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Chapter Text

It was meant to be a simple case. A couple vials of dead man’s blood, a few decapitations, nothing they hadn’t done before.

After Jack had taken over from God following the “destruction of thousands of parallel universes and near eradication of the Earth” incident, life had become significantly calmer for the Winchesters and Castiel. They had all agreed to take a step back from hunting and enjoy their life. Sam would still do research for cases but would hand them over for Claire or Jody to handle, they would still handle the occasional hunt if there was no one else to take care of it. It was decided that the four of them (Dean, Castiel, Jack and Sam) would head to Quantico, Virginia to take care of it.

Cas and Sam were hesitant to let Jack participate in a hunt, but Dean insisted that it was important for Jack to know how to defend himself from monsters and it wasn’t like he could get hurt because he was, you know, God. By the time they found the nest the five vamps they had been expecting had turned out to be thirty-five and even Castiel was having a time keeping up. In retrospect they probably should have handled the hunt with a little bit more discretion as when civilians saw blood splatter against the windows of an abandoned house on the outskirts of town, they tended to call 911. When the police arrived just in time to see Dean behead the final vamp, who quite unfortunately had the appearance of a young woman, there was no way the Winchesters could feign ignorance. And that is how two presumed dead ‘serial killers’, an angel of the lord and God ended up in handcuffs in the FBI headquarters at three in the morning.

“Good morning crime fighters.”

While this statement would normally be more upbeat and cheerier, it was instead accompanied by a tired looking Garcia holding a cup of coffee. It was hard to be cheerful when you were called into work at three in the morning because two dead serial killers decided it was the perfect time to resurface and go on a murder spree.

“Our unsubs are a certain Sam and Dean Winchester who were picked up this morning along with two accomplices after a witness called 911 after seeing bloody window and hearing screaming coming from inside an abandoned house. Officers arrived just in time to…” Garcia glanced down at her tablet, “…witness Dean Winchester behead a young woman.” She winced, “Wow. Talk about Icky.”

“I thought both Winchesters were killed after committing robbery-homicide.”

“They’ve both successfully faked their deaths twice beforehand, once in St. Louis and once in helicopter explosion after being apprehended by FBI Agent Victor Henriksen in Milwaukee, so it stands to reason that they have done it a third time.” Reid piped up.

Rossi meanwhile was looking over the file with deep concentration etched on his face, “Well, what do we know about these accomplices? The initial profile indicated they don’t play well with others.”

Garcia turned back to the screen and hit a button on the remote, a family photo of a smiling man with black hair and blue eyes in a buttoned collared shirt standing beside his wife and small daughter appeared on the screen, “One of the Winchester’s accomplices has been identified as one James Novak who was reported missing by his wife, Amelia, after claiming angels were speaking to him, shortly after Amelia also disappeared. Oh…” Garcia looked up briefly before continuing speaking with a look that she reserved for victims and unsubs with sad backstories, “They left behind their daughter, Claire, who bounced around foster homes before dropping off the grid when she was eighteen.”

“Why would a good, loving Christian family man, who was a present and upstanding member of the community, might I add, leave his family and vanish of the face of the earth without so much as a goodbye?” Prentiss questioned.

“The Winchesters have a deep-seated belief in the supernatural passed down from their father, Novak’s mental illness might have made the Winchesters beliefs sound plausible. They were probably the only people in his life who believed him about the voices and made him feel validated and therefore develop a dangerous co-dependency with them. We should play into Novak’s belief if we want his cooperation. Rossi, I want you with me in the interrogation room, he might respond to you better because your catholic. I want the rest of your interviewing the Winchesters and their accomplice, this could mean finally putting them behind bars.” Said Hotch.

The BAU stood up from the table and made their way to the interrogation rooms.

Chapter Text

Hotch and Rossi entered the interrogation room where James Novak was sitting perfectly straight, cuffed hands clasped in front of him. He was looking at them with a squinted stare that had Rossi suppressing shudder. It was almost like the man could see straight though him. As per Hotch’s suggestion his crucifix necklace was hanging over the top of his shirt so it would be visible to Novak.

Hotch kept his face impassive as he sat down next to Rossi, placing the file down gently on the table.

“Mr Novak,” Rossi began as the man fixed him with another dead-eyed stare, “Can I call you James?”

Asking unsubs if you could call them by their first name generally worked best with those who were suffering from delusions or Stockholm Syndrome as Mr Novak undoubtedly was. This gesture made them feel humanised and therefore made them trustful and were more likely to give up information.

Instead, Novak tilted his head to the side, eyes squinted, “I do not understand.”

“What don’t you understand James?” Hotch asked.

“Why are you calling me that?”

“That’s your name James,” Rossi said softly, it seemed that the Winchesters brainwashing was far more apparent than he thought, “Do you remember your wife, Amelia calling you that?”

“You…do not seem to understand. I am not James Novak. James Novak was ripped apart on a subatomic level by an archangel.”

While Rossi froze up processing what the hell the man in front of him just said, Hotch pressed forward, “What is your name then?”

“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the lord.”

Rossi and Hotch had left the room and walked back to the round table purely confused on how to proceed. Reid was standing in front of a map of America pinned up on the board nearly completely covered in red pins, completely lost in thought.

Rossi let out a low whistle, “Wow, what’ve you got there kid?”

Reid turned around, startled nearly spilling what was sure to be at least his fourth cup of coffee. He straightened himself before launching into an explanation, “The pins represent cases that are connected to the Winchesters, but I’ve noticed a pattern. The murders start before the Winchesters are in town and end when the Winchesters leave. Which means-”

“They’re vigilantes,” Hotch cut in, “We need to rethink our initial profile. This might also explain Novak’s identity confusion.”

“What do you mean?” Reid asked, confused.

“Novak is convinced that he is the angel Castiel and Novak was *ahem* ‘ripped apart on a subatomic level by and archangel’” Rossi said, a hint of a sarcastic smile curling on his lips.

Reid’s eyes widened briefly before staring off blankly, clearly in deep thought.

“Reid?” Hotch prompted.

He quickly glanced up, “Oh! Sorry. Novak developing this split is definitely some form of multiple personality disorder. What confuses me is his original delusion of angel’s voices which would typically point to schizophrenia has progressed into a split personality. The chances of these to disorders co-occurring, especially this seamlessly, is less than twenty percent.”

“It must have something to do with the Winchesters. After a while the delusions wouldn’t have been enough to keep them around so his personality must have split to personify these voices to ensure his survival.” Hotch said.

They stood around the table, stumped. If the man in the interrogation room believed he wasn’t James Novak it meant that they had no leverage on him or any knowledge on this personality or how it would react.

Reid suddenly looked up, “Rossi, you know how we talked about using your Catholicism as a way to gain Novak’s trust?”

“Yes?” Rossi answered.

“What if you pretended to suffer from the same delusion? If he believes you are like him that you were also ‘chosen’ for a higher purpose not only will we get information about the Winchesters, but he will provide insight into his delusions.”

Hotch furrowed his brow, “I think you’re on to something Reid. Rossi you will go back in alone.”

When Rossi walked back into the room, he made sure to have a slightly paranoid expression and made sure to throw a few less than subtle glances towards the camera and the two-way mirror before sitting down, “Castiel, how…” he swallowed and glanced around again before leaning forward and lowering his voice so it was barely above a whisper, “How did James know that you were speaking to him?”

Castiel looked mildly confused at the question but answered anyway, “He was a devout man. He prayed for this. I let him hear my true voice then I made him prove his faith to me by putting his arm in a pot of boiling water.”

What. Rossi blinked trying to not let shock show on his face.

Castiel didn’t seem to notice and continued speaking, “He called to me and made an offer to help. He told me he would let me in if I kept his family safe.”
Well, it looks like you didn’t do a very good job, thought Rossi, “I turned off the cameras, the rest of the team doesn’t know I’m in here. I’ve…also been hearing voices.”

Castiel was now looking mildly intrigued.

“They keep saying I’ve been chosen for a higher purpose. Do you think…it could be an angel?”

The next thing that came out of Castiel’s mouth was a series of strange noises that seemed physically impossible for a human to make. To say Rossi was confused would be an understatement.

“That was Enochian.” Castiel stated, “If an angel were truly present in your mind you would have understood it. Do not lie to me Agent Rossi.”

Thankfully that was the moment where Hotch decided to re-enter, “Castiel, we only want to help you. We know what the Winchesters did to you, to James. Did they threaten to hurt your family when you wanted to leave? Is that why Amelia and Claire disappeared? We can help you and your family; we can make sure the Winchesters never come near you again.”

“Why would Claire need helping? She is on a hunt with Kaia, she called me this morning. She is perfectly fine.”

Seeing a man, a father nonetheless, speaking so casually about letting his daughter become a serial killer chilled Rossi to his core, “What about Amelia, huh? Where is she?”

Surprisingly, a look of sorrow came over his face, “Amelia was killed by a Grigori many years ago. Sam and Dean tried their best to save her.”

“Is that what they told you so you would stop wanting to leave and make sure she was okay? Did they think she was a monster too?”

“No.”

“Really?” Rossi said sarcastically, “Because the Winchesters have such a good track record with people they think are monsters. You know come to think of it maybe you were so eager to just get a shred approval from the Winchesters that you killed her and made up a story so they would view as their equal and not think of you for what you really are a sad, pathetic man desperate for the approval of those he could only dream of being!”

Given what they had so far on Novak’s profile this should trigger him, make him break. Desperate to prove he was as good as the Winchesters if not better. Instead when he’d finished speaking Castiel, who had maintained eye contact for the entire interrogation, tilted his head to the side and spoken in the same even-toned gravelly voice.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Prentiss hated it was being sex appeal for serial killers. The profile that they had so far on Dean Winchester made it clear that Dean’s narcissistic tendencies would prevent him from ever settling down with a woman. This paired with his blatant misogyny led to an incredibly dangerous combination that would become violent following rejection. Reid had speculated that this is what resulted in Jessica Moore and Meg Masters’ deaths. That unfortunately meant that as badly as Prentiss and JJ wanted to, they could not insult the living hell out of Dean as it would be “counter-productive” as Hotch had put it despite Prentiss’s loudly voiced protests.

They decided that Prentiss would go in first and if needed JJ would come in after. They had decided against sending JJ in as Dean might view her as a surrogate for Meg Masters. Dean was obviously the dominant when it was just him and his brother killing as a partnership and it was evident from the way Castiel had defended him that he was also the leader of the Winchester ‘cult’. He was their best shot at getting information.

Prentiss walked into the interrogation room, hair loose around her shoulders making sure to have an easy-going smirk plastered on her face. She pulled out her chair and sat down, elbows resting on the table in front of her.

Dean had sat up a little straighter when she sat down, “You know, this reminds me of the last time I was in an interrogation room with an FBI agent. Though you are a lot easier on the eyes, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Prentiss barely contained her flinch at the mention of Agent Henrickson. The way he spoke so casually about murdering an entire police precinct full of people was nothing short of horrifying. She quickly plastered the seductive smirk back in place, “Not at all Mr Winchester.”

He gave a short laugh, “Please, Mr Winchester was my father, call me Dean.” He went to offer his hand to her stopping short when he realised his hands were cuffed underneath the table.

“I never get the gentlemen.”

“Well, it looks like today is your lucky day.”

Prentiss could hardly believe her luck; Dean was playing right into her hands. She just had to keep this up a little bit longer and they would have all the information needed to send the smarmy son of a bitch to jail.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, the boss doesn’t have nearly enough evidence to keep you here, he just wants me to ask you a few questions. You’ll probably be out of here by this evening, speaking of which…” She leant forward, “I get off work early, once this is over with, how about you and me have a little fun?”

There was a beat of silence. Prentiss waited for Dean’s response, eager to begin the questioning. She instead watched, confused as Dean’s face morphed into a wide smile as he burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” She demanded, feeling the tiniest bit insulted.

“Oh, man,” Dean sighed as he wiped tears of laughter out of his eyes, “ya know I really didn’t expect you to keep up the act for that long. Going to have to pass on that date though.”

He flashed a silver band on his ring finger, “My husband would smite me.”

Prentiss froze in utter shock. What. The. Fuck?

To be continued...

Chapter Text

Dean Winchester, misogynistic, womanizing, playboy, serial killer Dean Winchester was gay and married. Prentiss couldn’t figure out which of these facts was more shocking.

“-ello, fed lady? You good?”

Dean’s voice seemed to snap her back to reality.

“You’re…married?”

“Yeah, been married for…wow. It’s coming up to about a year now, that’s freaky now that I think about it.” He gave a short laugh, “Not what you were expecting was it?”

Prentiss instinctively fell back on the insult method, maybe he was bluffing? “Who would be crazy enough to marry you?”

He laughed again, “I’m hurt agent. But if you’re curious you can ask him, he’s the guy with the creepy trench coat and the thousand-yard stare you’ve got sitting in one of your interrogation rooms.”

The BAU were gathered around the round table feeling utterly stumped. They now had less of a profile then they had when they began.

“Are we thinking this is some form of brainwashing?” Morgan asked.

“It has to be,” Reid said, “Dean’s narcissism wouldn’t allow for him to form any kind of emotional or meaningful relationship especially not one that lasted for nearly a year.”

“From what we know about Dean’s nature, he values control above everything else. His and Mr Novak’s relationship was most likely just another way for him to assert control over his followers.” Hotch theorized.

JJ looked to be just as confused as the rest of them, “He’s probably already convinced himself on the validity of this relationship, undermining it will just make it harder for us to get anything out of him.”

“So how do we get him to open up?” Morgan said, “Because flattery clearly isn’t working.”

“Well Dean clearly valued his father’s teachings, he continued to carry on John’s legacy even after his death. If we can get him to realise how badly his father treated him, he might give us information.”

“Hotch, his father was a serial killer who brainwashed Dean since he was a child, it will be impossible to get through to him.”

“You’re right Morgan, but Dean is already showing signs of rejecting his father’s teaching.”

The team was looking confused. What did Hotch mean? Dean was still willing to kill innocent people just to be like his father and he hadn’t shown a hint of remorse.

“Oh.” Prentiss realised, “his boyfriend. Toxic relationship or not, something tells me John Winchester wouldn’t exactly approve.”

“I could go in,” JJ offered, “Dean lacked a mother figure his entire life, if I can fill that role, it might make it easier for him to reject his father’s methods.”

“Good idea JJ, he hasn’t asked for a lawyer so you shouldn’t have any issues getting through to him.” Hotch said.

After the truly impressive performance by the last fed who very obviously wanted to sucker-punch him in the face, Dean figured that they would send in a tough guy to try and intimidate him. He was already mentally compiling his and Castiel’s best moments in bed to recite to them just to see how much on their nerves he could get before one of them actually punched him.
He was interrupted from his mental image of the look on whatever tough guy fed they decided to send in when the door opened and the blonde fed that he had seen when they arrested him walked into the room. He was a little confused, but the blonde could easily be the tough guy fed. Hell, she looked downright terrifying when she cuffed Sam.

She wasn’t holding a file, which was strange if she was planning on berating him about the ‘horrible murders’ he committed. She sat down across from him, hands gently folded in front of her with a…sympathetic look on her face? It looked almost…motherly. Oh no. They were supposedly super-smart feds. Super-smart feds with access to his file.
Contrary to what most feds thought, Dean Winchester was not stupid. They obviously thought he was some sort of misogynistic psychopath. Which he definitely was NOT. Claire would kill him if he looked at a woman wrong. When the flirting didn’t work, he bet that they took a gander at his file and came to the conclusion that he had mommy issues as well as daddy issues and figured they’d send in the person who looked the closest to Mary Winchester. Dean felt offended on the blonde fed’s behalf. It would suck to have to pretend to like as well as sympathize with who you thought was a misogynistic, mass-murdering dirtbag. Besides she would have done a fantastic job at playing bad cop.

“Hi Dean, my name is JJ. I’m here to get your statement on what happened. Dean, the charges on you,” she fixed him with a look that made him feel like he just run over her dog, “they don’t look to good. Now we want to help you, but to do that we need to understand why you did this.”

Dean kept silent curious to see where she was going to go with this.

“Dean, I know you’re not a bad person. You’re just doing what your father told you. We know this isn’t your fault, you’re just doing what you were taught all your life.” She reached over to place her hand over his in a gesture of comfort.

Ah. So that was the plan, send in the fake mother to try and break him out of his father’s brainwashing. It felt a little bit mean to admit to that he had stopped looking up to that asshole years ago. But it seemed way more fun to surpass their expectations, besides it would make their jobs one hell of a lot easier.

Arranging his features into an expression of sincerity he spoke with easy-going casualness, “I know.”

The agent managed to hide her split-second expression of confusion before returning to the sympathetic mask. “It’s good that you know that Dean, do you think you could -”

“Yeah, he was a total asshole. An absolute dick too and when I say absolute, I mean ABSOLUTE. It was always ‘Dean do this’ and ‘Dean do that’, ‘Dean, kill your own brother’. It was a pain in the ass, he’d always get shitty when I wasn’t the perfect soldier. I was all like ‘dude were you really relying on a ten-year-old for backup?’ And he was a shit father as well as a shit hunter, he couldn’t parent or kill a demon. I mean, come on it was pathetic.”

He paused watching the agent mentally fumble on the information he just revealed, “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you Dean.” She said struggling to keep the motherly face on.

“Damn straight,” Dean agreed, “ain’t it lucky for you that I know that and don’t need some agent who they only sent in because she looks a little like my mom to tell me my father was a narcissistic asshole?”

Silence. ‘JJ’ looked nothing short of shocked. Less shocked than Prentiss, but that wasn’t saying much. Dean leaned back in his chair as far as the cuffs would allow in satisfaction. Just then the door opened revealing…Gabriel?

Apparently, Dean was a lot smarter than they thought. As JJ sat there, utterly confused on how Dean had seen through her act. He was also scarily self-aware and had a deep hatred of his father. His personality went against everything they knew about how to profile an unsub.

The door opened, JJ let out a sigh of relief thinking it was Hotch or Rossi coming to take over. Instead, a short man with shoulder-length golden brown hair in a suit strode into the room.

“Hate to interrupt beautiful but I need a moment with my client here.” He said.

Dean hadn’t asked for a lawyer, had he? When she glanced over Dean looked just as confused as her. “I’m sorry, your client?”

“Yup!” he replied popping the ‘p’, “I’m his lawyer. Isn’t that right Deano?”

Dean tried and failed to wipe the look of confusion of his face before choking out, “Yep, he’s my lawyer.”

“Well, you heard the man blondie. A moment please.”

She nodded and left the room.

“Who is that?” She asked.

“That,” Hotch said looking a cross between tired and irritated, “is Gabriel Smith. He has documents proving he is Dean’s lawyer.”

‘Oh, come on!” Prentiss objected, “You can’t possibly believe that, he’s unprofessional as hell. He flirted with you and JJ. There’s no way he’s a lawyer!”

“I know, most likely he is another cult member sent to get Dean back when they didn’t hear from him.”

“You think there are more cult members?” Rossi asked.

“With how manipulative Dean is, it is a possibility.” Morgan said

“We should play along for now; it might provide us with more information.” Hotch said, “Garcia, go through Mr Smith’s paperwork so that we can prove it’s fake.”

“Consider it done!” Chirped Garcia, who was regaining some of her charm now that she’d had several cups of coffee.

“Good. Morgan, I want you to go and proceed with a standard interrogation. Dean is obviously smart enough to see through tactics, he might respond better to professionalism.”

When Morgan walked into the room Dean and Smith immediately stopped what looked like quite a heated conversation. Mr Smith turned towards him, “What’s you name agent?”

“Agent Morgan.”

“Well Agent Morgan, can you explain to me on what grounds you are keeping my client here?”

Did he seriously just ask on what grounds? “He murdered at least ten people.” Morgan said trying his best to remain professional.

“Uh. Only ten?” Smith asked sounding bored.

“Yes.” Morgan gritted out, “Your client decapitated at minimum ten innocent people.”

“Like you said they were decapitated. Its not like they would have suffered.” He shrugged.

“So you admit that your client is guilty?”

“I said that they were decapitated painlessly. I never said my client did the decapitation.”

Morgan was seething, “We have a police officer that witnessed him decapitate one of the victims.”

“Mm. Did the officer actually see him do it or did they just tell you that they saw it? Because this sounds like a case of he said, she said to me.”

Dean tried to speak up but Smith silenced him with a wave of his hand, “Quiet Deano the adults are talking.”

Morgan was well and truly over this, “Mr Smith, there isn’t a jury in the world that wouldn’t convict him. Dean would be facing a death penalty if this was another state, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand the gravity as you’re not even a real lawyer!”

He gasped, mock offended, “Agent Morgan, I’m hurt. But seriously though,” he fixed Morgan with a cold smile that unexplainably terrified him before leaning in close and whispering, “Prove it.”

“What do you mean everything checks out!”

“I’m sorry handsome, but I’m telling you everything about him is 100% not dodgy. I even called people he worked on cases with and aside from sounding a little strained, they all confirmed his story.” Garcia said.

“Well, what do we now?” Morgan sighed.

“Hope one of the remaining guys has enough evidence to hit them all with a conviction that’ll stick.” Rossi said tiredly.

Chapter Text

The BAU were once again assembled around the round table discussing how they should proceed with the interrogations, except they were more sleep-deprived and more confused than an angel in a brothel.

“Well, he’s obviously more self-aware than we realised,” sighed Prentiss.

“How are we meant to go forward with this Hotch?” Asked Rossi, “Between Dean messing with, his ‘lawyer’ and his husband with the thousand-yard-stare it’s a fair assumption that his brother will be the same.”

“What about the kid without any connection to the Winchesters? He might be new to the cult; Besides, we don’t even know if he did or witnessed the murders, the officers found him outside without any blood on him, we could stand a chance of getting him to turn on Dean.”

“That’s a good plan, Morgan. But we can’t let our guard down with him. He’s in the inner circle of the cult for a reason, I wouldn’t be surprised if he is as smart or smarter than Dean. Dean probably taught him how to handle law enforcement, so we need to proceed under the assumption that he knows any tactic we are trying to use. We should find someone he may be able to see himself in.”

“So, you’re saying we need a white male, twenties to thirties with a superior intellect?” Asked Prentiss with a smirk on her face, she was still mad about Dean making her look stupid.

Reid looked up, confused, “Why is everyone looking at me?”

Reid was standing outside the interrogation room, trying to hide all traces of nervousness from his body. He couldn’t afford for his body language to give him away, if this guy was as smart as they thought he was he would see through him immediately.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and walked into the room. In one of his hands he held a thick stack of files in one hand in case he was just an impressionable young man who had been drawn into the cult by Dean’s charisma and would reveal information after seeing the gory atrocities committed by him.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m here to ask you a few questions. Could you tell me your name?”

The man’s face suddenly broke into a wide, child-like smile, “My name’s Jack!”

His innocence and friendliness certainly pointed to new cult member but after witnessing how convincing Dean’s act was, Reid certainly couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

“Your last name?”

“Kline.” Jack chirped, seemingly undeterred by Reid’s serious expression.

Reid placed the crime scene photo from one of the St Louis murders in front him and was pleased to see a look of genuine sadness on Jack’s face. He changed his tone to soft and sympathetic, “Jack, do you know who murdered that girl?”

“No.”

“Jack, I know you might think that Dean is a good person who helps people but he killed this innocent girl.”

“No.”

“She had friends and a family, she was a kid same as you and she deserved to have a good life and Dean took that away from her.”

“No.”

“Jack, I know it might be hard to believe because Dean might be a really nice guy when he’s around you but –”

“No he didn’t. It was a shape shifter.” Instead of taking on a defensive tone, Jack’s face had brightened again, “It’s okay that you messed it up though, it’s super hard to spot one, there eyes glow white in cameras if that helps.”

Reid sighed, apparently Jack was in deeper than he thought, “Jack,” he started gently, “It’s not your fault you got involved in this, you’re not in trouble. 21% of people have some experience with cults, it’s not surprising that you got caught up in this.”

“That’s… interesting.” Jack said.

“What?” Reid asked confusedly.

“21% of people have some experience with cults. I didn’t know it was that much.” Jack lent forward before continuing excitedly, “Do you know any other statistics about cults?”

Reid was internally relating to how Prentiss felt in the interrogation with Dean, he was also mildly upset that the only person who found his statistics interesting was a member of a murder-cult run by a psychotic serial killer. But surely no one would get mad at him if he shared a few more statistics with Jack? He had asked and wasn’t that was he was meant to be doing? ‘Establishing trust’, yes that was why he was going to share every statistic imaginable and not because no one his team liked them.

“I do actually. Hey, did you know that an average cult membership lasts nine years?”

Reid continued on his spiel listing every single statistic he’d ever read about cults while Jack asked questions with wide-eyed enthusiasm. Eventually when he was telling Jack about another cult leader he’d read about in a text he remembered that he was actually meant to get information out of him instead of rattling of statistics.

“Sorry Jack, I don’t have any more.” Reid apologized.

“Really?” Jack looked at him with the saddest puppy-dog eyes that Reid had ever seen before brightening once again, “It’s okay. I really liked hearing them though!”

Between Jacks’ optimism and wide-eyed naivety, Reid thought to himself, it was no wonder that he had gotten caught up with someone as charismatic as Dean Winchester.

“Jack, do you think you could tell me a bit about what it’s like living with Sam and Dean?”

The question was purposefully non-biased, if Jack thought Reid was just interested in his life he would tell him more rather than becoming defensive, like he had earlier when Reid had showed him the photos.

“Sure!” Jack beamed before beginning to talk at a speed that would rival Reid. Jack began to talk about his life at what he called ‘the bunker’. Apparently, there were other people there to that helped them out on ‘hunts’, Jack only gave him first names though and prying would be counterproductive. The people would apparently decipher code, hack into places and one of them was apparently a witch called Rowena, which set off all kinds of alarms in Reid’s head. Why would Dean, a mission-based killer, willingly keep around a member of what he viewed as a dangerous enemy.
All things considered, the interrogation was going well. Almost too well. Jack had begun to talk about his family which apparently consisted of his two dads; DEAN and CASTIEL. By the time Reid had processed this horrifying new piece of information Jack had moved on to talking about his sister, Claire.

“Jack, did you just say your dads are Castiel and Dean Winchester.” Reid asked desperately hoping he had heard wrong.

“Yeah! They’re the best dads ever. Dean even let me go on this hunt with him even though Cas was worried.” He smiled brightly.

“Jack,” Reid began slowly, realising that in his attempt to stay one step ahead of Jack, he had forgotten to ask the one question that would have determined how long Jack had been with them, “how long have you known the Winchesters?”

“My whole life.” Jack’s head was tilted slightly to the side, similar to what they had seen Castiel do when he was confused by a question.

Reid had left the room with the excuse of needing to update Jack’s file. The minute he walked up to the roundtable it exploded with questions.

“How the hell –”

“Why –”

“...lying or –”

“QUIET.” Shouted Hotch, the chatter died almost instantly. “One at a time.”

“This kid, has been with Dean his whole life and no one has picked up on it?” Asked Morgan disbelieving.

“There’s no way that kid is Dean’s or Novak’s. He was innocent, naïve. Not a hint of paranoia or an ulterior motive.” Prentiss said.

“Babygirl, did you find anyone with the name Jack Kline?” Morgan asked.

“No, well no one that fits his description because I’m pretty sure he’s not a forty-five-year-old man with two kids.” Said Garcia.

“It’s surprising he gave us that much information, poor kid never even got a chance at normal life.” JJ said sadly.

“It sounded like James tried to keep him safe by not letting him go on hunts.” Reid added.

“So, we’ve got a brainwashed kid, who would probably never accept our point of view because he was raised by a psychopath, what are we meant to do?” Rossi asked sarcastically.

“Reid, go back in. Jack seems to trust you, try to get him to tell you more about his family. We need to get an idea of Deans psychopathology.” Hotch said.

“You’re back!” Jack said excitedly.

“I am. Sorry to keep you waiting Jack.” Reid said softly.

“Oh. It’s okay.”

“Jack, do you think you could tell me a little bit more about Dean?”

“Dean is the best. He’s really nice to me and he even showed me how to drive his car. He hates letting people drive his car. He’s really good at helping people too!”

“Wow Jack, he’s sounds amazing!”

“He is.” Jack beamed, “I was worried you wouldn’t think so because one of your friends said he was a psychopath and Dean definitely isn’t.”

“Jack…” Reid started slowly, “How do you know my friend said that?”

Jack gasped, “Oh. I wasn’t meant to say that.”

“He bugged the room?!” Prentiss yelled.

“I-I never said he ‘bugged’ the room,” Reid stammered, “He just knew…exactly what Rossi said.”

“Wait, Jack said they had someone named Charlie who handled the tech for ‘hunts’, they could have bugged the place.” JJ theorized.

“How would they have gotten in here in the first place? Do you think they could be a mole?” Asked Morgan.

“It would explain how they managed to break out of FBI custody last time.” Hotch sighed, “Garcia, I need you to check the FBI database for agents with suspicious files.”

“I will get to it.” She declared.

An agent walked into the room looking incredibly tired and confused, “Sorry to interrupt,’ She sighed, “but this young woman claims you’ve wrongly arrested her brother.”

A young woman with blonde hair was standing in the bullpen beside a short man in a black suit and a tall red-headed woman. This day was about to get a whole lot worse.

Chapter Text

The entire BAU looked at the group with mounting horror particularly Morgan, who had unexplainably managed to walk into every desk and wall since interacting with Gabriel. The agent that had delivered the news had taken their horrified silence as the confirmation to let the group into the room.

The blonde girl had strode forward with a very obvious ‘I-can-and-will-kill-you-if-you-piss-me-off’ look, “My name is Claire Novak. I am not dead or being forced into culty shit.”

Claire had just finished up a wendigo hunt with Kaia, who she had dropped off at Jody’s before heading to the bunker to ask Sam if he had any spare spell ingredients, which knowing how much of an overprepared nerd he was, he probably did.

Claire unlocked the bunker door and walked down the stairs into a suspiciously empty bunker. Dean had told her that they were going on a vamp hunt in Virginia, but they should have been back by at least yesterday for a cut-and-dry case like this. One of the Claire’s many reasons for making fun of Dean was his instance on an extreme amount of check-ins on every hunt they went on whether it was a demon or a ghost. And aside from the text Claire had gotten saying that they had arrive in Quantico accompanied by a photo of Dean and Castiel both holding takeaway coffees. Dean was grinning stupidly at the camera while Castiel was looking confusedly at Dean, very obviously not clear on the concept of a ‘selfie’, there was nothing. No conformation about a hunt well done or even a text saying someone was dead or in the hospital. Claire even tried all their phones repeatedly and was greeted with no response. Something had definitely gone wrong.

Just as Claire was beginning to dial Castiel’s phone for a fifth time a short man in a black suit appeared. Which Claire immediately responded to by pulling out her gun and shooting the man square in the face.
“Ow! Now that was rude. I’m a demon it’s not like bullets can hurt me anyway.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Claire hissed reaching for her holy water.

“Wait, wait! I’m Crowley, surely moose or squirrel have mentioned me? You know, king of hell? Ringing any bells?”

“I know who you are, asshole. Why are you here?” She said, fingers still clutching an open flask of holy water.

“Well, feathers owes me a favour. I figured now is a good a time as any to collect.” Crowley drawled.

“You know, you’d have to be a pretty shit king of hell to need help from an angel.” Claire smirked.

“Laugh it up little girl. I only need feathers to remove a curse that some demonic imbeciles put on me in Enochian.”

“Oh, a curse! Do tell. And, uh remind me again why you couldn’t have just teleported directly to Cas?”

Crowley went red and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” Claire said, smile growing wider by the minute.

“I said it suppresses demonic energy.” Crowley snapped.

“Ha! Wow that is gold!” She burst out laughing, “So you, a demon, has a curse that is making you more killable by the minute and can only be removed by an angel? That’s hilarious.”

“Oh, laugh it up all you want. I just need to know where feathers has flown off to.” He snarled.

“Good luck with that. Him, Dean and the others went on a couple days ago. Haven’t heard anything since, so your guess is as good as mine dipshit.”

Crowley looked like he was going to murder someone, which Claire found infinitely funnier now that she knew she could probably kill him without a demon knife.

Just as Crowley opened his mouth to say something, the bunker door opened once again revealing the familiar figure of a tall, red-headed witch.

“Fergus? What are you doing here?” Rowena asked.

“I was just chatting with squirrel the second over here. Nothing to worry about.” Crowley said.

“Hey Rowena?” Asked Claire keeping her tone innocent, “Did Crowley tell you the curse that got put on him? You know, the one that only an angel can remove and is stopping him from using his demonic powers?”

“You what?” Rowena shrieked.

“It’s nothing Mother, really.” Crowley sighed.

“Nothing? Nothing!” She spun around to face Claire, “Where has that damned angel flown off to?”

Claire sat down and pulled out her laptop to begin checking hospital and police station records,
“Well according to the Quantico police database, they arrested four individuals matching the dumbasses descriptions and they transferred them over too… the FBI headquarters. Fuck!” She yelled, “How the hell are we meant to bust them out of there while your useless?”

“I’m flattered, really.” Crowley said sarcastically.

“You know,” Rowena said slowly, “there are other ways to get people out of places that don’t involve magic.”

“Are you,” scoffed Claire, “Offering to help rescue Castiel?”

“Oh, please dearie. Of course not! I’m simply suggesting that between your acting skills and my convincing personality we can get my son back to his full power. It wouldn’t be very good for my reputation if my son lost his throne over something as mundane as an Enochian curse now, would it?”

Claire paused for a moment considering the offer, “Alright, I’m in. What’s the plan?”

Chapter Text

“My name is Claire Novak. I am not dead or being forced into culty shit.”

The FBI agents were standing around the table in the meeting room in varying stages of horror. Claire noted that the Italian had obviously tried to have a conversation with Cas judging by the look of utter confusion on his face.

“Please excuse the young lassies manners, this is an,” Rowena paused and sent surprisingly convincing look of pity towards Claire, “incredibly difficult time for her.”

“Who are you?” The agent, Morgan, apparently according to his ID badge, asked bluntly. He was slumped in one of the chairs surrounding the round table looking about five seconds away from punching a hole in the wall.

Claire almost answered for them before remembering that a traumatized teenager wouldn’t give two shits about which unit the ‘FBI agents’ were from.

Crowley stepped forward showing the agents his fake badge and credentials, “Hello boys, I’m agent Tanner and this is my partner, agent Lela. We’re from Intelligence, we’ve been working the Winchester case for the last decade, this case is our jurisdiction.”

The brown-haired agent seemed to break out of her thoughts and was eyeing Crowley and Rowena suspiciously, “I wasn’t aware that intelligence was pursuing a case against the Winchesters. Especially since they were thought to be dead until yesterday.”
It was sheer luck that Claire had thought to tell Rowena what to do in this situation otherwise it would not have ended well judging by the blank look on Crowley’s face.

“The Winchesters may have been thought dead, but they have many associates. It would be simply irresponsible of us to drop our investigation.” Rowena exclaimed, placing a hand on her chest as if scandalized.

Claire had to hand it to her, Rowena could really act when she felt like it.

“Their story checks out, sir.” Garcia said, looking up from her laptop.

“Thank you, Garcia. I apologise, it has been a…difficult day for us. I’m agent Hotchner, these are agents Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Reid and Jareau. My agents have already started the interviews with the Winchesters and their associates. We’re not going to hand over the case.”

“Might I suggest a deal?” Asked Crowley, “Our case requires C-James Novak’s testimony to work. We just need an interview and then we’ll be on our way.”

“It’s a deal. Me and my agents will work alongside you.” Hotch said, shaking Crowley’s hand.

Claire rolled her eyes at Crowley’s obvious smugness at the ‘deal’. Typical crossroads demon.

“If I may ask agents, we’ve already attempted to interview him. Novak is to deep into the Winchester’s cult to provide any clear evidence How do you plan on getting information from him?” Agent Reid asked.

“After Claire Novak escaped the Winchesters, she was put into witness protection. She has a lot of information about the cult and James Novak.” Rowena said.

Claire thought she slightly overselling it but given how difficult it was to get a straight answer out of Cas the BAU was probably desperate enough for information to believe them.

“Claire has information about the cult?” Agent Morgan asked, sounding like he was beginning to form a plan.

Huh. Claire thought it would be easy but not THIS easy.

“Yes. She was worried about her brother, Jack, being left alone in the cult with those horrible Winchesters, the poor boy.” Rowena said, wiping a fake tear from her eye.

“Claire?” Rossi asked, “Would you be willing to go in and ask your father some questions? It could get us the information we need to put the Winchesters away permanently.”

And there it was. Everything was going according to plan, no thanks to Crowley’s shitty acting. Now it was her time to shine. “Oh yeah? Permanently, huh? Because that worked so well the last four times.”

“Claire,” Prentiss said softly, putting on a I’m-talking-to-a-traumatized-child voice that Claire had the pleasure of hearing one too many times, “We understand that that is scary for you. We want to help you and your brother, and your father hasn’t been cooperative with us, he might be more open with you. I know you must care deeply for your brother to come here; we can get him reduced charges and protection from the Winchesters if you just ask your father a few questions. We will be watching you the whole time to make sure your safe.”

Claire rearranged her face into an expression of childish hopefulness, “You could really get him away from them?”

“We can.” Prentiss said.

Claire pretended to think the offer over before replying, “Fine. I’ll do it if it means my brother will be safe.”

Claire was led into the interrogation room by Agent Prentiss who shut the door behind her. She sat down in the chair opposite Cas trying to maintain the ‘nervous, resentful teen’ façade. The nervous part was easy to pull off. The only acting she had seen Cas do was when he pretended to be an FBI agent on a case and had nearly got them both arrested because of how suspicious he was being.

“Hi.” Claire said bluntly.

Castiel tilted his head looking incredibly confused, “Claire? What are doing here?”

“I wanted to see you again, Dad. The Winchesters treat you badly why do you still hang around with them? Why don’t you come home? I just want us to be a family again.” Claire reached forward to grasp Castiel’s cuffed hands with hers so she could slip him the lockpick.

Cas met her eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod, “I am not your father Claire, I never have been.” Castiel said with a blank stare pulling his hands way from hers.

Claire had never been more grateful that she taught herself how to fake cry last year to guilt-trip Castiel. She left the room in tears and walked into the observation room now audibly sobbing. As the agents began to crowd and comfort her, Claire watched as Cas slipped out of the cuffs and was escorted swiftly past by Rowena.

Claire pretended to calm down and waited for the next stage of the plan to commence which was for Crowley to come and pretend to take her for a glass of water, exit the building via the fire escape and drive off. They would then wait until Cas’s mojo recharged and rescue the others.

Unfortunately for her, she had forgotten that two major people in this plan were selfish narcissists.

“Novak’s gone!” Exclaimed Reid.

“So are the agents.” Said JJ, walking back into the room.

Wait a minute. Agents? Wasn’t Crowley meant to…? That sonofabitch.

Claire stood up dropping the traumatized teen act, “CROWLEY! Crowley you impotent son of a bitch!” She screamed, ignoring the confused looks from the agents, "WE HAD A DEAL YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

Chapter Text

And just as Morgan thought they were finally getting somewhere; they were inexplicably catapulted back to square one. They were doing well! Hell, they had a witness. One with information AND was willing to help. That was rare, even on normal cases.

Claire had gone into interview James Novak and sure, she got upset and ran out of the room. But for a young witness, who’s only remaining family member just told her he wasn’t her father, the reaction was understandable. They had just gotten her to calm down and he had stepped forward, prepared to encourage her to go back in, when JJ and Reid had noticed James Novak’s disappearance and the absence Agents Lela and Tanner.

Claire had suddenly stood up, the nervous, slightly defiant expression sliding of her face, being replaced with a look that was homicidal to say the least and had begun screaming about someone named Crowley. After her initial outburst, Claire seemed to snap out of it and turned to see the stunned agents staring in shock before softly muttering “Fuck”. While all of them were standing in shock, curious as to who the hell Crowley was, she bolted.

The rest of the BAU all simultaneously turned to Morgan expectantly.

“Oh, come on! Really?” He threw his hands in the air. At the unwavering stare from the other agents, Morgan turned and ran after her. Claire, as it turned out, was surprisingly fast for a nineteen-year-old.
Morgan would never admit it but if the fire escape Claire had been planning on using to escape hadn’t been boarded shut for construction, she would have successfully gotten out of the FBI headquarters in less than two minutes.

They eventually successfully got Claire cuffed to a table in the interrogation room after several additional foiled escape attempts and enough confiscated lockpicks to fill a small car. Morgan and Hotch had gone into interview while Reid and Rossi had gone to interview Sam Winchester in case Claire didn’t have as much information as she claimed.

“Claire, we know how difficult this must be for you…” Morgan started.

“What’s difficult is looking at the shirt you’re wearing. Was Walmart having a buy-one-get-one-free sale or what?” Claire smirked.

Morgan nearly flushed pink with embarrassment before mentally remining himself that a 6-foot-tall FBI agent shouldn’t be upset when a nineteen-year-old girl made fun of his shirt. Besides, Prentiss had told him this morning that his shirt looked nice; she wouldn’t lie to him about that. Would she? He shook himself out his thoughts.

“We’re not here to talk about me.” Morgan replied with a tone of forced calm.

Claire ignored him and continued to shield her eyes with her hand, “Can I get another fed? I literally want to pour bleach directly into my eye sockets.”

“Claire, what can you tell us about the two agents that came in here with you?” Hotch asked, fixing her with a fraction of his usual glare.

Morgan sighed with relief, thank god for Hotch’s bluntness.

Claire, however, didn’t seem fazed, “I can tell you that they’re both self-obsessed assholes, who still can’t get through their thick skulls what a FAIR DEAL IS! She said practically screaming the last part, as if she expected the two fake agents to somehow hear her.

“What kind of deal did you make with them?” Hotch questioned.

“None of your fucking business Bert.” Claire replied without missing a beat.

Morgan gave a small snort of laughter, which he quickly turned into a cough at the sight of Hotch’s death glare. Now that he thought about it, the resemblances between Hotch and the Muppet were uncanny.

“Claire, you said that you wanted to help your brother, and I don’t think you were lying about that. It must have been so difficult having your father not recognise you and have had a hard time trying to keep them safe from the Winchesters with how dangerous they can be.” Morgan said in a genuinely sympathetic tone, “You were just trying to protect your family the only way you could. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Claire buried her face in her hands. Morgan had lent forward to comfort her, thinking that the emotions had finally gotten to her when he heard the sound of small chuckles that eventually progressed into full-blown laughter as she lifted her head.

“Did-did you just refer to the Winchesters as dangerous?” She gasped, attempting to catch her breath.

“They decapitated thirty-five people with machetes.” Hotch said, stone-faced.

“Only thirty-five? Fucking amateur numbers, I kill twice that much, solo, in a weekend. And the Winchesters dangerous? Bitch please,” Claire scoffed, “Have you even met them? Dean cried-and-refused-to-speak-to-anyone-for-forty-two-hours-after-watching-the-titanic Winchester or Sam somehow-managed-to-shoot-himself-in-the-leg-twice-during target-practice-then-blamed-it-on-the-wall Winchester?”

Morgan’s patience had far past worn thin and he was futilely trying to remind himself that it was immature to get his feelings hurt by a nineteen-year-old. “Claire, just because the Winchesters might have treated you nicely doesn’t mean that they are good people. They don’t care about your wellbeing or your father’s.” He said.

“You know it would be incredibly nice if you passed that memo on to Dean. Who knows? It might stop him being such an overbearing, overprotective asshole.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“I know it might be hard to believe, Claire. But they’ve killed people. Not monsters. People.” Hotch said seriously.

“Yeah, no shit sherlock! They literally murdered like twelve very-human douchebags in front of me when I was seventeen. Your interrogation techniques ain’t that subtle, you don’t need to use my name every time you ask me a question. By the way, the whole song-and-dance routine you put on for ‘traumatised teens’ doesn’t do shit. Thought I should let you know to stop the next kid in here doesn’t have the strong urge to repeatedly bash their head into the table.”

Morgan opened his mouth again only to be immediately cut off by Claire, “Nuh uh, ugly shirt. I’m not listening to any more of that psychobabble bullshit.” She paused and tilted her head to the side as if she was listening for something, looking eerily like her father. “I want a lawyer.”

Chapter Text

Oblivious to the current peril the rest of the team was in after they begrudgingly went to inform Mr Smith that they had a teenage girl insisting that she have him as her lawyer, Reid and Rossi went to interview Sam Winchester.

Their profile had him down as the submissive out of the duo, with his older brother, Dean, calling the shots. Reid had noted that Sam at least attempted to have a normal life, despite being raised into his father’s lifestyle. He’d managed to go to Stanford, get a girlfriend and a large group of friends before leaving on a ‘road trip’ with his brother after his girlfriend died in a fire at their apartment, supposedly caused by a gas leak. However, it was far too similar to the incident in which Mary Winchester was killed to write it off entirely.

Reid had suggested that Rossi go in first to try to make a deal with Sam for information. While he highly doubted that this would work, it would make him overestimate the agents and be more likely to reveal information by accident or for the sole purpose of toying with them.

He watched Rossi enter the room through the one-way mirror. He sat down opposite Sam before extending his hand.

“Hello, Sam. I’m Dave, I’m here to interview you about the murders that happened this morning.”

Sam stayed silent, making no move to reach towards Rossi’s outstretched hand. Rossi faltered for a second before continuing,

“Now, I don’t think you wanted any part in this, you just went along with what your brother told you. I understand, if you just answer these questions as honestly as you can, I’ll let the DA know you cooperated and get you a reduced sentence.”

There was still no reaction from Sam, who didn’t so much as glance upwards during Rossi’s spiel.

“Sam, I know it might be difficult, but this is your best option. Refusing to listen is only hurting yourself, Sam. Sam?” Rossi said, waving a hand in front of Sam’s face, eventually catching his attention.

He looked up at Rossi seemingly confused before beginning to rapidly sign in perfect sign language.

'Sorry, I lost my hearing aids while I was being arrested. I cannot hear a word you are saying.'

“Oh, uh… I apologise. I’m not fluent in sign language. I’ll, um, ask for a translator, but it might take a few hours.”

Reid, who prided himself on his observation skills being much sharper than the average person/FBI agent, took this moment to stroll into the interrogation room, shutting the door behind him, “You’re not deaf. You looked up briefly when I tapped on the door before coming in.”

Sam quickly dropped the act, smilingly amusedly at Rossi’s badly hidden look of confusion, “I see you’re less gullible than your partner, agent.”

“It’s Doctor actually.” Reid said coldly.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now be honest with me, did you actually think the whole give-us-information-and-we’ll-reduce-your-sentence spiel would work?”

Reid motioned to Rossi to leave the room and sat down, “Unlike some, I see the value in not underestimating my opposition. You also knew that that argument wouldn’t hold up for long so why use it?”

“You’re only asking that question because you’ve already interviewed Dean and Cas and know that they aren’t deaf so you’re hoping that I’ll reveal a significant other or friend that you can try to track down.” He said.

“You’d be surprised how often that tactic works and as you mentioned significant other first without prompting, I’m assuming that’s who you learnt sign language from.” Reid said, noticing the flicker of recognition on Sam’s face.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re smart agent?”

“All the time.” Reid answered, without hesitation, “What I want to know is why a man with a full Stanford scholarship and several job offers at high-earning law firms, would leave it all to go on a murder spree with their older brother. The other agents think it was because you wanted to make your father happy, but I think its more than that. So, what was it?”

“I often find people’s ability to ignore the evidence staring them in the face in favour of their personal beliefs astounding.” Sam said still not breaking eye contact with him.

“You mean the beliefs that you told yourself when your brother murdered your girlfriend? The beliefs that your father told himself after he killed his wife in a psychotic frenzy? The beliefs that you continued to tell yourself as you helped your brother murder thousands of innocent people?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and his posture tensed as his cool, collected façade looked seconds away from shattering, just a little longer and Sam would undoubtedly reveal far more information than he wanted to in a fit of rage.

“Or maybe your girlfriend found out just how much of a sociopath you are?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam said, voice low.

“Don’t I?” Reid said cooly, leaning forward, “She probably found out about all the people you murdered before coming to Stanford, she probably tried to go to the police before you slit her stomach with a knife and set her on fire!”

“I’m warning you agent,” Sam said, his voice rising, “one more fucking word about Jess and I swear I’ll - ”

Sam was cut off by several loud bangs and screams coming form down the hall, Reid unholstered his gun and took off towards the sound, forgetting to lock the door to the room containing the pissed off serial killer with an uncanny ability to pick handcuff locks.

After what felt like an eternity Reid (closely followed by Sam) arrived at the source of the scream only to find Dean Winchester with a knife in hand and Gabriel Smith standing over three bodies with burnt-out eye sockets and the other members in of the team in various stages of disbelief.

Dean dropped the knife at the sight of Reid’s gun, “Uh, I can explain?”

Chapter Text

Earlier that day…
“Mr Smith, we can’t just let your client go without charges. I told you before there are several witnesses to the massacre that he committed.” Morgan gritted out.

It had been a long day and he was functioning off a dozen coffees and a burning desire to shoot Dean Winchester and his lawyer, Gabriel ‘Prove-It’ Smith.

“Witnesses, shmitnesses.” Mr Smith said carelessly, now eating a full-sized Snickers bar that he had seemingly pulled from thin air.

“Mr Smith, it is in your client’s best interest if you gave us something to work with. It won’t make any difference if you’re the best lawyer in the world. We have video evidence of your client–”

“Eh. Do you though?” Gabriel smirked.

“What the hell did you do to the footage!?” Morgan yelled, quickly losing the small bit calmness he’d managed to retain.

Meanwhile outside the room, Garcia was frantically trying to find the evidence that gave them a chance of putting Dean away in prison for good, only to realise that it had been inexplicably wiped from every server and hard drive in less than a second.

“We know you’re orchestrating this Smith.” Morgan said.

“Who me?” He in a scandalized tone placed a hand on his chest as if greatly offend, “How dare you? I’ll have you know I am a highly experienced lawyer!”

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN A REAL LAWYER, YOU SMARMY PIECE OF SH-”

He cut himself off as the door was opened, revealing several suited agents, “Our apologies for interrupting…this, but Mr Winchester needs to come with us.”

The first thing Dean noticed about the new agents was the telltale subtle smell of sulphur that hung around them. If the Henrickson incident taught him anything, it was that demons were weirdly talented at infiltrating buildings filled with law enforcement.

“Are ya sure you want to do this, guys? I can guarantee that this won’t work out for you folks.” He said with a sly grin on his face, Gabriel had clearly also clued into the demons’ plan. Although it had quickly become clear that the demons remained utterly clueless, as they were still standing there expectantly, instead of hightailing it back to hell in fear of the archangel who had survived Lucifer himself.

“I wouldn’t be so sure Mr Smith.” another agent spoke up, handing Agent Hotchner a single document.

By the surprised slight widening of the Hotch’s eyes, the demons had probably made some deals with a couple lawyers.

“They’re right, they have jurisdiction over this.” He admitted wearily after examining the document.

“How is that possible? You shouldn’t be allowed to just swan in and move unsubs where you see fit.” The terrible flirter of an agent from earlier asked in disbelief, quickly snatching the document and began furiously reading.

“We are when Mr Winchester has a past history of breaking out of custody and murdering his arresting officers.” The third demon shot him an almost imperceptible smirk after saying the last part.

Oh, those fuckers. Dean had managed to unpick his handcuffs with a lose screw from the table and was five seconds away from launching himself at them before Gabriel spoke up once again, “You know, I don’t think it was possible for you guys to get anymore stupid. You seriously thought that you could stroll in here with some document which you clearly got from some dumbass of a lawyer you’ve got on your payroll and get it past someone like me. I swear you demons get dumber every year.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.

The agents continued to look utterly clueless as the front demons’ smile sharpened as her eyes flickered to pitch black, “Well, would you look at that, two hunters for the price of one.”
Morgan let out a cry of surprise, reaching for his gun as the other agents fumbled for theirs.

Gabriel eyes narrowed as his smirk widened, bordering on deranged, “Oh sweetheart, you offend me. It’s pronounced Archangel.”

The shadow of his wings flared across the walls as he placed his hand over the demon’s head, a piecing scream echoed through the room as fluorescent orange light poured out of the demon, before falling to the floor, eyes blackened and smoking.

The remaining demons froze before lunging towards them, Dean caught the first one in the stomach with the angel blade Gabriel had slipped him, before moving to attack the others. Gabriel had moved quickly to smite the oncoming demons.

Between the two of them (and the laughable fighting abilities of the demons), they made quick work of the demons. Just as Dean pulled the knife out of the last demon, he heard footsteps and looked up to see the thin agent from earlier standing in front of him with his gun drawn, looking horrified at the scene before him.

Dean raised his hands, as Gabriel looked at the agent with mild amusement. He tried to think of something that he could say to reassure the agent who was now taking in the look of horror on his colleagues faces. Sam had always been the one who was good at defusing situations, all he had to do was channel his inner Sam and say something reassuring and calming, something that made him sound not guilty, something like, “Uh, I can explain?”. Damnit.

Chapter Text

This day would probably go down as the most confusing day in all BAU history which was saying something given all the stuff they had witnessed; however, it is supremely hard to outdo a Winchester when it comes to weird, nonsensical shitfuckery.

Dean had his hands in the air with what he obviously thought was a passive, calming expression but had only succeeded in coming off as extremely guilty. Gabriel was twirling a lollipop in his mouth while regarding the situation with silent glee.

Reid had his gun focused on Dean while looking deeply puzzled as to how five people can get their eyes completely burned out of their sockets in under a minute. Rossi had just arrived behind Reid and was obviously trying to cover up his confusion with a stern face.

Morgan hadn’t even made a move to grab his gun and was instead staring at Gabriel with a mixture of fear and awe. Prentiss had her weapon levelled at the serial killer. Because that’s what he was. A mass-murdering, psychopathic, misogynistic cultist. Because he was definitely one hundred percent a serial killer. He couldn’t possibly be telling the truth, that would be impossible.

Hotch’s aim was far steadier than Prentiss’s. He had assumed that the display they had just witnessed had to be the product of some kind of hallucinogen. With the wild cocktails of things he had seen unsubs have theirs victims inject or inhale, it didn’t overly surprise him. He just had focus on getting Dean, Gabriel and the figure hiding behind the wall which he deduced was Sam Winchester just off his height.

Muscle memory was the only thing that kept JJ holding her gun in front of her. She hadn’t registered anything that happened after Gabriel had somehow burnt the eyes out of the ‘agent’ with his bare hands. Garcia was making her way down to the team to give them the news that Claire had gone missing from the holding cell.

Morgan was the first to speak, “What the hell was that?” He breathed.

Gabriel took the lollipop out of his mouth, “An archangel.” He said bluntly shooting Morgan a manic grin, clearly glad at getting another chance to annoy the agent.

“Thanks for the help Gabriel.” Dean muttered sarcastically.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “How about a ‘thank you for saving me from the scary demons Gabriel, you’re the best’? Geez, you’re ungrateful.”

“Put your hands in the air, Smith. You’re under arrest.” Hotch said.

“Well, well, well, looks like someone’s in denial.” He said flashing another wide grin.

“Woah, woah, how about we all calm down.” JJ said finally snapping out of her shock, stepping between Hotch and Gabriel.

“JJ, what are you doing?” Hotch asked confusedly.

Reid moved forward to try to pull her away from in front of Dean and Gabriel, but she wrenched her arm away, “You all saw what that was, well, not Rossi and Reid, but the rest of you saw that right?”
“They’re using some type of hallucinogen to get us to believe their delusions, don’t fall for it.” Hotch said.

Morgan looked up at that, “If it was a hallucinogen, wouldn’t it have affected us all differently? Because I’m pretty sure we all saw the same thing.”

Rossi and Reid looked at each other, perplexed. It was strange to see any agent but especially Hotch suffering from what looked to be extreme denial and JJ and Morgan being so deeply convinced about something without even considering other options.

“Alright can one of you please explain what the hell is going on?” Rossi sighed, resisting the strong urge to facepalm as it would mean taking his eyes off the agents and unsubs, although he wasn’t sure which required supervision more.

There was a cacophony of noise as the agents shouted out explanations overtop of one another.

“Black eyes –”

“Started glowing –”

“GIANT wings –”

“Some kind of –”

“Enough!” Shouted Rossi, “One at a time. Hotch?”

“We were interrogating Dean when some agents I’d never even seen before came over and claimed that they had jurisdiction to take Dean to a more ‘secure holding facility’”

“More cult members?” Asked Reid.

“Hey! We’re not a cult.” Dean said offendedly, “Wait, are we?”

“Hait to break it to you, Deano, but I think you are.” Gabriel said.

“Aw, man. Really?” He whined.

“Quiet! Possibly, or they could have been from a rival cult. They came into the room; Gabriel antagonized them and then he and Dean killed them with…with. Well, Dean killed some of them with a knife, but they must have found a way to get hallucinogens into our blood stream because there were things that… couldn’t possibly have been real.” Hotch trailed off.

Hotch was the Unit Chief and while he did seem somewhat unsure as to what he saw, that was to be expected if hallucinogens were involved. If Hotch was sure that Dean Winchester had just murdered five people in front of them, then that was almost certainly what had happened and even if Hotch had been too confused to make a proper judgement, the five dead bodies on the floor spoke for themselves.

“Dean Winchester and Gabriel Smith, you are under arrest for murder and aiding and abetting a fugitive.” Rossi said, cuffing Dean, while Reid moved to cuff Gabriel.
“Well, this has been fun!” Gabriel said brightly as Reid grabbed his arm, “But I’m afraid you’re on your own Deano!”

As Gabriel moved to teleport himself away, Dean turned to Rossi and spoke desperately, “Wait, what if I could prove that what you saw was real?”

Reid and Rossi paused to look at each other. Indulging in a fantasy form a serial killer as deluded as Dean might only make him more dangerous and only encourage his belief that they were deniers of the truth, or worse, monsters in disguise.

However, if they allowed Dean to attempt to prove something that obviously couldn’t be proven, it could help to snap JJ, Morgan and Prentiss out of their confusion.

“Okay.” Reid said tightly.

Dean lifted his cuffed hands from behind his back, “Uh, I’m going to need my hands for this.”

Reid looked towards Rossi who nodded.

Dean stretched his stiff arms in front of him, Reid took a few steps backwards, understandably cautious about having a confirmed serial killer cult leader who had murdered five people in the last two minutes.

Dean clasped his hands together in front of him and weirdly enough, began to pray, “Dear Castiel, angel who is no longer in heaven because he was too much of a sentimental son of a bitch, would you mind gracing us with your presence sometime this century?”

They all looked around for a few minutes expectantly, “See?” Hotch said turning to JJ, “What you saw was no more than a halluc–”

Hotch was interrupted by a trench-coated angel appearing in front of him. Before any of them could move or speak, Cas’s appearance was quickly, and a lot less gracefully followed by Crowley and Rowena who landed in a tangled heap on the floor.

“Ouch! Mother, get off of me!” Crowley hissed through gritted teeth.

“Don’t go around blaming me Fergus, if you had kept a closer eye on the angel, I wouldn’t have had to use a three-thousand-year-old teleportation spell to get us here!”

“Can someone explain what the hell is happening!?” Rossin yelled.

Reid looked like he was about to pass out.

“Dean, why did you want me here?” Cas asked.

“Why the hell were you with Crowley and Rowena?” He sighed, “You know what? Never mind, would you mind showing the agents your wings?”

“Why would I do that, Dean? They already know that I am an angel, I told them.” Castiel said sounding deeply confused.

“Cas, baby. I know that, but you remember how humans are stubborn as hell and don’t believe a damn thing unless you shove it in their faces.”

Cas tilted his head before unfurling his wings, light bulbs exploded as the silhouettes flared across the walls, eyes wide with blue light.

“Happy?” Asked Cas turning to face the agents who nodded dumbly.

“So…you weren’t lying?” Reid stammered, “You’re actually an angel, so does that mean he’s…” He trailed off staring at Gabriel.

“An archangel? Yeah, took you long enough.” Gabriel said rolling his eyes.

“And who are they?” Prentiss asked having gotten over her initial shock relatively quickly.

“King of hell, at your service. Feel free to bow.” Crowley said in a low voice, obviously trying to come across as intimidating which would have worked had Rowena not then proudly introduced herself as his mother.

“Heaven and hell are real?” JJ asked faintly.

“Yep. You don’t have to worry though, Heaven’s a lot nicer now that Jack’s running the place.” Dean said.

The agents collectively froze, wondering just how badly they would be punished for arresting the new god when Jack and Claire appeared in the middle of the room.

“Cas!” Jack ran forward to pull his father into an embrace.

Sam stepped out from his terrible hiding spot behind the wall surprising literally no one, “I’m assuming that we’re good to leave agents?”

“Yes,” Hotch said immediately, “and, uh, we apologize for arresting you.”

Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand, “Don’t bother apologizing Cas and Gabe aren’t exactly the smiting kind when it comes to humans. Oh, and Hotch, if you ever come across a case that’s a bit well…supernatural, don’t hesitate to call.”

Dean handed Hotch a slip of paper and then the hunters vanished.

“We don’t tell anyone about this, ok?”

The rest of them nodded.

“Anyone else up for a drink?” Morgan asked.

The agreement was unanimous.