AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. I am so glad you guys are giving this story a chance!...You all are awesome!

Chapter 11

When Derek walked into the bathroom, Garcia was nowhere in sight.

"Penelope?" he called out to the seemingly empty room, but there was no answer.

He groaned internally. As far as he knew, she couldn't just disappear and reappear anywhere, but he didn't exclude any possibility. Stranger things had happened in the past few days, that was for sure! Still, he was more inclined to believe she was merely hiding. That meant only one thing: She had to be in her shower.

He peeled back her shower curtain and found her standing in the corner, her eyes wide in her starkly pale face.

"Send them away," she begged. "Please!"

"Honey—"

"I c-can't do it," she stammered. She was shaking like a leaf on a tree during a high wind. "I can't let them see me like this."

Derek began reaching into the shower to help her out. "Garcia—"

"Don't do this to me!" she cried. "Don't make me go out there."

He wanted so badly to hold her, to tell her it was going to be all right. They'd always been very physical with one another. However, he knew that with her blood lust, it could be more torture than comfort. Instead, he would have to use his words and talk her down from the ledge.

"Sweetheart," he said patiently, "those people out there love you just about as much as I do. They want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not okay!" she snapped, her huge eyes filling with tears as she pushed at his reaching arms. He could tell she was trying to get strength behind it; she grunted with the effort.

"Honey—"

She met his gaze and swallowed so hard, he could see the muscles in her throat working. "I'm a monster, Derek…"

Sighing, Derek stepped into her bathtub and leaned against the wall next to her. "Baby, you're not a monster. You're Penelope Garcia, and a very, very bad thing happened to you. This isn't your fault; they're not going to judge you. Maybe they can even help you and help catch the real monster who did this to you."

"Yeah, sure," she said, wincing as she wiped away the tears sliding down her face furiously. "How?"

"I'm pretty smart, I know you're brilliant, and Reid..." He paused and cocked a brow at her. "Well, let's say he's passably intelligent."

That made her smile a little. "You got a point, there."

He returned her smile before he continued seriously, "But angel, you and I both know this thing is kicking our asses. We are no further finding information today than we were nearly a week ago."

"I know," she said morosely.

"So, we have a choice: you either let us beat our heads against a wall, or you agree to let the finest minds I have ever worked with—"

"We," she interrupted, and then she clarified, "The brightest minds we have ever worked with."

He met her gaze, pleading for her life and his own. "Then, Baby Girl, let them help us out. I know what I would choose—the team or a brick wall." He stepped out of her tub and reached a hand out to her. "How 'bout you?"

She placed her hand into his, and he helped her step out, but her foot caught on the edge of her tub. She tumbled into his arms, and he had to catch her before she nearly hit the floor.

"Whoa!" he said, trying to right her.

For a split second, she looked up at him with an expression he'd never seen before. He watched as her eyes turned a strange dark color, burgundy in hue, and her fangs became more pronounced. A low, harsh growl came from inside of her, and her nostrils flared. Inside, his body quaked with fear, but he kept his outward calm.

"Penel—"

"Step back!" she hissed, but he didn't let her go. Deep down, he knew he should let her go—she was dangerous and couldn't control her lust—but...he couldn't…no…he couldn't…

He watched as she stiffened, her entire body becoming plank straight in his arms. He could tell she was fighting this feeling and how her body was changing. It was a gruelingly physical fight; she shook and she sweated, and she moaned and keened.

Help her... Let her drink...

A voice inside called to him, urging him. He shook his head, but he still held onto her tightly.

She's yours... Help her...

At the same time, he felt a surge in his body, a nearly irresistible desire to let her have him, let her drink from him until she was sated. He could feel every pulse thrumming in his veins, every swish of life-giving fluid coursing in his body. He wanted...he wanted to feed her...to empty his blood and his semen and give her strength.

She's yours...she's yours...she's yours… his subconscious chanted. Become one with her...unite your souls...forever...

He saw her eyes shift back to their usual paleness, and then she collapsed against him, her small frame wracked with gasping breaths.

She's yours...

"Penelope," he whispered, cupping his hands under her ass. He lifted her, drawing her closer, higher against his body.

She met his gaze with eyes filled with exhaustion, both body and spirit, from having won that battle.

He rested her against the sink, placed a hand on the back of her head, and tilted his to the side. "Drink from me..."

"No..." she whispered weakly, but her fangs protruded even more and her eyes began to glow with unearthly light again.

"Yes, baby..." he murmured, and then pressed her face to his neck.

"Stop!" Reid threw the bathroom door open. "Garcia, no!"

Penelope lifted her head and hissed at him, and then her eyes widened and her eyes returned to the prebloodlust state. "Oh, God... I am a monster!"

Derek shook his head, like a fog had suddenly lifted. He stared at her, feeling drugged and confused. "Penelope, I..."

"Go away!" she cried, and this time, Derek left without argument.

The moment he left the room, Penelope had never felt so alone. She needed him...and she couldn't have him. Her whole chest was empty; she didn't even have a heart that would ache.

This was some sort of horrible cosmic joke a demon was playing on her. The one person she loved more than anyone, the one person who was her comfort and peace and solace as much as she was his, was off limits—especially when she needed him most.

She began to cry, heavy, sobbing tears, and Reid wrapped her in his arms to console her. He held her for a long time, and she sobbed endlessly. She felt like she could cry for hours and hours.

"Ah...Garcia?" he asked, but gently. "You have a lot of friends who love you out there..."

"Oh, God…I'm sorry!" she sniffled, wiping her face again.

"Garcia...it's not your fault," he said.

"Reid, what if..." She swallowed hard and fought tears. "I almost killed him again!"

"You didn't," he explained, "but I think we need to be more careful."

She gave a bitter laugh. "You can say that again!"

He gave a sad smile. "It's worse than that..."

She frowned. "What?"

"Let's go in the other room, and I'll explain to everyone." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a sad smile.

"Reid, I—"

As he started to lead her out, she glanced to the left and looked in the mirror...and there was only Reid standing there. She reached a hand out, but it didn't show up.

She didn't have a reflection.

Penelope remembered one of the first things Reid had read. Vampires do not have reflections because they do not possess a soul. They're soulless, undead demons, lacking humanity...

Having a soul made you human.

She'd looked in a mirror nearly daily, and she still had a reflection, so she had a soul. She still had...She...

Except she just didn't.

That was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.