AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hadn't intended on continuing this, but oh, well.


10 Years Later

The lesser demon paused as he passed the locked room in Hell. Ever since Crowley had taken over, the place had undergone a massive renovation. The fire and torture replaced by long lines which never ended and went nowhere.

But without the tortured souls, Hell also grew quieter.

So hearing two souls shouting at each other was something of a surprise.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Crowley warned, coming up behind his minion. Catching the demon's puzzled look, he rolled his eyes and led his underling away. "Those two were causing quite a disruption. So we had to keep them away from everyone else."

"But who are those two?" the demon asked, curious.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Anthony Michael DiNozzo, Jr.," Crowley replied with a smile.

The demon stopped, looking surprised. "Gibbs? How did you manage to do that? Everyone else tried for years."

But Crowley smiled smugly as he continued his tale. "Funny story, actually. You see, DiNozzo somehow contracted pneumonic plague and was about to go belly-up. Until Gibbs sold his soul to me in exchange for his agent's life."

The demon still looked confused and looked back, even though he and Crowley were far down the hall by now. "So how did DiNozzo end up here?" he asked, frowning slightly.

Crowley smirked again as he went on. "A year later, DiNozzo was in a bar getting drunk off his ass. His friends—Abigail Scuito and Ziva David—started to take him home, but Miss David is something of a speed demon. Their car crashed into the Winchester's car. Both Miss David and Miss Scuito were severely injured and so DiNozzo sold his soul to make sure the ladies survived with no lasting injuries."

Thinking of how Gibbs must have felt about finding out that DiNozzo had squandered his life after being saved by his boss's sacrifice, the demon let out a low whistle. "That must have gone over well. But who keep them locked away from the other souls?"

"Just think about it," Crowley explained. "Those two have nothing to do for all eternity except blame one another. Sounds like fun to me."


Strangely enough, Hell looked an awful lot like the NCIS squad room.

Except there was no one else in the room and no computers.

Sitting across from one another, Gibbs and Tony just stared at one another, not quite sure what to say.

The morning after Gibbs' deal had come due, Tony had been the one to find his boss's body, ripped to pieces in his basement.

For the next year, Tony had become driven—determined to put away as many bad guys as possible before his own time was up.

"Tony," Gibbs said, after a while. When the younger agent looked up, Gibbs leaned back in his chair and said, "I owe you an apology."

"No, you don't boss," Tony replied, earnestly. "Because even if I'd have known about your deal, I still would have made my own."

"I know," Gibbs replied, nodding. "And I'm sorry for how I acted afterwards."

Tony just smiled and went into his desk where he was actually surprised to find an unopened bottle of bourbon and pulled it out. "You sure this is Hell?"

"Well, I'm stuck with you for eternity, aren't I?" Gibbs said with a warm smile.

Recognizing the comment as a joke, Tony smiled and opened up the bottle of bourbon, taking a drink before giving the bottle to Gibbs.


"That was generous, sir," the lower-level demon said, sounding surprised.

"What can I say?" Crowley said with a smile. "Can't risk two of my favorite souls launching a revolt, now can I?"