Liliaeth (liliaeth) wrote,

Fic: Eat it Twilight (8/16)

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


Aaron Hotchner stood next to the Sam Winchester and wondered just how no one had ever even noticed just how messed up the young man really was. The boy’s mind was lost in some horrible fairy tale up to a point that he wouldn’t be able to see reality if it hit him in the face. Yet somehow, he’d still managed to appear normal for close to 22 years before anyone even began to notice that anything was off.

Even now, most of the attention was focused on the older brother, while it was the younger one who… He wasn’t a psychiatrist, and he couldn’t lay judgment without a thorough examination, but the more he heard from Sam, the more he was sure that the boy needed treatment. He needed medication, and twenty four hour care. The last thing he needed was to be sent to a jail where people wouldn’t even begin to realize just how little in touch with reality the youngest Winchester really was.

He wondered if the behavior had escalated because of the separation between the two brothers, or if it had been the reason for their separation. That and the mentions of demon blood. Had Sam devolved to cannibalism? Either way, it seems that both Winchesters had been disgusted by the behavior in question.

Sam’s hallucinations about Lucifer were most likely a hint of schizophrenia, previous mentions of visions and a belief in having powers only confirmed the theory. He kept a close eye on Winchester and noticed his difficulty in moving with the shackles. They seemed to slow him down almost to the same speed level that Reid had to take with his crutches.

For some reason Sam had opened up to Reid and Hotch knew they’d have to use that. He just prayed that Reid wouldn’t take whatever Winchester said too personal. Winchester froze at that moment and Hotch peered around trying to find out what had bothered him.

The van stopped, a few feet away from the shelter. Hotch hailed it their way and the doors opened. Two men stepped out, a driver and an extra guard. Something was wrong. One of the men held something behind his back, and Hotch saw movement in the back of the van. Did they bring more back up? There wasn’t that much space in the van. It was just a glimpse of something reflecting on metal, but it was enough to warn him on time to push Winchester and with him, Reid, to the ground.

Shots ran through the clearing that served as an airfield. Winchester’s whisper of “demons” was barely understandable.

Hotch grabbed his gun and shot back into the dark , hoping to at least make their attackers keep their distance.

“We need to get in.” Danton said. Danton’s partner, Hotch hadn’t caught his name, told him to cover him, before moving up to the door, just behind the railing, and kicking open the door of the diner.

Hotch pulled Winchester to his feet while Rayner grabbed Reid. Then all of them ran to the door, while Danton kept shooting. He was in mere seconds later. Hotch and Rayner grabbed a table and pushed it in front of the door while Reid kept an eye on Sam. Danton and his partner pushed the jukebox over to the door for added protection.

“So any reason we’re not dead yet?” Danton’s buddy spoke up.

There was no real way to be sure, but he quickly threw a glance over to Winchester who was standing in the back, his shackles clacked together as he shifted his feet. He didn’t need to say it. Whoever attacked them probably wanted Winchester unharmed. Right now, that was probably their only hope of making it out of this alive.

“Has anyone been able to make a connection yet?” Their phones hadn’t worked since before they’d arrived. No service in the area. Hotch couldn’t help think that that was suspiciously convenient.

The chains rattled and Hotch turned back to Winchester who’d grabbed a barstool and sat down on it. Reid was standing on his remaining crutch, the other one had been left outside.

“The phone here’s out too.” Danton’s friend said. Hotch really needed to find out his name and soon.

“We need to paint devil’s traps.” Winchester suddenly said. “I need to find salt and ward the doors and windows.”

Danton groaned in disgust. Hotch looked at the boy.

“If they’re demons, devil’s traps will hold them captive and salt will keep them out. It’s the only defense we’ve got.”

“Sam, they’re not demons. They’re just men.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah right.”

“Sam, I know this might not look like it, but they aren’t monsters. They’re just men and all we have to do is wait for back up. Sooner or later someone will notice we’re late.”

“You don’t get it. This is a siege, it’s happened before.” He got back up from his stool. “There are demons out there, and if we don’t ward the building, sooner or later one of them will slip into one of your throats and try and kill us all! It’s how they work!”

“Sam.” Aaron was just about to say more when he saw Danton roll his eyes.

“Hotch, just let him draw his trap. It’s not like it’ll hurt anyone if he does right?” And keep the mad man busy and hopefully pacified while they had to worry about the bigger threat outside. “What do you need for it?”

“A marker, coal, anything that’ll stick to the floor.”

Danton’s buddy pulled out a pack of thick crayons. “Will these do?” He smiled a bit embarrassed. “I bought them for my daughter, she likes… well…”

Sam nodded and accepted the crayons. The shackles rang as he moved up to the door. Hotch noticed that both Rayner and Danton were keeping their guns aimed on Sam at all times. They had to make sure Winchester wasn’t making an escape attempt. “Hey Johnny, mind the window, will ya?” Danton said to his friend. Hotch kept his eye on the back entrance. He got up and checked the door. It was locked. There was a window and he stayed out of sight as he took a look out. He noticed several figures lurking around the building.

When he came back to the rest of the group, Winchester was just about finished with his drawing. Hotch recognized the symbols from the elder Winchester’s motel room. He wished that Rossi was here, he would have known what the symbol was for.

Winchester got up and started heading to the back. He stopped at the sound of the safety being clicked off. “I need to draw another one at the other entrance.”

Hotch motioned at him with his gun and followed him. Reid appeared from out of a storage room, leaning heavily on his remaining crutch. “I found some salt.” It pulled the first real smile out of Sam since they’d picked him up in Oklahoma.

“Perfect. Now we stand a chance.” The boy sounded almost hopeful. Hotch wished his world could be that simple. But he’d never be that safe.


Rossi tried to find the right words before he motioned for Novak to enter the interrogation room. “I have to check if you have any weapons on you.” With the man’s odd behavior, staying literal and pure honesty seemed to be the best idea.

Novak just looked at him, right through him actually, before he pulled a knife out of his sleeve, then he went through his pockets and looked at what was in them, as if he’d never bothered to check. A pair of keys came out, along with a bar of gum.

“I… I have to check, sir.” He added, not quite sure how aggressive he could be before Novak stopped being agreeable.

Novak simply stood there. “You do understand your rights, don’t you?” Still no movement. Rossi recited them as he took a step closer. Novak seemed mostly curious when one of the officers started frisking him. Aside of the first knife, no other weapons were found. Rossi took a look at the knife and gave it to the deputy.

“I need that.” Was all that Novak said.

“I understand, but we need to look at it first.”

“So I can see Dean?” The words were said in a dry monotone that somehow managed to hold a depth of desperation.

“As long as you cooperate.” Derek said as he took position at the back of the room while Rossi stayed close to Novak and motioned him to the table.

“Could you restate your name please?” Rossi asked, as he turned on the tape recorder.

Novak stared at the recorder for a second before hunching over.

“I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. Formerly of the seventh Garrison of Heaven.”


“I have rebelled against Heaven. My name was stricken off the roles and I am abomination in the eyes of my brothers.”

“Ok.” This was going to be even harder than he’d thought it’d be. He placed his hands on the table and noticed that Novak copied his movements. “Could you please explain how you met Dean Winchester?”

Novak nodded. Rossi waited for an answer, two minutes later he was still waiting. He motioned at the man to continue.
"I am the one who pulled him from perdition."

“Perdition?” Another word for hell.

“It was my duty to lead the assault into hell and save his soul from the pit.” Yep, definitely hell. David had no real idea what to say to that. He wondered what prison Dean had been in, and ‘duty’, that implied being given orders.

“Samuel Winchester died in Cold Oak. His brother sacrificed his soul to return him to life. We only found out about the demons’ plans for him after his deal had come due.”
Deal, some kind of deal, but with whom? Organized crime, the law? Winchester hadn’t been arrested, not under his own name at least. Maybe outside of the US? And who did Novak mean with ‘we’?

“And you saved him from this?”


David didn’t know what it was about Novak that unsettled him as much as it did. Morgan seemed amused. Watching Novak was like trying to grasp a five year old puppetmaster’s emotions by looking at the puppet that spoke up for him, while the kid kept messing up the wires.

None of the usual tells and cues seemed to work, and for Novak, even moving seemed to be something he had to consciously think about doing.

David was convinced that if he asked the man to sit tight and wait, then left the room, he’d find him hours later in the exact same position as when he left. “Dean must be pretty grateful to you.”

Novak’s head tilted. “He thanked me.” Then as if he realized that wasn’t all. “Then he pushed the tainted one’s knife in my chest. It was uncomfortable.” No rancor, no anger, simply stating the facts. Rossi wondered if he imagined the hint of fondness.

“That’s…” he wasn’t even going to think about this. Winchester stabbed the guy, and … nothing?

“So he stabbed you?” David was almost grateful to Morgan for picking up from him.

“After he and Bobby shot at me.”

Rossi raised his eyes in prayer for a second.

Raphael disappeared. Dean didn’t even blink, just lay back down on his bunk. Why bother even pretending he could fight the archangel? Dean didn’t want to think about the offer, instead he kept flashing back to their faces, their oh so human eyes looking at him. He pushed his head into the pillow, and saw Madison and all the faces of people they hadn’t been able to save. All the ones that were lost because ‘he’ wasn’t good enough.

“Sam didn’t die in Detroit. He said ‘yes’.” Dean looked upon himself, his future self, the one that really did turn into the monster people liked to think he was; hard, cold, ready to kill whenever needed. It would have been better if his other self’s eyes had been black. He couldn’t be that lucky.

“The big yes. To the Devil. Lucifer is wearing him to the prom.” The end of the world

“Why would he do that?” Whatever Sam would do, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t …he couldn’t.

“I don’t know.” The other Dean was the only one who understood just how wrong this was. “Now we haven’t got a choice. It’s in him and there’s no way to get him out.” No way to save him. “Now we’ve got to kill him.” His hands slammed on the table, a warning. “And you’ve got to see it, the whole damn thing, how bad it gets, so you can do it different.” His voice grew harsher, colder, more desperate. “Zach said he was going to bring you back to ‘O9?” Dean didn’t know what was worse, the desperation, or the hint of hope.

“What do you mean?” But he knew, he just didn’t want to admit it.

“When you get back home you say yes. You hear me. Say yes to Michael.” No, no, never.

“If I let him in, Michael fights the devil. Battle’s gonna torch half the planet.” He couldn’t.

“Look around you man, half the planet is better than no planet, which is what we have now!” Choices, decisions. The ones they sucked at making. “If I could do it over again, I’d say ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.”

“So why don’t you?” If this older him was so sure, then why didn’t he do it?

“I’ve tried!” And there it was, anger, fear. “I’ve shouted ‘Yes!’ till I was blue in the face! The angels aren’t listening, they just left. Gave up. It’s too late for me. But for you...” And now all the weight was on him.

“There’s got to be another way.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” There had to be another way. “I was cocky. Never actually thought I’d lose. But I was wrong. Dean, I was wrong. I’m begging you, say yes.” And because it was himself, he could hear the disgust, the pain, aimed at no one but himself. “ But you won’t, because I didn’t. Because that’s just not us, is it?”

Would it be now?
Tags: eat it twilight

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded