Title:

Pairing: George Foyet (The Reaper) & Spencer Reid

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: This story is rated NC-17 for the following mature content: Slash. Graphich Homosexual Intercourse. Rough Sex. Blood Play. Rape/Non-Con. Kidnapping. Attempted Murder. Minor Spoilers to some episodes of Criminal Minds. Adult Language. Character Death. Mentions of Past murders, rapes and other crimes. Child Neglect. Pre-Slash. OoC-Ness

Requested By: V (anonomus)

Author's Note: This one-shot is DARK! I didn't realize just how dark this was going to be when I first say the pairing, but then I realized this was the ONLY way to do the pairing any justice. I mean come on its THE REAPER. So, if dark wasn't what you wanted, I'm sorry but I have to do it this way. If any of this doesn't sit well with you, please skip it. I will have another chapter of The Job up next month, and I promise it won't be anything like this.

Foyet drummed his fingers idly on the wheel of his four door Sedan. He was parked just out of sight on the tarmac, waiting for his friend, Aaron Hotchner to return from his case in Indiana with his team.

He'd been playing it safe the last few months after his attack on Hotch. He'd not been quick enough to follow Hotch's pretty little ex-wife and adorable son, but he'd find them all in good time. Foyet decided that he'd find a little something to catch Hotchner's attention again. He'd given the man over five months to recover from his wounds, to settle down and get comfortable.

He wanted Aaron Hotchner to know, he was still here, still playing their game. He was actually planning a rather special anniversary gift for their sixth months at the game. Foyet was going to take one of Hotch's team members. Have a little fun with them, maybe give them back to Hotch with a few new body modifications and a whole lot of memories. Or he'd give them back in a body bag.

The Reaper hadn't quite made his choice yet. He was still debating which member of the team would pack the most punch for Hotchner.

Derek Morgan would be fun, a challenge and Foyet had never been one to turn a challenge down. But George was afraid he'd get bored to easily with Morgan, the man was an alpha male, defiant and strong. He'd fight to much, wouldn't show any fear and then George knew for certain Derek Morgan would be returning to the team in a body bag, or maybe he wouldn't return him at all, leave him rotting in a ditch somewhere as a final fair well.

Jeniffer Jaureau, or J.J. as they called her was who George was leaning towards at the moment. She was small, so would be easy for him to handle and transport. With her baby son and her boyfriend William sobbing for her safe return, the pressure would be on even more to find her. She was very attractive, and she acted so well on the television that Foyet thought it would be so arousing to watch her try and play tough before he broke her completely.

George perked up, drawing away from his fantasies about Agent Jaureau and his favorite hunting knife when the team's G-Five jet taxied off the runaway. As the engines cut off, the staircase was lowered and he got to watch as the team descended one by one.

First was Emily Prentiss, he'd thought about taking her, but she wasn't his type. She was to strong, her features to mature. She wouldn't break down so prettily under his knife. George wanted to get as much enjoyment out of this as possible.

Then came Derek Morgan and David Rossi. The old man had never even been a thought, he was old and would talk to much. Foyet's short temper would get the best of him with the senior profiler and he'd cut the man's throat before the fun even began and then. As much as the man was an asset to the F.B.I. he'd already given thirty plus years of his life. They had enough of his mind saved up in files and trained in to other agents that he was expendable.

At least Foyet thought so.

Ah, and then there was the young Doctor Spencer Reid.

Foyet smirked, watching the tall lanky young man ungracefully make his way down the stairs, clutching a leather satchel over his shoulder. Morgan punched the younger man lightly in the shoulder than draped his arm over his shoulders. The black agent laughed, throwing his head back at something the genius said. Hotchner looked back from his place at the driver side door at one of two black SUVs that were to take the team back to Quantico so they could get to their personal vehicles and go home for the night.

Hotch actually waved his hand, beckoning Reid to duck from under Morgan's arm with a huge smile and run to the front passenger side of the SUV that Hotch was driving. Rossi was chuckling from the passenger side door of the second SUV while Prentiss shook her head from the driver's side. They both said something that had Morgan and Jj both cracking up, Reid stammering something back and Hotch shaking his head, a small smile on his face.

It was that small smile on Aaron Hotchner's face that sealed the fate of Doctor Spencer Reid.

Foyet stalked Reid for weeks, before he decided to act. The sixth month date of his attack on Hotch was only a few days away, and he didn't want to wait any longer. The anticipation was getting the best of him. He was lucky that the team didn't have a case that Thursday night in May. A thunderstorm had just finally blown over when Foyet pulled his car in to the back parking lot of Reid's condo complex.

He made sure to leave the trunk slightly open and the driver's side door unlocked. He grabbed his small bag of supplies from the floor well and made his way towards Reid's building. He pulled black latex gloves on and his mask down over his face before pulling his hood up. He picked the lock to Reid's sliding glass door with ease and slid it open just enough for him to slip in.

It was dark, white noise from a television that was on but to low for a person to actually understand filled the rooms. Foyet kept his breathing easy as he made his way through the living room to the second floor where Reid's bedroom lay.

Foyet had broken in to the young agent's house several times over the past month and a half. Familiarized himself with his next victim, spent hours flipping through the hundreds of books that filled just about every available surface in the place. Despite the mountains of books, Reid was surprisingly organized, everything had its place, and every time Foyet came in, nothing had every been out of place, unless he messed with it.

He cracked open the bedroom door, and smirked, seeing that Reid had fallen asleep reading in bed, still propped up against the head board. Foyet made his way across the room and grabbed the young agent by the neck, startling him away by pulling him out of bed and throwing him face first on to the floor.

Reid yelped and instantly began to struggle. Foyet smirked as he fought to keep the kid's long arms and legs under his control. All the while Reid demanded to know who he was and what he wanted. After finally getting the flex-cuffs around the thin wrists, George slammed Reid on to his back, and smirked behind his mask as the young man got a good look at him.

"Fo-Foyet." Reid stammered, his Adam's apple bobbing wildly as he failed to reign in his fear. His big brown eyes were water and so full of fear that Foyet found himself hardening instantly. He hummed, he normally didn't go for men, but if Reid kept making those doe eyes at him, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions. Even Hotchner wouldn't be able to fault him for that.

"W-what do you want?" Reid asked and Foyet chuckled, pulling a roll of ducktape from his bag.

"To play a game." George admitted then began wrapping the ducktape around Reid's head, covering his ears, mouth and eyes, but leaving his nose open to breath. Reid's screams were muffled and his hands clenched under his back at the pulling pain fo the tape on his face and hair. He wrapped a thick layer of ducktape around Reid's ankles and another band around his knees to prevent him from kicking or crawling anywhere.

Foyet cut along Reid's right arm, listening to the young man's muffled cries with a devilish grin. He drew the Eye of Providence on the bedroom door, then grabbed Reid's credentials, gun and cell phone before hoisting the man over his shoulder and carrying him out of the house. He set the squirming man on the ground outside the sliding glass door in order to cut another line down his left arm and draw the eye again, with Fate written above it with a question mark.

Once happy with his work he made sure to drag the boy slowly over to his car, leaving a trail of blood. George pulled Reid's phone from his pocket, and dialed Hotch's number. Cute, it was speed dial number one.

"Reid? Why are you calling so late?" Hotch answered groggily, it was obvious he'd been sleeping.

Foyet chuckled. "Hello Agent Hotchner, its nice to hear your voice again." He said, and tossed Reid in the trunk of his car. The young genius groaned loudly even through the tape as he fell in to the trunk with a heavy thud.

"Foyet, where's Reid?" Hotch growled and Foyet chuckled again.

"He's safe and sound with me," George said, looking down at the squirming man in the trunk. "For now at least."

"I will find you." Hotch snarled.

"I'm hoping you do. I'm rooting for you, really I am Aaron." George teased. "I just worry that you won't find me before I kill your Doctor Reid here."

"You don't want the death of a federal agent on your hands Foyet." Hotch tried to reason and George sighed.

"You have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy making your boy bleed Agent Hotchner. He looked nice and terrified when I yanked him out of bed not to long ago." Foyet said as he slammed the trunk lid closed then got in the driver's seat and started the engine. "You'd better wake the team Hotchner, the clock's already started."

"You won't get away with this Foyet."

"Should've made that deal Aaron, you brought this down on Reid." George said, then ended the call. He turned off the phone and took the battery out, tossing it out the window as he drove West, towards the suburbs.

Reid didn't know how long he was in the trunk of the Reaper's car. After nearly three hours of keeping count, Reid fell asleep, having already been exhausted from a long case and the slow loss of blood from the cuts on his arm eventually had him lulled to sleep with the rhythmic bumping of the car on the road.

He woke when Foyet yanked him from the car, and tossed him on to a large lawn of overgrown shin high grass. Reid could smell the grass as he was face first in it with no way to push himself up. He could feel it pricking against his skin and he squirmed on to his side, breathing heavily through his nose and trying to listen through the ducktape as Foyet gathered things from the car.

"We're going to get to the fun soon enough Doctor Reid, don't you worry." Foyet said and he grabbed Reid by his hair and dragged him through the grass. Reid's muffled screams of pain did nothing but make the man laugh.

"Scream all you want, this neighborhood's been vacant for a while, no one can hear you." The serial killer stated with amusement as he kicked open the front door of the abandon house he'd been squatting in. Then he pulled Reid over the threshold and tossed him on the floor between the mouse hole ridden couch and the threadbare rug and watched him squirm for a while.

Foyet finally shut the door with a slam, and watched Reid flinch and curl in on himself a little bit more. He smirked and pulled out his knife. He pushed Reid on to his back and straddled his chest. Reid cried out and struggled as best as he could under the weight.

"Don't move unless you want me to cut off an ear." Foyet warned before he began slicing the tape away layer by layer. He practically ate up the pathetic little whimpers and hiccups of pain that came from the young man beneath him. As his pale skin was revealed, it was blotchy and red. Those big brown eyes were watery, puffy and red when they finally came in to view as the last layer of ducktape was pulled away.

Foyet stared down at Reid and the young profiler stared back up at him. "You know, the last time someone looked at me like that, I spent seven hours cutting her in to ribbons." The Reaper said, his voice husky.

Reid paled and quickly looked away, his heart pounding.

"That's not much better, but I'll let it slide for now." Foyet said. "We're on a tight schedule Doctor Reid, I want to make sure you get the full treatment before Hotchner and the others come in to try and save the day." He ran the blade down Reid's cheek then across his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. Reid whimpered, and the drop of blood ran down his neck and dripped on to the floor.

It had been an entire day, and Foyet hadn't come in to the same room with Reid since he hung him by his arms in the basement hours ago. Reid was judging the time by the amount of sunlight he could see through the small basement window. It was over forty inches long, but only six and a half inches tall, not big enough for a person to squeeze through.

Reid was positive that Foyet had done it on purpose. Let him see how long he was being held captive. Watching the hours go by only added to the impending doom that was settling down on Reid's shoulders. He knew Foyet's profile, he'd studied it non-stop for over a month after he had attacked Hotch. He had of course known the profile when he read it when the Reaper's case had been reopened, over a year ago.

It was only a matter of time before Foyet came down the stairs and started to inflict whatever form of torture got him off; he'd probably document it some how, or make sure the scars would last, should Reid survive, so that he'd have the constant reminder of what Foyet had done to him. Reid let out a shaky breath, the balls of his feet and his toes were beginning to ache from being forced to stand on them for so long. Foyet had made sure that Reid's arms were pulled up enough so Reid couldn't put his feet flat on the floor. It kept him off balance, made it harder for him to fight. Not that Reid could put up much of a fight.

Reid was lost in his thoughts for another five hours, just as it was starting to get dark marking two days captive. One entire day, with his arms getting progressively number as the blood drained from them, then struggled to pump upwards back in to them. The balls of his feet and toes were raw from him struggling to stay on them or be forced to hang by the metal cuffs around his wrists.

Reid was exhausted, he needed to go to the bathroom and he was hungry and thirsty. He was starting to get dizzy, and pins and needles crawled up his legs.

The basement door opened, snapping Reid from his pitiful pain filled daze. His eyes struggled to focus on Foyet as he walked down the stairs, he was wearing the same jeans he'd worn the first day, but his shirt was different, it was a long sleeved chrisp, brand new white one, he was even making a show of still cutting off the tag with his huge black hunting knife.

Reid swallowed thickly. He was going to cover that shirt in Reid's blood, like a grotesque tye-dye.

"How are you feeling Spencer?" Foyet asked with a smile as he came to stand in front of the younger man. He looked up to examine the pinched expression on Reid's face and he grinned. "Looks like you're nice and comfortable." He said, then grabbed the hem of Reid's sleep shirt; an over sized FBI Academy navy blue t-shirt with the lettering in white. Reid flinched, loosing his balance, only Foyet's grip on his shirt kept him from sending himself swaying back and forth by his wrists again.

"W-what are you doing?" Reid asked, nervously looking down at the older man's hands as they worked the knife through the fabric of his shirt, and cut it open.

"When I've got the time, I like to see my work." Foyet said simply, tilting his head to the right as he examined the long pale expanse of Reid's torso. He still looked young, barely had any hair on him, a bit of light brown peach fuzz around his navel that thickened just a bit as it dipped in to the waistband of his sweatpants. His nipples were dusky pink.

Foyet licked his lips, absent mindedly reaching down to adjust his suddenly growing interest. Just like with the younger women who ended up under his knife, he took his time with Spencer. He started the cuts light, just deep enough to split the skin noticeably, not deep enough to scar. Just like the young women, Reid whimpered, whined, yelped and gasped at the pain, tears running prettily down his face.

Foyet spent two hours with his 'foreplay' where in he put over two dozen love bites over the expanse of Reid's torso and arms. Each ragged breath the boy took, sent stinging pain across his skin, and blood ran down the pale untouched skin between the marks. The sleeves of Foyet's white shirt were blood soaked up to the elbows by then. A few droplets splattered the front of his shirt as well, but Reid knew as soon as the stabbing started, more of his blood would be on that shirt.

Reid was dangling by his wrists now, no longer able to keep himself balanced on the balls of his feet. Blood trickled down his arms from his wrists and his hands had gone cold and his finger tips turning blue.

"P-Please let me down." Reid sobbed brokenly. Foyet stopped cleaning his knife and looked up at Reid. "P-Please, I'll... I'll do anything just l-let me down."

Foyet walked over to Reid, and reached up to cup his face in one hand, lifting Reid's sagging head so their eyes could meet. Reid wasn't even sure he'd felt the first stab at first. All that came from him was a confused groan as the intense pain flared in his abdomen.

"Don't worry, I've studied the human anatomy for a very long time Doctor Reid." Foyet said softly, slowly pulling the knife from the wound. A gush of blood followed, running hot and slick down to Reid's hip before soaking in to the bloodstained waistband of his pajama pants.

Reid's vision blackened dangerously and he gasped for air as the pain intensified even more.

"I won't hit anything vital. You won't end up with as many as I did, but you'll definitely had more than I gave Agent Hotchner, after all our bond is going to be even stronger than that, isn't it Spencer?" Foyet asked with a chuckle, running his thumb over Reid's lip, wiping away the drip of blood that came from his mouth.

The second stab was just a few inches to the right of the first, and after that, Reid didn't remember as unconsciousness finally took him.

Foyet growled in annoyance when Reid went limp, swaying back and forth dripping blood in a circular pattern on the floor. George humored the idea of taking a photo of it, it was strangely beautiful on the smooth concrete.

Foyet unhooked the young man and let him fall to the floor like a puppet after it's strings were cut. His long thin limbs spread out at odd angles and his shaggy hair stuck to his face, which was now half smeared in blood. He looked dead, it it wasn't for the tiny bit of color still in his cheeks, he would've passed for dead. Foyet took out one the burner phones he'd bought and took a picture of the young agent on the floor.

He tapped his bloody fingers on his chin as he made his way upstairs, debating on who he should send the picture too. Which team member would it have the heaviest impact on, besides Hotchner of course. Foyet was saving him something truly special.

By the time George had reached the bathroom on the second floor, he'd narrowed it down to, two team members. Morgan or Prentiss. He could honestly taste the fury that would be rolling off of Derek Morgan when he'd seen what the Reaper had done to his 'Pretty Boy'. Then there were calm under pressure Prentiss, she treated Reid like a little brother, she'd be silently boiling away with the desire for revenge. Foyet wondered, would Emily Prentiss even show the photo to Hotch and the others, or would she keep it hidden, as personal fuel for revenge.

George set the phone on the counter and stripped off his shirt and pants and stepped in to the shower. The water still ran and the water heater still worked even though the house had been abandoned for at least three years now. It was yet another house left over after the collapse of the housing market, no bank wanted to admit they owned the property, so it went unclaimed and a perfect home away from home for George.

His erection hadn't faded either, it stood proud and eager and instantly images of Reid came to his mind, fueling his lust. He turned the hot water on and as it mixed with the blood that covered his hand, George gripped his erection and began to stroke it firm and fast.

It didn't take him long to climax, images of Reid screaming in pain and that terrified expression in his doe brown eyes what finally got him over the edge. George braced himself with his forearms against the tile and he ducked his head beneath the spray of the water, watching the remaining swirls of blood make their way down the drain.

George licked his lips slowly. He decided that it would be best to wash Reid up, before he got him ready for Aaron's surprise. His mind made up on that, he grabbed the bottle of body wash and squeezed a healthy blob on to his hand and began soaping up his body.

As he was rinsing off, he also decided that he'd send the photo to both Prentiss and Morgan before smashing the phone. He could double his pleasure and maybe something unexpected would happen in his game.

When Reid woke up, he still hurt, but he was grateful, because that meant that he wasn't dead. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking the room in to focus. The section of the basement he was now looking at, had been the one he'd been in previously. Still covered in blood which was now starting to turn brown and dry. Reid was now handcuffed in a seated position with his arms above his head.

Even though he still had numbness in his arms, Reid was thankful to be tied up like this, at least he could sit, and the mattress was comfortable beneath him.

Wait, mattress?

Reid's confused eyes traveled down to the mattress that now laid beneath him, it was a full sized mattress, a little on the thin side, but firm enough. The pale orange sheets looked new. Reid noticed that there wasn't any blood on the sheets, so his wounds had stopped bleeding and he hadn't rubbed any of them back open in his sleep.

"I'm glad to see you're awake Spencer." Foyet's voice said from the top of the stairs and Reid froze, watching as the man came down the stairs drinking a bottle of water slowly. Reid swallowed reflexively, realizing how dry his mouth and throat were. "I hope you're ready to get started, our time is almost up."

Reid clenched his jaw and said nothing. The Reaper smirked in amusement, and screwed the cap back on the water bottle, and tossed it on the side of the bed, just out of Reid's reach. The man pulled his shirt over his head, and threw it on the floor. He ran a hand over his stomach, moving over some of the self inflicted scars. Reid found his eyes traveling to each one as quickly as possible, memorizing them so he could chart them later. Every bit of data counted, everything was useful, everything was part of the profile.

"You like what you see?" Foyet asked, his fingers tracing down the longest of his scars, just above his navel, it looked gruesome, but even a relatively shallow wound there would bleed heavily and look worse than it was. "You're going to get one just like this." The man promised, his other hand going to the knife on his belt.

Reid was breathing a bit heavier, and his eyes were widened with panic, he bit his tongue until it hurt to ground himself.

Everything he'd been through the past seventy-two hours had taught him something about Foyet. He wasn't going to kill Reid, or at least his actions hadn't supported the idea. He'd gotten Reid a mattress to lay on, that had to be a sign of mercy, or something... right?

"You look confused Spencer, is there something you'd like to ask me?" Foyet asked, and Reid looked at him, the man had unbuckled his belt and undone the button and zipper for the fly of his jeans. He moved to kneel on the bed, roughly in the middle, while Reid was pressed against the wall at the top of it. The Reaper smirked, pushing his pants and boxers down on his thighs, letting his cock spring out.

Reid's eyes went wide. "No, no no no no no." He whispered, shaking his head frantically.

"I told you those doe eyes of your were going to get you in to trouble, didn't I Spencer." Foyet chided, grabbing Reid's chin and stilling him. Foyet forced Reid to look at him. Reid looked absolutely delicious, his face pale, the dark circles around his eyes made them stand out all the more, wide and full of fear, puffy red from crying. His shaggy hair wild and framing his face.

Foyet grabbed the younger man's ankles and pulled him flat on the bed, his arms held above his head by handcuffs attached to a hook on the wall. Reid realized he was naked and began to kick his long legs. He landed one good kick to Foyet's face, which knocked the man back, he delivered another swift one to the man's gut.

When Foyet turned back around, Reid's moment of victory was crushed by the sadistic look on the man's face. He took his knife and stabbed it through both of Reid's hands, pinning them to the drywall. Reid screamed in pain, thrashing out with a sob.

"You're walking very thin line." Foyet warned, sliding his knees between Reid's thighs after he'd finally gone still. Foyet watched the blood run down Reid's arms as he moved between his legs, stopping only when Reid's legs were practically around his waist. He yanked the knife from Reid's hands, earning himself another sobbed cry of pain. His cock throbbed against the agent's surprisingly firm, round and smooth little ass.

He followed the blood's trail down Reid's trembling arms and over his shoulders. The serial killer decided, there wasn't enough blood for his liking. He sliced a gash across Reid's right shoulder, then another deeper one across his left pec, making sure it was deep enough to leave a scar. He stabbed the blade just above the boy's collar bone, and wiggled it back and fourth, loving the hoarse pleas for him to stop.

He used his left hand to probe between the cheeks of the doctor's ass, harshly shoving two fingers in to the Reid's tight pucker without a care. Reid's entire body arched and his feet scrambled for leverage, and he let out a sharp cry. George was so enraptured by watching Spencer's bloodied hands scratch at the walls that he didn't even notice the agent's pain. He quickly shoved a third finger in to Reid's spasming hole, thrusting them in and out despite his pained whines.

George stabbed Reid diagonally from his navel, the wound was shallow, but he twisted the knife to widen the tear.

"D-don't." He heard Reid demand clearly through his broken pleas and desperate begging.

George cocked his head slightly to the left, and looked down at the terrified genius below him, bloodied, young, broken, innocent, terrified, helpless and begging for mercy. The very idea had his cock pulsing hot and twitching. Foyet pulled his fingers out and slammed his cock in.

Reid wailed in agony, trying to bury his face in the mattress his bloodied hands clawing the dryway, leaving deep gouges. The Reaper was relentless, he began pounding in to the young agent's body the second it stopped convulsing so tightly around his cock that he couldn't move it. The tightness was like anything he'd ever felt before. George slowly pulled the knife from Reid's stomach, and tossed it off the mattress, he carefully ran his hands around the wounds, smearing blood over the entire front of Spencer's chest, over his shoulders and up his neck. Reid's body twitched, and he tried to pull himself away by his trembling arms, his legs useless spread around Foyet's body.

Every single fiber of Reid's body screamed in pain and his vision was beginning to go black from it. He knew his anus was torn, he'd felt it the second Foyet had thrust in to him so harshly, he'd felt the blood coat him slowly enough to help ease the pain.

Foyet raped him once more, though apparently the man had needed even more blood the second time around to stimulate his arousal. Which meant by the time he was actually penetrated, Reid had lost to much blood, and was practically unconcious.

Two more days had passed, making the total time of Reid's captivity, six days. Reid hadn't eaten, had only gotten one bottle of water, and had lost at an alarming amount of blood over the six day period. The mattress was now blood soaked and lay in the same corner where Reid had first been placed, the area where the mattress had been now lay empty, except for a pool of dried blood roughly in the shape of a mattress.

Reid was duck taped to a support beam in the center of the basement, equal distance between both spots. Foyet had stuck a note to his chest for Hotch, and had seemed quite pleasured when it stayed in place because of the blood on Reid's chest.

It was worse than with Tobais Hankel, the pain, the fear, the hopelessness. He'd already died once, he didn't want to die again, not like this...

The Reaper didn't come down to 'visit' him for the rest of the day. He heard the man walking around upstairs a lot however, moving furniture. Reid was to tired to speculate what the serial killer was thinking. After several hours of noise, it was quite just as the sun set.

Then sirens. The beautiful, wailing of police sirens in the distance reached Reid.

He managed to lift his head and look towards the window. The sound grew louder, and came closer and closer. Reid sobbed when he finally saw the flashing lights pull up around the house. He let his head fall back against support beam. He screamed for help when he heard the front door break open.

He cried for Morgan. He screamed for Jj and Emily. He sobbed for Rossi. He begged for Hotch.

It was Hotch who came down in to the basement, gun raised and kevlar vest tight against his chest. His eyes looked haunted as he took in the blood covered scene then his eyes landed on Reid. He dropped to his knees in front of his youngest agent, his stony outter shell cracked completely. He was crying as he cut the ducktape away from the beam and pulling Reid free.

Morgan and Jj were the next to in to the basement. Jj holding a blanket and Morgan was yelling on the phone at paramedics. Reid's eyes fluttered closed and he went limp in Hotch's arms.

Hotch rode in the ambulance with Reid, while Rossi took point, as the scene was processed. Morgan had promised Garcia to pick her up and drive her to the hospital. Prentiss and J.J. coordinated the search for Foyet from his last known location, the house where they'd found Reid. Of course, they'd been several hours behind the Reaper, and it infuriated Aaron.

He stared at the bloody note in his hands, the dull beeping of the heart rate monitor in his ears along with the wailing of the ambulance siren.

"Stop hunting me, and I'll stop hunting him."

In total, the doctors gave Reid over eight hundred and eleven stitches, fourteen of the thirty-six deep stab wounds that Foyet inflicted were expected to scar along with a half dozen of the smaller ones leaving thin lines as well. Hotch had even remembered to decline heavy narcotic pain killers on his behalf, which Reid was grateful his boss remembered despite everything.

Reid woke two days after he'd been found, still weak and in pain. Hotch was sitting at his bedside, Foyet's profile laying open on the bed table in front of him.

"H-Hotch?" Reid called softly, drawing the man's attention up from the paper work in front of him.

"Reid... Spencer I-... I'm so glad that you're okay." Hotch said.

Reid groggily looked over to his boss, saw the blood stained piece of paper in an evidence bag in his hand and closed his eyes tired. "Don't ever stop looking for him Hotch." Reid murmured, then swallowed thickly. "Promise me."

"I promise Reid, I will never rest until I end George Foyet." Hotch said. Reid cracked an eye open, to see the icy expression on Hotch's face, and decided not to question his choice of words. He was pretty sure that Hotch hadn't used the wrong words, he meant what he said.

Reid nodded tiredly. "Thank you Hotch." He whispered and let himself be whisked back to sleep.

End

I hope you enjoyed, no there wasn't a big blow out between Hotch and Foyet.

Thanks for Reading. Please, review, comment and feel free to leave your requests.