A/N: So, here's the Derek/Spencer dream world, and I must warn you, the boys get up to some naughty business toward the end of the chapter. Quite naughty.
As Derek stared at Spencer, he saw a wracking shudder go through him. It was still cold standing in the heavy gray mist hanging over the clearing, and the boy was wrapped only in a thin blanket, but Derek couldn't help wondering if it was really just the chill that had gotten to him. He put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "You go get some clothes on, kid. You'll catch your death out here."
Spencer looked at him, then at Gideon. The older man gestured to Emily, who was standing behind the sheriff. "Emily, where's Hotch?" he asked. "I need help showing the Compendium to Sheriff Rossi."
Everyone turned to look at the dark-haired girl and she glanced around nervously. "Uh—one of the horses threw a shoe. He went to look for it on the road toward town."
"Ah, I see." He turned his gaze to Derek. "Mr. Morgan, I wonder if I could trouble you for a moment? Accessing the Dream Compendium is a two-man job. It requires a bit of muscle, and Mr. Hotchner seems to have disappeared. Would you care to assist me?"
Derek tore his gaze away from Spencer, who still looked as if someone had punched him in the gut. "What?"
"I said, I could use your help with the Compendium." Gideon was smiling benevolently as Sheriff Rossi and his men stood waiting. Derek looked back at Spencer, remembering how upset he'd been before, when Gideon had offered to show him whatever was in the depths of the show wagon. He saw the boy meet Gideon's gaze; for a moment, the two appeared to have shut themselves off from everyone else around them, as if they were wordlessly communicating. But that was ridiculous, Derek thought.
"Spencer?" he asked softly. Spencer looked back at him, some of the color returning to his face, and he nodded slightly, indicating that Derek should go with Gideon and the other men. Derek nodded back and prodded, "Go get dressed, now."
"All right." Spencer gave Gideon one more look before turning and trudging back to his trailer. The rest of the men followed Gideon to the show wagon and watched as he pulled a jangle-y nest of keys out of his pocket, chose one, and then opened a large padlock on the door. He went in and beckoned for Rossi and Derek to come in as well. The two deputies started to follow, but Gideon put up his hand.
"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but it's a bit close quarters in here. If you'll wait until we reveal the Compendium?"
"That's fine," Rossi said. "You fellows should go visit with the rest of the group anyway. Get names, ask some questions. You know the drill."
The two men obediently turned back, and then Gideon unlocked two more padlocks, one at each end of a partition that, when unlocked, drew up like a roll-top desk. It was huge, though, running the length of the wagon.
"You've got this place locked down like Fort Knox," Rossi commented dryly.
Gideon chuckled. "Well, dreams are irreplaceable things, you know. Have to keep them behind lock and key or they just... disappear."
The wagon had the smell of old wood and resin, with an underlying scent of something sharp and sweet; incense, Morgan realized. He began to have an eerie feeling as he helped roll up the partition, due in part to what he considered to be Gideon's crazy talk, and in part to the fact that the first things he saw revealed were the marionettes Spencer and Penelope had used at the show, as well as several others he hadn't seen before. All of them had faces with garishly painted, grotesque features, and they were all haplessly hung from a pole like dead animals.
On the other end, there were numerous costumes, velvet jackets with brocade trim, some frilly dresses decorated with lace and satin, others made of sleek silk. There were hats of all shapes and sizes on a shelf, and all sorts of props. There was also a set of three drawers in the middle, topped with a framed mirror.
Rossi had an eyebrow cocked, and he pointed at the drawers. "Could I see what's in there, please?"
"Certainly." Gideon pulled the top one open, and showed the sheriff dozens of pots and jars filled with all kinds and colors of different substances.
"What is that stuff?" Rossi asked.
"Face paint, mostly. Fake blood. Hair coloring."
"May I?" Rossi asked, indicating another drawer.
"Be my guest," Gideon said with a smirk.
Rossi pulled it open and Clyde the snake languidly poked his head up, forked tongue slipping in and out of his mouth. Rossi pulled back, startled, but then he laughed. "He supposed to be in there?"
"He usually stays in JJ's wagon, but I suppose she forgot to put him in his cage. He's harmless, but I'll be happy to move him for you."
"No, that's all right. What's in the bottom drawer?"
Gideon obligingly pulled it out. There were a number of tools, odds and ends and several boxes of some sort of powder. "What's that stuff?" Rossi asked.
"It's an incendiary substance that our young magician uses to distract the audience. It can create flashes of light or smoke screens, depending on the mixture."
Rossi nodded, then reached in and pulled out a jar. It had the word "Poison" on it, along with a skull and crossbones. He gave Gideon a skeptical look. "And this?"
"Rat poison."
"And, what do you use that for?"
"Rats," Gideon said mildly. "Sometimes they take up residence in here. They chew things and make a mess—we have to get rid of them somehow, you know. Clyde's useless."
Rossi nodded again, then stepped back and looked up and around the space. "Why do you call this a Dream Compendium?" he asked, a puzzled frown on his face.
Gideon shrugged. "What are dreams, Sheriff? Thoughts, wishes, ideas, memories... My wonderful troupe uses these props to bring their dreams to life for people who have far too few of their own, or too few good ones, at least. They capture them and keep them here until needed." Gideon fingered a feather boa and grinned. "What are your dreams, Sheriff? Have any to spare?" He looked at a spot above Rossi's head and suddenly reached out as if to snatch something from the air. He made a show of cradling it in his hands and then neatly dropping it— "it" being absolutely nothing—into the drawer.
Rossi and Derek exchanged glances, and then something glinting on the floor caught Rossi's eye. "What's that?" He leaned down and reached under a small table, gingerly bringing out a hunting knife by the handle. The blade was stained and rusted, apparently by blood. "Is this yours, Mr. Gideon?"
"No. I've never seen it before." Gideon's taunting expression had changed to one of seriousness. "Mr. Morgan, you were in here last night. Is that yours?"
"No!" Derek said, startled at being brought into the conversation.
Gideon shrugged. "Perhaps it belongs to Mr. Breitkopf."
Rossi was staring intently at the showman. He nodded. "Perhaps. I'll take it to his wife and see if she can identify it." He carefully wrapped the knife in a cloth and put it in his coat pocket, and then turned to face Derek. "So, you were in here last night as well?"
"Uh, yeah," Derek answered.
"May I have your name?" The sheriff brought out a little notebook.
"Derek Morgan. Look, I—"
"What is your position with this outfit?"
"Nothing! I mean, I'm friends with one of the actors—"
"The magician," Gideon corrected smoothly.
"Yeah. I just... I don't know anything about this 'compendium' or anything else, much."
"Who did you see going into the show wagon last night, Mr. Morgan?" Rossi asked.
"Just the troupe. Hotch, Emily, all of them."
"Anyone else?"
Derek looked at Gideon, who tipped his head encouragingly. "I saw a man—white guy, tall, thin, middle-aged. He went in with Gideon, and after a short time, came out again. That's all I saw."
"You didn't speak to him?"
"No."
"You did see him leave?" Rossi asked.
"Yeah, I just said I did," Derek responded irritably.
"Which way was he headed?"
"South. Toward the woods."
Rossi nodded, made some notes, and then put away his notebook. "All right, gentlemen. That's all I have for now. But, until we find Mr. Breitkopf, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go anywhere. Any of you," he said, first fixing Derek with a stern glance, then gesturing toward the outside and the rest of the crew.
"I'm afraid that's quite impossible, we have to keep moving if we're to make it to Florida before the bad weather comes upon us," Gideon said.
"This is a small town, Mr. Gideon. I'm sure Frank will turn up soon—one way or another. Let's just sit tight for a bit. I'd... feel better about it." Rossi's mouth slid into a benign smile, but his eyes held no humor at all. He then stepped out of the wagon to consult with his men.
Spencer stepped back into his trailer, shivering. He was a sticky mess from the night's activities with Derek, so he wet a cloth and cleaned himself up, and then hastily dressed, grateful for his warm clothes. All of his energy had been sapped by his mental conversation with Gideon; he'd been assured that it was a skill that would become easier in time, but he was still learning and it took an enormous amount of concentration.
It didn't help that he was worried half to death.
Gideon's dealings had never attracted the attention of a local sheriff before, and even though he'd assured Spencer that he had everything under control, Spencer couldn't help but worry that somehow things had gone too far this time.
And, he didn't want Derek involved in any of it. He'd been a fool to ask him to join the troupe; he should have let things go as he'd originally planned when he was merely seeking a quick diversion, a little sex with a beautiful man that he'd thought he'd never see again. He hadn't expected to fall in love, and he certainly hadn't expected to be fallen in love with, if that was really what was happening here.
But, as much as he wanted Derek Morgan in his life, he wasn't going to let him get mixed up with Gideon's business. He wasn't like the rest of them, hadn't seen the things they had, and, even if he came to understand everything, it probably wouldn't be good for his health.
He looked out his window and watched the sheriff's deputies as they spoke first to Emily, then JJ, and then Penelope. Hotch strode up and he was interviewed, too. Spencer supposed he'd be next, so he stepped outside, pulling on his jacket as he went.
He steeled himself as the two strangers came over to him.
"What's your name, son?" one of the deputies asked.
"Spencer Reid."
"What's your job with this crew?"
"I'm a performer. I do magic tricks and such."
"Do you recognize this man? Did you see him last night?" The deputy held up a daguerreotype of a slim, handsome older man posed standing behind a seated woman.
Spencer looked at the image; another chill went through him, but he raised his eyes to the deputy unflinchingly. "No, I'm sorry, I don't recognize him," he answered truthfully.
"Did you see anyone besides members of your troupe enter the wagon last night?"
Spencer shook his head.
"Did Mr. Gideon say anything about a stranger coming in there?"
"No."
"What about that other guy—Morgan, I think his name is? Did he mention a Mr. Breitkopf to you?"
Spencer frowned. Why the hell were they interested in Derek? "No. I'm sorry, I wish I could help, but I don't know anything about this," he said, pointing at the picture. "I didn't see anything. I was really busy with the show."
The deputy made a note and nodded. "All right. Thank you." He and his partner walked off to wait for Rossi.
Spencer looked toward the show wagon; just then, the door opened and the sheriff came out, followed by Derek and Gideon. Gideon locked the door behind him, and Derek headed over to join Spencer.
A surge of joy came over the young man, and he immediately wished it away, but to no avail. The sight of his lover walking towards him made him happy, and there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in Derek's strong warm arms and forget about the missing man, the sheriff, and Gideon's damn business.
"Hey," he said uncertainly; Derek had a stormy look on his face. He jerked his head toward Spencer's door, and the two of them went inside.
"What's wrong?" Spencer asked.
"Your goddamn boss just about got me implicated in this Breitkopf situation, and now the sheriff's got my name on his list. Plus, I'm likely going to miss my train this afternoon because he's not letting any of us leave town until they find the poor fucker."
"Oh, gosh," Spencer said weakly.
"I guess that's what you wanted, though, isn't it?" Derek narrowed an eye and pointed accusingly. "Did you put him up to this? Did you happen to 'magically' plant a bloody knife in the show wagon?" he demanded.
A shocked look crossed Spencer's face."What! No! What knife? I-I don't know anything about a knife!" As the accusation sunk in, Spencer pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring. "You really think I'd risk getting you in trouble with the law just so I could keep you around? That's nice, Derek, that's real nice. Great to know how much you trust me."
"Well, you did steal my wallet to get me to come back to you."
"Hardly the same thing."
Derek's ire seemed to ebb away, and he swiped a hand over his scalp. "I'm sorry, kid. Everything's just so... This place is getting to me, I guess. That Gideon's an odd duck. I don't like him." He stepped closer to Spencer and put his hands on his shoulders. "I don't like the idea of you being mixed up with him, either. Or with this show, or that... that 'dream compendium.' It's just weird, that's all. I want you to go away with me."
Spencer sighed, a tired, bruised sound. "I told you, I can't. I'm sorry. And..." He drew himself up and looked into Derek's eyes; he knew the words would come hard for him, but better to let Derek think his feelings had changed than to tell him he was trying to protect him. He'd never go for that at all.
"And, for your information, I've changed my mind. I don't want you coming with us after all." He impatiently pushed a strand of hair away from his face and said, "I think we should just... be glad we met. We had a good time; the sex was exceptional. But, that's it. We need to go our own ways now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cash Hotch had given him. "Oh, and don't worry about missing your train. If you do, I'll pay for another ticket."
Derek's mouth set into a grim line. What the hell? "So, that's it? I piss you off, and all of a sudden, you're done with me?"
"No, I'm done because we've reached the end." They stood staring intently at one another, and then Spencer added, "You should go back to your hotel now. No point in dragging this out." He turned and went to sit on his bed, trembling a bit from controlling his emotions.
Derek felt heat rising up from his gut, flooding his chest and neck. It wasn't anger; it was hot desperation, the feeling of air being sucked from his lungs. He couldn't lose him, he couldn't. Damn it, he'd just found him...
Derek strode the few steps to Spencer's side, swept him into his arms and kissed him in a fiery combustion, his mouth claiming the youth's for his own. Spencer struggled and whimpered against him, but after a moment, he gave in and kissed back until they were both wrung out. "What are you doing?" Spencer asked brokenly as he pulled away.
"I got news for you, pretty boy—I'm not leaving you. You can't make me. If you won't go with me, I'll go with you, you and your goddamn crazy show."
"No, Derek—"
"Don't tell me 'no!' It won't do any good. I'll buy me a nag and follow on horseback if I have to, but I'm not letting you go, hear me?" The fire was back in his voice. "You belong to me, and I to you. I don't know how, I don't know why, but that's the way it is, and you can't change it. You can't change it, and I don't want to. Understand?"
Spencer blinked, a thousand thoughts colliding in his mind, but then somehow a sense of peace came over him and his fears disappeared. After a moment, he nodded and gave a wobbly smile. "I understand."
"Good. Now, move over. Looks like nobody's going anywhere for a while, and I'm getting back in this bed. You can join me if you want." Derek irritably pulled off his shirt and trousers and climbed naked into the bed.
Spencer watched him, his smile strengthening into a broad grin. "Yes, sir." He shucked off his clothes as well and slid under the covers into Derek's waiting arms. Derek resumed kissing him and then he ran a hand down to Spencer's cock, stroking it into full erection. He wrapped his hand around it and his own as well, squeezing them together, and with a chuckle said, "Now, that's a pretty sight."
Spencer laughed softly, and then thrust into Derek's hand as he kissed him. "Fuck me, Derek." His voice had the same raspy tone he'd had a few hours earlier, after he'd cried out Derek's name over and over again.
Derek made a put-upon noise. "Didn't you get enough of that last night?"
Spencer solemnly shook his head.
"Boy, you're going to wear me out." Derek had him cradled against himself; he was amazed at how perfectly he fit. It was so warm under the covers, so comfortable nestled into the deep soft feather mattress with his lover in his arms that it was a shame to spoil the moment, but Spencer's plea was so tempting—and, who was he to refuse such a heartfelt request? He smiled. "Oh, all right, baby. Turn over."
Spencer flipped over onto his stomach, lying flat on the bed. Derek gave one cheek a smart smack and admonished, "Hey, lazy, none of that. Hike that cute little ass up into the air for me." Spencer rather liked the tingle that Derek's hand had left and he considered disobeying in hopes of getting another good smack, but he went ahead and raised up, spreading his legs and tipping his pelvis to give Derek easy access.
Derek squeezed his bottom as he shifted behind him, and then his cheeks were gently parted, but instead of being probed by a sticky-wet cock head as expected, he felt something strange, new—and utterly delicious. "Derek?" he gasped as he turned his head to look behind him. "What are you doing?"
"Tasting you, baby." Derek lapped at the crinkled little hole, teasing little warm wet licks at first, then one long, shudder-inducing stripe that started at Spencer's balls and slid up, ending with Derek's tongue lazily caressing his entrance. Spencer shivered and moaned.
"Fuck," he said shakily.
"You okay?"
"I'm gonna come," he said.
"Oh, no, angel, not yet. Not until I'm in you."
"Then, you better give me a minute." Spencer took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on anything other than the fact that his balls felt like they were about to explode. "Okay, go ahead," he said, once he got himself back in control.
Derek chuckled, pleased. He liked taking Spencer to the edge like this, liked making him forget himself. "Hasn't anybody ever done this for you before?"
"No," Spencer said, sounding half-strangled. "Jesus, they will from now on, though."
Derek reared back and gave Spencer a swift, smart swat on one bare cheek, bringing forth an appreciative yelp from his lover. "'They?'" Derek spat indignantly. "There better not be any 'they' from now on, understand? It's me, just me."
"Yes, sir!" Spencer gasped happily. "Just you. Only you..."
Derek grinned. "That's better." Satisfied, he settled back and resumed his delightful task, alternating long, wet laps along his perineum with giving each of Spencer's balls a deep but gentle suck. He went back to laving at his entrance, producing the most erotic chorus of moans and whimpers that Derek had ever heard.
"Derek, please," Spencer finally said weakly. "You're driving me insane. I need you inside me."
"Aw, poor baby, you need me to fill your sweet little hole?"
"God, yes..."
"All right." Derek knelt, reached for the oil and generously coated his member. He pulled Spencer's hips upward to meet his and guided himself inside, penetrating him with a single hard, deep thrust. Spencer cried out at the sensation, took a moment to adjust, and then wriggled around until he found the best angle to begin eagerly fucking himself back onto Derek's cock.
Derek thrust into him hard and fast, loving the feeling of being inside his lover's lithe body. He gripped the skinny hips, breathed in the scent of lamp oil, sweat and sex; he felt cocooned by the small, dim space, and for a long, perfect moment, he felt complete.
Derek was still deep inside Spencer when the door opened. Penelope stuck her head in and trilled, "Sweeties, when you're done with your sinful debauchery, come over to the campfire and eat breakfast. We're having pancakes!" She winked happily at the still-panting pair and left.
"I'll never get used to that," Derek sighed, pulling out and rolling onto his back.
Spencer was still recovering from the most intense orgasm he'd ever had in his life, but he managed to say, "Oh, you will. Happens all the time." He too lay back, and Derek sat up and pulled him into his arms.
"Doesn't matter. I guess I can put up with just about anything, if it means I get to be with you." He planted a kiss onto the top of Spencer's head before crawling over him and reaching for his pants. "Anyway, I can forgive her under the circumstances—I'm starving." He got up and put on his clothes, and then waited by the door for Spencer.
Spencer's own stomach was growling by now, and he didn't waste any time getting dressed; as it was for most teenagers, his appetite was a force unto itself.
He paused to watched Derek stride toward the campfire, and he smiled. He knew nothing mattered but that the two of them stay together.
Nothing could tear them apart.
Spencer would make sure of it.
