Chapter 9

Being Moved

A/N: Same as before: NonCon/slashy undertones.

Suffering is nothing. It's all a matter of preventing those you love from suffering: -Alphonse Daudet

Disclaimer Criminal Minds is not mine.

He lay in the leaves.

There was nothing he could do. He tried to move and did in fact manage to crawl a few feet, but there really was no where to go. The next best thing was to try to curl up in as small a size ball as he could, but that wasn't going to happen either. He was laying on his front with his one arm above his shattered head and the other at his side. His legs were slightly spread and his left leg bent at the knee. He looked like he was sleeping if you ignored the fact that half of his head was missing.

Floyd had reached the stage now where he just wanted to sleep and sleep wasn't something that Floyd did. A very disconcerting feeling it was for him and one which made him very suddenly fearful for Reid. Was Taki around? Something was wrong – something was very wrong and his brains were up the old Elm and he had now way of getting a good re-growth out here. No drugs no nothing. He thought that if he could cover leaves over himself he could somehow recreate some sort of dark comfort. Why had they let this happen to him?…..He had behaved. He had done everything asked of him and now this shit! This was why he got so pissed off with them sometimes….it was this sort of thing which got him into trouble in the first place.

He wanted to shout at them at the unfairness of the game. He had abandoned what he was doing – he was trying to be the new him – what was it they wanted? For now all he could do was lay there. This was damned humiliating. Bodily fluids seeped away and down into the forest floor but he could still feel the wetness – that vile dampness brought on by death.

-o-o-o-

She sat in the waiting room with a wad of paper over the side of her head. It had stopped bleeding but they still insisted that she sat there like this. She had wanted to flash her badge, but she didn't have it. She needed to get this sorted and back and get organised and see if her hair was going to look strange, because Emily had a horrible feeling that they were going to want to cut some of her hair away so that they could put in some stitches. It struck her that since being with Reid she had become more and more unattractive and less like herself than she had done in years. She wasn't sure what it was about Reid, maybe it was because she didn't feel she had to keep up appearances in front of him. It was doubtful he would notice anyway.

Eventually after what felt like half of her life had past and she probably had grey hairs they asked if she wanted to come through. She sat on a big orange chair and they took the wadding out of her hand and put it in a bin.

"So what happened?" Someone was pulling through her hair having a look at the damage.

"I slipped on a wet bathroom floor." A big sigh.

"This happened a few hours ago….you should have come straight in." He tutted.

"I was unconscious laying on the bathroom floor. It was kind of hard for me to reach the phone." Getting snappy.

"I'm going to have to shave part of your hair." Smug.

"I expected you to." Pissed off.

"It's a nasty wound Miss."

"Agent." Getting very cross with that smug face now. "Special Agent Prentiss. Will you just hurry up and get it stitched so I can get a cab back to the motel?"

She was a long way impressed with the finished result. It would mean having to wear a hat of some kind until it grew slightly…or maybe get the rest of it cut so it didn't show so much. She was given painkillers for the thumper of a headache she had and now she sat on the wall outside the small emergency room in the evening air wondering if now was the right time to contact Hotch. She finally decided that once Reid turned up she was talk to him about it….either way tomorrow she would call in – Spencer didn't have to like it, but her job was a risk here, and there was a good chance that she had already lost it. Though – she was off sick – so she shouldn't be here – but she wasn't actually hiding…And then she thought of the bike and part of the motivation behind getting it was so they would be harder to track. She bit on her bottom lip and placed her hand over the enormous dressing on the side of her head and waited for the cab to come and take her back to the motel. She wondered if Reid had eaten. She was hungry and she was sure she had eaten since he last had. Another thing she was going to have to come down hard on him about. The lack of eating and this smoking he had suddenly started.

-o-o-o-

They let him sleep – but sleep was furthest from his mind. He lay back and smoked another of whatever it was they had been giving him. They had stripped him and sort of reclothed him, though not in a real sense – just a very short robe that he could tie up tightly around his waist. This – this stuff he was smoking numbed. It not only numbed the intense pain he was in, but it numbed his mind. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this predicament. And all calls of aid or advise to Floyd came back unanswered. He was on his own on this one, and with the ether still running in his system, though admittedly not enough to get him high, but enough to keep his mind racing, with that and with whatever this was –

He looked at it and waved it around a bit and talked kind words to it –

Whatever this was it took away all that pain and hurt he had been feeling.

Hey! These people seemed to actually like him. Gert seemed to have respect for him. Probably – he thought, maybe this was respect. He looked at the cuff holding him to the ring on the wall and then down to the one around his ankle.

That could be alright he supposed really, it was for his own safety. He watched with bleary eyes as the door was opened and closed again. Gert was with a small huddle of people who came over and looked at Spencer. They snatched his smoke from him.

"Hey!"

They pulled his gown off him.

"Stop!"

They took more photos of him and then rolled him onto his front. Spencer fell asleep.

He didn't see them bring in the set up for the camera. He was too stoned and asleep for him to see them set up the lap top in the corner of the room. He couldn't hear the conversation they had about web sites and hits and money.

When they undid the cuffs and pulled him from the bed he didn't protest. He was handed a bottle of water which he drank happily even though they were having to support him so he didn't fall over.

As he drank the lovely clear liquid he became only slightly aware of being disrobed yet again. The hands still holding him up and still and now they seemed to be inspecting him and pulling at him and rubbing something cold over his skin.

Somewhere he could hear the clanking of chains again and a strange squeaking noise which right this moment his brain couldn't place.

-o-o-o-

They stood and watched and calculated.

"Screen test first. I want to see how he performs."

They oiled their subject. It picked up muscle – or in this case bone – better on camera – The hair they left as it was for now. No point in wasting soap on something they might be disposing of soon. They inspected his face closely. A nice face they all agreed but he looked like a junky. Keep his face off screen…the punters liked that – they could put the face they wanted there then. They considered some sort of mask and then changed their minds. It would be fine. He seemed compliant. Could they have him against the wall please? They wanted to see how well the cat worked against his skin. He was pale – the welts would probably look particularly good on this one. They could keep him back just for flogging. They liked that – they usually got extra money in for the floggings and beatings and he looked like he was going to mark nicely.

"Good choice Gert." One of them said – and gave a big gold toothed smile at the tall blonde guy who was standing back happily watching. This was going to earn him a damned fortune. Enough to get the butt implants he was after.

They stood the subject against the wall and again chained his hands so that they were at full stretch above his head. They talked about muscle tone and the way it accentuated his bone structure and what looked to be a frailty about this one. He looked like they would need to be careful with him. He would need a lot of rest between sessions to let the swellings go down again…They would need to be careful about breakages and too much damage if they were going to keep this for any length of time.

Could they start then please?

They watched via the lap top they had set up. Occasionally one of them would get up and adjust the camera angle. They applied more oil to his back and asked if he always swayed like that or was that the drugs? They were assured by Gert that this was a mild side effect and wouldn't even be noticed once they started.

The first thing they wanted to see was how he reacted to just touching. They wanted him to keep his back to the camera for now. They didn't want head shots of any description at this stage. It can be distracting. It can cause someone to make a decision based on the wrong factors.

The touching consisted of one person on his knees behind Reid running his hands over the backs of his legs and his buttocks and the small of his back. It also involved the mouth doing much the same thing. They liked the way he moved slowly back and forth in time to the 'touching'. He was a gentle one. This one was going to be a novelty.

Now onto the next thing.

Gert called one of his men forward and asked him to start.

It was a single plaited whip. Long but without barbs. Just to see how it looked on his back. As it cracked and flicked over Spencer's skin Reid let out a small cry of surprise – not actual pain – he was still feeling numb, but he hadn't been expecting that.

They peered at the monitor and looked up and nodded. The guy with the whip went again. This time it wasn't such a shock, but it was beginning to sting slightly. Spencer wriggled a bit and the men behind the monitor smiled.

They watched until the welts on his skin looked as though they might start to bleed and then asked if he was amenable to anything else.

By this point Spencer could definitely feel the pain. Any drugs he had been given were wearing – but not totally gone from his system. He hung by his arms with his knees slightly bend wondering if his shoulders were going to come out of their sockets. When Gert grabbed him around the waist and undid the chains on his wrists he let out a sigh of relief.

"You're not done yet." Gert hissed into his ear.

Silly Spencer….fancy thinking they had finished with you. 'Floyd please help me'

Gert dragged Spencer to a more central point. "On your knees."

A command Spencer was not likely to ignore. He went down and placed his shaking hands on the floor in front of him and bowed his head.

Gert shrugged. "He does that a lot. Dead weird." He moved Reid around so that his back was to the camera. "Get up on your knees."

Nothing.

"Get up – they want to see what you look like in different positions."

The word was so soft it was not much more than an exhale of breath but it was Spencer's last protest for tonight. "No."

The buyers didn't mind that he needed to be shown some respect. They watched again on the monitor how his hair looked as Reid's head snapped to the side by the force of the punch. They nodded in agreement. It seemed like they might be interested. They would obviously have to show this to their boss and will be back tomorrow one way or the other. If he was no good for continual usage he would definitely have a good part to play in a 'one off' video they were interested in making.

Gert was happy with this and kicking Reid onto the floor out of the way he helped them collected up their things and go. Either way Spencer was going to make him a packet of money. Now looking down at the shaking naked oiled form on the floor he pulled him over onto his front and holding tightly to his hips had the nice oiled subject for himself one last time.

-o-o-o-

She sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed at her eyes. She didn't want to sleep. Her head was pounding too much and she was afraid if she slept now she would sleep through the small travel alarm clock and miss her rendezvous with Spencer. She couldn't predict the mood he would be in. She had no idea where he was and the images in her mind were not making her feel very at ease. What the hell had she been thinking letting him go off like that? But then again he was a full grown adult and it was not up to her to give him orders. They were not working. She wasn't sure what they were doing but this was more like some kind of hell than work.

Again her hand went to the dressing on the side of her head. She got up and walked over to the bathroom where she had slipped – no where she had been pushed. She looked down at the floor and could see where her footprints had dried and left marks on the white tiles. She could see a small puddle of blood, which she would have to report in the morning and there very clear for her to see was a smear of dirt like from the bottom of a dirty boot. She stood and stared at it.

"I was right." She muttered to herself, though she also knew it wasn't possible and there must be another explanation. Emily walked back to the bed and sat down with her back against the wall and her knees up tight. She rested her chin on her knees and looked down at her feet. "I'll be damned if I will sleep in this place." And there she sat listening to the birds singing as the light began to creep in through the not very high quality drapes at the window.

-o-o-o-

They had a case.

They sat around looking despairingly at each other. They had had this sort of thing before. There was no Reid in today and Emily was off too, but the bulk of this was going via Garcia.

"There are a lot of these sort of sites." Hotch was saying. "What makes this different is the violence involved. They claim – they have a disclaimer which they show every half hour – that all subjects are there voluntarily – that no one is actually harmed and it is just make up and acting. There are a few places like this. One step beyond the normal pornography. Some site are even said to simulate snuff, but we have no proof of that. This one though." Hotch indicated the frozen image of a man chained to a wall. "….we have received complaints about. Some people are saying it's not simulated. And someone has even recognised one of the 'subjects' as a rent boy who went missing some months back. I need these people found and I want the site closed." He sat down and looked at his fingernails. "Garcia is already looking through footage. Morgan – she might need some support there. It gets a bit – rough."

-o-o-o-

Someone had hold of his arm and was dragging him. He tried to listen but he couldn't do that anymore. He tried again to open his eyes, but that was not happening either. There wasn't much he could do. The healing was painfully slow. It hadn't even started yet and he could feel things feeding off him and he could feel he was being dragged.

It was hard to tell how far he had been moved but still there was only one pair of hands on him. The hands pushed Floyd onto his back and started to scrabble around with his jeans waistband.

Oh fabulous….killed by a bloody necrophiliac – and to think they could have been friends – and still can be….once the brain has grown back. And now he was being touched and manhandled by some woodsman with a camera. Not impressed. Not impressed in the slightest.

And now he was concerned that the gift he had given Spencer had been taken back again. He knew he needed it for a little while….but he also had a horrible feeling that Spencer needed it too – so as much as Floyd wanted – no – needed to kill this bastard who was abusing his 'dead' body – he knew Reid needed to keep that gift for a while longer yet. Not begrudgingly, but rather more sadly – he passed it back again.

-o-o-o-

He woke up sitting on the back seat in a car. He was dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie which was up and pulled down to keep his face in shadow.

Spencer moved a hand to his head. He had the headache from hell today. What had happened? He blinked and looked around expecting to see Emily and seeing instead some rather seedy looking blokes in cheap suits.

He looked down at his hands and saw that his they were shaking slightly and he felt sore. His back and the backs of his legs and where he was sitting in the car hurt like he had been sliced with something.

"Excuse me? Where am I?" He glanced at the men and then out at the unfamiliar roads dashing past.

"Keep your mouth shut dog. No one told you to talk."

And so he looked out of the window again. The door lock button was up and the handle was there – next to him. Again he kept his head down and as the car slowed at some lights Reid grabbed the handle and tried to push the door open.

Nothing happened.

"Stop that. Just sit still and be quiet."

He pushed at the door again as hands reached over and tried to restrain him. He started to shout and punch at the glass and as they pulled him away it was his bare feet that he smacked against the window as he called out for help.

And as he shouted and kicked and flailed and screamed someone deftly squirted a liquid into his mouth.

Spencer stopped the shouting and started to cough and gag and his kicks and flailings became less and less violent until he was laying still across the laps of the man in the back of the big dark SUV.