So I wanted to write a Criminal Minds wing!fic and I'm not sure if it's good or not but here it is so please try to enjoy and if you think it sucks don't tell me so because I don't appreciate anger directed my way.

The procedure was a long one, but not all that dangerous given that it was taking place in a lab with a few scientists surrounding the table and making sure that everything went well. The first step was the binding of hollow steal to his shoulder blades and then entwining the synthetic fibre around the structure to create what was, essentially, a whole new pair of limbs. Synthetic skin, like a thin layer of rubber, stretched over that. For the whole time, the subject was unconscious in a deep and comfortable sleep and under heavy anaesthesia so that he would not be able to feel any of the pain he was experiencing. The synthetic fibre was almost identical to muscle, and thus had all of the components of muscle, including the nerves. If one were to prod at the magnificent wings, the subject would retract them and be able to fully feel what they were doing.

Imbedded in the fibre and thin rubber were synthetic wings, created from a strong and light poly fibre and almost identical to the real thing, embedded in the human subject's newfound wings.

The feathers were tawny, coloured as such as a spur of the moment decision based on the colour of the subject's hair, the latter being a slight shade of auburn that glowed tawny under the light of the table.

The synthetic fibre of the subject's new muscles was attached to his real muscle as the final step in the procedure and the three scientists sat back once the subject was once again stabilized. They each bore a large smile under their blue masks, their latex gloves stained with blood. On the table, their subject slept soundly.

The subject was a young man of perhaps twenty-five years. Light auburn hair was covered by a shower-cap like item and he was dressed in hospital scrubs, the garments pulled down so that his torso was bare, the steady beat of his heart against the cold table. The beautiful wings that were freshly grafted to his back rested on large table on either side of the man, limp and almost useless looking.

His breaths were labored but steady, rattling in his lungs before being released once more into the air around him. In sleep, the man's eyes were closed and his face looked peaceful despite what was happening to him.

The first scientist stood, running a hand over the subject's hair before exiting the operation theatre. The second scientist followed, whispering, "You are going to be brilliant," as he passed. The third and final scientist passed without so much as acknowledging the man on the table, closing the door behind him.

A closer look would have revealed that the subject was pinned to the table, skinny wrists and biceps manacled to the table while his legs were strapped down as well. Over the back of his neck was another strap, and a final one over his back. Only his new wings remained untouched, but each rested limply against their respective table.

The subject slept on, and it was not to be for several hours that he awoke.

When he did, it was to a loud crash that would have had him jerking upright if he had been able to do so. As was he jerked in his restraints all at once, thrashing until the pain won and he collapsed back against the table, his chest heaving.

Within a few short moments, the door to the operation theatre opened, and a man with close-shaven hair and dark skin entered. Around his torso was a navy blue vest, emblazoned on the front in golden letters an abbreviation for, Federal Bureau of Investigation.

The man crashed through the door and turned from one side to the other. "Clear," he called into the silence and the subject stared at him with large, pleading brown eyes that were filled with fear until the man approached. "Reid," the man said softly, his voice a firm and soothing baritone. "You okay man?"

His eyes darted from the subject's, Reid's, face to the wings that spread from his back. "Mo'gan," the subject said and the man carded a soothing hand through Reid's hair, eyes remaining fixed on his rescuer.

"Yeah, buddy, it's Morgan." He called the next words over his shoulder. "We need a medic in hear ASAP! It's okay, Reid. We are gonna get you out of here and then you will be just fine because I know you kid, you can survive everything that the world throws at you. Just relax I'm gonna cut these straps off, okay? Just stay still."

Morgan fiddled with the strap over Reid's neck for a minute before unclasping it and moving onto the strap across his lower back, then his arms and legs.

"Wha's 'appened?" Reid slurred, twisting to look at Morgan. A flinch ran over his face at the movement, but Reid remained as still as it seemed to be possible for him.

Another figure, presumably the medic, appeared in the door way, followed by another. Both carried medical bags and as soon as the first one entered the room, he paused at the sight he was greeted by. Behind him, the second peeped over his shoulder and let out a long gasp.

"What is that?!" The second medic asked, voice filled with incredulity.

Morgan shook his head. "Not sure man but there's gotta be something you can do. These are fresh stitches and, as best as I can tell, that connect the membrane of his… wings… to his back."

"A thin, organic substance almost identical to skin. It has self-regenerating cells and has veins beneath the surface like normal skin," Reid mumbled through the drug induced haze.

The FBI agent continued to pet the subject's hair, movements slow and gentle as the medics approached. The first looked to the second. "He's not going to fit in an ambulance." The words were blunt, overly so. Reid flinched, and then again when a hand prodded at one of his wings. He let out a long whine of pain.

"Hurts," he mumbled out and Morgan hushed him gently.

"I know, Pretty Boy, I know. Can you guys give him something for the pain?'

The second medic shook his head. "Until we know what they gave him, seeing as there is no way you're giving anyone wings without anaesthesia, we can't give him anything."

"Could hurt me," Reid murmured. "Chemicals don't mix nicely."

"No they don't, kid," Morgan murmured back. "No they don't."

One of the medics, the first one, came forward to take Reid's pulse from his neck, then quickly recorded the young man's beats per minute. The other medic carefully examined the place on Reid's back where the wings protruded from. He dragged a finger across the nearby skin and Reid flinched at the touch, a soft grimace betraying his pain. A minute later the second medic felt at Reid's feathers and received a soft twitch of response. The medic's eyebrows shot up further yet but he didn't speak as he continued to examine Reid's wings.

Another person entered the room, it growing increasingly cramped. This was a young woman, a few years older than Reid, with an FBI Kevlar vest covering her torso just as one covered Morgan's. At her hip, a gun was holstered. The woman had golden blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and crystal clear blue eyes. She entered the room swiftly, going to stand next to Morgan and gazing at Reid's wings in disbelief.

"Morgan, are those wings?"

The dark-skinned agent sighed. "Believe me when I say I have no idea."

"We profiled the UnSubs as delusional based on their rants about the reinvention of life, but what if this is what they were talking about? Just giving people wings to create a subspecies of some sort?" To the surprise of the two FBI agents nearby, the words came from Reid, who flinched once again as one medic stroked a hand over his back.

"Dr. Reid," the medic said. "I'm going to need you to try something. This is going to feel unnatural but you need to do this, okay?"

Reid nodded, abruptly seeming to steal himself for whatever was to come.

"Okay, that's good. Can you feel this?" The medic stroked a hand over the join of Reid's wing and the subject nodded. "Good. Try to pull them back to your body."

Now Reid frowned, and his wings twitched ferociously.

"You're doing well, doctor, just keep trying."

His left wing moved a couple of inches, crawling across the metal surface of the operation table. The first medic gently guided it as the blonde woman rubbed Reid's neck. In a slow process that likely seemed to take hours to Reid but, in reality, only took five minutes, the first of the two wings was closed against Reid's back. Tawny feathers rustled slightly and, when folded, the wings seemed to be smaller than they actually were. It took several more minutes before the second wing folded against Reid's back. The young man looked exhausted, eyes lashes fluttering against his cheeks as the blonde woman stroked his hair.

"Dr. Reid," the first medic said. "We're going to lift you onto a separate gurney now. This might hurt but I need you to remain as calm as possible."

Reid nodded and the two medics carefully lifted him onto the gurney they had brought in. With a grimace and soft whine, Reid let his new wings sag next to him as he was lifted from the room. Morgan and the blonde woman followed, murmuring under their breath. Their words were that of confusion and pain, and worry for the subject. They asked why such a thing had been done, and how it could possibly have worked.

A short minute later, the group had left the house and Reid's back had been covered by a shock blanket, his cheek resting against the gurney. The two medics loaded him into an ambulance and it was not long before the ambulance was speeding off.

Behind the vehicle, the two FBI agents had gathered with a group, all of whom were dressed in the same FBI vests.

There were Morgan and the blonde woman along with three others. The first was an aging Italian man of short stature. He had dark hair and a slight beard, dressed in fancy shoes of Italian leather. Next to the Italian man was a woman with jet black hair that hung around her face at shoulder length. Her vest remained firmly in place, whereas the Italian's had been loosened slightly. The final FBI agent was a weathered man with dark hair dressed in a nice suit beneath his FBI vest, a frown gracing his features.

"Morgan, JJ," the final agent greeted the approaching pair. "Can you give us the over view?"

The blonde woman, JJ, sighed and nodded. "He's mostly fine; a little drugged up, a little tired and quite sore. All of that should be fixed up pretty quickly and under normal circumstances we could have him on the jet home with us tomorrow. However, the UnSubs put him through a… procedure… and we're not really sure what's going on."

The Italian frowned. "How can we not be sure? I mean, you two saw him, what's going on? What was with that blanket?"

"He has wings," Morgan announced in a hushed tone. "As in bird's wings. Fully functional wings attached to his back that he is able to use. They're about five feet long, each."

"That's not a funny joke, Morgan," the dark-haired woman said. "Tell us what's really going on."

JJ grimaced. "The letter that the UnSubs left us seemed totally delusional. All about creating a new species and making lives better. They were trying to do that by giving people wings. And Reid just so happened to be a good subject for the whole thing. Light enough, right build, the likes. Heck, with UnSubs as precise as this they probably took his hair colour into account. His wings are tawny." She looked to the stern man. "Tawny, Hotch. And they've got little speckles on them and, given his height, they were made for him to be able to maneuver through tight spaces. They almost look like owl wings."

The dark-haired woman scoffed. "Wings? Seriously? I've been involved in politics and the stuff that no one knows about my entire life and I have never heard of a person having wings."

"Just… wait till we get to the hospital. Then you can see."

One by one, the FBI agents piled into a dark SUV, pulling away from the abandoned building – perhaps a medical facility – and onto a main road. Their tires ate up the ground beneath and it was not long before they reached the San Jose Memorial Hospital. They all climbed out, by now their FBI vests disposed of and guns securely holstered. The stern man, Hotch, led the group inside, quickly approaching the front desk.

"Excuse me, we're here for a Dr. Spencer Reid. He was brought in perhaps ten minutes ago. He's with the FBI and we're his team."

The secretary looked up then back at the records. "I'm sorry sir, you know we can't release information to non-family members."

Hotch held up his badge. "I am Dr. Reid's power of attorney, you can't do anything but stabilize him without my go ahead."

The secretary sighed. "Our records show that Dr. Reid was brought in about ten minutes ago. He is currently in room 214."

"No surgery?" The Italian man questioned and the secretary shook her head.

"You're welcome to visit Dr. Reid at any time you so wish."

The group of FBI agents did so, whirling through the busy halls of the hospital and up and elevator, down long corridors until they reached the room labelled as 214. Morgan tapped on the door, opening it and stepping in, quickly followed by the remainder of the FBI team. They spread around Reid's bed, JJ and Hotch by Reid's head on either side and Morgan, the dark-haired woman and the Italian spreading out towards Reid's feet.

In the bed, carefully tucked beneath a heavy hospital blanket, was Reid. His auburn hair fluffed out against the pillow and his position gave no indication that he had rather large wings sticking out from his back. Possibly acting abilities, possibly the effect of the sedative that he had been unconscious with just an hour before.

"Hey guys," he greeted. "You get the UnSub?"

The dark-haired woman shook her head. "Not yet, Reid. Garcia found the names but all of their areas of residence are completely empty. Best guess is they're in the wind now."

Reid frowned at her. "They're scientists," he said as though that made everything clear. It didn't. When no one seemed to understand, he continued. "I'm an experiment." Still, Reid did not receive the response he seemed to be searching for. "Seriously? Did none of you do experiments in high school? The first thing you do is safety, the second thing is the experiment, and the third thing is observations. As long as I'm accessible they will be back to take notes on me."

Understanding donned on all five faces, and there were nods all around.

The dark-haired woman frowned. "Scientists are whacked."

Reid frowned right back, the scowl coming over his features like the plagues over Egypt. "Prentiss, I am a scientist."

Within seconds, the pair were bickering incessantly. Morgan exchanged a look with JJ, and they both looked to Hotch who just shrugged and sighed. The Italian man wore a broad smile as he watched Prentiss and Reid bicker.

A week later, they caught the first scientist. Two days after that, the second turned himself in and just a few more days following the second scientist, the third scientist was caught trying to abduct another victim. The FBI team exchanged delighted grins at having caught the scientists, but frowned at the words, "They're melded to his bones. They can't just 'come off'," of course in reference to Reid's wings.

Whilst Hotch interrogated the three scientists, separately of course, Reid slowly grew accustomed to the new weight on his back, and the extra feelings that came with it. Morgan helped him butcher a couple of shirts so that the wings poked out from his back and it was finally two weeks after they rescued Reid that JJ brought up the elephant in the room.

"I spoke with Dr. Gonzalez and she agreed that… detatching?... Reid's wings would be a bad idea given how they've been melded together. I also spoke with the Director and he's suggested that we make this case public knowledge. We give a statement saying that the UnSubs were able to meld wings to an agent's body and that the will not be effecting said agents work. We don't give them Reid's name, though, but we also don't hide that it's him."

Reid twirled a pencil, wings resting limply behind him in a manner that allowed them to curl, just slightly, over his shoulders. "I have no objections to any of that, but I need to be the one to tell my mom. So just… after that…"

Hotch nodded in agreement. "We can release the statement from Quantico while Reid's on vacation."

"How does he get there without anyone seeing anything?" The Italian questioned, curiosity invading his tone.

Reid shrugged. "You could give me the jet."

Prentiss snorted back. "Not a chance, Reid. There is no way I am flying a commercial flight back to Quantico. You, Reid, can just wear baggy clothes and a couple of extra layers. That should hide those things pretty well." She grinned at the auburn haired man.

"I don't own any baggy clothes. All of my things are dress pants, button up shirts and blazers or jackets. And pyjamas. But I'm not flying home in my pyjamas."

"You could drive," the Italian suggested. "It's only, what, ten hours from here?"

"Approximately fifteen hours and twenty-nine minutes when one takes into account average traffic patterns," Reid corrected. "I'd have to split that into two days and sleep in some motel and be on the road all day for both of those. It's a rather unappealing option."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "I'll drive you, kid. I can get us there in nine hours, tops."

Reid looked skeptically at the African-American man. "That sounds… unsafe…"

"I'll lend you some clothes and you can fly," Hotch said, ending the conversation.

"There's really no way to get rid of these things?" Reid questioned, and JJ shook her head.