Best Interest At Heart Part 2

[yansadracan]

Title: Best Interest At Heart
Author: YanzaDracan
Artist: Tiggeratl1
Fandom: RPS (KANE & SPN), Person of Interest, SWAT, Law & Order: LA, The Bourne Legacy
Rating: R
Warning: Implied torture; language
Word Count: 6,790/19,265
Summary: The Machine always protected The Creator, but when numbers began to appear in other parts of the country, The Creator and The Human Protector could not be in these other places so The Machine found a solution. It found The Sorcerer and The Guardian.

J^{2 & KANE}

Ashley smiled at the two middle aged men that entered The Black Rooster. The tall drink of water hovered protectively over the shorter man who moved stiffly.

"Welcome to The Black Rooster. Is there only two in your party or will you be waiting for friends?"

"Two only."

We have seating by the windows if you want to people watch, in the back if you want something more private, or on the patio."

"By the fireplace. It's a bit chilly tonight."

"My personal favorite." She said brightly.

Standing by the table, the hostess was touched by how solicitous the tall man was of his partner though he did it in a way that wasn't obvious.

"Can I offer you a drink?"

"Your website mentions an assortment of teas. Do you have Rize?"

"Dark or weak?"

"Dark."

The tea and the meal that followed were perfect. They watched the young man at the dark table near the kitchen as he worked on his computer and the long haired man with his hair held back by a bandana as he moved between the kitchen and his customers.

Small smiles appeared at the growling between the two younger men.

"If you don't eat, you're going to force me to feed you, Jenny."

"Try it Kane and you'll get knocked off your perfect boyfriend pedestal."

"I have a pedestal?"

"According to the female staff, but they don't know the real you."

"Ah Jenny, you know you love me. Am I really your boyfriend?"

"Just 'til you find someone better."

I could feel my forehead drawing down into a scowl.

"Jensen…"

My concern was waved away. My temper grabbed hold of my brain, but before I could get a word out someone called my name.

"Dammit, Jenny."

"Don't call me Jenny." He gave me a crooked smile.

"This isn't finished."

The older men exchanged a look.

"So that's them?"

"Can I get you gentlemen anything else?"

"Yes…Mike, a word with the chef."

The waiter gave them a tentative nod before heading for the kitchen.

"I'm Chef Kane. How can I help you this evening?"

"We'd like to have a private word with you and Mr. Ackles."

I gave the two men a glare. I felt Jensen move up behind me and lay his hand on the small of my back.

"It's alright, Christian. I know who they are." He turned to the two men at the table. "Come to the side door of the house tomorrow at ten."

I watched Jensen walk out through the courtyard to the house. I turned back to pair at the table.

"Who…?"

"Harold Finch and my associate John Reese."

"What does a geek and former spook want with us?"

"All will be explained tomorrow, Mr. Kane, but I want to say that we had a wonderful meal."

"Perhaps you should see to your partner."

Reese's eyes twinkled like he understood the pitfalls of living with a genius, and looking at Harold Finch I would say he probably did. For a small man he carried a big presence and a stubborn jaw.

"I will see you tomorrow for breakfast."

Checking the clock I saw we were an hour from closing. I turned to look for Ashley to have her close, but saw Jensen back at his computer. With a sigh I wondered if Reese and I should exchange notes on bull headed partners.

Promptly at ten the next morning the pair appeared at our door. I was putting the finishing touches on breakfast while Jensen escorted our guests to the table.

Always more night owl than morning lark, Jensen refused to talk about anything serious until the dishes had been cleared, and fresh coffee and tea were brewed.

"Now, what can Christian and I do for a man richer than Croseus and an ex-CIA asset?"

The corner of Reese's mouth twitched as he looked at Finch.

"I warned you, Harold."

Throwing Reese a sour look, Finch turned his full attention back on us.

"Mr. Reese-John-and I oversee a project that has mostly been confined to New York City. It has recently come to my attention that there is a need for this same service in other parts of the country. You came highly recommended to handle the western half of the country."

"The western US? What do these projects entail, and what are we supposed to do?"

I did not like the sound of this. Someone knew enough about who we were to recommend us to Finch for a job? I needed to call Jim and find out who he'd been talking to. If word got out we were alive the shit really would hit the fan.

I expected the voice to answer my question to be Finch or Reese's not Jensen's.

"We get a social security number. We have to find who the number belongs to and whether or not they're a victim or the threat. The job is to protect the victim or eliminate the threat."

The three of us stared. So that's what Jensen was hiding.

"The Machine's sending you numbers?" Finch sounded confused.

It seemed he didn't know whether to be amazed or jealous.

"Calls me The Sorcerer, and tells me I'm to lighten the load of The Creator and The Human Protector." Jensen rubbed the back of his neck.

"If you're The Sorcerer than Mr. Kane is clearly The Guardian." Reese informed them.

"Never said anything about The Guardian." Jensen mumbled.

"These things are always done in binary. It's the only way The Machine's logic would be content."

"Wait. What?"

"You and Ackles have become the west coast us." Reese's chuckle was quiet.

"It helps if you can cultivate resources inside the police force." Finch volunteered.

"Stop."

I'd had enough. It was like the three of them were talking a language I didn't understand. Is this why Jensen had been disappearing at odd hours?

"You two…make yourselves comfortable. You," I snagged Jensen's wrist, "with me."

"I wonder if that tactic would work with you, Harold?"

Reese's quiet words brought a rude sound from Finch as I dragged Jensen to my floor of the house and slammed the bedroom door behind us.

"Talk."

Jensen explained about the numbers, matching them with people, digging into their lives until he discovered the reason The Machine sent him the number. One number had belonged to our hostess, Ashley, who had caught the eye of a serial rapist. Jensen's eyes were haunted as he glossed over the man was no longer being a threat to our pretty hostess.

My brain clicked with a news story-police found a man dead from natural causes lying among the trophies of his victims. I remember the story because I thought the detective on the case was hot. They had received an anonymous tip…Jensen.

"You killed him."

"So what-we went from being assets of an agency that lived in the dark to being assets of a super computer? Dammit, Jenny."

"This isn't for someone political agenda, Christian. This is helping actual people one at a time."

"Finch said something about resources…that blond detective…you wooing him with your tips?"

"He's a good cop…clean…high solve rate. Just your type."

"You've met him! Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Not met…just…watched."

I sat on the edge of the mattress scared, angry, concerned, and so much more I couldn't name. We'd gone through hell to get where we were, and now Jensen was right back in the violence we'd left behind. He still wouldn't look at me-just kept staring out the window. He was…disconnecting…getting lost in numbers…the code…people with their messy emotions and ambitions hurt and scarred him, but the machines were always there giving him a refuge with their cold, orderly logic.

Not just no, but hell no. I shoved my hands through my hair. I was done hiding and ignoring what my instincts had been nagging at me for the past month. I was not losing my partner to a machine.

Jensen startled when I grabbed him by the nape and smashed my mouth against his. When I pulled back he was blinking like he'd just woken up.

"Christian?"

"I'll help you, Jen…I'll be The Guardian to your Sorcerer on one condition."

The hope and relief that filled his green eyes were like a slap in the face. I had gotten so caught up in living a normal life I'd left Jensen trailing behind me like an orphaned pup.

"What's your condition?"

"When we're not on a case you step away from The Machine and live in the real world."

"I…"

"No. You. Don't. You spend all your time hiding in your nest upstairs when you're not at the restaurant."

"Agreed."

"Let's break the news to team New York and send them on their way. We have a date at the Farmer's Market."

"But…"

"Farmer's Market…re-stocking the restaurant…appropriate autumnal decorations."

"I should Tweet this. Christian Kane possessed by Martha Stewart."

"On you life."

"We both know I can so kick your ass."

"But there's so many other things you can do with my ass."

"You're such a horn dog."

"You love me anyway."

Jensen's laughter preceded them into the room causing the older men to look up.

"I take it you'll be helping us?" Finch closed the tablet he'd been working on.

"Yeah. Jensen and I came to an understanding."

"Excellent. Mr. Reese and I will leave you to your day."

"Good luck." Reese added quietly as he followed Finch out the door.

I was planning our Thanksgiving menu while Jensen set across the table catching up the never ending paperwork The Black Rooster generated.

"You giving me something special for dessert that weekend or doing the tried and true traditional pumpkin pie?"

"Yeah, but not everyone's into pumpkin so probably something with apples and a nice cheesecake…" His voice trailed off.

I'd heard his email notification sound off and when I looked up from my list his freckles stood stark against his pale face.

"Jen?"

"Number."

"What's wrong? Is it someone you know?"

"In a manner of speaking."

The haunted look was back in his eyes.

"Jim?"

"Detective Steven Carlson."

"The blond?"

Jensen nodded as he piled the remaining papers on top the closed laptop.

"My stuff's ready for tonight. I'll get started on this."

A burst of noise at the entrance had both of us reaching for the weapons we always carried. We exchanged sheepish grins when it turned out to be a group of thirty something pretty boys and girls from over at Warner Brothers. The standout-literally-was Jared Padalecki. Head and shoulders above the rest of the posse, the kid repeatedly hit on Jensen when he wasn't with one of his cookie cutter brunette actresses. Jensen didn't want to offend a customer so would politely rebuff the younger man. Jared had gotten pushy and Jensen had let the leash out on his dark side. It had slowed Jared down for a day or two, but Jensen's pretty face and air of dark mystery was stronger than the kid's fear.

When I was sure the group was looking our way, I snagged Jensen around the waist as he started to move past me. Pulling him back against me I planted a kiss behind his ear.

"Seriously." He said quietly.

"Just getting the boy to back off. Your pretty face and bad boy vibes draws them like bees to flowers."

He turned in my arms.

"More like flies to your bullshit."

He laughed as he nipped my bottom lip. I loved to hear him laugh so as he turned I swatted him on the ass, which earned me a glower that promised retribution.

When I looked back at Padalecki's group they were wide-eyed at our little PDA, and the blush climbing Sasquatch's face told me my message had been received.

After Jensen got his payback for my little display in the restaurant, we grabbed a shower and changed the sheets before settling with our tablets to begin figuring out why The Machine gave us Steve Carlson's number.

I took his personal life while Jensen started combing through his case files. The cases we'd sent his way had gotten him transferred to Major Crimes and several offers from the Feds. We went through the files, switched tablets and went through them again.

The most blatant danger was a witness protection detail on a Mexican drug cartel case, but there was a case involving the member of a prominent motorcycle gang and an ex-lover whose behavior was near to stalking. His parents were upper middle class upstanding members of their community, and Carlson himself was prone to impromptu jam sessions at a bar owned by long-time friend Danneel Harris in Studio City.

Jensen took the cop Carlson and I took the private Carlson.

Ex-boyfriend turned stalker was easy enough once he understood what terrible accidents could befall a person that spent a lot of time in the vicinity of a cop.

The bar was a pleasant surprise. Welcoming, intimate with a small stage set so there were not bad seats. Sliding onto a bar stool I could feel something inside me relax. I ordered a draft and listened to the sounds of happy hour. Several of the people were actor musicians who were friends with the red-haired owner manning the bar, while a table of young women was bemoaning the fact that Carlson had to cancel his appearance Saturday night. I was about to swallow the last of my beer when the man himself walked through the door. I ordered a refill and moved to a quiet corner to keep watch over our number.

Jensen didn't like it, but the only way we could keep track of Steve Carlson off the clock, was if he took over my weekend shifts at The Black Rooster.

After our sparring session, Jensen grumbled his way to the third floor to get ready to go to the restaurant while I ducked into the shower to get ready to go back to the Dixie Belle. Steve was performing and I was excited to hear him sing.

I stopped in the middle of drying off. Carlson was a job-why was I excited about seeing him? Why was I feeling the way I did the first time I met Dean? My knees gave out and I hit the bed hard enough to bounce. What the fuck? I love Jensen. Why am I lusting after Steve like a randy teenager?

Closing my eyes against the thoughts racing around my brain I anchored myself in my room…on my bed…that I share with a man I love. A man I love, but am not IN love with. I love Jensen, but I was IN love with Dean. I thought Jensen was Dean with a shiny new name, but Jensen and Dean are incredibly different people. Dean and I had been lovers and partners for nine years.

The mind fuck that Samantha Smith had given him killed the Dean I loved, and all that was left was Jensen. Scrubbing my hands over my face I wondered how to tell my fierce and loving partner of ten years that it's over.

Stumbling over to the dresser for clean jeans and a shirt, I felt guilty for my excitement over seeing Steve. It almost felt like I was cheating on Jensen. The first thing I needed to do was gather up all the stuff Jensen leaves laying around the room, and then I need to figure out a way to talk to Jensen without fucking up our entangled lives.

Pulling a pair of boots out of my closet, I start looking around to gather up all Jenny's bits and pieces-only to find there are no bits and pieces. Anything that ever said Jensen slept in my room or bed is gone. Now that I'm thinking about it-Jensen hasn't been in my bed since the night The Machine sent us Carlson's number. This just keeps getting better.

Jensen was already at the restaurant kitchen so I slipped across the courtyard to tell him I was leaving. I stopped in the doorway because he was talking with a couple customers. Always aware, he turned and gave me a grin and wave before giving his attention back to the table. I watched for several minutes as Dean Winchester came out to play with kids at the table until I realized one of the kids was Jared Padalecki. I started to move, but stopped myself. I couldn't keep him pinned to my side if I was going to chase after pretty blond cops.

By the time I arrived at the Dixie Belle, my heart was still heavy, but anticipation at seeing Steve was lifting my spirits. I figured a couple shots of Jack and beer would take care of the rest.

J2 & KANE

By the end of the second set I no longer lusted after Steve Carlson-protection detail or no, I was having this man in my bed. His music, words, genuine caring about the people who'd come to listen had me captured. I was peeling the label off my beer bottle trying to figure out my opening line when a shadow fell over the table.

"Was it that bad?"

"What?"

"My set. Was it so bad it left you speechless?"

I looked up into the twinkling blue eyes of Detective Steve Carlson.

"What! No!" I chuckled.

"I was trying to figure out a way to talk to you that didn't make me sound like a squeeing fan boy."

I motioned to the waitress for another round.

"Have a seat. Christian Kane." I held out my hand. "Love your stuff."

When Steve clasped my hand there weren't sparks that felt like a thousand pinpricks like the first time I'd touched Dean, but a warm rush that travelled up my arm and settled in the pit of my stomach. Stick me with a fork-I'm done. This man was it.

"Steve Carlson. Thanks. My dad's name is Chris, mind if I call you Christian?"

"Whatever you want, Steve, but I prefer Christian."

The blush that climbed his face told me I wasn't the only one feeling the heat.

"How long you been playing?"

After that the conversation flowed like a river. It wasn't until someone shouted his name I realized how late it had become.

"Hey Carlson! Either take him home and fuck him or send him back where he came from. I'm trying to close down before sunrise."

"What's she a vampire?" I teased.

"Some days I wonder."

Danneel smacked him on the back of the head with an envelope.

"Your cut, Minstrel."

"Thanks, Danni." He fumbled with the envelope. "Uh Danni. I won't be home."

Sharp brown eyes studied me like she could see the label on my underwear. I pulled out a business card.

"I live next door-if you think you need to find him."

Her eyes went wide as she read the card then she smiled like the sun.

"Keep him as long as you like, but I expect VIP treatment when I come by."

"Yes ma'am."

She handed Steve the card and headed back to the bar.

"Chef Kane of The Black Rooster! My mother is a huge fan. Takes all her important clients there to close the deal." He laughed. "She says your food closes more deals than she does, and the desserts…she plays an extra set of tennis just so she can have one."

"The credit for the desserts goes to my partner, Jensen."

"Partner?" Steve looked a little suspicious.

"Best friend, business partner, house mate. He's covering for me tonight so I could come see you."

"Oh…OH! Sounds like a good friend."

"The best."

I knew my smile was small and sad so to keep from answering questions I stood and held out my hand. The relief I felt when I felt the steel calloused fingers against my palm made me tug hard enough that he landed against my chest.

He tasted like beer, cigarettes and sin as I made it my mission to taste every inch of his mouth. When we broke apart he leaned his forehead against my collar bone and panted softly against my neck.

"If the first kiss is any indication, I may not survive the rest of the night."

"Then we'll burn together, darlin'."

The black ops agent part of my brain chittered the whole way home about the stupidity of falling for your mark, but I squashed it right along with my guilt over Jensen and everything else I didn't want to think about.

When we woke the next day with both our bodies sore and well used and my bed wrecked-I told Steve Carlson everything, and then I told him, "I love you."

Sitting cross-legged with the sheet pooled around his waist, he listened until I was finished. His blue eyes narrowed as he considered everything I'd said. I chewed my bottom lip and worried the whiskers under my bottom lip while I waited for whatever he was going to say.

"I want to meet Jensen." He waited an eight count. "I love you, too."

Jensen was finishing his breakfast and the paper when we stepped into the kitchen. He eyed Steve warily then looked at me, and shook his head.

"Morning."

He moved to clear his dishes.

"I just made a pot."

He collected his tablet and coffee mug ready to leave us alone.

"Jenny…stay?"

He stopped, but didn't sit. I poured two cups and motioned for Steve to sit at the table.

"Jensen Ackles-Steve Carlson."

Jensen nodded, but his expression was closed. He turned away.

"Jenny…we need to talk."

Green eyes flashed gold fire.

"No. We don't."

"Yeah we do. He knows."

"Knows what?"

"Everything. Including that I'm in love with him."

Jensen closed down and left me with The Sorcerer.

"If something's going to happen I have a right to know." Steve chimed in. "It's my life."

Even I shivered at the cold expression on Jensen's face.

"It's also mine and Christian's lives." He reminded.

Steve grabbed my hand.

"I know. That's why I want to help. We can't lose each other."

Jensen visibly deflated.

"Fine, but you're cooking breakfast."

J2 & KANE

It had been two weeks since we got Steve's number. There was still no clue about what was going to happen. I won't say Steve and Jensen became fast friends, but Jensen had relaxed, which allowed Steve to relax so I relaxed. A box here and a duffel bag full of clothes there. Suit jackets picked up from the dry cleaners, and Steve was soon moved into my floor of the house. Sheet music littered the living room and recording equipment commandeered one of the empty rooms in the basement.

I was happy and content until Jensen started dating Jared.

"Have you run a check on him?" I asked.

"No need. He won't be around long enough for it to matter."

"Jensen!"

"What? It's just a couple guys blowing off steam. He's convenient."

"Does he know he's convenient?"

"Yep. Made that clear before the first time I fucked him."

I pinched the bridge of my nose as Jensen walked away. I wondered if I was the reason he closed himself off. I leaned back into the arms that circled my waist.

"It's not your fault."

I snorted in disbelief.

"He hasn't dealt with anything that happened. He's hiding, and he doesn't want to mar your newfound happiness."

I turned in his arms.

"You got all that from living here for two weeks?"

"Combined with what you told me that first morning-pretty much. Maybe you should run a check on Jared."

"I do love a blond with brains."

I kissed Steve soundly before grabbing my phone. Jensen would know if I ran a check through any of the computers in the house so I'd get Jim to do it for me.

"Front Range Consulting."

"Jim Beaver."

"Who's calling?"

"Christian Kane."

"One moment, please."

"Kane! How's it going, son?"

"Good. How are you and Linda?"

"Better every day, but you didn't call to ask an old man about his love life. What's up?"

"I need a background check."

"Oh."

That one word said a couple paragraphs in Jim speak.

"There're some extenuating reasons I can't do it myself."

"Always willing to lend a hand. Name?"

"Jared Padalecki."

The line got quiet-too quiet.

"Jim?"

Oh fuck.

"Jim, what did you do?"

"He's one of mine."

"Why is he here?"

"I had to know."

"I asked you to leave it alone. You don't know what you've done. Dammit, Jim, what difference does it make? What she did killed the person you knew. Jensen is not Dean."

"You were my boys. I needed to know."

"Well now you know and if Jensen finds out about your little stunt with Jared, we both may lose him."

"You're not going to lose me."

I spun around so startled I almost dropped the phone. Jensen.

"Jenny…"

"It's alright. I knew who Jared was from the first night I fucked him. Boy sleeps like the dead and had his real credentials in his apartment."

I put the phone on speaker.

"Jensen?"

"Hey Jim. You can call your dog home."

"I've tried. Says he wants to be there for you."

"He's pretty and a good fuck, but he needs a little work at undercover."

"Yeah. He still thinks he can save everyone."

"I don't need saving, Jim. I'm fine. I've got a new project to go along with the restaurant, and we all lived happily ever after."

"Jensen."

"Call him home or I'll send him home needing therapy."

Jensen walked out. I heard him run up the stairs to the third floor. At least he stayed.

"Thanks, Jim. You just made my life so much fucking easier."

I hung up and debated going after Jensen, but had no idea what to say. Steve had already left for the precinct so I went to The Black Rooster to get ready for the lunch rush.

Things had remained so quiet I'd almost forgotten the original reason I'd gone looking for Steve Carlson until a grim faced Jensen came down the stairs. It was Steve that noticed the pre-occupied expression.

"Jensen?"

"Hmmm. Oh. We got another number."

"Assistant District Attorney Beth Riesgraf."

"Wait. She's the DA on my motorcycle gang case."

"Yes."

Silence filled the room as Jensen fell back into his computer.

"Jensen."

Dammit. He'd promised me he wasn't going to go so deep. Dean had Eliot and the missions to keep him grounded in the real world-Jensen had Christian and Steve, but no person or thing where he was emotionally invested enough to step away from the cold world of the machines. Shame the whole Jared thing was a bust…

"JENSEN."

"What! I've almost got it figured out."

Before I could yell again, Steve's hand on my back turned my attention to him.

"Figured what out, Jen?"

"I knew there had to be a connection. Biker gangs, Mexican drugs, the Feds letting the LEO's take the lead."

The bland expression on Jensen's face was disconcerting when it's directed my way.

"The trials are scheduled to begin the same day…all the players in one place. There's a blood bath waiting to happen. LAPD significantly down in manpower after the shootout. Dead cops, dead crooks, dead civilians. Mayor declares martial law. Good people get swept out of positions of power-yes men get put in power. The Agency that has access to The Machine becomes The Wizard of Oz, controlling everything from behind the curtain"

Steve's expression was incredulous.

"You're sounding like some kind of conspiracy nut."

"I guess Christian didn't tell you EVERYTHING." Jensen sneered. "This is us. This is what we did. Stabilize, destabilize, and assassinate the ones you can't control. Put the people in that agree with your politics. That's what The Machine was all about-to watch, to listen, to report, but The Creator taught The Machine like it was a child. He gave it for lack of a better term, morals. When The Machine would have given in to his every whim, he taught the damn thing to reason, learn and evolve. That's when The Machine appointed itself protector to The Creator. That's why it lets us see the patterns it sees."

"Not us-you." I reminded him.

He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"We understand each other." He murmured.

I saw the blue light on the tablet camera flash sending cold chills down my spine. Did The Machine take care of The Sorcerer like it did The Creator, or was it setting Jensen up for the ultimate fall? Would it sacrifice the one for the whole?

"So what do we do with this information?" Steve asked. "It's not like I can go to my captain or the District Attorney and tell them a story that sounds like a science fiction novel."

I left Jensen and Steve in the kitchen while I went to make a call.

"Yeah."

"This is Kane. Tell me about the people that bought The Machine."

The fifteen minute call was probably the most John Reese had talked in years, but what he told me added to Jensen's information painted a very ugly picture. When I stepped back into the kitchen Jensen was smirking like Dean Winchester and Steve was vibrating with resigned anger.

I hadn't been gone that long.

"What's happened?"

"We have a plan."

"Jensen has a fucked up Hail Mary of a plan." Steve growled.

"If it works we stop the bad guys, you get to keep Steve, the assistant DA lives, The Machine is safe and the Agency has to back down for fear of exposure."

"How are we accomplishing this minor miracle?"

I turned from watching the expressions chase across Steve's face to look at Jensen. The fear that was building as I watched Steve sent a shot of adrenaline through my veins when I turned and came face to face with Dean Winchester.

"No."

"It's the only way."

"No."

"Why are you fighting this? You know I'm right."

"We have a good life now. We're settled-happy. Why do you want to throw it away?"

"You're happy. You don't even like Jensen. I'm not asking YOU for anything here, Kane. I know you're not Eliot anymore. Christian is all the best parts of Eliot without the looking over your shoulder part. Christian loves Steve Carlson with all his heart, and Steve loves him."

"I do like Jensen-I just worry."

But it was too late. Jensen was gone like a worn out coat. Only Dean stood in the kitchen. I had one last card to play.

"What about this whole Sorcerer and Guardian gig?"

The green eyes grew sad and he ducked his head.

"The Machine wanted Dean Winchester not Jensen Ackles."

The expression was quickly hidden behind the patented smirk.

"See. Everyone wins. Time to get ready for my debut."

He raced up the stairs as I collapsed onto the bench in the breakfast nook. Steve pulled me close and curled over me protectively.

"I'm sorry, Babe."

"Not your fault. He tried so hard, but Jensen was never a good fit for him." I said against his stomach.

Since he was four years old Dean was taught to be a predator. He could no more change his nature than I could turn a wolf into a lamb. All we could do now was damage control.

"We just have to convince him that this is his home no matter what name he uses."

"Agreed."

Steve dropped a kiss on top my head and followed Dean up the stairs. The trials started Monday we had a lot of work ahead of us to get everyone out alive.

J2 & KANE

Steve and Dean had left the house when Jim called from Denver to let me know Jared had finally returned to Colorado.

"You didn't need to send him back bleeding."

"You'll have to take that up with Dean. He's the one broke him when Jared thought he could take him-fuck him into loving him so if he's broken it's your fault, but you can be happy now. You got your boy and Dean back."

"What are you blithering about, Kane?"

"Dean Winchester is alive and well back on the active rolls of the Agency after a deep undercover assignment that required everyone believe he was KIA."

"WHAT! I didn't…it wasn't…that's not what I intended to happen."

"Dean always did have a way of throwing a wrench in the works."

"Why would he do that?"

"Wrong person to ask, but I'd hazard a guess that in a few days his status will show 'retired' or dead depending on what happens."

"What have you gotten yourselves into?" Jim was still shouting.

"Maybe someday we'll tell you, but right now you don't need to know."

I hung up feeling smug that someone else was at least as miserable as I was over this whole affair. On the plus side Jim would stay in Denver until he was finished licking the wounds I inflicted keeping him safe when Los Angeles exploded. Before I could get lost in my thoughts, the comms we'd all put in this morning came to life. I turned my attention to Jen…Dean's computer array and watched through LAPD's cameras as I listened to Steve and Dean.

"Carlson! My office."

A dark haired man I knew to be Captain Jeffrey Dean Morgan yelled across the Major Crimes bullpen. Steve grabbed several files before he and Dean went in the office and closed the door. Morgan frowned at the two men.

"Who?..."

Before he could finish, Dean had his hand out and his poster boy smile on his face.

"Senior Agent Dean Winchester, Sir. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Morgan managed to look baffled and glare at Steve at the same time.

"Is there somewhere a little more private we can speak, Captain?"

"How private?"

"Agent Winchester has recently returned from an undercover operation that yielded some disturbing information in regards to cases we have pending."

I silently gave Steve props for his ability to talk to his Captain without giving anything away to anyone listening. Morgan came around from behind his desk.

"Walk with me."

How Dean was switching camera views as they walked was beyond me, but I was glad all I had to do was watch as they walked out of the building, down the block and into Harvelle's Roadhouse.

"Jeff!"

"Hey Jo. Back room free?"

"Yeah. You want lunch?"

"Specials ready?"

"Yeah."

"Three and a pot of coffee. Working lunch."

"Got it."

I didn't have visuals again until Dean booted up his field computer. I watched Morgan's face as he read through the files Dean had prepped.

"You got this information how?"

"In no way that would be admissible in court, but my agency's not worried about those types of things."

I snickered as Morgan gaped in response to Dean turning on the charm while invading his personal space. Dean turned serious.

"I thought you may have some people other than Detective Carlson that would be interested in stopping the takeover of Los Angeles from the inside out. If not, I'll have to come up with something else."

"The press?"

"Surely you didn't make it all the way to Captain being that naïve?" Dean's voice dropped to a croon. "I know there are people you'd stake your life on and others you'd like to out, but they're too connected for you to touch. Here's your opportunity to take away their toys-take back lost territory."

Morgan shivered as Dean's voice seduced both the man and the good cop. Steve stared with a mixture of fear and awe as Dean worked his magic. The Sorcerer indeed.

"You have somewhere safe I can bring people?"

"I do, Captain." Dean handed him a card.

"This is a church." Morgan seemed shocked.

"Not anymore. Rome had a liquidation sale."

Son of a bitch. I'd teased Dean about the church when we were looking at properties. He'd never told me he bought it. Thankfully it was only a few blocks from the house. Another thought hit, and while Dean was whispering sweet nothings in Morgan's ear, I checked the other rooms on the floor. It looked like everything was still where Jensen…Fuck. This was Jensen's space. Dean's space was a renovated church a couple miles from here. I was so kicking his ass.

By the time I was setting back in front of the monitors, Morgan had agreed to be at Dean's by nine with friends in tow. Steve and Morgan headed back to their office while Dean got in his truck and headed home. I'd be ready when he got here.

Part 3