Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The faint sound of dripping blood was the only noise to be found in a dark, desolate room, isolated from the world around it. The room was hidden underground, mostly empty aside from the two women being help captive. Their arms hung above them, cuffed and tapped into, their blood being drained into separate bags placed beside them. The both of them were similar in stature and appearance: thin with long, brown hair and an identical light skin tone. As of that point in time, nobody had been able to locate the two women despite any efforts the local police had put into said search. They had been labeled as missing for days, yet every search was inconclusive. The man holding them captive was intelligent, and this was in no way his first rodeo.

He had nearly drained the women empty, occasionally slipping back into the room to make sure they hadn't woken up. They were both in empty dream states, their minds miles away as their lives slowly dwindled to a halt. He smiled in triumph, knowing it wouldn't be long before he could feed on their blood -- the kind he had grown accustomed to consuming. He paced around the two people he had captive, watching their eyes race under their eyelids. With a single finger, he transferred more dreams to his victims by simply touching their necks. And as they idly hung from the ceiling, their final moments prepared to pass. For the two of them, all was lost.
______

Sam sighed and scrolled through more tedious newspaper articles displayed on his laptop, none of them particularly piquing his interest. His older brother, Dean, sat beside him, sifting through similar articles in a physical copy of another paper. They had been on the hunt for a case for a while now, hoping for something to pop up. Sam reached for his coffee, eyes glued to a particular story about the kidnapping and murder of two women: Karen Smith and Alicia Kennedy. "You know, out of all the terrible things we read, sometimes I wish we could stop things like this," he said, highlighting the headline before turning the computer around for Dean to see. Dean looked up from his own work and skimmed through the article, sitting back with a slight groan.

"Not that I don't agree, Sammy," Dean replied, placing his feet on the table as Sam pulled his laptop back to himself, "but we have a certain criteria to meet. I'm sure that bastard'll get what's coming to him at some point." Sam's jaw dropped as he scrolled down to read the remaining section of the article, lightly hitting Dean's foot with his hand. "What? Now you got a problem with my feet on the table? Are your panties ever not in a twist?"

"No, no; it says that the two women were," Sam paused, furrowing his eyebrows, " 'drained and disposed of'. That sound a little bit more like our kind of gig?" Dean shrugged, closing his paper and sitting up, throwing it onto the table. "They found pricks in the women's wrists where their blood was drained from. It also says that the missing persons report was filed nearly a week ago, and that the cause of death was a lack of blood." Sam chuckled closing his laptop and reaching behind him for his jacket. "This may be up our alley after all."

"Good," Dean responded, standing and reaching for his own jacket; "that means we can get out of this freakin' place. I feel like a caged animal or something." With a smile he grabbed the car keys from the table as Sam tried to memorize the address of coroner's office where someone had to be currently searching for more clues as to why Karen and Alicia had been kidnapped and murdered. Sam shut his laptop, holding it at his side and following Dean out of the room into the open. Dean locked the door and pointed to the Impala, the brothers then making their way to the car. He was practically jumping with excitement -- he had been waiting to work a case for so long it was practically criminal. If anything, he would have ended up punching a wall just to feel the rush of blood it brought. He needed to occupy himself with something or he felt as though he would suffocate in the bunker.

Sam read out directions to the office from the GPS on his laptop, Dean attempting to make haste and arrive as soon as possible. The drive was relatively calm with Dean quietly singing along to the Led Zeppelin emitting through the car's speakers and Sam figuring out where to go. At some point they stopped to pull their cheap-ish suits out of the trunk, along with their false FBI badges and emergency weapons. They found a random place where they were hidden to stop and change, throwing what they were previously wearing into the trunk and double checking that they seemed official enough. When they arrived at the office, they were greeted by a local officer who asked for their names, which were stolen from some famous rock band, without the man being able to conclude that they were lying. They questioned the officer about the victims, unable to obtain much more information than what was stated in the article, and also being denied access to the bodies without much retaliation.

As they made their way back to the Impala, Dean sighed and leaned against the hood, wiping a single bead of sweat off his forehead. "So, whaddya think?" Sam watched as people went in and out of the office, some officers and some most likely something else.

He gnawed on his lip before replying, "Sounds a bit like a Djinn to me." Dean nodded in agreement. "Which means we need to hunt it down and make sure it doesn't open its eyes once we get ahold of it." Then he shook his head and looked down to the pavement, a slight chuckle passing his lips. "We have a good while to wait before he attacks again. He completely drained two women, which gives him a decent chunk of time before he needs to hunt again." He paused again, deep in thought. "Unless he's stockpiling." With that, Dean grinned and straightened his back, walking over to the driver's side of his car.

"I'm betting on the second option. Let's hunt this sonnuva bitch."

Chapter Text

"Gah!" Agent Spencer Reid gasped, quickly unraveling nearly the entire roll of paper towels in an attempt to wipe the burning coffee from his hand, cursing under his breath as it continued to spill onto the floor near his feet. He managed to set the now empty styrofoam cup in a more correct position on the counter and return the coffee pot back under the machine as the boiling liquid spread below him. "Help," he squeaked, looking towards the rest of his partners in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. After a moment, Agent Emily Prentiss was kneeling beside him in an attempt to help mop up what had been spilled. When the floor was as clean as it was going to get (and they had run out of paper towels), Prentiss smiled and helped Reid back to his feet with a quiet chuckle.

"You know, the coffee actually goes into the cup. I thought you were some alleged genius?" she joked, lightly elbowing Reid's side as he tossed the cup into the trash and walked towards his desk, his head hung low in shame. "Hey!" Prentiss shouted, jogging to catch back up to the youngest agent; "I was just kidding." She watched as he placed his bag to the side of his desk and crossed one leg over the other, his pant leg sliding up and revealing a bright pink sock. Prentiss smiled as she watched him write something down in the notebook that never seemed to leave his side. "So..." she began, a feeling of triumph elevating her mood when Reid actually looked up at her; "what's up with the socks? I've wanted to ask about them for a while." Reid smiled at the opportunity to inform someone on something that they surely didn't know, clearing his throat before speaking.

"Well, actually--"

"Everyone! We've got a case!" Agent Jennifer Jareau unintentionally interrupted, holding a pile of manilla folders above her head and grinning. Prentiss gave an apologetic glance to Reid before retreating to her own desk, grabbing one of the folders from J.J.'s hand. J.J. then passed out the remaining folders to Reid and Agent Derek Morgan, walking back to the center of the room once everyone had the information in their hands. "So far there have been two victims of both a kidnapping and murder, both women with a similar appearance and the same cause of death, which was a lack of blood. Apparently the two of them had been reported missing for roughly a week when their bodies finally showed." Morgan nodded along as she spoke, reading all of the same information from the papers found in the folder. "There are no suspects or leads, so we've been invited to Kansas to speak with some authorities and assess a profile."

Agent Aaron Hotchner then appeared, leaving his own office to make an announcement to the team. "Everyone begin packing for Kansas." He paused as the agents collectively nodded, his face stern and emotionless as it typically was. "Wheel's up in thirty."

Profiling agents Reid, Prentiss, Jareau, and Morgan followed Hotch's order, packed and on the jet within thirty minutes. Once on the jet they were joined by Hotch himself and another profiler by the name of Jason Gideon, the eldest of the team. Everyone was occupied in the usual way: Morgan sitting back and listening to music; Reid metaphorically tearing through a book at an (always) impressive pace; J.J., Gideon, and Prentiss participating in a card game; all while Hotch wrote information down. Since the ride was relatively short, they began planning out everyone's jobs after only abut forty-five minutes of simply passing the time.

"Prentiss," the agent's eyes darted up to Hotch at her name, "you and Reid check out where the bodies were found; see if they were simply brought there or murdered there." Reid and Prentiss both nodded once to signify that the order was understood. Hotch turned to Gideon and smiled. "Gideon, Morgan, and I will all spread out and speak with the families of the women who were murdered. Since there is no definite crime scene, it is true that we will have to wait out for the unsub to strike once again. From what we've determined thus far, he holds his victims captive before they've been fully drained of blood, meaning we'll have a week, at the least, to gather as much information as we can and possibly even profile him. As of now, there isn't much to build off of besides the obvious: we are looking for a serial killer with no clear intention of sexual release," Hotch continued. He glanced at his watch momentarily before continuing. "But first we have to set up."

The police station was relatively small, at least to the profilers who were accustomed to a much larger setup. They were greeted by an officer who thanked them for coming, ushering everyone into a mostly vacant conference room. In the center of the end of the room sat a large, round table, chairs all pointing towards the back wall where two clean whiteboards stood. The table was cleared, making the room feel even moreso empty and lonely. Everyone circulated towards the back wall and began sticking pictures of the victims to one of the boards, attempting to make any connections about the two women as they could muster. "White with brown hair," Morgan mused, studying one of the photographs, "that sure does narrow it down." Reid stood beside him with his arms crossed, his mind racing to begin a profile of the unsub that they no important information about. "Someone has to get over to get a closer look at those bodies or we've got nothin'."

"Prentiss?" Reid questioned, holding one of the photographs closer to himself for better inspection; "Could we manage a visit to the coroner?" He turned to the other agent who nodded in reply, a short distance from the hoard of people around the whiteboard. "We should probably get to that right now." Reid brushed past Morgan and retrieved his satchel from the table, then following Prentiss out of the room. Morgan stood in place, hardly phased by Reid lightly bumping into him as he exited.

"What's the relation between the two women?" he asked J.J., who was standing off to the side with Hotch. She retrieved one of the folders and flipped to the page written about Karen Smith, one of the victims, then to the page about Alicia Kennedy. She furrowed her eyebrows once she realized that the two women were entirely unrelated: they didn't work together, go to school together, live in the same neighborhood, or even know of each other.

"Apparently nothing but appearance. Karen and Alicia were complete strangers," she responded with a bitter laugh.

"Get Garcia to search for any similar kidnappings in the area," Hotch ordered Morgan, then turning to thank J.J. Morgan nodded and began dialling Agent Penelope Garcia's number back at the Bureau, stepping away from the board to give Gideon more space. Gideon read through the file and began profiling the unsub in his head, occasionally looking back and forth between the pages and the photographs attached to the board. Everyone turned to Morgan as he thanked Garcia for her help and shook his head with disappointment.

"Nada." He sighed. "There's been kidnappings, but none where women were literally drained to death." He slid his phone back into his pocket and gnawed on his bottom lip, looking to his superior for guidance.

Hotch cleared his throat and pointed to the door. "Let's go talk to the families and try to make some progress."

Chapter Text

Sam and Dean restlessly attempted to waste time, awaiting a call from the officers working on locating a "killer", which they knew all too well wasn't human. They had already done as much as they could when it came to finding the Djinn's hiding place, but it was more difficult than one would like to admit. In fact, they had found what they predicted was a hiding place for the Djinn at some point, however it was apparent that the monster had moved camp somewhere else (much to the brothers' dismay). Though it wasn't something they enjoyed doing, that meant they would have to wait and see if the next victim were to be dumped where the others were or somewhere new, which would give them a broad idea as to where to search next. They were moreso experts at hunting, not investigating.

"Dammit!" Dean shouted, sitting on the edge of his bed in the motel room he and Sam were currently sharing. "This is taking too frigging long. We need to hunt him down and take care of business." Sam sighed and sat next to Dean on his own bed, at a loss for ideas. "He really doesn't wanna be tracked. He clearly knows somethin' is up and we haven't even come near him." With his head in his hands Sam nodded. Both of them were stressing over what should have been a simple case. You hunt something and then you kill it, which sounded easy enough. But with the Djinn covering its tracks so efficiently, they had practically nothing to build off of and were left in the dark.

Things started to look back up when Sam received a call from one of the officers, informing them that another body had turned up. Within minutes, they were back on the road and to the original crime scene where another lifeless woman had been dumped. It was strange how the Djinn moved house but continued to use the same dump site; yet that still helped Sam and Dean. They knew it was close, and obviously not as intelligent as they had initially believed. Dean observed the body, taking notice that the only open wound on her body was the prick where a needle was inserted. He nodded to Sam and threw his used latex gloves in the trash with disgust.

However, what they didn't know was that a whole other set of FBI agents had arrived at the scene, official, unlike Sam and Dean. Hotch led the group, holding up his badge in order to get to the body before they were interrupted, only to be interrupted nonetheless. "Excuse me?" he said as an officer ushered them all back slightly. Confused, the profilers all looked to Hotch who simply sighed with annoyance. "We're with the FBI, the Behavioral Analysis Unit, to be exact," he explained. The officer simply chuckled and jerked a thumb behind himself to Sam and Dean who were off discussing the Djinn in the distance.

"There's already two agents here, how many could you possibly need?" the officer questioned. Hotch looked beyond the man to where he was pointing, noticing the way Sam and Dean stuck out with their black suits. They looked official enough, which explained how they managed to gain access, but Hotch knew for a fact that they were not FBI. The only agents who would be on this case were ones that either worked with or directed by Hotch himself, which was an immediate red flag. "I'm obligated to ask why you're here if there's already two able-bodied agents."

"Those aren't agents," Hotch declared with a whisper, looking behind himself to Gideon. "I don't know who they are, but we would have been notified if other agents had been sent to the scene," he added quietly. He turned back to the officer, his face stern and clearly far from pleased. "I don't care how many agents are here," he lied fluently, "we still need to see that body. If you haven't noticed, we're dealing with a killer. Women's lives depend on it." The officer gave a lousy sigh and stepped to the side to let them through. Over his shoulder, Hotch nodded to Gideon who quickly walked up to the agents, placing a hand on each of their shoulders and giving them a fake smile. Reid and Prentiss both continued on their way to the body, ignoring the imposter agents and continuing to work.

Agent Hotchner introduced Morgan and himself to the other officers, his eyes glued to Gideon and the two men pretending to be agents. Very quietly, Gideon spoke to Sam and Dean, appearing as though he was making friendly conversation with them from an outside perspective. "We know you aren't agents. Who the hell are you?" he questioned with a smile, his hands holding the brothers in place. Sam chuckled nervously, looking straight into Gideon's eyes.

"Sir, I think there's been a mistake," he lied, pulling his badge out of his pocket and holding it open for Gideon to examine. "I'm Agent Plant, and this is my partner, Agent Page." Dean managed a sheepish smile when Gideon's eyes slid over to him, the brothers' hearts both racing.

"I hope you really don't believe I'm that unintelligent," Gideon replied, continuing to grin. "That badge is faker than the casing's leather. I'll only ask you one more time, who are you?" he pressed, finger digging into Sam and Dean's shoulders. Hotch nervously watched, hoping these men weren't something terrible -- some kind of threat. With any luck they were just two friends messing around to look at a dead woman. Morbid, but almost entirely harmless if they weren't caught. Dean wriggled beneath Gideon's grip, freezing when Gideon looked back into his eyes. it was obvious by this point that they were definitely caught. "Posing as an agent is a federal crime, and the clock is ticking."

"Alright, listen," Dean began, tired of lying to everyone about who they were and what they do; "I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam." Sam managed a pathetic smile, intimidated by Gideon despite being taller than him. "We..." Dean paused, glancing at his brother to silently ask if he should continue, relieved when Sam gave a curt nod, "...we hunt monsters." There was a break from everyone speaking, as Gideon squinted at Dean, picking him apart and trying to figure out just why that was the excuse Dean went with. There were so many plausible excuses, which is why "monster hunter" didn't sit well with Jason in any way. "Shit," Dean cursed under his breath. He knew Gideon wasn't going to believe a word he said; the catch was that he wasn't even lying.

"I'm going to need your last names," Gideon demanded, confused but refusing to be phased. Just because they said something strange didn't mean he was going to let them get away with committing a federal crime. "Once I have them, I'm going to have you quietly detained." Sam swallowed a lump in his throat and quickly glanced to his brother before looking back to Gideon.

"No," he said quickly. Gideon raised an eyebrow, surprised that someone would dare resist an authority figure in a position such as this. "No, we won't give you our last names, unless you let us assist you in finding the killer." Dean groaned beside Sam (who thought that just maybe he had made a terrible mistake). Gideon never even contemplated letting them work with the BAU, he didn't know who they were or what they were doing pretending to be agents, so he immediately shook his head, not even slightly humored by the ridiculous compromise. "Just," Sam paused to take a deep breath, "hear me out?" Gideon finally chuckled, but Sam saw a new opportunity to prove that they could be of some use. "Do you-- do you know anyone with knowledge about mythical monsters? Like, vampires, Gods, or shape-shifters." Gideon furrowed his eyebrows, his grip tightening even more on Sam's shoulder. "Please! I need to talk to them."

"Reid!" Gideon shouted, beckoning for the youngest agent to come stand by his side for a moment. Nervously, Reid scampered over to the three men, questioning why he was needed. "Do you know anything about," Gideon cut himself off, feeling like a fool, "monsters? Uh, vampires and things of that sort?" Reid nodded, still slightly afraid of the strange men Gideon was standing with.

"Well, I have a varied knowledge about most things. I never particularly studied mythical beings, but I'm more knowledgeable about said beings than most people I've spoken of them to," Reid replied, brushing a few strands of hair behind his ear and looking exclusively at Gideon. "Um, why?" Gideon nodded to Sam, who managed a small smile when Reid looked his way.

"There are different ways to kill a vampire," Sam began, holding eye contact with the younger profiler, "beheading, or a stake to the heart works as well. However, sunlight doesn't kill them, it's actually just a huge misconception." Reid nodded. "An even bigger misconception is that they're just mythical creatures, when in all actuality--"

"I've heard enough," Gideon interrupted with an annoyed tone. "The two of you are staying with us, under surveillance at all times. You're lucky I don't just arrest you myself." Dean cursed, only to be tightly held in place one again. "I don't want to hear another word. When this case is finished, the both of you will make some nice, comfy homes out of some jail cells. Hotch!" Gideon shouted, jerking his head over to his superior. "Help me with these two." Hotch jogged over and took hold of Sam's arm, handcuffing him, while Gideon struggled with getting cuffs on Dean, the two brothers were then stuffed into the black SUV the agents used to get from place to place. Morgan was quickly ushered over by Reid who had given him a run-down of the situation. "Take them back to the station. Make sure J.J. keeps and eye on them," Gideon ordered, shutting the driver's door for Morgan.

As the SUV sped down the dirt road, Reid folded his lips in and looked around. The bodies were dumped near a body of water -- most definitely a river -- but not in the river, which was strange. Why not completely dispose of the bodies instead of letting them sit on the bank and rot? The unsub's entire M.O. was making Reid's head spin. "You know," he said suddenly, getting the attention of both Gideon and Hotch, "whoever that guy was, he wasn't entirely incorrect." The two older agents exchanged glances as Reid continued. "Sunlight, according to most lore, is said to burn a vampire's flesh and render them lifeless instantly; while more accurate lore describes the effects of sunlight on their skin as something more like boiling water: painful and certainly damaging, but not lethal."

Chapter Text

The profile had been assessed when it became clear what the unsub was searching for in a victim, considering all three women were almost identical. His desire to kill them was based solely off appearance, which was concluded by Morgan, who pointed out to everyone that none of the women knew each other in the slightest. With that information, they could have also concluded that the killer was searching for a sexual release, however Prentiss and Reid inspected the bodies and visited the coroner's, both times ending up with no evidence of rape or sexual assault. The women had apparently willingly followed this man since there was no sign of them being knocked out, or they had been drugged, which seemed more likely (especially since there was some kind of poison in the women's systems). The profilers had decided that they were looking for a male either with Renfield's Syndrome, or who was obsessed with Satanism, who wanted some kind of power over these women, hence why he would hold them captive for so long and slowly drain them.

The entire time they were discussing the unsub, Sam and Dean restlessly squirmed in their seats, wishing someone would listen to them. They knew what they were hunting, and they damn sure could figure out a way to cage him, but the profilers all had little belief in the supernatural, and certainly weren't listening two men who were impersonating agents. Dean was especially annoyed by the end of the profile when all the police officers left the room and returned to their posts, practically banging the front legs of his chair against the tile flooring with impatience. Gideon had approached them multiple times, saying they could leave the room and head on down to jail whenever they gave him their full names. The only keeping Dean from spitting in the agent's face was the heel of Sam's boot digging into Dean's toes. If there was anything he hated, it was being ignored. Sure, they had been held by officers before, but this time he hardly even had a chance to defend himself.

When it seemed as though everyone was preparing to exit the room, Sam hatched a tiny plan. Silently, he hoped that the younger agent with the sandy brown hair would be the last to exit the room, and his prayers came true when Reid stayed behind to examine the pictures for just a moment more. Morgan made a joke about Reid just before stepping entirely out of the room, which was when Sam made his move. "Psst!" Sam hissed, attempting to lean forward slightly in his chair. Reid paid no attention to the brothers, continuing to focus on his work. "Hey, uh," Sam paused, cursing himself for hardly being able to recall the agent's name, "Reid!"

It was then that the man Sam was calling to finally turned around, a displeased look written all over his features. "What?" he practically whined. "Look, I understand, it sucks here. But you two were impersonating federal agents, and that's a very important strike in the book of law." Dean chuckled and watched as Sam struggled to think of something to reply with. "However, you do seem to know basic vampiric lore, so I'll give you credit for that much."

"Wait!" Sam said, blossoming with ideas once more. "I know about more than just vampires! I know what's been kidnapping and murdering the women!" Reid managed a skeptical look before heading over the table and grabbing his satchel, slipping it over his neck and one shoulder. He stuck his head out the doorway and called for J.J., ordering for her to watch Sam and Dean while he searched for one of the other agents. J.J. silently slipped into the room, sitting across from the brothers at the table, sifting through cases upon cases inside folders. They both groaned as she acted as though they weren't even there, salting the open wound of them being held in a police station.

Elsewhere, Morgan smiled as he spoke on the phone with Penelope Garcia, the technical analyst for the BAU, pleased to hear the information she had managed to dig up. As it turned out, there were similar kidnappings and murders, however, none of them were in the area, and they had happened at least a two years ago. In that case, no one was ever arrested, considering the crimes suddenly stopped. Police were never able to locate the unsub, but now it was seeming as though he had reappeared in a new location. The victimology was more or less the same, confirming that this was obviously the same killer. "Thanks, Baby Girl," Morgan remarked, closing his phone and looking up to Gideon, repeating all the information he had just been fed. There was a collective feeling of urgency within the agents. If the unsub had paused his killings once, who was to say he wouldn't do the same thing twice?

"Guys, this is insanely urgent," J.J. said when everyone was together once more (including Sam and Dean who excitedly leaned forward in their seats, hoping they could be released to kill the Djinn); "there's a woman in urgent care, says she doesn't know what happened. Her name is apparently Kathleen. She lost a large portion of blood -- enough to be considered crippling -- and also said she was," her face contorted in confusion, "dreaming the entire time. She said everything felt so real in the dream until she saw her son, who's been deceased since Kathleen gave birth. She said she woke up after allegedly commiting suicide in her dream to see if it was true or not. I don't have all the information, so someone needs to go see her in the hospital." Hotch nodded, volunteering to go speak to the first surviving victim. "There's a new place that's considered a crime scene, which was where she was found, just outside of an old, vacant factory. I suggest checking that out as well."

At that point, Dean couldn't stand sitting idly by, quietly, any longer. "Don't go alone," he said sternly, scoffing when everyone turned to gaze upon him. "What? You're dealing with someone who's obviously dangerous. Having backup just seems like common sense if you ask me."

"Yeah?" Morgan questioned, "well nobody did, so shut it." Dean's jaw dropped, but the cautious look from Sam kept him from retaliating. "I'll check out the factory. Reid'll come with me. Prentiss, and I mean no offence to someone who could clearly kick anyone's ass, you should stay as far away from the guy until we've got him busted, you fit perfectly fit the image of women he's been kidnapping." Prentiss nodded, clearly with no offence taken. "Although, Reid's awfully pretty, maybe I should take Gideon in his place?"

Reid rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Yeah, very funny, Derek." Morgan gently punched his arm and chuckled when Reid pulled away in an attempt to avoid contact. "Besides, we need Gideon here in case some other information arises." Everyone collectively agreed, including Hotch, which settled the plans.

In the SUV, Reid and Morgan found their way to the abandoned factory through J.J.'s instructions. The place was eerie, which was typical for places that had been ghosted such as this one. The two agents were told that Kathleen was found wandering around the outside of the factory when an officer had found her and noticed how out of her mind she was, immediately bringing her to the hospital. It was a miracle that she was even lucid enough to walk around and interact with the man, but it had saved her life. However, the whole dream thing still stood out to them as strange. It wasn't that people couldn't or didn't dream when unconscious, it was moreso out of the ordinary that she woke up when she realized what she was seeing was false. Reid had added that realizing one is dreaming very rarely causes them to awaken.

He and Morgan were cautious as they approached the building on foot, guns drawn and loaded. Morgan motioned for Reid to check the front while the former of the two adventured around the back to see if there was anything behind the building. Morgan crouched slightly as he navigated around the building, regretting his choice to wait until nightfall to examine the building. As he rounded one of the four walls of the rectangular building and ended up standing completely behind it, he paused for a moment to catch his breath. He slowly walked against the wall, finding a door that would lead him inside and immediately entering. There wasn't much more light inside the factory, and it was just as vacant as J.J. said it would be: there was practically nothing inside the entire building despite how large it was. Little shadows were illuminated on the walls from the light fluttering in through the windows. He quietly touched his earpiece and told Reid that there was nothing to be found around the back and that he had come inside, a bit off-put when there was no reply.

Then he could feel it: the presence of someone else. He wasn't alone, and he wasn't sure if it was Reid or a stranger, so he found a wall and pressed his back against it, gun defensively raised in front of him. He could see that something was moving by the way a larger shadow disturbed the light shining faintly on the floor a few feet away from Morgan. "FBI!" he shouted, pushing that feeling of fear down until it had practically dissipated; "I know you're here!" He waited for a reply. If it were Reid, some snarky remark would have come out of the dark, but instead the dark only seemed to grow larger around the agent.

He should have seen the fist coming when it smacked him down from the back of the head. He was pinned down more quickly than he would ever admit. Whoever was holding him down despite his struggles had skin pale like the moon and eyes quite literally shining with a rich blue. Morgan's eyes widened as he attempted to push the figure off, calling out for Reid to assist him. However, Reid was still trekking around the building, having misread Morgan's motion and heading in the wrong direction. The figure's knees pushed down onto Morgan's arms, giving it access to its arms. It reached an arm out and stroked Morgan's neck with a cold finger, its entire arm radiating the same blue light as its eyes. Morgan squirmed, silently praying that he was just seeing things. Which was ironic, considering that in mere seconds he was slipping off into a dream state, forgetting he was ever in the factory. The figure smirked, revealing sharp teeth, and hoisting Morgan up by his waist. Sam and Dean were right the entire time, not a single person caring to believe them, and now the Djinn had another victim.

Chapter Text

"I just don't understand," Reid said, his voice on the verge of breaking from emotion; "Morgan is practically the polar opposite of what our unsub was looking for. Why the hell would he take Morgan?" He had begun pacing, twirling a pen around by its cap that he had disfigured a long while ago. Everyone watched as he silently expressed his worries and pain that were usually hidden under layers of "I'm fine". Derek Morgan was like his brother, and although Reid knew Morgan would find a way out (or they would come to his rescue), part of him couldn't cease from worrying. When the silence dragged on for a few seconds longer than anyone would prefer, Gideon spoke up to try and keep everyone from getting too low in spirits.

"The unsub chose Morgan because he was a threat," he said, ending with a sigh. "He's weak, obviously doesn't like getting his hands dirty where it's not needed. If anything we're one step closer." He offered Reid a small smile and lightly pat the younger agent's arm, leaving the room shortly thereafter. Everyone looked to Hotch who gazed above everyone's heads to get a glance at Sam and Dean, who both looked beyond tired. Sure, they were being fed and had the chance to sleep, but they had been cuffed all night and hadn't left their seats for just about as long. Hotch figured they were of no use, as did everyone else. That was true, at least until Reid recalled what Sam had said earlier, something about "knowing what had been killing the women". Reid systematically waited for everyone to head off for their hotel rooms, leaving him alone with the two brothers.

He carefully approached Sam and sat down directly in front of him, already mentally punishing himself for actually considering believing anything this man was about to speak of. "You--" he cut himself off to clear his throat and avoid eye contact, "you said you knew what has Morgan. Yet you also said monsters are real, so I'm inclined to ignore anything you say and assume that you're out of your mind, but I'm starting to feel a little desperate here." Sam watched Reid's lips move as he spoke, mesmerized by looking at something that wasn't whitewashed and still like the floor, or gray like the table. "So...I'll bite. What are we looking for?" His ears perked up and his entire mood lifted, his smile a clear indication of this.

"A Djinn is what's been kidnapping and murdering all those women," Sam replied excitedly, slowly at first, then hardly able to keep words from spilling out. "They take people and drain their blood, which is later consumed for energy, kind of like a vampire. They can also poison people and put them in a dream state that is oddly similar to this person's greatest wish. That dream state would feel like a lifetime to the victim." Dean halfheartedly nodded along as Sam spoke, but Reid sat almost without any kind of expression. "However, that poison could also kill them instantly depending on what the Djinn chooses as the dosage. The only ways for someone to wake up from one of the dreams is to commit suicide in it, or be injected with an antidote that Dean and I have -- except it's in our car. Not to mention, a Djinn's only weakness is either a fatal blow to the head or a silver blade dipped in lamb's blood -- which is also in our car."

"W-wait, did you say Djinn, like a Genie?" Reid questioned, repositioning himself in his seat. Sam nodded fiercely, hoping this could lead to his and Dean's release, in which they would then kill the Djinn themselves. "And you know for a fact that this creature is truly alive and not fictional?" Another nod, this time from both of the Winchester brothers. Reid tried his hardest to read the two men sitting in front of him, trying to analyze if they were lying again or if monsters were somehow real. Maybe it was his desperation to find Morgan, or perhaps it was something else that Reid couldn't quite think of at that moment, that led him to accept what Sam was saying as truth and let out a long, hopeless sigh. "Where would a Djinn keep its victims?" he asked after a second, rotating his chair around to grab his satchel and pull out the notebook from inside of it.

"They prefer dark places with a lot of space to hide. Uh, anything abandoned really," Dean replied before turning and smiling at his brother. "Not wherever that last chick was found, though. He knew you were onto him, that's why he stayed there. Catching one of your agents would put him more than just a few steps ahead of your entire team," he continued, almost sounding annoyed at the end. "And if it had just been left up to me and Sam -- if you goddamn profiling pricks never showed your ugly mugs -- we would have ganked this S.O.B a long time ago. But instead," he lifted his arms and made the chains of the cuffs around his wrists rattle, "we've had to sit here and deal with this." With little explanation, Reid actually found himself apologizing for the cuffs. "Then I guess it's settled: you should let us go so we can go find that bastard and fix this little issue."

"Yeah, no, I'm not going to do that," Reid replied simply, writing something in his notebook about the Djinn. Dean groaned and pressed the back of his head against the spine of the chair, wishing for nothing more than to punch the agent. "We'll make a fair deal, though." The brothers' ears perked up as Reid looked at them intently. "You're going to tell me where the Djinn would be hiding and grant me possession of the antidote. You'll then come with me as I locate wherever you say it's hiding, I'll kill it, get Morgan the antidote, and bring everyone back to the station. I'll uncuff you, and you will refrain from injecting yourselves into FBI investigations ever again, because I can assure you that it won't be this forgiving the next time."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks before Dean spoke with a small scoff. "No dice," he said with a forced smile. "This is our job; saving people, hunting things, and we aren't going to let you step on it." Reid saw it then, the truth in Dean's words, in the way that he seemed to be doing more than just protecting himself. The men were trained liers, that had been obvious enough, which had made Reid question why they would tell Gideon they were hunting a monster and insist they were right in the first place. So, he gave in and considered that they weren't lying from the start the way everyone else had been believing. As Dean continued speaking, Reid understood that the only options he had were go in alone, or trust Sam and Dean. "We've saved more people than your genius brain could even think up, and I'll be dammed if we--"

"Fine," Reid caved, quickly standing and grabbing his bag. "My initial plan will only have one adjustment." He fished a paper clip from the bag and untwisted parts so that it was just a (somewhat) straight, thin wire, then held it up for the brothers to see. "This will be my key. When we get to the hideout, I'll uncuff you, and we'll all stay together until the thing is dead. We do not leave without Morgan," Reid continued, making sure he put a large amount of emphasis on the last sentence. "I'll explain whatever I can to Gideon and Hotch later." Sam and Dean nodded excitedly as Reid stuffed the paper clip in his pocket and grabbed one arm of them both, tugging them to their feet. He ushered them out of the room, lying to Gideon and saying he was just "taking them for a short ride", relieved when Gideon replied for them to just be back soon. "You said the antidote was in your car," Reid said as they made it outside of the station, "is it still parked at the lake where we first met?"

"Yeah, keys are in my pocket," Dean said, jerking himself back slightly when Reid reached for one of his pockets. "Whoa there, frisky, not until we get to the lake."

The agent rolled his eyes and pulled them over to the SUV. He linked one arm through theirs, opening one of the back doors with the other, and then shoving them inside. He drove the three of them down to the lake where the Impala was tucked behind a patch of trees. Not many people visited this lake, but it was still a good idea to keep the vehicle away from the trail in case anyone did decide to come down; as if that was what people would do after hearing about bodies being dumped. Dean nearly started sobbing at the sight of the Impala, scooting as close to the window of the SUV as humanly possible, wishing he were inside his own car instead. "Right over there," he remarked, relieved when Reid pulled over towards the lone vehicle. "Oh, and you aren't touching my baby. I'll get the antidote myself..." he paused, beginning to smirk like a madman, "and our weapons." A reluctant sigh escaped Reid as he slid the door open for Dean who rushed over to his car, taking his time with retrieving the antidote, silver blades, and jar full of lamb's blood. When he returned, he offered a childish, taunting smile and climbed back into his seat.

As to where the Djinn was, Sam and Dean were just about as clueless as Dr. Reid. They had a suspicion, but no real evidence, and there was no way to worm their way out of trouble if this suspicion was incorrect. Perhaps they would have been better off sitting the the conference room, watching as women died and the FBI sat back and scratched their heads in confusion, versus going off a hunch. Of course, they were exceptional when it came to their unpaid job, meaning they had quite a bit of faith in themselves. Still, Sam sat back and watched the trees rush by as Dean instructed Reid on where the Djinn "most definitely" was making a home of, nervous but unwilling to show for it. He wasn't one to silently panic, in fact he kept his cool relatively well, but not nearly as well as Dean. Dean exerted such a high level of confidence it was difficult to tell that he was planning to simply run if they couldn't find the Djinn.

As the car slowed to a halt in an empty parking lot, Sam took a deep breath and gripped the hilt of his silver knife just a tad tighter. He had logically thought about it, and if they were wrong about the Djinn being in a long forgotten grocery store, then their lives were practically over. They wouldn't be able to race Reid back to the Impala and skip town fast enough; they would be held in prison for the same reasons they had been cuffed in the first place. Thinking about it made his eyes fall down to the cuffs themselves, which Reid leaned over to unlock with the paperclip. Sam found it strange that he was so willing to believe him and Dean, considering any normal person would simply call them crazy or "Devil worshippers". He found himself quietly thanking Reid when the cuffs were finally off, dropping the blade and massaging his wrists one at a time. There was something different about the youngest agent that made him stand out to such a slight degree that most people would simply overlook it (at least until he began speaking of statistics, his knowledge of different statistics was something that separated him from the entire team). After a few moments, everyone was outside with a silver blade in hand, Dean with the lamb blood.

They each coated the blades in blood, Sam and Dean stuffing them in their inside pockets and Reid struggling to find a place to conceal the weapon. Dean chuckled as he watched the agent fiddle around with his vest before ultimately giving up on pretending not to have the knife. "What will bullets do?" he questioned, his voice quavering and full of panic as his held reflexively felt for his gun at his side.

"Slow him down, probably," the older of the brothers replied with a single shrug, tossing the jar of blood into the SUV and quietly closing the door. "In situations like this, guns aren't really your friends. You have to rely on the Djinn's weakness," Dean twirled the blade around with a smirk, clearly attempting to make a show of how inexperienced Reid truly was. With all due respect, he had only found out Djinn truly existed just a few hours ago, so he had a right to be in the dark. "Plan's the same?" Reid grimly nodded, fist opposite of the one on the blade clenching tightly. Morgan had been there for him countless times, like an older sibling, and Reid wasn't going to let him simply fall like this. "Let's go kick some monster ass."

Chapter Text

Derek couldn't believe what he was seeing. Everything was so livid, so lifelike, yet something seemed so very off. He was home in Chicago with his mother, sisters, and father, which wasn't how he remembered it. His father died when he was a young child, yet here he was, smiling and stuffing a spoonful of rice into his mouth. They were sat at the kitchen table, passing food around and laughing, ignoring the gangster-plagued streets outside, ignoring how improbable this entire situation was. Morgan felt distant watching the world go at full speed around him when his mind seemed to be slowing, possibly even to a stop. For the longest time, all he had ever dreamed of was having his father back; because then the director of the youth center never would have been in the picture, and Morgan wouldn't have had to do things that weren't right because someone else was seeking pleasure. He could have been a star athlete like he had always wanted, and things would have simply been better.

Only, having his father here, right now, just didn't sit right with him.

He was silent for what seemed like the entirety of the dinner, only speaking up to offer and wash the dishes, where he could be alone and think. He mindlessly turned the sink on, ignoring the way the steaming water made his skin practically burn, and began wiping away bits of dried food and other gunk from the plates. His greatest wish had come true, but it felt so unreal that he could hardly enjoy it. It simply was not correct, and his mind was refusing to accept what was happening as reality. He couldn't fathom how something this strange could possibly occur. He flinched and dropped a piece of silverware as his finger was sliced open, deeper than a paper cut, but shallow enough to skip stitching. His crimson blood dripped slightly into the sink as he rushed to grab a paper towel, quickly placing pressure on the small wound. He stared at the washed dishes and finally realized that he hadn't been paying attention the entire time he was cleaning them. Time felt like it was flying when he was stuck in his mind.

Morgan wandered off to a bathroom and located a box of bandages, eyes widening when he unwrapped the cut on his finger. He dealt with gore practically every day of his life; he had seen some of the most gruesome mutilations, yet this tiny cut seemed to bother him almost as much as those terrible things. It would scar, surely, but it wasn't the appearance or depth that perturbed him. It was that lack of thought that he had just experienced that led him to do something so mindless without a second thought. He sighed and grabbed an adhesive bandage, wrapping the sticky parts around the part of his finger that wasn't bleeding.

The fact that he could feel the wound opened his eyes to something: he couldn't possibly be dreaming if he felt the sting of that cut. Which meant that, somehow, this was real, this was reality, and he couldn't leave it. He found himself smiling, suddenly knowing he was safe here, and he could have what he had always wanted so desperately. Morgan felt as though he truly was home and at peace with his surroundings. He threw the spare packaging into the trash bin and ended up back in the kitchen where the group of unwashed dishes sat in preparation. He picked his task back up and continued cleaning, losing the bandage at some point, groaning slightly in disgust when he found it, soaked and soggy, at the bottom of the now empty sink. He sighed and dropped it into the garbage, also deciding to complete the mundane task of taking that out and replacing the bag.

After a moment, his father appeared in the doorway, face illuminated with a satisfied smile. "Hey..." Morgan stopped, hating that his mind was drawing a blank on what to call his own father, "...Dad." He returned the smile with hesitation, walking closer to the man who had been absent without choice for an unfavorable amount of time. When no reply came, Morgan continued, his smile faltering for a moment. "I have to get back to work soon. I can't stay in Illinois forever. I live in Virginia now, so I have to book a flight back, it's important that I don't miss any days at the Bureau." There was a shortlived silence that eerily floated in the room, rendering Morgan uncomfortable once again.

"Derek, Son, you're actin' as if I don't know about your work in the FBI," his father replied with a rather confused glance. "I just figured one extra day for my birthday wouldn't hurt." The thought of missing his father's birthday made him completely disregard the fact that the man somehow knew about Morgan's work despite being dead for over a decade. "Whaddya say? Just spend the night here, at home." Something about his tone was far from inviting, more like demanding, yet that was another thing Morgan simply shrugged off. He agreed to spend another night, grinning at the thought of everyone being reunited for another day. Although, it seemed as though they were never separated to begin with: his sisters and mother all collectively acted as though Morgan's father had never been killed, and that simply another thing he let roll of his back and into the dust.

In reality, he was far gone. The Djinn wasn't taking any more chances in this sorry excuse of a town, thus he had decided to drain Morgan twice as fast and get what he brought upon himself over with. He had a large supply of what was nutrition for him, so he could simply drop off somewhere and refrain from kidnapping for a short period of time with little to no repercussions. He didn't mind, considering he wasn't anything like the criminal profilers, such as the one he had captive, hunted: his motivation was survival, not some twisted error in his mind. If anything, he was highly intelligent and far more mentally capable than anyone the FBI had ended up killing due to the danger they imposed. A crooked smile spread to his lips as Morgan twitched slightly, meaning his mind was racing in his dream state, and the Djinn's poison was working its magic. The Djinn reached out and stroked Morgan's cheek, his overgrown nails painlessly scratching lightly against the man's skin, the tribal tattoo on the Djinn's arm beginning to glow the same light blue his eyes had the first time he had poisoned Morgan, mere hours ago.

Just outside the abandoned store stood Sam and Dean who were quite literally betting their lives on the possibility that the monster truly was residing inside the building. Reid was hardly even a foot behind them, clutching his weapon and waiting for one of the brothers to give some breed of signal. There was at least something good going for the three of them: neither Hotch nor the Djinn were aware of their plans, and it would be difficult to catch them at this point. The other agents in the BAU were beyond confused, wondering why their profile was getting them nowhere but a false arrest that (luckily) didn't end in a lawsuit. It would have been humorous if those women weren't dropping dead. Something shuffled in the dark of the parking lot, resulting in Reid taking a small step forward until he was practically pressed against the younger brother, who just barely managed to hold back an uncomfortable sigh. What kind of FBI agent is afraid of the dark? he thought with a short eye roll, finding a way to sway away from the doctor without the latter taking notice.

Dean then gave a tiny nod and pointed to an entrance of the store that would lead to the eyeglass center. "We'll pick that lock there and get in, most places where they sell glasses don't have locks inside the store, so we can get in quietly." He led his brother and Reid, who was looking everywhere but directly in front of himself out of the fear that they would be ambushed at any moment. He and Sam sunk against a wall as Dean used a bobby pin to pick the lock of the glass door, producing a triumphant smile when the door silently slid open with a slight push. He motioned for the other two to follow, a groan collectively emitting everyone when they saw that the inside was shut in with sliding doors, meaning (in the best case) they would have to pick another lock. This was over quickly, but it appeared as though the doors were stuck shut when the three of them together couldn't manage to pry them apart. "Shit," the older brother cursed, eyes scanning the dark room for something to shatter the glass with. It would be loud, but they didn't have another option in this room. Not to mention, if the doors for the eyeglass center were stuck, chances were the others were as well. Dean contemplated simply punching the door, which was honestly a ridiculous idea, while Reid and Sam walked in circles, searching for a weapon of sorts. Once he was tired enough of waiting, Dean kicked a boot straight through, groaning slightly when the shards pierced trough his jeans and directly into his flesh.

He continued kicking different sections of the hole, widening it whilst ignoring the way his leg screamed in pain from the open wounds. After a moment, Sam pushed by him and stepped through the hole, managing to avoid every shard of ragged glass randomly sticking out, taking hold of Dean's arm and helping his older brother through after him. Reid, being the smallest, was also able to get through with no trouble, staying kneeled at Dean's side. When he reached out, Dean flinched back and shook his head. "Doesn't matter, let's just go kill this sonnuva bitch," Dean spoke with a slight strain, reaching for the knife in his coat pocket and readying himself. "No separating," Dean gave a nod to Reid, "we'll search together." Dean and Sam stuck close together, the older brother attempting to appear more masculine by refusing to walk with a limp, Reid practically walking right into them. The entire store was dark, and he was already on edge just knowing that Morgan was in danger.

They went through every aisle with a slow, cautious pace, constantly turning their heads to get a complete view of everything surrounding them. Reid's ears perked up at the sound of something falling a few aisles down. He began jabbing a finger into Sam's side and pointing in the general direction of where the noise had come from, scared to speak at all. They navigated towards the sound, Reid's heart skipping what was possibly multiple beats when he caught sight of Morgan. The agent was dangling slightly, his feet just barely above the ground, suspended by the cuffs attached to his wrists. The tap pierced into a vein was quickly filling a bag at his side with crimson blood, and Reid could feel his stomach drop when he spotted this. "No," he whispered quietly to himself, attempting to step forward, only to have Dean tug him back by his collar, calmly shaking his head.

"Don't be stupid," Dean warned. Reid whined slightly and tried to shake Dean off, but the older brother was more intelligent than Reid originally took him for, and he wouldn't simply let go. "Don't. Be. Stupid," Dean repeated harshly, motioning for Sam to check out the area while he and the (somewhat) stable agent stood back and waited. Sam poked his head out and gazed around the aisle, nodding to assure Dean it was safe. Once released, Reid rushed over to Morgan and detached the needle, using the unbent paperclip to unlock the cuffs. He laid his associate on the floor, feeling around his neck with two fingers in search of a pulse, sighing in relief when he felt the slightest beat. His anxieties weren't cured, however, when he heard Sam grunt and a large slam follow. His eyes scanned the room in search of either of the brothers, his breathing growing ragged when they both couldn't be found.

"I'll be back for you," he said quietly to the unconscious agent, quickly standing and feeling the hilt of the knife suddenly seem larger in his hand. He gritted his teeth and lurked around the corner where Sam was hunched over, gripping his stomach, a dribble of blood and saliva streaming from his lips to his chin. The younger of the Winchester brothers whipped his head around, half relieved and half disappointed when he saw the agent and not the Djinn.

"It's got Dean," he managed to say, his voice forced and pained. With a struggle, he stood and began shakily walking in the direction he last saw the Djinn go. Reid hesitantly followed, hating the guilt leaving his friend behind brought, attempting to push the emotion far down. Sam led the way past aisles upon aisles, growing more and more hopeless with each one passed. If they couldn't manage to find Dean, that put both him and Morgan in danger, considering Dean was the only one who had the antidote, and Morgan was entirely enticed by his dream. "Maybe we should try the other side," Sam thought out loud, continuing to run a hand across his stomach. Getting thrown against a shelf and having said shelf jutted into his stomach hadn't fared to well with him, only adding to the list of injuries he had acquired on the job. "I feel like we're just running in circles." Reid nodded in agreement, standing directly next to the younger Winchester brother. "How was your friend?"

"Unconscious," Reid replied, proceeding to swallow down a lump forming in his throat. "He had lost a lot of blood. If---" the agent paused, taking a second to truly think about what he was saying, "if he lives, he'll need to be hospitalized." Sam placed a hand on Reid's shoulder and offered a smile of compensation. "We should, uh," Reid awkwardly cleared his throat and took a step to the side, glad the darkness of the room could cover the blooming redness of his face, "check the other side of the store." Sam agreed and led the way, the both of them continuing to scope out every aisle precisely. They had made it to the electronic section with no luck, anxiety pressing down on them even harder with every step. There was a feeling of hope that was slowly burning out like a candle in the wind.

The Djinn carefully stalked the back of the store where it was hiding. It could have killed Dean right then and there, but it knew of the other Djinn he had killed, and it wasn't willing to give Dean the satisfaction of a quick death. It broke the typical system Djinn followed and simply struck open the back of Dean's arm with a knife it had found, the gash wide enough to bleed, but not enough to actually kill Dean; then poisoning the hunter enough so that he would slip into an impenetrable dream state. It wasn't aware of how close Sam and Reid were, thus its guard had dropped slightly, and everyone was just a bit less paranoid. With slight frustration, the Djinn laid Dean's arm out so that the blood would stream straight into a plastic pail. That was when Sam rounded the corner and locked eyes with the monster, readying his weapon while managing to keep it hidden under his jacket. His mouth quirked up at the side in a small smirk; he would be beyond satisfied by murdering the Djinn. However, he was leaving the murder to Reid, who found a way behind the Djinn as Sam distracted it with his own presence.

Reid readied himself with a deep breath and charged behind the Djinn, forcing the knife into the back of its chest, cringing at the feeling of the blade cutting through thick layers of flesh. He pushed the creature down and backed away, refusing to look at the damage he had done to it. He had shot people before, but that differed greatly from stabbing them. When he were to shoot someone, it would be quick, and he wouldn't have to suffer through the feeling of his own hands causing them such agony. He wouldn't have to make contact with them, but the Djinn was different. In addition, it looked human, and he hadn't fully accepted that it wasn't just yet. There was a rush of panic that coursed through him as he slowly made his way to the floor and knelt a few feet away from the Djinn. Sam had already began making sure it had successfully passed, removing the knife from its chest and tossing it towards the agent, the two of them briefly looking at each other before Reid's eyes fell to the bloodied blade.

Sam didn't have enough time to worry about him, though, instead rushing to his brother's side. He tore his own jacket off and began wrapping it around the wound on Dean's arm, tying it in place and silently praying the Djinn didn't discover the antidote and pirate it. Swiftly, he ran his hands though Dean's pockets and found said antidote, quickly sticking his brother with it and then pocketing it himself. He lightly hit Dean's face with the back of his hand, repeating his name and repeatedly ordering him to wake up. Dean's eyes shot open after a few seconds without any result, followed by him groaning and massaging the gash with annoyance. "Ya know, you could have made that a lot quicker," Dean grumbled, Sam laughing and hugging his brother to his chest. "How're the FBI douches?"

Sam glanced behind himself at Reid who hadn't moved a hair. His eyes were still blankly locked on the blade when Sam and Dean approached him. "Hey, you gonna be alright?" Sam questioned, offering a hand to help the agent to his feet. Silently, Reid hoisted himself up with the help of the younger brother, answering with a short nod once he was stable. "We should get to your friend." Another nod as he slowly grabbed the knife once again. Dean was the first one to begin walking, reaching the initial holding grounds in a matter of minutes. Reid had followed loosely behind him, his mind racing the entire time despite what the lackluster shine in his eyes might have insinuated; with Sam tailing the both of them, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything else that might have been hiding in the store. The antidote was passed from Sam to Dean who crouched down next to Morgan, first checking his pulse with a sigh of relief. If Morgan had died, there was an even higher possibility that Dean and his brother wouldn't make it out of this situation smoothly.

The antidote took a moment to take effect, just as it had with Dean. Morgan was drowsy when he woke, glancing around himself with panic, his gaze landing on Dean. He wasn't aware of the fact that the man had saved him, thus his initial reaction was to reach for his gun. "Whoa, whoa," Dean said, lifting his hands to his chest in defense as the gun was brought to eye level, "I ain't here to hurt you." Reid made an odd noise, what sounded like a mix between a groan of annoyance and a somewhat suppressed scream, which instantly gained everyone's attention. All eyes were on him -- including Agent Morgan's -- as he found his way to his friend's side and wrapped his own arms around Morgan's side in an awkward hug. The air seemed calmer with that simple action, any disagreements between anyone in the room fading into utter nothingness. Everyone was going to be alright (even though the brothers had both sustained injuries), which made the entire strange situation seemingly more normal.

"Not to break this obviously heartwarming brotherly moment up, but we need to head back," Dean stated with an apparent lack of patience. Reid draped Morgan's arm over his own shoulder and held the currently weaker agent up, guiding him to the exit of the store. There was a silent agreement between the brothers and Reid that since the building was abandoned, there was no reason to dispose of the body of the Djinn; it wasn't as if any customers would come in tomorrow and discover a corpse. The other agents, as well as local detectives and officers, were still hunting an unsub, but Reid would have to explain to everyone what exactly had happened. After re-cuffing the brothers, he began the drive back to the police station, biting his lip with an anxiety stemming from multiple things. If no-one believed him, he wasn't sure what actions he would follow this up with. There was still a hope that Morgan would help explain all that had happened; if he didn't, then Reid had no proof to support his claims, and there were numerous consequences he would have to face.

This stress resulted in the drive being tense and silent. Sam and Dean were practically praying that the BAU agents had faith in Reid, or he wouldn't be the only one who was entirely screwed. In the agents' eyes, the brothers were nothing more than just a couple criminals facing imprisonment. Morgan was unsure of what to say, the harsh reality of monsters and supernatural beings had just set in for him, and there was a lot of confusion and curiosity. He didn't want the brothers to be correct and would have preferred that they were simply crazy, yet that didn't seem true to him any longer. For the remainder of the ride he started it the window and watched the trees Reid drove past, his mind moving ten times faster than the vehicle they were in.

Chapter Text

The sound of Agent Jareau's footsteps entering the room raised both Gideon and Hotch's heads and hopes. Reid had left with the two men they were holding over an hour ago, and needles to say there was a large amount of concern and worry radiating from the remaining agents. They had been hoping she could provide them with some good news about the state of the three missing men (as well as Morgan). Their moods immediately dropped as she shook her head, silently informing them that everyone's whereabouts were still unknown. They were unaware of the fact that the three men were busy rescuing Morgan from something they had never even heard of (not that they would believe in a Djinn if they had heard of such a thing).

"We have to do something," J.J. said, watching as the agents before her turned away; "can't we put out a search for them?"

"I don't think it will be much of an aid. Reid's intelligent, if he doesn't desire to be found then we won't find him. As for Morgan, there's plenty of places he could have ended up in by now." Gideon replied with remorse, every word masking hopelessness with a fake tone of its opposite.

It was then that the most convenient thing possible occured; the missing agents and the Winchester brothers all pushed their ways into the room. The only one who was seemingly more tattered up than Derek was Sam, the latter's clothing torn slightly along his stomach along with splatters of blood from Dean's arm in the same area. Reid appeared normal aside from looking more shaken up than the occasions where he witnessed someone's life ending when there were other solutions. Everyone was silent, not one of them knowing just how to explain the situation, as well as Gideon, Hotch, and J.J. who were all simply shocked. Their jaws had already dropped, eyes wide with surprise (aside from Hotchner, who had the same blank expression he was typically sporting). In Dean's usual manner, he sighed and stepped forward, cockily smirking as he looked Gideon straight in the eyes. "I saved your agent friend's ass, so I think I deserve a reward," he said. Sam cleared his throat from behind his brother, but Dean paid no attention to his wordless warning.

"Reid, Morgan." Reid reluctantly raised his head to face Hotch, Morgan having less of an issue with doing so. "I want to speak to the both of you in private." They both nodded in reply, Reid's eyes sinking back to the shoes on his feet. "Jason, keep an eye on these two." Hotch jerked his head over to the interrogation room, the two agents following with anticipation. Morgan placed a hand on Reid's shoulder and pulled the younger agent closer to his side in a sort of hug, silently giving Reid the hope he so desperately needed. At the end of the hallway that lead to said interrogation room, Hotch turned around to face the both of them, prompting them for an answer.

"Hotch, I-"

"No, I want to hear from Spencer," their superior interrupted, Morgan instantly shutting his mouth. Reid glanced at the man beside him, receiving a simple nod of encouragement. He took a deep breath, but didn't say anything. In the worst case, he could lose his job, and this job meant more to him than practically anything aside from his mother. He had found a family in the people he learned to work with and come to love, as well as fallen in love with the job itself. Things were morbid, he had nightmares, but there was something about it that excited him and gave him purpose. He simply couldn't lose that. Which is why he chose to be entirely honest with Hotch, facing the fact that it was very unlikely he would be believed. But he believed that somewhere in Hotch's mind, he could afford to actually listen to Reid. There was a span of time in which everyone was tense and anticipating something more, but the silence was finally disturbed.

"Derek, how much of this is true?" Morgan shook his head and replied with a fearful tone.

"All of it, Sir." Sir. That wasn't something Hotch was used to hearing from someone with an attitude like Morgan's. To anyone who didn't profile people around the clock, that might have seemed suspicious, but Aaron felt compelled to believe these two, especially considering he had placed such a strong trust in them for literal years. "We know it sounds crazy - hell, the only reason I can believe it is because I lived through it. Those two out there," Morgan chuckled, and for a moment every sign of worry etched into his face disappeared, "they saved my life."

Hotch was left torn between believing the story and simply replying that it was the worst excuse they've ever attempted to get away with. "We'll discuss this again later. For now, I'm glad you both are alright. If you need anything," a slight smile passed Hotch's stern lips, "J.J. or Emily will have you covered." As he walked away, Reid and Morgan looked to each other, a collective feeling of relief passing through them. Hotch approached the brothers in the other room and asked for Jason to give them privacy. He went through the same process with Sam and Dean as he had with Reid and Morgan, somewhat surprised that he got what was essentially the same story from all of them. The thought of his agents working with either of these men was almost a joke in his mind - they were in police custody and his men were federal agents - but from what he had heard, it was no joke. Sam's puppy dog eyes didn't phase Hotch at all as he continued to press them for information. "I'm still very doubtful of your story. You're asking me to believe something impossible, and I'm conditioned to search for proof. By all means, provide me with something worth my time."

"Cas," Dean whispered to his brother, "Cas can explain everything." Sam nodded in approval, Dean chuckling as he continued; "Of course, we have a more," he made his voice gruff in order to imitate their friend, " 'profound bond', so I have the prayer covered." His humorous tone instantly dropped when he saw both Sam and Hotch's unamused expressions. "We have a friend who can clear this all up," he explained, "just get all your agents together and I'll call him."

That was how everyone ended up in the conference room. Dean sheepishly smiled before bowing his head and quietly speaking to himself. "Hey, Cas...we, uh, really need you here. Something came up. Don't be a dick." The agents' eyes were locked on the older of the Winchester brothers as he looked around the room. "Come on, Castiel," Dean urged. Sam's eyebrows furrowed together and wrinkles formed on his forehead as nothing happened. Prentiss scoffed and turned to Hotch, preparing to complain about how ridiculous this was and how Sam and Dean had no place anywhere but behind bars. After all, Dean didn't use a phone or anything, he just spoke, and he was expecting her to believe that would accomplish anything? It was utterly ridiculous, but Dean had faith in Castiel, Sam and him both prompting the angel to appear would surely do some good.

There was a slight whooshing sound that pounded through everyone's ears as a gust of wind swept through the room and a man appeared. He appeared directly in front of Dean, and to say the brothers were relieved was beyond an understatement. The agents of the BAU were so shocked that they simply stared at the man, hardly even attempting to profile him based solely on appearance. Castiel himself was tan (based on his hands, neck, and ears, since that was the only skin they could see from his back) and fit, his hair dark and unbrushed. He wore a trench coat and dress pants as well as dress shoes, and he had decent posture. He seemed nothing like someone they had assumed Sam and Dean would associate with. If anything, a few of them had been imagining the stock image of a southerner.

Castiel looked down at Dean's arm and grabbed Dean's hand, pulling the covered wound closer to himself. "What were you two doing?" he questioned, sounding almost like an annoyed parent retrieving their student from the principal's office, unwrapping Sam's blood-drenched shirt from around Dean's arm. Dean winced slightly when he felt air hit the wound, recoiling at the feeling of Castiel's thumb pressing the flesh so close to the opening.

"Hunting," he grunted. Hotch, Gideon, Prentiss, and J.J. could all clearly make out the wound. They were a bit shocked to hear the man's voice and how rough it was, which only added to their confusion. Even Reid and Morgan were in the dark, it wasn't like Sam or Dean mentioned the fact that they were buddies with a literal angel. Castiel sighed and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead, the latter relishing in the feeling flowing through his body. Both calming and soothing were understatements regarding how the angel's powers made him feel as the gash on his arm began mending together. The agents saw as it went from red, irritated, and bloody; to pink; to practically healed in a matter of mere seconds, not even leaving a scar in its place. They all quietly watched with confusion and a slight hint of fear. If whatever this man was could heal someone so easily, they could only imagine the damage he could inflict. Castiel then turned to Sam, repeating the action of pressing his fingers to the younger brother's forehead and healing the wound on his stomach.

"It seems more like you were trying to get yourselves killed," Castiel finally replied, stepping back slightly. "What are you doing here?" He finally turned around and laid eyes on the agents, a select four of them holding their guns in preparation to shoot. "Who--"

"What are you?" Reid asked curiously. The angel observed that he was one of the two agents who weren't holding him at gunpoint, Morgan being the other. Cas squinted slightly and walked closer to the youngest agent, the others all shouting for Reid to run so they could get a clear shot. He ignored them and looked directly at the man, unknowing of the fact that he was speaking to an angel. Everyone was suddenly silent, a majority of them fearing for the wellbeing of Reid (Sam and Dean knowing that Castiel would never hurt the agent with no good reason to). The first bullet entered Castiel's shoulder, fired from Prentiss's gun, yet it didn't phase him at all. He hardly even reacted to the sting it brought, too invested in the agent standing in front of him.

"You're...sick," he said quietly; "but it isn't physical, there isn't anything I can do." They stared at each for a few more seconds soaked in a haunting silence before Castiel turned to gaze at the other agents. "I'm an angel of The Lord. My name is Castiel, however if you know Sam and Dean, you would not be in fear of me." With his eyes, he probed Sam for an answer.

"They're FBI agents," Sam said. "We, um," he cleared his throat, unsure of how to explain their situation, "need help explaining the whole monsters and demons thing." He laughed nervously, but there wasn't a shred of humor to be found in his laughter. It was laced with worry, as he was resting he and Dean's fate in the angel's hands. "We thought maybe you could help us out."

Castiel wasn't bothering to hide his annoyance with the Winchesters. "You made that sound more pressing than it truly was, as you humans do tend to exaggerate. I'll just wipe their memories clean." Castiel raised a hand before Sam and Dean began shouting for him not to touch the agents. "I don't understand what you are asking of me!" Castiel angrily stated, facing Dean, their noses only centimeters apart. Dean contemplated striking a joke about how if Cas was a cartoon character, steam would be shooting from his ears, but he ultimately decided against it, instead calmly smiling and taking a small step backwards.

"Cas, just show them that what we do isn't some big, fat lie," Dean instructed. Cas sighed and navigated to Reid first, doing what he had done for both of the brothers, but in place of healing Reid Cas simply placed the knowledge of supernatural beings into the doctor's mind. Reid gasped as images of beings he had never even heard the names of flashed across his eyelids. Castiel held out an arm to block the agents attempting to get closer to Reid as the latter felt a new, odd belief in a list of things he had assumed were only created by people to scare other people. When Morgan visibly pulled away from the angel's hand, Reid finally spoke back up.

"It's fine," he assured Morgan, "just...let him."

The other agents all went through the same process, Castiel ultimately exhausted by the end of it. Luckily, he was no longer feared by anyone in the room; in fact, he had seemed to have kindled an interest from the entire line of them. There was a flood of questions that he patiently answered before Dean cleared his throat and "reminded" the agents that he and his brother were still cuffed. Once they were free, he gladly hugged the angel despite that one time he talked about keeping a "personal space" between them. "Thanks for saving our asses," Dean whispered, causing the angel to chuckle.

Then there came the realization that technically, in the eyes of the police department, the case was unsolved. No arrests had been made, and no one from the department was there to vouch for the excuse that the alleged unsub had committed suicide. All this meant was that the BAU would have to make a more believeable excuse without mentioning the monster or angel involved. Sam and Dean were willingly to convince a few agents that monsters would real, as it wouldn't cause the brothers any harm and it wouldn't take long, but an entire department of cops wouldn't be nearly as simple. However the suicide route was Hotch's best idea, however that would also recquire them to first find an unsub, or at least a person who could pretend to be one. Since they were all caught up in this situation together, Prentiss suggested using either Sam or Dean as a pretend unsub (not to mention, they were already in custody) and then having whichever one that was decided to fake their own death. With Castiel on their side, he would be able to help make one of the brothers appear dead without hurting them.

When it came down to who would act as the unsub, Sam and Dean settled things they way they typically did when under a stress such as this one: a simple game of rock, paper, scissors. This played out in the way it usually did with Sam playing rock and beating Dean's scissors. Everyone else thought this was a ridiculous way to settle something like this where there was still a possibility someone could be hurt, but the brothers insisted it was a dependable to settle a debate. Now that the unsub was decided, it boiled down to finding a way to make it look as though Dean had taken his own life, and have it done right in front of the agents and a select few officers. Needless to say, the whole plan was difficult, and it left Hotch scratching his head in search of important details that would seal the deal. There was no way to simply make Dean immortal or invincible, so quite literally everything would have to be faked.

The main thing that had to be decided was the way Dean would pretend to commit suicide, considering there was a list of ways people had actually done so to choose from. It was the doctor of the group who brought up something as simple as a drug overdose. Of course, he studied bodies and causes of death nearly every day, and he knew that there were difficulties that followed this course of action. "You won't be able to take anything actually harmful, which isn't necessarily a setback," Reid began, sat at the table in the conference room with the rest of the agents and the two brothers. "Your so-called 'corpse' can't be taken to a coroner anyway for obvious reasons, so what you take makes no difference. However, this means your body has to end up somewhere else." There was a break where everyone plotted more ideas and J.J. wrote what little they had on the white board.

"I hope you're a good actor," Gideon said with a small smile, "because this isn't going to be easy for an amateur."

Chapter Text

As it turned out, the fact that Sam and Dean lied for a living in order to protect others seemed to have come in handy when it boiled down to Dean acting as the unsub. The agents had obtained a bottle of plain pain relief pills (which Dean wasn't very excited to take, even if they weren't harmful), and Sam had created and printed a fake label for the bottle that made the plain pills appear to be something stronger and more deadly. Dean nervously twirled the bottle around between his fingers as they had another discussion about how everything should play out. Although the entire thing sounded as though it was written by a person with a remarkably low intelligence, it wasn't as bad of a plan as one might have thought.

Putting it into action was something Dean had been dreading for what felt like a lifetime, but in reality was a little under two hours. Gideon sat beside him and calmly went over the plan. Oddly, faking his own death was something the "professional" demon/ghost hunter had not been expecting to do within his lifetime, and there were quite a few strange things he had to do over the course of his career. All that meant was that he had zero experience and would probably find a way to screw everything up, even with all the reassurance from his brother. There had been times when they pretended to be dead by simply being wept off the charts, but that didn't require actually acting out their deaths -- this was, honestly, a first for Dean Winchester. Luckily, Gideon broke it down into something even a toddler could comprehend, yet he himself was anxious.

Dean wasn't the only one who had to do something physical. The agents would have to hold back any of the cops who insisted on getting the pills out of Dean's system and make a valid excuse for doing so. Then there was "disposing" of his body in order to keep a live person away from the coroner. All of it was so fiercely illegal that they were facing losing their jobs and then some, which meant that everything was on the line. It wasn't a good idea in any way, but now that they knew what was really out there, they couldn't simply say the unsub escaped and leave every woman in the area fearing for their lives. Technically the unsub was dead, but they needed solid proof in the form of an actual person, which just so happened to be Dean Winchester.

Sam also grabbed one of Dean's fake IDs from the back of the Impala, shocking everyone with the contents of its trunk. He explained that there was a certain amount of precautions he and his brother had to take in a business such as monster hunting, and the weapons were indeed important. He also fished John Winchester's notebook out of the back and handed it to Reid. "I heard you read a lot," Sam said, placing the book in the doctor's hands. "This was my father's journal. If there's anything you're curious about regarding monsters, that's a sure fire place to find answers." Reid simply smiled and thanked him, tearing through the pages in mere seconds. Prentiss laughed at Sam's shocked expression and told him that Reid was probably the most intelligent person either of them had ever met, and that his reading skills almost made his name into a terrible pun. After that task was completed, they hid Dean and held a meeting where they told all of the officers who they were looking for and that they needed to put out a search for him. Sam had questions thrown at him for being seen with Dean, to which he pleaded innocence and replied, "I had no idea he was killing people, officers." It was with a stroke of good luck that they even believed him with a reply as racey as the younger brother's.

When it came down to the actual event, there was no practice and no more reassurance. They had Dean separated from the group while everyone awaited the signal that he had the bottle down. Castiel came into play at the end, momentarily pausing Dean's pulse when one of the officers in charge of the case managed to reach Dean's body. He was disappointed that they didn't catch the unsub in time to make him pay for what had happened to those women, especially since in a lot of cases death seems like such an easy punishment with little to no suffering. But in the end, the unsub was stopped, and that was what the officer cared about. When he offered to call the ambulance and have the man's body taken to the coroner for examination, Hotch stopped him and said it wouldn't be necessary. He grabbed the empty bottle and handed it to the officer, reading off the label Sam had produced to prove that there was no way Dean could have lived. Plus, they already had him identified, so there was really no reason to bring the body anywhere but a morgue. With another stroke of good luck, the officer agreed, and dropped everything.

Castiel stayed hidden with Dean away from the officers and the BAU agents while the latter "released" Sam and brought him back to retrieve his vehicle. The agents were sure to be alone when they collected both the Winchester brother and the angel moments after Dean had vomited the pills back up just to be safe, then driving back to the woods where the Impala remained tucked away. Dean happily threw himself at his car in gratitude to be back with one of the things he held closest to his heart in this world, Sam saying that his brother was very protective of the Impala and always had been, so something like this was honestly normal.

Gideon climbed from the driver's seat of the SUV and stood before the brothers and Castiel, offering a small smile. "Surely you know that you can't show your faces around here ever again," he said. The four of them laughed, glad to be out of that terrible situation. "Still, I'm surprised. I never would have guessed all those things truly existed, let alone that you three monitor their populations." Dean shrugged his shoulders with the slightest sense of humbleness before replying.

"Yeah, I guess we're kinda important."

The rest of the group approached the angel and the brothers, thanking them for helping with the case and shaking their hands. Reid called Sam over to where he was standing in order to break him apart from the crowd and speak with him in private, Dean following his younger brother over to the agent. "Thank you, Reid," Sam said, slightly annoyed that his brother hadn't thanked the agent before him, hoping they didn't appear to be rude at all. Of course, the way Dean saw it, all the agents did was get in their way, and he (sadly) wasn't entirely incorrect.

"You can actually call me Spencer," Reid replied, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly in a small smile. He handed the journal back to Sam. "Honestly, we should be thanking the both of you. And your friend, of course." Dean scoffed.

"Damn right you should be," he mumbled. There was a moment of collective laughter that immediately quieted when Hotch approached their small group.

"Reid, we're leaving for Quantico in ten minutes." The younger agent replied that he understood, and Hotch nodded at the brothers.

"Is it bad to say that I hope we never see you again?" Dean asked once Hotch had wandered off again. Instead of being offended, Reid simply chuckled and shook his head. "Good. Now beat it, we all have jobs to do." It was one of the more bittersweet things Dean had said, considering Spencer reminded him a whole lot of Sam. If he didn't know any better, he would probably make fun of the both of them for being so similar, but he was tired and sick and really just wanted to leave and never see anyone from the BAU ever again. This, of course, proved to be a useless hope as Morgan walked up to them, Castiel just a few feet behind him.

"I wanted to thank you guys for saving my ass back there," Morgan said. Sam and Dean nodded, but remained quiet. It was ironic that Morgan reminded Sam of his older brother, but he wasn't willing to say anything about it. He was genuinely surprised that the two hadn't butted heads at all. "What we all do, it takes guts, and I wouldn't be here right now if the both of you didn't get me out of there."

"Don't worry about it," Sam stated, "it's what we do."

Once everyone was done thanking everyone else and they had all said their goodbyes, the Winchesters (along with Castiel, as usual) hopped into the Impala and drove off. It was strange, and almost everyone felt as though they didn't truly mean it when they said they hoped they never crossed paths again. Maybe not Prentiss though, something about them rubbed her the wrong way, but even J.J. who didn't spend a lot of time working with them was slightly hoping they all didn't have to part ways. The agents finished all the business with the local officers who thanked them for flying down before getting on the jet and taking off for Virginia. While on the jet, Reid ran through all the information he had read in the journal through his head before picking up his own journal and jotting things down. He usually took notes on cases, and this was one he had been dying to write down. Morgan slid his headphones on over his ears and thought about having his father back in that dream. Sure, it didn't feel proper, but he missed it, and truly did wish it wasn't just a dream.

Emily sat down beside him and jabbed his arm with a finger, smiling as he removed the headphones to listen to what she had to say. "Those guys said that those weird genie things make you dream about your greatest wish," she began, noting the way Morgan's expressions reflected the fact that he already knew what she was going to ask; "so, what did your pretty little head dream about?"

"It was nothing," Morgan lied with a small shrug, avoiding looking at Prentiss and instead watching Hotch and J.J. talk about upcoming cases on the other end of the jet. Gideon, sat in earshot of the Morgan and Prentiss, tuned in to their conversation. "I assume it was what most people dream about, ya know? winning the lottery and stuff." He laughed it off and went to put his headphones back on, only to be stopped by Prentiss and her judgemental eyes. "What?" he questioned defensively.

"That's a lie, Derek. You can't just lie to someone who knows you, especially not if they profile people for a living." Morgan sighed and lowered his arms in defeat.

"Fine. I dreamt about my father, okay? It's no big deal, just a stupid little fantasy. It wasn't real." His words were harsh, but his tone was oddly calm. By this point, both Gideon and Reid had turned to listen, and Morgan realized that nearly everyone was interested in his wish. "It's no big deal," he repeated, finally putting his headphones back on. Emily turned to Reid and gave him a confused look, the younger agent simply shrugging his shoulders in reply and returning to writing in this thought log.

When they landed, Morgan apologized to Emily who brushed it off with no hard feelings. After all, they were basically family, and she couldn't blame him for wanting his father back. Funnily enough, states away, there was someone else that Morgan knew almost nothing about who had a similar dream when he was captured by a Djinn, and his brother had talked the dream out of him. It simply went to show that there were reasons the goodbye between these practical strangers was so bittersweet, and even with all the supernatural knowledge floating around in their heads, nobody knew just what it was.