*+#This is AR/AUish. Oh, and I don't live in America or anywhere near it (I only have a set of US encyclopaedias) so any geographical/directional etc. inaccuracies there are I'm really sorry for. And then there are places I'm just making s**t up.

Title: Solvable Cases

Rating: T (for reasons unexpected)

Genre: Crime

Word Count: 2,941

Summary: The teams get's called on a case to Las Vegas and you'll never guess who their first suspect is. AR in which Reid did not join the BAU after graduating.

"We've got a case," JJ said as Morgan was just getting ready to go home from the Behavioural Analysis Unit. He had a wonderful weekend planned: clubbing, women...sleep. Maybe taking Clooney out for a walk (women loved dogs and Clooney was a cute dog) and some lessons at the gym. But no, some psycho killer had to chose to start killing.

There was a groan from each of the three desks, that was silenced when Hotch walked out of his office and offered them a glare. Greenaway, Prentiss and Morgan were appropriately shamed and made their way to the conference room. Garcia, Gideon, Hotch and JJ were already in there, looking through the case.

"We have four bodies and two missings all in Las Vegas, Nevada," the images of the five women came up on the screen as JJ explained.

"They were all abducted within two days of a body being found," JJ said, "all within a month; the local authorities think it's a serial killer and thus far no leads have made themselves apparent."

"All three women were found in or around the University of Nevada at Las Vegas, in the rubbish bins," Hotch said, "all women were raped, tortured and strangled. They're brunette's, Caucasian, all in their early to late twenties."

"He has a low opinion of women; a sexual sadist," Gideon stated. The team nodded.

"And we have less than a week to find these two missing women," Hotch frowned, "wheels up in twenty."

The team nodded and went to get their go-bags. In the pit of Morgan's stomach he had a suspicion that this case wouldn't end well.

Within hours of them arriving at the Las Vegas Police Department the fourth woman abducted showed up in the trash cans behind the University.

"Anna Murray, 23, studying advanced literature," Police Chief Nicholls said, anger, sadness and exhaustion in his voice. "I'll have to tell her mum, she'll be gutted. She only just lost her husband in a mining accident in Reno and now this," he turned away while Hotch and Prentiss examined the scene.

"Same MO, same disposal site; we don't have long until number five turns up dead and number six goes missing," Hotch spoke flatly.

Anna was face down in the trash, hands bound behind her with duct tape. Her feet had probably been tied up, possibly with shackles. There were lacerations, made before death, and stab wounds, post mortem, on her back. Her throat was a deep shade of purple, made with a belt. It was too thick to be wire and had no patterns that would point to a chain or rope.

"They're quite fit women," Morgan said, "he wouldn't have been able to chase them down unless he was fit as well."

"They have bruises on their heads," the coroner explained, "and toxicology came back with large quantities of barbiturates and hallucinogens in their blood. Chances are they barely felt what he did to them."

The coroner looked tired. Jessica Green and Molly Peter's were barely recognisable – extensively beaten across the face with, as the reports said, a wooden object as there were still splinters in their faces.

"So he's not in it for their pain," Morgan frowned, "so what is he in it for?"

"Well," Greenaway looked through the reports, "he might be lashing out at a mother, wife or sister figure in his life,"

"And they're incapacitated, so he drugs them to recreate his fantasy of hurting this woman," Morgan said. Greenaway nodded.

They went out of the coroners and Morgan called Garcia.

"Hey baby girl, I need you to do somethin' for me," he smiled into the phone.

"Your wish, my command, my chocolate god," Garcia snickered, "what is it?"

"I need you to check university enrolments, and employments; males with a wife, sister or mother who would have been hospitalised with either mental or physical disorders. It would have been recent. The man might be enrolled in a literature course, but he might work part time in a hospital or pharmacy; some place he can have access to large quantities of barbiturates and hallucinogens."

"Alright, I'll get back to you,"

"Thanks baby girl."

"Gideon was in front of a map with JJ, trying to determine the geographical profile.

"Anna Murray and Jessica Green were leaving work when they were abducted," JJ said, looking at the police files.

"Where do they work?" Gideon asked.

"Anna worked two blocks from the University at a book store; Jessica worked at a pharmacy across the street from the University;" Gideon pinned the locations.

"Molly Peters was abducted from the University car park; Leanne Smith was abducted from the bus stop and Keisha Lorraine was taken from," JJ flipped the page, "she left the campus at nine and never got back to her apartment; which was a ten minute walk."

Gideon had pinned all the locations and where the bodies were found.

"So he has a comfort zone, the university," he murmured, "he probably followed Murray and Green from the University to their workplaces and waited around until his targets were alone. Get Elle and Morgan to check at the book store and pharmacy to see who was around more than they should have been."

JJ got on the phone to Morgan.

"Morgan, could you check out a Marshall's Second Hand Books and Harris Pharmaceuticals with Elle and see if there were any people hanging around before the fourth and first abductions took place? Yeah...okay...thanks, I'll tell them."

Prentiss and Hotch came back in.

"Morgan and Elle think that the unsub is lashing out at an incapacitated mother/wife/sister figure in his life," JJ said, "the coroner said they were filled with barbiturates and hallucinogens, beaten extensively and tied up."

"There were ligatures on Anna Murray's feet and her hands were tied; there were stab wounds made post mortem and lacerations made before she died on her back," Hotch added.

Gideon turned to face them.

"He'd have to have a lot of privacy, and it will be around the university...that's his comfort zone. He won't have to take them far, but he'll need a vehicle that could hide an unconscious body from view,"

"Unless he gains their trust," Prentiss said. Gideon shook his head.

"Impossible. This kind of unsub, he ties them up and their first wound it a hit to the back of the head. If he'd lashing out at a dominating female figure in his life then he'll have no experience with women. He's young. He won't know how to talk to them. He's angry at them, he won't be able to resist hurting them if he tries talking to them," Gideon explained.

Hotch's phone rang.

"Hotch," he answered. "Alright, I'll put you on speaker," he put her on loud speaker for the rest of the team to hear.

"Derek asked me to look at University records for this slimey piece of work and there were three hits for the information he gave me,"

"Okay, who are they?" Prentiss asked.

"Jeremy Hile, 28, currently enrolled in literature with our victims; his sister is in the loony bin with advanced psychosis," Garica said, "Kingston Marfet, 42, his wife was admitted to a long term care facility three weeks ago due to a brain injury as the result of a car accident with a drunk driver; has been at the University for five years in the Literature department; and Spencer Reid, 25, an assistant professor at the University for the Literature department; his mother is in the Bennington Sanatorium. She suffers from paranoid schizophrenia." Garcia finished.

"Are there any records for them on the nights of the abductions?" Hotch asked.

"Marfet was visiting his wife; Hile and Reid are unaccounted for."

"Who has access to barbiturates and hallucinogens?" Gideon asked. Garcia typed something into her computer.

"None sir,"

"So how is he getting his hands on the drugs?" JJ asked.

"Well, you can get illegal drugs on the black market...hallucinogens, barbiturates...which ones?"

"The ones found in generic supplies or pharmaceuticals...Garcia, check for any pharmacy robberies in the weeks leading up to the robberies or recently," Hotch instructed.

"Okay sir."

"Let's give them the profile."

Morgan and Elle waited at the pharmacy for the manager to come out.

"Hi, I'm Lillian Harris, how can I help you?" a middle aged woman with dark hair and a clinical appearance smiled. It was forced.

"Yes, we're the FBI," Greenaway and Morgan shower her their badges, "and we're wondering if there were any men hanging around the place before Jessica Green went missing?"

Lillian shook her head. "none that I can remember."

"He'd be in his mid twenties, and he'd have been in here before; he'd familiar with the area...Jessica probably would have seen him around before. He's the kind of man to blend into the crowd. He won't be comfortable around crowds; awkward when he's paying for items..." Morgan explained. Lillian frowned.

"There is this one boy...I knew his mother before she went away to hospital," Lillian shook her head and smiled, "but it couldn't be him,"

"Ma'am, it may not be, but we need his name so we can question him," Morgan said softly. Lillian looked torn. "Please, it may save someone's life."

"Spencer Reid, he's got scripts to fill and comes around every once in a while. I ask him about his mother,"

"Do you have an address?"

"Berkley Street, 168, near the University; he works there...a very bright young man," Lillian explained.

Greenaway called Hotch while Morgan thanked Lillian and they went out of the shop.

"Yes," Hotch answered.

"The pharmacist said Spencer Reid was around the pharmacy around the time Jessica Green disappeared," Elle informed him. After a few moments, exchanging information, she hung up.

"He was on the list Garcia made for us," she said. "Hotch says check him out at the Uni while they check his home with the local PD."

"Alright, let's go."

Spencer Reid was sitting in the break room, alone like always, reading through literature essays like Professor Daniels told him to do, when Maria Goldman opened the door and walked in with two unfamiliar faces.

"Doctor Reid, these people would like to speak with you," she said, lips tight, eyebrows furrowed. She was angry. Spencer was immediately on edge.

"O-okay," his voice was small. He gathered the papers and put them in a brown messenger bag. Morgan and Elle watched him, noting his behaviour. He was nervous, intimidated, shaking a little.

He stood and faced them, slightly defensive.

"I'll take those to Professor Daniels," Maria smiled at him. She took the papers from him, but before that she gave him a hug. He patter her awkwardly.

"You'll be alright Spencer, you've done nothing wrong." Then she left. Morgan and Elle took out their badges.

"I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan and this is Special Agent Elle Greenaway, we'd like to ask you a few questions regarding the abductions and murders of five women in the past three weeks," Morgan said flatly, calmly. Spencer nodded.

He knew the cases. He'd read about them in the newspaper and heard them on the news. He frowned. But he wasn't involved. He'd never met three of them and the other two he only knew because he went to buy books and needed prescriptions.

"Can you come down to the station with us?" Morgan asked. Spencer nodded.

"Okay," his voice came out less calm than he'd intended. Morgan walked up to him and handcuffed him and took him out to the black SUV in the parking lot. The looks he got was nearly more than he could bear.

Spencer sat in the interrogation room, taking in every detail with wide hazel eyes. He wasn't calm, he was fidgeting, remembering, thinking. He knew his heart and breathing rates had increased and he was sweating a little. He knew there were other people on the other side of the glass and he wondered when they would get around to questioning him.

He was innocent, he had nothing to worry about. So why was he worried.

Morgan and Hotch and Gideon stood at the glass. The raid on the house had yielded nothing, except the knowledge that Spencer Reid was extremely intelligent and had little to no social life. Books about almost every subject lined the walls of most of the rooms; papers (some finished and some half finished) about psychology, criminology and sociology; even chemistry and engineering, were scattered everywhere. He held three doctorates, and as many bachelors.

The furniture was old and the bed looked barely slept in. The bathroom cabinet had prescriptions for insomnia and various pills for vitamin and mineral deficiencies.

"Greenaway and Prentiss are checking out Mr. Hile," Hotch informed them. "Do you think he's a viable suspect?" he asked Gideon. The older agent frowned.

"He could fit the profile, but we'll need more than that to get it to trial,"

"He could?" Hotch questioned. Gideon shrugged.

"Hile fits the profile."

"But he hasn't been hanging around pharmacy's," Morgan explained.

"And Doctor Reid has reasons to go to them...and he's no stranger to book stores either,"

"But that's only two of the victims."

"He works in the literature department," Gideon frowned, "question him, see if he breaks." Gideon walked out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Hotch called out.

"To check our profile."

Morgan sat in front of Spencer Reid, face neutral. Spencer sat there, trying to avoid eyes contact because this man scared him. He reminded him of not so pleasant people in his past whom he'd much rather forget.

Morgan opened the case file and showed him pictures of the crime scenes, basically shoving them in his face. Spencer recoiled.

Oh good god, he felt his insides try and crawl out his throat. He put a hand over his mouth.

"These women had bright futures ahead of them, and you're our primary suspect," Morgan said flatly. He took out a picture of Keisha Lorraine. "Did you know her?" he asked.

Spencer narrowed his eyes, focussing solely on the photo of Keisha and not the other mangles bodies that made him want to be sick.

"I met her, once or twice, when she handed in a paper for Professor Daniels...Keisha Lorraine has very interesting ideas about literature. Did you know that only 29% of university students are at her level," Spencer explained, "if fact, when she finishes her course next year, she will be among the top 15 percent of achievers in the country and in the top 38% in the world for her course," he rambled, cheeks flushing red as the intimidating man narrowed his eyes. Did he say something wrong?

"You say she will be, she has; do you think she's still alive?" Morgan asked steely. Spencer froze. Oh dear lord, he thought.

"Well, her body hasn't been recovered yet and given that the other four women were found in the same place, there is a less than 3...make that 2 percent chance that her body will be dumped somewhere else," Spencer said, "and furthermore, given that police presence has been jacked up by 5 percent, especially at night around the dump site, that Keisha's body hasn't been found or dumped; and given that each woman is usually missing for four days, gives the likelihood that you will catch the offender before he has a chance to kill again. Until you find her body I think it's best to hold onto the hope that she's still alive, despite police presence-" he stopped rambling as the agent looked at him with a frown. He'd said something wrong again. Spencer, bowed his head and wrung his hands.

"Sorry...I get carried away sometimes," he muttered quickly. Morgan was about to say something when Hotch came into the room and ushered Morgan out.

"I had Garcia check recent drop outs and there was Frederick Smith, 25, his mother, a brunette was admitted to Benningtons Sanatorium four weeks ago with schizophrenia. He's been convicted of burglary, assault, break and entering, stalking; the police and raiding his apartment now and we think Keisha might be located in the abandoned buildings next to the University. We have to go now." Hotch explained. Morgan nodded.

He went back into the room, collected the files.

"You're free to go." He said then left. A local officer came in and got Spencer, who was confused as hell.

They were on the plane back by that night. Local police got the confession out of Frederick Smith; he'd known details that hadn't been released and he'd mentioned the buildings when he'd broken and confessed.

Keisha was returned safely to her family.

"We could use a mind like Spencer Reid's at the BAU," Hotch mentioned to Gideon. The older agent shrugged.

"Why?"

"He's bright, if we'd given him more information he'd have probably been able to give us a profile," Hotch had a small smile on his face. Gideon was looking through an old newspaper.

"We'll have to give him a call," Gideon murmured. Hotch nodded.

"What are you reading?" he asked. Gideon showed him the page. The youngest student ever accepted to CalTech University, Spencer Reid, graduates with honours at the top of his class and has been offered positions at some of the most renowned organisations and industries, but refused all of them in order to better take care of his ailing mother in his home town of Las Vegas, Nevada. Then the article went on to detail his achievements.

"Seriously, give him a call, he'll probably refuse, even more now that he's been investigated by us." Gideon had a self satisfied smile on his face.

"We'll see, we'll see."

A/N: I'm not sure if I should continue this or leave it as it is. Feedback would be greatly appreciated =)

Oh, and can someone explain to me the difference between Alternate Reality and Alternate Universe. I'm not sure which one applies to this fic...because I only have a very basic understanding of the concepts. Please and thank you =)