When Reid came home the next night, he came home to find an infant sized, candy corn Halloween costume, draped over his brown leather armchair. He registered that it was out of the ordinary, but having been exhausted far beyond the point of curiosity, he simply dropped his go-bag at the side of the chair and went upstairs looking for Maeve.

"Maeve! I'm home…" he called out. He knew she was too, her car had been in the driveway. Yet the house was quiet, the TV wasn't tuned to a scientific documentary, the radio was silent, there were no footsteps coming from the second floor. "Maeve? Where are you?" he asked.

"Up here!" he heard her call out from the master bedroom.

He only saw her for a split second before he felt her wrap her arms around him.

"Welcome home," she said.

"Thanks" he replied. He could tell that something had changed. There was something different in her affect, the look in her eye… something was up… yet jet lag kept him from deciphering exactly what. Contrary to what most people might believe…he was utterly awful at reading people…the natural ability for which, was almost completely lost on him. It was only his quick mind and vast knowledge of psychology and sociology that served to counteract this; and right now he just didn't have the energy to filter her unusual behavior through his computer-like brain.

"How was New Mexico…?"

"We managed to save eight victims…" he told her. He had no desire to go into what the Unsub had done to the other twelve victims that they hadn't managed to save, that was something that actually made him wish he didn't have an eidetic memory.

"Good" she said, acutely aware that he didn't want to go into too much detail about this one, the look of sheer exhaustion clearly written all over his face told her that.

"What about you? Did anything interesting happen around here while I was gone?"

It was her first chance to tell him, but she hesitated. It was almost midnight now, and he seemed so tired. When it came down to it, so was she…

"Maeve…" He said. "I know there's something, there has to be. I can't explain it but you're holding something back. What is it?"

"Well…Spencer…"

"Maeve…?"

"We can talk about it in the morning…" She said.

"Maeve, are you sure?"

"Yeah…it can wait. We're both tired, let's get some sleep…"

"Ok…" he replied in agreement.

In his dream that night, Spencer was back in New Mexico. The Unsub had another victim, a girl…two years old just like the others. He didn't understand how he knew that, he simply knew. He had to get her out. He just had to.

He and the team infiltrated the secondary location, which looked exactly like the real one. Just like in the actual case, they found the Unsub holding the child crudely with a razor blade to her neck. Only this child wasn't one of the actual victims. She had hair just like his, and her eyes were a bluish green…they…they were Maeve's…

"Daddy!" the little girl cried. "Daddy! Daddy help me!"

Daddy? Why was she calling him Daddy? It didn't make any sense…he didn't have kids… Yet there was something about her…he knew, the same way he knew that she was down there in the first place, that she was his daughter. He shot the Unsub through the head and caught the little girl in his arms as her captor's arms gave out. It tortured him to listen to her crying, to see the fear in her eyes, which were the spitting image of Maeve's.

"It's ok…it's ok Sweetie…" he said, rocking her gently as she clinged to him with her face buried against his shoulder.

"Daddy…"

"It's alright, you're safe now… It's ok, I'm here…you're ok, Daddy's here, Daddy's got you…"

Spencer woke up the next morning with Maeve in his arms. His eyes shot open as he lifted his head to look around the room. Everything seemed normal, the same light brown walls with white trim… the same dark oak dresser with a mirror framed to match against the wall next to the door. It was bright, even without the light on, bright, and warm, and safe. He wasn't in a dark basement facing down a pedophile… he was home, in his own house, with the love of his life still asleep in his arms. He looked over at the clock on the bedside table…it was already eight-thirty. Thank goodness Hotch had given everyone a day off for once or he'd be late already. But he wasn't late, and for right now he was perfectly content to stay right where he was.

Suddenly Maeve stirred, she snuggled against him and opened her eyes.

"Morning…" he said.

"Good morning Honey…" she replied, smiling back at him.

"So…now are you going to tell me what's going on…? He asked, giving her a pleading look.

"What do you think is going on?" she asked, sitting up on her knees on the bed.

"My guess is it must have something to do with the miniature Halloween costume downstairs…"

"Correct…we might be needing that-"

"For who? We don't know any kids that will fit into it… it's way too small for Henry and Jack…"

"No…not for them…not even this year…we'll need it for next year…" She explained. She was beaming now.

"I'm not following…"

"I wanna show you something…get up…"

He did…

She grabbed his arm and he allowed her to lead him into the bathroom; where the positive pregnancy test was still sitting in the bottom of the sink bowl.

"What…? This…this is you…?" he asked, his tone and expression was pure shock.

"Yeah, that's me, it's us! We're gonna be parents Spencer!" She exclaimed happily, hugging him tightly. There it was, the very flow of emotion she'd anticipated in her head, was dancing across his face… she waited, watching intently to see which reaction won out as dominant until after the longest thirty seconds of her life, his expression settled on joy.

"Wow…just wow…"