Not So Sweet Home

Chapter 9- The Banshee

                                              Chapter 9- The Banshee

The team was heading back to the interrogation room, when Emily pulled Stiles aside. Morgan, Rossi, JJ and Hotch didn't notice and continued on, leaving Emily and Stiles alone.

"What's up," Stiles asked her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"You have a girlfriend. I've literally been trying to set you for months."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, I saw you. I forgot my jacket and when I came back for it, I saw you two."

"I... I" Stiles stuttered.

"Jesus, don't worry. I won't tell them."

Relief flooded across his face. "Thank you."

"Now let's go."

Stiles and Emily made their way to the back of the station. The door to the interrogation room was open with Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan all crammed inside. JJ stood just outside the door, taking in the situation. When Stiles took a glance at the table, Lydia was sitting there with the notebook she was drawing in earlier in front of her. She was quickly scribbling something onto the paper, but wasn't paying attention to what she was doing. Her green eyes were glossed over as she stared through the wall in front of her.

"What is she doing?" Hotch asked.

"I don't know," Morgan replied as he reached his hand out to shake her out of whatever state she was in.

"Oh Shit!" Stiles exclaimed, before he ran into the room.

"What?!" JJ stammered, as Stiles pushed past her.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Stiles yelled out to the other member of his team.

Morgan pulled his arm back out of surprise. "Why?" he asked.

"Get out!"

"Stiles!" Hotch retaliated.

"Just get out."

Rossi grabbed Hotch by the arm and led him out of the room. Morgan followed his lead and walked out, closing the door behind him. When the door was closed, Stiles went and took the seat across the table from Lydia. He just sat and watched as she scribbled in her notebook.

Outside the door Morgan asked, "What's got him all wound up?"

Emily tried to keep a straight face as she said, "I have no idea," but a smile slipped onto her lips anyway.

"Emily," Hotch demanded, "If you know something you have to tell us."

"I promised him I wouldn't tell you guys."

"Emily!" JJ scolded.

"He's already hiding everything from us. We don't need you doing it for him," Morgan added.

"Fine. Lydia Martin is his girlfriend. I have no idea why he's freaking out about what is happening right now, but if I were him, I'd be pretty mad at how Hotch and Rossi hounded her."

Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan were all stunned speechless.

"You were pretty hard on her, especially considering her past," JJ agreed.

Before they had time to respond or even process Emily's revelation they heard a loud "Shit!" from the other side of the one way glass. They all looked into the other room to see that Stiles wasn't sitting anymore. He was standing over Lydia's shoulder examining what she had written.

Lydia was now fully aware and they could hear her say "Whose that?"

Stiles left her side and came to open the door. "Um... I think we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Hotch asked worryingly.

Stiles returned to the table and grabbed the notebook. "I know I'm asking a lot from this, but trust me. Spencer is missing and is going to die if we don't find him," he explained. He showed his team the open page of the notebook where one word was written over and over again forming the shape of a sword, 'Reid'.

"What the hell is this," JJ asked, "and what does it have to do with Spencer."

Stiles turned to Hotch and Rossi. "You looked into her history, how many bodies has she found?"

Morgan turned his attention to Hotch, "How many?"

"Too many to count," Hotch replied after a moment.

"I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you this. If we don't find Spencer, he will die, and we won't be the ones to find his body. She will."

                                                                 ***

Spencer forced his eyes to open. His eyelids felt heavy and his shoulders ached. He slowly came to and his vision cleared. He was hanging by his wrists from a rope. In front of him stood a young teenage girl with dark brown hair and light brown eyes. She had on the gloves of an archer and a purple shirt that was blood stained in the center, where a linear slice was in her stomach. It looked like they were in a basement of some kind. The walls were the dark grey of concrete, and they were surrounded by shelves of odd objects.

"Are you okay?" Spencer croaked out.

"Do you like riddles," the girl responded. "I like riddles. What is always in front of you, but you can't see?"

"The Future," Reid quickly responded.

"Good. You got one right. What can't talk, but will reply when spoken to?"

"An Echo."

The girl seemed slightly frustrated at his quick response but continued to ask, "The more of this there is, the less you see, What is it?"

"Darkness. What do you want?"

"Let's try something harder then," she responded, visibly angry. "I turn once, what is out will not get in. I turn again, what is in will not get out. What am I?"

Spencer thought for a second before replying with, "A key. Is this a game to you?"

"What does man love more than life, hate more than death or mortal strife; that which contented men desire; the poor have, the rich require; the miser spends, the spendthrift saves, and all men carry to their graves?"

"Nothing. Are you done yet?"

"No!" She hissed at him. "Let's see if you can answer the one he couldn't. When is a door not a door?"

"When it's ajar. Who is this he you are talking about? Your the last victim?"

"No! Him. Sstiless."