Contains what could be perceived as spoilers for 5x09, "100."

Hotch was doing the right thing. He knew he was doing the right thing by sending Dave in as the hostage negotiator. That was the one thing that he knew was the right choice to make by Prentiss and Reid right now. Yeah, Dave had picked up on the slight change in the demeanor of the two agents around one another, so he would handle it carefully, yet he didn't have the knowledge of just how "unique" of a "situation" they were dealing with here.

Yeah, he told Dave, he knew how bad this was, but Hotch was counting on the fact that Dave didn't entirely have that knowledge. Dave really didn't know how bad it was. Truth be told, neither man could really understand what exactly was probably going through the minds of Prentiss and Reid, knowing that the one person that they loved more than anyone in the world was being held at the hands of Cyrus along with them.

For a split second, Hotch allowed himself to picture Haley's heart-shaped face, to entertain the idea of what he might feel if he knew that she was in a life or death situation like this, being held by a man who wasn't afraid to kill her. He almost shuddered. He didn't know what he would feel; he couldn't even begin to imagine it. For that, he was glad. He didn't need his own imagination conjuring up even more emotions right now; the ones that he already had were far too close to the surface as it was.

That night was one of the longest nights of his life, and he'd had plenty long nights of which to speak. The next morning when Dave was getting ready to go in and meet Cyrus face to face, he was hardly feeling any better than he had the night before. The longer that Prentiss and Reid were in there, the more of a chance there was of any one of their secrets being found out. He could hardly bear the thought of it. If something happened to one of them – God forbid in front of the other – or let alone to both of them, then he knew already that he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

He almost collapsed with relief when Dave returned with the news that Prentiss and Reid were unharmed. At least for now.

If there was one thing that had been good about this situation so far, Spencer could consent that it was the fact that he and Emily had gone virtually unnoticed. One of Cyrus' right hand men had kept watch over them in the tunnel during the night and hadn't questioned it when, since no one had thought to give them blankets, Emily had curled into Spencer to sleep. Emily had slept fitfully at best, and he had slept even less then her, keeping watch over his wife because he didn't trust the look in the eyes of the man with the gun. At least when she was in his arms, he felt that he could insure her a small measure of safety.

But then morning had come and their captor had led them into the chapel. They had needed to become nothing but coworkers once again. They had been seated by the wall, the only two in a row of chairs. Until Rossi had come in, Emily had been leaning her head on his shoulder, emotionally and physically tired, and simply seeking what little comfort the small physical contact could give her. Maybe even doing that was pushing it – Spencer didn't know, but at this point he didn't care. Sometimes it was easiest to avoid detection when you were in a room full of people like the chapel was now. He draped his arm across the back of Emily's chair, not daring to pull her close like he so wanted to. Besides, he knew that it wouldn't be long and Emily would stop letting her wall down even this little bit and would slide entirely back into her hard knocks FBI persona. And that's what had happened when Rossi had entered the building.

When Rossi left again, all Spencer wanted to do was grab Emily and make a run for it right behind him, but he didn't. He couldn't . No matter how hard it was, he couldn't think of just Emily, he had to think of all of the innocent people still in the grip of Benjamin Cyrus. So he stayed.

But, oh, how he wished that he hadn't. How he wished he had followed his gut instinctsl grabbed his wife, and just fled. But he hadn't.

And the state of affairs was about to hit worst.

After the disturbing meeting in the chapel, Spencer and Emily were left back in the tunnel, and since the door only opened from the outside they were left there alone. Two blissful minutes passed with only the two of them, and in that time, Spencer told her he loved her and kissed Emily like he might never get the chance again. Truth be told, he might not.

Hearing footsteps approaching the entrance to the tunnel, they sprang apart, both landing in a seated position on boxes on opposite sides of the narrow tunnel. Spencer kept his expression neutral and looked at his hands. Emily combed her fingers through her hair. Both of them looked up as Benjamin Cyrus walked in followed by one of his armed men.

"Which one of you is it?" Cyrus asked, already glaring at Spencer. The genius's heart jumped to his throat as Cyrus pulled a gun from his belt and repeated, "Which one of you is the FBI agent?"

Emily could only gape as a moment of silence passed before Spencer managed to ask, glancing at Emily, "Why do you think one of us is a FBI agent?"

Cyrus cocked the gun and both Spencer's and Emily's eyes widened as the "prophet" said, "God will forgive me for what I must do."

He pointed the gun at Spencer's head, as Spencer insisted, "I'm not – I don't know what you're talking about."

"One of you dies," Cyrus declared, even his monotone coming across as chilling. "Who is it?"

And that's when Spencer heard the most awful word come off of his wife's lips, "Me."

Three chapters in one day! Yay! As always, reviews would make my day! Thanks!:)