AN: Thanks to you guys who are still reading! We're getting into the swing of the story now, I'm doing my best to keep the characters true to how they are in the shows but if you notice something that really bothers you, feel free to tell me! I know my past few updates have been kind of disappointing, but this has some Spencer/Spencer bro time and lots of action, and it's pretty long, so I hope it makes up for it! I'm going to try and update in two days like I have been, but I don't know if I'll get to it. I know what's going to happen immediately after this but still haven't decided in the long run - M or T? M or T? I just don't know...

Spencer Reid was sitting on Henry Spencer's couch, gazing around the house slowly. Someone could tell a lot about Henry from his house.

It was late now. Gus hadn't been allowed to leave the hospital. Shawn had been interrogated, intimidated, and interrogated again. He had been shocked when he was shown pictures of the employees in his building and the unsub wasn't one of them, and it had taken a moment for him to gather himself enough to work with a sketch artist.

Now, high as a kite on painkillers, he was sitting next to Spencer, humming off-tune and waiting for his father to finish dinner. Spencer was content with the silence - it gave him time to think about the case. But it seemed Shawn wasn't as comfortable.

"You know," he started, his words slurring tiredly, "I've figured you out." Spencer looked at him, his brow furrowed in confusion, as Shawn laughed. "I figured you out, man. You're me! I'm you!" His confusion grew.

"What do you mean?"

"We both have that thing. Itemetic - no - Isedemic-"

"Eidetic?"

"That!" Shawn laughed. "And we're both detectives. Maybe it's a predisposition." He tapped his head. "But I figured you out." Spencer tilted his head.

"You have eidetic memory?"

"Shh!" Shawn giggled. "Itsa secret." Spencer blinked, thinking.

"So you aren't really psychic? Shawn frowned.

"Yes I am! See, that's why itsa secret. That's why I act dumber than I am. But I could be you."

"You act dumb? Why?"

"Self preservation." Shawn laughed again. "We're opposite, but we're the same." He pointed at Spencer. "You: college, probably skipping grades, FBI agent, smarter-than-the-average-bear. Me: high school diploma, private detective... And you don't run. I run when things get hard, but I bet you try to face 'em." He sighed. "But here we are."

"That's true," Spencer mumbled, watching the doped up man curiously.

Unexpectedly, Shawn tensed, glancing around, and looked at Reid. "He's here," he mumbled, struggling to try and gain his feet. For a moment, Reid sat still.

"What do you mean?" he whispered back, looking around the house. He didn't notice anything out of place as he gained his own feet, limping on the heavy cast he wore.

"The stove's off. Been off for five minutes. But Dad hasn't called us to dinner yet? And Buzz has been pacing in front of the front door. His shadow crosses the window every thirty seconds. But it stopped - I thought he had just stopped pacing. But the back door is open: you can hear the birds chirping outside." Shawn met his eyes, and Reid was surprised at how calm he was. "He's here. Where's your gun?"

But Shawn didn't need to ask because it was already comfortably in Reid's hands as he looked around, waiting for movement. Shawn grabbed what looked to be a paperweight of some kind, unsteadily making his way toward the kitchen, peering around the doorway. He waved Spencer after him and pointed to where his father was unconscious on the floor, a needle sticking out of his neck. They both looked around anxiously, trying to pick up on movement or breathing, but saw nothing.

"Where is he?" Shawn breathed, his head finally seeming clear. "He's around here somewhere." He shook his head, glancing at Reid before creeping towards his father, silently pulling the gun Henry had been guarding off the counter and quietly clicking off the safety, checking his father's pulse with the other hand. Spencer could tell the position pained his ribs from the grimace on his face, but it seemed Henry was fine as he slowly moved back over to Spencer and stood, hefting the gun in one hand and the paperweight in the other. They looked around, trying to formulate a plan, glancing at each other. It seemed they didn't even need to speak to see what the other was thinking, but Shawn gestured to the open backdoor anyway, silently asking Reid to check if he was outside. He got a nod in response as Reid silently stepped over Henry, peering carefully into the backyard and catching Shawn's eye to gesture an all clear.

He got a nod in response as Shawn placed the paperweight on the table and pulled out his cell phone, whispering "Go outside and call help."

Reid shook his head, hissing back, "You're a civilian. Let's get out of here and call backup." He noticed Shawn's eyes widen imperceptibly and took two steps forward before the other even had time to shout.

"Reid! Look out!"

He felt the air move as something whipped past his head and he stumbled, watching Shawn raise his father's gun at whoever had attacked. He spun on his heel, pointing his own gun, and saw the nurse from the other night, his face contorted in anger. Where did he come from?! Reid had checked outside - had he been hiding? Where had he been hiding?

"Drop your weapon," Reid said calmly, noticing the bat in the man's hand. "Put your hands on your head. You're under arrest for the murders of-" Another swing of the bat cut him off and he had to take two more clumsy steps back, somehow keeping balance, the cast making his movements awkward.

When he glanced back he saw Shawn calmly pointing his borrowed gun in one hand, calling for help with the other. "You're outgunned, man," he called to the unsub, taking a deep breath. "Just give it up. The police will be here soon."

"You corrupted him!" the man screamed, taking a wild swing at Reid and forcing him to step back once more. "You thieves corrupted him!" Spencer didn't have time to find his footing before the unsub barreled into him, knocking him down with the force and sending his gun clattering across the floor as he threw out his hands to break his fall. He raised his arms, fully expecting to feel the sensation of wood smacking against flesh. When it didn't come he raised his head, watching as the unsub smashed Shawn's phone into smithereens. Shawn himself was slumped against the wall, moaning weakly and holding his ribs.

Reid scrambled for his gun before the attention was directed once more at him, but had to lunge back as the bat swung down mere millimeters from his face, smashing into the tile with a resounding crack. "Reid," he heard Shawn groan urgently, and turned just in time to catch the gun Shawn threw towards him, flicking the safety off quickly and going to point it at the unsub before he had to roll out of the way of another strike, running into Shawn's legs in the small kitchen.

In return he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dumping it in Shawn's lap as he struggled to his feet. "Speed dial one!" he said urgently, bringing the gun up once more. For now it seemed the unsub had contented himself with smashing whatever was on Henry's counters in the absence of smashing Reid's face in, and for that Reid was thankful. He felt relieved when he quickly heard Hotch's voice through the phone, but the relief was short lived as the unsub heard as well, rounding on the two again.

"Drop the phone," he growled, his voice seeming almost feral. "Drop it now, Shawn, and maybe I won't punish you for being a traitor." Reid could tell Shawn was scared, but he didn't show it.

"C'mon man, don't you know you aren't supposed to bring a baseball bat to a gun fight?" The man seemed unamused. "You know you aren't going to get out of here. The police are on their way, and if you don't drop the bat soon this guy will shoot you." Reid sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that. He could hear Hotch over the phone demanding answers, and Shawn muttered something too softly to be intelligible to the others in the room.

"I said drop the phone!" Shawn flinched a bit, then paled as the unsub rested the bat next to Henry's head, snarling "Drop it now." Shawn glanced at Spencer, seeing an almost imperceptible nod, and slowly placed the phone on the ground. He didn't hang it up.

For a moment this seemed to only make the unsub angrier before he broke into a grin. Spencer was seriously contemplating firing his weapon by now, but he didn't want to do it unless it was absolutely necessary. Even so, he couldn't come up with a single way to talk this guy down. The image of a boy lying in a bathroom with a shotgun blowing his head to pieces played in his mind and he had to blink and shake himself. His shoulders were starting to tense up as he wracked his brain for something to calm the unsub.

"Put it on speaker." Shawn looked at Spencer, seeing no reaction, before nervously following the order.

"Man, why don't you just put the bat down. If you want to talk, we'll talk. No need for violence." Reid desperately hoped Hotch had something better to say than the two of them, because it seemed the unsub wasn't listening to them anymore. He could hear a commotion over the phone and what sounded like Morgan yelling in the background, which didn't make sense to him for a second.

"Why don't you tell Shawn your name?" he suggested quietly, and managed to draw the attention of the unsub. "You know Shawn, but Shawn doesn't know you. He'd like to know your name, right Shawn?" The psychic nodded vigorously.

"I'd love to know the name of the guy who took down my dad! You know, not a lot of people can do that, it's some feat, and-"

"You know my name!" the man shouted furiously, staring at Shawn with something akin to intense hatred. "What do you mean, what's my name!? You know my name! You love me!"

"Oh right, of course I do," Shawn stammered. "What I mean is, do you have a nickname or something that you'd like me to call you, ya know, so we can be affectionate and all? My mom calls me Goose-"

"Shut up," the unsub snarled, and Reid resigned himself to the fact that if the man rushed them he would have to shoot. "You forgot about me. You fucking forgot."

"Of course I didn't, how could I forget-"

"Shut up!" he screamed, his face red in rage. "I don't want to talk to you right now Shawn! I don't want to talk to you! I want to talk to those bastards you called on the phone!" Shawn closed his eyes for a moment, realizing how vulnerable he was, slumped against the wall and unable to even draw a full breath for pain. He'd never admit it to anyone but Gus, and only then jokingly, but he was scared. Why hadn't Spencer taken the shot yet?

"Well, I don't know your name," Rossi's voice came through the phone, and with a sinking feeling Reid realized they were treating it as a hostage situation. For all the team knew, he had been disarmed and was tied up. "I'd like to know it, if we're going to hold a pleasant conversation. I'm Dave." The unsub snorted.

"I'm not that stupid. But for the sake of a conversation, you can call me John."

"Alright, John." Reid could hear the frustration on the edge of his voice, but only someone who knew Rossi would've noticed it. "What do you want to talk about?" Shawn realized they had no idea why John had demanded the phone be put on speaker, and then he realized he had no idea why John wanted the phone on speaker. It was silent for a few moments.

"I didn't want to talk about anything." Shawn looked over at Reid and paled, barely able to open his mouth and shout "Spencer- Behind you!" before the good doctor was slammed into from behind, toppling over and sending his gun skittering across the floor. "I just wanted a distraction. I guess it worked."

Reid was fighting with the large man on top of him, but he was pinned on his front, one of his legs immobile from the cast, and he could feel a large bruise forming in his hairline from where he had smacked into the floor. Shawn could hear Juliet asking him what had happened - she must've wrenched the phone from Agent Hotchner, or, more likely, it was on speaker - and realized his mouth was open in shock.

"It's a pair!" he managed to shout. "Two guys, it's a pair!" He realized that was crucial to the BAU's profile and was glad he managed to convey it before the bat came smashing down on the phone, but instantly regretted it when John turned to him with unadulterated rage on his face.

The last thing he knew was blinding pain and stars dancing through his dad's kitchen, making a mess of the place that could've rivaled him and Gus at their worst.