AN: So as usual I do not own Criminal Minds, nor do I own the Night Before Christmas poem. That is all
Twas the night before Christmas, and this is a first,
Not an Unsub was killing, not even the worst.
Go-bags were put in the closet forgotten,
Time off filled the teams' heads all with cotton.
The agents were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of dying section chiefs danced in their heads.
And Reid with his book, and Hotch with his file,
Had just settled in to rest for a while.
When Garcia's computers awoke with such chatter,
Her phone went berserk to say "something's the matter".
Awayto the Bureau she went in a flash,
Thankful for snow tires that took all of her cash.
The night was alive with the shadows of creepers,
Ready to prey on unsuspecting sleepers.
When she arrived the light of the room was blinding,
Full of computers to give her their findings.
On the screens was a face so dark and twisted,
That he was on the FBI's top ten listed.
The bodies he's strewn behind in his wake,
The team should be here, it just couldn't wait.
Call Hotchner and Reid! Then Morgan real quick!
Then Prentiss! Now Rossi! Man this guy's sick!
Out of their comfortable homes they flew,
Rushing to save people, that's nothing new.
When they are called in the bad guys do flee,
And are then found with much difficulty.
So into the conference room they do go,
To look at the files and see what they know.
And then with words of unknown definition,
Reid finds a clue with great premonition!
As they are ready to go, wheels up in thirty,
Garcia sits by her phone, prepared to be flirty.
Now on the plane over files some look,
While Reid kicks the asses of others at Rook.
They meet with investigators all stressed,
Who have heard of their work and are greatly impressed.
Off to the crime scenes and then to the station,
Wishing for once just to go on vacation.
Something has happened, he changed his M.O.
JJ there's nothing the press needs to know.
The clocks keep on ticking, the hour grows later,
The press has now dubbed the Unsub 'Night Raider'.
Garcia phones in with lists of locked information,
Prentiss finds a connection, they all rush from the station.
The victim is begging the unsub who sneers,
Then come the sirens saying "Help is quite near!"
The Unsub is certain they're on the wrong track,
The victim does sigh when they see the door crack.
Back on the plane the team does go,
They get home to find a new blanket of snow.
Garcia awaits with hugs and kisses,
Even for those her mistletoe misses.
Homeward they go with small tired smiles,
Cars moving fast to eat up the miles.
Their phones all buzz and flash bright light,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"