Chapter Text
—
Dave has the audacity to call what follows 'nesting', on numerous occasions, until Hotch threatens to lock him out of the apartment in reprimand.
For the first ten days, the worst of the Change occurs; the Human body that was once dead becomes entangled in a push and pull of wanting to live like it had done so previously for its entire existence, and staying dead which has now become its natural state. To 'live' once more, it cannot continue like it had when it was Mortal, for living as a Vampire is an entirely different state of being. It is stasis; it is becoming a fixed point in the ever drastically changing world. Never altered. Even the dead decay, are still one with the Earth and it's sweet ballad of time. But a Vampire never will.
The Vampire mutation must take root in the newly Turned's body. It cannot revert into what it was before, alive and Mortal, but it can stay in what it wants to be now – dead. Or it can Change; and become something new. The easiest way to wrap one's head around it is instead of looking back, or staying put, it must look forward instead. Towards an endless future, all the days and years and eons to come in the vast expanse of time, and everything those days can hold for them.
Towards possibility.
The push of Change and pull of Mortality is a battle not easily won. There's not much comfort that can be offered save for time, quiet, blood, and a strong hand to hold; like any illness that must be waited out instead of aided through medicine. Aaron has seen it all his life, until modern medicine came and dropped a miracle on the world, but there's nothing modern that can help Spencer now. So he takes him home, to their home; his apartment that still has Spencer's cardigan strewn across the floor from the last time he'd come down the hallway. "I'm taking a shower – and you should join me'. His shoes by the door, his badge and messenger bag on the side table in the foyer. It's not until they both return home that they find two copies of Spencer's credentials. Foyet had left Spencer's badge, the one he had taken, a message no one had deciphered until long after that monster died.
But Aaron refuses to let what happened there taint what was supposed to be their first night coming home. To their home. Spencer had agreed to move in with him, then. Now, he wouldn't be leaving the apartment for the next several weeks. He'd barely leave the bed for days.
The chills and fever alternate in rapid succession. Aaron piles blankets on the bed and lets Spencer use or kick them off at his leisure. Brings him whatever the young doctor thinks he needs. Although his body technically doesn't need anything but Aaron's blood to soothe the process, it doesn't stop the cravings from coming. He thinks he needs water, or food, or tylenol, or sugar, or a shower or ice or sleep –
Oh, sleep.
Sleep is a dangerous game. For now, Spencer does sleep, ad nauseum, and he should to save himself the intensity of the Change – for it will be the last time he is ever able to do so. Once the Change takes hold, he won't need to sleep anymore, therefore Aaron wants him to get as much as he can while he can. There's just always the ever present, terrifying chance that Spencer won't wake up when he does. It leaves Aaron nervous beyond measure, and he always stays there with Spencer when he slumbers. Holds him through it more often than not, so he can feel his Undead heart still beating and his body still trying to breathe though it has no need to. It would soon learn that, as well.
The first three days are nerve wracking, and Aaron doesn't answer either of their phones as Spencer sleeps and feeds and heals as his body keeps trying to die. By day five Spencer looks more like someone who is trying to survive a terrible illness, still fighting for his life, but fighting all the same. Dave and Emily are the only ones that can visit, for now, bringing Aaron fresh blood beyond what is regulated and news on how things are progressing outside of their apartment. (Which is when the 'nesting' jokes commence, Dave insists it fits, “he's a fledgling, so of course you're nesting!” to which Aaron always just tells him to get out). JJ is getting all of their paperwork and Spencer's registrations taken care of. Garcia is also doing some fancy footwork, so to speak, on getting Spencer out of his lease and his things moved over to Aaron's apartment. Morgan is acting as temporary team leader and Unit Chief, with help from literally everyone else because it is a big job and no one realized how much of their paperwork Hotch did for them so they could go home earlier at the end of the day. They've even called in temporary agents from other paranormal agencies to help in their caseload, although no one has filled the spots yet. They are some big shoes to fill, after all.
But the BAU can press on without them, as Father Rossi had told Hotch all those months ago at the bus massacre in Boston. If he isn't there to run things, then the one thing he can trust is someone else will step in and get the job done. This time with a less hostile intent behind the assurance. Aaron can take care of Spencer, of his mate, see to it that their young genius gets all the support he needs while his body attempts to do the impossible – and neither of them will have to worry about the BAU holding itself together without them there. Spencer has enough energy at one point to laugh that the Priest is trying to tell them they are replaceable – which just makes the old man smile ruefully.
"No, not one person on our team is replaceable. But you don't need to worry about getting back to work more than getting back on your feet. Just get better, kid," he tells him with a gentle touch to the shoulder and another to Aaron's. "We can hold our own, just not forever. It doesn't feel like home without you both there."
He can see how worn down they are. Even Aaron, who doesn't need to rest or sleep, looks haggard with worry and Spencer looks like a shadow of himself. He's back under the covers of their bed before Father Rossi can even announce he should take his leave. Pale skinned and raccoon circles around his eyes, familiar features more prominent than ever; everyone on the team has made fun of him for one or the other when he had been living, but Dave had never seen him to this extent. Even after a feeding, he never looked this pale. Thin and frail with blood staining the corners of his lips, the cuffs of Aaron's sleeves, there's even some spots on the Ancient Vampire's collar and Dave has to wonder how often he's feeding Spencer just to help him stay alive.
"I'll send Emily with more blood for you this afternoon," Dave tells him, even as Aaron sits on the edge of the bed and runs a hand through Spencer's curls. The other is already asleep, exhausted, twitching with little shivers that hit him like shockwaves. Aaron doesn't answer him, but the silence is one that feels grateful. Which is why he hates to break it for the hard questions. "How is he really doing?"
Aaron's sigh is so shallow, yet radiates a heaviness that could send them all crashing through the floor.
"It's hard to tell," Aaron admits, low and quiet. "If he hadn't been so drained before hand, mauled by those fledglings, he wouldn't have had to use so much energy to heal. It wouldn't be this hard on him."
Father Rossi nods; his hand goes to his own wrist, where his rosary is wrapped tight around it once more. Low hums of prayer in the back of his mind, all meant for the poor soul struggling to live on the bed. "You don't think his body is rejecting it?"
"No," Aaron almost whispers. "No, he takes the blood just fine. Keeps it down, gets bursts of energy from it – there's just still the chance that…" he swallows thickly, the words not wanting to be voiced and put out into the world. "That I was too late." Just because Spencer had survived the first death didn't mean his second wasn't hovering just out of sight.
And no amount of assurance about how strong Spencer is or what a fighter he is, will change that fact. Dave does what he can, in the time allowed, and then shows himself out to let the two lovers wrap themselves back up in that bed and hope Spencer awakens once more.
He's barely out the door and down the apartment hallway when he's pulling out his cell phone.
He has to ring twice to get an answer.
"You have got to stop calling me," Haley Brooks says. It had been a few weeks since Father Rossi had phoned her, always claiming to be 'checking in' on them and having no notion if the priest was reporting back to Hotch or not.
The tone in his voice changes the phone call dramatically.
"Haley," he says gravely, straight-forward and not trying to get anything out of her. This wasn't that type of call, and he can sense how she straightens up a bit at his tone. "Something's happened."
She pauses, swallowing hard and fearing the worst – even if she doesn't exactly know what the worst case scenario would be in this situation. So she exhales softly to settle herself, and the guilt and worry tangle messily in her chest. "Is Aaron okay?"
"No, he's not." Physically, Hotch was still whole, but emotionally he's punctured and bleeding and Dave is worried what will happen if Spencer slips away from them a second time. "He's done something really rash and stupid, all for the sake of love, and it worked – but I'm not sure for how long."
"Love?" Haley sounds winded, her mind churning about what little she knew from the past few months and what she had tried so hard to put out of her mind after she sent Aaron away. But she is a descendent of the Hotchner name, and she is nothing if not sharp and resourceful. And caring, often times to a fault. "... he Turned him, didn't he?" Young Dr. Reid, so young – too young. "What was he thinking?"
"He was trying to save him, and he might still have arrived too late." Dave shakes his head and implores Haley to understand. "Haley, he asked Spencer to be his mate. If he survives this, there's probably going to be a wedding in our future, but I just saw them and…"
Reid frail and shaky, struggling to breathe just for a sense of normalcy, Aaron constantly touching him like it'll be the last chance he gets to do so. They're going through blood bags like they're feeding a clan, when in reality it's just Aaron drinking and Spencer feeding from him. They are hanging on with everything they have, fighting back, and the team is doing all they can to find out if – if there's anything they can do to help.
This is Father Rossi's attempt.
"He needs his family," Dave murmurs low and none too gently. "He found one in this team, but he had also found one with you long before that. He misses you, and Jack, and is too decent a person to ever admit it."
He's arrived at his car, hesitates to get in, lets the chill of the early morning grey settle in and ground him as he plays his last card. Harsh as it may be.
"Aaron said you were afraid of how he is able to avoid death, and life and love in a way mortals can't. I know that with this time apart you've thought on it, and I hope you realize how wrong you are. Aaron knows death like none of us ever will. He also knows how precious life and love are, it's why he keeps it so private and to himself. Because to lose something you love is a terrible thing, especially before you're ready to say goodbye.
"Don't leave him all alone to do it again. I know you've missed him just as much as he's missed you. And Jack… Jack needs his father."
Haley sniffs from where she's leaning against her kitchen counter, nearly hangs up but the words won't leave her be. And the man isn't wrong by any stretch, she just wished he hadn't said it so harshly. Her hand forced in this way.
"You're an absolute bastard sometimes, Father."
"I know, but I'm also right."
She looks up out the window over her kitchen sink, tears bright in her eyes, and nods in agreement.
"Yes. Yes, you are."
—
It's on the 6th day that there's a knock at Aaron's door in the middle of the afternoon. Everyone from the BAU should be at work, and Aaron is wrapped around Spencer in their bed with zero intention of getting up. He's wearing P.T. shorts and nothing else; Spencer was sweating and shaking for most of the morning but it seems to have settled now. He drank his fill of Aaron just before noon, latched onto his neck and curled close, leaning heavily against him with fingers threaded through his dark hair. He looks better now, less pale, still sickly, his fangs haven't fully retracted even hours later. It's all a part of the process, letting the body settle and do what it needs, adjust to the developments and changes as it goes.
The knock is insistent, and Aaron has no idea who would be wanting them at this hour of the day. Golden sunlight pressed tight to the closed blinds on their windows, baking the small apartment as the sun had passed over it's zenith. Their phones are in another room, so Aaron slowly untangles himself from Spencer and finds a shirt to pull on. It's a pale blue button down that thankfully has very little blood on it. Even half out of his mind in exhaustion, Spencer eats very clean for a fledgling. It took Aaron decades to learn how to feed without leaving stained droplets on his clothes.
He doesn't have to grab his phone to know who is at his door, although he has half a mind to check first. From beneath the thin seal of his apartment door he can smell Haley's subtle perfume; honeysuckle and lavenders. He can smell the laundry detergents clinging to Jack's clothes, the dirt and sand stuck in his playground sneakers, dried cherrios in his jacket pockets. Spilled juice on his shirt, crayon shavings under his fingernails. Aaron nearly stops in his tracks as he realizes who is there, and he isn't sure why or how or for what reason – but if Haley brought Jack then it can't be something terrible. It just can't.
He's too fragile to stand for anything else.
Aaron opens the door and barely knows what to say. Wouldn't know how to if he could. Because Haley smiles at him so soft and sorry, can see the state he's in better than almost anyone in the world, and Jack calls him “Dad!” as he rushes forward and hugs him wherever he can reach. Around his waist and thighs, and Aaron still doesn't understand but he reaches down and picks Jack up off the floor, hugs him tight to his chest as the little boy clings to his neck and he – a thousand year old Vampire – closes his eyes and thanks God for bringing him yet another fleeting light that shines so brightly on his life. But God isn't really the one he should be grateful to.
"Thank you," he tells Haley, still not letting go of Jack just as Jack doesn't let go of him. The poor young woman looks like she's about to cry.
"Can we come in?" she asks, watery and careful. Aaron nods, but not before opening one arm up to her, too. Haley barely hesitates, either, and is soon clinging to his other side. Aaron holds the two close and feels the long stretch of his line of blood and kin that led him here, and once again finds himself speechless in the face of it.
"How is he?"
Aaron isn't quite sure how to answer Haley without giving too much away, but his silence seems to say it all.
"That bad?" she murmurs, and Aaron pauses in pouring her the cup of coffee he had offered her to entice her to stay even longer. He's getting the impression now that he didn't have to, Haley seems to have reconsidered her standing in many ways. As Spencer once said, Human hearts are fickle, but Aaron has found they always seem to come right back to center. And he's lucky enough to reside there.
"It's difficult to say," Aaron answers slowly, too tired to stay guarded, and not wanting to hide anything more from Haley in fear of shutting her out. They used to be as openly honest as possible, within reason, and Aaron really doesn't want to discover if they've lost that or not.
"Is somebody sick?" Jack asks, clear yet small. He's gotten so big since the last Aaron had seen him, and there's a level of awareness in his eyes that Aaron realizes is him growing older and seeing more of the world around him. Even as a child. So he nods, and then murmurs in quiet French for Jack to take his hand. So quietly pleased when the boy does, his hand so small in Aaron's own as he leads him down the hall to the bedroom.
Spencer is weak and fragile from the Change, but has shown incredible control and strength, and Aaron knows even if he was awake he would never hurt Jack or Haley. Not even the Vampiric genes binding to his being could change his gentle soul.
They stop just inside the open door, not wanting to disturb the recovering fledgling, but it's enough that Jack can see who is in the bed. They had met before, at the BAU, many times over the years as Haley visited Aaron there at work.
"He showed me magic tricks," Jack says quietly, and Aaron slowly lowers himself to the ground to kneel beside Jack. Becomes eye level with him, and talks to him as he always has – with a grounding and gentleness that speaks across their generations of blood and kin.
"You know what I am, right Jack?"
The little boy nods, looking at his father-figure with so much seriousness Haley hides her smile behind her hand, leaning against the doorframe, and is so somber for the young man inside the room fighting for his life. For Aaron, who obviously loves him and cares for him so. It feels written into the very walls surrounding them.
"You're a Vampire," Jack says, and it feels so strange coming from a four-year-old but Aaron smiles softly. Because the word isn't spoken in fear or reveration. It's said as a matter of fact. Like his hair is brown, or the sky is blue.
"Yes, I am. And Spencer is turning into one, as well. But he's very sick right now." Aaron can't actually bring himself to say that Spencer is struggling, that there's a chance he might not make it, and it's not for Jack to know. One so small. But Haley keeps her hand over her mouth to mask her expression, her eyes warm and wet because she can read it in the set of Aaron's shoulders, the slight tremble of his tone.
Jack hugs Aaron around the neck, then, and Aaron realizes that maybe he isn't hiding what is happening so well at all. Especially when the small boy leans back and pats his cheek with his small hand.
"Don't worry, Dad. Spencer will make it," he says, small and clear just like before. "He's stronger than all of you."
Both Aaron and Haley go still at these words.
"What do you mean, Jack?" Aaron asks, keeping his voice light, but his breathing is so shallow it's nearly ceased.
"He glows white. That's the strongest." Matter-of-fact, a shrug, and Haley's hand is now over her chest instead of her mouth.
"...did someone tell you that, Jack? Your Uncle Derek, maybe?"
"No, I can see it. Look." He points to the bed, as if there will be something to see. But there's nothing there, and Aaron and Haley share a look that is part shock…
And part relief.
For what Jack is coming into, and what his words mean for Spencer. But that little spoken statements sends a small burst of hope through Aaron's chest, and he looks at his descendant – his son – in complete and utter wonder.
"He'll be okay, Dad. We all will be."
Aaron touches his ear softly, ruffles his hair, and smiles so wide it creases the dimples back into his face for the first time in days.
"Yes. I think we just might, mon fils."
—
While the first ten days had been awful, the next ten aren't much better; the turmoil switching from a physical endurance to a mental one. Both Haley and the team stay on constant rotations to help the young Vampire and Hotch as much as possible, bringing food and blood and support as much as they can, but it slowly begins to do little good – as the last traces of Human habits fade from Spencer's days. The first, and most devastating for him, is sleep.
It near drives him mad.
It's not just that he can't sleep, or doesn't need to sleep, it's that the hours when he should have slept and rested are now spent like every other hour of the day. And his brain never stops churning, thinking, reciting, it roils and tumbles through him in circulation patterns like a pot of boiling water. He consumes books and media even faster than before, anything to fill the spaces in his head that crave a thought or an algorithm as much as they crave the sweet, blissful silence of slumber. Of rest. Aaron tries his best to help him here, as well, through distraction or meditation techniques that he's adopted during mortal sleeping hours. But it takes a lot of practice and focus that his hyper-active brain can't condition to so easily – leaving Spencer awake and staring at nothing more often than not throughout the night.
But he thinks of… everything in those coming days.
His body has adjusted to the Vampiric Changes, his mind is still playing catch-up, and his resolve stays true though it feels cracked and shattered and a mere moment away from crumbling to the ground. And he can't help but notice the parallels, the situational awareness that dawns on him, as he compares what is happening to himself to what happened to another BAU team member. Another Mortal Human who was turned into what most would call a monster. How the physical and mental changes for her hadn't gone hand in hand either; in most cases, they never do, they are a reaction to one or the other. But for Elle it had been a mental shift before the physical one, and she had been so convinced she was losing her mind.
Spencer misses her a lot, the days he thinks of her so solidly. Thinks of the two of them, the friendship they had, and the kinship they unknowingly hold now as members of the BAU that succumbed to it in a way no one else has. He had been close with Elle Greenaway, back then, when he was younger and fresh from his third post-doctorate, and she had been small and strong and their secret weapon in ways most couldn't believe. Elle's classification was Human, technically, with physical and cognitive advancements: she was a sharpshooter. And not in the way a well trained Sniper is a sharpshooter, although she could be the most lethal person you've ever met with a gun. But her aim was impeccable with anything: bows and arrows, knives, firearms, even a wadded up piece of paper or a paperclip could be thrown with an accuracy that was beyond uncanny. Morgan had gotten both between the eyes while Elle never looked up from her desk; and he usually deserved it. She was also the first person with abilities on the team that made Morgan want to call them superheroes. She had been the closest to that description; although Hotch with his faster-than-Human speed and strength was a close second. Elle used to jokingly tell him that was cheating.
Then everything changed the day they had a case deep in the wooded forests of Maine, and Elle had encountered a rabid young werewolf, moon-drunk and out of his mind. She shouldn't have survived the attack, was technically dead for over six minutes, but revived all the same and not all in one piece anymore. Not the same Elle Greenaway that would laugh with Spencer and tease him in ways that didn't hurt, that weren't malicious. The drastic side-by-side comparison of before and after was terrible to live through, and somehow worse to look back on. No one knew how to help her, or handle what she was going through. She tried to shake it off and come back to work, like any injury, despite Hotch's insistence that she needed time to readjust to herself. He knows he didn't handle her well, either, but the rift between Vampires and Werewolves is not a prejudicial one – it's a natural one. All instinct. He fought it and did what he could with the time that was given to them; but Elle still slipped away. Further and further into a rage that had settled in her bones; it shook and growled with anger, with resentment, there were days only Spencer could approach and talk to her rationally and days that even that wasn't enough.
Elle left the BAU, a few months before Gideon did, after an incident that no one speaks of or elaborates on. But they know she took the law into her own hands, was becoming dangerous on a level that couldn't be accepted any longer, and Spencer took her loss harder than he ever had with another soul before that. It was his first close friendship in so long, maybe ever, that was ripped out from under him, so violent and messy that he didn't get a say in how he landed. He misses Elle, and her candor, her dry wit, her grounding knowledge and stoic observation that helped him see things not from an intellectual standpoint – but a Human one. She always reminded him that he was Human, and not a robot like so many tease. He is flesh and blood and emotion – and all of that was adaptable. That is the true Human condition: not disease, not time, or death, but adaptability. We always pivot, when the hard punches come, and we keep pressing forward. It's all we know how to do.
Live.
But during these days of his own transformation, the Change clung tight to his bones and his mind still whirling as it processes, he thinks of Elle having to go through the physical changes after the mental had wrecked its havoc. On herself, and on her life. How she must have had to go through something similar to what he did but all by herself; and it makes him so profoundly mournful and sad that Aaron finds Spencer sobbing into his hands at 3:00am and holds him through it. Not knowing how to help, or what ails him, except for the words he can barely manage to speak: that he can't sleep and it's driving him insane.
And he misses Elle.
There are times over the course of those middle weeks that Spencer finds himself as cognizant as he can possibly be with no sleep for four days straight. He takes careful study of his body, how it's changed and how it reacts at present, attempting to wrap his head around the more physically grounded aspects of himself now that everything has changed. But even that simple observation still leads to how everything else about his life and relationships will be changing as well.
On the 12th night, these are the thoughts that stay front and center with him. Specifically how his and Aaron's relationship will be changing now. Aaron loves him, and says it with the ease of a wistful sigh, reminds him of it like every time will be the last time – his faith only momentarily restored now that Spencer has gained his strength back. They haven't spoken yet about how Spencer agreed to be his mate, essentially to marry him without those exact words or proposal being said, and spend the rest of eternity together. It's hard when eternity is yet to be a guarantee. Spencer also has gotten the impression Aaron still wants to propose properly; and that thought is all that brings a smile to his face when his spiraling thoughts get low. Because eternity? Marriage? That's not what worries him, there's no problem in this thought of spending forever with Aaron – in a way, that's all he's ever wanted.
No, the problems in that their entire relationship was built on Spencer being alive, and their sex life was practically centered around it. Aaron would feed from him, taste his arousal and his passion and his love – would use it to kick start the kindlings of his own, so they could catch up and careen toward blissful pleasure together. The feeding itself kept it so they shared the same chemical reactions, arrived at the same points of arousal; he knows logically a Vampire body can create the same reactions, but nowhere near as fast as a Human. The unknown variables are what worry Spencer. He worries about how things will proceed now.
If he's still going to be what Aaron wants.
"Spencer."
The young fledgling turns to him, unsurprised. He'd heard Aaron coming. He had heard him get up from the other room across the apartment. He can hear everything now. The birds outside the windows, the cars down on the street, the cars on all the streets – especially on the freeway three blocks over. Everything is loud, and so much, and he feels numb with the assault of it all.
So numb he doesn't acknowledge Aaron, gets lost in his head again. In the noise. Doesn't hear him come up and wrap strong arms around his waist and chest and arms, confining and weighted and just what he needs. Aaron always somehow knows exactly what he needs.
He used to be able to do the same for Aaron. But now all Spencer can hear is the noise, and it's never ending.
"What's going on in there," Aaron rumbles soothingly, nuzzling the curls by his ear, kissing the side of his face and giving Spencer the time he needs to process. Put his thoughts in order. "Let some of it out, it'll release the pressure." He says it like a joke, but there's sincerity behind it that he backs whole-heartedly as he refuses to let go of Spencer for anything. Especially with the younger man melting into his arms like it's the only thing holding him up.
"The world seems so small now," Spencer murmurs, leaning back against Aaron and feeling that slow heartbeat there in his chest. "Everything is too tightly packed. It's like seeing for the first time through a pair of prescription glasses. Suddenly it's all so clear. I can't decide if I was missing out on the world, or if being Mortal allowed me the bliss of not having to notice." It feels contrite, even the words are heavy on his tongue, but he's also aware that he's mourning the loss of his Mortal life in steps and stages all out of order with the process of grief. "I was so ordinary," Spencer murmurs, with a sigh just this side of wistful. Was it pity? Was it longing? He couldn't even tell anymore. He can't understand it.
By the small smile Aaron presses into his shoulder, kissing whatever skin he can find, the older Vampire – his Sire – seems to understand perfectly.
"You were anything but ordinary."
This startles Spencer, he really can't explain why, but it's enough he tilts his head back and looks at Aaron in question. A soft, beautiful smile is what greets him; dimples and straight teeth with no fangs in sight. Spencer only just learned how to retract his own after a feeding. It took him a whole week to master it intentionally.
"I had wanted to Change you, before we became us," Aaron confides, brushing some wayward strands of hair out of Spencer's eyes. Still honeyed hazel, flickers of red like a candle flame appearing every now and then. As unpredictable as the wind. "I always knew that you were too extraordinary to lose. But then, after we fell like we did, I knew that my motive had changed. My heart wouldn't be able to bear it – losing you. Living without you."
"You thought I was extraordinary? As a Human?" Spencer asks, so quiet it's near a whisper.
"I thought you were absolutely perfect. Just the way you were."
And there in lies the problem. The thing that has been keeping Spencer up all night. Aaron had loved him so much when he was alive…
"... and now? What am I now?"
"Mine. As I am yours. If you'll have me." Aaron murmurs the words softly, yet somehow doesn't even hold a shadow of a doubt as Spencer presses closer. Apart one moment and there the next. His lips to Aaron's, a pressing force that starts soft and ends with a crushing desperation.
They kiss hard, and it's…
Everything.
"I love you," Spencer whispers, the moment he can manage, and Aaron smiles against his mouth – kiss bitten and red, and for the first time in days not from blood. But from passion. He looks so beautiful like this, Aaron can't help how the words escape him without concession.
"And I love you… in all the ways that I thought I had lost."
Hundreds of years stacked on top of each other, spent alone and desolate as Aaron wandered the planes of the Earth with no one beside him. No one that remained beyond memories and gravestones and the love and grief he harbors for them to this day. The ones he's lost. Spencer was so close to becoming another name to add to that ledger. It's why the Immortal man had stopped letting anyone so close, even family, even Emily – no one was allowed as near to his heart as the ones he had lost in those early years. That first century hitting so hard. Aaron had thought he'd completely destroyed his ability to care for another soul to the capacity he had always cared for the ones he loved.
But he had been so very, very wrong.
Instead, he found that he had given that care and attention to Humanity as a whole, and in turn learned to love again through the best of them. Through his team, through his descendants, and through Spencer. The most extraordinary of them all.
The one who gave Aaron his heart back.
Spencer lurches forward and kisses him again, tilting into the gesture and bringing his hands up to Aaron's face, arms around his neck, pulling him tighter to him and Aaron is very much reminded now that Spencer is strong in ways he never was before. He has to hold solid or kiss back with just as much biting force, drawing Spencer into something that's just as heavy, but more molten. Tectonic plates shifting, instead of mountains crashing together. Leads him into a kiss that steals the very breath Spencer has been so desperately trying to hold on to – and he gasps against Aaron's mouth when they part. Eyes flashing, fangs aching to drop, and his body thrums with the slowest rhythmed beat that still resonates at every decibel.
But it draws him back to center, and Spencer suddenly feels a fluttering sensation of unease. Shy for the first time in a long time, when wrapped in the ancient Vampire's arms.
He pauses before asking, low and quiet, "How does this work now?"
"How does what work?" Aaron asks back, confused and dazed from the kiss, but it comes to him quickly when he notices Spencer's reluctance, his hesitation that was never there before. "Oh – that's what you've been thinking so much about?" Being intimate, together, without the aid of Spencer's mortal blood like before.
Spencer nods, unable to voice it but unable to lie, and so Aaron gathers Spencer impossibly close – his hands cupping Spencer's cheeks and kissing him all the more. Small pecks, ever so softly. Trying to decide how to proceed: because Spencer knows the physical processes probably better than Aaron does. How a Vampire can get aroused, have sex, without the catalyst of Human blood. They are capable of those chemicals all on their own; it's just the circumstances that make it more difficult. Starting with organs and a brain that are just this side of 'technically dead', it takes certain amounts of time and parameters to achieve that effort.
He decides, as they stand there and get lost in one another, a slight sway and grounding through the floor, exactly what to do to get Spencer into the right frame of mind.
"I want you to listen, very closely," Aaron rumbles, low and soft like thunder. It draws Spencer in, nose to nose and a breath apart. Hands grasping his shirt and his arms, as Aaron lets his own hands slide down to encircle Spencer's waist and hold tight to his hips. "Listen to that beat of the heart. Yours or mine, it doesn't matter which. Find it, hone in on it, and let everything else fade back."
His bass tones are like a meditation reading, guided and comforting and Spencer closes his eyes to soak it in. Does as he's told. Would do anything to try and find peace within the chaotic world he now inhabits.
"Listen to how it beats. Because it does beat, ma lumière. Just very, very slowly."
Spencer listens so intently his own heart nearly stops, his breathing certainly does. He focuses on his own heart, how it pulses in his ears and his throat and his wrists. The slowest of rhythms, but it is there. Just as Aaron told him it would be.
Thump-thump.
A devastating pause.
Thump-thump.
Another that feels so long.
Thump-thump.
So lost in the sound Spencer doesn't feel the way Aaron moves. Leans forward and kisses Spencer heavily, pulling him close with skilled hands and pliant lips, slips his tongue between his lips, between his teeth. Fangs and all. Because his fangs are back, they'd finally dropped the moment he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. But Aaron kisses him uninhibited, unafraid.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
There's a zing that shoots through him, feels bright and fluttering, swoops low through his body, and Spencer is shocked to find he not only feels the difference. Now, he can also hear it! The beat of his heart and the way it ticks up just a little bit more. A little closer to normal, for a Mortal. Aaron's hands tracing his waist and back and hips in wide swipes that are as searching and sensual as his mouth.
Thumpthump-thumpthump
They kiss hard, for long stretches of time that leave them panting and pulling at clothes, the sparks of arousal building bit by bit, chasing the sensations that only take a delayed moment to feel. But Spencer's heart pumps overtime to get them moving, to react how it should, and the chemical reactions feel so much more like this, intense with the backdrop of his pulse now thundering away in his chest.
Thumpthump-thumpthump-thumpthump-thumpthump
Then it all starts to move a little faster. As they twist and turn and kiss deeper. As Aaron picks him up off the floor, less careful of him now that he won't break beneath his hands.
The two Immortal lovers fall prey to that kiss, and the way the thumpthumpthumpthump of Spencer's racing heart consumes everything. Once sounding as if underwater, now like war drums in his ears.
The dam begins to break, and soon both Sire and fledgling begin to drown in the flood waters of their passion.
Spencer's back hits the wall, cracks the plaster, but the two don't even break their stride. Spencer can't hear a thing now, not their gasps or moans or Aaron saying his name. His lips spelling every letter of it but it's just a visual now. His consciousness is living within the chambers of his heart, feels and hears the blood pump sluggish and thick, his heart begging to run away in his chest as Aaron all but tears their clothes off. Kisses and bites and sucks on every expanse of cooled, Undead skin he can find. Turning it a dusty brick red flush with each rough impact, wet mouthing, heated flash of chemicals that his brain is going into overdrive to make. Dragging both of their stubborn, Undead bodies — with nails in the ground, ripping the very Earth apart beneath them — as they take themselves to a place where they feel alive.
Spencer is drowning in his own heart beat, in Aaron's as they sync, as the distant cry of his own screams of pleasure echo in the vacant room and off the ceiling, as Aaron strokes him, stretches him, and enters him – all held up against the wall. Thrusts with all the prowess and power Spencer had become addicted to when he was living. Knowing just how he likes it, the thrust and drag and curve and snap, the filthy grind that sends them toppling towards oblivion – then pulls back just before they fall, and with the chemical bindings of pleasure taking their sweet, fucking time in his blood and nerves and brain… it lasts so much longer. They last so much longer. Until the skin is flushed and warm and thrumming, the blood sings as if molten in their veins, Spencer's fangs pulse at his gums because he can't control them yet and Aaron's drag against Spencer's neck enticingly because he craves. He wants. He loves and adores and reveres and now… he has. He has Spencer, for all time. For all of time.
His.
When they finally reach that peak, come with an Earth-shattering force, their bedroom is in shambles. The plaster of the wall they are up against is crumbling and powdered, caking Spencer's shoulder blades and dusting Aaron's feet. They pant for breath they don't need to catch, press together until their foreheads touch, curved inward where they meet. Like quotation marks. A beginning and an end, all encompassed, and Aaron kisses him as he pries them from the wall. Moves them to the bed, and starts the process all over again.
They make love until the sun dips down beyond the horizon, casting the rooms in shadows they can still see bright as day. Leaving a litany of bright, beautiful moments where Spencer's heart races and Aaron's beats in time, and they feel as alive as they ever had. Decorating their night like constellations in the sky.
—
The final stretch of the 30 days moves so much more smoothly, it's like night and day. 30 days is really an estimate, a typical average for what it takes for someone Turned to fully Change into a fledgling Vampire. The time it takes for their body to adjust, for the mind to re-calibrate, and for them to wean off of the blood of their Sire as they make the transition to Human blood. Unless they wanted to go with the 'ethical', yet more expensive, method of drinking animal blood instead. But Spencer has no queries with voluntarily donated/harvested Human blood, since he knows the Federal regulations word for word.
So now, instead of one foam ice chest full of pint-sized blood bags, two arrive on Aaron's doorstep twice a month. Good old fashioned Federal regulated blood bags. It's a forced hand, switching from the blood of his Sire to Human blood, because once the Change has fully taken hold even his own body's needs shift with it. Feeding from his Sire no longer nourishes Spencer, so he must make the switch. Human blood is thinner, but more addicting. More flavor profiles. And as with anything new he encounters in his life, Spencer begins to research and look into the scientific perspective of his new bearings.
The Human scientific community considered the Vampiric condition to be a mutation. Vampires feed on Human blood because their own bodies cannot absorb the vitamins and nutrients that food would otherwise provide, and they also cannot make red blood cells fast enough to function. When a fledgling's transformation is complete, their body is fully Undead and in that state of stasis mentioned previously. The cells know no other way to exist. Human blood provides not only the nutrients, but the kick start to keep their bodily functions moving as they should. Replaces food, replaces oxygen, replaces hydration – all in one go. The Vampiric mutated condition requires fresh Human blood in order to stay 'alive', by their definition of the term.
Broken down in such a way, Spencer can wrap his head around it. Understand it. Takes to the Human blood quickly, as he has done with everything. The physical Change that nearly killed him, the emotional and mental Change that left him in a dissociative state for days, all in retrospect passed by very quickly. Intensely, terrifying and dangerously, but rapidly all the same. The final week of his mandatory 30 days comes and Spencer feels reborn, brand new, and sometimes even more like himself if he sits still for long enough.
He adapts, as Elle always said he would. Pivot, re-adjust, and press on. Better than before.
The team gets all of Spencer's things moved in that final week. The lease on his old apartment is miraculously released, not by any Vampiric clause but by a technicality in the Federal issued paperwork on Spencer's Change from Human to Undead. 'Technically', one has to die for it to occur. Which just so happens to be a clause in his apartment lease. Penelope barely had to look up from her game of Tetris to win that legal battle.
The logistics get ironed out, forms signed, Federal regulations issued and with each passing day everyone eases as if the unknown is finally over with. As if they know what lies ahead now. Can see it all laid out – and yet Spencer knows the reality is that he can’t. How could he possibly know? He's on a ride now he can't get off of, going in a trajectory that he can't see. All he knows is who will be beside him, and that man holds his hand as often as he can now. Holds him. Kisses him. Practically glows as the final day of their month long sabbatical approaches and he feels he can breathe easy. Because Spencer survived, he's still there where Aaron can reach him, a twin fixed point in the vast universe. Like a constellation in the heavens, forever a spectator to all history will have to offer. Together, ready to face whatever it has to offer.
With Aaron by his side, Spencer finally feels that he's ready. Now that his own history has drawn to a close, the final curtain call. All that's left are the acknowledgements of a life well lived, the prelude to one everlasting. And he knows right where to begin:
"I want you to come meet my mom."
Aaron catches his eye in surprise. He'd known this exchange of declarations was at hand, but he hadn't expected it to start so unprompted. He nods in agreement, and Spencer offers him a small smile in thanks, but it's obvious Aaron is nervous as he pauses before offering his own stipulation.
"I want you to be Jack's other godparent," Aaron tells him, though it comes out as an offer more than a declaration. By Spencer's wide eyes, still the same honeyed hazel he'd fallen in love with months ago, he hadn't expected Aaron to be so forthcoming either. "I've got my own status, since he is a descendent, but godparents have a legal standing that has more history. Ironically. The first is Jessica, and I already have both her and Haley's blessing on this. If it was possible for you to adopt him, I'd offer that instead. Maybe one day it will be."
"Well, that would require –" Spencer stops, realization dawning, and stares at Aaron over the little café table they inhabit in the park. They never got to go out like this, when they were together before, and it's a shame Spencer doesn't technically have to eat now that they can. But he can see now Aaron has had an ulterior motive the whole time. There's barely anyone around to witness it, mid-afternoon with the sun shining bright, as Aaron takes his hand in his own; strong and broad encasing long and artistic. "Oh…"
"I told you, I wanted to do this right."
So he did, and thank God Spencer no longer has a need for oxygen – because he couldn't have drawn a breath if his life depended on it.
Aaron squeezes his hand, rubs his thumb along the delicate lines of his wrist and palm, and though it appears like he's trying to find his words… Spencer knows he's probably been rehearsing them for a long time. In fact, if he was to hazard a guess, he probably would say it was almost exactly 30 days.
"I was going to do this at home," he begins, low and rumbling in the way Spencer always adored. Would lean in to hear him more clearly, when he had Human ears. He doesn't have to, any longer, but he still does. Forever drawn to the vibrato of Aaron’s words. "Reclaim that room for us and our future together but – it's just a room. A space that will be long gone while we remain, and I know now that home is going to be wherever I am with you. So that makes now the perfect time."
Aaron moves as smoothly and surely as he ever does, strength and promise and as time-honed as the Earth itself.
He kneels down beside their little café table, keeping Spencer's hands in his own, and Spencer wouldn't have looked away for anything. The world could have imploded, nations raised and fallen, and he'd still be looking into the deep brown depths of Aaron's eyes.
"Ma lumière, you have shown me parts of myself I thought were long buried and gone. Cast my life in a new light, and made me feel and live as I have never had the chance to in all my many years. I thought I was strong in my solitude, for it's kept me upright for centuries, until you showed me what real strength was. That bravery can be soft, that love can be built through the most quiet gestures, and that sometimes the most precious things are the ones that are fleeting. And now I'm the luckiest man in the world, because that precious thing I've adored the past few months is still in my hands." He squeezes Spencer's fingers again, and Spencer smiles at his use of phrases. Knows exactly where he plucked each instance from, the most prominent being the last. Because your life is infinite, and mine is fleeting.
"I'm not fleeting any longer," he tells Aaron, it comes out as barely a whisper. Aaron smiles, and it's a sad, fond smile – no, Spencer is no longer fleeting. Now they are both burdened with an infinite life. But they will get to live it together, and that's all they could have ever asked for.
"We're bonded now, in Vampiric terms, not just as Sire and fledgling but as partners. Mates, âmes soeurs, in the most archaic of senses." Aaron tells him this as if it were written in a Gospel, as a fact proven above all others. Beyond science and religion, to the basest form of truth. "You are mine. And I am yours, until the end of time."
He pauses then, doesn't look away, doesn't even blink as he conjures the words forth.
"But I want to make it official, in every sense and capacity I can."
The squeezing of his fingers tighten to the point Spencer can now tell Aaron's hands are shaking. The smallest of trembles. The beginnings of a tectonic shift, one that will change the shape of the world.
"So – Dr. Spencer Reid, will you marry me?"
The first time Spencer draws a breath, since Aaron had taken his hands, is one in which to answer him – unequivocally, and without hesitation.
Just as he always had. From the very first offer of the life in his veins. The life he gave, as easily as he gave his heart, to the man who now offered him the very same.
For all time.
Until the world stops turning, and every day after.
"Yes."
—
"We're going to be late!"
Penelope snaps her fingers, sending an electric pulse through the air that crackles and sparks about her perfectly manicured nails. Turning off her curling iron on her vanity, as well as turning on the coffee pot for Derek in the kitchen. (And possibly giving everyone on her apartment level a little electric shock.) Knowing the man would need it in order to drive correctly between the lines on the way into Quantico. She hops on one foot trying to latch her heels without breaking an ankle, and continues to skitter about the apartment grabbing this and that and the other in order to make sure they have everything they will need for today. Because today's the day!
And they are not going to be late!
"Derek! Get your gorgeously toned ass out of my shower or they'll get there before us!"
God, she never thought she would be shouting those words in all her life. But here she is.
It still throws her, to this day, to turn the corner into her bedroom and see Derek Morgan in nothing but her over fluffy pink Turkish towel still all shiny and damp from the shower. Her chocolate Adonis sculpted from the gods themselves. It stops her in her tracks, quite literally on a dime, makes her hum and huff and squirm a little because if it had been any other day they could have been just a little late. More than a little. Is an hour a little? Derek smirks when he sees her dazed in the doorway, like he can actually read her thoughts or aura, smug and fond and –
"Nope!" Penelope says with a determined little stamp of her foot. Her whole body doing a little scanner buzz the equivalent of a shiver to most other Humans. "No, no, no you stop looking at me like that. I refuse to miss Hotch and Reid's first day back because you –"
Derek's started walking towards her, when did that happen?
"You – you and your –" she makes a gesture to his everything but it comes off as more of a stroking of the air as she backs up a little and oh! There's the doorframe, she didn't back up like she planned. This is not working, because Derek is suddenly there, right in front of her and she can feel his heat and his damp skin and it's making her whole body tingle in not very electromagnetic ways. "I will shock you. Don't make me shock you."
It's a feeble threat, although she isn't sure he wouldn't at least get a static shock if he were to touch her right then.
She is also very breathless and wide-eyed and this dress does wonders for her push up bra and Derek is looking down at her cleavage very appreciatively from that height. Her heart is doing a skitter pattern that would give an EKG machine some kind of complex.
Strong, bare arms bracket her on either side and those entrancing dark eyes are pulling her in and very, very suddenly Penelope completely forgets what she was in a hurry for.
Soft slips slide against her own, firm and unafraid of her even as a light crackle dances about the kiss. He braces for it, embraces it, leans in and the electric shock holds them fast together as the reaction turns the kiss from chaste and sensual to heavy and lasting. It tastes like ozone and toothpaste and Penelope's coral pink lipstick, makes her breath heave and move her whole chest and every inch of her feels as warm and steamy as Derek is. Calls back to the night before when they were in a very similar yet very horizontal position, and Penelope was in much less work appropriate clothing, and she is about to rip that towel off of him and make them very very late when –
Derek pulls back just a breath away, both panting and so melded their lips practically stay stuck together, and murmurs low and sultry, "that's for shocking me in the shower."
"What–"
Derek's smile is wide, gorgeous, showing all teeth, and her freshly applied lipstick now smeared around his mouth.
"Oh my God! I can't believe you!" she shrieks, ducking under his perfectly muscled arms to her vanity and… will admit her lipstick is smeared in a way that makes her all hot and squirmy all over again. But she growls and stamps her foot as she sits down and starts to remove it from her face. "We are so late and you are in so much trouble," she swears under her breath, refusing to be moved by how Derek saunters back over to her even though she watches every movement of those hips in the mirror. He leans down to take a make-remover wipe as well, and uses the opportunity to speak right in her ear.
"I'll make it up to you later."
She shivers at the heavy promise laced there, and glowers at him, to which he responds by dropping his towel in her lap while she is otherwise occupied applying fresh lipstick.
The view left in her mirror is almost worth the entire diversion, even if it almost makes her smear her lipstick again.
They arrive with a mere thirty minutes to spare, Derek carrying the majority of the bags filled with supplies and Penelope holding the carrying tray filled with coffees as it takes more balance and she is most definitely using a magnetic force to keep them stacked and upright.
"C'mon, 'cmon, c'mon," she chants as she skitters down the hallway into their private division as fast as her heels will carry her. "I need help! Kate! I need your wings to hang stuff up! Emily and Tara! Come help us! Father, I need you to watch for them!"
"On it!" A bright burst of light in the middle of the bullpen zips through the air and arrives in the conference room before she and Derek can, turning into a fully grown woman with shimmery near-invisible wings behind her. Kate Callahan, a forest Sprite on loan from Paranormal Sex Crimes Unit, takes bags from Derek easily and already begins digging through them to help hang decorations. Dr. Tara Lewis, a highly skilled psychic with a penchant for conversing with the dead, and Emily round the corner, joined at the hip as they always are. The sight occurring more and more and both pretending they have yet to notice. Penelope shares a small smile with Derek when the Ancient Witch goes all dazed and star-struck at the Medium's sharp wit and brilliant smile. Hotch and Reid were going to have a lot of catching up to do on the team dynamics when they arrived.
It was Penelope's idea to do a small welcome back party, because she can never say no to a party and this is quite literally a once in a lifetime deal. Although she's already called dibs on the engagement party and wedding shower as well. Emily might fight for joint custody of one of those events, though.
"They're here!"
Between a flurry of wings and light and static electricity, and some fancy levitation no one knew Emily was even capable of doing, they finished hanging everything up in just a few seconds flat as Father Rossi dipped into the room to join them only to stop and look up in surprise.
"Halloween decorations?"
"Yeah! Because Reid loves Halloween, and you know – Vampires and Witches and Werewolves, oh my! It's fun!" Penelope says, not at all deterred even when Derek whacks the priest with a stack of paper plates for questioning her party theme choices. "Speaking of which, where's the newbie?"
"Alvez is on special assignment in New Mexico," Tara informs her. "Pack Dynamic Taskforce has him overseeing peace treaties, but if we get a new case he'll just meet us there if we still need him. Since Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid are returning to active duty today, this is technically our last day as replacements."
"Oh, that's true!" Kate exclaims, her wings drooping a bit. Festive black garland still in her hands. "I'm going to miss being here with you all. I might have to put in a transfer request for the next time there's an opening."
"Yeah, we'll… miss having you here," Emily says as well, kindly and not so pointedly directed at the woman standing next to her. Tara gives her a look of warm brown eyes with a secretive spark.
"I'll still be around," she shrugs, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. "We won't be going far."
"Alright you two, save it for after the guests of honor get here," Father Rossi chastises them, but Emily barely gets to make a rebuke because suddenly there are two Vampires walking past the conference room windows and Morgan's already wolf whistling Reid in his new suit very loudly. Followed by uproarious applause and cheers for a small gathering of seven, echoed down the halls by their smattering of support agents and JJ hurrying to join them. Her arms laden down with folders, Will in tow and playing hooky from work. Will cheers loud enough for three additional bodies. Everyone is pulled into hugs, shakes hands, Father Rossi kisses Undead cheeks and Spencer is smiling so wide and happy he can't quite believe his heart isn't trying to burst from his chest. It'll catch up soon, fluttering there against his breast and starting to flush his face slowly.
"Good to know you can still blush, pretty boy," Morgan teases, pinching said cheek and Spencer tries to twist away – so successfully he near knocks over a table. "Whoa, easy there. Don't know your own strength yet, do ya kid?" Jovial laughs echo around and Spencer rightens the table all by himself with minimal effort, murmuring apologies.
"Just wait until you have to teach him self defense next week," Hotch tells him with a rare smile on his face, "I'm already starting a betting pool that he finally floors you." Only Hotch and Emily had managed that out of the whole BAU. Morgan pretends to look offended, yet scandalized that their stern leader is actually endorsing their habits of betting pools.
It's a sweet, fun welcome home party; taking the place of what would have been reintegration paperwork, new badges, new documentation and registrations, but Penelope worked hand in hand with JJ to make sure that all of that was ready to be taken care of in the most festive of ways. Gifting, more than anything, which was a joy to watch Spencer laugh as he opened a gift bag to find his own badge and credentials but with a #2 Classification: Vampire. It was like a rebirth, Penelope almost called it a birthday, and she was pleased as punch that Spencer found the decorations delightful and very appropriate for the day.
"Alright, alright, let's see them," Tara says, clapping and bringing Spencer in with Derek, Penelope, and Emily hovering. Kate quite literally with her wings shimmering behind her. The group gathered near the table JJ has had Spencer signing his new documentation at. Spencer practically giggles at the fascination, put on the spot, but he doesn't think he's stopped smiling since he arrived back at the private sector of the BAU. His cheeks would hurt if he was Human. He tries to school that smile with a twitch of his nose and twist of his lips, making a cute expression Hotch huffs happily at across the room, standing next to JJ and Rossi as they conversed about the stack of files JJ had left by the front of the room. A case that needs their attention… but not just yet. Not while their youngest member, now forever young, is surrounded by his coworkers that are as good a family as anyone could ever ask for, and – unafraid – bares his fangs with a tentative lick to one like he also still can't believe they are there.
"What a time we live in," Father Rossi says beside him, understanding fully why Hotch is watching them in wonder as Derek tells him his fangs are awesome and Emily grins like the devil himself. It's not every day someone gets to see Vampire fangs up close, even Tara is wowed. "They look good on him."
"He's taken to it better than I ever could have anticipated," Aaron murmurs happily, and JJ smiles so soft and fond Will has to wrap an arm around her in shared adoration. "It was a rocky start, but he recovered so quickly. I think we can thank all of you for that."
"Not just us, he's a strong kid," Father Rossi agrees. "But having a good, strong family helps."
And Aaron's Undead heart swells at the mention.
Not too long after, they have to draw the little welcoming party to a close, and convert the conference room back to it's usual purpose – bat shaped garlands and all – presenting their newest case. A string of grisly murders in Oregon all taking place on the coast, in known Selkie territory. Spencer knows quite a bit about Selkies, their origins, and the town out there that holds as a make-shift reservation for what should be solitary creatures. There's a chance that this has nothing to do with them, a frame job or a wayward creature that stumbled into their area by coincidence, but they wouldn't know until they got feet on the ground. So with a few quick parameters, and a summary of the legislations Spencer knows without batting an eye – making Kate and Tara stare in wonder – the team takes all their files and await the sorely missed dismissal from their Unit Chief.
Hotch doesn't even tease them. "Dr. Lewis and Agent Callahan, we could use the extra hands this case, so grab your gear if you have it and meet us at the jet. Wheels up in 30."
The two temporary agents nod in thanks and leave the room before the rest of the group, leaving Penelope grinning wide and informing Hotch that she really missed that sign off. "It hasn't been the same without you, sir."
And Hotch, for as stoic as he's remained the entire briefing, softens enough to look at his team of seven and allow another slip of a smile.
"It's good to be home."
—
Spencer Reid has never had a normal life, by any stretch or definition of the term.
And he's just fine with that.
He couldn't even imagine his life in any other capacity. The day Jason Gideon had pulled him aside in his postdoctoral seminar to ask what he knew about behavioral sciences, had been a day just like any other, but it changed his life forever. He'd shaken Agent Gideon's hand, and suddenly the man seemed to know… everything about him.
Jason Gideon was a telepath unlike any other. Much like Morgan, he could walk into a scene and know exactly what happened, role-played each step so they had an even clearer picture of what took place in the space. But while Morgan goes on instinct and aura, Gideon could see and hear the events once he caught onto a signature. Morgan recalled in vivid clarity once, when they were discussing why Gideon had left, the day he had watched their predecessor crawl onto a victim's bed and lay in the spot the LEOs had found her. It was there he could see that she had laid there, screaming, looking out the window with her eyes wide open, at her attacker high on a light pole. An electrician. A Human. A lot of the time, Humans were the monsters they hunted, and Jason Gideon knew them all more intimately than any of them.
That's why he had left, after decades of horrors in his head. Experiencing the torture and murder, even second hand, left so much damage. But, as Gideon often told Spencer in their classroom discussions, if it meant he could help stop the same incident from happening to others – didn't that mean it was his duty to do it for as long as he could possibly stand it?
So he had, and Spencer had watched him wither away even further the few years he had known him. That moral obligation is what kept him in the BAU for as long as he was there, even after he had to leave and come back multiple times to survive the mental strain. But time, and age, and a thousand violent crimes all locked away in his head finally took its toll, and he had to leave before the cracks in his psyche shattered him completely.
Looking back, Spencer can hardly blame him for doing so. Even when he left as he had, abrupt and devastating to himself. At the time, he'd felt like Gideon had left them without any aid, or warning, or thought to the future of the BAU.
But that was the furthest thing from the truth, and Spencer can see that now.
Gideon had managed to build an entire team as his successor, to take over in his absence: Hotch to lead it as diligently as Gideon ever could, Morgan to see what Gideon himself could always see, JJ to get them in the door no matter where they go just as he had, and Spencer – to put all the pieces together when they seem so scattered.
He left the BAU in good hands. And through them, they had grown their numbers, strengthened themselves even more; found purpose, found family, found love and friendship and a legacy all their own. Gideon may have brought them all together because of their unique gifts, a team of monsters to hunt the monsters haunting our world, but it was without him that they became the best that they could be.
Not because of their gifts, or state of being, but because of their humanity. Their extraordinary resilience to remain infallibly themselves in the face of the worst the world has to offer, and get up every single day to face it again, and again, and again. Unfaltering. Unflinching. Always caring, and never backing down. Sworn to protect the people, Humans and creatures alike, against the real monsters of the world.
Making them the first of their kind that defies classifications at all.
—
The End.
—