This is a crossover between Criminal Minds and Supernatural. You can still appreciate the story if you have only watched one of the shows, with a very limited or basic understanding of the other.

The story is set post-season 8 for Supernatural, and season 5 for Criminal Minds (or any season where the cast is Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, JJ, Garcia)

Words: 3300

Warning: Some explicit language.

A/N at the bottom.

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"Let us go forth with fear and courage and rage to save the world." - Grace Paley

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CHAPTER 1

A deep red silk dress, cut in a 50s style; probably hand-made, definitely very expensive. It stood out against the dullness of the room, lit only by the candles placed in a neat circle on the floor. The tall, somewhat terrifying woman stood over a chair placed in the centre of the room, where a well-built man with dark skin and even darker eyes sat, staring up at her.

"Please!" he begged. Blood sprayed from his lips as they pressed together and he frantically formed the words, "I told you, Crowley gave me information! Please… I can find it for you, just… don't kill me." he pleaded.

She looked down at him; the lips, painted bright red, spreading slowly across her face to form a smile. "Sweetheart you're a terrible liar."

Then she reached out, still smirking down at him, and touched his face. Though her touch was light, almost gentle, the moment her fingers reached his cheek, the man began to writhe in pain. The burning light shining out through every opening in his body lasted but a moment, then just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

Her lieutenant – a stocky woman who stood, dressed in a tailored suit with her hands behind her back, seemed totally unphased by what had just happened. But she grimaced for a second as the light from the candles illuminated the large, thick red wound that lined the taller woman's neck, stitched together with cotton.

Composing herself, the lieutenant asked, "Is he the last of Crowley's deuces?"

The woman smiled as she took a worn leather jacket from her lieutenant's arms and threw it over her shoulder. "I doubt that. But we're sending a message – anyone who served that worm will not be spared. All that's left now are foot soldiers who'll be loyal to whoever's running the show. Which, right now… is me."

"Shall I leave the body here?"

Abaddon grinned. "Oh no. Bring him with us! We're going to need him for our next project!"

And then she was gone.

10 weeks later:

"It's one of the most interesting mathematical phenomenon found in nature!" Reid said, his eyes lighting up as he continued to ramble, while Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan exchanged knowing smiles. "The Fibonacci sequence can be found in every part of nature; from the number of petals on flowers and the spiral pattern you find on snail shells, to even the shape of the human face; everything keeps to the sequence. In fact, it's been theorised by many mathematicians that what we find aesthetically pleasing or physically attractive in another person's face is actually just how close they are to the Golden Ratio, a derivative of the sequence. The closer one is to the Golden Ratio, the more beautiful they're considered to be." He finished, smiling as he nodded.

"I don't know. 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder' and all that." JJ commented.

"True, but there are some people that everyone can agree are pretty, right? I mean, Jude Law!" Prentiss replied, turning to look at her.

"Mm-hm, and George Clooney!" She added.

"Henry Cavill!" Garcia interjected excitedly.

"Which one's that?"

"Clark Kent in the new Superman movie!" Prentiss smiled.

"Oh! Yeah, mmmm-hm!" JJ mused. "That's one face I could stare at all day!"

"Hey, hey! What about me?" Morgan suddenly interjected, holding out his hands and wearing an expression of mock upset. "I'm aesthetically pleasing!"

"Meh," Emily joked, shrugging, "I think that one's up to interpretation."

Morgan's eyebrows shot up and they erupted in laughter.

"Don't worry hotshot, you've always got my gaze!" Garcia said, grinning as she reached out and punched Morgan's arm playfully.

JJ and Prentiss smiled at one another and the company continued their conversation until Hotch approached with a stern face. All fell silent.

They were all pretty sure by this point that Hotch's face was permanently set in a sombre expression, but today there was something different; he didn't just look serious. He looked troubled.

"In the briefing room, now, we've got a case." He said as he approached them, then turned off and walked up to Strauss' office.

The four profilers exchanged puzzled, troubled looks. As Prentiss raised her eyebrow at JJ, she just shrugged and replied, "Nothing's come across my desk."

Eventually, one by one, all the BAU's elite team of profilers filtered into the room upstairs. Garcia, their technical analyst shuffled in behind everyone else with a worried but curious expression.

"Lebanon, Kansas," Hotch said as they all filtered in and sat down. "Seven bodies turned up in the woods, 5 of them women, all of them were fully clothed and had been stabbed in the torso."

"A mass killing." Morgan mused, then looked at the pictures on the screen. "So what's special about these murders?"

"There have been several other disappearances and murders across the area, previously thought to be unrelated. But when the Sheriff's office pulled security camera footage from the nearest building, they found these," Hotch replied, clicking a button on the remote. The image of those bodies in the woods, lying strewn across the ground, disappeared and the pictures that replaced it were of security camera footage, showing two Caucasian men walking towards the woods. The taller of the two wielded a knife, and the shorter one held a gun at his side.

Hotch looked up at the team and spoke. "Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Why do those names sound familiar?" Pretniss asked, squinting at the screen, trying to make some sense of who they were to her.

"They were on the top of F.B.I's most wanted list for the grand total of one week, about a year ago," Reid said, looking around, "The brothers went on a killing spree, crossing several states in western America, usually going into largely crowded areas like diners or banks and shooting everyone in sight. They made sure every mass murder was videoed, if not by a security camera, then by some hand-held device on scene. But they were already being pursued by the FBI and local police in many towns long before the spree killings for various murders and other crimes such as grave desecrations."

"So why the short stay on the Most Wanted list? Were they caught?" Rossi inquired.

"No," Hotch shook his head, clicking another button on the remote as two death certificates appeared. "They died – supposedly. Like Reid said, they've been wanted for several years now by multiple authorities, and given the ferocity of their lastest killing spree, the Beuro's not taking any chances. Wheels up in 30."

As the team began to file out, Hotch added, in a lower tone, "Garcia, I want you to come with us."

She turned and looked up at him. "Sir?"

"They're having some technical trouble with the footage, and I need it analysed. Give me everything you can. Kevin can take point from here if you need any assistance."

She nodded in reply, then watched as he turned and left the room.

As Hotch reached the door he looked back. "Garcia?" She was staring at the board, seemingly transfixed by the new photos of Sam and Dean that had come up on the screen. When he called her name a second time, she suddenly turned to face him, as though pulling herself out of her own little world. "Come on. You need a ready bag. And don't be late!"

Meanwhile, already in Lebanon, Sam Winchester sat at the planning table in the Men of Letter's bunker. He, his brother and Castiel had just returned from a run-in with some demons on a case. There had been an alarming number of murders just out of town, and several strange occurrences usually affiliated with large-scale demon activity. Unfortunately, their investigations had led them off a main road outside an office building and into the adjacent woods. Once there, they'd happened upon a group of a dozen or so demons, performing some kind of ritual.

"Ouch!" Castiel's voice sounded from the other side of the room, where Dean was standing over him, patching up a flesh-wound on his arm. "That hurt, Dean!"

"Yeah, well suck it up! Cuts hurt, and you're probably gonna have a lot of them from now on, Cas. Get used to it and stop being such a sissy!" Then Dean sighed, regretting the words as soon as he'd finished saying them. Castiel looked away as his face fell. "I know you're not used to this, but that's why I told you to stay in the bunker!" he insisted.

"What's the use of – ow!" he suddenly exclaimed as Dean threaded a stitch through the deep cut. "What's the use of being here if I can't do anything, Dean? I'm useless as an Angel, now… I can't even be a decent human."

"Hey," Dean said, looking down at him with more sympathy and less attitude, "You're doing fine. You've only been at this for a couple of months. Most people your age sleep for 20 hours a day, shit themselves and cry when they're awake cos they can't talk. You're doing pretty well, considering." he joked.

As he finished the bandage, wrapping it tightly over Cas' forearm, the blue-eyed man looked up at Dean and mumbled a thank you.

Nodding it off, Dean sauntered over to the table and sat himself down opposite Sam. "The real question is – what the hell are these demons doing here? There's been five murders in the past two weeks! What are they after?"

"I don't know, Dean. I took some pictures of what they had at that ritual thing in the woods, but I don't think it's got anything to do with these murders. There's blood in it, but as far as I can tell, no human parts; just… feathers, some kind of dust, a translucent liquid, and animal bones." Sam replied.

The older of the two brothers sighed heavily as he rubbed his eyes. "Why so many though? They don't usually work in teams unless they're on some special mission. And we know Crowley isn't giving those out anymore because he's… indisposed. So why the party?"

"I don't think they were celebrating, Dean." Cas interjected, but looked down at the table when Dean rolled his eyes.

"We should interview some of the victim's families tomorrow," Sam suggested. Dean nodded his head and Cas looked from one Winchester to the other. Interrogation… he could do that. Sort of.

They arrived at the houses shortly after breakfast and the short drive to the wife of the first victim, Marie Donnavon was spent mostly discussing the case and getting nowhere in particular. The door opened almost instantly after Sam had pressed the doorbell, and a petite blonde woman with delicate features appeared behind it, looking up at them.

"Hi, I'm Agent Smith, this is my partner, Agent Wilcox." Dean said, smiling warmly at her.

"We're with the FBI!" Cas chimed.

"He's our er… trainee." Dean added, flashing another reassuring smile.

Once invited inside, they asked their questions – was there anything strange about him before he died? Were their any changes in behaviour? Did she happen to smell sulphur or feel any cold spots in the house in the past month or so? - the usual.

Though she claimed everything was fine, they could tell there was something wrong. Marie was sitting crouched over with her arms folded in, making herself look even smaller than she was. She was practically hugging herself, constantly looking to the door as though reassuring herself there was a way out. And even though they were talking about her husband of five years, who died not two weeks ago, there wasn't even a single tear forming in her eyes.

"Marie?" Sam tried, leaning forward as he gazed at her caringly, "I know there was something wrong. And I know in a close-knit community like this it's hard to admit problems to outsiders, but please believe me when I say we're just trying to do the right thing here and figure this out."

She sighed, taking a deep breath. Then she spoke; a voice that fitted her physique perfectly – soft and small. "Phil wasn't Phil anymore. And I don't mean he changed like people sometimes change when they go through bad things or when they get older. I mean he wasn't Phil. I know that sounds crazy, but I know my husband. For about five weeks before he died, life with him was hell. He just woke up one morning and he was somebody else, somebody… evil."

"Evil's a pretty strong word, Ms Donnavon." Dean commented.

Marie nodded slowly. "Phil was a gentle man. He was a postman for pete's sake! But one morning, a switch flipped and he didn't go to work, he was missing for almost two weeks, and when he returned and I confronted him, he…" when her sentence hung in the air, unfinished, Sam and Dean looked at her, edging her to go on. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "He threw me across the room."

"Your husband was physically abusive to you?" Cas asked.

"No," she replied, turning to look at him, "I don't mean he started hitting me – he literally threw me across the room. He just slapped me and I flew across the room and landed by that cabinet there." she finished, pointing to a large, ornate cabinet situated several metres away.

Nodding understandingly, Dean and Sam exchanged knowing glances.

"Well, I'm very sorry for your loss, Ms Donnavon." Sam said suddenly, as the company rose. Handing her a card, he added, "If you have anything else you remember, don't hesitate to call us. We'll show ourselves out."

The small lady watched from the comfort of her sofa as the three tall agents left her house and heard the door slam behind them. Once outside, Castiel turned to the brothers. "That would be an extraordinary display of strength for any human." he said simply.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "Most likely possessed. So – what? The people who died are demons?"

Sam shrugged as they got into the car. "I don't know, it looks like it. We'll have to ask the other victim's families to make sure."

"Well, lets leave them to it. They can hash it out themselves – I'm not gonna stop them from killing each other!"

"There are other lives at risk here, Dean," Sam reminded him as they began towards the next house, a couple of miles West. "When a demon dies, so does the person they're possessing."

"You'd rather we let the demons live?"

Sam sighed. "I'd rather nobody dies, Dean. We need to find out why they're killing them; why the demons are possessing anyone in the first place."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away, but begrudgingly, he knew Sam was right.

The journey back to the Batcave was spent in a somewhat awkward silence. It wasn't until they drove up and over the grassy hill that they were all pulled from their thoughts to rapt attention as Dean slammed the breaks on. As though from nowhere, a hellish sight had appeared in the road ahead, now just a few feet away from the hood of the Impala. The party of three all stared for a moment, not fully able to comprehend the sight of her.

Abaddon was standing in the road, just a few feet away from them in a new deep red dress and that old leather jacket, smirking at them with her arms folded.

"Well, boys!" she exclaimed as they all stepped out of the car. "Isn't this a pleasant surprise!"

Dean swallowed, taking a deep breath as he formulated a response. Abaddon was a pain in the ass, but she was also a lot more. She was one of the most powerful demons they'd met in a long time – a match for Alasteir or Azazel anyday. Worse still, she was learning fast and soon the Winchesters would have trouble keeping up.

"Castiel!" she exclaimed upon noticing him as he appeared from behind Sam. "How quaint!"

"Abaddon." he replied gruffly, staring at her.

"How's Heaven?" she smirked, well aware it had been months since he'd touched Heaven's walls or walked that hallowed ground.

"How're the stitches?" Dean spat.

"Bloody." she replied instantly, "Just like Heaven! Although – you haven't been there in a while, have you?" she added, turning to eye the angel-no-more.

"What do you want?" Sam asked haughtily, staring her down with a bold defiance.

She turned her head to match his gaze. "I want you to stay out of my way." When the three hunters exchanged quiet looks, she continued, "I don't like you. You're like those annoying little insects you have – oh what do you call them? Wasps. You're nothing but a pain in my neck… literally."

Dean couldn't help but smirk at the remark as he looked at the permanent patch-work etched along her neckline.

"But," she added, "I don't mind having you around. Because do you know what wasps do? They eat other annoying little insects. And as long as you stay out of my way, I'm happy for you to keep swatting flies. You're pretty good at it actually; a lot better than your grandaddy!" the boys flinched at the mention of Henry, both stiffening as Sam's fist began to curl into a ball. She relished their reaction. "So now that I'm in charge, I'm here to tell you that you can carry on – I'll stay out of your way. As long as you stay out of mine."

"Oh, so you're queen bitch now?" Dean asked, "Thought running hell was Crowley's job?"

This time it was their turn to relish the moment as she grimaced; her face contorting in anger. "That little worm?" she hissed. Then, a mirthless laugh left her lips as she continued, "No, you put him out of business – thanks for that! Mommy's home now and things are going to change a little. I've started already, as I'm sure you've noticed!"

"So it's you?" Sam asked, "All these murders, the demons – you're killing them off?"

"I was swatting flies." she answered, blinking slowly, savouring the memories of all those squealing pigs, begging for mercy. "Now Hell belongs to me, and those flies still longing for their old 'King' don't have any place in my world."

"So why all the hocus pocus in the woods?" Dean played with his gun as he spoke, wrapping his fingers around the handle. Not that it would do much good – it was more of an instinctual reaction. He was looking forward to the moment when he'd get to shoot her in the face with the colt.

"Oh I'm done with Crowley's lot – those flies have been squashed. No, I'm working on a new project now. But this town is too small for the both of us, boys – you've been stepping on my toes! After your little tussle in the woods I had to start all over again!"

"What a shame!" Dean remarked, flashing her a sarcastic smile.

Unphased by his comment, she continued, considerably less humourous all of a sudden. "You stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours. But if I find you sniffing around my girls again… well I'm sure you won't be missed when your entrails line the way to Hell." she finished. There was a moment of silence as the Winchesters and Cas exchanged looks, before she suddenly burst, "Well, it's been lovely catching up! Au revoir!"

A momentary pause, then, as soon as she was gone, Dean spoke. "Well – I think I liked her better without a head!" he exclaimed. "Queen Bitch is definitely up to something."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Whatever it is, it can't be good."

Cas frowned for a moment, then inquired, "Why would she be trying to do good, Sam? She's a demon."

Dean rolled his eyes again. Sam laughed. Cas stood their looking confused. Just like old times.

A/N → I really hope you like this story – I've worked hard on it. I'm hoping to update every 1-2 weeks but I would really appreciate a beta-reader (or more than one!), because I am desperate to get this story right. I want to amaze you.

So please leave a review, tell me what you thought – I'm very interested in how you all take this story and what you think of how it develops.

Thank you so much for reading this far! ;)