Author's Note: I'm still working on Mountain Creek but I had to start this one. It's something new brewing.

Since season 7 has been sans Peyton, I'll be doing mostly AU fiction that may or may not follow older storylines on the show (unless the creators of the show wow me with Brooke-centered storylines). As always my main focus will be Brooke and Peyton but there will most likely be other character appearances.

Author's Note 2: This story will take place in Birmingham (Alabama) (since I live here and can give better details in the story that way). It will involve Brooke and Peyton.

WICKED GAMES

1

All These Lives

Evelyn Harris called again for her granddaughter to come to breakfast. She grunted as she slipped off her apron and put down her spatula. The eggs were scrambled, the bacon crisp and the orange juice poured. She stared up the stairs again as no answer came from above. She shook her head knowing how hard Nicole had been studying for her midterms.

As Evelyn climbed the stairs she recalled the years she had spent raising her granddaughter after her own daughter and son-in-law were killed in a car accident. She smiled as she remembered the skinny little ten year old trying to rebel against the heartbreaking change.

But, Nicole had changed. She had become a strong young woman, a sophomore in college. In three days she would be 21. Evelyn reached the top of the stairs and once again called out to Nicole. Still there was no answer.

Her heart pounded as she entered the young woman's room. Glass was sprayed across the floor. A chilled fall breeze was entering through the shattered window. A bloody handprint marred the wall next to the window.

Her granddaughter was not in the room, and Evelyn Harris could only pray. She quickly grabbed the phone and dialed 911, knowing her heart could not bear another loss.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Detective Brooke Davis flipped out her badge and the uniformed man in front of her stepped aside with a smirk and a shake of his head. She ground her teeth together. Two years as a homicide detective for the Birmingham PD and she was still being silently accused of not earning her position.

The 27 year old, chestnut-haired beauty who had dimples when she smiled, frowned deeply at the scene before her. It had been three days since the search for Nicole Branding had begun. Physical evidence had been lacking in Nicole's bedroom and Evelyn Harris, who worked nights as a pediatric nurse, had no information.

Brooke quickly reviewed the case in her head. Nicole's boyfriend and friends all had airtight alibis. The only exception was an ex-boyfriend. Brooke shook her head as she surveyed the carnage before her, and knew that they were dealing with something much more sinister than an ex-boyfriend gone psycho.

The small church pulpit in front of Brooke and the people of the Crime Scene Unit had been turned into a sickening, twisted display. The young woman's body had been strung up on a large wooden cross, arms and legs apart. She was wearing nothing but a silver cross necklace. Her eyes were forever open staring into the souls of the invisible congregation that Brooke was sure the killer had imagined as he had lifted Nicole onto the cross.

Brooke could tell by surveying the room that Nicole had been killed on the floor in front of the first row of pews. The amount of blood there was a tell-tale sign.

"Detective Davis, we've got all the pictures we need. Do you want a moment with the scene before we begin to collect everything?"

Brooke turned to Donnie Wallace and nodded silently. He gathered his crew and left Brooke and one uniformed officer alone with the evidence. The uniformed officer, whose name tag read Officer Graham, stood quietly while Brooke investigated the scene. Two more detectives were investigating the alleys beside and behind the church.

Brooke was lead investigator on the case and because of her age and the rumors of how she achieved her detective status there was a lot of resentment from her fellow detectives. Brooke slowly walked a marked path laid down by the crime scene unit. She knew evidence convicted killers and was therefore extremely respectful of it.

She knelt down next to the bloodied carpet where Nicole had most likely drawn her last breath. She swallowed the compassionate knot in her throat and wondered what Nicole had seen as she had been brutally killed.

Brooke looked up at the body and slowly approached it. She knew from the condition of the body and initial reports of the CSU that Nicole had endured two days of abuse and torture. She turned away from the body and closed her eyes. She forced away black and white flashes of a past best forgotten and defeated the bile rising in her throat. The case was going to be overwhelming and nightmarish. Brooke knew she was in over her head, and for a brief second she knew that some of the rumors were true.

She took a few mental notes and committed the scene to memory. Despite her lack of experience and young age, Brooke Davis was still a crime-solver, a police woman, a champion on the side of good. Standing in the darkened church with the smell of blood, and the gruesome display of a life cut short, Brooke knew she would fight tooth and nail to keep this case.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He watched Brooke. He breathed in each step she took as she surveyed the damage he had caused. It made him happy, excited. She was on his set, his montage. He knew the remote birds-eye camera would eventually be found, and it was okay. He wanted her to know she was being watched.

She intrigued him, enthralled him, and provoked him. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her hazel eyes on fire with conviction, and her black suit a stark contrast to her white latex gloves.

Sooner or later, Brooke Davis would know that he was coming for her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke returned to her desk at the station and scribbled some notes into her small black notebook. She examined the crime scene photos that were already on her desk. She loved the CSU of the Birmingham PD. The only people that worked faster were the local news, and they were already pounding the pavement outside of the station waiting for a press conference.

"Davis! What do you have for me?" The gruff voice of Police Chief Whitey Durham resounded throughout the bullpen snapping Brooke from her thoughts.

She shrugged as he got closer, "So far we have a young woman, kidnapped from her home in the middle of the night, apparently abused and tortured, and eventually killed in a church, after which the killer posed his victim."

"Calling card?" Chief Durham asked.

Brooke nodded as she chewed on the end of her pen, "Most likely."

A confident voice came from behind Brooke and the chief, "Most likely a white male, some history of being an abuser of some sort, but probably no record to be found. He's meticulous in his crimes, you won't find one drop of physical evidence from this sick bastard. But you find the object of his obsession and you'll find him."

Brooke was looking at a thin, young blonde with crazy curls wearing jeans, a leather jacket and the most kick-ass boots Brooke had ever seen. She was also sporting an FBI badge. Brooke looked again to the girl's face. She was as young as Brooke.

"By my estimates, Nicole was the object of his obsession," Brooke challenged the blonde.

Her curls shook as she shook her head, "Nope. Nicole is a message. She's not the object of his obsession but rather a sacrificial lamb. He wants to get someone's attention."

Brooke was intrigued, "Someone's attention? You mean, like another psycho?"

"Maybe," the blonde mused, "But not likely. Chances are the person he's obsessing over has no idea. But it will be someone in power, or perhaps someone from a similar background. Maybe even someone he's hurt before. It's someone who stood up to him and he wants that person to back down."

Brooke stood up and shook the young woman's hand, "Detective Brooke Davis, Homicide."

"And lead on this case," she smiled knowingly, "Don't worry Detective, I'm not here to step on any toes. The Bureau thought your team could benefit from profiling."

"And you are?" Chief Durham finally spoke up giving the blonde a raised eyebrow.

"Special Agent Peyton Sawyer…profiler," she said confidently as she flipped open her badge.

Brooke exhaled slowly, "Well, Chief? She's not here to step on any toes. What do you say?"

Chief Durham pursed his lips and then nodded his head, "Fine with me, if you can handle it Davis. Just get to work. I need to hold a press conference by the end of the day and I need to give those hounds something to chew on."

Chief Durham walked away leaving the two women to get better acquainted. Peyton cocked her head to the side, "You're really welcoming considering I'm federal."

Brooke nodded, "Yeah, well, let's just say I know what it's like to be underestimated because of my age and gender."

Peyton smirked at the detective and sat on the edge of her desk, "What do you say we head to the conference room and you can lay it all out for me."

Brooke gathered the file with the crime scene photographs and led the blonde into the conference. Together they sat down and spread the data across the table. Peyton eyed the corkboard at the head of the room and picked up one of the crime scene photos. She pinned it to the board.

She studied it carefully while Brooke studied her. Peyton then turned to find green eyes staring at her intently. She nodded slightly, "What do you see in this picture?"

Brooke stood and looked at the picture. She looked at the way the victim was displayed on the cross, "A lot of religious symbolism."

Peyton nodded, "Such as?"

Brooke paused and looked again at the photo, "Um…well there's the obvious, she's hanging on a cross in a church with a cross necklace hanging around her neck."

"What do you know about crucifixion?" Peyton asked still eyeing the picture, her hazel eyes growing dark as she allowed herself to sink into the scenario.

Brooke thought about the limited number of days she had spent in church, "A sacrifice? It was the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus."

"True, however, Jesus was not the only one killed by crucifixion. It was often used to terrify people into submission. They would have to watch the torture and death of those hanging on the cross."

Brooke thought about the gruesome display in the photo, "So…the killer wanted someone to see this, to suffer because of this? And then that person would submit to him?"

"Something like that." Peyton pinned another picture to the board. "What do you see here?"

Brooke turned her attention to the second picture and grimaced slightly. It was a close up of Nicole's face. Her wide eyes stared back at the photographer, the fear forever etched in the hazel irises. Brooke noticed something she hadn't been able to see at the crime scene, "She has on makeup."

Peyton nodded, "Yes. Eyeliner, lip gloss, and blush."

"She was gone long enough for any makeup she might have had on to wear off. This is fresh."

"Very fresh," Peyton agreed. "He applied it after she was dead."

Brooke exhaled slowly trying to reconcile that fact with the religious overtones of the crime scene. She turned to Peyton, "Jezebel?"

Peyton smiled, "You've got it now. Jezebel applied cosmetics before she was killed, 2 Kings 9:30-33. He's sending a message. He's crucified Jezebel."

Brooke sat down again, "He wanted us to pick up on the Jezebel reference?"

Peyton shrugged, "Not necessarily the police in general. Maybe someone attached to the case."

"If he's using Jezebel as a reference, is he saying that whoever he's trying to impress or scare is also a Jezebel of sorts?"

Peyton chewed her bottom lip. She hadn't thought about that yet, "I don't know. Victimology isn't really my thing. I profile the bad guys, not their kills."

"So, profile him," Brooke challenged as she sat back.

Peyton crossed her arms over her chest in defiance, "White male, mid twenties to early thirties. He's viciously intelligent, most likely raised by an overbearing mother, an overbearing and very religious mother. He's organized enough to know when to take the victim, how to take her, and how to clean up when he's done with her. He's got a goal and he's not as random as he might appear right now. She's not his first and won't be his last."

Brooke's grinded her teeth, as she took in the information, "It's a start at least."

Peyton nodded and sat down propping her envied boots up on the table, "I think profiling the killer isn't going to be as helpful as profiling the victim. Want to give it a go?"

Brooke opened up a folder and scanned the information on Nicole Branding, "She was an all-American kid. She was in college. Her parents died when she was 10. She was raised by her grandmother. She was a good girl. Had a few ex-boyfriends, nothing really stands out to me."

Peyton chewed on the end of a pen she had picked up, "Chances are, the object of our killer's obsession will be similar to her. Maybe not in looks, although that will become clearer with the next victim. But she's all-American, good. Maybe not as young as these victims. He has experienced something with her in the past, either a break-up, or some other kind of dramatic change. She's completely unaware that he knows where she is. He's stalking her without her even knowing it. He would kill her but it would put an end to his sick twisted game."

The hair on Brooke's arms stood up as she thought about being watched. Flashes of the past swept through her mind as she attempted to shut the door on them.

"Brooke?" Peyton was staring at her with kind eyes, "You okay?"

Brooke nodded slightly, "I need coffee. And not the stationhouse crap. I need gourmet."

Peyton slipped her leather jacket back on, "Mind if I join you?"

"Please do."

"Davis!" Chief Durham shouted across the bullpen as the girls exited the conference room, "What do you have for me?"

Brooke shouted back as she was walking out the door, "Give me an hour, boss. We're working out the profile."

Peyton smiled as she watched the challenging gaze Brooke gave Chief Durham. She was unequivocally impressed with the brunette.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He watched her and her blonde counterpart get in the black unmarked sedan. He enjoyed the addition of the FBI to his game. It gave him something to stretch for. He was thankful that instant gratification wasn't his thing, or else he would have had Brooke Davis already. The satisfaction would come with waiting for his Jezebel, his Brooke.