A/N: I'm glad you all have somewhat enjoyed the new turn of events. I'm sure someone will let me know the moment I become too predictable in my writing. Welcome to the new adds and the new reviewers; I'm very happy to see you all here! Thanks, as always, to those of you who have followed me from the beginning. You guys are awesome. :)
Gibbs stared blankly up at the ceiling, his arms still protectively holding a restless, troubled Abby close. She had fallen asleep, but only after he'd spent hours reassuring her that everything would work out, hours that he'd continually had to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Beyond the point of exhaustion, she had draped herself across his chest and succumbed to a grief-filled sleep, her hand wrapped in the fabric of his shirt to keep him from moving. She needed him there, with her. Unable to fathom the thought of causing Abby further pain and discomfort, he'd settled himself in and held her tight. Only in his embrace did she seem to relax at all.
Unable to sleep himself, he'd given in to the thoughts that paraded boldly through his mind. Losing McGee hurt him deeper than he cared to admit, and even knowing that his agent hadn't actually died didn't seem to make much of a difference. How did one become an angel's vessel anyway? What Dean had said to him hadn't made sense. There was something different inside McGee? Sure, the few years that he'd been a probationary NCIS agent under Gibbs' command had shaped him into a more confident young man, his aptitude with firearms and interrogation finally rising to meet his skill with most things technological, but what quality was it that he possessed that set him above the rest of humanity?
His thoughts bothered him and he struggled not to let out a wretched sigh that would shake Abby from her sleep. He was truly forgetting that, had Tim McGee said no to the angel, that they'd be putting his thin, gaunt, lifeless body into the ground within the week. Images of Kate's funeral filled his mind, then Jenny's, followed by a string of faces that he'd not thought about in a long while. He frowned, for the first time in his life, genuinely confused. There was no 'gut feeling' this time to point him in a direction, and that didn't sit well with him.
His mind then touched on Ziva and he felt worry fill him again. As tough as he tried to appear, his weak spot was his agents, any one of them. Knowing that Ziva was stuck in that shelter with no memory of who she was tore at him. What happened if the women started asking questions? Had they implanted enough of 'Ariana' in Ziva for her cover?
He exhaled through his nose, checking the time on his wrist watch. Their regroup time wasn't far away. There would be no sleep for him that night, not that he could sleep if he wanted to. He looked down at Abby again, catching a stray tear on his fingertip as it worked its way from the corner of her eye. Poor Abby. She always took things so hard, and she had truly loved McGee. As much as it pained him to she her that way, he knew that this time, he couldn't vow to make things right because this time, he was pretty sure there was no way he could make things right. How was he, a mere man, supposed to oppose a soldier of Heaven?
The gentle ticking of his watch seemed too loud with the only other sound in the room being Abby's finally even breaths as she slept deeply, her sleep undisturbed. He found himself counting the seconds, mentally ticking off each minute that passed as he laid there, unmoving and silent. Eternities seemed to pass before he gently untangled himself from Abby's reaching limbs, pulling the covers up over her securely before leaning over, placing a fatherly kiss against her temple.
"Rest, Abby," he whispered, "I'm not going far, I promise." He tucked a stray strand of her black hair back from her face as she shifted, curling onto her side, her back to the doorway. Carefully, he drew back, sliding out into the hallway and closing the door quietly behind him. He could already hear voices in the kitchen, surprising him considering it was still half an hour before time to regroup. Pausing outside the entryway, he decided to take in what was being said before he made himself known.
It appeared the brothers were still there, apparently not having slept at all the night before, and he could hear Tony chime in occasionally, which surprised him. Normally, Tony would have been sliding into the room at the last minute, but from the sound of the conversation, it appeared that he'd been there for a good while.
"...not going to fix itself," Dean was saying, obviously displeased, "we need a plan and we need one fast."
"If we're gonna get Cas in there, those symbols have gotta be broken," Sam added. "He said the Colt should work, so at least that part is taken care of." The sound of running water filled the kitchen, slacking off as it caught in something. A glass. "Any way to get a message to Ziva?"
"I don't think so," Tony reluctantly answered, his fingers drumming on the table top. "She's the best at what she does, though. If she got wind that we were moving, she'd know what to do." He cleared his throat. "I mean, what other choice do we have?"
Taking that moment, Gibbs took the last few steps into the kitchen, his eyes quickly traveling over each man before he moved over to the coffeemaker, quickly and effortlessly putting on a pot to brew.
"Morning, boss," his senior agent greeted as Gibbs took a seat at the table. "How's Abby?"
"She's sleeping, DiNozzo," he answered, unable to hide the slight note of fatigue that flavored his words. "That's more than I'd hoped for."
A moment of discomfort seemed to pass between the two men, something that the brothers didn't miss. They were both seeking answers and direction, which was completely out of character for both men. Being in unknown territory, they were forced to wear a mask of confidence when truly, it was just like being back at the first day on the job.
"Well," Dean offered, his eyes momentarily locking with the icy blue orbs that seemed to illuminate Gibbs' face, "the good news is, your agent on the inside seems to have recovered."
"Ziva?" Gibbs asked, immediately appraising the dark monitor.
"There's bad news too," the older brother hastily supplied, "but don't worry, she still seems to be safe."
"About three o'clock this morning, she was witness to a full sacrifice," Sam spoke instead, "more complex than any I've seen in a really long time." He was trying his best to keep his feelings from creeping into his voice. He was worried. "From what we heard, it sounds like the need for sacrifices is almost over. They're just looking for a few more...apparently very special sacrifices."
"Any ideas on who that would be?" Gibbs asked, squashing his desire to demand to see the footage that had been captured.
Sam and Dean looked between one another, a sickly half-smile nervously covering their faces. "That would be us," the older replied, "for starters."
"There might be more, but from the way this 'Leslie' was talking, it wouldn't be much more than two." Sam looked down at the table, his face heated. It seemed conceited, to him, like overvaluing himself to even start to believe that they were the special sacrifices that the Valkyries sought, but the fact that he and his brother had been destined to play vessel for the most powerful angels of Heaven kept intruding in his mind.
Gibbs stood, moving back to pour himself a cup of coffee as the brothers struggled to reign in their runaway thoughts, each appearing to have gone in the same direction in their way of thinking. "I know," he said, depositing himself back at the table with his full mug of rich home brew. "Struggling with pride."
Nodding once, Sam turned back to the monitor before glancing over at Tony. "You mind playing that back?"
Tony stood, moving over to the computer and, after silently cursing himself for not being as adept as McGee, pulled open the footage that had been captured that morning. He settled back into his seat as the clip began to roll. Those in the room watched in silence, taking in every word as they watched the sacrifice of the soldier on screen. They heard Ziva's words, felt her anger, and knew that she had, indeed, woken from whatever spell she was under. Her mask was still in tact, but for those who knew her well enough, they could pick out the little differences that made her uniquely Ziva. A visible relaxation settled over her team mates.
"She couldn't have stopped it," Tony murmured, appearing not to let the scene disturb him. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd seen someone die. It was just the first time he'd actually watched a sacrifice.
"No, she couldn't have. She made a hard choice." Sam looked away from the monitor. "If she'd tried, she'd most likely have been the next sacrifice." He looked between the two agents.
Decidedly, Gibbs sat his mug down hard on the table, leaning forward slightly. "We're going to get her." He paused for emphasis. "Today." I am not losing another agent.
No one wanted to argue that with him. They had enough to go on. Ziva was in deep enough. It was time to pull her out before something happened that they couldn't stop. The only problem with that was that they were too late now. Ziva had already seen too much for the Valkyries to just let her go. Getting her out would be a fight. Getting her out would mean destroying the Valkyries. Getting her out would mean that they would have to finish what they came here to do...by tonight.
"Well, then," Dean pushed himself back from the table, "we have a lot of work to do."
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"That," Gibbs murmured appreciatively, "is a beautiful piece." He looked up at Dean, waiting for the go-ahead. Gingerly, he picked up the Colt from the table, running his fingers over the markings with interest.
"Made by Samuel Colt, over a century ago," Dean said proudly, watching the older man almost fondle the gun. "One of the few weapons in existence than can kill most of the big bads out there."
"One?" Tony quipped, his eyes sweeping the weapon collection that lined most of the kitchen counters, spilling into the living room.
Sam held up a knife with a small smile, it's jagged edge glinting dangerously in the florescent lighting. "This is another. Mainly for demons, though." He slid it into a make-shift leather sheathe at his waist before reaching for a smaller bag, passing the remaining necklaces to the rest of those gathered in the room. "Just in case."
Tony recognized the pendants as a mirror to the one he wore, his hand moving to check that the cord still hung around his own neck.
"What are these?" Abby asked, uncharacteristically quiet, sliding it over her head.
"Protects you from being possessed."
Her eyes widened slightly and she nodded, lapsing back into silence, watching what was happening in the room. Gibbs had already mandated that she and Ducky would be staying behind, but Ducky had surprisingly protested, demanding to be at least somewhere near in case medical attention was necessary. Abby and Ducky would be staying with the cars, safely away from where the action would be happening.
Castiel arrived unceremoniously in their midst, his arms laden with what appeared to be stakes. He dropped them on the table, ignoring their clamoring as they rebounded off of each other before settling on the flat surface. "You're certain you're ready?" came the question as he looked about the room.
"Gotta happen now, Cas. You heard what that crazy bitch said," Dean quipped, checking his ammunition.
Castiel held his tongue as his eyes settled on the older brother. He and Sam were putting what the Valkyries wanted right in their grasp. It was dangerous, but it was unavoidable. Either sooner or later, the result would be the same.
"Zerachiel will meet you there. Do not move until he is with you."
"Zerachiel?" Tony repeated with some difficulty, blinking as Castiel had left their midst. He directed his questioning gaze then fell on the brothers, waiting expectantly.
"It's Tim," Sam offered quietly.
Silence fell over the room as the men continued their gear up, eyes glancing frequently at the monitor to watch what was happening at the shelter. By mid-afternoon, they stood ready, as ready as they could be, staring at one another as if waiting for someone to make the first move.
Sam adjusted his hold on the duffel while Dean tucked the Colt carefully away in its usual place, nestled against his skin. The brothers looked at the two agents, avoiding the pained face of Abby, appraising them for a long moment.
Dean sighed, nodding, jerking his head toward the door. "Alrighty, then," he said, settling into his natural leader role with only slight discomfort. There was no room for panic now. "Let's do this."
tbc...