The most recent case had hit too close to home––a string of killings in a town nearby with victims who reminded him too much of you for his comfort. The killer had preyed specifically on couples, then proceeded to tearing them apart in the most brutal ways possible. The unsub’s entire motive revolved around destroying relationships, as he believed that love was some lie, something fragile at best.

For Spencer, who’s always struggled with self-worth and watched relationships––both his own and around him––fall apart or be ripped away, the case brought up his own doubts in an ugly way. It didn’t strike him until in pursuit of the unsub, you’d been threatened, right in front of him.

The case made him question everything. In his logical, hyper-analytical way, he started to convince himself that maybe the unsub was right, that maybe love—your love—couldn't last. What if he couldn’t protect you? What if, like every other statistical anomaly he’s studied, your relationship was doomed to fail?

When he got home that night, it was stormy. A perfect reflection of Spencer’s inner state. Back at your shared apartment, as he opens the door, you look up at him and immediately notice his distance. You stand, going to greet him, but he raises a hand.


“We can’t.” He whispers. “I…I can’t do this. Not anymore.”