𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄- 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐃. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, either. His whole life, he had been a logical person. He threw himself into academia because he'd hoped it would give him some kind of fulfillment, but all these years, it had always felt like despite all of that, there was still something missing. He attempted to fill it with doctorates and bachelor's degrees, but it felt like there was still this gaping hole in his chest. 

Perhaps it was because in all his years, Spencer Reid knew everything- except what it was like to be cared for. His father had left when he was so young, and his mother could barely take care of herself- let alone him. He'd gone out with a few women over the years, but no matter what he did, that hole remained, and he was constantly aware of its presence in the same way that he was aware of his own heartbeat, or his own breathing. Around the time when he'd joined the BAU, Spencer tried to fill that hole with drugs, hoping that the Dilaudid would make him feel whole again. It was nothing compared to a mother's love, or a father's praise, but it was something. For a while, it had worked. But then the second that the high went away, he was left with the remnants of it all. 

When that eventually happened, he started taking more. And more. But that was the part of Spencer that everyone chose to ignore. He had shown up to work high almost every single day, and they had turned a blind eye. At the time, Spencer was grateful for it, because he couldn't bear to lose the one thing that had made him feel whole after years of feeling nothing. This job that he had had taken everything from him. 

Sometimes Spencer wondered what he'd even been doing in the FBI at all. Yes, they helped someone, but it felt like with every monster that they took down, there were five that would pop up in their place. Sometimes he wondered if he was one of the monsters as well. The first time he'd killed a man, Spencer felt nothing at all. He'd thought he'd feel remorse or guilt, but that wasn't the case. All Spencer had thought was that if he had the chance to do it again, he would. It was a horrifying thing to learn. 

These feelings stemmed from years of self-loathing and resentment, and along with that came a more troubling realization: was the line between monster and hero really that clear? Spencer had always thought that there was good and evil, and he thought that everything was black and white. Frederich Nietzsche argued that those who fight monsters must take care to not become monsters themselves. Every choice he made in the field, every life he ever took brought him closer to that abyss. Because he could never forget. The problem with an eidetic memory is that Spencer can recall almost every single piece of literature he's ever read, but he also can't forget the faces of every life he took, or every life he failed to save. 

There was a concept defining the banality of evil, where Hannah Arendt proposed that evil deeds could be committed by normal people, not out of malice, but through a sense of duty. Sometimes, he thought of the people who they caught, and Spencer found himself sympathizing with them. Perhaps he was no better than some of the unsubs they took down on a daily basis. 

Spencer set the file down on the round table, running a hand down his face. He was exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted. He'd been stretching himself thin for weeks, and they had made no progress at all. They didn't even have any leads on their cases, and it felt like they were both growing colder by the minute. 

"Initially, it looked like overkill. But the stab wounds inflicted are shallow and not lethal, so he's most likely doing it while he rapes the girls. It's all apart of the high he gets," Rossi explained, causing Reid to glance up from the map he'd zoned out while examining. They had thought this case was closed last week, until another two bodies were dropped within three days, and they knew that they had the wrong guy- or a teammate.