Chapter 6

Tim's phone buzzed an alert. Glad to have a distraction from Gibbs' crazy-fast driving, he skimmed the results.

"Uh-oh. Boss, Rogers bought a bus," he said. He scrolled around his background search results and groaned again. He sent an urgent email to a contact, shaking his head, then went to the Academy Events page of the internal web site. He didn't see the deep frown Gibbs was wearing or see the frustrated glances his boss kept throwing at him as seconds passed after his declaration.

"McGee, what!" Gibbs snapped, his voice so loud in the enclosed vehicle Tim jumped and nearly dropped his phone.

"Oh, uh, just got background search results. There's a group from the Academy going out to NASA's Langley facility tomorrow. Rogers lead the selection team, and..." Tim cross referenced the participants with his list of northern-born cadets and nodded. "They're all northerners, and they'll be bused..." He searched again. "On the same kind of bus Rogers bought. He also made a hefty purchase at an auto body shop. Could be paint. If he's planning to swap the buses, maybe plant a bomb... The location of his gps is a warehouse district. It'd be a great place to prep something like that."

"Brief Tony and Ziva," Gibbs ordered, flooring the accelerator. Tim looked over his shoulder toward the car his team mates were in. It dropped back then sped to catch up at the increase in speed. Tim called them.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam groaned as he regained consciousness. He was pinned against the wall of the warehouse well above where the demon stood beside his makeshift altar with a woman laid out on top of it. She was sobbing quietly; there was blood on her face and arms from cuts the demon had made.

"Bit of a cliché, isn't it?" Sam said. Dean was on his way; Sam just had to play for time and try to keep the demon distracted until he arrived. His approach had been noted, apparently, and he'd been neatly trapped, the witch-killing supplies smashed, his gun knocked from his hand and casually thrown beneath the altar.

"Sometimes the classics just work," Rogers replied. His voice now had a strong southern lilt to it, and Sam cocked his head.

"Most demons don't remember where they came from when they were human. Why are you so special?"

"Huh, did my accent give me away?" The demon smirked. He continued mixing ingredients next to the woman.

"Well, that and you being a witch," Sam conceded.

"They came over as labor, who knew I'd learn so much? All that power, and the old man wouldn't use any of it to save him or his people. I was quite the actor even then, gettin' him to tell me all about the power, makin' believe I was all goody-goody. He sure was surprised when I gutted him to get the owner's daughter all soft on me."

"Is that how you ended up in hell?"

The demon turned and his eyes flashed black. "That's just impolite to ask," he informed Sam. Sam laughed.

"Yeah, that's my big concern. Politeness."

The demon shrugged and turned back to his spell work. He sprinkled something onto a small charcoal brazier and it flared a putrid purple-gray smoke for a moment.

"Did a hunter get you?" Sam persisted. "There were some legendary hunters down south." The demon didn't respond so Sam took a chance and pushed him, all the while looking around for any sign of Dean. "Before the north stomped you, anyway."

"Damned yankees," the demon muttered. Sam continued to needle him, trying to distract him from his work and slow him down, without pushing so far the creature just killed him.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The NCIS team arrived at the general location of the gps signal and spread out to search for their suspect. They found a rental car a block away, and Tim frowned at the name that came up on the rental agreement when he searched the plates: Samuel Osbourne, one of Sam's aliases. It had to be a coincidence... But he bit his lip and shook his head at the idea. He'd worked with Gibbs too long not to have a great suspicion of coincidence. With a knot in his stomach, he resumed the search with his team.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The demon began cutting into the woman on the altar again. She screamed piercingly.

"Hey! She's not gonna last for your spell. Better use me instead," Sam called. Adrenalin was flowing through him and he trembled with the need to do something, anything, to stop what was happening to the woman.

"Nice try, you stupid huntin' bastard. But this little gal is just the right blood for just the right time. Plus, she almost spoiled my placement at the Academy when she noticed me watchin' her. She's tough, like her ancestor was. Blood calls to blood, and the idea that one of my children's' children mixed with filthy monkey blood makes this just sweet justice."

"You are one twisted fucker," Sam growled. The demon turned back to him and arched one eyebrow, the look reminding Sam in a sickening way of one of Tim's expressions.

"Demon," he said, the word soaked in the feeling 'duh'. He went back to carving on the woman, and Sam slammed his head back against the wall impotently. Movement caught his attention, a flash of white across the dim interior of the warehouse. He stared, trying to see it again.

"Yes, we have company. Just relax, they ain't gonna stop me," the demon muttered to Sam. He bent and picked up Sam's gun. "They'll come in like they think they can do anything with me, then maybe I'll just-" he snapped his fingers and jerked his head to indicate snapping their necks. He snickered and continued to list the other possible dooms awaiting the people who had the audacity to interrupt him while Sam choked, thinking furiously what he could yell that would clear the building of security or police or whoever had stumbled into this nightmare.

He took a deep breath to shout his chosen warning, but a ball of invisible, solid nothing filled his mouth. He could make a muffled grunt, but that was all. He growled and thrashed his head. He saw the flash of white again and his eyes filled with horror as he recognized the lean form beneath the silvery-white crown of hair. Gibbs. And with Gibbs would be his team, including Tim. He had to do something! Panting, trying not to panic, he concentrated hard and attempted to move any part of his body. His left hand twitched, and he closed his eyes in relief. There was a chance. He struggled and his fingers moved a fraction toward his pocket.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The team had heard screaming, and zeroed in on the building, gaining entrance and dividing up to sweep the area. Gibbs and Tony split left, Tim and Ziva right. They moved cautiously, scouting.

Tim and Ziva rounded some crates and caught sight of the Commander. He had a knife in one hand and a gun in the other. He raised the knife over the figure on the table before him, and she gave a piteous shriek of fear. Tim glanced at Ziva, who nodded, indicating she would cover him, aimed carefully, then stepped out.

"Federal agents, drop the weapons!" Tim shouted. The man whirled and began firing in his direction. Tim dropped, firing two rounds, and rolled behind a crate.

Peeking around the corner of the crate with one eye when he heard Ziva firing, Tim tried to get a bead on the Commander, and he froze. Across the dimness, through the mote filled air, he saw the familiar shape of Sam, up against the far wall. He was up off the floor, maybe on an unseen ledge, but while his head moved slightly, he seemed immobile otherwise. No. No ledge. Pinned ten feet up by an unseen force. Demon. His blood froze and he stared. The careful matrix he'd been building in his mind to try to find a way he could go on if Sam was no longer in his life was suddenly revealed to be made of breakaway glass. Seeing Sam held by a demon was all the tap it took to shatter. There would be no living without Sam. Tim couldn't make out Sam's expression, and suddenly that was the most important thing in the world. He began to move across the vast open space, feet shuffling, drawn directly forward as if by a cord. His awareness encompassed nothing else, just Sam.

"McGee, get down!" DiNozzo roared. He lay down covering fire. When Tim kept moving slowly forward even as shots from the far side of the warehouse began kicking up dust near Tim's feet, Tony acted. "Ziva! Cover!" The woman obeyed and the firing at Tim stopped. DiNozzo charged him, angling so that when he dove for Tim, they both ended flat out behind machinery, several yards from where Gibbs had just appeared. He saw in the seconds he was sprinting at Tim that there was a man against the far wall who had been Tim's direct trajectory. And now Tim was fighting, twisting, kicking Tony off of him, trying desperately to rise, so Tony clutched his arm, yanking him back under cover.

"What the hell are you doing, McGee?!" DiNozzo demanded, still struggling to keep his probie behind cover. Tim gave a tremendous jerk trying to free himself from Tony's grip.

"He's my lover!" Tim exploded, face red, furious, overwhelmed with desperation at seeing Sam held helplessly. Demon. There was a demon. They always seemed drawn to Sam, and they were terrifying. Tim shuddered, breathing hard.

DiNozzo's head snapped back like he'd taken a punch. He released Tim's arm and fell back on his butt, staring at his partner. "What?!" His voice cracked up two octaves.

"Later, DiNozzo. We got two civilians being held by Commander Rogers. Take Ziva and circle around back, find another way inside," Gibbs ordered.

"Boss, Sam's brother has got to be around somewhere. Dean's a hothead, and he'll be armed," Tim added. Tony looked between Tim and his boss, but the glare from Gibbs got him moving.

"Right, Boss," DiNozzo replied, and made his circuitous way to Ziva, staying behind cover.

"We've got to get Sam out of there, Boss! Please, I'll do anything, please, just-" Tim's eyes were enormous in his paper-white face; such terror in them that Gibbs worried the younger man might pass out. He put a weathered hand to Tim's cheek, cutting the flow of words with the gesture.

"I know, Tim."

The look of determination in Gibbs' eyes brought a measure of calm to Tim, and he slowly nodded. Gibbs inclined his head, and Tim followed. They worked their way around some of the larger equipment toward the door through which Rogers would have entered. A familiar form crouched by the sedan from the Academy.

"Dean," Tim hissed. The hunter turned and scowled. He ignored Gibbs.

"What are you doin' here?" Dean snarled. He appeared to be fiddling with a bottle, stuffing a cloth into the mouth. He'd arrived only to find Sam a prisoner, some chick being carved up like a turkey, and now a bunch of damn civvies.

"The guy's Navy," Tim snapped. Dean rolled his eyes and gave Tim a hard stare. Tim cocked his head at Gibbs and Dean shrugged.

"Well he's got my brother, and I'm gonna get him back," Dean replied. "The guy is really dangerous."

"I got two other agents looking for a way in behind him," Gibbs stated. "We got this. McGee, get him outta here."

Tim considered. "Boss, Dean can help. I'll stay with him. You flank him and we'll keep Rogers focused on us." He could see Gibbs didn't like it, but they held eye contact for a long moment, then he agreed with a sharp nod. He moved away. Tim pulled out his spare clip and removed a bullet. He flicked his knife open and began carving on the tip. "Demon, right?"

"You need to get outta here. Make shit up, get your team clear so I can do my job."

"I'm helping Sam. Do you have a devil's trap set anywhere? What's your plan? Can Cas help? Is Benny around?" Tim carefully scribed a tiny pentagram onto the bullet, then pulled another and started repeating the process. His mind was working furiously, trying to figure out a way to get his team out of the way, what explanation he'd have to come up with, how to get Sam out safe.

"The hell are you talking about? Get your guys and get out."

Tim looked up and met Dean's glare with a look of his own. "No. We're doing this together."

Dean was taken aback by the fevered intensity in Tim's gaze. He finally noticed what Tim was doing to his ammo and he grunted in surprised approval. If Tim knew enough about demons to turn his bullets into mini devil's traps that would immobilize one, maybe he could be useful.

"This thing's too smart to walk into a trap, but those might help," Dean indicated the marked ammunition. "Damn thing's a witch, too. That's what this is for-" he held the bottle up. "I don't know if an exorcism will work, or if this molotov will do the trick. May need both. Bastard's smart. And it's just us, dude, don't ask. You know your people will just get in the way."

Tim's phone buzzed.

DiN-doors are all blocked-WTF?-

Tim shook his head. "Well the demon just took care of two of my team. Tony and Ziva are stuck outside. Gibbs... He's tough. If he sees what the demon can do, he'll handle it. He'll..." Tim swallowed hard at the thought. "He'll be a good distraction, anyway. He should be able to take care of himself. Let's go get this thing."

They made their plan and Tim tried to focus on what they needed to do and not on his own imminent demise should Sam die. He texted Gibbs, telling him to stay hidden, with little hope it would happen.

Dean carefully climbed the ladder to the narrow catwalk that ran the edge of the building. Tim waited until Dean signaled, then moved himself into line of sight of the demon, crouching low behind cover. He kept his eyes trained on the objective, but he ached with wanting to look at Sam.

The demon began chanting, and he seemed to have reached the final stage of his ritual. As he lifted the knife, Dean signed, Tim fired, and the witch killing spell was cast, the molotov of esoteric ingredients shattering against the demon's chest and quickly burning out. His body had jerked with the two shots Tim had landed, one in his upper back, the other in his right hamstring. Tim held his breath, then cried out when the demon gestured at Dean, who yelled as he was dragged over the narrow rail of the catwalk and slammed to the floor to lie pressed against the cold concrete. Firing his weapon, Tim stood and unloaded into the creature in fury. Its body again jerked with each impact, but otherwise ignored the shots. The molotov hadn't killed it, the bullets, of course, hadn't killed it, and as Tim began to call out the exorcism he'd memorized months before when he read the Supernatural books, he was gagged and also flung to the floor.

The three men watched and listened helplessly as the demon completed his chant and stabbed the screaming woman in the chest. Tim wanted to vomit, and Dean cussed loudly. Then silence reigned, until the demon began to swear a blue streak. It appeared that the spell or ritual had not gone as planned. The demon's upper body rotated, but his feet remained planted. He tried to turn right, then left, then his foul language rose to a howl he began tearing at his flesh, trying to pull the devil's trapped bullets out of his body.

Sam's struggle through the whole ten minutes it had taken since he'd spotted Gibbs finally bore fruit. Buried in his jeans' pocket, his fingers moved across the screen of his smartphone and a recording of an exorcism began to play.

The demon writhed, clawing to try to reach the last two bullets in his back, ignoring the sound.

Tim finally realized that the demon was laughing amidst his profanity and railing at them.

"Stupid yankees, all you fuckin' yankees! You think all southerners are morons! I'm locked in this body you imbeciles! I'll get these damn things out and complete my mission and the south shall rise!" The demon was on a roll, shouting about the changes that would occur, about putting people back in their places while his burned fingers dug at the bullet hole in his upper back.

Gibbs moved up silently behind him, a knife in his hands. Tim caught sight of him and shook his head, fighting the invisible weight that kept him pinned to the floor.

"Boss, no!" Tim tried to scream, tried to warn Gibbs that a knife wouldn't work on the demon, but the low hiss that emerged from his throat was unnecessary. When the blade slid home, between the ribs, next to the spine, a blow designed to sever the abdominal artery and the spinal cord when the knife was twisted and jerked sideways, the demon within the Commander lit up, flashing like a lightning storm from eyes, mouth, nose, pores, and then the body dropped, demon and host dead. Tim's head whipped back to Sam, who had dropped ten feet and lay in a heap. Tim scrambled up and ran to him, his vision narrowing to nothing but Sam.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N I'm not always confident in my writing of action, so I hope this was at least clear, even if it wan't as suspenseful as I hoped. Review?