ADAPTATION {Spencer Reid x Reader} ||✔️

The Game

Content Warnings: Talks of murder, manipulation, ownership, swearing (if i missed anything let me know)

It was safe to say that I was now, statistically, more likely to get caught. 

But, truth be told, I didn't fucking care. I wasn't going to be alone in this. And for the first time, I trusted someone. 

This innocently little being, who still slept with a blankie and who decided to walk on the dark side, was all mine. Mine to destroy. Mine to reprimand. Mine to fucking own. Because that's what it boiled down to. I owned her.

"Here she is," she said with a smile. I loved her smile. It was the sun peeking through the cloud on a dreary winter day. I looked down at what we'd be taking, doing the math in my head on how long we could go before we'd stop for gas.

"I see we like the finer things in life," I was staring at a Porsche. It scared me. I knew that if they found out where I was, Garcia could hack this thing in no time. She's done it before. But it didn't matter. We were taking it.

"It's what I bought with the money my parents left me," she looked sad. But I didn't have time to unpack her trauma at the moment. Actually, I don't think we'll ever have time to unpack her trauma. I haven't even unpacked mine.

"It's pretty. Now come on we have to go." She hopped in the passenger side as I threw her bag in the back. And then, we were off. I sped down the road, doing my best to get us out of DC as fast as possible. I knew cops were on the lookout for me. So, while I wanted to do 100 mph to get the distance between us, I couldn't. I followed almost every road law. Not wanting to be too good because that looks just as suspicious.

We drove is silence, my mind racing with options of where we could go. Realistically, we needed to leave the country. But with my team after me, that was practically impossible. I needed a plan. I also knew I couldn't go to Vegas, they all knew me there.

I think that's one of the things I didn't think through when I started this. I was never going to be able to see my mother again. Sure, by this point, her illness was so bad she barely remembered me. But sometimes she remembered. Sometimes she knew who I was. Sometimes she recalled the childhood I'd had. How she was so proud of me.

And all's I could think about was how I failed her. Her genius son could do anything he wanted with his life. Could make all the money he wanted, cure diseases at the drop of a dime. But no. I'd decided to join the FBI. I decided to become more damaged. So damaged that I decided to become a killer. To become what I'd spent my life hunting.

"What are you thinking about?" Her soft voice pulled me from my mental spiral. I turned to look at her for a moment before going back to the road.

"Just about what's next." She moved and gripped my hand. Her hand looked so tiny compared to mine. It was endearing, really. She laced her fingers with mine, squeezing my hand. I felt a calm wash over me, her hand in mine grounding me. I returned the gesture which caused a smile to creep onto her pretty face.

She didn't say anything, letting the comfortable silence fill the space. I held her hand the entire time. I silently wished I'd met her sooner. Maybe she could've prevented all of this from happening. If I'm being honest, all's it would've taken was one person to see I was losing it. One person to notice and we'd be in much different positions.

But they didn't. They never did. I was alone in everything.

You could say I was bitter. And I was. It's hard watching a system that you dedicate your life to, turn its back. For them to shrug and say 'oops sorry that happened. Not our issue.' I felt like it was never-ending. It was one trauma after the next in that building. And when I finally snapped, pulling the trigger on an unsub before the team got there, no one even stopped to ask if I was okay. They didn't see the rush I felt watching his brains splatter against the wall. Watching his blood pool under him.

They say the first kill has the largest high. That criminals spend forever trying to recreate that. And maybe I was the exception. Because I'd killed 25 times after that, each one making me higher than the last. Most of them were unsubs, scum of the planet who didn't deserve a chance to walk free. And maybe that's why, as I pulled the trigger, I didn't think twice. Why I didn't blink.

Some, I'd managed to make look like accidents or suicides. Some I managed to actually make them pull the trigger themselves. Manipulation was my game. And I was fucking amazing at it. I can't even explain how many times I'd managed to get myself out of situations with a little bit of manipulation. The FBI practically fucking invented that shit. We, as profilers, were trained to manipulate suspects into confessions.

I guess you could say that's how I got y/n to leave with me. I'd manipulated her body to produce enough oxytocin to love me. Enough to trust me. Enough to leave with me.

The BAU had to know it would be a challenge to catch me. They had to know that this was going to be one of their hardest cases. I excelled in almost everything I did. Every fucking tiny move I had made was calculated. Murder was no different. Emily Prentiss and JJ had to know that it could be years before they get close enough. Sure, they knew it was me. And sure, they could profile me easier than any unsub we'd ever faced. But I also knew them. I knew their individual profiles. And I knew how to use it to get away with it.

And I planned on it. I planned on never being caught. Going on the run until I died or falling off the grid. That would be easy for me. I didn't need much. And what I did need, I had. Fake passports, fake names, fake everything. I was conditioned to be a killer. The FBI conditioned me. This was their fault.

And I would condition the beauty beside me. I'd teach her the skill for if we ever got caught. I'd give her the story that she would tell them. I'd teach her how to profile. How to manipulate. How to get away. I'd make sure there was little to no blood on her hands. Allow her to be free to continue what I'd started. I had a plan for her, now. She was mine to train. I was going to make her into the perfect sidekick. I had an agenda, and she was going to help me. She was going to finish it if I ever couldn't.

Let the games begin. 

... 

a/n: This is so late but it's here! Thank you all for being so patient with me. I love you all so much xxxxxx