Those with the greatest awareness have the greatest nightmares.

~ Mahatma Gandhi

He walked slowly, hesitantly, but with determination as any good FBI agent would. He signaled two men to go around the back with another behind him as he entered the house. Checking every corner, every room, he was lethal in his silence. He had a feeling, one he couldn't shake. It was the feeling he always seemed to get when he knew something bad was about to happen. It was a basic human instinct. One they taught as to why some people inherently knew when someone who was evil was near. It was what made those hairs on the back of your neck rise. It was the feeling that shot a chill down your spine. Fight or flight. As an agent, flight was not an option. Fight was what they were trained to do.

He knew he had seen many evil things in this world. Children who barely got the chance to know what life truly was. Women, who had every sense of security ripped from them after being violated, their homes no longer safe to them. He had seen torture, and rage. Psychotic breaks that pushed human beings to do some of the most awful things that the majority of civilians would never know about. It was their job to keep people feeling safe, telling people that everything was ok. That murder wasn't an everyday thing.

Some days he wondered how he made it through another day. The physical, mental & emotional wear and tear of every single case made for many sleepless nights, and many long days. And yet still, here he was, moving silently & lethally through this house to confront what may come.

He approached the last door to be checked with three men flanking his back. Gun in hand, he kicked the door to come face to face with a horror that took his breath. His sisters, his mother, & his partner all lay scattered around the room. Bloody corpses of the only family he had left in this world. Wide eyes showed that his sisters and mother had no chance, but his partner was gurgling blood at the mouth, a knife directly imbedded in his heart. A bloody message had been smeared on the wall, so much like what the Fisher King had done to Elle, he now too saw what was meant for them.

SODOMITES

"Der…Derek." It was no more than a whisper, but it had him on his knees at his side in a flash. The room was cleared, the unsub wasn't there.

"No, no no no no!" His body was shaking, he screamed for paramedics in his walkie, begging them to hurry.

The man whose eyes he was staring in to were becoming glassy and he had tears pouring down his face.

"Stay with me…please, don't leave me…"

"I…I lo-, I love you Derek Morgan." The blood was escaping out of the side of his mouth slowly, and for once in his life Derek had no answers. His breathing was labored hard and quick, death within his grasp.

"No, please. Please!"

"Derek! DEREK!" shaking his shoulder gently, Dr. Spencer Reid, had laced his fingers with that of the nightmare ridden Morgan, and was trying to quickly wake him from whatever terror he was witnessing. Derek sat bolt upright, his eyes wide with panic, and Spencer started speaking slowly, softly, easing Derek's adrenaline fueled fright.

"Derek, breathe, everything is ok. You're alright."

Derek turned abruptly, staring into the eyes he had just seen slip into the hands of death. It wasn't the first time he had a dream that Spencer had died. But the bloody bodies of his family, his lover, those who mattered most to him in life, he couldn't get the image to leave him. He now saw it with every blink of his eye.

Realizing now that he was awake, his breathing started to even out. He took slow, deliberate breaths to try and push away the remaining dredges of what his dreams had conjured. He slowly shook his head, rationalizing the fact that he knew this was reality. That Spencer was fine, although worry was written over every inch of his face.

Leaning over, Derek kissed him thoroughly, sweetly, his hand making its way to tangle in the soft locks of his shaggy hair. Pulling away, he kept his eyes closed simply so he could breathe Spencer in, his scent, the smell of his shampoo and body wash that made Derek salivate. He didn't want to let him go, but he had to make a phone call, even at this late hour.

Holding up a finger to show Spencer he needed a moment, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand next to them, and got out of bed and went into the kitchen. The freezing cold tile under his feet was another assurance he was awake, trying his best to shake off the last of his horror at what he had seen in his subconscious.

Hitting the speed dial, he heard the phone ring and ring, knowing he felt terrible to need to do this for reassurance purposes.

"Hello?" a groggy voice on the other end of the phone made a breath he didn't realize he was holding on to escape past his lips in a rush.

"Mama?"

"Derek? Baby are you ok?"

"I'm sorry for waking you Mom. I just…I needed to hear your voice."

"Baby don't apologize. What's wrong? You didn't fight with Spencer did you? Is he ok? Are you ok?"

The rush of possible problems escaped his mothers' lips before he could get a word in edgewise and he smiled because he knew after hearing her awake and alert that everything was okay.

"I had a nightmare, a bad nightmare Mama. I couldn't get to you guys fast enough. Too much blood everywhere. The big empty glassy eyes that I can still close my eyes and see. And Spencer, the guy had stabbed him in the heart, and he died in my arms. I just can't get the image out of my head."

He could hear his Mom draw a breath, obviously getting the scene her son had portrayed.

"I'm sorry Mama, I didn't mean to wake you and then go into a description you didn't need to hear. I just needed to make sure you were okay."

"Derek, it's okay. Your father use to call like this, in the middle of the night when he use to run third shift. If there was something particularly gruesome, he would always call. I understand, and I appreciate and love the fact that you're as protective as he once was. But I'm okay. Your sisters are just fine. Now go get back in bed with that handsome boy who BEST be my son in law one of these days, and don't let him go."

Derek let out a small chuckle as he parted the conversation with his mother, telling her he loved her and would call her properly in the morning.

Realizing now that he was caked in sweat, he headed towards the bedroom, where Spencer was sitting up, his glasses on and a book in his hand. He looked Derek up and down, and his disheveled appearance brought a frown to his face. Derek could do nothing but walk over to him, grab his hand and pull him towards the bathroom with him.

Stripping out of his boxers, and divesting Spencer of his pajama pants, Derek turned the water on to the shower to a warm temperature before he pulled Spencer into the shower with him. Pulling his fluid body against his, Spencer just let Derek hold him, knowing he needed the comfort of feeling his heartbeat, and the feeling of each breath that entered and exited his body.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" the whisper of words passed his lips softly and he could feel Derek tense for just a moment.

"He killed you. He murdered my Mom and sisters, but waited for me to get there so I could watch you die. The word sodomite was written in blood on the wall, and you had a knife in your heart. And there was nothing I could do. You kept trying to tell me you loved me, and you were in a pool of blood, with more dripping from your mouth. I begged you to stay with me, but those eyes went lifeless. That's when I felt you trying to wake me."

Spencer let out a soft sigh, knowing exactly where Derek's head was. He had had many similar dreams to that. Derek dying, his mother dying, the entire team not making it out of a case. He knew was it was like to submerge into unconsciousness, begging for temporary relief, and in turn finding none. It was exhausting mentally, physically and emotionally.

Using his long fingers, Reid started to rub the back of Derek's neck as Derek set it down into the crook of Spencer's neck and collarbone. He felt Derek start to lay reverent kisses where his lips lay and turned his head to give him better access. He knew that sometimes no words could fix what had happened. No amount of hand holding could rid your mind of those images. You had to force the here and now. Bring the present to light and show him that he was still very much alive, and he would fight to be with him with every last breath in his body.

Derek started to increase the pressure in his kisses, becoming more urgent. Spencer let out a small moan as he suddenly felt Derek slide his hand down to capture him in his hands and became louder with every stroke of Derek's hand.

"Der…Derek…" the groan was soft, and the way he said his name was causing Derek's own pressing need to become harder. Derek dropped to his knees in front of Spencer, laying kisses to his hip bones and across his stomach as the water rained down upon him. Derek made slow work of sucking on the tip of Spencer, and feeling the younger man twitch. Feeling bolder, he started working harder, teasing him more until the Doctor was a mess of delicious sounds and weakening knees.

"Derek, please. I don't…wanna, ohhh god, I need you. Please."

They lasted until the water ran cold. Their breath became heightened to a quickened pace until they finally parted, their hearts pounding out a rhythm only the others knew. Spencer was the one who finally pulled him from the shower, knowing his partner was laden with thoughts his mind still held on to. The younger man dried him slowly, taking his time, allowing his touch to resend his message over and over, "I'm here. I'm here."

He got Derek into a pair of boxers before making him sit in a chair as he changed the sheets quickly. He couldn't count the number of times they had each done this for one another, a ritual almost, a ritual to know the other was loved, and not alone.

Getting him a glass of water and a sleeping pill, Derek questioningly looked at the pill.

"Take it. It's okay. I'm going to go call Hotch, and we're going to sleep."

Derek nodded numbly, resolved in the knowledge that a personal day every once in a while wasn't a bad thing.

After making the quick phone call to their supervisor, Spencer gently took Derek's hand and pulled him to the bed. Sitting him on the edge, Spencer sat in his lap, his arm wrapped around the back of Derek's shoulders as the darker man set his head back in the crook of Spencer's neck.

Smiling to himself briefly, if Spencer had ever thought the day would come where he would be so comfortable remaining in touch with someone for so long, he would have laughed. Truly laughed. But now, he couldn't fathom a time where he wouldn't be able to hold Derek. To sleep next to him. To debate with him. To fight with him. To laugh with him. To cry with him. To live as his best friend, and his partner.

He could feel Derek becoming heavy with sleep, and he nuzzled the top of his head before planting a brief kiss on his forehead.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Spencer smiled as they climbed into bed, Derek protectively wrapping his arm around Spencer's waist and each of them conforming to the other. Spencer turned over, his head resting on Derek's chest, the rhythm of his heart lulling him to relaxation. Spencer could often swear at times like this, he could feel his own heart slow or quicken to match the pace of his lovers. Each heart so finally in tune with the others.

"I'm thinking that sometimes, despite how terrible these nightmares can be, that it makes me love you even a tiny bit more, because I've dreamt of what its like to lose you. And I waken to find you have never left my side."

Kissing his hair, Derek smiled slightly,

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

"I have had dreams, and I have had nightmares. I overcame the nightmares because of my dreams."-Dr. Jonas Salk