Brennan's cell pierced through the silence that was the night. Beside her, Booth groaned, flipping onto his other side.

"Shut that thing off," he complained, groggily. Brennan sighed and sat up. She was about to remark that it must be important if someone was calling at this hour when Booth's cell also went off. The two cells screeched; an eerie sound. Booth grumbled and sat up, reaching for his.

Brennan opened hers first.

"Hello?"

Cam's voice was taught. "We have a case."

Brennan glanced over at Booth, who was also talking on his phone.

"Great, a case." He said to whoever was on the other end of his line. "I'll see it in the morning."

"Is that Booth?" Cam asked, slightly distracted.

"What? No, it's-" Brennan struggled for an excuse, but before she had time, Booth's startled voice stopped her.

"You're sure?" He demanded.

Cam's voice drew her back. "Brennan? Still there? The body's been dead less than a day. And it's bad. Really bad."

There was a shocking amount of people there, making the scene even more hectic. The flashing lights of the police vehicles reflected off of walls. Everyone hurried about, faces tense. They both felt it. There was something odd happening, something slightly more urgent about this case.

Cam spotted them and came over, bearing coffee, which they both gladly accepted. "Drink it up, because you're sure as hell not falling back asleep after this."

Brennan shot Booth a look, full of curiosity. They followed Cam through the sea of officials. It parted as Angela came towards them. She looked like she was going to puke all over everyone close to her. The artist paused, looked like she was going to say something before shaking her head and heading back the way they had come. Booth returned the look.

"Ready?" Cam asked. Brennan narrowed her eyes, and Booth nodded. She ducked under the caution tape and crouched near the body.

Or, the head of the body.

Both anthropologist and agent stopped in their tracks. He inhaled deeply, and Brennan stared at the scene with a sharp eye.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Cam's voice seemed distant. The crime was gruesome. A badly burned, disfigured head, severed at the base of the neck, stood upright on the concrete. Blood pooled around it, disturbingly like a red finger-painted canvas.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Booth said.

The rest of the body was found hanging from a window just around the corner, bloody and battered as horrifically as the head had been. Brennan was fascinated; spending hours crouched next to the head, more concentrated than Booth had ever seen before. It was scary, admittedly, striking dread in everyone's mind. Booth was right: there was no possible way this could end well.

Just as dawn threatened to break, everything that could've been done at the crime scene was finished, leaving a team of techs to prep all the evidence for transportation to the Jeffersonian. Already exhausted, Brennan and Booth paused from the horror to get a bite to eat.

They were the only ones there, wake when everyone else was fast asleep. They ate in silence, forcing the food down by habit rather then giving themselves enough time to think about the fact they were eating. It was a useful skill.

"I can tell you're still in a fight with Angela," He commented.

"Small disagreement, we'll get over it soon." She countered.

"She's probably shaken up by that scene. Even I am…"

"And me." She added, in a small voice. He looked up, eyes dancing with tender affection.

"Must be the pregnancy."

"Must." He agreed.

"I don't want to discuss it."

"Okay."

They finished eating, and headed back to the Jeffersonian. There was a lot of work to do, yet Booth followed her inside. She stripped of her jumpsuit and reached for her lab coat, eager to get to the bones. She turned to him.

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked. He shook his head and nodded.

"Just thinking."

"What about?" She inquired.

He shrugged. "The usual. This case, the brutality of human beings, and us."

She smiled, didn't glance around, and kissed him. "I like it when you say that."

He smiled faintly back. "It's true. Speaking of which…"

"Yes?"

"We should tell the team. Soon. Before things get… Harrowing."

She nodded, thinking about the close encounter with Cam that morning. "You think the case is going to be upsetting?"

His gaze hardened. "How could you look at that body and not think so?"

"We'll get whoever it is," She reassured.

He exhaled through his teeth. "We better."

Daisy poked her head in. "Dr Brennan? We're waiting for you up on the platform."

"I'll be right there." She said to her intern. "Are you coming?" She turned to Booth.

Booth nodded. "I'll see what my squints can do."

They followed Daisy – who was unreasonable cheery – up to the others on the platform. Cam was just snapping on gloves. Daisy and Brennan did the same. Hodgins was inspecting the remains closely without touching them. Booth joined Angela at the foot of the table.

"Is there anything for you?" Brennan asked Cam. The pathologist half-shrugged.

"It's pretty badly burned. I'll see if I can cut inside."

"No insect activity," Hodgins said, receiving looks from everyone.

"What? It's protocol." He defended himself.

"God, I can still smell it," Angela said. "It smells like –"

" – burned flesh?" Booth finished.

"Got it!" Cam interjected as she had been trying to somehow open the body. A foul stench rose.

"Ugh," Angela said.

"Apparently not burned enough." Cam said. "Most organs are still intact."

"So you'll perform a proper autopsy?"

The coroner nodded, signaling some technicians to help her get the body to her lab.

Meanwhile, Booth pointed at the gap between the neck and shoulders.

"Cause of death? Decapitation?"

Brennan shrugged with one shoulder. "Very possible. We won't know until after both of our examinations."

Booth turned to Angela. "Can you do some research? Try to figure out the blood pattern?"

She nodded.

"Miss Wick, I'd like the bones cleaned once Cam's done."

She nodded, too.

Everyone cleared off the platform, leaving Booth and Brennan. The latter briefly shut her eyes. The former looked at her sympathetically.

"Go home and get some sleep, alright?"

She started to protest, but he wouldn't allow it.

"I mean it. Get some rest. We're going to need you alert and ready later on. And the baby deserves it."

She nodded, giving in, glad she was given permission to go home and collapse into bed.

It was around noon when she came to, disoriented by the time. She curled up and reached over to hug the pillow next to her. A warm feeling spread over her as Booth's scent engulfed her senses.

She checked her cell – no calls yet from Cam or Daisy. None from Booth – but she expected that. He wouldn't have disturbed her for the world. She was eager to call in to see if there was any news, but other needs grabbed her attention. Her stomach growled grumpily.

She yawned and poured herself some cereal, cutting up a banana and adding a few strawberries.

She put her dish into the sink and dialed Booth.

"Booth here. How'd you sleep?"

"Well, thank you. Anything new?"

"We're waiting for the squints to come up with something for a lead. Have you called the lab yet?"

"No, I will now."

She was getting out of the car at the Jeffersonian when she did.

"Cam."

"How'd the autopsy go?"

There was a brief pause. "Didn't find anything new. Sent for a tox screen."

"Did you manage to ID the vic?"

"No. I want you here."

"Okay, I'll be there."

Cam was waiting when she got there. "What's the deal?"

"There are no teeth."

"What? The body hasn't even been dead for 24 hours yet."

Cam opened the jaw. "Take a look."

Brennan did. "Looks like they've been pulled. Why?"

Cam shrugged. "Beats me. Dental records won't help any. Good news, though. We can try for finger prints."

"Enough skin isn't burned?"

"Yep, I just did them now."

"We'll see if we get a hit."

"Want the bones cleaned?"

"Yes."

Brennan decided she should probably see how Angela was doing. She didn't really want to, truthfully. She hated being at odds with her friend.

The artist was in her office. Brennan stared at her. She looked tired and wary.

"Angela?"

She grew warier, turning to her. Didn't respond.

"Did you get anything?"

The artist got up and pulled a picture of the crime scene.

"Not yet. See, the blood seems to have been smeared in a crude rendition of a sun."

"You're thinking symbol?"

"Possibly. Or a gang or something. It's definitely some sort of message."

"Okay. Keep up the good work." It even sounded forced and fake to her. Brennan dismissed herself, but paused at the door.

"Are you alright?" She asked gently.

At first it seemed Angela wasn't going to answer.

"Too much cruelty."

Brennan nodded understandingly. "Even I see that."

"Do you? Every time I see it I think of Michael Vincent… That's someone's kid…"

Guilt made a fist around Brennan's heart, tightening until hurt seeped through its claws. She didn't respond, instead leaving Angela to stare at the gruesome pictures.

Cam caught her on the way back to her office, a slight smirk gracing her features. Brennan cast her a few tentative looks, musing at the reason behind her boss' sly expression. When the pathologist turned towards her lab, Brennan let it pass, turning in the opposite direction.

"So who was that, on the phone?"

Cam's words made the anthropologist freeze. The latter swallowed; turned. "Sorry?"

"Today. When I called you at four in the morning." Cam crossed her arms, brows raised, amusement clear all over her face.

"No one," Brennan felt the heat crawl up her neck.

"Didn't sound like no one," Cam persisted. "Sounded like a familiar voice to me."

She turned bright red, casted Cam a glance that the New Yorker immediately understood – her assumption was correct, but she dare not say anything about it.

With an almost imperceptible nod, Cam showed she got the message. Relief washed over Brennan's face, who turned to walk briskly away. A slow grin spread on Cam's lips.

"No matches," Booth said, angrily. "We have nothing. Zip-o. Square one."

Brennan was still half-listening. "Don't worry, Booth, it's still early in the game."

No matches had been found for the fingerprints, meaning the victim wasn't committed for crime prior to his death. Brennan toyed with her pen. "I'll get Angela on the reconstruction."

"Good. Check again if she has anything on the blood splatter, too."

Brennan sighed. Her second trip to Angela's in as many hours. Her friend was still guarded, hurt from the time Brennan choked on what she was going to say.

"Find anything yet?" She asked. Angela gave her a wary glance.

"Yes, actually. Does this look familiar?" Angela brought up a picture of a red sun, a skull centered in the middle. It was horrifically familiar – a painting of the crime scene. Brennan suppressed a shiver. "Where did you find it?"

"Here, on this website." Angela tapped her handheld, switching to a very basic webpage. The background was black; in red was written: "the Dead of Stones".

"It's some kind of cult." Angela explained. "They seem to worship a mix of satanic beings from different religions and beliefs. All that's evil, pretty much. From my guess, seems to be a new movement."

Brennan nodded, "Can you find names of members and affiliates?"

Angela shook her head. "I can try, but I doubt it."

"Okay, thank you."

"I'll finish the facial reconstruction by tonight."

"Booth will be pleased."

Brennan shifted awkwardly, unsure how to respond and at a loss for words in a bad, uncomfortable way. Daisy (quite literally) popped in just then, and Brennan had never been happier to see the energetic intern.

"Doctor Brennan," She sang, "The bones are ready!"

The anthropologist immediately relaxed. This was her thing. She went to join her intern, standing by her side. She meant to say something to Angela, a "see you later" or so, but instead just turned and left. She returned to her bones, something she knew and understood, and it calmed her frayed nerves.

Protocol was a constant, reassuringly so. And even Daisy didn't bother her. She picked up the skull. Daisy watched as her mentor began to frown.

"Look at this," Brennan said, and Daisy reached for the skull. Brennan swung a magnifier around.

"The cut is clean," Daisy noted. "And… Oh. Oh my. He wasn't killed by decapitation."

"No," Brennan agreed. "Or at least didn't feel it. This, too."

She showed Daisy a vertebra.

"Puncture wound."

"So small no wonder Cam missed it."

"Through the spinal cord?"

Brennan nodded gravely, and Daisy said something very unlike her.

"We're dealing with some sick assholes, aren't we?"

For once Brennan understood the question need not be answered.

"I agree with Daisy," Booth stated when Brennan called. "I told you I had a bad feeling."

Brennan shifted restlessly – out of unease or physical discomfort, she didn't know.

"I want to tell the team," Brennan blurted. "About us. So I can tell Angela about the baby," And let Cam off the hook, she thought.

She could tell he was surprised by the sound of his voice. "Okay. When?"

"Tonight." She didn't leave time for him to respond. "We can meet at the Founding Fathers. I just want everyone to relax about the case. We deserve a night off."

"Alright." He said, warm relief seeping through his words "Okay."

"Good." She said, and then, "I'll call you if I learn anything else."

She didn't. The day went on. She found nothing new to help with the ID. Both got no leads. The only productive thing that happened was Angela's finished reconstruction looking for matches with Missing Persons.

Everyone was glad when the long day dragged to an end. Brennan was relieved as she turned off her desk light, grabbed her coat, and joined Booth in his car.

The team was already there – Angela was talking to Cam. Sweets and Hodgins stood pounding back a beer as Daisy sat underneath them and listened, a carefree grin on her face. The mood was festive – work had clearly been left back at the lab.

Booth and Brennan ordered drinks – Brennan discreetly getting a ginger ale. They joined in the conversations, deciding to socialize for a little before revealing their secret.

Booth stepped next to Brennan, clearing his throat only slightly. No need – curious eyes glued to his face in an instant.

He started to say something, and then grinned. Wrapping an arm around Brennan, he stared at his friends and said, "We finally did it."

Realization dawned and the table erupted in cheers and laughter.

"I should've known!" Exclaimed Sweets.

"Even I guessed it," Cam said.

"What? When?" Booth was dubious.

She shrugged. "I'm just that good."

"Liar," Booth accused good-heartedly.

Daisy squealed.

"Finally," Offered Hodgins.

"For the record, I knew." Angela stated.

"Well, duh." Someone retorted and laughter ensued.

"Cheers!" Sweets called, and glasses banged.

"Congratulations," Cam said warmly. Both of them just grinned.

The group continued to celebrate. To Brenna's glee, Angela and her talked and the tense situation of before lessened. The atmosphere grew even more cheery, and soon the case was nothing but a faint memory.

After everyone left, Booth, Brennan, and Angela remained. Booth went to pay the tab, leaving the two women to talk.

Angela was smiling, finishing her drink.

"I'm glad you told them."

"Me, too." Brennan agreed. A comfortable silence stretched between them.

"I owe you an apology," Angela started.

"No, I-" Brennan began to interrupt, but Angela held up a finger, telling her to wait her out.

"I overreacted. I'm sorry. I know you'll say whatever it is in good time. It's not my place to get grumpy. You obviously weren't ready, and that's okay. As your best friend, it's my duty to wait."

Instead of the guilt that Brennan had grown so accustomed to feeling, gratitude and affection for her friend ran through her. "Thank you," She said. "That means a lot."

"No problem," Angela grinned. Booth walked up, on his phone, looking worried and agitated.

"What is it?" Both of them said together.

Booth looked at them a long time after he shut his phone.

"We ID'ed the vic. His name is Wesley."

"Last name?"

Booth let the question hang. "It's Hodgins' cousin."

The following morning at the lab was tense. Brennan had barely slept, appreciating the morning's coffee. The team was determined, though. This struck too close to home.

At some point that morning Brennan was surprised to see Booth in her office. His face was grim – she knew she wouldn't like what he had to say.

"What is it?" She braced herself.

He put his hand on his belt. "I want you to hear me out."

Brennan nodded cautiously, spotting Angela in the doorway out of the corner of her eye.

"I've had bad feelings about this case all along. It just makes me uneasy, and we know my gut is usually right. Now that we've identified the victim and things will only get harder…"

"Just say it, Booth."

"Given all the circumstances," He put the emphasis on all, "I want you off the case. For your safety."

Completely shocked and slightly taken aback, Brennan didn't know how to respond. She immediately opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, Angela spoke.

"Are you crazy?!" The artist addressed both of them, and then focused solely on Brennan. "You can't quit! This is Hodgins' cousin!"

"Ange – "

But the artist was furious. "How could you? Do you feel anything for anyone but yourself anymore?!"

"Angela!" Brennan said more firmly. "I know this hits close to home, but – "

"No." Angela shook her head. "This hits home. My home. And you're no longer welcome."

With that, she stormed away.