Where Angels Fear to Tread

This is a crossover fic concentrating on NCIS, Criminal Minds, and Supernatural. All characters belong to their prospective owners. This is entirely for entertainment purposes.

Spoiler warnings: NCIS season 7, Criminal Minds season 5, Supernatural season 6. There is a link to a promotional video for this story on my profile page.

Rating: T for violence and adult situations.

A/N:In an effort to give equal time to each series I'm trying to tell the story from the perspective of one show and its characters per chapter. I guess I'll see where it all goes though, Lol. I swear these stories sometimes have a mind of their own. Enjoy and please comment.

Summary: During a joint investigation, Tony, Abby, Sam, and Reid are all kidnapped supposedly by someone involved in the case that the NCIS and BAU are working on. Dean, Castiel and Bobby end up mixed up in the investigation that Castiel originally pulled Dean and Sam into because of a heavenly artifact and two missing angels. All three teams must work together in an effort to bring their own home as things all around them begin to unravel.

Chapter One: Waking Nightmare

"FBI is out." There was a huff of frustration in his tone as Dean adjusted the phone between his shoulder and ear awkwardly, while steering. "Nah Bobby, luck only takes you so far…this is Quantico." It seemed self explanatory. Walking into the home office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation pretending to be an FBI agent was ludicrous. Hell, setting foot in the state of Virginia wasn't high on Dean's list at the moment.

Bobby finally suggested posing as Private Detectives. They had to find a way to insert themselves into an ongoing joint investigation in Quantico and posing as either of the agencies already involved was a risk that Dean wasn't willing to take. He'd just gotten Sam semi back to normal; he wasn't going to lose him to prison or worse, not now. If he'd had his wish they wouldn't be hunting at all but Sam couldn't stand the idea and Dean had a feeling he knew why. It was the same principle as trying to make up for torturing souls in hell for Dean. Sam felt he had a lot to make up for.

Speak of the devil. "Yeah Bobby, thanks, I'll tell Sam." Dean cut the conversation short when Sam's call interrupted with an echoing bleep.

Dean took the next right, a since of relief that he was only fifteen minutes short of a cold brew and a shower washing over him.

"Anything?" Dean answered the phone abruptly. He'd left Sam at the room to scour the internet while he'd headed to library for copies of the local paper that they couldn't get online. This whole case was already leaving a bad taste in his mouth and it wasn't just because everyone was coming up with little to nothing.

Sam had had his soul back for all of fifteen minutes and they were sticking their necks on the line because Cas had a bad lead on one of the missing artifact from Heaven's depleted store houses. There was a part of Dean that hoped it turned out to be nothing, that it was a burnt run. Sam needed a real break, a little time. Dean could see it in his eyes. He never talked about it, but his conscience had to make up for its absence and there was over a year worth of sociopathic hunting that Sam had to face.

He'd admitted that he'd done things, things that Dean wouldn't approve of, that Dean couldn't even imagine and Dean believed him, especially after he'd nearly killed Bobby in an attempt to sully his body enough to make it uninhabitable to his soul. Sam hadn't wanted to deal with the risks if receiving a soul in tatters. But he had it and all the pain that had been wrought on it was buried behind a wall in his mind. That wall had its limits but it was working for now. Now, Dean just wished that he could spare him from what soulless Sam had done. It was eating away at Sam, making Dean wonder just how bad things had gotten in that year that Sam had been back and hunting without him.

"A little," Sam's tone suggested that the little he found wasn't going to be very helpful. Sam didn't need to wait for an invitation he promptly began to fill him in as quickly as possible, his voice sounding worn around the edges. Sam had been exhausted since his soul's return, his body trying to make up for over a year without sleep. It didn't seem to matter how much sleep he got, he always looked and acted like he needed more. "Aubrey Grant was reported missing in Fort Lauderdale last May, where she disappeared while out on a jog. She was a devout Christian, with a heavy hand in community services." Sam was beating around the bush, but the insinuation was clear to Dean.

"She Angeled up," Dean clarified.

"Looks that way," Sam cleared his throat and sniffed. He'd been courting a cold for the better part of a week. It seemed like his whole system was in shock from the return of what should never had been separated from him. "So she doesn't pop up again until Scarborrough when her body was found in the middle of a burned out corn field with a charred 18 ft wing span protruding from her torso, at least the outline of it. So did Cas say anything about the Angel?"

"Nayada" Dean nodded as though Sam could see him.

"Wait… No? Or was Nayada her name?"

"Nayada was her name," a half smile lit Dean's lips. He'd asked Castiel the same thing. "He said she was looking into the disappearance of that other guy, ya know the one that he sent to look for that jewel."

"Valdin was looking for King Solomon's Emerald." Sam cleared up the names for Dean with a chuckle. Dean could hear his typing in the background as if he was looking up another something so that he could tell him more.

"Right," Dean scoffed a little worried that Castiel hadn't been very forth coming with what the emerald did. He seemed to think that it wasn't so much the emerald as Valdin and Nayada had stumbled onto something unexpectedly.

"Did Cas say why he didn't think it was the Emerald causing the deaths here?"

"No, but I plan to have a one on one with him. I feel like we're going into this blind."

"Not completely. It's a good thing that Valdin was protective of his vessel's family. He left us with a few human traces to track. I'm working on his last few calls and locations, trying to pin down some sort of timeline for his disappearance before he died. If we can figure out where he was for the 2 days before he died we might get some sort of clue on where to go from here." Sam sounded winded when he finally took a breath and Dean furrowed his brow worriedly.

"I'm almost there. We can go over the copies I made at the library after I relax a little." Dean didn't see the need to put a rush on anything.

"All right, I'm almost finished with the last trace. I'll try and put together a time line." Sam yawned over the phone.

"Why don't you take a break too, Sammy?" Dean couldn't help but sound like the overprotective brother he was becoming again, not that he ever really quit. There was a soft scoff over the phone. The next sound, though, sent cold terror racing up Dean's spine. Gone was Sam's soft breath against the mic, gone the subtle sounds of rustling paper and typing, gone was all but a muffled cry and the resounding thud of the phone hitting the carpet.

"Sam?" Dean pulled the phone away from his ear when there was a sudden lapse of silence. It was still connected so he quickly tucked it back between his shoulder and ear, while simultaneously flooring the accelerator. He was picking up sound again, but what he heard was anything but reassuring. There was one hell of a fight going on. He just hoped that Sam had the upper hand.

Dammit, He was still a few minutes out. 3 minutes. That's all he needed. 3 Minutes! Dean swore under his breath as the fight seemed to be dying down but Sam hadn't returned to tell him that he was alright. He heard a hushed voice, but it wasn't Sam's.

Dean felt his heart sinking fast, nearly as fast as the car was moving when he finally pulled into the motel parking lot. He barely had his baby in park when he sprang from the car towards their room, the door cracked open just enough for the light of the room to escape against the moonlit front walk. Dean threw the door open and froze just inside the frame.

God no.

The struggle from earlier was vividly highlighted in shades of broken chairs and busted mirrors, all scattered across the beds and floor as if painting a video recap to go with the audio still seared into his brain. Dean regained some measure of composure – enough to search the room, but Sam was nowhere to be found.

A trail of blood soaked into the carpet below the table caught his attention and Dean felt like his whole world was threatening to collapse as he knelt down to retrieve Sam's phone. Dean palmed the blood stained device and rose to his feet. There was only one word on his lips…just one.

"Cas!" he wanted answers and he wanted them now.

OoOoOoOoO

Waking was agony. His head was thundering to the beat of a growing storm, the swollen black clouds holding his tongue, muscles caught in the molasses downpour, making movement a far reaching goal. His vision danced and holding his eyes open became impossible under the pain it wrought. The thunder rolled like an engine coupled with rubber against asphalt and then gravel, dirt, clod and bumpy, the hum of the lightning reverberating through him like vibrations from a swiftly moving vehicle.

Somewhere in the confusion Sam realized that he was moving, via trunk towards a destination but the effects of whatever the drug coursing through his body had him addled to a fault. He was trying to catalogue, to somehow remember each waking heartbeat, but the moments slipped through his grasps like sand through his fingers. In the end he was lost to the dark of unconscious over and over.

He wasn't sure when the storm ended, tapering into something more akin to sleep. The dreams began to bleed, morphing phantoms of shadows that swam away from conscious thought, lost on the cusp of waking. Sam jolted awake, sitting straight up, palms flush against the soft chenille comforter he'd been laid out on. Confusion furrowed his brow as he looked to the soft fabric, caste in hues of baby blue, white sheet peaking from the edges near a pillow of the same.

The whole room was bright, morning light filtering in through sky lights towering at least 15 feet overhead. Stark white walls surrounded him, but there was nothing claustrophobic about the room, save a lack of windows. Sam's alcove was set against the East wall, at least he assumed East from what he could tell about the rising sun. There was a bed, twin sized, with a simple metal headboard and footboard all painted white to keep with a disturbingly clinical feel to the place. A nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock rested to the left of the bed and next to it was a six shelf bookcase filled with books. Framed pictures of highway hotspots in black and white decorated the walls around him.

Sam arched a brow, swallowing tightly. Strange was taking a vacation and Absurd had been coaxed into filling in. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet meeting plush mocha carpet. Sam looked down in surprise and found his attention drawn to the black sweats and white t-shirt he was now wearing. What the…?

This was not a typical kidnapping.

What worried him the most was that the set up looked like he was expected to stay for an extended amount of time. Sam swallowed tightly searching where his alcove seemed to meet a larger central room. Across from him and the central room was another alcove set in a different color scheme and adornments with a sleeping man on the twin bed of similar make and model. As he approached the central sitting area, where a table and four chairs rested he noticed two more alcoves, smaller, but still plenty cozy, both set side by side along the larger south wall with a simple wall set between as if to give the occupants privacy from each other.

Each of those beds also had an occupant, one female, the other male. Sam explored further seeing a few doors along the north wall. Panic was setting in but he had already pushed it back down, banking on any clear thinking he could muster. He didn't know who any of these sleeping people were, where he was at or why and that made things difficult at best. He hurried towards the farthest door, a sturdy wooden door that appeared to lead out of the room. It was solid, reinforced with a metal frame and there was no knob of any sort, on the inside. He knelt, fighting off a wave of dizziness to inspect the small space between where the door would latch and the imposing frame.

There was barely any light to see and the fit was tight a precaution that only made Sam even more alarmed. These weren't amateurs, assuming there was more than one, which was a likely assumption considering the elaborate make of the room and the effectiveness of the kidnapping. There just wasn't enough to go on. Castiel was supposed to fill them in more once he'd taken care of something skyward. Sam wasn't even able to really remember what had happened in the motel room to lead him here, save there was a struggle and the guy was behind him. Had to be guy based on size and strength, possibly supernatural but it wasn't an angel or a demon, the struggle wouldn't have lasted as long.

Sam let out a measured breath and rose looking to see if there were any visible hinges on the door. There weren't. He slid his hand up the frame, looking it up and down. Any hinges had to embedded in a protective frame and it felt even more solid than the door. "Dammit." He swore under his breath and took a step back looking over to the other door. It looked as though it led into a closet, but was soon found to be a bathroom, complete with toilet, sink, and shower. No mirror. There were four tooth brushes set in a holder on the sink and what looked like all the toiletries four people could need for at least two weeks if they used them conservatively.

Things weren't looking up.

A stirring groan caught Sam's attention before he could explore the bathroom further. What made everything even more unsettling was the fact that there were three other people in the other room and he had no idea who they were or why they were here. He swallowed the knot forming in his throat and cracked the door, peering out just enough that he could see who was stirring. He had to play this carefully. There was no telling what was going on, for now though he had to play it like they were civilians and that all of them were in danger.

Sam arched an eyebrow from his perch behind the door when he noticed that the only girl in the room had awoken in her alcove and was quite animatedly getting to her feet, waking in what seemed like a panic. "Timmy…" Her voice was soft, slightly slurred, and questioning. By her stagger and frame he could guess that she was metabolizing whatever had been given to them much slower than he had. Sam pushed the door open slowly, trying not to alarm her. "What did you do with him?" She honed in on him quickly, confusion fraught emerald eyes searching over his form with fear filled questioning.

"I didn't do anything to anyone." That was a lie in the long run but for whatever she was talking about, he was relatively sure that he was telling the truth. "I woke up here, just like you." Sam raised his arms in an 'I come in peace,' gesture, trying to seem as harmless as possible. "Look at our clothes…" He motioned to his t-shirt and sweats to his bare feet then gave a nod in her direction meaning for her to take a look at her own black sweats and burgundy tee. "I woke up there." Sam motioned to his now empty alcove. "I was just looking around. There are two others in here." He motioned for her to come closer but kept his distance not wanting to break any forming trust by advancing on her. "Maybe one of them is this guy you were asking about?" He slowly motioned towards the other two alcoves.

He could see the distrust in her eyes, her features, but he kept his distance as she moved to get a look, she stepped around the wall that separated her hovel from the one next to it and Sam saw her brow furrow as she looked over the tall lanky form. She didn't know him. "My name's, Sam." He offered softly. She angled her neck to peer over her shoulder back at him briefly before she turned her attention towards the other alcove.

"Abby." She whispered, her own name hard to get out. She was practically shivering in fear and Sam almost took a step towards her to offer some sort of comfort, but her gaze had just fallen on the other man and suddenly she broke into a mad dash for him. Maybe that was the guy she'd been asking about?

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod." Just when Sam thought that the three word mantra was going to endure forever she broke it off as she sank to her knees next to the army green and black clad figure on the bed and began to shake him mercilessly. "Tony! Pleasebealright, bealright, pleasepleaseplease." Well she knew him, but he wasn't the guy she'd been asking about.

Tony…Anthony, whatever his name actually was bolted upright as anyone would had they just been scared awake on top of an already confusing and terror ridden situation and nearly beamed Abby in the head, swerving at the last moment to avoid a head to head collision. "Abby…" His voice was choked with alarm. "What are you doing…?" Sam assumed that the next word that the guy was looking for was 'here,' but he was quickly picking up that here wasn't anything familiar to him.

That in itself was another clue. It seemed like at least 3 out of 4 of them had all been snatched at or around the same time. Sam watched them carefully seeing how Abby was looking Tony over as if to make sure that he wasn't injured a deep concern for his well being showing just how much they meant to each other. Maybe he'd misunderstood her early; she could have said Tony, not Timmy. Hell what did it matter right now?

"What's going on?" Tony asked more reserved as he rose to his feet and quickly angled his body so that he was shielding Abby, putting himself in between her and Sam.

"I'm trying to understand that myself. My name's Sam." Sam explained quickly. "I just woke up about five minutes ago. There are four of us. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you two know each other, but I don't think any of us are familiar with the other sleeper over there." Sam motioned to the guy that had yet to wake. "So far no one has made any contact from outside this room, so I'm just as lost as you guys."

"That's comforting. I'm Tony, wish I could say it was nice to meet you."

"No offense taken." Sam smirked as though it would help put them at ease, but it wasn't making him feel any better at all.

"Well it looks too clean to be a Saw sort of deal." There was a note of relief in Tony's voice but Abby wapped his shoulder. "Hey." He looked over his shoulder at her in confusion.

"I don't even want to think about that sort of maniacal sick twisted…"

"We get it…" Tony cut her off. "Sorry Abs. I'm sure everything is going to be Ok." He met Sam's eyes, sharing a moment on instinct that they might just have to trust on each other by default and both of them knew that Ok wasn't on the menu.

OoOoOoOoO

Next Chapter: Perspective – NCIS. Exploring what the team knows about the case as they stumble onto the fact that two of their own are missing. Tony and Abby discover more about why they are being held and what is expected of them. The captives meet the last to wake. I'll try and post updates once a week.