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Published:
2020-09-09
Updated:
2023-05-24
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9,668
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8/?
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Delusional Man

Summary:

“There was a man coming towards the bar. He was handsome, all green eyes, tall, and sandy hair. He was also covered in blood. There were bite marks on his neck, scratches on his arms, and quite a few head wounds. There was a bloody machete in his right hand, and, when he sat down, Hotch could see a gun in his jeans.

“Whiskey, please, Ellen,” the man said in a deep and tired voice.“

The BAU is working a case which brings them to the Harvelles, and coincidentally, Dean Winchester

A collection of times the BAU run into Dean

[indefinite hiatus]

Chapter 1: Roadhouse

Chapter Text

Four women were dead. Young, blonde, athletic women. Both arms were cleanly chopped off before they were given a deadly dose of arsenic. Their bodies were dropped a few miles north from their abduction sites. They found signs of sexual assault.

Aaron Hotchner was not having a very good week. Four innocent women were killed and they had no leads. At this rate, another would be dead tomorrow.

While interviewing a potential suspect, they found out there was an off-the-grid Roadhouse near the dump sites.

“Folk here never go that far north,” the suspect had said. “The type of people who go to that sketchy Roadhouse? You never wanna mess with them. They’re some scary sons-a-bitches.” They couldn’t hold him any longer since he had a solid alibi.

Now, Hotch and Reid were at the Roadhouse, hoping their Unsub would be inside so they could finish this taxing case. They went in and instinctively profiled everyone in the room. There were around a dozen people (fifteen, Reid supplied later) armed with at least two weapons each, drinks, journals, and newspapers in front of them. There was a guy passed out on a pool table, an older woman tending the bar, and a younger, blonde, athletic woman serving a man some whiskey. Hotch and Reid took a seat at the bar, hoping to find out if the bartender saw anything.

“What can I get you two gentlemen?” she asked. Hotch and Reid showed their credentials.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, this is Dr. Reid. We’re with the FBI,” Hotch started firmly. The woman studied their badges, no doubt checking to see if they were fake. “We’re here about the murders that took place a few miles south of here.”

The woman’s face lit up with recognition. “Those blonde girls, right? Yeah, I’ve been keeping tabs on that.”

“Why’s that, Miss...?”

“Harvelle. Call me Ellen. You see that girl over there?” Ellen pointed at the younger blonde girl, who was serving a woman scotch. “My daughter, Jo. Perfectly capable of kicking that guy’s ass should he try anything, but can’t be too careful.” She waved Jo over.

Now addressing them both, Hotch said, “We were wondering if either of you saw anything suspicious. The bodies were dumped less than a quarter mile from here.”

Jo shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything, but I can ask around.”

“Thank you, Jo,” Reid said.

While Jo went off to interrogate the patrons, Ellen looked thoughtful and said, “There was this one guy who came in last week. Not a regular, and definitely not... not one of us. And he was eyein’ Jo a bit. This was before the first murder, and she does got looks, but he didn’t—“ she stopped there and stared behind the agents, eyes wide. Hotch and Reid turned around.

There was a man coming towards the bar. He was handsome, all green eyes, tall, and sandy hair. He was also covered in blood. There were bite marks on his neck, scratches on his arms, and quite a few head wounds. There was a bloody machete in his right hand, and, when he sat down, Hotch could see a gun in his jeans.

“Whiskey, please, Ellen,” the man said in a deep and tired voice. Hotch and Reid shared a look. This man fit their profile. White male, late twenties to early thirties. Handsome. Physically fit. Judging by the slight accent, could be local. Into young blonde women if the way he looked at Jo when he came in was anything to go by. He had a bloody machete, which easily could’ve been used to chop off those girls’ arms. Hotch and Reid ceased their silent conversation when Ellen spoke.

“Good Lord, boy, what happened to you? It was supposed to be a simple hunt, not a spar with the Devil!”

The man gave her a tired smile. “There were more than we thought and Sammy had to go and get knocked out right at the start.” He gave a dry laugh and sipped his drink. “Word of the wise, don’t take on ten vamps on your own, no matter how badass you look.”

“You took on ten vamps by yourself?” Ellen asked disbelievingly. Hotch, too, couldn’t believe it. Vampires? This man was delusional. One look at Reid said he was thinking the same thing.

“Yeah,” the guy said. “Only came out with a few scratches. Sammy’s sleeping off a concussion and punctured lung in the hospital.” At Ellen’s look (proud and impressed, Hotch notes later), he shied away. “What?” he asked, insecurity painting his voice.

“Don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re a bad hunter,” was all she said before going to make him another drink. The man blushed and smiled at the praise before regaining his composure.

He seemed to notice Hotch and Reid for the first time. He eyed their suits and ties. “Bit stiff for this joint, don’tcha think?” he said, and took a sip of his second drink. Beer this time.

They showed their badges and said their names. The guy looked impressed, especially with Reid. “FBI, huh?” He nodded approvingly. “Yeah, I know what that’s like. Goin’ ‘round the country to save those who can’t save themselves.” He said it like he believed it, and the blatant exhaustion in his voice almost made Hotch believe him too.

“Dean,” Ellen warned.

The man, Dean, waved her off. “‘s fine, Ellen.” He downed the rest of his beer and addressed the two agents again. “Say, either of you know Victor Henriksen?”

Hotch shook his head, but Reid said, “Yes, I was introduced to him. He’s working the Winchester case,” Reid added at Hotch’s questioning glance.

“Yeah,” Dean said bitterly. He took two shots before he got up. He put two tens under a shot glass and said, “Well, next time you see him, tell him to get off my ass. I didn’t torture those women. They were innocent.” He gave Ellen and Jo a quick goodbye, and left, leaving Hotch and Reid to process what he just said. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, a well-dressed man came into the Roadhouse as Dean was leaving.

Ellen motioned towards him. “He’s the one I was telling you about earlier.”

And they were back on the case, Dean Winchester forgotten.