Title: Der Ritter
Summary: There comes a time when you must either believe in something or die in denial. Slender Man fic for Halloween 2012.
Timeline: Somewhere in mid-Season 7.
Notes: I meant to finish this sooner so that I could have both parts up by Halloween, but Real Life got in the way. And if American Horror Story can run after Halloween, then so can I. I can also plausibly drive you anywhere in the Quantico area and be an excellent chauffeur because of how much I Google-mapped that place, so any inaccuracies are the product of my never having actually visited and are my own. I can claim creative license on them, or you can just blame Slender Man.

Der Ritter
Act One

"You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you."
- C. S. Lewis

It's nearing full dark, and the black night is made blacker by the unnatural fog that swirls along the road's edges, a menacing presence waiting to swallow the SUV up and drag it into the wilderness on either side of the road. Or maybe it's just the case getting to SSA Aaron Hotchner. He's certainly not feeling well, though it doesn't show; there's an odd feeling in his stomach, and it's setting him on edge, but it doesn't translate to his face very well. He gazes straight ahead, his mouth set in a thin line, as he drives ten miles below the speed limit just in case a passing deer happens along.

It's a cold comfort that the case is so close to Quantico - one attack in McLean, one near Bristow, and they don't have to fly. Quantico serves as their base instead of a hotel, but it brings no relief; it's evident in the way Prentiss slumps against the passenger door, deep in thought, and Reid slumps in the backseat, still wide awake. It's probably evident in Aaron's stomach, too, though this feeling has been going on for several days, now; he's considering a trip to his doctor.

The nature of the case is disturbing - two families attacked, with the children disappeared and their parents brutally murdered; several vital organs violently ripped out and then replaced inside the bodies in plastic bags. It's a distinct signature, but that's all that's distinct about this case. No traces, no hints, no anything... the children might as well have vanished into thin air for all the luck there is in finding them. It's too early to even approach completing the profile, and there's still too much they don't know... how the murders were committed, where the children were taken and for what purpose, etc.

Aaron's fingers are tight on the wheel, and he relaxes them; getting frustrated won't help anyone's case, and dwelling on it with this intensity is only driving his mind in circles. What he needs is sleep, honestly, though there's hardly a chance of getting much; sleep and to see Jack's face, to reassure himself of the innocence the world still has to offer...

"Look out!"

Prentiss's sharp cry jolts him, and he sees a tall, thin figure on the road directly before the vehicle, where he would later swear before God that nothing was previously. The world has slowed, taken on strange, acute qualities, and he feels himself jerking the wheel forcefully... too much force, too much, because it's almost as if the SUV wrenches itself out of his control. He can't get it back, can't even function at this point, and he hears yelling as the vehicle spins wildly.

There is nothing but trees in the windshield, and crunching, and then everything is pain.

Garcia is waiting for them in the bullpen.

Derek immediately notes the worry etched across her face, and his own concern is instantaneous; he knows that look, she's worried for them. As he, JJ, and Rossi approach, she hurries forward and informs them that the others haven't arrived yet.

"They should have been here fifteen minutes ago, they were closer, and it's not that long of a drive from Bristow," she frets. Hotch, Prentiss, and Reid had been at the most recent crime scene, while Derek, JJ, and Rossi had taken on the first one in McLean. The second attack had happened so quickly that by the time the BAU was invited in on the first one, the second occurred within hours. "The weather reports say the fog is atrociously bad down their route, and I tried to call them to make sure, but none of them answered; it rang, too." Garcia takes a deep breath. "I mean, it might be nothing, but I've just got a bad feeling, and I can't shake it."

Derek's feeling it, too; maybe a byproduct of seeing Garcia so worried, but it isn't like any of them to go without answering.

"I'll try calling them again, to be sure," JJ says, frowning, and steps to the side to do so.

"What d'you have there?" Rossi asks gently, nodding to the single sheet of paper clutched tightly in Garcia's hands.

"Oh." She extends it so that Derek and Rossi can see. It appears to be a picture of a doorway, slightly fuzzy, with a strange, unnaturally tall and thin figure standing under it - blurrier than the rest of the picture. "I just got the photos from the second crime scene - you know, for BAU records. I was going through them when I noticed this - I enlarged and cropped it, but he's standing past one of the bodies, whoever it is; it's a weird angle." She's biting her lip now, clearly agitated. "It's probably nothing, probably just a detective who wandered into the shot on accident, but I just... wanted to ask the others if they'd seen anyone like that there. It's just... it's weird. The rest of the photo was crystal clear, but that was blurry, I can't even tell what his face is supposed to look like, and he's just... unnatural-looking. I want to be sure."

It's definitely a strange photo. Garcia is rambling now, clearly upset, and Derek places a hand on her shoulder, looking her straight in the eye. "It's alright," he says soothingly. "We'll show it to the others after we figure out where they are, no problem. Alright, baby girl?"

Garcia's mouth twitches in a small smile, and she nods.

"No luck," JJ says, shaking her head as she rejoins them.

They're all uneasy now; it's evident in Rossi's thoughtful, grim face and JJ's stance, and Derek can feel the muscles in his back tensing. "I say we go looking," Derek proposes, glancing at Rossi, who nods. There's something to be said for the instincts of a member of the BAU, and none of them are in the habit of ignoring such things. "What route did they take, Garcia?"

"State Route 619," Garcia says at once. "Follow Fuller down to Joplin, and keep going."

"Can you track their cells?" JJ asks.

Garcia shakes her head ruefully. "I already tried - I can't pick up their signals at all."

"Well, we'll just have to drive the route backwards, then," Rossi says. "It's only about forty minutes, right, Garcia?"

Garcia nods, overwhelming worry in her eyes.

Rossi gives her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure they're fine," he says. "And if not... we'll find them. Just keep trying to track them. JJ, why don't you stay with Garcia? In case we need to get the local police out." JJ nods, her own worry betrayed by her expression.

Derek moves forward to give Garcia a brief hug. "But what if there was an accident?" Garcia whispers.

"Then we'll find them," Derek says simply, pulling away. "It'll be okay, baby girl."

Garcia looks as if she doesn't believe him, but she says nothing until he and Rossi are heading out. "Be careful, my sweets. Bring flashlights!" Derek hears her call as he and Rossi once again depart the building.

By the time Emily's head stops spinning, the world is eerily silent.

She blinks in confusion, trying to sharpen her vision. Everything comes back into focus suddenly, and with a gasp she straightens, accompanied by a wince. But a quick mental assessment tells her that her injuries are minor; it's mostly bruising, she surmises, from being tossed around. The SUV is still on its wheels, thankfully, but the front end is completely totaled, smashed into a clump of trees with a force and angle that doesn't seem quite right. But she doesn't have time to figure out why - she turns at once to her comrades, her heart in her throat.

To her immense relief, they're stirring as well. Reid seems a little dazed, but otherwise unhurt, and Hotch is scowling. "You guys okay?" Emily asks, to be sure.

"I'm fine," Reid says, almost questioningly. "Not bleeding, as I far as I can tell."

Hotch shifts in his seat as if about to say something and bites back a cry of agony. It's only then that Emily realizes why the angle of the SUV is bothering her. The front end is crushed unevenly, and on the driver's side it's about level with the windshield. Judging by the way Hotch looks down, his face setting in a stoic mask and his jaw clenching, his legs have taken the brunt of that.

"Oh, God," Emily says in alarm. "Ah... Hotch, don't move. Reid..."

They manage to extricate themselves from the vehicle, moving stiffly but thankfully able to move at all. With unspoken consent they hurry to the other side of the vehicle and open the driver door. Reid peers down, squinting. "Emily, is there a flashlight anywhere in the SUV?"

In response, Emily runs back to the passenger's side and rummages around in the glove compartment. By sheer luck, there's a small kit sitting on top of the registration papers; some enterprising soul had realized the value of such equipment in a standard FBI vehicle at the Academy, bless them. Inside is a number of useful items, including a roll of bandages and a pocketknife, but Emily grabs the tiny flashlight and pockets the rest.

She returns and hands the flashlight to Reid, and moving carefully, he leans in to inspect Hotch's injuries. "Just the left leg," he says. "Um... you've got a gash, and it's bleeding. From this bit of plastic sticking out, judging by the blood. And... oh, that doesn't look good."

"Reid," Hotch says through gritted teeth.

"Sorry. I think your ankle is swollen pretty badly. I can't tell if it's twisted or broken, though, not in this space." Reid withdraws, looking apologetic. "We've got to get you out."

Hotch closes his eyes briefly. "I know. Just get it over with."

It's tricky, managing it with as little pain as possible for him. Even with their best efforts, he's pale and breathing heavily as they pull him from the SUV; Emily has his left arm slung over her shoulder, and with Hotch using his free limbs, they slide his upper body out of the seat. Reid is hovering anxiously on the side and helps to ease the injured leg out, not letting it touch the ground until they get Hotch seated a couple feet away from the SUV. To Hotch's credit, he never lets out more than a couple of gasps, holding back most other signs of the pain he's in.

The gash is long and bloody, staining the edges of the large tear in the pants, and Emily hands Reid the bandages. After wrapping the wound, Reid inspects Hotch's ankle, not daring to remove the shoe or the sock. After asking Hotch a few questions about the intensity of the pain, he comes to the conclusion that it's severely sprained, but not broken. Probably.

"You know, for not being a Doctor of Medicine, you're pretty useful," Emily tells Reid with a small smile.

He smiles wryly in return. "Books are useful." He's staring down at Hotch's ankle in deep thought, as if debating whether or not to try removing the shoe, and mutters something about needing ice, but Hotch breaks the silence and diverts the subject.

"Where's the guy?" he asks a bit hazily, scanning the road.

With a start, Emily and Reid turn and do the same. In the confusion of the crash, they'd completely forgotten about its cause - the figure on the road that the SUV had nearly hit.

But there's no sign of anyone.

A chill runs down Emily's spine, accompanied by an uneasy feeling that settles in her gut. A glance at Reid reveals much the same emotion; he's frowning as he scans the woods around them, on either side of the road. Emily pulls out her cell and finds that the signal is dismal - not nearly enough to make a call. After a moment, Reid confirms the same with his, and Hotch manages to extract his own cell with a little difficulty - only to have the same result. There's a second of grim silence before Emily sighs.

"I don't want to split up," she says, "but..."

"It's approximately three miles to the end of this wilderness," Reid informs them. "The Prince William Park office is likely to have someone there... or at least a landline. I'll walk there if you stay with Hotch."

This last is said to Emily, who hesitates, momentarily gazing past Reid at the fog swirling down the road. The thought of Reid walking this dark road alone at night only contributes to the unease she already feels, but what choice do they have? She could go, but it would be almost worse leaving both Reid and Hotch, with Hotch injured so.

"Alright," she says finally. "But I want you to take your gun out, and make sure it's ready."

Reid doesn't protest. He merely nods and pulls his Smith & Wesson from its holster; as he readies it, Emily glances down at Hotch, who's looking a bit clearer in the head but none too happy about the current situation - he's never liked feeling useless, and Emily doesn't blame him in the slightest.

"Okay," Reid says, holstering the gun once more. "Well, I'll see you in a bit, I guess." With a half-smile and a nod, he turns to go and stops dead with a sharp intake of breath.

Both Emily and Hotch tense, and Emily experiences an unnatural sensation of dread. It's the same tall, thin figure, standing in the road several yards away, just before the fog - and blocking Reid's path. With more than a second's view this time, Emily realizes just how wrong the figure seems - inhumanly tall and unnaturally thin, wearing a suit, of all things, with abnormally long appendages and... his face... it's not there. It's smooth and white and utterly featureless, and it takes Emily considerable effort to remind herself that it's just a mask obviously.

"Who are you?" Reid asks. His gun is half-out again, and his voice isn't exactly steady.

Emily slips her Glock out of its holster quietly, and though she doesn't take her eyes from the scene before her, at the edges of her vision she can see Hotch loosening his. She wonders if he and Reid are feeling it, too; there's a deep, almost primal fear building, and she can't pinpoint why - maybe it's the night and the darkness, maybe it's the case getting to her - but it's centered on that strange man, and she's sure as hell not going to ignore it. It's basic survival instinct.

And then, for a moment, Emily wonders if she's indeed alright from the crash, because it seems as if the figure is closer now... but she hadn't seen him move. Neither, apparently, had Reid, who takes a half-step back, bringing the gun up level with the man. "Sir, you need to identify yourself," he says, his voice stronger but no less nervous. He gets no response.

On instinct, Emily looks down at Hotch and catches his attention. Hotch nods, and Emily offers him her arm. He pulls himself up, both of them straining a little to keep him steady without putting weight on the injured ankle, and Emily helps him to back up against the SUV so as to balance. When she glances back at the figure, again it's as if she misses some point in time, because in less than a second's breadth he's nearer once more.

"I'll shoot if you get any closer without identifying yourself," Reid says shakily, but his arms are steady. "Please, just-"

The figure swoops forward suddenly, so fast that Emily can barely register it, and she hears a gunshot. There's no way Reid could have missed that, and yet it seems to have absolutely no effect on the man as he bears down on Reid, and that's when Emily gets the wild sense that this thing is not human.

"Reid!" she cries, as the figure grabs him. Emily's Glock is up and level, and while she's trying to get a clear shot, the figure disappears.

It doesn't run away quickly or duck down, it disappears - gone in a flash, and Emily stares in shock. But she doesn't have time to dwell; Reid is bent at an odd angle, as if in pain.

"Reid, are you alright?" Hotch calls out in alarm.

Emily takes a step forward, and Reid suddenly straightens. With a rapid, fluid movement not at all like the ungainly doctor, he turns, and Emily experiences yet another shock when she realizes that his gun is aimed directly at Hotch. There's a disturbing smile on Reid's face so unlike him that Emily's instincts scream that this is not him; she cannot fathom how, but it's not Reid.

Emily steps to the side, placing herself between Hotch and Reid's gun, and Reid accordingly adjusts his focus, zeroing in on her in a way that makes her shudder. Her Glock is only halfheartedly raised in return; it's not him, it can't be him, and yet she can't even imagine trying to defend against him, having to shoot him. What's going on?

"What are you doing?" she asks, the rational part of her rattling off possible explanations - injection, temporary psychosis, something. Another part of her flashes back to Matthew, and she shudders again; that was fake, that wasn't real. But... what did that thing do to you?

In response, Reid's eerie smile only widens.

Then he fires.

There's something to be said for how unsettling a forest road is on a night like this, and the idea that there might have been an accident is becoming more and more likely in Dave's mind. He's forced to drive slowly, the fog making visible distance almost a negative, and the moonlit darkness creates a ghostly effect all around them. Dave has never been one for an overactive imagination, but gazing at the forest around them is unpleasant, to say the least. Tonight, in any case, it seems to be decidedly unfriendly.

"Rossi!" Morgan says suddenly, pointing to Dave's left. Shrouded in the shadow of the forest is the SUV that Hotch, Prentiss, and Reid left in, and Dave's stomach drops. It's smashed up against a group of trees, and nothing seems to be moving within. The rest of the visible area is deserted.

Dave pulls their SUV over, and he and Morgan hurry out, fairly running to the other vehicle. Dave isn't sure if he's relieved or doubly worried when they find no one inside - both, he decides, and he gets a faintly nauseous feeling when Morgan's flashlight reveals a large quantity of blood on the ripped-up floor beneath the driver's seat, not quite dry. Hotch was probably driving...

There's also a blood trail and faint footprints leading into the woods, as they soon discover. "You think someone forced them in there?" Morgan asks, shining his small light on the dark trees.

"I can't think of any other reason why wouldn't have taken the road," Dave says grimly. "Maybe someone caused the crash. Might've pursued them in. Call JJ and Garcia, and tell them to get the Marines from the base out searching in the backcountry. We're taking no chances with this." Chopawamsic is relatively harmless camping country, though wilder than it's Prince William neighbor, but at night with a potential hostile individual or even group on the loose and three federal agents missing and most definitely in need of assistance... definitely not taking a chance.

However, Morgan's cell proves nearly dead... not even the ghost of a signal. "C'mon, man," he says in frustration, gazing at the thing as if his eyes might will it to life. He sighs and pockets it, glancing at Dave, who tries his own. Still no luck. "You want to search the outskirts of this area before we drive back, see if we can find anything to help us?" Morgan asks. The unspoken addition - find them - is heard very clearly.

Dave knows what's going through Morgan's head - frustrated worry, the same that Dave feels, and a need to tear the forest apart, if necessary, to find their friends. Something about this entire night is just wrong, and what feels even more wrong is driving back without making any further effort.

Dave nods. "Just the outskirts."

The bullet strikes the ground near Emily's feet.

She flinches by reflex, but she doesn't move; her aim is no longer half-hearted, but still she hesitates. The grin has been wiped from Reid's face, and in its place is a strained grimace. He's rigid, trembling violently, and his limbs jerk every few seconds, as if he's fighting himself and his every movement.

"Reid..." she says hesitantly.

"Emily..." Her name comes out as a gasp. "Hotch. Run."

"What's happening?" Emily asks, confusion and fear making her voice sharp. "Reid-"

"Please!" Reid chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut. "It... it wants to... just... get Hotch out of here! Get away!"

His arms jerks; the gun is once again pointed in her direction, and Emily takes only a moment to assess the situation. She turns and does as Reid asks - Hotch looks no less alarmed than she feels, but he accepts her help, leaning heavily on her and managing an awkward hop with his right leg. Emily turns to the trees - the fog on either end of the road disturbs her in the same way that the figure did, and she's determined to get Hotch into some corner of trees, somewhere hidden and safe, before coming back for Reid. She can't spare the energy to look back as she and Hotch limp into the woods, but she can hear muffled, sporadic cries of pain from Reid that make her stomach twist.

God, what's happening? What was that thing, and what did it do to Reid?

Emily and Hotch blunder through the woods; Reid still has the flashlight, and so Emily is to forced to navigate by what little moonlight there is. In the city, it's easy to forget just how bright moonlight can be, and so Emily is able to avoid most of the pitfalls of uneven ground. But even going as gently as she can, it's taking a toll on Hotch, whose labored breathing is all too indicative of the pain he's in.

And just as Emily is casting her eyes about for a place to stop, they come across Morgan and Rossi.

She can't even tell at first; it's too dark to see faces clearly, and all she can make out is two indistinct figures ahead. Then the figures move closer, and there's a light being shined in her face, and she hears Morgan's confused, "Emily?"

The light moves away and fixes on Hotch for a moment, and there's a sharp intake of breath from one of them. A moment later, Rossi hurries forward, close enough to be recognized, and gratefully Emily lets him take hold of Hotch. As Rossi helps Hotch to sit, Emily tries to catch her breath, waving away potential assistance from Morgan.

"I'm fine," she says, in between breaths. "There... was an accident."

"I know," Morgan says. "We saw. What the hell happened? Where's Reid?"

"Reid," Emily says, stomach dropping as she remembers. "... Something attacked us, attacked Reid... he was acting strangely, told us to go..."

Visible alarm flashes across Morgan's face. "Reid's still back there?"

Emily nods. "Yeah. The road. I was-" But Morgan has already taken off running, almost immediately swallowed up by the darkness. "Morgan!" There's no response, and Emily sighs. "Dammit."

"Don't let him go alone," Rossi warns. "We're not going anywhere."

Emily casts a glance at the two of them and nods. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and runs after Morgan into the darkness.

Rossi is crouched down with a flashlight, inspecting Aaron's leg, and Aaron sighs; the feeling of helplessness is not one he's used to, particularly not from an injury that seems so minor, and yet it hurts so damn much. "Reid already gave me his prognosis," he says tiredly, and the words bring a sting - what had happened back there? "Sprained ankle. The cut isn't bad. I'll live."

"Well, that's reassuring," Rossi says lightly, pulling back, but his tone isn't fooling Aaron. "I'm sure that's paraphrased, though. Reid doesn't give short prognoses." The older man gives Aaron a long look. "Care to explain what happened?"

"I don't know, myself," Aaron says, closing his eyes and running it through his head again. His rational world is coming dangerously close to collapsing, and oddly enough, he's too tired and in too much pain to care; all he wants right now is to see his team safe, and he can't even do a damn thing with this ankle. "I- you wouldn't believe me even if I told you, Dave." His eyes open again. "I wouldn't believe me if I hadn't seen it."

"You'd be surprised," says Rossi. "Believe it or not, I trust my team."

"You?" Aaron asks dryly.

"No need to be that surprised," Rossi says, equally deadpan. But there's a seriousness underlying his words, and he fixes Aaron with that look again. And with a deep breath, Aaron tells him.

"JJ, their cell signals are gone!"

The outburst has JJ hurrying to Garcia's side, peering over her shoulder at the computer. There's no activity on the screen, which displays a map of the larger Quantico area. "Where did they go?" she asks urgently, worry settling in her stomach. "Is it just being blocked?"

"It's an interference," Garcia answers, "and I can't get around it because I have no idea what it is. It happened about three miles down Joplin Road. There one minute and then bam! - just gone."

"Try calling."

JJ listens as Garcia does so - ringing, and ringing, and ringing, and the same from Rossi's. No answer. Nothing.

"Something bad's happened," Garcia says, barely above a whisper. She looks up at JJ, her eyes wide. "Call it a mother's intuition - I know my babies are in some kind of trouble."

JJ knows. She can feel it, too - an overwhelming sense of urgency to find their team, to go looking right now. "Call the police department, and get a couple of squad cars out on the road," she tells Garcia. "I'll call the Marine base; if it comes down to a search, they're familiar with the area. Actually, I think I'll drive down to the North Gate myself."

"I'm coming with," Garcia says at once, standing.

JJ bites her lip. "You should probably stay here. What if the signal comes back or they call?"

Garcia immediately begins to move, bustling around her workspace and many computers. "I'll bring a laptop with me - easy enough to reroute and monitor. But I have to go with you, JJ. I'm not letting you out of my sight. And I have to know that the rest of my family is alright. I just..." Garcia trails off, pausing and turning back to JJ. There's a real fear in her eyes; the same one she feels every time they leave for a case without her, JJ realizes, only magnified. This is truly affecting her. "I have the most terrible feeling."

JJ finds it difficult to argue; it's not hard to understand the pain of waiting, of being left behind to worry. Besides, they'll be heading in with backup, which makes her feel significantly better about the entire situation.

She nods. "Alright. But you stick with me no matter what."

Dave has never been unwilling to accept the existence of the darkest underside of light. He's Catholic, after all, and he's witnessed enough to understand that humanity has a true capacity for evil. What he hasn't witnessed is absolute proof of anything beyond that, devils and demons and the like... but he's only reserved judgment on it. His is a rational mind, but it stands to reason that if he believes in one side of the coin, he must also accept the existence of the flip side.

He eyes Hotch thoughtfully, as the younger man finishes his brief explanation. Dave would be inclined to think that perhaps both Hotch and Prentiss hit their heads a little too hard in the accident, but something isn't adding up. The timeline, he thinks... it's wrong. This spot isn't too far from the road, and according to Hotch, the confrontation on the road would have taken place just a few minutes ago... around the same time that Dave and Morgan arrived at the site of the crash.

Something is definitely up, and a glance at Hotch reveals that, besides the pain evident in his face, he's entirely lucid and normal. Victims of head injuries who see scientifically impossible things generally display further symptoms of confusion.

Dave decides to reserve judgment on this, too.

"You don't believe it," Hotch says tiredly.

"I'm trying to process it," Dave corrects him. "Match it up against what I know and what I'm willing to believe. I'm also weighing the risk of bringing you back to the SUV we came in, because if those two don't show up with Reid soon-"

As soon as he says this, he hears footsteps nearby - hasty and loud. Dave's hand drops to his Springfield as he shines his flashlight in the direction the footsteps are coming from, and the thin beam illuminates a pale, stumbling Reid emerging from the trees.

He looks as if he's about ready to pass out, and Rossi rises from his crouch, reaching forward to catch Reid by the arm. Reid gratefully accepts the help, sliding to the ground and breathing heavily. "Are you alright? What happened?" Dave asks urgently.

Reid nods uncertainly. "I- I'm fine. When it grabbed me, I just... I lost control of my body; it... it told me to kill my friends, but I couldn't. I fought it, and eventually I... threw it out, I suppose. I saw it again; it was awful, up close. But then it disappeared, and I came after them." He's not looking at Dave or Hotch; he's gazing at the ground, seeming disturbed to the point of not quite being in touch with everything yet. He's already starting to ramble. "There were things in my head that weren't mine. That thing... it's obsessed with us, it knows everything about us, as if it's in all of our heads. And it wants our attention. It's our unsub! It wanted us on this case, it wanted us on this road. It's... it's trying some kind of strategy; Hotch's injuries were intentional on its part, it knows he's the leader..."

Dave hasn't interrupted him, letting him work it out of his system. But now, the older man exchanges a glance with Hotch and places a gentle hand on Reid's shoulder. Reid looks up at him and appears startled, as if noticing Dave for the very first time.

"Rossi?" he asks. "When did you get here?"

"Apparently at the same time you were attacked," Dave says. "I'm not quite sure what's going on anymore, to be honest."

"Did you see Morgan and Prentiss?" asks Hotch.

Reid, if possible, turns even paler. "Morgan's here?" he asks. "Emily's with him?"

"They went back for you," Dave tells him.

A faint look of horror steals across Reid's face. "We've got to go after them," he says, struggling to stand, and Dave offers him a hand, pulling him to his feet.

"I agree," Dave says. He's had enough of skulking in the woods, and he'd feel immensely better if they could just get Hotch some medical attention. In fact, he'd be happy to just get his team out of these woods. He's never been given to unnecessary superstition, but something about these woods and this night is making him incredibly uneasy. "Morgan and Prentiss are probably somewhere along the road. It's no use hiding here; we'll find them and get to the SUV and get out of here."

And if his teammates are not, in fact, suffering from some kind of delusion, and something is really out there and after them for whatever reason, well... they'll deal with that when it comes.

The road is utterly empty.

Derek and Prentiss approach cautiously, waiting under the shadows of the trees for several moments to assess what they can. The fog is swirling oddly at either end of the road, obscuring the rest of the world from view, and it gives the area in between a boxed-in, unreal feeling; it's positively suffocating.

There's no sign of Reid or whoever attacked him, though Derek isn't exactly sure what to be looking for in terms of the latter.

"Reid?" he calls out, as he and Prentiss emerge from the trees. The echo is wrong, unnatural - probably because of the fog, which is equally so.

There's no answer.

"What the hell happened, Emily?" Derek asks tightly. God, if the kid's hurt somewhere...

"I- it's hard to explain," Prentiss sighs, "if you didn't see it. You wouldn't believe it. After the crash-"

She stops dead, staring past Derek at the fog. He turns quickly, raising his Sig Sauer, and experiences a deep thrill of horror when he sees a figure standing just inside the fog wall. It's gazing at them with a sightless face, a pale face devoid of anything, and there's no human in the world who looks like that. Unnatural fear has taken hold of Derek, disproportionate to the situation, and he fights for control.

"That's what attacked us," Emily breathes.

All of a sudden, the figure is closer, though Derek does not see it move. His fingers tighten on his gun, and he glares at the thing. "Where's Reid?" he demands, not betraying an inch of the irrational panic he feels.

The figure doesn't respond. It moves again, too fast to see, and Derek hears Emily's breath hitch. "I don't think bullets work on it," she whispers. "Morgan, I don't know how to fight this thing."

It's closer, again, and suddenly it's no longer solid; it's swooping towards them, a blur. However, before Derek can make a decision, before they can fight, run, whatever, the most wonderful, normal sound rips through the night air.

A roaring engine.

A black SUV materializes out of the fog wall; it doesn't slow, and it slams into the figure, which dissipates. Only then do the brakes screech, and the SUV comes to a jerking halt several feet away from Derek and Prentiss, who stare in astonishment.

Through the windshield, they can see JJ behind the wheel, looking utterly shocked. Garcia sits in the passenger's seat, covering her face. For a stunned moment, the four of them are frozen, and then in a rush, Garcia is hurrying out of the vehicle and coming towards them.

"Oh my god!" she's saying, more than once. "Oh my god... are you guys alright?"

"Yeah," Morgan says shakily. Immediately he pulls her into a hug, closing his eyes. "Yeah, we're fine."

He looks over Garcia to JJ, who's exited the vehicle more slowly and who walks over to them. She looks as if she can't decide whether to be highly alarmed or not.

"Nice driving," Prentiss tells her.

"Thanks," JJ says with a breathless, disbelieving chuckle. "I just... I saw that thing about to attack you, and I panicked. I don't think I could have stopped soon enough, anyway. We came up on you all of a sudden..." She shakes her head. "What was that thing? What's going on?"

Prentiss is grim. "I wish we knew."

"Oh, god," Garcia says suddenly, in alarm, looking past them at the crashed SUV as she pulls away from Derek, still holding onto his arm.

"Hotch is alright," Derek says at once. "He's hurt, but he's alive. But... we don't know where Reid is."

Both JJ and Garcia gaze at him in shock, and Prentiss picks it up, relating everything as quickly as she can; it's the first time Derek's heard it, too. "That thing you hit... it caused the crash and attacked us. I think... I think it possessed Reid or something. But he came to enough to tell Hotch and I to run. So I brought Hotch to a safer place, and Rossi and Morgan were there, and... we came back to look for Reid..." here she pauses, frowning. "Oh, god, this is making my head hurt. How were you guys ahead of us?" This last is directed at Derek.

And now that Derek thinks about it, the timing doesn't make any sense. "Huh... I don't know." The unease is creeping back; his grip on his gun hasn't let up, yet. He wouldn't even be able to believe what Prentiss had just told them if he hadn't seen the thing with his own eyes. As it is, he can't make any sense of it.

"Wait, wait..." JJ says. "It possessed Reid? What are you talking about?"

"JJ, you saw how it vanished when you hit it," Prentiss says. "It's not human."

JJ looks faintly sick at the thought, and Garcia, who hasn't let go of Derek's arm, clutches him tighter. She's looking all around them, eyes wide. "Uh, JJ? Weren't the police following us?" she asks suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

The four of them look back at the wall of fog. There's nothing - no sound, no movement, nothing.

Derek gets the awful sense that they are truly alone.

JJ abruptly turns back to them, all business now, even though it's obvious that she's more than a little freaked out. "I'm assuming Hotch and Rossi are still in the woods?" she asks. "We have to go to them now." The grimace on her face reminds Derek that she has a fear of woods.

"What about Reid?" Prentiss asks.

JJ's mouth tightens for a moment. "Something really strange is going on, and we need to stick together. There's safety in numbers, and we'll have a better chance of finding Reid if we work together. Plus, Hotch is also our priority, if he's hurt. We can go in, get him and Rossi out and back here, and drive back towards Quantico." She pauses, taking a breath. "When we meet up with the police, some of us can join them, and we'll get the Marines out here as well, to start a search. They're waiting for my call."

She looks to Derek, and he nods slowly, in agreement. It feels completely wrong, not continuing to search for Reid, and part of him wants nothing more than to keep looking, but Garcia's here, now, too, and their boss is injured. And nothing would be worse than splitting up, at this point.

Prentiss gives her assent.

"Stay close to me, baby girl," Derek says to Garcia, who nods. There's no way he's letting anything happen to her; he'd feel better if she drove herself back to Quantico right now... if only the road didn't feel so dangerous.

Stick together. Stay alive. Derek looks to his teammates and nods again. "Alright. Lead the way, Emily."

They head into the woods.