4

Pulsating.

Floyd knew something had gone slightly wrong.

His whole body felt as though a pygmy had been trampling on him and twisting his nipples.

The rest of him: pulsating.

Finally he could move a few more bits of his body. Holding his hands up in front of his face was one of those things. He could turn them palm out and he could lay them on his sticky stomach and even prod one finger at a time into his belly button. Turning his head to check up on Spencer's chair was achieved on day two. He stank of cat's piss and had a fleeting thought that maybe that was what he had sprinkled over the mattress. Life was being very strange. Messages sent out via his brain to the brains of his boys didn't work. It was blocked in the cotton wool and horsehair which had apparently taken up residence in his head. This was likely the reason he was having trouble moving.

He needed a smoke.

He needed a drink.

Very much, he needed to be able to move enough to get off the damned bed and waving his hands in front of his face didn't seem to be doing the job.

Spencer?

Sammy?

Nope. Nothing getting through to anywhere yet.

It took a week. A whole fucking week! Maybe. Perhaps it was only a few hours or even a month. Time swivelled and swayed in so many directions that Floyd couldn't keep tabs on what was going on. He knew that he at one point had managed to drag himself to the hallway. He had even got to his knees and crawled to the lounge only to discover that it was in perfect order and it didn't appear that anyone had been revelling in there after all. Odd. Unless his friends had cleared the mess up for him, or as he was beginning to wonder, it had never happened in the first place. Kneeling was good. He could do that and rest elbows on the couch and close his eyes with his head relaxing there between them. It was comfortable until his feet started to tingle and go numb.

Getting out of the apartment had been fine, though he banged against the walls and didn't think that using the stairs was the most sensible thing he had ever attempted. He crawled down them, backwards. Drooling maybe just a bit and singing a song he remembered from somewhere but had forgotten where. Life was good! He was walking, thinking, seeing and he knew where his boys where and so to Dave's he went, it being the closest. Or the furthest? Didn't matter he was going to get on his bike and… no… he was going to get a cab, actually. He didn't think he quite had the balance to bike it there and didn't want to accidentally fuck everything up by damaging it. He gave it a stroke though and stood on the street grinning – which might have been why people were staring at him – but finally something pulled up and he slipped into the back, giving Dave's address.

'Can you stop that?' The driver spoke to Floyd via the rear view mirror.

Floyd grinned back. It was actually hurting to keep his face like that, but he had an idea that it was stuck. 'Stop what?'

'Grinning like that. You're giving me the creeps, man.'

Floyd pulled his face back into a more normal look and wondered why he'd not killed the man for talking to him like that, but this person was being of use for now. A slaughter would not get him to Dave's.

Knocking with some degree of politeness didn't get Dave to answer the door. Pressing the bell until his finger ached got him nowhere, either. However, it was not impossible to get into Dave's house via the rear door. The place seemed abandoned. Or at least, Dave wasn't there and nor was Spencer. Searching the house and the liquor cabinet only found Floyd some wine, which he quickly drank from the bottle and a small bottle of whisky which slipped nicely into a pocket for now. Upstairs the beds were made up, but there was no sign of Spencer, again. He pulled all the clothing out of wardrobes and drawers and left it strewn over the very nice carpeted flooring. Do you know how dirty carpets are? No Floyd didn't either but the germs lingering in and on them was quite high. They were really, if you thought about it, quite vile. Looked nice, but Floyd wouldn't have licked one. At least not today.

It actually appeared that Rossi was not there and by the faint amount of dust on the top of the dresser, seemed he'd not been here for a while, which if turn meant that his Spencer hadn't been here either, which was now a puzzlement for Floyd. Where the merry hell was his boy.

He left Dave's via the back door again, not bothering to secure it, but he did think to close it behind him. Nothing there worth taking. Unless you wanted old man's baggy jeans and nasty shirts. Which would be no good to man nor beast now they had been laying on that filthy carpet. Vacuuming them did nothing. Steam cleaning didn't do anything but make the fibres damp and a breeding ground for bacteria.

Which that dirty thought on his mind and the grin gone, he found another cab and directed it to Hotch's place where he was going to collect Sam and find out from him where Spencer was, because if you asked Sam, he fucking well knew everything. Bloody know-all bastard child… not a child… no. Sam was an adult. Probably. Maybe. Depending on how much you had been drinking. The cab dropped him off at the end of the street. Floyd fancied some fresh air and a thought. Some time to consider things.

He used the bell at Hotch's place. He would expect him to knock. He would recognise Floyds hammering fist but not the ding dong of the stupid arse bell. The door was opened on the security chain and Hotch's normal scowling face peeked through the gap.

'Go away. Leave before I call someone and have you removed.'

Floyd thought his was rather rude. Considered fleetingly if he should reach through the gap and tear the bastard's throat out and as this was the season of goodwill, changed his mind.

'Just here for Sam.'

Hotch shook his head. 'He's not here.'

'Ah.' Floyd frowned and tucked his slightly dirty and cat piss scented hair behind his ears. 'When will he be back? Not here to cause trouble. Just time he came home.'

Again the wanker shook his head at Floyd. Was he really on a death wish here? 'He only stayed one night. Then left.'

'Ah-ha.' Floyd now shook his head at Hotch. 'He's not here? I told him to come here. Where did he go?'

'I've no idea. I assumed he went home.'

Floyd backed slightly away from the door. 'You threw him out? This time of the year? Am I going to have to search all and every backstreet for a frozen corpse which his pants around his ankles? I don't understand you. I really thought you were the sort of person who would know. Get me? I thought with your job and stuff that you would understand why you don't chuck someone like Sam out onto the fucking streets! This time of the year? Now? You confuse the shit out of me. Can I come in? A coffee maybe? A chat?'

'No.' The door slammed shut and Floyd was left there standing on Hotch's doorstep wishing he'd gone with the throat ripping idea.

'Motherfucker.' Floyd spat at the door, then walked back down the pathway to sit on the curb and think. There had been no smell when Hotch had opened the door. There was a smell of food and drink, but not of Sam. He really wasn't there. It wasn't some sort of trick. Floyd hated to be fooled by arseholes like Hotchner, but now there were only a couple of options left.

He walked to the local cop shop and stood at the counter, patting it with his palms and shouting demands until someone finally came to ask what the hell it was he was after.

'My boy. Is he here, been pulled in for flashing his arse, drunk, drugs? Picking pockets? Anything? Sam. You'd know him. This tall, dark hair and eyes. Dresses like a faggot. Usually high as a kite and a bit of a mouth on him.'

The description didn't fit anyone they had seen over the holidays. They asked if he needed a nice warm cell to rest his damp and dirty head and body on for a day or two, or was he going to leave?

'Can you contact the hospitals for me? He's gone missing.'

He was asked to wait outside and they would make a few calls for him. Floyd waited inside and paced and smoked and drank some whiskey until they finally said that as far as they knew, his Sam was not locked up and not in hospital, now could he please get out of the building and maybe dry himself out then go home.

Home is where the heart is. Don't they say that? Spencer was not where he was meant to be. Sam wasn't anywhere as far as Floyd could tell. He needed to contact someone else on the team. The so called team. Those shits who tried to take Spencer from him.

Floyd knew that Spencer wouldn't have gone to JJ. He knew he'd not fucking DARE go to Morgan. There was only one other, apart from Garcia who he didn't think was on the list, Emily. Though it was doubtful that Spencer would have gone there. No love lost between those two, she might know where the living fuck Dave was. It was a start. He knew where Emily lived and so it was a jog he took to her place. No cabs needed this time. He wanted to run off the alcohol and the remaining drugs whooshing through his system before he talked to Prentiss. His mind tended to go to places it shouldn't and wouldn't normally, when he was around that woman.

o-o-o

'Do I know you?' Spencer asked the strange girl hunkered down next to him. The light was behind her, the face in shadow. He reached out to touch, but the girl moved back out of reach, almost as though she was afraid. 'I know I've seen you before.' And he was certain of that. It was the girl in the shirt and tight jeans.

She whispered a reply, hardly moving her lips, constantly turning her head to the side to look at the door. Was she waiting for someone? 'They're drugging you, Spencer. Don't eat the food they bring. Chuck it down the toilet and flush. I'll bring you other stuff to eat. I don't know if they're doing anything to the water. Just avoid the food for now. I've also got this.' She flashed a tube in Spencer's face. 'I'll tuck it under the mattress, don't let anyone see it. Don't use it unless you are certain no one will walk in on you. Only flush the food away when this big light goes out and, never, not ever, stand up or appear even slightly with it when someone else comes in. Trust only me. Understand. Just let me know you understand.'

Spencer gave a small nod and watched as though from the end of a long fuzzy tunnel as a small pale hand slipped something under his mattress.

'I have to go now. Don't tell anyone I've been here or I'll be strung up and possibly eaten for dinner.' She stood and looked down at Spencer. 'I'm doing my best here Okay?'

'Fine… yes. Do I know you? Are you real?'

The girl shook her head and walked quickly away, putting an ear to the door before opening it and leaving.

For now Spencer stayed where he was. There really was no or very little reason to swim over to the door. The beauty of the waterfall was taking up most of his attention. The thing which had been slipped into hiding for him, was for now forgotten. He sipped on some water and nibbled on some dry crackers and wondered if that girl had really been here.#

'Where have I seen her before?' He asked himself before the memory of her drifted to walking in the woods with the smell of the forest and the sounds of water filled his mind.

o-o-o

As Sam had done, not all that long ago if you consider the life expectancy of a demon, Floyd pushed his way into Emily's apartment. Actually placing a hand just below her breasts and shoving hard.

'I need to talk to you, sweetheart.' Floyd told her. No questions yet. He needed a top up of coffee and knew where her kitchen was and knew where to get the things to make a good coffee in her apartment. Not like he'd not been there before. Sneaking around in the dark, sniffing her sheets and licking her pillow.

Emily closed the door and locked it. There was no point in telling him to leave. She had plenty of experience with Floyd and knew if he wanted to make coffee, that he intended on staying a while. For now she just returned to the lounge and sat, waiting.

Coasters were placed, not by Prentiss, but by her guest. She just sat staring at her coffee table wondering where the hell Floyd had found those! She didn't even know she owned coasters! Now coffee was carefully put on them. White mugs. Black coffee.

'Is there any point in asking you to leave?' There was always a chance, slim, but it was there.

Floyd pulled a frown at her and shook his head. 'I need to talk to you about things. Ask you questions, I can do that through the mail slot if you'd rather, but the whole of the neighbourhood will hear what I have to say, and you might not want that. Just a thought. Do you know where Dave is?'

Now Emily was confused. Floyd was here to ask about Dave? 'Well, yes. Sort of. The team has been given leave. A while – longer than usual. It was thought that we all needed a break. He's gone away. A vacation. I don't know where.'

'So – he's not at home? When did he leave?'

'A few weeks ago. Why is where Rossi is important to you?'

'Spencer.' Was the reply. 'I sent Spencer there for the holidays. Thought he could walk the dogs with him and stuff – he's not there. I don't know where Spencer is. I've mislaid him. It's not a good feeling. Then, then there is the matter that I still have horsehair and some sort of goo imbedded in my brain and my fucking skills are much lacking and I can't contact him. You see that might be a problem. Then there is the business with Hotch.'

Emily was sipping her coffee, legs crossed and Floyd thought she looked wonderfully sweaty in the combat pants and vest top she had on. 'Hotch?' A worried expression. She put the mug down and uncrossed those long sweaty legs.

Floyd took in a deep breath. Taking in all the sweet smells he could. 'Sam went there. He's not there now. Hasn't been for a while. The local cops, though sort of helpful, not totally. I need you to contact that fat blonde chic and get her to check up to see if he's being held anywhere. Can you do that for me? Not that I'm threatening you or anything, but you really don't want me to start doing things to this lovely home that you can't repair. Or will cost money, or just make you puke. I can be revolting when needs be. So that can be done? Now? Or finish your coffee.' Floyd smirked and drank back his scolding hot coffee without even blinking.

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, keeping her eyes on her visitor. 'I have no idea where Spencer is. I can't help you there, but Sam came to me.' She pointed to the remains of her Christmas tree. 'As you can see, he acted strangely. He didn't stay here long, but long enough for me to be very sure that he'd not be staying long and to know why Hotch told him to leave his place. I know where Sam went. I know where he was going to go. Whether he actually did go there, I don't know. I gave the cab driver an address and so I assume that is where he went, but I cannot promise you anything. I don't want you coming back here and spitting your insults in my face because he didn't do what he said he was going to.'

'Princess, do I look like the sort of man who would rip your face off for no good reason? Where the living fuck did you send my boy?' Attempting here to look calm. Not to look like the murdering bastard that he was. Not easy. He was putting a lot of effort into this and only because it was Emily. Anyone else would have been pinned to the wall by now.

'He had nowhere to go. There was little choice, but he didn't have to go there. You do understand that? It wasn't like…'

Floyd cut her off. His irritability quickly building to a point he was unsure he could hold back, Prentiss or not. 'Where the fuck did you send him that you have to be so defensive?'

Emily waved her hand towards the window. 'There are people out there that we do keep track of. People who we think maybe need to be monitored. You are one of them. We keep an eye on you. Watch what you do… you are aware of that.'

'Keep going.'

She nodded. 'Ambrus Lecso Lazar.'

Floyd shook his head. 'No.'

'He took up control of the clan after Iolanda left.' She informed him. Quietly. Ready to jump up and defend herself.

'I know who the fuck he is! I'm telling you, firmly, that you didn't send Sammy to Lazar. You wouldn't have done that. Did he know that was where he was going? You know where the clan are? He wouldn't have gone to him. He's not that stupid. You're not that stupid to think that was a safe place for him. Fuck's sake Emily!'

She stood. Paced. Looked out of the window, watching Floyd's reflection. He was still seated. An incredulous look on his face. 'It was Iolanda who the problem was with. The clan were being led by him and now he's gone… it's safe. They're causing no trouble. They are settled. Purchased a property and live there. They're not travelling. They're in a house. They have solar power, proper water supply and waste disposal. They farm. They don't cause any problems. This Lazar person seems to have the right idea.'

Now Floyd stood. He walked over to the window and placed his hands on the glass, looking over the city. 'Immortal Governor Helped by the Gods.'

'Pardon?'

'That's what his name means. It's a title. Not a name. It could be anyone and you sent my boy to some immortal boss of the dark? Fucking hell. Fucking fuck.' The window was slapped. He wanted dearly to slap Emily but needed more information first. 'Have you ever looked at Spencer, really carefully looked at him. Individual features. The shape of his jaw, his ears? The way his hair lays, that dark smudge so often under his eyes. That dimple of his… and the perfect shape of his eyebrows. Have you seen that? Because I don't think you've ever bothered to really look at my boy. I know you haven't. Likewise have you ever really looked at Sam? His eyes? The shape of his nose? Those divine lips of his and that perfect smile… not that he smiles often, but when he does, damn… I think if you really looked at them, looked at them the way you look at me, you would see something more than you do right now. You'll not see the filth, or hear the vile language. You'd certainly not send a child into the hands of some motherfucker sent here from the other side of the dark to fucking do whatever that bastard was sent here to do! I'm telling you, whatever that creature shows on the surface is not what is really going on there. Give me the damned address. I'm going to have to go and get my boy back and in the meantime I need you to find out where the hell Spencer is.'

Emily went back to grab her coffee, a pen and a bit of paper. She wrote the address she'd sent the cab with Sam to and handed it to Floyd.

'He bought this?' Floyd waved the bit of paper in her face. 'He bought this! He did? And you never fucking bothered to tell me that the biggest cunt ever created was living only an hour away from where we're standing? You stupid bitch! And he can't buy this. This property belongs to me and isn't for sale.'

Prentiss swallowed and raised her eyebrows at Floyd. 'As I said. He's causing no trouble and I was under the impression that you wanted nothing to do with the clan, so why would we have informed you. As for that being your property, you are mistaken. It belonged to the state. Abandoned decades ago…'

'It was mine.' Floyd didn't want to and didn't bother arguing with her. 'If I go missing, that is where you will find me. Probably doing things I'll be locked up for life for. Find Spencer. I need to go rescue Sam, I hope, really fucking hope that he's in more danger than my Spence is because little forgiveness will be given. Don't forget. Please don't make me repeat myself and know now that you're only standing there with your head still attached to your body because I need you to locate Spencer. And when you find him… look at him, properly. Really look. You'll see someone other than the person you think he is.'

There was nothing else to say. Floyd walked from the apartment and went to nick a car to drive up to where she had sent Sam.