Okay, here it is part two. It took me a while, but I got this, bro. Remember, reviews are love and (I'm gonna channel my inner classic rock goddess) I'M ALL OUT OF LOVE, I'M SO LOST WITHOUT YOU. *cough cough* Anyway, onto the story.

Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.

Enjoy.

Three months, that's how long it's been. She usually sees him about once a month. She can see him as if he's standing right beside her. Light brown-or perhaps dirty blond, however you wish to look at it-hair, cropped short; bright green eyes that followed every little movement around them; a warm smile that was usually hidden from the rest of the world, covered instead by a cocky grin. His tall, 6'1" or 6'2" frame covered in hard-earned muscle. He was a man who had only asked for one thing from her; privacy. He had asked her never to look for him. He told her that he knew she was more than capable, but he didn't want her to see what everyone else saw. He wanted her to remember him as she had known him.

She hadn't looked. She had kept her promise just like he had kept the promise that she had never heard him make. She respected that tough, angry at the world, young man enough that she had never gone back on her word. Of course she had wanted to know who he was, but she hadn't looked. As it turned out, she hadn't needed to. There were bank shootings. His face was captured clearly on camera as one of the shooters. No one doubted that he had killed all those people.

Abby doubted. She refused to believe that she was friends with that psychopathic killer on the news. No, the man that she had befriended was kind and compassionate and self-sacrificing. She knew him to be a sweet and caring man. He had a tough guy act that she saw right through. He covered his emotions with a cocky smile and attitude, and he pushed away his emotions because he had no sense of self-worth. The attitude was a mask, one that protected him from the world around him.

The man on the tapes was a sociopath, while the man she remembered was clearly not.

OVER A YEAR AGO

She looked at the picture on her desk. She has her eyes closed and she's sticking her tongue out with a smile, while the man standing beside her is laughing at her expression, his bright green eyes watching her and sparkling in the afternoon sun. He's happy here. His wide, mischievous, grin is accented by dazzling white teeth. His face is tan and youthful. The man in this picture looks nothing like the crazed angry man in the video.

"Abby?" A gentle voice speaks behind her.

"Hmm?" She spun around looking slightly alarmed. Tony Dinozzo was looking at her with a concerned expression.

"I'm okay." She said, answering his unspoken question.

"You were staring at the picture again." He pointed out. Tony knew she didn't think he was a killer. He actually didn't think the man was killer himself. In fact, none of their close-knit tem thought that the man in the picture was a killer. Tony especially had become fast friends with him-although the man might use the term "acquaintances" because if he had friends he would have ties to a place and he couldn't have that. Tony thought that they were both a lot alike; they both cracked cheesy jokes and made movie references. Tony had also fallen in love with the man's car-a '67 Chevy Impala.

"He didn't do it." Abby said. "I know it wasn't him."

"I know Abbs, he didn't seem like a killer to me either."

"I promised him I wouldn't look for him." She sighed. "How am I supposed to prove him innocent if I can't even look for him?" She asked rhetorically.

"I can look for him." Abby looked up at him, his light brown hair falling forward into his chocolate colored eyes. She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you so much, Tony!" She gave him a brief set of instructions for her machines and went to get some coffee. He sat down at one of the many computers and started typing all the information that he knew about their young friend.

NAME: Dean Winchester

AGE: 25-30 (He didn't know Dean's exact age.)

PLACE OF BIRTH: Lawrence, Kansas

He knew precious little about the man, but felt like he understood him like a brother. The man had had a tough life and Tony could sympathize, even if Deans had undoubtedly been harder.

A lot of the information that Tony got about Dean was about the robberies and subsequent murders that he and his brother were accused of. Other information talked about how the brothers couldn't seem to stay dead. Tony gave up on ever finding anything good about them on the internet. Tony suddenly remembered a night a long time ago.

The man sitting across from him had a wide mischievous grin. His daring green eyes absorbed every movement around them. His posture was relaxed, but Tony knew he was ready to run at any moment.

"Are you ever gonna tell me your real name?" Tony asked.

"It's altogether possible." The man laughed.
"Come on! We caught a serial killer together!"

"James," The man grinned. "James Dean."
"Liar." Tony growled.

"Absolutely," The man smiled. He tipped the rest of his Jack Daniels into his mouth and stood up. "And I'll never be anything else because this is too damn fun." He patted Tony's shoulder and walked away, leaving Tony alone at the bar.

Outside of his apartment, Tony realized that his cell phone was missing. He figured he'd call it from his home phone to find out where it was. As soon as he got inside, he saw it sitting on his counter. Tony shivered, and not from being cold. He had had it at work earlier that day and there was a note sitting beside it.

Tony,

You might wanna keep this somewhere safe. You never know who's a pickpocket these days.

The note wasn't signed, but the fear he'd been feeling had disappeared. Tony knew he didn't have anything to worry about but he took a quick scan through the phone just in case. He found a text message from someone in his contacts as James Dean: "For emergencies."

Tony grinned to himself.

Tony had never told anyone that he had the ability to contact Dean, because it could have been a way to find him. Now, though, Tony needed to find him. So he did what he'd never done before.

He called a serial killer.

It rang. And rang. And rang again. Tony was about to give up, thinking that no one would ever answer when a voice came through the phone.

"H'lo?" A voice slurred with sleep and deepened with anguish answered the phone.

"Dean?" Tony asked.
"Who wants ta know?" The voice demanded. His heavy Kansas accent sharpened, sleepiness forgotten.

"Dinozzo." Tony said, grinning. He could almost hear the man relaxing.

"You miserable son of a bitch. You better not have woken me up just to say hi." He growled.

"Nah, Abby wants to prove your innocence and won't rest until she does. She's been frustrated with that because she's trying to keep the promise she made."

"Tell her she can break it." Dean laughed. "And if it's about the bank thing, I was in Illinois committing credit card fraud."

"Should you really be telling me that?" Tony laughed.

"You'll never catch up to me anyway." Dean laughed. "Besides, it beats going down for multiple murders. Names on the cards were-" He paused for a second. "Nate Dillow and Josh Pike."

"So, credit card fraud." Tony whistled.

"The job doesn't exactly pay cash." He said. "Or, anything for that matter."

"Abby's probably gonna call you."

"Yeah, it's okay." He laughed.

They hung up and Abby had, in fact, called. She talked with him a lot; whenever she was sad or in need of cheering up and even Tony couldn't help. Dean just had a way of making her feel better. Even though she hadn't broken her promise no matter what he said, she didn't feel anything bad about calling.

PRESENT DAY

But that was a while ago, and it had three months since she'd seen even a glimpse of him. She was worried now. Tony called a few hours after she had left her lab to say that he wasn't really as good at this as she was and hadn't found anything. She made her way up to Gibbs' desk and the older man looked up.

"What's going on Abbs?" He asked, picking up on her distress.

"It's been three months." She said, crossing her arms. Gibbs knew what she was talking about because she had told him everything. He had also agreed with her that Dean wasn't a killer.

"Have you tried calling him?" He asked.

"Yes. He won't answer."
"Keep calling until he does." Gibbs said gently. She went back down to her lab. Tony was gone, now but couldn't be too terribly far away. She picked up her phone and looked through it until she got to the contact labeled James Dean.

"Hello?" A gruff voice answered the phone on the second ring.
"Who is this?" Abby asked. It definitely wasn't Dean.

"I was gonna ask that m'self." The voice growled. "And I was also gonna ask why you keep calling."

"I need to speak to Dean." She said. "I need to make sure he's alright."

"What's your name?" The man asked, slightly gentler.

"I'm not in the phone?" She asked surprised.

"You're listed as Black Sabbath." He said.

"I do like Black Sabbath." She grinned. "But my name is Abby. And are you going to tell me yours?"

"Bobby." He said shortly.

"So, can I talk to him?"

"No." She thought she heard pain in his voice as he said the monosyllable word.

"Why not?" She asked hesitantly.

"Because he's dead. Been dead for about three months now." Bobby said, seemingly holding in a sob as he said it.

"What?" She choked, half sobbing already.

"He's gone sweetheart. I'm sorry." His voice was low and gentle now.

"How? How did it happen?" She asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told ya."
"Try me." She said, determined to get some answers.

"Hell hounds dragged his soul down to Hell after he made a deal to save his brother's life." He said. "They made his used him for a chew toy and ripped him wide open." Bobby seemed to have braced himself to say that. It hurt him, she realized. He was obviously close to Dean.

"Are you his father?" She asked. She didn't know if she believed the Hell hounds part, but she was always open minded.
"No," he gave a short bitter laugh. "But I might as well be. His daddy's dead, too. He made a deal and agreed to die a while ago so that Dean wouldn't get taken by a reaper, and then Dean made a deal so that Sam wouldn't have died. Damn Winchesters." She could swear she heard a sob on the other end. "Nah, I'm just the guy who picks up the pieces, and shoulda realized what Dean was thinkin'. Sam and Dean might as well be my boys because I tried to give 'em everythin' kids should have. They didn't have normal childhoods although Dean tried his hardest to give Sam as close to one as he could. Dean especially never got ta be a kid. And God knows I loved them like they were my own." Bobby paused for a second.

"But see, their dad didn't raise Dean as a son so much as a soldier. He treated him cold and ordered him around. Dean always tried to please him in hopes that he'd get somethin' like a 'good job, Dean' or an 'I'm proud of you' from his dad. I don't believe he ever got it. Whenever John would drop them off with me, I'd always tell him he did a good job and he would look at me like no one ever told him that." Bobby took another breath and she heard him sigh.

"He lived for Sammy though. He followed his daddy's orders, but everythin' he did he did for Sam. See he was convinced that Sam was the only person in the entire world that loved him when he was real little. Dean did everythin' he could to get Sam to college and out of this job. He'd never do anythin' for himself, mind you, it was always for Sam. If Sam mentioned anything about being hungry, Dean would give him his food and not eat if it meant Sam was happy."

"He really loved Sam."

"Sam was all he had." Bobby sighed. "Or at least, all he thought he had."
"Can you tell me where Dean is buried? I want- I want to say goodbye." Bobby told her, understanding that she needed closure.

"He changed your life didn't he?" Bobby asked.
"He was always willing to talk with me if I needed him to." She said.

"He never did realize just how important he was."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"He had it drilled into his head at such a young age that he was nothin' in comparison to Sam. His dad always said 'look after Sammy.' Not 'look after Sammy and yourself.' He was raised a soldier. Dean is broken, and has been for a long time. After Sam left, his hear broke. It was like givin' everythin' to your son and havin' him spit in your face and walk away. And to make matters worse, John started drinkin' even more than before. He got mad all the time and took it out on Dean, and I don't think the boy ever really recovered from it. But Dean never complained. He took it all and just went with it. He let his dad get everythin' out of his system and then he'd say 'Are we done?' and move on. Dean was the kinda guy that would give ya the shirt of his back even if it was the only shirt he had. He was the most selfless person I've ever met, and I could have been more proud of the man he became. He led with his heart and didn't give a damn about himself. John used to call him a disappointment, one thing to call him that would actually hurt the boy, but he wasn't. He never once disappointed me. The real disappointment of the family was John. He was never there for Dean but if he said come Dean was there in an instant. Dean was far from perfect, but, if there was ever an angel on earth, it was Dean Winchester."

"So how do you know he went to Hell?" She asked. "If he was such a good person, wouldn't he have gone to Heaven?"

"I already said the hell hounds dragged him down, didn't I?" Bobby said. "Besides, if ya make a deal with a demon, ya go to Hell regardless of how good a person ya are." He sighed. "I got another call comin' in, you take care, and if ya ever need somethin', you call me and I'll take care of it. It's the least I can do for Dean." Bobby said. He hung up and Abby sat there for a minute wondering what to do. She decided to walk back up to Gibbs. The rest of the team had joined him and grew silent as they caught sight of the shell shocked woman. Gibbs had clearly filled them in because McGee asked her if she found Dean yet.

"Is he alright?" He asked, taking note of her expression.

"He's dead." She choked out.

"What?" Ziva asked.

"He died three months ago." She sobbed. Gibbs hugged her close.

"But, he's 'died' before, right?" Tony asked hopefully. "Maybe it's another trick to get people off their tails!"

"This time it isn't. A friend of his buried him. He told me where it was." She shook her head.

A month later, Abby found herself standing in a clearing, and looking at a hastily made wooden cross.

"Dean, I don't know if you're listening or if you can hear me, but I hope you can. I miss you. I know it took me a while to get out her, but I needed to be able to get through telling you this without having to walk away. I'm sorry it took me this long, but I really needed you to hear this. I never thanked you for watching out for me. As much as we talked and as much as I saw you keeping an eye out, I never thanked you. I really hope you aren't in Hell like Bobby said. You're a good person and you don't deserve that." She was silent for a minute. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry. I miss you so much." She said, tears sliding down her cheeks with abandon.

"You don't have to be sorry." A deep voice said from behind her. Her eyes widened and she spun around. The figure standing behind her had a tanned face, light brown/dark blond hair, and a chiseled body. He was tall and athletic and had slight bowlegs. He walked forward until he stood directly in front of her. She froze.

"I knew exactly what I was doin'." He said, his western accent flooding her ears. She looked into his eyes, deep forest-green pools of light and compassion, and her knees buckled. Two strong arms wrapped around her and kept her from falling on the ground. The arms encircled her waist and supported he weight. She was close enough to know that he smelled of motor oil, whiskey, gun smoke, and leather.

"Dean?" She asked softly. The man grinned.

"It's really me, sweetheart."

"But – but you d-died!" She stammered.

"It's a long story." He sighed.
"I've got time." She shot back, gaining her senses again as the shock of speaking to a dead man faded.

"I went to Hell." He said casually.
"I heard that part already."

"An angel pulled me up."

"Didn't hear that part." She said, her eyes going wide. Dean seemed to realize he was still holding her waist and his grip on her slackened slightly.

"You okay to stand?" He asked her.

"Yeah, I should be fine." She nodded. He let her go and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. She immediately missed the support and warmth his arms had offered.

"Thank you." She said.

"Don't worry about it." He shrugged, emerald green eyes looking up at the sky.

"I mean for protecting me, keeping me safe." She said, putting her hand on his shoulder. He turned those bright green orbs on her before shrugging again.

"It was nothing." He said.

"You want me to keep you living a secret." She stated it more than asked.

"How can you tell?" He asked.

"The way you're holding yourself. You wanted to ask something painful."

"Yeah." A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I just – I don't think people will respond well to a psycho serial killer rising from the grave. Again." He joked.

"Can I tell my team?" She asked.

"Sure, why not. They probably won't believe it." He shrugged.

"We'll help you if you need anything." She said, ignoring his last comment. "And I'm pretty sure I can convince them that you aren't dead."
"Really?" He asked skeptically. "How?"

"With this!" She pulled out her cell phone and hit a number on her speed dial. Gibbs answered on the third ring just as Abby was shushing Dean's protests. She put the phone on speaker.

"Gibbs."

"Gibbs, get to my lab with the rest of the team." Abby said. Dean raised an eyebrow at her ordering the former marine, but he said nothing.

"We're in the morgue, that good enough?"

"Lock all the doors." She said. Dean chuckled at the mental image of her at work ordering Gibbs around. They heard him tell tony to do so.

"Done, now what's going on." It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

"Put the phone on speaker."
"Abby what's this about?" Tony's voice drifted through the phone.
"What you are about to hear will shock you and shake you to your very core." She said in an overly dramatic voice.

"Abby-" McGee's impatient voice spoke up.

"Just tell us already!" Tony said.

"Shaddup, Dinozzo. Learn to have a little patience. The lady's tryna talk." Dean growled. Abby had to put a hand over her mouth to keep in her laughter at the stunned silence on the other end.

"How did you do that, Abby?" Ziva asked.

"Do what?" Abby asked innocently.

"Make it sound like Dean Winchester was speaking." McGee said.

"What, McScaredypants, are you scared of ghosts or something?" Dean asked, his voice teasing. They heard Tony laughing on the other end.

"Abby, Dean is dead." McGee said.

"Now you might wanna be a little more careful of how you proceed with that." Dean said. "Cause I'm standing right here and I might take offence to that."

"Abby, enough. Whatever you're doing, stop it." Gibbs said gently.
"Hold on." She turned the phone around and took a picture of the two of them and sent it to Gibbs' phone.

"And we're flying back to DC tonight." She said.

"We are?" Dean asked. Abby missed the slight note of fear in his voice.
"Yes, we are." She replied with finality.

"Okay." Dean and Tony chorused. The two men laughed.

"Two peas in a pod." Abby said in a sing song voice.

"It happens." Dean laughed again.

"Bye guys!" She said, hanging up before they could respond. She turned to Dean.
"Where's your car?"

"This way." He smiled, jerking his head to the left. They walked through the trees for a minute before reaching a small dirt road. Hidden off the side of the road was the sleek black body of a '67 Chevy Impala. (A/N: I'm going to just say that Cas told Dean that she was here so he poofed Dean and baby to there, so if you were wondering how he had her when Dean didn't get baby back until after he found Sam, that's how. And for all intents and purposes, Sam is at Bobby's tracking down some hunts.)

"She looks exactly the same." Abby said, letting a breath of admiration out.

"She's my baby." He shrugged, as if that explained everything. And she really was. The old car had been Dean's since his first ride in it on the way home from the hospital. Whenever he couldn't sleep, before his mom died, his dad would take him for a ride and Dean would sink into the familiar leather and be out like a light. When Dean had turned sixteen, his dad had given him the Impala. Even though he treated his boys cold and had little to no clue how to love them, he could see how much Dean loved that car. He realized how important it was to him. She had been the only constant in his life, apart from Sam, that he knew would always be there when he needed her.

"There's just one thing you need to know about me." He said, leaning on the roof of the car.

"And what's that?" She asked.

"I don't fly." He said.

"Why not?"

"Cause then I'd have to leave Baby behind." He said simply.

"You're scared of flying." She laughed.

"I am not! I just – I – I just don't like it!" He protested.

"Whatever gets you through the day, big guy." Abby laughed. She hopped into the passenger seat as he slid in behind the wheel. He started her engine and the car came to life with a loud rumble. As Dean pulled her onto the road, the engine seemed to purr just for him. She looked at him once they got going and saw a grin on his face like it was nobody's business. She saw that it was just a single moment of freedom that made him happy. Just knowing that he was on the road with his car and some company without a huge weight on his shoulders, if only for a moment. It really was all about the small things in life. She closed her eyes and let the gentle growl of the engine and the roar of ACDC lull her to sleep.

She woke up with a leather jacket thrown around her shoulders. It smelled of gun smoke and whiskey. She looked towards Dean, but he wasn't there. It was dark out, so she pulled out her phone and checked the time: 10:35. The driver's side door opened and Dean plopped down onto the worn leather he called home. She smelled the warm delicious scent of caffeine. He handed her a cup.

"You're awake, good." He smiled. "Got us breakfast." He handed her a foil wrapped package.

"What is it?" She asked, a little hesitant.
"Cheeseburger." He shrugged.

"Do you eat like this all the time?" She asked.

"Yeah, but don't worry, my job'll kill me long before my eating habits do."

"So, Bobby mentioned Hell hounds and demons, and you told me about angels. What else is out there?" She asked, munching on the burger. Dean swallowed his bite before answering.

"What isn't out there?" He asked sarcastically. "Vampires, werewolves, shape shifters, ghosts, witches, poltergeists, and the list goes on and on and on. You name it, it's probably out there." He gave a bitter laugh. "And all of 'em, or most of 'em anyway, want to kill humans or use them until they can't be used anymore."

"And you –"

"Hunt 'em." He nodded. "Killin' things, savin' people, the family business."

"Wow."

"Mhm. Just keep salt, iron, and holy water nearby." He said. "They're the best general defenses."

"That's it?"

"Shotgun with rock salt shells and a silver knife couldn't hurt."

"Got it." She nodded. "So, those bank shootings…"

"Shape shifters. I already told Tony that Sam and I were in Illinois committing credit card fraud when they started. We headed after them soon after."

"I can prove that." She said.

"I'll call you if I need you to." Dean nodded, bringing the engine back to life. He pulled out of the parking lot and they were off again.

"We still have a couple more hours if you wanna catch some more sleep." He said.

"Nah, I'll stay up for a while." She shrugged. "So where are we anyway?"

"Ohio." He said.
"Do you want me to drive?"

"I'm not tired." He shook his head.

"That's not true." She said, seeing through him.

"Alright, alright, fine. This is just – it's normal for me. It feels like…home." He said. "This is what I'm used to but haven't had the opportunity for since I got back. I'm used to driving from one side of the country to the other and I need it at this point. I've been doing this my entire life and it's the only thing I know I can do without having to worry about messing up." His expression didn't change during the entire revelation.

"Makes sense I guess." She said softly, realizing that his cocky smile and attitude were a mask for all the feelings he had because if he showed weakness or hesitation, he could slip up and end up dead or in jail. She reached over to fiddle with the radio, but he tapped her hand away. But he tapped her hand away.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." The saying rolled off of his tongue without his brain having processed it.

"I'm guessing whoever rides shotgun tries to change the music a lot." She said.

"Sammy, my little brother." Dean grinned. "He always tries to tell me that I need to listen to newer music."

"Good thing you don't listen to him." Abby commented.

"Sammy doesn't understand it." Dean's smile turned bittersweet. "He doesn't understand that it wasn't just Dad who listened to this music; Mom used to love it too. I can remember her spinning me around the room to Metallica." Dean paused. "But Sam just remembers Dad listening to it and he and Dad didn't get along the best. He doesn't remember Mom." He shook his head as if to clear it. "The music is my way of holding onto her, but I never told Sammy that."

"How old were you?" She asked.

"Four." He said. "Sammy was six months old."

"You must miss her." She put her left hand on his right shoulder. He smiled sadly.

"I miss her every day, but if she'd lived, a lot of other people would have died. Everyone Sammy and I saved; everyone Dad saved wouldn't have been saved. We don't get to be happy, 'cause if we did, other people's lives would be falling apart."

"You sound sure of that."

"I am. I saw an alternate reality where Mom didn't die and we were happy." He took a deep breath. "But there was this plane crash, one that Sammy and I stopped." He shook his head. "All those people died. Everyone we ever saved died."

"How did your mom die?" She asked gently.

"A demon killed her." He said. "That's why dad started hunting. That's why he raised me to be a hunter. It's also why I tried to raise Sammy like a normal kid, or at least as normal as possible."

"So it was all about revenge." She said.
"Yeah, but I put that evil son of a bitch in the ground. He's never coming back." Dean allowed a little smile at that thought.

"So why do you still hunt?" She asked.

"Cause I'm good at it." He shrugged. "'Sides, I'm no good at the apple pie life."

"You feel like it's your responsibility." She inferred.

"I guess." He sighed. She yawned.

"Get some sleep. It'll be harder once the sun comes up." He said softly, smiling as she pulled his jacket tighter around herself. He pushed a Metallica tape into the deck and pressed play. Abby drifted off to the soothing sounds of "Enter Sandman".

"Abby." Someone was calling her name.

"Abby, wake up." She was warm and comfortable. She didn't want to wake up.

"Abby, we're in DC and I need you to tell me where I'm going." The voice of the man speaking to her was low and rumbly and colored with amusement. She sighed and stretched a little in the front seat. She looked outside for a second before giving Dean some instructions. She flipped down the visor and fixed her makeup in the mirror. They pulled up to her apartment within minutes.

"I think there's food somewhere in her if you're hungry." She said, once they were inside, gesturing to the kitchen. "I just have to change clothes first." She slipped into her bedroom to change. Dean took a look around as she did. He pulled a sharpie from a cup on her coffee table and drew a couple of protective sigils around her doorway. One for vampires, one for werewolves, and a few for various types of demons.

"What are those?" She asked, causing him to jump with surprise. He spun around and saw her grinning at him.

"Protection." He said. "They won't stop everything, but the will help out." He muttered a little Latin to activate them and then looked back to her.

"Oh, thanks!" She grinned. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, you think they are?" He chuckled.

"Probably not." She laughed. She picked up her cell phone and called Gibbs. He answered on the third ring.

"Gibbs."

"We're home!" She said. "We're gonna drive over to the restaurant where we first met and we'll meet you guys there!" She said. "See you in fifteen!"

"Abby –" Gibbs started.

"Bye Gibbs!" She said and then she hung up. "Let's go!" She grinned. He snickered and pulled out his keys.

When they got to the restaurant, the rest of her team was already waiting. They were sitting at the table, the same table they had been sitting at since first meeting Dean. When Abby and Dean walked up, Gibbs had to remind himself not to immediately pull out his gun. The table went silent as they took in the newcomer. It had been years since they had last seen this young man. Last time he had looked older than he was while still retaining an air of youth. Now, he just looked like he'd seen the worst side of humanity and had aged far beyond his nearly thirty years.
"Dean." Gibbs said. The younger man looked at him. His forest green eyes, bright and full of life before, were now dull and tired. These past years had obviously been hard on him. He still had that cocky grin and that confidant attitude, but there was an underlying weariness about him.

"Yes, sir?" He asked. The 'sir' had just rolled off of his tongue the second that Marine voice hit his ears. Physically, he didn't look too different from the last time they'd seen him; leather jacket, worn blue jeans, motorcycle boots, ACDC shirt, and a peculiar amulet around his neck. He was still muscular and just as ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble, but there was something weighing down on his shoulders that seemed to drag him down.

"Sit down, son." The 'son' had rolled off Gibbs' tongue just as easily as the 'sir' had rolled off of Dean's. There was something about him that made Gibbs feel like a father again, not unlike how he felt with Tony most of the time. Dean sat down and Abby sat beside him. She gave a little shiver as a breeze picked up and Dean soundlessly offered her his jacket, which she accepted gratefully. She slipped the heavy material overtop of her fishnet shirt. The cool breeze ruffled his dark blond hair a little bit.

"I bet the breeze feels good to you." She said, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

"Hmm, you have no idea." He said in a soft, velvety voice. He closed his eyes and let the wind ghost over his skin, a memory surfacing of the flames and heat once doing the same. He absentmindedly rubbed the phantom pains in his chest at the memory.

"Chest pains?" Ducky asked, wondering if he was in need of any type of medical attention.

"Nah." He shook his head. "Just the memory hurts."

"The memory of what?" McGee asked.

"Dying." Dean said, the corner of his mouth tilting up slightly. "I wouldn't recommend it." He shook his head ruefully.

"If you died then how are you here?" Ziva asked.
"And how did you die in the first place?" Ducky wondered.

"It's a long story." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, pushing away the last of the phantom heat.

"We've got time." Gibbs shrugged. Dean chuckled.

"Of course you do." He sighed. "I'm only gonna tell you what is necessary to the story and nothing more. I'm not telling you everything that's out there because you have to deal with the worst of humanity; you don't need my crap in the scope too."

"Sounds good." Gibbs said suspiciously.

"Sam died." Dean said bluntly. "My little brother died right in front of me." His smile disappeared as he remembered it. "I raised him, I held him as I watched our house burn and I held him as he died." He took a breath and blinked away the tears flooding into his eyes. "I couldn't live without him. He's the only family I've got left. It was my job to protect him and I failed. I couldn't live with that. So I made a deal." Dean said. "I made a deal with a demon and I got his life back."
"I'm sorry, how?" Ziva asked.

"It was a trade. My soul for his life." Dean explained. "And I agreed to it. Usually when you make a deal, you get ten years before the demon comes calling."

"Usually. What about you?" Tony asked.

"I got one." He sighed. "One year to set my affairs in order and say goodbye. Sam tried everything to get me out of it, but there's no way out of those deals. Lilith, the demon chick who held my contract, came calling with her pet when my time was up." He chuckled darkly. "Trust me; you don't want to be a Hell hound's chew toy." He pulled a picture out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. It showed Dean's body, mangled and bloody, with unseeing eyes and a large pool of blood from the numerous long gashes in his chest, arms, and legs.

"The house had security footage." He shrugged. "Bobby had this taped to his desk to remind himself why he does what he does." He sighed. "I went to Hell. Don't ask me what it was like because I won't tell you. I see it enough when I'm sleeping, I don't need to remember it when I'm awake too." His eyes were closed and his hands were shaking. Abby reached over and placed his hands in her own. Her hands were far smaller than his, but it was the support he needed. After pulling himself together again, he continued.

"Four months later, I woke up in a pine box. I dug myself out like I was trained to, but it was still hard to have to do it for real. I will say this of Hell, time passes differently. Four months up here was forty years down there. After I got topside, I caught up with Sam and Bobby and we started looking for whatever pulled me outa the pit. It turned out to be an angel named Castiel. That's pretty much the whole story." He shrugged, putting his mask of indifference back on.

"An angel?" McGee asked. "Like wings and white robes?"

"Nope." Dean grinned. "Try trench coat and a backwards tie."

"You really expect us to believe that?" Ziva asked.

"Well it helps that I can prove it." Dean shrugged. "Cas, I pray that you get your feathery ass down here." He said, to no one in particular. A flutter of wings was heard before a low monotone voice spoke.

"Yes Dean?" All eyes turned to the newcomer; he was kind of short, with curly black hair and crystal blue eyes. He looked at Dean with an expression that was both blank and full of emotion at the same time.

"Hey, Cas, just tryin' to prove that you're real." Dean said.

"I see." Castiel nodded. He turned his gaze upon each of them and, upon his looking away, they all felt a little…cleaner.

"Cas, tell Sammy that I'll meet him at the yard in a few days." Dean told him. Cas nodded and then disappeared with another flutter of wings.

"Oh my God." Abby said, effectively summing up what all of them were thinking.

"Yeah, he has that effect on people." Dean shrugged. "You know, I'd say that I'd go to my grave protesting my innocence in all my crimes, but I just got out of my grave and I actually have committed some minor crimes." Dean stood up.
"I have business to attend to however, so I'll say goodbye here." He said. Abby stood and handed him his jacket, which he slipped into gratefully.

"Where are you going?" Gibbs asked.

"Dunno." Dean said. "I'll have to check the papers, see what's happening that involves my line of work. Guess I'll know where I'm headed once I get there." He looked over at Abby.

"You ever need anything, you call me." He ordered. She smiled.

"Same to ya, pal." She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. He returned the hug without hesitation and briefly thought about how he'd never done that before. When they pulled apart, he kissed her forehead.

"Please be careful." His voice was soft with his small request, not gruff and strong like they had all become accustomed to. It made Gibbs realize that this man really did have feelings, as much as he tried to hide them away. He also realized that Dean didn't feel like he had to be tough and strong with Abby, maybe because she had charmed her way past his defenses or maybe because he saw her as a little sister or something.

"I will." She said. "I won't ask you to be careful because I know you won't, but it's okay. I know you'll at least try because you just got back." He laughed and ducked his head a bit.

"If you're ever in trouble, pray to Cas. I'll have him keep his ears open." He said, addressing all of them. He started to back away, hesitantly, like he thought they might try to stop him.

"Don't go dying on me anytime soon!" She warned him.
"Been there, done that. Don't you worry ma'am, I don't aim to try it again anytime soon." He said, letting his charming western drawl hang in the air. He soon vanished from sight, but the roar of that Impala in the nearby parking lot sounded, announcing his departure. The engine revved and they took that as a goodbye.

"We'll see him again." Abby said. She reached down and flipped over a napkin that was sitting on the table near to where Dean had been seated. She revealed to them the phone number, a different one from the last, written in his thick, heavily slanted scrawl.

For emergencies only

– Dean Winchester

Okay this took me a little longer than I thought but I swore that I would get it up Before Thanksgiving so, I WIN. HAHAHA

Anyway, I don't own 'em, I just love them with all my heart.

I also love you guys. And this is posted under both regular and crossover.

I do have another story that I'm working on for my boys and Sam will be in the next one, it won't be a crossover, just my boys and Bobby and a few other peeps.

See you later!