A/N:

Something I forgot to mention in the last author's note. I mentioned Anne Rice, but these are not her vampires. None of her vampires will be mentioned in this story. I don't mean any copyright infringement. Just in case there's a misunderstanding, I don't mean anything by it.

Two

Reid hung up the phone on the subway, where he was on his way to Garcia's apartment. She had picked up worried after seeing his name on the caller ID. "It's not like you to miss work, even if you are sick," she had said. "You okay, Honey?"

"I- I don't know, Garcia," Reid had muttered. He found that his voice had become smoother, more liquid, and he tried to make it sound like his old, grainy-sounding voice. In fact, he had discovered a lot of things on his way to Garcia's place. For example: if he shut his eyes, he could still tell exactly how many people were in the subway with him and their genders. His hearing had become extremely acute, he could hear the rats squeaking as the shuttle passed them in the tunnel. He no longer needed his glasses.

A negative was that everyone was staring at him. "Isn't he that model?" he heard a girl ask several rows behind him.

"No," came the lower voice of her friend. "He looks like him though, cute."

Spencer stiffened and held his breath. He found that he could do that, too. Not breathe. This had frightened him more than anything else. It proved that he might be, in some impossible way, dead. The worst part was that his hamburger was wearing off. He felt like he needed something more substantial, what exactly that was, he refused to think about.

The static surrounded voice of the speakers above announced his stop and he got up, unable to not flash a look at the girls who were talking about him, and left. Morgan would have said to go for it, but right now, he wasn't concerned about that. He only wanted to see Garcia.

He walked the three blocks to her building and buzzed her. "Hey, babe, I see you. I'll be right down," she said. He could hear her smiling. A half minute later, and Spencer couldn't believe how long it took for her to get down there, Penelope opened the door and froze. "Spencer, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I don't know," he moaned, imploring her with his eyes to let him come with her. "I need your help, Penelope."

"Sure, of course, Spence. I would never turn you away," she said quickly as she shooed him inside in front of her. Spencer purposely made his natural gait slower so that Penelope could keep up with him up the stairs, and still she was at least five behind him the entire trip.

Finally, they entered her purple living room and she closed and locked the door. "Be glad I came home early, hon. You wouldn't have me to help."

"Thanks," he said, his mind somewhere else as he stared at the room. He hadn't been here since she was shot, and then the colors hadn't seemed so vivid. Such bright, contrasting colors flashing up at him made him almost have to squint his super-sensitive eyes, this served as a stark contrast to his hunter-green room and mostly neutral-toned place.

"Let me look at you," she said, as though immediately knowing that what had happened was more of a physical thing than anything else. "Might if I turn the overhead lights on?"

"No, they colors'll blind me," he tried to joke, even adding a little grin, but not making her feel better. "Lamps are good, though."

She nodded and flipped on about five small lamps that were scattered through the front of the house, casting a soft glow that made the vivid colors a little more tolerable. "Now sit," she said authoritatively pointing to a small ottoman in front of the couch, where she sat. "I need to see your face, and baby, you're really tall."

He obeyed and sat in the light, looking at her nose.

Garcia gasped once she saw him in the light. "Spencer Reid, when did you become a supermodel?" she asked.

He looked down and grinned in embarrassment. "Garcia, don't. Just… check me out okay?"

"Oh, I'm checking you out."

"I'm serious! You could tell there was something wrong with me when you first saw! Help!" he raised his voice, frustrated.

He only realized just how loud he was when he saw Garcia's surprised face. "Jeez, baby…"

"I- I'm so sorry. Penelope, I really didn't mean to. I mean, I didn't know I could be that loud. I'm just really, really… well… I'm going to go ahead and say that I'm terrified," he began to ramble.

She pushed his jawbone up. "New look, same Spence," she mused. "Your eyes," she furrowed her brow, "What happened to the brown?"

"Gone."

"It can't just be gone," she tried to reason.

"That's what I said."

"And you're really fast," she said. "I noticed coming up the stairs. And you're absolutely frigid! Now open your mouth again. Don't start talking or I'll sock you."

"I think it would hurt you more than me," he muttered and opened up.

"Well would you look at those choppers," her eyes widened.

"So you see them too, right? I'm not insane?"

"No, sweetie, you're not insane. I think I might be though. Reid, how do you not know what happened?"

"I do know what happened," he said. "I just don't think I want to know what happened to me."

"I think you've just got to face facts," she said. "Tell me everything."

Spencer stood up from the ottoman, feeling more like moving than anything else, and paced as he told her about the bald man in the black hood. He told her about his "dream" about him attacking him. He described the symptoms of the sudden onslaught of illness, about his two day snooze and the events that transpired earlier that evening.

"I don't think you were dreaming, baby," she said softly, flopped into the couch in disbelief. "And I absolutely can't question your perfect recall. Many have tried, all have failed. Now it's all a matter of you accepting it." She stood and looked at him pityingly, walking toward him to hug him.

As the human approached him, his hunger roared. Images of killing her, her blood running all over the nice white rug, flashed through his mind and stuck.

"Garcia, no!" he flashed to the other side of the room before she could reach him.

"Ah!" she squealed and grabbed her left hand, holding it to her chest as she looked up, keeping the tears from spilling out of her eyes. "It's okay; it's o-o-o-okay."

"Penelope! Oh, my God! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Reid suddenly was next to her again, holding out his hand. The beast in him roared again.

"You aren't breathing," she wondered.

"Just let me see," he said stiffly as she gave her hurt wrist over, now swelling.

"Must've hit it when you whizzed right on by, huh? So, what's the verdict, doc?" she asked, trying to make light of the situation. Bless her, he thought.

"Sprained," he uttered, held up his finger as if to say Excuse me for a moment, ran across the room and inhaled a lungful of air, and ran right back. "Do you have a brace?" he asked a bit more fluidly this time.

"Yeah," Penelope said, flustered. "I do. I'll go get it. Why aren't you breathing, again?"

She made it across the room and he inhaled again. "You cannot talk and not breathe. You need air for that."

"So I figured," she said, rummaging through the closet and grabbing a brace. "You never answered my question, hot shot."

"Oh, um… I don't really think you want to hear that, um, Penelope."

She looked at him, confused, then he watched as the realization crossed her face. "Oh… OH! Oh, Spencer, why didn't you tell me? What did you do last time?"

"The ground chuck?" he answered, almost not even willing to dwell on it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Okay, yeah. I've got some steaks in there; Morgan brought them over a few days ago. He says I don't have enough meat in the house."

"Can… can I…?" he began to ask as he licked his lips, thinking of the relief he would feel once he could… could just bite into it.

She saw the expression on his face change, his black eyes staring more intently across the room. She saw his fist almost shaking from grabbing the arm of her sofa so hard. "Go for it," she nodded quietly.

"Please, Penelope. I don't want you to see this, all right?" he asked stiffly, tingles going down his back as it grew harder and harder to resist whirling around and going for his friend instead of the cold meat. "Go- go to your room, and lock the door. Don't come out until I let you know it's okay."

She said nothing, but walked backwards to her room, feeling behind her for the knob. Her knees were weak like Jello. Seeing her Spencer act this way… like an animal… nearly ripped her heart in two. He didn't ask for this, it just happened. But what would happen to him? His life? He had only just begun. As she saw his breathing get heavier and his fangs bared, she turned the knob and rushed inside of her room, in one solid movement locking the door and flipping on the light switch.

Penelope could hear the sounds of him searching frantically through her little refrigerator. Then came a sort of blissful silence as he must have found the steaks. Slowly, disgusting sounds of ripping meat floated to her ears; it was enough to make anyone a vegetarian. Suddenly quiet and she heard the sound of Styrofoam hit the floor and a gentle whimpering.

You're stupid! He told you not to leave until he came for you, said her logical side.

The poor dear is devastated, said her heart.

"Spencer?" she poked her head out.

The cries suddenly stopped and she heard his voice carry across the room. "Yeah?" It was different, but still definitely Reid's voice. The upward lilt to it, the way it sounded like bubbles when he got excited, random words that wouldn't make sense to anyone would just pop.

"Are you… you okay?"

She heard an ironic laugh from her kitchen. "You gotta stop asking me that," he said. "Let me clean up."

"You don't have to hide from me, Spencer," Penelope said indignantly as she marched into the kitchen and stared. "How quickly were you planning on getting all this up?" she asked, eyes wide.

Blood from the steak was everywhere on the floor and the cabinets and Spencer as he looked down at himself and shook his head. He looked up at her and tried to smile, but she saw where he had buried his face in his bloody hands and her heart melted for him. "Oh, silly Dr. Reid," she said. "Get up, go to my room and change. I might have some man-clothes in there." She began to take out the cleaning supplies.

He was about to ask her why she would have man-clothes in her room but decided that not knowing would be a lot better. "I've gotta clean this up. I made this mess; it's how my mother raised me."

"A vampire talking about how his mother raised him," she grinned. "Wow."

"I'm not one of those!" he admonished as he turned and walked to his friend's room and began to go through the closet.

"Then what are you?" Penelope shrugged. "A chupacabra?"

"I don't suck goats," he said.

"What?"

"Chupacabra means 'goat sucker'," he mused and walked out in a white, collared button up shirt and some jeans. He didn't look like himself at all, but he didn't look bad.

Penelope looked up at him and feigned a swoon. "Oh, Edward! How you dazzle me!"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I don't want to hear anything about that," he said as he crouched down, ready to help clean.

"You've read those?" Garcia got excited.

"Haley has," he held up his hand as if to calm her down. "Hold your guns. She should be showing up… today. Oh, God she's coming today!" he stood straight up. "She's probably home now. Penelope, what should I do?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Tell her, duh."

"She'll think I'm psychotic!"

"Did I?"

"Well, that's why I came to you first," he rubbed the back of his neck, pacing again.

"Spencer!" she caught his attention. "Spencer, you go. Okay? You aren't going to hurt her because you just… you just ate. I'll keep red meat on hand for you whenever decide to pop in at nine PM again."

"I'm sorry I imposed."

"You never impose. Now get out of here and go see your sister!" She stood up and approached him cautiously.

"You're good," he permitted as she came up and kissed both cheeks. He turned around to leave after giving her a hug and she slapped his butt.

He looked over his shoulder and knitted his brow. "Yes?"

"You should go for the white-shirt crisp look more often. It looks good on you."

"Yeah, we'll see," he said the same thing he always said when Penelope gave him fashion tips. Did he ever follow them? Once, when she said his hair looked better longer. He had agreed.

And now it could never grow again.