Rated T for sexual content and foul language.

Disclaimer: I got the idea for this story from an episode of The Haunted on Netflix, in which a man was experiencing this very same thing. I am not using his exact experience, as the show is reality-based, but I thought it would be fun to torture Tony for a bit (I'm so evil...)

Chapter 1

"The next callout we have, I'm driving," Tony grumbled as he nearly fell out of the MCRT van at the crime scene. Gibbs smirked as he pocketed the keys and walked toward the front door of the home of Gunnery Sergeant Ken Spencer. The team had been called when a neighbor came to visit, and found him on the floor of his office, holding an antique pistol in his hand.

Gibbs assigned Tony to bag and tag, while Tim took photos. As soon as he'd delegated assignments, he went back into the living room to talk to the neighbors.

"This looks pretty cut and dry to me," Tim said as he took a picture of the gun.

"No signs of struggle as far as I can see," Tony said as he squatted in front of the body, snapping on a pair of latex gloves.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Tony looked up to see Ducky and Jimmy making their way into the small study. Ducky kneeled in front of the body and started his preliminary examination. Tony decided to busy himself with looking around the office for clues. He searched the desk, and didn't find any incriminating paperwork. He turned on the computer, and noticed immediately that it was locked. He closed the laptop and retrieved an extra-large evidence bag, to take it with them back to NCIS. As he deposited the MacBook into an evidence bin, Ducky looked up.

"He's been dead for two days. I don't see any defensive wounds from my preliminary examination. I'll have to examine him further when I get him home, but it looks like our Gunnery Sergeant committed suicide."

Distraught wailing could suddenly be heard from the living room.

"Sounds like his wife is home," Tony observed.

"Mr. Palmer, let's get him on the gurney before his wife sees him like this."

"Yes, Doctor."

Tony helped Ducky and Jimmy get the body bag onto the gurney, and Tim continued to take photos. After the ME had gone with the body, Tony suddenly felt lightheaded. He regained his bearings and looked around the room. He was oddly shaken at how clean and undisturbed it was. There was something about this house that didn't sit right with Tony, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. Shaking off his apprehension, he continued to process the scene.

later that afternoon...

"What have you got, Ducky?" Tony asked as he entered Autopsy.

"It's as I expected. Gunnery Sergeant Spencer shot himself in the head."

Tony found himself staring at the body, now cut open from stem to sternum on Ducky's autopsy table. He recalled the home, and how tidy and organized it had been. He hadn't even found a liquor cabinet in the home. What would someone who lived so cleanly have weighing on him that would make him want to shoot himself?

"Tony? Are you all right?"

Tony brought himself back and looked up at a concerned Palmer.

"I'm good. Thanks, Ducky. I'll let Gibbs know so we can close the case."

Tony turned and left Autopsy, leaving Ducky and Palmer with confused looks on their faces.

As the elevator ascended to the squad room, the lightheaded feeling Tony experienced at the Gunny's house started to come back. He reached out and hit the elevator stop.

"What in the hell?" he said to himself as he leaned back against the elevator wall. He hoped it wasn't an oncoming flu as he regained his bearings and turned the elevator back on.

Gibbs was at his desk when Tony came back. He looked up at the SFA as he entered the bullpen area.

"What did Ducky say?"

"It was definitely suicide, Boss. Ducky has no doubt that the Gunny shot himself in the head."

"Okay. You and McGee write your reports and get them to me ASAP so we can close this up."

"On it, Boss."

Tony sat at his desk and pulled up an empty case report. He still had a weird feeling about this case, but at least it was over, and he could put it behind him forever.

Tony trudged into his apartment around midnight. Right after they'd closed the Spencer case, another one fell into their laps, and Gibbs had them working well into the night. He kicked off his shoes and fell onto the couch, too tired to make it to his bedroom. He fell asleep as soon as his face hit the pillow.

A soft hand gently cupped his cheek, and he awakened. When had he gotten into his bed? He looked to find the source of the touch, and fell into the gaze of a beautiful woman. Her long, flowing brown hair fell over her naked breasts, and her brown eyes seemed to gaze deep into his soul. She was lying on her side next to him.

She leaned in and kissed him softly. Tony closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss. He could feel shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his veins as they passionately kissed. He reached out to cup her breast in his hand, but she met his reach with her own hand, and clasped it as her other hand roamed his body.

He felt the zipper release on his slacks, and her soft hand slipped down into his underwear. His eyes rolled back into his head at her touch. The pleasure was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He could feel his orgasm slowly building up, but he didn't want this feeling to stop.

With a satisfied shout, Tony felt his release. He shuddered through his orgasm and sank into the bed. He felt completely satisfied. He opened his eyes to look at the beautiful woman, see her once more.

When he looked into her eyes, they suddenly changed from deep brown to glassy and green, and they resembled the eyes of a cat.

The woman sat up on his lap and hissed at him, her fingers transformed into long, sharp claws. Suddenly, she was slashing at him with both hands, hissing and screeching. He tried to push her off of him, but he didn't have the strength. He screamed out as she slashed across his chest. He was helpless to save himself...

Tony shot up on the couch, breathing heavy. He looked around his darkened apartment. No one was there. He looked down at his clothing. It was still intact, and his pants, regrettably, were still zipped up.

"It was a dream. Just a dream," he said, pushing himself off the couch. He padded into his room to change into something more comfortable for sleeping. As he stood in front of his dresser mirror and unbuttoned his shirt, a scar came into view underneath his shirt. He rapidly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open.

There were several slash marks on his chest, made by something big.

"What the hell..."

He let his shirt fall to the floor, and was terrified to find more scratches on his upper right arm, where he'd tried to defend himself in-

"The dream... no, no way, that was a dream," he told himself. "That didn't happen. It couldn't."

Tony quickly pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants and crawled into his bed. He didn't sleep the rest of the night.

TBC...