Thank you, everyone for your feedback. I'm really grateful for it and will definitely try to take it into consideration. Again, sorry for the delayed update.

Christ, my first chapter was kinda crappy, but I can definitely feel my steady improvement with each chapter I post. So of can you stick with me and slog through all my incoherent rambling, I may just become a decent author by the end of this fic. MIGHT.

"What do you mean, Rossi?" Reid was absolutely outraged. "Why can't I bunk with you?"

"I am a seasoned profiler and one of the greatest minds of the FBI. I do not 'bunk' with anyone."

Six profilers. Three hotel rooms. Four men. Two women. It should work out perfectly. . .should. . .

Who knew Rossi was such a priss.

"What's wrong, we're grownups, not a bunch of frat boys." Rossi said.

"Easy for you to say, Rossi." Reid tugged at his tie with a shaking hand and swallowed the lump in his throat. "You're not the one sharing the room."

"It's-it's unprofessional, un-ethical, and. . .and. . .I'm not doing it." Reid fought down the blush creeping across his cheeks. This felt like the opening to some trashy romance novel at best, a low-budget porno-flick at worst. . .not that Reid would know anything about that.

"I fully agree with Reid", Hotch cut in, his flat voice dripping with disapproval. Rossi was being uncharacteristically immature.

"It's alright Reid, we don't bite." Emily laughed and ruffled the younger man's long hair like a dog.

"You can take the floor and Emily and I will take the bed." Said JJ nonchalantly.

"Wait, shouldn't you be offering me the bed?" Reid's brows furrowed slightly.

"Nah, I actually want to get a good night's sleep, tonight." Said Emily. She turned and beckoned the two to follow her.

Reid was not looking forward to this. Stupid Rossi. He grumbled various foreign expletives under his breath. 'Cazzo doccia mostro tentoni al seno'

Rossi rose a single eyebrow at Reid's butchering of the Italian language but didn't react otherwise.

He turned on his heel violently and briskly followed the two women down the hallway to his doom. . . Er, room.

As they reached the door, Reid turned one last time and glared directly into Rossi's eyes. He tried to communicate every ounce of his rage and bloodlust in that look, Rossi's dark eyes met his and he held eye contact for a few very tense seconds until Reid's eyes started to feel heavy and he was forced to look away. Reid blinked a few times and slipped through the doorway. The door closed with a quiet click which echoed through the hallway.

Morgan discreetly fist-bumped Rossi.

"Nice", Morgan grinned.

Hotch rubbed the bridge of his nose. Was he the only professional on the team?

"What?" Morgan asked Hotch. "Reid totally needs to get laid. He's been acting way too weird this week."

Hotch sighed. God, they really were a bunch of frat boys.

Reid's lanky legs hung over the edge of the bathtub. The quilt lay in the bottom, a soft buffer between his bony back and the hard ceramic tub. Sleeping a bathtub is actually surprisingly comfortable. Reid did it all the time as a kid. . . well, okay. . . let's just say his childhood had been far from normal. But several years and one explosive growth spurt later, his lanky body just wouldn't fit in like it used to.

Well. At least he had the quilt. Emily and JJ would be sleeping out in the cold.

And he would be here, in the tub. Wrapped in his quilt like a cocoon and with some pretty decent light reading material. Not like he was going to get any decent sleep, anyway.

History of American Bombers. Psychology of Serial Bombers. Homemade Bombs. 21 Common Explosives and Where to Find Them. Bomb-Building for Aspiring Hobbyists. The extremely heavy, hard-backed books lay on his chest and front like lead weights. The pressure was comforting. Almost . . .like a hug.

Reid groaned quietly. God he really needed to get laid.

Yes, maybe the old lady at the bookstore back home in Quantico had looked at him funny (and almost called the cops). But it was very much worth it. Maybe he could get a better insight into the case.

Reid picked up the first book: History of American Bombers and cracked open the well-worn spine. He closed his eyes and breathed in that delightfully book-ish smell. Dry and slightly musty. Like a starving man before a three course meal, he was going to devour this book. Spencer grinned savagely in anticipation, eyes still closed.

His eyes fluttered open. His brilliant smile twitched slightly and slowly faded away.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO READ THIS BOOK?

"No", Reid rolled his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The box blinked away. Reid looked down at the book in his hands it was closed. Huh. Funny, he didn't remember closing it. He tried to open it again, but it was like all of the pages had been superglued together.

"Guh", He growled, frustration tightened his throat and made it impossible for him to breathe. He panted with exertion, wedging his finernails behind the front and back covers, yanking until he almost felt his nails tearing off.

And it did not budge even a millimetre.

"Fine. Yes. I do want to read this book very much." Reid fumed. Some tiny part of him felt like he had just lost a battle. A battle with an annoying little figment of his imagination.

OK :D

It was just a colon and a capital 'D'. What made it look so sinister?

The book suddenly dissolved into light in his hands. The light shattered like sparkling glass and violently swirled around him in an glittering hurricane.

"Wait, wha-"

The light shards speared directly into his head.

For the umpteenth time, JJ awoke to Emily's toe up her nose.

Two girls sharing a bed. Not as sexy as it sounds.

Damn. Morgan would be so disappointed.

Sleeping head-to-toe on the queen-sized bed, JJ took the opportunity to press her frozen feet into Emily's toasty warm cheeks. 'An eye for an eye, Emily.' She thought spitefully.

God she was cold. Reid didn't deserve that quilt.

"JJ, I swear to god, if you shove your dirty feet into my face one more time, I will personally execute you."

"Well maybe you should refrain from ramming your nasty toes up my nose."

"Toes? what the heck are you-"

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" The piercing scream made their hairs stand on end and their hearts race, sending cold adrenaline lacing through their veins like poison.

"REID?" The women simultaneously bolted out of bed, the loose bed sheet momentarily slowed them down, tangling between their legs.

They hastily stumbled to the bathroom and slammed the door wide open, leaving a dent in the wall where the handle met the plaster.

Emily's run faltered at the doorway, but JJ sped past her.

Reid sat curled over himself in the bathtub, clutching his head in his pale hands like a vice.

"Reid. Reid! Are you okay?" JJ grabbed his shoulder and firmly shook him. Reid didn't respond, he only drew in rapid, shallow breaths which sounded suspiciously like sobs, he let out a muted hum under his breath.

"Reid, talk to us, please." Emily crouched next to the two.

Reid blinked slowly. He drew his trembling hands from his head slowly, wincing as they caught the knots in his long hair. He sat up and stared up at them, absolutely puzzled.

"Reid. What happened?" Emily kept her hand on his shoulder.

"Wha- I. . .I'm fine, really."

The two women shared a quick look. They did not move an inch. Reid sheepishly avoided their eyes.

"Emily, JJ, just go back to bed. Please." Reid pushed JJ's hand off his shoulder.

"Not until you tell me what the heck was that Reid." JJ refused to budge.

"I, uh. Promise not to laugh."

"Reid, we would never laugh at you for something like this." Emily told him firmly.

"I- I had a nightmare. I was attacked." JJ tensed slightly, but Emily didn't visibly react. Reid saw this and hastily corrected himself. I-I was, er. . . attacked by a book."

Emily blinked slowly. JJ covered her mouth with a hand.

"Heheheh." JJ chuckled. Emily elbowed her and glared.

"Leave Reid alone." Emily came to his rescue.

"I- I'm serious! It stabbed me in the head!", Reid yelped.

Emily's expression softened slightly. He cautiously met her eyes and saw. . . something in her gaze. 'Phew'. He was off the hook. Reid tried not to deflate visibly in relief.

"Heh, only you, Reid." JJ got up from her knees, rubbing where the cold bathroom tiles had pressed. Yawning and feeling the night catching up with her, she headed for the door.

"Glad to see you're okay, Reid." Emily said softly.

She and Emily left, "We'll leave you to your. . .reading." Reid rolled his eyes at the lame pun as she started to close the door behind them.

Reid was left utterly alone in the hollow silence of the white-tiled walls and the glaring bathroom light. The sink tap dripped periodically-ta-ta-ta-tap-ta-ta-ta-tap, echoing within the hard walls and matching the rhythm of his still frantic heart.

Reid's thoughts raced. He really should speak up. . . say something- this madness was getting out of hand. The little blue text boxes were bad enough, but this was- well, it was worse. Much worse.

He had never felt more alone in his life.

"W-wait, guys." His voice broke slightly.

But they were already gone.

If they stuck around for just a moment longer, they would have seen Reid gather his head into his trembling hands again and cautiously let out a shuddering breath. Reid blinked away the wetness from his eyes.

God his brain felt so. . .so. . .wrong. Just what the hell was that?

Five hundred and fifty three pages. Twelve chapters. So many words.

The information was there. . .but not there. He couldn't recall the exact words from the book, which was unusual in itself, but if you asked him who Timothy McVeigh was, he would tell you that he was an American millitant who was convicted and executed on 11th June 2001 for the detonation of a truck bomb in front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. One hundred and sixty eight dead. Over six hundred injured. One of the most significant acts in the history of domestic terrorism in America.

Reid was used to spouting facts and statistics, he had an eidetic memory after all. But this was different. Normally, it would be like peeking back in time. He should be able to 'feel' the crinkle of the slightly aged paper under his fingertips. He should be able to 'see' each and every letter with startling clarity, along with the tiny blotches of stray ink peppering the pages.

But it was as if all of the information printed in the ink of the pages had been condensed and then permanently flash-seared into his brain the moment that the light shards had stabbed his head. And it had only taken a fraction of a second.

Reid looked around for his book. Groping blindly for it, he felt nothing but air. It wasn't there. He must have devoured it.

"Heh. Heh." Reid chuckled softly. The slight chuckle slowly worked up to a hysterical wheeze.

YOU HAVE UNLOCKED THE ABILITY: DEVOURER OF KNOWLEDGE!of

EXCELLENT! YOU CAN ABSORB BOOKS IN AN INSTANT! A VERY HANDY ABILITY. . . KNOWLEDGE IS POWER, AFTER ALL! (^_^)

Yet again, Reid utilised his small pool of patience to ignore the Tutorial. And how it always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

Have you ever been driven so far off the edge of the figurative cliff that represents your ability to cope with crap that you've somehow come full circle and found yourself back on top of the ledge? No?. . . Well Reid has.

'Alright Spencer, think positive. . . Just look for the silver lining, c'mon, man up. We're gonna make life lemonade.'

Reid's Pool of Patience had run dry. He dived into his Lake of Optimism instead.

Maybe- just maybe, this wasn't so bad, he tried to reason with himself. Reid weighed the pros and cons of this 'knowledge devouring' ability.

Con: His mind felt completely and utterly violated, like full-on mind-screw.

Pro: Pure, unadulterated, guilt-free, all-you-can-eat knowledge.

There was a deafening roar of silence as even his thoughts slowed, leaving him only with the rapid tattoo of the dripping tap to break the silence in short bursts -ta-ta-ta-tap-ta-ta-ta-tap.

Reid tried wet his chapped lips with his dry tongue and eyed the haphazard pile of unopened books that had been strewn around the tub during his little "nightmare".

With firm, steady hands, he picked up one of the books. The title of it barely registered in his mind "Bomb Building for Aspiring Hobbyists".

"Yes."

If knowledge really was power. . . Then Reid would become a god.

A/N: Did you know that 98% of American voters agree that Reid should get laid. The other 2% is Aaron Hotchner.