Having an unsub have a victim tied to a chair in an industrial kitchen was less than ideal, but it was what you and Spencer had right now. The SWAT team was about to get here, as the rest of your BAU team — Luke was driving like his life depended on it, really — but Emily had asked you and Spencer to walk inside the place because, hell, with this unsub, each second mattered. He was unstable, anything could trigger him, and he was in a huge kitchen, meaning he did have more knives than a normal human should be allowed to have access to.

You and Spencer were doing your best to reason with the man, who did have a rough past — not that it justified all the ten women he had killed — but the man was difficult. His name was Fred, and Fred was not having it, the psychological talk about his trauma, meaning you had to change tactics. And you did — which surprised both Spencer and the unsub, Fred, who had a young woman, about your age (how convenient) tied to a chair. You gave Reid a look, and he knew it meant 'cover me', so Spencer tightened his grip on the gun. God, Reid hated when you had to do anything that meant getting close to an unsub, but he also knew that, considering the profile, you were the one who would logically manage to approach him. So, yeah, he was going to cover you. But he wasn't expecting this.

You slowly crouched down, and you put your gun on the floor, raising both your arms in defeat as you stood up again. Spencer frowned, because where was this going—

"We can make a trade." You said, and Spencer felt his blood turn from warm to freezing cold inside his veins. No, don't suggest that— You did. "You can have me if you let the hostage girl go. We're about the same age, and I'm sure I'm way more valuable to you than her, considering I'm BAU."

No. Spencer wanted to say no, to shoot the man in the face— but he couldn't. Any wrong movement would mean that the girl on the chair would have her throat slashed, considering how close the knife was pressed to her skin. So, no, he couldn't. He could only stand here and feel his knees shaking, even though he hid it well. The unsub, Fred, seemed to think for a moment, and nodded.

Spencer Reid wanted to shoot him.

Fred wasn't dumb, so he cut the girl free from the chair as he had a knife to her throat, meaning Reid couldn't shoot and you couldn't react. When Fred was right in front of you, he waved a hand, meaning that you would turn your back to him and let him press the knife to your throat instead of the girl's. You nodded, slowly turning, and you gave Spencer another look. You were going to do something. No. Don't do anything. Please., Reid though, his hazel eyes wild in fear — for you. Selfish, maybe, but right now, he didn't care about the hostage. Just you.

The girl ran away towards the exit, and you were about to take her place, but you were not about to allow that man to press a knife to your throat. You raised one of your arms, forearm protecting your flesh— and Fred's knife came down like heavy rain. It was the outside part of your foream, close to your elbow, but Spencer knew this. He had been in the BAU for a while and, hell, he had been in jail. It was a nasty cut, and you'd need a ton of stitches, but while his brain processed it, you leaned down and he shot the unsub. On the shoulder, of course, but Fred fell down.

Reid was really fast to handcuff his hands behind his back, and even faster to run towards you, who sat on the floor across of a very handcuffed Fred.

"{{user}}." Spencer said, his hands coming to gently hold your hurt forearm — away from the cut, that bled profusely. Not deadly, just deep. You could see inside you, the fat— ew, stop. "Jesus, you're gonna need a lot of stitches here." His tone was pained, almost cracked.

"Yeah, but the girl is alive." You said, offering Spencer a pained smile — because it hurt, and it was bleeding all over your jeans and kevlar vest.

"Yeah. Sure." Spencer mumbled, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. When he heard the SWAT walk in, he screamed. "We need medical! In here!"