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Title: Oneiroi and Hephaestus
Author: Lady Angel
Genre: Criminal Minds/Supernatural Crossover
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Hotchner/Reid
Disclaimers: If you recognize the character, they’re not mine. Everything else is.
Author’s Note: AU. Really, really AU. The timelines are completely off and I messed with a few other canon tidbits as well.
A GREAT BIG HUGE THANK YOU to Sara for all of her moral support, cheerleading, inspiration and friendship. Without her, this story probably would have never, ever been finished.



Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me – Emily Dickinson

She made a deal with the devil.

Her sanity, her marriage, the world she wanted to share with her infant son.

She bargained it all away to keep her life. To keep him safe.

But in the end, the devil came back to claim her son.

She was too lost in her own mind to know.


The year he turned twenty-three would be forever etched in his mind.

That was the year a killer had used his mentally ill mother to deliver clues to his team; clues that lead them to a burning castle and an ill-fated princess. The twisted fairy tale ended with the loss of a dear friend, not happily ever after.

It was the year a serial killer stole him from the bosom of his FBI family. It was the year he realized that all the schoolyard bullies in the world couldn’t hold a candle to a religiously fanatical father and a terrified morphine-addicted son, both housed in the same body. Hours of fear and pain culminated in digging his own grave before salvation from the terror materialized in a haze of gun fire, dark hair and strong arms.

It was the year he came to the devastating realization that he was addicted to the morphine forced upon him by his abductor.

It was the year that almost ended his life.


Spencer Reid sat at his tiny dinner table, tricolored eyes staring at the little vials of morphine. He knew he shouldn’t have taken them from Charles Henkel’s lifeless body but the addiction’s seductive voice had already taken root in his body and mind. That voice told him those vials had been his by right of inheritance. That voice weakly purred that now would be a great time for another shot of morphine. Once his fingers twitched to do it, to inject liquid bliss into his thin, blue veins.

Only the dreams stopped him.

Fire filled his dreams since the night of his rescue, growing stronger, brighter every successive night. Flowing through his veins, his arteries, emanating from his entire being. The flames caressed him, danced about him, happy to be free at last. They thanked the vials for releasing them before stabbing the morphine in the back, slowly pushing the drug out of his system. There wasn’t enough room in him for both addiction and mythical power.

He had only used a bottle and a half, since he had stolen the morphine, before the fire had completely burned the addiction from him, mind and body.

Reid loved the flames.

Grateful to them for ridding him of the disease.

Grateful for the control over his life once more.

Grateful enough to let them play.

Next to the now useless vials, a large white pillar candle sat, unlit.

Reid stared at it, then flicked long, elegant fingers that no longer shook with unwanted need, over the wick. Delight lit up his delicate features as a single, blue flame consumed the wick before turning to red. The candle burned steadily, flame dancing merrily with the air currents. Mesmerized, Reid let the fire lick its thanks across the tips of his fingers. He felt the warmth, but none of the pain.

That night, his apartment sparkled with the light of a hundred candles. All lit with just a touch of his fingers.


Sam Winchester clutched his head, huddling further into his older brother’s embrace, still reeling from the vision-induced pain. Dean’s voice, soft and hypnotic, soothed the pain and his soul. Moment by moment, the pain eased, letting his muscles unknot, leaving him limp in Dean’s arms.


“I’m okay.” Even to him, he sounded shaky but it was a pain that could not be helped nor controlled.

“Uh huh, sure.” Dean helped him back up on the bed. Sam curled up, grateful for the darkness of the motel room. “What did you see?”

“A guy, fire, the Lincoln Memorial.”

“D.C.?” Dean was obviously surprised but also thoroughly unhappy as well. “The land of the feds? Like the one chasing us?”

“Yeah.” Sam was no more pleased than Dean. He wanted his brother as far away from Agent Hendrickson as possible but they couldn’t ignore his prophetic dreams. Lives depended on following the dreams. It took mere moments for the two brothers to stuff their meager belongings into their duffel bags. It took quite a bit longer for them to carefully repack their weapons into their proper places in the Impala’s trunk. Once done, they immediately left, not once looking back at the anonymous motel that had been their temporary base in Pennsylvania. With Dean behind the wheel, Sam slumped in the passenger seat, trusting his brother to get them where they needed to be.


Chapter One

“Haley, I don’t have time for this.” Aaron Hotchner clenched his fist, consciously relaxing it muscle by muscle. He really didn’t have time for this, but then again, that was only one of the accusations being hurled at him through the phone. That it was his inattention to her that drove Haley to bring another man into her bed. Strange, he always thought that the vows they exchanged included fidelity through the good times and bad. Should he look up the word bad? Did that word’s connotation somehow exclude difficulties at work? Of course, the same could be said about her infidelity. Was cheating covered by the bad times vow? He could ask Reid; he would know. “Haley, I have to go.”

Hotchner wanted to say that he felt no guilt whatsoever when he hung up on his ex-wife. He really wanted to be able to say that. But the reality was a sad lie. He did feel guilt: for not being there for her and their son Jack, for spending so much time at work, for enjoying being at work. But who could blame him? Positive reinforcement was a powerful tool in the hands of the FBI. Every time a case was solved, they commended him and his team. His team gave him a sense of camaraderie and understanding that Haley could never or even try to achieve.

He watched his team through his office window, delaying his return to them for a few more minutes. He knew they had to get to the joint FBI/DC police meeting very soon but he wanted to enjoy them unheeded. He didn’t see the oldest member of their team, but he was sure Jason Gideon was in his office. Derek Morgan and Jennifer “JJ” Jareau were in the bullpen, ganging up on Emily Prentiss, laughing and teasing while dark haired woman blushed bright red and tried to fend them off. She found a surprising ally in Spencer Reid; whatever he said shocked the other three enough to stop all conversation. Only Hotchner could see the little smile on Reid’s lips when he turned away from them.

Hotchner glanced guiltily away when he realized he had been staring at those long, thin lips for seconds too long. If a priest were to ask, Hotchner would confess that while Haley may have acted on her infidelity, he had been culpable of the same sin, if only in his mind. Over the years he had known Reid, he found himself admiring more than just Reid’s incredible mind. Kissable lips, a veil of peek-a-boo hair, and a svelte body that was in turns graceful and awkward. Eyes that saw too much but thankfully not enough. Hotchner sometimes feared what the young man would see in his eyes.

He absently wondered what Haley would think if she knew she had been replaced in his fantasies by a lithe young man that always looked at him with worship in his eyes.


“Our unknown subject is targeting any location where gay men congregate,” Hotchner lectured from the front of the DC police’s largest conference room. The room was filled to the brim with police brass and officers, some who wanted to be there, others not. This was an extremely high profile case; various gay and lesbian groups across the country were demanding the killer be caught immediately. Politicians didn’t like the idea of a serial killer running amok in the seat of American politics. Needless to say, the BAU and DC police were being extremely pressured and carefully watched. “Due to the numerous locales, two pairs of teams will be assigned to each site along with a small skeleton surveillance crew for backup.”

“The teams going undercover will consist of a summer and fall couple.” Gideon took over the explanations, hiding his smile when confusion passed over many faces. “The killer has been seeking out pairs consisting of one young man and his slightly older partner. For those of you who have volunteered,” he paused, when he noticed the winces on many, “or assigned to this operation, you will be paired accordingly.”

Reid watched the proceedings with trepidation, notebook in hand, to hide behind more than anything else, thanks to his eidetic memory. Everyone was needed for this operation and he fit the victimology’s age requirement but he knew he wasn’t ready to participate. Even with his newly gained control he didn’t feel ready. Even his fiery defensive powers couldn’t calm his nerves. He didn’t want to pretend to be someone’s significant other; he could never pull it off. Nothing he could do would make it believable. After all, with no experience to draw on, how could he? He cringed, eyes shutting as he heard his name being called out. He couldn’t wait to find out whom he had been paired up with. His eyes shot open, mouth dropped, mind blanked as he heard his partner’s name. He stared at Hotchner’s impassive face unable to believe his ears. This? This was worse than being partnered up with some random law enforcement officer. This was worse than being partnered with Morgan!

How was he supposed to act all lovey dovey with Hotchner and pretend to not feel a thing? This was turning out to be a worse nightmare than everything preceding and including the morphine addiction. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his thoroughly inappropriate desire for the other man. Hotchner was happily married, a devoted father. Reid had absolutely no place in his life except as a team member and friend. Life, Reid decided, was not fair.

He uneasily watched as agents and officers began pairing up. Gideon and the female half of their team, of course, had been designated as part of the surveillance and backup teams. Morgan had been assigned to DC patrol officer Alex Shannon who was even younger looking than Reid, if that was possible. The African American agent looked like it was any other assignment but the young blond officer kept shooting Morgan wary looks. Reid knew he had to be one of the officers who had been volunteered by his superiors for this assignment and wasn’t comfortable with it at all. Reid could totally and completely understand.


He barely stopped himself from setting his notebook on fire. He didn’t stop himself from jumping at Hotchner’s deep voice. “Hotch!”

“Ready?” he asked, bending towards Reid.

Reid had to force himself not to step back; he was immeasurably glad to see an encouraging smile grace Hotchner’s lips. “Uh, sure. For what?”

Hotchner gave him a self-deprecating smile. “We need to be dressed before we go.”

Reid nodded, following his boss out to the wardrobe department. He resolutely did not watch Hotchner move in front of him. Less than an hour later, they were dressed in clothes that would fit into any bar or club but wasn’t so skimpy that Reid was uncomfortable, thankfully. He leaned back into his chair in the black SUV, observing how comfortable Hotchner was in his clothes and trying to emulate it. At least, that’s what he told himself. Really, he wasn’t sneaking looks and thinking how utterly sexy Hotchner looked in tight black jeans and muscle-hugging black, short-sleeved shirt. And he really wasn’t thinking about how all those dark clothes only emphasized Hotchner’s dark hair and eyes and made his tanned skin glow. Really, he wasn’t.

In less time than he would have liked, Hotchner was valet parking the car, opening his door and holding out a hand. Reid bit his lip, gazing into coffee brown depths, reading reassurance and encouragement there. He slipped his hand into a bigger, warmer one, sliding down from the car and into Hotchner’s personal space. Head tilted back, he was able to keep eye contact, not realizing how sexy he looked gazing up into his faux lover’s eyes. He hesitantly drifted further towards Hotchner looking every bit the shy, virginal, first timer. Those lined up at the club’s entrance positively salivated and frothed at the mouth, envious that tall, dark and handsome had gotten to this sweet, sweet morsel before anyone else had a chance.

Reid didn’t notice any of this. He merely clung to Hotchner’s arm for dear life as they were swept into the club’s darkly boisterous interior. Terrifying minutes passed before Reid found himself safely ensconced between the comforting bulk of Hotchner’s body and the bar. He didn’t think they should drink while on assignment but said nothing as his boss grabbed the bartender’s attention. His drink arrived in a glass tumbler, Hotchner’s in a shot glass. When he sipped at his drink, he was not surprised to find Hotchner had ordered him ginger ale. Continuing to sip, he watched the club, trying to see if anyone was more interested in watching and stalking than in drinking and dancing.

“Reid, you need to relax.”

Hotchner’s lips brushed against his ear making him shiver. He turned his head just enough to be heard over the din, afraid to get too close. “I am relaxed.”

“You look like a cop looking for a perp.” A smile twitched up Hotchner’s mouth before he slammed back his shot.

Reid opened his mouth to refute it. But simply moaned instead. The sound was captured by Hotchner’s lips brushing against his. Big hands held his head steady as those lips continued to brush back and forth, sensitizing Reid’s mouth. Finally, finally, Hotchner sealed their mouths together. Reid whimpered when a tiny trickle of sweet whiskey flowed into his mouth followed by Hotchner’s stroking tongue. He swallowed convulsively, shifting closer, hands grabbing onto the wrists anchoring him to this plane of existence. Instinctively moving his legs apart when his knees were nudged. He let the wrists go when the hands moved south. He gasped into their kiss when those hands cupped his hips and slid him closer, urging him to wrap himself around Hotchner.

He did so gladly.


The road to hell was never so sweet or so responsive. Hotchner groaned as Reid wrapped those lusciously long legs around his hips and those gazelle graceful hands slid into his hair. Reid played with the strands even as he lured Hotchner into a deeper kiss. Jesus, he was adorable and delicious. A combination designed to undermine his restraint. Reid kissed like a nervous virgin but every sound that fell from his lips was sultry and wanton. Every little gasp, every little whimper, every hitch of breath loosened the reins on Hotchner’s control that little bit more.

Reid would be lucky to escape from this bar untouched.

Honestly, he had only wanted to add to their cover, thinking that kissing Reid would further engender the image of a seasoned seducer showing off his tasty innocent to the watching crowd. He never thought Reid would kiss him back. Never thought the world would fall away, or that his control would slip away like mist. Hotchner grunted in pain as a heavy body slammed into his back.

“Sorry, man.”

Hotchner didn’t know whether to thank Morgan or punch his lights out. Luckily for Morgan and his partner, Shannon, the crowd separated them. Glancing back down at Reid’s kiss-swollen lips and lust-hazed eyes, Hotchner didn’t know whether to kiss him again or run away as fast as he could. The hesitant fear filtering into those doe eyes stopped him from doing either extreme. Instead, he lightly brushed Reid’s mouth with his own once more, not letting himself drown in that mouth again. “Spencer, we need to talk.”

Reid nodded, eyes now wide saucers.

“We also need to get back to work,” he added ruefully.

Reid blinked, nodding once more.

Hotchner mimicked his nod, turning his back to the bar to face the dance floor. He kept a respectable distance between himself and Reid. He signaled the bartender for a water, taking those precious minutes to tame his unruly demons that were demanding to be let off their leash and back to their delicious Reid. After gulping the water, he nodded faintly at Morgan, informing the other man that his head was back on the job. He let his eyes pass over the surging dancers. The dance floor was not the place to find their unsub. The killer they were looking for would be sitting on the sidelines searching for his next targets.

There. A middle age man, built like a construction worker, sat at a booth alone, watching all of the dancers. It wasn’t that he was alone that caught Hotchner’s attention. It was the way the man glared at the couples and the air of menace emanating from the very air around him. “Morgan, do you see him?”

“Yeah.” Morgan’s voice rumbled through his earpiece. “Should we wait for him to make a move?”

“We don’t have any reason to question him,” Reid pointed out, those damn lips of his too damn close to Hotchner’s ear.

Hotchner nodded, not trusting his voice not to betray him. Both he and Morgan kept their eyes on the guy but the guy never made a move except to order more drinks. Finally, Hotchner had enough of the inaction. “Morgan, I’m going to get closer. See if he wants to commiserate with a peer.”

Reid grabbed his forearm before he could go, gazing up at him with worried eyes. He squeezed his hand, reassuring him the best he could. Hotchner nearly punched the wall after he made it through the throng of dancers. The guy was gone. “Morgan, do you see him?”

“No, I’ve got the back. I’m sending Shannon up front.”

“I’ll meet you.” Hotchner pushed his way through the dancers once more. “Reid, go to the front and cover Officer Shannon.” He frowned. “Reid? Spencer, answer me.”

“Please let me go.” Reid’s voice was mostly calm but a hint of fear threaded through it. “Why are you taking me through the back?”

“Morgan!” Hotchner stopped caring about the people he was pushing and shoving out of the way. He snarled, heaving people left and right, fighting to get to the back door. He burst through it, followed seconds later by Morgan. Guns drawn, they fanned out through the alley. Guns snapped to the left where Reid stood as a human shield. Behind him, the menacing construction worker held a gun to Reid’s head. The man managed to completely hide himself behind Reid despite their difference in size. Neither agent had a clear shot. “Let him go.”

“No.” The nameless man yanked Reid even closer. “Get rid of the guns, go back into the club.”

“No.” Hotchner moved, trying to get into a better position. “You let him go first.”

The guy snorted. “Yeah, right. Like hell. I’m gettin’ out of here and he’s comin’ with me.”

Hotchner growled as the guy crassly groped Reid. He vaguely sensed the rest of his team entering the alleyway.

“Me and him are gonna have a great time together.”

Hotchner snarled, mentally raging. This was not their serial killer. He didn’t know who this man was, but he was not the one rampaging though DC murdering gay couples. From his words, his actions, it sounded as if he had been cruising the club for his next rape victim. Men were less likely to report incidents of rapes than women; gay men even less. Not surprising, therefore, to have a serial rapist operating in the DC gay community. “Not a chance in hell.”

The guy grinned nastily. “I think so. You can’t hit me without hittin’ him.”

It was the truth. They all knew it.

“Looks like we’ve got a standoff, then.” Morgan barked, hiking up his gun to level it at the hostage taker.

“Not if I kill you first.” The gun was aimed at Hotchner.

“No!” Reid screamed.

Hotchner jumped out of the way. Morgan and the rest of the team dodged in the opposite direction. The bastard kept shooting. They kept evading the bullets. A horrified scream rent the air. They all turned back to see flames erupting around Reid and his captor. Hotchner stared in horrified fascination as the wall of fire completely surrounded them. The would-be rapist was yelling obscenities and pleas for help. Reid was oddly quiet.

“Spencer?” Hotchner tried to get closer but couldn’t, the intense heat kept him away. His jaw dropped as Reid walked through the wall of flames. The young man was unscathed and seemingly unaffected by the fire that surrounded him. He walked right into Hotchner’s arms. Only then could he feel the minute shivers that racked Reid’s slender body.

“Tell Morgan to be ready with his cuffs,” drifted up from where Reid had buried his face in Hotchner’s neck.

He repeated the order, making certain that Morgan and Prentiss were positioned to grab the guy. “Ready, Spencer.”

Reid lifted his head to stare at the fire. One hand reached out then closed into a fist. The inferno shrank into a single flame before disappearing.


Chapter Two

Hotchner was able keep his peace throughout the rapist’s arrest, delivering his verbal report to his superiors, and finding out from other members of the task force’s leadership that another team had successfully captured their serial killer. The rapist tried to tell every and all that would listen about Reid being a fire starter, but without a single trace of evidence or collaborating testimony, he had been written off as a dangerous mental case. No one had said anything about what had happened in that alley; it was as if they were all waiting for his cue. Including Reid. Special, special Reid was quieter than a church mouse. Hiding in plain sight and keeping up appearances as if he hadn’t controlled fire. Once all the reports were done, Hotchner stood at the rail in front of his office. His sharp whistle easily caught their attention. “Everyone’s invited to breakfast. My house at nine A.M.”

Unsurprisingly, they all nodded then looked towards Reid, who hid behind a veil of his burnished hair. Hotchner grabbed his stuff, moving to intercept him before the younger man could escape. “Let me give you a ride.”

Reid gave him the big doe-eyed look, complete with parted pink lips and soft hair swinging as he nodded. Hotchner mentally sighed. Reid could have asked him for just about anything in that second and he’d have gladly given it. He placed his hand low on Reid’s back, escorting him out of the building and into his car. The drive back to his house was silent; Hotchner was unwilling to break it until they reached their destination. He wanted to be able to see every nuance in Reid’s face as they talked.

The house was empty and dark when he arrived. Thankfully, there wasn’t a mess in sight. The last time Haley had been angry with him, she had rampaged through the house while he was gone. She hadn’t dared to break any of his family’s antiques but had broken things he had bought for her. He wondered if their closet was void of her things and if the dresser was now half empty. Hotchner felt guilty for thinking those thoughts and for his wish that they were true. He didn’t want to deal with his wife any more. He had been willing to try for his son, but he would be the only reason. Unfortunately, he truly did not think even Jack could fix what was wrong with his parents’ marriage. Nothing short of Haley making a different choice and a time machine.

“Hungry?” Hotchner asked softly, going through the house, turning on lights as he went.

“No. I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

God, so polite it hurt. Hotchner watched as Reid rubbed at his arms and curled around himself. “Cold?”

Reid bit his lip. “Just a little?”

Hotchner smiled softly as he upped the heating then pulled off his coat and draped it around the younger man. “This should help until the house warms up.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. Reid looked up at him with those damn eyes again.

Hotchner was helpless, cupping Reid’s cheeks, smoothing his thumbs over high cheekbones and staring down at him. “Good God, you’re beautiful.”

Pink blossomed under this thumbs, long lashes swept down to hide embarrassed eyes. “Hotch, we’re in your house,” he whispered.

That should have been a tsunami of cold water on his arousal. As it was, it did nothing but remind him that there were comfortable flat surfaces everywhere.

Reid reached up and grabbed his wrists, eyes still downcast. “I. I can’t be the other. . . person.” He sucked in a deep, quiet breath. His voice dropped to a near silent whispered but Hotchner heard him, nevertheless, “No matter how much I want you.”

Hotchner was torn between self-flagellation and elation. He let go of Reid’s face but grabbed his hands, pulling him towards the sofa. “I said we needed to talk.”

“Yes. You said that. At the club. After. After.” Reid blushed and didn’t continue.

Hotchner didn’t understand why he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t be that embarrassed. He had talked about Lila Archer without too much hesitation or difficulty. Why was his kiss with Hotchner so different? He didn’t hate it; he returned it with full passion. With everything he was, he poured into that kiss. Perhaps it affected him more? Meant more? Hotchner hoped so. “Spencer, you’re not the ‘other.’ Haley and I . . . it’s been bad for a while now. It got worse when I came home too early about a month and half ago.”

Reid finally lifted his head, eyes now wide with shock at the implication. Hotchner knew he wouldn’t have to say a thing because the statistics and societal history said it all. “I’m sorry.”

Hotchner nodded. “We’re going through divorce proceedings now.”

“That . . . no chance of reconciliation?”

Hotchner could tell Reid asked that with the best of intentions, no matter what he wanted for himself. Selfless and smart, that was his Reid. “There would have been, if it was the first time.”

“Wow,” Reid whispered. “That’s . . . she actually . . .”

“Yeah. Straw, camel’s back.” He hated to use a cliché but they were clichés for a reason.

“Does that make me the rebound partner?” Reid’s eyes were huge, his hands were already moving. “A rebound relationship is a distraction. It’s a connection to another person that keeps us from having to experience the full extent of the emotional pain of our recent break-up. It’s a misguided attempt to move on with our lives. Many people will jump back into the dating scene because they fear being alone. It’s a quick fix, one in which we can drown out our pain by reveling in the emotional intensity and passion of a new found love.”

Hotchner chuckled, keeping a firm grip on Reid, knowing the younger man might take the laughter the wrong way. It was abundantly clear that Reid was quoting from some relationship source. “No, you are definitely not the rebound. I’m sad that my marriage is ending but I’m not miserable. I only feel relief knowing that we can both do what we really want, have what we really want.”

Reid nodded slowly, pausing to yawn. That was definitely a cue.

“C’mon, it’s late.” Hotchner stood and held out his hands. It would have to be Reid’s decision on this one. If he wanted to come with Hotchner and all that it entailed, or stay here on the couch, unscathed. Relief was overwhelming when Reid slipped his hands into his. He led him upstairs and towards the bedroom. Reid balked at the door. “Nothing tonight,” he assured. “Just sleep.”

Reid bit his lip but nodded, coming into the room. Hotchner saw the way he was eying the bed. It was a speculative look; ambivalent, distrusting almost. For a moment he wondered why Reid was glaring at the bed like that, then the pieces clicked. Thank God for his profiling skills.

“I don’t sleep here,” he clarified softly. “Not since I came home that day. I need to get a new bed.”

Relief replaced tension. Reid smiled at him and came closer. Almost cuddling. It struck Hotchner then that Reid hadn’t minded when he profiled him. Had read him like a book. Haley had always hated it, saying “don’t profile me, Aaron.” With Reid, he had been relieved that Hotchner was able to tell what he was thinking so that he wouldn’t have to voice the uncomfortable question. He smiled to himself, pleased at this revelation. He finished pulling out warm pajamas for Reid. A soft pair of flannel pj bottoms and a long sleeve t-shirt. Both items would keep Reid warm. Along with a blanket and Hotchner. He controlled the wolfish grin that tried to burst forth. He also controlled that damn demon that whispered how much fun it would be to divest Reid of this clothing. That wasn’t happening tonight. Not if he wanted it to happen again. The demon acquiesced in favor of the happening again and again part.

Reid had taken the clothes with a quiet thank you and hurried off to the guest bathroom. To keep Reid from waiting, Hotchner made use of the master bath. He winced at the flowery motif of the room. This room would have to be redone as well. Minutes later he was clad in a pair of pj bottoms and prowling down the hallway. The guest bath was empty and Reid was nowhere to be seen. He found him in Jack’s nursery. “Reid?”

“I’m really bad with children.”

“That’s all right. Not everyone is good with them.” Hotchner wasn’t sure where this was coming from or going to. He ran his mind over this situation but nothing explained why Reid was staring at the nursery, wrapped around himself. There was one thing he could tell him, “But anyone can learn. Especially geniuses.” His tease didn’t engender a reaction. Reid continued to stand and stare.

“You’re a good father,” Reid said unexpectedly.

“Thank you.” Hotchner decided to take a leap and wrapped himself around Reid. The younger man relaxed into his arms but didn’t look at him. When Reid didn’t say any more, Hotchner tightened his arms. “Come to bed.”

Reid nodded, his hair teasing Hotchner’s cheek. The guest bedroom had been equipped with a double bed that barely fit the both of them. Reid made it easier by sliding into Hotchner’s arms and curling completely around him. This would be so effortless to get use to. Hotchner feel asleep with that thought and a smile.


“So, how are we gonna find this guy?” Dean dumped his bag on the floor at the foot of the motel bed. This one was decorated in a red, white, and blue theme. Damn patriotic, Dean thought.

Sam sighed. “Go to sleep, Dean. I’m gonna do some research.”

Dean gave his brother a hard look. Sam looked tired, but not more than usual because these visions were taking their toll, making him look tired all of the time. His long, light brown hair was limp and his hazel eyes no longer shone with enthusiasm. Since that first one that sent them here to DC, Sam had had two more. All about the same guy but all different. He guessed his brother had gotten enough from these visions to start his search. So, Dean nodded and started getting ready for bed, but all the while he watched his baby brother work on his laptop.

Settled on the bed, he still didn’t sleep. He watched and waited. He gave Sam another hour, there to catch him when Sam nodded off and nearly slipped off the chair. He hoisted his taller brother into his arms. “C’mon, Sammy, time for bed.”

“No, I--”

“Nuh uh, kid, it’s bedtime.” Dean got him into bed and his shoes off. The covers he had to wrestle out from underneath Sam’s big body. Finally, he got him covered up. As he stood there, watching his brother sleep, he flashed back to when they were kids and he had to do this all the time. Sam would be slumped over his books or in front of the television and Dean would have to get him into bed. It was easier then, lifting his little brother into his arms. Then the brat had to go and grow taller than Dean by another four inches. But, Sam was still his little brother and it was his job to look after him. Even if the big lug was freaking huge.

Dean smoothed back Sam’s hair, watched him for a few more minutes before shutting down his laptop and climbing into his own bed. Dean lay there, staring up at the ceiling. He knew he’d eventually fall asleep, wasn’t worry about that. Instead, he worried about what having these visions meant for his little brother. All they could do, he knew, was deal with it when it all went to hell.


It really shouldn’t have surprised Morgan that Reid answered Hotchner’s door but it did. It also surprised him to see Reid answering the door in clothes that made him look like he stole his big brother’s clothing. Or his larger lover’s.

“Oh, hi.” Reid was knuckling his eyes and yawning his words.

“Obviously somebody had a late night,” Morgan joked, hoping what he had seen last night at the club was an aberration. Hoping that it was job related and had absolutely nothing to do with Reid answering Hotchner’s door in too big sleepwear. He told himself Hotchner wouldn’t do something like that. He told himself Reid wouldn’t do something like that.

Reid gave him the evil eye and blushed but still let him in. “Hotch’s in the kitchen. I’m getting dressed.”

Morgan huffed laughter as he made his way into the kitchen, resolving not to think about it until he found or saw evidence. He found the female half of their team already there. They were gathered around the table while Hotchner was at the stove. “Morning.”

“Hey, sweetcheeks. Have a seat.” Garcia patted the chair next to her. Her blonde hair shone as brightly as the funky, chunky cat eyes glasses perched on her nose.

“Morning, baby.” He kissed her ample, apple cheek and thanked Prentiss as she handed him a cup of coffee. “You guys see Reid?”

All three women grinned brilliantly.

“He was so cute,” Garcia gushed. Prentiss and JJ both grinned and nodded.

“You three harridans leave him alone,” Hotchner ordered as he dished up enough eggs to feed Godzilla.

“Aww, so sweet.” Garcia smirked. “Protecting your man.”

Hotchner gave her a look but she was completely unrepentant, as only Garcia could be. Morgan watched the interaction with trepidation. None of the others had seen what had gone on in the club. They’d all shown up after, when Plaken, the rapist, was holding Reid hostage. They never saw the way Hotchner had been devouring the kid. They hadn’t seen the way Reid had all but climb up Hotchner’s body during that kiss. They had seen Reid head straight for Hotchner’s arms after walking out of the fire but then again, Reid had done the same thing when they found him after Henkel had held him hostage.

Morgan was seriously worried. He didn’t see or hear Haley or Jack. Reid had answered the door in Hotchner’s clothing. That meant Reid had to have spent the night here. But where was Haley? She would probably have something to say about having an unexpected guest at one in the morning. He wondered if Hotchner told his wife about kissing Reid. And where was Haley with a house full of guests? The doorbell heralded the arrival of Gideon and turned his attention back to what the girls were saying. JJ offered to get it and brought back not only Gideon but also a fully dressed Reid.

“Good morning,” Gideon greeted, heading straight for the coffee.

“Good morning,” Hotchner answered then waved towards the now completely filled table. “Help yourselves, everyone.”

Everyone served themselves breakfast and started eating, china and silverware clicking were the only noise. The silence was both comfortable and uncomfortable. They were smiling and enjoying the food and each other’s presence but they were all tiptoeing around the one subject they all wanted to talk about. And Morgan? He was not going to start this baby off.


“It’s bad enough the city’s filled with feds. Now we have to go to their spawnin’ grounds?” Dean stared at the building with growing horror. It was the FBI headquarters. Suits and dark glasses continuously walked in and out of those doors like a giant clone factory. It freaked him out.

“The guy we’re looking for is a federal agent. This is where they are.” Sam explained in a tone that Dean knew meant his brother was losing his patience.

“How do you know he’s a fed?” He leaned forward, trying to tell one agent from another. Half of the time he couldn’t even tell if the agent clone was male or female. And that was a damn shame.

“In all of my dreams he’s wearing a badge and a gun.”

“How’d you rule out regular cops?”

“If he’s one of the kids, he’s way too young not to wear a uniform. He’s gotta be special enough to be recruited by the federal government.”

Say what he wanted, but Sam’s logic was flawless. His timing on the other hand. “I’m starving. We couldn’t wait until after breakfast?”

Sam groaned and glared. “Dean.”

“No, really, I’m starving. My stomach’s eatin’ itself.”


He could hear his brother rolling his eyes. “You keep watch, I’m gonna go get food.”

Sam grunted.

Dean took it as consent and took off. It was only slightly annoying, how his little brother was so damn focused on meeting this other kid. Sam didn’t know why, he just knew that being friends with the Human Torch was a serious priority on the to-do list. Ah, well, he would leave the friending to Sam while he kept both of them fed and in fighting form.


“After Henkel kidnapped me, I started feeling strange.” Reid refused to look up from his plate, but he was determined to get this out now. His team needed to know and he felt bad enough keeping information about his mother from them, he didn’t think he could lie to them about this, too. “I started dreaming about fire. About controlling it. Pretty soon I was lighting candles and manipulating the flames.” He paused, waiting to see if anyone had any questions. When no one said anything, he continued. “I don’t know how I can do this, I just can.”

He stopped talking and concentrated fully on his food. He didn’t have the nerve to look up at them. He was pretty sure they were having whole conversations over and around his head. He didn’t mention the morphine addiction, didn’t think it was worth mentioning. After all, it was so short lived, it never got a chance to affect his work. Not really.

“That is so awesome!”

His head jerked up at Garcia’s outburst.

Her hands were making flappy motions, eyes wide and bright and staring right at him. “Show us!”

Reid’s mouth dropped opened.

“Garcia,” Gideon drawled. “He’s not a performing monkey.”

She instantly deflated, hands in her lap, eyes downcast. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“We know you didn’t, baby.” Morgan was glaring Gideon but Gideon didn’t notice because he was too busy studying Reid.

“Spencer,” Gideon reached out, curling his hand around his wrist, “tell me exactly how you can control the fire.”

Even with his encyclopedic knowledge, Reid couldn’t find the words to answer his mentor’s questions. Instead, he laid the hand Gideon wasn’t holding palm up on the table. With a simple wish for a small ball of fire, it appeared in the palm of his hand.

Garcia squeaked, hands doing their flappy thing again.

Prentiss breathed, “Oh my God.” Her dark eyes were glued to the fireball; her head was tilting this way and that, shiny dark hair sliding with the movement. Like she was trying to figure out how this was happening through the sheer power of observation.

“Holy shit.” Morgan stared, eyes going between the fireball and Reid. His lips twitched. “Well, at least you won’t need the whistle.”

Reid rolled his eyes, remembering when he had failed his gun qualification and Morgan had teased him with the stupid toy. He played with the fireball, letting the flames run over the backs of his fingers like a quarter, as he remembered all of the time Hotchner spent with him before and after his shooting of the long distance sniper/serial killer, Dowd. Despite his frustration with his inability to accurately shoot a gun, he had immensely enjoyed all of his boss’ attention. It was one of the few times they had spent together, alone, without the distraction of others. Just like earlier this morning. His cheeks still burned at the memory of waking up in Hotchner’s arms, curled around his big, warm body.

He still couldn’t quite process everything that was happening between the two of them. He had always been attracted to Hotchner, first by dark good looks, then by the man himself. Hotchner was so very self-contained, so self-controlled that Reid always felt safe with him. He wasn’t like Reid’s father, who couldn’t handle pressure; Hotchner thrived under even the threat of death. He wasn’t like Reid’s mother, whose illness left her out of control; Hotchner was everything controlled. Even his sexual urges were kept in check, letting Reid relax, letting him accept and take things at his own pace. It helped tremendously. It boded well for them and it made Reid happy.

“I don’t know how I do it,” Reid answered Gideon’s earlier question as he continued to play with the flames, enlarging then shrinking them. “I wish it into being; I direct it with my mind.”

“Wow, you really can kill with your brain.” JJ’s quip startled a bubble of laughter out of him. She winked at him; he smiled back. Falling in love with JJ would have been so very easy, with her all American blonde hair, blue eyed good looks. But he was pathetically grateful for her friendship instead; she made him laugh, she cared for him like a big sister. Like Morgan, the tormenting but protective older brother.

“Does it hurt, Spencer? Have you noticed any drawbacks to using it?”

Reid nibbled his lip, shaking his head at Hotchner’s question. He couldn’t quite meet the other man’s eyes, still embarrassed by his reactions to waking up with him this morning. He had woken up with an erection, rubbing it into the groove of Hotchner’s hip. Horrified upon fully wakening, he had elbowed and kneed Hotchner with his eagerness to get out of the humiliating situation. Thankfully, Hotchner had simply gathered him close, letting Reid feel his gentle smile in their kiss. But it was still embarrassing as hell.

“Do you want help stopping this?” Gideon asked, but the look on his face already knew Reid’s answer. After all, a father, even a pseudo one, knew his son.

Reid didn’t say anything, letting the silence hang over the table. He fought with himself: did he want to admit it? Admit the weakness that the fire had driven out? “No,” he finally answered definitively. “It hasn’t hurt me; I can control it so it doesn’t hurt anyone else.” He laughed weakly. “And since I still can’t use a gun correctly . . .”

Little laughs, relieved smiles, and encouraging grins settled his nerves.


They sat in the Impala nearly all day. A little after lunch, Sam spotted him. He shot out of the car and across the street. He heard Dean get out of the car but he didn’t feel his brother behind him as he crossed the street. Probably thought it would be best not to overwhelm the guy with both of their presences. Thankfully, the other man was walking slowly, lost in thought, giving Sam time to catch up. But before he could catch up with him though, shouting made both of them stop.


Sam kept walking, passing the guy he now knew was named some combination of Spencer and Reid. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw two blondes and a black guy catching up with him. The other man smiled as he waited for them. With that many people, there was no way he could approach the other guy. He watched as the three newcomers fussed and fretted over his target. He wondered what that was all about but rejoined Dean in the car.

“We’ll wait for him at his place.”

“You got his name?” Dean started up the car and pulled out into traffic, heading towards their motel.

“Yeah, his friends were yelling it.”

They were silent on the ride back. Dean turned on the television as soon as they got into the room, leaving Sam to his laptop and more research. This time, he had a possible name to go along with the occupation. It took him only a couple of tries to find out that the guy’s name was Spencer Reid, PhD and profiler. He searched the web and found news stories regarding the young FBI agent. He was also able to find Reid’s current address. A few hours later, he and Dean were parked in front of that address, waiting for Reid to come home.

Sam jumped when Dean hit him.

“Ain’t that our boy?”

Sam nodded, starting to get out of the car but caught Dean before he could get out. “Let me do the talking and try to look harmless.”

Dean snorted.

Sam rolled his eyes and got out of the car in time catch Reid before he went up the steps. “Agent Reid?”

The other man stopped and turned around but didn’t go for his gun. Sam reflected on how different Reid was from him and his brother; they would have gone for their guns the second somebody they didn’t know called their names. Especially so late at night. Instead, Reid was calmly waiting for him at the top of the steps. His hands, Sam noticed, were relaxed, by his sides. Remembering his fiery dreams, Sam figured, Reid didn’t need his gun.


“Agent Reid, my name is Sam. That’s my brother Dean.” He hitched a thumb in Dean’s direction. “I’d like to talk to you.”

Reid waited without saying anything. It didn’t look like he was going to give Sam an inch.

“Have you noticed anything . . . new? Anything unusual happening?” Okay, so, that was really kind of vague. But really? Asking a man, who studied the hard sciences like math, physics, and engineering, to believe in the supernatural was always a crap shoot.

“I’m sorry,” Reid answer, inching closer to his building’s door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam could see it: Reid was going to bolt as fast as his gangly legs could carry him. “You’re a pyrokinetic.” He watched as emotions cascaded over Reid’s face: shock, suspicion, interest. He’d known he would get the profiler with that last one. “It manifested a while ago, right?”

Reid nodded slowly, hands twisting, clutching, the strap of his messenger bag. His eyes darted to Dean to find him still leaning nonchalantly against the Impala. The other man wanted to know more but was clearly wary of them. Sam figured it had to do with being kidnapped and tortured by the serial killer, Hankel.

“Do you want to know why all of a sudden you’ve got this power?” Sam could practically felt the battle Reid fought with himself. “Look,” he wanted to make this as easy as possible, instincts screaming that he needed the trust of this man, “why don’t we go to the diner and talk?”

The diner was to their left, filled enough to give Reid a sense of security but empty enough for a modicum of privacy.

“Food, hell yeah!”

Leave it to Dean to focus on the really important issues. Sam rolled his eyes. But his brother’s exclamation and Sam’s suggestion worked wonders for Reid’s comfort levels. So did Sam following Dean to the diner, only glancing back every once in a while to make sure Reid followed them. Once in the diner, Sam pulled up a chair to the end of the booth. He left it for Reid, giving him the easiest-to-escape-from position at the table. He slid in opposite from his brother. His actions further engendered Reid’s trust, he could see it in the other man’s minutely more relaxed body language. They waited for the waitress to take their orders before trying to start this conversation.

“Why?” Reid asked finally, studying one then the other brother, picking up the thread of conversation for the first time.

“A demon wants your soul.”

Oh yeah, leave it to Dean. Sam kicked him.


Sam glared at him, hoping Dean wouldn’t add any more of his too informative tidbits. He cleared his throat, turning his attention back to a wide-eyed Reid. “Twenty-two years ago, a demon spilled his blood on several six month old babies. The blood marked them, gave them powers.”

“But?” Reid prompted.

It didn’t surprise Sam because the guy was a profiler. “But it also attracts trouble, tragedy, to our lives.”

That was true for the most of the children they’d met. Ava had been the only exception, but with her fiancé’s death and her disappearance, it now held true for them all. They fell silent again as the waitress set down their orders. Dean immediately dug in. Sam went through the motions of preparing his burger and fries, giving Reid the time to absorb the information.

“Why?” Reid repeated. “Why would a demon do that? Why me?”

“We don’t know why,” Sam answered honestly. “We only know it’s happening.”

“And how do you know that?” Reid picked at his meatloaf and mashed potatoes – comfort food.

Sam glanced at Dean, who shrugged, leaving it up to him. “I’m one of the kids, too. And we’ve been hunting the demon.”

Reid nodded like he’d just said the sky was blue.

“He killed our parents and my fiancée,” Sam felt compelled to add.

That froze the FBI profiler. “Are my family and friends in danger?”

Sam consulted with his brother again; a whole conversation in a meeting of eyes.

“Yeah,” Dean answered for them both. “Yeah, he’ll go after them.”

“Is there anything that will protect them?” Reid was surprisingly calm and logical about this. Sam felt the need to point that out. The other man simply shrugged. “There’s no logical, scientific explanation for my abilities.” He stared out of the diner window. “You seem to know what to do. Hysterics won’t help. I can’t lose my mom or my friends.”

Sam and Dean both nodded slowly, completely understanding how the other young man felt.

“So, your mom’s in Vegas, right?”

It was obvious Dean surprised Reid with the question. “Yeah,” he answered, wary again.

Dean’s head bobbed as he thought.

“Bobby and Ellen?” Sam offered, knowing Dean would not want them splitting up, even to protect a helpless psychiatric patient.

“Yeah.” Dean relaxed at an option he liked.

“Friends of ours,” Sam explained to Reid. “They can set protection sigils on and around your mom.”

“I’ll tell the doctors to expect them,” Reid offered in return.

“Yeah, that’ll help.” Sam started in on his burger as Reid and Dean made their calls. Dinner passed quietly after that, Reid asking them the occasional question regarding the hunting of supernatural threats. Sam got the impression Reid wanted to ask a whole lot more -- a scientist, a profiler -- would. But he restrained himself for some reason. Maybe he wasn’t comfortable enough yet. Sam knew they were going to have to get comfortable with each other, whether they liked it or not. His prophet’s dreams, his hunter’s instincts, they both screamed at him that Reid was important to his and Dean’s futures.

“You’re taking this really well,” Sam was compelled to comment. “Finding out that the things that go bump in the night are real.” They were surprised by the whimsical smile Reid bestowed on them.

“Halloween’s always been my favorite holiday.”

“Right on!” Dean held out a fist, obviously wanting Reid to punch his knuckles. Sam hid his smile when Reid simply looked at him curiously. Dean rolled his eyes, murmuring something like “nerd” as he dropped his hand , including Sam in that pseudo-insult with a smirk.


Chapter Three

Hotchner grinned at the young man on the other side of his door. “Reid.”

“Hi. Uhm, could I come in?”

Hotchner held open the door, sweeping Reid in. They hadn’t had a private moment together since this morning and Hotchner was alternatively anxious and anticipating when it came to seeing Reid again. It would seem Reid was as well. His elegant hands couldn’t stay still, fiddling with his messenger bag, sweeping his hair behind his ears, and plucking at the hem of his sweater. But Reid never stopped staring at Hotchner’s mouth. He smiled, watching Reid watch the movement of his lips. “Hi.”

“Uhm, hi.”

Hotchner idly wondered if kissing Reid would make the situation better or worse. “Hungry?”

“Uhm, no. I just ate, actually.” Reid’s hands were fluttering even more now, as if the mention of food brought more agitation.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” He moved closer to the younger man, crowding into his personal space. Just as he expected, Reid calmed, moving closer as well. “Spencer?”

“Two men were waiting for me at home,” he confessed.

“What?” Hotchner ran gentle but hurried hands over Reid’s body, eyes carefully studying him. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

Reid shook his head, hair coming out from behind his ears to caress his jaw line.

Hotchner took advantage of their closeness, fingering that hair before cupping Reid’s smooth cheek. “Who were they? What did they want?”

Reid nuzzled into his hand, his own hands coming up and fluttering against Hotchner’s t-shirt before landing softly against his chest. “Sam and Dean Winchester. They knew about my pyrokinesis.”

“What did they say? Did they want something?” Hotchner brought his other hand up, pulling off the messenger bag that was the only thing separating them. Once it was on the floor, he wrapped his arm around Reid, bringing them body to body. Reid shivered but melted against him, showing him trust and want with that simple action.

Reid clutched at him, eyes never leaving his as he explained their conversation, explained about the demon, and what it wanted. Explained how the Winchesters were sending someone to protect his mother and how he was worried about everyone else on the team.

“Spencer, breathe.” Hotchner watched as Reid did as ordered, calming once more. Demons, good God. Hotchner thought their plates were full with just human monsters, now demons were after them too? He wished he could just dismiss this out of hand, but Reid was controlling fire, calling it up out of thin air. He couldn’t dismiss this, not until they knew what they were up against. “I’ll call Morgan and tell him to call everyone else. What did the Winchesters say about how to protect ourselves?”

Reid shook his head, eyes wide. “I can call them. Sam gave me his number.”

Hotchner nodded but didn’t let him go when he tried to reach for his bag. Reid settled back into his arms as if he wasn’t inclined to leave them in the first place. “Do you trust them?” Hotchner felt it was only right to ask the question in the face of everything that had happened. It made him feel immeasurably better that Reid didn’t answer right away; the other man’s brow was furrowed with thought. Eventually, he nodded.

“From their body language and word choice, I think it would be a mistake not to trust them.”

Hotchner mimicked Reid’s nod but was compelled to add, “I want to run a check on them anyway.”

Reid smiled at him, the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that conveyed his knowledge that Hotchner would do so regardless of whichever way he had answered. But that would have to wait until tomorrow. “Would you like to stay here tonight?”

Reid stared at him; Hotchner was afraid he had overstepped his bounds, was going too fast for the other man. But Reid nodded shyly, sighing as if a heavy burden had been lifted from him as he dropped his head on Hotchner’s shoulder. He guided him upstairs and into the bedroom they had shared the night before. It didn’t surprise Hotchner one bit that Reid stopped at the doorway and stared at the bed. He wrapped himself around Reid, propping his chin on a sweater vest-covered shoulder. “Spencer--”

“I want to know,” he whispered, turning in Hotchner’s arms. Graceful fingers slid up his jaw to cup his face. Reid stared up at him with those eyes. “I want to know what it’s like . . . but only with you.”

With those soft words, with those begging eyes, Hotchner knew exactly what Reid was telling him. He would be the slow and attentive teacher; Reid, the novice who needed to be coaxed and seduced. Hotchner firmly admonished the urges demanding to take what was theirs hard and fast. Hard and fast would definitely have to wait. He took Reid’s clothes off, piece at a time, letting Reid do the same to his. Hotchner ran his hands up a smooth, slim back, relishing the erotic rub of Reid’s body against his own.

Reid’s breath was hitching, hands clutching his shoulders, hips unconsciously moving, sliding his pretty, pretty cock against Hotchner’s. It was making Hotchner a little insane. Time turned syrup slow then; a blur of hands and mouths, exploring each other, encouraging one another. Every innocent touch from Reid spurred him on, made him want to lose control, to let go of the reins on his demons and take what was his right. But those eyes, trust shining in their hazel depths, stopped him, helped him hold his desires at bay. Made it easier to savor, to enjoy, his new lover.

He enjoyed the way Reid spread his legs, encouraging Hotchner into the cradle of long thighs. He loved the way Reid stared at him in open mouth astonishment when he took his cock into his mouth. Savored the little movements of Reid’s hips, enticing him to do more, to take more. Hotchner obliged, coating his fingers with the silky lubricant. He bit his lip and grabbed his cock to stop himself from coming at the sight of Reid wantonly riding his fingers. When he couldn’t watch a moment longer, he lined up his cock at Reid’s opening, inching his way inside the sweetest body he had ever known. Hotchner’s groan rumbled from the depths of his body. The heat encasing his cock sent sensation ricocheting through his entire being. “Spencer--”

“You feel, oh God.” His lover cooed, wrapping long legs around his hips, seating Hotchner even more fully inside.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed. The damn demons demanded harder, faster, now. He ruthlessly yanked on their chains even as he slowly, reluctantly, dragged himself back out of Reid’s mind-blowing body.

“Aaron, take me.” Reid’s whisper into his ear was his undoing.


“Think he believed us?” Dean asked as he sacked out on his chosen bed.

“Yeah.” Sam booted up his laptop.

“Still don’t know why we need him to believe us?”

“Nope.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sam watched as his brother settled into bed for the night. He didn’t mimic Dean, not even really thinking about going to bed even though he was tired as hell. He planned to work on his laptop, hunting down everything he could about the Yellow Eyed Demon, until he fell asleep at this table. But he knew when he woke up, he would be tucked into his bed. Dean took care of him. He always did.


Hotchner smiled down at Reid, still buried amongst the pillows and blankets of their bed. All he could see was the long, elegant arm that had been draped across his chest when he woke that morning. He flicked the end of the sheet off Reid’s head, leaning over to nuzzle a soft cheek before heading downstairs. Breakfast was definitely in order.

He frowned when he took in his bare pantry and refrigerator. Sighing, he headed back upstairs to get dress so he could go hunt down some food for them both. He left notes for Reid, one taped to the lamp next to the bed and another on his cell phone, just in case, not wanting the younger man to think he’d been abandoned. It took only minutes to go down to the tiny corner market that was owned by one of his neighbors. “Good morning, Mr. Hadley.”

“Aaron.” The snow white haired man was old enough to retire but was too spry to, shook his hand and grinned. “You’re lookin’ good, my boy.” Mr. Hadley wiggled his brows. “Have something to do with that nice lookin’ young man who’s been comin’ around?”

“Maybe.” Hotchner grinned and rolled his eyes even as Mr. Hadley chuckled in delight. He knew that, within a matter of hours, everyone in the neighborhood would know about him and Reid. Mr. Hadley and his wife were notorious gossips and voyeurs. They always knew what was going on in the neighborhood. They were the ones who had clued him in on Haley’s extramarital activities; disapproving of her cheating on him while he was away “catching the bad guys” as Mrs. Hadley had said.

Shopping for breakfast took him all of fifteen minutes. The Hadleys had a little of everything, making them ideal for when you only need a few things and didn’t want to run all the way down to the bigger chain markets. He waved goodbye to Mr. Hadley after being rung up. He had only been gone thirty minutes and hoped that Reid wasn’t awake yet. The food-filled bags dropped to the floor the minute Hotchner stepped through his front door.

Scorch marks marred the wall where the staircase went upstairs. Parts of the banister bore the marks of flames. Some of them were still smoking. Not for one second did Hotchner think Reid’s powers were out of control. Something had happened for Reid to use his powers in his home.



Dean jerked awake, instantly turning to the bed next to his. It was empty. He jerked to his feet, grabbing his gun from under his pillow. The keys to the Impala were still on the nightstand. He didn’t bother with shoes as he grabbed them and his phone. He pushed the speed dial for his brother but the answering ring was on the table next to Sam’s laptop. Sam never went anywhere without his phone. He hit the other preprogrammed number.


“Bobby, it’s Dean. Something’s happen to Sam.”


Section Two

on 2009-05-21 05:40 pm (UTC)
decarnin: Hotch and Reid (Default)
Posted by [personal profile] decarnin
Hi! Thanks for giving me this URL for this story, it'll help a lot! So far I have only just started it, but looking forward to reading the whole thing!

xxx, Mog Decarnin

on 2009-06-11 11:57 am (UTC)
decarnin: (Mandala)
Posted by [personal profile] decarnin
*...hands grabbing onto the wrists anchoring him to this plane of existence. *

Yes indeedy!

It's taken me a long time to get online with time enough to read, but here I am at long last. This is a very interesting idea. I don't watch Supernatural, but you can't be in fandom without knowing the basics of the show so I'm having no trouble following the story, especially since you aren't getting all esoteric with the SPNisms. (Not that I have anything against it, I don't watch because the show is just too scary for me; I don't do scary.)

Anyway I'm enjoying the timid supernatural Reid! The image of him lighting candles by (so to speak) hand was really beautiful. And now you've left a cliffhanger,right where it started, with fire! But I had to stop and say hi and thank you for showing me the best place to read the story before hurrying on. Mmmm, Hotch/Reid, mmmmmm.

I don't know where to put this nonfic note, so I'm attaching it here since I just learned how to do this on DW: If you want to change your text color to be darker (which for me makes it a LOT easier to read, donno why light gray was their default choice!), here's how: Click on Customize Style, scroll down; under Customize Your Theme, click on Style; scroll down again (sigh), under Colors, click on "Entry". Delete the number in the box by Entry Text Color and enter "#000000" instead (six zeroes). (This is not the same as Page Text Color, which is in the first set of color boxes you'll see, already open.) When done, scroll up or down to click on "Save Changes". This will make the text "black", though it could still be darker, IMHO.

Pass it on! I'm thrilled I finally figured it out. Er, the REST of my colors still need work, kinda got away from me there, but at least my text is black!

On to Section Two of O&H! If I don't finish today, I'll see you next time.

February 2014


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