A/N: Time for another chapter, my friends! (grins) We'll see just what this one has in store. But first, of course…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for you absolutely amazing reviews! (beams, and huggles every single one of you) This story has seriously grown on me. It meanst the world to know that I'm not the only one who enjoyes it. (grins from ear to ear)

Awkay, because I don't think that you're here for my ranting… Let's hit it! I truly hope that the ride pleases you.

Against the Hands of Time

Through the long, agonizing hours of the night the team worked furiously, the sheer force of despair driving them. Worked, searched, fought. And in his own hell Spencer fought as well, with every ounce of strength there was left in him. The least they could do was to make sure that the genius wasn't alone.

The others didn't ask a question when Derek offered to keep an eye on the miserably dark footage. Derek was glad. He didn't think that he would've been able to deliver any explanations, anyway. And so he sat there, his eyes never once leaving the screen, listening to Spencer's quiet, exhausted voice.

"He's… He's keeping me drugged. He's making sure… sure that I can't think clearly. I just… I want you to know that I'm not taking it willingly. I don't want it, I swear. I don't want any of it. Not even now." The despair in Spencer's voice nearly broke Derek's heart. Even in that nightmarish situation the genius was worried that they'd think less of him because of a long ago won war.

Derek would've given anything – anything – if he would've been able to offer words of comfort. If he would've had the chance to be there by Spencer's side. As it was he gulped loudly, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. He could do that much, at least. He liked to think that Spencer knew that he was there, that the genius knew that they hadn't given up.

It took a while before Spencer went on and for a moment Derek feared that the doctor had passed out. Or perhaps that would've been more merciful, all things considered. "I… I tried to take a look around, before the lights were switched off. I think that this is a cellar of some sort. The walls… They're made of stone. So is the floor. This room… I can't explain it but it smells old. It's… It's cold. It shouldn't be this cold in Alabama. Or maybe I'm just in a shock."

Derek could barely keep himself together. "We'll find you, kid. I promise", he whispered. "We'll get you out of there."

"He's… I don't think that he's listening in on us because the camera's still on. At least I think it is. Or then he just doesn't care. I… I don't know." That admission alone spoke volumes on just how tired Spencer was. The doctor's voice was even quieter than before. Derek struggled to hear as the speech went on. "Arranging… Arranging something like this… It must've taken time. And he… He must've come here often. His car… It has a GPS system. If you haven't yet… Give it a look. Aside home and work… This is his favorite spot."

Derek smiled, barely but still. "Already on it, pretty boy." All of a sudden walls of secrecy and bureaucracy were crashing down on them. The fact that Sykes had practically smashed the GPS system didn't make things any easier. But they were trying. Soon they'd have a report on all the locations Sykes had visited. He could only pray that Spencer would hang on until then.

The silence lasted unnervingly long until Spencer practically whispered. "I… I'm tired. Really tired. But… I've lost a lot of blood, and it's cold. I don't… I'm not sure if it's a good idea to go to sleep. I don't want to sleep."

Derek sighed, not even noticing how his breath shuddered. "Rest, kid. Just rest. We'll figure out how to get you out of there. Just hang in there."

Once again Spencer was quiet for a long time. Derek wondered if man had heard his suggestion, somehow, until a barely audible voice spoke. "If… If this doesn't end well… Make sure that my mom's looked after, okay? Make sure that she'll be alright. And… Tell Garcia that I want my mom to hear my voice. Make sure that she hears my voice, please."

Derek's mouth opened but in the end no words came out. There was nothing but silence. He could've sworn that he saw Spencer's form slump in the dark, finally succumbing to the sheer exhaustion. For the longest time Derek stared at the sceen, his eyes stinging hellishly. Then, gathering himself with steely determination, moved. If Spencer's observations were correct they might finally be getting somewhere.

On the wall the clock kept ticking mercilessly.

Once again Spencer was floating. Dreams mixed with reality. One moment he was playing chess with Jason. The next the man was cutting his skin with a long knife. He was hiding in a closet with his hands pressed to his ears and tears streaming down his face, trying not to listen to his mother screaming at people who didn't even exist. He was with Hankel once more. Only this time the man buried him alive.

Spencer lay there in a cold hole – in his grave – screaming and fighting with all there was in him, dying slowly.

And then his eyes really, truly opened. There was no red light. The camera had been switched off. Sebastian Sykes was right there before him, the man's face a unreadable mask. "You have fever", the killer announced.

Spencer nodded slowly, despite the fact that his head swayed dangerously as he did so. "The wounds…", he mumbled. "They're infected."

Sebastian sighed. "I was hoping that it'd take longer for that to happen. But no matter. I'm afraid that our time is running short, anyway." The man straightened his form slightly, moving behind Spencer's back. "I hope that you managed to say goodbye to your team. The next time that camera goes on you won't get the chance to."

Fever, pain and terror were making a mess of Spencer's head. He couldn't think, couldn't focus. To him it was a mortifying experience. He took a breath, only to realize that it didn't fit into his lungs. "There's another way", he whispered. "You don't have to do this."

Slowly, slowly Sebastian stepped before him and leaned closer. Spencer's heart hammered as he wondered what was going to happen, how much pain would be waiting for him this time. As it turned out he didn't have to face any pain. Instead a pair of lips met his. Gently, savouring every stolen second. The unwanted moment alone was so bizarre that Spencer wondered if he was still dreaming.

Sebastian pulled away. The magic was gone. There was nothing he would've been able to read in the man's eyes. "Your lips… They're poison. And your words attempt to sway me from my fated path. I can't allow that." What the man pulled out made Spencer feel even colder than he had before.

It was a gag, definitely. With a twist. The whole lace and the ball had sharp, metallic spikes. As soon as it'd be placed into his mouth…

Spencer's eyes widened and he gasped faintly without managing to control himself. "Sebastian…! You don't have to do this, I promise. You don't have to…"

"Shhh…" The device came closer. "I'd suggest you to stay very, very still and quiet now."

Before Spencer could brace himself at all the gag was already in place. Some spikes piercing the skin of his cheeks, the most painful part forced right into his mouth. Spencer trashed, wanted desperately to scream, but he could barely move. The taste of blood filled his mouth while a couple of tears ran down his cheeks, stinging hellishly as they ran over wounds.

A dream. Just a dream. This was just a dream. He'd wake up soon. He'd have to.

Instead of waking up, though, he felt Sebastian's hand. "Now, Spencer… Be very, very quiet. Don't make this hurt any more than this needs to."

Spencer remained very, very still and tense while the man pulled out a knife once more. The same knife that was still covered in his blood. It ventured on his form, searching, enjoying the feel right before the strike. And then, suddenly, it paused. It wasn't until then Spencer realized that he'd fidgeted.

"Oh, here? This is where you want me to make the next mark? Very well."

Spencer swallowed, gulping down a rather large amount of blood as he did. Paying no attention to the expression on his face Sebastian began to work on his shirt, lifting it up until his chest and stomach were revealed. For a couple of moments the man stared, as though lost in a world of his own. In a ocean of memories. Then, before Spencer could even flinch, the knife began to work on the exact spot he'd apparently signalled with twitching.

It sunk deeper than Spencer had anticipated and he gasped as far as it was possible with the horrendous gag in his mouth. He twisted his wrists and ankles, desperately attempted to find any way to get away from the torment, but there was no relief. Tears of pain and frustration filled his eyes when the knife kept moving calmly, evenly, Sebastian's eyes never wavering from his delicate work.

It was amusing, really, that something like this affected Spencer so after parts of him having been cut off. He didn't have the slightest clue of how long it took – a year, perhaps. But in the end Sebastian seemed satisfied with his work. Almost sure that he was making a huge mistake Spencer allowed his head to drop slightly, just enough to be able to see what'd been engraved to his skin. Through a little bit of blur a single bloodied word greeted him.

NO

Sebastian smiled at him, appearing much calmer than before. "You will die, Spencer. As my greatest masterpiece."

Although she was only forty-five on the day Sebastian Sykes (or James Grey, as she'd always know him) was hospitalized at the age of seventeen his mother's, Jean Summers', bright red hair began to turn grey. Her fiery eyes lost their spark. She made a habit out of not showing herself to too many people.

A lot of people came to her with open arms and words of sympathy while her son was still missing, perhaps even presumed dead. It was much harder to find such sympathy when she had a raging, destructive and potentially dangerous teenager in her hands. All comfort disappeared when her son was first spotted killing one of their neighbor's dogs.

These days Jean rarely got good news whenever her doorbell rang. That's why her heart skipped a beat when the extremely rare sound met her ears. Her dog Rex – a very large male Rottweiler – was immediately alerted and growled. She calmed the canine down with a single hand sign, then made her way to the door although it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Behind the door stood a man whose age was impossible to guess with already slightly greyish dark hair and even darker eyes. Even when he offered her a smile there was something that chilled her in those eyes. "Hello, Mrs. Summers."

Jean frowned, instinctively taking a step backwards. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested…"

The man shook his head. "I'm not here to sell anything, ma'am." The visitor showed her a badge. She couldn't tell if it was a fake or not even though she tried. "I'm agent Jason Gideon from the FBI. I came here to ask you some questions about your son."

Jean folded her arms but moved to let him enter anyhow. She never turned her back on him as he walked in and closed the door. "The police was already in. They asked everything possible. I can't imagine how you'd find something that they haven't figured out already."

Jason shrugged. "I'd like to try, if that's alright with you." Suddenly his expression became a lot more serious. "Mrs. Summers… I'm truly sorry for what you must've gone through. I've lost a son, so in a way I can understand. But you need to understand that your son is a very, very dangerous man. If we don't catch him now… there's no telling how many people he'll kill in the future. So please, help me stop him. So he can finally gain peace."

A huge part of Jean screamed that she shouldn't do this. That she was condemning her son. Handing him over to the devil. But the other part of her won. And so she told Jason everything, feeling no shame.

She told him of the little boy her son once was; happy, smiling, curious, loving. She told him of all those things they used to do together. She told him how she felt when he was gone – and when she finally got her son back. She even told Jason what it felt like to realize that the child who was once stolen from her had grown up to a teenager she couldn't even recognize. How furious, betrayed, sad and lost she felt upon understanding that she'd lost her son, after all. That the being handed back to her would never become the person she so very desperately wanted him to be.

"We… We fought so much, before I sent him to a hospital. Every day." There were tears in her eyes, on her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away. "He would always take off and come back hours later, out of breath and this… horrible look in his eyes. I followed him, once. He went to this old warehouse, right outside the city." She swallowed, tasting bile and betrayal. "He noticed me. You… You can't even imagine how angry he was. It was the first time he harmed me physically."

Jason's eyes were much sharper than before. She wasn't sure what to make of it. "Can you give me the address of that warehouse?"

Jean nodded cautiously, wondering just who she was dealing with. "Of course."

Less than two minutes later Jason was already leaving. She stopped him just before he was out. "Agent Gideon?" She shivered slightly, not quite knowing why. "Can you… Can you save my son?"

Jason looked at her, long and hard, before answering. "No. But I can save a lot of other people." He sighed, turning around and beginning to walk away. "I hope that one day you'll understand, even though you won't forgive me." The door was shut. She had no idea of which one of them closed it.

For a minute or so Jean stared at the door. Then, so suddenly that it scared her, she fell to the floor with her face buried into her hands. She'd never cried as hard as she did then.

The police station was uncomfortably hot and in the middle of a huge frenzy. Derek's head hurt while he stole a look towards his cell phone, mostly to have something reasonable to do while they didn't seem to be getting anywhere. No calls from Jason or Penelope.

He'd never been a very patient person. But this… This was driving him mad.

Derek's trail of thought was cut when he saw a familiar figure, slumped to the pretty much most isolated spot in the entire station. David was sitting there, head bowed, eyes closed and fingers crossed so tightly that knuckles had turned white. Firmly focused on a prayer.

Derek approached with a hint of hesitation in his steps, one eyebrow arched. "Do you think that that's going to help?" he inquired, trying to keep doubt from his voice and failing.

David shrugged, appearing just as frustrated, lost and anxious as he felt. "It's the only thing that I can do right now. Besides… What's the harm?"

Derek couldn't say anything to that. His own faith had been tried too hard, too often. He couldn't steal the older man's hope.

They needed to get Spencer back. If a prayer would do the trick…

They both jumped slightly when Derek's phone began to ring all of a sudden. It was Penelope. "Please, baby girl, tell me that you have good news."

"I know where he is, Derek!" She was screaming so loudly that it nearly blew up his eardrums. He didn't even notice the volume. "The… The GPS-system… It wasn't completely trashed! I've got a possible location! There's this warehouse, right outside the city…"

Derek was running before she could even finish properly, his heart racing and his mind begging, pleading, full of desperate hope. It took less than thirty seconds before he'd found the rest of the team. In five minutes they were all running, hoping with their all that they weren't too late already. That Spencer's time hadn't run out.

As the rest of the team rushed into action JJ stayed behind, unsure of what held her back. She turned towards the computer screen. What she discovered made her whole world tilt. Her legs went so weak that it was a miracle that she didn't fall down.

The basement's camera… It'd been switched on at some point. Spencer was right there before her, bloodied and barely conscious. Beside the genius stood Sebastian Sykes. The killer didn't speak, instead revealed a piece of text that made the bottom drop from her world.

'I HOPE THAT YOU SAID YOUR GOODBYES. BECAUSE HIS TIME IS UP.'

Once again Spencer drifted in the confusing world of illusions, dreams and memories. He was with his mother. He was with his team. He relived every single one of his best and worst moments, only to find that they were tainted. Blurry. Things twisted around inside his head. It was impossible to tell what was real and what wasn't.

And then he woke up to a sensation of suffocating.

Struggling the best as he could while his eyes flew open Spencer attempted to breathe, tried to escape. Tried to do anything to relieve himself. To get rid of the hellish burning underneath his ribcage and inside his mouth.

Sebastian smiled down at him. There was a by then empty bucket in the man's hand. The water the man threw at him was ice cold. "I needed you to wake up. This little spectacle of ours is close to its finale."

Spencer's eyes widened while realization dawned. His whole body began to shake from much more than cold and fever. Once again there was no air in his lungs.

No…!

The camera was blinking once more. The look on Sebastian's face was such he'd never seen before. The man was dressed to nothing but a black bathrobe. "Now, Spencer, with our audience hopefully watching… Your time's up."

TBC

A/N: Uh huh, it sure looks like time's running out. How fast, exactly, can they get to Reid? (gulps)

Please, do let me know your thoughts! Was this a hit or did this flatline? I'd be insanely happy to hear from you.

As you may imagine, there's only a little bit of this story left. (cries) Two more chapters and a epilogue to go, guys. We'll see just what unfolds… Next time up, 'The Final Cut'.

Until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll be seeing each and every single one of you there.

Take care!