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Pretty Boy	By : Wagamama_hime Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 4813 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS Corporation. This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit from its publication.

Chapter List
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Chapter Twelve
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS corporation. This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit from its publication.
A/N: Hi everyone! It seems this 'Criminal Minds Wednesday' update thing is becoming quite a habit ;p. New episode and new chapter, yay! :D As always, thank you for the reviews & favorites! They mean so much! I really loved writing this story and hearing from all of you over the last few months! So please keep it up! Super big shout-out to my beta, Eskimita, for all her help as well :).
I also wanted to let you know that we've reached the beginning of the end! Here's where everything (sort of?) culminates. I tried really hard to make sure I tied up all the loose ends, and it gave me a real great appreciation for people who write thrillers/mysteries because it actually takes a lot of work & due-diligence to do that. So if I missed something, please forgive me D: And I had a lot of logistical s#$% to cover, so this isn't going to be a very relationship-y chapter for Morgan & Reid. This chapter is about getting down to business, lol. (But this isn't even 'everything' I had planned for the end, thus why you have one more chapter 'on deck,' and you can get all that stuff there :p). So, enough talking; I'll let you get to it! Thank you for reading!
xoxo

Derek nodded as he hung up the phone, turning from the hotel-room window and away from the bright lights of the Vegas Strip. He had just received an update from Hotch regarding the covert operation they were going to be executing tonight. Garcia had not had any luck in parsing out one definitive suspect from the shortened list, but she had completed a comprehensive background check on each of the individuals and had faxed the files she complied over to Hotch saying, "I'm not a profiler, so I'll leave the rest to you." The team would work together during the operation to see if they could determine the Unsub's true identity using the profile they had built. In the meantime, Derek was tasked with making sure Spencer was prepared for tonight.
Glancing at the boy in question, Derek felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. Spencer was sitting on the edge of the hotel-room bed, wearing one of the hotel's plush bath robes over his pajamas and happily watching old cartoons as he helped himself to his dinner. In a show of his gratitude, Hotch had signed off on Spencer ordering 'whatever he wanted' from the room-service menu, but the boy had only ordered a pot of coffee, cereal and a brownie for dessert. Derek had cringed when he heard Spencer give the order over the phone. But, it was yet another one of the things that made the quirky teen so enigmatically endearing.
Derek had found himself having a lot of time to 'think' about all the appealing facets of Spencer Reid since he had been cohabitating in a hotel room with the kid for what was going on almost 24hrs. Hotch had wanted everyone in top shape for the night's activities—in addition to not wanting to give the Unsub another chance to take a cheap shot at his team—so last night he had informed them that he was allowing everyone to stay in their hotel rooms as they worked on the case. Derek, however, hadn't been able to get very much rest. Garcia had made new hotel reservations for them, and the room was just as spacious and nice as their last one, but she hadn't been made aware of the fact that Spencer and Derek would be sharing.
So when Derek opened the door to the room last night, his stomach sank at seeing the large, king-sized bed sitting in the center of the room. Spencer had looked happy with the arrangement, but Derek wasn't sure it was wise to have the added temptation. He had immediately placed a call to the front desk and had had to hold back a curse when they told him they had no more double rooms available. Spencer had seemed hurt that Derek wanted to change, but Derek had quickly explained he had wanted a change for comfort's sake. He wouldn't admit to the kid the reason was because he didn't think he'd be able to keep his own hands to himself.
And when they went to bed that night, Spencer had been pretty quiet. The boy hadn't made any attempt to get closer to him, and Derek found himself watching the rise and fall of Spencer's back long after the boy had drifted to sleep. Unfortunately, when Derek had awoken a few hours later, feeling a lot more relaxed than he had when he went to sleep, he realized, by the tickle of coconut-scented chestnut hair against his nose, that he was spooning Spencer. As Derek stiffened, hoping he could ease away from the boy without waking him, he had cursed softly as he felt Spencer shift in his arms. The boy had then turned and looked at him over his shoulder with wide, yet amused, eyes.
"I kind of wondered how long it would take you to realize…" Spencer had murmured as he looked away from him, trying to contain his laughter.
Derek had frowned as he disentangled himself from Spencer and shifted away.
"You could have just woken me up," he had responded gruffly while he pushed himself out of the bed.
"I tried… for almost an hour," Spencer had complained. "You have a vice-like grip."
Derek had flushed at the boy's comment, but he was glad that his back was turned and Spencer wasn't made aware of how rattled he was. He had gotten out of bed then, sitting himself at the small desk in the room and had begun to read over case files. It was still early and Spencer had grumbled that he was going to go back to sleep. Derek was glad that Spencer had picked up on the unspoken agreement that nothing more would be said about the spooning incident.
And throughout the rest of the day Derek had been able to somewhat successfully distract himself from Spencer and the effect the boy was seeming to have on him. The agents came and went from each other's hotel rooms when they had theories they wanted to bounce off one another. And as Derek found himself often sitting at the desk with one of his colleagues poring over a casefile, he was glad that, yesterday, they had made a stop back over to Spencer's apartment before checking into the hotel room for the night. It had allowed Spencer to spend most of the day contentedly thumbing through the books he had brought with him. Derek had been impressed by the boy's reading pace. But, more than anything, he liked being able to glance over to Spencer every once in a while and watch the boy who sat curled up in an armchair across the room, eyes lighting up behind his glasses, obviously enthralled by whatever it was he was reading.
If Derek ever had to leave the room to consult with someone or to make a call that he didn't want Spencer to have to overhear, he would ask Emily or J.J. to come sit with the boy. However, as the day progressed, he began to find himself sometimes using this as a ruse in the moments when he just needed air. These 'moments' often arose when he would catch his eyes lingering on Spencer too long, or thinking too much about what an 'us' would be like for them. Just an hour ago, on one of these 'I need some air' breaks, he had called Garcia. Simply just to hear her voice and to escape his own thoughts. Remembering the conversation, he smiled fondly.
"Derek Morgan!" Garcia responded after she picked up on the second ring.
"Hey, hot stuff," he said, a smile already taking over his face.
"You know what, Derek? You've barely called me since you've been on this case! I was starting to get jealous!" Garcia complained.
"What do you mean, baby girl? You know there's no one else in this world for me," he said with a husky laugh.
"I'd love to believe that, but you've been so hard to reach I had to ask Jayje what's been taking up all of my chocolate-thunder's time," she said.
Derek stiffened slightly, mind already flooding with worrisome thoughts about what the two women could have discussed.
"She said you've been spending a lot of time with that kid, Spencer…that this case has been really hard on him, and he seems to have taken a shine to you. So, after hearing that, I guess I can't be too mad at you. And it's kind of sexy when you play your knight-in-shining-armor role," she said flirtatiously.
Derek smiled, but found that it was somewhat forced.
"Yeah, mama… this case has been rough. For everyone," he said softly, trying not to linger on thoughts of Spencer.
"Ugh, I know! Do you believe I didn't know about J.J. getting hurt until a few hours ago!? Rossi slipped when I was updating him on that stuff from the medical examiner. You guys have to be careful. I don't like my babies getting hurt," she said with concern.
"Will do, mama," Derek said with a sigh.
"Hey… Derek, you… don't sound like yourself," Garcia said, voice losing her bubbly tone.
"It's nothing," he quickly replied, smiling at her concern. "I'm just missing home. And missing me some prime PG-interaction."
His smile widened as he heard her whole-hearted laugh from over the phone.
"You really know how to say the right thing, stud-muffin," she said. "I can't wait for you guys to get back."
"Well… if the maneuver we're running tonight goes as planned we might have our guy, and I might be home sooner than you think," he said, sobering up.
His words reminded him that going 'home' meant leaving Spencer. And that was not something he really wanted to think about at the moment.
"Hmm, that's good, although you don't make it sound like it's good," she said, a hint of suspicion in her voice.
Derek grimaced a bit at her intuitiveness, and scrambled to make up for his slip.
"No, I'm just hoping things work out this time. You know we've been chasing this guy and he's always been a step ahead of us. So, I can't help but be a little wary of our chances," he responded, only telling her the partial reason for his hesitance.
"Yeah, I definitely see that," she said with a sympathetic sigh.
" Well, since I have you on the phone and they pay us to get stuff done, not just make phone-babies," she said with a chuckle, "please pass this message on to Sir Hotchner and the rest of the team: I looked into whether or not the Bennington Sanitarium has any record of someone fitting the Unsub's description visiting Diana Reid within the last year. The time-period in which he visited was really non-specific, and in any case, they record over their surveillance footage every month. The best they could give me was the visitor's log which they keep on file for years. See, paper has yet to go obsolete. Other than Spencer, Diana has only had one other visitor, and that was 4 months ago. Unfortunately, the man signed his name totally illegibly. The best I could see is that it looks like "John" and something with an "M.""
Derek frowned. J.M., he thought to himself. Judgment Maker.
"Most likely used a fake name," he responded.
"I was thinking the same thing. No one on our list has the initials J.M. But, I thought you crime-fighters would still want to know," she said apologetically.
"We appreciate it, baby girl," Derek said. "I'm gonna go update Hotch and the team."
"Hey, Der-bear," she said quickly, before he had a chance to hang up.
"Yeah, Garcia?" he asked.
"You know… whenever things are getting rough for you, you can always call me. I have a million and one ways to make you smile," she said.
Derek shook his head and chuckled, thanking his lucky stars for such a good friend. She always knew when something was wrong with him, even if he tried to deny it. And she also knew not to push it until he was ready to talk. But it was good to know he had an open ear, if and when he needed one.
"You know I know that, sweetness. But, thank you. I'll keep it in mind," he said.
"Love you," she said.
"Love you too, sweet thang," he said before hanging up.
Talking to Garcia had helped to soothe something in Derek he didn't know had needed soothing. He had been spending too much time wracking his brain trying to work out this difficult situation with Spencer. And all it had taken to calm him and help focus his thoughts was a little friendly banter with his favorite technical analyst.
But, now, knowing that it was steadily approaching 6:00, and getting increasingly closer to when they would have to leave for the party, Derek suddenly felt like time had passed too quickly. He was anxious about tonight's plan. They had handled maneuvers like this a number of times in the past. So, he knew it wasn't a lack of faith in the team's ability to pull it off. Nevertheless, he couldn't kick the niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was just the wrong choice to put Spencer in so much danger. But, sighing as he looked down at a text he had just received from Hotch, he knew there wasn't much he could do at this point.
We'll be heading out within the hour. Make sure Spencer's good to go.
"Hey, kid," Derek said as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's almost time to start getting ready."
Derek watched as the happy expression drained from Spencer's face. The boy's eyes dropped from the TV to his lap and he sighed heavily.
"I know you don't really want to do this, but, believe me, I'm gonna be with you every step of the way. I'll be listening in, and as soon as anything seems off, I'll be kicking down the door and storming in," Derek said, trying to force a smile.
Spencer looked up at him and gave him a shaky smile.
"I guess it helps knowing you'll be with me," Spencer said as he instinctively reached out and grabbed Derek's hand.
Derek felt his heart thump in his chest, and was overwhelmed by the urge to reach out and touch Spencer. But—seeing Spencer's dejected expression—what he really wanted, more than anything, was to kiss the kid.
When had that development happened? Derek wondered to himself.
Usually, it was Spencer's searching glances and demanding touches that ignited things between them. But, now, stuck in this room together, Derek felt like he didn't want to leave and face the real world. As if just staying here would mean they didn't have to face all the obstacles plaguing them—murderous Unsubs, age differences, professional protocol, and the reality of the fact that, very soon, they would have to part ways, putting thousands of miles between them.
Hearing no response from Derek, Spencer looked down to where their hands were loosely linked and he squeezed Derek's hand gently before getting to his feet. Derek watched as the boy shuffled over to the suit bag he had brought into the room last night, and, picking it up, he disappeared into the bathroom.
Derek sat and waited for Spencer for almost half an hour, wondering the whole time what could possibly be taking him so long. But when Spencer did finally emerge from the bathroom, Derek had to school his features to prevent his jaw from dropping. Sure, he had often seen Spencer decked out in his outfits before, but this was the first time he had seen the transformation as it happened. The first time he had been able to appreciate him without the dim lights, loud sounds, and general commotion of the club. The first time he had Spencer all to himself. And it killed him that the kid had to go outside and show this to others. Especially the type of people who would be at the party tonight.
The leggy teen stood in the doorway, looking unsure of himself in a white bow-tie, light-blue sequined vest and tight silver booty shorts. The fabric was thin and clung to Spencer's slender body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Every exposed inch of skin was lightly brushed in shimmering blue and silver powder, from his milky, supple-looking thighs to his blushing cheeks. And his hair was lightly gelled, causing the chestnut-brown tendrils to curl against his forehead. Spencer had told him that the party had a 'fire & ice' theme, and Derek could definitely see Spencer's embodiment of an ice nymph.
"Y-you're staring," Spencer pointed out, as he rubbed his arm nervously.
"Uh, shit, sorry about that kid," Derek said as he glanced away.
"I wouldn't have changed here if I could go back to my apartment… um… sorry if it makes you uncomfortable," Spencer said as he bit his lip and looked down at the floor.
"That's not it at all, kid," Derek said as he stepped forward and grabbed Spencer's shoulders, causing the boy to look up in confusion. "Believe me when I say you're killin' it in this outfit."
Spencer blushed hotly at the compliment, looking at him with wide eyes, and Derek wanted to kick himself. He was not supposed to be saying things like that to Spencer Reid. Releasing the boy's shoulders and stepping back quickly, Derek hurriedly paced over to the other side of the room, where he had left his cellphone on the desk. In an attempt to regain his composure, he made a show of checking his phone before he turned back around to face Spencer.
Spencer was staring at him, looking a bit perplexed, but he didn't seem to be ashamed of the way he looked anymore, which made Derek feel better. But he knew he had to keep himself in check from here on out. He watched as Spencer turned and began rummaging around in his belongings. He then stood and slipped on a tan trench-coat. His outfit disappeared behind the knee-length coat, leaving only the boy's bare calves and boots exposed, and Derek gulped a bit, thinking how sexy it would be to watch Spencer peel off that coat.
"Look," he said as he dragged his eyes away from the boy, "everyone's waiting for us down in the lobby,"
He shoved his cellphone into his back pocket and checked the weapon holstered at his hip, before asking, "You good to go?"
Spencer nodded as he grabbed his bags and walked past Derek heading to the door, but he looked hesitant, and Derek felt his resolve slip. Spencer looked like he was preparing himself to be sacrificed to the wolves, and Derek just couldn't deal with seeing him that way.
"I really shouldn't do this, but…" Derek said on a sigh as he grabbed Spencer's arm, stopping the boy in mid-stride. Before Spencer could question him, Derek grabbed the back of Spencer's head and pulled the boy in close for a quick kiss. Spencer was so surprised he couldn't even reciprocate before Derek pulled away.
"I want you coming back in one piece, so don't do anything stupid out there tonight, ok?" Derek said, already turning and unlocking the door.
Spencer's eyes were still wide in shock as he nodded at Derek's back, following the older man out the door.

When they arrived in the lobby, the other four agents were waiting for them. Everyone looked somber until they noticed the two approaching, and then they each exchanged quiet smiles with them.
Spencer's eyes lingered on the obvious bruising around J.J.'s eye, that, even with makeup, could still be seen. He cringed at the thought that he had technically been the cause of that injury. He was suddenly reminded about how all the agents were putting themselves in harm's way to protect him and the thought made his stomach twist. But, he knew that if they were going to make sacrifices for him, the least he could do would be to toughen up and make sure he could get through the night, for them.
"Hey, Spencer," Emily said, drawing him out of his thoughts, as she held up a small black device with wires hanging down. "We need to get this on you. Mind stepping into this conference room with us?'
Spencer nodded quietly as the group ushered him into the hotel's conference room and closed the door behind them. Emily instructed Spencer to take off the trench coat and it wasn't lost on everyone that she stuttered a bit once Spencer dropped the coat. Only a few of the team had seen him outside of his street clothes, and she definitely hadn't been prepared for it. Spencer blushed awkwardly at her reaction, feeling self-conscious.
Emily gave him an apologetic smile.
"Sorry about that. But, damn, Spencer," she joked, which caused him to blush brighter but he also cracked a small smile.
"Let's get going, Prentiss," Hotch said with an eye roll as he walked up next to her, handing her the double-sided tape they would need to use.
Rossi and Derek hung back by the door, making sure no one came in, as J.J. and Emily began to fuss with the wire while Hotch oversaw. Spencer tried to stand as still as he could as the women ran their hands over his bare chest, but he couldn't wait for them to finish. He let out a sigh of relief once it had seemed they had finally figured out a way to tape the wire to his chest, low enough that it couldn't accidentally be seen through the deep v-neck of his vest, and also flush enough against his skin so that an outline wouldn't show through the thin fabric. It had been difficult to position the equipment strategically and Hotch had seemed like he was even considering calling it off for a second.
"It's ok where it is," Emily said as she stepped back and looked at Spencer critically. "It can't be seen, but it definitely could be felt if someone touches you in the area where the wire is placed."
Hotch frowned at that, not liking what he was hearing.
"Spencer, this may become a problem for you if someone feels that you're wearing a wire. Even if the person isn't the Unsub, there are enough important people in that building that someone may feel threatened if they think they're being spied on," Hotch said, seriously.
"Don't worry," Spencer said. "I will go above and beyond to avoid being touched by anyone."
Spencer then glanced over Hotch's shoulder, looking meaningfully at Derek who was leaning against the closed door.
Derek looked away as soon as Spencer's eyes met his, ignoring the sound of Rossi's purposeful-sounding cough coming from next to him. Derek knew what Spencer was getting at. He was telling him that he would avoid being touched, for Derek's sake. Derek couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and possessiveness at the thought, but the rational part of his mind knew it was wrong for Spencer to already think he 'belonged' to him. And it was an added frustration that Spencer's double-meaning wasn't lost on the older profiler standing next to him.
Derek sighed as he pushed away from the door and checked his watch.
"Let's go," he announced. "The party will be starting soon and Spencer needs to be there early to check in."
Hotch nodded in agreement as he handed the trench coat back to the boy in front of him. Spencer mumbled his thanks, feeling his insides start to twist with nervousness again at the thought that he would soon be outside of the protection of the federal agents and left to fend for his own.
Emily placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, seeing that the boy looked lost in thought.
"Don't worry. We'll be with you every step of the way," she promised.

The Prince's Ball was slated to begin at 7:00pm at a private residence in the Las Vegas suburbs. The team had done a thorough vetting of the party hosts, a Mr. Clyde Warren and his wife, Liza, but nothing about them stood out as fitting their profile. Warren was on their initial list of investors, but he had been weeded out early on as a function of his older age and the fact that he very rarely traveled outside of the state of Nevada. They had received schematics of the 12 bedroom, 8 bath mansion from Garcia and were cognizant of all possible exit points. They were confident the premises were not a trap of any sort and had given the green-light to set up onsite surveillance vans in the area.
Derek was currently driving the large Government-issue Suburban with J.J. seated next to him in the passenger seat and Emily and Spencer in the back. Hotch and Rossi had taken another car and would meet them at the surveillance van after they dropped off Spencer. They knew they couldn't drive straight up to the mansion's gates and let him off, as the Unsub could be watching. They needed the element of surprise and for this operation to work they were relying on the man's guard being down. So Spencer would exit the vehicle a few houses down from the Warren residence and walk. They had LVPD officers in unmarked vehicles stationed on the street to ensure that Spencer actually made it inside the house and to prevent any kind of an abduction attempt.
Spencer nervously bounced his legs up and down as he looked out the window, watching the bright-lights and busy streets of Vegas disappear in exchange for quieter, suburban roads lined with large houses. Noticing the boy's frown and nervous behavior, Emily leaned over to get his attention.
"So… tell us how the night's going to go down," she asked, drawing the boy out of his musings. "What's the usual protocol?"
Spencer blinked at her, as if he had forgotten anyone else was in the car with him. He flushed slightly at her intense gaze and cleared his throat.
"Well…uh, we check in and are given our assignments. I've usually always taken a server role, but there are uh…performances too. I don't think I'll have to do any of those, but I'm filling in for another guy who had to call out last minute. He likes to… dance. So I'm not sure if he's signed up for it or not," Spencer said.
J.J. turned around with a concerned look on her face.
"Will you be okay if they ask you to do that?" she asked.
Spencer grimaced.
"Well… I'm hoping I can talk my way out of it, if it comes to that. You know, say I don't know the dance."
Emily and J.J. nodded their agreement. Spencer noticed that Derek was remaining particularly quiet.
"So…you mentioned that your coworkers sometimes have to vie for a spot at these parties. How much would you usually get paid for working one of them?" Emily asked.
Derek glanced back at Spencer through the rearview mirror and he saw that Spencer was looking at him too. The boy's eyebrows furrowed and he looked away, giving his attention to the brunette who had asked the question.
"Um… well, it kind of ranges," he said as he shrugged. "Since the parties take up most of the night and you can't pick up a regular shift at the club that day, each dancer tends to get around $500-700 to work a party. The Prince's Ball is kind of a different type of event since it caters to a very specific clientele. You know, like how they only book males for this party. There are always way more female dancers than males in this industry, so they tend to pay more for a gender-specific party. Plus, the guests who attend the Prince's Ball have particular…um…'tastes,' so they know that they have to sweeten the pot a bit if they want to get dancers to come. So they're paying $1000 for tonight's party."
Emily whistled appreciatively at the high number.
Spencer glanced back up at the rearview mirror and could see Derek looking at him, with a troubled expression on his face. He had purposefully avoided telling Derek that the Prince's Ball was a more high-risk party precisely because he knew the older man probably would have wanted him to back out.
But it wasn't like Spencer was happy about it either. He hadn't known it was the Prince's Ball that he was agreeing to go to when he had made the deal with Hotch. He only realized it when he went to the club and checked the schedule before asking Lindy for permission to attend. He had never attended a Prince's Ball in the past. All the other parties he had gone to called for both genders and often when the female dancers were in attendance he had a good probability of being relatively left alone. He had heard horror stories about the Prince's Ball, especially those about guests, both male and female, being overly aggressive, and he wasn't looking forward to the people he would encounter.
Spencer sighed as Derek's eyes left the mirror and returned to the road. He didn't want the older man to be upset with him. This whole night was already making him so anxious he felt like he wanted to throw up. Right now all he wanted was Derek's support. But Derek was the type who always wanted to be in control of all outcomes, and Spencer knew he didn't like that he didn't know what they were getting him into. Spencer both loved and hated Derek's protectiveness. It made him feel completely safe, but yet completely babied, all at the same time. Both were foreign feelings for him, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond to them.
"Ok, there it is," Emily said as she stretched her arm across Spencer's line of vision and pointed out the window. "We're going to drop you off about a block down the street. Then we're going to have you call us, to make sure the wire is working, ok?"
Spencer nodded quietly.
"As we said before, you won't be able to hear us, but as long as the wire is working we can hear everything you're doing. You won't be alone, Spencer," J.J. said as she turned around again and smiled at him.
As Derek stopped and parked the car, Spencer felt his hands start to become clammy with nervousness. Derek turned over his shoulder, looking at the boy sitting there with his head hung down and hands clenched in his lap. Sighing he unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted so that he could lean over to Spencer through the space between the seats. Ignoring the presence of Emily and J.J., whose eyes he could feel on him, Derek reached out and grabbed one of Spencer's hands.
"Kid, listen to what we're saying. You'll be fine. We won't let anything happen to you," he said.
Spencer just nodded as he continued to stare down at his hands.
"Spencer, look at me," Derek said, in a firm tone.
Spencer's head shot up and he met Derek's dark eyes with his wide ones. Staring into Derek's eyes, Spencer felt something lift from his chest and his doubts began to dissipate. Smiling, seeing that Spencer was relaxing, Derek released his hand. Glancing briefly at Emily and J.J. who were giving him surprised looks, Derek coughed and turned back to face the front.
"You have my number, so call me in about five minutes. Walk very casually once you get out; we want it to appear like you're coming from the bus-stop down the street. Stop about one house away from the Warren residence, and then give us the call, ok?" Derek said.
"O-ok," Spencer said as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door.
"Good luck, Spencer," J.J. said, giving him a reassuring smile.
Spencer gave her a small smile as he hopped out of the SUV and closed the door behind him. The three agents watched the boy walk for a few moments, before Derek threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb.

When Emily, J.J. and Derek made it to the surveillance van parked a street behind the Warren residence, Hotch and Rossi were already situated inside, going over the files Garcia had faxed over. They could see a number of screens showing multiple entrances into the building, and what looked to be staff and caterers coming and going. Hotch looked up, placing the file back on the table.
"Everything alright with Spencer?" he asked, as the agents closed the door behind them and found a place for themselves within the small space.
"He seems pretty scared," J.J. offered. "But… I think he'll be fine."
"He should be calling Morgan's phone any minute now to test out the reception for the wire," Emily informed.
"Ok, good. Morgan and I will handle that. We only have a few minutes before we start, so I want you three to go out and give the officers and field agents a last-minute briefing to make sure we're all on the same page," Hotch instructed.
Rossi, J.J. and Emily nodded as they headed out of the van. When the door closed behind them, Hotch turned to Derek.
"You've spent a lot more time with Spencer than any of us. You think he can pull this off?" Hotch asked, looking at Derek seriously.
Derek sighed as he rubbed the back of his head.
"Whether he can do it, the answer's yes. The kid's stronger than he looks. But, whether we should be letting him do it… well, you know my feelings on that," Derek said, giving Hotch a meaningful look.
Hotch sighed and nodded.
"Our top priority is to keep Spencer as safe as we can. I'm confident that we can keep it so that nothing happens to him. We have the premises literally surrounded, and you know our response time will be around two minutes. But, I still hope Garcia will give us something we can use so that we can pull Spencer out before it comes to that," Hotch responded.
Derek nodded silently. That was the best he had to work with for the time being. He then felt his cellphone vibrating in his pocket and he pulled it out.
"It's Spencer," he announced as he read off the display and answered it.
"Hey kid," he said into the phone. "I've got you on speaker."
"Hi," Spencer responded.
"Spencer," Hotch said. "We need to check to make sure that all the equipment is working correctly. We just need you on the line for a few minutes."
"O-ok," Spencer responded.
Hotch then seated himself in front of the monitors and picked up one of the sets of headphones, slipping them over his ears. Turning on the receptor, Hotch was able to hear the background noises being picked up over Spencer's wire.
"Turn off the speaker on your phone, and have him say something. Just have a conversation," Hotch said to Derek.
Nodding, Derek put the phone up to his ear.
"Hey, kid, just try to remember what I said: Don't try to be a hero tonight," Derek said, somewhat playfully.
Spencer laughed slightly. Derek imagined the boy was probably rolling his eyes at the moment.
"I know, I know. Trust me, I'll definitely stay out of trouble. But what do I get if I do a good job?" Spencer asked, a hint of a tease in his voice.
Now Derek was the one rolling his eyes.
"I'll take you out for ice cream," he said with a slight smile.
Spencer laughed a bit louder this time, and Derek couldn't help but to be relieved at the sound. The kid was obviously feeling more relaxed, and he was happy to hear that.
"Make sure it's coffee flavored, and I can tell you where to lick it off from," Spencer teased.
Hotch made a choking sound from his position at the surveillance desk and, turned, giving Derek an incredulous look. Derek's face was on fire and he almost dropped the phone in his panic.
"What the hell, kid!?" Derek barked into the phone.
"H-Hotch, he's kidding, totally kidding! He has a real warped sense of humor!" Derek rushed out as he turned to look at his supervisor.
He could hear Spencer's laughter over the phone.
"You're going to get me fired!" Derek growled out.
"No worries, Agent Hotchner! Agent Morgan has been nothing but a gentleman with me. I was just making a bad joke," Spencer trilled over the phone.
Hotch shook his head as he pulled off his headphones and got to his feet. Walking over to Derek, he pulled the phone out of his hands, placing it on speaker again.
"Spencer, it's about time for you to head inside," Hotch said in a clipped tone.
"Ok, ok," Spencer said, still trying to hold back his laughter.
"And remember, you won't be able to talk to us, but we can hear anything you say. If you ever feel like you're in danger or you think the Unsub is on to you, just say the safe word, ok," Hotch reminded him.
"Right. 'Pistachios,' got it." Spencer said.
There was a bit of a pause before Spencer's voice came on again, this time sounding far more sober.
"N-nothing's going to happen to me… right?" he asked hesitantly.
Derek cast a worried look over to Hotch who nodded at him.
"No, kid. Don't worry. You've got some of the FBI's finest backing you up. As soon as you say the word, we'll be swarming this place like it's a drug king pin's secret hideout, got me?" Derek asked.
"Got you," Spencer said.
And Derek knew he believed him.
"Ok, I gotta get in there. See you soon," Spencer said, and then the line went dead.

Half an hour later, as Spencer walked into the party, tray of hors d'oeuvres held out in front of him, the room was already dim, strobe lights pulsing, and deep bass music pounding through the room. Through the crowd of bodies, he could see three male dancers performing aerial silk acts in different corners of the large ballroom. He watched in awe for a minute as the muscled men, decked out in fire-red outfits, sensually twisted and contorted amongst the strips of fabric hanging from the ceiling.
"Funny seeing you here, Princess," a voice snarled from behind him.
Spencer jumped, as he turned to look at the blonde, young man, wearing a red version of the outfit Spencer was currently wearing, standing behind him. Chris Sheridan, Spencer thought, anxiety gripping his insides as he looked into the taller boy's cold, brown eyes.
Spencer knew him from the club, but always went out of his way to avoid him. Ever since Spencer's first day working at Mon Petit Chien, the older boy had made his life at the club hell. It had been easier to avoid Chris once Spencer started doing the private shows, but Spencer wasn't quite sure what his problem was with him in the first place. Some of his coworkers had told him that Chris may have been jealous because he had always been the club favorite and when Spencer appeared some of Chris' clientele had dropped him in favor of the younger boy. But Spencer had never been one to give much credence to gossip, and he wasn't sure if he should really believe that. The hatred he saw in Chris' eyes, however, always made him nervous.
"Word was floating around the club that our infamous stuck-up little prima-donna had gotten down on his hands and knees and begged Lindy to let him work a party. I wouldn't have believed it, if I hadn't seen you here with my own eyes," Chris said with a sneer.
Spencer looked away and took a deep breath to steady himself.
"Well… here I am, so I guess you can believe it," he said flatly.
"Hmm, well I'll be sure to let everyone know you're suddenly down with what we do here, then, huh? I'm sure a lot of our esteemed customers would love to finally get the chance to take a crack at you," Chris said sarcastically as he walked past Spencer, purposefully shoving him with his shoulder.
Spencer cringed at the threat. Apparently his plan to stay 'below the radar' wasn't going to go as he had hoped. He watched on with a frown as Chris stopped next to a middle-aged man, whispering something in his ear, and then turned, pointing right at him. Spencer flinched as he saw the man's interested eyes land on him, and, wanting to escape his gaze, Spencer quickly slipped behind a throng of people, making his way towards the edge of the crowded room.
For a good amount of time he was able to make it around the party relatively unscathed, as the guests milled about and selected appetizers from his tray. Some people amicably complimented him on his outfit, while others were a bit more aggressive in their leering. He was used to those types of looks however, and always responded with a tight-lipped, yet polite, smile.
As he turned away from a drunk man who was making some type of lewd remark about the shape of his lips, he bumped into two other boys he knew from the club. They were both older than him by about two or three years, but they had always been friendly. Spencer wasn't totally sure of their names—he had always been bad with names. One of them—Mickey, possibly—was about four inches shorter than Spencer, with a slight build and bright red hair. The other one—possibly named Tommy—was around Spencer's height with shoulder-length dark hair, and a more muscular build.
"Spencer!" Mickey said, eyes wide with excitement. "I heard you took Axel's spot, but really, I couldn't believe it! You never come to these things."
Spencer flushed. Apparently he was the current number one topic of gossip at the club.
"Yeah, well… um… money's been a little tight lately, so I figured I could try it out again," he responded.
The two boys nodded sympathetically, and then Tommy threw an arm around Spencer's shoulder.
"Ugh, honey, but I know you hate these things. So you're a real trooper for coming out. Want a little boost to help you get through it?" he said as he fished around in his pocket and brought out a clear vial.
Spencer stiffened at the offer and hoped that the agents overhearing the conversation wouldn't pick up on the meaning of the exchange.
"Um… n-no. No thanks," he said, shrugging the older boy's arm off his shoulder.
"What? You don't do it anymore?" the redhead asked with a confused expression.
"Really, Spencer, don't tell me you think you're suddenly better than all of us, like everyone's been saying?" Tommy asked, a frown darkening his features.
"I… it's not that I just… things are different for me now," he said, face hot with embarrassment.
"Ooh, different how? Like a 'special somebody' different?" Mickey asked with a grin.
Spencer's face got even hotter. He wondered if it really was possible to die of embarrassment. He did not need the agents hearing any of this—especially one of them in particular. Besides, the two men were way off the mark in their assumptions.
"Please. Things have been different for me for a while. Ok? Just… can we drop this?" he said, almost pouting. "Thanks for the offer, but no."
"Ok, ok! I love it when you look like a hissing kitty," Mickey said as he playfully shoved Spencer's shoulder.
Spencer shook his head and let out a sigh of relief.
"Well, kid, if you do have a special someone," Tommy said with a wink, "I'd avoid going over to the tables by the aerial dancers. The guys over there are already more than a couple martinis in and have been especially handsy. I've gotten some really good tips, but I know you're not into that."
Spencer frowned at the news but nodded his thanks at the dark-haired boy. In his opinion, this party couldn't come to an end fast enough.

When Emily, Rossi and J.J. returned to the van, each was handed a pair of headphones. Everyone would be privy to the audio as they multitasked with reading through files or observing the surveillance videos in search for their Unsub. Derek sat in the farthest corner of the van, by himself, as he silently listened to every sound that came over the headphones. He didn't think he was capable of multitasking at the moment. He didn't like the sound of the first person who had talked to Spencer—practically threatening to throw the reluctant boy to the wolves. Derek hadn't ever thought that people at the club had it out for Spencer, but now it appeared that that might really be the case.
They all listened with worry as Spencer was often spoken to dismissively by the party guests and, worse, when he was treated like an object by them as well. And when the two boys had approached Spencer and struck up a conversation, the agents all glanced at each other in concern, having their own thoughts about what a 'boost' meant.
"Drugs?" J.J. mouthed to Emily, an eyebrow quirked in question.
The brunette grimaced in response and could only shrug and shake her head.
Derek tried to ignore their exchange, turning away from them and focusing back in on the conversations. He had no idea if Spencer had a life like that, and if he did, he wanted to hear it from the kid himself.
"I've got an incoming call from Garcia," Hotch announced as he pulled the buzzing phone from his pocket and tugged off his headphones. Engaging the call, he put it on speaker.
"Ding ding ding, who wants a creepy Unsub back story for the win?" Garcia's excited voice came over the speaker.
"What are you talking about, Garcia?" Emily asked, as she also pulled her headphones off and turned to the phone.
"I think I may have found a really good fit for who our Unsub might be after unsealing some um…sealed records. I'm thinking Adrian Moore is our guy," she announced proudly.
"Moore?" Hotch asked as he rolled over to the small work desk and began to rifle through the files laid out there.
"Yes," he said, recognition evident in his voice, when he found the file. "This one stood out to me, too."
Hotch held up the picture from the file, which showed a handsome-looking man with piercing, dark blue eyes and thick black hair.
"Garcia, tell me what you were able to find out about him," he said.
The other agents leaned in to listen to the technical analyst's report. Some of them, like Derek, still kept their headphones half-on their ears to keep a tab on what was going on inside the building.
"Adrian Moore is the 28-year-old heir to Moore Industries, an import/export company. He was born in California, where his grandfather began the company that Adrian later inherited from his father. His company also has holdings in both Nevada and Arizona. He is basically the face of the organization but apparently doesn't do much in terms of 'running it.' Part of his professional responsibilities includes attending social events like charity balls and other philanthropic functions. Often these coincide with visiting the satellite offices of his company. And, by looking through attendance records, there has always been some kind of event or company-visit that Adrian attended around the same dates as the killings," Garcia read off.
The five agents looked at each other, their thoughts readily apparent on their faces. This sounded like their guy.
"Tell us about his background," Hotch asked. "It's just circumstantial that he was in the towns when the murders were committed. We need to understand his stressor."
"Ok, well, little Adrian Moore had a very bad, but very rich Daddy. It seems Daddy was into some really weird S&M stuff, and abused a lot of women but paid them off to keep them quiet. Mommy didn't like that Daddy was doing all this dark and dirty on the side, and one day Daddy killed Mommy. Apparently little eight-year-old Adrian witnessed it, and even though he told the authorities about what he saw, Daddy was still able to make it seem like Adrian was crazy and that Mommy had died of 'natural causes,'" Garcia stated.
"The official medical report says the mother had an aneurysm and then tumbled down the stairs, causing all the bruising to her body and face. Adrian's version of the story was that his father knocked his mother around, as he often did, and then pushed her down the stairs. Apparently, there was documented proof of Mrs. Moore showing up to the E.R. in the past with numerous injuries consistent with spousal abuse, but they were never flagged as domestic violence in her files. In any case, the official cause of death was a bleed in the brain and his lawyers and doctors were willing to sign off on the story that the death was accidental," she continued.
"Little Adrian was sent away to a psychiatric facility and kept there until he was almost thirteen. Then Daddy pulled him out so he could attend boarding school. His school reports say that he excelled academically, but he was withdrawn, antisocial, and extremely rigid in his idea of right and wrong. There are a number of 'incidents' between him and other students involving him getting into fights and um…choking a few of them when he believed they were liars. But, it appears his father was able to make a few big donations to the school and, again, those accusations just disappeared. Adrian went on to graduate from that high school and attended an Ivy League for his bachelor's and MBA. He managed to basically stay off the crazy-radar until he was 23," Garcia said.
"And what happened when he was 23?" Derek asked, pulling himself away from listening to Spencer's wire for a moment.
"His father died," Garcia said simply. "It was a freak accident. He was abroad and apparently was involved in some kind of boating incident."
"I'm guessing that was around the same time as the first killing?" J.J. asked somberly.
"Right on the dot, Jayje," Garcia answered. "He had some kind of meltdown at a public event when he learned about his father's death. He 'took some time off' at some wellness spa, which is rich-people code for 'spent two weeks at a psychiatric hospital.' And the first killing happened only a few days after the doctors cleared him and he got out."
"If Moore believed that his father had wronged him by first murdering his mother, and then shipping him off to be institutionalized for most of his life, he probably felt that the person he most needed to exact retribution on was his father. Having his father die accidentally, though, thousands of miles away from him, instead of by Moore's own hand probably caused him to snap. It's likely he saw these other men as surrogates for his father," Hotch said.
"From the final pieces of background I've been able to gather on all the victims, I'd say you guys' theory that he was killing those who were paying off people they hurt checks out as well. I just got a report in today that Victor LaRoux was accused of propositioning two high school boys but that he was currently in the process of paying off the families to keep them quiet. His wife didn't even know about it. But that was where those large sums of money were going to, and it was bankrupting them. Each victim had something like this in their past," Garcia reported.
"Ok, but how did they all cross paths? And across so many states," Emily asked with a perplexed expression on her face.
"Well, that was another lead I wasn't able to confirm until earlier this evening. Really, our guy was quite smart about his hunting grounds. I was able to discover that he either met these people at the club, which you know is a no-paper-trail kind of place, or at some high-society social function. I didn't have any verifiable information for so long because a lot of these events used paper records to keep track of who did or didn't attend a function. I had to wait for the administrative personnel to track down the guest lists, if they even kept them from years back, to tell me if and when someone was in attendance. The only saving grace was that, seeing as how many of these events were charitable, the organizations tended to keep the attendance lists because they needed to keep track of who had donated so they could formally thank them later," Garcia responded.
"So you're saying every single one of the victims, at some point, crossed paths with this Adrian Moore character?" Rossi asked.
"Yes, sir," Garcia confirmed. "Every single one. I think we have our guy."
"What about the signet ring? Did you find anything on that front?" Hotch asked, wanting to exhaust all venues of investigation.
"The ring was difficult to confirm, sir. I couldn't find any real 'family crest' connection to the Moore-line, but I did look through the list of Adrian's father's personal effects which were provided in the death report and it did say that he died wearing a ring. It was a police report from overseas so they didn't describe the ring in any real detail. But, all his effects were shipped back to his next of kin which definitely was Adrian," Garcia updated.
"Hmm," J.J. said. "Well, it's likely that ring had some significance for Moore if he used it in all his killings."
"Maybe it was his way of connecting to his father and showing that he was punishing those men the way he couldn't punish his father? The burns were always enacted post-mortem. They weren't part of the sexual thrill the Unsub gained from the kill. It seemed more like they were compulsive," Rossi postulated.
Hotch nodded his agreement.
"And the book that he sent to Spencer?" he asked Garcia.
"Same there. Only a tenuous connection. Moore's father was an avid collector, but it was more of antiques and artifacts. His grandfather however, was definitely a collector of rare books. I found an old newspaper article saying his grandfather donated a collection of books to a library museum. The list didn't include a first-edition The Idiot, but it did have a few other Russian works. It's totally possible that books remained with the family and they never registered them with a rare books service, but I can't say for sure," Garcia said.
"It's odd that both the grandfather and father were serious collectors. That's usually a hobby one passes down. Is there anything in Adrian's history that indicates he also has that kind of hobby?" J.J. asked with a furrowed brow.
"Nothing that I can see. From what I've been able to gather he really stays under the radar. Other than having to attend work and social functions, he's basically a ghost," Garcia said.
"Well… he might not have a hobby just yet. But from what we heard on the phone, it sounds like if he starts collecting anything, he might plan to start his collection with Spencer," Rossi said as he shook his head.
Derek whipped around to stare at Rossi in shock, and saw the man cringe slightly at the words he had just uttered. Even though the older profiler's observation was astute and likely correct, Derek couldn't help but feel like he had been punched in the gut. He didn't need to think about this bastard taking Spencer away and keeping him locked up in some room like a prized bird. Derek turned away and stared down at his hands, clenching them into fists as he tried to calm down. Everyone remained silent as they mulled over the troubling words.
"Well… that's a disturbing thought. Let's hope it doesn't get to that point," J.J. said, somberly, finally breaking the silence.
"I think Adrian Moore's the best we have to go on. There are too many things linking up here for this to just be mere coincidence," Emily said as she looked at Hotch.
"I agree," he said, nodding.
"Where is he right now, baby girl?" Derek asked, trying to stay focused on the main goal.
"That, I unfortunately do not know," Garcia said. "He does have an address in Vegas, and also one in California. Although he has been using burner phones to torment us, there has been a good amount of recent activity on his personal phone in Vegas, so we'd be safe to say he's still in town. But, I can't pinpoint him until he turns his phone on and makes another call. If we're even that lucky."
"If he is our guy, I'd bet he's inside those doors," Hotch said as he glanced at the displays in front of them. "I can't spare any of us to go over there and check his place out at the moment. So, for the time being, have the LVPD dispatch some squad cars to his residence and sit on it, in case he beats us back there."
"Will do, sir," Garcia said.

As a passing guest took the last cocktail off his tray, Spencer sighed with relief. An empty tray meant he had an excuse to go back in the kitchen and escape the party for a minute. Turning to head back towards the entrance hall, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Spencer stopped to look behind him and came upon a dark-haired, middle-aged man, dressed in a fine black suit. The man was about his height with dark eyes that were staring at him leeringly.
"Um… yes, how can I help you sir?" Spencer asked.
"One of your friends told me about you. I've been watching you all night and couldn't wait to get a chance to get you by yourself," the man said with a smirk.
Spencer almost groaned out loud. Chris Sheridan, he thought with distaste.
"Oh, is that right? Well, as you can see, my tray's empty and they don't like it when that happens, so unfortunately I'm gonna have to go make another trip back in the kitchen. So…" Spencer said as he turned to leave.
But then he let out a hiss of pain as he felt the man grab his wrist tightly, and forcefully turn him back around.
"Don't play coy with me, boy," the man almost snarled.
"Ah!" Spencer gasped as he tried to twist his arm away, but found that the punishing grip would not loosen. "Sir, y-you're hurting me. Please let go."
"Why don't you and I go up to one of the private rooms?" the man offered, not releasing him, but lessening the painful grip.
Spencer's eyes widened as he tried to step back from the man. But he wouldn't let him go.
"Sorry sir, I'm really not available," he said, trying to tug his arm free.
"Come on, now, I'll make it worth your while, you know that," the man said, smiling as if he thought Spencer was playing a game.
"No, sir. Really. I don't do that. But I'm flattered," Spencer offered, starting to feel nervous.
"Aww, come on, I know it's fun to act like you don't put out, but you can let me touch, can't you…? And we'll see where things go from there? I'm sure we can make each other feel good. How about one grand to come upstairs with Daddy, huh? Be a good boy," the man said as he pulled Spencer closer and threw an arm around his waist.
Spencer let out a squeal of disgust as he felt the man's hand slip down and begin to palm his bottom.
"I'm serious. Please sir, don't touch me," Spencer pleaded as he tried to push the man away.
"I can touch you above your clothes as much as I want, you dumb slut. This is what I'm paying for," the man snarled.
Spencer gulped and lowered his head in shame as he felt the man continue to knead his ass. It was true—the guests were allowed to touch as much as they wanted. That was part of his job, and he didn't have a right to decline. The man seemed like he wanted to take advantage of that, and Spencer didn't know how to get away without making a scene.
Then, almost as if by divine intervention, someone called out "Collins!" and the man holding Spencer loosened his grip. Spencer felt someone walk up next to them, but he was so ashamed of what he had been just subjected to that he couldn't even bring himself to look up.
"Hey, I've been looking for you," the new voice was saying. "The governor's aide is here. I want to introduce you two."
As 'Collins' turned around, Spencer took advantage of the opportunity to escape and quickly walked as fast as he could—short of running—out of the ballroom. Once he was out into the hall, the loud, raucous noise of the party inside quickly disappeared. There were a few people milling around outside in the hall, and Spencer made sure to turn a corner into the next deserted hallway, before he finally let himself slide down against the wall. He was shaking as his heart pounded in his chest. He gulped down a huge breath to steady himself.
With trembling hands, he grabbed his vest, and whispering down into his shirt, he breathlessly said: "I'm ok, I'm ok. Agent Morgan… Everyone, I'm fine. Don't come. You don't have to come."

The shaky words coming across Spencer's wire were the only thing that had stopped Derek from bursting out of the surveillance van. Hotch had been yelling at him to sit down during the whole exchange, but Derek had paid him no mind, snapping "You don't know what he's been through!"
Hotch had given him a hard stare at that comment, and asked him if he would be able to remain objective. Derek had had no response. But everyone breathed a sigh of relief once they heard Spencer's whispered words of reassurance and the situation inside the van had quickly deescalated.
"This is despicable. He's being treated like a piece of meat," J.J. said as she flung her headphones off. "Hotch, is it ok if I just… can I just read the files? I can't sit here and listen to this anymore."
Hotch looked at her with an understanding expression and nodded as he sighed. He then glanced at each member of the team, who all looked equally troubled.
"I understand this is difficult for all of you to sit here and do nothing. Especially with how much time we've been spending with Spencer lately. But, don't forget why we're here. Our mission isn't to save Spencer from the cards he's been dealt. Unfortunately, this is the life he's living and we have to be able to see that for what it is. What we're here for is to catch a serial killer. We can't jump in every second something questionable arises as a function of Spencer's job. Until, and unless, we hear a crime being committed we cannot act," Hotch said.
Derek let out a huff of disbelief. To him, everything these despicable people were subjecting Spencer to seemed like a crime.
Rossi glanced in the direction of his troubled-looking younger colleague and sighed.
"We don't have eyes inside the venue. Spencer's the best person to gauge his comfort level. He knows what to say to get us in there. If he needed us, he would let us know. We have to trust in his ability to handle himself," Rossi said to the room, but the message was meant particularly for Derek.
Murmuring their agreement, the others replaced their headphones. As Derek placed his over his ears he cast a glance in Rossi's direction and watched as the man gave him a subtle nod, hoping to convince him that everything would be okay.

All throughout the night, dark-blue eyes had been following the svelte form of Spencer Reid. From across the dimly-lit room, the man could still see Spencer so clearly. The boy stood out like a beautiful, silver beacon. His pale body was complemented so well by the clothes he was wearing that the man found himself entranced with the boy's every move. He loved the way the boy's long limbs flexed with every step. He loved those large, light-brown eyes. He even loved that little diamond-shaped mouth. The thought of having him all to himself caused a tremor to run through the man's body and his grip tightened on the cocktail glass in his hand.
When the man had gotten the call from Lindy Roth last night informing him that Spencer had, last minute, asked to attend the Prince's Ball, the man had been perplexed. He knew Spencer. From the first time he saw him at one of these events, he knew the boy strongly dreaded the parties. Something had seemed peculiar about his decision, and the man wondered briefly if it was some type of farce. But, then Ms. Roth had flippantly said that, "Well, we all go through rough patches. The kid's been feeling the strain of losing customers after… well… the 'incident.' So, I can't say it's really a surprise."
The man had laughed then. Yes, Spencer was 'losing customers,' but really, wasn't that for the best? Spencer didn't need to do such a demeaning job as dancing at Mon Petit Chien anymore. No, the man was going to make sure of that. When Spencer came to live with him, the boy would have the best of the best.
But, the man thought with a smirk, if the boy wants to dance for me… well, who am I to say no?
So, after hearing the news from Ms. Roth, the man had known he had to come to the party as well. He, himself, often avoided the events unless there was a business venture related to it. But, this was a rare opportunity. The man knew that the Federal goon-squad that was currently sticking infuriatingly close to Spencer kept their distance when the boy was at 'work.' He figured they thought the man would not attempt to approach the boy in a crowded venue. And, it was true that that wasn't his preferred 'style.' But, really, the man had had enough. They weren't going to stand in his way anymore. He was tired of waiting.
After the inconvenient run-in with the agents at the hotel, the man had decided that he wasn't going to let them ruin his plans anymore. Granted, it was fun to take a few shots at Jennifer when she had ambushed him in the hallway. If he hadn't been so amused by the thought of showing them how really out of their element they were, he would've just shot the small blonde woman when she was down instead of trying to knock her out in the stairwell. But, he honestly had no real interest in killing her. The women, while annoyingly mother-hen like when around Spencer, were only protecting his boy. He could understand. Spencer was the kind of boy who just made you want to take care of him. The real one he wanted to put a bullet in had been the swarthy, muscular and cocky man sleeping—with his boy—behind that hotel door. The thought of it just incensed him.
If Jennifer hadn't come out of her room at that point, the man knew he could have easily slipped into the room occupied by the sleeping Derek Morgan. He hadn't known what he was going to find, but he had told himself that even if Spencer was being unfaithful the boy could be trained to be better. He would have to be punished for his infidelity, of course, but the man would still take him in. In any case, he wanted to put an end to Derek Morgan. Before he had left for the hotel, he had thought for hours about whether he would do it execution-style, or if he would force the cocksure agent to wake up and stare down the barrel of his gun. That would be exhilarating. But, there were so many things that could go wrong, especially with Spencer in the room, that the man had told himself he couldn't let himself be overcome by passion. He had to stick to the plan.
But the plan had been ruined, and while it had been entertaining to lead those two dark-haired men on a wild-goose chase, he lamented the fact that Spencer had, yet again, slipped out of his grasp.
Never again, the man thought as he watched the boy smile politely as he handed a martini over to a tall woman.
The man had intended to stay close to Spencer tonight, observing the boy below his radar. Just like he had the first time he had ever seen Spencer in person. At a party just like this one. But, he had had to step in when he saw Rick Collins, a disgusting wall-street leech, grab Spencer tightly.
How impudent, the man had thought with disdain.
So he had called out to Collins, pretending to be interested in introducing him to some of his political contacts. Collins was always interested in social climbing and his eyes had lit up at the offer. The man had only had eyes for Spencer, however, as he watched the boy with his head hung low and shoulders slightly trembling. This close to Spencer for the first time in as long as he could remember, the man thought he could smell cinnamon wafting off of the boy's skin. It had made his mouth water. But he didn't know if it had been his imagination.
Spencer had not even chanced looking up at the man. It would have been alright if he did, however. The man knew Spencer had no idea what he looked like. He had wanted to stare into the boy's eyes, and, with a look, tell him "I'm here to save you." But, instead, the boy took the opportune distraction as a chance to slip away from him and Collins. And as the man watched Spencer practically run out of the ballroom, he had let him go. He could comfort the boy to his heart's content later.
Later… He had plans. The man always had a plan. He was going to make sure Spencer didn't have the chance to slip away from him again. He would get the boy alone tonight, and he would convince him that it was time to be together. And, well… if Spencer wasn't willing to be convinced, the man had other ways of getting what he wanted.

An hour later, Spencer sighed as he yet again stepped outside into the expansive entrance hall. He was on his way back to the kitchen after having been instructed to start bringing out the harder liquor. It was just past 10 pm and the night's main entertainment was about to start. It would consist of a rather risqué strip show, and Spencer was happy he was outside of the room at this point. This was the part in the night when the lights had started getting lower, and he could see more and more entangled bodies locked in embraces writhing on the couches that were littered around the perimeter of the room. He had also watched more than a few guests and dancers disappear up the stairs.
Walking down the long, deserted hallway as he listened to the pulsing music and enthusiastic cat-calling die down behind him, Spencer could only think about how grateful he was that the night wasn't going nearly as badly as he had imagined. He had been prepared to be manhandled all night, so that came as no surprise. But he had not had a single encounter that stood out to him as anything particularly out of the ordinary and he was starting to think this "Unsub" character just wasn't going to show. But he was more than happy about that. While he knew the agents needed the man to show himself, if they had any hopes of apprehending him, Spencer honestly would be happier if he, personally, never had to come face to face with their Unsub.
As he walked past a set of tall, heavy oak doors that were pushed partially open, he heard something that caused him to stop.
"Hey! You, I need some help in here," a voice called from within.
Spencer frowned in confusion as he looked around the empty hallway.
"Uh… me?" he asked as he stepped closer to the doors. Peeking inside slightly, he couldn't see the entire expanse of the room, but from what he could see the room looked to be a large, well-appointed library. It was quite beautiful.
"Yes, you! Come in here quick," a man said as he suddenly appeared in front of Spencer's line of vision.
Spencer stepped back in shock, not having been expecting someone to appear so suddenly. He looked up at the man, who was probably two or three inches taller than him, and stared into captivating dark-blue eyes. The man smiled at him, with perfect white teeth and Spencer found himself thinking he was definitely handsome. But Spencer didn't remember seeing him during the party.
As the man put his arm around Spencer's shoulder and ushered him into the room, Spencer was perplexed. He didn't understand what this person could possibly want, or even why he was in the library when most of the other guests were either in the ballroom watching the show or upstairs getting up to… other devices. He definitely knew this room was off-limits for party guests. But Spencer had no idea what the hosts looked like, and wondered if maybe this person was related to them, or maybe he was part of the event-planning staff.
As the door clicked shut behind him, and Spencer walked further into the room, letting himself take in more of the beautiful, yet deserted, library, he found himself remembering that the man had said he needed help with something. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, he realized that he had come in without asking the man what it was that he actually wanted.
"Um, I'm just hired help for this party. I doubt I know much about whatever it was that you needed. But maybe I can find someone else to help you," Spencer offered as he turned around.
But when he turned, he was surprised to see that the man was standing right behind him, so close that Spencer had to jerk his head back to avoid bumping noses with him.
Spencer stepped back and looked at the man uncertainly.
"Well, no need to worry about that," the man said with a smile. "I really just wanted to get a chance to talk to you."
Spencer winced, wanting to kick himself for his stupidity, as he backed up further into the room. The man was standing in front of the door, blocking it, and Spencer wasn't sure he could get around him if he made a run for it. He felt his heartrate quicken as the gravity of his situation set in, but he tried to calm himself down. There were rules for these parties, and the guests were always sure to follow them to a 'T.' They couldn't maintain their alternative lifestyle if they couldn't trust each other and the rules helped to guarantee that. Spencer knew the library was off-limits for engaging in any 'activities,' and unless this man was crazy, Spencer believed that he wouldn't try anything.
He stopped backing up as he felt the hard, wooden edge of the back of the leather sofa digging into his spine.
"Don't look so scared," the man said, chuckling. "Like I said, I just want to talk."
Although the man's words sounded genuine, and he was smiling, his eyes remained cold. It made something twist uncomfortably in Spencer's stomach.
"Uh… sir, as you know, this is one of the rooms that are off-limits for the party so… I really don't think we should be in here," Spencer said, gripping the chair behind him in nervousness.
"Don't you find the atmosphere out there to be so garish? Nothing but a bunch of dogs in heat, really. And so loud. I like it better in here. I feel like you would too," the man said as he started walking towards Spencer.
Eyes widening, Spencer quickly moved around the couch, putting it between him and the approaching man.
"Well, you see… I have a job to do, so I can't stay in here with you. E-even if it's just to talk," Spencer answered.
"Well, it's exactly because you have that job to do that I think you should sit down and have a chat with me. You're getting paid to make the guests happy, aren't you?" the man asked, smiling again. But this time, Spencer felt there was something sinister about the smile.
Sighing heavily, Spencer felt resigned to his fate. There was no one else here and even though the man was wearing a finely-made casual suit, he could see signs of his obvious musculature under the material. He doubted he could overpower him. And, in Spencer's opinion, this hadn't yet escalated to a situation where he should use the safe word and call the agents in. He had yet to discover if the 'Unsub' was at this party and if he called them in too early he would run the risk of ruining their whole operation. He had made the stupid decision to follow this man into this room, alone. So it was his responsibility to get himself out of it. He had faith in his ability to talk his way out of dicey situations.
"Ok," Spencer said as he hesitantly sank down on the leather sofa. "We can talk for a little bit… and just talk. B-but then after that I really need to get back to work."
The man smiled again and came around the other side of the sofa, taking a seat.
"I've been watching you all night. I really appreciate how you don't seem interested in the…seedier elements of this event. I was really impressed by the number of amorous suitors you've turned down. I don't like sluts, Spencer," the man said pointedly.
Spencer flinched and his eyebrows rose. He stared at the man in confusion.
He… just called me Spencer, he thought, worriedly. It wasn't customary for guests at the parties to know the dancer's names. Not unless the dancer introduced himself. Spencer couldn't think of a single reason why this man would know his name. He didn't think he had ever met this man before, although something about him did seem vaguely familiar.
Maybe… maybe this is another thing that jerk Sheridan set up? Spencer wondered to himself.
But the man was still talking.
"I have always wondered how people like you get caught up in this world. It poisons you, and turns you into something lesser… But you… you seem to be one of the few who have kept their scruples about them. You really stand out," the man breathed as he leaned in.
Spencer found himself instinctively backing up, but there was nowhere to go as his side bumped into the arm of the chair.
"Come here," the man said, eyes darkening as they roved over Spencer's form.
"Wait, no," Spencer said as he pushed away from the man. "That's not—you said you just wanted to talk!"
"I lied," the man growled out as he grabbed Spencer's wrists and pulled him closer, forcing him to lie prostrate on the couch, and straddled him.
"Stop! Wait! You can't do this! Please," Spencer said as he struggled.
"I just want to touch you. I've been waiting for so, so long," the man purred as his free hand went to Spencer's chest, stroking against the bare skin peeking through the vest. "Let's get this off."
Spencer stiffened, remembering the wire that was taped to his skin under the clothing. Thinking quickly, Spencer tried to relax and forced himself to smile up at the man seductively.
"H-how about you first?" he asked, forcing a sultry tone into his voice.
The man paused and looked at him quizzically. Then a grin passed over his features and he sat back releasing Spencer's wrists.
Spencer let out a soft sigh of relief. He was hoping the man would let him go long enough to undo his shirt and maybe he could escape then. But as the man's hand went to his collar and began to unbutton the shirt, Spencer's eyes widened as dark ink was revealed on the man's collarbone. It was a tattoo. It was familiar.
Spencer couldn't understand it. He couldn't believe it. Was he the man? The person he had seen that horrible night in the club? The man who had sent all the gifts? The one who made all those terrifying calls? Spencer thought he would at least remember the man's voice. The chilling timbre was ingrained in his head. But then, he realized, there were some things familiar about this man's voice, even down to the language he used. It sounded like that of the person on the phone, and yet it didn't. And then it dawned on him: he had used modulation.
Spencer stared on in horror as the man looming over him shirked off his dark gray dress shirt, revealing a powerful chest and a sprawling tattoo that snaked across his collarbone and shoulder blades. And he was suddenly frozen with terror. He had forgotten all plans to escape. He couldn't move. He couldn't believe that he had willingly walked into a room with a sociopath. A man who had murdered numerous people. How could he not have known?
And then something was clicking in Spencer's head. Where he had remembered seeing the man before—why he looked vaguely familiar. He had seen his picture two nights ago in the photo lineup Derek had showed him. He remembered quickly swiping past the picture because he had barely recognized him then. But, now, his memory quickly did what it was best at—remembering words—and generated the name associated with the image: Adrian Moore.
Adrian grinned, seeing that recognition had finally dawned on Spencer.
"I never thought you'd be so eager so soon," he breathed as he placed his hands on Spencer's thin shoulders. "But I'm happy you'd accept me. Unlike all those other men."
Spencer cringed and turned his face away. The man sounded so flattered.
When Spencer felt the man's hands slide down his arms, he had to fight to hold back his repulsion. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he started to feel like he couldn't breathe. His thoughts were racing in his head, making him dizzy. All he wanted to do was get out of there. He was tired of being constantly in fear—tired of being the victim.
"Don't touch me!" he said as he brought his hands up, shoving hard at the man's chest.
Adrian hadn't been expecting Spencer's resistance and the force of the boy's shove pushed him off enough for Spencer to twist and scramble half off the couch. But Spencer wasn't quick enough, and the man grabbed his shoulders, pressing him down onto the couch, chest-first.
"What's with this all of a sudden? Why so shy? You're acting like a scared little virgin," Adrian said as he chuckled.
"I am a virgin," Spencer spat, unthinkingly, as he looked over his shoulder angrily.
But then his mouth went dry as he saw something change in the man's eyes. It was a mix of disbelief, awe and… arousal.
"You're lying…" Adrian said, almost breathlessly.
Spencer cringed in disgust as he could feel the man's obvious hardness pressing against him.
Then his eyebrows drew down in determination. This was not going to happen to him.
Spencer bucked his hips backward, attempting to throw the larger man off of him. He was able to get partially out from under him and, twisting around, he brought the heel of his hand up against the bottom of the man's chin. Adrian cried out in pain, but he was determined as well and quickly returned Spencer's blow with a slap to the boy's face. Spencer gasped in shock as he fell back down to the couch.
"This is what I was talking about," Adrian said, eyes flashing wildly and voice hardening with his anger. "This is why you need to be trained! You don't know how to behave!"
Spencer was terrified as he watched the irate man above him. He knew he needed help, but he wasn't sure if help would come before it was too late. And, suddenly, remembering that others were listening, he knew he needed to alert the team before the man realized what was going on.
"I-I want to eat pistachios in the library!" he suddenly blurted out. "Pistachios in the library!"
"What?" Adrian asked, face reflecting his confusion.
But suddenly it seemed as if something had dawned on him, and, with a snarl, he reached down and grabbed Spencer's vest, tearing it with the force of his grip.
And then it was like time stood still. Spencer stared on in horror as the wire taped to his chest was revealed, and he watched the man's face change, as if morphed by rage.
"What… what the fuck is this!?" Adrian screamed as he stared down at the wire. "You traitorous little shit!"
Before Spencer could open his mouth to respond, he felt hands closing around his throat.

As Derek listened to the loud sounds of the party dying out and Spencer responding to someone asking him for help, he gritted his teeth.
What is this kid thinking? He wondered angrily to himself. He had specifically told Spencer not to do anything stupid. And going anywhere in that house that wasn't a part of the plan was definitely the epitome of stupid.
He listened as the sounds of the party completely disappeared and his hands balled into fists as he realized Spencer had gone somewhere secluded with this stranger. And from the sounds of it, it was behind a closed door. He glanced at his colleagues and could see that they all looked similarly troubled about what they could hear taking place in that room.
"That voice…" Emily murmured to herself. "Something about it seems familiar."
But barely anyone registered her comment as they all found themselves engrossed in what they were listening to over the headphones.
As the conversation progressed and he caught on to what the man wanted, Derek wondered how Spencer would get out of this. When he heard the man actually refer to the boy as Spencer, Derek looked to Hotch. He could see that Hotch's hands were clenched into fists atop the work desk and the man's mouth was drawn down into a grim frown. Although Hotch was worried, he didn't give the order to move in—he didn't want to botch the mission if Spencer would be able to extract himself from the sticky situation.
"Spencer hasn't given the signal," Hotch said, face tight, as he continued to listen carefully to the interaction. "We have to wait for him to tell us he needs us."
Fear gripped Derek's insides. It seemed that trouble always seemed to find Spencer. He didn't want to wait for things to get so bad that Spencer 'needed' them. This man—whoever he was—didn't sound like their Unsub, but based on the clear fear he could hear in Spencer's voice, Derek couldn't be certain that the man wouldn't hurt the boy. He didn't know if he could really sit there and do nothing while Spencer was in there by himself. And he was even more worried because he knew Spencer's go-to reaction was to fend for himself. He wasn't used to relying on others. He feared that Spencer wouldn't know to ask for help until things had gotten too far out of hand.
"He… he can get out of this," J.J said softly, as if she was trying to convince herself. "He'll be ok."
But, to Derek, something just felt wrong about this. More than just the fact that he had to sit and listen to Spencer's scared voice as he tried to talk his way out of a situation where it was obvious the man was interested in more than just talking. Something… something else seemed off. His subconscious wouldn't let go of the fact that it was too coincidental that on the same night they sent Spencer into this party to bait their Unsub he ended up sequestered in some room with an unknown male. And although Derek's mind was keyed up to look out for their Unsub, the man in the room with Spencer just didn't sound like the man they had spoken to yesterday. But little words and phrases were tugging at his subconscious, causing his stomach to twist anxiously.
And when the man finally showed his true colors, and Spencer yelled out "Don't touch me!" a tense silence filled the van as the team listened to the muffled sounds of fabric moving, Spencer's quick breaths and what appeared to be an obvious struggle. Derek was on his feet when he heard the sound of skin hitting skin, followed by the man's pained cry. He knew—he just knew—Spencer was now in far more danger. And when the man's cry was followed by an audible slap and the sound of Spencer gasping in pain, Derek turned infuriated eyes on to his superior.
"Hotch!" Derek barked, arms raised in desperation, trying to will the older man to act.
"Morgan, we can't! Not until we know there's no other choice," Hotch said, attention still on the scene playing out over the headphones.
Then the man was screaming at Spencer, talking about how the boy needed to be trained, and Derek had a sinking feeling in his stomach. That was more than just familiar. There was the possessiveness. There was the delusion. And Derek immediately knew it in that moment: Spencer was in there with the Unsub.
They then heard Spencer's quick, frightened voice saying "Pistachios in the library!" and everyone else in the van was instantly on their feet.
"Go, go, go!" Hotch yelled, not wasting a moment.
But Derek was already kicking the doors to the van open and had hit the ground running.

Eyes wild with rage, Adrian Moore pressed his hands into Spencer's throat, restricting the airflow and causing the boy's eyes to bulge in panic. Flailing his arms out, in an attempt to fight him off, Spencer clawed and pushed at the man on top of him.
Fear and panic were roiling within him as he struggled with the crazed-looking man looming over him. Suddenly, a multitude of jumbled thoughts were flying through his head. He wondered if he would ever see his mother again. Would he die here on this couch, dressed up in trashy clothes and with no one to hold his hand? And where were the agents? They told him he wouldn't be alone. Had they broken their promise? Were they going to abandon him? Would Derek abandon him?
As Spencer felt hot tears spring to his eyes, he was vaguely aware of the sound of what he thought was wood splintering. His ears were buzzing, distorting all the sounds around him. His consciousness was wavering, eyesight growing blurry.
He thought he could hear shouting and commotion—someone that maybe sounded like Derek—but the one thing he was sure of was that the hands around his neck had suddenly tightened and he was terrified that instead of choking the air out of him the man would snap his neck with the sheer force of his grip. Then Spencer heard a loud sound—a pop! Then two more loud pops and he felt something warm and wet spray on his face and the pressure on his neck simultaneously lessening.
Opening his eyes, which he hadn't even known he had squeezed tightly shut, and quickly taking in a huge gulp of air, Spencer saw the man poised above him, face frozen in a grimace of pain and anger. Then the man's eyes slipped shut and he collapsed on top of Spencer. And then everything went black.

"Kid! KID! Open your eyes! Come on! Spencer, open your eyes!" Derek was almost screaming as he patted Spencer's cheek, hoping to revive the unconscious boy.
Derek was near a state of panic as he leaned over Spencer's prostrate body, while Emily and J.J. crowded around him, calling encouragingly out to Spencer as well. Although the boy's face was splattered with the Unsub's spilled blood, Spencer just looked like he was peacefully sleeping. But he wasn't. Spencer wouldn't wake up.
"Medics!" Hotch was yelling behind him, among all the commotion. "Get a medic in here now!"
Derek bowed his head and gripped Spencer's pale shoulders tightly, mentally willing the medics to get here as fast as they could. The only reason why he wasn't currently destroying everything in sight in a blind rage was because he could feel a pulse throbbing at the boy's thin wrist. That was helping him to keep a reign on his emotions. But, Spencer was unconscious and it was scaring him. A person could be alive and brain-dead at the same time. Derek didn't know exactly how long Adrian Moore had been choking Spencer, or what kind of damage the man had been able to do. Even though Derek was sure he had left the van as soon as he was sure Spencer was in trouble, he had no way of knowing whether he had reached the boy in time.
He felt almost suffocated by the thoughts plaguing his mind. Derek didn't know how to think about this rationally. To him, there was no silver-lining to this situation. He knew that the crumpled form of Adrian Moore was lying only a few feet away from them, three bullet holes to the chest. They had succeeded in taking down a prolific serial killer. He should have felt relief, vindication, or some form of accomplishment... But he didn't care about any of that. None of it would mean anything if he ultimately lost Spencer.
"Derek!" Emily said with a gasp, and Derek's head shot up, eyes locked on Spencer's face.
Spencer's eyelids were fluttering and then a second later, Derek was staring down into confused, honey-brown eyes.
"Holy shit, Spencer!" Derek said, with nothing but relief in his voice. "You had us all really scared, kid."
Derek had to hold himself back from enveloping Spencer in a hug, he was so happy.
Spencer coughed lightly and then gave Derek a small smile.
"I did?" he asked sheepishly, voice a bit hoarse.
"Spencer!" J.J. was saying as she pushed her worried face into his line of sight. "Are you ok? How do you feel?"
Spencer coughed again and twisted his body, as if trying to figure out if he was injured in any way. He blushed as he realized he was lying in Derek's arms on what he imagined was the library's floor. But he felt safe and protected where he was, and so he made no attempt to remove himself.
"I think I'm fine… um, I guess I just passed out for a little bit there?" Spencer asked, quietly.
"It felt like an eternity!" Emily said as she came to stand behind the kneeling Derek and J.J.
Spencer looked ashamed to have caused them so much worry.
"Please, don't worry. I'm really ok. I feel fine," Spencer promised, as he looked up at all of them.
Spencer could see that Derek looked far from convinced, and his breath caught a bit in his chest as he took in the man's pained expression. Derek looked especially worried. Spencer wondered if the older man had thought he was going to die.
"Der-" Spencer began but his words were cut off as they heard a number of people shouting 'Medics!' and 'Where are the injured parties?'
Derek gave Spencer a small smile, concern still evident on his face, as J.J. and Emily stepped back out of the way. Then abruptly Spencer's vision was flooded by numerous EMT personnel as they fired off questions to him about his medical condition. Spencer began to feel claustrophobic with all the noisy and unknown people crowding around him. He was suddenly even happier to feel Derek's strong chest behind him. And when he felt the cold press of a stethoscope to his bare chest, he jumped at the shocking sensation and grabbed Derek's shirt. Derek leaned in closer to Spencer, wanting to let the boy know he was there for him.
"Sir, we're going to need you to step back so we can do our job," one of the EMTs began saying to Derek.
Derek felt Spencer's hand close around his own, gripping tightly, and Derek frowned at the EMT who had addressed him.
"I'm not going anywhere without this kid," he said flatly, indifferent to what J.J and Emily would think of his words.
The EMT held Derek's eyes for a moment, and apparently what he saw there was something he didn't think he could win against.
"Fine," the man said with a sigh, as he turned around, putting the stethoscope back in his bag. "Then help me get him on the stretcher."

A/N: Ah! So there we have our Unsub! Revealed and killed off, all in the same chapter, haha! Well, I hope you were happy with his rise and fall! It might have been a bit more anticlimactic than you guys would have hoped for, but I was really ready to get rid of him so Spencer and Derek could just be alone together ;P And, don't worry about poor Spencer. He's totally fine (spoiler? Lol), and good to go for next chapter's 'activities.' ;p
Also, if anyone's thinking Derek's sending hella mixed messages well… haha, I know. He definitely is. But, it's intentional. I think this is all really confusing for him too, so he's going to make some mistakes. His brain's saying one thing but his emotions are saying another. So…it'll be fun to see how Derek works through that in the next (and FINAL!) chapter. Can we say 'smut' anyone? :}
See you soon my loves!
xoxo
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