Author's Note: Small time jump here.

The Flesh And The Devil

"Ha -Hotch, I can't fa-fa-feel my fa-fa-face."

Emily's frozen stammer came with a weak tug on Hotch's arm. It was all she could manage.

At present they were in the middle of the forest, in near pitch black surroundings, far from the view of anything but pine trees and whatever nocturnal animals hadn't fled yet from the storm. She and Hotch had already done three laps up and down through these terrible woods and back out to the road again. God only knew how much time had passed since they'd started their grid search, maybe twenty minutes . . . maybe forty. But either way the weather, which had already reached a stage of "horrible" when they'd started out, had deteriorated.

Rapidly.

With the way the wind and snow were whipping now . . . enough to actually bend their gait . . . it was almost impossible to see anything BUT the snow! And as evidenced to Emily, (mostly by her frozen skin and the crystals forming in her eyes where vitreous fluid once lived in a liquid state), hypothermia was definitely becoming a true and genuine concern. Hence the reason for her tugging on Hotch's arm.

She really couldn't stay out there much longer.

And she could tell from the way that Hotch's jaw was shaking as he squinted down at her in the glow of her flashlight, that he wasn't faring any better than she was. At first he didn't say anything back to her though, he just stared down as the snow caught on those long lashes of his. Finally he turned back towards the way they'd been going, to wave the beam of his Mag light.

After a few rotations, and a few more steps forward, something caught his eye. Emily wasn't sure exactly what it was, but suddenly with his flashlight hand, he reached back to loop his arm through hers. Then he started pulling her forward.

"Up ahead," he chattered out with a jerk of his chin, "that tree off to the far left."

The tree in question, Emily realized then, seemed to have a bit of natural shelter built into it. It was a pine, a tall, fat one, rapidly turning from all green to all white. But rather than being covered in branches and needles from top to bottom, all the way around, something had disrupted the growth on the far side. Maybe it was a lightning strike, or maybe it had been beavers, or maybe it was the fucking Keebler Elves, but whatever it was, it had left a nice cubby hole inside the branches and greater foliage.

And as she and Hotch trudged through the deepening snow . . . at least four inches had fallen now . . . Emily was trying to see just how big the space was. If there really was room enough for two.

But before she'd really had a chance to take it in, they'd stumbled up on it, and Hotch was pushing her inside.

He was a half a step behind her.

And amazingly enough, though the space was technically open to the elements . . . that obviously being how they'd entered . . . it was actually like a cocoon in there. Though there was a bit of a snow drift, maybe a half inch, down in around their boots, the wind really was blocked almost completely by the density of the surrounding needles. And with the wind cut off, the snow was no longer pelting them in the face.

Thank Christ!

Still though, as Emily slowly brought her arm up to cover her nose and mouth with the back of her flashlight hand, she wasn't feeling much in the way of warmth.

"I ca-can't ssstop sh-sh-shhaking."

It was another frozen stutter, though that time when it happened, she felt Hotch immediately step forward and pull her to his chest.

Then he jammed his gun into his holster, before he began frantically rubbing his arms up and down her back.

"It's okay," Hotch chattered while pressing Emily backwards another step until she was almost touching the tree trunk . . . he was trying to get her completely out of the storm, "you'll be okay. We're mostly out of the wind now, so," he sucked in a cold breath through his teeth, "we should warm up some."

They would definitely warm up some . . . but not enough to keep going with their search. They were both going to freeze to death if they tried to continue on any longer.

That was a fact.

Christ . . . he winced . . . what the HELL had he been thinking?! Yes, he'd known that it was a stupid idea to go off on their own in this weather, but at the time they'd decided to go, he'd had NO concept of just how IDIOTIC an idea it truly had been! It had only taken ten minutes of being beaten in the face by the roaring winds and whipping snow to realize though that there was really no plausible chance of them ever finding any footprints in the woods. It wasn't like when Emily was taken and he'd been RIGHT there when it had happened.

That was a track he could follow.

The wind was blowing so hard now though that even their own footprints were gone almost as quickly as he turned back to look. And in the darkness, with their eyes squinted, and arms up to shield themselves from the wind and ice pellets, they weren't going to find anyone, or anything out there, if they didn't literally trip over it in the dark. Of course that had not happened yet. And the odds of it happening at all, were slim to none.

He'd made a horrible miscalculation.

Another one.

And as he felt Emily's body shaking against his, Hotch knew that the time had come for him to let go of what was left of his pride. He'd already lost Derek, and God knew his hopes now of finding JJ and Reid without outside help, had faded to almost nothing. And even then . . . he felt a pang in his chest . . . there was still a doubt that they'd find them at all. So really, the only one of his team that he had left, the only one that he had for sure, was Emily. He winced.

She was the only one he could save.

But only if he got it together.

"We're going for the SUV," he rasped into her ear, "and we're leaving."

When she tipped her head back, even in the bouncing glow of their flashlights, he could see the glistening in her eyes. He didn't know if it was caused by tears, or ice. Either way the sight caused another stab of pain in his gut. In his hubris, his belief that he could somehow conduct a two person search in a strange forest, in a blizzard(!), he'd been woefully irresponsible with her safety.

He'd kept her out for far too long.

In fact, with the stammer she was developing, he realized that she might already even be falling into a medical stage of hypothermia. That was not at all in implausible development . . . and really would be par for their luck that day . . . so he decided he should probably check that out.

So he asked her a basic math question.

"Can you subtract three from twenty and then five from that total?" He murmured while tucking his flashlight under his arm. And as she nodded, stuttering out, "ssseventeen then ta-twelve," he brought that now free hand up to lightly pat her cheek. First three taps on one side . . . and then the other. Then her chin and her forehead.

And back around again.

By the time he stopped, after three rounds of three taps each, he could see that there was the faintest bit of color in her skin again. It wasn't a healthy color, but it was no longer a frightening one. Before she was ghost white.

Now at least the blood was flowing again.

So he made one more circle around her face, before moving on to take the same actions on his own.

Though of course he couldn't see the color of his skin, he had to assume that the total numbness was not a good sign of anything. But after a few quick rotations . . . harder slaps for himself than Emily . . . he could feel pins and needles forming.

The pain was definitely better than the nothing.

And as he winced slightly, twisting his jaw back and forth, he could see Emily doing the same.

"When we get to the SUV," Emily chattered . . . the stammer at least had been lost, thank God, "which way are we heading?"

It was important to remember that before their world had gone completely to shit . . . they'd already been totally lost.

They had no idea which way help even was!

Hotch bit down on his lip.

"I've been thinking about that," he answered after a pause, "and I believe our best bet is to keep going the way we were before we stopped." He ground his teeth together, "I mean Christ," he waved his hand, "we were on that road for an hour, and it has to end somewhere, right?"

"Yeah," Emily jerked her head while bring the back of her hand up to rub her nose, "absolutely, it has to end somewhere that people would want to go."

Really, how the hell could it be designated as a 'detour' road, if it didn't EVENTUALLY bring them back out to civilization again!? And all they really needed of civilization was a working telephone!

Or even just a cell tower.

Yes, they were traveling through the forest, but the government had built all kinds of secret crap out in the forest. This was a fact she knew not only because of her own work, but her father's as well. So some sister agency out there could easily have put up a cell tower in these woods. Most likely it would be built like a tree so that it would completely blend into the area, but really, it could exist.

It could very easily exist.

So once they were back out on the road, she realized that she should start checking her phone every mile. Maybe they'd get lucky. Maybe the universe would throw them a bone. She blinked back the tears in her eyes.

Maybe.

Feeling Hotch touching her face again, Emily's eyes snapped up to his. And seeing the intensity of the look he was giving her, and knowing there were words hovering that he wanted to say, she just shook her head.

She didn't want to hear them.

"Don't you dare be sorry that we tried to find them ourselves," she rasped out with a crackle in her voice . . . one that had nothing to do with the cold, "because there was no other choice. We weren't wired any other way. I knew it was stupid, we both knew it was stupid, but we never could have left without looking for them first. And besides that, if I wasn't here with you right now, if you hadn't taken me with you, then we both know that you would continue to be stupid. Because you would stay here and try to keep looking for them," her eyes started to water, "and then I would have lost you too."

When she leaned in then to pull him into another hug . . . the reminder that they were in this together, no matter how bitter the end . . . Hotch rubbed his hand down her side.

"You're right," Hotch responded on a husky whisper, "I would be staying if you weren't here." He sucked in a ragged breath, "so like I said in the SUV, it's a good thing you are. And we will still find them. They're not lost to us yet. We just need to go get help now. But they're resourceful, and strong, and if we can find this bit of shelter here," he leaned back to give Emily a firm nod, "then they definitely would be able to find something too."

Of course that was assuming they still possessed the freedom, and the free will, to seek out such things as warmth and shelter.

But a man could pray.

"Absolutely," Emily sniffed, with a pat to Hotch's chest, "they're smart, they'd find something."

Assuming they were still alive of course. They could already be long dead . . . her eyes burned . . . just like Derek. But that was a truth that Hotch knew as well as she did. So the lies they were speaking now weren't for themselves.

They were for each other.

And knowing from the way that Hotch was biting his lip, that they'd made as much peace with their decision to leave as was going to be made, she gestured behind him.

"If you want to try double time back to the road, I'm game." She stomped her feet as she twisted her jaw again, "the blood's moving again now, might as well take advantage."

It would be hard, the snow was getting deep and even with their brief rest, their strength still wasn't what it was. But the sooner they left this hell, the sooner they could come back to it.

And coming back was all that mattered.

"All right," Hotch nodded anxiously while throwing a look over his shoulder . . . out into the blowing snow, "if you think you can," his eyes snapped back to hers, "we'll loop arms so we stay together."

It was going to be a hell of time getting out no matter what, but she was right. As long as the blood was moving, better to try running it if they could. So once they'd fixed their rifles back on their shoulders and Emily tightened the straps on the backpack he was carrying . . . at a good thirty pounds it was an easier load for him to lug than her . . . Hotch turned and took the three steps out of the small shelter they'd found for themselves.

A wind gust instantly hit him from the east.

It was so strong, and so unexpected after those few minute of still air, that it was actually like a punch in the face. Literally, he staggered a bit just before he felt Emily's hand fall to his lower back.

"Go, go, go!" She yelled while simultaneously pushing him forward. Then her arm was looping through his, and their flashlights were cracking into each other, and she began pulling him forward.

That only lasted a second before he got his bearings again. Then he was pulling her. But still she was matching him pace for pace, and unfortunately, stumble for stumble.

The stumbles were inevitable though, running in snow that deep.

But as it whipped and swirled around them, they kept moving. In his head Hotch was once more counting the steps, just like he had when he was chasing Emily's trail in another part of these woods.

Nine paces . . . eleven . . . Emily fell . . . back on their feet . . . eighteen paces.

Twenty one.

He tripped . . . back on their feet.

Twenty-seven . . . turn around the trees . . . thirty . . . another turn, duck the branch . . . thirty-four, and there . . . his eyes widened . . . the gap in the pines. It was coming up.

The road was just ahead.

Once more when they broke through the tree line, they were both panting and gasping, sucking in snow and ice cold air. To Hotch it felt like his lungs were going to explode.

The pain was horrendous.

And though he wanted to stop to try and catch his breath, the SUV was now almost within sight. It was a little ways back down the road . . . they had been moving further north in their search pattern . . . but it was at least visible. Well . . . he brought his arm up to shield his eyes . . . in another minute it would be visible.

So they kept running.

Though now their steps were actually a bit more of a slip and slide over the icy asphalt just beneath the layers of snow.

The outline of the SUV had just started to come into view . . . when suddenly Hotch found himself flying through the air.

Literally . . . flying. It felt like he'd been picked up and thrown.

By Godzilla.

And as he smashed face first with a muffled curse into the snow bank on the far side of the road, far back DOWN the road. . . he just missed hitting a tree . . . from the open space behind him he could hear the crack of the shotgun. One shot . . . two. He'd been completely stunned in the fall, but he was desperately trying to refocus. And then he heard screaming.

Emily.

OH JESUS! THEY WERE GOING TO TAKE HER AGAIN!

And though he was frantic to get back to his feet, to get back to where she was . . . because now she was cursing a blue streak . . . he'd had the wind knocked completely out of him.

FUCKING HELL! He couldn't even tell which way was UP let alone which way to go! He was just blindly crawling through the snow, blinking and trying to stay on track to the sounds of the fight.

Just then there was another round from the shotgun . . . and another. The adrenaline that shot through him then, along with the pure panic of not knowing what was happening, did help to clear his brain. But by the time he was able to stumble back to his feet (after falling once), Emily had fired two more times.

And some part of his brain knew there was only one shell left.

Please don't take her from me again!

He was begging God as he staggered forward, half running, half limping from where he'd banged his leg on a rock when he hit the ground. And though he knew that Emily couldn't be far . . . not more than ten or fifteen yards . . . he still couldn't see anything through the snow.

It was a world of white.

"PRENTISS! PRENTISS!"

His screams were answered with three more shots . . . all rapid fire, all from a handgun that time . . . and then her yelling back, "ONE OF THEM'S COMING FOR YOU!" and he shoved his Sig into his holster and yanked his rifle from his shoulder, even as Emily began firing again.

Hotch froze. His already wild eyes were bouncing everywhere, trying to see movement in a world that was already swirling and whipping around him.

THERE!

His brain locked onto something, just before it came flying at him. He was able to get off one load from the shotgun before he was again thrown to the ground. That time it was in the form of a tackle.

SHIT!

Fortunately the backpack broke his fall. But before he could even blink, the UNSUB was on top of him. And he was strong, SO strong, with a fetid, rotted, odor coming off of him.

He smelled like death incarnate.

And then Hotch's eyes popped when he saw the teeth. They were sharp and pointy . . . and covered in blood. Just before they made contact with his nose . . . the bastard was actually trying to EAT his FUCKING FACE(!) . . . Hotch was able to smash the base of his flashlight across the other man's jaw.

It broke.

The UNSUB didn't scream though, he didn't seem to register any pain at all, he just kept trying to chomp down. That was even though the bottom half of his face was no longer lining up with the top.

It was like a broken toy where the pieces didn't fit together anymore.

And as Hotch was grunting and twisting and shoving, trying desperately to get this asshole OFF of him(!), suddenly something else came flying out of the snow.

This time it was Emily.

THANK CHRIST!

Then her boot was connecting with the UNSUB's ribs . . . which provided just enough extra force for Hotch to use his pinned shotgun to shove him away. And as he was rolling to the left, Emily was screaming, "COVER YOUR HEAD!" so he did.

And she fired that last shell from her Remington.

When his arms dropped down, his eyes popped when he saw what she'd done . . . blown the UNSUB'S head clean off.

HOLY SHIT!

"It's the only way to kill them," she rasped while frantically yanking him up, "now watch the body! See what happens!"

"Wha . . ."

The word hadn't even left Hotch's mouth, when the thing that he was watching for, happened.

The body disintegrated.

Right in front of them, it fell into a cloud of ash. One that immediately melted into the snow. His jaw dropped.

"That is not possible," he muttered in disbelief, "it isn't."

"But it is, Hotch!" Emily yelled back while frantically shoving two more shells into the now empty shotgun . . . two emergency shells were better than none, "because the OTHER one did it too! But only after six nine millimeters dead center to his face and throat, ended up tearing off his head! Now come on," she hissed while pulling on his arm, "we need to get out of here before more of them show up!"

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THEY NEEDED TO LEAVE!

Though half of Hotch's brain was still splintering off, trying desperately to reconcile what he'd just seen, with what he'd always known of the world, still, Emily's words somehow filtered through that haze.

His eyes snapped down to hers.

"Right," he mumbled, "yeah. We have to go."

It wasn't until he'd actually repeated the sentiment aloud, that his brain seemed to process the urgency of the action they needed to take. A fresh surge of adrenaline shot through his body.

"We have to GO!" he repeated again, that time in a hiss as he grabbed Emily's arm.

They began to run.

A/N 2: Funny, I was writing this chapter and I'd already fleshed out the beginning with them having to give up the search and I'm going along, walking them back to the SUV, and I had been playing with some images in my head of how to move forward from there (I don't generally know how a scene will end even when I walk into it) and then suddenly I'm like, I'm getting bored writing this . . . cut to Hotch flying through the air. So that's my hidden writing 'technique.' If I get bored, I throw a hand grenade into the middle of the scene :)

To kill the vampires, I figure in a situation where you don't KNOW they're vampires, it would just be a trial and error process. So, 'bang, bang, bang' dead center isn't working, eventually you go for the head shot, and you keep going for it because really, there are not a lot of creatures that keep going without a head. And I liked the idea of Emily figuring out how to kill them before Hotch did. A) logically, because it was actually her third physical engagement with them, she'd have more experience than him, and B) who is to say she wasn't a Slayer in a past life? :)

And I thought this was a good breaking point of their 'oh shit, what is happening out here?!' and how you're 'realistically' (such as that word applies in this type of story) trying to reconcile the ridiculous with the new reality. And your brain would not be able to immediately process the ridiculous (vampires) so the reality would simply be to run away from this thing that you can't understand.

Thanks everybody!