Disclaimer: For the last time, I do not own Criminal Minds or Supernatural

A/N: *sniff* It's over. Although, I am planning the next story in the Huntress series. It's tentatively titled Murder Five-Oh, and despite the cheesy title it is NOT a crossover with Hawaii Five-Oh. It's more that the title was rediculously cheesy but it's stuck in my head.

Derek glanced up as the door to Hotch's office open and Anna walked out. Her smile wasn't as cocky as it had appeared on her way in, but it was still there. Whatever Hotch has said to her about going out to eat with her brothers instead of waiting at the hospital or going back to the station clearly hadn't bent her spirit much. "Anna," Reid said as she came down the stairs, "That can't be your report, can it?"

Anna's smile became a wicked grin, "You mean this?" She tapped the thick stack of papers in the middle of her newly assigned desk.

"Well, yes," Reid replied.

"Of course it is," Anna replied, "I included some information about Lihannon and the ritual in there that I felt would be vital for anyone who found themselves dealing with it somewhere else. Why?"

"It's long," Reid said.

"Well," Anna tilted her head as she leaned against her desk, "I wanted to be thorough. I may not always be available to take a case like this and the knowledge is important. 'No learning, no knowledge is ever wasted.'"

"Whisky for my men, beer for my horses," Anna's phone blared.

"Agent Anna Campbell," Anna said brightly. Her smile turned wicked, "Well bless my soul, Andy McCrae what a thing to call a lady!" Derek couldn't help raising his eyes at Anna's suddenly Southern accent. "I swear, Andy, I didn't plan that." Anna said, she shifted off her desk and headed for the door to the BAU. "Look sugar," Anna continued, "I told you this the last time. I make my own life." She shoved the door open, "It's been almost ten damn years McCrae," her accent slipped even as the door shut behind her.

"Andy McCrae," Reid said, in his 'I remember him' tone.

"What about him?" Derek asked.

"I know an Andrew McCrae," Reid said, "with the U.S. Marshalls."

"Yeah," Derek said.

"He works in WitSec," Reid replied, "we worked with them last year, right before he transferred. We play chess online sometimes."

"I remember him," Derek said, surprising himself, "Good man, good marshal to."

Anna came back in the door looking irritated, "Sorry about that," she told them, fiddling with her phone, "Crazy ex-boyfriend, saw something on-line about Lansing and freaked. I wish he would just lose my number. I've blocked his number before, but he just gets a new phone."

"Have you talked to the police?" Reid asked.

Anna shrugged, "He's harmless, Reid."

"Someone like that," Derek began.

"Harmless," Anna interrupted him, "in this case means, he's a paraplegic with the internet and too much time on his hands."

"On that note," Derek said, sensing that he really shouldn't push the younger agent right then, "there's someone I think you should meet." He stood, "Come with me, Anna."

"Ok," Anna said. She grinned at Reid, "If you want to read my report, you can. Let me know what you think of it, hey?"

"Sure," Reid said, "I'd be happy to."

"Thank you," Anna said, and squeezed Reid's shoulder lightly as she bounced after Derek.

Derek took her down to Garcia's office where the tech analyst was doing something with her computers. He thought he saw Anna's picture when he pushed open the door, but the oh so familiar blue screens and black boxes were in place by the time the door opened up all the way. "Anna Campbell, I want you to meet Penelope Garcia, our tech analyst and computer genius." Garcia smiled at them, "Garcia, this is Anna Campbell, our occult specialist."

"Ms. Garcia," Anna said, offering her hand.

"It's just Garcia," Garcia replied as she shook it.

"Oh, well, call me Anna," Anna said, she eyed the computers, "So you really know a lot about computers then."

"Yes I do," Garcia said, she tilted her head slightly, "are you a computer fan?"

"Not really," Anna replied, "I'm more of the knife and gun sort. My brother Sam, though, he's all about computers." She reached into her jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, "Agent Morgan, I mean, Derek says you're the research person around here."

"Among other things," Garcia replied.

"Well, thing is, I can't always count on my contacts to come up with information," Anna said, "and there's a group in Europe dedicated to scanning every occult book they get their hands on. I thought, I have an account with the Europeans and maybe, I could pass my log-in to you if I need help."

"I'm not sure what I can do," Garcia said.

"I was just thinking that someone as fast as Reid and the others say you are, you could sort the databases faster than I can," Anna said with a quirky grin, "You think I pulled the ritual out of my ass?" She offered up the piece of paper, "This is the site, and my log-on." As Garcia reached for it, she pulled it back, "You can't just hack the site either. You hack and they'll pull it faster than you can say a Hail Mary and there are people who depend on these sites. A lot of them are dirt poor or worse, so this is the only way they can study this. Not to mention that if you run a hack using my log on, then I'll get kicked off site and my paid account is part of what pays their bills."

"I won't," Garcia said.

"I'm trusting you," Anna said and put the paper in her hand; "Although, if you happen to take a look at the security and want to suggest upgrades, I can put in touch with their security programmer."

Garcia gripped the paper, "I won't betray your trust," she said quietly.

Her phone rang, startling all of them. Garcia hit speaker, "Penelope Garcia," she said.

"Garcia, is Campbell down there?" Hotchner asked.

"Yes sir, she is," Garcia replied.

"Campbell, your tow truck is here." Hotchner said.

Campbell grinned, "If you two will excuse me." She turned and all but ran from the room.

"She really likes her truck," Derek said as Garcia hung up the phone.

"Derek," Garcia said.

"Yes, Baby Girl?" Derek asked.

"I ran that background check," Garcia said, "and I couldn't find anything."

"What do you mean?" Derek said.

"I mean, there's nothing. There is no record of Anna Campbell anywhere," Garcia replied, her features tight with fear and worry. Her phone rang again, "Penelope Garcia," Garcia said.

The voice was computer generated and barely sounded human, and Derek would not be ashamed to admit that it sent chills down his spine.

"You are looking into the background of Anna Campbell. I suggest you stop, you aren't going to like what you'll find if you continue down this road."

No wound received in the field,
Can compare to the pain,
Of losing a child