Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.  I'm switching over to these Fiction Ratings.  Fiction Ratings.

AU: ATF Thanks Mog! :)

Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven is owned by Trilogy, Mirish and MGM. No money is being made. This fanfic is purely for entertainment purposes.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Phyllis for the beta. This story is very dark at the beginning. Terrible language.

Feedback is loved.

 

Angel

ATF

By: Ruby

"Man, being related to him is like having a noose around your neck."

"You know his wife and son were killed, right?"

"Yeah, it's just too damn bad that it wasn't Larabee and that damn Wilmington that were in the truck, instead." 

"Yeah, shame to take out that pretty little gal he was married to. Whew-wee, she was a looker. Remember that red dress she wore to the Christmas party that year?"

"Hot."

"Sure was." 

"Yeah... 'hot' being the operative word, here."

"Now, Jonesie, that's just gross..."

"Char-broiled, anyone?"

"Heh Heh."

"Christ, almighty, you're sick, Jones." 

"What? They went out with a bang."

"Oh, Christ on a stick, you're going to Hell for that one."

"So what? I'd feel worse for them if it wasn't for that asshole Larabee. I figure he got what was coming to him. Can't be a son of a bitch for that long without karma catching up to you."

"You just don't like him because he busted your chops when you almost got that kid of his shot during the Ollen bust."

"Hell... don't get me started on that kid. Little shit looks like he's twelve. I would have been doing them all a favor if he *had* bought it."

"Yeah."

"Don't know how he got on the team. There are good cops out there just dying to get on an ATF team, and that little prick makes the cut? How's that happen?"

"You mean cops like you, Jones?" the bitter words were hissed out.

A hush fell over the four Denver police officers. 

The normally good-natured Buck Wilmington towered over them, his face red and twisted with revulsion. 

Jones backed away, his hands coming up in defense. 

Buck stalked him, backing him towards the wall.  Grabbing him by his uniform collar, he slammed him against the wall.  

Breathing hard, Jones glanced from Wilmington over to his friends' open-mouthed, pale faces. Jones' smaller hands were white knuckled where they grabbed onto Buck's forearms, trying to pull the enraged agent's hands back from where they were bunched in his collar, cutting off his air.

Holding him against the wall, Buck turned, staring down the other three, memorizing. "You sons of bitches better scram," he hissed out. "I'll deal with you later."

And they darted off, each in a different direction. 

Buck returned his attention to the gasping officer in front of him. 

"The reason you're not with the ATF is 'cause you're just a piss poor example of Denver's finest." Buck pulled him up and then slammed him against the wall again. He leaned forward. "You got a problem with Chris, that's fine." His eyes blazed. "But don't you *ever*," he punctuated the word with another hard slam, "mention that little lady again, you hear me? Not *ever!*"

Jones nodded, his whole body shaking as he stared up at tall ATF agent.

Buck's voice cracked, even as it became softer, "You're not fit to scrape the shit off the bottom of Chris Larabee's shoes." He shook him hard. "And Sarah... " He cocked his head, leaning in as he growled, "Well, you'll never know class like that, Jones. She was one of a kind. And you'll *never* know what that's like." He slammed him hard one last time and then stepped back, letting him go.

Jones' knees buckled and he reached back, catching himself with a sweaty grip on the wall. White faced, he gulped, staring up at Buck.

Buck's eyes narrowed, his fists clenched at his sides. "Chris, Sarah, Adam Larabee. JD Dunne. Team Seven - They're all family." He paused and then when he spoke again, his voice was deceptively soft, "You fuck with my family, and I'll take you out, got it?" And he leaned into Jones' space. "They don't call me the explosives expert for nothing," he whispered. "I'd watch myself, boy. You never know when you might buy it." He turned and started to go, but then glanced over his shoulder. "You believe in karma?" he sneered. "Well, that's me." He cocked his head, snarling evilly. "And you'll get yours." Then he was gone.

Slipping down the wall, Jones dropped to sit hard on the floor, sweat pouring off his face, his whole body shaking as he watched the ATF agent stalking away, like an avenging angel ready for battle.

"Damn," he breathed out. 

*****

Buck Wilmington walked into Team Seven's bullpen, a huge smile plastered on his face. Taking one glance around, he laughed at his friends' antics. "Another productive day, boys?" He grinned.

The rest of the team looked over at him, the game of Nerf football slowing down for just a moment.

"Hi'ya, Buck," JD called out to him.

Buck walked by his roommate, ruffling his hair as he went. Glancing over at Chris' open door, he saw Larabee hang the phone up and then roll his shoulders, standing up slowly. They made eye contact and Chris grinned wryly.

Buck walked over to stand in his doorway. "Got the paperwork from the DPD." And he tossed the packet of information on Chris' desk.

Chris nodded. "Just got a call from Lt. Halloway. Says he just saw the most amazing thing." He widened his eyes dramatically and then grinned. "Said he saw one of my agents over there teaching a 'lesson' to one of his officers."

"Hmmm." Buck pursed his lips as he looked skyward, the picture of innocence.

Chris walked around his desk, coming over to stand next to Buck. "Yeah. Didn't think you'd have much to say about it."

Buck smirked at him. "About what?"

Barking out a laugh, Chris clapped him on the back. "Come on old stud, it's time to get out of here. Let me buy you a beer."

"Sounds good to me, pard."

Chris stopped Buck's forward movement. He sighed. "Thanks, Buck."

Buck straightened his shoulders and set his jaw. He swallowed hard, his eyes bright. "Ain't no one getting away with that," he whispered.

Chris grabbed his friend around the back of his neck, pulling him close. "You're the best, Buck."

Glancing up, a wolfish grin on his face, Buck whistled. "Don't I know it!" He bobbed his eyebrows. And then he was strutting through the bullpen, gathering the others as he went. "Come on boys, time to blow this popsicle stand."

Chris watched him stalk away, an avenging angel, back from a battle.

September 2006

 

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