A/N: You all have absolutely NO IDEA how happy you make me. Luckily for us all, my crazy 20-credits of junior-level classes has all but ended and I have nothing to do but work on this story, my original book, and my two summer classes. And grad school, but who cares. I'll put up a couple chapters over the next week and hopefully have quite a bit done before I leave school next weekend.

And thanks to those who voted at Psychfic, I got the Silver Pineapple award for Back to the Future, and felt even more loved.

Also, this is approximately 5 years after Of Psychics and FBI Profilers. I'm assuming that basic technology is stagnant, people have not invented teleportation, and my specific area of choice looks the same 5 years from now.

Enjoy, everyone!

Yes, dear, we're going to have a lovely murderpoo.

– Jessica Marbles, "Murder by Death"

Chapter 1: Erin Strauss: Putting the "Bad" in "Wake-Up Calls" Since...A Long Time Ago

About 6 Hours Earlier

Reid carefully balanced the bag containing the precious commodity he'd run to the store for as he unlocked his car. With a tired sigh he tossed the coffee into his backseat. It'd been a necessary run. If he didn't make it, the ensuing morning would be . . . well . . .

"Sir!" He closed the back door and turned as a woman sprinted up to him. "Can you help me?"

"Um . . . what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I think there might be someone in my car."

"Okay, uh . . . where's your car?" Reid locked his door and followed her to a large Explorer nearby. "Is it unlocked?"

She clicked the button. "It is now."

Reid inspected around the car. "It looks like if there was anyone here, they're gone. But I can check in the backseat for you."

"Please do."

He opened the door, and was tackled by someone who made one of Morgan's tackles seem like a pat on the back. Winded, Reid found the gazillion pound man blindfolding him and cuffing his hands.

"Whoa, okay, what –" Reid finally, breathily, found his voice. "Okay, look, this isn't a good idea. I'm a federal agent, and this –"

"I know who you are, Agent Reid," the man answered, and Reid inhaled sharply as something pricked his arm. Drugs. Not drugs. No. Not good. "Now, just relax." A tingling sensation started to creep through the young agent's limbs as the man pulled him up and into the backseat of the Explorer.

"Well, he's the last one," the female said, from a direction that suggested she was behind the wheel.

"Where're we meeting the 'copter?"

Helicopter? Reid felt the tingling sensation tempered by absolute panic.

"Not too far."

"Good."

Oh, hell. Reid tried to move his mouth to speak, to say anything, to placate the situation, to get them to release whoever else they had – and found his body refused to cooperate.

"What about the one?" The woman spoke again.

"He'll be fine."

"He looks rough."

"An accident was the only way we were only getting him. We'll dose him up at the field. He should be awake by then."

Who are these people?! Reid groaned inwardly. Great. And I was on a roll at avoiding serial killers too.

And where the hell are we going?!

#

Same time, Across the Country

"What am I missing?"

Henry Spencer resisted rolling his eyes. "I don't know, Shawn. But sometimes an accident's just an accident."

"But what about the missing screws? Or the explosion? Or the bullet wound?"

"What motive do you have, Shawn?"

Shawn glared at him over the table, but couldn't quite find a response. Finally, he answered, "You are so frustrating."

"I'm frustrating? Then what the hell are you?"

"I don't know. More attractive? Fun? Awesome?"

"Don't even go there, Shawn."

"Seriously. What am I –" Shawn's eyes locked on a mounted fish behind Henry's head, and –

Fishing poles at the scene –

Newspaper – "Fishing Tournament Winner 1 Million Richer" –

"Mike McFarland Wins Santa Barbara Fishing Tournament" –

Juliet – "The victim was Lesa McFarland" –

"Dude!" Shawn jumped to his feet triumphantly. "I got it!"

"Shaw—Shawn! Do not run out –" Henry yelled at his son's retreating back.

Shawn was halfway to his bike when someone tackled him to the soft grass. About to give a sharp retort about how his father should stop trying to arrest him, he was cut off by a sharp, pricking sensation in the side of his neck.

"Huh?" He got out before his attacker had blindfolded and cuffed him. The roar of an engine announced the arrival of what sounded like an SUV. "Dude, really?!"

"Get the other one. No drugs," his attacker barked to someone else. "I'll be in in a second." Shawn found himself hauled into the SUV, and over the pins-and-needles feeling in his legs he decided that now would be a good time to start yelling – but found that his mouth, for once, was not cooperating.

Something was hauled into the backseat of the SUV, and they started moving. A jerk sent Shawn's lax, uncooperative head slumping onto a familiar, unmoving shoulder – and his panic rose.

Gus?! Where the hell are we going?

Is Mike McFarland this much of a bastard?!

#

A shrill ring cut through the otherwise still night. JJ's hand fumbled for the phone, knocking it off the cradle. As it angrily rang at her again, she managed to locate the speak button.

"Jennifer Jareau," she yawned, trying her best to sound alert.

Agent Jareau, this is Section Chief Erin Strauss.

Just how I want to be woken up. "Ma'am, what's the problem?" JJ glanced at the clock. 3:15 A.M.

Agent Hotchner's vehicle was found a few miles from his home, wrapped around a tree. There was an uncharacteristic note of concern in Strauss' voice. JJ felt her throat clog up.

"God – is he okay?"

Dav – Agent Rossi abandoned his '66 Corvette along the road to his home. A few miles away they found Agent Prentiss' car, also abandoned.

"Abandon – ma'am, what's this about?"

Agent Reid's vehicle was found abandoned in a parking lot not far from his home.

"Ma'am, what's going on?!"

I was hoping you could tell me, Agent Jareau.

"I can guarantee that they haven't signed a disappearing pact, ma'am. And Rossi wouldn't abandon that car."

I know, Agent Jareau. I need you to contact your analyst and Agent Morgan, the only others unaccounted for. Report to Quantico immediately. I cannot stress how bad this looks.

"Are – yes, ma'am." Strauss hung up, and JJ was immediately out of bed and digging through her closet. Will was awake by then, concern scrawled across his still half-awake face.

"JJ. What's wrong?"

"Members of the team are disappearing en masse," JJ summed up. "I have to go in."

Will scrunched his forehead. "Even Hotch?"

"They found his car around a tree."

"God." Will scratched his head. "Be safe, JJ. I'll get Henry off to school."

"Thanks, Will."

"Just come back safe. Be careful."

JJ hurried out the door, dialing Garcia's number as she did. "I always am."

#

Karen Vick was, to put it frankly, pissed.

First, the newly-promoted Detective McNabb had called her around 12:12 A.M. to tell her that she was needed at, of all places, the Psych office. Fully ready to kill both McNabb and Spencer – and steeling herself for the ensuing jail time – she arrived to be blinded by the flashing lights of police cruisers and crime scene technicians, and in the middle of it all was Lassiter's dead, non-flashing sedan.

And now, no one would tell her what the hell was going on.

She finally caught McNabb's eye and he hurried over. "Chief. Um . . . the techs are still going through the office, but – um – it looks like Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara, and Gus, were abducted."

Vick swore, and McNabb looked like she'd smacked him across the face. "How? How could someone get them all down at once?"

"Um . . . the techs found several needles they're going to run for trace analysis."

Great. Now she had two detectives and one half of a consulting team running around drugged up. "Have you heard from Mr. Spencer?"

"Shawn isn't answering his phone, but there's a note on Gus' desk that says he was going over to Mr. Spencer's."

"Take someone and get over there."

"Right away, Chief." McNabb grabbed his partner and headed for a nearby car.

Once he was away, Vick stopped one of the techs. "What's going on?"

"Well, ma'am, it looks as if Mr. Guster was ambushed. We haven't yet learned what Detective Lassiter and Detective O'Hara were doing here."

Vick sighed. There went her opportunity to sleep tonight. "I want a full report as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am."

#

"Hello, Washington Memorial? This is Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. I'm calling to see if you have an Agent Aaron Hotchner admitted with injuries from a car accident? No? What about any other federal agents admitted in the past night? No to that, too? Okay. If any come in, will you let me know? Thank you." JJ hung up. "No luck."

Garcia shook her head. "None at the ones I've tried. Where could they be, Jayje?"

"I don't know, Garcia." JJ let her head fall into her hands. As they sat here, crime scene technicians were scouring their friends' cars in the FBI lab, and another team was combing through the AWOL Morgan's house as well. So now, it was just them. "But I really don't like this."

"Have you had any luck, Agent Jareau?" Strauss' voice echoed from the door. JJ shook her head.

"Nothing yet. None of them have shown up to any of the hospitals or clinics in the area."

Strauss sighed. "The grocery store has provided their security feed from the parking lot where Agent Reid's car was found."

Garcia literally snatched the DVD out of Strauss' hands and slipped it into one of her computers. They watched as Reid pulled up and left his car, returning a few minutes later balancing a few cans of coffee. Neither JJ or Garcia could help a small smile.

Just after he closed the passenger door, a woman approached him. They exchanged a few words, and he followed her to the large Ford Explorer just visible in the corner of the screen. Maybe a minute later, the Explorer vanished – and so did Reid.

"I'll get an APB out on the car," JJ said, immediately opening her phone. "Can you get a good view of the woman, Garcia?"

"I'm working on it." Garcia began rewinding the footage until she could start zooming in.

"Just let me know when you have any news." Strauss turned and left. Garcia glanced up at JJ.

"Is it just me, or is she concerned?"

"Most of our team just vanished, Garcia." JJ held up her hand. "Hello, this is Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I need to issue a nationwide APB . . ."