13

Sam's Evening

I'm not angry so much as really – maybe I'm a bit angry but I feel like my plans have just collapsed around my ears. He wont even let me have my new clothes. There's always something I have to do first. Clean the fucking apartment… Shower… Eat… And now it's that I have to keep my hands to myself and I think that Spencer is a bit of a shit for keep moving the line. I need to have something I know I can aim for. What's the point in doing something to reach a goal if the bastard keeps moving the goal posts? The heating has gone off. Spencer doesn't care that I've only got a bathrobe and a couple of blankets. He's all snuggled down under thick duck down stuff and I've got a couple of old scratchy things. He's told me to stop acting like a kid and so I will. I'll show him exactly how intelligent I can be when needs be. I tip toe to the kitchen and close the door and then I place the kitchen towel on the floor in front of the sink and turn on the cold water and I let it run for a little while and then plug the outlet, grab a mug and walk to the fridge-freezer where he has an ice dispenser. I fill the mug with ice and tip it into the water which I've now turned off. I do this a couple of times and then replace the mug and I roll up my sleeves and plunge my hands and arms into the icy water up to my elbows and I leave them there until I'm full all over shivering. I carefully dab my hands and arms dry because I don't want to rub at them and get them warm again. I put my cold hands on my neck and kept them there until my teeth are chattering together. Then it's time for my feet. I bounce up so that I'm sitting on the work surface and slide my feet into the water.

'Aaahhh fucking shit!'

I hope my cry wasn't loud enough to wake Spencer, but damn that's fucking cold! I jump down onto the towel and dab quickly at my feet and then give my hands another turn in the water and remove the plug and just stand there shivering my fucking arse off. Which is a good point. I put cold hands on my butt – however I don't leave them there for too long. I have a hot backside and I don't want to ruin the effect my warming my hands on it. I put the towel back and exit the kitchen.

Now I put the heating back on again. This will work better if we can get all sweaty. I then stand in front of the bedroom door and with my teeth still chattering and my nose streaming I give it a light tap. He doesn't answer and I didn't expect him to, but that's fine. I didn't need him to. I open the door and quietly close it behind me. Spencer is as I thought all snuggled down warm under the covers and here I am freezing half to death.

'Spencer?' I whisper. I don't care if he doesn't know I'm there. 'Are you awake?' Still nothing.

Now I have to be really careful because he told me to keep my hands to myself or I wont get those things and I can see them laid out on the chair in the corner and they make my heart pound in delight. Spencer is laying on his side and so really carefully and with the bathrobe still on I slide under the covers so that his front is facing my back. I need him to wake up now so I move one of my feet and place it like a block of ice onto Spencer's leg and he's awake!

'What? Sam! What are you doing? Get out!'

He's pushing my back trying to force me out. 'But I was so cold! I'm so cold. You cant leave me to freeze. I've got a chest infection. I'll die! Do you know how quickly hyperthermia can set in? Especially when that person is weakened all ready. I just want to be warm. I didn't touch you! I kept my hands to myself.'

'Your feet are like ice! It cant be that cold. What have you been doing?'

But one of his hands is touching my neck which he can tell is also very cold. I reach up and put one of my hands over his and he lets out a small yelp of surprise. 'I'm freezing. Just let me warm up a bit and I'll go again.' And to make sure that I've not wasted my time I touch his leg with my toes and make him jump.

'Fine… just to warm up and then get out of here. I gave you blankets. Put the heating back on. I never realised how cold it got.' There was a nice little pause as arms wrapped around me. 'You're so cold.' He whispered.

Well that's how I managed to get into Spencer's bed. That's how I managed to get warm and moreover that's how I got what I wanted. Spencer is an FBI agent. He is also a ravenous slut. I knew that if I could get him to embrace me that it'd not stop there. You see he's forgotten all ready his own diatribe. He should have figured it out himself. I'm not stupid. I also have this wonderful ability to seduce with my pheromones. If he only knew that the sweet smell of roses wasn't from the shower soap but from the depths of my slightly depraved and needy soul. I can get someone to forget their promises to forgo me for a while. I cant compel that same person to like me. And what's more I cant make that person forget what they've done; now that would be a useful talent because I get the feeling that he's going to be infuriated with me again in the morning. But right now you will excuse me… something's need to be private.

The Following Morning.

Floyd had a big list of Things To Do. They were a mixture of different medications they insisted he took, dates and times for therapy meetings, doctors appointments and emergency telephone numbers which they wanted him to use next time he had a crisis. There was also an appointment to talk to someone about alcohol dependency, drug dependency (the latter which Floyd pointed out was a ridiculous thing to say as they'd just filled out a prescription so he could take a fist full of shit every day.) They told him that his mental health depended on him following up with the services they offered. They told him that next time his mind might snap and he'd not find a way back again. Floyd told them that his mind slipped eons ago and he was perfectly happy the way it was. He thanked them and wearing a pair of second hand sweatpants, an old hoodie and a pair of worn down sneakers he left to do what he really needed to do.

His first stop was to the bank where he withdrew a huge amount of cash. They asked if he'd rather take the money in some other form but he insisted that it had to be cash. They asked if he wanted to hire security to ensure that he made it home and not get mugged. He turned down the offer. He next visited a small realtor and sat in the office explaining exactly what he was looking for. They checked their computers and came up with the perfect thing and Floyd handed over money to pay for his little surprise for Spencer. He also visited a small shop and bought a box of rat poison. Next he visited a used car lot and bought a battered but reliable black van. He was having a good day. Things were turning out good. It had been well worth not killing everyone in the hospital he'd been dragged to by that damned Derek Morgan. He'd pay Morgan back for that.

With a spring in his step, knowing that he wasn't wanted for anything and that the cops had nothing on him and that Hotch was probably still red faced and pacing… Oh… Floyd had one more thing he wanted to do before he went home. He visited a store and purchased a games consol and a huge selection of games. He had them delivered to an address on the outskirts of the city. The package was to be addressed for delivery to Jack Hotchner. They kid would be delighted… Floyd was very sure of that. He also stopped off somewhere special and picked up something for Sam. And now with a small smirk on his face he walked home to gather Spencer into his arms and show him just how much he'd missed him.

He went up via the stairs. He had a lot of energy which needed to be expelled slightly before he saw Spencer. He knew though that something was amiss before opening the door to the apartment. He could smell it. He could taste it in the air. He stood and just listened for a while, but there were no screams coming from the other side. Floyd placed his hands on the door and tried to feel what was wrong, but still he couldn't quite place what it was. Something corrupt; that's all his mind would let him process. Then there was a sound. Footsteps in the hallway; Spencer's footsteps going to the kitchen maybe. Floyd slipped his key in the lock and pushed open the door. It was then that the smell really hit him. It was almost over powering. Spencer stood staring at Floyd and Floyd stared right back at him.

'Did I disturb something?' Floyd looked at Spencer standing there in an old pair of cords and a ratty Tshirt.

Spencer gave him a nervous smile. 'Disturb? No… I wasn't expecting you home today…'

Floyd walked into the hallway and closed the door behind him. 'No? Well you wouldn't have known would you? Wasn't like you were showing any interest in my recovery process. Not one visit? Not one? What's kept you so busy? Where is he? Still here. He's still here.' Floyd pushed Spencer aside and walked down to the lounge.

Sam jumped up from the couch where he was sitting reading and let out a yelp of happiness. 'Floyd!'

And Floyd took in what Sam was wearing… he looked at the overly tight overly low cut red jeans… the small red and black checked top… the big shiny red boots. He also took in that very familiar smell. 'Well this is nice and cosy. I'm away in hospital, no one but Hotchner thinks to pay a visit and you two are getting jiggy in my apartment. What a lovely home coming this is.'

'It's not how it may look.' Spencer was right behind Floyd which was maybe a mistake. Floyd's elbow made easy contact with Spencer's stomach and forced a grunt of surprise out of him.

'It's exactly how it looks!' Floyd then moved forwards quickly making a grab for Sam who was moving backwards but not quite quickly enough. A hand wrapped around Sam's neck and now he was being pushed back towards the wall. 'You think I'm a fucking moron? Do you really think I don't know what you've been doing? It stinks like a fucking whore house in here! I can smell it out in the corridor! You filthy fucking animal!' Sam's back was now against the wall and hands were pulling and scratching at Floyd's hand trying to get him off.

'Floyd stop!' Spencer again from down on his knees behind Floyd. 'Just stop it!'

'Has he asked if you love him?' Floyd was looking at Sam but talking to Spencer. He gave Sam a shake and Sam gave out a small noise of what Floyd hoped was fear. 'Has he? Has he whined and moaned and begged you to say you love him? What else has he done? Curled up against you and let you fuck him?' Sam's feet were now coming off the floor and boots were kicking at Floyd's shins. 'He's a filthy whore!' Floyd span around still holding Sam around the neck. 'Did you buy him these clothes? Answer me Spencer!'

'He had nothing.' Spencer was pulling himself back to his feet and reaching out to grab Sam and pull him away from Floyd. 'Please put him down.'

Floyd hurled Sam across the room. He landed with a resounding thump against the book shelves and then slipped to howling crying lump on the floor. 'OK… I've put him down, but if he gets up again I might have to fucking well snap that pretty little neck that your damned mouth has been all over.' Floyd pulled something from his pocket and threw it at Spencer. 'I got you a gift. You might want to take Sam with you…' Floyd walked away and down towards the bedroom.

'Oh my fucking god. He's going to kill me Spencer. He's going to go in there and know everything.'

Reid sat down on his chair with the paperwork Floyd had lobbed at him in his hands. 'He all ready knows everything Sam.' Spencer moaned. 'And I suspect that we're both going to be on his hit list. Don't move. Just stay where you are.'

Floyd pushed open the bedroom door but didn't enter. He stood and looked at the towels on the floor, the discarded bathrobes, the clothing, the mess the bed was in and the small neat pile of new clothing on the chair. 'Spence babes!' Floyd called out. 'Can you do me a favour?' And though to an outsider Floyd might have sounded calm and relaxed Spencer knew better. 'Can you ask Sam to remove his boots please.' Still Floyd didn't move. He was taking in all the different smells assailing his senses. Slowly though he moved from the bedroom and walked to the bathroom. Again he pushed open the door and just stood looking. 'Are you doing what I requested you dirty whore?' His voice still sounded calm.

'Yes! Yes… boots are coming off.' Spencer's voice didn't sound so calm and by the noise and howling going on from Sam he certainly wasn't feeling any where close to being calm.

Floyd walked back into the lounge. Spencer was on his knees in front of Sam pulling off the second boot. Sam was curled up with his arms wrapped around his head crying and muttering something about being sorry. 'Sam pull yourself together and get those slut's clothes off now. Spencer he can manage. Get your damned hands off him.'

Spencer moved back out of the way and as quickly as he could Sam began to strip off. 'Spence babes can you go and brew up some fresh coffee. They sort of didn't want me drinking any where I've been. They said it's bad for my nerves. What do you think Spence? Bad for my nerves or calming? Not that it matters… Good… keep your distance from me Spence… Sam you're not moving quickly enough. Get those damned jeans off and don't even think of telling me that you're sorry. Don't want to hear it. And I've not told you to stand up. Get back down on the floor where you deserve to be. He watched Sam wriggle out of his clothing and then sit with his arms wrapped around his knees and his head down. 'You're a good boy really Sam. You know when you've been a little bastard don't you?' Floyd pulled a tiny glass phial out of his pocket and held it up. 'Look what I got for you. LOOK! Look what I fucking well went out of my way to get you. Here you are up here being a filthy rat fucking dog motherfucking…' He paused and waited for Sam to look. When he still kept his head down Floyd walked to him and kicked him in the left shin. 'Look!' Floyd's free hand grabbed Sam's hair and pulled him up to see. 'Can you see now?' A small whimpering sound escaped from Sam's lips and a hand reached up for what Floyd was holding. 'Oh you cant have it. Not now. Not now.'

'Floyd…' A small whine of a voice. 'Please!'

'Please?' Floyd dropped the tiny bottle of poppy oil onto the wooden floor and stamped down on it. 'Fine. All yours.' As Sam howled in distress that his lovely poppy oil was seeping into the wood, Floyd dragged him over and pressed his face down into the little bits of glass and narcotic. 'Enjoy it.' A hand touched Floyd's shoulder gently. 'I hope that's not you babes. I hope you're not pawing me after you've had that dirty hand on Sam's dick.' The hand quickly went.

'Floyd sit and we can talk about this.' Spencer's voice was outside slapping range and Floyd was crouched down grinding Sam's face into the small shards of glass.

'Talk about it? Yes you're right. We need to talk about this. I think I'd enjoy that.' He stood but still had a hold of Sam's hair. 'First I need to put out the trash. Such a shame that there's no garbage chute in this place. One which goes straight down to an incinerator. I would have had just the thing for it.' He walked across the lounge dragging a screaming bleeding kicking Sam behind him. 'Spencer be a love will you and open the door? Quickly now… a bit faster… this vermin is trying to escape.'

'Please Floyd… put him down. It's…'

'Don't even think of telling me it's not his fault or it's not necessary because I know it's both. So keep your fucking mouth shut until you have something to tell me which might change my mind about what's been going on here. How I see it though is I was away and you thought you'd fuck Sam. Open that fucking door!' Spencer didn't move though. He stood back next to his desk and did nothing. He didn't help Sam. He didn't open the door. He didn't say anything. He just stood and watched Floyd drag Sam down the short corridor, open the main door and hurl him out. Floyd left the apartment door open, walked quickly back to the bedroom, picked up a damp towel off the floor and then walked out into the passageway. Spencer's apartment was the last door down the corridor and Sam had quickly crawled into the far back corner next to the fire door. Floyd crouched down next to him and laid the towel over him. 'Don't you dare fucking go anywhere… you hear me? If you even think about leaving I'll know and I'll come get you and take that fucking ring from your finger. Actually I'll bite your damned fingers off one at a time… don't even think that I wont. You understand me?' He prodded Sam with a finger. 'I have more of that stuff. You want it you will be a good rat and stay just where you are. Don't talk to anyone and don't you fall asleep.' He patted Sam on the side of the face. 'If I was you though I'd pick that glass out of your pretty face before it scars. Right now the only thing that's stopping me from ripping out your guts and stuffing them up your greedy arse is that sweet face of yours.'

Sam looked up at Floyd. 'You really have more?' Can I at least see it?'

'You think I'm a liar? Oh fine. Yes I can see that you'd imagine I was a deceitful fuck like you are.' He pulled out another small phial. 'There you are princess. All yours… but not if you move.'

'I need a pee.' Sam stared at the bottle and made note of the pocket Floyd was putting it back into.

'You're going to have to hold it in or piss where you're laying my darling little dark angel. I'll be back.' Floyd stood. 'Not sure when, but I will and if I've found you've moved I'll nail your feet to the fucking floor.' He turned his back and walked back into the apartment slamming the door hard behind him.

Spencer was still standing next to his desk. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his chest and was taking long deep breaths in an attempt not to freak out in panic. Floyd got them both some coffee then told Spencer to sit. The mugs were placed on coasters and as Spencer carefully keeping his distance from Floyd sat down, Floyd flopped down on the couch. 'It's exhausting… all this shit. You know what I mean Spence?' Floyd rubbed at his temples. 'I've been so doped up for the past fuck knows how many days that I'm finding it hard to think straight, but I do believe that these meds are allowing me to remain calm and keep my temper from over flowing. Have you seen what I got for you yet? Have you fucking bothered to look?'

Reid picked up the bits of paper and scanned through them quickly. 'Thank you.' It was all he could think of to say.

'Yes, it's nice. I thought you'd like it. Log cabin by a lake… well no maybe not… as you said bad things happen in log cabins, but that's not a lake as such and it's more of a small house than a cabin, but it's right on the beach. Beautiful. And I checked that there's local nightlife and a local place with bars and bright lights to comfort your aching soul when you think of Vegas. I bought it. But I put your name on the papers. You know that fucker Hotchner is tracking everything I do. I've no doubt he's going to be tracking you too. So Spence… drink up… coffee is good… and then tell me why you think it's OK to take what is mine, dress it like some cheap back street hooker and then fuck it. I'm really interested to hear your answer.' Floyd picked up the book Sam had been reading and flicked through the pages. He then placed it on the small table and looked at Spencer who'd not answered his question yet, or thanked him as he had been hoping.

'Sam had nowhere to stay. I told him he could stay here. I made it very clear… I told him… I… I didn't invite him into my bed. He… Sam… had nothing to wear. I let him buy some things. He was so unhappy…'

Floyd cut him off. 'Ok… let's break this down into small understandable sections shall we?' Floyd slid off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of Spencer. 'You made it very clear… that's good. You are aware that Sam wouldn't have taken notice of your instructions aren't you? Maybe you'll remember if there's ever a next time… your bed? That's interesting because I was under the impression that was my bed or at the most our bed. How do you like what I'm wearing Spence? Do I look good in a hoodie and someone else's fucking crappy shoes? Sam wasn't walking around naked. He had clothes. You didn't have to get him a load of stuff to make him look so whorish.'

'It's what he wanted.' Spencer whispered.

'Oh… so Sam demands and you give in? So tell me is that why you took him in my bed?'

'He was cold. Ice cold Floyd. He's got a chest infection.'

Floyd's hands went to Spencer's knees. 'Spence love… Sam's mind doesn't work like every one else. He's got some kind of imbalance going on in his brain. Give him one simple nice thing and he'll assume he has a right to molest you. Now what we need to question is what we're going to do next.'

'I trusted him.' Spencer placed his hands over Floyd's. 'I told him to stay in the lounge. I told him…'

Floyd nodded. 'Would you trust a rat not to eat the grain in the bag you'd just placed it in? Naughty rat… don't eat the grain… it's not yours. Really Spencer you expect me to believe that? So did he sneak into your room all cold and get into bed and beg you to warm him up?' Floyd pulled his hands out from under Spencer's. 'He did didn't he? And you didn't think to block the door knowing that Sam was out there wanting you to have his arse and keep him warm and safe. Damnit Spencer.' Floyd stood. 'Was he reading to you?'

'No… no he was reading to himself. I was writing a letter. I've done what you requested and resigned. I handed in my sidearm and I've told Hotch. I need to take in my ID today and give in a formal letter.' Spencer pointed at the desk. 'You can read it.'

'Not much point. You're not writing a letter of resignation.' Floyd went back and sat on the couch. 'I said I'd write it and you can sign it. I don't see why that arrangement has to change just because there's a naked whore in your hallway. I'm wondering how long it will be before someone reports that.' Floyd sipped on his coffee. 'I might find it within myself to forgive you. I just might. But forgive Sam? Nope… I'll not. So what should we do when Hotchner turns up because he's going to? Not only will an alert flash up that there's been police called to your apartment building but there's another reason I think Hotch might come to see us. Now… this is why your head isn't being smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor right now… I want Hotch to see you happy, so I suggest that you go and tidy up that shit hole of a bed room and light some scented candles to get rid of the stink and I'll sit here and contemplate what I should do about that rat, but before you go Spence, you've not said if you like me dressed like this or not.'

Reid shook his head and shrugged. 'What's the point in answering such a question? Any answer will be wrong. If I say you look dreadful you'll rant on about how you've been walking around like that or tell me that your out appearance is just a shell or some such rubbish and I should be looking at the inner you and not your clothing. If I tell you that you look good you'll rage on at me about how you don't usually dress in such a way and am I saying I don't like how you usually dress. I've known you too long Floyd. There's no answer to your question which will be the right one. I'm not even going to bother trying. I will however say that looking beyond the clothing and seeing the inner you is not something I want to do right now.' Spencer stood and wiped sweaty palms on his hips. 'I understand why you're so angry…'

'…no you don't Spence. You don't have a fucking clue. Let me know when Hotch arrives and don't let Morgan in here again without a warrant and don't let Sam back in without asking me first. I'm going to think about what needs to be done next. Maybe we can just go see what that place is like that I got for you? How does that sound? Tell me when you get back from making our room look like it's our room and not a fucking brothel.'

Spencer stood in his small hallway looking at the closed apartment door. He knew he should have done something to defend Sam. He should have just stood there and watched. He wanted to go out and check up on him and make sure that the cuts to his face were not going to get infected. He was aware at how run down Sam was and how prone to infections he seemed to be. He wanted to take him out something warm. A hand ran down Spencer's side making him jump. Floyd had crept up and for a horrible moment thought that Floyd had been sucking his thoughts right out of him.

'Sam will be fine.'

Spencer made a low groaning noise. 'He's sick.' Spencer said.

'Very. But he will have to learn. Talking to him doesn't work. Pain and fear is the only thing that ever really gets through to him Spencer. No amount of talking to him and saying that he cant have what he wants is going to sink in. He's not constructed to be able to process that sort of information. He knows though that if he does something and then I smack him around a bit that what he just did was wrong. It's the only way he learns. You should have clobbered him one yesterday… not appeal to his better nature. He doesn't have one. Remember that Sam is just an item. He's just something to fuck… it's his only purpose. That is the only reason I'm forgiving you… that and I've missed you and it'd seem a shame to throw you out of the window before you've even seen your lovely new home.'