Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a normal day for the BAU in Quantico, Virginia.

Spencer Reid had been the first one to arrive, of course. Some would speculate that he simply hadn’t left the building since last night, which wouldn’t have been unusual.

The whole team got there, one after the other. They all sat at their desks and started working on the files they had to read, fill and review. Hotch was in his office and Morgan had slipped a few of his files in Reid’s pile, which still wasn’t unusual.

Spencer got three cups of coffee in the span of two hours, which wasn’t unusual either, though a bit concerning.

There was nothing unusual, and it was a normal day for the BAU in Quantico, Virginia.

Well, it had started as one, at least.

Hotch came out of his office, a folder in hands, drawing the attention on him.

“We’ve got a case, meet up in the conference room.”

The team groaned, sighed, and complained. They had come back from a case the week prior, and they were all still tired from the lack of sleep and the ongoing stress that came with each investigation.

“Here we go again,” Morgan said, yawning.

Reid grabbed another cup of coffee before going in the conference room, his messenger bag on his side, rubbing his eyes that were underlined by deep, dark circles. Despise what the others thought, he had, in fact, gone back home last night. But that didn’t mean he had managed to sleep.

“Three bodies have been found in a lake, not far from Punta Gorda, Florida.” JJ said, standing next to the screen, a remote in hand, as everyone sat around the round table.

And, indeed, as the slide changed, three bodies appeared. They had obviously been damaged by water, and all of them still wore clothes.

“Elliott Sanders, nineteen years old, his girlfriend Nancy Mikelson, also nineteen years old, and his ten years old little brother, Marcus Sanders,” JJ announced.

“What happened ?” Rossi asked.

“According to the family, Elliott was supposed to babysit his brother at home, but when the parents came home they were both gone. Search parties were organized and they discovered the bodies three days later, along with Nancy’s body.”

“What’s the cause of death ?” Prentiss asked.

“Drowning,” Hotch answered.

“How could they have drowned ?” Reid intervened. “That lake is not even that deep, I’m pretty sure anyone who knows how to swim wouldn’t drown.”

“That’s why we were called in,” Hotch replied. “None of them have marks showing that they may have been restrained.”

“Although, Marcus does have marks on the top of his head, but the autopsy report hasn’t come in yet, so we don’t know what they are exactly.”

The room was silent for a moment, until Prentiss asked the question everyone had on the tip of their tongue :

“Are we sure these are murders ? I mean, they could have just drowned.”

“In a lake like this one ?” Reid said, straightening in his seat. “I doubt they simply drowned. Someone may have drugged them or forced their heads under the water.”

Hotch got up, looking at them all :

“Anyway, wheels up in thirty.”

He left the room, and the others followed shortly after.

*

When they landed, Prentiss and Rossi went to talk to the Sanders family while JJ and Hotch settled in at the police station. As for Morgan and Reid, they went to the morgue to hear the coroner’s report.

“We’re very sorry for your loss, Mr Sanders,” Prentiss started, sat on the couch in a suburban house.

Mr Sanders was facing her, sat on the other couch, with teary eyes and grey dishevelled hair while Rossi was standing a bit apart, looking at family pictures on the wall.

“Do you have any idea of what could have happened ?”

Mr Sanders shook his head slowly, looking at his feet.

“Why did they even get out of the house ?” he asked, more to himself than to Prentiss.

“Well, someone may have taken them directly from here, but since there was no sign of forced entry, we will need you to make a list of the people who may have had access to the keys of your house.”

Mr Sanders nodded, sniffing.

“I’ll make one with my wife this afternoon,” he said. “She’s in bed, I don’t know if she’s sleeping or crying.”

Prentiss looked at him compassionately.

“Do you know why Elliott’s girlfriend could have been with them ?” she asked.

“She’s often at home,” Mr Sanders replied. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she came by every time we left Elliott and Marcus on their own.”

“Would you say your sons were close ?”

“Yes, they, um…” Mr Sanders looked at the pictures Rossi was admiring. “Considering they are nine years apart, I would say they are, yes. I mean, were.” He broke down, burying his face in his hands. “Oh god.”

Prentiss clenched her jaw and looked at Rossi, silently asking for a little bit of help.

“We know this is hard, but we need you to tell us anything that could be relevant.”

After a long minute, Mr Sanders managed to calm down enough to speak.

“They were very close, indeed,” he said. “Whenever Elliott went, Marcus wanted to go too. Elliot would often take him to the movie theatre, or the park…”

“Could it have been possible that the three of them would have gone to the lake by themselves ?” Rossi asked.

Mr Sanders shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “We shouldn’t have left them.”

“This is not your fault,” Prentiss reassured him, bending towards him and glancing at Rossi. “Accidents happen, Mr Sanders.”

“Accidents ?” the man repeated, shooting a death glare at Prentiss, who sat back in her seat. “This wasn’t an accident, someone killed my sons !”

Rossi spoke :

“Sir, you have to understand that we need to consider all possibi-”

“My sons didn’t just drown in a stupid lake !” Mr Sanders interrupted him, all sadness gone, replaced by anger. “They knew how to swim, and it was way too cold for them to have gotten in the water willingly. Someone killed them !”

He was almost shouting now, and stood up.

“I want you to leave my house.”

“Mr Sanders…” Prentiss tried, standing up as well.”

“Get out.”

Prentiss and Rossi glanced at each other before leaving.

*

“That’s funny, you’re the second team of agents to come for these ME’s reports today,” the coroner said as Morgan and Reid walked in.

“Second ?” Morgan asked, intrigued.

“Yes, two men already came, but I don’t mind saying it all over again,” the woman quickly added, three files in hand. “It’s not every day I get to work with the FBI,” she said, lower.

Morgan nodded, before looking at Reid and raising an eyebrow. Reid simply shrugged. He was too tired to ask himself why another team of FBI agents would investigate this case.

“They probably all died approximately at the same time, even though we can’t be sure of anything because of the water,” the woman said, uncovering the first body – Elliott’s.

“As you can see, there are no ligature marks, or anything implying they have been restrained. The cause of death was drowning, and the toxicity reports came clean.”

“So they weren’t drugged…” Reid said to himself. “Could their heads have been forced under the water ?”

“Well, technically yes, but in that case the victims would probably have defended themselves. However, I couldn’t find anything under their nails – which could be due to the water – but their nails and hands are also all in perfect state,” the coroner said, uncovering Nancy’s body. “If they had, indeed, defended themselves against someone applying pressure on their head, Nancy’s pretty manicure here” she showed the teen’s flawless painted nails “would have at least been damaged a little.”

“That’s odd,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, that’s odd,” Morgan repeated. “What about the marks on Marcus’ head ?” he then asked, remembering what JJ had told them back at Quantico.

The coroner went to the table where Marcus’ body was laid down and uncovered him as well, letting see a few marks on the boy’s head.

“We found hairs under Marcus nails, by the way,” the coroner said. “But they were his, so I didn’t write it in the report.”

“It looks like he snatched a few strands of his own hair,” Reid remarked, bending over the boy.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” the coroner said, smiling.

“Why would he do that ?” Morgan asked.

“No idea,” Reid whispered.

*

Reid and Morgan were then sent to the discovery site.

As they walked towards the lake, they saw the yellow banners and police officers.

They showed their badge and Morgan held the banner over both of their head. As they walked away, one police officer said :

“Two of your buddies are already there, are four agents really necessary ?”

This time, it was Reid who asked :

“Two of our buddies ? But all the others are at the police station.”

Morgan frowned because, as they approached the exact place where the bodies had been found, there was indeed two men in suits already there.

“What the hell ?” Morgan whispered before adding, louder : “Hey, what are you doing here ?”

The men turned around - they were both white. One of them was tall – taller than both Reid and Morgan – with brown hair that reached his shoulders, while the other one was shorter, with light, short hair.

“We’re FBI, Sir”, the taller one said, getting a badge out of his pocket and showing it briefly to Morgan and Reid, who hadn’t been that confused in a long time. “This is a federal investigation, and we’d appreciate it if you could go away.”

“We know this is a federal investigation,” Reid replied, getting his own badge out. “We’re FBI too.”

“You don’t look like FBI to me,” the shorter one said, raising an eyebrow.

Morgan got his badge out as well.

“Just because we don’t run around in suits and ties doesn’t mean we’re not FBI,” he said. “What unit are you even from ?”

“S-special unit,” the taller one stuttered, his eyes jumping from Reid, to Morgan, and to finally land on Reid again.

“Which one are you from ?” the shorter one asked, taking a step towards them.

“We’re with the BAU,” Reid answered, not getting his eyes off of the taller one’s. “Behavioural analysis unit.”

“There must have been a mistake here,” the brown-haired one said, finally breaking eye-contact with Reid. “We’ll call our boss – we probably have been assigned this case by error.”

The shorter one gave his partner a strange look, like he didn’t want to do that.

“Yeah, sorry to have disturbed you,” he said anyway, and they both left.

After a few minutes, when the two other agents were far enough that they couldn’t hear them, Morgan turned to Reid :

“What the hell was that ?”

“I don’t know,” Reid replied. “But that was odd.”

*

When Sam and Dean Winchester had gotten out of bed this morning, planning to investigate on the three people who had mysteriously drowned in a lake, they thought nothing would be unusual about this hunt.

With a little bit of research, they had found out that six people had drowned in this lake over the past fifty years, without counting the three new victims. The first one’s spirit was probably haunting this location, but they had made sure that these were not just regular drowning by going to the coroner’s office first.

Here, the lady had told them that there was nothing indicating that someone had physically pushed their head under the water, but that it was very unlikely that they would have drowned by themselves, thus reinforcing their theory about a vengeful spirit.

“By all hazard, have you found any trace of sulfur on the victim’s clothes ?” Dean had asked, just to be sure.

“That’s one of the weirdest question anyone ever asked me,” the women had answered, “but no, no sulfur.”

They had thanked her, and had then decided to go to the lake, where the bodies had been discovered, hoping to find sulfur here, or at least something to back up the vengeful spirit theory.

They were now walking around the lake, looking for anything out of the ordinary : sulfur, weird item, the ghost itself, anything.

What they didn’t expect were the two men walking towards them :

“Hey, what are you doing here ?”

Sam and Dean turned around, discovering a black man with sunglasses, wearing denim trousers and a dark, plain t-shirt with short sleeves. A bit behind him was walking a pale man, who looked too tired to be here. His long hair – approximately the same length as Sam’s, maybe a little longer – were dishevelled, and he had a messenger bag by his side.

“We’re FBI, Sir,” Sam answered to the black man. “This is a federal investigation, and we’d appreciate it if you could go away.”

The pale one went next to the other and got something out of his pocket. He showed Sam a badge – an FBI badge – before saying :

“We know this is a federal investigation. We’re FBI too.”

Sam looked him up and down. He barely had time to read the agent’s name before the badge was put back in his pocket. SSA Spencer Reid. This kid seemed too young to even be in the FBI.

“You don’t look like FBI to me,” Dean said, and Sam knew by his tone that his big brother was raising an eyebrow.

The man who was only wearing jeans and a shirt got a badge out as well and displayed it in front of him. SSA Derek Morgan.

“Just because we don’t run around in suits and ties doesn’t mean we’re not FBI,” he said. “What unit are you even from ?”

Sam looked at the young one, agent Reid, then at the other, and then back at agent Reid.

“S-special unit,” he stuttered.

What was happening ? Why did he find it hard to swallow his saliva, all of a sudden ?

“Which one are you from ?” Dean asked next to him, walking towards the real FBI agents.

Sam was still looking at agent Reid, who looked like he hadn’t slept in several day. He was wearing a shirt and tie underneath a grey sweater vest, and held his messenger bag firmly. He looked at Sam, locking their eyes.

“We’re with the BAU,” he answered, not getting his eyes off of Sam’s. “Behavioural analysis unit.”

Sam finally broke off eye-contact, glancing at Dean, and said :

“There must have been a mistake here. We’ll call our boss – we probably have been assigned this case by error.”

Dean looked at him, intrigued, and Sam could almost hear his voice :

What are you doing ? We need to be here !

“Yeah,” Dean said in the end, “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

As they left, Dean turned to Sam :

“Great work, Sammy,” his tone was annoyed, almost harsh. “What are we going to do now ?”

Sam opened his mouth for a second. He could not believe Dean was acting like this.

“What did you want me to do ?” he replied. “This was the real FBI, Dean. They have ways to discover we are not FBI, if they want to.”

Dean groaned, faking a smile to the police officers as they walked away, towards the Impala.

“What’s the matter with you, anyway ?” Dean asked as he opened the driver’s door.

Sam sat in the passenger seat, and they both slammed their doors shut.

“What are you talking about ?”

Dean started the car, looking at him deadpan.

“You wouldn’t stop staring at that lanky FBI agent.”

Sam frowned and opened his mouth, offended somehow. He didn’t know what offended him, really. Was it because of what Dean was implying, with his raised eyebrows and his refrained smile ? Was it because Dean wouldn’t stop criticizing everything he did, those days ? Was it because he had described agent Spencer Reid as that lanky FBI agent ?

“Well,” Sam started, swallowing hard. “He looked a bit tired, it… intrigued me.”

The tires screeched on the concrete as they took off, driving to the hotel where they had rented a room.

“Tired ?” Dean scoffed. “The poor kid looked like he just got un-buried.”

“Hey !” Sam protested. “That’s not nice. Have you even looked at us recently ? We probably look even more exhausted.”

Dean rolled his eyes, turning the radio on.

“Since when are we nice ?”

Chapter Text

When Morgan and Reid came back from the discovery site, they talked to Hotch about the other FBI agents they had encountered there :

“Does that kind of thing often happen ?” Morgan asked after they explained everything.

“Not really,” Hotch answered, crossing his arms. He was frowning, and clearly confused. “What were their names again ?”

“Agent Jimmy Page and Robert Plant,” Reid answered immediately, having unintentionally memorized the names.

“Why are you talking about Led Zeppelin ?” Prentiss asked, entering the room with four coffees in her hands, handing three of them to her colleagues.

Morgan turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

“What ?”

“Jimmy Page and Robert Plant,” Prentiss repeated. “They are the guitarist and singer of Led Zeppelin.”

Reid and Morgan looked at Hotch.

“Is there something I’m missing here ?” Prentiss asked, sipping her own coffee.

Morgan told her about the two FBI agents.

“Well,” she said, tilting her head. “That’s a hell of a coincidence.”

“Yeah, too much of a coincidence to not be suspicious,” Hotch said, bringing his coffee mug to his mouth. “I’ll ask Garcia about them but, for now, I think it’s time to head back to the hotel.”

Reid looked at his watch.

“It’s barely four PM.”

“I don’t think we will learn anything new today,” Hotch admitted.

“Yep,” Rossi said, appearing in the doorway. “There’s nothing screaming ‘serial killer’ about this case to me.”

Hotch stayed silent, pinching his lips, and Reid thought that there was, indeed, nothing unusual about these deaths.

And he couldn’t have been more wrong.

*

When they got to the hotel, Reid was very surprised to recognize the black Chevrolet Impala in the parking lot. He could have sworn he had seen it before.

“Wasn’t that car at the lake this afternoon ?” Morgan asked, pointing to the old car, getting his duffle bag out of the back of the SUV.

Reid remembered now. That was where he recognized the car from.

“You’re right, it was at the lake.”

Morgan’s phone rang, and he answered :

“Hey baby girl, you got something for me ?”

Spencer didn’t wait for him an entered the hotel, carrying his duffle bag in a hand and his messenger bag around his neck. Hotch was already registering at the reception, and he joined him.

“You really don’t have a sixth room ?” his boss was asking, sighing.

The girl behind the desk shook her head and pursed her lips :

“I’m sorry.”

Hotch sighed again.

“We’ll take the five remaining rooms, thanks.”

When he turned around and met Reid’s eyes, he slightly smiled and said :

“I guess some will have to double up.”

Prentiss dropped her duffel bag on the floor behind Reid.

“Did I hear double up ?” she asked, pushing her hair back.

“Yeah,” Hotch replied as the others joined them.

“I don’t mind doubling up,” Reid announced, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m getting much sleep anyway, so…”

“I can share a room with Reid,” Morgan said, readjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Just, don’t talk about statistics in your sleep, please. It scares the shit out of me.”

Prentiss, JJ and Rossi laughed, and even Hotch couldn’t refrain a smile. Spencer shrugged it off, knowing he probably wouldn’t sleep anyway.

*

Sam was laid down on the couch in the hotel room he and Dean had booked. Dean was in the bed, sleeping, while Sam kept turning over and over again, trying to find a position that wouldn’t hurt his back too much.

It didn’t matter. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep.

He got up, slowly, so as not to wake up his brother – who had started to snore – and quietly picked his computer up from the small round table before exiting the room, making as little noise as possible.

He headed towards the reception, where he knew there were couches, chairs and tables. Even a coffee machine, if he was lucky.

He expected to be alone, but was very surprised to find another man already sitting awkwardly in one of the chairs, a book in hand, flipping the pages every few seconds. Sam frowned. There was no way that man could read this fast. In fact, there was no way anyone could read this fast.

He tried to be silent, so as not to disturb him. But Sam being, well, Sam, he stumbled and kicked a chair, almost falling, making a loud noise that echoed in the hotel’s hall. He winced, looking up at the man, who had stopped reading to glance at him.

“You’re the guy from the crime scene,” the man said, straightening in his seat. “The- the FBI agent, right ? Agent Page ?”

Sam frowned again, confused, before remembering the pale, skinny FBI agent he had, indeed, met at the crime scene earlier. He reached out his hand for the man to shake, smiling :

“Yes, exactly, sorry I haven’t had time to introduce myself properly.”

The real FBI agent didn’t shake his hand but, instead, he waved awkwardly, his lips pursed in a weird smile.

“Sorry, I don’t really shake hands,” he explained as Sam withdrew his hand. “Do you know how many bacteria is transmitted during a handshake ?”

Sam shook his head, sitting across from him, putting his computer down on the table separating them.

“The number is so important that it would actually be safer to kiss.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, nodding slowly. This man was kind of odd.

“So,” Sam started, because the silence had become uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping ? I mean it’s-”

“Four AM, I know,” Reid interrupted him, glancing at his watch. “I would, but I couldn’t, my partner snores.”

Sam scoffed, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, same here.” He paused. “What’s your name again ?”

“I’m Doctor Spencer Reid,” the man said, trying to smile.

It felt weird to see him try to smile genuinely, with the bag eyes and the messy hair.

“I thought you worked for the FBI,” Sam said, confused.

How could this man be a doctor and a federal agent ? He looked too young to even be only one of these.

“Oh, I’m not a medical doctor,” Dr Reid clarified. “I have PhDs in mathematics, physics and engineering, as well as BAs in psychology and sociology, and I’m currently working on a philosophy BA.”

He had said all that very quickly, with a smile that did feel genuine this time.

Sam opened his mouth, closed it again. He blinked a few times before opening it again :

“You barely look twenty-five,” Sam chuckled, resting his elbows on his thighs, bending a bit towards Dr Reid.

“Actually,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “I’m twenty-seven.”

Sam scoffed – again – and Dr Reid frowned.

“What’s so funny ?” he asked, putting his book down on the little table between them.

“You’re almost the same age as me and you’ve already done so many things,” Sam said, astounded.

“I’m sure you’ve done a lot of things too,” Dr Reid replied, pushing his hair out of his face. “You’re… an FBI agent !”

Sam smiled. He was a fake FBI agent. All he had done during his twenty-five years old long life was hunting monsters, ghosts and demons. He had been to Stanford, gotten into pre-law. He had died, too, and been brought back to life.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve accomplished,” Sam replied.

“Well,” the doctor said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

There was a long silence, and Sam picked up his computer, opened it and started to do some more research about the spirit that could have killed those people.

*

Spencer had been really surprised to see the man from the crime scene again. He had thought that the two FBI agents would have been taken off the case but, apparently, they were still in town, and staying at the same hotel as them.

“How is the case going for you ?” he asked after agent Page started to look at his computer.

He only wanted to know if he and his partner had found out more than them about this, because his team was reaching a dead-end.

“Excuse me ?” agent Page said, closing his laptop quickly. “Th-the what ?”

“The case,” Spencer repeated, confused about how agent Page had just reacted. “People drowning, you remember ?”

The other FBI agent looked incredibly relieved.

“Oh, yeah, we didn’t find much,” he said, and Spencer narrowed his eyes.

It kind of sounded like agent Jimmy Page was lying.

But Spencer didn’t push it further. He put the fact that this agent was acting suspicious in the back of his head, and picked up his book again.

“Do you actually read that fast ?”

Spencer looked up, being interrupted by the agent a second time in less than ten minutes.

“I can read two thousand words per minute, yeah,” he simply answered.

“Is there anything you can’t do ?” agent Page asked, truly impressed.

“I can’t really fight… Or play any sports,” Spencer said, shrugging.

Agent Page laughed lightly, and he surprised himself smiling.

“Isn’t that a requirement to work in the FBI ?” agent Page asked once he was done laughing.

“They made an exception for me,” Spencer smiled.

“Do you mind me staying here while you read ?”

Spencer looked at agent Page’s brown eyes. He didn’t mind at all.

“Do as you please,” he simply answered, going back to his book.

The both of them spent the rest of the night on their respective chairs in silence, Spencer reading and agent Page on his computer, the only noises disrupting the calm of the room being Spencer turning the pages of his book and agent Page typing on his keyboard.

*

Eventually, around seven in the morning, Sam left the hotel hall. Dr Reid had fallen asleep on his chair, his hair falling on his face. Sam thought he was lucky.

Because every time he tried to close his eyes for more than a minute, he couldn’t help but see Dean getting torn apart by an invisible hellhound, and when he would manage to fall asleep anyway, he would be woken up by horrible nightmares of Dean dying, or being tortured in hell.

When he and Dean got out of their room again, it was three pm and they hadn’t eaten yet. Both of them had done tons of research all morning and half the afternoon to try to find where the man haunting the lake was buried, but it had happened so long ago that they couldn’t find any records.

On top of that, this man bloodline had ended at the last generation, meaning they wouldn’t find anyone who could help them.

“What are we gonna do now ?” Dean asked, closing the hotel room behind them and locking it.

Sam thought for a second. He had an idea. It wasn’t a good idea, not a bad one either. It would either help them finding what they were looking for, or get them in big troubles. Or both.

“You remember the FBI agents we met at the lake yesterday ?” he asked, turning to his brother.

“Yeah, what about them ?”

“Well, one of them,” Sam started, “the white, skinny one, is actually kind of nice.”

“You talked to him ?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I couldn’t sleep yesterday, so I went down in the hall to do some research and he was here, reading. We talked a bit – he still thinks I’m agent Page with the FBI – and I was wondering… maybe we could ask him ?”

Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, of course Sammy, let’s go to a real FBI agent and ask him if he can help us find the body of a man who died two hundred years ago.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“I did a bit of research on their team – the BAU – and it turns out that, apparently, they have an amazing technical analyst who could find this body in ten minutes ! It’s worth a shot !”

Dean clenched his jaw, thinking. He didn’t like this. Sam was going to blow their cover, and they would get in trouble for impersonating federal agents.

“Just trust me, Dean,” Sam said as they got out of the hotel.

Dean sighed.

“Don’t get us in trouble.”

The thing was that he was in fact, going to get them in troubles. But just a little.

Chapter Text

“They aren’t federal agents, are they ?” Reid asked Hotch as they were both getting in the SUV to go to the morgue again after another body had been discovered at the lake.

He had told him about agent Page, and about how he had spent the night in the hotel’s hall with him, just looking at his computer.

“Garcia didn’t find any agents with those names, and she tried a facial recognition from the hotel’s security cameras, but she wasn’t able to identify them.”

Reid bit his cheek. Who were those guy ? Impersonating a federal agent was illegal, and they had both seemed oddly confident doing it the day prior.

“We’ll ask them some questions if we see them again,” Hotch concluded as they stopped next to the lake. “But, for now, let’s concentrate on this case.”

After the new body, the team was starting to think it hadn’t been an accident, after all. But the victim didn’t have any defensive marks, just as the others. Same cause of death, same inexplicable drowning even though the victim knew how to swim. No drugs in the blood.

There really wasn’t anything to indicate that this was a murder.

*

“Just go downstairs and ask him !”

“I can’t just chime in like ‘hey, kiddo, from FBI to FBI, could you ask your tech analyst about that old guy’s body and tell us where it’s buried ?’, he’ll be suspicious !”

Sam and Dean were arguing in their hotel room about how Sam was supposed to handle the situation.

“Just make small talk !” Dean replied. “Talk about the case, the weather, how bad the coffee is in this stupid hotel or even flirt with him, it doesn’t matter !” Sam looked at him, deadpan. “As long as you get the info.”

“I won’t flirt with him,” Sam retorted.

“I gave you four ideas and this is the only one you point out ?” Dean said, smirking. “Kinda suspicious, if you ask me.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean really was starting to get on his nerves.

“You know what ?” he said. “I’ll go, and I’ll do as I please to get the information, even if it takes me all night.”

Sam went for the door and, as he was about open it, Dean muttered :

“Just because you don’t have the balls to go flirt with someone, for once.”

Sam turned around faster than ever.

“You think I don’t have the balls ?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I can flirt with people.”

“No you can’t, Sammy,” Dean replied, leaning back in the couch. “I bet you didn’t get any since I got you out of Stanford.”

Sam took a deep breath.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he said firmly, raising his finger in front of his face.

“Yeah, well, just admit that you can’t flirt !” Dean half-shouted as Sam left and slammed the door.

Sam was offended. Of course he could flirt. It was just that, after Jess… Well, it still felt pretty recent, even four years later.

Maybe Dean was right. Maybe he should get back on the dating scene. But, with this job, and this life… This wasn’t the kind of life that mixed well with dating. Dean was wrong about one thing, that was for sure : Sam could flirt.

And he was going to prove it.

He went down to the hall and, as he expected, Spencer was sitting there, reading another book. It was only midnight this time, and a pile of books was set on one of the tables.

“Hi,” Sam said, coming to sit, a few chairs away from him. “Dr Reid.”

He smiled, not reaching his hand out this time, knowing he wouldn’t shake it.

“Hi agent Page,” Dr Reid replied, putting his book down.

Sam remembered his brother’s words. You can’t flirt.

He scoffed.

“J-just call me Sam.”

Dr Reid frowned.

“I thought your name was Jimmy. Jimmy Page.”

“Sam is my middle name,” the Winchester quickly replied, mentally slapping himself for having forgotten the fact that he was undercover.

The young doctor simply nodded, before going back to his book. This was going to be more complicated that Sam had originally thought.

“So…” Sam started, looking for Dr Reid’s eyes. “What are you reading ?”

“Thoughts in solitude,” he answered, barely looking up. “It’s by-”

“Thomas Merton,” Sam completed and, seeing Dr Reid look up at him, his eyes lighting up, he quickly added : “I’ve never read it, just heard about it.”

“It’s a really good book,” Dr Reid said, half-smiling. “I could lend it to you in about half an hour, if you’d like.”

Sam scoffed. He had forgotten this man could read faster that it humanly seemed possible.

“That’s really nice of you, Doctor Reid,” he smiled, “But I don’t have that much time to read anymore, with the job and everything.”

“Does your unit give you so little vacation days ?” the FBI agent winced.

Sam shrugged.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind a few more days.”

Dr Reid laughed.

*

Spencer didn’t understand.

First, these FBI agents they had met the day before were obviously not FBI agents, as Garcia had found nothing on them.

Second, they were still in town, even though they had said they would probably get off of the case.

And, lastly, the very handsome obviously-not-FBI-agent was doing small talk and getting interested in what Spencer was reading.

People rarely got interested in what Spencer was reading, and even more rarely tried to make small talk with him.

And there was all the smiles, the chuckles and the hair touching. He noticed Jimmy Page – Sam – touched his hair way more than he had the precedent night. He was also looking at him more often, if not constantly, because every time Spencer glanced at the young man, he had found the green eyes staring at him. And he could have sworn that they were brown last night. And that they were more like a light blue when they had met at the crime scene.

These eyes were just… intriguing. Spencer knew it was probably due to having multiple colours in the irises, and that depending on what he wore or the luminosity, Sam’s eyes would seem to change colours. That was still intriguing – and kind of pretty.

“Do, uhm, do you often read in hotel halls, Dr Reid ?” the man asked after they both stopped laughing.

What are you doing ? Spencer thought. He is impersonating an FBI agent, you should be questioning him instead of-

“Please, call me Spencer,” he said instead. “And, well, I usually don’t, but I might do it more often now, if only I was sure I would get such great company each time.”

Stupid.

Sam laughed, a bit nervously, and Spencer wondered if he had said something wrong.

Oh God, he thought. What if I’ve got it all wrong ? What if he’s just here because he’s bored or-

“You’re pretty good company too.”

Spencer smiled, going back to his book. He fell the blood rushing to his face, reddening his cheeks and probably making him look like a twelve years old straight boy talking to a girl for the first time.

But obviously, Spencer wasn’t a twelve-year old straight boy.

He wasn’t twelve, to begin with, but twenty-seven, although he hadn’t changed much since he had graduated from high school. He was the same skinny, pale, talkative boy who couldn’t grow a beard nor refrain himself from spitting out facts about everything and anything. At least he had switched from glasses to contacts.

And he wasn’t straight. At all. He had realized that when he had gotten to college, and had started to be more interested in men than women. He still liked women though, sometimes.

And he had a feeling Sam wasn’t straight either.

“How’s the case going ?”

Spencer looked up slowly. He was pretty sure he was still blushing.

“We’ve got nothing.” He shook his head. “And it’s odd because there is no proof that these are actual murders, but I’m pretty sure these are more than just drownings.”

Sam nodded.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said. “The thing is…”

He paused for a moment, which piqued Spencer’s interest. He straightened in his seat, closing his book.

“We may have a lead,” Sam went on. “But we need more info on this guy who died a hundred years ago, and we couldn’t find anyth-”

Spencer didn’t even let him finish. He had already gotten his phone out of his pocket and had started dialing Garcia’s number.

“We have a fantastic technical analyst, let me call her.”

“Isn’t it a bit late ?” Sam asked, a bit surprised that Spencer was so willing to help. “It’s past midnight.”

“She’ll be up,” Spencer assured.

After a quick call, Spencer hung up.

“She’ll call us back as soon as she finds what you’re looking for,” Spencer smiled.

*

Sam couldn’t believe it.

He hadn’t even had to do anything. It had only taken a few smiles for the young FBI agent to agree to help him.

When, ten minute after, Spencer’s phone rang, he was on the edge of his seat, impatient to know where the man was buried.

“Okay, thank you Garcia,” Spencer said before putting his phone down next to him. “He’s buried a few towns away from here, she will send me the address.”

“That’s great,” Sam said, getting his own phone out. “I’ll just give you my number so you can send it to me next.”

Sam noticed that Spencer hesitated, blushing once again.

This man seemed really unused to the whole flirting thing. He didn’t look uncomfortable – in which case Sam would have stopped immediately – he just acted like he was trying to flirt in return, but couldn’t find the right words.

“O-okay,” Spencer finally stuttered, starting to type the number Sam was giving him.

“I’ll probably go to bed now,” Sam said once he had received the text with the address of the graveyard. “Thank you so much for your help – and for the company,” he quickly added, suddenly realizing how rude it was of him to flee the room after he had gotten what he wanted.

“No problem.”

But Sam was already practically running towards the stairs, impatient to show Dean the info he had managed to get.

*

After Sam left, Spencer needed a minute to gather his thoughts.

He now had Sam’s number. He wasn’t going to do anything with it though, he didn’t have that kind of confidence.

But he was wondering, because Sam had his number, too.

He didn’t let his mind go further. He probably wouldn’t receive any call from him. Why would he ? They had talked for, what, an hour, total ? The night before, they had just kind of stayed together awkwardly, each doing their own thing.

He stood up and went to drink at the water fountain with a cardboard cup, clearing his thoughts.

Spencer threw his cup in the trash next to the fountain and was about to call it a night when he heard noises coming from the stair case.

“I can’t believe he gave you the address,” a masculine voice said, approaching the hall.

“Told you I could flirt,” answered a voice Spencer recognized.

He hid behind the wall, suddenly curious about what Sam had to say, but not wanting to be seen.

“So we go burn the bones, go back at the lake to check that the spirit isn’t there anymore, and then we’ll head out,” the other voice said, and Spencer took a look to see who it belonged to.

He saw Sam, as he expected, but he had traded his suit for a striped shirt, a brown jacket and jeans. The man next to him was his partner, Spencer remembered him from the crime scene. Well, he obviously wasn’t his real FBI partner, since none of them were actually FBI agents.

However, what intrigued Spencer wasn’t the sudden outfit change, but rather what they were talking about.

Burn the bones ? Spirit ?

“Works for me,” Sam answered, opening the hotel’s door.

Spencer had a bad feeling about this. These man – whoever they were – were up to no good. And they were going to the address he had given them.

A sudden guilt smashed him in the face. He had to make it right.

This guilt was what lead to one of his most dangerous – and yet most exciting – decision : he was going to follow these men.

He could have called Hotch waited for back-up. But he didn’t. He held his messenger bag against his side while getting in the black SUV and following Sam and this other man from afar.

He didn’t wait for back-up, although he thought he probably should have.

Chapter Text

Spencer couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed.

After parking the SUV on the side of the road a few dozen meters away, he had gotten out of the vehicle and sneaked in the cemetery, a hand on the gun at his belt.

That’s when he had seen Sam and the other man digging. With a shovel and everything. Sam was the one holding the torch towards the ground while his friend took the dirt out over and over again

He had seen them open the old casket underneath and, when he had thought it couldn’t get weirder, Sam had poured something on the corpse, then gotten a lighter out of his pocket and had lit the whole thing on fire.

He could have arrested them right there. But he couldn’t, because something – his gut, maybe – was telling him that they weren’t finished.

He was right.

So, as they left the graveyard, he followed them again, to the lake this time.

Before getting out of the car, he checked his phone. He should have called Hotch. But how could he explain ? He was the one who had given the address to Sam. He was the one who had let his guard down.

Oh God, Spencer thought. That’s why he was so nice : he was just using me to get the address.

How embarrassing. How could he think Sam was actually interested in him ?

He put the phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t call Hotch. He could handle that on his own, right ?

Obviously he couldn’t, but he didn’t exactly know what he was dealing with.

Spencer got out, slowly closing the door so as not to make any noise that would get him spotted.

The closer he got, the weirder it became.

Sam and his friend were both holding guns – big hunting shotguns, and Sam’s friend was calling :

“Here, ghosty ghosty… come out if you’re still here, you bastard.”

And then something odd – like, really odd – happened.

A white, translucent silhouette appeared behind Sam. Spencer blinked a few times, thinking he was hallucinating from the lack of sleep at first, before realising that what he was seeing was real.

“Watch out Sammy !” the man yelled, pointing behind Sam, where the white shape was.

Sam turned around and pulled the trigger of his shotgun, and the figure disappeared.

“There must be something still tying him here !” the man said as the transparent thing appeared next to him.

Spencer could see it clearer now : it was a man. An old one, wearing a big hat and very old fashioned clothes – that even himself wouldn’t wear.

The man shot the figure – which disappeared again – and this second gunshot took Spencer out of his initial shock.

He got his own weapon out, pointing it towards both Sam and the other man :

“FBI !” he shouted. “DROP YOUR WEAPONS !”

“You again ?” the man said, not even looking at him, while Sam exclaimed :

“Spencer ? What are you doing here ?”

Spencer didn’t even have time to do anything else : everything was happening so fast.

Someone – or rather, something – caught him by the throat from behind. Spencer shot behind him, struggling to try and break free, but even after three bullets, the flickering silhouette didn’t let go of him.

He could hear Sam and the other guy arguing loudly as he was getting dragged towards the water, his feet trailing in the mud as he tried to escape, his own hands closing around his throat like nothing was actually holding him.

When the thing pushed him face down in the lake, he understood. This… thing, whatever it was, was responsible for the deaths of those people.

And he was going to be next.

*

“Why did he follow us ?” Dean shouted, waving his hands.

“I don’t know !” Sam replied, panicking.

He had no idea what was happening. Suddenly, Spencer had gotten out of the shadows and pointed his gun at them. Why would he do that ?

Dean approached him furiously, stomping in the muddy ground with his leather boots.

“Do you know in how much trouble we are right now ?”

Sam chuckled.

“Oh so now you’re going to blame me ? Me ? You’re not really in any position to judge life choices, Dean !”

Dean was about to answer, but he was interrupted by muffled screams from the lake.

“Shit !” he exclaimed instead as they both ran towards the sound.

As soon as Sam caught a glimpse of what was happening, he didn’t hesitate a second.

He jumped in the lake, swimming as fast as he could to reach Spencer, who was getting his head held under water by the ghost.

“Watch out Sammy !” Dean screamed from the shore, loading his shotgun.

Sam moved back a little so that Dean could shot the spirit, which disappeared.

Spencer was still struggling as Sam quickly came to help him.

“What was that ?” the young doctor exclaimed as soon as he could breathe again.

“A ghost,” Sam simply replied, grabbing Spencer’s arm and putting it around his own neck to help him swim to Dean, who helped them out of the water.

“Shit !” Spencer exclaimed. “My gun fell in the lake.”

Sam looked at him, his mouth open.

“You almost died and you’re complaining about your gun ?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ve seen worse,” Spencer shrugged, pushing his wet hair back.

Dean laughed. Threw his head back and everything.

“This one, Sammy,” he said once he calmed down. “He’s a keeper.”

Sam blushed. What was Dean implying ? He had just flirted with Spencer to get the information they needed, and for absolutely no other reason. Nope. Just for the info.

“A keeper ?” Spencer frowned. “What does that mean ?”

“Nothing,” Sam replied before Dean could. “We should head back to the hotel.”

*

Spencer felt like he had learned more during this trip back to the hotel, Sam sitting next to him in the SUV, than during his whole life. Dean was driving the black impala behind them, letting Sam explain everything to a very confused – yet excited and interested – Spencer.

“What about werewolves ?” he asked.

“Yep, they exist too,” Sam answered. “I’ll send you links if you want to read more about all this,” he added, because they were almost at the hotel.

“I would love to.”

Sam smiled.

“So, hum,” Spencer started, deciding he wanted to confront him about it. “You really just needed the address, uh ?”

Sam turned to him, frowning.

“Well, yes, I- I did need the address,” Spencer nodded, looking back at the road. “But it was still nice hanging out with you !” the hunter quickly added.

There was a minute of silence between them. It was kind of awkward.

“What are you going to do about it ?” Spencer finally asked.

“What ?”

“The spirit,” he specified, glancing at Sam.

“Oh, well, Dean and I will go back to the lake tomorrow to try to find what is linking the spirit to this place in particular, then we’ll burn it.”

Spencer tried his best to keep a blank face, but he couldn’t help being a little impressed.

“And that’s it ?”

Sam shrugged and nodded.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

Sam laughed quietly.

“Well,” he sighed. “It’s my job, I’m used to it.”

Spencer parked in front of the hotel and got out of the SUV, still soaking wet.

“Promise me you’ll be careful tomorrow,” Spencer said as Sam opened the hotel’s door for him.

“We’ll try to be,” Dean answered, entering behind him and winking at Sam in the process.

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes.

“I’ll send you these articles I told you about,” he said, turning to Spencer.

The latter was standing in the middle of the hall, clutching to his messenger bag.

“I, um, I’ll give you my email, if you don’t mind,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

Sam nodded.

“Yeah, of course, you’ve got my number, just text me.”

As the Winchesters started to leave the room, Spencer half-whispered :

“I will.”

*

When he quietly closed the door of the room he shared with Rossi, he was surprised by the bed light still on and his colleague sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Care to explain yourself kiddo ?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer stuttered for a few seconds, his hair dripping wet on the bedroom’s floor, before blurting out :

“I followed the fake FBI agents.”

“You what ?”

Spencer took his messenger bag off, putting it down next to the couch.

“They didn’t do much, really, just visited someone’s grave and left,” he explained, taking his shoes off.

“And from what I see the graveyard was particularly humid,” Rossi retorted, looking him up and down.

“It was raining,” Spencer simply replied.

He could have explained. Well, not all of it, but he could have produced a better lie, at least. Tell a half-true. Lie about the spirit but be sincere about the lake. Say they encountered the killer but didn’t see his face.

He could have said a lot of things to better cover up the insanity of what he had just lived. Instead, he went to take a shower and, when he came out of the bathroom, Rossi had fallen asleep on top of the sheets.

Spencer left the bed light on – because as much as he could handle almost being drowned by a vengeful spirit, he was still deadly afraid of the dark, and maybe even more tonight – and lied down on the couch. For the first time in a few weeks, he slept until sunrise.

*

He didn’t say anything to the team.

Well, except that the two men went to a random graveyard.

But he didn’t talk about the burned corpse, the lake or the ghost. He didn’t talk about the hunters, the things standing in the shadows and the creatures that came out at night.

He blurted out something about losing his gun. Hotch glared at him but didn’t say anything.

They would think he had gone crazy – hallucinated from the lack of sleep, maybe.

And Spencer feared they would be right.

He feared that, somehow, last night really was a fever dream and that, opening his phone, he would not find any number under the name ‘Jimmy-Sam’.

He didn’t dare look at his phone all morning, actually afraid of what he would or wouldn’t find in it.

When they all gathered around to eat lunch, however, he couldn’t resist. He turned it on, searched through his recent messages, and here it was.

sent from : you
to : Jimmy-Sam

The text message only contained the address of the cemetery, which reminded Spencer that he had only been used for this information.
He still wanted to learn more about the supernatural though, and he swore himself that was the only reason he sent the next text.

sent from : you
to : Jimmy-Sam

Hello Sam, here is my email address for you to send me the articles you told me about.
[email protected]
S.R.

He didn’t expect Sam to answer so quickly – or even to answer at all – but he did.

sent from : Jimmy-Sam
to : you

Hi Spencer ! Thank you for your email address, I’ll send you some links during the following week.
I think it goes without saying that what you saw last night should probably stay confidential, if you don’t want to end up in a psychiatric hospital or taken off the FBI for delirious conspiracy theories :)
SW

Spencer put the phone back in his pocket. He couldn’t wait to read about all this.
A minute after, his phone rang again.

sent from : Jimmy-Sam
to : you

By the way, I didn’t only spend time with you because of the whole address thing. I really think you’re nice. Sorry if you felt otherwise.

Spencer didn’t answer

Chapter Text

2008, October the 20th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer,

This is Sam Winchester, from the weird case, do you remember ?

Sorry it took me so long to send you this, I know I said I was going to send it during the week, but we got a little bit overwhelmed with everything, and I didn’t find time to sit down in front of my laptop and search for articles that could interest you before today.

Well, anyway, here are the links.

With the hope you’ll find everything you were looking for,

SW

2008, October the 28th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hello Sam,

Of course I remember, how would I forget the thing I saw ? (I have an eidetic memory but, still, I don’t think anyone would forget almost being drowned by a ghost).

I’ve read all the articles you’ve sent, and ended up reading others on my own on the same websites. Thank you very much for them, they were very enriching and interesting.

Feel free to send me more if you encounter some papers about ‘your world’ that might pique my interest (they probably all would).

Thank you again,

S.R.

2008, November the 20th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer,

How are you ? I know it’s been a little while, but things are getting complicated out there, in what you would call ‘our world’. We are after a demon that insists on making herself particularly difficult to find.

I’ve been gathering some websites for you over the weeks, I hope you’ll enjoy them.

How are things doing at the BAU ?

SW

2008, November the 30th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hello Sam,

I’m fine, thanks for asking. How is this demon thing going ? You didn’t send me anything in particular about them, but I’ve seen them being mentioned in a few articles. May I ask what they do, exactly, and where they come from ? Are they like Christian demons ? Are they necessarily evil, do they possess people ?

Sorry, I know I’m asking a lot of questions, but this is just too fascinating. I used to think all these unnatural phenomenon didn’t exist before but, well, I have been face to face with a ghost, so, at this point, anything seems believable.

Once again, the websites were very much interesting, and I’m pretty sure I’ve read everything I could find on them. I’m usually more of a ‘paper and books’ person, but there aren’t any physical newspapers about the supernatural, is there ?

The BAU is doing pretty well. We just came back from a case, nothing unusual.

Hope to hear from you soon !

S.R.

2008, December the 3rd
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer,

I’m happy to see you’re interested in the things I send you, and I’ll admit your curiosity about demons made me smile a little. I sent some articles along with the email, but none of them feature the one we’re after, Lilith.

You probably already know her, if you’re a bit familiar with the Christian religion and the Bible. We’re trying to stop her from breaking the 66 seals which would then free Lucifer from his cage.

Yes. The actual devil. I know this may sound crazy but, I promise you, it isn’t, once you know what we know and see what we see. There’s also this angel, Castiel, who is kind of helping us. Kind of, because he won’t respond to my calls, only to Dean’s, and it seriously pisses me off.

Sadly, there isn’t any trustworthy newspapers about vampires or wendigoes, not that I know of, at least.

We just went back from Nebraska, where we thought a house was haunted. It turned out to be inhabited by a women that had been kept locked inside since childhood. It’s not the first time a case was in fact just humans doing wicked things (encountered hunters who liked to hunt humans once : not fun).

I don’t know how you do it. Chasing humans, I mean. Monsters are easy, you can compartmentalise. Monsters are bad, humans are good (even though, sometimes, the line is thin between what’s good and what’s bad). But humans… cases like this one might be the worsts.

Anyway, have a nice day :)

Sam.

2008, December the 12th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hello Sam,

I’ve read everything I could find about demons and, wow. This would almost be unbelievable if I didn’t trust you not to tell me lies. I see you and your friend Dean have a pretty important thing to deal with, and hope you will succeed in finding Lilith and stopping her.

It is funny that you think hunting monsters is easier than chasing down people, because I feel the same about what you do. Humans are real people, you can get into their head, learn from their minds by what seems to be the less relevant things. They are predictable, for the most part, and we even manage to prevent them from killing more people just by talking them down, sometimes.

I will not lie to you, what you do scares me. I read a lot, and I’ve already read very disturbing books, but knowing that the articles you send me each time are about real creatures that actually walk this earth… It is different.

We just came back from a case (I’m literally on the plane when I’m writing this). Police officers were being shot in Phoenix, Arizona, and the local police thought it was a gang when it was, in fact, a serial killer.

I’m sorry if this sounds a bit intrusive, but how did you get into the hunting life ? Also, from what I’ve read, a lot of people prefer to hunt alone, how did you and Dean meet ?

Wishing you two the best luck to find Lilith,

S.R.

2008, December the 20th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer !

How are you ? You seem completely unfazed by your last case, it kind of amazes me. Well, I guess I must sound the same talking about our hunts.

Talking about hunts, we are in Greybull, Wyoming right now, because no one here has died in the last ten years. Dean and I are following a lead about the local reaper being on holidays or something.

Well, most people get into hunting when one of their relatives or friends gets hurt by something unnatural. They do research, find out they are not actually crazy and what they saw was real, find other hunters sometimes, people that teach them a thing or two. Each hunter’s journey is different, but oddly alike.

As for Dean and I, well, Dean is my older brother. Our mother died when I was a baby, and our father has started hunting since, dragging us into the lifestyle as well. I left a soon as I turned eighteen, but Dean needed my help for something almost four years ago, and we’ve been hunting together since.

I wanted to tell you about a hunt we did the other day, one that happened in Fairfax, Indiana. Dean and I were familiar with the place, since we went to the local school when we were kids, me as a freshman and Dean as a senior. We used to live on the road, and stayed there for approximately a month while our father went on a hunt. The spirit we killed was a boy I knew.

This boy, Dirk McGregor, was a real bully when I first got to Truman High. I defended another kid and stood up to him. Eventually, he tried to fight me. The training provided by my dad gave me an advantage, and he ended up not being a bully anymore.

What I didn’t know, however, was that, after I left, students started to bully him in return, which lead him to kill himself. That was why he was haunting the school.

I felt very guilty when I learned this. He may have been a bully, but I don’t think he deserved to be bullied back. No one does. And thinking I have caused his bullying just got in my head and I can’t help thinking of him, of the life he would have had if I hadn’t been there.

Dean tells me not to worry, that he was a bad kid anyway, and that beating him up served him a lesson, but I know he’s wrong. Do you think it was my fault ?

Sorry, this email is getting long.

I attached some new articles, I hope you’ll like them.

Sam.

2008, December the 28th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Dear Sam,

It is snowing, here in Quantico, and I don’t know where you are now, but I hope you get to see the snow too !

Coming from someone who was bullied in high school, I’m glad you stood up to this kid. Of course, he didn’t deserve what happened to him after, but I don’t really think you are responsible for his death. After all, if he had not been a bully in the first place, none of this would have happened.

I find it hard to empathy with bullies. This is probably due to the fact that, graduating at twelve in a public school in Las Vegas, I wasn’t on the ‘good side’ of the whole bullying thing. I will not get into the details, but high school was probably one of the worst times of my life.

I’m sorry about your mother, and about the fact that you and your brother had to start living like this at such a young age. I may know what it’s like to grow up with a single parent, but I can’t imagine what the hunting lifestyle would do to children. And, well, my father might have left me and my mom, but at least he is still alive.

The articles were on point, as usual. I had no idea something like a Rugaru even existed.

Don’t worry about the length of your emails, I can read twenty thousand words per minutes, I think I can handle it :)

Merry Christmas,

S.R.

2009, January the 18th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer !

Happy new year ! I’m sorry I couldn’t answer sooner, but Lilith is getting closer every day of freeing Lucifer from his cage, even though Dean and I are trying our best to stop her.

I’m sorry to hear you were bullied in high school, but I also can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that you graduated at twelve. You must have been some kind of prodigy, right ?

As for my mother, well, I was too young when it happened to remember anything anyway. My father and brother told me she died in my nursery and, somehow, it is kind of my fault. It’s a long story, maybe I’ll explain it to you one day.

I’m really sorry, I didn’t have time to look for new articles to send you, but I also didn’t want to leave you without an answer for too long. I promise I’ll try a little harder for the next email :)

Have a nice day !

Sam.

2009, February the 2nd
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hello Sam,

Don’t worry about the articles, I’m starting to find a lot of them on my own, and I’m pretty sure they are almost all trustworthy. It is also completely okay if you take time to answer. To be honest, we’re pretty busy here too. There are a lot of cases and we have a lot of works on our hands (although I find paperwork relaxing, it is a lot less fun than going onto the field).

Talking about cases and paperwork, I found something the other day, an old case file. It’s classified, and it wouldn’t be safe to talk about it here, but if you were to travel next to Quantico, I’d like to tell you more about it someday. I feel like it could be one of your cases.

Once again, good luck for Lilith (please, don’t let her free Lucifer, I believe that would be awful),

Spencer.

2009, February the 10th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer,

We’re doing our best about Lilith, I promise, but she is one of the most powerful things we’ve ever encountered (the angel I told you about can be pretty powerful too, when he wants to be).

I’m very curious about the case you told me about and, well, Dean and I are going to Virginia next week anyway, so why not meet somewhere in Quantico and talk about it around a cup of coffee ? We could also just go to a park or something, what makes you more comfortable.

Just choose a place and a date, anything will be fine for me, as long as it’s between the 14th and the 20th.

See you next week (hopefully),

Sam.

2009, February the 13th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hello Sam,

I have a day off on the 17th, would it be okay for you ? I know a nice coffee shop were we can meet, if it is alright with you. Let’s say, 5pm ? I attached the address.

Spencer.

2009, February the 14th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

The 17th, 5pm, at the address you sent me. Perfect, I’ll be there :)

Sam.

Chapter Text

“He didn’t even tell you what the case was about, and you still insist on going ?”

“Well, I told him we were going to Virginia this week, so why not ?”

“We were not originally going to Virginia, what’s the matter with you ?”

Sam and Dean were arguing in the hotel room as Sam was putting his jacket over his flannel button-up shirt.

“We don’t have any lead on Lilith, anyway,” Sam snapped, turning to Dean. “Why does it matter so much if our next case is here or in Colorado, Nevada, Texas, or anywhere else ?”

Dean sighed loudly.

“Because we don’t even know if there is a case ! This guy you barely know tells you about something that might be our gig, and you don’t even ask for more info before going to meet him ?”

Sam grabbed his laptop, putting it in his backpack.

“We’ve been exchanging emails for four months, he’s not a complete stranger.”

“He’s not even a hunter !” Dean replied.

“He is very smart,” Sam retorted, picking up his backpack on one shoulder. “He wouldn’t have told me about this unless he really thought this was something for us to handle.”

Dean opened his arms, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.

“And you trust him to know what is and what isn’t for us to handle ?

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Dean sighed once again, sitting on the couch.

“Well, have fun on your little date.”

“This is not a date, Dean,” Sam said sharply. “He’s going to tell me about the case.”

“Oh, come on !” Dean exclaimed, slapping his own thighs. “He could have told you in the email.”

“It’s an FBI classified file, he couldn’t.” Sam opened the door. “Besides, what harm can it do ?”

“We can’t get attached,” Dean answered. “Not with this life.”

Sam left, half-slamming the door in the process.

*

Spencer was making sure he had printed everything he wanted to show Sam, putting everything in his messenger bag, along with the case file. He was a little nervous. What if Sam thought it wasn’t really their kind of case ? What if he was going to embarrass himself, pretending to be something he was not ?

Because, as much as he had tried to be for this, he wasn’t a hunter. He probably didn’t even look up for the right things, despite all the articles he had read. This wasn’t the kind of things you could learn in books or on the internet.

He almost didn’t go. He took off his messenger bag and set it on his couch, closing his door again.

His phone made a notification sound, and he looked at the message he had just received.

sent from : Jimmy-Sam
to : you

Hi Spencer ! Still up for coffee ?
SW

He hesitated. Now that Sam was in Quantico, he kind of had to go.

sent from : you
to : Jimmy-Sam

Of course, see you in half an hour !
S.R.

Spencer sighed silently, his shoulders falling a little. He had to go now. He picked up his messenger bag again and left his apartment, locking the door behind him and shoving the keys in his pocket.

He took the subway because, even though he technically could drive, he didn’t own a car. It was better for the environment anyway. He walked to the coffee shop and, when he came in, he expected to be the first arrived, since he was ten minutes early.

But, as he quickly scanned the room to look for a free table, he spotted Sam, who was smiling and waving at him.

“Hi,” Spencer said, sitting down across from him, taking his messenger bag off and pushing it under his seat.

“Hi,” Sam replied.

He already had a half-empty small cup of coffee in front of him, and he smiled awkwardly.

“I didn’t know when you’d get here,” he explained. “So I, hum, ordered before you arrived.”

“It’s no problem,” Spencer assured, nodding, and a waiter interrupted them.

“Hello Sir,” he said. “What can I get for you ?”

“Could I get a latte, please ?” Spencer said.

The waiter nodded and left.

“So,” Sam started after a few seconds of awkward silence. “How are you ?”

“Fine, hum, yeah fine,” Spencer answered, shifting in his sit. “You ? How is it going with Lilith ?”

“Well, it’s going, you know,” Sam said, taking a sip of coffee. “The trail has gone cold so, yeah, we’re waiting for Castiel to tell us if there’s any news from his side.”

Spencer nodded.

“The angel, right ?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

The waiter came back, setting down a large cup in front of Spencer.

“Thank you,” Spencer smiled.

When the waiter left, he opened the sugar box that was on the table and put five little cubes in his cup.

“Do you always take that much sugar in your coffee ?” Sam asked, eyes wide, a little amused.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, stirring his coffee with the spoon the waiter had given him.

Spencer took a long sip. It burnt his tongue and his throat, living a bitter taste despite all the sugar. He cleared his throat.

“About the case,” he started, bending down to grab his messenger bag.

“Yes ?” Sam said, sitting on the edge of his seat.

Spencer took the file out, sliding it towards Sam.

He let him read it, and could see the disappointed look on the hunter’s face.

“I’m sorry Spencer…” he said, raising his head and looking at him. “I don’t really see anything special here-”

Spencer took another sip of coffee and didn’t let him finish.

“Just keep reading, it gets interesting.”

After a few minutes, Sam closed the file.

“Well,” he said carefully. “It’s true that there are some weird things, like the fact that sulphur was found at each crime scene and that the murders always happen between two and four am.” He slid the file to Spencer’s side of the table. “But I don’t know is this is enough to convince Dean.”

Spencer looked at him, a bit sadly.

“I mean,” Sam added, clearing his throat. “It’s definitely worth checking it out, but Dean was a bit… reluctant, since you’re not really a hunter or anything.”

Spencer had feared that this would happen. But he had come prepared.

“This is why,” he said, taking a little pile of paper out of his messenger bag, trying to look confident, “I did some more digging for you.”

Sam reached for it, and Spencer gave him all of it.

There was pictures, old journal articles, death certificates, autopsy reports, family and friends interviews, everything was there.

Spencer looked at Sam, trying to read his micro expressions. He was surprised, that was for sure, maybe even a little impressed.

“Wow…” he whispered, looking through everything. “This is some really good research, Spencer,” he admitted.

“I just looked some things up, it really wasn’t that complicated…” Spencer started.

It had been, in fact, complicated. But he tried to pass it off as something normal. Was he trying to be modest or to impress Sam ? He didn’t know himself.

“No, really, it’s great,” Sam interrupted him, reading a newspapers article. “Gosh, this much information can take hours to gather.”

Spencer shrugged

“I had time on my hands.”

It was true. Even though they were overwhelmed with cases at the BAU, he still had time to kill at home.

Sam was, once again, staring at him, eyes wide.

“You did great job, really,” he repeated, as to convince Spencer.

And it worked a little, because the latter pursed his lips in a smile.

“Thank you.”

They finished drinking their coffee, talking about the case, Spencer explaining how he had found all of this and Sam explaining how Dean and he were going to handle this.

“Well,” Sam said once Spencer had taken the last sip of his drink, looking at the time on his phone. “Thank you again Spencer, I’ll keep you posted about this hunt.”

“Please do,” Spencer answered, quickly grabbing his messenger bag as Sam was stuffing the pile of papers in his backpack. “I want to know how this turns out.”

They got up almost at the same time, careful to avoid each other’s eyes – even though none of them knew why exactly.

Sam insisted to pay for Spencer’s coffee, to thank him for all the research he had done, and Spencer could do nothing but accept, slightly embarrassed.

“Next time, I’m the one paying,” he said as they got out of the coffee shop.

“Sounds great,” Sam answered, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

They both smiled, Spencer threw a small wave in and Sam nodded before they went opposite ways.

Spencer kept smiling all the way back to his apartment. He had had a great time.

*

“Dean, you’re not going to believe this.”

Sam chimed in the hotel room, opening his backpack and handing all the papers Spencer had given him to his brother, who was sitting on the couch.

“What’s all this ?” Dean asked, straightening in his sit. “Wait, is this all about the case ?”

Sam sat across from him, on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah !” he scoffed. “Spencer gave me all of it to back up his theory. According to him, there’s a vengeful spirit in the house, and it is-”

“Sir Gerard Hathaway’s spirit,” Dean completed, reading a newspaper article. “Wow, this kid is really good,” he added, raising his eyebrows.

“See ? Told you it wouldn’t be nothing.”

Dean looked up at Sam.

“Yeah, I truly didn’t think it was gonna be a real hunting thing.”

*

The hunt was easy : everything had been handed to them on a silver platter. All they had to do was to check the EMF in the house, to make sure there was supernatural activity there, and then they just waited for the night to go salt and burn Hathaway’s remains, which were buried not far from Quantico.

Sam and Dean were both standing over the burning corpse, watching the flames consume the rotten flesh and listening to the cracking sounds of fire devouring bones.

“Do me a favour, Sam,” Dean suddenly said.

Sam turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Keep in touch with this kid, he could be a good hunter one day.”

*

Spencer checked his phone shortly after waking up the next morning, and saw he had gotten a text :

sent from : Jimmy-Sam
to : you

We took care of everything with Dean. Thank you again for all your work, it was very helpful and thanks to you, this case was wrapped in only a few hours.
SW

Spencer smiled. He took a shower, had his breakfast and, after brushing his teeth, he answered :

sent from : you
to : Jimmy-Sam

It was no problem, I quite enjoyed doing all this research, actually. I’ll send you another email if I find some other interesting thing for you and your brother.
S.R.

Although Spencer expected an answer, he wasn’t disappointed when, after a few hours, he realized he wouldn’t get one. It was okay, though.

He spent the following weeks reviewing old case files. The ones that had been closed due to a lack of evidence, or because nothing about them insinuated the involvement of any real criminal activity.

He found some, obviously. Spent several nights doing research, crossing cases out every time the trail went too cold for him to find anything useful to the Winchesters.

After two weeks without any of them exchanging any emails or text messages, Spencer found a case. A real one, and he had enough proofs, just like last time.

So, just like last time, he sent Sam an email.

2009, March the 3rd
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Sam !

I found another case for you, tell me when you’re somewhere near Virginia, so I can tell you all about it !

Spencer.

Unfortunately, the weeks went by, without any news from Sam.

And Spencer started wondering.

Had he really made that bad of an impression ? Was Sam disappointed he had not insisted more to pay for the coffees ? Was the case and the research actually very bad ? What if Sam had just found him boring ?

He was about to go to bed one night, having just gotten back from a case (a serial arsonist, Spencer didn’t particularly like them), when he got a notification on his phone.

2009, March the 26th
from : [email protected]
to : [email protected]

Hi Spencer,

I am so, so sorry that I couldn’t answer sooner. The thing is, something really weird happened to Dean and me during the past month. I’ll tell you next time we see each other, of course, and thank you for keeping on giving us new cases.

It really was a pleasure to have coffee with you, the other day. Why don’t we do that again ? I’m free whenever you are.

I apology again,

Sam.

Spencer smiled. Sam hadn’t forgotten him or deliberately ignored him, after all. He turned his phone off, slipping under his covers. He would answer tomorrow.

Chapter Text

By May, Sam and Spencer had gone three more times to get coffee together and talk about a case Spencer had found for the Winchesters.

They were still exchanging emails in-between, in which Sam would tell the FBI agent about Lilith, angels and some other hunts, while Spencer would tell the hunter about unsubs and cases he encountered at work.

They talked very little about their personal lives but, when they did, it was very matter-of-factly. Sam never said anything about Spencer’s mother having paranoid schizophrenia, and Spencer didn’t expend on the fact that Sam had confided in him about how his dad used to be abusive, especially towards Dean.

It was just like how they never talked about Sam growing up on the road, sleeping in shitty motel rooms and living off of stolen food, or about Spencer being bullied and humiliated at school. They mentioned it, slipping it between fun facts about monsters and serial killers. But it was never properly addressed.

And it was just fine for Spencer, as well as it was for Sam.

*

2009, May the 10th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer, I’m in James Town, North Dakota.

I’m about to do something big.

It’s the thing to do, I know it. Dean won’t let me, but I escaped.

He locked me up, can you believe it ? Fucking locked me up like an animal. Just because I can do some things he can’t. But it’s okay now, I escaped, and I’m going to fix everything.

Sorry, I just had to tell someone, and Dean isn’t there, and obviously I can’t call Bobby.

I’m about to do something big. Let’s hope I don’t die in the process.

Sam.

2009, May the 10th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Sam, are you okay ?

I have no idea what you are talking about. Why did Dean lock you up ? What are you going to do ? Who is Bobby ?

Please be careful.

Spencer.

Spencer was, indeed, very confused to receive this email, right as he was about to go to bed. He reached out to his phone, went to his contacts, and called the number that was under the name ‘Jimmy-Sam’.

He would have to change it, someday.

He wouldn’t have called if the email hadn’t felt this urgent. It sounded like a real emergency, almost as if Sam was as confused as him.

And Spencer had a felling his friend was in danger.

When he picked up, Spencer didn’t even let him speak.

“Sam ! Are you okay ? What is this all about ?”

“Sorry, not Sam,” a voice slightly deeper than what Spencer expected answered. “This is Dean, do you know where he is ?”

Spencer frowned. Why did Dean have Sam’s phone ?

“What is happening ? He emailed me and told me you locked him up, why would y-”

“He sent you a fucking e-mail ?” Dean snapped over the phone.

“Will you please explain what is going on ?” Spencer asked again, his voice going in a higher register.

He was fully out of bed now, sitting on his undone sheets.

“He’s making a bad decision, but he thinks it’s the thing to do. God, this kid-”

“Is it about Lilith ?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line.

“Is it ?” Spencer repeated.

“Tell me where he is first.”

Spencer sighed. He didn’t want to get Sam into any troubles, but this seemed like a serious situation.

“He is in James Town, North Dakota.”

He could hear Dean’s heavy breathing.

“Yes,” he finally muttered. “This is all about Lilith. And Sam- he’ll-”

But Spencer couldn’t make out the words that came out of Dean’s mouth and through the phone.

“Go slower, I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he calmly said, despite all the thoughts running in his head, making it ache.

“It’s gonna kill him. Or worse.”

Spencer got up from his bed and frowned.

“What do you mean, worse ?”

“Sorry, I don’t have time.”

“But-“

Dean had hung up. And Sam was standing in the middle of his bedroom, wearing his blue flannels pajamas. Sam was in great danger, and there was nothing he could do about it.

*

Spencer didn’t sleep that night. He read some books, online articles, scientific papers, everything that could be a good distraction and was enough for him to get his mind off of Sam.

He planned on calling Sam again tomorrow, but he got called in by Hotch for a case and, well, people were in danger too.

He really hoped nothing too bad had happened.

*

It was now the beginning of June.

And Spencer hadn’t heard from any of the Winchesters.

He hadn’t called Sam right after he went back from the case because, well, he had gotten infected by anthrax during this one. He had almost died and, although he wouldn’t admit it, he had thought of Sam, in that moment.

Was he dead, too ? Would he see him again ? Would they meet in their usual coffee shop, or somewhere in the afterlife ?

Fortunately, he hadn’t died. But he couldn’t tell for sure about Sam.

Not until he received an email from him.

2009, June the 4th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hello Spencer,

I know it's been a while. I’m really sorry I wasn’t able explain everything, and I’m pretty sure I still couldn’t.

But I could try, right ?

I’ll settle down in Quantico for a while anyway, so I’m around if you want us to meet.

Sam.

2009, June the 6th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Sam,

I’m glad to see that you’re okay. I wouldn’t mind some explanations, though.

What about the usual place, 4pm, on the 8th ? I’ll wait for you outside.

Spencer.

He went straight to bed after that and, for the first time since the tenth of May, he slept through the whole night.

*

Sam was looking at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair and straightening his jacket over his flannel shirt.

He was staying at a hotel. Maybe he would get a flat somewhere around here. Quantico was nice.

He felt a little bit nervous. Well, very nervous actually. He was already on edge from getting sober from Ruby’s blood, but meeting with Spencer after several weeks of radio silence amplified his anxiety.

“It’s okay, you got this,” he muttered to himself.

But how could he explain that ? How could he explain he had failed to stop Lilith from freeing Lucifer and that, even worse, he had actually realized the last seal ?

How could he explain not having listened to his brother’s advice, and having gone completely off the track ? Having gotten into a huge fight which had resulted in them not even speaking to each other anymore ?

How could he explain that he had almost become one the very things he despised and swore to kill ?

How could he explain all of this without disappointing Spencer ?

He sighed loudly.

“You got this, you got this.”

*

Spencer was standing in front of the coffee shop, nervously clinging to his messenger bag, looking around for a familiar face.

Sam was looking at him from afar, hidden in the crowd of by-passers, on the other side of the street. He couldn’t go there. How could he, after everything he had one ?

Spencer looked at his watch before raising his head again, starting to turn on himself, still looking for Sam.

The hunter took a deep breath. Yeah, he could do it. He had too.

He walked up to him, putting a hand up so that Spencer would see him.

And he did. He saw him and his smile grew wider than Sam had ever had the chance to see. Spencer smiled and, for the first time since they had met, he reached out to him, offering a warm hand to shake.

As they exchanged a handshake, something jumped in Sam’s stomach. Maybe was it the apprehension, or the welcoming, affectionate tone of that handshake, or even the relieved smile still running on his friend’s face.

“Sam, I’m so glad to see you’re alright,” Spencer said, dropping his hand. “I mean, are you ?” he then added, frowning a little.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He shrugged. “Could be better but, still, alright. You ?”

Spencer was still trying to meet his gaze, but Sam was consciously staring at the coffee shop instead.

“…Are you sure you’re okay ?”

Sam finally looked at him, for a split second.

“Yeah, why ?”

*

Spencer knew.

Well, he didn’t exactly know what was wrong, but something was different about Sam. He seemed smaller, shyer, didn’t talk as much as before and with less confidence.

They had decided to go on a walk this time, once they ordered their coffees. They walked around the lake nearby, their feet crushing the grass as they sipped their drinks silently.

“The tenth of May,” Spencer muttered after ten minutes of complete silence.

“What ?”

“You sent me an email, on the tenth of May,” Spencer repeated, louder. He then recalled : “Hi Spencer, I’m in James Town, North Dakota.”

He paused for a second, glancing at Sam, then continued, speaking quickly :

“I’m about to do something big. It’s the thing to do, I know it. Dean won’t let me, but I escaped. He locked me up, can you beli-”

“I know what I said in the email,” Sam interrupted him, not going further.

“What were you talking about ?”

Sam stopped.

“I did it,” he managed to say, ignoring his brain screaming not to reveal anything. “I killed Lilith.”

Spencer had stopped walking too, but was still a bit ahead of him. He turned around and waited a few seconds before asking :

“What went wrong ?”

“Well,” Sam said, catching up to him, taking a sip of coffee. “Remember how she was trying to realize those seals to free Lucifer ?”

They had started walking again, but Sam was oddly straying away from Spencer, just enough for the young profiler to notice.

Spencer simply nodded, waiting for Sam to keep going.

“Me killing Lilith was the final seal,” he said, pinching his lips.

Spencer could almost feel his friend’s throat getting tight. He didn’t really understand how all these things about demons and angels worked yet, but there was one thing he knew :

“You were doing what you thought was good.”

Sam scoffed.

“You’re not going to blame me ?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, before drinking the rest of his coffee.

“Why would I ?” Spencer shrugged. “You and Dean’s goal was to kill her, and you did-”

Sam turned to him quickly.

“Dean and I’s goals were very different,” he explained, and Spencer could hear the repressed anger in his voice. “What he wanted to do would have taken us time – time we didn’t think we had at the moment. But I wanted to kill her myself, to get it over with, so that our lives could be peaceful for once.”

He was breathing heavily, and Spencer did his best not to back away, simply raising his eyebrows.

“Is that why he locked you up ?”

He expected more anger. He expected Sam to raise his voice, to get angry about Dean and let it all out on Spencer as a surrogate. He expected to get yelled at and see Sam break all hell loose in the middle of the park.

He expected pretty much everything, from insults directed towards Dean to a coffee flying above his head.

He expected pretty much everything, but not that.

Sam’s body language changed drastically. He instantly calmed down, looked away, and became all small and unconfident again. He seemed to avoid Spencer’s eyes at all cost, and was once again walking a bit away from him, as they kept following the lake’s outline.

“In order to kill Lilith,” Sam started, slowly, looking at his feet. “I had to become more powerful.”

Spencer listened carefully, not interrupting him.

“When I was a baby… A demon came into my room. He poured some of his blood in my mouth and it made me… Special, in some way.”

He paused, walked away for a second, tossing his empty coffee cup in a trashcan, and came back alongside Spencer. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly shaking.

“He was the one who killed my mom,” he said, looking at the ground. “I discovered last year that, if I were to drink demon blood again, it would bring out something in me. Powers, in a way, that allowed me to exorcise demons.”

Spencer was still listening quietly, his half-drunk coffee getting cold between his joined hands.

“I… Dean didn’t want me to go down this road.” Sam struggled to swallow his saliva. “I didn’t… I didn’t think…”

His voice broke a little, and he looked up, staring directly in front of him.

“I didn’t listen to him and, well, when he discovered it, he forced me into withdrawal. Locked me up for a few days, so that I wouldn’t be able to get Ruby’s blood. She was the demon that got me hooked up on it.”

“I’ve been clean ever since,” Sam added after a few seconds, “but Dean and I went our separate ways after Lucifer got out. And it’s all my fault.”

Spencer waited a few seconds before clearing his throat, just to be sure Sam was done.

“So… from what I understand – no judgement here, I just want to sum everything up – you got addicted to demon blood even though your brother told you not to, then killed Lilith using those newly acquired powers even though your brother also told you not to, therefore breaking the final seal and resulting in freeing Lucifer ?”

“Basically, yes,” Sam answered.

“I’m not going to lie,” Spencer started carefully, cringing. “It looks pretty bad.”

Sam sighed loudly.

“You’re still not mad at me ?”

Spencer stayed silent. He wasn’t mad. How could he ? No one wanted to get addicted to anything – he for sure knew – and something must have had triggered Sam at some point. He wondered what it had been that got him to try demon blood.

“As I said before, you were doing what you thought was right. But it’s great that you’re clean now, it means you’re ready to start getting better.”

Sam tried to smile – it came off as a wince.

“I still crave it sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “I feel so guilty about… about everything, actually. I don’t know if it will ever get better.” He turned to Spencer, looking him in the eyes. “If I will ever get better.”

Spencer smiled sadly.

“It does,” he affirmed. “And you will. Some things just take time.”

Sam shook his head.

“I wish I could believe you.”

“You don’t have to,” Spencer said and, as Sam raised an eyebrow, he added : “I can show you.”

They stopped near a bench and Spencer sat down, rummaging through his messenger bag, getting books, pens and even a computer out of it.

“Why do you have so many things in there ?” Sam half-laughed as he sat at the other end of the bench.

“My boss could call me any minute for a case, I prefer to be ready.”

Sam nodded.

Spencer finally found what he was looking for, and took the small item out of the bag, giving it to Sam for him to take a closer look.

It was a coin. A bronze chip, with the number two on one side. Sam turned it in his fingers a few times, before looking up to Spencer, who was pinching his lips awkwardly.

“I just got it,” Spencer said after a few seconds. “Two years clean.”

Sam gave the coin back, staying silent.

“It does get better,” Spencer said again.

“Do you ever think about… whatever it was you were taking ?” Sam asked carefully.

Spencer considered for a moment, looking at the lake.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“What stops you from relapsing ?” the young hunter asked.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. The conversation had gotten pretty personal, and he didn’t like to talk about his previous addiction outside of support groups. He met Sam’s eyes, and saw the struggle in the greenish-brownish pupils. They were the same colour as the leaves during mid-September.

Just starting to die.

“The people I love,” he finally answered. “I think about them and how I want to be a better person for them, and how relapsing would not allow that.”

Sam’s gaze became darker, browner.

“Everyone I love has left me,” he said, looking at his hands. “My mom first, then Jessica, my dad, now Dean… And I’m pretty sure Bobby doesn’t want to see my face ever again.”

“Who’s Jessica ?” Spencer asked before he could bribe himself not to.

The hunter shook his head, his hair swinging a little.

“Doesn’t matter. The point is : everyone leaves me, eventually.”

“Well…” Spencer started, turning to Sam, his knee bumping into his friend’s. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam looked up. He smiled. It was a shy, contained smile, but it went up to his eyes and his ears anyway.

Chapter Text

Sam started renting a little apartment in Quantico, and a job as a waiter in a restaurant not far. He and Spencer would meet every few days, sometimes eating together at Sam’s work, or in the coffee shop where they had become regulars.

He was in his uniform right now, just about to go to work, adjusting his tie and tucking his shirt in his pants, fixing his hair. He was eating lunch with Spencer later and, somehow, he wanted to look presentable.

Everyone wants to look good when eating with a friend, right ?

His morning shift was calm. There wasn’t many people coming in between 8 and 11 to get lunch. He still had to clean everything, set the tables and put drinks in the fridge. It wasn’t very busy today anyway, and so his manager let him take his break at 1:30 instead of the usual 2pm.

He sent a text to Spencer.

from : you
to : FBI (for real)

finished early this morning. want to come now ?

It only took a minute or so before his phone rang.

from : FBI (for real)
to : you

I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Sam smiled. He was about to get their usual order, when his phone rang again.

from : FBI (for real)
to : you

Can you get an extra plate of fries and a strawberry smoothie ?

Sam raised an eyebrow. He could do that, obviously, but why would Spencer want an extra plate of fries and a strawberry smoothie ? Maybe was he especially hungry today ?

from : you
to : FBI (for real)

sure :)

*

Sam brought the order to a table in one of the corners, a bit apart from the rest of the room. He contemplated folding the towels in a fancy way, decided it was too much, and simply set them under the plates. He didn’t have to wait long before Spencer walked in.

His hair – which were getting longer everyday – were messier than usual, and getting in his face as he looked down next to him.

Sam’s eyes followed his gaze, and landed on a little kid.

He couldn’t be above five, and kept tucking strands of his blonde hair – which definitely needed cutting – behind his ear with his right hand, the other one clutching to Spencer’s.

Sam frowned. Did Spencer have a kid all this time and never told him ?

“Hi,” Spencer smiled when he got to the table where Sam was waiting for him. “How are you ?”

“Uh…” Sam started, his eyes going back and forth between his friend and the kid trying to hide behind Spencer’s legs. “F-fine, yeah, I’m fine. You ?”

“A little tired,” Spencer admitted, nodding, pushing his hair away from his face. “Hey, Henry,” he added to the attention of the child. “Come say hello to my friend Sam.”

The kid got his head out of Spencer’s knees, and muttered :

“Hello Sam.”

“Hello,” Sam smiled, waving a little, before Henry hid again.

“Sorry about that,” Spencer whispered, wincing. “He’s a bit shy with strangers.”

So that’s what the extra plate of fries and strawberry smoothie was for, Sam thought.

“Do you, uh, want me to get another chair ?” he asked, pointing at the kid who was still trying to disappear into Spencer’s legs.

Spencer shook his head and picked the kid up, his little feet resting on each side of the profiler’s hip.

“He’ll want to eat on my lap,” he explained, his lips forming a thin smile.

*

Sam was pleasantly surprised by how calm Henry was. He ate only half his fries, but he didn’t bother him and Spencer, nor did he cry, threw a tantrum or asked to go to the bathroom more than once (Spencer still had to stop eating to go with him that one time he did). To sum it up, he did nothing Sam expected a four years old child to do. Instead, he was kind, polite, and very quiet.

“So,” Sam said as they were drinking coffee – and a strawberry smoothie for Henry. “I assume that’s your…”

“Godson,” Spencer nodded at the same time Sam finished :

“Son.”

“What ?” Spencer said, tilting his head. “Oh, no ! He’s not my son !”

Sam felt awkward, all of a sudden.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” he scoffed, embarrassed. “I thought he was yours, since you didn’t say anything, I just assumed…”

“That’s fine,” Spencer said, waving it away, tucking a strand of Henry’s hair behind the little kid’s ear. “He’s one of my colleague’s son, I’m his godfather. She asked me to babysit him for the day, and I couldn’t refuse...”

“It’s okay,” Sam said, taking a sip of coffee. It burnt his tongue. “I don’t mind at all, he’s very sweet.”

Henry was finished with his smoothie, and loudly sipped the last drops with his straw.

Sam was about to add something, but was interrupted by his manager putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen, but it’s time for Sam to go back to work, isn’t it Sam ?”

He had spoken kindly, but still with authority, and Sam sighed.

He wiped his mouth with his towel and got up, smiling at Spencer and Henry.

“Sorry, I have to go,” he said. “Bye little guy,” he then added, waving at the kid.

“Say goodbye to Sam,” Spencer gently said, stroking Henry’s hair.

He looked up and smiled a little.

“Bye Sam.”

“I’m bringing him back to his mom after his nap,” Spencer said, getting up, Henry in his arms. “When does your shift end ?”

Sam looked up for a moment, thinking.

“Uhhh 6pm, I think. Wanna hang out after ?”

“I’d love to,” Spencer answered, picking up his messenger bag.

Sam’s manager called him from the kitchen, and the ex-hunter excused himself.

*

“Mom !” Henry exclaimed, running into his mother’s arms.

JJ picked him up, holding him tight against her chest, drowning him in kisses and long blonde hair.

Spencer was standing in the doorway, putting down the bag which contained Henry’s stuff.

“How did it go ?” his colleague asked him, smiling.

“Perfectly,” Spencer answered. “He’s been adorable. He struggled a bit to fall asleep though, and I had to lie down next to him, but it was no problem.”

“Uncle Spence fell asleep too !” Henry giggled, pointing at his godfather.

The three of them laughed, until Henry added :

“We went to the westauwant !”

“The restaurant ?” JJ asked to the kid in a playful voice.

“Yes ! And Sam was hewe too !”

JJ turned to Spencer, tilting her head and frowning.

“Who’s Sam ?”

Spencer felt the heat coming to his cheeks, without understanding why. He was not embarrassed about Sam. He was allowed to have friends outside of work. Still, it felt like another part of his life.

“He’s a friend,” Spencer quickly replied. “I have to meet with him in thirty minutes by the way,” he then added. “I’ll better hurry up”.

JJ nodded, smiling.

“Thanks again for Henry.”

“It was my pleasure,” Spencer assured, waving. “Bye Henry !”

“Bye uncle Spence !”

*

“You never told me you had a godson.”

They were sitting on a bench, in a park, as they had planned. It was now 7pm, and Sam was still in his work uniform : a white shirt tucked in black pants, with a red tie and matching cufflinks. Spencer was wearing one of his numerous sweater vests above a grey shirt and, if you looked carefully, you could see mismatched socks under his high converses.

The park around them was still full of people : teenagers, mostly. Playing soccer, volleyball or just sitting and chatting. Some had brought picnic. A group of boys were pushing each others in the lake, playfully. The sun hadn’t even started setting, as it was early July. Birds were chirping, kids were laughing and screaming happily, water was splashing.

“It never seemed relevant,” Spencer shrugged.

“Is he part of the ones you think about ?”

“Uh ?” Spencer asked.

“When you think about relapsing. Do you think about him ?”

Spencer was a bit taken aback. He didn’t think Sam would bring it up again, just like all the other things they had silently agreed not to talk about.

But he knew that if Sam was talking about it, it was because he needed it. He needed to learn how to cope, how to escape the addiction and come back on the right path.

“Yeah, I do,” Spencer finally answered. “I do think about him.”

Sam nodded quietly, before clearing his throat.

“Sorry,” he said, getting up. “It’s getting late, you probably want to go home.”

Spencer didn’t want to go home. Well, yes, he was getting a bit hungry, but he didn’t want to leave Sam.

He had grown attached to it, to the time they spent together. To their coffees and their lunches and their strolls around the lake. To their talks and their silences and their routine.

Sam had only been living in Quantico for a month, and Spencer had already gotten used to his presence. They spent most of their free time together now and, without thinking, Spencer offered :

“We could eat at my apartment.”

Sam looked at him for a second, confused.

“I mean,” Spencer went on, suddenly flustered. “If you’d like, of course. We don’t have to.”

“No !” Sam quickly exclaimed. “I mean, yes, we could eat at your apartment, if you don’t mind.”

And Spencer couldn’t believe his eyes, but was Sam blushing ?

*

When Sam entered Spencer’s apartment, he was amazed by all the books. It seemed to be just books, everywhere. In the humongous library, sure, but also on the table, the couch, the arm rest of the chairs, on the counter, by the window, and even on the floor.

“Sorry for the mess,” Spencer quickly said, picking up books everywhere and putting them back in his library (not all of them could fit, so he had to put them on top of other books).

“You have so much books,” Sam whispered, impressed.

“Yeah, I love to read,” Spencer chuckled.

“I know,” Sam answered, looking around, discovering Spencer’s living room.

“Get yourself comfortable,” Spencer said from the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink ?”

“Do you have beer ?” Sam asked, sitting on one of the chairs around the table.

Spencer went back from the kitchen, wincing.

“Sorry, I don’t really have alcohol around, since I don’t usually drink,” he said. “I have some diet coke though. And Caprisun’s.”

Sam smiled. Spencer didn’t have beer in his apartment, but he had Caprisun’s ?

“I’ll take a diet coke, thanks.”

When Spencer came back again, with two glasses of coke this time, he apologized one more time :

“Really sorry about the beer.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Sam assured. “I should probably stop drinking anyway, we tend to have alcohol issues in the family.”

Spencer smiled.

“So it’s all good then ?”

“All good,” Sam smiled in return, their glasses clattering as they toasted.

“In what honour ?” Spencer asked.

“I’m one month clean today,” Sam announced, a bit proudly, before taking a sip of coke.

“Is it today ? That’s great, Sam !”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, please. The less I think about it, the better.”

Spencer made rice and steak, because it was easy to make and Spencer couldn’t cook complicated thing. As he had told Sam, they were already lucky not to eat instant noodles.

They had a great night and, at 9:30pm, it was time for Sam to go.

“Thanks again for having me,” he said as he was about to leave.

“It was a pleasure,” Spencer replied, smiling, opening the door for him.

They stood there for a solid ten seconds, Sam in the door frame and Spencer’s hands still on the handle. None of them wanted to leave the other one, but it was the normal, socially acceptable thing to do, right ?

Somehow, Sam didn’t want to go home. At all. He didn’t know why, didn’t know how, but he felt safe with Spencer. Safer than by himself.

“Bye Spencer,” he muttered, before going down the hallway’s stairs.

“Bye Sam.”

Spencer’s door closed, and Sam turned around, looking at the old wood for just a second.

*

When Spencer went to bed that night, his apartment felt empty. Previously filled with laughs, stories and chewing sounds, the silence seemed deafening.

As he put on his pyjamas and slipped under the cover, he couldn’t help but think about Sam. Sam’s smile, Sam’s eyes, Sam’s voice. How Sam’s hair would feel, how his own name sounded between Sam’s lips. How Sam looked like in his work uniform and in flannel shirts. How Sam had looked like in the lake, months ago, soaking wet and out of breath, when he had saved his life.

Fuck, Spencer thought, noticing he was getting hard.

Sexual attraction wasn’t something Spencer was used to. He experienced it, sometimes, but it was very rare, and he couldn’t remember getting that hard just thinking about someone since his college years. Especially when that someone was just a friend.

Fuck, he thought again, getting a hand in his pants.

*

In his own apartment, Sam had just gotten out of the shower. He only wore a pair of boxers and socks, sitting shirtless on his couch. He wasn’t tired yet, and didn’t really feel like turning the TV on. His mind drifted towards something more pleasant than the usual hunts and Lucifer-related things.

Sam had always had a very vivid imagination, since he was a kid. He used to be able to picture the things he read about, hear songs that had never been sung before, do math in his head by just visualizing the equations.

Right now, he could almost feel the large hands on his muscular bare chest, the teeth nipping at his neck’s skin and the weight of someone straddling his lap. He blushed, realizing that, in his fantasy, he felt something hard against his thigh.

Sam knew he wasn’t heterosexual. He didn’t really care, actually, about the gender of his partner. He had been with men before but, for whatever reason, he felt awkward fantasizing about it at that moment.

Maybe because those hands felt too familiar, like he had seen them around a cup of coffee before, or because he could swear those teeth belonged to a mouth who couldn’t help but spit out facts and statistics about everything.

Sam had started stroking himself above his boxers already and, well, he knew very well where this was going. And he felt terrible about it.

Spencer and he were just friends. Nothing more. He could bet Spencer wasn’t interested in him the slightest. Why would he be sitting on his couch instead of laying in the FBI agent’s bed, otherwise ?

*

Spencer had his hand around his cock, doing slow up-and-down motions. His breath was starting to get heavy, and his pajamas’ pants were sitting just under his hips. His back was resting against his mattress, his head uplifted by two pillows.

He hastened his rhythm, sucking in a breath as his dick started to leak a little. His thumb wiped over the head, and he flinched in pleasure.

*

Sam was groaning softly, his hand working faster each second. He wasn’t going to last long, but it didn’t matter. His hand felt like Spencer’s, and he closed his eyes, picturing his friend’s face, talking with a cup of coffee in his large hands, his long fingers closing around the lid as he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear with his free hand.

Spencer’s hands really were something, and Sam couldn’t help but focus on them and on the things they would do if Spencer was actually here.

*

Spencer had his head thrown back. He was almost there, almost there. He just needed a few more strokes and…

His legs were shaking a little as he moaned quietly, keeping on stroking himself for a few seconds until his orgasm wore off. Spencer kept his head like that, exposing his neck to a ghostly mouth, his Adam apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, breathless, sweating a little.

Shit, he thought. I need to take a shower.

*

Sam’s muscles were tense. His cock was covered in pre-come, his hand sliding on it effortlessly. His eyes were still closed when he came, moaning loudly, long stripes of come shooting on his stomach.

He waited a little while before opening his eyes, keeping the fantasy’s silhouette with him as long as possible. He eventually got up, cleaning himself with damp paper towel.

I’m fucked, he thought. Totally, utterly fucked.

Chapter Text

They were sat at their usual table at the coffee shop, cups in hands, when Sam’s tone became more serious and, Spencer had to admit it, he was a bit afraid of what would follow.

“I, um…” Sam started, obviously uncomfortable. “I had a dream last night.” He shifted in his sit. “I mean, I’m not even sure it was a dream,” he then added.

Spencer was listening carefully. It was late August now, and they had grown even closer. Spencer was doing his best to suppress what he was starting to feel towards Sam, after Sam had come eat at his apartment. He still felt ashamed about what had happened once his friend had left.

“The point is,” Sam went on, taking a deep breath. “Lucifer visited me.”

“He… Visited you ?” Spencer repeated.

Sam nodded, looking around him to make sure no one was listening, speaking lower.

“He told me I was his true vessel and that, sooner or later, I’d have to allow him to possess me.”

Spencer’s jaw dropped, but he quickly closed his mouth, not wanting to be rude.

“The devil needs your permission to possess you ?” was all he could think to ask.

Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, I know, but he’s technically still an angel, so…”

“Oh, yeah, I see.”

They stayed silent for a little while, sipping coffee, avoiding each other’s gaze. But the words were running in Spencer’s brain, and he couldn’t think of anything else. He had to ask.

“What are you going to do ?”

Sam slowly looked up from his hands. His eyes were glowing, and Spencer didn’t know if his friend was sad, angry, afraid or lost.

Maybe he was a little bit of everything.

“I called Dean,” he admitted, looking at his hands again. “I have to go back into business.”

Spencer tried to look him in the eyes, but Sam wouldn’t.

“You’re leaving ?”

Sam didn’t answer. He just took a long, atrociously long sip of coffee.

“We’ll keep in touch, right ?”

Sam nodded.

“Yes, yes of course.”

A few seconds went by before Spencer spoke again.

“When do you-”

“Tomorrow,” Sam interrupted him, setting his empty cup on the table.

“Oh.”

Spencer couldn’t find anything else to say. These three months had been some of the happiest months of his life. If he had to be honest, he couldn’t properly remember how not having Sam in his life was like. He loved everything they shared, everything they did together. Going back to a life without Sam Winchester had never even been an option for Spencer.

*

They just exchanged an awkward handshake after Sam payed for the coffee. Spencer’s hand had squeezed his a little too hard, leaving a slightly red mark, and Sam couldn’t help but stare at it during his trip back to the apartment he no longer rented. He would put the keys in the mailbox the next day before being picked up by Dean, who was already on his way.

It was Stanford all over again. He would never get out of the hunting life. The universe seemed to work against it, to do everything possible to keep Sam in the life his dad had chosen for him. He would never get out.

At least he had managed to steal a little time. A few years with Jessica, a few months with Spencer. Although the two situations were very different, they also felt oddly similar.

He promised himself he wouldn’t cry. And he didn’t. When Dean knocked at his door, he had packed all his stuff already, and got in the impala without looking back.

*

2009, September the 1st
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Sam,

I promised myself I wouldn’t write to you before the end of the month and, well, I couldn’t wait anymore.

How are things going with Dean ? Did you two make up ?

I went to the park with Henry the other day, we had a great time. He asked me why you weren’t here, I think he had grown attached to you. He told me he was going to miss you. He’s not the only one.

I hope you’re alright.

Spencer.

2009, September the 20th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer,

I’m perfectly okay, thank you. Dean and I are in good terms again, so that’s great. We’ve argued before, we’ll probably argue again, we’re kind of used to it now, I guess.

I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner, but we’ve been very busy lately. We’re looking for the Colt, which is a gun that can kill (almost) anything and, well, we could use it right now.

God, Henry. This kid truly is adorable. You know what ? I miss him too. Not only him, though.

Tell Henry I said hi the next time you see him.

Sam.

2009, October the 12th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Sam,

I’m glad to see you’re okay, and that you and your brother are good now. See, I don’t have any siblings, but I hate confrontation when it comes to the people I’m close to, and I was concerned that the situation with your brother would stay bad for too long.

I’m sending you all my courage for the Colt, by the way.

Henry says hi too. I took him to a fast food last week, you should have seen him eating his burger. It was too big for his mouth, and it was hilarious to see him trying to take a full bite anyway.

Be sure to tell me if you come near Quantico, maybe I could say hi to you and your brother :)

Spencer.

2009, November the 10th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Hi Spencer,

It’s been almost a month, sorry again. Time passes extremely quickly, these days, and I can barely catch my breath before Dean drags me into another case or something Lucifer-related.

It’s funny that you ask if we’re coming soon, because Dean just told me there was something in Quantico we should look into. We’ll be there tomorrow, and I’ll call you as soon as we’re finished with the case, if that’s okay with you.

Take care of you,

Sam.

*

Spencer was all smiles and laughs that day at work, and his colleagues obviously noticed. No one said anything though, they were just all relieved to see their youngest team member being happy again. They had noticed he was more quiet than usual, since summer had ended, but every time anyone had tried to talk to him about it, he had avoided the topic, saying he was fine, or just a bit tired.

Three days later, as he was sitting at his desk at 8:12 am, filling in paperwork, his phone rang. The name “Jimmy-Sam” appeared on the screen, and Spencer quickly left the room, excusing himself to his co-workers, who were looking at him suspiciously.

“What’s with the kid ?” Prentiss asked, turning to Morgan, who shrugged.

Spencer was in an empty hallway when he picked up his friend’s call.

“Hello ?”

“Hi Spencer, this is Sam. I hope I’m not bothering you or anything.”

“No, not at all !” Spencer answered, starting to pace. “So, how is the case going ?”

“Great ! It was an easy one, we just finished.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Spencer said, nodding.

He stopped pacing, suddenly realising.

“Hum, I’m at work right now…” he started, hesitating. “I can’t really meet with you, I’m sorry.”

“Oh it’s fine,” Sam quickly replied through the phone. “Dean and I stayed up all night, I was planning on taking a nap anyway. What about tonight ?”

“Yeah, yeah, tonight’s fine.”

“Perfect ! I’ll pick you up at your apartment, is 8:30 alright ?”

“8:30 ? Spencer repeated. Yes, 8:30 is fine. I’ll be ready for 8:30 then.”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “See you tonight, 8:30.”

“8:30,” Spencer said once again, before Sam hung up.

*

“How do I look ?”

Sam had just gotten out of the bathroom, in a white shirt and nice jeans. His hair had been combed, and Dean could smell his cologne from the motel’s room couch where he was seated.

“Fine,” his big brother answered, nodding.

“Just fine ?” Sam asked, his brows and the corners of his mouth falling a little.

Dean got up and adjusted the young hunter’s collar, before stepping back.

“Perfect,” he said, putting two thumbs up.

“Are you sure ?” Sam asked, turning around to look at himself in the mirror again. “I haven’t seen him for two month and a half !”

“Come on, you’re a handsome young man !” Dean exclaimed, patting his brother’s shoulder. “Go, you’ll be late,” he then added, giving him his car keys.

Sam looked at the key, widening his eyes in disbelief.

“You’re letting me take the Impala ?”

“You don’t pick up a date on foot,” Dean replied. “Now go !”

Sam smiled, before exiting the room.

*

He fixed his hair one last time before knocking to Spencer’s door, which shouted “I’m coming !” from the inside of his apartment.

It only took a couple minutes before Spencer showed up, looking tired, as usual, with disheveled hair and one of his sweater vests. He was probably still wearing the clothes he had been wearing all day at work, and Sam thought that he was even prettier than the last time he had seen him.

“Hi,” Spencer said, raising a hand.

“Hi,” Sam replied, smiling. “Are you ready ?”

Spencer looked at his watch.

“Well, it’s only 8:29, but yes, I’m ready.”

*

“Isn’t that your brother’s car ?” Spencer asked as he got in the Impala.

Sam sat at the wheel, turning the engine on.

“He lets me borrow it sometimes,” he simply answered, not wanting to admit that Dean very rarely let someone else drive Baby.

When they parked in front of a restaurant, Spencer bit his lip.

“Did you call for a reservation ?” he asked, wincing. “I know they don’t allow people to eat there without one.”

Sam smiled proudly.

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“Oh,” Spencer said, pleasantly surprised.

They spent a great evening, catching up on everything they had missed during these two months and a half apart.

“Wait,” Spencer said at one point, holding a laugh in. “You actually had to pretend you were in a genital herpes add ?”

“That’s the thing,” Sam answered, still scandalized. “I was in the add, and I couldn’t escape until I said the line !”

They both laughed and Sam added :

“I think the funniest thing was seeing Dean being all flustered when we met Doctor Sexy, you should have seen the look on his face when he saw him come down the hall !”

Spencer laughed again.

“I tried to confront him about it because, you know,” Sam went on. “He’s clearly not straight, but he doesn’t want to admit it. I blame our dad for that.”

“Was he homophobic ?” Spencer asked, suddenly serious again.

Sam raised his eyebrows and sighed.

“That’s an understatement. He surprised me with a boy once, I thought I was going to die.”

Spencer stayed silent. So Sam wasn’t heterosexual. Too bad they were just friends, really.

“I left for Stanford shortly after. I think that’s one of the reasons he told me not to come back ever again.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Spencer said softly, swallowing hard.

“How did it go for you ?”

Spencer was a bit taken aback. He had never told anything about being bisexual to Sam. How could he have known ?

“Sorry,” Sam quickly said. “I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Spencer replied. “Your assumptions were good, it’s just that… I’ve never really came out to anyone before.”

“Oh.”

*

Sam had been so scared for a second to have offended Spencer. He had done the same thing he had done with Henry when he had first met the kid. Assumed something about Spencer’s private life. Even though he was right this time, he still felt bad about it.

It surprised him that the kid had never done his coming out. He hadn’t really had the chance to come out to his dad, but he had told Dean before. He had discussed it with Jess too, telling her he didn’t want to label himself and just went with the flow.

“My mom, well, her schizophrenia was getting worse when I realized I also liked men, and I didn’t want to make it all about me…” Spencer said. “My dad left when I was a kid, so I never really had the chance to tell him. “I don’t think my co-workers would be homophobic,” he added, thinking. “They’d be really supportive, I think, but I don’t really see the point in telling them I’m bisexual, you know ?”

“Yeah, I can get that.”

The night went by, going back to stories and laughs.

Sam insisted to pay, since he had been the one to make the reservation, and brought Spencer back to his apartment.

“I had a great evening,” Spencer admitted as he got out of the impala.

“Me too,” the hunter smiled.

“Good night Sam, tell me next time you come by,” Spencer said, slamming the car door.

“I sure will,” Sam replied, having lowered the passenger’s window to keep talking to Sam. “Good night Spencer.”

He waited until the young FBI agent stepped inside of the building before leaving, back to the motel room he shared with Dean.

Chapter Text

It was almost Christmas already. Sam and Dean were still struggling with the whole Lucifer and Michael thing, picking up case after case to stay distracted from the imminent threat, whereas Spencer and the BAU were locking as many serial killers behind the bars as possible.

Spencer was a bit saddened, that night. Nothing was wrong, apart from the weird wave of sadness that was submerging him suddenly, for no apparent reason. So he picked up his laptop, sat comfortably on his bed, opened his email box, and started answering to Sam’s latest email.

2009, December the 17th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Dear Sam,

How are you ? I know it’s only been, what, four days, since your last email, but I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather today, and I thought writing to you would cheer me up a little.

You’ve probably noticed that it will soon be Christmas. I usually spend it with my mom, either in her institution or at a hotel, if they agree to let her leave for a few days. The thing is, I won’t be able to do any of these things this year. According to the doctors who just called me today, she is not ‘stable’ enough and her new meds are making it impossible for her to get any visits until she stabilizes, which will take a month or so.

Do you and your brother celebrate Christmas, by the way ? I mean, it originally is a Christian event and according that you know angels and demons and the devil are real… Well, does it still have a point ?

I remember being all excited for Christmas as a child, even though I knew Santa Claus didn’t exist. I still pretended I did, because my parents were putting in so much effort to hide the secret from me. I kind of miss this.

I was right. Writing to you did cheer me up. I’m glad I did.

Spencer.

2009, December the 20th
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Dear Spencer,

I’m alright, thank you. Are you ? You did seem sad in your email, and I’m sorry about your mom. I hope she’ll get better soon.

Well, I never got a real Christmas, for as long as I remember. Dad was always too busy going on cases, and we never could afford a tree anyway. However, Dean always made sure to get me something, and I did the same as soon as I was allowed to go to the store alone.

So, yeah, we celebrate it. Not in the traditional way, but we do, when we can. We were actually thinking about doing a real one, this year. Castiel, the angel I told you about, wants to know more about modern human culture, and he’s never had a real Christmas either.

We’d be more than happy if you’d join. I mean, you don’t have to, of course. We’re planning to do it at Bobby’s place. I told you about Bobby, didn’t I ? He lives near Sioux Falls, North Dakota.

Once again, you don’t have to, and I know it’s a bit far… but since it seems you’re going to spend Christmas alone… Well, you’re welcome at Singer Salvage Yard on the 24th evening.

Sam.

2009, December the 22nd
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Dear Sam,

Guess who booked an airplane trip for Sioux Falls, North Dakota, on 12/24 ?

Yeah, I did. I hesitated a bit, because I was afraid I would intrude, but it would still be better than spending Christmas alone, right ?

It was very nice of you to offer me to come. Can you please tell me who’ll be there, and what kind of things they like, so that I can at least get a present for everyone ?

See you on the 24th !

Spencer.

2009, December the 22nd
From : [email protected]
To : [email protected]

Dear Spencer,

I’m really happy that you’re coming. And, don’t worry, you won’t intrude at all ! Dean is glad you’re coming too, he wants to meet you properly.

It will only be Bobby, Castiel, Dean, you and me. I’d tell you not to get us anything, but I know how stubborn you can be, so I’m not even gonna bother.

About Bobby : he’s one of the best hunters I’ve ever met. He practically raised Dean and me, since Dad often dropped us off at his when we were kid. He took us fishing more than once, I think he still goes to the lake sometimes.

For Dean : well, you already know a bit about him. You’ve even met him once. He likes, well, cars. He’s kind of a nerd, too. He watches a lot of superhero and horror movies. Marvel, Shining, things like that.

And Castiel. Well. He’s an angel. I don’t really know what he likes. He mentioned bees once, I don’t know if he was serious or not. I think he was.

I hope these little descriptions will be useful to you. Don’t get anything too fancy, please.

Castiel and l will come get you at the airport, see you in two days !

Sam.

*

Spencer texted Sam when he landed, wandering through the airport to the exit, dragging a little suitcase behind him, his messenger bag around his neck.

As soon as he got out, he saw Sam, waving at him, smiling. He was wearing a blue plaid shirt, and his hair had gotten a little longer. Well, if Spencer was honest, his own hair definitely needed cutting.

As he approached, putting on a warm smile as well, he noticed a man next to Sam. He was shorter, had black hair and was wearing a long beige trench-coat.

“Is it him ?” the man asked when Spencer got close enough.

Sam didn’t answer, and came to hug Spencer instead.

“It’s so good to see you !” he exclaimed.

“How are you ?” Spencer asked, blushing a bit.

“Good, good,” Sam assured, nodding, before turning to the man. “Castiel, this is Spencer, Spencer, Castiel.”

He had said that gesturing between the two of them, and Spencer raised a hand.

“Hi,” he simply said.

“Hello,” Castiel replied.

Spencer was as surprised as relieved when he realized Castiel wasn’t going to shake his hand. As odd as it could seem, it looked like the angel was as socially awkward as the young FBI agent.

“Ready to go ?” Sam asked, clapping in his hands.

“Yeah, where did you park the car ?”

Sam opened his mouth for a few seconds.

“Shit, I forgot to tell you,” he finally said, and Spencer frowned. “Castiel zapped us here, I hope you don’t mind a bit more flying ?”

Spencer was still frowning, until his eyes went wide.

“You can actually fly ?” he asked, turning to Castiel, who nodded.

“It will only take a few seconds, and you won’t really feel like you’re flying but, yes, my wings are fully functional,” the angel answered.

“Wings ?” Spencer whispered.

“Mortals can’t see them.”

Spencer sounded a little disappointed at that.

“Oh.”

A second later though, Castiel had grabbed both of them and they disappeared.

*

When Spencer felt the floor under his feet again, he thought he was going to throw up at first.

He stumbled a little before Sam caught his arm, preventing him from falling.

“Thanks,” Spencer said once he regained his balance, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face.

“No problem.”

The FBI agent could see that Sam was trying to hide a smile, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked around him. They were in front of a house. An old, used, cosy-looking wooden house.

“Come on in,” Sam said, walking up the stairs to the porch and opening the door.

Spencer followed him and, as soon as he had put a foot inside the house, he received something in the face. He coughed, surprised, wiping the water out of his eyes. He opened his mouth in surprise, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Sorry kid,” a rough voice said. “Just makin’ sure.”

A man was standing in front of him. Well, he was sitting in front of him, in a wheelchair. He had a beard, and seemed quite old (way older than Sam, at least). He was closing a little flask, putting it back on the counter behind him.

“W-what ?” Spencer asked, looking around for Sam, which was dying from laughter on the side.

“Bobby,” he started, calming down. “This is Spencer, my friend I told you about. Spencer, this is Bobby.”

“Hi Sir, it’s very nice to meet you,” Spencer said, finishing to wipe his face with his sleeve. “Is, uh, is there any reason you just splashed me with water ?” he then asked, raising an eyebrow and wincing.

“Well,” Bobby scoffed, turning around with his wheelchair. “Had to make sure you weren’t a demon, you never know these days.”

Spencer frowned, a bit offended.

“Y-you had to make sure I wasn’t a demon ?” his voice had gotten high pitched at the end, which made Bobby laugh again.

“I’ll take your things upstairs,” Sam said, signalling to Spencer to follow Bobby in a large room, separated from the hallway by two sliding doors.

Spencer nodded, giving his suitcase and messenger bag to his friend. He felt a little exposed without the latest, but that was okay. These were all people Sam trusted. He was safe.

When he entered the room, he couldn’t refrain a gasp. Half the living room was filled with old, worn books. When he could make up what was written on the spine, Spencer realized that they weren’t all in English. Some were in Latin, in Greek, and some in other old languages he couldn’t possibly read.

“Wow, this is a really nice library you have here, Mr. Singer,” Spencer said.

“Just call me Bobby,” the owner of the house groaned. “So, is it true you’re a fed ?”

“Yes Sir,” Spencer answered, because it didn’t feel appropriate to call him Bobby.

“What department are you in ?”

“The behavioral analysis unit, Sir.”

Bobby nodded, and a man came in from the adjacent room, which looked like the kitchen from what Spencer was able to see. He had light messy short hair and, even though he seemed tired, he had that playful smirk on his face.

“Isn’t that Dr Spencer Reid !” the man exclaimed, coming close and holding his hand out for Spencer to shake.

Spencer quickly took a step back, smiling awkwardly. Three people were staring at him now : Mr Singer, Castiel, and the blonde man he had already met many months ago at a crime scene.

“Sam told me you weren’t big on handshakes,” Dean said, retreating his hand to put his thumb in the pocket of his jeans. “That’s fine, uh, I’m Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam told me about you,” Spencer said, trying not to be too awkward.

“He told us a lot about you too,” Dean replied, chuckling. “Spencer here, Spencer there… Wait, is it true you have three PhDs ?”

Spencer was starting to blush.

“Yeah, hum, in mathematics, physics and engineering.”

Sam came into the room, clearing his throat, and the attention got on him again.

“Let him breathe a little, would you ?” he said, standing next to Spencer.

Dean looked at the old clock on the wall and clapped his hands, heading to the kitchen

“It’s already eight pm, who wants a beer ?”

Everyone ended up getting one, even Spencer and Castiel, who had originally said they were okay. Bobby was sitting in his wheelchair next to the fireplace, and was chatting with Sam and Dean, who were on the couch.

Spencer was standing in front of the shelves, looking at the books, his beer still full in hand. They were so many, and they all looked so old…

“Hunter lore, for the most,” a deep voice said right next to him, startling him.

He turned around, only to see Castiel looking at the shelves as well, standing way too close to him.

“Sorry,” the angel said, stepping away. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re not drinking either ?” Spencer chuckled, pointing at Castiel’s full beer.

Castiel took a sip of it, before shrugging.

“I don’t need to drink, nor to eat. It doesn’t have any taste for me. But Dean seems to appreciate me drinking this, so…”

Spencer hid a smile. He remembered Sam telling him that these two definitely had something going on. He could see it as well, in their body language and how they looked at each other for a second too long every time their eyes would meet from across the room.

“Cas, Spencer !” Dean called from the couch. “Come sit with us !”

The angel and the FBI agent took chairs from the kitchen and came next to the couch.

“You really have a lot of books, Mr Singer,” Spencer said, trying to start a conversation.

“Years of research,” the man simply sighed. “From what Sam told me, you’ve got a great collection as well.”

Spencer nodded, taking a sip of beer, and trying his best not to wince at the sour taste. Dean got up and left for a few seconds, and Spencer heard the fridge’s door open and close.

“Thank you for the cases, by the way,” Dean said coming back from the kitchen with two more beers for him and Sam (Bobby wasn’t allowed to drink too much because of his medical condition). “I was a bit skeptical at first, I must admit.” He opened their bottles with the bottom of a knife. “But you always did a great job.”

“Well,” Spencer stuttered for a second before managing to speak. “When I stumble upon weird cases, I just do a little bit of research, and if it looks like it could be one of yours, I dig a little more, and then I give everything to Sam.”

They talked all night, even when they started to eat. It was nothing fancy, just rice and steak, with a great sauce Bobby had cooked, but it was still way better than what Spencer would have eaten if he had stayed alone in Quantico. The only Christmas-related thing in the room was, in fact, the tree, who was decorated with red and silver tinsels.

They talked about the FBI, and hunts, and Dean was delighted to see that Spencer was getting almost all his pop-culture references (the ones about Star-Trek and Doctor Who, at least). After they ate desert (an apple pie, because it was Dean’s favourite and no one else had a preference), Spencer excused himself and asked Sam where he had put his stuff.

He went upstairs, following Sam’s indications, and opened the door of the bedroom he was supposed to sleep in tonight. He didn’t think too much about the fact that there was only three rooms upstairs, one of them being a bathroom. The idea that he’d have to double up with someone crossed his mind, but he didn’t let it linger, chasing it away while opening his suitcase.

He came back down, holding a few packages, and put them down under the tree with the few others.

What was funny about the tree was how good it looked in between the bookshelves and the dark wood, and yet so out of place, with its little angel on the top. Spencer smiled. There was two angels in the room tonight.

When the time came to open the presents, it was past midnight, and everyone gathered around the tree.

They decided not to make a big deal out of it, and everyone just opened their presents without really commenting on anything. Spencer made sure to look at everyone’s faces when they opened the gifts he had gotten them. Dean put on a bright smile opening the Captain America DVDs (the trilogy, no less !), and Bobby looked rather surprised, but delighted when he discovered the fishing kit Spencer had bought (he wasn’t sure about this one). Dean had to help Castiel put on the watch, of which the dial was decorated with a white, simple bee design. The angel seemed to love it.

But Spencer was very anxious about Sam’s package. He had thought a very long time, not really knowing what to get him. He knew so much and so little about him. He knew he had studied pre-law at Stanford, that he was now a hunter, and that he loved literature (fantastic, especially). He knew he loved dogs, but he couldn’t get one because Dean hated them, and that his laptop was one the most precious things he owned. He had thought about getting him a book at first. The Hobbit, maybe, Narnia, perhaps, or even the Percy Jackson series – all books Spencer remembered loving as a kid. But that was the thing : Sam wasn’t a kid, and he was afraid it would all seem too childish.

Getting Sam a puppy was out of the question, since between Dean and the hunting lifestyle, it would just be too many troubles. He then had remembered that one time around a cup of coffee when Sam had complained about how his laptop was getting slower with the years, but that he didn’t really want to bother getting a new one, since almost all their money was stolen (and when it was earned, it was thanks to Dean’s pool talents or Sam’s cards counting abilities). During the three months he had worked at the restaurant, Sam had only gathered enough money to afford renting his apartment and inviting Spencer to dinner every few days.

When Sam unwrapped the laptop, his eyes went wide, before flying across the room and lending on Spencer, who was smiling.

“Do you like it ?” the profiler mouthed from across the room.

Sam got closer, the half-wrapped laptop still in hands.

“Spencer that… that’s too much, I can’t accept this.”

He was at a loss for words, and Spencer noticed how embarrassed his friend was, so he just shrugged.

“It’s not that much,” he replied. “The FBI pays really well, and I know you needed a new one so, here.”

“But-”

“Plus,” Spencer interrupted him promptly. “It made me happy when I got it for you, so don’t make me regret buying it.”

Sam smiled.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t believe it. Spencer had gotten him a fucking laptop ? Besides, it seemed like a quite expensive one. There was no way he could accept it. But the smile on Spencer’s face was too bright for him to protest any more, so he set his brand-new computer on the table and wrapped his arms around the FBI agent’s back. He knew Spencer didn’t really like hugs, but when he felt another set of arms closing around his own back, patting him awkwardly, his stomach jumped a little, and he stepped away.

“Thanks Spence, really, you didn’t have to.”

He saw his friend’s expression twitch a little at the nickname, but none of them mentioned it.

“So, hum…” Spencer started, rocking on his feet. “Dean, Bobby and Castiel all got me lore books about the supernatural. They all seem great.”

“I may have mentioned that you were really interested in what we do,” Sam said innocently with a proud smile. “Have you opened mine yet ?”
Spencer grabbed the last present, which he had set on the edge of the couch.

“I kept it for last,” he chuckled, before starting to unwrap it.

It was a box. A shoe box, to be precise, decorated with red, black and grey paint. The designs looked like bloody smoke.

Spencer opened the box carefully. Inside, there was an envelope and a smaller package wrapped in Kraft paper, with a big H on it.

“This one’s for Henry,” Sam said, and Spencer looked up.

“You bought something for Henry ?” the FBI agent asked, with wide eyes. “You didn’t have to !”

Sam smiled, repeating Spencer’s words from earlier.

“It made me happy, so don’t make me regret buying it.”

Spencer smirked, and then took the envelope. He turned it a little in his large hands, his slender fingers going over the lid several times before opening it.

There was a little rigid card in it, dark green and with an inscription on it reading Barnes & Noble gift card.

“I didn’t really know what to hum, what to get you,” Sam started, speaking quickly and stuttering a little. “An-and I know you love reading, and so I guessed you’d rather ch-choose the books than me, hum, getting some… You read so much, I didn’t want to take the risk of, hum, getting you one you’ve already read and-”

“Sam,” Spencer interrupted. “It’s great, it’s perfect, thank you.”

The hunter’s face relaxed, and he chuckled.

“I’m glad you like it.”

*

When the night came to an end and everyone was ready to go to bed, Dean took Spencer apart for a few minutes, bringing him to the kitchen.

“Listen here, pal,” he started, his tone serious, and Spencer wondered what was wrong. “Bobby sleeps down here on the couch, and Cas and I are sharing a room. The last room will be for you and Sammy,” Dean raised a finger in front of Spencer’s face. “But no funny business, alright ?”

Oh, so that is what it was about. The whole “big brother” thing. Well, he didn’t need to worry.

“Sam and I are just friends !” he quickly said, starting to blush. “I understand your concerns, but really, we’re friends.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Cas and I are friends too, and-”

Spencer shook his head, looking down at the slightly shorter man.

“I-I don’t- I don’t want to know.”

“Great,” Dean said, nodding. “Still,” he repeated, “no funny business.”

“Promise.”

Sam came in the kitchen at that moment, already in his pyjamas. Grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

“What are you two talking about ?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

“Nothing,” Dean replied. “I was just telling Spencer here,” he patted the FBI agent’s shoulder, and Spencer flinched a little at that “where he’ll be sleeping, that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said, taking a sip. “I forgot to ask but you don’t mind sharing a room, do you ?”

Spencer shook his head, his hair jiggling a little.

*

Spencer had put on his own pajamas, a simple shirt way too big for him and fluid pants with blue stripes. He came into the room, where Sam was already sat on the bed, a book in his hands.

“So, hum, there’s not really another mattress or a couch…” the young hunter winced.

“I don’t mind,” Spencer shrugged. “Unless you mind, then I can probably sleep on the floor…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“Alright then.”

Spencer sat on the other edge of the bed. They both sat there awkwardly for a minute or two, Spencer taking off his socks and putting his phone on the bed table while Sam was still reading his book.

Eventually, Sam yawned and closed his book, getting up to turn off the light and turning on the bedside lamp.

“I’m so tired,” Sam said in another yawn.

“Yeah, me too,” Spencer replied. “I think the whole… angel fly thing has something to do with it.”

Sam nodded, getting under the covers.

“Probably.”

After Spencer got under the covers too, he thought out loud :

“I wonder how you hunters get money. I mean, I know you and your brother do credit cards scams, but does everyone do that ?”

Sam turned a second to look at him before looking at the ceiling again.

“Well, a lot of us do. The most honest of us find themselves a job. I know some people who run a bar, others who work in the police…”

“Why don’t you and Dean do that ?”

Sam looked at him again.

“For these people, hunting is only a part-time job. Something they do on week-ends, or from time to time, when there’s a case near them. We were raised to become hunters. We don’t wait for monsters and spirits to come to us : we come to them.” He took a deep breath, before looking at the ceiling once more. “We can’t lead a normal life. I’ve tried, believe me : first at Stanford, then in Quantico…” His voice broke a little, and he cleared his throat before going on. “There’s always something calling me back to this lifestyle, I can’t help it. Dean never knew how to do something else either. I think he would have liked to become a mechanic, if things had turned out differently.”

Spencer took a few seconds before answering :

“Well, your life doesn’t have to be all written up before you even live it. I don’t believe in destiny, actually, so maybe if both of you quit hunting…”

Sam turned, resting on one of his elbows.

“No, you don’t understand,” he started. “Dean and I… our life has always been dictated. By God, by the angels, the demons… there seems to be this… this big plan around us. I’m supposed to be Lucifer’s true vessel, and the same goes for Dean with Michael. We literally tried to change it.”

“How ?” Spencer asked.

“We sort of got sent in the past ?” Spencer opened his eyes wide, turning to him as well, his mouth open, and Sam quickly added : “Don’t ask me how, it’s an angel thing.”
Spencer closed his mouth.

“We tried to prevent my mom making a deal with the demon that later killed her but… it happened anyway. You can choose not to believe in destiny, Spencer, but Dean and I’s fate is pretty much all written already.”

“So what ?” Spencer’s voice was a bit high pitched. “Y-you’re going to become Lucifer ?”

“Well, eventually, I guess. If this is how it’s supposed to go…”

They both sighed heavily and lied on their back.

“I’m sorry, Spence,” Sam said softly.

Spencer blushed at the nickname, once again. God, he had to stop blushing at the smallest things.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” the hunter went on. “I’m a bit anxious these days. I mean, even more than usual.”

“Understandable,” Spencer replied. “Considering everything going on in your life at the moment.”

“How do you manage stress ?”

Spencer shrugged.

“I usually don’t. I ignore it and it eventually goes away. I wouldn’t recommend, though.” He paused for a bit. “But when things get real bad I just… I read, I drown myself into books and papers and cases. Sleeping helps too.”

“Well,” Sam yawned. “I guess I’ll go with sleeping tonight.”

He turned to the other side and turned off the bedside lamp.

“I, uh,” Spencer said. “I should probably warn you that I tend to move around quite a bit in my sleep.”

“It’s okay,” Sam chuckled. “I’ll push you off the edge if you bother me that much.”

*

Well, now that Spencer was bothering him, he didn’t really want to push him off the edge.

Because the young FBI agent had, indeed, moved in his sleep. He had turned and turned and unintentionally kicked Sam’s legs a few times.

But, right now, his friend seemed to have settled in.

Right against Sam’s body.

Their legs were tangled, and one of Spencer’s arms was thrown over his chest.

He thought about pushing him away at first, and had then realized that it didn’t annoy him as much as he had thought it would.

He kind of… liked it ?

But he’s your friend ! You can’t take advantage of him like this ! He’s asleep, he probably doesn’t even realize what he’s doing anyway.

But technically, Sam was supposed to be asleep too. He could just pretend he had never woken up and go back to sleep like this.

He shifted a little, getting more comfortable against Spencer. And Spencer moved a little too, his head now resting right under Sam’s collarbone, sighting gently.

Sam smiled, and then fell asleep.

*

When Spencer woke up the next morning, practically sleeping on Sam, he moved away quickly.

He hated the unconscious version of himself at the moment, and was grateful he had been the first one to wake up. What if Sam had found him like this ? He probably would have never talked to him again after driving him back to the airport.

After spending a couple minutes calming down, laying completely still as far away as possible from Sam, Spencer got up slowly, so as not to make any noise. He went downstairs, still in his pajamas, and checked his phone, going directly to the kitchen to avoid waking up Bobby.

It was 8 am, and he couldn’t quite remember when his plane was taking off. Well, even though the service wasn’t great there, he could probably still check on the airport’s
website…

Oh. Oh no.

FLIGHT CANCELED.

Spencer sat down on one of the chairs in the kitchen. What was he going to do ? Even though he was convinced Sam would have no problem with him staying with the Winchesters for a while, he didn’t want it to seem like he was taking advantage of them.

“Is there a problem ?” a deep voice behind him asked, startling him.

He turned around, only to find Castiel standing in the kitchen’s doorway.

“Sorry,” the angel said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Is everything alright ?”

“My flight got cancelled,” Spencer simply said.

The angel shrugged.

*

After Castiel offered Spencer to fly him back to Quantico himself, the subject quickly changed to Sam.

“He cares about you.”

Spencer frowned.

“I care about him too,” he replied, a bit confused. “I mean, we’re friends, so-

“He doesn’t care about you like a friend,” Castiel cut him off. "Well, I wouldn’t know, but Dean told me he hadn’t seen Sam looking at someone like that since a long time. Since Jessica, actually.”

Jessica. It was the second time Spencer heard this name, and he wondered who she was. Probably an ex-girlfriend, given the context. He had to find out who she was. He even surprised himself wanting to know what had happened between her and Sam.

Spencer tried to speak, but it only came out in stutters and half-words.

“Be careful with him,” Castiel finally said as steps were coming down the stairs. “Dean can be quite protective.”

“ ‘Morning,” Sam yawned as he entered the kitchen. “How did you sleep ?”

“Very well, thank you,” Spencer answered, at the same time Castiel said :

“I don’t actually sleep.” The angel paused, before nodding. “I see, you weren’t talking to me. I’m going to see if Dean’s awake.”

He left the room, walking past Sam, who smiled and raised his eyebrows.

“He’s getting better at this every day,” he said, sounding a bit surprised. “Picking up social cues, I mean,” he added when Spencer gave him an interrogating look.

The FBI agent smiled.

*

When the time came to go back to Quantico, Castiel grabbed Spencer’s arm after he had said goodbye to everyone (“I’ll write soon”, Sam had promised), and zapped the both of them in front of Spencer’s apartment.

“Take care of you,” Castiel said.

Spencer looked at him, a bit surprised at these words.

“For Sam’s sake,” the angel added,” and Spencer nodded.

He went back to his apartment, which suddenly felt empty. Emptier than before he had left for Sioux Falls, even though nothing had changed since. He didn’t want to unpack his suitcase yet, so he just went to bed, despite how early it still was. He had work tomorrow, the BAU never rested for too long.

Chapter Text

Before going to work the next day, Spencer went by the nearest Barnes & Nobles he could find, and bought a few of the books he had on his TBR list, trying not to think too much about the fact that his gift had probably been bought with stolen money. He hadn’t dared ask Sam about it, because that’s not really the kind of things you ask to someone who’s trying their best.

Once he had said hello and wished a merry Christmas to everyone at work, he started reviewing files and filling out reports, as usual, when Hotch barged in, telling them they had a case, and apologizing for ruining the Christmas spirit (Garcia had insisted that everyone needed to wear a Santa Claus hat and, when Garcia had something in mind, it was hard to refuse).

The case was about women being found dead from drug-induced paralysis. On the plane, after reading the case’s file in details, Spencer had started reading one of the books he had just bought. Eventually, JJ came to sit next to him, reading a bit from behind his shoulder before he turned the page, reading way faster than her.

“Christmas gift ?” she asked, pointing to the book.

“Bought with a gift card, actually,” Spencer corrected, still reading.

“Your mom doesn’t give you gift cards,” the blonde women noted, seating more comfortably in her seat. “Who is it from ?”

“Sam,” Spencer answered before thinking.

Realizing JJ had stopped talking, he looked away from his book and his eyes landed on his friend, who was trying to refrain a smile.

“What ?” he asked, frowning.

“The Sam ?”

As Spencer wasn’t answering, JJ went on :

“The Sam Henry wouldn’t stop talking about each time he spent the day with you this summer ?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Spencer shrugged. “I only know one Sam.”

“And you two spent Christmas together ?” she asked.

Spencer was missing the implications, as he usually did, and simply stuttered :

“W-well, I went to, uh, one of his friend’s house for Christmas, yeah. He offered me to come celebrate Christmas with, uh, with them, since I couldn’t visit my mom because, you know…”

“Yeah, I know,” JJ whispered, before going on, louder : “Where does he live ?”

“Everywhere,” Spencer mindlessly answered.

“What ?”

“Well,” he explained, shifting in his seat and closing his book. “He lives on the road with his brother. He managed to settle in Quantico this summer but he… He had to go back to the family business.”

JJ nodded, squinting.

“I see,” she said, half-smiling. “And so, you and him, you’re…”

“Friends,” Spencer finished. “Why do you ask so many questions about him anyway ?” he then asked, his voice high-pitched.

The blonde woman lifted her hands in the air, looking innocent.

“I’m just curious, that’s all.”

*

“He has the right to have friends outside of work,” Hotch was saying, crossing his arms, “I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

They had just gone back from the case and Spencer had left earlier than the others, talking about an email he had to write or something like that. And now, All his teammates where talking about that mysterious Sam JJ had just mentioned.

“Uh, have you met Spencer ?” Emily replied, raising her eyebrows. “He doesn’t have friends outside of work. I doubt he even talks to his neighbors.”

“He’s a big kid, he can take care of himself,” Morgan piped in, walking towards the door. “See y’all in three days.”

JJ sighed, looking at Rossi.

“What do you think ?” she asked.

“I think Morgan is right,” the profiler (and author) answered. “Even though the idea of Spencer having friends hadn’t crossed my mind before, he’s allowed to have a life.”

And, just like that, the conversation had ended, Hotch had gone back to his office to finish writing the case report, Rossi and Emily had gone back to their respective places, and JJ was going to Garcia’s office.

“Tell me everything you know and I’ll work my magic,” the technical analyst said.

Then, a few minutes later, she winced.

“Okay, that’s very little information you gave me. Don’t you have anything else ?”

JJ shook her head, biting her cheek.

“He got defensive when I started asking questions, and I don’t want someone taking advantage of him. This… Sam probably knows he’s from the FBI. I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I don’t want that either…” Garcia said, tilting her head. “But I can’t do anything with only this. You don’t even have a last name.”

JJ went back home determined that night. As she fell asleep, lying next to Will, she was only thinking about one thing.

She had to find out Sam’s last name.

*

The next time Spencer and Sam met up, it was already late February. Right before he left work that Friday evening, JJ came to sit on his desk.

“Hi JJ,” he said absent-mindedly, tucking his stuff in his messenger bag. “I was just about to head out and go home.”

“Going home early, that’s new,” she teased. “Something planned this week end ?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Spencer replied, and he was very obviously containing a smile. “A friend of mine and I are eating lunch together at my apartment tomorrow.”

“Oh,” JJ said, looking away for a second before crossing her legs. “I guess I’ll have to find another babysitter then…”

Spencer looked up immediately.

“I can still babysit Henry, if you need to,” he quickly replied.

JJ waved a hand in front of her face, temporarily closing her eyes.

“No, no, I don’t want to ruin your lunch, go enjoy spending time with your friend, I’m sure Will’s sister can-”

“It really isn’t a problem,” Spencer insisted, putting his messenger bag around his neck. “Plus, Henry loves Sam, and it’s been months since he hasn’t seen him, so, that’s a win for everyone !”

JJ smiled briefly.

“Oh that, um, that’s your friend Sam you’re eating with tomorrow ? How is he ?”

Spencer took a step back, frowning.

“He’s fine, thank you.” His face then lit up again. “So, when do you want me to pick up Henry ?”

They both started walking out of the building, still talking.

“Would nine be okay ? I’ll just come get him around 1pm, if that works for you.”

Spencer wouldn’t stop smiling. Sam and Henry, on the same day ? This was just perfect.

“See you tomorrow then,” he said as he walked towards the nearest subway station, and JJ went to the parking lot.

*

Lunch at Spencer’s apartment was perfect. And Henry’s presence had made it even better, because the kid wouldn’t stop asking to sit in Sam’s lap and had thanked him three times already for “ordering a gift to Santa Claus for him”.

When someone knocked on the door at 12:56 pm, Spencer hurried to go open, while Sam was looking up at the door from where he was sitting on the couch, Henry climbing all over him and giggling.

“Hi JJ,” Sam heard Spencer say. “Come in, I’ll get Henry.”

He didn’t need to, because Sam had already gotten up and was carrying a laughing Henry upside down towards the door, where he faced a blonde, smiling woman.

“Hi,” he said, smiling awkwardly, putting Henry down correctly. “I’m-”

“Sam,” the woman interrupted him. “Spencer’s friend. I’ve heard about you.”

“I’ve heard a bit about you too,” Sam replied. “You’re Jennifer, Spencer’s friend and colleague, right ?”

JJ nodded still smiling.

“Yes, Jennifer Jareau, but call me JJ.”

Sam raised his eyebrows briefly.

“I will.”

“And you ?”

Sam frowned as JJ took a few step forwards, passing him to enter Spencer’s apartment.

“What ?”

“You haven’t told me your full name,” she said jokingly.

“Oh, right,” Sam scoffed, a bit uncomfortable.

He wasn’t going to actually answer, but the look the woman gave him told him she really wanted to know.

“Samuel Winchester,” he blurted out after swallowing his saliva. “Just, um, just call me Sam though.”

“Do you want a drink ?” Spencer asked JJ.

He had witnessed the whole exchange without moving, nervously twisting his hands in front of his chest.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” JJ answered, not looking at Sam anymore and smiling again. “Thank you for taking care of Henry.”

Spencer barely had the time to say ‘no problem’ before she took off with the kid, closing the door behind them.

Sam frowned, looking at Spencer.

“Is she always like that ?” he asked carefully.

“No,” Spencer simply replied, his eyes still on the door.

But, well, everyone had weird days.

*

Spencer and Sam spent the afternoon at Spencer’s apartment. It was cold outside, and neither of them really wanted to go out. Plus, Spencer had Doctor Who DVD’s, and they put on the latest season Sam hadn’t been able to keep track with while chatting.

“I was thinking about booking a hotel room for tonight,” Sam said at one point, half lied down on the couch.

“Oh, you and Dean are staying until tomorrow ?” Spencer asked, still somehow paying attention to the episode.

“It's just me, actually. And, yeah, I was thinking I could go back tomorrow afternoon.”

Spencer turned to him, frowning.

“You came here by yourself ? Is something wrong between you and Dean ?”

“What ?” Sam straightened up a little, shaking his head. “No, I just wanted to s- to, hum, get away for a while. Hunting can get pretty exhausting.”

“Right… Hunting,” Spencer repeated, narrowing his eyes.

Sam didn’t bother answering. He didn’t want to admit the only reason he was here was because he wanted to see Spencer.

“You know,” Spencer said after a few minutes of them silently watching Doctor Who. “If you’re on your own, there’s no need to book a hotel room. You can just stay here.”

Sam struggled to swallow his saliva for a second, and raised his eyebrows.

“You are… right,” he finally managed to let out. “But I don’t- I don’t want to intrude.”

Spencer frowned.

“I’m- I’m offering, you’re not intruding.”

“Well, I mean, if you insist-”

“You don’t have to, though, if you’d prefer to stay at a hotel-”

“No, I’d like to spend the night here, yeah I’d very much like to-”

“Okay,” Spencer sighed. “Nice. Great.” His pinched his lips, getting up from the couch. “Well, do you, uh, do you like Italian food ? There’s a restaurant downtown, and I kind of owe you one, so…”

Sam looked up at Spencer, smiling.

“Yeah, I love Italian food.”

*

They went to get dinner at that Italian restaurant Spencer had mentioned. He was getting chills, and his stomach was aching a bit, as well as his muscles were tensing. Spencer didn’t quite understand why. They hadn’t argued, and they were having a great time. He wasn’t even feeling uncomfortable because of all the people around them.

“Hey, are you okay ?” Sam asked him, and Spencer realized he hadn’t been listening to what his friend was saying.

He shrugged it off.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

His hands were shaking a little and, right now, the people around him actually made him uncomfortable. It was like, all of a sudden, he was acknowledging how many people were in the room, and how bright the lightning was, and how loudly the child behind him was speaking.

“I just-” he tried to speak, but the words were breathy and wouldn’t come out.

“Spencer ?” Sam asked, worried.

“I- Uh- Bathroom.” Spencer stuttered.

He stormed out of the room, leaving Sam there, confused and alone.

*

Bright light, strong smell, weirdly-textured walls. The room was spinning a little, disappearing each time Spencer blinked, but at least it was quieter than the restaurant.

He sat down on the dirty floor, trying not to think about the germs but, of course, he thought about them, and his breath became more disorganized, heavy and quick and slow again, struggling to catch air, letting it out with little sounds escaping his lips.

Pull yourself together, you haven’t had a panic attack in years.

He put his arms around his head, blocking out any sound or light. He would be alright.

He would, right ?

*

After ten minutes, Sam decided to see if Spencer was alright. When he entered the bathroom and found him there, sitting on the floor, arms over his head, breathing heavily – at least he was breathing – and trying to cut himself from the rest of the world, he kneeled down next to him, speaking gently.

“Hey, Spence, it’s okay, I’m here. Focus on my voice, you’ll be okay, you’re safe.”

He had recognized the panic attack. He use to have those, in his teenage years, and it was one of the main reasons his dad didn’t let him come on hunts before he was fifteen.

“You’re safe. Focus on my voice. Grab my hand if you need to.”

It took five full minutes for Spencer to calm down enough to look at Sam, cheeks red with breathlessness, eyes tired of being shut too tight.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Sam replied, still kneeling next to him. “You don’t need to explain. I’ll take you home, call us a cab, okay ?”

Spencer simply nodded, getting up and going to their waiter to pay while Sam went out, already on the phone. He tipped generously, apologizing for leaving early.

“The cab’s there,” Sam told him as he finished paying, wrapping a hand around Spencer’s shoulders.

Usually, any form of physical contact during or after a panic attack would make things worse for the young profiler. But not today. Not when it was Sam. He calmed down even more, feeling safe and warm and smiling again.

Sam held out the car door for him and, when they walked up the stairs to his apartment, he once again wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

“I’ll go book a hotel room,” he then announced, standing in the doorway. “You probably want to be alone and I understand-”

“Please stay,” Spencer heard himself blurt out, surprised by his own words.

Sam didn’t say anything, simply stepping in and closing the door behind him.

*

At the same time, the same day, Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau were back at the BAU office, even though it was late and they weren’t supposed to work.

“Winchester, you say ?” Garcia asked as she typed the name into her database.

“Yeah, something like that, maybe try out another spelling-”

“No, that’s it, I have him !” Garcia said, smiling. “Sam Winchester, born on the second of May 1983 in Lawrence, Kansas. His mother – Mary Winchester, born Campbell – died when he was six months old – poor thing – in a… house fire ? His father never had a stable address after that, looks like John Winchester raised him and his brother Dean on the road-”

“Garcia,” JJ interrupted her. “Anything interesting ?”

“I’m getting to it,” the technical analyst replied. “The kids went to different schools every month or so when they got to the age of six, and a few charges were pressed against their father for vandalism over the years, as well as grave robbing and – wow – child services were called on him not once, not twice, but three times by three different schools. It lead to nothing as they were always gone when child services arrived.”

“What did they accuse him off ?”

“Neglecting his kids, mostly. One of their teacher’s testimony mentions bruises on his big brother’s shoulder and rib-cage, as well as overhearing both the Winchester brothers talking about how their father would be back in a week.”

“When was this ?” JJ asked, leaning over Garcia.

“Uhhh let me see… 1990, so Sam was seven and Dean was eleven – can you imagine leaving your kids alone for a whole week at that age ? That’s basically abuse !”

“Yeah, I think that’s why they called child services. Anything else ?”

“Dean went off the grid as soon as he was eighteen, while Sam got into pre-law at Stanford after he graduated. He disappeared two years later, after his then girlfriend – Jessica Moore – was found dead in a… house fire ?”

“Just like his mom,” JJ remarked.

“Yeah,” Garcia sighed. “Anyway, I have a death certificate for John Winchester in 2006, and one for Dean Winchester in 2008.”

“Poor Sam,” JJ said, her eyes widening.

“Hum, wait, I have another death certificate,” Garcia suddenly said, straightening in her seat.

“Whose ?”

“That can be right.”

“What ?” JJ frowned. “Why ?”

“Because I have… multiple death certificates for Dean Winchester. There even is one for Sam.”

Chapter Text

“He’s not answering his phone,” JJ said, dialing her friend’s number once more.

“It’s late,” Garcia tried to reassure her. “You’ll call him tomorrow, alright ? Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding.”

But she didn’t sound very convincing, like she didn’t even believe it herself.

“You’re right,” JJ finally said, tucking her pone in her back pocket. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

*

Meanwhile, Sam was helping Spencer get into bed. The FBI agent changed into his pyjamas on his own, while Sam was respectfully looking away, but then the hunter tucked the covers around him, smiling.

“Get some rest, I always find it best to fall asleep after a panic attack.”

“Wait,” Spencer said, sitting up. “You have these too ?”

“Used to,” Sam replied, standing over him. “I haven’t had one in a while though.”

Spencer looked at his hands, which were joined and fidgeting with the air.

“Yeah, me neither until today.”

“Hey,” Sam whispered, sitting down on the bed next to Spencer’s legs. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Spencer shrugged, still not meeting Sam’s gaze.

“It happens,” the hunter went on. “And that’s okay, I won’t judge you. Everyone gets a little overwhelmed sometimes.”

Sam put a hand on Spencer’s leg over the covers, stroking it and squeezing a little.

“I don’t want to seem weak in front of you,” Spencer finally said, starring at Sam’s hand on his leg. “I don’t want you to think less of me.”

“Panic attacks don’t make you weak, Spence.”

Spencer bit his lips.

“And even if they did…” Sam went on, choosing his words carefully. “There’s nothing wrong in being a little weak. You can’t be strong all the time. And it won’t make me think less of you.” He was shaking his head slowly, trying to meet Spencer’s eyes with his own. “I’ll never think less of you, especially not for a panic attack, okay ?”

Spencer nodded, not looking up.

“Hey, look at me.”

But even Sam’s soft voice couldn’t make him look up.

So Sam’s damaged, callused hand did it instead. He gently captured Spencer’s chin between his thumb and index, lifting it slowly, delicately, finally allowing their eyes to meet.

“I’ll never think less of you, alright ?”

Spencer nodded quickly. His heart was beating even faster, and his cheeks were red. Maybe was it the shame Sam was trying to chase that was still lingering, or Sam’s eyes, or Sam’s hand on his skin, but Spencer’s stomach was making jumps and turns and basically just fucking around.

Before he realized what he was doing, Spencer was leaning in, and his lips were on Sam’s.

He was quickly pushed away, Sam’s hands suddenly both on his chest, keeping him to a safe distance.

“Sorry,” Spencer whispered. “I thought-”

But Sam’s thoughts were rushing too. Spencer was not doing well right now. The last thing he wanted was to take advantage of him.

“You've just had a panic attack,” Sam said calmly, despite the blood boiling in his vein. “You’re confused, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Spencer blinked twice, opened his mouth, and said in a trembling voice :

“I’ve thought about doing this since you first came to eat here. I won’t regret it.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze jumping from one of Sam’s eyes to the other.

“Will you ?” he then asked.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Regret it ?”

Spencer nodded. They were still so close he could feel Sam’s breath on his mouth, quietly calling for him with each blow.

“Never,” Sam finally replied. “Come here.”

And so Spencer did. His lips were on Sam’s again, who reacted more enthusiastically this time, cradling Spencer’s face with one of his hands while the other was holding his waist gently. Spencer was basically out of his covers now, rushing his slender, pale fingers through Sam’s long hair, tangling and untangling it over and over again.

At one point, Sam lowered his mouth, kissing Spencer’s jawline before getting to his neck.

“Is that okay ?”

“Yes,” Spencer replied. “Go on, please.”

Sam started kissing the area, before nipping at the soft skin tenderly, biting it lightly and sucking it strongly. Spencer couldn’t help but let out a moan, which encouraged Sam to continue. Spencer’s right hand was on Sam’s nape, involuntarily scratching the skin a little, and the other was holding onto the hunter’s strong shoulder, making them sit even closer, head thrown back to give Sam better access.

Spencer grabbed Sam’s shirt’s collar, falling backwards, taking his friend with him. Well, if he could still call him his friend. Their mouths were linked again. None of them were really used to this, because Sam hadn’t been with anyone since Jessica (well, there had been Ruby, but he had always been high with her, so it didn't really count), and Spencer’s last hook up went back to his college years (except for that one time with Lila Archer), which made it messy and clumsy, but they didn’t care. It was even better that way, because it was them. Spencer was socially awkward, and it showed. He didn’t know where to put his hands at first, didn’t know what exactly to do with his mouth, following the flow, and Sam loved it, because it was cute, and so Spencer. Sam was shy and respectful, always asking for permission to do anything, waiting for Spencer to respond before going on with whatever he was doing, and Spencer loved it, because he felt safe and it was so Sam.

It reminded the both of them how young they were, how much time they had in front of them, all the things they still had to live and experience.

Together, they hoped.

Oddly enough, it didn’t go much farther, as it could have been expected. They were perfectly content with all the kissing and the hair-touching and the hand-grabbing.

Sam didn’t sleep on the couch, but in Spencer’s bed instead, as they were lying down against each other. The atmosphere was the same as it was at Bobby’s house, when they had shared a bed, even though it was so much different.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, as Spencer’s phone was receiving dozens of calls and texts from JJ, in do-not-disturb mode.

*

The morning after, when Sam woke up, Spencer wasn’t there anymore. The hunter yawned before getting out of bed. He had slept in only boxers and his shirt from yesterday, and he put on his jeans before coming in the living room. Yawning again, he started to follow Spencer’s voice, which came from the kitchen.

“Death certificate ?” the FBI agent was asking, frowning. “That’s not possible, he’s perfectly ali- what ?”

Sam stayed out of the kitchen, still listening. Spencer paused for a while, before his voice got higher.

“His brother ? No ! I met Dean, he’s very much alive as well !”

Sam’s blood froze. Something was wrong. There was someone on the phone with Spencer, telling him about his and his brother’s death certificates.

“Multiple ones ?” Spencer asked. “This doesn’t make sense, Jennifer. Why did you even look him up in the first place ?”

Sam thought it was the right time to step in, clearing his throat and smiling awkwardly at his friend (if he could still call him that).

Spencer turned around, all confusion leaving his face as he caught the sight of Sam, hair messy and eyes sleepy, standing in the kitchen’s doorway.

“I gotta go,” he said, smiling at the hunter who was getting closer. “See you tomorrow at work.”

“But-”

He hung up, setting his phone down on the counter, fully turning to Sam now.

“Hi,” he said softly. “Did you sleep well ?”

“Better than in a long time,” Sam admitted, taking another step towards Spencer and gently putting his hands on his waist, leaning in.

Spencer met him halfway, in a slow, short kiss.

“So we’re really doing this, uh ?” the doctor asked, eyelashes fluttering.

“Doing what ?” Sam chuckled.

Spencer gestured between the two of them, taking a step back, one of Sam’s hand still on his hipbone.

“This,” he repeated. “Us.”

Sam shrugged, taking his hand off.

“Only if you want it.”

Spencer came close again to kiss him. It was a bit longer this time, but still soft and patient.

“I do. I do want this,” he assured, looking away. “But our lives… Neither of our lifestyles leaves enough space for… This.”

Sam’s eyebrows went down a little, because he knew Spencer was right. The FBI agent was often out of town, on dangerous cases, chasing serial killers and putting rapists behind the bars. He himself had the worst job anyone could ever ask for. Always on the road, never really knowing if he’ll came back of the next hunt alive, fighting against the devil himself.

“We could make it work though,” Spencer added after a few seconds. “We managed to make it work until now.”

Sam smiled.

“We did,” he replied, leaning in for one more kiss.

Spencer smiled in return.

*

They had breakfast together (Spencer had been making pancakes before being interrupted by JJ’s call), and they then settled on the couch, watching whatever was on the TV, enjoying each other’s company.

“I still owe you dinner,” Spencer said suddenly, his head resting in Sam’s lap.

“We had dinner yesterday,” the hunter replied, frowning.

“Well, we didn’t even get to desert. But I know you’re leaving this afternoon, so, would you like going out for lunch ?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Sam replied, ruffling Spencer’s hair.

*

When Spencer came to work the next day, he didn’t quite expect half of his colleagues to harass him right away.

“Would you all stop bothering me about Sam ?” he repeated for what seemed the millionth time. “I’m telling you, there has to be a mistake somewhere.”

“Are you saying I made a mistake somewhere ?” Garcia asked, a hand on her chest, raising her eyebrow behind her yellow glasses.

“What I am trying to say,” Spencer started, teeth clenched, “is that you should never had looked him up in the first place !”

JJ sat on his desk.

“Well, given what we found, I’m glad we did,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Sam’s life is none of your business !”

Morgan was about to say something, but he froze, mouth open, staring at Spencer’s neck.

“Wait,” the man scoffed. “Is that a bruise ?”

Spencer covered his neck with both hands, his face getting red with embarrassment.

“Did he hurt you ?” Garcia asked in a low voice, suddenly not mad and all concerned.

“What ? No he did not- This is none of your concern !”

“You have bruises on your neck, Spencer,” Morgan went on as Spencer got up from his desk chair. “Of course this is our concern. If this bastard hurt you we-”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Spencer whispered furiously, putting his messenger bag around his head.

Garcia raised an eyebrow.

“Where are the bruises from then- Oh.”

Spencer had gotten ever redder as his three teammates looked at each other in surprise.

“Did you sleep with him ?” Morgan couldn’t help but ask.

Spencer frowned and took a step back.

“No.”

It was the truth, but none of them seemed to believe his words. The young FBI agent started to get defensive.

“I didn’t sleep with h- you know what ?” he cut himself off, taking his hand off of his neck and straightening his posture. “This really isn’t your business. Stay out of my personal life.”

JJ started to say something but, as he was exiting the room, Spencer added :

“All of you !”

Hotch came out of his office, quickly followed by Prentiss and Rossi, alerted by the raising voices.

“What’s the matter ?” the unit chief asked, face straight, going down the stairs to join them.

“Spencer’s got a boyfriend,” Morgan replied.

Prentiss opened her mouth in surprise

“He WHAT ?”

“And said boyfriend has a death certificate.”

Hotch frowned. What the hell had his youngest team member got himself into ?

*

After ten minutes of looking in every room of the building, Hotch finally found Spencer, who was hiding away in an empty office.

“Reid,” he started, and Spencer turned to him. “Is everything alright ?”

He was still visibly angry, so Hotch kept his distance as he knew Spencer enjoyed people respecting his personal space, even more when he was upset.

“They had no right to look up my friend like that,” he replied.

Hotch sighed.

“You’re right. But they did it because they care about you.”

Spencer bit his cheek and Hotch went on.

“I’m not saying they were right to do what they did, but I must admit your… friend,” he had notably paused, “seems to be in some awkward situation.”

Spencer set his messenger bag down on the table next to him.

“He may have got an unusual lifestyle, but that doesn’t make him a bad person.”

“Does this ‘unusual lifestyle’ always include faking your death ?”

Spencer stayed silent for a while.

“I didn’t know about that,” he finally muttered. “But I’m not entirely surprised,” he then added, shrugging.

Hotch squinted his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“You expected your friend to have a death certificate ?”

“Well, 'expected' definitely isn’t the word, but it kind of makes sense ?” Spencer winced.

Hotch nodded slowly.

“Don’t get yourself into anything you might regret.”

“He truly is a good person, trust me.”

The unit chief left the room, standing in the doorway for a few seconds.

“It’s not you I don’t trust.”

Chapter Text

“So, when were you going to tell me you died ?”

Sam choked on his beer, setting it down on the ground while coughing.

“Excuse-me ?” he asked once he was breathing again, turning to Spencer.

They were both sitting on Spencer’s couch, eating Chinese take-outs while watching whatever was on the TV. It had been a month since they had started dating, and it was the first time Sam ever came in Quantico with the intent to spend the night at Spencer’s apartment.

“Well,” the FBI agent went on playfully. “I heard you died, once. You never told me about it.”

Sam frowned. Yeah, obviously, that wasn’t really the kind of thing you talked about to make conversation.

“How do you know about this ?”

“Ah HA !” Spencer replied, taking a bite of his food. “Answer my question first.”

Sam stayed silent for a second, considering. He knew he would have had to tell him eventually, but he hadn't expected Spencer to bring it up like this.

“Remember when I told you I was a ‘special kid’ because a demon bled into my mouth as a kid ?”

Spencer nodded. He was still eating, but Sam had set his plate down.

“Well, there were… Others, like me,” the hunter went on, shifting a little on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable.

As he was telling everything that had happened that night, finishing by how Jake had stabbed him and he had died in Dean’s arms, Spencer had stopped eating as well.

“Wait, you… You died ? F-for real, I mean ?”

“Yeah,” Sam frowned. “You just told me you knew about this.”

“I knew about a death certificate,” Spencer replied, tilting his head. “I thought it was a fake one.”

“Oh, it probably was,” Sam said, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “Dean faked both our deaths so that the authorities would stop looking for us after a hunt went wrong.”

Spencer had his mouth slightly open, eyebrows frowned in confusion.

“Wait, how are you alive then ? Faking a death is quite easy, but returning from an actual one ?”

“It’s your turn to answer my question,” Sam said promptly, straightening in his seat. “How did you know about the death certificate ?”

“My colleagues looked you up.”

“They what ?”

So that what was the phone call in the kitchen was about, last time he was here. Sam was honestly surprised that he didn’t bring it up sooner.

Spencer got up, putting both their half-eaten plates in the kitchen, as it was clear they were done eating for the moment.

“JJ was asking questions about you, and I never really answered them, so she took the matter into her own hands and, well- we’re the FBI, this information wasn’t really hard to access for her.”

Sam followed him to the kitchen.

“Did you know she would do that ?”

“What ?” Spencer turned around. “No, of course I didn’t.”

“Okay,” Sam said softly. “I believe you.”

They went back to sit on the couch, one of Sam’s leg thrown out on Spencer’s laps.

“I still wonder how you came back from the dead,” Spencer smiled.

“Oh, Dean sold his soul for me to come back.”

“What ?”

“Yeah, stupid, I know. We spent the whole year trying to get his soul back – and we failed. He died on May the 2nd, in 2008.”

“That’s terrible, I’m sor-” Spencer started before interrupting himself. “Wait, how is he still alive then ?”

“Oh, Castiel brought him back from hell.”

None of them said anything for a moment, before Spencer said gently :

“Two thousand and eight… That’s when the whole demon blood thing started, right ?”

Sam nodded.

“I was looking for a way to bring him back. He was gone four mouth, and I was getting desperate, and I met Ruby and…”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

“I feel like I need to,” Sam went on anyway. “I just wanted to see him again, and his death brought me so low… I couldn’t live without him.”

“I get it. The need to explain.”

“I know you do.”

Sam brought his left hand to Spencer’s, intertwining their fingers.

“I got kidnapped,” Spencer started. “On a case, JJ and I split up, and the unsub took me. His name…” he paused, taking a deep breath, glancing at Sam, who was giving him an encouraging look. “His name was Tobias Hankle. He had a dissociative identity disorder : his father’s personality would beat me up, and when Tobias resurfaced again, he would... He would…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sam said, getting closer, putting his free hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“No, I- I want to. I want you to know.”

“Then I’ll listen.”

Spencer swallowed his saliva before going on.

“Tobias wanted to make it easier to me. He gave me Dilaudid whenever he would be the one controlling the body, to ease the pain.”

Sam bit his cheek.

“When my team came to rescue me… I put him down. I shot him. And then I…”

A tear rolled down Spencer’s cheek, and Sam stroked his shoulder.

“I took the Dilaudid. To use it at home.”

“And your team didn’t notice ?”

“Oh, I’m sure they did. They all knew. One of the team members basically told me to get it together if I still wanted to work in the FBI. I stopped using shortly after.”

Sam nodded.

“I’m glad you did.”

He closed the space between them, pulling Spencer in a chaste kiss.

“Hey, don’t leave so fast,” Spencer chuckled, deepening the kiss as soon as Sam pulled back.

He gently pushed against the hunter, making them both lie on the couch, their feet hanging over the edge. Sam’s hand was on his waist, holding him close, while Spencer was uplifting himself with his elbows on each side of Sam, his hands in the hunter’s hair.

“Wouldn’t your bed be more comfortable ?” Sam asked after a minute or two, with shiny eyes and damp lips.

They kept kissing on the way. Sam was the one slightly pushing Spencer this time, taking off the FBI agent’s sweater vest and tossing it in the hallway before closing the bedroom’s door behind them, ending up standing next to the bed.

Spencer tugged at the bottom of Sam’s shirt, silently asking for permission, which was granted when Sam raised his arms, allowing his boyfriend to take his shirt off. Spencer’s hands were now all over Sam’s muscular chest, tracing his abs and brushing over his nipples, going up to his shoulders and down to the hairs on his lower abdomen.

Sam’s hands were struggling to undo Spencer’s belt, but he managed to after a few tries, briefly looking at Spencer and waiting for him to nod before unbuttoning his pants, which fell on the ground, no longer held on Spencer’s thin hips.

The latter finished taking it off with his feet, kicking it away, as Sam dropped on his knees, pushing Spencer a little, who sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Can I blow you ?” Sam asked before going any further, looking up.

Spencer swallowed hard. This was quite a sight. Sam, shirtless, kneeling between his legs, his face at crotch level, pushing his hair away from his face and looking at him through his eyelashes.

“I don’t know,” Spencer answered, smirking. “Can you ?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Please do,” Spencer added when he understood that Sam wouldn’t do it unless explicitly told.

“You won’t need to tell me twice.”

Sam’s hands, large and rough, pulled down Spencer’s underwear slowly, releasing his half-hard dick. He gently took a hold of it and started to lick the tip, before putting the head in his mouth, toying around it with his tongue, smiling when he felt Spencer – who was now fully hard – shiver. He started doing back and forth motions, going a bit lower on Spencer’s cock each time until it reached his throat. He took it all out, looking at Spencer, slowly jerking him off with his hand. Between shudders and breathy moans, Spencer put both his hands in Sam’s hair, whispering :

“Could you do that again ?”

“With my mouth ?” Sam asked, brushing his thumb over the head, making Spencer suck in a breath and nod quickly.

He went down again, taking all of it at once, swallowing a few times to massage the tip with the back of his throat.

“Oh god-” Spencer let out, pulling on Sam’s hair to make him straighten up again. Sam followed the movement, getting up, and Spencer pulled him in a kiss, tugging at the hunter’s hair and bringing him with him on the bed. He fumbled with Sam’s pants, unbuttoning it and pulling the zipper down, both bringing the pants down to his ankles before Sam took them off completely.

Spencer reached for Sam’s crotch, cupping his dick through his underwear, which quickly got thrown away by Sam, who pushed bare against Spencer’s hand. The FBI agent started jerking him off, slowly at first, speeding up when his pale, slender fingers were met with pre-come.

Sam kissed him hard, laying on top of him, unbuttoning Spencer’s shirt without quite taking it off, sliding his hand between them to brush against Spencer’s which was masturbating him, to reciprocate. Spencer moaned into his mouth, which made him even harder – if that was still possible, at this point.

“I’ll come if you keep going,” Sam muttered between two kisses.

“That’s kind of the point,” Spencer replied, before moaning again. “But if that can – ah – reassure you, same for me.”

Sam chuckled, fastening his pace. Spencer was breathing way heavier now, and his own strokes on Sam’s dick were getting messy. Sam wrapped his hand around the both of them, and Spencer’s hand flew around Sam’s neck, ruffling his hair as he threw his head back, moaning one last time as he reached his breaking point.

Sam followed shortly after, still stroking them both for a few seconds; letting them get down slowly from the intense pleasure. Sam had, once again, marked Spencer’s neck and collarbone.

The hunter kissed him one last time before rolling over, laughing lightly.

“What’s so funny ?” Spencer asked, still catching his breath.

“My hand is sticky,” Sam giggled, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh as well before getting up.

“I’m taking a shower… Do you want to come with me ?”

Without answering, Sam followed him in the bathroom. They got under the shower together, each washing the cum and sweat off of their bodies, in silence, until Sam turned to Spencer.

“Here, let me rinse your hair.”

Spencer obeyed quietly, turning around and throwing his head back so that Sam could massage his scalp. He closed his eyes, letting the hot water wash off the tensions on his face and relax his muscles.

After that, they got out, and Spencer handed a towel to Sam. Once they had put on clean clothes (well, Sam was only wearing boxers and an open flannel shirt, and Spencer had put on his blue pajamas), they both sat back on the bed, preparing to go to sleep.

“Hey,” Spencer said softly, drawing Sam’s attention on him. “Would you mind me braiding you hair ?”

“Depends,” Sam answered, smiling, leaning towards him. “Can I read my book out loud while you do it ?”

Spencer leaned in as well for a brief kiss.

“Of course.”

*

They spent around fifteen minutes like this, Spencer sitting legs crossed behind Sam, braiding his hair meticulously, listening to Sam’s voice, calm but expressive, low but comforting. Spencer only braided the sides of Sam’s hair, sticking them tightly to his head, a little bit like the elves in Lord of the Rings.

They fell asleep moments after turning the light off, Sam wrapping one of his arms around Spencer while the FBI agent’s head was resting on his chest. The hunter was the last one to drift into unconsciousness, carefully matching his breath with his boyfriend’s, slow and steady. He reached for one of his braids, so nicely done and soft under his touch.

Things were good.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, Spencer had to go to work the next day.

“I’ll just go spend the day at the library or something,” Sam told him as the FBI agent was about to leave.

“You can stay here if you want to,” Spencer offered, grabbing his messenger bag. “Keys are on the counter, just don’t forget to lock the door if you go out. Have a nice day.”

He planted a kiss on the hunter’s lips before running out, already being a bit late, not letting Sam protest. The Winchester still intended on spending time at the library : he didn’t feel quite comfortable staying in Spencer’s apartment when the latest wasn’t there.

*

“You’re late,” Hotch said as he entered the building.

“Yeah,” Spencer sighed, sitting at his desk. “Sorry, I’m here now.”

As Hotch didn’t go back to his office, Spencer looked up at him, frowning.

“Is there something wrong ?”

Hotch bit his lip.

“Follow me.”

Intrigued, and worried, Spencer followed the unit chief to his office, where Hotch closed the door behind them.

“Sam Winchester is in town,” Hotch announced solemnly, as if it was something terrible.

“I… know ?” Spencer replied, confused. “Why is that a prob- wait,” he interrupted himself, tilting his head. “How do you know ?”

Hotch looked at the floor for a second.

“He was seen on some security cameras on the streets around your neighborhood.”

Spencer took a step back, frowning.

“Y-you bothered looking at the security cameras of my neighborhood ?” the young man asked, stuttering.

“I didn’t,” Hotch replied. “After last time…” he hesitated, looking Spencer in the eyes. “I asked Garcia to do some more research. To dig a little further into the Winchester brothers. We found out a lot of disturbing things.”

Spencer swallowed hard, a chill going down his spine. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“Every time they are caught on camera somewhere – in a store, on the streets, around a police station – strange things are reported. Grave robbing, assault, and… strange deaths.”

Spencer took a deep breath.

“What are you implying ?” he asked, looking his superior in the eyes.

“We have very good reasons to think Sam and Dean Winchester are highly dangerous individuals. And for your personal safety I’ve started a case about them, and I’m asking for your help.”

“My help ?” Spencer whispered. “Hotch, you don’t know them like I do. All the things you accuse them of doing- you don’t know them. You don’t have the whole story.”

“Then tell me everything,” Hotch shrugged. “Explain it to me, Reid, because I can’t close my eyes on something this important.”

“Why won’t you just trust me ?”

Spencer’s voice had gotten deeper, shaky, broken.

“Why do you insist on destroying the best aspect of my life ?” he went on, visibly upset. “Why can’t you leave Sam alone ?”

“You’re saying I don’t have the whole story,” Hotch cut him off. “Tell me everything I need to know, it isn’t too late.”

“Too late for what ?” Spencer asked, frowning.

Hotch stared at him, biting his lip.

“Just tell me what I need to know.”

“I can’t,” Spencer almost choked on the words. “I can’t tell you, you just have to trust m-”

“I can’t trust you anymore, Spencer,” Hotch sighed. “You’ve been manipulated, the Winchesters have proved to be psychopaths-”

Spencer couldn’t take it anymore. His breath was getting heavy, and he stormed out of Hotch office, returning to his desk. He didn’t even sat down, slowly realizing he was alone in the room that was usually occupied by JJ, Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi.

“Where is everyone ?” he asked under his breath, turning around, looking for his colleagues.

His eyes landed on Hotch, who had followed him.

“Where are they ?” Spencer asked, louder this time, anger and panic taking over him.

Hotch stayed silent.

“You sent them to my place, didn’t you ?” Spencer spat through his teeth, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“I’m trying to protect you, Spencer,” Hotch declared, deadpan.

“Well fuck off,” the young FBI agent replied, bringing his phone to his ear.

*

Sam was chilling on Spencer’s couch, his laptop resting next to him as he lazily read articles about whatever was available – spirits, vampires, tricksters – when his phone rang, displaying Spencer’s number.

He picked up the call, smiling :

“Hi Spence, how is-”

He was quickly cut off by Spencer’s high-pitched, breathy, urgent voice :

“Get out of here, they’re coming for you.”

Sam frowned, closing his computer and getting up from the couch.

“What ?”

“I don’t have time to explain ! You need to go !”

“Slow down, who’s coming for me ?” Sam asked, starting to pick up his things and cramming them in his backpack.

He heard sirens down in the street and picked up his pace, putting his shoes on and lacing them messily, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

“My team !” Spencer replied, and it almost sounded like he was crying. “They’ve been tracking you without me knowing, they are on their way to my apartment, just go !”

“They’re already here,” Sam let out in a breath.

“Please be care-”

Spencer’s voice cut off as Sam got up, still holding the phone to his ear.

“This is chief unit Aaron Hotchner,” a voice deeper than Spencer’s said. “I’m asking you not to resist and to cooperate-”

“With all dear respect, Aaron,” Sam interrupted him, throwing his backpack on his shoulder and getting out in the building’s hallway, “I have to go.”

“I know you don’t want to do this, Sam. You’re very smart, probably smarter than us,” Hotch’s voice went on, calm and controlled. “Just listen to me-”

Sam hung up, calling another number as he went down the stairs of the building.

*

“He hung up on me,” Hotch said, deadpan, handing the phone to Spencer.

The young man grabbed it quickly, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Fuck you, Hotch.”

The chief unit frowned. Had the Winchester brothers manipulated him at that point ?

Spencer looked down, exhaling slowly, breath and hand trembling. He looked up at his superior, putting his phone in his pocket, and blinked, letting the tears of rage roll on his cheeks.

“Don’t come looking for me,” he simply said, before turning around.

Hotch watched him exit the building, sighing and bringing a hand to his forehead.

What had he done ?

*

Sam was reaching the first floor of the building when he heard a door violently open and a male voice shout “FBI”.

“Shit,” he muttered, praying – quite literally – for Castiel to answer his fucking phone.

But of course the angel didn’t pick up, and of course Sam ended up leaving a stupid voicemail while going up the stairs again.

“I need you to pick me up, Quantico Virginia, at uhhhh,” he closed his eyes for a while, trying to remember his boyfriend’s address. “Capital Plaza Apartments. I don’t have a lot of time, please hurry up.”

He entered Spencer’s flat again, opting for the window : there was an emergency stair case he could use to escape. The hunter put his phone in his pocket and jumped out the window, landing on the metallic platform, making a whole shit-ton of noise.

“He’s on the emergency stairs !” a feminine voice he recognized as JJ’s said.

Spencer’s door was kicked down as Sam reached the ground, jumping over the few last steps. He ran as fast as he could, hearing the FBI team screaming after him. He couldn’t get caught by the fucking FBI. Not now, not when the whole world needed him to stop Lucifer and Michael.

“FBI ! Put your hands in the air !”

Sam considered for a moment, then stopped running right before a corner. He still had a chance to escape, but he would be of no use if his body was to get riddled with bullets.

He turned around, sighing heavily, lifting his hands up his head, meeting the eyes of a man in his forties, pointing a gun at him.

“You’ve got nowhere to go, Sam. Get on the ground.”

And the hunter was just about to do that when he heard a flapping sound behind him. He turned his head, and an arm covered by a trench-coat’s sleeve pulled him behind the corner before they both disappeared.

When SSA Rossi ran to the corner, he swore under his breath, for there was no sign Sam Winchester had ever been standing there.

*

After declining Hotch’s call for the fifth time, Spencer stopped walking. He wasn’t even that far from the FBI building, but he was feeling sick. His stomach was hurting and his head was throbbing and the floor had started to spin under him.

Oh god, he thought. Not again. Not now.

With shaky hands, he managed to call Sam, once again. He didn’t really expect him to answer, but the hunter did anyway, explaining to him how he was with Castiel and that he was safe now.

“Do you think Castiel could come and get me as well ?” Spencer asked, keeping his breath as steady as he could.

“Yeah, no problem, just give me your location.”

Spencer looked up at the street name a few meters away and read it aloud. The sound of Sam hanging up was quickly followed by Castiel, who just appeared next to him.

“Are you alright ?” the angel asked, voice deep with concern.

“Just… Just take me to Sam, please.”

The next second, Spencer was falling into Sam’s arms, in the middle of a motel room, his breath getting unsteady as Sam made him sit on the bed.

“I’m here, it’s alright,” the Winchester whispered into his boyfriend’s hair, pressing his mouth to the messy head.

“I don’t know what happened,” Spencer choked. “I got scared for you, I think.”

Sam smiled.

“It’s nice to have someone worry about me,” the hunter joked. “But I don’t want you having panic attacks over my safety, okay ?”

Spencer looked up at him and Sam pressed a kiss on his forehead, wrapping both his arms around him and holding him close.

The motel room’s door opened, but none of them moved until Dean started talking :

“Wow, Spencer wasn’t there when I left, was he ?”

They chuckled, and Castiel explained :

“I went to get him after you left. He was having a panic attack in the street because he was worried about Sam.”

“I also think I might’ve quit my job.”

Sam frowned at that, turning to look at Spencer. Dean put the fast food he had just bought on the table and sat on a chair, next to Castiel who was resting against the table and across from Sam and Spencer, who were still sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Might’ve ?” both the Winchesters asked at the same time.

“Depends,” Spencer sighed. “Does telling your boss ‘fuck you’ and not to come looking for you qualifies as quitting ?”

Dean reached in the hot paper bags, grabbing a cheeseburger.

“Although I don’t know that much about human etiquette,” Castiel started, raising his eyebrows, “I think it does qualify as quitting.”

“And if it doesn’t,” Dean added after taking a bite of his food, “You’re probably getting fired anyway.”

Sam gave Dean a scolding look and stroked Spencer’s shoulder, for the young man had put his face in his hands.

“Oh God, what am I gonna do ?”

“I don’t know what you think about it, Sammy,” Dean said, handing his brother the bag of foods. “But the Impala is big enough for one more hunter.”

Sam looked at Spencer for a while. No one talked, and the silence was getting heavy when Sam got two cups filled with fries out of the bag, and finally said :

“You’re more than welcome to stay with us until you figure everything out. Well, if you’d like, of course.”

Spencer smiled, taking the fries his boyfriend was offering and putting one in his mouth.

“Yeah,” he nodded, eating another fry. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

Spencer was looking at his old phone. He had turned it off as soon as Castiel had brought him to Dean and Sam, because he knew his colleagues would try and locate it. He had started to miss them on the fourth day. He was sitting alone on a bed in another one motel room. Sam and Dean were out on a hunt, refusing to let Spencer help them, and the angel hadn’t been seen since the night before, doing whatever he had to do – angel things, as Dean liked to call it.

It was very early April. Sun was shining again, even though the wind was still chilly most of the time. He had been landed a few flannel button-up shirts by the Winchester brothers – which all looked too big on him – and he had bought some clothes on his own (socks, underwear, trousers…).

Hi hair was really getting long, but he couldn’t risk going to a hair-dresser right now, not when he knew that he was researched by the FBI itself. Well, he wasn’t officially wanted by the police, but his team was probably still trying to find him.

Spencer sighed, putting his phone back in his messenger bag. He was getting bored. He had already read the books Sam had bought him at the local book-shop, and there wasn’t any more research to do since the brothers were fighting against the werewolf they had been after since they had taken the road following what had happened in Quantico.

His stomach growled.

He put his hand in his pocket, getting a few coins out of it. There was probably enough money for him to buy something in the vending machine down the street. Yes, he would have liked something more consistent than a snickers bar, he thought after finishing it, but there was no way he would start doing credit card scam. He couldn’t use his own, since he would show up on Garcia’s computer, he was sure of it, and there wasn’t any cash left in the hotel room.

That’s when his disposable phone, the one Dean lent him, rang, Sam’s number displayed on the screen.

“Hi,” his boyfriend’s voice said, tender but exhausted. “Everything alright ?”

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, tossing the wrapper of the snicker bar in the bin. “How did it go ?”

“Nice and clean,” Dean’s voice chimed in, a bit distant. “Don’t say anything dirty, you’re on speaker.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. As if he ever did. Dean usually was the one making dirty jokes.

“Well, that’s great. When do you think you’ll be back ?”

“Fifteen minutes top,” Dean answered.

“We’re stopping by a Japanese take out, do you want anything ?” Sam asked, way more audible than his brother.

Spencer held on a sigh of relief as he stomach made another noise. He asked for a few things before they hung up. They ate their meals while Sam and Dean were telling him all about the hunt, and how the werewolf had almost killed Sam, but hopefully Dean was there in time to save him.

“Always takin’ care of my lil’ brother !” he laughed, hitting Sam in the arm, who winced.

“You also almost died,” Sam remarked, taking a mouthful of food.

Dean ignored him as Spencer smirked. These two, really. Five year old kids fighting against the Devil.

*

The next case they found was a classic spirit hunt. Spencer helped the two hunters with the research and, when time came to go to the cemetery, he asked if he could tag along. Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, why not,” he replied, checking that his lighter was still working.

“You’ll help us dig,” Dean added, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

And so Spencer did. He dug and dug and dug under the Winchesters’ amused gaze.

“Your very first grave-robbing,” Sam said jokingly, like a parent would speak about their child’s accomplishments.

“I’m not too proud about that,” Spencer muttered in return, stopping digging for a few seconds, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Seriously, it’s been thirty minutes, how long is this going to take ?”

“Come on Spencie,” Dean went on with the motherly tone. “You’re almost there !”

Spencer sighed and started digging again. Five years old kids.

*

When, the day after, they heard about one more mysterious death, they all looked at each other silently, knowing exactly what that meant.

The hunt wasn’t done.

So they kept digging. Not in dirt but through Sam’s computer and old newspapers, posing as FBI agents to talk to friends and family, teachers and neighbors, bosses and locals.

It turned out that the spirits’ granddaughter had kept his wedding suit, and Sam and Dean decided that they would sneak in the girl’s home while she was out with friends to steal and burn it.

“I want to come with you,” Spencer announced right before the brothers entered the Impala.

“Out of the question,” Sam declared, firm and implacable. “Too dangerous. We’ll be back soon.”

“I’m an adult !” Spencer whined, before realizing the irony. “I mean,” he went on, calmly, “I’m an FBI agent. I actually know how to shoot, and I know as much as you about this spirit.”

“He has a point,” Dean admitted, leaning against the hood of the Impala. “Plus, God knows how long he’s gonna stay with us, he might as well start tagging along on little hunts like this one.”

Sam bit his lips and crossed his arms. He didn’t like this.

“Two against one,” Spencer smiled, opening the passenger door enthusiastically.

Sam quickly put himself between Spencer and the car, smoothly sliding on the passenger seat as Spencer looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“You sit in the back,” was all his boyfriend told him, smirking.

Spencer groaned. Once again : five year old kid.

*

They went on several easy hunts like these for a few weeks. Spencer would help the Winchester brothers with research, spending countless hours in the library, his knee touching Sam’s, sharing the computer and pointing out what the other had missed. The three of them would go chase whatever it was they were fighting against this time. Spencer quickly learned how to swing an iron rod and dodge vampire’s teeth. There seemed to be a lot of vampires in the area and, while destroying yet other nest, Spencer’s machete cut straight into the last bloodsucker’s neck, the dirty, nasty head rolling at his feet, blood splashing his face and clothes.

Dean passed him, grinning, patting him in the back as the ex-FBI agent wiped the blood off his lips and stood there, voiceless, staring at the headless body lying chest-down in front of him.

It was only when Sam put a hand on his shoulder and forced him out of the nest that he spoke :

“I killed it,” he said, torn between pride and guilt.

Sam looked at him and smiled, a bit sadly, at the young man’s bloody face, ruffling through his blood-stained hair and leaning in for a kiss.

“Yeah,” he whispered, staying close to him even after breaking the embrace. “You’ve officially become a hunter.”

*

Next hunt they went on, they all nearly died. Several spirits cornered each one of them in a different room of the house, but at the last second Dean managed to save the day.

The first thing Sam did was to run to Spencer, hugging him as tightly as possible and not letting go for a good minute. When he finally did, Spencer realized his own plaid shirt was wet. He touched it, intrigued, not even bothering to look down, but when his eyes landed on his fingers, red and sticky with blood, he turned to Sam, who was collapsing on his older brother, both his hands on his stomach.

Sam was hurt.

Badly hurt.

*

Everything went dark for the hunter. He couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening around him, only feeling the road bumps and smelling the soothing old leather of the Impala’s seats. He was lying down, his head resting on something soft yet firm and, when he opened his eyes briefly, he was met with Spencer’s face, stained with blood and sweat and worry, looking down at him at stroking his hair.

“We’re nearly there,” he muttered, smiling. “You’ll be fine, stay with us.”

And the dark came again.

*

Sam knew he wasn’t going to die. He had seen worse days, this was just a little wound, nothing more, and he would be fine. He woke up a little when Dean and Spencer carried him to the motel room they were staying at, laying him down on the bed. He felt the alcohol burning his flesh when Dean used vodka to clean the wound, crushing Spencer’s hand to ease the pain as his brother stitched his damaged skin.

“You haven’t lost that much blood,” Spencer told him, putting a hand around the hunter’s broad shoulders. “You won’t even need to go to the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Dean added, doing the last stitch. “You’ll have a little scar, but you’ll be able to hunt again in a week, isn’t that great ?”

Sam groaned in response.

“So,” Dean clapped his hands once he was done, proud of his work. “How you feelin’ Sammy ?”

“Fabulous,” Sam ironized, trying to get up and biting his cheek not to scream in pain.

Dean grabbed the vodka and handed it to him, shrugging.

“We’re out of painkillers,” he explained as Sam took a few long sips.

“How are you drinking that like it’s water ?” Spencer asked, frowning.

“Because we don’t have Caprisun’s in our fridge, Spence,” the hunter replied, taking one last sip.

*

After Sam was forced back into bed by his boyfriend and brother, Dean announced he needed some fresh air and wouldn’t be back until morning. Even though both Sam and Spencer knew it probably meant he was going to drink all night, they just wished him a good evening, and watched him close the door of the motel room behind him.

Spencer grabbed a book and sat next to Sam on the bed, quietly reading as Sam played with his disheveled hair, half-asleep.

“I hope it doesn’t hurt too bad,” Spencer said when Sam tried to shift his position and winced.

“The vodka kind of helps,” the hunter admitted, grinning.

“Let me see,” Spencer asked softly, tugging at the bottom of Sam’s shirt.

Sam straightened in the bed, lifting his shirt a little, showing his abdomen and, eventually, the wound. It was surprisingly clean, considering Dean had never followed any kind of medical formation, and Spencer brushed very gently over the stitches, barely touching them as Sam held his breath.

“Dean is really good at this,” he chuckled, looking up at Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam snorted in return. “We’re used to this kind of thing, believe me.”

Spencer laughed lightly and pressed his lips against Sam’s, who put one of his hands on Spencer’s nape, cupping his face with the other. The former FBI agent was holding Sam’s waist, climbing on top of him, very careful of his wound, sliding his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans.

Sam deepened the kiss, more urgent, ruffling his hair and pressing his hips against Spencer’s, moving slowly but firmly, and Spencer could feel both their erections grinding against the other’s.

“Careful,” Spencer breathed between two kisses. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I wouldn’t,” Sam pressed a kiss in Spencer’s neck, “mind,” another kiss, “hurting myself,” one on Spencer’s jaw this time, “if it was like this.”

He kissed Spencer on the lips, sliding his tongue between their teeth and grinding once again against his boyfriend.

“Please don’t,” Spencer replied, a bit out of breath, his pants starting to feel tight. “I’d blame myself for days if you blow up your stitches because of me.”

Sam laughed, sliding a hand between them. They were sitting on the bed, Sam’s back resting against the wall while Spencer was straddling his laps, and Sam opened Spencer’s trousers while he was getting his shirt unbuttoned by the former FBI agent. After both their shirts were gone, Spencer pushed his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ears. Sam got Spencer’s dick out of his pants and started stroking him slowly, scattering his breath. Spencer threw his head back as Sam put his free hand in the hollow of his back to keep him close.

After a few seconds, Spencer undid Sam’s pants as well, setting his erection free and jerking him off a little.

“I was wondering,” Spencer started between two heavy breaths, “If you would be up for, uh, a little more ?”

“More ?” Sam raised an eyebrow, stroking Spencer faster.

“Not like that,” Spencer clarified. “I meant, uh, going all the way ?”

Sam smiled, returning to the usual pace. Himself was starting to get hot and was struggling to breathe normally.

“All the way ?” he asked, wanting Spencer to say it.

“Don’t make me say it,” Spencer whined, and it came out like a moan.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Sam teased, flipping his hair back and focusing on the tip of Spencer’s cock. “Come on Spence,” he added a few seconds later. “Speak your mind.”

“I want you to fuck me,” the young man let out in a breath. “Please.”

Sam laughed lightly, getting his hands of off Spencer’s dick and putting it in his boyfriend’s hair instead, kissing him fiercely.

“I haven’t gotten tested in a while though,” Sam admitted. “I mean, I only slept with Ruby but-”

“Ruby ?” Spencer interrupted him, stilling his hand. “The demon ?”

“Yeah, not too proud of that,” Sam sighed. “Anyway, I don’t really know what she was up to at the time and, well, with the demon blood and all, I think we did it unprotected a few times and I wouldn’t want you to-”

“Wait, wait wait wait,” Spencer interrupted him again, his voice high pitched. “You slept with a demon ?”

His hand was still between them, completely still, while Sam was pushing his hair out of his face.

“This is not the time to discuss my life choices,” the hunter groaned. “Anyway, I refuse to do it without a condom because I honestly don’t know if I’m clean or not- oh shit,” Sam had a sudden moment of realization. “I might have aids.”

“You really have to get tested,” Spencer nodded. “Do you have a condom ?”

Sam winced, and Spencer groaned, getting off of the bed.

“There must be a vending machine somewhere,” he said, buttoning his pants again before abruptly turning to Sam. “I mean, only if you want to do it.”

They looked at each other for a second, Sam’s penis still standing proudly in front of him.

“Go get that condom,” Sam simply replied.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He got out of the motel room and practically ran down the stairs, adjusting his pants a few times to be more comfortable (it didn’t work). He went in the street and, by miracle, there actually was a condom dispenser right next to the motel (which is pretty logic, when you think about it). Spencer got a few coins out of his pocket, bought what he needed, and was about to head back into the motel when he heard a distinct whooshing sound behind him.

“Ah ! Spencer,” Castiel’s deep voice said, and Spencer turned around.

“Castiel !” Spencer exclaimed, trying to be casual and putting a hand in his pocket to hide his erection. “How are you doing ?”

“Surprisingly well,” the angel answered.

“Dean went out on a ride,” Spencer quickly said. “Call him, he’ll tell you where he is exactly.”

“I see.” There was a pause during which Castiel’s eyes landed on Spencer’s hand. The one that was holding the condom. “What are you and Sam doing ?” he genuinely asked.

“Sam’s resting,” Spencer replied, starting to blush. “He, uh, got stabbed, but he’s alright though ! He just needs to rest.”

“That’s a condom, isn’t it ?” Castiel simply asked in return.

Spencer didn’t answer, and Castiel looked around awkwardly.

“I’ll leave you two to, uh, resting, then,” the angel said as Spencer nodded. “I’ll call Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah you do that,” Spencer said. “Nice to see you again !” he then shouted as he got back into the motel.

*

“I just ran into Castiel,” Spencer said very conversationally as he opened the condom wrapper.

“Fuck,” Sam replied, both because of what Spencer had said and because Spencer was rolling down the condom on Sam’s cock. “Did he see the condom ?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he cares that much.”

Sam chuckled.

“He’s probably banging my brother somewhere anyway. I don’t want to know what happens in that car when I’m not there.”

Spencer laughed, and sat back on Sam’s laps, kissing him and stroking both their dicks together, his hands slick with the lube from the condom. Sam put two fingers in his own mouth, soaking them up with saliva (which, for some reason, made Spencer’s dick twitch), before pressing his hand on Spencer’s ass. He introduced a first finger, slowly, giving Spencer some time to adjust, and then added a second finger.

“You’re not gonna break me,” Spencer said.

Sam smirked.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

With that, Spencer held his boyfriend’s cock against his hole, slowly sitting on it, wincing a little, but without great difficulty overall.

“You’re tight,” Sam remarked, more like a moan than an actual remark.

“I could give you the scientific explanation on why the anus contracts around-”

“Don’t,” Sam interrupted before kissing him.

That’s when Spencer started rolling his hips, making them both moan. After a few slow, shy movements, he started speeding up, getting more and more comfortable.

“I’m not gonna last long if you keeping doing this thing with your – ah – hips,” Sam said after a minute.

They were already a mess of sweat and breaths and kisses, and the hunter added to it by jerking of Spencer as the latest kept riding him, both his hands on Sam’s chest, bending over to kiss him from time to time.

Spencer came first, tightening around Sam who followed seconds after as Spencer kept riding for a moment before collapsing on his boyfriend, Sam’s dick slowly retreating out of him.

“That awkward encounter with Castiel was definitely worth it,” Spencer sighed, his cum already starting to dry between them both.

“Careful,” Sam winced. “My wound, careful,” he repeated. “Fuck, I hope there’s no cum in the wound. That would be a tough one to explain to Dean.”

They laughed, and Spencer went and got tissues to clean the both of them.

*

When Dean and Castiel came back, at around 4am, they found Sam and Spencer sleeping in one of the three single beds, Spencer’s head on Sam’s chest, their legs tangled together. Dean smiled before turning to Castiel, whispering :

“This room stinks like sex. It’s disgusting.”

“We literally just copulated in your car,” Castiel shrugged.

Dean pointed an accusing finger towards him.

“Don’t ever use that word again. Just say fuck.”

Chapter Text

They had been looking for Pestilence for a little while now, visiting several hospitals in search of information, or anything that could have led them to the third Horseman. Sam and Dean had explained everything to Spencer, how they needed the four Horseman’s rings to open The Cage and throw Lucifer back in it.

It was surprising seeing a middle-aged man with a round face and a black suit appear next to him in the back seat of the Impala, and Spencer screamed a little when Dean hit the brakes and Sam turned around, almost stabbing him.

“He’s gone !” Spencer exclaimed, lowering Sam’s knife.

Indeed, the man had disappeared as soon as he had appeared. Dean had stopped the car, and the same man knocked on the window, smiling.

“Fancy a fag and a little chat ?”

“Stay in the car,” Sam muttered to Spencer before he and Dean got out.

He obeyed, watching the scene from the window. Sam kept trying to stab the man for a minute or so, as he kept disappearing and reappearing out of Sam’s reach. After a few minutes, they came back in the car, Sam almost turning his back to Dean.

“What’s going on ?” Spencer asked. “Who was that guy ?”

“That was Crowley,” Dean explained as he started the car. “He’ll help us find Pestilence.”

“Or he’ll betray us,” Sam added, his voice dry and irritated. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Dean sighed heavily.

Well, this will be interesting, Spencer thought.

*

Sam and Crowley were arguing. The latest didn’t want Sam to come find the demon that could give them information about Pestilence’s whereabouts, and Sam was taking it very personally.

“Hey, Sam,” Spencer tried, gently, taking his hand. “We’ll wait for them here, alright ?”

After five more minutes, Sam finally agreed, collapsing in the old, dusty couch. The house they were in was in horrible condition, and they wouldn’t have been surprised if the ceiling were to fall on their head. Spencer sat next to him, calmly, pressing a hand on his knee.

“They’ll be fine without you,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying, I’m angry,” Sam snapped back.

Spencer strayed a bit away from him, straightening his posture and retreating his hand.

“Shit,” the hunter sighed, looking down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a dick.”

Spencer smiled sadly, not answering.

“Dean told me there was some alcohol in the bedroom,” Sam said after a moment. “You want a drink ?”

“Sure,” Spencer shrugged.

When Sam came back with the oldest rum bottle Spencer had ever seen, the young man suddenly wished he hadn’t accepted Sam’s offer.

And so they drank. Eventually, Spencer started getting tipsy, and stopped drinking. But that didn’t stop Sam from almost finishing the bottle, before his boyfriend took it away from him.

“ ‘been thinking,” Sam muttered. “Y’know, for Lucifer ?”

“Hm,” Spencer distractedly answered as he was helping Sam up to the bedroom.

“A friend of mine got possessed once, but guess what ?”

“What ?”, Spencer played along, sitting him down on the bed and unbuttoning his shirt.

“He got control back of his body for a few seconds. Think abou’ it.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Spencer assured to a now shirtless Sam, bending over to take off his shoes.

“If I say yes to Lucifer,” at this, Spencer shot him a worried glance, “and take control of the body, I can throw the both of us in the cage !”

“Don’t say that,” Spencer said, laying him down.

“We haven’t found how to put him in the cage yet !” the hunter protested, getting Spencer’s hands off of him and sitting up. “This-” he put a finger in the air and rose his eyebrows. “This is the best idea we’ve had yet.”

“You’re drunk,” Spencer replied. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“I beg to differ,” Sam retorted, and Spencer rolled his eyes. “I once thought it was a great idea to get addicted to demon blood.”

The former FBI agent sighed. He had never seen Sam that drunk, and he couldn’t have imagined him being this insufferable after a few too many drinks.

“Go to sleep,” he ordered, and Sam grabbed him by the collar of his flannel button-up (which he had actually stolen from Sam), kissing him.

“Only if you come with me.”

Spencer giggled and laid down next to him. Spencer played with the hunter’s hair for ten minutes before Sam fell asleep, still wearing his jeans and his breath stinking bad rum.

Spencer didn’t sleep much, watching over Sam and waiting for Dean and Crowley to return.

*
“Go ruin our last best hope. It’s only the end of the world.”

Spencer woke up, fully clothed, confused. He had intended to stay awake but, apparently, his body had decided otherwise. He opened his eyes just in time to see Sam exit the room, and got up as fast as possible to follow him.

When he came down, what he saw was one of the more disturbing things he had ever seen. The man tied up to the chair was a bleeding mess, his eyes completely black, and runes were carved on his skin. Sam seemed horrified as well, and Dean was looking at his brother, concerned.

“Brady ?” Sam asked, and Spencer frowned. Sam knew that man ?

“Brady ?” the man – or rather, the demon – chuckled. “Oh, Brady hasn’t been Brady since sophomore year.”

Spencer didn’t understand, and turned to Sam, who looked as confused as him, breathing heavily and frowning.

“Yeah, that’s right,” the demon went on. “You had a devil on your shoulder even back then.”

That’s when Sam snapped.

“You son of a bitch !” he shouted.

He tried to grab him by the throat, but Dean interposed and manhandled Sam out of the room.

“You son of a bitch !” Sam repeated. “You introduced me to Jess !”

That Jess girl again, Spencer thought. He still didn’t know what had happened to her.

“Calm down,” Dean said, closing the door behind the three of them. “We need him, you can’t kill him !”

“Of course I can,” Sam replied, and Spencer had never seen such rage in his eyes. “Get out of my way, Dean.”

“Sam,” Spencer intervened. “Listen to Dean, he’s right. We won’t locate Pestilence without him.”

Sam looked at the both of them, his eyes juggling between the two people he cared the most about and the door behind them.

And he sat down on the couch.

*

“The little shit,” Dean growled, pounding on the door, trying to open it. “Let us out ! Sammy !”

Spencer sighed. Locking the both of them in the bedroom was pretty low, especially coming from Sam.

“He’s gonna kill the guy,” Dean whined. “And we’ll never catch Pestilence and Lucifer will destroy the fucking earth and-”

“He won’t kill him,” Spencer replied. “He’s smart, he’ll do the right thing.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Sam doesn’t always do the ‘right thing’ when the people he cares about are at stake !” Dean retorted, speaking quickly and clenching his teeth.

“People like you ?”

Dean took a step back.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Come on, it’s your chance to know what happened.

“People like Jess ?”

Dean frowned.

“He told you about Jess ?”

Spencer shrugged.

“I’ve heard her name a few times.”

He had to be careful with this. It was obviously a sensitive topic, maybe even to Dean.

“What happened exactly ?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well,” Dean started, laying his back on the locked door. “When Sam went to law school, he dated a girl. It was pretty serious : they were supposed to get married.”

“Why didn’t they ?” Spencer asked.

“I needed Sam for a hunt,” Dean went on. “When we came back, Jessica was dead. I had to drag Sam out of their burning apartment.”

“Oh God,” Spencer whispered, his eyebrows frowning in compassion.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled nervously. “Sam was devastated. I didn’t think he would ever get over her, to be honest. But then you came into the scene and-”

“But there was Ruby,” Spencer countered.

“Yeah… No. Ruby was a demon. Sam was addicted to her blood. Their relationship was anything but healthy. It’s different with you.”

Spencer didn’t dare look Dean in the eyes. He felt like the Winchester was about to give him one more ‘big brother speech’ and, to be honest, he wasn’t particularly thrilled about those.

“I actually think you’re good for him. You’re like… you’re like a shelter, you know ? He doesn’t have to be a hunter with you, or a hero, or the man who’s gonna save the world. And a shelter like this, in the violent hunting world ? That’s priceless, man. He’s lucky to have you.”

Spencer looked up.

“To be honest,” he said, “he’s kind of a shelter for me too. I’m not SSA Reid when I’m with him. I’m just Spencer. I don’t have any case to solve or any life to save, if that makes sense ?”

Dean nodded.

“Yeah, that makes sense. Come on now, help me open this fucking door.”

*

They tried everything, but nothing worked and they had to patiently wait for Sam to come and let them out. Dean was pleasantly surprised to see that the demon was still there.

“We need him, don’t we ?” Sam said as Crowley appeared again.

Spencer stayed in the other room while the demon was blackmailing the other demon, refraining a laugh when he heard the words ‘lovers in league against Satan’.

He was pretty sure everything was going well, when they heard howls not that far from the house they were in.

“What was that ?” Spencer asked, turning to Dean.

“A hell hound,” Crowley replied, and Dean’s eyes widened in fear.

“Hell hound ?”

A coin fell from Crowley’s sleeve, and the demon groaned.

“They planted it on me. Bastards.”

“You mean that thing followed your there ?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Looks like it,” Crowley said before disappearing.

“Bastard !” Dean exclaimed. “He abandoned us !”

“I told you !” Sam shouted.

Dean rolled his eyes and made a face.

“Well good for you.”

Spencer sighed. Five years old kids.

“Now is not the time,” he reminded them.

“There’s salt in the kitchen,” Dean said. “Spencer, grab a gun.”

Spencer obeyed, following Dean as Sam said :

“I’ll watch Brady.”

Dean didn’t even have time to reach the salt. The kitchen’s window broke, and an invisible force broke the wooden table.

“Shoot it !” Dean screamed.

Spencer was struggling to keep calm, charging the shotgun and shooting blindly.

“I can’t see it !”

“No shit !” Dean replied as they both backed up, Spencer shooting a second time. “They are invisible !”

“And you couldn’t have told me that sooner ?”

They ran back to the room where Sam and Brady were, without the salt and with an empty gun.

“Salt ?” Sam asked.

Dean winced and shook his head. Spencer put two more bullets in the gun’s chambers as the hell hound growled, only a few meters away.

Suddenly, Crowley appeared across the room.

“Stay,” he said firmly, and the hell hound seemed to squeak.

“You can control them ?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“Not that one,” the demon replied. “I brought my own.” He gestured to the air besides him. “Mines bigger,” he added, patting the head of the invisible Hell hound. “Sick him, boy !” he then shouted.

Even though they couldn’t see anything, the hound’s screams of pain were pretty self-evident to what was happening here. Spencer sighed.

He had almost died today. From an invisible dog of Hell.

When had his life gotten so weird ?

They left shortly after Brady told them where Pestilence was, driving to an empty, narrow, dark street. There, Crowley said goodbye and left, leaving the three hunters there with Brady. Dean poured salt across the street, trapping the demon, who had started to laugh. Spencer was standing a bit afar, curious of what was going to happen next.

“All those demons, all those angels, all those sons of bitches,” Dean started, smirking. “They don’t get it, do they Sammy ?”

“No they don’t, Dean,” Sam replied.

The demon laughed again, and Sam got the demon-killing blade out of his belt.

“You see, Brady,” Dean said as they both walked towards the demon. “We’re the ones you should be afraid of.”

Brady had stopped laughing, and Spencer understood what was coming.

“Sam, don’t-”

“Go back to the car, Spence,” Sam interrupted him.

Resigned, knowing nothing he could say would change his mind, Spencer turned around as the demon screamed and the street was suddenly illuminated with flashing lights for a second.

Chapter Text

They were at Bobby’s. As surprising as it was (it was no surprise, really) Sam and Dean were arguing loudly.

“What the hell is wrong with you ?” Dean asked while coming into the living room, where Bobby and Spencer were quietly reading.

“Dean-” Sam tried.

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me. I mean, you’ve had some stupid ideas in the past, but this-”

Spencer tried to stay focused on his book. It was one of Bobby’s, actually, an ancient lore book which was pretty interesting once you got into it. Dean turned to Bobby.

“Did you know about this ?”

“What ?” Bobby asked, rolling towards Dean in his wheelchair.

“About Sam’s genius plan to say yes to the devil !”

Bobby nodded slowly, and Dean opened his mouth, scandalized.

“Well thanks for the heads up !”

“Hey, this ain’t about me,” Bobby defended himself.

Dean’s phone rang, and he picked up, pointing an accusing finger at Sam.

“This isn’t over.”

*

When Dean and Sam came back from their little trip to the convalescence home with not only Pestilence’s ring, but also Castiel, it was a small but significant victory. They decided to separate : Dean and Crowley would go get Death’s ring while Sam, Bobby and Castiel would go try to stop to Croatoan apocalypse.

They were on the verge of leaving when Spencer got out of the house, a shotgun in hand, his service weapon hanging off his belt.

“Were you going to leave without me ?” he asked, like he didn’t believe it.

“It’s too dangerous,” Sam simply replied, getting in the van. “You stay here, and I’ll keep in touch, alright ?”

“There’s no way I’m staying here while you’re all out there risking your lives,” Spencer protested.

“Well,” Crowley intervened. “We wouldn’t mind one more guy with us.”

“He’s coming with me,” Sam declared, getting out of the van and grabbing Spencer’s arm. “God, you’re really insufferable,” he muttered in his ear.

Spencer smiled, getting in the back of the van next to Castiel.

“I know.”

*

Spencer was half sleeping. Bobby, who had just regained the use of his legs thanks to Crowley, was driving, and Sam and Castiel were discussing the plan to put Lucifer down.

“Michael has found another vessel. Your brother, Adam.”

At these words, Spencer woke up completely.

“You have another brother ?” he asked.

He had never heard of Adam, and why would Sam keep this information from him ?

“Long story short,” Sam explained, “My dad slept with a woman while out on a hunt, years ago. The woman got pregnant, Adam was born, and since then my dear father went to see him a few times a year. Now, Adam died since, but apparently Michael brought him back and is using him as his new meat-suit.”

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “Wow.”

Spencer started to drift into sleep again, but he was awaken by the words “demon blood”.

“What ?” Sam said, turning to Castiel. “What are you talking about ?”

“To take in Lucifer, it would be more than you’ve ever drunk,” the angel clarified.

“Why ?” Spencer asked, straightening in his seat, not liking this at all.

“It strengthens the vessel, keeps it from exploding,” Castiel casually said.

“But the guy he’s in now-” Sam started.

“Is drinking galleon,” Castiel finished.

“You can’t be serious, Sam,” Spencer whined. “This is a bad idea. Back to demon blood, really ?”

“This is none of your concern,” the hunter snapped back.

“And even if you success,” Spencer went on, his voice high-pitched, “It means you’ll-”

“I’ll do what I have to do, alright ?” Sam shouted, turning around to look Spencer in the eyes.

Spencer sat back in his seat. He didn’t manage to sleep for the rest of the trip.

*

When they arrived and entered the warehouse, some of the employees were already infected by the Croatoan virus. Spencer tried not to think too much about the fact that, minutes ago, these were real, totally harmless people as he helped Bobby and Sam put them all down.

“Help ! Help me !”

It was a woman’s voice, shouting from behind the shelves, and Sam started to follow the voice. Spencer went after him, while Bobby stayed there with the demon-killing blade.

There was a woman climbing up a ladder, and a guy clinging to her foot. Sam shot the zombie, but another one came behind them, and Spencer hit his head with his gun before putting a bullet through his skull. Another man – not infected – was there as well, and the four of them got back to Bobby.

They kept getting people out of the warehouse when, suddenly, an infected jumped Spencer, pinning him to the ground. Sam was away with other civilians, and Bobby tried to shoot the thing, but he was out of ammo. Suddenly, the zombie’s head exploded with a loud noise, splashing Spencer’s face with blood, and Castiel looked over him, helping him get up before observing the shotgun he was holding.

“Actually, these things can be useful.”

Spencer scoffed, wide-eyed.

When Sam returned, he ran over to Spencer.

“Are you alright ?” he asked, his voice urgent, when he noticed all the blood on his face.

“I think so,” Spencer answered, wiping his mouth and eyes.

“Come on,” Bobby groaned. “We’ve got work to do.”

*

Blowing up the whole warehouse went easily once Bobby killed the demons guarding it. They went back to Singer Salvage Yard, all safe and sane, and Dean joined them shortly after, with Death’s ring.

When the night came and everyone went to sleep (after Dean complained a bit too long about having to share a room with Castiel), Spencer couldn’t help but bring up that sensitive topic again :

“So you’re really gonna do it ?” he asked while taking his shoes off, sitting on a chair afar from the bed.

Sam sighed heavily, not answering, taking his shirt off and sliding under the covers.

“Hey,” Spencer voice had softened. “Talk to me.”

“I’m scared,” Sam admitted, voice trembling.

Spencer turned to him, his plaid button-up shirt half-undone.

“You don’t have to do it, we’ll find another way of-”

“That’s the thing, Spencer !” Sam exclaimed, sitting up again. “We won’t ! We’ve thought of everything already, and this is the best idea we’ve came up with !”

“Well I’ll come up with something else !” Spencer replied, getting up and sitting next to Sam on the bed. “Because I won’t let you die !”

“You’ll have to,” Sam declared, lowering his voice.

“You don’t understand,” Spencer whispered, sniffing. “I- I can’t watch you die, alright ?”

“No one’s asking you to watch.”

Spencer turned away from him, clenching his jaw and putting his hair behind his ears, taking a deep breath, exhaling as the air trembled between his lips.

“I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” he finally muttered, watching his hands.

“You can still go back to Quantico,” Sam said, very matter-of-factly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, technically. And your team needs you, they’ll take you back.”

Spencer sniffed and wiped the tear rolling down his cheek.

“I don’t want to.”

“This will be better for you,” Sam insisted. “You’ll be better in Quantico than with us.”

“How can you say that ?” Spencer asked, turning to him.

“Sleeping in shitty motel rooms, driving around for hours every day, eating crappy food, all bought with stolen money, staining all your clothes with blood and having bruises and wounds every time we do anything isn’t good enough of a life for you, alright ?” Sam snapped. “This isn’t even a life ! You deserve better !” He raised his voice, almost shouting : “You deserve to live, Spence, rather than just survive !”

“A life with you in it is enough of a life for me !” Spencer shouted back, tears streaming down his face as he looked his boyfriend in the eyes.

Sam licked his lips while looking away, biting on his tongue.

“We have no choice,” he finally said.

“There’s always a choice,” Spencer replied, his voice breaking.

“Not this time.”

As soon as he had stopped talking, Sam was surprised by Spencer’s lips right on his.

“Don’t do this, Sam, I’m begging you,” he whispered, breaking up the kiss.

Instead of answering, Sam kissed him back, taking them both on the bed, finishing to strip Spencer from his clothes.

They slept well that night. Better than they would for several months.

*

“You’re okay with him doing this ?”

For once, it wasn’t Dean and Sam who were arguing, but rather Dean and Spencer. Things were heating up in Bobby’s kitchen, and it was taking all of Dean’s patience and self-control for him not to smash Spencer’s head against the wall right now.

“Of course not !” he replied. “But this isn’t about me – or you.”

“So you’re going to let him die ?”

Dean clenched his teeth, looking at the young man in front of him.

“Listen,” he started, getting closer. “I don’t like this any more than you do, alright ? But it’s time we stop being selfish, and let Sam save the world. It doesn’t matter that we lose him, if the alternative is losing everything !”

“Looks pretty much the same to me,” Spencer retorted, crossing his arms, and Dean sighed heavily.

“Stop being a fucking child. Lucifer is going to destroy the earth and annihilate the human race if we don’t do this.” He walked up even closer to him, showing his teeth as he spoke. "I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine. And – let me tell you – it’s nothing compared to what Lucifer will do. It’s no time to be selfish. Sam is a grown man. If he wants to do this, he will.”

Spencer walked passed him, shoving him in the process, storming out of the kitchen.

“Are you alright ?” Castiel asked him as he walked across the living room, going up the stairs.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” he muttered.

A few seconds after, the angel and the older Winchester heard a door slam.

“He’ll calm down,” Dean simply said, handing a bear to Castiel.

“It must be hard for him,” Castiel thought out loud after taking a sip.

“Hey,” Dean protested. “It’s hard for me too. I’ve known Sam my whole life.”

“I didn’t mean that it was easy for you, Dean,” Castiel replied. “It’s hard for you both. You shouldn’t be fighting like that. You should be helping each other out.”

“Yeah ?” Dean scoffed, downing half his bear. “Go tell that to him.”

*

They went to get two demons and drained them from their blood, filling up bottles. Spencer refused to help, sitting in the car the whole time. The demon blood thing was the worst part of it. He had known Sam while the hunter was struggling against his addiction, had given him advice about how to handle it. Seeing him about to relapse like that… Well, it wasn’t easy. Especially considering his own history with substance abuse.

*

“You gotta promise me something.”

Once again, Spencer was eaves-dropping, half asleep in the back-seat of the Impala, next to Castiel who was far away into sleep.

“Okay, yeah, anything,” Dean’s voice replied.

Spencer stayed still, keeping his eyes closed.

“You gotta promise not to try to bring me back.”

That’s when the tears threatened to come. Every time he thought he had a bit of peace, something reminded him of Sam’s imminent death.

“What ?” Dean asked. “No, I didn’t sign up for that-”

“Dean-”

“Your hell is gonna make my tour look like Graceland,” Dean went on, raising his voice a little. “Want me to just sit by, do nothing ?”

Spencer was a bit relieved to learn that, even though Dean was letting Sam do this, he wasn’t completely letting his little brother down.

“Once the cage is shut you can’t go poke it Dean,” Sam replied. “It’s too risky.”

“No, no no no. As if I’m just gonna let you rot in there.”

“Yeah, you don’t have a choice.”

“You can’t ask me to do this,” Dean snapped.

“I’m sorry, Dean. You have to.”

There was a long pause, during which Spencer held his breath.

“So then what am I supposed to do ?” Dean asked.

“You make sure Spencer goes back to his life in Quantico. And then you go get a house with Cas,” Sam replied, and Dean scoffed. “You pray to God he’s dumb enough to accept to live with the insufferable, impulsive, selfless, loving and caring man that you are. You have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean”

Again, a pause.

“Promise me !” Sam added.

There was a long, awfully long silence.

*

It had been well over a month since Spencer Reid’s disappearance. The BAU team was restless, looking for him in-between cases, Garcia putting up every alert possible on her computers : credit card, phone localisation, facial recognition… If Spencer ever was to appear again, the technical analyst would know.

Sadly, the youngest team member had gone off the grid for good. They kept looking, of course. JJ would ask every reporter she met if they knew anything about him or the Winchester brothers, while the rest of the team kept investigating on Sam and Dean, looking for any clue that could help them find Spencer.

No one was sleeping well, but Hotch was sleeping the worst of them all. He would come to work with darker circles under his eyes every day, yawning a little more, hunching over his desk. A case-wall had been put up in one unused conference room, displaying the Winchesters’ faces, trying to figure out what was their deal exactly.

“They must have some kind of weird co-dependency,” Morgan said one day, as they were all sitting in that same conference room, working on the case.

“The incest kind ?” Prentiss asked, wincing.

“Ew, gross,” JJ piped in, her legs crossed.

“Maybe,” Morgan replied. “I mean, whatever these guys are doing, they do it together. Except for that part when Sam went to college, and those three months where Dean seemed to disappear completely, these guys are always seen together.”

“I can understand Sam trying to get out of the familial home for a while,” Rossi said, before frowning. “But what happened during those three months ? I mean, we still see Sam on some video surveillance, but alone. Why would they separate for three whole months ?”

“Maybe they had a fight,” JJ tried. “And Dean went somewhere he knew his little brother wouldn’t find him.”

“None of this makes sense,” Prentiss sighed. “This might be the worst case we’ve ever worked on. It hurts my head just looking at that wall.”

No one said anything, even though they were all thinking it :

They were tired.

Tired of following useless leads and looking for non-existent clues. Tired of staying up late at night, turning and turning and turning in their bed, trying to think of something they had missed. Tired of getting up every day with Spencer’s name on their tongues and his face imprinted on their eyelids.

“We must keep thinking,” Hotch suddenly said, breaking the silence.

He wasn’t talking much these days, often hiding in his office and taking his lunch alone.

“We’re missing something,” he went on. “We still don’t know what these guys’ motive is.”

“They are psychopaths,” Morgan replied. “They don’t need a motive.”

“No- no,” Hotch insisted, getting up, walking closer to the wall. “Before leaving, Spencer told me something- something I can’t stop thinking about.”

The whole team was focused now, straightening in their seats and staring at their unit chief.

“You don’t have the whole story,” he quoted, looking at the ground. “But when I asked for the whole story, he didn’t tell me. He just asked me to trust him, like I wouldn’t understand.”

“Spencer was confused,” Rossi interrupted him. “The Winchester brothers have manipulated him, I don’t think he was totally lucid that day. Maybe he was just repeating what Sam had told him to explain why he and his brother were acting the way they were.”

“Well,” Morgan said after checking his phone. “Garcia found psychiatric hospital records. Obviously they’re not under the Winchester’s real name, but it’s definitely them on the security cameras.”

“A psychiatric hospital ?” Hotch asked. “Did they get there willingly ?”

“Yes, apparently,” Morgan answered. “And they were both diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic with religious psychosis…”

He raised his eyebrows and winced.

“Dean also has a narcissistic personality disorder, and Sam has severe anger management issues.”

“It makes me sick to think I let Henry near this guy,” JJ muttered, and Emily looked at her with compassion.

That’s when Garcia chimed in, half-running.

“What’s wrong ?” Hotch immediately asked as they all turned to her.

“Spencer is back,” she let out in a breath. “He’s in front of the building.”

Chapter Text

Spencer was standing next to Sam, both staring at the bottles in the Impala’s trunk, filled with demon blood.

“Would you mind not watching this ?” the Winchester asked, not even looking at Spencer.

Without a word, the former FBI agent joined Dean over the other side of the car. It was just the three of them, since Bobby and Castiel had gone back to Bobby’s house. They didn’t all need to be here. Spencer didn’t even need to be here, but he had insisted on it, not wanting to leave Sam alone.

“He won’t be alone,” Dean had protested. “I’ll be here for him.”

But Spencer had tagged along anyway.

“I don’t like this,” Spencer whispered to Dean.

They were both able to hear Sam chugging the demon blood, only a few meters away from them. Dean turned to him, rolling his eyes.

“This is the part that bothers you ?”

“Everything bothers me !” Spencer snapped, still keeping his voice low so Sam wouldn’t hear, his hands moving frantically. “The relapsing part, the letting Lucifer in part, and especially the getting locked up in the cage forever part !”

“It isn’t too late for me to call Cas and ask him to take you away, you know ?”

Spencer took a deep breath and held back a mean, not-Spencer-Reid-like comeback, only a second before the trunk of the Impala got slammed and Sam came towards them.

He still had a little bit of blood at the corner of his lips, his eyes hollow and his breath heavy. He walked past his brother and boyfriend without even glancing at them, simply saying :

“Okay, let’s go.”

He walked towards a building – the one Lucifer was in, according to Castiel.

“All right !” Sam shouted, spreading his arms. “We’re here you sons of bitches ! Come and get it !”

Spencer frowned. Sam was acting odd. Then again, Sam was currently high on demon blood.

Three man came out of the building – demons. The hunters didn’t even try to fight them, but still tried to get out of their hold as the three of them were getting manhandled up the stairs.

“Hey guys,” a fourth man said, facing the window and away from them. “It’s so nice of you to drop in.”

Spencer glanced at Sam, who still had this look in his eyes. The scary, threatening, so unlike-Sam look.

“Sorry if it’s a bit chilly,” the man went on, blowing mist on the window. “Most people think I burn hot. It’s quite the opposite.”

Indeed, Spencer was getting chills. Both from the temperature and the man’s calm, controlled voice.

“Well, I’ll alert the media,” Dean retorted, and the man turned around.

Spencer expected horns, red eyes, or even a distorted face. He pretty much expected everything from the devil, except a totally regular appearance. This was the face and body of an average man, and maybe that was even scarier than anything he might have imagined.

“We’re not here to fight you,” Sam said.

“No ?” Lucifer asked, raising his eyebrows. “Why are you here, then ?”

“I want to say yes.”

That caught Lucifer off-guard.

“Excuse me ?”

Spencer glanced at Sam, who had closed his eyes. The three demons behind them dropped on the floor, dead. Dean and Spencer looked at each other, and it was hard to say which one was the most freaked out.

This definitely wasn’t the Sam Spencer knew.

“You’re serious,” Lucifer said, deadpan.

“Look,” Sam started like he hadn’t just killed three demons effortlessly. “Judgement day’s a runaway train. We get it now, we just want off.”

“Meaning ?” Lucifer asked.

“Deal of the century,” Sam clarified. “I give you a free ride but, when it’s all over, I live,” he pointed at Sam and Spencer “they live, you bring our parents back-”

“Ok, can we please drop the telenovela ?” Lucifer interrupted him, sounding slightly annoyed. “I know you have the rings.”

The three of them held their breath as Lucifer started walking, gravitating around Sam.

“Come on, Sam,” the devil went on. “I’ve never lied to you, you could at least pay me the same respect.”

After a few seconds, he kept going :

“It’s okay, I’m not mad. A wrestling match inside your noggin’, I like the idea. Just you and me, one round, no tricks. You win, you jump in the hole. I win…. Well, then I win.”

He almost sounded amused, and Spencer found himself wondering why he hadn’t gone back with Castiel and Bobby.

“So he knows,” Sam simply stated, looking right in front of him. “Doesn’t change anything.”

“Sam-” Spencer started.

“We don’t have any other choice,” Sam interrupted him.

“Sam no-” Dean tried.

“Yes,” Sam said very clearly, facing Lucifer, who smiled wildly.

There was a blinding light, and then Sam was laying on the ground, along with Lucifer’s previous vessel.

Dean didn’t waste time : he put the rings on the wall while Spencer chanted the incantation he had memorized. The wall crumbled in a mix of wind and dust and dull sounds, and they were now facing a deep, dark, howling hole.

“Dean,” Sam whined on the floor, struggling to get up. “I can feel him.”

“You gotta go now !” Spencer told him.

“Go now Sammy,” Dean added.

Sam was facing the hole, breathing heavily and, as he was about to jump in, he turned towards them.

“I was just messing with you,” he smiled. “Sam is long gone.”

With a few words, he locked the cage and picked up the rings, shoving them in his pocket.

“I told you,” he added, looking at Dean. “This would always happen in Detroit.”

*

“This was pointless,” Spencer muttered.

He and Dean were sitting in the building. The Winchester was holding his head in his hands, looking down, while Spencer was staring at the air in front of him.

“Fucking pointless,” he added, a bit louder.

“We don’t even have the rings anymore,” Dean replied. “Fuck.”

Spencer wasn’t even crying. He hadn’t yet processed what had happened. He was still in shock and, more than anything, in denial.

“We’ll get him back,” he affirmed. “We’ll get him back.”

Dean didn’t say anything.

“We’ll get him back,” the former FBI agent repeated, nodding.

*

They had gone back to Bobby and Castiel, in the streets, watching the news on the TVs displayed from the stores. Apocalyptic images of natural disasters and weird occurrences were on every screen, on every channel.

“It’s starting,” Castiel said.

“You think, genius ?” Dean retorted.

The angled turned to him, frowning.

“You don’t have to be mean.”

There was a pause.

“So…” Spencer started, everyone staring at him. “What do we do now ?”

Castiel shrugged.

“I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol. Wait for the inevitable blast wave.”

“Yes, well thank you Bokowski,” Dean snapped. “He meant : how do we stop it ?”

Spencer nodded, silently thanking him for clarifying.

“We don’t,” the angel replied. “Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field. And the battle of Armageddon begins.”

“Well, where’s this chosen field ?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know.”

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Spencer insisted, looking around him.

Castiel swallowed his saliva.

“I’m sorry. This is over.”

Dean turned around like he was about to punch something, clenching his jaw, before getting closer to Castiel.

“Listen to me, you junkless sissy. We are not giving up.” He then turned to Bobby. “Bobby.”

The older man tilted his chin and shook his head.

“Bobby ?” Dean repeated.

“There was never much hope to begin with,” Bobby replied. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Spencer turned around and started walking. Anywhere. He needed to go literally anywhere but here. He needed to get away, to breathe for a second.

He ended up in a bar, downing a few drinks – too many drinks, actually. He was following the angel’s advice, and he was following it all the way through. What else could he do ? He couldn’t fight the devil, that would be stupid. Even more stupid, knowing that if he tried to fight him, he would have to fight Sam as well.

He was arguing with the bartender, who was refusing to give him another glass of vodka, when Castiel went to get him.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” the former FBI agent protested as the angel dragged him out of the bar, grabbing him by the collar of his plaid button-up shirt.

“Stop being reckless,” Castiel answered. “We’re going to try something, are you in ?”

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly – a bit too quickly. “Just,” he started, getting away from Castiel now that they were in the street. “Wait a sec-”

He threw up on the pavement while Castiel winced.

“Do you, uh, want me to hold your hair ?” the angel offered politely.

“I got it, thanks,” Spencer replied before bending over again.

*

Bobby, Castiel and Spencer appeared in the Stull Cemetery, a few hours later. Dean, Michael and Sam- Lucifer, Spencer needed to remember that this was Lucifer in Sam’s body – were already there, on the verge of fighting.

“Hey, assbut !” Castiel called, before throwing the bottle he had in hand to Michael, who disappeared in a flash of light and a high-pitched, unbearable scream.

Dean turned to the angel, raising an eyebrow.

“Ass-but ?”

“He’ll be back, and upset,” Castiel stated. “But you got your five minutes.”

This was the plan Spencer had been explained : getting Michael out of the way to try to bring Sam back in control.

Sam turned – no, no, Lucifer – Lucifer turned towards the three of them, away from Dean.

“Castiel,” he said, and his voice was just like Sam's, except for the tone, which was cold, emotion-less. “Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire ?”

“Uh,” Castiel replied. “No.”

“No one dicks with Michael, but me,” Lucifer then said before snapping his fingers.

A loud, splashy, disgusting sound. Blood everywhere on his face, clothes, hands.

Castiel had just exploded. And he was all over Spencer and Bobby.

The former FBI agent started hyperventilating, fear finally coming through as he realized this had sounded like a much better idea when he was still drunk.

“So you’re the FBI guy, uh ?” Lucifer started, taking a step towards him as Spencer walked backwards. “You’re all over Sam’s mind,” he then added. “It would be a shame if anything happened to y-”

The devil suddenly winced and, for a second – just a second – Sam was standing in front of him again.

“Spencer.”

But it was enough. Enough for Spencer to be sent away.

“I lov-”

And then Spencer was standing on the pavement, away from Sam and Lucifer and those words he had been about to hear.

He was standing on the pavement, and he was nothing but plaid and blood, tears and heavy breaths, when he fell on his knees, wiping his face frantically, spreading the thick, hot liquid all over himself.

He needed a few minutes before realizing his was only two streets away from the BAU and, in a brief moment of clarity, he got up and started walking.

“Oh my God-” was the first thing he heard, not even after two minutes of standing in front of the building.

He needed to get a hold of Dean. He needed to call him, to ask him if Sam was okay. Because, if Sam had been able to take over Lucifer to send him away, then-

“Reid ! Spencer !”

Voices were screaming his name. And it was loud, and messy, and the bloody shirt was sticking to his ribs and his hand was struggling to get the disposable phone in his pocket and-

“Let him breathe ! He’s in shock, for God’s sake !”

“Hotch,” Spencer whispered, recognizing the voice.

“I’m here, Reid, I’m here,” the unit chief kept repeating.

Spencer’s vision was troubled by tears and blood, only able to discern the shape of his boss in a suit.

“I need to call Dean,” Spencer told him, holding onto his arm as he was feeling faint. “Make sure Sam is okay. I need-”

He was on his knees again, Hotch following him on the ground, two more hands grabbing him from behind and preventing him from falling as he passed out.

*

“Why is there so much blood ?” Garcia kept repeating.

“Stay calm, I already called 911,” JJ reassured her. “I don’t think the blood is his.”

“And this is supposed to be less concerning ?” Garcia exclaimed.

They stayed with an unconscious Spencer for ten minutes before the ambulance came. Hotch and Morgan went into the vehicle with him, while JJ, Garcia, Prentiss and Rossi followed them with an SUV.

“What happened to him ?” Prentiss wondered out loud.

Garcia turned to her.

“I hope he’ll be alright.”

“He will,” Rossi assured. “He’s a tough kid. We’ll figure this out.”

But even Rossi was worried. Because when you haven’t seen someone for over a month and they suddenly appear on the FBI’s doorstep, covered in someone else’s blood, that someone usually isn’t alright.

Chapter Text

“He doesn’t have any serious injury,” the nurse said, handing over Spencer’s file to Hotch. “He’s only got a few cuts and bruises on his arms, face and legs, but they go back to a few days now and are all healing nicely. It looks like he went through a tough month, while still being properly nourished and hydrated.”

“Do you think he could have been held up in a basement or something ?” the unit chief asked while reading over the file quickly.

“Well, if he was, they took good care of him,” the nurse answered. “His clothes were clean, except from the fresh blood, and his hair looks like it’s been washed regularly. He’s healthy, agent Hotch. If any damage has been done, it will only be psychological.”

“Thank you,” he answered, giving them the file back.

He looked over to Spencer’s room. The door was closed, but he could see him through the large window. His young agent was sleeping peacefully and, now that the blood was all gone, he could actually see the few cuts the nurse had just told him about. He entered the room, closing the door trying to make as little noise as possible, and sat on the chair next to his bed.

His hair was longer, reaching his shoulders, a bit disorganized and tangled. His left eyebrow was slit, the fresh scar looking like it had been stitched messily, and there were a few cuts on his chin and his cheeks. He was wearing a long-sleeved hospital gown, but Hotch bent over and lifted one of his sleeves, discovering cuts, scratches and bruises on his arm, up to his shoulder. There was also a big, deep purple bruise on his collar bone, spreading under the gown but, apart from that, Spencer Reid looked pretty alright.

His phone buzzed and he looked at it, Garcia’s number popping up for the eleventh time in the past twenty minutes.

sent from : Penelope
to : you

okay I know you’re my boss and my job may be compromised by this text but answer me you stupid fuck

Hotch refrained a smile. It was touching to see his team worrying so much about Spencer, even if Garcia could have been less… straightforward, in her texts.

sent from : you
to : Penelope

For your sake (and mine), I will ignore that last text. Spencer is still unconscious, but he’s alright. You can all come see him, we’re on the third floor. I’ll wait for you in front of his door.

*

Spencer was alert. He was barely awake, but already analyzing his surroundings, his eyes still closed. Old house ? Vampire nest ? Some creepy woods ?
But it hit him. The memories of what had just happened. He was back in Quantico, and judging by the smell, he was probably in a-

“He’s awake !” a voice he recognized whispered.

She was holding his hand gently and, as he opened his eyes, he met JJ’s.

“Hand-”

He took a deep breath and rattled his throat, gesturing towards his clothes stacked in a corner of the room.

“Hand me my phone.”

JJ frowned and bit her lips.

“Spencer, you should rest. You’ve been through-”

The young man looked around. There was only one more person in the room, and he was sitting on a chair at the opposite of him and JJ. Hotch was looking at him, jaw clenched.

“Jennifer,” Spencer cut her off. “Give me my phone.”

She looked at her boss, and Spencer followed her gaze, noticing Hotch was holding something in his hands.

“Have you been in contact with the Winchester brothers this whole time ?” the unit chief asked, deadpan.

Spencer paused.

“I have,” he admitted. “Now, please, give me my phone, I need to call someone.”

“Sam ?” Hotch asked.

“No,” Spencer replied. “His brother. Please, don’t make me-”

He clenched his jaw, interrupting himself, and Hotch gave a side-look to JJ.

Slowly, Hotch got up, handing the phone to Spencer, who quickly grabbed it and started dialing Dean’s number. Before calling, he looked up at JJ, and then at Hotch.

“I’d like a bit of privacy.”

“No,” Hotch simply responded. “I’m not leaving this room. And you need to put the phone on speaker.”

Spencer took a deep breath, refraining a sigh and licking his lips.

“JJ,” he started, without even looking at her. “Can you please get me a cup of coffee ?”

The agent looked at Hotch, who nodded, and she left the room.

Spencer hit the call button, and put the phone on speaker.

“Don’t say you’re on speaker,” Hotch ordered.

Spencer didn’t answer, waiting for Dean to pick up.

“Spencer,” Dean’s voice exclaimed, rough and tired. “You okay ?”

“Yeah,” Spencer answered, the question burning his tongue. “You ?” he asked first, out of courtesy.

“Could be worse,” the Winchester said. “Cas is back.”

“Back ?” Spencer frowned, looking at the wall in front of him. “What do you mean, back ?”

“Hi Spencer,” Castiel’s voice, even deeper than Dean’s, piped in. “It does appears that I am, in fact, not dead.”

“That- that’s great. I’m glad you’re alive,” Spencer stuttered, before pausing. “How’s Sam ?” he asked, swallowing hard.

The pause.

The fucking pause.

“Is Sam okay ?” he repeated, feeling Hotch’s glare on him. “What happened after he sent me away ?”

“Lucifer took over again,” Dean explained, his voice frail and hesitant. “Sam won in the end. Just as we'd planned.”

“So Lucifer’s out ?” Spencer asked, eyes watering, knowing what it meant, hoping anyway. “And if Lucifer is out than that means that Sam is alri-”

“Don’t do this to yourself, kid. Sam is gone.”

Spencer got up from the hospital bed and started to pace, the phone still in his hand.

“But we can-”

Dean cut him off, raising his voice. :

“Stop. We can’t do anything. We both knew it was gonna end like this.”

Spencer was crying. Tears rolling down his face and hands shaking as he put his hands on his head and pulled on his own hair.

“What am I supposed to do now ?”

Hotch had gotten up as well, alert and worried for his agent.

“Move on,” Dean replied. “Live your life. Go back to being an FBI agent.”

“How can you say that ?” Spencer almost whispered, shaking his head. “He’s your brother-”

“Yeah, and he’s dead,” Dean snapped.

His voice was harsh, filled with hurt and sorrow and grief.

“Cas and I are gonna settle down somewhere nice,” he added. “Get real jobs, go to the grocery store and bond with our neighbors or some shit like that. We gotta move on. And you-”

Spencer ran to the window, opened it and threw the phone across the street before slamming the window shut again.

Hotch approached him carefully.

“Are you okay ?”

He collapsed in his boss’ arms.

Not even two months ago they were hanging out at his place, hopeful for a future made of laughs and kisses, and now Sam was dead.

When had it gone wrong ?

*

When he finally managed to convince Hotch he was okay, Spencer went back to his apartment, wearing clean clothes JJ had brought him at the hospital. It was a nice change after spending two months wearing half-washed button-downs.

His place was a bit dusty. The door had been replaced, after Morgan had kicked it down. Apart from that, it had been left untouched.

Untouched meant that when he walked in the kitchen, he caught sight of his and Sam’s dirty plates from the last night they spent here. They were in the sink, smelling a little and abandoned.

Untouched meant that he found some of Sam’s flannel shirts in his closet, as well as a few of his dirty underwear in the laundry pile.

Untouched meant that Sam’s toothbrush was still laying on the bathroom’s sink, next to his, dry and lonely and useless. Spencer threw it in the trashcan in a second.

Untouched meant that the flat was a constant reminder of how Sam used to live here, as well, even if it was just for a week-end a month. Spencer emptied the beers that were left in the fridge, spilling all of it in the sink, and threw away all the rotten vegetables before ordering a pizza.

When he turned on the TV and Doctor Who appeared on the screen, he changed the channel.

He ate two slices of pizza before he was full. He hadn’t eaten at all at the hospital, but he wasn’t that hungry. He was so, so tired.

Before going to bed, he opened the bag he had brought back from the hospital.

The flannel button-down still had Castiel’s blood all over it and, even though Spencer knew the angel was alright, he couldn’t help but feel a pinch in his chest. You could tell by the smell of the jeans that they were stained with beer and whiskey and, oddly enough, Spencer found some sort of comfort in that smell. His service weapon had been confiscated by Hotch, as well as the blades Sam and Dean had given him. He found an EMF detector in one of the bag’s pocket, smiling a little when he opened it and it started making noise, remembering he lived right next to a telephonic line.

He grabbed the flannel shirt and put it in the bathtub, filling it slowly with cold water and laundry detergent, letting it soak while he changed into his pajamas. When he came back in the bathroom, the bathtub was overflowing with bloody water. He had forgot to turn of the tap.

“Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing a white towel to clean everything.

He knelt on the ground, water still running in the bathtub, drying the floor as it wept getting wet, his wrists hunting from how hard he was wiping the white tiles. In the bathtub, the flannel shirt was floating at the surface, still bloody.

“I made such a mess,” Spencer said, grabbing another towel.

And the water kept running. It kept running until Spencer had used all the towels in his bathroom and his whole bathroom was flooded, as well as a part of his hallway.

He was wiping frantically, but there was just so, so much water, and no matter how much he mopped, no matter how much he cleaned, the water kept outrunning him. It was still red, blood red, until it was literally all just blood, and Spencer was crying, and the flannel shirt was still floating in the bathtub.

“It shouldn’t be that red,” Spencer whispered, running his hands through his hair, covering his face in blood.

*

“I’m just gonna check up on him, alright ?” JJ said as she slammed the door of her car shut, holding her phone to her ear. “He might feel a little lonely, Hotch. I’ll keep you posted.”

When she got to Spencer’s apartment and heard the water running, she thought Spencer was in the shower at first, and winced. There was no point in knocking if he was taking a shower. She shouldn’t have come, this was stupid. Spencer was a grown man, he was probably fine anyway-

Was that a whisper she just heard ?

“It shouldn’t be that red,” Spencer’s voice said, distinctly this time.

JJ frowned, and knocked on her friend’s door.

“Shouldn’t be that red,” Spencer repeated as the key rattled in the lock.

The door opened, revealing a Spencer soaked in water, cheeks covered in dry tears, hair drenched and messy and tangled.

“Are you okay, Spencer ?” JJ asked, tilting her head.

“There’s so much,” Spencer replied, letting her in. “And it’s so red.”

JJ walked to the bathroom, turning the tap off, staring at the flooded room for a few seconds, then turning to Spencer and putting a strand of hair behind her ear, before taking his hand.

“The water’s clear,” she said. “Are you okay ?”

Spencer starred at her for a few seconds, breath trembling, clenching her hand.

“I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Spencer spent the next few weeks living at JJ’s, much for Henry’s pleasure, even though Uncle Spencer was acting a bit odd. He always agreed to play with him, or read to him, or watch movies with him, but it was almost like he wasn’t there sometimes. He slept a lot – more than him, which was weird because he remembered Mom telling him that kids needed more sleep than adults.

But Uncle Spencer was here, and Henry was happy about that, even if Uncle Spencer didn’t seem all that happy recently.

*

Spencer was drowning. There was so much water, it surrounded him, and he couldn’t breathe, and he could barely reach the surface with his pointer finger. A heavy hand was holding him back, from the bottom of the water, clenching to him like one would to a lifeline.

“Let go of my hand,” the hand whispered.

“I can’t,” Spencer cried, his lungs filling with water.

“You can’t save me.”

Spencer was sweating, turning around in his bed.

“I have to try !”

“Let me go, Spence,” the voice was fainter, more distant now.

The long fingers around his wrist loosened, and his owns closed around the big, calloused hand, keeping himself from swimming up.

“Sam !”

“Spencer, wake up.”

“Sam !”

“You can’t save me, it’s too late.”

“SAM !”

“Spencer, you’re alright, please wake up.”

Spencer jerked up, Sam’s name on his lips, sweating, his throat sore from having screamed.

“You’re alright,” JJ repeated, closing her arms around him as he rested his head on her shoulder. “I heard you scream.”

“I had a nightmare,” Spencer muttered, drying the tears on his cheeks.

His pillow was stained with sweat.

“I had figured,” JJ replied.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” Spencer whined, getting away from her embrace. “Is it alright if I go out for the night ?”

JJ frowned, pointing at Spencer’s alarm clock on the bedside table.

“It’s two in the morning,” she remarked.

“Shit, you’re right,” Spencer sighed. “Sorry. I’ll just make myself a cup of coffee-”

JJ helped him get up, for he was a bit dizzy. Once in the kitchen, she handed him a cup of water.

“Drink this first, we’ll see later for the coffee.”

Spencer pinched his lips in an awkward smile before downing the water. JJ stared at him in silence, while he was purposely avoiding her gaze.

“Do you wanna take a drive ?” she asked after a minute, biting her cheek. “We could go and get some McDonald’s.”

“At two in the morning ?” he chuckled in return, finally looking at her.

“Well, now that we’re up…”

Spencer smiled, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

*

After JJ left a note for Will, they both hoped in her car, and she drove them through the city. They didn’t speak until they got to the fast food. JJ ordered some fries, a cheeseburger and a diet coke, and Spencer just asked for a cup of coffee and medium fries.

“Mmh-” Spencer started, eating his fries. “I honestly didn’t think I would enjoy eating McDonald’s at 2am.”

They had parked on the side of the road so that JJ could eat as well.

“Well,” JJ replied, sipping her coke. “I used to drive around when I wasn’t feeling well in college, and I happened to get McDonald’s at night sometimes. It does make things better. So, you know, I figured you could use some.”

“Great life advice,” Spencer chuckled, putting another handful of fries in his mouth.

His hair had dried, but it was messy and sticking up in some places. He was wearing a white shirt, with a flannel button-up above it, and sweatpants. He opened a ketchup wrapper and accidentally spilled some on the flannel shirt, groaning.

“How long has it been since you last washed that shirt, anyway ?” JJ asked. “I see you wearing it all the time.”

“I like it a lot,” Spencer replied defensively. “Actually,” he added after a few seconds, his voice low, “it’s Sam’s. He left it at my place before- well, before- you know…”

JJ nodded.

“You still need to wash it from time to time.”

As Spencer didn’t answer, she went on.

“You can’t stay like this, Spencer,” she said, looking at him.

“I’m fine,” Spencer assured. “I’m doing great, even.”

“You’ve barely been eating.”

Spencer shrugged.

“I don’t do anything, I don’t need to eat that much.”

“You realize that’s part of the problem, right ?”

Spencer stayed silent this time, looking at his cup of coffee.

“Seriously, you’re not even getting out of the house !”

“I’m perfectly content with taking care of Henry and reading my books, thank you,” he retorted dryly.

“When is the last time you took a shower ?” JJ asked, deadpan, crossing her arms.

Spencer looked through the window.

“Did you even brush your teeth this week ?”

“Does it smell that bad ?” Spencer frowned, discreetly smelling his own breath and wincing.

“I know you’re struggling,” JJ started. “And- and I know it’s hard and it’s not your fault- and I don’t blame you. But you need to get back on track. I’m happy to have you home, I really am, and so are Henry and Will. I’d let you stay with us forever if I had to.”

She took a pause.

“But it’s not good for you. You need to live your own life- Gosh, Spencer you deserve to live your own life – and a good one.”

“I lived it,” Spencer replied, cutting her off. “I lived that good life and now it’s gone. It was nice while it lasted, but I… I’m afraid I’ll never live like this again.”

JJ looked at him, clenching her jaw and holding back tears.

“You will, Spencer. I assure you, it will get better-”

“What if I don’t want to ?”

Jj looked away, through the window. 

“Don’t say that. Please, Spencer-”

“I’m holding on, alright I-” Spencer stuttered, sighing. “I can’t move on. Not knowing his death could have been avoided.”

“You never told me how he died,” JJ whispered.

She had wiped the single tear on her face, and was now taking a sip of diet coke.

“He allowed Satan to possess him and jumped in hell to lock him up forever.”

Weird metaphor, JJ thought, not knowing it wasn’t a metaphor.

“Was it…” she started, unsure. “Was it his blood, on your shirt, the day you came back ?”

“Oh, no,” Spencer replied, drinking his coffee. “A friend of ours got- uh- badly injured. He’s fine though, all stitched up, probably screwing Dean somewhere right now.”

Spencer snorted. He missed them.

*

He was reading to Henry, one night, when the kid suddenly said, out of nowhere :

“This shirt is too big for you.”

Spencer laughed. He was sitting on the child's bed, an arm wrapped around him as his other hand was holding the book. Henry was coiled against him, his tiny fingers holding onto said shirt.

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s because it’s not mine.”

As Henry frowned, Spencer went on.

“It was Sam’s shirt, you remember Sam, right ?”

Henry’s face lit up.

“How is Sam ?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him in forever ! I miss him.”

Spencer’s throat tightened.

“I miss him too,” he replied. “Let’s get back to reading, shall we ?”

*

The weeks went by and, with JJ’s and Will’s help, Spencer started getting better.

He ate more, and started getting out of the house, following Will at the grocery store or accompanying JJ and Henry to the park. He was still wearing Sam’s flannels a lot more than what would be considered normal, but at least he washed them every few days now. He – almost – brushed his teeth every day, and he had even gone to the hair dresser to cut his hair. Hotch had joked about him joining a boy band when he tagged along with JJ at work, one day.

“How are you doing ?” Hotch asked once it was just the two of them in his office.

“Good,” Spencer replied. “Better, at least.”

Hotch nodded, sitting on his chair and gesturing for Spencer to sit across his desk.

“Would you agree to join the team again, if I asked you to ?”

“We’ll have you do a psych eval first,” the unit chief added when the young man stayed silent. “And you wouldn’t get your service weapon back. You won’t have to go on the field for some time, and you’d work only half-time.”

Spencer considered for a moment. Maybe getting back to work was the missing piece of his recovery. Maybe the structure and routine of coming to the bureau every day would help him get back on track completely.

“Okay,” he finally answered. “I’ll come back if the psych eval allows me to.”

Hotch smiled.

“But on one condition,” Spencer added after a few seconds.

Hotch stopped smiling, frowning lightly, looking him in the eye as Spencer returned the stare.

“I want you to stop looking for Dean Winchester.”

Hotch clenched his jaw.

“You know I can’t do that.”

Spencer stayed silent, meeting Hotch's eyes defiantly. 

"I let you go out in the world right after you came back, Reid. I could have lost my job for not following the procedure. I should have kept you in custody and interrogated you - but I didn't. I can't fully drop the Winchester investigation as well."

“Then you won’t have me back on the team. Sorry.”

Spencer got up, nodded politely and opened the door. He was about to leave the room when Hotch got up.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll stop looking for Dean Winchester if you pass the psychological evaluation.”

Spencer smiled, his face hidden from Hotch, before putting on a deadpan expression again and turning around.

“One last thing,” he started, taking a deep breath. “If, for whatever reason, Sam Winchester were to appear again,” he tried to control his voice so that it wouldn’t tremble too much. “You have to leave him alone.”

Hotch pinched his lips.

“Okay,” he answered.

And Spencer left.

*

He was back at his apartment now. The psych eval had been conclusive : he was stable enough to get back to work, and so he did, slowly reintegrating the team. It was late July when he started working full-time again (he still wasn’t allowed on the field but, well, he actually didn’t mind that much).

He came back from a case worn and tired that night, and opened the fridge of his apartment, craving a beer, somehow. Maybe was Hotch half-right about the Winchesters having a bad influence on him. He grabbed a Caprisun instead, because there for sure was no beer in Spencer Reid’s fridge.

It had been a little over a week since he had moved in back in his flat, and already the living room was a bit messy : books everywhere, some sweater-vests hanging on the couch, an omnipresent smell of coffee.

It was starting to feel like home again.

He got his phone out of his messenger bag ; he had bought a new one when started working again. He remembered one of Dean’s phone number, and he had intended on using it since he had made that deal with Hotch.

“Hello ?” Dean’s voice said on the other end. “Who’s this ?”

“Hi Dean, uh, it’s Spencer. Remember me ?”

“Are you alright ?” Dean instantly asked. “We’ve been trying to join you for months !”

“Sorry,” Spencer winced. “I, uhm, I was a little upset the last time we talked,” Spencer admitted, recalling their phone call in the hospital. “I threw the phone by the window and I just got a new one.”

Well, it had been a while since he had bought the phone, but Dean didn’t need to know that.

“Glad to know you’re alive,” Dean replied. “What’s up ? Why are you calling ?”

“Well, I’m back to work,” Spencer nodded. “It’s been a rough couple of months but, overall, I’m okay.”

“That makes the both of us.” Dean responded. “Cas has been helping me get better.”

“I’m sure he did,” Spencer smiled. “Actually, I was calling to share good news.”

There was a pause, and Spencer went on.

“I made a deal with my boss. I’d come back on the team if he agreed to stop investigating you. So, you’re a free man. You and Castiel could settle in somewhere calm and live a decent life.”

“Wow,” Dean chuckled. “Does that mean I can stop hiding my face every time I pass a security camera ?”

“Yeah,” Spencer laughed back. “You can also start using your real name on administrative papers, get a real credit card, a job… You can do pretty much everything a normal civilian would.”

He could hear Dean’s smile through his rough voice.

“Thank you man. I mean, you didn’t have to do this. That’s pretty nice.”

“Well, you Sam and Cas did keep me alive for those two months we spent hunting together. Take it as a way to repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Thank you, Spencer. Really. Wait, is that even possible ? Like, is that legal ? I'm pretty sure the FBI can't just ignore such a big case like mine.”

“Apparently they can, and they did," Spencer shrugged. "I, uhm, I also asked my boss to let Sam be, if he ever showed up again, just so you know.”

There was a long silence, until Dean clicked his tongue.

“You know he won’t show up again, right ?”

Spencer pinched his lips and closed his eyes. He had hoped they had found a way, and that Sam was just hiding somewhere, or-

“Yeah,” he replied, voice trembling. “I know. But, just in case. You never know what might happen.”

“Thank you again Spencer,” Dean concluded. “Cas says hi by the way.”

“Tell him I say hi as well,” Spencer chuckled, wiping the tear at the corner of his eye.

“And, uh, kid,” Dean added before hanging up. “If there’s anything you need… Guns, information, a place to stay or a friend to share a beer with… Give me a call, alright ?”

“Thank you,” Spencer replied. “Bye Dean.”

And he hung up.

Chapter Text

Somewhere in Massachusetts, a calm and completely ordinary neighborhood was getting warm under the August sun. Children were playing in the pretty houses’ yards, some parents were mowing the lawn and others were reading the newspapers, sitting on their porch.

As two middle-aged women passed the new neighbors’ house, they saw exactly these two things : A blonde, shirtless, fairly attractive man mowing the lawn, the sunrays reflecting on his skin, and another man – as handsome as the other, if not prettier – with dark hair and a plain grey t-shirt, was sitting on their porch, newspapers in hands.

The two women looked at each-other, pinching their lips.

“So these are the new neighbors,” one of them whispered excitedly.

“I’ve heard that no one has talked to them yet,” the other one replied. “It’s a shame no one was polite enough to invite them to tonight’s barbecue.”

“They are quite intimidating, though,” the first one countered. “And they haven’t introduced themselves yet.”

“Maybe they are just shy ?”

The first one laughed just as they realized it had been a little while since they had stopped walking, and the blonde man was frowning at them.

“I’m going to invite them,” the second woman decided, stepping closer to the fence separating them from the mysterious new neighbors.

As she did, the blonde man stopped his lawn-mower, wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm.

“Can I help you there, ladies ?” he asked, squinting at the sun.

“Hi,” the woman smiled. “I’m Mrs Adams, I live just across the street and me and my friend-” she gestured over to the other woman “-couldn’t help but notice you were new in town ?”

The man seemed to relax, and returned her smile.

“Oh, yeah- Sorry, we haven’t introduced ourselves yet,” he reached for her hand over the fence and they exchanged a handshake. “Dean Winchester, glad to meet you.”

“My pleasure,” Mrs Adams replied. “Well, you see, there’s a barbecue tonight, at my house, and we were wondering if you and your friend would like to join us ? The whole neighborhood will be there, it would be a great occasion to meet everyone !”

Dean Winchester nodded, clapping once and wiping his hands.

“Well, we’ll be happy to come. Thanks for the invitation, Mrs Adams.”

*

Later that day, Mrs Adams told a few people how she invited the new neighbors to the barbecue, and these people told other people, who then told other people, until the whole neighborhood (which consisted of a little over a dozen families) knew that the new neighbors – who were frankly starting to appear like social outcasts – were going to be there.

“It’s seven and they still aren’t here,” Mr Adams whispered to his wife.

“Don’t worry,” Mrs Adam replied confidently. “They’ll come, I’m sure of it.”

The doorbell rang, and she rose her eyebrows, as to prove her point.

Mr Winchester and his friend were at the door, smiling, and the dark-haired man was holding a pack of beers.

“Mr Winchester !” Mrs Adams exclaimed. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Oh, please, call me Dean,” Dean replied, showing his teeth in a wide smile and gently shoving the dark-haired man.

“Uhm, uh, g-good evening,” the other man said, smiling awkwardly. “I’m Castiel. We, uh, we brought some beer.”

He gestured towards the pack, waiting for Mrs Adams reaction. She smiled.

“Oh, there was no need to bring anything ! I’ll put it in the kitchen,” she then added as Castiel handed her the beers. “Just go join everyone in the backyard !”

They did as they were told and, on the way to the backyard, Dean whispered :

“Relax a little, you look like something is stuck up your ass.”

“It isn’t funny, Dean,” Castiel replied. “You know I’m not good with people.”

“Just be yourself,” Dean concluded, patting him on the shoulder as they got outside, where people were sitting in little groups, or standing up, speaking to each-other, smiling and laughing and trading the latest news.

Some eyes turned to them, and Dean waved enthusiastically at several people while Castiel just stood there, trying to relax. No one came to talk to them for a few minutes, and Castiel bent towards Dean :

“I must be scaring them off,”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean replied. “They don’t know us, it’s up to us to introduce ourselves.”

Mrs Adams came back from the kitchen, and they turned to her almost in perfect sync as she passed them, calling over her shoulder:

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”

*

They spent a good evening, talking with everyone – mostly listening to their new neighbors rather than talking themselves, but it still counted as conversation, right ?

“You haven’t told us anything about yourselves !” Mrs Adams said at one point, as they were sitting on plastic chairs in a corner of the backyard, along with Mr Adams and two other couples, cardboard plates in their hands, eating grilled meat and cold pasta.

“Well,” Dean started, swallowing the food he had in his mouth. “There isn’t much to tell, really. We’ve been looking for a place to settle in, and this neighborhood just seemed like the perfect place, right Cas ?”

He turned to the dark-haired man, who hadn’t touched his food.

“Yeah,” Castiel approved, nodding. “The… perfect place, exactly,” he repeated.

“Are you vegetarian ?” Mrs Adams asked, frowning, worried. “You haven’t eaten anything.”

“Oh, no,” Castiel replied, “I just don’t eat.”

Everyone in the small circle stared at him for a few seconds, before Dean chuckled :

“Much. He doesn’t eat much, that’s what he meant. To be completely honest, we may have eaten a bit before coming.”
Castiel swallowed his saliva, smiling.

“I was starting to get worried,” a woman said – Mrs Chapman, if Dean remembered correctly. “I mean, a charming man like you, not eating… I was wondering if something was wrong with the food.”

As some laughed, Dean added :

“He’s a true angel, isn’t he ?”

Everyone agreed, and Mrs Adams started asking questions again.

“So, Dean and Castiel. What do you do in life ?”

“You mean a job ?” Castiel asked in return.

“Uh, yeah,” Mrs Adams replied, a bit surprised by this question.

“Well,” Dean said before Castiel could say any other weird things. “I used to work with my dad until he died a few years ago-”

“Ah, I’m sorry man,” Mr Adams piped in, eating a mouthful of pasta. “What did your dad work as ?”

“Nah, don’t be,” Dean retorted. “Never liked the bastard anyway.” A few raised their eyebrows at that, not interrupting. “And he, uh…”

“He was a hunter,” Castiel replied instead, looking at Dean proudly.

“Is that even a real job ?” Mrs Chapman asked. “Like, did he get paid for hunting ?”

“No,” Castiel went on, bending over a little, happy to be part of the conversation. “He did credit card scams and won money in pool tournaments, as you do.”

Silence fell on the group, until Dean – once again – saved the situation by laughing.

“My friend Cas over here loves jokes. Of course he didn’t get paid for hunting, but he worked as a wildlife ranger for most of his life. He raised me and my brother on the road, picking up jobs where he could. When we didn’t get hired as rangers we would be bartenders or cashiers…”

“So you’re brothers then ?” Mr Fowler – from the third couple – asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Oh, no,” Castiel interrupted. “His brother died recently. He’s been in hell for a month or so now.”

Dean slowly turned to him, deadpan, clenching his teeth.

“What ?” the dark-haired man asked, confused.

Dean blinked, pinched his lips, took a deep breath, and turned to the other three couples, smiling.

“Would you excuse us for a second, please ?”

He didn’t wait for an answer and got up, grabbing Castiel on the way and forcing him to enter the house.

“What did I do wrong ?” Castiel asked, frowning.

“Everything,” Dean answered, nodding and raising his eyebrows. “We’re supposed to be regular civilians, alright ? So no hunting, no credit card scams, and no hell, got it ?”

“Okay, got it,” Castiel nodded, looking at the floor. “What do I do if they ask me about my father ?”

Dean shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he whispered angrily. “Just… Don’t say he’s God !”

At this exact moment, Mrs Adams came inside.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, wincing. “I just hope everything is alright ?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Castiel replied, and Dean panicked internally, waiting for him to say something that would have them leave this town forever. “I was out of line here, and Dean was just reminding me that not everyone has the same humor as me.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, impressed, and they went back outside.

“Sorry for sooner,” Castiel said as he sat on his chair. “My jokes were… misplaced.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it, man,” Mr Adams said, waving a hand in front of him. “Tell us a bit about you, Castiel. Was your dad also a hunter who did credit card scams ?” he joked, making others chuckle as well.

“My father left when I was a child,” Castiel simply replied. “It was just me and my brothers, growing up. We’ve been looking for him since, roaming the earth, praying every day. Some of my older brothers have the highest respect for him while others, well… Some didn’t always agree with him. He banished one of them from our home because of some bad joke and, well, they basically hate each other now.”

“That’s funny,” Mr Chapman said, stirring the food in his plate. “It kind of sounds how God banished Lucifer from heaven.”

“Except my father is not God,” Castiel replied dryly. “Not at all.”

He then looked at Dean, who nodded to confirm he had done a good job. Maybe overshared a little, Dean thought.

“Well,” Mrs Adams said, changing the topic back to jobs. “What do you both do now ?”

“I’m a mechanic,” Dean answered – which was true.

“And I work in a library,” Castiel added – which was also true.

They all talked about their jobs for a little while, and Mrs Adams smiled while asking the next question :

“I can’t help but notice the ring on your finger, Dean,” she started, trying not to come off as rude. “Who’s the lucky girl ?”

“She’s absolutely fantastic,” Dean replied, refraining a laugh. “An angel, really.”

“When will we have the chance to meet her, then ?” Mr Adams asked.

Castiel shifted in his seat, a bit uncomfortable.

“You kind of already did,” Dean winced.

“I don’t remember her,” Mrs Fowler said, thinking.

Dean couldn’t hold it any longer and laughed, soon joined by Castiel.

“Sorry, I’ve been lying to you guys,” he said when they all started to look at the both of them, confused. “There is no Mrs Winchester, I’m sure of it.”

As Mrs Adams opened her mouth to speak, Castiel raised his hand to show off the silver ring around his finger.

“I hadn’t told you my last name before,” the angel said, putting his hand on top of Dean’s, who was holding the armrest of his chair. “I’m Castiel Winchester.”

“We got married shortly after my brother’s death,” Dean explained. “We realized life is short and… we didn’t want to waste any more time.”

No one said anything for a few seconds, and Castiel bit his lip anxiously, slowly taking his hand off of Dean’s.

“Although this is… unusual… You’re a great match,” Mrs Fowler finally said.

“Yeah, congrats guys,” Mr Adams added.

“Don’t worry, there’s all kind of people here,” Mr Chapman followed. “I mean, our teenage daughter recently told us she was a lesbian,” he went on, whispering. “It’s probably just a phase but, you know-”

“Ron, that’s offensive,” Mrs Chapman cut him off.

“I’m a little surprised,” Mr Fowler piped in, swallowing his saliva. “But I don’t mind, as long as I’m not, you know, involved in any of this-”

Mrs Adams rattled her throat.

“What we are all trying to say is that you’re both welcome here.”

Dean and Castiel smiled, thinking the same thing :

That they loved this life. And that Sam and Spencer would love it as well.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this isn’t dangerous ?” Dean asked for what seemed like the billionth time to Castiel.

“Yes, Dean, I am,” the angel sighed. “I know exactly what I have to do, how to do it, and what the outcome will be.”

Dean nodded, nervous. What if this didn’t work ? What if they had done all this research, and spent so much time planning this, and asked help from so many other angels – including Gabriel ('don't forget his soul, or else it will be a huge mess to get it back, alright ?') – all for nothing ?

“Bring him back,” Dean said after a moment, pressing a kiss on Castiel’s lips. “And be careful.”

Castiel smiled and disappeared in a blink.

*

Spencer was at home that night. He had just gotten back from another case. Summer was almost ending, and he was glad, because fall meant sweater vests, red and crunchy dead leaves, new specials at his favorite coffee shop and, finally, fall reminded him of Sam.

They had met in October, on that case in Florida, and they did get closer after that summer Sam spent in Quantico. You could argue that the fall of 2010 was when they fell in love with one another, even though they only started dating during the winter.

Yeah, fall reminded him of Sam, and when he came back from work that day he traded his work shirt to put on a flannel, ordering a pizza and eating quietly.

He had just finished his pizza when his phone rang, displaying Dean’s phone number, and Spencer picked up excitedly : he always was excited to hear news from him and Castiel.

“Hi Dean, is everything okay ?” he asked, because with the Winchesters, you never knew.

“Yeah, we’re fine, thank you. Listen, there’s something Cas and I need to tell you.”

Spencer frowned. He knew they had gotten married and had moved in a house in Massachusetts, that they had gotten proper jobs and were settling in nicely. They exchanged news every few weeks, making sure everyone was okay.

“I’m listening.”

“Before you say anything,” Castiel piped in, a bit more distant than Dean, “I want to clarify that the reason we didn’t tell you sooner is because we didn’t want to get your hopes up in case we failed.”

“What’s going on guys ?” Spencer asked, confused.

“We’re in Quantico right now,” Dean replied. “We’re staying at a hotel for the night and that’s because we found a way to-”

Spencer’s doorbell rang, cutting Dean off, and Spencer muttered “one second” to Dean before going to open the door. He could hear Dean was still talking on the phone, but he had lowered it from his ear and couldn’t actually understand what he was saying.

“Hi Spencer.”

Spencer looked at the man standing on his doorway. He had long brown hair and was a bit taller than him, with greenish tired eyes and a soft smile.

“I’ll call you back,” Spencer said to Dean before hanging up.

None of them spoke for a second, until the man asked :

“How are you ?”

Spencer didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the door.

Why was Sam Winchester at his door, when he was supposed to be dead for over three months ?

He grabbed the little flask on one of his bookshelves, along with a silver blade he kept hidden between two Hemingway books, and opened the door again.

“Spencer I-”

Sam was interrupted by holy water splashing his face and a quick burn on his arm, where Spencer had just cut him with a silver blade.

“Ouch !” the hunter protested, holding the cut.

“Sam,” Spencer finally said after a few seconds of starring.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled in return. “Wasn’t Dean supposed to give you a heads up about this ?”

Spencer swallowed hard.

“I was just on the phone with him. I- How-”

“Castiel found a way to bring me back while still leaving Lucifer and Michael in the cage. He did a pretty good job, right ?”

He opened his arms wide, as to display himself, whole and unharmed – well, except for the fresh cut on his arm.

“Do you have a first-aid kit ?” Sam asked. “I wouldn’t want this to get infected.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Spencer replied, still overwhelmed. “Come inside.”

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Sam was pinned against it, Spencer’s lips on his, Spencer’s hands holding onto his shoulders. Sam’s fingers were running through Spencer’s hair, and he was the one to break up the kiss.

“I’d really appreciate it if we could take care of this” he gestured at his arm “first, if you don’t mind.”

Spencer blinked, licking his lips.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, come on, I’ll fix you up.”

*

They were sitting on the couch, Spencer cleaning the cut while Sam stared at him, smiling. The whole thing felt like a dream.

“The haircut suits you,” the hunter said after a while, and Spencer chuckled.

“I needed change,” he replied, shrugging, putting a bandage around Sam’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he then added. “I’m not even sure this is real.”

“It is,” Sam replied, bending over to kiss Spencer. “And I’m glad I’m here too.”

They laughed, and Spencer leaned into the kiss, pushing Sam a little so they would both lie on the couch, the scissors and roll of bandage left on the floor.

“I missed you so much,” Spencer said between two kisses, taking a gasp of air.

As he tasted salted tears along with their saliva, Sam realized Spencer was crying.

“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Three months,” Spencer cried, kissing him again. “You don’t know how long three months feels like when you’re not around.”

Sam smiled sadly.

“Imagine how I must have felt spending thirty years away from you then.”

Spencer sat back on the couch, his face decomposing.

“What ?”

“Yeah,” Sam started, rattling his voice. “Time passes differently down there.”

“I’m here complaining to you while you just came back from thirty years of literal hell.”

Sam chuckled, cradling Spencer’s face with his hands.

“It's not a competition. We’re both here now,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

Spencer leaned in to kiss him again, and he was on top of Sam, and he started rocking his hips a little because, god, Sam was here and he had forgotten this feeling that would make his heart pump faster and his pants get tighter, and the friction was just-

“No,” Sam protested weakly, breaking the kiss and rolling over from under him, falling off of the couch in result. “Nope, I can’t.”

Spencer sat down, worried, his pants feeling loose again.

“What’s wrong ?” he asked.

He didn’t get it. Sam had always been on board with this, and it had been three months – thirty years for Sam ! – since they had seen each other, and-

“I- I just can’t,” Sam repeated. “I’m a bit tired,” he then added after a few seconds of silence. “Do you mind if I sleep here on the couch ?”

Spencer frowned, mouth slightly open, choosing his next words carefully :

“Just because you don’t want us to have sex doesn’t mean I won’t allow you to sleep in my bed.”

“I know,” Sam sighed, putting a hand on his face. “I-” His voice broke for a second. “I’d feel more comfortable sleeping alone, actually.”

Spencer felt his heart shatter. Well, after thirty years, maybe Sam had realized he didn’t love Spencer, and just kind of liked hanging out with him. Or maybe he had gone too fast, trying to initiate sex when Sam was still confused about being back on earth ?

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” Spencer asserted, his voice getting high-pitched. “Sleep in my bed, we’ll figure this out tomorrow, alright ?”

Sam nodded and, just before getting in Spencer’s bed, Sam went to the living-room with the intent to kiss him goodnight. But Spencer was already lying on the couch, and when Sam said :

“Good night.”

Spencer didn’t even turn around to look at him, simply replying :

“ ‘night.”

*

Spencer wasn’t even asleep yet when Sam started screaming. He got up faster than he had in a long time, knocking over a cup on the table on his way to the room, glass shattering on the floor as he barged into his own room, to find Sam half-awake, screaming and debating with an invisible force in the bed.

Spencer got to him quickly, taking his hand, but Sam kept moving and trying to hit him, somehow.

“Sam, it’s me ! It’s Spencer !” the FBI agent shouted to cover Sam’s screams, trying to immobilize one of his arms.

But Sam was too fast, too strong for him and, even in that state of vague unconsciousness, the hunter managed to punch him in the jaw.

Spencer winced as he tasted blood. He didn’t give up, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and holding him down on the bed.

“Get off of me !”

“Sam it’s Spencer, calm down !”

“Get off of me !” Sam kept repeating. “Get off of me ! Get off ! Get off !”

His voice was breaking more and more every time, until the words were indiscernible and turned into strangled sobs, like Sam was trying to silence himself.

Spencer carefully loosened his grip once Sam stopped floundering, and whispered :

“Sam, you’re safe, it’s Spencer.”

He stroked his cheek gently, and the hunter flinched under the touch, finally waking up completely. He sat up and clenched his teeth.

“Get out.”

Spencer frowned.

“Are you okay ?” he asked softly.

“J-” Sam started, looking everywhere but at Spencer. “Just get out.”

Spencer bit his lips.

“You know,” he said at the last second, right before closing the door. “I’m glad you’re back – I really am. But that’s a pretty shitty reunion.”

*

“You told him WHAT ?”

“I know !” Spencer whispered into his phone, standing in front of his apartment.

He had called JJ as soon as he had gotten back to the living room and, when she had picked up, he had got out so that Sam wouldn’t hear him.

“So,” JJ started. “Your boyfriend came back from a horrible place, tells you he needs some space and privacy, has obviously been through some heavily traumatic events, and you tell him that this is a pretty shitty reunion ?”

“I was hurt,” Spencer explained, sitting against the hallway’s hall. “I was hurt and confused and now I feel guilty.”

“You know that this has probably nothing to do with you, right ?” JJ went on. “What happened to him is the reason why he’s behaving like this, he’s not rejecting you or doesn’t love you anymore ; if anything, he needs you, Spencer. And you better be here for him,” she added. “This isn’t about you. I get that the way he acts is hurting you because you want the two of you to be together like nothing happened, and erase those three months from your memory, but it won’t happen.”

Spencer nodded, even though JJ couldn’t see him.

“I want him to feel safe again,” he replied.

“Be patient,” JJ instructed. “Listen to him, try to understand him. And don’t make it all about yourself, alright ?”

“Yeah,” Spencer chuckled. “I’ll just call you if I need to complain about something.”

“You do that,” JJ laughed. “Now go get some sleep.”

*

When Sam woke up the next morning, he was almost more tired than when he had gone to bed.

That’s a pretty shitty reunion.

It had felt like a knife in his stomach coming from someone he had been longing to hug. He needed to get himself together before Spencer got tired of his whines and weaknesses. He tip-toed his way to the kitchen, in case Spencer was still asleep-

“Be careful,” the object of his thoughts said as he entered the living room. “I dropped a cup on the floor last night. I cleaned it,” he quickly added, “but, you know, just in case…”

Sam nodded, walking slowly, not knowing what to say. Spencer didn’t seem mad at him.

“I, uh,” Spencer spoke again, going in the kitchen. “I made you breakfast ?”

He came back with a pan full of scrambled eggs.

“I was going to do some bacon as well, and then I remembered you prefer not to eat meat, so…”

He put the eggs in a plate he had set down earlier, and gestured for Sam to sit down.

“Thanks,” Sam said quietly.

“Would you like some orange juice as well ?” Spencer asked, getting some juice from the fridge, as well as a glass.

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

Spencer poured him some orange juice while Sam started eating his eggs. They stayed silent until he had finished and Spencer put his plate in the dishwasher.

“I have to go to work in ten minutes,” Spencer told him. “Just remember to lock the door if you go out, and you can use whatever is in the fridge to make lunch.”

“Oh, it’s not necessary,” Sam replied, getting up. “I’ll probably just go over to Dean’s hotel room.”

“You can stay here as long as you want, Sam,” Spencer insisted. “You don’t have to, of course but… You’re welcome here, alright ?”

Sam nodded.

“Alright.”

Right before Spencer left for work, Sam followed him to his doorway.

“Have a nice day,” he said, and Spencer smiled, studying him for a moment. “What ?” he added.

“Can I-” Spencer started before cutting himself off. “I mean, I don’t know if you’d be comfortable… Well-”

“What is it ?” Sam chuckled, starting to tense.

“Can I kiss you ?”

Sam relaxed. It made sense that Spencer would ask, after what had happened the night before, but Sam still felt like he had let him down somehow, to the point where Spencer wasn’t even sure he was allowed to kiss him.

“Yeah,” Sam replied in a breath. “Yeah, of course.”

They both leaned in, Sam putting his hands on Spencer’s neck and Spencer running his hands through Sam’s hair.

“See you tonight,” Spencer said before finally leaving, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

It went like this for a week. Spencer would wake up before Sam, make him breakfast, and then leave for work. Sam would spend his day at Spencer’s apartment, sometimes going on a walk or taking a cab to Dean and Castiel’s hotel. When Spencer would come back in the evening, they would eat and hang out on the couch, sitting next to one another, before Sam would get tired and go sleep in Spencer’s room while Spencer slept on the couch.

It was Friday night, and Spencer had his week end off. So he called Dean, and asked him and Castiel to come over that night and have dinner with Sam and him.

“Well, when I meant dinner,” Spencer clarified once they got there, “I meant that I could order the four of us some food. I can’t actually cook.”

“That’s true,” Sam added. “I think even Castiel could do a better job at cooking than Spencer.”

“I’ll let you know,” Castiel started, raising his eyebrows. “That I have improved my cooking skills in the last months.”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “I can’t even count the number of recipe blogs he reads.”

They laughed, and Sam and Spencer glanced at each other. After ordering sushi (they had decided based on the fact that Castiel had never had sushi before, and that watching him try to eat with chopsticks would be quite the entertainment), Spencer gave everyone a beer, and they started to talk about Dean and Castiel’s new life in Massachusetts.

“I’m starting to get a hold of most human etiquette,” Castiel explained proudly. “For example : instead of wearing a bell around my neck like Dean had suggested –” Dean snickered “– I learned to make my steps louder, so that I would stop startling customers at the library.”

*

“Well,” Dean replied when Sam asked how long they were going to stay in Quantico. “We need to go back to Massachusetts tomorrow. My job just called to ask if I was still sick, and I promised I’d be there on Monday, so…”

Sam nodded quietly.

Once the Winchester husbands went back to their hotel, Spencer gently took Sam by the waist and kissed him.

“Are you going to be okay ?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, resting his head on Spencer’s shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I be ?”

“You still have nightmares.”

Sam took a step back, going around the table to finish cleaning it.

“Well,” he chuckled. “I don’t think these will ever go away, to be honest.”

“Do you want me to take some time off ?”

Sam stopped in his movement, some glasses still in his hand.

“What ? No, no of course not. I’ll be just fine.”

Spencer starred at him for a few seconds before saying :

“You know that you can tell me everything, right ?”

Sam nodded quickly before disappearing in the kitchen to dispose of the cups.

When he came back, Spencer was about to speak again, but he shut him up with a kiss, and brought him to the bedroom, pulling at his tie. He pushed Spencer on the bed and sat on his lap, facing him and spreading his legs outside Spencer’s.

“Hey-” Spencer interrupted their kiss when Sam started to tug at his shirt. “You may want to slow down a little.”

“Why ?” Sam asked, kissing him again. “Don’t you want to… ?”

“Yeah, no, I absolutely want to,” Spencer replied, and Sam took the FBI agent’s shirt off. “This isn’t about what I want, but rather about what you feel comfortable with-”

Sam cut him off, kissing him again and unbuttoning Spencer’s pants.

“I’m gonna make it good for you,” the Winchester whispered, sliding a hand in Spencer’s boxers.

“Are you sure you- aah,” Spencer moaned, throwing his head back.

Sam started running his fingers up and down Spencer’s dick, and Spencer couldn’t help but moan, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

When he opened them again, in hopes he would mean Sam’s gaze, his view was completely different. Sam’s had this weird look. His eyes were empty, hollow, looking far away but not farther than his lashes at the same time.

“Sam ?” Spencer asked, confused, as Sam’s hands were still working him up.

Sam didn’t answer, and kept going, that same look in his glazed eyes, like he wasn’t even here.

“Sam !” Spencer repeated, getting up, pushing him away gently.

The Winchester seemed to break out of it, and Spencer tilted his head.

“Are you okay ?”

Sam blinked, nodding, his throat getting tight and Spencer, after buttoning his pants, opened his arms for Sam to fall in.

“I’m sorry I can’t-”

“No,” Spencer interrupted him softly, hugging him tight as Sam was clenching his shoulders. “Don’t apologize. We don’t need to have sex for us to be a couple. I mean, if you still want us to be one ?”

Sam nodded against Spencer’s neck. He was sobbing, and apologizing over and over again as Spencer reassured him, stroking his back gently. Sam was so broken he wasn’t even sure he could fix him, now or ever.

He slept once again on the couch that night.

*

The days and the weeks went by. Spencer went to work, Sam stayed home, drinking tons of coffee to compensate the fact that Spencer didn’t have any beer, reading Spencer’s books and catching up on Doctor Who. The hunter still woke up all sweaty and agitated during the night, not screaming as much as during the first week, but still yelling out names and “no” and other heart-wrenching things to Spencer.

The FBI agent kept hoping Sam would get better. He was leaving him space, letting him accommodate at his house, making him breakfast and buying more and more coffee. He tried to get him out of the house as much as possible on his days off, going to the coffee shop they used to go to (their coffee shop, as he liked to call it) or to the library.

But Sam was still sleeping alone and screaming at night, flinching when someone would move too fast and too close to him, talked very little even to Spencer.

And it was breaking Spencer’s heart to see him like this.

*

Spencer had gone back to the living room, sleeping on the couch as usual. His back was slowly starting to hurt as the day passed, but he wanted Sam to feel safe. When Sam woke up screaming once again that night, Spencer rushed into his bedroom and calmed him down, like he would always do. But this time, instead of watching him get out of the room in silence, Sam spoke weakly :

“Would you stay for a little while ?”

Spencer turned around, blinking.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah, of course.”

He sat down on the bed and Sam snuggled against him, so Spencer held him for a few minutes, in silence.

“When I was in hell,” Sam started, not moving from Spencer’s embrace, “Lucifer got bored after a year of two. Calling me names and bickering with Michael wasn’t enough to keep him distracted and, after a while, hitting me had become boring too.”

Spencer stayed silent, stroking his shoulder gently, listening with attention.

“He, um…” Sam hesitated before going on. “He started doing… other things, to entertain himself. He tried with Adam at first, but Michael wouldn’t let him go near the kid – I think he developed quite a fondness for him. When Lucifer understood he wouldn’t get to Adam, well, he kept his focus on me.”

Spencer bit his cheek not to scream.

“He played with only his hands for, what, ten years ?” Sam went on, his voice turning into a whisper. “And then he- you know.”

Spencer nodded. He wanted to hit something. Or to go for a run – and God knew Spencer hated running. He wanted to shout and throw a chair and punch the wall. He wanted to go to hell and destroy Lucifer himself – even though he knew he wouldn’t do as much as poking the guy before he would get killed.

“I guess that’s why I’ve been struggling with intimacy,” Sam finished, voice trembling.

And Spencer held him tighter.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he whispered, holding back tears. “But I’m here now.”

“Please stay,” Sam muttered, kissing him lazily and grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him towards him.

Spencer slipped under the covers, and Sam clutched to him.

Long after the hunter was asleep, Spencer murmured :

“I’ll always stay.”

*

2 years later

The BAU had just gotten back from a case. The whole team was tired and worn out, but SSA David Rossi knew just what to say to put a smile on everyone’s faces :

“Dinner at my place,” the agent exclaimed, smiling. “I’m expecting all of you at 8pm, don’t be late,” he added, putting an emphasis on the last three words.

Spencer exited the building shortly after. He wanted to at least see Sam before he got to Rossi’s.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Spencer turned around, his messenger bag at his side. Rossi was catching up, walking quickly until he was next to him.

“I talked with Hotch,” he started, and Spencer frowned. “Apparently, I’m not the only one who wants to meet your boyfriend.”

Spencer pinched his lips. Everyone at the BAU knew Sam was living with him (JJ was to blame for that : she had told Emily, who had then told Morgan, who had told Garcia, who had next told Rossi, who had finally told Hotch – he should have seen it coming, really), and it wasn’t the first time he was being teased about the curious fascination everyone at the BAU had for Sam Winchester.

“Well, technically,” Spencer replied. “Some of you have already met him-”

“But none of us have been properly introduced,” Rossi insisted. “I promise we won’t make it awkward.”

Spencer considered for a second.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll offer him to come. But if he refuses, I won’t push it,” he warned, starring at Rossi.

“See you both at eight,” Rossi said with a smirk before leaving to his car while Spencer walked to the nearest subway line.

*

“Aren’t they gonna arrest me ?”

Spencer was just finishing getting ready, and Sam was already fully dressed up.

“They won’t,” Spencer reassured him. “They all promised, like, two years ago – Garcia deleted all the files that existed on you and Dean, and Hotch made arrangements. Plus, they trust me not to date a murderer. You’ll be fine.”

The hunter was wearing a black button-up shirt with simple jeans, and Spencer noticed that he had combed his hair a bit better than he usually did.

They took Spencer’s car and drove in silence to Rossi’s house, parking in front of the luxurious mansion, next to all of Spencer’s colleagues’ cars.

“I don’t want to mess it up,” Sam blurted out as they were about to get out of the car.

“You won’t,” Spencer assured. “They’ll love you.”

They walked up to the door, and Sam turned to him.

“They all think I’m a either a psychopath or a paranoid schizophrenic with religious psychosis and severe anger management issues.”

“You did have anger issues when I met you,” Spencer shrugged.

Sam took a deep breath and bit his cheeks, anxiously looking up.

“Hey,” Spencer said after ringing the bell. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Sam exhaled loudly.

“I know.” He looked at Spencer, and leaned in to press a quick kiss on his lips. “I know,” he repeated, nodding.

The door opened, and Rossi appeared, a wide smile on his face.

“Ah !” the Italian man exclaimed. “We were waiting for you ! Come on in !”

*

“You were right,” Sam said as they got back to Spencer’s apartment. “They did love me.”

“See,” Spencer replied, taking his jacket off and hanging it on the back of a chair. “I told you they were not inviting you to arrest you.”

Sam laughed lightly.

“They didn’t ask a lot of questions either,” Sam added, taking his shoes off. “You’ve got great colleagues.”

“Friends,” Spencer corrected. “I’ve got great friends.”

Sam walked up to him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“And you’ve got me.”

“Yeah,” Spencer chuckled. “Of course, Mr. Jealous.”

Sam kissed him, bringing the both of them to their room.

“I like your place,” Sam said once they had both slipped under the cover.

“Yeah ?” Spencer laughed. “Why ?”

Sam shrugged, looking around.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “It feels safe. It’s like I’m at war and I just found a shelter to rest for a little while.”

Spencer turned to him, smiling, getting a strand of hair out of Sam’s face and kissing his jaw.

“Except the only thing I’m fighting against is myself,” Sam went on.

“You’ll win,” Spencer whispered, kissing him again, on the lips this time. “You’re already gaining land- it will take some time to win the whole war, but every single day is a won battle.”

He cupped the hunter’s face in one hand, the other resting on his chest.

“I know,” Sam replied, leaning into the touch. “This place feels like home.”

“Shelter or home ?” Spencer asked jokingly. “It can’t be both.”

“I think it can,” Sam replied. “And I think it is.”