Damn Hurt/Comfort Writers!

[sasha_dragon]

 Title: Damn Hurt/Comfort Writers!
Word Count: 12160. (Some days I just can’t help myself)
Rating: PG-13, language and gratuitous abuse of hot guys
Summary:  Sam Winchester wakes up in a cell and he is not alone.  He is sharing his cell with Alec Hardison and Peter Burke, with Dean, Eliot Spencer and Neal Caffrey missing. He realizes that they have been taken by the most heinous force in the universe....Fan Girls!
Pairing: None, but there is a cast of the hottest men in various fandom’s
Disclaimer:  I don’t own Supernatural, Leverage or White Collar, because if I did...Neal would be painting my bedroom wall half naked, Eliot would be in the corner playing his guitar...as for Dean...did I mention bedroom? Oh yes please don’t sue.
Warnings:  This is very possibly a crack fic, well anyone who puts Fan Fic writers in the middle of a hurt/comfort fic...go figure.
Notes:   This act of insanity was born simply because I wanted to try and write Sam and Dean in character, then it sort of got hijacked by the other guys and this idea has been used before by better writers than me.  But I’m sorry I had to do it.  As always many thanks to my wonderful beta bigj52.

 

 

 

Consciousness swept over Sam Winchester in a wave, one minute he had been blissfully oblivious to the world and the next he was suddenly, shockingly awake. He leapt to his full impressive height, turning in a slow circle with only one thought on his mind...”Dean...Dean...Damnit Dean, where the fuck are you?”  He let the panic that had been rising in his gut subside as he assessed the room where he was imprisoned.

Plain concrete walls greeted him, the cell was surprisingly large. In one corner there appeared to be a crude toilet which made his gut lurch, especially when he looked down and saw the mattresses, blankets and pillows on the floor.  Shit, it looked like he could be here for the long haul. Now if he could only figure out where his big brother was. 

It was then Sam realized he wasn’t alone in the room; there were two other men with him.  Sam also counted how many mattresses there were, six in all, so who were the other two? He knew instinctively that Dean was here somewhere. 

Again he fought down the urge to start hammering on the door, screaming for his brother. He thought he should see who the other guests were.  Sam cautiously approached the men, one was a white man in his forties, wearing a suit that just screamed Fed and the other was a young, black man.  Sam looked closely at the black man; there was something familiar about him but he just couldn’t place him at the moment. 

The first to come round was the white man; he tried to sit up quickly but whatever drug had been used to knock them out was still having an effect and he slumped back down. 

“Oh, dear God! I don’t remember drinking that much. Neal, if you roofied my drink again you are going straight back to jail.”  The man groaned and he looked up at Sam hovering over him, it took a few seconds for him to focus. “You’re not Neal. Hell, where’s he gone now. Damn! This always happens. Hi, I’m Agent Peter Burke of the F.B.I White Collar Unit and you are?”  Peter had by now managed to sit up and was concentrating on Sam. 

Before Sam could respond there was another groan. Both men looked at their companion with concern, the man’s eyes opened, looked up at the ceiling then slammed shut.  He put his hands on his eyes and rubbed at them vigorously, “Damnit Eliot, if this is your idea of a good time then I ain’t enjoying it. Shit! Wasn’t the damn fishing trip enough?”  When he didn’t get an answer he opened his eyes and suddenly saw the looming figure of Sam. 

He let out a squeak of terror, sat up and scooted along the wall, “Now look, man, I ain’t done nothing wrong. Well, nothing that you can prove.  Now, why don’t you let me go before my friends come looking for me and it will be cool....? By the way, dude, have we met before? You look real familiar.”   

Sam smiled at the nervous man and decided to introduce himself, “Hi, my name is Sam Winchester and this is Agent Peter Burke and I don’t know where the hell we are, and I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Oh hi, I’m Alec Hardison and I don’t suppose you’ve seen a short guy with long hair and a real bad attitude, have you? Only we were on a job and we kinda need to get back to it.”  Sam noticed that Alec kept putting his hand to his ear and waggling it. An unpleasant idea began to form and Sam swallowed hard. 

“Oh God, no, not again. Look, are you missing a communication device? My phone is gone and so are my weapons. Can you please check yourselves?”  Sam watched as Peter and Alec frantically patted themselves down. 

Alec was cursing softly when he discovered all means of communication were gone as were Peter’s, along with his gun and his back-up piece.  Sam sighed and he sat down on one of the mattresses, it was time to confirm his worst suspicions. 

“So Alec, you and this Eliot were working a job? Peter, you and Neal too? By any chance could your line of work be deemed heroic?”  Sam watched two faces, Peter remained perplexed but Alec was beginning to turn green. 

“Ah damn, not again. Nate will kill me, the last time this happened it took weeks to put Eliot back together.”  Alec let his head fall back and whimpered.

 Peter was looking from one man to another, “What the hell are you two on about? My partner and I were on the verge of bringing down a multinational art fraud ring, the leader of which had just kidnapped my dear wife. Oh God, Elizabeth!”  Peter leapt to his feet; Sam stood up wearily and stopped him from bashing his brains out against the door. 

“Hey, Peter. If I promise to explain will you stop trying to kill yourself, and don’t worry about Elizabeth, she’ll be fine.” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed, “What! Are you two in on this? Just tell me where she is. I’ll do anything!” 

Sam patted the distraught man on the arm and sat him back down, “Well, Alec, where were you and Eliot when this happened?”  Sam made himself comfortable. He knew they could be in for a long wait and he was looking forward to seeing how Peter would react to the news. 

“Well, my team was just about to finish a con against an arms dealer who sidelines in human trafficking.  When Eliot and me went bye-byes and dude, are you sure about this? Because some of those girls are downright nasty.”   Alec looked pleadingly at Sam, 

Sam just shook his head and sighed, “Nope, I think you got it. Dean and me were just about to take out a nest of vampires when it all went dark. Judging by the fact Dean is missing, I’d say there’s at least a bunch of ‘Dean’ girls out there. Crap! I just hope Bobby’s cleaned out the panic room. “ 

Peter looked at them as if they were insane, “What the hell are you two on about? My wife’s in danger, my partner’s missing and you two are talking ‘Dean’ girls and vampires, and by the way, grifting is a felony.” With that, he went quiet. 

Sam looked at Alec, “Do you want to  tell him or shall I?”  Alec licked his lips and started to talk. 

“Listen, Peter. Don’t ask me how to explain this, but out there is a world with something called fan girls and some of them write what we call Fan Fiction.  The worst ones are the hurt/comfort writers.  In those Fics, someone gets the shit beat out of them, and somebody else does the comforting.  Now every so often me and Eliot find ourselves in situations like this, and believe me, it can get real nasty.”  Alec went quiet so Sam took up the story. 

“Our friend, Bobby calls it the fourth wall; somewhere out there is an alternative universe and sometimes the wall is thin enough for these girls to directly affect our lives.  I mean, normally we would never meet. I guess Alec and I would stay the hell away from the F.B.I, no offense.  It looks like a group of them have gotten together and are working with one another.  I take it this your first time. It happens to me and Dean quite a lot in our line of work, we take it as part of the job.  I just hope to God that we’ve been taken by either Alec’s arms dealer, or your international art fraudster, or better yet, a bunch of starving vamps.  The alternative is just way too horrific to contemplate” 

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. Wonderful! He was locked up with two lunatics.  That was all he needed, “So why aren’t you worried about your friends? I’m worried about Neal.” 

“For a start, it’s my brother and yes, I’m damn worried about him. You have no idea what these fan girls can be capable of. I’ve been on the receiving end of some of these little parties.  I wouldn’t even wish it on my worst enemy...ok, maybe Ruby, but that’s not the point.  Look, just trust us and wait for them to bring the others back. ” Sam glared at Peter and saw Alec shake his head in wry amusement. 

They sat in silence after that. Sam was fidgeting. It was taking too long, and finally he got up and began to rearrange the room. “What are you doing?” Peter asked. 

Sam dragged two of the mattresses side by side. He saw Alec get with the programme and he did the same, “Look, Peter. Whether you believe me or not, you will want to be near your friend, Neal when he gets back, so it might be better to do this now rather than with him lying on it.” 

Peter watched the other two men make up rudimentary beds. He was worried, they seemed too calm. Actually, ‘calm’ was the wrong word; more like resigned to what was happening.  He stood up, took off his suit jacket and got to work, so his part of the cell mirrored the other two.  The beds side by side, not too close but close enough for someone to sit in vigil over the  ‘victim’. He was aware Sam and Alec were talking. 

“So, what are you, man? Some kind of cop in a weird-ass police division I ain’t ever heard of?”  Alec looked at Sam curiously.  Sam shook his head at Alec. 

“No, Dean and me are what are known as hunters. Short version - if it goes bump in the night we kill it. Or, according to Dean - if it’s female and hot, I’ll fall in love with it, have to kill it and spend the next six months angsting over it.  So what are you guys, con men or what?” 

Alec was grinning at him, “Oh, we’re con men alright but we right wrongs so to speak; you got a problem the law can’t solve and you come to us.  That arms dealer was just going to find out if orange suited him.”

 Sam nodded, “Sort of modern-day Robin hoods then. By the way, this Eliot... is he prone to being overprotective with added self-sacrificing tendencies?” 

Alec laughed, “Oh, hell yeah, he’s our hitter. Look, I’m the group’s hacker, Parker’s our thief, Sophie is the grifter and Nate, well, he’s the brains.  Your brother a bit overprotective, then?” 

Sam just rolled his eyes, “Oh, don’t get me started, and I’ve had to patch him up more times than I want to remember.  A lot of them were because he got between me and the damn fugly that was trying to kill me.”  Both men looked at Peter.

“If you’re going to ask is Neal the derring-do type, then I’ll have to disappoint you. He uses his brains more than brawn.  Although, he does have his moments of stupidity like Eliot and Dean, and I can’t even believe I’m discussing this.” 

Sam considered this and looked at Peter, “Quietly heroic, prone to being sensitive and vulnerable under a veneer of supreme confidence. No doubt - a hit with the ladies. Perhaps single minded and even though he’s a criminal, fairly noble with a strict code. Am I close?” 

Peter whistled, “Are you sure you’ve never met Neal? Anyway, say I believe your story, what do we do now? Just sit and wait, or what?”  Peter could feel his frustration with the situation rising 

Alec stretched and yawned, “I hate to say it but yeah, that’s it, man. We need to ask whoever comes back first some questions.  Then we’ll know what we’re up against. What time do you think they’ll feed us? After all, they’ll want us to keep our strength up.  You can’t angst and mop fevered brows on an empty stomach.” 

Just then the door flew open and the three men leapt to their feet. Two huge men stepped just inside with their hands resting on tazers on their belts. First of all, food and drink was brought in and placed by the door, then came a pile of medical supplies. These were delivered by women; they wore dark clothes and ski masks to hide their identity, the Henchmen’s faces were exposed in all their brutish glory. 

Finally two more Henchmen came in, dragging a limp figure between them.   The men dropped the figure on the floor and then a jacket and tie were thrown in and the door slammed shut. Peter gave a strangled cry of “Neal?” Then Sam leapt into action. 

He knelt down and felt for a pulse. It was nice and strong and he heard a faint moaning. Even better, he was coming round, “Peter, help me get him on the bed. See, I told you it wasn’t a waste of time.” 

As Peter helped Sam move Neal he looked at him and spoke, “Fan girls! Did you see the size of those gorillas! I’m telling you this is to do with Elizabeth. Neal, come on. I need to talk to you. Wake up.” 

Neal’s blue eyes fluttered open and he squinted up at Peter, “Damn! It wasn’t a nightmare then. I really did just spend the last couple of hours being beaten.”  Peter looked down at Neal in concern, his normally immaculate appearance was now a distant memory, and his shirt was torn and dirty. Neal was sporting some very fetching bruises.  Neal noticed that he and Peter were not the only occupants of the room. 

“Peter, who are our new friends? And why is the really large one holding my hand and looking at me as if I’m about to die?”  Sam looked down at his hand realizing that he was indeed holding Neal’s hand. He let go suddenly but just before he could introduce himself the door slammed open again. 

Sam stood up, along with Peter and Alec; once again the thugs appeared. Peter muttered, “Am I detecting a theme here?” As he said that another dishevelled figure was dragged in the room and dumped unceremoniously on the floor in a heap. 

“Damnit, Eliot! What the hell has happened to you this time?”  Alec knelt by his friend. By comparison Neal looked positively untouched. Eliot’s shirt was in tatters and the bruising to his face and body was more pronounced.  Alec tried to lift the unconscious hitter, but after a couple of attempts he looked at Sam.  “Don’t just stand there. Help me! This dude’s heavy, it’s all the damn muscle he’s got, along with his attitude, they weigh a ton.”  Sam helped Alec move Eliot, and settled him on the bed. Sam was just about to talk to Neal when he heard...

 “Hardison, if you don’t take your damn hand off my forehead you’ll lose fingers. Move it.”  The hand that had been resting on his forehead was speedily removed.

 “Ah, now don’t be like that, Eliot, I was just being comforting.  You lie there and take it easy for a second.  I think you may need to.”  As soon as Alec finished, Eliot sat bolt upright and fixed Sam with the most aggressive pair of blue eyes Sam had ever seen.  The only time he’d ever seen a look like that before was on Dean when he was being threatened.  Sam stepped back and tried to look non-threatening, which, when you’re six foot four and built like a brick outhouse and hunt demons for a living, is impossible. 

Alec put his hand on Eliot’s arm, flinching at the tension he felt there, “Now, play nicely, Eliot. Look, these guys are in the same boat as us. That guy you’re frying with the glare of death is Sam, the nervous-looking fed is Peter and the guy on the floor looking like you is Neal.  Hey dude, have you seen another guy while you were having your workout?” 

Eliot relaxed slightly. Alec’s little intro had downgraded the three men from target to possible targets. He looked at Alec and frowned, “Shit, there is another one of us? Ah crap, that must have been the poor bastard next door to me.” 

On hearing those words Sam folded down onto his bed, put his head into his hands and moaned.  “I knew it; I damn well knew it. We’ve been taken by a bunch of hurt\comfort writers. Ahhh, shit!” 

Eliot looked startled, “What again? Shit! How come I’m the one getting the crap beaten out of him? I thought at the very least it was your turn, Hardison.”   Eliot’s head fell forward and he sighed. 

Peter had sat down by Neal, Neal looked at him puzzled, “Well, Neal, we seem to have fallen through the looking glass. According to these gentlemen we have been kidnapped by a group of crazed fan girls who write stories about us and.....” Before Peter could continue.

 “Oh shit! So that’s what that typing was when I was being beaten and I wondered why nothing got broken.  Peter, you can’t beat somebody for that long without serious damage and all I’ve got is a few bruises and slightly-torn shirt.” 

Peter sat staring opened mouthed at the con man, “I’ve spent most of my life stealing antiquities, you get to hear things on your travels and I’ve heard of this before.  And I’m sure I heard a woman’s voice say something about me being pretty when I got dirtied up.  So then, who are we waiting for?” 

Sam looked up mournfully, “My brother, Dean. God, I hope he’s alright. By the looks of you two, I dread to think what Dean’s gonna look like.”  Just then the door opened and once more Henchman one and two appeared. This time when the body was dragged in, the gorilla holding it stood waiting.  Sam stood up cautiously and suddenly found his brother’s battered form being thrust into his arms. 

The door closed and Sam staggered under Dean’s dead weight. He realized that Eliot was beside him and between them they got Dean onto the bed.  He lay unmoving, Sam by his side, Eliot and Alec stood on one side of the bed and Peter and Neal the other. 

Sam was doing a quick inventory, “Ok, cuts and bruises. Oh, look, a black eye! They just love those on Dean; they think it brings out the colour of his eyes. Oh yes; another old favourite as well; a dislocated left shoulder. Ah well, the classics are always the best.”  Sam was just about to put Dean’s shoulder back in place before he came to, when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. 

“Sammy, are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”  The voice was low and rasping as if the man had been screaming, the aforementioned eyes flew open and darted round his surroundings. He glared at the men standing over him. 

“I have to say they’re right. It really does make his eyes a striking shade of green, that and the pale-green shirt he’s wearing.”  Neal commented and he became aware of five pairs of eyes looking at him, “What I’m just saying is - his clothes are in better shape than mine and Eliot’s.” 

Sam frowned at Neal and looked back at his brother; he was sure Dean had been wearing a plaid shirt earlier today, but there was no way on earth he was asking Dean about that. He couldn’t stand the ridicule.  Dean struggled to sit up “And where the hell do you think you’re going?”  Sam’s tone was exasperated as his brother moved. 

Dean tilted his head back and smirked “Well, I was going to ask the nice girls outside to put my shoulder back as you guys seem a little preoccupied with my fashion choices. So, if it’s alright with you, Tyra, I’d like to be able to feel my fingers again.” 

Eliot snorted with laughter. Hell, he could get on with this guy! The noise made Dean turn his head to look at him.  Dean took in his appearance and gave him a wink then he looked at Alec “Dude, have we met before? I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”  Alec shook his head and Dean gave a one-shouldered shrug, hissing as it jostled the injured shoulder.

 “Ok Francis, whenever you’re ready and then you can fill me in on what’s happening, ‘cause dude, I ain’t happy. We just lost a nest of Edward wannabes.”  Dean slowly moved his left hand out to Sam. 

Sam took a careful hold, figuring out the best way to do this. Eliot crouched down by Dean, tapped him on his shoulder. Dean looked at him gratefully and he wrapped his right arm round Eliot, as Eliot braced himself against Dean so Sam could pop the joint back. 

Peter was gaping in astonishment at the scene unfolding, “Don’t tell me you’re just gonna yank his arm back? What about doctors? More importantly, what about drugs?”  Neal took Peter’s arm and moved him back gently, Peter noticed Alec doing the same.

 Sam gave his brother an apologetic look as he straightened the arm and gently moved it back and forth until he felt the joint give a little; right now it was time to apply the right pressure. As Sam placed his boot on Dean’s ribs and got ready to pull, he decided to take Dean’s mind off the operation. “After all you’ve seen, Peter, which part of hurt/comfort fan girls did you not get?”  As he said that Dean’s head snapped round, looking at him in horror and Sam pulled sharply and rotated Dean’s arm till he felt it slip back into place. 

Eliot held on, making Sure Dean stayed still, once he felt the shock of the arm returning to its socket. He let go, Dean curled forward, panting.  “Son of a bitch! Sammy, tell me you didn’t say fan girls. Please tell me you didn’t say that.” The voice was muffled, coming as it did from somewhere by his knees.   

Sam was kneeling by Dean and was slowly rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder, trying to get him to relax. Finally Dean sat up and looked at him, his face pale, and the freckles standing out starkly on his skin.  Peter was shocked at how quiet Dean had been during Sam’s less than gentle ministrations.  He gazed round the room, utterly confused and Dean looked up at him, smiled, “So I guess this is your first hoedown, so to speak. Pull up a mattress. I can braid Sam’s hair and we can figure out what we’re gonna do next.” 

They all sat down. Sam got as close to Dean as he dared without him growling “Dude, seriously, have you been taking personal space lessons from Cas again?”  They all sat looking at one another until finally, Peter began to talk. 

“Ok, I believe you. There is some deranged magical force at work here, so what now? What happens next? I mean, what do these girls usually do? Someone help me out here.” 

Alec took pity on him, “Well, they usually get bored after a couple of days whumping the shit out of ya. We tend to get mysteriously rescued and spend a shit load of time getting over it.  But like Neal said, they beat on him for a couple of hours without too much damage.  Look, they like to take their time with us; you can’t have the hurt without comfort.   You know someone being wept over and their broken bodies cuddled against manly chests, and besides if you squish ‘em to a pulp too soon, there’s no fun in that.” Alec gave a pained smile. 

“Or then again the ‘Hurt Neal’ girl is a newbie and didn’t want to push it too far. I think mine was a little more experienced, didn’t mind a little bit more blood.  What about you, Dean. How are you?” Eliot turned to the other injured man. 

Dean was holding his left arm against his chest. He gave a lopsided smile, tried to straighten then went a little paler, “I’m fine.”  His voice was still a little hoarse. 

Sam rolled his eyes, “Excuse Dean, his definition of ‘fine’ is still having all his limbs attached. Broken bones and dislocations don’t count.”  Alec sat and nodded in agreement, pointing at Eliot as he did. 

Peter wasn’t finished, “But how do they get into this? What motivates them? And does this mean I’m going to be spending the next few days hugging Neal and telling him everything will be alright? As much as I like the guy, I don’t want to go there with the PDA’S.”   

Dean and Eliot laughed at that, Neal turned to Peter, “And I love you too, Peter. Don’t worry if things get too bad, I’ll ask Sam to hold my hand again.” 

Dean slapped Sam on the leg, “Why Sammy, you sly dog! And I bet you didn’t even buy him dinner first.”  Sam coughed and flushed bright red. 

He ignored Dean to answer Peter’s question “Bobby thinks it’s a way some of them relieve tension in their lives, either at school, or work, they take out their frustrations on someone else.  Anything can contribute to how bad things get.....” Sam went quiet and Dean had stiffened beside him. 

Alec nodded wisely, “Me an’ him went through three days with one who had just had a bad appraisal at work. Damn! Eliot was in traction for a week after, and I thought Nate was gonna have a stroke.  What’s the worst one you guys have had?” 

Sam lifted his head, his eyes fixed on the wall behind Alec and Eliot. As he spoke his voice shook, “Let’s see...the worst, she was a ‘Hurt Dean’ girl, who had just been dumped by her boyfriend... had PMS and her cat had been run over by the boyfriend as he left the house....” The other men watched as Dean shivered, turned his head into his brother’s shoulder.  His right hand was fisted in the material of Sam’s shirt in a white-knuckled grip, and he was whimpering softly.  Sam absently slipped his arm round Dean and held him until the whimpering stopped. 

Peter was terrified. What the hell could reduce a guy like Dean to that? For God’s sake, he hadn’t made a sound when his brother had nearly pulled his arm off, and yet look at him now.  Sam seemed to snap out of his horror-induced reverie and looked round the room.  He checked Dean had stopped rocking, and he gave the others a shaky smile, “Put it this way. Some of the girls have a very strange idea of hurt/comfort. All I’m saying is I’ll never be able to watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show ever again.” 

Peter took his courage in his hands and decided he needed more information. “I have to ask a couple of things. First of all, how come you didn’t try to escape? And how the hell do these women control what’s happening?”

 Dean looked at him and gave the smirk he’d seen earlier. “Oh, trust me; escaping is a real bad idea. Put it like this. That fun filled week we had, me and Sam tried it.  Shit! It was like the hardcore edition of all the ‘Saw’ movies put together with the scenes that were deleted for being too graphic.  As for how the ladies control what happens, I don’t suppose any of you guys heard typing did you? Every damn time it happens I swear I can hear the sound of a keyboard.” 

While they had been talking Neal had been plotting their way out of this mess. By the sounds of it an escape attempt could lead to a fate worse than death, then he thought about the whole comfort side of the equation, and an idea formed.

 “Gentlemen, I think I may have our way out of here. Look! Attempting to escape will only result in excruciating pain. How about we convince the ladies to let us go?”  Sam gaped at Neal, Eliot rolled his eyes and Alec fell over laughing.  Dean was the only one interested in what Neal said. 

“I’m all ears, dude. Hell, I don’t need to find out how loud I can scream. I already know that.  Besides, some of them have a bad habit of being bi-brother hurters and I’m not risking putting Sam through that.” 

Sam rolled his eyes “Damn it, Dean! How many more times? I’m not a kid. I can take it.”  Sam glared at his older brother who cheerfully ignored him. 

“I know you can, Sasquatch, but I’m not sure my back can cope with carrying your heavy ass out of here. So come on, Neal, amaze us all.” 

“I’m guessing that these fan girls not only enjoy the physical angst, but also the emotional angst as well. I mean, all the distress of looking after an injured friend or sibling, coupled with not knowing what will happen next has got to be manna from Heaven for them. Am I right?” 

Alec nodded, “Oh, Hell yeah! If they can get you to cry or hold the other one’s hand it makes their day.” 

Eliot butted in, “Believe me, he bawls like a baby. The last time I could barely hear myself think over the blubbing. How about you two? Same pattern?”

 Sam sighed and Dean went bright red and found the floor extremely interesting, “Oh, they just love bringing on that particular man-pain for us; they just love it if we cry.  Especially Dean. That seems to cause spontaneous combustion amongst them.” 

Peter had to know “Why? What’s the difference between you two crying?” 

Dean sighed and gave in, “Well, Sam looks like a snot monster and I....well, I....”  Dean went even redder. 

“Oh, Dean manages a perfect single tear and he never looks snotty, even when he’s sobbing his damn heart out.  It’s just not fair!”  Sam pouted as he said that, unaware he was being stared at by the others. 

It took Neal a few seconds to recover from that outburst, “Well, that’s it then. We know emotional angst weakens them. Now all we have to do is figure out which is the Alpha fan girl here and there’s the weapon.” 

“Alpha fan girl? I gotta admit we’re used to them traveling in packs and tag teaming us, they kind of egg each other on, but I’ve never been in this situation with other guys before. So you think there is a ‘Neal’ girl, ‘Eliot’ girl and ‘Dean’ girl out there?” Dean commented, awestruck

 There was a moment of horrified silence at the prospect. Neal shook himself and continued, “Look, it makes sense and one of them is in charge. All we got to do is figure out which one it is and aim our attack at her.”

 Eliot was beginning to get behind this plan. Damn! It was better than listening to Hardison’s usual litany of “Don’t die, Eliot...please don’t die...I don’t wanna have to tell Parker, Sophie or Nate I got you killed, don’t die, dude.” 

“So Neal, how can we tell which one’s the brains of this particular little fun factory?”  Eliot was intrigued. 

“Well, it’s a simple process of elimination. Figure out which one of us is the most badly hurt.  I think mine is new to this, well, I’m pretty ok and the typing was somewhat hesitant.” 

Eliot nodded enthusiastically, “I get ya, ok then, pretty much covered in bruises, and a couple of cracked ribs and my right ankle’s sprained.   I’m sure they passed the keyboard along to one another, ‘cause I heard the slow typing from where they must have had you.  Mine had a pretty good rhythm going, a little prone to over describing.  Then it moved on, and the sound coming from that room was like a fucking machine gun.” Eliot stopped talking and his blue eyes focused intently on Dean.

 In fact, every pair of eyes was focused on Dean who was finding the wall behind Eliot utterly absorbing. Sam growled at his brother, “Dean, what are you hiding? They had you way too long for just a black eye and dislocated shoulder. Come on, spill.” 

Dean looked back stubbornly, “Nothing Sam. I’m fine. Nothing else happened and I did my shoulder ‘cause I was strung up by my wrists. Now can we concentrate on Neal’s plan?” 

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Dean, checking for his usual tells when he was in pain and trying to hide it; the line between the eyebrows- check, avoiding Sam’s eyes - check, the distraction techniques...bingo!  “Ok Dean, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Where else are you hurt?” 

Alec had been watching, fascinated, as the brothers had interacted. So much was being said without words.  “So what’s the easy way, then?” Alec asked, enjoying the show; Dean shot him a threatening look. 

Sam replied to the question, “Well, the easy way is Dean shows me where he is hurt....and the hard way...”

 Alec caught the look in Sam’s eyes, “I guess I don’t want to know about the hard way.” He gave a nervous laugh. 

Dean smirked at Alec, “The hard way is when Sam pins me down on the bed and takes my clothes off, and the cheap bastard doesn’t even buy me a beer first.”   

Alec pulled a face “Eeeewwww! That’s way too much information, dude. I did not need to hear that!  Oh, please God, tell me you gonna go with the easy way.” 

Sam was staring at Dean’s shirt and finally he gave in, “You know, dude, I swear this morning when we left the motel you were wearing your plaid shirt. So where did the green one come from?” 

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, and went on the attack, “What? So you’re the fashion police now? I was wearing this, now lay off me.” Dean lowered his head, self conscious under all the scrutiny. 

“No, it was definitely the plaid shirt because it was the only one clean enough to be fighting its way out of your duffle bag to fresh air.  Your clothes are in pretty good shape, no rips or dirt, so what are they hiding?”  Sam moved away from Dean and got onto his knees, he reached towards Dean. 

Dean slapped at Sam’s hands, “Hey! Hands off the merchandise, dude. Alright, alright, have it your own way, Sam, I’ve had worse.”  Sam put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips at Dean. 

Dean gave a put upon sigh and struggled to his knees. He looked round the room at the others then he slowly shuffled round on his knees. Once he’d turned his back on them he reached for his shirts.  When he tried to pull them up his left arm gave a jolt of pain, “Son of a bitch...I hate to ask but can I get a little help here to put Samantha’s mind at ease?” 

Eliot moved beside Dean, and he clinically pulled the shirts up. Dean looked at him gratefully, Eliot understood. It was killing Dean to show weakness, it was better for him to do this than his brother.   

The moment Dean’s back was exposed there was a chorus of gasps; his back was a mess, covered in welts from his shoulders, disappearing beneath his waist band.  Sam reached forward again to see how far down the welts went, “Sam, you go there and I will end you.” 

Peter stared in horrified fascination, “What the hell did that?” he gasped. 

“Sorry, but how about the next time they whip me I’ll ask them what they’re using. Come on, man, I wasn’t exactly paying all that much attention and that is how I dislocated my shoulder. I was trying to get free when it went.” 

“Dean...” Sam’s voice held a warning tone; Dean sighed and looked over at Peter. 

“No need to apologise, Dean, it was a stupid question. Shit! They must hurt.”  Peter winced in sympathy. While they had been talking Eliot had been closely examining Dean’s back, looking at the marks. 

Eliot straightened up and then he barked out “Bull whip”

 “Bless you, dude.”  Dean responded, “You can tell a bull whip did that just by looking at my back?”   

Eliot lowered Dean’s shirts and helped him turn round and sit down. As he moved back to where Alec sat, he nodded, “They leave very distinctive welts.”  With that, he looked at Neal. 

Sam sighed a little, “Well, it could be worse, I suppose. At least you don’t have a cold as well this time.” 

Peter looked bemused, “I know I’m going to regret this but...a cold?” 

Sam nodded enthusiastically, “Oh yeah, some of the girls love giving Dean a cold. They think he’s just adorable when he’s all sneezy and feverish and it really, really makes their week if they can get him dressed in one of my hoodies. I gotta say, man, look at you, beat to hell, dislocated shoulder, forgot to mention you’d been flogged.  But give you a cold and you’re helpless, it’s all “Sab, can you get me a drink, and whinging. God, the whinging, you’d think he was dying.”  Sam rolled his eyes and gave a fond laugh at his now scowling brother. 

Eliot gave Dean a shit-eating grin on hearing that “I can imagine just how cute he looks like that, all big watery eyes and red nosed.” 

Dean gave Eliot a death glare that was blistering the paint behind him but Eliot just sat there smiling serenely.   

“Yeah, the last time they did that it was a real barrel of laughs. Not only did they give me Swine Flu, they beat me up in a bar fight after some pool hustling went wrong.  You try that with a broken nose and cracked ribs. It felt like I was exploding every goddamn time I sneezed.” 

Sam couldn’t help but grin on memory “Oh, I remember that one, projectile snot and vomit. Gross did not cover it, and it cost me two hoodies.  It’s not as if we have an unlimited wardrobe” 

Neal was sitting there in awe watching the whole conversation. Finally Peter gave him a gentle nudge, “Well then, it looks like we have a winner. The alpha fan girl is the ‘Dean’ girl, I think we should be able to distract her long enough to get away.” 

“How we gonna do that? And what about the keyboard?”  Alec asked. 

“Simple. We lure the girls in here and then we get the keyboard off them.  Alec, just how good a hacker are you?”  Neal asked innocently. 

Alec grinned, “I don’t want to brag but I’m the best. Why? What do you want me to hack?” 

“Nothing, but could you give their hard drive a little virus so we can get clear?”   

Alec grinned back at Neal, “No problem, age of the geek, Neal. Piece of cake.” 

Peter tapped Neal on the shoulder, “That’s all well and good but how the hell do we get them in here without their goons?” 

“Well, if Alec’s virus works then I should imagine the goons won’t be a problem. As for how to get the ladies in here, I think we should give them what they want.” 

Peter was still puzzled and Dean gave a heartfelt groan, “Crap, really? Are you sure it won’t work with one of you guys?”  Neal shook his head and Dean shot a glare at Sam who was grinning at him. 

“All we need now is some bait to entice the girls close enough for us to grab the keyboard; I think that’s your department, Sam.”  Neal looked at Sam who nodded. 

“I don’t want to worry you about your stunning plan but you still haven’t told me how you’re actually going to get them in the cell?”  Peter threw up his hands in frustration. 

Dean just grinned at him and looked at the corner of the room, “Real simple, Peter. Smile, you’re on candid camera.”  Peter noticed the small surveillance cameras for the first time. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. I never even saw them, and I must be slipping. Well then, what else do we need to do? Come on, I need to go and get Elizabeth back.”  With that, the six men continued to plot. 

In the room next door three women sat, gathered round a television screen with a bucket of popcorn.  They had pushed their ski masks up so they were perched on top of their heads. “Thanks, you guys, for bringing me along, and letting me practice my writing on Neal. It’s been really cool.”  The first woman was watching the screen excitedly; she had never done this before so it was all new to her.  Her companions were more experienced and were slouched low in their chairs, watching the screen with interest.   

“Look! I’m telling you it was a mistake not to have sound installed. Now we can’t hear what they’re saying, and where’s the comfort at? I mean, just pulling up Dean’s shirt and laughing at him isn’t very comforting.  I knew I should’ve broken Eliot’s ankle. At least, we’d have got some bandaging action, maybe even shirts being used for bandages.”  The ‘Eliot’ girl was grumbling.

 The ‘Dean’ girl was glued to the screen; there was no way in hell she was going to admit that she was distraught that Sam hadn’t been the one to remove Dean’s shirts.  Or to gently apply cool water-soaked cloths to his abused back. Damn! She needed to go back and write that.   She noticed something, the handful of popcorn on its way to her mouth froze and she shot bolt upright in her chair. 

Sam was lying on his bed and he appeared to be writhing in agony! Shit! “Ok, which one of you is doing that? I thought we agreed no cross hurting; we stick to our boys, no freelancing.  Come on, own up.” The ‘Dean’ girl looked at the other two women and then noticed the wireless keyboard sat in front on the screen.  She gulped, “Oh, crap no! Oh, please let him be alright.” 

She watched in horror as Sam appeared to be getting worse, Dean was holding his hand trying to calm him down.   This was normally cause for much celebration and a large glass of red wine, but right now things were serious. Neal had moved to the other side of the bed and Eliot was frantically going though their medical supplies. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked the idea of ‘em getting sick?” asked the ‘Neal’ girl. 

The ‘Dean’ girl turned to look at her, “Are you nuts? Do you know what will happen to me if anything happens to Sam?  Listen, if the guy dies in there we can’t bring him back! Look, our writing has caused all the injuries, right? We can hurt ‘em and put ‘em back together, no problem. But this is happening without our help.  Do you know what the other ‘Sam’ girls will do to me? I know two who will hunt me down and make what I’d planned for Dean look like a weekend at a Spa.  Oh shit, now what’s happening?” 

The men had gathered round Sam, blocking him from the cameras. The three women huddled together, panicking. The ‘Eliot’ girl said, “Surely you can tell the others it was an accident?” 

The ‘Dean’ girl whimpered, “They’ll never believe me. Besides, do you think I’ll live long enough to explain. We have an agreement that no hurt/comfort writer does a death fic without consultation first, or at least a very strongly written author’s warning.  They’ll think I’ve gone dark side.  It’s no good, we’re going to have to go in there and see what’s happening.”  The other two gasped in horror. 

“No, we can’t, they’ll kill us! I know that they have some idea what’s happening by the amount of times we’ve worked over Eliot and Dean. Now it’s happening to Neal as well, we’ll never get close enough.  Besides, I don’t think Sam will have any problems stringing one of us up for hurting his brother. Remember Alistair and Lilith.”  The ‘Eliot’ girl was gibbering. 

“We don’t have a choice here; if I go down, we all go down.  Besides, Sam’s detoxed off the demon blood, and I’m pretty sure we could make it to the door before it’s too late.  No, ladies, this is for the greater good, and the fact my ass is on the line. We’re going in.  I’ll man the keyboard, I might be without a beta but I type faster and have a greater incentive.  Hell hath no fury than a bunch of pissed-off ‘Sam’ girls... with the exception of pissed-off ‘Dean’ girls, and if I break Dean because I managed to kill Sam on my watch, then nowhere is safe for me’ not even bloody Grey’s fandom.” 

With that, the ‘Dean’ girl put down the popcorn, stood up and brushed off her dark clothes and looked expectantly at the other two.  The ‘Eliot’ girl sighed and nodded; she stood and pulled the ‘Neal’ girl to her feet as well. They swiftly pulled down their ski masks, and the three of them stood there, figures of dark-clothed menace and power.  The image was only slightly marred by the fact the ‘Dean’ girl had, had to cut two extra holes in her mask so she could still wear her glasses over the top of hers. 

The ‘Neal’ girl reverently handed over the keyboard. Just as they prepared to sweep into the locked room the sound of typing could be heard and four Henchmen flickered into life.  This time they were bigger and uglier than before. Just as they reached the door, the ‘Dean’ girl offered a quick prayer to the Holy Trinity - Carter, Wheedon and Kripke - that the batteries would hold up in the keyboard and the three of them were ready. 

In the cell the men heard the faint sounds of voices outside the door. Neal looked round the room, “Gentlemen, are we ready? Remember your roles and good luck.  You, especially Dean, we’re all relying on you to make this convincing.”  Dean rolled his neck and took some deep breaths. Sam gave his hand a squeeze and a convincing moan as the door opened.  On hearing that moan, Dean focused completely. This was just another hunt and he wasn’t about to let Sam get hurt.  Dean looked down and fixed Sam with a look that promised he would get him out of there, even if he had to throw himself at the fan girls to do it. 

The Henchmen entered the room and stood inside the door, glaring round the room. On the bed Sam moaned even louder and rolled around. Dean gripped his hand tightly.  The women crept into the room, waiting to be attacked but the men seemed utterly intent on the drama unfolding in front of them.  They stood, uncertain of what to do, the last thing they’d expected was to be ignored. Rushed, yes, hell, even the distraction of having Eliot and Neal strip (they’d been praying for that one) but ignored.....that hadn’t even figured in the plans. 

“Now, what? I was expecting to have to fight our way out.”  The ‘Eliot’ girl hissed; the ‘Dean’ girl relaxed slightly, her fingers poised over the keys in case of attack.  Suddenly Dean stood up and spun round as if hearing them for the first time.  The women tensed for attack, and then they looked at Dean’s face. 

He was pale and drawn, his handsome features a mask of distress and concern. He bit down on his full bottom lip and went to speak, his throat worked as if he was struggling for the right words.  The women were entranced by this display, unable to tear their eyes away. Neal nodded slightly and the others began to drift into position. 

They moved away from the bed, slowly fanning out as not to draw attention to what was happening. Eliot and Peter moved level with the Henchmen; they were to attack in case Dean failed. Alec was moving further back so he was level with the woman with the keyboard and Neal remained firmly in their eye line in case a distraction was needed.  Now it was all down to Dean. 

Dean took a faltering half-step forward and stopped, his breathing gave a painful hitch, and he moved his right hand across his body to support his injured left arm.  “Please, you have to help me. Sam’s sick, I know you don’t have to, but he’s all I’ve got. I can’t lose him.”  Dean’s words were soft and pleading, his pained green eyes fixed unblinking on the fan girls. The ‘Dean’ girl was wavering, so the ‘Eliot’ girl stepped in. 

“What’s wrong with him? He seemed aright a little while ago.”  Her words were suspicious and nervous and she was just about to look round to see where the others had gotten to when Dean spoke. 

“He’s been sick on and off for the last couple of days now. He’s been complaining of gut ache and gas! Oh Jesus! The gas got so bad I nearly had to ask him to hang his ass out of the Impala’s window.”  Dean paused and from the bed came a disgruntled huff, followed by the sound of a gasp.  No one saw Neal give the mattress a sly kick when Sam started to grumble under his breath about pain-in-the-ass big brothers. 

The ‘Eliot’ girl’s head jerked round at the sound and Dean knew it was time to pull out the big guns. “I think it’s his appendix, the pain is down the right hand side and he’s been feeling sick. Please, I’m begging you.  He really needs to get to a hospital.” 

The’ Eliot’ girl hissed into her friend’s ear, “Fuck, I hope he’s lying or we’re so screwed.  You know Dean, is he lying?”  The ‘Dean’ girl was staring fixedly into Dean’s earnest eyes; her voice had deserted her so she shook her head.  The ‘Eliot’ girl began to reach for the keyboard, Dean took another step towards them and she froze.

 “Listen to me, I‘ll do whatever you want me to do, just please get Sam out of here.  I’ll stay, just let the others take him out of here.”  As he spoke Sam became even more agitated. 

 “Dean! No, don’t you dare! I’m not worth that.”  Sam’s voice died away in a gasp of pain; Dean turned his head towards his brother and then he looked back.  His eyes were just starting to fill with tears. 

“I swear I won’t touch you or even try to escape. Just...I’m begging you, for Sammy’s sake, please.”  As he spoke his voice broke on the last word, pleading for his brother’s life. His bottom lip trembled and he drew the lip between his teeth.  It was then the tear that had been poised, fell; a single perfect tear spilled down his cheek, glistening in the harsh light of the cell. 

The women had been completely hypnotised by this, and it was only as the tear fell the ‘Eliot’ girl’s brain hammered against her skull screaming ‘NNNNOOOOO, it’s a trap!’ But by then it was too late.  The keyboard slipped from the ‘Dean’ girl’s nerveless fingers and Alec, who had slowly slid down the wall, shot forward, caught it and began to type at a speed that would make the average fan fic writer weep with envy. 

Neal watched, fascinated, as the Henchmen began to flicker and finally they disappeared. Sam rolled off the bed and got to his feet. He used his height and bitch face number thirteen (only to be used in case of gratuitous ‘Dean’ abuse) to manoeuvre the ‘Neal’ girl and ‘Eliot’ girl against the back wall. Dean and his fan girl were still staring at one another, “Sammy, you and the guys back out of the cell. I’m coming. Sam, don’t argue with me, just do it.” The tone in Dean’s voice made sure Sam did as he was told. Finally Dean moved round, putting his back to the open cell door. 

The two fan girls stood watching nervously as Dean stepped up close to their friend. He gave a slow, seductive smile and he carefully reached out and pulled up the ski mask so the lower half of her face was uncovered.  Then he leaned forward and placed a kiss right on her lips. 

When he broke the kiss, the ‘Dean’ girl swayed and her glasses steamed up, “You may want to help your friend, she looks a little unsteady on her feet. By the way, ladies, thanks for your hospitality, now we really must be going.”  Dean gave a jaunty wave and backed quickly away. The two women stepped forward just in time. The ‘Dean’ girl’s legs buckled and the three of them went down in a tangled heap. 

Dean got out of the cell and looked at the others. Eliot, Neal and Alec were grinning, Peter was shaking his head, laughing and Sam stood with his hands on his hips. “Dean, that wasn’t funny.” 

Dean took a step forward and staggered a little. Sam moved and helped him, he looked up at his brother, “Ahh, come on, it was a little funny. Can we go now?  Where is the keyboard?”  Peter closed and locked the door, Dean looked round as they made their way towards some stairs.  It looked like they were in some sort of old abandoned building, it figured really loud screams kind of upset the neighbours, Dean mused. 

“The keyboard’s in there with them. Don’t worry, the virus I gave the hard drive should hold ‘em for a little while, but I think Dean’s kiss just might have done more damage.”  Alec called over his shoulder as he helped Eliot to negotiate the stairs with his damaged ankle. 

Back in the cell the ‘Eliot’ girl was shaking her friend, “Come on...come on...they’re getting away.”   

“What can we do about it?”  The ‘Neal’ girl asked her co-writer. 

“Well, judging by the lack of response we got a virus in the hard drive and the genius down there is pretty good at cleaning out viruses. Now all we gotta do is reboot her.”  The ‘Eliot’ girl sighed, giving up, deciding instead to sit and wait for the incoherent babbling to stop. 

Finally the soft whimpers and sounds began to resolve themselves into words, and hope flickered brightly in her heart, waiting for her friend to speak, “You know, I might just change my stance on het fics and Mary Sue’s.” With that the ‘Dean’ girl gave a happy sigh and started humming ‘Back in Black’. The tiny flame of hope was snuffed out and the two women sat and waited for their friend to recover. 

The six men were making slow progress down the dilapidated staircase. Alec had his arm wrapped round Eliot’s waist and his other hand on the stair rail then came Sam and Dean. Sam was doing his best to stop his brother face planting on the men in front whilst he attempted to escape Sam’s ‘mother hen’ routine.  Bringing up the rear was Peter and Neal, watching the others with amusement. 

“Neal, please tell me this is never going to happen again, I don’t think my nerves could take it. “ He looked mournfully at his partner, and so what if he was hovering a little closer to Neal than normal? Fan girls or not, those bruises looked damn real to him.

 Neal smiled back. “Listen, we had an advantage those other guys never had, namely their experiences, it gave us the way out.  If it happens again we will be ready for it...mostly, now shush, I think our trip downstairs is about to get interesting.”  Neal had been watching Dean and he saw a mischievous look flit across his face.  With an air of exaggerated innocence Dean managed to move himself and his brother closer to Eliot and Alec. 

“Damnitt, Hardison, if you don’t take your hand off my ass this second I swear there is gonna be real trouble.  The next time your ass is in a sling don’t expect me to come runnin’.”  Eliot groused at his friend. 

“What the hell are you on, Spencer? My one hand is holding your damn heavy ass upright and the other is stopping us both falling headlong downstairs.  That ain’t my hand.”

 

Eliot’s face was a picture, his eyes widened with shock then narrowed as he turned his head towards the culprit. Dean smiled sweetly and winked at the scowling hitter.  Sam gave a put-upon sigh known to little brothers over the universe “Dean....” the word expressed so much - a warning, a plea and the fact that if Eliot turned round he would probably kill Dean and Sam would be forced to retaliate and he liked those two. 

Eliot glared harder and Dean fluttered his eyelashes, “Ah, come on, Eliot, you wouldn’t hit an injured man, would you? My hand slipped and I had to stop myself from falling.” 

“Ya didn’t have to grab my ass to do it.  How do you know I wouldn’t hit an injured man?” 

Alec was muttering rapid prayers under his breath. He’d looked over his shoulder and seen Sam’s face darkening with an expression that screamed ‘I like you, guys’ but if you touch my brother I will maim you both to make sure I get the right one. “Eliot, come on, dude, no harm no foul. Besides, we need to get out of here, those girls could still bust loose. The virus was a little haphazard.”  Eliot gave a final growl and started limping forward again. 

“Dean gave a cough. “Wuss.”  That did it! Eliot froze and started to turn round; as he did Sam somehow managed to get between the two men. 

“Hey Alec, if this does turn into a bitch fight can you imagine the hair pulling? Listen, I’m sure you two ladies you can hug it out afterwards.”  Dean’s glee-filled words stopped the two combatants dead.   

Eliot exchanged a look with Sam, “Dude, how do ya put up with him?” He asked in wonder. 

“Practice, years and years of practice, and I’d miss the car.”  Sam returned the smile and went back to helping his older brother downstairs.  As he did he made the threat of giving him a sponge bath if he didn’t behave.  If that didn’t work, he would ask Cas to do it instead. On hearing that, Dean’s mouth snapped shut and he became a model big brother the rest of the way down the stairs. 

The six men reached the door, Neal gave it a tentative push. They were free.  After a few seconds, jostling as to who would get out first, Eliot and Alec won when Eliot ‘accidentally’ pushed Dean’s back into the door frame.

 They emerged, blinking into the sunlight and they found themselves greeted by three vehicles.  Alec grinned when he saw his van, “Ahh, baby, are you a sight for sore eyes?”  Parker rushed forward and looked at Eliot, frowning. 

“You look like crap, not as bad as last time but you still look like crap.  Where does it hurt?”  Parker had a gleam in her eye as she spoke. 

Eliot shook his head as Nate came forward and helped him and Alec towards the van, “I ain’t tellin ya, Parker. The last time I did you spent the afternoon poking at the bruises.  Back up where I can see ya.”  It was then Parker noticed Sam, Dean, Peter and Neal.  Her eyes narrowed and she produced her tazer from her pocket.

 “Are these the ones who hurt you? I’m not having you hurt my friends.”  She began to advance then she looked at Neal and Dean properly. She saw bruising and the fact that Dean was being held upright by someone who was eyeing her and the tazer with open hostility.  “Hey, is he ok? I bet he’s kinda good looking when he’s not had the crap beat out of him.” She tilted her head to one side as she looked at Dean. 

“You ain’t so bad yourself, sweetheart. My name’s Dean and you are?”  Dean had turned on the charm when he spotted the blond thief, completely ignoring the fact she was armed.

 Sophie stepped forward and took the tazer off Parker, “This is Parker and we are leaving. Thank you for helping our friends but I think we should be going, before those girls get free.”  She gave a warm smile and led Parker away. 

Peter had spotted his car and there was Elizabeth and Mozzie, of all people. He ran to her to see if she was alright.  “El, are you hurt? Did my guys from the unit rescue you?” 

 Elizabeth shook her head, “No, it was the weirdest thing. The van I was taken in just pulled over. They helped me out and gave me ten dollars for taxi fare.  What’s happening, Peter?  And why does Neal look like he’s been attacked? The poor boy! Don’t just leave him there, help him.” 

Sam just grinned as Elizabeth swept past her husband to fuss over a startled Neal, Peter looked over at Sam.  “I told you not to worry, Peter. Elizabeth had served her purpose as bait; the girls had no more use for her and let her go.  They usually aren’t all that interested in girlfriends or wives, just us. Aren’t we the lucky ones?”  Sam adjusted his hold on Dean as he spoke, wondering why his brother was so quiet. It never boded well when Dean was this quiet.

 Sam followed Dean’s line of sight and realized he was staring at the Impala. Ok, nothing new there. It was then that Sam spotted Bobby in the passenger seat.  What the hell? Sam thought. How the hell did Bobby get there and where was his wheelchair?

“Bobby? How did you find us? I thought we were Cas-proof now we have that graffiti on our ribs? How did you get here and who the hell drove my baby?” Dean’s voice was getting a little shrill by the end of his list of questions.

 Bobby turned and looked at the boys; he seemed to have aged about ten years. Dean felt sick. Shit! Bobby hadn’t found the he witch again, had he? Before Dean could start yelling, Bobby gathered himself together. “Right, ya idjits! Are you just gonna stand there all day? You got hurt/comfort writers up there and by the looks of some of you, they’ve already been having some fun. Sam, get your brother in the back seat and let’s hightail it out of here.” Bobby’s voice was hoarse and his eyes kept darting round nervously as if he was trying to figure out where he was.

 “Oh, hell no, Bobby, not until you tell me how you found us.”  Dean dug his heels in so that Sam was faced with either letting him have this conversation or carrying him to the car.  As he didn’t want itching powder in his boxers again, he wanted to see how this played out. 

Bobby sighed, “When you two vanished off the face of the planet I sent Cas to your last co-ordinates. When you weren’t there, I got worried then Cas said he felt a strange physic residue. The best he described it was that it was like being in the presence of Becky, only more intense, and I just knew you got a bad case of the fan girls.  I told him to try and follow the scent. Sorry, it took so long but we ran into a couple of other groups and we barely got away.”  Dean nodded. Fine, that explained how they’d been found.   

“I need to know how you all knew to come here.”  Dean asked the others.

 Elizabeth responded, “A man in a trench coat with sticking-up hair, the most intense blue eyes and a voice that could turn you into goo appeared at my front door and told me.  I don’t know why – I just had to obey him.” 

 “Yup, that sounds about right for us too. Put me in mind of some of my seminary training, for some reason.”  Nate added helpfully. 

“Oooh look! And he’s right in front of Dean. Hi there, Castiel.”  Parker beamed and waved at the angel.

 Cas had suddenly materialized and Dean found himself sandwiched between the angel in front of him and his brother right behind him.  Dean’s heart pounded with shock. He looked heavenwards, thought about Zach then swiftly closed his eyes before he had chance to utter anything resembling a prayer.  He licked his lips and started to speak, “Cas, how many more times are we going to have the personal space conversation? And Sam, there are many things in this world that I do not want to feel pressed against my ass and your belt buckle is probably top of the list.  So you two take a step back right the fuck now!”  Dean’s tone sounded like an order which made the soldier in Sam and Cas obey instantly.

 “Cas, how did Bobby and the car get here....? Oh, please tell me you didn’t drive my baby? Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’ll never let that happen again.”  Dean looked at the Impala with an apology. 

Cas squared his shoulders and looked at Dean with a sombre expression, “I did not drive your.... baby. I merely placed Bobby in the car and brought the car and him here, after taking the message to the others as per Bobby’s instructions....Good afternoon, Parker, it has been a while since we spoke. How are you?”  Dean looked at Parker and thought that could explain a few things about the girl. Then he wrapped his head around the rest of what Cas had said.

 “You bamfed Bobby and the car here? No wonder Bobby looks like he’s gonna redecorate the interior.  Bobby, don’t you dare puke, original leather interior dude.  Use your cap.”  Dean relaxed a little. Fan girls beating the shit out of him he could handle but Cas driving the Impala, he shuddered at the thought. 

Sam watched Dean’s response to the news carefully. He was fully expecting Dean to collapse at the prospect of Cas driving the Impala and he’d braced himself to carry his brother to the car after he fainted...sorry, passed out, Winchesters never fainted.  Once he was happy that Dean was going to remain standing, he looked over at Cas.  The angel was looking a little pale; he wasn’t surprised. That must have taken it out of him, all that bamfing around.  “Ok then, Cas, why don’t you put Dean in the back of the car and stay with him, make sure he behaves and I’ll drive.  Ladies and gentlemen, as much as I’m enjoying your company I agree with Bobby, we better get out of here before our friends upstairs get free.” 

On hearing those words, everyone was galvanised into action. Eliot was helped, grumbling, into Hardison’s van, he was trying to keep Parker away from his injuries along with Hardison as he fussed over him.  Sophie and Nate looked round, “Thank you for helping Alec and Eliot. We wish you a speedy recovery and please don’t be offended if we hope we never meet again, goodbye.” Sophie sounded nervous as she spoke, expecting the people who had hurt her friends to appear.

 Neal waved to the couple and called out, “None taken. I hope Eliot recovers soon and he doesn’t kill anyone while he recovers.... Sam, good luck, I mean that.  It looks like you’re going to have your hands full for the next few days.  What with your friend, Bobby, Dean and how do you care for a sick angel? Take care of yourself, Sam. It was a pleasure to meet you, although I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

 Sam was getting ready to get into the Impala when Neal spoke. He was surprised when he mentioned what Cas was, then he smiled, Neal had been the one to grasp the situation the quickest so maybe it wasn’t such a surprise.  He walked over to where they stood; Sam patted his pockets looking for a piece of paper, Elizabeth quickly produced one of her business cards and a pen, Sam smiled at her in thanks. He wrote his and Dean’s phone numbers on the back of the card, “These are mine and Dean’s numbers. If you ever need our kind of help, just call and I promise we’ll come as quickly as possible.  Thanks for everything, Neal. You saved me and Dean a lot of pain. Trust me, Dean is a lousy patient, so I really do mean thanks.  Goodbye, Neal...Peter, take care of yourselves.” 

With that, Sam walked back to the car. Alec’s van drove past and Sophie waved as they went.  Then there was the distinctive roar of the Impala as she started up. Neal looked into the back window and saw Dean watching him. Dean smirked and winked at him, before settling back down and trying to get comfortable.  Neal swore he could hear arguing over the classic rock that blared out of the car, something about Dean lying down and Dean telling Sam no way he was lying down with his head on Cas’ lap. He could if he wanted to, then Dean would be able to drive.

 The Impala pulled away, leaving Neal, Peter, Elizabeth and Mozzie stood together, “I don’t suppose you two want to tell me what just happened?”  Elizabeth looked from one man to the other; Peter put his arm round his wife and guided her to the car. 

“I promise we will, just as soon as we have put some distance between us and them. Come on, Neal, let’s go home.”  As Peter and Elizabeth climbed in the front seats Mozzie fell in beside his friend.   

Neal smiled at Mozzie, hewas puzzled by the smile, “What’s so funny, Neal? You look like crap and the other guys look like they just went ten rounds with one of your suit friends.” 

“Mozzie, you are going to love what happened today. I can’t wait to hear your theories on how the government was behind it.”  With that, Neal and Mozzie climbed into the car, and it swiftly pulled away. 

The street stood empty for a few minutes, and then three figures staggered out into the street.  The girls still wore their ski masks, although the ‘Dean’ girl’s glasses were now lopsided and barely perched on her nose.  She held the keyboard in front of her like a weapon poised to strike. The ‘Eliot’ girl threw up her arms in despair as she looked up and down the street. 

“Now what? They got away and I was so looking forward to giving Eliot a fever and having Hardison bathe him down with cool cloths. I could’ve gotten Sam to help him when he wasn’t busy looking after Dean.  If only you’d kept hold of the keyboard instead of dropping it.” The ‘Eliot’ girl pulled up her mask and glared at the ‘Dean’ girl.

 The ‘Dean’ girl snorted, “Yeah right! I’m sure you’d have been perfectly fine if Eliot had grabbed you and planted a kiss right on your lips.”  She pulled up her own mask so she could adjust her glasses to see properly, her lips still tingled from where Dean’s had touched hers. 

She turned to look at her fellow hurt/comfort writers. They stood, looking despondent; she knew they still had some time before the portal between the realities closed again. She smiled and put her hand in her pocket and drew out a list.

 The ‘Eliot’ girl watched as the piece of paper appeared, “What’s that? What are you up to now?”  There was a tinge of excitement in her voice as she spoke; she could see a wicked gleam in her friend’s eyes as she spotted something on her list. 

The ‘Dean’ girl began to type, and suddenly a multi-coloured swirl of light appeared in front of them.  She grinned at her friends and just as she got ready to step into the light and be transported to where she had written she said, “Ladies, who fancies a trip to Quantico to pay a little visit to Dr Spencer Reid and Agent Derek Morgan? I’ve always wanted to know if I can type faster than Garcia. Coming?”  With that the three women stepped into the light.