Disclaimer: We've really run out of witty disclaimers this time, but that's okay because this is the last chapter. EVER. Dun dun dun.

"I can't believe they got out," Tony muttered. He was standing with Ziva in the now empty garage. McGee sat on the ground a few feet from them looking rather sheepish. Outside, Fornell was organizing the NCIS agents and the quickly arriving FBI agents into search groups. Apparently the FBI were getting a little tired of losing these guys.

"I cannot believe they came back for their car," Ziva added.

McGee did not get a chance to contribute his own comments as Abby came barreling through the door at that moment. She skidding to a halt at his side. "Oh, poor McGee. Did they hurt you?" She cooed embracing him awkwardly, as he was still seated on the ground. After a moment she pulled back slightly to examine the large lump forming on McGee's temple. "Don't worry McGee, we'll make them pay when Gibbs gets them back," she assured him.

"Can't make them pay for something they didn't do," Gibbs' voice interrupted from the doorway.

Abby looked at Gibbs confused, then turned back to McGee. "McGee?" she asked.

"McClumsy here took himself out, Abbs," Tony informed her, ignoring McGee's unhappy glare.

Abby pulled back and looked down at McGee who was now turning a bright shade of red. "McGee!" she scolded.

"I tripped!" he stammered. "It could happen to anyone."

"I'm gone twenty minutes and you all lose two highly wanted fugitives?" Gibbs asked, already knowing the answer.

"Uh. . ." Tony muttered, looking to Ziva for help. When none seemed forthcoming he continued, "Well, you see, Boss, technically the FBI lost them. They were in FBI custody at the time." It was pathetic and Tony knew it, but at the moment they had little else going for them.

"Fornell is organizing agents, and there is a APB out on their vehicle," Ziva said, bringing their boss up to speed. "Though I still do not understand why they would take it."

"Boss," Tony started hesitantly, casting a worried glance in Abby's direction. "There is something else. They got into the lab and managed to get a hold of a few of their things."

There was silence for a moment as Abby let the information sink in. "They were in my lab?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"I'm sorry, Abbs," Tony said seriously.

Abby swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm okay, it'll be okay," she muttered softly to herself.

"What did they take?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm not positive," Tony replied. "Abby will have to go through the full inventory list, but it looked like some of their guns were gone."

"They didn't take my mass spec., did they?" Abby asked anxiously.

Tony hesitated. "No. . . they didn't take any of your equipment."

"I don't like the way you said that, Tony," Abby said unhappily.

Tony forced a sheepish grin in an attempt to comfort her. Then he turned back to Gibbs. "By the way, Boss. Uh, where did you go off to for twenty minutes?"

"To track down Hamilton's cousin," Gibbs replied after a brief pause.

"The manager's cousin?" Tony repeated, "Did you find him?"

"No," said Gibbs tersely, "Seems he skipped town."

The rest of the team, who had been listening in, all deflated noticeably at this piece of news.

"So we're back to square one," Tony said dejectedly.

Gibbs did not nod or agree, but from the way he strode out of the room they all knew they were in for another long week of late nights and cheap take-outs.


"I can't believe we got out," Sam said shaking his head in amazement.

"Oh come on, Sam, we've been in worse situations before," Dean replied lightly while steering the impala smoothly around a corner and then to a stop next to the gates of a graveyard.

"I don't know, Dean, that was close. Way too close," Sam insisted.

"Whatever. What do you say we salt 'n burn both those bodies and get the hell out of dodge?"

"I'd say that's the first decent idea you've ever had," Sam muttered under his breath.

"I heard that, Sammy," Dean tossed over his shoulder as he climbed out of the car into the rapidly darkening evening.

They both automatically scanned the area for any signs of people. Finding none, Dean grabbed the can of gas they had stopped and picked up, along with a book of matches. Sam grabbed their newly purchased shovels and a small bag of rock salt he had snagged before they had fled NCIS headquarters.

Together they made their way quickly through the graveyard scanning graves as they went until they located the deceased couple's graves. It was a little earlier than they would have liked, but night was falling rapidly and the graveyard was clearly deserted.

Working quickly, they soon had the husband's casket uncovered. Dean pried open the box to reveal the skeletal remains of what had once been a marine. Uncapping the gas can Dean drenched the bones while Sam tossed the salt. A lit match dropped into the grave caused the remains to flare up brightly.

Not stopping to watch the fire, the Winchesters quickly turned their shovels to the next grave. They repeated the process with the wife's bones and without bothering to rebury the ashes they made a beeline for Dean's car.

Sam was half-way into the passenger seat when he noticed Dean was still standing there. "Dean?"

"Now tell me, Sammy, how exactly did you think leaving my car behind would be a good thing? Hmm? We would never have gotten this far without it."

"Oh come on, Dean, seriously? I said I was sorry, man."

Dean gave him an unimpressed look. "And," he continued, "Not only did you suggest abandoning the car. You suggested we replace it. With, I believe your exact words were, 'a better one.'"

Groaning, Sam slid into his seat. "In case you've forgotten, we are a little short on time here."

"I'm just not sure how I can let you sit there in my car, knowing you think of her as some expendable hunk of metal that can be replaced at whim," Dean ranted as he got into the driver's seat not yet starting the engine.

"Dean," Sam said wearily, "I'm sorry I said your car was replaceable. Really. I am. Now can we just go?"

"I don't think you mean that, Sammy. And she knows you don't mean it," Dean replied gesturing to the dash as he spoke.


"All right, all right," Dean gave in starting the car. "Still it worries me, Sammy. How am I supposed to trust you with her now that I have seen your true feelings?"

Sam groaned again and banged his head lightly on the side widow. "How are we even related?" he asked no one in particular as they headed for the highway and somewhere hopefully far, far from DC.


"I do not understand these men!" Ziva complained frustrated.

"Are you still on that? I thought we agreed to let the FBI have them," Tony replied looking across to where Ziva sat at her desk with Abby's inventory lists from the Winchester's impala spread across her desk.

"Not only did they flee with their car, but they also took several items from Abby's lab," Ziva began, despite Tony statement that the case belonged back in the hands of the bureau agents.

"Yes, Ziva. I did catch that part," Tony commented.

"Yes, but it is what they took that I do not understand," she explained holding up the list. "They took two sawed off shotguns, and an extremely old revolver!"

"A gun is a gun," Tony said with a half shrug.

"If they had only wanted weapons why not disarm the unconscious agents? Or why not take the new handgun that was also on the table?"

"They're insane, Zee-vah. They don't have to make sense!" It was clear Tony was getting tired of this entirely pointless conversation.

"And then they go and grab a bag of salt? It does not make sense."

"Like I said. They. Are. Insane. Come on, Probie, back me up on this one."

From his own desk McGee muttered something unintelligible, muffled by the fact that he had his face buried in his arms on his desk.

"Sorry what was that, Probie?" Tony asked.

"I said," McGee replied lifting his head slightly, "Gibbs is going to ship me to Alaska isn't he?"

Tony grinned, "Of course not, Probie." McGee looked slightly relieved until Tony added, "It's so much easier for him to make your life hell when you're close by."

McGee groaned and dropped his head back into his arms with something that sounded distinctly like, "Alaska can't be so bad."

Still grinning, Tony turned to Ziva. "Where has Gibbs gone off to anyway?"

"He is down in Abby's lab, attempting to calm her. Something about her babies being violated or something," Ziva replied, clearly confused by what she had heard.

Downstairs in NCIS's forensics lab, Abby paced around the room like a caged animal. "They touched them Gibbs," she said. "All of them. They . . . they touched them!"

Gibbs just stood by silently watching the distraught gothic tech as she made a circuit around the small room.

"It's just so. . . so—" Abby trailed off unable to find suitable words to express herself.

"Was anything broken?" Gibbs finally asked.

"God no," Abby replied, clearly horrified at the very thought. "I had to perform a few recalibrations but—"

"And that took how long?"

"A few minutes. . . But Gibbs, that's not the point!" she exclaimed.

Gibbs just looked at her blankly.

"Gibbs he touched my babies!" she repeated, as though he should understand.


"Dean . . . What are you doing?" Sam asked. He was sitting on his bed in the motel they had finally stopped at, after driving all night and all the next day and was a little concerned by the three firearms lying on the the bed next to his brother.

"What does it look like, Sammy?" Dean replied picking up a piece of his dismantled shot gun.

"Uh, okay. You're cleaning your guns. But why are you cleaning your guns?" Sam ventured tentatively.

"They're my guns." Dean said as though that explained all. "They're what keep us alive, Sam. And who knows what those weirdo forensic techs did to them!"

"Ri-ight," Sam said with a raised eyebrow before turning his attention back to the new laptop he had just bought, using Dean's newest fake credit card.

Dean continued as though Sam was still paying attention. "They probably took them all apart. Got their grubby little swabby things in all the mechanisms. I mean they. . . they touched them, Sam!"

"Mh-hum." Sam replied absently, as he had stopped listening.

"Sam are you even listening?" Dean asked, but he got not response. Sighing heavily he went back to cleaning his gun. "Can't believe they touched my car and my guns."

The End

A/N: Thanks for reading and all the reviews! :)