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Before Hankel, Spencer had only gotten three bloody noses in his life.
The first one was from genuinely walking into a wall while reading a book. He was still young, and his mom was having a particularly lucid day, so they both laughed about it, before settling down on the queen bed to read. His dad wasn’t too happy about it, but he still smiled along.
His second bloody nose was from a stray kickball in PE. Even though he was eight years old in middle school, he still had to play with all of his other classmates. The only positive for that was that Jeremy Higgins had to sit out because headshots weren’t allowed.
The third time was during the Academy, when Spencer was trying his best to learn hand to hand. Gideon had promised him to get him signed off of most of the physical skills, but until then, Spencer still had to show up. The instructor, Benjamin Kearns was demonstrating how to bring someone to the ground in four steps. Spencer was partnered with the next smallest person, who was still a good thirty pounds heavier than him. He remembers his head being knocked to the side, and then his partner instantly apologizing.
It took him a second to even realize what was happening, until he brought his hand up to his face to see blood.
Miraculously, Spencer didn’t get any more bloody noses in the field when he joined the BAU. He supposes that’s mostly from the fact that he and JJ almost always stayed behind when it came to take downs.
His fourth bloody nose started, and ended, when he died.
The seizure that ended his life kickstarted a bloody nose, his brain in complete shambles. When his heart stopped beating, the blood flow stopped. When Spencer woke up, he didn’t even remember getting a bloody nose.
Unfortunately, that one is seared into the minds of his team, his family.
And then dilaudid happened. Each day would blend into the past, and not even Spencer’s eidetic memory could allow him to remember details from that time. Much to his disgust, he became an honest to God drug addict, pushing away his family until he finally made the decision to help himself.
Spencer’s fifth and sixth bloody noses occurred during withdrawals. When he called Hotch to tell him he has the flu, and Hotch stayed silent for a few moments before answering, “Let me know if you need help.” Three minutes after that, Spencer’s fifth bloody nose started, and lasted nearly thirty minutes.
Curled up in the bathtub, Spencer rode out his cramps, one hand clutching the edge of the tub and the other one holding his nose shut.
His sixth bloody noses started when he was attempting to trick his body into sleeping, two days later. Sweat and shivers wracked his body, and it took Spencer far too long to realize the liquid on his lip wasn’t sweat, it was blood. At least that bloody nose only lasted about twenty minutes.
His seventh bloody nose is in Gideon’s cabin.
Despite the damp forest he was in, Spencer’s dehydration is no match for his nose. He’s white-knuckled gripping Gideon’s note when the first drop of blood falls, narrowly missing the edge of the paper. The spot lands on his shoes, creating a mini explosion when it hits the rubber toe of his converse. Three more bits of blood drop until Spencer moves his hand to staunch the flow.
Spencer stays in the cabin for twenty minutes, holding his nose with his left hand until the blood stops. He knows that Gideon has a washcloth or towel somewhere, but he can’t bring himself to disrupt the scene in front of him. When he leaves, Spencer wipes his bloody hand on his pants, and drives away, unknowing of the next time he’ll see Gideon.
The eighth bloody nose that he gets is when he’s laughing with his friends in the bullpen. There hasn’t been a case for almost a week, and although that would usually be reason for anxiety, all of the younger agents are taking it as an invitation to finally breathe. Spencer is awkwardly attempting to show Emily how pen caps can be used to create fuel efficient rockets, albeit scaled down, when he suddenly gets a runny nose.
It takes him a second to realize that it’s not a runny nose.
Quickly, Spencer drops his pens, grabbing a fistfull of tissues from JJ’s side of their desks and holding it up to his face.
Emily looks at him with concern. “Hey, Reid, what happened?”
“Bloody nose,” Spencer grumbles, more annoyed than anything else.
“Are you okay?”
The younger agent just waves her off. “I’m fine. It’ll be over soon enough.”
Unfortunately, that catches Morgan’s attention, “Hey, pretty boy, what’d you do? Shoot a rocket at your face?”
“Hah, hah,” Spencer nasally drawls, but he can’t help a smile coming to his face. “And no, it just randomly started bleeding.”
Morgan shrugs. “Weird. I guess it has been pretty dry these past few days, huh?”
“Yeah,” Spencer quietly agrees, knowing full well that the humidity at Quantico hasn’t changed much throughout the past week. “Weird.”
By Spencer’s ninth bloody nose, he’s just pissed off. They’re not even a reason to worry- at least not at this point- they’re just simply obnoxious. They ruin his thought process, and distract everyone else.
The team is discussing the new case on the jet, when a drop of blood falls on his file, causing him to curse under his breath. Holding one hand to his nose, he looks up and asks, “Does someone have a tissue?”
“Spence, you alright?”
“Bloody nose,” He complains, accepting Rossi’s offered handkerchief. “Thanks.”
Hotch’s eyebrows knit together. “Did you hurt your head?”
Shaking his head, Spencer replies, “No. It just happened. Probably has to do something with the altitude.”
“Have you been having problems with bloody noses lately?” Hotch presses, setting his file down on the table.
“I’m fine,” Spencer insists, before turning his attention back to the case. “Has Grimes’ dumping site changed at all? Or is it confined to the parking lot?”
With one last sparing glance, Hotch sighs and answers the question. Thirty minutes later, Spencer awkwardly stuffs Rossi’s now bloody handkerchief in his pocket, with the promise to wash it and get it back to him.
The tenth bloody nose is only a few days later, but Spencer chalks that up to the environment genuinely being dry. They’re in Phoenix, Arizona, and the dry spell is hitting everyone.
Spencer’s barely surprised when he gets another bloody nose, given the fact that he seems to be suddenly predisposed to them. A box of tissues is set on the table, and Spencer continues working, wishing that he could have two hands to draw on the map.
Morgan and JJ send him worried looks, but they’re all too focused on Grimes’ next victim to worry about something as little as a bloody nose. Sure enough, not twenty minutes later, Spencer’s nose has begun clotting again.
For a few consecutive months, Spencer doesn’t get any bloody noses, and he begins to forget about it. Well. As much as a genius with an eidetic memory can forget about things. More importantly to Spencer, the team seems to have forgotten about his strange bloody noses, which despite the juxtaposition, calms Spencer.
But then, nearly four months after Phoenix, Spencer gets his eleventh bloody nose. It’s a Sunday afternoon, and for once, all of the BAU is in their respective homes. Even Hotch has taken a break from his slightly obsessive workaholic nature.
Spencer’s ready through a few books from Italian philosophers when he swears he can feel a bloody nose coming on. Sure enough, his nose begins to drip. The blood misses the book, and Spencer’s eternally grateful for that fact.
He quickly goes to the kitchen, grabbing a few paper towels to hold up to his face, before continuing his book. He changes the paper towels out as they get soaked, until the flow has been staunched to barely a drip.
He frowns at the amount of garbage he’s created, and wishes he paid attention to when it started. It seems like this bloody nose lasted longer than his usual ones. Shaking out the thought, Spencer goes back to his Italian.
He’ll deal with this later.
As it turns out, later comes quickly. That Wednesday, the whole team is gathered around the round table when he feels another bloody nose coming on. Luckily, a tissue box sits on the center of the table, so he doesn’t have to go anywhere.
Garcia stops her case info when she sees Spencer holding tissues to his face, which in turn causes the rest of the team to look at him.
Flushing red from embarrassment, Spencer quickly supplies, “I’m fine. Just a bloody nose. You can continue.”
Garcia glances at Hotch, but when he nods in agreement, she begrudgingly continues to tell the team about the falsely accused suspects. By the time they leave the round table, Spencer’s bloody nose has ended, and the trash can is filled with soiled tissues.
As the team disperses to gather their go-bags and call their families, Hotch stops Spencer with a hand on his shoulder.
“Have you been getting bloody noses?”
Taken aback by the question, Spencer blinks a few times before answering, “No.”
Hotch doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push the subject.
Spencer figures that it’s just his luck that he has to room with Hotch. Ordinarily, Spencer quite enjoys rooming with Hotch. The man is quiet and keeps a fairly strict schedule, which Spencer can appreciate. Unfortunately, he’s also a light sleeper.
So when Spencer wakes at 2 AM with a bloody nose, Hotch turns to look at him in the dark, face turned down in concern. “Another one?”
After nearly giving Spencer a heart attack from surprise, he answers, “‘S fine,”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Spencer winces, and nods, “Another bloody nose. I’ll be fine.”
“I thought you said they weren’t getting any more.” Hotch points out, sitting up on the bed, letting the covers fall a few inches down.
“I wasn’t,” Spencer honestly answers, holding a handful of tissues up to his face, frowning when he realizes a bit of blood has gotten on his pillow.
Hotch frowns at him. “Hm.”
The two agents sit in extremely awkward silence, the only noise being when Spencer pulls more tissues from the hotel nightstand. After it ends, Spencer tosses off the dirty pillow, before pulling up the hotel sheets up to his ears.
Hotch doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious he’s thinking hard about the facts in front of him. Spencer falls asleep before he gains enough confidence to say anything.
The next morning Spencer has the first shower, washing off the crusted blood from his nose and lip. It’s a terrible feeling, but after the shower he feels much better. While driving to the precinct Hotch questions, “Good?”
“What?”
Smiling, Hotch replies, “Sorry, I had a train of thought going on, and I forgot you don’t know what I’m thinking.”
Spencer gives a shy smile himself, not exactly knowing what Hotch is referring to. “Oh. What were you thinking of?”
“Your bloody noses.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah, I’m good. I didn’t get another one.”
With a nod, Hotch asks, “You really haven’t gotten many recently?”
“No,” Spencer shakes his head. “They’re just randomly started up again.”
“‘Again’?”
Spencer winces, wishing he could take back his words. “I mean, not ‘again’ again,” He winces again, and forces himself to keep looking out of the front windshield instead of turning around and dropping his head into his hands. “I’m fine.”
“Hm,” Hotch muses. “Keep me updated if you get more bloody noses?”
“I will,” Spencer confirms, keeping his eyes forward. “I will.”
He means it too, he really does. But when his next bloody nose is at 5 AM, his first thought isn’t to call Hotch. He deals with it himself, grumbling internally about the early wake-up call. Spencer holds a towel to his face, and starts up a pot of coffee, knowing that he’s not going to be able to get any more sleep.
The bloody nose lasts a little over thirty minutes this time, which makes him frown. Spencer isn’t sure why he’s still getting them. At first he could chalk it up to concussions and withdrawals, but now it doesn’t make sense.
He’s perfectly healthy, save for the occasional headache here and there. Taking the first sip of coffee, grimacing at the taste of blood in the back of his throat, Spencer pushes the thought from his mind. If it becomes a problem, he’ll deal with it later.
It becomes a problem.
They have a rare local case, taking place less than thirty miles from Quantico. What began as a hostage situation turned into a mass kidnapping, and everyone’s on edge. Pieces of families are gone, including children.
The whole BAU is sitting under a tent, brainstorming ideas of how to lure out the unsub, when Spencer smells the particular taste that happens right before he gets a bloody nose. Sure enough, not a minute later blood comes pouring out of his nose.
He quickly grabs his nose with his left hand, wondering why the hell he hasn’t put a packet of tissues in his messenger bag yet.
“Shit, Spence, you okay?” JJ asks, pulling her eyes from the security footage to her friend’s bloody hand.
“I’m fine,” He mutters, pissed off at his own body. “We need to focus on the case.”
Hotch frowns at him, before turning to a few officers of the Virginia Police Force. “Hey, can we get some tissues?”
“Hotch, I’m fine,” Spencer reiterates, mouth pulled up in an angry frown. “The case matters right now.”
Hotch frowns, wanting to take care of his youngest agent, but he knows that their priority is the lives of civilians. And so, after sending Spencer a glance that says, ‘We’re talking about this later,’ they get back to profiling.
The team gets so involved with the case that no one notices how much time passes. No one notices that Spencer’s bloody nose lasts nearly forty five minutes, and even after that, a few drops of blood continue to slip out.
In the end, they’re able to recover all of the victims, but the unsub escapes after thoroughly traumatizing a dozen people. The BAU heads back to Quantico with heavy hearts, none of them accepting this as a win. Even worse, Strauss tells them that the local police can continue the leads. They’re off the case.
Hotch looks ready to throw hands with Strauss, or even possibly the Director, but Rossi walks into his office at the end of the day. The door is closed for well over an hour, but Spencer sneaks glances through the open blinds. They both sit on the couch in the office, talking with their hands.
When Hotch emerges, he tells the team to go home, and then to everyone’s surprise, he goes home himself.
That night, Spencer gets another bloody nose. That one only lasts thirty minutes, but he’s so exhausted from the case, that he decides to just take a shower halfway through, metaphorically killing two birds with one stone.
By the time he’s gotten out of the shower the blood has stopped, and Spencer collapses in his bed, with barely enough energy to pull the covers over his body.
Not even a few hours later, he gets woken up by his phone, incessantly ringing a foot away from his ear.
“‘Lo?”
Surprisingly, it’s Rossi’s voice that greets him. “Sorry Reid, but we have a case. We need you at the round table.”
Spencer groans. “Got it. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Garcia’s bringing coffee,” Rossi adds, before hanging up.
By the time he gets back to Quantico, everyone’s already huddled in the conference room, save for JJ, who always takes extra time because of her family. The team still looks half asleep, except for Hotch, who looks like he hasn’t slept in two days. Spencer supposes that it’s probably true.
“Three bodies have emerged,” Hotch starts once JJ’s arrived, “With the same signature of a serial killer that we assumed we took into custody twenty years ago.”
Spencer frowns. “Copycat?”
“There are details on the bodies that we never released to the public.”
“Ah, Merda,” Rossi murmurs, picking up a file.
Hotch sighs. “Sorry, Dave.”
Morgan looks between the two of them, before questioning, “Okay, what am I missing here?”
“I worked on this case with Gideon,” Rossi murmurs. “Looks like we got the wrong guy. Damn.”
“We’ll brief more on the plane. Wheels up in twenty.”
Spencer’s head begins to throb when they’re 20,000 feet up, and he stumbles to the coffee machine, chugging an entire cup.
When Spencer settles back on the couch, everyone looks at him. It takes him a few moments until he realizes why. Blood is flowing down his face, and he grimaces when it runs over his lips onto his chin. Spencer quickly brings his left hand up to his nose.
“Anyone have any tissues?” Emily asks, frowning.
“Dammit,” Spencer mutters, muffled by his hand. JJ quickly hands him a travel packet of tissues, which he instantly tears into. Everyone keeps their eyes on him until he looks back at them. As if just realizing how awkward it was, the rest of the team suddenly looks anywhere but him.
Except for Hotch, who stays, unblinking. “How often are these happening?”
“Dunno,” Spencer lies.
Unfortunately, Hotch doesn’t fall for it. “Reid, you’re a genius with a perfect memory. How often have you been getting bloody noses?”
“About once a day?” He tries, bending the truth a bit to his liking.
“Reid.” Hotch chastises with a frown.
“I’m fine, Hotch.” Spencer insists. “Can we get back to the case?”
After a beat, Hotch begrudgingly replies, “Fine.”
Spencer’s bloody nose lasts another forty five minutes this time, but luckily it seems like no one really noticed. Rossi’s internally beating himself up, and Spencer feels guilty for taking even a bit of everyone else’s worry.
When the team reaches the precinct, Hotch leads Spencer to a chair, before shoving a water bottle into his grasp. “Drink all of it.” He adds, with a tone that an outsider might assume was a suggestion. Reid knows better. It’s a demand.
“Hotch,” Spencer starts with a sigh, “I told you, I’m fine,”
“Then it shouldn’t be any problem to be extra hydrated, will it?”
Spencer purses his lips, and unscrews the cap, attempting to avoid the eye contact Hotch so desperately wants. It’s not Spencer’s fault. He’s a blinker.
By the next hour, the water bottle is empty, and has been suspiciously replaced with a new one.
The team continues working the case into the next two days, none of them getting very much sleep. Spencer’s awoken by another bloody nose during the second night, but the hotel was empty enough for everyone to have their own separate rooms, so no one notices. There’s so much tension in the air that morning that Spencer doesn’t mention it to Hotch.
It’s late into the evening when Spencer’s narrowed down the geographical profile enough for Garcia to work her magic. An old veterinary clinic with a basement is where the unsub has been keeping and torturing his victims, and the BAU team instantly jumps into their SUVs, speeding down the highway.
The basement itself is bigger than the other floors of the building, and even weirder than that, there’s chain link fences set up, cutting off sections of it.
Spencer breaks off from the group after a quick nod to Hotch when he finds one of the unsub’s victims. He’s untying her when a forearm finds itself around Spencer’s neck.
“‘Otch,” Spencer tries to call out, before the butt of the pistol is slammed against his head. He would’ve collapsed if it weren’t from the unsub’s arm holding him up.
In a fraction of a second, the rest of the team has their guns trained on them.
“Let him go,” Hotch instructs, “You’re not going to get anywhere if you harm a federal agent.”
Angrily, the unsub points out, “I’m not going to get anywhere anyway! May as well take as many of you all down as I can, right?” When no one answers, he tightens his hold on Spencer and reiterates, “Right?!”
“You’re right!” Hotch agrees, holding up his hands in a surrender like fashion. “You’re right, Dennis,” He continues, attempting to distract him enough for Rossi to get a better angle. “You know what’s best for you, don’t you?”
Fervently nodding, the unsub raves, “I do! I know what to do! Not you pathetic scum!”
“That’s right.”
Spencer frowns when his nose starts bleeding. Did he hit it when the unsub was grabbing him?
“And I’m in control!” The unsub cackles, cocking the gun at Spencer’s temple.
In a fraction of a second, Spencer and the unsub fall from the floor, the only evidence being Rossi’s smoking gun. “‘In control’ my ass,” Rossi mutters, checking the unsub’s pulse to assure himself of his death.
Quickly holstering his gun, Hotch darts forward, checking his youngest agent for damage. Hotch felt his heart beat faster when he saw the blood pouring from Spencer’s nose, and when he doesn’t move off the floor, the unit chief’s heart speeds up even more.
“Reid?” Hotch questions, crouching down next to him, wincing at the amount of blood under his head. “Reid?” When Spencer stays unresponsive, he calls out, “We need an ambulance!”
JJ quickly crouches next to Hotch, reaching a hand out to her best friend. “What’s happening?”
Hotch swallows. “He's not waking up.”