Author Name: liliaeth
Artists Name: lightthesparks
Beta: runriggers, just_ruth, faithburke
Summary: The BAU has to deal with a serial killer who believes he's hunting vampires. The unsub's name, Dean Winchester.
Genre: Supernatural/Criminal Minds crossover
Warnings: death of children, religious themes, violence
Pairing: not an issue
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: I don't own either, no matter how much I might want to
Notes: Spoilers for s5 of CM and SPN
There had been three victims by the time the BAU were called in on the case. The papers had dubbed their killer the Twilight Slayer because all three of the girls were fans of the books and movies. Their rooms were filled with posters of Edward and Bella, while two of them had had Twilight action figures.
Reid had picked up one of the books after Prentiss joked about how it’d be harder to find a girl that hadn’t read the books, than one that did. Hotch grumbled about the name and had ordered JJ to squash it as soon as possible. The cops weren’t too happy about that, but it needed to be done. In a lot of cases, it made the police look in the wrong direction. They’d reach for the easy conclusions before they ever got close to solving the case. It took attention away from the actual crimes, pointed them in specific directions, before they even took a real look at the case.
Yes, all of the victims were Twilight fans, but that didn’t have to mean that there was a connection to the books. Not necessarily. And even if there were… it could blind them to better leads.
Prentiss was questioning the father of the second victim. Isaac Stein was a single father, a divorcee; his wife had left him two years ago. JJ said Mrs Stein was flying over and would arrive in a few hours. Not that it would make much of a difference. As far as they could see, the woman wasn’t a suspect. She hadn’t come to visit her daughter in the past six months. The father said she was too busy ‘fucking’ their old gardener to even call her daughter when she graduated junior high.
The house had been filled with pictures of the Allison as she progressed through the years, pictures that showed the girl alone, getting a variety of awards, trophies. None of them had either the father or the mother in them. It was almost as if the father had been trying to prove just how proud he was of his daughter, while he couldn’t be there for her in person. Derek wished he knew who the man was trying to prove it to, because it sure as hell wasn’t to his daughter.
Derek moved up to the bedroom and slowly emptied his mind of all preconceptions. He needed to look at the room as the suspect would have seen it. He noticed a draft. He checked the window and noticed that it hadn’t been fully closed. There were breaches in the paint. The unsub had scratched it when he entered the room. The victim had been sitting in front of her laptop. She’d been chatting with a friend, when her murderer arrived. He had hit her with a crossbow bolt before she could get halfway up. The mouse had still been in her left hand as she fell to the floor. It was one of those pink sparkly plug ins. From the bruises, he’d then held her down; his hand forced over her mouth, some blood that wasn’t her blood type had been found on her lips. Forensics said it was fresh, couldn’t have been shed more than a few minutes before her death. She’d tried to bite her attacker. There had been abrasions on the side of her mouth.
Derek fought to remember any details he’d read in the report From the spray of the blood it seemed her assailant hadn’t bothered to knock her out first. He’d started cutting while she was still conscious. The coroner said that she had most likely been fully aware as her attacker pushed his knife into her throat. The blood spatters confirmed that she had tried to turn her head. Derek tried to put himself into the killer’s head. What had the room looked like when the man entered? What had caught his attention? Why this room, why this girl? What had made her stand out to him?
He’d managed to get up to the fifth floor, probably using the fire escape. From the look of the window, he probably shot her with the crossbow before entering the room. He’d left the crossbow bolt stuck in her shoulder. The coroner was checking it for paralysing agents.
The unsub silenced her, so she couldn’t call attention to him. Then… he stayed in the room. Partial prints were found on the computer. The unsub had tried to wipe them off, but he had swiped too vaguely to get rid of them all. It mattered that the unsub hadn’t been wearing gloves. Everything else about him screamed professional, except for that. Derek knew he had to find out why, what it said about their suspect could solve their case.
The cops were packing the computer up for Garcia. They knew that the unsub had been going through the victim’s chat logs, before he wiped out most of them. If there was a way to get their hands on those chat logs it might give them a heads up on who their unsub was going to go after next.
There were no footprints in the blood and the unsub had shown some concern over the victim once she was dead. He had pulled down her skirt and straightened her legs, there was no trace of sperm and the body hadn’t been violated beyond the murder. He’d even taken the head that had rolled under the desk and placed it carefully next to the body.
Stabbing would have implied impotence, but there was no stabbing. In fact, from the look of the cut, the unsub had been experienced enough to get through the tissues in as few cuts as possible, efficient and if not painless, at least not half as bad as it could have been. It didn’t look as if he’d been trying to torture his victim. Derek tried to check for any other clue of the unsub’s intentions. There was no writing on the walls, accusing the victim of anything. The death had been horrifying, but the victim’s body hadn’t been mutilated after her death. It was as if the death was the point and she returned to being a human being once life left her body.
Derek picked up one of the books from the stack lying beside the girl’s bed. He found a book mark at the eleventh chapter. He noted the text on the card.
“More than anything, I wanted to be fierce and deadly, someone no one would dare mess with. Someone who would scare Sam Uley silly. I wanted to be a vampire.
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 11, p.263”
“What do you think Morgan? Does this belong to the victim or to the unsub?” Derek hadn’t heard Emily approach until she spoke up.
“I don’t know, the same bookmark was found at the other two victims’ homes.” He was glad he was already wearing his gloves as he took a better look at the piece of paper. He was careful, oh so careful not to smudge anything on them before placing both it and the book in an evidence bag, making sure to note the place the bookmark had been at in the book.
“So did he give it to them to mark them as vampires, or did he pick them because they fantasized about being vampires?” Emily was looking at the poster on the wall. Edward and Bella, with Edward glowering over Bella’s shoulder as if ready to bite her neck. “What else do the victims have in common?” She asked, moving on to the next target.
Derek hesitated. “Alicia Ramsey and Allison Stein were Caucasian., Susan Kim was Asian. Both Ramsey and Kim were Evangelical, Stein was Jewish. They all went to the same school, but were in different classes. Ramsey and Kim were 14, Kim four months younger than Ramsey. Stein was 16. They all read Twilight and had all watched the movie.”
“Mister Stein said that all three of them had signed up for summer camp. All three of them were on the list for the camp’s creative writing course. We need to call Garcia, tell her to look up the names of all the kids on that list. “
“Derek.” He looked up. Rossi was standing in the door. “They found two more bodies. A male and a female, they’ve been dead for at least a day.”
“That makes it five.” He whispered.
Sharon jumped off the bus and waved at her dad. A huge grin showed off his white shiny teeth as he marched over, moving past Marissa who groaned audibly. Sharon patted her on the shoulder and pushed her towards Vinnie. The guy was obvious, but Sharon didn’t think he’d ever get lucky with the girl.
Sharon gently dabbed her lips and tried to look anywhere but at the huge artery throbbing wildly under her father’s dark skin. She could see the veins all over his face and neck and hear his blood pumping. She took a deep breath before grabbing her bag and pulling it over her shoulder. The bag had barely been opened in the entire week she’d been gone.
The other girls greeted their families. The Kims were hugging little Susan, she was the youngest of their group, her dark black hair tied carefully in a knot behind her face. Danita Menendez was kissing her boyfriend. He’d arrived in his truck. Danita had asked their maker permission to get him to join the family. She’d received it.
Sharon handed over her bag before she turned back one last time. Her father pushed the bag into his squad car. She teased him about using it for off duty trips. He gently slapped her on the back and closed the lid of the trunk. She watched their little group. It was strange how they still fit amongst all the other kids. Her father never even noticed the difference as the sun rose over them. She slapped down her sunglasses and moved to the shadows, cringing in the light.
Alicia stood under the lamppost, with her bags at her feet. She was waiting for her parents to arrive. Simon still sat in the front of the bus while Ms Burns opened the school doors. Everything seemed so normal. Sharon ran back to the bus, yelling at her dad that she’d forgotten her book bag. She shared a quick glance with Simon, his white skin at odds with hers. His tongue played between his lips, so very sure of himself as his hand patted his leg. She almost wanted to lean against him and purr. She didn’t. He didn’t touch her, she wanted him to, they were mere inches apart.
He pushed her back out and she could almost feel the grin follow her down the road as her father drove the car back to the house.
One week gone, but not home.
Sam was working in the bar when he heard something on TV. He looked up to see Dean’s face on the screen above him. His first thought was ‘oh shit’. Well no, his real first thought was, ‘Damn it Dean, you need a haircut.”, then he thought ‘oh shit’.
“After two weeks of terror and the deaths of eight local teenagers, the police finally made an arrest. The suspect was brought in to Garber’s police station under heavy attention of both the local media and a crowd of onlookers. His identity is currently being withheld out of fear of retaliation, but sources within the police have confirmed that the suspect was on the FBI’s most wanted list in relation to a series of previous offences.”
It was only a glimpse as the cuffed man raised his head for a second but Sam knew for sure.
Sam dropped his mop
“The police have asked the press to spread the picture of a man wanted for questioning in regards to the case.” Sam could feel his blood freeze in his veins as he noticed a mug shot of his own face looking back at him. He wondered how many times this particular bit of news had come onscreen before he’d had a chance to notice it. He’d been restocking the storage room in the past hour.
The picture was three years old, but still obviously him. Sam looked around, he tried to spot who else was watching. Forget passport pictures, mug shots were the way to make you look like an axe murderer. Especially if they actually came along with a newscast that said you were connected to a serial killer.
“If you see this man, do not approach him, he is considered highly dangerous and most likely armed. Inform your local police station immediately.” They showed images of the police surrounding a crime scene. “Once again, after eight murders in less than a week the police have captured a suspect in the Twilight Slayings. The Garber police still warn parents to keep their children inside until they are sure the situation is under control. “
Sam stepped over the mop It took every bit of effort he could find inside of him not to kick the bucket at his feet against the wall. He had to think. He was several states away from Dean right now. He could pretend that he just looked like Sam Winchester right? Why would he have anything to do with the case? He was just some college drop out working in a bar several states away… That’d work, right up until they took his fingerprints.
“Sam, is that your brother?” he heard Lindsey ask him, a lot louder than he’d wanted to hear. She had kept on asking him questions, ever since he’d fought off those hunters. “Did he really…” do what the newscaster said he did, kill those kids? Sam wasn’t sure how to answer that one. He didn’t know the case. If he had time to look things up, he might know for sure. But he hadn’t even tried. It was Dean. His brother wouldn’t kill people without a good reason, especially children. Not if he were himself. But he doubted that Lindsey would understand it, even if he did try to explain it. She might think that she had an in on his life now, but she didn’t. She was just a civilian and the more he allowed her to be brought into his life, the worse it’d get. Keep her out of it, before she was yet another face for Lucifer to use in his dreams.
The sirens grew louder in the background. Four years of running from something that was more like a bump in the road than the actual threat the cops probably thought themselves to be. It was hard to be scared of prison, when you had Lucifer to look forward to. The cops, the feds, the law in general, they thought they were the main players in this little game. To them it was a classic game of cops and robbers, with them as the heroes coming in to stop the big bad monsters. In reality; they were no more than sharp pebbles in the way of a barefoot runner, while the demons and the angels played with them like chess pieces. Sam could see Lindsey stand there, she was wrong as well. She was wrong in the way she looked at him, as if she knew him. As if she could protect him. She didn’t have a clue.
It was like Jess had said, she was dead as soon as he said hello. And Lindsey looked so much like her. He remembered the nurse the devil had worn last night. The poor woman had never even got an answer when she asked them why she had to die.
“I’ve got to go.”
“But… can’t you just talk to the cops? You didn’t have anything to do with it. You’ve been here for the past two weeks.”
And that’d work if this were the only case they were wanted for. “It’s not about that.” was all he said, “Dean and I… the work we do, the work I did, they don’t understand and they’re better off for it.” And so are you, his mind screamed. It was all he had left to protect her
He had to get to his motel room and leave town, go undercover. This case had gone national way too fast and he wasn’t sure if there was anywhere he could even try and hide. He grabbed his stuff out of his locker and was stopped by Lindsey. He flinched as he noticed someone blocking the light.
There was someone standing in the door, Sam eyes darted from one side of the bar to another. Two deputies were coming in through the front; he could see one more at the back. There were probably several others that he didn’t see right away. The sirens didn’t stop, and he could see the lights from the squad cars through the windows. He grabbed his phone and started dialling. Not that he wanted to, but he’d had Castiel’s number in his phone, ever since Cas had called them at the hospital. An angel with a phone… it sounded like the start of a bad joke.
The cops were on him before he could finish giving Cas his location.
“Can I help you officer?” was all he could think of saying before they manhandled him to the floor. They frisked him and seemed surprised when all they found on him was a knife. Lindsey tried to stop them, he could barely follow what she was saying and he actually knew her. They pushed her out of the way and forced him out of the building. He should probably kick out and get away, but what if they started shooting? There were too many people around and someone, Lindsey, could get hurt.
Sam struggled against their hold as they put him in the back of the squad car. It was more for show than an actual fight to keep them from taking him. His hands ached, wrapped in cuffs that stung at his wrists. The cops glared at him as he pretended to ask what this was about.
Lie, lie, lie, like the monster he was. How much of a man was he really, if even the devil was better at the truth than he was.