51

They spent the following week in sullen silence. Sam occasionally sat at the piano and played something which had Spencer been feeling a bit more inclined to favour Sam, would have said it was very good. It was technically wonderful and Sam knew that, but it lacked emotion. Floyd didn't comment on it, but gave Sam a smile and getting a smile out of Floyd was like finding a million bucks in your bank account.

It was almost unheard of, stomach churning… and very obviously a mistake.

Floyd wasn't in a smiling mood. He threw things at Spencer and Sam to get their attention rather than speaking to them. He wouldn't cook, he prepared his own meals and if the other two starved then that was their look out. Floyd paced. Floyd picked at the skin around his fingernails. Floyd spent every night staring out of the front window. He didn't go to bed. He didn't seem to be sleeping… (surely that was one of the things he moaned about losing?) He smoked too much… again he stood always with a cheroot between his lips… like if he didn't have it there he'd fall into a pile of dust. He drank too much. The stock of whiskey had been almost depleted when he finally ordered Spencer out of the house to go and get more.

Spencer drove to the local liquor store and Sam took the chance to get out of the suffocating atmosphere of the house and went with him.

'Not because I like you.' Sam let Spencer know. 'I just hate you less than I mistrust Floyd.' He spoke in a quite voice with a small tremble to it as he looked out of the van window. 'What are we going to do, Spence? We can't live like that. It's horrible. It's like I don't know if I'm going to get my neck broken for nothing at any moment.'

The van slowed down at an intersection and as Spencer drove through it he pulled over into a small parking lot. It wasn't at the liquor store. He wanted to talk to Sam. 'Do you know what Floyd means when he says he has ten years? Has he made a deal with someone?'

Sam pulled a pack of Pall Malls out of the glove compartment and lit one up, he then passed one over to Spencer who took it with a nod and wound down his window. 'He made a deal to keep you alive for ten years. They wanted you dead and he made some deal. I don't know the exact details of it, but it was all part of the Az thing at The Bastion. He did what they asked him to do there in exchange for your life.'

It wasn't what Spencer had been expecting. He thought it was Floyd's life that was coming to an end. 'I should be dead?'

'The Book of the Dead put your name down years ago. Floyd has been making deals all over the fucking place because he can't bare to be without you. How fucking pathetic is that? You were only meant to live to about twenty-five or something. I forget the exact age, it might have even been younger, but he's been making deals and with each one he has to give up part of what he is… so this shit is all your fault, because he's not the man he used to be. Not half.'

'So if I die…'

'Don't even think about that! Are you fucking stupid? You know he'll just make another deal and get you back at his side again. I don't know what it is about you, but you've broken him. He can go through all that crap he went through in all of those thousands of years and it was one little fucking mortal who finally broke him. You would think by the way he talks that it was that bastard Little River or that fucking Anthony, but nope, that's more of a smoke screen he puts up. He loves you. He shouldn't. But he does. He doesn't love me and he should. I am his immortality. I will carry on where he leaves off because I think that when you leave and your soul is taken then Floyd will go too. Shall we get that drink for him? He's easier to handle when drunk.' Sam flicked his fingers over Spencer's leg. 'I only hate you because you take away the attention I want. I only hate you because I want to spend hundreds of years learning from him and I only have ten. You've effectively killed Floyd. That's why I hate you.'

Spencer flicked his spent smoke out of the window and turned to look at Sam. 'Ten years is about my life span? I wont live to…'

'No. You wont. No matter what Floyd wants. So now you know what's going on shall we get him his drink and try to keep his as out of it as possible?'

'We can't do that for ten years. And why would we want to? Why do I want to keep Floyd inebriated when time is so short?'

Sam raised his eyebrows at Spencer. 'He's insane. He was always bonkers but he could sort of control it.'

'He would never truly hurt me. I know that. And now you've told me what you have, I'm even more sure of it. What we need to do is to go and help him. Offer him support and give him meaning to his life.' Spencer started up the van's motor again and began to turn back towards home.

There was a small but hard hand resting on Spencer's arm. 'You tell him what I just said and he will kill me and then blame you. Don't say a word, and he'll want his drink. You can't go back with no drink. He'll wonder why.'

Again Spencer pulled the van over and turned off the engine. 'Very well. I will get him his drink this time, but it's the last time. I'm going to do my best to get off the drugs and it would be nice if you did too. If we could all get clean and sober we might have a chance to change things… ten years… damn.' Spencer thumped the steering wheel. 'I want to ask you something.'

Sam reached over and placed a hand between Spencer's legs. 'I'd say yes but he would know.'

Why did it always come to that with Sam? Why couldn't he just not assume that it was about sex… just once. It would be refreshing. 'Can you survive alone for ten years?'

The pale fingers quickly left the warmth of Spencer's groin. 'Alone?'

'I'm asking you to leave. Go and make a life… come back and be there for Floyd when I'm gone.'

Sam pulled open the van door and snapped of his seat belt. 'You mother fucker! You bastard! You squeeze secrets out of me then tell me to fuck off and come back to pick up the pieces you've left? NO! I wont! I'm going to be around and I'm going to help and I'm going to have him fuck me, because that's what I like. I'm walking home. I don't want to be seen with you. You're such a wanker! Why does he like you so much? Why does he favour you over me? What have you got that I haven't? Arsehole!' Someone walked past where the van was parked and Sam took the opportunity to wailed and shout. 'You fuck! I'm only sixteen! I'm a kid! I don't want your hands all over me! You dirty bastard!' He slammed the van door and grinned up through the window, giving Spencer an obscene gesture as he went. Reid didn't bother trying to persuade Sam back into the van, he drove off and left the little trouble maker standing alone and twitching in the parking lot. He would have a long walk home.

There was doubt in Spencer's mind that anything Sam had said was truth, but it could have been. He stopped off and picked up the drink Floyd wanted. That part of what Sam had said had been correct. It would look strange going home with no alcohol. More strange than going home with no Sam.

A car parked in the street. Outside his home. A big black car. An SUV. The Feds were back. Why the hell couldn't they be left in peace for a while? Long enough to mend and heal, but Rossi, as it seemed to be Rossi in charge of about everything now just wouldn't leave alone. He had to keep picking over the wounds… pick, pick picking all the time.

Spencer let out a long sigh and picked up the six bottles he'd purchased. He walked slowly to the front door, up the porch steps. The front door was open and muttered voices were coming from inside. He placed the bottles on the hall table and walked into the lounge. Surprise, surprise, Spencer had been right. It was Rossi.

Since the murders (at least Spencer was assuming there had been murders) the week before when Floyd got his lighter and wallet back, nothing had been reported anywhere. It slightly confused Spencer. There had been a lot of blood on Floyd and it had come from somewhere… for now he was content that the laundry had been done and things put away. Floyd had even picked bits out of his hair, though he'd not washed it… or washed his body since. Both of them looked over at Spencer who was standing in the open lounge doorway. 'Sorry to disturb you.' The looks he was getting weren't particularly welcoming.

'It's all right Spencer. Join us.' Rossi gestured across to the tatty leather chair which had once been Spencer's single most prized treasure but was now scraped, torn and stained beyond comfort. He walked on legs which didn't much want to bend and sat with a sigh into the chair. It still felt good to sit in, even if a strange smell wafted from it. It was almost like comforting arms wrapped themselves around him. He sat with hands clutching hold of the arm wrests and looked from Floyd to Rossi and back again.

'Is there a problem?' Spencer asked. Of course there was a problem! The problem was Rossi!

'No problem.' Floyd spoke smoothly and calmly. Too smooth… too calm. 'Where is Sam?' He added.

'He wanted to walk back. I've got what you wanted.' Spencer nodded in the direction of the hallway. He didn't want to say he'd been out getting drink for Floyd, though why he didn't want to he wasn't sure. Spencer bit down on his bottom lip and twitched a smile.

'The Feds have come grovelling.' Floyd told Spencer. 'They've found something and need and expert to have a look.' Floyd now turned to Rossi. 'We have been down this road before. I don't work well with the Feds, especially as you accuse me of every murder and oddness in the world. Why would I work for you? I don't need money. I don't need your appreciation. I don't much like you and I have no liking for authority. So, why come to me? There must be others.'

Rossi nodded and picked up the mug which was sitting in front of him. 'There are others. You're right. I can give you a long list of murderers and serial killers who eat parts of their victims, but none of them are mentally competent. They can't hold a conversation and don't have the minds which would lead us to believe that they are actually helping. We've not come to you first. There are other people on our list. Other criminals walking the streets who we go to and they talk to us sometimes and other times they don't.'

'The world is a dangerous place Dave.' Floyd mocked. 'So you went to other people first and could they help? Did they help? Did they give you answers they didn't like? Why are you here?'

Rossi swilled the drink around in his mug as he thought of how to answer. 'Everyone by default becomes an expert as soon as they kill their first victim. They have done it for a reason. They've worked it all out in their heads… obviously I'm talking about the sort who prey on someone, not a random act. None of those we've talked to so far actually know what we have asked. You're a last resort.'

Spencer twitched nervously. He didn't like that. He really didn't like that Floyd had been a last resort. That wouldn't sit well with Floyd's ego. He fidgeted and wriggled in his chair as the panic began to grow, but when Floyd spoke he still seemed calm.

'Last time I helped you my words were hardly out of my head and I was being attacked physically and verbally. I don't think I want to work along side you again. I don't want to travel to some remote hill billy shit splat farm and look at bones. You'll have to keep looking for someone to assist you. I'm not available. Spencer stop that! Go and see if Sam's on his way back. I assume you had an quarrel again? What about this time?'

Spencer shook his head to quiet Floyd. 'It was nothing. Nothing major.' He unfolded himself from the chair and walked from the room. He didn't go looking for Sam. He stood just beyond the door with his back pressed to the wall, listening.

'The bones are with us. All you will have to do is come down to the lab and have a look. Tell us what you see.' Rossi spoke quietly. He didn't really want Spencer to hear what he was proposing. The ex-Agent might start to object.

'And why would I want you to have information on the bones? You say there are tooth and tool marks? It sounds like someone after my own heart, Rossi. Why would I want them captured?'

There was silence for a while. Spencer was sure that they knew he was listening. He was getting cramp in his leg and his scalp was itching. He wanted to move but dare not unless either Floyd or Rossi knew that he was listening.

'They are ancient bones, Floyd. Much too old for the criminal to still be alive.'

Again there was an odd silence.

And then Floyd spoke. 'Old bones? I don't understand why you're investigating them.'

'It's all part of the job. Obviously if you don't want to I would understand. But your expertise would be paid.'

A sound of movement and Spencer took the chance to move from the wall to the front door. It sounded to Spencer as though Floyd had stood and was now pacing. 'I'll look, but I don't know what you expect me to say. Really does it matter? It's not as though you will be able to identify the victim and you can't bring the culprit to your laws, so I don't see the reason.'

Most scuffling and movement. Probably Rossi getting to his feet. 'Well now is a good time for me.'

Spencer opened the front door and walked out of ear shot. Damn the man! Damn him! He was taking Floyd away and he'd be left here to try to amuse Sam. It really wasn't what he wanted. He sat on the bottom step and looked down the road in the direction Sam would come from. Someone walked down the steps and sat next to him. An arm wrapped around his waist. 'I'll not be long.' Floyd licked at Spencer's ear as he spoke. 'I really don't know what it is they want from me.'

'Maybe it's a trap.' Spencer whispered back.

'I don't detect a lie on him.'

'He's an expert profiler. He is good at lying. We all are.' Spencer hissed back. 'Just be very careful what you say. You only need to admit to one small thing and they'll have reason to keep you locked away and right now I don't think you'd survive that. Promise me.'

The arm tightened for a moment. 'I promise I will be careful what I say. It's easier to co-operate than to tell them to piss off. They get suspicious. They will keep coming back.'

'They will never leave us alone.' Spencer moaned.

'Then let me get this over with. I'll contact you if I need to. No phones necessary. Stay cool… like Fonzie.' Floyd slapped Spencer on the back and then stood. 'I'm ready.'

'You're drunk.' Spencer told him as he swept a hand over the back of Floyd's calf. 'Please come back soon. Rossi!' Spencer turned to the Agent who used to be part of the team Spencer worked on. 'Please bring him home to me soon. Bring him home. Don't just let him loose. He's been drinking a lot.'

There was no reply, but a tight nod and the pair of them walked away. Floyd with a reluctant stride and Rossi with a I won the prize look on his face. Spencer knew what happened to people who got themselves caught up in this game of possession and the end result was never very nice.

Spencer had thought it was a trap. Maybe he'd been correct. Floyd was standing in the doorway of the morgue feeling less than comfortable again. it reminded him a bit of the feeling he had gotten when Spencer had asked about Poland. Ridiculous but there you go. It wasn't the same feeling… but it was similar… not panic, or fear, or grief… but something which niggled in the back of his head and sent out a jingle jangle of alarm down his spine.

'Well I think I've changed my mind.' Floyd told Rossi. He'd not even stepped into the room. He really didn't want to step into the room. 'I have a feeling that if I go in there that I might get angry.' Floyd stepped back. A buzzing filled his head… a crying buzzing sound. Floyd placed his hands over his ears and cocked his head to one side. 'Where the fuck did you find those bone?'

Rossi smiled. He actually stretched that ugly face and gave Floyd a smile. 'There's nothing to be alarmed about.'

Oh but there was! There certainly was. 'Where did you get the bones?'

'Various places. They're not all from the same victim.'

Floyd nodded and shook his head and placed a hand now on the wall as thought to steady himself. 'They need to be returned. You can't just go around digging up bodies which have been laid to rest. You can't do that. Never disturb the dead. It brings such misfortune on you that it's not even something I want to imagine. Take them back to where they came from.'

It wasn't going to be that easy though. Rossi took Floyd by the elbow and lead him into the room.

A scream ripped through Floyd's mind. A deathly horrific scream which made Floyd's eyes water. 'This is all very wrong. You don't know what you're messing with.'

'We don't. But you are going to tell us.' Rossi assured Flanders.

He was guided to a metal table with a few plastic containers sitting on it. The screaming seemed to be coming from one of them, the buzzing from another and just a deep dark groan from somewhere else. Rossi pulled on latex gloves and handed a pair to Floyd. 'Fucking fuck.' Floyd mumbled as he put them on and stared at the boxes. 'Before you open one… do that first.' He pointed to the screamer. 'I want that one out of the way, but first I need you to tell me where you got the bones.'

Rossi gave Floyd a curious look and nodded. 'Someone exploring some ancient caverns in Nevada came across them.'

The twitch on the side of Floyd's face wasn't missed my Rossi. 'Ah ha.' Floyd sighed. 'They need to be returned. The dead don't like to have their parts scattered. It's bad for the… for the spirit. It's upsetting.'

'They've been there a long time, Floyd. They're not recent.'

'Does it matter? One hundred or two thousand? Does it matter? It's grave robbing. It's nothing less. These bones need to be returned I'll not even look at them or go further with this game until you tell me that they will be returned and not stuck in a box in some museum store room.'

'You can be surprisingly sensitive to the most strange things. I can't promise you that they will be returned. That's not my decision to make but I will make your request known. Now can we have a look.'

It was as Floyd thought. He really didn't have to look very far. He knew the bones and he had a damned good idea that Rossi knew that too. Floyd waved his hand over them without touching and then wiped sweat off his brow with his forearm. 'You want a cause of death?' Floyd asked.

'I don't think that's possible, but I would like to know what you make of the tool marks and other abnormalities.'

So he dipped his hand into the screaming box. He lifted it up to his face and smiled at it. 'A screamer. He screamed so much… poor…' He paused. '…boy… it's a boy. The meat has been stripped with a tool. Probably a sharpened stone? He was found in a cave so I'd assume that much. The patterns have been carved in afterwards obviously. This bone has been hardened over heat. He ran a finger down it…' He could see the lad standing there in his ragged clothing. He had begged to be left alone. He'd screamed and cried, but it had been no good. His skull was crushed and he was cooked up for dinner. Just another animal. That's all he was. He would have had no life anyway. Poor kid. A screamer until his last breath. He bones had been… 'The bones are marked as an act of respect. It's to make sure… it's like a head stone or grave marker. It's not an uncommon thing to do when you eat… when you – it's not uncommon for bones to be marked like that after they're stripped.' Floyd dropped the bone and picked up another. 'Not the same person.' He ran fingers over the bone. 'Yet found in the same place. This has also been stripped, but by hand. No tools used this time. This bone has been air dried and then marked.' Floyd glanced at the other boxes and frowned. 'I'm sorry, that's all I can do. I need to go home.'

'Would you at least look at this?' Rossi pulled over a smaller container and opened the lid. A skull sat neatly in the bottom. 'What do you think?'

Floyd backed away. 'Think? What do I think? I think you've gone mad. What do you want me to tell you?' He had given the contents just one very quick glance. He didn't need to look closer.

'There are six of them. All the same size and all the same shape.'

'Really? How interesting. Now I'm going. This was a voluntary attempt to help you. I can't. You need to put all of these things back where they were found.'

'A reason why maybe? A guess?'

Floyd didn't have to guess. He knew the answer. Floyd wasn't going to tell Rossi the answer though. He backed slowly out of the room and as he left the buzzing and screaming died back slightly. 'I have to go. You have no idea what you've done by removing those from where they'd been rested. No idea! You idiot! If I was to go dig up bones from a cemetery I'd be done for desecration. But you seem to have no problem doing the same. The spirits will be angry. They will come and seek revenge. They will come and they will…' Floyd turned and marched down the corridor the way he'd come. '…they will want answers Rossi! They will demand to know why they've been disturbed from their sleep! They will need to know! And I want no part of this exercise.'

Rossi caught up with Flanders in the parking lot. Floyd had a cheroot between his lips. His face looked pale and sweaty. He looked like he was on the verge of panic. It wasn't the result Rossi had expected. He thought Floyd would get into this and enjoy the moment. It seemed that the direct opposite had occurred. 'Floyd.' Rossi placed a calming hand on Floyd's arm. 'Explain. You've inspected bones for us in the past. You didn't have this reaction to it last time.'

Floyd sneered at Rossi. 'Last time! Last time… that's funny Dave. That's fucking hilarious. Those remains had enchantments placed on them. They were protected remains. They were vessels. You are messing with demonic things way beyond your understanding. I advise you the best I can and that is to put them back where they were found. Or failing that, if you really insist, have someone remove the bindings; the spells. A witch will do it for you. But you'll need to find the right sort. I can't do it.' It was ridiculous… obviously a stupid witch couldn't remove a spell placed by something demonic… or even by Floyd.

'What sort of enchantment?' Keeping Floyd on side, Rossi did his best not to laugh at Floyd. 'What does it do? And why was it put there in the first place.'

Floyd brushed Dave's hand off him and turned. 'Have you heard the old stories that the ancients believed that by devouring the body of the fallen you also take in their mind, their memories and intelligence?' Rossi nodded. 'Well that's what. When something is done properly and time is taken… when you take the brain along with the heart and the liver then that person becomes a part of you. You treat the bones with a kind of respect. They are no longer just a bag of meat, they are part of you. You don't want someone coming along and messing with that. It causes disruptions. So you place enchantments on the bones to bind them with yourself. Just eating the flesh isn't enough. You have to own everything. All of it. You have to leave your mark so that others know. Time passes. Old traditions get overlaid with new thoughts and ideas. People place new reasoning and things change. It's now thought of as wrong to eat the flesh of your own. The reasons become traditions rather than a spiritual and religious reason. That doesn't mean that those old reasons are no longer real. They might be forgotten, but that doesn't make them wrong. Can you see that? I need to go home. This has sickened me as much as grave robbery would sicken you.'

'Are you telling me that you still believe in those old ways? That by eating the brain you take in part of the knowledge held in it.'

Floyd didn't answer. It was obvious – at least he thought it was. Of course that was how it worked. Maybe not for the likes of Rossi, but certainly for the likes of Floyd. Why else did he remove the hearts and livers of so many of his kills? He had to take the spirits and the life force… the brains… oh sweet… delicious… 'Who located all of those remains?' Floyd asked. 'It wasn't the BAU… what is your interest in it anyway?'

'They were brought to us by a collector. He thought they would interest me… on a personal level. And in turn I thought they would interest you… again on a personal level.'

'Interest is hardly the right word.' Floyd threw down the cheroot butt and walked towards Rossi's SUV.