Work Text:
Accidental Hunt
by Sam-Tony
"Try something new, he says. It'll be fun, he says."
If Tony ever showed his sorry face within Spencer's sight again, Spencer would knock the other hunter on his ass, just for general principles. He didn't *tell* him that he would be bringing friends - or that Abby ingested more caffeine to a more obvious effect than Spencer did.
To be fair though, it wasn't Tony's fault that he attracted trouble the same way every hunter seemed to, which was to say by the bucket load, or that his boss was the type who might track his agents down when unable to reach them on his cell. And it was just a case of bad timing that the 'something new' Tony had wanted to try involved wheels, broken sidewalks and a skin-walker in the wrong place at the wrong time; bent over the murdered body of a marine recruit so new she was barely out of the academy.
Getting NCIS involved was just that extra bit of bad luck, though Spencer having his Bureau ID on him had saved him a lot of questions and one major headache. Though the once over Special Agent Gibbs had given him upon hearing he, Tony and Abby had been out for a stroll (roll?) had been worth it.
Boy was Tony in for a ride if that one ever got over whatever it was holding him back...
Shuffling into his apartment with one hand on the frame for balance, Reid hopped around the open door, nudging it shut with the foot bound up in the white plaster cast. He had thought about some other color that might not show up so damned obviously in the dark, but the only other choices had been neon blue or pink.
He decided to stick with white knowing full well that by the time Garca had whipped out her markers and gotten through with it, he would be lucky to find a spot of white left.
Turning in the lights he flipped the deadbolt, making sure it caught before turning to survey his empty apartment critically. The last time he had had a broken ankle had been right after the hunt for the wendigo that had sent him tumbling off a short cliff and rolling to a painful stop at the bottom, a week after moving to Virginia. Good thing the flare gun had landed a couple feet away and that, after all that was left of the thing was ashes, it had only been a mile or so back to the road and the car.
Back then Spencer had just moved in and there had still been boxes everywhere; at least now he had a clear path from the kitchen to the bathroom...
He had just about decided to skip dinner and one of the pain pills from the bottle rattling around in his satchel in favor of sleep when his cell rang.
His eyebrow rose as he dug the phone out of his bag without checking the caller ID. Tony must really be feeling guilty if he was calling already.
"Hello?"
//What the hell happened?// The angry voice on the other end demanded, causing Spencer to smile as he eased down onto the leather sofa, using one of the throw pillows to cushion his ankle. Propped up on the table in front of him, now that he was off of it, the bone started to throb in a dull, angry ache. Maybe he should see about getting something to eat after all.
Not exactly the voice he was expecting but one he was glad to hear. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he denied lightly, knowing the other man would be scowling all the more for it.
//Dammit, Spencer, don't give me that crap, it's all over the news!//
"And since when did Dean Winchester start watching the DC news?"
//When it's local, jackass,// Dean growled, and Spencer thought he could hear the deeper growl of the Impala's engine in the background. So, on their way then. //And don't try to change the subject.//
"Wouldn't dream of it," Spencer denied, feeling a smile chase it's way around his lips at the image of Dean braving the DC rush hour to find his apartment. "Hey, bring me some of that soup from Havershams, will you? I'm starving."
//Bitch, get your own dinner.//
Spencer laughed outright at that, knowing that Dean would have already changed his route to the deli both Spencer and Sam liked. It was only confirmed by the discussion heard in the background before Dean came back on the line.
//Yeah yeah. Anything else your Highness?//
"Use your key when you get here, I don't feel like getting up to open the door."
//There, you see? I knew something had happened.// There was that growl again and Spencer felt the smile widen until he was grinning from ear to ear, more relaxed and at ease than he had been in a while, knowing the brothers were on there way. //You. Stay put. On your step in 20.//
With that Dean hung up and Spencer did the same, setting his cell phone down on the table beside the sofa and letting his head drop back to rest on the wide cushion. Twenty minutes meant they must have already been in route when Dean had called - or that they had managed to find a motel close enough to his place that the pit stop by the deli wouldn't delay them too much.
Spencer wasn't surprised; Sam had loved that place the last time they had stopped by, and if there was one thing Sam and Dean agreed on when on the road, it was that finding a place that served both healthy food as well as burgers good enough to cause Dean to lapse into culinary bliss was a godsend and meant to be book-marked and flagged on every map the brothers owned. Spencer had quite a few of those bookmarks himself.
Maybe he could convince them to stay over while they were in town. He knew the reasons why they didn't - Dean was still wanted by Hendrickson and the FBI, though Spencer wasn't too worried about that; if Fox had been regarded as a quack back in the days he was running the Xfiles (and before he had seen enough to become a true Hunter) then Hendrickson was believed throughout the Bureau to be just as cracked. Though even a discredited agent could cause trouble if Spencer was found to be harboring fugitives on the FBI's wanted list.
His phone rang again and this time it was the call he had been expecting.
//So how far in the doghouse am I?// Tony whined.
"Not that far." Spencer assured him, even though leaving him twisting in the wind would be so much more fun. "Broken ankle, though you knew that before I had even left the scene, didn't you?"
//Yeah, it felt broken,// Tony admitted. //Though I couldn't get much with Gibbs in the way.//
"With Gibbs making sure to stay in the way, you mean," Spencer chuckled. "You might want to reconsider not mixing work with pleasure, Tony. Before Gibbs breaks me."
//I will when you do,// Tony retorted, and Spencer could hear the raised eyebrow in the challenge. //Last time I checked, you were still playing deaf and dumb to the looks Agent Morgan was throwing your way. Not to mention pining over Hotch and Gideon when they weren't looking.//
"Yeah, yeah...moving on. Sam and Dean are on their way over," Spencer told him, changing the subject before the teasing could evolve beyond pot and kettle to become a true lecture. "Seems we made the evening news."
//Peachy,// Tony drawled and Spencer could almost see the fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. //How bad?//
"No idea. But Dean called me demanding to know - and I quote - 'what the hell happened'. I'm sure it will be on the news later tonight."
//Probably. Abby's down in the lab analyzing that gooey substance we found on the body and Gibbs is no doubt prowling around the Director's office...scratch that, here he comes and it's not looking pretty. Gotta go.//
Spencer shook his head at the dial tone. He wasn't worried about the residue the skin-walker left behind; Dean had found out the hard way that once transformed a skin-walker adopted the host's dna and that would be all their forensics team found. And from everything Tony had been able to find out about the guy the 'walker had chosen, Walter Milford had more than warranted close scrutiny by the authorities...
The door opening brought his attention back to his apartment and the gun tucked down the side of the sofa into his hand. It was gone again before Dean could push past the larger body of his brother, leaving Sam to close and lock the door behind them.
The aroma of Millie Haversham's three bean soup filled the living room, making his mouth water.
Pulled up from the sofa, Spencer ooofed! into a hard hug before Dean pulled back and gave him a thorough once over. Meeting the accusation in the green eyes, Spencer just smiled when Dean gave up the glare and shook his head. "Nothing happened, huh?" The older Winchester accused. "So why is your foot wrapped in a plaster cast? A f'ugly white plaster cast, that, might I add, needs to be christened before it screams dork-boy to the outside world? Hand me a pen."
"Food first," Spencer denied, grinning as Sam used Dean's distracted hunt for said pen to draw Spencer into a hug of his own, this one a bit easier as Sam only had one arm, the brown bag from the deli still dangling from his other hand. "Since I'm fairly certain my purgatory in the back of an ambulance was broadcast across the early evening news, I'm assuming a discreet visit to Ducky is out of the question."
"Yeah, pretty much," Sam shrugged in sympathy. But then, having broken his wrist in a fight against a reanimated corpse, Sammy had just recently gotten his arm out of a cast of his own; he knew how much the cursed thing was going to itch.
Having Ducky surreptitiously heal Spencer's ankle would have been so much easier...now he was going to have to wait until it healed mostly on it's own, which meant field work and hunting were going to be a bitch until it did.
"So what was it?" Dean cast him a sideways glance, taking the bag from his brother and digging through it to find his dinner. Now that he had seen for himself that Spencer was no worse for wear, the food was fair game. It would seem as though Spencer wasn't the only hungry man in the room. "Banshee? Gnome pissed off at having all of us clumsy-footed humans underfoot? Mugger? Demented bird watcher out looking for the next wild snipe?"
"Skin-walker," Spencer muttered absently, looking for the pepper. The less weight Spencer gave the incident, the less worried Dean would be. At least that was the theory, but then, the older Winchester had never been much good when it came to theory...
Case in point...
"Do what?" Dean slammed his plastic spoon down on the table, food forgotten. "Tell me the damned thing is dead."
"Oh, it's dead all right. Tony's boss shot it when it came after us."
"Tony? What were doing in the park with Tony?" Dean grinned slyly. "Or do I want to know?"
"Not what you think - whatever it is you're thinking. And nothing that would get your perv up," Spencer glared at him through the steam rising from his bowl before taking a sip. God that was good. "And no you probably don't but I'll tell you anyway since you'll just go digging and wind up being detained for loitering near a crime scene. Roller-blading. Seems Tony thought I needed to try something new."
"Huh. And how did that go?" Dean snickered around mouthful of cheeseburger. "I mean before the whole deranged doppelganger murder spree thing?"
"Not too bad," Spencer admitted. "Until a broken stretch of sidewalk threw me practically into the 'walkers lap. It pretty much went downhill from there."
"I can imagine." Dean snorted around another bite. Swallowing, he favored Spencer with a knowing look. "So tell me about Tony's boss. Any reason he would be invited to this little party?"
"Invited himself when he couldn't reach Tony on his cell." And this time it was Spencer's turn to smirk. "Ex-marine - a gunny, actually - who apparently likes to keep track of his people; though I somehow doubt he has McGee or Ziva on so sort a leash. Sound familiar?"
He watched as Sam and Dean traded a look of mock horror. "Tell me he's not as closed off as dad was."
Spencer's grimace turned dry. "Not quite. Besides, I don't see how he could be. Abby - his lab tech - is a woman with stark black pigtails, a bigger metal collection than Ash, and has a habit of wearing a dog collar and prep school uniforms to work."
Dean's eyebrow rose in anticipation at that. "Short skirts?"
"Very short skirts," Spencer nodded. "And no you can't go by and check her out."
"Why not?"
"Ex-marine gunny," Spencer reminded him.
"Oh. Well, I'm just sayin' - it was worth a try. You know, metal collection and all..."
"Not worth Sam putting you in the trunk for two days."
"Remind me again how I end up in the trunk?"
"The Impala's version of the doghouse," Sam reminded him pointedly. "Which you would definitely be in for risking the wrath of your brother who is also your lover for getting us caught just for the chance to peek up some woman's skirt."
Dean thought about it for a minute before shrugging one shoulder, acknowledging the truth. "Yeah, you're right. Just means you'll have to wear that outfit for me one of these days."
Sam snorted. "In your dreams."
"*Oh* yeah."
"Don't make me smack you."
"Pretty please."
"Wouldn't that make you the one in the skirt?"
Curling up into the corner of his couch, Spencer sat back and smiled, sipping his soup as the two men bickered. God it was good to have his family home. Good thing he had made sure to buy a bed big enough for three...
End