Chapter Six: Operation Rescue

Gritting his teeth against the agony in his arm, Reid squinted in the darkness, trying to hear if Sam was still breathing.

"Sam," He whispered and listened intently for a response.

Reid relaxed, although the young man did not answer him, the agent could hear his breathing clearly enough.

"Stupid son of a bitch," Reid swore; something he rarely did, but felt his heart swell in his chest for the other captive.

After the man had broken Reid's arm Sam had called out to him, trying to protect the agent:

"Stop it! Stop it!" Sam had said as loudly as he could and stared straight at their captor.

The man turned from Reid and took a few steps toward Sam.

"No, Sam! Don't!" Reid had tried to stop the other captive but his voice petered out when he saw the look on his face.

"Yeah, dumbass, I'm talking to you," Sam continued, "Are you really that stupid or do you just look it?"

That had caused an angry growl from the man and all Reid could do was watch as he advanced on Sam.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Sam asked the man and their captor swung the crowbar.

Reid cringed as the metal bar connected with Sam's ribs and he cried out.

Panting, Sam continued to spew insults, "Is that all you've got, you pussy? My grandmother hits harder than you!"

Reid knew that Sam was taking the man's attention off of him, he knew that Sam was protecting him, but he still felt sick to his stomach as he watched the beating.

Blow after blow rained down on Sam's ribs, arms, shoulders- anywhere that was exposed until one well-placed hit to the head sent Sam into unconsciousness.

"Sam!" Reid had cried out, afraid that the younger man was dead.

The man tossed the crowbar to the floor. Reid's stomach lurched when he saw blood shining wetly on the metal.

The man had looked over his shoulder at the young doctor and then left. Just like that. He turned off the light and left them in the darkness.

Now Reid was determined to keep Sam Winchester alive. He strained his hearing to make sure he could still hear him breathe and prayed that they would be found soon. He doubted Sam had much longer to live.

Reid froze when he heard Sam groan.

"Sam," The agent whispered, "Sam, stay with me."

"Ah… Adam?" Sam's voice cracked and Reid was unsure if he was awake or not.

"Spencer," He corrected, "I'm Spencer, remember?"

"Spencer?" Sam's voice sounded a little stronger.

"Yeah, that's right. Listen, don't try to move, you might have broken bones and internal bleeding," Reid instructed. Oh God, if Sam had internal bleeding than there would be nothing they could do for him if they weren't found immediately.

"S'okay…'m okay," Sam mumbled, his slurred speech telling Reid he was quickly losing consciousness again, "S'okay…"

"Sam?" Reid tried again but received no response. He had no idea who the younger man was speaking to; all he knew was that the Winchester did not have much longer. All Reid could do was wait and pray that help came for them soon.


Dean couldn't wait anymore. He couldn't wait for some lard-ass judge to decide whether or not the team from Quantico could arrest Sam's kidnapper.

The agents stared at him as Dean made his way to the door of the impromptu command center. Agent Hotchner got to Dean first, trying to tower in an authoritarian way over the younger man, "Where are you going?"

Dean wasn't dissuaded by the FBI agent, "To save my brother."

"If you go to Cunningham's house you will be charged with obstruction of justice," Hotchner threatened.

Dean shrugged one shoulder, "Than I'll make a citizen's arrest."

The older man stepped to the middle of the doorway so Dean's exit was blocked.

"Look, I appreciate that you believe that I'm not some murdering maniac but I'd also like it if you got out of my way," Dean said in a dangerous voice. He was no longer in the mood to play games with the Unit Chief.

Apparently Agent Hotchner wasn't one to be intimidated. He did not move, staring Dean down, trying to keep him under control.

Dean's eyes narrowed. He didn't want to use force, that would just give the Agent more of an excuse to arrest him, but nothing was going to keep him away from Sam.

"I understand that you are frustrated and scared, we all are, and as much as we'd like to go out right now, we are required to follow the rules," Hotchner tried to use the diplomatic approach.

"Maybe you need to follow the rules," Dean growled, "But I am not a Federal agent."

The Unit Chief, seeming to realize that he was getting nowhere with the younger man, sighed, admiring Dean's tenacity and recalling his actions that were less than orthodox when Haley and Jack had been in danger from George Foyet, nodded his head slowly.

Dean sucked in a surprised breath when he saw the look in the agent's eyes.

"I'll go with him, Hotch," Morgan spoke up from just over Dean's left shoulder and the hunter turned to the FBI agent.

"I'm going to trust you," Hotchner said to Dean, "Don't make me regret it."

"No, sir," Dean said in all seriousness.

The Unit Chief and the remaining members watched the duo leave the police station without saying a word to one another. Aaron Hotchner hoped he hadn't made a mistake.


Prentiss smiled sadly as she watched Dean Winchester exit the building with Derek. She found herself thinking more and more about the mysterious man since she had first met him only the day before.

She had to admit that the hunter was quite attractive. She often found her gaze on him when she should have been paying attention elsewhere. She was intrigued and heartened by the man's devoutness to his brother.

Maybe there is hope for the human race after all, Emily thought with wry humour.

Ever since they'd found out about Cunningham and his brother the team had been on pins and needles waiting for the go-ahead and now that it was within their grasp, Emily was a bundle of nerves. She wanted to save Reid, of course she did- he was a member of her family just as every other member of the team was- but she was afraid of what they would find at this Theodore Cunningham's house.

She just wished that JJ would hurry up with the warrant so they could catch up to Dean and Morgan.


Dean was on the edge of his seat as the black SUV bounced along the pot-hole filled road toward Cunningham's house.

Agent Morgan had provided Dean with a gun- a government issued Glock- and also a Kevlar vest.

Dean had to smile at the navy blue vest with white letters spelling out 'FBI' on the back.

"Aw, now I'm really starting to feel like one of the guys," Dean had smiled at the other man.

Morgan grinned tightly back, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

Dean peered out the window and stared at the wooded areas along either side of the road, punctuated every so often by a dilapidated house.

"I thought for sure your Unit Chief was gonna put me in a sleeper hold or something," Dean said conversationally, trying to calm his nerves.

Morgan chuckled, "He's pretty old school but he's saved a lot of people."

Dean nodded, "I'm sure he has but, Sam's my little brother, you know? I have to be there for him."

Morgan had his cell phone ready for a call from Hotchner in case they got the warrant soon. If that call didn't come before they arrived at Cunningham's, well, he'd just have to make sure Dean didn't do anything too illegal.

"We'll be there in five minutes," Morgan told the hunter.

Dean took a deep breath, rubbed his hands over his face and then through his short hair, wondering what he was going to find at Cunningham's house.

The SUV pulled onto the wide lawn of Theodore Cunningham's home. Dean jumped from the vehicle, ready for anything.

Gaze traveling to the house, Dean saw that it looked empty, there were no lights on but the large white van in the driveway told a different story.

"You ready?" Morgan asked Dean and he nodded.

Stealthily, the two ran to the front door of the house, Morgan taking the lead as he pounded on the weathered wood.

"Theodore Cunningham! This is the FBI; we have a warrant for your arrest!" Morgan shouted.

"You know he's not going to open the door for you," Dean suggested over the agent's shoulder.

He shrugged when Morgan turned around and raised an eyebrow at him.

Morgan lifted his foot and kicked the door handle- breaking it- and he reached in and unlocked the door. The Agent took his gun out; Dean followed suit.

"Theodore Cunningham! Come out with your hands in the air!" Morgan shouted.

As soon as Dean was inside he peeled away from the profiler. He had to find this bastard and he was sorry to say that the agent was taking too damn long for his liking.

"Dean!" He heard Morgan hiss at him as he quickly made his way upstairs.


Derek swore under his breath as Dean left him alone. Maybe Hotchner should have left Winchester handcuffed to a chair in the police station after all. Not that Morgan blamed the other man; it was taking all his willpower not to tear the house apart to find Reid. The young doctor was like the kid brother Morgan had never had and like blood kin, the FBI agent would do anything to save his family.

After a moment's hesitation, Morgan leaped up the stairs after Dean, taking two at a time, his gun held at the ready in case he was caught off guard by Cunningham.


Dean peered into each upstairs room as he passed it, his heart pounding in anticipation, only to find the second floor deserted.

"Son of a bitch!" He swore and whipped around at the sound of footsteps.

Agent Morgan stood at the top of the stairs, eyebrows raised over his dark sunglasses.

"He's not up here," Dean told the Fed.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Morgan shared Dean's anxiety and both men started when they heard the unmistakable sound of an engine roaring to life.

Dean peered out the closest window and panicked when he saw that white van that had been parked in the driveway was backing up, away from the house.

"He's getting away!" He barreled past Morgan and down the stairs at a reckless speed.

No, no, no! Dean couldn't let the fucker get away. He ripped open the front door and stood on the porch, aiming his gun at the van's tires.

Dean's heart leaped into his throat when one of the van's back wheels blew out but the vehicle continued to move, picking up speed if anything else.

Screw this, Dean thought and slipped his borrowed gun into its holster, jumping from the porch and running toward the escaping suspect, intent on pulling the dirt bag from the van with his bare hands.

Cunningham gunned the engine and the van sped up, spraying dust and gravel at Dean as he hurried to catch up.

"Dean!" He heard his name shouted and flinched when a gunshot went off. Morgan must be trying to disable the van as well.

The hunter let out a snarl as the van swerved, both of its rear tires now quickly losing air, and bumped over the driveway and onto the grassy lawn.

Got you now, Dean thought as the vehicle came to a stop. His legs went weak with relief. At least they had that son of a bitch- he'd know where Sam was.

The hunter looked up as Morgan marched to the driver's side door and pointed his gun at the van's occupant.

"Theodore Cunningham, this is the FBI, you are under arrest for murder and suspected kidnapping," the agent rattled off those words like he'd said them a million times before.

Dean stood beside Morgan, gun likewise at the ready as he stared at his brother's captor. He appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties with graying hair, a clean-shaven face and blue eyes that crinkled as he grinned. Dean noticed that the man had purplish bruising around his eyes and his nose appeared as if it had been broken recently.

Dean sneered and wondered if the injury had been Sam's work.

Knew you wouldn't go down without a fight, Sammy; Dean congratulated silently.

"Get out of the vehicle right now with your hands where we can see them," Morgan instructed, ice in his voice.

Slowly, still smiling like this was all some big joke; Cunningham opened his door and slipped out. He held his hands in front of him as though ready to block any oncoming bullets with his palms. He was only a few inches taller than Dean, but much wider, and the hunter could see how he would be strong enough to subdue a grown man.

"Put your hands behind your head," Morgan said and pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt.

Dean gritted his teeth. He wanted to ask this bastard where he brother was now.

As if reading the hunter's thoughts, Morgan spoke up while securing the handcuffs around Cunningham's meaty wrists, "Hotch radioed me while you were shooting out the tires; they got a warrant and the team will be hear in minutes."

With one hand firmly gripping Cunningham's bicep, Morgan led the older man back toward the house and instructed him to sit on the porch steps.

Both hunter and FBI agent stood over their suspect. Dean moved anxiously from foot to foot, gun trained on the smiling son of a bitch while Morgan's shaded eyes sought out the Bureau's black SUV's his team drove.


"Keep an eye on him," Morgan told Dean as two black SUV's and a three Brentwood police cruisers pulled onto Cunningham's property.

Dean stared down at the older man in contempt. Here was a man who tortured and starved innocent people to death to satisfy his own sick delusions. Dean's lip curled in disgust. He could never understand why people would do such horrible things to one another when they had enough demons and monsters to do perform those same acts for them.

No wonder the angels hate us, Dean thought to himself and nodded as the Unit Chief approached.

"Where are Sam and Reid? Where are they, Theodore?" Hotchner asked, slowly and clearly.

The smile dropped from the man's face. Dean bit his lip, causing a drop of blood to slide down his chin but didn't speak.

"You don't know what you're doing! You don't know! They're monsters- they deserve to die! I'm saving people!" Cunningham cried out.

Dean barely noticed when the rest of the BAU team appeared, all eyes pinned to Cunningham. Dean put his weapon away, knowing that Cunningham had no chance of escaping now.

"Where are Sam and Reid?" Hotchner repeated.

"I'm keeping those creatures from hurting anymore people, you don't understand. They're monsters! They deserve to be punished!"

Dean couldn't take it anymore, before he knew what he was doing, he lunged forward and punched Cunningham square in the jaw. The force of the blow caused the man to list to his side, unable to right himself do to his restrained hands. Morgan grabbed Cunningham's arm and shoved him into a seated position.

"My brother is not a monster, you son of a bitch!" he snarled.

Dean felt hands grabbing him, pulling him back.

"Take it easy, son," Rossi whispered in his ear and Dean shrugged off the veteran agent.

"Theodore, where are Sam and Reid," Hotchner asked, "It will be better for you if you cooperate with us."

Dean watched Cunningham grin through bloodied teeth but he saw the man's eyes move to gaze at the large corrugated steel shed beside the house.

Shit, Dean thought and peeled away from the team, heading across the lawn

"Dean!" He didn't stop when Prentiss called his name.

He heard footsteps pounding after him as he rushed toward the shed.

"Goddamn it," Dean growled as he struggled to open the garage door, "It's locked!"

"Here," Morgan's hands came into view, a pair of bolt cutters made short work of the padlock on the door's handle With a grating sound, the door slid open.

Dean stumbled inside the shed, squinting in the darkness.

"Sammy!" He cried out.

"Reid!" Morgan stepped up beside Dean.

"Morgan?" A thin voice called out but Dean's heart sank, it wasn't Sam.

A flashlight beam came on and Dean peered around- his gaze landing on the unmoving body of his brother.

"Sam, Sammy," Dean gasped and moved forward when Morgan found a light switch, "Oh God."

He stepped toward his brother on legs that felt like lead, "No, oh no. Sammy, no."

Dean got down on his knees in front of his brother, "Hey, Sammy, can you hear me?"

His brother's chin was on his chest and he was leaning against the chains binding him.

"Sammy," Dean plied, "Come on man, wake up."

Looking over his shoulder, Dean caught sight of Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss surrounding Spencer Reid.

Dean reached out and put both hands on either side of his brother's face.

"Sammy, hey," Dean whispered, "Can you open your eyes for me, buddy."

Dean shook his brother's head a little, "C'mon, Sammy, open your eyes now!"

"Dean," He looked up at the sound of his name and saw Morgan standing behind him, holding the bolt cutters.

"For the chains," Morgan said and Dean nodded, looking across the room saw Reid had been freed from his and was answering questions from his team.

With shaking hands, Dean took up the cutters from the agent, "I'm gonna get you out of here, Sammy. Just stay still."

Carefully, Dean snapped the chains holding his brother and Morgan caught Sam before he could fall forward.

"Thanks," Dean muttered as the agent gently lowered Sam to the floor.

"Hotch called the paramedics while they were en route; they should be here within minutes," Morgan said.

"Where's Cunningham?" Dean didn't want that asshole anywhere near his brother again.

"Cooling off in a cruiser," Morgan told him.

Dean's attention was caught when he heard his Sam moan.

"Sammy? Sam, you awake?" Dean asked, leaning closer to his brother.

He was greeted with the sight of two green eyes opening. Sam's gaze was unfocused and glazed.

"D'n?" Sam rasped and lifted a hand.

Dean grabbed his brother's fingers and squeezed, "I'm right here, Sammy."

Sam's eyes slipped close, "Is he safe?"

"Yeah, Sammy, Reid's fine," Dean whispered, "You did good."

There was a commotion as a half-dozen paramedics came on the scene. Dean watched as they split up- three going to Reid, three coming toward him and Sam- and couldn't help but crouch over his vulnerable brother, instinctually protective.

"Sir, we need to assess him," a female medic said gently. Dean noticed she had short-cropped black hair and honey-coloured eyes.

"Sam. His name is Sam," Dean interjected. The medic's amber eyes softened, "Sam."

She crouched down, "Sam, can you hear me?"

Dean was aware of the other two paramedics talking among themselves. He heard them speak about dehydration, internal trauma, fractured bones.

"Sweetheart, open your eyes if you can hear me," the medic said.

"He opened them earlier," Dean muttered, hoping that would help. He had little practice with Emergency Medical Responders; he was more familiar with hospitals and doctors.

"Did he speak at all?" the amber-eyed paramedic asked.

"Yeah, he uh said my name," Dean replied and peered down nervously at his brother.

Dean was reminded of the Leviathan attack in Bobby's salvage yard; Sam had been injured badly that time too. Dean hadn't been sure he was going to pull through, just like now.

"C'mon Sammy, c'mon man," Dean urged, "Open your eyes for the paramedics, eh? Show them those big, green puppy-dog eyes of yours."

The female paramedic glanced up at Dean and smiled.

"You can ride with him in the ambulance if you want," she offered.

"I don't think Sammy's giving me much of a choice," Dean smiled; his brother's fingers were still intertwined with his. He hadn't let go of Dean's hand even as he slipped away from consciousness.

Dean worked with the paramedics as they maneuvered his brother onto a stretcher. Dean had tried to pry Sam's fingers from his hand but a whimper and a tightened grip put a stop to any further disturbance on Dean's part.

The walk from the garage to the ambulance seemed to take forever. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Dean. The local Brentwood cops stood clustered in a small group, talking among themselves and casting glances at the FBI team.

Dean's expression hardened when he caught sight of Cunningham sitting in a cruiser.

A punch in the teeth wasn't enough, Dean decided; I should have put a bullet between his eyes.

Dean shook his head slightly; he had bigger fish to fry than Theodore Cunningham.

Getting into the ambulance and settling down, Dean let the paramedics do whatever they needed to do- insert an IV line into his brother's arm, cut open Sam's shirt to assess the damage- barely giving a thought to the BAU team in other ambulance, worrying over their own injured family member.

Dean didn't care as long as he had Sammy back; as long as his brother was with him, Dean knew everything would be alright.


A cup of coffee was growing cold on the windowsill as Dean waited for his brother to wake up.

He had been sitting beside his brother all night, watching the rise and fall of Sam's chest, and just wishing they could get the heck out of Brentwood.

Dean sat back in the uncomfortable visitors' chair and rubbed a hand over his face. Sam had been in critical condition but the doctors had assured Dean he would make a full recovery.

Sam had been severely dehydrated and was suffering blood loss from numerous wounds. He had a few broken ribs and a concussion. The doctors had said it was a miracle there hadn't been any internal bleeding.

Dean had to agree with the docs; it really was a miracle because the Winchesters were never that lucky.

A presence in the doorway caused Dean to tense suspiciously until he saw it was only Dr. Reid.

The young man was wearing a pair of jeans, his red sneakers, and a black and white striped sweater vest over a white dress shirt. His hair looked like a rat's nest and he had dark circles under his eyes. His broken arm was held in a sling, lying across his chest.

"I thought Sam would be awake," Reid explained his reason for coming into the room.

"No, not yet," Dean sighed and his hazel eyes fixed once more on his brother's sleeping form, "But the doctors said it wasn't anything to worry about."

Dean's gaze roved over the IV drip that was giving Sam much needed antibiotics and keeping him hydrated. He saw how sunken his brother's eyes were, how cracked his lips had gotten after only three days and knew that if they had waited any longer, Sam wouldn't have made it.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked without looking at Reid.

"Just a broken arm," Reid told him.

The two men fell into silence for a few minutes before Reid spoke again, startling Dean.

"I wanted to thank him," The younger man said and Dean turned his attention to him.

"Huh?" He asked tiredly. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, worrying over Sam's prognosis.

"Cunningham came after me," Reid said, "He hit me with a crowbar but before he could do anything else Sam distracted him. He took Cunningham's attention away from me and put himself in danger."

Dean's heart squeezed in his chest. Yeah, that sounded just like Sammy. Kid couldn't bear to see anyone else get hurt and Dean wasn't at all surprised Sam had taken the beating meant for Reid.

"Does the name Adam mean anything to you?" Reid asked and Dean stiffened.

Dean gritted his teeth together and he heard Reid take a step back.

Dean's shoulders slumped, "Yeah, Adam was our younger brother. He's been dead for over two years now."

Dead was putting it lightly, Dean thought, more like he was trapped in a fucking lockbox with the Devil and the archangel Michael.

"Oh," Reid said softly.

"What… what did Sammy say?" Dean asked.

"He just said Adam's name… I didn't know why," Reid shrugged.

"Did he say anything else?" Dean pressed. He wanted to know if his brother had said something about Hell or his time in the Cage in front of the agent.

Reid shook his head, "No."

"Okay," Dean sighed and reached out to take his brother's hand.

"If I'm prying, let me know, but I was wondering why Sam said your brother's name and not yours?" Reid asked, "It's obvious you two are close-"

Dean glared at the agent, "That's none of your business."

Dean could only imagine why Sam had called Reid by their younger half-brother's name but he wasn't going to explain such a thing to the agent.

"I'll let Sam know you stopped by when he wakes up," Dean said and was grateful that the young doctor got the message because he stepped out of the room quietly.

Dean gave his brother's hand a squeeze. Sometimes Dean forgot Sam wasn't the only one who'd taken a nosedive into Lucifer's Cage. He had never asked his brother about Adam but he was sure that Sam would have protected the younger man- he was innocent after all, his only crime was saying 'yes' to Michael- and Sam's desire to protect the innocent would drive him to make sure Adam was safe, even if it meant coming to harm himself for doing so.

Dean's eyes filled with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," He whispered, "I'm so damn sorry for everything."

"D'n?" Sam's voice caused Dean to gasp and quickly wipe his face clear of tears.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean smiled, "Glad to see you're awake, thought you were going to sleep forever."

"What're you sorry for?" Sam asked and Dean cringed, he'd been hoping his brother hadn't heard.

"For letting you walk out and get kidnapped," Dean lied- he was sorry about that as well, but that wasn't what he'd been getting all emotional about- and brushed some stray strands of hair from his brother's brow.

"We have got to get you a haircut, Sammy," Dean said, "Soon you'll be able to braid it!"

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Sorry I was angry at you in the first place," Sam's eyes grew round, the green irises as light as jade, "We have to stop the Leviathans."

"Sammy don't-" Dean began but Sam just grinned up at him and spoke again.

"I'm the one who's supposed to be OCD," He said, much to Dean's amusement, "You're supposed to be the Narcissistic one."

Dean laughed out loud, feeling a little better.

"Okay, okay," Dean said, "Hey, maybe we should change your name to Howard Hughes."

That comment earned Dean another eye roll.

Dean saw that his brother's eyes were slipping closed again but his brother still managed to get the last word in.

"What are we going to do now?"

Dean gave a shit-eating grin, "Now? Now we hunt for Moby, Ishmael."

"What?" Sam asked and his brow furrowed in confusion.

Dean chuckled, "Geez Sam, don't you ever read?"


"Are you sure, Reid?" Garcia asked the young doctor for the hundredth time.

He couldn't help but smile, just a little.

"Yes, but they aren't what you think," Reid assured the technical analyst.

Garcia pushed her red-rimmed, ruby-studded glasses further up her nose, "I read their files after Derek told me the team was working with one of them and… I don't know Reid, the things they've done…"

"I know what their files say but you weren't there, Penelope," Reid insisted, "You didn't see them, hear them."

"You really think someone framed them for all those awful crimes?" Garcia blinked her brown eyes, magnified by the spectacles.

Reid nodded and shifted in his seat. His arm was still healing even though they'd been back at Quantico for weeks and ever since the team's return Garcia had been pressing every member for information.

Hotchner had kept the Winchesters' involvement in the case a secret, spinning a fairly believable lie to placate Erin Strauss, and had cautioned the team to keep up a pretense of ignorance.

Garcia's office door was closed tightly as she wheedled a reluctant Reid into talking to her. Reid didn't want to be overheard, he would be eternally grateful to Sam and his brother for what they had done and it didn't seem like a very good idea to be gossiping about them.

"They are not the monsters everyone is led to believe they are," Reid said and sighed, running a hand through his longish hair and then scratching the arm still in its sling.

Garcia's expression turned sympathetic, "They helped you, I get it and I'm happy they did but, really? What if it was just for show? What if it was just a way for them to get away again? Like all their fake deaths?"

Reid shook his head. Garcia wouldn't understand unless she met the two brothers. Which was not about to happen any time soon.

"I'm sorry, Garcia, but that's just what I believe and you won't change my decision," Reid finished and stood, "I have some paperwork to fill out."

Garcia smiled, embarrassed; Reid was the smartest person she knew and had never steered her wrong before, so why did he believe so fervently in the Winchesters' innocence?

"Oh, will you ask Emily if we're still on for Saturday night?" Garcia piped up before the young doctor was halfway across the room.

"Sure," Reid replied and opened Garcia's door.

He stepped outside and nearly ran into Special Agent Valente.

"Sorry," Reid muttered an apology. He didn't know the agent all that well, he worked with another team, but Reid had seen him around Quantico.

"Nothing to worry about," Valente assured him, "It's my fault, really."

Reid shrugged and saw Morgan watching him from his desk down in the bullpen.

"Excuse me," the young doctor sidled past the Agent and headed down the stairs.

"What'd Valente want, Kid?" Morgan asked Reid as soon as he came within earshot of the younger agent.

"Dunno," Reid sat down and pulled out a form he had to fill out, "And stop calling me kid. I'm not young enough to be put into that category anymore."

Morgan chuckled and returned to his own paperwork.

"That guy gives me the creeps," JJ commented, her eyes following Valente as he strolled past Garcia's office and down the walkway to the other side of the bullpen.

Emily turned her attention to Reid, her voice low and secretive, "Was Garcia needling you about the Winchesters in there?"

Reid nodded and sighed, ran a hand over his face. He hadn't been sleeping all that well since returning to Virginia- nightmares of Tobias Hankel and Theodore Cunningham haunted him- and he was really starting to feel those restless nights catch up with him.

Emily shook her head, brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear, "JJ and I can talk to her on Saturday."

The team members in the bullpen all looked up when they saw Agent Hotchner strolling down the catwalk toward them, a severe look on his face.

"We have another case," He said, "A triple homicide in Rhode Island."

"Why are we called in for a homicide like that, is there something different about the unsub?" Emily ventured.

"This one's a real monster," Hotchner answered seriously and turned on his heel toward the briefing room.

I find hope in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe – Dalai Lama

1. Chapter title comes from a Bad Religion song of the same name.

2. Thanks to Basia Orci, Fox Loves Shinigami, Toumies, simys, winka, book reader-lover of 3000, sammynanci, Historychick1835, BranchSuper, irishgirl19, SPN Mum, d767468, AmeliaReddy, Mady121 and the Queen of Confusion for Reviewing.

3. Thanks to everyone who alerted or favourited.

4. I kind of set this up for a sequel at the end. I wasn't going to write it like that originally but I was reading a fanfic by lordtrayus who featured the Leviathan Agent Valente in a couple of fanfis and I decided that since our favourite BAU team are Feds and that the big mouths have infiltrated the FBI in Supernatural that I'd add a little bit more to Here There Be Monsters. To tell the truth it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment idea but one that I think will work out well. Just give me some time to think of a sequel and I won't disappoint!

5. Please send me your final thoughts!