PARAKLETE

Chapter 1

A/N: A CONTINUATION FROM THE LAST FIC. NON CON/SLASH

They lay in the warm sweet comfort of an old barn.

Shafts of wintery light playing with dust motes.

The two forms lay entwined at the edge of the large outbuilding. The Taller one with his legs drawn up tight to his chest…the smaller man behind him with his arms wrapped around his companion and one of his legs bent up and pressed hard against the young man's back.

The one in front has his eyes closed and the gentle rise and fall of his chest looks safe and comforting and calm. The one behind is staring out into the dim light of the barn. Occasionally blinking dust from watery eyes. Every few minutes his hand would come to his face and wipe away the dampness attempting to escape from the corners of his eyes.

Then one hand begins to play gently with the hair of the taller one. Twisting it gently and caringly around his fingers….watching carefully each strand of hair as it laces around dirty filth encrusted hands.

So many things he needed to say….but Spencer was awake now and so the words would have to stay inside him. He cant let anyone know this vulnerability of his. This desire…more than that…this need…He needs Spencer to stay alive. They are part of the same thing….They are and always will be bonded.

Yet still he had to be careful. He has to protect. He has to keep Spencer away from the others who try to corrupt this pureness. He can feel the bubbling in the chest….and hear the gentle wheezing in and out of those damages but slowly…with his help…healing lungs.

As Spencer moaned softly in his sleep, Floyd comforted him again with gentle kisses on the back of his neck and calming gentle sounds… "It's OK babes….I have you…everything will be alright." And as the warm breath drifts over the weaker man's the other relaxed and the dream stops alarming Reid and he drifts back into gentle slumber.

-o-o-o-

He was going to be fine.

More than anything it was shock.

His skin had been burned but nothing which would leave permanent scars…he was lucky…or Flanders knew exactly what he was doing. Rossi stood by Hotch's bed with his hands in his pockets and looked at the man who led the team. They needed to know what to do next. Reid had gone…Flanders had disappeared too…it didn't take the genius to tell them that they were together…though if voluntary or through force they didn't know.

Morgan standing at the foot of the bed looked over the chart hanging there…but the medical notes didn't mean an awful lot to him….Only that red alarming numbers were now in black and they were spaced further apart. Less numbers…not in red…had to be a good thing.

"We need to find Reid." Morgan was not letting this thing drop. "That sonofabitch has him."

Hotch turned his head slowly to look at Rossi. The signs that he is in pain evident in his eyes…not just physical pain. "Dave…pull the team back together…we are still on a case."

Dave nodded slowly. "We are sorely depleted Hotch. I will talk to Strauss about getting this case assigned to another team. We need to heal. We need to repair. You need to repair."

Aaron closed his eyes and turned his head to look away from his friend. The pain in his heart too much. He didn't want to show them how much Flanders had damaged him…not just physically…but emotionally and he didn't want to see the fear he had for Spencer to show in his eyes.

"I'll be off then." Morgan's voice. He turned and began the slow walk from the hospital room. "There will be guards on your door Hotch. There is nothing to worry about."

But there was plenty to worry about. They hadn't seen what that mad creature could do…two uniformed cops at the door weren't going to stop him…and the images going through his head of what he might be doing to Spencer weren't ones he was willing to share.

They had wanted to use a rape kit on him but Aaron refused. He could tell what happened…and there had only been one other person in the room…He held no doubts in his heart as to what the creep did to him when he was unconscious. Though why he would was beyond him. They had found traces of semen and other bodily fluids on the bathroom floor…some his own…the semen was unknown. So did the monster stand and masturbate as he watched him writing in pain? What the hell sort of mentality caused a man to do that? And the fact that he had taken Spencer…he was trying to force that as what happened into him mind thought there was no proof.

Reid was gone.

The nurse was dead.

There was no sign that anyone else had been there. As a crime scene the place was taped off and being checked for all and everything….but so far there was no sign that Flanders had been there. At least there was no sign that he had stood and masturbated over Reid's slumbering form….A small….very small comfort.

-o-o-o-

"Babes." He breathed the word over Reid's ear and saw with satisfaction the way though still sleeping…Spencer shuddered and moved his hand to the side of his face…a sudden deep breath from his though and Floyd could feel him tense up with the pain. He needed to fix him.

But not yet.

There was something very special about seeing the man he lived for being in so much pain. He loved the taste of the sickly sweat on his skin. He loved the vulnerable way he was existing for now…He needed Floyd…and Floyd loved that.

"We have to make a move soon Spence. We cant stay here."

And slowly Reid began to awaken.

Laying in the soft hay with the gentle scent drifting up his nose for a while he wondered where he was. He frowned as confusion tried to swallow him up…but there was no mistaking the hands pressed needingly against his chest or the words being directed gently across his ear. "We need to go sweets…before the farmer knows we are here." And so slowly Spencer moves his aching body away from the comfort of the arms and legs and rolls over to face.

He blinks as he looks at the form which had been holding him. Floyd looked ill. He looked small and dirty and ill. Slowly Spencer reached out and touched the sallow skin on the side of Floyd's face. Flanders just blinked back in response.

"You don't look well." And now Reid's fingers were following the line of Floyds perfectly formed mouth. "What happened?"

The mouth licked at the fingers and twitched almost into a smile. "I just got a bit down on my luck for a while. I'm fine….it's you – you.." and he took the hand which had been probing his face and kissed the back of his hand. "I worry about you."

Spencer swallowed and took another deep breath…and this time Floyd could see the look of pain which accompanied it. This time though Reid started to cough…and Floyd watched with a frown as Reid rolled to his front and pushed to his hands and knees and started a long session of hacking and coughing…He watched the man he thought he probably loved spit out dark red clumps of blood and though he knew how much pain it was causing Spencer…though he knew it was slowly destroying the younger man's lungs…though he had this information…and knew full well that Reid should be in hospital…he was enjoying it. He could reach out and gently rub at Spencer's back. He could be the caregiver and the comforter…Reid would rely on him for everything if he kept him at this level of sickness….

As long as he could fuck him and not kill him.

But then again….

It made Floyds stomach clench and the hairs on the back of his hands stand on end…and with Reid on his hands and knees and able to do much about it….and as he was still in hospital wear…He got to his knees and whilst Reid coughed and sweated and shook trying to get his lungs to draw in a new lot of air…Floyd moved in behind.

"Just tell me if you don't want this." A generous offer as he knew Reid wouldn't be able to say no….

Flanders slid his hands up the back of Reid's pyjama top and with one hand holding Spencer's shoulder he used to other to ready himself and then Reid. He knew…he could feel the small bit of resistance…he could feel the other man trying to pull away from him….if he listened to Reid and not his own harsh lust filled breaths he would have heard the word "no." but he didn't…or if he did he chose to ignore it.

He could feel the invasion…and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was still struggling to breathe…to pull air into his weakening body…he couldn't fight off Flanders too. He could feel the hands touching him and working him…and he knew he was responding in a manner satisfactory to Floyd…but personally this wasn't enjoyment…this was rape….

A few times he managed to say the word " no" and "stop" but Floyd couldn't hear. He assumed that he took the shuddering of his body as pleasure not as fear and pain. As dark stars began to shoot over his vision…and as the room took on the sickly grey look and Spencer could feel his body giving up the fight…he felt the hands move to his hips and hold him in place.

"Stop – please."

But the words went unheeded as Spencer slipped into unconsciousness…and Floyd slipped into Spencer.

How perfect.

He stopped resisting.

He stopped breathing too…………………

-o-o-o-

Rossi sat next to Hotch who was slowly recovering from the physical wounds Flanders had given him but he was not stupid …he knew more had gone on than Hotch was letting on and he knew that Reid's sudden departure from their everyday lives was bothering him more than he was trying to show.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rossi offered.

"Talk about it?" Hotch sounded so tired. The pain was slowly wearing off but it had taken a lot out of him.

"You are due to go home tomorrow. You can stay with me. I would like you to stay with me."

Hotch's home was a smoking shell still…The insurance company was being stubborn paying up…and until some movement happened in that direction he wasn't able to find a new home. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to take away the image again of Reid trapped in that back room…He wanted to blame Flanders for it….he was desperate to pin that on him…but there was no evidence that he was in any way involved in the fire.

"That would be good." He finally said. He needed to be cleared so he could return to work. Laying healing in hospital was not Aaron's favourite pastime. Actually what he needed to do was find Spencer. If there was a Spencer to find anymore. He wasn't sure if there was.

Now that any probable infections had cleared and his skin was peeling off nicely he was feeling a lot better…though he probably looked worse. He had to keep his skin covered in a slimy gook and he was definitely not cleared to return to work. His mind though was the slowest to heal.

"Any news?" His voice was a sigh.

He didn't have to ask news of what…everyday he asked the same question…every day for a month and always the same answer. A slow shake of the head and the words. "Nothing yet." But how hard were they looking? Surely two men as distinctive as Reid and Flanders would be easy to find. They were in a stolen vehicle which had never been seen again and one of them was ill…how can they not be found?

Hotch sighed again and looked over at Rossi. "I want that Flanders."

"He will be found." Fiddling with the news paper.

"Dave – he will kill Reid. He has to be found."

"He attacked you Aaron. He will be found and he will be punished for it. I promise."

But Hotch knew it was an empty promise.

"And Spencer?"

He got a shrug in return. "We need to find them first Aaron. We don't even know if Reid is ……" He stopped and just looked at Aaron. "And we don't know if he went voluntarily."

Hotch nodded. "Then you need to – we need to….someone needs to find them!"

Rossi stood up. "I think by being here I am just getting you agitated. I'll be back tomorrow with something you can wear back to my place."

Hotch nodded…he could feel tears of anger and frustration building up in his eyes….he didn't want Rossi to see this….but Flanders took Reid from the hospital a full month ago. His heart doubted he would see Reid again…not the Reid he wanted to see anyway.

-o-o-o-

A small overgrown house.

Until the past few weeks no one had lived there for a while.

It stood at the very back of a small clearing which used to be the lush gardens of a huge house – long ago fallen down…burned down…abandoned. All that was left was the basement rooms…the over grown gardens…and this…this small gardeners cottage right at the back. The gardens themselves had become part of the forest. A small area of about one hundred foot around the cottage was cleared of all but stubbly grass and a few wild flowers….it was on this grass that Floyd sat and smoked. He as stripped down to shirt and jeans…his bare toes curled up and felt the cold dampness of the grass. Behind him in the cottage was a few old rooms…One of them had a large old iron bedstead with a sagging dirty mattress and it was on this that Spencer lay. He was on his side…one leg out straight and the other bent up close to his chest. One arm was bent and curled protectively around his head and the other was tucked up under his chin. He lay with his eyes open staring out at the dim light of the fading day…the only sound was the continual wheezing of his chest and the occasional cough.

He knew he was getting worse. He had thought Floyd would help him, but he hadn't and he wasn't going to ask. He knew Floyd was angry, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was that had made him so annoyed with everything.

Floyd hardly spoke to him. He gave him food….he gave him water…he offered smokes and drugs…but he didn't offer the comfort he needed. Night after night he lay alone on the stinking bed listening to his own breathing, afraid to sleep in case Floyd wasn't there to wake him up if he began to struggle. Time after time he felt the weight of Flanders behind him…taking him like some blow up doll…like a sex toy…not the friend or lover he had wanted. He had tried talking to Floyd. He had tried asking what was wrong….but in return got fists to his face and then left to think about what filth he was…what scum he was….what a perverted freak he was….alone…

Flanders sat and smoked….

He lay down and snorted powders up his nose. He listened to the sound on Spencer's laboured breaths and did nothing to help him.

Floyd would stand for hours in his filthy clothes with a drink in his hand or a smoke or both…and he would listen to the bubbling of Spencer's breathing….watch the man he thought he loved slowly dying. He could heal him…but he wanted…wanted more first. He wanted so much to be gentle…to caress and kiss and lick and love….but only ever managed to hurt and maim. So now he sat on the grass – and considered what to do next.