#hope it includes clauses about those fake ass games too also how they use him to capitalize on socials oh well

[wejustvibing]

this is so fascinating to me

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 5)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2535

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A long moment passed before he said anything.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said with a bit of a chuckle. 

You pushed past him as you said, “Cut the shit, Dexter. We both know the truth. Now shut that door, I don’t think your neighbors want to hear any of this conversation we’re about to have.” 

He shut the door immediately and stared at you, his hands in his pockets. 

“What are you talking about? I work--”

“You work for Miami PD. Yes, I know. I know a lot about you. Like how right now you’re weighing whether or not to kill me, or otherwise dispose of me to save your ass, let me save you the trouble though.”

He still made no move.

You let out a soft sigh. “Dexter, relax, I’m not here to arrest you.” 

His eyes darted from side to side in confusion. “You’re not?”

“No, and I’m not wearing a wire. This is probably going to sound crazy and hard to believe, and I can hardly believe I’m about to say it but… I want you to teach me,” you informed, gathering all of your courage.

“Teach you?” He frowned, turning his head slightly, as if he hadn’t heard you.

“I want you to teach me how to be a serial killer, and get away with it.”

A choked laugh escaped him. “Look I don’t know who you think I might be or what led you to this conclusion but--” 

“Dexter… Please,” you begged. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I’m serious. I’ll strip down to my bra and panties to show you I’m not wearing a wire. Check my bag. You’ll find my FBI issued gun on my hip, I won’t hide that.” 

He looked you up and down for a long time before slowly walking forward towards you. 

“If this is true… if you’re serious… why? Why would you want a serial killer to teach you this? You took an oath to uphold the law. Why would you do this?”

“Let’s just say I’m sick of scumbags getting away for stupid shit.”

He shook his head. “No, in order for this to work, we have to be open and honest with each other. Clearly, I greatly underestimated you. I’m used to this city and the detectives being--”

“Blasé?” 

He laughed slightly. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

“Well, I agree about the open and honest clause. So, first of all, am I right? Did you kill those eighteen people?” 

Again, a long gaze. He was gauging whether or not you were telling the truth about not arresting him. 

“Yes.” 

He gave you a tense look, almost as if he were waiting on disgust or rejection. On the contrary though, a wave of pride and relief flooded you. 

“What tipped you off?” he questioned. 

“Your smirk, in our interrogation. You must get away with that a lot here.” 

“I do. I get away with quite a bit. I fake a lot, very well.”

“Yes. You do. However, you over extended.”

“How so?”

“On the victims, you said something about how horrible it must be. None of your colleagues did this. They know it’s horrible, we’re all working this case, we all seek justice. Adding the sympathy bit just felt forced, felt like you were telling me exactly what I wanted to hear.” 

“You’re good.”

“That’s what they tell me.” 

“Well, I think we have a long night ahead of us, care to sit down?” 

“Promise me you aren’t going to try and hurt me,” you said before you moved. “Or even more clear, swear to me you won’t kill me.” 

Dexter peered at you and you looked at him. 

“If I wanted to arrest you, I’d have come with backup. My team would be here. I would’ve called the Florida Bureau of Investigation. There are several ways I could’ve taken this to try and take you down but the fact of the matter is, I didn’t. I don’t want someone like you off the streets.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you do what the rest of us want to do.” 

“Well… Either you’re very stupid for coming without backup or you somehow trust me.”

“I do.”

“Okay, I have no desire to kill you.”

“That’s a relief,” you joked lightly. “We can sit now.” 

The two of you made your way to the couches. You made sure to watch Dexter sit across from you before you, and not after, lest he try to kill you from behind. 

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you asked once you got settled.

“Well let’s start small. Tell me about you, about your life.” 

“I’m married, been married for eight years to another FBI agent. We have no children. We live in DC. We both work for the BAU. I’m an only child. My parents live in Kentucky and we’re rather close.”

“Sounds perfect,” he noted. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you stated.

“Do what?” he asked, unsure what you were referring to. 

“Pretend. Fake emotions. I’m sure it’s hard for you to do it day in and day out, every second of the day. That’s why you allow yourself little smirks like in my interrogation. Being open and honest includes not faking your emotions.” 

Dexter stared at you in awe. 

After a moment, he finally said, “You’re rather comfortable with a cold serial killer.”

“It’s my job to be comfortable around killers. If I wasn’t, I couldn’t do my job.” You shrugged.

“I suppose that’s true.” 

“Besides, you aren’t cold. You don’t kill children. But that reminds me, tell me about the non-criminals.” 

“Sorry?”

“The eighteen, the ones that are criminals and got away are obvious. I want to know why you killed the others. I have a theory they aren’t as squeaky clean as they appeared.” 

Dexter’s gaze dropped to his hands. “One of them killed three little boys, covered it up, and then said he couldn’t help himself. Another one was running a rape site and killing women. Another one was running sex trafficking. Another one was poisoning kids at bake sales.”

He continued to go down the list and you nodded.

“So I was right. You don’t kill without purpose.”

“Killing without purpose is just murder.” 

A smile twitched onto your face. 

“Precisely. In my line of work, I can’t just shoot a bad guy in the face because I discovered he’s the killer we’ve been looking for. No matter how much I want to, I can’t. He needs to be brought to justice. But I say fuck that. It’s time that bad people out there were just gone. I think jail helps those repent who commit small crimes. But repeat offenders are murderers, rapists…  They don’t care, they aren’t sorry, so neither am I.”

He eyed you up and down, you weren’t sure what he was thinking, so you broke the silence.

“You asked me to tell you why I want to do it? That’s why. I’m tired of seeing sick fucks get off on technicalities, just to get the green light to go out and do it all over again.” 

“Did a personal case happen?” he asked. You were sure he’d picked it up from people watching. The fact that people are driven by personal motive.

“No. Actually this wasn’t personal at all.” 

“So why now?” 

You shook your head. “Just… sick of it.” 

He bobbed his head for a moment before you decided to go a different path.

“So tell me about you. Debra isn’t your bio sister and your foster father was a cop. Is that where you learned how to cover your tracks?”

“Yes, it is. I’m dating a woman with two children. Debra is my only relation left alive. I don’t have any close friends, for obvious reasons. I own a boat. I have a brother that tried to kill my sister.”

“Biological?”

“Yeah, apparently my mom was butchered in front of both of us as a child and it manifested into this desire to kill. He killed prostitutes and made it a game.”

“That’s awful. Why didn’t he just come up to you and say who he was?” 

“Where is the fun in that?” he asked with a somewhat coy smile.

An odd sensation of friendliness hit you. He was being candid with you. He felt at least comfortable to joke about his true identity with you. This surprised you, and warmed your heart.

“Working girls aren’t killed?” you tried with a bit of a smile. 

“Well, I don’t agree exactly with the senseless killing but I think he wanted to get my attention. I think he was the last person in this world that truly understood me.” 

This made you pause, and for a moment, feel sorry for him. He couldn’t share his identity with anyone. He couldn’t ever be himself with those he considered close. What an awful way to live. 

“So no one besides your brother and father know about your… affliction?” 

“No. I’d like to keep it that way. If Deb found out, she’d fucking lose it.” 

You raised your hands in defense. “Only asking. I’m not telling anyone. At this point, if I told anyone my ass would be on the line too.”

“So your husband doesn’t know you’re here?”

“He knows I’m investigating. He knows I got close… I never gave him your name or anyone else’s for that matter.” 

“Again, bold or stupid.” 

“Maybe both. I took a leap of faith coming here but seeing as your father and sister are both cops, and you work for cops, I hoped you might hesitate to kill me. I also hoped that if I didn’t threaten you, you wouldn’t feel compelled to silence me.” 

He thought for only a moment before speaking. “Well if we’re really going to do this… you can’t tell your husband.” 

“Of course. He would… I don’t even want to think of what would happen if he knew I was here just talking to you and not arresting you.” 

This was true. You hadn’t really even thought about Spencer ever, ever finding out about what you were doing. Even if you never killed anyone, just the fact that you were sitting here with Dexter, and not apprehending him, would make him question your entire relationship. The thought of him discovering the truth made your chest tight and your stomach knot up. 

At best, he would divorce you, which would kill you. At worst, he would imprison you and Dexter. None of those things could ever happen.

“He doesn’t share your worldview?” he wondered, his brows knitting together.

You laughed. “No. Of course not. He believes in the justice system.”

“And you don’t?”

With a shrug, you answered, “Not really. Not any more.” 

“Kind of sad.”

“What’s sad is I do my job, get the fucker, and he gets away.” 

Dexter nodded. 

“I just can’t live in this world anymore knowing these… these monsters are out molesting kids, murdering innocent fathers, torturing animals, and they get to walk free because some asshole defense attorney pulled a bullshit loophole. It’s sickening and I just can’t do it anymore. It’s heartbreaking and enraging to do my job, work day and night to find them, and in the end, it means nothing.” 

“I know what you mean. I watch my sister work her ass off to get the criminals the ‘right way’ only for it to backfire. To have her wait days for a search warrant and in the meantime they’ve destroyed the evidence because they smelled the cops a mile away. It gets hard to watch her, and the rest of them, scramble to do what’s ‘right’ and it not work out for them. My way is faster and efficient. No more bad guy, no red tape, no chance of them repeating the offense.” 

You merely bobbed your head. The two of you sat quietly for a moment. He was probably trying to decide if he trusted you and you were trying to make sure this is really what you wanted. At this point, you could shake hands, and walk away. You would tell him to keep fighting the good fight, but that this wasn’t for you. 

But it was. 

“So will you do it? Will you teach me?” 

“What if I say no? Will you arrest me?” 

You smirked, shaking your head. “Dex, I already said I don’t want you off the streets. I won’t arrest you. I’ll pretend to keep investigating. I’ll flounder a bit. Then turn it in as a cold case with no leads. You can live your life, and I’ll live mine. You’ll never hear from me ever again.” 

“Seems too easy.”

“I’m sure it does for you. And I’m sure, with your survival instincts you’ll want to kill me, to protect your identity, but I’ll do anything and everything I can to prove to you that I won’t tell anyone. Hell, I have no evidence of it. You haven’t told me how you do it, when you do it, where you dump the bodies. All I can tie to you and some of the victims is that you work at the Miami PD and some of them have been there, that’s kind of a long shot.”

“You’ve got a point. Alright… I’ll do it.”

Your face lit up.

“You will?”

“Yes, but we need to have some ground rules. First off, you need to put me in your phone as a girl. Give me a name, I don’t care. But it will lower suspicion if I call or text and your husband is nearby. If he asks who I am, just say I’m a new neighbor.”

“And you?”

“I’ll put you in my phone as a man. I’ll tell my girlfriend something similar. We have to stay under the radar at all times.”

He grabbed your phone and keyed in a number and handed it back to you, then grabbed his phone from the counter and gave it to you. 

“Won’t people see us eventually?” you wondered.

“Yes, probably. We just explain that we hit it off during the interrogation.” 

“But until then, keep it quiet.”

“As quiet as we can.” 

“I can absolutely do that. Don’t need my husband or the FBI getting suspicious.”

A laugh rolled out of him. “No, we do not. I think that’s enough for today though. Um, I’ll call you the next time I get ready to hunt.”

The phrase took me by surprise for a second so you stopped. “Hunting as in--”

“Looking for a new victim.” 

At this, you bobbed your head. “Right.”

You began to walk out the door, Dexter behind you, making you hyper aware of your surroundings. He could still very well kill you. But he didn’t. When you got to the door, you opened it, spinning in the doorway.

“Thank you…”

“For what?” he asked, frowning.

“Trusting me. I’m sure that is extremely difficult for you. You may not even fully trust me, but you trust me enough to walk out your door and that speaks volumes for our relationship.” 

A slight smile twitched at his lips before he nodded. “Right. Well… have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too. Goodnight, Dexter.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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