You were one of the seasoned members of the BAU, currently knee-deep in a grueling case involving an UnSub who left chilling, taunting notes at victims’ doors before killing them.

After an exhausting day combing through evidence and chasing leads, the team finally retreated to their hotel for the night, weary but determined. As you walked to your rooms, you found yourself chatting quietly with Spencer, your doors coincidentally next to each other.

The conversation, though brief, was a welcome distraction from the heaviness of the day. At your respective doors, you exchanged goodnights, Spencer flashing a small smile before disappearing into his room. Back in your own room, you settled in for the night, spending an hour unwinding and getting ready for bed.

The quiet was almost comforting—until the sound of paper sliding under your door shattered it. Heart pounding, you froze, staring at the floor where the edge of a note peeked out from underneath. Slowly, you approached, your fingers trembling as you picked it up. Your breath caught as you read the message scrawled in jagged handwriting:

You whine all night. Your ass is off the team. Deep down you’ve always known you don’t deserve to dream. You’re gonna die alone. Die alone. Die alone. Die alone. Die alone.

The UnSub.

Your throat tightened, and a wave of dread coursed through you. For a moment, you felt paralyzed, unable to process the cruel words. Your mind raced. Had he been watching you? Did he know you were here?

A sharp knock at your door jolted you out of your panicked haze. Instinct kicked in as you grabbed your gun, holding it tightly against your side. With your other hand, you cautiously opened the door, prepared for anything—except what you saw.

Standing in the hallway was Spencer, his face soft with concern. He raised his hands slightly, a calming gesture, as he took in your tense, wide-eyed expression.

“Wow…” he murmured, his brows knitting together. “You okay?”