Title: Sleep Comes Down
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Spencer Reid
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Spencer Reid, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Spencer turned over and banged his fist into the pillow, cursing his inability to sleep. It didn't happen often, and usually, he was able to sit and read for a while until he was tired enough to sleep, devouring entire books in one night.

But tonight, even that didn't appeal to him as it usually did. The only thing he wanted was to have Greg in his arms, to feel that slender body against his own, to know that Greg was beside him. He wanted to get on a plane to Vegas immediately. This very second.

If he kept thinking about Greg, sleep would be impossible. The last thing he needed was to lie here wakeful all night; they had another case that they would be looking at in the morning, and he would more than likely have to leave DC for another state shortly after that.

He almost hated his job at the moment; it was the main thing that kept him away from Greg. He had tried to make his boyfriend feel that their separation wouldn't be that bad, but he hadn't thought that he would yearn for Greg the way he did.

He had known that the other man had an effect on him unlike anyone else, but he hadn't realized that his feelings for Greg had grown so much in the short time that they'd had together. He was ready to give up everything in his life to be with the man he loved.

Spencer scowled as he turned over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. If this was how he was going to feel every night that he was away from Greg, then he wasn't going to be much good to the BAU. He might have to quit, at this rate.

No, he wasn't going to do that. Greg wouldn't want him to. He knew that his boyfriend didn't care for the way that they had to be separated because of their respective jobs, but he wouldn't want either of them to give up doing what they loved.

Besides, he was good at what he did. He didn't want to leave the BAU, any more than Greg wold want to leave the crime lab he worked for. So they had to make this work, even though the distance that separated them seemed unbearable at the moment.

All he could do was lie here and wait for sleep to come down, hope that it would envelop him and that his dreams wouldn't wake him before he had to get up to go to the office. He almost didn't want to go; there were other places he would rather be.

With Greg. In Vegas. In the apartment that he now thought of as being partially his own, simply because the man he'd fallen in love with lived there. He had never felt so comfortable in any other place, even in this apartment that was his home here in DC.

Sleep wasn't going to come easily tonight. Spencer lay there for a few more minutes, then sighed and kicked the covers back, getting up and reaching for his cell phone on the bedside table. He should call Greg; his boyfriend wouldn't be asleep yet.

Or would he? Spencer hesitated before he turned the phone on, then slowly replaced it on the table. Greg might be working for the escort service; he had said that he was going to stop doing it, but that he should honor the obligations he was already booked for.

Spencer hated to think of Greg being out with some man, but he knew that Greg had no intention of being physical with any clients from the escort service. Greg had been very careful to tell him that he didn't always sleep with those men, and Spencer believed him.

He'd found it appalling that Greg had taken such a large pay cut to go from working in the lab to being a full-fledged CSI that he'd had to take a job with the escort service; it didn't seem fair that he was putting himself more in harm's way, but not getting paid more.

But it was what Greg wanted to do, and as long as he wasn't doing anything other than being a charming dinner companion and arm candy at parties, Spencer saw nothing wrong with it. If Greg needed the money, and he wanted to keep working as an escort, he was free to do so.

Though he would feel a lot better if Greg completely left that life behind, Spencer thought with a sigh. He wasn't going to tell his boyfriend what to do, of course; it had to be Greg's decision. But he was fairly sure that Greg wanted to leave it.

He was sure that Greg would do just that, in time. He only hoped that it wouldn't take something like a rape attempt to make Greg realize that he didn't need to hold on to the escort job any more. Spencer was more than willing to pay part of the rent on his apartment.

Spencer winced at the thought; he didn't want his boyfriend to think of himself as a kept man, or feel that Spencer was giving him charity. Because that wasn't the case at all. Spencer felt that it was only fair for him to help financially, since he considered Greg's home his as well.

It would be wonderful to have somewhere to stay other than a hotel room when he was in Vegas visiting his mother. Greg's apartment already felt more like home than his own -- and even more like home that the house he'd grown up in had ever been.

That was because Greg was there, because the place was filled the presence of the man who had captured Spencer's heart from the very first glance. It would have been just another apartment without that presence to make it come alive.

He jumped when his cell phone rang; squinting at his alarm clock, he saw that it was past two o'clock in the morning. Why would anyone be calling him at such a time? The only thing that Spencer could think of was that something had happened to his mother.

He picked up the phone, holding it to his ear, feeling his heart start to race in his chest. "Hello?" he asked, struggling to keep his tone calm and even. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, prepared to hear something terrible from whoever was speaking.

"Reid." It was Rossi, his tone terse and flat. "We all need to meet at the office as soon as possible. We've had a message from Foyet -- and we think it refers to you. There's something in it about a 'pretty boy' and Vegas. You're the only one of us with a personal connection to the city."

"'Pretty boy?'" Spencer asked, frowning as he sat up, his heart rate subsiding a bit. "That could refer to me, I guess, but I don't think so. I wouldn't have guessed I was Foyet's type." He wanted to bite his tongue out the moment he said the words.

"The whole thing is about a 'pretty boy at English gardens,'" Rossi told him, sounding curious. "I have no clue what you have to do with an English garden, but we're all hoping you can clarify. And yes, we've made sure that your mom is okay. She's in protective custody."

"English garden?" Spencer's heart rate jolted forward again, this time pounding so hard and fast against his rib cage that, for just a moment, he thought that it would burst out of his chest. "I ..... I'm familiar with that. I'll get to the office right away."

"We're sending a police escort for you," Rossi said, sounding a little distracted. "Just meet them in the lobby of your building and get here as fast as you can. We need to be all together -- at least, that's what Hotch thinks. And I tend to agree with him."

"Okay," Spencer whispered, hearing the click as Rossi hung up. He slowly closed the phone and placed it back on the table, burying his face in his hands and resisting the urge to sob aloud. He knew all too well what that cryptic message from Foyet referred to.

English Gardens was the name of the apartment complex that Greg lived in. Foyet was stalking Greg. He had to be. He had meant that message as a warning to Spencer, to let him know that Greg was in his sights, that Spencer's lover was his next target.

They had to get to Vegas as quickly as they could -- and he had to call Greg and tell him to stay at home, to not accept any bookings with any new clients, no matter what the escort service said. Spencer picked up his phone again, scrolled to Greg's number, and held his breath.

There was no answer. His eyes filled with tears as he heard Greg's beloved voice, the message on his voice mail upbeat and cheerful. He didn't want to leave a message; he wanted to talk directly to Greg, to impress upon him the kind of danger that he was in.

But he cleared his throat and left a message anyway, telling his boyfriend that there was a serial killer in Vegas who had referred to him in a message sent to the BAU. He told Greg to call him back, no matter what time it was, and that keeping in touch was of paramount importance.

His hands were shaking by the time he clicked the phone off; he could only hope that Greg got the message as soon as possible, and that he wasn't already out on some booking with the service. He might very well just be at home, taking a shower or watching a movie.

Getting to his feet, Spencer made his way to the closet, pulling out clothes and starting to dress as quickly as he could. There was no chance for sleep tonight -- and probably not for many nights to come, until he knew that Foyet was behind bars again and Greg was safe.

***