A/N: So I'm late again, I know... life happens. I hope you'd like the next one!

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or Superatural.

"Loyalty is the pledge of truth to oneself and others."
Ada Velez-Boardley

"I have a right for legal counsel." I said as soon as Henriksen entered the small interrogation room I was held in. "I want to use it to call a lawyer."

"And you will." Henriksen replied. "As soon as I finish talking. Sam Winchester, born May 2nd 1983, and Dean Winchester, born January 24th 1979. Same date as yours. I guess your parents weren't very creative with name choices, were they? Naming their kids Dean and Diana. What do you think, Diana?"

"I have the right to remain silence." I said coldly, waiting for Hotch to come in as my attorney. "And it's SSA Chess for you."

"Right." He replied. "You, unlike them, earned that title. Not that it stops them from using it as they please. Impersonating a federal agent, that's a federal offense, you know.

"I have the right to remain silent."

"Not that it's the only charge pressed against them." Henriksen continued. "Mail fraud, credit card fraud, breaking and entering, assaulting an officer, grave desecration, kidnapping and murder." He finished the list and looked at me. "Last year Dean-o murdered three innocent women. We tracked him down and killed him."

He took out the pictures of the crime scenes and showed them to me, finishing with the picture of Dean's dead body. I noted the burns around the cut in his arm and looked back at Henriksen with a mask of emotionless on my face. Shifter, I thought, Not Dean.

"Lawyer." I said, talking more to Hotch whom I knew was waiting on the other side of the glass. "Now."

Hotch entered the room and shot an angry look at Henriksen. "Sorry I'm late." He said and I already knew him well enough to know he was lying.

"So Dean's dead." I said. "What am I doing here?"

"Well, about two months ago there was an incident at a bank in Milwaukee, Wisconsin." Henriksen said. "I arrived at the scene." He pulled out a speaker and played a recording.

"This is special agent Victor Henriksen." The recording played.

"I'm not really in a negotiating mood." My heart skipped a bit at the sound of Dean's voice.

"Do you recognize this voice, agent?" Henriksen asked.

I looked at Hotch before replying. "That's Dean."

"Good. Me neither. It's my job to bring you in." Henriksen's voice on the recording continued. "Alive's a bonus, but not necessary."

"That's harsh for a federal agent, don't you think?"

"Well, you're not the typical suspect, are you, Dean? I want you and Sam out here unarmed, or we come in. And, yes," he added, "I know about Sam - Bonnie to your Clyde."

"Yeah, well, that part's true," Dean's angry voice said, "but how'd you even know we were here?"

"I wonder if there are any more Winchesters out there."

"Go screw yourself."

"I'll take that as a yes. You know, it became my job to know about you, Dean. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis, the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts." He paused for a moment. "I know about your dad."

My fists clenched inside the cuffs as I fought hard not to scream at Henriksen. Luckily, Dean did it for me.

"You don't know crap about my dad." He growled.

"Ex-Marine, raised his kids on the road," a short pause, "two of his kids, at least. Cheap motels, backwoods cabins - real paramilitary survivalist type." There was clear mocking in his voice. "I just can't get a handle on what type of wacko he was -White Supremacist, Timmy McVeigh. Tomato, tomahto."

I rose to a standing position, the cuffs cutting my hands and Hotch rising next to me in order to hold me back if necessary.

"You got no right talking 'bout my dad like that!" I screamed. "He was a hero!"

Henriksen, who was still seated, smiled smugly as he re-winded the recording to Dean's response on his insults.

"You got no right talking 'bout my dad like that." Dean said. "He was a hero."

I fell back down on my chair, all of the fighting spirit out of me.

"There's something I've always wondered about psychopaths." Henriksen said. "Maybe you can help me, you do work with them daily." He leaned forward in his chair. "Is it genetic? Because if it is, I wonder what it means for twins –"

"Enough." Hotch said loud and clear, speaking for the first time since he entered the room. "I'd like to have a word with my client. Alone."

Henriksen walked out the room and Hotch looked at me.

"I asked Garcia to do a background check on you." He said.

I looked at him with big, disbelieving eyes. "You what?"

"She didn't call me with the results yet so I wanted to know…" He hesitated. "Will she find anything?"

"No!" I called.

"None of the felonies your brothers are accused of?" He asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" I said. "Hotch, are you kidding me?"

"Not even…" That hesitation crossed his face again, this time accompanied with slight guilt. "Not even in your junior records?"

I looked at him angrily. "Junior records should be sealed."

"Nothing is sealed for Garcia." He replied shortly.

"You could've told me you had them, Hotch! I would've explained!" I glared at him. "Why the lying? Some trust test?" He is silent and I gasp. "You're trust-testing me? Again? What the hell, Hotch?"

"Why were you lying?" He asked instead.

"How would you look at me, knowing the truth?" I asked. "I worked so hard trying to leave that behind me, trying to get better! And I just knew you'd think I'm lying to you about not knowing where Dean and Sam are!"

"Are you?" He questioned.

"No!" I call, seriously pissed off.

"Would you take a Polygraph test for it?"

"Yes." He looked at me with surprise and I shrugged. "I've got nothing to hide."

Not the best way to start a lie detector test – by saying a lie.

"Please state your name and date of birth to the record."

"Diana Milly Chess, January 24th 1979."

"The name of your parents?"

"John and Mary Winchester. Both deceased."

"Any brothers?"

"Dean and Sam Winchester, currently wanted by the FBI."

"We can cut down the side comments." Hotch whispered in my ear and I nodded.

"Current profession?"

"Supervisory Special Agent at the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Behavior Analysis Unit." The words rolled on my tongue playfully, but I let it. Who knows if I'll still have the job tomorrow.

"When is the last time you contacted either of your brothers?"

"Nine years and seven months ago." I smile cheekily. "But hey, who's counting?"

"Were you aware of the charges pressed against them?"

"Not until Agent Henriksen informed me."

"How much is two times nineteen?"

"Thirty eight."

"When did your brothers last see you?"

"Nine years and seven months ago."

"When is the last time you had had a long-term relationship?"

"Relevance?" Hotch asked.

"Trying to establish a solid base for the test."

"Try with something else."

"Square root of two hundred and twenty five?"

"Fifteen."

"What kind of music do you like listening to?"

"Classic Rock."

"What is your mother's maiden name?"

"Campbell."

"What was your father's job?"

"He was a Mechanic."

"What was your mother's job?"

"She was a housewife, but she died when I was four."

"What did she die from?"

"A house fire."

"What did your father die from?"

"A car accident."

"When was that?"

"Five months ago."

"When did you last contact him?"

"When he was at the hospital, before he passed away." Hotch looked at me, surprised. "We spoke over the phone."

"Were your brothers there with him?"

"I don't know. He didn't mention it."

"When is the last time you saw your brothers?"

"Five months ago, at our Uncle Bobby's house."

Everybody stopped and looked at me with shock.

"You said you haven't contacted them in ten years."

"I haven't."

"You said they haven't seen you in ten years."

"That is true."

"So how could you see them and they not see you?"

"I hid under the sink."

They all look at me, expecting me to laugh or anything, but I don't. They asked for the truth, they got it.

"Are you saying that after not seeing your brothers for nearly a decade, you avoided meeting them after your father's death?"

"See them and say what? 'I'm sorry I bailed on you guys and ran away, not bothering to pick up the damn phone when you called me, let alone call you during those nine-and-a-friggin'-half years but let's forget all of that and just sit down to exchange stories of our lost time'?" I lean back in my chair. "Sorry. My family doesn't do chick flicks moments."

They stare at me for a minute or so before Hotch breaks the silence.

"I believe this interrogation is over."

"So," I asked a couple of hours later when Hotch and Henriksen entered the interrogation room again, "can I go now?"

Henriksen sat in front of me.

"Help us." He said. "Contact your brothers, tell them to turn themselves in, find out where they are and we will not charge you with anything."

That was his final resort and we all knew it. He got nothing on me – how many times have we tried to pull this trick off? – and now he's just trying to use me against my brothers.

"Charge me with what?" I asked. "In all of my time at the BAU, I've never seen anyone being put up to trial for the felonies their siblings supposedly did. Siblings they have not seen in years, by the way. And I doubt today will be the first."

"I can charge you with helping a fugitive." He declared.

"Fugitives who assume I'm probably dead?" I asked.

"Obstructing a federal investigation."

"Try again." I laughed. "I did all you asked me to do. So I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me go now." I lifted my still cuffed hands. "These hurt."

Henriksen sighed and released my hands, and I rubbed it where the metal started to cut into my skin. Wordlessly, I stood up and left the room without a spare glance at either of the two men who were still there. Hotch followed closely after.

"Worst. Lawyer. Ever." I say as we walk outside and towards the SUV in which he arrived. "I can see why you didn't make a profession out of it. Shouldn't you, I don't know, help me?"

"What was the thing you said during the Polygraph?" He asked.

"I meant it. Two times nineteen is thirty eight." I say humorously and sit inside.

"Not that. What happened in there?"

"Henriksen was a jerk. You weren't help -"

"And neither were you." He cut me off. "Why?"

"They're family." I said simply. "Family sticks together."

"You left them ten years ago." Hotch said.

"Doesn't make them any less family." I retorted. "Does it make me a rubbish sister? Yes."

"Where is this certain loyalty is coming from?" He asked.

"The same place it will come from if any of you will need it. Tomorrow… or in ten years." I sighed. "I left because of John. Cutting my brothers off was just… collateral damage."

"Walking away from your brothers is collateral damage?" He asked, clearly shocked.

"Not talking about it." I said.

"Why?"

"Don't do that." I looked at him. "This whole act as if you are better than me… how is the relationship with your brother, Aaron?" He clenched his jaw and I sighed. "Look, I'm really tired, can I just go home? I was interrogated all night long and we had a case before that. I can really use some sleep."

"That will have to wait." Hotch said. "Strauss wants to see you."

I sighed and put my head on the window.

"So I'm fired, nothing new here." He looked at me questioningly. "Strike three, Hotch. I knew it the moment Henriksen put those cuffs on."

"It wouldn't have happened if you'd just tell us about your childhood." Hotch replied. "I know it's hard –"

"No offense, but you really don't." I sigh. "You think you know, but you don't. Being abused as a child? Having an alcoholic father who beats you repeatedly? The stories of some of the guys we catch are fairytales next to what my childhood was like. Not that it can be called childhood."

The SUV stops at the Quantico parking lot and he turns to look at me. I look straight into his eyes.

"My childhood was over when I was four." I said. "From that moment on, I was a grown-up, simply because I had no choice other than to be. I took care of my brothers, the best that I could. When my dad would return to whatever trashy motel we were staying at this time, with cuts and bruises, I'd patch him up. I found out about the changes my body goes through during puberty on my own, not before I was certain I was about to die. And that's just the tip of it." I sighed. "It's not something you can just talk about."

"You just did." He said with that smile of his, the one you can't see if you don't know him well.

I came to the realization that he had let me in, too. Slowly but steadily, during the past two years or so, my team members, my new family, let me into the dark corners of their past. Just as I let them into mine.

"Well," I said, "maybe I'm not entirely hopeless."

"Sit." Strauss said as I walked into her office, gesturing to the chair in front of her.

I sat and looked at her, strangely calm. It can be oddly relaxing to know you are being fired.

"I didn't want you here to begin with. You have authority issues, not uniquely brilliant and easy to hate." I flinched as she read from my file. "I told agent Hotchner that you would cause nothing but trouble and that the team doesn't need an extra member. As it turns out, I was right. Disobeying a direct order from your chief of unit in the favor of a family member? Keeping information away from your team to assist an ex-boyfriend? You should have been fired long ago." She looked at me. "And now this. Getting arrested and being the sister of the Winchester brothers, and possibly assisting them."

"I had not seen my brothers in –"

"And I don't care." She cut me off.

Something didn't feel right. Strauss could be a bitch sometimes but she would at least give me the chance to defend myself.

"You are not good enough!" Her words cut like knives through my heart. "You are nothing! You should just be left behind!"

Something was wrong. This wasn't Strauss. This was something else entirely.

"Christo." I murmured and the demon flinched. I shot up to my feet, ready to fight but she only beamed at me.

"How did you know?" She asked.

"I've met enough demons to know the difference." I said, reaching inside my boot where I had a hidden bottle of holy water at all times since my first encounter with Yellow-Eyes. I tried to pour some on her but she escaped.

"I knew you were smart." She said, still smiling. "I knew it even back then."

I am torn between the curiosity to know and the need to perform the exorcism before the demon can cause Strauss any further damage.

"Back then?" I question.

"When you were twelve, don't you remember?" She acts mock-hurt. "I'm offended."

"You're lying." I said. "You couldn't have gotten to me when I was twelve, that's just when I moved to Bobby's."

"Why do you think you moved there?" She asked. "Dear Johnny-Boy kept telling you it was in order to protect you, but why did he suddenly think of that?"

Thoughtlessly, I started mumbling the Exorcism Spell.

"You were too close to the line of fire!" The Demon called. "You were too unexperienced and you got possessed! Your old man sent me away, but not before I caused some major damage. Do you think you can do better? Do you think you can save your little boss before I kill her, too? Maybe after I finish with her, I can move on to Spencer."

I stopped and looked at her fearfully. "Stay away from him." I growled before I came to my senses. "You couldn't have done that." I said "I would have remembered." When I continued the spell, she continued talking.

"You remembered. You remembered it all, being a prisoner in your own mind. Can't talk, can't scream when every inch of you feels like it's on fire. John went to a Mage to build a wall, to shut it out. But walls are ever so fragile."

She clicked her fingers and it all came back. I fell to my knees and screamed as the memories were my entire being. She reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"Come." She ordered. "Azazel wants to see you."

"Who are you?" I whispered, more afraid than I've ever been.

She smiled at me viciously. "Name's Lilith."

I waited for the pull, for the moment I would be somewhere else, but it did not happen. Instead, to my surprise, Lilith fell on the ground. Behind her stood Garcia, holding a red book, which I assumed she used to knock Lilith off her feet and Hotch, his gun ready to fire if needed. I finished off the exorcism spell and black smoke left Strauss's unconscious body. I crawled to her and checked for pulse. Strong and steady. Only then, I turned my attention back to the two people who stood next to us.

"How much did you see?" I asked.

"Enough." Hotch said. "Will she be alright?"

"She'll live." I replied. "But recovery won't be easy. It's like…" I hesitated, looking for the right word. "Imagine being in a horror movie, through the eyes of the psycho. You are forced to watch, you can't control what your body does, you are in pain and don't even have the privilege to scream. You fight as hard as you can and the demon just laughs."

"Now whatever you imagined," I heard Strauss's voice behind me, "imagine it ten times worst." I looked at her to find a terrified, yet determined, woman. "Agent Chess," she approached me, "I think you have some explaining to do."