Chapter 1: Never-ending Nightmares

Reid rubbed the tip of his fingers methodically over the thick case file lying open on his lap while the other hand grasped a scalding cup of black coffee.

Seven victims, Two possible unsubs, and absolutely no working profile – yet.

Reid knew he was an integral part of the team and quite possibly the brains that helped the BAU crack most of their cases but lately he'd been struggling. The nightmares had come back more prominent than before and, although varied in storylines, all dealt with the same major theme; his own bloodied death. Of course, Reid had suffered through horrid nightmares before and as always, Morgan, Gideon, and the rest of the team had been their to pick up the pieces but this was different. These dreams didn't go away when he opened his eyes. They lingered in the back of his mind throughout the grueling workday. Minutes felt like hours and the hours dragged on until he was forced, by pure exhaustion, into fitful and restless slumbers. And the dark circles that naturally encompassed his eyes turned into cavernous black holes. They regretfully reminded him of those torturous and humiliating high school years full of hopeless fistfights and weekly ass kicking's. Reid had no idea why visions of his untimely death chose to stubbornly swim around in the back of his already meticulous mind, but any longer and he'd be forced to see a psychiatrist. His recent studies with dream analysis and hypnotherapy had led to dead ends and he was quickly approaching the time for drastic measures. He needed sleep.

Hey kid!" Morgan yelled. His eyes looked creased with concern and his open palm waved only inches from Reid's nose. The sudden outburst succeeded in waking Reid from his drowsy stupor but also caused him to spill half the contents of his coffee down the front of his sweater vest.

"Damn" gasped Reid, jumping out of his chair and waving his arms around wildly trying to cool the liquid that was now scorching his forearms. Some napkins were hastily shoved in his direction and he grabbed them without thanks. Reid was used to lack of sleep and fits of clumsiness but this was getting ridiculous.

"You okay, kid?" asked Morgan, backing away slowly to give Reid some space to compose himself. "We can wait for you to go to the bathroom and get yourself cleaned up, if you want?" Reid looked up and saw that all his teammates were looking at him with the same expression of worry and mild anxiety. All except for Gideon, who was staring at Reid like he could see right through his pale flesh and into the innermost secrets of his soul. Reid had always been the baby of the group and was therefore treated with much more caution and concern than the rest of its members.

Trying to gain his calm, Reid took a deep breath and conjured his best closed mouth smirk. "No, No, I'm fine. We've got seven dead victims and no time to waste so let's just go ahead with the case. I'll dry off."

As usual JJ stepped up to the front of the room and scrolled through the pictures of all seven victims giving names, dates of birth, dates of death, current residences, and other generalities associated with every case. As Reid flipped though the file he saw the pictures of mutilated bodies lying in shallow rivers and creeks. Soon, JJ's voice faded into the background; he envisioned his own torn and battered body sprawled across the rocks, turning the river red with blood.

"So what's the statistic Reid?" This time it was Prentiss who jolted Reid from his revolting nightmare.

"I'm sorry?" Reid said, trying to look embarrassed for practically dreaming with his eyes open during a case debriefing.

"General homicide statistics for South Western United States?"

"Oh, well speaking strictly homicide cases, Louisiana is the highest ranked state to suffer from murders with approximately 13 percent killed out of every one hundred thousand residents. Also," Reid's voice hitched and raised a few octaves as the information rapidly poured from his lips. "murderers almost always kill within their same race and the prime hours in which a murderer strikes usually start at 6pm and rapidly increase until 11pm, where they then steadily decline." he finished. It always seemed that the one thing to never fail him was his eidetic memory and gift for absorbing new knowledge. If nothing else, the opportunity to spout a stream of statistics decreased his throbbing headache and woke him momentarily. By now the team was used to Reid's indisputable talents and were already headed to the jet for an early morning flight.

Reid hazily trotted down the stairs and over to his desk in the bullpen when he pulled out his phone to check the time. He liked giving himself sufficient time to prepare for flights, especially longer ones, and especially now when he needed to muster as much energy and focus as possible. As he flipped open his phone to check the time there was a new voicemail blinking in the sidebar. The time on the voicemail indicted it was left at 7:21. He'd missed the call by less than ten minutes. Figuring it was his mom due for another mother–son checkup; he punched in his password and waited as the receiver found the new message. Reid quickly grabbed his duffel bag and headed down the secluded hallway outside the main office. Spotting Prentiss a few feet ahead he yelled out to her.

"Emily!" She spun on her heels. "Tell Hotch I'll be there in a few minutes, I've got a few messages to check. Plus, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Can you do it on the plane?" She yelled back, still moving slowly in the direction of the jet. "Hotch really wants to get moving as soon as possible. Can't waste much time, remember?"

"Yeah, okay. Just give me a few seconds then." Reid yelled again, seeing as Emily had already turned her back on him and was walking briskly to the doors of the building. She did give him a quick thumbs up to show that she had heard and understood.

As Reid's phone finally located the voicemail the number came up as caller unidentified but he'd decided if it was important enough to leave a voicemail about than he should probably give it a listen.

"I know what's been going through that mind of yours, Dr. Spencer Reid" The voice was hoarse and unfamiliar through the speakers. "You've seen your death but so many to choose from. Which shall we pick? Decisions, decisions." And then a maniacal, wheezing cackle came through the phone. Just the sound of it made Reid's blood run cold. But then –

BAM! Reid phased in and out of consciousness for a mere second until finally, everything went black.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Are we ready to lift off?" Hotch asked as he fastened his seatbelt against the rear window of the jet. He took a quick glance around the compartment to make sure all was in order. "Wait, where's Reid?"

Morgan's head popped over the couch cushion, his eyes protective.

"Oh, sorry. I was supposed to tell you he had some messages to check but he said he'd just listen to them on the plane. I'm guessing he's in the bathroom checking them right now. More privacy, you know." Prentiss finished with a dismissive way to the bathroom at the back of the jet. "He was right behind me. I'm sure he's here somewhere."

After a quick glance toward the tiny seemingly occupied lavatory, Morgan's shoulders slowly relaxed as he turned back around to recline on the threaded cushion.

"Alright then. Let's get going. If we know anything about this unsub it's that he tortures and kills his victims all within 24 to 48 hours of the abduction. We've got no time to lose" said Hotch.

As the plane began to lift off, Hotch, Prentiss, and JJ studied the details of the case, Morgan began breaking down the victimology, and Gideon engrossed himself in a map of the recent victim abductions; none of them realizing what was about to happen to their youngest member of the team.