Characters: Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Team-gen, NO Pairings, Reid-centric.

Ratings: R (for future language, violence, and torture stuff the whole kitten-kaboodle)

Warnings/Spoilers: Post Season Five.

Genre: Supernatural/General/Friendship/Mystery/Horror/Angst/Hurt/Comfort.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and nothing from Criminal Minds, it belongs to their respective owners. No money is made from this, it is just for fun.

Summary: Spencer Reid has many special talents. What happens when he finds out he has another one? Not only is that, but forces stronger than any unsub are at play and threaten to consume him in the process. Can the team and Morgan figure this mystery out before it's too late? Reid and Morgan are going to be tested beyond anything they've seen so far. Post Season 5, GEN, No pairing, Vampires.

A/N: This is my first fanfic. This will have best-friend-brotherly-bond with Reid and Morgan! I would really love tips and pointers. I suck at dialogue. I already got chapter two started and almost done. It will have the talking parts. I just had to get this Reid part off my chest. I love him. I just have such a crappy time setting up the dialogue parts, makes me so anxious. Sorry if it sucks or is confusing. Really hoping for help before I submit chapter two.

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Chapter One

He, Himself, and the Odd.

Two weeks, that's how long Spencer Reid has been a practical version of a zombie. Not being able to sleep properly or at all on some nights. Sleep has never come easy to Spencer, always having difficulty falling asleep, frequent nocturnal and early morning awakenings. Nightmares are also not anything new to him, especially in his line of work. He has the frequently he might add, he has grown accustomed to it, accepted the fact that they will always be there.

Something is different this time though.

Every time he closes he eyes, he's dropped into a pit of darkness and vivid nightmares. He feels an array of emotions hitting him like a ton of bricks. Weighing down his chest, to the point he's not sure he has the ability to even breath any more, yet he sometime takes that grateful gasp of air.

This was one of those not being able to sleep properly nights.

Dread was the word he used anymore when getting ready to lay down in bed for his much needed sleep.

Illogical.

He keeps telling himself that, that it's illogical to be so terrified of his bed. No not the bed, the prospect of what the bed offers. Terror behind his eyes, that he is scared when he opens them it will become real.

He's done his regular night time preparations, he feels calm and confident by it. That sense of normalcy that offers a welcome distraction.

So why is it then, now that he is standing near his neatly turned down bed; at a perfect 90 degree angle just like he likes it, that his hands are shaking? He turns his head to make sure the night light is still on and that everything is all clear and no strange shadows are lurking near. He knows that it's a bit paranoid, but he figures at this point whatever can calm him down, is worth a try.

As he starts to lie down in bed and get comfortable, he tries to breathe nice and even deep breaths while closing his eyes.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Opening his eyes, he feels a bit better than he did before. Tries to clear his mind of all thought and only concentrate on his over exhausted body and let sleep succumb to him. Burying his head in his pillow he closes his eyes and gives in…


As his mind begins to drift, he's found himself in a horribly familiar place he has seen too many times lately.

He was standing in a deep sea but it was unlike any other sea. It is a sea of the color red. Reid often wondered if it was blood, but for the fear of confirming that fact or not, he dare not touch it to find out… but he had a feeling it is. The red water shows ripples, but he feels no breeze pass him by, just deafening silence and all consuming darkness. Walking around trying to see any end of it, he felt this eerie feeling creep over him. He turned to all sides and nothing is there.

Finally as if a light has been turned on flames erupted from all sides of him. Like an explosion just set off in front of him, yet there was no noise, no impacted of shock wave, just a blaze of color and heat like no other. He doesn't feel fear for the flame oddly enough. He stares pasted it, frozen to the spot. Transfixed on something he sees moving beyond just the flames. He is scared, breathing faster than normal, shaking, yet he remains still. Finally a shape comes into place. Red orbs glow, almost as bright as the dangerous flames that keep growing in size threatening to touch him.

Suddenly the ground quakes and he looks down only to regret it. Faces are staring up at him, as if reaching out but not able to break the surface. The only face he can make out is the face of a person so important to him that he finally dares to touch the red water and dives in with his hands trying to reach him. But it's no use he keeps drowning farther and farther away from him.

Hearing an icy piercing noise, snapping his neck up to see the red orbs of the shadowy figuring saying words but he can't understand what he is saying.


Reid jerks awake, hearing his alarm clock beeping at him, he barely notices it. He is trying to get the ringing out of his ears. The icy cold laugh his mind hears just refuses to go away to fade away like it should. Body sprawled out in a tangled mess in the covers; he must have been thrashing around in his sleep. Staring at his hands not sure if he was still expecting to see the red liquid stained on them. Shaking his head, he catches a glimpse of his night stand. His alarm clock tells him he has slept in; unless he hurries he is going to be late for work. In the back of his mind he almost wants to call in sick. He feels so tired, like he didn't fall asleep at all. He is shaking so bad, sweat covered from head to toe, and his stomach threatens to show him what little dinner he has last night.

That was by far the worse version of the dream he's had so far. It's as the dreams keep adding on to it, getting more powerful and just soaking him into it. Its bad enough his emotions have been on a roller coaster, threatening to hold on to his self control.

Lately it's as if everyone's attitudes affect him and change in an instant. He mildly wonders if he developing depression of some sorts. He's getting better at judging other's moods though besides the self emotional struggles, and wonders if he is just getting to know his friends better or maybe his profiling skills are rising up to the next level.

Getting up slowly out of bed to avoid a possible head rush. Reid races to the bathroom, relieves himself and strips his clothes off quickly to take the world's possible quickest shower. No matter how late he is, he needs to get the sweat of him he doesn't want to smell.

No need to make others worry more about his lack of being able to care for himself.

Jumping in the shower he turns the water to a very hot temperature and scrubs his favorite American Crew: Citrus Mint Refreshing Body Wash on. Reid has always been a lover of things that smelled sweet and that extend his shower items. Quickly rinsing off he gets to work on his hair. Not spending the same amount of time as he did on his body since it wasn't as covered in sweat as the rest of him. Turning off the water and jumping out grabbing the nearest towel in reach and drying off. Shaving was a bit tricky since his fingers still were shaking slightly, but forcing himself to slow down and breathe helped and resulted in no cuts at least.

Victory for Spencer.

Practically ripping the bathroom door open and off its hinges, he runs to the bedroom and grabs the first thing in his closet that's presentable. A muted gray spotted button up shirt with an even darker gray sweater vest, dark wash maroon tie, black pull-over sweater with dark gray trimming, and black cords.

Changing while walking and gathering his items needed for the day.

"Dang…" he murmured when he catches a glimpse at the time, and his eyes widen as he is tying up his black Chuck Taylor converses. With his slightly damp hair dripping water droplets on the collar of his shirt.

He is going to be late no matter how fast he rushes by now. Calm down, no reason dwelling on it, it will only make things worse he told himself. No time for breakfast today, that was way fine with him. Not even sure he could keep it down even if he did have time to eat, that worked out well in the end.

That's a good idea, concentrate on the positive.

Nearly forgetting to grab the files he left in the living room Reid ran for it. With careful precaution, he doesn't want a trip to the ER because of his physical clumsiness.

Reid's apartment isn't big. Just roomy enough not to be cramped, although still small compared to most, although he is fine with that. He's lived with worse, and makes it easier to clean and keep organized.

Reid will never admit it out loud, but he isn't dumb. He knows that he has OCD and Autistic tendencies. He knows his team mates have noticed it; they have never really spoken to him about it nor mentioned it. They have accepted him just the way he is, and this makes him happier than words can ever describe. He has admittedly got better over the years bit by bit proudly. He's not defective or broken; just Reid, unique, and as his friends say 'One of a Kind'.

One of those quirks includes keeping his domain the way he likes it. He doesn't get picky while at other places he's at as much. But here, he lets himself be who he is. Even his blank paper has to be categorized in a special order, ties organized by date bought and size, and etc. Books ordered in alphabetical order and date. Objects and picture frames sorted by height and dimensions, sometimes even color.

Some of the apartment while not superbly dedicated to the act is arranged in Feng shui. Reid tried it once about a year ago; it mostly just upset his way of things so he edited it more to his liking. So technically it is Reid - Feng shui. In the living room he has a modest sized well used couch and next to his favorite recliner he likes to read; in front of the couch is his coffee table. While usually covered with papers and pens, is now slightly chaotic because of his hasty morning retrieval. On the opposite wall facing all of this an old 17 inch television screen, he doesn't use it much. Besides watching his favorite dvds and cable documentaries, he never really found the need to upgrade to the popular HD craze; that and he can't afford it. A few shelves not matching in color along the walls, stuffed neatly with his favorite book collection.

Reading is just one of Reid's life pleasures. Reading is safe; he can jump into another life and leave his thoughts and anxieties behind, even if just for a little while. They don't let him down, hurt or neglect him. They are tangible, and comforting in their own odd way.

The kitchen is white, small and kind of squished between the living room and bedroom. He doesn't even use it much. Rarely goes grocery shopping since he takes longer than the average American probably does with that chore. He hates getting those weird looks from passerby-ers, and his anxiety levels become so high by the end of it he wonders if it's even worth it, since it's usually wasting away in his fridge by the time he gets home from a case. Cereal and microwavable food is the way to do it, easy and simple. Take out is usually the preferred option, ordering in is his favorite way of doing that. After trying to deal with his team mates, criminals, and stretching his mind to understand and comprehend others leaves him exhausted… So talking and dealing with strangers is never a thing he wants to willing put himself through. He gets enough of that when his friends drag him off to bars for an uncomfortable night out. Just wants to come home, decompress and compartmentalize. He does however have his most used item on the counter ready for use at a moment's notice; the beloved coffee maker.

The bathroom is tiled and small just like the rest of the place, in need of a good cleaning soon also. He has a periodic table shower curtain, and the rest of the place is decorated in bright and different colors.

Rushing like this is going to make things a problem because his morning ritual is definitely broken, but he can't think about that right now.

Perfect.

Wiping his sweaty palms on the outside of his pants he rushes to the door closes it with a loud thud with his retreat. Taking four long fast strides before he turns around and almost trips over his feet as he realizes he didn't lock the door. Runs back and locks it. Taking the stairs down instead of the elevator thinking it might be the fastest outcome. The image Spencer Reid to people that he zips by is just a fast blur. Reid has never been the epitome of masculinity and strength, although years of bullying and long legs have gifted Spencer the ability to run fast. Even though his previously injured knee will probably protest this action and hurt very much so later because of this.

Reid tries to block out the emotions that his body is reeling through as he tries to concentrate on his feet and only that.

One second he passes by a couple fighting and he actually feels as if he is angry to for some odd reason… Then the child that is crying as its mother desperately tries to sooth her to his right, Reid actually has the intense urge to cry as well.

No, that doesn't make sense.

He is just antsy from too little sleep and maybe still a bit shaken up by his nightmare.. that seems more like a night terror. Too little sleep can cause mood swings, the only logical explanation his mind is processing at this speedy moment. He takes comfort in that, and Reid is just hoping that his team mates don't notice this. The last thing he needs is the attention and concerned scrutinizing stares.

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A/N: What ya think, good or bad? Thanks ^-^, Love Samantha.

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