The Other Side, Part VII Criminal Minds Big Bang
Hotch stares out his window into the harsh glare of the sun, and has thoughts of their recent case flitting through his mind. Spaced in between are glimpses of needles, sunken eyes, red smudges, and a brilliant smile. He tries, desperately, to get Reid out of his head; he has paperwork to complete. Shaking his head, as if the movement would throw the images out, the vampire returns his focus to documents in his hand.
Once again his concentration is broken, but this time because of a knock. “Come in,” Hotch says tiredly.
“Hotch, can I have a minute,” Prentiss asks while simultaneously closing the door and the blinds. Apparently, Hotch thought, amused, she isn’t actually looking for an answer.
“Why, yes, do please come in. Make yourself at home,” Hotch states grandly, voice full of sarcasm.
Prentiss stops at Hotch’s tone and tilts her head, as if hard of hearing. Her hands come to rest on top of the chair facing Hotch, and she bends forward. “Have you heard yourself? Do you know what is going on out there?” she asks, her words sharp, as her hand flies up to indicate the bullpen. “They’re despondent, and you aren’t helping with that attitude! Look, Hotch, we all miss Reid, and all want him back. But, we are still a team; we still have to be a team. Garcia and Morgan won’t look at each other anymore. JJ sits in her office pretending she isn’t crying, and you! You just sit up here in goddamn tower not talking to anyone. I get it. You love ‘im.” Hotch, shocked to silence by her outburst, and opens his mouth to make a quick denial. “Oh, shut it. We all know. Everyone. Even Gideon, I’m sure of it. So no use denying it. This is why I let you have your mourning period, but it ends now. The team is falling apart, and you need to pick up the slack. That is your job.” By this point, Prentiss has stalked around Hotch’s desk in order to tower above him while he sits in his leather chair. “Understood?”
Looking supremely guilty, Hotch nods, and steels his expression, standing. “Yes. I’m, well, I’m ready. We need to be able to work as a team now.”
Prentiss smiles and steps back assuming a more submissive posture. “Great. Oh, speaking of Reid, I have heard word of some sort of party. Want to look into it with me?”
***
Lying on his front with his long legs bent at the knees allowing his feet to sway high in the air, Spencer feels a wee bit silly. He is reading a book, with his head in his hands looking down at the ground where the book rests. If asked, Spencer would say that he absolutely does not in the least feel like a fifteen year-old girl reading a teen-pop magazine. However, he’s forced into the position because it is the only one that gives his ass some relief. Spencer spends his free time reading books on natural science and botany for hours on end in Chilcott’s extensive library, so he doesn’t want to be doing in through pain.
Spencer has not spent three weeks with Chilcott in his new life, and he knows for certain that no one is coming for him. Not that he ever actually thought someone from his old life would care enough break the law for him. Spencer doesn’t doubt that his old team cared for him in their own way, but he is better off where he is. He is positive that that is how his situation was explained to them, so why would they come for him? He did, he admits, hold out a slight hope for a fairytale ending, but he has come to the realization that this is his life.
Spencer no longer has anything to offer Hotch or any other Dom, or, you know, Hotch. Being a used Selected? It isn’t exactly like being a used car. The Select automatically devalue the moment they are no longer virgins, as much as the luxury 2012 Mercedes-Benz E Class becomes a 1992 Pontiac Bonneville. To say the least, it doesn’t look good. A rejected Selected is sort of like a leper to the vampire community. So, after weighing his options, Spencer comes to conclusion that there is really one viable choice.
“Boy! There you are. Why do you always hide in this wretched place?” Chilcott sweeps into the library surrounded by a small posse of vampires and humans alike. They are his party planners, apparently. The collaring ceremony has become not so much about the actual intimate and beautiful act of bloodletting and collaring, but instead the party of the century. The main party planner, a female vampire, wearing a smart dark gray business skirt, tries to interrupt and hurry Chilcott along.
“Get out! Get out, now! I want to spend time with my Selected! Is that understood?”
The woman put her hand up to her hair that was harshly pulled back into a bun and smoothed down an invisible bump. “Of course, sir. We will be right outside.”
Chilcott sighs and walks over to where a naked Spencer is laying on the ground. “Boy. Kneel.”
Spencer scurries into the correct position in front of his master, his book lying forgotten next to him.
“This will be the social event of the season, and you will be center stage. I will be extremely, “ he says saccharinely, while his hand grazes Spencer’s chin, “pleased with you if you do not embarrass me. I assume, from all of your lessons, that you know how to obey commands. You have done adequately thus far, boy. But under no circumstances are you to deviate from my plan.” A loud slap echoes in the cavernous room. Spencer doesn’t blink, but the sting makes his eyes water as a red mark blossoms on his check. “You will behave, Boy. Or else you will be whipped until your skin blisters and peels from your body.”
Spencer, although naked, has not felt cold in the room until that moment. He begins to shake slightly.
“Yes. Master.”
“Excellent,” Chilcott bellows jovially. “Well, we are both on a tight schedule, and tonight, my boy, I will take what is rightfully mine.”
***
The flight back to civilization in the helicopter isn’t as bad as the trip away. Spencer isn’t quite sure if that was because it’s finally getting close to his moment, or whether it’s merely his headspace. Before they left, Chilcott had an hour-long session with the human, and Spencer is so deep into subspace that anything commanded of him by anyone would be carried out without a second thought, exactly as Chilcott wants him.
Now, though, he is forced to remain standing alone in a dark closet, where he has been left. He was put in to clothes when he got into the building because Chilcott said he doesn’t want anybody to get a sneak preview. Reid is thankful for the pockets, as his hand twitches against the small, hard bump in his side left pocket.
He hears screams and frantic clicking of heels on the marble floor outside of the small room in which he was enclosed. The preparations for Chilcott’s party are in full swing.
***
Prentiss is wearing one of her old black ball gowns that her mother provided her with years ago. It is a black strapless bustier adorned with a series of elaborate knots in the front and a straight long skirt to offset the complicated top. She waits outside the Council’s mansion for her “date.” With Ambassador Prentiss’ help the whole team was able to get an invite, so they all broke into pairs enabling them to attend under the radar. Hotch with Strauss, Garcia with Morgan, and Prentiss with....
Holy shit. If Prentiss could breathe she would have just gotten it knocked out of her. JJ is clumsily scurrying down the street towards the red carpet that leads into the mansion. Her shoe has gotten caught on a crack in the road, and she is jumping forward while simultaneously attempting to put the strap back around her heel. She is stunning.
Half of her long shining hair is pulled back, while the rest of it is falling with lazy curls around her shoulders. She is wearing a satin dark maroon dress, which matches her lipstick. The dress has low across the back straps which come up around the outsides of her shoulders. The rest of the dress looks painted on, except for the full skirt, which shimmers and moves when she walks. Prentiss can’t take her eyes off of her.
JJ finally makes it to Prentiss and gives a big sigh, pushing away a strand of hair caught in her eyelashes. “Whew! I thought I was gonna be late! Ha! Ok, ready?” And with that JJ begins her walk down the red carpet; it takes Prentiss a few moments to follow.
***
The party is in full swing, announces Chilcott when he returns to the closet he had stuffed Spencer into. Chilcott has obviously been drinking; he is much too jolly. Not to mention the slight red stains on the corner of his mouth - bloodtini. Even though alcohol may make his demeanor more jolly, it makes Chilcott much more mean and careless. He opens the closet with a laugh and then tugs Spencer’s lanky body out, throwing it to the ground.
“You’re such a slight thing, whore! It’s a miracle you were able to stand for the past four hours! I figured your legs would’a snapped!” He laughs uproariously with his small posse of now only vampires. He jokingly whispers, “Ya think he’s even got enough blood in ‘im for a man like me?” Laughter sounds again.
He stops when he is reminded of the party by the sounds of strong music and polite laughter reaching his ears. “Strip, Boy. What’a you doing lying down on the job? Look, you kneel here and stay put. I have to go get dressed.”
Chilcott walks down the hall and makes a left towards his private rooms. The rest of his posse stands making small talk ignoring Spencer completely. The image itself is particularly peculiar for Spencer; here he is a naked, scared witless, human, kneeling, surrounded by six elaborately dressed vampires who are not so much as noticing him; as a matter of fact, they don’t even spare him a glance. If Spencer were in a mindset to try to understand the dynamics within the group Chilcott surrounds himself with, he would quickly realize that his powers of persuasion are limited to human subs. Unfortunately, though, fear is just one substance flowing through his veins limiting his ability to properly think. His only thought is obey. Just obey.
***
The party has been growing for the past hour, so that the large, dramatically decorated ballroom is bursting with people. A platform takes up center stage within the room, and everyone’s eyes automatically flick to the empty raised area repeatedly, all anxiously waiting for the action to begin. The same is true for the tuxedo-clad Morgan; however, the motives for his anxiety are slightly different than the majority of the crowd.
Garcia comes up behind him and squeezes his hand in a show of understanding, and both of them let of a gasp when the lights dim, and a spotlight hits the stage.
On the stage are a pedestal with a closed jewelry box and a post with chains attached. Morgan’s eyes search the crowd for Hotch, hoping to reach him before Reid enters the room….
There is a collective gasp when Chilcott enters the room clad in a pair of leather pants and a loose white satin shirt, behind him walks a sedate and naked Reid, the usual five paces behind.
Garcia growls trying to move in front of Morgan, but he holds back his love. It is only when he gets a glimpse of the red whip marks on Reid’s back that his hold loosens in shock.
***
Spencer keeps his head down. Eyes to the floor. Obey, just obey. Once, before kneeling on the stage, he clenches and unclenches his hand; it’s the only signal of his anxiety.
Chilcott walks in front of him, trailing his fingers across Spencer’s back, over the four day-old welts. Spencer holds back a snicker at his Master’s garb. Really, he thinks, can the man look any more like a pirate? He seriously has seen Pirates of the Caribbean too many times.
His thoughts are interrupted by Chilcott’s introductory words: “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. This is the moment you have all been waiting for. I will finally take my rightful place among the elite few who can claim to have a collared Selected. This is my boy, isn’t that right, Spencer?”
Spencer knows his line. “Yes, Master.”
“And you, Spencer William Reid, are willingly giving your body and life to me, Supreme Councilor Warner Benedict Chilcott, in full faith?”
Again, just obey. “Yes, Master.”
“It is, then, your wish to accept my collar in front of all of these witnesses to properly and fully become mine in the eyes of the law?”
Just obey, please, just obey. He bites his tongue. “Yes, Master.”
“Excellent!” Chilcott says with a laugh, “I wasn’t actually that worried, though.” The crowd laughs jovially, not recognizing the uncomfortable tension consuming the room.
Chilcott with a steely determination walks to the pedestal and opens the case. Inside is a collar, deep black leather, intertwined with large gold links connecting it to a nameplate with the word “Whore” engraved. Chilcott picks it up and carries it slowly over to Spencer. He bends at his waist to whisper in Spencer’s ear, just as he did in the Council’s dungeon, “I went with Whore instead of Boy. I thought it more….fitting. Wouldn’t you say?”
Spencer breathes in sharply, straining his neck tendons. Chilcott lowers the collar, and when it clicks, sealing Spencer and Chilcott’s fate, Spencer’s head falls forward.
***
His heart breaks with every “Yes, Master.” Hotch is unknowingly, slowly moving forward towards the platform, as if getting closer to the action will change what is happening, just as a person with bad eyesight will bring the newspaper closer to their face to make out the lettering.
When the collar clicks into place, Hotch stops as if shot. It is Reid’s final response to Chilcott that puts the nail in Chilcott’s coffin.
“To whom, Whore, do you belong?”
“You, Master. Only you.”
Hotch growls and is about to step forward to stake his claim, when his shoulders are grabbed by not only Prentiss but JJ as well. He could easily shake off JJ, but Hotch knows that the likelihood of beating Prentiss and then beating Chilcott is not good. He snorts and, fangs drawn, subsides in their grip with a sigh.
“Yes, my Boy, yes. Now it is time for you to give me what I have been waiting for so patiently. Stand.”
Reid stands, the collar shifting on his neck. Directed by Chilcott he walks to the post, and is prematurely pushed up against the wood.
***
The minute the collar is placed on him, Spencer knows what he has to do. This is his choice. He is in control.
Answer the question. “You, Master. Only you.”
Move. His hand begins to shake. This must happen quickly, or else all his plans will be for naught.
Instead of being chained to the post, Chilcott is too caught up in his bloodlust and just uses the post as leverage to pull Spencer’s head to the side, exposing the pulsing tendons.
His cold nose and tongue touch his neck first, and he shivers. He thinks he hears a noise from the crowd, but his blood is pumping too loudly in his ears. Do it. Do it!
The pain is intense. It isn’t sensual, orgasmic, or intimate as his old teachers led him to believe. He blinks back tears that leak out anyway, and gasps as the fangs penetrate the junction of his neck and shoulder. The wretched collar is pushed against the top of his long, pale neck, and squished against the vampire’s cheek.
After a long beat, Spencer feels weak-kneed, and Chilcott pulls off, blood dripping down his chin. He looks surprised, “What did…”
“CHILCOTT!” the bellow interrupts the solemn scene.
Spencer moves his head to identify the man interrupting his choice. He was in control, and this man took it…Hotch. Spencer gasps and falls to his knees. His eyes, unseeing, are stuck on Hotch’s face. He whispers to himself, “No, you can’t be here. I had a plan. A good plan. You’re not in the plan. Well, you’re in the plan away. The away plan, yes. He can’t, he can’t….”
***
Hotch is trying to stay still and stick to the team’s plan. They are to, after the collaring, bring a charge of involuntary collaring against Chilcott. It is all planned out. Garcia has plenty of video of the abduction all those weeks ago to prove to the Council that Chilcott acted illegally. However, the problem is that Reid must first be collared for them to press the charges and get him released; a catch-22, of sorts. Goddamnit, he fucking hates that book.
There is a constant growl emanating from his throat, while JJ and Prentiss hold him. The people around them, humans and vampires alike, are looking over worriedly. When the scent of fresh blood hit the air, however, Hotch couldn’t contain himself. He struggles with both of his subordinates, until he throws them off and charges the stage, yelling for Chilcott.
“Reid is mine, Warner. Get your corrupt hands off of him!”
Chilcott, wiping his arm against the blood on his face, didn’t even spare a glance for the panicked Reid on the ground, and responds, “Oh, Hotchner. How adorable it is to see you again. The last time you were in the Council’s presence you were extolling the virtue of your slut new-born. What was her name again? Yes, Hilary, HaleyHale something like that.”
Hotch’s growl shut Chilcott up for the moment, allowing Hotch the time to respond, “Leave the past where it belongs. In the past. That was two hundred years ago, and even then kidnapping a human and then brainwashing him into agreeing to your collar was considered uncouth, you evil bastard.”
The crowd has been shocked, but they had not been afraid for their own safety. Just good gossip, but at Hotch’s accusation the crowd takes a collective step back, understanding that their gossip maybe turned into a fight to the death.
Chilcott, however, laughs it off. “I’m not quite sure what you mean. If this is because when my Whore was working for you, you let off a little steam using him around the office, it’s not….”
When the word “whore” leaves Chilcott’s mouth, Hotch loses all his self-control. With a roar, Hotch, fangs drawn, charges the older vampire.
He tackles Chilcott off the platform into the crowd. For their part, the crowd moves with a practiced ease, instinctively knowing where the two vampires are headed; they have obviously seen a few fights in their day. However, a large portion of the crowd flees the premises, fearful of another challenge.
Hotch gets up with unnatural grace and swiftly kicks his leg into the Chilcott’s side. Chilcott grabs the retreating leg and harshly twists it forcing Hotch to fall, while the councilor used the leverage to stand up. Their roles reversed, Hotch quickly rolls away and stands. They circle each other, for a few moments, until Hotch again feels he has an opening, and charges towards Reid’s Master.
Chilcott’s head snaps back at the impact of Hotch’s fist, and the older vampire stumbles. Blood begins to stream down his face, mixing with the dried blood of his Selected. A punch like that, with that much strength behind it, would have been fatal to a human, but for a vampire it’s just a broken nose. However, Chilcott has difficulty finding his balance after the strike, leaving him vulnerable, and Hotch grabs the opportunity.
Reaching down to where he always keeps his smaller firearm, on his left leg, under his pants, he pulls out a wooden stake. He had secreted it there earlier, knowing that in all likelihood the team’s plan would never be put into effect; he praises his earlier forethought. In one movement he grabs the stake and launches himself at Chilcott, who is stumbling around unfocused.
The wooden stake pierces the vampire’s chest, and he collapses slack-jawed. With the wooden stake sticking out of him, the old vampire explodes. There, on the marbled ground representing all of his supposed power, Warner Chilcott dies for the second time in four hundred years, his bloody remnants stand out darkly amongst the crystal and gold.
A yell goes up in the ballroom, and the rest of the vampires and humans alike flee from the ballroom leaving only a few bewildered guards, what is left of the Council, and the entirety of the BAU team.
They all stand, wary, unsure of the next move. The only sound is coming from the platform. Reid. He is still curled up near the post rocking back and forth, staring at the bloodied mess that used to be his Master.
***
Holy shit, he came for me, he came for me. Whore. He fought for me. Used. Why? Why now? Just a slut. After everything, I’m…I have to go?
Spencer sits on that platform with so many thoughts and voices in his head, he assumes that this is how his mother feels. In the silence, Spencer jerkily gets up and stumbles forward.
Hotch, leaving Chilcott’s mess on the ground, runs forward and grabs Reid by his arms. Hotch is feeling a top space he hasn’t felt for years. He killed for his own. He owns this man.
Hotch yanks Reid to him in a hug that looks more like a possession. Hotch sticks his nose into Reid neck and takes a long whiff. Hotch is flying, and so yells out to the room, staking his claim, “Spencer is mine!”
Hotch stiffens when a person enters his domain, but JJ steadily advances with her hands raised. Hotch knows JJ isn’t a threat, but he’s still on edge. JJ hands him a pair of scrubs, whispering, “For Reid, I brought them in case we found him, uh, well, you know.” She nods at them, and Hotch takes them with a huff.
He turns to Reid and hastily attempts to fit Reid into the pair of pants, trying to hide his body from the staring crowd. Reid is still too numb to understand exactly what is going on, his eyes still focused on Chilcott’s remains.
Hotch, when trying to put on the shirt remembers the disgusting, gaudy collar and goes to work trying to rip it off, carefully not hurting Reid. However, once he takes off the collar, Hotch has the overwhelming urge to properly claim Reid as his. People could come for him again. He has to do it now! The more he thinks about it the more worked up he becomes.
“I love you, Spencer,” Hotch whispers in the lithe human’s ear. He bends his head to the other side of Reid’s neck that hasn’t been mauled and widens his jaw to take a bite, when Reid comes back to life. He pushes Hotch off of him. Hotch snarls, wanting his mate to behave.
“No,” Reid says shakily. “I don’t want you to claim me. Anyone to claim me. I don’t…I can’t.” He picks up his head and looks in the direction of Hotch. He shakes his head, his hair falling into his face, and whispers, “Sorry.” Then, he runs.
He tears through the obscenely ornate archways, and blazes past the Council’s chambers, past the stairs leading to the dungeon, and past his small closet where he stood and shot up only hours ago. He finally finds himself in the Vampiric Archives and Library. With sudden clarity, he knows what he has to do. He starts frantically running through the library tearing at books, reading a few pages at his usual hyper-speed and then tossing them aside, deeming them useless.
***
It’s Morgan who first reaches Spencer.
He rushes into the room and makes a full stop just watching the manic Reid. He approaches Reid, his hands up trying to calm him, “Spencer, are you ok?” Morgan assumes that Reid is just upset, so he tries to placate him. “We never gave up on you, pretty boy. We kept looking for you and we never stopped wanting you to return. Just, I just need you to talk to me, ok?”
At that, Reid turns to face Morgan, his eyes bulging and the only piece of clothing, the scrub pants, had large wet patches. Sweat is beading on his forehead, and he self-consciously wipes at it, returning to his hunt.
“Hotch,” Morgan tries again. “He never gave up on you. He practically never went home, never ate, and just called in every favor owed to him. He loves you Spencer, maybe you should…” Morgan breaks off when he hears Reid let out a low wail. He steps closer to Reid and sees that he is crying over a pile of books. Reid opens his mouth and mumbles something through his tears, but Morgan can’t understand him. “Reid, I don’t…”
“He poisoned himself,” a voice says walking out of the shadows by the door. Hotch has spent the past two months angry and sad and heartbroken, but Morgan has never seen him like this. Hotch is destroyed and hopeless.
With the words out in the open it seems as though a dam breaks within Reid. “I’m, I’m so sorry, but I didn’t think you guys would come, and I couldn’t be with…he was horrible. I had to find a way out, and this was it. I remembered that case from when I first….”
Hotch walks over during Reid’s tirade, and finally kneels down next to him. He puts his hand on Reid’s bare back, and says, “I know, it’s ok. I’m proud of you, Reid.”
Reid perks up at the sound of praise, which give him the confidence to further explain, “If I can just find an antidote for the Morteous poison, I’m sure it’s here in one of the Council’s books!” Reid makes to stand up and continue his search, but Hotch pulls his back down.
“Reid, we need to take you to the hospital. Now. When did you administer the poison? How long ago?” He shakes Reid when he doesn’t immediately answer. Hotch is kneeling on the ground with Reid draped over him. Reid’s hair is sticking to his face because he is sweating so profusely. Hotch’s tuxedo is forever ruined with blood stains and rips; he even lost a whole sleeve. Hotch raises his bare arm to pet the side of Reid’s face. Reid instinctively leans into him. Hotch whispers, “How long ago, Spencer?”
“40 minutes or so. I do love…” Reid can’t finish his sentence, and his world goes black.
Ctd. in Part VIII