THE SALVATION

a/n: Bad language in context and stuff. Please don't read if you think this will offend you. Perhaps maybe probably very likely but not fully certain… SLASH. Thank you XOX

It is more noble to give yourself completely to one individual than to labor diligently for the salvation of the masses: ~ Dag Hammarskjold

Reid

It's been a while now. They say time heals but really I don't think it does. It may allow you to adapt but some things just scab over and sit there waiting for you to knock the scab or get an itch and you're right back to where you started again. A couple of years. That's a long time. One day Floyd was here living with me and the next he was gone. 'I'm going to travel for a while. I need to get my head clear of the shit.' That's what he told me but I'd known for a few months that things had changed. It had been well over a year since he'd raised a hand to me. Well over a year since he'd don't much at all to me in fact. The relationship didn't come to a big nasty blood splattered ending, it just faded away. I don't know what's better. I don't know if I'd have felt better about things if I'd thought it was something I'd done… I really don't know.

I'm back at work again. Things feel oddly settled. I can go to work and not have to keep my head down and hide my bruises. I don't have to keep taking days off sick so that they wont see what Floyd had done with his fists over the weekend. I can ask people back and we can relax knowing that Floyd wasn't going to come barging in through the doors fit to kill anyone who'd spoken to me.

I am so bored.

Yes the job keeps me busy but now that's all I have. I don't want to end up with no one to go home to. I don't want to spend the rest of my life having my back getting cold in the bed. In one respect I know I am safe yet in another I have lost something which made me feel safe. Even though that thing would beat me and drug me. I still knew that if anyone else ever hurt me that they'd pay.

I guess it's time to grow up and stop needing that someone to keep my back safe.

I got shot and I really was expecting Floyd to turn up and cause havoc but nothing. Not a damned thing… then six months ago I get a post card. The type with a picture on the front.

Wish you were here.

That's what it said. I knew the hand writing. A post card from Venice. I raised it to my face and sniffed at it to see if there was a remnant of his smell still there but there wasn't. The following month I got a postcard again. The same message on the back. This time from Paris. Then I got some in rapid succession… Rome, London, Berlin, Moscow, Madrid… and then some places in southern Italy and then one from New York. They all had the same message on them. I put each one in a big envelope in the desk drawer. I didn't want someone coming across these. I would be asked all sorts of prying questions. Questions which I don't want to answer.

A case of a woman snatching babies from hospitals. All the babies were found and the woman arrested. She will need help. The woman was ill. She had seven babies aged between six months and two weeks. At least the children found their way home. And that's what I intended on doing. Just going home and snuggling up into my own sweet world of books and coffee.

I knew something was wrong as I pulled out my key to put in the lock. Someone had been here. There were marks on my door. I'd had it revamped after Floyd left, but now there were new scratches on it. Deep scratches. I just stood there for a while and ran my fingers over the door and wondered if I'd be better off just leaving again and finding a room somewhere else for the night, but curiosity forced me to unlock the door and walk in. The door wasn't double locked and the alarm had been turned off and if I'd not been able to smell that stink of cheroots I would have pulled out my gun, but I knew who was here. I closed the door behind me, pulled off my bag and walked down to the lounge were a very pale looking Floyd was sitting with a bottle of red wine and a frown.

'Oh you decided to come home then?' He snapped at me.

'I've been working.' I should ask him where he's been and what he's doing here but I don't. 'Do you want a coffee?' I guess I know where he's been. He's been sending my postcards. I don't feel I need to ask.

'No… no coffee… just sit. I've something I want to talk about.' He points at my chair.

He wants to talk about something. He's been gone all this time and suddenly feels the need to talk? Maybe I don't. 'Well I need a coffee.' I turned my back and walked back to the kitchen. I hear his footsteps on the wooden floor behind me, but he's not getting too close.

'I don't want you to think that I've come here for something.' He tells me. 'Well actually… forget that. Spence… I need something.'

I ignore him. He's spoken half a dozen words and most of them lies. What's the point in listening further?

'Are you listening to me? Did you get my postcards?'

I put a mug on the counter and turn to look at him. He looks worried. 'OK… I'm listening. Hurry up and say what it is you want to say and then leave. You're not welcome here anymore. Yes I got the postcards. Looks like you've been having fun.'

'Just visiting family mostly. Nothing exciting. But I'm back and something has gone awry with Sam.'

Great. He's got a problem with the brat from Hell and he's come to me to talk about it? Why? 'Sam? What's wrong?' I try to be understanding. I really do try.

'There's this thing going on. I went to the local cops and they'll not listen to me. I cant explain it to them Spence. I know you'll understand though. He's been at college. Doing really well. Keeping down a part time job and keeping off the drugs mostly… but still he's a whore. But you cant have everything in life can you. But yeah… Sam's doing well… at least he was until this shit started happening.'

'If Sam is in trouble there's not much I can do to help Floyd. You need to speak to someone who can offer you proper advice. I've never had children. I don't understand them.'

Floyd is shaking his head though. 'Up until eight months ago Sam was getting top grades in everything and anything he touched. He's a genius. But you know that. You know.' Floyd started to walk back to the lounge now that I had my coffee. He sat on the couch and picked up the bottle of wine again. 'Then things started to slip. He was missing classes, grades dropped. He got fired from his job.'

'Drugs?' I asked.

Again Floyd was shaking his head. 'You know I could understand this all if it was drugs but it's not. He stopped whoring. If it was just Sam I'd just shrug it off and slap him around, but it's not. I did some research… actually I hacked the college computer network and there's loads of kids doing the same. The top kids… all missing classes… grades dropping… socialisation has all but stopped… Now I know… I also know that college kids get up to no good sometimes but it's not just the kids Spence. Some of the tutors seem to be going the same way… not coming into work. Failing to mark assignments, or to set them in the first place. I cant go and ask questions Spence. The cops wont listen to me. I have spoken to Sam though and he wont explain. All he'll tell me is if he doesn't purge and if he doesn't ask for forgiveness then he will be damned.'

I sip at my coffee and listen. 'Is it a religious thing he's gotten involved with?' I ask him.

'Spence! Fuck Spence! Put your sodding brain in will you! Sam is a fucking demon… he's not even bloody human! How the fuck can something which was created in hell for me to sodomise be anything but damned? And he bloody well knows that. It's something else. I know it is but he'll not talk to me about it. He wont explain. I know it's going to fucking kill him. I need someone to investigate it Spencer and the cops wont listen. How can I tell them that Sam wouldn't be praying to god for salvation cos he's a fucking demon? I cant! I cant…'

I nod slowly because really I don't know what else to say. I sip some more at my drink and then frown. 'I don't know how I can help you Floyd.'

'Fuck.' He replies. 'How do you get those other fuckers involved in something? How can I get them to look at this?'

'You cant. This isn't how it's done. I will tell Hotch what you've told me if you wish, but we cant just plough in there. Maybe you need to talk more to Sam and ask him what's going on.'

Floyd swigs from his bottle and then places it on a coaster on the table. 'Talk to Hotchner for me.' He says. 'Tell him something is going on.'

I shake my head at him and sip more on my coffee. It's not gone un-noticed that Floyd is drinking wine and not his usual whiskey. 'Why don't you just do what you'd normally do and wade in and demand to know? Really it just sounds like he's bored with class.'

Now he stands up and starts pacing. 'I found him a bedsit before I left. He's on a full scholarship at the college. I paid for his place. He just needed spare cash for food. When I got back here from my travels, knowing that he'd been fucking up his education once again, I went to see him and ask what the fuck was going on. Spence… you'd hardly recognise him. He was living in filth. I mean filth. He'd stopped using the bathroom for anything. If it'd just been washing he'd lapsed on I'd maybe have understood, but… well, I found him naked, crouched facing the wall surrounded by small empty boxes, shit, piss and vomit. His back… fuck Spence. I'd like to say he was living like an animal but even an animal doesn't sit in his shit and scourge his own back. I've taken him back to my place for now, but he wont talk to me Spence. Just keeps on saying that he needs to clean himself and punish himself for his salvation. Now look…' Floyd slapped a folder on the table, '…just look. Sam wasn't the first to start acting oddly. I've delved a little bit. Sam seems to be the worst afflicted though probably because he knows he cant be what he thinks he needs to be.'

I pick up the manila file and look at the lists of numbers and names Floyd has collected. I can see easily the declining numbers written by names but this happens in all colleges and all jobs and walks of life. It's not really that unusual. Especially if Sam is the only one acting out as badly as Floyd says he is. 'Maybe Sam just needs to be seen by a professional.' I suggest. 'Really Floyd there's nothing I can do.'

He flops back down onto the couch again. 'Then come and see for yourself. Have a look at what's going on. You ask him what the fuck he thinks he's playing at and see if you can get any sense out of him cos I sure as hell on wheels cant.'

I want to know where he's really been. I want to know why he's been away so long. I don't want to sit here and talk about Sam. 'Why were you in Europe?' I finally after finishing my coffee and fiddling with the papers again.

'They advised that I went. Things were happening too fast Spence. Things were going so very wrong. Too much too quickly. It couldn't carry on like that. I didn't want it to carry on like that. I wanted things back how they were. I've had an upgrade so to speak. A personality upgrade. I think I'm more in control again now. I was a fucking mess.'

'As was I.' I snap at him. 'I need more coffee. You say you've got your own place?' I get up to top up my mug.

'Across town, yes my own place. Look, I cant stay… I don't like leaving Sam alone. I know he'll not wander off. I don't think he's got the strength to walk away if he wanted to. I had to carry him. I don't know when he last ate.'

A personality upgrade. Maybe that means I'll get out of this meeting without a black eye? Now that would be interesting. 'Well leave then.' I tell him. 'Go and check up on Sam. Leave me an address or phone number so I can at least contact you if I discover something, but honestly a few kids dropping out of school wont get the BAU interested.'

'But maybe it will get you interested?' He picks up his bottle and walks towards the door. 'Maybe there's the same pattern at other colleges? Perhaps that techie can look into it sort of off the record?'

'Floyd… people drop out of college all the time. This isn't that alarming. The only thing which is alarming is the state Sam is in and maybe that has nothing to do with anything but the fact that he's a person with deep seated emotional problems. It sounds more like he's had a… a, major depressive episode… a breakdown… or he's delusional.'

'Oh he's delusional alright. Come and see him. Come now to my place and see it. No! I've a better idea.' He walks to my desk and scribbles down an address on a bit of paper. 'This is his old place. I'm still paying rent on it. I've touched nothing. Go look for yourself. See what you think. Take a puke bag with you cos it sure as hell in summer stinks like something I cant even describe. Go see.' Another bit of paper is then passed to me. 'And this is my current address.' Take Hotchner with you when you go… not that… fucker Morgan.' He hands me Sam's door key.

I promise him that I'll go look when I have time. Right now though I want to just curl up and try to wake up because I must have fallen asleep somewhere. Floyd wouldn't have been away all this time and them come back asking for help with Sam. Floyd wouldn't leave and not try to get more from me or just take what he wants. I want to wake up and hear the birds sing and not have the stink of his cheroots in my apartment and I don't want those deep scratches in my door. I see him out and again I promise him that when I have time, probably tomorrow, I will pop over to Sam's old place and see what I think. He tells me 'Thank you.' And then he's gone and I'm standing wondering why he didn't beat me or actually why he didn't even touch me. Two years is a long time though. I forgo food or shower for now and curl up on my bed and fall into a deep sleep and when I wake up I can hear birds singing but I can still smell Floyd in my apartment and the folder is still on my coffee table. I don't have work today, so I've slept in and now I'm sitting with more coffee and the folder on my lap again and I wonder if I should at least go and visit the place Sam had been staying in and see if it was really as bad as Floyd made out it was. Knowing his fetish for keeping things clean I strongly doubt it. It's more likely Sam had failed to put his laundry away and there was some dust. Sam, I know had a thing about looking good. I cant think that he'd let himself get as bad as Floyd described. More coffee first though and maybe, just maybe a call to Prentiss.