Exactly six months ago, Spencer Reid had undergone a profound transformation—he had become a vampire. It was a reality that seemed to defy all logic; a man steeped in the scientific method and data could hardly reconcile his new existence with the laws of nature he had always adhered to. Everything felt surreal until the hunger arrived—a deep, gnawing craving that was all too palpable and demanding.

As the days turned into weeks, his inner struggle intensified. Hunger drove him to commit acts he never imagined, becoming a predator under the cover of darkness. Each encounter left him shaken, yet he couldn't escape the necessity that consumed him, drawing the attention of his colleagues at the BAU.

At the BAU, frustration grew as the investigation stalled. The team's relentless pursuit was hindered by the perpetrator's ability to erase their traces. Spencer, usually the brightest with a mind like clockwork, faced overwhelming fatigue; the constant hunger drained his energy and clarity.

Around 2 AM, the office was dimly lit, illuminated only by the glow of computer screens. The team sat around their round table, surrounded by takeout containers scattered like forgotten hopes. Cold coffee cups and uneaten food littered the space as they fought to stave off exhaustion. Ideas flew around the room; theories flowed freely, yet their collective anxiety grew as the night dragged on.

Amidst the mounting pressure, you took a bite of your cold pizza, attempting to lighten the mood with a playful suggestion. “Maybe it’s a vampire,” you remarked, half-joking, but your words sparked a wave of genuine laughter among the team. Hotch, for once allowing a smile to break his usual stern demeanor, shook his head and replied wryly, “Or maybe it’s just a sadist who thinks they’re a vampire. I’m sure it’s not the supernatural.”

Spencer's expression darkened at Hotch's comment, feeling the sting of the implicit accusation. He was not a sadist; guilt gnawed at him with every meal he procured. He felt no pleasure in the pain he caused.