OMG! More than one update!!!

The-vampire-act: No, but he's about to be epic. And yes, you are one of my rabid fans. ;)

Everyone else: Thank you.

As always: I only own Morgan. And actually, I don't.

Chapter 9: If We Got Garcia and Mr. Spencer Together . . .

Chief Vick walked out of her office to accept the change of clothes from her husband. "I brought breakfast," he offered after her clothes, holding up a bag. "No, it isn't from McDonald's. I cooked it."

"Thanks."

He grinned. "I know how hard this case is for you. Hang in there?"

"I will." Vick headed for the bathrooms to grab a quick shower and change. She left her office door open as she downed her breakfast (never more thankful that her husband understood her than in that moment). Hotchner knocked on the frame minutes later.

"The rest of the team is back. JJ scheduled the press conference for about noon."

"I'll be ready." Vick glanced at her clock. Nearly seven, on the dot. Her phone rang. "This is Chief Vick."

Chief! I wanted to warn you that a very very angry Mr. Spencer is headed for the station.

"How 'angry' are we talking about, Mr. Guster?"

Let's just say that Godzilla would probably back down for him.

"Great. I'll prep the front desk."

I'll be about a minute behind him.

"All right."

Have you heard anything? Gus' voice rang with desperation.

"Not yet, Mr. Guster. See you in a few minutes."

Vick left her office and headed for the desk as Reid and Rossi walked in, both holding large cups of coffee. "Gentlemen, Mr. Guster just called Henry Spencer."

One of the officers at the desk went pale.

"Just . . . McNabb!"

"Chief?"

"Funnel Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster into my office as soon as they arrive. It's safest."

"Yes, Chief."

Vick walked back to her office. "Agent Hotchner?"

"Chief?"

"Guster just notified Henry Spencer about Spencer's disappearance."

"I'm assuming you would like me to help explain to a volatile ex-officer why his son is missing?"

"You read me like a book, Agent," Vick said with a half-smile. "Mr. Spencer will be hard to miss walking in here, so if you could just join us when he gets here . . ."

"I'll be in there."

"Hotch!" Reid yelled. He turned and returned to the boards. Vick sighed and sat down at her desk.

Outside, a battered beige-colored truck pulled into the parking lot as if something was chasing it. Behind it was Gus' blue Echo, traveling a little less erratically. Henry jumped out of the truck, hardly pausing to pull his keys out of the ignition, and stormed into the station. Gus ran after him.

"Mr. Spencer!" McNabb immediately intercepted him. "Chief Vick needs y--"

"That's where I was headed," Henry half-snarled as he continued to stomp by him.

"I'm sorry, McNabb," Gus said. "He's—"

"We were warned. She wants you in her office too."

"Thanks." Gus hurried after Henry, who was being avoided by mostly everyone in the station as he stormed into Vick's office. Gus followed him in and they were joined by Hotchner, who closed the door.

"Where is he?" Henry demanded.

"We don't know, Henry," Vick said. "Sit. Please."

"I'll stand. Now where's—"

"Henry! Sit."

Henry dropped into one of the chairs. "Fine, Karen. But I want to know where Shawn is."

"Henry, this is Agent Hotchner, with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit," Vick motioned towards the agent. "One of his agents is missing, as is our Detective Lassiter."

Henry rubbed his forehead. "So my son's been abducted by those same crackpots who've been torturing and killing cops, who also now have Carlton and a federal agent?"

"We don't really use the word 'crackpot,'" Hotchner said. "But yes."

"Shit." Henry leaned back. "He's not a cop, he's a consultant! Why the hell do they think that–"

"We're still working on the why." Vick cut him off. "As of right now there's nothing to indicate that he was any more than a high-profile target loosely associated with the police department."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Absolutely not. But I assure you, we're doing everything we can."

"Now, Henry," Vick said, pointing a pen at him threateningly. "If you even think of going after these people yourself . . ."

"You'll kill me yourself, I know." Henry waved it off. "What can I do?"

"If you really want to be useful," Vick said. "Let us do our job." Henry glared at her. "Mr. Guster, had Shawn figured out anything before you left the office last night?"

Gus shook his head. "No. He was working on trying to figure out what we were missing."

"How had it been going?"

Gus shrugged. "Not as well as he wanted to. It was like he couldn't make . . . see anything."

Hotchner stayed silent, watching a silently seething Henry.

"Did anyone check Lassiter's board?" Gus asked.

"The one in his kitchen?" He nodded. "We checked it, but he had made about as much progress as everyone else."

"So are we back to square one?" Gus sat back in his chair.

"And no closer to finding Shawn." Henry went to get up.

"Henry . . ." Vick pointed, and he sank back down.

"That may not be . . ." Hotchner said. "Chief. We need to get the information out about the van at Lassiter's abduction."

"That's forcing their hand!" Henry argued, half jumping to his feet and sinking down as Vick pointed at the chair. "We have no idea what might happen if we do that."

"It is." Hotchner shook his head. "There's two things that it will do. The first is that I will make them get rid of the van."

"And the second?" Vick asked.

"They'll try to find whoever put them at the scene."

"But that endangers the witness," Gus said. "Doesn't it?"

"Unless we put our own 'witness' out there," Hotchner answered before Vick could.

"And have a cop as a witness?" Henry half chuckled. "I'm pretty sure they'd catch that."

"They think they're incredibly intelligent. Cop or no cop, they could take the witness out as easily as their previous victims."

Vick was silent for a second. "Who would we use?"

"I'll do it."

Hotchner, Vick, and Gus turned to look at Henry.

"Mr. Spencer, I'm not sure—"

"Agent Hotchner." Henry got to his feet. "At this point, most of Santa Barbara knows that Shawn and I have problems. That being said, it would not be beyond me to be at the Psych office late at night. Unless you put some poor lackey from hotel security out there, then the only place left that you could put someone is Detective Lassiter's house, which would be too obvious." Henry took a breath. "Unless you want to use Gus, which would be completely understand-"

"I'm good if he wants to volunteer," Gus said, inwardly denying the fact that he would be the most obvious choice.

"As long as you know the risk of having a group of at least eight cop killers attacking your house," Hotchner said.

"I need to be doing something."

"And with that being said, police protection would let us keep an eye on you, Henry, so you don't do something stupid." He glared at Vick poisonously. "Stay here until I arrange for your protection. Mr. Guster, in case placing a large police force around Henry is not obvious enough, I want you to stay here as much as possible."

"Of course."

Hotchner left the office and returned to the boards. "Anything?"

"I'm triangulating the three abductions with the previous scenes," Reid said. "I'll let you know when I come up with something."

"Garcia and I are still running backgrounds on our suspects," Prentiss explained, looking up from the laptop. "So far, there haven't been any red flags."

"Rossi and Detective O'Hara went on another coffee run, and I'm finishing my script," JJ said, running a hand through her hair.

"We're going to announce that we have a witness under police protection. Can you place a plant in the audience?" Hotchner ignored the fact that his other two agents' heads flew up.

"O-of course," JJ said, slightly taken aback herself. "I'll just have to make a phone call."

"We're going to put the witness at Lassiter's house in danger?" Prentiss asked.

"No. Mr. Spencer has volunteered to pose as the witness. His name will not be revealed but a large police presence will be at his house, hopefully drawing them out," Hotchner explained. "It's dangerous but it may be all we have."

Rossi and Juliet re-entered the station, returning to the tables and handing out the coffees.

"Is there anything new?" Juliet asked hopefully.

JJ stood. "Let me run through the press conference with you." They walked back to Juliet's desk. "What we're doing is announcing that the FBI is taking over the case." Juliet started to open her mouth. "We aren't. We're just making the UnSubs believe we are."

Juliet sighed, but it was still obvious she didn't really trust the agent's word. "Then what?"

"I'm going to drop both Hotch's and Rossi's names. The media attention that will be attracted, at least to Rossi, will probably distract the leader. One of the main qualities of this type of leader is that he'll be drawn to the fact that," JJ grinned and made air quotes. "'The' Rossi is out here to find him. It may encourage contact with the media from him.

"We're going to describe the van."

"That'll infer that there's a witness," Juliet said. "Won't they go after them?"

"Mr. Spencer has volunteered to have police protection to pose as the witness," JJ explained. Juliet's eyes widened.

"Shawn's father?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We're going to make it painfully easy to see that he's the 'witness,'" JJ explained. "Hotchner is making a call to our field office to see if we can have undercovers in the area as well. We want to draw them out."

Juliet slowly nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

JJ sighed. "For one, you're temporarily in Detective Lassiter's position. As such, you'll need to be at the conference along with Chief Vick. And at the very least, I need you prepared."

"All right. Now what?"

"I need to fill in the Chief and get myself an audience plant," JJ said with a smile. "Reid may need you with the geographical profile."

"For what? It looks like he's just coloring a map."

"He is just coloring a map. You know Santa Barbara better than all of us."

Juliet grinned. "True. I'll see what I can do."

JJ headed into the police office, passing Henry and Gus. "You two all right?"

"As far as I know, Agent Jareau."

"We're planning the press conference," JJ said. "Since your agency is still technically being resourced by the department on this case, would you mind joining us for it?"

"O-of course not," Gus said, tripping over his words slightly.

"Mr. Spencer." JJ held out her hand. "I'm Agent Jareau, the BAU's media liaison. I assure you, we're doing all we can to find Shawn."

"Good to hear."

"If you need us for anything, give me a call." JJ grinned slightly. "I can tell you aren't going to let police protection stop you from trying to find him."

Henry was slightly taken aback, but hid it. "'Course not. We may not get along but Shawn's all I've got left. If you'll excuse me, I need to find my protection." He headed towards the front desk. Gus shrugged.

"I just need to phone my boss and tell him I won't be in," he said simply, stepping away. "I'm sure he'll understand when I tell him the office might get shot up." JJ knocked on Vick's door.

"Chief. I need to talk to you about the press conference."

#

JJ stepped up to the podium erected on the front of the SBPD's steps, Vick, Juliet, Hotchner, Rossi, and Gus standing in on the steps behind her. Gus shifted his weight slightly. He didn't like being up here. Maybe he should just leave the on screen stuff to Shawn.

He scanned the large crowd of media vans, cameras, and microphones. It was a good thing that agent seemed good at this. He would have been completely intimidated. Gus figured he was good at simple public speaking, but nothing like this.

"We've called this conference," JJ started, "To inform the public that, due to recent events, the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit is taking over the recent case involving three murdered police officers. We will continue to work in conjunction with the Santa Barbara Police Department, but as of this press conference, Supervisory Special Agents Aaron Hotchner and Senior SSA David Rossi are taking point on the investigation." She let the expected and desired murmur at Rossi's name die down. In the back, Rossi resisted rolling his eyes. "As of this moment, we are looking for a domestic group of between seven and ten members who have now abducted three more people related to the police department. Anyone who may have information concerning last night's disappearances of SSA Derek Morgan, SBPD Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, and police consultant Shawn Spencer are asked to contact the FBI's tip line immediately.

"Also in conjunction with this case, we are asking everyone to be on the lookout for a dark colored cargo van seen fleeing the scene of Mr. Spencer's abduction, at approximately 10:35 P.M. last night. We are considering the owner of this van a suspect. The van is likely stolen or has stolen plates.

"The leader of this group is a highly intelligent, egotistical sociopath," JJ continued, releasing the bits of the profile she and the others had agreed on. "He is likely a businessman with a good deal of resources. We believe that these killings are his way of getting revenge on the SBPD. If anyone you know has spoken recently about wanting revenge on the department, we also ask you to contact us at the number on your screen." She paused for a second to allow for a break. "Are there any questions?"

"How can you be sure these cases are related?"

"The different aspects of the crime along with the learning curve shown by the individuals suggests that the crimes are related."

"What are the chances that they're still alive?"

"Very likely."

"What places the van at the scene?"

JJ thanked God that her audience plant was smart. "We have a witness in protective custody that places the van at the Psych office."

"I don't like this." Juliet shook her head. Vick nodded.

"It's risky, but I trust them."

"That's all for now." JJ stepped back towards the others and turned to reenter the headquarters.

"And now we're going to be bombarded by reports of a dark colored work van," Rossi said as they rejoined the others by the boards.

"Hopefully they'll dump the van now," Vick said. "Lifting evidence off of that may be the only way to pin these guys."

"Hotch," Prentiss said. "Garcia may have something."

#

"Go take the plates of the van and scrape of the VIN," Brossart ordered two of his lackeys as he turned off the radio. "Send Rob out to dump it somewhere but still torch it." The one man left. "Now, down to business." Brossart turned back to the trio. "Do we have a volunteer?"

No one answered.

"All right then." Brossart turned to his accomplice. "Get the psychic."

"I'll do it," Lassiter and Morgan said in unison. Brossart laughed.

"We're all pretty damn eager now, aren't we?"

"I appreciate the concern, guys, but I can handle this," Shawn said, taken slightly aback that Lassiter, of all people, had volunteered.

"Get him anyway. Lee has a bone to pick with him. Lee!" Brossart turned and barked into a walkie talkie.

The other guy, who was obviously not Lee, headed towards them with a key. As he got close, Morgan did the first thing he thought of – he launched forward, jerking the other two, and slammed his head into the man's hip. As he collapsed, Brossart's gun suddenly appeared at Shawn's head with a click as the safety was released. They froze, Shawn closing his eyes to avoid crossing them to look down the barrel. Definitely loaded.

"That was stupid, agent," Brossart said, voice low and even. "Do something stupid like that again and, as sad as it would be to lose one of you so early on, I swear I will redecorate this room with his brain." With that, he unlocked the cuffs binding Shawn to the other two and hauled him to his feet. He stumbled, still slightly dazed from where he'd been hit over the head earlier. The other man had gotten to his feet, and grabbed Shawn's arms as Brossart connected the free end of the cuffs that had been connecting Lassiter and Shawn to Morgan's arm. Shawn winced as the man holding him shoved him towards the sole piece of furniture in the room – a chair.

The door was still open.

Morgan and Lassiter spotted it at the same time.

It was desperate, but . . .

"Shawn!"

"Spencer!"

Shawn got the message, wrenched out of his captor's hands, and flew through the door.

He was in some sort of subterranean hallway. Concrete. The sole lighting consisted of cheap dangly lights with no shade over the open bulb. The light was brighter from one end of the hallway, and Shawn decided to take that as a sign of civilization. He didn't want to wonder where his captor's other accomplices were, as he hadn't seen any of them since he'd been abducted.

This is stupid, even for you, Shawn! A voice that sounded creepily like Gus' yelled in his head. He could hear Brossart's dimwitted companion running down the hall after him – which meant that Brossart himself was left alone with the others . . .

"On three, Lassiter . . ." Morgan muttered. The duo braced themselves against each other, Lassiter wincing as his arm stretched. "One . . . two . . . three!"

They struggled quietly to their feet while Brossart stared at the door, arms crossed and foot tapping. Lassiter glanced back at Morgan.

"Rush him?"

Morgan gave a short nod and took a slow step towards Brossart. Lassiter followed suit, eyes not wavering from the target. His head was spinning – the combined weight of himself and Morgan might do some damage, but in the end, Brossart had a gun, and when it came to violence a gun definitely trumped a double tackle.

Brossart seemed to sense them coming. As he started to turn Lassiter half-swore. "Morgan –"

Morgan had stopped, starting to . . . just go for it . . .

Brossart took aim, and fired.

#

Running was difficult, but this was actual survival. Luckily, Shawn was sure Brossart's friend didn't have a gun on him.

He dodged around a corner and slid to a stop, straightening up with a grin.

"You must be Lee," he said, addressing the skinny guy with brown emo hair in front of him while slowly backing up. "I'm sorry; I think I took a left back in Albuquerque, so I'll just be go—uf!"

Lee punched him in the stomach, throwing Shawn sufficiently off balance and sending him to the ground. Coughing, he looked up to find Brossart's friend standing over him.

"Did he seriously try to run, Allan?" Lee asked.

"Yeah. Stuart's waiting for us."

They grabbed Shawn's arms and drug him backwards down the hall, hardly trying to pull him off the ground first. As they started back, Shawn struggling, there was a loud gunshot.

"What in hell?"

"The others must have made a move on Stuart."

"Can't say I think he's really their type," Shawn quipped. They picked up their pace, and he winced as it made his head pound harder. After a sharp turn and a hard crack on the concrete floor, he briefly lost consciousness again.

"--was stupid," Brossart was saying as he regained consciousness. "I fully expected more cooperation, or at least intelligence, from all of you. Get him in the chair." Lee and the beefy guy named Allan lifted him up and he found himself upright in the chair. "Hands on the arms, as usual. When you're done, Allan, get a tourniquet on Agent Morgan's leg."

They undid his cuffs, making sure to keep his arms pinned, and tied him down to the arms of the chair. With a quick glance at the others, he saw what Brossart had meant. Morgan was leaning back against Lassiter, one leg crossed over his other and teeth clenched. Blood was pooled on the ground under his leg, and Lassiter was trying desperately to figure out a way to stop the bleeding without the use of hands.

"So why're you two helping this guy avenge his not-dead sister?" Shawn asked, redirecting his attention to the two tying him down. "You related?" Shawn jerked his head towards Brossart. Allan stopped tying his knot.

"Did you hear him, Lee?"

"Yeah, I did, Allan. Keep tying."

"How'd he know Stuart's Jody's brother?"

"I'm psychic, remember?" Shawn said, leaning his head back against the chair. It earned a strike from Lee.

"Shut up." Lee pointed a finger at Allan. "You are not going to listen to anything this crackpot charlatan says, do I make myself clear?"

"But Lee—"

"Just finish tying him in the chair and we can get this over with."

"You don't like torturing the hell out of people?" Shawn asked.

"Why don't you tell me, psychic? 'Cause I'll enjoy beating the shit out of you."

"It's why you can't fight plants, all right? They always win. They're sneaky, vicious little monsters in clay pots, and . . . seriously? The one that attacked you always tripped me on my way into the –" Shawn earned an elbow to his stomach this time, knocking the wind out of him again.

"Maybe that'll shut him up."

"Don't count on it," Shawn heard Lassiter mutter from their corner, indicating that he was still paying attention.

Once he was firmly secured on the chair, Lee stepped back and opened the briefcase he'd brought with him. Shawn swallowed as he pulled out a baton about two feet long.

"Please tell me that I don't know what that is?" Lassiter asked.

Morgan glanced up and quickly looked away. "It's a shock baton. But it's better than jumper cables."

They looked back over as Shawn doubled over in the chair after making another smart-ass comment. Lee stalked around it, as if trying to figure out the best place to start.

"This is gonna suck, isn't it?" Shawn finally said, unnerved by the silence. He fidgeted in the chair, eyes glued to the baton. "Like when the grocery store doesn't have pineapple and you have to drive thirty-five minutes to the next grocery store, only to find out that they don't either, and then that there's a pineapple-itis epidemic . . ."

"Brossart, just, let him go, and maybe we can talk about this," Lassiter yelled over at their captor, more out of instinct than anything else.

"It's not going to work, Lassiter," Morgan hissed, voice hoarse. "Trying to bargain is going to make it worse, remember?"

"I feel like I'm in a slasher movie," Shawn said, closing his eyes and pressing himself back against the chair. "Only, it's a really bad one. Like a zombie movie . . . or Friday the 13th Is Every Day of the Week . . . didn't you hear about it? It's the newest remak--"