A/N: This is my first attempt at Criminal Minds fanfiction, so this might be a little ooc. Reid is a seriously hard character to write, so bear with me. I left the unsub vague on purpose because I'm not a psychologist, nor do I have any background in the subject, so to avoid glaring mistakes, I'm leaving it up to your imaginations. I did try to come up with an explanation, which I will post in a later chapter (if you want it now, just review or PM).

warning: this first chapter is a little dark, but it does get better after this.

disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, which is probably a good thing, as I'd get far too distracted with each character's background, and not on the cases.

Enjoy!

A/N: EDIT 11 May 2020: Sooo... Yeah, let's face it, this wasn't a great fic to start with, but I do still like the premise. Solution? Rewrite and Re-upload all the chapters and make it into something a little better. I'll be updating the existing chapters in the coming days, look for my author's notes at the top to see if it's been edited yet. Enjoy!

Chapter 1:

"This unsub is most likely a Caucasian man between 30 and 40 years old," Morgan said to the gathered members of the Annapolis PD.

"He probably suffered some kind of trauma, like the loss of a partner or child, perhaps both. He blames another man for this loss, which explains the overkill found on the male corpses," Reid said.

"This guy is all about control; he forces the husbands to rape their wives. When that no longer satisfied him, he started abducting complete strangers and repeating the pattern," Rossi added.

Blake took over. "There was a lot of overkill in the men, but the women only suffered a complete hysterectomy post mortem. They were killed fairly humanely by comparison, with blunt force trauma to the head. This tells us that he has a lot of rage, likely suppressed for a long time."

"He's most likely from a lower- to middle class background," Hotch added. "This shouldn't be released to the media, as the unsub might take more extreme measures. Thank you."

/*/

The first thing he really noticed as his mind started to wake up, was that his head was throbbing. In the split second it took Reid to become aware of the sensation, though, he remembered what had happened and had already gone through several likely scenarios as to what had happened while he was unconscious. This was when he became aware of a second sensation. While his head hurt, it was cushioned on something fairly soft, as opposed to the rest of his body, which was sprawled on what he guessed was a concrete floor, and someone was running their fingers through his hair.

Carefully, he cracked open an eye, but, as he suspected, he could barely make out anything in the semi-darkness. What he did see, though, puzzled him a little. He could see the underside of a delicate jaw, female, by the looks of it. Reid knew exactly where he was. Well, almost exactly. He knew he was in a basement, and he knew that he had been kidnapped.

According to the temporary profile he and his team had come up with, the unsub was a Caucasian male in his 30s to 40s and a loner. There had been no indication of a partner so far, so this woman was most likely a victim, just like himself. He couldn't be entirely sure, though, so he closed his eyes again and listened. He needed more information.

"Did you hear that?" She whispered, her hands stilling. Reid didn't respond.

She stayed still for a moment longer before resuming her movement. Reid thought it might be a nervous habit, maybe she was a mother, or at least a caretaker.

The woman sighed. "I'm getting paranoid, sitting here in the dark by myself," she whispered. "Well, except for you, of course, but since you're still out of it..." she trailed off. It was more likely that she was talking to fill the silence and get rid of her nerves than actually trying to have a conversation with an unconscious person. Most likely a victim, then. He opened his eyes.

The dim light didn't provide him with many more clues, but at least now he could see the room. His movement must have caught her attention, as she suddenly withdrew her hands. "Oh! I'm- I'm sorry," she said quickly.

Reid slowly sat up - he might have a concussion, though the lack of nausea and disorientation were a good sign. The woman scooted back, but didn't say a word while Reid turned around to face her, and catalogued her appearance. Caucasian, probably early to mid-twenties, with curly, dark hair. Her clothes were casual; just a tshirt and jeans.

She bit her lip and stared at him. "Are– are you okay?" she asked hesitantly. Reid felt the back of his head. He had a big bump, but he couldn't feel any blood. "Yeah, I think so," he replied, letting his gaze drift around the room.

"I'm… I'm Annabelle…" she introduced herself.

"Spencer Reid," he replied, his gaze stuck to the tiny strip of light at the bottom of what had to be a door.

The woman – Annabelle – sighed. "It's no use, I've tried to open the door, but unless you can pick a lock with your bare hands… All I've got on me is 3 dollars and a grocery list." She scooted further back until she was leaning against the wall.

Reid studied the room for a moment longer before getting up and pacing the, admittedly small, room. "This unsub always takes couples, why deviate from that pattern?" he asked himself more than his companion.

"Maybe he's trying to play matchmaker?" she suggested, a nervous chuckle accompanying her words. He stared at her, frowning.

"I was joking. You know, it's something people do when they're nervous and trying not to freak out too much…" she said, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them.

"Aren't you afraid?" Reid asked curiously.

"Terrified. Hence the babbling. Don't worry, I'll start panicking for real as soon as I hear a noise or if that door opens," she joked faintly.

Reid looked at her with a frown. She was… strange, to say the least. "How long have we been here?" he asked. His watch was missing. It might have been a tactic to disorient his victims, or psychological torture: taking away what small measure of control his victims have. Or it might just be that he took every personal item he could find. Excepting the three dollars and shopping list of Annabelle's.

"I'm not sure. I think I woke up about an hour or so ago. It's kind of hard to tell with no watch, or outside light. There aren't even really any sounds," she said, looking around the room, as if another glance might reveal anything more.

Spencer processed this. They'd profiled that he lived close to his hunting grounds, so he had to have been inside the city, perhaps he had soundproofed his basement? "When were you taken?" he asked, trying to gather as much information as he could.

"Uhm… around 6 ish? I'd been grading tests at the school, I said goodnight to my colleague… I checked my watch, and it was just past 6. I walked to my car and then someone…" she trailed off, taking a steadying breath. "Someone grabbed me from behind, put something over my mouth… It's itchy."

He couldn't tell in this light, but Reid was sure her mouth and nose would be red and irritated. "Chloroform. Fits this unsub's MO," he muttered, turning around to examine the door again.

"You said that before; unsub. What is that?" she asked. She seemed a little more put together, though she still hadn't moved from her spot against the wall.

Giving up on the door - it has some kind of electric lock, not even a keyhole - he faced her again. Since there really wasn't anything else to do at the moment, he sat down beside her, careful to leave about a foot of space between them. "It's short for unknown subject; the guy who did all this."

She shot him a puzzled look. "Are you a cop or something?"

"FBI, I was working on this case with my team when the unsub took me," he explained. "You're a teacher?"

She nodded. "High school french and german." Reid lifted his eyebrows. She shrugged at his look. "I like languages. You know what the stupid thing is, though?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her legs. "I wasn't even supposed to be there. I never stay that late at school; since I don't have my own classroom, I usually take all my work home. But the Spanish teacher's been ill this week, and my neighbour has been remodelling his apartment, so I figured I might as well, you know?" She paused for a moment. "Is it bad that I wish it had been someone else? That this guy had taken one of my colleagues instead?"

"Self-preservation is one of the strongest motivators, it's perfectly normal to feel that way."

She turned to face him. "But you don't feel that way?"

Reid didn't reply right away. "My team is one of the best, and now they're also incredibly motivated. Do I wish I was out there helping them? Sure. Do I wish it was one of them in here instead of me…?" He shook his head. "They'll get us out of here."

"Guess you're a better person than me," she said, but she was smiling softly.

"Not better, just… more experienced."

For a few minutes, neither of them said anything. Reid was mentally going over every piece of information they'd gotten on the case, but without any new leads, he wasn't getting anywhere.

"Spencer? What's going to happen to us?" Annabelle asked in a small voice.

The media had been all over these murders, there was no way she wasn't aware that the bodies of the victims had been found in alleys all over the city. "The unsub keeps his victims between 6 to 8 hours. Then he kills them. The bodies are dumped about 2 to 4 hours later."

Her breathing sped up. "Oh god," she whispered. "I don't want to die, Spencer."

"You're not going to die. My team is looking for us, we're going to get out of here," he tried to reassure her, but her breathing was coming in short gasps, and she was on the verge of hyperventilating. He had to distract her. "So you're a teacher, what about family?"

She looked at him with a frown, but her breathing had slowed by a tenth of a second. "Uhm… My… my parents live just outside the city. I have a… a sister. She's a surgeon in New York."

"That's great. Do you get to see her much?"

"I… no, she's…Lizzie's always super busy. She only comes down for Christmas, sometimes not even then." Her breathing was still a little shallow, but she was no longer panicking.

"Any pets?"

"No pets allowed in the building," she said, an annoyed look on her face. "Just fish, but I don't really get the appeal of those."

He smiled at her, a little awkward now that he'd gotten her to calm down.

"What about you? Any family?" she asked.

Reid hesitated. He didn't like talking about himself, even though he'd just asked her to open up. "Just my mom," he replied, keeping it short.

She must have noticed his reluctance, but she didn't press him. "No pets?" she asked, teasing.

"No, I… I don't usually get along with animals. And I travel a lot for work."

"Right, FBI guy. So, like, here in the city, or…" she trailed off. Again, he hesitated. "Please, I need something to keep my mind off of…" She gestured vaguely at the room.

"Quantico, Virginia," he said. It's not like it was a secret or anything.

"You said you have a team, right? What are they like?"

So he told her. Surface stuff, nothing too personal, but it felt… nice to talk to someone. Reid didn't exactly have friends outside the team, they were his family. He had a few acquaintances in the academic field, but no one he'd equate with, say, Morgan or JJ.

She, in turn, told him about some of her friends and students, about her parents who came from old money and didn't appreciate their daughter slumming it in a public school.

When they ran out of subjects, she kept the conversation going, possibly more to keep her mind off of what was coming than a real urge to tell him anecdotes about her students, or from her time spent in France. She was a nice person, animated, caring, and intelligent.

"You're a good guy, Spencer," she said, after they'd fallen silent for a while. "If I have to be stuck here, I'm glad it's with you."

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of an electronic lock beeping.

"Oh god," Annabelle whispered, scooting as far back as she could. Reid stood up and moved to the side of the door, in an attempt to surprise the attacker. But as the door opened, no one stepped through.

Reid glanced at Annabelle, who hesitated for a moment, before pushing herself up. Cautiously, he stepped into the doorway, sensing her right behind him. "Be quiet," he whispered, "and follow me."

Just as he stepped through the door, however, it slammed shut before Annabelle could follow him. He turned quickly, trying to find the handle only to realize that the door was remote controlled.

"Spencer?" Annabelle shouted from the other side of the door. "Are you there?" She sounded terrified.

"I'm here, don't worry, I'll get you out, I promise!" he shouted back.

"Please don't leave me!" she screamed, a note of hysteria in her voice.

Before he could reassure her, though, a sound behind him made him turn around. A silhouette was outlined against a bright light behind him. As Reid identified the noise as the cocking of a gun, he realized he had no other option than to hear this guy out. It might be his only way of saving Annabelle…

/*/

Spencer had been gone for a while and Annabelle was starting to lose her mind. What if he was dead already? What would happen to her? She shivered. The room was getting colder and she was losing hope. At least when Spencer was in the room he was able to keep her calm.

Her head shot up as the door slid open again, her heart racing. Almost instinctively, she started to retreat into the corner, trying to make herself smaller.

When Spencer appeared, unharmed, she almost launched herself at him in relief. She managed to stop just short of him, though. "I'm so glad you're okay," she breathed.

"I'm fine," he replied, sounding strained.

She fought the urge to hug him and stepped back. "What did he want?"

Spencer looked uncomfortable. "He told me I had two choices... Neither of them are good," he replied, looking very serious.

Annabelle swallowed thickly and nodded. "Well, he is a serial killer... What were they?" Her heart was racing again, but with Spencer there and no sign of their captor, she was managing to hold on to her sanity. Barely.

Spencer refused to look her in the eye. This wasn't going to be pretty. "He's a sexual sadist, but not usually a rapist himself..."

Okay, that sounded terrible… And Spencer was stalling. Not good. "Stop it, Spencer, just tell me, I'm a big girl."

He paused, studying her face and setting his jaw. "Either he rapes you or I do," he replied flatly, but she could see the pain in his eyes.

Panic clawed at her heart as her breath left her. She turned to the wall and leaned her head against it. She had thought it'd be something like getting to choose who would die first or choosing between suicide and murder, but this? This was truly sick. What the hell was she supposed to do? Spencer seemed nice and all, but she'd only known him for… what, 2 hours at most? Then again, he hadn't abducted her or killed all those people, so was there really a choice?

"I'd rather it'd be you," she whispered as tears stained her cheeks. Why did this have to happen to her? She turned to face him, but didn't bother to wipe away her tears. Let him see it, let him feel bad, a vicious part of her thought. It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair...

Annabelle took a deep breath, and noticed for the first time that there was more light in the room now, giving her an opportunity to study him. He looked a bit like a geek, what with his sweater vest and tie. His hair was a mess, but she figured hers wasn't much better.

Pushing past the panic and fear, she stepped closer to him, her tears coming faster than ever. She pulled him into a hug as she started sobbing in earnest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept repeating in her ear. "I'm so sorry." Despite the situation, she felt better in his arms, like the human contact could stave off the fear.

Gradually, Annabelle released her grip on him. Taking a step back, she reached for the edge of her shirt. Spencer looked pained, but didn't say a word as she pulled it off.

This was, without a doubt, the worst day of her life...