7

You Are Not Invited To Dinner.

He flew through the door like there was a fire monster on his arse. Dear Danny Green stands and looks at me and he's shaking his head. I don't know what his damned objection is now. I've had a bath. My hair is clean. My clothes are revolting but they're dry. I've not felt dry in like for fucking ever but he's still not happy. I do a twirl for him and flick back my hair with the tips of my fingers. There's no one else here at the moment. The kitchen bitch has gone for an hour or so but will be back so she says.

'You cant stay for dinner.' Father Danny Green informs me and the happy smile I had on my face slips away.

'I'll behave.' I would. Really I would behave. I know what's at risk here. I'm not stupid. Though having said that it doesn't stop me from moving in close and rubbing like a dirty bitch dog in heat against his leg. 'I'll stay in the kitchen.' I whine. He doesn't push me away as I continue my dry fuck against his leg and turn so that I'm looking into those blue eyes of his. He actually wraps his arms around me and holds me. Oh my fucking God! I can feel him through his clothing. He wants me so bad. 'You can have me here… have me now.' I whisper into his priestly robes. He smells absolutely fab! Like a man. Like a man in heat. That's such a divine smell. It makes my head spin.

'You cant.' He tells me, but his voice is husky. 'I cant.' He adds. So I don't know what he's talking about anymore and my face is hot and my hands are touching him and rubbing at him and I'm still rubbing against his leg. Dear lord! I tip my head back and his mouth is sucking on my white flesh. 'I'll give you some cash. You have to leave.' He speaks onto the hot skin of my neck

'I need you.' I make sure he understands this by rubbing harder.

'Sam…' And now gently he is pushing me away. 'I have people coming around for dinner. You cannot be here. I'll give you some money.' His fingers are touching my face, my lips, stroking over my eyelids, following the curve of my nose. 'Get a hotel room for the night. What happened to you? What happened to your face?'

I let out a soft moan and pull back in close to him. I'm going to make a dreadful mess in my clean clothes but I don't care. 'Hold me for a while.' I beg him. 'Please.' And I'm rubbing again. He has a hand on the small of my back so I lean into his hand and arch my back. I bet I look so fucking hot.

I'd say even a priest wouldn't be able to resist me, but yeah… seems he can.

'Sam…' He likes saying my name like that. It's like I should be able to read his mind. But his mind is not really on godly matters right now cos his tongue is on my lips and he kisses me real deep and hard and his teeth bite gently on my tongue as I dry hump and let out a bit of a noise as I seem to lose control and I'm clawing at his clothes and curling a leg around him and pushing him back against the fancy dresser with plates set there ready for his guests. I'm a sweating heaving sobbing lump when he forces fifty bucks into my hands. I look at it and then I look at him.

'This is all I'm worth? Just fifty fucking bucks? How much do I get if I blow you?'

I think I've upset him. He looks maybe even angry. 'It's not payment for your fun. It's for a room. For the night.'

'Then I can come back again tomorrow?' I whine and moan and bitch about it being cold and he gives me a ratty old coat and doesn't answer my questions. I'm shown the door and he again kisses me as we stand there on the front door mat and he runs hands over my face when he releases me. 'What happened?' He asks me again.

'To my face?' I laugh. 'I got smacked. Don't worry about me Father Green. I have fifty bucks probably nicked right out of your collection plate. Have a lovely evening.'

'Sam.' I think that's all he's going to say again but he carries on. 'Be careful.' The door is opened and he pushes me gently out into the night. Oh I'll be careful. I've got a plan you see. I have a bit of paper with five names written on it in his hand. My name is one of them. The last one actually which in a way is a comfort. They are names of kids he's helped. Helped himself to no doubt, but I have no proof. Four of them have addresses written next to their names. Two of them are in a hostel and two of them have private addresses. Mine doesn't. My name has nothing written next to it. They are all quite local though. They are all in easy reach. I memorise the names and addresses and start to walk away.

I'm not happy that I've been thrown out for the night, but he didn't tell me not to go back and he's only given me cash for one night so I'm going to take that as an invite to return. And when I return I'll have no competition.

And Some Tiny People Have Spikes and Knives.

He didn't get me a blanket. The heating has gone off for the night. That doesn't stop them. I can claw at this crappy wall for an eternity but it wont stop them. They slide out of the wall and they crawl over my hands and I punch the wall and rub my hands over my legs but they cling with little things which are like claws and like knives and like fuck knows what they are. Some fly around my head and I swat and flap at them but they just stop flying for a second and then they're on my hands and crawling up under my sleeves.

Something is in my hair and I pull at it and drag at it and things pop and squish under my fingers and try to get in my ears but there's already a good sized cockroach hiding there in my brain… it eats anything which goes in there.

'Fuck yeah!' I shout that and someone bangs on the wall. Do I disturb them with my howling and screaming? Do I care? I have hair twisted around my fingers now but it doesn't stop them from getting all over the fucking place. My nose… they're trying to get to me by going up my fucking nose! It's given me another nose bleed.

Where the hell is Spencer anyway? Why's he not here sorting this shit out? More snort might be nice but my last twist is on the coffee table with the booze and with my feet as they are (nailed – firmly nailed to the floor) I cant reach. I grab the phone off the desk and think of phoning someone but I hate telephones. Really do hate them and thus I don't use them. Therefore I have no numbers stored, but this isn't actually my phone!

Fooled you! 'Motherfucking fairies get the fuck off me!' It's usually a pygmy or two that comes to piss me off with blow pipes and shit. Never seen buggers like this before though. The curtains are open. I can see the bright lights out there scudding over the dark. They reflect off the bottom of the clouds and send beams of light through the window in all the fucking colours you can imagine. Actually I think there's more than you could imagine. It's like some fucking crap disco in here now and it's fucking cold. I told him to get me a sodding blanket but the selfish bastard just walked out. A smoke. I have a smoke in my pocket and so that's lit now. I wonder about setting fire to the place. That'd get rid of these things trying to crawl over me but Spence might get pissed with me if I burn him apartment out to a pile of twitching ash. Also there is a vague thought that it might burn me too. Unless of course the floor burns through first and I cant release my feet. The smoke from the cheroot chases away the fairy fuckers and seems to block the flashing lights for a while. It looks as though there's things out side the window, but I know there cant be. We're up on the fifth floor here. No one can be there. I lob the telephone at the window anyway. Fucking nosy bastards!

Snake Pit Tavern Just Off Kings Street.

Spencer ducked in quickly to the public toilets which adjoined the grocery store at the bottom of his road. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his face for a while before pressing down on the tap and getting a supply of cold water. His face didn't look like his own. It looked yellowish and sickly. There were deep dark marks under his eyes which he couldn't put down to lack of sleep. The brow of his right eye was slightly swollen and there was dried blood caked to his forehead and stuck in his hair. Carefully he touched the places which hurt the most and felt around for any bits of clock which might still be stuck there. He then pulled out his phone and stood leaning on the wall looking down at it. The first number he dialled was his own.

'Pick up.' He muttered as the numbers clicked through, but he got a busy signal. 'Damn.' He sighed and then stood again just staring at the phone. Again he pressed a couple of numbers… speed dial two… and stood with the phone to his ear. 'Hey.' He spoke quietly through the throbbing pain in his head. 'Derek, sorry to call you. I really need to talk.' He stood trying to stop his hands from shaking as he listened to the reply. 'No! No… not my place. I'm not at home.' Again he listened and sighed with something which might have been relief and might have been more of a realisation that now he was going to have to say something to someone. 'Thank you.' He said almost in a whisper and turned his phone off. He didn't want someone calling. He didn't want Derek to call back and say that he couldn't make it. He didn't want Floyd to call and ask where he was, though that was as unlikely as Floyd suddenly turning up at his apartment on Christmas Eve. He used paper towels to wipe away the water on his face and then made his way slowly to Snake Pit Tavern. It was Morgan's idea to meet up there. Spencer supposed that Morgan would know which places were open or the best to sit and discuss problems in and why else would Reid have called Morgan tonight if there wasn't a problem.

Derek was already there when Spencer walked in. There was a half pint of something in front of Derek and a small measure of whiskey in place ready for Reid. Derek gave Reid a nod but said nothing. He pushed the glass towards Spencer and indicated for him to drink up. The place was almost empty. There were small booths around the edge. Music was playing at a level just loud enough not to be annoying. They walked to a booth and slipped down the bench facing each other. Spencer sipped on his drink. Derek said nothing. He was taking in what he could see.

'I have a problem.' Reid finally said as he placed the empty glass on the table. Morgan waved a hand at the bar staff but still said nothing. It was evident that Spencer had a problem. Derek just wasn't sure what had caused it. Another two drinks were placed on the table and Morgan waited for the pretty young girl to leave before he spoke.

'Who hit you?'

Reid sipped on his drink. 'I have a domestic problem. It's not work related.'

'Your girl friend hit you?' Derek wanted to feel amused by this but didn't.

His amusement slipped further when Spencer shook his head. 'Not exactly.' He took another gulp of his drink and leaned forward towards Derek. 'This is in confidence Derek.'

Morgan now looked bothered. 'You know I cant make promises Kiddo. Tell me what's going on and I'll see what can be done to sort it. Have you have those cuts looked at?'

'I looked at them myself. I know it looks bad, but it's not as bad as it seems.' He placed a hand on his stomach. The sudden arrival of drink was making where he'd been stamped on hurt. 'It's not really me I'm worried about.'

Now Derek looked confused. If Spencer was in this state and it's not him he's worried about… 'You beat up on someone?'

'No… Maybe that's my mistake, but no. I just laid there and let this happen to me. I had a visitor. Someone I knew from the past. He's back.'

Morgan stood up. 'And he's at your apartment? That son of a bitch Flanders did this to you?'

'Sit…' Spencer gestured for Morgan to sit back down again. 'It's not how it looks. Really. It was my fault. He's not well Morgan and I don't know what to do.'

'Not well!' Morgan bellowed, but sat down at the same time smacking his hands down on the table. 'He's never been well! Why did you let him in? Why didn't you call someone? Why leave it until now? What the hell do you think you're playing at? He's a serial killing son of a…'

'He's never been charged.' Spencer tried to reason.

Morgan leaned over the table and grabbed Spencer's hand. 'Just how hard did he hit you Reid? You know what he is. You could lose your job for simply being in the same room as him. Please tell me it's nothing more than him needing to slap you around. Tell me it's nothing more than that.'

Reid pulled his hand away from Morgan. 'I've not come to confess my sins to you Derek, I need advise. I need to know what to do. I cant go back there. He's…'

'He's a damned psychopath!' Derek finished. 'He should be locked up. Anywhere. Locked up and tied down and the key thrown away. Death row is too much of a cop out for him. He needs to suffer for eternity.'

'I think he is suffering.'

Derek stood up again. 'Oh please! You called me out here to tell me that you feel sorry for him? He doesn't suffer Spencer! He enjoys every minute of it.'

'I was going to call a doctor for him.' Spencer said in a whisper. 'He's sick Derek.'

Again Morgan sat back down again. 'A doctor?'

Reid showed his hands to Derek. 'I don't know what else to do. He's committed no crime as such. He's seeing things, talking to himself, paranoid and delusional. He needs help not being locked in prison.'

'Fine. You've made your decision. I don't understand it personally but that's up to you. Why ask for my advice?'

'Because I know any doctor I take back with me will be attacked. Assuming he has managed to un-nail his feet.' The last bit Spencer said with a touch of sarcasm he didn't often use. He then went on to explain to Derek what had happened… he missed out the bits about being naked. He missed out the part about the shower. He told Derek how Floyd had suddenly burst into a rage and beaten him with an alarm clock, and he then said about Floyd claiming there were things in the walls. 'He needs help Derek. I really don't think he's doing this knowingly. He needs help.'

'Needs help.' Derek repeated. 'You keep saying that. You've convinced yourself that he's done nothing wrong… fine. Get him help, but you are going to have to explain this to Strauss or at least to Hotch.'

Spencer pulled a face and looked down at the table. He fiddled with a few grains of salt and then looked up. 'I'm resigning.' He said. 'I don't think I'll be able to go back to work. Not after this mess. I cant face them Derek. I don't want to have to explain my life to everyone over again. I'll write a letter – hand it over to Hotch.'

'I'm going to your place. I need to see this for myself.' And again Derek stood.

'Please! Please Derek don't. He'll try to kill you. He has such a deep…'

'He's a racist. I know. You don't have to tell me, but I'm not letting you out of my sight until I've seen for myself that this monster you get so attached to is actually out of his mind and needs help. Are you sure he's not just got a real bad case of

dissociative personality disorder? You seem to attract them.'

'He's not a racist! And I don't know… I don't think so… I think he might have a brain tumour or something.'

'A brain tumour which makes you hate someone because of the colour of their skin or the way they talk or the…'

'Derek… Help me. He gets horrific nose bleeds.'

'He takes multiple drugs. He's cannibalistic…'

'Morgan.' Spencer hissed. 'I don't know.'

'I'll come back with you. If his feet are nailed to the floor then there's not much he can do now is there. I'll see what I see. If I agree with you then we will call someone. You though are not to resign because some lunatic is demanding that you do. I don't care what you have going between the pair of you and frankly don't want to know, but Reid kiddo this man has to be stopped. He needs to be locked up somewhere. Whether that be a prison cell or a locked ward in an asylum is what needs to be decided. You want me as the sensible head to think this through, then I'll try to be that person, but I know him Reid and I know what he's capable of. And if he's back in the city then people are going to start going missing and the blood trail is going to lead back to Flanders – and back to you.'

'I understand.' Now Spencer stood.

They walked back to Spencer's apartment in silence. Morgan was thinking of the million things which could have happened and most of them he wanted out of his brain never to come back again. The other things just worried the hell out of him. Spencer had obviously not told the whole story. Great lumps were missing from what he'd told Morgan and knowing that Reid could recall everything in detail meant that some things Reid was purposefully keeping back. It was those little gaps which bothered Derek the most. Spencer was silent because he feared if he tried to talk he'd throw up. Not only was the pain in his stomach increasing but the pain in his head coupled with the fear of what was going to happen next… it made for a very unsettled stomach for Spencer. There was now the growing fear of what Floyd would do when they were alone again and now he was wishing he'd called Hotch. Though that would have also been a mistake, as would have calling Prentiss and that just left Garcia, who was not the right person to help him today or Rossi who Reid really didn't think would understand at all. It was really Gideon he would have wanted here right now, but… Well Gideon was not available anymore.

The elevator was still at the bottom floor, or was at least there again and the pair of them stepped in. Derek was expecting there to be blood up the walls, or for the elevator to break down, or Flanders to suddenly appear out of the ceiling hatch, but it was disquietingly normal. The bell dinged and again it was oddly quiet in the passage leading to Spencer's apartment door.

'Wait.' Reid placed a hand on Morgan's shoulder and then quickly snatched it away again. 'Let me see first.'

Derek looked at the gap at the bottom of Reid's door almost expecting to see a flow of blood seeping under it. He nodded though and stood next to the door with his back to the wall. 'Just call.' He whispered as Reid slipped the key back in the lock and pushed the door open. Silence again and Reid's stomach heaved in panic. He could see Floyd was still there. From the door he could see down the short passage of his apartment; the broken pottery still on the floor, Floyd laying back with his legs bent and his feet flat to the floor. There was what looked to be blood up the wall. It was cold. His comfortable apartment suddenly had the feeling of a morgue to it. He took a deep breath.

'Floyd?'

The thing on the floor moved and turned awkwardly to face Spencer. 'Don't think I don't fucking well know he's out there. I'm not fucking stupid. What's he want? Did you call him?'

Reid took a step in. 'I was worried…'

'Were you darling? Well that's sweet. Why not get lovely Emily? Why that thing?'

'I was worried… I didn't know what to do. I didn't think Emily was the best person though.'

'So you chose that fuck? Well you are so thoughtful babes. I'll remember this. Next time you're in need I'll fucking remember this fucking…'

'Floyd… you need help.'

'Not from him I don't. I'd rather boil my dick in acid than accept help from that thing.'

'I just needed someone here who wasn't emotionally involved. Someone who wasn't going to…'

'Fuck you! Fuck Agent Fucking Derek Fucking Morgan! What can you do? What the hell can you do? Turn the fucking lights off! They're boiling my damned brains.'

Spencer stood in the gloom and wondered what lights Floyd was talking about. He moved in though running his hand along the wall attempting to ground himself. My apartment, my life, my home, don't let him manipulate you like this… He pulled the curtains closed and then called Derek in.

Morgan already had his phone out before he showed himself at the door. He was expecting to be leapt upon as soon as he showed himself but Flanders just groaned and looked away. The place was a mess and Spencer was standing back out of reach of Floyd just staring at him.

'What are you doing here Flanders?' Morgan eventually asked. 'You're not wanted. No one wants you. Go back to whatever pit you dragged yourself from.'

Floyd's eyes narrowed and his hands which were lying across his chest drew up into fists. 'Spence wants me. Tell him Spence. Tell him how much you want me.'

Reid looked at Morgan, but Derek wasn't going to take his eyes off Floyd. 'Get up off the damned floor you son of a bitch. I'm taking you down for assaulting a Federal Agent.'

'Fuck off. Spence hasn't filed a complaint and he's not going to are you babes? He wants me. You might not, which is mutual, but Spence wants me and I cant get up off the floor cos some fucking miniature bitches nailed me here. Now you can get over here and attempt to reason with them, but they don't listen.'

Spencer shrugged slightly as though to say to Morgan I told you he was bonkers.

'Well Reid you might be fooled by this performance but I'm not.' Derek turned, pressed a few buttons on his phone and walked from the apartment. Floyd turned his head to look at Spencer.

'You're going to let him get me taken away? You'd do that? After everything? You'd let that fucking nnn… him… you'd let him make decisions whether or not I am able?'

Reid knelt down, but still out of reach. 'You need help. We are getting you help. Someone will come and sort out the mess for you. They'll help you Floyd. You cant just lay on my lounge floor tearing up my walls and screaming. You need to be in hospital and have tests done and sort your head out. We are doing this for you.'

'Don't fucking talk to me like I'm stupid! I know what his plan is. They'll pin some fucking back street murder on me. They're itching to get me for something.' He dropped his voice to a whisper. 'You know… you know that night…'

But Reid started to shake his head. 'No. I'll not listen and I'll not know. I don't want to know.'

'Doesn't make you innocent.'

Reid stood as Morgan walked back in. 'Someone is on their way.'

Spencer really hoped it was more than one person and he hoped they had stun guns and tranquiliser darts.

The Cockroach Speaks For Floyd.

I'm sort of aware, but not so much… I know I'm screaming something but I don't know what it is and I don't know who it's at. I feel flesh… I tear at it. I can feel the blood oozing between my fingers and I'm sure I can hear Spencer's voice saying 'No… no… don't!' But I don't know who the fuck he's talking to because he knows never to say 'no' to me so it's not me he's talking to… fucking lunatic that he is. He's probably fussing over his fucking chair. He hates people sitting in his chair.

I seem to be on my front which is a puzzle as my feet are secured to the floor so maybe they've ripped them away. Lots of hands all dragging down on me. Deep dark demons pulling and breathing on me and talking too fast or too slow… or in Latin, or Rumanian... and oh… Hungarian… that's ok. I can understand that… or maybe it's English… fucking don't know what's what now cos that mother fucking thing in my brain is killing my ability to make sense of anything… My hands seem to be behind my back. Something sharp is stabbing into my legs and I'm still screaming at them to get their hands off me. I need to stop the damned little things from getting in.

'Plug – my – ears.' I speak very slowly and I think I speak in English. I try something else to make sure. 'Aures obturabo!' I bellow but they don't seem to be doing what I'm asking of them. 'Non, mihi ipsi!' I'm screaming but nothing is happening as I'm requesting… I try something else. 'Levo meus visio a solum.' But it's no fucking good, my hands are stuck… they roll me over which is a relief as things are stuck to my face. 'Get them off my fucking face Spencer! Get them off me!' And something which I assume is my babes is touching my face and whispering at me that all is going to be good and everything is going to be fine and there's nothing on my face and there's nothing near my ears.

Something warm and wet splashes down on my face and it tastes of sweet tears. It tastes of Spencer, but things are getting really foggy now and grey and sparkly. It's like someone has put grey glitter in my eyes and for a second or two I saw Spencer and then things are crawling over my eyes and I have to close them quickly before they get a hold and puncture my eyes.

I think I might have gone to sleep at some point.

When I awaken a whole new kind of hell has broken loose. I just don't know about it yet. I can feel it tingling through my body though. Something bad has happened. Oh yes… I know I'm tied down to a bed and something is taped across my face puffing air up my nose. I know I'm in a hospital… a specialist place I'll guess… they all have their own smells… but something bad… very bad has happened and soon it's going to reach me. I open my mouth and scream to be let go. I have to go. I have to sort the fucking mess out. 'I have to sort it out!' I'm screaming… maybe in English but I keep slipping into Latin and I don't know why… My brain is a mystery to me sometimes but I think I know the answer. 'It's a priest! The cockroach is a priest! You gotta stop him!' But they don't listen. Why would they. They think I'm insane.

(They might be right but do I have to admit that? Fuck no.)

(Besides… the damned thing in my head has taken over… From this point on I am innocent of any wrong doing.)

(Which means I can be a nasty bastard and get away with it.)

'It's not me! It's the creature in my brain!' There… just in case they don't know.

A/N: OK so this is taking me longer to set up than I thought it would. Sorry! Thank you for the reviews… Pb xox