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Thrown to the Dogs	By : hatochiisai Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 4831 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor do I make any financial profit off of writing and posting this work.

Chapter List
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Thrown to the Dogs
Ahmose Inarus
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Criminal Minds.
SLASH WARNING! Hotch/Reid pairing for the Let Me In Series

Chapter 1
QUANTICO, VIRGINIA
6 AM

Hotch was woken by the rapidly cooling sheets around him, and the soft rustling of clothes. He didn't move when he felt the blankets being tucked around him, and then a soft kiss to his forehead. Then he heard Reid slipping out of the room. After a moment he blinked his eyes open, looking at the dark, empty room. He heard Reid going down the stairs, and then the front door opened. Hotch moved to sit up on his knees, putting his hands on the headboard of the bed. Then he reached out and parted the curtains slightly, peering out of the window that was over the headboard.
He saw Reid walking down the front path, putting ear buds into his ears and slip through the little country garden gate at the four foot stone wall that surrounded the property. He was wearing sweat pants and, Hotch smirked, one of HIS old sweatshirts with an FBI Hoodie. His long, tousled curls had been pulled back into a ponytail, and instead of his usual converse he was wearing athletic shoes.
After messing with his iPod for a moment, he pulled on some gloves against the misty morning chill, pulled up his hood and started to jog down the street.
Hotch smiled, and turned to get out of bed. He headed into the bathroom and showered, then stood before the mirror with a towel around his waist and shaved.
"Nyao!"
"In a minute." He mumbled, answering the hungry demands of the seal point Siamese watching him from the doorway.
"MAO!" He glanced at the impatient cat and rolled his eyes, applying his aftershave. Then he went to the closet and tossed his towel in the hamper, pulling on clean underwear and a pair of black slacks. "Murrrow?" He sighed and looked at the flame point male Siamese that was now sitting next to the female.
"Apollo, Artemis, not now." He grumbled, wondering when he had taken to talking to his lover's pets. He pulled on a white undershirt and put on a white dress shirt over it, and draped his dark red tie around his neck before pulling on a pair of socks… he had to find a matching set first… Reid had done the laundry last and didn't believe in matching socks. Then he put on his bright shiny dress shoes, grabbed his suit coat and left the bathroom, heading downstairs. The cats, nearly eleven months old, followed, meowing eagerly. As soon as he got to the kitchen, draping his suit jacket over the back of a chair, he filled the cats' bowls and just smiled for a moment, listening to them purr loudly as they ate. Then he turned and grabbed a pan out of the cabinet, some butter, bacon and eggs from the fridge, and Eggo waffles from the freezer.
When the front door finally opened, Reid immediately appeared in the doorway, looking slightly annoyed.
"And here I was going to make YOU breakfast." Reid snorted.
"Nope." Hotch grinned, chopping up tomatoes, onions and bell peppers. "Go shower and get dressed. Breakfast will be ready when you are." Reid smiled.
"Alright." And he turned and headed up the stairs. Hotch smiled to himself, trying not to think about the stirrings in his pants at the sight of his lover all hot, panting, sweaty and flushed from his run in the cold, December morning.
When Reid came in for breakfast, wearing cords and a white dress shirt with a goldenrod tie, Hotch turned and set the plates down on the table.
"Ooh." Reid commented, looking down at the waffles and omelets. Hotch then presented him with a steaming mug of coffee. Reid took a large sip, and smiled. "Mmm… perfect, Aaron." He sighed, and Hotch smiled and leaned over, gently kissing his lover.
The basked in the moment, inhaling the scent of one another's aftershave, then ate their breakfast in companionable silence. Then they did the dishes together and headed up stairs to brush their teeth. Reid pulled a gray sweater vest on and grabbed an old tweed jacket, running his hand through his hair in front of the mirror as Hotch did the same, though he had gel on his hands. He washed them, and smiled when Reid leaned in and kissed his cheek.
"Love you…"
"Love you too… let's go." Hotch said, and the pair headed back downstairs. Reid went to put on his converse over his socks; one was solid black, and the other had kittens chasing little balls of yarn. Only Reid remembered that this was the sock he had worn when he had testified in court, only the day before he was abducted by Coronado and taken to South America… He might have thrown it out, but… he LOVED the sock!
When he stood Hotch emerged from the kitchen, wearing his suit jacket and carrying two travel cups of coffee. Reid smiled and accepted his and the pair headed for the garage. They struggled into their coats (Hotch with the keys in his teeth), grabbed their respective briefcase and messenger bag, and opened the door to the garage. Reid watched as Hotch set the alarm, and then they both stepped into the garage and closed the door. They heard the triple beep that let them know that the system was armed. Hotch locked the door (they had learned on a case to ALWAYS lock the door to the garage, as people could find a way to open the remote garage door itself) and pushed the button to open the automatic garage door before he got into the car. As soon as the motor was on, a shivering Reid reached for the heat, and Hotch smiled as he backed the car out onto the street.
He turned on the fog lights in the morning mist that was still hanging thick, and began to slowly drive down the quiet street.
"… She's insane." Reid suddenly breathed, eyes wide. Confused by this seemingly random outburst, Hotch turned to look where Reid was looking. They were passing their neighbor's house, two doors down. It was a gothic style house, almost victorian in some aspects. It was dark wood and brick, and quite hidden behind large trees.
But what had captured Reid's attention was their neighbor herself. A petite woman was walking down the path. Her ethnicity seemed to be Latino or Middle Eastern (it was hard to tell from their distance and the fog), but what Reid had been speaking of was the fact that despite the cold morning, the woman was strolling down the front walk in a VERY short black nightie with a plunging neckline, and a little lightweight robe with an oriental print on it, barely reaching her knees. She blinked up and noticed the two men staring, then gave them a brilliant smile and waved as she picked up the newspaper. Then she hurried out to intercept them.
Hotch slowed the car to a stop and rolled down the window, ignoring Reid's squeal of "You'll let the heat out!"
"You have the heat on?" The woman asked, eyes sparkling in amusement. "Why? This is nothing." Reid just gawked at her. She grinned and offered her hand. "Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Samira!"
"Aaron." Hotch greeted with a smile, shaking her hand. "That's Spencer. And he grew up in the desert. He's not much for the cold."
"Ah. I guess I can forgive him then." She said, her musical accent (and their now closer, clearer view), as well as her name giving her up as being Middle Eastern. She turned and waved her hand back towards the house. "That's Alice. She… has no manners this early in the morning."
Hotch and Reid glanced back at the house. Standing into the front door was a curvy, full figured woman with red hair in pigtails at the base of her skull. She was wearing hot pink pajama pants and a black pajama shirt with a skull and crossbones on it… the skull was wearing a hot pink bow on the top of its head. She was wearing a long red robe with black lining, and after she gave a sleepy wave, she turned back into the house, revealing a large black spider with the lightning bolt on it emblazoned on the back of the robe.
"Come back in the PM, she'll be much more friendly." Samira grinned. "I won't keep you, you're obviously heading in to work. Nice to meet you!" And she stepped back and waved as they drove away.
"… In. Sane." Reid stated flatly, turning up the heater and sipping his hot coffee. Hotch just laughed.
"You're the one who went jogging this morning."
"And I couldn't feel my extremities when I got home." Reid grumbled. "And I was even bundled up. SHE is next to naked."
Hotch just grinned.
When they got to the BAU, Reid scampered from the car to the warm building as quick as he could, Hotch on his heels with an affectionate smile.
"Morning Spence. Hotch."
"Good morning, JJ." The pair said in unison, making her grin.
"Great timing." She told them, holding up a file. "Case just came in." The pair adjusted their trajectory to the Round Table Room, heading there instead of to their respective office and desk.
Ten minutes later, the last member of the team strolled in.
"You're late." Hotch announced.
"Like I give a damn." Rossi snorted, taking a seat and smirking at the annoyed look he got from the younger Unit Chief. But Reid grinned and snickered to himself, and Hotch let it go.
"Vermont." JJ announced, and everyone paid attention. "Seven murder victims. They've disappeared from all over the state, but their bodies have all turned up outside of a small town called Fox Creek." And seven photos popped up on the screen. "Both male and female, aged between eighteen and thirty three."
"No gender or age preference?" Morgan asked, frowning.
"No racial preference, either." Prentiss pointed out. Three were white, one was black, two were Hispanic and one was Asian.
"The first one disappeared ten months ago. They go missing for anywhere from a week to a month and a half, and then their body shows up along the same hiking trail…"
JJ changed the screen, and Garcia let out a horrified cry, turning away.
"My God…" Prentiss breathed.
"They've been torn apart by an animal…" Reid murmured, studying the picture carefully.
"They were covered in canine DNA." JJ announced.
"Oh my God!" Garcia gasped, still looking away. "I do NOT want to hear that!"
"Sorry Garcia…" JJ said with a sad smile.
"Any idea what these victims have in common?" Morgan asked.
"They were all Veterinary Technicians." JJ said. "They vanished from their place of work."
"Have they gone over the people who went in that day?" Hotch asked.
"No common names, or pets." JJ said. "Dogs and cats of all breed, and all different names. Doesn't seem to be anyone in common. The authorities just found a body last night. Someone always goes missing within a week of them finding a body, so…"
"So we have six days before someone else disappears." Rossi sighed.
"Wheels up in thirty." Hotch said firmly, and the team dispersed.
The plane ride was quiet. Reid spent the entire time curled up in his seat, buried in the photos of the mauled victims, inspecting them in great detail with a frown on his face. The rest of the team went through the victim's files, as Reid had already read and memorized them.
"You know…" He suddenly announced, "I think that these were done by different dogs."
"I doubt only one animal did that." Morgan snorted.
"No no, I mean… different breeds…" Reid explained. "Look here." And he laid down a photo. "Here, you have a VERY defined bite mark. I'm willing to bet that this was either an American Bulldog, or a Staffordshire Terrier."
"A what?" JJ asked.
"More commonly known as a Pit Bull." Reid said, calmly. "But this… see how this one is longer and more narrow? This was probably something like a shepherd… German Shepherd, Belgian Malinois, something along those lines. And this one here? It's longer than a pit, more narrow than a pit, but it's shorter and wider than a shepherd… I'm guessing a hound or a retriever… And judging by what I'm seeing… there are several of each breed. And the wounds aren't in the same stages of healing. These victims were attacked by numerous dogs of several different breeds over a week or more…"
The Team sat back to think on this information…
It was snowing when they arrived. They all clutched their coats closely around themselves as the biting wind tried to get to them. JJ slipped on a patch of ice, and Reid barely managed to reach out and catch her with an arm around her shoulders. JJ smiled up at the tall genius, and they continued the short trek to the two SUV's belonging to the local sheriff's department. The sheriff and one of his deputies were sitting in the diver's seats, with the heat blazing.
The team threw their things into the trunks, and hopped into the two vehicles. Once Hotch shut his door, he gave an almighty shiver before turning to the man in the driver's seat. The man, eyes twinkling, smiled and offered his hand.
"Welcome to the Green Mountains in the winter!" He announced cheerfully, and Reid and JJ exchanged looks at the little green strip of garland running around the band of his sherriff's hat, with little red bows on it. "I'm Sheriff Taylor. Call me Mark."
"Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Call me Hotch." The Unit Chief said, then turned to the back seat. "This is Agent Jennifer Jareau and Dr. Spencer Reid. The others you'll meet when we get to the station."
"Alright!" Mark said happily, putting the car into drive. "Well, I'm going to go ahead and take you to the station and we can start going over everything. This weather's only gonna get worse. No sense in taking you to the crime scenes and risk getting snow bound."
"When it is supposed to die down?" JJ asked from the back seat.
"Overnight." Mark responded. "Should have some sun in the morning."
"Thank God…" Reid gasped from the back, and Hotch grinned at hearing the young doctor's teeth chattering.
"You okay back there?" Mark asked, chuckling.
"He's from the desert." Hotch grinned.
"Ah. Welcome to the north, doctor!"
"Yeah. Great. Thanks." Reid grumbled, and JJ grinned at him.
"Well, I really appreciate you folks coming out here to help us out. We're not exactly equipped to deal with a serial killer, much less one using dogs as his murder weapon… never heard of that one before. Makes you wonder where the hell he got that idea from!"
"Actually, in this one episode of 'Highlander: The Series', there was one Immortal who was using dogs to run down and exhaust the Immortal he was hunting so that they would be too tired to defend themselves when he moved in to take their head." JJ blinked and stared at Reid, and Mark looked at Hotch. The man just shrugged, smiling lightly in amusement.
"Sorry…" Reid mumbled, slumping down in his seat. JJ laughed and ruffled his hair, and they drove in silence for a bit.
"I hate silence." Mark suddenly announced. "Mind if I put on some music?"
"That's fine." Hotch said. "I would prefer to discuss the case when we're all present." And so Mark flipped on the radio. Elvis came on, singing "Blue Christmas".
"Does anyone object to Christmas music?" Mark asked.
"No, not at all." JJ said with a smile.
"… Did you know that—"
"Spence. Just enjoy the music. And the scenery." JJ shushed him, and Reid blinked, then obediently turned and looked out the window at the snow covered forests. Eventually the tranquility of the view, the soft Christmas music and the warmth of the car made him drowsy. Hotch blinked when JJ tapped his shoulder. He twisted around in his seat to look back at her, and she looked at Reid. Hotch followed her gaze, and smiled. Reid was slowly drooping, eyes sliding closed. Then he would give a small jerk and her eyes would snap open, showing startled awareness for a moment before glazing over and beginning to slide closed again. Shaking a bit in a silent chuckle, Hotch shook his head and turned to face the front again.
Finally, not quite an hour after they left the airstrip, the sheriff pulled into the parking lot of his small station. It was like a little log cabin sitting in the show. Christmas wreathes hung in every window, and the place was strung in twinkling Christmas lights and garland. Everyone jumped out of the cars and gathered their belongings, then turned to the sheriff.
"Alright! Come on in! The fire's goin', hot chocolate and coffee are brewing, and Ms. Snow and Ms. Partridge have it decorated all cozy like for the holidays."
"… Snow? Partridge? As in 'Partridge in a pear tree'?" Morgan asked, quirking his eyebrows. "You serious?"
"As the plague, agent." Mark grinned. "Wanna hear something even better?"
"Okay…" Morgan said, slowly.
"Their first names are Holly and Ivy." Mark chuckled, and then outright laughed at the looks on the faces of the team. "They are both big Christmas buffs, but we don't complain. Keeps things nice and happy. Come on in!" And he led them shuffling through the snow up to the door. They stepped inside, and their immediate thoughts were that Ms. Partridge and Snow were also big Martha Stewart buffs… they had gone all out decking the halls of the station. Every wall had lit garland draping along its borders with big red bows on them. The desks of the deputies were strung with tinsel and Christmas lights, and Morgan carefully stepped out from under the hanging light in the foyer, once he noticed the mistletoe
"… Oh my god… Garcia would LOVE this…" Emily grinned, looking around and admiring a sparkling Christmas tree.
"No kidding…" Rossi snorted. "I feel like I'll stick out like a sore thumb unless I put on a Santa hat."
"Are you volunteering, dearie?" they all turned and looked at a little old woman with silver hair and winged spectacles on a delicate little nose. A silver chain hung from the ends of her glasses to drape around her neck so if she were to drop them or remove them, they would not be lost or broken. The chain was decorated with numerous little charms. She was wearing a red and white sweater with a big green wreathe on it, and as they watched, red lights in the wreathe blinked on and off. She was wearing one of those obnoxious little jingle bells around her neck and more little bells dangled from her ears. She wore a bracelet that looked like a string of little Christmas lights. She even had a sprig of holly tucked in amongst her silvery curls.
"Uhhh… Holly, I presume?" Rossi asked.
"Correct." She said, plopping a Santa hat onto his head.
"Ms. Snow, the agents don't wanna wear the hats. OR the reindeer antlers." Mark said in amused tolerance, and sure enough, when the team looked around they spotted a couple of deputies sitting at their desks in reindeer antlers. The youngest deputy, younger than Reid, was being teased by another deputy as he was being forced to wear a red rubber nose with his antlers.
"Heh… that could be you when we get home, kid."
"Shut up, Morgan." Reid snorted, smacking Morgan's hand away when he went to ruffle his hair, then gave the man a look when he said, "Oh, they're playin this just for you, Pretty Boy."
Alvin & the Chipmunks Christmas was on in the background. And sure enough, as the sheriff had said, there was a fireplace in the station, and it was crackling merrily. "Wait 'til Ms. Snow and Ms. Partridge break out the chestnuts."
"… Seriously?" JJ asked.
"Seriously." Mark chuckled, leading them into the conference room where the fireplace was. The team was hard pressed to hide their delight when he let them know that the conference room was for their use while they were there, and Morgan said something about roasting marshmallows and weenies, triggering Reid's lecture mode as he went off of a talk about the nick names for Hot Dogs. He was promptly shushed.
"FBI?" They turned when a couple of deputies walked in, smiling.
"We are." Hotch nodded.
"Welcome to Vermont." Said the elder of the pair, and they handed out mugs of hot cocoa.
"Wow… and they say SOUTHERN hospitality is good." Emily said with a grin, accepting her mug. "Oh, and marshmallows!"
"There's a little bit of cinnamon and nutmeg in there, too." Said the young deputy who had been earlier wearing the red rubber nose. He grinned. "Ms. Snow always makes it for us like that."
"Wow…" JJ said after taking a sip. "Can we have her?"
"I doubt she'd leave." Mark laughed. "She's been working here since any of us were kids. For the younger in our numbers, since before they were born! She started here when she was twenty two way back when… And Ms. Partridge since she was seventeen."
"Seventeen?" Rossi asked.
"Her daddy was the sheriff back then." Mark said with a fond smile. "Dale was a damn good one, too. But I'm fully convinced that Holly and Ivy will be here til the day they die!"
"Don't even SPEAK of that!" The older deputy in the room gasped in exaggerated horror. "You'll bring the place down on top of us!" Several deputies drifting in and out of the room laughed. Obviously they were all very fond of their "den mothers", who were bustling around in the… full kitchen.
"… you have a kitchen?" Emily asked.
"This used to be a residence back in the fifties. Don Martin. He was a deputy. When he passed on, he left everything to the town, since he didn't have any family. So his home was made our new station. Conference room is the old den, living room is our bull pen," he indicated to the largest room filled with the desks of his dozen deputies, "old bedroom is my office. Guest bedroom was converted for our holding cells. It's not much, but it works for us."
"It's nice. Rustic." Hotch admitted.
"Cozy." JJ added with a grin.
"Anyway, we got the evidence boards you folks wanted set up here with everything we've got."
"I'd like to meet with the ME in the morning and see the bodies if that can be arranged." Reid said, walking over to inspect some new photographs of the messy wounds.
"Not a problem." The sheriff said with the nod.
"Rossi, why don't you go with him." Hotch suggested, and the eldest profiler nodded and Hotch briefly wondered why the man was still wearing the Santa hat.
"You got wireless?" Morgan asked, sitting down and pulling out a laptop.
"Uh, yeah." The sheriff said, and moved to bend over the keyboard. He tapped away, then straightened. "There ya go. You're in the network."
"Thanks." Morgan said.
"Any new developments since you sent us the case files?" JJ asked.
"Not much." Mark sighed.
"Do you require all owners to register their dogs?" Reid asked suddenly.
"… Doesn't mean they DO it."
"I know, but it may give us a starting point." Reid said, fingers fluttering a bit. "Do you know anyone who owns a large number of dogs, including shepherds, hounds, and possibly some pit bulls or another similarly sized bully breed?"
"I know a few folks who have dogs like that, but no one person who has them all." Mark confessed. "If he's got as many dogs as you say, he doesn't live close to anyone."
"So, we'll want to check out people in rural area."
"This is Vermont, Agent." Mark chuckled. "Pretty much the whole STATE is rural. And we're a smaller state, so there's no guarantee that this guy even LIVES in the state."
"I'm aware of the chances of that." Reid murmured with a frown. "Could I get a map of the local area and then a map of a broader area? Maybe the state of Vermont and a bit of the surrounding states."
"Sure. I'll dig one up for you." Mark said. Then, Ms. Snow and Ms. Partridge bustled in bearing some platters.
"Here you go, my dears." Ms. Snow said, beaming. They set down the platters. One was covered in crackers, and another was covered in slices of cheese and sausages. Two more platters with bowls went down. Once plate was potato chips with several dips, and the other was tiny little cookies and sweet dessert dips.
"These are all from the Vermont Country Store!" Ms. Partridge announced. "If you like them, I can give you directions to the nearest location!"
"They make fudge, too!" Added Ms. Snow, and the ladies left the room.
"Ladies, I don't think they're here to go shopping. And even if they were, the snow will make it quite the chore." The Sheriff pointed out.
"You hush, Mark!" Ms. Partridge announced. Mark just grinned and shrugged at the team, picking up a cracker and a piece of cheese.
"Vermont White Cheddar! Give it a go!" He said, and munched away.
After sharing equally amused glances, the team sat down to enjoy the snacks, hot cocoa and the fire, and discuss the case as the weather had indeed trapped them there at the station, not letting them get to any crime scenes, witnesses or the coroner's office. And soon it was time to head to the little inn across the street.
"Don't bother with their continental breakfast." Mark told them, grinning. "You'll have the best breakfast in the world right here at the station tomorrow morning, courtesy of our Den Mothers!"
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Thrown to the Dogs