A/N: Don't you ever want to scrap everything which came before and start again? Have happy endings and peace and comfort? Wouldn't it be lovely if that could happen? Tear away the pain and gore and the nasty relationships and just start the fuck again.

It's a lovely thought, but I don't think it's going to happen.

FREAK

Give me your shoes, or it will be me unwrapping you, and Princess won't like that ~ FFF

o-o-o

'You know, I can't let you do that.' Reid stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. A smudge of dirt on the side of his face looked damp, as though some insane bastard had tried to lick it away and got bored half way through the process. 'Leave the boy alone.' But the words didn't hold much conviction. Reid didn't look as though his words were going to be heeded. There was no reply. Just a sigh. A hand grabbed at Spencer's elbow and dragged him back out of sight of the house they had been standing looking at. 'I know what you're going to say. You've told me. I know. I just think it's… well wrong.'

Now there was a whispered reply. The words spoken directly into Spencer's ear. The hot breath so familiar. That quick lick on the curve of his ear. Nothing to be alarmed about, not yet. 'I don't give a fuck if you think it's wrong or not. When have I ever asked your damned permission to do what I need? When? Waiting for an answer, Babes. Quick now. I'll count to three and I'll need a real good answer from that genius brain of yours. One, two - …'

'Stop it.' Reid backed away slightly, but that hand was still there, still gripping a hold on him, fingertips digging in. 'You're hurting me.' He whispered.

'That's not a reason.' Floyd spoke through his teeth at Spencer. 'You do my nut in, Spence. I have explained everything. You know why.'

'Just because you have explained it, doesn't make it right. I don't want to be part of this. Never have wanted to be part of it. You do what you need to do…'

'… and risk that you'll not go crying to some suit and blab the wondrous plan?'

Spencer rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips and shook his head. 'It's not a wondrous plan, Floyd. It's kidnapping. It's… it's… it's the sort of thing I used to spend my time trying to solve. They will know it's you.'

'They think I'm dead. They think you're dead. They think Sam is dead. Why would it even cross their minds, unless you've been in contact with them somehow? Have you, Babes? Have you contacted Rossi?'

'Of course not.' Reid attempted to walk away down the street. A nice area. Expensive homes, good lawns… a good safe place to live – usually. 'I'm not stupid.'

'You are.' Floyd told Reid. 'You are a fucking moron if you think you can just tell me not to do something and I'll listen to you. Thought we were partners. Thought we had that conversation. You need to go through it all again? Fine! We'll go home and I'll hammer that fact into your fucking flesh once again. You… you… fucker. Honestly Spencer… What the hell made you think I would listen to your pathetic reasoning? I would upset the parents. The child isn't mine to take. He wouldn't enjoy himself where I'm taking him. It's going to draw attention… has any of that ever been a reason for me not to do something? I made a fucking deal Spencer. You know how that goes. You know. I can't renege on that. It's what it is.'

'I don't want to be part of it.' Reid stood beside a motorcycle and pulled a helmet off the catch on the back. 'Do what you have to do.'

'You stupid shit. You are part of the damned deal! You have to be part of it.' Floyd climbed onto the bike, pulling on his own helm and indicating that Spencer should get on the back. 'Home then. More conversations. More delays. And the longer the delay, the longer Sam is away from us. That's not something I want. I like to get what I want, Babes. Hold on tight. Don't fall off now.'

o-o-o

Home for Spencer was not his old apartment with his leather chair and shelves piled with books. Oh he still had books. He still had somewhere to sit, but this was not where he would have chosen to live. No choice though. It was a place down a not much used track. A small single storey home with a wraparound porch. There was a sparkling clean kitchen, an even cleaner bathroom, a lounge with squashy couch and coffee table (with coasters) and there was a bedroom with Floyd's huge bed. There was no telephone. There was a generator which Spencer was in charge of to have lights and hot water. There was an axe leaning on the woodshed wall, right next to the door, which Spencer was not permitted to use. There was a swing hanging from tree branch, chairs out on the front of the porch with a scattering of cheroot butts and old wine bottles. Every luxury Floyd allowed. They didn't need more.

'Be grateful, you bitch.' Floyd had snapped when Spencer moaned about the funny smell the place had. 'Some people have nowhere to sleep. You want to sleep out there, alone, in the dark… in the rain? Do you?' Spencer didn't… that was why, for now he was staying here. There were books to read. There was coffee. There was a bed. Strangely enough, even though he was here with a psychopath he did feel sort of safe.

Today they were sitting in the lounge. Spencer on the couch and Floyd on the coffee table, sitting with his elbows resting on his thighs, staring at Spencer and demanding that he looked at him in the eyes. At least at his face… 'Try looking at my nose and working your way up to the eyes.' Floyd had snapped. 'My face isn't so repulsive is it?'

'Of course not.'

But that wasn't the answer Floyd had wanted. He wanted, demanded truth. Truth! Is that so damned hard? Why was everyone a liar? Why couldn't people just open their stupid mouths and say what they meant. 'Liar.' Floyd sighed. 'Try again. Is my face really so repulsive to you? You used to like me… at least a like. Not even a like any longer?'

Spencer shrugged. What to say? How to explain that he could see through the veil? He could see something lurking there under Floyd's skin. Something pulsating, damp and oozing. He could smell it. He could smell the rot. Spencer's stomach heaved and he looked up from his hands which he was twisting in his lap to Floyd's eyes. He swallowed, licked his lips and felt something like barbed wire wrapping around his brain. His eyes watered as his mouth went dry. Fear? Was that fear? Spencer thought he wasn't afraid of this monster, but was he spending his life – what was left of it – being afraid of the one thing he needed to stay safe?

'Something has gone wrong.' Spencer muttered.

'Evidently. I know. You don't have to remind me of failure, Spence. I know it's gone wrong. So fucking wrong that I can feel death approaching so damned fast that it makes my skin crawl. This last task… we need to do it. We have to get the boy. They make demands of me, Babes and there really is nothing I can do to stop them. I've no control over this. I admit to you here, because no one else is here to listen and because if you blabbed, no one would believe you… I am but a pawn. A throwaway piece of nothing. The smallest bit of crap you could imagine. It broke me. What happened destroyed us all. This is our way back. You want to live in your hell for eternity? I found you immortality, Spencer, don't throw that back in my face like it means nothing. Look at me! Stop looking at your fucking hands! I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you want to leave.'

Spencer looked up again at Floyd. Looked at those dead, dark eyes. He took in the emotionless face… no anger there. Certainly no love. Nothing. A blank face. 'I never said I wanted to leave. I said I didn't want to be involved in your plan. It's not that… well it is actually. I think it's a vile thing to do. I don't want involvement. Leave Henry alone. Please. Go back and try to get a different deal.'

'Can't. This was the last. I've done all else. I destroyed Hotchner. I dealt with Derek. I've removed Prentiss from the scene. I've destroyed you too. I've no interest in the chicks who are working on the team now. They mean nothing. They are nothing. They have nothing to offer either of us. Jack…'

'Don't. Just don't.' Spencer got up from the couch. He was going to walk out to the kitchen and get a coffee… something to distract himself from what was going on here, but Floyd jumped up too and pushed him back down again.

'Didn't tell you to stand. Didn't give you a choice. I need you with me. I have to have you involved. It's all part of the plan, Spencer. All part. Can't have you feeling guilt or regrets. We are both monsters in the eyes of the law. You want to walk back into that situation? They'll lock you up. I'll tell them that you knew everything. I'd tell them it all and they will believe me. They will do. I will tell them that you noticed the missing roll of plastic. I'll tell them that you knew your gloves were gone. I'll tell them that you knew I could do what I did in the time they wouldn't have thought possible. It would blow my alibi out of the water, but if you're going to throw me to the dogs, then I'll be dragging you there with me. No more nice guy.'

Spencer raised an eyebrow at that. Nice? Nice was not something he would use to describe Floyd. Maybe once. Maybe there had been times. There had been! Surely. Floyd had given him his all. Floyd would never have let him die. Floyd would kill anything which was thought a threat. Not now. Things had changed. Things had gone very wrong.

'This last time.' Spencer said. 'Too many times we have gone and come back again. Sam's clocks. The time shifting. It's destroyed us both. It's destroyed everything. There's nothing left, Floyd. I'd never report you to anyone. Have I ever? Why don't you trust me now?'

Crazy Spencer! 'You've lost whatever plot you once had. Lost and gone, never to be seen again. Trust? I never trusted you. I always had to keep tabs on you. Why do you think I used our special little mind talks. Why do you think I had that bond with you? It was so I could feel your pain… but so I could feel your joy too! I knew when you were being ploughed. I could feel every thrust. Tell me why I should suddenly trust you? You don't love me. It's not love. It's been a long time since you've felt any desire for me, except for me to hurt you. Oh you still like a bit of rough… I know that. That's not… wait… forgot what I was saying… I've never trusted you. Whore. To the core a fucking whore.'

'That's unfair.' Spencer again stood. This time Floyd let him. He watched Spencer walk to the kitchen and thought as he sat again on the coffee table, how many sharp knives there were out there. Forks. Eating forks. Stick one of those in an eye and it would hurt.

'I hope you're not thinking of picking up a fork!' Floyd bellowed out.

Spencer looked at the spoon in his hand and shook his head. 'I don't need a fork to make coffee.'

Floyd stood and walked around the small oak table. 'Don't make coffee, Babes. Sweet Baby Pluto… not coffee. I'm sure I've told you that your coffee tastes like warm shit. Grab a bottle of wine. Or maybe ask me to make the coffee? You know? You could do that.'

Spencer placed the spoon down again and walked back to the doorway where he could see Floyd staring at the fireplace. 'Would you make coffee?'

'Please?'

'Please can you make the coffee?'

'Who you talking to, bitch?'

'Floyd can you please make the coffee?'

'So you're trying to tell me what to do? You think I'm your fucking slave or something? Yes… I guess so. I think I'm about to ban you from going in the kitchen again. Don't like the way you look at my collection of things in the fridge. I'll cook us up something nice, huh? You fancy something nice? Something spicy? Something to make your hair grow a bit faster, because sure as shit on my shoe, I don't like you with short hair. Makes your head look fucking huge.' He paused and looked at Spencer. 'Have I ever told you that you have the perfect shaped skull? It's a masterpiece in genetics. It's beautiful. Come… let me lick you.'