(This is a filler piece, set between my other stories "Horror Movies, Statistics, and a Lifetime" and "Hope". It actually takes place within another story that I am writing but haven't posted yet. It'll be called "Apocalypse Now" and is a case fic--the case that is slightly mentioned here. enjoy and Please--review. Thanks)

Emily must have been haunting the hotel again, Spencer thought as he entered the hotel lobby. The six of them—he, Garcia, Emily, JJ, Hotch, and Morgan—had all been crammed into an incredibly small, incredibly hot hotel room. He and Derek had been crammed together in a small bed and the three women were even closer together in the larger double. Hotch took the pull out couch, though it was big enough for two. It wasn't making a comfortable night for anyone. He'd woken and found one of the women missing.

Spencer found her sleeping in a ratty chair in the hotel's central lobby. This wasn't the best of hotels, so he couldn't just leave her there. Not tonight, not after what had happened.

He'd killed a man today. Killed him to keep him from killing Emily.

It should have been him in the caved in building, prey to a killer, not Emily. He'd been the closest to the suspect when the kid had ran, ran right past Emily.

Spencer had hesitated—he wasn't the athletic one, the one who chased the bad guy and pulled him down.

That was Morgan.

He wasn't the cool, collected ones—the ones who did whatever had to be done without a sweat, without a thought, without a problem. That was Emily and Hotch.

He was the brain, the computer, the encyclopedia. The pipe cleaner with eyes and a gun.

He was Spencer.

He'd frozen, for an instant. Long enough for Emily to get a head start on him. For her to be in pursuit of that son of a bitch.

For her to be the one on the roof of that third story building when it collapsed. For her the one to be unconscious in the rubble with a fanatical killer standing over her.

He'd watched his colleague, his friend, watched her fall right before his eyes. He'd peered over the edge and seen her laying ten feet below him with rubble and dust swirling all around, unconscious and bloody.

But the UNSUB wasn't injured, he'd barely looked scratched. And he was standing over Emily, pulling a knife from her charcoal fatigues.

Then Spencer hadn't hesitated. He'd pulled his weapon and identified himself, but the man had persisted. He'd bent down, grabbed Emily by the hair.

Wrapped his fist in the long brown locks that Spencer knew normally smelled of strawberry shampoo. The knife had lowered, getting closer to her throat.

And Spencer fired. Three times. Just like Hotch had taught him to do. Then he climbed—fallen—down the ten feet to get to Emily. He'd wrenched his shoulder, but he considered it a fair price to pay. So he didn't complain.

He didn't regret taking that shot. But he'd always regret that he wasn't a second faster in chasing the bastard. It should have been him.

But now here he stood, staring down at his sleeping friend, eyes scanning her pale face, taking in the two loose braids her hair had been woven into—most likely by Garcia.

He couldn't really see Emily choosing to wear school-girl braids, although they did make her look younger. With her eyes closed, Emily lost the intensity that fueled her, making Spencer aware that maybe she was vulnerable after all.

He'd never seen Emily Prentiss vulnerable—with the exception of the Joseph Smith case, and the whack she'd taken with a 2 X 4, But that didn't count because she'd still managed to give the signal for the rest of the team to get the guy.

Emily Prentiss was like one of those comic book characters he'd read about as a child. Always strong, always doing what's right, always standing up for the innocent.

But tonight she sat, vulnerable, in a hotel that wasn't all that safe. So Spencer Reid paid his penance, and sat with her.

Garcia found him there an hour later, sitting and staring at Prentiss as if she was a magic bean ready to sprout. "Hey handsome, the crowd in the room got a little thin so I thought I'd come find two of my favorite people."

"Hey Garcia." Spencer really didn't feel like talking.

"She ok?"

"Sleeping. Probably from the medication." Spencer said.

"Good, my little chickadee needs to sleep. I have a feeling she doesn't get enough. Why aren't you out? That shoulder has to hurt."

"I, uh, didn't want to take anything. I'm really struggling, Garcia." Spencer admitted freely, knowing his confidence wouldn't go any further.

There were two people—maybe three, if he counted Hotch—whom he knew he could be absolutely frank with, and two of them were right in the room with him.

"The case? Or is it something more, my handsome gray matter?"

"I hesitated."

"What?" Garcia asked, "You took the shot. Everyone agreed it was a good shoot."

"He, uh, ran right by me. And I could have taken him down. But I hesitated and Emily ran after him. It should have been me that fell through the ceiling, Garcia."

"Nonsense. Things happen for a reason, Spencer Reid. And I saw the roof's security tape. You did not hesitate, not that I could see, and not when it mattered. You saved her life."

"It shouldn't have been her. I'm the one who always needs saving, Garcia. Never her. It shouldn't have been her. It wouldn't have been her but for me. I can't forget that."

"I think she probably has." Garcia said, wisely. "She's probably grateful you weren't the one who fell through that roof. They said she was lucky—had she weighed anymore she might have broken through those beams she landed on. You would have. It would have been much worse for you, Spence. Do you honestly think that would have been better for Emily to see? You know how much she cares about you—and Emily Prentiss is nothing if not protective of those she cares about."

"I've never seen her vulnerable like that. Unconscious. I was certain she was dead, but inside I knew that wasn't possible."

"She's human, Reid. We all are." Garcia paused, "Although, she does look a bit like Wonder Woman with the hair."

"But not the costume, or the lasso of truth. I can see Emily saying 'the only thing that can surpass our superior strength is our brain,' but I can't imagine her wearing that costume." Spencer laughed softly.

"You know what, sugar. Whenever I see you guys, watch you work, hear you talk, see what you actually do. I think of Super Heroes. My own little Justice League. What you all do is extraordinary. But no one of you is more super than the others. Emily would have done the exact same thing no matter how you replay the situation in your head, even if she knew what would have happened. Just to keep you safe."

"But I've never seen her like that. She was so still."

"I may not be a profiler, gorgeous, but I can honestly say you can't admit she's human because you see her as larger than life, as a sort of mother or big sister figure. Someone who knows the answers to things, someone who cares for you. Children can never admit their parents are weak—in any way. That's why you're so upset."

"Do I think of her in a motherly fashion?" Spencer asked, "I've never really thought about it."

"Do. She tells you the truth, doesn't she? Coddles you when you need it—I've seen her do it to both you and JJ—protects you, does little things to make things easier. Emily needs somebody to fuss over, and you and JJ provide that for her. So she wins, too."

"It is hard, to see her this way. I've never seen her or Hotch hurt or hurting like that. I've seen Rossi, Gideon, even Morgan—but never Emily or Hotch."

"Like I said, kids don't like to admit that Mommy and Daddy are weak at times, too."

"That sounds, so wrong. I'm twenty seven years old, Garcia. And they're my colleagues." Spencer protested, though he knew the non-profiler had nailed his views perfectly.

"Umm. But we have formed a family, kiddo. Just look at us. We have Morgan who makes a great big brother, JJ is the sweet sister who everybody absolutely loves, Rossi's like the mysterious uncle who has done literally everything. You're the little brother we love and admire, and have to tease and protect because that's what siblings do. I'm somewhere in the middle, the goofy one who makes you all smile. The class clown, the jokester whom everyone knows not to take too seriously. That leaves the parents—who's job it is to take care of us. And they do it unthinkingly, like parents should. I'll admit, it is hard for us to see them as vulnerable. They are—but they're also incredibly strong. Superman and Wonder Woman."

"So we're a family of super heroes?" Spencer laughed, his mind replaying all the comic books he'd ever read. "If she's Wonder Woman and Hotch is Superman, what about the rest of us?"

"Honey, I've figured it all out. JJ, of course, is the Blonde Bombshell—the Black Canary who uses her voice to mystify, Derek is the sexiest superhero, aka Batman. Rossi's Captain Marvel because he's just seen so much, and me—I'm the Invisible Woman. Because all my work is done when no one can see me." Penelope smirked at the younger man beside her. Wonder Woman still hadn't woken.

"And me?" Spencer was almost afraid to ask where he fit in this family of super heroes.

"Sugar, you're the best of the lot—you're Mr. Fantastic."

"Dr. Reed Richards." Reid had to laugh. "Tall and stretchy?"

"And a super genius. Not exactly a big jump, is it." Garcia grinned. "Now we should probably get back to the hotel room. Before Daddy realizes we've ran away with Mommy."

"True, but how we going to get Wonder Woman back to the room? I can't exactly be Mr. Fantastic and manfully carry her." He motioned to the sling around his hand and shoulder.

"I guess we'll just have to call Superman or Batman to come get her." Garcia winked. "But my money's on Superman flying to the rescue."

"You've seen it, too?"

"What, the way Daddy's been watching Mommy lately?" Garcia's laugh was low and maniacal.

"I thought I was the only one who saw it." Spencer admitted, "I thought I was just seeing things—I'm not too good about the relationship stuff."

"Honey, the only ones who've not caught on—Superman and Wonder Woman themselves."

"What the hell you two talkin about at three in the morning?" A sleepy, rumpled Derek asked as he came into the lobby. Half the team had been missing and he'd gotten concerned.

"Super heroes. And families, stud muffin. What are you doin up?" She had to admit he looked pretty good all sleepy eyed and cuddly, even though she was immensely loyal to Kevin. A girl could look as long as she had eyes, after all.

"Worried. You three disappeared."

"We were just debating how to get Wonder Woman here back to the room without waking her up. Mr. Fantastic is out of commission in the carrying department. You up to it, Batman?"

"Carry a pretty lady to a hotel room?" He teased. "My momma raised me better than that."

"Make an exception." Garcia ordered. "Or I'll email your momma a picture of you with that 'Halloween' honey you met last year—photoshopped into a nice tux and gown."

"You are a wicked, wicked woman." Derek said as he moved to pick the sleeping dark haired woman up. "I think we need to feed Prentiss a little more."

"She is a bit skinny, isn't she?" Reid asked. He didn't fully understand the looks of irony the two shot his way. "You don't really notice until she's not actually moving."

His mind shot back to the roof, shot back to seeing her lying so still in the arms of a killer. He ruthlessly pushed the image away.

They entered the small, hellish hotel room as quietly as they could, Morgan carrying his precious bundle. He stopped between the two beds and looked down at JJ sleeping so peacefully then looked at Garcia as she climbed in the bed on the other side. They were going to be hopelessly crowded in that bed. A pregnant JJ and a wounded Emily, at least, needed a decent night's sleep. "You know, Hotch has all that wasted room. Shame we can't make use of it."

"I say we do." Garcia said, enthusiastically, even though she whispered.

"I don't know, guys, who knows what they'll think when they wake up." Reid said, nervously.

"Just do it and go to bed, Derek. It's late," JJ mumbled from her spot, as Spencer retreated to the bathroom. They hadn't even realized she was awake.

"Ok," Derek mentally shrugged as Garcia reached over and pulled the cover back, revealing Hotch's FBI issue t-shirt. Even in his sleep he broadcasted his occupation. Derek lowered the woman onto the pullout mattress, arranging her head on half of the other man's pillow. He had to admit they looked good together. Strange it had taken him so long to notice.

He turned to head back to his own bed when a quiet male voice stopped him. It was so quiet he doubted anyone else had heard it. "I see you found her. Thanks, Derek."

"Anytime, Hotch. Good night."

Spencer came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, having taken a shower to relieve some of the heat. Everyone was sound asleep as he stretched out on the floor beside the pullout couch, near to Emily.

He'd stay close in case she needed to haunt the hotel again before morning. It was what Super Heroes did—protecting the vulnerable.

Even Superman and Wonder Woman had their weaknesses, he thought as he looked at the two older agents snuggled tight to each other—he just wondered if they knew what theirs were.

He did. And he kind of liked where he fit in the grander scheme of their strange little family. Their own Justice League.

He rather liked that image.