Chapter Two: Don't Look Down

Jennifer Jareau peered out the window of the jet and smiled. She didn't think she'd ever get tired of the sight of fluffy, white or streaks of pink clouds, the sun almost racing them it seemed as a bright orange disk and the brilliant blue of the sky.

She looked around at the other members of her team. Aaron Hotchner was talking quietly to Emily Prentiss. Morgan had his headphones over his ears, head bobbing slightly to whatever he was listening to while Reid sat across from him reading a book.

David Rossi was sitting beside JJ, having taken the aisle seat and he appeared to be asleep- eyes closed and hands folded on his belly.

Brentwood, Washington- their destination- was a very tiny, close-knit community, barely a speck on the map. The small size of the town wasn't to be underestimated though; the team had received the run-around from as many killers in blink-and-you'll-miss-them towns as in any major metropolis they'd been to.

JJ hated going into a case without knowing anything about it. That always worried her because more often than not, what seemed like routine would end up more complicated than they'd expected it to be.

That's the trick to this job, JJ thought, nothing is ever routine. She sighed and pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail, coiling it around and releasing it at the base of her neck.

"Nervous?" Rossi's voice startled her slightly.

"Why would I be?" JJ asked. One of Rossi's dark brown eyes was open as though he planned on going back to sleep.

The older agent shifted farther up in his seat, "you're playing with your hair."

JJ nodded. She rarely touched her hair on the job- it'd be considered unprofessional- and wasn't surprised that Rossi had noticed.

"I just hate going in blind, you know?" JJ explained, "I like to know what we're going to be getting ourselves into."

Rossi chuckled a little, "we never really know what's waiting for us. I think it spices things up, to be honest."

JJ smiled. She shook her head a little and looked back out the window. She felt Rossi's warm palm on her hand and glanced back at him.

"Do you regret coming back?" he asked her more seriously now.

"You guys are my family as much as Will and Henry are. I just didn't feel comfortable at the Pentagon; you know… they're just all business over there and kind of cold. I liked the job, of course and the people but nothing could replace my team," JJ told Rossi and the older agent smiled.

Rossi nodded and his eyes slipped closed, he didn't remove his hand from JJ's though and she didn't mind.

W

The airport just outside of Brentwood was a tiny thing. It was in the middle of a field and JJ saw two small single-engine planes on the tarmac.

"We'll be meeting the Sheriff at the police station in town," Hotchner said as the team filed out of the jet.

JJ was silent on the way to the station. She was nervous and she didn't know why. Normally she was calm and collected during a case but now she felt particularly on edge.

JJ turned her attention to the scenery outside of the big black department-issue SUV she was sitting in with David Rossi as driver. She peered at the quaint shop fronts and mom n' pop restaurants and diners that made up downtown Brentwood.

The police station- the nexus of law and order in the small town- sat between a small greengrocers and a theatre showing the outdated film, 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'.

Parking along the curb, the three black vehicles containing the team, earned half-curious half-nervous stares from the townsfolk.

JJ smoothed at her long blond hair before stepping out of the car.

"You look great," Rossi offered and JJ blushed.

As soon as the entire team was assembled and standing on the sidewalk, a police officer stepped outside to greet them. He was a young guy, maybe in his mid- to late twenties, JJ guessed, with short blond hair and eager blue eyes in a clean-shaven face.

"Deputy Akerman," he introduced himself and held a soft hand out to shake.

"I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner; these are SSA Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi Jennifer Jareau and Dr. Spencer Reid," came the reply and the Deputy's eyes bugged out of his head.

"Sure is a lot of you," he muttered and smiled anxiously.

Hotchner nodded, "is the Sheriff ready to meet us?"

"Oh, oh yes," the Deputy started as though he had completely forgotten why they were there.

These murders must really have shaken everyone up, JJ thought as she followed the rest of the team inside. She felt bad for the young Deputy. This is probably the first time Brentwood's experienced such a gruesome crime.

JJ looked around at the interior of the station. She counted five officers, excluding the Deputy and the as-of-yet-unknown Sheriff.

Small force. Certainly this town only sees petty crimes.

Deputy Akerman knocked quietly on a grey door at the end of the room, "Sheriff, the team from Quantico is here."

The door opened to reveal a very short, thin woman with grey hair but hardly a crease on her youthful face.

"I'm Sheriff Vita Tuttle," the woman said in a surprisingly high, soft voice.

Once again Hotchner introduced all of them and the Sheriff moved from the doorway of her office, "it's far too small in there for all of us."

"Do you have anywhere we could set up?" Hotchner asked and the Sheriff peered around the station as if only now realizing that they needed somewhere to work.

"There's an empty room that's used mostly for storage," Sheriff Tuttle offered apologetically, "I can have some of my men move the boxes out of the way."

Hotchner smiled, "that would be wonderful."

JJ smiled lightly; it was always difficult to investigate cases in small towns because they lack resources the bigger cities seemed to have. It really was a shame that the team even had to come to small, close-knit communities like Brentwood in the first place. Serious crimes such as murder always shook these villages down to their foundations and created animosity, suspicion and hatred among the normally friendly residents.

Once the storage room had been cleared out and the boxes replaced with a card table (yes, a card table) and a dry-erase board, Hotchner got right down to business.

"David and Reid, I want you two at the dump site," he directed with his usually no-nonsense tone, "see if you can find out anything important there."

"JJ, I want you and Morgan to go to the coroner's and examine the bodies," JJ and Morgan nodded in tandem.

"Prentiss and I," Hotchner instructed, "will interview the couple who found the bodies."

Hotchner explained, "Call me if any of you find anything."

Everyone agreed and exited the station.

JJ slid into the passenger's seat as Morgan sat in his usual, driver's seat.

As the pair set off toward the morgue, Morgan shook his head.

"What?" JJ asked, looking curiously at the black agent.

"Never had a case with so little evidence," Morgan muttered.

"We've been called to investigate a lot less," JJ countered.

"Yeah, but, I mean the bodies… we don't know anything about them, don't know their gender or how long they've been in the ground," Morgan explained the reason for his frustration, "those bodies could be years old."

"Even if they are, we still need to find whoever killed those people," JJ reminded him.

"I know, JJ, I know," Morgan wiped a hand over his face, adjusted his dark-tinted sunglasses, "It just pisses me off, you know?"

JJ nodded, "I don't like it either."

The rest of the drive was silent. The morgue was a single-storey building, its grey concrete sides hidden almost completely by creeping ivy. The hospital beside it, although redbrick, was likewise obscured by the bright green plants.

Morgan took off his sunglasses and he and JJ walked into the morgue building. The interior was sterile and stark- grey tile floors, whitewashed walls and ceiling shining down fluorescent lights- and deathly quiet.

The two agents made their way over to a conservative wooden receptionist's desk and showed their badges.

"SSA Derek Morgan and SSA Jennifer Jareau," Morgan spoke and the receptionist nodded.

"You're here to see the bodies that were found this morning?" the elderly woman asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," JJ answered. The receptionist was indeed old, with a deeply wrinkled face and fluffy white hair that had thinned badly. She wore a floral blouse with padded shoulders and grey dress pants. Her feet were covered by black loafers.

"Just let me call up the coroner," she said and dialed a three-digit number into the phone at her desk.

Morgan leaned an elbow against the desk as they waited. He raised his eyebrows at JJ and she just gave him a look that said 'whatever happened to being professional?'

"The coroner will be with you in moment," the elderly receptionist told them, staring myopically at the agents.

"Thank you," JJ said and both she and Morgan turned to peer down the only hallway in the building- a long corridor with numerous doors on either side- to wait for said coroner.

Both agents looked up when they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.

A middle-aged man with a receding hairline appeared, white lab coat flapping behind him and tennis shoes squeaking on the floor.

"Agents?" the man held out a hand, "I'm Dr. Stone."

"We'd like to take a look at the bodies that were found this morning," JJ explained and she caught a look of horror flash in the doctor's eyes before it was replaced by professional indifference.

Dr. Stone motioned for the agents to follow and Morgan and JJ complied, the doctor leading them down the long hallway.

"As you can see we're a small town, an old one, but we haven't grown much… a lot of people move away, go to Seattle or Tacoma- the bigger cities, you know- I guess they find the small-town atmosphere stifling," the doctor rambled and the agents let him.

"Nothing like this has ever happened in Brentwood… it's just… why would someone do something like this?" the doctor asked, looking at Morgan and JJ in turn.

"That's why we're here- to find out why those people were killed and to stop it from happening again," JJ said and Morgan nodded in agreement.

"When we find out about the victims we'll have a clue as to who killed them and why," he added.

The doctor nodded as though unsure of the two agents and suddenly opened a heavy metal door at the end of the hall.

The morgue was chilly inside but not uncomfortably so. Both agents had been in many such places before so it coolness of the room didn't bother them.

Along one wall were steel refrigerated drawers which held most of the dead bodies. There were four stainless steel tables in the middle of the room which four white sheet-shrouded bodies on them. A desk piled high with papers of all kinds took up the rest of the available space.

"These are the ones found this morning," Dr. Stone gestured with one hand.

"May we?" JJ asked and the doctor nodded, walking over to the closest covered bodies and pulled the sheet down all the way.

The victim was a female, probably in her late twenties to early thirties. The first thing the agents noticed was that she had deep bruises all along her torso and lacerations on her arms and shoulders.

Morgan slipped on a pair of latex gloves and peered closely at the victim.

"She was starved- her stomach was completely empty when I examined her," Dr. Stone offered.

Morgan nodded and JJ stood back, arms over her chest, watching silently.

"What about sexual assault?" Morgan asked.

The doctor shook his head, "didn't find any evidence of it at all."

"Hmm," Morgan muttered.

JJ knew what he must be thinking because she was thinking the same thing: no sexual assault usually meant that the unsub was impotent. But usually, if that was the case, the victims were more often than not found stabbed to death, not strangled.

"Maybe he gets off on strangling them," Morgan suggested

"If that was the case with all the victims than I'd say you were right," Dr. Stone interrupted.

"What about the others, doctor?" JJ asked.

"She's the only female," the doctor pointed to the woman.

Both Morgan and JJ raised their eyebrows, "what?"

The doctor nodded and covered the woman back up. He pulled the sheets off the last three victims and indeed they were all male.

"Damn," Morgan breathed, "this just gets more and more complicated."

All the victims had been starved and tortured; all strangled to death.

Morgan ticked off the list on his hand, "There's no ligature marks on them though… Do you think that they were strangled by hand?"

JJ just shrugged.

"It's gotta be the same guy. Sure, they're not all the same gender but they were all found in the same grave," Morgan spoke aloud as he thought.

"Doctor, when do you place the time of death," JJ asked. None of the victims had displayed severe decomposition yet.

"A couple of weeks at the latest," the doctor said, "it's hard to tell. It appears that this young man was the first victim."

The doctor pointed to a victim who had long, stringy mousy brown hair, brown eyes and at least a couple of week's worth of beard growth.

"Have you identified any of the victims yet?" JJ asked.

The doctor shook his head, "no but I can tell you that none of them are native to Brentwood."

"Maybe there's a distinguishing mark on one of the victims that will tell us who he or she is," Morgan suggested.

The doctor's face brightened somewhat, "now that you mention it, the woman has a tattoo on her lower back."

W

Morgan called Hotchner and relayed all the information they had gathered from the coroner. He also sent the picture of the woman's 'tramp stamp' he taken with his cell phone to Garcia in hopes that she could match it with someone.

"I'll try my lovelies, but let me tell you, roses are more common than you think," the technician had warned them before signing out.

"Let's hope the others have found something useful," Morgan grumbled.

"At least we know who the unsub prefers," JJ said sarcastically.

"Yeah," Morgan consented, "how many people pass through here every day, do you think?"

JJ shook her head, "I can't even guess."

The two agents fell silent as they continued the drive back to the police station. Each hoping they'd be able to find the unsub quick, as it seemed he had little or no cooling off period if all the victims had been killed within the past couple of weeks.

Morgan's jaw was tight. It didn't matter that sexual assault had not been used as torture for any of the victims- no one should be starved and beaten- and dumped in some mass grave to decay like pieces of garbage.

Morgan's hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

JJ couldn't help but think of her old job at the Pentagon- at least there she didn't have to deal with serial killers- but the evil that men did to one another followed her anywhere she went. At least as a part of the BAU she felt more useful than sitting in a cubicle trying to determine what constituted an act of terrorism against the United States and who could be considered a terrorist.

No, now she was back to catching serial killers in small one-horse towns where everyone knew each other and no one was willing to talk, especially to the Feds.

Just another day at the office, JJ thought, and sighed before pulling her hair into a tight ponytail with a navy blue scrunchy

SPN

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

"I don't know what to tell you, Dean," Frank said apologetically, "I just can't get a solid location on Sam's phone."

"Well, what the fuck does that mean?" Dean snapped, "If you can't pinpoint where-"

"It means, Dean, that your brother's phone has been tampered with, broken," Frank snapped, unexpectedly.

"Shit Frank! What am I supposed to do?" Dean snapped right back. He had driven back to the house he and Sam had been squatting in while Frank had tried several times to locate his brother.

Now Dean paced around the empty living room- his boots leaving scuff marks on the dusty floor- as he pressed the phone to his ear painfully.

"We've got other things to worry about, Dean," Frank said, "the Leviathans-"

Dean practically growled, "I don't care if those fucking Leviathans are taking a road-trip right to my front door… I want my brother back so unless Dick Roman and his pals have something to do with Sam's kidnapping I don't want to hear another word about them from you. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah I get it," Frank muttered, "Sheesh."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "Please, Frank, help me find my brother. Sam's the only thing I have left."

Dean didn't like baring his soul to anyone, much less a paranoid, fat-ass excuse for a hunter but he needed Frank's help.

"I'll keep tryin' Dean, alright," Frank acquiesced, "but I ain't promising you any miracles."

"Yeah, okay," Dean sighed, "thanks."

Dean still held onto the faint hope that his brother had just lost track of the time and would come through the front door with a sappy, apologetic look on his face and a bacon double cheeseburger in hand but Dean truly didn't think that was likely to happen.

SPN

"Can't see anything special about this place," Rossi commented as he and Reid stepped out of the black SUV and onto the roadside.

"The field's still a half hour walk from here," the young doctor commented.

Neither man was looking forward to the long journey to the dump-site. The officer the Sheriff had instructed to accompany the two agents was an older man with a bald head and a sandy-coloured moustache and heavy-lidded blue eyes.

"It's not a long walk," the officer said and headed off through the underbrush of a forested area beside the road- trails and deer paths cut through the woods, indicating it was used regularly by hikers and so wouldn't be too bad to walk through- unfortunately, neither Rossi or Reid had adequate footwear.

The two agents took of behind the officer, silently both thinking 'what had they gotten themselves into?'

The old agent and the young doctor trudged along after the officer but were aware of their surroundings- noticing every little detail of the forest- the sounds of the birds, how well-trod or not the paths were, and the lack of other people.

"Are these trails used very frequently?" Reid panted as he and Rossi followed the officer.

"Fairly so," the officer answered and wiped his forehead with a blue handkerchief.

"Do you know who usually comes out this way?" Rossi piped up. His salt-and-pepper hair stuck to his brow and his face was beginning to turn red with exertion, his expensive dress shoes were a lost cause- already covered in mud and his pants beginning to attract burrs and thistles.

The officer shrugged, "we don't really pay much attention to who comes and goes, if that's what you mean. These are open to the public and we get everyone from families out for walks with their kids and dogs to experienced hikers."

The two agents nodded. So anyone and everyone came out this way. That only made the profile more complicated. Hopefully they'd find something useful at the dump-site.

W

"Well, here it is," the officer stopped on the edge of the woods. Before them was a large field of long grasses that waved pleasantly in the early morning breeze.

Rossi peered around and thought that if not for the dump-site of a possible serial killer, the meadow would have been quite nice.

The grave was easy to locate- the grasses had been crushed by the many trampling feet the medical examiner and coroner, the police, the joggers who had found the bodies.

The grave itself wasn't very deep but it seemed well-crafted, there were signs of shovel marks in the soft earth.

"Those people were all kinda piled in there, like cordwood or somethin'" the officer offered and took a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his uniform shirt. He offered the agents a cigarette but both declined.

"Are there any photos of the grave as it was first found, before the bodies were removed?" Reid asked and the officer nodded.

"We took pictures, so did the coroner," he said and took a deep drag of the cigarette.

The young doctor's mind was working a mile a minute: the burial of a body usually meant that the unsub had remorse or felt guilty over what he or she had done… but dumping the victims in a communal grave like 'cordwood'- to use the officer's word- was at the complete opposite end of the spectrum.

Could be he just didn't want the bodies found, Reid reasoned.

He looked away from the grave and noted the vegetation in the field- tall sawgrass with patches of crabgrass, Queen Anne's lace and thistles- which was by all means relatively unremarkable and forgettable.

"Reid, come and look at this," Rossi was crouched down by the gravesite and was poking at something with the end of his pen.

"What is that?" Reid hunkered down beside the older agent and peered into the grave.

The young doctor felt slightly sick when he realized that Rossi had uncovered a human bone. The bone had been picked clean by scavengers and was a dirty brown colour.

"Is that a femur?" Reid gulped. There may be more bodies in that hole!

Rossi straightened, "Officer, we are going to need someone to come and dig deeper into the grave- it's possible that there are more bodies in it- and call the medical examiner and coroner while you're at it."

Rossi replaced his pen in his pocket, brushed his hands off and raised an eyebrow at Reid, "Looks like this case just got more interesting."

SPN

Dean decided that he shouldn't worry- or at least worry but also do something other than wearing a hole in the floor of the living room as Frank tried over and over to locate Sam- and try to figure out who or what had taken his brother.

Dean pulled the laptop out of Sam's duffle bag, grabbed his car keys and headed down the street to that little diner he'd visited earlier- where they had free Wi-Fi and breakfast was served until noon hour- killing two birds with one stone, effectively.

Dean reasoned he wouldn't be doing his brother any good if he neglected to eat and sat in that big, empty house wringing his hands instead of actively searching for him- or else searching for a clue as to where Sam could be.

He pulled into the parking lot and stepped out. Dean held the laptop under one arm as he pushed the door of the diner open and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that 'Susie' the waitress wasn't inside.

Shift must have been over; Dean thought gladly and moved to a booth at the back.

A different waitress came over and asked Dean if he wanted anything- she was middle-aged, with dark hair that had streaks of grey in it, large doe-like brown eyes with crow's feet at the corners and a wide, smiling mouth. Her nametag read 'Charlene'- and he only wanted coffee as he pondered over the menu.

Dean set the laptop on the table, booted it up and typed in the password.

He should look into the history of the town first- see if anyone had died violently or mysteriously, if there were no Native burial grounds nearby, etc.

Dean closed the laptop halfway as Charlene returned with his coffee, "ready to order yet?"

"Yeah, the special would be great," Dean gave the waitress a charming smile.

The waitress nodded, wrote the order on a pad of paper and wandered off to let the kitchen staff know.

After researching for ten minutes through electronic records for the town of Brentwood, Dean sighed in frustration. He wasn't great at the research thing- it had always been Sam's job- and he had come up with absolutely nothing.

Maybe I should go to the library; Dean mused and sipped at his coffee. He shuddered at the thought- Dean hated libraries: they were always dusty and dreary and boring. He hated all those stupid cards and codes for the Dewey Decimal system and he could never figure out how to work with the microfilm. The only times he dared set foot in such places were when he was in Sam's company because the nerd knew how to use all that crap.

"Ah Sammy, you picked a great town to disappear in," Dean sighed and looked up when Charlene brought his food over.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Dean said, closing the laptop and setting it aside.

"Enjoy," the waitress said and topped-up his coffee.

As Dean ate he kept his ears alert for any conversation he could eavesdrop on. If Dean knew anything about small towns, it was that the best information was not found in a stuffy old library but more often than not in the gossip of the residents.

The diner wasn't packed- the patrons that were there were probably regulars- but Dean didn't mind, that only made it easier to concentrate on a particular stream of conversation if and when he found one.

As Dean munched away at his breakfast his face scrunched in concentration- there was little gossip happening and he was becoming disconcerted- until a couple of older women entered the diner and took the booth in front of his.

"Did you hear that Faye's niece and her husband found a body just off that hiking trial?" the first woman whispered to her companion.

"No! Oh my gosh, how horrible!" the second woman exclaimed.

The two halted while a waitress took their order for tea and coffee respectively and then went back to their grisly topic.

Dean chewed slowly; alert for any evidence these two women could inadvertently provide him. Charlene appeared with coffeepot in hand and he motioned for her to fill up his cup without speaking.

"Mmhm, it was early this morning," Woman # 1 continued, "they're little terrier, Dixie, actually found it."

"Is the Sheriff investigating?" Woman # 2 asked.

There was a pause as the waitress brought the ladies their drinks, "of course she is! You didn't grow up here, Ruth, but nothing like this has ever happened in Brentwood!"

Dean gulped down his coffee and shoveled in the last forkful of food. He grabbed the laptop, slipped some bills onto the table and dashed out of the diner.

Looks like I'll be visiting the morgue after-hours tonight, Dean thought as he sat the computer in the passenger seat of the car and pulled out of the lot.

"I heard also, that the FBI has sent a team of agents to help find out who did this," Woman # 1 spoke softly after Dean had left.

"Hopefully they find the monster," Woman # 2- Ruth- said with apparent venom in her voice, "this is such a nice, friendly town."

"Yes," Woman # 1 agreed.

There was a pause, "do they know how the victim is?"

SPN

Sam jolted awake. His body jerked at the sudden arrival of consciousness. He opened his eyes and blinked- he couldn't see!

For a second his heart beat in panic- he was blind!

Slowly, the darkness lightened to a murky grey.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear it and when his vision did not improve he knew something was seriously wrong. He was sitting on a cold floor with his hands behind him. He tugged and felt the chill metal of chain binding his hands. More chains secured his legs at the ankles and were wrapped around his abdomen. He couldn't move!

Taking slow breaths to try and calm his pounding heart, Sam assessed his situation. He tried to wiggle his hands but they were pinned too tightly. He noticed he wasn't wearing his jacket anymore, or his boots. His cell phone and knife and lock-pick were gone as well- being hidden in the coat pockets.

Sam's head pounded with a headache as though someone had given it a few good whacks. He couldn't take very deep breaths because of the chain around his chest, couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs to be comfortable.

"D'n?" Sam called out softly, hoping halfheartedly that his brother was there with him- wherever he was.

Silence was the only response.

Shit. Where am I? Where's Dean? How did I get here?

Sam remembered fighting with his brother- recalled the miniature shouting match before he had turned and walked away, deciding to go cool down before he did something rash.

What had they even been fighting about?

Sam's brow furrowed in concentration and then he remembered- he'd found news articles about Dick Roman in the laptop's search history after Dean had promised not to obsess over the bastard.

Ah, Dean. Sam wanted to get back at that Leviathan son of a bitch just as much as his brother did but he also had learned his lesson about being revenge-driven. He didn't want Dean to make a mistake that he wouldn't be able to take back.

He remembered wandering around for about a half an hour before stopping at a little diner he'd seen earlier that day as they drove into town. He thought about that guy who'd been watching him, trying to be covert about it too.

Sam almost smiled at the memory. The guy thought Sam didn't know he was being watched. Sam would have laughed out loud if he had been in the mood, if the guy hadn't creeped him out. Sam just didn't know who or what the guy was. Really, he could have been anything- take your pick: vampire, Leviathan, fellow hunter, average weirdo.

And now Sam was stuck, trapped and chained down, unable to move. It didn't take a genius to realize what had happened. The guy probably wasn't a guy but some creature thinking Sam would make a nice snack.

Sam tugged at his bonds and cried out in futile desperation that anyone would hear, "Hey! Hey, help! Dean! Help!"

Fuck, Sam thought furiously, how the hell do I get myself into these situations?

He tugged at the chains around his wrists, biting his lip as he struggled to make his hand as narrow as possible. Sam knew he wouldn't be able to slip his hand through on its own, he might even need to break his thumb- but if he could free one hand, the rest would be easy- but his bindings refused to loosen even a tiny bit. The chains were far too tight, pinching Sam's wrists and making his hands tingle unpleasantly.

The human survival instinct and the old Winchester stubbornness kicked in and although Sam knew it was futile, he continued to pull at his bonds, hoping to at least loosen them a little if nothing else.

Sam had no idea what kind of monster had captured him and Sam did not want to wait around to find out. He would be practically defenseless against it and there was no way in Hell he was going to make the creature's meal easy for it.

He peered around, still unsure of where he was. Sam could make out the dark shapes of what might have been boxes or pieces of furniture- he really couldn't be sure. He might be in a cellar or basement or even one of the storage units people rented out.

Sam ground his teeth.

C'mon, c'mon, he thought desperately as he tried to slip his hands through the cold chains.

"Fuck," Sam groaned, making no progress at all and only succeeding in rubbing his wrists raw.

Where are you Dean? I can't do this by myself! Sam tried to project his thoughts to his brother- knowing he was crazy in thinking such a thing would actually work- but trying to keep his spirits up and hoping Dean wasn't still asleep or pissed at him and not even aware he was missing.

SPN

Hotchner kept his expression serious yet tinged with sympathy as Sonya and Karl Freeman recapped the hike and discovery of the bodies.

Aaron Hotchner and Prentiss sat side by side, not quiet touching, on the Freemans' beige couch, ignoring the Jack Russell Terrier named Dixie, which growled at them from the carpet.

Sonya dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex, "We didn't know what she was after at first. Dixie's always digging junk up when we go on walks… we thought she had found a dead animal- a squirrel or bird- but then we saw… the girl."

Prentiss leaned forward, "Did you know it was a girl at first?"

Karl shook his head, "We just saw the, uh, arm but then Sonya noticed the nail polish on the fingers," he paused to hug his wife tight to his side, "and then we called the Sheriff."

"Did you go near the body or try to touch it?" Hotchner asked.

Both Karl and Sonya shook their heads.

"I grabbed Dixie and we headed back to the road," Karl explained, "We didn't want to be near… the body, you know."

Hotchner nodded, "Did you happen to notice anything unusual on your walk this morning- in the forest or at the dump site?"

Sonya's smooth brow furrowed, "Dump site?"

"Where the body was left," Prentiss said softly.

Sonya shook her head, "We left pretty quickly, we just wanted to get Dixie away."

Hotchner spoke up, "Did you see anyone on your way to the field, anyone who might have looked suspicious?"

Karl frowned but said that they had met no one in the woods that day.

Hotchner stood abruptly as his phone rang in his pocket and he moved to the kitchen for some privacy as he answered. The veteran agent spoke little but gave an affirmative 'yes' to whomever was on the phone and re-entered the living room.

"Emily, we have to get back to the station, the others have some information for us."

"Is it about the body? Oh, I hope no one else is hurt," Sonya fretted and Dixie licked the woman's face, having jumped onto her mistress's lap when Hotchner stood.

Karl stood up, looking worried, "If we knew anything, agents, we'd tell you in a heartbeat."

Prentiss nodded, "We understand. Here's the number you can contact us by if you remember anything."

Sonya and Karl saw the two agents out. Prentiss sighed once she was in the SUV's passenger seat.

"I hope they have some good news," she muttered and Hotchner nodded.

SPN

Reid and Jennifer looked up from the dry-erase board the young doctor was scribbling on. Morgan and Rossi were sitting at the card-table, heads together, deep in conversation.

The other agents looked up expectantly when Hotchner and Prentiss walked in, followed by Sheriff Tuttle.

Vita closed the door after herself and the agents. It was cramped in the storage room but it was better than nothing.

"Okay team, what have you got," Hotchner prompted. He already knew about JJ and Morgan's find at the morgue but he was curious to hear what Reid and Rossi had discovered.

"There's more than just the four bodies found this morning," Reid said, "The others are older, skeletal remains now, but it's obvious the spot holds some sort of significance for the unsub."

"How many more?" Hotchner asked sharply, not out of anger for the doctor, but from worry.

"It's difficult to tell right now, Aaron," Rossi spoke up, "The remains are all jumbled up together, broken, or have pieces missing altogether."

Hotchner's eyebrows rose high up his forehead, "Just how long has this killer been active?"

It was a rhetorical question; no one knew the answer and so, everyone fell quiet for a moment.

Morgan was first to break the silence, "I hope we find this bastard and soon."

JJ nodded, "We don't know what pattern the unsub's killing in and that will take time to figure out."

Morgan stuck his chin out defiantly, "We'll find him. We always do."

The agent stood and paced for a moment before turning to Vita.

"Sheriff, I think we should warn people not to go traipsing around in those hiking woods, at least not until we know for sure there are no more bodies," Morgan asked of her.

Hotchner looked surprised, normally Morgan didn't take control like that, usually deferring to him.

This case is really troubling him, Hotchner thought. The senior agent didn't know why though, surely they had been on far more disturbing cases than this. Perhaps it is the lack of evidence, Hotchner reasoned.

"I'll let my men know right away to cordon off the entire area," Sheriff Tuttle assured them all.

"Thank you, Sheriff," Hotchner said and watched as the woman left the room.

"Anything else important we should share?" Rossi asked and there were negative answers all round.

"It's still early, Dave," Hotchner said, "We're still waiting on Garcia to identify the girl."

The team looked to Hotchner with a 'what do we do now?' expression on all their faces.

The Special Agent was dumbfounded. With no word from Garcia, they could not proceed, but ever the leader, Hotchner told his team to check into the local motel and take a break.

"We can regroup in a few hours and come back with fresh eyes," He told them and they all filed out, slightly relieved to be away from the case, if only for a little while, but also frustrated with the lack of evidence.

Every one of the agents couldn't help but pray that no other innocent person would go missing while they were at a stalemate.

Author's Note:

1. Thanks to CharmedandTwilight31, iimiodarhab, Lhyssa, StrawberryLaceSuicide, xTullyx, X5-721, ILBS, cestmoi01, ManicTater, sammynanci, Amaya Wolf Pierce, Jossi-kun, fuckinperfect, liliaeth, SkyHighFan, GotchaGood, mac-and-cheese417, Niweeg, book reader-lover of 3000, DaemonWolfe and Firadraco for Alerting and Reviwing.

2. Reviews are love… and they help me update faster! I only got four reviews for Chapter One and I know you can do better!