A/N: Heh, I know it's taken time but I had to bring another project closer to its finish before starting to give my heart to this one. (grins sheepishly)

BUT, first off… Thank you so, so much for those fantastic reviews! (HUUUGS) You've blown life into this story, ya know? So THANK YOU! (hugs once more)

And, of course, thank you so much for voting! To those curious, 'my next CM-story' –poll is still open… (Oh, I'm so not hinting anything!)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting too long, let's go! (gulps nervously) I REALLY hope this one turns out worth the wait!

'First the stalk - then the roots. First the need - then the means to satisfy that need. First the nucleus - then the elements needed for its growth.'

(Robert Collier)

Hello

/ Cody Jones had spent sixty four mornings in uncle John's chilling basement when he woke up to the sound of moaning. He frowned and rubbed his face with one hand, trying to wake up as fast as possible. Cold nestled into his stomach when he noticed that on a mattress quite close to him Luca – a five-year-old boy who arrived two nights earlier with nearly black, shortcut hair and equally dark eyes – was tossing and turning, tears running down his cheeks. Luca was clutching the right side of his stomach desperately, obviously in a lot of pain. The other five children of the basement had gathered around the pained boy, all with worried looks on their faces.

Cody swallowed with severe difficulty, wrapping his arms around himself. "Is he okay?"

Liam, their self-proclaimed leader, shook his head. The boy's brown eyes were a lot darker than usual. "He's ill."

Danny, a boy with wild red hair and green eyes that might've held mischief elsewhere, clearly fought against tears. The child seemed to be shaking. "Mommy… Mommy took me to a doctor, when I wa' that 'ick. My tummy hurt a lot, and the doctor cut 'omething out. Mommy cried, and I wa' 'cared."

Terror flashed through Cody. "How do we help him?"

There was no response. They were all only five years old. How were they supposed to know how to take care of someone so sick?

Then, all of a sudden, Luca let out a sharp cry and turned to his side, curling up to a small ball. When the dark-haired boy threw up loudly Danny yelped, then clasped a hand to his mouth and started to cry. Cody would've wanted to do the same but he was too much in a shock to produce a single tear. All he could do was stare with wide, terrified eyes as Luca threw up again, emitting a agonized whimper.

Like things hadn't been bad enough already it looked like uncle John heard the hassle. The hatch that separated them from the terrors awaiting upstairs opened, revealing the large man's silhouette. "What the hell is this ruckus all about?" a sharp voice growled. It was then the man spotted Luca and the vomit around the child. "Fuck…"

The rest of the children didn't dare to move an inch or emit a sound while the man marched down the stairs, then hauled Luca to his shoulder as if the child had been a mere ragdoll. Luca cried out and held a hand against his stomach as tightly as humanly possible. Uncle John growled and gave the suffering child a hard punch, after which there wasn't a sound. And Cody couldn't do anything but stare.

That was until uncle John sensed him looking. The man's sharp, almost colorless eyes were filled with something the made the child tremble when they bore into his. "What the hell are you gawking at, boy?"

Cody swallowed thickly, struggling to form words. "N-Nothing, sir."

"That's what I thought." If he'd been standing he would've jumped when a large, stinking washcloth was thrown at him. "Do something useful and clean up the mess this brat made." So saying the man was gone. The hatch boomed closed after him.

And then there were only six of them.

They never saw Luca again. /

Derek Morgan rarely had nightmares after cases anymore. It didn't mean that he was growing emotionless. It merely meant that his mind needed to forget so he could cope with what he'd seen and move on.

Because honestly… If he'd seen every single one of the monsters and their victims he'd met in his nightmares, he would've gone insane.

But the case with Joshua Martel as their UnSub was different – it was always different when the victims were innocent children. With his mind's eye Derek could still see the bodies of the five-year-olds, and in his dreams he heard them screaming and crying after help that never came. And then he saw Joshua holding a gun at Spencer before taking his own life.

Needless to say, the sleepless nights those dreams brought along were bound to take their toll on him. But it looked like he wasn't the only one with that problem.

He arched an eyebrow when spotting Spencer slumping to his own chair with the day's tenth mug of coffee. "Long night, kid?"

Spencer blinked twice, appearing somewhat startled, then shrugged. "Sort of."

Far from pleased by the elusive answer Derek let his eyes wander towards the mug. His eyebrows furrowed. "That much coffee can't be good for you."

Spencer gave him a somewhat irritated look. "I know, I know. Too much caffeine can cause difficulty in sleeping, irregular heartbeats, nausea, muscle tension, ulcers, heartburn and headaches." Noticing his snappy tone the brunet gave him a apologetic look. "Sorry."

Derek shrugged and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "It takes a lot more than that to damage my ego, you know?" He then grew slightly more sombre, examining his friend's exhausted face with worried eyes. "But seriously, you've been like a zombie all day – for the past couple of days, actually. What's wrong?"

Spencer stiffened, and Derek could practically see the younger man's barriers rise up. The brunet wouldn't meet his eyes properly. "I just… haven't slept that well lately." Clearly sensing the alarm rising inside his older teammate the genius finally looked at him. "It's nothing you or the rest of the team should worry about, honestly."

Derek opened his mouth but was cut off when the building's security guard – a man of his age and size with black hair and the sharpest blue eyes he'd ever seen – appeared. There was a bunch of twelve red roses in the man's hands. "A delivery guy left these for Dr. Spencer Reid. He couldn't tell pretty much anything about the sender and there's no card, but the package has been investigated and proclaimed safe."

The very little color there'd been on Spencer's face disappeared and the brunet's fingers shook as he accepted the offering. "Thank you."

As the guard left Derek looked at the flowers, one of his eyebrows rising. "You really manage to surprise sometimes, kid." When Spencer didn't respond in any way he looked at the younger man with another frown. The genius looked like he'd just seen a ghost while staring at the flowers with slightly widened eyes.

Derek opened his mouth to speak before David walked in, immediately arching an eyebrow at the flowers. "Now what are those? Do you have a secret admirer?"

With a red hue of embarrassment and a slight frown on his face Spencer put the flowers away. "Something like that", the young brunet mumbled. He then got to his legs with visible effort and began to hurry away. "I…" Spencer cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "There's something I've gotta take care of. If Hotch asks I'm with Garcia."

There was a thoughtful look on David's face as the older man watched Spencer walk away. "What do you think is up with him?"

Derek shook his head, because in all honesty he had no answers. His eyes strayed towards the roses Spencer had abandoned.

Suddenly their color looked all too much like blood to his liking.

Spencer didn't know what Penelope Garcia had been doing before he entered her lair, but she was so worked up by it that she jumped when hearing his steps.

He paused, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Beginning to calm down Penelope gave him a slight smile and shook her head. "No harm done, sweetie. Just… Next time, knock or something. Because you're getting almost as good at sneaking up on people as Hotch."

That actually managed to pull a small smile from Spencer.

Penelope grinned widely. "Ah, there it is! I've missed Dr. Reid's special smile."

Spencer felt slightly lighter for a couple of seconds until he remembered why he'd come to her office in the first place. He swallowed against the blockage that was steadily forming in his throat. "Were you able to trace the number I gave you?"

Penelope winced. "I'm afraid you're not going to like this. But… The number belonged to a man named Douglas Rogers – he died a week ago in a hit and run accident. It's like you'd been called by a ghost. This is kind of creepy." Seeing the expression that flashed on his face she hurried to add "Sorry".

Spencer barely heard. His thoughts were spinning a million miles per hour. "I… Someone tried to call me five times last night. I just… I was wondering what they wanted." Then quickly retreating back into his shell he gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks, Garcia. I owe you a favor."

He was about to leave before Penelope found her voice once more. "Hey, Reid?" She met his questioning look with a frown. "You're… not in any sort of a trouble, are you? Is something wrong?"

Spencer shook his head, doing his best to appear convincing. "Everything's okay. I'll see you later." With that he escaped before she could ask another thing.

Penelope stared at the closed door and swallowed thickly, feeling chills on her skin.

She could still recall all too clearly how she'd been forced to watch when Tobias Hankel tortured Spencer. And that heartbreaking recording they'd made for Spencer's mother once upon a time was still on her computer, haunting her.

She didn't think her heart would be able to take it if he'd end up into such a situation again.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur for Spencer. He did paperwork, drank a lot more coffee, hoped he grinned in all the right placed when Derek and Emily bickered, and worked his hardest to dodge the worried looks sent his way.

He didn't want any of them to worry, not yet at least. Not before he was sure that he wasn't going insane.

How was he supposed to explain to them, anyway, that he'd been feeling that someone was watching and following him since the Martel-case? Far too often there was this dark-shaded car parked right outside the block of flats where he lived, positioned so that the driver could see straigth to his windows. Whenever the driver realized that they'd been spotted the car vanished.

Spencer didn't know if it was a stalker or just a series of weird consequences. Maybe he was just being paranoid. But with the phone calls he got the night before, made by a dead guy…

He stopped in the middle of that thought after taking two steps from his car. The hair in the back of his neck rose as he could've sworn he felt someone's eyes on him. Turning his gaze to the side he froze completely when seeing someone stood by a nearby corner. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. The figure was gone.

A small, tense laughter erupted from Spencer.

Your mind is making tricks on you, he told himself.

Nonetheless his steps were a bit more hurried than usual when he walked through the building's door and climbed up the stairs to his own floor. As soon as he saw the door of his apartment he froze once more, his heart stilling for a second or two.

As it turned out there was a gift waiting for him. Right before his door was a small, black box that had a clown's head sticking out of it. There was a manic grin on the clown's face, and the all too lively eyes looking back at him made his skin crawl.

As though he'd been enchanted he took one step towards the gift, then another. Slowly, knowing all too well that it was a stupid idea to approach the object, Spencer outstretched a hand and touched the clown's chilling face. He withdrew his hand and almost jumped backwards when the head bounced upwards and the clown emitted laughter that made blood freeze in his veins.

It took a couple of moments before he overcame his shock enough to notice the note that'd been attached to the clown's now at least five centimeters long wire neck. There was only one word written to it in a handwriting he couldn't recognize.

'Hello.'

Spencer swallowed and licked his lips, feeling colder than he had in the wind outside.

Ironically, for the first time in his life Spencer wished he'd been paranoid.

TBC, or not?

A/N: Hmm… You could call that a bit creepy, right? (shudders)

Soooo…. (swallows nervously) Was that any good, at all – or should I feed this to my extremely hungry cat? PLEASE, let me hear your thoughts! Awww, c'mon – make the poor, old author happy! (gives puppy's eyes)

IN THE NEXT ONE (if you want such, that is): How much longer will Reid be able to keep his situation a secret when more gifts appear – this time a bit more threatening ones? What does the stalker want with him?

Until next time folks – be it with this story or some other project!

Take care!

kitty: Weeell, in that case continue I shall. (grins) I really hope you'll keep enjoying the ride!

Massive thank yous for the review!