FOUND: A Hannigram Devil AU

28

When his life was full of uncertainty, Will turned to what he could count on.
     "Max, stop," Will laughed, leaning backwards as the German Shepherd nearly toppled him over. "You're not a lap dog. You're too big." He scratched behind the dog's ears and turned his attention to the other dogs, which were clamoring over each other. He picked Buster up, hugging him to his chest, and let Rocky climb onto his lap. The pit bull nuzzled its head into the crevice where Will's knee bent, and Will smiled.
     He always cherished the moments with his dogs before he went to bed. The dogs loved him no matter what. They stayed with him, and they always would. They wouldn't ever hurt him on purpose.
     Will got up from the floor and lay down on his bed, letting the dogs surround him. They leaned up right against him, so Will had gotten used to being cramped in the bed. That, and Buster and Bacon's snoring. The bigger dogs preferred the floor, where Will had the highest quality beds he could find. Hell, they were probably better than his own.
     He turned off the light and closed his eyes, giving Smoothie a final pat on the head. She licked the back of his hand.
     His quiet sleep was interrupted by a loud scream, a scream that had haunted him since the moment it hit his ears. His eyes shot open, and he was no longer in his bed with the dogs— he was on his stomach on the hardwood floor, peering out from the crack under the bed. His whole body trembled; he was eight again, short and lanky and so, so afraid.
     Another scream that was cut off so suddenly that it made his blood run cold. There was a succession of loud noises: the clinking of metal, a sickening snap and wet, squishy sounds. A low grunt as the stranger tore the body apart. Blending in with all of the noise was his gasps, his silent cries.
     He knew in his heart that Katie was gone. He would never see his sister again.
     He waited. He waited for hours, his ribs crying out in agony from being pressed against the hard floor. He'd heard the back door open and shut long ago, so he knew the man had left, but he was too afraid to face what had just happened. If he stayed under the bed, if he didn't see her, Katie could still be alive. Some twisted form of Schrödinger's cat. He waited until he heard another door, heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs, his father's voice calling out to both of them. A long pause. Another scream, this one pained and grieving.
     His father found him weeping under the bed. He never touched Will again, other than to hit him.
     The police arrived to search the house. One of the K-9 dogs sat with Will in the kitchen, and Will wrapped his arms around it and didn't let go until they were done. It was the only solid thing for him to hold onto, and the softness of its fur was comforting. He'd always wanted a dog.
The dog nuzzled Will's neck and licked his fingers. Will became obsessed.
     In the blink of an eye, he'd become a young man, staring with hatred at the mugshot of his sister's killer. They found him shortly after Katie died, but Will hadn't forgotten; it had quickly become his second obsession. He'd boiled with contempt for this disgusting man, killing his innocent sister for no reason at all. Ruining his life. He began to dream about killing him, his vision bleeding over with red as he butchered the man with the same lack of remorse he'd shown Katie. It felt so good. His body bursting open and letting out all of the frustration that had boiled up for years. It felt like a release.
     Another blink. His first crime scene. Having to turn away. He couldn't go back to that moment under the bed. Jack Crawford had to chase after him.
     He got better and better at it, as time went on. He got better at seeing the violent crime scenes and not immediately thinking of his sister. He put himself in the shoes of the most evil people, letting their minds become one with his. He reveled in the satisfaction, the glee that killing brought them. It felt like a release.
     Blink. Inside Hobbs's cabin. Hobbs stood over a young girl, a girl with Katie's face. She watched him with horrified eyes, bracing herself for what he'd do. Will lunged, grabbing Hobbs by the sides of the head and jerking until he heard the popping of bones. When he fell to the ground, Will didn't leave him there; he kicked the body, yanked and twisted the limbs until they were bent in unnatural ways, stomped on the head until Hobbs was unrecognizable. Everything else melted away as the anger took over, blood coating his body. He was light, free, strong. It felt like a release.
     Katie slowly stood back up, but before she could say a word she disintegrated, her body rotting away as she collapsed to the ground. She sounded like tree bark, her skin weak paper. She didn't scream, but Will felt the ghost of her fingers wrapping around his wrist. Her hand taking his. Thanking him. He smiled.
     It felt like a release.  
     And then he jolted awake, startling the dogs around him. One of them whined, which made Will's heart pang. He wanted to reassure them that he was alright, but that wouldn't be true. Those were all times of his life that he'd yearned to forget, and now they'd been projected for him like a movie. It was a grim reminder that he'd done absolutely nothing for himself. He was worthless. He was violent and grim and capable of unspeakable things, and he hated himself for it.
     But he could do one good thing: he could catch Garrett Jacob Hobbs.
     He could get the monster into cuffs and show the world who he really was. He could be the hero of the story for once. Jack would respect him. The FBI would respect him. He could finally feel like he'd accomplished something, and more importantly, he could learn to be proud of himself for once.
     Yes. Pretend to save Hobbs from his supposed kidnapper, pretend to believe his whole pitiful story, and cuff him when his back was turned. He could call the Minnesota police shortly before he got there to make sure he had backup. It was a simple plan, and hopefully it would be lucrative; if it wasn't, he could land himself in some major trouble. But he was already was in major trouble— that DNA from Elliot's barn would put a massive target on his back. He had no other way to restore his reputation.
     It was a long drive: basically twenty four hours. He could handle it, though. It was worth it because it had to be worth it. This had to work.
     Of course, it would be incredibly dangerous. There was a small chance he wouldn't come back.
     He hugged Smoothie close to him and rubbed her neck, letting her lick his face, because he wasn't sure when he'd be able to do it again.