A/N: It's really not my fault that this is so late. I tried to update on Wednesday and Thursday but I couldn't log in. Adding to the fact that I was sick. (When you are nearly in tears due to a computer failure, it's time to take some cold medicine and go to bed).

Well as promised, long ago here's chapter 15.

Yes, Greg will reveal who Warrick's Watcher is, but first we need to visit the bad guy for a moment. It's been brought to my attention (by my lovely betas) that I haven't really shown just how evil my bad guy is. Sure, he stabbed poor Nicky, but Nick seems to get the short end of the stick all the time.

Okay, enough babbling. Cough syrup+ keyboard makes Dee a babbling idiot!

On with the show (still not owned by me!)

8

8

8

8

8

8

The blood was dripping from the tip of his knife. Blood red was his favorite color, but this didn't satisfy him. For some reason, this blood was not red enough. It certainly didn't taste good enough. Now that he'd had the taste of the pre-Immortal, nothing was satisfying him, not even the helpless woman, whimpering under his foot. She was a bleeder, and Coy Morgan liked that in a woman.

This just wasn't what he wanted. He'd thought to lift his spirits with a little torturing and killing, but the frustration of not finding his prey was overwhelming. Damn that stupid Immortal! How dare he take his victims from him and hide them! He'd done his homework. Warrick Brown was out of the game. He'd had no contact with other Immortals. He should have been rusty and ill prepared.

Instead, just in time to save his sorry ass, he calls in for back up. Coy had never heard of an Immortal doing that. Nothing was going as he had planned. It should have been so easy! How had he misjudged the situation? He was supposed to have taken Warrick Brown's head days ago. It should have been simple, without much of a fight. That's how he liked it. He needed to get Brown's head! Afterwards, all he wanted to have the time to play with the other two. He wanted to make them pay for his frustration. He wanted to make them scream for mercy. It would be useless. He would give no mercy.

The woman whimpered in fear once again, bringing his attention back to her. Usually that sound was a good sound to his ears, but all it did was aggravate his nerves. Looking down at her, Coy tried to find joy in all the blood that he had drawn out of her, but it did no good. Warrick Brown and his two followers were ruining all his fun!

Coy gave the woman a cold smile that frightened her one last time. Her face held that look of utter fear even as death took hold. He took a moment to relish the loud crack that her neck made as he killed her. With a sigh, he shook his head. This was a waste of time. Nothing short of killing those three would make him happy. He had to find a way to draw them out. He needed to find them before they completely escaped.

Wiping his knife off on her lifeless body, he contemplated his choices. He could wait for Warrick to come out of hiding, or he could use one of his friends as bait. Coy had used up all the patience for waiting that he had, so that only left a little fishing expedition. Time to head back to his lookout across from the CSI building.

His decision made, Coy wondered which one he should use. He'd seen Warrick with a handful of them outside of work. The blonde woman was a good choice; she'd already made him mad by interfering with him before. The one that he had attacked had hung out with the dark haired woman a few times. There was an Asian man that had been to Warrick's apartment several times the last couple of days, looking for the missing Immortal. Any one of those would probably draw Warrick out of hiding. It would make him come running to the rescue.

It was the older man that intrigued him. He looked as he would be a fun one to torture. It might be fun to try to drag some reactions out of him. Perhaps he would do that later. No, if you wanted bait for a man like Warrick Brown, you had to use a woman. Coy didn't think it mattered which one. It was only a matter of which one gave him the opportunity to grab.

Coy chortled quietly to himself. Yes, tonight he would grab whichever woman was handy. Then, all he had to do was sit back and wait. Warrick would come running to the rescue, more aptly; he would be running to his death. A small sniveling sound drew his attention to the other occupants of the room. He smiled, he had almost forgotten them. He stalked over to where he had left them, bound and gagged, lying on the floor. His nose crinkled in distaste as he caught the telltale odor. One of them had wet themselves. Looking them over, he frowned, the older one had been the one to make the offending offering.

"Well boys, what shall I do with you?" Coy liked the reaction he got from the older boy. The boy's brown eyes were nearly bugging out of his skull as he stared, transfixed, at the knife that had mutilated his mother. "This, my friends, is a fine hunting knife. It's made especially for skinning animals. Are you animals, like your mother? She bled a lot. I like to see lots of blood. What about you? Do you like blood? Do you bleed a lot?"

The older boy whimpered in distress, struggling vainly to get loose. Coy ignored him, it was just irritating. Instead, he turned his attention to the younger boy. This boy was not moving, he was not struggling. He simply lay there, watching Coy with glistening green eyes. He didn't look afraid. He didn't stare at the knife in horror. He was looking at Coy with…..hatred. For someone so small, the boy seemed to hold a lot of hate in him. For some odd reason, Coy liked that. He respected hate, that was something he could understand. It wasn't like fear. Fear was an emotion that Coy couldn't remember.

Hunkering down in front of the small boy, Coy brought the knife up and caressed the boy's arm with it. "Do you hate me, kid? Yes, yes you do, don't you. I can feel it radiating from you. Ah, yes! I think I have the perfect idea for you." With a glance at the door, Coy made sure that it was firmly locked, should the kid get out of his grasp, he would never get out the door before Coy reached him. Knowing this, he felt safe in cutting the boy's binds. The boy slowly rose up off of the floor, continuing to glare at Coy. Except for a glance at the locked door, he made no move to escape. Coy admired the boy's tenacity.

"Well boy, let's play a little game." Coy informed him as he handed the knife to him. The youngster took the knife and stared at it in shock. When the green gaze returned to Coy, he laughed. "Yes, let's play. Shall I tell you the rules?"

No sound came out of the boy as he nodded, yes; he wanted to know what the game was.

888888888888888888888888888888888888

8

8

8

Greg looked around at the men gathered around. They offered no protection from the stalking African-American. Greg suddenly understood what if felt like to be hunted by a lion. There was no way he could get out of this. Perhaps, in a hundred years, he might be able to learn to keep his big mouth shut.

"Archie." Greg whispered with obvious reluctance. He felt as if he were betraying the technician. He felt like he was feeding his friend to the wolves. He was offering him up to save his own skin.

"Archie?" Warrick repeated unbelievingly. "Archie-Archie?"

"Archie Johnson." Greg nodded. "He has the tattoo. I've seen it. I just kind of assumed it had something to do with Star Trek or some other Science Fiction thing he's into."

"Well, in a way, it is." Nick commented quietly. Everyone's attention was drawn to him at this. He quirked up his mouth in a half-smile. "I mean, think about it. What's more Sci-Fi than immortality and sword fighting?"

"Yeah….that would definitely be right up Archie's alley." Warrick snorted. He stomped a few steps away from the others. He had to think. Archie was a friend. At least, Warrick had thought he was. He paced back and forth, feeling frustrated. Why did his Watcher have to turn out to be a friend?

He could have handled it if it had been Hodges. He would have loved to have a real reason to be pissed at Hodges. Hodges was the type of guy that you disliked for no particular reason. If it had been Bobby, it would have been upsetting, but acceptable. Bobby had never been more than a friend at work. They'd never taken the friendship out of the workplace.

But, Archie? Archie, who had been a friend. Archie, who had brought beers when he came over to watch the Super Bowl with them. Had Archie really been interested in the game? Or, had he used it as an excuse to get into Warrick's home? Had he planted cameras and listening devices in the apartment while he was there?

"I need to talk to Archie!" Warrick muttered angrily.

Adam had taken it upon himself to dig out the food Warrick had brought. He was in the process of divvying it out when he heard Warrick's utterance. Chomping hungrily on a hamburger, he brought another to Nick. He swallowed the bite as he glanced over at Warrick before suggesting smoothly. "Wait on that for now. We need to focus on the threat at hand. I normally don't step into someone else's fray, but since this Immortal is targeting those unable to protect themselves, I decided to help out. I think we should worry about getting him out of the picture before we worry about personal vendettas."

"And why should I wait to confront the man who has repeatedly invaded my privacy?" The big man snarled.

"Archie isn't a threat to us, but this guy is! We can't stay holed up here forever!" Greg snapped back. "I appreciate that we are here for our own good, but we are grown men! We have jobs to go to!" Greg looked over at Nick and grinned devilishly. "Well, I have a job to go to…..Nick, as usual, has a doctor to visit."

"Greg," Nick lowered his burger from his mouth, leveling an evil glare at his friend. "Bite me."

88888888888888888888888888888888888888

8

8

8

Sara sat inside her car and watched the building. Warrick had entered the building covertly. If she hadn't been expecting him, she wouldn't have seen him. Nothing had happened from where she sat, but then, she couldn't see inside of the third floor windows. She figured this was the reason Warrick had chosen this particular spot for his hideout.

She debated what she should do. She could go to Grissom, confess what she knew. Then all she would have to do is stand back and watch the fireworks between them. The Sara Sidle of old would have done that. She would have reported to Grissom or even Ecklie, but she was a different Sara now. She had changed over the years she'd been in Las Vegas. She liked to think that she had changed for the better.

She had lightened up. She was still dedicated to her job, but her fellow CSI's had shown her that there were other things in life. Nick's ordeal last year had brought the team closer together. They were more than co-workers. They were a team, a family.

In the beginning, she had hated Warrick. He had had the respect that she felt she deserved. Over the years, she had grown to respect the man. She'd come to see what Grissom had see all along. Warrick was bright, motivated, dedicated and most of all, he was loyal to his friends. He was a great CSI and an even greater friend. Even when it was obvious that she didn't like him, he'd stepped up for her on more than one occasion.

He'd done the same for the others. Last year, when they'd discovered there were explosives in the hole with Nick, Warrick had refused to leave his friend. It was all that Grissom could do to get the big man out of that hole. Afterwards, Warrick had been the first one at Nick's side.

It wasn't just Nick that he'd shown such loyalty to. He'd pulled her butt out of harm's way too. When she'd been so determined to collect evidence from a closet full of pipe bombs, he'd stayed by her side, even when it was obvious that he wanted to get away.

Therefore, if Warrick was willing to risk his career to protect Nick and possibly Greg, Sara suspected that there was a real reason behind his actions. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, glaring at the building. She had to make a choice here.

She wanted to trust Warrick. She knew he was smart, obviously he was to have a preplanned hideout for instances such as this. She had suspected that he was probably a better CSI than she was, even though she had discovered his hideout. He seemed to know what he was doing at all times, this couldn't be any different.

The real problem was that she envied the closeness the guys shared. She wished they would let her into their fold. Perhaps she would have to force their hand? Perhaps she could make them let her in, by knowing their secrets.

The secret hideout of Warrick's was the Trump card. Sara just had to know when to play it to the best advantage.