Well, I'm not sure what everyone else thought of the new episode of CM, but I thought the ending blew chunks...of a certain character's brain matter all over the floor. Needless to say I was both shocked and appalled at the ending. I made a bet with my roommate that there was NO WAY the writers would kill her off so soon after introducing her...and I lost.

ANYWAY...my story will end the CORRECT way.

Chapter 3: Vanilla and Coffee

The drive to Thomas' house was one of the tensest that Reid could ever remember, and he'd been on some pretty tense car rides in his short life.

The urge to press his foot to the floor was strong and his knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the wheel and, if that wasn't enough, Morgan's eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face. However, he had spent many years studiously ignoring Morgan's Big Brother stares and was managing to just that, with no small amount of success. At least until the other agent spoke out loud and he was forced to hear it.

"We'll get her, Reid. She's gonna be fine."

"Save it, Morgan." He spat back, irritated with the man for even thinking, let alone speaking, what he'd just said. "Don't feed me the same lies we tell to victims' families."

"Reid, I wasn't trying to-"

"The reality of the situation is we might not get there in time." Reid interrupted, turning the SUV around a street corner without slowing, causing an unprepared Morgan to slam into the passenger door. "That's always the reality of the situation." His hand tightened on the steering wheel.

God, what was that psychopath doing to her right now? Was she tied to a chair? Chained to the wall? Had he gagged her after she'd screamed for him? He rested his elbow on the window edge and began chewing on his thumbnail as images of past crime scenes flashed ruthlessly through his head, relentless, sickening to the point where he thought he might have pulled over to vomit if he hadn't been so pressed for time.

"...figured this out fast, Reid."

The young genius blinked, passing a hand over his face when he realized Morgan had been talking this whole time. When he didn't react though, Morgan continued to stare at him as if waiting for a response.

"Did you hear me?" the older agent asked.

"We're here."

His left foot hit the dirt of the driveway before the vehicle had even come to a full stop and, as he trotted up the front path, Morgan, Hotch and Rossi following, he couldn't help but cast a distasteful eye over the property. To be fair, he was a tad biased, but even so, he thought that most people would consider the house and yard to be, at the very least, unkempt looking.

Weeds had overrun most of the old flower beds and twisted up between a crumbling white picket fence, their vines and leaves shrivelled and dead. Paint was peeling off the house in long strips, making the building look as if it had been mauled by a giant tiger. The screen door on the porch was hanging pitifully on a single rusty hinge, the screen itself clinging precariously to the frame in only a few spots.

"He must have left in a hurry." Morgan noted as he pushed gently on the door and it swung inward.

Reid pulled his critical gaze from the nasty looking, thorny vine that had wedged itself between the side of the house and the only shutter left on all the windows, popping it off it's bottom hinge.

He followed the other men into the house, slapping a hand to his nose and mouth when a horrible stench rammed itself rudely up his nostrils.

"Oh man!" He heard Morgan cry, unable to see him through the blurry tears in his eyes.

Rossi had pulled a hankerchief from his pocket and was using it to cover his nose and mouth and Reid glanced over at his boss, doing a double take when he saw nothing but a slightly deeper frown than usual on the man's face.

After his eyes had stopped watering, Spencer began to make his way through the small house. From where he stood in the front hall he could see a kitchen off to his right, a stairwell in front of him as well as a hallway to what he assumed was probably the back door and to his left was a sitting area. From what he could see from where he stood, the inside of the house looked about as well taken care of as the outside, only without the added benefit of being exposed to the air to whisk away the stench.

"There has to be a dead cat in here, or something." Morgan sounded pained when he spoke, like he was trying not to breath.

Hotch and Rossi went into the kitchen and Morgan started up the stairs, perhaps hopping it would stink less up there, so Spencer moved cautiously into the living room. Within a few seconds he counted one hundred and forty two books stacked haphazardly on a large table by the wall. Strangely, he saw no other books anywhere in the room, not even on the large bookshelf that took up the whole opposite wall.

He quickly scanned the titles of the first stack, noting with a sickening twist in his gut that they all shared the same topic. Genetics and various sub categories.

Over by the large bay window, under which sat an ancient looking wooden chest, a flash from a stain glass ornament that caught the sun made him look over.

His eyes fell to the chest, his nose wrinkling as he walked to it. The smell was getting worse.

He touched the surface and the wood felt hot under his palm from where it had been bathed in sun day in and day out. He stood back up and pulled his shirt sleeve down over his hand, using it to cover his mouth and nose, and then balanced on one foot as he used the other to kick open the lid of the trunk.

He nearly screeched when a cloud of flies buzzed out and immediately started pinging off the window.

He heard two sets of footsteps behind him as he quickly backed away from the disgusting site.

"I see you've found the source of the smell." Rossi mumbled through his hankerchief. "What the hell is in there?"

Now doubled over in an attempt to quell the wave of nausea, Reid scrunched his eyes shut. "Cats. I think."

"Hey guys, up here!"

Morgan's call was a welcome excuse to leave the room and the three of them climbed the stairs in single file.

"It's so much cleaner up here." Rossi exclaimed in surprise.

"Smells better too." Hotch contributed, his black eyes spotting the open window at the end of the hall. The tattered curtains were blowing gently, signifying that at least some air had been allowed in to the house.

Reid's head swiveled back and forth as he walked down the long hallway, looking for the bedroom. When he spotted it, he strode in, eyes scanning expertly for anything of significance. Of course the first thing he noticed was the large shrine which took up most of the wall opposite the bed, likely so the man could stare at it as he fell asleep. The thought of this creep staring at the hundreds of pictures of Maeve that he'd painstakingly tacked up made Reid simultaneously want to vomit and punch a hole in the wall.

He tore his eyes away, forcing himself to keep looking for anything that might tell him where this man might have taken her. He flung open the man's closet doors, lips pressed in a firm line. It was a relatively ordinary looking closet, especially when compared with the decrepid state of the rest of the house, but one thing stood out. A book case had been crammed into the small closet and on it's shelves were nothing but note books. And lots of them.

He sighed, beginning to gather them up and dump them on the bed. It was going to taker longer than he would have liked to read them all, even with his freakish ability to read ridiculously fast, but he also knew that these were likely journals the man had kept on his obsession and may hold the key to where he had taken Maeve.

As he opened the first note book to the first page he let Morgan, Hotch and Rossi's voices wash over him.

"Ok, so we obviously have a man who is completely consumed by his obsession." Morgan was saying, looking around the room briefly, "So much so that he's let his house fall apart around him."

Hotch was quietly observing the wall of photo's, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were strolling through an art gallery.

"Let's not forget the three dead cats in the chest by the window." Rossi mumbled. "He was so preoccupied that his pets starved to death."

Reid blinked, trying to push his eyes into sending the written words from the journal into his brain even faster.

'She is so beautiful. She is so perfect. Her hair like a flowing river in the light of the moon...'

He had skimmed through most of the first book, finding little else but gushing words of undying love and the same kinds of love addled word vomit that most teenagers would write about their first crushes.

"God..." he muttered, slightly disgusted, tossing the book on the floor. He took a moment to look for the least worn books, signifying the most recent writings. He spotted three with the edges still sharp and the price tag still on and snatched them up, crossing his legs underneath him.

"What have you got Reid?" Hotch asked, turning from the wall of photos.

"Journals." He said dismissively, trying not to lose his focus.

His eyes snapped back and forth across the page at top speed.

'Someone else. There is someone else. She didn't say. She never says but I know I can tell. I can always tell. She lied to me. Lies lies LIES...'

"Getting closer." he murmured flipping to the next page.

The bed dipped beside him as Morgan sat down and grabbed one of the newer books that Reid had picked out. He'd only read for a few minutes before he snapped the book shut, "This guy is definitely detached from reality."

Reid closed the journal he'd just finished and held his hand out to Morgan for the other one. "So far I've only read two of them but they were both just ramblings. They give nothing away."

"Keep reading, I'm going to check the other rooms and see if there is anything useful." Rossi said, walking back out into the hall. Hotch followed close behind.

Spencer was feeling frustrated, his eyes now only skimming for key words and phrases as he turned a page every two seconds. Finally a string of words, scribbled messily and quickly, obviously fueled by the urgency of strong emotion, caught his attention.

'This has to end. I've had enough. If she refuses to see what I have been trying to show her then she leaves me no choice. If she wont be with me then she won't be with anyone.'

His eyes jumped down to the next paragraph, hoping the man might have been stupid enough to write a detailed account of his plans. But after turning several pages, he found nothing particularly helpful except a vaguely mentioned 'location' that had been purchased for the purpose of executing of his plans.

He chucked the book into the open closet with a bit more force than necessary and cursed.

"Nothing but psychotic ramblings and the less than helpful mention of a property." he mumbled, sensing the question in Morgan's stare.

"Hey guys I think I found something!"

Sharing a quick glance, Morgan and Reid left the bedroom to answer Rossi's call.

"Speak your wishes, my white chocolate beauty, and I shall grant them!"

"Garcia, can you search for all properties in Virginia that have the last name Freeman listed as the owner?"

There was silence on the other end for a second and then. "Er, well..."

"How many?"

"Seventy eight."

"Seventy...seriously?! Ok. Uh, Ok." Reid fisted his hair in frustration, scrunching his eyes shut as he tried to think. "Ok, narrow it down with the first name Thomas."

"Oh...just one." She rattled off the address and Reid cursed.

"That's were we are now. Ok, what about his parents? Jane and Brian Freeman?"

More taping in the background.

"Well they had another residence besides the one that Thomas inherited when they died, but it was put up for sale and sold three years ago. Hang on one second...OK! Here we go junior G-man, a Jane Wilson purchased an old textile factory exactly one month ago today-"

"Who the hell is Jane Wilson?" Reid interrupted, trying not to feel too hopeful about what he thought Garcia might be about to tell him.

"That, my tasty little slim jim, is Thomas Freeman's deceased mother's maiden name. Sending the address to all your cell's as we speak. Garcia out!"

Reid hung up and turned around just as the other men's phones all beeped at the same time, signifying they had received the address.

"Shit. That's thirty miles outside of town!" Morgan exclaimed, running a hand over his bald head.

As they made their way back to the SUVs Spencer's brain was working in overdrive. Why the hell would that idiot Freeman buy a place so far out of town? Did he think that would somehow increase his chances of not being found? And if he went so far as to forge his dead mother's name to the papers why not just make up a name altogether? That way it would have been nearly impossible to trace the property back to Thomas.

He slammed his hands against the steering wheel in anger, making Morgan jump in the passenger seat. "This doesn't make any god damn sense!"

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, blinking rapidly, obviously still taken aback by Reid's outburst.

"Come on, Derek! Why the hell would this guy sign his dead mother's name on the papers for the house instead of playing it safe and just making up a name? He can't be that stupid." he sighed. "What if...what if we're walking into a trap. What if he bought this property, forged his mother's name on the documents, just to throw us off the trail. He knew it would be the first weird thing to pop up in our system and that we'd be all over it."

The other agent seemed not to know what to say and he took a few moments to consider his words carefully.

"Ok, say this is a decoy-"

"Then we're wasting time-"

"-but say that Freeman just is that stupid! We're talking about a guy that has lost touch with reality in every way, Reid. This guy isn't thinking rationally man, there is a good chance that him signing his mother's name to those papers was his...unhinged mind coming up with the solution to a problem."

He sighed heavily, "Yeah. Maybe."

The drive to the old factory took them over forty-five minutes and by the time they got there the sun had sunk lower toward the horizon, casting long shadows on the ground.

It was obvious as soon as they stepped foot into the old building that the place had been abandoned long before it had been purchased by Thomas Freeman and, despite that fact that it was well outside of city limits and several miles from anything else, it seemed as if squatters and delinquents had still migrated to it. Graffiti, garbage and damages abounded in the old structure.

They picked their way quickly but quietly through the place, guns firmly in hand and held steady before them, Reid leading their small party. Before long, the sound of voices, muffled and distorted by mouldy walls and piles of trash, reached Reid's ears.

After picking their way through a large, open space that was littered with unused machinery, they came to a rusted metal door and stopped, looking at each other.

"Goes to the basement." Morgan whispered, pointing to the sign next to the door. "Reid those voices might have been coming through vents of something. If they're in the basement this door might be the only way in and out. That doesn't make me feel too good about going down there."

Hotch and Rossi were looking grim.

Spencer licked his lips, thinking. "Maybe they're just squatters or kids?" The others looked skeptical and he sighed. "Fine." he turned the knob on the door slowly so as not to make any noise. "You guys can stay up here and if you hear gunfire-"

"Screw that!" Morgan snapped. "You and me will go down and Hotch and Rossi will stay up here and listen for trouble. You can't go down alone, Reid."

As the two agents descended the poorly lit stair case, the voices became clearer.

They were getting close.

He followed a bend in the hallway they were sneaking down, then took the next left turn and suddenly found himself looking into an open area, right in the middle of which sat Meave, bound to a rickety old wooden chair. His heart ached at the sight of her tear-stained face and her wide frightened eyes.

His hand clenched around his gun when he spotted the tall man standing before her, his back to the small hallway where he and Morgan crouched behind the wall.

The two agents looked at each other, nodded once and snuck out from their hiding spot.

To her credit, Meave didn't even spare them a glance, which left Reid feeling both impressed with her ability to keep calm and relieved that she had not given away their position.

Astonishingly, Thomas was so engrossed in his own speech that Reid managed to get within three feet of him, aiming the barrel of his gun right at the back of the man's head. It was Morgan flanking him that finally shut Thomas up and caused him to jump in surprise.

But an arrogant smirk was back in place almost instantly as his eyes wandered down to the gun in Morgan's hand as if the agent were a child wielding a toy. "You came alone? How...stupid."

Grinding his teeth and trying to keep his anger in check, Reid ground out, "Drop the gun, Thomas."

The man jumped again, clearly not having been aware of Reid standing behind him, and turned, the gun in his hand raising slightly as he did so.

That was all the reason Spencer needed and he firmly squeezed the trigger.

The sound of the bullet shattering Thomas' skull and ripping through his brain was mixed tortuously with Meave's horrified scream and in the ensuing silence, Spencer's gut twisted as he raised his eyes from Thomas' corpse to meet Morgan's shocked gaze. He blinked several times, unable to look at Meave, afraid of what he might see in her eyes.

Suddenly the rest of his team spilled into the room, quickly filling in the blanks of the story with a quick glance around.

And then her hands were on his shoulders, gripping with a strength he used to pull himself back down to earth. Her skin was velvety smooth when she brought a palm to his cheek and finally he looked her in the eye and saw only concern there.

"Spencer?" she whispered, as if unsure he was aware of his surroundings.

His eyes started to sting, "I'm sorry." though he was not entirely sure what it was he was apologizing for.

She simply shook her head, a small, sad smile on her full lips, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Closing his eyes and dragging a breath through his nose he noticed she smelled like vanilla and coffee and he mumbled into her hair with a smile, "I love you."

END

Ok...so I know I didn't really write Thomas' final speech or anything but to be honest I really just didn't have it in me. My apologies for the corny ending...I don't usually write sap like that.

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