(My lovelies! I present the final chapter of Sins. This has been such a wonderful writing challenge. I hope you have enjoyed reading it! If you did, I have a proposition:

A dear friend suggested that I write a companion piece dealing with the agents and the 7 contrary values: Kindness, Abstinence, Liberality, Chastity, Humility, Diligence, and Patience. If this is something you would be interested in reading, please please PLEASE either leave a review letting me know as much or visit my profile to answer the poll I have posted.

If you think that's a horrible idea... Well then go do those same things but say nay, haha.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy the closing chapter. It has several mentions of child abuse, so if that is a trigger for you, please consider before reading.

Thanks! Jordon)

Wrath: (noun) strong, stern, or fierce anger; deeply resentful indignation; ire; vengeance or punishment as the consequence of anger.

"…but for Cain and his offering he [the LORD] had no regard. So Cain was very angry, and his face fell. The LORD said to Cain, "Why are you angry, and why has your face fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it." Cain spoke to Abel his brother. And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel and killed him." Genisis 4:5-8

Aaron Hotchner: Wrath

We've been in Las Vegas, New Mexico for over a week. Every day local men, white, middle aged, blue collar, had been going missing, only to be found later that day savagely beaten to death. The level of carnage being wrought by the unsub… There was very little we didn't see in our line of work, but I had rarely seen the amount of rage he displayed towards his victims. To be make it worse, we constantly seemed two steps behind.

We had tried warning the town and surrounding counties about the serial killer that was at large, but our attempts were largely met with resistance. JJ delivered a press conference the third day urging everyone to remain on alert and to display caution, remaining in their homes when at all possible, but she had been openly jeered and mocked. The townspeople were largely distrustful of the government and considered us to be meddling where we didn't belong. To make it worse, the men considered themselves to be impervious to the sadistic mind we were hunting; several times I heard men say that they wished he would only try, that they would be ready and waiting with shotgun in hand if he did. So every morning another man disappeared and every evening we discovered another bloodied, broken corpse.

However, the unsub had made a mistake on his last seemed to be devolving; in his fury and haste he didn't secure the man's hands as tightly as he should have and the victim had gotten in a few swings, as well as managing to scratch his attacker. The ME pulled DNA from the blood under his nails and got a hit in CODIS. In our profile, we had hypothesized that the unsub was a white male in his thirties. We assummed due to the local population, his ability to transport and hide the victims, and physical strength, that he was a blue collar worker. The victims were inferred to be a substitute for the unsubs real target, likely a father figure or boss.

Coy Boley was a 32 year old construction worker, born and raised in the Sangre de Cristo mountains just outside of town. From what Garcia could dig up, it looked as though the Boley family was entirely unhappy. The patriarch, Jim Owen, was by all acounts an abusive alcoholic who laid hands on both kids and his wife Murlene. She passed away when Coy was eight and younger sister Destiny was five. The medical reports ruled her death as an accident, apparently she had tripped on a toy and taken a fall down a flight of stairs, but most of the town remained convinced that Jim Owen had taken his abuse too far and murdered her. After their mother's death, the abuse the Boley children endured intensified. Coy left as soon as he graduated, roaming cities throughout the southwest such as Provo and Tuscon. Destiny on the other hand remained living with her father. She was diagnosed with terminal skin cancer seven months ago, prompting Coy to move back home to help with her care.

She had passed away a month ago, and the murders had begun just a fortnight later. We could only guess that Jim Owen had begun to beat on his son again and the combination of the abuse and his sister's death had pushed Coy to a breaking point.

Another man had gone missing this morning but unfortunately we had no leads to where to find Coy. When we had arrived on the Boley family land, Jim Owen had proved thoroughly uncooperative and had even threatened us with a rifle. He had promptly been taken into custody and taken back to the precinct. A search of the property came up empty.

I follow Dave back to the SUV and get into the passenger's seat. I dispatch Morgan, Emily, and JJ to the construction sight where Coy had been recently employed at. Reid gets in the back seat and we set course for the police station. As we are in route, my phone rings.

"Garcia, you're on speaker phone."

"Okay so unfortunately this isn't one of those calls where I wow you with my tactical prowess. I'm combing through family financial records but as of this moment in time, zilch, nada. I'm not giving up though, I'm going to dive back in. I was wondering though if you happened to have any new info that would make my task a teeny bit easier?"

"That's a negative, Garcia. We didn't find anything at the Boley residence, other than a mean old drunk who tried to threaten us. We're on our way to question him; Derek, Emily, and Jen are headed to scope out the construction site." Dave answers.

"Bollucks. Okay, never fear. I can do this, just give me some time. PG out." With a beep she disconnects. I grit my teeth infrustration. Where the hell is this son of a bitch?

When we arrive at the police station, they already have Jim Owen in an interrogation room. We send Dave in first, trying to gauge who has the best chance of extracting information on Coy's location.

He tries for several minutes but recieves nothing but scornful remarks. He rejoins us and Reid takes his place. Once again, nothing useful. I'm starting to wonder if I made a mistake insending both of our female agents to the construction site, if maybe they would have a better chance of connecting with him when Jim Owen sits up a little straighter and look Reid right in the eyes.

"You think you're gonna come in here and tell me what's what? You?" He lets out a derisive laugh. "You look like a stick figure come to life, you know that?"

Reid clears his throat. "I'm not here to tell you anything. I just want to know where you're son, Coy, is."

He leans in until their faces are just inches apart. "You think you're something special, I can tell. What with your book learning and your fance tie and your long hair… You think you're better than me? I could break you with one hand behind my back." He leans back in his chair and sucks on his teeth. "You're not even worth it. A skinny thing like you. One good thwack and you'd be done. City boys, you're all the same."

He lapses into silence and I know what needs to be done. I rap on the door for Reid to rejoin us. Once the door shuts behind him, I loosen my tie and pull it over my head, handing it to the young agent.

"Hold this. Dave, turn off the cameras."

He tilts his head carefully to the side. "Be careful, Aaron." I hold his gaze until he reaches over and switches them off.

I walk into the room and unlock his cuffs. He stares at me with suspicion, rubbing at his now free wrists.

"Who are you?"

"It doesn't really matter. Where is Coy?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because he's murdering innocent men."

He snorts, "Coy? Yeah right. That piece of shit couldn't murder anyone. Too much of his Momma in him. He's soft."

"Unlike you?"

His thin lips stretch into a grin. "That's right. My daddy was tough and sharp, like barbed wire. He raised me to be the same."

"You need to tell me where Coy is."

"You need to stop telling me what to do. I'm not like that little pansy that you sent in. I'm not afraid of you."

This time, it's me who gives a humorless smile. "Is that so?"

He stands and walks to the barred window in the corner. He looks out for a moment and then turns back to me. "Why would I be afraid of you? Oh yeah, you're a big shot compared to that scrawny kid you sent in, but we both know that it's all a bluff. You're just a big, puffed up government 've done nothing with your life. You're all alone in this world."

His words are striking a specific chord within my gut, but I push down the rising anger, I quiet the memories that his insults dredge to the surface.

"Where is Coy?"

"Oh ho ho! What, Mr. FBI is suddenly all business? Doesn't want to play anymore games? Tell me, is your wife proud of all you do? Does she go into the salon and sit with all her rich bitch little friends and fawn about how brave you are? Oh that's right. Judging by your left hand, you don't have a wife. You have no one."

I keep my face a mask. I can't let him know the reaction his words are getting. It will just feed his ego and won't gain us any info on his son's location. He walks closer to the table, resting his hand on the edge and leaning down towards my face.

"You're nothing. I know bastards like you. Hell, I raised one just like you. Always trying to make everyone proud. Trying to be 'a good boy.' But it never works because at your core you're rotten. You're worthless. I know it, you know it, everyone you work with knows it. You're nothing but a disappointment."

Something inside me snaps. I reach up and fist my fingers in the grey hair at the nape of his neck, banging his face into the table. His eyebrow splits open and blood begins to trickle down his face.

I'm eight years old. I've just presented my father with my latest report card. All As except for a B in English. I stand in front of him, eyes trained on my feet, hands clasped behind my back as he studies it, glass of whiskey clasped in his hand. He sits it down with a soft clink and then he hits me across the face. Tears fill my eyes. "What is this? A B? You're a disappointment. This isn't good enough." The tears begin to flow down my cheeks and it only further provokes his ire. "Oh I'll give you something to cry about, boy." His hand goes to his belt and he removes it from his pants.

I'm on my feet. I land a solid right hook, knocking him sideways. He regains his balance and counters with his own punch. I parry and bring my elbow up into his nose as hard as I can.

I'm twelve years old. Sean spills his milk at dinner and Dad grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulling him out of his chair. My mother remains in her seat, staring at her plate. I leap to standing. "Leave him alone!" I yell without thinking. He releases my brother and instead rounds on me. He grabs my arm and uses his grip to hold me in place while he lands a slap across my face. He then shoves me across the kitchen. I fall, slamming my face into the countertop.

In my red haze, I'm sloppy and he Jim Owen gets in a solid punch. I recover and retaliate with my own hit , followed by a knee to his stomach. He stays hunched over, his breath coming in wheezes.

I'm sixteen. I've taken Haley out to the movies and now we're parked at the town park. We've been kissing for what seemes like hours. We've been dating for several months and our physical relationship has been slowly developping. My hand is massaging her chest through her shirt when she places a tennative hand on my belt . I help her undo the belt buckle and fly and she eases her small, soft hand inside my boxers. It's the best thing I've ever felt and I barely have a handle on myself when suddenly my door is wrenched open. My father's silhouette is outlined by the streetlamps and I can only stare at him in horror for a moment as Haley draws back her hand in shock. Then he grabs me and drags me from the truck, throwing me to the ground. I hit my shoulder hard and I grit my teeth against the pain as I hurriedly refasten my pants and belt. He lands a kick to my ribs and I can't help but cry out. "Stop it! You're hurting him!" I hear Haley shout. She has gotten out of the pick up and is now standing by the hood, her face a picture of terror. He spins towards her and yells for her to get out of there, that this didn't concern her. I slowly get to my feet and tell her to go. He back hands me across the face and it's all I can do to stay on my feet. "Go Haley. Run!" She stumbles a few steps backwards and then turns. I watch as my future wife and mother of my child runs into the night as my father hits me again and again.

I shove him backwards with my foot and follow him to the ground. I wrap my hands around his thoat. "I may be worthless, but I can sure as hell beat the shit out of you. Now you have five seconds. Tell me where to find Coy or I swear to God… I will kill you. And I won't lose a single wink of sleep over it." He groans and I tighten my grasp. "Try me."

"We have… an old hunting lodge. It's on a couple acres in Murlene's brother's name. That's where he would steal away when he was a teenager. That's the only place her could be."

A voice in the back of my mind tells me that's far enough. That it's time to let go. But as I stare down into the face of this man, I can see no one but the man who raised me, the father who died before I hd a chance to stand up to him. My fingers twitch to squeeze harder, to watch the life drain from his eyes. But in the next instant I picture these same hands craddling a newborn Jack. I see them brush a hair from Haley's beautiful eyes.

I loosen my grip and sit back on my heels. As I come to a standing position he rolls onto his side and coughs violently. My pulse is still racing as I retreat through the interrogation room door. Dave does a good job of masking his emotions but Reid has a harder time concealing his shock and what could only be described as fear.

"Did you get the info to Garcia?" I ask. My voice is low and gravelly. I take my tie from Reid's limp hands and return it to it's position around my neck.

"Yeah, she… She's searching reords now. She should have it any-" He's interrupted by a ping as the location is streamed from Garcia's lair to our devices.

As we make our way to the SUV, Reid gets on the phone to relay the news to the rest of the team. Dave lightly touches my shoulder. "You okay?"

I nod curtly. "Yeah. I just… I will be. Let's just find this guy." He nods and we get into the car. I take several deep breaths as I stare out the window. I can't help but chastize myself for losing control. I spent the majority of every day making sure that I wasn't my father, doing everything I could to live of above the rage that rooted deep in my soul. As we speed across the New Mexico landscape, I can't help but fear what has been woken up inside of me.