Morgan lifted his leg, and with one powerful kick, the door exploded open.
What he saw inside had his heart in his throat.
"Reid!" He yelled, and rushed forwards, the others right behind him. The younger man was laid out on the floor in an awkward position, his eyes closed and his forehead covered in blood.
"Jesus," Rossi said, sounding horrified. "What the hell happened in here?"
The room was totally trashed, with splintered wood from the furniture and shattered glass littering the floor.
Morgan landed in a crouch on the floor beside Reid, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey!" he said loudly. "Reid!"
He looked back, ready to tell someone to call for help, but Hotch was already on it, his phone to his ear as he stepped back into the hall.
"Where's JJ?" Prentiss asked. No one had an answer.
Morgan had been sleeping. He'd been sleeping, and just down the hall, this had happened. How the hell had this happened? The others had shown up looking to swap shifts, and when they hadn't been able to get a hold of Reid or JJ…
Derek turned back to Reid, and put his fingers on the side of his neck, searching for a pulse. After a moment, he let out a sigh of relief. "He's alive," he said.
"Oh, thank god," Prentiss breathed.
"Good," Rossi said. "But we need to move. This happened recently. It's possible the unsub – and JJ – are still on the property. Morgan, you stay here with Reid. Emily, help me case the building."
Prentiss immediately nodded, and the two of them ran out of the room, their guns out in front of them and looking this way and that for signs of the intruder.
Derek looked down at Reid, his pulse beating loudly in his ears. He couldn't think about JJ right now – the others had it taken care of. He needed to do what he could here.
"Reid," he said again insistently. "Can you hear me?"
His eyes stayed closed.
Morgan reached a hand up and brushed Reid's bangs out of the way to get a better look at the wound. Below was a cut about an inch and a half long, but it was impossible to tell how deep it was because of the blood that was still seeping out of it and dripping towards the floor. The area around it was already swollen and discolored. He'd seen much worse head wounds, but there was no doubt that Reid would be in a world of discomfort from this.
He reached out and grabbed a clean-looking shirt, folding it up before pressing it down firmly over the wound. Maybe he could at least get the bleeding to stop.
At the pressure, Reid's eyelids fluttered, and then opened. He squinted against the light. "Morgan?" Reid said hoarsely.
"Reid," Derek replied, smiling. "Hey, pretty boy. Welcome back."
But Reid wasn't listening. Instead, he was squirming, trying to look around the room. His breathing picked up. "JJ," he said, his voice slurring. "Morgan, where's JJ? She – she –"
Derek didn't know what to say. His chest strained at the pain in Reid's voice.
Then Reid's gaze locked onto his. "His eyes," he said intensely. There was a fear in his voice that Morgan had rarely heard. "Morgan, his eyes. They were red."
"What?" Derek said, alarmed. "What are you saying?"
Reid grasped his sleeve, staring wildly at Morgan. "He's not human." He was shaking slightly. "I don't think he's human."
Morgan shook his head. "Reid. Spencer. Take a breath, man. You're not thinking straight."
"No. I – no, no, no –"
"Calm down," Derek said, giving his voice a steadiness that he didn't feel. "Look at me. Breathe, Reid."
Reid swallowed roughly, and looked around frantically. "JJ… Something happened to JJ… Where is she –"
Morgan wanted to console him, but there was no truth he could say about JJ that would do that. "Deep breaths, c'mon kid. Work with me here. Deep breaths."
Slowly, Reid calmed down, and Derek was able to get him into a sitting position propped up against the bed. He closed his eyes and breathed purposefully, holding the makeshift bandage Derek had grabbed to his forehead on his own.
There was a noise behind him, and Derek spun quickly, pulling his gun from its holster.
"Morgan, it's me," Hotch said, his hands up in front of himself.
Feeling a little foolish, Derek put his gun away. "Sorry," he muttered.
Hotch just stepped up beside him, looking down at Reid. "The paramedics are almost here. How is he?"
Morgan was about to answer when Reid turned to the side and vomited, just barely missing throwing up in his own lap.
"Oh, geez, Reid," Derek said, bringing his hand up to cover his nose. "Warn a guy, why don't you."
Hotch, staring at the mess, brought his phone back up to his ear and asked for an update on the ambulance.
Forty-five minutes later, Reid had been admitted to the ER with a concussion, his face bandaged but still bruised.
Derek pulled back the curtain dividing Reid's bed from the others in the room, and looked down at his friend. Despite the doctors' care, he still didn't look good. But at the same time he couldn't help but be grateful; Joe Bartlett hadn't been so lucky.
"Morgan," Reid said urgently. He looked about a minute away from throwing up again. Backing up that idea was the emesis basin in his lap. "Tell me what's going on. Have they found her? Do you know what's happening?"
Morgan shook his head, and pulled a chair close to Reid's bed before sitting down. "We're trying, Reid. We don't know anything yet. But we will, okay? We're gonna find her."
Reid shook his head. He looked scared out of his wits.
"Reid?" Morgan said. "Take a breath, okay? We still have time."
Spencer fought to steady his breathing, and then gagged. On the next breath, he was throwing up again. Morgan winced. Damn, he must have really hit his head good to be feeling this bad.
"Shit, man. Take it easy, now."
Reid spit once more into the bowl and then took a few long, deep breaths. "When can I leave?" he said. "We need to be looking for her."
Derek shook his head. "Hey, no. I know you want to help, but you need to take care of yourself. I mean, look at you." He gestured to the emesis basin. "You're not okay."
"I can still help," Reid argued, grabbing the bowl and putting it angrily on the side table.
There was an opening in the curtain, and Hotch stepped through. "Yes, you can," he said. "But only after the doctors say it's alright for you to leave."
Reid protested, "But –"
"No," Hotch cut him off firmly. He glanced at Morgan, and then back down at the bed. "I just spoke to your doctor, actually. They want you to get an MRI to make sure you're not bleeding into your brain."
"Yeah, okay," Morgan said. "No way in hell we're chancing that. You're staying."
Reid frowned, and crossed his arms over his chest. But finally, he nodded.
"Good," Hotch said with finality. "Now, we will be doing everything in our power to look for JJ; you know that. But before we leave, we need to hear from you: can you tell us what you saw? Did you see your attacker?"
Reid swallowed, his face pale. The fight had drained out of him, and now it looked like he was barely keeping himself upright. The bandage on his forehead was a stark reminder of what happened. Morgan was tempted to push him back down on the bed, but he knew the kid wouldn't appreciate it. "I didn't see anything. He got me from behind." He shared a glance with Morgan. "I mean I thought – I thought I saw red eyes. But it must have been a trick of the light." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I should have realized what was happening faster –"
"This isn't your fault, Reid," Hotch said firmly. "You two are both competent agents. You were caught off-guard. It could have happened to any of us."
Morgan nodded. "He's right, man. We're just glad you're alive. We'll find JJ."
Reid looked between them, and nodded shakily.
Derek considered his friend. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.
"I'll be fine," Reid said, only half convincingly. "Just a concussion – nothing I haven't worked through before."
"Just don't push yourself," Hotch said. "You're no use to us, or to JJ, out for the count. Stay here, get the MRI. When the doctors clear you, you can leave. Not before. Understood?"
Morgan couldn't help but notice something in Reid's eyes – the sort of stubbornness that the kid was famous for. Nevertheless, Reid nodded. "Yes, sir."
Morgan just hoped this moment wouldn't come back to bite them.
They all sat together in the station, light from the sunset filtering in through the blinds. Except there was one chair that was noticeably empty.
"This is awful," Garcia said over the phone. "Can we all just agree on the fact that this is horrifying? Oh, God – JJ."
"We know, Garcia," Hotch said sternly. He looked around at all of them. "She deserves our focus right now. When we find her, we can give her our care and support. Does everyone understand?"
Nods all around.
"Now, Reid is alright. He has a concussion, but he's getting the treatment he needs. He'll join us if and when he can."
The others accepted this information, too.
Hotch gestured to the folders in front of himself. "Well then. Some new evidence arrived in the coroner's reports for Joe and Martha Bartlett, and the lab results from the blood found in the Winchesters' car."
He passed the folder to his left, and Prentiss opened it.
"It looks like the time of death for both Joe and Martha doesn't match up with our arrest of Dean Winchester. The neighbor who reported the crime said he saw a figure that matched Dean's description at Joe Bartlett's house at dawn, around 6 am. But the coroner report lists the time of death for Joe Bartlett between midnight and 2 am that morning."
"From what we know about the unsub, he wouldn't stick around that long," Rossi said.
"Exactly. Additionally, Martha Bartlett's time of death was estimated to be around noon today."
Morgan looked between them all. "Both of the Winchesters were already in custody by then."
"What about the blood?" Garcia asked.
Hotch looked over at Prentiss, who raised her eyes from the lab report. She glanced at Hotch, and then back at the rest of them, incredulous. "The blood wasn't a match for any of the victims. And the reason it came back so quickly was that it wasn't human blood at all – it's sheep's blood."
Rossi shook his head. "So we've been following a false trail this whole time? The Winchesters… could it really just be a coincidence?"
"Regardless of why they're here," Hotch said, "They no longer factor into this investigation. We need to go back to the drawing board; disregard any connection to the Winchesters. Beyond them, what do we have?"
"We have the profile," Morgan said.
"Robert Freeman," said Prentiss. "He was the most likely suspect before the Winchesters turned up."
"I'll look into his connections in town," Rossi said.
Morgan spoke up. "And I'll focus on Emma Crawford; it's possible her family haven't come forward with information on where he could be hiding."
"I'll scour any security footage," Garcia added. "There's no way they just vanished."
"Alright, good," Hotch said. "Besides that, we should get some feet on the ground. Prentiss, you work with Combs to organize a door knock search and set up checkpoints at every exit out of town."
Prentiss nodded.
"Right. Let's get to work. Based on when Martha Bartlett was killed, we have a time frame of about twelve hours." Hotch looked at all of them. "Now, let's get JJ home safe."
Reid winced against the sun as he punched the key-code into the back door of the police station. His head hurt worse than the migraines that he still got, making his stomach churn with nausea. But there was no way – there was no way he could have stayed in that ER for even a minute longer than he had.
So, he'd signed the papers he'd needed to sign and walked out. And if there was anything wrong with his head (which, not like that was anything new), it could wait until all of this was over.
Still, the dark cool of the back room was a relief to his pounding head. He slipped inside silently, the door shutting with a click behind him.
He looked around carefully, making sure there was no one around to see what he did next.
Spencer slipped into the mercifully unmanned computer room, the monitors showing feeds of the entire police station. His gaze landed on one that showed the room the BAU had been using as their base. He could see grainy footage of Prentiss and Hotch, deep in discussion with one another, pointing at various photos and documents on the case board.
But, with the flip of a switch, the feed went dark. All the other cameras were turned off soon after.
Because what happened next couldn't be recorded.
Spencer stepped away from the computers, his heart beating loudly in his ears. What he was about to do… it wasn't right. It wasn't smart. And it certainly wasn't legal. When word got out about this, he'd be done. He'd be removed from his position in the BAU, fired from the FBI, and likely locked up on criminal charges.
But somehow, he still knew this was the only way. If they were going to find JJ, and get her safe before it was too late, he needed to do this. He'd been circling towards the answer since he'd woken up on the floor of the hotel room. And now he knew.
They needed the Winchesters.
The door to the cell room slammed closed behind him, the sound echoing through the quiet space. Dean and Sam looked up at him warily from their respective cells.
Reid looked up at the camera in the corner, checking to see that the light was off. He was relieved to see that what he'd done had worked.
Dean broke the silence. "What happened to your head?"
Spencer's hand twitched, but he stopped himself from reaching up to touch the bandage. Still, he knew the anxiety was rolling off of him in waves.
"Dr. Reid…" Sam was looking at him carefully, like he could tell that something had changed. "What's going on?"
Spencer steeled himself, and looked Sam in the eye. "You said salt would stop a ghost. What stops a demon?"
Sam's eyes widened, and he shot a serious glance at his brother. "What did you see?"
"I saw you use salt to protect us from that – that thing." He double-checked the camera again. When he looked back at Sam, the man was staring at him intently, his brow furrowed. "Sam," he said, speaking a truth that was both necessary and terrifying. "I believe you."
"Shit," Dean said loudly.
Spencer and Sam turned at the noise.
Dean just raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. Just – Can't say I expected this one."
Reid leveled at gaze back at him. "Neither did I. But I can't deny what I saw."
"You saw a demon?" Sam said.
"I –" Reid shook his head. "I don't know what I saw. But whatever it is, it moved without making a sound. And its eyes… they were bright red. It attacked me. And it took JJ – Agent Jareau. She's missing."
Dean stood suddenly. "See? We've been locked up in here. This wasn't us. None of this was us."
He pushed the words from his mouth. "I know." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a set of keys. Wordlessly, the Winchesters watched as he unlocked first Sam's cell, and then Dean's.
The two men stepped out slowly in disbelief. Reid saw Dean step closer to his brother, giving him an obvious once-over. Sam was looking at Reid, his face wary.
"Don't make me regret this," Reid said to him. "And help me find my friend."
Sam looked at Dean, and the two of them nodded.
"Alright," Dean said. "Let's get this mother fucker."
Angie sat in the police station break room, looking down at the stains on the table in front of her. Her mind was swirling, and she tried to focus. But it was a little hard to do that when her life was crumbling down around her, and she had absolutely nothing to do in the meantime.
She wondered when they'd burst in here and arrest her. She couldn't believe it hadn't happened already. Because, if they did – they wouldn't be wrong.
Angie shook her head. No. She didn't mean for all this to happen. Things never should have gotten to where they were now.
Still, the anticipation was killing her. She was sweating madly, and kept downing cups of coffee just to have something to do with her hands. At this point though, the caffeine was making her heart jump like a jackrabbit.
A buzzing sound split through the silence, and she nearly leapt out of her skin before she realized it was her phone. She picked it up off the table and looked at the number. Not one that she knew. But… she answered it, and held it to her ear.
"Angie," a deep voice said.
Angie's jaw dropped. "Dean?" she hissed. "How the hell are you calling me?"
Unsurprisingly, he ignored the question. "Are you alone?"
"Yeah. I'm holed up in the break room."
"We're out back, in a dark blue pick-up. You've got sixty seconds, or we're leaving without you."
Angie blinked. What. "What?"
"You heard me. Fifty-five seconds, now."
She heard the dial tone in her ear. He'd hung up.
She stood, and pushed open the break room door a crack. There was no one in the hall; she knew something had happened recently, because everyone seemed to be very focused on their work. It had been more than an hour since anyone had even checked in on her.
Basically, it was now or never.
Angie steeled herself, took a deep breath, and slipped out.
Rossi pushed open the door to their room in the station to find Prentiss and Hotch deep in discussion. They looked over at him as he entered.
"Any updates?" Hotch said.
Rossi nodded. "I just got off the phone with Emma Crawford's mother. She didn't have much useful to say. She didn't seem to know her daughter all that well, from the sound of it."
"But?" Prentiss prompted.
"But," David continued, "She mentioned that before Emma moved in with Robbie, they would go on hunting trips together in the national forest. Said Robbie had a cabin out there."
Hotch looked properly intrigued by that. "A cabin off the grid? That sounds like an excellent place to hide out."
Prentiss shook her head. "Reid looked through every inch of his files, though. If there had been mention of a cabin, he would have found it."
"Then it must be owned under a different name," Rossi said. "A family member, maybe?"
"Widen the search," Hotch agreed. "Let's see where that lead takes us."
Sam slammed on the gas again, egging the old truck on and trying to get them all as far away from the police station as possible.
"Hey, you got a name, man?" Dean said, turning around to look in the backseat.
The FBI agent met his gaze. "Reid," he replied.
"Dr. Reid," Sam corrected wryly. "Right?"
Dr. Reid raised an eyebrow. "Right."
"Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" Angie said crossly from her seat next to Reid.
"No," Dean snapped. "We'll get to you soon enough. You've got a lot to answer for. In the meantime, keep your trap shut. Got it?"
Angie's eyes widened, and she nodded dumbly.
"Great. Now – Reid, a quick question for you."
"What?"
Dean cocked his head. "You seem like a pretty quick guy. I'm sure whatever we tell you, you'll remember. Is that right?"
Reid nodded.
"Well then – do you want the whole truth, or just part of it? Because once you know this stuff, there's no going back."
Reid looked back steadily. Sam could see his eyes in the rearview mirror, and what he saw in them left no doubt in his mind – the man had seen some shit.
"Everything," Reid said, and Sam wasn't surprised. "Tell me everything."
Officer Keller might not have been able to contribute much to the search for that missing FBI agent, but she could do her job. And right now, that meant delivering dinner to the Winchester brothers.
She walked down the hall to the room of cells in the back of the station, two trays of food balanced in her arms.
From what she'd overheard, the two brothers were no longer considered the prime suspects in the investigation. Still, they had enough dirt on the boys to press charges on them anyway, so they weren't going to be going free for a long, long time. They'd probably be transferred to the county jail by tomorrow. But in the meantime – food.
Keller carefully held both trays in one hand, and reached for the door handle with the other. She pushed the door open with her shoulder, and stepped inside.
In a moment, she took in the room. Six cells, all where they were supposed to be.
But no Winchesters.
"Oh, good Lord."
They pulled the truck over down next to the river, the tires kicking up dirt as they came to a stop.
All of them piled out, and Sam turned the ignition off. Doors slammed.
Then Dean stalked forwards suddenly and reached out to grip Angie's upper arm. "Alright, Angie. Tell us what you know. Tell us what you did."
Angie shook her head. "I – I didn't –"
"Cut the crap," Dean said. "I know you're a witch. I saw the altar in your closet."
"Witch?" repeated Reid quietly. He met Sam's gaze, looking more than troubled.
Angie suddenly had tears sliding down her face, and she pushed them away with the back of her hand. "I – Look, I never meant for any of this to happen, okay? None of it. It just did."
"We're gonna need you to be a little more specific than that, honey," Dean said cuttingly.
"Okay! Okay. It started with Emma," she said roughly, moving away from Dean. "Well… I guess it started with me and her." She ran an anxious hand through her greasy blonde hair. "We've always been best friends. Growing up, we used to play pretend. We'd play like we were in Harry Potter, you know? And that we could do magic." She shrugged. "Then, we grew up. Graduated. Both ended up with asshole boyfriends. And that's when I found the book. And realized that I could do magic for real."
"Book?" Sam cut in. "What book?"
"I saw it," Dean said gruffly, keeping his eyes on Angie. "When I found your altar. A manual for witchcraft 101."
Angie looked ashamed. "We found it in the woods, in this place I thought must have been an old Geotagging spot or something. Back when we all used to go to Connor's hunting cabin together."
"Connor?" Reid asked.
"My ex," Angie explained. She crossed her hands over her chest. "And then… after I figured out it worked, you know, I used it to get Connor to move out of town."
"How?" Reid said.
"Found a banishing charm. And it worked. Maybe a little too well, in retrospect." She looked uncomfortable. "He moved all the way to Sacramento."
"So once you knew it'd done the trick for Connor, you wanted to help Emma out, too," Sam said.
"Yeah. Except Emma didn't see it. She didn't want him gone, you know? No matter what he did to her. She liked him too much." Her mouth twisted in anger. "That asshole didn't know how good he had it."
Sam and Dean shared a look. "So what'd you do to him?" Dean asked.
Angie looked up. "Made him show his true colors, basically. I just wanted him to take it a step further. Just a step! So she'd wake up, and see that she had to leave him." Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. When she spoke again, her voice was thick. "But it worked too well, again, I guess. And he killed her." She let out a sob, covering her face. "I didn't believe it at first. But… yeah. When he disappeared, I thought it was over. Like the spell had made him leave town, too. But – but – those other girls –" She whimpered.
Dean let out a disbelieving scoff. "Shit," he said.
"You turned him into a monster," Sam agreed. He shook his head. "You were playing with fire. Spells like that, they don't do what you want them to. They take what you want, and twist it. Make it their own."
Angie just cried into her hands, her shoulders shaking. "I didn't know!" she sobbed. "I never meant for this to happen! I'm not – I didn't –"
"But you did," Dean said coldly. "And now, you have to help us fix it."
Reid shook his head, looking stressed. Sam couldn't blame him. "How would you even do that to someone? I've read studies about hypnosis being partially effective, and seen some evidence for myself, but not to this extent."
Dean turned to Reid and explained. "Witchcraft can do a lot of wild shit. And it's unpredictable even if you know what you're doing," he said, casting Angie a searing look. "Obviously Angie here didn't set the terms of the spell right, or perform it correctly, or something. And one mixed word in a spell can do a hell of a lot of damage."
Reid just made a face that conveyed just how unhelpful that explanation was.
"Look, man," Sam said. "You can't try and rationalize any of this with any of the laws you think the world follows. You've gotta rewrite your rulebook, here."
Reid frowned, and pointed at Angie. "But somehow, she's responsible for killing those girls? Even though she wasn't the one holding the knife."
"If you follow the chain of events, I'd say yes," Dean said sharply. "She altered reality. Twisted this guy's mind."
"Robbie is an asshole!" Angie snarled. "He would hit her. He was mean to her!"
Sam shouted, "Enough! None of this is helpful. We can work out the blame game later – right now we need to focus on finding Robbie, and the missing agent."
Dean huffed, but stayed quiet otherwise. Angie stared resolutely at a spot on the ground, her chin wavering.
"Great," Sam said flatly. "Thank you. Now. There's the other half of this we still have to figure out. Emma."
Angie looked up at him sharply.
"Emma's what we call a Death Omen," Sam continued. "That means she's a ghost, but not a violent one. She's only been trying to communicate with us, and warn the victims who she knows are next."
"I knew it," Angie said hoarsely. "She would never hurt me."
"She still might," Dean said. "Ghosts who are death omens mean well, but they can't control themselves. Plus, they're not meant to be here; they're meant to move on. The longer they stay on Earth, the more unhinged they get. Not to mention the message she left you about your lies. She could be in the process of turning into a violent spirit."
"As far as we know though, she hasn't hurt anyone," Sam said. "Not yet, anyway. She's just been giving out warnings."
Angie's jaw dropped. "When she came to my house… I knew it wasn't her that trashed it!" Her face went pale. "Oh, my god. He must have been coming after me. She – if I hadn't met you guys – she saved my life!"
"You fit the victimology," Reid said. "If the monster you created from Robbie is after women that look like Emma, the fact that you orchestrated his destruction might not even factor in."
"So he went for the closest next best thing," Dean agreed. "The neighbor."
Reid nodded. "Martha Bartlett."
"And when we thought she was warning you in the station," Sam continued, "She was really warning Jareau." Reid's face pained at the name. "She fits the victim type, too."
"You did burn the body, right?"
Sam nodded at his brother. "Yeah, managed it just before the feds nabbed me. Obviously it didn't take."
They turned to Angie in sync. She refused to look them in the eye.
"Hey," Dean said to her. "Do you have something of Emma's? A lock of her hair, maybe. Or a gift she gave you. It would have to be something meaningful."
Angie clenched her jaw, and shook her head. "No," she said, still not looking at them.
"Angie," Sam warned. "We told you to be honest with us."
"And I am," she said stubbornly. "Maybe she just… didn't want to leave yet."
Dean looked irritated. "Yeah, it doesn't work like that. Now give it up."
"Ghosts can be tied to Earth by an object?"
"Every case is different," Sam said. "But they can."
Reid studied him. "How many ghosts have you seen?"
Sam huffed a laugh. "At this point, we've lost count."
Angie still sat with her mouth closed tightly, eyes on the ground.
"Okay, fine, keep your secrets," said Dean frustratedly, deciding to just move on. "Emma's a potential problem, but Robbie is the real problem. So where the hell is he? No one's seen hide or tail of him since he was arrested, as far as I've heard."
Sam asked Angie, "Is there any place he would go, that you know of? Does he have someplace to hide?"
Dean scratched the back of his head. "Shit, if he's gone crazy he could just be out there prowling the woods or something."
"He does seem to like the woods," Sam mused. "That's where he leaves the bodies. Maybe that's where he kills them, too."
Reid sucked in a breath, and they all turned at the sound to look at him. "Earlier. You mentioned a hunting cabin," he said to Angie intently.
She nodded, a little confused. "Y-yeah. But it's not Robbie's cabin. It was Connor's. He inherited it when his dad died."
"Connor," Reid said, "Who's now in Sacramento."
Sam looked at Dean just in time to see him slowly raise a single eyebrow. He turned back to Angie.
"Where is this cabin, exactly?"
"I can't believe this," Hotch said, looking around at the other agents. Everyone looked similarly shocked and furious. "How did they get out?"
Officer Combs shook her head. "I have no idea. They told me the security cameras had been tampered with – there's no footage of anything from the last hour. The box of evidence from their car is also missing."
"Didn't you put extra guards on them?" Morgan asked.
"I did," Combs said. "But we moved them to have men for the checkpoints you asked for." She lifted her chin. "I'm sorry, but this isn't Quantico! We just don't have the manpower here. I made a call with the resources we had."
Rossi raised a hand and cut off Morgan's likely angry response. "No, she's right. We can't waste time assigning blame, here."
"So what's our next move?" Prentiss said.
"We already have a police presence on the streets and checkpoints are being set up as we speak," Combs said. "They're not going to be able to make any big moves without us seeing it."
Morgan shook his head. "These guys are slippery little fuckers."
Hotch raised an eyebrow at the language, but nodded in agreement. "I say we stay the course. JJ is our main focus right now. If we're lucky, the Winchesters will end up in our crosshairs; they're interested in the case, after all."
"That's true," Emily agreed.
Officer Keller stepped up to them. "Uh, sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen Angela Towns? I put her in the break room a couple hours ago but she's not there anymore."
"No one was watching her, either?" Morgan cursed.
After a quick search, it was determined that Angie was nowhere in the station. She was gone, too.
Rossi shook his head. "Wherever she is, it's where the Winchesters are. We all heard how she talked about them. She's not afraid of them."
"It's not like she was here against her will, anyways," Combs said. "We hadn't charged her with anything. If she really wanted to leave, we would have had to let her."
"I hate to say it, but we can't focus on them right now," Morgan said heatedly. "We've established that the Winchesters aren't our killers – we need to get back to finding JJ!"
People started talking over one another, the tone stressed and confused. Everyone had their own theory, their own ideas, their own –
"Everybody, quiet!" Hotch's voice snapped across the bullpen, and every voice fell silent, their faces turned towards him.
"We have one main goal here today: to catch a killer. Let's not get distracted. In the meantime, Combs, you should set aside a few officers to try and track down the Winchesters." He raised a hand as Combs opened her mouth to protest. "I know you're spread thin right now. All I'm asking for is two or three people. Everyone else will stay on the serial case."
After a moment, she nodded. "Johnson. Shaffer. Congratulations: you're in charge of a manhunt. And for God's sake, someone call Asheville. We need their support here, and we need it now!"
"Dean?" Bobby said as he answered the phone. "You got out?"
Dean nodded, glancing over to the stolen pick-up. Sam was showing Reid through the box of their stuff and explaining the purpose of different weapons. "Yup. Didn't have to shoot anybody, either."
"Well, ain't that a relief. When I got that call from the station I was sure I'd have to come spring you myself. Sam's out, too?"
"Yeah, he's here." Dean hesitated.
Of course, Bobby noticed. "What is it?"
Dean tried to figure out how to say it, and lowered his voice so Sam wouldn't hear, even though he was already a hundred feet from the car. "He – he had a flashback. It was bad. I couldn't even shake him out of it."
"He's still like that?" Bobby's voice was tense.
"No, no. He's okay, now. Just – it scared me, a bit."
Bobby sighed. "I hear you, Dean. It scares me, too."
"I –" Dean cut himself off. "Sorry. We don't have time for this right now. I just –"
"Hey. We don't have any idea just what Sam went through."
Dean frowned. "Yeah, you don't think I know that?"
"Calm down, boy. I ain't accusing you of anything. I'm just saying: how are we supposed to know how to help the kid when he won't tell us how? You gotta figure out how to crack that shell open, Dean. Or Sam might just get lost in his memories for good."
"Right," he said. "Just say that like it's easy."
"I never said it was, idjit. Don't mean you can't do it, though."
Dean sighed, and then cleared his throat. "Okay. Well. Moving on. Got any updates for me?"
Bobby moved on smoothly. "Yeah, I've been translating the pages you sent me. Looks like an obscure edition of an old witchcraft book I've seen before. The spell basically turns someone into the worst version of themselves. But it looks like your witch organized some of it incorrectly, too, so it made it go even fouler."
"How do we reverse it?"
"Not sure you can. But it's possible just killin' this guy the old fashioned way will work."
"And if it doesn't?"
"If it doesn't, I've got something else here you can try. A counter-curse that should neutralize the worst parts of the spell."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Okay, sounds great. Why didn't you start with that?"
Bobby sounded grumpy. "Because it's got a couple of heinous ingredients, including remains of the victims."
Dean winced. "Eugh. Right. Well, give it to me anyways. With our luck, we're gonna need it."
"Fine. You got something to write this down?"
Emily turned away from Mr. and Mrs. Townes, Morgan following her to the door.
Angie's father was close behind them. "You'll find her, won't you? Angie, she's a good girl. She –"
"We understand, Mr. Townes," Emily said patiently. "Now, if you hear from her, let us know right away. You have our cards."
"Just – figure out what the hell is going on. Please."
"We're doing all we can," Morgan said. "Your daughter is a top priority to us."
"She wouldn't do this," Mr. Townes said emphatically, gesturing around the ruined house. "We need to know where she is. We need her safe!"
Emily stepped out the front door and Morgan did the same. "You'll hear from us when we know something," she said.
"In the meantime, remember – don't leave town again," Morgan added.
Mr. Townes nodded. "Okay. Okay. Chloe," he called, turning back towards his wife. "Sit down for a second, let's just –" he closed the door.
Morgan let out a long breath as they walked back to the Suburban. "What a mess," he said bitterly.
"You can say that again." Emily was checking her phone. "Speaking of, have you heard from Reid? I know he was supposed to get an MRI, but that should be done by now, right?"
"I haven't," Morgan confirmed, opening the driver's side door. They sat down in the car, him looking through his own phone. "Not a damn thing."
Emily shared a worried glance with him. "You don't think he'd do anything stupid, do you?"
Morgan shook his head. "Let's hope he's sleeping. You should have seen him in the ER; he looked terrible."
God, what an awful day. They hadn't had one this bad in a long time. Still, it hadn't been long enough.
Morgan put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you know Reid. I'm sure he'll be okay. He – he can take care –"
He cut off when the phone in his lap buzzed and rang. Emily saw his eyes widen when he saw the name. "Oh, speak of the devil!" He hurriedly pressed the answer button and held the phone out in front of himself.
"Morgan, listen carefully."
"Reid!" Emily said, looking at Morgan excitedly.
"Reid, good to hear from you," Morgan said, a little more reserved. There was something about Reid's tone of voice. "Now, you mind telling us what you're up to?"
"Sorry, I… can't tell you much, right now. But – I know where to find Robert Freeman. And I know he's our unsub."
Emily frowned. "You sound certain. You know this for sure?"
"I do. His friend had a hunting cabin on the border of Nantahala National Forest. He'll be there." He rattled off an address, and Emily quickly pulled out a notepad to scribble it down. "I'm going to find JJ. Can you meet me there?"
"Wait for us," Morgan said sharply. "Don't go alone, Reid."
There was a pause. "I'm not," Reid said cryptically. "I'll see you there."
He hung up. Morgan looked at Emily, then turned the key in the ignition. Emily was already looking for Garcia's number to get everyone else looped in.
"Well, I guess this answers your question," Derek said as they peeled off down the road. "He would do something stupid!"
"You sure this is the right way?" Dean asked, continuing forwards on the bumpy dirt road. It felt like they'd already passed through the middle of nowhere at this point.
Angie shrugged. "Uh… pretty sure, yeah."
Dean cast her a sharp look. "Pretty sure? We get all the way out here and you're only pretty sure?"
"I'm sure," Angie said again, firmer this time. "Jesus. I haven't been here in a while, okay?"
Reid leaned forwards in his seat. "What exactly are we going to find here?"
"Basically, we're fighting a curse," Sam said. "So, we kind of have to be prepared for anything. Hopefully, Robbie can still die like any other person. But if the curse altered him enough, it'll take a counter-curse to knock him down."
Reid considered that. "When you do research, how do you know what's – real, and what's really just myth?"
Sam turned a little to face him better. "A lot of trial and error, honestly. That's why the best way to learn is from other hunters."
"We tend to face a lot of bullshit nobody's seen before, though," Dean added. "So improv is a requirement most times."
"Many classic fairy tales use virtues to undo a curse, like love or forgiveness. Does that ever work, or do you always just have to go for the kill?"
Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, who cocked his head. "It's worked a couple times, actually. But monsters and demons don't usually care about virtues."
"It ever work for you?" Dean asked.
Reid actually nodded. "I find that deep down, most of the people we encounter want empathy, or to be understood. I can tap into that for them, and it can do a lot to slow them down or even get them to surrender themselves."
"Huh," Sam said. "Go figure."
Dean dodged a particularly large hole in the road. "Do you even know how to handle that gun you carry, doc?"
"Better than I need to," Reid replied.
"Good."
"But," he continued, "If we can solve this without firing a weapon, I'd say I would prefer that."
Dean just looked between Reid and Sam and shrugged.
"Wait, holy shit – turn there!" Angie said suddenly. "That's the turn!"
Dean turned the wheel hard, and they hit another pothole before making it onto the side road. Another minute later, he slowed down before pulling over entirely when they caught a glimpse of an old cabin.
"Yeah, this place isn't creepy at all," Sam said. "You guys would come here to hang out?"
Angie swallowed nervously. "Yeah."
Reid fumbled for the door handle. "Let's go," he said.
"You said it, doc," Dean agreed. "Sam, you ready?"
Sam patted his pocket, then pulled his gun out. "Yeah. Angie, you're staying in the car."
"No she's not," Dean said.
Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "What? Yes, she is."
"No, she's not," Angie repeated, voice firm. "I'm not. Sam, I started this thing. I need to finish it, too. If you need someone to read that counter curse, I'm there."
Sam gave her a long look. "Fine. But stay behind us. And – take this." He handed a knife to the young woman, and she took it, her fingers wrapping around it nervously.
Dean nodded at Sam, then pulled his own gun out in one hand, and his silver knife in the other. And they headed for the house.
Reid's heart beat fast in his chest, and his head pounded. These moments were always stressful, but the idea of facing something he had no idea how to counter was even worse. And with JJ caught in the middle of it all?
He took a deep breath, and pushed down his fear. It would only slow him down, here. And they didn't have any time to spare. The sun was already setting, the shadows from the trees long and dark.
The Winchesters led the way to the house, their footsteps dead quiet even on the shifting gravel. They moved in sync with each other, each moving around the other with the familiarity that only came from time and experience. Reid was reminded of how he felt approaching crime scenes with the other members of the BAU.
Sam gestured for Dean to move forwards, and the man ducked towards the house, holding his gun out in front of himself. The cabin was deceptively quiet, the only sounds coming from the rustling leaves.
Then there was a noise like creaking wood. They all froze, Sam holding out a hand behind himself. Reid pulled out his gun and held it at his side with two hands.
After a tense moment, Sam and Dean nodded at each other, and they all began moving forwards once again. Spencer followed Sam onto the rickety front porch, the warped wood bending underfoot, while Dean ran around to the back. Angie followed close behind him.
Sam pushed the door open slowly, and the inside of the house revealed itself in dust and shadows. A stream of golden light from the sunset pouring in through a screened window was the only source of illumination. And in its glow…
Spencer let out a strained breath, taking an unconscious step forward. Because in the light was JJ tied to a chair, her blonde hair spilling over her face. She wasn't awake. Was she even –?
Sam held out a hand without looking back, barring Reid from entering. He almost pushed through it, but managed to contain himself. Then they stepped through the doorway, looking this way and that. There were bookshelves, a small kitchen, and – Reid grimaced – a table, covered in six bloody jawbones.
But the monster was nowhere in sight.
"Where are you?" Sam muttered.
With the room they were in cleared, Spencer rushed to JJ's side. When he got closer, he could see easily that she was breathing, and the sight sent relief buzzing through him. However, blood dripped from slashes at the crooks of her elbows, and the chair she sat in was positioned above a spot of floor darkened with dried blood. Obviously, not all of it could be JJ's; the other women had been murdered here, as well.
He put a hand on the top of her head, pushing it upright. Her hair fell out of her face, revealing a bruised eye and bloody forehead.
"JJ?" Reid said, his voice sounding like a shout in the quiet room.
There was no response.
Then the front door slammed closed, and the room went dark.
Reid looked up, alarmed. He held his gun out. "Sam?" he hissed.
Bam! Bam! Two shots fired, the sound tearing at Reid's ears.
"Spencer, hide!" Sam cried out, sounding out of breath. There was another loud noise, this one like the sound of a body hitting something. The wall?
Spencer turned, keeping his body in front of JJ and pointing his gun into the dark.
That's when he saw it – two red orbs in the shadows. His breath stopped in his chest, and he felt his body freeze. He couldn't move; he could only stare. He knew what he had seen. But somehow, he had hoped that he'd been wrong.
"Eat shit, asshole!" A woman's voice cut through the dark silence along with the beam of a headlamp, and Reid turned to see Angie throw her knife at the glowing red eyes. The flashlight illuminated the whole of Robert Freeman. He looked like something past dead, his red eyes sunken in his pale face, a scraggly beard below them. His clothes were tattered, and his skin was littered with slash marks and dark blood. Whether it was his or not was hard to say.
The knife Angie threw flew through the air and sunk improbably into Freeman's face, point first.
"Shit!" Dean said, stepping to her left. "Good throw."
Freeman sunk to his knees, a keening whine coming from his throat. The knife stuck out of his forehead.
They watched him, but he didn't fall. Instead, in horrifying slow motion, Freeman raised a hand and pulled the knife from his head. The blood that stuck to it was black as night.
Before Freeman could make another move, Dean raised his gun and shot the man – monster – creature, whatever he had become – five times in the chest. Freeman fell back at the force of it, but then picked himself up and got to his feet. The gleam in his eye was murderous.
"Well, fuck," Dean cursed. "I guess that answers that question."
Freeman pointed the knife at Reid, and bared his teeth. They shone with blood. "You'll regret interrupting me," he growled, his voice sounding like rocks in a blender.
Spencer somehow managed to speak. "Robbie, how long did you think this would last? You had to have known we would catch up to you."
"I can't be stopped," Freeman rasped, his eyes locked on Reid. "I'm not – human, anymore. This is my purpose."
"No. It was intentional, the escalation," Reid continued, unwavering. His mind raced. "You knew what you were becoming. You were trying to help us catch you. And now, taking an FBI agent – you want to be stopped, don't you?"
Robert bared his teeth, stepping forwards, the knife raised threateningly –
Then, two things. Freeman slammed to the ground, Sam Winchester tackling him down. And the front door slammed open, shards of wood flying.
Derek stopped the car in front of the ragged hunting cabin, gravel spraying up from the wheels. A similar SUV pulled in behind them, and they all piled out, guns already drawn. The skies had turned to night, and they pulled out flashlights to see by.
Morgan was in front, Prentiss, Hotch, and Rossi right behind him. He looked at all of them. "Stay sharp, people," he said.
Hotch gestured to the third car in the drive. "There's someone here already. Reid, I assume."
"That, or it's Freeman's car," Prentiss said reasonably.
Voices came from inside the cabin, and they all turned, alarmed.
"That's Reid!" Rossi said.
"Come on," Morgan said. "Let's go!"
They ran for the door, and with one swift kick it flew open.
The house was dark and dusty, but the scene before him was clear. Morgan saw JJ, tied up and unresponsive. In front of her, Reid stood protectively, his weapon held out in front of him. In the corner there was another blonde girl – Angie. And in front of them, three bodies grappled: Sam and Dean Winchester, and another, bloodier figure. It must have been Robert Freeman.
Morgan caught Reid's eye. He looked like he was barely keeping his feet.
Hotch's voice rang out, strong and bold. "FBI! Freeze!"
The wrestling men didn't stop, though. And as Derek watched, Freeman threw his arms out with a rage filled cry. He could barely believe his eyes as the two Winchesters flew through the air, crashing through shelves and landing in heaps against the wall.
With Hotch pointing his gun at Freeman, Derek ran for JJ and Reid, passing a table of jawbones as he did. So, this was the killer that they had been searching for.
The two of them worked at the ropes that held JJ down. Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw Dean help Sam to his feet.
"Reid. The Winchesters – was that you?" Morgan said, the realization coming to him suddenly.
Reid didn't look at him. "You saw what just happened. This isn't our case. It's theirs."
"What?"
"Morgan!" Rossi's voice called suddenly, alarmed. "Watch out!"
Derek turned at the warning, and all he saw was a pair of red eyes before Freeman was on him.
"She's mine!" Freeman screamed, his voice rattling the cabin. Morgan fought, but inhuman strength held him down. And the eyes – the eyes –
Morgan felt the weight lifted off of him at the same time that a wicked cold swept through which chilled him to the bone.
As he fought for his breath, he also fought to understand the sight in front of him. There was a woman there, holding Robbie back – or at least, he assumed it was her. He was pinned to the wall with nothing visible holding him up. A few feet away, the translucent form of a blonde haired woman held out her hand towards Robbie, her face twisted up in rage and pain.
Robbie let out a snarl, blood dripping down his face from several open, festering wounds. He fought against the invisible hold keeping him in place.
The ghost – because while it made no sense, there was no doubt as to what the figure was – of Emma Crawford clenched her outraised hand into a fist, and let out a cry, her beautiful face twisted in anguish. "You will not – touch – anyone – else!" She screamed hoarsely.
Derek managed to look away from the scene long enough to catch Hotch's eyes. The man looked similarly shocked.
Dean yelled from across the room, "Do it, Angie! Say it now!"
But Angie was staring at the ghost, her eyes wide and full of agony. "Emma," she gasped.
Sam reached her side, pushing a piece of paper into Angie's hands. "Read it, Angie," he said gruffly. "Now!"
Angie held the paper, but her eyes were locked on Emma. "I… you're… Emma…"
Emma's gaze turned to Angie, though her hand still kept the killer aloft. "I can't hold this forever, Angie. If you're going to stop this, do it now."
Angie swallowed roughly, and made up her mind. "Okay. Okay." She opened up the paper.
"Wait," Sam said. "Don't we need –"
Angie paused, and nodded sharply. "Help me set it up."
Sam and Dean walked across the room and reached for the jawbones sitting atop a small table.
"Wait, what are you doing?" Prentiss said. "Leave that alone!"
"Sorry," Sam said, and to Derek's ear he really sounded regretful. "There's no other way."
The jawbones were pushed together, a few other things added from pockets, and Dean held a lighter up to the pile. They caught easier than they should have, and the flames leapt up.
Derek pushed himself to his feet, but Reid held him back. "No, let them work," he said.
Emma's ghost let out a groan, her hand shifting. Freeman writhed against the wall. "Quickly!" she said.
Angie held up the paper in her hand, and spoke, the words coming out of her mouth twisted and strange. He recognized a few, and then realized: it was Latin.
At the chanting words, the flame that lit the jawbones rose higher, and Freeman cried out in rage and pain. "Noo!" he screamed.
Emma let out a gasp as she could hold onto him no longer, and Freeman fell to the floor.
Sam stepped in front of Angie and fired his weapon at Freeman, the shots knocking him back but not stopping him. Dean joined him, but it was only moments before the killer was on top of them, throwing them apart.
He landed awkwardly against the table where the jawbones burned, and they knocked off onto the floor. They were all stuck together now, one burning lump of flesh and bone.
The smell – the burning, sickly smell – it was the same. It pulled at memories in the front of his brain, and he could almost see it – feel it, on himself.
He pressed a hand on his scarred palm, and pulled himself back to the present harshly. There was no room to slip, now.
Sam looked up, and saw Freeman had almost reached Angie.
More shots rang out, but the monster didn't stop. He reached out a bloody hand for Angie, and then –
She stopped speaking. The fire next to him burst high, and then went out. And Freeman froze. His angry face smoothed to confusion, and then pain, and he fell to his knees, the blood seeping out of him now red instead of black.
The ghost of Emma Crawford appeared in front of him, and put a hand on his cheek. There were words whispered between the two of them, but they were too soft for Sam to hear.
And then Freeman fell through Emma's hand to the floor, his eyes staring vacantly.
Emma let out a long breath, the air fogging in front of her. And she vanished.
The cabin was silent for a moment, and then they all seemed to move at once.
Morgan and Reid turned to JJ, freeing her from her chair and carrying her to the door. Prentiss and Rossi knelt down next to Freeman's body. And Hotchner turned to face Sam.
"Well," Hotch said, surprisingly steady. "Apparently we were wrong. You two were capable of another miraculous escape."
Dean had come up beside him. "Are you gonna try and arrest us again?"
Hotchner looked at them stonily for a long moment. "No," he said finally.
Sam raised his eyebrows. He hadn't seen this one coming.
"What… what happened here?" Agent Hotchner asked, unsteadiness finally coming to his voice.
Sam looked at Dean. "Ask Dr. Reid," he said. "You'll believe it better from him."
Hotchner raised his eyebrow, and then nodded. And without another word, turned to help the other agents with Jareau.
"Okay." Dean gestured with his chin to the door. "Time to blow this place, huh?"
"No kidding," Sam agreed. He felt the weariness settling on him. "I think I could sleep for a week."
"Same here. There's no way we're crashing anywhere in this town, though. It's time to go get Baby out of lockup."
Sam shook his head. "Yeah. With our luck they'll turn around and arrest us again anyway."
"Angie," Dean turned and called. "Come on, let's go. We'll drop you home."
Angie was still standing in the same spot across the room, her eyes on where Freeman had been; where Emma had been. Her face was pale.
"Just… give me a minute," she said softly. "I'll be out soon."
Sam nodded. "Okay. We'll wait for you outside. Just… we don't have a lot of time, okay?"
Her gaze flickered to them in acknowledgement.
He and Dean walked outside, the air colder than it had been before. It was completely dark out save for the light from a crescent moon.
The FBI agents were loading Jareau into the back of one of the SUVs and Freeman into the other. They walked past them, headed for the truck.
There was a patter of feet behind them, and Reid's voice called out, "Wait! Hold on!"
Surprised, Sam stopped, Dean slowing beside him. Reid ran up to them, looking worried but calm.
Dean was looking back at the Suburban. "Everything okay?"
"We're taking her to the hospital now."
Sam nodded. "I hope she's better soon."
Reid looked at the both of them, and they waited expectantly. "Sorry," Reid said eventually. "I just – don't really know what I'm supposed to do now."
"I'd recommend having a drink," Dean said wryly. "Believe me, it helps."
"Seriously. What if I come across something like this again?"
He shrugged. "Try your best."
"And," Sam added, "If you need help, call us. We'll swing by."
Dean nodded. "Sure. As long as we're not busy keeping the world from ending or something," he agreed.
Reid paused, as if trying to decide if Dean was being facetious or not.
"Here," Sam said, scribbling down a few numbers on a piece of paper and handing it over to Reid. "If you get the voicemail it won't sound like us, but it is."
Reid took the slip of paper. "Thanks."
"So… we're not gonna have a manhunt on our asses as soon as we leave, right?" Dean said.
Reid shook his head. "You're free to go. And I'll get Garcia working on covering your tracks. She's our computer whiz," he explained. "If you get arrested again, though, I'm afraid you're on your own. We're already going to have a lot to smooth out as it is."
"Don't worry about us," Sam said, reaching out his hand. After only a moment's hesitation, Reid reached out and shook it. "If you couldn't tell, we're pretty experienced in getting out of scrapes like this."
Reid pulled his hand back, and nodded. He gave Sam one last searching look. "Good luck," he said. "And… thank you."
"Can't say we hear that too often," Dean said.
"See you 'round, I guess," Sam said.
Reid raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, I hope not." He gave one last nod, and then turned back to the SUV. As they watched, he climbed into the car, and the two Suburbans tore away down the dirt road, their red tail lights disappearing into the trees.
Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged.
"Yeah," Dean said. "Fair enough."
Angie stood in the empty cabin, staring at the spot of blood on the floor where Robbie had fallen, illuminated by the flashlight in her hand. Then she looked at the even larger stain where she knew those six girls had met their end.
All this death… all because of her.
The air went cold around her, and her next exhale was a cloud of fog.
A shape flickered in front of her, but Angie wasn't afraid. It was Emma.
Emma's form solidified, and she looked at Angie, her expression flat.
"Hey," Angie breathed.
Emma drifted forwards. Angie's flashlight flickered in her hand. "How could you do this?" Emma asked, her voice echoey despite the small room. "Angie… how?"
Angie swallowed past the lump in her throat. She clutched at the bracelet on her wrist. "You needed to get away. Robbie – he wasn't good for you! He hit you, Emma," she said roughly.
"I know," Emma said. "But he wasn't this. He wasn't evil."
Tears spilled down Angie's face. "I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm – I'm so, so sorry." She let out a sob.
Emma reached out a hand, and it felt like Angie's cheek had been dipped in ice water. She leaned in.
"I'm sorry, Emma. I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted…" her face twisted against the agony. "I just wanted you to be happy."
Emma looked into her eyes, her gaze softening. Their faces were close together now. "You were always stronger than me."
Angie soaked in those eyes. Emma still looked so perfect. She shouldn't, should she? As a ghost. But there she was, as beautiful as she'd ever been. All that was missing was the warmth. And Angie knew at that moment that after she left this cabin, she would never see her again.
Without stopping to think, she leaned in. Her lips touched Emma's, and there were sparks of cold, and pain. She gasped, and pulled back.
Emma's eyes were wide. But after a moment of shock, she smiled and laughed. "Stronger than me – and braver, too," she said. Her breath was cold on Angie's face. "I always wondered…"
"Me too," Angie said, feeling joy mixed in to her broken heart.
Emma's face sobered. "You'll have to keep being brave, to get past this."
Angie nodded, tears running down her face again. "I will. I promise. I'll make up for this. I'll spend my whole life making up for it."
There was a light behind Emma, and it slowly grew, flickering and nebulous. Emma let go of her, and turned to face it.
"What is that?" Angie said.
Emma was staring at it. "I – Angie, I was only holding on for you. To protect you. And the others, if I could. But now… it's time for me to go."
"No!" Angie blurted, reaching for Emma's hand. Of course, they couldn't really touch, and she passed right through her.
Emma looked over her shoulder, and met Angie's eyes one last time. "You'll be okay, Ang," she said softly. And with a soft smile, she walked forwards. The light brightened, and brightened, and – and Emma was gone.
The room was too warm without her, and too dark.
Angie took a steadying breath, and walked outside. Sam and Dean were waiting for her, leaning up against the truck.
"Everything okay?" Sam said.
Angie nodded. "Yeah. I mean, no. Not at all. But – yeah."
"Right," Dean said. "Well, let's get you home."
JJ pushed to the surface, pulling her eyes open with a monumental effort. It felt like every part of her was weighted down. But she knew she shouldn't be asleep. There was something… something wrong. She –
Brightness hit her retinas, and she winced.
"JJ!" A female voice said to her left. It was Emily. "You're awake!"
It was immediately obvious she was in the hospital. She was in bed, with an IV in one hand and the sterile setup of a recovery room around her.
She thought back, and her memories were blurry. But she remembered being afraid. She remembered — that face —
There was a beeping noise that was growing faster behind her.
"What happened?" she tried to ask. But her mouth was so thick and full of cotton there was no way the words came out like that.
"JJ," said a voice to her right. She turned her head, and saw Reid. He looked worried, but not scared. There was a bandage on his forehead. "You're safe," he said calmly. "We got you out of there."
The beeping slowed down.
"What… what do you remember?"
JJ shook her head. "I – I don't know," she rasped. "I can't –" she coughed.
Emily held up a cup with a straw. "Water?"
JJ nodded. The few sips she got were heavenly on her tongue, and afterwards she found that she still had the power of speech. "What happened?" she asked, and this time it came out right.
"We found you," Emily said. "In a hunting cabin. It was Robert Freeman." She shared a glance with Reid. "Or at least, what was left of him."
JJ frowned. "What do you mean?"
Reid gave her a long look. "There's a lot to tell you." He took the cup from her and put it back on the side table. "I promise, we'll explain everything. After you get a little more rest."
"…Okay." His reticence made her a little anxious. "Is everyone else alright?"
"Yeah, everyone's fine," Emily assured quickly. "It's nothing like that."
"Right. Okay then," she said slowly. Her thoughts still weren't coming fast enough to make sense of any of what they were saying. "Can I get my phone, then? I want to call Will."
"Oh, of course." Prentiss reached for a bag at the end of the bed and pulled out a phone. "I think it still works; it got a bit banged up."
JJ took it from her hand, pausing when she noticed her hand shaking.
There was a touch on her shoulder, and she turned to see Spencer's pained face. "JJ…" he said. "I – I'm sorry. I should have stopped him; I should have seen it coming. I just couldn't think straight, I –"
"Spence!" JJ said firmly. He stopped, looking her in the eyes. "I'm okay. I'm okay," she said again, letting it sink in for herself, too. "It's not your fault," she added. "And, thank you." She looked at Emily as well, her voice thick. "Thank you."
At the tone of her voice, Reid pulled her close, hugging her tightly. When he pulled away, he looked a little more settled, just as she felt.
Emily grabbed her hand, and gave her a soft smile. "You're as strong as they come, JJ. We – we're so glad you're okay."
JJ smiled back. Then she quirked an eyebrow. "And you'll tell me what it is you're hiding?"
Emily and Spencer looked at each other. "Yeah," said Emily. "Just… like we said. Sleep first."
"'Cause you might not be able to later," Reid muttered, ducking his head.
"What?"
"What?" Spencer said back, expression unconvincingly innocent.
Emily stood suddenly. "Let's give you the room, huh? Let you call Will." She raised her eyebrows at Reid.
"Right," Reid said quickly. "Yeah. Let's do that."
JJ watched them leave, her phone gripped tight in her hand. Whatever they had to say, it could wait. But what couldn't wait…
She held the phone to her ear, and couldn't help the tearful smile that came to her face at the voice on the other side.
Dean and Sam sat on the hood of the Impala fifty miles outside of Franklin, the dark sky above them clear and smattered with stars. Fall was starting to make its way into the area, apparently, because the night was cool enough that Dean had pulled out his jacket from the back seat.
Still warm enough that a cold beer felt heavenly, though.
They had dropped Angie off at her parent's house. They'd left her their number and wished her luck. Somehow though, Dean didn't think she'd need it.
It felt good to sit and revel in the success of a finished case. They didn't get a lot of wins these days – he had to take them when he could. No matter what other bullshit was thrown their way, it was good to know that they could still help people.
Too bad it was harder to help themselves.
Speaking of… "How you feeling, Sam?" Dean asked bluntly, breaking the silence. "And be honest with me. Because I know you're not great."
Sam cast him some predictably annoyed side-eye. "If you already know, why bother asking?"
Dean didn't take the bait. He just took another sip, and spoke honestly. "'Cause I'm worried about you, man."
The admission seemed to take Sam by surprise, and he paused with his beer halfway to his lips.
"Yeah, I know," Dean said. "So humor me, here."
Sam took a long sip, then lowered the bottle, jaw clenched. "You know how I am," he said roughly. "I'm not – hiding anything."
"Sure. But you're not sharing anything, either."
He stared up into the stars, his face obscured in the dark. "There's just too much," he said after a long pause. "I wouldn't even know where to start."
"You need to sort through it," Dean said, grabbing on quick to the inch Sam was giving him and trying to make a mile. "Sam… the memories are crushing you."
Sam shook his head, and when he turned to Dean his gaze flat and dead. "I'm 28," he said. His voice was lifeless. "I lived five times that long in the Cage."
Dean's heart twisted. "Time is different down there," he said stiffly. "It only felt like that long –"
"It felt longer."
The words were stolen from Dean's mouth.
"I was there for so long, I gave up. I never – I never thought I'd be back here." He looked into Dean's eyes, his eyes haunted. "I never thought I'd see the sun again, or the stars. I never thought I'd see you again, Dean. Not for a second."
Dean couldn't look away from Sam's tortured expression.
"I was – trapped. It was dark, and cold. So cold." Sam was sitting next to him, but it felt like he was a million miles away. "It was so cold it hurt. I didn't even have a body… it wasn't like the cold here, though. It was like the cold and dark had come together and made something new. Something that sucked your spirit from you. And I… I wasn't strong enough."
Dean shook his head, and then, when that wasn't enough, wanted to shake Sam too. "No! Don't you fuckin' say that."
"I'm not supposed to be here," Sam breathed. "It – it doesn't make sense. It's not right."
"What? Of course it's right. What isn't right is that you had to spend even a second in hell."
"I was born to serve him." His eyes were blank. "I never would have ended up anywhere else besides hell. I know that now. So… I k-know that he's coming for me. He would never let me escape like that. I know what I see of him isn't real. I know. But. It's just a reminder that one day, it will be. After all, Dean – I was never supposed to escape. It should have been impossible. So if I can escape… why can't he?"
Dean fought for words. "It was Death that pulled you from the Cage. You need more than an Angel's power to get out of there."
"There are creatures out there nearly as powerful as Death. Ones who aren't as neutral. It's only a matter of time."
Dean gripped Sam's arm, trying to anchor him to the here and now. He could see the fight for control in his brother's eyes; how he kept glancing away and then back again.
"Dean –" Sam choked.
"Sam, he's not getting out. And I'd never let him touch you even if he did. We've faced him before, we can face him again."
Sam's face flickered with terror. "Exactly. And the circle would start all over again."
"No. It's not a circle," Dean stressed. "Just because something happened before doesn't mean it'll happen again."
"See, you – you can't know that for sure," Sam stuttered. "And there are some things that are meant to happen. Things Destiny makes sure we come back to."
Dean let out a breath like he'd been kicked in the chest. How could he not have seen this until now? "Destiny? Sam, don't you remember? This is Team Free Will, dude! We choose our own path. Heaven thinks they know the future. But that's just because they're a pretentious bunch of self aggrandizing mother fuckers who wouldn't know empathy if it kicked them in the balls." He looked imploringly at Sam. "Man, we got you out of there. It's over."
Sam watched his face. After a moment, he breathed, "Dean, I'm scared. I'm scared all the time. "
Dean's chest cracked open completely at the words, and before he could stop himself he pulled Sam close. He knew he'd done the right thing when Sam hugged him back just as tightly. He could feel the younger man shaking against him.
"I know," Dean said.
"I'm sorry," Sam said thickly. "I'm not strong enough. I can't –"
Dean squeezed harder, as if he could stop the words from being true. Then he pushed back, and looked Sam in the eye. "Sam, don't say that. How can you think that?"
Sam shook his head, his eyes wet. "I gave up. And now… Now that I'm back, I have to focus. But I'm not strong enough. I keep slipping back there. He keeps dragging me back!" He pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest. Anxiety bled from him. "You need me here. And I'm trying, but I can't."
"You can," Dean growled. "You are."
"N-no."
"You are! And even if you weren't strong enough to do this by yourself, you've got me. Stone number one, right? Because, as experience shows, there's nothin' that can stand against two Winchesters."
"How – how do you know?"
Dean spread his arms, gesturing at the world, and the two of them in it. "Well, we've made it this far, haven't we?"
Sam stared at him for a long moment, his breathing slowly settling down. Then something in his expression shifted, and he nodded. "Okay. Yeah."
Dean chuckled in pride as he saw his brother's eyes calm. "That's it, Sammy. Tell Lucifer where he can stick it."
"Don't worry," Sam said, raising an eyebrow. He still looked unsettled, but also like he was finding his feet again. "I had plenty of opportunities to make sure he knew that."
Dean knew why, of course, but he still smiled. "Damn straight. If anyone could back talk the fuckin' devil, it's you."
Sam smiled back shakily, and Dean felt his own heart settle at the sight of it. "Well. I learned from the best."
"Yeah, you did, little brother."
Sam chuckled softly. Then he paused, shifted, and his smile fell again.
Dean frowned. "What? What are you thinking?"
"It's just… You need someone to watch your back, too. I get distracted. I can't always do that right now."
"Sammy," Dean said firmly. Sam looked back up at him. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'm fine."
Sam scowled. "Bullshit. There's no way you're fine."
Dean gave a frustrated sigh. "I know. I've got my own shit to deal with, for sure. But really – I'm okay right now. I can stand on my own two feet, at least. And – I've got Bobby. The best thing you can do for me right now is be a little selfish. You're doing enough just by being here, soul and all." He raised his eyebrows at Sam. "Focus on yourself, for once, dude. Let me focus on me."
"I – I don't know how to fix this."
"One step at a time, that's how. Just like always."
Sam cocked his head. "You're getting sappy in your old age, you know that?"
Dean rolled his eyes, and slid off the hood. "Try it sometime. It's good for you."
"What's the next step, then? Track down the Leviathan?" Sam grabbed the cooler and shoved it into the backseat through the window.
"Yeah, that's on the list. Bobby said he'd found something that might be them, actually. All the way out in Oregon."
Sam nodded. "I guess we should go, then."
"I know. But – before that…" He let a smile curve onto his face, "you wanna go to Dollywood, first?"
Sam smiled, and laughed. "Dollywood?"
"Yeah, you know – Dolly Parton's version of Six Flags, or whatever."
Sam was a little too amused. "I knew you were a fan."
"Sam, everyone's a fan of Dolly Parton. I mean, come on. 9 to 5? Jolene? She's an icon."
"Just when I think I know you…" Sam shook his head, and climbed into the impala, the door creaking open and shut.
Dean walked around and sat down next to him. He started the car before reaching behind the seat and into one of the evidence boxes that held all their stuff. He rifled around for a minute, pulling out a few cassettes before he found –
"Aha!" he pushed the tape into the deck, flashing Sam a wicked grin. Sam just gave him a long-suffering look.
And as Dolly's voice came over the speakers, he pulled away from the curb, fingers tapping on the wheel. And there they were, the two of them. Taking it one step at a time.
Because fuck the devil.
The road opened up before them, and Dean pressed on the gas.
THE END
Author's Notes:
And that's a wrap! Hope you all enjoyed this little romp as much as I enjoyed writing it. This fic brought together a bunch of things I thought would be fun to play with: a crossover between Supernatural and Criminal Minds, of course; Sam hallucinating Lucifer and dealing with his time in hell; Reid having to deal with the supernatural; and a mystery that hopefully makes some sense. Coming up with the monster of the week was a fun challenge, and I thought it might work to bring back some things that we see once early in the series and almost never again – the idea of Death Echoes, and of ghosts crossing over into the light. Originally I meant for Angie to just be a bad guy, but in the end I liked her character too much to do that to her. I hope some of the calls I made worked!
On a separate note, it feels damn good to finish something! If you've happened to read any of my other works, you might have noticed a trend: I have a hard time finishing stories. I think it helped that I had this this plotted out pretty well from the start. This chapter in particular could probably have been edited a little more, but I wanted it out in the world, and figured y'all wouldn't mind too much.
If you liked the story, drop a comment! It's been fun hearing y'all's thoughts on everything.
Thanks for coming by, and happy reading!
