Have faith little one
'Til your hopes and your wishes come true.
You must try to be brave little one.
Someone's waiting to love you - Someone's Waiting For You - Disney's Rescuers 1977

Reid stumbled out of the shed, Charles' strong grip being the only thing keeping him on his bloody, broken feet soon to be numb from the cold.

"Pick it up!" the gruff voice demanded.

"What?" Reid didn't like the way his brain couldn't process anything as he was shoved towards the ground. Only then did his eyes lock on to the shovel.

"Dig!" Reid looked up to see the gun pointed at his head. "And don't try anything stupid!"

Reid looked from the shovel to his captor, and back again. Gideon had once told him about how he had beaten the Footpath killer with the profile. Then again with Philip Dowd, he had drilled into his protégé the importance of understanding the mind and the profile. Those were the keys to survival…but this, this made no sense. They had profiled Hankel as a mission based killer, someone who didn't take pleasure in torture. He merely slit people's throats and was done in seconds…so why after a confession wasn't he getting an easy way out? Oh, that's right, they had profiled Rafael, not Charles'….Charles loved torture. He almost hoped the team didn't find them. He didn't want to find out what mistakes the team would make in the minutes it would take them to recognize the Dissociative Identity Disorder staring them in the face. Maybe it would be better to make a grab for the gun. Death by unsub, then at least the team wouldn't be put in jeopardy trying to rescue him….that is if the dimwits ever figured out his clue. If anyone could it would be Hotch. But every minute that passed made that less and less likely.

He carefully grabbed hold of the shovel, wincing as the pain in his back spiked. Whatever Hankel had hit him with sure hurt like all Hell. A scream died on his lips, he didn't have the strength to scream…breathing alone was almost impossible. Reid grabbed the handle and used it as a crutch to help himself up. Taking a deep breath, he put his least injured right foot against the shovel for leverage, but the tool barely moved.

"I said, dig, you weakling."

"I can't!" Reid panted, trying to catch his breath, a scream dying on his lips. Why was breathing suddenly a Herculean task? He felt like screaming, but he couldn't. It was just too painful. He leaned over the handle of the shovel as his knees gave way and the shovel fell beside him. Let Charles shoot him, it would be a blessing compared to this agony.

"Pathetic, just like my son!"

"Tobias help." He begged, curled up in the dirt. If Tobias was in there at all, he'd at least have the decency to put him out of his misery, salvation didn't even occur to him anymore. Tobias wasn't strong enough to defeat his father…but he might just give him another pain killer so he could die in peace. The still rational part of his brain hated himself for begging for the drug. The other half, consumed with pain just didn't give a damn any more.

"You're not getting off that easy!" Charles snarled as he began digging just a few feet way away from Reid's tear-streaked face, ignoring his pleas for help.

Reid watched as the man dug a grave – his grave – wishing that he could switch off his brain and go to sleep. Maybe he'd get some small satisfaction knowing that he was depriving Hankel of the joy of watching him die. Getting one over an unsub always felt good. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how his death would affect his mom. Would she mourn his loss or be glad that she no longer had to pretend to love the man who had locked her away? Somehow he doubted someone suffering delusions could be that good at acting. He knew she loved him, knew he was being stupid for thinking otherwise. Keep breathing. One more breath, come on. He could do this. No thinking, no moving, no digging. Each breath felt like his lungs were on fire, but all he had to do was just one more. Always just one more.

Derek Morgan climbed out of the SUV, slamming the door behind him as he pulled out his gun and flash light. That SOB of an unsub had better not hurt the boy genius or there was going to be some serious payback. Scratch that, payback was a bitch and it was coming.

A quick survey of the road showed that his SUV was the first one to arrive at Marshall Parrish. "Where the Hell is everyone?"

"Hey, Morgan, calm down." Emily, ever the voice of reason. That much reason in the field should not be present in a desk job rookie. Whatever gave her that calm, he was glad for it, and wasn't about to question it, at least not right now.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he first heard, then saw a multitude of sirens, racing toward him. Relief was followed by confusion when an ambulance was the first to pull up. The driver ran to him, while his partner opened the ambulance bay doors to get the gurney.

"What's going on here?" he asked as he was joined by the rest of the team.

"We got a 911 call that there had been a stabbing."

"911 call? But there's no cell …."

"She said the patient's name was Spencer -"

"She?"

"Caller's name was Penelope G-"

"Do we have a visual on him?" Morgan all but demanded of the police chief before he could even shut the cruiser door, leaving the EMT wondering where his patient was.

"No. But your tech said he was alive last she saw."

That was all the team needed to hear as they began to descend on the cabin. Morgan all but knocked down the door before giving the all clear. He lowered his gun, his eyes glued to the chair and handcuffs as Prentiss complained about the smell of…whatever that sickening stench was. It was a wonder there wasn't vomit everywhere. Oh, right, Reid probably hadn't eaten in….way too long. There probably wasn't enough to vomit. When he got the genius doctor back, he was going to leave him to the mercy of Baby Girl's smothering and cooking.

"James 2:19." Gideon's solemn voice read aloud, picking up the Bible and reading the highlighted passage. "Thou believest that there is one God; thou doest well: the devils also believe, and tremble."

"Let's spread out, they have to be on foot!" Hotch, hollered, all but ignoring Gideon. What did they care which passage was left? Morgan didn't even bother to correct Hotch. They already had the area locked down, even if Hankel had acquired a vehicle there was no way he was getting past the checkpoints. On foot was their – Reid's – best chance.

In a matter of seconds, the FBI team joined the police searching the grounds, bathing the graveyard in light. Calls of "Reid" and "Spence" filled the creepy grave yard

Come on, Reid. Give us a sign. It was a bit below the belt to expect a victim to solve the crime, but Reid wasn't an ordinary victim. He was a genius with FBI training. But he was still human. He wasn't some damned super computer that could calculate his way out of a beating, even Reid had his limits and Morgan had a feeling time was almost up. Come on, Pretty Boy, give us a few more minutes.