Title: Alibi

Rating: M

Pairing: Destiel with past mentions of Lisa/Dean (not shown).

Trigger Warnings: Everything? Seeing as it's a crime AU, specific chapters will have specific trigger warnings.

Summary: Destiel Crime AU. Dean Winchester is an agent with the FBI working for the Gang Unit in the field office in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. His brother lives with him as an aspiring lawyer, and is in a happy relationship with his girlfriend from California, Jessica. When shit hits the fan and the NCAVC is called in Sam and Dean start finding out odd things from their past, things that their mother was involved in. When body count starts rising unnaturally Dean ends up running into Castiel Novak again and again, as the pas begins to unravel in between day to day wars against serial killers and sociopaths. (AKA; Loosely follows canon plot progression and turns all of the Supernatural cases into real human cases with angels and demons running around in the background gearing for a real life metaphor of the apocalypse.)

Chapter 1: Pilot Fish

"You know, landscaping really needs to do something about that area they mowed down."

Dean opened one eye and used his propped up feet to turn to face his partner. "What?"

"That piece of ugly that's behind the left wing parking lot."

The blinds rattled a little in the wind. "I'm still waiting for a functioning coffee machine in the break room, I'm not getting my hopes up."

"Getting your hopes up about what?"

Dean craned his neck and grinned up at his brother. "Hey, Gigantor. What good news does the errand boy bring us today?"

Sam scowled at his older brother and rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he took him seriously, he did have Dean to thank for getting him the internship on retainer, but it was still a little agitating; it was a great start even if he was doing more consulting than running around in a court room like he'd wanted to be. Though to be fair a lot of things hadn't been like they'd wanted them to be for a few years but this, he was okay with it, and it wasn't like the Organized Crime Unit ever had a short supply of cases. "Hey Victor," he nodded to Dean's partner, who lifted his coffee mug at him in greeting, "nothing new, or I don't think so. Just some more originating files for you I think."

"What- no," Dean complained, letting his feet drop to the floor and sitting up to grab the file. "Because I swear if it's the KPO case again-" he muttered to himself as he ripped open the packaging, ignoring his partner's amused chuckle. Sure enough it was. Two new reports filled out for people they already had in custody. The case was apparently getting clunky in the system if at least existing files didn't make it to the other locations. The papers were near carbon copes of the ones in storage. He thought they were all digital now, it wasn't like they couldn't check it at their leisure to see if the case was closed. Every so often he hated being the originating location and agent of a case; though the amount of paperwork reflected well on his impressive arrest record and a closed file case legacy to match.

"Hey, don't let your mood go too sour. We've got surveillance duty tonight and you're a pain in my ass to start with."

"Never. I'm a joy to be around. Sunshine comes out my a-"

"If it helps you sleep at night, Winchester. I'm gonna go grab some grub, pick you up a sandwich?"

Dean nodded his thanks and got up to walk with his brother to the filing room. It was on the way to their legal sector and he needed to talk to his brother anyway, at least, before they got home. "So is Jess, coming over tonight or?"

Sam's smile picked up at the mention of his girlfriend. He'd only seen her twice since he'd left Stanford. "No, she got dragged behind another few days but they let her change her flight time with very little bitching, believe it or not."

"Right on, right on. So?"

"Thursday, I'm gonna pick her up around four if the boss man lets me go early, otherwise I was thinking of leaving the key under the mat and she take a Taxi or something." Dean pressed his lips together a little in a frown. It wasn't that he was paranoid, except, he was. His name was pretty notorious in certain unsavory circuits, hell even before he'd moved to Oklahoma, and he wasn't about to let his house get ransacked because they left a damn key under a carpet that anyone could find. He hadn't saved up for his beefed up alarm system for nothing. Sam saw the look and raised his hands in in front of him, "We don't have to. She could come straight to the station from the airport."

"I like that one," Dean said, pointing his index finger at Sam. He stopped in front of the filing room and clapped his brother on one shoulder, "just remember when she does get here. No sex on the furniture or in the kitchen." Sam swung his arm out to try and smack Dean back but missed as he ducked into the office with an eyebrow waggle.

Dean chuckled as he moved through the room of boxes.

While he could get to his e-mail and pull up minesweeper or solitaire when he got bored, he'd never exactly been interested in having a closer relationship with computers or the tech department. They were supposed to bring the hard copies to the room, tag 'em and then someone would make sure they were in the system. Or did they go through and get scanned into the online database first? Either way, the room was filled to the brim, some boxes messily shoved against each other and threatening to spill open at the seams, but he still felt more comfortable there than typing out and submitting the papers himself. He'd have to let someone know to move some of the boxes to the permanent storage locker in the basement. Losing files or a criminal when a damn box exploded because it hadn't been touched in 10 years seemed like the shittiest excuse to let a bad man walk.

"I see you got one too."

Dean's head snapped up and his heart almost stopped, his fingers automatically twitching for his gun though his arm didn't move. "Gordon, jesus christ man. Don't sneak up on a guy like that."

"My bad, my bad," he responded jovially from the other side of the metal rack. "Getting the sneak on the son of a legend, not often that happens."

"Oh can it," Dean muttered but his tone betrayed that he was a little pleased.

His dad's shoes were big shoes to fill, not that John had ever worked the Oklahoma City Gang Unit directly. He'd been a marine and a damn fine one at that. His father became a cop when he got back home. He moved for his job and his high school sweetheart, Mary, moved with him. His original precinct had been a little violent but nothing that he couldn't handle, always making sure that his prowling grounds were a at least a city away from his home even if did make commutes a damn hell. He didn't want to bring the work back to her. But when Mary got pregnant with Dean, John packed their bags and moved them out to Lawrence, Kansas. For the sixth largest city in the state, there wasn't actually as much violence that John dealt with. They moved to a cozy, rural-suburb area of the city with warm and practically model citizens. Most of the work load that came in were assault and battery chargers and property theft. Even then John tried to keep himself on simple domestic disturbance calls, the one or two runaways they got a year, and drunk college kids since the University of Kansas happened to be located there. (He would still consult with narcotics officers if they asked his help but he'd left that behind).

Of course no simple peace would last and John died in the line of duty. Once you hit the midwest coming in from the north and further sweep down and out to California, you start running into "Motorcycle Clubs". A lot of them are just that, but handfuls involved in weapons and narcotics trafficking, putting them under Motorcycle Gangs (which even today Dean thought sounded ridiculous). But the name was real, they were real, and their bullets were real when confronted at a halfway point for their pass offs. The Kansas branches weren't exactly anything huge, the Sons of Silence being the one that ran around the most and even then they were based in Colorado, but the people they met, a little more problematic.

John had died a hero and Sam had been small at the time, still a little too young to understand why they were putting Daddy in the ground. Dean had taken the mantle of the family after that.

He frowned at his own memories, what pride had swelled up in him for the comparison to his father sank away in an inky, black mess. Some of the things he'd done when they'd hit hard times... despite his mother starting her own shop with their family friend, Missouri. The money wasn't exactly flowing and Sam wanted to go to private school. To this day clung to his back, a gigantic smear of shame he was convinced anyone could see. Dean was convinced that somehow the vandalism that had started a fire at the bakery that killed their mother was his fault. Some hive of bee's he'd kicked over in his hurry to grow up and his desperation to provide by any means necessary. It didn't always mean meeting the nicest people. As far as he knew, no one had been caught, but it wasn't like he was allowed near the case files to begin with.

"You in there, Winchester?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and gave a half grin at Gordon. "Yeah, just spacing. Me an Victor got a stake-out tonight. The factory down at the block that's been seeing some 'unusual activity'."

"I figure they'd have better things to do to send you out there. I tell you, there's no reason to put a surveillance on it. Just some junkies and vagrants, we got bigger fish to fry."

"I hear ya," Dean agreed, finally finding the box he was looking for and sliding the papers into the front. He glanced at the stack of papers Gordon was holding for the first time. "And here I thought I had it bad." Gordon raised an eyebrow as he sorted through the files to put into his own box. "I only got two for the old KPO case and I was throwing a fit. Looks like they killed half a forest for your stack."

Gordon laughed as he started shoving papers in, "For me it's actually good news and most of these are mine. We've been making a lot of headway. A lot of gangbangers and general wastes of life off the streets. These are personal files for arrests."

Dean nodded but couldn't help but feel skeptical. "That's a damn huge haul."

"It is, it's been a good few months, Dean. A really good few months," Gordon replied with a smile.

"Right, keep it up I guess," Dean responded giving him a head nod as he existed the stuffy room. It was starting to smell like dust mites. At least that's what he assumed dust mites smelled like. That and molded paper.

When he got back to his desk there was a small note sitting on it and he smiled before picking up the phone. He dialed the number he knew by heart and waited patiently as it rang. He glanced at the large, plastic clock that hung at the edge of the office space. A little after four, Ben would be out of school by now. Despite the negative paternity test, and that he and Lisa were no longer together, they'd agreed (much to his panic and joy) that until Lisa found someone else to rely on, someone Ben could rely on, the job was hesitantly his.

"Hey Lis-"

"Ben got into a fight at school today."

"Did he win?" Dean asked before he could tell his brain to shut up.

"Did he-? I forgot to ask in the middle of sitting in the principles offices and picking him up from the nurse."

"Sorry, sorry. Foot in mouth," Dean said, sitting up at his desk. He looked up briefly just as Victor walked in and threw him his sub. He mouthed a thank you and then turned continued. "What happened? He okay?"

"Yeah, he's... He's bruised and got a split lip but he's fine. GROUNDED-" Dean could tell she was raising her voice so Ben would hear it- "but fine. I actually don't know what happened, I wasn't exactly given details and I think he'd rather talk to you."

"I promise not to encourage his violent behavior no matter how cool the fight was or how good the reason for it... much."

"I could throttle the both of you," Lisa replied but there was a smile in her voice, "you going to have time to drop by tonight or -?"

"Not tonight Lis, I'm on surveillance. Tell Ben we'll talk about it next time I'm there and not to give you any gray hairs early. We still doing weekend dinner and all that?"

"Of course we are. You know Ben would tare the house down if we didn't."

"Just Ben huh?" Dean flirted. Just because thier shot at a nice suburbian life didn't work out, didn't mean he didn't love her at least on some level. It just wasn't his life, not like that.

"Just Ben," Lisa replied, laughing a little. "All right, well, you be safe, okay?" Worry crept into her voice.

His job had actually been one of the reasons they'd separated. The long hours, with how active of a field agent he was, and one too many hospital trips in critical condition had taken it's toll on their little family life. It wasn't a job he could give up. It was too important, and until her he had never had to make the choice between his FBI work and home. Back when Mary had been alive he was just finishing his qualifications.

"You know I will Lis. I'll see you this weekend."

Dean hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, munching on his sandwich.

"How's the wife and kids?" Victor asked settling into the desk opposite him, riffling through their case file.

"She's not my wife," Dean replied a little sullen, but only a little.

"Practically was," Victor countered with an eyebrow raise.

Dean rolled his eyes but conceded the point, "They're good, Ben got in a fight," -Victor laughed- "and Lisa's none too happy about it. She thinks it's my fault for showing the kid how to make a fist."

"Well you are a shining example of a model citizen."

"I like to think I am," Dean said grinning.

Victor shook his head, smiling and with a snort went back to the papers.

"Those the super important surveillance we're doing?"

"Yeah, and honestly I'm starting to agree with the office gossip. There's nothing here that seems out of the ordinary," Victor said grabbing two papers and handing them to Dean. "A couple of bums go in and out and sleep there, occasionally a small barrel fire to keep 'em warm. A junkie here and there but nothing to imply gang activity, from any branch."

"Maybe they're trying to get us out of the way so they can prepare some type of surprise when we get back," Dean mused, half serious. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the tapes or pictures or witness reports. "With pie."

"Better be, I haven't had a job like this since my rookie days," Victor grumbled.

"We could just set up the car and say we did. Hit up the strip club and get a few beers," Dean offered with a laugh. "Or better yet, order out strippers and beers, they can hang out in the van."

"As much as I love working with you Dean, you love those girls a little too much for me to comfortable in a van with you and them."

"Hey now, I can keep my hands to yourself."

"Since when?" came a call from somewhere across the office, followed by a round of laughter.

"Shut it! All of you!" Dean yelled back into the room, smiling himself. "Silence!" He pushed back out of his chair and grabbed his jacket, "Come on, let's go. It's almost five and I wanna make a snack runs before we go numb our asses."

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . ..

The first few hours of the surveillance went as expected. Dean griping about wanting to stretch his feet and Victor rolling his eyes in between staring out of the binoculars. It wasn't until 11:00 rolled around that things started happening. It took both of them awhile to notice it, neither having truly expected to have to pay attention. Victor tapped Dean's thigh aggressively, they'd been taking shifts on naps, and held his hand up to silence Dean as he sat up, groggy. Before he could even ask his question his partner pointed out of the window.

He sat up a little, hand sliding on top of the empty candy bar wrapper next to his seat. He grabbed the binoculars that were held out to him and looked in the direction that Victor was pointing. His eyebrows shot up behind the rubber grips on the lenses and then squinted trying to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. There was a black SUV rolling into the abandoned warehouse, turning slowly and moving until it sat in the shadows of the building away from the street lights and the one trash bin fire that was going.

"Is the tape streaming to live or are we just recording?" Dean asked setting the binoculars down and handing them back over. He turned to the laptop they had set next to them and pulled up the screen for their feed, coming from the camera hooked up to their grill. He flicked to night vision to be able to see the car clearer. No one had stepped out yet. "That's a GMC Yukon, like really souped up," Dean mumbled to himself analyzing still shots that the camera automatically took every 30 seconds. "Brand new from what I can tell, running the plates, and I bet they'll be new too. Whoever's riding this has at least a little spending cash. These things start at like 50k."

"They could make payments on it," Victor suggested as he sent a short update back to their office.

"That thing is like fresh off the line nice," Dean countered, squinting at the pictures. He admitted to himself that while it could've just been an insanely well kept car it was doubtful. Hell, he'd bet Vegas money on it that when you sat down in it the leather seats still squeaked and the car smelled like latex glue and the vinyl, leather, and oil treatments. "Thing fits like 6 people plus some change, new model too. Came out this year I think." He adjusted in his seat and turned the laptop on the small table that was attached to the center console. "The only people around this block, even bangers could maybe afford the broken down creeper van down at the junk yard."

"That's a point," Victor admitted analyzing the screen. He tapped Dean's shoulder rapidly with his fingers as they turned to share the screen. Someone was stepping out of the vehicle. They couldn't make out any of the persons details, but the man entered the abandoned building and after about 30 minutes of waiting no one else left. He'd come out of the right side backseat, so the driver had to still be in the car.

"Any word yet from base camp? Do we still just sit here or?"

"They told us to stay still. They may or may not put another car to tail 'em."

"We found 'em," Dean grumbled, only half-joking. After sitting on his ass for almost nine hours now he wasn't about to abandon the chase when it was just getting fun.; though at the same time a nice cold beer and a little Skinnemax sounded like a great way to spend the rest of the evening. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a beep on the computer. "John Johnson? Oh come on that has to be fake," he told the computer screen as they waited for an ID to come up. He turned the screen to Victor who laughed a little too. The guy that popped up looked like about the purest, white bread model ( I bring my neighbors nasty-ass, home-made fruit cake on christmas) citizen, with peroxide bleached blond hair and dull blue eyes. They looked like contacts "No priors and nothing else in the system, of course."

"So is the guy in the picture or driver or just someone they swiped?" Victor wondered out loud. The guy that had entered the building was significantly taller and bulkier. They were going to work on the assumption that it wasn't him.

They sat in the car looking through the files that were being sent to see if there was anything they could use when, what sounded like a small explosion, with an echo danced across the courtyard. Dean and Victor immediately slid their hands to their gun's, sliding the safeties off and keeping their bodies poised to spring out of the car. It was still technically a surveillance mission, so for now all they could do was report shots fired and wait for permission to engage.

The radio didn't buzz alive until after Victor and Dean were already crouching behind the dashboard to the car, a bullet hole in their windshield, large spider webs spreading across the glass. Another shot fired and hit, webbing the glass more. He hit the car in reverse and hit the gas, getting them a safer distance away. From the distance the van had been at and the force of impact on the windshield, damn near going through it the second time, they sure as hell weren't packing basic amo or your regular model gun. Had to be fullmetal jackets too, to be able to drive through the windshield like that.

Just as he let the car slide to a stop, so that he could adjust his view, a final round speared through the center of the large crack and embedded itself in the back window. "FUCK DAMN IT," Dean cursed, opening the car door and crouching behind it for cover as Victor rolled out on the other side to do the same. He chanced a peek behind the side of the door panel only to watch as as the man they'd seen walking out jump into the vehicle as it turned to speed out of the lot. Dean pulled himself back into the car and sent the distress call to the station. After receiving confirmation and sending the license plate he called to his partner, "You okay, Victor?"

"Yeah, just fucking dandy," he spat out, hoisting himself back into the seat. He stared at the windshield in mild shock. "How'd they even know we were here? It's not like we're damn amateurs with covering the car up."

"I don't know, man," Dean grumbled out as he raised his hand to gently examine the bullet holes. Cops and FBI especially had reinforced glass. They weren't impossible to shoot out (hell especially if they needed to shoot from inside of the car the bullet bouncing back would do more harm than good) but all cars generally had two layers of glass and plastic in between. At that distance the bullet should've flattened out, maybe made a crack about the size of golf ball depending on the caliber. The three shots in total, judging by the increasingly large impact, until the final one that had shot through past them, the person had started moving forward every time they pulled the trigger, and their aim was damn good. "The fucker weakened the glass before shooting through the center, I'm not sure I could do that in the dark where he was aiming."

Victor ran a hand down his cheek and then to his chin, leaning against the car door, gun still out just in case. "Doesn't make any damn sense."

"To you and me both."

They waited about 20 minutes in silence before they heard sirens and FBI and local police station cars pull up behind them. They put their guns back into their pockets and stepped out of the vehicles with their hands up, just in case, before moving towards the other officers. They updated the new arrivals on what had happened before climbing into the FBI van and someone called a tow truck for the busted vehicle.

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . ..

"What the hell happened, Dean?!"

Dean groaned as he stepped into the apartment he and Sam shared. "Come on Sammy, I just walked in."

Sam frowned at him but stepped out of his way so that Dean could drop his bag on the floor and slouch his way to the fridge. He pulled out a beer as Sam dragged up a stool to the counter. His hair was messy and his eyes still looked a little swollen with sleep.

"It wasn't anything that bad."

"You got your windshield busted through."

"Oh one bullet doesn't count as busted through," Dean defended as he pulled out a beer for Sam too, who accepted it with a glower. "Look man, I don't know what happened. One minute we're just sitting, listening to damn crickets chirp and then some SUV pulls up and out of nowhere there's a gun shot."

"I thought nothing ever went on there?" Sam asked as he took a pull of his beer. "That it was supposed to a piece of cake."

"Yeah, well, sometimes things don't work out like that Sammy," Dean replied tersely before sighing and sitting down on his own stool. "I dunno man. That was weird. Like, really weird."

"They'll probably have more information tomorrow," Sam offered, finally relaxing now that he knew his brother was safe. They'd called him to give him a heads up, just as a courtesy but given him no more details other than that his brother's squad car had been shot and he'd requested back up. He stared at what was a mostly full beer bottle in his hands and stood up to go dump it out; it'd only go stale if he left in the fridge.

"Hey, hey, hold up," Dean said getting up and snatching the beer out of his brother's hand, and pulling it away. "That's no way to treat beer."

"I'm going back to bed, Dean. It'll just go bad in the fridge," Sam countered giving him brother a 'simpleton' look.

Dean pouted back a little and started moving towards the couch with them in hand. "I'll just drink 'em both then."

"Suit yourself, alcoholic."

"I'm a functioning alcoholic thank you very much."

"You know those don't actually exist," Sam countered before closing the door to his own bedroom.

The TV buzzed to life, static bouncing around before the screen flared and the last late night program before infomercials started playing. Dean didn't even bother to flip the channel, instead settling more comfortably into his couch, feet propped up on the rather nice table.

Most of the furniture wasn't his. The apartment he'd had prior to this had been much shabbier, not that he'd minded since he spent most of his time at the office anyway. But after Sam had finished out his last year at Stanford (Dean had insisted he get done before moving to Oklahoma City. While he'd needed the company of his brother after their mother's death he didn't feel right pulling Sam away. His brother had insisted on getting some decent furniture and a new apartment. Miraculously Sam had managed to save up most of his scholarship and grant money that had been left over from going to school (he'd gotten a full ride and then qualified for extra benefits). Being on retainer as a starting lawyer, he was making pretty decent money too. While, Dean's salary was nothing to laugh at, he could've never afforded the apartment by himself. He'd brought over most of his ratty things, which Sam had banished to Dean's own room (other than the couch) and brought some of the furniture that Jess had been willing to part with, with him. Dean had let him do all of the shopping with Jessica when she'd come to visit the first time and their apartment decoration reflected it.

He figured at some point that Jessica was either going to move in or Sam was going to move back to California. Dean had brought it up once and while Sam had seemed generally good about Jessica moving there, he'd gotten that 'pissed in my cereal' expression when Dean had suggested that Sam go back. While he thought it was unnecessary it warmed his heart that his brother would want to be near him. He knew that they'd eventually get separate apartments but the fact that Sam at least wanted to live in the same state was comforting.

Exhaustion crept over him and he fell asleep on the couch, waking up in the morning a crick in his back and a foul attitude. He'd have hell to raise the second he got to the office. Sam had already left by the time he woke up, with a note on the fridge that said that his boss had called and told him to stroll in about mid-day but no later. They still hadn't made any headway on what had happened and were analyzing the tapes. They also had no other current case open so there wasn't a rush, and he'd gotten home late. Dean sent a mild appreciative thought to the FBI gods as he slowed down his morning, taking the time to shower and make himself toast before heading out. He drove a little faster than he should've down the highway but he was eager to see what they had to tell him. At the very least they should've had ballistics come back.

Which, of course they hadn't. And they didn't. Dean spent the weekend driving back and forth between his place and the Braeden's, eating casserole and playing football in the park with Ben, and they still had no news for him on Sunday. He and Victor and a handful of other agents worked a drug bust with four successful arrests and a Tuesday night bar celebration. They still didn't have answers. He spent Wednesday dealing with his geeky brother, trying to get the entire apartment for Jessica's arrival, and they still didn't have anything for him.

By Thursday he was ready stomp down doors and swing off of ceiling lamps.

"Is there something they're just not telling us? I mean I know, Cassidy, and she's the damn best Squint on this side of the Atlantic at least."

"I couldn't tell ya. I mean hell they wouldn't even tell me why they thought something was gonna go down there," Victor mumbled around a piece of bacon as he and Dean shared a late lunch.

"I don't like this, I don't like it one bit."

"You and me both." They cheered to that with their soda's, not being allowed to drink if they were heading back to work (though Dean often ignored that rule). Just as the plastic bottles thumped together Victor's phone started ringing. "It's the office, hold up- Yeah?" Dean just nodded and went back to his sandwich, texting Sam who'd informed him that Jessica had just arrived at the station and that everything was fine and he'd take her home after the break and they'd get dinner started for when Dean got home around 8. He tapped at the screen idly and tuned back into Victor's conversation at his excitement. "Really? Good, all right, we'll be right back." Dean looked up, curious. "Speak of the devil and he shall arise. They got the files in, sending them right now. Said they're waiting at the front office for us."

"Finally," Dean said, rolling his eyes and holding his hands up to heaven. "Time to get this show on the road."

Dean and Victor jokingly squabbled briefly about who drove less like a grandma before Dean hopped into their squad car, leaving their trash on the table in their eagerness to get back. Dean turned off of the turnpike and turned into the massive gray parking lot, weaving in closer. Just as he was about to turn to go up a few more rows the car was blasted with a huge wall of wind, flipping them sideways and causing them to skid. The wall of wind was accompanied by the sound of glass shattering, concrete bursting open, and followed by a burning heat.

"Vic-Victor you okay!" Dean screamed out, his ears ringing from the blast, he felt disoriented as he tried to fumble with his seat belt. In the back of his mind he knew there was a knife attachment clipped to the end of it to break the seat belt open but his ears were ringing too loudly and his vision swam. All he could see was red. He lifted his head so that he could look straight ahead of him, the blast had turned their car just so that they could see the entrance to the FBI building on fire. His heartbeat slowed in his chest as he registered how high the flames were eating and how the entire front of the building seemed to be leaning forward and crumbling down. Panic swelled a little in his chest as he reached over to try and shake his partner awake, he could see a small pool of blood underneath his head.

"DAMN IT".

… … … … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. . . . . . . . . .

Three different screens were playing the fire live at the headquarters. Charlie sat at her computer screen with wide, horrified eyes. She'd already sent out the message to everyone on her list (Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, Pamela Barnes, and Castiel Novak) and was just finishing sending the footage into their meeting room. She swallowed thickly and gathered a few of her papers and a mug before speeding out of her dark tech room. She passed a few people on the way, all panicking and scrambling to get everything together as news of the attack trickled in. Most of the team was gathered in the room as she sped in, sitting down and hitting play on their big screen.

"Oh my god," Ellen said, leaning forward towards the screen. "Is that Oklahoma City field office?"

As they were watching another smaller explosion went off on the first floor, spreading the flames.

"The explosion, as far as we can tell was set off about 10 minutes ago," Pamela said reading through the paperwork and glancing at her phone. "Initial recon says it was set off first floor, main entrance. We're getting FBI techs and half an army headed over but they still want us there to profile the scene and see if we need to worry about other offices getting hit and after that we're getting Internal Investigations to canvas. I think they want us to work together on this one."

"This ain't gonna be a picnic, that's for sure. There's gonna be more media than rats in a sewer, and a lot of angry agents," Bobby said walking in, Castiel in tow.

"Get your office go-bags, we're going to start canvasing the second they clear us for entry," Castiel added, remaining at the door. "I do not know how many days we'll be staying but they've bumped this up to our top priority, all our other cases are being put on the back burner for now."

Charlie sighed as she started compiling the floor plans to the location as well as a brief history of the Oklahoma City base, why it could be important it happened there. "And here I thought that the worst part of my morning would be filtering through new applicants."

Ellen put a warm hand on her shoulder and gave her the as best of a smile that she could muster.

"I am not looking forward to the body count."

A/N: What do ya'll think? I'll publish a full bibliography for my information in a linked thing on my writers tumblr when I'm done (and a non-click version on AO3 only since ff does not allowed links to be presented in chapters). 80% of the stuff I'm talking about I've researched (I've gone through 5-6 books now, and the crime statistics for Lawrence, Kansas and Oklahoma, City Oklahoma were taken from actually 2011-2012 compiled files.) You can actually take a tour through Sam and Dean's apartment, as well as when it comes up in flashbacks later Sam's apartment. Sam and Dean live about 15 minutes from the FBI Field Office head office (one of the at least, 59 if I remember correctly). I will also be publishing, after I'm done, my full research notes for those who are curios and if needed and you have questions I can provide astricks and footnotes when needed. The rest is pure and utter fiction to the best of my ability.

I am super excited for this project and I hope you guys are too.

* Updated version published Nov. 7th