Author's Note:  This is the fifth in the "It's the End..." series.
Rating: R to be safe
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these shows or movies and I'm not making any money from this fic
Warning(s): There will/may be spanking/discipline of adults. VERY AU (given that there is more than one crossover involved).
Verse/Setting:  Post-Angel; Post-Harry Potter (but epilogue did not occur); Post-Numb3rs; Post-season-four-NCIS:LA; Post-movie Avengers; Pre-series finale Star Trek:Voyager; Post-It’s a Good Day to Die Hard; Post-season-eight Supernatural.

Character bios:
-Lindsey McDonald (b. 1974) is from Angel. 
-Ian Edgerton (b. 1962) and Colby Granger (b. 1972) are from Numb3rs. 
-Hermione Granger (b. 1979) is from Harry Potter.
-Owen Granger (b. 1955) is from NCIS:LA.
-Tom Paris (b. 2346 age 24) and Chakotay (b. 2329, age 41) are from ST:Voyager.
-Clint Barton (b.1971), Loki (b. ?) and Natasha Romanoff (b. 1984) are from Avengers.
-John McClane (b. 1955), Matt Farrell (b. 1978), Lucy McClane (b. 1982), and John 'Jack' McClane  Jr.(b. 1984) are from the movie franchise Die Hard. 
-Dean (b.1978) and Castiel (b. ?) are from Supernatural


IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT
WHAT IS…


July 5, 2013

Phoenix Arizona


Chakotay watched his younger companion quietly as the boy shifted in his sleep, trying to find a comfortable position. Things were still unsettled enough that they didn't feel safe sleeping without a guard. At least now they knew where they were- and when. 

Shortly after they had finally reached a town of decent size, Tom had used some of his more shady abilities. The kid had seemed ashamed to let Chakotay know how good he was at stealing- Chakotay didn't say anything. They needed to survive and as long as Tom didn't use those abilities for any reason other than survival, he saw no reason to hold it over the younger man's head. The end result was that they'd garnered enough money to buy each of them a couple sets of clothing and bags to carry them in, plus a few necessities. Afterwards, they'd found a shop that sold newspapers.  

The local newspaper had said they were in Phoenix, Arizona, in the year 2013- over three hundred years in the past. They'd now spent two nights in Phoenix, having just enough money left from their ill gained stash for a couple of nights in a cheap room at a run-down motel in an area of town that had seen better days. The grouchy older woman who'd handed over a key had raised an eyebrow at the fact that he and Tom were sharing a room, but she didn't say anything.  It was obvious what she was assuming about the two of them, but cared more about the money than about what they might be doing in the stained, flea infested beds.

Since she didn't say anything, he didn't correct her assumption. It was nobody's business but their own- although he often felt like a beleaguered older brother or uncle to the younger man and the thought of someone assuming their relationship was sexual somehow felt dirty; even if they weren't related by blood. 

The first night, he'd taken guard first while Tom slept, and then slept himself in the early morning for a short time. Tonight, Tom had taken guard first. They'd only switched guard duty an hour before. He looked at his watch. They had agreed- five hours of sleep each and then they would need to move on. They'd spent much of yesterday in various different bars, pubs, and eating establishments attempting to gather information on the area and to form a plan.  

A day's worth of gossip and patriotic fervor had convinced them both of one thing. They were in over their heads. Tom understood a little of what was going on around them, due to his love of history- but even he often had a lost and confused frown on his face when he didn't realize anyone was looking. What or WHO they needed to get home was no where to be found. They had ended up arguing their course of action while the city's fireworks display burst overhead. 

Neither one of them liked it, but they needed more concrete information- information that they could only get through files that normal everyday people didn't have access to. They would need to gain access to military information. Tom vaguely recalled reading in a history book about a military installation in Colorado. He couldn't remember what branch of the military operated it (or if it was joint). All he remembered was that it handled things that the general public and the 'normal' military wasn't allowed to know about. Apparently even three centuries later, the information on the place was redacted. 

IF the place existed (and how were they to know if it existed or not till they'd gone there to see?) they would still need to decide if they could afford risking the people of this time to know about their presence.  They would worry about that when they got there. It might not even be an issue. Who knew what reality Q had stuck them in.

Chakotay frowned, his eyes darting toward the blonde man who was once again turning fitfully in his sleep. Tom hadn't slept well the night before either- it was obvious he was having bad dreams, although he hadn't said anything the day before. Chakotay suspected the younger man would keep it to himself unless asked directly.  He would keep an eye on the boy and if it appeared the dreams were going to start causing problems, then he'd ask.  He didn't want to cause any unnecessary discomfort. Tom had been walking on eggshells around him ever since he'd spanked the brat. He'd made certain to carefully obey any direct order and if something wasn't clear, he made sure to ask before he acted. 

Chakotay smiled faintly. He knew it wouldn't last. Eventually, Tom would decide that there was no way Chakotay would ever take him in hand in that manner again; or he would decide that Chakotay didn't have the right to do so and that next time he would stand up for himself; or he'd decide that he didn't want to follow orders and the risk of a tanned butt was worth the disobedience. There were any numerous possibilities but the end result would be the same. Tom would eventually push or test his resolve and he'd have to assert his authority. 

He sighed silently. Maybe, once Tom felt comfortable enough not to be second guessing his every action, he'd be able to broach the subject and find out just why Tom had started to fight his authority in the first place. It truly bothered him that all the progress they'd made- as colleagues and as friends (at least he had thought they were becoming friends) just suddenly disappeared without any obvious reason. Maybe when they reached the installation he'd ask.

He glanced at his watch then settled back in his chair to continue guarding. Three more hours and they would be leaving.

# # #

S.H.I.E.L.D. base somewhere in the Chihuahuan Desert

Loki sighed, stood up from the bed and began to pace back and forth again. The room he'd been placed in wasn't a jail cell. It just felt like one at the moment because he'd been told in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to leave it, unless Barton were with him. That grated on his nerves. It was bad enough that Odin had placed him under the charge of the archer- but to have the mortal's superior officer take that to mean that he could direct Loki's actions was hard to accept. 

He had only listened to Fury's demand because Clint, seeing the defiance form on his face and realizing that he had been about to protest, had made it an order of his own. While he didn't believe Odin's order for the archer to take charge of him meant that he had to obey the archer- he wasn't quite ready to assert his own independence yet. It was easier to just go along with whatever Barton requested without argument until he figured out what it was he needed or wanted to do.

Well, he had figured out one thing he wanted to do. He wanted to figure out where in Hel's realm he was. He'd turned the air conditioning unit in this room down as far as it would go and it still felt as if he were standing in a furnace. Apparently when Odin sent him into exile, he'd put a block on a large portion of his powers.  Oh- he was able to use them- but only at the expense of his own energy. Normally he would self-regulate his own temperature without even thinking about it, but now he not only had to think about it, he had to use a lot of energy to do it.

The more power he used, the more tired he was.  He supposed he should be grateful he figured this out before he attempted a huge spell that would have left him unconscious and at the mercy of whoever happened across his body- he still wasn't entirely sure of Barton and wasn't positive being weak in front of the man wouldn't be a danger. 

Even so, he'd prefer the archers company to being isolated and bored as he was right now. Deciding he'd rather risk Clint's wrath than stay where he was one second more, he opened the door to the room and stepped out.  No one was in this immediate hallway, but he could hear the bustle of people down other halls and in other rooms. He followed the sounds until he came to what appeared to be one of the communications areas. Barton and Fury weren't here, so his questions would have to wait, but it was still interesting to listen to.

One agent to the right was speaking with someone unseen through the head-gear he wore…something about a minor skirmish in Africa. The woman directly behind him was speaking to another unseen person about being positive that a package had been left with another certain someone and they had to find a way to get into that person's house to look for it. The woman directly in front of him and to his left was speaking softly about some strange flu that had cropped up in southern Los Angeles and apparently a few other parts of the world. He frowned. 

How had he ever thought these people weak and in need of domination? He already knew they had the physical capability to stand up for themselves (the Avengers had proven that) but their knowledge and ability to gain knowledge quickly was apparently a lot greater than he'd given them credit for. The Tesseract hadn't just controlled his actions- apparently it had affected his common sense as well. He shook his head and turned to go look for the archer- only to run smack into the imposing form of the director.

"I thought I told you to stay in your room," Fury said softly, the tone of his voice a silky smooth growl.

"I got tired of being by myself." Loki shrugged unapologetically.

Clint, who was standing just behind Fury, sighed. "Right. Mustn't let the child-god get lonely or bored. Who knows what he'd do then…"

Loki, glanced toward the archer, attempting a snide and condescending look. Unfortunately he couldn't hide the hurt that flashed in his eyes at the easy dismissal. Clint, feeling unaccountably guilty at the knowledge he'd hurt the pain-in-the-arse's feelings, winced. "Never mind; just stay by me. No wandering off on your own to places you aren't supposed to be," the archer ordered, motioning Loki to follow him.

Fury narrowed his eye distrustfully, but didn't say anything- allowing Barton to call the shots as far as Loki was concerned. He trusted his agent to keep the menace in line. He had too many other things to be worrying about- he'd not worry about Loki unless Clint was no longer able to do so. 

Loki smiled serenely at the one-eyed man, enjoying the irritated scowl the man leveled on him before he turned and followed Clint out of the communications room.

# # #

New York City, New York

"Natalie!" the lithe redhead turned toward the voice carrying over the street.  Lucy McClane waved back energetically before darting between cars to stand next to her friend and taking Nat's arm companionably. 

Natasha Romanoff managed to avoid pulling free, although the close contact still made her uncomfortable. Natalie Rushman wouldn't pull away, after all, and that is who she was for this assignment. She smiled back at Lucy and hooked her own arm up so that they were holding onto each other instead of just Lucy onto her.

"You are still coming to my dinner party tonight, right? You and Jack, both? You won't let Jack weasel out will you?" Lucy sounded genuinely worried that the two wouldn't show up.

Nat squeezed the other girls arm gently. "Of course we will be there. I won't let Jack back out. I know how important it is for you to have everyone there tonight, including your brother and father. Although, I have to be honest, I did not tell Jack your dad was going to be there. I didn't want him to suddenly come up with other obligations that couldn't be gotten out of…" she gave Lucy a crooked smile.

Lucy’s return smile was exasperated and thankful all at the same time. "Thanks Nat. I owe you one. I'll see you at 7 then!" The other woman quickly turned and headed back down the street, running one of the numerous errands she had to complete before the dinner.

Nat sighed softly. She'd been on this assignment for going on 6 months now. As far as assignments went, it had been rather easy and non-eventful. She had been told to get close to one John 'Jack' McClane, Jr. and then ferret out the location of a file that he had supposedly been given so that she could retrieve it and give it to her superiors. 

Her method of getting close to him had been to get a job working in the same building as his sister Lucy, befriend the other girl, and then get her to introduce her to Jack.  She'd work her charm, begin dating him, and eventually be able to get what she was after. 

That had been the idea anyway. Oh. She had gotten the job and quickly befriended Lucy. And she had gotten Lucy to set her up on a date with Jack. And he had fallen for her charms. That part of the idea went off flawlessly-even going so well that Jack had invited her to share his apartment with him when her apartment lease "suddenly" got broken by her landlord. 

The wrench in the works came when it became apparent that even if Jack had the file, he didn't know he had the file. Whatever it was that he was supposed to have been given had been given to him without his knowledge. And Nat didn't have a clue where to begin looking for it. 

She frowned in irritation, ignoring how various passers-by began hedging around her- the look on her face rather frightening. She'd told her superiors that Jack was one of the good guys and they'd get what they wanted faster if they just told him what they needed. He would no doubt help look for the file and his cooperation and knowledge would have allowed them to find it by now. 

Her bosses didn't want to do that.  She tended to think they got hung up on all the cloak and dagger bull-shit, living vicariously through their agents. If they couldn't be a super-spy, then damn it somebody would be! And telling the mark what it was you wanted and having him hand it to you wasn't cloak and dagger enough. She shook her head and snorted.

It didn't help that Nat actually liked Lucy and Jack. They were good people and she found herself liking them more and more anytime she was with them. It was going to make the inevitable outcome of this assignment all that much harder. Being with the Avengers must have made her soft or something. She had never allowed herself to care about the people in her assignments before (she refused to admit she actually cared about Tony Stark. It would just go to his head.) This time she did. It was regretful, but it was too late to do anything differently now. She sighed softly, then shook herself and headed back to the apartment she was sharing with Jack. Maybe she'd be able to finagle a little more information from him and be able to figure out just what he'd been slipped and where.

# # #

Ranch, just outside of Las Vegas, Nevada

Hermione sat on a bench that had been strategically placed underneath one of the windows facing the front porch. The window was open to let the summer breeze blow in. It was hot out, her tank top stuck to her body like a second skin.  Unfortunately the power in the house had gone out and none of the air-conditioners were working.  She'd been tempted to use a bit of magic to try and "fix" things, but she wouldn't know how to explain it to her relatives and she wasn't certain what the American Ministry of Magic would have to say about her exposing magic to Muggles- family or otherwise. They had called a repairman, but apparently people all over the area were having power outages so they weren't going to be able to get here until later in the evening.

Her Uncle Owen, Colby, and Ian were napping on the front porch- the heat giving them the perfect excuse to be lazy. Her Uncle Wendell had taken her aunt into town to visit one of her friends from church that had come down sick.  Her grandmother was sitting on the porch just beside Hermione's window, next to Lindsey. They were carrying on quiet and polite conversation. 

Her grandmother seemed determined to get to know the man- despite the fact that as soon as they were able, she and Lindsey would be going to the courthouse to annul the mistake they'd made and he would be on his way out of town. She was surprised that the thought of him leaving made her so sad.  Almost as surprised at the knowledge that he had been willing to fight to protect her from her own uncle nearly two nights before.

She blushed faintly, remembering that night. She hadn't been wrong in her assumption of how her uncle planned to address her behavior of the night before. She'd knowingly broken a family rule- one her own father would have disciplined her for. Of course her father would never have disciplined her in the same manner- he tended to rely on removal of privileges and disappointed stern scolding. After overhearing her aunt and uncle talking in the car, she was well aware that the rest of the Granger clan dealt with misbehavior in a more hands on way. 

She'd been very nervous and reluctant, but she'd still followed Uncle Owen. Colby and Ian had paid the piper and she wouldn't attempt to get out of her own dues. Especially since Ian had accepted punishment from her uncle. He wasn't even a member of the family or beholden to follow their rules, and yet he'd accepted the correction. She couldn't in good conscience fight it. 

Uncle Owen hadn't wasted any time. Once in her room, he'd closed the door then sat on her bed. A few short questions to make certain she understood where and what she'd done wrong; an explanation as to how he was going to punish her so that she would understand fully and not be frightened; and the next thing she knew she was laying across his lap, her panties the only protection from his rapidly swatting hand. 

And he was swatting hard! It took a lot of effort for her to keep herself from yelping and crying out with each swat. Despite her promise to herself that she wouldn't fight, they had gotten only three swats in and she wasn't able to keep from squirming or throwing her hand back. Owen had needed to gently tug her more tightly against him so she couldn't move as easily and then taken her hand and held it against the small of her back as he continued to relentlessly spank every inch of her bottom. It had felt like forever, although it had in actuality only been 25 smacks (she'd counted) before the punishment was ended. 

She'd quickly stood, ashamed and embarrassed. She'd righted her clothing, and wiped frantically at her eyes before looking at her Uncle Owen uncertainly- hoping that everything between them was OK. His open arms were all the invitation she'd needed. She'd moved quickly into his embrace for a forgiving hug. She only reluctantly stepped back out of his hug when they'd heard the yelling. They'd stared at each other in confusion for a few seconds before they both ran out of the bedroom and back down the hall toward the kitchen.

Hermione couldn't help snort in exasperated fondness as she remembered having to push her way through Uncle Wendell, Aunt Monica, Colby, and Ian.  She wasn't certain what any of them had been thinking. It was obvious what Lindsey was thinking- as he was yelling it nearly at the top of his lungs at her grandmother. Nana, bless her, had kept her temper and somehow that was enough to keep the younger man in place.  By the time Lindsey had reached a point of not being willing to let Nana stop him, Hermione had finally gotten past her relatives and stopped him herself.  

It was sweet really- that he'd been willing to fight her family in order to protect her from what he thought was abuse. It was also very sweet that once he had seen her for himself and heard her explanations, he'd gone from wanting to protect her to wanting things to be fair for her. That in itself was enough to make her want more time to get to know him better. The fact that he'd submitted to Nana's punishment without fighting- whatever his reasons for not doing so-  was the last thing that was needed to convince her that Lindsey McDonald was someone special. 

Hermione's musings were interrupted when she heard Nana ask a question. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but she couldn't help herself. Her Nana had the bravery that only the very old have- able to ask impertinent questions and expect answers. Hermione would never have the nerve to ask the things her Nana might ask- and she really did want to get to know Lindsey better. She tried to hold very still and breathe very quietly so as not to miss any of the conversation.

# # #

Lindsey leaned back in the rocking chair and stared down the long gravel drive toward where the main road leading into the city was. He couldn't believe he'd been here two nights already.  Two nights of quiet; two nights of peace; two nights of companionship that didn't expect anything from him other than for him to just be. Whatever had bothered Hermione's Uncle Owen, or her cousin and his friend, had evidently been set aside. Lindsey knew he had Nana to thank for that. The diminutive old lady had more power with one word, than most had with all their money, influence, or anything really. He knew he didn't have any power against her.

The 4th of July had been spent lazing around the house until it was almost dinner time. Then the whole family- including Lindsey- had piled into Owen's rather large all-terrain (it had been a tight fit and Hermione had ended up sitting on his lap amid teasing from her cousin). They'd gone into the small town close to the ranch, rather than Vegas, and watched the volunteer fire department's contribution to the holiday in the form of fireworks. Lindsey couldn't say he'd seen a better display- although he had to admit it was mostly the company. 

When he'd awoken this morning, he'd called the courthouse immediately. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that the courthouse was still closed.  He was glad to have the chance to continue to be around this family- it had been so long since he'd felt included or wanted in a family. The fact that he was so glad to have such a chance scared him. He couldn't afford to want things like this. Even if he was no longer tied to Wolfram and Hart, there was always the chance that they'd step back into his life and ruin everything. It's just what they did. He needed to leave before he became too attached.

Lindsey sighed softly. Who was he kidding? He was already too attached. Saying goodbye was going to hurt, no matter if it was for the best. He smiled sheepishly when Nana turned toward him after hearing the sigh.

"Penny for your thoughts…" she said casually, leaving the way clear for him to make up a story or say nothing, but also making it clear that she truly wanted to know what he was thinking. 

Lindsey kept the sheepish smile on his face, even as he stared back down the road again and tried to think of a way to answer her without laying his soul bare. "Just thinking how I'll miss this place when I move on. It's peaceful…" he finally admitted.

Nana hmmmed softly. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she rocked gently. Her words were soft, but carried with the breeze. "You know you don't have to leave immediately.  Just because your reason for staying so long will have been taken care of, doesn't mean you have to leave. I know I'd be happy for you to stick around a bit longer."

"That's kind of you," Lindsey said hesitantly, "but I feel like I've put you and your family out enough…"

"Haven't put us out at all!" Nana protested in amused exasperation. "Colby and Ian have one more week before they head back to work. Same with Owen. Hermione heads back to England a couple of days after they all leave. Pretty soon the only ones that will be left are Wendell, Monica, and I. And as much as I love my son and my daughter-in-law…it gets boring telling my stories to people who've already heard them thousands of times."

Lindsey snorted, then blushed because he snorted. Nana grinned impishly.

"Humor an old lady and at least stay till everyone else leaves…" she cajoled.

Lindsey, bit his lip then nodded against his better judgment. "OK. I'll stay till Hermione leaves…" he finally agreed.

# # #

Cheap motel outside of Los Angeles, California

Dean frowned as his listened to Castiel's explanations of why he had disappeared and what he had been doing. Cas had felt a disturbance. His friend seemed convinced that something bad had occurred, but he couldn't pin point exactly what 'it' was. He just knew it had something to do with all those people that had suddenly started popping up sick with the 'flu' over the 4th. And so he had gone to visit one of those sick people.

Cas had described the patient as resembling a several days old corpse. That in itself was disturbing, but according to Cas the last intelligible word the girl had muttered before falling into incoherent moans and growling was the name 'Prescott'. She'd then attacked his friend. Cas had barely avoided getting bitten- he had been scratched rather badly. The edges of the wound were blackish- almost rotten looking.

"Why didn't you wait until I could go with you? Better yet, why didn't you tell me about your plans in the first place?" Dean frowned, worry about his friend adding an edge of irritation to his voice. 

Cas just placidly blinked and shrugged as if he was giving the weather. "I did not want you to get sick. We do not know how this illness is spread. As an angel, I am immune to the illnesses that plague humanity…"

Dean narrowed his eyes and pointed at the oozing scratch on his friends hand. "That doesn't look like you're immune to me." 

Cas frowned down at the offending appendage. "No. It…is affecting me. But not like it did the poor girl who was sick. I can tell that it won't kill me and the wound itself will be healed in a day or so; longer than it usually would take, but not that long.  I don't believe I am infectious… there are differences in what I observed of her and what I observe in myself."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not worried about you infecting me. From what you've described, it can only be transferred through exchanging bodily fluid. Since I don't plan to French Kiss you, I think I'm safe." Dean laughed softly at his own crude humor.

"I believe I have located two of the three disturbances. I believe it is imperative that we go to where they are at and see if they can shed light on what is going on." Cas stated.

Dean sighed. "Yeah. OK.  Well," he picked up his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder before picking up Cas' s bag. "Let me load up my baby and we can be on our way."

"No need!" Cas suddenly put two fingers to his forehead. The next thing Dean knew they were standing inside what appeared to be a base of some sort and he was about to face-plant from the sudden vertigo of his body being relocated too quickly.

"Damn it, Cas!" he groused, irritably.

# # #

S.H.I.E.L.D. base

Cas ignored Dean's griping. He was worried, though he did not want Dean to see the worry. The trip shouldn't have tired him at all, and yet he was weary. So weary, he was finding it difficult to keep himself and Dean hidden from the rest of the humanity swarming around this installation. Luckily for them, difficult was not impossible. Even so, while Cas had thought he'd done a good job of hiding his condition from Dean, apparently he hadn't done as good a job as he thought.

"Whatever sickness she had- it's affecting you, isn't it?" Cas could hear the underlying worry in his friend's gruff tone.

"I am not ill…." Cas argued softly, attempting to feel which direction he needed to go next.

"I didn't say you were ill," Dean retorted. "I said you were affected. I can tell that little trip you just took us on has seriously worn you out. Normally that wouldn't happen. It's affecting you." It was a statement, not a question, and Cas decided not to deny it. It was true after all.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the lack of denial. "No more trips like that Cas. Until you're over whatever got done to you. We'll walk or take a cab or any number of things. You won't be zipping us all over the place any longer. I mean it." Dean's voice was firm and full of promise of retribution if Cas ignored him.

Cas didn't answer. He understood an order when he heard it. Too bad for Dean, he had no intentions of following that order. He wasn't sure why, but he had this feeling that he had to get the two disturbances into one area. The only way to do that was by zipping everyone around, as Dean would say.

He was beginning to pray that he'd find who or what he was looking for quickly- the longer they were in this installation, the greater the chance that they'd be found out. He was feeling weaker by the second, using so much energy to keep them cloaked. He was about to begin pleading and begging in the prayers when he finally saw him. The man wore all black, in some type of form fitting ensemble that resembled armor, yet not. He also had a cloak and carried a helm. This source of one of the disturbances stood next to a shorter man who also seemed to be wearing a uniform of sorts and carried a bow.

He took Dean's arm and motioned him to be quiet, before carefully walking up to the taller man. To his surprise, the man turned and looked straight at him. "What do you want?" Loki asked suspiciously.

Clint turned to look in the same direction as the demi-god. He didn't see anything, but his senses were telling him they were being watched. He reached out a hand and grasped the frost-giant's arm just as Castiel reached out with his free hand (he had not released Dean) and also grasped Loki.

# # #

Phoenix Arizona

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean fumed. "I just ordered you, not more than 30 minutes ago, NOT to do that!"  

Dean dropped his and Castiel's bags on the ground before rounding on his friend, intent on letting him know just how displeased he was. The first thing he noticed was Cas laying on the ground, curled up in the fetal position, wincing and swallowing as if trying not to throw up. "Aw, Cas…" Dean sighed in sympathetic worry and knelt down next to the angel so that he could check him over and make sure he was OK. Cas would just have to experience his wrath from the disobedience later.

The second thing he noticed- and it only warranted a few moments notice because he needed to help Cas- was that they were in a different cheap motel room than the one they had been in before Cas zipped them around the first time. And there were two other men giving them suspicious looks.

The third thing he noticed- and it DID warrant more than a few seconds of attention due to the fact that it involved a weapon- was that the tall guy wearing all black and the shorter guy with the bow were also in the cheap motel room. And Mr. Bow was way beyond suspicious if the way he had an arrow notched and pointed at Dean and Cas was any indication.

"Uh…give me a few seconds to get him where he is able to talk, and we can explain?" Dean tried for calm and conciliatory. Of course it just came out sounding irritated and like a smart-arse. He huffed as every eye in the room narrowed on him. "Seriously. He's the one with the answers. If you don’t mind?" he motioned at the bed that was closest to him, and was relieved when the two men blocking it moved out of the way.

Heaving Cas up off the floor and then carefully putting him on the bed, Dean surreptitiously held the back of his hand against Cas's forehead to check for fever. There wasn't one; yet. Leaning over, he whispered in his friend's ear, "you just wait till you're able to stand without falling, again. My hand and your butt are going to have a wonderful time getting acquainted." He smirked when Cas whimpered in response.

Standing up, he faced the other four people. "OK. I guess I'll do introductions. I'm Dean. This immobile wretch…who really needs to follow orders…" Dean glared at the angel. "…Is Castiel."


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