A/N: Beta read by the Gubetastic editor frog - thanks doll! I'm glad not too many of you want to kill me for offing the characters, however; I do have a feeling that will change after this chapter.
!! WARNING !! Character death in this chapter! If you don't like that stuff, don't read it! Do NOT flame me, you have been warned!!
Beginning to realize the seriousness of the situation they were in, the BAU decided they had to arm themselves. Someone was in the house; determined to terminate the team. One of them had already fallen victim to whoever had arranged this game of terror, and they were not about to let the count rise. Staying close to each other, they ventured into the kitchen with the hope of finding knives or something otherwise sharp as a means to defend themselves.
Emily had been left on the couch. No one could bring themselves to move her from the place where death had so crudely come upon her. Hotch had placed a quilt over her, covering her from head to toe. As he looked into her empty eyes one last time before pulling the cover over her head, he saw every bit of pain and suffering she had endured during her struggle against the grim reaper.
Whoever did this... he closed his eyes as he pulled the quilt over her, silently bidding his teammate goodbye.
The team rummaged around in the kitchen drawers, searching for something that could be used as a weapon; but the cabinets and drawers were nearly empty. All they could find was a bread knife and a peeler.
Hotch and Morgan had fetched the pokers from the living room, holding them tightly. They now had four weapons, but there were seven of them.
"The voice said that somewhere in this house there are standard-issue FBI guns," Hotch said turning to his subordinates.
"And what makes you so sure it's telling the truth?" Morgan held the poker so hard in his hand his knuckles went white. He wanted to find whoever did this, and have his way with him – and not the good way.
"Nothing. But we still have to search the house."
"Says who?" JJ said standing next to Rossi. "We'll just lock ourselves in a cupboard and wait there until morning!"
"Fifteen minutes ago we were going to stay in the living room for the duration, and look how far that got us." Morgan retorted. "Emily's dead!"
"Morgan!" Hotch held his hand up as if trying to calm his subordinate down. "We don't need this right now. What we need to do is find whoever is doing this and put an end to it."
Rossi sighed. "If the profile's correct – which I assume it is – we are dealing with someone very dangerous."
"The best defense is a good offence," said Hotch as he handed the peeler to JJ. "Morgan and Rossi, you go upstairs with me and Reid – when he gets back from the bathroom. Gideon stays here with Garcia and JJ."
"Not a chance, Hotch." Morgan shook his head.
"What?"
"No offence, but with some psycho out there wanting to kill us, I don't want Garcia to stay here, especially not with..." The words got stuck in his throat as he really didn't want to say it. But it was true; if there was one person in this house he didn't trust completely – it was Gideon.
"Hotch, I..." JJ began, looking imploringly at her superior. She didn't want to be left with Gideon either. Not after his actions towards the team. The young woman simply didn't trust him.
Hotch became slightly irritated, but understood his subordinates, and quickly rearranged the order of pairing. "Morgan and Garcia, upstairs. JJ and Rossi with me. Reid stays with Gideon and searches the downstairs. And I don't have the time to argue anymore."
He lay down the law, and the team agreed with his decision. Reid was probably the only one who wanted to be teamed up with the former agent at this time, and Hotch couldn't afford to have his team turn on each other; not even the least.
"We wait here until they come back."
-o-o-o-
Gideon had helped Reid find a bathroom to wash his face clean of the sticky blood covering his features. As Reid leaned over the sink splashing water on himself, Gideon looked at him from a distance. He no longer resembled the young adept he had come to know years ago. The boy had grown up so rapidly, it took the older man by surprise.
The young genius leaned heavily on the porcelain sink, hanging his head. "Why, Gideon?" His voice was small and hoarse.
"I don't know, Reid. This is a depraved individual..."
"That's not what I meant," Reid interrupted him; still not letting his head lift from its bowed position. "I meant you."
Gideon closed his eyes. He knew the question would come. It had just been a matter of time. And he knew Reid would be the one to ask him.
"Reid... I don't think this is the time and place for this."
"Then when is? Huh?" The young man's head snapped up and he gave his former mentor an accusing stare. "Of all people, Gideon, I-I never thought..." Reid couldn't continue because of the lump in his throat. So much had happened in less than an hour, and so many emotions collided inside him. Feeling the sudden need to vomit, the young man once again bent his head over the sink, retching into the flowing water.
Gideon rushed over to his protégé, grabbing his arms. "Good God, Reid! No!" The older agent instantly felt his heart kick into overdrive as he held his adept while the young man spewed his insides out.
Not Reid! Oh, God – not Reid!!
Reid couched as he breathed heavily. His stomach was in utter turmoil, but recognizing the feeling and placing it in the "too-much-stress"-category, he straightened his frame in front of the bathroom cabinet. Seeing his own freakishly pale reflection in the mirror, he shuddered.
As he saw himself in the mirror, he also saw the older man standing behind him; concern and fear written all over his face.
"Reid... Are you all right?"
The young man nodded as he looked straight into the reflecting eyes of his friend. "How could you, Gideon? How could you leave me?" Tears hit his eyes, and he let them out. Turning around, he pounded a fist straight into his former mentor's chest. "I trusted you!" Another fist. "I believed in you!"
Reid kept assaulting Gideon until the former agent grabbed his wrists and forced him to stop.
The young man cried heavily. "I hated you..."
Gideon pulled the boy into his arms, holding him in an almost bruising grip as his young adept cried from the bottom of his heart.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You were the one person I never wanted to hurt." The older man dug his fingers into the wet, tousled curls resting on his chest. "Spencer..."
-o-o-o-
As the two men eventually returned to the others they were informed of the plan. Both men were fine with the arrangement of searching the downstairs.
And so they split up.
-o-o-o-
Reid and Gideon slowly explored the first floor of the large house. Searching drawers and cabinets for anything that could be used as a weapon. The scouting seemed fruitless until Reid pulled out a heavy drawer of a large bureau.
The sight greeting him was a standard issued semi-automatic standard issued Glock 23. Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out the piece and checked the clip. It was full, carrying the standard 13 rounds of ammo.
"Gideon." He showed the gun to the older man, who nodded in consent.
"Good."
-o-o-o-
Hotch entered the bedroom on the second floor first, poker at shoulder height; ready to attack. JJ and Rossi followed close behind. The room, like the other three they'd been in already, was empty.
On the nightstand, Rossi spotted a Glock, partially hidden under a big lampshade. Retrieving it, the group felt the slightest bit safer as they ventured on into the next room. This time, Rossi walked at the head, aiming the gun into the unknown.
-o-o-o-
Garcia stayed close to Morgan as they explored the rooms on the other side of the staircase. The poker was their only weapon, and Morgan held it tight as he took a few steps into the room.
"Stay there, baby." He halted Garcia in the doorway. Stepping into what seemed to be the master bedroom, the fortified agent raised the poker in front of his chest, ready for anything.
But he never saw it coming.
The sharp pain as something sliced its way straight across his throat paralyzed him. Dropping the poker on the floor, the agent clamped his hand on his throat; only to feel his fingers sink into open flesh.
A gargling sound emerged from Morgan's mouth as it opened to call out for Garcia to get away.
"Morgan?"
He could hear her voice is if on the other side of the house; it was only a dull echo in his head.
The lack of oxygen got to him, making him drop to his knees, still holding his throat. Blood pulsated through his fingers as he desperately tried to gain a single breath of air.
"Morgan!!" He heard her again, from even further away.
Mouth gasping for air and his eyes wide in terror, he slumped over on the floor; clawing at the carpet below him. Moments later, he was still; a last gargle could be heard as blood stopped oozing from his throat.
All that could be heard was the hysteric screaming of a blonde audio/video technician, echoing throughout the house as she slowly slid down the wall into the corner of the room where the love of her life had just lost his life.
-o-o-o-
Everyone heard the horrifying scream as it pierced the dull silence of the mansion. Dropping all at hand, except the weapons, they ran to the place where the unending screams originated.
Hotch and Rossi arrived first. What they found would haunt them in their nightmares forever, should they be so lucky as to live through the night.
Morgan lay sprawled on the white carpeting; a pool of blood had formed under his head and chest. His eyes had the same glazed look as Emily's had earlier.
Garcia was curled up in a corner, screaming in panic; covering her eyes with her hands. The desperate howling emerging from the frightened woman more resembled that of an injured wolf than a human.
Hotch ran over to Morgan, desperate to find any sign of life in his colleague; but there was none. There was no pulse to be found.
Sighing, the superior drew a hand down his colleague's face, closing his eyes. He turned to the rest of the team who had arrived moments before, shaking his head.
"He's dead."
As JJ and Rossi managed to get Garcia out of the room – which was not an easy task – she calmed down moderately. Sobbing into JJ's shoulder as they sat in the hallway, she tried to regain some form of composure, but the panic and devastation inside her made it impossible.
"I..." she managed to press through her lips. "I... saw someone! He killed him! He killed Morgan! Morgan! Oh, God – Morgan!!" She was hysteric, tugging at her hair as she rocked back and forth.
"Calm down, Garcia." JJ tried to sooth her friend, when in fact she wanted nothing more than to scream at the top of her lungs herself.
"Did you see who it was?" Hotch crouched beside the women.
Garcia violently shook her head. "M-my glasses! I don't have my glasses! I can't see!" She continued crying, burying her face in the silk pajamas covering JJ's upper body; soaking it in tears.
All of a sudden, the melodic, whispering voice returned; sweeping through the house, making everyone freeze and listen as the hair on their necks rose. The simple childlike rhyme made everyone wince in anxiety.
"Seven little agents, going on a chase
Some in banter, some in embrace
Finding the treasures hid all around
But one of the treasures never was found
One ebony agent went hunting with sticks
He fell on the knife, and then there were six..."
A/N again: Now now, calm down. All I can say here is: keep reading, no matter what happens in the story. It will be worth it in the end. Whoever will be next..?