The IW What?
I do not own: Angel the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, NCIS or Highlander the Series
This fic takes place Post BtVS Season 7/Angel Season 4, and sometime during NCIS seasons 4-5. Pretend the years work out together. Move BtVS/Angel forward, and NCIS Backwards some, and then boom, they fit.
This fic is a sequel to my earlier fic, “Dead Man Walking”, an Angel/Buffy/Highlander Crossover. It requires no knowledge of the show Highlander or any of the movies to understand – anything Highlander specific is explained in-fic. However, if you do not wish to go back and read that earlier fic (which I highly recommend you do), I will summarize “Dead Man Walking” for you now.
-Spoiler Alert for people who intend to go back and read “Dead Man Walking”. Do not read past this point yet-
In the Show Highlander, there are beings known as 'Immortals'. They appear to be nothing more than normal humans, save that they cannot die short of their head being cut off – not permanently. If they are injured or 'killed' in a way other than their head being completely severed from their body, then they will heal, or 'come back to life' quite quickly. When/if one Immortal kills another by cutting off their head, they get that killed immortals power. Wesley, upon being 'killed' by Justine when he get his throat slit, comes back to life and finds out that he is an immortal. Lilah also turns out to be an immortal. Various collateral changes happen in Angel Season 4 because of this, including Wesley and Lilah having a stronger relationship, Jasmine being essentially exorcised from Cordelia before being 'born' and the AI crew, plus Lilah, going over to Sunnydale to help Buffy v.s. The First. In the end, Wesley and Lilah become 'At Large' agents for the rebuilding International Watchers Council (IWC), which is of course being led by Giles and the other Scoobies. One of the things Wesley and Lilah handle, then is liaising between various Federal Agencies and the IWC – to make sure that said federal agencies, when supernatural-related cases hit their radar, don't stumble into the secret.
-End Spoiler Alert-Dead Man Walking in D.C.
Chapter 1: The IW What?NCIS Headquarters, Washington D.C.
May 28th, 2005
“-An unnamed source in the United States Geological Survey has told us at ZNN that contrary to official claims from both the White House and the Department of the Interior, there is no evidence of any seismic disturbances that caused the collapse of Sunnydale last week. According to the source, quote: “Its as if one moment Sunnydale is there, without any sign of any sort of seismic event impending, and then the next moment, the entire city is collapsing into the ground. There was no sinkhole underneath that city until the one that's there now.”
“That's ridiculous.” Ziva said, nodding at the TV, playing the news at a fairly low volume. “Why would Sunnydale have fallen into the ground like that if there was no cause?”
“I don't know, Ziva.” Tony said, looking across the bullpen at her. “Maybe a top-secret government project went wrong, and created the sinkhole.” He didn't sound like he believed, nor look like it.
“Sounds like something out of a James Bond movie.” McGee said, looking up from his computer. “A bad
James Bond movie.”
“No such thing McCommunist.” Tony replied. “Every James Bond movie is a-”
“Does James Bond have anything to do with our case, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, walking into the bullpen, his usual cup of coffee in hand.
“Nothing, Boss.” Tony said quickly.
“Then stop talking about him.” Gibbs replied sharply. He walked around to stand behind his desk and took a sip of his coffee. “Well?” He asked, looking around at his team. “What do you got?” As if asking the obvious.
Hurriedly, Tony stood up and clicked a button on his computer. A head-shot of a marine went up on the plasma, along with a copy of the man's files. “Our victim is Marine Lance Corporal Joseph Montroy, twenty-five years old. His unit just came back form a tour in Iraq and they're on a thirty-day leave. He's on the 9th day. Left the base soon as he could, hasn't checked into the barracks. His record's pretty clean, and notes from his COs are broadly speaking, complimentary.” Another click, and one part of the image cut away and was zoomed in on. “There is one notable spot on the record. Six months ago, he was busted down to Lance Corporal for insubordination.”
Ziva picked things up from there. “He has no family in the D.C. area but he does have a fiance, Emily Larson. She lives off-base, apartment, and he was staying with her during his leave. She's on her way here now.”
“Do we know why he was in that alley?” Gibbs demanded. “Or where is car is?”
“No, and...no.” McGee said, then hurried forward, getting past the answers he knew Gibbs didn't want. “The symbols carved into Lance Corporal Montroy's forehead look like they're cuneiform.” McGee looked up to see blank looks on the faces of Ziva, Gibbs and Tony.
“Cuneiform, McGeek?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.
McGee sighed a little, then explained. “Cuneiform is the writing system of ancient Mesopotamia. You know, Sumeria, Babylon, Assyria. That sort of thing.”
“You think ancient Mesopotamians killed our marine?” Gibbs looked at McGee pointedly.
“Well...no Boss.” He replied “But the killer obviously put it there for a reason. I have a friend from college I still keep in contact with. She's an archeologist-linguist, specializing in ancient Mesopotamian . I could send her a picture of the symbols and see what she has to say.”
“Do it.” Gibbs nodded, then turned to Ziva. Tell me when the fiance -” Before Gibbs could finish his thought, Director Sheppard's voice came from the landing above, on the upper floor.
“Gibbs.” She said. “My office. Now.” Gibbs set his coffee down and went over to and then up the stairs, not moving with any real haste. Jenny Sheppard didn't even sigh. She was well used to it, by now.
Once they were in her office, Gibbs closed the door behind him and Jenny sat in her desk. “What?” Gibbs asked.
“Have you ever heard of an organization known as the IWC?” She asked, looking right at him.
“No.” Gibbs answered, his tone adding 'why should I care and where is this going?'
“Neither did I, until an hour ago, when I got a call from the President.”
“How's he doing?” Gibbs asked, as if the President and he were casual friends.
“I didn't stop to ask. But he did order me to hand your current case – Lance Corporal Joseph Montroy – over to this 'IWC'. Its their jurisdiction.”
“A dead marine is NCIS jurisdiction.” Gibbs countered. “What is the IWC, and how is this theirs?”
“I asked, and I was told that it was classified, and that we don't need to know. And when the President of the United States calls and tells you the case is in someone else's jurisdiction, it's is in their jurisdiction. It's not exactly something you can argue with the man.”
“So we just hand it over to them?” Gibbs said. Not that he was going to just hand it over quietly. This was his
“Yes. In a little less than an hour, two agents of the IWC will be arriving to take control of the case. I was told their names are Lilah Morgan and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. When they arrive, you are to hand everything you've found out so far over to them, and have nothing more to do with this case.”
“I'm not going to do that.” Gibbs replied. “Not without explanation.”
“Whose name is on that door, Jethro?” Jenny asked, nodding to the door in question.
“Yours. Which means this is your problem, not mine.”
“It says Director on my door, and you don't even have a door.” Jenny pointed out. “We both know that for all your attitude, I'm in charge of this agency, and I decide what happens. There are people in at least a dozen Federal agencies and entities that are chomping at the bit to have you fired. Don't give me any reason to appease them.” She emphasized that last part.
Gibbs didn't say anything, just leaving the Director's office. Once he was back down in the bullpen, “I want to know everything you can about the IWC.”
“What does that stand for?” McGee asked, primed and ready to check on the network.
“I have no idea, and neither does the Director. But they've just been given jurisdiction over our case.” McGee set to typing information into his computer. Something came up quickly. “IWC. Its a British non-profit organization, dealing in,” he kept going, sounding confused, “antiquities, primarily. Headquarters in London, at least four hundred years old....” His voice trailed off.
“You think antiquities dealers are being given our case? Keep looking!”
“I don't think they are
antiquities dealers, Boss.” McGee said. “Given that someone blew up their London headquarters in November, and until about a month and a half ago, members of the IWC kept turning up dead.” He put up a video on the plasma. “This was captured by a street camera in London. Someone leaked it onto the internet a few days later.
The video showed a stately-looking, Victorian era building, several stories high, rising over London streets. Then, flames flew out as the windows exploded from within, and the building started to crumble. The video ended. “As far as I can tell, the case is still open. The organization, or what's left it, appears to be led now by a man named Rupert Giles. Arrived in the States a little over seven years ago on a Green Card with the IWC as his employer. I can't find anything else on him, except for a California drivers license,” McGee put that up, displaying a picture of a stately-looking man, graying hair, wearing glasses and what looked like, from what little they could see in the license photo, tweed. “And...according to ICE, he flew back to England this morning from L.A.”
“That's a lot of firepower for a bunch of antiquities dealers. What do they really do?”
“Whatever they want.” Ziva said in reply.
“You know them?” Gibbs turned to face the Mossad liaison.
“Only in passing.” Ziva admitted. “I have never dealt with them in any way, but they have had dealings with Mossad, and I've heard things.”
“Well?” Gibbs demanded.
“Whatever it is that the IWC handles, it is worldwide. They have agreements with many – maybe even most – governments that allows them to handle whatever it is without interference from local authorities in any way. Including Israel, and the United States. When they decide that something is their concern, people start getting phone calls from their superiors, and cases and events, and situations and the like just vanish. They have close ties to the British government, and most of their operatives are British. And, generally speaking, they tend not to use firearms.”
“So...what does that tell us? All I'm getting is more questions.”
Gibbs didn't shrug, but the look on his face was much the same. “Ziva, can you find out more?”
“I shall make some calls.” She said. Gibbs nodded, then turned back to McGee. “The IWC agents coming here are named Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Lilah Morgan.” McGee started typing those into his computer. Soon after, two California drivers licenses come up onto the screen of the plasma, one showing a man wearing glasses, the other a woman with long brown hair.
“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. British National. Born 1970, arrived in the States in February of 2001, on a Green Card provided by the IWC. He was fired by the IWC in late May that same year, but they didn't revoke his card. After that, he resurfaces in L.A....where he was later the primary suspect in the murder of an LAPD detective, Kate Lockley, until it turned out that Detective Lockley wasn't dead, and he was cleared of all charges.” McGee's program got another hit. “The LA Times and various local tabloids has him...dating Virginia Bryce, some kind of wealthy heiress, for several months, before he vanishes off the pages.” McGee kept checking. “And that is all that I can find on him, at least for now. I'll keep looking.”
McGee pressed more keys and the plasma zoomed in on Lilah's license. “Lilah Morgan. American Citizen, natural born. Born in 1971, graduated from Mortonson University School of Law in 1996 with high honors. Went to work for the law firm Wolfram and Hart-”
“Wolfram and Hart?” Tony said, nearly doing a spit-take with his drink.
“Yea.” McGee said. “Wolfram and Hart.”
“Something you want to share with the rest of us, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked.
“Wolfram and Hart. Really nasty. They have a policy of defending the worst dirtbags, and they almost always win. They've been investigated for witness tampering, jury tampering, extortion, blackmail, hiring assassins to kill troublemakers...you name it Wolfram and Hart has its hands in it.” Tony rarely spoke quite so seriously. “Baltimore PD, Metro PD...they all have to deal with their D.C. office here.” He smiled. “They're evil lawyers.” And back to normal.
“We'll, she's not with Wolfram and Hart now. She resigned a little over a month and a half ago...after the entire L.A. branch where she worked was destroyed in some kind of...event. Right after the raid of meteors over in L.A. and right before the eclipse.” He typed in more keys into the computer. “As far as I can tell, she's the only person who worked at the L.A. branch that is still alive.”
“Who the hell are
these people?!” Gibbs asked.