And just like that, Winchester decapitates the other unsub.
Spencer has seen death. He's shot an LDSK in the head when he had no other option. He's seen bodies stacked on top of each other, rotting in the ground, mutilated beyond recognition. He's seen unsubs killed, by their own hand or by law enforcement.
Those two decapitations are possibly the most gory active violence he's seen. Spencer has to fight hard not to gag, and all Winchester does is mutter a little ew like he just touched wet bread, or stood on a spider. Spencer's lucky that most of the gore didn't hit him, but he can feel blood from the headshot drying on his cheek. Winchester hurries toward him with a piece of torn flannel to press against his arm, and while Spencer shrinks back, he clamps the cloth to his forearm nonetheless.
He manages to pull himself up to sit while Winchester checks the rest of the room. Vampires. That's what Winchester said they were. And while everything in Spencer wants to scoff and call him crazy, he's just seen the evidence for himself. Men with mouths full of fangs, men who took a headshot and didn't die, men whose skin burned in the sun. The victims lacking blood. It all adds up. But in front of him is a man who has one of the longest list of suspected and confirmed crimes in American history, everything from grave robbing to armed burglary to mass murder.
Those men (Spencer still can't call them vampires, even in his own mind) had killed ten suspected victims. Sam and Dean Winchester are suspected of hundreds. Sam's clearly trying to enlist his help.
Spencer stands, and levels his gun at Winchester.
"Put the machete down," he barks. Or at least, he aims for the authoritative bark that Hotch does so well, and winds up somewhere squarely in the realm of stern, but pretty shaky. He doesn't exactly cut the intimidating figure most of his team does. "I'm Special Agent Doctor Reid, FBI. Sam Winchester, you're wanted in multiple states for over a dozen crimes." Including the two men he's just killed right now. "Put the machete down, and turn around, put your hands behind your back."
no subject
Spencer has seen death. He's shot an LDSK in the head when he had no other option. He's seen bodies stacked on top of each other, rotting in the ground, mutilated beyond recognition. He's seen unsubs killed, by their own hand or by law enforcement.
Those two decapitations are possibly the most gory active violence he's seen. Spencer has to fight hard not to gag, and all Winchester does is mutter a little ew like he just touched wet bread, or stood on a spider. Spencer's lucky that most of the gore didn't hit him, but he can feel blood from the headshot drying on his cheek. Winchester hurries toward him with a piece of torn flannel to press against his arm, and while Spencer shrinks back, he clamps the cloth to his forearm nonetheless.
He manages to pull himself up to sit while Winchester checks the rest of the room. Vampires. That's what Winchester said they were. And while everything in Spencer wants to scoff and call him crazy, he's just seen the evidence for himself. Men with mouths full of fangs, men who took a headshot and didn't die, men whose skin burned in the sun. The victims lacking blood. It all adds up. But in front of him is a man who has one of the longest list of suspected and confirmed crimes in American history, everything from grave robbing to armed burglary to mass murder.
Those men (Spencer still can't call them vampires, even in his own mind) had killed ten suspected victims. Sam and Dean Winchester are suspected of hundreds. Sam's clearly trying to enlist his help.
Spencer stands, and levels his gun at Winchester.
"Put the machete down," he barks. Or at least, he aims for the authoritative bark that Hotch does so well, and winds up somewhere squarely in the realm of stern, but pretty shaky. He doesn't exactly cut the intimidating figure most of his team does. "I'm Special Agent Doctor Reid, FBI. Sam Winchester, you're wanted in multiple states for over a dozen crimes." Including the two men he's just killed right now. "Put the machete down, and turn around, put your hands behind your back."