A year ago, a very unusual series of events took place. They were all their own even mixes of irony and tragedy, but most of all, they are explanatory. If Rachel Lin, the person accompanying Kylie Harris on the fateful midnight drive, were still alive today, she could tell you all of it.

As it happens to be, the van that totaled Ms. Harris' truck was the one owned by a Mr. Jason Harris, her father. The father had left the house in total panic, finding his youngest daughter missing from her bedroom. He was protective of her, oddly protective. His delivery van, one for pharmaceutical deliveries to emergency rooms, had careened out of control near mid-town. It totaled the drivers side of his beloved daughters car, the force of mangled metal and shattered glass issuing Kylie a concussion. Approximately 4 seconds after impact, she would never see again.

Rachel was crushed as the call rolled, breaking her left arm and the majority of her ribs. What the morgue techs would never tell you was that she was still alive two minutes after the dust had settled. Her clear blue eyes connected with the sweating face of her friend's father, croaking out some horrible mockery of a scream. He looked bewildered, like this was a nightmare. His boot tip hit a shard of window glass, and using his bare hand, he picked it up. Using the correct angle, Jason shoved it full force into her chest. No one would know.

No one had to know. It was him who ruined his baby's life. A rather cunning plan for a man of low IQ. Who would check a car crash victim for traces of murder? It could be played off, she landed on the glass, piercing the walls of her heart. There would be no sense in bringing up foul play, especially to her grief stricken mothers.

To clarify, this was what spun through Reid's mind as he sat shotgun in a 2010 SUV. He'd checked the records as Prentis and JJ called (f/n)'s every contact and family member, checking to see if they'd heard anything. It all connected, a spiders web of blood.

It all fit their unsubs profile. Mr. Harris had certain visitation rights after the divorce (which was caused form the stress of having a disabled child). Meaning, he had his own home now. A rough shack just outside the outskirts of town. The perfect place to house Audrey and Agent (l/n).

Spencer was sweating bullets. If he lost one more person to the hands of some deranged killer, he didn't think he could make it back up again, out of that darkness. He wasn't sure about love or anything like that, but he did know he felt something very deep for her. Hands shaking, heart pounding, lip tingling deep.

'''''''''''

Horrified, you struggled to escape, to help, to get help, something! Audrey was on the floor now, blood gushing form her left eye. The man in question was holding a scalpel in one meaty hand, breathing heavy. Audrey was shrieking in pain, groping at her eye.

Jason looked so sad, almost regretful. He stepped forward, instrument in hand.

"Wait!" You yell, writhing on the bed frame.

He glances at you, seemingly disinterested.

"What did she ever do to you? Why are you hurting her?" You asked shakily.

"I just want to..." He sighed, placing a foot on her sternum to steady her. "I want to show my little girl, she's not ugly for who she is. Now there are so many girls in this world, with the same problem as her." He gestured to Audrey, as if that was an entirely plausible explanation.

"No you don't." The click of a gun's safety being switched echoed in the empty bedroom.

Spencer stood at rapt attention at the door, his handgun leveled. His voice was still calm and intelligent, as if we explaining a math problem.

Your breath hitched in your throat, for your Perseus had arrived.

"You want to kill your daughter. You're too much of a coward to do it. You use surrogates for her, you can't stand that your perfect daughter isn't perfect anymore."

"How dare you!" Harris growled, an achingly large realization in his eyes, stepping away from the red head.

He looked ready to charge.

Spencer waited for the man to lunge at him, furious, before a single bullet sent him. to the ground.

A bullet to the eye.