a/n: Follow up from The Saved.

I have no idea if this reads OK…

1

The fifth floor of a slightly run down tenement wasn't the place Sam had wanted to live. He had argued with Spencer over this for weeks before they were finally evicted from their last place. The walls of the stairwell were covered in graffiti probably going back decades. There had in the past been weak attempts at covering up the most obscene of it, but the blobs of creamy paint just left a nice fresh surface for more tags, phone numbers and pictures of various body parts to be added. Sam could smell urine and sweat, the stale stink of alcohol and other smells he either couldn't or didn't want to place.

It was hot. Much too hot even for the summer. He'd seen on the news that people had been dying. He thought maybe someone had crawled under the stairs here and started to rot. It was that bad today. Sam could also hear the distant sound of music… at least the base line of something thump, thump, thumping through the air and that sound was getting louder the further up the stairs he jogged.

Sam was wearing knee length, black skinny jeans, a Tshirt with a faded logo over the front in a mix of different shades of blue and a pair of blue sandals on his feet. He had topped today's outfit with a pale blue cap over his hair which he'd tied back. He looked underweight and sick, with shadows under his eyes and bruises up his shins. He burst through the door on the fifth floor landing, looked at the three dark skinned, pissed off looking guys standing in the corridor and attempted to burst back through where he'd come from.

Click, click… guns out and pointing at him… Sam stood as though his feet had been coated in cement. 'Well, well, well… little brother returns.' A deep voice from one of the gun wielders spoke, another stepped forwards and Sam still didn't move. He heard the door snap shut behind him and from further down the corridor… "Burn baby burn…." Blared out… probably from behind the door of the apartment Sam lived in.

Slowly he raised his hands. 'I don't have anything.' He muttered.

It didn't seem to be the answer they wanted though. Sam was dragged into a small alcove, with a door saying Dry Riser behind him. They wanted money. Always they want money. He had no idea how they found them this time, but he wondered if they just drove around the city listening for someone playing shitty music at a volume which would kill a normal person. They slapped him around the face… they gave him a hard fisted punch in the stomach and they took his wallet which had all the money he and Spencer had in the world. 'Why don't you leave us alone?' He groaned as his knees met with the floor.

'You two love birds owe money. We'll keep coming back till you've paid up.'

'He's my brother!' Sam exclaimed.

'Sure he is.' Laughter… the rustling of money being counted. 'Is this all you have?'

'It's everything.' He felt his cap being lifted from his head and a hand resting on the top of his greasy hair.

'You know if you just paid up when you were meant to, and stopped trying to run, we'd not have to come and get so boisterous with you.'

Sam let out a soft groan, wondering what they were going to do; knock his teeth out, break his nose, his arm? He wanted them to just get it the hell over with so he could go home and shout abuse at Spencer, but today they let him go. The empty wallet was dropped to the floor. It was red with a hello kitty logo on the front.

'Fucking fag.' Someone muttered as the door slammed and the footsteps receded downwards.

He snatched up his wallet. 'I'm not a fag.' Sam muttered and got to his feet. The music had changed to some other ancient bit of disco music. Sam wiped angry tears from his face and swallowed back some blood from where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek and slowly now, he walked to the door with the number 506 scratched into the paintwork. Sam slipped a key which was attached to his belt with a bit of elasticised cord, pushed open the door and walked into the noise.

First things first. He locked the door again, slipped the large metal bolt across the door and then fiddled with the alarm, turning it off and then on again. The red words Alarm On flashed up. Sam rattled the door just to make sure and then went to find the source of the dreadful music.

Spencer didn't know that anyone was in the apartment until the music suddenly stopped. He was kneeling on the floor surrounded by old newspaper cuttings and notes scribbled on bits of lined paper he'd torn out of a note book. Spencer looked up at Sam and gave him a quizzical look. He could see by the look on Sam's face that something had happened. Spencer wiped his sweaty hands on his thighs and stood up, careful not to mess up the things on the floor.

'Something happened?' As he walked towards Sam, Sam moved back.

'You're high again.' Sam accused. 'Why do you do this shit? Why do you have to fuck everything up all the time? I had those fucking niggers pointing guns at me.' Sam took out his wallet and threw it at Spencer. 'They took our rent money and… and they took everything. We're broke again. If I could fucking trust you I'd not have cash on me.' It looked to Sam as though Spencer was going to say something, but he didn't wait to hear what it was and Spencer seemed to just be standing there grinding his teeth with wide eyes which just didn't seem to understand the situation they were in. Sam wanted a shower to get the feel of the hoodlums off him. They made his skin crawl. They made him feel sick, almost as much as Spencer made him feel sick.

'I've found…'

Sam walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. 'I'm not interested in what you think you've found. You're fucking out of your head! That stuff you keep taking makes you fucking bonkers and it's going to get me killed if you cant pay for it. What the fuck do you think you're playing at? Shouldn't you be at work?'

Spencer leaned on the door frame and watched little brother strip off for his shower. 'I called in sick, but Sam you really should see what I've found. We need to report it. The cops…'

'Never listen. Never will listen… and you know why? Because it's all in your fucking head! It's not real Spencer! You're as fucking gone in your head as your damned mother. You're insane and I only stick around because of some weird sense of… I dunno what it is…' Sam kicked off his sandals and pulled off the jeans. 'It's like we're meant to look out for each other, but you don't do a hell of a lot of looking out for, just a lot of looking.'

Spencer watched Sam step into the shower and shook his head. 'This is real.' Spencer said. He stepped into the bathroom, put the lid down on the toilet and sat as Sam had his shower. 'Just listen to me, please.' And as Sam didn't tell him to go away and let him shower in peace, Spencer carried on. 'Twenty years ago in New York five children went missing. The parents were found hung and the kids were just gone. Two different families. It was investigated, but the incidences happened over the course of about a year and nothing was ever found. The children were never recovered. The case went cold. Five years later…'

Sam stepped out of the shower and pulled a towel off a shelf. He wrapped it tightly around his middle and frowned. 'You're going to tell me that his happens in a cycle… you always do. It's always the fucking same. What are you expecting to find, Spencer?'

'A five year cycle. New York, Washington, Vegas…'

'And you're going to tell me that it's happening again? That some creepo out there takes kids only every five years or so? Fine… great. What's it got to do with us?'

'It's following me, Sam. Last week a couple were found murdered in their homes… the kids are missing. It's been reported as a murder, abduction… I think it's something else.'

'If you didn't keep topping up your fucking mind with methedrone you'd see that it is what it actually is… Some arsehole loon. Nothing to do with you and nothing to do with me.' Sam opened the medicine cabinet and then slammed it again. 'You've been at home all damned day and it didn't cross your mind to get toothpaste?'

'I've cross checked something else…'

'I'm not interested! Cant you get that through your skull! You're imagining it! You're paranoid and delusional. You're sick and I should get you locked up in a room next door to your mother. Fucking hell Spencer!'

'Adult males have been going missing… four have been reported. The same thing happens every time. The children and the murders, and the missing adult males. They've never connected it before.'

'Because there's nothing connecting them? Just think about it when you're having a shower. I'm going to get changed and go out and get some toothpaste, assuming there's some loose change somewhere, because - you remember… some fucks took all our money.'

Spencer followed Sam now back into the lounge. He hissed slightly through his teeth as Sam walked over his careful work of sorting out the clues he thought he'd found. Sam slumped down on the couch and looked around the scruffy room. Nothing belonged to them. They owned hardly anything of their own. The room was bare apart from the couch, a wooden chair by the fire exit door and a battered scuffed coffee table. Spencer sat on the chair by the fire escape door and nibbled on his bottom lip for a while. He watched Sam looking around the room and then saw his gaze settle on him.

'Where's the laptop?' Sam asked. 'Please tell me you didn't pawn the damned laptop. Please!'

'Sam…' Spencer needed to explain, but he didn't know how to start. Sam was always so angry. Always so on edge. Spencer was sure that Sam could feel that something was wrong. Sam was just as bothered about keeping their small home secure as Spencer was. He always set the alarm… never opened the few small windows. Always looking over his shoulder. Why would Sam be so scared if he didn't think that there was something out there?

Spencer watched Sam get back to his feet and walk to the only bedroom. It wasn't a room Sam ever slept in. He had long ago decided that the couch was a better place. Spencer had weird dreams and nightmares. At first it bothered Sam, but now he just found it annoying. Sleeping on the couch was the only way he could get a good night's sleep. His clothes though were in a pile on the floor of the overly hot room. Again Spencer followed him and watched, this time as Sam got dressed again, this time in slightly baggy jeans and a green vest top.

'You going out again?'

Sam shrugged. 'Is there food in the kitchen?' Spencer just gave him that hurt, blank look. 'Well, I'm going to go get us something to eat.'

'There's a few dollars in the coin jar.' Spencer pointed to the night stand.

'I'm going to need more than a few dollars. Set the alarm when I leave.'

'Sam…'

Sam was having none of it though. He was tired of excuses. Tired of Spencer's peculiar ways. Tired of having to go out and attempting to recover what Spencer had pawned. 'Just have a fucking shower and brew up some coffee. I'll be an hour at the most.'

o-o-o

On another day Sam might have felt that odd tingling on the back of his neck. He'd had it often… and more and more recently. It felt as though someone was following him, but he could never catch sight of who it was. He'd once, before they arrived in this lovely new neighbourhood, reported it to the police.

They laughed at him, told him to go away. They said that if he's going to dress the way he does and look the way he does, then it's not really surprising that someone might follow him. They asked him if he was on drugs or owed money.

But Sam knew that someone other than the people who took their money was following him. It was a different feeling. A dark feeling… like it was the very shadows watching him. It made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up and sweat form on his brow, but tonight he felt nothing but the oppressive heat and a deep unforgiving anger directed at Spencer. The pawn shop was called Ozgards and during most days was run by the owner, a bloated elderly man with a tuft of yellowing grey hair behind his ears. He was a mean bit of work who took great pleasure in seeing the disappointment on your face when he offered the tiny amount of money for the item you wanted pawned. 'Take it or get out.' He'd say. During the evening though it was Ozgard Junior who had charge of the store and though they'd only been here a short while, Sam was already over familiar with the spotty yellow toothed man who looked a hell of a lot older than he actually was. Sam pushed the door of the place open. A small bell jingled and the ugly beast looked up from the magazine he'd been looking at. Sam couldn't actually say if the guy was reading it… he had doubts Junior could read… but there were lots of pictures to look at.

'Thought you'd be by.' A smile on Junior's face made Sam feel queasy.

He walked to the counter and scratched at the back of his neck. 'If you paid what things were worth then I'd not have to come back. You screw over my brother every damned time, so hand it back or give me what it's worth.'

Junior placed his hands on the glass topped counter. It was grimy and cracked along the top. Inside there was a collection of electronic goods people had pawned and failed to collect. 'If I was to give him what it's worth I'd hardly make a living now would I?'

'Then just give it back. You know he's not right in the head. You shouldn't take advantage of him.'

'I'll hand it back – for a price.'

Sam knew what that price was going to be. He glanced at the door and then at the door at the rear of the stuffy building. 'Fine. But use this.' Sam slapped a condom down on the counter, walked to the door, locked it and turned the sign around to closed.

o-o-o

He'd followed Sam to the corner of the block and then was going to go back and sit in the deepening shadows back at the tenement block the lads were living in. As he turned to go back again something caught his attention. A shout of surprise and a scuffling sound from the small side alley way between the buildings. He knew that he should have left it. It wasn't his business, but yeah, he was curious and so he walked quickly down into the dark, stinking heat; his boot heels clicking on the tarmac surface.

There is was again. A shout from a darkened doorway. A female shout. 'Get off me!' He could have been a hero and gone in to the rescue, but, no… decision made, this wasn't his business. If some whore got raped it was hardly anything to do with him now was it? He stood and listened to the sounds for a while. Someone struggling and that delightful sound of fist on flesh. It made Floyd's heart pound. He leaned back on the wall and tipped his head back, taking in long deep breaths, filtering out the shit and allowing the sweet scent of fear and sex in. It made him light headed… all he needed now was the sudden rush of blood… the sound of tearing flesh… the taste… that sweet, sweet taste. Not today though. The cries died off and the giggles started. Nothing to listen to… no life being torn from someone. At least not tonight. He thought he'd go see if Sam was still at the pawn shop, if not, he'd go back to the apartment and maybe introduce himself to the pair of them. He'd introduce himself quite violently – he'd get that scent of blood from those two if not from here. All he could smell now was wet cunny and lust. He pulled a smoke out of his pocket, took out his lighter and started to walk back down towards the street.

The pain tore through the back of his head. His hands went numb, dropping the smoke and lighter. The pain arrived again, this time lower down his back, but somehow he was still on his feet. As Floyd turned to see what the hell was going on something hit him across the jaw. Floyd fell backwards into the rubbish at the side of the alley. He didn't feel someone grabbing his feet and he didn't feel his hands being tied behind his back.

Sam walked back home again. He had the laptop under his arm and the unused condom in his pocket. Spencer was going to pay for this. Sam was going to get some payback for having to whore himself out to keep Spencer in drugs. He glanced down the alleyway Floyd had walked down not half an hour earlier. Something glittered… something metallic. Sam stood looking at it for a few minutes, checked that there was no one around and then ran down to where he could see a couple of things laying discarded. An old lighter and a smoke. At least he'd have something other than a sore arse and bite marks on his back to show Spencer. The lighter made his fingers tingle in the same sort of way he got when he thought someone had been following him, or watching him. He shuddered and briefly considered throwing them down again, but a smoke was a smoke. After selling your arse to some fat pervert who gave a shit what you were smoking? He would save it for when he got home though.

o-o-o

Spencer hadn't had the perfect childhood. His mother was ill, his father walked out. The bullies at school kept up a relentless barrage of abuse and pain. They took his lunch most days, which usually only consisted of a bit of fruit or a hastily made cheese sandwich. They took his books, his work. They pushed him, laughed at him… called him and his mother dirty names.

There were times when his mother was hospitalised and he had to spend short and sometimes longer weeks in children's homes. He was a constant bed wetter. He was scared of the dark. He cried himself to sleep most nights, barely left the house during the day. School work fell to the side as he struggled to look after his mother. A kid trying to do the job his father had walked out on.

Spencer's mother finally left the home for the final time when Spencer was eighteen. He'd been working at a local bookstore but lost his job because of the amount of time he had to have off work. His mother had fallen behind in insurance payments. Bennington wasn't the place his mother went to. A state hospital took her in, but it still cost Spencer money he barely had. Job after job… dismissal after dismissal.

And then that day at the library. Spencer had gone there looking for information on demons. He was sure that had something to do with his nightmares, but when he asked, the librarian had given him what seemed to be a knowing look. 'There's someone looking up the same stuff. You should work together.' And that's how he had met Sam. Sam who had looked familiar… so familiar that it made Spencer feel faint… and Sam had slammed the book shut and stared at Spencer.

They saw each other in dreams… in nightmares. They had gone together and had coffee at Starbucks. They discussed their dreams and found a connection. A huge connection. They were the same dreams.

'Fucking hell.' Sam had muttered. 'I thought I was going mad. Maybe I am.'

'Then we both are.' Spencer had said. And for quite a while after that Sam believed that. They were somehow sharing the same dirty – very dirty and intimate dreams… with each other and with an unknown face. But it stayed just a dream for Sam and a nightmare for Spencer. They moved in together… or rather Sam moved in with Spencer who had started to do some very odd things – desperately searching on the internet for answers which seemed to totally take over his life. Lost job after lost job… he didn't seem to be able to hold anything down. Sam was trying to go to college, but in the way that Spencer had been bullied and finally had been his mother's carer, it now seemed that Sam was doing that for Spencer. Spencer who had started to take a little pill every now and then… 'It lets me see the dreams clearer.' He'd explained.

'I can make your dreams a reality.' Sam had offered as he stood there in his jockstrap and boots.

'You're a child.'

'I can be any age you want me to be!' Sam had offered, but the offer was turned down.

'I'm not… I…'

'You don't like boys?' Sam sounded surprised. 'Doesn't look that way in my dreams… slut.'

They had come very close to parting ways. They had fights… verbal and occasionally a bit of pushing, but something kept them close. Spencer told people that Sam was his kid brother. Sam told people that Spencer was his junky bro and he needed to keep an eye on him.

In Spencer's view Sam became more and more manipulative. He hid the money, he took Spencer's little green capsules away from him. He kept the phone unplugged. Told Spencer not to open the door to anyone…

'I'm the adult!' Spencer would shout at him. 'I know what I'm doing!'

'Then start showing it!' Sam shouted back as he stood there in a tight pair of red hotpants. 'Stop obsessing about those fucking murders and help me track down this other person.'

Then they'd fall into sulky silence again.

They moved around. Lack of money was a big part of this. Sam picked pockets… took anything he could get his hands on. He pawned cell phones and iPods regularly at different places. He even broke into houses if the chance was there, but that wasn't something he liked to do. Much too risky. And now people were after them for money Spencer owed. It was doing Sam's head in. All of it was.

When he got home Spencer was sitting amongst bits of paper again, scribbling down notes. Sam slapped the laptop onto the coffee table and took in the look Spencer gave him.

'Stop giving our shit away.' Sam snapped at him. 'I don't see why I have to be the one running around getting it back.'

'I never asked you to.' Spencer stood up and gave Sam a funny look. 'I want to try something tonight.'

Sam just snorted a laugh at Spencer. 'I'm going to have another shower. I feel dirty.' He stripped off as he walked and Spencer picked up the things off the floor as he followed him.

'If we dream at the same time – I mean… in the same place, we might see more.' The lighter tumbled out of one of Sam's pockets and Spencer stood staring at it. 'Sam? Where did this come from?' Reid wanted to pick it up and hold it and keep it safe and never let it out of his sight, but he also wanted it no where near him.

'I found it. Can we try to keep it a full day before you pawn it? Someone must have dropped it… there's a smoke in the other pocket, but they're mine Spence. Mine OK? I want to smoke that.'

Spencer let Sam go for now. He prodded the lighter with his toe and then knelt down to get a better look. He knew it. He had seen it before. He could even see the hand which usually held it… a pale hand with dirty fingernails… hard hands. He reached out and gently touched it with one finger.

Sam thought Spencer had had a heart attack, or a stroke. He was just laying there twitching on the hallway floor. Then he thought Spencer had taken an overdose of this damned pills… 'Crap, crap, crap.' Sam ran for the phone and called for assistance and then ran back to Spencer who was bleeding from his ears and foaming pink muck from his mouth. 'What the hell happened?' Sam screamed at him. 'What did you do? What did you take? Spencer!' He could see that Spencer had the lighter clutched in his hand, but when Sam tried to get it away from him Spencer screamed a very unholy howl which had the unexpected effect of making Sam burst into tears. 'Don't you dare die! You've all I've got… I need you. You're a useless fuck but I need you!'

They strapped him down and took him to the hospital. They wanted to know what he'd taken, and Sam didn't know, but he muttered 'meow meow…' and that seemed to mean something to them. They took him away and did a load of tests.

'He's sleeping.' They told Sam.

'Can I see him? Has he still got the lighter?'

'That's the odd thing, he wont release it. Does it mean something to him?'

'Obviously.' Sam moaned back. 'But I can see him? He has nightmares… real bad screamers. Just thought you should know.'

Sam sat at the side of Spencer's bed and watched every twitch. They were going to ask for insurance details soon and he had none to show them. He had nothing. They'd throw them out and Spencer would die and Sam would be alone again… He got up and went to leave the room.

'Sam?' Spencer whispered.

He walked back to the bed and sat down on the green plastic chair. 'You're awake… good. We cant stay here. Cant afford it.'

'Sam… the lighter… I know whose it is… Go and find him. Go and find Floyd.'

It was like something smacked Sam over the back of the head. He lurched forwards where he was sitting in the chair and smacked his head on the metal rim of the bed Spencer was in. 'Oh my fucking god! Oh fuck… oh my fucking fuck… what a pair of cunts we are! All this time! Oh fucking hell Spencer! How could we have forgotten Floyd? How is that even possible?'

'I don't know, but he wouldn't have dropped this… Go report him missing or something. Take all that stuff I collected with you. Find him.' He handed Sam the lighter.

'He's going to fucking kill us! Oh my fuck! What have we done? What happened? What the fuck happened?'

a/n: I have no idea how this reads back… Let me know if there is any point in carrying on. It's confusing… it's AU and I think you'd have had to have read the stuff before this to understand what's going on. Thanks! PB