The Devil Inside

"Why are you here Dean?"
Dean laughed quietly, his lop-sided smirk making him look much younger than a man who'd lived a life such as his should have at twenty-nine. If she didn't know his age, she'd have guessed him to be seventeen, if that... He looked up, his brown eye's flashed with amusement as he looked back, into her dull grey eye's.
"Why am I here? I would have thought you'd have your own opinion like everyone else."
She said nothing, just looked at him. Even Dean's voice had a certain rugged charm when he was being civil. His hands and ankles were shackled. Sometimes they even wrapped a chain, which they locked together with a padlock around his wrists, they never let Dean loose in a room without restraints, it was far too dangerous. He looked so normal. He was a good looking guy, charming, intelligent, hell he could even be empathetic when the mood took him but he was too unpredictable, too deadly. He was a killer. He was a unique case,they had no exact label for what they called his 'condition', he wasn't insane, wasn't a 'typical' phycopath, for one thing he continued to be highly anti-social while in jail ( Jane was still trying to ascertain wether his condition qualified for physcopathy) but certainly wasn't what the average person would call 'normal'. There was definately something wrong in his mind. Jane was begining to think it more a result of someone with the potential to be great being abused from too young an age to ever be able to live a normal life than any common mental health issue, something that someone had broken in his mind rather than something physically or chemically wrong. One minute Dean might have convinced you to trust him with a secret and then be (genuinely) consoling you, then the next, if triggered by something, he'd be snapping your neck. She'd worked out that he enjoyed learning about people almost as if the subject was always fresh for him. Then he'd explained (when pressed) that it WAS always new as no two people were ever exactly the same inside.
The sound of his foot scraping across the floor pulled her from her thoughts. He was just looking at her, thoughtful now, brow furrowed.
"So-"
"I killed my mother, my brother and my sister. Then I killed everyone who I figure hurt my family or myself. Of course you're probably gonna think my story is just like any other pissed off con that killed some bastard and justified it right? Do I think what I did was right? Yeah I fuckin' do but I realise that scares some people, some people think it makes me a bad person but I don't know about that, by the time I 'woke up' they were all dead...... I get these..... time it just used to pass me by some days, sometimes for weeks it was like nothin' was real or..... more like I wasn't really there, like I was semi conscious or something..... like I let go and let the darkness drive me around." Dean chuckled . "That's why I'm here"
He'd cut her off, a bad habit he had. He could sit, silent in a room with someone for hours but as soon as they went to speak sometimes, he'd realise he wanted to say something. Jane figured this to be a power thing, one that he was unaware of himself, of course she hadn't yet said as it may insult him and she was still building up a repore with him. These things take time with someone like Dean, it could take years though she wasn't sure how long she had. He was on death row, of course, for his crimes, the debate of his sanity was probably the only reason he hadn't been killed sooner. Most of his crimes had been particularly savage, he'd killed forty-one people as far as the police knew but it was speculated that the number might be much higher. His weapon of choice was usually whatever was at hand, (though he was partial to blade's), he'd even killed one guy by holding him down and melting plastic into his mouth until he asphixiated. He forced milk down another man's throat until he choaked, he burnt, stabbed, mutilated and tortured every one of his victims to varying degree's. Though he'd never shot anyone. When pressed on why he'd (quite savagely) explained that you "don't fucking point guns at people dumbass unless you're a total idiot." The irony was not lost on Jane but for some reason it made sense in Dean J Daniels world. The fact that he used so many different methods is one of the reasons it took police so long to catch him. There were also a number of other reasons such as the fact that he'd left his father alive and his family was a broken one and none of them lived together. A lot of the murders were not seen to be connected at first.....

He picked at the edge of the desk with his finger tips and looked up at her, his head cocked to the side. He was leaning back in the chair, relaxed. A good sign though you still had to be careful with Dean, he could move while appearing to be relaxed and motionless. He was an expert in subterfuge and slight of hand. Even though most of his three years in jail had been in solitary confinement as he caused too much trouble in the general population, he'd been learning criminal behaviours from a young age as most children from abusive homes do. Ways to hide things from an angry violent parent or their abusive spouse ect. It was always just as confusing as it was confronting for Jane to interview men like Dean J Daniels. Often they were products of abuse and mal treatment, in her opinion this didn't justify their actions but it did explain them and Jane  believed it showed a good case for more preventitive measures being put in place to help kids and stop them becoming monsters. It was heart breaking and disturbing to see a picture of the brutal murderer you'd just interviewed as a snotty nosed, shoeless child hiding behind the leg of a parent who looked like they were leaning against a pole in the photo because it was the only thing holding them up, other than the child they seem to be scowling at. And it made Jane feel responsible in an indirect way and that pissed her off.
"The darkness?"
"Yeah the darkness, the fire you know. The thing that pushes you to do things even if you don't really want to but it gets hungry and tries to make you."
"Do you mean.... A seperate thing from your self?" Jane was a bit unsure how to take this, as far as she knew Dean wasn't delusional.
"No," Dean sniggered,his chains jingling. "Just that part of yourself that has no remorse, no shame that animal part you know,that primal voice or whatever"
"Oh, like the part of the mind that helps you justify another piece of choclate, when you know it's bad for you?"
  Dean looked up at her. The last time she'd tried humour (Three visits ago), he'd tried to attack her, she'd said something without realising it could trigger him and didn't want to go through that again. (He was terrifying when he was angry, it was weird to sit here and joke with him so casually now, he was so friendly at the moment, it unnerved her)... They had reached an understanding on that matter after she'd apologised and given him a picture from his early childhood that she'd managed to aquire from his father..... She'd never understood why he had killed his whole family with the exception of his father until the twenty third time she'd spoken to him. (It was hard to forget anytime she spent in his presence.) It was really quite simple, respect. He respected his father whereas, in his mind each of his other family members had done something that made him lose respect for them. Something he couldn't forgive. His 'world' was not the same as many other people's but it did make sense if you were able to look at it from his perspective. The way he percieved things was not the problem though, it was the resulting conclusions he reached about what actions to take regarding people and society and also where he saw himself fit in regard to both that caused most of Dean's behavioural problems and had lead him down such a dark path in life.
A charming smile formed on Dean's face, his eye's flashed again as he laughed.
"Yeah that's the one."
She smiled, relaxing a bit. Dean seemed to be in a more stable mood today, she'd been here for twenty odd minutes and he hadn't so much as frowned.
Dean lent forward, his shackled hands were resting on the edge of the desk. He was still smiling but Jane felt her shoulders tense. Dean smirked at this.
"You're pretty and funny," he said smoothly, "My kind of girl."
"Maybe we should get-"
"What I'm not your type?" Dean said with a smile. "I get so many letters from so many chicks but they never come see me."
"Dean I-"
Dean laughed. "No offense ment Doc, you're just one of the only women I get to see." Jane was getting nervous now, Dean was known to be a bit of flirt but he was a murderer! What was she ment to say to that? She hoped he hadn't picked up on it, though he probably had. He was good at picking up on reactions and expressions but she couldn't lose any ground with him.
If he did, he didn't show it, he was picking at the table again, making a nice new chip in it.
"What about other visitors? Your father?" She asked.
Dean glanced up, "Nah, he won't come," he stared at the table, his hands froze above the chip.
"Have you called him?" She pressed. She glanced toward the door to where two guards stood, one caught her eye and his hand moved toward his radio, just in case.
"He doesn't want to talk to me."
Dean was still staring at the table, this was usually a sign of a slow mood shift, at least with these rare occurances there was time to prepare if he lost it.
"Maybe you should write him a letter,-"
"I don't want to"
"Ok.." Jane saw the guard poised to move, she was getting braver with Dean in some ways. She was sure she was starting to get closer to him but that could end up being even more dangerous.
"Maybe your father finds it hard to deal with everything."
"Hard to deal with me you mean?" Dean snarled, he moved forward, bringing one of the gaurds running.
"Daniels! Sit back."
"Fuck you." Dean muttered but sat back with his shackled hands in his lap and glared at the wall.
"Is that what you think?" Jane asked waving the guard away, he stepped back a few feet but remained behind Dean.
"I think they served shit today at lunch" Dean laughed. His face seemed to change.
"Do you want me come back another time Dean?"
"Do whatever you want Doc, ain't like I got much choice." Dean held up his shackled wrists. Jane stayed the full hour without further incident. Dean went back to being hospitable and was flirting with her again by the time she had to leave. The guards waited for her to leave before they would lead him out and back to his solitary cell.