a/n: Hello! So it's been a couple years since this story has been updated (sorry 'bout that!), but I've finally gotten to watch season 10 and 11 (now just waiting to get a hold of 12) and I've been sucked back into the NCIS 'verse. It's been a while since I've written for NCIS or Supernatural, so I hope I can get back into the character mind-set. Enjoy!

Including your favourite Supernatural duo!

Chapter Summary: Claire gets a new tattoo, one that bears remarkable resemblance to several connected cold cases the team worked more than a year before—and Tony wants answers.

Four days into mandatory leave.

Invitation:
Ch. 21: More Than A White Lie

Claire let the loud buzz of the needle drown out the swirling, rushing, clamouring thoughts in her head that hadn't seemed to stop since her visit with her mo- the Demon possessing Amelia. And the twisting in her gut was slowing starting to uncramp that had been keeping her awake for the past two weeks as ink changed the pigment of her skin.

Castiel and Dean had told her that there was nothing to worry about anymore, but she had thought that before. Had been naive enough to believe it after Castiel had left her body and took her father for the second and final time. She just couldn't take the chance anymore.

The artist bandaged her up, gave her a tube of lotion and sent her on her way. Now she just needed to convince Tony to get a matching tattoo.

...

"I got pizza and beer!" Claire called into the apartment when she got home, heading into the kitchen.

Claire set the pizza and six pack onto the counter as Tony came up behind her, brushing her loose hair over her shoulder and started to kiss the supple flesh of her pale neck. "Mm." She sighed, reaching back and pushing her fingers into his hair

"You're the best," he swore as he kissed his along her shoulder, his arms going round her middle.

Claire let out an involuntary hiss. This wasn't her first rodeo; she'd gotten the Angel Wings when she was a teenager, she'd justforgotten how tender and sensitive the skin was the first 42 hours as the ink settled.

Tony instantly pulled away, concern crossing his features. "Is the gunshot wound still bothering you?" but that couldn't be right, she had been shot in the right shoulder, not the left.

The story that she and Gibbs had spun the team and the Director had Gibbs shooting Ari from the top of the stairs while she had been held at gunpoint at the bottom. The bloody bullet buried in brick wall limited their literary options. Ziva David was never mentioned; something Claire still couldn't understand—but it was Gibbs Law or Gibbs Law, there was no other c) none of the above. But it wasn't like she had the high ground here; she'd told more than her share of lies.

Claire shook her head. Maybe if they never saw each other naked again, she could used the excuse, but as it was, this wasn't something she wanted to or was going to hide from Tony; not when it could help keep him safe from forces he didn't even know existed.

"No." She shook her head and turned around to face him. "Tony, I-"

"Are you pregnant?" he uttered; there was a mixture of emotion in his eyes: fear, hope, uncertainty. He didn't know what one had to do with the other, but once the subconscious thought entered his head it escaped his mouth—that was what usually landed him in trouble

Claire was completely taken aback. She had not been prepared one bit for that line of thought and it almost felt like she'd been cut off at the knees. She leaned back heavily against the counter, gripping the edge, afraid her knees might give out. "What?" she managed to voice breathlessly.

Tony stepped closer, rubbing her arms soothingly with slightly trembling hands, before he planted them firmly on her hips. "The night you came home," his voice was raspy and he cleared his throat, swallowing. "We didn't use protection..." He was panting. She didn't from know what; excitement, fear? It was hard to tell when she didn't even know what she was feeling. "And you left right after."

"No. No," she finally managed to croak out over the lump in her throat. "No. God, Tony." She reached up and cupped his face, her fingertips dancing against his jaw. "I'm..." she swallowed. "I'm not pregnant." She whispered. "I'm on the pill."

"Oh." His shoulders slumped and she wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment; probably both. She pressed her lips to his firmly before resting their foreheads together; they breathed each others breath for a moment before he leaned back marginally and gazed at her. "What happened to your shoulder?"

"I got another tattoo."

"You did?" it was his turn for the unexpected. After a moment his expression lit up and he grinned as he gazed at her, mentally undressing her. "Sexy treasure hunt?" he suggested excitedly.

Claire couldn't help the huff of laughter. "Knowing where it is kind of defeats the point."

"I'll just take the scenic route," he said lasciviously. He took her hand and started to pull her towards their bedroom.

"Tony." Her tone made him stop. "When you see it, the last thing on your mind is going to be sex, Tony."

He made a face. "It's not Donald Trump or anything, is it?"

"Are you out of your mind?" she questioned. It bore questioning after a question like that, but she was sure he would be asking that of her soon enough.

"I can't think of anything else that would stop me from wanting to have sex with you," he admitted.

"Just... don't freak out." She whispered.

"Well, now I'm freaking out." He replied, chuckling nervously, trying to break the sudden tension.

He let go of her hand as she took a step back and turned her back to him. His nervousness got distracted with building want as he watched her undress in the hall. Claire took off her open, button-up long sleeve and tossed it onto the kitchen table, before she pulled her left arm out of her tank top, revealing her bare back and a white square bandage at the upper back of her shoulder.

He stepped forward, reaching out and caressing his hands up the curve of her back, his thumbs stroking the smooth flesh. Claire squeezed her eyes closed as he took hold of the bandage and carefully peeled it back. His gaze swept over the reddened flesh revealed, the dark ink. Taking in the little things; the diameter of 3''. Then, the bigger picture.

His breath froze in his lungs. It was a symbol. A five-point star in the side of a flaming circle. It was the same symbol he'd seen on several dead Marines. Claire squeezed her eyes tighter.

Tony stepped back, horrified. "Claire, what the hell is that?" he demanded, pointing. "Why do you have the same tattoo as those dead Marines?!"

Claire slipped her arm back through the sleeve, her shoulders straightening. She turned back to face him. "It's a protection symbol—to prevents possession."

"Po- what are you talking about? Why do you have that?" he demanded again. He heard her words, but couldn't understand. "Claire! I know Kate dying has been hard-"

"My mother," it came out fainter than she intended, like her body was still attempting to keep the secret. "My mother died, Tony. That's why I came home early."

"What?" out of everything he had been expecting, that had the last thing he expected to hear. "Why- why haven't you told me-?"

"She didn't-" Claire shook her head. "It wasn't even her when I got there."

"Claire," Tony grasped her upper arms. "You told me yourself, your mother was sick-"

"That's not what I mean." She carded her fingers through her mane in frustration. "Everything that my mother said that landed her in the hospital was not a delusion—she just couldn't cope with the truth. She was possessed by a demon when I was thirteen and she was possessed when I visited her at the hospital." She glanced back at him. "I'm not having a mental-break!" she protested to the silent implication of his expression.

"Ok, ok." He patted the air soothingly. "Just talk to me."

"I am!" she shouted and smacked his hands down in irritation.

"Ah." He winced and rubbed his hands. "Was that neccessary?"

"Yes!" she snapped. "Kate. After she died, you talked to her, you all did—she told me."

"Claire," Tony said softly, "I watched my partner get killed two feet in front of me. That is not just something you can brush off. Of course I was seeing her everywhere, I wanted it to be true!"

"You talked to her in the bullpen at your desk. She had on a school-girl uniform-"

Tony blinked in shock. "How-?"

"She told me, Tony." Claire persisted. "You told her you used to picture her naked, she could always read you. You thought you were dreaming, but you weren't. That was really Kate, it was her ghost."

"No, no. That's not possible." Tony denied, shaking his head. "The Exorcist is just a movie, people don't get possessed. You're not the kid from Sixth Sense. You just know me really well and that my coping mechanisms include: sex, movie references, and bad humour." He ticked off on his fingers emphatically.

She tried one last time, softly, "You asked advice on how to break the news to me that she was dead."

"Mm-mm." He shook his head belligerently in refusal to believe. And went back to his coping mechanisms. "It's a good thing that 'grieve-leave' is only for a couple more days," Tony remarked, carding fingers roughly through his hair and making it stick-up like he was a porcupine. "I clearly have cabin fever. And this is some lucid nightmare trying to get my juices flowing. Well," he faced the ceiling and called: "How about something more naughty and sexy, huh? Throw ol' DiNozzo Jr. a T-bone after the last couple of weeks. I'm not in the mood for Inception right now!"

"I know this doesn't seem real," Claire said. "But I'm telling you the truth. I wish I didn't have to, I wish this could stay my little dark secret and stay in the dark. But after what happened to my mother. This," her right hand reached across and gripped her left shoulder, addressing the tattoo, "I couldn't risk the same thing happening to you. I've already lost too many people because of this-" tears clouded her eyes.

Tony instantly enveloped her in his arms and she wrapped her arms around his torso, her face buried in his throat, breathing him in as he petted her hair. "Nothing's going to happen to me," he swore into her hair, kissing her head. "I'm not going anywhere. I survived the plague, find me someone who can say the same."

But Claire shook her head against him in denial. "You were dying. You were going to die!"

Tony hushed her. "But I didn't. I'm right here. Fit as ever!"

Maybe, now that it had been a month since he had been released from the hospital. "My-" she started, almost saying 'dad' before she caught herself. "Castiel, he was the one-" but he wouldn't believe that either.

Claire paced out into the living room and he followed, but allowed her, her space. She tucked her hair behind her ears, only for it to come loose with her frantic movement.

She didn't know how to be rational with an unrational subject. If she hadn't gone through what she did when she was thirteen, with Angels, Demons, and the Winchesters; she would have thought that Kate's ghost had just been a figment of her grief, she wouldn't believe what she was trying to tell Tony now, no matter how much he loved and trusted her—not without proof.

So be it, she would get him proof!

Tony started when she stopped in front of his just as abruptly as she had started pacing. This was not the night he was expecting when she came home with pizza (that was now cold) and beer (that was now warm). "I-" he started, but then so did she, shifting on her feet nervously before she became serenely still.

"Ok. I would tell you not to freak out, but even I did, so..." Tony watched her in confusion as she clasped her hands in front of her, bowed her head—and prayed.

Unsure what he was supposed to, uncomfortable with the thought of interrupting her, he watched and waited and wondered what he wasn't supposed to freak out about.

Then there was a flapping sound. A few strands of her blond hair picked up in the puff of air—and suddenly, there were two strange men standing behind his girlfriend. One with dirty-blond hair and a worn leather jacket, and the other with black slightly curled hair and a tan trench coat.

He made a squeaky-grunty noise, the same usually reserved for a Gibbs Slap. She always found it adorable, like a cute little teacup piglet. But now she bit the inside of her cheek nervously. Reaching out carefully, and stroking his arm soothingly. "Tony?"

"Think you broke 'im, Cas." Dean spoke first.

"He should no longer be ill, I cleaned his blood of the human sickness, the plague." Castiel responded, visually examining the man.

"Murse!" Tony looked at him, wide-eyed. He'd thought had been hallucinating, sure that he was going to die and wanting Claire so bad. He'd never seen Lt. Cas Winchester, the on-duty nurse when he and Kate had been in quarantine for the plague, he'd always worn a mask—but he knew those aqua eyes.

Claire and Castiel gave him twin blank stares, but Dean chuckled. "Male nurse. I saw you in the uniform, too. Nice to get out of that trench coat once in a while even if it's outta one suit and into another." He elbowed the Angel to no effect.

Tony sucked in a sharp breath that made him want to cough but he fought through it. "Your name isn't Cas Winchester. You're Claire's father!" his mind overrode what it couldn't process and one thing that it could: this was Claire's deadbeat dad! "You bastard! How could you just walk out on her like that? She was just a kid, she loved you. She didn't deserve that!"

A remorseful and sorrowful expression swamped the man's soulful face. His voice was even rougher than usual as he looked at Claire and murmured, "I am not her father."

Claire couldn't stop the pain that the statement brought her; gave her a scar when she was twelve and did not really understand that it hadn't been Jimmy talking to her, even as he was looking back at her. Tony saw it, and it made him see red.

Claire jumped in front of Tony before he could think to take a swing, fists clenched in the front of his Ohio State sweatshirt; Dean manoeuvred in front of Castiel with a similar idea, but she was sure that while Cas would Turn The Other Cheek, Dean would not pull his punches.

"Stop! He's not my father, not anymore! But he's still- he's still my friend! They both are. They were there for me, at mom's funeral, when you and Kate couldn't be. I didn't ask, I thought I could do it by myself like a lot of other things I've done alone. But I needed it—them—if I could have you, or Kate ever again. Castiel saved your life!" she screamed.

"What are you talking about?" he stumbled back a step.

"There was no suicide strain in the plague, Tony. The Y-pestilence was still active inside you, it would have killed you. But Castiel, he- he killed the bug in your blood."

"Gibbs said-"

"Gibbs lied."

Tony sat heavily on the couch. "Gibbs knows."

"Sort of. He knows 'of' Castiel, not what he is."

"Then why-?"

"There were no time for questions." She answered. "It was a gut moment, and he trusted his gut. He told a white lie that saved everyone a lot of trouble and kept you from becoming a human lab rat."

Tony scoffed and climbed back onto his feet. "I think this counts as more than a simple white lie, Claire!" he shouted in frustration, his fists clenched. "You've been keeping secrets, lying to me! If your mom hadn't died, would you ever have told me?"

"I was trying to protect you." She whispered. "The other person that knew the truth, that lived it—it broke her, Tony." Unbidden tears flooded her eyes. "It's destroyed my mother."

Tony's arms dropped to his sides and after a moment of meditative breathing, his fists unclenched. He needed to get his head on straight. WWGD. What would Gibbs do? He honestly had no idea how Gibbs would react if he were in his place, but if Gibbs was with him right now, Tony knew exactly what the boss would do. Tony rose his hand and did a Self-Gibbs Slap, and everything stilled. Dean gave him a bizarre look like he was the insane one. But Tony gave a calm exhale and focused on his girlfriend.

Claire could stop the small smile at the action. "Better?"

Tony gave a single nod. "I don't get any of this. What am I supposed to do, Claire? What do you want me to do?"

"The tattoo," she whispered and nodded her head aside at Dean. Tony shifted his gaze to the man as he grasped the collar of his v-neck tee and stretched it down to the left side of his chest—and revealed a slightly bigger version of Claire's new tattoo under his left collarbone (in the same place that those dead Marines had theirs). "It doesn't have to be big, it just has to be done right. You can hide it somewhere where only I would ever see it. Please, Tony. I know you don't understand it, but I need you to do this for me—please. I need to know that you'll be safe, no matter what."

"I've never liked needles," Tony muttered, staring. He gave his head a little shake and looked down into his girlfriend's aqua blue eyes. "Ok." He swallowed. "Alright. If this is something that you need me to do."

"Tony!" Claire gasped in relief and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight.

Tony held her just as tight, and watched over the crown of her head as the man that wasn't her father, but an Angel and other man blinked from sight, vanished. He shuddered and held her all the more tightly.

tbc!

So, what do you think? When I first started writing this I don't think I intended to do anything with the protection tattoo from the first chapters, but its been a few years and opinions change. Tell me yours?