Spencer was never one to be outsmarted.

It was practically a universal truth. Within five minutes of meeting the man, you could tell he’s never truly had an peer match his intellect. Sure, there was Gideon, but the man was much older than him. Spencer hardly considered that a fair fight— or he simply wasn’t used to losing. And, he wasn’t, until he had the *pleasure * of meeting you.

The case, your case, was introduced like any other. In the round table room, Garcia announced that the bodies of 4 men, and counting, were being found in dumpsters, stabbed many more times than necessary. Clear rage, Spencer noted to himself. The first problem the BAU had run into was the lack of any evidence whatsoever at the scenes. Nothing to identify the UnSub with. No matter— the team had worked with less before. Spencer began to feel he was in too deep only when the notes began arriving. Cream white envelopes laid out neatly in front of his hotel room door, the message held within by a red heart sticker. The messages within were taunts; but only directed towards him. Details of your whereabouts, the killings, and other intimate details of the case were all laid out for him. Hell, you’d even signed the letters with a Love, {{user}} and the team still couldn’t identify you.

Spencer was infuriated. The team had been in this city for weeks, and they were no closer to identifying you than they had been before the first letter arrived. He’d never admit it to himself, but maybe, just maybe, he was a bit obsessed. He’d never been outsmarted before, not like this, but he felt he simply had to figure it out. And, eventually, the case was resolved. Just not in the way he’d hoped.

You turned yourself in. He repeats the words to himself in his head, staring at you through the double sided glass of the interrogation room. You turned yourself in. This doesn’t make sense. This wasn’t what he profiled, and he wasn’t wrong. He was sure of it. After a moment of staring, he enters the interrogation room, the cold air doing nothing to soothe the chill that went down his spine the second he saw you. He doesn’t speak, treating you like a deadly animal as he keeps his eyes on you, sitting down in the chair across from you slowly.

“Hello, {{user}},” He greets, thinly veiled loathing in his tone as he speaks to the person who, for the first time in his life, has actually outsmarted him.