FBI_Equine_-Now I know it's not exactly what you asked for but I figured you might like it all the same. Hopefully haha

FYI- this is gonna be more on the dark side, nothing worse than what you would hear in a normal episode of this show, but just wanted to give you a heads up

You kept your hand clamped down on the mouth of the young girl who's sacred eyes gazed wide and frightened back at you. You shook your head slowly as you flickered your eyes up at the creaking slats above you as footsteps paced about. The shallow basement made it hard to do much of anything without being heard.

Especially making escape plans.

The footsteps wondered off, followed by the sound of a fridge opening and the clanking of bottles. You closed your eyes and slowly let out a breath, knowing full well he would be out of commission for the rest of the night.

The beatings won't happen tonight.

Slowly, you let your hand drop from her mouth, your eyes flickering to the two other girls sleeping on straw stuffed sheets, their ankles chained to the cement ground. You lifted your hand to your mouth, making the "eating" sign, your brows raised in question.

The girl nodded, her hair falling into her face. You then signed "drink".

Again, she nodded.

You gave her a look, pointing to her, doing the same signs. Eat and drink.

She was about to nod but you immediately placed your finger on your mouth and then pushed it off, pointing at her. Truth.

Her shoulders deflated and she shook her head. Then ever so carefully, she lifted a corner of her straw bed to reveal a dug out hole where a bit of food and a cup of mirky water was hidden. Your heart ached as your hands dropped, your eyes closing.

She was trying to save up for the two other girls.

As much as you wanted to stay and help them, you had to go. The "Master", Sep, was allowing you to go to the store to get supplies and medicine. Not only were the two girls down here sick, but your best friend and "roommate" was deathly ill. Becky had nearly been here as long as you had and it took everything in the book to get Sep to agree to let you go.

Literally everything.

You had hoped being his "slave" for three years would have counted for something. But you were wrong.

However, having finally found time to check on the girls you knew he had in the basement, you had a sudden change of plans. It took you one day to figure out a plan and a heartwrenching ten minutes of hiding from Sep as he came home early from whatever it was he did during the day. Thankfully, you were able to get most of the plan to the one girl who wasn't sick before he drank himself into oblivion.

You didn't know their names but form the looks of them they were about seventeen to twenty years old. Not much younger than yourself. The one you were talking to was deaf and with your limited knowledge of ASL (American Sign Language), you were able to tell her a very choppy and limited version of your plan. But you were confident she understood.

She was very frightened and for good reason. All the more reason you had to hurry.

You reached down and took the food out of the hole and gave them to the girl. You looked at her with earnest, all while telling her to "eat" and "drink". She reluctantly partook but partook all the same.

Satisfied that she would finish nourishing herself, you slowly got up and headed out the door. But not before looking at the girl and giving her a small smile and signed.

I will keep you safe.

The girl nodded, giving you a sad smile in return before laying down to get some much-needed sleep. You left the basement and peeked into the living room.

There, on the broken and peeling couch, Sep was knocked out and snoring like the beast he was. Four bottles littered the couch and ground around him, his fifth slipping from his fingers. Softly, you took it from his hand, placing it on the coffee table. The crash alone would wake Becky from her already fitful sleep. You stared at the man that had caused you and these other girls so much pain and heartache.

You reached out as if to hit him. But instead, you stroked hair from his face, your hands shaking with enmity, your voice low as you spoke.

"Enjoy this life while you still can."

Then you left, the bulky tracker on your wrist hidden in your jacket sleeve as you made your way in the direction of the store, not at all intending to buy anything. Not just yet. Instead, you would make it look like you were.

The tracker on your arm had to go. But with it was all but soldered into your bone, it was near impossible to get off. Unless you had something thin and sharp. There was a home you passed when walking to the gas station and it was surrounded by a tall, black iron, barred gate. With pointed tips.

You weren't sure if it would work since the last time you had been outside was over six months ago, but you were positive the ends were narrow enough to fit between your skinny wrist and the tracker, strong enough to use as leverage to pry it off.

You rounded a corner and came upon it, the dark metal shining in the yellow street lamp light. You took a deep breath and shrugged off the light jacket you had on only to stuff one sleeve in your mouth. It had three horizontal bars that went across the bottom, not high enough to get someone over the top but high enough for you to step on to reach the spear-like tips.

You stepped up on the third bar and reached up, satisfied to see the top of the gate came to your chest. You rotated your tracker to make the clasped end on the inside of your wrist. You then reached your arm up and exposed your wrist with the tracker, bringing it down gently on the pointed tip. The cold metal made you shiver as you wedged it between them, making sure it was a snug fit.

Then you looked down at how far you were from the ground. This was the best plan you had in mind for this and you were willing to take any risk involved. You faced forward, closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and bit down harder on the jacket.

Then without thinking any more about it, you jumped back and off the gate, pushing down on your wrist. There was a solid CRACK and an POP, your muffled screams filling your ears. But you stopped when you heard a thunk next to you. You looked down through teary eyes to see your tracker lying on the ground by your feet, your arm hanging limply at your side, blood slowly dripping down your numb fingertips.

You took a shaky breath and slipping on your jacket carefully then picked up the tracker. You hurried and left the tracker at the doors of the 7/11, doing your best to ignore the pain.

But that soon became easier as you then made your way to the police station just a few more blocks down, your bad arm held against your chest with your good arm, your tears of pain turning into tears of realized freedom. Not for you, but for the girls if everything else went according to plan.

~~~~~~

Spencer was flipping through some old files and placing them in his satchel when the door to the conference room he was in was suddenly thrown open making him turn, nearly dropping his flies.

It was a younger officer, his face pinched in worry. "Sorry Dr. Reid, but I was sent to retrieve you right away."

"Is everything alright?" Spener dropped his things and quickly followed him out of the room.

The man shrugged. "A woman just arrived and asked for help. She saw the FBI vests and provided a convincing story to have us grab you guys before you left."

"Do you mind telling me what she said?" Spener had a feeling they were going to be here for a little while longer.

"I'll let her tell you."

The officer showed him to a small office where a young woman was seated, one arm on the desk in front of her, the other laying limp at her side. Emily, JJ, and Rossi were already there, Luke coming in close behind Spencer. Spencer looked around at the others, both relieved the worried at the confused looks on their faces, portraying exactly how he felt.

Emily took a step forward, her voice gentle as she spoke. "My name is Emily Prentiss. What is your name?"

The woman looked around, her gaze lingering on Spencer before she spoke. "(Y/n) (L/n). Please, I know I'm not doing this the right way but I need your help."

Tears were in her eyes before she could stop them. Spencer stepped forward and took a seat across from her. "My name is Spencer Reid. What happened to your arm?" He nodded to the limp arm beside her, the small drips of blood all but thundering through the small office.

You shook your head, blinking back tears. "That's not important. I shouldn't even be here. He will hurt them." Tears were falling freely now, the fact you were here and actually talking to people who could help, and they were the FBI no less, you couldn't think clearly. "I-I need you to save them. Please."

Rossi stepped forward now. "Slow down. Take a deep breath. You are safe with us here."

"Yes, but they aren't!" You lifted your good hand and pointed out to the direction you came from. "There are four girls trapped in a house, three of them sick, the fourth one is deaf. I was only able to come here because he let me go and get medicine. He might have woken up by now and is wondering where I am. My tracker will only fool him for so long."

Spencer pinched his eyebrows and leaned forward some more. "Who is "he"?"

You shook your head and sniffed. "The man holding us captive. The man who's bidding I have had to do for the past three years. The man who now has three new girls he plans to sell off next week." You took a deep, shaking breath. "I-I-I need you to get them. Now."

Spencer looked around at the others. "Go on and get the girls. I will stay here and speak with her. I think the audience isn't helping."

Emily nodded. "Do you have an address?"

You quickly recited it followed by the crew filing out. JJ paused at the door and looked between the two of you, her eyes kind.

"Don't hesitate to ask for anything else. You are safe."

You shook your head. "Just make them safe. I want to see them safe."

JJ nodded then left, leaving the door open. You let out a relieved breath, your eyes closing. But not for long, every fiber of your being very much aware of the handsome man in front of you. But you knew all too well that looks could be deceiving. You let out a slow breath through your nose as you looked at him, hoping your eye contact would convey your honesty. Your mind was slowly starting to sort itself out.

Spencer cleared his throat and licked his lips before he spoke. "I need to know what has happened. But you are in pain. Let me help you with your arm." Spencer stood and walked around the table to your injured arm.

You looked down at it as it refused to move. You looked at him again, your anxiety returning making your chest rise and fall quickly. Spencer took a large step back, placing his hands behind his back.

"I promise I won't hurt you. It just looks like your shoulder is out of its socket."

You looked at your arm again then back at him. "You know how to pop a shoulder back in?"

Spencer didn't respond right away but gave you a small nod. "I have seen it done before."

You looked down at your lap and squeezed your eyes shut as you spoke. "I should probably tell you that I most likely broke my wrist. It was the only way to get the tracker off." You opened your eyes and glanced at his feet. "I know it's going to hurt when you fix it."

Spencer's eyes widened as he took his seat again. "So you want me to wait?"

"Please. I don't know how long I have until my mind throws me into another fit of hysterics."

"Start wherever you are comfortable."

You looked up at Spencer and gave him a sad smile. "Then I'd rather not say anything at all then." You shook your head and lifted your limp arm and placed it on the table with a slight groan. "Sep, that's all I know him by, he had been going to the coffee shop I worked at during school for at least two years. We became friendly and would talk frequently. I should have found it odd he knew when my shift ended, seeing as how I changed shifts every semester to accommodate my classes. He knew a lot about me really quickly and knew how to talk to me to make me feel comfortable. Had he not tricked me into thinking I was helping him make a Sunday dinner with for his mom, who is dead by the way, and walk into his trap to keep me imprisoned for the next three years, I would have fancied myself in love with him."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, picking at something on your sleeve. "I was with him for six months, just starting to cope with my situation when he loured in Becky. She didn't come to terms with her new "home" as well as I did and needed constant help from me. Sep wouldn't get rid of her because she was the "best performer I've had in a while" he said. He'd drug her up and leave me to clean up the mess afterward." You closed your eyes and shook your head. "She and I were constants and never left. We were never sold."

Spencer leaned forward, his brows pinched. "But there were others."

You nodded, letting a few tears fall as you spoke. "I never saw them but I always heard them. Younger girls came in and out, no doubt to be sold and used somewhere else. He used his house like some kind of holding between transfers. For three years I just listened and cowered. I was too scared and selfish to help any of them."

Spencer shook his head. "Hey, hey, don't do that. You had no control over the situation."

You sniffed and looked up at him. "Until now." You sat up and wiped the tears from your eyes, squaring your shoulders. "Becky got sick first. She had been sick before but not like this, not where it made Sep mad and violent. He got drunk one night and had me...perform for him, leaving me to listen to his venting and rambling. He spoke of three girls he was holding and two of them were sick, blaming it on Becky. I waited a few days before searching the large house, little by little until I found them in a makeshift basement. Sure enough, two were sick, just like Becky. But the third, the youngest, she was deaf and I don't' think he knows that, even now."

Spencer nodded, his mind working wildly. "The address you gave us isn't far from here."

"Most predators are close enough to spit on. They just happen to be really good at hiding it. And people don't happen to know what to look for. Plus I didn't think he planned on me knowing how to take off a tracker bracelet and still have the clarity of mind to run for help. He may have Becky trained and drugged, but he trusted me and I quickly learned that keeping that trust saved my life. Now I hope it has saved theirs."

Spencer opened his mouth to say something but his phone went off. You both stood as Spencer took it out and answered it.

"Did you find them?"

Emily's voice came over the speaker as Spencer placed it on the table. "Yes. We found the house. Almost missed it. We found three girls, all of them sick. No sign of the man or the deaf girl."

You didn't notice you were standing close to Spencer until your knees buckled and he caught you easily, holding you against him as you pressed a hand to your mouth, stifling a sob.

Spencer gently helped you into a seat but kept a hand on yours as you closed your eyes and leaned against his leg. "Emily, is there any lead on them?"

"Sorry Reid, we couldn't find anything. Tell our friend there that the sick girls are headed to the hospital as we speak. They will be alright."

"Thanks, Emily. We will meet you at the hospital and go from there." Spencer ended the call and pocketed his phone.

You closed your eyes harder and let tears run down your cheeks as you tried to level your breathing. Spencer knelt down next to you his hand on your shoulder and his voice gentle.

"May I hold you?"

You opened your eyes and suddenly a new and utterly surprising feeling washed over your body as you focused on Spencer's brown eyes. You found in his gaze the same security and warmth that you felt at his words. He was genuine and had no malicious intentions. So you nodded, ever so slowly, leaning into him as he gently wrapped his arms around you. He took care of your injured arm but held you close.

"We will find her, I promise. That's what we are good at."

"You can't mean that," you mumbled into his shirt.

"Yes, I do. And with you to help us, we won't rest until she's with you again."

You closed your eyes and sniffed, nodding into his shoulder.

"Thank you," you whispered, "thank you."

Spencer pulled away slightly, looking at you as he pushed back some matted hair from your face. "Let's get you to the hospital and have your arm taken care of."

You nodded again, standing with him. But he didn't leave your side, nor did you want him to. For the first time in over three years, you felt safe, and with a man no less. You just hoped the deaf girl will get to be just as lucky.

Sorry, it's long but...uh...you want a part two?