A/N: Now that my former project is nearing its end, I think it's time to launch something new.

This story is the (quite narrow, but still) winner of my 'My next CM story' -poll. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to those who have voted thus far! And the poll is still open and in my profile, so if you want to take a look at what kind of stories are luring in the back of my head and perhaps even cast a vote go on ahead!

WARNING: gore, blood, swearing, torture, VERY adult themes… As the title suggests this will be a very dark fic, so… (grins sheepishly) Hey, where did you all go?

DISCLAIMER: Me, own? Yeah, right… If I DID own anything of 'CM', Reid's secret would've been revealed fifteen episodes ago. (growls)

Awkay, because I may change my mind about posting this… (takes a deep breath) I REALLY hope you'll enjoy the start-out!

(To those wondering… Yeah, the story's title hints towards the book.)

And Then There Were None

Prologue – The Eyes Have It

/ At first there was only headache when consciousness reached a five-year-old Cody Jones, slowly yet surely. He emitted a tiny, frail whimper and brought both of his hands to his face, desperately attempting to block out the pain. A tear or two rolled down his cheeks.

What was going on? Where was he? The last thing he remembered was hearing steps behind him while he'd been sitting on a playground's swing…

"You shouldn't whimper. And don't cry – don't ever cry." Although it belonged to a little boy the voice startled him so badly that he shuddered. "Uncle John doesn't like it when we cry."

Cody swallowed, entirely new fear making him forget about the headache for a moment. Slowly, disobeying the pleads of his body, he moved his hands and opened his eyes. What he found made the little warmth there'd been in his tiny body fade away.

The room around him looked like a basement of some sort. There was no furniture apart from eight mattresses, one of which he occupied, and a tiny oil lamp that'd been placed in the middle of the room. With the lack of light it was almost impossible to see properly, and the darkness seemed to sneak all the way under Cody's skin. It wasn't what got to him the most, though. Because it was around then he began to realize that he wasn't alone. Five more of the mattresses were occupied by boys who looked about his age. They were all bald and had similar gray shirts and pants on. And every single one of them had the same look in their eyes that chilled Cody.

Cody wrapped his arms tightly around himself, desperately attempting to make sense to things. "What… What is this place?" he managed.

The boy on the mattress next to his was quiet for a moment, his brown eyes darkening still. The child turned out to be the same who first spoke to him. "This is Uncle John's house. He took us here because he wants to play with us."

Cody frowned, desperately fighting against the tears of fear that wanted to fill his eyes. "Play… with us?" he repeated.

The other boy nodded. "Don't cry – Uncle John hates it. Owen cried yesterday and he was taken upstairs." The child glanced towards the hopelessly long, ominously dark stairs that seemed to lead towards some sort of a hatch. "No one comes back when they're taken upstairs. I've been here the longest, for two months – I know." The boy then looked towards him, appearing curious. "I'm Liam. Who are you?"

It took a very long moment before Cody managed to speak. Even as he did his frail, tear-filled voice shook. "My… My name is Cody."

Liam nodded and smiled, just a little bit. "Welcome to Uncle John's house, Cody. And don't look so sad. It gets easier when you've been here for a while."

Cody wished from the bottom of his child's heart that he'd been able to believe Liam. Because just then the hatch opened. /

Spencer Reid had been in the position he found himself in that morning several times before – too many times. His heart thumped painfully as he tried to look away from the gun pointed his way, instead focusing on the UnSub's eyes. Despite how dilated the man's pupils were it was easy to see the shade of icy blue that reminded him of a wounded wild beast. The cold sweat shimmering all over the man's face had glued his shortcut black hair to his forehead and neck.

The UnSub was Joshua Martel, age thirty. He was a psychiatric patient who'd been diagnosed with schizophrenia when he was eighteen. He'd been discharged from a mental institution a year and a half ago. Since then four little boys at the age of five had disappeared. A jogger's dog had found them from a hideout that'd been built under the ground in the middle of a forest. They'd all been killed with single, heavy and swift blow to the death – they'd died instantly. The boys had been covered with thick blankets, and a small lamp had been left to provide them some light.

In such a small town it'd been a challenge for the team to convince people into opening up to them. It'd taken the team almost two full weeks before the leads had finally pointed towards Joshua. It took another two days before they found him.

And they were almost too late. Because as it turned out they weren't the only ones who'd managed to track down the killer. Psychiatrist Karen Donovan, a doctor of Joshua's age who treated him when he was in a hospital, heard the news of the killings and caught on in an instant. Ignoring her own safety she sought him out from the small, barely still standing house that was his childhood home and went to talk to him all alone. Now she was huddled on the floor between Joshua and the wall, her green eyes full of fear and signs of several punches on her face. There was a hint of blood on her long, blond hair.

It looked almost like Joshua had forgotten about Karen, though. Because all the man's attention was directed towards Spencer. "You have to leave, now", the UnSub hissed. "I don't want to have anything to do with you."

Spencer revealed his sweating, empty hands for the man to see. "I'm not going to harm you, Joshua. But I can't leave, either. You've killed five children, five little boys."

Those words finally triggered something. Joshua's eyes flashed with something primal and for a moment Spencer was sure the man would shoot him. "I… I was protecting them! They're safe now!"

Spencer swallowed thickly, all the adrenaline in his body making his head spin. "Joshua, I know you're scared and angry. You did it all for those boys. I understand." He glanced quickly towards the utterly horrified woman who was shaking violently. "But Dr. Donovan doesn't have anything to do with it. She tried to help you, Joshua. She tried to understand, too."

Joshua shook his head violently. Tears rolled down the man's cheeks while he began to tremble uncontrollably. "She doesn't understand a fucking thing!" the armed man screamed, his voice filled with despair. "And you sure as hell don't understand, you don't! You don't have a fucking idea! Uncle John isn't whispering in your head – you don't have to listen to him every single moment, even when you're asleep! So don't you dare tell me you understand!"

And then, in less than a breath, a gunshot rang out.

Suddenly there was movement and shouting everywhere, so much buzzing that it was impossible to keep track of it all. Blood stained the floor and the walls, and Karen screamed.

Spencer shuddered when feeling a hand on his shoulder. "Reid?" Derek Morgan's voice carried a heavy load of worry. "Reid, are you okay?"

He nodded slowly. Yes, Spencer was fairly sure he was at least somewhat okay. But he couldn't tear his gaze away from Joshua's body, which had slumped lifelessly to the floor. There was a self-inflicted gunshot wound on the man's head.

And suddenly Spencer felt almost ready to cry although the harsh voice of his reason tried to tell him that justice had been served.

He didn't snap back into present time until a couple of officers from the local police covered Joshua's body and Aaron Hotchner stood before him with a frown. "Are you alright?"

Spencer was pleased to discover that he was finally able to speak, although quite little. "Yeah", he breathed out, his gaze shifting towards Emily Prentiss and David Rossi as the two escorted hysterically shaking Karen away. "I'm fine."

Apparently coming to a conclusion that he'd seen enough of the room Derek squeezed his shoulder to get his attention. Finally looking up he found a look of sympathy from the man's eyes. "C'mon, kid. Let's get out of here."

Spencer nodded once more, more than eager to leave the nightmare behind. None of the three of them said a word as they walked out of the building.

The chief of the local police, Giles Manlow – a slightly overweight, rapidly balding man with tiny eyes – walked over to them with a frown on his sweaty face. "So that psycho took care of himself?"

Spencer felt a cold breeze he couldn't explain on his skin and opened his mouth, but Aaron was faster. "He killed himself before we could get to him."

Giles unleashed a clearly dissatisfied gunt, the frown on his face deepening. "Well fuck." The man then looked towards him. "So you decided to go and face him unarmed. How did you know he wouldn't blow your head off?"

Spencer opened his mouth, about to respond, until he felt someone watching him. He turned his gaze with a frown and felt chills go down his spine upon seeing someone standing in the shadows of a nearby block of flats. The observer's eyes were fixed directly upon him. And for a moment Spencer lost his breath entirely although he wasn't sure why.

"Reid?" Emily's voice called out to him. "What's wrong?"

Spencer closed his eyes, then opened them again. The observer was gone.

He swallowed thickly, then shook his head. Somehow the air around him felt a lot colder than before. "Nothing. I just… thought I saw someone."

The others appeared confused but none of them said a thing.

Hours later in the team's jet Spencer was the only member of the team who couldn't find sleep.

Or so he thought until Aaron sat beside him all of a sudden. "You seemed pretty out of it today", the man stated before he could say a word.

Spencer swallowed against the tightness of his throat he couldn't understand, looking out the jet's window to avoid meeting the other man's eyes. Flashes of the children's bodies mixed with the sight of Joshua shooting himself. And from somewhere behind all that a flash of the observer appeared, taunting him. His eyes narrowed as though he'd been getting a headache. "I just… I guess this case hit me, that's all."

Aaron nodded, seeming to relax slightly although the man most likely knew that he hadn't told the full truth. "Cases like this… They never get easier. But you did a good job, although I don't appreciate your decision of facing him unarmed. You did everything you could." With that the unit chief got up. "And if there's something on your mind you can always talk to me. I hope you know that." After receiving his nod the man went back to his own seat.

And suddenly Spencer found it easier to breathe than before.

Less than half an hour later he was asleep, blissfully unaware that his own personal nightmare had only just began…

TBC, or not?

A/N: Ominous, much? (shudders a little bit)

So… Was that any good, at all – or should I just put this out of its misery and pretend this story never existed?

PLEASE, let me know! It'd mean the world to me, especially now that this story is only just beginning. (gives puppy's eyes)

Thank you so much for reading!

Until next time, folks – whichever story that may be with!

Take care, yeah?