Supply and Demand: Repeat Business Part 3/5 (SPN/Criminal Minds AU Crossover)
Supply and Demand: Repeat Business Part 3/5 (SPN/Criminal Minds AU Crossover)
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/Criminal Minds
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Dean would grow his hair longer and Sam would cut his. Creative licence on historical accuracy. It’s an AU after all. That is all.
Summary: Criminal Minds/SPN Crossover AU. Mitch Koravi was dead, to begin with. But when a man is killed using his exact MO, the BAU have to eat humble pie and bring back the Empath told them their case was not closed, Dean Winchester
Spoilers: set somewhere during Season 5 of Criminal Minds, post ep 100 and AU for SPN (all seasons).
Chapter 3
‘There is only a small, contradictory note in an old Caliph’s personal record that confirms the biblical account. It notes that ‘Adremeloch and Shazer died a traitor’s death in the high mountains.’ The inconsistent use of the name Armenia may be as a result of faulty translation or well intentioned ‘fixing’ but the Caliph’s record was already several years after the events and could be seen as reliable as the account of Atlantis.
None the less, the fate of the sons aside the first real, however obscure, reference to the four daggers is in the history of a young Persian prince who makes mention of them, or rather mentions his teacher’s reference of the daggers and the rumour that a distant uncle had procured them. The Prince does not confirm if this was his uncle or the teacher’s and since the prince’s identity itself is uncertain... but none the less... the phrase ‘senacherib’s daggers’ is very clear.
Clarke notes that there are several notations in inventories of households and treasuries for the next several centuries that specifically note: ‘Daggers of Senacherib’ but judging by the conflicting dates and several overlapping time frames, there appears to have been forgeries. Huglier even supposes that the legend around the supposed ‘curse’ only increased the likelihood of forgeries. If the dagger in the Jeffersonian is in fact one of the fabled Senacherib daggers, then where are its fellows and how would I go about verifying it? The note in the catalogue is simply ‘circa 800 BE, Assyrian. Nineveh?’ Hardly conclusive, but Samuels swears it could be it. Where the other three are, who knows. Have an appointment at the Jeffersonian for tomorrow. Samuels will meet me at the lab.’
Notes on Thesis - Mitch Koravi.
c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*
The unsub took off like a shot, pushing through and past the crowd, disappearing into the masses of early morning pedestrians on their way to work. Both Derek and Dean were after him immediately, dodging past startled passerbys, Hotchner and Emily trailing them, trying to weave through.
Rossi stopped really not prepared to chase down a suspect on foot, nodded at Reid and they ran over to Hotch’s town car, the nearest BAU vehicle. A few of the officers and agents on scene were standing around a little confused and Rossi yelled at them, “Call it in, agents pursuing a suspect on foot.”
Derek meanwhile was trying to get a good look at the unsub, who was moving pretty damn fast, ducking around people, dirty white shirt blending into the crowd. Naturally, people were stopping to look at the fuss, the nearby crime scene, the shouts and exclamations and Derek yelled over the top of the crowd as loud as he could, “FBI! Move!”
Dean was still in the lead much to Derek’s annoyance, the guy threading his way through the crowds much faster and Derek had to push himself to keep up. Twisting and turning, too often crashing into people who had stepped out of Dean’s way, Morgan growled, trying not to shove too forcibly, but needing to get through. Not really wanting to risk the time to look, Derek did so nonetheless and saw Prentiss and Hotchner not too far behind, but dealing with even more irate people, who were getting knocked into for the 3rd and 4th time.
The unsub remained a fleeting figure, ducking and dodging ahead of them, and Winchester was actually gaining on him, leaving Derek behind. There was a sudden break in the crowd and Morgan used that to his advantage speeding up to catch Dean, muscles burning as he did so. Intent on closing the distance, he just about ran into the back of Winchester when he stopped suddenly, and cursed.
“Shit, where the hell did he go?”
“What?” Derek shouted, straining to see over the crowd, “You lost him?”
Anxious seconds ticked by as they both scanned the crowd and they could both hear the sounds of Hotchner and Prentiss coming up behind them, feet slapping on the pavement, calls of ‘FBI!’ Derek felt a charge build in the air between them and Dean suddenly yelled, “Got him, there!”
Looking himself and spotting the white shirt rounding a corner, Derek was ready for the burst of speed this time and was close on Winchester’s heels, following in his wake. The charged feel around Dean did not diminish and it felt like there was a tangible force around him and even as he ran, boots pounding into the ground, Derek noticed that people were stepping out of their way before they actually reached them.
No longer caught in the aftermath of confused people brushed aside by an empathic forcefield of ‘get of the way’, Derek was now able to keep up with ease, watching more where the unsub was running than they were, trusting Dean to clear the road.
“He’s heading towards the train station!” Derek shouted, noting the signs and increase in people as commuters suddenly thronged the street.
Winchester gave no indication that he heard but he sped up and Derek felt his own muscles burning in response, matching the pace, chest tight with adrenalin. The unsub darted into a side tunnel that fed into the main building of the station and seconds later Winchester was there and Derek blinked against the sudden drop in light and automatically slowed down, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He heard Hotch yell, “Morgan!” and shouted back, hoping they heard him, “In here!”
The press of people was even greater now and he lost Dean in the crowd, slowing down even more without the emphatic barrier clearing the way. “FBI! Move, move!”
The crowd parted reluctantly, a lot of frowns and exclamations and then Derek was through, into the main body of the station and he looked around, and was surprised to see Hotchner and Prentiss arriving at the main entrance. They both pointed up to the left and there was Winchester taking the stairs to the second floor two at the time. The unsub however was out of sight, lost in the press of commuters.
“Shit.” Morgan only just beat Hotch and Emily to the staircase and pushed his legs to take the stairs two at a time, feeling his thighs pull with the motion but dug into reserves well maintained for just this. Hotch and Emily were red faced and breathing heavily behind him, but keeping up. At the top of the stairs, he slowed as no one not Winchester or unsub were in sight but Hotchner barrelled past him, unerringly turning left and racing down the corridor, heading towards a door marked ‘Exit’.
Side by side with Emily, he shot her a grim smile and she returned it and waved her cell at him. “Rossi’s outside with the PD, trying to cordon off the area. They should have all exits covered by now.”
Hotch shouldered open a fire exit, a beam of light blinding them momentarily, Hotch a brief silhouette against the square of light before disappearing. Catching the door before it closed completely, Derek shoved it open and took a moment to draw his weapon, Emily mirroring him.
The roof area was relatively small and flat, the occasional box of an air conditioning unit scattered around. But there was nowhere to hide, really and Winchester had the unsub cornered, trapped at the edge of the roof, a two storey drop below.
Scanning the immediate area, they slowed and walked towards Hotch who had his weapon drawn as well. As they got close Derek felt his skin tighten and there was a hint of ozone in the air and he figured Winchester was using his abilities to pen the guy in. Emily was rapid fire relaying the details to Rossi who was no doubt on the street below.
The unsub was smiling, barely looked worried at all and if that didn’t make Derek nervous, nothing did. Scanning the immediate area again, he wondered if this was some sort of trap.
Aaron was trying to catch his breath, uncomfortably discomforted by the run and just how unfit he was afterall. Winchester barely looked out of breath, but his grey jump suit was already darker with sweat and his face was drenched with the effort of holding up a physical kinetic barrier behind the unsub. The buzz of adrenalin from him was ... heady, to say the least.
It was imperative that they bring the guy in alive, they needed answers on just how and why he was mimicking Korvai and Sorenson, so Aaron projected as much ‘calm’ as he could and said firmly, “Your options are limited, sir. Step down and let’s talk.”
The unsub’s creepy smile didn’t waver, nor did his attention which was fixed on Hotch. It was hardly the most disturbing stare that had been directed at him over the years, but it reminded him a little too much of Foyet.
Although not connected, Hotch could feel the barrier behind the unsub, and knew it was weakening, the unsub actually leaning against it, resting his weight on it. “Step down, now.” Dean’s hands were shaking, both held out like he was physically holding up the barrier, his empathic abilities not really cut for this sort of thing.
The unsub, a middle aged man with a full head of light blond hair smiled widely, and deliberately stepped back, off the ledge. He hung for several seconds, his entire weight suspended by Dean’s empathic kinesis and even as Hotch opened his mouth to shout, ‘No,’ he felt Winchester reach out to him and demand a kinetic boost. Instinctively, automatically and without real thought, Hotchner rebuffed the plea, slammed down his barriers and in that moment, the unsub dropped out of sight.
“No!” Derek echoed behind him and Aaron felt Winchester’s disappointment briefly before the empathic field collapsed and Dean slumped forward, hands on knees, trying to catch his breath, pale and shaking.
Stunned silence fell over them, Emily’s mouth hanging open, the tinny voice of Rossi distinct from the phone in her hand. Belatedly, Prentiss put the instrument to her ear and nodded, “Have you ... yeah... yeah...” She looked up from the phone and said bitterly, “He’s dead. Heart’s stopped completely, but they’re trying to revive him.”
It wasn’t that much of a drop, but would be enough, and Hotch felt a surge of guilt and anger from Dean, that mirrored his own completely. A stiff morning breeze picked up an errant piece of paper and blew it across the roof, all four of them stunned into immobility.
In an explosion of frustration and anger Morgan kicked a stray beer can, sending it clattering across the roof and Aaron tried to quash down the guilt and get moving - do something. There was still a plethora of unanswered questions and if it turned out this suspect had no link, evidentiary or otherwise, to the victim, they were going to be in world of trouble.
Pulling out his own cell, noting the two missed calls, and wondering if he should bother phoning Chief Strauss just yet, Hotch felt the breeze turn cold, a run of goosebumps pimpling his arms. On his haunches, trying to catch his breath, Dean looked up as well, his forehead creased in concern. Looking around, wondering what had peaked Winchester’s attention, a ripple of anxiety in the rush of adrenalin from Dean, Hotch spotted the glint of metal at the base of the roof ledge.
Suddenly compelled with curiosity, he stumbled forward, the glint of metal drawing him in like a magpie. He heard the sound of a rising wind, as if a storm was picking up and there in a pile of trash was a rusty looking blade. The dull roar of the wind grew to a crescendo and without thinking about it, barely aware of Winchester’s shout he knelt, picked it up and the world exploded into white.
Half listening to Emily direct the crime scene techs to the roof, Derek spun around at Winchester’s shout and he saw Hotch standing near the edge, holding a knife, an old looking dagger type .... thing. What in the hell was Hotch doing tampering with evidence, doing the unthinkable? He opened his mouth to call out, and then Hotch turned around.
Dean was already moving towards him, stumbling a little as his knees wobbled but when Hotch looked up, it was like looking at someone else, his face was loose and smiling, an evil grin twisting his lips.
“Drop it, Hotchner, now!” Dean shouted, and Derek felt a weak shove at Hotch, which barely ruffled his suit jacket. Confused and instantly uncomfortable with the way Hotch was looking at him, so very reminiscent of the way the unsub had, Derek instinctively raised his gun.
A dull clap of kinetic detonation sent Winchester flying back, into Emily, who had only just realised what was going on. Snapping his weapon up now, Derek yelled, “Stop, Hotch. What the hell....”
The kinetic wave that hit him was solid like a brick and his gun went flying out of his hand. Hotch, that awful smile still on his face, stepped forward, raising the blade and Winchester charged, swinging a metal pole.
Hotch caught it one handed, then dropped it like it burned and took off, heading back into the station. Without really thinking about it, Derek staggered to his feet and stumbled after Winchester, yelling at Emily who was still getting to her own feet. “Call Rossi!”
What in the hell was going on?
c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*
When Aaron opened his eyes, the light was bright and he could feel the sun on his face. The wind was dry and hot, the breath of the desert. Squinting, feeling the lines on his face crease and crackle, he looked out at the vast expanse of his empire.
He could still taste the bitter pangs of defeat, the rise of bile at the thought, the very idea that something so puny and insignificant had routed his army. Not even the sight of Nineveh stretching out before him could allay the bitter reality that his long list of victories were diminished, ridiculed by this defeat.
Hotchner drew his short, beautifully carved blade, and studied its perfect balance and imagery. Esar-haddon had given him this in celebration of his victory over the Hittites. Now, now, he could only think of the walls of Jerusalem. Those pitiful, insignificant walls which had defied him.
The whisper of movement was his only warning, and Aaron turned just in time to see his son, Adrammelech lunge forward, a short blade already streaking towards his heart. He blocked that blow, long experience and training in the dusty training grounds serving him well, no matter how many years it had been since his youth.
It had also been many years since he’d felt the bite of a blade, but there was no mistake the sharp pain at his side. Turning, keeping one eye on his treacherous son, Aaron turned in time to see and feel Sharezer sink another blade into his kidneys. Adrammelech used his distraction to plunge a third, thirsty dagger straight into his lung, blade angled up and accurate and everything grew grey and black and then Aaron was looking up at his sons, the jewels on their sandals covered in dust. Adrammalech knelt and raised his hand to sink a fourth blade, straight into his father’s heart and Aaron felt the rise of anger, of hate. The blade was plain, dull even, a simple work blade, hardly befitting his sons, let alone a king, an Emperor.
He thrust out, caught his son’s arm and twisted it in an iron grip, yelling, “Traitor! Son of a misbegotten whore! Thrice cursed ....”
Adrammalech’s face paled, as did Sharezer’s and they both backed off, stumbling on those pretty jewelled feet. Aaron yelled again, “I will yoke and blind you! Spilt you from ass to throat, you ungrateful, murderous bastards!”
Adrammalech and Sharezer ran as if their lives depended on it, which it did and as Aaron stood he felt different, stronger, freer. For a split second he turned, wondering what lay at his feet and saw a bloody, dying old man, face lined with regret and tears and he wondered. The distant, panicked foot falls of his sons though were already echoing through the temple and Aaron gave the dying old man no further thought and ran after his treacherous sons.
There was a flash and he was no longer the hunter, but the pursued, young traitors, usurpers hot on his heels, thirsting for his blood, his throne. Come, come, little sons, a prize awaits you. Come. Hotch white knuckled the blade in his hand, the only one that did not sink and fall and taste his blood. It would taste royal blood soon. Come, little sons. Run.
c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*
“So Sennacherib king of Assyria departed, and went and returned, and dwelt in Nineveh.
And it came to pass, as he was worshipping in the house of Nisroch his god, that Adrammelech and Sharezer his sons smote him with the sword; and they escaped into the land of Armenia; and Esar-haddon his son reigned in his stead.”
Isaiah 37:37-38
c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*
- An open Empath is like a fire. No, no, like an electric socket and you’re charging your cellphone. Plug in, charge up and you’re good to go for a few weeks. I guess working for T&E isn’t too bad, there are a lot of perks, you know. The money is good, the benefits are amazing and they really look after your family. But the biggest and best perk - regular access to an Empath. There is nothing on earth quite like tapping into an Empathic field, man. Nothing. And the really strong Empaths... they can like charge, or run two or three Kinetics at a time. I once worked on a bodyguard detail for a billionaire, sorry confidentiality, can’t tell you who, and it was mind blowing being jacked into an Empath with two other Kinetics. The things we could do ... dude, totally wicked!
Extract of Kinetic Recruitment Video, interview of Keith Taylor, class 3 Kinetic.
c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*n* c*m*s*p*n*c*m*s*p*