This was a dream I had last night. Really, I have no excuse for it. IT's not set in any specified time in either X-Men or CM. Sorry!

It was a Thursday afternoon when the whole of Spencer Reid's life changed. It should've been a normal day. The BAU was on a case that they'd pretty well wrapped up. They knew who their Unsub was and had gone to apprehend him. None of them had any idea just how much things would change by the time they left that house. Spencer had no idea how much his life would change.

Things wouldn't ever be the same again.

These were the kinds of situations that no one ever liked to be in. They were the ones that Spencer hated more than anything. Dealing with Unsubs was one thing; that could get dangerous enough not just for the agents but for any civilians. But when kids were in the mix—that changed everything. Dr. Spencer Reid stood with his friend and coworker at his side in the basement of their Unsub's house, their guns drawn, trying to talk town the man who was currently wearing a bomb strapped to his chest and holding his children hostage. They cowered over in the corner, too afraid to come out, too afraid to do much of anything.

SWAT was waiting behind them for their signal. Derek was speaking to the Unsub, trying to talk him down, while Spencer focused more on the children. If he could get them over here he could get them out and safely away.

"Mr. Hooper, please, it doesn't have to be this way." Derek's voice was pitched low, that cajoling tone that Spencer had heard him use so many times. He stepped to the left, away from Spencer and the kids, which forced the Unsub to turn that way as well if he wanted to keep Derek in his sight. "We don't want anyone to get hurt. We just want this to end as peacefully as possible."

"Then you just get back! Get out of here!" Lou Hooper snapped, gesturing with the detonator in his hand over towards the door.

Derek gave a small, sad shake of his head. "I can't do that, Mr. Hooper, you know that. I can't just leave."

With the man's attention firmly on Derek, it allowed Spencer the freedom to inch forward just a little more. The two children were tucked back by a washer, the older one, who was only seven, was clutching his four year old brother against his chest. It was the older one that Spencer tried to lock eyes with. He couldn't risk yelling out to him, or even calling out in a whisper, so he just kept moving, trying to get to them, trying to get the boy's attention.

Spencer was halfway across the room when the boy looked up. Blue eyes locked on Spencer's and the fear there made him flinch inside. No kid should be afraid like that.

"I want you out of my house!" Lou was yelling to Derek. The hand with the detonator was gesturing again, each movement growing more erratic. He was getting less and less stable as time passed.

Holding the older boy's eyes, Spencer let go of his gun with one hand and made a 'come here' gesture. There were just a few feet between them. If he could just get them to him it would be easier. He could protect them better.

The boy stared for only a split second and the way his eyes swept over Spencer said he was a bit too familiar with sizing up people. Whatever he saw must've reassured him. Never letting go of his brother, he pushed up to his feet and started to inch forward, pulling his brother along with him.

They were just a half foot in front of Spencer when everything went to hell.

The younger of the two was shuffling along with his brother without paying any attention to where he was going. He was too scared to lift his face from his brother's shirt. Because of that, he never saw the box just a hair too close, not until he caught it with his hip and sent it tumbling down.

Everyone in the basement froze as the boxes crashed down. Lou spun, eyes wide and wild as they landed on his boys, and what Spencer saw in his eyes had him shivering.

"Run!"

The word echoed in the room and Spencer wasn't sure who had shouted it, him or Derek, but it didn't really matter because they were already moving. Spencer snatched up the boys in front of him and ran, already knowing even as he did that it was going to be too late, that he would never make it over and out that door in time. Fear was like a living thing inside of him, crawling up his spine, burning in his gut, spreading like wildfire. He saw Derek go out the door and was grateful at least that his friend made it out.

There was only a second for Spencer to decide what to do. One split second in which he had to somehow come up with something to save these children. Only one idea presented itself and he didn't have time to try and think of anything else. Adrenaline gave him an extra burst of speed and he shot to the left, darting behind the nearby wall and flinging himself and the children down just as the whole world went insane. There was a large BOOM that seemed both in him and out of him and Spencer did the only thing he could. He drew the two kids in against him and tucked his body down over theirs while the world shook and broke and flew around them, his only thought to shelter them from the blast.

Pain rolled over him, but it didn't come from the outside. It was coming from inside. His insides felt like they were burning, charged by some current, thrust into a fire, ripping and tearing and breaking him apart. It shot over his skin and he screamed as his back felt like it was ripped open and torn apart. The world around him burned away to ash and took him with it. The last thought he had before the world disappeared around him was that he hoped the kids were okay.

When Spencer woke again, it was a surprise. He hadn't expected to wake again. He'd been so sure that explosion was the end of him. And this…this was no afterlife. What was going on? Where was he? His whole body hurt in ways he hadn't even known were possible. It felt like there were hands on him, holding him, but they hurt and he tried to twist, to get away from the pain. Nearby, someone was shouting and Spencer tried to hear what it was, but he lost focus as someone touched—something—behind him and the pain of it whited out everything else. He yanked away from the hands. There was a thud followed by a pained cry. Spencer couldn't focus on trying to figure out what it was. He just curled in tighter on himself and tried to ride out the pain.

"Get away from him!" Another voice shouted out. This one, he knew. This one, he recognized immediately. Derek. "Back off, just back off, put your guns away!"

"Move, agent! That thing's dangerous!"

Thing, what thing? Spencer whimpered and curled his hands into the ground beneath him. He hurt. Everything hurt.

His thoughts were echoed a second later by his friend. "He's hurt!" Derek was snapping at someone. His voice was closer now, almost right up on him. "You were hurting him, of course he reacted. Now just back off!"

"Everyone, back up!" This time it was Aaron's voice and there was that edge of command that had directed so many agents over the years. Then there was movement nearby, the sound of footsteps slipping and sliding until they were right up next to him. He swore he could actually hear it as the person crouched down near him and he knew, he should try and open his eyes, but he was so tired and everything hurt. "Reid." Aaron's voice was low and calm, right next to him. It was his boss that had come close. "Reid, I know you're hurt, but we need you to…to move. We need to see if the kids are okay."

The kids? The kids!

If there was anything geared to get him to open his eyes, it was that. Spencer had them snapped open before he could even stop to think about it. What he saw had him almost immediately relaxing. Both boys were lying there staring up at him, their eyes visible in the shadows around them. Shadows? Why was it so dark? Pressing on his arms, which were still pressed into the ground to help hold him protectively over the boys, he pushed himself up just a little, lifting his eyes off the children and up, and what he saw had him freezing once more.

In a perfect cocoon around them were what looked to be great big sheets of leather? Leather and…was that bone? What the hell? He drew back from them and was stunned further when they moved with him. A part of Spencer's brain that was the scientist in him whispered the word wings to him. Those were wings. But, what? How? Almost against his will he found one of his hands lifting to reach for that leather right in front of him.

The sight of his hand knocked him right out of numb shock and directly into terrified.

In place of his fingernails there now sat a claw at the end of each finger. A long, black claw, curved and deadly looking.

A pained sound tore from Spencer's throat. He didn't notice the sudden tension in the officers nearby. Really, he didn't even notice there were present. All of his focus was on staring at the arm that he held out in front of him and the hand that looked nothing like it had before. He held both arms out and stared at them in mute horror. Both hands had claws in lieu of fingernails, and along each forearm were three spikes, curved to point almost toward his elbows, and they were black as night.

Someone was calling out to him but he didn't listen. His hands shot in, running over his chest, checking for more and finding nothing. The same couldn't be said for his face.

His distress grew as these new fingers traced new extended curve of his ears and then up to his forehead where he found, Jesus, horns! Two of them, one above each eyebrow, coming to a point about three inches out from his head.

What the hell happened to him? What was wrong with him? He wasn't—he wasn't a mutant! He was a grown adult. He couldn't have mutated!

The horns, spikes, wings and, oh God, a tail, all said otherwise.

His wings were trying to curl around him in apparent reaction to his distress. They were huge things, not feathered but more—dragon like. The arm of them—he couldn't think of any other word to use—had one bend where he assumed the 'elbow' joint was, and then at the very end it came out into a spike, almost like a giant thumb. From that end joint spread out four long 'fingers', which were spiked on the end, and between those 'fingers' were what he had thought were blankets of leather earlier. They were pitch black, yet Spencer swore there was purple mixed in the darkness.

God, oh God, what was happening to him? What happened!?

The sound of his boss's voice broke into Spencer's stupor and he spun himself towards it immediately despite the agonizing pain his body was still in. His new wings drew back so he could see and the people nearby got a look at his face for the first time. They saw the spikes, the horns, and the thing he couldn't see—his eyes. The sclera, what little could be seen, was black, and his pupils had thinned to a slit. His irises were bigger and were a mix of purple and blue, the colors of the night.

The strangeness of his appearance and his quick move, coupled with the low groan he let out when his aching body protested, were all it took to set off the already anxious officers. Three separate shots were fired before Aaron and Derek got control of the situation. By then, it was too late.

One shot had missed, but one had gone through the meat of Spencer's bicep while another hit his shoulder. They'd been aiming high, away from the children still under him. The pain swirled in with the agony Spencer was already under. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.