Category: Crossover SPN/NCIS Family
Summary: Dean falls victim to a past he knows nothing about caused by a man he thought he'd never meet and John pays the ultimate price.
AN: So I learned something in the process of writing fanfic: don't post with the hopes that reviews and posting pressure will force you to finish a story. Just doesn't happen. So five yrs and ten starts later I give you my first SPN/NCIS crossover. It is complete but I'll be posting every couple days so I can double and tripple check for any errors. I hope you like it. :)
This story is completely AU for SPN and takes place during the begining of S4 for NCIS between Shalom and Escaped
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am not compensated financially for anything, these, though I wish otherwise and the occasional original character, do not belong to me.
Dean sat at the table on the screened in porch cleaning the guns. He and John had been in Mexico a week and he hadn't had much to do while John met with his contact Angelo. They were between hunts and taking up an occasional gun supply job was nothing new but it was the first time Dean had been able to sit still and just…breathe. He was fourteen going on fifteen and the last time he'd been in school was a couple years ago. John found it got in the way of bounty hunting and just decided to go the whole home school route. He would get the prerequisite curriculum mailed to a PO in Lawrence; have a contact there fax it to wherever they happen to be at the time then left the rest up to Dean to figure out. It was hard work trying to figure some of the stuff out on his own but he got by.
He suppose he could have stayed with the Campbells when they took custody of Sam a few years earlier but it would have left John on his own and he just couldn't do that. Sometimes Dean thought that he was the only thing that kept John from taking unnecessary risks to his life, well more than what he tended to, because without Sam to worry about he had become more driven. Driven to hunt down the bastard that killed his wife and everybody else like the killer.
It was kind of ironic that they sometimes fell into business with the Reynosa cartel seeing as it was a low life dealing scum that had killed Mary but John justified it by stating "We can't take down the cartel but we can go after the low life scum that even they don't want to have anything to do with. Even the cartels have some sense of code as jacked up as it sometimes is. Besides, we keep dealings to a minimum and we don't deal with the drugs."
It was an equitable agreement he had with his cartel associates. John supplied specialty weapons that he developed himself on an as needed basis and the Cartel left him out of the drug aspect. If the occasional dealer crossed John and ended up dead what did it matter? As long as they weren't Reynosa.
Now John didn't kill on a whim. It just wasn't how he was made even after the first bought of anger over Mary's murder. He always gave the scum a chance. It was risky but John played the dangerous game and called it justified.
Dean finished assembling the gun he was working on and was picking up the next when Marissa came around the corner of the house. He watched her approach, putting the gun back down as she walked up the three steps to the porch and stepped through the screen door letting it fall close behind her.
"What you been up to, gringo? Other than da obvious?" she asked, taking the seat next to him.
"Nothin'" he replied. He took Marissa in. She was a couple years older than him and full figured and Dean suspected that if he played his cards right, he'd have a shot at her. He knew she had at least a passing interest in him and his last growth spurt coupled with the work out regimen John had him on, helped a lot to add to his appeal. The deepening of his voice didn't hurt either.
He'd meet Marissa the first day there and she was the first girl he'd met in the past three years that was even remotely close to his age and he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass him by.
"So, Marissa," Dean leaned back in his chair and grinned at the Latina. "Ya know my birthday's in a couple days. I'm gonna need someone to show me the town."
Marissa tilted her head in consideration, looked at Dean and smiled. "What? Tu papi don't have plans for you?"
"My 'papi'," Dean huffs, "doesn't even know I exist." Dean stares off into space, scratching the back of his head, his mind seeming miles away. Marissa watches him and wonders where Dean's mind has wandered. She has always been good at reading people, a person has to be when living among the Cartel, so even though they've known each other a short time she has a feeling that they're not talking about the same person.
Dean shakes off the melancholy that threatens to creep in, throws on a grin like a new skin and leans forward in his chair. "The old man probably doesn't even remember when his own birthday is. He's kind of single-minded that way."
"Uh huh," she replies, crossing arms and legs, her own grin of suspicion in place.
"What?" Marissa just keeps staring at him. "Look, you wanna do something with me or not?"
"Sure. Okay, gringo, but only if you tell me da truth." Marissa sits up and leans toward Dean, drawing his eyes down to her lips and back up again. His own eyes questioning the reason with a quirk of the brow. "Too many lies aqui, gringo. Sometimes un poco de verdad is nice, no?"
"I guess a little truth is worth a night out with a hermosa niña."
Pedro stood by as the boy was dragged by the arms toward the waiting truck. He watched them haul the his unconscious body onto the truck bed with no regard for his wellbeing before lifting the tailgate and slamming it into place.
"You're not going to be able to do business with the Yanqui after this. You'll have to kill him," he continued calmly, rubbing his chin. "Your husband will not be happy, hermana."
"He'll understand," came the reply.
"Alright then." Pedro gestures to one of the men and waits for him to jog over to where he and his sister are standing. "Call Angelo. Tell him to take care of Winchester. Comprende?"