A/N: (I hope that this doesn't take place during the blackout, but this was my ONLY chance to update this one, so…) (winces)

Yup, I'm back. (grins) 'Couldn't leave you hanging for longer than this. BUT, first of all…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all those amazing reviews! (glomps) They all mean A LOT to me. I promise to do my best not to let ya down.

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) This'll be a long chappy, so I hope you're all ready. Enjoy?

Game Over

At the age of fifty-two there were days when detective Jonathan Brass seriously wondered if he should've made a different choice of career. That rainy, exceptionally dark day was definitely one of them. He watched with narrowed eyes how a yet another bodybag was carried past him.

"How many?" he demanded in an instant when steps paused beside him.

His partner, detective Ava Fuentes – whose twenty-eight years old brown eyes had already seen far too much – sighed heavily. "The latest count is thirty-two, including Myers. But that number's going to rise."

Jonathan gritted his teeth, feeling a wave of cold.

Dr. Stan Myers. A psychiatrist and a serial killer who'd started this sick game for reasons they could only begin to guess. Soon they might have answers, though. There was a possibility that one of the two victims they'd actually found alive would pull through.

A fool's hope, but hope nonetheless.

"Any word from the hospital?" he inquired, his tone low with all the emotions he forced down to the back of his throat.

Ava rubbed her face with one hand while shaking her head. Obviously she didn't care if there'd be nothing left of her makeup once she was done. Not that a woman with her looks would've had to. If Jonathan himself had been younger… "Not yet. But… You saw the condition they were in. Do you honestly think that they stand a chance?"

Jonathan's jaw tightened. He didn't really want to answer. Instead he shivered and looked around him, taking in the blood stained wooden walls.

In his opinion the mutilated corpses weren't the worst part, no matter how many there were and how young some of the victims seemed. Even all the blood didn't get to him that much. He'd seen too much of it during his career. Nor was it the reek of death and rotten flesh. He'd investigated a million crime scenes and not all of the victims had died recently. The toys they found from one room made him want to throw up. He preferred not thinking of what'd happened to the child or children they'd been brought for. It was, however, the very air in the house that chilled him. All those taken lives, all those violently butchered souls… It felt like they hadn't left, not really.

This one was definitely a house of horrors. For the first time since his childhood Jonathan believed with all his heart that a place could be haunted.

"Brass! Fuentes!" The voice of Tony Scavo, their protégé and rookie, was full of sheer shock. Considering the horrors around them it wasn't a huge surprise. But for one reason or another the hair in the back of Jonathan's neck rose. "You've gotta see this!"

He exchanged a loudly speaking look with Ava before they began to move, hands on their guns. Both of them wondered the same. What more could there possibly be?

They got their answer as soon as they entered the tiny, almost completely dark room. It wasn't the blood splashed all over the walls and the floor that got to them – they'd seen far worse inside this hellhole already. It was the chair.

It was made of hard, sturdy wood and bolted to the floor so heavily that there probably wasn't a tool that would've been able to pull it off. There were metallic restraints fastened to it – restraints that had bloodied spikes on them. Major arteries, Jonathan realized. If the one tied up would've tried to break free on their own they would've bled to death. The wood had been scratched, so hard that some fingernails had been pulled off. The chair was dark and moist with blood, urine and something else. Ammonia could be smelled in the room's suffocatingly heavy air.

And there, in the room's corner, was a forgotten TV. The screen was completely black apart from the blood red letters that'd appeared.

'GAME OVER'

It was Ava who voiced what they were all thinking. "What the fuck has happened in this house?"

After all the horrors he'd faced Spencer savoured the soft, white light he floated in. There was no cold, no pain. No fear. It didn't matter that he knew that he should've been fighting to get back… to what, really? He was in heaven.

He heard voices but was fairly sure that they belonged to another world entirely.

'We're losing him!'

'… vitals are stable, for now.'

'… five minutes…'

'C'mon, kid. Just hang in there. Come back to us, okay?'

'Please wake up.'

Until suddenly, one voice was louder. Clearer. More real. "Spence."

Spencer's heart jumped at the sound of that static female voice. In an instant horrifying memories flashed through his head. Somewhere nearby a beeping sound grew almost frantic.

Emma…?

He tried to speak out until he felt the pain in his lips and remembered. He'd spoken too much. He wouldn't be allowed to say another word.

The beeping was hysterical.

"Spence, it's… It's okay. You're safe now." A soft, gentle hand took his. A familiar hand. And finally, finally he recognized. JJ…? "We're all safe. Just… Just stay with me, for a moment. Before you go back to sleep. Please?"

Spencer didn't have the heart to deny her anything. He tried to nod but wasn't sure if he actually managed to do anything. It was so very hard to stay awake…

Or perhaps this was all a dream, after all.

Real or not he clung to the feel of her touch, to her comforting warmth. Little by little the beeping calmed down.

"I know that it's much too soon, but… The police is getting restless. They want to know what happened." She swallowed so loudly that he heard it. "I… need to ask you a couple of questions."

The beeping grew faster once more while terror made his heart take an extra beat.

No… No, please…! Don't make me…

"I'm so sorry, Spence. I'm sorry. But… But if I don't do this…"

… then someone else will, Spencer's cloudy mind filled in bitterly. And so he lay there and listened, without any other choice. Which was something he'd grown sadly accustomed to during the past who knows how many days.

JJ waited for the beeping to calm down a little bit before she began. Her hand never left his. "We… We know that you were taken from the parking lot, when we came back home from that case. Garcia… She got us the surveillance footage." JJ spoke as though it'd hurt to talk, which was most likely the case. He would've given a lot if he would've been able to console her, to at least look at her. She cleared her throat. "A… A man named Morgan Fiennes started this whole game. He used to work in a church. The first clues… They led us to him." She took a breath. "His body was placed to what looked like an altar. It'd been embalmed with great skill. He was called Bellringer and… Doctor was trained by him. Was… Was Doctor your captor?"

Flashes filled his head once more, striking him breathless with their merciless force. Something warm slid down his cheeks while he inhaled and exhaled rapidly, nearly hyperventilating. The one squeeze he gave was frantic, desperate.

"Okay. Okay." Were those… tears he heard? He didn't want to make JJ cry. It was quiet for a while before she went on. "What… we don't understand is 'why?'. While… you were there… Did they tell you why they took you?"

Once again the beeping sped up while unpleasant memories took over. Spencer's body squirmed while he squeezed as tightly as he could.

/ "You can't even imagine how many troubled beings were brought before me, every day. I know that particular look in someone's eyes the second I meet them. That's why I'm so good at my current job. I can tell in an instant who needs me. When I saw you leave that store I knew that you need me." /

"Shh, Spence… Shh… Everything's okay. You… You're safe now. Just… Just relax. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." JJ took a deep, shuddering breath, bracing herself. "Your captor… Did you ever see his face? Would you recognize him?"

Spencer felt like someone had just kicked him. Once more the beeping grew frantic. He squeezed JJ's hand convulsively, terror making his heart hammer furiously.

Didn't they know…?

"Is that a yes, or no? Spence, I don't…" And then it hit her. She shuddered. "Were there two of them?"

He squeezed once, as hard as he could. If possible the beeping kept speeding up. Terror balled into his throat, almost suffocating him. Then he squeezed again. And again. And again.

Auntie… She was still out there. She could…

"No, no, no! Spence, please, don't go back to sleep yet." She held his hand just a little bit tighter and he was vaguely aware of the pain it caused. It was the only thing keeping him awake – supposing that he was actually awake. "Was… Was the other captor also a man?"

Desperate to reach out to her, to warn her, Spencer attempted with all his might to squeeze her hand twice. He wasn't sure if he actually succeeded. He was already falling back into the all too familiar hue.

"…Spence…!"

He couldn't hear or feel anything anymore. It was chillingly comforting.

It was on day six from finding that house Jonathan Brass finally got the call he'd been waiting for. One of the two captives they'd found alive was finally in the condition to answer questions. He sped to the hospital as fast as he could, tempted to put the siren on.

Outside the captive's room a elderly nurse – Tara, her nametag announced – was waiting for him with a stone hard expression, her arms folded. "The patient may be awake and coherent. But do not push too hard, understood? We barely managed to keep this poor soul alive. Don't damage our hard work."

Jonathan nodded meekly. Inside the hospital's walls Tara had all the power. He needed to respect that. "I won't. Thank you." With that he entered the room, all too aware of the fact that the nurse's eyes were on him until he closed the door between them.

He entered, and faced Mandy Logan.

He wasn't overly surprised by the guarded look on her face. Fear was a perfectly normal reaction considering the fact that she'd been held hostage and tortured for who knows how long, then stabbed six times and left to bleed to death. He tried not to stare at her but it was almost impossible. Her long, black hair hid some of her face but he still noticed the burn marks. One impossibly green eye examined him intently, a scar ran past the other, obviously blind milky white one. The most vivid visible scars, however, were those on her arms. Jonathan couldn't tell what they'd been done with but several of them seemed deep enough to reach the bone. He didn't even want to know how many scars there were that he couldn't see. Without all those battle scars… she would've been a strikingly beautiful twenty-five year old.

"It's impolite to stare." Her voice was stunningly clear, considering how long she'd spent in captivity. Myers must've spoken with her.

He gave her an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry. It's just… incredible what you've made it through." Realizing that he hadn't introduced himself yet he pulled out his badge and showed it to her. "I'm detective Jonathan Brass, from the local police."

She gave him a wry smile, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't see too well, so I'll just have to take your word on that." She frowned. "I don't really understand why you're here, though. Myers is dead. Isn't the case closed?"

Jonathan offered the visibly tense woman another smile, trying to help her calm down. "I'm just trying to wrap things up. This… is the biggest case I've ever faced. Probably the biggest one ever in this district."

Mandy's eyebrow bounced up. "I guess that's a fairly solid conclusion with that many bodies piled up."

He shrugged. In a few moments he dared to make the first question. "I just… can't help feeling like we've missed something." He sat down. "Do you… remember being taken?"

Mandy nodded, focusing on her bandaged hands. "I… I have no idea of how long ago it was. I was so out of it at the time that it's little I do remember." She showed him the other side of her arms. There were long, clearly self-inflicted scars. Some of them ran past her wrists. "I… I honestly thought that I wanted to die, you know? I didn't want to live until Doctor showed me the light."

Jonathan frowned. "Doctor? As in Myers?"

Mandy nodded again, licked her lips. Her hands were shaking while she got lost into the memories. "I… don't remember much of being taken – I was high at the time. I was on my way back to the basement where I'd slept in for the past week when someone called out to me. Then… Nothing. I woke up in a tiny room. Doctor was there."

Jonathan swallowed, shivering slightly. "That's how your game began."

Finally Mandy looked directly at him. He'd never seen the kind of a expression he did just then. It was impossible to read. "It's much more than just a game, detective. You won't understand until you've played."

Jonathan felt chills at that. There was tingling underneath his skin. "You're right, you know? A lot of people died there. How did you survive for so long?"

Mandy's expression was unreadable. "That's simple. I just played better than the others."

The tingling intensified, burned. Finally Jonathan was ready to ask the question he'd come for. "Do you think that it's possible that there were more than just one captor?"

Mandy blinked twice. Her mouth opened but before she could voice a thing there was a knock on the room's door. He gave her an apologetic look, seething inside. "I'm sorry. I'll be right back."

Mandy merely gave him a tiny wave. Taking a breath he left the room to find nurse Tara waiting. He frowned. "I wasn't pushing her too hard."

Tara shook her head, leading him to the nurses station. "That's not it." She handed him a piece of paper. "A FBI agent, Jareau, asked me to deliver this to you, since this is officially your case now. She said that now you can leave Dr. Reid alone."

The frown on his face deepening Jonathan folded the paper open. What he saw made absolutely everything inside him freeze.

'We were right. There were two killers. One of them was a woman.'

Words he'd just heard echoed in his ears.

/ "I didn't want to live until Doctor showed me the light." /

/ "I just played better than the others." /

/ "It's much more than just a game, detective." /

His eyes widened while his heart nearly stilled in his chest. "Jesus…!" With that he barged into the room. Only to discover that there wasn't a trace left of Mandy Logan.

/ "You won't understand until you've played." /

Spencer's comforting, white light was disturbed. It wasn't a place of peace and serenity anymore. Nightmares sneaked in, like a snake into the Garden of Eden.

He was back with Doctor and Auntie. Beaten, tortured, violated. He cried, begged and prayed but nothing helped. Jason died. He died, slowly and painfully, far more times than he could count. The cycle spun on endlessly.

Perhaps it wasn't much of a surprise that he woke up to his own scream. In a overwhelming, chaotic flash he became aware of two things.

He was awake. He was in pain, in more of it than ever. But he was also actually able to open his mouth again, to scream. He screamed again, just because he finally could, unleashing all the agony and terror that'd been building up inside him during his time in hell.

He screamed, again, again and again, until he didn't even really have a voice anymore.

He wondered how long the hand had been squeezing his until he actually felt it, how many times the voice had been calling out to him. "Reid! Reid!" The hand tightened. "Kid, c'mon. You were having a bad dream, that's all. Wake up."

Just a bad dream?, he wondered, rather with confusion than bitterness. No, it wasn't a dream. For far too many days it was his life. Almost.

His breathing hitching with panic he ripped his hand free from the hold and brought both of his hands to his face, his whole body shaking violently. Flashbacks came flooding in, so vivid and sharp that his breathing became nothing but pained gasps.

He didn't realize what he was doing until Derek grabbed his wrist, as tightly as the man dared to. It shocked him a little that the feeling of someone restraining him forcefully felt perfectly normal. Almost… safe. "Hey, hey! Stop that, okay? Stop. Your face bleeds."

Slowly yet surely the pain radiating from the scratches he'd just torn to his skin registered, blending perfectly to the pain in the rest of his body. He sobbed once, unable to produce tears, and fought furiously to get his breathing back under control. To regain any control over his body and soul at all.

They were both silent for the longest time, needing the time to gather themselves, until Derek spoke quietly. The man's voice wasn't perfectly steady. "You… can talk now, Reid. And you can open your eyes. I need you to look at me."

It was a huge struggle, mostly because Spencer was terrified of finding out if he could see at all after Auntie's handling. It didn't make things any easier that at the moment he had the physical strength and stamina of your average newborn. But he obeyed, followed the rules, in the end managing to force his eyes slightly open. At first all he could see was blur. Then, just before he began to panic once more, Derek's face cleared. The older agent looked like he hadn't been sleeping in a month. Was it possible that the man had been crying? And then Spencer noticed the sling, supporting Derek's left arm. His eyes widened.

Instantly noticing his distress Derek offered him a tiny, rather weak smile. "It's just a scratch. I'm okay. We're all okay." The man's eyes darkened, became troubled. "It's you we've all been fretting over for the past two weeks and ten days. You have no idea of how badly you scared us."

Spencer frowned and licked his lips. They were dry, full of tiny wounds. "Two… weeks?" he rasped, hating the way his voice sounded. His throat was on fire.

"That's how long you've been in a hospital, kid." Derek winced, taking a mug of water that'd been sitting on the tiny table beside him. "I'm sorry about your throat. You've only been off the respirator for two days." The agent brought the mug close to his lips. "Your very own nurse for the day said that this might help, if you'd wake up. Slow, small sips, okay? This is no contest."

Spencer drank gratefully, each mouthful tasting like heaven although the water stung hellishly, hurt like acid. The thought made him wince. He ended up taking a too long sip and coughed loudly, in pain and startle gasping which only made him cough harder.

"Hey, didn't I tell you to take it easy?" Derek admonished but it came out barely even half heartedly. The agent's eyes were full of worry.

Spencer wiped his mouth and looked away, embarrassed and exhausted. So he couldn't even drink properly anymore. "Sorry." He then frowned, his mind spinning wildly. "JJ…?"

Derek grinned, just a little bit. It brought him a pleasant sensation of familiarity. "She's been here for days. You woke up for her once, when they lowered the dosage of your sedatives so that she could…" The man hesitated, which appeared disturbingly abnormal. "She… wanted me to tell you to hang on tight, in case you'd wake up."

Spencer nodded, unable to look at the other agent, and shivered. He had no clue what to say to that. Instead he chose to switch topic. His chest grew cold when a thought crossed him. "Auntie… Where…?"

"You… mean Mandy, right? The other UnSub?" Derek's face replied long before the man's mouth. There was an expression of rage and guilt. "She's… still on the run. But don't worry, we'll catch her. Until then I'll make damn sure that she won't hurt you again."

Spencer felt a stab of sadness. It would've been so nice to be able to trust those words, but… All of a sudden something crossed his mind, made his eyes widen. "Gideon…! Where…? Is he okay?"

Derek frowned, obviously completely lost. "What, Gideon…?" The man shook his head. "Kid, you… You must've been dreaming. We searched through the entire house and didn't catch a trace of Gideon. He couldn't have been there."

Those words made Spencer feel like someone had dropped a sledgehammer to his chest. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, each breath requiring far more effort than he would've been prepared for. He brought a hand to his chest when it began to hurt. Tears leaked to his cheeks.

Jason… If they hadn't found him he was still… Or then he was…

Oh, no… Please no…!

He shivered but didn't have the energy to protest when clearly agitated, worried Derek brought a oxygen mask to his face. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe. This'll help you." The man took his hand, held on tight. As though afraid that he might slip away. "Try to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

Spencer did fall asleep, unable to resist. The nightmares were already waiting for him.

There was only a slight limp in Mandy's steps while she made her way towards a firmly locked, long ago abandoned warehouse. She gave her environment a long look, making sure that there were no prying eyes or security cameras, then pulled out a sharp knife. Her expression didn't change the slightest while she cut the skin of her shoulder slightly, in the end pulling out a tiny key. She paid no attention to the blood while she put away the key, then opened the warehouse's door. Almost complete darkness greeted her. She smiled, instantly relaxing slightly.

The dark made her feel at home. Reminded her of Bellringer.

"Mommy!" She blinked once, slightly startled, until Emma rushed towards her through the dark and wrapped a pair of arms around her, visibly excited. "I missed you."

She smiled slightly, ruffling the child's hair. It took a couple of moments before she spoke. "Where's our guest?"

Emma nodded towards the inner parts of the warehouse. "He's the'e, 'eading." The little girl seemed slightly disappointed. "He doesn't talk a lot."

"I know. Some people are like that." She began to walk forward, trying not to limp as much in front of Emma. "Now let's go and greet him, shall we?"

A tiny beacon of light led her to their guest. Just like Emma had said Jason Gideon was sitting there in a makeshift living room, a book he'd most likely found from her collection sitting on his lap. It didn't look like he'd focused on it a lot, though. He hadn't made it past page sixteen. She couldn't blame him, not after what he'd seen two weeks ago.

/ The second the TV was switched on Jason's eyes widened to a nearly impossible extend. The screen had been divided to two parts. One half showed a hooded, bloodied and battered person sitting on a filthy floor, right at Doctor's feet. The other half showed Spencer, tied firmly to a surgical table. Jason's breathing was quick and shallow. Soon enough he'd start hyperventilating.

Not feeling a hint of mercy Auntie began. "This round is fairly simple, Jason. There are two other players in this game, now. You can save one of them. Only one. Now, the only question goes…" She leaned closer, smelled his terror and rage. His life. He hadn't been this alive since he'd been taken in. "Is it going to be a mystery person – possibly someone you don't even know? Or is it going to be Spencer? Your former teammate. Your surrogate son. The one you brought to the FBI."

Tears rolled down Jason's cheeks, mixing together with blood. "You can't do this…!"

She smiled. "Yes, I can. And I will." She brushed his face with a far from gentle hand. "Now, tick tock. You've got thirty seconds."

The tears rolled faster as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The answer came in fifteen seconds. "Spencer", he breathed out. "It's… It's Spencer. I choose Spencer."

She nodded. "Alright." She brought her finger to her ear, knowing that Doctor was listening, waiting. "Remove the hood and finish up. He chose."

Doctor did as ordered. She'd never, ever heard the kind of a sound that was ripped from Jason when the hood was removed – to reveal the barely recognizable face of his son Steven. "NO! No, no, no, no! He's got nothing to do with this! Don't touch him! Don't you dare touch him!"

Ignoring his screams and pleas she spoke while Doctor began the work, right before Jason's eyes. "You made your choice, Jason. There's no undoing it. This is your final round. In five minutes you'll be released from this chair. As soon as that happens take the envelope under the chair and read my note. This game is nearly over but you're about to start a new one soon." She began to leave. "Now, I've got another round to finish. It's a part of your round as well, to teach you the consequences of your choices." So saying she closed the door without looking back. /

Mandy smiled. "Hello, Jason. I see that you're following the rules of this new game well."

"I read your letter." He glared at her with narrowed, venomous eyes. Finally, finally he seemed truly alive. "What the hell have you done to my grandson? Where is he?"

TBC, for an epilogue.

A/N: Uh huh… (gasps) That… was a rollercoaster! I'm actually exhausted after getting that one done. Phew!

Poor Reid. He's finally out of that hellhole but is he ever going to be the same? (winces) And Gideon's fate doesn't look any brighter.

PLEASE, leave a note – let me know how ya feel after finishing this beast of a chapter! The epilogue is ALMOST done but it'd be awesome to finish it with a lil' bit of support. So… Pwease…?

Until the next and (SNIFFS) last one! (I'm seriously going to miss this, can you believe it?) I REALLY hope you'll all stay tuned.

Peace out!

Steph: Indeed! Let's hope that the team actually came AND not too late.

Awww, you're DEFINITELY one. (grins and hugs) I'm excited to hear that you've enjoyed the ride and reviewed. I'm a embarrassingly lazy reviewer myself (a habit I'm trying to kick out), so it's a HUGE honor to me.

Massive thank yous for the AMAZING review!