Chapter 9 - Swan Songs

"No," Tim whispered as he pressed his body back against the bed, trying to put as much space between himself and the evilly smiling face above him as possible. "Leave me alone…"

"But we had so much fun together, Timmy," the demon replied with a grin. It glanced down at Tim's hand, tightly wrapped around the pendant Gibbs had given him. "Although I see that's no longer an option. Pity."

"What do you want?"

"Just keeping my end of the deal."

"W-what deal?"

"Ah, yes, I guess you were a little preoccupied during that discussion. I promised to tell you something that would be useful to your rescuer. I suppose it's up to you whether or not you pass on that information."

"My rescuer?"

"Dean Winchester."

Tim had a flash of memory: a man, holding a strange looking knife...a knife he had wanted to stick into his...no, the demon's heart. The demon studied his reaction to the memory and smiled.

"I see you do remember. As I said, you can decide whether or not to tell him. I, of course, never promised you would."

"Tell him what?"

The demon leaned close and Tim fought to control his nausea as the smell of sulfur hit him. The demon began to whisper in his ear and Tim's eyes widened as he tried to process what it was telling him. The demon finally straightened up and grinned down at him.

"Think you can remember all of that?" Tim nodded, mutely. "Good. I recommend you tell him in person. I doubt he'd believe you otherwise."

"W-where is he?"

The demon laughed. "That's for you to find out. I did my part. The rest is up to you. So long, Timmy. It's been real." It turned and walked out of the ward, leaving Tim to deal with the weight of the information it had just given him.

XXX

Gibbs and Tony arrived at Tim's new room to find him arguing, albeit weakly, with his doctor.

"What's going on?" Gibbs asked and the doctor turned to him, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Agent McGee wanted to know when he'd be allowed to leave, and he is not happy with my response."

"Which was?"

"Considering the fact that he was in a coma for five days, the cause of which we have yet to fully determine, he'll need to be kept under observation for at least three days, preferably longer. Once he's recovered to the point where he's at least somewhat mobile, we will consider moving him to a rehabilitation center. In the meantime, we will need to determine the underlying cause for his…" The doctor glanced at Tim. "Self-neglect."

"Trust me, doc, that problem has been eliminated."

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs, but one does not just brush off something like this. These type of...disorders have one of the lowest recovery rates."

"It wasn't his fault," Tony started to protest, but a look from Gibbs silenced him.

"So you have the fact remains that we need to make sure the pattern of behavior will not resume."

"It won't," Tim managed to reply, drawing the attention of the other men. "I promise."

"While I admire your intentions, Agent McGee, your recovery won't be quite that simple. We need to first determine the reason for it." Tony saw the fear in Tim's eyes and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

"You'll be OK, Probie. We'll figure this out."

"I didn't want this to happen, but I...I wasn't...in control."

"But you feel as though you're in control now?" Tim nodded. "I see. Well, one of our staff psychiatrists has expressed an interest in your case. I'll arrange for her to speak with you as soon as she's available. In the meantime, we'll work on getting you back on track nutrition-wise. I assume one of you will be staying with him?" the doctor asked, addressing Tony and Gibbs.

"I'll stay, Boss. If that's OK with you, McGee?" Tim nodded again.

The doctor made one final check and left before Tony turned to study his partner. "What's wrong, Tim?"

Tim let out a soft huff. "Where do you want me to start?"

Tony noticed that Tim was gripping something in his hand so hard his knuckles had turned white. "What do you have, there?"

"Anti-possession charm," Gibbs replied. "I gave it to him earlier."

"It works," Tim whispered, and both men turned to him in surprise.

"How-?"

"The...it was here. It paid me a visit. One last...torture, I guess."

"Are you OK?"

Tim shook his head. "Ask me later, Boss. Once I'm out of here."

"Is it still around?"

"I don't think so…"

"Damn. Tony, do you-?" Tony loosened his collar and pulled the charm up so it was visible. "Good. I'm gonna go make a few calls."

"Got it." Gibbs left and Tony pulled a chair up next to Tim's bed. He lowered himself into it and then met Tim's gaze. "Tell me what happened. How did this whole thing start?" Tim turned his head away. "Come on, man, I want to help."

"You can't. I can't… I can't talk about it. I just can't…"

"Tim, you know you're going to have to talk to someone, and I seriously doubt that shrink is going to-"

"I know!" Tim winced as his voice cracked. "I do know, Tony, but right now…"

"Too soon?"

"Yeah…"

"OK. But when you are ready to talk, I'm ready to listen."

Before Tim could reply a nurse entered the room carrying a tray. Tony noticed the fear in Tim's eyes as he watched her approach and he rose from his chair to confront her. She gave him a puzzled look.

"Just bringing Agent McGee his breakfast." She set the tray on the table and opened one of the containers before addressing her patient. "We're starting you out on liquids, and if you tolerate those well enough will move to more solid food later." She put a straw in the container and set it on the table before raising the head of his bed. Once he had adjusted to the change in position she held the straw up to his mouth and he took a sip of the concoction, grimacing slightly at the taste.

"OK?" He nodded and tried to reach for the container but his arm started to shake.

"Here, I've got it." Tony held the container for Tim as he took a few more sips.

"Don't worry if you can't manage to drink all of it at once. Your body's still adjusting."

"OK…"

She smiled. "There's another one here if you feel that you can tolerate more. I'll be back in about 15 minutes, all right?" Tim nodded and the nurse left.

"How is it?"

"Awful. But if drinking it gets me out of here…"

"It's a start, at least."

After a couple more sips, Tim shook his head and Tony set the drink back on the tray. "Better?"

"A little."

Tony gently ruffled Tim's hair, earning him an annoyed look and he grinned. "You're going to be OK, Tim."

Tim said nothing.

"You want to go back to sleep?"

"Not right now. Tell me...what I missed."

"Oh, man, that's going to take a while."

"Not going anywhere…"

"All right." Tony began to fill him in on the events of the past few months. Tim seemed to be listening but he didn't really respond to what Tony was telling him. Finally Tony noticed that Tim's eyes were closed and he lowered the head of the bed so his friend would be more comfortable.

The morning passed and the nurses made several visits, but Tim didn't stir. Just before noon, Abby and Ziva arrived, eager to speak with Tim but he never opened his eyes. After they reluctantly left Tony leaned close to McGee and spoke to him in a low voice.

"I know you're not asleep, McGee. You're too tense." Slowly Tim's eyes opened. "Why didn't you want to talk to Abby and Ziva?" He closed his eyes again and turned his head away. "Come on, man, don't shut us out." Before Tim could respond, they heard a soft knock at the door and Tony looked up...and then down at the diminutive woman standing in the doorway.

"Agent McGee?" Tim opened his eyes and looked toward the door, his eyebrows rising slightly in surprise when he saw the visitor. She walked up to his bed and held out her hand. "I'm Dr. Wallace, but you can call me Nadia. I'm your counselor." She grinned at his quizzical expression. "Sounds better than 'shrink'."

Tony noticed that Tim was warily studying the woman. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Generally I speak to my patients one-on-one, Mr…?"

"Agent DiNozzo. You can call me Tony."

"OK, Tony. I really do need to speak to Agent McGee in private. That confidentiality thing, you know."

"It's OK, Tony," Tim finally replied. "You need a break."

"You sure?" Tim gave him a small nod. "OK, I'll be back in a few."

Tony headed out in the hall and stopped to listen for a moment. He could hear Nadia giving Tim her background-working with PTSD patients-and he decided it was safe to leave. He just hoped this woman really could help Tim as much as she seemed to think.

XXX

Tim listened to the woman as she gave her background and though he had to agree that what he had experienced was traumatic, he was still fairly certain she wouldn't be able to help with his particular problem.

After giving him a rundown of her credentials and experience, Nadia stopped talking for a moment and cocked her head, listening. She moved to the door, checked the hall, and then carefully closed the door before returning to Tim's bedside.

"OK, now for the real reason for my visit." Tim felt the blood drain from his face, but she saw his expression and shook her head. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise. Show me what's in your hand."

"Why?"

"Because it will help, trust me."

He carefully uncurled his fingers and showed her the pendant. The symbol had been impressed in his hand and Tim realized that it was probably going to bruise.

Nadia studied the symbol, then pulled up her sleeve to reveal its twin, tattooed on her forearm. Tim stared at her in shock.

"What…?"

"Bobby Singer told me about you. He figured you'd need a little extra help from someone who really understands."

"You...you were…?"

"When I was twelve." A shadow passed over her expression but she quickly recovered. "I had to watch while it killed my mother."

"I...I am so sorry...I didn't-"

"Not something I advertise, that's for sure." She let her sleeve fall back into place. "After it happened, it left me. I was a suspect at first, until the police decided there was no way I would have had the strength to snap my mother's neck. Soon another 'investigator' showed up, asked some really strange questions, and I… I told him the truth. He gave me the real story."

"Bobby Singer? Was that the one who-?"

"Yes. He told me I could let it destroy me, or...do something about it." She laughed. "Obviously I wasn't able to be a hunter, but I decided I would help people who had horrible things happen to them...supernatural or not. And so…"

"You became a...counselor."

"I did. Now, will you let me try and help you?"

"OK…"

"Good. Let's get started."

XXX

When Tony returned following McGee's first session with Nadia, he saw immediately that the younger man was not as tense as he had been. He was quietly staring out the window, a contemplative expression on his face.

"You OK?"

He turned to look at Tony and gave a slight nod. "A little better, I think. I'm going to need time, though, Nadia said."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that. What did you tell her?"

"Everything I could remember. Don't worry, she understands. She's, uh, had a similar experience."

Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Seriously?" Tim nodded. "Oh, man… Guess you lucked out. Having her as a shrink, I mean."

"Something like that."

Before Tony could ask for clarification a nurse walked into the room, carrying another tray. Tony noticed that Tim tensed again, but he at least managed to look up at the woman without showing the fear he had displayed earlier.

"We're going to try introducing some solid foods, Agent McGee. You'll want to take it slow, though."

Tim nodded, although Tony noticed he hadn't managed a smile. The nurse left and Tim let out a soft huff of relief.

"OK?"

"Like Nadia said, I'm going to need some time."

"Don't worry, Tim, we'll give you all the time you need."

XXX

Over the next few days, Tim seemed to improve, at least physically. He followed the orders of his doctor, physical therapist, and nutritionist almost obsessively-although Tony suspected he still wasn't sleeping well-and by the end of the week he was adamantly asking to be released from the hospital. Tim was very reluctant to go to a rehabilitation facility so Ducky had offered his own home as a solution to the problem, saying that he knew Timothy would be much better off with people he knew at that he would keep an eye on the young agent. The doctor finally agreed and Tim was brought to the large house in Virginia, which would serve as a quiet place for his recuperation and recovery.

One of the team was with him as much as possible, and he was rarely alone, but none of them were really able to get him to open up and talk about his experience. Tony noticed that he was a little more relaxed after his sessions with Nadia, but that peace never seemed to last very long. He was still somewhat uncomfortable around Gibbs, Ducky, and Abby, but they could see he was fighting to get over that feeling, although he would not admit why those three in particular caused him such anxiety.

After the first week Tony took Tim out to the gym to help him get back in shape. Tim was just as dedicated to achieving those goals as he had been for his own physical recovery,but his progress was slow, and Tony could tell he was getting frustrated and depressed by his lack of improvement in some areas. Eventually he did get to the point where Tony thought he was ready to try working towards firearms recertification and he scheduled a trip to the range.

At first, all Tim did was stare at the gun, but eventually he was able to go through the normal routine. As he carefully observed his partner, Tony noticed one rather disturbing change in Tim's attitude: the intensity with which he regarded the targets was vastly different to what he had shown a year ago. Instead of the normal studious concentration Tim had formally maintained while shooting, Tony could detect cold fury in the man's expression as he quickly and repeatedly pulled the trigger, hitting the dead center of the target more often than not. Tony tried to question him about his actions but Tim attempted to brush it off, saying Tony had misread his expression. Tony decided not to call him on the obvious lie-although it was a relief to be able to tell that Tim was lying-and made a mental note to keep a closer eye on the younger man.

Two days after that confrontation Tim decided he was ready to go home. Abby, Ziva, and Jimmy volunteered to make sure his apartment was ready for him, and after they reported back that it was clean, Tony drove Tim to his place in Silver Spring.

"Home, sweet home," Tony declared as he opened the door for Tim and carried his bag to the bedroom. The place was spotless and well aired out, evidence of the care the group had taken to erase any signs of the unwelcome occupant. Tim merely nodded and sat down in his desk chair, slowly surveying the room as Tony checked the kitchen. "Want something to drink? The fridge is well stocked."

"No, thanks."

Tony grabbed a soda and joined Tim in the living room. He plopped down in the only other available chair and looked Tim in the eye.

"OK, talk to me."

"About what?"

"That's not going to work this time, McGee. Tell me what's been going through that gigantic brain of yours."

"Tony...you really don't want to know."

"Yes, I do. I promised I'd give you time, and I have, but we need to talk about this. I want to help, and I've been trying-"

"I know you have, but maybe…maybe you should consider that I don't want you to know." He sighed. "You don't need that…"

"Need what?"

"Damn it, Tony, did it ever occur to you…" He stopped himself and sighed. "Maybe there are some things you're better off not knowing."

"You don't need to protect me, Tim, if that's what you're insinuating. I'm a big boy. I can handle it. If it helps you to have someone else to talk to…"

"But it's not going to help you. Trust me on this one." He looked away for a moment and sighed. "Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me. I really do, but-"

"But maybe it shouldn't have taken something this extreme for me to want to help you out." Tim's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I know I haven't always been the friend you needed. I know sometimes I've been a royal pain in the ass, but… Damn it, I don't have many friends. I don't want to lose the ones I do have."

Tim studied Tony for several moments before a flash of...well, Tony wasn't sure what that emotion was, but it was soon replaced with a sense of weariness.

"You're afraid I'm going to do something stupid, aren't you? You're afraid I'm going to give up." He shook his head. "You don't have to worry about that. I promise."

"I don't know, man. It's just that...I've seen you get pretty low, and I am worried."

"Suicides go straight to Hell, Tony, so I've been informed, and trust me, I've seen enough of that place to last a lifetime."

Tony froze, not sure he liked what Tim was implying.

"What do you mean?" Tim blinked a couple of times and looked away, biting his lip as he avoided Tony's gaze. "Tim…"

"It showed me. The demon. It projected images in my head...they seemed so real, it was like I was there." He looked up at Tony, a haunted look in his eyes. "I never want to see that again."

"Oh, God…"

"It did it for spite, I think, or maybe it did it for fun. I could never really tell."

"Is that all it did?" Tim shook his head. "What else?"

Tim let out a humorless bark of laughter. "What didn't it do? It was bad enough that I had to watch when it… When I couldn't do anything. I saw how it acted with all of you, and I couldn't stop it."

"We're OK, Tim, and we don't blame you for any of it."

"I know that now, but at the time… I tried to fight it, and that's when it really...got creative."

Tony was pretty sure he didn't want to know what 'creative' was for a demon, but he knew Tim needed to get this out.

"What did it do?"

Tim huffed. "What demons love to do, apparently. It took all my worst fears and amplified them." He shook his head. "It even used some things I'd forgotten. Do you remember back before I was officially on the team, and I had to go down to Autopsy to keep the computers cool?"

"Yeah, vaguely."

"I had nightmares about it for that next week, but the fear soon faded. The demon brought that back. Made me experience my own autopsy. Several times."

"By 'experience', you mean…?"

"Yeah. I was still in my body while it was being autopsied. I could feel everything."

Tony felt his gorge rise. "Oh my God… Wait. Is that why you've been leery of Ducky?"

A bit of color rose in Tim's cheeks as he nodded. "I know Ducky would never hurt me, but those memories of him...cutting into me, I just can't seem to shake them."

"You should tell him. He'll understand."

"No! He doesn't need that. He's done so much to help me, and...he doesn't need that burden. I'll get over it. I will."

"I know you will, Tim. But it's not a crime to ask for help."

Tim snorted softly. "Not in my experience."

"Yeah, I know, none of us are very good at asking, and we haven't reacted all that well when we knew you were struggling, but… Damn it, I want to change that. OK?"

"OK…" Tim looked up at him and offered the closest thing to a smile Tony had seen from him since the whole thing started.

"Good. Now, how about lunch?"

"Tony, I'm fine. I'd really like to be alone for awhile."

"Alone? I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, are you ready for-."

"Considering that I haven't been alone since I got back from Africa...I'll be fine. I promise. Please."

"OK, Tim. I'll be back later, though. With movies."

Tim chuckled softly. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

XXX

Gibbs heard the creek of the stairs and looked up to see McGee standing on the top step, looking as if he hadn't quite made up his mind on whether to continue down or to turn and leave. Gibbs was not completely surprised by McGee's visit. The younger man had been at the Yard earlier that day to complete the tests and paperwork for his return to NCIS, and a call from Vance had told Gibbs that all had not gone as everyone had hoped.

"McGee," Gibbs called, making an effort to keep the tension out of his voice. Tim finally started down the steps and stopped again when he reached the bottom, his posture telling Gibbs how he was dealing with the events of that afternoon.

"I'm sorry, Boss...Gibbs."

"Vance called me earlier." Gibbs saw McGee deflate even more. "Said we'd meet on Monday to discuss your options."

"What options?" Tim replied, the bitterness in his voice clear. "I failed my polygraph and my psych eval...although given what happened with the former, I shouldn't have been surprised by the latter."

"You still need time, Tim."

Tim just shook his head. "I'm not even sure that's going to help any more."

"Tell me what happened."

"Didn't Director Vance…?"

"He just said you weren't ready to return. He didn't give me details." He had, but Gibbs wanted McGee to tell the story from his perspective, which could help Gibbs help his agent.

"I lost it. I had a damn flashback in the middle of the polygraph...think I scared poor Susan Grady half to death."

"What caused it?"

"You don't want to know."

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked, McGee."

"She started asking the standard questions, and I was doing OK, but then she got to the 'have you committed a felony' part, and I remembered some things...that the demon had done, and I know it was the demon, but...I was there, too. I watched them die, Boss, and I couldn't do anything."

"Who?" Gibbs had suspected something after heard found out about Tim's possession, but he needed to know what had really happened during those months.

"A lot of people." Tim glanced up at Gibbs, obviously looking for censure, but Gibbs kept his expression neutral. Tim sighed. "The first was Officer Ben-Gidon. I had no idea what it was even going to do when it went after him, but...it killed him. All I could do was watch."

"That wasn't your fault, McGee."

"I didn't stop it."

"Been talking to Singer about all this since it happened. He said fighting possession is damn near impossible. Says he knows from experience, too."

Tim's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Define 'damn near'."

"If someone you really care about is in danger, then maybe. And that's a big maybe."

"Oh my God…"

"What?"

"It told me… It said it wouldn't hurt any of you. It didn't want me fighting back, so it took…" Anguish appeared on Tim's pale face. "It took away my only weapon. I am so sorry."

"Told you before, McGee, it wasn't your fault. You didn't know. None of us did." He studied McGee carefully before he continued. "You said Ben-Gidon was the first. How many more?"

"That lawyer, M. Allison Hart. The guy with the muscle cars." He looked up at Gibbs, his face grim. "Paloma Reynosa and her people. Alejandro Rivera, her brother."

Gibbs' eyebrows rose. "Do you know why?"

"Because it felt like it, I think. They were convenient. And… I don't know, Boss."

"I think you do, McGee."

"Those people… Ben-Gidon, he was just following orders. Hart, she...well, I guess she was really just doing her job."

"And the others?"

McGee sighed. "I know why Paloma and Rivera were after you, Boss. I...I know what you did, and...part of me understands why you did it. I do know you probably saved a lot of people that Hernandez would have eventually killed, but…"

"I acted outside the law." McGee nodded. "And that bothers you."

"Shouldn't it?"

"Yeah, McGee, it should. That's one thing that tells me you are still you." Gibbs studied him again. "What are you going to do?"

"I really don't know, Boss. I...I really don't know."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know that, either."

"Do you want to come back to NCIS? Work with me?"

"I do, Boss, but… I don't know if I can. Not right now, and it doesn't have...much to do with what you did. There's something I need to do. I know that much, at least."

"Whatever you need, Tim. We'll wait for you."

"Are you sure? It might take some time."

"You're part of my team, McGee. That's not gonna change."

A ghost of a smile crossed McGee's face. "Thanks, Boss."

"Not a problem."

"Guess I better get going. Good night, Gibbs."

"G'night, McGee. See you on Monday."

McGee paused, looking as if he was going to say something else before he gave a little wave and headed up the stairs. Gibbs watched him leave, his thoughts turning to what McGee had told him, and how he might have to deal with the potential fallout.

XXX

Gibbs arrived early to start the work week and to talk to Vance before McGee showed up. He knew it would take some careful maneuvering, but he was confident that his team would be together again.

When he reached the bullpen he was surprised to see that McGee's personal possessions had been removed from his desk and that his own desk had an envelope sitting in the center of it. He picked it up, lifted the flap and removed a single sheet of paper. He read the short typewritten note several times, trying to wrap his mind around what McGee was thinking, and realized that maybe time was not all the man needed. Gibbs had made him a promise, and he intended to keep it, but it looked like it was going to be more difficult that he had expected.

The sound of the elevator bell drew his attention and he looked up to see Tony and Ziva approaching.

"Hey Boss, where's-" He caught sight of McGee's bare work area. "Where's McGee's stuff? He's not...he's supposed to be coming back today."

"I'm afraid there's been a change of plans," Vance replied from the catwalk. "I'll need to see you all in my office."

"What's going on, Boss?" Tony asked, his earlier confusion replaced by concern. "Is Tim OK?"

"No. Come on, let's go see what Leon has to say."

Tony and Ziva exchanged worried glances before following GIbbs up the stairs. Once they were in Vance's office Tony and Ziva stood on either side of Gibbs, presenting a united front in support of their teammate.

"McGee was here early this morning to hand in his letter of resignation." Vance raised his hand to quiet the sudden outbursts. "I was not willing to accept it at this time, but McGee was adamant. We reached a compromise."

"Which was?"

"He's taking the rest of his saved-up medical leave and vacation time, followed by, if necessary, an unpaid leave of absence of up to six months. He will re-take both the polygraph and psychological evaluation when he returns, and if he is still unable to meet the requirements then we both agreed it's best that he seek another line of work."

"And neither of you bothered to include me in this decision?"

"McGee indicated that you would understand. He told me to mention rule number eighteen." He looked at the other two agents. "He also wanted to make it clear that his situation is not your fault and he doesn't blame you for any of this."

"But why isn't he coming back now?" Tony demanded.

"He said he was concerned for your safety if he returned to the team, and that he was afraid he wasn't certain he would always be able to have your backs. He's still working through some issues...as evidenced by his reactions during the testing process."

"But he was...fine. He said he could handle being back. He would not lie to us about this."

"Obviously something changed his mind, Agent David."

Tony turned to Gibbs. "We need to talk to him, Boss."

Gibbs remained silent. He knew how stubborn McGee could be, and he suspected any attempts to change his mind could backfire. Finally he addressed Vance.

"How much time does he have saved up before the unpaid leave kicks in?"

"Six months. I understand this will place a strain on the team's workload and I will be assigning a-"

"We don't want another agent, we want McGee."

"DiNozzo..."

"I'm going to go talk to him. He doesn't need to do this."

"And he should at least explain why."

Gibbs glanced at Vance, who gave him a sympathetic nod. "All right, let's go."

Ziva offered to drive as they headed towards the parking lot-joined by Abby who had heard of McGee's departure and was frantic to talk to him-but Gibbs refused her offer. Traffic was horrible and it took them longer to reach McGee's apartment than any of them liked, but it did give Tony and Abby some time to calm down and talk through how they would convince McGee to re-think his decision. When they finally reached the building in Silver Spring, Gibbs noticed that McGee's car was not in the parking lot.

"He is not here. Where could he have gone?"

Abby pulled out her phone and tapped a button. She listened, her eyes widening at the message. "His phone has been disconnected." She tried another number, her expression growing more worried when she listened to another message. "His home phone, too."

"Come on." Tony led the way to McGee's apartment they were surprised to find it unlocked. Tony slowly opened the door and froze when he saw the interior of the apartment. It was empty.

"What in the hell?" He turned to Gibbs, eyes wide. "Boss, what-?"

"What are you doing?"

They all turned to see who had spoken behind them. A man in paint-spattered clothes was approaching, a can of paint in one hand and a bucket in the other.

"Where's McGee?" Tony demanded. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Who are you?"

"Special Agents DiNozzo, Gibbs, and David, and Abby Sciuto, NCIS."

"Ah. said you'd be by. Hang on." He fished an envelope out of his pants pocket and

held it out to Tony. "He wanted me to give this to you."

"Where is he?"

"He moved out. Packed up everything this weekend. Said he sold his car, too. Only had a month left on the lease, so I cut him a break. He looked like he needed one." The man brushed past them. "Sorry, I need to get this ready for the next tenant." He shut the door behind him, leaving the stunned group in the hallway.

"Why? Why would he do this?" Abby moaned, near tears. Tony ripped open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. He quickly unfolded it and started to read.

"'Tony, I'm sorry I had to leave like this, but I thought it would best to make a clean break. I'm guessing you already know why I can't return to NCIS. I couldn't live with myself if I put any of you in danger. I know you tried to help me get back to normal, and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I'm not sure I'm ever going to be the same. I don't blame you for any of this, and please tell everyone else that I don't blame any of them, either. I just wanted to let you know that it was truly an honor to work with you. All of you. You taught me so much, and I'll always be grateful for that. Don't be too hard on the next 'probie', OK? One more thing: please don't try and find me. Thanks. McGee.'" Tony looked up at Gibbs, who had one arm wrapped around a quietly sobbing Abby. "Boss, what the hell is he thinking?"

Gibbs pulled the note McGee had left him out of his pocket and handed it to Tony. "He's not. He's angry with himself and with what happened to him. He's looking for a way to deal with it."

"And we are just going to let him do this? He needs help, Gibbs."

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure we're not the ones that can help him, Ziva."

"Then who can?"

Gibbs let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Someone with nothing to lose."

XXX

Dean Winchester slammed the hood of the car that he'd been fixing and grabbed a bottle of beer from his nearby cooler. He took a long pull, wiped his mouth on his sweaty forearm, and scanned the wrecking yard for his next project. There was always something to work on, some almost-wreck in need of some special attention, and he had spent the last month or so getting several of them back into running condition. It filled the time, something he had way too much of on his hands now.

The promise he had made to his brother, to join Lisa and Ben and try to have a normal life, weighed heavily on his mind, but he just couldn't bring himself to fulfill it. He hadn't gone on any hunts since the one in near D.C. but he still couldn't abandon the life altogether. He helped Bobby do research and prepare for the somewhat local hunts the older man was still doing, and several times Dean had almost gone with him but something always held him back. He was in limbo, coasting along, not really living but still not ready to give up completely.

He took another drink of his beer before setting it on top of the cooler and resuming his work on the car. He was just about to lay down on the mechanic's creeper to check underneath when he heard the crunch of shoes on gravel. He turned to see a thin, pale man with short brown hair and bright green eyes walking towards him. He was carrying a duffle bag over one shoulder and a flat satchel over the other. Dean slowly reached for the gun he kept tucked out sight and gave the man a less-than friendly smile.

"Help ya?"

"Dean Winchester?" The man's voice was low, but bore no trace of malice.

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Tim McGee. I need to talk to you."

Dean studied the man and realized he looked familiar. "You're that guy from D.C. The Navy cop who got possessed, right?" The man nodded and Dean narrowed his eyes. "You're not back for a repeat performance, are you?" Wordlessly the man pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a familiar tattoo. "All right. What do you need?"

"The demon gave me some information for you, like it promised. I came to give it to you."

"OK. What did it tell you?"

"First, I need you to do something for me."

Dean chuckled. "Think I already did that when I didn't gank you to kill that demon." Dean noticed a tightness around the man's eyes. "Or are you wishing I had?"

"Sometimes. But now I have something else to worry about. I want you to help me find that demon. I want it dead."

"Sorry, pal, but I'm retired." He paused, realizing what this Tim guy had actually said. "Wait, 'help' you find it? You want to hunt demons?"

"Yes."

Dean laughed. "You don't look like hunter material to me, buddy."

"I'm a highly trained...former federal agent."

"Agent or not, you look like a strong breeze would knock you on your ass." Before Dean could react, the man pulled a gun from his belt and shot the beer bottle off the cooler. Dean looked at the shattered glass before turning back to the man who now had the gun aimed at him.

"I wasn't done with that."

"I'll buy you another."

"All right. Let's say I do help you." The man lowered the gun. "What's in it for me? Besides some crap info from a demon."

"I'll help you find your brother."

He barely managed to controlled the surge of anger that boiled up from his gut. "I already know where my brother is."

"He's not in Hell, if that's what you think."

Dean froze, not sure he had actually heard the man correctly. "What?"

"I know your brother jumped into the cage to take Lucifer back to Hell. I also know he's not there anymore."

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture, which he tossed to Dean. Keeping an eye on his visitor, Dean slowly reached down and picked it up, sucking in a quick breath when he saw the image. It was a slightly grainy photograph of two men, one of them definitely his brother and the other… That's impossible.

"Time stamp is from three days ago. I may not know him, but I've got a pretty good facial recognition program and it gave me a 89% match to your brother's most recent mug shot."

"Where? Where was this taken?"

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Dean studied the man, suddenly struck with the impression that he had seriously underestimated him before.

"OK. All right. Tim?" The man nodded. "You can really help me find him?" Tim gave him what might have been a smile. "Well then, I say we have ourselves a deal."

"Then let's get started." Tim replied grimly. "We've got work to do."

The End

A/N: There will be a sequel to this story, titled Two Graves.