Orange light bathed the deserted town block in an eerie glow as rain pounded on the many rooftops. The wind was picking up and trees shook and groaned sounding as if they ached all over. It was a dreary late October night in Salem, Massachusetts.

Three blocks away, a candle was lit in a quaint church. The only occupants were an old lady with a kind face and the pastor, out back waiting for sinners that did not arrive.

'I don't blame them with the weather being bad and all, Father,' said the lady in a quiet voice. 'If I didn't live two doors down I wouldn't be here either.' She shuffled along and lit another votive candle all the while mumbling prayers beneath her breath. The pastor looked down his long crooked nose at the gold-tone watch he wore upon his left wrist. 'I'll wait another twenty minutes and see if anyone bothers showing up. After that I'll call it a night.' The lady nodded as she made her way around the table filled with miniature candles in a variety of colours.

Five minutes later the great oak doors opened and a hooded figure slunk in, drenched with rain, removing bits of branches from its sleeves. A pair of black beady eyes peered around the church, taking in the décor, sinking it all in. Meanwhile the lady had turned around at the sound of the doors opening, the sound of a storm being briefly let in.

'Hello, dear… come on in, that's it. Horrible night out there isn't it?' The lady motioned for the figure to come up to the front, although it hesitated for a moment before ultimately deciding to come forward. In the glow of the lit candles the lady's face softened with recognition. 'Do sit down Annabelle. Are you okay? You look a bit shaken.'

'I'm… I'm fine.' A mousey woman lowered her hood and tucked her dirty-blonde hair behind her ears nervously, her cheeks adorned with scratches and flecks of blood. The older lady wasn't convinced and headed out back to get the pastor. Annabelle was in her early thirties but looked as if she was about fifty. Purple circles hung low underneath her wide eyes and she had a protruding jaw. There was nothing remotely attractive about this woman. She was lanky and oddly proportioned and her ears stuck out beneath her straw-like hair. She drew quick breaths and closed her eyes, praying silently to the floor.

'Child, child… what's the matter?' The pastor had come out of his office in the back, the older lady in tow. 'Mrs. O'Neil said you need… assistance?' Annabelle shook her head, wet, greasy hair falling out of place as she did so. The pastor looked nervously around the church and bit his thin upper lip. 'Alright then. Come with me… its okay, come on up… we'll talk out back… no one else is here… up you go...' The pastor struggled to get Annabelle to leave her position in the front row of pews but eventually succeeded. He shot a pleading look back at Mrs. O'Neil before ushering Annabelle into his office. Once she was seated he quietly closed the door and sat opposite her across his desk.

'Now… what's the matter Anna? What is it this time?' His fingers were lined up perfectly together, hands connected at the fingertips. Annabelle surveyed the room, taking in everything all at once. Crosses, inspirational proverbs, mass cards, paintings… her eyes darted every which way and at this the pastor had to interrupt. 'Excuse me… Anna? What's wrong?' She suddenly came back to her senses, her eyes getting even wider than before. 'I've been bad. I've sinned Father. I've been so bad.' Her voice was slow and faint as she avoided the pastor's gaze. 'What do you mean you've been bad? What did you do Anna?' She started fiddling with her hands muttering a mantra over and over again underneath her breath. She was not answering and the pastor was getting annoyed although he tried not to show it. 'God forgives even the worst sinners. Come clean and be forgiven.' At this Annabelle looked up, her eyes seemed to be glowing the same orange that bathed a corner of town three blocks away. 'I did it. Its over. But I've been bad… I know I shouldn't have… I've been so bad… but it's finally over. He's gone.' The pastor turned white and looked frightened.

'Who's gone?' His voice shook as he spoke. 'You know him. You'll be glad too, Father. It was for the greater good. One step at a time and there will be peace.'

Annabelle reclined in her chair, a grin forming on her taut face. 'There will be peace,' she repeated.

'Anna, who is gone? Please tell me. You'll be forgiven.' The pastor was looking worse by the minute. He was obviously terrified.

'I know I'll be forgiven, Father. I did his bidding. He will be glad and I will be honoured. But it's not over yet.'

The pastor looked confused and sick all at once. He never knew Annabelle to be like this in the ten years he had known her. He listened on intently.

'Lucifer is dead. I found him and killed him. Now there's no gatekeeper to hell. We can't get in even if we tried.'

Annabelle laughed manically, her voice getting louder with every sentence she spoke.

'He is dead. He is dead, dead, dead. And I did it. Oh I will be honoured so well, so well indeed.'

She raised her bony fingertips to her mouth, licking them. It was then the pastor noticed a red residue on them. At this, his stomach turned even more ferociously.

'But,' said Annabelle as she got out of her chair slowly, 'There can't be good without bad, can there Father?' The pastor started to tremble in his chair. 'It's just not fair. No, not at all. He knows it isn't. And that is why it must be done.' 'What must be done? Anna? What must be done? ANNA?' The pastor was shouting now, clearly afraid or what was about to happen. 'He told me….,' she trailed off, her hand reaching into her pocket, 'that it must be done. Cancel out both sides and we will find peace.' Before another word could be spoken the pastor fell to the floor, eyes wide in terror. But those eyes didn't see anymore. And before the great oak doors opened once again, Mrs. O'Neil fell onto the altar, holding a candle in her hand… forced to look out into the storm for eternity.

"What's that smell? It's making me sick." Emily Prentiss strolled out of the BAU's break room only to find Dr. Reid and Agent Jareau carving a pumpkin.

'Oh for the love of God, are you two 12?' She walked over to Reid's desk, newspapers carefully laid out on the surface to protect it from pumpkin guts. JJ reached inside and took out a big glob of innards and seeds. 'It's almost Halloween! We're being festive.' JJ smirked and threw the orange goop into a trash can. 'I can see that…' Prentiss trailed off as she examined the monitor on Reid's desk. A page titled 'How to carve the best pumpkin with just an ordinary butter knife' was pulled up, with detailed instructions. 'Wait, where did you GET this anyway?' She looked at Reid questioningly; his glasses pushed in as close to his face as possible looking like goggles or something. 'The pumpkin? It was by Hotch's desk.' Emily's jaw dropped. 'Don't tell me that's the pumpkin you're so lovingly ripping the guts out of.' JJ picked up a plastic spoon and began gorging out the inside. 'Yep, sure is.' Emily spun around, eyes wide in terror. 'That was for Hotch's son! You know, he is a kid and all and you guys are FBI agents.' Reid and JJ looked at each other fully aware that their mere existence was in limbo. Nothing came between Hotch and his family, not even a jack o' lantern.

Before anyone could do anything Morgan strolled into the room wearing a smile that was instantly erased when he saw the pumpkin. 'Is that what I think it is?' he asked, pointing to it. 'Yes.' Emily was giggling now, realizing how foolish this whole scenario was. Reid and JJ, however, were quite terrified, and with good reason. Reid was young and never really taken seriously. JJ was still quite new, young, and trying to prove that she was a capable agent. The last thing they needed was Hotch becoming upset with them.

'Uhoh, there he comes. What are you guys gonna do?' Morgan looked at the mess.

Reid shut his eyes involuntarily and scrunched up his face as if expecting a blow to the back of his head.

'That's mine, isn't it.' It was spoken as a statement, not a question. JJ nodded, avoiding Hotch's gaze. After a few tense moments the entire team broke into a chorus of giggles, including the culprits. 'It's alright, just… clean the mess up, will you? It smells horrible. And you two owe me a new pumpkin.' JJ breathed a sigh of relief as she and Reid finished off the pumpkin and cleaned up.

'However, there are more pressing matters than a vandalized vegetable,' Hotch said as he pinned several pictures to the wall in the meeting area. 'We just got a call from police in Salem. There was a double homicide in a church there last night, the 57 year old pastor and a 65 year old woman were found strangled to death early this morning by the groundskeeper who came to check up on the property after a storm last night.'

'And this concerns us why?' asked Emily, her voice sounding dull.

'You gotta wait for the punch line Prentiss. There's always one.' Morgan snickered and rested his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair.

'Well, in addition to the two bodies found at the church, a man was also found on a deserted cobblestone street.'

'Let me guess, there's a connection…' pressed JJ.

'Well, the police didn't know. That's why we were called. The man was identified as Jeremy Hickam. The police pulled up his rap sheet and asked around… discovered he was a ring leader in this satanic cult called "The Omen".'

'So the connection is… religious or something?' Emily twirled a pen in her fingers.

'That's what the police figured. But get this… a note was found in Hickam's breast pocket that wasn't consistent with his handwriting and was covered in his own blood.'

Hotch pulled up a picture of the note. It read: 'I am the gatekeeper to Hell. Abandon all hope no more. I am gone, gone for good. Eternal peace is on its way.'

'The unsub did a poor job of making it look like a suicide note,' said Reid. 'Unless the victim wasn't in his right state of mind and wrote this… but then again, the handwriting's not consistent…'

'Garcia analyzed it. It was definitely not a match.'

'So then the unsub just wanted to let us know what this guy was. The "gatekeeper to Hell". Wouldn't that make sense?' Morgan interjected.

'I don't know. That's why we're going to find out.' Hotch collected the pictures back in and put them in their separate manila folders.

'We're actually going to Salem?' Reid asked excitedly. 'So close to Halloween?'

'Looks that way. Don't get too excited Reid, you might hurt yourself,' Morgan quipped as he patted Reid's back and walked away. 'Oh, I'm excited but… all the tourists might make it difficult to get things done.' 'Exactly,' said Hotch. 'It's our job to determine if this was just a prank gone too far or if it's the real deal.'