A/N: When I first got the request for this fic I nearly started jumping with joy because I fell in love with the idea. (grins) I just couldn't stop myself from diving right in. I really hope that the final product turns out alright! (gulps nervously)

DISCLAIMER: Oh, if only… But nope, no profit is made out of typing this and I own absolutely nothing of the series except for the DVD-collections I've bought. And to anyone wondering… Despite my immense adoration towards 'Sherlock', this Spider of this story isn't Moriarty. (chuckles)

WARNINGS: Gore, whump, violence… Adult themes. Language. Uh, anyone still out there…?

Alright, because starting out a new story is always nerve wrecking… Let's go! I truly hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

The Spider

A Spider's Bite

In general Dr. Spencer Reid loved his job, despite all the horrors he had to face. But sometimes he had a persistent bad feeling before they even started working on a case. That morning he most definitely had such when he marched into the very much familiar conference room.

Or maybe he was just tired. Nightmares kept him awake almost the entire night before and he didn't have the time to consume enough coffee before they were called in. All he wanted to do was to go back to sleep.

It didn't look like he was the only one who'd had a long night, though. Derek Morgan dragged himself into the office with exhausted eyes and heavy limbs. The man emitted a groan and rubbed his face roughly while slumping to a chair. Spencer couldn't stop a grin.

It was, however, David Rossi who spoke. "Well someone's been having fun. First date?"

"No", Aaron Hotchner corrected while entering the room with a mug of coffee. The unit chief's expression was his usual but there was a spark of mischief in the man's eyes. "Third."

David smirked. Even had the nerve to pat Derek on the shoulder. "Well how about that…! Is the bureau's most sworn bachelor settling down?"

Derek gave them a dry look. One corner of his lips twitched, though. "What happened to the 'not profiling each other' rule?"

"It's only a sign that we love you, sweetie", Penelope Garcia advised while arriving with a thick file. The look on her face made the room's mood drop significantly. She exhaled a shuddering breath while preparing the computer and herself. "So… We have a new case. Here in Virginia, actually. Four dead men, all murdered into their homes."

"Any connection?" Aaron asked instantly.

Penelope shook her head. "No obvious one so far." She showed them the first picture. A visibly athletic man with military style cut black hair and, presently, glazed over, dead brown eyes. "The first victim. Alex Brundy, thirty-five. Came back from his tour in Iraq two weeks ago and was murdered the following day. Unmarried." Another picture. This time a slightly smaller yet clearly physically fit man with slightly overgrown blond hair and lifeless greyish blue eyes. "Walter Burrows, forty-one. High school physics teacher. Married with two children." The third victim was larger than the other two and it was easy to see that he'd put up a mighty fight for his life. Still the mocha skinned, bald man lay on the floor dead. "Ian Nichols, thirty-eight. Security guard. Engaged." The fourth man looked like he'd fought as well. There was blood staining his brown hair and notably tall frame. Yet his green eyes were as devoid of life as the others'. "Charles Ollen. As far as I could gather he worked as a consultant for the police but there was a lot in his history that I didn't have the authorization to take a look at."

Derek shook his head with a frown of confusion. "They were all in a incredibly good shape. How did one man take them down?"

While the others focused on a new, dawning case all Spencer could do was stare. Barely breathing. Feeling like he'd been falling from somewhere incredibly high without a safety net. Because his mind carried him to the past.

He'd seen all of this before. The little signs the rest of his team was only just discovering. Those victims. Possibly even the killer.

It can't be, he told himself. He's dead. You made sure of that yourself. Didn't he?

But the pictures didn't go anywhere. Nor did the horrible feeling tingling on his skin. This time he didn't wake up from the nightmare.

By the time he came back to himself the others had noticed something. "He's already developed his own signature." Penelope appeared more than a little nauseated but went on anyhow. "The killer… He removes their fingertips."

"That's not the only signature." David didn't seem any more pleased than she did while pointed towards the picture currently on display. "See that? Those two, tiny holes on the arm? There's similar on every victim."

Jennifer Jareau frowned. There was a degree of shock on her pale face. "What are those? Needle marks?"

The whole world spun in front of Spencer's eyes. It felt like his whole body had been on overdrive and shutting down at the same time. "A spider's bite", he breathed out.

"Spence?" There was a great deal of worry on JJ's face. "Are you okay? You look like you'd seen a ghost."

In some other situation Spencer might've snorted at the bitter irony. He gave a weak and thin smile that most definitely didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just… A little headache."

The rest of them didn't appear entirely convinced. But they had a case to focus on. Aaron took a deep breath before speaking. "This is a local case but may take a while to solve. Chief Rhyes from the local police will meet us in four hours for a further report. You have until then to catch your breaths and make all necessary preparations."

Dodging the worried looks darted his way Spencer fled as fast as he possibly could, determined to not answer another question. It was impossible to say if he was running towards or away from something. What he did know was how he'd spend his four hours.

Standing behind the tightly locked door of a high security mental institution Spencer felt unbearably cold while dread swell in every little bit of him. His anxiety wasn't caused by the sick, disturbed and dangerous minds locked inside, though. What worried him was a particular mind that might still linger outside.

In the end a large, dark skinned man wearing a guard's uniform came to escort him inside. They exchanged barely a word aside the man demanding to see his ID, which suited Spencer just fine. He wasn't exactly in the mood for talking.

The journey to the correct ward and the multiple security checks along the way seemed to take ages. Several times Spencer considered changing his mind. In the end he pushed himself through, reminding himself that he had to do this for the sake of his team.

Eventually Spencer was taken to a closet sized room that had a thick, transparent wall separating its two sides. He barely noticed the guard leaving him or the security camera hanging from the ceiling, monitoring his every move. All his focus locked on his companion.

On the other side of the glass, wearing a patient's outfit, sat a man in his late thirties with a pair of piercing blue eyes and shortcut brown hair. The patient could've easily been mistaken for a businessman. Spencer knew better.

He'd seen what those hands and the mind behind those eyes were capable of.

For a moment the man stared at him until recognition dawned. A ice cold smirk appeared. "Well, well… Look what the cat brought in." The prisoner leaned closer, tilting his head before speaking in a smooth voice that was thick with Irish accent. "I should feel insulted, really. All those years and not a single visit. You didn't even bother to send me a postcard."

Spencer's eyes narrowed while adrenaline took over, bringing back a person he'd imagined buried a lifetime ago. "Cut the crap, Napoleon", he growled. "You know why I'm here."

Napoleon's grin widened. Clearly the man was enjoying the situation immensely. "Well of course I do. For some reason the screws let me watch the news. I was wondering how long it'd take before you'd realize."

Spencer's heart stopped for a couple of seconds. Then stumbled back into motion in a way that hurt like hell. "He's still alive."

Napoleon rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously. Did you all imagine that it was really over?" The prisoner leaned so close that if it wasn't for the glass separating them they would've felt each other's breaths. Their eyes met and held. "He's back, Spencey. And he's very, very upset with you."

That was all the information Spencer needed. He got up, doing his best to hide the way his hands trembled. Somehow his face remained a well schooled, stony mask while he turned and began to leave, his heart thundering in his chest.

Just before he was out Napoleon spoke once more. "Good luck, Spencey. You'll need it. Don't let the spider bite."

The door slamming closed sounded far too much like a final verdict.

As soon as he made it to his car Spencer allowed all facades to drop. He buried his face into both hands, fighting furiously to get his breathing back under control. His blood was speeding on at such speed that the sound filled his ears and he had to fight furiously against throwing up.

No. No, no, NO. This couldn't be happening…

Yet it was and he had to prepare himself for the toughest battle of his entire life.

He was so deep in his chaotic thoughts that the sound of his cell phone startled him. He groaned upon discovering who the caller was. "So the micro chip is still functioning."

"What were you doing visiting Napoleon?"

Spencer gritted his teeth. Then spat out the words like they'd been poison. "He's alive."

"I know." The other went on before he got the chance to utter a word. "Come here immediately. We have a lot to talk about."

TBC

A/N: Oh boy… It's seems like we've got quite a monster coming out of hiding…

Sooo… Was that any good at all to you? Would you like to read more? In any case, thank you so much for reading!

Who knows, maybe we'll be crossing paths again…?

Take care!