Rossi and Morgan pull up in front of the Coroner's office. Rossi switched off the engine while Morgan stretches and stifles a yawn. "Am I keeping you up, Morgan? Rossi chuckled.

"Rossi, it's been a long day. And you heard what Hotch said..." Morgan sniffled. He wondered if Hotch was serious. "You don't think boss-man is serious do you. I'm already tired." He sighed. He already knew the answer.

"Yeah, he is. But he's letting us unpack at the hotel once we have done the profile. But first, I think baby Derek will have to go bye-byes."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very Funny!" Rossi laughed and they both got out the car.

Inside they were both led to an autopsy room where both victims lay. The medical examiner stood before Rossi and Morgan. He was a bulky man, and was already balding. He glanced at the agents, probally wondering about the indifference they shared. It worried agents, that maybe they would soon come across as emotionless and hard-faced. It's what you expected when working in this type of field.

"Gentleman. This is a body that..." The man started but was interupted by a restless Rossi, "I know it's a body. I want to know if you found any material that might of entered or lingred to the hips..." The examiner was shocked at his outburst, but that's when Morgan stepped in. "I'm sorry, but we really don't have much time" He yawned again, earning a sharp look from the older agent. Morgan just sniggered.

"Yes. Their was thread. A large amount... It was found in the lateral and anterior which is near to the gluteal region. And also in the inspinal column. It looks as if the person had tried to connect there blood vessles and organs together." He said in a popmous manner.

Morgan turned to smirk at Rossi. They had met countless of medical examiners that think just because they are FBI agents they didn't understand medical terminology, "Oh, really? Rossi exclaimed, as if he was learning about explosive devices in a school science lesson. This made the doctor smile, he then nodded his head confidently. Morgan turned around, pretending to blow his noes into tissue but instead snorted and giggled into it. The doctor frowned hearing the muffled sounds that were coming from Morgan.

The man motioned his hand toward the victims, a bruised and mutilated boy. "Resulting from obstructed circulation and bacterial infection, gangrene had set in. Which caused the localized death and decompostition, this gentleman, is what caused the twins to die very quickly.

"What I cant understand is that if Hotch and Reid are certain about the unsub, " being a neo-nazism" why hasn't he stripped the victims of their belongings including their hair..." Morgan said.

"Oh no. You see, here, is a carving of the Swastika symbol imprinted on both of the victims chest." The doctor said. Both Morgan and Rossi looked at the imprint, and both thought how tragic this case actually is. My God, what would the press say about this!

"He wants his victims to be degraded and intimidated, by branding them he is indicating the ownership he has over their body." Rossi was now slacked-jawed and held a wide stance. He knew that the twins would be aware of the symbol and relate it to pure evil. However, some people believe the symbol defines love or fascism, however Hitler seeked out to abuse it.

"There was also scratch marks on Corbin's eyeballs and below his eyelids." The doctor said. Rossi wondered why the Unsub would scratch Corbin's eyes, he hasn't got a reason to has he? Unless, the child was covering his eyes because they were scared and the Unsub wanted his victims to watch...I'm not so sure. Rossi thought. He let it go for the time being...

"The victims were his favourite subjects, and they were afforded special treatment, such as being able to keep their own hair and clothing, as long as they stayed healthy and useful to him, they would be kept alive. That didn't last long, because he failed. Which is why he will be targeting his next victims" Rossi implied and Morgan gulped. Cases like this was a strain on the team, more so when it includes children.

"So, his signiture is the Swastika symbol because it illustrates domination, fear and embarsement." Morgan asked. He knew the answer but it was something the agents did when they clarified parts of a profile. Rossi nodded his head in approval, unfourtnatley for the victims familes, the Swastika symbol would be the nightmare they would never forget...

When Hotch arrived at the car, Dylan was already sat in the SUV. Hotch leant his head against the door, embracing the chilled temperature as it cooled his heated forehead. He noticed Dylan waiting in the car, he knew he wanted to say something but Hotch just frowned. When he opened the car door, music bellowed out.

"Will you turn that music down, please?" Hotch ordered, and sat down comfortably while bitting back a groan at the sight of Dylan turning it down only two notches. He frowned and gave a shake of his head.

"Can you think of anything else we could add to our Unsub?" Hotch asked, genuinely. "We're about to give a profile" Dyan shrugged, "Did you get the email from Rossi and Morgan?" Hotch asked, starting the roaring engine. The older agent wasn't going to stop until he had an answer...

"Hotch, we are looking for a doctor who's a delusional, paranoid killer who hunts...Jewish people. Not to mention that he's most likely a former mental patient who also happens to be creating conjoined twins!" Dylan said frantically, he twisted his ring, three times. And hotch noticed.

"When we gather everyone's infomation, trust the profile. When we get him it will all make sense." Hotch assured. Keeping his eye on Dylan who was turning his ring again. Hotch thought that he would need a little rensurance as it was his first case, and it was his job to confide with him. In all things.

"Dylan?" Hotch narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "I want to know what's been bothering you" He ordered rather coldly.

"Hotch... I'm... I'm just not feeling very well. Dylan stammered, blinking back a few tears. "I feel sick" He sniffled.

"I will drop you off outside the hotel. I want you to get some rest." Hotch tightened his lips and looked across at the droopy body. He felt Hotch's stare and wrapped his arms around his body.

"I dont need to have a rest." He huffed and rolled his eyes.

"That was an order..." Hotch said gently.

"What... but..." He started to argue but Hotch says,"Would you rather me to suspend you for an hour so you can get some rest. And it go down on your record." He said as we arrived at the hotel. That was quick. "Or you can be a good boy and go and find your room and take a nap." He nagged. Dylan gave Hotch a sceptical look, wondering why he was treating him like a child. Then he decided to carry this on, "Yes daddy" he said in a baby-ish voice.

Hotch stared at him wide-eyed. Dylan honestly thought he was going to scold him for being immature, until Hotch smiled and before they knew it they were both laughing.

They both had a good laugh at this and Dylan realizes it's his first time he's had a positive moment with Aaron.

"I didn't know you could laugh" Dylan said, smilling.

"Dont start... Now go, I will see you tommorow morning. Hotch smiled.

"Yes sir. "

Dylan's POV

I grabbed my Go-Bag and walked hastily up the steps, it was a basic accommodation. Inside, their were wilting potted palms, brassy cuspidors changing yellow, ratty wingchairs; and the fading decor is deco-gone-to-seed.

I looked across at the lobby, "Well, this is the hotel" I thought. Beneath my feet there was a durable wool carpet and there was a neutral view of everything. The lobby was surley 70% vacant, I smirked. This is going to be a very noiseless stay. I shifted towards the desk, making scuffles from my shifting boots as I hit the chime. The meldodious series of ringing sounds go on without losing toll until the back door opens, swinging strides, it's a long decisive swing and a young man in a mulberry waistcoat comes from the basement, fixing his shirt.

He shuts the door and walks up to the desk and sticks his fingers out to stroke the chime. I looked at the man, raising my eyebrows and placing my hands in my pockets. His face was blushed and sweaty but his face held craves of admiration. Odd. I think I knew what he was up to down there.

"Hello, there? Welcome to Red Rocker Inn. The finest and delicious place to dine and sleep, of cause. How can I help you?" The man said.

"I'm checking in. Dylan Brennon."

"Did you say Brannon?"The man said while flipping through the sheets.

"Brennon." I corrected.

He turns the register around so I can sign It. The man watches how I scrawl to the paper. He starts to coax me.

"Your going rip the paper. Do you want that? He said. I look up from the paper and quickly adjust my cuffs.

"Excuse me." I say, a little freaked out.

"... Are you a transient or resident?" He asks me.

"I'm not to sure... what's the difference? I mean, I'll only be here for a 5 day at max. I'm kinda doing a job in this area." I say. And then he soon becomes cognizent of who I am.

"Oh. Your an FBI agent. Where are the others. Mr Hot... Mr hotchner said there is 6 of you all together." He said while looking in a small box full of keys.

"They will be arriving later, I think. And what if I dont have a kettle. Most of these hotels never supply Kettles. Just soap."

"If you need anything, and that's anything at all, all ya gotta do is dial two on your in-room telephone and that puts you straight into me. Where you can talk to me, about anything. That's anything. My name is Callum. You remember that." I quickly nodd. And he passes me a room key across the counter on top of the index card. Placing them into his hands. Touching my skin... as I stare fixidly at the card. On it was: "CALLUM!:)" I look back up at Callum, and we regard each other for a moment.

"Okey, go ahead!" Callum smiles, bitting his lip.

"... What number did you say"

"11-O-five, I forget to tell you." He laughed and wiggled his eyebrows.

I pick up my bags and head to the elevator. When Callum shouts over to me, "I'll keep an eye on you. Yanno, make sure nothin bad happens. My eyes are peeled Mr Brennon." My eyes shift taking long blinks, and I paced further towards the elevator. Pressing the button again... and again.

"Careful with that button, Agent. Don't wanna fork out more money." Callum shouted again and I squirm under his gaze. My fingers crept down towards my gun, for some sort of comfort.

Just as I was about to do anything stupid. I felt my phone buzzing in my back pocket, I reached for the phone and answered it immediatley. Thank the lord!

"G... Garcia?" I chocked out, Wiping the remaining sweat off my forehead.

"Dylan? Are you alright?" She sounded rather worried. That worried me too but in all respects I didn't want people to keep asking me if I was OK.

"I'm fine. I wished people would stop asking me that." I said, rather coldy.

"Well, I searched the name, "Henry Brennon" and I couldn't find a phone number but I have an address..." She said.

"Yes..."

"He's in Fremont. Which is pretty odd... But he's living near the docks. Hold on a sec... It's 32 Pinfold ave, Fremont." I couldn't believe it, My brother is less than 20 minutes away. I dropped the bags and hanged up on Garcia, and made my way back over to that creepy man.

"Hey, Callum? Would you mind taking those bags to my room. I'm afraid I have some business to take care of." He nodded, "Anything, for you agent" I quickly smiled even though it creeped me out. I'm going have to look into this guy, later.

A few hours later-

All the team is now unpacking at the Red Rocker Inn, until Derek runs down the corridor, banging on Hotch's door.

"What is it, Derek?" Hotch cooed as he opened the door to see a breathless agent.

"It's... It's Dylan. I am sharing a room with him and well he's not there. And then, Garcia rang and I asked her if she heard from Dylan. And she just... had to tell me. " Derek was just stuttering.

"Calm. Down. Just, spit it out."

"He's gone after his brother." He chocked out.

"Carry on." Hotch demanded. He started to become restless.

"Aaron, Dylan's a jewish twin. He's gone after his twin. I dont know, but Garcia had to look into his family background. As far as I know, Hotch. He's in danger..."