Feb. 11th: Sacrifice – Super Saturday word count – Pay an escalation cost for each add-on.

400 words – To escape you must leave one of your own people behind to be captured by the enemy.

+ 200 words – One of the escapees suffers from Heroic BSOD

+ 200 words – Add a heaping helping of Finagle's Law

+ 200 words – Everything ends up like this

Spencer Reid/Emily Prentiss

A/N: Apologies for falling behind on these prompts - it may not be February anymore, but I plan to finish posting the remainder of these over the next couple days. I would like to take a moment to thank everyone who's reviewed/favorited/followed thus far - as always, your support is greatly appreciated!

Also, I'd like to thank DeejayMil for giving me the story idea for this prompt.

And for those who may be unfamiliar with the "BSOD" abbreviation in the prompt above, it stands for "Blue Screen of Death". Charming, no?

Fire. There's fire. Why is there fire?

Emily. "Emily? Emily! EMILY!"

He's stumbling about, frantic. He can barely feel Morgan's hands trying to pull him back, can vaguely hear his friend's voice calling to him. "Reid! C'mon, man, you can't go back in there!"

He doesn't care, though. Emily's in there. He can't leave her alone, he just can't…

He hobbles back towards the compound, practically entranced by the dancing flames.

She'd laughed at him. "You actually look like you could be one of them," she said, running her fingers over his slicked back hair, her eyes sparkling with delight. "But in a cute way," she'd continued, her voice much more serious upon seeing him frown slightly.

He wasn't really offended by her joke. She knew that, right?

He can feel the heat from the flames as he moves closer and closer towards the compound. Somewhere behind him, people are still yelling his name.

He should've known this would happen. They all should've. They all knew about Waco. They should've prepared for this. Why weren't we prepared for this?

He hurries his pace as much as his throbbing ankle will allow. Almost there now.

He makes a slow circle of the outer perimeter of the building. No Emily standing anywhere outside. For a moment, he's grateful for the flames, as they allow him some light while he scans the area surrounding the building. No sign of her anywhere in the barren land nearby.

He tries to recall the last place he'd remembered seeing her in the building, and makes his way towards that section. The explosion had blown a door off its hinges, allowing for an opening. He breathes a sigh of relief and makes his way inside, dropping to his knees and attempting a steady crawl.

"Emily?" he croaks out. "Em -" A violent coughing fit ensues.

He keeps trying to call out, though. No answer. Is she hiding somewhere? Trapped? Maybe she's trying to call out, too, and he just can't hear her over the flames.

The flames creep towards his body, but he doesn't feel any fear. He can't. She showed no fear when she offered herself up to Cyrus. "It's not as bad as it looks," she'd told him, when he saw the dark spots covering her eye and cheeks.

If she could take it, so can he.

There's a flash of something dark on the floor. He's not sure if he's hallucinating. He drags himself towards the dark object anyway. It isn't until he's practically on the dark object that he knows what it is.

Hair.

Soft, silky hair at that.

Further examination, and he can actually feel his heart stopping.

No.

No, it's not her. It can't be her.

"Emily?" The word barely audible at this point. He tries shaking her.

She doesn't move.

There's blood everywhere. All he can think of are Cyrus' hands, cleaning away her blood, and he feels his own blood boil in response.

Her eyes are closed. He wants to open them, to see those warm brown eyes gazing into his one last time. He can't tell if his tears are because of the fire or his grief. Probably both. He lies down next to her, wrapping an arm around her body as he chokes out a sob.

I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you.

"Spencer?"

His head shoots up, and he glances at Emily's face. Her eyes still closed, her mouth isn't moving.

"Spence?"

He begins looking around frantically. Where's that coming from?

"Spencer..."

"Spencer!"

Reid jolted awake, falling into Emily's arms as she kept him from rolling off the couch.

"Whoa, whoa, easy, easy!" Emily murmured as she helped him settle back into his spot. "What on earth is the matter with you?"

Reid's heart was pounding as he stared at her. "You're alive," he breathed after a moment.

Emily blinked. "Um. Yes?" She furrowed her brow in confusion, before it dawned on her. "You had a nightmare," she said, her voice gentle.

Reid nodded, silently willing his heart to settle. "You were trapped in the building, and I...I tried to crawl in and save you, but I...I couldn't...". He shook his head. He couldn't even bear to finish the story.

Emily immediately settled next to Reid on the couch, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I'm right here, Spencer, okay? I'm fine. It's okay." She held him for a few moments, one hand on his cheek, the other softly stroking his upper back. Reid had placed a hand on her arm, gripping it tightly.

"I'm sorry," Reid said, pulling away.

"Don't be. Happens to all of us." Emily was pretty sure she'd have a few nightmares from this case as well. She couldn't get Kathy's devastated face out of her mind, or that gun pointed right at Reid's head.

"I should've said I was -"

Emily held up a hand. "Don't. We've been over that." She moved to slip her arms around his waist this time, flinching when Reid hissed and tried to shift away.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry! Did I -"

"No, no. Cyrus did that." Reid tried to hide a grimace as he clutched his side, missing the dark look on Emily's face at that news. "It's not that bad, though, really," he continued, when she didn't say anything. "Believe it or not, it hurt worse when Hotch kicked me in the stomach."

Emily's brows shot up at that last sentence. What?

Reid caught her stunned expression as he carefully resettled himself. "Oh, that's right. You weren't here for that. Long story." He gingerly stretched an arm out, inviting her to snuggle up against him. She did, being very careful to keep one hand on his chest, and the other between their bodies. And if his grip on her shoulders was a little tight, she wasn't about to complain. Reid draped the blanket around them, and the two sat in silence for a while.

Eventually, Reid heard Emily's breathing even out. She'd finally fallen asleep. He lightly kissed her forehead, moving his hand to stroke her hair, before resting his head against hers.

He tried to clear the horrible images from that dream, focusing once more on her eyes, her laugh, her beautiful smile. He let his mind drift to images of nights curled up together, watching movies, kissing, loving each other. Him reading poems to her, her regaling him with stories of her world travels. The change in thought worked, and he found himself relaxing to the point where he felt comfortable closing his eyes, too.

As he slowly drifted off, he dreamed of a white dress and small arms, and against her hair, he smiled.