It is dark. From the inside of a house looking at the front door, a shadow appears through the curtain in the glow of the porch light. After a couple of attempts (presumably with the wring key) the door is unlocked. It opens and in staggers a man in his late fifties to early sixties. He is obviously drunk. As he enters, he barks his shin in a small table next to the door and curses mildly. He closes and locks the door, dropping his keys on the table. He continues down the hall bumping into the walls more than once finally reaching the bathroom where he goes in and relieves himself. As he turns he is met by a dark figure. His eyes widen.

Man: Wh…who are you?

Dark figure (very raspy voice): I've been waiting for you, Daddy.

The figure raises an arm and in the fist is visible the metallic glint of a blade. The knife is brought down rapidly and there is a spray of blood across the mirror.

At the BAU headquarters:

Morgan: C'mon kid, who is she?

Reid (trying to remain engrossed in a pile of folders): I have no idea what you are talking about.

Morgan: Reid, don't lie to me man, you've been out of here every night at 5 on the dot for the last two weeks.

Reid: You know I've been teach-

Morgan: I know about the class you're teaching over at William & Mary. I also know that it only meets Mondays and Wednesdays. Where you hurrying off to the rest of the time?

Reid (looking a little more like a deer in headlights than usual): Ah..um..Prep-

Morgan: Preparation? Really? It's a class on statistical analysis, Red. The last thing you need or your students will want is for you to prepare any more.

At this Spencer is broken. He knows it is no use to try to hide this anymore. He also knows he is in for some ribbing. While it's true that Morgan never means any harm, he is so conditioned to feel self conscious that he often still feels like he is back in school…the only 12 year-old in the senior class. Oh and it would be so nice to confide in someone; to be able to share some of recent joy. And Morgan had always been like a big brother to him but….Spencer's mind drifts away to Maggie. The image forms of her sweetness. How carefree and beautiful she is to him. Her long flowing hair and sweet smile and how she always seems to smell of some exotic and intoxicating fruit. Maggie was untouched by the BAU; by everything that went on here. Maggie was his safety and his haven. Spencer is obviously torn but opens his mouth to speak resigned to the fact that he now has to tell Morgan about Maggie.

Hotch: Conference room. Now.

Spencer looks relieved and a little grateful for the job security that is the national crime rate. Maggie could be just his for a while longer.

In the conference room crime scene photos are being splashed up on the boards at the front of the room.

Hotch: This is Walter Fritz. Six weeks ago he was found stabbed to death in his home. His hands and genitals were removed post-mortem-

Morgan (wryly): Thank God for small favors.

Hotch glances quickly at Morgan and then continues.

Hotch: On the wall was this in the victim's blood.

The slide shows a childlike drawing of a house with a family of three in front; father, mother and child.

Rossi: So they have a sicko, why are we just getting the call now?

Hotch (bringing up next slide): This is Ned Dowling, He was found this morning.

As the jet flies…

Morgan's voice: Maybe that's what hell is. You go mad and all your demons come and get you as fast as you can think them up." The author Anne Rice