Tony was still fuming from his most recent encounter with his father. Senior had said a few things in his drunken stupor, mostly about how ungrateful Tony has been and how his mother would have been ashamed of the man he had become; how she would have disapproved of his career choices, too.
He hated playing a Senior, but he had to get some type of alcohol into his system before he started throwing punches. He drove around the city, looking for a bar, but found the majority of them closed. It was three, what did he expect, the places to stay open because he was angry? He eventually stopped at a 7/11 and bought a bottle of Jack. With no destination in mind, he got back in his car and started driving.
After almost an hour of wandering, he stopped at the one place he had been trying to avoid since he had taken the trip to see his father.
He parked his car across the street, made sure he had his id (just in case he got questioned by security), and got out of his car. He snatched his bottle off the passenger seat, and shut and locked his car door, pocketing his keys as he jogged across the street.
If he remembered correctly from his youth, there was a hole in the wall. It must have been his lucky night, the hole was still where it used to be, and with some maneuvering he managed to wriggle himself through. He was surprised it worked; he wasn't exactly twelve-years-old anymore.
He pushed himself to his feet, dusting his jeans off with his free hand, and started walking through the graveyard. He used the light from the full moon to check each gravestone, cursing himself for not bringing a flashlight. He was thinking about just using his cell phone for light, when he remembered he had left it sitting on his father's dining room table. Yeah, he was such a genius.
He managed to find the correct gravesite, taking a seat next to it. He ran his fingertips across the engraved words, reading them: Margaret A. DiNozzo: 1946-1976 Beloved Mother, Wife, and Friend.
"Hey Mom," Tony said softly as he twisted the cap off the Jack. "Been meaning to visit you," he continued, taking a swig of the alcohol. He made a slight face as the liquid rolled down his face, but he managed to avoid full-on grimacing. "Dad says 'hi,'" Tony said bitterly, taking another sip.
"I will never fully understand that man, Mom," DiNozzo commented drinking some more whiskey. "I mean, he was decent once. I swear, I remember a time when he took me fishing or whatever. But that was before you got sick, before you died." He took another long pull on the bottle, glaring at the ground.
"Why'd you have to die, Mom?" Tony asked after a few moments of silence, his head starting to swim from the alcohol. "If you hadn't of die, things would have been different." he ran his free hand down his face, sniffing. "I wish you were here, Mom."
Tony took a few more sips of alcohol, getting a good buzz going, and was about to say something else when he heard a cry of pain coming from a gravesite a good 10 or 15 yards from his mother's.
The cop in him wasn't drunk enough to not care, so with a quick, "Hold that thought, Mom," he pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled for a second, but managed to keep his footing and started towards the general area of the shout.
He stumbled over his feet twice more, and got lost once, before he managed to find the source of the noise. For a split second, he actually thought he had imagined it, but when he spotted a half dug grave he thought better of it. He started towards the grave, stumbling a third time, and stopped next to a dirt pile. Whoever the grave belonged to (Milly Plant according to the headstone) someone was either trying to rob it or some sicko wanted her body for something else.
Before Tony could fathom what that was exactly, a second shout pierced the air and a body slammed into his. Tony saw white for a few seconds, but came to in time to feel a great weight, on his chest, shift and push off of him. He peeled his eyes open, watching as a blurry shape snatched a shotgun off the ground and fired it at another blurry shape.
Tony's eyesight snapped back into place in time to see the second shape dissipate. He furrowed his eyebrows as he pushed himself up on his elbows, wondering just how much he actually had to drink. He sought out his bottle, finding it half-full, but was sure some of it had spilled onto the ground.
"Get out of here," the first shape snapped, and Tony let his eyes settle on the guy. Guy was pushing it slightly; he was more like a kid. Around Probie's age, he was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, his biker boots slapping against the wet grass as he grabbed his shovel and began digging as fast as he could, keeping his eyes peeled for whatever he had shot at.
"What the hell is going on?" Tony demanded, pushing himself up on unsteady legs. He let his eyes flick around the graveyard, looking for the second person, his bottle clutched loosely in his hand.
"Look, I really don't have time for this," the kid replied digging faster. "If you can just move along, that would be great, thanks."
"I am not moving along," Tony responded stalking towards the kid. "This is someone's grave you're des… dese…" he couldn't think of the word.
"Desecrating?" the kid absentmindedly supplied for him.
"Yes, that. That's a felony, you know?"
"Yeah, and what are you going to do about it, Kojak?" the kid questioned sparing a single glance Tony's way before returning to his work.
"I'll arrest your ass," Tony snapped and struggled to get his wallet out of his pocket. It was then that a chill ran up his back and the breath escaped his lungs in a cloud of fog.
"Okay, buddy, I'm gonna need you to duck," the kid said just as he pointed his shotgun at Tony. Instinctively, DiNozzo went down quickly, the gun went off, and whatever was behind Tony was gone again.
DiNozzo scrambled to his feet, turning in a half circle, nearly fell, and looked back at the kid who had returned to his digging. He wondered how he was going to get a hold of that kid. He didn't have his gun (having left it in the glove compartment in his car), he had no handcuffs, and he was too buzzed to actually see straight. But there was no way he was letting this kid get away, or the kid's friend.
"Look, pal, you'd make my job a hell of a lot easier if you just left me alone," the kid said as he struck the lid of a coffin. He slammed the shovel into the ground, breaking the wood, and pulled himself out of the hole.
"That's it," Tony snapped finally pulling his wallet from his pocket. "You, my psychotic friend, are under arrest," he continued flashing his badge at the kid.
The kid snorted when he read what agency Tony worked for, and walked around the older man to his bag. "I've seen better fake id's, man," he commented grabbing a bottle of lighter fluid and a canister of salt from his bag.
"I hate to disappoint you," Tony started putting his id away, "but it is one-hundred percent real. Put your hands behind your back."
"You have got to be kidding me," the kid muttered shaking his head. "I really didn't want to kick a fed's ass tonight."
Tony's eyes went wide, not from what the kid had said, but from the woman that had just seemed to materialize behind the kid. He couldn't get out a warning before she backhanded the kid to the ground, salt and lighter flew out of his hands as he slammed into her gravestone.
Reacting on instinct, Tony flung the half empty bottle of Jack at her, hoping to at least distract her enough to pick up the kid's gun. To his immense surprise, the bottle went right through her and shattered against the headstone next to hers.
She whirled around to look at him, he gave his 1000-watt smile, and she sent him backwards without touching him. He hit the ground, hard, the air knocked from his lungs. Tony struggled to push himself to his feet, trying to pull air into his lungs. The girl's eyes flashed in anger before he was thrown again, hitting back first into an angel shaped statue.
He was thrown a third time, landing dangerously close to the newly dug grave, and scrambled up on his elbows, crab crawling away from the woman. His hand hit something solid, metal, and quickly he scooped up the kid's gun. He pointed it at the woman and fired, watching as she dissipated once more.
Tony pushed himself to his knees, breathing heavily, very much aware of the pain radiating through his body. He ignored it as he shuffled towards the kid. He stopped short of the younger man, noticing blood dribbling from his head, and staining the grass
"Hey," he said gently shaking the kid's shoulder. "You with me?"
"Dad?" the kid groaned, forcing his eyelids open.
"I sure hope not," Tony joked as two, unfocused green eyes zeroed in on him. The kid looked confused for a good six seconds before his eyes focused once more and he remembered he was in the middle of something. Before Tony could stop him, he pushed himself into a sitting position and grabbed the salt and lighter fluid he had dropped.
"You really think you should be moving?" Tony asked breathing heavily.
"I've got a job to do," the kid replied as he began pouring a liberal amount of salt over the body, every so often stopping to shake his head. It wasn't lost on Tony that he didn't even try to stand up, no doubt trying to avoid stirring up his concussion.
Once the kid had emptied his salt canister, he began squirting lighter fluid all over the body. A chill ran down Tony's back and he slowly pushed himself to his feet, scanning the immediate area for whatever was attacking them.
She appeared next to him, but before he could fire the gun he was flying again. He landed a few inches from a mausoleum, his head connecting with the edge of a close by grave. He managed to stay awake, but barely, and watched as the woman went after the kid.
"Hey!" he shouted pushing himself to his feet. Everything waved in and out of focus, his feet more unsteady than when he had been drinking earlier, and he stumbled towards the woman with the shotgun raised.
She turned to look at him, the gun flying from his hands. It clattered to the ground a few feet from Tony, and soon the woman was inches from his face. He reeled back, his vision blurring again, and tripped over his feet. He hit the ground, a spike of pain jolting through his head and down his back. He tried to crawl away from the woman, but he was too dizzy. She was barreling down on him, and he had a gut feeling that this was it.
Then she let out a scream and burst into flames. Ashes fell through the air before they slowly dissipated, and Tony was left with wide eyes and an aching body.
"Holy hell," he whispered looking up to see the kid approaching him.
"Not exactly," the kid responded offering Tony his hand. The older man hesitated a second before taking it. He was pulled to his feet, the ground tilting underneath him, and latched onto the kid to keep himself from falling.
"What the hell was that thing?" Tony questioned looking at the kid.
"You really want an honest answer?" he retorted helping Tony over to a small bench. The kid lowered the older man onto the seat before moving across the graveyard to get his stuff.
"Yes," Tony replied indignantly.
"Ghost," the kid replied as he shoved his collapsible shovel into his bag. "Her name was Milly Plant. She died fifty-six years ago, and has been terrorizing a bunch of kids at a local orphanage. Now she won't be doing that anymore."
"A ghost?" Tony questioned skeptically. "That was a ghost?"
"You've just saw her with your own two eyes and still doubt me?" the kid questioned as he zipped up his bag.
"Not doubting so much as thinking that Jack has driven me crazy," DiNozzo muttered wiping blood out of his eyes. He glanced at the still burning grave and said, "Not gonna fill that in?"
"Wasn't planning on it," the kid responded throwing his bag over his shoulder, wincing slightly. He walked back towards Tony, looking down at him with a relaxed smile on his face, "Still gonna arrest me, Agent DiNozzo?" Despite the smile, his eyes were still guarded.
"You said an orphanage, right?"
"Two blocks away. The woman who runs it is named Gerty. She's too motherly for my taste, but if you want to go and talk to her then have at it."
Tony nodded, glancing at the burning grave again. He knew Gibbs would let the kid go; he was helping a group of kids, doing one of the few things Gibbs would approve of, but Tony wasn't Gibbs. This guy had broken the law; he threatened a federal agent, and did who knows how much damage. He should have been hauled off to the local police station the moment Tony ran into him.
But for the life of him, DiNozzo couldn't bring himself to arrest the kid. So, instead he nodded his head towards the exit and said, "Get out of here."
"Excuse me?" the kid's eyebrows raised slightly, the only indication that Tony had taken him by surprise.
"Get out of here, kid," he repeated giving him a relaxed grin. "We'll just keep this between friends, okay?"
"Why are you helping me?" the kid questioned still not moving away from Tony.
"I'm not helping you. I'm helping me. No one is going to believe this if I tell them." Tony nodded towards the exit a second time. "Go on before I change my mind."
"Thanks, I guess," the kid said and started walking away from Tony. He stopped short, turning to look at Tony again. the older man gave him a questioning look and the kid said, "You do realize you wasted a perfectly good bottle of Jack, right?" And the mini Ghost Buster was gone, leaving Tony laughing quietly on the bench.
For a while, afterwards, he just sat in silence watching the smoke from the grave furl into the air. He couldn't believe he just helped some kid fight a ghost; a real, live (well, not exactly live) ghost; a ghost that gave him quite the beat down.
With a groan of pain, Tony slowly pushed himself to his feet. He shuffled towards the graveyard's exit, the sky beginning to lighten some, hoping he never ran into that kid again. He had a feeling it would make his life a bit easier.
This is a first for me. I am publishing a multi-chapter story that is actually finished. Yes, I am trying to get away from putting up WIPs.
Anyway, this is my take on the 'Five Things' series. I wanted to do one for a while, and the fact that I finally get to do my Tony/Dean friendship story, I am actually very excited about this.
So, let me know what you thought, I thank you for reading, and I own neither Dean nor Tony.
P.S. There will be a new chapter every Monday until this story is completely published. Just so you know.