A/N: Yup, I'm back. (smirks) I must admit that this story is just about such me under. I just couldn't keep myself from typing.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for the AMAZING reception for this story! (GLOMPS) It's partly thanks to you I'm daring to get a little bit excited to bond with this ficcy. So thank you!

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) I suppose it's time to get going, no? I really, truly hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

Devil's Own

Quite soon after the gunshots Spencer was swept into darkness. When he woke up the first thing he felt was sheer pain, ravishing absolutely all of his body. He groaned and closed his eyes for a second before opening them again. A shiver crossed him at what he discovered.

He wasn't alone. There, right next to the skeleton, sat a woman dressed in all black. He saw quite a bit of blood on her hands that were covered with white protective gloves. She'd pulled on a hood that hid almost all of her head, apart from her face that'd been shielded with a bizarre, black mask. Did the mask have any eyeholes? He knew there had to be although he couldn't see them in the room's little light. Her breathing was perfectly even and soundless while she sat there watching, waiting.

Spencer swallowed thickly, feeling discomfort that had nothing to do with the pain. What the hell was going on? What was she going to do? Where was the man who shot him?

He took a deep breath, bracing himself, then turned his gaze towards his injured feet. He blinked a couple of times with surprise upon discovering that they'd been bandaged. Some blood could be seen on the wrappings. He looked back towards the woman, wishing that his body hadn't been shaking the way it was. "Thank you, for treating my wounds." He lived in no illusions. He knew that he'd been cared for just to make sure that his body wouldn't give out before this sick game was over. But he was in the position where he had to take every opportunity he got.

Saying nothing the woman got up and made her way to the opposite side of the room. His eyes widened gradually while he watched how she moved loose board, pulling out a hammer and two massive needles, along with a wire that had long spikes.

Spencer swallowed thickly, sheer terror striking his previously agonized body numb and paralyzed. "Is… Is this round two?"

She shook her head, then finally spoke. "There's a one more thing you should know of this game", she told him. She sounded like she hadn't spoken in a decade, perhaps because of the mask. By then she kneeled right beside him. He smelled herbs and ginger ale. "This game consists of seven rounds. However, both Doctor and I create our own rounds. This is what I'm about start with."

Spencer's heart hammered beyond all control while she snatched his hand, prying his fist open. He attempted to speak although his throat had gone completely dry. "You… You don't have to do this. You don't have to hurt me." He tried desperately to find her eyes from the mask, determined to reach out to her. "I can help you. If you let me go we can leave this place, and we'll get you all the help you need."

She tilted her head. He could've sworn that the rather chilling sound he heard was her laughter. "What makes you think that I'd want or need any help?" Her hold on his hand tightened, enough so to make it painful. "Now stop talking or the other player suffers, understood? And hold very, very still. Trust me – you wouldn't want me to miss."

Spencer's eyes widened as he watched how she placed a needle on his hand, then raised the hammer and brought it down without a sign of hesitation.

The pain was unbelievable. She struck so hard that the needle went through his skin easily, sinking through tissue and going all the way through, attaching him to the wooden floor. Unable to stop himself Spencer screamed out loud, tears filling his eyes but not managing to spill. The shockwave of agony made him tremble so hard that he barely managed to sit up straight. In the end he gasped, desperately trying to think through the pain and focus.

"Are you still with me?" his tormentor inquired, tilting her head again. She lifted one of her gloved hands, showing him another needle. "Because we're not through yet."

Spencer swallowed convulsively, unable to look away from the needle. "You… don't have to", he managed through the still bubbling pain. "Don't let him control you."

He could actually feel the wave of rage that radiated from her. Her fists formed steel hard balls before she snarled. "I don't take orders from anyone." She took his unharmed hand, so hard that he found himself wincing. She struck the needle against his skin with such force that it almost went through without the hammer. "Least of all from a lost, pathetic creature like you." As soon as those words left her mouth the hammer fell once more.

Spencer cried out but didn't have the breath for an actual scream. There was more bleeding this time around. His head spun a little bit while he watched how red slipped out, staining the needles and the floor underneath his hands. It took all his willpower not to pass out.

His tormentor chuckled. "Well, aren't you a resilient little thing. I'm impressed." A hand brushed his forehead, making his body shudder. "Now that you're nice and fastened it's time to finish the round, don't you think?"

Spencer's breathing grew quicker but he didn't manage to bring himself to speak when she lifted the wire she'd taken before. The spikes seemed even longer up close.

He didn't know when his pants had been taken off and suspected that he was much happier without that information. He tried to keep himself from trembling and failed when she ran her hand up on his leg. For a moment she paused to caress his old gunshot wound scar, then continued upwards. "Did you know that some people use something like this for spiritual reasons? Perhaps you'll reach an enlightenment as well, if pushed far enough." She forced his leg up with a rather violent jerk and inhaled sharply. "Since your hands are occupied I'm doing this for you." Her hands were disturbingly quick and skilled as she wrapped the wire around his upper thigh. "Most people don't dare to go far enough to break the skin. But you're a special case, aren't you?" Then she tightened the wire, making the spikes go right through his skin.

Spencer groaned, black spots dancing in his line of vision for a moment. In an instant a flood of facts overloaded his mind, momentarily distracting him from the pain. Cold sweat rose to his skin.

There was a risk of infection now that skin had been damaged. Under these conditions it was a miracle if he wouldn't get one. If the wire would be tightened further there was also a risk of massive bleeding.

A stunningly gentle hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up towards the masked face. "You've been an excellent student", the woman complimented in a nearly purring voice. "Remember, the chain can be loosened or tightened at all times. It's entirely up to you and the other player." She stroked his hair, making him shiver. "Now rest. You did so well that you've earned it." So saying she left the room, not looking back even once. He could've sworn that he saw her limp.

Spencer attempted to stay awake, he truly did. But the pain, shock and exhaustion became too much for his body. The last thing he heard before getting swept under was a man's voice screaming. Or perhaps it was just a bad dream.

He really hoped that this was all just a nightmare.

The next time Spencer woke up he was alone, apart from the skeleton staring right at him. A tremor crossed him and he looked away, instead focusing on his injured feet and firmly nailed hands. He swallowed, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. He wasn't sure how worried he should've been by the fact that there wasn't that much pain anymore. Was he in a shock?

But oh, he most definitely wasn't free of discomfort. His muscles spasmed and screamed, displeased with being forced to stay in the same, uncomfortable position for too long. Trying to trick his mind elsewhere Spencer glanced towards the room's covered window.

He wondered how long he'd already been in this place. He was all too familiar with the fact that no one would be looking for him in five days. He'd told the team that he'd give his mother a surprise visit before their brief vacation was over and they knew not to disturb him. He was completely, totally alone.

Would he make it through five days?

Trying to shake off that gloomy thought he forced himself to focus on other matters. Whatever distraction he'd manage to get was most definitely welcomed. He frowned, gladly allowing his mind the chance to fly.

There were two captors, a man and a woman. The man had approached him in the dark, not speaking more than a few words, simply taking the shots. Almost like afraid. The woman had nearly exploded when he'd suggested that she was controlled by someone. She was the dominant one of the two. And she was a unpredictable master.

Spencer shifted and winced, pain pulsating in his injured limbs.

They didn't seem to know him, at least. After all he didn't have his wallet along when they took him and they weren't interested in getting to know him, humanizing him. He was glad – there was no telling what they would've done if they'd known that he was a federal agent. But… Why did they choose him? It seemed that they'd been doing this for a long time. What was their motive? What were they trying to accomplish?

His thoughts were cut when sounds erupted from the room next to his. A man was screaming, audibly in a great deal of pain. The sound wrenched him, went under his skin far deeper than any blade could. A tear slipped through without him being able to stop it. There was a series of thuds, followed by even more screaming, and he didn't even want to know what was going on.

There was no question about it anymore. He wasn't alone. Someone else was in this nightmare with him, and if he'd make a mistake the stranger would pay the price.

He wasn't quite over the terror caused by that information when the room's door opened. This time it was the man, staring at him through a mask that looked exactly like the one the woman had been wearing. The arrival's dark clothes disguised almost everything but Spencer did notice that he had notable amount of muscle. One of the man's hands had a confident, relaxed hold on a taser. The other hand held out a glass of water towards him while the man came closer and knelt down. Spencer found himself hesitating although he was incredibly thirsty.

"Drink", the man ordered. His voice was still smooth but Spencer detected a slight slur that had nothing to do with alcohol. "I don't want you to die."

Feeling some sick gratitude Spencer obeyed, leaned forward thirstily and devoured the drink once the glass was brought to his lips. That glass of water was easily the best thing he'd ever tasted. He wondered how long he'd been without anything to drink.

As soon as he was done his tormentor put the glass away in a ominous, not quite steady gesture. "I hope that you're ready for round two, now."

Spencer's eyes widened when the taser was brought to the skin of his neck. "You… You don't have to…"

"Shh… I've found my path to enlightenment. It's time for you to find yours." With that the taser was triggered.

The sound electricity ripped from Spencer's throat was nothing human. He howled like a wounded wild animal, squeezing his eyes tightly shut while the pain rushed everywhere. There was no way he'd be able to take a lot more of this.

"Don't scream, please", the masked man advised him. "Breathe through the pain. Embrace it."

Another jolt of electricity came, followed almost instantly by the third one. By then Spencer couldn't produce a sound. It was a miracle that he was conscious at all, although halfway on his way under.

"Do you see it already?" the man asked him, sounding curious.

Somehow Spencer managed to shake his head slightly although his whole mind screamed that it was a huge mistake. He was too much in pain to lie.

"It takes a while for some people. But don't worry, I'll help you."

With the fourth jolt Spencer felt his heart jump in a far from healthy manner. Felt his body grow exhausted. "Please…", he managed with the last of his strength. His eyes would've wanted to slip closed but he fought back. "Don't…"

"Don't worry", the man whispered, as though not having heard him. "You haven't seen the light yet. But you will."

With the fifth jolt Spencer's heart couldn't take it anymore.

For the second time in his life he died.

When Spencer came back to life the woman was with him. He lay on the floor, with her practically sitting on top of him, staring at his face intently. There was a horrendous smell of sweat, blood and what he suspected was burned flesh in the air.

"Welcome back." Her voice held a touch of irritation. "Did you really think that we'd let you go already?"

Dazed and still out of breath Spencer gasped, then lifted one of his previously nailed hands to see it. He was free once more. There was a bandage around his hand. He stared at the dirty, white piece of fabric in wonder, as though not having seen anything like it before.

Did he just… die? He couldn't quite comprehend it.

Dropping his hand he stared at her, trying to find her eyes and failing. "You… saved me."

She unleashed a somewhat amused sound, not bothering to comment. Instead she pulled out a knife. "I'm going to go easy on you with this round." She looked at him for a moment before continuing. "You should be grateful, you know? I'm doing a favor."

Holding back a snort was one of the hardest things Spencer had done in his entire life but he managed. He was too tired. Instead he swallowed thickly and pulled in a breath, wincing at the pain in his chest. "Thank you."

"Good boy." The knife was brought closer, closer. One of her gloved hands pushed his shirt upwards, revealing his stomach. "Don't… do… anything… stupid. Do you hear me? Because Doctor is right there with our other player. If you try anything, if you do as much as move or speak a word, there'll be a hell to pay. Is that clear?"

Spencer nodded, unable to do anything else although his whole body and mind screamed that he should fight as hard as he possibly could, for the sake of his life and freedom. It was absurd, really. He was a trained agent and all he could do was lay there, waiting for the unknown.

The blade pierced his skin before he could do a thing to prepare himself for it. White, hot pain traveled through him, all the way to the tips of his toes. His instincts kicked in and he couldn't keep his body from struggling.

In an instant the knife was placed to his throat. The woman leaned closer. "Do you want someone to die?"

Spencer shook his head and opened his mouth, only to have the knife move again. A jolt of pain after another came while she worked on his abdomen, her hands becoming slick and red with his blood. His unhealthily pale skin was stained by blood and his head was beginning to spin violently. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, all his injuries from the past sessions burning and pulsating. Flashes of familiar, comforting faces swam through his blurry mind. And he realized that he couldn't hold it back anymore. Tears ran down his cheeks.

"Morgan!"

The woman stopped working on his stomach. Instead the knife was brought to his forehead. "Scream all you want. Hell, curse me if you like. But don't ever call out to anyone but Him. That… was strike one, right there." Unable to control himself he unleashed a tiny whimper when she carved an X to his forehead with the knife. "Get three of those and the other player dies. Is that what you want?"

A couple of tears of pain, rage and frustration spilled to his cheeks along with blood from his newest wound. "I… I'm sorry", he managed.

She nodded. "You should be. We chose you because you are lost, one of the damned ones. You're making guiding you to the right direction much harder than it needs to be." He shivered when she reached out her hand, only to discover that she'd just taken a mirror. "I made this mark so that you won't forget what's your fate if you don't find the light before it's too late."

She placed the mirror so that he could see a reflection of his abdomen. What he faced made his insides turn upside down. Through all the blood he could just see what she'd engraved with large, clumsy letters. Words that'd never fade from his skin.

Devil's Own

She took a large piece of white fabric, wiping away the blood almost gently. "Do you understand? We're trying to save you. We're trying to push you towards the right path, just like we were once guided." Apparently satisfied with her work she pushed herself up and began to make her way away. She switched off the room's light. "Now rest. It seems that we've only just began the work." With those words she was already gone.

The door banged closed, leaving Spencer completely alone and in agony into utter darkness.

TBC, right?

A/N: The game's getting nasty. (winces)

PLEASE, leave a note! Let me hear your thoughts and feelings. I'm currently in the process of falling for this story, so it'd mean the world to me to hear from ya. (gives one's most adorable eyes) Pweeease…?

IN THE NEXT ONE (in case you're eager for more): Reid faces the next three rounds of the sick game his very humanity is about to become tested.

A QUICK QUESTION! The solid idea of this story is forming in my head. Would you mind if I prolonged the original idea a bit, so that this'd be max eight chapters long?

PLUS, TO ALL THOSE WONDERING... I'm sorry to disappoint some of you, but there WON'T BE any SLASH in this story. At least in any romantic sense whatsoever. (sighs) This is just one of those stories where it'd feel out of place. But don't worry, there'll be other tales... (winks)

Until next time, everyone! Peace out!

Steph: Who am I to deny the wish of a begging person? (chuckles) I really hope that the next one pleases you.

It looks like poor Spencer's in for quite a nightmare. (winces)

Monumental thank yous for the review!