Those Campbell Boys

Characters: Dean, Spencer, Morgan, Sam, Castiel, Garcia, ensembles, OCs.

Ratings: Strong R for graphic violence, language and sexual themes and abuse

Warnings/Spoilers: Up to current seasons.

Disclaimer: I don't own canon characters and they remain the property of their original owners.

Summary: When a demon attacks one of the team members, an impossible world opens up for another and a mother's secrets will change everything. Post Season 5 finales for both shows.

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Chapter One

And it so Began in the Same Way . . .

Note making was the most tedious part of the job, or so he'd been told. Emily, Derek, Rossi: all had voiced their displeasure at one point in time or another regarding the last and most necessary part of a case. JJ was spared most of it as media liaison and Garcia was lucky in that all her work was simultaneously documented and recorded in real time on the machinery she worked on. The only one he had never heard complain was Hotch but Hotch never complained about anything, ever. His long-suffering was so silent as to be non-existent. Spencer knew he was the only member of his team that actually liked this part of the process.

He understood the source of his colleagues' displeasure, locked in the tedium and repetition of words and actions, but he also appreciated why it was considered the core and essential part of a case. Yes, catching an unsub before he or she can continue their actions was important but the Federal Bureau of Investigation operated as the principal investigative arm of the United States Department of Justice. Justice didn't end in the catching of a criminal, it began. Justice was encapsulated in the judicial process, the trying and conviction of the guilty that could not function with only the arrest of a suspect. If the notes in a case were lacking then that very same unsub who was caught with so much thought, manpower and at times, blood sacrifice, would make their way out of lockup before formal charges could be brought. That scenario left no one safer and most likely left society at large worse off than before the unsub was caught.

Those were the thoughts that occupied Dr. Spencer Reid's mind whenever the tedium did start to get to him. He joined the bureau at twenty years old filled with the same ideals and protracted thinking so he could keep his eyes on what was most important in the work he did and so he could understand his place in it.

He took painstaking notes in longhand on his commute from Quantico to his apartment in Washington, DC on those nights right after the close of a case. The plane would land, as much work that could be done would be done at the office but when he knew sleep was creeping up on him, he waved goodnight to whoever was left, Phil the janitor and Hotch in his office, sometimes Morgan who occasionally suffered bouts of insomnia and sometimes Prentiss stayed with him when she likewise suffered bouts of loneliness.

Spencer would catch his train and uncomfortably relive, in the crystal clear theater of his detail-oriented mind, the entire case from the moment JJ pulled the file to the moment an arrest was made or the coroner was called. On the integrity of those notes, cases were won, convictions were leveled, and the Office of Professional Responsibility was kept at bay.

On reaching his condo which flanked Chinatown, Spencer would input his information into the computer program Garcia had written for the team so they could work their data entry from home. Everything had operated as it always had except when Spencer turned on his monitor all he got in return was a stark blue screen.

"Ouch," Derek said the next morning with a half stifled yawn. "Blue screen of doom."

Absently pouring enough sugar into his coffee to make it a paste, Spencer began, "I did everything the manual said to do in that situation—"

"The 'manual' wants you to contact tech support, especially if your warranty is up." The BAU offices were still relatively empty as the workday wouldn't start for another half hour. Hotch was already in his office taking phone calls.

"I was on with the support team until three but they couldn't figure out what was going on."

Morgan looked him over, "Three? I went to bed at two and I feel like a zombie."

Spencer gestured to his mug, "You want me to make you some?"

"Um," Derek contemplated the instant and torturous death of his pancreas. "That's okay, kid. Thanks."

Spencer took a sip of his coffee and screwed up his face in disgust. He added more sugar. "They said I'll probably have to buy a new one."

"Of course they did," Derek said, rolling his eyes. "You know what you need?"

"A functioning computer?"

"A house call from Garcia," he said, just as the elevator doors beyond the glass walls opened and in walked a morning-ready Penelope Garcia. Catching her eye before she turned down the hall to go to her office, Derek went to the door and opened it for her. "Good morning, Baby Girl."

"Good morning, Sugar," she said with a bright, red-lipped smile. In one ear was a coconut shaped earring and in the other was a pineapple. He had two guesses what she would be craving come happy hour. "Is this call business or pleasure? Just note you get a cookie if you say pleasure."

"Our boy's got computer problems," he explained.

Narrowing her eyes and looking over Derek's shoulders to Reid she hummed. "Der, Reid can do anything that doesn't involve females," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Blue screen."

"Oh!" She said, instantly understanding, walking past him and going to Reid. "When hardware and software collude, it's a sad sad day."

Spencer's brows went up, "I'm not sure there was any collusion involved."

She reached out, holding his free hand in a sign of support, explaining, "The blue screen is a harmony of complete system failure."

Confirming what he'd heard from the tech support team the night before, Spencer nodded, "I'll get a new computer."

"Heck no! Sweetie, I can fix that up no problemo," she beamed, moving past him and going towards his work machine.

"Oh, it's my desktop at home," he said before she reached his desk.

Stopping in her tracks, Garcia could barely control the expansive smile that practically took over her entire face and she slowly turned back towards him with a manic gleam in her eyes. "Your place?"

Spencer frowned and mumbled, "Huh?"

"It's just, I've never been to your place and I'm fifteen shades past curious by now. Der's the only one who's ever seen it and whenever we ask about it—"

"You guys ask about it?"

"—he acts like he took the vow of Omertà—"

Derek interjected, "I do not." Though he knew he did and he enjoyed the reactions he always got from Rossi and the ladies.

"—and now I get to join the Cabal!"

"Baby Girl, you sound way too happy about that," Derek laughed.

"There's really not that much to see—" Spencer explained as she walked back towards the glass doors.

"Uh huh," she said, dismissing his words.

"It's just a regular condominium—"

"Yeah, sure," she nodded. "Barring a torrent of homicidal crazy people and a case that requires our Go bags, I will pick you up, Dr. Reid, at five sharp." And with that, she was gone.

Spencer stood there in the middle of the office wondering what had just happened. He turned to Morgan and only said, "When did my apartment become a conspiracy?"

Derek hummed on his way to his desk, "When I made it one."

Posters Note:

This story is a repost. This story is not mine. This story was written and posted by: L. Marie Benjamin AKA Eliza Something. It is the best Supernatural or Criminal Minds story I have yet to encounter. It is also one of the best stories I have ever read of all time, including things like Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings. Unfortunately the author disappeared some time ago, and the story was removed from the site. Thankfully the story can still be found online, its just well hidden on livejournal so that unless you know it and are looking for it you would never encounter it. I am reposting it here for 3 reasons.

#1: I think that it is simply too good not to be made available to the online community. (Read the TV Tropes pages on Better than canon; and Sturgeon's Law, this is the 10%).

#2 If the original author is still out there, and I hope she is, maybe she'll reach out to me and open a dialogue. I had some good conversations with her on this site before she disappeared, and would love to re-establish contact. If she says to remove the story then I will without hesitation. If she is motivated to continue writing it then great. I have looked around but have been unable to find a way to contact her (I'm not a huge computer wiz so if someone else found a way to contact her then please PM me!)

#3 It is widely believed that Johann Sebastian Bach passed away before completing 'The Art of Fugue'. Whether this is the truth or he just simple lost interest, centuries later you can now listen to a completed version. The ending is composed by individuals that did their very best to do Bach's last masterpiece justice by studying and copying his style. Those Campbell Boys is also an incomplete masterpiece. If (Heaven forbid) Eliza doesn't turn up and some other writer steps up and creates an ending to this epic I know I would be ecstatic. I just hope it doesn't take centuries.

Please enjoy!

-Majorshane