Spencer smiled in his sleep as lips softly touched to his. His whole body relaxed at the safety and protectiveness implied in the gesture, but he didn't wake. The kisser smiled slightly as he pulled away to commandeer a chair next to the bed, knowing that his body had shielded the action from the others entering the room.

"Is he gonna be ok?" a woman's voice muttered worriedly on the other side of the room, making him look up from his study of Spencer's face.

"He'll be fine," he said in a gentle but determined voice.

"Who are you, anyway? You whispered something to the doctor and he let you in. We're his friends, but who the hell are you?"

"You would think that an FBI profiler would be smart enough to realize that if the doctor let me in based on a whisper, it must be a pretty good reason," he said, his voice sharp and ironic. He held out a hand. "I'm Sam Wesson."

"Derek Morgan."

"Penelope Garcia." Sam nodded to both of them, figuring that if they were good enough friends to be in Spencer's hospital room while he was unconscious, he should probably try to get along with them.

"So, you going to tell me what happened? All I know is that he said he was being taken to the hospital." They exchanged glances.

"I think we should let him tell it," Morgan said cautiously. Sam just nodded.

"Fair enough. I would want the same if it were me."

"Somehow, I doubt you would get into a situation like this." Sam smirked to himself, thinking of some of the hi-jenks he and his brother had gotten up to before Dean bit the dust.

"You'd be surprised." He folded his fingers together and stared at them, wishing they were somewhere besides a hospital so that at least he could clean a gun or something to have something to do with them. Spencer shifting on the bed was loud in the air-conditioned silence.

"No," he muttered, writhing. "No, don't-" Sam brushed a hand over his forehead before Morgan could get to him to wake him. Sam was murmuring something, too softly to be understood, but it was soothingly rhythmic, and Spencer settled down again quickly.

"Not the first time I've had nightmare watch," he explained at Morgan's questioning look. "At least he doesn't hit me when I touch him." He watched Spencer for a while in silence. "You should get some sleep. I'll be up until he wakes anyway." He nodded towards the other bed. "You can take the bed if you don't want to leave." He sure as hell wasn't going to sleep without Spencer awake to protect him from overly curious FBI. He'd made sure that everything on him said Sam Wesson, but still. They were the FBI. He'd always had a fear of the FBI, rivaled only by a childhood fear of the DHS people. Luckily, though, Dean had never found out about either fear, or he would have teased him like he did about his fear of clowns.

Spencer opened his eyes slowly. Judging by the scent, he was in a hospital. He hated hospitals; they reminded him of his mother, and made him feel guilty. He smiled when he saw the tired face looking down on him, though. Looking around, he saw Morgan sleeping in a chair, and Garcia on the bed opposite him, also asleep.

"Hey, Spence," Sam whispered tenderly. Spencer raised a hand cautiously and cupped his cheek, guiding him in for a kiss. "We've been worried about you."

"Turnabout's fair play, Sam. I worry about you." Sam sighed.

"You know why I don't stay. I can't. He haunts me more than anything I've ever seen in this life." Spencer just sighed. They sat in silence for a while.

"You should get some sleep," Spencer said finally. "You stayed up all night watching over me, didn't you?" Sam nodded unapologetically.

"It's your turn for nightmare watch," he said. Spencer just nodded, having expected it. Sam had nightmares more often than not anymore. "But I can wait until you get out of here." He glanced around. "I don't like hospitals. I don't sleep well in them. Never have." Spencer nodded again, reaching over to hit the nurse call button.

"Could I get someone to come talk about me going home?" he asked when the impatient nurse finally answered the call. Sam could hear her rolling her eyes as she replied. "Great. Thanks."

"Don't thank her. She shouldn't take that tone for making her do her job."

"But if I piss her off, she'll only do her job worse," Spencer replied philosophically. Sam shrugged.

"Well, you're the one in the bed, not me."

"Not my choice. You should be in bed." Sam rolled his eyes. Morgan sat the chair up, dark eyes watching them cautiously. "Good morning, Morgan."

"Morning, Reid. How you feelin'?"

"There's a nurse on the way to talk about me getting out of here. How long is Hotch going to make me stay home?" Morgan shrugged.

"Depends on what the doc says. But probably a couple of days; maybe a week." Spencer nodded, unsurprised. Stuffy he might act, but Hotch was a bit of a mother hen at times, worrying about the rest of them.

"Hotch is your boss, right?" Spencer nodded.

"Agent Aaron Hotchner. Best boss I could ask for." Sam smiled.

"You still love your job?"

"You know, I see something new every day. And you've got to admire the creativity of the human mind, that things that on the surface seem so similar, can have so much variation. Like kidnapping. No two people kidnap for the same reasons, or commit the deed in the same manner. There's an infinite progression of possibilities. It's a challenge, figuring out the case, being smarter than the unsub."

"So I take it that's a yes, you still love your job." Spencer nodded. "Because if you get tired of it, you know Ellen and Bobby would both be happy to have you." Spencer made a face, and Sam laughed. "Not what I meant, silly. Though it might be accurate with Ellen, at least. I don't think Bobby's into that." Morgan raised an eyebrow at the innuendo that Spencer had apparently picked up. The kid was notorious for missing them.

Sam's eyes drifted shut for a second before he snapped them open again. Spencer laughed softly. "How long you been awake now, Sam?" Sam blushed slightly, knowing he'd been caught.

"Almost 36 hours," he replied after a moment of thought. "Don't worry about me, Spence."

"Staying awake 36 hours isn't healthy," the nurse said as she walked in. Sam grinned at her.

"Well, let him out, and I promise to go sleep," he bargained. She smiled, looking like it escaped despite her best efforts. She moved around the bed, checking numbers on machines, shining a flashlight into his eyes, which he grudgingly endured, checking his blood pressure. She looked up and smiled.

"As far as I can see, you're good to go," she said cheerfully. "I'll just let the doctor know. He always makes his rounds in the morning, so it won't be long." Sam snorted.

"Oh, how many times I've heard that," he muttered to Spencer, who laughed shortly.

"You can sleep here. I'm awake now." Sam shook his head.

"No, that's ok. Don't worry; I can go for 52 before it even starts to effect my driving."

"All the same, I'm driving once we get out of here." Sam laughed.

"D would be horrified, I'm sure," he said. "Me letting a stranger drive his baby."

"I'm not a stranger!" Spencer exclaimed. Sam shrugged.

"As far as he's concerned, you are."

"D?" Morgan asked, drawing their attention back to him. Sam shrugged.

"My brother, Devon," he said glibly. "He died a while back."

"I'm sorry," Morgan said, looking as though he was afraid he was stepping into a sensitive subject. Sam shrugged again, more casually this time.

"You didn't know. It's only natural to be curious." He stood, moving to the bathroom, either because he needed to go or to escape their eyes, neither were sure. The doctor had showed up by the time he came back out. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but didn't say anything. Spencer was chattering rapidly with the doctor, and from the looks on Morgan and Garcia's faces none of the three of them were even trying to follow the conversation. Sam caught Spencer's eye as he came back out, but leaned casually against the wall waiting for the doctor's verdict.

"There's no reason you can't leave," the doctor said finally. "I mostly wanted you to stay overnight for observation and to make sure the drug worked its way out of your system safely." Sam's eyes widened and he looked at Spencer pointedly. Spencer looked down, refusing to meet his eye. "But you seem to have processed most of it out already, which is remarkable for the quantity you told me of." Spencer nodded. Morgan stood, pulling out his cell phone as he headed towards the door.

Spencer's check-out was sped up to a degree that seemed ridiculous to Sam, who had been in more than his fair share of hospitals all his life and was used to their usual operation.

"I'm FBI," Spencer said, catching his look, which made Morgan and Garcia turn to look at them. "It's not very fair, but I suppose they want me out of here and back to catching bad guys as quickly as possible." Sam cracked a smile.

"That and they probably thought that if they kept us long enough, either dad or D would show symptoms of whatever mental disorder they'd decided they had." He shrugged at Spencer's look. "It usually was dad or D. They thought I was an angel, most of the time." They started walking to the Impala. "And anyway, I think you owe me a story, Spence. How'd you land yourself in the hospital, anyway?" Spencer sighed.

"Can we get to the car first? I don't- I don't want anyone to overhear," he said uncertainly. Sam raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"Sure, Spence." He wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist, drawing him close, and was surprised that Spencer didn't immediately pull away. He must really be in need of comfort. He pushed the thinner man's back gently against the Impala, leaning into him and kissing him softly. Spencer sighed, his muscles relaxing as he moved to wrap his arms around Sam's waist, his fingers twisting in his shirt under his jacket.

The moment was rudely interrupted by Garcia shrieking in startlement. "Garcia!" Morgan called, moving quickly towards them, only to freeze upon seeing Garcia frozen in shock being glared at by the two men, who hadn't moved more than to turn their heads towards her. Finally, Morgan grinned.

"So, is that why you're always so nervous talking to girls?"