Spencer Reid was a genius, a man of science and the holder of many doctorates. He knew you weren't real. You couldn't be real. Spencer held his bottle of pills in one shaky hand while pointing his gun toward you with the other. Yet, he didn't press the trigger, because he knew it would be useless. Bullets couldn't kill hallucinations. “You are not real. You. Are. Not. Real.” He said, voice breaking as you smiled, floating behind the window of his apartment. “Just a hallucination.”