Fic: Dr. Lance Sweets, Jeffersonian Psychiatrist
Dr. Lance Sweets, Jeffersonian Psychiatrist
Part 6 of the FBI, SULFUR Division
By PaBurke
Spoilers: As AU as this thing is, it still has slight spoilers for Bones season two and SPN ‘In My Time of Dying.’
Summary: There’s a sub-division of the FBI called the SULFUR Unit. They hire some familiar faces and hunt down the supernatural within the greyer boundaries of the law all over the United States. This allows them to interact with some of my other favorite TV procedural dramas.
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. I’m playing in all universes.
Rating: PG-13
*
“What do you need, Sweets?” Seeley Booth asked the shrink. He had a skeleton made up of three couples and some etching on the bones and no leads.
“I need someone who understands how people this deep into the occult think. It’s not something that is regularly studied. Some have even written books saying that the occult hysteria of the 1980s was psychiatrist induced. There is no indication of that kind of outside influence here.”
Booth had to smirk. “We’ve got both ends of the spectrum in the FBI.”
“Really?”
“Yes. A leader of the Behavior Analysis Unit wrote a book on it and then there is the lesser known SULFUR unit that takes extreme care to keep all such events out of the news, before it can be acknowledged by the BAU.”
“I’ve read Agent Rossi’s book, but who can I talk to about actual events?” Sweets asked.
“I’ll put the request in and try to rush it through the proper channels.” Booth was already walking away.
Sweets didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the trucker waiting in the Japanese section of the Jeffersonian. From the way that his lips were moving, he could probably read the script. “Doctor Singer?” he asked the man.
The grizzled man nodded and shook his hand. “You’re Dr. Sweets. Agent Booth pulled a favor and asked me to talk to you about the psychiatric affects of the occult on a population.”
“Yes. Thank you for meeting with me.”
“What do you need to know?”
Sweets paused before speaking. “I need to know the psychiatric affects of the occult on a population.”
“Which population? How big? Which type of occult?”
“All of them?” Sweets asked back.
Singer snorted. “You don’t have time for that. I still haven’t learned all of that.”
Sweets could understand that. “What do you know about sacred trees?”
“Ah hell,” Singer muttered. “Is there a freaky-ass scarecrow that goes with it?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, there is. Several couples were killed and stripped down to their bones and worked into a single figure that was clothed in rags.”
“Apple orchard?” Singer guessed.
“No. This one was a peach orchard. In Georgia.”
“Peach? But it was a smallish town, I’m sure.” Singer frowned. “The sacred trees are more of a Scandinavian thing. Normally there’s a tree that came from the mother country.”
Sweets was already working on his profile. “Someone who knows their history and family is deeply important.”
“Very insular,” Singer added. “They might be friendly, but they have big secrets and there’s a group that are sacrificing the couples to a god. Probably three to five families know about it or are involved.”
Sweets nodded. “That’s large for a conspiracy. They must all truly believe in the results. According to the scientists, the killing happens every twenty years or so. Something about advances in dental work, surgery and bone alignment.”
“Easy-goin’ god,” Singer muttered. “Where is this town?”
“Peachtree.”
Singer nodded. “I’ll look into it and see if I can get you anything more.”
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Singer,” Sweets shook his hand again. “I will be waiting for anything more you can tell me.”
Singer grunted and meandered away, obviously thinking. Then the oldest peach orchard in town burned to the ground (Booth swore up and down that he didn’t do it). Four different families were overly upset with the destruction. It didn’t take too much time in interrogation to discover that all members over the age of eighteen had been involved in some part of the killings and cover up.
Sweets sent a thank-you note to Dr. Singer and never heard back from him.
*
Part 6 of the FBI, SULFUR Division
By PaBurke
Spoilers: As AU as this thing is, it still has slight spoilers for Bones season two and SPN ‘In My Time of Dying.’
Summary: There’s a sub-division of the FBI called the SULFUR Unit. They hire some familiar faces and hunt down the supernatural within the greyer boundaries of the law all over the United States. This allows them to interact with some of my other favorite TV procedural dramas.
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. I’m playing in all universes.
Rating: PG-13
*
“What do you need, Sweets?” Seeley Booth asked the shrink. He had a skeleton made up of three couples and some etching on the bones and no leads.
“I need someone who understands how people this deep into the occult think. It’s not something that is regularly studied. Some have even written books saying that the occult hysteria of the 1980s was psychiatrist induced. There is no indication of that kind of outside influence here.”
Booth had to smirk. “We’ve got both ends of the spectrum in the FBI.”
“Really?”
“Yes. A leader of the Behavior Analysis Unit wrote a book on it and then there is the lesser known SULFUR unit that takes extreme care to keep all such events out of the news, before it can be acknowledged by the BAU.”
“I’ve read Agent Rossi’s book, but who can I talk to about actual events?” Sweets asked.
“I’ll put the request in and try to rush it through the proper channels.” Booth was already walking away.
Sweets didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the trucker waiting in the Japanese section of the Jeffersonian. From the way that his lips were moving, he could probably read the script. “Doctor Singer?” he asked the man.
The grizzled man nodded and shook his hand. “You’re Dr. Sweets. Agent Booth pulled a favor and asked me to talk to you about the psychiatric affects of the occult on a population.”
“Yes. Thank you for meeting with me.”
“What do you need to know?”
Sweets paused before speaking. “I need to know the psychiatric affects of the occult on a population.”
“Which population? How big? Which type of occult?”
“All of them?” Sweets asked back.
Singer snorted. “You don’t have time for that. I still haven’t learned all of that.”
Sweets could understand that. “What do you know about sacred trees?”
“Ah hell,” Singer muttered. “Is there a freaky-ass scarecrow that goes with it?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, there is. Several couples were killed and stripped down to their bones and worked into a single figure that was clothed in rags.”
“Apple orchard?” Singer guessed.
“No. This one was a peach orchard. In Georgia.”
“Peach? But it was a smallish town, I’m sure.” Singer frowned. “The sacred trees are more of a Scandinavian thing. Normally there’s a tree that came from the mother country.”
Sweets was already working on his profile. “Someone who knows their history and family is deeply important.”
“Very insular,” Singer added. “They might be friendly, but they have big secrets and there’s a group that are sacrificing the couples to a god. Probably three to five families know about it or are involved.”
Sweets nodded. “That’s large for a conspiracy. They must all truly believe in the results. According to the scientists, the killing happens every twenty years or so. Something about advances in dental work, surgery and bone alignment.”
“Easy-goin’ god,” Singer muttered. “Where is this town?”
“Peachtree.”
Singer nodded. “I’ll look into it and see if I can get you anything more.”
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Singer,” Sweets shook his hand again. “I will be waiting for anything more you can tell me.”
Singer grunted and meandered away, obviously thinking. Then the oldest peach orchard in town burned to the ground (Booth swore up and down that he didn’t do it). Four different families were overly upset with the destruction. It didn’t take too much time in interrogation to discover that all members over the age of eighteen had been involved in some part of the killings and cover up.
Sweets sent a thank-you note to Dr. Singer and never heard back from him.
*