Liliaeth (liliaeth) wrote,

Fic: Eat it Twilight (3/16)

Title: Eat it Twilight
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


Emily quietly held her coffee as she waited for Derek and JJ to get to the diner. Business seemed up, with not a single empty table in the house. Waiters were hustling from one side of the place to the other and the cook yelled from the back at them to just give him a minute. She had barely managed to find one booth that was empty except for one man who was sitting behind a cup of coffee without touching it.

The man sat still. Frozen, his hand twitched a bit, as if he seemed unsure of where to leave it, but other than that he didn’t move an inch out of place.
“Mind if I sit here?” She took the man’s lack of a response as consent. “I didn’t think they’d be so full up. But I guess they’re having an overload with the press and us showing up.

The stranger tilted his head as if he had a problem understanding the words coming out of her mouth. His eyes pierced through her as if she was speaking a foreign language. Maybe she was, to him.

The guy was dressed in a grey trench coat over a worn and creased suit. His hair seemed in desperate need of a comb and his lips were chapped, even though he didn’t even seem inclined to bite them.
“You don’t like the coffee?” Emily asked before trying some of her own. She couldn’t disagree. “You could always try some tea instead.” Sometimes she hated being a caffeine addict.

“Thank you, but I do not require nourishment.”

“So why are you here then?” It was almost as if she’d asked the man the answer to the reason for existence, until he finally stopped and answered.

“I was told it would attract less notice if I sat down and drank instead of waiting on the street.”

Emily sniggered, “Well if you don’t want to attract attention, it might help if you at least sipped your coffee every once and a while. “

She wondered if he suffered from a kind of autism, Asperger’s maybe? He looked functional, but that didn’t mean much. The man seemed to consider her words, before picking up his cup and taking a sip. He did it without blinking.

She kept quiet after that and ordered her food as soon as the waitress came close enough to hear it. He was still sitting in the exact same position he’d been in when she first came in.

“I’m guessing you’re not used to eating out?”

Quiet guy didn’t seem too sure of what to say to that. “I gain nourishment from the Lord.”

“Yeah, faith can do that.” He fell still again. It was unnerving. “So what are you doing here?”

He took her question a lot more serious than she’d intended it. “I am looking for God.”

“Any luck?”

“None yet. Dean told me that if I truly believe my father is still alive, that I should hang on and keep faith that I will find him. “

“Yes…” Emily wasn’t sure what to say after that, or what the connection was to finding God. A search for answers maybe? “Have you tried asking the police for help in finding your father?”

He probably had, but considering his mental state, she couldn’t be sure of it.

“No I have not. Do you believe they would be able to help me?”

“Well it is part of our job.” She said, smiling encouragingly.

“I shall seek their aid then when Dean does not have need of me.” Then he looked up again. “I must go now, I have an appointment.”

She tried not to look after him, but couldn’t help a softly whispered. “I hope you find him.”


Winchester sat slouched in his chair as far as the chains around his hands and feet would allow him. He was dressed in an orange overall and acted as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. It was a good act. If Derek didn’t have the experience profiling that he did, he might have even fallen for it.

Regardless of his pretence, Winchester seemed hyperaware of anything that happened in the room, up to the point where he’d looked up when the door of the observation booth opened, and one of the deputies joined Derek inside.

Prentiss followed Rossi into the interrogation room. The older agent was playing with a silver crucifix that he’d borrowed from one of the deputies. Winchester believed he was on a mission of God, to kill vampires, demons, monsters, or any of the other creeps and crawlies that he or his brother dreamed up. Playing up to his beliefs might gain them sympathy, some kind of connection. At the very least it would mark them as human.

Sharon Miller had been missing for thirty hours now. If they didn’t find her soon, all they could hope for was to find her body. On top of that, Winchester had a partner. Someone who picked his victims for him, it was the way he worked. If it wasn’t Sam, then whoever it was was still out there.

Rossi stood at the back, he didn’t say a word. Derek knew it was intentional. He was trying to force Winchester into starting the conversation. Dean didn’t seem to be falling for it.

“You should see the metal he had on him. I haven’t seen that big a collection of lock-picks, box-cutters, and switchblades in years. “

Derek stayed quiet, ignoring the deputy, even though he knew the man exaggerated a bit. Or he just didn’t have as much experience as he liked to think.

“Not to mention the knife.”

“Knife? Anything special about it?”

“It was weird; there were all kinds of symbols on it. Like out of some satanic ritual.”

Derek opened the file that lay on the table in front of him. There was a picture of the knife amongst the subject’s personal items. The lab had found minimal traces of various blood types left on the knife

There wasn’t near enough left to serve as credible evidence, but enough to make you realize the thing wasn’t just for show.

“What about his car?”

“You mean aside of the arsenal in the trunk?” The deputy snorted. “You know, guns, knives, all kinds of stuff. A few fake credentials, most of them with his picture on it.”

“Most of them?”

“Yeah.” Deputy Stringer pulled two sets of FBI credentials out of the paper bag he was carrying. The first one was a man Derek recognized, Sam Winchester. The second…

“I’ve seen him before, yesterday...” Derek whispered. “He stood in the stairway when I was heading up to the Donnahue’s apartment.”

He pulled himself together, and took a second look at the picture. He wasn’t sure if he imagined a glimpse of black in the deputy’s eyes or not.
“Hotch needs to see this.” Derek wondered if Hotch or Reid would have landed yet. They’d left for Pennsylvania an hour ago. He continued his attention on the interrogation, or attempt at one, going on inside. Winchester was making his typical smart ass remarks. He was answering questions with questions, making jokes, flirting with a completely unresponsive Prentiss. Derek huffed a bit at the cockiness that the guy was displaying. He grabbed the second picture and scanned it in before making a quick call.

“The office of Brilliant Omniscience awaits you.” She sounded chipper as ever.

“Hey baby, please tell me you’re wearing that hot red number with the lilac print.” He finished the scan and transferred it to an email.

“Oh silly, I wouldn’t want to blind the world, especially when you aren’t even around to enjoy it.”

“With your looks, they’d cherish that last glance for all eternity.” He said with his smoothest voice. He loved talking to Garcia. It wasn’t just the chance to flirt with someone he knew wouldn’t take him seriously, but the smile he could almost feel appearing on her face every time he did.

“Flirt.” She answered, without a hint of true accusation. “So what can I do for you my faithful minion?”

“Can’t I just call baby girl?” He grinned back, even knowing she couldn’t see it. “I’m sending through an image, I need a full ID on the guy. Name, history, any previous felonies…”

“I’m on it.” He could hear her start typing through the phone. “He’s as good as busted.” She was probably biting her pencil by now. “Hmmm…”


“He looks pretty good for a fiend.”

“Careful hon, I’m sure Kevin wouldn’t like that kind of talk.” She snorted at that. He flashed her a grin she couldn’t see. “You can’t always recognize the bad guys on sight.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we could?”

He heard the sound of a bang, and looked back to the interrogation room. “I got to go Garcia, talk to you later.”

“Oh you sweet talker you…” was the last thing he heard before he clicked off the phone and put it back in his pocket. His attention returned fully to the job at hand. Winchester was standing half up, or at least as far as his shackles would let him, which wasn’t very far. Rossi was pretending to sooth Prentiss, as if she really needed someone to do that.

“Please sit down mister Winchester.”

Winchester ignored him, his attention fully focused on Prentiss. “Touch Sammy and I’ll skin you alive.” He hissed before he finally sat back down again. Winchester knew procedure enough to know he wasn’t getting away with this.

It was the first genuine response that Dean had given them since they got in so Emily went for it. “Is that why you skinned that girl in Milwaukee, Dean? Because she touched Sammy?”

‘My brother has nothing to do with this.”

Derek compared Winchester’s behavior with that he’d seen on the surveillance from Baltimore. There was definitely a difference. In Baltimore Dean had been sure of himself, cocky, arrogant. There was little or none of that arrogance left and what cockiness there was, was an act.

He could almost feel the tension in the room as Dean took control of himself, refusing to let them get to him like this. Emily went in quickly, hoping to cut him off, before he slammed down his walls again.

“We’re on separate vacations.” The phrase sounded well rehearsed, but Derek could feel tinges of hurt at the edges of it.

“Is that what this is, Dean? Is it just a fun way to relax? Do you get your kicks murdering innocent little girls?”
That definitely got a wince. Winchester was definitely not unaffected by his actions. “And why? Because your baby brother had better places to be than hang out with a loser like you? Because little brother decided he didn’t want to run with you anymore?!”

She was getting to him, and yet…
“You don’t know…” The emotion behind it tore through Winchester like a ripple

“Sammy left you all alone, didn’t he? So someone had to pay.” She then threw the pictures on the table. “Children had to pay, just because the child you raised didn’t want to be with you anymore!

That’s when Derek knew they lost the chance. Dean wasn’t in a corner anymore. She’d made a mistake, made some wrong assumption; because those walls were back in place, stronger than before

“They weren’t children.” And part of it sounded like Winchester was trying to convince himself of it, but he grew more certain of it with every word. Damn it. They’d had him, just for a brief moment. But now that moment was gone.

Rossi ordered Prentiss to leave. He followed right after her, leaving Dean behind with the pictures. They’d made sure there weren’t any paperclips of course, but it was obvious that he wanted to see what Winchester would do with the chance to look at his victims. Winchester didn’t touch them; he just looked at them and turned away. Something had happened to the man, Derek wondered what it was.


Her dad removed his gun belt and put his coat on the rack. Mike came running at him and jumped in his arms. He was four years old, what else could you expect? Steve was working on his homework, a report on the Tuskegee airmen. Sharon was holding her arms in an attempt to keep the shakes down. She hadn’t fed since Susie had been killed. They were supposed to hide, stay inside, and pretend to be normal, but her stomach was eating her up from the inside out.

She bit in an apple, juice slithered down her lip. She trembled.

“Sharon, sweetie, are you all right?”
“It’s nothing dad.”

He didn’t seem to believe her. She wasn’t even sure how she knew; it rang through in his heartbeat, in his scent. He was scared. Scared to lose her, as scared as she was about whomever was killing her family.

“I’m not going to let you get hurt, Sharon. I promise, whatever happens, we’ll get this guy.”

She couldn’t even admit that her sisters were gone, that her Maker had disappeared. “He got Danita.” Danni was in her class, she was safe.
“But he won’t get you.” He held on tight, his large hands holding onto her frame and as her head rested next to his neck, all she could see was the vein throbbing underneath. She forcefully pulled herself away and nearly fell in exhaustion. She was hungry, hungry and tired and needy. Her body was growing colder with every passing second. She had to leave the room before it was too late. Dad called after her, but she wasn’t listening.

She sank down in front of the door, keeping it shut as she held her legs in fear. She couldn't feed, it wasn't allowed, it wasn't....

Her mouth fell open, in fear as she realized, that for one moment, one instant, she hadn't even thought about right or wrong. That it had been about survival, her own survival, rather than protecting her family. There was something missing in her heart as she thought that word. Family was the others, family was the nest, Danita, Allison, Susie, ... her family was dead.
Her family was downstairs and she couldn't feed, shouldn't, wouldn't... because it was wrong, because it would pull the Hunter towards her.


Tags: eat it twilight

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