21. hold on

Photographs lined the walls behind the body, put on display like some twisted sense of artwork. Blood had seeped into the carpet, staining it crimson red. There was a message on the wall, written in big, block letters— the word, 'Mine,' dripping down the pale, yellow pigment of the wall in thick, douse droplets of black paint, bleeding onto the plasticity of the eerie photographs.

The sound of a door slamming shut behind you could've been heard for miles, breaking the drift of silence wafting through the BAU. No one was there besides the team and Anderson, the sun barely peeking in from the windows— it was, after all, only five in the morning. No one was supposed to be there yet.

"Reid!"

That was the next thing that you heard. Hotch's voice calling out to Spencer as he stormed into the conference room. His eyes landed on you, cold, his body stiff with rage. "(Y/N)." Even his voice was bleak. He didn't sit. He just stood there, looking at you. "Go."

"Reid." Hotch came into the room finally, the chilled look in his eyes softer than usual. "You don't need to be here for this."

"Yeah, well, I want to be."

"Kid," Morgan said, looking at him, "you really don't-"

"-Can we just let (Y/N) do her fucking job? Please? Is that so hard to do?" Spencer glared at Morgan as he balled his hands into fists. You couldn't blame him for his reaction— anyone would probably act like that after hearing what you knew Hotch had just told him. Hotch hadn't let anyone in the room when he told him. He felt it was something that needed to be shared in private and you all agreed.

Spencer looked over at you and you looked back at him, sympathy in your eyes. "Present the case, (Y/N)," he ordered you.

Your eyes flicked to Hotch and he nodded at you. He didn't sit either. He just stood beside Spencer, his arms held at his sides, ready to console Spencer if needed. "William Reid," you spoke, your voice quiet as you hit a button on the remote in your hand, bringing the crime scene photos up on the screen. Spencer didn't react. He was cool. Composed— as the pictures flashed across the screen behind you.

"He was found dead in his apartment early yesterday morning stabbed, um... stabbed seven times," you said. "The coroner determined that it was the second stab that killed him. It hit his heart, so... he didn't suffer for long."

"And the pictures?" Spencer quickly asked, motioning to the screen behind you. It wasn't good for him to be in there as you were presenting the case. You knew that— the entire team knew that.

The room was silent, though, as you cleared your throat, looking around at the team. You couldn't stand to look at Spencer anymore, the latent pain in his voice and in his eyes too much. "There were, uh... photos. Photos of, um..."

"Go on, say it," Spencer said to you, his voice thick. You looked at him, pleading with him with your eyes to leave. But he stayed put. He didn't move. He just stared at you, expressionless.

"Photos of Spencer were discovered all around the room," you said finally. "Far away shots, none of them were close up. But, uh... they're all of him. With the same haircut. That's how they determined that they were all from the past year."

"And the message on the wall?" Morgan's voice was hesitant as he spoke.

"It said, 'Mine.' CSI determined that it was black paint that was used," you replied.

"That and the photographs alone give us all the information that we need. It's a, um... It's a stalker," JJ said, closing the case file laid out before her. "But why go to the lengths of killing William?"

"I mean, is it really that hard to figure it out, Jennifer? It was to get my attention," Spencer spoke harshly to her.

"Reid. Come on, now, man," Morgan chided him softly.

"If all the photographs are from the past year, we should take a look at what Reid was doing a year ago that could have attracted someone's attention," Hotch announced.

"Yeah, probably nothing to deserve this bullshit," Spencer mumbled under his breath, kicking his foot out bitterly.

"Spencer," you called to him softly.

"What, (Y/N)?" He looked up at you, his eyes full of rage as you looked back at him, shocked. "What the fuck do you want?"

You looked at him for a moment, stunned. You knew this wasn't him. He was just mad— who wouldn't be after finding out that they had a stalker who had also murdered someone they're related to? "I think we should tell them." Your voice was meek, afraid that if you spoke too loudly, Spencer would explode on the spot.

"What- What should we tell them?" Spencer asked, waving his arms at you. It didn't take him long to figure it out, though. He glared at you, pointing his finger at you as he said, "No."

"Tell us what?" JJ asked.

"Spencer-"

"-No, (Y/N)."

You didn't care. Not right now— not with what was going on. "I got something. A picture," you said, looking around at the team.

"(Y/N)-"

"-It was of me and Spencer. It was left on my desk," you continued, ignoring Spencer as he glared at you, a newfound darkness in his eyes that you'd never seen before. "Someone must've put it there while we were on the case."

"Did anything come with the picture?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah. A message. It said, um... 'I know about you.'"

"Jesus Christ, (Y/N)," Spencer murmured as he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes furiously.

"What did the picture entail?" Hotch questioned you.

"Uh... We were—" You paused, flicking your tongue out over your lips. Come on, (Y/N). No one cares right now— "kissing. In the picture, um... It was at an aquarium that we visited in Las Vegas and it said, 'I know about you.'"

Spencer slammed his hand into the door behind him, shooting you an irate look before whirling around and storming out of the room. You watched him go, Rossi's voice a million miles away as he said, "We should take into account that this might be someone who is jealous of the relationship, then. That could explain the message left on the wall. Someone thinks that you're trying to take him away from them."

"(Y/L/N)." You looked over at Hotch as you gulped. "At some point, we are going to need to discuss the details of your relationship with Reid in case it is someone who is jealous of you," he told you.

"Yes, sir. I- I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, pretty girl," Morgan said to you. "Just go after him."

You nodded your head at Morgan before setting the remote in your hand down, your heels clacking against the tiles as you ran after Spencer, wrapping your arms around yourself. You felt sick. You wanted to throw up— maybe even scream. This can't be happening. That had been your initial reaction when you first heard. Because there was just no way, right? There was no way that this was happening.

You were dreaming. You had to be! You were just caught in the middle of some ghastly nightmare but you were going to wake up soon.

Right?

You found Spencer standing by the elevators. He looked at you, rolling his eyes before he reached out, hitting the call button for the elevator a second time. "Spencer," you said softly, grabbing his wrist. "Come on. You know that was the responsible thing to do."

"Yeah, well, (Y/N), I just think that sometimes you need to learn how to shut your fucking mouth," Spencer grumbled to you.

"Don't," you said, shaking your head at him. "Don't take this out on me. I'm just trying to help you."

"Yeah, well—" He grabbed your wrist, pulling you off of him— "maybe I don't need your fucking help."

The elevator doors slid open and Spencer walked in, pressing the button for the lobby floor. "Do the words, 'you have a fucking stalker out there looking for you,' mean nothing to you?" You asked him, crossing your arms.

"I'm not stupid, (Y/N). I have a gun."

That was the last thing he said to you before the elevator doors shut, separating you from him, leaving you standing there, alone.

~~~

The sun rose high in the sky, sunlight streaming in from the oval windows, spilling onto the carpeted floor of the jet. Spencer sat in the furthest seat away from everyone, refusing to speak to anyone as the aircraft soared high in the sky to Vegas. No one spoke, no one even moved, until you were close to landing and Hotch cleared his throat. "When we land," he said, looking around at the team, "Dave, you and Morgan go to the crime scene. See what you can gather from there. JJ, go to the morgue. See what the M.E. can tell you. Reid, I want you-"

"-I wanna go to the crime scene," Spencer spoke quickly over him, crossing his arms.

Hotch looked at him for a moment, speechless. "No. I'm not gonna do that."

"No, I wanna go. I wanna see what this sick bastard did," Spencer argued back.

Hotch didn't say anything. He just stared at Spencer for a moment until he looked over at you, your heart racing inside your chest. "Then (Y/L/N) is going, too," he said.

"I don't need a babysitter," Spencer spat at him.

"(Y/L/N) goes or you don't go at all," Hotch snapped, looking over at him. "Do I make myself clear?"

Spencer scoffed, shaking his head to himself. "Yes, sir. Crystal clear."

"(Y/L/N)." Hotch looked over at you, motioning for you to follow him. "Come with me." You stood from your seat, smoothing your hands nervously over your pencil skirt before following Hotch to the back of the jet.

He looked at you, holding out a gun and a holster to you, your eyes widening as you looked at it. "The director approved my request. This is yours," he said. "I want you to have it on you at all times; especially if the unsub is jealous of you."

You took the gun from him, strapping it onto your belt before you looked up at Hotch. "Thank you," you said softly, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"How long has this been going on?" Hotch asked, raising his brows at you.

"About six months, sir," you replied, a small blush creeping onto your cheeks.

"And you've just been seeing each other?"

You nodded your head. "Yes, sir."

"There's a chance that this unsub might come after you," Hotch said. He motioned to the gun strapped to your hip. "I know you're not used to carrying one around but do not under any circumstances take that off. I'm sending you to the crime scene because I know you'll keep Reid calm."

Your eyes flicked to Spencer, staring out his window, cupping his chin in his hand. "I've never seen him like this," you whispered, looking up at Hotch.

"He's just not sure how to feel right now."

"I know."

"You'll look out for him?"

"Yes, sir."

Hotch patted your shoulder before walking back over to his seat, sighing as he slid into the row, folding his hands in his lap. You stood there, leaning your head back against the wall behind you as you sighed, hugging yourself. This is a dream, you said to yourself. This is a dream. This is all just a dream. I'm gonna wake up soon. This has to be a dream.

That's what you keep telling yourself anyway.

~~~

The jet landed twenty minutes after that and you, Morgan, Rossi, and Spencer all piled into one of the SUVs. You drove in silence, not one of you knowing what to say— if there was anything to say. At one point, you looked over at Spencer sitting beside you. He looked so empty, so unsure of what to feel. You reached out, brushing your hand against his until he quickly pulled his away, turning away from you completely.

You got to the crime scene, the four of you climbing up the steps to the apartment, blocked off with yellow caution tape. Morgan lifted the tape, letting you, Spencer, and Rossi in first. Your eyes widened as you looked around at the crime scene. It looked different from the photographs— worst, almost. The room was covered in photos of Spencer. Eating, laughing, talking, or doing nothing at all. Driving to and from work, grabbing coffee from the local coffeehouse by his apartment, or just with someone from the team.

There were pictures of you, too. Pictures of you and him together. They were all clustered around the word, 'Mine,' that appeared to be much bigger than you thought. The word screamed at you, making your heart pound inside your chest, your hands trembling with fear. The body had already been taken to the morgue but the scent of blood still remained. The room reeked of iron and dead tissue, overwhelming your senses.

You heard a cough beside you, looking up at Spencer, holding one hand over his mouth, the other on his stomach. You reached out, touching his shoulder. "Spencer?"

He whirled around and ran out of the room. You exchanged panicked looks with Rossi and Morgan before taking off after him, calling, "Spencer!" You found him standing at the end of the hall, placing his hand on the wall beside him as he leaned over and vomited onto the carpet, clutching his stomach. You ran over to him, placing your hand over his back as he gagged loudly, panting as he stood up straight, shaking his head. "Are you okay?" You asked, rubbing his back.

"Get off me," he grumbled, pushing your hand away from him.

"Spencer-"

"-God, would you just stop already!?" Spencer cried, looking at you.

"I'm just trying to-"

"-Help!? Yeah, I know. Well, guess what, (Y/N), you're not fucking helping!" Spencer hit his hand against the wall as he glared at you. "My dad's fucking dead, (Y/N)! I have a fucking stalker. Nothing you do or say is going to help me right now!"

This isn't him. This isn't Spencer. You had to remind yourself of that as he paced the hall, mumbling expletives to himself under his breath. He was just mad and he needed someone to take his anger out on. And if it had to be you, then so be it. You could take it. "You know what?" Spencer scoffed, shaking his head at you. "This is your fault."

"My fault?"

"I knew it was a mistake getting into this with you! Yet, somehow, I did it anyway, and, now, my dad is fucking dead and it's all your fault," Spencer spat at you, "because you're so fucking needy and can't go one second without listening to me for once!"

"Listening to you? What are you talking about? You're the one who agreed to show me," you told him, your voice calm despite the deafening sound of your heart completely fucking shattering inside your chest.

"It was all just a huge fucking mistake and it never should've happened," Spencer said to you. "And that's why we're over."

"Over?"

"Do I really need to repeat myself!? We're done, (Y/N)! I don't want anything to do with you anymore! This thing between us— it's over!" His words sent a shockwave pulsing throughout your body, tears pricking your eyes as you looked at him. Spencer glared back at you, tears of his own forming in his eyes as he balled his hands into fists. He choked on a sob before turning his back to you and rushing out of the room, leaving you there, standing all alone all over again.

That's what you thought was going to happen. You thought that was the last you were going to see of Spencer. Until that night, when you heard a knock on your hotel door, and you opened it, finding Spencer standing there. Neither one of you spoke, just gazing at each other until Spencer choked on a loud sob and fell forward into your arms, burying his face in your neck as he started to cry.