Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel, Supernatural or Dr. Who nor do I make any money from this. It's all for fun!
Take Me Down With You
Logan was calculating the evening's receipts. The newly renovated 'R' Bar was doing well for itself. He closed his eyes and could hear Alec laughing out at the bar. Although they had hired Original Cindy as a bartender, Alec liked playing 'Proprietor' and meeting and greeting the public. Max and Logan enjoyed that on occasion, but they let Alec enjoy the limelight most of the time. Logan enjoyed that being part owner made it convenient for 'Eyes Only's' informants to find him.
It had taken awhile, but since only Sketchy had really seen Alec at his worst during his "illness", as they called it, they were able to convince him it had been another Manticore virus that had gone rogue. It had been difficult, but they'd been able to deal with the deaths of the two people Alec had killed. Joshua had disposed of the bodies. It had been distasteful to do and all of them had felt tremendously guilty, but in the end they realized no justice would have been served with Alec admitting to the crimes, as much as he tried to convince them he should.
It had helped relieve their guilt a little when the second man had turned out to be a wanted fugitive for kidnapping children for the sex trade. The first man apparently had never even been reported as missing.
Alec would have taken to drinking if alcohol had actually affected him, but he had eventually moved on. He had seemed to settle nicely into their new routine even as they still occasionally saved the world – or at least Seattle from their new base in the R Bar's basement.
Logan thought it was too quiet in the outer rooms. Max was probably helping to clean up and Alec was probably sending the last of the patrons home.
After a few minutes he was glad of an interruption. Some nights he hated playing accountant.
"Logan, look, we got a postcard! They've gone to Venice."
Logan looked up to see Max entering. She had a big smile on her face. Logan matched it. He loved seeing her so happy. She looked more relaxed than he could remember. "I'm so glad you were able to get them the right papers to be able to leave the States for awhile. Maybe someday we could, too?"
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. It was one thing to forge sector passes to attempt to cross state lines, but leaving the country was very difficult. Logan could handle border crossings for Canada and Mexico, but being able to cross either ocean was almost impossible, particularly if you wanted back into the U.S. The government had become extraordinarily paranoid about 'foreigners'.
"Have you been drinking the profits?" he asked teasingly, knowing alcohol didn't really affect her or Alec.
"It's just – Venice. Wouldn't that be nice? It's so romantic."
"If by romance you mean the lovely sewagy stench of the water you wouldn't even wash your enemy's clothes in, then yeah – that would be romantic," Alec said as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"You are such a spoilsport, Alec."
Logan held his hand out and Max handed him the post card. It was a photo of Amy and Rory on a Gondola looking very happy.
'They don't have fish fingers or custard, but I still love this place,' Amy wrote in her usual flowery scroll. 'You haven't told Alec where the good stuff is, have you?' Rory wrote underneath. 'I'll want some when I get back.'
Logan read it aloud and laughed. He knew Rory and Amy were never coming back. Rory just liked getting Alec worked up.
"Hey, are you holding out on me?" Alec asked, pushing Max aside gently and lunging for Logan. Logan held up the postcard and Max took it out of his hand. Alec straddled Logan's lap. "You aren't going anywhere until you tell me where the good stuff is," Alec said, suggestively. Alec didn't get drunk easily, but he did enjoy some of the older whiskeys Rory kept hidden around the old Chapel. Logan had never expected to find so many hidden nooks until he bought the place from Rory. Rory had used them to hide items that weren't always legal or easy to find in after-Pulse Seattle – like high-end vintages or expensive chocolates that could be sold on the black market. Logan used them to hide more conventional things, like information about his informant network which was still alive and kicking.
"I don't know what he's talking about," Logan said and tried to put his arms around the other man. Alec quickly grabbed each hand and pinned them to Logan's side. Logan smiled. Alec loved restraining Logan. It seemed to be a particular fetish for him. Logan didn't mind because Alec was very, very good to him when Logan submitted.
"Max, I think we may need to interrogate Logan," Alec said.
She stepped up behind Logan and tugged on his short hair to pull his head back.
"Logan Cale, you'll tell us what we need to know or we'll have to…." She kissed him deeply. "suck it out of you." Alec began laving at Logan's neck while Max had his head pulled back and she went back to kissing him before pulling Alec in to kiss him.
"Agent Alec, I think that we shall have to take the prisoner in the back and work him over thoroughly," Max said in an exaggerated British accent. She stepped around the chair and slid behind Alec.
"You may be right, Agent 99," Alec said. "Ve haff vays of making you talk," he said with a very bad Russian accent. "You shall tell us eferyting vee need to know." Alec stood up, pulling Logan up along with him.
Logan laughed at the references of the old dvds Alec had found recently.
"I'm not so sure I'm interested in making him talk so much as making him squeal," Max said playfully, grabbing both of their hands and pulling them upstairs to their bedroom.
"Before you go all CIA on me, downstairs checked?" Logan asked. He knew they checked the seal routinely and there had not been a hint of anything untoward since the night Alec closed it ten months ago, but it made him uneasy. They had a responsibility to ensure it stayed closed. What Amy had had to do alone for so many years, their unique connection now allowed Logan, Alec and Max to share the burden. It had given Amy her life back, so Logan didn't regret it. He just didn't trust it.
Max rolled her eyes impatiently. She stopped and turned on the stairs facing Logan, letting go of their hands. "Yes…everything's still sealed tight."
"Sort of like your sphincter some days, Logan," Alec said, patting Logan's ass before passing him on the stairs. "I'll see what I can do to loosen that up tonight." He grinned. "Last one up gets spanked!" Alec spun and ran up the stairs.
"Hey, why do you always want to…" Logan started before realizing Max had already started tearing up the steps.
"Because you have such a tight ass, Logan!" Max yelled, laughing.
Logan looked back down the stairs hesitating. He shook his head. They would know. Max and Alec were right. They'd hear the Angels if the crack started opening again. He couldn't stop himself though. Too many years of being the person responsible for everyone else's welfare had accustomed him to trust nothing. Maybe that's why he enjoyed submitted to Alec and Max on occasion – he could stop thinking and taking care of everything. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He listened for a few moments trying to quiet his mind.
There was nothing in his head except the image of Alec and Max waiting for him upstairs. While he wasn't always aware of Alec's and Max's presence in his head, he usually felt the connection. Logan and Max could only share images on occasion. The clarity of that first night together was long gone, but it also never felt needed anymore. Alec kept a slightly stronger connection with both of them and could sometimes make himself heard when he was motivated. Logan suspected Alec could hear Max and him more than they could hear Alec, but it didn't bother Logan. Alec seemed more at ease knowing how much Logan and Max loved him and each other. Alec said it was what he imagined family really was. A weird, perverted family, but family nonetheless.
Alec's voice echoed in his head. "Get your lazy self up here or we start without you."
Logan loved it when Alec was motivated.
Crowley woke feeling like he was hung-over. He could hear shouting.
"Hands up!" a gruff voice ordered.
He immediately raised his arms until he realized he was laying on the ground. He opened his eyes and rolled over. It was dark and he was in another damned cemetery. He was really starting to hate these things.
"We didn't do anything!" a familiar voice said.
Crowley peered over the gravestone he had landed behind and sure enough – there was Dean Winchester and his brother Sammy standing over an open grave they had obviously dug up and were getting ready to salt and burn.
Crowley wanted to beat his head against the granite.
"You mean other than the desecration of the grave of a marine?" the other voice said. Crowley looked over and saw an older man, silver-grey hair, cut military style, holding them at gunpoint. There was a fierce looking dark-haired woman next to him, also holding a piece.
Sam and Dean looked down and Dean shuffled. "Okay – well that…yeah maybe," Dean said.
"We didn't kill them," Sam said, trying to sound reasonable.
"Just wanted their brains for dinner?" the woman said in a thick Israeli accent.
"No – that's what he'll eat if we don't take care of this now. He's a zombie." Crowley laughed when he realized Dean actually expected them to think he was sane.
"Are they more the George Romero Night of the Living Dead zombies or more Shaun of the Dead zombies?" another familiar voice asked. A man stepped out from behind a tree and began to handcuff Dean.
Crowley's eyes widened. There was Logan all over again.
"DiNozzo!" The silver-haired man snapped.
Another man stepped out from behind 'DiNozzo' and held a gun on Sammy as 'DiNozzo' finished cuffing them and reading them their rights. Apparently these people thought Sam and Dean had killed the man and then dug him up after burial.
"Thanks, Probie. All done, Gibbs!" he yelled as he and 'Probie' led Sam and Dean to their cars.
Crowley was about to forget the whole thing and pop back to Hell now that he was back in his own universe, until he looked back at Gibbs who was looking around, a look of confusion on his face. Crowley realized that he was looking at where the woman had been standing. Now there was a statue, one with an ugly grimace on its face and outstretched arms. It held a scythe in its hand.
"Where the hell did Ziva go?" Gibbs asked to no one in particular.
"Well - shit," Crowley said.
Hope you enjoyed it. It was a tough crossover but I had loads of fun working with tattooeddevil on her art prompt and she did some many lovely art pieces to go with this, I suggest you go check it out – either at her Live Journal or on this story in Archive of Our Own. archiveofourown dot org/works/789762/chapters/1491677