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A/n... because some of you asked nicely, I've decided to carry on with this story. Thank you all for your support. You're all the best.

Damn it! Reid cursed quietly under his breath after nearly slipping and plunging head first down the stairs from the jet. He stopped, took a firmer grip on the handrail and his cane, and resumed his downward descent. Every step jolted his knee and sent pain like fire licking up his thigh.

Overwork, he thought as he stepped off the last stair to the tarmac below. Not overwork, he brain argued, you should have kept your zipper up last night, instead of your dick.

His car seemed like it was a million miles away as he limped heavily through the cold night air. He shivered, pulled his coat around his thin body and moved as fast as he could.

"Reid."

He stopped out of sheer habit and almost turned around to answer, but then he remembered the night before and he resumed his course to his car without a response.

He heard the clatter of her heels on the tarmac and wished he could break into a run. Thank God, the rest of the team was already gone, so he didn't have to play nice with her.

"Reid."

She grabbed one of his arms. He yanked away from her and almost fell, again. Emily's face was pink from the cold and her dark eyes pulled him in before he could stop it. His heart started to race so that he breathed heavily into the dark night, raising steam into the breeze.

"I'm tired and not in the mood."

Emily glanced down at his bad leg. He tapped his can impatiently as more pain radiated through his knee. He just wanted his pain pills, a cup of coffee and bed, alone.

"Reid, please let me say -"

"I don't want to hear it."

He held up his hand as though it could ward off anything she wanted to say. Her eyes began to spark a little, which gratified him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"What did you think would happen?" His voice ended on a squeak. "Did you think I'd just wake up and say, 'oh well, at least we had a fun night?"

Emily crossed her arms and gloved hands over her chest. "It's freezing out here, Reid. Can we go somewhere and talk."

"Oh, I don't think so, Emily. The last time we 'talked,' he made quotation marks with his hand, "we had sex. I'm not in the mood."

"Don't shout at me."

He layered ice, colder than the wind, into his voice. "Don't get angry with me. You're the one that showed up at my hotel room, seduced me -"

"I didn't seduce you."

"Seduced me," He interrupted with a sneer. "Then you left me alone. How do you expect me to feel?"

"I'm sorry," she tried to take his hand, but he flinched away. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Look, Emily, I get what happened. I understand the psychology of grief. It can make us do things we don't mean. Why don't we just chalk it up to a learning experience and leave it?"

She didn't answer for so long that he turned around and limped off in the direction of his car. He refused to turn and look at her when he reached his ancient Volvo. The wind jacked up and whined so loud, he probably couldn't hear her unless she shouted, which was okay. He levered into the car, almost screamed at the pain in his knee and stuck the key in the ignition. She was still standing there staring at him when he drove away and he thought the next few days were going to be hell.

CMCMCMCM

Emily almost slammed the door behind her. How dare he be so self-righteous? He didn't say no. He was as eager as a teenage boy with his first crush.

Oh but sex with Spencer Reid wasn't at all what you expected. He definitely has skills even if he doesn't know it.

She stood just inside the door to her place with her bag hanging loosely in one hand as she thought about that night. Yes, he had skills and his hands - she shook her head and dropped her bag.

You had better keep it as a fond memory because he'll never let you get that close again. She stopped, after taking just few steps toward her kitchen. Why do you think you'll get that close again? That night was just for the sex, right.

Oh God, this is not good.

Suddenly, her appetite was completely gone, and a different hunger took up residence in her gut. She took a couple steps toward the little liquor cabinet in one corner of her living room, and then decided that tea was better.

An hour later, she was stretched out in bed trying to go to sleep, but it wouldn't come. Hypnos was ignoring her that night, so she turned over and stared at the opening in the curtains at her window. She listened to the wind moaning around the corner of her building.

It's going to snow by morning.

She turned over and stared at the strip of orange streetlight on the wall next to her bedroom door. Remember going to sleep last night with his arms around you. He smelled like coffee and happiness. Why did you leave? You could've stayed there. You could be with him now.

She turned over on her back and began to count slowly to one hundred while breathing in and out, and somewhere in the middle, she fell asleep. The dream came so subtly, she didn't realize it was a dream until it was too late.

She stood in front of her bedroom window looking out at the wind pushing huge snowflakes around and down to the ground. The trees and the streets were already covered in white. The wind sculpted the snow into drifts around the streets and against the building as the wind howled with a mournful sound that hurt her heart.

Someone reached around her; through the thin silk robe, she wore open over her bare body. His long, beautiful fingers cupped her breasts. "Spencer…"

He ignored her breathless voice and kissed her neck, licking over her carotid artery as though he were a vampire tasting his next meal. She arched her neck, as she went wet and groaned. "Touch me."

He slid one hand done her torso and let it rest on her abdomen. Gooseflesh popped up on her skin and sweat on her forehead. His head loomed over her shoulder, his mouth busy at her neck licking and kissing. She was wet and throbbing for him, but he wouldn't lower the hand at her waist.

"Please, Spencer, I need you."

He held her tighter at the waist and nipped at her collarbone. She gasped and arched against him. He was hard at her back and his breath panted in her ear, but he didn't speak and he didn't try to touch her where she wanted.

"Spencer."

Suddenly, he said in a voice that was familiar and alien at the same time. "Bitch," and spun her around in his arms. She raised her eyes to his face and screamed.

"Whore," Tobias Henkel spat at her.

He shoved her across the room and into a chair. She landed awkwardly, and nearly fell off the hard wooden seat. She gasped in pain as he went to the other person sitting across from her. She pushed her hair back with a shaking hand and heaved out another scream.

She was in the shack where he'd held Reid. The air reeked with something that smelled like burnt fish, fresh urine and body order. She almost gagged and cried as Reid lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were utterly dead.

"Tell her why she's here."

Spencer's stare never wavered from her. "She's a sinner," he croaked.

"What is her crime?"

"She used her womanly wiles to seduce me into sins of the flesh."

Rafael stepped back into the light with a gun in his hand. "What is this?"

Reid's eyes flicked left. "It's the will of God."

"Choose," Rafael ordered. He spun the revolver's chamber and slammed it home.

"I choose Emily Prentiss."

"No, Spencer."

"You have been judged."

Rafael pointed the gun at her and the barrel looked huge from her seat. "The sentence is death."

"No…"

The explosion of the gun was much too bright. She flinched and found she stood in front of Cyrus's burning church compound. She breathed in and choked on the smoke that hung on the air. The acrid smell was terrifying.

"Morgan, Reid…"

She couldn't see them. "Morgan."

The big man stepped out of the smoke and relief washed over her until she realized that Reid wasn't with him. "Reid, Morgan… Where is he?"

Morgan grabbed her arms as she screamed at him.

"He's gone Emily. It's your fault."

No! She backed away from him and ran into someone. She turned to see Hotch standing there glowering so hard she flinched. "He's dead because of you, Emily. I'll never forgive you."

"No. It's not my fault."

She turned and Rossi stood in her way. "Why couldn't you just love him?"

"Rossi I -"

Garcia was there, tears dropping from under her glasses. "He was my best friend, Emily. He loved you. If you'd told him, he'd have made it out. I hate you."

JJ stood on the other side of Hotch, her hands on her pregnant belly. "I was going to ask him to be my baby's Godfather. Now what do I do? Spence was my friend too. Why couldn't you love him?"

They pushed her around in a circle like children playing a game of disorientation. She spun around, faster and faster. She fell, much farther then she expected, and then the ground was beneath her feet. She tried to scream but nothing came out of her throat. Her eyes opened and it was black night again.

She gasped and retched over the side of her bed, but nothing came up. It was just dry heaves. She got up and went to the window, putting her foreheadthe glass to cool it. Snow fell in large flakes pushed around by the wind. She expected hands to grasp her, but nothing happened.

Spencer wasn't there and it was her fault. She went to the bathroom, flinching against the harsh yellow light. She tried to calm her shaking hands with a glass of water, but the cool liquid didn't help. She stood staring into the mirror and watched as her eyes stayed blank and shocked.

It was a hell of a message from her subconscious, but what to do about it. She used the toilet, washed her hands and threw cold water on her face. She had to talk to someone, but the problem was that she couldn't talk to anyone on the team.

She went back to bed and lay there staring at the clock, which told it was three in the morning. She got up again and went downstairs for more tea. She'd never sleep again and she had to figure out what to do next.