2

Nice to Meet You

Things do not change; we change

-Henry David Thoreau

Spencer opened his eyes and was very, very, very confused. The hotel room he had fallen asleep in last night was not this one. He'd never slept in a place so rundown in his life. The yellowed curtains gave him no sense of what time of day it was, and he thought he heard movement in the bathroom. He sat up, making a solid attempt to wake up so he could think clearly. Right now his mind was the only weapon he had.

He ran over the events of the previous evening, trying to remember if he left the hotel at any given point. His eidetic memory told him nothing. He sighed, trying to find some logical explanation for this. He ran his hand over his face and winced. He touched his jaw again, more confused than he was before.

"Okay, so it's been at least a month since I've shaved." He whispered. He touched the stubble again, grimacing. The bathroom door opened and he jumped.

"Hey," A man he did not know said. Spencer's eyes grew in horror. "You alright?"

"Yeah," He nodded, his voice rising three octaves. "I'm fine." The man's brows furrowed.

"Are you sure?" He asked cautiously. Spencer nodded again.

"Yeah, I'm, I'm fine. Uh…If you'll excuse me." He darted into the bathroom. He rested his hands on either side of the sink, trying to get his bearings.

Okay, He thought. Let's go over the things we know. One, I am not where I slept last night. Two, there is another man in this room with me. Three, I really hope that nothing happened last night.

He looked up into the mirror and wanted to scream.

"Oh my god, I'm huge!" Was all he managed to choke out. Green eyes that should be brown stared back at him. The stubble he had felt earlier was that of a stranger's face. Across their nose was a spatter of freckles. Biceps bulged under a tight T-shirt. Spencer touched the stomach. "And I'm made out of brick." He shook his head, well, the stranger's head.

His once long hair was now short and spiky. And his ears were entirely too big.

This was not logical. This was impossible, and yet, somehow, it had happened. Somehow he was this person and not himself. Then where was his body? Was the person he was in inside him? Or was he dead and somehow been reincarnated into a bulky homosexual? Or this could possibly be a misunderstanding of sorts?

But how does that explain why I'm in this person?

"Dean?" The man on the other side of the door called. "Are you alright?" Dean. Okay, his new name was Dean.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" He called back.

Is that my voice? Seriously? He shook his head again. Alright, I'm going to open the door. I'm going to open it and pray that I can go find everybody else. Maybe they can find an explanation for this. And maybe I can find my body.

He took another deep breath and grabbed the door knob. He took his time in opening it, and when he did he was looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Where's my brother?"


"Oh my god, I'm twelve!" Dean shook his head, unable to comprehend this. "How in the..? Why the..? I'm gonna..! Holy shit is that my voice?" He touched his throat out of reflex. "Is that seriously my voice? I haven't even hit puberty yet!" He touched his face again. "And I'm baby faced. Great. Absolutely freakin' great!" He paused for a moment, still grimacing at the sight of his new body. "Wallet, I-I need a wallet." He walked out of the bathroom, looking around for something to tell him who he was now. He saw a badge lying on the desk at the front of the room.

"Holy crap, this is real," He marveled, turning it over in his hands. "FBI…What the hell's BAU?" He sat the badge back on the table and went back to his original mission. He saw a bag resting in the corner. "Bingo." He didn't have to dig through it for very long.

"Alright," He said, straightening up and taking out the ID. "I'm twenty seven…Must be in dog years. And my name is Dr. Spencer Reid," He paused. "How in the hell is this kid a doctor already?!" There was knocking on the door.

"Reid!" A voice called. "Lobby, twenty minutes."

"Okay!" Dean called. Footsteps died away. "Crap, I gotta go to work. As an FBI agent. Damn it, I'm the kid I made fun of yesterday!" He shook his head and tossed the wallet on the table next to the badge that was not made at Kinkos. He pushed his hair out of his voice, growing annoyed with having to do so, and started digging through the bag again in an attempt to find something to wear.

"Dork, dork, dork, dork, sweater vests? Are you kidding me!" He dug all the way to the bottom before he found a single pair of dark colored jeans that looked like they had been worn maybe once. "Wow. Now, my kingdom for a damn T-shirt." He dug around some more, and once again, found only one white T-shirt. He sighed and grabbed it and the solid black dress shirt he had passed earlier. Once he put the clothes on he braved the bathroom again, angrily pushing his hair out of his face once more. He rolled up the sleeves of the black shirt out of habit and looked into the mirror.

"Okay, so my sex appeal hasn't been sucked completely dry," He said, hair falling in his face again. "And what the hell am I gonna do with this?" He growled. "I could freakin' braid this!" He sighed and pushed some of it back over his head. He appraised it for a moment, then continued to push the rest back. He smiled smugly at his handiwork.

"Not bad," He said. "And it's out of my damn face." He walked out of the bathroom, grabbed his badge, his wallet and the gun that he was actually allowed to carry and walked out of the door.


"Where's my brother?"

Spencer swallowed.

Brother? Oh that is so much better than what I thought it was! But this psychopath's gonna kill me.

"I don't know." He choked. The man shifted his grip on the gun, anger flaring in his eyes as he moved it closer to Spencer's face.

"Try again." He said darkly.

"L-look," Spencer gulped. "My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm twenty seven years old. I work for the FBI. I have never met you or your brother before in my life. All I know is that I woke up in this place inside your brother's body." The man looked confused. Spencer wondered whether he should take this time to run or try and disarm him. But he dismissed all possibilities of doing so. He couldn't move.

Slowly, the gun was lowered.

"You're not Dean," The man stated. Spencer shook his head. "I am so sorry."

"You should be." Spencer said quietly.

"I didn't think you were…I thought you were something else."

"Don't you mean someone?" Spencer asked. The man extended his hand.

"I'm Sam Winchester." He said, avoiding the question. Spencer hesitated, but still shook his hand.

"Spencer Reid," He said, still unsure if this person was unstable or not. "And, uh…Who am I in?"

"My brother, Dean." Sam explained.

"Do you have any idea how this could have happened?" Spencer asked. Sam looked away from him.

"I have a few theories. But I don't think you'd like them," He mumbled. "You said you were a doctor?" Spencer nodded.

"I have three doctorates and almost four BA's. I'm working on getting one in psychology." Sam's brows rose, impressed.

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty seven."

"Are you some kind of genius?" Sam asked. Spencer sighed.

"I don't believe intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, can read 20,000 words per minute…" Sam's eyes were wide. "Yes, I'm a genius." Sam chuckled.

"Nice to meet you." He said. Spencer nodded.

"Likewise."


Emily and J.J. were talking about nothing in particular, sipping on cups of coffee. Rossi came down the stairs and smiled lightly at them.

"Morning." He said.

"Hey Rossi," J.J. said. "We get to talk to families today, are you excited?"

"Ecstatic." Rossi said, his smile turned sarcastic. J.J. laughed.

"Oh my god," Emily said quietly, tugging on J.J.'s sleeve. "J.J." She turned, and her mouth fell open. Spencer walked down the stairs in jeans that were entirely too tight, a black long-sleeved shirt that was opened to reveal a white T-shirt showing muscles she didn't even know he had. He caught her and Emily staring, and he winked at them. J.J. gasped quietly. Emily swallowed hard. He walked past them after that, heading into the dining area with Rossi, Morgan and Hotch. The two women looked at each other.

"Did you see that or am I hallucinating?" Emily asked. J.J. shook her head.

"No, I saw it too."

"Reid…he, he got…"

"Hot."

--Wow..What could go wrong, right? Feedback please!--