A/N: written for Fic War on tumblr. Im a horrible person I know. Don't kill me. This is loosely based on the song "Kim" by Eminem.
Ian stood silently over Declan's bed. He was so big now. He'd missed out on so much. He didn't want to wake him but the shrieks coming from the living room, destroyed the serene moment he was in.
He stalked back out to the living room, where a battered Emily Prentiss was trying to stand up. The shrieks that came from her sounded unhuman. He backhanded her as she clutched the chair trying to stand up.
"SIT DOWN. You move again, I'll fucking kill you!" He yelled.
"Wh-why are you doing this?" She coughed. He'd kicked her repeatedly in the ribs, and she knew for certain they were broken. She had woken up on the couch to a ruckus coming from the kitchen, next thing she knew, Aaron fell through the doorway, dead. Immediately she knew who was in their home. And she knew she was going to die...
"You think I'd let you get away with this?!" He screamed, she winced. "Oh, AM I TOO LOUD FOR YOU?" He screamed again, getting in her face. "Too bad, you're gonna hear me out this time. HOW COULD YOU LET HIM SLEEP IN OUR BED?!" He asked grabbing her hair to make her look him in the eye. Her eyes flickered over to the dead bodies laying on the living room floor.
Hatred filled her voice as she growled viciously, "Its not your bed anymore, Ian. It was ours, you son of bitch."
She knew that would send him into a jealous rage and, she was not wrong as his foot collided with her eye socket.
"He isn't so pretty now is he, Love?" Ian whispered as she sobbed, looking at Hotch's dead lifeless body, face stabbed multiple times.
"You're never gonna get away with this!" She spat, still defiant.
"You think I give a fuck?" Ian said laughing evilly.
"Theres a fucking 4 year old with a slit throat in your living room, and your prints are ALL over that knife!" Ian chuckled, she refused to look at the little boy, she'd adopted as her own. She had a habit for doing that didn't she? She had thrown herself in front of Jack as he'd awoken when he'd heard the commotion and come running into the living room. She'd earned a bullet in her hip for that one. She'd watched powerlessly as Ian murdered the innocent child and she vowed would not stop fighting until she killed him.
She whimpered, "And you're gonna slash your own throat so now it's gonna be a double homicide and suicide with no note, see?" Ian said sadistically. "You loved them didn't you?"
"Ian, I love yo—" She tried a new tactic, and he was prepared.
"BULLSHIT YOU FUCKING BITCH DON'T LIE TO ME!" He said throwing her by the hair across the room into the TV.
"We're gonna go a for a ride now." He said yanking her by the hair again. She scratched futilely at his hands, but she had no nails. She was a biter.
He laughed.
"We can't leave Declan! What if he wakes up?!" She cried
"We'll be right, back, Well I will. You'll be dead."
Emily yelled as loud as she could, screaming for Declan to wake up, "DECLAN! DECLAN!"
"He can't hear you love, he's sick. Remember? Cough syrup with codeine? That boy could sleep through the Apocalypse."
She sobbed. When she'd agreed to marry Hotch, she'd never feared her past would come back to haunt her. She'd buried it so deep down and tried to make a new life for herself and Declan. Ian was a painful and distant memory. So she'd thought...
Ian just laughed. He was crazy, he knew it. But if he couldn't have Emily, no one would.