A/N: Time for an update ^_^

Agent Aaron Hotchner loomed over a corpse that was posed at a local playground in Manhattan. His brow furrowed and his thoughts wander. He was caught off guard by Reid, who placed a hand on Hotch's shoulder to steady him. "Deep breaths Aaron," Spencer muttered to his superior. "The kids are always the worst."

The team was in New York, looking for a serial murderer who preyed on kids and managed to transport and split his crimes between both Brooklyn and Manhattan. The BAU was being assisted by Manhattam's Special Victims Unit, and Brooklyns 99th precinct. The team arrived at Manhattan's precinct barely four hours ago when the unsub struck again. A young Caucasian boy was found half buried in the woods. He had the bluest eyes with a vacant gaze that floated near optimism. His blond curls stuck up and out, twigs and leaves ensnared in it. Hotch found himself nodding blankly. He quickly returned to the task at hand when one of Holt's detectives, Peralta, appeared at his side. Jake worried his lip. He cleared his throat. "Normally I have something really snarky, or like, a play on words, when I see a crime scene. My girlfriend Amy thinks it's my 'coping skill' or whatever. But uh, I don't think I can say anything about this," Jake exhaled loudly. "He can't be any older than eight."

Jake's voice trailed off and he frowned, deep in concentration. "It's always the kids man," he muttered, bending down and wiping leaves away from body. He tilted his head. Were children always this small? His thoughts drifted, but he couldn't get that little boys face out of his head. Upon his return to the station, he pulled Amy to the side. "Ames. Am I cut out to be a detective?" he asked seriously.

She started to laugh but was stopped by Jake's piercing gaze. "Jake, you're a great detective," she said reassuringly.

Jake shook his head. "The crime scene today-"

Amy stopped him. "Kids. Are. Different," she said emphatically.

Jake merely shrugged. "I just. Can't get him out of my head," he said.

Amy hugged him sympathetically.

Back at Quantico, Garcia was scrutinizing lists of records. After entering all the names of the victims, she cross referenced all their contacts. She was still coming up dry and her frustration bubbled consistently. She gritted her teeth, skimming articles and case histories with a terse anticipation. Her phone began ringing loudly. Hitting the speaker button in annoyance, she said, "Don't even try me, Derek Morgan, I'm coming up with zilch."

She could hear Derek's smooth laugh. This lightened her mood by a razor thin hair. "Just checking in baby girl," he told her kindly.

Garcia gnawed on her pen, massaging her temples languidly. "I want to find this guy," she told Derek. "I saw photos of the latest victim. His youngest yet. Did I hear that little boy was exsanguinated?" she asked, not really wanting the answer.

Morgan gnashed his teeth together in anger. "I wanna find him, Garcia."

"Me too, Derek."

Spencer had returned to the station house. Lieutenant Benson had reserved a conference room specifically so he could create the geographic profile. He scrutinized maps and case reports, calculating locations and marking them down on a larger map. He tapped his marker on his teeth, lost in thought. He didn't even notice Aaron appearing at his side. "This is good work," Aaron praised.

Spencer resisted the urge to beam with pride. Hotch only gave out such adulation in very rare cases, and when he did, Spencer knows it'll be a Very Good Day. He turned to Hotch. "Thanks Aaron. I really want to catch this son of a bitch. So what I've been noticing is that this guy hunts non exclusively. He doesn't differ between public and private schools, or certain racially prominent neighborhoods. I did notice, however, that all the victims were latchkey children. They walked home by themselves for the most part, making them more vulnerable as a target. The other thing I noticed is that all the burial sites happen within half a mile of a Salvation Army," Spencer observed. "While his comfort zone is large, I feel like this pattern may be relevant in predicting upcoming attacks."

Hotch nodded slowly. "Excellent, Spencer. Uh, great work."

Hotch blushed under Spencer's piercing gaze. The two of them had been feeling out some tensions for several months now, but had no desire or opportunity to explore the stress. Hotch cleared his throat. "Well uh, we should talk later. Maybe after the case," Hotch suggested lamely.

Spencer nodded in return. Someone knocked on the door, and Olivia Benson peered into the conference room. "They've just identified the latest victim," she reports, ushering them into the bullpen.

A CSI tech stood in the middle of the bullpen on a chair. She was exceptionally short, but her gaze was sharp. "The newest victim is Teddy Marken. He was a second grader at a public school in Manhattan. He was 7 years old. His parents reported him missing just this morning when he didn't come home from a sleepover he had with a friend. Teddy was beaten severely. He felt great pain, which was mercifully taken away when he exsanguinated."

The room fell into a solemn silence. People's faces fell. Charles Boyle stepped forward, volunteering to deliver the news to Teddy's parents. Amy swiped at her face discretely, not wanting to be seen in a moment of weakness.

Sonny Carisi turned to Prentiss. "How can someone exsanguinate a second grader?" he asked hollowly.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "When we catch this bastard, is your ADA capable of frying his ass?" she asked sardonically.

Sonny snorted. "Rafael Barba is a pompous ass but the most competent ADA I've had the privilege of working with," Sonny said with pride. "I worked second chair with him on a case. It was an honor, but also a pain in the ass."

Emily's eyes narrowed. Something seemed off about Carisi's casual off-handed critique of Barba. She shook the thought away, returning to the case file she had been reading. "Is he a narcissist?" she asked casually.

Sonny s chuckled. "In a completely vogue, avant-garde kind of way. But he has more humility than most lawyers I know," Sonny couldn't help but grin at the thought of Barba's sharp tongue and acerbic wit. "So, profiling must be interesting," Sonny said, changing the subject before he started kissing Barba's ass in front of a federal agent. He flipped a page in his own folder.

Emily raised her eyebrows. "I suppose," she said reluctantly, "If you don't like staying in your home or having any sort of personal life, then yeah it's the dream."

Sonny laughed wryly. "I don't have a love life," he said curtly.

Emily nodded sympathetically. "Girls aren't into the long legged greasy Staten Island vibe?" she teased gently.

Sonny flushed, and before Emily has a chance to apologize for being unprofessional, he says, "Not really too fond of girls," he said lightly.

Emily masked her surprise. "Well whatever works," she said casually. "Me, I could go either way," she said.

She takes a quick look across the bullpen, eyes landing on J.J. Her heart practically sang with her desire, but she merely repressed the emotion. This unsub was particularly nasty and she needed all her energy and focus to be on capturing them.

Amy scrutinized Jake, who was still rather despondent. She nudged him with her elbow. "Jake. Don't worry. We're gonna catch this dude."

Jake grinned slightly at her usage of the word 'dude.' He opened his case file and skimmed it. He chewed his lip, analyzing the evidence. "I know. I just can't shake that kid out of my mind."

Sonny had made his way into the conference room, and was studying Reid's work intensely. "So this will help figure out where the unsub lives?" Sonny asked.

Spencer nodded. "Essentially yes, geographical profiling and profiling in general helps us find a suspect via the process of elimination. So far, we know this guy has attachments to both Brooklyn and Manhattan. The burial sites are all within 1/2 mile of a Salvation Arm. This could mean he works or volunteers there, or that they once had meaning to his life. We know he abducts near schools and he abducts kids who walk alone." He indicated to the respective spots on his map. "The more that I know, the more accurate this gets," he remarked.

Hotch, who had re-entered the room to check in on Reid, caught the tail end of his geographic profile. After asking for a brief reiteration of the whole deal, Hotch nodded solemnly. "Thanks Reid. I'll tell JJ to release a statement to the media, asking parents to escort their kids home from school until we find this guy," he said, making long strides and disappearing from the door way.

Spencer leaned onto a table, stretching his gangly limbs. Carisi took a spot next to him. "How old are you?" he blurted out.

Spencer's face heated. "I'm uh, in my 30's," he mumbled.

Carisi nodded approvingly. "You're really young," he said, impressed.

Spencer smiled, "Thank you."

Carisi took another look at the map. He put his feet on the conference table and watched Spencer work quietly. The entire force worked relentlessly, and day passed into night. Before everyone began slowly going back to their home or respective hotels, JJ held a press conference for the 9 o'clock news. She stood in front of cameras flashing and humming. "The unsub we are looking for is dangerous, and targetting elementary/middle school students. They are favoring students who walk themselves home or are alone after school for an extended period of time. If you are a parent, I urge you to start escorting your children to and from school until this ordeal is over."

Spencer scrutinized JJ in admiration. She was always so level headed and quick footed. She was strong, but she knew how to fit in. She knew what to say, but could emphasize with the little guy. That's what helped Spencer most of all when he joined the BAU, was JJ's unrelenting kindness. She stepped off the podium, greeting him cheerfully. "What's up Spence?" she asked kindly.

Spencer scrunched up his face. "Do you think dating someone older than you means you have some weird familial abandonment complex?" he asked suddenly.

JJ looked beyond confused, shaking her head, but choosing to answer the question anyways. "Not necesarily. It depends on the gap and the dynamics of the relationship. Why?" she asked.

Spencer's cheeks reddened. "I uhm. Am fostering an attraction-"

"For Hotch," JJ finished. "Everyone can tell. Except Hotch himself," she explained quickly, rolling her eyes in exasperatiom

Spencer shook his head, slightly stunned. "Alright. Well then. Can you tell me if I'm being insane or not?" he asked quietly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

JJ hugged him, taking him by surprise. "Ok, Spence. You're fine. You're not insane. Just infatuated. In fact, the sooner you let him know the sooner you'll feel better."

Spencer smiled at his friend warmly. He rubbed his eyes. "Thanks Jayje."

He wandered back out into the bullpen, approaching Hotch carefully. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Hotch shook his head stiffly in response. "I think I'm going to head to bed," he yawned.

Hotch bid him a goodnight. Spencer left the police station, bidding the remainder of the officers and agents a cheery goodbye. His shoes clicked on the linoleum as he left the police precinct. He started to stroll on the well lit streets. Spencer always had a few curious mannerisms, and one of them was counting his steps as he walked. Distracted and staring at his feet, he was several blocks away when he felt cool steel pressed into the back of his head. His heart raced and his reflexes had him reaching for his gun. "Hands up, Spencer," a rough voice said, ominous and threatening.

The night was calm and empty. The only audible noise, for Spencer at least, was the resounding thud of his heart. He swallowed dryly, closing his eyes, swallowing a scream that was stuck in his throat.

A/N: A relatively short chapter that's most filler, but it's getting there.