"What's up with you?" Cassandra laughs, moving to join Penelope and Elle near the kitchen space in the office. They both look amazing as ever, although Penelope has a flirty smile on her face that Cassandra has never seen before, and she follows her gaze to a man standing a short distance away. He's got blonde, shoulder length hair and a leather jacket, and is the farthest thing from Cassandra's type. "Ah. I see."

He slowly turns to face them, and Cassandra grins to herself when Penelope instantly gives him a wide smile.

"Excuse me." He starts walking towards them, and he's attractive, but still not Cassandra's type. He's clearly Penelope's though, and Cassandra makes note of that. "I'm looking–"

"Sean, hey!" Derek calls out from behind them, making his way into the office. "I'm Derek. You must be looking for your brother."

"Yeah."

"Right this way." Derek leads him up the stairs and into Hotch's office.

"Brother as in . . . that's Hotch's brother?" Elle gasps.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted." Penelope suggests, and Cassandra snorts, shaking her head.

"Am I the only one who thinks Hotch is more attractive?" She asks, meaning it in an objective way. She has a crush on the man's wife, not him. He's too much of a dad for her. When she doesn't get a response, she leaves the women to it, beelining to Spencer sitting at his desk.

"Hey, Spence!" She calls out, smiling at him when he looks up from his file. He's wearing a white button-up with a brown vest that brings out his eyes, and Cassandra gets distracted for a second, wondering how comfortable his sweaters are. Maybe she should buy more for herself. "Oh, um, Derek—my Derek, not our Derek—wanted me to give you this."

She fishes a medical study out of her bag, handing it over as he sits up straighter, looking intrigued.

"What is it?"

"No clue, but he said he wrote notes in it." She shrugs, moving to her own desk diagonal from his. "Apparently something you said reminded him of it. He said you can keep it."

"Tell him I said thank you, please." He requests, sounding pleased as he starts flipping through it. Cassandra nods, catching a few words: neuroimaging and schizophrenia, and bites back a smile. He's such a nerd, and it's cute.

Elle sits at her desk, with Penelope and JJ joining them, all three of them gossiping about Hotch's brother. A minute later, he rushes down the stairs, looking irritated.

"That's Hotch's brother?" JJ asks, just as surprised as the other girls were.

"Uh huh."

"I don't see it."

"Sean, listen to me." Hotch urges from the top of the stairs, and Sean slowly turns around. "All I'm saying is you're 25 years old–"

"You know what!?" Sean snaps back, pointing a finger at him. "Don't profile me, Aaron!"

"Now I see it." JJ states.

Hotch gives them all an annoyed look, and JJ is quick to flee to her office while Penelope freezes. Cassandra watches Hotch walk back into his own office, looking dejected, and frowns. She really doesn't like that.

Before she knows it, JJ is calling them into the conference room with a new case.

"Terra Mesa, New Mexico. Five dead, and all from Mesa University. No signs of sexual assault, and no sign of theft."

"Five 19-year-olds. Minimal defensive wounds." Derek notes with a frown. "One of them was impaled on a 6-foot wooden pole."

"Who'd wanna torture five college freshmen?" Elle wonders.

"They weren't tied up and no one escaped?" Derek asks.

"No single unsub could've exerted this much control over so many people." Spencer points out.

"So you think there was more than two?"

"I think we're looking at a pack." Gideon agrees.

"A pack?" JJ asks.

"Three or more that kill in unison, as in, nature of the group dynamic dictates the pack's survival is dependent on their ability to hunt successfully." Spencer answers quickly.

"And, as in nature, a pack will keep on killing until it runs out of prey or is stopped." Hotch adds.

"Stopped by what?" Elle asks.

"A stronger pack." Gideon answers.

₊˚⊹☆

"Sheriff, I'm Special Agent Hotchner." Hotch greets as they arrive at the crime scene. "These are Agents Reid, Gideon and Grey."

"I was hoping there were more of you." Sheriff Rhodes responds, looking around them.

"The other agents went straight to the station house to look at the victim's files." Hotch explains. "Has forensics had any luck?"

"County CSU went through for prints and trace evidence. They said with all the workmen trampling through here, looking at footprints would be a waste. Come on." He leads them inside, holding up the crime scene tape for them. There's a small puddle of blood on the floor and splatters of it on the walls.

"The bodies were almost completely skinned, yet there's so little blood." Hotch points out while Cassandra rubs her arms, hating this case already.

"Adult women typically have about nine pints." Cassandra sighs. "Adult males around twelve."

"I think I know why. The unsub avoided areas of skin on the wrists and the throat." Spencer tells them, and Cassandra steps closer, looking at the photos he's holding out. "Areas where the–"

"Veins and arteries are closer to the surface of the skin." Cassandra breathes, giving him a sheepish smile immediately after. "Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"It's okay. That's exactly what I was going to say." He gives her a grin. "They didn't want them to bleed out. These kids were skinned alive."

"Two cases of beer. Two sleeping bags." Gideon notes as they continue through the house. There's a table covered in Buchanan's beer bottles.

"There's a third sleeping bag upstairs." Rhodes tells them.

"Everything you need for a night of teenage romance." Hotch states, and Cassandra sighs. She'd done that: in another universe, this easily could've been her.

"It's unlikely the two couples brought a fifth wheel to take notes." Gideon says.

"Sheriff, it's possible there was a third girl here." Hotch explains. "A sixth victim."

"I'll get my deputies to canvass the area. See if anybody saw a girl." He nods instantly, and Cassandra is just relieved that he's not one of the officers who wants to fight their investigation the entire time.

"You said there was another one outside?" Hotch asks.

"Yeah." He leads them outside, where they find a wooden pole sticking out of the ground, covered in blood. "He was like the others. Coroner said from the amount of blood, he was alive when they impaled him."

"I know this is gonna sound strange, but the way the victims were flayed alive, mutilated, and now the impalement display of this last victim . . . these were all war rituals of the Native American Plains Indians." Spencer points out, while Cassandra keeps a distance from the pole.

"That mean something to you, Sheriff?" Hotch asks.

"I'll say, it does." Rhodes huffs out a laugh. "Everything you see around us is Apache land. This whole basin is a sacred burial ground. And was the site of a number of massacres, as I understand."

"So this development is on their land?"

"It was their land. But they didn't have the money or the inclination to build on it, so the town seized half of it."

Of course they did. Cassandra has to look away, knowing that her expression will give away her irritation. Saying they didn't have the money and instantly following it up with 'no inclination' is ridiculous.

"Yeah, last year, the Supreme Court ruled that cities could use imminent domain authority to seize and repossess undeveloped private land for private development."

"And now the town is looking for investors to build on the other half." Rhodes continues, and Cassandra grinds her teeth. "The Apache are fighting it, of course, in court."

As they should.

"Ever been any violence until now?" Gideon asks.

"Nothing like this."

"You know anybody on the reservation capable of this?"

"I don't know. Reservation's federal jurisdiction."

"Sounds like where we need to go."

As they leave, Hotch calls Penelope to see what information she can gather for them. At their car, he turns to the Sheriff. "Blackwolf?"

"John Blackwolf?"

"You know him?" Gideon asks while Cassandra slips her sunglasses onto Spencer's face, tired of watching him squint in the sun. He instantly relaxes, thanking her softly, and she just smiles back. She doesn't regret it even as the sun burns her eyes.

"Indian activist. He's been in a little trouble related to his activism, but nothing violent. Not around here."

"Should we call the reservation police and alert them?" Hotch asks.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Blackwolf is the reservation police."

₊˚⊹☆

"Jane Bear, these are FBI agents." Rhodes introduces them as soon as they arrive at the reservation's school, where a woman waits out front for them. "Gideon, Hotchner, Grey and Reid."

"It's nice to meet you." Cassandra smiles, shaking her hand.

"You as well."

"Miss Bear is the president of the Tribal Council and principal of the reservation school."

"President and the principal." Gideon gives her a smile. "Must be a busy woman."

"We're out here on our own, Agent Gideon. We all do our part."

"Well, it just makes us appreciate you meeting us even more." Cassandra tells her. "Thank you for taking the time."

"Is, uh, John inside?" Rhodes questions before she can respond.

"Is this about the Terra Mesa killings?" She asks.

"They just want to talk to him."

"John Blackwolf has done more to help his tribe than anyone. Hell, Jim, how many times have you called him in to find lost hikers? How many drunken campers has he tracked down for the park service? John is a peaceful man . . ."

"Who would not hesitate to defend his tribe with force if attacked."

"As you would do for your men, I'm sure." Cassandra points out dryly, turning to her. "We really do just want to talk to him. The murder happened on sacred land that was taken from his tribe. I think we can get a lot of insight from him."

"Bought." Rhodes mumbles, but Cassandra ignores him. She doesn't care that the land was purchased, and she's sure Blackwolf isn't focused on that distinction either. Jane Bear gives her a long stare before she finally nods.

"The developers have paid a lot of families to leave the reservation." They're told as she leads them into the school.  "So many families have gone now that we can barely fill a single class." They fall silent as they enter the classroom where Blackwolf is teaching.

"Forcing the Dene, the Apache Nation, to abandon their homes and live in government controlled internment camps." He's explaining as they enter, filing into a line at the back of the classroom. "Does anybody know the last tribe to surrender to the American government?"

"Chiricahua." Spencer whispers.

"It was the Chiricahua Apache." Blackwolf confirms. "And does anybody know the name of the last leader of the Apaches?"

"Geronimo." Spencer whispers again, as hands fly up in the classroom, a student giving the same answer.

"That's right. He was caught by the US Army five times, but the Ga'he had given him so much strength he escaped . . . each time. Samuel. Tell the men from the FBI who the Ga'he are?"

"The Ga'he are mighty spirits who dwell in desert caves." Spencer answers instantly, and Blackwolf does not look impressed.

"Reid! Is your name Samuel?" Hotch asks him incredulously and a few of the students laugh.

"Sorry." Spencer grimaces.

"Are the Ga'he good spirits or bad spirits?" Gideon asks, while Cassandra knocks her shoulders into Spencer's, trying to comfort him silently.

"They're both. Like man."

"I'll take over for you, John." Jane Bear tells him, and they watch as he grabs his coat, badge, and knife from his desk. Cassandra holds the door open for him as they leave, and Gideon starts the introductions once they're away from the school.

"Mr. Blackwolf, I'm Agent Gideon. These are Agents Hotchner, Reid, and Grey."

"You look like a college professor." Blackwolf tells Gideon, turning to Spencer next. "You look like his student. You two look like FBI."

Spencer gives her a betrayed look, clearly wondering how she was identified differently, but Cassandra is fairly sure it's all to do with her outfit and the way she carries herself. Also, she is five years older than him.

"We're with the Behavioral Analysis Unit." Hotch tells him.

"Profilers should know better."

"How's that?"

"We don't do massacres. You do."

"Me, personally?" Hotch asks him.

"Your government." He states dryly, and Cassandra tilts her head. He's not wrong. "See? Agent Grey knows. She's the only one not looking at me as if I'm a suspect."

"Mr. Blackwolf, we'd like for you to take a look at these photos and help us figure out how these kids were killed." Hotch tells him, disregarding his previous statement. Spencer pulls the photos out of his messenger bag.

"You're not asking because I'm a cop."

"No. We're asking because you're an expert on Native American culture." Gideon tells him, and Cassandra nods.

"The murders took place on what we've been informed is sacred land stolen from you." She tells him. "We'd like any insight you can give us before they occur again."

That gets him to look down, flipping through the pictures Spencer hands him.

"I don't base my opinion on pictures, Mr. Hotchner. I have to walk the ground."

₊˚⊹☆

They take Blackwolf to the crime scene, where Hotch suggests starting inside, because the outside has been contaminated from construction traffic.

"Of all the Native American tribes, Apache are most renowned for their tracking ability." Spencer tells them. "It's said they could track a man or animal through any condition by simply noticing the slightest disturbance in the environment."

"He's profiling the dirt." Hotch scoffs, but Cassandra shakes her head.

"No, I believe it. I mean, they have a deeper connection to the earth than we do, right? So of course they can use that to track people and make connections. It's fascinating." She breathes out, watching Blackwolf's every move.

"I notice you don't carry a gun." Spencer points out to him.

"21 feet." He answers simply.

"What?"

"Ask Agent Hotchner there. He's the real gun hand." Cassandra ducks her head, fighting back her smile, but Blackwolf gives her a sweeping look. "You are too. Although I imagine you're a little less so."

"Why do you say that?" Hotch deadpans.

"You both carry two guns." He states, and Cassandra raises her eyebrows, impressed.

"The maximum distance an attacker with a knife can close in the time it takes to react, draw your sidearm and fire is 21 feet." Hotch explains quietly to Spencer, following Blackwolf as he takes a few more steps forward, still staring at the dirt.

"Inside 21 feet, I win." Blackwolf states. "Outside 21, I have other options besides shooting a man."

"Like negotiating." Spencer nods.

"Like running."

"Why do you say we carry two guns?" Hotch asks him, turning to face him directly.

"Your right instep print's heavier than your left." He tells Hotch, nodding at Cassandra as well. "And since neither of you appear to have clubbed right feet . . ."

"You can't tell that from my footprints. There's no perseptible difference between them." Hotch scoffs while Cassandra stares down at her feet, impressed with how he'd so accurately profiled them.

"Your problem isn't with your prints. It's with your perception."

He moves forward, bending down at the wooden pole with the blood surrounding it, holding out the crime scene photo that matches.

"What do you see?" Gideon asks him.

"There's a saying: Once too much blood has been spilled on the same ground, that ground develops a thirst for it." He tells them, not looking over as Hotch rolls his eyes. "This is all consistent with Native American warfare rituals, but it's not Apache. Whoever did this carried out the most brutal practices of the Apache, Navajo, Comanche, Pueblo and Sioux. No one tribe ever did them all. Not like this. Real Indians would know that. This wasn't Indians. And if you want to figure out who did this, it might help to know there was a sixth person in the house."

"Why do you say that?" Hotch asks, closely following behind him as he walks them to the side of the building.

"Female. 90, 95 pounds. Size 6 shoe. Fallen arches. She was walking alone, when she was ambushed by two men."

"We also believe there were at least three suspects." Hotch tells him.

"Three? Yeah. Two over here plus at least six over there." He tells them, sounding unimpressed by their job so far. "Because while these two carried this girl, struggling to their vehicle to the East, at least six others ran single file to hide their numbers from the West."

"So you're saying there were eight?"

"At least."

"And one hostage." Gideon points out.

₊˚⊹☆

"Each torture ritual had specific religious significance, but only to the tribe that practiced it." Spencer tells the room as they deliver the profile. "It's highly unlikely that any one tribe would mix them altogether like this."

"Meaning?" An officer questions.

"Whoever did this obviously had knowledge of Native American culture but they had absolutely no practical understanding of it." Spencer explains further.

"What we know is this pack shares a singular vision. Whether they share religious faith, racist ideology, or political manifesto, each member of this unit has surrendered its individual identity to the group." Morgan explains to the room.

"It's the act of kidnapping that reveals the nature of this pack." Hotch adds.

"From the German Red Brigade to the Munich Olympics to Iraqi Insurgence. The act of kidnapping is a characteristic of politcal terrorist groups."

"We could be looking for a domestic terrorist organization like the Symbionese Liberation Army that kidnapped Patty Hearst."

"But these are Indians, right?" An officer asks, and Cassandra rolls her eyes, unable to help herself. How hard is it to call them Native Americans? Thankfully, no one is paying her any attention.

"I seriously doubt it." Blackwolf answers. "The torture and mutilation you see here are very confused imitations of warfare practiced by Native American tribes."

"Are you trying to tell us that Indians wouldn't be so brutal?" The same officer scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No. I'm saying that Indians wouldn't be so confused." Blackwolf answers.

₊˚⊹☆

Rhodes tells them about a group of people who are against the Apache getting their land back, calling themselves the American Defense Unit. Morgan and Hotch interrogate the leader, a man named Minton, who says that they don't need to get violent as they're fighting the Apache in court.

After, Penelope calls with a possible name for their kidnapped girl. They speak to the father, who is far too calm, who gives a press conference asking for his daughter back. While they suspect that he's involved somehow, they don't expect the call they receive from the kidnappers, stating that Griesen had paid them to kidnap his daughter.

The men are shirtless–to prove that they're not hiding weapons–and kneeling with their hands up on the road at the pickup location. Cassandra drives in with Hotch, and Elle rides with Derek, all of them rushing out of their vehicles at the sight of the men.

"Don't move!" Derek orders, nodding to Cassandra, who joins him on the other side.

"Hey, don't shoot!"

"Where's the girl?" Hotch asks, keeping his gun steady as Cassandra moves to handcuff them both, trusting that he and Derek will keep her safe. Neither of them fight her actions.

"She's in the van." One of them explains, and Elle quickly finds her bound and gagged, but otherwise unharmed. She doesn't say a word to anyone, simply staring at them as they get her to a hospital. Elle puts it down to shock, but Cassandra has a feeling it might be more than that. She seems void.

₊˚⊹☆

"Just tell me what happened." Hotch tells one of the men, sitting across from him in the interrogation room. He's wearing a white long sleeve shirt now, his arms crossed as he shifts around, looking uncomfortable. Elle has the other one, dressed in a brown plaid shirt, and both of their stores line up perfectly.

Peter Griesen hired them, knowing that they had records, and asked them to do a job under the table. He said Ingrid was in trouble, and he wanted them to follow her, grab her, and bring her to the motel. They questioned him until he gave them half of the payment, and ordered them not to harm her at all. They called Griesen after, and he said he'd come get her in the morning, but he didn't show up. Then, they saw his press conference. They didn't know about the killings until they saw it in the news.

"They might be the dumbest criminals I've ever seen." Cassandra sighs, rubbing the side of her face. This is ridiculous. "But they're too normal to have been involved in anything. I think they just really needed the money, and thought this would be an easy way to get it."

Dumb, but not their unsubs.

Gideon and Hotch move to Griesen's interrogation room.

"Why'd you kidnap your own daughter?" Gideon asks, sitting across from him and tapping at the side of his coffee cup.

"You kidnapped your daughter and coincedentally saved her life?" Hotch asks, standing next to Gideon. "Right now, at the very least, it looks like you had prior knowledge of the killings. And at worst–"

"I had nothing to do with the murders." Griesen says firmly, holding eye contact with Hotch.

"You paid Leland and Van Owen to kidnap Ingrid. Why?" Gideon asks.

"I want my phone call."

"If what you're saying is true, it seems likely your daughter was somehow involved in these killings." Gideon points out, getting Griesen to talk.

"She had nothing to do with it." He protests as Gideon stands up, quickly leaving the room without so much as a glance back. "You stay the hell away from her!"

"I want the names of all your daughter's friends at school." Hotch orders. "Boyfriends. I want her class schedule. I want–"

"Ingrid's very private!"

"We have five dead kids! Tortured, mutilated, and murdered. And all we have to go on is you and your daughter. Do the math!"

He rejoins them in the observation room, and they're quickly joined by Sheriff Rhodes. "Doesn't look like Minton or the ADU were part of it. My men have been looking at him and his friends. Checking on alibis. Nothing."

"The only thing I'm certain of is that Peter Griesen is trying to protect his daughter." Gideon responds, looking away from Griesen, who has his head in his hands. A moment later, Hotch's phone rings.

"Hotch." He answers, pausing to listen for a moment. "Like a prisoner of war . . . thanks." He hangs up, turning to them. "I need to see Peter Griesen's phone records."

Once he gets the information, he had Griesen brought to Rhodes' office, where he, Cassandra, and Derek talk to him.

"How long has your daughter been in a cult? About a month ago, you placed a call to a psychiatrist in Boulder named Dr. Richard Frank." Hotch tells him, looking through his records as he paces in front of him. Griesen won't look at him. "He's a deprogrammer and his specialty is getting kids out of cults. Your daughter joined a dangerous cult. And you couldn't convince her to leave, so you had her kidnapped."

"Now you're protecting her because you think Ingrid and her cult killed those kids, and you're probably right." Derek adds.

"There's, uh, been another killing." Hotch grabs the crime scene photos showing the murders of Minton and his family, along with the cop that had been stationed outside of his home. He walks over to Griesen, showing him the picture. "A family of five was slaughtered in exactly the same way as the Terra Mesa killings, and among the dead are three girls. Ages 5, 8, and 11."

Griesen looks away from the pictures, but Hotch keeps them held up as he continues speaking. "Legally, this could go a long way in distancing your daughter from the others."

"I'm a doctor." Cassandra says gently, speaking up for the first time. Griesen's eyes jolt to hers as she sits on the desk in front of him, keeping a kind smile on her face. "Ingrid isn't the first girl I've seen who has fallen victim to a cult. Right now, her behavior shows a traumatized girl, one who isn't in her right mind. A jury will see that."

"A case could be made for brainwashing or even temporary insanity." Hotch continues, nodding at her words.

"Mr. Griesen . . ." Derek moves until he's sitting right next to her. It's a good move, putting all of them on his level, instead of hovering over him and intimidating him. "We need you to tell us what you know about Ingrid's situation."

"It will help her, not hurt her." Cassandra adds, seeing the way he hesitates. "The sooner you talk, the sooner we can find the cult responsible and get your daughter the help she needs."

"It's all my fault." He breathes out. "Ever since her mother died, I've done everything I could for her. Somehow I left her vulnerable to these people."

"Given the wrong circumstances, this could happen to anyone's child." Hotch tells him. "Tell us what happened."

"Ingrid was in her first semester." He starts. "She started acting strange. She hardly visited anymore, when she did, she was . . . different."

"How? How was she different?" Derek asks.

"The way she spoke. She kept repeating these words. This jargon. I didn't know where she was getting it. And she just disappeared."

"Cults commonly have their own language." Hotch explains. "They invent or redefine certain words only the cult members understand."

"It's a way of isolating the members from outsiders." Derek continues. "It's a very powerful form of thought control."

"If you could help us identify some of the key words, perhaps we could get Ingrid talking." Hotch suggests.

"She said I was a trespasser." He tells them, sounding pained. "That I had no right to be here."

"In New Mexico?"

"In the desert." He clarifies. "She said Grandfather had taught her the ways of, oh, what was the word?"

The three agents share a look at the name Grandfather, knowing that will be important. Cult leaders typically give themselves titles like that.

"Um, Gahi, Gaji . . ." Griesen tries to remember, and they all realize it at the same time.

"The Ga'he." Hotch interrupts, and Griesen nods.

"Yes. Yes, that's right."

"Thank you." Hotch tells him, and all of them quickly leave to fill in the others.

₊˚⊹☆

"We're looking for the cult leader. Typically men between the age of 25 and 35 with a high level of intelligence." Spencer tells the officers they've gathered in the precinct. "Sociopathic underachiever with an extremely abusive childhood. And obviously someone with an interest in and affinity for Apache culture and rituals."

"Look for males with criminal records for lesser type crimes." Derek takes over. "Drug possession, petty theft."

"What about school records?" JJ suggests, and Cassandra smiles proudly. That's a good idea. "The victims from the first crime scene went to Terra Mesa University. Maybe the leader was there, too."

"Any students who studied Native American cultures would've been on his radar." Cassandra agrees, smiling at JJ. "College students, especially freshmen, are vulnerable to cults as they're often searching for their own identity. Often, it's their first step into adulthood, and they're less likely to be noticed as missing at first."

"We need to do it all." Derek states. "With this second strike, it could be a spree."

₊˚⊹☆

Cassandra accompanies Blackwolf and Hotch to the newest crime scene. They have Sheriff Rhodes meet them there with Ingrid, hoping to get information out of her. As they gather outside, Ingrid stays in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead and showing no interest in them.

"Sorry about your man, Jimmy." Blackwolf tells Rhodes, referring to the cop who'd been murdered.

"I appreciate that."

Blackwolf nods, turning to look at Ingrid. "That her?"

"She won't give us anything but her name and her social." Rhodes explains. "Okay. They're ready! Everybody out!"

As the crime scene investigators leave, Rhodes moves and opens Ingrid's door. He pulls her out by her arm, and she doesn't fight him. "Come with me. My friend wants to show you something." He stops her directly in front of them, and Cassandra makes sure to keep her face perfectly impassive as she stares back.

"Ingrid, my name is John Blackwolf."

"I know who you are." Ingrid answers calmly. "You're the son of Benjamin Blackwolf. The Chiricahua Apache."

"Come with me." He leads her into the house, not acknowledging the information about his father. Hotch and Cassandra follow two steps behind them. She gives no reaction to the violence in the house–the blood streaked on the walls, covering the pillow and artwork in a little girl's room, where they stop. She doesn't flinch. There's no sign of disgust or sadness.

"What do you think happened here, Ingrid?"

She looks around at all of the items covered in blood–trophies, books, horse statues–before she answers Blackwolf.

"I think three little trespassers met the vengeful blade of the tribe."

"What tribe would that be?" Hotch asks her.

"There are only two peoples. The Apache and those who trespass against us."

"You're not Apache, Ingrid." Blackwolf tells her. Cassandra can't imagine how he must feel, having this white girl claiming his identity when it has nothing to do with her. All of this while her cult commits acts of brutality in the name of his tribe, and their land gets bought out from under his feet.

"No. You are not Apache. Not anymore. Grandfather tested me. He sent me to the desert mountains to be blessed by the Ga'he. The Ga'he have brought Grandfather back to us to build his new tribe. To reclaim the sacred land for the Apache."

"Where is Grandfather?"

"Did Grandfather ever tell you where the name Apache comes from?" Blackwolf asks her harshly. "It comes from the Zuni word Apachu. It means enemy. And if Grandfather knew the first thing about the real Apache, he would've taught you to refer to us as the Dene. It means 'the people.'"

"Grandfather taught us that you and all the living Apache are like the Jews of old." Ingrid answers. "Lost and wandering the desert in search of their Messiah. And he has come!"

"The Dene don't believe in a Messiah!"

"You were lied to, Ingrid." Hotch interjects.

"The Ga'he said–"

"Don't use a word you don't understand." Blackwolf interrupts strongly. "The Ga'he are not magic fairies! They're not gods as you understand them!"

He reaches down and grabs one of the blankets, covered in a little girl's blood, and shoves it in her face as he pulls her to him. She cries out, but neither Hotch nor Cassandra move to stop him.

"This is not the blood of an enemy! This is the blood of a little girl just like you are! You've been fed bits and pieces of a culture you don't understand."

"You don't know!"

"What we do know is you've been manipulated and exploited by a very disturbed individual." Hotch tells her calmly.

"You are a liar!" She shouts, turning to Blackwolf. "You have disavowed your ancestors! Only those who dwell at the Deadlands deserve to live!"

The Deadlands.

Ingrid continues talking, completely unaware that she's given up their location.

₊˚⊹☆

"The Deadlands are on the Southern edge of the Western Tract." Blackwolf explains at the station. "You said cults like these seek out remote places, yes?"

"They like to isolate their followers and give them the freedom to create their own societies." Hotch answers.

"Okay. Got it." Derek hangs up the phone while Blackwolf nods to himself.

"It doesn't get any more remote than the Deadlands."

"How big an area is this place?" Derek asks.

"About 100 square miles."

"We'll need to narrow it down." Gideon points out, leaning against the back wall.

"We might just have our cult leader." Derek tells them, explaining what he learned on the phone. "A guy named Jackson Cally. He was expelled from TMU six months before the others."

"What for?"

"Drug possession. Terra Mesa was the last in a string of colleges. He studied religion and Native American culture in every school and he was in a seminar on Native American culture with Ingrid Griesen."

"That's how they know so much about me." Blackwolf realizes. "I've been a guest lecturer in that seminar for the past four years."

"If Cally's our cult leader, we need more information on him. Have Garcia pull every shred of Cally's life out of the system." Hotch orders, but Derek shakes his head.

"She's already pulling it."

"Do we know if he's still in the area?"

"He was arrested for trespassing on a bunch of motel properties. Breaking into unoccupied rooms. But his last known address turned up cold."

"Most cults don't have any legitimate means of paying rent." Gideon nods. "They tend to seek out abandoned, previously standing structures."

"Like Manson's Spahn Ranch."

"There's an abandoned motel off Route 29." Blackwolf informs them. "Right in the middle of the Deadlands."

"Let's go."

"I'll stay with Reid, and we'll pull as much as we can on Cally." Gideon decides, while Cassandra snatches Derek's keys, smiling when he doesn't protest. That means a lot to her: she knows that he prefers to be the driver. He's flat out refused to let others drive him before.

The sign outside of the motel advertises their 'colored TV,' really aging it.

As always, Derek is the one to kick the door down, and they rush through the building with their guns drawn. Cassandra covers Hotch, while Elle splits off with Derek, and they quickly find a man standing in front of a window, facing away from them.

"FBI! Don't move!" Hotch orders. The man has his hands clasped behind his back, and shows no sign of noticing them. "Put your hands out to the side and turn around very slowly." He moves his hands out, but doesn't turn around. "Jackson Cally. Grandfather!"

At that title, he turns slowly while Derek and Elle join them.

"There's no-one else here." Derek murmurs to them.

"Where are the others?"

"Hunting." Cally answers, looking amused.

₊˚⊹☆

Hotch is quick to put Spencer on speaker when he calls with information on Cally, all of them gathered around him outside.

"Go ahead, Reid."

"Simply another sad but unremarkable statistic, aside from the fact that he had an IQ of 189."

"He's coming for your crown." She can't help but tease Spencer lightly, hearing him laugh as Derek grins next to her.

"Any criminal record?" Hotch asks.

"At 18 he spent 22 months in prison for auto theft. I just spoke to the warden at the prison, said when he was there, he found religion and began preaching to his fellow inmates. He once convinced a mass murderer he was doing time with to beat to death an inmate that was threatening Cally."

"Ever since he was a child, this guy just survived on cunning, force of personality." Gideon adds.

"Spent 22 months in the clink, was released, and then bounced from university to university studying, you guessed it, Native American cultures."

"Okay, thanks." Hotch hangs up, turning to them.

"What's his connection to the Apache?" Blackwolf asks.

"Aside from taking your class, nothing that they could find." Hotch answers. "With sociopaths like Cally, there is no connection. If it hadn't been Apache, he would've found some other culture to attract and manipulate his followers."

"Like Manson, Cally has been forced to become an expert profiler of sorts." Derek tells Blackwolf. "He reads the people around him. He finds a way in. And then he brainwashes them to serve his needs."

"And the only way to figure out his game is to play it." Hotch continues. "I'm gonna give him exactly what he wants."

"What's that?" Elle asks.

"An audience."

₊˚⊹☆

They all gather in the room with Cally sitting on a chair in the middle. His hands are cuffed in front of him.

"Mr. Cally, I'm Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI." He introduces himself, sitting down across from him.

"You know, I've spent my whole life talking to cops and doctors." Cally states, sitting forward. "Something different about you. You're not just a cop, are you?"

"You're very perceptive."

"So what are you?"

"I'm a profiler."

"So am I." He grins. "Your colleagues respect you a great deal. Looking to you to find all the answers. Leadership is a grave responsibility."

"Well, they don't call me Grandfather."

"Well, in my tribe, Grandfather is simply another word for teacher."

"Did you teach your tribe to murder?"

"No, I don't teach murder. I teach love. Love of land. Love of ancestors. Love of the tribe. These trespassers poison the land. The Apache will soon remember who they are and they will hunt these trespassers off their land until no one but the Apache remain."

"You think you speak for the Apache?" Blackwolf asks, stepping forward and bending down next to Cally. "But you're nothing but a coward. And a coward."

Cally laughs, although Cassandra notes that he still doesn't look at Blackwolf as he responds.

"I haven't killed anyone."

"Do you think that your little tribe is going to wage a war with all the white people in this state?" Hotch asks as Blackwolf steps away from him again.

"Pretty soon, we won't have to."

"Why's that?"

"What's going to happen when the angry white men come to the doors of your children blaming you for the killing of their people?" He asks, finally turning to look at Blackwolf. "What are you going to do, call the cops? No. You're going to string them up. You're going to put their heads on poles and rape their women. Just like the savage animal you really are. Like the savage animal your father was before they put a–"

In an instant, Blackwolf yanks Cally to his feet and shoves him against the wall. Derek rushes forward, pulling him back before he can do anything.

Cally never stops smiling.

₊˚⊹☆

"Let me in with him alone." Blackwolf suggests to Hotch. They're outside of the motel now, reevaluating their plan. "I'll get him talking."

"You've done more than we could've hoped for." Hotch tells him, shaking his head. "You guys take Cally down to the Sheriff's office."

"You tell that man he's welcome on my reservation anytime!" Blackwolf calls after Derek and Elle, while Cassandra stays where she is. They don't need three people transporting one man.

"We'll give you a ride back." Hotch offers Blackwolf, patting his shoulder once. On their way, Blackwolf receives a call from Derek. The agents back at the station had realized that this is all about starting a war between the ADU and the tribe, and that their next attack would be on the reservation.

"The school is our most vulnerable target." Blackwolf tells them, giving Hotch a clear direction. In the backseat, Cassandra does a quick check of herself, making sure she has her knives, her baton, and her guns.

"Cally likes killing kids." Hotch states grimly.

Inside the school, Blackwolf speaks up when Hotch pulls out his gun.

"Put that away."

"What?"

"You don't need it." He states, turning to look at him. "Use your baton." Hotch scoffs, but Blackwolf is determined. "There are many paths to the same place. Trust me."

"Just so you know, you sound like a fortune cookie." Hotch tells him, although he puts his gun away in favor of pulling out his baton. Cassandra follows suit, pulling out one of her knives as well. They inform Jane Bear about the threat, and she takes the students into a different building, putting them on lockdown procedure. Cassandra slips her a knife, wanting to go with them but knowing she'll be more helpful outside of it.

They find the cult inside of a storage room, and there's something exhilarating about taking them out one by one, never pulling their guns. Blackwolf distracts them so that Hotch can get one, and he returns the favor for Cassandra a few minutes later. The lights are off, and they're relying purely on their other senses and each other, making their way through the cult quickly and quietly.

Cassandra quickly learns the amount of force needed to knock out a grown man with a baton.

In the end, Hotch does pull his gun and shoot one of them, but only to save Blackwolf's life when two of them enter the door behind him while he's finishing up a knife fight. While Hotch takes care of the man, the woman dead next to him, Cassandra rushes to Blackwolf.

"Are you okay?" She checks with Blackwolf, pulling her jacket off when she sees the shape his opponent is in. If he survives the next few minutes, she'll be surprised. Blackwolf only nods, sitting up to look at Hotch when he asks if they're okay.

"Just had to shoot somebody, didn't you?"

₊˚⊹☆

"He's dead." Cassandra announces, stepping out to join Hotch and Blackwolf on the front steps. There's blood on her hands and her knees, blood from the man she hadn't been able to save, but she's not too cut up about it for once. He was a racist man who planned on killing a school full of children. While she'd tried to save his life–she takes the Hippocratic Oath very seriously–she isn't exactly mourning his death.

Just in time, cars pull into the parking lot, and Derek is the first one out of his SUV.

"The children?" Gideon asks.

"They're fine. We got them out before they got here. We took out these four."

"Without firing a shot?" Spencer questions, staring behind them, where the four cult members are hogtied on the stairs.

"Captain America here shot number 5." Blackwolf scorns.

"You're welcome. Number 6 was cut up pretty badly and didn't make it." Hotch responds, and Spencer eyes the blood on Cassandra's hands with a grimace.

"At least I didn't shoot him."

"I think I'd rather be shot." Derek tells Blackwolf.

"There's an old Apache saying: You can take many paths to get to the same place." Hotch tells them, quoting Blackwolf, who smiles.

"Come on, Cas, let's get you cleaned up." Derek sighs, tossing an arm around her shoulders. He leads her to the bathrooms, where he leans against the wall and watches her scrub at her hands and arms, grimacing at the familiar feel of blood on them. In a strange way, it's relaxing and comforting, a reminder that she's still alive.

On their flight back, Spencer tries to give her her sunglasses back, and she laughs as she pushes them back to him.

"Keep 'em, they look pretty on you." She winks, meaning the words, and delights in the blush she gets in return. Derek instantly starts teasing him, and she leans back on the couch to watch them go back and forth with each other, perfectly content.

authors note
the amount of times they say "the indians" in this episode makes me cringe so i changed a lot of the dialogue bc no. just no. it's one thing for a native american person to call themselves that, and another for anyone else to. one of my best friends is native american and you wouldn't believe the amount of discrimination she deals with on a daily basis, with that title being a major one.

i do love the dynamic between hotch and blackwolf in this episode. hotch did NOT enjoy being profiled, but he grew to respect blackwolf. also, i love that he reconciled with his brother and wish we saw more of him later on. that's such a waste.

i've said it before, but truly, thank you so much to everyone reading and commenting. it inspires me so much and i appreciate all of it!

we're so close to the season finale and i am SO EXCITED! i have so much planned.