"Oh…C'mon!…It'll be fun!" Garcia wobbled about on her sequined platforms in the shadowed alcove set between windows flanked by heavy, velvet panels. A lurid, neon sign shaped like a vaguely Egyptian eye flashed acid green through the murky evening light.

"Seriously, Pen? A fortune teller?"

"No! Not a fortune teller…" The tech analyst's eyes glittered with an enthusiasm that almost outshone her abundant accessories. "A past life detector! And! And! Sometimes she can tell future lives, too! Ohhhh…C'mon! Puhleeeeeze?"

The cyber-crime, human trafficking case they'd been working had ended early. It had been one of the rare times they'd needed their trusty tech analyst onsite.

In addition, the pilot of the BAU jet had heard some noises during the flight out to Seattle that had him worried. He'd decided to take advantage of what he'd thought would be a layover of several days to submit the G200 Gulfstream to a complete overhaul and inspection.

So when the case was solved in a matter of hours…the unsub and her subordinates cuffed and booked, the agents of the BAU were at loose ends. Ordinarily they would have treated themselves to a nice dinner and then retired to their respective hotel rooms. The dismal Northwest rain rendered sightseeing an uninviting option.

Ordinarily.

But ordinarily they didn't have Penelope Garcia along for the ride.

"Oh…C'mon, guys! When ever again are we gonna be all together with free time and…and…this!" She swept one arm in an extravagantly theatrical gesture that included the atmospheric weather as well as the shop façade fairly dripping with occult promise.

Glances were exchanged.

"You guys go ahead. I'm going back to my room." Hotch started to turn away when Rossi's hand took a firm grip on his upper arm, not only arresting forward motion, but pulling their boss back a few steps.

The older man spoke with a professorial air. "Aaaaaaron…now wasn't it you who brought up the importance of doing things together every once in a while?" He rested his index finger against his lips, looking skyward with a frown of faux concentration. "What was the terminology you used? Oh! That's right! I remember..." He fixed the Unit Chief with a beetling look that had everything to do with payback. "When you made me have everyone over for a cooking lesson…? 'Like a family.' That was it."

"Dave…"

"Nothing doin', Hotch. We don't get Garcia with us that often. So we're going to take advantage and do this…" Rossi motioned for everyone to accompany him…and they did… "LIKE A FAMILY!"

Dropping his head in mock defeat, their leader acquiesced. "Alright. But I'd really rather order room service and get a leg up on the paperwork."

"Tough."

Penelope led the way, the rest of the team following in single file, Rossi bringing up the rear just to be sure Hotch didn't bolt for a less paranormal pastime.

The BAU profilers entered Madame Sobrani's Parlor of Past Possibilities.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Garcia entered and couldn't help closing her eyes for a moment. For the duration of a breath, really. She inhaled the fragrance of the shop. Cinnamon. Sugar heated to 350 degrees. Heaven.

As Morgan crossed the threshold, he coughed and rubbed what felt like grit from his eyes. The sensations of heat and arid dust wafted over him. He hunched his shoulders, wondering why they ached.

Prentiss's reaction was almost the opposite of Derek's. She breathed in the sharp, alpine scent of evergreens. Her shoulder blades pressed together in an involuntary spasm. But they didn't ache. They itched. As though something were missing…had been torn away, leaving the irritation of a healing scab. Inexpressible yearning touched her soul…but only for a heartbeat.

J.J. stepped into the shop. A small, secret smile blossomed on her lips. She smelled herbs and spicy flowers, powders and a warm, milky scent. A longing crested in her. She stopped herself from reaching out with fingers expecting to encounter…something.

Reid entered with a cynical smile. But three steps deep, he stopped, lifting his nose to the bracing smell of salt and sea. Well, this is Seattle, an ocean port. Inhaling deeply, his eyes drifted shut. He gave his brow an absent-minded swipe…and was surprised the skin wasn't damp with spray.

Hotch faltered as his foot passed the dividing line between street and store. His heart raced. The small hairs on the back of his neck lifted. He knew this scent… It was primal and hot and at once drew him in and repelled him. Confused, pulse pounding, he tried to back away, but a hand in the small of his back stopped him.

Rossi pushed the reluctant Unit Chief ahead of him, wondering why he was being so uncooperative. And then Dave stopped, too. A broad smile settled on his features as a familiar aroma summoned feelings of family. He shook his head to clear it. That's what I get for throwing that 'family' thing in Aaron's face! Tomatoes and basil, warming in the sun. He wanted to go deeper, but something was in the way…reluctant Hotch.

Frowning, Rossi gave the younger man another push, propelling him forward.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The team milled about the foyer, unsure what to do next.

"Hello? Hel-looooo!? Anyone here? Madame Sobrani?" Garcia took the lead.

"Here…. I…am…here." The laconic voice sounded as though its owner had been imbibing quantities of whiskey and tobacco for years on end. Rough and throaty and of questionable gender.

Eyes shining with excitement, Penelope followed the sound through the cliché of a beaded curtain that sparkled and rattled under her touch. It led to another cliché. A darkened room draped and swathed in heavy, jewel-toned velvets. A round table at the center had two chairs facing each other from opposite sides. In one was the undoubted owner of the voice.

Haggard. Hooded eyes. Hawkish nose. A perpetual sneer lifting one side of her lips. But she sported the requisite paisley headscarf and an overabundance of costume jewelry. The clatter of bangles as the woman waved her visitors closer went a long way to make Garcia consider her a soul mate.

"Uh…Hi!" The tech analyst edged her way in, fairly bubbling with anticipation. She loved things magical, touched with occult possibilities. And to be able to bring her teammates with her was almost too exhilarating to bear.

The Sobrani's chin lifted, seeing people lingering in the shadows behind this bright beacon of a woman in a rain-slicked, purple, vinyl coat. She raised her arms in an imperious gesture. "Come! All of you! Come in."

As each passed through the beaded curtain, Madame's narrowed eyes scanned the visitor from head to toe. She remained expressionless throughout…except for two.

She blinked as Prentiss entered.

Held her breath when Hotch did.