(Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters)
Oh God...what am I doing...
Okay, so you probably already realise this from the description, but yes, there will be a MAJOR character death. I never thought I'd see the day that I'd actually do this.
You've all been warned and if this is not for you that's fine, don't read anymore, (but please give the first chapter a chance because I have so much planned and it's not all bad.) all I ask is that if you don't like it don't leave comments about wanting to hunt me down for what I've done...it was an idea I had and I thought I should share it :D This is just a fanfic, no one is actually dead.
This will be Reid-centric and a tiny bit AT.
I took inspiration from the film 'Fluke' which I watched as a child and it had a really big impact on me (you guys should watch it.)
Oh, and I won't leave you in suspense, said character will die in approximately...5 lines?
Please review (go easy on me.)
And...I usually say enjoy, but I have a feeling you won't...
He didn't know when he slipped away.
Was it on the 3rd...or the 5th?
No, it had to be the 8th.
He didn't realise he'd been counting, or in fact that he stopped; truly stopped. When that magnificent brain of his forgot how to function, despite its eidetic memory. When his brimming heart leaked from where the knife had punctured and gave out weakly.
It was number 14. It had to be. He couldn't recall counting any further. He couldn't recall anything. His mind folded in on itself as it died; locking away his memories from the outside world; impenetrable. His limbs, once agitated by fear and the tiniest sliver of hope, stilled, giving in to the body's will.
His eyes had fluttered closed on the 6th...or was it the 9th?
They never opened again.
The mugger kept pushing his knife into the flesh and cringing at the squelching sound as he twisted it out and plunged it back in. He had to be sure. He'd lost count 5 minutes ago. The man...no boy, beneath him, had been still for a while.
He withdrew his knife, stabbing it anywhere where there was a gap of unmarked flesh. It was amazing how something so lifeless could bleed so much.
Blood. Blood everywhere. It glued his fingers to the knife and created a lake around him. Each time he stabbed the boy, his hands would slap against the wet sticky substance that had long since soaked through the young man's shirt, that was now filled with holes.
He pushed the knife in one last time, pressing his whole weight against it and growling in exhaustion.
He lent back into the river of blood that was creating a steady stream down the alleyway. He wiped his nose and grabbed the one thing he'd come for; the wallet.
He tore it open and unzipped the cash compartment. Two ten dollar bills and three ones were all he found. He searched for a card or anything he could use but came up empty. He yanked out the money, seeing as it was the reason why he'd even attacked the kid. He threw the wallet down into the blood.
He started checking the boy's pockets searching for anything he could sell. His eyes swept past the gun and they widened eagerly as he swiped it from the holster.
The mugger didn't know much about guns, but this one didn't look cheap.
He rummaged through the other pockets, shivering as he brushed the boy's dead hand, which was beginning to grow cold. His fingers wrapped around something in the young man's pocket and he yanked it out hungrily. It appeared to be another wallet of some kind.
Bingo, he thought.
This wallet had no money in it. This was a set of credentials.
He squinted at the face in the picture, confirming it as the kid he just murdered.
He caught the letters F.B.I and swallowed thickly.
SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, he read. Behavioural Analysis Unit.
The mugger threw the credentials onto the body and made a swift exit. He kept his head down, his bloody hands in his pockets, gripping onto the swag he got from the kid.
23 dollars.
SSA Dr. Spencer Reid lay bathed in his own blood, 26 holes in his torso...for the price of 23 dollars.
Enough to buy a bottle of vodka and two bottles of whiskey which the mugger took home to celebrate his achievement.
He sat in his warm house, his body cleaned of blood with fresh clothes adorning his living flesh. Spencer remained in the cold; his torn body continued to spew blood and his warm, sticky, crimson clothes hung to his pale flesh, barren of life.
A/N: I'm not leaving you there, that would be cruel. It's time to put a spin on things.
A soft wind tickled over his back, disturbing the dark golden fur that covered his body. He shivered and curled in on himself, sighing when his tail brushed against his nose.
Tail!?
Spencer pulled his eyes open and glared down. There was a tail. A long one with bristly gold hair. He sniffed it and yelped at how intense his sense of smell was. He stood up and realised he was stood on all fours. He glanced at his hands and feet, but he only saw four small furry paws.
It's just a dream. It's just a dream, he chanted in his head. He closed his eyes and waited a moment before looking down again. The four stumpy legs and fluffy feet still remained. He yelled out in shock, but instead of his voice coming from his mouth, a high pitched bark echoed through it.
He cowered backward, shivering in fear.
What's going on? He thought, his eyes darting about as he took in his new body parts.
I'm ... I'm a-a dog?! He thought, shaking his head disbelievingly.
No..no that's impossible! But it certainly looked real.
He cast his mind back to what had happened the night before, while he was still...him. He scoured his mind, desperate for answers regarding his current situation. His memory came back in distorted snippets.
Spencer walked down the street with his coffee, breathing in its strong delicious scent.
Something grabbed him by the neck, he was too stunned to grab his gun.
A knife entered his abdomen and he fell onto his back. The attacker collapsed atop of him and began stabbing the knife into him with a sadistic passion.
He remembered nothing more.
Spencer shivered at the memory.
Am I dead? He thought. He gazed around him and found that he was on a street corner and that everything suddenly seemed so big.
What's going on? He felt panic rising up inside him. He remembered dying, he recalled the pain and then nothing.
"Help!" He cried, but instead of words, a barking noise escaped his throat.
An older man walked by him and hurled a globule of spit at him. Spencer yelped and hopped back, pressing his small back into the wall.
"Vermin," the man hissed before carrying on his way. Spencer panted wildly and felt his long pink tongue hang from his mouth instinctively. Several other passersby ignored the golden brown puppy cowering against the wall.
Move, he said to himself. Go to Hotch. Find Hotch, he'll know what to do, he thought.
He took a deep breath and stepped out into the sun. He skittered back when something dark loomed over him, but he soon realised it was only his shadow.
He trotted out, surprising himself with how easy it was to walk on 4 legs. He left a wide berth between him and the people walking along the street. He glanced up at the signs, if he knew where he was he could make it to Hotch's apartment.
"Aw, Mommy look! It's a puppy, Mommy!" Spencer looked up just in time to see a girl bending down in front of him, he shied away, watching her with wide, scared, brown eyes.
"Nala, don't touch it. You don't know what it could have," her mother snapped, bustling over. Spencer frowned and edged forward, sniffing the small girl's hand gently and nudging it with his head.
"Look, Mommy! She's nice! She likes me!"
She? Spencer thought as he licked the girl's small hand.
"Nala, No!" The girl's hand was yanked away and Spencer saw a much bigger one descend upon his snout. A sharp stinging danced up his face and he stumbled back with a whimper.
"Don't hurt her, Mommy!" Spencer avoided another hit and he started to run from the offending hand.
"It probably had fleas! It could have bitten you! come on, we're going to wash your hands." He heard the mother warn, but he didn't look back. He bounded along the street and avoided the passing humans who weren't as he remembered them when he was alive.
He saw a street sign and knew where to go.
"Jack, stop messing around. I need to get to work and Jessica needs to get you to school," Hotch said, picking up the school bag that Jack had left on the floor.
"I don't wanna go to school!" Jack whined.
"You're going and that's final," Hotch picked up the remote and went to turn off the TV when a news report caught his eye.
"-no witnesses yet, Carol, but the police have already launched an inquiry
"Reports say that the young 28-year-old male was a victim of a mugging gone wrong. The identity of the victim is yet to be released." The newswoman turned to her partner. "The police say that the victim had 26 stab wounds."
"We'd just like to take the time to warn people to remain vigilant until the assailant has been found and to stay in groups-"
"Aaron? What happened to 'we're running late'?" Jessica smirked.
"Oh right, sorry," he turned off the TV. From the sound of it, they wouldn't be given that case. Although it was rare for a mugging to turn into full-blown murder, they weren't serial.
"Jack are you ready?" Hotch asked and Jack nodded through a mouthful of pop tart.
"I'll see you later, okay. Be good for Jessica-" he was interrupted by a faint scratching at the door.
"What's that?" Jack questioned.
"Whit there." Hotch wandered over to the door and unbolted it. He glanced out into the hall and frowned when he saw no one. A small bark brought his attention down to his feet where a small golden retriever puppy was sat, wagging his tail. His fur seemed darker than a normal golden retriever and his eyes were a mixture of browns. He cocked his head and barked again.
"What the-"
"A puppy!" Jack cried, falling to his knees and grabbing the puppy. Spencer let the boy embrace him and licked his face happily.
This is what dogs do, right? He finally felt loved after the reception he'd received when he first woke up.
"Can we keep him, Dad?" Jack begged. The puppy jumped up and licked Jack's cheek, his tail wagging vigorously as Jack ran his hand over his fur.
"I-I-"
"What's going on, Aaron?"
"I don't know?" Hotch scratched his head and knelt in front of the puppy. Spencer turned and hopped into Hotch's lap, rubbing his head against his bosses suit.
"Where did you come from, boy?" Hotch checked for a collar but found none.
"Please, can we keep him!?" Pleaded Jack. Hotch stroked the puppy's face and he melted into the touch. He looked from Jack to Jessica and sighed.
"You guys should be going. I'll deal with the puppy."
"Don't send him away!" Jack moaned.
"I won't, we'll discuss this later. You guys are going to be late. Go on."
Jack and Jessica left a little reluctantly. Hotch turned to the puppy.
"What am I going to do with you?" The puppy ran around in a circle and yapped happily. His hazel eyes kept darting at the wall and Hotch looked to where he was staring. He saw the clock and gasped.
"Shit! I'm late. Uh...if I leave you here you better not destroy anything till I'm back," Hotch warned and the puppy 's tail continued to beat against the floor. Hotch grabbed a newspaper and layed it on the floor, before quickly filling up a bowl of water and another of cat biscuits (from the cat that came to their windowsill which Jack enjoyed feeding.)
"Right. Do your business on that and you can eat that until I get something else," Hotch instructed as if the puppy could understand him. "When I get back we will decide what to do with you." With that, he grabbed his suit jacket and readjusted his tie before hurrying from the apartment.
The best thing about being 30 centimeters tall was that Spencer could sneak anywhere unnoticed. Somehow he managed to worm himself into the back seat of Hotch car, after having crept out of the apartment behind Hotch and hopping in Hotch's car door when his neighbor had said hi.
He didn't make a sound as Hotch drove to the BAU. He listened quietly to Hotch grumble about being late.
When they finally stopped Hotch opened his door and made the mistake of leaving it open too long and allowing the small puppy to jump out. Spencer followed at his bosses heels until they got to the door.
"Sir, is...uh is that your dog?" Hotch frowned and glanced around. Behind him just a few feet away stood the little golden brown puppy, his tail wagging shyly.
"Uh. Yes. Yes, he is." Hotch picked up the puppy and cursed himself for his unprofessionalism. He couldn't take the dog home, he was already astronomically late.
"Oh, right sorry. It's just usually we don't let dogs in," the guard said awkwardly.
"Oh, well, this one is training to be a...police dog."
"Really? I thought they used German Shepard for that?" The guard said, scratching his head.
"Not necessarily. And, well, this little guy is pretty special. He needs to learn the sort of environments he will be dealing with. So if you don't mind," Hotch said forcefully and the guard didn't argue.
"Good luck, sir," the guard called from behind. Hotch looked down at the puppy in his arms.
"You are going to get me in so much trouble," he mumbled, the puppy licked his nose mischievously.
"Uh...Hotch? You...uh," Morgan chuckled a little, "you seem to have a...uh puppy. Did you know that?"
"Thank you for your observation, Morgan," Hotch grumbled.
"Why are you so late, Aaro- Why have you got a dog?" Rossi asked, coming out of his office.
"It's a long story."
"We've been slaving away on these files and you've been out puppy shopping!?" Emily gasped. "That's not very fair, sir."
"Here," Morgan held out a hand for Emily's extra folders. "I'll sneak those into Pretty Boy's stack, this is his punishment for being late." Morgan shuffled a big portion of his and Emily's files into Spencer's smaller pile, which he had worked on most of the night, leaving half an hour after Hotch.
"Where is Reid?" Hotch asked.
"We asked you a question first. Why have you got a puppy?" Morgan laughed.
"A PUPPY!?" Garcia shrieked, she ran as best she could in heels and halted in front of Hotch nabbing the puppy from his hands. "Aw! He's so adorable! Where can I get one?" She cooed, lifting the dog up in front of her face. Spencer couldn't help but smile and lick her nose gently. "AHHH!"
"Careful, we don't know where he's from. He was just sat outside my door this morning," Hotch explained.
"Of your apartment?"Hotch nodded.
"Okay, but how did he get here?" JJ asked with a raised eyebrow.
"He followed me! I'm not kidding. I walked through the car park and the security guard noticed him following me."
"Aren't you a smart little puppy? Yes, you are!" Garcia grinned, peppering the dog with small kisses.
"Don't get attached. I'm not sure if we're keeping him," Hotch added and Garcia gaped at him.
"Well if you don't I will," she jibbed.
"So where's Reid?" Hotch asked, hastily changing the subject to save his embarrassment. Morgan shrugged.
"Beats me. He stayed pretty late yesterday, didn't he? Maybe he just woke up late."
"But it's not like him to be this late," Hotch mused.
"And it's not like you to be this late, either,' chuckled Rossi.
"Have you guys tried to call him?"
"I will now," JJ added.
"Do we have any cases?" Emily asked, standing up and stoking the excited puppy.
"Not that I know of."
"Did you see the report on the news this morning?" Hotch asked. Rossi took a deep breath and nodded.
"Yea, it sounded pretty bad, but I don't think they'll need us. It's just another mugging gone wrong," Rossi shrugged it off, it wasn't like he needed to worry about it.
"If they find the Unsub. We might have to assist if the guy isn't caught soon. 23 stab wounds seems a little overkill for a mugging."
Emily put the puppy on Reid's desk and he started nuzzling the book spines curiously.
"You can't get rid of him, Hotch," she said as the puppy bit down on a book corner and started pulling. Spencer was desperately trying to send them a message, but none of them seemed to notice.
Morgan saw a pair of officers enter through the glass doors and was about to say something when JJ cut in.
"He's not answering. Either he slept through his alarm or he put his phone in the dishwasher again," JJ said with a grin.
"Don't eat that, puppy," Garcia chided, tapping the puppy's nose lightly as he tried to pull Reid's book out. The puppy cowered flat on his stomach, terrified of being hit like he had on his way to Hotch. "Oh, I'm sorry, Puppy. But if my Boy Genius finds out we let you eat his books he won't be happy."
"Uh guys," Morgan muttered, motioning to the officers who seemed to be heading for them. The team stopped chatting and turned to watch the officers.
They stopped in front of the team and looked at Hotch.
"Agent Hotchner?" The taller one asked.
"Yes," Hotch looked from one to the other, not liking the gentle tone of his voice.
"I'm Deputy Cusick and this is Officer Ellis. We're working on the recent homicide case a few blocks from here," the taller one explained.
"What is it? Do you need us on the case?" Rossi queried, but something told him that's not why they were there.
"No, sir. We aren't here for that."
"Then why are you here?" Garcia said, her voice shook a little. The puppy remained flat on his stomach, waiting for the dreaded words.
"We identified the victim. He had a set of credentials on him."
"No," Emily hissed shaking her head. "Stop."
"We were able to confirm the victim as SSA Dr. Spencer Reid."
"I'm sorry."
The bullpen fell into a deathly silence.
AHHH! I can't believe I just did that!
This is only going to be a short story. 5 chapters at most. I don't think I could write much more about Spencer being dead.
Please tell me what you thought in the reviews, and I'm sorry in advance for killing him, but it had to happen for this story to work.
Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon.
I'm going to go make a gingerbread house to cheer me up...