The Other Side, Part I Criminal Minds Big Bang
Title: The Other Side
Author: wit_worry_what
Beta: Katherine, the light of my life, who so kindly put up with all of my non-existent commas.
Word Count: 31,934, so close to 32k it hurts
Pairings: Hotch/Reid; OC/Reid; Garcia/Morgan; Prentiss/JJ
Rating: NC-17 cursing, sex, violence (poorly written violence), drug use
Warnings: There is dub-con in this (but it is not too graphic)! There are also S&M themes and a graphic consensual sex scene.
Author's Notes: I just want to say that I will be endlessly surprised that I finished this. Thanks to my artist,peasnbeanstalks , who kept up with my story even though I never sent it to her until the last minute. She did amazing work. Thanks to Weezer for making enough music that you were all I listened to while writing this! Thanks to my family who gave me more support than they will ever know.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Criminal Minds characters. Just the OC’s (my favorite is Griffin!)
Summary: Vampire!AU. The world is made up of humans and vampires, Doms and subs, and Spencer Reid has just freed himself from the Vampire Council’s clutches. Although trained to be the perfect sub, a Selected, he only wishes to be a BAU profiler. Meeting up with his mentor, Gideon, Reid finds himself on a brand new path full of heartbreak, drugs, and blood. No Rossi or Elle.
ARTIST INFO -
Title: Broken; When you know what's right
Artist:peasnbeanstalks
Pairings: Hotch/Reid
Rating: PG
Warnings: Blood
Artist's notes: Traditional, and ink, because it wasn't working any other way.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money made.
Art Link: Here, at my journal
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PART I
Spencer Reid walks out of the elevator for the first time at the FBI’s BAU office in Quantico. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. It is imperative for him to make a stellar first impression. As his eyes flick up from the floor where they were glued, he catches a glimpse of the man of his dreams. The man who has made him who he is today. The man he hasn’t seen in 11 years. Gideon.
~~
He, not unsurprisingly, was stuck in a sleeper hold by the school’s quarterback, again. The boy, Carter Bell, apparently had the urge to repeatedly tell Spencer all of the varied ways there were to tie “little pussy boys” to goal posts. Spencer couldn’t help but think that some of the scenarios Carter was describing were physically impossible, including the one of being strung up by his pubic hair. Accordingly, Spencer gasped out his observations to the quarterback, which, apparently, Carter did not take as constructive criticism. Outraged, Carter pushed the frail child to a concrete step with a thud. As the older boy rose his fist to take a swing at Spencer’s gasping form, a large figure swooped in and held the bully in the air by his neck. “Son, I assume I did not just witness you committing physical violence to one of The Council’s Selected. Did I?”
Poor Carter Bell. Spencer had never seen a person’s eyes open so wide. He, in a flight of fancy, thought that his eyes might pop out of his head. Of course, that was also physically impossible.
The large, dark man snarled and dropped the boy, and Carter scrambled away, terrified. The figure struck a rather imposing figure in all black clothing and long, beaten duster. He turned and offered Spencer a hand. Spencer, ever cautious, was hesitant to take the stranger’s hand, and so decided to get up on his own. However, he regretted his choice immediately once he put some weight on his hands that were cut from the rough cement. The man caught his wince and gently helped Spencer up, not looking for permission the second time. Spencer, although subconsciously grateful for the help, pulled his arm out of the stranger’s grasp the second he felt stable enough to stand without tipping over. Spencer had spent a large portion of his life - ever since his dad left - taking care of himself and his invalid mother, so the fact that this man galloped in on his proverbial white steed to save him did not invoke immediate trust.
“Th-Thank you, sir,” Spencer coughed out, still trying to get the rasp out his bruised throat. “And,” he continued tucking his hair behind his ear and standing up straighter, “although I do appreciate your assistance in that one inciDent, I think it would be best if I left you to your business and me to mine.” Spencer turned pulling his backpack off the ground to its home over his shoulder, striding off with purpose.
His striding, still full of purpose, lost some of its effect when he heard a wry chuckle sound from behind him. “Spencer Reid. You, son, are my business.”
~~
If time travel were indeed possible, and Reid had the somewhat scientifically improbable ability to actually use it, he knows he would see that it was his first encounter with Gideon, on the steps of his old Las Vegas public high school that had made a radical left turn in his life. For the better, of course. Of course.
Reid suddenly comes back to himself when Gideon walks up to him with an admittedly warranted look of surprise pasted on his face.
“Spencer, what are you doing here?” Gideon says looking around as if he is on candid camera. “I mean, uh, welcome to the BAU, Selected. How may I be of assistance to the Council?”
Reid’s face warms and becomes an enticing shade of pink. “Please, Gideon, no reason to be so formal. You’re causing a scene. People are looking.” The young human’s observation is correct, people walking within earshot all stop and look over the minute the word “selected” is uttered. “Just Spencer, please.”
Gideon acquiesces with a confused nod. From the look of befuddlement on Gideon’s face Spencer gathers that the Council never actually got in touch with the former Assessor. Council politics, he’s sure of it.
“I left, Gideon. I left the Den. I’m…,” Spencer pauses unsure of what exactly he is now classified as. “Free, I suppose. Yes, free,” he decides with a self-assured nod.
Gideon grabs Reid’s arm and drags him across the bullpen into the conference room, knowing that Special Agent Aaron Hotchner was sitting in his office impatiently looking for his latest report. Gideon closes the door with a muffled slam and closes the blinds quickly and quietly. When he has sufficiently locked both of them away from the world, he turns and stalks towards Reid with a glint he has not had in his eye since he gave up his official position as Assessor for the Council. He backs Reid up against the wall and closes the distance between them. Unwarranted dramatics already and he has only been at the FBI for fifteen minutes. Reid sighs inwardly.
“Spencer. What in God’s name are you talking about? Free? You are property of the Council. This has all been decided for you and you agreed to it. I was there. I chose you.” Gideon’s fangs are just visible under his minute snarl, displaying his already rather obvious displeasure at the situation. Reid, knowing better than to piss off a dominant vampire, bares his neck in submission. Gideon takes the display for what it is and sniffs, then snorts in derision. He takes one step back. “Explain.”
Looking up through his long eyelashes, showing proper deference, Reid speaks quickly, “After you left, I realized I did not want to be owned or bought or used. I want to do what you do: help people. The way you talked about this job all those years ago…It was all I could think about, so when the Council told me I was to be given to my chosen master, I told them no. Can you believe it?” Reid still so surprised by his assertive behavior all those days ago that he gives an awkward snort of laughter. “I did what was right. I know, I know. I did agree to be one of the Council’s chosen, and they put me through college - a couple times over. Plus I had to attend all of the Selected lessons. But, Gideon, I couldn’t do it. I have never submitted, not fully, in my whole life. I still don’t understand fully why you chose me for being a Selected, but when faced with my future I knew I couldn’t. I just, couldn’t,” Reid finishes lamely.
Gideon reaches up with his left hand and touches Reid’s arm paternally, “Spencer, you must understand by now how amazing you are. What a catch you are. Your mind…”
“Yes,” Reid cut him off, “my mind. However, that’s it. That is where my list of attributes ends. Well, I suppose other than being a virgin, but in all honesty I don’t even understand what part of that messy and painful act appeals to you people. And, Gideon, that’s just it! When I confronted the Council with my decision their stipulation was that I had to remain pure! It’s the perfect solution. They’re giving me the leash to do what I really wish to do, to work for the BAU. Plus, I now have a Council mandated reason to never go on a date or be forced to submit to some half-wit Dom. Gideon, I really am free. Liberated, if you will,” Reid giggles, giddy at finally being in the presence of the man whom he had dreamed of for years. He’s made it here to Gideon. Eleven years, and the man hasn’t changed a bit. Well, that’s usually how it works for vampires.
Gideon stares deep into Reid’s eyes looking for the truth. “Reid. What are you not saying?”
“Well. The Council would not just let me leave without some sort of babysitter, considering the fact that I’m a human submissive Selected: the weakest of the weak. So,” Reid says looking for the first time today genuinely scared, “they said I was to be in your care. If you agree, obviously. I have the paperwork here,” he trailed off quietly, pointing to his messenger bag. “Gideon, I want to make you proud and…and I think I can be good at this. Really good at this. Just give me a chance.”
Gideon stepps back further from Reid and begins to pace, thinking out loud, “You’ll will most assuredly be an excellent profiler. There is no doubt in my mind. Your mind is a work of art, the knowledge stored there would be invaluable in numerous occasions. However, this job does put a considerable amount of strain on its chosen agents.” Gideon stops pacing and turns to Reid and looks him straight in the eye. “Spencer, I’m not sure that you can emotionally handle it, as an unattached submissive. Look, I just came off a sabbatical, for some of my own…issues. This is a tough profession. It, I guarantee, is not what you have been dreaming of.”
As Reid faces him, setting his shoulders, his earlier submissive body language disappears. “I can handle it.”
Gideon takes a moment, and then slowly nods his agreement. A smile touches his lips as he says, “If anyone can it’s you. Of course, it’s you.”
***
After the initial confrontation, Gideon drops his darker persona like the act it was. His face breaks into a wide grin, and he pulls Reid out of the conference room.
Reid, shaken by the drastic change in attitude looks around warily waiting for the other shoe to drop. However, all he meets is the immediate silence that greets them the minute they step outside the door. Embarrassed, the skinny human tucks his hair behind his ear self consciously while moving his messenger bag in the front of him covering his pelvis, a subconscious defense mechanism. With his eyes directed downwards he misses the first glimpse of the BAU’s team leader until a shadow is cast over his feet. He looks up, worried, and an idle thought of why the FBI has all of the tall, imposing men flits through his head as he sees not only a dark muscled figure wearing a too tight across the front t-shirt, but also the scariest and most attractive man he has ever met. When that thought hits Reid he turns a dark shade of red and uses every ounce of will he has to not direct his gaze toward his laces again.
“Gideon, is everything alright?” the severe man in the obviously FBI regulation suit asks, not taking his eyes off of Reid. As if Reid was some sort of unsub and any sudDen movement would make him draw his weapon, or worse, his fangs.
“Yeah, man, I heard there’s some Council flunky strutting around looking for you,” says the overly muscled black man, while he looks around the bullpen to iDentify the intruder glancing at and ignoring Reid.
“Yes, Hotch, I’m fine. And, Morgan, this,” stepping aside and indicating Reid, “is the so-called ‘Council flunky’ you mentioned. Gentlemen, this is the Selected Dr. Spencer Reid.”
The dark man, Morgan, apparently, just stands dumbfounded, while Hotch stands impassive except for the subtle twitch under his eye when the word Selected was uttered.
“Hi,” Reid manages under the dual gazes with a little wave.
“He’s the newest member of our team.”
Morgan opens his mouth about to question Gideon, but Hotch, with a growl, cuts him off. “Gideon, can we speak in private,” he stated much more than asked.
Gideon nodded and turned to Reid, “I will be right back. Stay here.”
Gideon and Hotch both turn and walk into the nearest office and all Reid hears before the door is slammed shut is, “I don’t like when members of my own team….”
So, Reid stays there, not moving an inch and, as was becoming increasingly normal for him at this point, looks to the ground, still aware of Morgan’s presence.
After a moment or two of silence, Morgan starts pacing and eventually turns to the newcomer asking, “So, wait, are you Gideon’s Selected? Because the way Gideon talks about the Council and the Den, it doesn’t seem likely that they would want to do him a favor as big as granting him you.”
Gideon’s dislike of the Den and its practices are new to Reid. When Reid knew him, years ago, he was much like the man he saw in the conference room: dark, scary, exciting, and fiercely loyal to the Council. He wonders what has changed his mind and his behavior so drastically.
“Um, uh no. No, I wasn’t gifted to anybody. I, uh, well, I left and came to Gideon for a job. This job, obviously.”
Morgan looks a bit relieved at the explanation. “Ok, good. But how do you know Gideon? I mean, he isn’t exactly a cultural icon or politico or anything”
At this Reid averts his gaze, unsure if Gideon has told these people of his past involvement with the Council and the Den. “I knew him from before. He was,um, he was my teacher.” Reid goes for the honest but misleading truth, figuring he is better off safe than sorry.
“Uh huh,” grunts Morgan, obviously not liking his vague response.
They both wait in silence simultaneously hoping for Hotch and Gideon to return to the hallway quickly.
About five minutes later, both men reappear. Hotch locks gazes with Reid in blatant appraisal. “Go round up the team, Morgan. Conference room in five. We have to introduce our new team member.” Hotch says all of this, again, without taking his eyes off of Reid, and Reid, for the second time today, refuses to look away.
***
“Very medieval,” Reid mumbles under his breath looking at the round table that he had missed his first time in this room.
Morgan sits down next to a blond woman, as people start to walk in and take a seat as well. “What is?” Morgan asks.
“This room. The round table is similar to the one from the tale of King Arthur and Camelot. The table represents the equality that even a King has with his subjects, which is obviously meaningful for this team. As I’m certain that it takes each member of the team, all with their own particular insights to solve a case and find an UnSub. Interestingly enough, even through the tale of Arthur and his magical companion was made famous and is most well known from the writing of the Englishman Thomas Mallory in Le Morte d’Arthur, the tale originates well before…”
“Woah, buddy. Never mind,” Morgan says cutting Reid off mid-rant. “Is that gonna happen all the time?”
Before Reid can reply, Hotch clears his throat getting the attention of the six people in the room. “Ok, I know you are all confused as to why I called this meeting when we don’t have a case, so I’ll get right to it. We have a new team member,” Hotch annunciates clearly while pointing to Reid, standing as near as possible to the door, just in case, “Dr. Spencer Reid. Gideon and myself both agree that Dr. Reid will be an asset to the team, and we would like all of you to welcome him.”
The silence is deafening.
The dark haired woman with bangs is the first to speak. “Um, I don’t want to seem rude, honestly, but how old is he?”
Before Hotch can get a word in, Reid responds, making everyone’s head swivel towards him, “21.”
Morgan lets out a muffled chuckle. “Hotch, seriously? He seems, I mean, you seem like a great kid, kid, but you’re barely able to drink let alone profile.” Underneath the table the pink and blond girl kicks Morgan in the shin.
It is Gideon’s turn to chuckle, while Reid just looks downtrodden, having lost his earlier confidence in the face of so many people. “Dr. Reid, where did you attend college?”
Reid looks up, confused but obliging, “California Institute of Technology.” The pink haired woman lets out a surprised gasp.
“What is your doctorate in?”
“To which one are you referring?”
“Ah, so I suppose the better question is, how many doctorates do you have?”
Reid, becoming more confused as each rapid fire question hits him, turns to Gideon and says slowly, as though speaking to a child, “As you are already aware, three. I have three PhD’s in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering. And, I have two B.A.s. One in Sociology and one in Psychology.”
The silence is less deafening and more, well, flabbergasted.
“Reid, are you forgetting anything, as I’m sure you’re about to surmise what I am attempting to do here,” Gideon prompts with an arched eyebrow.
Reid sighs. He hates when people make him list these things. It makes him sound like, in layman’s terms, a freak. It is not that he is interminably proud of his accomplishments. He earned everything he has received, but if these people are supposed to be his co-workers his first impression should not be some kind of laundry list of accomplishments. It’s embarrassing. With a long suffering sigh, “I have an I.Q. of 187 an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words a minutes in not only English but in several languages including Russian and German. Oh, and I suppose I just finished my third B.A. in Philosophy, but I have not yet received the certificate, so that strictly speaking does not apply.”
Gideon smirks, while Hotch just looks vaguely impressed.
The pink-haired woman with the very loud purple and orange dress on is the first to stand and come over to Reid. “Hi, I’m Garcia. You’re gonna
fit in around here just perfect!” she squeals, giving him a hug.
“So you’re a genius, then? Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” laughs Prentiss, getting up to give him a handshake. “Emily Prentiss.”
Reid glances around and notices everyone’s relaxed pose after Garcia had hugged him. Apparently, that was the signal that everything was ok. If this group really takes cues from this eccentric woman, then maybe he finally has found somewhere to belong.
Only, it’s Hotch that is giving him a strange vibe. He did not fully understand why he is being so thoroughly examined by the man on the other side of the room, but figures it had to do with being forced to accept Reid onto his team. This group of profilers seem to function as a family unit, so when a so-called interloper comes into disrupt the previous calm, they must naturally be on alert, or so Reid believes.
***
His first week at the BAU is extremely busy, filled with meetings, learning protocols, and paperwork. Never ending paperwork. It was the next Tuesday when Gideon and he have to appear in front of the Council to formally agree to the arrangement Reid proposed. So, Monday night Garcia, picking up on Reid’s anxiety, tells the team that are all going out for a drink, “even you Special Agent Aaron Grumpner!” Garcia cackles in obvious delight with her witticism. Over the past week Hotch has become more polite to the young man, but never exactly friendly.
Out at The Rusty Nail, a great dive near the FBI building, Garcia places her hand on Morgan’s shoulder as if to direct him to the correct table, which Reid found odd. The type of personality that he sees from Morgan isn’t a submissive one. The group sits down at the large booth with Prentiss and JJ in the middle gossiping about the best way to pick up a Dom at a bar. The argument quickly devolves into a vampire vs. human debate. JJ believes that the best way to attract a Dom is through acting sweet and submissive, because that’s obviously what they’re looking for. No need to mess about if you’re only looking for a one night stand. Prentiss vehemently disagrees.
“That’s the thing with you humans! You always act so passive! If I was out looking for a sub I wouldn’t pick the one with the fluttering lashes! I want to play with someone with fight in them. I want to work for what I get out of ‘em. Believe me; if they’re worth it then I’ll get them there!” JJ laughs out loud at Prentiss’ rant.
“Fair enough,” the media liaison says, ever the diplomat, “you may have a point on how some Doms act, but I don’t think that has anything to do with human or vampire. Now, look at Morgan.”
Morgan, listening to something Garcia is whispering in his ear, turns his head at his name and lifts both hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “Woah, ladies! I have no part in this. I’m just talking to my hot mama. I’m not looking to pick up anyone anymore, thank you,” he finishes laughingly.
Garcia slaps his shoulder and growls playfully, “You better not be.”
JJ, though, keeps on. “I’m not asking you to go pick anyone up, Derek. I’m just using you as an example,” she says with a smile on her lips and turns to face Prentiss with a determined expression. “See, Emily, Morgan here is a human and a submissive. And I have, in the past, seen him attempt to pick up a date or two at bars. He does not use the, as you call it, ‘passive’ approach. He always gets their attention through other means. I mean, used to get their attention through other means. It’s just my personal technique to not be so aggressive. Doesn’t mean it’s a human thing.”
The argument goes on for a while, getting exponentially more outrageous directly proportional to their alcohol consumption. Finally Garcia, who has been on JJ’s side, shouts, “Wait, guys! We have an expert in the group, and he hasn’t given us his opinion, yet! Reid! After all of that training in the Den you have to have some sort of insight!” Garcia looks exceedingly pleased with herself for coming up with this solution.
Reid, who has been having a thoroughly enjoyable time watching this tableau play out in front of him, freezes up when they call for his input.
“Come on, Reid. Be the deciding vote!” laughs a seven shot drunken Morgan. He’s going to feel that in the morning.
Reid looks around for Gideon, but then remembers he left earlier. Getting old, he had said. His eyes alight on Hotch, who sits across from him. Hotch had also seems to have let loose a little throughout the evening - even smiling once. But when the table gets quiet waiting for Reid to
speak, Hotch stiffens as well.
“Well, in my old lessons they would teach us to do whatever our master asked of us. And, there were some Selected who were vampires. So, they at least were told to be less confrontational,” Reid states clearly, quietly looking down in to his amber beer, hoping his team will continue on and leave him out of it.
“What if your Master wanted you to be aggressive?” Hotch speaks up in a low husky voice, as though it’s difficult getting the words out.
It’s as if Reid is trapped by Hotch’s gaze, keeping him from moving until he answers the question. “Then,” Reid says seriously, “you act aggressively.” He sighs deeply. Obviously the group has been waiting a long time to hear what takes place in the Den. “When I was twelve and I was…recruited, so to speak, by the Council, I was headstrong and careless with my words because I was angry. I was angry for plenty of reasons that we don’t need to get into right now, but they saved me from that by showing me how to be a submissive. As much as I’m glad that I’m free from that life, I’m equally glad that I was allowed to take part in such an old and beautiful tradition. They teach you that being submissive does not rest in the Dom or in the whips or the chains, but in the person. It’s the person’s thirst for order and their need to belong that makes them submit. If a submissive doesn’t recognize and embrace these parts of them they can never be at peace in submission. One of my very first teachers is the only person, a human, to bring me down, and I fought her all the way. Every single step. Not because I was trying to be alluring or get her to notice me, but because I didn’t want to give it up. And the truth of the matter is submission is not something a Dom can give. It’s something that a submissive gives, so whether or not there’s a battle before it’s given over or it’s tied in a bow and given freely, it the sub that decides. In conclusion, then, being either a vampire or human has nothing to do with submission; it’s just the person’s choice,”
Reid finishes, looking at Garcia, who had originally asked the question. Trying to lighten the mood he adds, “Although do keep in mind that just because I was taught this subject does not mean that I have any actual experience. You would be better off asking someone who has experienced both human and vampire submission. Sorry guys. However, if you want to hear some Star Trek quotes, I can pull those out!”
Unfortunately the joke falls flat, and the group just stares at him. Prentiss mutters a “wow.” While, Hotch just turns his head away, as if hiding something.
It’s JJ who breaks the silence. “So, sorry Reid, but I’m just trying to be clear, you’ve never been with a Dom…in the biblical sense of ‘been with’?”
Reid chuckles nervously, “No, no of course not. All of the Selected are kept pure for their future owners. However, we’re taught anatomically how to pleasure our masters. That is, after all, the entire point of having a Selected. They’re experts in submission,” he gives a throaty laugh as he thinks of a perfect analogy, “sort of like a hotel room. They’re already set up perfectly to be used as if the occupant was at home, and you wouldn’t have wanted someone else to be living in your hotel room right before you show up, would you?” Reid is confused by the expressions he is seeing. They read disgust or sorrow. Is his team disgusted with him?
Morgan is one of the people with sorrow in his eyes. “Reid, you are much more than a fucking unused hotel room.” He speaks so earnestly that Reid, although not worried about being perceived as an unused hotel room, is touched by the care and concern his teammates are showing him.
“Thank you, Morgan, but I wasn’t ever really worried about it. I know who I am,” Reid pauses, looking everybody at the table in their eye. When he reaches Hotch, the look is so intense he blushes. “I’m a part of this team.”
Garcia’s face lights up and raises her drink, “I’ll drink to that!”
Ctd. in Part II
Author: wit_worry_what
Beta: Katherine, the light of my life, who so kindly put up with all of my non-existent commas.
Word Count: 31,934, so close to 32k it hurts
Pairings: Hotch/Reid; OC/Reid; Garcia/Morgan; Prentiss/JJ
Rating: NC-17 cursing, sex, violence (poorly written violence), drug use
Warnings: There is dub-con in this (but it is not too graphic)! There are also S&M themes and a graphic consensual sex scene.
Author's Notes: I just want to say that I will be endlessly surprised that I finished this. Thanks to my artist,peasnbeanstalks , who kept up with my story even though I never sent it to her until the last minute. She did amazing work. Thanks to Weezer for making enough music that you were all I listened to while writing this! Thanks to my family who gave me more support than they will ever know.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Criminal Minds characters. Just the OC’s (my favorite is Griffin!)
Summary: Vampire!AU. The world is made up of humans and vampires, Doms and subs, and Spencer Reid has just freed himself from the Vampire Council’s clutches. Although trained to be the perfect sub, a Selected, he only wishes to be a BAU profiler. Meeting up with his mentor, Gideon, Reid finds himself on a brand new path full of heartbreak, drugs, and blood. No Rossi or Elle.
ARTIST INFO -
Title: Broken; When you know what's right
Artist:peasnbeanstalks
Pairings: Hotch/Reid
Rating: PG
Warnings: Blood
Artist's notes: Traditional, and ink, because it wasn't working any other way.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money made.
Art Link: Here, at my journal
PART I
Spencer Reid walks out of the elevator for the first time at the FBI’s BAU office in Quantico. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. It is imperative for him to make a stellar first impression. As his eyes flick up from the floor where they were glued, he catches a glimpse of the man of his dreams. The man who has made him who he is today. The man he hasn’t seen in 11 years. Gideon.
~~
He, not unsurprisingly, was stuck in a sleeper hold by the school’s quarterback, again. The boy, Carter Bell, apparently had the urge to repeatedly tell Spencer all of the varied ways there were to tie “little pussy boys” to goal posts. Spencer couldn’t help but think that some of the scenarios Carter was describing were physically impossible, including the one of being strung up by his pubic hair. Accordingly, Spencer gasped out his observations to the quarterback, which, apparently, Carter did not take as constructive criticism. Outraged, Carter pushed the frail child to a concrete step with a thud. As the older boy rose his fist to take a swing at Spencer’s gasping form, a large figure swooped in and held the bully in the air by his neck. “Son, I assume I did not just witness you committing physical violence to one of The Council’s Selected. Did I?”
Poor Carter Bell. Spencer had never seen a person’s eyes open so wide. He, in a flight of fancy, thought that his eyes might pop out of his head. Of course, that was also physically impossible.
The large, dark man snarled and dropped the boy, and Carter scrambled away, terrified. The figure struck a rather imposing figure in all black clothing and long, beaten duster. He turned and offered Spencer a hand. Spencer, ever cautious, was hesitant to take the stranger’s hand, and so decided to get up on his own. However, he regretted his choice immediately once he put some weight on his hands that were cut from the rough cement. The man caught his wince and gently helped Spencer up, not looking for permission the second time. Spencer, although subconsciously grateful for the help, pulled his arm out of the stranger’s grasp the second he felt stable enough to stand without tipping over. Spencer had spent a large portion of his life - ever since his dad left - taking care of himself and his invalid mother, so the fact that this man galloped in on his proverbial white steed to save him did not invoke immediate trust.
“Th-Thank you, sir,” Spencer coughed out, still trying to get the rasp out his bruised throat. “And,” he continued tucking his hair behind his ear and standing up straighter, “although I do appreciate your assistance in that one inciDent, I think it would be best if I left you to your business and me to mine.” Spencer turned pulling his backpack off the ground to its home over his shoulder, striding off with purpose.
His striding, still full of purpose, lost some of its effect when he heard a wry chuckle sound from behind him. “Spencer Reid. You, son, are my business.”
~~
If time travel were indeed possible, and Reid had the somewhat scientifically improbable ability to actually use it, he knows he would see that it was his first encounter with Gideon, on the steps of his old Las Vegas public high school that had made a radical left turn in his life. For the better, of course. Of course.
Reid suddenly comes back to himself when Gideon walks up to him with an admittedly warranted look of surprise pasted on his face.
“Spencer, what are you doing here?” Gideon says looking around as if he is on candid camera. “I mean, uh, welcome to the BAU, Selected. How may I be of assistance to the Council?”
Reid’s face warms and becomes an enticing shade of pink. “Please, Gideon, no reason to be so formal. You’re causing a scene. People are looking.” The young human’s observation is correct, people walking within earshot all stop and look over the minute the word “selected” is uttered. “Just Spencer, please.”
Gideon acquiesces with a confused nod. From the look of befuddlement on Gideon’s face Spencer gathers that the Council never actually got in touch with the former Assessor. Council politics, he’s sure of it.
“I left, Gideon. I left the Den. I’m…,” Spencer pauses unsure of what exactly he is now classified as. “Free, I suppose. Yes, free,” he decides with a self-assured nod.
Gideon grabs Reid’s arm and drags him across the bullpen into the conference room, knowing that Special Agent Aaron Hotchner was sitting in his office impatiently looking for his latest report. Gideon closes the door with a muffled slam and closes the blinds quickly and quietly. When he has sufficiently locked both of them away from the world, he turns and stalks towards Reid with a glint he has not had in his eye since he gave up his official position as Assessor for the Council. He backs Reid up against the wall and closes the distance between them. Unwarranted dramatics already and he has only been at the FBI for fifteen minutes. Reid sighs inwardly.
“Spencer. What in God’s name are you talking about? Free? You are property of the Council. This has all been decided for you and you agreed to it. I was there. I chose you.” Gideon’s fangs are just visible under his minute snarl, displaying his already rather obvious displeasure at the situation. Reid, knowing better than to piss off a dominant vampire, bares his neck in submission. Gideon takes the display for what it is and sniffs, then snorts in derision. He takes one step back. “Explain.”
Looking up through his long eyelashes, showing proper deference, Reid speaks quickly, “After you left, I realized I did not want to be owned or bought or used. I want to do what you do: help people. The way you talked about this job all those years ago…It was all I could think about, so when the Council told me I was to be given to my chosen master, I told them no. Can you believe it?” Reid still so surprised by his assertive behavior all those days ago that he gives an awkward snort of laughter. “I did what was right. I know, I know. I did agree to be one of the Council’s chosen, and they put me through college - a couple times over. Plus I had to attend all of the Selected lessons. But, Gideon, I couldn’t do it. I have never submitted, not fully, in my whole life. I still don’t understand fully why you chose me for being a Selected, but when faced with my future I knew I couldn’t. I just, couldn’t,” Reid finishes lamely.
Gideon reaches up with his left hand and touches Reid’s arm paternally, “Spencer, you must understand by now how amazing you are. What a catch you are. Your mind…”
“Yes,” Reid cut him off, “my mind. However, that’s it. That is where my list of attributes ends. Well, I suppose other than being a virgin, but in all honesty I don’t even understand what part of that messy and painful act appeals to you people. And, Gideon, that’s just it! When I confronted the Council with my decision their stipulation was that I had to remain pure! It’s the perfect solution. They’re giving me the leash to do what I really wish to do, to work for the BAU. Plus, I now have a Council mandated reason to never go on a date or be forced to submit to some half-wit Dom. Gideon, I really am free. Liberated, if you will,” Reid giggles, giddy at finally being in the presence of the man whom he had dreamed of for years. He’s made it here to Gideon. Eleven years, and the man hasn’t changed a bit. Well, that’s usually how it works for vampires.
Gideon stares deep into Reid’s eyes looking for the truth. “Reid. What are you not saying?”
“Well. The Council would not just let me leave without some sort of babysitter, considering the fact that I’m a human submissive Selected: the weakest of the weak. So,” Reid says looking for the first time today genuinely scared, “they said I was to be in your care. If you agree, obviously. I have the paperwork here,” he trailed off quietly, pointing to his messenger bag. “Gideon, I want to make you proud and…and I think I can be good at this. Really good at this. Just give me a chance.”
Gideon stepps back further from Reid and begins to pace, thinking out loud, “You’ll will most assuredly be an excellent profiler. There is no doubt in my mind. Your mind is a work of art, the knowledge stored there would be invaluable in numerous occasions. However, this job does put a considerable amount of strain on its chosen agents.” Gideon stops pacing and turns to Reid and looks him straight in the eye. “Spencer, I’m not sure that you can emotionally handle it, as an unattached submissive. Look, I just came off a sabbatical, for some of my own…issues. This is a tough profession. It, I guarantee, is not what you have been dreaming of.”
As Reid faces him, setting his shoulders, his earlier submissive body language disappears. “I can handle it.”
Gideon takes a moment, and then slowly nods his agreement. A smile touches his lips as he says, “If anyone can it’s you. Of course, it’s you.”
***
After the initial confrontation, Gideon drops his darker persona like the act it was. His face breaks into a wide grin, and he pulls Reid out of the conference room.
Reid, shaken by the drastic change in attitude looks around warily waiting for the other shoe to drop. However, all he meets is the immediate silence that greets them the minute they step outside the door. Embarrassed, the skinny human tucks his hair behind his ear self consciously while moving his messenger bag in the front of him covering his pelvis, a subconscious defense mechanism. With his eyes directed downwards he misses the first glimpse of the BAU’s team leader until a shadow is cast over his feet. He looks up, worried, and an idle thought of why the FBI has all of the tall, imposing men flits through his head as he sees not only a dark muscled figure wearing a too tight across the front t-shirt, but also the scariest and most attractive man he has ever met. When that thought hits Reid he turns a dark shade of red and uses every ounce of will he has to not direct his gaze toward his laces again.
“Gideon, is everything alright?” the severe man in the obviously FBI regulation suit asks, not taking his eyes off of Reid. As if Reid was some sort of unsub and any sudDen movement would make him draw his weapon, or worse, his fangs.
“Yeah, man, I heard there’s some Council flunky strutting around looking for you,” says the overly muscled black man, while he looks around the bullpen to iDentify the intruder glancing at and ignoring Reid.
“Yes, Hotch, I’m fine. And, Morgan, this,” stepping aside and indicating Reid, “is the so-called ‘Council flunky’ you mentioned. Gentlemen, this is the Selected Dr. Spencer Reid.”
The dark man, Morgan, apparently, just stands dumbfounded, while Hotch stands impassive except for the subtle twitch under his eye when the word Selected was uttered.
“Hi,” Reid manages under the dual gazes with a little wave.
“He’s the newest member of our team.”
Morgan opens his mouth about to question Gideon, but Hotch, with a growl, cuts him off. “Gideon, can we speak in private,” he stated much more than asked.
Gideon nodded and turned to Reid, “I will be right back. Stay here.”
Gideon and Hotch both turn and walk into the nearest office and all Reid hears before the door is slammed shut is, “I don’t like when members of my own team….”
So, Reid stays there, not moving an inch and, as was becoming increasingly normal for him at this point, looks to the ground, still aware of Morgan’s presence.
After a moment or two of silence, Morgan starts pacing and eventually turns to the newcomer asking, “So, wait, are you Gideon’s Selected? Because the way Gideon talks about the Council and the Den, it doesn’t seem likely that they would want to do him a favor as big as granting him you.”
Gideon’s dislike of the Den and its practices are new to Reid. When Reid knew him, years ago, he was much like the man he saw in the conference room: dark, scary, exciting, and fiercely loyal to the Council. He wonders what has changed his mind and his behavior so drastically.
“Um, uh no. No, I wasn’t gifted to anybody. I, uh, well, I left and came to Gideon for a job. This job, obviously.”
Morgan looks a bit relieved at the explanation. “Ok, good. But how do you know Gideon? I mean, he isn’t exactly a cultural icon or politico or anything”
At this Reid averts his gaze, unsure if Gideon has told these people of his past involvement with the Council and the Den. “I knew him from before. He was,um, he was my teacher.” Reid goes for the honest but misleading truth, figuring he is better off safe than sorry.
“Uh huh,” grunts Morgan, obviously not liking his vague response.
They both wait in silence simultaneously hoping for Hotch and Gideon to return to the hallway quickly.
About five minutes later, both men reappear. Hotch locks gazes with Reid in blatant appraisal. “Go round up the team, Morgan. Conference room in five. We have to introduce our new team member.” Hotch says all of this, again, without taking his eyes off of Reid, and Reid, for the second time today, refuses to look away.
***
“Very medieval,” Reid mumbles under his breath looking at the round table that he had missed his first time in this room.
Morgan sits down next to a blond woman, as people start to walk in and take a seat as well. “What is?” Morgan asks.
“This room. The round table is similar to the one from the tale of King Arthur and Camelot. The table represents the equality that even a King has with his subjects, which is obviously meaningful for this team. As I’m certain that it takes each member of the team, all with their own particular insights to solve a case and find an UnSub. Interestingly enough, even through the tale of Arthur and his magical companion was made famous and is most well known from the writing of the Englishman Thomas Mallory in Le Morte d’Arthur, the tale originates well before…”
“Woah, buddy. Never mind,” Morgan says cutting Reid off mid-rant. “Is that gonna happen all the time?”
Before Reid can reply, Hotch clears his throat getting the attention of the six people in the room. “Ok, I know you are all confused as to why I called this meeting when we don’t have a case, so I’ll get right to it. We have a new team member,” Hotch annunciates clearly while pointing to Reid, standing as near as possible to the door, just in case, “Dr. Spencer Reid. Gideon and myself both agree that Dr. Reid will be an asset to the team, and we would like all of you to welcome him.”
The silence is deafening.
The dark haired woman with bangs is the first to speak. “Um, I don’t want to seem rude, honestly, but how old is he?”
Before Hotch can get a word in, Reid responds, making everyone’s head swivel towards him, “21.”
Morgan lets out a muffled chuckle. “Hotch, seriously? He seems, I mean, you seem like a great kid, kid, but you’re barely able to drink let alone profile.” Underneath the table the pink and blond girl kicks Morgan in the shin.
It is Gideon’s turn to chuckle, while Reid just looks downtrodden, having lost his earlier confidence in the face of so many people. “Dr. Reid, where did you attend college?”
Reid looks up, confused but obliging, “California Institute of Technology.” The pink haired woman lets out a surprised gasp.
“What is your doctorate in?”
“To which one are you referring?”
“Ah, so I suppose the better question is, how many doctorates do you have?”
Reid, becoming more confused as each rapid fire question hits him, turns to Gideon and says slowly, as though speaking to a child, “As you are already aware, three. I have three PhD’s in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering. And, I have two B.A.s. One in Sociology and one in Psychology.”
The silence is less deafening and more, well, flabbergasted.
“Reid, are you forgetting anything, as I’m sure you’re about to surmise what I am attempting to do here,” Gideon prompts with an arched eyebrow.
Reid sighs. He hates when people make him list these things. It makes him sound like, in layman’s terms, a freak. It is not that he is interminably proud of his accomplishments. He earned everything he has received, but if these people are supposed to be his co-workers his first impression should not be some kind of laundry list of accomplishments. It’s embarrassing. With a long suffering sigh, “I have an I.Q. of 187 an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words a minutes in not only English but in several languages including Russian and German. Oh, and I suppose I just finished my third B.A. in Philosophy, but I have not yet received the certificate, so that strictly speaking does not apply.”
Gideon smirks, while Hotch just looks vaguely impressed.
The pink-haired woman with the very loud purple and orange dress on is the first to stand and come over to Reid. “Hi, I’m Garcia. You’re gonna
fit in around here just perfect!” she squeals, giving him a hug.
“So you’re a genius, then? Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” laughs Prentiss, getting up to give him a handshake. “Emily Prentiss.”
Reid glances around and notices everyone’s relaxed pose after Garcia had hugged him. Apparently, that was the signal that everything was ok. If this group really takes cues from this eccentric woman, then maybe he finally has found somewhere to belong.
Only, it’s Hotch that is giving him a strange vibe. He did not fully understand why he is being so thoroughly examined by the man on the other side of the room, but figures it had to do with being forced to accept Reid onto his team. This group of profilers seem to function as a family unit, so when a so-called interloper comes into disrupt the previous calm, they must naturally be on alert, or so Reid believes.
***
His first week at the BAU is extremely busy, filled with meetings, learning protocols, and paperwork. Never ending paperwork. It was the next Tuesday when Gideon and he have to appear in front of the Council to formally agree to the arrangement Reid proposed. So, Monday night Garcia, picking up on Reid’s anxiety, tells the team that are all going out for a drink, “even you Special Agent Aaron Grumpner!” Garcia cackles in obvious delight with her witticism. Over the past week Hotch has become more polite to the young man, but never exactly friendly.
Out at The Rusty Nail, a great dive near the FBI building, Garcia places her hand on Morgan’s shoulder as if to direct him to the correct table, which Reid found odd. The type of personality that he sees from Morgan isn’t a submissive one. The group sits down at the large booth with Prentiss and JJ in the middle gossiping about the best way to pick up a Dom at a bar. The argument quickly devolves into a vampire vs. human debate. JJ believes that the best way to attract a Dom is through acting sweet and submissive, because that’s obviously what they’re looking for. No need to mess about if you’re only looking for a one night stand. Prentiss vehemently disagrees.
“That’s the thing with you humans! You always act so passive! If I was out looking for a sub I wouldn’t pick the one with the fluttering lashes! I want to play with someone with fight in them. I want to work for what I get out of ‘em. Believe me; if they’re worth it then I’ll get them there!” JJ laughs out loud at Prentiss’ rant.
“Fair enough,” the media liaison says, ever the diplomat, “you may have a point on how some Doms act, but I don’t think that has anything to do with human or vampire. Now, look at Morgan.”
Morgan, listening to something Garcia is whispering in his ear, turns his head at his name and lifts both hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “Woah, ladies! I have no part in this. I’m just talking to my hot mama. I’m not looking to pick up anyone anymore, thank you,” he finishes laughingly.
Garcia slaps his shoulder and growls playfully, “You better not be.”
JJ, though, keeps on. “I’m not asking you to go pick anyone up, Derek. I’m just using you as an example,” she says with a smile on her lips and turns to face Prentiss with a determined expression. “See, Emily, Morgan here is a human and a submissive. And I have, in the past, seen him attempt to pick up a date or two at bars. He does not use the, as you call it, ‘passive’ approach. He always gets their attention through other means. I mean, used to get their attention through other means. It’s just my personal technique to not be so aggressive. Doesn’t mean it’s a human thing.”
The argument goes on for a while, getting exponentially more outrageous directly proportional to their alcohol consumption. Finally Garcia, who has been on JJ’s side, shouts, “Wait, guys! We have an expert in the group, and he hasn’t given us his opinion, yet! Reid! After all of that training in the Den you have to have some sort of insight!” Garcia looks exceedingly pleased with herself for coming up with this solution.
Reid, who has been having a thoroughly enjoyable time watching this tableau play out in front of him, freezes up when they call for his input.
“Come on, Reid. Be the deciding vote!” laughs a seven shot drunken Morgan. He’s going to feel that in the morning.
Reid looks around for Gideon, but then remembers he left earlier. Getting old, he had said. His eyes alight on Hotch, who sits across from him. Hotch had also seems to have let loose a little throughout the evening - even smiling once. But when the table gets quiet waiting for Reid to
speak, Hotch stiffens as well.
“Well, in my old lessons they would teach us to do whatever our master asked of us. And, there were some Selected who were vampires. So, they at least were told to be less confrontational,” Reid states clearly, quietly looking down in to his amber beer, hoping his team will continue on and leave him out of it.
“What if your Master wanted you to be aggressive?” Hotch speaks up in a low husky voice, as though it’s difficult getting the words out.
It’s as if Reid is trapped by Hotch’s gaze, keeping him from moving until he answers the question. “Then,” Reid says seriously, “you act aggressively.” He sighs deeply. Obviously the group has been waiting a long time to hear what takes place in the Den. “When I was twelve and I was…recruited, so to speak, by the Council, I was headstrong and careless with my words because I was angry. I was angry for plenty of reasons that we don’t need to get into right now, but they saved me from that by showing me how to be a submissive. As much as I’m glad that I’m free from that life, I’m equally glad that I was allowed to take part in such an old and beautiful tradition. They teach you that being submissive does not rest in the Dom or in the whips or the chains, but in the person. It’s the person’s thirst for order and their need to belong that makes them submit. If a submissive doesn’t recognize and embrace these parts of them they can never be at peace in submission. One of my very first teachers is the only person, a human, to bring me down, and I fought her all the way. Every single step. Not because I was trying to be alluring or get her to notice me, but because I didn’t want to give it up. And the truth of the matter is submission is not something a Dom can give. It’s something that a submissive gives, so whether or not there’s a battle before it’s given over or it’s tied in a bow and given freely, it the sub that decides. In conclusion, then, being either a vampire or human has nothing to do with submission; it’s just the person’s choice,”
Reid finishes, looking at Garcia, who had originally asked the question. Trying to lighten the mood he adds, “Although do keep in mind that just because I was taught this subject does not mean that I have any actual experience. You would be better off asking someone who has experienced both human and vampire submission. Sorry guys. However, if you want to hear some Star Trek quotes, I can pull those out!”
Unfortunately the joke falls flat, and the group just stares at him. Prentiss mutters a “wow.” While, Hotch just turns his head away, as if hiding something.
It’s JJ who breaks the silence. “So, sorry Reid, but I’m just trying to be clear, you’ve never been with a Dom…in the biblical sense of ‘been with’?”
Reid chuckles nervously, “No, no of course not. All of the Selected are kept pure for their future owners. However, we’re taught anatomically how to pleasure our masters. That is, after all, the entire point of having a Selected. They’re experts in submission,” he gives a throaty laugh as he thinks of a perfect analogy, “sort of like a hotel room. They’re already set up perfectly to be used as if the occupant was at home, and you wouldn’t have wanted someone else to be living in your hotel room right before you show up, would you?” Reid is confused by the expressions he is seeing. They read disgust or sorrow. Is his team disgusted with him?
Morgan is one of the people with sorrow in his eyes. “Reid, you are much more than a fucking unused hotel room.” He speaks so earnestly that Reid, although not worried about being perceived as an unused hotel room, is touched by the care and concern his teammates are showing him.
“Thank you, Morgan, but I wasn’t ever really worried about it. I know who I am,” Reid pauses, looking everybody at the table in their eye. When he reaches Hotch, the look is so intense he blushes. “I’m a part of this team.”
Garcia’s face lights up and raises her drink, “I’ll drink to that!”
Ctd. in Part II