Author's Notes: I thought I'd try my hand at a multi-chapter. Although the idea for this story has been rattling around in my brain for quite some time, it is my first Criminal Minds fic. So, please be gentle. I've decided to keep the chapters relatively short so that I can update quicker.

This story is rated M, mostly for language and later slash. Also, please be forewarned if you find depictions of Mental Illness in fiction offensive.

**I do not own Criminal Minds or its associated characters.**

"No man is happy without a delusion of some kind. Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities." -Christian Nevell Bovee

"Nothing to say, Dr. Reid?"

He was being baited. He knew he was being baited, and he wouldn't give them what they wanted this time.

"No profound quotes or quirky witticisms?"

The semi-darkened room echoed with mocking laughter.

"Not even a random statistic?"

A movement out of his peripheral vision brought his attention to the third figure in the room.

"The day is done, and tonight I long for rest."

"I know, but I want to stay awake a while longer, see if he breaks tonight."

Spencer stayed silent throughout this exchange. At this point, he knew that there was no talking his way out of the situation. Everything he'd said had only served to make matters worse. He had given these two enough weapons to use against him. At times like these, the ghost of Gideon would rise up to haunt him.

'You don't need a gun to kill somebody.'

Gideon with his arms-length affection, always there with his cryptic advice and a fatherly pat on the shoulder. Gideon with that all-knowing smile that hadn't struck him as obnoxious until years after the man was gone. Gideon who was indeed gone. Not dead- No. That would be too final, too clean. He had simply left. They always left. He found patterns for a living, and he hadn't seen that coming? Some genius.

"You look pensive, Dr. Reid. A penny for your thoughts? No?"

The man sat before Spencer's chair, cross-legged on the floor and smiled up into the carefully blank face.

"Now, I know I'm no profiler, but I'm willing to bet I know just what's running through that head of yours. Mind if I take a stab at it?" He laughed darkly with true amusement.

The woman sat up abruptly in the bed, her voice taking on an exasperated tone as she repeated her request.

"Quit, quit for shame! The learned is happy nature to explore. The fool is happy that he knows no more. The rich is happy in the plenty given. The poor-"

She halted and glared when her rant was disrupted by more laughter. Composing herself, she stated calmly and with a thinly veiled threat in her tone, "Sleep will come when thou art fled."

"Okay, okay. I get the point. I'll be quiet and let you get your beauty rest. Just let us finish this one conversation. I think Spencer was about to open up to me."

She flopped back onto the pillow and grumbled wearily, "I am defenseless utterly. I slept, methinks, and woke. And slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep."

The man looked away from his companion and up into hazel eyes.

"Now, where were we?"

Spencer refused to blink or look away, and in the back of his mind he thought 'Hotch would be proud.' He thought of his Unit Chief then, of all they had accomplished and overcome as a team with that unmoving rock that was Aaron Hotchner to ground them. He was a constant: an unchanging, unshakable force that could not always be predicted but could always be trusted. And Spencer did trust him. He'd been forced to trust him when he'd first joined the B.A.U. and met the man who would order their lives to a large extent. He'd chosen to trust him to deliver him from the very hands of Death, clinging to that strong fortress as the dirt from his own grave still clung to his clothes. A modern day Lazarus. He'd learned to trust the man all over again in the following months. That knowing look and forbidding stare cutting straight to the heart of his anger and anxiety. That firm hand briefly clasping his shoulder months later, the sincere and unspoken "Well done. I'm proud of you. Don't give in." when he'd needed it the most.

"There really is no such thing as an atheist, is there?"

The sheer absurdity of the non sequitur caused Reid to blink himself out of memories long past.

"Touch a nerve, Dr. Reid?" the man smirked.

"According to 2004 polling data, between three and nine percent of the population of North America self-identified as atheists. A 2008 study found that there were about 34.2 million Americans, roughly 15 percent of the population who claimed to hold no religious beliefs. To say that Atheism doesn't exist is- "

"While I'm happy to hear you break your little silent protest," he spoke over Reid, "I didn't say that Atheism doesn't exist. What I said was that there are no atheists."

Reid pondered the semantics being used and was loath to admit that he couldn't decisively say what the statement meant.

"Alright," he nodded slowly. "My mistake. Please explain."

The upturned face broke into a huge grin.

"Well, Dr. Reid, I'm glad you asked."

He stretched his legs out from their crossed position and leaned back on his hands, head tilted and eyes shining.

"Atheism, as I'm sure you know, isn't just the denial of the existence of God. It is the unbelief in any power higher than oneself, than man as a whole. The assertion that there is nothing and no one watching over us, guiding our steps. That we are all just wandering along, doing the best we can in this bastard child of Time and Chance that we call the universe."

The man's expression was entirely too serene, and Spencer tried not to be just a little annoyed.

"I don't think that's the actual definition, but the general concept is correct."

"Of course it is. I would never say something to you that didn't make sense. You should know that by now." He smiled widely. "But I digress. The simple truth is that the purely scientific explanation to the origins of the universe creates one of four distinct types of individual. First, there are those who reject The Big Bang Theory, The Theory of Evolution, and virtually every other 'Theory' that doesn't fit into established religious doctrine.

"There are those who accept much, if not most of the scientific data on the origins and evolution of the universe but are honest enough to admit that science can only explain so much. Now, they may or may not profess belief in a specific deity or deities, but they believe in some higher power that could be classified as supernatural.

"The third type, in my opinion has the potential to be the most dangerous. Some of these people automatically refuse to entertain any suggestion of an explanation that can be construed as other than scientific and/or natural; and others have looked at the evidence, counted the tallies, and after much thought and deliberation, come to the conclusion that there is no God."

Reid had to interject at this point.

"And how is that more dangerous than any other stance? How is it more dangerous to rely more on facts and research than superstition and lore about a worldwide amalgamative pantheon that no one has been able to prove the existence of in the thousands of years that humans have been capable of pondering such things?"

Unaffected by the outburst, the man resumed his cross-legged position, grasping his ankles as he rocked excitedly a few times, like a child at story time. His eyes were wide and sparkling with mirth as he gleefully exclaimed, "Oh, I do love a good debate!"

They talked for hours, and Spencer was more than a little surprised to find someone as well-read as himself in any subject that didn't have a purely pop-cultural basis. The man pointed out the Caligulas and the Mengeles of history, the horrors of genocide, and the modern eugenics movement. Spencer countered easily with religiously motivated ethic cleansing, the Muslim and Christian roles in the Crusades, and the Hindu Caste system that affected so many millions to this day. In the end, they reached a stalemate of sorts, and there was a silence between them. Spencer's head lolled back, eyes closed against the light of the coming day that flooded the room. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, fighting off the inevitable headache.

"What's that, Dr. Reid?" the man asked tiredly from his supine position where he had begun to doze on the floor.

Spencer opened his eyes briefly, not realizing that he had spoken. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes once more as he mumbled, "Caligula wasn't an atheist, anyway. The Romans were polytheists. That point was invalid."

A weary chuckle follow by the sleep slurred, "You never give up, do you Doc?"

Spencer found himself laughing, truly laughing, for the first time in what seemed like years.

"No. I suppose I don't." He frowned then. "As a matter of fact, this entire debate was fruitless. Your original position was that there are no atheists. You never reached a satisfactory conclusion."

"I never reached a conclusion at all. I still have my fourth point to cover and a few clarifications to make on some previous statements. Like I said, I'd never tell you something that doesn't make sense. You can trust me on that. But for now, it's late… or early. We should both get some rest."

TBC…

Comments and constructive criticisms are most welcome.