2

For Spencer, that first evening alone was not boring so much as peaceful, at least that is what he was trying to tell himself. He would admit that he would have rather have been at home with his things and his life, but that was not going to happen, therefore he was making the most of what he had. An empty room and a TV with bad reception. There was the occasional sound from outside, laughing voices, a car revving, ready to leave. A dog barked just the once and a car alarm bleeped for a few minutes. That was all though. Reid was tired and hungry. There was a small shop just around the corner and he planned on going there and buying some snacks and better quality coffee and more sugar. He sighed and for a while lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if it would be a good idea or not to let Floyd know where he was. His thoughts then drifted to the arguments which would follow. Demands that he did as he was told, like a child. Eyes closed, Spencer attempted to go to sleep, just for a short while. Just to recharge and be ready for that exciting trip to SuperValue around the corner. Didn't happen. It just made his eyes water and a dreadful ache inside his gut; not hunger, but certainly some kind of loss. It travelled, the pain did… it made its way up to his head where it settled at the front of his brain, sending out tendrils or spikes of pain in a circle, eventually wrapping around and tightening in. He rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips and slowly got up.

The trip to the shop was so uneventful that Spencer had to double check what he had bought just to make sure he'd actually been and it wasn't some kind of weird dream. But no. The new coffee was on the side as was a plastic pack with a premade ham sandwich. He prodded the transparent window on the container and wondered what had made him buy such a revolting thing! He checked the receipt he had stuffed down in his jacket pocket and there it was, one ham sandwich, he'd bought it.

It was *The Madness* - he was sure of it. Something creeping around in his brain, forcing him to do things he wouldn't normally do. One fine sunny day, at some point in the future he would be wondering the streets, confused, alone, and completely insane. Spencer was sure of it. It didn't matter how many tests he had, or how many times he was told that there was no real risk of it, Spencer knew that his time would eventually come. No one could go through what he had and not have some type of brain malfunction. He took a couple of pain killers, made sure the door and window was locked, had a quick shower and then rested back on the bed. Oddly he fell asleep almost as soon as he rolled over onto his stomach and hugged the pillow.

o-o-o

The chair, Spencer's chair, was dragged into the bedroom and pushed over against the wall in the corner. The bed was stripped down to the mattress and slightly green water which had a scent of cat piss was sprinkled over it… muttered words hissed between teeth. The pictures on the walls all over the apartment were turned around. The rug was taken up in the lounge and shoved into the hallway cupboard. It took a while, but all books on the shelves were turned with the spine inwards. Floyd sat on the couch, feet up on the coffee table and sipped on overly sweet coffee and sent good wishes to his boys who he was quite sure were going to have a lovely week or so off.

Obviously there was a slight irritation that his boys were not here, yet would they enjoyed drunken and drugged debauchery, well Sam might, but Spencer wouldn't be so into that. If you wanted to ask Floyd's opinion on the matter, he would likely tell you to fuck off, so probably not worth the bother.

o-o-o

Jack was having a few days away! Oh the excitement. He would be back before Christmas, of course he would, but staying with friends for a few days was going to be great! With that part of the problem sorted and Jack packed up and gone before Sam could argue about it, Hotch had some things to talk about.

'Last night.' Hotch started with that statement, as Sam stood there in some very tight grey shorts which showed off his butt, and a very cropped red top to cover nipples.

Sam frowned. He was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, elbows on the counter and a plastic plate with toast and jam laying there slowly getting cold. 'It was a misunderstanding. You know why. You fucking set me up to fail before I could blink. That was purposeful. I don't like it when people do that sort of thing to me. It's bad enough when it's sort of planned or just me being a prat, but for you to set me up to fail like that… I thought better of you, Aaron. I like you. Did you know that I actually like you? I discard the wretched look you always have – and I gave you a chance to prove yourself, but you don't do the same for me. Disappointing.'

Hotch sat the other side of the counter, placing two glasses of orange juice there and pushing one of them towards Sam. 'At no point in any discussions we had, did I say you could get into my bed. Not once. I gave you the spare room to sleep in. I trusted you and the first chance you get, you have to do something as base and vulgar as that. I can't trust you around my boy.'

'Your boy wasn't in the bed. And you did say I could share with you. You told me to put something on to wear in bed! What else could you have possibly meant? Don't back-pedal. You're really twisting what you said to get out of it. I didn't even grope you or anything. I'd not got further than licking the back of your neck and you were all up and out of bed and shouting at me! I'd not done anything! I still don't know what the fucking problem is and what makes you think I'd want to do anything to Jack! He's a kid! You think I'm a kiddy fiddler now? I would more put that label on you! You're the one inviting me to stay and offering up your bed to share! Fucking hell! What sort of a person do you think I am? Look at me, Aaron! Look at me. How old do I look? I have this rare genetic thing going on and I don't look as old as I really am. I drank from the fountain of youth and will forever look like this. That doesn't mean I am. And I don't fuck kids. Fuck you! How could you accuse me of that! I didn't go near Jack!' Sam took a breath. 'I'm not like Floyd.' He concluded and picked up his glass of juice. 'And I'm in pain and need some pills. Where did you hide them?'

o-o-o

Spencer jerked awake when someone started to hammer on the door of the room he was staying in.

'A moment!' He called and the noise stopped, but somehow Spencer knew that someone was outside. Floyd? Had he found him and come to get him? He was just pleased that he'd thought to shower before falling asleep. He went quickly to the door and pulled back the lock and swung the door open.

It wasn't who he expected.

o-o-o

Dave had booked a cruise. He was right now halfway across the other side of the world, sunning himself on the deck and sipping alcohol and praising all that could be praised that even if there was a disaster somewhere back home, he was here… in the middle of the sea. Blue sea which stretched out forever. Nope, Dave was unavailable. Didn't matter how hard you hammered on his door or how many stones you threw at the kitchen windows and it didn't matter if someone howled like a dog through the mail slot, Dave wouldn't hear.

o-o-o

Different for Emily, though. Very different.

We all have regrets. Opening the door to someone without checking who it is, that's one of them. Many more too. Oh so many more.

'Oh. It's you.'

Sam dropped his bag at Emily's feet and stood with hands on hips and sighed a big wobbly sigh. 'Sorry if it's such a disappointment, but we get along fine, don't we? I mean really we don't have a problem, do we?' He pushed the bag into the apartment with the toe of his pink boots, and crept forward so he was himself over Emily's threshold. 'I wasn't going to come to you because I assumed you'd have your girls here doing girly stuff with each other and I didn't want to watch that dirty, dirty stuff, so I tried other places first. You know how it is though.' Sam pushed by Emily and strode into her lounge where he threw himself down onto her lovely couch with squashy cushions and a view over the city – the bright lights which twinkled like some kind of pagan blessing upon the world – but it was daytime so no lights yet.

'What do you want?' Emily asked. For some odd reason she didn't sound very happy.

'A coffee would be lovely.' Sam replied.

'What do you want with me, in my home, now?'

Sam glanced up and shrugged. 'You going to bitch at me? What do you expect me to do? Walk the streets? Pick pockets and rob people to get enough money so I don't have to sleep behind the bins at the back of the shops, or sell my arse, cock and mouth to some diseased trollop? Everyone is surprising me recently. First Floyd chucks me out and then Spencer bitches at me and I can't go with him. And then Hotch accuses me of being a junky whore slut… really… it was all him. I didn't do a damned thing! Then Dave's not there. Or he just wouldn't open the door to me. You are my last hope, Emily. My very last hope and I'll sleep on the couch and I won't watch you in the shower and I'll keep out of your private room and keep my hands off you. Just a week or so.'

'I'll give you the money to book a room somewhere.' She still didn't sound happy.

Sam glared lovingly at Emily. 'I appreciate the offer. That's very – um, thoughtful of you, especially around this time of the year when the cost of rooms skyrockets to a stupidly insane amount of money, but no. Better if I stay here and you can put my morphine somewhere safe so I don't overdose, because I'm so depressed that no one likes me enough to offer me a bed when I'm obviously in distress.'

'Distress.' Emily repeated that last word to echo how she was feeling. 'You can't stay here, Sam. Not because – well yes – because I don't think – it's just not right.'

She walked to the kitchen, glancing at Sam's tatty bag and trying to figure out how to get this nasty creature out of her apartment. She could already smell him, though she had to admit that it wasn't a bad smell. It was an overly strong smell of roses. It was a smell Sam often carried with him. Whether it was a good or bad smell she didn't want it in her comfortable and safe (usually) home.

Making coffee didn't take her too long. A jug was already made up and so all she had to do was pour into a couple of mugs and then add sugar. Sam took his coffee black, as she did herself. When she looked around, Sam was there watching.

'It's not that I don't like you…' She started.

Sam cut her off with a wave of his hand. 'Actually it is. I know you don't like me, not in the same way Hotch does. It's Floyd you like sniffing around.'

Emily raised her well maintained eyebrows. 'I do not sniff around him! Can't you see that this is the reason people can't have you staying at their places? And certainly not for more than one night. You make accusations which are just not how things are. You say that you're older than you appear. You've said that many times, but you act like a child. A very uncooperative child with some sort of malfunction going on somewhere. Drink the coffee and we will try to figure out where you can stay for Christmas. There are shelters.'

'No.' Sam took the coffee and blew over the top. 'There are not any shelters which will allow me through their doors. I'm banned from all of them. Ridiculous I know. It's not how things should be, but I'm on morphine and that's not considered being clean. Like Spencer, you know? Like Spencer, I've not injected for a couple of years, or months… Okay there was that stuff I took a few weeks ago, but really it was just that once or twice and how can you say no to something like that? Know what I mean? And my crack pipe hasn't been used since, well… it was before I went to stay with Hotch, so a couple of days now, but apart from that, there's been little or no drug use. I don't count smoking the herbs. They're not real drugs.'

Emily wondered, as she listened to Sam babbling on, how he could say so much and not take a breath. He spoke quickly, giving no chance to stop and add something to what he was saying. 'One night and no drugs.' She finally said. 'And you cannot be here Christmas day. Do you understand that?' She pulled on the front of her blouse, suddenly feeling that there was some creepy creature looking through the fabric at what she had on under it. There was a temptation to tell him to stop whatever that was he was doing, but that would have let him know that whatever it was, it was working. She put a sweater on. A big baggy sweater which covered her down to mid-thigh and she hoped it would stop the feeling she was getting.

'That smell.' She suddenly said as she sat on a small wooden chair in the lounge. 'That smell you carry around with you. It reminds me of something.'

'Soap. They sell it in a shop downtown. It's quite beautiful. Rose soap.' Sam grinned.

Emily shook her head at him. 'No. Not soap. More like that spray which can be used in the bathroom.'

'The one to cover up the smell of shit? You telling me I smell of shit? Really?' Sam stood. 'May I have a shower? Do you have some nice smelling stuff I can use?'

Now, finally, a real look of distress on his face. She pointed in the direction of the bathroom. 'Help yourself. Take your time. I'll put a pizza in the oven – or at least get one ready for later.'

o-o-o

Spencer woke up in the dark. He had no memory of going back to sleep after answering the door, or who it was standing there when he did. It wasn't Floyd or Sam, he knew that much, but apart from that… he tried to wipe away some stray hair off his face only to realise that he had been tied up. Hands in front of him, so the hair was still wiped, but he couldn't actually see where he was. The floor was hard, his back was to a wall. There was a sound of dripping water and a smell of somewhere old. That soggy cardboard and old cars sort of smell. It reminded him of nothing. But the thought rattled through his sleepy brain that his idea about spending the next week somewhere almost nice had been put on hold.

Should he call out? Ask what was going on? Struggle to get away? Were there monsters watching from the corners of the room? No red eyes were looking his way – hopefully he was alone for now. He wiggled his toes and pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them, hands secured and laying on his lap. He was clothed! That was a damned good start. It didn't feel as though anything had been done to him. Not yet at least. He wasn't going to raise hopes too high for now. Floyd would find him. He would come looking and he would rescue him. That was a good thought. If someone or something had snatched him, then he would be missed. Except no-one knew where he had been. He wasn't at Dave's, where he would be expected to be. Now, Spencer thought what a fool he had been for not making that quick call to Floyd to let him know.

A door creaked. He could hear footsteps. A clank of something being put down on the floor and voice. The voice of a girl. A child. 'A drink.' She said. 'The light will be put on and your hands untied, but only if you behave. Don't even think of escaping. There's rules to follow and he won't be doing with you messing things around. Understand?'

Spencer nodded and tried to see who it was talking to him. 'Floyd? Are you talking about Floyd?'

There was a sniff of a laugh. 'No… fool. No. But damn is he going to go off on one when he can't find you! It's going to be so funny.' Then the sound of her walking away and that creak of the door again. Spencer was plunged back into a cold, damp silence.