Hi Friends!

Super duper thanks to all the reviews, follows, and adds. You guys are awesome and you keep me motivated no matter how tired I am from work. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to respond to you but please know that I love hearing your thoughts.

Sorry that the chapter is shorter than normal but I thought something would be better than nothing.

Please please please overlook any mistakes.

Enjoy!

Around 5:30 a.m. the sun started to break through the darkness. The room began to take on a pale sheen as the light fought against the borders of the blackout curtains in an attempt to infiltrate the room. Reid, who had been lying awake all night long tossing and turning restlessly on top of the lumpy mattress, finally allowed his eyes to close.

Unfortunately, the trill of the alarm clock sounded fifteen minutes later, sufficiently squashing his meager attempt at sleep. He opened his brown eyes up and stared at the stucco ceiling. He heard Damien flip over and turn off the alarm. The genius could feel the other man's eyes on him and wasn't surprised when he asked him a question.

"Are you awake?"

It took all his effort to not roll his eyes at the unnecessary query, "Yeah."

"I'm going to go shower. Do you need the bathroom first?"

"No."

"Okay…are you alright?"

Pushing himself up off the bed, Reid replied, "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep very well." Like he was going to admit to the other man that he was up all night due to the lack of light.

He didn't bother to listen to West's response and only offered him a weak smile before he took off to the bathroom. The younger man waited until he heard the water running before he decided to get up and get dressed for the day.

He quickly donned his conservative outfit and pulled out his brush from the bag. He went over to the full length mirror attached to the wall and started to tame his tangled trusses. Behind him he could hear Damien singing a song through the spray of the water. "At least one of us got a good night sleep," he muttered as he examined the purple bruises that encompassed his eyes.

An annoying chirping sound came from the nightstand that was positioned between the two beds. Reid turned in annoyance and went and picked up his phone.

"Reid."

"Good morning Pretty Boy. Are you and West planning on joining us for breakfast? We're all meeting in the lobby in ten minutes," Derek's dulcet tone came from over the phone.

"Yeah, we'll be there."

"Excellent. See you soon," the man said before hanging up on his end.

Reid pocketed his phone and turned toward the bathroom. He was about to go knock on the door and tell Damien to get a move on when the man sauntered out dressed to the nines and with his hair perfectly quaffed. Spencer raised an appraising eye, "I guess you're ready then."

"Yeah, I forgot that I packed this suit in my go-bag last week and it's all I've got to wear. Oh well, looking good never hurt anyone."

"Yeah…right. The team is meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes for breakfast. It'll only take me…a few more minutes to get ready, but…you can go on without me if you want to," Reid said, yawning intermittently between his words.

"Nah, I'll wait. I've got to straighten up my stuff anyways," Damien explained, turning toward his bag in order to hide his pleased smile at the boy's obvious exhaustion.

Spencer nodded and made his way into the bathroom in order to finish his morning rituals.

The two agents were the last to arrive in the motel lobby. The others had already gathered together by the quaint fireplace and were engaged in various conversations when they approached.

"Morning," Damien called out as they neared the group.

Four heads turned toward the booming voice at once. A few "good mornings" were issued in response to the friendly greeting as they made room for the two agents.

"What took you guys so long? You're almost thirty seconds late," Rossi jibed good-naturedly.

A small look of panic flitted across Reid's features, "Oh uh…I…uh…I was –"

"Relax Reid, he was only joking," Hotch said, cutting off the profiler's explanation.

"I knew that."

Morgan snorted, "Sure ya did, kid."

The group laughed at the ribbing and started to discuss their breakfast options. While JJ and Rossi argued back and forth over the virtues of attempting to eat at a sit down restaurant instead of fast food Morgan turned to his lanky friend. "Hey, did you sleep alright last night?"

The genius rubbed his eyes, "Yeah."

"Seriously? 'Cause you look like the dead."

Reid winced at his friend's unfortunate choice of words, "Well, the mattress was terrible and it kept me up for a little while. So I wouldn't say it was the most comfortable night's sleep I've ever had but I'll survive."

Morgan, not buying the kid's excuse for a minute, was dying to ask him if his sleeplessness had anything to do with the dark, but he knew Reid wouldn't want him to bring that up in front of everyone. So, against his better judgment he let it drop for now.

All of a sudden Hotch's phone started ringing. The stoic man glanced at the screen before answering the call, "Detective Witt?" The man's facial expression never changed as he listened to the man on the other end of the line. "We'll be right there," was the only other thing he said before hanging up the phone. Ever the leader, he looked at his team and minced no words, "They found another body. Morgan and Rossi go to the victim's house and get started on victimology. JJ, go with them and talk to the family. Reid and West, you two are with me. We need to meet with the detective one more time before we present the profile."

Once the orders were issued the team broke off into their respective tasks. Reid, still feeling lethargic after his inadequate night's sleep, had no problem with getting in the back of the SUV and allowing one of the other agents to drive.

Halfway through the drive Hotch's phone went off again and this time it was the M.E. Apparently their unit chief wasn't pleased with what the man had to report and subsequently decided to send Reid and West to go reexamine the bodies. Reid, displeased that he was still being teamed up with West, sat silently in the backseat until they dropped off their boss.

As he hopped up into the now vacated passenger seat, the genius took a good look at his partner. The man, while having been pleasant yesterday, still hadn't garnered Reid's trust. There was just something off about him. Of course, the genius was happy that they had been able to work and room together yesterday with no incidents, but he still didn't believe that someone like Damien could change his ways in such a short amount of time. In the end, he decided that the best way to deal with the other agent was to just keep his guard up.

Satisfied with his decision didn't even realize that his eyes had started to droop shut. It took the parking of the car and the cut off engine to bring him out of his haze. He sat up straight in his seat and looked out the window, expecting to see their destination but his eyes were met with the sight of a strip mall instead, "What are we doing here? The M.E.'s over on State Street."

Damien gave him some sort of excuse about having a headache and needing to grab some medicine. Reid didn't like it but the offer of a fresh cup of coffee cut off his protests. He really needed the caffeine after last night and wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It didn't take too long for the other man to get back to the vehicle with the promised beverage. He handed Reid's over to him and set his own down in the cup holder.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," West said as he pulled out into traffic.

The veteran profiler took a sip of the hot coffee, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing it. He scrunched up his nose at the abnormally bitter aftertaste that was left on his buds. It was strange, the coffee had been perfectly sweetened to his liking with plenty of cream but yet it tasted off. He took another drink and got the same results. The coffee connoisseur smacked his tongue around in his mouth trying to determine the new taste.

"Something wrong?"

Reid cleared his throat, "Uh…does your coffee taste alright to you?"

West took a pronounced sip and let out a satisfied moan, "Oh yeah. It's just what I needed this morning too. Why? What's wrong with yours?"

"It's leaving a bitter taste on my tongue."

The other man chuckled, "It is coffee you know. It's always bitter, no matter how much sugar you put into it."

"I know…but this is different than usual."

"Well maybe it's the beans they used at the diner. I'm sure they didn't splurge on the best Columbian brew available. Their discount brand is probably upsetting your dignified taste buds."

Taking another sip, Reid conceded, "I suppose you're right. Though, I will argue against you saying that my tastes are dignified. The majority of the time I only drink whatever is at the local station and they never have the expensive stuff."

"Touche. Oh, looks like we're here."

Reid dropped the subject as the two got out of the SUV and made their way into the coroner's office.

The visit with the M.E. was a bust. They didn't get any additional information from inspecting the bodies and the newest victim's demise was cut and dry. Feeling slightly defeated, Reid flopped back into the passenger seat and closed his eyes. Exhaustion was starting to take over and his body was urging him to make up for the hours of sleep he lost last night.

Beside him he could hear Damien getting into the SUV and buckling his belt. The car lurched forward and started to pick up speed. Reid knew that in optimal traffic conditions they would be back at the station in fifteen minutes, plenty of time for a quick cat nap.

The profiler could feel his mind get to that fuzzy place that was the border between sleep and wakefulness when West woke him up with a question.

"How did you get that scar on your neck?"

The haze that had overtaken his brain was immediately banished as Reid opened his eyes and cocked his head at the other man. "What?"

"That scar on the right side of your neck. How'd ya get it?"

Spencer's right hand automatically flew to his neck and started rubbing the mark. "I…uh…I got shot earlier this year."

"You got shot in the neck and lived? Damn! That's amazing…I mean…not the fact that you got shot but the fact that whoever was doing the shooting had that bad of an aim," Damien gushed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Reid said defensively, not liking how West was phrasing his comment.

"No…I didn't mean his aim was bad because you lived…it's just, people don't usually walk away from neck wounds. You got crazy lucky," the man backpedaled.

Wincing at the feeling of the rough skin between his thumb and index finger, Reid replied, "Yeah…lucky."

Hearing the unhappy tone to the boy's comment, Damien decided to push the kid further. "What? You'd rather be dead?"

"What? No! That's not…that's not what I was thinking."

"Well than what is it?"

"It…it's nothing."

"Sheesh," West muttered to himself loud enough for Reid to hear. "You would think you'd want to share such an epic tale."

"Look, no offense but I really don't know you and the story behind it is kind of personal. Besides we haven't been on the best of terms and we just started to get along yesterday. So it really shouldn't be that much of a surprise that I don't want to share something with you," Reid fired off at hearing the man's statement.

"Calm down, kid. I'm sorry that I brought it up," Damien said. "Just forget I mentioned it."

Reid was about to correct West's use of the word "kid" again when the car screeched to a halt in front of the station. The probationary agent jerked the gear shift into park and flung his door open, fleeing the vehicle without another word. The genius, slightly stunned by the man's exit, grabbed his coffee from the console and followed the other agent into the building.

Only Agent Hotchner was in the present in the conference room when Reid entered. The supervisory agent was busy talking to Garcia and didn't acknowledge the two men.

"Have you found any female acquaintances that the victims have in common yet?"

"I'm sorry Boss Man but that is one tall order. I mean…there is just no way to really gather that information. The search parameters are just too large and I have no idea how to narrow it down," Garcia explained, her hands silent and still.

Hotchner sighed, "Okay, keep combing through their lives and see what you can come up with. We'll work on how to focus your search here. Check back in with me in another hour if nothing comes up."

"Righty-o. Garcia out!"

The unit chief set down his phone and pinched his nose in frustration. "Please tell me you two got something."

Reid had to swallow down his sip of coffee before answering, "Nothing. The M.E. didn't miss anything and there wasn't anything significant about the method."

"Yeah, it was pretty pointless," Damien added.

Unhappy with their answer, Hotch gestured for them to sit down. "That wasn't what I was hoping to hear." He swiveled his seat to look at the evidence board, "I guess the only thing we can do until the others get back is work on helping Garcia reduce her search parameters."

The three men bounced ideas back and forth for another hour. Several times during their brainstorming session Reid had to get up and walk around to stave off the drowsiness that seemed to be clawing at his consciousness. He thought that the coffee would have helped him feel more alert but he'd only had half of the cup before he couldn't take the aftertaste anymore. The weird taste just wasn't sitting right with him. So he had taken to fiddling with the now cold cup while he waited for an opportunity to discard the beverage without the other man noticing him throwing away his gift.

Regardless of the genius's lethargy, the trio came up with a few ideas and sent them over to their tech goddess back in Quantico. The others arrived shortly after and added the information that they had gathered from the victim's family to the board. Unfortunately, nothing new stood out when they compared the details of Monica Hampton's life to the other victims. Essentially, the team had hit a major road block.

"I just don't get how she is picking her victims," JJ said, staring at the board like she hoped the answer would jump out at her.

"Well, she definitely isn't a mutual friend," Garcia called out over the phone.

"Maybe we're looking at this all wrong," Rossi ventured.

Hotch quirked an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

The older agent leaned forward in his seat, "What usually causes a woman to go crazy, for lack of a better word?"

The other agents sat in silence for a few seconds before Rossi answered his own question sagely, "Love."

"But we…had Garcia look into the victims' dating histories. They didn't have any love interests…in common," Reid argued as he tried to fight off more yawns. The drowsiness from earlier was setting in with a vengeance and he found himself dying for a chance to get a fresh cup of coffee.

Damien jumped up and walked to the board. "Maybe they weren't dating…"

All eyes turned to the new man, including the genius's. Reid raked his big brown orbs up and down the man's figure before he decided that since the man's back was turned he could get up and dispose of the spoiled beverage. The profiler had just left his seat when his eye caught on something poking out of the probationary agent's pocket, a package of doxylamine. The man had a box of sleeping pills hanging out of his pants, not aspirin.

Reid's blood froze as he realized the implications of the little blue box peeking out of Damien's trouser pocket.

He had been drugged.

It was the only logical explanation for the intense lethargy that he had been experiencing all morning.

His breath started to speed up as flashbacks to the last time that he had been forcefully medicated rushed back into his mind. Flashes of needles, twinges of cravings, and images of track marks assaulted his thoughts. He had to throw down his hands on the table to support his weight as he knees went weak.

The whole team noticed his sudden change in behavior and they were all out of their seats in an instance.

"Reid?"

"Hey kid, are you alright?"

Someone grabbed his forearm and guided him back into his seat. "Reid? What is it? Do we need to call an ambulance?"

The doctor's panicked windows looked up and met Hotch's concerned gaze. "No! No…I…I'm fine."

He could hear his other teammates scoff at his words. What was he going to do? He couldn't just reach in Damien's pocket and pull out the pills. No, he needed to be smart about this and back the man into a corner. He had to make sure West had no other choice than to admit his deceit.

"Try that again, genius," came Rossi's wry voice.

"I…um…," he rubbed his forehead vigorously with his hand, massaging his temples while he thought quickly.

"Reid? Pretty Boy…are you having another migraine?" Derek's anxious voice asked, piercing his thoughts.

All of a sudden the solution popped into his brain, "Yeah…uh…yes. Actually, I've been trying to stave it off all day but when I got up it got exponentially worse."

Sympathy painted all of his friends' faces.

"I'll go get you a cold cloth to put over your eyes," JJ offered, exiting the room to go find the police station break room.

"Do you need a break?" Hotch asked.

"No…um…really, I'll be fine. But…," he trailed off.

"What?"

Reid turned to West and stared him straight in the eye, "Could I have a couple of those aspirins you bought earlier today? I think they could help."

The remaining team members looked at Reid as if an alien was sitting in his place, but the younger profiler never broke his gaze. It didn't go unnoticed to him that Damien's hand dropped immediately to the box as all the color left the man's face.