Title: Deal of the Century
Story: NCIS/Supernatural crossover
Rating: T/PG – Gen (mostly)
Summary: When two of his team members are mortally wounded, Gibbs makes a trip to the crossroads. OneShot.
Warnings/Spoilers: NCIS – none; SPN – vague references to Weekend at Bobby's, Live Free or Twihard and All Dogs Go to Heaven.
Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda
My muse has been at the crack again…
Gibbs guided the sedan to a halt and killed the engine before getting out and taking a look around. He was out in the middle of nowhere, far from where he was needed, but this was one of the few places around with a crossroads…or at least one where something could be buried in the middle of them.
He pulled the metal box out of his pocket and opened it, staring at the contents: graveyard dirt, black cat bones (those had been harder to come by than he had expected), various herbs, and a photo of himself from one of his expired ID badges. Satisfied that everything was there, he closed the box, pulled a small trowel from his pocket, and walked towards the center of the crossroads. Once he had reached the center, he squatted down and dug a shallow hole with the trowel before placing the box within and covering it. He stood up and looked around, waiting. Soon he heard a crunch of gravel and turned toward the source of the sound.
A beautiful woman, dressed for a night out on the town, stood just a few yards away. Her dark red hair was pinned up in a stylish knot, and as she stared at him her dark eyes flashed red.
"Well, well, well. Leroy Jethro Gibbs. What brings you here tonight, sugar?"
Gibbs managed to clear his throat before speaking. "Two of my agents are in the hospital. The doctors say they won't live through the night. I need…I need them back. Alive and whole."
"I see. And you're willing to damn yourself for the sake of another. Interesting."
"For both of them, yes. I am."
"A two for one special? I don't think I can swing that."
"Then maybe I need to speak to your supervisor," growled Gibbs, barely hiding his rising panic.
"Maybe you do."
Gibbs saw a flash of fear in the woman's eyes before he turned toward the source of the new voice. A dark-haired man dressed in expensive attire stood at the edge of the crossroads, a smug smile on his face. Gibbs stared at the man in surprise.
"You're her supervisor?"
"I'm so much more than that." He directed his gaze to the obviously terrified woman. "I'll handle this one, Darling. Now, be a dear and bugger off."
The woman vanished and then man turned his attention back to Gibbs.
"Lerory Jethro Gibbs. I must admit, I'm quite surprised to see you. I never suspected you even knew about this little loophole."
"I hear things."
"Yes, I imagine you do. Let me guess: a fellow Marine, or ex-Marine. He helped you out with a little unusual problem. Afterwards, you started talking, and…"
"Pretty much. Now, about my agents..."
"That's the problem with you Americans: always so pushy, so about the bottom line. May I ask: why are you so eager to condemn yourself to Hell for those two?"
Gibbs smirked. "Figured I was already headed that way, might as well get something in return. Want to tell me why the head crossroads demon cares?"
"The head crossroads demon might not, but the King of Hell certainly does."
"King of Hell? You mean…Lucifer?"
"Nah. He has other things on his mind. I really wouldn't want to be him, that I can tell you. Call me Crowley. I used to be the head crossroads demon but then, shall we say, I staged a little coup d'etat. But enough about me. I should tell you that you have the wrong impression about where you're headed."
This time Gibbs could not hide his surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Well, as the quaint little saying goes, 'Heaven doesn't want you, and Hell is afraid you might take over'. Quite literally, I'm afraid. So you see, you don't have anything for leverage."
Gibbs felt like the bottom had dropped out of his world. All of this, all for nothing: he couldn't save his agents, his family.
"But then again, I might be able to work something out…"
"What is it? What do I need to do?"
"First, you can't tell anyone I did this. Word gets out that I've gone soft and it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time." Crowley smirked and removed something from his pocket. "I need you to watch over something for me." He held it up for Gibbs to see.
The object was a pendant attached to a black cord. The pendant was flat and circular, with silver metal around the outside edge, inscribed with strange symbols. In the center was what at first looked like black glass, but as Gibbs watched the black brightened to white, with swirls of red, blue, and green pulsing though, like snakes gliding across the landscape.
"What is that?" asked Gibbs, tearing his gaze away from the strange yep hypnotizing sight.
"Something very precious, and very, very dangerous, especially for you if the ones who seek it find out that you have it. I will give this to you, and in exchange for you keeping it safe and out of the hands of its original owner, I will help your agents. Now, they won't be instantly cured. I can't have anyone suspecting what you did to help them, but they will live, and eventually recover. I'll come back to collect it when I need it, and you're free and clear. Do we have a deal?"
"We do," said Gibbs, and paused for a moment to think. "But I'm not kissing you."
"Fair enough. We'll shake on it." He held out his hand and after a moment's hesitation, Gibbs took it. He felt a slight burning sensation before Crowley released him, and he noticed that the pendant was no longer in Crowley's hand.
"It's well hidden. Now, I'd love to stay, but I need to go have a little chat with a Reaper. Nice doing business with you, Leroy," he said, and vanished.
Gibbs stood at the crossroads for several minutes, going over the encounter in his mind. Finally he walked to the sedan and climbed in. He started the engine and turned the car around, heading back the way he had come.
He had been driving for about an hour when his cell phone rang. He checked the number and with a distinct feeling of dread he answered.
"Gibbs! Where are you? You need to get back to the hospital right now!"
"They're getting better, Gibbs! The doctors said they're going to make it!"
"That's great, Abbs. I'll be there as soon as I can." He snapped the phone shut before he guided the sedan to the side of the road and stopped. A sense of relief, along with a feeling of apprehension, coursed through him and it was several minutes before he had collected himself enough to continue on towards his destination.
Gibbs walked into the hospital ninety minutes later and made his way to the Intensive Care Unit. When he arrived he was immediately greeted by Abby who jumped up and hugged him tightly.
"Hey, Abbs," he managed to say before she launched into an explanation of what he had missed.
"They're going to be OK, Gibbs! The doctors were really surprised, but they're both going to recover. It was just so weird, one minute they were on the edge of death and then it was like they just…made a U-turn. Tony was even awake, just for a minute, about fifteen minutes ago. Tim is still unconscious but they think he's going to wake up soon. I was so worried when you left, that you wouldn't be back and time before they…but they didn't, and…where did you go, anyway?"
"It's a long story, Abbs. One for another time."
"Right, OK. But-."
"Later. Much later."
"Do you want to go see them, Gibbs? Of course you do, stupid question. Ziva and Ducky are already in with them. Let's go." She started pulling Gibbs towards the closest door and with a slight grin he followed.
"How much longer do we have to stay here, Boss?" asked Tim. "I'm going stir crazy."
Gibbs smirked at the sight of his two agents in their adjoining hospital beds, looking much better than they had three days ago.
"He's not the only one," grumbled Tony. "The TV selection here sucks, and I've watched all four of the DVDs Abby brought me."
"Three times. I swear, if I hear one more quote from Pulp Fiction, I'm the one who going to go…well, you know."
"Ha! I knew that would run off on you eventually, Probie."
"I'd rather get a good night's sleep. Besides, you snore!"
"I do not!"
"Yes, you do, Tony," said Ziva as she stepped around Gibbs and into the room. "But if you're good, the doctor says you can leave tomorrow."
Gibbs had to smile at the relieved looks that crossed his agents' faces. "You'll both be on desk duty for a while, but Ducky says you should be cleared to go back to work in another week. Or two."
"That much time off will drive me nuts," grumbled Tony.
"Short walk," muttered Tim.
"Do I need to smack you two?" asked Gibbs, barely managing to keep a serious look on his face.
"No," they replied in unison.
"Good. You'll be staying with me for the first few days. I guarantee I'll find something to keep you occupied. Understood?"
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow."
Gibbs turned to his younger agent. "Yeah, Tim?"
"Thanks. I…I don't know what you did, but I can't help thinking we made it because of you."
"Of course it was because of Gibbs, Probie. He didn't give us permission to not make it. Right, Boss?
Gibbs just smiled and left, happy beyond what he had ever expected just a few days ago. His good mood faded as remembered what he needed to do.
When he got to his car, he pulled out his cell phone, along with a wrinkled and worn scrap of paper containing a phone number. He dialed the number and waited. Finally, a rough voice answered.
"Who wants to know?"
"My name's Gibbs. A man named John Winchester said I should give you a call if I ever needed to know anything about his 'special' line of work."
The voice on the other end of the line was silent for a few moments. Finally Gibbs got a response.
"What do you need to know?"
Gibbs sighed in relief and steeled himself for what was sure to follow.
"What can you tell me about the King of Hell?"
I'm not the only one who really wanted to see Gibbs vs. Crowley, right? ;)
Please let me know what you think.