Reid climbed into the driver side of the vehicle, having delayed his nagging thoughts until he could stop and attend to them completely, as so not to morph them into something else. There was something about that kid that he didn't like. He didn't seem protective. More...territorial. The warning in his eyes told him to back of, but something else was in them. An or else. Spencer couldn't explain it, but he had an instinct that was often replied upon by colleagues, and he wasn't about to question it.

Removing his glasses, the glare tried to blind him, but his eyes resisted. He had noticed it these last few days. It was becoming less and less painful, and now he could look outside without his lids filtering out the light.

Placing his satchel on the passenger seat, he sat back, and reviewed the present case for the millionth time, something he did at each new piece of information. No matter how minute it seemed.

Ok, two girls murdered within two weeks. Within days of Anya moving here. Similar physical descriptions, same university, each living in a 20 mile radius. Anya reports old boyfriend, drug addict/ alcoholic (questionable, Garcia found no records regarding treatment or rehabilitation periods), but has received anger management in the past.

He considered her words when she spoke about her luck with phones, as she glanced up kindly to that boy, the one he didn't trust. physically, he was different. His file said brown hair, hazel eyes, about a couple of inches shorter than him, and this kid was of a muscular build, hinted even under his long sleeved shirt. He also had lighter hair and green eyes. But something about his voice...

Something snapped.

Anya said she hadn't seen him for months...

"This one came to my aid..."

Flipping out his cell, he dialed Hotch's number, and only waited a second before he picked up.

"Hotcher here," his voice drones, low and detached.

"Hotch, I've just seen Anya, she's fine, but I don't think she's safe," he rushed out, his voice tripping slightly over his rapid words. His heart was thumping. Adrenaline surged through him. "How do you know?" he asked on the other end. But Reid wasn't ready to answer that now. He knew how scared he sounded now. "Get the team together, 20 minutes." He slapped the cell shut and threw it aside, started the engine and sped from the car lot.

He paced into the room, in which Morgan, Rossi, JJ and Prentiss sat, while Hotch and Garcia stood at the front next to the screen. "Go on," Hotch motioned, waiting with his hands held in front, his almost constant frown in place. Reid didn't take time to make eye contact with anyone else. "Ok, Derek, Emily, when Anya- I mean, Miss Morson, talked about that boyfriend, she said she didn't see him for months, right?" They nodded thoughtfully.

"Until one of her last nights at home," Derek recalled, and Reid stared at him, disheartened. "It was dark!" he realized suddenly, and he felt eyes surveying him in frustration. "Right," he began, his finger in the air to make a point, "What if," he proposed, slowly and carefully, "in those months he...changed?"

Without looking up at the following silence, he continued. "His physical description said he was basically of thin build and 5ft 8, but the kid i just met at the college with Anya is probably a few pounds short of Morgan. And we've seen how that can change a person's face," he concluded, and looked up quickly to see Morgan sneering at him.

"You think it's him?"

Reid made eye contact with JJ, who was watching him doubtfully. "The face, now i think of it, is similar. I felt like she was sending me a sign."

"Why?"

"She said, "he came to my aid." She also signed that she was ok." He took a seat, feeling slightly dizzy, not meeting any of the eyes. "What if he's trapped her, forcing her into something in exchange for not..." he trailed off, and his wide eyes felt worn. Emily patted his shoulder maternally. "We should check it out, just to be sure," she finally announced, feeling Reid's shoulder relax beneath her hand.