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Entry tags:	anita blake, criminal minds, dead like me, ficlets

AB Crossover Ficlets --- crossed over with Criminal Minds and Dead Like Me
TITLE: Staying Put
PAIRING: Jason Gideon/Byron (CM/AB), slight allusion to Gideon/Reid (CM)
RATING: pea.gee.xv, maybe a slight arr
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone.
SPOILERS: Beginning of s3 for CM, later books for AB series


Jason Gideon wasn't sure how he ended up where he was. He had been traveling, trying to escape the horrors that his vocation had left him, and he ended up in a place that was both terrifying and arousing at the same time.

At first, he refused to go into those buildings that beckoned to him. At first, his resolve was strong.

But, after a few days in St. Louis, his resolve weakened.

That was how he found himself in a large bed with someone who called himself Byron. Beyond the fangs and flashy attitude there was something there that reminded him of Spencer when they were alone. They weren't related in any way, but there was just something that screamed Spencer in the way Bryon moved. Maybe it was his young body, preserved before he could fully aspire to manhood, or the wide eyes he gave when he was adjusting to his new position in the manacles. But, it was that something that compelled Jason to stay in Byron's room and give the vampire what he wanted.


&&&&

TITLE: Victories and Anniversaries
PAIRING: Gideon/Reid, Gideon/Jean-Claude, Gideon/Reid/Jean-Claude
RATING: arr
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone.
SPOILERS: s3 for CM, earlier books for CB


"C'mon," Gideon said, "Reid, we're getting out of here."

Spencer looked up. His mentor never mentioned plans after the lectures. It was a nice surprise, the genius thought, and he was smiling before he could control his eagerness.

He knew he had a tendency to follow Jason Gideon around like a lovesick puppy if he wasn't careful. He couldn't help it. He was everything Spencer wanted to be---confident, intelligent, but not in a way that made everyone else head for the hills, and he was so warm and open. Spencer didn't know a man could be those qualities until he had met Gideon. His own father hadn't really inspired tenderness, and he had always been so cut off from the outside world and lost in the realm of academia.

But, when he started working with Gideon, everything had begun to change. He took him to other events---art galleries, small concerts in parks, book readings, restaurants and wine tastings---when they were finished with the training lectures he was hired to give to other law enforcement agencies and departments. And Spencer had begun to realise that he would miss their outings if they stopped---and that he looked forward to them for more than an education, because his stomach and pulse were both fluttering every time Gideon looked his way.

That night, as usual, Gideon was leading the way. They left the hotel, they left the relatively normal neighbourhood, and then Gideon plunged into a completely different scene and took Spencer along with him.

As he looked around at the people and strange businesses, Spencer realised that their outing may change his life forever.

He looked at a neon sign that boasted fabulous DJs and dancing and cheap drinks. He tugged on Gideon's arm.

"No dancing, right?"

"Eventually, you're gonna have to learn."

"Gideon, please---"

"We're not doing the dancing tonight," Gideon assured him. He pulled Spencer close to his body; the younger man tried to suppress a shiver. He didn't want Gideon to know what their nights meant to him so he averted his eyes. "We will be watching others dance."

"At that club?"

"No," he replied with an amused smile and a shake of his head. He pointed to another club, whose sign said 'Guilty Pleasures.' "At that one," he added.

Spencer swallowed hard. "B-but it's for girls," he whispered.

"Not if you know the owner and promise to behave," Gideon said in a gruffer voice. "Do you trust me?"

Spencer didn't think that was a fair question. "You know I do," he breathed shakily.

Gideon smiled again. "Good. Come with me."

&&&&

He didn't know what to think.

On one hand, his denied sexuality was screaming to be set free in a place that worshipped some of the finest male specimens in the country---maybe even the world. On the other hand, he was terrified because he didn't know how he should behave or appear and he was so out of his comfort zone that he could barely think straight.

Gideon seemed to be completely at ease. They were sitting along one side, concealed somewhat by the shadows. No woman paid them any attention and Spencer was glad for that. He thought the women in the crowd were completely insane.

Or, he did until a black-haired man in leather pants and a frilly lace shirt climbed the stage and stood in a single spotlight.

The man's voice seemed to caress both his insides and outsides. He was no ordinary human---and his paleness suggested he was of the vampire variety. Spencer was torn between bolting and relaxing. Gideon must have been watching him because he scooted his chair closer to Spencer's and whispered in his ear.

"It's okay," he assured the younger man. "Jean-Claude's a vampire, but he's fairly decent."

"This is your friend?"

"Are you surprised?"

Spencer was glad he was in the shadows so his mentor couldn't see him blush.

&&&&

"Ah, bonsoir, mon guerrier," Jean-Claude said as Spencer and Gideon were ushered into a magificently decorated room. Spencer blushed and thought about turning away before he flinched and remembered how keen a vampire's senses were. The whole building---minus the crazy women in the audience---would have known he was afraid. "Who have you brought me this evening?"

Gideon chuckled after they kissed each other's cheeks. "I didn't bring you anyone, Jean-Claude. You know that already."

The black-haired, blue-eyed vampire smiled but not so much to expose his elongated teeth. "Of course," he conceded. "Your friend is quite lovely, though," he added, as if it were an afterthought.

Spencer blushed more and became increasingly infatuated with the luxurious carpetting underneath his scuffed shoes.

"You're going to make him more nervous," Gideon commented. "He's already thought about bolting five times since being here."

Jean-Claude took one step towards the youngest man. "You did not like my dancers?"

Spencer's eyes widened but he didn't look directly into the vampire's blue gaze. He knew the rules when dealing with the Vitamin-D-deprived. "N-no, I thought they were all... um... very nice," he told the male in front of him. "Really."

"Thank you for being honest," Jean-Claude told him. "You may meet my eyes, petit agneau, for I won't roll you tonight."

"Promise?"

"I do not usually give such assurances to men I have met only moments ago, but tonight, I will."

Gideon squeezed his arm. Spencer looked up and found himself looking into dark blue eyes framed by the thickest eyelashes he had ever seen.

&&&&

"He trusts you," Jean-Claude said after two tumblers of scotch were delivered to the office. He spoke as if it didn't matter Spencer was with them.

Gideon nodded. "He does. I don't abuse that trust."

"Yet, you brought him here."

The older man flinched. "He needs to get out and see more. Marcus forbid me from the Lunatic Café and I wanted to see you and some of the rest of the pack," he explained. "I didn't think Raina would be here tonight, after... the bargain Niko---"

Jean-Claude hissed and Gideon stopped talking. Spencer watched in astonishment as Gideon slid off of the sofa and sat at the vampire's feet. "I apologise," he whispered, "master."

Spencer was fairly certain he had hit his head hours ago and was in a coma, suffering from vivid dreams and some sort of brain bleeding.

&&&&

"I am not your true master," Jean-Claude said with a roll of his eyes. "If she suspected---"

"You are because I want you to be. Not because you have forced my hand and made me your animal to call." Gideon's voice was firmer. "I serve you because when Marcus sent me to your kiss as food, you took better care of me than that, and you never abused me the way others had been."

Jean-Claude smiled and stroked his pale fingers against Gideon's cheekbone. "And now, you are a member of the federal agency for which packs across the country bow their rules to. You may go anywhere you please, as long as you travel under the pretense of work. Yet, you choose to return here. Pourquoi?"

"Is it a crime to want to check in on you?" Gideon asked quietly.

"You could have called."

"It's not the same."

"Oui, je sais," Jean-Claude agreed. "It is more dangerous. Raina is still alligned with Gabriel. The wereleopards will become their weapons of torture---not the torturers themselves. The rats are growing weary and Nikolaos is enjoying her role as their master. Marcus is taking in more wolves, which would benefit me if I could stand to be in the Ulfric's presence... and my moment in the future will pass by if I cannot see where to put my chess pieces in the next few months. Yet, you come to visit."

Gideon actually blushed. He ducked his head and pressed his forehead to Jean-Claude's leather-clad leg.

"I needed to see you. I knew it would start to happen soon, the way you dreamed... but I needed to see you beforehand."

"If I do this... and fail, you will never see me again," Jean-Claude said, brushing through Gideon's thinning hair. "If I do this and succeed, you fear returning because of who and what I will become?" he asked.

Gideon shook his head. "No... I just... I..."

"Are you so afraid I will fail?"

"You can't do this on your own."

Jean-Claude nodded. "Mon guerrier, I know this already. I am making arrangements."

&&&&

Spencer interrupted them. The whole situation was entirely too weird. He wasn't sure what was going on. Gideon was a werewolf? But the lycanthrope laws and discrimination---how did he hide from his superiors? How did he keep it off of his health records? And he was in love with, or just subserviant to, a vampire that seemed to be gearing up for a dangerous battle?

"We have been rude," Jean-Claude reminded Gideon. "Your boy seems perplexed."

"Perplexed, good one. A vampire who cracks jokes... just great."

Jean-Claude chuckled and the sound of his laughter washed over him and made his insides twist into knots. Spencer actually moaned under the sensation.

"Of course, I 'crack jokes,' petit agneau," he said, "because with everything that has happened in my life, I need to remember the better things. I need to keep my sanity."

"How long have you been alive?" Spencer asked before he could stop himself.

Jean-Claude's smile stretched; the young would-be profiler caught a glimpse of fangs. "I was born centuries before today, petit agneau. Time is an endless stretch." He tilted his head, sighed, and then said, "Of course, in a few months, that stretch could be cut short."

"Jean-Claude---"

"You brought your boy here to force yourself to be honest with him," the vampire said. "I applaud your efforts. If he will see past the lies of the public outcry, you will be very lucky." A wistful expression seemed to haunt his face. "I was lucky once... I wish for you to have such luck." When Gideon opened his mouth, Jean-Claude put a finger to his lips. "Do not argue with me, for you proclaimed me master."

Spencer tried to make his voice work. He wanted to jump up and disrupt their conversation, distract them from finishing it... anything. He didn't think he had ever been so flushed, flattered, and frightened, simultaneously. Jean-Claude was implying that Gideon thought of him as more than a protegé. He should be thrilled, that much he knew; but, he wasn't sure how to override the fear chilling his insides.

Gideon turned to look at him. His eyes were still dark, still perfect, but there was a flash of something... something wilder. Spencer couldn't believe that he had missed so much when he was training to be a profiler.

&&&&

"Do you want to feed?" Gideon asked quietly.

Jean-Claude frowned. He nodded as he spoke. "I do, however, my master has forbid me to feed directly."

Spencer's brow furrowed. "How do you feed if you can't drink blood?"

"Oh, I can drink blood. He is not referring to blood, although I would not turn that away, either." Jean-Claude leaned back in his chair and smoothed some of the lace frills of his collar. "I am an incubus, petit agneau, do you know what that means?"

Normally, he would list off a definition and several popular opinions. His throat was too dry, so he nodded.

"I feed off of desire. It used to be for me... created by me. Now, I am forced to feed from a distance." He waved a pale hand around briefly. "I selected this as my first business, for obvious reasons."

"So you have more to feed on," Spencer said quietly.

"Exactement."

"Did you feed on Gideon?"

Jean-Claude grinned wolfishly. "Oh, I do like him, mon guerrier," he purred, both feline and canine all in one moment. "Timid... but... like a sharp blade."

Gideon chuckled. "He's a genius," he said, as if he were bragging. "But, he's a lot more than that."

Spencer swallowed a lump that had someone lodged itself in his throat. "I am?" he asked, his voice whimpering a little.

Both men nodded and the youngest male in the room was left feeling a little like prey, too exposed to maintain his safety.

&&&&

He would have followed Gideon across the world, over hot coals, or anywhere else where his life or sensibilities could be in peril. Even after learning that he wasn't completely human, he still would have followed the man anywhere because he trusted him more than he had ever allowed himself to trust anyone else.

The rest of the night was blurs and tastes and scents and sounds. Spencer had surrendered to Gideon, simply because he asked, and he was being well-rewarded for his moment of bravery.

Jean-Claude was watching, his shirt open, his eyes midnight blue and bright, and his hand lingering near a cross-shaped burn on his chest. Spencer found that once he got past the initial nervousness of being with the one man he held in higher esteem than all others, he felt safe and cherished with both of them in the room. He had never explored too far 'outside the lines,' and Gideon seemed to believe that as long as everyone agreed beforehand, it didn't matter what they did together.

The vampire fed from their desire and their coupling, from a distance. Then, he pulled Gideon close and claimed he was licking traces of Spencer off of his warrior's skin. A few minutes later, Jean-Claude was asking Spencer if he would like to taste himself, combined with the werewolf's flavour, and before the youngest man could figure out how to respond to that question, Jean-Claude was kissing him and Spencer could taste them both. He remembered whimpering into Jean-Claude's mouth and squeezing Gideon's hand...

...and then, everything blurred.

&&&&

Epilogue, a few years later...

"Hey, Reid!"

He looked up and found himself watching Derek Morgan as he bounded across the room.

If there was ever a wereleopard... Spencer mused.

"Y'know, Hotch is trying to find out who sent you those flowers," Morgan said as motioned towards the bouquet of roses on his desk. "You get them the same time, every year since you started as a rookie with Gideon at the BAU. He's convinced you have some sort of stalker."

There were a dozen roses, and Morgan was correct in saying he received them once a year, every year, since Gideon took him under his wing. Nine were white roses. Three were red roses. They were always delivered at night---marking the time he spent in St. Louis. There was also always a package.

Usually, it was a book---but a first edition, and usually printed in France, something from Jean-Claude's own collection that was first started when books became fashionable. He hadn't opened that year's package yet. With Gideon gone---without anyone else to share the memories---he wanted to rush through it, but he wasn't sure if he should.

"Are you gonna open the box?" Morgan asked.

Spencer eyed the parcel. He had come to recognise the writing on the brown paper as the vampire's and he knew it was written in ink and with a nibbed pen. Jean-Claude didn't like regular pens; he had said in one of their letters that he detested the ballpoint pens everyone seemed so enamoured with because they lacked character. Spencer agreed with him but on the job, he didn't have time to set up a pen and ink well to jot down notes for a profile.

"Maybe..."

"Oh, c'mon. If you open it and it's harmless, we can tell Hotch to chill out."

The younger man smiled a bit. Morgan had a point. He could always take his gifts home and savour them later.

"Alright, alright, I'll open it."

He used a letter opener to carefully peel the paper away from the box. He ignored Morgan's sighs of impatience and took time to enjoy the moment for himself. Under the thick brown wrapping paper, there was a dark blue box that was similar in colour to Jean-Claude's eyes. He lifted the lid and peered inside.

There was a brown envelope with the phrase 'Do not open this at work, petit agneau' scripted across its front. He set that aside and lifted a veil of tissue paper.

A copy of the St. Louis Post Dispatch sat on a bed of navy paper. He smiled as soon as he read the headline.

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH NEW MASTER

"Who sent you that?"

Spencer grinned. He held up the newspaper and read the headline over again. He was pleased... and oddly proud of Jean-Claude.

"Reid, c'mon... tell me what's going on. Why is this important?"

The younger profiler said nothing. He grinned up at Morgan and put both the newspaper and envelope into the box with the wrapping paper. He put the lid down on the box, made sure it was closed, and then he sat down in his chair.

"Not cool, Reid."

Spencer chuckled quietly and leaned in to smell the roses on his desk. He lost himself in a few memories, and then Hotch shook him from his thoughts with the prospect of a case.

THE END.


&&&&

TITLE: When a Soul Goes Bad
PAIRING: None, but Dead Like Me/AB-verse crossover
RATING: pea.gee, maybe.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone!
SPOILERS: DLM Pilot, general AB
NOTES: Inspired by this exchange in DLM: RUBE: Her fate was seeled the moment she stepped onto that train, her soul expired, you know what happens if you keep a soul around after it's time? // GEORGE: No // RUBE: Same thing that happens to milk, spoils, goes bad. Souls goes bad in all kinds of ways // GEORGE: But... // RUBE: If you are having trouble comprehending the severity of the situation. Why don't you consult webster's on the definition of bad. If you don't take her soul it's going to wither and die and rot inside her, I've seen it happen. Do you wish to condemn her to that?


He knew too well what happened when a soul goes bad.

To this day, he didn't know what possessed him to 'change fate,' as George continued to try to do. The man---R. A. Zeeman---showed up for his appointment and Rube looked at him, saw him dressed in his hiking gear, and just knew the world needed that man. In all his years, he had never learned what could happen if he interferes with an appointment---his first mentor/boss had told him that it had to be done, so he did it. Death was clean, quick, easy, and not his wheelhouse. Death would always happen and he simply shuffled the souls to their next stop. He was important, he believed, so he did the job.

But when he saw R. A. Zeeman... grinning and laughing with a woman that was so petite and pale and just as covered in mud as he was... he knew he couldn't do it. He saw the little creatures hissing and cackling and doing something around what looked like a small power grid, he interfered. He distracted them away from the path they were intending to take and he managed to use his body to point them in another direction while asking them to help him navigate his map of the wooded trails.

The higher-ups had not been pleased with him and every once and a while, they sent Rube a reminder of his error. He received memos and photographic evidence... just enough, so he could see that R. A. Zeeman was drowning. He was falling apart and becoming more erratic.

And it was all his fault.

He felt a little guilty for laying into George the way he did, but she needed to know. She needed to learn... and without admitting his mistake, he didn't know how to do that.