Sorry it's been a while, guys. Other characters surfaced and Amelia just kind of stayed quiet, as she does. However, she's back and I'm starting to get back in the groove of things.

I own Amelia, Joe, Kathleen, Adam, Irene, Ryan, and any other character not from the series normally. Everything else belongs to their respective owners.

We went back to the hotel for the night, resolving to get some rest and wait until morning. I knew that I probably wouldn't sleep, but I would definitely do some more work. Once I was in my room, I showered, changed into some PJs, and sat down at the table to look over my notes for the day. Everything was pointing to someone that I knew, but who? I knew a lot of people, but none that I could consider to be enemies. What did I do to deserve this? I kept asking myself as I read my notes over and over, getting to the point of futility. Suddenly, there was a knock at my door. Most recent events had made me a bit paranoid, so I approached the door carefully.

"Who is it?" I called, staying within reach of my gun.

"It's Spencer," said a familiar voice. "Can I come in?" With a sigh of relief, I unbolted the door and opened it. Spencer was still wearing his button down shirt and tie from today, along with those brown corduroy pants and converse sneakers. He looked a little tired, but then again, it was about one in the morning, so I probably looked no better.

"Hey," I said, stepping aside so he could come in. He walked in, saw my notes on the table, and turned back to me with a wry smile on his face.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" he asked.

"Nah," I said, knowing that it didn't take a genius to figure that one out. "What's been keeping you up?"

"I'm worried about you," he said, meandering over to the table so he could look at my notes. I was confused.

"You're worried about me?" I asked.

"Is that so surprising?" he asked, looking up from a page to look at me.

"A bit, yeah," I replied. "Do you want to sit down?" I asked after an awkward moment of silence. I know he had already read over my notes about 3 times since he started looking at them, so if he'd had any questions about them, he would have asked them already. He quietly sat down and looked at me.

"I remember what it was like, being the new kid on the block," he began as I sat down across from him. "I've been the target of a case once or twice, and I've been in my fair share of danger. It's not easy. I guess, I really just don't want to see you have the same problems that I did, Amelia." By now, he was leaning over the table, hands slightly extended. I gazed into his brown eyes, almost losing myself in them. Out of habit, I searched his emotions. They were as sincere as the look on his face, but there was something else in there, something that I couldn't put my finger on. I glanced down at his hands, and they were turned up, as if asking for mine. Do I want to take this chance? We can't fraternize with coworkers, it's not allowed, said the logical side of my brain. It's probably just friendship. If he has done this before, then he probably genuinely does care about you, said the other side. Deciding to take a risk, I placed my hands on his, and he grasped them. I felt my heartbeat quicken, and heat rise to my face. We just looked into each other's eyes for a minute. We didn't really study each other, as was the norm. We just looked. I saw pain in his eyes; pain that has stemmed from a past that I didn't know about.

"Spencer," I said quietly, almost breathless. From the way he kept looking at me, I could tell that he knew what I saw.

"My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic," he said. It came out so fast that it shocked the both of us. In a million years, I couldn't have guess what followed. "I had her put into a special care facility when I was 18. My father walked out when I was about 8, and there were days when my mother couldn't get out of bed. It was one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do in my life. I write her letters every day, but I almost never go and see her." He paused for a minute and looked away, gaining his composure. When he looked back at me, he had tears in his eyes. "Schizophrenia is hereditary. I just have this fear that one day, I'll snap and end up in the same situation." I was dumbfounded. Spencer had just poured his soul out to me. Now, I knew what that monster in the back of his mind was. It was what he felt the schizophrenia was; a monster waiting for the right moment to strike. I grasped his hands, trying to reassure him. When that didn't work, I got up, walked over to him, and pulled him into a hug.

"It always happens to people with a higher than average IQ," he said, his voice suddenly monotone. I looked down at him, and the look of pain and sadness was gone, replaced by determination. "I won't let it happen to someone else," he said. Suddenly, he stood up and hugged me back. Shocked, all I could do was keep hugging him. He felt warm, and incredibly wonderful to hug, which was contrary to his skinny figure. There was also a scent about him that I liked. I didn't know if it was cologne or just soap, but I made a mental note to ask him later. I allowed myself to stand there for a minute, just taking everything in. For some reason, I felt safe. The logical side of my brain was yelling at me again, but I didn't care. We were in my room, he had just opened himself up to me, and now he was showing that he cared. Somehow, I felt so safe. "I'm here because I care about you, Amelia. You're a lot like me, and people like us need to stick together." I was about to answer when there was another knock at the door. I looked at Spencer, who looked as suspicious as I felt. I went to the door, and I heard Spencer put a hand on his gun.

"Who is it?" I called. There was no answer. I looked through the peephole, and there was nothing. I looked back at him and shook my head, indicating that no one was there. Slowly, I unbolted the door and opened it. There was no one in the hallway on either side. Then, I looked down. A small, lumpy, brown envelope was sitting there with my name on it. Behind me, I heard Spencer pick up the phone and dial. Curiosity had me, and I knelt down to the envelope and picked it up.

"Amelia!" Spencer exclaimed, running to me. "What if it's a bomb?!" He was right of course, but something was telling me otherwise.

"If the UnSub is after me, then I think he would want to watch me die as he killed me," I reasoned, going off of what I knew about him.

"At least use this," Spencer said, and handed me a rubber glove. I took it, put it on, and slowly opened the package. There was no Earth-shattering kaboom, so I figured it was safe. I felt a very odd sense of foreboding, as if I wasn't going to like what I saw. However, if I didn't actually look at it, I may be ignoring a piece of important evidence that could find this creep. I reached inside, and found something cold and hard. It was an engraved piece of metal. It felt like a badge...

My heart dropped to the floor, right next to my stomach. I slowly pulled it out, and dropped it with a scream. Hotch, Rossi, and Derek came running out of their rooms, guns drawn. Prentiss and JJ ran out too. JJ gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. I heard Prentiss whisper "Oh no." Rossi uttered some profanity under his breath and looked at me. My knees went weak and I fell to the floor, trying to get away from the badge. I couldn't stop myself from crying. Spencer just held me close, staring at the badge with horror on his face. Hotch just looked at it, and Derek gave frustrated sigh, as if his worst fear had been realized. None of them wanted to see what they were seeing, but it was right there in front of all of us.

It was a police badge, with my dad's last name and badge number, and bloodstains.

The UnSub had my dad.