Author's Note: These are a bunch of CM shorts that I felt inspired to write. They'll be Reid-centric. I will use bits from actual episodes. I don't own the rights to CM or the characters, though I wish I did. This is my take on what happened between the bits that we see in episode 300.

Part One- 300th Victim

"Spencer, just shoot her. Shoot her!"

Dr Spencer Reid's blood ran cold at the sight of Penelope Garcia in the back seat of the black sedan, her palms pressed to the glass in fear and the barrel of a gun hovering unnervingly close to her head. His heart drummed a steady rhythm into his ribs. Mary Meadows trained her own firearm on him. Spencer could not allow anything to happen to Penelope. He swallowed hard as he tossed his revolver at Mary's feet. He mouthed a silent apology to Penelope. He hated himself for what he was about to do; after all, it went against everything he believed in and trained for. But Penelope's life was at stake.

The six floor ride in the elevator was silent and stifling. Mary made a point of jabbing Spencer in the ribs with her gun as a stark reminder not to try anything. The pair exited the elevator into the sixth floor foyer. Spencer glanced up at the security camera and signed towards it. He was grateful for his recent decision to take up American Sign Language. He just hoped one of the other team members would understand. He knew Luke Alvez understood ASL, he just hoped some of them would remember Benjamin Cyrus at Liberty Ranch all those years ago. They briskly made their way to the interrogation room, Spencer's lanky legs taking long, anxious strides. Mary's smaller frame struggled to keep up with the taller agent whose hazel eyes darted in every direction as though looking for a means of escape. Spencer closed his thin fingers around the cold steel door handle. He hesitated. Mary roughly jammed her gun into Spencer's side as a warning.

"Tick tock, Dr Reid." Spencer pursed his lips and swallowed thickly. He swung open the door and stepped back, holding the door open, to allow Benjamin Merva and Mary past. His stomach churned. He turned to Mary.

"Your best chance of escape would be to pull the fire alarm. Director's protocol dictates that the building be evacuated. Electronic systems will shut down. No one will notice you leaving. There will be no record of you or Merva leaving. There'll be too much chaos with the evacuation. The alarm will trigger an emergency service response. You could take an ambulance and get out of here." Mary appeared to consider his words, her dark eyes narrowing in thought. She turned on her heel, her raven-coloured hair swaying behind her, Merva close on her tail. Spencer followed warily behind. He reached up and clasped the crimson handle of the fire alarm. He gave it a firm tug. Immediately, red lights began to glow and a siren sounded. The trio gathered Theo on their way back down to the parking garage, avoiding people calmly making their way to the stairwells.

The parking garage was silent. The red lights flashed against the concrete walls and pillars. Penelope's orange convertible, Esther, remained stationary in its parking space. The black sedan was long gone. Spencer's stomach tightened and his jaw clenched. His tan leather satchel was nestled against Penelope's purse on the back seat. Mary withdrew her gun from the holster and aimed it at Spencer's chest. She held out an outstretched palm.

"Cell." Spencer handed over his ancient handset, his eyes fixed unblinking on the woman before him. She tossed his cell phone onto the back seat with his bag. A pair of heavily built men carrying rifles appeared from behind two pillars. Spencer stilled as the rifles were angled on him. Mary gave a coy smile and turned away, leading Merva and Theo with her. Spencer's hands curled into fists as he eyed the two men. For all they were shorter in height than the genius, they were much more well built. Spencer had no firearm, no phone and no ability whatsoever in hand to hand combat. A black SUV skidded to a halt in front of the group. The larger man who was sharply dressed in a black suit tugged open one of the rear doors. He twisted himself around to face Spencer and slammed the butt of his firearm into his face. He gasped and gingerly touched his face, his fingertips gracing the newly formed split in his bottom lip. Pain spread in waves through his jaw. The goon brought up his knee and thrust it into Spencer's groin. Spencer doubled over, the blood from his mouth dripping steadily on the floor with soft splats. The man grabbed the handcuffs from the back of his belt and clicked them tightly around Spencer's wrists, the cold metal pinching into his skin.

"Get in." Pursing his lips, Spencer seated himself on the backseat and shuffled into the middle, his lanky knees straddling the centre console. The man climbed in after him and pulled the door shut behind him. The other sat on Spencer's opposite side. Spencer felt tense and uncomfortable with the bodies pressed either side of him and the steel chafing his wrists. He swallowed hard as the FBI office disappeared in the rear view mirror.

They had only been travelling for around fifteen minutes before the older man twisted himself in the seat and jabbed a hypodermic syringe into the top of Spencer's arm through the black fabric of his button down shirt. Spencer's mouth bobbed, his vision blurring considerably as darkness overcame his mind, the drug quickly taking effect. His chin collided with his chest, his brown curls falling over his face.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Fingers tapped relentlessly against Spencer's face. His head hung limply on his neck, his aching chin resting against his chest. Spencer let out small, groggy mumbles as he forced his eyes open. His cuffed hands rested between his parted knees. He was seated in a cold metal chair in a grey, empty room. One of the burly men from the parking garage hovered over him.

"Wake up, Dr Reid." Spencer snatched his face away from the rough hand and twisted his head to glare at the man. His jaw throbbed steadily. He lifted his hands to check the extent of the damage to his face. The blood had been cleaned off. His bottom lip had swelled slightly. Spencer let his hands drop. The chain connecting the cuffs rattled against the chair.

"She's asking for you," grumbled the man. Spencer furrowed his brow in confusion. It was as though snippets of his memory had been cut out in his drug-addled haze.

"Who?"

"Your friend. The blonde one. She hasn't stopped screaming. Perhaps she will shut up now." Spencer turned his gaze to the floor as he thought hard. Penelope... Spencer's eyes widened and he snapped his head back to the man.

"If you hurt her, I swear to god I will kill you," seethed Spencer. The man grabbed the back of Spencer's collar and dragged him to his feet. Spencer was forced into a hunched position on his feet.

"Move." Taking clumsy steps, Spencer was forced to walk by the hand gripping his shirt. The pair weaved around sealed wooden crates into a larger warehouse room. Spencer's breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon Penelope seated with a steel drum in front of her. A laptop had been opened in front of her.

"Garcia..."

"Move it!" snapped the man as he gave Spencer a hard shove. Once they approached Penelope and Mary, Spencer was forced to his knees. He groaned as his knees connected with the concrete. Penelope's dark brown eyes widened behind her cobalt blue spectacles. She noted the dark purple bruising starting at Spencer's top lip that followed the natural curve of his mouth and extended down his jaw and across his chin.

"Oh, my god, is he... You're really hurt," cried Penelope, tears threatening her lower lashes, "What... what do they want?"

"Me," answered Spencer dryly.

"Why? Why you?"

"I'd be their last victim."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. I overheard them." Spencer's stomach twisted at the thought, "There have been hundreds." Mary turned back to them and drew her gun from her holster.

"I gave you what you want. Now it's your turn. Or I'll blow his big, beautiful brains out." The muzzle of Mary's gun grazed Spencer's scalp. Spencer was unable to stop the involuntary trembling, sweat beading his face as he gazed, almost pleadingly, into Penelope's eyes.

Having given Penelope directions away from the warehouse and the best clue he had, Spencer was dragged away through the warehouse by his collar. The stout hand released his shirt once he was out of Penelope's line of sight. With a pair of men carrying rifles behind him, Spencer walked compliantly with Mary, his hands partially hiding his shackled wrists. She was rambling. Spencer was more interested in the actions of the goons around him as they hid weapons with fruit and other goods. The group came to a halt. Spencer turned to face Mary, his eyes filled with bored indifference as he worked through plan A to Z to help Penelope escape. His eyes flicked up to see her still seated in the chair, wringing her hands as she watched him.

"He saved you for a greater purpose, and this is it." Spencer took his opportunity. He lunged for the smaller man's rifle and tried to pry it away from his grip. A pair of arms wrapped around Spencer's chest, holding his upper arms close to his torso, and tugged him backwards. Spencer struggled against the hold. He stole a glance at Penelope to see she was darting for the door. A gunshot sounded, echoing around the room. Theo crumpled to the ground, blood blossoming across his shirt. The butt of a gun thudded hard against the right side of Spencer's forehead. He felt a cut open up above his eyebrow. Spencer let out a hiss of pain, though continued his efforts against the armed men. Another gun hit him on the opposite side of the head, opening another cut just below his hairline on his forehead. He could feel the slow trickle of blood down his face as darkness clouded his vision.

Spencer's head throbbed with increasing intensity as he slowly came to. His vision blurred considerably from the blows to the head. He knew he had a concussion. As he peeled his eyes open, an onslaught of light attacked his eyesight. He groaned and turned his face away from the light. He was no longer in the warehouse, but appeared to be in the trailer of an articulated truck. He was seated in another steel chair that was bolted down to the floor. Instead of cuffs restraining him, his wrists had been tightly bound to the arms of the chair with zip ties. The plastic bit into his flesh. His ankles had also been bound to the chair legs with zip ties after his earlier struggle. Merva was seated at a desk directly ahead of him, watching as a goon bandaged Mary's arm. Spencer glared at them. His face stung mercilessly, but he prayed that Penelope had escaped. By the expression of disgust on Mary's face, he suspected that Penelope had something to do with her injured arm. He had to hold back a smirk.

They had been driving for what felt like days, but in fact had only been around three hours. Spencer's limbs had become numb from his restraints and the uncomfortable chair. Bile crept up his gullet at the sight of 299 hyoid bones in a decorative case beside him. He had been warned that his would make the 300th. Spencer was surrounded by Merva, Mary and the goon. He looked up, his eyes darting between the three of them. Mary withdrew her glock and aimed it at Spencer's forehead. The goon flicked open his penknife, the blade flashing in the light. He severed the zip tie holding Spencer's left wrist down. Spencer's attention was solely focussed on Mary as a loop of the handcuffs was fastened more tightly than protocol dictated around his wrist. His right wrist came free and was quickly chained to the other. The ties binding his ankles to the chair were cut. Spencer gave an inaudible sigh of relief at the return of circulation in his feet. The goon pocketed his knife and grasped Spencer around the upper arm, tugging him to his feet.

"Move." Spencer stiffly walked forward, his feet struggling with having sensation again. He ducked his head as he stepped down from the rear of the truck. He was grateful for the dark as it made his headache easier to manage. Mary rambled some more as he was escorted to a large tent that had been set up. He noted cots lining both side of the tent. Spencer was unsure what to think as he was grabbed from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. A hypodermic needle briefly came into view before being plunged deep into his upper arm. Spencer had only one thought as his surroundings blurred as he succumbed to the drug-induced unconsciousness. Please find me...