Crimson Darkness

He took a moment to enjoy the comforting hum of the plane before delving back into the pages of Gower's Vox Clamantis. Moments of bliss were rare in his line of work, and he had to snatch and cherish every speck he could find. He loved the feel of the book's rough cover against his fingers, the mere feel of the clouds rushing by him, the soft whispers of his teammates engaged in little trivial joys of their own. He smirked to see Morgan and Rossi frowning over cards, their faces absolute pictures of some approaching grave disaster. JJ lay upon the long couch, flipping through pictures of Henry. Emily and Hotch talked in low voices, partly, Reid guessed, so that the others wouldn't be disturbed and partly because they whispered secrets that were meant for them alone. He couldn't help but smile at Hotch's expression; his eyes were dilated and he blushed furiously as Emily giggled and whispered to him. They were ever so adorable…

His eyes traveled to the serene little figure, perched neatly by the window right opposite his. Aisha's brows were wrinkled as she deeply contemplated the words of Joyce's Ulysses, unconsciously fiddling with her hair which was, for the first time since she joined the BAU gathered into a loose bun from him strands hung upon her shoulders. Spencer liked this new look, though he preferred the unrestrained flow of red the most.

He smiled again as his mind reverted back to their little ice cream date. Even though she refused to call him anything but Dr. Reid, they had had fun. They had actually argued over which flavor to order, just for the fun of it. Spencer had let her do the talking, though Aisha continuously goaded him to speak of himself. He was surprised to find they shared a lot of interests. Beethoven, Mozart, Pachelbel, Kant, Bacon, Nietzsche, Joyce, Maugham, Milton, Munro…the list was almost endless. It was the first time he was actually able to discuss his views and ideas with someone without receiving a "Can you stop being weird for 5 minutes?" or a "Taking back five minutes of my life" or simply a blank look. It was strangely comforting to talk and realize that the person you spoke to realized what you were saying, it was a rare feeling, atleast for him.

Spencer didn't realize he had been staring at her, and when Aisha looked up, he barely had time to rush his eyes away. Her gaze met his and she smiled lightly before returning to the book. He sighed and did the same. They still had much to do once they reached Quantico.

Damien Ciro, the dominant personality of the "vampire killing" team had been arrested, but he had refused to speak a word. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan and Emily had berated and interrogated him for hours in the St. Germain police station, but they hadn't been able to extract even a sigh or s whimper. He simply stared at whoever questioned him, his eyes blazing. He and Aisha had stood outside, watching Ciro's unshaken silence.

It was after five hours of relentless questioning that Aisha suggested a different method, she proposed that she and Reid approach in a more polite, yet firm way, perhaps express interest in his work and hence get him to reveal his methods of slaughter. Exhausted and out of ideas, the others agreed to let the youngest profilers attempt to break this silent suspect.

Spencer entered first. "Good evening, Mr. Ciro. I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm with the FBI."

The giant creature was quiet, assaulting the slim, frail man with his sight. Spencer felt unnerved, but his face showed no reflection of it. "I'm sorry you've been having such a hard time." He said, seating himself.

For the first time since they had come across him, words escaped the lips of a man who believed himself to be a cleanser of the world. "If you are sorry, you would do well to ease my discomfort." Ciro's voice was sharp, it was cold; it sliced through Reid's composure like a barbed whip through skin.

Spencer gulped and pursed his lips, forcing himself to return the man's hardened gaze. He had to maintain eye contact for if he looked away, it would establish fear and hesitation, which was exactly what a psychopath such as this fed upon. "And what is it you'd like me to do?" His tone was steady.

"I would like you to tell me why I am imprisoned when I should be honored." The words slashed through the air in the room. "You imprison a thane of God, you dare interfere in the execution of His commands."

His delusion was beyond reversal or cure; Spencer realized he would have to participate in Ciro's fantasy in order to extract information regarding the murders. "How did you come to know that you are a thane of God, Mr. Ciro?"

"I was born to serve His wishes." His utterance was laced with self importance and yet, resonated with devotion, fanatic devotion; his eyes were raised to heaven. "The Lord came to me as a child, he revealed to me the darkness that infested His world, and bestowed upon me the duty of restoring His glory and beauty by slaying the minions of The Serpent who prey upon His children. Tell me." He lowered his eyes, gazing into Spencer again. "why do you, a child of God accuse His warrior of the sins of darkness?"

"That's because you killed three innocent people Mr. Ciro and—"

"THEY WERE SLAVES OF SATAN!" Ciro stood up, the force of his rise knocking down his chair. "THEY FED UPON THE GOODNESS, THE LIFE OF YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS, FOOL! AND YOU DARE CALL THEM INNOCENT!"

Two police officers had rushed in to restrain the man whose face had become red with the impact of his roars. Spencer watched them wrest him into his chair and force him to sit. He watched them reinforce his bonds before leaving the room. Ciro glared at him, rage apparent in the darkened, maddened pupils. "You sin against the Almighty…" he said in a low, scratched whisper.

He had to adopt a different line of questioning. "Tell me, Mr. Ciro, how did you kill those…creatures?"

The suspect didn't answer. Instead, he watched Reid, probing him, as if trying to read him. "The girl…"

Spencer stared. "Excuse me ?"

"The girl that aimed the iron at my heart. I wish to see her." His voice held absolute finality. "I wish to speak to her. Now."

Reid was startled, he was used to delusional criminal making demands to confront thair captors, but something about this man struck him…in a negative manner. Suddenly, Spencer found himself reluctant to let Aisha come before the man who had had the heart to slam a fist into her ever so pretty face. He didn't want this monster to lay his eyes upon someone as pretty and frail as her; she was hurt…because of him. Spencer felt anger begin to consume him. This bastard whose only future was a padded cell had the audacity to demand the presence of the woman he had wounded so cruelly…How dare he..?

He heard the door open, and without looking, he knew it was her. He knew her hair kissed her face. He knew her eyes drilled into Ciro's, raining defiance. He heard her come closer, and sit next to him. He wanted to hold her hand; he wanted to protect her.

"How about you tell me how you killed those people?" Aisha was direct. She realized that if he were to answer, he would; there was no need for extravagancies of conversation.

Once again, Damien Ciro refused to answer. He looked at her for a long time, and Reid was perturbed to see that the man's gaze was different from when he looked at the others. His stare softened, and he seemed to be appraising Aisha's appearance. His eyes caressed the girl's face, a face that was set in stony aggression.

Ciro stopped his lengthened appraisal of her face and leaned back in his chair, his face suddenly relaxed , having lost its furious animosity. He set his sight on Reid again, and spoke. "It must be ever so distracting to have the company of someone as beautiful as her all the time, ever so distracting, and ever so pleasant." He looked back at Aisha, admiration now more apparent in his ocean blue eyes.

"Such beauty must ignite all those fires within you, Dr. Reid…"

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The pilot announced that the plane would land in a half hour. Spencer watched everyone collect their belongings with uninterested eyes. Ciro's words still disturbed him. Fires within him? He almost laughed out loud. The last time he remembered being attracted to some was when he met that bartender girl, one whose name he couldn't remember at the moment. Of course, there was Lila in LA, but he hadn't spoke to her in…forever. He had called her about twice after returning to Quantico. Like most people, she was stupid. Blank faces, or in her case, awkward pauses after each paragraph. That girl, like everyone else, didn't comprehend half of what he said.

He sighed. Hopeless was the exact word that described his love, or even sex life. Not that it bothered him much. He had enough literature and more than enough cases to occupy him, and rarely did his nethers rebel against his almost celibate existence. Of course, Aisha Rose was a woman of a completely different dynamic, intelligent and, he allowed himself another glance of her…she was a challenge. He knew he wanted her to call him by his name again, but he didn't think he would be able to see that wish materialized any time soon…

Shaking his head, he gathered his things. Hotch had pulled some federal strings and Ciro was being transported to Washington where he would be kept imprisoned while the questioning continued. His confession had already sentenced him to life in jail but the unit wanted to examine him regarding his method of murder. Ciro hadn't said another word after telling Reid of his "fires", but Hotch was confident that if Aisha and Reid persisted, he would eventually cave in.

"I know its unlike us to have a criminal transported, but I'd like all of you to conduct further investigations into his behavior and extract as much information as you can.' Hotch said, trying to avoid the little giggles everyone directed towards him and Emily. "But, we have other cases to look over. So, get some sleep." Everyone nodded. JJ winked at Emily who snaked an arm into Hotch's, just to annoy him. It resulted in Rossi and Morgan bursting out in laughter, along with JJ while Reid smirked and Aisha giggled. Hotch was probably going to read his new girlfriend the Riot Act about unprofessional conduct as soon as he could get her alone… "What a waste…" Reid thought, taking a moment to notice how wonderfully attractive his black haired colleague was.

"So, where do you stay, Rose?" Morgan had finally managed to stop his bear laughs and was looking through his cell phone.

"Stafford. I and my roommate found this amazing place in the suburbs. It's a Tudor style house with a beautiful slice of garden and a lovely backyard. Perfect for pets and gardening."

"Oh, you have a pet? That's cool.."

"Pets, actually. 15 cats. 3 dogs. Some hamsters. A few spiders and some snakes." Aisha replied nonchalantly, and took a minute to register the jaws that had dropped a few hundred feet.

"15 cats?" Emily stifled, while Hotch stared incredulously.

"How do you handle them all? It must be close to an asylum." Rossi shook his head.

"Actually, they're all very disciplined. No trouble at all. And when have spiders and snakes ever caused trouble?"

"Spiders and snakes? Really?" JJ started pouring herself a cup of coffee from the plane's espresso machine. "They don't…you know, freak you out?"

"Why should they?" Aisha shrugged. "They're just discriminated against because of their appearance and biblical allusions. Snakes happen to be very docile, calm creatures unless one goes out of their way to irritate and set them off. And spiders never cause harm if they have been given their share of sustenance. Infact, I don't think Marco has ever hunted…"

"Marco? Your spider? You named a spider?" Emily balanced her chin in the cup of her palms.

"Of course. I name all my babies, like any good mother. Oh, speaking of that, I have to pick up a feeding bottle for Antoine…"

Spencer let out a quiet laugh. She was far more than he had ever imagined…

The plane landed within the next hour, and everyone advanced towards their homes, eager to catch up on some much needed rest. Morgan offered Spencer a ride; most considered a car collateral damage in the hands of Spencer Reid, and Morgan didn't want him trudging through stacked subways at the moment.

"Newbie's really something, huh?" The African American rested into his seat with one limp hand on the wheel. The roads were thankfully free of maddening traffic at the hour.

"Yea, something." Reid wondered what his colleague would say if he knew the actual extent of his goings on with the "newbie".

"You okay, kid?" Morgan asked, seeing his friend slumped against the glass, staring listlessly at the rushing blur of muted streetlights and winking porchlights.

"Yea…"

"Reid, you know I know you well enough to know that "Yea" means you're the exact opposite of alright. So out with it, genius before I need to start applying information extraction techniques on your ass."

He released his breath with a huff. Morgan was his friend, one of the few people who had always been there for him. He deserved to know. He deserved to know everything that churned inside the young mind. If anyone could help him, it was Derek, wasn't it? Derek was the one with all those women, he was the one who knew about the feminine nature.

"Just the case. Doesn't feel right, that Ciro man." It wasn't a complete lie. Reid wasn't feeling too comfortable with the idea of facing a man who had made him feel real rage after a very long time. Rage was unwanted in his line of work, as was fratrenising with a fellow agent.

"Okay, Reid. Relax, will you? Stop thinking about serial killers , blood and murder for a couple of minutes and try to get that brain of yours some rest. Every geniuses need sleep. We'll figure everything out. We always do."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

His chocolate tinted hair gleamed dully in the overhead light as he smoothed it out with lithe, quick fingerstrokes. Reclining on the couch, Spencer let his head fall back and closed his eyes, allowing the comforting ache of exhaustion and the sweet buzz of jet-lag steal over him. Soft sighs escaped his slightly parted lips, he wanted to sleep. His half- deadened mind conjured up images of flowing red and sugary green and he let his aching limbs wallow in gentle, sleepy illusions.

His mother reading Bruce to him, the comforting, assuring voice, her warm, safe embrace. How long had it been since he had felt safe, truly safe? He was diligently protected by his teammates, usually confined to working out geographical schematics rather than assist in field work. He didn't bother, but he wanted to feel truly safe, his heart, he wanted his heart to feel the same, soft, sweet warmth he had felt when 12 years old.

His mother being taken away, and he was the one who had called the sanitarium. He was the one who had called those men called in blazing white, and as they led her away, she was crying, crying as if her heart was breaking. He couldn't let her be taken away, not again. "Mom!" He called. She couldn't hear him, she was crying. He yelled at the men to stop, but they didn't listen. They kept taking her away, far away, far from him. "STOP!" He screamed.

The men stopped. They started turning. Reid couldn't see them both, but he could see one. His face was….Damien Ciro! It was Damien Ciro. He was grinning like the devil, one enormous hand clutching his mother's fragile arm. She sobbed, begging for Spencer to help her, to not send her away. The monster was going to punish her, punish her for him. He was going to toss her into hell because Spencer had captured him. He called out to his mother again, she had to look at him, she had to know he loved her. "MOM!"

She looked at him, and to his horror, he saw that she had no face. Her skin had been peeled off and what remained was a ghastly, horrendous plethora of bleeding veins, sagging arteries and two blood shot eyeballs that revolved madly in the sockets. Her sobs were gurgling, and as Ciro started pulling her away again, her body started to disintegrate. Spencer could see the skin of her arms, legs, neck to fall off, revealing glistening crimson horrors beneath…

"NOOOOOOOOOO! MOM!" He kicked away the blanket, sitting up violently and knocking over the little vase of flowers on the coffee table, sending it smashing into the marble floor.

His scream echoed off the mauve walls. He fell back into the couch and began to pant, gripping his sweated hair. His heart threatened to undergo a stroke, and he inhaled several gulps pf air, attempting to stop his chest from exploding. Whipping out his cell, he started punching in the number of the sanitarium.

The phone buzzed into life before he could finish. It was JJ. Spencer felt a cold sensation stab him. Why would she be calling at this hour unless…? He shook his head. It could just be another case. "Hey JJ…"

"Reid, you have to get to the office now." Her voice was concerned, almost frantic. Reid bit his lower lips from screaming out. His knees were starting to shake and he felt he would pass out…. "JJ, what is it? What's wrong?" His voice quivered like a weed in a storm.

"Its Damien Ciro. He's escaped."

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OOC: I know. I know. Looooonnnggggg delay. But, with college and all, its kinda difficult to procure time for fanfic, or anything other than assignments, term papers and projects, for that matter. Hope you guys understand. And do comment. Thanks for all the reviews, people. Love you!