Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.

Chapter Fourteen: Between Angels and Demon

'I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity.' –William Blake

Andrew sighed as he walked down the stairs on his usual haunt down to visit Spencer, his medical bag under his arm and a tray of food balanced in his grip. He was feeling guilty, to be quite honest. He had been so harsh on Spencer yesterday, so cruel. He had tried to escape though- he needed to teach him a lesson. He growled slightly as he thought back to yesterday's events, a grimace on his face.

After Spencer had succumbed to the tranquilizer he gave him, he hauled him into his room and cuffed him once more, deciding that he needed to fix the door immediately. Once that was done, he took a knife and blowtorch to the still unconscious patient and ran both all the way down his body, receiving barely awake jerks and moans of pain. And then when that was done he stepped back and let his partner have some time with Spencer.

This thought brought him back from his reverie, and his grimace turned to a look of disgust.

The thought of giving his patient to him for such a vile purpose was angering, and he felt like he was doing an injustice to the man. But it had to be done in order for his experiments to work- it was a concession he made once he took in his first patient.

He approached the door and unlocked it, a new padlock having been installed as the old one was weakened after the escape, and entered the room. Spencer was where he had left him- lying belly down on the bed, handcuffed, naked and still covered in blood and semen. He frowned, his heart reaching out to the man. It was so pathetic, so indignant. Anger for his reluctant partner surged through him once more, but he pushed it down, knowing that he had to continue with his experiment as unbiased as possible.

Placing the tray down on the desk, he walked closer to the man, lying his bag down on the floor as he pulled the seat over to be closer to Spencer. The blindfold was still shielding his eyes, and he was shivering in the frigid basement air. Slowly, Andrew reached down to the drawer under the bed, pulling out a spare, cotton blanket which he placed tenderly over Spencer, who stiffened at the touch.

The action rekindled Andrew's anger, but it was not visible for long as he continued to cover him, tucking the blanket under him to insure that no cold crept beneath the covers. The young patient made a soft sigh of relief as he relaxed slightly, welcoming the warmth after being exposed to the cold for so long. Too long.

Andrew then reached around his head and undid the blindfold, watching as Spencer blinked, the world came back into view, his hazel eyes squinting slightly.

"Spencer, I'm sorry I had to punish you. But you tried to escape. I just wanted to help," Andrew said, sighing sadly as he sat down in the chair he had pulled up to Reid's bed. Reid looked up at him, still lying on his belly as he tugged the blanket closer under his chin, his head nodding slowly.

"I understand," he said, licking his lips.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"Yes. I...I know now how delusional I was being. How...ridiculous I was. You were...you were right. I'm sorry," he said, swallowing as he gave the doctor a pitiful look, his hazel eyes wide and glistening. "I...I just want to be sane. I want...I need you to help me. I'm sorry I tried to escape. I'm sorry I argued with you. You were right."Andrew's mouth fell open in shock, closing every so often before he straightened his back and said, "You believe me now, Spencer? You know just how dangerously unstable you are?"

Reid smiled weakly, his lips quivering. "Yes."

"You know that you're not an FBI agent? That there is no team you work with?"

He was unreadable for a moment, his eyes glazing over briefly before he nodded and said, "Yes. There is no team, and I'm not an agent. I never have been."

To say he was shocked was an understatement. He hadn't expected Spencer to break so quickly. But he supposed it was for the best. The fact that he broke him meant his real experiments could begin.

He smiled wide, raising a hand and gently patting Spencer's shoulder.

"Now, Spencer! What great progress you've made!" he praised, chuckling jovially. His happiness ceased however when he saw the uncertain and frightened look in his eyes. He furrowed his brow, moving in closer. "What's wrong? Aren't you happy?"

Reid licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders as he said, "My wrists hurt. Can you let me out please? I want to eat breakfast anyway."

Andrew nodded as he began undoing the chains, producing another hospital gown once he was finished which his patient readily put on. "You know Spencer, there was a point where I didn't think you would ever come around. But I'm glad you did. This means we can start focusing on keeping you this way." He paused, looking down at Spencer with a prideful smile as he helped him off the bed, wrapping an arm around his waist so as to insure he didn't fall on their way to the table.

"Stay here," he said, sprinting over and grabbing the chair so he could place it once more in front of the desk. He motioned for Spencer to sit. A look of hesitation crossed his features and Andrew followed his line of sight, the restraints hanging limp from the arm of the chair. He smiled sympathetically, clapping a hand on his patient's back as he added, "I don't think the restraints will be necessary."

Spencer sighed in relief, smiling wide as he gingerly sat down, wincing at the pulse of pain it created. But the expression didn't last long as he licked his lips, removing the lid of food himself. It took less than a second after Andrew handed him his utensils that he practically attacked his meal of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon, only stopping to wash down some rather large bites with his bottle of orange juice. Syrup dribbled down his chin but he seemed not to notice as he continued his assault on the food, eating as if he hadn't seen food for days. But of course, that wasn't too off as he had been unconscious or unwilling to eat the last couple meals when Andrew brought him food.

He smiled, knowing that this alone was a major sign of improvement. Spencer was ready for his true experiments now- and he had gotten farther than his other patients ever did. Beaming with pride and happiness, he sat down on the desk, watching as Spencer finished off the pancakes hungrily, his eyes laughing at the near feral way he acted. Hopefully, now that they had crossed this milestone, he wouldn't need to hurt him anymore. He really didn't like causing him pain- he only did it because it was for the best.

Frowning deeply, he wondered about his partner and if he could get him to stop his own practices with the young man. He was positive that such a thing would hinder or even reverse the progress he'd made, but there was no guarantee he would have enough power to stop it.

"Andrew?"

He jumped, startled by the sudden voice and looked down to Spencer, who had finished eating and was now regarding him with a look of fear and concern.

"What is it, Spencer?"

He glanced down at the floor, fidgeting slightly as he began rubbing his hands together, entwining his fingers quickly as he said, "I...I'm afraid that I might try to escape again. I don't want to leave because I know that this is where I need to be- to get help- and I want to stay so I can get better. But I'm scared that I might lapse back into my delusion again and try to escape." He looked up Andrew, his eyes wide and bright with unshed tears as he asked, "I was wondering if you could use the tranquilizer on me before you leave. You leave everyday after breakfast and come back for dinner, so I was hoping that I could be given something that would keep me out until you got back. Please?"

Andrew bit his lip in thought, his heart once more wanting to reach out for him. It must be a scary thing, to believe that you're insane and not know whether your actions are based in reality or delusions. He gave Spencer a half-hearted smile as he reached into his lab cloak and produced the syringe and the same bottle of tranquilizer.

"I'm very proud of you, Spencer, for taking the initiative with this. It shows a lot, you know," he said, and Spencer smiled awkwardly at the praise, shrugging his left shoulder slightly as he filled the syringe with the tranquilizer. But just as he placed it in the crook Spencer's arm to inject it, he felt a sharp and sudden pain collide with his ribs.

He coughed as he fell to the floor, his hand letting go of the needle in the process. Rolling over to the undamaged side of his body, he wrapped his arms around his waist as he moaned at the pain. What had happened? What had hit? Slowly, so as to not irritate his sure to be broken ribs, he looked over at the chair where Spencer was sitting in, only to find it empty.

xXx

Andrew moved closer to him, the needle propped up and aimed for the bend in his arm, and Reid swallowed nervously. 'This is my chance,' he thought as he swiftly raised his left knee and jammed it as hard as he could into the man's side, hearing a victorious crack at the site of impact. Startled, Andrew fell with a thump, the syringe falling from his grip and rolling across the floor to lay beside the bathroom door.

Sending Andrew a quick look, he jumped from his seat and ran as fast as his broken leg would allow, sliding as he reached the door and the needle. He gripped it, wrapping his hands around the cool barrel as he stood, his legs wobbling with pain and nerves. He nearly yelped when he saw that the doctor had managed to stand as well, one arm holding onto the back of the chair and the other wrapping around his waist to hold his ribs, his face scrunched up in pain.

"Spencer," he wheezed, shaking his head slowly. "Don't do this. You need help."

"Go to Hell," Reid spat out venomously before using all the strength he had to jump forward and grab onto the man, knocking him over to the ground. He straddled his waist, pinning him down to the linoleum as he knocked his hands away, raising the needle outward and to the side. Andrew reached out, trying to grab hold of the syringe and to knock Reid off. But his efforts ended when Reid squeezed his knees together, his left knee once more jamming into Andrew's broken ribs.

He gasped out in pain, his hands falling to his side to hold onto the throbbing area, giving Reid the momentary opening he needed. Quickly, he jammed the needle down, pushing it in as hard as he could before pressing his thumb down on the plunger. He watched with tentative triumph as the liquid was forced into Andrew, the man's eyes wide as he cocked his head to see the needle.

Roaring in outrage, he jumped into a sitting position and reached up, grabbing onto a lock of Reid's hair and pulling him down. Reid yelped out in surprise and pain as he was forced to the floor, his scalp aching as his shoulder rammed into the leg of the chair. He hissed at the smarting scrape, shuffling on the floor as he tried to sit up. A hand reached up and fingers wrapped around his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply. He sputtered, his fingers flying to the hand around his neck and digging his nails into it as he tried to pry it off, his face turning red.

But the hand wouldn't budge and his feet kicked against the floor as he struggled to get out of the grip and breathe. His vision was becoming blurry and a large pressure sat on his chest. He opened his mouth and tried to breath in air, in vain as the hand continued to bruise his neck. High-pitched bells rang in his ears and he was sure he was about to pass out when he felt the hand slack in its grip.

Hazel eyes widened as he realized that the tranquilizer was starting to take effect. He pulled the hand away, finding that it had already gone limp and weak, and stood up, panting heavily. Andrew lay at his feet, unconscious, with his right arm pulled underneath his side- nursing the broken ribs- and his left arm was splayed across his chest, the knuckles tapping the linoleum floor.

Reid stood there for a second, stock still, as if the tiniest movement would set the mad doctor into life once more. But when the only motion Andrew made was the slight rise and fall of his chest, Reid crept forward, his fingers trembling as the searched around his hip for keys. When the tips of his fingers brushed against the cool metal of a clip, he smiled wide, hastily unfastening it from the belt loop. He raised the keys in front of his face, gently holding them in between his thumb and forefinger as though they would turn to dust with contact.

"Thank God," he breathed, standing up on screaming muscles. With the adrenaline no longer pumping through him at the height of the moment, he was suddenly aware of the throb in his leg, the ache in his backside, and the searing soreness everywhere else. But he couldn't let it overcome him now- not when he was so close!

Limping over to the door, he bent down and examined the lock before picking a small, silver key and inserting it. He turned it, but it refused to move. Sighing, he tried a second key- a medium sized silver one- only to get the same results. It wasn't until he tried the second-to-last-key that it turned in the lock and a victorious click was made from inside the mechanism. He removed the key and slowly pushed the door open, his breath escaping him when the light of the hallway flooded into the room.

He sent one final look to Andrew before walking out into the hall. He was shaking- from anxiety, the lack of adrenaline, or from sheer happiness he wasn't sure. All that mattered now was that he was out and was that much closer to getting back to his team.

Turning to the still open door, he raised a hand and pushed it close, locking it to insure that even if Andrew did wake up before he managed to leave the house, he would be locked inside. He pocketed the keys, his fingers wrapping around them as he began his ascent up the stairs, expecting to hear the sound of footsteps chasing after them.

But no one was awake to follow him.

xXx

The door to the interrogation room slammed open and Matthews jumped, the metal of his cuffs clinking against the table. When he saw the hard set look on Morgan and Hotch's faces, he smirked, leaning back in his chair as he linked his hands together.

"What's with the long faces, Agents?" he asked, his tone tilted as though he were singing.

Morgan sneered at him as he stood on the opposite side of the table, leaning forward and slamming his hands down, his palms pressed flat as he bent so close to Matthews their noses nearly touched. "What was the money for?" he asked, his voice sharp and demanding. And for the first time in their entire interview, they saw the confidence and self-assuredness fade away from the suspect. His face paled, his lips parted and he began stuttering quietly, unable to form the words and syllables he wanted to.

"I-I-I d-don't kn-know what you m-mean," he stammered, his blue eyes looking around the room nervously, unable to settle in one spot for long.

"That's bullshit," Morgan said tersely, cocking his head so as to maintain eye contact despite Matthews attempts to avoid it. "Now tell me, why did Varney pay you fifty thousand dollars?"

Matthews moved uncomfortably, shifting as far back in his seat as possible as he began wringing his hands, raising them to rub his neck as he bit his lip. "I ugh...I-"

"Mr. Matthews," Hotch started, causing Morgan to stand up straight so that his boss could take the man's attention. "I don't know what Varney told you would happen, but you need to understand that at this moment, you are not only withholding information, but you are obstructing justice as well as providing false accounts to a federal officer. The longer you play stupid, the worse your sentence will be- and trust me, the last thing you want is to waste away for thirty years in a prison cell when you could've gotten away with eight."

"Eight?" Matthews asked, his eyebrows shooting up and disappearing beneath his hair.

Hotch nodded. "It's actually a very generous sentence considering how much you've messed with this case. Now, you can give us the information we need and get as low a sentence as possible, or you can do whatever it was Varney instructed you to and worsen your fate. And keep in mind that if Dr. Reid dies because of your refusal to cooperate, you will be charged with accessory to murder on top of it all."

Matthews licked his lips as he shifted once more, the chains jostling with his movements. It felt like years before he looked up to meet Hotch's gaze, his mouth opening and closing several times before saying, "He paid me to say I was the Doctor. He said that if I was questioned by the police, to admit to being the Doctor." He looked around, meeting the eyes of the two agents as he added, "He told me what to say and how to act. He even told me that he would make sure I wouldn't go to jail."

"Well, he lied," Morgan said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did he tell you anything else? Where Reid was or an address to find him at? Anything?"

Matthews shook his head. "No, not at all. Honestly, I would tell you! I'm...I'm not going to jail for thirty years, am I?" he asked.

They shot each other a look, Hotch turning to Matthews to say, "You better hope we find Dr. Reid alive." The two then turned away, taking long strides to the door and leaving Matthews, who slumped forward in his chair, his head bowed as he looked like the perfect picture of defeat.

xXx

Reid gasped as he leaned in the door frame, his body wanting nothing more than to lay down right then and there and go to sleep, to rest away the pain and exhaustion. But he was so close! Looking up, he could see the light of outside streaming through the cotton window coverings of the back door, white paint chipping and peeling away to reveal dark brown wood. He was sitting at the top of the stairs, in the hallway that led into the kitchen. And in the kitchen was a way out.

He attempted to continue walking, but screamed with the effort, falling down to the carpeted floors. He gasped as pain shot up his spine from his backside and rolled over to sit more on his hip in a hope to relieve the soreness. His breath was coming out in short, choppy exhales, and he closed his eyes against the pain, trying to will it away. He hadn't taken into account how worn out his body was- it would have been a miracle if he made it outside in the next five minutes! But he had calculated the possible longevity of the tranquilizer to be about eight hours- based on Andrew's appearance after he awoke- and so he knew he had time to sit down and catch his breath.

He lay there for nearly twenty minutes, the pain diminishing into a dull throb that seemed trivial to what he had become accustomed to in the last six days. So he raised himself on shaking arms and, using the wall for support, continued to walk to the back door, each footstep being another victory.

When his hand grasped the round, brass knob he practically fell over in disbelief. This was it! This was his gateway to freedom!

Even the fact that it was locked didn't deter him. He simply smiled as he produced the keys, finding a small, brass one that fit the lock perfectly. In a twist and pull, the door was open and a warm breeze rushed past him, lifting flyaway strands of hair up and back. He blinked at the bright light, smiling to himself as tears prickled in his eyes. He didn't care to wipe them away- why would he? They were tears of pure, unadulterated joy!

He lifted one leg and placed it down on the grass, sighing in comfort. The cold dew that attached to every individual blade of grass felt wonderful on his burned and cut up feet, and he relished the feeling. He wiggled his toes in it as he moved more outside, letting the sunlight bathe his too pale skin. He didn't mind that the sun hurt his eyes- too used to artificial, dim lighting- and he didn't mind how the wind picked up the gown and pulled it away from his body, leaving his lower body uncovered. None of it bothered him in the slightest.

His trudging towards the road that was just visible past the trees began once more, a new wave of adrenaline rushing into him at the prospect of being so close. He was only five feet away from the tree line when he heard it.

"Dr. Reid?"

Reid jumped at the sudden voice, turning in the direction it had come from, fear swallowing him up. He had been caught. He was discovered. He had just escaped and now he would be dragged back into that Hell. Panic boiled his blood as his eyes connected with all too familiar eyes.

His moan of relief was audible as he fell to his knees, smiling up at the man. "Varney!" he shouted, his voice scratchy and hoarse. Not only had he escaped, but he had stumbled upon a police officer working the case! His smile could only widen as the tears of joy began to fall down his cheeks. In less than an hour he could be sitting with his team, his friends, his family.

"Reid...how'd you get out?" Varney asked, his eyes wide in disbelief.

The young man furrowed his brow, shooting him a confused look. Something wasn't right. He sounded shock in all the wrong ways- the type of shock where your plans are messed up, or when a young child destroys something particularly well. Not the type of shock where your delight is momentarily placed aside at the absolute impossibility of an occurrence.

Shaking his head as he rose back to his feet slowly, Reid said, "I...I need to see my team. Varney, please take me to them."

Varney gave him a stern look before shaking his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why not?"

Varney never answered him- he didn't even give Reid time to react before he raised his gun and shot it point blank at his chest.

xXx

Author's Note: I see cacti in my near future for this cliffhanger, haha. Thanks again for all your reviews and support! Review me your thoughts and suggestions!

ALSO! Remember to vote in the poll! It will remain open until I post the final chapter to this story. I will close it and then post the details to the sequel at the bottom of the Epilogue (Yes, it seems everyone's in favor of a sequel, though they differ in the contents of it.) Vote now or forever hold your peace!

YAY! We crossed the One Hundredth Review mark! Party! Here's a somewhat longer preview in honor of this celebration!

Chapter Fifteen: In All Matters (Preview)

"Did you call the Border Authority?" Hotch asked as JJ entered the room, her blonde hair pulled up into a loose bun and large, purple bags sitting below her eyes. She nodded as she sat down in a large swivel chair, crossing her legs and leaning back.

"I gave them a description of both Varney and Spencer. They promised to call and act immediately if they find anything suspicious," she said.

At the moment Morgan walked into the room, clicking his phone shut as he stood before them all. "I just got off the phone with Garcia. She did some digging around and found out that not only is Varney's mother alive and well, but she's living in Florida. But she never sold her house in Quebec, which means-"

"That could be they're hide-out," Rossi finished.

Morgan nodded. "Garcia's emailing us the address as we speak."

Hotch stood and turned to JJ. "Get the Border Authority back on the phone. Give them the address and tell them to check it out."

"Got it," she said as she stood and practically ran from the room as Hotch turned to the remaining team members, ready to give out instructions.