"Tony."
Tony didn't even glance up from his phone. They were lounging by the fireplace in the penthouse with a bottle of wine and a free evening. They had planned to spend it relaxing after the stress of the day. A rustle of papers drew Tony's attention, though, and he saw the worried, confused crease of Pepper's forehead before he noticed she was holding his supplies lists.
"Tony, why do we need 500 pounds of rock salt?"
"You're right, that's not enough, is it? Better double it. Or maybe I should just buy a salt flat, how much do those go for these days-"
"Human blood? You want to get human blood?" Pepper was getting that tone in her voice that she only got when dealing with Tony or idiotic accountants, the one that meant she would need a strong drink soon.
"Well, yeah. The Winchesters said that many of the sigils won't work if they're not in human blood. I've been talking to some local morgues and hospitals for them to give us -well, I'll pay them for it obviously- the blood from when they bleed the corpses, they know to keep it quiet cuz that is kinda a weird request even for a billionaire, so Dean or Sam don't-"
"TONY!" Tony shut his mouth with a click. Pepper rubbed her temples, taking deep calming breaths. "WHY do you need all this stuff?"
"Demons. And possibly ghosts. Among other things that go bump in the night." If Tony didn't look so serious, Pepper would have laughed.
"Oh god, you're serious. Okay, this is about why we have all these new housemates and what happened in the Tower yesterday. The Apocalypse." She put her forehead in her hands, leaning her elbows on her knees. "I'm still not used to that. To knowing the world could very well end at any moment."
"Castiel said we would have at least a few months," Tony supplied, trying to be helpful and reassuring. The Look Pepper sent him showed he had achieved neither. He sighed and gently held one of Pepper's hands in one of his, his other arm resting over her shoulders in the semblance of a hug. "The salt will protect us from demons, after we lay it out along the base of the building. We'll bury it in a rubber tube, so it's harder for someone to sabotage or for water to wash it away. And Dean and Sam said they'll put up protections against a whole slew of critters in as much of the Tower as they can without freaking everyone out." He tipped Pepper's head toward his, pressing a light kiss to the side of her head. "We'll all come out on top, just like we always do, Pep. Hero stuff, we've got this, we do it every other day."
"No, Tony, you don't! This isn't just some crazy scientist who was scorned by his peers too many times to care about safety, or or mutated fish eating New Jersey, this is the end of the world! Time travel! Demons! I..." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm not sure I can handle this, Tony."
"Hey, hey," Tony gently peeled her hands away from her face, holding them in his own, "we'll get through this, just like we've gotten through everything else."
Pepper glared at him though wet eyes. "Tony, you have almost died nearly ten times in the last year alone. And that was just against the normal villains we face. This is angels and demons and who knows what!"
"Pepper, our team is full of specialists now, they know how to protect us. We have an angel on our side, don't forget, as well as Thor and the Hulk. We'll be fine... Oh, and you should probably make some sort of public announcement about the new up-and-coming local artist whose art will be adorning the walls of the Avengers Tower within the next few days. Keep it vague."
"Tooony….."
"It's important, Pep." He kissed her and some of the tension melted from her shoulders.
She sighed, pouring more wine into their glasses. "I don't doubt it, Tony. I'm just… still coping with all of this new stress." She squeezed his hand and snuggled into his side. "I'm sure everything will be fine." She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than Tony.
Tony smiled and kissed the crown of her head, his arm warm over her shoulders, fingers rubbing her upper arm. A few moments of peaceful silence pass.
"By the way, we'll be converting your room into a nuclear bunker. For your own protection. I'm sure you understand."
"Tony!"
"Dean, stop messing with it, you'll knock it over."
"Shut up, Sam. I know what I'm doing."
"I really don't think you do. Why are we putting it up here anyway? Wouldn't it make more sense down in the lobby or something? Or better yet, nowhere?"
"It's called having a backup plan. Now, hold this."
"Dean, this is stupid."
"No, this is ingenuity at its finest."
"Someone's coming, we should proba—"
"Good, let's try it out, come on."
Dean…"
The brothers moved away from the door frame and pressed themselves against the wall of the lounge. The rest of the team was scattered around the tower, wrapped up in preparations and planning or just getting to know each other, what Coulson called proactive personnel interrelations. Sam and Dean had managed to bow out of the day's bonding session under Tony's orders to make the building 'undemon-y.'
They'd made sketches of all kinds of supernatural wards, demonic and angelic alike, and handed them over to some of Tony's employees. Hundreds of them were painted, framed, and hung all around the building under the guise that Stark was promoting some new up-and-coming artist. Of course, no one mentioned that some of them were painted in human blood. Devil's traps were painted under rugs and put in the doorways of most of the major rooms in the building. Tony spent a lot of money on ingredients for hex bags which the Winchesters and some interns spent hours assembling and scattering around the building, particularly in everyone's personal quarters.
Castiel was away investigating any and all leads on Lucifer and the others, keeping his ears open for angel chatter along the way. He was under instructions to use his cellphone if he came across anything noteworthy and to meet in the parking garage since the building was angel proof.
After all the sigils were in place, Dean insisted on hiding stashes in key points through the tower. Guns, salt rounds, iron, holy water, and more, all placed so Dean was never more than a room away from security.
His latest stroke of genius was rigging up a trough of holy water above the door to douse any unwanted entrants. It was a contraption almost childish in its conception, just a bucket with a string attached that, when pulled, would topple the bucket over and drench whoever walked in. It was simple, Dean admitted, but he figured one of the science geeks could amp it up later.
"You don't even know who's coming," Sam whispered.
"It's just water, they'll get over it."
As soon as the person's feet came into view, Dean yanked on the cord and the bucket tipped, sending a cascade of water down on to Natasha Romanoff's head.
Sam's eyebrows shot up and he instinctively took a step backward. Dean froze in place, his eyes wide, bringing a fist to his lips.
Natasha didn't move either, just stood there as the water dripped off of her with her hair plastered to her face. Her face remained stoic but her eyes spelled murder.
Dean chuckled timidly, shuffling his feet. "We were just…uh—"
"I've been sent to inform you that your…expertise is needed in the conference room." Without another word she turned her back on them and left, trailing water with her as she went.
Dean let out a breath and faced his brother who was shaking his head. "She is so gonna get you back for that," Sam said, tightening his jaw.
"She didn't look that mad, did she?"
Sam smiled wryly and patted Dean on the shoulder, brushing past him to make his way to the conference room.
Dean stood still for another moment, contemplating his fate before following along.
After returning their gear to their rooms, Sam and Dean took the elevator down to the conference room to find only a small group gathered there. At least one representative of each faction was present and accounted for. Natasha was there, of course; she stood against the wall by the door giving the Winchesters a steely glare as they entered. She had apparently toweled off before they arrived but her hair was still damp. Tony was noticeably absent and in his place at the head of the table was Jack Harkness. His greatcoat was draped over the back of the chair and dragged on the floor as he rocked back and forth. The Doctor had opted to keep his coat on; he was standing at the far end of the table closer to the other door, bouncing on his toes like he was prepared to flee any moment. Dr. Watson was seated comfortably at the middle of the table, his hands clasped in his lap and eyes straight forward. The tower's third doctor was also present and Dr. Banner stood at the front of the room with his arms crossed. He looked small in comparison to the large figure up on the big screen, a man the Winchesters didn't recognize.
Bruce was almost a stranger himself if they were being honest. He spent most of his time in the labs and only emerged for the occasional dinner or PPI session. He tended to avoid interacting with the team as a whole, worried that the combined stress and clashing of egos might trigger an unhealthy reaction. Of all their bunkmates, Banner was the one Sam and Dean felt the least familiar with. Even people like Sherlock, who weren't exactly personable, at least showed up around the tower even if he was only being dragged along by John.
Sam and Dean entered when Jack, the Doctor, and the man on screen were in the middle of discussing something about time traveling and the temporal flux that sounded foreign to the brothers. Natasha gave a little cough as they came in and Jack swiveled in his chair to face them.
"There you are, boys. Take a seat, we'll get to you in a moment," he said before turning back to the television.
"I'm not the expert on time travel here, Doctor," the man was saying. "But as far as I can tell, the events that have transpired so far haven't had any measurable adverse effects on the timeline. Of course, our technology only extends so far; your TARDIS would be better suited to picking up more universal interference."
The Doctor took his glasses off and stowed them away in an interior pocket. "Until it registers here I wouldn't worry about it. If they're tampering with anything, I'll be the first to know. For now, Rose and I will go take a look at that rip in the vortex. Make sure it's nothing to fret about."
"Don't step on any butterflies, Doc," Jack warned, giving the Doctor a salute. The Doctor returned it casually and strolled out of the room.
Jack propped his feet up on the table and turned his attention back to the Winchesters who had sat down between him and John. "Sam, Dean. This is my associate Ianto Jones. Ianto, meet the Ghostbusters."
"Hello." Ianto gave a little wave as Sam nodded a greeting and Dean gave Jack a look out of the corner of his eye.
"So…what did you need us for?" Sam asked.
Bruce took a step forward and adjusted his glasses. "With all the wards and such you've put up, we've got a good start on defense but so far we're pretty lacking on the offense. Luckily, they were only toying with us the first time around and we didn't take any major damage. But Tony wants to strike back."
"Which is a problem," Jack supplied, "because we have no idea where they are."
"Y-yes," Bruce continued after being interrupted. "What we need to know is if there's any kind of tell-tale signs that might point us in their direction."
The brothers shrugged. "Well, sure," Sam started. "There's plenty but—"
"It's all pretty hit-and-miss. Sometimes a cattle mutilation is attributed to a satanic cult and sometimes it's just a few hungry coyotes," Dean cut in, turning his palms up.
Bruce made a note on a clipboard.
"I can run an algorithm that can extrapolate patterns of supernatural anomalies," JARVIS's voice sounded from above.
"You can what-a what?" Dean asked, staring up at the ceiling, his expression lost.
"JARVIS can run a program that picks out certain occurrences. They could be in concentrated areas or happen in a certain order or pattern," Bruce explained.
"No kidding. Well, beats doing it by hand, I guess," Dean said, folding his hands.
"It's a rather basic procedure," JARVIS said.
Dean mimicked the AI's tone sarcastically under his breath.
Sam elbowed his brother. "Well, in that case, it'd probably help to look out for things like electrical storms, sudden drops in temperature…" Bruce wrote down each anomaly as Sam listed them off.
"That should be enough to give us a head start," he said, setting the clipboard down on the table. "JARVIS also has access to newspaper articles, police scanners, and things of that sort so if any keywords come up we'll be able to see those as well."
"We'll be doing something similar here in Cardiff," Ianto continued. "But instead of looking at reports we'll be watching the signatures those events leave behind. Perhaps if we're lucky, anything triggered by Lucifer will leave behind a stronger energy marker."
"Like you said, it's gonna be a bit of a long shot but hopefully this will point us in the right direction," Jack said.
"What about the Doctor?" Dean asked, tapping his thumb on the table. "What's he doing with all this vortex business?"
"The Doc's doing what you might call fieldwork. Patrolling the perimeter you could say. Except in this case, the perimeter is really the whole universe," Jack said.
"Oh, well that should be fun."
"He's left the TARDIS's number with me and I've compiled everyone's contact information on the tablets you've been provided with if ever the need arises," JARVIS informed them.
"Speaking of contact," Ianto began, scrunching his eyes as he typed out something on his keyboard and pulled up a few documents. "Earlier we received a message from an indeterminate branch of the British government."
Everyone turned their heads at John's scoff. "Sorry," he said, "I just have a feeling I know who you're talking about." He looked down at his lap, smirking, and let Ianto continue.
"Er...there wasn't much to it really. It just said they were aware of our involvement and would be keeping tabs on us and would contact us if they needed us."
"My understanding was Torchwood was outside the government," Natasha spoke up from the door. "How is it that they're keeping watch on you so easily?"
"We're outside the government, yes," Jack replied, "but we're not exactly covert. Do you know our doctor used to order our pizza under the name 'Torchwood?'" He and Ianto shared a sad, reminiscent smile.
"Anyway, a black car came and picked up Gwen about an hour ago. The emails are just signed 'MH.'"
John laughed again and everyone turned their attention on him. "That'd be Mycroft Holmes."
"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say he's related to Sherlock?" Dean said.
"Brother, in fact."
"And he works for the government?" Jack asked.
"Allegedly. I'm not even sure Sherlock could tell you what it is he does exactly but apparently it's very important. And I wouldn't be surprised if he approached S.H.I.E.L.D. next."
Bruce scribbled a few more notes on his clipboard and Dean saw Natasha press her finger to her ear and whisper a few words.
Jack swung his legs off the table and instead propped his elbows on the table. "So assuming that all goes well, we only have one more order of business to cover and it involves you two again." He pointed at the Winchesters.
"Okay, and?" Sam gestured for Jack to continue.
"Tell us more about the wards you've put up around the building. What exactly are they doing?"
Bruce got his clipboard ready again as the brothers explained their methods.
"The sigils are from all different religions and faiths for protection against all kinds of creatures. It might be a little excessive but we're covering all our bases here," Sam said.
"Most of them are Enochian and will theoretically work against Lucifer. As for Moriarty, he's just a guy; hopefully the good old fashioned burglar alarm will work well enough. And for Loki we're not really sure. We've come across a Trickster before but we don't know if the mythology is synonymous; we're still working on it," Dean finished.
"Hold on, what do you mean theoretically?" Jack asked, leaning forward with a concerned look in his eyes.
"Hey, I told you, man. We're just as new to this whole Apocalypse business same as you."
Bruce took off his glasses and twirled them around in his fingers. "Well, you must have some sort of basis of understanding. Do you have any contacts or sources that might help us further the research?"
"Yeah, if you guys are hiding some sort of supernatural Library of Alexandria, share with the class," Jack said, leaning back in his chair again.
"Well, we do know this one guy. I'm warning you now though. He's a little...cranky."
After the conference ended and Ianto had signed off, each person went their separate ways. Natasha left to attend to her other duties, Dean wandered off to the kitchen, and Sam and Bruce walked off together in the middle of a discussion about demonic omens and symptoms of possession.
John was slow in getting up from his chair and Jack stayed behind to sort through his notes.
"Something on your mind, soldier?" he asked and John whipped his head up.
"How did you…?"
"Takes one to know one, John. I recognize a vet when I see one." He put on his signature smile. "Plus, a few of us swapped war stories the first night."
John laughed and leaned against the back of the chair. "Right. So where…uh…where did you say you served again?"
Jack snatched his coat and put it on. "It'd probably be easier to list where I didn't serve." He laughed. "I've fought and died so many times I've kinda lost count."
"Must be hard. For your friends and loved ones. Having to see you die so many times. I know what that can do to a person." His eyes misted over and Jack knew he was back at St. Barts.
"It must have been harder for you. You thought he was gone; my friends know I'll come back."
"And what happens when you don't?" John looked steadily at Jack and Jack could feel him projecting all the pent up emotion in that stare. It had been six years since Sherlock had taken the dive but Jack knew there were some wounds that never healed. Even after Sherlock returned, everything hadn't gone back to normal. Jack knew enough about Sherlock from reading John's blog and what he'd gathered from their interactions at the tower so far to realize that Sherlock wasn't exactly someone you could pour your heart out to. As close as John and Sherlock were, Jack suspected there were just some things John couldn't talk to him about. The stress of all that had happened in the last few days was taxing on everyone but most of them had a partner to lean on. It seemed like Sherlock was the kind of person to internalize everything, leaving John without someone to turn to.
"Do you need a drink?" Jack asked, as he swept his coat out of the way and shoved his hands in his pockets. He stayed a few feet away so John didn't feel pressured or uncomfortable but kept up his smile.
John looked down at his feet and for a moment Jack thought he was going to refuse. But then he looked up with a smile of his own and pushed his chair in. "You know what? I think I do."
Jack laughed and took a hand out of his pocket to give John a hearty pat on the shoulder. They walked out of the conference room together and Jack could see some of the weight lift off of John's shoulders.
AN:
Sorry for the delay in posting!
There will be no post next week, as we are going to an every-other week schedule. (Thank you to those who participated in our poll!)
Thanks for all of your support!
~VWORPatron