A/N : Okay, for all fans of The Price Of Living, I've hit a MAJOR writers block in my series. I know what I've written, I know what the end is going to be. I'm just having trouble getting from point A to point C. You know? So any feedback and/or comments and/or suggestions would be GREATLY appreciated. Thanks so much. This story goes out to a friend who thought I should try doing a Spencer slash fic. I don't know if it's going to go all that well, but here goes nothing. This one's for you, doll face.

Disclaimer : I don't own Criminal Minds, but I do own Amy Vaughn. =D Yay me. Lol.

As usual, it was early in the morning when Dr. Spencer Reid walked into the bullpen of the BAU office in Quantico, Virginia; much too early for the others to have already come in from what could be a good nights' sleep. Yawning to himself and setting down his small bag on his desk, Reid scanned through the files and papers on his desk, checking for what needed to be done and making a mental note of those that couldn't wait. With that in mind, Reid methodically moved over to the coffee machine, needing something for his nerves after last night.

The dreams were back.

Or rather; nightmares. Of course, they were nothing new; just the same torture sessions Tobias had inflicted upon him. But new or old, the nightmares were starting to keep him up late and wake him up early again. Sighing, Reid closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them and raising the now full cup of coffee to his lips and taking a swig, feeling the molten liquid scorch his tongue and throat on its way down. Turning around and starting to move back to his desk, Reid realized that there were voices coming from Gideon's office.

'Strange,' he thought. 'Last time I checked the clock it was around six. Why would Gideon be here this early…?'

Despite Reid's better thoughts to just move back to his desk and get started, leaving Gideon alone to do whatever it is he was doing, Reid found that his curiosity got the better of him, and his legs were already moving past the desk. Halfway to the office, however, Reid realized that there were two voices instead of just one. Of course, one of the voices was Gideon's; how could he ever forget the voice of the man who had been so much like the father he'd never had? But the other voice was a different story; Reid didn't recognize the female voice at all.

Nearing the office with his cup of coffee still in hand, Reid simply leaned close to the door, able to hear the conversation floating out of the room since the door was opened a crack.

"So… what am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go? They don't want me anymore, and… and… I just can't go back. Don't you understand?" the female voice said in a rush.

"Yes, I understand. A member of my team, Hotchner, he's a lawyer. He could help you…" Reid heard Gideon offer, but then the woman spoke again, cutting him off,

"But this Hotchner isn't you! I need YOU to help me, grandpa!"

And upon hearing that, Reid's coffee that he'd just taken a sip of was sprayed out in front of him gracelessly before he could stop his reaction. The conversation in Gideon's office came to an abrupt halt, and before Reid could scurry away, the door was yanked open and Gideon was standing in front of Reid's seemingly shrinking form.

"Reid? What are you doing here this early?" Gideon asked, but Reid had already spoken at the same time, saying,

"Did she just call you 'grandpa'?"

Gideon was silent for a moment, but after a few seconds he finally said softly,

"Yes she did, but I'm not technically family. She was supposed to be one of the victims of my earlier cases, but I got to her in time to save her. Her other family, however…" he trailed off slightly, and Reid could imagine what Gideon had been about to say.

Sighing heavily, Gideon turned around to face the woman who was sitting on his desk, staring at the both of them, and this gave Reid the perfect view of her form. The first thing that caught Spencer's attention was the fact that the young woman was wearing worn out, brown army boots that seemed too big for her feet. She was wearing tight, black-denim jeans that were tucked into said boots, but an over sized dark blue tee-shirt with a silver dragon covering the front of it. Her hair, which cascaded down to the small of her back in a burning red, -so red it could have only been dyed,- seemed slightly wet in some places, and stuck to her face which was slightly sweaty, and much paler than the rest of her body, which was amazingly pale as well.

Turquoise eyes stared at Reid hostilely, as if he were an enemy, but the longer Reid looked at her eyes, it seemed as if she were wearing blue contacts over green eyes. But why would she do that…?

"Reid," Gideon finally said, turning so that he could face both Reid and the woman. "This is Amy Vaughn. Amy, this is Dr. Spencer Reid; one of my agents."

"U-um…" Reid stammered before switching his cup of coffee to his left hand and extending his right hand to Amy, who was still sitting on Gideon's desk. "Hi…"

But those strange eyes continued to glare at him before she raised a hand she'd held clenched against the desk. But instead of taking the hand that Reid had offered her, she simply held it out for him to look at, and Reid almost literally jumped back in surprise. There were only splotches of it, but Reid knew blood when he saw it. The blood was dried, caked almost, in her knuckles, under her fingernails, and in the creases in the palm of her hand. Reid's eyes flew back to Amy's eyes, but they continued to glare at him, if anything even more hostilely than before, like she'd been expecting that reaction.

Then she turned back to Gideon, saying softly, though there was an edge to her voice Spencer hadn't heard in it before,

"I'm not going back, grandpa."

"I don't expect you to. I know it didn't happen without a reason, Amy." he paused, then added as if on an after thought, "You can stay here with the team. Maybe even do a few cases with us; I'm sure you'd make a good agent."

Amy's eyes darted around the office for a few seconds before coming to rest back on Reid, and the young genius backed up a step, green eyes locking with abnormal turquoise ones. Then finally, Amy moved herself off Gideon's desk with amazing ease and grace, Reid wondered if she'd done it several times before. Shoving her hands into the folds of her over large shirt, she mumbled to Gideon as she passed him,

"I'm going to go wash up…" and then she was gone, brushing by Reid quickly without ever coming close to him.

Taking another sip of his coffee, using the few moments of silence it gave him to think about what he'd just seen and heard, Reid watched Gideon from the corner of his eye as the older man moved over to where Amy had sat on his desk, and shake his head. Then, leaning against that same desk, Gideon turned his attention toward the window, the blinds having already been opened, letting the very early morning light sneak in through the glass.

Reid hesitated a moment longer before asking softly,

"What did she do…?"

Gideon's answer was immediate.

"She didn't do anything, Spencer."

Ignoring the use of his first name, Reid continued,

"She must have done something…! H-her hands were covered with blood, you were t-talking about Hotch being a lawyer and-"

"Amy had to kill a man, yes, but it was out of self-defense." Gideon interrupted, which silenced Reid effectively. "And now, the town that she'd been living in until now thinks that she's snapped. That her mental state has become worse and they were going to shoot her without so much as a trial. So she came to me."

Gideon sighed, obviously at a loss for words then, and Reid felt bad about his outburst.

"I-I'm sorry… I… I didn't know."

Gideon shook his head again, but this time his attention was drawn through the open door, where Amy had just exited the bathroom and was wandering around the bullpen, headphones in her ears and blasting some kind of rock song that she was walking to the rhythm of. Reid couldn't quite place it, but there was something about this woman that just didn't seem normal. 'But then again,' Reid thought to himself. 'Nothing in this life is ever "Normal," is it?'

* * *

Phillip Johnson stood over the dead body of his brother as the medics tried to figure out how they were going to lift his body out of the ravine, where Amy Vaughn had dumped it. 'Probably in the hopes no one would find it before she got away clean,' Phillip scoffed to himself. Turning around in a rage, his anger showing in his clenched and shaking hands, Phillip stomped off to his old truck, slamming the door behind him as he slid gracelessly into the torn seat.

Turning the key in the ignition, the motor roared to life, the headlights casting a bright light on the expanse of woods in front of him. Placing the truck in reverse, Phillip backed away from the rarely used country road, certain he knew exactly where Amy would go after this. After all, there was only one place that she'd claimed she'd wanted to be these past few months.

Quantico, Virginia.