Disclaimer: I do not Own Criminal Minds, or Supernatural...I have however, gone crazy and collided the two together for the Hell of it.
Tag to: Elephant's Memory [Criminal Minds]
Supernatural Match-Making
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Chapter 1: Morgan Makes a Mistake…
He bustled through the door late, almost frenzied for his standards; brushing the ever-elusive strands of hair from his face, he hastily said, "Sorry I'm late!" whilst sliding towards an empty seat and awaited the barrage that always awaited him, the youngest, every time…and it came.
"Who was she?" teased Prentiss, looking up at him from under a veil of dark black hair; Morgan looked back at him with a look of mock-concern on his face and said, "I hope it was a she…" his deep voice intoned with a grin, which fell as Reid felt himself flinch.
"Hey, you okay, Pretty Boy?" the older Agent asked in concern, brown eyes dancing over his slender form and noting just how pallid his skin had become since entering the room…Reid felt his mouth up turn into a vague smile, "No, I mean, yeah…I'm fine. What…What're we dealing with?"
A concerned glance passed like a lit relay torch over his head as he sat down, equally appreciating the sturdy support of the wooden item of furniture and loathing the stiff rigidity of it, especially where it pressed relentlessly into his back… He squirmed slightly, both from discomfort and the intense scrutiny of their gazes, "I, uh, I was at a movie…" forced it's way from his lips; a bad lie, yes, but it was the only thing that came to his so-called 'brilliant' mind…
Rossi seemed unconvinced, "Oh really? Why don't you tell us what was it about…?" he asked in genuine interest and mild suspicion, eyebrow raised as he leant forwards on the table, fingers interlaced…Reid couldn't seem to find a good excuse, brain whirring unhelpfully and finally resorting to, "Uh…I had to leave early, so I don't really know…"
It was lame, even to his own ears; but as experienced Profilers, they knew when not to push an issue…and Hotch merely left it at that, nodding to Jennifer and acknowledging her jurisdiction and knowledge over the case.
JJ launched into a carefully prepared speech about the unusual deaths occurring in the small town of West Bune, Texas…the original killings were recent. Involving a carefully thought out, execution-style death… -via detonation of an explosive device.
The dead included a local man, Rod Norris, and it was believed his teenage daughter, Jordan, was also a victim, as a corpse had been found the nearby cradling branches of an old tree. Two cops had also been mercilessly murdered by a relentless burst of sub-machine gun fire as they arrived on the scene; this unsub was definitely in the area, and had been watching…
"It's a common tactic employed by terrorists, actually. Create an initial explosion, then they generally set off a secondary explosion in order to create as many civilian casualties as possible… In this case, it seems the unsub was intent on taking out both first and secondary targets. The question is why?" interjected Reid, intent on speaking out his thought patterns.
Rossi nodded, "Sounds that way, doesn't it? Call the local police department, tell them we're on our way, JJ…the rest of you, wheels up in…oh, say…thirty minutes?" He looked to Hotch for confirmation, "Thirty Minutes from now. Oh, and somebody get Garcia…she's coming too."
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Stalking through the shadows, his grim-faced expression belied the confusion racing about the confines of his skull, thoughts echoing, bouncing…and it was giving him one hell of a headache… Sam began to speak again, "Dean, come on…I'm serious about this! He was in my vision, and he's going to be in danger…we have to save him!" He sighed and whirled about on his brother, "And this had nothing to with the fact you were going all 'Sex in the City' and checking out his ass…? Have I mentioned how weird that was…?"
Sam spat out his beer in a slow spray that managed to encompass the entirety of his shirt and the sleeve of Dean's favourite leather jacket, "Hey! Watch it, Sammy! Jeez, do you know how long it's gonna take to get that out?" he dramatically stated, swiping at the almost non-existent droplets of alcohol with a serviette. Wide blue eyes turned to meet his own; Sam's mouth hung open in a blatant attempt to process not only the statement of what his brother was implying, but also reply in a manner that could not possibly be misconstrued by a certain Neanderthal…there was a pointed glance at Dean.
"What? How could you- I mean- Look, this guy is in serious danger here and we don't have time for all your normal crap, Dean!" Sam stated emphatically, hands wildly gesturing with all the conflicting emotions he was trying to get out and settling for a shove. He took the push and stepped back, not really feeling up to a confrontation over something like this, but still excited enough to rile up his baby brother for a few laughs. At least, whilst the confrontation was still fresh in his mind…
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The dim lights of the Hotel flickered on and off momentarily, his eyes danced about the room, looking for…there we go… "SAM!" he yelled, his brother swinging about and lighting the flame-thrower; the Wendigo shrieked and threw itself towards them, claws shearing the weapon in half even through the flames. After days of pursuit, the Winchester had finally managed to track down the creature to an old, mostly-abandoned hotel on the outer fringes of a forest in Idaho…Bobby'd been and 'jiggered the god-damn switches' as the grizzled old Hunter had put it…so they had electricity; well, what there was of it.
Six people had reportedly gone missing in the last few weeks, drawing their focus to the small forest town like a giant neon-sign screaming "Monster Here, come get me!" Bobby had called them in after the second person's wood cabin appeared to have been reduced to sawdust and firewood… They'd been on the other side of America at the time, so by the time they'd made it to the town, four more people were missing presumed dead. Local Police were under the impression it was either a large Grizzly escaped from a touring Circus, or a gang of Satanists living in the woodland Hippy Commune…
Dean had cracked a 'Damn Hippies' joke that had immediately warmed the Local Sherriff and Deputy to them, which had helped in getting the two men to relax and become more candid with their remarks, spruiking off local hearsay and rumour about the 'abductions'. Their investigations had led to 'The Come-On-Inn!" a seedy little run-down hotel at the edge of the forest and miles from town. Abandoned after a guest had accidentally set fire to their room, flames engulfed the entire hotel and ended up destroying the internal structure and so, in lieu of a tight-fisted manager who outright refused to spend the millions required to have it repaired…so it had fallen to wrack and ruin. Mould and mildew coated the walls, wallpaper was dank with ever-present moisture and there was little to no light in the place. Perfect Wendigo territory. It was dark, dank and cool…just the place for it to drag it's victims, kicking and screaming, for storage…
Cornered in a back bedroom full of bunk-beds, generally reserved for the staff and caretakers who required a bed for the night, the Wendigo had hidden in shadows; hissing like an angry snake and tensing…
Then it had struck out as the fire turned on it; shards of metal flew all over the place as the flame-thrower broke apart, something scored at Sam's face as he stumbled back…the instinctive need to protect his baby brother flared from deep within his chest and then Dean had leapt into the path of the angered creature. He jammed the demon-hunting knife deep within its flesh…it screeched ear-splittingly, for a second time and shrunk away as Dean spun around…
"Sam, you okay?" he yelled, noting the way the other pressed a hand to the side of his face; Sam nodded, pulling away to show a deep cut within his cheek, blood dripped down the side of his face and covered the hand previously concealing the wound. Frowning deeply, Dean wrenched his own miniature flame thrower from where the handle had tucked into the light leather of his belt; it clicked into a definite 'On' position as he held out a lighter and squinted in anticipation of the sudden flare of brightness.
Sure enough, though it had nearly blinded him at the time, flames burst out and curled around the darkened room, catching hold of old, frayed curtains, chairs, tables, the mattresses all rotten and threadbare…Fire engulfed the room, and sitting, shrieking, in a corner was the Wendigo, too scared to move. Dean watched with something approaching satisfaction as it burned, before Sam grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him bodily our the door…
He should have seen it, should have known something was wrong…racing outside and slamming into the hood of the Impala in their rush, Dean felt the body beside him lose grip and sag; Sam hit the ground on his knees, head in his hands and eyes shut tight against the pain…gasping at the intensity of the vision. Watching on with concern, "Oh Sammy, not here…" he slammed onto his jean-clad knees and held his brother as he rocked, eyes widening in fear as Sam's head jerked upright to stare off wildly into nothing, with fevered eyes.
"What? What is it? Speak to me, Sam!" he had yelled. The blue eyes closed, and the ragged breathing subsided as quickly as it had started, before Sam had turned to him. "A-a man, I saw him…there was a demon, it was- I don't know the vision wasn't very specific, but I know I saw demons closing in on him, one taking human form and tearing his heart out… I think I've seen him before on television, he's with the…FBI I think, but he doesn't look like the 'kick down the door' type…"
Dean stiffened at his side as the last words registered, "Whoa, Whoa, whoa…back up! This guy is in the FBI? Are you freaking insane? Look, it's sad and all that, but I think we're going to have to let this guy go…if you haven't forgotten, they're kind of looking for us right now!" He heard a sharp intake of breath, Sam had closed his eyes again; and breathed out slowly before replying, "That…wasn't all, I saw…his badge and- some others I assume were on his team, but there are demons following him, that's for certain. Dean, we have to help him, we HAVE to…this guy doesn't look like he could fight his way out of a plastic bag…let alone fend off a demon!"
"Yeah, yeah…I got it, gotta be the hero again…Whatever, we'll talk about this later, right now we need to get you to bed," he groaned, hefting his brother upright and fumbling for the door handle; it popped open easily and he slid Sam into the Passenger seat with little effort. For his part, Sam was doing a magnificent impression of a pile of jelly and was exceptionally floppy as he was ushered into his seatbelt.
Dean sighed heavily and swung into the Driver's seat, it was going to be a loooooong ride…
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Sleeping spread-eagled upon the horrifying beige of the hotel's sheets, cares forgotten for another day and, Dean had note with a brotherly smirk, he was absolutely adorable when he was asleep, just like when they were kids. A subconscious shudder ran through him at that thought, trying to get Sammy in bed on time back then was worse than kissing a Zombie! Who knew small children had so much energy?
Finding the rectangle of power located in between a handful of cushions on his bed, Dean clicked the television on as softly as he could, wincing as he realised the last guest was probably a total jerk because the thing was blaring at full-volume! Maybe he should just take a surreptitious look at the Guest Book or Hotel Records and go do some 'hunting' of his own…
Sam shot bolt upright, eyes snapping to the scrolling screen, "There! Him! See?" he yelled, arms snapping out to point at the skinny man on the screen, standing behind a blonde who appeared to be briefing the reporters on a serial killer recently brought to justice in Quantico, Virginia; Dean squinted at the man, before giving a small chuckle, "Him? Demons are after him? What, are they out of toothpicks or something?" The scepticism was fairly obvious in his voice as the words rang out, Sam gave him a swift punch to the arm, "Stop it man, I'm serious…when have my visions ever been wrong?"
Briefly his lips had parted to deliver a crippling retort, but paused at the logic of his brother, "I-…" he sighed deeply, "I'll go get the car…"
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"So, just to clear this up…we're going to Quantico, Virginia, yes? You know the place the goddamn FBI Headquarters is? As in, crawling with people who would just love to arrest us? I'm sorry Sammy but this is kind of hard for me to take!" Dean turned to look at the sleeping form by his side, Sam completely oblivious to his ranting; but then, Dean had known Sam was asleep long before he'd even opened his mouth…he'd never force that kind of thing on the kid otherwise. It wasn't his fault these visions…or whatever, where coming to him…it was just some sick Cosmic Joke being played out and they'd missed the punchline…
"Ah, Sammy…just…forget it." He took a hand off the wheel to vaguely wave at his brother, who shifted and murmured something that sounded vaguely like a threat involving hand-cream and an octopus at him… Oh, that was too good…Dean pulled off the road for a moment to scrabble for a pen and paper…
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"Rise and shine Sammy! Or does Sleeping Beauty need a kiss?" Sam jerked awake with a "From you? Yeah right! Your garlic breath would probably kill me…" Which had the desired effect of totally stumping Dean for a comeback; the Impala was double parked out the front of a skeezy Motel. The uniquely titled 'Hide'n'Seekers Highway Luxury Hotel' complete with rundown, garishly painted buildings and a fair stash of unique looking people. Hell, judging from the satellite dish, the rooms probably came with free porn…which was fine as long as it kept Dean happy –which it would… Sam sighed, "Alright, I'll drive the next part of the trip…did you drive all night, you look like crap! Hey, what time is it?"
Inhaling deeply Dean had turned and smirked, "Midday, big boy! You've been sleeping for ages, we're almost to Quantico, by the way, another few hours and we'll be in position to save your Demon Toothpick of an Agent…" He narrowly avoided the empty beer bottle as it soared out the open car window…
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The incessant tapping of keys was beginning to get to a generally hung-over Dean, face-down in the robin-egg blue pillows provided by the cheap hotel/motel they'd checked into last night after completing the nearly eight hour drive… "Dude, either you stop playing technosexual with your cyber-girlfriend there or I'm gonna have to shoot you…" he muttered around the soft fabric.
Wasn't it enough punishment that the pervading high-pitched buzzing whine and crackle of garish neon sign just to the far right of their room, large palms and smiling banana proclaiming this "The Palm Islands Resort", was drilling into his skull like…well, a drill…
Then, blessed silence…
Sam's fingers left off the laptop for a mere instant before…and ominous clicking started, which resulted in a near-instantaneous pillow-to-the-head. It was thrown back with force and a high-pitched, "Dude?" half question, half exasperated yell. "Look, I think I've got a lead, but…we can check it out after Breakfa- Lunch, now get your ass out of bed. And no more drinking, all right?"
Nothing but a strangled whine and a rumbling stomach answered him…
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Chilly air seeped into the Impala, engine still warm from being turned off so recently. Pressing his forehead against the window, Dean sighed heavily, "Sammy…" he began, but was cut off…the younger brother shifting the portable computer on his lap and sighing, snapping it's lid shut before stowing under the seat and speaking. "Look, Dean…I- I wasn't entirely truthful about- about what I saw in my vision, there was one other thing…"
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Turning back to him with a look of abject horror and anger, Dean gasped out, "Are you kidding me? We risked our lives for some…freakin' junkie cop-slash-Toothpick?" Through the window, the group's sign was clearly visible, all the members milling about before the meeting began… "Beltway Clean Cops" stop out in deep black letters on the crisp, pure white paper. Something twitched under Dean's eye, "Are you telling me, we came all this way, to the middle of FBI-Central full of cops who would just love to arrest us…to save an addict?" he growled at the silent, stoic façade Sam was throwing up between them.
"N-No, Dean, please…it's not like that, I got the sense…it wasn't his fault it happened. Not much else, but I had an intense feeling it wasn't his fault…" the other soothed, trying desperately to shut Dean up so their position wouldn't be given away. Ruffling his jacket against the cold, Dean stalked away to sit in a shadowed corner, "Whatever man, we'd better not get freakin' haemorrhoids from sitting on this cement at minus a thousand degrees…or I am totally putting spikes on your chair." He warned in his best 'I'm actually concerned, but nothing on, or below, this Earth will make me admit it…' voice. Sam just smirked…
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Soft footsteps clattered against the cement, someone in a hurry. The brothers jerked upright, Dean softly complaining about the generalised lack of feeling in his backside and Sam sighing, simultaneously rolling his eyes and wondering what he' done to get Dean for a brother. Only in jest, of course… Two pairs of shoes clacked against the pavement, both paused as the Winchesters held their breath…words, something about a medallion? One-year? Who knew…the heavier set disappeared into the building.
Turning around the corner, Sam ran straight into a tall, skinny man wearing a gun at the front, "whoa, hey, sorry man, I-…" he caught his breath as the man's face came into view, Oh… Luckily, Dean interjected, "Hey, yeah, Sammy here is a giant klutz, sorry about that! I'm Dean, this is Sam, we're new here, uh…can you tell us the way to the nearest fast food joint…kinda starving, here?"
The younger man flinched momentarily at the abject physical contact, but blinked and responded, "Sure, just down that road, I'm uh…Dr Reid, Spencer Reid; it's no problem really, I do my fair share of stupid things too, in fact on a daily- wait, sorry, off topic. Just go down that road and to the left, you should have a choice of a dozen different little take-aways and two separate fast food restaurants." His phone began to buzz insistently. "I, uh, I have to go now, but it was nice meeting you! Have a nice time in Quantico!"
And he was gone, Dean didn't miss the way Sam gazed after the other with an incredulous look on his face, and so elbowed said brother in the ribs, "Oooh, developing a little man-crush there Sammy-boy?" he laughed, but stopped abruptly as Sam's expression came into view. "D-Dean, that was him…"
TBC...
First Chapter out of the way... Hope you liked it, it gets better from here!^^
Chapter 2: Garcia's Gorgeous Genius...
PLEASE REVIEW, tell me what you think!