Sam Winchester parked the Impala in the NCIS Headquarters parking lot and took a deep breath before getting out of the car. He knew this was his only chance. He'd looked through this Agent Gibbs' records and knew he went with what was right rather than what was expected.

If there was any hope of getting Dean back in one piece without being caught himself he had to trust NCIS. After all, the case that had brought them to DC. The reason Dean had been captured by the FBI was all because of the Navy.

Marines were dropping like flies and no one in the normal world had a clue what was happening. Sam and Dean had come as soon as they'd read about it. Unfortunately, hiding in DC was harder than usual. Dean had been caught within 72 hours of coming to town.

Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his weary eyes. NCIS was Dean's only hope of getting away from the FBI. While neither of the brothers were happy with trusting authorities they were both more comfortable trusting a Navy department rather than the FBI.

He stepped into the elevator and prayed he was doing the right thing for Dean. After a moment the door pinged open and he approached an area where several agents lazed around. Apparently work was light at the moment.

"I'm looking for an Agent Gibbs. Can anyone help me?" Sam asked, scanning the faces in front of him. A woman who held herself so well Sam felt his caution rising. A man who had the same cocky shine in his eyes as Dean. And a younger man who was typing at his computer. Sam decided the best chance was the younger guy.

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs. How can I help you, son?" a man spoke behind Sam. He didn't allow himself to visibly react but the guy had shocked him.

He turned. The haircut, the tone of voice and how the man held himself all screamed at Sam. Marine. This guy had been a marine at some stage. He cleared his throat. "Well, sir, my brother has been taken by the FBI."

"Why would you come to me if your brother is being interrogated by the FBI?" Gibbs asked, taking a seat at his desk. "Nothing to do with me."

Sam's chin tipped up. He couldn't help it; he'd reacted this way to his father for so long it was practically second nature. "When they interrogate Dean they tend to speak with their hands. They didn't take him back to their offices. I also thought you might like to know because we can help you solve that current murder mystery of yours."

Gibbs looked Sam up and down. "If you say you can help me solve a case that's got everyone's head spinning I'd say that makes you more of a suspect than anything else."

Sam shook his head. "This is what we do. When a case makes no sense it's generally within our area." He looked at his watch. "They've had Dean for almost two hours. Are you going to help or do I really have to go and assault two FBI agents?"

"First of all I'm going to need to know who you two are." Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "You're real names, no fakes."

Sam took a deep breath. He looked over at the younger agent and gestured toward his computer. "May I?" the agent nodded and Sam pulled the keyboard and mouse closer.

After a few minutes of typing Sam grinned. He glanced over his shoulder at the plasma and raised an eyebrow at Tony. The screen that Sam was on popped up on the plasma. FBI's most wanted.

"I'm Sam Winchester and my brother is Dean Winchester. I figure Dean's record is quicker to find than mine and I don't have to hack any databases to find his."

"You want me to get between the FBI and one of their most wanted?" Gibbs asked, standing up.

Sam nodded. "He's only on their stupid list because of what we do. And the only reason he got caught is because he heard of this case and wouldn't drop it."

Ziva stood from her desk and walked over to Sam. "What is it exactly that you two do that's so impossible for the authorities to do?"

Sam frowned. "Well, with your current unsolvable case?" Ziva nodded. "Have you considered the fact that your suspect isn't normal?"

"Well, yeah." Tony stood up, grinning. "He's a wacko, Sammy."

Sam frowned at Tony. "Don't call me Sammy. You want to know who your suspect is? His name is Benson White. He committed suicide eight days ago. The morning the first victim died. You've had three more since then, right?"

McGee frowned at Sam. "If he committed suicide how is it that you think he's killing everyone?"

"A violent death makes a vengeful spirit. Benson has something to clean up and he's doing that, one body at a time. Let me show you." Sam hacked into McGee's files on the case and put the victims on the plasma. "Each of these victims were assaulted by Benson while he was alive. He was dishonorably discharged and killed himself. He was angry in life and any emotions you have in life multiply when you die."

"Ghosts are real?" Gibbs asked from his desk. "What else do you say is real?" he had a look on his face that told Sam this was going to answer a few of Gibbs' long standing questions.

"Demons, gods, werewolves, shape-shifters, wendigo. I could keep going but it just gets boring." Sam smiled tightly.

Gibbs nodded. "So, a dead guy saving his platoon in a war…that could happen?"

Sam nodded. "It's been known to happen. Some of them don't stay to have vengeance. Some stay to help loved ones or protect someone they feel responsible for."

Gibbs nodded. "I've seen a fair few things that can't be explained. You're saying you know how to stop these murders? That you and your brother do this for a living?"

Sam smiled awkwardly. "Well, we don't get paid for it but it is what we do. I need Dean to finish the job. I've been going over facts and I can't figure it out. Dean's got a different way of looking at things."

Gibbs nodded. "You and your brother will help us with Benson and then what?"

Sam shrugged. "We're generally fairly capable of busting out of places. If we can't get out on our own we won't expect any special favors from you."

"Got a cell phone number for Abby to track?" Sam nodded and Gibbs led him over to the elevator. "She's our forensic scientist and computer person. You'll be working with her and McGee when Ziva, Tony and I collect your brother."

They stepped out of the elevator into a blast of gothic music. Gibbs walked directly to a CD player and switched it off. "Abby?"

A small young woman with black pigtails, platform boots, knee-high socks, a miniskirt and a black tank top appeared from behind a counter. "Gibbs. I told you I'd call you if I found anything from that case." She sounded a little annoyed.

He smiled at her. "Not here for evidence, Abbs. Sam's brother has been kidnapped by the FBI. We're going to collect him and then they are going to help us with our mystery case."

"Got a cell phone number for me to trace?" she smiled excitedly at Sam as she tugged him over to the counter with two computers. "Thank god you're here. I swear this case is like…unsolvable."

Sam shook his head, typing Dean's cell phone number into the computer when Abby told him to. "Not impossible. You just have to have all of the facts and know how to fit them together."

An address popped up on the screen and she had it written down and handed back to Gibbs in an instant. "McGee will be down shortly to help you two with the puzzle. We're going to collect his brother, Abbs."

"Oh, wait Agent Gibbs." Gibbs stopped at the doorway. "If you don't have a message from me Dean won't go with you. Tell him it's not like that vampire and I have more than barbed wire." Gibbs nodded and left. "Can you pull up all of the information you have on this case, please Abby?" Sam asked.

She had just finished spreading the information across all of the screens she had when McGee walked in. "Gibbs said we're working together to figure it out…"

Sam nodded. "Okay, Abby, this may freak you out but I need you to keep an open mind, alright?" She nodded eagerly. "Dean and I are hunters. We hunt down and kill evil things."

A grin spread across her face. "Evil things like what?" McGee pulled a face before focusing on the screens of information.

"This case, for example, is a vengeful spirit. There are more things out there than we've got time to discuss at the moment."

"Wow, ghosts are real." She grinned at McGee as if to say I-told-you-so.

"So, if you know what and who it is what do we need to figure out now?" McGee asked.

"Most important thing is where Benson was buried. Hopefully he was buried. Secondly, we need to figure out his pattern. If we can't find his grave in time we need to know who his next victim will be to protect them."

"Okay, I'll start the search for his gravesite. The computer can run that on its own." Abby went into a second room and returned several minutes later.

"There's another computer in there?" Sam asked. She nodded and stood beside him, staring at the screens of information. "I wish I had access to this much technology."

"So we need to find a pattern in his attacks? Do we know why he's killing people?" McGee asked quietly.

x x x

Dean was tied to a chair, the cut above his eyebrow seeping blood. "Are you going to talk to me, Dean Winchester? Or shall we play some more?" the agent stood in front of Dean, rubbing his knuckles. He'd been beating Dean for an hour on and off. He'd never known anyone to last this long and still smile.

Dean's custom smirk snuck back onto his face, his eyes shining. "Okay, the tooth fairy? She's not real. Neither is Saint Nicholas or the Easter Bunny." The agent punched him again and Dean chuckled.

"Where…is…your…little…brother?" the agent asked slowly. His partner was leaning against a wall, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Which little brother would that be?" Dean asked. He almost had the ropes loose enough that he could slip his hands out. The rope burns were bleeding; for once bleeding was a good thing. It would make his hands nice and slippery.

"The only little brother you have, idiot. Sam Winchester." The partner snapped from the shadows. This guy was starting to annoy him. The beating he'd taken should have had him crying in a corner but he was still making wisecracks.

"Oh, why didn't you say so. Now, let me think…" Dean saw three people walk by the window behind the agents. "Sammy, Sammy, where would you be…? Library, motel, police records, brothel. Oh, wait; leave the brothel out of the list, that ain't likely."

"Dean, if you don't give us answers soon we'll take you back and then you'll get to sit in one big beautiful chair." The first agent yelled.

"Answers. I can give you answers. To kill a werewolf you need a silver bullet to the heart. Shape-shifters are similar, silver through the heart. A vampire has to be decapitated. To get rid of an angry spirit you gotta salt and burn the bones." The agent landed a few blows to his ribs.

The door burst open and three agents stormed in, guns aimed at the two already occupying the room. Dean was standing within moments, he'd slipped the ropes. He held the first agent directly in front of him and took his gun from the holster. "Well, I guess I'm the bone and you guys would all be the dogs, huh?" Dean spoke to the three newcomers. "See, me and Agent Dickenson here were just starting to get along."

"Dean Winchester? Your brother sent us to get you. Seems he didn't want to attack two FBI agents. Sam's a smart boy." The older agent spoke calmly.

Dean took a deep breath. "Did little Sammy give you a message for me?" he asked slowly. He wanted to make sure he wasn't jumping out of the pan and into the fire. If they knew where Sam was the very least he was doing was jumping into another pan.

"He said to tell you it's not like that vampire and he has more than barbed wire. Whatever that might mean…" the second agent spoke calmly.

Dean pushed the FBI agent away from him. "That means that I know Sammy did really talk to you guys. I take it you want this gun? And you're going to arrest me too?" he held the gun out to them by the grip.

The female agent walked up to him and took the pistol. "You are Dean Winchester?" he nodded. "I'm Ziva David, Mossad liaison with NCIS. The younger man is Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, and Senior Field Agent Gibbs."

"Nice to meet you all. Can I get my gear before we leave?" Gibbs nodded and Dean hobbled over to the corner. He picked up a jacket and a duffel bag. Ziva took them from him, checking for weapons. When she handed his coat back he put it on. She started to unzip the bag but Dean shook his head. "The only thing you're going to let me keep out of there is the journal."

Tony watched as she opened the bag fully, his eyes went wide. The bag contained a two sawn off shot guns, two pistols, two knives, wire rope, a journal and two flasks along with a handful of other things. "Why two flasks?" he couldn't help but ask.

Dean took the journal from Ziva and smiled. "One's holy water. The other one is bourbon. Can we go and see Sam now?" he limped until he was within two feet of Gibbs. He saw Tony reaching for handcuffs and held out his arms wearily.

"Tony?" Gibbs waited until Tony looked up at him before shaking his head. "He's not going anywhere. He can't even walk straight let alone get away. Don't worry about the cuffs." Tony frowned in confusion until he saw the rope burn on Dean's wrists.

They were in the car, Dean's door locked, when he spoke again. "So, Sam just walked straight in your front door and said Hey, I know where a guy on the FBI's most wanted list is being beaten, care to steal him?"

Tony turned around in the front passenger seat and grinned. "No, he came in and said he could help us with our current mystery case. That you were trying to help too but got caught by the FBI. Said he'd help if we came and got you."

Ziva was studying him closely. He'd taken more of a beating than most men could stand and he was still joking around. "What did they want to know?"

Dean glanced over at her. "They wanted to know where my brother was." He grinned. "The amount of times they've tried to use us against each other and ended up losing us is unbelievable. You would think that they would think themselves lucky to have caught one of us and leave it at that."

"What were you stalling for?" Gibbs asked, looking at Dean in the rearview mirror.

"I slipped the ropes just before you three came in. At the very least I was going to give Dickenson a good punch in the throat." He shut his eyes and leant back in his seat.

There was silence for fifteen minutes, Ziva thought Dean may have fallen unconscious he looked so relaxed. Suddenly he spoke. "How is it Sammy convinced you that you need our help?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I can't find any evidence and I've seen enough in my life to believe there's more than the explainable. Are you a soldier, Dean?"

He opened one eye to look back at Gibbs in the mirror. "No, I'm not a soldier." He closed his eye again and sighed. "I'm a hunter. How much longer until we get there?"

Gibbs took that as a dare and sped up. Tony grabbed at the dashboard, even Ziva went a little pale from Gibbs' driving. Dean stayed as he was.

After another five minutes they slowed, waiting for a boom gate to lift. Gibbs nodded to the security guard and drove through. "Our medical examiner will give you a once over to make sure you're okay."

Dean shook his head. "I'm fine. Taken more of a beating than that before."

"And before you weren't in my custody. It won't be any trouble for Ducky to check you." Gibbs replied. Dean could tell from the sound of his voice that he had made up his mind and it wasn't going to change.

"Fine. Hey, do you know if Sammy drove here?" Dean asked as the car stopped in a parking lot.

"Yeah, black Impala. God that is an awesome car." Tony spun in his seat again, grinning back at Dean.

"Thanks. Could I collect a clean shirt out of my car?" Gibbs nodded before getting out.

Dean had to wait for Tony to open his door. He jumped out of the car and stood looking around for his car. He spotted the Impala so quickly Tony was impressed. He jogged over to it. "Oh, baby, if Sam hurt you I promise I'll kick his ass."

Gibbs, Ziva and Tony followed Dean and were standing behind him. "Your brother has the keys, we will get your shirt when we find him." Ziva said.

Dean smirked at her over his shoulder and pulled a lock pick out of his back pocket. Within moments he had the door unlocked and a clean shirt out of a bag on the back seat. He pulled his bloodied shirt over his head.

Ziva frowned for a moment and spoke to Tony. "He's almost as bad as you are DiNozzo." Her full attention was immediately pulled back to Dean.

She could see his entire back; it was almost covered in scars. Gibbs could see a burn on his shoulder in the shape of a handprint. He pulled the clean shirt over his head, tossed the old one in his car. He locked the door and spun around, seemingly oblivious to the fact they had all just seen his back covered in scars.

"Alright, I have an appointment with a doctor who normally cuts up dead guys, right?" he grinned. "Oh, he doesn't make a habit of cutting up living people by chance?" Gibbs shook his head and Dean nodded. "Okay, had to check. I met this guy once…anyway, long story."

Tony laughed to cover up how shocked he was by Dean's back. "You seriously met a guy who did autopsies on living people?"

Dean shrugged. "Another guy used to rip people's hearts out of their chest." Everyone was silent until they reached the elevator. "Huh."

Ziva glanced up at him as they stepped into the elevator. "What?"

"Well, I just realized the only people I ever really meet are really sick." He frowned for a moment but shrugged it off. His grin was back in a couple of seconds. "Hey, what sort of things do you guys get to do?"

"Arrest the bad guys, interrogating people is cool." Tony smiled.

"Tony particularly enjoys kicking down doors." Ziva added, watching the numbers on the elevator as they went to Ducky's floor.

"Yeah, the whole research thing sucks, huh?" Dean stepped out of the elevator when it stopped. "So, this is the dead level."

"I prefer it if you respect my guests, Mr Winchester." Ducky said from the entry to the actual autopsy room. "They may no longer be in their bodies but that's no reason to disrespect them."

Dean nodded. "Sorry, doc, my brother will tell you I have a sick sense of humor. Name's Dean."

Ducky nodded. He liked the young man. He had apologized and yet managed to keep his ground by not retracting his comment. "I'm Dr Mallard. Everyone calls me Ducky, including you. Come on in and I'll have a look at you."

Dean followed him into the room and much to Ducky's surprise he laid out on one of the autopsy benches. Most people would flinch away from what Ducky guessed he would call a 'dead bed'.

"No concussion, couple of scrapes and cuts, nice solid bruising," Dean stretched, moving his torso. "Cracked rib, maybe two. My nose didn't even break."

"I'm glad I have your opinion, Dean. I'm not sure that I could have found out what was wrong with you had you not told me already." Ducky chuckled.

"Your welcome." He closed his eyes and waited for Ducky to discover for himself that Dean was actually fine.

x x x

"Sam," Gibbs walked into Abby's lab, followed closely by Tony. Ziva had stayed in autopsy to keep an eye on Dean. "I tend to go by my gut when it comes to people. I figure you're one of those kids who has a hard time breaking the rules or lying. Unfortunately, I can't read your brother. Most people's personality sits still long enough for me to figure them out. He keeps moving all over the place."

Sam nodded. "Dean does everything for the greater good. Which is to say he can quite easily break the law or lie to anyone if he knows it will help. He has a very high sense of duty and morality but those standards don't fit into the normal world. Hell, they don't fit into our world."

Gibbs frowned in thought. "What do you mean his measurements don't fit into your world?"

Sam shrugged. "Let me give you a little background. When he was four he carried me out of a burning house. A demon killed out mother and that's how Dad found out about the war against evil. So, Dad learnt everything he could and started hunting. Used to leave us in a motel room for days at a time and tell Dean to look after me."

"So he lost his mother and took over your welfare in one night when he was four years old? That's gotta cause a head trip." Abby's voice held sympathy.

Sam smiled tightly. "As we grew up Dad trained us how to hunt, shoot, fight. Everything we could ever use in the hunting business. His main target all those years was the demon that got our mum, but he'd kill anything evil in between. We grew up saving people from evil things. That's one of Dean's rules, if he can save someone from anything bad he will. To hunt full time requires some source of income though. Dad taught us how to get credit cards under fake names, Dean can hustle any bar game if he feels like it. He entered himself in a few fights a couple of times when money was tight."

"So, he'll save any human being. And he isn't squeamish about breaking laws." Abby summed it up.

She was watching him on her computer screen as Ducky examined him. Gibbs walked over to her, frowned at the ease Dean seemed to have lying on an autopsy table, and switched the monitor off. Just because he didn't have a handle on Dean yet did not mean they could watch him.

Sam nodded. "He values human lives but human laws? He'll follow them unless they get in the way of hunting."

Gibbs nodded. "Now that you have established that he has a high, if slightly different, sense of morality would you care to tell me how he doesn't fit in your world?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Most hunters are totally alone, it isn't exactly as if you can get married and keep hunting. And the catalyst to begin hunting generally makes them antisocial. None of them would do much for anyone else when it comes to self-sacrifice."

"I take it Dean made some grand self-sacrifice for you and you feel guilty about it?" Tony asked with a cocky smile so much like Dean's in nature it made Sam angry.

"You try having your only brother sell his soul to bring you back to life and retain a clear conscience." Sam snapped. He took a deep breath, glaring at Tony. "My spinal cord was severed and I died. Dean made a pact with a cross-roads demon. His soul for my life. They gave him a year."

Abby's eyes widened. "What happens at the end of that year, Sam?" she hugged Burt, the stuffed hippo, close to her chest.

Sam shook his head. "Been and gone, Abby. So, when you make a deal with a cross-roads demon they can give you anything you desire, in return for your soul. The terms of payment for a normal contract is due ten years after the deal is made. She gave Dean one year."

Tony returned his attention from spinning a box of gloves back to Sam. This was getting interesting. Sam's eyes held so much sadness and guilt it brought Tony back down a little. These two had suffered something.

Sam cleared his throat. "I tried to find a way to break the contract but Dean wouldn't let me, not that I found a way. The demon said if he tried to slip out of the deal in any way I'd be dead again in an instant. So we hunted our asses off. The year was up, payment due and the hellhound dragged him to the Pit."

Gibbs leant forward. "The Pit?" he shook his head, obviously wanting an explanation.

Sam sighed. "The Pit is…what hunters call hell." He shut his eyes for a moment. "He was gone for four months before Cas pulled him back out."

Abby touched Sam's shoulder in sympathy. "Who's Cas?"

"Castiel is an angel. Dean nicknamed him Cas." Sam smiled. "Trying to piss him off."

"So, assuming there is actually a hell, he was there for four months. What's so bad about that? He's back now…" Tony asked.

Sam shook his head. "You don't understand. It was four months here. I asked one of our friends and he said four months here is roughly equal to forty years in the Pit."

Gibbs stared at the young man before him. "What exactly do they do down there?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Dean won't tell me. But every now and then his eyes go all hollow, like he's not in there. And he barely sleeps anymore."

"What's so impressive about that? I mean, Gibbs was in a war, Ziva grew up training to be an assassin." Tony asked from a corner.

Gibbs looked at Tony. "Courage in battle is different to self-sacrifice in a calm mood. He had time to think of everything that might happen. In battle you only have time to react. And you have a timeframe in war, Tony, he was staring down eternity. Dean showed more courage by making that one decision than most people ever use in their entire lives. No matter how dangerous those lives might be."

Abby smiled happily at Gibbs. She didn't know how or why but she liked Dean. The fact that Gibbs was defending him pleased her. Dean walked into the lab without even a hint of a pain on his face, followed closely by Ziva and Ducky. The blood had been cleaned away and the cuts disinfected. His wrists were wrapped in bandages.

Tony shouldered off the wall and looked him up and down. "So, Dean, I hear you've been to hell."

Dean ignored him, eyeing Sam for a moment before speaking. "What have you got Sammy?"

"Well, these computers are much better and I didn't have to actually hack systems so it's way quicker." Dean lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, this Marine went through all different areas on this base before being dishonorably discharged. He committed suicide a few days later."

Dean rubbed the back of his head. "Well, that'd work. Know why he was discharged?"

Abby nodded. "He was assaulting people. Fighting with the men, sexual advances on the women."

Dean nodded. "And the people who've been dropping? Are they the ones who reported him or the ones he assaulted?"

"Both." Sam answered, watching his brother closely. Dean didn't do well working with authorities. And everyone in the room seemed to not like his terminology for death.

Dean started pacing. "Pattern, there's always a pattern." He started fiddling with a pen he'd picked up off Abby's desk. "Is it sexual and fighting or only one so far?" he asked, continuing to pace.

"Both, and it's also people he attacked and the people who reported him. Dean, I've been staring at this for hours and I can't find the pattern." Sam spoke softly.

Dean shook his head. "Two sets of eyes, Sammy, two sets of eyes." He tossed the biro to Sam.

Ziva leant a little closer to Sam. "Does he always pace when he's thinking?"

Sam glanced down at her. "Normally he's cleaning guns or throwing knives while he's thinking. The other thing is eating but even then he'll pace."

"Both rats and victims, both kinds of assault." He clicked his fingers several times. "Not going in any particular time order? First attack first kill or anything like that, is he?" Sam shook his head.

Palmer walked in with a tray of coffee and a Caf-Pow. Everyone went over to him but Dean. He continued pacing. Palmer handed the coffees out according to who drank what. Sam handed one to Dean. He took a swig and pulled a face. "Give me my damn coffee, Sam. Wash the taste of that pretty junk out of my mouth."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. The coffee Dean took from his brother was the same strength as his own. The only other people he'd ever met who could drink coffee like him were other Marines.

After he'd taken a few swigs of his own coffee he shook his head at Sam. "Don't know how you drink that weak-ass stuff Sammy."

Everyone was staring at Dean; he ignored them and went back to pacing. Sam had to know why they were staring at his brother like he'd grown an extra head.

Tony smirked. "Coffee that strong would eat the bottom out of a stainless steel sink. Only Gibbs can drink that stuff."

"Apart from myself the only people I've ever met who drink it like me are other Marines. You said you weren't any kind of soldier, Dean." Gibbs watched Dean closely.

He shook his head. "Would the fact that our Dad was a Marine count toward my drinking habits?" he asked sarcastically.

"Your father was a Marine? What was his name, maybe I heard of him…" he watched the brothers stare at each other for a moment. Seeming to communicate. Dean obviously telling Sam to keep his mouth shut.

"John Winchester went AWOL after his wife died in a house fire. Declared mentally unstable due to his mumblings about how his wife died and what rather than who killed her. He disappeared soon after the fire with their two sons Dean and Sam." McGee spoke quickly, reading from a file as he entered the room. He looked up and noticed the brothers.

Dean smiled tensely at the young agent and spoke as if reciting something. "He was spotted a few times over the last twenty odd years only to disappear again. He's a real mongrel. Never treated his two boys right. Severe neglect and brainwashing. What else does that little file tell you?"

McGee stared at Dean, obviously worried. "I just find the files and give them to Gibbs…"

Dean glared at the file in McGee's hands. "He was a good man. He wasn't crazy. And he raised us as best he could. Taught us everything he knew."

Sam's eyes went wide when he saw the two files underneath their father's. "Dean, he's got our files too."

"Don't worry Sammy; yours says aiding and abetting, more or less." Dean smiled at his brother and returned to his pacing, he'd obviously redirected his thoughts back to the case at hand.

Tony took Dean's file from McGee. "Dean Winchester. Credit card fraud,"

"Our job doesn't pay very well, okay?" Sam defended quickly.

"Grave desecration." Tony looked up at Sam to see what defense he'd have for that.

"Yeah, if this bastard wasn't cremated you can add another grave desecration to the list after this job." Dean muttered, continuing to pace.

Tony looked confused. "It's how you get rid of an angry spirit. Salt and burn the bones. And that usually requires digging up their graves." Sam answered the unspoken question.

"Torture."

"Wasn't me."

"Bank robbery."

"Okay, I was actually there for that one but we weren't robbing the place we were trying to kill a shape-shifter who was trying to rob the place." Dean answered.

"Several murders of the first degree." Tony looked up at Dean. He had him pinned for several things but murder wasn't really one of them.

"I've never murdered a human being. Oh," he looked over to Gibbs. "Can I make a phone call?"

Gibbs nodded. "On speaker, please." Abby showed him to her phone. After a couple of rings it answered.

"What in the hell do you want?"

"Bobby, it's Dean. Me and Sam are captured. NCIS Headquarters, DC. Standard fed phone call dance once we hang up, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Dean glanced at the computer Abby was working on and saw she was trying to trace Bobby's phone.

"You're on speaker too. Listen, you remember that box I gave you a couple of years ago?"

"Of course I remember it. Don't often forget it when a Winchester gives you something to either hold until they call with instructions or give to Sam if they're dead."

"Well, it's only a matter of time before the FBI shows up for our scalps. It's harder to disappear in DC than other places. Listen, if Sam calls you later I need you to organize for the best lawyer you can find. He'll need it. There's enough money in that box for a damn good defense. If not I want you to sell the Impala and anything else we've got if you need to. I don't care if he's dirt poor when he walks as long as he walks."

"What about you Dean? You'll need ten miracles at least if you're going to get out of it…"

"Exactly why we're focusing on Sam. I know when there's no chance, Bobby. And there's no chance a jury will let me off."

"Damn it, why are you always doing this? No way am I going to let them lock up a hunter as good as you, son. No way."

"Sam's the brains, I'm the muscle. There's plenty more muscle out there Bobby. Not many of us know as much as Sammy. Listen, Abby's nearly hacked your scrambler so…see ya."

"If your old man was still alive…" there was sadness in Bobby's voice.

"But he's not. He brought me back and I promised him one thing." Dean hung up and grinned at Abby when he realized she hadn't been able to crack Bobby's scrambler in time.

Sam was glaring at his brother and everyone else in the room was staring at them. "Come on, Dean. How many times do you get to play that card? You already died once for me, doesn't that make it up to dad? He pulled you back from one death but you've died since then. Doesn't that clean the slate?"

"I'm gonna play this card until you die of natural causes in the ripe old age of 95, and even then I might reconsider." Dean smirked. "Besides; my money, my car, my rules."

"You'd walk straight into a prison cell without a fight if you knew Sam had a chance of walking free?" Tony asked, he couldn't believe it.

Dean went back to pacing. Abby watched him, worried. "Most of those crimes that they're accusing you of are so violent no jury will ever think twice…"

He stopped pacing. "Sam?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"The pattern. Are they happening by the category of the violence in the original attacks? You know, rape before groping. Blood spilled in a fight before a love-tap? I'd be guessing sexual assault trumps a fight, too."

Sam went through the computer files for a moment before he looked up at his brother. "Umm, yeah. Next victim in his new order is…Private Shauna Jeffries. Abby, have you found out where he's buried yet?"

She shook her head. "The computer's running it." She frowned and looked over to Gibbs. "Why do they always hide the bodies of the bad guys?"

"Just to make our jobs twice as friggin' hard, that's why. Wish they'd make a 'Violent Deaths' cemetery." Dean mumbled. "Alright, Sammy you gotta go with whoever's protecting the girl. Someone there has to know how to fight a spirit. Once we have an address for this guy I'll make a house call." Gibbs was watching Dean closely. The ease with which the young man organized everything was astonishing.

"Why are you not fighting to go guard the lady? Thought you'd love women." Tony asked Dean.

He shook his head. "I don't do traumatized anyone let alone traumatized females. Apparently, sensitivity is key. Sam can cry on cue, he gets emotional people duty."

Gibbs shouldered away from the wall and caught everyone's attention. "Tony and McGee, you're going with Sam. Ziva, you'll be with Dean and myself."

"Can I have that bag back now?" Dean asked, watching Gibbs. "Got a couple of sawn of shot-guns in there and plenty of rock salt shells to go around.

Gibbs nodded to Ziva and she handed the bag to Dean. He pulled out one sawn off and tossed it to Sam. He caught it with one hand and checked it was loaded. The second one Dean tossed to Gibbs.

"Alright, angry spirit 101. Salt repels them. Make a circle on the ground out of the stuff and they can't cross it. Shoot them with a rock salt round and they'll disperse, only for a while. Iron also works." He flipped a knife so that he was holding the blade and handed it to Ziva. "Agent David, I figure you're good with a knife. The blade is made of iron."

"Tony, McGee and Sam, on your way. We'll leave as soon as we know where he's buried and Abby will call you." The three walked out of the lab as Gibbs spoke.

"Oh, shit." Dean rummaged around in the bag again. "Abby, once we leave I'm gonna need you to stay inside a circle of salt. It's very rare that a spirit can actually track back to the person helping but it has been known to happen."

Abby nodded. "What happens if he finds me?"

Dean smiled. "If you're in the circle and it's solid, nothing. If you go outside of the circle…anything within his capability. Generally when they realize someone's about to torch their corpse they get pissed."

Gibbs frowned. "You said that you have to salt and burn the bones?" Dean nodded. "There won't be any bones yet. He hasn't been buried that long…"

He nodded. "I suggest you put some vix under your nose if the smell is going to be a problem. Generally we deal with bones, but actually it's salt and burn the remains."

x x x

The salt and burn went reasonably smoothly, considering the Winchesters were surrounded by rookies of the supernatural. Gibbs informed Dean that seeing as he escaped from the FBI (no transfer papers had been signed) that he wasn't in custody of NCIS, so he didn't even have to escape.

They got into the Impala and got out of town as fast as they could, knowing that the FBI would be sore about losing Dean (again) and that they'd be after the brothers with a vengeance.

Abby had hacked Sam's laptop and loaded an instant messaging program so that she could stay in touch with them, refusing to let information about the supernatural just waltz out of her life.