Okay, So I am making this a three-shot. It was just getting too long. But I hope you like this part. Epic music really helps while I am writing. I had The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring soundtrack on repeat while writing this. "The Theme for Aragorn and Arwen" was especially helpful when writing another flashback sequence between Spencer and Claire. Also last time I forgot to put a disclaimer on here so here is one right now:

Disclaimer: I do not own CM or any of the characters. They are just my playthings.

"And once, or twice, to throw the dice

Is a gentlemanly game,

But he does not win who plays with Sin

In the secret House of Shame."

~ Oscar Wilde, "The Ballad of Reading Gaol"

Claire left her phone's ringer on high so no matter what she was doing she would hear it. She had skipped on the opportunity to have a land line because why pay for the service every month if she wasn't going to use it? She had no idea when Spencer was going to call he just simply said that night. He could call her an hour from now or in the wee hours of the morning. She didn't him waking her up especially if it was a particularly hard case that didn't leave him much time to talk until he was in his hotel room for the night. She was secretly hoping that when he would call her they would have caught the sick bastard they were looking for and then come home.

She went through her nightly routine quicker than usual. She was in and out of the shower in 10 minutes cutting her usual shower time by 30 minutes. She even neglected watching her favorite crime show that Spencer said was totally inaccurate. She curled up on her couch with a book and checked her phone for the nth time that night. Nothing. And it was only 8:30 pm. Claire sighed and slumped further into the couch. "What would Spencer do?" she thought.

Sometimes when she had been to a gallery opening, she wouldn't get home until the wee hours of the morning. Often, she would find Spencer lying on the on her couch reading one of the many tomes he kept in his briefcase. He was always reading something to do with psychology, technology or European philosophy that most of the time was not in English. She would kick off her heels by the door and cuddle up next to him listening as he read aloud to her. Eventually her head would fall into his lap and she would fall asleep as his fingers stroked her hair. She kept telling him that he needed to record an audio-book even if it was just for her.

She sat up and pulled one of the many books Reid left at her house off the coffee table. She flipped to the title page, Remembrances of Things Past by Marcel Proust. She didn't remember this one. Then again she had probably already gone to sleep if he read it to her before. She snuggled down into the couch and flipped to a random page and began to read.

"The smell of the Madeline unleashing the flood of memory. For a long time, I used to go to bed early. Sometimes, when I put out my candle, my eyes would close so quickly that I had not even time to say to myself, "I am falling asleep…."

"IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES I WANT YOU TO KNOW RIGHT NOW THAT I, I'M GONNA LOVE YOU UNITL THE DAY I DIE! AND IF TOMORROW FALLS ASLEEP, CAN YOU HOLD ME FIRST? I'M GONNA LOVE YOU LIKE IT'S THE LAST NIGHT ON EARTH!"

Claire jolted awake and the book slid to the floor as she blearily reached for her phone. She fumbled with the answer button. "Spence?" she asked. All she heard was rustling in the background. "Spencer?" she called louder. Then a voice.

"I could have stopped them by myself!"

"Spencer what's going on?" Claire pleaded.

"I tried to warn everyone!" the voice said.

"Just relax, Mr. Hankel." Spencer voice panted.

Claire sighed in relief, "Spencer, I am so glad you called. I—"

"SHOOT HIM!" a different voice said. Claire froze.

"I don't want to!" the first voice pleaded.

"I said shoot him, you weakling, he is a Satan!" the second voice hissed.

"Spencer?" Claire squeaked. She was shaking.

"He didn't do anything!" the first voice quivered.

"I won't tell you another time boy. SHOOT HIM!" the second voice roared. There was more rustling on the other end. A thud and a gasp of pain with quick succession. Then the rustling stopped. A moment of silence and then voices.

"Oh, now what do we do? What do we do?" It was the first voice. Claire was frozen as tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She listened as there was more rustling and the sound of something being dragged. Something cracked and then the line went dead.

"Spencer! Spencer?" she cried she listened to the dial tone.

She had to call the team.

She dialed JJ's number.

Straight to voice mail.

"Crap," Claire cursed.

She dialed Hotch's number.

No answer.

"Damnit!"

Emily's and Morgan's were both no answers.

"Fuck!"

She called Gideon.

It was ringing. "Please, please, please pick up." She said angrily, "If you don't pick up, I swear. I will call Chief Strauss if have to. I—"

"Gideon," a voice answered.

"Oh, thank God!" she cried. "Jason, it's Claire!"

"Claire, I am kinda in the middle of something and I am about to lose cell phone service, can I call you later?" The last of whatever control Claire had a hold of slipped away as she exploded.

"No! god fucking damnit, listen to me! I have been trying to get a hold of one of you for the past ten minutes! Where is Spencer!"

"Calm down, Claire. He is at a possible suspect's house with JJ. He—"

"Jason," she pleaded, "he just called me. I think something horrible has happened to him. I think he might be…" she trailed off as a wave of sobbing overcame her.

"Wait, wait, calm down, what?"

"He called me. He said he would call me later tonight so I was waiting for him to call. I guess something pressed a button on his speed dial and it called me. I heard these two voices arguing on whether or not to shoot him and then there was a struggle and then the line went dead." She said between hiccups.

"You said you heard two voices?" Gideon asked.

"Yes, one sounded scared and the other sounded authoritative." she stood up and began to pace.

"What else?" pressed Gideon.

"Spencer sounded out of breath. There was rustling like leaves or something. Jason, what do you think is happening?"

"I don't know, Claire. Did you hear anything about JJ?"

"No," she stopped. "You don't think they got her too?" she breathed.

"I don't know…"

They were silent for a moment. Claire heard sirens in the background. "Drive fast, Jason. Find him. Please." Claire whispered.

"We will," he consoled her. "I'll call when we have more news." The phone clicked off. Claire listened to the dial tone for a moment before clicking it off. She sank to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. This couldn't be happening. Not to her. Not to Spencer. She looked at Spencer's book that fallen on the floor.

~FLASHBACK~

"I cannot exist without you - I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again - my Life seems to stop there - I see no further. You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I were dissolving... I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion - I have shudder'd at it - I shudder no more - I could be martyr'd for my Religion - Love is my religion - I could die for that - I could die for you. My creed is Love and you are its only tenet - You have ravish'd me away by a Power I cannot resist." Claire read out loud from her worn collection of John Keats's writings as Spencer pulled on his slacks. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and they had decided to take an easy day until their stomachs voiced their hunger. "How is it that a man write something like this?" she wondered aloud.

"He sounds a little melodramatic," commented Spencer.

"But he was dying!" gasped Claire, "I think he has the right to be melodramatic."

"I know, but if you are dying why write how you feel when you can show it to whomever you love instead?"

"So you always have a piece of them," Claire replied simply.

"Memories last a lifetime," Spencer whispered as he climbed into bed beside her.

"I believe that is the first non-statistical, non-practical thing I have ever heard you say, Dr. Reid." Claire teased and scooted away from him.

Reid chuckled and pulled her into his arms. He brushed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead. "I cannot exist without you," he whispered. He pressed his lips against her temple. "I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again." He kissed her cheek. "My life seems to stop there- I see no further." He kissed her nose. "You have absorbed me." He kissed her fingers. "I have a sensation at the present moment as though I were dissolving." He brushed his lips on the back of her hand. "I have been astonished that men could die Martyrs for religion."He peppered kisses along her earlobe. "I have shuddered at it- I shuddered no more."He kissed down her jaw line. "I could be martyred for my Religion." He kissed her neck. "Love is my religion-I could die for that." He ran his lips along her collarbone. "I could die for you." He gently unbuttoned her oxford shirt that really was his and kissed her chest where her heart was. "My creed is Love and you are its only tenet." He gently kissed her lips. "You have ravish'd me away by a Power I cannot resist."

Claire smiled and pushed a stray hair out of his face. "Have I told you how much I love your eidetic memory?" She asked kissing him again.

"When you are wearing my shirt?" asked Spencer. "All the time my dear, all the time." He kissed her again and pulled her under him and their would-be errand was soon forgotten.

~END FLASHBACK~

Claire shook her head. If she didn't do something, she was going to explode. She stood up and looked out the window. The sky was growing lighter with the approaching dawn. She had to get down there. She couldn't stay here and do nothing. As she was walking to her computer to book a plane ticket to Atlanta her phone rang. Her stomach clinched.

"Hello," she answered shakily.

"Hey, Claire, it's JJ."

"Have you found him?"

"No we haven't but there is no sign that he is…"

Claire swallowed. "That's good."

"I am really sorry, Claire." JJ said.

Tears threatened to spill over again. Claire looked directly at her desk lamp sometimes looking directly at something would help her regain her focus. "I'm fine, Jayje." Her voice cracked.

"I told him we shouldn't spilt up," JJ started.

"JJ, it's okay," Claire cut her off as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "So where should I meet you guys?"

"What?" JJ asked.

"You didn't think I was just going to sit here, did you? Hell no."

"Claire, there isn't much you can do around here."

"I don't give a shit. I love Spencer. I want to be there when you find him."

"Claire-"

"Put Hotch on the phone, JJ"

JJ sighed, "All right."

"Hotch here," Hotch answered.

"I am coming down there, Aaron."

"Claire, I understand how you feel. But there is really nothing you can do."

"I don't care. I want to be down there when you find him. And you will find him."

"You don't have to prove you love him by being down here and experiencing this. I know that Hayley would like to be there and see me at times like this but she can't."

"Hayley has to take care of Jack! And I am nothing like Hayley! I don't have to prove myself. Spencer knows I love him! All I care about is his safety and I can't stay up here living my regular life while he isn't."

Hotch was silent for a moment. "All the same," he said, "I strongly suggest you stay in Quantico. You would just be in the way down here." And with that he hung up the phone.

Claire threw her phone down in frustration and then clicked the "book flight" button on her computer. "To hell with that!"

Emily looked at Hotch as a scowl formed on his face. "That was Claire, huh?"

Hotch nodded.

"I take it you told her to stay in D.C.?" Emily said sorting out Hankel's and his father's journals into separate piles.

"Yes, and she wasn't happy with it." Hotch sighed.

"Of course she isn't happy with it," Gideon said flipping through a journal. "She loves him."

"She is going to come down here anyway" Garcia called from Hankel's computer room.

JJ nodded. "She is right, Hotch. Claire does what she wants when she wants especially."

"Should I just go and get her?" Morgan asked. Hotch sighed and looked to Gideon.

"Hurry back," Gideon said.

Claire blinked in Atlanta's late afternoon sunlight. Even with winter approaching, the sunlight still blazed down. She was suddenly reminded how much she hated to south and its almost tropical climate. She picked up a rental car and drove to Atlanta's FBI field office. So what if the team was surprised. She didn't care.

She put on her sunglasses and did her best to try and look official as she stepped into the surprisingly small building.

"Can I help you?" the woman at the front desk asked

"Yes, I am looking for the BAU team lead by SSA Hotchner. I was sent down here to help him with hostage negotiations." Claire answered using all of the FBI jargon she knew. The lady looked at her in disbelief. "I could call him for you, if you wanted." Claire said pulling out her cell phone.

"You know impersonating an officer is a federal offense." A voice said behind her. Claire stiffened. "Of course, you could probably get off with a warning though, Red."

"Morgan," Claire said turning to face him.

"Hey, baby girl."

Claire ran and hugged him. She felt Morgan making a gesture with his hand as if to say "disregard what she said she is just a hysterical young woman who is crazy in love".

"Have they—"

Morgan put his fingers to her lips. "Come with me. I'll take you to the team." He led her out to one the federal SUV which Claire had dubbed the "I'm a Badass, Don't Fuck with Me" car.

Claire climbed into the passenger side then turned to face Morgan. "Well?"

"Seat-belt," Morgan said pointing to the safety restraint behind her.

"Screw the seat-belt, Morgan. We aren't even moving. Now tell me have you found him yet?"

Morgan sighed and looked at the steering wheel. "No."

Claire tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat. "Is he still…"

"We never assume otherwise unless we have reason too. And so far we don't have such a reason."

Claire nodded and turned to put her seat-belt on as Morgan started the car. "What about my rental?" she asked as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway.

"I send someone from the field office to bring it back." Morgan said.

Claire nodded then faced the window. After ten minutes of silence she softly asked, "Morgan, what exactly did this person do to warrant the BAU team to come down here?"

"Claire, I don't see why you have to know." Morgan said.

"Because I want to know what Spencer is up against," Claire said.

"That's not a good reason," replied Morgan.

"I can just get Gideon or JJ to tell me then." Claire said

"You may not like what you here," Morgan said.

"No Morgan," Claire turned to face him again, "I don't like my coffee black. I don't like rap music. I don't like D.C. traffic. I don't like the fact that my boyfriend is out of town almost every week risking his neck. I hate when someone I love is in trouble. And I hate it when I don't know the whole story because if I don't it means I am unfit to help them. See the difference? It isn't about me liking it or disliking it. It is about making sure the person I love makes it out with as few emotional and physical scars as possible."

Morgan sighed, "I know but I am not going to tell you alone."

Claire was silent. He didn't say an outright "no" just that he wouldn't tell her until the rest of the team was around. She sighed and looked at the scenery passing by. "Where are we going?" She asked.

"Hotch said that if we are going to find where Hankel has taken Reid, we will find the answer at his house. So we made that our temporary field office," Morgan said.

"So the unsub's name is Hankel?" Claire asked.

"Yes, Tobias Hankel."

"And we are going to his house?"

"Yes, Red," Morgan said. Claire shuddered inwardly. Staying at a killer's house was just going to be way too creepy. "Get some rest we still have an hour before we get there; you aren't going to sleep well in that house anyway."

Claire leaned the seat back and feigned sleep until they arrived at Hankel's house.

Hotch was outside the house waiting for them. "Nothing changed?" asked Morgan locking the car. Hotch shook his head and looked at Claire.

Claire shifted uncomfortably. "Hey, Aaron," she said meekly. Hotch nodded to her and looked to Morgan again. "Morgan, can you go and help Emily look through Tobias's room?" he asked.

Morgan nodded and looked at Claire. "I will be inside, Red."

Claire wanted to plead with him not to leave her alone with Hotch but she knew that wouldn't help matters.

"And send Gideon out here, will you?" asked Hotch as Morgan made his way up the porch steps.

"Sure," said Morgan as he disappeared into the house.

Hotch turned back to her. Claire stiffened like she did when she was a kid in preparing for a severe scolding.

"Plane ride, okay?" he asked her.

"Excuse me?" Claire asked.

"Was your plane ride, okay?" Hotch repeated. "No delays or anything?"

Claire was taken aback. "Yeah, fine. It was fine," she stammered. She had seen Hotch mad before and had been told by Spencer that if someone defied what he said he would go section eight. She was surprised that the tone seemed so calm almost concerned instead of the steel edge it usually had when he was pissed. She looked behind Hotch to notice Gideon coming down the steps.

"Ah, you are here." Gideon said acknowledging her.

"Hello, Jason," she said. He smiled at her.

"C'mon, let's sit on the porch," he said.

"You aren't going to try and make me go back to Quantico, are you?" Claire said apprehensively.

Hotch shook his head. "No, Claire. We understand that you don't work for the BAU and that we have no authority telling you what to do. But we know that you probably know Reid better than any of us even though we've worked with him for several years," he said.

"Think of yourself as a consultant," Gideon said putting his arm around her and leading her up the steps.

Claire nodded, "Okay."

"You must have a lot of questions," Gideon said sitting in a rusted lawn chair.

"Morgan wouldn't tell me much," Claire said annoyed. She pulled a stool with a ripped seat next to Gideon.

"He knew that we would be the best one to explain it to you," Hotch said leaning against the porch railing.

"Oh, okay," said Claire. "So we are at Tobias Hankel's house?"

"Yes," Hotch said.

"And Tobias Hankel is the unsub?" she asked.

"Yes," Gideon answered.

"But if he was the unsub, why did you let JJ and Spencer come out here alone?" she implored.

"We didn't know it at the time I sent them here," said Hotch. "We thought he was a witness. Turns out, he had used the supposed incident he had reported to gauge police response time."

"Why would he need to have gauged the response time?" Claire asked. Hotch sighed and looked at Gideon. "If I am going to be a consultant or whatever I need to know what Hankel has done," she huffed bitterly.

Gideon sighed and fiddled with his reading glasses. "Tobias Hankel is perverting God to justify all of his killings. So far he has killed four people. He makes 911 calls before each killing and leaves behind a bible passage. We now know that he had commandeered people's webcams when they called for tech support and watched them 24 hours a day waiting for them to commit what he would call a sin once they had done this, he had his justification." Claire felt the hair rise on her arms but didn't show how much Gideon's descriptions bothered her. "Then he posts videos of the murders online as you discovered."

"Never again will I open a viral video." Claire said shaking her head. "But you are only talking about, Hankel. What about that other voice I heard on the phone?"

"We are under the impression that Hankel may have dissociative identity disorder," Hotch said.

"Multiple personalities?" Claire asked in disbelief.

Hotch nodded. "We think he may have two, possibly three."

"So which "person" is doing the killing?" asked Claire.

"That we don't know yet" Gideon answered which is why we have Prentiss and Morgan going over Hankel's and his father's journals and then Garcia is trying to figure out his computer system."

"So he kills people, but why did he take Spencer? Spencer hates computers the only reason he has one is so he can video chat with me. But he reads so many technical books he could always fix his computer himself. So why him?" Claire asked. She felt her throat closing up as it always did before she was about to cry.

"We don't know," Gideon said softly. "But we hope to find out."

"WHERE IS SHE?" cried a voice from inside the house. "Morgan, why did you tell me she was here the moment you got here?"

Claire smiled a little. "She is out here, Garcia," called Hotch. The front door was flung open and Garcia's plump figure was shadowed by the light behind it.

"Oh my dear," Garcia said crossing the porch and pulling her friend into a hug.

"Hey, Pen, what's the sitch?" Claire said using Penelope's favorite cartoon character's catch-phrase. Garcia gave a slight chuckle.

"We have a problem, KP," she countered rubbing her friend's back. "Are you okay?"

"As I will ever be," Claire said with a slight sniffle

"We are going get wonder-boy home, girl. I promise." Garcia whispered with a tight squeeze then drew back.

"Nothing new," she said to Hotch. He nodded.

"C'mon girl," Garcia said holding out her hand to Claire. "Let's get you a place set up with me. I made Morgan go buy some air mattress just in case anyone needs to sleep because I doubt any of us want to sleep in beds ridden with bed-bugs."

Claire smiled. Same old Penelope.

"I'm not weak," Spencer murmured groggily. "I'm not weak." His mind was cloudy and the room spun as he opened his eyes. What had Tobias given him? It must have been some kind of depressant. He looked around the room and flinched back when he saw Tobias's face close to his with the drugs still in his system Tobias's face looked more like three faces.

"I don't give a damn whether you are weak or strong," Tobias's faces said. It wasn't Tobias's voice. It was his father's. "Yell all you want, boy. Ain't no one can hear you where you are." Tobias's multiple faces lifted toward the ceiling and yelled at the top of their lungs. "See?" they said "No one can hear you."

"I'm not weak," Spencer said still within the remnants of his dream.

"Well let's just see how weak you are?" Tobias's father said. He backhanded Spencer across the face. "Just how weak are you?" He bellowed hitting Spencer again.

"Not weak," Spencer murmured. This enraged his captor. Tobias punched him in the stomach then in the face with so much force that Spencer's lip split open.

"Yell out boy! Yell out for the Devil to help you! You are a devil!" Tobias yelled as he grabbed Spencer by the hair. "Scream boy!" he yelled in Spencer's face.

Spencer said nothing. A small voice in the back of his mind said, "No weakness, don't give in. That's what he wants." He pictured Claire smiling and laughing as they had their coffee dates. Claire dancing with Morgan and Garcia at the Super Bowl Party. Claire sitting in his lap stealing sips of his beer and his kisses as they watched JJ beat a few cocky frat boys at darts. The nights they had spent together. How she looked whenever he read her to sleep. "I'm not weak," he said.

Tobias yelled in rage then hit Spencer again with more force than before. Spencer felt his head rock back then his world went dark.

Claire sat on the air mattress twirling her phone in her hands. She didn't have service and the team had found that Spencer's phone was trashed but she was still hoping he would call…somehow. She sighed and picked up her sketchbook, her diary of sorts. She began to sketch Spencer's profile. The slight bump in his nose, his small chin, his slight widow's peak, everything that made him familiar to her. She had proceeded to sketch his elegant hands when she heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," she said still looking at the paper she wanted to finish the drawing. She felt that if she didn't keep drawing him, she would forget what he looked like.

"Hey," called a soft voice from the doorway. Claire looked up. It was JJ carrying two cups of tea in her hands.

"Hey Jayje," Claire said. "Hang on let me finish this." JJ nodded and watched silently as Claire sketched the last of Spencer's nails and lines on his fingers.

"That's really good," JJ said.

"Thanks," Claire responded. She closed her sketchbook and placed it under the pillow.

"Here," JJ said offering her a mug. Claire accepted it wrapping her fingers around its warmth. She looked at JJ fully for the first time. Her shirt was torn and bloodied and there was a bandage on her arm. Her hair was messy and dirty. She looked like she had gotten into a scrap with someone.

"What happened?" she asked gesturing to the bandage. "You usually aren't one for violence."

"Oh," JJ said as if she was just noticing the bandage on her arm for the first time. "I got this when Reid and I came over here to talk with Hankel."

"He attacked you?" Claire asked incredulously.

"No, he ran but his dogs did."

"Dogs?"

JJ sighed, "Reid and I followed Hankel out to the barn. We thought we could wait him out. Spencer told me he would go around back and I would cover the front while we waited for the others. We wanted to wait him out. A loud noise came from inside the barn. So I went in to investigate thinking Reid had made his way inside." JJ's eyes looked very far away as she told the next part of her story. "It was dark. I couldn't see anything. Then I felt myself step in something. It was blood. They had completely torn her apart. Nothing left…" She trailed off.

"So it wasn't Spencer you heard, it was the dogs." Claire said trying to bring her friend back. JJ blinked and shook her head.

"Yes, they jumped me and I had to shoot them. Then I hid." JJ said.

"You hid?" asked Claire. "You didn't hear anything outside the barn at all?"

"I suppose I did at the time but I was too scared and my body was working overtime from all the adrenaline. I froze." JJ tried to explain.

"So not only did you split up but you let fear get the best of you?" Claire said standing up.

"I tried to tell him we shouldn't have split up," JJ defended.

"Well, you should have tried harder." Claire said angrily. "If you had stayed together, he would be here right now. He looks up to you; you should have set the right example." Claire felt in her heart that those last words were horrible to say but she didn't care at the moment. JJ was a fantastic role model but she should have known better. Claire stalked out of the room as JJ hung her head. She made her way out to the front of the house and sat on the porch steps.

Her anger towards JJ wasn't going to bring Spencer back to her any faster, she knew that. But the fact that it had been the team's oversight that had put Spencer in this position angered her. They are the FBI for God's sake! Why did they make such a careless mistake?

"Perhaps, we have grown too cocky," said a voice behind her. Claire ducked her head trying to head the blush of shame that had found its way across her cheeks.

"I wasn't aware I was talking out loud." She murmured. A strong arm made its way around her shoulder and she was overcome by the smell of Old Spice. It was Morgan.

"We all do it sometimes, Red," Morgan soothed.

Claire snorted, "Those of us who are not intellectually gifted do."

Morgan chuckled.

"I didn't really mean what I said, you know," Claire said.

"I know. You're frustrated, angry, we all are," Morgan said. "We all feel guilty in some way."

"I shouldn't have said those things to JJ," Claire said.

"She knows you didn't mean them," Morgan said. She is probably the most upset over it compared to the rest of the team. It was a unique situation though and there sometimes isn't a handbook guide you or protocol to follow. They did what they thought was best at the time."

"Morgan, you are slowly making me feel worse about what I said." Claire said putting her head in her hands.

"What I am trying to say is you and JJ can't keep playing the "what if?" game. You have to move forward from where you are."

Claire nodded, "I believe that is the deepest thing I have ever heard you say, Derek Morgan."

Morgan smiled and helped her to your feet. "Go back inside. Penelope is looking for you. She wants you to keep her company. You should try to get some rest too."

"I'm okay, I slept in the car." Claire brushed off.

"No you didn't," Morgan said. "You aren't a good fake sleeper. Your breathing was never regular." Claire stuck his tongue out at him and headed toward the door.

"I should apologize to JJ," she sighed. Morgan nodded in agreement. "Are you coming?" she asked.

"Nah, I'm going have a look around the outside of the house and see if we missed anything." Morgan said descending the steps.

"Okay, night," Claire said.

"Goodnight, baby-girl," Morgan said.

Claire watched as Morgan walked around the side of the house then walked inside to apologize to her friend.

Spencer stroked her hair. She buried her face into the pillow. "Five more minutes," she mumbled. He kissed her shoulder.

"You have a gallery opening this morning;" he said softly, "remember?"

Claire nodded. "Mhmm," he hummed. Her eyes were still closed. "What time is it?"

Spencer didn't answer her.

"Spencer," she moaned.

She opened her eyes. A dark figure had Spencer on his knees and a knife to his throat. She screamed. A hand clamped around her mouth to silencer her. She whirled around. It was an angel. An angel with wings whose feathers were as black as night and slick like oil. Its eyes were black, soulless. A disembodied voice crept into her mind. It came from the angel. "Live or die. We don't care." The angel looked towards Spencer. "As long as it's God's will." The angel nodded to the dark figure. The figure quickly sliced Spencer's throat. Blood spilled onto the floor as Spencer's body crumpled into a heap. Claire tried to scream again but was silent as the angel stalked toward her. She tried backing away. He crouched then sprang for her.

Claire woke up with a start. Her heart hammering in her chest. The air mattress groaned as her sudden weight shift. Garcia looked at her from her seat in front of Hankel's many computers.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," she soothed. "You okay?"

Claire shook her head trying to cast out the horrible images of her nightmare.

"I'm fine," she croaked. She looked down at herself. She was still wearing her clothes from last night.

"I came in and you were passed out cold," Garcia said as if reading her mind. "I tucked you in." Claire smiled at her friend but her dream still troubled her.

"What time is it?" she asked gathering her hair into a ponytail.

"About six thirty in the morning," Garcia sighed. She took off her glasses to rub her eyes. Claire noticed the dark circles forming under her friend's eyes. They were identical to her own. "You could go back to sleep if you want," Garcia offered putting her glasses back on.

Claire shook her head. She couldn't go back to sleep after that nightmare. "No, I'm okay. I am going to see if I can find some coffee."

"They team already has some made," Garcia said gesturing to her own cup.

"Good," Claire said throwing off the cartoon princess covered fleece blanket off of her. Obliviously, Garcia had given Morgan specific instructions on what to buy. She pulled on her shoes and made her way to the kitchen.

She grabbed one of the many Styrofoam cups stacked by the coffee maker. Looks like the team didn't trust any of the dishes in this house. She could understand why. The house was cluttered with stuff: random computer parts, books, many different versions of the Bible, even a few rosaries. Each pile with another pile of dust on top of it. After she made her coffee she found her way to the front porch steps and watched as the sun rose over the fields of corn that lined the highway. She couldn't shake her nightmare. The angel bothered her the most. Its gaze with its black eyes was piercing and unnerving. She shuddered and tightened her grip around her cup.

"Garcia said I might find you here," Hotch said behind her.

"Penny knows me too well," Claire said. "The artist in me loves to see what beauty the sunrise can bring. When I get up early, that is."

Hotch walked over and stood beside her. "It is beautiful," he said. "Why are you up? Garcia said you were sleeping so deeply that not even the Prentiss's and Morgan's arguing over profiling theories didn't wake you."

Claire looked down at the steam her cup of coffee was creating in the chilly morning air. "I had a nightmare," she said.

She felt Hotch slowly sit down beside her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Spencer died," she whispered. A tear trickled down her cheek. "I was with him. It was in my house. He killed him right in front of me." She didn't mention the angel. She didn't want Hotch thinking she was crazy. "I know it wasn't real and it is just the stress getting to me. But what happened in that nightmare just paralyzed me." She wiped her eyes. "I'm afraid, Aaron." Hotch nodded.

"You're a strong woman, Claire. Reid's strong too. He will get through this. He's brilliant. And he has you. He will hang on for you. You are all he talks about when he is doing paper-work in the bull-pen and on the plane going to cases. Once Morgan threatened to tape his mouth shut if he didn't stop talking about you. He loves you," Hotch said. Claire sniffed and nodded. "Come on," Hotch said standing up. "JJ and Prentiss are going to talk to someone Hankel may have known a few years back this morning and we need all extra eyes we can get to help us go through all of these journals." Claire looked at him warily. Don't worry they aren't graphic in any way." He assured. He held his hand out to help her up. She grudgingly accepted and followed Hotch back into the house. He gave her a few small volumes of Hankel's journals to start with. "Look for anything that may suggest where Hankel might have gone." Claire nodded then sat down and began to read.

The team and the county's lead detective had been going through journals for hours and nothing of any significance about Hankel's whereabouts had surfaced. Claire was growing frustrated but she didn't say anything. She let the others argue over how to profile Hankel and Hankel's deceased father, whose body Morgan had found in the cellar last night. Nothing special was in the journals that Hotch had given her. All Hankel seemed to care about was caring for his father and how much he admired God for giving them everything they needed. His journals entries were predictable, almost child-like. Claire read on though hoping something would reveal itself in Hankel's chicken scratch.

"My guess he is a mediator between the two." She heard Gideon say. They must have been discussing the possible personalities Hankel had adopted other than his own. "Angel's have no human emotion." Claire jerked her head up to look at Gideon. What did he say? "Live or die, they don't care, as long as it is God's will." Claire stiffened that was what the angel in her dream had said last night. Chill bumps made their way across her arms. She noticed Morgan staring at her. He noticed her reaction.

"I'll get Garcia on it," he told Hotch never breaking his stare with her.

"I'll go with you," Claire said quickly standing up. She followed him into the other room.

"You okay, Red?" Morgan asked.

Claire nodded, "I'm fine. I just needed to get away from the talking for a while."

Morgan nodded and went over to Garcia. Claire sat down on the air mattress and opened Hankel's journal again. She was only skimming which most likely wasn't proper protocol for analyzing someone's personal life but she was unnerved by what Gideon had said. So if Hankel's personality was that of an angel was it just one person she had seen in her dream and not two? She strained to hear to the conversations in the other room. Two new voices were added. It sounded like JJ and Emily were back. Claire picked up the words "no idea", "drug problem" and "Dilaudid". Claire knew Dilaudid was an extremely potent narcotic. Her brother had been on it for a little while after he had broken his leg playing football in high school. "No wonder Hankel was so messed up," she murmured.

"Oh my God!" She heard Garcia gasp.

Claire looked up at her friend, "What? He is," she started then she noticed Spencer on the computer screens. "Oh my God!" she echoed she started toward the screens but was stopped by Morgan. He grabbed her arms

"Claire, go get the others and stay in the other room," he said.

"What?" Claire asked in disbelief. She shook her head. "No, no I won't do that. I—"

Morgan cut her off, "I wouldn't be asking you this if it wasn't to protect you,"

"I don't need protecting, Morgan, I can handle things!"His grip on her loosened and she took her chance and ran to the seat by Garcia. "What? How?" she asked her. The others hurriedly filed into the room apparently Morgan had called them in. Claire stared the video feed of Spencer on the computer screen closest to her. She touched it, rubbing her thumb over the image Spencer's face. He had been beaten. Claire could see the blood caked on the side of his forehead. But he was alive. Thank God, he was still alive.

"I am going to put this guy's head on a stick." She heard Morgan whisper. "As long as I can help, Morgan," she thought.

Hankel and Spencer were talking. Spencer's voice was hoarse and tired. Claire watched as Hankel grabbed him by the shirt and yell. She tore her hand from the screen and put it over her mouth.

"That must be Hankel's father," Hotch commented. "Hankel doesn't like confrontation."

Hankel's father asked Spencer to choose someone to die as threw him back into his chair.

"All right," Spencer gasped. "I'll choose who lives."

Claire listened as Hankel recited the name and address of the person Spencer had chosen. A woman named Marilyn David. Garcia pulled her name and phone number which Gideon dialed promptly. Claire continued to watch the screen. Hankel had disappeared out of the frame and Spencer was looking at where he had gone. He said nothing more. "Come on, Spencer," she pleaded internally. "Look at the camera. Look at me!"

She watched Spencer stiffen and ask, "Raphael?"

There was a moment of silence and then the video feed cut off. The screens went dark.

Claire inhaled sharply and hid her face in her hands. The team was silent. She heard someone stalk out of the room and bang on the door on their way out. She knew it was Morgan only he had outbursts of physical anger like that.

"So now what?" the lead detective asked. "Wait for a 911 call and hope we get there in time?" No one answered him. Claire heard them slowly filing out of the room over Garcia's ferocious typing. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder; she flinched away from it.

"Claire?" JJ asked.

"Not now, JJ," Claire said angrily. She raced out of the room and up the stairs.

Do you see what I mean about it getting too long? lol.

References: Remembrances of Things Past by Marcel Proust, John Keats (I cannot remember if it was from a poem or a letter), (when Claire is talking to Morgan in the car her reply to Morgan telling her that she might not like what she hears) "I don't like flat soda. I don't like crappy boy band pop. I don't like being stuck in traffic. I don't like math homework. I hate Jace. See the difference?" ~ Simon from Cassie Clare's City fo Bones, Claire's ringtone "Last Night on Earth" by Delta Goodrem, Garcia and Claire's inside joke is based on the cartoon Kim Possible.

I should finish the last part by Thanksgiving break. Maybe even before. ::crosses fingers::

Tell me what you think!

Always,

LLLimwen