This takes place directly after Good God Y'all for SPN. And sometime during season seven for NCIS.

Thanks for reading...

NCIS

2009…

Tony tried to recall how exactly he ended up in this predicament. He remembered leaving work late, Gibbs having each one go over their reports twice before allowing them to turn them in. He had collected his stuff, said good-bye to McGee and Ziva, the latter throwing him dirty looks wile the former ignored him. (It wasn't his fault he found her and McGee in a compromising position. And yes, he knew it was an accident, she tripped and Probie attempted to catch her, and taking pictures was a tad immature).

He had ridden the elevator down to the parking garage, got in his car, noticed he needed gas, and had headed to the nearest gas station. Maybe he should have gone to another gas station. Perhaps he should have just said 'Screw the gas. I'll walk to work in the morning if I have to.' Or maybe he should have just taken the extra fifteen seconds to apologize to Ziva and McGee.

But no, he stopped for gas. He had stopped for gas and ran into a very familiar, leather jacket clad person, who happened to be pumping gas also.

At first, Tony hadn't recognized who his gas buddy was, but when he heard 'Hey stranger' he knew who he ran into.

He should have just grabbed his credit card receipt, said a very quick 'Good-bye' and just left. Why did he ask Dean how he was doing? Better question, why did he ask Dean what he was doing in D.C?

He should have known. Really, had almost six years taught him nothing? He really deserved a head slap at that moment.

But Tony had noticed Sam wasn't around, and for a heart stopping moment he actually thought Dean's brother had died, but the younger guy had assured Tony that Sam was, in fact, still alive. "He's just taking a break from hunting," he had said softly.

"So, you're hunting on your own?" Bad Tony bad, a voice, sounding so much like Abby's, scolded him. He should not have asked that question. He should have said 'Good luck' and left. But there was something about that damn kid.

"I've got help," Dean said, and Tony knew he should have kept it at that.

"Come on, let me help." Why was he so stupid? God, maybe he should have let Ziva murder him with that spoon.

"This isn't a ghost or a ghoul," Dean replied replacing his gas cap. He closed the gas tank's door and took his receipt from the machine. "Trust me."

"Give me six seconds to drop my car off and I'll help you. It's the least I can do after the many times you've saved my ass." The least he could do? No, the least he could have done was to let Dean go on his way.

"I guess I could use the company, but only for staking out. This isn't something you should be messing with."

Warning signs, Tony should have picked up on the warning signs. Instead, he nodded, got in his car, and Dean followed him as he drove to his apartment. At his building, he parked his car, collected his badge and gun, locked the vehicle up, and got into Dean's Impala. He was an idiot.

NCIS/SPN

They did stake out for a while. Dean wouldn't tell them what they were watching, but whatever it was had taken up shelter in an old motel. Or Tony thought there was something in the motel. Dean had been looking at the building through a pair of binoculars for a while now.

"I figured staking out monsters would be more entertaining than staking out bad guys," Tony commented looking around Dean's car. There were some food wrappers littering the car, an open duffle bag on the backseat with clothes and a couple weapons spilling out, and a pile of bloody rags lying on the floor.

"Are you bleeding?" Tony asked turning to look at Dean.

"What?" the younger guy looked up just as a car drove by, his eyes flashing in the headlights. Tony's own eyes widened as he reached for the door knob, his hand wrapping around the metal and yanking it open.

He fell from the car, landing hard on his butt, and crabbed crawled away from the Impala while the faux-Dean tore his door open and raced around the car. Tony pulled his gun from his holster, pointing it at Dean.

"Come any closer and I will shoot you," he warned but the thing just smirked and continued to head Tony's way. Given no other choice, Tony fired twice into the thing's chest. DiNozzo expected it to, at the very least, drop, but this thing just glanced down at its chest and looked back up at Tony.

"Going to have to do better than that," it said before backhanding Tony in the face. He fell to the dirt, his head knocking into the hard earth, and was out seconds later.

NCIS/SPN

He was now tied to the real, half-conscious Dean. Tony thought back to the faux-Dean. He hadn't made eye contact, didn't make any of his patented, off-handed comments, nor did he try very hard to convince Tony to stay away. He should have frigging seen it.

"Why'd I have to meet you," he whispered to the kid tied to his back. "My life was so much simpler."

"What?" a half groggy voice asked and Tony felt Dean move slightly.

"Never mind," he responded looking around the old motel. He figured the thing (whatever it may be) had been making sure no one was lurking around his hideout before he took Tony. That was all he needed; witnesses, or Dean to be waiting to kill it.

"H-how…" Dean moved again, most likely shaking his head to clear it. "How'd you get here?"

"I thought that thing was you," Tony replied trying to look over his shoulder to see Dean, "but I managed to meet your evil twin instead."

"Shapeshifter," Dean replied softly, moving again. Tony felt something sharp nick his finger, and he realized what Dean was doing.

"Rule number nine," he whispered with a smirk.

"Huh?"

"Never mind," Tony responded glancing around the room again. "Where'd it go?"

"It's most likely committing some type of heinous crime, while wearing my face, so I can get into some more shit with the FBI."

"Sam mentioned that a while back," Tony commented softly. "Speaking of Sam, he's not…"

"No, we split up a while ago," Dean said working steadily at their ropes. "Again," he added bitterly.

"That's what your evil twin said."

"Yeah, well sometimes it's easier to tell the truth than to come up with a total… Got it." The ropes fell from their hands and Tony pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt numb and his head hurt, but he still offered Dean a hand up.

Dean's legs buckled when he made it to full height, and Tony's grip was the only thing keeping him up.

"What did it do to you?" he asked helping Dean over to a dilapidated chair.

"The down side of carrying guns," the younger guy replied, moving his flannel to flash his bleeding side (that explained the bloody rags), "is sometimes the bad guys find them and shoot you."

"Are you okay?" Tony asked checking over the wound.

"Been better," Dean responded before covering the wound and nodding towards the door. "Our best bet is to get out of here and find my car. We need silver, and there's nothing in here worth helping us."

"That explains why the damn thing didn't die when I shot it," Tony commented wondering just how many weird looks he'd get if he suggested they switch their sigs' regular bullets with silver ones.

"Yeah, well, we need to get to my car," Dean murmured trying to push himself to his feet. His face went paper white, his forehead scrunching up with pain, and he lowered himself back onto the chair.

"You alright?" Tony asked worriedly.

"Just give me a minute," the younger guy muttered, breathing through the pain, fighting to keep his eyes open. Tony was all for giving the kid a minute, but he heard a creak come from the other room.

"Come on," he said pulling Dean to his feet. He pulled the kid's arm over his shoulder, wrapped his own arm around his waist, and half dragged/half carried him to the front door. "Sometimes I wonder how you are still alive."

"You and me both," Dean responded under his breath.

"And me," a familiar voice stated. Tony turned slowly, noticing himself standing a good ten feet from Dean and him, the real him. Not that dude standing there in jeans and a leather jacket, looking like him. This is going to get confusing.

NCIS/SPN

"Does it make me a narcissist if I think you look handsome," Tony questioned meeting his green eyes.

"Oh, you two are the same person," Faux-Tony commented with a smirk on his face. "Hiding behind jokes and smartass comments. I mean, I'm not sure where you end and he begins." He jerked his head towards Dean.

"Do they always monologue?" Tony asked Dean and the younger guy nodded. "Typical bad guy."

"Always think we want to know their plans," Dean mumbled his eyes flicking to the corner before looking back at the shapeshifter. Tony followed his gaze, but didn't see anything.

"Funny, but I really don't have time for your quips," Faux-Tony said pointing his gun at Dean. "So, let me kill your friend, wound you, and go about my business."

"Oh, not even going to kill me?" Tony asked in fake curiosity. "But aren't you afraid I'll come kill you."

"That'll be kind of hard when you are in jail." And the thing pulled the hammer back, the barrel pointed directly at Dean's forehead, only to jolt forward as a long, pointed sword-like knife speared his back.

"I told you I'd be back," a deep voice said as the owner yanked the blade from his back. Faux-Tony dropped, dead before he hit the floor.

"Cass, it… took you… long enough," Dean said in a breathy voice. "Were you… cloud hopping?"

"I could not find you," this Cass guy replied moving to take Dean's other side. "I had to sense…" he looked at Tony. "…Agent DiNozzo."

"Lucky me," DiNozzo muttered as he and Cass helped Dean outside.

"We should take you to a hospital," Cass suggested once they were outdoors.

"No… no hospitals," Dean murmured still fighting to keep his eyes open.

"But…"

"I know someone," Tony blurted out. "He'll help, as long as you don't mind him telling a couple stories."

"Let's go."

NCIS/SPN

Ducky was just getting home when Tony pulled up in Dean's Impala. Cass had stayed behind to take care of Faux-Tony (an involuntary shiver went down DiNozzo's spine at the thought of his doppelganger), leaving Dean in Tony's care.

"Okay, kid, come on," DiNozzo said putting the Impala into park and removing the keys. He pushed his door open; calling Ducky's name, and raced to the passenger side.

"What happened?" Ducky asked as he approached Tony.

"Gunshot wound, but I really need you to not ask questions," Tony responded helping the incoherent hunter out of the car.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked into Tony's shoulder. DiNozzo ignored the question as he followed Ducky into the house.

"I don't understand why this boy isn't in a hospital," Ducky said heading towards the kitchen.

"Ducky no questions, please."

"It wasn't a question, just an observation," the older man replied clearing his kitchen table. "Place him on the table and show me where he's wounded."

Tony did as he was asked, with some difficulty (Dean wasn't exactly a lightweight), the sturdy table holding the kid's weight. DiNozzo then started stripping him of his flannel. Now that he was in better light, Tony could see just how much blood Dean had lost. His gray t-shirt was soaked in crimson.

"Oh dear," Ducky uttered returning to the dining room with a first aid kit. "I may need more than I have here."

"I can go…"

"No, I'll call…"

"Ducky, I'm serious; I can't let anyone else know about him." Tony wished he knew why he kept protecting this kid. Maybe the shapeshifter was right; maybe they were the same person. Or he was just delusional.

Ducky sighed and said, "Fine, but you need to get exactly what I say."

NCIS/SPN

An hour and a half later, Ducky was stitching up Dean's bullet wound. Tony paced back and forth across the living room's floor, waiting for the inevitable questions despite the fact that he had asked the older man to hold off on asking for the details.

What was he going to tell Ducky? That he had helped Dean on several occasions, and the kid in question was only bleeding because a shapeshifter looking like him (and later like Tony) had shot him? Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

"How's Dean?" a voice questioned, a figure appearing next to Tony and stopping him mid-pace. He nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart pounding against his chest.

"Holy crap," he said breathing heavily. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"How's Dean?" Cass, Dean's teleporting friend, repeated. In the light, Cass seemed shorter than his voice suggested. He was also in need of a decent meal and a good tailor. Maybe some sleep.

"My friend is patching him up," Tony replied softly.

"He is going to be okay, yes?"

"I don't know," DiNozzo admitted shrugging. He hadn't actually gotten an answer from Ducky when he asked.

"Then we will wait," Cass stated and sat down on one of Ducky's couches. Tony eyed the dark haired guy cautiously as he lowered himself into a lounge chair. The living room fell into an uncomfortable silence, but it was quickly broken up by Ducky saying, "He's resting…" the doctor trailed off.

"Oh, hello," he said pleasantly. "When did you get here? I didn't hear the doorbell ring."

"It is because…"

"I noticed him pull up," Tony interrupted the dark haired guy. "He's a friend of the kid's. He wanted to see how he was doing."

"Oh, well, he's going to be okay. As long as he takes it easy," Ducky responded eyeing Cass curiously. "Though, I am not used to taking bullets out of live people, I am certain it did not hit anything vital."

"Can I see him?" Cass asked getting to his feet.

"Yes, he's in here." Ducky gestured to the dining room behind him. As Cass left the room, the older man looked back at Tony and said, "We need to talk."

He led Tony outside, keeping the door open a crack, and continued, "I know you said no questions, but…"

"Trust me, Ducky. You are better off not knowing."

"Lad, are you in trouble?"

"No," Tony responded hurriedly, hoping to wipe the worry off Ducky's face. "It's just…" he drew in a deep breath, slowly let it out, and said, "It's complicated."

"Anthony, you showed up at my home at two-thirty in the morning. You bring a friend who is bleeding from a gunshot wound. Obviously something happened. You can trust me."

"I know I can Ducky…" he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. He couldn't tell Ducky about what he had been doing with Dean. He couldn't drag the experienced ME into this shit. That was one thing he would never do; it was bad enough McGee ended up hurt because of it, but if something happened to Ducky. If something happened to any of his friends…

"Please don't ask me to tell you, Ducky," DiNozzo finally whispered. "Just, let me keep it to myself."

Ducky was quiet for a moment, but he finally bowed his head and said, "Okay, if you insist."

"Thanks," Tony replied with a smile. He cleared his throat, checking his watch. "Do you mind if I crash here tonight?"

"No, that would be okay."

"Thanks."

Yeah, Tony was sick of the secrets, but unlike the whole Jeanne fiasco, he was lying to protect everyone he cared about; just like he kept lying for the kid. There was just something about Dean. He just wished he knew what that was exactly.