18

A/N: Sorry for the delay.

Reid.

I can feel it. It's not just this terrible tension but it's something insidious and rotting around the edges. I would dearly love to go and get my cell phone. There's a number of calls I'd like to make. Air rescue being one of them. Hotch being another but I cant leave the lounge. I don't know if it's an excuse not to go upstairs alone, though it's still daylight – that doesn't prevent shadows from sliding in around from the edges. I shudder and move towards the fire. I tell Floyd that the cell phone is in the side pocket of my bag and he is welcome to go and get it. I'm not sure why I feel safe when Sam's around. I'm not sure why I felt a sudden fear when Floyd came back in again. Was it a look on his face, a glint in his eye? If I could get rid of him for just a short while then I could ask Sam. Floyd leaves the room without a word. He's not said that he's going to get the phone or that he's going to get food. He's said nothing… I've turned to look at Sam who's sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and a look on his face which is a cross between abject terror and a complete brain melt down. I want to ask him what's going on. I feel as though Sam and Floyd both have suddenly realised some sort of danger and are keeping me out of the loop. 'Is it this spirit thing?' Though I hold no belief really in it it's still making my skin crawl. Sam doesn't answer though. His face is wet and his nose is bubbling snot and he's not bothering to wipe at it. I've not heard him coughing today but now I can hear a slight wheeze as he breathes through his mouth.

'Do you love me?' He suddenly says. 'Do you?'

I don't know what to say. I don't love him. I don't hate him. I don't know what I feel for him. I'd feel pity for anyone as terrified as Sam seems to be now. 'We've talked about this.' I tell him.

'But you don't understand Spencer. I don't want to die unloved.' He at last wipes at his nose.

'Floyd has gone to get the cell phone and will be right back. You're not going to die.'

'Then you'll protect me? From that thing?'

I honestly don't know what he's talking about. I do though kneel down next to him. He's spooked by the book which I would so love to put down to coincidence, but I'm really struggling with that. 'Sam, you have to tell me what's going on. What do you know?'

'I know that Floyd went down into the cellar but not just Floyd came back out again. Couldn't you see it in his eyes? Couldn't you see that slick wave of something move across his vision just as he left the room to get the phone? Spencer…' Sam put his hand tightly on my arm. 'He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me for letting you fuck me. I know he is. I've known it all along. He's just been waiting and now I have a horrible feeling that somewhere in the back of Floyd's head that thing has been there lurking all along.' Sam seemed to suddenly go limp as though all his strength had been sucked out of him. 'OOH… oh fuck. Spencer… everything is backwards. We have to get out of here.' He stood very wobbly on his feet and opened the lock on the window. 'This way. We have to go. Now Spencer! Out now before he comes back again and lets it free.' Sam slid over the window sill and disappeared. I leaned over and looked at what he was doing. 'Spencer he put a hand out to grab me as he got to his feet.'

But I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave the house. 'Sam! Get out of here.' And though I'm whispering my voice still feels much too loud. 'Go to the priest. Don't ask the locals! Avoid them!' Sam is up on his feet and he's running. He's dexterous. He can manage snow far better than I can. I close the window and watch as he runs through a new flurry of Snow and then I move quickly out of the room and into the kitchen carefully avoiding looking at the cellar door - where I begin to make some sandwiches. Cheese for Sam, ham for Floyd, chicken for myself. And yes I know Sam's running for what he obviously feels is his life, but I don't want Floyd to think I know that. I'm just placing the sandwiches on the separate plates when Floyd walks in and has a quick look around.

'Where is he?' He asks me. He has my cell phone in his clenched fist.

'In the lounge.' I pick up a plate and offer it to Floyd. He walks slowly towards me and I'm trying to see his eyes. Sam said something about his eyes, but he's looking down at the plate. 'Ham.' I say. I don't want to say too much, I can feel my throat closing up on me and now the plate is beginning to shake along with my hand. He knows. I know he does. I can tell by his posture. I can tell by the way he's breathing. 'Or you can have cheese.' I feel so stupid. What am I doing offering him a sandwich?

'He's not in the lounge. Where is he?'

I don't know what to say so I go to put the plate on the counter just as Floyd's hand comes up and smacks it from my hand.

'Don't you fuck with me! Where's Sam?' The plate smashes and the sandwich falls apart.

I bend down and begin to pick up the pieces but now his hand is resting on the back of my neck. Oh I know that's what I wanted so much when I saw him massaging Sam but now I just need him to remove it. I stop what I'm doing and let the bits drop back to the floor again. 'I don't know.' I say, which is partially correct. I said to go to the priest but if that's where he went or not I really don't know.

Fingers begin to twist in my hair. It's shorter than he'd like it. Is this why he always encouraged me to keep it longer? Was it so he could drag me around by it easier? Not that it matters. He can still drag my head up. I bite down on my bottom lip. I'm not going to show him that it's hurting. The fingers twist and drag and pull at my hair and I stay crouched on the floor. 'I got you this.' The cell phone falls to the floor next to the broken plate. I don't move. I don't reach out for it and it's good that I didn't. His foot comes down on it. His boot heel crushes it. 'Where is Sam?' He asks again. 'Babes I can go and find him, but I'd have to leave you here, so for your own good and for your own comfort it'd be best you tell me. What did he say to you? Where is he? Where have you sent him?'

'If I knew I'd not tell you.' I try to keep my voice firm. There is only a slight waver there and I manage to talk and not stutter my words. 'Let go of me.' I place a hand over his and try to get him to let go of my hair.

'Don't you fucking well tell me what to do you nasty little bitch!'

I'm not completely sure what happened. I think he somehow swung me by my hair and I skidded on my side across the kitchen floor, smacking my head on the wall by the door. 'Floyd no!' I howl out as he comes skidding down onto the floor next to me.

'And why not? Why the fuck not? You deceitful fucker!'

I defend against his fists. I'm not the weak kid he used to have fun beating up on and I'm certainly not Sam. However I'm not Floyd either. I do manage to block the first couple of strikes with my arm. I try to wriggle so he cant sit astride me and I cant move fast enough. A fist catches the side of my face and I feel my teeth rip into the soft skin inside my mouth. I then feel my own fist make contact with his face. I feel my hand wrap around his throat and I'm pushing back. Another fist lands on me, but it only catches a glancing blow, my own fist catches him on the mouth. I feel his teeth cut into my knuckles. I have probably done more damage to myself than I have him and he's howling abuse and spitting at me.

'You little mother fucker! You whore's slut dog!' The rest of it is just a garbled mash up of words I don't understand. It's definitely not Latin though! At least not any form of Latin I learnt. He's given up punching me and now I see his face coming down hard towards mine. It gives me a chance to do what he'd been doing to me and I grab his hair.

'Floyd stop it!' I'm screaming at him. His forehead makes contact with my eye and though I'm not pulling at his hair now I've not let go either, but he's moved so that his knee is resting hard between my legs.

'And give me one good reason why I shouldn't just rip you apart here? Tell me! Come on Dr FB- fucking – I… tell me why I shouldn't just finish this now? Why don't you talk to me motherfucker?'

My hand is no longer around his throat. My hand is slipping from his hair and I'm still trying to get a good look at his eyes and he wont let me. He wont let me see. 'Because Floyd you don't want to do this…'

'Feels like I do. Where is Sam?'

I take a deep breath. 'I'll tell you if you get off me.' Now I've got a hand on his shoulder. I'm not pushing him away, but it's still firmly there. I've got a mouth full of blood and my eye's closing up already. 'Floyd?'

And as suddenly as it started it's over. He moves away and pulls up on a counter and stands. 'Well it better be good Babes or I'm going to kill you much slower than I'd already had planned. No one fucking hits me ever. You understand that? No one fucking well ever raises a hand to me.' He's rubbing at the places I caught him. His lip is cut, he's got a mark under his eye.

'He said… Sam was talking about the spirit thing. Then he went into a sudden panic and said it's all in reverse. He climbed out of the window, but I don't know where he went.'

Floyd's breaths were coming hard and fast and I was sure that I saw something which looked almost like oil drift over his eyes. Was that what Sam had seen and realised? But what had he realised? And how did he recognise it?

'Here's the thing.' Floyd's leaning back on the counter on his elbows. It's almost as though what just happened – well didn't. It's as though a switch in his head just turned off, or maybe blew a fuse. 'Sam's gone running for help.' I blink but don't say anything as I slowly get up from the floor using a stool for help. 'And I cant really leave you here untended.' He tells me.

'Untended?'

He gives a dismissive gesture. 'But will you have the balls to leave the house? After last time? What do you think Spence? I have a good feeling that you'll cower in the corner and piss yourself every time you hear something rattle in the cellar, but I don't think you have it in you to leave and go out there…' He thumbed over his shoulder towards the village. 'Now I should go running after him.' Floyd pushes up from the counter and starts to walk away towards the front door. 'So where'd he go Spence? Where did the Doc send my Sam? To the book store?' He pulls open the curtain covering the small window at the side of the door. 'I don't think so. I think that spooked you too much.' He turned to face me again. 'To the church? What a little fool he is.'

'I don't know.' I remind him.

There's a deep frown on his face and his fingers are rubbing at his temples. I can see that there's sweat pouring down his face and his breaths are short and shallow. 'Spence?' And then that puzzled look has gone again and he's turned and is walking out into the snow. He doesn't close the door and I'm still leaning on the stool in the kitchen. I can only see him for a very short while but he's walking quickly and then is out of my line of sight and has gone. I pull myself up and walk on legs made of jelly which somehow still don't want to bend and I stand at the open door and I try to force myself to go and follow.

'I cant.' I moan to myself and quickly slam the door. The same thing which had tethered Sam to the house had now got its noose around my neck… but Sam had gotten out. And maybe if I wasn't so weak then I would be able to get out too. I feel that the only reason I cold leave earlier was that something allowed me to so I could find that book. Of course that only makes any sense at all if there is no such thing as coincidence and there are such things as demons and spirits. Floyd though needs no demon or spirit to possess him to be a (excuse my language) bastard. I walk to the lounge and pick up the book. It seemed to be snatches of an imaginary life Sam had… But if I was permitted or almost forced to go and get this then it must have been for a good reason. I try to block… as Emily would have done… compartmentalise – and I read the book, which is almost a diary.

The Priest's House.

It was like something had hooked Sam's brain and was winding him in – and now winding him in too slowly either. The snow was deep but the air wasn't as cold as it might have been and the ground was mostly soft. He worried at first that Floyd would just follow his tracks and then realised that Floyd would be able to follow him anyway. For maybe a full minute he stood and tried to pull the ring off his finger but the more he pulled and twisted it the tighter it seemed to get until it was actually digging in and beginning to hurt. With a small whimper he looked up the hill towards the ancient church. 'Why are they always on the top of a hill?' He muttered to himself and with a quick glance behind him self started to run again. He felt horribly sick and the more he ran the worse he was feeling. He had a stitch in his side and puke was crawling up from his stomach and sliding over the back of his tongue. He coughed and spat out a slimy covered lump of something, kicked snow over the greenish coloured thing and then continued his journey at a walk. His knees felt wobbly and his head was hurting. Three more times he stopped to cough up something nasty from inside of him. He wanted to think that it was because he'd had a chest infection or some such thing, but he didn't think so. He was sure that if he took time and looked close enough that there'd be things crawling around in that slimy mess.

Standing in front of the church (but not actually within the grounds) Sam could see that the place was locked up. He let out a cry of dismay as this was not how it was meant to happen. Father Green was meant to be there waiting for him. Father Green who would maybe not be the most holy of men ever but Sam felt almost safe with him… in him… around him. He ran frustrated fingers through his hair. Where was the priest's house? It didn't seem to be here. There was just the church with a small wooden fence around it and that was all. 'Now what?' He turned to see if Floyd was running up the hill towards him and seeing that he wasn't in sight yet made Sam panic even more. He should have been there by now. He should have caught up with him by now… There was someone walking up the hill from the village though and so Sam took a deep breath and walked towards that person. A woman with a walking stick and a scarf on her head. 'Excuse me.' He said as he got closer. 'I'm looking for the priest.'

She gave the young man a curious look. He wasn't really dressed for the snow. 'The redbrick at the bottom of the hill. Number two.' She said. 'He's new.'

Sam nodded thanks and his heart skipped slightly with rising hope that it was going to be who he really expected. There was this feeling inside of his mind by a miracle of the gods Danny Green would be here and he would save Sam from the monster living inside Floyd's head. There were two redbrick houses at the bottom of the hill and one of them had a big red 4 on the door and the other had a 2. He pushed open the gate and ran to the door and started to hammer. He rang the bell. He hammered on the door again. He kicked it a few times and finally the door opened and Sam steamed into the hallway, let out a loud cry of horror and pain, bent over and threw up on the rug.

'Young man?' The middle aged man by the door said. 'What's going on?'

'Where's Father Green?' Sam wailed at the man who was not who he was meant to be.

The priest shook his head. 'I'm sorry young man I don't know who you mean.'

More puking and Sam's head began pounding double time, his vision was blurring and a nose bleed happily started to drip. 'Oh dear fuck…' Sam turned pushed the priest out of the way, let out another howl of pain and leapt into the snow onto his knees. 'You have to help me!' Sam stayed on his hands and knees. 'Holy water and wafers and you know the stuff? Hurry! We have to get back there!'

The priest was standing in the doorway still with an eye watering stench of vomit coming from behind him. 'Where?' He took a careful step out into the snow. 'Tell me what's wrong.' He reached out for Sam who squawked and slid away. He didn't want this man touching him. It actually hurt.

'To the house. We brought it back with us! I thought, I really thought that the thing was down in the house, but it's like…' Sam looked up at the priest… 'Everyone is going to die! We have to… but I don't know what!'

As far as the priest could tell he had a very drunk or drugged young man in his front garden. 'I will call for help.' He took a quick step back. This young man had an odd unpleasant aura about him which he didn't think had anything to do with drink.

'Who the hell are you?' Sam screamed at him as he wiped blood from under his nose. 'Father… You realise that the only way to destroy it is to call it out. We have to call it. What's its name? Do you have the notes from the priest who was here before you?'

'I don't know…' He took another step back. 'Are you talking about the trouble at the beach house? Are you getting involved in things which…' He stepped back into the house. 'I cant help you.'

To Sam's complete horror – at least at that moment he thought it was his complete horror, but he soon realised that his horror was far from complete – the priest stepped back into the house and closed the door. He let out a soft moan and ran back to the door and started hammering on it again. 'You have to help me! You have to help!' The calls for help turned into a whimper and then just one hard thud when a hand rested on the back of Sam's head and a voice said into his ear…

'… You should have jumped off the cliff when you had the chance.' Then his face made hard contact with the priest's nice white door and he left a blood smear over it and over the snow as Floyd dragged the limp form back through the snow to the house.

Reid sat with his back to the wall and the book next to him on the floor. He'd read it, but he was having trouble understanding what it was trying to tell him. He had though, he thought, prepared. A search of the few belongings Floyd had brought with him found him a collection of his hand rolled smokes. He'd found a disposable cigarette lighter in the kitchen and further searching meant that he'd managed to hide a hammer behind the cushions on the couch. He also had stuffed into his pockets four plastic binders which had been recovered from Floyds bag. He'd had to move fast the get his collection of things ready and now all he could do was wait for Floyd to come back. Hopefully Sam would get back first though with the help of the local priest who must know the history of the house and know what to do. That was his hope. Now all he could do was sit and wait. He knew what he had to do. All he had to do now was actually get the chance to do it if Floyd came back. He could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere and there was a drip, drip, dripping noise coming from the kitchen. Reid didn't know how long he sat there picking at the soft skin of his inner arms. He didn't have his watch on and that clock wasn't in this room and he wasn't going to get up and look for a clock either. He didn't think his legs would let him stand up just yet anyway. He rubbed at the sore places where Floyd had hit him and picked more at his arms.

The front door opened with a sudden crash which forced a small yelp out of Spencer. He heard footsteps, a dragging sound, the door slamming shut and then there was Floyd standing in the doorway covered in snow. 'I've got lunch.' He smirked and dragged Sam in behind him by one arm. He dropped him onto the floor just inside the door.

'Lunch?' Spencer's voice sounded much too small.

'I said that Sam would be the first. I said that he'd be eaten and his bones spat out… I said that didn't I? I'm sure I did. Come to the kitchen and help me prepare. He's not got much meat on him, but…'

Spencer pushed up keeping his back pressed against the wall. 'Sam?' He wanted to say more but his tongue seemed to want to glue it self to the roof of his mouth.

'Who else? Hurry up now Babes. It's much quicker if two of us work together. You do want to work with me don't you? You'd not betray me again would you?' Floyd crouched down and picked up one of Sam's feet.

'You killed Sam?' Reid tried to take a step forward.

Floyd shook his head. 'No, Sam killed himself when he snuck out of the window and tried to get help. Suicide by total stupidity I would think it's called. Now come on, I know it's cold out, but I don't want the food to spoil. It's one thing living off road kill, but things like this Sam here…' Floyd gave Sam a kick. '…well they rot quickly and I need to take his head.'

Reid took a side step towards the couch. 'It's, it… it's very cold out.' Spencer commented. 'I mean… you must be cold.' Floyd gave Reid a curious look wondering where this was going. 'And you've obviously been…' He looked at Sam trying to see if he was breathing. '…working hard. Come and sit down and relax.' Reid patted the couch. 'I'll massage your neck. Get rid of some of the stress. I can see… I can see… that you're stressed.' Reid moved to behind the couch and placed his hands firmly on the back. 'Please. You look like you have one of your headaches. Let me help you.'

Floyd grinned. 'I just said that the food will spoil.' But he walked slowly to the couch.

'It can wait. You use spices and herbs to disguise things like slightly spoiled food. It will be fine. What's the hurry? It's not like he's going anywhere is it?'

There was a slow nod from Floyd. 'I suppose and my head's killing me.'

Spencer smiled though he thought it might have looked more like a grimace and it hurt to do. 'You should keep your head covered in weather like this. That wind from the sea…' He watched Floyd flop down onto the couch. 'Relax and let me massage your neck. Lean forwards slightly.' Spencer placed a hand on the back of Floyd's head and pushed him forward a bit. 'How about your back?' There was a low contented groan from Floyd as Spencer ran fingers over the back of Floyd's neck and down his back. 'Close your eyes and relax. It's only me.' Another mumble from Floyd and Reid slipped the hammer from behind the cushions. Still rubbing at Floyd's neck with one hand he readied himself to smack Floyd on the back of the head.