A/N: Tadaa! The new chapter is already here. (grins) (Be that a good thing or bad…)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all those reviews! It's clear that there are people out there who love this story. You can't even imagine how much that means to me. So thank you! (hugs)

Awkay… (takes a breath) Let's get going, no? I truly hope this one won't disappoint you.


To Hell…


At the end of it all Aaron could only stare at the pool of blood on the floor.

There was no Foyet. However the screams seemed to echo in the walls, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was imagining things. Aaron was fairly sure that he'd never get rid of the stench of blood and death.

They'd been damn lucky that Emily had been fast enough and tackled Foyet to the floor before it'd been too late, that Foyet's bullet had missed its target. Spencer… had not been as lucky.

Still staring at the blood, Aaron couldn't keep himself from imagining what exactly happened before they came. He imagined although he would've been much happier not knowing. Just like he was powerless against the thought that if they'd arrived just some short hours or minutes earlier…

He glanced to side upon hearing steps. David stood beside him, the older man's expression mirroring his. "Have they found Spencer yet?" he inquired.

David shook his head, also staring at the blood. "According to the forensics we shouldn't expect them to find anyone alive. Even if he'd survived from the immediate attack…" The older man trailed off, appearing physically ill.

Aaron shuddered despite himself, his eyes stinging. He tried to tell himself that it was because of all the dust, because of the smell hanging in the air.

The first sound that broke through the absolute silence that followed was that of his cell phone ringing. He frowned upon discovering that the caller was Penelope. "What is it?"

"You told me to trace Morgan." The blonde sounded teary and terrified, so unlike herself that it scared him. "I… I found him."


The apartment was rather dark and deadly silent as officer Lucas DeMarco from Quantico P.D. searched through, only thirty-two-years old eyes that'd already seen all taking in everything without a hint of hurt or shock.

The mess.

The fired bullet.

The tiny hole on the wall that had another bullet in it.

The small amount blood.

Neighbors had called 911 upon hearing gunshots. In an instant it'd been revealed that the apartment was owned by a FBI-agent. By the time DeMarco's team made it to the scene the man lay on the floor, unconscious. There wasn't a trace of the attacker.

DeMarco's eyes shifted barely noticeably when his partner, Lucia Williams, stood beside him. Her blue eyes were dark and thoughtful. "He was taken to a hospital. They'll let us know as soon as there's development." In their world that meant the man would either be dead or able to answer their questions. DeMarco sincerily hoped it to be the latter. There was no way he'd be able to understand this whole circus without the agent's help.

He nodded stiffly. "Good." His accent was thick, as it always was when he sank too deep into his thoughts to control it. He didn't give a damn.

That's when DeMarco saw something that caught all his attention. He frowned.

On the floor lay a golden medal that had the picture of a Phoenix bird on it, along with letters. DeMarco recognized the item so clearly that it brought chills all the way through him.

'Desert Coyotees' was the organization's name translated in English. It was a criminal organization that was active at least in Tijuana and Loreto, specialized in drugs. DeMarco had heard whispers of it when he still worked in La Paz. Not much was known about the organization simply because the members were quick to silence anyone who might endanger them. All they respected was family. It was like a nasty invasion of crickets – effective, ruthless and destructive.

If that organization was actually real and not just a rumor, what the hell was it doing in Quantico? What happened in this apartment?

DeMarco and Williams looked at each other.

Whatever went down here was something they'd probably never hear the full truth of.

They both looked back in alarm upon hearing steps. In came Nick Silias, their twenty-five year old rookie who always had a slightly scared look in his green eyes. At the moment the young man's face radiated excitement. "According to the neighbors there were at least two women here. One's description matches with Ellie Spicer's. They couldn't tell what happened to her, though."

DeMarco nodded, something swirling in his stomach as always when he was close to a breakthrough at work. "What about the other woman?"

Silias appeared slightly apologetic. "They couldn't tell as much. She was in her late thirties. Black hair, brown eyes. Pretty, looked like a latino. There was a lot of Spanish spoken." The young man actually grinned, which was a clear sign that something big had been spotted. "There's a lot of fingerprints. It's a almost sure thing that the mystery woman can be identified."

It was merciful, perhaps, that Silias didn't know that the woman would never, ever be identified as Elle Greenaway.

After all, she was nothing but a ghost anymore.

It was the first and last sign of 'the coyotees' on American soil.


The very first thing that registered to Derek as he opened his eyes was pain. It swell and pulsated inside his head like wanting to tear his skull to pieces, sending electric jolts all over his body. He shifted with discomfort, desperately trying to understand what was going on.

Why the hell were the bright lights on?

What happened?

Just then, like hearing his unvoiced question – he hadn't said anything, had he? – a very young woman dressed into a nurse's outfit appeared to his line of vision. She'd pulled her long, curly chestnut-colored hair to a ponytail that slipped to her shoulder when she leaned closer to him. She wasn't smiling but the look in her brown eyes calmed him down instantly. 'Belle' her nametag said. He wondered how much it should've unnerved him that he could only hear bits and pieces of her speech. "… alright, agent …gan. … head. … ficulties with hearing for while."

Derek stared at her hard, demanding explanations. Before he could ever try voicing anything, though, the nurse apparently heard something and looked towards room's the door. For a moment there was a frown on her face.

Alarmed, Derek looked towards the same direction. He felt chills upon discovering Aaron stood by the doorway. The look on the unit chief's face promised nothing good.

Belle seemed to realize that this was her cue to leave. She cleared her throat, then headed towards the door with a tiny smile for him. "'all me if you need 'ything."

Derek nodded, trying to smile back and failing miserably. "I will."

Aaron went to business as soon as they were alone. "You… 'fter Ellie Spicer alone, 'rgan. Unauthorized."

Derek shrugged, his throat unnaturally dry. "She was in my aparment, Hotch. I wasn't the one who went after her." He could only guess how clear the actual voiced words were.

Aaron didn't seem impressed. The unit chief's voice sounded off but at least now he heard a bit more clearly, whether he wanted to or not. "… found two bullets from different guns, neither was yours." The older man gritted his teeth hard. "'know what happened but you have… explaining to do. Two officers… want to talk to you. I only managed to buy you… time with saying you're still unconscious."

Derek nodded, hoping that it was enough of a thank you for now. He didn't really manage to care about what would happen to him. His head was killing him.

It took a moment before Aaron spoke. "How's Elle?"

Derek shuddered, not having expected the question. He licked his lips, glancing towards the window for a second. "She's… alive." Deciding to change the subject before it'd become too dangerous he looked towards his boss. He'd never seen Aaron look so tired and throughoutly worn. His eyes narrowed while worry swell. "I'm the one in the hospital." He had to clear his throat. "Why do you look worse than I do?"

Aaron looked at him directly to his eyes, then blurted out the words like they'd been the easiest in the world. This time he heard every word. "Ellie Spicer is still missing but we caught Foyet."

The shock alone was enough to send Derek's still ailing body into a state of complete chaos. His eyes widened dramatically and his aching head was sent spinning. His hands shook while he balled them. His heart was beating so fast that he feared it might give out completely.

Foyet… If the bastard had been caught, then surely…

Spencer…

Derek never got the chance to ask, to try and find some peace of mind. Because just then the headache became even worse and he couldn't even think. There was incomprehensible shouting, people bursting into the room, then even more pain. Until suddenly there was absolutely nothing at all.

The last thing Derek saw before oblivion was a crystal clear flash of Spencer's face.


Whether it was because of lack of courage or chances, William Reid never told his son that Diana's illness wasn't the only reason he left his family. As much as his wife fought the monsters inside her head so did he. In the end William decided that watching one battle was enough for his son.

Staring at the glass of whiskey in front of him William shook, feeling so much at one go that he just couldn't process it all.

His eyes were nearly glazed over while he looked around the tiny, filthy bar, wondering how long he'd been there. He wasn't even sure how he got there. The last clear memory in his head was of him being far from kindly told to go home, to step away until his actions during Foyet's arrest had been investigated properly.

He'd almost fucking died only hours ago. Now he didn't have a clue of where his son was. He didn't even know if Spencer was alive. And he wasn't allowed to do a thing about it.

It was almost ten years from his last drink. He'd never felt this thirsty in his whole life.

"Hey, buddy?" He was startled by the bartender's – a surprisingly kind looking middle aged, bald man's – voice. The man was looking at him with open pity he might've loathed in some other situation. The bartender's eyes flickered on his drink, then rose back to him. "Want me to make that one a double?"

Swallowing thickly, William realized that he had exactly two options. And at that very moment he could've sworn that Spencer was right there with him, looking at him. It made the decision much easier than he could've ever imagined.

William shook his head, feeling lightheaded and sick to his stomach. "No thanks." Ignoring the weird look the bartender gave him he paid for the untouched drink and bolted out, all too aware of the fire burning absolutely everywhere inside him, screaming at him to go back.

William walked through the unfamiliar city's streets aimlessly, feeling so throughoutly lost that it scared him. He walked for what felt like miles, never even noticing the pouring rain, until he froze all of a sudden.

Right before his eyes was a beautiful, most likely old chapel.

'Fiat Lux', had been engraved to the wood of the door.

William didn't have a clue of what he was doing. But his body seemed to know. He made his way to the door and yanked it open with what felt like the last of his strength, then took a step inside.

The chapel was tiny and very beautiful. Only candles provided it light. Aside William only one nun was present, deeply focused on a prayer. Something about the place calmed him down a little bit, invited him further. Still uncertain he walked on, in the end sliding to one of the chapel's ten long benches.

William hadn't prayed in years. But right there and then, before the picture of Mary and Joseph holding baby Jesus, he bowed his head and crossed his fingers.


When Derek opened his eyes again Emily was sitting beside his bed instead of Aaron. There was a far too solemn look on her pale face.

She tried to smile at him. "Hey. I'm not sure if you remember but you woke up a couple of hours ago. You weren't exactly… coherent back then." She offered him a huge plastic mug full of water. "Feeling any better?"

Derek nodded, then drank gratefully and swallowed, forcing himself into a proper sitting position although his head didn't appreciate the effort. "Anything?"

Emily sighed, visibly wondering how much she should reveal. "Foyet… hasn't talked much, yet." She brought up a hand to straighten her hair. Her fingernails had been bitten recently. "There's… a lot of people looking for Spencer. So far they've found nothing but blood."

Those words felt worse than any punch. Derek's eyes actually watered from the pain. "But he's still alive." It was more than just a statement – it was a desperate plea.

Emily swallowed loudly, a look he'd never seen before in her eyes. "Morgan…"

"He's still alive, Prentiss." Derek didn't give a damn if he was screaming. Why wouldn't she believe him? Why wouldn't she believe in Spencer? "He's… He's still alive! And I won't just lay down and wait until I've found him!"

Emily sighed, appearing very tired all of a sudden. "I know you won't." There was a torn look in her eyes and suddenly he felt a hint of guilt for yelling at her. It was deviously easy to forget that he wasn't the only person Spencer had formed a bond with. She went on after a long, thoughtful pause, clearly careful with her words. "But… You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that what we find may not be what we're all hoping for."

Something about those words screamed out a warning. Derek frowned, the flames of anger turning into smouldering fear. "Prentiss, what the hell is going on?"

Emily swallowed and hesitated, looked into his eyes, until she seemed to come to a decision that there was no way she could keep this from him. "Foyet… Since we found him he's been telling us that Spencer is already dead. The amount of blood we found upon arresting Foyet supports that theory."

Derek felt dizzy and so sick to his stomach that he feared he might throw up right there and then. He kept waiting for waking up from this horrible dream but nothing such ever happened. Emily was still sitting there, looking at him with those incredibly sad eyes.

There was no hope. Nothing but the absolute, foolish resolve in Derek's heart.

Emily's hand reached out towards him. He dodged. "Morgan…"

Derek didn't reply, instead focused his attention on the window. Outside rain was falling, hard and merciless.

Derek bit his teeth together until he tasted blood.

It didn't matter what he'd have to do. He would find Spencer. There was no way in hell he'd let go of the best thing that'd ever found its way into his life, even if everyone else had given up.

An hour later, convinced that Derek was asleep, Emily left to get some coffee and update Aaron. When she came back the room was empty.


The interrogation room was suffocatingly hot as unit chief Aaron Hotchner stared unblinkedly at the man sitting on the opposite side of the table. "I'm asking you again. After that you will be offered no chance for a deal of any sort. If you don't help us now I won't be able to help you, either", he announced in a tone that would've chilled just about anyone's spine. His eyes changed, became those of the dangerous vulture. "Where is he?"

George Foyet's eyes finally met his. There was amusement, almost mockery, in them. "Do you believe that you can still win this game, agent?"

Aaron squeezed the edges of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white. Fire burned in his veins, and he had to remind himself that he couldn't give the other man the pleasure of him losing his composure. Nothing changed on his face as he spoke again, his tone eerily calm. "Once more. Where is he?"

Foyet smiled, revealing a row of white teeth, then leaned closer to him as though about to trust him with a great secret. "Aaron, I'm sure you're familiar with my history. Do you honestly think you're going to find him alive?"

For a couple of moments Aaron simply stared at the monster before him. Then he did the only thing he could under the circumstances.

He got up, turned around and left the room, his steps betraying nothing of the inferno rising inside him. The interrogation room's door made a hollow sound when closing behind him.

The first person he saw outside the room was Derek.

The dark skinned man stood directly behind the window separating him from Foyet, appearing fully ready to tear the killer into pieces. Dark flames burned in the agent's eyes while a haunted look lingered on his face.

Aaron sighed, taking a step closer to the other man. It'd been a long, nightmarish day. This most definitely wasn't something he would've been willing to deal with. "Morgan…"

"Let me in."

Aaron folded his arms. "You know I can't do that. There's no telling what you'd do to him if you'd get into the same room."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "I'd be able to make him talk."

Aaron's eyebrow arched. "How?"

They stared at each other for the longest time, two alpha males of which neither was willing to give in an inch. And then Aaron's cell phone started ringing.

He picked up with sheer reluctance. "Agent Hotchner."

"It's me." Emily's voice was a lot shakier than normal. He heard her swallow hard. "There's… something you should see, right now. Don't bring Morgan with you."

Cold shivers traveled through him and he tried hard not to look towards the dark skinned man. "Alright." He cleared his throat. "I'll be there in a second." Hanging up, he was glad to discover that it looked like Derek hadn't even listened to the phone call. The man's eyes were locked on Foyet, hungry for blood. He put a hand on Derek's shoulder, knowing full well the risks of receiving a violent reaction. This agent Morgan wasn't the one he'd known and worked with for years. "Morgan." His tone was hard, authoritative. It succeeded in making the said man look at him. "We're going, now. Before you end up doing something neither of us is able to repair."

Derek's jaw twitched. It took a while before any sound came. "Fine."

Later Aaron would blame himself for trusting the dark skinned man's reason too much, for failing to profile a member of his team. For as they left the room he should've known to expect that Derek would go back.


While Aaron headed off to meet Emily to find out if anything new had been discovered Derek made his way to the building's restroom. Once there he stared at his reflection from the mirror for the longest time, almost scared by the amount of sheer rage that flickered in his eyes.

Spencer's voice echoed inside his head.

/ '5… 83… 191… 307… 431…' /

He could still feel Spencer's lips on his.

/ 'You're here. I'm here. We don't need to name it yet.' /

He felt Spencer. His promises mixed with the genius' voice.

/ 'I promised, remember? I'm not going to give up.' /

/ 'I miss you.' /

When Derek left the room shards of glass from the mirror were left as evidence of him being there.

There was a armed security guard stood outside the interrogation room's door when Derek made his way there. "I'm here to interview the suspect", he announced.

The guard, a child faced man who looked barely past his twenties, appeared alarmed, already fumbled for his weapon. The younger man swallowed. "I'm gonna have to take a look at your credentials."

Irritation nearly boiling over Derek did as ordered, receiving a nod of approval from the visibly relieved guard. He felt almost sorry for the kid as he entered the room, bolting the door from the inside. Almost.

As he entered the actual interrogation room and was finally face to face with Foyet Derek didn't have the slightest clue of what he was feeling. Perhaps he felt so much that in the end he became utterly numb.

As though it'd all been just some sort of a nightmare Foyet's head turned. It was then he noticed the bruises on the man's bare arms, along with the split lip. He wondered if the injuries had come during the arrest. Quite fast he decided that he didn't care.

A flash later Foyet saw him. Immediately a chilling smirk appeared. "Well hello, Derek. I've been waiting for you."


TBC, riiight?


A/N: Oh boy…! (sweatdrops) Those two ending up face to face can't promise anything good. 'Wonder what'll happen next…

PLEASE, leave a note before you go! It'd make me high as a kite with happiness. So… Pwease? I've got some Easter goodies as a reward… (winks)

IN THE NEXT ONE: The stakes are high as Morgan confronts Foyet. Is Reid really dead, and if he isn't will they find him alive? With each precious second time keeps slipping away in '… And Back'.

Until next time, everyone! I truly hope you'll all decide to join in then.

Take care!


Nicolethecrazyone: Seriously? (beams) That feels incredibly good to hear!

For now all we can do is cross our fingers and hope for the best. It'd be absolutely horrible if things ended badly for those boys, no? (winces)

'Hope you'll keep enjoying the ride.

Gigantic thank yous for the review!


ilsa: Technology can be so irritating, no? (groans)

It's been really fascinating to write Foyet's character. Seeing his thoughts and feelings put on words is much more affective than just watching them on screen. I'm glad to hear you've enjoyed that aspect as well. (beams) Characterization is something I ALWAYS work hard on, so I'm flattered to hear you think I've succeeded.

I truly hope the rest won't fall flat, either.

Colossal thank yous for the review!


Katsakura: Poor Spencer, no? And Derek, too. (sighs)

We'll see exactly what's happened. All we can do right now is hope that for once Foyet had at least an ounce of humanity and affection inside him. It's Spencer's only hope.

Mega sized thank yous for the review!


Reidland: So many questions left unanswered, no? The story's coming to an end soon. We'll see how everything falls into place… (shudders)

'Hope the next one pleases you as well.

Huge thank yous for the review!