To the Bitter End

The Beginning of the End: Part One

Had I known we were going straight from a case in Alaska to Florida, I would've packed better. Way better. Especially considering the differences in climate between the two, which Sloane had been babbling about for over an hour. The rest of us, Briggs, Sterling, Michael, Dean, Lia and I were going over the victimology we had so far.

"Victim number one, Cleo Lindon, a twenty-eight year old bartender, born and raised in the bright, sunny, city of-" Sloane cut Dean off before he could finish.

"Tampa. A city known for its booming business centers, museums and cultural offerings. The temperature there should be about eighty-degrees, the average price for a three star hotel is $113 and the zip code is 33637, and-" Dean stepped in.

"Victim number two, Demarco Clay, a forty-year old dentist, victim number three, Caige Barnes a twenty-six year old scuba instructor who just move to the keys-"

"He has the right idea." Muttered Michael.

"And last but not least, victim number four. Cecil Aberforth, a fifty-five year old soccer coach."

"All of the victims were strangled with some kind of nylon string, which goes to show the physicality of the unsub. Subduing a fit guy like Caige Barnes would've been difficult, even with the element of surprise."

"Or he could be a smooth-talking stud like myself." Michael added, with a completely straight face. I rolled my eyes and tried to hold back a laugh. From the front of the plane, Judd snorted, which I believed to be a chuckle in disguise.

"Anyway," Sterling tried to say before we got too off topic. "The unsub is crossing race, gender, and socioeconomic lines in his victims. He clearly doesn't have a type." For some odd reason, Lia had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since we found out Miami was our next destination, and I couldn't figure out why. She was usually the one to challenge Michael on his little jokes and jabs.

"Hey," Dean said, obviously coming to the realization that I had. "Lia?" Lia was sitting in the chair with her knees pulled up to her chest, with lost eyes staring out of the airplane window. There was nothing to look at, as it was about two in the morning.

"Huh?" Lia said. She blinked. "I'm sorry, did I fall asleep to Sloane again?"

"No, you weren't sleeping." Sloane replied brightly. She clearly didn't get the situation.

"Lia," Dean said with a sigh. "What's up?"

"Nothing," She said with a convincing face. She looked around at everyone staring at her. "I'm serious." She said under her breath.

"Lia," Sterling said, "If this is about Madison, I-" Lia's face went completely white. Her eyes grew wide as she tried to shake the look off of her face away.

"Who's Madison?" Dean dared to be the first to ask.

"The fourth president of the United States, the capital of Wisconsin, the-" Michael reached across and whispered in a harsh tone in Sloane's ear. "Not the time."

Lia tried to speak but nothing came out. She closed her mouth and bit her lip. She shrugged.

"Nobody important." She said, her voice wobbly. Everybody could see how much it pained her to say that. Briggs tried to distract everyone, and shot Sterling a look.

"When we land, we'll be headed to a beach house on the coast of Miami. We should get some sleep. We have a lot of work to do. There are four bedrooms in the house, so I'm thinking Cassie and Sloane, Michael and Dean if they promise not to kill each other, Lia and Sterling," He then realized his mistake. "Scratch that. Uhh okay. How about Sloane and Lia, Michael and Dean, Cassie and Sterling, and then Judd and me. Cool?" Everyone nodded, and didn't dare to disagree with the arrangements.

When the plane landed, Lia had been dead silent all through the drive to the house. It was a rather humble abode, but stunning nonetheless. It had an old Spanish vibe and a concrete pathway decorated with flowers. There was a gentle breeze flowing through the air, and the sound of the ocean could be heard from inside and out. I headed up the creaky wooden stairs to the bedrooms. As I passed the room meant for Michael and Dean, I could see them in their swimsuits. I stopped, stepped a few paces back, and walked right in.

"What are you two up to?" I said, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Dear Cassie," Michael said in a motherly tone. "Could it be more obvious?"

"We are hitting the waves." Dean blurted out.

"I'm going to!" Sloane called out from under Michael's bed. She crawled out.

"I'm checking for mice!"

"Lovely," I responded. "I think I'll be joining you."

About ten minutes later, we had snuck out of the house and into the water. The refreshingly cool waves felt good against my aching body from the plane. I dove in and groped the sand with my hands. It was soft, yet grainy. As I came up for air, I turned to see Michael and Dean wrestling in the surf. I grinned. It was nice to see the two of them having a good time. I looked all around me, but Sloane was nowhere to be found. My heart stopped.

"Sloane?" I called out into the watery abyss.

"Over here Cassie!" I let out a sigh of relief. She was crouched down, examining some of the washed up sea life. I ran towards her, not neglecting to splash Michael in the face on my way over.

"This means war!" I heard him say, before he took me down into a wave. The "attack" surprised me, as I didn't have time to prepare myself for the mouth full of seawater that quickly went inside. I came up choking and spatting water.

"Ohhh you're gonna get it, Townsend." Dean said cocking his head to the side. As the two of them wrestled on, I noticed the waves getting considerably larger.

"Okay, you two." I said when they came up for air. "We should probably find Sloane and head in."

"Where is Sloane?" Dean asked. That was a good question.

"She's over by the rocks looking at what appeared to be a jellyfish cut in half." I responded, noticing Dean's cringe when I mentioned the impaled sea life.

"There she is!" Michael pointed to a shadowed figure in the distance. She was still crouched down, but there was a monster wave forming on the horizon, with Sloane in its path.

"SLOANE! LOOK OUT" Michael yelled, pointing to the large wave, coming forward and growing quickly. She turned towards us, but it was two late. The wave crashed over the rocks and swept up Sloane. Dean's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, but Michael was already on the move, running crazy fast down the beach, kicking up sand in his path. As the wave receded, Sloane was left on the beach, sprawled out, and choking up water. She had a gash on the side of her arm where the rocks had cut her. Micheal helplessly knelt down and tried to help her. Just then, Dean and I turned to see two, very unhappy figures on our house's porch, belonging to Briggs and Sterling.

"Oh no." I said, but my attention was still drawn towards Sloane.

"We're screwed," Dean said.