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While JJ was introducing the case, Hotch kept his eyes on Reid and it did not escape the younger profiler's attention. It wasn't until halfway through the briefing that Spencer realized the source of his concern; A serial killer in Atlanta, Georgia who calls the police, explaining what sin the victim committed to deserve to be killed, before killing them. A copycat, copying Tobias Hankel’s work. Everything was perfect down to the last detail, the violence of the killings, the speed in which they were committed, the bible verses left at the scene. It was like He had memorized every piece of information the team had on the Hankel case and put it to use.

Reid sucked in a breath as he felt his heart sink to his stomach. At this point more than just Hotch’s eyes were on him, the whole team was staring at him in concern. He ignored them as JJ finished presenting the case. She finished with a soft smile and a glance between Hotch and Reid. “You don't have to work this case, Spence.” But Spencer just shook his head

“I’m fine, guys, it's been almost four years since Hankel kidnapped me. I’ve been through therapy. I can handle this.” He nodded confidently, despite his nerves being set on edge. The rest of the team nodded begrudgingly, except for Hotch, who kept his mouth in a tight line and diverted his gaze. “Alright, wheels up in twenty, everyone get your go bags.”

Reid began gathering the papers in front of him into the file and stood up to leave. “Except you, Reid” Spencer clenched his jaw, the last thing he wanted was more attention being drawn to himself. It would be easier if everyone just treated this like a normal case. Everyone filed out of the room, only Morgan stalling for a moment to make eye contact with Spencer and give him a reassuring nod.

Once everyone was out of the room Hotch circled the table to stand by Reid and helped him gather his papers into the folder. “Thanks” He mumbled, picking it up. Hotch nodded in response. “Reid no one will think less of you if you sit this one out.”

Reid knew that Hotch was trying to help him, but he couldn't help putting up walls. He refused to make eye contact and all he offered was a curt; “I know” before walking out the door to get his bag, probably quicker than he intended to.

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On the plane everyone tried to act as though it were a normal case, but Reid could hear Prentiss whispering to JJ from the other side of the plane and it didn't take a profiler to catch the constant glances Morgan kept sending his way. Reid just kept his eyes on the case file, even though he already had all the details memorized. He was starting to get a headache and he couldn't find the Tylenol in his bag, he finally gave up when JJ sat down next to him with a bottle in her hand. He didn't bother asking how she knew, you get used to these things when you work with profilers.

“Thanks” He said with a smirk. She returned his smile and nodded, brushing her blonde hair out of her face. He wordlessly opened the bottle and popped a pill in his mouth, swallowing it with a drink of water.

“Spence, you really don't have to work this case.” If it were anyone else Spencer probably would have gotten angry or snapped, but JJ always set his nerves at ease. “JJ, really, I’m okay.” He wasn't telling the whole truth, and it was clear in the slight shake of his hands and the way he nervously cleared his throat. JJ laid her hand on top of his and he noticed that hers matched his tremor.

“Are you okay?” Spencer seemed to be the only one that remembered that this case had been especially difficult for JJ too. She still couldn't be within twenty feet of a dog without choking up and freezing for a second. She didn't meet his gaze for a moment, he assumed she was turning over the question in her head. She never answered a question without being sure of the answer first. “I can handle it.” She responded, repeating what Spencer had said in the conference room. Reid chuckled and turned his hand over underneath JJ’s to give her’s a squeeze. He silently promised to stay with her this time.

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After the plane landed it was only fifteen minutes until the team was at the police station. Reid was lost in thought and spent every minute clinging as close to JJ as possible without being too obvious. He was successful, mostly, of course she noticed, but she was doing everything she could to stay near Reid, too.

They walked into the police station, practically holding hands. Reid stopped short when he saw the board filled with pictures from the crime scenes. He had looked over all of them on the plane, but, he just couldn't get past the exact sameness. It was like a find the difference puzzle but the game had been rigged. The same bible verse was left at the scene and everything; Revelations chapter six verse eight; “I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.”

Automatically his brain sorted through the different interpretations of the verse. While the killer was a copycat killer that didn't mean that he killed for the same reasons as his idol. In fact, the reasons were often very different. Tobias Hankel killed because his fractured psyche convinced him that he needed to, for religious reasons. He acted as judge, jury and executioner.

Copycat killers usually kill because they envy the fame that the original killer received. Hankel wasn't Ted Bundy but he definitely made a name for himself in Atlanta. It got out quickly that he had kidnapped an FBI agent and it was honestly only a matter of time until a copycat popped up. Reid noted that, if this unsub was out for fame, he wasn't going to stop at killing, he would go for the thing that gave Hankel a big name.

Spencer was shaken free from his thoughts when the sheriff put his hand on his shoulder. “Sorry you had to come back to this, Agent.” The Sheriff gave him an apologetic look before going to meet with Hotch to discuss where they would be set up. Spencer took a deep breath and tore his attention away from the crime scene photos, going to meet with the rest of the team.

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The copycat was killing faster than Hankel did, in the two days the team had been there he had killed three more times, bringing the total of bodies up to four. The team was stumped, he had killed more than Hankel had and they had nothing to work with. It had been three days since the last body was found and no one could figure out what his next move would be.

On a whim Hotch had JJ call a press conference to give the profile to the public. The copycat’s profile matched with Hankels more than the average copycat would match their idol. This unsub was introverted, probably didn't leave his house often. In all likelihood he only left his house to kill. He was tech savvy, not as tech savvy as Hankel according to Garcia but still Savvy enough to be recording the kills remotely and posting them online. Of course everyone considered that he could work with tech support but they had gone to every tech support company in the area and there were no leads.

Several calls had come to the station with people who matched their profile and one agent or another were sent to the callers house for more information. Late in the day, they got a call from a Lucas Grant who claimed his neighbor fit the description to a T. Hotch instructed Reid and JJ to drive to his house, which was only four miles from the police station, and talk to him.

JJ was silent on the way there and Reid knew they were thinking the same thing. Spencer thought back to the promise he made to himself on the plane. “We won't split up this time.” He framed it as a joke, chuckling as he said it but they both knew that he wasn't kidding.
Grant lived in a small house on roughly 10 acres of land mostly secluded from the rest of the town. The similarity to Hankel’s house sent chills down Reids spine. He kept his hand on his gun in the holster at his waist as he and JJ made their way to the door. JJ knocked “Mr Grant? It's the FBI, you spoke to us on the phone.” No one answered. The chill in Reids back moved throughout his body and he was about to suggest that they leave when they both heard screams coming from the field beyond the house.

Reid clenched his jaw and looked to JJ who had the same morose expression on her face. They both knew what this seemed like, but the screams were growing louder and if they waited for backup someone would likely die.

They raced through the field toward the sound of the screams. Reid did his best to keep JJ in his view but the weeds were so high and thick that he could barely move through them, let alone see. It was near impossible to keep track of her. By the time he had found the source of the screams she was nowhere in sight. Which, he realized, was exactly what Grant wanted.

The source of the screams was a laptop hooked up to a speaker sitting in the middle of the field playing a recording of a screaming woman. Spencer gripped his gun tightly and whipped his head around in search of...someone, the killer or JJ he didn't know. He didn't dare yell out to her out of fear of Grant hearing him but that didn't matter, Grant was on him in a second.

He came up from behind him and smashed the base of his skull with a gun, sending Reid to the ground in a heartbeat, his own gun flung from his hand. He quickly rolled around so that he was facing his assailant only to be met with a revolver in his face. His breathes were coming quick, replaying the scene that happened in the cornfield. Again, like a find the difference puzzle.

A grin spread across Grant’s face as he looked down at Spencer and it was so different from Tobias or Raphael that Spencer was pulled back to the present. Raphael never smiled, he thought he was doing the Lord's work, he was on duty, and Tobias didn't want to be there in the first place. Grant’s face was a look of pure victory and elation. He had found his prize.

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Spencer awoke in a room very different from the one Hankel held him in. It was bright, too bright, and everything was concrete. At least the floor was concrete, that was all he could look at. It was too bright to look up. He heard footsteps walking around behind him and everything came back in a flash.

“Where is she?” Spencer demanded in a weak voice, his head too painful to speak much louder than a whisper. “Where is JJ?”

The footsteps moved in front of him and a pair of dark boots came into his view. His question was met with another one. “Let me ask you this, agent; are you afraid to die?”

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The whir and click of a revolver snapped everything into focus. He quickly looked up, ignoring the sharp stab in his eyes as the light turned his pupils into small black circles. He was faced with the end of a gun, an almost exact replica of the gun Hankel had held to his head. What had the man asked him? He couldn't remember. He looked past the gun into Grant’s eyes and blinked, trying to hide the fear, but sure he was failing.

“I said” He chambered a round and the sharp click forced all the air out of Spencer's lungs, “are you afraid to die?”

Spencer's eyes darted around the room, gathering anything he could use to talk the man down. He thought back to the profile. This was a man who wanted to bring important people down, that was his whole goal. He wanted to break people. Similar to how Hankel wanted him to confess his sins, Grant would do anything he could to break Spencer.

His eyes finally landed on a video camera on a tripod, the red light blinked. He clenched his jaw tightly and met the man’s gaze again. No matter what happened it was imperative that Spencer not break, because as soon as he did Grant would be done with him. His only goal was to have power over people he deemed important, and who could be more important than an FBI agent? How better to gain power over him than bring him back to the worst moments of his life?

“No.” Spencer lied, forcing the quiver out of his voice. “I’m not afraid to die.” Despite his words he couldn't help but squeeze his eyes closed as Grant pulled the trigger with the gun still pointed directly at Spencer’s forehead. He only opened them when he heard the click of the hammer being pulled back again.

“Killers make the best profilers, Dr.” Grant said, surprising Spencer by almost directly quoting something many members of the team had said on different occasions. “I know that you are lying, so tell me again,” He pressed the gun directly against Reids forehead, “Are. You. Afraid. To. Die?”

Spencer couldn't stop his breath from shaking. His eyes darted to the camera, hating that his team had to watch this happen for a second time. How could he let this happen twice?

“Don’t look at them!” Grant snapped “look at me, and answer the damn question, truthfully this time.” Spencer looked at him. ‘He won't kill me, he won't kill me, he needs me alive, the gun probably doesn't even have a bullet in it.’ He kept thinking to himself, but knowing that and convincing yourself of it with a gun pressed against your head are two very different things.

“Yes.” He said, his voice sharp, “I’m afraid to die.” Spencer jumped at the sound of the hammer returning to its original position, expecting the explosion of a gunshot. He took a deep breath when Grant set the gun down on a wooden table to the right and about ten feet away from Spencer.

“Why are you afraid to die, Agent?” Spencer genuinely thought over the question for a second, he had no doubt in his mind that Grant would know if he lied again. Grant was smart, He went to college, he was a doctor. It wouldn't surprise Spencer if one of his PhD’s was in psychology.

“Because I don't know what happens after. I’ve died before, and I still don't understand what happened.” Grant seemed satisfied by this answer, Spencer saw him nod his head out of his peripheral vision. The man was still standing next to the table that held the gun.

Spencer jumped as Grant clapped his hands together. “You, agent, are going to be very, very fun.”

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From the other end of the camera Garcia, Prentiss, Morgan, Hotch, and JJ, who had called the rest of the team from the field of weeds when she lost Reid, were watching the whole scene unfold.

“How could I let this happen twice?” JJ voiced, mirroring Reid's thoughts. No one responded, everyone tense as they watched their teammate, tied to a chair, with a gun pressed against his head. Derek had one hand on Garcia’s shoulder, his grip a bit tighter than it should have been.

“He needs him alive, or his fantasy doesn't work. He needs to break him down first. That gun is not loaded.” Hotch said, deadpan, not much for comfort. As much as the rest of the team knew that to be true, one word hung in the air between them. ‘First’, he needs to break him ‘first’.

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Grant had walked out of the room after his unnerving declaration and turned the light off behind him. Spencer was left alone in the dark with his own thoughts. He did the only thing he deemed productive in his situation and started going over everything from the moment he had been kidnapped. Grant is methodical, he does everything for a reason.

“When I woke up, Grant was behind me.” He said aloud, closing his eyes despite the darkness around him, willing his mind to play back the memory. “He was behind me because he knew that not being able to see him right away would set me on edge.” It had.

He clenched his jaw as the next scene came into focus; Grant in front of him with a gun, almost a replica of the gun Hankel had used. Only now did Spencer realize how strange that was. Grant probably knew a lot of things about the case with Hankel, Penelope had discovered that he had hacked into the system, taking a lot of information with him; Spencer had had to recount everything that happened to him and it was all filed away in the database but Spencer had never said anything about what kind of gun was used, it was irrelevant. The recounting was for psychological examination.

Spencer filed away the thought, deciding to come back to it later as he processed other parts of Grants’ behavior. “He always refers to me as ‘Agent.’ or 'Dr.'” Having control over people in power is what gets him off, reminding himself that Spencer is an agent is important to him and affirms his fantasy. “If me having power is so important to him, I need to do everything I can to remind him of it.” Play into the fantasy to stay alive.

Spencer wasn't sure how long it was until Grant came back, he had tried counting the seconds but kept drifting in and out of sleep. He was jerked sharply into focus when the sound of a door opening led to the piercing light filling the room again.

“Agent!” Grant shouted as he clapped his hands together, further shocking Reid’s senses.

“It’s Supervisory Special Agent, actually.” Reid corrected, forcing an authoritative expression onto his face, although he couldn't help but keep his head down to shield his eyes from the light a bit as Grant walked in front of him.

“Is it?” Grant said, his voice full of mock surprise. “Well, my apologies ‘supervisory special agent’ Reid.”

Reid chuckled briefly and forced his eyes to meet his captors; “Dr.” he corrected again.

Grants’ eyes were piercing as he responded; “Yes, ‘Dr.’ but labels aren't so important when you're the one tied to the chair and I’m the one with the assortment of knives, are they ‘Dr.’?”

As if to further drive home his point he slowly walked to the table full of knives to the side of Spencer and picked one up, being sure to slide it across the tabletop so that it would make an ominous scraping sound.

“Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Reid” He said with a wide smile, walking back into Spencer’s view, “Hankel did not take advantage of the situation he was in. He was far too sick to see what he had the opportunity to do wasn't he?”

Reid couldn't help but glance nervously at the knife, his facade fully dropping. He cleared his throat anxiously and pulled uselessly at the bonds securing his wrists to the chair.

“What do you mean?” His voice was breathy and shook with fear, he couldn't draw his eyes from the knife. Reid thought this man had to be much more sick than Hankel.

“He had a government agent all tied up in a storm cellar!” Grant laughed as he turned the camera back on. Reid instinctively turned his eyes away from it. “A government agent! And he didn't think to get underneath all that power and see what he could do with it.”

A small whimper escaped Spencer’s throat as Grant advanced on him with the knife and slowly dug the tip into his collar bone. All the breath escaped his lungs at once and he clenched his hands tightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. He let out a scream as Grant dragged the blade across the length of each collarbone, leaving a dripping ‘u’ right under his neck. A wave of nausea hit him and he thought he might throw up as Grant took a step back, admiring his work.

“This isn't even the best part, Dr. You see I have all kinds of fun toys to use.” He mused as he drew another line down Spencers’ shoulder with ease, earning another scream, this one through clenched teeth. “But the best fun is the psychological pain.” He circled behind Reids’ back, returning to the table and setting the knife down. The sound of a drawer opening filled Reid with anxiety and he wished that he could just see what he was doing.

He prayed it wasn't what he thought as he heard the clinking of glass vials. “No please.” He murmured, just loud enough to be heard, hoping the camera wouldn't catch it. “I don't want it.” He shocked himself by repeating the same phrase he had used with Hankel.

“Yes you do.” Grant responded, his tone teasing as he knelt down beside Reid. Reid watched as he slowly filled a syringe with the liquid and tied a belt just above the bend in his elbow. He tried to fight, he wiggled around and pulled on his restraints but nothing worked.

“Please, not that, please!” He shouted, not caring if the camera heard him anymore. His pleads were futile, though. Grant easily slipped the needle into a vein and injected the drug into him. It took affect quickly and Spencer was dropped into a series of horrendous dreams and visions.

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After he was rescued he used almost every night, and then the dreams were good. Nights out with the team, nights in with his mom, but not here. Here, even hopped up on one of the most potent emotion numbing, world altering drugs you can get he still felt the innate wrongness of where he was and it infected his visions.

As soon as his eyes closed he was back at the BAU, but something was wrong. He could feel someone staring into the back of his head and when he turned to look his mom was standing there in a nightgown. She looked confused and scared. Spencer tried to stand up but as he couldn't move his arms and legs.

He looked down to see that he was tied to his desk chair, which had somehow turned into a wooden one. He looked up at his mom again and she was crying. He opened his mouth to reassure her that everything was okay but before he could she lifted a gun and trained it at his head. The words he was about to speak got stuck in his throat as he just gaped at his mother.

“How could you do it Spencer? How could you betray me?” She sobbed and the gun shook in her hand, he tried to look past it into her eyes but he couldn't, something about it was so familiar.

“Answer me!” She spoke with a new voice, and when Spencer’s eyes finally left the gun it wasn't his mother than was holding it anymore, but Hankel, with a gunshot wound in his shoulder. “How could you do it?”

He had no idea how long it had been when he came to, but he estimated 3 or so hours based on how long a normal trip for him was. When he awoke Grant was no longer in the room, and it was dark again. It made him nervous. When Hankel had him he was there almost all the time, in one form or another. He didn't like not knowing where Grant was or what he was doing.

He was surprised when he looked at the camera to see that the red light was still on, and must have been on the whole time he was out. He shut his eyes tight and looked away, disgusted with himself. He knew it wasn't his fault, he hadn't chosen to take the drugs, but he hated his team seeing that weakness in him. He wished Grant would come back, didn't care what he would do to him as long as he turned the damn thing off.

He soon got his wish, maybe 15 minutes later Grant entered the room and turned the lights back on. Still keeping his face turned away from the camera Reid looked down to the floor, but kept sight on the man's shoes.

“Are you still afraid to die?” His voice rang too loud into Spencer’s pounding head and he couldn't make sense of the words for a moment so Grant said them again, a whisper in his ear this time; “Are you still afraid to die, SSA Dr. Reid?” Reid flinched from the sound, Grant’s voice made him feel slimy.

He racked his brain, trying to think why that question would be so important to him. Everything else he did was as close a match as he could get it to Hankel, but Hankel never once asked him that. It was so hard for him to think with his pounding headache and the drugs still making his thoughts fuzzy and clouded. All he could think about was the red light on the camera, it seemed to be the only thing in the room.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and thought harder. Grant’s motive was to mentally bring down people in power. He wanted to undo them, but it only seemed to be so personal with Reid. He never filmed any of the other killings, something they had all been confused about. Why start with Reid? The answer hit him like a palm to the forehead; the other ones weren't even about Hankel.

Of course, it all made sense now. Grant must have been killing for ages, he has an entire room dedicated to it and it wasn't like Hankle’s, this one was cleaner and practiced. Grant wasn't a new killer, he had had an entirely different MO before Hankel, but Hankel had inspired him.

Hankel had managed to kidnap and torture an FBI agent, something Grant had only ever dreamed of being possible.

The question wasn't a part of Hankel’s MO, it was Grant’s, and it was about power. As soon as Reid said ‘no’, and said it truthfully, Grant would kill him. As soon as Reid wanted to die he would be dead. It was almost poetic in a sick sort of way.

“I don’t want to die.” Reid lifted his head to look Grant in the eyes. It wasn't what he asked, but it was what Reid answered anyway. He wasn’t sure if Grant would be angry or interested in his answer, but he wasn't shocked when Grant simply raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

“Not yet.”

Reid was certain he would never get the sound of his own screams out of his head.

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If Grant came once a day, Spencer had no reason to believe he did or didn't, but if he did, he had been there for seven days. Lucas started bringing him water each time he came after the fourth time, but he hadn't eaten anything since he arrived and he knew that he knew that he was sick with something. He had a fever and he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. He wasn't sure if he was falling asleep or passing out.

He tried to keep track of his injuries but he kept forgetting, he knew he had several gashes on his abdomen. Last time Grant came he had removed his shirt and the damp chill of the air around him was making him shake uncontrollably, the wet blood spilling from the new cuts along his ribs wasn't helping either.

He never turned the camera off now, and the confidence he had in showing his face as well as streaming the video terrified Spencer more than anything else. He was starting to think he would never be found. He knew that Grant wouldn't kill him, or let him die of anything, until he knew that Reid was thoroughly broken, and only Reid could give him that information.

He knew he was close, he didn't know how much more he could take. He hoped that Grant just wouldn't notice how sick he was and would let him die, but that hope was squished when Grant walked in and flipped on the lights. Reid was getting used to the way the sudden brightness stabbed his eyes, but he still couldn't look up from the floor for a few seconds.

When he did there was an uncharacteristic smile on Grant’s face, not the sadistic one he was used to, but the kind that a doctor gave you when you were sick as a kid. Reid was sure it was a ploy, trying to mock the dramatic shifts between Tobias, his father, and Raphael, but he wasn't present enough to even think about that.

He let Grant move his head back and pour water into his mouth, and when he put two pills into his mouth he swallowed them with the next drink of water without any fight. “What was that?” He asked after he swallowed, his words were slurred and his tongue felt too big for his mouth but Grant understood what he said.

“Tylenol.” He responded, his voice unusually pleasant. Spencer would have preferred his usual harsh words, this was unexpected and he didn't know what to make of it. “It’s to bring down your fever.”

Reid hadn't noticed until now, when Grant opened it and pulled out a granola bar, that Grant had brought a plastic shopping bag in with him. He unwrapped the granola bar and fed it to Spencer, who chewed slowly, afraid that if he ate too quickly he would throw it back up. After he finished feeding Spencer he grabbed the chair that was in front of the table of knives and other instruments and sat in front of Spencer.

He pulled a vial and a needle still in the wrapper out of the bag and Spencer closed his eyes and put his left hand into a fist. He had begun to relish this part, and he wasn't afraid to admit that to himself anymore. He didn't know if he was ever getting out of here, and if he was he could quit again. For now he would enjoy the one reprieve he had from the torment.

When the small pinch of the needle entered the gash on his ribs instead of his arm he almost jumped in surprise.

“Hold still.” Grant reprimanded in the same soft tone. Reid opened his eyes and watched Grants hands closely as he pulled out a needle and suture threat. He stitched up both of the gashes in Spencer’s ribs expertly after numbing them thoroughly and then continued on to one on his hip, two on his collar bones, and one on the back of his left shoulder. He pulled out a thick flannel from the bag and untied one of Reid’s hands at a time and helped him put it on. Reid didn't bother fighting, he didn’t have enough strength and he thought it might just get him killed.

Another needle pricked his skin, this one in the bend of his elbow. The last thing he heard before the visions took him was Grant’s voice, the sadistic tone back in it; “Only because the withdrawals would kill you, and you’re not ready yet, are you?” Spencer was vaguely aware of the tears falling down his face as despair overtook him. He didnt ask the question. Why didn't he ask the question?

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Hey ya'll, sorry it's been a bit since I've posted a chapter. My life has been really crazy with work and everything, I will definitely get another chapter out soon. Leave a comment, if you want, of where you want to see this fanfic go!

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The next three visits were like the last, though Spencer thought that they weren't as far apart as before. He guessed the four visits had taken place in the span of two days. Each time Grant brought more food than the previous, testing the limits of Spencer's stomach. On the second visit he brought vitamins, and then on the fourth as well. An extensive list which he read out the first time he administered them.
“Potassium, Iron, Vitamin D, Vitamin C, Calcium, and a multivitamin.” He had said as he handed Spencer a fistfull of pills, helping him take them with water. On the third visit he had brought an IV. He hadn't said what was in it, but Spencer suspected there was a low dose of painkillers along with the normal fluids. He replaced the bag again the next time he came.

The dramatic shift made the fifth time he came an abrupt shock to Spencer's system.

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The door slammed open with so much force that Spencer heard the cracking of the wood frame. Light spilled in from the hallway but the overhead light in the small room wasn't turned on this time. Grant stumbled in, almost falling over his own feet in an apparent drunken stupor.

He fell against the chair and leaned over Spencer’s face, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath. He was so close that Spencer had to push his head into the back of the chair to avoid hitting their heads together.

“Six weeks!” The words shot out of Grant’s mouth so aggressively that his spit flew into Spencer’s face and he instinctively tugged against the restraints around his wrists to try and wipe it away.

“Six weeks you've been here, and nothing!” He shoved Spencer's chair back, making it tip precariously for a moment before landing back on all four legs. He yanked the IV out of Spencer’s arm and shoved the equipment away. Spencer winced at the pinch but barely felt it in the face of the terror racing through his system.

Grant stumbled to the table of instruments and grabbed one seemingly at random, a small serrated knife with a wooden handle. Different from the others in that it looked more like it belonged in a kitchen than a torture chamber, but a blade is a blade to anyone sitting at the sharp end.

“Maybe I should kill you now, fuck it all! What's one failure in the face of dozens of victories?” He advanced on Spencer and pressed the blade against his throat. He held his breath, afraid that if he moved even a little it would pierce his flesh. His eyes were glued on Grant’s. They were wild and glazed over, Spencer had never seen him out of control before.

Grant stayed silent for a moment, breathing heavily, all of his muscles stiff as he returned Spencer’s stare. Suddenly he dropped the knife with a loud clang and fell to the floor after it. He put his head in his hands and started sobbing. Spencer was so shocked that for a moment he wanted to comfort him, then he shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked at the camera. The red light was blinking, then he looked to the door. It was still open, and for first time he could see to the other side.

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Hey guys, sorry it's been a while I've been in the hospital working on some mental health stuff. A new chapter is in the works, I am going to finish this fic if it kills me. I have to know where it ends up just as much as all of you I think lol. Please just bear with me while I go through what I'm going through

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Grant had passed out on the floor at Reid’s feet shortly after falling there. Reid sat stunned for a moment as he stared out the open door. He flexed his hands against the restraints to no avail. If he stood and tried to walk out still tied to the chair, surely Grant would wake up. Well, maybe, he was clearly severely intoxicated but Reid wasn't going to take any chances. With this new opportunity in front of his face his resolve was returning. He was still afraid to die and he didn't feel that he would change his mind any time soon.

The knife that had been in Grant's hand had fallen just by Spencer’s feet, but there was no way he could reach it with his hands tied to the arms of the chair. He clenched his jaw in frustration, freedom was so close and there was no way to get to it. His eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything.

He looked into the camera for a moment, the red light was still on and he was sure Garcia was on the other end watching, just like last time. He wasn't sure if the angle caught the open door or not. He wanted to say something but he couldn't think of what, so he let his eyes continue to travel around the room.

After what he thought was probably an hour of trying to figure something out Spencer finally broke. The only option was to break the chair. If he sat there and waited any longer Grant would just wake up and his only chance would be ruined. Breaking the chair would surely wake him up too but at least in this scenario he was caught off guard. It was the only hope Spencer had.

He took a deep breath knowing he really only had one shot at this and rocked forward on his feet, slamming the chair hard against the floor on the way back down. It successfully broke one leg, sending the rest of the chair falling to the unstable side. The fall broke an arm, freeing one of Spencers. He quickly pulled his hand free and untied his other one as well as his legs. He was almost there, he was so close.

“Going somewhere?” Spencer froze as the slurred voice rang out from behind him. He hadn't been able to see Grant from where the chair fell but he could feel him now holding a cold knife to his neck. It wasn't the one that he had dropped, that one was still by Spencer's feet. If he could just get to it maybe he could have a chance. Grant had a lot of weight on him, almost all of it muscle, but he was drunk and Reid was quick.

In a moment of nothing but adrenaline Spencer elbowed the man towering above him in the back of the knee causing him to fall to one side. He lunged forward for the knife, getting caught up for a second on a stray piece of rope but grabbing it before Grant had stood up again. Grant was between him and the door now. He could hear his heart beating in his ears and he was sure he looked like a caged animal.

Grant hadn't shown much emotion at all aside of pleasure at Spencers pain before today, but now he looked more than angry practically feral as he stood before Reid with a bruise on the side of his face from where he had fallen

“You're mistaken, Dr. if you think you're getting out of this alive.” Grant’s voice was hardly a whisper as he flipped the knife over in his hand and lunged at Reid. He was clumsy but faster than Reid had anticipated and before he could dodge out of the way Grant was on top of him. They collapsed to the floor together, knocking the air out of Reid and causing him to drop his own knife and become painfully aware of Grants against his throat once more and his breath hot on his face. The rage in his eyes was almost corporeal and Spencer knew Grant no longer cared if he was afraid or not.

Chapter Text

Lucas remembered every single person he had ever killed. He didn't need to keep trophies or videos to remember. Much like Spencer he remembered most things whether he wanted to or not. Some people took longer than others but everyone broke eventually and never before he did. He never lost his composure, never seemed less than perfectly put together.

Even his first kill was only a bit sloppy. He was worried about it being perfect, there was hesitation in his cuts and his words didn't flow. The man, well closer to a boy than a man but of age, had still been terrified. He had broken quickly, asking Lucas to kill him in only three days. Everything since then had been chasing the high of the first kill. He knew that's what it was, he read the research on serial killers and why they do what they do. The only reason he kept killing was because he wanted to feel the way he did the first time.

To him it felt like perfecting a craft, every time he would change something ever so slightly. Sometimes he would look at the way others did it to see if there was something he could be doing better. Of course that never really worked as most of the time those who were written about were caught, so their methods were obviously flawed.
Lucas had killed 19 men and one woman, though she was a mistake, before he came into contact with Spencer. All of them nearly perfect aside from one, the scar on his right forearm a painful reminder of that, but even then he had not come undone. He had subdued the man with ease and he broke shortly after, the crushed hope enough to kill him by itself.

But all of that became irrelevant as the blood started pouring out of Spencer’s throat just before the rest of his team flooded the room moments too late. None of it mattered when a bullet from an unknown gun embedded itself in Lucas’ back and he fell to the ground at Spencer’s side. He watched the quick convulsing motion of the agent’s chest as he choked on his own fluids as their blood mingled on the cold cement floor. His last kill and his first failure laid next to him in his final moments and Lucas knew that this was how it would end. He finally found someone unwilling to break and that was all he could ask for before he died.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: alternate ending

“You're mistaken, Dr. if you think you're getting out of this alive.” Grant’s voice was hardly a whisper as he flipped the knife over in his hand and lunged at Reid. He was clumsy but faster than Reid had anticipated and before he could dodge out of the way Grant was on top of him. They collapsed to the floor together, knocking the air out of Reid and causing him to drop his own knife and become painfully aware of Grants against his throat once more and his breath hot on his face. The rage in his eyes was almost corporeal and Spencer knew Grant no longer cared if he was afraid or not.

Lucas remembered every single person he had ever killed. He didn't need to keep trophies or videos to remember. Much like Spencer he remembered most things whether he wanted to or not. Some people took longer than others but everyone broke eventually and never before he did. He never lost his composure, never seemed less than perfectly put together.

Even his first kill was only a bit sloppy. He was worried about it being perfect, there was hesitation in his cuts and his words didn't flow. The man, well closer to a boy than a man but of age, had still been terrified. He had broken quickly, asking Lucas to kill him in only three days. Everything since then had been chasing the high of the first kill. He knew that's what it was, he read the research on serial killers and why they do what they do. The only reason he kept killing was because he wanted to feel the way he did the first time.

To him it felt like perfecting a craft, every time he would change something ever so slightly. Sometimes he would look at the way others did it to see if there was something he could be doing better. Of course that never really worked as most of the time those who were written about were caught, so their methods were obviously flawed.

Lucas had killed 19 men and one woman, though she was a mistake, before he came into contact with Spencer. All of them nearly perfect aside from one, the scar on his right forearm a painful reminder of that but even then he had not come undone. He had subdued the man with ease and he broke shortly after, the crushed hope enough to kill him by itself.

“Put down the knife.” The commanding voice said from behind Grant’s stiff back. He expected it half a second before it came. Had seen the figure in Spencer’s brown eyes. Grant scoffed at the relief he found in them. This wasn’t over, he would not lose.

“Are you afraid to die?” Spencer’s eyes darted back to him as he asked the question, fear quickly returning to them just an instant before the bullet met his back. He was still on top of Reid, he could see his blood leaking between them when he looked down and found the space under the pain to feel gratification at the agents struggling to get out from under him. He barely noticed that the knife had fallen from his grasp and was laying on the ground next to Spencer's head.

He met the agent's eyes one last time and smiled before the owner of the commanding voice rolled him off of him. He may be the one dying, but he hadn't lost. Spencer was still afraid, maybe he would be until the day they met again.