Enjoy, if you want more, review. I'm kinda greedy. Just a warning. I still love you guys though. Sorry, that was uncalled for. We aren't at that stage in our relationship yet, are we?

Anywho.

Warnings: The word 'Fuck', 'Fucking', 'Motherfucking' and 'Shit' is used quite a bit in this chapter and maybe entire story. I hope you aren't offended by the English language.

Disclaimer: I don't own shit. The Avengers and Supernatural belong to their rightful owners.

Dean grumbled angrily as he violently slapped the mop to the grimy floor and raked it across it. All the while, a nasty frown on his lips.

"Fucking Gabriel…" he snarled and added a bit more force on the mop to the floor. "Fucking Archangels… fucking dicks… fucking tricksters…"

"Would you mind not using such language? It is rude."

Looking up from the nasty-ass floor, Dean gave the prisoner locked up in a glass chamber a few meters away a nasty glare.

"Shove it." Dean said and continued abusing the mop and ground.

Loki fixed him with a look but Dean wasn't looking. The look was penetrating and full of disgust and rage.

"Insignificant human. Watch your mouth."

"In-" Dean gave the prisoner a long calculating look, trying to determine if it was worth it. In the long run, he didn't have the energy to deal with a snobby alien. "Whatever."

Loki only huffed and went back to pacing his glass dome of a cell. The alien began muttering under his breath rapidly, not caring who heard or who saw.

Dean only shook his head and gave the mop another vicious shove.

He swore, when he got out of this stupid dimension, he was going to kick Gabriel's ass six ways to Sunday. He meant, seriously? The Marvel universe? Not saying he wasn't a fan, cause as a kid he had been, but growing up had changed that.

As a kid, after Mary's death, Dean hadn't had any time for comics or really any kind of game and had instead given everything he had once found entertaining to Sammy.

As a grown up, he had learned that there was a very strict line between fantasy and reality and if you didn't know where that line stood, then you were dead. It was just a matter of survival. Surviving was Dean's top priority and if he was gone, then who was left to take care of Sammy?

He had responsibilities and playing in the fantasy realm of Marvel and DC comics was not one of them and it never would be because of their hunter careers.

"Why are you here?"

Inhaling in a way to try to stave off the annoyance and conserve the patience, Dean looked at the pale prisoner mere yards away, sealed permanently in his little bubble.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, wondering if the bastard had gone off the reservation already.

Loki gained a very irritated look and opened his mouth, careful to pronounce each and every syllable with a tightened jaw, "Why are you here?"

Dean cast him a deadpanned look. "I'm on vacation, what does it look like?"

There was a blotch of darkness that seemed to be seared into the ground directly under Dean's feet and he became determined to remove it as he began scrubbing restlessly at the stain.

The locked up alien gave a viciously annoyed look. "Do not get snarky with me, human. I am asking you a question. You would do best to answer."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, not really paying attention as he scrubbed the stain with a bit more force. "I swear…" he muttered, "this fucking stain…"

"Having some problems?" Loki asked snidely.

Dean gave up on the stain finally and breathed deeply.

"I'm going to fucking murder Gabriel."

Director Fury scrutinized the video evidence and pictures and even statements that concluded that Dean Winchester was fully certified to be a janitor of the prison holding cells that were held in the Helicarrier's most secure area.

Just, really, none of it was adding up in Nick Fury's head though. He never remembered signing Dean into the Helicarrier's personnel. He never remembered even meeting Dean Winchester but Agent Coulson did, the agent even said he was a level headed guy, which meant, Fury was missing some memories.

Now, it could just be him getting on in years.

Or this could be a major security breach that has had everyone fooled except for himself which was definitely worse than anything because if that was the issue, then they were dealing with a major player.

Fury pushed a holographic image of Dean Winchester to the side and brought up the man's credentials.

Clean, expertly done. Nothing too bad but still, nothing too clean. Spotless. Flawless.

Apparently, Dean grew up with two loving parents, one John Winchester, the other Mary Winchester. Both parents were spotless as well but had died only two years ago due to cancer. Dean had a younger brother named Samuel Winchester but said brother died in a car accident when Dean was only 12.

Going further, deeper into the file, Fury continued to read.

Deanna Campbell and Samuel Campbell, Mary Winchester's parents. Both clean, nothing incriminating except for a few drunk and disorderly accounts but nothing too serious.

Henry Winchester and Susan Winchester, parents of John Winchester. Both clean.

There was absolutely no evidence that Dean was anything but a good and clean citizen of the United States. Nothing drew his attention and nothing looked too strange.

Mumbling incoherently, Fury closed the entire fie and deleted all history of the search.

Dean munched quietly on the burrito in the cafeteria of the Helicarrier. The perpetual frown that had once marred his face had now died down to a carefully constructed blank face. It would do no good to raise suspicion with his ever horrible mood.

Taking another bite of the one good thing to come out of being dragged into another dimension, Dean smiled a little.

It'd been forever since he'd last had something to eat this good. He should probably save some later for when Gabriel would drag his ass back to the other dimension.

Hopefully the dick would hurry the hell up because sooner or later, Dean was going to lose his shit (it was only a matter of time) and he was gonna castrate that motherfucker of an Archangel.

"Hey Dean!"

At the new overly cheerful voice, Dean wanted nothing more but to groan and slam his head repeatedly against the table. Looking up, he smiled at the bright young woman who'd sat herself across from him. He swore to God, the woman had to be related to Gabriel some way or the other.

The only thing that kept him from setting her on fire with holy oil right then and there was the fact that there was the slim chance that she was just a human with a bubbly personality.

"Hey…" Dean managed with a small plastic smile. He trailed off, having no frigging clue as to what her actual name was.

The lack of greetings didn't seem to deter her in the least but actually seemed to spur her on as she opened her mouth excitedly. "So, have you heard?"

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, desperate to keep himself from just telling her to save it and back off. "Heard what?" he replied, somewhat regrettably.

She only giggled, "One of the Avengers is going to be coming aboard with another alien! They're gonna take Loki, the prisoner and transfer him to another planet!"

"Oh, really?" Dean managed, not really caring at all as he continued to devour his food as if he was a starving man. "Cool."

She smiled at him. "I know, right? I mean, the real life superheroes? That's so awesome!"

Dean gave her a smile and nodded before going back to his meal. Weren't super-secret agents supposed to be level headed and quiet and former assassins and... not this? He felt a headache coming on and wanted only to groan in frustration.

He missed Sammy, Cas and his precious Impala.

"Hey, are you alright?" she questioned, suddenly lowering her voice. "You aren't sick are you?"

Part of Dean just wanted to scream at her to get the hell away from him or else he would go ahead and set her on fire while the other half told him to simply ignore her.

"'M fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Dean ground out. "I am perfectly fine. Just a little tired is all."

"Oh," she gained a look of understanding and nodded sympathetically, "okay."

"Well," she spoke up again, her voice cheerful once more, "I'll leave you alone. Just remember to get some sleep tonight!"

And without a further exchange of words, she was gone, leaving behind a very exhausted and irritated Dean to finish his meal in peace.

Muttering to himself about crazy women and assholes for angels, Dean finally retired to his sleeping quarters. After crawling into the warmth of the bed, one way more comfortable than any he'd ever slept on before, he fell asleep quickly but without the lingering thoughts of wanting most of all to see his bitchy baby brother again.

Dean got up before the alarm, unusual since Sam was the one to always wake him. But nonetheless, he crawled out of bed and got dressed, in the uniform supplied by the agency he apparently served, and made his way out of the tiny room and towards the cafeteria where they stored the caffeine.

He had a vague notion that the time was somewhere around 4 to 5 o'clock but it never bothered him if he got his regular supply of coffee.

Shrugging through the doors and into the lounging room of the on board café, Dean made himself some coffee that tasted vaguely like the shit he usually got. It made him feel a bit more at home with Sammy by his side.

"Up this early, really?"

Too tired and trained, Dean didn't even flinch as he turned to see a new face.

"Helps me get in the mood to not want to maim anyone." he answered simply.

The man chuckled. He was average height with piercing blue eyes and ruffled dirty blonde hair. He wore casual clothes but sat and shifted silently, giving off the air of some sort of trained assassin like most of the other agents in this stupid flying apartment.

Standing, the other man stuck his hand out. "Clint Barton."

Shifting forward with silent steps and nimble moves, Dean took the man's hand and shook it. "Dean Winchester. Nice to meet ya."

Clint gave him a long look before smiling and moving to sit back down again, a mug of steaming coffee secured tightly in his hands.

"Are you an agent?"

Dean sat down across from the man. "Nah." he said, a hint of a smirk itching at his lips, "Jus' the janitor."

A look of something akin to disbelief crossed Clint's face. "No, really?"

"Yep."

"Then who trained you?" Clint asked, his eyes narrowed and face twisted up in concentration.

Dean looked at the agent in mock confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Clint gave him a look, "What? Really? You move silently, your center of gravity is always perfect. Hell, I even watched you check all the exits when you walked in here."

Dean managed to stifle the embarrassment at being caught doing his normal routine checks but only shrugged. "I had to learn from a young age how to stay alive, I guess." he said simply.

Understanding crossed the man's face across from him and Clint nodded. "Oh." was all he said before returning his attention to his coffee and taking a long drawn out sip.

"Hm." Dean replied, not bothering with words as he too took a long gulp of coffee. It woke him up a bit and he shook his head to get rid of any hazy thoughts.

"So, why are you here?" Clint asked half mindedly as he moved his mug around, watching the liquid inside slosh and spin.

Taking another chug of his drink, Dean snarled. "Because an asshole who thinks he's god decided to throw me in here."

Clint raised an eyebrow but Dean didn't bother saying anything more.

"So an 'asshole' just decided to throw you in here?" he questioned, disbelief coloring his tone. "You do know that this is a high security organization that specializes in terrorist attacks and alien activity, right?"

Dean took another drag of his coffee. "Yup."

Clint just shook his head and chugged down the rest of his own drink while muttering to himself. "The people you meet in the morning."

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