Edited version! Still kinda (i.e., really) sucky ending, though. Okay...let's see here. You know, the norm, I guess. NatNazzy, Devil's Girlfriend, .Stars, eyesonwind, and my "anonymous" reviewers, you guys rock!


"So, we need to talk to the victims' families," JJ concluded.

"There are three families," Hunter said. "Hotch, I don't know how you want to break up your team, but our team is divided into three two-person groups."

"JJ and I will go to the first family, Prentiss and Rossi to the second, and Reid and Morgan to the third."

"A, B, C," Hunter replied, getting weird looks from the FBI agents. "We have three teams," Hunter explained. "Monny and I are A, Erika and Matthew B, and Carter and Sare C. That's how we always split up."

"So why exactly did you say that?" Morgan asked.

"What I said meant that A will visit the first family, B the second, C the third. It doesn't always go that way."

"Okay, then."


Hotch drove, Hunter in the seat next to him, and JJ and Monny in the back.

"You seem very protective of the girl," Hotch said to Hunter.

"Sare has a really screwed up home life. Her mother basically ignores her, and her mom's boyfriend hates Sare. She only has people to turn to here, with us. I treat her like a daughter."

"A bit like Gideon with Reid," JJ commented.

Monny tipped her head, braids falling across her chest. "Gideon? Did we meet him?"

JJ shook her head. "He left a while ago."

"Oh."


Erika and Matthew were looking at case files in the back of the SUV. "Rossi?" Erika asked. "What exactly is the victimology?"

Rossi turned in his seat to look at Erika, almost hitting Prentiss, who was driving. "Girls and boys from schools around here who fit the 'popular' stereotype. The jocks, all that."

"Then Sare would fit the profile perfectly. She hates those kind of people. They torment her constantly. We think it's because she's quiet, answers questions, reads, writes."

"She sounds like Reid," Prentiss commented, and Rossi grinned. "Is she just as bad at the physical side of the job as he is?" she asked.

Matthew shook his head. "Maybe she can't take down an UnSub, but that's why she's partnered with Carter. She's a good shot—hits where she aimed nine out of ten times. She's small and young, but she can keep up with the rest of us. Half the time we forget just how young she is. She's clumsy as all get out, but graceful at the same time—she recovers well. Probably because she's a dancer."


Sare was curled against the car door, plugged into her iPod and playing a game on her Kindle.

Carter, sitting in front of his young partner, glanced back at her. She seemed calm enough now, but Carter knew better than to risk talking to her.

Unfortunately, Morgan didn't know that as well. "Sare?"

Sare jerked her earbuds out of her ears and glared at the FBI agent. "Yes?"

Morgan would've held his hands up in defense if he hadn't been driving. "Okay, darling. Don't bite my head off."

Sare looked at him, murder in her eyes. "I highly doubt that would work."

Carter was trying, and failing, not to laugh. Sare glared at him, her blue-grey eyes icy. Carter shook his head in surrender. "Go back to your game and music. Don't murder us."


Hunter stepped out of the car, followed by Monny, who jumped to the ground, braids swinging.

A woman with auburn hair left the house they were parked in front of, followed by a small boy.

Hotch walked around the vehicle. "Mrs. Davison?" The woman nodded. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. This is SSA Jonathon Hunter, and Agents Jareau and Monnatt. We're here to talk to you about your daughter Alyssa."

The woman looked at them. "Come inside. James, go play out back."

The house was quiet and cozy. Pictures of Alyssa covered every available surface. She was a pretty blonde cheerleader who seemed to be happy in every picture.

JJ picked up one of the photos, of Alyssa in cheerleading uniform with a football player. "Did Alyssa have a boyfriend?"

Mrs. Davison nodded. "Yes. His name's Mason, and he plays football. The cheerleader would paint one of the players' number on their cheeks. Alyssa's was always 32."

Monny tipped her head. "Pardon?"

Mrs. Davison stared at her. "It's really quite straightforward."

"I was homeschooled," Monny explained. "I'd never been to a football game until last year."

"Did Alyssa have any enemies, anyone she mentioned she didn't like?" Hotch asked, getting the group back on topic.

Mrs. Davison shook her head. "Alyssa seemed to get along with everyone she met."


Erika, Matthew, Prentiss, and Rossi climbed out of the SUV, and were greeted by a yapping dog. The dog was followed by a couple who didn't look overly happy to see the agents there.

"Get off my property," the man growled.

Prentiss showed her badge. "We're with the FBI," she said. "We need to talk to you about your son."

"My son is dead and buried," the man snapped. "Let him stay there."

"We're sorry to intrude, sir," Erika said quietly, and led the way back to the car.


Hotch's phone rang. He snapped it open. "Hotchner." He frowned. "There are always those. Not a big deal. We'll talk at the station." He turned back to the other agents. "The second family refused to talk."


When they pulled into the driveway Carter turned to Sare. "Listen." Sare pulled put her earbuds and set her jaw. Carter gave her a warning look. "Behave yourself. We want these people to talk to us, not be alienated by us. I know you're pissed, but please either be nice or shut up."

Sare gave a half-grin. "I can do that."

The four agents walked up to the front porch, and Carter rang the bell. The door was opened by a man in a suit. "Who are you?" he asked.

The group held up their badges. The man nodded and swept his eyes across the group. His gaze lingered longest on Sare. "You're the same age as Brittany," he murmured.

"Brittany's why we're here," Sare said gently. "May we come in?"

The man led the group into the living room. "Brittany was my only child. My wife died—cancer—when Brit was three. I doted on her. She was a good girl. One of the popular kids, sure, but she didn't get into trouble. I'm pretty sure she drank some at parties, but don't all teens?"

"Not all," Sare murmured.

"Seventy percent of teens reported trying alcohol at least once," Reid added.


Having got everything they could use, the teams headed back to the station to talk things over.