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Off Limits

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This story is No. 2 in the series "Darkly Dreaming Suprise". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Dean struggled again. “Hey! I didn’t kill anything that didn’t deserve it.”

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories > Crossover: Other
Television > Dexter
(Past Donor)CharlotteFR1511,263382,4608 Mar 088 Mar 08Yes
Off Limits

Spoilers: Everything for Supernatural and Dexter (both seasons)
Characters: Dean, Sam, Dexter
Rating: PG-15 Just in case.

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. It's all done in the spirit of fun.

Dean slowly emerged from what he realized was a drugged state. The memory of a slight sting in his neck just before lights out must have been a needle. What had they been doing? Oh yeah, Dean had headed to that abandoned Hoodoo shop to check for EMF readings and then he was supposed to pick Sam up at the library. He pried his eyes open and shivered. Dean tried to move his head, but it as well as his whole body was secured somehow… and he was naked. ‘Plastic? What the fuck? Sam. Oh god where’s Sam?’ “Sam!” Dean heard movement up and to the right. “Sam! Answer me dammit!”

Off to his right, Dean’s phone rang with the tone he’d assigned to Sam’s number. Good. His brother was still out there and probably pissed that Dean hadn’t picked him up yet. At least whoever snatched him hadn’t turned it off. Sam could track him down that way if he couldn’t get out of this on his own. A man’s face appeared in his line of sight. Square jaw, sandy hair and a pair of green eyes that watched him impassively.

“I knew you looked familiar.”

The man’s voice was eerily calm and Dean’s pulse jacked up a notch. Miami had had a serious run on serial killers; the last of which had supposedly blown himself up in a cabin out in the everglades. It had to be the heat that attracted the freaks to Florida and this whole set-up reeked of freak-show.

“I’m very interested in how you managed to fake your death so effectively. The body in St Louis was confirmed as yours via DNA as well as its uncanny resemblance. There’s no record of a twin so just who’s body did the St. Louis P.D. find in Rebecca Warren’s house?”

Dean’s mind was whirling. He’d been testing the strength of his bonds as his captor talked and there was no way he was wriggling out of this one without help. “First of all, I killed that son of a bitch in Becky’s house. Asshole took my face and identity. The police wouldn’t have had any idea how to handle it if they’d have managed to catch it.”

Curiosity lit the man’s eyes and he asked, “It? What do you mean ‘it’?”

“That thing in St. Louis was a shapeshifter. A creature that takes on the actual identity of whoever it chooses to accomplish whatever goal it has. Some do it for power or money, others for some sick compulsion like the one in Missouri. That one liked to go after women, posing as their husbands and then torturing them to death, framing the husbands in the process.” Dean met the man’s eyes, “Why am I here exactly? And why am I naked? Oh and…” Something shiny and decidedly metal flashed in the corner of his eye. “Uh, you really don’t want to do this dude. Ow! Son of a BITCH!” The scalpel wielding asshole had just cut his face!

Dean watched the man collect some of his blood and drip it onto a glass slide. ‘Hey! Didn’t that Butcher dude keep blood samples as his trophies? Looks like they didn’t get the right guy. Shit shit shit! Come on Sam, where are you bro?’

The man’s voice brought Dean out of his freak-out. “I was really surprised to see you and your brother on the beach. I mean, you’re both supposed to be dead. Again. I don’t know how you managed to escape death twice, but I assure you, you will pay for your crimes.”

‘Crimes? Think Dean… this Butcher they wrote about in the papers only killed murderers.’ Dean struggled again. “Hey! I didn’t kill anything that didn’t deserve it.”

“Is that how you view your victims? As ‘things’?”

Dean could see something a lot larger than a scalpel in the man’s hand.

“What else would you call a ghost or a demon? Supernatural creatures do exist you know. There’s a lot of scary things out in the dark. Werewolves, vampires. And dude, I’m sure you’ve created more than one angry spirit if the reports on your own personal body count are accurate. I’m NOT the bad guy.” The huge sharp knife dropped out of sight.

The man looked a little dazed and then shook his head. He looked down at Dean for an uncomfortable amount of time; indecision darkening his eyes. Dean’s phone went off again and the man’s face disappeared. The ringtone cut off abruptly and Dean hoped that the man hadn’t actually turned off the phone. He could hear the man pacing and Dean tried to come up with something to say that wouldn’t provoke the scary serial killer.

Nothing came to mind. After all of the crap he’d gone through in his life, something as mundane as a whack job would be responsible for taking him out.

He just prayed that Sam would get away.

The man’s face appeared again and he looked decidedly puzzled. “Angry spirits?”

“Dude. You obviously have no idea. Violent, unexpected deaths are the main reason behind angry spirits. And if there’s no body to deal with? Seriously hard to put it to rest.”

“What can they do?”

“Hurt people man. Kids are especially vulnerable cuz they can see them sometimes.”

Dean could see that the man was seriously thinking about this new information. Hopefully the guy has a soft spot for kids. Dean could use all the help he could get.

“Hey. Why don’t you let me up, I’ll put my clothes on and teach you how to prevent an angry spirit?”

He tried to smile winningly at the man’s incredulous expression.

“Like I’m gonna go to the cops? I’ve only got a few goals in life dude. Protect my brother, kill all the demonic sons of bitches I can and get laid a lot before my expiration date. Whattaya say huh?”


The look on Sam’s face as he burst into the shop was absolutely priceless. Dean had helped Dexter take down the plastic and pack everything away and they were discussing the finer points of a textbook salt and burn when a wild-eyed Sam snuck in through the back door, weapon drawn and nostrils flaring. Dean had been mid-laugh when he spotted his little brother and the worry on Sam’s face switched to fury in 5.9 seconds.

A vein throbbed in his brother’s forehead and some of the trinkets in this joke of a hoodoo shop rattled and Dean realized he should have called Sam. But Dean still wasn’t too sure about this Dexter character and hadn’t wanted to push the envelope too far. He’d been whammied by a vamp last month and was still trying to understand how things like that could truly exist. Dean couldn’t understand why the bloodsucking bitch hadn’t taken a bite out of the guy and so he reached into his bag and pulled out a charm. Handing it to Dexter, Dean warned, “Dude, you so need to wear this all the time. You’d be a demon’s wet dream and the first victims it would choose would be your family.”

“Um, thanks.” Dexter put it on and tucked it under his shirt with a smile.

The creep factor ratcheted up a notch and Dean suppressed a shudder. Grabbing his stuff and Sam, Dean hauled them out to the car. They couldn’t get out of Miami fast enough.

He put the word out through Bobby; Miami was off limits to Hunters unless invited.


The End

You have reached the end of "Off Limits". This story is complete.

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