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
Another day, another body. Anna Leighton, age 17. Dark brown hair, caramel eyes, African American. Another picture they had to add to the blackboard. The unsub wasn’t going by alphabetical order. Reid said the names were random, there was no pattern that he could detect. They’d checked the locations on a map, but nothing came out of that either.
“Where’s the Sheriff?” JJ came in carrying two coffees, one for herself and one she set down in front of Derek. He whispered a quick thanks. She yawned, she’d been busy all morning, talking to three of the local reverends. This was a town too small to have more than one Starbucks, yet there were at least three different Baptist churches. All three of them had insisted on giving their prayers for the investigation and to be seen talking to one of the agents.
“Don’t know; he didn’t come in today.” Derek eyed the autopsy reports again. Still no results on the type of paralyzing agent that the unsub had been using. He tried to think through the various types of chemicals that could be used. So far the only common result the coroner had come up with, was that the bolts had been covered in blood. Dr. Rodriguez had been pretty sure the blood that the unsub used came from a dead body. She said the oxygen levels in the blood had disintegrated too far to belong to a living body.
“I wanted to ask him if he’d heard anything more about the black Chevy.” She sat down, resting her feet for a moment. She’d been talking to the media all day and sometimes Derek wondered how she managed it.
“I asked deputy Stringer earlier and they have an APB on it. Nothing so far.” He took another look at JJ and the rings under her eyes. ”So how’s Henry?”
“He’s fine. My mom’s looking after him. But… I miss him Derek. I know I can’t bring him with me, but it’s weird sleeping in a room, and knowing he isn’t next door. I keep expecting to hear him breathing and waking up when I don’t.”
He held her hand for a moment. “It’ll be fine JJ.”
“I just keep thinking of Hotch and Jack, and how little he got to see his son, even before Foyet. And now… “ She crossed her arms in front of her, her head was bowed. She shivered a bit, pushing a lock of hair back behind her ears. “It makes me wonder if I’m a bad mom.”
Derek scoffed at the very notion. ”JJ, you’re a great mom! Henry is well taken care of. His dad’s around and you know we’d be lost without you.”
JJ smiled. “I’d better get ready for showtime. I’ve arranged a press conference this evening, and set up a helpline to ask the public about that Chevy. I just wish we had more to go on. Some kind of profile to look out for. People are going crazy, glancing over their shoulders, wondering if the murderer is standing right behind them at any given time. If we don’t find him soon…”
“We will.” Derek prayed he wasn’t lying.
“It’s weird, I’ve done this a hundred times before, but I’ve never worried so much, as I have since Henry was born.”
“That’s because it’s personal now.” Derek stated certain of his case. “It’s harder to distance yourself, when you know what it feels like to be a parent.”
“So says the guy who hasn’t had a relationship that lasted longer than a few weeks.”
“JJ, I’m just too picky for this world, the only women I’d ever want, are too smart to hook up with me in the first place.” It got him a smile and a pat on the back before she left. A job well done as far as he was concerned.
Dean leaned back in his bunk, evening was approaching and his finger traced along the lines in the cement of the wall. He ignored the graffiti about who would fuck who as his mind kept flashing back to the last girl’s eyes; to the look of her hand as it fell open, palm up. He remembered the others. There was the one with the dark brown eyes; she’d stared at him like he held the world away from her. He remembered her teeth, but more than that, he remembered those eyes. As he did he kept flashing between her eyes and those of the souls he tortured in the pit. His hand twitched, almost as if there was something missing. A knife maybe, or a scalpel, or…
The shadows around him looked like a fire, flames whispering at him. She was just a little girl, they’d all been. He’d never hated a creature more than he had the vampire that had turned those kids. The monster had twisted them; it had indulged them with fantasies of nice vampires, and pretend threat. Its seduction held just enough of a hint of menace to make it exciting, but not enough to be real. The kids never stood a chance.
And all there’d been left for him; was to clean up the wreckage, even if that had meant killing those children a second time around. Anything, before they got too much blood on their hands, or their double-edged teeth. There was no worse loss than innocence.
It was easier mocking the cops, holding them off, when part of you didn’t agree with them. When they called you a monster and you knew they were wrong. It was so much easier killing vampires when they were big growly things that came at you in the dark. Or even better, the fun type, the temptress Dracula’s bride type that you had to kill before they finished draining you. It was hard to believe that there used to be a time when even the idea of fighting vampires had been funny. He couldn’t believe how innocent he’d once been.
It wasn’t so much fun when you had to kill a kid who wore a Mickey Mouse nightshirt in her pink Barbie doll room, just barely inching her way towards womanhood, pigtails swinging along the path.
He played the game. He smiled at the pretty fed and pretended it all didn’t matter. But then she’d got to him. He should have known better, but when she told him they had Sammy… The way she said that they were going to break Sammy, get him to tell them all about him, which Sam wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. But she’d said it so matter of fact. As if it was no more than a matter of time. Two years ago, even the idea of Sam turning on him would have been as crazy as the idea of angels. Look what had happened. He was just waiting for Bigfoot riding in on a unicorn any day now.
What was he supposed to do? Sit tight here? He couldn’t even call for Cas, because with the sigils on his ribs, Cas couldn’t even fucking see or hear him unless he was standing in the room with him. They needed Cas, and he didn’t have a clue where the friggin’ angel had gone off to. He was supposed to keep an eye out for vampires. Dean chuckled, thinking he should have added cops to the list of things for Cas to look out for.
He’d tried to keep his head down when the cameras were near, and it seemed to have worked. That or the angels and their cronies didn’t bother to watch TV. They were probably too busy standing on the street to look where they should have. Zachariah hadn’t shown up yet, and Dean counted that as a win. He didn’t even want to consider how much of that had been sheer luck. The cops thought they were going to put him on trial. On trial, right in the middle of the frigging apocalypse, with Lucifer breathing down their neck, with Zachariah just waiting for a chance to get his hooks in him.
If the angels found him, he’d probably end up looking back at his current cell as the highpoint of his week, month, year, rest of his life…. So he enjoyed it for as long as it lasted.
He heard footsteps coming closer and he looked up at the bars.
“Don’t I get a phone call?!”
There was something wrong with the guy; he was dressed like a deputy, hat and all, but he didn’t feel right and Dean got up. There was something with his neck, bruising. His eyes flashed black. “I should shoot you here and now Winchester.” He actually snickered, it sounded almost girly. “Take away what little weapon the angels still think they’ve got.”
“Meg.” He could see it in the way the deputy moved, it had been in the real Meg’s body, in the way Sam had moved when Meg had been inside of him. That same smugness.
“But see, our lord, he has a better plan. Sam is coming here, soon, and once he does, all we have to do is bring him home to Lucifer. And our rewards will be never ending.”
“Stay the fuck away from Sammy, bitch, or I’ll…”
“What? Yell at me from your cage? Try to kill me.” She came close, her hands on the bars, tempting him with every wiggle. She was so close and he grabbed out. It wasn’t until he had her that she turned back towards him and screamed in her victim’s voice, it stopped mid scream. He jumped back, let go, it was too late, the trap was complete. Black smoke erupted out of the man’s mouth. The man fell down. He hit the floor before the smoke was even gone. Dean stood there, staring at the cops as they came running in. It would be no use to tell them that he was innocent, so he just lifted his arms and backed up to the walls.
Dean knew he hadn’t broken the man’s neck. He’d barely even touched him. “It was a demon.” He tried to laugh at the whole ridiculousness of it all. “I didn’t kill him, he was already dead.”
Two of the cops pulled their guns on him. “To the wall, now.” As if he could reach through the bars and kill them as well. Harsher than needed, he could practically breathe their anger as one of the feds checked on the victim. He looked over his shoulder. “Damn bitch.” They’d never let him see Sammy now, and who’d protect his little brother if he wasn’t there to look after him? “I’ll kill that bitch, if it’s the last thing I do.”
He’d never been as scared as he’d been this week. He was a good cop, he knew he was, but the recent murders were beyond anything he knew how to deal with. None of his years of experience had ever prepared him for this. He was used to dealing with traffic violations, an occasional theft. The worst case he’d ever dealt with was a domestic disturbance, when he had to arrest Reverend Torke for hitting his wife. He’d listened tightly to the provisional profile that the feds came up with, pissed off, and wondering what the hell they were wasting his time with this crap for.
He’d asked them what good where they, if they couldn’t stop this bastard from murdering their children. Their team leader hadn’t even flinched, even if the rest of them seemed bothered by his words. They should be.
According to them it was a man between 20 and 40 years old with a deep-seated belief in supernatural forces and a strong conviction of right and wrong. They’d admitted they couldn’t put a race on the man, because his choice of victims was too varied. The man believed he was on a mission to fight evil, and that unlike the usual range of sociopaths, this guy would most likely be able to fit into normal society. The man saw himself as a hero and would likely even risk his life to save those he saw as innocents.
None of that would help one bit in finding out where the hell the bastard was hiding himself. He was letting down his people. Worse, he was letting down Sharon. He’d thought about sending her and the boys over to their grandmother, but the poor woman didn’t need the stress in her life. What if the monster came after his Sharon, and he wasn’t there to protect her?
“We’ve seen this kind of MO before.” Agent Morgan had said. “It happens on occasion. Men; usually they’re men, who have something bad happening to them. Something they can’t explain. They suffer a loss, so tragic that they lose sight of things. They lose respect for the law, for the belief that the world is just and right. And because they can’t explain how something so horrible could happen to them, they start blaming their tragedies on evil, demons, monsters, ghosts. Because it’s easier to accept that a demon killed your wife, than it would be to accept that she died because of an accident, or because of a mental defect.” Morgan had seemed lost in memories.
“There’s an entire world out there of people who just can’t accept reality, so they stock up on weapons and start a crusade against monsters. People like Gordon Walker, Daniel Elkins, John Winchester… They don’t start off as bad men, but they lose sight of things. And if someone dies in their mission for revenge, then it’s just collateral damage. It’s something that happens. And they move on.”
Miller slowly walked up the stairs and knocked on the door, desperately needing to check up on his daughter. She didn’t answer, but he could hear her behind the door, she was crying.
“People like that, they don’t look at the world like you and I do. They see monsters lurking behind every corner and sometimes they pull their own children along in their madness. They don’t see kids playing make belief, they see vampires and then they slay those vampires before ‘innocent’ people can be hurt.”
Miller knocked on the door.
“Sharon, sweetie, please open the door.” She didn’t answer “Sharon, I need to know if you’re alright.”
“That’s why we have to stop them.” Derek had continued. “Because the world really does have monsters in them, but unfortunately, most of those are all too human.”
She didn’t answer. He pushed the door, it was almost impossible to move. He wondered where she’d found a key, until suddenly the door gave way and he fell into the room. Sharon was curled up behind the bed. She was trembling, her hair and shirt were drenched in sweat. He ran up to her. She looked at him and said.
“Please daddy, please, I need…”
His heart froze. He knelt down next to her and took her pulse, it was barely beating.
He went to pick her up. Her head leaned on his shoulder. Her skin was cold as ice.
“I’m hungry daddy. So hungry.”
He looked at her eyes, there was something inside of them that made him want to back off. But he couldn’t, this was his daughter, his little girl. What could there possibly be to be scared of?