2

Give me a reason to make a chili ~ FFF

They sat on the chairs outside, on the porch. Floyd drank from a bottle of fine red wine and Spencer had his thermal sippy cup which had prevented many spillages in the past and now was the only vessel Floyd allowed him to drink from. Spencer had coffee. Spiked. He was sure there was something added to it. There was an odd aftertaste which made his gums tingle. There was no point in saying anything about it. Perhaps he was wrong. It might just have been the aftereffects of the rather spicy chili he had eaten earlier. Maybe it was slowly eating away at his insides. It wouldn't have shocked him if Floyd told him it would.

'Smoke.' Floyd passed over one of his hand-rolled cheroots.

Spencer took it from him but for now just held it carefully between his fingers. 'I don't really… you know? They're a bit strong.'

'You mean that you think I've put something in there? Really Spence. If I was going to drug you, it would be in the food, or the coffee.' Floyd smirked at his best friend, his lover, his fuck-buddy… his number one… his sidekick… his dog. 'Smoke it. Enjoy. It's full of the good stuff.'

'I've some…' He was stopped from saying more by a look which drifted over Floyd's face. There was no emotion on that face earlier. Now, certainly… that was emotion and not one which Spencer much liked the look of. 'Thank you, Floyd.' He put it between his lips and puffed gently, blowing smoke out of his nose, inhaling as little as he could, but it still made his head swim and his hands shake. The mug of coffee wobbled in his hands, but no spillage! Nothing for Floyd to bitch at him about. 'I'm tired.' He muttered.

'Well, it's been a long day. Go sleep if you need to. The coffee should have given you some energy. Woken that slug of a brain up a bit. Given you maybe the ability to see why we have to do this job.'

Another puff of the cheroot. Spencer nodded. 'There must be another way. Another way to get Sam back. Do you even know where he is?'

'Not a fucking clue.' Floyd tapped his forehead with a cheroot stained finger. 'I've probed gently. You know… risky business when I don't know if he's here or there. And there's the small matter that they said, quite clearly, with a talon up my arse, that if I tried to contact Sammy-boy that they would slip that thing a bit further up next time… and treat you to a nice surprise too. But I guess you don't care if I'm abused by some demonic cunt. You don't care if you give over yourself for Sam.' Floyd stood up, throwing his cheroot over the porch railing and dropping the empty wine bottle onto the boards. 'Well. Let's get to it then. Maybe they'll let me watch you being torn apart from your balls upwards. Or perhaps you'll get to see me being torn in two… lengthways. No coming back from that sort of shit, Spencer, but if that's what you want, I'll tell them.'

Spencer stayed sitting, taking another drag on the cheroot. It was actually a good mix, now that his brain had realised what it was, the world had stopped spinning. It also seemed to have alleviated the pounding headache which had been creeping in again. 'I don't want that. You know I don't want that. Stop being dramatic.'

'So I'm a drama queen now? I thought that was Sam's thing.'

'I'm just trying to make suggestions, Floyd. I don't want that to happen. I also don't want you to carry out this plan you have brewing. You've not told me what you're going to do with Henry once you have him. And didn't you once say that he had a square head? I thought you didn't like him… too young?'

'Back to that shit.' Floyd sat again. 'He's grown into his head. Not the prize I would have picked, but it's not as deformed as it was. As for where I'm going to take him, well I'm not going to tell you. Not all the while there is that small problem with trust. You can understand that can't you? You can see why I'd not want to give away my whole plan?'

'You have a whole plan?' Spencer asked.

'No.' Floyd smirked again. 'It's in the early stages. You know how I am with my plans. The lighter they are the easier they are to keep to. And I don't appreciate your questions. Your doubt. You think it can't be done?'

'I think you plan on killing a small child.' Spencer snapped at Floyd.

'No. I can promise you that. Really… my promises hold true. You know. I promise I have no plans to kill that boy. I've no plans to do anything but do the swap. He's no good to either of us dead. Okay? Does that ease the problem at all?' There was a long sigh from Spencer and a nod. 'Good! See… baby steps. We're getting somewhere. I don't want the kid for myself. That's not the plan either. I don't like kids. Snotty, shitting things. Sam's snot is enough to deal with, don't want a kid crying and pissing in my life. Why do you think I sent Sam to Iolanda? Let him deal with those things. Not my bag at all. So… we're on again? You in? Not that you have an option of being out, but I'd sooner not have to nail you to the fucking floor or table again just to ensure you don't run off on me.'

Things change. They change either with a heart-breaking smash or with something more gradual. Both can be deadly or maybe both can be sweet. It really depends on how you look at things. For Spencer it had been both. A series of events which tore at his soul and ripped his spirit from him. For Floyd it was a slow burn of deadly dealings. Time after damned time he had tried to scrape his way back to what he had once been. Now he sat and spoke to Spencer in a slow mumble of maybe confessions. Not that Spencer really believed anything Floyd told him. Unless a promise was inserted somewhere, that word… promise… it was the only way he knew that Floyd was telling him total truth. Like a safe word… something they'd never actually used in the bedroom, or kitchen – or any other place, but it was a safe word of a different sort. If Floyd said that he promised he'd not kill Henry, then Spencer believed him. It was all in the subtle wording which dripped from Floyd's mouth. Now had he said that he promised not to hurt Henry, then that would be different. Floyd could kill easily and not cause pain to his victim. The fact that Floyd had said he wouldn't kill Henry was almost good news.

There was that other bit of the wording though. You can hurt someone almost to the point of death and not kill them. Spencer was a prime example of Floyd's ability to hand out pain but not death. He looked down at the pale marks on his hands where Floyd had nailed him to the table all that long, very long time ago and sighed.

Floyd had been thumbing through a pile of leaflets which he had been picking up at various places, libraries mainly. He put them to the side and frowned at his Babe. 'What? What's the sigh for? Going to accuse me of something again? Fuck you.' He was about to stand up from the couch when Spencer spoke.

'I need you to promise me something else. I really need you to do this. Promise me that you won't hurt Henry.'

Floyd's face twitched. The corner of his eye went into a small spasm and he clenched his fists on his lap. 'You ask a lot of me Spence. Too much. Have I not given you everything anyone could wish for?'

'Uh.' Spencer replied. 'It's just… it's… it's just that… I know you.'

'Well I would hope you did. But that's not answered my question. Have I not given you everything?'

'Uh… yes. That is not what I asked you.' Spencer's voice wobbled slightly. Dangerous ground he was treading now. Very dangerous. 'I need you to promise not to hurt Henry.'

'Fine. I'll not hurt him. Not on purpose. Oh, you think I want to… you're accusing me again! You think I want him to replace Sammy? What the fuck, Spencer. What the holy fuck do you think I am? How well do you know me and how many kids have I…'

'No.' Spencer cut in. 'That's not what I meant. I know… I know you'd not do something like that. I know. I don't want you beating him, nailing his feet to the floor or whatever.'

'Right. Fine. If I promise that what do I get in return? What can you offer me?'

Spencer scratched at his neck and shook his head. 'I'll help.'

'No more questions asked?'

'Maybe a few?' Spencer replied.

'Great. That's a deal then.' Floyd now got up, picking up the leaflets with him and walked to the bedroom. 'You need to sleep. I'll keep you company.' That wasn't something to be debated. Spencer followed Floyd without question. He didn't see the smug smirk Floyd had on his face. Twist the words enough… confuse Spencer with accusations and the promise was never actually made.

o-o-o

Sam had been dressed in the height of fashion, as he saw it. He looked amazing. His hair was glowing, his fingernails were painted. He had a smudge of glitter on his eyelids and a neat line of eyeliner. He thought he looked fucking amazing and told everyone he saw. Not that the monsters staring at him knew. What would they know? They're just hell creatures with no damned sense of what looks good… and Sam looked mighty fine! He stood looking at himself in the mirror, ran his fingers over his reflection. Oh such a curse to be so beautiful! He could never and would never meet a person who looked this good. He out-shone everything and every-one! He was top of the list! He had made it… apart from his stupid wandering eye which kept looking at his nose and apart from the fact that he could see sod all out of it, but that was minor and no one ever commented on it. Not any longer. Not now Floyd was gone for good! No more insults to be thrown at him. No jealous faces to be aimed at Spencer. Nothing but love and glory and…

'Get in.' Something snapped at Sam. He felt the hot air blowing on the back of his thin and pale neck. A delicate neck. A neck which needed kisses placed on it. Not demands.

'In a sec or two.' He watched the way his mouth moved as he spoke and gave a small smile to see that dimple at the corner of his mouth. The dimple so many had placed sweet kisses against.

'Now.' The air felt sort of fetid now. Not sweet. No sweet kisses. 'Get in the fucking box.'

Sam could protest. He could state, again, his demands, and he knew that he would be ignored. He sniffed and rubbed his hand under his nose and slowly turned to look at the wooden crate sitting there waiting for him. 'It'll mess up my hair,' he explained.

'No one is going to see your sodding hair. Get in.'

That was the reason Sam was locked in a box and buried somewhere… doesn't really matter where. The results were the same. Tears, snot… broken fingernails and smudged makeup. Not that Sam had a mirror or even any light to see by. His screams unheard. No one to hug or admire him. A very special sort of hell for Sam. Unfortunately for him, he didn't need air to breathe or water to drink or food to eat. Demonic little shits like Sammy-boy can live out an eternity with nothing but their own shitty attitude.

Sam was in storage.

o-o-o

Spencer and Floyd went back to the house they'd been to a few days before. This time in a van with dark windows. It wasn't going to be today that they snatched Henry. They were just looking, making notes, watching. The sick feeling Spencer had in his stomach was joined by another thumping headache, a black eye, a split lip and some fingers which had been bent back too far. Floyd was sitting shotgun watching the reflection in the wing-mirror. They wouldn't be staying long. Things like vans with darkened windows would be noticed if they stayed in the same place for too long. Especially stolen vans with false plates.

'We should go.' Spencer fingered the keys in the ignition as Floyd turned slowly to look at that pretty profile of his battered companion. 'Really, we should go.' Spencer said again.

Floyd nodded. A small temptation was there in his aching knuckles to smack Spencer in the ear. He wanted to watch the way Spencer's head would bounce off the side window. Maybe that was something for later. 'Go then.' He snapped. 'We'll do a ride past on the bike tomorrow. We have to wait for the brat's parents to be out of the house. Get him when he's with a sitter.'

A bit of fingernail chewing went on with Spencer for a minute or so. There was so much he wanted to say but dared not. He turned over the engine and slowly they drove away in the same direction the bike had gone a few days before. 'We need to get a legal vehicle. What if we're stopped?'

'Right. I agree. Which dead person is going to raise his ugly head to do that then? The dead Flanders or the dead Reid? Now keep your mouth shut unless you have something of sense to say. You talk crap.'

'If we're stopped they will know anyway.'

'Then don't get stopped. That's why you're driving and not me. It just feels that over and again you are trying to delay getting Sam back. I know there's no love lost between the pair of you, but I would do all and everything to get you back from hell. I can't leave him. Pull over. Here… pull over.'

Spencer stopped the van at the edge of a parking lot belonging to a diner. They had stopped here before and had a snack or bought coffee, so it was no real surprise to Spencer that Floyd was asking again. It was when Spencer was about to remove his seatbelt that he realised that this wasn't going to a coffee stop.

'Leave it on. For now. I just need to talk to you. I need to understand why you are trying to delay things. You've seen what could be happening to Sammy. I know that he… I know you… Look, Spence, if you want out…'

'Even if I wanted out, you've made it clear what would happen. This is against all I believe in. Everything. He's my godson! I should protect him from people like you, not plan his abduction.'

Floyd really couldn't disagree more with that statement. 'Bullshit. Utter crap.' He passed Spencer something to smoke and then pulled out his hipflask. 'You and I, Spencer, we are working together because that way we can be delivered from the hell we have been placed in. This might not even be real. You understand that? I hope you do. I'm stuck here not knowing what is happening with Sam, and that might not mean much to you, but as he's my standby, my other me, then that's sort of important that I get him back. He is my immortality. I am yours. Making any sense yet? I'm having to do something I don't really want to do and you certainly are being tested. If you don't want that test, if you want to break from this… then you will fall into a hell much dirtier than the one you are in now. Think on that will you, Babes?' Floyd then moved across and unclipped Spencer's seatbelt. 'Now go get me coffee. No twitching and stuttering. We're fairly local. No need for anyone to think it strange. This is all part of the cover… yes officer I've seen that pair around, buddies… they drink coffee… never a twitch out of either of them, local boys blah blah blah… Get it?'

The coffee purchasing went without a hitch. The girl serving recognised Spencer and served him the usual black sweet coffee for two. He thought for a moment that she was going to ask something, she looked confused or puzzled over something. Probably the black-eye and split lip, but the words went unsaid and so Spencer didn't have to think up of a way of falling downstairs when they didn't have any stairs to fall down. He just gave her the money, exact change was handed over, and he left with a smile and no eye contact. It had gone well. As he walked quickly back to the van he wondered how the hell he was going to manage actually doing something Floyd needed him to do if he was thinking that buying coffee was a risk. It was with great relief when he seated himself back behind the wheel and was able to hand Floyd his coffee with no mistakes made.

'She recognised me.' He told Floyd.

'Good. Regulars. Nothing strange then. This is all good Spencer. Don't look so fucking worried. You're going to stress yourself out of your skin.'

'I just don't know how you manage to stay so calm about this. How you ever managed to. All you have done…'

'You think I managed? Okay. If that's what you want to think. You're telling me that I have to go get coffee in future? Too scared of some whore with a sweaty cleavage to buy a fucking coffee? Now you understand, maybe, why I didn't take you out collecting with me previously. I would call you a coward, except I know you're not. More backbone that people would give you credit for. I trained you well, don't you think? I've not had the time to train you as I did Sam, but you're not bad for a beginner. All your time in the BAU helped. Good training ground. There was a reason I sent you there.'

'That was Gideon.'

'That was me. Fucktard. How many times do I have to correct you on that? Once more? With a fist?'

They sat for the remainder of the time drinking coffee in silence. They smoked, flicked ash out of the window and then watched the sky darken and storm clouds gathering overhead. It was going to rain. Rain a lot. And that put Floyd in a strange mood. He needed to get home quickly. Work to do. He had a project underway and…

'…and I need you secured to the bed before I can do that.'

'Great.'

Spencer drove back towards their small home in the back of nowhere, down the rutted track which was gathering mud, and to their home with the woodshed and axe. To their home where Floyd escorted Spencer to the bedroom and ordered him to lay on his front so he could tie him down properly.

'There is no need.' Spencer said as he sat on the edge of the bed. 'Please, Floyd, just trust that I'll stay here. If you don't want me to leave the bedroom, just say. There's no need for this.'

But there was great need for it. This Spencer found out as he lay there, wrists tied with cord and feet in cuffs and secured to the end of the bed. He sighed as he lay there watching Floyd pull on an old overcoat and his lace up boots. His working clothes.

'I'll be in the woodshed. A few hours. Maybe longer. Have to get this right. It's a secret though.' Floyd grinned a horrible smile and Spencer twitched a smile in return. 'Piss in that bed and I'll break your… your… oh something… I'll leave it to your imagination. Maybe shouldn't have had that coffee, huh?'

And Floyd left, closing the door behind him.

o-o-o

STEP RIGHT UP TO SEE THE GREATEST SHOW OF EARTH.

It was printed in red, bold, fancy writing. They advertised a local show, a circus. A big top tent with high flyers and performing ponies with acrobatic riders. All sounded damned fantastic, but why Floyd was insisting that it was Spencer who posted them in mailboxes and stuck them to trees down the road they had been watching, was a mystery to him. It was not a place he wanted to go to. Not a place Floyd wanted to. It looked second rate and likely partially illegal. However, Spencer took on the task with no questions. His wrists hurt from being tied up for eight hours. His eyes hurt from the pepper spray Floyd thought had been amusing to use on him. His nose was stuffed from the clout he had taken there too. At least his lip was healing nicely. At least he was doing this task without Floyd monitoring his every move. He had been dropped off with dire warnings of what would happen to him if he wavered from his task. It was vitally important that they were placed where he was told, at a height he was told. He had to ensure that some were left on actual doorsteps, if possible. They had to be in a place where the lad would see them too. They were adorned with pictures of ponies and riders, people flying through the sky, clowns and other circus performers. They both knew that JJ wasn't around that day. It was safe to go out and do this. Spencer had on a hoodie and baggy red jeans. Nothing like he would normally dress. He even had on a pair of sunglasses and white gloves. If someone saw him, it was not likely that they would connect him with the guy who bought coffee at the place down the road, or even with an ex FBI agent. He had half an hour to complete his task. Once this area had been done, Spencer would go and put notices up in other random places. It would have maybe looked odd if they only appeared in the one place.

The circus was in two days' time.

That was how long they had to prepare.

'And stop pulling that face. You're going to a fucking circus if you like it or not. The lad will be there. Easy job done. Nothing to worry about. It will all be over in a matter of minutes. The job done. The swap made. Then we will go home and wait for the next… the next communication. We will pray and we will wait. Sam will be home soon. Doesn't that make you happy?'

'So you snatch him at the circus, then what? You said you'd not hurt him.'

'Fuck's sake, Spencer. I can't tell you the plan. What if you get cold feet and decide to turn me in. What if you walk over to the cops and say you've come back from the dead, have been hiding away in a place just down the road, have been casing JJ's place so you could snatch Henry… and then what? What? What then, Babes? Going to point fingers at me? If I tell you nothing, then there's nothing to tell. Get me? It's that trust thing again. I don't trust you. I would Sam. He I would go over all details with, but Sam's not fucking well here is he? So… I am working with you, not my choice. Not my idea. Not what I like doing.'

'I don't want to have to wash blood off your clothing.' Spencer told him. 'Please.'

'Then you won't have to. No problem. I'm not in this game to kill him. I have promised you that, have I not? Tonight I'm going to take you to the movies. An old place. French noir. We will have fun. Relax. A date, as such.' Floyd ran a finger down the side of Spencer's face. 'Unless you would rather stay in? We could read to each other. Haven't done that in a while. What do you fancy?'