Author's Note: Criminal Minds belongs to CBS, not me.

Spencer leaned back against the headrest, the seatbelt secure over his chest and hips, watching the Georgia landscape roll by under the pleasant sunset. He'd always wanted to visit Georgia.

He reached over to adjust the air vents. "I could have driven, you know," he said.

"Nope," JJ said, grinning as she kept her eyes on the road. "I've heard what your driving is like. Not a chance." She bit back a yawn.

"If you're tired, I can-"

"Not a chance, Spence." JJ rolled her neck to crack it. "I'll be glad to get this interview over with, though. I'm more than ready to get back to the hotel. Take a shower, get dinner, go to sleep…"

"I don't think it'll take too long," Spencer said. "This guy was just a passerby to a possibly unrelated incident."

"We'll get in, we'll get out, we'll go home," JJ said. "Start again on the case tomorrow."

Spencer flipped through notes. "What's the witness's name?"

"Tobias Hankel."

He nodded and looked out the window. "It's getting dark," he remarked. "And we've been driving for a while."

"It shouldn't be too much longer," JJ said. "And then we'll get right back on the road and go back to the hotel."

"Good," Spencer sighed. He really had to pee- he probably should have gone before they left. Hopefully JJ was right and it wouldn't take too long.

The sun had set completely by the time they reached the Hankel place. February in Georgia was cool and pleasant during the day, but it was downright freezing at night. Spencer slid his hands in the pockets of his thin jacket and followed JJ up to the house.

Even in the dark he could tell the property wasn't well-kept. The front yard was mostly dirt and sparse grass, the house's paint was peeling and filthy, trash piled up by the cans as if it hadn't been collected in weeks. The front porch sagged and Spencer stepped carefully around the creaking boards. JJ knocked briskly.

"It's cold," she commented. She grinned up at him as she knocked a second time. "Maybe he's not home and we can head back now."

"Maybe," Spencer said. "I get the feeling whoever lives here doesn't like to leave very often."

"If he doesn't answer after the third try, we're leaving," JJ said. She moved to knock again, and the door handle jiggled. "Oh, spoke too soon."

A man in his thirties cracked the door open, his blond hair unkempt. He blinked at them without speaking. "Hi, Mr. Hankel?" JJ said.

He blinked again. "Uh...yeah?" he said meekly.

"Mr. Hankel, FBI, I'm Agent Jareau, and this is Agent Reid," JJ said. Spencer pulled his badge out of his pocket and held it up.

"FBI?" Tobias echoed.

The February breeze ruffled at Spencer's hair. "Uh, may we come in?" he asked.

"Um…" Tobias hesitated. He looked behind him into the house, then back at them. "I''m sorry, I don't let anyone in the house."

"Actually, I, uh, really have to, um…" Spencer said. "You know. Go?"

JJ raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"For thirty minutes," he mumbled.

"Why didn't you say something in the car?" JJ asked.

Now was not really the best time to argue like teenage siblings. "Uh, do you mind?" Spencer said, fixing what he hoped was a winning smile at Tobias.

Tobias glanced into the house again. "I'm sorry," he said. ."My father doesn't like it."

"Your father?" Spencer repeated. "You're, like...thirty."

JJ shot him a sharp look. "At what age can one start disrespecting the wishes of their parents?" Tobias said, unblinking.

JJ cleared her throat. "You witnessed something a few months ago that might be very helpful to us," she said.

"I did?" Tobias said, his eyes widening. He sounded guileless as a child.

"You saw someone go over a wall into a yard, you called the police?"

"Me?" Tobias echoed. He seemed genuinely confused.

"You didn't?" JJ said.

Tobias clung to the side of the door. "Sorry."

JJ frowned, trying to peer over his shoulder into the house. "Is there another Tobias Hankel here?"

"Just me and my father," Tobias said. "Charles."

"There's a report on file that lists you as calling 9-1-1," JJ pressed. "You were walking a dog."

"No, that's wrong, I don't have a dog," Tobias said.

"Oh," JJ said. "All right. Well, sorry to bother you, sir."

Tobias started to close the door. "Are you sure I can't just quickly use the-" Spencer cut in.

"Sorry. Have a good night."

The door closed with a creak and a firm latch of the lock. Spencer sighed. "That's weird," JJ said, half to herself as they walked away from the house. "Why bother calling the police in the first place if later, you're just going to pretend you didn't?"

Spencer frowned, the wind biting at his cheeks, and then stopped dead in his tracks. "To gauge the response time," he said.

"What?"

"If you were going to kill somebody, but you wanted to call the police first, what would you need to know?" Spencer said.

"How long it takes them to get there."

He took off running towards the west side of the house, trying to get a look inside. His mind was racing, putting pieces together.

"Reid?"

He found a window and peered inside. The room was cluttered, dusty, outdated. Tobias was pacing in the hallway, his hands at his mouth. Spencer watched him stride closer to the window, whimpering and mumbling into his hands. There was a wall of computer monitors, all different makes and models, playing a screensaver, but Tobias tapped the keyboards and they flashed back to life.

Webcam videos. Maybe live feeds. People going about their lives, not knowing that Tobias Hankel was spying on them. Spencer's jaw dropped.

And then Tobias turned. Their eyes locked.

"JJ!" Spencer called. Tobias bolted from the window; Spencer heard the screech of the front door and saw the man running full-tilt across the yard, towards the ramshackle barn. JJ jogged over to him, scowling. "He's the unsub! He's in the barn! Come on!"

He ran closer, JJ at his heels. The yard was lit by harsh white floodlights that highlighted every crack and divot in the ground. Spencer crouched down and pulled his gun out of the holster. "He's in here," he half-whispered.

JJ knelt beside him. "You sure?"

"You ever seen me pull this thing out when I wasn't?" he said. "Call Hotch."

JJ shook her head. "We're in the middle of nowhere, Reid," she said flatly. "We have no cell service."

"Right," he mumbled to himself. "Of course we have no service."

"What do we do?"

"I don't know. He's definitely in here," he said. JJ unholstered her gun, gripping the stock with both hands. "You cover the front, I'm gonna go around back. Hotch knows we came here. He'll come looking for us. We'll just wait him out!"

He scrambled to his feet. "No, Reid, are you sure…" Her protests died away as he ran around the side of the barn, stepping carefully around the junk heaped on the ground. A cornfield bordered the edge of the property, the stalks brittle and yellowed, and he could see rustling movement.

"JJ!" he called, keeping his voice down. "JJ, he's out back!"

He didn't wait for an answer, there wasn't time to wait. Without thinking, he followed the trampled path into the depths of the field.

His footsteps were too loud, but there was nothing he could to make them quieter. He could hear faster movement up ahead and he slowed down, ducking to stay hidden.

"Why you runnin' from them devils, boy?"

A different voice, slower and deeper, rounded in a southern accent. Spencer's blood ran cold. That had to be Hankel's father.

"They're FBI."

Tobias's voice, soft and scared. For a moment Spencer felt sorry for asking him why he still followed his father's rules. Maybe he didn't have a choice.

"They're devils! You're doing the lord's work. You got nothing to be afraid of."

He crept closer, following the sounds of the argument.

"I don't wanna do this anymore!"

A muffled thump, and a yelp like a kicked dog.

"Don't you disrespect me, boy."

More strikes.

"I'm sorry!"

"You don't got no choices when the lord summons you to do his work."

He could hear Charles Hankel hitting his son, heavy handed, over and over again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

Then he heard gunshots- several of them, and high pitched screaming.

He took off running through the field, his heart in his throat. I left her alone, it's all my fault, if anything happens to her-

He didn't hear anything. He stumbled to a stop, scanning for her. "JJ!" he shouted without thinking.

A fist connected with his jaw, throwing him to the ground. Spencer tumbled into the dirt, his gun falling from his fingertips. Tobias Hankel picked it up, looming over him, silhouetted in the dark against the dead cornstalks, and pointed the gun at his head.

"Wait, wait, wait," Spencer gasped. He held his hands up in surrender.

Tobias sniffled like he was holding back tears. "I couldn't stop him by myself," he whimpered, the gun trembling in his hand.

"Okay, okay," Spencer said, still struggling to catch his breath. He tried to scoot back, get his footing so he could stand up.

"I tried to warn everyone."

"Just relax, Mr. Hankel, all right?"

"Shoot him."

Spencer froze. It was Charles's voice, but it wasn't Charles speaking.

"I don't want to," Tobias whined.

And he saw Tobias change, his shoulders drawing up, his mouth thinning, his grip tightening on the gun. "I said, shoot him, you weakling," he said in Charles's low-pitched drawl. "He's a satan."

The posture dropped and Tobias let out a sob. "He didn't do anything!" he protested.

The change again, the firm anger in his face. "I won't tell you another time, boy," Charles said from Tobias's mouth. "Shoot him!"

Spencer held his breath. "You don't have to shoot me," he said in a low voice. "Tobias? I'll-"

Tobias's face fell for a moment, but he raised his chin and his eyes were hard and flint-like. "I rebuke you, Satan!" he bellowed, and he struck Spencer across the jaw.

He fell back into the dirt, gasping for breath. Stars danced above him in the dark night sky and for a brilliant moment he didn't know if they were real or not. Tobias gripped him by his right bicep and dragged him through the dirt, cornstalks falling in his wake. His hold slipped and he shoved the gun in his pocket, grabbing Spencer's hair with his other hand. Spencer bit back a yelp as Tobias's dirty hands dug into his hair.

The barn swam in his vision, looming larger as Tobias dragged him closer. "JJ," he called hoarsely.

Tobias pinned him up against the side of a rusted pickup truck and cuffed him across the cheek. "Silence, demon!" he snarled. Charles was still in control, clearly. "I rebuke you. I rebuke you in the name of the lord."

"I'm not a demon," Spencer said.

Tobias's eyes glinted in the dark. He took Spencer by the shoulders and threw him back against the cab of the truck. His head slammed into rusted metal, and mercifully everything went black.

JJ huddled in the dark corner of the barn. Every so often she reached into the pocket of her jacket and stared at the time. Minutes clicked by, but the service signal never returned.

She breathed in for four counts, held it for four, exhaled on eight. Reid will be back, she repeated to herself. He'll be back, once he takes care of Hankel.

She could see Reid running through the shadowed yard with his gangly uncoordinated gait, could hear Reid's voice, wound up high and tight with adrenaline. You cover the front, I'm gonna go around back. Hotch knows we came here. He'll come looking for us. We'll just wait him out!

"Wait him out," she repeated in the thick silence. "Wait him out."

She held the gun tight in her grip but she knew she was out of ammo. In the shadows she could make out the corpses of the dogs. She couldn't see the wet mattress where the missing woman had died, but she could smell the blood and the beginnings of decay, thick and cloying. Nausea clawed in her chest.

Breathe in for four, hold for four, exhale for eight.

Wait him out.

Wait for Reid.

Wait for Hotch.

Adrenaline began to fade in her body but she fought the fatigue. She had to stay on edge. Just in case.

The barn door clattered. Her heart leapt in her throat. Lights flashed, more than one.

Hankel. His father. The heap of viscera on the mattress ten feet away.

She tightened her grip on the gun, willed the last vestiges of her energy into her body, and jumped. "FBI!" she bellowed into the bright glare of multiple flashlights.

She could see shadows beyond the flashlights, silhouettes raising their guns, a jumbled buzz of voices shouting at her. "Don't move!" she screamed, her voice climbing. "Don't move!"

"JJ!" a voice yelled, sounding vaguely familiar, and she hesitated. "JJ, it's Morgan and Prentiss. It's okay." The gun trembled in her grasp and she started to lower her arms. She could Morgan now, concern written all over his face in the half light. "Are you hurt?"

Her arms fell to her sides. Prentiss came up beside her, catching her elbow and taking the gun before it fell from her fingers. "Tobias Hankel is the unsub," JJ told them, a tremor betrayed in her voice.

"Yeah, we know," Morgan said. She'd heard him use this voice a million times before, the calming approach to a victim. She wasn't a victim.

"I'm calling an ambulance," the sheriff said.

"Yeah," Morgan said, keeping his eyes trained on her face.

"We just thought he was a witness," she said, her voice still shaking. Morgan glanced at their surroundings and she saw his eyes widen at the sight of the dead dogs. "I had to kill them."

She could see the dogs lunging at her, snarling at her, teeth bared and saliva dripping. Her vision went white around the edges.

"JJ, where's Reid?" Morgan asked.

She thought of the remains on the mattress, the woman's blood caked on the dogs' jaws. "They just completely tore her apart," she whispered. "There's nothing even left-"

"JJ, look at me," Prentiss interrupted, firm and calm. JJ raised her head, and her vision started to clear. "Look at me. Where's Reid?"

JJ blinked. You cover the front, I'm gonna go around back.

"We split up," she said. "He said he was going to go in the back."

Morgan turned on his heel and ran out of the barn. JJ turned to Prentiss. "Is he not here?" she asked.

"We haven't seen him yet," Prentiss said. "He might still be tracking Hankel."

JJ dropped her head. The dogs were in her line of sight again, stiff and growing cold, blood reddening their teeth. She shivered.

Prentiss wrapped her arm tight around her shoulder. "Let's get you out of the barn," she said gently. "We'll let them look you over."

"I don't need an ambulance," JJ said. "I don't-"

Her boot sank into a pool of blood, dried around the edges and tacky in the middle. Her voice caught in her throat. "Come on," Prentiss said gently. "Let's get out of the barn."

JJ nodded, half closing her eyes. Prentiss's grip was reassuring, grounding. She allowed herself to be led outside into the night air; it was cold and smelled like impending rain and she let herself take a deep breath.

"JJ," Gideon said, and she looked up into his face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not hurt," she said, and her voice sounded steadier. "I'll be fine."

Gideon nodded. "Hotch and I are going to search the house," he said. "Prentiss, stay with her."

JJ folded her arms over her chest. "You don't have to watch me," she said. "Go help them look for Reid."

"It's all right," Prentiss said. "I'll stay with you till the ambulance gets here."

JJ stood in silence, and Prentiss didn't push for conversation. She was grateful for that. The ambulance made it to the farm, the red and blue lights casting cheerful colors over the grim landscape, and JJ waited with her head down as Prentiss sketched the situation to the EMTs.

"Ma'am? Why don't you have a seat, we'll get that bite on your arm looked at."

"Bite?" she repeated. She looked down at her forearm. Two perfect half circles of indentations slowly leaking blood. "Oh god…"

Prentiss gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be back," she promised.

They sat her down on the bumper of the ambulance, cleaned the wound, stitched the worst of it, bandaged her up. The sheriff hovered nearby, watching like a hawk. A light rain started to fall, soft and cold, soaking through her bloodied shirt and dampening her hair. One of the men shone lights in her eyes. "Ma'am, do you think you might have a concussion?" he asked.

"No, I didn't hit my head," she said.

Prentiss jogged back over from the barn and pulled the sheriff aside. 'Hey, is there any sign of him yet?" she asked.

He shook his head. "We got every one of our units on the road," he said. "He won't make it far."

An officer signaled the sheriff over; he walked over to a squad card. She caught Prentiss's eye. "You can't find Reid?"

Prentiss opened and closed her mouth. "Not yet," she said, but JJ recognized the way that close-lipped facial expression. That face meant it doesn't look good.

"Prentiss," Morgan said, and he took her by the arm, tugging her away. JJ strained to listen. "I think Reid followed him into the cornfield. It looks like somebody got dragged."

JJ's stomach twisted. Prentiss opened her mouth, but the sheriff caught their attention, half-shouting into his radio. "Yeah. You sure? We're on our way now."

"Hey," Prentiss said sharply. "What's going on?"

"The sheriff two towns over, he just gave directions to a man who fit Hankel's description. It's to a motor lodge in Fort Bend."

"Let's get Hotch and Gideon," Morgan said.

They left her behind. She sat on the bumper, cold rain matting down her hair and dripping down her spine. Her arm ached, and she relished the pain.

Spencer drifted in and out of consciousness, reaching just enough awareness to catch something before sinking back.

A scratchy, dirty blanket wrapped around his body.

A steady rocking motion under him.

The smell of gasoline and exhaust.

Faint voices, neither of them familiar.

He snapped back for a moment when Tobias pulled him out of the floor of the truck, his hands tight under his armpits, but everything went black again as his heels struck the ground.

Consciousness finally began to seep into his body. He was aware of the smell first, a burning smell, acrid, like melting bleach. His neck hurt, and he was cold. His jacket had been stripped from his body, silver handcuffs latched his wrists together. His right sleeve was rolled up to the elbow; his arm burned like he'd been stung by a bee or a wasp. The soft nape of his neck pressed into something hard and unyielding. He was propped up in a chair.

His eyes opened slowly. A single naked lightbulb dangled from the ceiling, blurring his vision. His mouth was so dry.

Tobias leaned into his line of vision and he flinched, unable to stop himself. "They're gone," Tobias said, but he didn't sound like Tobias. He didn't sound like Charles either.

"Who are they?" he rasped.

"It's just me now."

He swallowed hard, his throat was on fire. "Who... who are you?" he asked.

Tobias gazed at him, flat, emotionless, standing ramrod straight. "I'm Raphael," he said.

Raphael. The third unsub. Except there weren't three unsubs, there was one, with all three trapped inside, and Spencer was trapped with him.

The hot bleach smell burned his nose and he fought back the bile rising in his throat. "What's that smell?" he asked.

"They're burning fish hearts and livers," Raphael said. "Keeps away the devil."

Of course. It made sense. Tobias, or Charles, or Raphael- they were deeply rooted in the Old Testament. The worship of a deity of fire and brimstone who demanded sacrifices.

"They believe you can see inside men's minds."

"It's not true," Spencer said softly. "I study human behavior-"

"Sh, sh, sh," Raphael said, but there was nothing calming or reassuring in his voice. "I'm not interested in the arguments of men."

He picked up an old-fashioned revolver and opened the held out a single bullet. "You know that this is? It's God's will."

He slid the bullet into the chamber, gave it a spin, and clicked the action closed. Spencer tore his eyes away as Raphael aimed the gun at his forehead, inches away. "You don't have to do this," he said, a sob catching in his throat.

Rahael was resolute. "Now go, sinners, to your God," he said, low and calm, and he fired.

The gun clicked.

The empty chamber stayed silent.

Spencer let out a shuddering breath. Raphael drew the gun back. "You have been granted you a chance to repent," he said. "Take this reprieve as a chance to get right with the Lord, boy."

"The Lord wouldn't want you to keep me here," Spencer said.

Raphael froze, his back to him. "What right do you have to say that?"

He'd read the Bible before, a long time ago, but his mind was hazy. A verse from the book of Micah rose into his thoughts. "He has told you, O man, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"

Raphael stepped closer. "This is the Lord's justice," he said, and he drew his arm back. The silver barrel glinted in the dim light, and then Spencer knew nothing.

JJ sat on the porch steps, watching the rain fall. Most of the squad cars had left, and so had the ambulance. Her forearm throbbed almost pleasantly, reminding her she was still alive. They had already searched the cornfield, already turned the house apart. No sign of Reid. She kept her hands clasped on her knees. Hotch, Gideon, and Prentiss had all gone out with the sheriff to check out the motor lodge in Fort Bend.

They'll find him, she thought. They'll catch Hankel, and they'll bring back Reid, and everything will be all right.

The black SUVs pulled into the yard, headlights shining too bright. She stood up, covering her eyes, hope surging in her chest, and counted the people climbing out. Gideon, Prentiss, Hotch, Morgan.

No Reid.

"He wasn't there?" she asked, stepping down into the porch and into the cold rain.

"We met up with the sheriff and checked over the motor lodge thoroughly," Hotch said. That was a no. "We've got roadblocks set up and an APB out on Hankel's truck."

"Not even a sign of him?" JJ asked desperately.

Morgan gritted his teeth and walked past her into the house. He didn't even look at her. JJ watched him go. "I'm sure he's fine," Prentiss said. "Reid's clever. He'll get his way out. And he's still armed, isn't he?"

Hotch shook his head. "We found his gun and his jacket in the cornfield," he said.

JJ covered her mouth. "Oh, god," she whispered. Pretniss touched her arm and she shook her off.

"I want Garcia flown out here," Gideon said. "Hankel has a wall of computers and if anyone can figure out his system, it's her."

"I'll make the call," Hotch said. "Someone should stay here, in case Hankel comes back."

"I'll stay," JJ said immediately.

"No, I will," Morgan said.

Gideon held up his hands. "Hotch, you can go into town and make arrangements for Garcia," he said. "The rest of us will stay here. See what we can do."

"There's stacks of journals," Prentiss said. "We can go through them, see what we can find."

JJ pushed her hair away from her face. "I'll start," she said, and she walked into the house.

She didn't sleep that, fighting back the exhaustion that bit at her. Gideon stacked Hankel's journals in neat piles by year, handing them to her and Prentiss in turn. Morgan busied himself by digging through the house, searching for anything that might be useful.

She caught herself dozing off a few times, her head nodding towards her chest, but every time she started to fall asleep she saw Reid, his golden hair a mess, his hazel eyes bright, smiling at her with that eager lopsided grin, and she forced herself awake, forced herself to keep working.

Dawn crawled into the sky, the air sharp and a little chilly. No one spoke until the grind of gravel under tires shook them out of silence. "Hotch is back," Gideon said, and JJ swallowed down the lump in her throat.

Hotch opened the door, warped in its frame, and set a suitcase down on the ground. Garcia followed him, wide-eyed, her bright color out of place in the cluttered house. It looked worse in the light of day, a hoarder's paradise, covered in useless junk and grim from floor to ceiling. Garcia stared at her new surroundings, open-mouthed.

"Welcome to our nightmare," JJ said grimly.

Garcia looked shell-shocked. Gideon cleared his throat and she blinked rapidly, turning towards him. "His computer is an extension of his brain. I need you to dissect it," he said.

She nodded, still speechless. "I'll get you set up," Morgan said, taking her gently by the arm. "Come on."

He guided her out of the room. Hotch surveyed the piles on the table. "So, nothing new since I left?" he said.

"Well, the good thing is, the guy documented practically every second of his life," Prentiss said, picking up the nearest journal. "The bad news is, we're still unpiling."

"From the looks of it, he hasn't left this place in years," JJ said, looking down at the scrabbled handwriting across the page in her hands.

"He knew he could pretend to be looking for a motel and throw us off his trail," Prentiss said.

"No, no, no. It's more than that," Gideon said absently frowning at the book in his hands. "Sheriff's office, 911 calls. Every time he engages the police and gets away with it... he reassures himself." He shook his head, his eyes lost in thought. "God's on his side, not ours."

JJ rested her chin in her hand, absently chewing on her nails. "You think Garcia will find what we need on the computer?" she asked.

"If anyone can, it's Garcia," Prentiss said. She half smiled. "It's strange to see her out of her batcave and in the middle of a crime scene."

JJ closed her eyes. She saw Spencer. She forced her eyes open and reached for another journal.

Author's Notes:

It's a little bit of a slow burn in this chapter, but this is part one of four about the Hankel arc. This was the episode where I really fell in love with Reid and the BAU team family situation. Mostly Reid.

I'm bouncing back and forth between Reid and JJ's POVs for this, because JJ has all the guilt. So there's angst on both sides of the situation. Plus, part four is like...just whump. So much whump.

What are your headcanons for the Hankel arc, and afterwards? I've written about 24 pages' worth for addiction and recovery so far and doubtless there will be a lot more.

Lots of thanks and love from mnc7851, fishtrek, and nitrogentulips for reviewing! I appreciate y'all so much. And please, I love reviews and feedback and conversations, so feel free to leave a review or visit my tumblr (themetaphorgirl)

Up next: he had hope for a while, at least, but hope could only carry him so far