Disclaimer: I do in fact own Criminal Minds and all the characters associated with it…Wait…Hang on…Sorry, that's Ed Bernero. Ooops.

Author's Note(s): I cannot tell a lie, the reason I haven't finished my other story yet is because this idea stole all of my attention and I've been trying to write it for the past week. I wanted to try something different. My mission, is to update every two days, and as I've already written the first four chapters that's going to be fairly easy for at least a week :)

This is set post-Gideon and pre-Rossi.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Danse Macabre
Chapter 1

JJ tapped her pen in a relentless staccato rhythm against the table in front of her. In her other hand she held the final typed up draft of her report from their most recent case and was carefully scrutinising it for any omissions or errors.

The room she sat in was not an empty one, besides herself there was a tall man with piercing dark eyes and hair to match. He sat on the chair opposite JJ's and was currently sharing irritated glances with a receptionist, who also sat in the room. The man, who was one of the higher-ups in the FBI, cleared his throat loudly.

The tapping stopped momentarily, "Excuse me," JJ snapped, "If you don't mind, I'm trying to concentrate."

"Listen, Miss Jareau–"

"Agent Jareau."

"Agent Jareau," the man agreed readily, "I just need you to sign it. You've already read through it once."

"I'm just being thorough," replied JJ in clipped tones, resuming the steady tapping of her pen.

"I can understand that, Agent, but as you know we are running on a schedule," said the man, looking pointedly at the clock hanging on the wall.

"I'm almost finished," said JJ through gritted teeth.

The man sighed and shared another annoyed look with the receptionist, who was making a poor attempt at pretending to work whilst she quietly listened to the conversation taking place in her waiting room.

"Your team are waiting for you," said the man, impatience showing in his voice, despite his efforts to quell it.

"What's left of my team you mean," said JJ bitterly.

For the first time, the man looked sympathetic. JJ instantly decided that his pity was far worse than his impatience, so she skipped ahead in the report and signed her name resolutely at the bottom. She then took the second copy of the report and signed that one too. Anyone who was watching might have thought she was angry at the paper judging from the way she glared at it and jabbed it with her pen.

"Thank you, Agent Jareau," said the man, relief evident in his voice. He plucked one of the reports from her hands, "I'll take this one and you can hand that other one to Doctor Miller."

"Fine."

The man stood up and bowed his head in her direction, "Until we meet again, Agent."

A distracted mumble was all JJ could muster up by way of good bye, her attention was too focussed on the ominous looking door that she was only moments away from walking through. She wasn't entirely sure what she was more scared of; talking about it or facing her whole team for the first time since it had happened. She took a deep calming breath and steeled herself against the onslaught of emotions that were threatening to rise to the surface. Out of the corner of her eye, JJ could see the receptionist watching her with a pitying look on her face, and it was more than JJ could stomach. So she took one last deep breath before strolling determinedly over to the room she was so afraid of.

JJ hesitated for a moment, but another quick look at the receptionist gave her the courage she needed to turn that door handle and enter the room.

The first thing that struck her was how the rest of her team looked like they hadn't slept in about six years and she fleetingly wondered if she looked the same. The pure exhaustion was palpable, and it was with a heavy heart that JJ accepted this fact and walked forward to put the second copy of her report on the desk of the psychiatrist that sat before them, surveying them all with polite interest. He smiled at her over his half-moon spectacles and gestured for her to sit down in the only available seat, on the couch next to Emily.

Emily offered JJ a weak smile as she sat down on the opposite end of the small couch, but JJ saw how her firm grip on the walking stick, that she was now forced to use, tightened so much that her knuckles turned a stark white.

"Excellent, now that we are all here I think it's time for me to introduce myself," began the psychiatrist, "My name is Doctor Arthur Miller, and I'm here on behalf of the FBI to perform your annual psych evaluations."

"You say that as though we would have been dragged here regardless of what our last case had been," said Reid sourly from his comfortable armchair in the middle of the room.

Doctor Miller didn't seem at all phased by this attitude, he actually smiled slightly, "You are quite right, Doctor Reid. Had your last case not been so…difficult…you would not have been required to attend this session."

Reid didn't respond, but continued to look almost unseeingly at the man before them through his lifeless eyes.

"Well, I have all your written reports now, but I would like to hear the story from you. Why don't you begin, Agent Jareau? Why did you choose this particular case?" Doctor Miller said, his kind, blue eyes fixing themselves on JJ. He had obviously done his homework if he knew it was JJ's job to sift through the cases.

Shrugging slightly, JJ answered in the most neutral voice she could muster, "The same way I choose every case. They were the people that needed the most help in which the likelihood of an actual serial killer was higher than the other cases on my desk. Where we could be of the most help."

"It all sounds very clinical," said Doctor Miller with a smiling nod.

JJ opened her mouth to say that it wasn't, but quickly shut it. The twinkle of sardonic amusement in the psychiatrist's eyes seemed to increase.

"Okay then, Agent Jareau. Why don't you explain the case to me as it was presented to you," said Miller.

"Or you could just read it in the reports we were all forced to write," said Reid sarcastically.

"I could," Doctor Miller agreed with a slight bob of his head, "But I'd like you to humour me please."

JJ grimaced and began to tell the story.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Okay, JJ. What do we have?" said Hotch, leaning back in his chair.

JJ pointed her remote control at the projector screen behind her and the pictures from two crime scenes appeared. She didn't look at the pictures though, she had already seen enough of them for them to have been imprinted in her brain for a good long while.

"First victim, Gregory Sangster, age thirty, was found stripped and with his throat cut on his front lawn…"

"Is that a…pentagram?" said Garcia, obviously horrified. For some reason the fact that Garcia never tried to hide her feelings was comforting to JJ, it reminded her that there where in fact still human.

"The amount of blood suggests that it was done while he was still alive," Reid commented.

"Why would someone do that to another person," said a dismayed Garcia.

"The second victim, Catherine Jacobs, age thirty-five and mother of two, was found in her kitchen, throat slashed and lying in a pentagram drawn in blood. Forensics haven't come back yet but it looks like it was her own," continued JJ, looking at each of her team member as she spoke, "The first victim was found just over a week ago and the second victim last night. It all happened in a small village called Augusta Falls in Georgia."

As soon as the name of the place had left JJ's lips, Garcia's fingers where moving at the speed of light across the keys of her laptop.

"The pattern changed," Emily observed, then to Morgan's questioning look she added, "The first pentagram was carved into the chest and the second was drawn around the victim. It's just strange."

"You think they may not be connected?" asked Morgan.

"It's a possibility," said Emily slowly.

"Augusta Falls," Garcia piped up, "Population is a grand total of one hundred and eighty. Very rural and very religious."

"That locals aren't going to be happy with us being there and asking questions," Hotch remarked, looking thoughtfully at the pictures up on the screen.

"No, they aren't going to like the idea of the unsub being one of their own," Reid agreed.

"The sheriff and deputy sheriff are very eager for our help, so at least we'll have the entire police force on our side," said JJ, rather cynically.

"The help of one point one percent of the population. Awesome," said Reid with a wry, half smile.

"Garcia," said Hotch, switching to leader mode, "Find out all you can about the victims and see if you can get me a list of everyone that lives in the area."

"I'm on it, G-Man," said Garcia, shutting her laptop with a loud click and standing up to exit the room.

The Hotch turned to the rest of the team, "Wheels up in an hour."

--

JJ loved the jet. She really did. Shortly after she had first begun working with the BAU, she decided that her eventual mission in life was to steal it somehow so she could use it for her own personal holidays and to generally avoid pesky traffic. It was comfortable, it had it's own bar, and it was faster than any commercial flight she could get on. What more could a woman want from her transport? The only problem was Morgan. He had expressed similar wishes since she had known him and it would be stiff competition to steal it before he did. A very small smile curled her lip as she let her thoughts wander to how exactly she would thieve the jet. It was much easier to do that than to think about the case they were soon going to be working on at least.

Naturally, JJ couldn't indulge in her own thoughts for too long before the rest of her team started to discuss theories and previous cases. She had missed the beginning of the conversation but forced herself to pay attention as Reid began to reel off the type of unsub they were most likely going to be looking for.

"The first type consists of teenagers who are rebelling against society and are using the idea of Satan to do so. Their violence usually isn't planned and their intention isn't to do actual harm, but they can become aggravated by drugs or alcohol and that's when violence occurs," said Reid.

"If that's the case then it's not looking like our unsub is a teenager," said Morgan darkly, "This looks like a serial killer."

"That would be type two," said Reid, continuing as though there had been no interruption, "The serial killer who chooses to blame his killing on outside forces. He doesn't kill because he believes in Satan, he believes in Satan because he kills."

Mulling this over, JJ decided she didn't like this idea at all. A peculiar feeling began to settle itself in her stomach, and JJ suspected it was unlikely to leave until the case was over.

"We need to be careful with this one," said Hotch, looking up from the case file in his hands, "Satanic elements can influence even the most experienced investigators, and we're not immune. So keep an eye on the locals and keep an eye on each other."

Everyone nodded and seemed to drift off into their own thoughts. All except Reid anyway.

"Do you believe in Satan?" he said to no one in particular, "An omnipotent being dedicated to the corruption and destruction of mankind."

"I'm not sure man needs the help," said Emily with a raised eyebrow as she looked at the crime photos once again. JJ was inclined to agree with her.

Morgan snorted softly, "That's the spirit."

Emily smiled apologetically and JJ found herself shaking her head slightly with suppressed amusement.

If Hotch had even been listening to the exchange he made no indication, he did however look up again and say, "We should all try and get some rest. I have a feeling it's going to be a long day."

No one saw fit to disagree and they all dispersed to different sections of the plane to either try and catch some z's or have some general quiet time. Even though she tried, JJ found she couldn't sleep. Something about the look of fear on the second victims face was playing on her mind.

Eventually, JJ managed to drift off into a restless doze.

--

Author's Note(s): If you're at all interested, I'm going for longer chapters this time around. Extra detail and suchlike to see if I can't improve my writing.

The place that this is set is fictional…I think. I did however steal the name from a book I'm reading at the moment called A Quiet Belief in Angels by R.J. Ellory. I would recommend it.

I realise that I stole some of these lines directly from Lucky and I apologise for that…But they were just too good not to use. Plus, I have no actual knowledge of satanic crimes and couldn't for the life of me think of anything to add.

On a completely random note, did you watch new Lost on Thursday? I've loved Ben and his baffling ambiguity since he did his little Of Mice and Men speech at the beginning of season 3, but it's now been taken to a whole new level. If Michael Emerson doesn't win an Emmy for that performance I will be appalled and horrified.

Anywho, any constructive criticism will be greeted with a jaunty fanfare.

Thanks for reading,
Rubiks :)