Archive of Our Own

July 11th, 2008 - Elko, Nevada

“Dean.” The volume of Sam’s voice tells Dean that it wasn’t the first time his brother had said his name, and Dean reluctantly pulls the earbuds from his ears, surrendering his Led Zeppelin-and-Magic-Fingers-induced bliss as he opens his eyes and sat up. Sam was across the room from him, hunched over the glowing blue of his laptop screen like the overgrown Sasquatch that he was.

“Seriously Sammy? We just torched that poltergeist yesterday, can’t you give it a day?” Sam’s eyes flick over to Dean briefly, but he gives no reply. Dean notices his arm move, and watches with a frown as Sam’s hand goes down to rub at the newly healed scar on the palm of his left hand. Sighing, he stands and heads over to where Sam is perched at the flimsy hotel table, knees jammed up against the bottom of the table demonstrating again that nothing in this room was designed for someone his size.

“Yeah? Whats up? Any news on Dick?”

“Huh?” Sam glances up at him briefly before returning his eyes to the computer screen, his stupid hair swinging into his eyes as he shakes his head no. “No, nothing new on Dick. Still waiting to hear back from Frank.”

“Okay. So what’ve you got?”

“Amity, Arkansas. Six kids gone missing in the last four months. No signs of abduction, violence… just gone.”

“And you think this is our kind of thing?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s eyes continue to scan the news article as he speaks. “The kids don’t fit a specific victim profile, they’re spread out over four months… they were all last seen near the Caddo river.”

“A river?”

“Yeah. And get this. There’s a lot of local legends that talk about the Loveland Frog.”

“A frog?” The ‘are you serious’ was heavily implied.

“The legend originated in Loveland, Ohio, but apparently this area of Arkansas has had its fair share of sightings. The original legend describes a frog-faced human-like creature with leathery skin.”

“Seriously. A frogman?”

“There’s actually quite a few legends all across the country detailing secret races of giant lizard or frog people, such as the Lizardman of Wayne, New Jersey, the Giant Lizard of Milton, Kentucky…”

“Okay. Giant reptile people.”

“Frogs are amphibians.”

“Shut it Sammy.” Dean’s voice turned thoughtful. “Is it supposed to go after kids?” Sam shakes his head.

“Nothing in the original legend. Actually, there’s nothing in this legend or any of the others like it about these creatures attacking humans. But…”

“Just because its not in the original legend doesn’t mean its not true. Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Six missing kids definitely sounds like our kind of thing. Though I’m not totally sold on the frogman thing. You said Arkansas?”

“Yup.”

“Alright. Lets go.” Dean gestures at Sam to get moving, grinning at the exasperated huff that Sam lets out as he stands and begins to pack up his gear.

July 13th, 2008 - FBI, Quantico, Virginia

The conference room was oddly quiet, the friendly banter that was usually slung between the members of the team before receiving their new case absent this early in the morning. Instead, the team sat around the table, blearily blinking at each other. JJ, usually immaculate, was slumped over the table, face in arms and blond hair frizzing up in a halo above her.

“Alright team!” Garcia bustled into the room, as cheerful and energetic as ever. Rossi looked up at her sleepily. It wasn’t natural, he thought grouchily to himself. No one should be that cheerful all the time. He was quick to forgive her her offensively sunny disposition, however, as she began circling the table, handing out extra large coffees as she went.

“Oh thank god” JJ breathed, finally raising her head from her arms to grasp gratefully at the coffee, inhaling the steam rising from the paper cup as she sat up and ran her hand through her hair. She looked around the conference room. “Where’s Hotch?”

“You’d think he’d be here,” commented Morgan, only a trace of bitterness leaking out along with the exhaustion that weighed his voice, “Since he was the one who called us back here less than six hours after getting back from Detroit.” Just as he finished talking, however, Hotchner strode into the room.

“Good morning everyone.” Five sets of eyebrows raised skeptically at him, while Garcia just smiled and handed him the last coffee. “I know we’re all tired, but this case requires our immediate attention.” Nodding to Garcia to begin, Hotch sat down at the table as the team turned to the screen.

“Amity, Arkansas. Population of less than a thousand. In the last four months, they’ve had six children disappear.”

“Six? In a town of that size?” Prentiss interrupted incredulously. “Why weren’t we called in earlier?”

“Because up until yesterday, the cases hadn’t been connected in any way. Amy Green, 12, Caucasian. Disappeared on March 12. Jenny Rodriguez, 4, Hispanic. Disappeared on March 28. Richard Sawyer, 9, Caucasian. Disappeared on April 22. Tammy-May Levitt, 2, African American. Disappeared on May 3. Beth McKay, 16, Caucasian. Disappeared on May 14. Thomas Douglass, 15, African American. Disappeared on June 23.” As Garcia read off the names, pictures of the children appeared on the screen behind her.

“There’s no commonality,” Morgan commented. “No victim type. Age, race… they’re all over the place.”

“Exactly,” replied Garcia. “Which is why the local PD didn’t call us earlier. They hadn’t tied together any of the disappearances. Several of the older children had a history of running away and disciplinary issues.”

“What about the toddlers? They wouldn’t have been suspected of running away. Surely we would have been called in for abducted children.”

“Levitt’s mother has been involved in a serious custody battle with her father, who police haven’t been able to locate since her disappearance. They thought that he had taken her.”

“And Rodriguez?” asked Rossi.

“Rodriguez disappeared near the local river. The locals concluded that she’d drowned, though a body was never recovered.”

“So what changed? Why have we been called in?” JJ wondered aloud.

“Last night a fisherman on the Caddo River found this.” Another picture appeared on the screen behind her. The team leaned forward, peering at the grainy, dark image.

“Is that…” Reid’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant, “Are those entrails?”

“A variety of internal organs.” Garcia swallowed loudly. “Found in a pile in the reeds on the side of the river. DNA tests confirmed that there were organs belonging to each of the missing children.”

“So not just runaways then.” Rossi spoke. “Amity has a serial killer on its hands.” Hotch nodded, standing and surveying his team.

“Which is why we’re headed out there now. We need to stop this before more children disappear. Wheels up in twenty.”

July 13th, 2008 - Amity, Arkansas

“The fuck?” It figures, Sam thought wryly, that Dean’s first words after emerging spluttering from the depths of the river, after almost drowning, would be profanity. Sam, meanwhile, was far too invested in drawing great gulping breaths of air into his lungs to formulate a reply to Dean’s outburst. After a minute of treating water, Sam turned and swam towards shore, his clothes weighing him down heavily and making his progress difficult, while a still bitching Dean followed behind him. Once the water became shallow enough to stand in, Sam turned back to Dean.

“I think it was a kelpie.”

“What the fuck is a kelpie doing in Arkansas?” Dean yelled, standing dripping in the shallow water of the river.

“Jesus Christ, stop shouting. How the hell should I know?” Sam snapped back, turning and scrambling up the bank before collapsing, panting, on the forest floor. Grumbling under his breath, Dean sloshed up the bank after him, soaked and now covered in mud up to his knees, falling on his back next to Sam. They lay there for a moment without speaking, just appreciating the cool sting of air in their lungs.

“This sucks.” Dean finally spoke, sitting up and looking down at himself, miserably shaking the water off of his jacket. Sighing, Sam pulled himself up as well.

“Have to say I was not expecting that.”

“Yeah, that was pretty fucking far from frogman.”

“Did you see its hooves?”

“Yeah, backwards. That was freaky as fuck.”

“Aren’t they supposed to live in England or something?”

“Scotland I think.”

“So why Arkansas?” Sam hummed.

“Remember when the mother, Eve, was around and all the foreign monsters started showing up in America?”

“Yeah?” Dean sighed, hauling himself up off the ground. Sam just sounded exhausted as he replied, taking Dean’s proffered hand, standing with a grunt.

“Maybe the kelpie came over then. And has just been lying dormant, waiting for marching orders that were never coming.”

“And what? It got bored and started munching on kids to pass the time?” Sam shrugged. Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Fucking monsters.”

“So…” Dean said as they began walking, “any idea how to kill a kelpie?”

“Nope!” Sam’s voice was mock cheerful as he grinned at his brother, who made a face at him in return.

“Awesome.”

July 13th, 2008 - somewhere over Tennessee

The team had been sitting in silence on the plane for the first half of the journey, each individually reading the pack provided by Garcia, but when Hotch rose from his seat at the rear of the cabin and joined Reid, Prentice, and Morgan at their table, the rest of the team sat to attention.

“First impressions?”

“Male.” Reid stated confidently. “In 75% of nonfamily abductions, the perpetrator is male, while 88% of stereotypical kidnapping perpetrators are male. His crossing of racial lines makes it more difficult to determine his race, though given the demographics of the area, it is more likely that he is white.”

“He must be organized, as well. There were no signs of struggle, and no one saw anything, though none of the children were taken from their homes.” Rossi commented. “The majority disappeared on their way home from school or from a friend’s. The two toddlers, Tammy-May Levitt and Jenny Rodriguez, disappeared from parks where they were playing while their mothers were momentarily distracted.”

“He’s probably older then,” JJ continued, “to have that level or organization suggests experience and age.”

“In approximately 42% of nonfamily abduction cases, the perpetrator is between 20 and 29 years of age.” Reid offered. “However, it is difficult to determine the age based on the information we currently have.”

“The lack of bodies is going to present a challenge in determining methodology and motivation.” Prentice pointed out. “We have no way of determining sexual assault or mutilation.”

“Well,” JJ countered, “We do know he is mutilating the bodies to some extent. He’d have to, to remove the internal organs.”

“I’m wondering how all remains of all six victims were found in the river. You’d think at least some of them would have washed away. Was he keeping them as trophies? And if he was, why dump them?” Morgan tapped his pen against his file.

“Garcia?” Hotch asked as the computer on the table flickered to life, “Have we gotten the ME’s report yet?”

“Yes my sweets, and it looks like the organs have been in the river the whole time. The ME has placed time of submersion at around the time of each child’s disappearance.”

“So how were they all still there? Why weren’t they eaten by animals, or washed away?” Morgan asked again.

“They weren’t.” Reid replied, scanning the page, “there was no complete set of entrails for any single victim.”

“But the majority of them were still there,” Morgan countered.

“The police report indicates that there is a bend in the river at that location” Prentice read off of her file, looking up, “that plus their location, tucked into the reeds, might have stopped them washing away.”

“Yes, but that still doesn’t explain why they weren’t eaten by wild animals.” Reid pointed out.

“Maybe there was some sort of toxin in them that kept the animals away?” JJ proposed.

“Garcia?” Hotch prompted.

“Tox report isn’t back yet my lovelies, but I will let you know when it is!”

I think we’re forgetting the most important thing here.” Reid interrupted.

“Which is?” Reid looked around at the group seriously.

“What is the unsub doing with the rest of the bodies?” The team looked grim at that observation.

“How about how the organs were removed?” Morgan asked, “That should give us at least some idea of what he’s doing to the rest of the body. Any knife marks?” Garcia clicked at her keyboard.

“No signs of a knife but… oh God.”

“What is it baby girl?” Garcia swallowed.

“Teeth. There’s signs that they were pulled out by teeth.”

“Well.” Prentice grimaced, “Guess that answers the question of what he’s doing with the rest of the body.”

“Mmmmm not so fast there darling.” Garcia replied, holding up a pen, “The ME found a variety of teeth marks, including several different species of animals, on the remains, but the ones that actually severed the organs from their resting place weren’t human either.”

“What?” Prentice startled. “What were they then?” Garcia shook her head.

“He isn’t sure love. The report says they aren’t anything he recognized or could find on a database. Oh hey, there’s a note at the bottom of the page though… lets see… oh, gross!”

“What is it baby girl?” Morgan asked, leaning forward.

“The ME suggested, in the absence of another explanation, that the marks might be the product of human teeth sharpened into points.”

“Oh.” Prentice replied, rolling her eyes. “Goody.”

July 13, 2008 - The Bluebell Motel

Steam poured from the bathroom as Dean finally emerged from the shower. He swore he could still smell the river, the mud, and the fucking kelpie on him, but the room’s hot water had finally given out. Sam, predictably, had spent his time before berating Dean for using up all the hot water and having his own, very fast and very cold, shower, researching.

“So. Besides being a giant horse with black eyes, what exactly is a kelpie?” Dean asked from his sprawled out position on his bed as Sam exited from the bathroom still towling his hair. Sam shot his brother a dirty look before replying.

“Keplies originally came from Scotland, and are described as a demon in the shape of a horse. The lore is pretty inconsistent, but generally they live in lakes and rivers, where they lure their victims before eating them and throwing their entrails onto shore.” Dean wrinkled his nose.

“Dude. Gross.” Sam shrugged, throwing his used towel at Dean, who swatted it away from him, and sat down in front of his open laptop at the room’s small table, scrolling down in the article he had found just before taking his turn in the shower.

“There’s not a clear consensus in the lore on whether they go after any human, or if they prefer children in particular, though a lot of the legends are centered around the disappearances of children. But it looks like this one, at least, prefers children. The lore also has it transforming into a human form at will.”

“Goody. So it could actually be anyone? Not just a giant, fucked-up horse?” Sam shook his head.

“The lore around these things is so inconsistent. Some have it taking the form of a handsome young man, to lure away women. Other have it being identifiable by the kelp in its hair. Still others tell of it taking the form of an old man hanging around the river bank, waiting to lure in passer-byes.”

“Awesome. Super vague then. So how do we kill it?”

“The lore doesn’t say much. There’s a common Scottish myth about nine children who were lured onto a kelpie's back. There was a tenth kid, who just stroked the kelpie's nose. When his hand stuck to it, he took a knife and cut his own hand off. He lived, but the other kids still drowned.”

“Well that is just incredibly unhelpful.”

“There’s also the bridle thing.” Dean blinked at Sam, who was looking at him expectantly.

“What, you can just break it like any other horse?” Rolling his eyes, Sam continued.

“The lore also says that placing a bridle on a kelpie will render it docile. Then it can be killed. Though its a bit unclear whether or not any bridle will work, or if it needs to be spelled… and some other versions of the story have the keplie already having a bridle on it, and by taking off the bridle, you tame it.”

“Well, I didn’t see a bridle, but then again, I was a bit distracted by the whole drowning thing.” Sam rolled his eyes again, too tired to get annoyed by Dean’s flippancy.

“Different myths also have it being killed by different methods once rendered docile. One has it shot by a silver bullet, another one, hot iron.”

“Well silver bullets will be easy to keep on hand, but hot iron is kind of hard to carry around.” Sam nodded, smiling crookedly.

“We can try an iron knife, hopefully the ‘hot’ is optional? Honestly, I’m hoping the silver bullets will do it.” He sighed. “The lore is all over the place on this one.”

“Its a start at least.” Dean replied, giving a shot at optimism. “We can try a normal bridle and if that doesn’t work, try something else. Maybe etch some runes and crosses into it to be safe.” Leaning forward, Sam let out a rough moan as he rubbed at his eyes. Dean immediately leaned forward, brow furrowing with worry.

“Hey. Sammy. You okay?” Sam looked up at him, offering a tight smile before returning his face to his palms.

“Yeah. Awesome.” Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push any further. He just had to hope that Sam would let him know if his hallucinations were getting out of control again, preferably before trying to shoot him.

July 13, 2008 - Amity Sheriff Station

The woman wearing the sheriff's badge who greeted them at the door was short and slight, but still wore an aura of don’t-fuck-with-me that Hotchner couldn’t help but respect as he shook her hand.

“Sheriff Bridges?” The woman nodded. “I’m Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner. We spoke on the phone.” As the rest of his team entered the station, Hotchner turned to gesture at them each in turn. “This is my team, Dr. Reid, SSA Jareau, SSA Morgan, SSA Prentice, and SSA Rossi.”

“Welcome to Amity, Agent Hotchner.” The sheriff replied, nodding at the rest of the team. “We don’t have much space here, but we’ll give you what we have.”

“All we need is a conference room with a whiteboard.”

“We can do that.” The sheriff nodded at one of the deputies hovering nearby, who headed off into the back of the station. “Anything else?”

“I’d like to have Agents Morgan and Prentice go look at the crime scene if possible.” The sheriff gestured at another one of her deputies.

“Richards here can take you over to the river.”

“Rossi and I can go interview the fishermen who discovered the remains?” JJ proposed, her and Rossi turning and heading out after the departing Morgan and Prentice at Hotch’s nod.

“And I’ll go get a start on the geographic profile.” Reid said, pulling his satchel over his head.

“Alright. Follow me.” The sheriff headed into the building, Reid following.

“Excuse me sir?” Hotchner turned to find a small bespeckled man wearing a garishly coloured tie.

“Can I help you?”

“Tom Wilkins. I’m the local ME?”

“Oh yes, of course Dr. Wilkins, how do you do.” The men shook hands, and then Wilkins offered up a file from his other hand.

“I stopped by to give the Sheriff the complete ME’s report. Your technical analyst mentioned that you wanted it as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Hotchner replied, taking the file and flipping it open, “were there any toxins in the remains?” Wilkins shook his head. “No sir. None.” Hotch glanced back up at the doctor, eyebrow raised.

“None?” Wilkins shrugged helplessly. “What about the teeth marks?”

“32 teeth, which would point to human, but the dentition is all wrong. To be quite frank, I don’t really have a good explanation for them. A set of dentures, or simply sharpened teeth might account for it.” Hotch hummed in response.

“Thank you for dropping this off, Dr. Wilkins.”

“Sure thing Agent Hotchner. Have a good day.” Nodding his goodbye at the man, he headed into the back of the station, towards the room pointed out to him by a deputy as being designated for his team’s use.

“No toxins of any kind in the remains.” Hotch repeated as he entered the room Reid was currently occupying, still scanning the file given to him by the ME, looking up to see the young man had already begun sticking pins in the large map of the area hanging on the conference room wall. He glanced around the room. “Where did Sheriff Bridges go?”

“Hm? Oh, she said she was going to see if she could find a map of the town for me. But I think this map might actually be better.” Reid did a double take, looking back at Hotch.

“Wait, no toxins? Really?” Hotch nodded. “Then why weren’t they eaten…” Reid trailed off absentmindedly as he looked back at the map, adding another pin.

“So why is this map better?” Hotch asked, walking up to stand next to Reid.

“It includes the river. The river doesn’t actually run through the town, but its obviously inside our unsub’s comfort zone.”

“Any pattern to the abduction sites?”

“Its hard to say, since for most of the children we don’t know an exact abduction site. The toddlers are the most definite ones. The park that Tammy-May was abducted from borders the river here.” Reid tapped on a red pin. “And the park Jenny was abducted from is also on the river, just downstream on the other side here.” He pointed at another pin. “These are the only two abduction sites we are entirely certain about.”

“Given the unsub disposed of the remains on the river and took the two toddlers from near the river, it seems quite certain that the river holds some significance to him.”

“Yeah,” Reid agreed absently, “the others abduction sites are just guess work. But, if we hypothesise that the river is the is the focus of the unsub’s comfort zone, based on the abductions of the two toddlers and the disposal site, a pattern does emerge. Green disappeared between her friend’s house, here,” Reid tapped a spot on the map “and her home, here” he tapped another spot on the map. According to her friend, she always walked along the same route, which would have taken her past the river here.” Reid placed another red pin in the map at the spot he had indicated. “Sawyer’s route home from school was also predictable, and passed the river here.” Another red pin. “McKay was supposed to meet her boyfriend for a picnic by the river, but she never showed. They were supposed to meet here.” Another pin. “Though since she never showed, we have no way of knowing if that is even near where she was abducted. Similarly, Douglass skipped school the day he disappeared. His friends said they sometimes hangout on the back roads near the river here,” a final pin, “but again, we can’t know if that is where he was when we was abducted.”

“Not a lot of certainty.” Hotch observed.

“No. But it does create a distinct comfort zone.” The red pins had formed a small cluster around the black pin that marked the dump site.

“Looks like its the river then.” Hotch nodded.

“So whats the significance of the river?”

July 13th, 2008 - the banks of the Caddo River

“Why do monsters always living in the nastiest fucking areas? And why is it so goddamn hot out? I’m fucking swimming in sweat here.” Sam laughed as he and Dean squelched through the mud along the banks of the river.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be wearing a leather jacket in the middle of the day. In July.”

“Oh ha-ha-haaaa. We’ll see who’s laughing when all that skin you have hanging out of that stupid ass tank top ends up gluing you to the keplie and it drowns your gigantor ass.” Sam just laughed louder.

“Mother fucker…” Dean muttered as a step forward placed him in a hidden hole, plunging him knee deep into the mud.

“Shhhhhhh.” Sam hissed.

“What?” Dean snapped back, turning to look at his brother.

“Do you hear that?” And Dean did. Voices, coming closer. He and Sam ducked into the reeds that covered the river bank.

“–this is a really isolated area.” The man who walked into view was tall, and his muscles stood out impressively against the white tee-shirt he wore. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. The woman accompanying him was shorter than him, dressed in a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, her eyes similarly disguised by a large pair of sunglasses. The final member of their party was wearing a deputy’s uniform.

“Shit.” Dean muttered, grabbing at Sam’s arm, tugging on it. Sam swatted at him.

“Stop that.” Sam hissed back at him. He glanced back at the group of law enforcement officials that were still making their way over to the riverbank. “Six missing kids. Makes sense that the cops would be out here.” Dean shot his brother an incredulous look.

“Cops? Are you kidding me Sam? Those are fucking feds.” Sam blinked.

“Oh. Yeah.” Dean shot his brother a worried glance – Sam would usually be the first one to pick up on that – before peering over the reeds at the group. “Why now though? What brought them here?”

“The unsub would have to be very determined to use this specific spot as a dump site to make his way all the way out here.” The woman was saying as they drew closer to the river bank, peering down into a particular section of reeds that the deputy pointed to.

“So what is it about this spot?” The man replied. The woman shook her head.

“Its gotta have some personal significance.” The man nodded, glancing around.

“Dump site.” Sam whispered, eyes widening, turning to Dean and poking him in the ribs. “Entrails, Dean?”

“Ow! What the fuck? Entrails?”

“The lore has kelpies disposing of the entrails of its victim on the riverbank. Someone must have found the kelpie’s dumping spot and called in the feds.”

“Fuck.” Dean said with feeling, looking back up at the group, who were still peering around the area.

“Lets get some pictures of the area,” the woman was saying. “We can show them to Reid when we get back to the station.” The woman pulled out a camera, causing Dean and Sam to duck even lower, not daring to breath while the sound of the camera’s shutter clicking filled the stretch of riverbank. They finally straightened slightly as they heard the sounds of the group’s departure, and they watched as they left the way they came.

“Well,” Dean said, straightening after it had been long enough to be sure they weren’t about to return, “that makes this whole thing a lot more complicated.” Sam nodded somberly next to him. “Still.” Dean said, false cheerfulness filling his voice, the mud making a squelching noise as he dragged his boots out of the mud he had sunk into, “at least we know where the kelpie’s been dumping the bits of the kids it isn’t eating.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, mimicking Dean’s falsely upbeat tone, “really, the feds showing up is actually a blessing, not a disaster.”

“Exactly Sammy!” Dean chirped back, stopping at the spot that the feds had been standing, marked by the trampled reeds they had left behind them. Sam came up to stand next to them, both of them standing staring at the spot in the reeds outlined by crime scene tape, hands jammed in their pockets. “Well. This is not helpful.”

“Nope.” Sam replied. “Still,” he continued, looking around and squinting against the sun, “at least we now know that the kelpie’s lair is around here.”

“Do keplies have lairs?” Dean mused absently. Sam turned to him, meeting Dean’s eyes and frowning.

“I… don’t know?”

“I mean its pretty much monster tradition. Lairs, I mean.” Dean replied, turning around.

“Hey. Where are you going?” Sam took a couple of long strides to catch up with his brother.

“C’mon Sammy. We aren’t gonna find anything here. The site’s been disturbed. It might be a monster, but its not stupid. It’s not gonna be coming back anytime soon. But the feds might.” Sam sighed.

“How the fuck are we gonna find this thing then?” Dean snorted.

“I don’t fucking know. We could try just repeating what we did last time, and wander around until it attacks us?” Sam laughed.

“Awesome plan Dean.”

“Shut up Sam.”

July 14th, 2008 - Amity Sheriff Station

The team were slumped around the table in the conference room, surrounding by empty takeout containers and coffee mugs. They looked up as the sheriff walked in, raising her eyebrows as she took in the dishevelled group.

“No leads?” she questioned.

“No leads.” Prentice groaned in reply. The sheriff hummed in response.

“Well I just wanted to drop off the photos you took yesterday of the crime scene.” Reid took the proffered photographs, and the sheriff departed.

“No motive, no sign of where the murders took place, no real clues other than six missing children and the river” Morgan moaned, scrubbing at his eyes. “We’ve been here for a day and haven’t unearthed any new information other than what we started with, and what we started with isn’t enough to generate anything but the vaguest profile.”

“Well how about we focus closer on what we do have?” JJ proposed. “The river is clearly an important place for the unsub.”

“We should look into the history of the river.” Rossi replied, “That might lead us to someone who has a specific connection with the river.”

“Yeah,” JJ continued, warming to the idea, “we can also see if there’s a cabin or cave or something near the river, something that isn’t on the maps we’ve been provided with so far that might serve as the unsub’s killing ground.” Hotch nodded.

“That sounds good JJ. You and Rossi go talk to the sheriff, see if there is anyone or anywhere in town that would have that kind of information.” Rossi and JJ stood, grabbing their bags. Outside of the room, they ran into the sheriff, and the team heard her telling them about a local historian who would know about any buildings in the area, as well as the local geological society for any information on caves, before the door shut behind them, cutting off the rest of their conversation.

“Prentice, can you call Garcia? We need her to look into the history of the town, see if there’s any significant events centred on the river, in particular things that might not have made it onto the official record.” Prentice nodded, following the other two agents out of the room.

“What about-” Morgan began, but Reid interrupted, still looking at the photographs that the sheriff had dropped off.

“Look at this.” He pushed one of the photographs into the centre of the table, where Morgan and Hotch leaned over it. “There’s something in the reeds here.” Morgan nodded, spotting the sliver of black… something barely visible through the plants.

“I didn’t notice that when we were out there. What is it?” Reid shook his head.

“I can’t tell from this photograph. But I think we should go back out there and check.” Hotch nodded.

“Mogan, Reid, follow up on this. Perhaps there is something out there that we missed before.” The two men stood, Reid pulling his satchel over his head.

“Do we need to take a deputy?”

“Nah,” Morgan shook his head, “I remember how to get out there. Prentice and I noticed that cell service is sketchy out there though, so we might not get any calls while we’re gone.” He warned, looking at Hotch. The older man nodded, and the two agents departed.

July 14th, 2008 - The Bluebell Motel

Sam frowned, looking back over his notes. “I really don’t know how we’re going to track this thing Dean. Unless we have a child to use as bait, we can’t draw it out…”

“And I doubt we can just wander around until its giant horse self jumps out and fucking attacks us again.” Dean replied wryly from his spot on the bed where he was loading their guns with silver bullets.

“There might be more specific information on the area and where the keplie might be at the library…” Sam trailed off, staring wide-eyed at a spot on the wall, rubbing the scar on his hand.

“Sammy?” Dean hopped up, crossing the room to his brother, snapping his fingers in front of his eyes. “Sammy? You with me?”

“What?” Sam visibly startled, “Yeah, um, I’ll go to… there’s a geological society in town, I can…” He trailed off again. Dean clasped his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Listen, Sammy, how about you stay here, keep surfing the web, and I’ll check out the geological society.” Sam nodded absently, looking back at the computer screen. Dean grabbed his car keys and after one final worried glance at his brother, headed out.

“Hey Dean, there’s a few mentions in the lore of keplies being particularly attracted to lost souls. We might be able to draw it out by getting lost? Though there’s always the question of whether or not intentionally getting lost will actually create the same effect as truly getting lost…or if lost is figurative or literal in this case.” Sam trailed off as he looked up. “Okay Dean,” Sam spoke again, sounding more certain. “I’m going to do that. You stay here and keep researching.” He stood, tucking his gun into his waistband and heading out towards the river.

July 14th, 2008 - bank of the Caddo River

Morgan and Reid emerged from the woods onto the edge of the river, the sounds of their friendly bickering carrying across the river. They froze as they spotted the man standing by the water’s edge, peering down into their crime scene, the crime scene tape he had clearly torn through caught in the reeds nearby, waving in the wind. Both men placed their hands on their guns, splitting up to approach the man from either side. Despite the crunch of undergrowth that made their approach impossible to disguise, the man didn’t look up from his examination of the crime scene, and as they drew closer, Morgan could hear the man muttering to himself. He meet Reid’s eyes as they stopped within a meter of the man.

“Hey!” Morgan spoke loudly, but the man still didn’t so much as twitch. “Hey!” He repeated, louder, and the man startled, whipping around, his eyes flicking between Reid and Morgan, his entire body immediately turning into a tense line. Reid’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t able to help the soft ‘holy shit’ that slipped from his lips. Morgan looked at his partner briefly before returning his wary gaze to the man between them.

“Sam Winchester.” Reid spoke loudly, and the man startled again, before relaxing, a smile sliding across his face. Morgan’s eyes widened.

“Who’s Sam Winchester?” His voice was casual, and if Morgan hadn’t just seen it, he would have never believed that the man had been startled at all. The change in his demeanour was so complete, it was almost as if he had become a different person.

Morgan remembered hearing all about the Winchesters from Henrickson, the lead investigator on their case. The Winchesters had cut a bloody swath through America for years, but had died in an explosion years ago that had also killed Henrickson. But he trusted Reid (and Reid’s memory) and if he said this man was Sam Winchester, he was Sam Winchester.

Whether or not the man was their unsub, Sam Winchester and his brother were very, very dangerous men. And then there was the question of where, exactly, was Dean.

Both Morgan and Reid drew their guns in sync, pointing them at the man between them, but not yet placing their fingers on the trigger. The Winchesters were never unarmed, and the agents kept a careful eye on him as he slowly raised his arms, his smile faltering slightly, but keeping up his air of confused friendliness.

“I think y’all have the wrong guy.” The soft Southern accent wasn’t what Morgan expected, but the kept his gun trained on the man.

“You’re Sam Winchester,” Reid replied, “born on May 2, 1983 to John and Mary Winchester in Lawrence, Kansas. Older brother Dean Winchester. Spent several years atop the FBI’s most wanted list, known crimes include breaking and entering, credit card fraud, grave desecration and grave robbing, assaulting an officer, impersonation of an officer, grand theft auto, kidnapping, and murder.” Sam’s face didn’t change from pleasant befuddlement as Reid listed off his crimes, except to raise a single eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Reid looked like he was about to start arguing with Winchester, so Morgan took the opportunity to edge closer.

"Sam Winchester, you’re under arrest.” He pulled out his handcuffs and suddenly Winchester was moving, side-stepping Morgan and putting additional distance between himself and the two agents as a gun appeared in his hand, pointed steadily at Morgan’s head, a knife in the one pointed towards Reid.

“Now, I don’t want any trouble.” The accent was abruptly gone, and Morgan exchanged a glance at Reid.

“Don’t be stupid, Sam,” Reid replied, “you’re outnumbered. Just put down the weapons and put your hands on your head.” Sam opened his mouth to reply when there was a soft clicking from the direction of the river. Reid glanced over his shoulder, then looked back again, eyes widening.

“Morgan.” The man barely glanced towards his partner, keeping his gaze on Winchester, but Sam was no longer focusing on the agents, instead looking back over his own shoulder. “Morgan,” Reid repeated, more urgently, and Morgan finally turned his gaze in the direction the other two men were looking in.

“What the fuck.”

Standing in the shallows of the river was a young man, Morgan would guess his age to be around 15 or 16. He was dripping wet, and naked save for a pair of torn and stained jeans. His hair was long and black, plastered to his skin and woven with what appeared to be some sort of kelp. More disturbing were his eyes, which were pitch black with no whites. His gaze was fixed on Reid.

Morgan’s gun had dropped slightly without him realizing it, but he brought it back up, training it on Winchester again.

“Get out of here kid!” He spoke, trying to hide the nervous waver in his voice. He didn’t know what a kid was doing out here, never mind in a costume like that, but he had to get away from Winchester before Sam could take him hostage. The Winchesters had a history of taking hostages, and it never ended well for the hostages. The kid opened his mouth, revealing a rows of razor sharp teeth, and the same soft clicking came from the back of his throat as he stepped forward, slowly moving towards Reid. Morgan watched as Winchester turned, raising his gun and pointing it at the kid. Acting quickly, Morgan fired just as Winchester began to squeeze the trigger, and was relieved when the man cursed, clutching his arm where Morgan’s bullet had hit.

“Drop the gun Winchester,” Morgan shouted, just as the boy lunged forward, grabbing Reid’s arm and dragging him backwards into the river. Time seemed to speed up, everything happening before Morgan had the chance to react. Winchester cursed loudly diving forward and catching hold of the boy’s arm as he pulled Reid under the water, all three of the men instantly disappearing beneath the dark water.

“Reid!” Morgan shouted, wading into the water. But they were gone.

July 14th, 2008 - Amity Geological Society

The file room in the basement was stupidly easy to break into, though Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from a podunk town’s tiny geological society. It had taken him a while to find the correct cabinet, since the organization system in place seemed haphazard at best, nonexistent at worst. Putting his flashlight between his teeth, Dean pulled out a file labelled, in the most vague and unhelpful way possible, ‘caves’. Humming Metallica to himself under his breath, he began to scan the page.

“Yeah, the files on local geological formations are just down here,” the man was saying as he opened the door to the basement, heading down the stairs, “sorry, the light’s at the bottom…” The man trailed off as he turned on the light and spotted a man standing in the middle of the room, staring at the agents in surprise. “Who the hell are you? You’re not supposed to be here!” The man standing in the room slowly reached up and took the flashlight out of his mouth.

“Um…” he said articulately, and then abruptly turned and bolted.

“Hey!” shouted JJ as she and Rossi took off in pursuit. The chase didn’t last long, however, as they turned the corner to find the man looking at the walls around him in defeat.

“Fuck.” He said with feeling, as he turned and raised his hands in surrender. “Um, just kidding?” JJ kept the gun pointed at the man while Rossi pulled out his cuffs, walking over to the man and cuffing him before beginning to briskly frisk him. The man from the geological society nervously came around the corner.

“Uh, I have your files on local geological formations? He was looking at them…” JJ holstered her gun, taking the files from his shaking hand.

“Thanks. Sorry about the fuss.”

“No problem.” He replied faintly, “I’ll just… uh…” He wandered off.

“Hey JJ,” Rossi called, drawing JJ back to where he was standing next to the suspect and a still-growing pile of weapons. Raising her eyebrow, JJ stepped forward, making eye contact with the guy who was looking resigned.

“Oh my god. How many weapons do you have on you?” The man just smirked as Rossi pulled a final knife from a sheath on his ankle.

“Okay, that’s all of them. C’mon JJ, lets get this guy back to the station.”

July 14th, 2008 - Amity Sheriff Station

Rossi had just finished securing the suspect in the station’s sole interrogation room and joined the rest of the team back in the conference room when Morgan burst in, eyes frantically flicking between his team members. Hotch stood up, concerned.

“Morgan.” He paused when Reid didn’t follow behind Morgan. “Where’s Reid?”

“Reid’s gone.” Morgan’s voice was hoarse from shouting, and the rest of the team startled, eyes flying wide. There was a moment of silence before the team pulled themselves together.

“What do you mean,” Hotch spoke first, “Reid is gone?”

“We went down to the river, but there was someone already there. A man. Reid recognized him. It was Sam Winchester.”

“Sam Winchester?” Prentice spoke, voice disbelieving. “Of Sam and Dean Winchesters? The killers Henrickson was hunting? The ones who died?” Morgan nodded.

“Yeah. But when we tried to arrest him, he pulled a gun. Then his accomplice turned up, this teenage boy. He grabbed Reid and they all disappeared into the river. I couldn’t find them.” Morgan shook his head, disbelievingly, “They were right in front of me, and then I couldn’t find them.”

“So the Winchesters, or at least Sam, are our killers? And they have Reid?” JJ’s voice had a tinge of panic to it.

“Wait,” Rossi interrupted, “who’s the guy who we caught breaking into the geological society then? What does he have to do with all this?”

“You’re assuming that the two are related,” JJ pointed out.

“He was looking at the same files we were there for,” Rossi countered.

“Wait,” Morgan stopped them, throwing up his hands, “what guy?” JJ opened her mouth to reply, but before she got the chance, the Sheriff appeared in the doorway.

“Agents,” she began, face grim, “we just got the fingerprint results back for our B&E guy. You’re not gonna believe who he is.”

“Who?” Prentice asked, standing.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Shit.” JJ said, joining the rest of the team on their feet. Silence filled the room for a tense moment, before Hotch spoke.

“Okay,” he said, decisively. “Sheriff, you take Agent Morgan and a team of your people back down to the river. Are you okay to organize a search down there for Sam Winchester and our missing agent.” The sheriff nodded.

“You got it. Agent Morgan?” Morgan nodded at her, then the team, before following after the retreating sheriff’s back.

“The rest of us will stay here. We need to pull together a profile on the Winchesters, and fast. Hopefully the search party will find Winchester and Reid, but given the Winchesters’ history of escaping from law enforcement, chances are not good that we will be able to find Sam on our own. We need to focus on the profile, and on interrogating Dean.”

July 14th, 2008 - under the Caddo River

Reid groaned softly, reaching up to rub the back of his head as he leaned forwards. He had been slumped against something hard, and as he cautiously cracked open his eyes and looked around, he saw that he was in a cave, lit by an indeterminate source that seemed to be coming from the pool of water he could see on the far side of the cave, the ripples causing strangle reflections and shadows to dance across the cave walls. He sat up more, noting that he was unrestrained, and took a better look at his surroundings, barely stifling a yelp as he saw there was a body lying next to him. A closer glance revealed that the man’s back was moving slightly with breaths, and Reid breathed out a sigh of relief. Cautiously reaching over, he grabbed the shoulder of the man and rolled him over, recoiling nervously as he saw the unconscious man was Sam Winchester. The events leading up to his presence in the cave abruptly came back to him, and he looked around for the teenage boy that had grabbed him earlier, but there was no one else in the cave, though there was a pile of what looked uncomfortably like human bones on the other side of Winchester.

Reid tried to stand, but sat back down with a moan when a sharp pain shot up his left leg. Reaching out and running his hand down the calve, he could feel that the leg had already begun to swell. Most likely broken then. He sighed. Great. More crutches. He looked around for something to help him stand, but didn’t see anything. No standing for him then, unless Winchester helped him up…

Just as he was starting to worry about brain damage in the other man, serial killer or no, Winchester groaned, and, mimicking Reid’s earlier movement, sat up and rubbed at his head. He looked around, starting as he saw Reid, who gave him a nervous smile as he edged away. Winchester sat up completely, putting his back against the wall as he finished scanning the area. They sat for a moment in awkward silence, before Reid decided he should probably start building some sort of rapportwith Winchester before the man decided to bash his head in against the wall of the cave. Disoriented and hurt or not, the man looked like he could easily squash Reid like a bug.

“Um, so…” but Reid trailed off, at a loss as of what to say. Who had the teenager been? Why had he grabbed Reid? Was he working with the Winchesters? Were the Winchesters even involved in this case, or was Amity just stuck with the horrid luck of having three serial killers in town? He frantically scanned his brain for any knowledge of the Winchesters from when they had been on the most wanted list. Henriksen had requested a profile from the BAU at one point, but Morgan and Hotch had been the ones to put it together, and he only ever knew the basics. Winchester glanced at him curiously in response to Reid’s aborted sentence, but then looked away, apparently more interested in the cave they’d found themselves in than in Reid.

Sam and Dean Winchester. In November of 1983, their mother, Mary, died in a house fire. Their father, John, began rambling about demons before packing up the family and beginning to move them around the country. Records for the family became sketchy at that point. CPS had been called on John several times, but other than a couple of short stays with foster families, the boys had never been removed from their father’s custody. There had also been a number of warrants out for John over the course of their childhood, but the family always skipped town before any arrests could be made. Dean dropped out of high school before graduating, though he had gone on to earn his GED. Sam, on the other hand, excelled in school, despite frequent moves, and ended up earning a full ride to Stanford.

Reid nervously flicked a glance at the other man, who was now, Reid noted with no small amount of horror, picking through the pile of bones Reid had noticed earlier, a look of detached curiosity on his face, betraying no other reaction to the fact that he was holding a child’s skull in his hands. So Sam Winchester was very intelligent. But his run-ins with the law had stopped while he was at Stanford and separated from his family. Then his girlfriend, Jess, had died in 2005 in a fire remarkably similar to the one that killed his mother. After that, Sam disappeared with his brother and the only records of them came from encounters with the law.

Later that year, Dean was arrested for brutally murdering a number of women, but was supposedly killed. Yet he and Sam turned up again in 2006 in Baltimore, and then again in a bank robbery in Milwaukee. Their crimes had no consistent MO, ranging from the sexual sadism demonstrated by Dean in the original spree killings to the rage filled decapitation seen in the 2007 killing of Gordon Walker, a known associate of the Winchesters.

So, Reid thought desperately, as Sam began moving around the rest of the cave, what did that tell him about Winchester?

Their MO was too inconsistent to fit into any profile, and their behaviour too organized to support the kind of psychosis implied by Dean’s Baltimore confession. But if John was the one in their family suffering from that particular delusion originally, he may have passed his beliefs onto his sons. Not suffering from their father’s mental illness, the Winchesters would have been able to carry on their father’s legacy without the disorganization inherent in that level of psychosis. Was John still controlling their behaviour? But there had been no sightings of John after 2006. So even if John had been involved then, he no longer was. If he had been abusive to the boys during their childhood, as their CPS record indicated, and the Winchesters had been raised on murder, they may even have killed him in revenge.

But then Sam went to Stanford. If Sam had escaped from his family to go to school, had Dean or John killed his girlfriend to draw him back in? Given that Dean was the older of the two, it was highly likely that he was the dominant personality in the partnership. Their lack of outside relationships implied a bond that was incredibly codependent, most likely unhealthily obsessive, giving credence to the idea that Dean had killed Sam’s girlfriend to get his brother back. So Sam was most likely a submissive partner in a pair of highly organized killers who had adopted the ideology of an extreme psychosis that resulted in brutal murders wherever they went.

But, Sam also had created bonds with others during his time at Standford. So it might be possible for him to create bonds outside of his relationship with is brother. The first thing to do, Reid decided, was to try and create a bond with Sam so that the other man would be less likely to kill him. Clearing his throat, Reid began to speak again as Sam glanced at him curiously from where he was staring into the water-filled opening of the cave, “My name’s Reid. Spencer Reid. You’re Sam right?” The other man sighed in resignation.

“Yeah I guess there’s no point denying that anymore.” He replied with a wry grin. “I’m Sam. Nice to meet you Reid. You’re an FBI agent?” Reid nodded.

“Yeah, with the BAU.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of you guys.” Sam actually looked kind of excited, “You profile serial killers, don’t you? That’s an interesting area of study. I’ve actually read a couple of books by, um, a David Rossi?” Reid nodded, trying a smile.

“Right, yeah, I actually work with him.” Sam looked impressed.

“So are you guys out here for the kids?” Reid’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been expecting Sam to bring that up.

“Um, yeah, yes we are. A-are you?” Sam nodded, smiling crookedly.

“Bit of a different way then you are, but yeah, that’s why we’re here.” Reid swallowed. Was that a confession? Were the Winchesters the killers they were looking for? But that still didn’t explain the teenager… Winchester wandered over to where Reid was sitting, slumping down on the floor next to him as Reid stiffened with the proximity, though he was pretty sure now Winchester wasn’t about to suddenly smash his head in. The men sat in silence for several moments before Winchester chuckled. Reid looked over at him, confused and alarmed, and Sam shot him a self-deprecating smile.

“Sorry, its just, my brother is going to be so pissed when he finds out that I’m here.” Reid blinked. So Dean was alive as well, and here, though it sounded like he didn’t Sam was in this cave with Reid.

“Um, so your brother is in town as well?” Sam nodded, a curious look in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Reid smiled nervously.

“Its just, you’ve both been declared dead a couple of times…” He winced slightly. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought that up. But Sam simply laughed.

“Yeah, that happens a lot. No, Dean and I got into town… two days ago?” Reid startled.

“Not four months ago?”

“No?” Sam replied, brow furrowed in confusion, “Why would we have-” his face suddenly cleared in understanding. “Wait, you think we’re the ones killing these kids?”

“Um…” Reid was saved from formulating a reply by the sound of splashing coming from the pool on the other side of the cave, and he watched with wide eyes as the teenager that had grabbed him before slowly rose out of the water, black eyes glinting eerily in the strange light coming from below. The same soft clicking came from the boy’s mouth as he walked towards the two men.

Reid opened his mouth to speak, to ask the boy what he was doing, why he was wearing that costume… any sort of explanation really, but was stopped by the tight grip of Winchester’s hand on his arm. Reid glanced over at the other man to see him staring, tight lipped, at the boy in front of him. His eyes flicked from the boy to Winchester and back again. Winchester was visibly afraid of the boy, which didn’t make sense as he outweighed the youth by a hundred pounds at least. Was the boy somehow controlling the Winchesters? Was he the organizing force behind the murders of all the children? Or were the Winchesters not involved at all. Scenarios flashed across Reid’s mind lightening fast as he tracked the boy’s progress across the room. He just couldn’t figure out the dynamic between the boy and the older man sitting next to him. What the hell was going on?

The soft clicking continued to emit from the boy’s mouth as he reached the two men, slowly running a hand down the side of Sam’s face, head tilting from side to side as his fingers left a trail of water down the man’s jaw. Up close, Reid could see that the boy’s gums were black and rotted even as his teeth were sharpened into vicious points. His tongue too appeared black in the open maw of his mouth, and Reid flinched as he turned to Reid and repeated his earlier gesture. When Reid didn’t move, the boy smiled, a gruesome gesture that was somehow more disturbing than the opened mouth starring. Suddenly the boy let out an ear-piercing shriek, and Reid turned, astonished, to see Sam holding a strangle looking knife that he had just struck out at the boy with. The boy shuffled back with inhumanly quick movements, eyes flicking between the two men, sharp syllables in an language Reid didn’t recognize falling from his lips. Winchester staggered to his feet, holding the knife out in front of him, but before he could lunge forward the boy let out a final shriek and jumped back into the water, disappearing from sight.

July 14th, 2008 - Amity Sheriff Station

The team were clustered around the one way glass, peering in on the man sitting in the interrogation room. He was slumped casually his chair, absentmindedly playing with the chains that were keeping him tied to the table and whistling…

“Is that Creedence Clearwater Revival?” Hotch asked without inflection.

“Bad Moon Rising.” Rossi confirmed dryly. The man looked completely unconcerned about his present situation, though the profilers could detect an underlying tension that would be invisible to the casual observer.

“That’s Dean Winchester.” Prentiss commented, sounding dubious.

"Yup,” confirmed Garcia from the phone held in Prentiss’ hand. “Prints were 100%. That man is definitely Dean Winchester.”

“He’s killed a lot of people,” commented Rossi.

“A lot of women,” JJ added, the tension in her voice obvious to her teammates. “What I want to know,” she continued, “is where the hell his brother took Spence.”

“Lets find out.” Hotch replied. “Prentiss, you go in on your own at first.” Prentiss shot a curious look at her boss. “Garcia is still working on pulling together the complete Winchester files-”

“That I am,” Garcia interrupted, “which is being made much more difficult given that they are supposed to be dead. I’m also seeing if I can find any other crimes post 2006 that I can tie to the Winchesters, now that we know they were alive and still operating, but they are a slippery pair of bastards sir.”

“Thanks Garcia,” Prentiss replied, hanging up the phone. Hotch continued.

“What we do know, however, is that Dean most likely has a serious problem with women. Henrickson, the lead investigator on their case prior to his death, speculated that Dean killed his brother’s girlfriend in 2005 in order to force Sam to reunite with him, and to isolate him from any outside influences. The murders in St. Louis speak to a sexual sadist. He beat Emily Carter to death, tortured and killed Vicky Rosenburg while her husband was out, and was eventually caught in the process of torturing Becky Warren to death in her own home. In Milwaukee, over the course of a bank robbery, he partially skinned and murdered another woman. And those are the cases that they have definitive evidence for; it is highly likely that there are more women that Dean tortured to death over the course of his life. I want to see how he reacts when confronted with a self-assured, confident woman. It will let us know how much of the original profile was accurate, and give us a starting point to begin pushing him towards revealing the location of his brother.”

“Okay.” Prentiss nodded, leaving the room. The team turned back to the glass as Prentiss entered the room, greeting Winchester, who immediately sat up straight, giving the agent a wide grin.

Dean looked up with as an agent walked into the room, sitting up and giving her a wide grin when he saw how gorgeous she was. Hey, he might be in a fuckton of trouble, and sure, Sam was probably gonna kill him when he realized that Dean had been caught by the fuckin’ feds, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a bit of harmless flirting in the meantime.

“I’m SSA Emily Prentice of the BAU.” The woman offered.

“And I’m Dean. But I’m guessing you already knew that.” Dean smirked.

“Well Dean. This is quite a record you’ve got.” Prentiss replied, setting a file down on the table as she settled into the chair opposite Winchester. “And I have to say, you are looking pretty good for a dead guy.” Dean leaned back in his chair.

“Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Dean replied with a wink.

“So Dean,” Prentiss continued, ignoring Dean’s obvious flirting, “what was it that made you want to kill all these women?” As she spoke, she flicked open the file on the table, spreading out the gruesome crime scene photos inside and pushing them across the table towards Dean. His eyes briefly flicked down to the photos before looking back up at her. Not interested in the photos, she noted, no pride or enjoyment, though she thought she caught a brief flash of disgust before a guarded expression slid over his face, all attempts at flirting abruptly halted.

“I didn’t.” He said, offering nothing further. Prentiss raised her eyebrows. The flirting and charming attitude could explain how he got so many women to trust him. However, he also hadn’t exhibited any of the anger towards woman that was splashed across the crime scene photos sitting on the table. She decided to step up her aggression.

“You were caught, by the police, in the process of torturing Becky Warren Dean. We know you did it. So why? What was it about these women? Did they turn you down? Or maybe you just couldn’t–” and here Prentiss flicked her eyes down towards where Dean’s lap was hidden by the table, derision clear in her voice and eyes, “-perform.” she finished, sneering. To her shock, Dean laughed in reply.

“Seriously?” He sobered when Prentiss’ face didn’t change other than to raise an eyebrow. “Wait, seriously? That’s why people do shit like this? Damn.” Dean shook his head slowly. “People are crazy.” Prentiss pressed her lips together. This guy wasn’t reacting like someone who disliked women. He wasn’t reacting like she’d expected at all. She shot a look over her shoulder at the glass, before deciding to change tactics. Adopting a sympathetic and sincere tone, she leaned in over the table.

“So you’re saying you didn’t do this? You were falsely accused?”

“Lady,” Dean drawled, leaning forward and resting his crossed arms on the table, “I ain’t sayin’ anything. ” Winchester then proceeded to prove himself true to his word, refusing to say anything else.

“Shit.” Rossi said with feeling from behind the glass.

July 14th, 2008 - under the Caddo River

Reid rapidly flicked his eyes between the water the boy had disappeared into and Winchester.

“What… what just happened?” Sam lowered the knife with a sigh, Reid edging away from him at the reminder that Winchester was suddenly visibly armed, though he supposed logically he must have had the knife on him the whole time they had been in the cave.

“I wasn’t sure that was going to work.”

“What… what would work? What just happened?” Reid repeated, voice going a bit high pitched at the end to his embarrassment. Winchester met Reid’s eyes, face resigned.

“I lost my gun in the river, I guess, but it didn’t get this. Dean and I weren’t even sure if iron would work, the lore is so fucking unclear on this case.” Reid opened and closed his mouth, not sure what to say in reply, and not willing to keep repeating his question. Seeing that Reid was still at a loss, and still glancing nervously at the knife, Sam tucked it back into whatever hidden sheath he had taken it from, meeting the young agent’s eyes.

“My brother and I… we hunt monsters.” Reid kept his face carefully neutral. The psychosis affecting the Winchester family was centered around the idea of vigilantism against evil creatures – originally afflicting John, he had clearly taught it to his sons, who had internalized and perpetuated the older man’s delusions. He would have to tread very carefully to avoid provoking Winchester, as this would be the area in which he was most volatile and easy to provoke.

“The creature that’s been killing the children here, it’s a keplie.”

“Kelpie,” replied Reid without thinking, “Scottish water creature, able to transform from a horse into a human form. Drowns and eats human children. Can be killed after rendered docile by a bridle.” Sam smiled at him, nodding.

“Yeah. The lore also talked about silver bullets and hot iron though. I had silver bullets in the gun that I lost. We weren’t sure if the iron knife would work, but I had it on me just in case. Seems like it’s at least afraid of it, which is probably a good indicator that it can be killed by it.” Reid swallowed. So Sam planned to kill that teenage boy. But it still didn’t explain how they’d ended up here.

“So,” Reid began cautiously, “the kelpie captured us?”

“Yes. I’m not sure why, since the lore has it primarily attacking children, but it might have been just because we repeatedly entered its territory, and it was feeling threatened.”

“We can’t get out?”

“No. Well, I mean yes.” Sam replied, gesturing towards the water, “There seems to be some kind of tunnel filled with water leading out of here, but I don’t know how far it goes. So trying to swim it is a gamble.”

“But it’s the only entrance so we may not have a choice.” Reid pointed out. Sam nodded, sighing.

“Yeah. It’d be a risk trying it before we gank the kelpie though – if we run into it while underwater, a fight would be very difficult, and it would be easy for it to drown both of us.” Reid nodded. He still didn’t really understand who the teenager was, or what the relationship was between him and Sam, but he couldn’t press the man for more information without revealing that he didn’t believe him, and potentially triggering a violent reaction. Given the boy’s bizarre behaviour, he was finding it difficult to determine how he fit into it.

The two men sat in silence for several minutes before Sam abruptly gave a violent twitch. Reid looked over at the man, to see him staring at a blank spot across the room, lips moving minutely as he rubbed at a scar on the palm of his hand.

"Sam?” Reid asked, voice nervous, leaning forward in an attempt to catch the man’s eye. The man moved abruptly, turning to look at the agent. His eyes widened in obvious surprise, before he stuttered out a reply.

“Who… who are you?” It was Reid’s turn to widen his eyes in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. Forgetting the person who he was with… perhaps the family’s mental illness hadn’t begun with John… or at least hadn’t ended there. Perhaps his father’s psychosis had contributed to the development of schizophrenia in the younger Winchester? Maybe multiple personality disorder? Dean might then be using Sam’s delusions as an excuse to exercise his sexual sadism. He took a moment to regroup while Sam looked at him, clearly confused.

“My name’s Reid. I’m a friend. Your name is Sam.” Sam furrowed his brow, looking even more confused instead of less.

“I know I’m Sam.” he replied, and Reid mentally ruled out multiple personality disorder. “What are you doing here? Who created you?”

“I… no one created me? I’m an FBI agent, I catch serial killers.” Sam tilted his head, before looking around, eyes widening. He slid across the ground until he was right next to Reid, and Reid had to force himself to stay still as the younger man approached him.

“You need to stay quiet.” Sam whispered. “I don’t know how you got here, but you need to stay quiet, okay? I’ll try and protect you but I can’t make any promises.”

“Protect me from who?” Reid asked, deciding to again go along with the man’s delusion. But he couldn’t help his shock at Sam’s reply.

“Lucifer,” Sam replied, face dead serious. “He’s coming.”

July 15th, 2008 - the banks of the Caddo River

The team the Sheriff had pulled together was fanned out along the bank, with Morgan taking the flank closest to the river while the Sheriff was closest to the forest. Between them were stretched the town’s two deputies, and three volunteer firefighters. Walking slowly, they searched for any sign of the missing agent and his abductors.

July 15th, 2008 - Amity Sheriff Station

The team was back in the conference room, Prentiss having left after fifteen minutes straight of stubborn silence from Dean. They had been sitting, reviewing the files that Garcia had sent over, but had reached a dead end.

“This guy’s unreal,” Rossi said, voice incredulous. “Have you seen the confession tape from Baltimore? What is going through this guy’s head?”

“I can’t get a read on this guy.” JJ ground out in frustration, shutting her file with a slap. “None of this makes sense.” She reached over and pushed a button on the phone in the middle of the table.

“Speak and you shall receive.” Garcia’s voice filled the room with cheerful energy.

“Hey Garcia, you’re on speaker.”

“Hey gorgeous. You calling about the Winchester’s activity post-2006?”

“Yes,” Hotch replied, “we’re having trouble building a profile from the information we have so far, its all very inconsistent. We’re hoping information on their last couple of years will give us a better idea of what’s going on here.”

“Well I’m afraid I don’t have much my darling. Their entire history is extremely hard to track. Since they use scammed credit cards, there’s no paper trail, and they seem to regularly rotate out stolen plates on their car, so unless they were spotted in town, its difficult to be definite about whether or not they were in any particular place. Based on potential sightings, weird unsolved cases, and a couple of known aliases, I’ve traced out a rough route. The trail goes dead a lot though.” Garcia paused for breath, before continuing. “Here’s where it gets weird though. For a whole year Dean dropped off the grid, but Sam started popping up even more. And not in subtle ways either. The killings that I can roughly link to him are more brutal and there are no attempts to hide them.” Rossi raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps we’ve got the brother’s dynamics entirely backwards?”

“Alright, thanks Garcia. Send us over-?” Hotch asked.

“The files? Done and done! Adios my darlings!” There was a click as Garcia disconnected.

“So did we get it backwards?” Prentiss asked. “Is Sam the dominant one?” JJ shook her head.

“That’s inconsistent with their earlier activities,” she pointed out. “Dean was the sole perpetrator of the St. Louis murders-”

“As far as we know,” Rossi interrupted, “Sam might have been involved as well, he just avoided getting caught.”

“So what are we thinking?” Prentiss asked. “Did Henrickson get it wrong? Is Sam the dominant one?”

“It seems probable,” JJ said, warming to the idea, “there are more cases on file where Sam was the only perpetrator they have evidence of being there. The murder of Madison Vaugier in 2006 in San Francisco. The murder and exsanguination of a nurse in Ilchester in 2008… and there are no cases, other than the murders in St. Louis, where the evidence points to only Dean being involved. And the evidence on that case was also tentative at best.”

“So it might be Sam who is the aggressor. And he’s with Reid.” Rossi’s voice was tight, and the team shifted uncomfortably.

“So what do we do now?”

“We need to take another shot at getting him to talk. If he’s the submissive, maybe we can convince him to give up his brother to get away from him.”

“Who do we send in?” JJ asked.

“Rossi and I will go in.” Hotch replied. “He didn’t respond to Prentiss well, so we need to try another approach. We’re not sure about the nature of his relationship with his father, so Rossi will try that angle.” Rossi nodded, not finding any fault with Hotch’s logic. The team stood as one, moving back down to the interrogation room. Hotch and Rossi filed into the room, while the rest piled into the adjacent observation room.

Scraping their chairs back, Rossi and Hotch took their seats across from Dean, who hadn’t even looked up from his position when they entered the room, slumped over the table with his head resting face-down on his arms.

“Mr. Winchester.” Hotch spoke, and Dean finally looked up.

“Hey,” he said, voice bland, “you’re new.” Hotch smiled tightly in reply.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, this is SSA Rossi.”

“What were you doing last year?” Rossi asked, ignoring Winchester’s comments and Hotch’s introduction. Dean turned to look at him.

“What?”

“What were you doing last year,” Rossi repeated, pulling out some of the crime scene photos from the cases Garcia had suggested might have been Sam’s handiwork and laying them out on the table in front of Dean, “while your brother was doing this.” A pained look flashed across Dean’s face and he wasn’t able to hide the fear in his eyes when he looked back up at Rossi, and he seemed to shrink into himself.

“Battle Creek, Michigan.”

“Sorry?” Rossi replied, startled.

“I was in Battle Creek.”

“You were living there?”

“Yes.”

“What made you decide to settle somewhere, after living a nomadic life since you were a child?” Dean shrugged at that, apparently unwilling to expand further. Hotch decided to take a different approach.

“Why did you and your brother separate?” Dean stared at them for a minute, apparently debating about whether or not to answer, before sighing.

“I thought he was dead.” Hotch raised an eyebrow.

“You thought your brother was dead?” Dean nodded, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah. I watched him fall…” he paused, “but I was wrong.” He shrugged.

“So while you believed your brother dead, you settled into a normal life?” Dean smiled crookedly.

“Guess I did.” Hotch and Rossi exchanged a look. So without Sam, Dean settled down into an ordinary, civilian life.

“But Sam came back.” Rossi continued. Dean sighed.

“He did.” The agents exchanged another look.

“Dean, where’s Sam now?” Hotch asked, and Dean’s demeanour immediately changed. His shoulders hunched in and he was instantly filled with tension, mouth thinning to a small line. After a minute, it became clear that Dean wasn’t about to respond.

“Dean,” Rossi took over, changing track, “where would Sam have taken Agent Reid?”

“Sam?” Dean repeated, looking back and forth between the two agents, abruptly sitting straight, “Agent Reid? What the fuck are you talking about?” Rossi frowned.

“Agent Morgan and Agent Reid ran into Sam down by the river. Sam and his accomplice grabbed Agent Reid and disappeared?”

“Sammy was by the river?” Winchester’s voice was now sharp with anger. “Goddamnit.” He suddenly slammed a hand down against the table, causing the two agents to jump. “He was supposed to stay in the fucking room.”

“So Sam doesn’t-” but Dean wasn’t listening, speaking over Rossi. “Wait, accomplice? What accomplice?”

“A teenager.” Hotch replied. “15 or 16. Long dark hair?” Dean was looking at him, a growing expression of horror on his face.

“Did he come from the river?” He interrupted urgently. Hotch startled.

“Yes, how did-”

“And he took Sam and this agent of yours? Into the river?” Hotch nodded.

“FUCK.” Dean slammed the table again. “Motherfucker.”

“What… was this teenager not an accomplice of yours?” Rossi asked, confused by Winchester’s violent reaction.

“No he wasn’t a fucking accomplice. Goddammit Sammy.” He leaned forward, looking at the agents with a sudden urgency. “You need to get back to the river. You need to find them.”

“Is your brother going to kill them?” Rossi asked, keeping his voice level.

“What? No, no its not Sammy you need to- y’know what, forget it. You just need to get out there and find them.” When the agents didn’t move, he slammed his hands down again. “NOW!”

July 15th, 2008 - under the Caddo River

Reid stared at Sam, who was currently crouched on the other side of the cave, alternately screaming and talking softly to himself. After the terrifying warning that the devil was coming, Sam had seemed to forget that Reid was even there, pacing about the room and talking to people Reid couldn’t see, clearly experiencing a full-blown hallucination.

“No, no,” he was saying, “shut up, it’s not my fault.”

“Sam.” Reid tried again, voice weary. “Sam, whoever you think is there, they aren’t there. You’re safe.” Sam looked over at him, and Reid sat up.

“Sam?”

“Agent Reid,” Sam replied slowly, “Sorry, I…” he trailed off, looking at the cave around them as if expecting to see somewhere else, smiling wryly. “I have a touch of PTSD.” He finished. “Sorry.” Reid shook his head. Whatever that was, that wasn’t PTSD. It was interesting that Winchester had self-diagnosed himself with a different mental illness. He was clearly self-aware enough to acknowledge that how he saw the world wasn’t entirely real.

“No, its fine.” Sam stayed where he was, crouched over until his breathing settled. Reid didn’t know how much time passed before the tall man stood, walking back over to where Reid was leaning against the cave wall. He pulled out the knife again, and Reid had to fight his urge to flinch away.

“We need to get out of here.” Reid nodded. He hadn’t been willing to try swimming before, but at this point, enough time had passed that he doubted anyone on his team was going to find them. And he couldn’t stay in here with Winchester anymore. The next hallucination the man experienced might be much less kind to him.

“I can swim, but I think my leg is broken.” Sam frowned, looking down at Reid’s leg.

“May I?” He asked, crouching and meeting Reid’s eyes. Reid hesitated, but then nodded. Sam slowly raised the knife, slicing open the pant leg, watching Reid to make sure he didn’t move. He poked at the skin, Reid wincing as pain shot up his leg, air hissing out between his teeth. Sam glanced up at him in sympathy.

“Sorry. Definitely broken.” He glanced around the cave. “Nothing here to use as a splint.” Sam trailed off, visibly hesitating. He met Reid’s eyes, clearly unsure.

“Do you think you can manage to swim without a splint? I can tie it a bit to brace it, but...” Reid shrugged. He didn’t know if he could make it very far with his leg like it was, but he didn’t see another option.

“Okay.” Sam said, decisively. “I can help you if you can’t. But first, lets get your leg braced a bit.”

The skill with which Sam created the brace made Reid wonder about how many times the Winchester brothers had performed first aid on themselves, or each other. Sam had removed his outer shirt to create the brace, leaving him in just a tank top and revealing a multitude of scars covering his arms and chest. Reid could identify bite marks from what looked like a large dog, cuts, and a couple of wounds which he was fairly certain were from bullets. Years of abuse were clearly spelled out for Reid on Sam Winchester’s skin, leaving him to wonder what exactly had happened over the course of Sam’s life.

Sam had just finished tying the brace when they heard a splashing from the cave entrance again, and once again turned to see the teenage boy entering the room. Next to him, Sam froze, and both men watched as the boy made his approach with the same strange movements as before. As he drew closer, Reid saw he had a large rock clutched in his hand, and Reid was suddenly filled with dread. Next to him, he saw Sam shift slightly, and then the boy let out a horrible screech, and lunged towards them.

July 15th, 2008 - the banks of the Amity River

“Is there anywhere else to look?” Morgan asked the Sheriff as the search party loitered around the crime scene.

“I don’t know where else to look.” the woman admitted, looking around them. “We’ve combed up the river two miles either way. There’s no caves in this area they could be hiding in. To be honest, I think they’re long gone from the area. And its getting dark.”

“They just disappeared.” Morgan ground out in frustration. “From right in front of me. How is that possible.” The Sheriff opened her mouth to reply, but froze, eyes widening as she stared over Morgan’s shoulder in the direction of the river.

“What-” Morgan began, turning, but stopping as he caught sight of what had grabbed the sheriff’s attention.

Standing on the edge of the river was Sam Winchester, and standing next to him, leaning heavily on his shoulder, was Spencer Reid.

July 15th, 2008 - Amity Sheriff Station

The members of the BAU stood in a huddle in the conference room of the sheriff’s station, in the middle of a heated debate about what to do next.

“Winchester won’t talk anymore.”

“You can’t know that for sure Rossi.”

“I do. Even if I hadn’t seen the way he reacted in there, everything about his and Sam’s history shows that they are utterly dependent on each other. He won’t say anything else until we bring in his brother.”

“Okay, but we need to have a plan. The geological society didn’t have any recorded caves in proximity to the crime scene. Morgan and the rest of the search team has been out there for hours, and still hasn’t found any trace of them.” JJ countered.

“We can’t just leave Reid out there, in th-” Prentiss was interrupted by the shrill ring of Hotch’s phone.

“Hello?” The man answered, holding up a hand to the rest of his team, “What was that Morgan?” A beat of silence, and then “okay, you’ve got it.” There was a long period in which Hotch just listened to the other man talking, before he said his goodbyes and hung up, the rest of the team staring at him expectantly. He looked around at his people.

“They’ve found them.”

“Oh thank god.” JJ breathed out.

“What? Where?” Rossi asked.

“They found them by the river, just walked out of it, Winchester and Reid. Morgan’s taking Reid to the hospital, he has a broken leg. The Sheriff and her deputies are on their way back here with Winchester.”

“What the hell happened?” Prentiss demanded. Hotch sighed.

“We can get the full story from Reid later, but the gist seems to be that Winchester took Reid to some sort of underwater cave. The teenage boy that Morgan encountered was there as well, though he was vague about how exactly he was involved. Eventually Sam stabbed the boy to death and he and Reid swam out.”

“What the hell,” Rossi commented, and Hotch just shook his head.

July 16th, 2008 - Baptist Health Therapy Centre, Arkadelphia, Arkansas

Morgan could hear Reid complaining about being confined to his bed from down the hall, and smiled to himself as he approached the room. Clearly Reid wasn’t too traumatized by what had happened to him, if he was still able to complain loud and long about being treated like an invilad.

“Hotch, I can help you guys! Just let me get dressed and we can-”

“Reid.” The tone of Hotch’s voice as Morgan entered the room told him this wasn’t the first time Reid had attempted to make his point. “Enough. You’re injured, you went through a traumatic event, and you will stay in this hospital bed until your doctor says you can leave.” Morgan smiled, interrupting Hotch’s lecture.

“Hey buddy. How you doing?” Reid smiled at his friend.

“Hey Morgan. I’m fine, really.”

“Besides the broken leg.” Hotch commented dryly, and Reid shot him an annoyed glance.

“Besides that.”

“And the dehydration.”

“Okay,” Reid replied, “Maybe there’s a couple things wrong, physically. But I’m fine, honestly.”

“Alright,” Hotch said, halting the men’s good-natured argument, “Reid, why don’t you tell us what happened?” The smile faded from Reid’s face, and he frowned in concentration.

“Morgan and I went down to the river to follow up on the photo. But when we got there, we found Sam Winchester and an unknown teenager. They grabbed me, and the next thing I remember, I woke up in a cave with Winchester and a broken leg.” Morgan reached over and grabbed Reid’s shoulder. “He seemed fairly lucid, up until he experienced an extensive hallucination.”

“A hallucination?” Morgan interrupted, glancing at Hotch and raising his eyebrows. This would change the profile.

“Yeah,” Reid nodded, “he was seeing Lucifer.”

“The devil himself?” Morgan commented, raising an eyebrow. “Wow.” Reid hummed in agreement.

“The teenager reappeared at one point behaving utterly bizarrely, but Winchester scared him off with a knife. Then, after he snapped out of the hallucination, he started talking about how we had to kill the teenager. The next time the teenager showed up…” Reid broke off, shaking his head.

“He killed him?” Hotch finished, and Morgan squeezed Reid’s shoulder.

“He did,” Reid confirmed, frowning, “but I have to say, the boy, whoever he was, was behaving very strangely. And the second time he showed up, he was carrying this big rock and–” Reid paused, “I’m pretty sure he was going to kill us.”

“Who the hell is this teenager?” Questioned Morgan. “And how the hell does he fit in with the Winchesters.”

“I don’t know.” Reid replied helplessly. “None of it makes sense. Not Sam’s behaviour, not the boy’s…”

“Not Dean’s.” Hotch offered. Reid sat up abruptly.

“What? Dean?”

“Yes,” Hotch confirmed slowly, “We apprehended Dean just after your abduction.”

“Huh,” Reid replied. “And he wasn’t consistent with the profile either?” Hotchner shook his head.

“No, just the opposite. We started to wonder if he might actually be the submissive of the relationship.” Reid hummed, clearly thinking it over.

“We need to find out what was going on with that teenager.” He finally said. “That should help start to unravel this whole thing.”

“The Sheriff put together a team of divers to look for the cave and the body while you were getting bandaged up. Hopefully they’ll-” but Morgan was interrupted in his speculation by the shrill cry of Hotch’s cell phone. The other men paused while their leader answered his phone.

“Hotchner. Oh hello Sheriff- you did? That’s great. Yeah, I’ll talk to my team.” Reid and Morgan looked at Hotch expectantly as he closed his phone with a snap. “They’ve found the cave and the body of the teenager. If you’ll excuse me, I need to call JJ and Prentiss and get them to meet the body at the morgue for the autopsy.” With a nod, the man left the room.

“Where’s everyone else?” Reid asked, looking up at his friend.

“Rossi is with Sam, here. JJ and Prentiss were at the station trying to get Dean to talk, but it sounds like they’re going to be supervising the autopsy now.”

“Maybe that’ll give us some answers about the teenager and the murders.” Morgan gave the younger man a crooked smile.

“Maybe.”

July 16th, 2008 - Amity Morgue

JJ and Prentiss stood by the table as Dr. Wilkins began examining the body of the young man sitting on the gurney.

“This is quite strange,” he said, gripping the boy’s jaw and shining a light into his mouth, “come look at this.” JJ and Prentiss leaned over, noses wrinkling in distaste.

“Is that… have they been filed?” The ME poked at the sharp teeth filling the boy’s rotting mouth.

“Must have been. I can take casts, see if they match the bite marks on the entrails found by the river. Either way, this boy certainly looks like he hasn’t seen proper civilization for a while. His mouth is rotting, and his entire physique shows signs of malnourishment.”

“So could he be our killer?” Prentiss asked, voice skeptical, “If he’s as malnourished as all that, wouldn’t he be too weak? And how the hell did he manage to subdue two armed men?” The ME shrugged.

“I can’t say anything ‘bout the rest of that, but as for whether or not this fella was the one eating those kids, that I’ll know for sure until I have a cast.” Turning and rummaging through his cart, he shot the two agents a sunny smile. “Give me an hour.”

July 16th, 2008 - Amity Sheriff Station

JJ and Prentiss arrived back at the station, joining Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch in the conference room.

“Reid?” JJ asked.

“He’s fine,” Hotch assured her, “he’s resting at the hospital.”

“Not without a fight.” Morgan added with a smile. JJ and Prentiss chuckled before sobering.

“Sam?” Prentiss asked.

“He was cleared by the doctors.” Rossi answered, “he’s in holding with his brother. Dean seemd very relieved to see him.” Prentiss nodded.

“It’ll be good to get the chance to watch them interact with each other, it might help clear up the inconsistencies-”

“What did you get from the ME?” Hotch interrupted, before the team could get too distracted by speculation about the Winchesters.

“Well,” Prentiss spoke, laying out a series of photos on the table, “he’s still performing the autopsy. There seems to be some weird anatomical abnormalities going on, but he took casts of the boy’s teeth, and they are a match for the bite marks on the entrails found by the river.”

“Have the local police managed to identify him?” JJ asked. Morgan shook his head.

“Sheriff Bridges is still looking, but there’s been no hits locally as of yet.”

“So this kid is our killer.” Rossi stated. “The teeth match.”

“And the Winchester’s weren’t in town when the murders started.” Hotch added. “Reid said that Sam told him that they just got into town around the same time as we did. And Garcia called - she found an incident in North Dakota that points to the Winchesters being there around the time Sawyer disappeared.”

“They’re still killers,” Prentiss commented.

“Yes,” Morgan agreed, “but it looks like they didn’t kill these kids.”

“So what now Hotch?” JJ asked.

“We’re going to focus on this case for now. Once we’ve got this case squared away, we’ll transfer the Winchesters back to DC with us. We can then create a profile and compile evidence on the brothers. Prentiss, did the ME give you an estimate for when he’d finish his report?”

“Not until tomorrow. He said he was going to have to send some samples off-site for testing.” Hotch nodded.

“Okay. In the meantime, if you want to go visit Reid in the hospital while we wait for the complete ME’s report and CSI, you are welcome to head over. We’ll meet back here tomorrow morning at 0700 hours.” JJ nodded, grabbing the keys to one of the SUVs.

“I’m headed over to the hospital then.”

“I’ll join you.” Rossi added, Prentiss following them as well. Hotch looked at Morgan, who shook his head.

“I’m going to stay here, start compiling the evidence we’ve gathered so far.” Hotch nodded.

“I’ll join you.”

July 17th, 2008 - Paradise Inn

Hotch jerked awake to the shrill sound of the room’s phone cutting through the still night air. “Hotchner” he mumbled, scrubbing at his eyes. “Wait, what?” He sat up, instantly wide awake. “How is that possible? Okay. We’re on our way.” He hung up and looked around his room, stunned.

The Winchesters were gone.

July 17th, 2008 - somewhere in Texas

The Impala growled as Dean pressed down on the accelerator, putting as much distance between them and the BAU as he could.

“We are so fucked Sammy.” Sam snorted.

“Again.” He lolled his head against the seat to look at his brother. “Why does this keep happening to us?” Dean laughed.

“Because we were born cursed Sammy.”

“Stop calling me Sammy.”

“Whatever bitch.”

“Jerk.”