Chapter 1

"No... no no no it's not time yet... no! Get away! No!"

Footsteps crunched on dead leaves. A door opened. Footsteps on a tiled floor.

Claws scraping on a tiled floor. Growling. The haggard breath of a large animal.

"Get away! Please! Not yet!"

Loud, vicious barking. Violent, wretched screaming.

Tim shot up in bed, breathing heavily. His body was covered in sweat. He frantically looked around his bedroom. Everything was undisturbed, and he was alone.

He threw the covers off and yanked the gun out from under his pillow. He slowly made his way out into the living room. No one was there, and all of his possessions were in their designated place. He started to lower his gun, but a gut feeling made him keep it at the ready. Something was very, very off, and he could feel it.

"That gun's not going to help you."

Tim whirled around at the sudden voice, and came face to face with a stout man in a black suit, with an evil grin on his face.

"You... what the hell are you doing here?" Tim asked defensively, keeping his gun pointed at the sudden intruder.

"Thought I'd pop in for a visit. I'm sure you knew that if the look on your face is any indication."

"Get the hell out. You're not welcome here."

The man chuckled, and waved a hand. Tim's gun flew out of his hands and sailed across the room.

"All I wanted to do was chat... pointing a gun at me isn't nice, Timmy."

"Go to hell."

"Been there, done that."

The man waved his hand again. Tim felt himself careening backward and into the wall next to his bedroom door, and held there by an invisible force.

"We have some unfinished business to attend to."

"Forget it, Crowley."

"We made a deal. You know what'll happen if you don't hold up your end of the bargain."

"Y-you can't collect early... that wasn't part of the deal."

"I can collect whenever I want to, Timmy. I am the King of Hell, after all."

Tim's phone started ringing on his night stand.

"It's my Boss," Tim said quickly.

"The insufferable Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I've been watching him. For a while I thought he was going to come join me for a bit of fun -well, fun for me, torture for him."

"Shut the hell up."

"Your Boss isn't the man you think he is, Timmy. You should ask him sometime."

The phone stopped ringing, and then started up again a few seconds later.

"He's going to keep calling until I answer," Tim said smugly.

Crowley sighed, annoyed.

"Fine," he said, and released Tim. "I'll be back to collect."

Crowley disappeared, and Tim was alone again. He took a moment to regain his bearings, and scrambled into his bedroom to grab his ringing phone.

"McGee."

"Where the hell were you, McGee?"

"In the head," Tim lied.

"We've got a dead Navy Commander at Quantico. Get your ass here."

Gibbs rattled off an address and hung up the phone. Tim scribbled it down and went into the bathroom to get cleaned up.

NCISNCISNCISNCIS

The sun was peeking over the trees when Tim arrived at the crime scene. He climbed out of his car with a cup of coffee in his hand and his camera bag on his shoulder. He leaned back into the car and produced a second cup of coffee for Gibbs, who met him halfway across the perfectly manicured front lawn to take the beverage.

"What have we got, Boss?"

"Commander Matthew Hannigan. His wife found him in the basement this morning. Tony's already on bag and tag - get in there and start taking photos."

"On it."

Tim made his way inside, practically chugging down the large coffee. He made his way through the living room into the kitchen, where he found the basement door open wide. He made his way down the steps and turned left into the main area of the basement - and he froze in his tracks.

The Commander's clothes were torn to shreds, and there were very large claw marks all over his body, the worst of which was across his chest.

Tony caught him staring wide-eyed at the body, and got to his feet.

"McGee, are you going to start taking photos?"

Tim came out of his trance, and set his coffee down to start taking photos.

"Are you okay, Probie?" Tony asked as Tim snapped a picture of the Commander's chest.

"I'm fine, Tony."

"Whatever you say. And how come you get to bring coffee, and Gibbs makes me throw mine in the garbage when I get here?"

"Because you stand around and drink it, and try to get out of bag and tag."

"Whatever, Probalicious. I'm going to go see if Ducky's here and help Palmer get that gurney down here."

Tim nodded as he snapped a picture of the Commander's face. It was contorted, frozen permanently into a terrified scream. Tim moved away from it, and started photographing the rest of the wounds. This looked like a mauling death, and that's exactly what it was. By the look of the claw marks, he knew exactly what animal did this, and there was only one person who could get rid of it.

He took out his cell phone and sent a quick text message.

Have a 911 - need to talk to you immediately.

He pocketed his phone and continued to take pictures. Whatever was going on here had to be because of him, and he was going to need help to stop it.

TBC...