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Chapter Text

 Spencer felt a rush of relief when he shut the door to his apartment behind him, locking himself inside and everyone else out. He had barely muttered a goodbye to Morgan, who had driven him home after this last case. He kept his eyes on the ground the whole time because he was afraid of worrying his friend. Spencer dropped his go bag in the entryway and was beginning to head to his room when he heard a voice speak outside the door.

"You okay, Reid?" It was Morgan. Spencer knit his brows in confusion, wondering why he was still there.

"I'm fine. You can go home now, I'm okay." The monotony in Spencer's voice was disconcerting. He heard Morgan let out a sigh followed by a moment of silence.

"Are you sure? I can stay with you tonight if you need me to. I have my go bag with me." Morgan sounded almost desperate, and for a split second, Spencer wanted to let him in. That feeling didn't last very long, though.

"No!" Spencer let out a yelp, worried that he wouldn't be able to do what he needed to do if Morgan was around. He composed himself before responding in a calmer manner, "I told you I'm fine. Go home, Morgan. I can take care of myself."

"Look man, I know that was probably a hard case for you, and if you need someone to-"

"Morgan. I'm fine. It's not a big deal anymore." Spencer was beginning to lose his patience.

"Open the door."

"What?"

"I said, open the door."

"Why? I already told you everything is fine. Do you not trust me?"

"To be honest Reid, I don't. Not after everything that happened last year. Please, just open the door so we can talk face to face."

Right, everything that had happened. He was clean now, but no matter how far Spencer ran or how much progress he made, he could never escape Morgan's concerns about him relapsing with Dilaudid. He found this slightly comical considering he technically was relapsing, just not in the way Morgan would expect.

Spencer turned back around to face the door and opened it up swiftly. Morgan's eyes drifted from Spencer's face to the living room. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the mess that was Spencer's living space.

"Reid, what happened? This isn't like you at all." Morgan looked back to Spencer, meeting his gaze directly. Spencer immediately looked down so as to not deal with the uncomfortableness of direct eye contact.

"I didn't have time to clean before the last case, so I had to leave it for when we got home. It's not a big deal, I can get it fixed." Spencer didn't want his home to get so out of hand, but the chronic fatigue eating away at him made it nearly impossible to clean. His hands were clenched and knocking into his legs as he swung his arms out from his body and back. It was clear how uncomfortable and anxious Spencer was about having to deal with the disorder in the room.

"Hey kid, let's not do that." Morgan's voice dropped soothingly as he realized what was happening, "How about you let me sleep here and I can help you clean it tomorrow? It's already midnight, so it's best to wait until morning to clean it." Morgan reached out and caught Spencer's hands before they landed a harder hit to his legs.

"I- I don't- you could always come back tomorrow after you get some sleep at your place?" Spencer was losing his focus, fog overtaking his brain. He really didn't want Morgan to stay at his house, but he wasn't sure if he could convince him to leave. Morgan had been wonderful during Spencer's addiction recovery and he didn't want to push him away after everything he had done for him. Plus, the offer to have help cleaning the overwhelming mess before them was tempting.

"Reid, I can tell you're getting foggy. Maybe you should go get into some comfier clothes while I get my things together, okay?" By this point, Spencer was too far gone to argue. He simply nodded and staggered into his bedroom. Before he collected his clothes, he flicked his bedside lamps on. Spencer couldn't stand the dark after the shed and the dim glow of the lamps was a good compromise between pitch black and the too-bright ceiling lights. As he was pulling out his usual sleeping t-shirt, he realized that he would need something longer. There was no way Spencer was walking out with his arms on display with Morgan there.

In that moment of clarity, another thought hit him. Spencer wasn't sure if he had cleaned up his things off of the bathroom sink before he left. Right as he was closing his dresser drawers and rushing to get to the bathroom, Morgan came around the corner.

"Can I use your restroom really quickly?" Morgan asked nonchalantly. Spencer reached out and put a hand on the doorknob possessively. He hated to tell Morgan no, but he had to get in there first.

"Um. I'll- I'll be right out. Gotta get out of these clothes, I'm- I'm overstimulated." He immediately felt horrible. It was only a half lie, but it still hurt to lie in the first place. Morgan must have seen the panic on his face because he took a step back to give Spencer more room, initially oblivious to the reality of the situation.

"Oh yeah, of course, I'll just wait in the living room." Morgan had a glint of suspicion in his eyes, one that Spencer had seen many times during recovery. "You need anything?"

"I'm good. Be right out." Spencer opened the door as little as he could and slipped in quickly. He locked the door as soon as it closed and flicked the lights on. His personal items were strewn out on the counter, and Spencer let out a breath. It was a good thing he came in first because Morgan would have killed him.

Spencer glanced at the door and then at his watch. He probably only had three to five minutes before Morgan started to worry, so he had to work quickly. He began by fulling undressing, putting his watch down on the counter, and changing into some soft and comfortable sweats. Spencer laid out his long-sleeved shirt beside his watch instead of putting it on. He shivered as the cold air surrounded him and pierced his exposed skin. A glance at the watch told him that he didn't have very long left before Morgan became suspicious.

There was a moment of hesitation then where Spencer questioned if it was even a good idea to do what he was about to do. He knew it was a horrible idea, but he didn't feel like there was any other option. That case - one involving an unsub who drugged his victims to keep them quiet - had been so triggering and Spencer was craving drugs so badly. He needed this other outlet, needed it now, before he exploded.

Spencer grabbed the blade that had been stupidly left out on his counter and made several quick slashes on his arm. He inhaled deeply at the sting, relishing the way it made his brain and body calm down. It hurt, but it hurt in such a weirdly good way. The watch told Spencer he only had a minute or so left, so he continued to work quickly. Typically he would take it slowly and carefully, but there wasn't the time for that right now.

When Spencer felt satisfied with the number of cuts on his arm, he reached for the first-aid kit. He had done this same routine so many times that it took him less than a minute to wrap a bandage and gauze around his arm. He didn't clean the wounds, but Spencer decided he would rather get an infection than be caught in the act of cutting by Morgan.

The first-aid kit was placed gently under the sink and the blade, wrapped in cloth, in the back of the cabinet's small drawer that held toiletries like deodorant and toothpaste. It wasn't until he was wiping the blood off the floor that Morgan finally spoke.

"Spencer, are you okay in there?" Spencer stopped short when he heard his first name. They rarely used them. He knew Morgan must be worried if he had resorted to a first-name basis.

"Yeah, fine! Just had to use the restroom too. I'll be out in a second!" Spencer hoped the shakiness he felt wasn't showing itself in his voice. Gently, he pulled on his shirt, put on his watch, and dropped the bloodied toilet paper he used to clean the mess into the toilet. Spencer then flushed and washed his hands. After one last look-over, he emerged from the bathroom. He flashed a small smile at Morgan as he walked to his bedroom.

"Spencer."

Spencer stopped in his tracks and turned around, eyes on the ground.

"Yeah?" He said with a shaky breath. The way Morgan emphasized the word scared him.

"I'm sleeping on the floor in your bedroom. I don't want you alone right now. This is non-negotiable." Morgan stated authoritatively.

Spencer pulled his sleeves down over his hands and nodded sheepishly. There was no convincing Morgan otherwise. The fog that had lifted during his self-harm session had begun to creep back in and exhaustion was weighing down his every muscle. He stood there silently until Morgan entered the bathroom. After Spencer heard the door shut, he retreated to his bed and sat down.

There was a flaring pain in his arm, deeper than he was used to. It was at that moment that Spencer wished he had checked his wounds before covering them. There was no telling how deep they were given the quick and unruly movements used to make them. He was running his fingers over his arm subconsciously when he heard the bathroom door open again. Spencer quickly moved his hands back to his lap and played with the ends of his sleeves quietly. Before he could really think about what he was doing, Spencer opened his mouth and began spewing out words he never thought he would use together.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor. This bed is pretty big." Spencer stated it as a fact, hoping that it wouldn't freak Morgan out. His eyes stayed glued to his fidgeting fingers. He didn't want to see the look on Morgan's face.

"You sure about that, Spencer?" Again with the first name. He nodded once and shifted uncomfortably, not sure if he made the right decision by offering to share the bed. At this point he wasn't even sure what was happening; Spencer had been so certain that nobody would see or be with him tonight, and yet here he was, with Derek Morgan carefully sitting down on the other side of his bed.

Spencer hated the way his stomach fluttered, hated the way he wanted so badly to curl up next to Morgan and never let go, hated the way he became almost excited about the idea of sharing the bed with Morgan.

Finally, Spencer dared to look up at Morgan. He had gray sweats and an old FBI t-shirt on. His eyes were glowing softly with care, and Spencer felt almost intimidated by it. Care was something he still wasn't used to.

"We should get some sleep, pretty boy." Morgan said it so nonchalantly as if it was no big deal, but Spencer could have sworn his heart stopped. He never knew how to react to the nickname. His cheeks flushed as he maneuvered his body under the covers, careful not to put any pressure or friction on his cuts. He did not fully succeed, and Spencer grimaced as his arm rubbed the sheets. Spencer knew Morgan was watching him, so he quickly switched back to his normal, indifferent expression before he flipped over and faced away from Morgan.

"You alright Spencer? Are you hurt?" Morgan was laying on his side with his head propped up with his arm when Spencer's head turned to look at him. Despite being utterly terrified of Morgan discovering what was wrong, Spencer couldn't help but take a second to notice how good Morgan looked at that moment. He quickly snapped himself out of the thought and hoped that the brain fog wouldn't mess with his ability to sound genuine.

"'M fine. Just really tired. Need to sleep. Words are hard right now. Night, Derek." Spencer wasn't sure how he managed to get everything out, but he was grateful he did. It wasn't a lie; he really was struggling to speak. Morgan's face immediately changed from concern to understanding as he recognized Spencer's problem, realizing that it had to do with his autism. Spencer never used the diagnosis as an excuse, but, after weighing the options, he decided this was better than the alternative; telling the truth.

Spencer gave Morgan a soft smile before turning over and pulling the string on the lamp on his side, sending the room into a softer, quieter glow. Morgan took the hint and turned his out as well. The room fell into complete darkness. It wasn't until he closed his eyes that Spencer realized he had called Morgan by his first name. He almost never used first names with his coworkers, even if he was close to them. It made Spencer uncomfortable to do so. This was completely out of his typical behavior. He brushed it off, blaming it on the brain fog.

"You called me Derek." Morgan's quiet voice floated through the air, the words echoing off the walls.

"You called me Spencer," he replied, softly adding, "and pretty boy." onto the response.

"That I did. But you calling me Derek is rare, those aren't." Morgan chuckled. "I don't mind it, I was just surprised." He sounded like he was worried it would come across the wrong way, but Spencer understood what his friend was trying to say.

"I guess I just feel closer to you tonight." Spencer sighed and turned over to face Morgan. Morgan was closer than Spencer initially thought, which startled him at first, but he didn't move.

"Yeah? I feel closer to you too." Morgan slowly leaned his head forward so that their foreheads were touching. Usually, this would cause Spencer alarm, but he instantly felt calmer. Morgan pulled back carefully so he could look at Spencer's face.

"Usually physical closeness and contact make me overwhelmed, but this isn't bad. You're not bad to be close to, Derek." Spencer admitted shyly while looking at Derek. Their faces were only inches apart, and Spencer had a strange urge to kiss Derek. Instead, he closed his eyes, sleep trying to pull him away.

"I like it when you say my name. It's nice." Derek smiled softly as he spoke.

"Derek. Derek, Derek, Derek. Derek is my friend. Derek is here with me even when I told him I didn't want him here. Derek knew I needed someone even when I said I didn't. Derek is my best friend." Spencer was only half-conscious now, speaking without thinking.

"Sleep, pretty boy. I'm right here if you need me." Spencer could hear the smile in Derek's voice and could feel one of his own. He didn't remember the last time he felt this safe. Spencer was so foggy, his usual behavioral rules were out the window. Instead of turning back over, he scooted closer to Derek, nuzzling his head under Derek's chin and wrapping his arm around him.

Derek drew in a sharp breath of surprise before softening and wrapping himself around Spencer in return, pulling him closer. They were both so tired that Spencer's grunts of pain at the sudden movement went unnoticed. The last thing Spencer remembered was the smell of Derek's shampoo and the warmth of his breath on the top of his head. 

Chapter Text

Spencer woke up three hours later thrashing in Derek's arms. At first, he couldn't comprehend what was happening. Spencer lashed out at the hands grabbing his shoulders, fighting against them as hard as he could.

"Get off me! Get off me! Stop, I don't want it! Get off, get off, get off!" Spencer screeched and continued to thrash and fight. He didn't realize that he was safe in the bed with Derek; he could only see that damned shed in Georgia. Spencer felt his voice going out, the scraping in his throat becoming unbearable. It didn't take much longer for him to begin to hear Derek's voice filtering through the panic.

"-pencer, hey, it's okay. You're okay. It was a dream, Spencer. Come back to me, pretty boy." Spencer's eyes shot open and he slowly stopped thrashing as the situation became clearer. He looked at Derek and immediately felt ashamed and embarrassed, quickly pulling away from him. He closed his eyes and let his head fall into his hands.

"I'm- uh. I'm sorry, Morgan. Sorry you had to see that." Spencer's voice crackled on its way out, absolutely destroyed by the yelling. He was still breathing heavily and Derek watching him didn't make it any better. Derek was watching him, watching him, watching him, and he couldn't stand it. Before Spencer realized what he was doing, his hands were pulling at his hair while he gasped for air. Derek tried to stop him by grabbing his hands, but he pulled away and gasped, "Don't touch me, please.".

"I'm sorry, but I have to. I can't let you hurt yourself." Derek sounded so serious that Spencer couldn't help but let out a wet laugh at the irony of the statement. He knew it threw Derek off when the grip on his hands loosened. Spencer pulled back from Derek quickly, so quickly he almost fell off of the bed. Having control over his hands again, he began hitting his legs as he shook his head back and forth violently.

"No, no, no Spencer, you can't do that." Derek reached out to touch him again, but Spencer was so far gone in his panic that he scrambled all the way off the bed. He's scooting back into the corner of his room the second he hits the ground. The pain of the impact on Spencer's arm is searing, but instead of ignoring it, he used it to his advantage.

Spencer cowered in the corner in a ball, legs pulled up with arms wrapped around them and head down. He grabbed his hurt arm with his other hand and squeezed. Spencer began to breathe slower as the pain brought him back to reality. He didn't know how long he sat there before he lifted his head back up. Derek was still sitting on the bed watching Spencer with a strange type of sadness in his gaze.

"How often does this happen?" Derek spoke slowly and quietly.

"Most nights. This was just worse because I panicked because, um, because I was embarrassed."

"How long has it been going on?"

"Since it happened."

"Oh, Spencer. You should've said something. We could've helped you."

"Why do you think I was doing drugs? It won't," Spencer's voice tripped over a sob, "it won't stop. I had to make it stop."

"Spencer... I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, I've got other ways to cope now."

"Yeah? What are they? Maybe I can help." Derek's tone dripped with suspicion and worry, and Spencer realized he may have said too much.

"Oh, just- just small things. Like, um, reading?" Spencer knew how pathetic he sounded, but his brain was still recovering from the panic attack and therefore not functioning well.

"Spencer. I can't help you if you aren't honest with me." It was easy for Derek to spot the lie. It was what he had been trained for, what he did for a living.

"I am. I read to fall back asleep. I'm okay."

"I don't believe that."

"Well, you don't have to. But it is the truth." Spencer began to become argumentative as his panic rose. He couldn't have another coping mechanism taken away, he can't, he can't, he can't.

Spencer looked up when he heard Derek getting out of bed. Derek came and sat right in front of him and reached his hands out tentatively.

"Are you able to hold my hands right now?" Derek queried, "Come back to me, slow down your breathing. You're okay. Let me help you ground."

Sighing, Spencer reached his hands out and placed his palms on Derek's. A shock ran up his arms and sent a shiver down his spine, the fluttery feeling in his stomach reappearing. He was so distracted by this confusing feeling that he didn't see how his sleeve rode up.

"Pretty boy, what is this? What happened?" Derek pulled Spencer's attention to the bandaging on his arm. Spencer heard the question but knew that Derek already knew. The answer was mirrored in both of their eyes.

"I fell the other day and scraped it on a table, it should be better soon." Spencer didn't know why he was still lying. There was no point.

"Spencer. Please don't lie to me." Derek reached up to touch the bandage peeking out from Spencer's shirt sleeve.

"I'm not lying." But Derek knew he was, and Spencer knew it was over. The thought began to loop, and he couldn't stop it from repeating. Before he realized what he was doing, Spencer was whispering, "it's over, it's over, it's over...". He tried to take back his hands, but Derek's hold was too tight.

"Hey, hey. What's over? Spencer, take a breath."

"Everything, it's over, I can't not have this, I can't I can't I can't..." Spencer was sobbing so loudly that he couldn't get words out. He stopped trying to fight against Derek's hold, too exhausted to bother.

"Spencer, I'm right here. I want to help you, okay? You're going to be okay." Derek squeezed Spencer's hands in an attempt to ground him. "Stay with me, right here."

Derek sat with Spencer until the sobbing subsided, squeezing and rubbing his hands through the whole thing. Eventually, Derek eased his grip on Spencer's hands and Spencer rubbed at his eyes. His head fell back and leaned on the wall behind him in defeat. Spencer pulled his sleeves back down and wrapped his arms around his core, wincing when he squeezed too tight.

"I'm sorry pretty boy, but I have to ask you a few more questions." Spencer sighed at this but brought his head down to look at Derek as he asked, "How long has this been going on?" There was no more lying; Spencer gave up.

"On and off since I was a kid. It started again when I was recovering from the drug addiction. Helped me calm the cravings." He sniffled, pulling further into himself. It was obvious how uncomfortable and ashamed he was.

"Spencer. Fuck. I wish you would've reached out. I can't believe you've been hurting for so long." Derek sighed and wiped his hand over his face.

"I know. I'm sorry. It just- it just helps."

"I know I don't have to tell you this, but hurting yourself isn't a healthy or helpful coping mechanism in the long run."

"But..." Spencer looked Derek straight in the eyes, something he didn't do often. "Derek, I can't stop. Please don't make me stop. It helps so much. I can't do this without it." He was begging now, and he knew it. He also knew that Derek wasn't going to budge.

"Pretty boy, you can't keep doing this, whether it 'helps' right now or not. This never ends well for anyone, you know that, you're smart. I can't let you keep doing this." Derek looked hurt. The pain in his eyes had migrated to the rest of his face, wrinkles engraved into his forehead and lips turned down. Spencer could barely stand it. He looked away again.

"No, no, you don't understand," Spencer shook his head violently and started flapping his hands, "I know how to be careful. I know how to be safe. I've been doing this for a long time, Derek, and I know how it works. I'm fine."

"Spencer, you are absolutely not fine. Anyone self-harming is not fine. Frankly, I don't care how careful you think you can be. This is not normal behavior, no matter what you think. I promise you'll feel so much better when you stop."

"I'm not going to stop. I'm sorry. I can't."

"You can, Spencer."

"Just shut up! Can we just drop it?" Spencer snapped and stood up, stretching his tight muscles as he went. "I need to use the restroom." He hadn't taken more than two steps before Derek stepped in front of him.

"I know you're mad at me right now, but I can't let you go in that bathroom alone. I need you to give me whatever you're using to hurt yourself."

"Can't do that. I have to pee and I'm tired. Please just let me go." Spencer rolled his eyes. He wasn't about to slit his wrists right after the conversation they just had; he wasn't that stupid.

"Leave the door cracked."

"Fine. Now can I go?" In response, Derek moved out of the way, waving him off. Spencer brushed by him and went to the bathroom, leaving a crack instead of closing the door fully.

Spencer was freaked out, to say the least. He was trying to figure out how to go about the situation. Should he risk the noise and take the blade out of the cabinet and put it in the pocket of his sweatpants? He couldn't make a decision, so he just left everything as it was. Spencer was so tired. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, but all he wanted was to curl up on his bed and burrow away from all of the bad things happening.

After he finished peeing, Spencer went to wash his hands. He pulled his sleeves up slightly so they didn't get wet. It was at that moment he realized he was bleeding through the hastily-applied bandages on his arm.

"Shit." 

Chapter Text

"You okay in there?" Derek's concerned voice traveled through the crack in the door. Spencer didn't swear very often, so when he did, it worried everyone. He cursed a lot during recovery.

"Um. Yeah, I need to do something though. Promise I'm safe, just have to take care of something." Spencer hoped that was enough to ward Derek off. He reached for his first aid kit under the sink.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just taking care of myself." He was trying so hard to not get Derek involved in the mess of cleaning and re-bandaging his cuts. Spencer carefully took his shirt off and began to unwrap the bandages.

"Spencer, shit." Derek had materialized at the bathroom door, pushing it open slightly. Spencer jumped and turned to face him. He hated how quickly and easily Derek could sneak up on him. Derek's eyes were wandering all over his upper body, taking in the sheer amount of scars on his arms, chest, and sides. Spencer held his breath, imagining what Derek would think if he could see his thighs too. For a moment, they both just stood there looking at each other, unsure of what to do next.

"Derek." Spencer was speaking robotically now. "Um, I'm okay. I've got this."

"What- hey, let me help you with that." Derek gestured towards Spencer's halfway uncovered arm. Spencer froze, contemplating his options. He could take care of it on his own and keep some of his self-respect, or he could let Derek take some of the burden from him and deal with the shame that came with it.

"Okay. But only because I feel like I'm slogging through mud and can't really do anything." Spencer sighed heavily and sat down on the closed toilet seat. He could feel Derek's eyes on him and he wasn't sure what to say. Instead of speaking, he simply looked at the ground in embarrassment.

"Alright, let me see." Spencer offered it over and Derek finished removing the bandaging. After getting a look at the cuts, he said, "This is probably going to hurt a good bit, pretty boy."

"Don't. Don't call me that. You know now that it's not true." Spencer bit his lip and frowned.

"Spencer, you'll always be my pretty boy. You have scars, so what? They don't make me see you any differently. You are perfect." Derek spoke softly and slowly as he wet a cloth and began to wipe the area off. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Uh. Um." Spencer hesitated, unsure of how to answer. He really didn't want to admit that it had happened when Derek was standing only a room away.

"I'm not going to judge you, I promise."

"When we got back. When I went to the bathroom to change." Spencer admitted quietly.

"Oh, Spencer. I'm sorry. You could've come to me." Derek sighed. There was a moment of painful silence as Derek finished wiping the blood away, broken only when he sucked in a deep breath and asked, "Do you have any butterfly bandages?"

"I need butterfly bandages?" Spencer stammered, surprised at the comment. He made himself look up from the floor and at his newly cleaned cuts.

Spencer sat in shocked silence as he surveyed his arm. He leaned forward slightly to get a better look. Some of the deeper cuts were still oozing blood and they seemed to be looking up at him, saying, "look what you've done; you're disgusting, Spencer".

"Shit. I- I didn't even realize they were this bad. How did I not see them literally gaping open?" Spencer's eyes remained open wide. He could feel Derek's eyes on him, watching his reaction.

"Do you have them?" Derek asked softly.

"Um, yeah, they're in the bottom of the- the thing." Spencer gestured towards the first-aid kit with his free arm, refusing to pull his eyes away from his wounds.

"What's going on in that head of yours, kid?" Derek questioned as he reached for the kit and dug around for what he needed.

"I can't tell you that," Spencer whispered the reply. "It's too much."

"Nothing is too much for me. I can handle whatever it is."

"Derek... no, I don't think you could." Spencer winced as Derek began to close the wounds with the butterfly bandages. "It's so embarrassing."

"Okay. I'm not going to force you, but just know that I'm here if you need to talk. I care about you, Spencer. Nothing you say could ever make me leave."

"I know. I know you do." Spencer watched as Derek finished with the butterfly bandages and moved on to applying antiseptic cream. "I just," He sighed heavily, "It's just that when I see it, I want to do it again. It doesn't look ugly to me like it would to you. For me, it's almost... fuck, I can't believe I'm about to admit this... it's almost exciting, exhilarating." Spencer's stomach hit the floor as shame washed over him. "I just... I just really like it. I can't explain it."

Derek didn't say anything as he finished with the cream and began applying the gauze and bandaging to hold it in place. The silence was making Spencer uncomfortable, and he started chewing on his lip for a distraction. He was still looking anywhere but at Derek. Exhaustion was beginning to creep back in and Spencer felt his throat tightening. That's when he realized he was slipping into a nonverbal state.

"Spencer? You there?" Spencer's head shot up to look at Derek, finding his arm fully bandaged. He didn't know when that happened. He felt like he was floating and his thoughts were soft and any time he tried to reach them they slid right through his fingers like ghosts.

Derek looked confused and somewhat spooked by his friend's current state. When Spencer began to attempt to speak, mouth opening and closing with no words being released, Derek realized what was happening.

"Are you nonverbal right now?" Derek asked. Spencer nodded softly in reply. "Okay, pretty boy, do you want to get back to bed now?" Spencer nodded again and began to stand up, knees buckling slightly from fatigue.

Derek quickly moved to action, softly wrapping an arm around Spencer and helping him walk to the bed. When Spencer climbed in, he curled on his side as Derek carefully covered him with the comforter. Spencer watched as Derek went around to the other side of the bed and crawled in himself.

After getting comfortable, Derek turned to face Spencer, their faces close again. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and brought his fists up to rub harshly at them, hoping to erase the memory of what had just occurred. While doing so, he felt Derek shift next to him. Their foreheads were nearly touching again.

"Spencer, you are so unbelievably strong. I can't imagine what you've been through this past year, and whatever you went through as a kid that led you to start hurting yourself. You've made it so far and done so well. You're an inspiration to everyone around you." Spencer listened to Derek speaking softly, a smile on his face and silent tears sliding down his cheeks. He felt Derek reach up and wipe his tears with his thumb. Instead of taking his hand back, Spencer felt it cup his face carefully. Spencer shivered as Derek slowly moved from touching his face to running his fingers through his hair.

Spencer let out a soft sigh and scooted even closer to Derek, laying his head on his colleague's chest. Derek responded by wrapping his arm around Spencer's waist. Much to Spencer's surprise, he felt Derek shift slightly and bury his face into his hair. Derek hesitated slightly before letting out a breath and placing a soft kiss on the top of Spencer's head.

It was at that moment that Spencer felt his world shift. Through all of the fog and exhaustion, he was able to feel something new; excitement. It had been a long time since he had felt anything besides pain, so Spencer welcomed this happiness eagerly. His ability to speak was beginning to come back to him.

"What was that for?" Spencer's voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Derek picked up on it. Derek picked up on everything about Spencer.

"That, pretty boy, was for all of the days you felt unloved and unworthy."

"Derek. Please don't call me that. You haven't even seen all of me." Spencer felt the quick inhale of surprise from Derek. Spencer would be surprised too if he had seen what Derek had only to be told there was more.

"Spencer, I don't care how much of your body is scarred. You are perfect just as you are. The only reason I would care about it is to feel sad that it got to the point where you ended up with so many." Derek was stroking Spencer's hair as he spoke.

"No, I don't believe that. You would understand if you saw everything. I'll never be anywhere near pretty." Spencer could feel hot tears threatening to slip out of his eyes.

"Let's get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow, okay? You're not thinking straight right now." Spencer didn't agree - he knew he was thinking just fine - but he nodded his head and buried his face into Derek's chest. He was asleep within minutes, something that hadn't happened in a very, very long time.

Chapter Text

When Spencer opened his eyes the next morning, Derek wasn't beside him anymore. He frowned at the loss. The bed was still warm, and he could hear movement outside of his room, so he knew that Derek was still there. Spencer stretched carefully, wincing when he felt the cuts on his arm stretch in tandem.

"Derek?" His voice came out husky, a result of leftover sleep and the damage his throat had sustained from the yelling of the previous night. The noises of movement stopped suddenly. Spencer furrowed his brow, wondering what his friend was doing. He was halfway out of bed when Derek walked in.

"Hey, good morning, pretty boy," Derek smiled, "how'd you sleep?"

"Fine. Just sore now." Spencer reached up and pushed the heels of his palm into his eyes, rubbing softly.

"How about you let me make you some breakfast while you rest on the couch?" Derek nodded towards the door.

"Are you sure? I can do that, it's no big deal." Spencer was out of bed and on his way to the kitchen in seconds. Derek had already done enough for him, and he wasn't sure how much more he could handle being taken care of before he lost all of his self-respect.

"No, no, it's okay! I've got it. If you're in pain, you should rest." Derek followed Spencer out of the room.

"Derek. I've got i-" Spencer stopped dead in his tracks. He heard Morgan stop short as well so as to not run into him. He had forgotten what a mess everything was. Spencer felt himself panicking at the tight space and turned around swiftly.

"You know what? I think I'll take you up on that. I need to shower anyways." Spencer felt frazzled. He needed to get to the safety of the bathroom as quickly as he could. He looked at Derek, noticing the concern on his face. He couldn't blame him after yesterday.

"Is that the best idea right now? You seem upset." Derek questioned.

"I'm fine, Derek, stop profiling me. We agreed not to do that. I just need a shower." Spencer sighed and headed back to his room to collect a change of clothes.

"Can you-"

"No, I will not leave the door open. I'm not comfortable with that. I'm fine being alone, okay? Stop worrying so much." Spencer cut Derek off before he could get any further.

"Spencer, I understand wanting privacy, but I don't think you being alone is the greatest idea. I'm going to worry, and you can't change that." Derek leaned on the doorway, arms crossed in front of him.

"You know I could make you leave, right? Don't make this harder than it has to be. Please just let me shower with privacy. This isn't a mental hospital." Spencer huffed, pushing past Derek and entering the bathroom.

"Fine. But if it takes longer than fifteen minutes, I'm coming in. Don't even think about locking the door on me." Derek ran his hands over his face. "I'm going to make some breakfast."

"I'll be out soon." Spencer closed the door swiftly and held his breath, waiting to hear Derek walk away. After a few seconds, he heard footsteps slowly begin to head toward the kitchen. Spencer locked the door as quietly as he possibly could. He took off his clothes slowly and examined his body in the mirror. He tried to look at it like an outsider would, someone who had never seen it before.

Spencer's eyes scanned his body, trying to imagine what Derek would think if he could see how damaged he was. He grimaced at the thought. The anxiety he had felt at entering the kitchen was beginning to bubble over, compounded by seeing himself in the mirror and knowing that Derek was waiting for him outside. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he reached for the drawer containing his blade. Spencer knew how horrible of an idea it was, but he couldn't help himself.

He was careful not to make too much noise as he opened the drawer. Spencer reached to the back, waiting for his fingers to brush the wrapping around his tool, but it never came. His eyes widened as he opened the drawer further. Much to his dismay, it was gone. He knew immediately that it had to have been Derek.

With anger running through his veins and swirling together with his anxiety, Spencer couldn't help but slam the drawer shut. His hands were shaking and he could feel himself falling even deeper into the spiral that had begun in the kitchen.

"Spencer?" He heard Derek approaching the door again. "Spencer, are you okay?"

"What did you do? Where is it?" Spencer screeched, panic overtaking him. He was opening drawers and cabinets, dumping out the trash and sifting through it just to find his precious release.

"Let me in, Spencer. We can talk about this." Spencer heard the doorknob jiggle and Derek's huff of frustration at being locked out.

"No! No, you- you ruined everything! I needed that! You can't just take it!"

"Yes, I can. Please just unlock the door." Derek's voice was stern now, almost scary. Spencer was too far gone to let it bother him. There was a huge mess on the floor from his ripping apart the cabinets, and Spencer had to push some of it out of the way as he slid down the wall. He leaned his back against the bathtub in defeat. Spencer knew there was no way it was still in the bathroom with him; he had lost.

"Can't." Spencer gasped out, panicking hard now. He was tugging on his hair, scratching his arms vigorously - careful to avoid the bandaging - and breathing heavily. There was no way he could stand and definitely no way he wanted Derek to see him like this. Not only was Spencer in a state of full-blown panic, but he was also completely undressed, meaning every horrible piece of himself was on display.

"Spencer, I'm coming in. If you're near the door you should move." This scared Spencer horribly.

"No, no, don't do that. Please. It's not like I have anything anyways." He spit the last sentence out bitterly.

Before he could say anything else, Spencer heard a click from the door. Derek had picked the lock. Damn FBI training. He quickly pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. This position provided Spencer with the most privacy possible. He had his eyes shut tightly and he was shaking, something that worsened when he heard the door open fully and Derek begin to slowly approach him.

"Spencer. Hey, it's okay, you're okay. Here, take these, I'll turn around." Derek swiped Spencer's boxers off of the counter and handed them over while Spencer opened his eyes and watched him nervously. His colleague then turned around. He quickly scooted and pulled on his boxers before resuming his previous position.

"How could you." Spencer whimpered.

"I couldn't let you keep hurting yourself. You know it isn't healthy. Taking the blade away won't stop you in the future, but it can prevent anything from happening in this current moment." Derek sat down beside Spencer.

"But I need it." Spencer whimpered again, fully aware of how pathetic he sounded.

"No, you don't. You just need to find something else that works." Derek responded firmly.

"Nothing else works, I've tried everything. I promise you, if I knew a different way to handle this, I would have. This is better than going back to Dilaudid, at least." There was no more fight left in Spencer. His arms were raw and stinging from the scratches he had inflicted; the immense amount of scarring on his body was on full display, highlighted by his inflamed skin. The dressing from Spencer's incident the night before was bloody. All of the scratching and quick movements must have opened them up again.

"Spencer. Replacing one unhealthy coping mechanism with another is not 'better'. C'mon man, you know all of this. Why can't you see it?" Derek sighed heavily.

"It's different when it's you. I can't explain it. It just is." Spencer's head dropped between his knees and he hugged his legs tighter to his body. His face was completely out of view from Derek's.

"Oh, pretty boy. I'm so sorry." Derek reached out slowly and began running his hands through Spencer's hair.

Spencer shook his head softly, refusing to look back up. He was mortified at what was happening. Derek Morgan, his colleague and friend, was sitting next to him and petting his hair on the cold bathroom floor while he sat quivering, wearing only boxers. It was horrifying.

"It's fine. It's nothing. Really." Spencer refused to see the other side: how what he was doing is extremely destructive and how nobody should ever be engaging in such behavior. It was his normal, and he hated change.

"It's not. It's really not. It is something; it's everything;" Derek's voice cracked mid-sentence, "you deserve to be happy and healthy instead of having to rely on this for comfort. You deserve the world, pretty boy." Spencer felt Derek carefully wrap an arm around him, slowly pulling him toward his chest.

The physical contact undid him. Spencer started crying, crying harder than he ever had before. Not in the shed, not after meltdowns, not even after being shot. These tears had built up for years. Spencer wailed and curled around so his face was buried in Derek's chest. He was holding Derek's shirt like his life depended on it, knuckles white and muscles taut.

"Derek, Derek, please make it stop, it- it hurts!" Spencer was gasping, words coming out in rasps. "I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please don't make me do this anymore." Tears were soaking Derek's shirt as he spilled his heart out for Derek to view in all of its ugliness.

"You're okay, Spencer. Everything will be okay." Derek's arms wrapped around Spencer and squeezed as he whispered in an attempt to help him through his agony. Derek cupped his hand around the back of Spencer's head and ran his thumb up and down in a calming motion. "Cry, pretty boy, let it out. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

Spencer sobbed hard into Derek's shirt. He couldn't fathom the idea of someone caring about him so much, caring to the point of holding him at his weakest moment. He was falling apart right in front of the man, and instead of Derek walking away in fear, he held Spencer's broken pieces together.

"Please," Spencer cried, "please make it stop. I don't want to be here anymore." At this admission, Spencer moved, hands loosening their grip and opting to wrap around Derek's neck instead. He felt Derek pull him into a hug, squeezing tightly. He loved that Derek knew what he needed without having to say a word first.

Spencer let himself unravel, let every dirty thought out through hot and heavy tears. Derek would occasionally murmur things in his ear and continued to stroke his hair. There were times when Spencer thought he felt soft kisses planted on the top of his head, but he couldn't be sure if it was real or if he had imagined it.

When Spencer finally came to, he slowly pulled backward, Derek letting go of the hug. He sniffled softly and rubbed his eyes with his palms. He kept them shut for a minute longer, the lights too bright. Spencer must have made some sort of grunt because he felt Derek move over and flick the light switch. When he opened his eyes, the room had fallen into shadow. The only light in the dim room was coming from the small tinted window above the shower.

"Uh. Sorry about that," Spencer rasped, "that's not usually what I'm like. I'm so- so sorry. So embarrassed." He shook his head and kept his eyes on the ground while he fiddled with his fingers.

"Hey, don't apologize. It's okay. I'm here because I care about you, and nothing you say or do can scare me away." Derek reached up and tucked one of Spencer's stray hairs behind his ear to expose his face. It was then that Spencer looked up, really looked at Derek. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before gaining the courage to speak.

"Thank you." Spencer felt that the statement was too small after everything, but he didn't know how else to encapsulate the emotions coursing through his body. He shivered slightly and wrapped his arms around himself. Even though it hurt, he refused to break eye contact.

"Always, pretty boy," Derek smiled and then hesitated before asking, "Is it okay if I touch you?"

"Um. I guess," Spencer replied anxiously, "That's fine." He tried not to let the growing excitement inside of him show. Despite everything, Derek still managed to put knots in his stomach.

He watched as Derek reached out and laid a hand softly on his arm. Spencer shivered under his touch, looking straight into Derek's eyes as the man began to run his fingers over Spencer's scars. He watched as Derek's gaze slid from Spencer's eyes to his arms, exploring the ridges on his skin.

"I'm sorry, I know it's disgusting." Spencer whispered, feeling extremely exposed, yet somehow safe. If he hadn't have run out of tears already, he would start crying again.

"Oh Spencer, you're not disgusting. You're everything but disgusting. You're my pretty boy, remember?" Derek continued exploring Spencer's body as he spoke. "The way I see it," Derek moved to run his fingers over his chest, "these make you even more beautiful. It shows just how strong you are." Spencer was holding his breath, entranced by the feeling of Derek's fingertips tracing the scars on his torso.

"I- I don't know what to say." Spencer wasn't even sure how he was managing to get words out.

"That's okay. Can I ask you some questions?" Derek inquired.

"Uh, sure." Spencer shifted uncomfortably; it felt as though Derek's fingers were shooting strikes of lightning under his skin.

"Where did it start? Was it here," Derek touched Spencer's forearm softly, "or was it here?" He moved his hand to Spencer's thigh, tracing over long-healed white scars. "Or maybe here?" His hands drifted up to Spencer's torso.

"It was here." Spencer reached down and put his hand over Derek's, leading it to his left arm just above the wrist. "I, um, I did this at nine years old. It didn't take long for my arms to fill. I did it daily, sometimes more than once. So I moved to my thighs. And then my hips, my chest, my stomach. Anywhere I could hide." He couldn't believe he was telling this to anyone. Spencer had promised himself that he would never tell a soul, but here he was. Derek Morgan was the only person in the world he could trust enough to divulge this information to.

"You were nine? That's awful, Spencer. I'm so sorry." Derek sighed.

"It's okay." Spencer lifted his hand and allowed Derek to run his fingers up and down his arm. It was then that Derek's brows furrowed and his hand stopped moving. Spencer held his breath as Derek moved his head closer, trying to get a better look at his arm through the shadows. He knew what was coming. It was a surprise that Derek missed it the other day; his luck had run out.

"Spencer. What- what's this?" Derek asked slowly. He pointed towards an old scar, barely noticeable beneath the newer, darker scars covering it. It ran vertically up Spencer's arm and was obviously deeper than the rest.

"I think you know." Spencer felt his face flushing with embarrassment.

"I need you to tell me. I will not make an assumption about something like this, Spencer." Derek's voice shook slightly and he coughed in an attempt to cover it.

"Derek, please don't make me say it..." Spencer protested weakly.

"I'm sorry, but I have to hear it from you. I don't want to make any assumptions." Derek tilted his head and looked right into Spencer's eyes.

"I tried to kill myself, okay?" Spencer burst out, pulling his arm back and frowning in frustration.

"When?" Derek's voice was barely audible.

"When I was 9. And again at 11. And 12. Oh, and also 15. This one is the result of my first and second attempts. When that didn't work, I moved to, um, trying other methods." Spencer looked down at his arms and grimaced. "The thoughts never did go away, though."

"Shit. Four attempts before you even hit 16? You were so young, I- I can't even imagine." Spencer watched as Derek shook his head slowly. "You said some things earlier that I have to ask you about. During your breakdown, you said that you didn't want to do this anymore. Spencer, are you suicidal?"

Spencer felt his heart stop. Hearing the question from someone out loud was disconcerting, especially since it came from a friend. He wasn't even sure how to answer. He couldn't remember the last time he wasn't. He had just gotten better about not acting on the thoughts.

"The better question would be 'Spencer, have you ever not been suicidal?'." Spencer let out a small, uncanny laugh and began to curl in on himself again. Whenever he shared information even remotely personal, he tended to tighten up and make his body as small as he could.

"What does that even mean?" Derek grunted, sounding frustrated at the ambiguous response.

"It means I don't remember the last time I didn't feel suicidal. I just haven't tried again. So I guess I'm managing alright." Spencer tilted his head, observing Derek for a reaction. Disappointment and a heavy sort of sadness weighed down on the man's face. Spencer bit his lip, wondering if he had said too much. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his friends.

"Spencer," Derek moved closer to his curled frame, "let me help you get some clothes on, and then you should try to rest. I'll be right there with you." Spencer looked up and loosened his muscles slightly. He was confused by the change of subject, but glad to not deal with any judgment.

"When we get back to the bed, can you- will you hold me again? I can't take the loneliness anymore." Spencer confessed, averting his eyes shyly.

"Of course, pretty boy. Anything you need." Derek's eyes softened at the request. Spencer allowed Derek to help him get on his feet. He winced as he felt the friction of his moist bandage against his cuts. Derek looked down and noticed the blood that had begun to soak through and quickly moved into action.

"Oh, Derek, I can do this, it's not a big deal. It's an ugly job, and I don't want you to have to do it again." Spencer insisted as he watched Derek begin to collect the supplies to redress the wounds.

"I've got you. Just sit down here," Derek motioned to the toilet seat, "and I'll get everything fixed up for you. I'm going to have to turn the lights on, so be prepared for that." Spencer squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding overhead light and silently allowed Derek to begin working on his arm. Instead of watching him like before, Spencer opted to keep his eyes closed so as to not see what was happening. He didn't want to further trigger himself.

"Thanks." Spencer was running out of words again.

"Of course, pretty boy. Anything for you. You don't ever have to be alone again." Spencer smiled softly and let Derek finish cleaning and bandaging him in silence.

"Alright, Spencer, all done!" Derek sat the leftover supplies on the counter and reached out to help Spencer stand up.

The two men walked back to the bedroom. Spencer allowed Derek to help him to bed and watched as the man crawled in next to him. As soon as Derek pulled the covers over them, Spencer melted into him, sighing in contentment as the two interlaced.

"I don't think I can do this on my own anymore." Spencer croaked, voice still scratchy from his breakdown. He buried his head into Derek's neck in an attempt to self-soothe.

"You never have to do it alone ever again, pretty boy. I don't care what happens, I'm going to stand by your side the whole way." Derek cooed in his ear and Spencer smiled.

"Thank you for seeing my broken pieces and holding them together instead of letting them fall and shatter. I haven't had anyone do that in a long, long time. I'm not easy, I'm a burden at times, and I am so sorry for that. I just have to apologize in advance." Spencer sniffled softly.

"Spencer, I'm honored to be the one to see behind your walls. You will never, and I mean never, be a burden to me. We'll figure this out, you and me. Okay?" Derek ran his hand up and down Spencer's back in a slow and soothing manner.

"You and me. Derek and Spencer. Okay. Okay, I think I can do that." Spencer took a deep breath, taking in Derek's scent with a smile. He could get used to this.

Chapter Text

It didn't take long for Spencer to drift off to sleep, and when he woke, he realized Derek wasn't in the bed. He panicked for a minute, scared that yet another person had left him. He calmed down slightly when he heard movement in the other room.

    Grunting, Spencer crawled out of bed and stretched. He followed the sound to the living room, stumbling down the hallway. His unsteady feet gave his presence away immediately and he saw Derek look up at him from the couch and smile. Spencer looked away, uncomfortable with the eye contact and still flustered from the last dregs of sleep still clutching onto him. It was then that he got a good look at the room.

    "Derek, how- what- when did you do this?" Spencer gasped, taking in the sight of his living room. The books he had left scattered on the floor were now placed back in their respective spots on his bookcase, food wrappers and soda cans relocated to the garbage and recycle bins - which must have been taken out already, because the bins were empty - and all of his knickknacks gently placed out on the various surfaces in the room. It was a complete and total change.

    "I woke up from our nap before you, so I went ahead and did this. I hope I put everything back in a good place, I wasn't sure where some of it belonged." Derek was grinning at Spencer's surprise, obviously ecstatic that Spencer could have somewhere to feel comfortable again.

    "Wow. Thank you so much!" He smiled softly before continuing, "Um, let me just," Spencer was mumbling as he walked around the room and carefully moved around the various knickknacks, "this is where I usually keep them. Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, it's just that order is really important to me..." He stood and carefully readjusted the candle on his bookcase, turning it around to face the right direction and scooting it ever-so-slightly to the side so it sat directly in the middle of the section it was in. Spencer could feel Derek's eyes on him and he bit his lip as he waited for Derek to speak.

    "Hey, it's fine. I understand you putting things back to their original spots, there's no need to apologize." Spencer turned to see the furrow forming on Derek's brow as he spoke. "What's up with the precision?" Derek's head tilted as he asked the question.

    "Um. I have OCD, it came with the autism. It manifests for me as precision, routine, and doing certain things in weird ways because it makes me feel better. And always doing things in even numbers." Spencer answered, face flushed in embarrassment. He was already feeling exposed from the previous night and this admission wasn't helping him feel any better.

    "Oh, that makes sense. How come I never see these things at work? Everything seems to be pretty intense here but you're so composed during the job." Derek didn't seem to be judging him, so Spencer decided to continue answering his questions.

    "I'm really good at masking. Putting up a front. It isn't until I get home that this," Spencer gestured to the room, "kind of thing happens. I bottle it up there and only let it out here."

    "That doesn't sound very healthy, pretty boy." Derek said, sounding slightly concerned.

    "It's better than losing it and having a meltdown at work. It wouldn't look good for anyone on the team if someone found me slitting my wrists in the FBI bathrooms." Spencer shot back, irritation beginning to bubble up. He was tired of being judged for the things he did to stay sane. Derek flinched at his frank response.

    "Spencer, that's not what I meant. Of course I don't want you to, um," Derek stumbled over his words as he searched for a better way of putting Spencer's statement, "to hurt yourself at work. I just worry that bottling it up may be contributing to all of this."

    "All of this?" Spencer asked heatedly.

    "The depression, fatigue, cutting, all of this horrible stuff you're dealing with." Derek responded calmly, opting to ignore Spencer's growing attitude.

    "If it's not affecting my work, then it's not a big deal. I can handle myself when I'm not working. To be fair, I'm almost always working with this job, so it's definitely not a big deal. Can you just leave it?" Spencer snapped. He was getting really sick of being treated like a child who couldn't handle himself.

    "Spencer, you're our genius. You really don't see a problem with what you're doing?" Derek probed. Spencer could tell that his friend was trying to gauge the right amount of questioning between too much and too little, so he decided to give it to him straight.

    "Look, I see you trying to figure out if you should keep asking questions. The answer: don't. I am becoming very upset with you, and I don't necessarily want to be. Please just trust me. I'm a capable adult, not an incompetent child." Bitterness curled around the words as they left Spencer's mouth, billowing out like smoke and spilling into the stagnant room. Derek sighed and Spencer prepared himself for another lecture.

    "Okay. I didn't mean to make you think I was trying to baby you. I just want to see you happy and healthy." Derek refused to break eye contact as he spoke. Spencer knew the man was trying to force him to accept his words, but he instead walked towards the coffee table. He snatched up the paperwork he had to do and started walking away.

    "I've got to work. I need to be in a quiet place and alone, please just give me a few hours. I have to have the full ability to focus and that picture does not include you." Spencer spoke dictatorially. He left no room for complaint from Derek.

    "Okay. Just... could you-"

    "No, I'm not leaving my door open or cracked in any capacity. I will do whatever I need to do to get my work done and you can't stop me. You can go home if you'd like, I don't care." Spencer spoke with finality and spun around, stalking to his room and just barely managing to stop himself from slamming the door. A quiet click sounded as he locked it behind him. "So much for having a person to feel comfortable around." Spencer grumbled as he tossed the paperwork on his desk.

    Now that he was out of the room with Derek, Spencer's adrenaline began to crash and anxiety replaced it. He started flapping his hands in an attempt to regulate himself but realized very quickly that it wouldn't be enough. He knew he had two options here; try using a stim toy and some calming music to bring himself down or find a sharp object. It didn't take Spencer but a second to decide what he wanted to do. Screw Derek, screw recovery, screw everyone and everything. If he wanted to cut, that was his decision and nobody else's.

    The only problem now was finding something to use. Spencer was still upset over losing his usual blade, but he was less torn up after remembering the spares he kept in his go bag. He had never used one at work, but he wanted to be prepared in case he needed to. Having them on hand quelled some of his anxiety.

    Getting to a bathroom wasn't going to be an issue. Spencer had another one, a master bathroom connected to his bedroom that he never used because it was too far from the front door; he was worried he wouldn't be able to hear if someone broke in. It was too isolating and anxiety-inducing. The only thing Spencer ever used that bathroom for was the mirror and occasionally for the toilet in the middle of the night. He had thought of stashing a tool in there but never actually got to it, something he now wished he had done.

    Spencer shuffled over to his bag and reached into the small zippered pocket on the inside. When his fingers brushed over the blade, he felt a weight already beginning to fall off of his shoulders. He was well aware of the risk he was taking, given that Derek was in the other room, but he couldn't stop himself. Spencer needed to cut.

    He entered the sparsely-decorated bathroom slowly. Spencer debated whether or not to close the door and eventually decided he would do so, just to be safe. He made sure to lock it as well, careful not to make too much noise. Spencer tossed the blade on the counter and looked up at himself in the mirror.

    The man looking back at him couldn't be himself. His eyes were sunken into his skin, so  dark he looked bruised. He was pale as a ghost and looked like he had just seen one. His body was gaunt and every piece of him looked as though it was in a stage of decomposition. Spencer blinked, and the man blinked back. No wonder Derek had been so worried about him; he looked like death reincarnate.

    Spencer forced his eyes to tear away from the mirror and focus on the blade in front of him. He reached out and gripped in between his thumb and pointer finger, raising it slowly. With his left arm already ravaged from the previous day, Spencer pulled up the sleeve on his right arm. His left hand wasn't as steady as his right - he was right-handed, after all - but he didn't really care about how the cuts ended up looking. The scars would just blend in with the others eventually anyway.

    Without a second thought, Spencer brought the blade to his skin and pressed it down, sliding it slowly across his pale arm. He let out a breath of relief when he felt the familiar sting. He could already feel his body softening, muscles starting to release the tension built up from the argument with Derek.

    Once he started, he couldn't stop. Spencer dissociated and let out all of the self-loathing, embarrassment, discomfort, and anger he was harboring. He was gaining control over himself again. He was his, not anyone else's, and he wouldn't be controlled by anyone who didn't know what it felt like to be him. Spencer cared about Derek and what he thought, but not enough to stop cutting. He needed this.

    Spencer wasn't sure how long he had been cutting when he came to. Everything was still fuzzy, and nothing was processing quite right. All he could see was blood and cuts - fuck, so many cuts - and he could feel his eyes squinting against the light. Spencer blinked hard and reached up again to continue, pressing the blade down and beginning to slide it again. As he did so, he felt a force ripping his left hand away from his right arm, preventing him from finishing the cut he was halfway through making.

    Spencer snapped back to consciousness, everything hitting him all at once. He felt the searing pain in his right arm, the slickness of both fresh and congealed blood on and around him, and a tight grasp around his left wrist that forced the blade to fall from his fingers. It clattered on the floor just as Spencer began to realize what had pulled his arm away.

    "Spencer, look at me, right now! Spencer!" Derek Morgan was crouching in front of him. Spencer looked around, confused about how he managed to find himself on the floor. He cringed at Derek's shrill yelling and Derek immediately lowered his voice. "Pretty boy, I need you to come back to me. Look at me, it's okay."

    "Uh. Um. Oh." Spencer couldn't form any words through the shock of being shaken out of his dissociative state. His eyes were wide and frantic, and he looked like a wild animal as they darted around the room and finally landed squarely on Derek. "Fuck." Spencer gasped, the curse flying out of him.

    "You're okay, Spencer. Please calm down. I'm so sorry for yelling." Derek spoke soothingly. Spencer hadn't even realized the panic-induced hyperventilating that had begun until then and attempted to slow his breathing down. Yelling was especially triggering for him. Luckily, the pain in his arm was helping to fully ground him. He felt himself nodding in response, words failing him.

    "Alright pretty boy, I need to clean your arm so I can assess the wounds, okay?" Spencer shook his head violently, curling in on himself so nothing could touch him. He knew he was soiling his clothes but couldn't find it in himself to care. It wouldn't be the first time Spencer lost an outfit to blood stains. He wrapped his arms around his core, wincing as the fabric scratched at his injuries. He could feel his whole body shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

    "I'm a leaf," Spencer babbled, words almost incoherent in his half-aware rambling, "I'm a leaf I'm a leaf I'm a leaf..."

    "You're a- a leaf?" Derek asked, very confused.

    "Mhm. A leaf. A leaf. Life is," Spencer unraveled slightly to wave his hands in the air, "life is a hurricane."

    "You're a leaf and life is a hurricane?" Derek furrowed his brows even further when Spencer nodded to affirm the statement. "What does that mean, pretty boy?"

    "Leaf versus hurricane. Who wins?" Spencer's glazed eyes met Derek's with sudden clarity, eyes piercing through his friend's soul.

    "Well, that depends on-" Derek began to speak but didn't get very far.

    "No. No 'depends'. Leaf or hurricane." Spencer cut him off quickly.

    "Well, sometimes the leaf does." Derek said uncertainly.

    "Not very often though. Almost never. Especially in a Category 5. Are you really telling me a leaf could weather out a Cat. 5?" Spencer challenged Derek angrily. He wouldn't - couldn't - let Derek win another argument.

    "Okay, okay, I'll drop it. But I need to see your arm, Spencer. You need them cleaned so you won't get infected." Spencer was surprised Derek gave up so quickly. He was a little disappointed; he was prepared and almost excited at the prospect of yelling at someone.

    "Could you just shut up and leave me alone for once? I just need some peace and quiet." Spencer growled. He watched in pleasure as Derek's eyes grew wider and anger flashed behind them.

    "What, would you rather me leave you here to bleed out and die?" Derek quipped back.

    The comment caused Spencer to falter. Is that what he wanted? Maybe. Probably. Why wouldn't he? After everything he had been through, would anyone even blame him? Spencer had never really considered the fact that his friends would probably understand. They didn't know the half of what he had been through during his life, and yet he knew they wouldn't blame him for reaching for peace. Spencer was lost in thought when Derek spoke.

    "Don't tell me you're actually considering it, Spencer." Derek said incredulously.

    "Well. Wouldn't you, after all of this?" Spencer sighed and his body slumped over further, exhaustion evident in his frame.

    "Spencer. I did consider it when I was younger. After," Derek sucked in a deep breath before continuing, "after Carl Buford." This got Spencer's attention.

    "You did?" Spencer whispered, shy eyes raising to look at Derek.

    "I did. But I never went through with it. Do you want to know why?" Derek was playing with his fingers, something Spencer recognized immediately as self-soothing, pacifying behavior. It was the man's tell. Spencer reached out with his uninjured arm and grabbed Derek's fidgeting hand, rubbing soothing circles on the palm with his thumb.

    "Yes, I'd like to know why." Spencer stopped moving his thumb but didn't take his hand back. He opted to slide his fingers through his friend's instead.

    "I didn't kill myself because I knew the world needed me. The world needed Derek Morgan, needed whatever I was going to do with my life. Everything has a purpose, a reason to exist. So I kept going in search of that purpose. And I found it." Derek smiled and squeezed Spencer's hand. "Pretty boy, the world needs you. I need you. There is only one Spencer Reid, and I never want to see him leave."

    "That's- that is very sweet. I'm not sure how I feel about myself though. I don't think the world necessarily needs me. I'm sure there are plenty of smart people out there."

    "But there's no other Spencer Reid." Derek slowly moved his hand out of Spencer's. "Let me clean your arm, please. We can talk afterward."

    "Okay," Spencer spoke softly, words becoming difficult again. He silently unraveled his arm from his torso and offered it to Derek. "'M sorry."

    "Don't be sorry, pretty boy. No more saying sorry. Now you just sit tight and I'll get this finished." Derek's voice was lulling Spencer closer to sleep, fatigue sieging a war on his body.

    "I'm really sleepy." Spencer sighed, his eyes closing and his head falling back against the wall.

    "I know, I'm sure you are. Nightmares cause some pretty rough sleep disturbances. Not to mention that physical pain causes fatigue. But you'll be okay." Derek hummed as he began to wet a washcloth to clean the skin around the cuts. Spencer listened to him bend down and reposition the first-aid kit sitting next to them. A sudden moment of clarity hit Spencer.

    "How did you know to bring that? How- how did you even get in and find me?" Spencer's eyes opened and squinted at Derek. He was shocked at how dissociated he had been, the fact he didn't hear anything or even realize his friend was in the room until Derek touched him.

    "You weren't answering me, so I picked the lock on your door," Derek spoke sheepishly, "and when you weren't in your room I came to this bathroom to try to get you to open it, but you wouldn't respond. That's when I ran to get the kit and came back to pick the lock."

    "You were trying to get me to open it?"

    "Pretty boy, I was banging on the door and yelling. Did you not hear me?" Derek seemed confused and concerned.

    "No... I didn't hear anything. I don't think I really felt anything, either." Spencer whispered, brows furrowed.

    "Could you see what you were doing?"

    "I can't remember. I must have, but it was weird. One second I was making the first cut and the next you're sitting in front of me making me stop."

    "Spencer, it sounds like you dissociated." Derek finished with the washcloth and moved on to preparing bandages.

    "Yeah. I know. It happens sometimes" Spencer looked down at his arm and flinched. "Fuck. I didn't even realize how much I had done." His entire forearm was covered in cuts, some long and thin while others were shorter but deeper. Spencer couldn't remember the last time he did so much destruction in one session.

    "This is what I was afraid of. You can't keep doing this to yourself." Derek sighed as he finished applying butterfly bandages and moved on to gauze and an arm wrap to hold it in place.

    "Derek, I- I don't remember the last time something like this happened. I promise, it's fine, I'll figure it out." Spencer waved his hand indifferently.

    "Hell no. Absolutely not. I've been gentle with you, but that's going to have to end. The fact that something like this has happened before, whether years ago or recently, proves that you need help. I can't let this keep happening man - what if you accidentally went too deep and ended up dead? That would be no good for anyone." Derek spoke strongly, emphasizing his point by directing Spencer's gaze down to his halfway-bandaged arm.

"You can't make me do shit, Derek. I don't care how mean you get with me. I'm sure whatever you say or do would barely measure up to anything I went through as a child. I learned a long time ago how to not be phased by anger." Spencer retorted, not even realizing what he had just revealed.

"Spencer..." Derek's countenance fell as he took a deep breath and said, "Is that why you started doing this?"

"Yes. Happy to get all your answers now?" Spencer grumbled and flinched at the stabs of pain while Derek finished wrapping his arm.

"No, I'm not happy. You just insinuated that you grew up in an abusive household. That absolutely does not make me happy." Derek frowned as he moved the first-aid kit away and met Spencer's eyes.

"I mean, you already know about my mom. Is it really that surprising?" Spencer huffed.

"What about- where was your dad? Did he intervene at all?" Derek questioned, head tilting slightly.

"Oh, oh, Derek, no," Spencer chuckled, "my dad was the real problem."

"What did he do?"

"Uh. A lot of things. I don't really want to go into it right now, just know I have issues with yelling, sudden movements, and- and intimacy." Spencer flushed slightly at the admission, knowing that Derek would understand exactly what he meant.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry." Derek ran his hands down his thighs, something that Spencer immediately detected as discomfort.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." Spencer pushed off the floor quickly and went to exit the bathroom. He felt horrible for bringing it up when Derek also had problems with past abuse. For all he knew, he had just triggered his friend.

"Pretty boy, stop. It's okay. I'm glad you told me." Derek stuck an arm out in front of the doorway, stopping him from leaving the bathroom. "Let me help you to your bed and get a change of clothes for you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, alright." It wasn't his first choice, but Spencer knew he needed help. He was slumped against the wall and barely able to stand. He knew he wouldn't be able to reach the bed on his own. Typically, in a situation like this, Spencer would simply nap on the bathroom floor, so he was internally grateful that Derek found him. He would never admit it, though.

Spencer allowed Derek to loop an arm around his waist and take some of his weight. As he leaned on the man's body, Spencer allowed himself to sink into the warmth and be guided by Derek. He would go back to hating Derek after he woke up. For now, this was okay.

Chapter Text

“Alright, careful,” Derek guided Spencer to his bed and gently lowered him, “there you go.” Spencer landed heavily on the bed, immediately trying to lie down. “Hey, pretty boy, wait a second. I know it’s hard, but you need to stay awake so I can change your shirt. Lean against the headboard.” Spencer sighed and reluctantly did as he was told. He watched Derek shamelessly; the way his muscles rippled under his shirt when he opened the closet, his hands as he grabbed the shirt, the gentle look in his eyes as he walked back over, shirt in hand. Spencer reached out to grab the clothing. He paused upon seeing the clothes up close. 

“Derek, this is a short sleeve shirt.  I don’t wear those when I’m not alone.” Spencer’s hand hovered hesitantly, unsure whether to take the item Derek was offering. 

“You should probably not wear a long-sleeved shirt. It would rub the bandages, and they need extra care.” Derek must have seen the scared, panicky look in Spencer’s eyes because he continued with, “I’m not going to judge you, pretty boy. Don’t worry about that.” 

“I know, it’s just that I haven’t worn them around someone in so long that it feels wrong. An automated response of immediate panic. I just feel so exposed in them.” Spencer shivered at the thought. “But I’ll wear it.” He wrapped his slender fingers around the fabric, hands shaking. Spencer set the shirt down on his lap as he went to take the bloody one he currently was sporting off. It didn’t take him long to realize that between the shakiness, exhaustion, and sharp pains in his arm, he wouldn’t be able to take it off on his own. Derek noticed the struggle and jumped in to help.

“Here, I’ve got this pretty boy. Let me help.” Spencer tensed when he felt Derek’s fingertips brush lightly against the exposed skin on his lower abdomen as he lifted the bottom of the shirt. Derek noticed his change in body language and moved his hands further away from Spencer’s body. Spencer wouldn’t admit it, but he was disappointed at the loss of contact. After struggling to get the shirt over Spencer’s head, Derek finally managed to rid him of the blood-stained shirt. 

“Do you want me to help you put this one on?” Derek motioned to the t-shirt in Spencer’s lap. Spencer nodded timidly and handed the shirt over, suppressing a flinch from the spark that flared as their hands touched. He didn’t know what was happening, but Spencer was beginning to become concerned. He had never really felt anything like this before.

Derek motioned for Spencer to raise his arms over his head and he complied. The exposed feeling that came from being shirtless didn’t go away after the t-shirt was on, and he wrapped his arms around his middle again in a futile attempt to maintain some level of privacy. Why he bothered was beyond him; Derek had already seen everything. 

“Thanks.” Spencer mumbled as he slid down beneath the covers of his bed and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t think I can work on paperwork today. I know I should, but I don’t think I can…” 

“That’s okay. It’s Sunday, so you’re not required to do paperwork. I know you like to do it on weekends but you probably shouldn’t this time. Just get some rest, alright? I’ll call Hotch and we can call out tomorrow. We both have sick days.” Derek crooned, softly running his fingers over Spencer’s forehead. At the last sentences, Spencer’s eyes popped open.

“No, I can’t miss work. No. Nuh-uh. I have to go.” Spencer protested, sitting up quickly despite the pain radiating up his arm. He knew he must look crazy; hair sticking up, eyes wild, mouth turned down from worry. Not to mention the bandages around both of his arms.

“Pretty boy, no, you can’t go in like this. You need to take some time. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ll be right here with you the whole time.” 

“I have to. Work is what keeps me sane, Derek!”

“It also caused this, so I’m not sure you’re completely accurate in that statement.” Derek looked pointedly at Spencer’s heavily bandaged arms. Spencer flinched, wishing Derek would stop doing that. He already knew what a mistake he made. What a mistake he was .

“Yeah, well, I think I know what’s going on in my head better than you do.” Spencer crossed his arms and glared at Derek like a child disobeying his parents. 

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry for assuming. I’m sorry.” Derek wiped a hand across his face. After hearing the apology Spencer visibly relaxed, laying back down slowly. He felt weirdly alone without Derek next to him. Even though he was mad at the man, he still felt a need for his closeness. 

“Pretty boy, I’m going to go put this shirt in the wash and give Hotch a call.” Derek swiped the shirt off the bed in one swift motion. Spencer felt his anxiety spiking as he watched his friend walk away. It was only an hour or so ago that he wanted Derek to leave him alone, but now he didn’t want to lose sight of him. 

“Wait,” Spencer called out to Derek, who stopped and turned to look back, “Could you stay with me? I don’t- I want to be close to someone. I know I just wanted something different and it’s weird that I changed my mind out of nowhere and I’m sorry, I just-”

“Spencer, stop rambling. Of course I’ll stay with you. Let me throw this in the wash quickly and I’ll be back before you know it.” Derek smiled softly at Spencer before turning and exiting the room. Spencer pulled the covers higher, burying his head underneath and taking in the calm of complete darkness. Only when he heard Derek return did he peek his head out. 

“Hi,” Spencer whispered.

“Hi,” Derek responded quietly as he gently let himself under the covers.

“Thank you.” Spencer’s ability to speak was fading away, sentences dissipating before they could pass his lips. 

“Always.” A smile wormed onto Spencer’s face and he turned over to face Derek. Derek was half-sitting, half-laying in the bed, back leaning against pillows and head against the headboard. Spencer didn’t want to leave the safety of his comforter but he did want to be as close to his friend as possible. He decided that his best course of action was to wrap around Derek’s waist and nuzzle his face into the man’s side just below his chest. 

“I’m tired.” Spencer’s voice was slurred and muffled, but Derek heard it. Spencer felt Derek reach down and begin to run his fingers through his hair. He smiled into his friend’s side and let out a soft breath of contentment. However, despite being exhausted, Spencer couldn’t fall asleep. He simply lay there, still and quiet, taking in Derek’s presence.

After ten minutes of silence that was only interrupted by the sound of fingers running gently through hair, Spencer felt slight shuffling and realized that Derek was reaching into his pocket for his phone. The man was probably going to call their boss, Spencer concluded. While the idea scared him, he knew it was the right thing to do, so Spencer allowed his friend to dial Hotch’s number without interruption. Spencer pretended to be asleep so as to hear the conversation. He knew eavesdropping wasn’t right, but he couldn’t help it, especially since he was close enough to hear everything. The phone rang twice before Hotch answered.

“ Hotchner.”

“Hey, it’s Morgan.”

“ Everything okay? You don’t typically call over the weekend.” 

“I’m fine, this isn’t about me…” Spencer could feel the tension and hesitation radiating off of Derek. 

“Who is it, then?” 

“It’s Spencer. He’s- well, he’s not doing great. I think we may need to take Monday as a sick day. I want to stay with him to make sure he’s alright.”

“I see. Did he catch the flu? I hear that’s been going around.”

“Hah, um, no, he’s not physically sick. Well, he kind of is. I don’t know how to explain it, Hotch.” Even through the difficult conversation, Spencer still felt Derek’s hand running through his hair. The soothing rhythm of the gesture was enough to make the grown man want to cry.

“ I’m not sure I follow.”

“He’s mentally unwell, which is causing the physical problems.” It was obvious that Derek was afraid of saying too much. Spencer felt sorry for him; he had put Derek in a difficult situation.

“ Morgan, I need you to be honest with me. Is he- is he using again?” Spencer stifled a gasp. This was the first time he had confirmation that Hotch had known about his addiction. He had an inkling, but they never talked about it, so he never bothered asking. 

“No, no, it’s not that.” Derek sighed. 

“Whatever it is, I need you to tell me. If Spencer finds out that you told me what is going on, I’ll let him know I forced it out of you. Just tell me, Morgan.”

“Hotch… it’s bad. It’s really, really bad. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Just start from the beginning.” Spencer braced himself for the following conversation. He was terrified of hearing Hotch’s reaction. 

“Well, I brought Spencer home after the case, as you know. I could tell something was wrong so I insisted on staying with him. He didn’t want me to, but I sort of forced it. He was obviously triggered from the case, super out of sorts, so I told him to get comfortable and I would stay overnight,” Derek took a deep breath, only continuing when Hotch softly prompted him. “I was going to use the restroom and he kind of seemed scared for me to go in there, he put his hand on the doorknob pretty possessively when I asked and got really frantic. He told me he was having sensory problems and needed to change his clothes and I just believed him and decided to wait. I was a tiny bit worried, obviously, but the sensory issues made sense so I just waited.” Derek had to stop again.

“ You’re doing great, Morgan. Deep breaths.” Hotch’s voice was soothing and encouraging, something very unusual to Spencer.

“Yeah. Um. So he was there for a while and I was starting to worry. When I asked if he was okay, he said yes but sounded weird, off. But he didn’t seem high when he came out. I left it alone and got myself ready to sleep. I was going to sleep on the couch, but he offered to let me sleep in the bed with him, so I did, and-” Derek paused briefly and flushed when he realized what he had just admitted, “and he seemed like he was in pain. We were both tired so I decided it was better to sleep and talk in the morning. Hotch, I should’ve known… fuck, I should’ve picked up on the signs.” Derek’s free hand rubbed his forehead.

“ Morgan, stay on track. Stay with me.”

“Sorry. Sorry, this is just really hard. Anyways, the kid woke up a few hours later after a nightmare. It was a bad one. I thought I’d seen the worst of what nightmares were, but this beat out anything else I’ve seen. It took a few minutes for me to pull him out of it. After I did, he got embarrassed and had a severe panic attack that lasted for probably a half hour.” Derek’s voice began to shake as he approached the dreaded confession. Spencer felt his breath threatening to stop, but he didn’t want to alert Derek that he was awake. “I helped ground him by holding his hands. When I did, I noticed-” Derek choked back a sob, “noticed a bandage on his arm.”

“Shit.” 

“He had cut himself, Hotch. Really bad. He managed to do that when I was only a room away,” Derek ran his fingers through Spencer’s hair at a faster pace, upset that he was having to divulge this sensitive information, “The worst part is that he did it again. Maybe two hours ago, I think?” There was a sudden intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Morgan, this is really important. I need an honest answer. Do you think he’s suicidal?”

“No, I really don’t think so. He’s had ideation for a while now, it seems, but nothing concrete. I’m not worried about that right now, I’m more worried about leaving him alone. When I found him cutting himself a little while ago, he was completely dissociated. I’ve never seen him like that. He said he hadn’t cut that badly in ‘a long time’ and that it was only bad because he didn’t know what was happening, but I can’t in good conscience leave him alone after that. Who knows if he’ll slip into another episode and do something worse. I mean, those cuts were deep, Hotch. One mistake and he’d be dead. He didn’t even realize how deep he had gone; he could’ve killed himself during the episode and never would have realized it.” Derek was ranting now. Spencer felt horrible that he caused the pain that Derek was feeling. It sounded so much worse when spoken aloud.

“ I think you should both take the whole week. He needs that, and he needs you. Thank you for staying with him.” At the suggestion of a week off work, Spencer couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore. His head shot up and he yanked the phone out of Derek’s hand and Derek was initially stunned into immobility. 

“Hotch, I’m fine. Derek was overexaggerating. I don’t need a week off of work. I’m good.” Spencer spoke quickly, words tripping over one another. He couldn’t miss an entire week, it would kill him. Literally. 

“ Reid, hello. I’m sorry to break it to you, but that wasn’t an option. You are to stay home for the week. That is an order.” Hotch seemed surprised by the sudden change of speaker but adapted quickly and skillfully. 

“No, no, no, Hotch, I’m fine. I’m fine!” Spencer ignored Derek’s attempt to take the phone back, batting his hand away and scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

“ I don’t think you are. It’s okay if you aren’t, you know that, right?”

“No, I have to be perfect. I have to go to work. I have to use my brain to help. I need to be there, you all need me to be there. Please, Hotch, I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Reid. We can get along here without you for a week.”

“But I can’t do without work for a week! You don’t understand. I need work. I need it.”

“ You also need a break.”

“Breaks don’t help. They hurt.”

“What do you mean, Reid?”

“I mean what I said. Breaks only mess with me more. You do remember that I’m autistic, right? Routine is important to me.” Spencer felt Derek’s hand grab his own, squeezing softly in an attempt to calm him down. His whole body was vibrating from both the worry of being out of work and the horror of his boss knowing that he mutilates his own body.

“I do understand that. But you need time to heal, both physically and mentally. I can’t let you work until I’m confident in your ability to focus and maintain stability.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I get it, Hotch. I just don’t want to be alone with nothing but my thoughts.” Spencer’s voice trailed off, cracking when he spoke the last word. 

“ You won’t be. Morgan will be there.”

“I know, but it’s not the same as being surrounded by the team and working a case.”

“I’m sorry, Reid. I promise this is for your own good.”

“For my own good.” Spencer’s voice hollowed out. He felt his stomach drop as his mind repeated the words, over and over. He didn’t even realize he was speaking out loud until Derek wrapped his arms around him and Hotch spoke again.

“ Reid? What’s wrong?” 

“For my own good. This is for my own good. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time. For my own good.” Spencer was rambling on again, losing touch with reality. He felt Derek gently take the phone out of his hand and whisper to Hotch. About what, he wasn’t sure. All Spencer could hear were his own thoughts and words. His father’s words. 

“Pretty boy, come back to me. I’m right here.” Derek’s voice slipped into Spencer’s ears and bounced around in his brain. “You are not bad, you don’t need to change. This isn’t your fault.” They began to replace his father’s words, slowly but surely. 

“Not for my own good. It was bad. Not my fault.” 

“That’s right, Spencer. It’s not your fault. You didn’t deserve that.” Derek may not have known everything, but he knew enough to recognize that Spencer was having some sort of dissociative flashback. Spencer sniffled loudly and pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing harshly.

“No, not my fault. Not my fault,” Spencer was beginning to gain consciousness as he went on, “Thank you, Derek. Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you want to lay back down?” It wasn’t until then that Spencer regained the ability to feel his body. His limbs were weighed down with exhaustion, and even nodding in response to Derek felt like too much. 

Spencer all but collapsed back to his mattress, tugging Derek’s sleeve as a way to ask the man to join him. This time, Derek slid all the way down and allowed Spencer to lay his head on his chest again. Spencer wrapped his arm around Derek’s chest and flipped his body sideways to lay flush to Derek’s. He felt his friend stiffen at the full-body contact for a second before loosening up again and wrapping his arms around the younger man. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, wedged tightly in perfect juncture. 

“What did you say to Hotch when I zoned out?” Spencer asked in a hoarse voice.

“Just that you needed a minute and we would check back in later.” Derek shifted his body slightly sideways so his chin was resting on the top of Spencer’s head. The sides of Spencer’s lips twitched upward as Derek’s hand drifted up and rested on the back of his neck, fingers winding through his overgrown hair. 

“Oh. Okay. I don’t- I don’t know what to say to him. I always thought I could keep all of this a secret. Having to deal with my autism is enough of a burden and I never wanted to add to it.” Spencer found his hand moving to rest on Derek’s chest, fingers curled slightly. He felt safe with Derek’s strong, impenetrable frame next to him. 

“Pretty boy, I’m positive that Hotch does not feel burdened by you. If anything, he - and the whole team, for that matter - feels more burdened without you.” Derek responded.

“Then why can’t I just go back to work?” Spencer huffed, trying to change the subject. He didn’t need to hear another ‘you’re not a burden’ conversation. 

“You know why. With everything going on in that pretty little head of yours, it’s better for all of us if you stay here and rest.” Derek planted a soft peck on the tip-top of Spencer’s head after he finished speaking, but Spencer could barely notice it through his thoughts.

“Better for everyone if I stay here? Better if I’m not there? Not here ?” Spencer knew he was being unfair, but he couldn’t stop the impending thought spiral. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and buried further into Derek’s chest thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would suffocate the idea of his worthlessness. 

“Oh no, no, that’s not what I meant at all, Spencer. We need you. We need you here .” Derek stroked Spencer’s hair as he spoke softly into his ear. He didn’t have to explain what here meant; somehow, Derek just knew. “ I need you here.” There was a small crack in Derek’s voice.

“Sorry.” Spencer was gripping Derek’s shirt tightly, knuckles white from the tension. He was still shaking. No matter what his friend said, Spencer knew he wouldn’t change his mind. The world would be better off without him, he had known that for a very, very long time. It’s hard to destroy a perception built up during childhood.

“No need to apologize. It’s okay.” Derek gulped harshly at the end of his sentence, presumably holding back tears. Spencer felt like a horrible person. His friend was in pain - yet again - because he couldn’t control his emotions. The feeling of extreme anxiety was beginning to take over, spreading from his chest all the way to his fingers and toes. It wasn’t long before Spencer was pulling back out of Derek’s grip and curling in on himself in an attempt to stem the oncoming meltdown. 

“Don’t- please don’t touch me.” Spencer rasped. He needed to have his own space. As much as he loved being with Derek, he couldn’t ignore the suffocating feeling that came from being wrapped in someone else’s arms when overwhelmed. “Too- too much.” 

Spencer’s hands were at his head now, grasping tightly to locks of hair. He could hear Derek talking to him faintly, but the sensory stimuli around him was pounding him relentlessly, rendering him unable to focus on his friend. There was a slight recognition that Spencer was whining, but he didn’t have the energy to care to stop.

The lamp was on and the buzzing shrieked in his ears. His bare arms were brushing against his sweatpants and it made him squirm, an itch crawling on his skin. The wounds on his arms suddenly hurt dreadfully. The hole that naturally resided in his chest had opened wider and somehow become heavier and darker. His limbs weighed him down, making every movement cumbersome. And, possibly worst of all, his usually clever, sharp-witted brain lost control and began repeating a sequence of words: it’s better if I’m not here . 

Spencer whined and groaned and tugged at his hair while Derek murmured soothing words of encouragement. He wished he could respond, but his throat was blocked by some invisible door that only allowed sounds to come through, not words. The best thing he could do now was to wait it out. Knees tucked to his chest, Spencer let himself ride the choppy waves of the meltdown. 

When he made it to shore, Spencer kept his eyes tightly shut. He could feel his muscles beginning to relax and was beginning to hear past the sensory assaults he was experiencing. Spencer could feel Derek’s presence even though he wasn’t saying a word. He allowed his fingers to unwrap from his hair slowly before removing them altogether. Eyes still closed, he reached out towards Derek, groping around for his hand. Hand contact he could do, and he needed something strong and safe to ground him. Spencer’s body relaxed even more when Derek’s fingers intertwined with his. Derek rubbed circles on his hand while he began to whisper again. 

“You’re doing so well, pretty boy. So great. You’re safe, I’m here, I’ve got you. You are so strong, Spencer. I’m so proud of you, you’re doing so well. Just keep breathing, squeeze my hand if you need to.” Immediately after Derek offered, Spencer squeezed. He heard Derek chuckle quietly and felt him give a quick squeeze back. Spencer kept squeezing for a while before he dared to open his eyes.

Squinting, Spencer looked up at Derek, who was sitting next to him on the bed. He blinked harshly several times to clear the blur in his eyes. When Derek’s face cleared, Spencer smiled softly up at him. 

“Welcome back, pretty boy. How are you feeling?” Derek gave his hand another squeeze.

“Mmm.” Spencer let out a half-grunt, half-mumble, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Nonverbal?” Derek asked.

“Mhm.” Spencer nodded his head. He was surprised he was even managing to get noises through his throat. 

“Okay, that’s okay. Are you able to get to the couch? I’d like to make some food for us and I don’t want to leave you alone. I know you probably just want to sleep, but you need some sustenance.” Derek requested, seemingly nervous to see what Spencer’s answer would be. Spencer simply nodded his head and began stretching his stiff limbs. Derek sighed, grateful he wouldn’t have to force Spencer into anything. 

“Alright then, let’s do this.” Derek grinned and helped Spencer sit up, pulling on his hand. “You’ll feel better before you know it.”

Chapter Text

Derek was right; Spencer did feel somewhat better after eating. It was hard to force the food down after having such a difficult day, but he did his best. His throat still felt constricted and his depression made it hard to maintain an appetite. Spencer was tremendously grateful for Derek. There was no way he would have eaten without the offer of delicious spaghetti his friend cooked up.

"Th- thanks." Spencer managed a single word as he placed his empty bowl on the coffee table in front of him, earning a smile and nod from Derek. The two were planted on the couch in the living room. Derek had finished eating long before Spencer had, but he was gracious enough to wait on washing his dish so Spencer didn't feel rushed. Spencer watched as his friend collected the bowls and took them to the kitchen. He leaned back and closed his eyes, rocking back and forth slightly in an attempt to self-soothe.

Just as Derek finished putting the bowls away, a knock sounded from the door. Spencer shot up, eyes wide with fear for a split second. He hated how loud noises scared him, the way they instilled terror years later. He let out a shaky breath and shook his hands out while he watched Derek exit the kitchen and head to the door.

"Derek?" Spencer questioned, wondering if he knew who was at the door. Derek simply responded by shrugging his shoulders. After a quick peep through the hole in the door, Derek swung it open excitedly. Spencer flinched at the sudden movement.

"Hotch! Hey, man! What are you doing here?" When Derek spoke, Spencer felt his heart drop. The last thing he wanted was to face his boss in the state he was in. Before he could escape to his bedroom, Hotch was walking through the entry and into the living room. Derek followed behind him, unaware of Spencer's growing anxiety.

"Hi, Reid. How are you doing?" Hotch asked carefully, sitting down in an armchair across from him. The man's eyes drifted downwards. It was then that Spencer realized he was still wearing the short-sleeved shirt that Derek had given him earlier. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen and curled into himself, eyes searching for the closest blanket to him.

"Um. Okay." Spencer uttered hoarsely. Derek sat back down beside him and Spencer motioned to a blanket on the end of the couch closest to his friend. Derek understood immediately and tossed him the blanket. As soon as Spencer had it, he wrapped it around himself, disguising the plethora of scars and the bandages from earlier.

"Spencer is having a hard time speaking, he's mostly non-verbal right now. He's said a few words but that's it." Derek supplied, explaining the situation.

"I see. Well, I wanted to come over and check on you, Reid. To remind you that I am not only your boss but your friend as well. If there's anything I can do to help you, please let me know." Hotch's firm demeanor shifted slightly, a friendlier, less scary side peeking out from behind it. Spencer simply nodded his head, eyes averted out of shame and embarrassment. He couldn't even imagine what Hotch was thinking. An FBI agent who can't even control his urges to hurt himself? What a pitiful and shameful excuse of a person.

"Spencer, can I explain to him what's been happening?" Derek turned to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Spencer looked up at him and shook his head softly. If Hotch was going to hear anything, it was going to be from him.

"Hotch, I- I don't know what to say," Spencer took a deep breath and wrapped the blanket tighter around his body, the pressure helping to calm him, "Der- uh, Morgan already told you some things over the phone." He stumbled over his words, feeling like calling Derek by his first name in front of their boss was wrong somehow.

"I'm not asking you to give me a whole life story - unless you feel like you want to, in which case I will listen with no judgment - I simply want to understand what was going on within you to cause these events to transpire." Hotch spoke smoothly and evenly, a stark contrast to Spencer's gravelly and choppy speech.

"I- I don't mind explaining where it started. As in, how it even came to be in the beginning. I just don't know how long my voice will last. I really don't even know how I'm speaking so much now, but I'm not going to question it." Spencer sighed, shivering from the sheer amount of anxiety coursing through his veins.

"Do you want me to get something you can fidget with or something to help sensory-wise?" Derek asked, taking notice of Spencer's shaking. Spencer bit his lip. He wasn't sure if he should allow himself to show any sort of weakness in front of Hotch. After some consideration, Spencer decided that it probably would be fine; his boss was about to hear some of his backstory, which would be exposing enough. No point in hiding now.

"Could you maybe get my weighted blanket from the foot of my bed? And, um," Spencer hesitated before adding, "I have a tangle in my bedside drawer on the right side. That helps." He flushed at the thought of requesting anything like these items from someone. They had always been seen as childish and labeled him as a 'freak'. Spencer was still trying to retrain his brain to recognize his sensory needs as normal and acceptable.

"Sure thing, pretty boy." Derek squeezed his shoulder once before leaving to gather Spencer's requested supplies. Spencer sat cross-legged on the couch silently under Hotch's intense gaze. He felt like the man was dissecting him piece by piece until nothing but the bare bones of his disturbed psyche were left.

"Um. I'm going to wait for De- Morgan. He deserves to hear this, too." Spencer said.

"That's fine. You can call him Derek if you want to, I know you two are close outside of work." Hotch offered. Spencer felt his face warming up as he nodded slowly.

"Okay." Spencer mumbled, gaze stuck to the floor. He couldn't help but wonder if there was an insinuation in Hotch's words.

"Alright Spencer, I've got everything!" Derek walked back into the room carrying what looked to be much more than what Spencer requested. Spencer knit his brows together in confusion and tipped his head slightly to the right, a silent question of the scene before him.

"Here's the weighted blanket," Derek spoke as he draped it over Spencer, "and here are some fidgets. I know you said the tangle but I figured I'd bring several things just in case you want something else at some point." He dumped the armful of items onto the coffee table in front of them and plucked the tangle out of the pile, handing it over to Spencer.

"Thank you. Really." Spencer was smiling at Derek's actions. Not only had he been willing to collect something for him, but he went above and beyond. Spencer wasn't used to people going above and beyond for him. He could definitely get used to it now, though.

"No problem. Are you sure you want to do this?" Derek inquired.

"Yes," Spencer spoke with hardened resolve, "I'm going to just sit here and talk until my voice gives out. I can only give you both a small amount of information, I don't think I can handle talking about all of it." Spencer began to twist the tangle in his hands nervously. "I didn't, um, have an easy childhood, per se." His voice came out shaky and breathy, anxiety obvious behind the tone.

"You're doing great, Spencer." Derek murmured, scooting closer. He reached out and laid a hand on Spencer's leg. Spencer shivered again, except this time, it wasn't from anxiety. If his arms weren't hidden under the blanket and his hands busy with the tangle, he would reach out and grab it. Spencer ignored the questioning glance Hotch gave Derek before continuing.

"You both already know about my mom. That isn't anything new. But I never told you guys about my dad. He was- he was worse." Spencer stopped fidgeting with the tangle and opted to grab Derek's hand for support. "My dad, he was abusive. Arguably more so than my mother, and for other reasons and, um, in other ways. My mom was more neglectful while my dad opted for more physical options." He shivered and squeezed Derek's hand tight.

"Reid, you don't have to-" Hotch began.

"No, no, I want to. Need to." Spencer cut him off. Hotch nodded, a silent allowance to continue. "It started when I was six," he heard Derek inhale sharply as he spoke, "he expected me to do things that I couldn't, things that my mom wasn't doing because of her illness. If he came home and there was anything of mine left out, it was a shove or two. Leaving wrappers or dishes out was usually a good slap. Sometimes he was just angry for no reason. Those were- those were the worst times. All I really remember is how much it hurt." Spencer let out a shaky breath and curled his legs up to his chest, abandoning the crisscrossed position he was in previously.

"Then, as I got older, things got- they got worse. At seven years old, he started to put me to bed. On the nights he was actually home, that is. But it wasn't just putting me to bed." Spencer was shaking all over. He had never confessed this to anyone before, and it terrified him. "He insisted on helping me change even though I could on my own. It started with just slight touches, just brushings." Spencer couldn't even say it, couldn't put into words what his father had done even now.

"It built up from there to more obvious touching. He would, um, lay down with me," Spencer spoke monotonously, ignoring the knot forming in his throat, "and that's when it hit the peak. He never went all the way or anything. It was just hands. But it- it was difficult." He pulled his hand out of Derek's and wrung his fingers together. The physical contact felt like too much for Spencer to handle at the moment.

"I was barely nine the first time I cut myself," Spencer paused, the only noise in the room being his colleague's heavy breathing, before continuing, "and then I couldn't stop. It made me feel better. I know it doesn't make sense, but it did. I just," he paused again, his words failing him, "I don't think I can keep going. I'm sorry." Spencer tucked his head between his chest and knees, effectively hiding from the outside world. Everything had become too much.

"Hey, you did great, pretty boy. No need to apologize." Derek murmured. Spencer was thankful that his friend didn't make a move to touch him because it probably would've sent him over the edge. He was already trying his best not to panic.

"Spencer, thank you for telling us. I am very proud of your strength." Hotch stated. At the use of his first name, Spencer finally looked up at his boss. There was a new softness in his eyes that was nonexistent in their usual discussions. Instead of calming him down, the change from normal sent a strong wave of anxiety through him. If what he said was enough to crack Hotch's intense exterior, it must be pretty bad. That's when the hyperventilation started.

Spencer wasn't even fully sure what was happening around him. All he knew was that everything felt like too much and like he had just made a huge mistake. He should've known better than to be honest. Honesty leads to either pity or discomfort, both things Spencer absolutely did not want. Thoughts of regret spun around and around and around, and they wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop-

"Spencer. Come back to me. I'm right here, you're okay. I've got you, pretty boy." Derek's voice interrupted his spiraling, words slipping through his panic. Spencer was vaguely aware that he was tugging at his hair and muttering under his breath, but he wasn't conscious enough to stop.

"Hey, hey, you've got to stop that, Spencer. I'm sorry, I'm going to have to touch you." Derek spoke softly. A few seconds after his statement, Spencer felt his friend's hands wrapping around his own. The sudden touch triggered a fight response inside of him. Spencer yelped and batted the hands away, forgetting that they belonged to a trusted companion and not a foe. Any sense of reality that Spencer had regained slipped away again.

"Stop, stop, no. I'm sorry, please, please. No," Spencer's voice came out in small gasps, "I won't do it again, I'm sorry! Please!" He felt his arms being scratched and noted that it was his own hands doing the damage. There was no physical contact, no person trying to rip his hands away, so this only lasted for a minute before Spencer switched to gripping the blanket around him tightly and pulling it over his head to conceal him fully. He was aware of whispers around him and deduced that Derek and Hotch must be talking about him. Spencer whined at the thought.

"Pretty boy, you're okay. It's okay." Derek's steady voice helped pull him closer to earth. "Can I touch you?" Spencer hesitated at the question. Touch was hard, but the panic he was experiencing was almost unbearable. Maybe having Derek close wouldn't be such a bad thing. He lowered the blanket to sit around his shoulders again. Spencer then nodded his head timidly, eyes still squeezed shut and head still down.

"Okay, I'm going to wrap my arm around you now." Spencer was appreciative of this forewarning as it gave him a way to mentally prepare. As soon as he felt Derek's arm slip around his shoulders, he broke. Spencer turned swiftly and curled up to Derek, pressing his face into his friend's chest. His hands moved from grasping the blanket around him to grasping Derek's shirt. Hot and heavy tears slipped from his eyes and he allowed sobs to wrack his body. As he cried, Derek stroked his back and enclosed him in a snug embrace.

"Have you ever seen him like this before?" Hotch asked quietly.

"Only once. I have the feeling that he's been holding this in for a long time, Hotch." Derek sighed as he reached up to run his fingers through Spencer's hair, knowing that it helped to calm him.

"It's not surprising. He's been through a lot, much more than any person ever should. He is one resilient kid." There was a rustling noise as Hotch shifted in his chair, tossing one knee over the other. Spencer was doing his best to calm down and stifle the embarrassing sobs escaping his mouth. The fact that he was breaking down like this in front of his boss made him physically ill.

Derek continued stroking Spencer's hair as his sobs sputtered out. It wasn't very long - only five minutes or so - before Spencer stopped crying all together. He pulled back out of Derek's embrace and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes firmly. When Spencer reemerged, his eyes were glossed over. Everything in the room was blurred and his head was heavy and felt full of cotton. Unable to do anything else, Spencer sat and stared at a fixed point behind Hotch; his worn copy of Wuthering Heights sitting perched on the bookshelf.

"Spencer?" Someone was trying to reach him, but who was talking was a mystery to him. The voices around him were muffled as if they were all submerged in a deep, dark ocean. It was pulling him down into the depths, preventing his body from moving. Spencer was stuck in the choppy waters of his own mind.

"Morgan, I think he may be dissociated. Do you know how to best help him when he gets like this?" A muted voice spoke, presumably Hotch. Spencer vaguely knew the answer; no. He never let anyone see him when he dissociated.

"No, the only time I've seen him like this was, well, when I found him in the bathroom earlier." Derek sounded concerned. "We can't let him out of our sight." Spencer laughed silently in his head at his friend's concerns. He was far too tired to bother trying to hurt himself.

"Do you think he would be okay if we brought him to his bedroom?"

"I can try. I don't even know how aware he is right now," Derek's voice slipped through into Spencer's consciousness, "Spencer, if you can hear and understand me, can you give me a thumbs-up?"

Spencer hesitated. He knew it would take an immense amount of effort to communicate, even if it was only through gestures. However, he was conscious enough to know that he couldn't sit there without doing anything. Without moving his gaze, Spencer slowly raised his thumb. He frowned at the extremity of the difficulty it was to just move his thumb.

"Great, wonderful. Are you okay with me and Hotch helping you back to your bed?" Derek asked.

Spencer gave a thumbs-up motion. Everything was moving too slow and too fast, and with no memory of being moved, Spencer came to realize that he was curled up in his bed, comforter tucked under his chin just how he liked it. He had absolutely no idea how much time had elapsed when he came to. All he knew was that he was in his bed and his coworkers - friends - were standing near the doorway in conversation.

"Hotch, I don't know what to do. I went through similar things as a kid, but not from my own father. That changes the entire dynamic. I feel like I should know what to do, given my experience with the topic and the job we have, but I'm lost here." Derek whispered, assuming that Spencer was either asleep or still completely out of it.

"Well, we could handle this in several different ways. Normally, I would tell you to get him admitted to a psychiatric ward, but that would be bad for him for a multitude of reasons; the trauma from institutionalizing his mother and the fact that it could put his job on the line, to name a few." Spencer felt his heart stop when Hotch mentioned a stay at the hospital. It was the last thing he wanted.

"Another option is to make him take some time off of work and get a therapist, maybe get some medication. He would definitely need to stay with someone during that time so he wouldn't be too much of a risk to himself," Hotch continued, "And the last option I can think of is to just move forward as though nothing happened. Let him come back to work as long as he agrees to see someone for treatment. Maybe have him stay with someone or someone stay with him. None of the options we have are that great." Hotch sighed.

"I need to work. I don't need a- a babysitter." Spencer croaked, slowly sitting up. The two men in the doorway started at the unexpected intrusion. "How long was I out for?" He rubbed his bleary eyes.

"Around an hour," Hotch said as he checked his watch. "And yes, you do need someone to watch you. You don't need me to tell you that you are an immediate danger to yourself and absolutely shouldn't be allowed alone."

"No, no, it's different when it's me. I can take care of myself. I'm a genius, remember? I'm fine Hotch, I'll be fine. I can be left alone. Even if, um, if something were to happen, I know how to be safe. Just please don't intrude on me. All I want is to come back to work and never talk about this again." Spencer pleaded, aware that he was beginning to sound desperate.

"Spencer, let me make this clear. If you want to come back to work, you have to have someone stay with you there at all times and come home with you, or you go home with them. No exceptions." Hotch spoke sternly, more of a boss than a friend now. "And, quite frankly, I don't care if you know how to be safe or not. Knowing how to not bleed out doesn't stop you from doing irreversible damage to yourself. From what Morgan described, you weren't even aware of your surroundings when in the process of cutting yourself. It's dangerous. Any type of self-injury never leads anywhere good; it only progresses as you keep doing it for longer. From what I can see, you've gone from smaller cuts to deeper ones over the years. I can't risk leaving you alone and something causing a slip-up." Hotch motioned towards Spencer.

"I, uh," Spencer fumbled with his words, self-consciously hiding his arms back under the comforter in front of him as he cursed himself for forgetting to keep them hidden, "I don't know what to say. I can't lose work, if I do, I lose myself. Hotch, you have to understand that this job and team is the only thing keeping me alive." He bit his lip. Hopefully, he hadn't said something too incriminating; the last thing he wanted was to be brought to a hospital and put on suicide watch.

"Okay. Alright, you can come back to work. But if this happens again, you will take sick days to recuperate and possibly even do an intensive outpatient program. I'd make sure to keep it out of the records. Someone will need to stay with you, or vice versa." Hotch responded.

"I'll stay with him if he's okay with that." Derek popped into the conversation. "Is that something you'd be willing to do, pretty boy?"

"Yeah, whatever." Spencer grumbled. It was the last thing he wanted, but there was no way he would stay out of work if he had the chance to go back.

"Perfect! Hotch, are you able to stay here while I go home and get some of my things?" Derek inquired. Spencer felt his stomach drop. He wasn't sure if he could handle being alone with Hotch after everything that had just happened.

"I can do that. I need to be home in two hours, so please be back here by 4:30." Hotch replied. At this, Spencer looked at the clock, shocked. The day had flown by without him even realizing it.

"Alright then. I'll be back soon," Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, spinning them on his pointer finger, "You good, Spencer?"

"Yeah. Good. See you later, Derek." Spencer watched as Derek smiled at the use of the first name. He really needed to think of a nickname to use, something to use like Derek used 'pretty boy' for him. Spencer shifted slightly in bed as Derek exited the room.

"Give me a minute, Reid, I'll be right back. Stay there." Hotch pointed at the bed sternly. Spencer gulped, not looking forward to the next few hours.

"Yeah, okay." Spencer spoke gruffly, slightly annoyed at the feeling of being babied. Hotch followed Derek out of the room and Spencer lowered his head into his hands. The situation was only just beginning to truly hit him.

His whole world was about to change, and he wasn't sure if that was something he wanted.

Chapter Text

Spencer was holding his breath when Hotch re-entered the bedroom. He was scared; Hotch could be awfully hard to communicate with. He kept his arms hidden underneath the sheets. Spencer knew that his boss had already seen the scars earlier, but he didn't necessarily want them on full display.

"Reid, you can breathe," Hotch spoke, a slight smile quivering on his lips. "I'm not that scary, am I?" Spencer just shrugged at the question. He knew he was capable of verbal discussion, but he didn't feel like engaging in it.

"Do you want to sleep? You seem tired." Hotch proposed. Spencer hadn't realized how tired he was until now. He nodded heavily and allowed himself to lean backward and sink into his pillows. "I'm going to sit on the floor over here and catch up on some paperwork if that's okay with you." The man motioned to the foot of the bed.

"You can- you can use the desk," Spencer muttered hoarsely. Truthfully, the idea of someone using anything of his gave him anxiety, but he already felt horrible about the position he was putting them both in. The least he could do was accommodate them.

"Alright, sounds good. Let me know if you need anything." Spencer watched Hotch through hooded eyes as he pulled a stack of papers from his bag and plopped them on the desk across the room. Before Hotch could turn around and see him observing the man, Spencer shut his eyes. He was grateful for the offer of sleep as it meant he wouldn't have to discuss anything that happened in the past twenty-four hours.

~~~~

The next thing Spencer knew, he was awoken by rough hands grasping his own and a loud voice booming in his ears. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and squinting his eyes. He pulled his hands back and slapped them over his ears in an attempt to block out the head-splitting scream he was hearing. It took Spencer a minute to realize that the scream was his own. After realizing that, he started to come to.

"Hotch?" Spencer sniffled, eyes still squeezed shut and hands shakily relocating from ears to face, wiping tears from his cheeks.

"I'm right here, Spencer," Hotch responded. The man was kneeling beside the bed in front of him. Spencer stilled, surprised by the use of his first name. "Can I touch you?"

"Okay." Spencer accepted without contemplating the possible consequences. When Hotch reached out and wrapped a hand around his shoulder, he lost touch with reality.

~~~~

"No, please, I don't want it. Please!" Spencer begs, sobbing as Tobias Hankel raises a needle to his arm.

"It'll help, I promise." The man tries to reassure him, but Spencer refuses to stop pleading against it.

"No, no, no. Please." Spencer winces at the sting from the injection before his body goes slack. The drug takes effect almost immediately, sending him into a state of nothingness.

He jerks awake hours later and the man before him has changed. He's angry, ruthless, and Spencer feels fear like never before. Maybe being high isn't so bad, he thinks.

"Choose who dies." It takes Spencer a moment to process what this means as he follows Hankel's pointer finger aimed at several screens in the barn with them.

"No, I won't choose. Please don't make me choose." Spencer feels bile rising in the back of his throat as he thinks about what he is being told to do.

"You pick one, or I kill them all. Hurry up." The ropes tying him seemed to get tighter as Spencer's heart rate increases. How is he supposed to choose someone to die?

"You want me to kill them all?" Hankel growls, snapping Spencer out of his thoughts.

"No! No, no, don't do that. Just- That one! I pick that one!" Spencer chokes on the sobs that wrack his body. He may as well pull the trigger himself, he thinks. Does this make him a murderer now? Spencer realizes with a jolt that he wants the drug again. That he needs it. He can't be conscious and able to feel what he's feeling; it's all too much.

It's too much, and Spencer needs a release.

~~~~

"Spencer! Come back, kid." Hotch's voice pierced through the flashback, shattering the images playing on the back of Spencer's eyelids. His eyes shot open and he immediately pulled into himself, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around them.

"That's good, you're doing good. You're safe. You're here in your bedroom, not in Georgia. I promise." Hotch's soothing voice had begun to quiet Spencer's whimpering as it pulled him back to reality.

"I'm- I'm so sorry you had to- to see that." Spencer breathed, voice muffled by the hand over his mouth. He had no idea what he may have said during his outburst.

"No, don't apologize. It's alright." Hotch replied with a soft, sad smile. It was full of pity and Spencer hated it. As he watched Hotch, he realized that two very familiar feelings were creeping in; the craving for Dilaudid and the urge to harm himself. Spencer started scratching his forearms subconsciously as the wheels in his brain began to try to find a way to a blade and some privacy.

"Spencer, hey," Hotch cautiously reached out and pulled his hand away from his arm, "talk to me, kid."

"Um. Just a bad dream. Not a big deal." Spencer uttered. He had to stay as calm as possible if he wanted to pass as okay enough to be alone.

"I think it was a big deal. You can talk to me, you know?" Hotch murmured, moving from his kneeling position on the floor to sitting on the side of the bed next to Spencer. Hotch's countenance caught Spencer off guard. He wasn't used to seeing his boss so calm and caring. It was almost enough to break him - almost, but not enough.

"No, no, I'm- I'm fine. Really, I am," Spencer spoke softly, "I think I'm just going to get up and read."

"Okay, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." Hotch was watching him with a glint of suspicion behind his eyes but didn't say anything.

"Yeah. Will do." Spencer smiled awkwardly and gave the man a thumbs-up. Both of them stood up from the bed, Hotch returning to the desk and Spencer heading to his closet. He pulled out a dark hoodie and threw it over his head, careful not to irritate his arm any more than necessary. Spencer then grabbed his go-bag from its place on the floor and reached inside. With a quick glance to confirm that Hotch wasn't watching him, Spencer slid out a blade hidden in one of the inside pockets of the bag and dropped it in the pages of the book stashed in the bottom. Grabbing the book, Spencer tossed the bag down and turned to Hotch.

"Hotch, I'm going to use the bathroom. I've got to, you know-" Spencer flushed slightly, unreasonably embarrassed at the idea of sharing his bowel habits with his boss, ruse or not. He gripped the book in one hand and motioned to the hall bathroom with the other.

"Alright. Derek told me he looked through everything, so you can keep the door closed." Hotch had turned slightly to look at him, eyes surveying any possible danger that he could have on him.

"Wait, come here." Just as Spencer turned to leave, Hotch's gruff voice sounded through the room again. He stopped and walked over to the man stiffly. When he got there, Spencer watched as Hotch reached out and searched all of his pockets. The breach of personal space was uncomfortable and Spencer found himself beginning to grow anxious.

"Okay, you can go now. Sorry about that." Hotch apologized. Spencer nodded and turned to leave, quickly putting as much distance between him and Hotch as possible. Once in the bathroom, Spencer took a deep breath. The ability to shut a door and have his own personal and private space was a wonderful feeling.

Spencer set the book on the counter in front of him, carefully flipping through the pages to find the blade hidden between them. He smiled slightly when he found it. Any concern of being caught slipped away. Pushing the sleeve of his hoodie up, Spencer moved to lay the blade on the skin just below his previous bandage. He would definitely have to change it on his own later instead of Derek doing it for him. Logically, he should switch to his thighs, but there was something more satisfying in cutting an arm than a leg.

As if it were nothing, Spencer swiftly dragged the blade across his skin. A sigh of relief escaped him while he continued to make quick slashes around the first one. He made quick work - he didn't want to tip off Hotch - and wiped away the blood with toilet paper. The cuts weren't very deep this time, so he wasn't worried about bleeding through any bandages. At that thought, Spencer bent down to open the cabinet and reach for the first aid kit.

Spencer's hand never met with the kit. He bent down further to peek inside, eyes widening when he found it void of what he needed. He stumbled backward slightly in surprise. When his back hit the wall, Spencer realized where it was; in the other bathroom.

"Spencer? Are you okay in there?" Hotch called. Spencer cursed under his breath, tossing the blade under the sink and standing up so quickly that his head spun. He hoped Derek wouldn't find it before he could relocate it.

"Yeah, I'm good." Spencer prayed his voice wasn't shaking like his hands were. He heard footsteps approaching and jumped into action, throwing the bloody pieces of toilet paper in the toilet and flushing. He pulled his hoodie sleeve down right as the footsteps reached the door. Spencer was glad to be wearing a dark hoodie as it would probably hide any blood still escaping the wounds.

The sounds of movement from outside the door had disappeared. Spencer hastily washed his hands and grabbed his book off of the countertop, giving the room one last look-over before opening the door. Hotch was leaning against the wall across from the door waiting for him. Spencer felt his brows pull down in frustration.

"I don't need a babysitter at all times. I can use the bathroom on my own." Spencer snapped, brushing by the man and into his bedroom. Hotch followed a few feet behind him.

"I'm not here to babysit you. I'm sticking close because you are hurting and I am worried about you taking that out on your body." Hotch spoke firmly. He crossed his arms as he sat on the chair by the desk, kicking one knee over the other and leaning back. The power stance made Spencer slightly uncomfortable.

"Yeah, well, you don't have to worry about that. Derek already took my, uh, things away." Spencer huffed, tossing his book on the bed and plopping down beside it. He sat facing Hotch. For a moment, the two simply watched each other, silence filling the air around them.

"You and I both know that you will find ways to hurt yourself if you want to." Hotch frowned and watched him closely.

"Well, you may be correct, but that still doesn't mean you need to worry about me or hold my hand all day," Spencer replied heatedly, "I've been doing it for a long time and have gotten along just fine without you."

"I wouldn't call hurting yourself 'getting along just fine', Spencer." Hotch retorted.

"I'm alive, am I not, Aaron?" Spencer spat out the name as if it was bitter on his tongue.

"Alive and getting along well are two different things. I'd say that being alive is the bare minimum here. What really needs to happen is for you to accept help and get out of that head of yours." Hotch leaned forward in his chair as he spoke.

"You know what would get me out of my head?" Spencer paused and took a deep breath before snapping, "Killing myself, that's what."

"Spencer..." Hotch couldn't get more than his name out before being cut off.

"No, don't Spencer me. You have no idea the kind of shit that I've been through. You don't - you can't - understand why cutting myself works, but it does. It does! So, can you please just leave me the fuck alone and let me handle myself how I always have?" Spencer saw Hotch's generally stoic expression shift slightly like a curtain swaying in the wind, revealing sadness and brewing anger.

"I can't do that. You know I can't."

"Yes, you can. It's really not that hard. If you care about me, you need to leave me be."

"I refuse to let you continue destroying yourself, and I refuse because I do care about you." Hotch emphasized, continuing to lean forward in his chair and stare directly at Spencer.

"Hotch. Please. I am begging you. I need this. I can't keep going without it." Spencer implored. He couldn't believe he was asking his boss to give him permission to cut himself, but there he was.

"I'm not budging on this."

Spencer wanted to scream at Hotch, wail at the idea of living life without his best coping mechanism. He wanted to divulge all of the horrific details from the deepest and darkest depths of his mind, lay them out so his boss could see why it was necessary for him to be able to hurt himself. But he didn't. Instead, Spencer opted to let out a short grunt of frustration and move to curl up in a ball under his blankets, head hidden from Hotch's line of sight.

"I'm really sorry, Spencer." Hotch said, compassion evident in his tone. "You don't deserve any of this, any of the things that have happened to you."

"That doesn't change the fact that they did." Spencer grumbled, voice muffled by the blanket around him. He hated it when people pitied him. It wasn't like anyone could change what had happened, so why bother with shallow apologies?

"No, it doesn't. But now you know that there are people here to help you through it." Hotch sighed heavily.

"Yeah, I guess," Spencer mumbled as a wave of exhaustion swept over him. "I'm going to try to sleep again."

"Alright. If you need anything, let me know." Hotch replied.

Spencer rolled over and curled into himself even tighter, silently begging for just an ounce of good rest. The last thing he thought about before sleep pulled him under was how much he wished Derek was there to hold him and keep him safe while he drifted off.

~~~~

Spencer's eyes fluttered open at the sound of voices in his living room. He was still hiding under the covers, so he slowly crawled out from under them. He used his fists to rub at his eyes as he awoke fully. It was at that moment Spencer remembered what he had done in the bathroom before going to sleep. His sweatshirt was sticky with blood that coated his arm. He peeked under the covers and was met by something he knew immediately would screw him over; a bloodstain on the sheets. Instead of panicking, Spencer tried to focus on the voices in his apartment.

"Has he been asleep this whole time?" Derek's hushed voice asked.

"No. He was asleep for a while but woke up from a nightmare and refused to talk about it. He just told me that everything was fine. After that, he said he was going to read, but ended up going back to sleep. There was a slight breakdown in which he tried to convince me to back off and let him hurt himself. He's sleeping as of now." Hotch replied.

"Just making sure, you didn't let him alone after the nightmare, did you?"

"He went to the bathroom for a little while, but I checked him for sharp objects beforehand and he didn't have anything on him."

"Hotch! The kid's a genius, there are a million ways he could have gotten something sharp in there!" Derek sounded exasperated and Spencer bit his lip, frowning at the indication.

"Shit." Hotch cursed, almost too low for Spencer to hear.

"What? Hotch, what are you thinking?"

"He brought a book with him when he went to the bathroom." The concern and regret in his voice was strong.

"Did you check this book?" Derek was beginning to sound angry.

"No, I didn't even think to." Hotch admitted. Spencer's eyes widened; he had never heard such a strong amount of shame in Hotch's tone.

"Damnit Hotch, how could you miss that?" Derek snapped. "Go find that book and search it. I'm going to comb the bathroom again." Spencer stiffened at the statement. That was his last blade, and if they found it, he was screwed.

"I'm really sorry Morgan, I should've checked him fully," Hotch sighed, "I've been so stuck in worry that I'm missing things right in front of me."

"I get it, Hotch. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped. The kid may not have brought anything in with him anyway. I'm very stressed right now." Derek apologized, stricken with concern.

"It's fine, Morgan. You go check the bathroom, I'll check the book." When Hotch finished speaking, Spencer jumped into action. He scurried out of the room and to the bathroom, shutting the door before anyone could comprehend what was happening. There was a flurry of movement from both in and out of the bathroom.

"Spencer? Spencer! Open the door right now." Hotch demanded. Spencer was too busy collecting his blade to bother listening.

"Please, Spencer, come on out. Everything is going to be fine. Just come out so we can talk." Spencer laughed at Derek's attempt at negotiation. He was too smart to fall for it.

"No way in hell. I know exactly what you're doing. Nothing is going to be fine when I come out. Nothing." Spencer hissed, gritting his teeth in frustration. He was still thinking of places he could hide the blade, but given the training they all had, Spencer knew they would find it. That only meant one thing; he had to keep it on him.

"Spencer. Listen to me very carefully," Hotch spoke commandingly, "You come out of that bathroom right now or you will not be coming to work this entire week." Spencer cursed under his breath. He only had one option. There was no way he was missing work. Before thinking through what he was doing, Spencer jumped and flung the door open, eyes wide and fists clenched, one holding the blade. He could feel it slicing his palm, feel the hot liquid escaping his skin, but he felt no pain.

"I'm sorry Hotch, I'm sorry. I'm here, I'm fine! I can go to work. I'll do whatever you ask me to." Spencer pleaded. Derek watched the scene unfolding from the sidelines.

"Give me the blade in your hand." Hotch pointed to his fist and Spencer looked down, eyebrows raising when he saw the blood dripping through the cracks between his fingers and onto the floor below.

"I- I didn't do this on purpose, I promise. I didn't mean for this to happen!" Spencer's eyes were open wide and looking frantically from his hand to Hotch and back again.

"I know. I still need you to give that to me." Hotch demanded. Spencer felt his blood run cold.

"I- Hotch, I can't. I told you, I can't. This is my saving grace. I need it." Spencer breathed, cringing as he imagined how pathetic he must look.

"Spencer, please listen to him. It's going to be okay, giving up your blade won't end the world." Derek took a step forward, nervously interjecting himself into the conversation.

"Yes, it won't end the world. But it will make me want to end my own world." Spencer growled, anger boiling over the top. "What do you people not understand about me saying that I will probably fucking kill myself if I don't have this coping mechanism?" The two men watched his outburst in silent horror.

"Fuck! Fuck this, fuck you both. Just let me fucking be! I'm not dead, I'm still performing well at work, and I'm functioning as a person. Is that not enough? When will anything I do ever be enough?" Spencer choked on an angry sob, hands waving around for emphasis.

"I know it's hard to understand the logistics, okay? But what isn't hard is hearing me tell you that if you take it away from me, I will become actively suicidal. It's a fucking death sentence!" He could barely breathe around his rage. Hotch and Derek were looking at him in a way that Spencer couldn't quite decipher, but he knew he didn't like it. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom panting as he came down from the lividness he was feeling.

As Spencer began losing adrenaline, his body became looser, less stiff. Hotch and Derek met eyes and took the opportunity to jump forward and pry the blade from Spencer's fist. He cried and screamed and thrashed, eyes wild like an animal. He wasn't even fully aware of what he was doing besides the fact that he desperately needed his blade and would do anything for it.

"Spencer, Spencer, calm down. Deep breaths." Derek and Hotch were both trying to de-escalate the situation, but Spencer continued to fight. Eventually, Derek had to wrap his arms around Spencer and hold him tight while Hotch took the blade to dispose of it. Derek held Spencer through the whole thing. No matter how hard he fought to escape, the man didn't let go of him.

And when he finally stopped fighting, when he broke, Derek stayed there to hold him steady in the wreckage. 

Chapter Text

By the time the fighting was over, Spencer was humiliated, Derek was bruised and scratched, and Hotch’s eyes were glossy with moisture. Spencer had all but collapsed into Derek. He was too tired to bother screaming anymore, too tired to even glare at the men around him. He just sat - collapsed and weak - in Derek’s arms. Spencer couldn’t believe that he had come completely undone in front of them. He couldn’t help it, but it was awful nonetheless. 

Somehow, this experience was worse than everything else. More than the breakdown he had with Derek, the one he had with Hotch, being caught in the act of self-harm, and all of the times he had been caught with his scars out. Spencer had lost complete control. The only reason he had a general idea of what had happened was from the physical marks Derek had, his exhaustion, and - worst of all - Hotch being near tears. 

Spencer was feeling his emotions so strongly that he felt like he was being ripped in half. That was when he felt himself slipping. His vision unfocused as he stared at the floor below him. 

“Morgan, he’s gone. I can see it in his eyes.” Hotch took a deep breath in, the air catching in his throat. 

“Dissociated?” Derek questioned.

“Yes. Either that or a shutdown. Maybe even both.” 

“Oh. Should I bring him to the couch? He’s been in bed most of the day, so the change of scenery may be nice.” Derek proposed, earning a small grunt of approval from Hotch.

Spencer didn’t move at all as Derek lifted him and carried him to the couch slowly. He was too out of sorts to feel embarrassed about being carried like a baby. Derek carefully set him down on the couch and he tilted to the left and leaned on the armrest. Spencer’s eyes remained fixed on a spot in front of him, every part of his body stuck in a fetal position. 

“What do we do, Hotch?” Derek sighed, moving to sit beside Spencer. Hotch took a seat in the chair he had sat in upon his original arrival. 

“We help him.” Hotch leaned forward slightly as he spoke, clasping his hands together, knuckles white from tension. “It won’t be easy, but we have to get him away from engaging in self-harm, break the habit. We just need to be persistent and present.”

“Hotch, I don’t know,” Derek’s voice cracked, “I don’t know how to handle seeing him like this. He’s hurting so badly and I feel like there’s nothing I can do about it. I mean, he almost killed himself while I was in the other room, Hotch! I don’t think I could handle finding him- finding him…” Derek’s voice trailed off as he brought his shaky hands up to rub at his temple. 

“I know, I know. It’s going to be harder than anything we’ve ever done. And that’s saying a lot, considering the things we do at work every day.” Hotch sighed again and ran a hand over his face. “This will require almost constant supervision. We have to treat him like he would be if we brought him to a psychiatric facility. He’s going to hate it and will probably fight us on it, but this alternative is better than having him hospitalized.”

“I can stay with him. I’ll be here, no questions asked,” Derek assured. “Should we try to get help from outside resources? It’s possible someone on the team might have prior experience. Maybe JJ?” Spencer twitched slightly, face scrunching at the suggestion of someone else being involved. Somehow, he managed to feel self-conscious even while his brain wasn’t entirely working. 

“I’m not sure if that is a good idea. For now, let’s just move forward with supervision. We should probably get him a therapist as well, starting out with visits twice a week.” Hotch responded.

“If you can take care of finding the therapist, I can focus on researching prevention methods for self-injury so I can do my best to help him.” Derek suggested, hands running up and down his thighs.

“Sounds like a plan. I know it may sound crazy, but bring him in tomorrow. I’ll make sure he doesn’t have too much work and that it isn’t very taxing. He’s right; breaking the routine would only worsen things.” Spencer felt his body relax slightly at the statement.

“Alright. I’ll make sure to stick next to him the whole time. He’s going to hate this.” Derek frowned.

“Yeah, I will.” Spencer spoke, stretching his legs out slowly and repositioning to a more comfortable stance on the couch. The two men with him seemed surprised at his consciousness but recovered quickly.

“Welcome back, Spencer. How are you feeling?” Hotch asked. Spencer groaned internally; what kind of answer was he expecting? Wasn’t it obvious at this point?

“Fantastic.” Spencer grumbled, unable to keep the sarcastic irritation out of his reply. Derek’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly as Spencer continued. “I just had a major breakdown in front of my best friend and boss - not to mention the fact that I hurt Derek - because you took away my sharp objects. What do you think?” 

“I think,” Derek took a deep breath, “that you are having a hard time and need some help. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. You’re allowed to be vulnerable with us.”

“Allowed to, maybe. That doesn’t mean I’m not horrified at the idea of you both seeing me like this. I spent my entire life trying to hide, so this is all new to me. This whole experience is one of the most mortifying things I’ve ever endured.” Spencer grimaced and dug his fingernails into his palms.

“I wish you had come to me and told me it started again.” Hotch stated. “I could have helped you stop before it got to this point.”

“Wait, you already knew about the cutting?” Derek’s face scrunched in confusion.

“Yes. I helped keep it off of his record. I assumed it was over considering the only scars I ever saw were very old.” Hotch answered. The air around the men was oppressive, pushing in on them and squeezing their lungs. It was clear that each of them was experiencing unpleasant emotions. Spencer was mortified, Derek seemed upset, and Hotch was the human manifestation of worry. 

“Oh, and by the way, don’t even think about bringing anyone else into this. Especially not JJ. This is the last thing she should be involved with.” Spencer said firmly. 

“The only reason I suggested it was because of her sister. I thought she may have input on what to do to help.” Derek explained, eyebrows raising at Spencer’s scoff.

“Oh yeah? You think she knows what to do? You do remember that her sister died , right?” Spencer snapped. He was so exhausted and angry that his filter was obliterated.

“Spencer. Don’t say things like that.” Spencer cringed at Hotch’s firm reprimand. He was right, though; Spencer had no right to say such things.

“I’m sorry, Hotch. I shouldn’t have said that,” Spencer sighed and ran his hand over his face slowly, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m never like this, even alone.” 

“Well, I’d be surprised if you weren’t acting differently, pretty boy. You’ve been through a whole lot. The case mixed with the invasion of space and removal of a coping mechanism will do that.” Derek supplied.

“I know that. I know what happens in the mind when stress builds up. I just don’t know why it’s happening to me . I should be able to control my emotions. I have always had that skill.” Spencer shivered involuntarily and bit his lip. 

“Everyone has a breaking point. Even you, Spencer. I think you’ve finally reached it.” Hotch said.

“Mhm. Maybe.” Spencer replied, frowning slightly. He watched as Hotch’s eyebrows shot up when he checked the watch on his wrist.

“Sorry guys, but I’ve got to go now. You two have a good evening and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hotch stated, straightening his tie as he stood. Derek followed suit and went over to man-hug the other. 

“Thanks for coming, Hotch. See you tomorrow!” Derek smiled as he spoke and Spencer sent his boss a slight smile and an awkward wave. When the door closed behind Hotch, Spencer pulled his knees to his chest and groaned.

“It’s okay, Spencer. He wasn’t judging you. That’s not how Hotch works.” Derek sat back down next to him, closer than he was when Hotch was with them. 

“Yeah. I know. That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Spencer mumbled.

“Well, what would make you feel better?” Derek inquired, subconsciously shifting his leg closer to Spencer’s.

“Want me to be honest?” 

“Always.”

“Cutting myself. Or being dead. Either would suffice right now.” Spencer proclaimed bluntly.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you can’t do either of those.” Derek replied after a sharp inhale of surprise. Spencer could tell that his friend wasn’t quite used to the situation at hand yet.

“Yeah. I am profoundly aware.” Spencer grumbled. A frustrated groan escaped his throat and his hands rolled into fists. “I feel like I’m losing control over everything in my life.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I wish things were different. I wish I could take your pain away from you.” Derek frowned. After a moment of hesitation, Spencer reached over and grasped the man’s hand, intertwining Derek’s fingers with his own. 

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered, “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this. It should never have fallen to your responsibility.” 

“Pretty boy, don’t apologize, please. This is not a burden at all. Quite frankly, I’m honored to be a helper to the smartest person in this entire world.” Derek cooed, squeezing Spencer’s hand slightly. He leaned back against the couch cushions, opening up a space for Spencer to nestle in if he wanted to. Spencer’s lips twitched upwards and he accepted gratefully.

“Thank you, Derek.” Spencer sighed contentedly as he settled down and nestled into Derek’s side, untangling their fingers so his hand could rest in the center of the man’s chest. Derek’s arm wrapped around Spencer cautiously. 

“No need to thank me.” Spencer couldn’t see Derek, but he knew his friend had a smile on his face. “Do you want to watch anything?” Derek asked.

“Um, sure. Would it be okay to watch a documentary?” Spencer asked, cheeks flushed. He felt nervous about sharing his so-called nerdy habits with anyone. 

“Of course!” Derek chuckled, “Do you have a preference?” 

“I’ve been meaning to watch one on Netflix called ‘Cowspiracy’. It’s about the meat industry and the harm it does to the environment.” Spencer exclaimed, excitement bubbling from Derek’s willingness. 

“Alright, sounds good. Let’s do this!” Derek grinned.

~~~~

“Can you believe they showed that bird getting its neck chopped off? Gross!” Derek shivered as he clicked the off button on the remote. Spencer smiled at his disgust.

“Really? After everything we see on the job, a bird dying bothers you?” Spencer laughed.

“Well, I mean,” Derek sputtered, “It was just so gruesome! I wasn’t expecting them to show it!” Spencer laughed again at his friend’s attempt to explain his emotions. He tilted his head upwards slightly so he could see Derek’s face. He was excited to discuss everything. 

“It was really good, though. It is truly mind-blowing that it takes a thousand gallons of water to make just one gallon of milk! And the beef is even worse; two-thousand five-hundred gallons of water to produce one pound of beef. It’s absurd!” Spencer rambled, the excitement of knowledge running through his veins. “Plus, animal agriculture is the leading cause of species extinction, ocean dead zones, water pollution, and habitat destruction. And livestock and their byproducts account for fifty-one percent of all of the world’s greenhouse gasses.” Spencer took a deep breath and lifted his head and hand from Derek’s chest before continuing.

“The idea that livestock covers a whole of forty-five percent of the earth’s total land is crazy! I can’t even fathom how the U.S. livestock produces 116,000 lbs of waste per second. Livestock and meat production are literally destroying the world and nobody even realizes it!” Spencer stopped, the realization of what he was doing dawning on him. “Oh. I’m so sorry, I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” His face was hot and he imagined it was a flaming red shade. Spencer buried his head back into Derek’s chest, hand returning to rest beside it.

“No, no, Spencer, I love hearing your ramblings and facts. You’re right, all of that was fascinating. The fact that that brain of yours retained all of that and spat it back out is even more fascinating .” Derek grinned, squeezing Spencer with the arm that was lazily wrapped around him and using his other to lay a hand atop Spencer’s hand on his chest. 

“Okay.” Spencer smiled into Derek’s shirt. He snuggled closer and let out a content sigh, fingers curling around the shirt ever so slightly. Spencer heard Derek’s sharp intake of breath at Spencer’s curled fingers and he had to bite back a laugh. 

“You okay over there, Derek?” Spencer teased, gripping tighter and using his thumb to draw circles over his sternum just below the collarbone. It was usually Derek teasing him, but now he was taking the wheels. 

“Mhm. Yep. Great.” Derek rasped. Spencer stopped short at the tone in his friend’s voice. It seemed almost like Derek was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable, but not with a negative connotation. Spencer felt his heart skip a beat at his realization; Derek was flustered . He was shocked. ‘Derek’ and ‘flustered’ shouldn’t even belong in the same sentence together. 

“Are you sure? You seem,” Spencer bit his lip, deciding to forget nerves and make a risky comment, “You seem flustered .” An almost undetectable strangled noise scraped past Derek’s throat as he shifted slightly. 

“I don’t fluster, pretty boy.” Derek grated out.

“Are you sure, Der?” Spencer tested out the nickname, enjoying the way it felt on his tongue. Derek was completely unprepared for it. Spencer felt his friend’s chest stop moving below him, breathing sounds replaced by the rapid beating of his heart. 

“Der?” Derek questioned, chuckling nervously.

“Yeah, do you like it?” Spencer laughed back, his head moving back from its hiding spot. 

“I don’t know.” Derek said after a moment’s contemplation. 

“Then I’ll use it.” Spencer grinned and laughed, tossing his head back. Derek did the same, and soon enough the two were laughing hysterically on the couch. Whatever spell that had fallen over them lifted almost as quickly as it came. Spencer wasn’t sure if he was grateful or sad; all he knew was that new feelings were stirring inside of him and he wasn’t sure what to do about them.

It was then that Spencer realized something monumental. He gasped and sat up straight. Derek looked at him with a concerned look in his eyes, head tilted in question.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked nervously.

“I- I am- I don’t know. I don’t know.” Spencer’s mouth was opening and closing as his brain short-circuited. This had never happened before.

“Hey, whatever it is, it’ll be fine.” Derek was growing concerned. Spencer finally met his eyes and gritted his teeth in preparation for his proclamation. 

“You- you got rid of my urges.” 

“Spencer! That’s amazing!” Derek exclaimed, “Why would you not be sure if it’s a good thing?”

“Nobody has ever done that before. I don’t know how you did. I don’t-” Spencer was scrambling to find the right words to explain himself, “It’s new.” 

“Oh. I see. It’s not something you’re used to, so it’s throwing you off, yes?” Derek’s eyes widened a bit as he recognized what was happening.

“Mhm. It’s good - I guess - but it’s not in my typical life structure.” Spencer was swaying side to side. Derek left his arm around Spencer’s shoulders, moving with him. 

“I understand, it makes sense; you crave routine. It makes sense for you to feel anxious when something is amiss - good or not.” Derek murmured, rubbing his shoulder gently. 

“Control. For me, it’s about control. Routine is second to control. Then again, routine is built off of control, so that adds up nicely. I’m not going to have a lot of control anymore.” Spencer choked back a sob, upset that he was so easily unnerved. 

“I know, pretty boy. I’m going to do my best to give you control where I can. Trust me when I say that I will do whatever I can to make you feel the safest and most comfortable I can in the coming weeks.” Derek reassured him. Spencer smiled faintly and nodded, sniffling slightly.

“Thank you.” Spencer murmured.

“Anything for you.” Derek replied.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Can you order Chinese for dinner?” Spencer smirked as Derek’s face morphed from compassion to exasperation. 

“Yeah. yeah, alright. You got me with that one.” Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone, sneaking in glares at Spencer as he ordered. Spencer grinned in response. 

~~~~

“That was delicious, thank you for ordering that.” Spencer smiled smugly as he wiped his lips with a napkin.

“Anything for you, Spencer.” Derek replied, feigning annoyance.

“Well. It’s only 7. What should we do?” Spencer hopped down from his stool in front of the island, moving to throw his garbage away. Usually, he would just leave it and drag himself to bed, but he figured he should clean up after himself if Derek was going to be staying. 

“Good question,” Derek mused, “maybe we could do something chill, like playing a game of Uno?” 

“Mm. That’s a good idea.” Spencer smiled and went to retrieve the card game from a cabinet in his bookshelf while Derek cleaned up his trash. 

Spencer plopped on the floor next to his coffee table in the living room, dumping the cards out on the surface in front of him. Derek joined him as he began to shuffle the cards, sitting across from him. Spencer met Derek’s eyes briefly and smiled when he realized the man was already watching him. 

“Are you ready to lose?” Spencer asked mischievously as he handed Derek his cards.

“In your dreams, pretty boy.” Derek retorted, snatching the cards out of Spencer’s hand with a smirk.

~~~~

The games were played relatively quietly, the only noise being grunts or exclamations, and the occasional tease. As they reached the end of their third game, Derek broke the silence between the two.

“Hold on, let’s not start another game just yet,” Derek declined the new hand Spencer was holding out to him, “I need to ask you a question, and you’re not going to like it.” Spencer froze.

“Yeah, okay. What’s up?” Spencer squirmed nervously.

“Did you use the blade that we found in the bathroom?” Derek asked, watching him closely for any reaction.

“Hah. Um, no. No, I just wanted to stash it there for later. I thought maybe since you had searched the bathroom already that you wouldn’t search it again.” Spencer laughed insincerely. He was doing his very best to lie without giving anything away, something he typically was good at.

“You- okay. Alright. I’m glad you didn’t.” Derek replied. A glint of suspicion flashed in his eyes, and Spencer knew he didn’t believe him. He also knew that Derek wasn’t going to push him after the amount of emotional taxation he had already experienced throughout the day. 

“Me too.” Spencer lied smoothly. Guilt was tearing through his body, the emotion so strong he was only barely able to keep a straight face. He knew that Derek would be disappointed with him if he found out.

“Do you want to head to bed since we have work tomorrow?” Derek looked up at the clock and asked.

“Can we,” Spencer felt his face begin to flush, “can we play one more game. Just to even it out.” 

“What do you mean?” Derek’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion.

“We played three games. Playing another would end it on four, which is much better.” Spencer mumbled.

“Wait, is this an OCD thing? The obsession with numbers you were talking about?” 

“Hah. Yeah.” Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks in embarrassment.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, Spencer. I’m not going to judge you. I’m down to play one more.” Derek smiled softly, encouraging Spencer to hand him his cards.

“Okay. But you still aren’t going to win.” Spencer smirked.

“Fourth time’s a charm, I guess.” Derek slapped a card down to start the game.

“No, Derek, it’s supposed to be third times a charm, you’re-” Spencer began to speak but was cut off mid-sentence. 

“Pretty boy, I was being sarcastic. Just vibe it.” Derek grinned. 

“Just vibe it ?” Spencer repeated incredulously, earning a laugh from his friend.

  “Yes, just vibe it.”

~~~~

After the game was over, the two men went through their nighttime routines. It didn’t take them very long, and they were ready to sleep by 9:30. To most, 9:30 was a very early bedtime, but they knew they would need the sleep.

“Where are your extra blankets and pillows? I’m going to be sleeping next to the bed tonight. Sorry, but I can’t leave you alone.” Derek asked, explaining himself.

“Don’t be silly. You can sleep up here,” Spencer laughed, “It’s not like you haven’t before.” He crawled into bed slowly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.” Derek hesitated. 

“Of course. There’s plenty of room.” Spencer motioned to the spot next to him on the bed, pointing out the large amount of space left open.

“Alright. I’ll be here if you need me. Don’t worry about waking me up if you need to, I’ll be there no matter what time it is.” Derek climbed into bed with Spencer, pulling the covers back.

“Thank you.” Spencer wrapped his arms around his torso, squeezing softly. Before he could lay down fully, Spencer saw Derek pause.

“What’s this?” Spencer followed Derek’s gaze and his heart dropped. He had completely forgotten about the blood stain he left on the sheets during his nap.

“Oh. I must have bled through my bandages.” Spencer shrugged weakly.

“That’s no good. Come with me, I’ll get those bandages changed for you.” Derek began to leave the bed.

“No, no, you don’t need to do that. I already, uh, took care of it.” Spencer smiled as truthfully as he could. He absolutely had not done so, but if he had admitted that, Derek would have pushed until he agreed to let him change it. Then he would see the mess Spencer had made.

“Okay,” Derek drawled, suspicion laced through his voice, “Let me change the sheets and then we can go to sleep, yeah?”

“Okay.” Spencer slid out of bed and watched as Derek took care of changing the bedding. He smiled gently as he observed his friend. He wasn’t sure how he managed to get so lucky as to have Derek in his life. 

“Come on, pretty boy. Bed’s ready.” Derek called to him.

“Okay.” Spencer replied, crawling into bed with Derek. He sighed in relief as his body stretched under the comforter. Spencer stilled, unsure of where to lay. Should he curl up next to Derek again, or should he stay strictly on his side of the bed? 

Derek answered his questions for him, opening up a spot where Spencer could curl up into the man’s side. He looked up questioningly, unsure if Derek was providing him a place to sleep or simply stretching. The last thing he wanted was to get closer only to find that Derek wasn’t even offering him anything. 

Spencer felt the bed shift slightly and he watched as Derek scooted slightly closer. He took this as a sign that he was allowed to seek comfort in the man, so he scooted himself into the spot next to Derek. Spencer let out a breath of contentment as he laid his head down on his friend’s chest and felt the man’s arm wrap around him. 

“Thank you.” Spencer breathed, burying his face in Derek’s chest. 

“Always, pretty boy.” Derek’s head tilted to lay above Spencer’s, chin resting on the top of Spencer’s head. Spencer knew he would be getting decent sleep since he was with Derek. Hopefully, he would be ready for tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

Surprise and shock coursed through Spencer’s veins when he woke up to sunlight shining through the windows. He went through the entire night without a nightmare waking him up. He had had a nightmare, of course, but it wasn’t enough to startle him at some point in the middle of the night. Spencer felt a smile forming on his face as he slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Derek from his resting spot on the man’s chest. His friend was still asleep, chest rising up and down slowly and face relaxed with the peace of unconsciousness.

Lifting his head slightly, Spencer read the time on his digital clock: 6:57. Only three more minutes until he would need to get up for work. He sighed and laid his head back down on Derek’s chest, wanting to soak it in as much as possible before the stressful day ahead. Derek shifted underneath Spencer as he began to wake up.

“Morning, pretty boy.” Derek’s husky murmur sent a jolt through Spencer, a jolt he was experiencing more and more often. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it just yet.

“Good morning.” Spencer yawned and smiled at Derek, pulling himself up to a sitting position.

“You didn’t wake up to a nightmare last night.” Derek’s eyes widened at the realization.

“Mhm. No screaming.” Spencer gave his friend a tight-lipped smile.

“Did you have any nightmares? Ones that didn’t wake you up?” Derek asked.

“Yeah. All night. I don’t remember the last time I had a good dream.” Spencer shrugged and reached up to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Derek frowned as he sat up next to Spencer.

“No need to apologize,” Spencer reached out and laid a hand on Derek’s in a futile attempt to make him less sad, “I’m used to it.” Derek just gave him a heavyhearted look and squeezed his hand before sliding off of the bed.

“Can I use your shower?” Derek asked, rummaging in his go-bag for an outfit to wear.

“Yeah, feel free. I should probably shower as well.” Spencer huffed as he dragged himself out of bed. He needed to change his bandages as well; they were crusty with blood and made it painful to move his arm.

“Alright. Be safe, okay?” Derek seemed reluctant to leave Spencer alone. He couldn’t blame him, not after everything he had put his friend through.

Spencer grunted and gave him an aloof smile before heading to his closet to pull together an outfit. He heard the shower flick on in the hall bathroom. Usually he would use that shower, but since Derek was here, Spencer was stuck with his on-suite bathroom. The first-aid kit was in the on-suite already, so it worked out in the end.

Entering the bathroom, Spencer dropped his clothes on the counter and closed the door behind him. He locked the door after a moment’s hesitation. He knew Derek would be unhappy, but he was busy and wouldn’t even know. It wasn’t like he had anything sharp with him.

Spencer grit his teeth as he undid his bandages. The skin beneath was gruesome, the sheer amount of damage on full display. He took a deep breath before stripping out of the rest of his clothes. Spencer had to practically peel off his sweatpants and shirt, his skin soaked with sweat after a night full of terrors. Instead of cleaning and re-bandaging his wounds now, Spencer decided to clean them in the shower. He might as well, if he’s going to be cleaning the rest of himself there.

Cleaning himself was nearly impossible considering the entirety of Spencer’s arms were covered in new and healing gashes that sent spikes of pain through his entire body. He soon came to realize how difficult washing his hair was going to be. Groaning, Spencer gave up on his hair and moved to wash his body. His hair could wait; he probably had some spray shampoo around here somewhere anyway.

Spencer jumped as a knock sounded from the door. He could hear the doorknob jiggling and immediately moved to turn the water off. Luckily, he was done washing the soap off of his skin.

“Spencer? Spencer, open up! Please, man.” He could hear Derek pounding on the door, voice strained with worry.

“I’m coming, Derek. I just need to re-bandage.” Spencer winced as he said it, still not used to speaking about his self-harm aloud.

“Let me in, I’ll help you. We’ve got to go, we have a case.” Derek’s voice was still laced with concern, but seemingly less than before.

“Um, no, I’ve got this. I know what I’m doing. I need to put my clothes on as well.” He hoped the last sentence would ward off his friend.

“Put some clothes on and open the door, Spencer,” Derek sighed, “I’ve seen them before, I’m not going to judge you. Plus, you’ll work slower than I will. I saw you wincing this morning; I know you’re in pain.”

“Fine,” Spencer cringed, knowing what was about to happen, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He quickly dressed himself, minus the collared shirt and sweater waiting on the counter. Spencer unlocked the door begrudgingly.

“Hey, pretty boy, let’s-” Derek began to speak but cut off abruptly as his eyes traced over Spencer’s arms.

“I pulled out the first-aid kit. It’s right there.” Spencer supplied, nodding to the box sitting next to his clothes on the counter.

“Spencer,” Derek took a slow, deep breath through his nose, “You said you didn’t do anything with that blade.”

“Yeah, well, never trust an addict, I guess.” Spencer joked, snorting.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Derek looked up and met Spencer’s eyes. The man’s face was expressionless, stiff and stony.

“I mean, no, not for you. For me, it sort of is.” Spencer shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t we have a case to be getting ready for?” He was trying his best to divert Derek’s attention elsewhere.

“Yes, we do,” Derek reached up and ran a hand down his face, “But I am not letting you out of my sight at all, not for one second. I can’t trust you, obviously.”

“Yeah, okay.” Spencer toyed with his fingernails as he sat down on the toilet lid, holding his arms out to Derek. Without another word from either, Derek cleaned and bandaged Spencer’s arms. He left the room as soon as he was done, making sure to leave the door open halfway. Spencer changed into the rest of his clothes quickly. 

“I’m ready.” Spencer said quietly, throwing his go bag over his shoulder and walking towards the door. The tenseness in the air was palpable. He understood where Derek’s anger was coming from, but he couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the frustration his friend had shown.

“Let’s go, then.” Derek was waiting at the door and swiftly exited the apartment. Spencer followed him out, locking the apartment behind them.

“You’re angry with me.” Spencer stated. No questioning was needed to infer Derek’s emotions.

“Yeah, a little bit. I know it’s hard, but it does hurt that you lied to me.” Derek huffed as the two descended the stairs swiftly.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer murmured, voice just loud enough to hear. He felt horrible, the last thing he wanted was to hurt his friend.

“Just don’t let it happen again, okay?” Derek frowned. Spencer simply nodded in response. Wordlessly, the two finished their descent and made it to Derek’s car. Spencer slid into the passenger’s seat and laid his bag at his feet, immediately leaning against the door and looking out the window. He didn’t want to deal with any disappointed looks from his friend; he didn’t think he could handle it.

Spencer ignored Derek entering the vehicle, the only sign of recognition being the slight flinch at the door slamming closed. Neither man wanted to be upset with the other, but the uneasiness and despondency floating around the car kept each one from speaking. The air in the car was stagnant and hot, suffocating.

“I promise I’m not mad at you, pretty boy. I’m just sad. I hate to see you like this.” Derek was the one to finally break the silence as the car pulled into the lot at the BAU. Spencer bit the inside of his lip. He had to prepare himself to switch from Home Spencer to Work Spencer, and Derek engaging him in emotional conversations would not be helpful.

“It’s fine. I understand.” Spencer gave Derek a small smile, meeting his eyes briefly. The vehicle slowly pulled to a stop. Spencer was opening the door and out of the car seconds after it stopped moving. He couldn’t stand being cramped in there any longer.

“You okay? We can always go home, it’s alright.” Derek looked concerned. Spencer suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“Morgan. I’m fine.” Spencer spit angrily. He took a deep breath in and let his face relax, shaking his head softly and squaring his shoulders. “I’m ready whenever you are.” He looked pointedly at Derek, who was standing still and watching him with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Derek turned and headed to the building’s entrance, Spencer following behind, “What was that?”

“What was what?” Spencer asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“That whole deep breath and shaking.” Derek glanced at him and Spencer saw apprehension peeking out behind his eyes, his micro-expressions conveying slight concern.

“Oh. I was getting ready to go in. Switching from Home Spencer to Work Spencer.” He shrugged as he entered the building after Derek, who had gracefully held the door for him.

“Oh.” Derek said, and Spencer gave him a soft nod. They made their way up to their floor in silence. Spencer was grateful for it, if he was being honest. Quiet was something he craved, something he wasn’t getting a lot of now that he was constantly being supervised. Spencer vowed to hold tight to every silent moment he could take.

 Not a second after walking through the doors and into the bullpen they were ushered to the meeting room. The rest of the team was already seated around the table, and Spencer and Derek took a seat next to one another.

“Okay, this is an extremely urgent case, so I’m going to go through a brief synopsis of what we have really quickly, and then we need to head to the jet. Garcia, can you pull up those images for me?” Hotch spoke briskly, not even giving Spencer a second glance, something he was extremely grateful for.

“We have five victims so far, all happening in downtown and the suburban outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia. Three of the victims are females - Lindsay Grant, 19, May Smith, 17, and Marie Dodd, 15. The other two are males - Shane Calloway, 19, and Finn Sanders, 14. Toxicology reports show that they all died from cyanide poisoning. However, their deaths were made to look like suicides,” Hotch motioned to the board projecting the crime scene photos, “They all have a deep laceration from wrist to inner elbow on each arm, and they have determined that the cuts were made post-mortem.”

“So it was framed to look like suicide.” Derek spoke up, frowning. Spencer sat next to him in complete silence. Crime scene photos usually didn’t bother him, but these made his stomach turn. He easily could’ve ended up dead like these kids - hell, he almost did. Spencer had to shake the thought away; he couldn’t be thinking about what he had done as a teenager. It was bad enough that he had the ability to watch each attempt play out in complete detail, why would he want to bring it to his mind at work? Spencer maintained a flat expression and pushed at his memories. He had to compartmentalize now.

“The victimology is all over the place. Different genders, different races, different ages. What’s the common denominator?” Spencer wondered aloud.

“I mean, their ages are within the teenage years, so they aren’t too far of a stretch. But the differing genders and races are confusing. Were their social statuses and classes similar?” Emily asked. Spencer could feel Derek’s eyes on him, could tell that the man was trying to check in on his mental status. He opted to ignore him. He would be fine as long as he didn’t stare at the images in front of the team for too long.

“No, they weren’t. Two were upper middle class, one lower middle class, and the other two just above the poverty status.” Garcia piped in, adding some information she must have gotten from prior research.

“Let’s go ahead and get ready to leave, they want us there as soon as possible. The killings are all happening between 3-5 days apart, meaning we need to hurry. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch began to gather his belongings and the team followed his lead. Spencer stole a glance at JJ, worried about how she was holding up. He could see the tenseness in her body and decided to approach her.

“Are you okay? I know this probably isn’t easy for you.” Spencer murmured, frowning in concern and compassion.

“I’ll be fine. I just need a minute to prepare myself,” JJ gave him a small smile, “Thanks for checking in, Spence.”

“Of course.” Spencer gave her a sad smile before turning to exit the room. Derek was waiting for him at the door, and the sight forced an involuntary huff from him. He hated being babysat 24/7.

“Reid, Morgan, can I speak with you for a moment?” Hotch’s voice rang out through the room, stopping the two in their tracks. Derek turned around and immediately began to walk around the table while Spencer turned slowly and hesitated. JJ must have noticed the anxiousness in the room and she walked out quickly, leaving Hotch, Derek, and Spencer alone. She even closed the door behind her after glancing over the group with a look akin to worry.

“Reid, you are to stay with a team member at all times; you are not allowed to be alone. I’m going to be putting you in a room with Morgan for this case. You will not be going out in the field. Let me be clear,” Hotch looked sternly at Spencer, “If you break any of these rules, I will suspend you.”

“Okay. I’ll follow your rules,” Spencer gathered the courage to meet his boss’s eyes before saying, “But I will tell you that I don’t think my staying with a team member 24/7 is necessary. I know how to control myself on a case. Never once have I engaged in any self-harming behavior when out working.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to take any chances. Morgan, are you okay with taking on the responsibility of monitoring Reid at night and possibly during the case?” Hotch turned to Morgan and asked.

“Of course. Hotch, I think I should probably tell you-” Derek started to speak, but Spencer cut him off.

“Don’t.” He hissed in his friend’s ear. Spencer hoped he sounded intimidating enough - or scared enough - that Derek wouldn’t continue.

“Spenc- Reid, he needs to know.” Derek shot back. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened, Morgan?” Hotch asked, eyes fixed on Derek and ignoring Spencer despite his continued begging for the conversation to be dropped.

“That razor he brought to the bathroom. He, uh, he didn’t tell us the truth,” Derek grimaced, “He did use it. I helped him rebandage and all of that this morning and saw it.”

“Spencer,” Hotch turned to face him, “Next time you feel like that, come to one of us. I know I can be intimidating, but I want to help you. We all care very deeply about you.” Hotch’s use of Spencer’s first name was jarring enough, but to hear him use it when they were working was a completely different form of crazy.

“Um. I’ll try. We should probably go now.” Spencer glanced at the clock, doing his best to avoid the situation at hand.

“Alright. I’ll meet you both on the jet. Be safe.” Hotch said his goodbyes as the three walked into the bullpen, Hotch heading to his office to grab a few things and Spencer and Derek headed off to the jet.

Despite the humiliation Spencer was feeling over being told on, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. This wasn’t like last time; wasn’t like with the Dilaudid. He had more than Derek to help him now. Spencer smiled and held that spark of hope close, vowing to do his best to kindle it to a fire.

~~~~

The team was all loaded on the jet and in their respective seats. Spencer was sitting on the couch next to Derek - who had insisted on sitting next to him - while the others were seated at the tables.

“Based on the information we have, I’d venture to say that the unsub we are dealing with is inexperienced. Cyanide poisoning is a very easy method of killing and doesn’t require physical strength. This unsub therefore is probably not sadistic, which is also cemented by the fact that their bodies were mutilated post-mortem.” Hotch explained, beginning their usual jet-ride brief.

“Crime fighters, I have a tidbit of helpful information for you!” Garcia’s voice crackled through a speaker, getting everyone’s attention. “I have a connection between the victims.”

“What would that be?” Hotch inquired.

“They all attended a specific group therapy for teenagers dealing with depression, anxiety, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts/actions. All of them were in treatment for some psychiatric illness and had expressed thoughts of suicide or actually attempted in the past.” Garcia spoke softly, obvious sadness laced through her tone.

“That probably has to do with the post-mortem mutilation.” Emily pointed out, earning hums of agreement from the rest of the team.

“But what would the unsub stand to gain from killing and mutilating these kids? That’s the part that doesn’t make sense to me.” JJ inquired.

“The unsub must have some personal attachment to a piece of the victimology, whether that be a psychiatric illness, a suicide attempt, or even maybe had attended the support group in the past.” Rossi spoke up.

“Yes, but that doesn’t explain the why.” Derek frowned.

“There could be a multitude of reasons. Maybe the unsub is jealous of seeing the victims working towards recovery - and maybe even being almost done achieving it - or it could be that the unsub is too scared to kill themselves and is using these other kids as proxies for themself, which would explain the need to make the death look like a suicide. The unsub may even feel justified in the killings by thinking that they were doing the victims a favor.” Spencer replied. The rest of the team nodded along with what he had said.

“Those are good theories. We also need to look at the possibility of these homicides being targeted for something wrong that they did. It’s possible that the unsub feels responsible for handing out judgment and punishment to the people who live different and disagreeable lifestyles to them. There are still many people who stigmatize mental health heavily and could see people with psychiatric illnesses as a stain to the population that needs exterminating. We’ve seen it before.” Hotch jumped back into the conversation.

“That’s a promising idea. We need to find the strongest connection between these victims. What illness does each of them have, or what therapy each does. Even what medication they may be on, if they are on them at all. There’s a lot to consider with victimology.” Emily added.

“Alright team, let’s take a step back for now and start again when we land. It looks like we probably have a lot of work ahead of us.” Hotch said, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.

The rest of the team all moved to do their own things. Spencer wanted to pull out the book he brought with him to read, but he was simply too tired to focus on it. Instead, he opted to lay down on the couch, head resting on the sofa’s arm and feet curled next to Derek, who was still sitting at the other end of the couch.

“Is that even comfortable?” Derek laughed as Spencer struggled to find a spot to put his head.

“No, not really,” Spencer huffed exaggeratingly, “I was hoping it would be.” It didn't matter how many times Spencer rode the jet; he always hoped the couch would magically become comfier.

“You can use my lap as a pillow if you want, or my shoulder, like you did back at your house.” Derek offered. Spencer noticed the hesitance in Derek’s voice at the offer, but he also noticed something else; something that sounded suspiciously like how his brain did when it was telling him to kiss Derek.

“Yeah, okay.” Spencer slowly rearranged himself so his head was resting on Derek’s leg. He sighed in contentment at the change. For some reason, simply being close to his friend was calming.

“Is this good, pretty boy?” Derek asked softly. Spencer simply hummed in response. He didn’t want to open his eyes; he already could feel the team’s eyes watching them. Spencer resisted the urge to squirm under their gazes.

“Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be right here.” Derek reached down and ran his fingers through Spencer’s hair delicately. It felt so good that Spencer didn’t even feel worried about what the team may be thinking.

“Thank you.” Spencer mumbled, voice slurred by the sleep creeping up on him. It didn’t take long before Spencer’s body relaxed and he fell into a deep sleep.

 ~~~~

Voices brought Spencer back to consciousness. With a leap of heart, he realized that Derek was still stroking his hair. He opted to keep his eyes closed and soak up the feeling for as long as he could.

After being awake for a little, the voices switched from a jumble of sounds to comprehensible words. Spencer realized with a jolt that he had awoken to a conversation about him.

“Is he doing okay? Something seems off with him. He hasn’t acted this way since, well,” JJ’s voice tapered off and she took a deep breath before continuing, “since after Georgia.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that the kid is more reserved. Do you know anything?” Rossi asked, presumably talking to Hotch or Derek.

“He’s having a bit of a hard time, but it’s being handled. I’m staying with him currently.” Derek answered quietly. Spencer could hear the hesitance in his friend’s voice. He appreciated Derek’s ability to know when to speak and when to hold back on divulging information.

“This is actually a good time for me to mention this,” Hotch spoke up, voice raising ever so slightly to make sure everyone could hear him but wouldn't wake up Spencer, “Reid is going to need someone with him at all times. If I assign him to work with someone other than Morgan, I need that person to keep constant eyes on him. If he needs to go to the restroom, only let him in for three minutes. Any longer and you should go check on him. Everyone understand?”

“Hotch, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Emily pressed, distress lacing her voice.

“I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry, but this is something personal that only Reid has the right to share with the rest of you, and he has expressed his aversion towards doing so.” Hotch sighed. Spencer hated that he was causing all of this. He didn’t want anyone to be concerned about him.

“Morgan, do you know what’s going on as well?” JJ asked, almost accusingly. Spencer could understand the frustration of the unknown, but he hated that JJ was taking the stress out on others.

“Yes, JJ, I do. I wouldn’t be staying with him if I didn’t.” Derek shot back, attitude turning snarky. Spencer felt his friend’s body stiffening beneath him.

“How long have you known that something’s wrong, and why weren’t we aware of this sooner? He obviously needs help. I can’t believe you are both hiding things for him. We all saw how that turned out last time.” JJ stated pointedly.

“JJ, it’s okay. Reid’s got Hotch and Morgan. We just have to trust that they will help him, and we both know they’re fully capable of doing so.” Emily’s response was tender. She always knew how to calm JJ down from a spike of anger.

“Yeah, alright. Okay. But if something bad happens, you need to let us help. Please take care of him.” JJ sounded like she was grimacing. Spencer felt self-loathing bubbling up in his chest. He caused problems everywhere he went. He tried to take a slow, deep breath through his nose, but quickly realized he couldn’t fight the oncoming panic attack.

Spencer took as deep a breath as possible and began to move, as if he was stirring awake. He didn’t want them to know he had heard their conversation. He rubbed blearily at his eyes and sat up slowly. Before he could get wrapped into any conversations, Spencer mumbled something about having to pee. He walked as slowly as possible to the jet’s bathroom.

After shutting the door behind him, Spencer leaned against it, sliding to the floor to place his head between his knees. He hated having panic attacks at work. The team had started talking again, but Spencer could only pick up fragments of what was being said. The conversation wasn’t of deep importance to him at the moment, anyway.

After sitting in the tiny room for what Spencer would guess was around three minutes, there was a faint knock at the door. It startled him out of his trance. He was glad he had managed to get his attack under control so quickly; that didn’t happen very often.

“You okay in there, Reid?” Hotch’s voice filtered through the door.

“Yeah, um,” Spencer cringed upon hearing his deep and raspy voice, “I’m good. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you have anything with you?” Hotch was considerably quieter now. Spencer knew the team couldn't possibly have heard him, but the anxiety that maybe - just maybe - someone else would know set off suppressed anger.

“Of course I don’t, Hotch. I told you I didn’t do that on cases.” Spencer snapped, voice so low it sounded more like a growl than a sentence.

“Alright. I just wanted to make sure.” Hotch sighed. Spencer immediately regretted the outburst; Hotch was only trying to help him.

He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, pleased to see that his eyes looked no more sunken in or red than usual. Quickly, he opened the door. Spencer was met with Hotch. The man must have been waiting for him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” Spencer apologized, hanging his head and looking at the floor.

“It’s alright, Reid. I just want you to be safe, that’s all.” Hotch reached out and, without thinking, patted his arm. Spencer flinched and let out a soft hiss of pain; the cuts were fresh enough for pain to flare from a heavy-handed touch. Hotch’s eyes widened and he pulled back quickly, apologizing profusely. Spencer reassured him that he wasn’t angry, everything was okay, it didn’t hurt that bad - even though he was angry, nothing was okay, and it hurt like hell. Spencer was a master of deceit.

As soon as he walked back to the couch, all eyes jumped up to check on him. Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He plopped down next to Derek, closer than he usually would when they were outside of his house.

“I’m really sleepy.” Spencer whispered, leaning over to rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. He ignored the confused and intrigued looks on his colleagues' faces and closed his eyes.

“Then go back to sleep. My shoulder is all yours.” Derek murmured back, laughing softly when he realized that Spencer’s eyes were already closed. There was a line that neither of them was willing to cross, a very fine line between friendly physical contact and intimate physical contact. Spencer knew better than to curl into Derek’s side, the man’s arm around him while he lay his head on Derek’s chest, even though that was all he wanted to do.

Spencer smiled as he felt Derek melting into his touch and resting his own head upon Spencer’s. They were in their own little world, and they were undisturbed by the blatant staring and tense atmosphere. All that mattered was each other’s warmth, feeling the weight of each other and holding it as their own. It was so blissful for the two, and before either knew it, they were collected away and dragged under into a soft, dreamy sleep. 

Chapter Text

Hotch woke up Spencer and Derek five minutes before their flight landed. They needed to be alert; this case was going to be a big one. They all went to drop their things off at the hotel where they were lodging before they would head over to the station. Spencer and Derek were currently putting things away in their room. It was nice; creamy walls, feather-soft beds, pristine white tile in the bathroom, a nice big tv situated on a dresser across the wall from their beds. Even though they wouldn’t spend much time here, they were relieved to have such a nice place to stay, given how tired they knew they would be when they did come back for the night.

“Are you sure you can handle this case?” Derek broke the comfortable silence in the room.

“Derek, I told you, I’m fine. You need to stop worrying about me. I’m good at compartmentalizing.” Spencer huffed, placing the last few items he would need at the station into his messenger bag.

“Alright. But, if it ever gets difficult, please take a break. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Derek reminded him softly.

“I think it’s JJ we need to worry about. This is going to hit home for her; you saw the way she looked when confronted with the crime scene photos.” Spencer deflected. He pulled his bag over his shoulder and motioned to the door, signaling that he was ready to leave.

“Stop deflecting. It’s going to be hard for you, too. JJ may have seen it, but, Spencer… you experienced it.” Derek grimaced as they both exited their room and headed down to the lobby.

“I’ll deflect all I want to, Morgan.” Spencer pushed the name out through his teeth, jaw clenched in frustration. It was time to work, not time to be emotional.

“Alright, okay. Let’s go then.” Derek gave up. Spencer found himself wishing his friend had kept pushing, but he wasn’t sure why. Just a moment ago he wanted Derek to leave him alone. So why did he now wish for Derek to press him harder?

They were both quiet as Derek drove them to the station. It was a repeat of when Derek had driven them to the Bureau earlier that morning. This silence wasn’t like that of the hotel room; this silence was oppressive, pushing in on them instead of simply floating around in the air like a fresh morning breeze.

The rest of the team was already at the station when Spencer and Derek arrived. They hurried inside and quickly greeted the officers before being directed to a room near the back of the station. There, they were met with their colleagues, whose heads were bent over crime scene photos scattered on a table. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He ignored the concerned look from Derek and entered the room fully to join the group around the table.

“What do we have so far?” Spencer asked. He leaned down to examine the various reports from the crime scenes.

“Not much. Garcia is still doing some digging to figure out the different connections between the victims.” Emily supplied, teeth grazing over her bottom lip in concentration.

“The most recent crime scene is in a park just outside of metro Atlanta. Emily and Rossi, go check it out and see what information you can gather. I will go with Morgan and Reid to the support group and chat with the counselors and possibly some of the teenagers as well. JJ, make sure the media doesn’t pick up on the support group connection, it could drive the unsub somewhere else.” Hotch stated authoritatively. 

Everyone began to disperse quickly. Spencer was both grateful and frustrated that he wasn’t assigned to investigate the crime scene. His ability to pick up on small details could be of great use to them, but he knew Hotch was trying to protect him. Spencer followed Derek and Hotch out of the room and to the parking lot, jumping into the back of the SUV while Hotch took the driver’s seat and Derek the passenger’s.

“Reid, I want you to watch for any suspicious behaviors from the counselors and the group members. If we are allowed, we are going to sit in on their meeting today. It will be starting in about,” Hotch glanced over at the clock on the dash, “half an hour.”

“Okay.” Spencer agreed. He wanted to argue back, ask if he could do more than observe, but he didn’t want to risk being pulled off of the case altogether.

“Morgan, I want you to do the interviews with me. We need to speak with the overseer first and then to the counselor of the group.” Hotch said, earning a nod from Morgan.

Spencer felt the anxiety coiling in his stomach tighten when the SUV turned into a parking lot. He glanced at the sign and felt his face paling; they were at a mental hospital. In hindsight, he should have expected the meetings to take place somewhere like this, but it made him anxious to no end. Mental hospitals were something that Spencer was all too familiar with, having visited them in his youth after a few attempts on his life.

They exited the vehicle swiftly and made their way through the doors. Spencer cringed slightly when the hospital air hit them, the smell bringing him back all those years ago. He desperately pushed at the images beginning to crowd his head; the blood flowing from his wrists, the restraints he woke up in, the doctors that roughed him up and sedated him after he had a panic attack and scratched open his wounds. Spencer didn’t realize he was digging his nails into his palms until Derek subtly reached over and squeezed his hand, pushing his fingers up and away from the crescent-shaped red marks beginning to form on his skin. He shot Derek a small smile before following Hotch to the front desk.

“Hello. My name is SSA Hotchner with the FBI, this is Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid. We would like to speak with Samantha Potts, your support group overseer.” They flashed their credentials and the nurse at the desk nodded and picked up the phone next to her to call the woman over.

“Mrs. Potts will be right over,” the nurse smiled at them and motioned to the seating area, “You can sit over there while you wait, if you would like to.” Hotch nodded shortly and the three of them entered the little waiting room. It was surrounded by glass, so they could see everything around them, including the hallway leading back to the ward. Spencer noticed the keypad beside the door that kept the patients locked inside. His stomach rolled and he shivered at the reminder of what it felt like to be trapped on the other side of the locked doors.

“You okay, pretty boy?” Derek murmured, concern swimming in his eyes.

“Fine.” Spencer breathed. He knew Derek could tell that he was lying. After all, the way he was wringing his hands and the anxious bouncing of his leg would give it away to anyone, trained profiler or not.

Spencer squirmed under Derek’s - and now Hotch’s - gaze, acutely aware of them attempting to dissect him. Usually he would just leave it, but he was already on edge and their stares were sending him over it.

“Will you both please stop looking at me like I’m about to fling myself off of a cliff? I’m fine,” Spencer glared at the two with squinted eyes, “And we agreed that we wouldn’t profile each other.”

“Sorry.” Derek jerked back and seemed embarrassed at being caught. Hotch simply nodded and leaned back in his chair, holding his arm up to check his watch. Just as Spencer was wondering how long it would take for the group leader to come out, he heard a buzzing at the double-doors leading into the unit.

“Hi! You must be the FBI agents!” A woman with long brown hair and a sweet, round face walked to them, “I’m Samantha Potts, but please, just call me Sam.”

“Hello, nice to meet you,” Hotch shook her hand and introduced everyone before asking, “Is there a place we can go to speak in private?”

“Of course, let’s go to my office.” Sam walked down the hallway, the agents trailing behind. Spencer felt nauseous at the realization that he would have to go behind the dreaded doors. He was going to be locked in. Logically, he was aware that he could leave whenever he wanted to, that he wasn't trapped in the same sense as before, but Spencer couldn’t help the panic building in his system as the memories from his childhood swarmed his head.

Sam reached out and typed the code to open the door and then grabbed a set of keys dangling at her waist. She used those to fully unlock the doors. This only served as fuel to Spencer’s panic; it was another set of restrictions that would trap them in.

The office they entered was only a few feet from the doors. Spencer was the last to walk in as he had been trailing behind. He took a glance down the hallway and happened to see a few patients. They were sitting in a circle on the floor in the common room playing a card game. Hot tears welled up behind Spencer’s eyes as he remembered a time when he had done just that. The card games were one of the only things that kept him - and the other patients - sane. Spencer looked away quickly and shut the door behind him, closing himself off from the ward. He hoped he had left his memories outside of the door with it.

“Take a seat, gentlemen. What can I help you with?” Sam asked as she sat down on the chair behind her desk.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the deaths of some of the members of your support group?” Hotch asked.

“Yes. They all seemed to be getting better, it came as a shock to all of us.” She lowered her gaze and her mouth turned downwards.

“I am so sorry for your losses. Can we ask you a few questions about them?” Derek spoke up.

“Yes, of course,” Sam hesitated before adding, “Can I ask why you’re here? I don’t understand why the FBI would be involved in any cases of suicide.”

“Well,” Hotch glanced over at Derek and Spencer, his eyes telling them to leave the talking to him, “All we can tell you right now is that we are investigating them as possible homicides, not suicides.”

“No.” Sam gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Spencer could see tears building up in the edges of her widened eyes.

“I am so sorry. This can’t be easy to hear,” Spencer spoke softly, “Especially if they were recovering well. Were all of them showing large signs of improvement?”

“Yes, they all seemed to be doing well. I mean, there were ups and downs, but overall, they were progressing.” Sam wiped her cheeks, cleaning them of runaway tears that escaped her eyes. She sniffled slightly, and Spencer could feel his heart breaking for her.

“Could you explain the dynamics for us, specifics for each of the victims?” Hotch questioned, more forward and gruffer than Spencer was. 

 “Yeah, of course. Um, I guess I’ll start with Lindsay. She was dealing with Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and self-harm by the means of cutting,” Spencer bit the inside of his lip to keep from flinching at her words, “She had a history of emotional abuse and attempted suicide once at 12 and another time at 18. She spent six months inpatient here before being released into outpatient care, which includes attending the group.”

“Was she on any medication?” Derek asked when Sam stopped talking.

“Yes, they all were. Lindsay was on Bupropion and Sertraline. It helped to lessen her depression and the anxiety stemming from the emotional abuse.” Sam answered, voice thick with emotion.

“Were there any signs of her sliding backwards in these past few weeks?” Spencer inquired.

“No; in fact, she was getting better. I was preparing to release her from the program altogether.” Sam sniffled.

“You’re doing great. Thank you. Could you possibly tell us about the rest?” Hotch spoke in a softer tone now, noticing Sam’s growing distress.

“May was dealing with a whole lot. She was diagnosed with OCD and PTSD from being raped when she was 14. She also engaged in cutting and dealt with chronic suicidal ideation. She came to us after her third suicide attempt around seven months ago and was released to outpatient one month ago. I could’ve sworn she was improving; she never missed a group session and stayed on top of her medication, which included Lamictal, Prozac, and Xanax as needed.” Sam spouted out the information purely from memory.

Spencer was getting the impression that this woman couldn’t have been involved in the murders, as she seemed too emotionally attached to the victims. Knowing the information off of the top of her head suggested that Sam was fully involved and invested in her patient’s care. It was highly unlikely that she would form such connections and help these teenagers to recover only to murder them when they finally reached a point of safety.

“Will you please give us similar overviews for Marie, Shane, and Finn?” Hotch asked.

“Of course. Marie is - was - a difficult case,” Sam caught herself when she realized her mistake in wording, “She came to us after her fifth suicide attempt. We were able to diagnose her with PTSD but were leaning heavily into the idea of a possible BPD diagnosis when she was old enough to properly receive one. There was a history of physical and sexual abuse which led to chronic suicidal ideation and self-harm.”

“Did all of them self-harm?” Derek cut in, curious to see if there could be a link.

“Yes, actually. Most of the patients we see here do,” Sam frowned before continuing, “Anyway. Marie was taking Seroquel, Effexor, and Clonazepam. We had just figured out what medications work for her and released her only a few weeks ago. She was attending the group as an outpatient.”

“And we also have Shane. Shane had Bipolar Disorder and a long history of manic episodes. For him, those manic episodes led to self-destructive behavior, including burning himself and attempting to take his own life. He was actually doing the group voluntarily. He had been a patient here in the past and decided to join our group sessions when we opened them up for previous patients to join, not just current intensive outpatients. He was on Lamictal and Sertraline.”

“Then there’s Finn. They were a difficult case as well. They had Autism, MDD, and OCD with a history of self-harm, suicidal ideation, and childhood neglect. However, they never actually attempted to take their own life. They voluntarily admitted themselves for outpatient care when they were worried they would act on their suicidal urges. Group sessions seemed to be helping them a lot, and I was planning on releasing them from outpatient care next week. They took Sertraline and Bupropion.” Sam took a deep breath when she was finished speaking. Her whole body had deflated, as if just talking about the teenagers overwhelmed her with unimaginable grief.

“Thank you so much for this information, Sam. It will be very useful for us. We just have one more request and then we’ll be out of your hair.” Hotch murmured, voice lowering in an attempt to soothe the stricken woman in front of them.

“Of course. What is it?” Sam straightened her back and sat up in the chair, refocusing her attention on Hotch.

“We are aware that you have a group session in around,” Hotch lifted his arm to look at the time on his watch, “ten minutes. I’d like for us to sit in and get a feel for the group dynamics. I know this could seem compromising for the group members, but it is critical that we do thorough investigations to catch the person who did this.” Hotch stated.

“Um. Yeah, okay. I’m sure that would be fine. Should I introduce you three or just leave you alone to observe in a corner?” Sam inquired. She seemed nervous about the idea of the agents joining in on their session. For what reason, Spencer wasn’t sure.

“It is probably best for us to just stay in a corner and not engage. In fact, just tell them that we are counselors in training and are observing as a learning assignment.” Hotch informed Sam, who returned his statement with a nod.

Without another word, Sam led them to the room where the group sessions were held. Spencer kept his eyes glued to the floor, scared to look up and process the scenes around him. The last thing he needed right now was for his focus to shift from the case to his past.

“We have group sessions here.” Sam said, her voice echoing softly through the room. Spencer looked up as he crossed the threshold, ignoring the click of the door locking behind him. They were in a small gym that had chairs forming a circle in the middle of the room. It was just like a typical group therapy session would be, and Spencer was hit with the irony of it all. He used to be a kid sitting in those chairs, and now he’s an adult whose job is to analyze the new kids who take up the chairs. It was a disconcerting swap.

“Is it okay for us to sit and observe from over there?” Hotch asked, pointing towards the back right corner of the room. A few extra stray chairs sat folded against the wall, making a perfect spot for the profilers to sit and watch from.

“Yes, that should be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish preparing my notes.” Sam gave them a small smile before heading towards a table on the opposite side of the room that held what looked to be therapy worksheets, adult coloring books, and a spot for the counselors to store their things. 

“She didn’t do it, and she doesn’t know anything.” Spencer stated definitively as soon as Sam was out of earshot.

“I agree,” Hotch replied, “Now we need to watch the members’ behavior. We have to remember that one of them could possibly be the unsub, as unlikely as it may seem.”

“No, it makes sense that it’s possible. Highly unlikely, yes, but possible nonetheless.” Spencer nodded as the three made their way over to their designated corner.

The group members filtered in slowly, some coming from inside the facility and some from outside. The three agents ignored the confused glances from the members. When the clock hit 11:30, Sam called for everyone’s attention.

“Alright everyone. Before we start, I’d like to inform you that we have three counselors-in-training sitting in with us today as a learning exercise. They will not be interfering, just observing.”

“Why would they want to watch our group? We’re the ones who ended up with half of us dead.” A girl snapped, a scowl forming on her face. Spencer took her in; she must have been around nineteen and had black hair and pale skin. She was wearing a t-shirt, and Spencer could see the self-harm and suicide attempt scars on her arms, some that looked fairly recent. He grit his teeth and tried not to look at them for too long. He did not want to be triggered, not one bit.

“Clara, that’s not very nice. Saying things like that can be upsetting. We prioritize compassion and kindness here, remember?” Sam frowned and spoke carefully.

“Yeah, whatever. It’s not like they’re here to be upset anyway.” The girl - Clara - mumbled.

“Can you just shut up? Look what you’ve done to Will!” Another girl spoke, anger lacing her voice. Spencer followed her pointed finger to a small boy, maybe 12 years of age, shivering in his seat. Tears were falling down his cheeks silently. The profilers didn’t miss the way he flinched at every raised voice.

“Oh please, it’s not a big deal. What’s he going to do, kill himself? We should be used to that by now.” Clara scoffed.

“Okay, guys, let’s back up. Clara, your grief is coming out as anger, while Layla’s is coming out as protection over Will. Will’s grief is showing through sadness. All of these responses are understandable. We just need to remember to treat each other with respect while we all work through this difficult time.” Sam broke into the argument calmly. However, Spencer could tell she felt anything but calm.

The group members quieted. Nobody dared to snap back at this; they knew it would only lead to reprimand. Spencer scrutinized each person in the circle carefully. Most were fidgety, legs bouncing and hands fiddling with clothing and jewelry. A select few sat still as stone, faces blank of emotion. Spencer recognized this as dissociation easily.

“Speaking of processing grief, today we are going to share our feelings over the recent events and learn more about grief and how to cope with it,” Sam passed a stack of papers to the girl sitting next to her and they were passed around the group as she continued, “Dealing with the death of a friend is difficult on its own. This grief that we are all experiencing is complex as it is compounded with multiple losses. It will be extremely difficult to work through, but it is possible to come out the other side feeling better. You’ll always miss them, but it gets easier with time.”

After Sam finished speaking, the only sounds in the room were the fluttering of papers and the scratching of Derek’s pen against pad. Spencer glanced over at Derek - who had a look of severe concentration on his face - and saw that he was attempting to form a victimology profile. It was a fairly extensive list, but there was no clear indication of strong connection between each. Spencer leaned over his shoulder to read the information his friend had pulled together so far.

All attended SunnyDays support group

All dealt with self-harm and suicidal ideation

All but one attempted suicide at some time in their life

All had history of abuse and/or neglect

All were teenagers (14-19)

All were medicated

 - Bupropion: Lindsay, Finn

 - Sertraline: Lindsay, Finn

 - Lamictal: May, Shane, Finn

 - Prozac: May, Shane

 - Lexapro: Lindsay

 - Xanax: May

 - Effexor: Marie

 - Clonazepam: Marie

 - Seroquel: Marie

All were doing well with treatment

Derek’s countenance radiated frustration. The connections were there, yes, but there was no large or vitally important connection that would lead to their murders. They did have a victim group, though. And the team would be damned if they let this unsub keep killing. It was time for action.

Chapter Text

It was late when Spencer and Derek arrived back at the hotel. They had spent some time speaking briefly with each group member, but none of them really stood out as a possible suspect. However, Hotch wanted to talk to them all one more time, just to make sure there were no stones left unturned. They would be brought to the station the next morning for a proper interview.

As soon as the two crossed the threshold to their room, Spencer collapsed on the bed resting against the far wall. He preferred to be in the corner; it made him feel safer. Changing clothes didn't even cross Spencer's mind before Derek laughed and brought it up.

"You going to sleep in your work clothes, pretty boy?" Derek teased playfully, and Spencer couldn't help but smile back.

"Yeah, yeah" Spencer grumbled as he pulled himself up off the mattress. He reached for his go bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and, after a moment's hesitation, a short-sleeved shirt.

"You can change first, if you'd like to. Leave the bathroom door open; I promise I won't look." Derek informed him.

"It's not like you haven't seen me before. I don't mind." Spencer was too tired to bother with modesty. He peeled off his work attire and replaced it with his sleep clothes, smiling mischievously at the blush forming on Derek's face as he averted his eyes.

"Oh, um, okay. Should I - can I just change here then?" Derek stuttered, obviously not expecting the flippancy Spencer was showing. It was widely recognized that Spencer valued privacy, so Derek was surprised, to say the least.

"Yeah, go for it." Spencer waved him off nonchalantly and collapsed into bed. He was completely burrowed under the hotel comforter before Derek had even finished changing. Spencer tried his best to keep his eyes off of Derek, to respect the man's privacy, but he found himself stealing several glances at the man. He felt fluttery as his eyes grazed over his friend's perfect figure. Never had he found a man to be this enticing before.

"Enjoying the show?" Derek asked, smirking. Spencer immediately pulled the covers over his head. An involuntary shameful whimper escaped his lips, and he felt heat spreading over his cheeks.

" 'M sorry." Spencer mumbled, voice muffled under the duvet.

"No need to be sorry. I'd be looking if I were you, too." Derek joked, earning a small chuckle from Spencer.

"So humble," Spencer laughed, pulling the covers off of his head, "The most humble man to ever grace this earth."

"Oh, yes. Of course! I am the humblest of them all." Derek grinned as he crawled under his own sheets. Something about the space between their beds made Spencer sad. They weren't far away from each other, only a few feet, but Spencer noticed the emptiness next to him with a pang of heartsickness and longing.

"I'm too tired for this," Spencer groaned, "I'm going to sleep. Goodnight, Derek." He reached over and pulled the string of his lamp, shadows falling over his side of the room.

"Good idea. I'm exhausted. Goodnight, pretty boy." Derek hummed, turning his own lamp off. Spencer let out a breath, grateful for the pitch black darkness cloaking the room. It used to scare him, but now it served as a protector, something of a shield between himself and the rest of the world. If he couldn't see it, it couldn't see him.

Spencer curled up tightly and clutched at his pillow in search of comfort. It didn't take long before he passed out, exhaustion taking hold of him and pulling him under.

~~~~

It was cold, so cold. His entire body felt numb and weak. The muscles in his arms and legs strained against the restraints and his eyes widened when Hankel approached him with a needle. He didn't want it, didn't need it. Everything hurt; his body, his heart, everything. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on for. He was so tired and so scared. A sharp scream escaped his lips as the needle got closer to his arm. He couldn't do it, couldn't...

"Spencer, wake up, it's just a dream." Derek's voice reverberated through Spencer's brain, shattering the images of the shed in rural Georgia. He sat up straight with a gasp.

"Oh. Um," Spencer let out a long sigh, "Sorry about that." The fear from the nightmare was still present, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the ones he experienced at home. He was able to form an inventory of his surroundings and focus back to consciousness fairly quickly. The room was still quite dark, but Derek had turned on one of the lamps, which was casting a soft warm glow over the room.

"You don't have to be sorry, Spencer. Is this- is this because we are in Georgia? I heard you muttering 'Georgia' over and over." Derek cautiously placed a hand over Spencer's, grateful when he wasn't pushed away.

"Fuck," Spencer snorted out a short laugh, "I didn't even think about that." Even though the team wasn't super close to where everything had taken place, Spencer could feel the ache in his chest growing stronger. He hadn't even stopped to consider what being in the state would do to him.

"I'm sorry." Derek murmured after a moment, seemingly shocked at the curse flying from Spencer's mouth.

"It's fine, I'm fine. What time is it?" Spencer swiveled to look at the clock sitting on the table between the beds, not waiting for an answer. The red illuminated lights informed him that it was two a.m. He bit his lip softly as he contemplated his choices; he could go back to sleep and possibly have another nightmare, or he could stay awake and be utterly exhausted at work.

"What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours? I can see those cogs turning." Derek inquired.

"I'm trying to decide what to do," Spencer explained, "I could go back to sleep and probably have another nightmare or I could stay awake and be exhausted all day tomorrow. Sleeping is the smart option, but I'm worried about having another nightmare."

"Do you think it would help if I came and slept in this bed with you? As a sort of protection, if you will." Derek asked softly. Spencer started and looked up at him.

"Are you sure? You've done it a lot lately, I don't want to bother you." Spencer fidgeted with his fingers, picking at his cuticles.

"Spencer," Derek began speaking as he entwined their fingers together, stopping him from destroying his skin, "I don't mind at all. In fact, I've found that I sleep better when I'm with you, anyway." Derek's face flushed at the admission.

"That's good, because I do too." Spencer smiled timidly. His mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour. He wasn't sure if this was something friends would say to each other or if this was some sort of subtle, casual flirting. Spencer found himself hoping for the latter.

"Good." Derek returned the smile as turned off the lamp and crawled into the bed next to Spencer.

They wordlessly took their positions, already accustomed to how they sleep together; Derek on his back and Spencer curled up to his side, head on the man's chest and Derek's arm wrapped around his torso. Spencer melted into Derek's touch quickly.

"Derek?" Spencer whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Always, pretty boy."

~~~~

Spencer woke up before Derek, pleased to find that he had done so naturally and not due to a nightmare. Sun was beginning to filter through the sheer curtains of their hotel room and the clock warned Spencer that he only had ten minutes before he needed to be out of bed. He took this time to look up from his spot on Derek's chest. Meticulously, Spencer took notice of Derek's lovely features. Everything about him was perfect.

Derek's eyes fluttered open and a groggy smile appeared on his face when he noticed Spencer looking up at him. Instead of quickly looking away, Spencer maintained eye contact and smiled back. He wasn't even sure what he was doing. He had never been in a situation like this before, one where physical contact and emotional connection was so strong. Spencer's fingers - which rested on the center of Derek's chest - involuntarily curled to lightly grasp Derek's shirt. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop looking at Derek's lips. Spencer noticed with a jolt that his friend was looking at his lips in the same way.

A sharp inhale of breath sounded from Spencer when Derek reached down to brush hair out of his face, the man's fingertips lightly brushing the soft skin on his cheek. Instead of taking his hand back, Derek used it to cup Spencer's cheek, thumb stroking it ever so slightly. Spencer leaned into the touch. He instinctively repositioned his body so he was laying on his stomach next to his friend, face turned towards Derek's. The intimacy of their position was oddly calming to Spencer.

As the two were gazing into each other's eyes, a loud ringing filled the room, echoing off the empty walls. Spencer jumped backwards as Derek pulled his hand away. The noise had startled them both back to reality.

Spencer groaned and fell backwards against the bed. The last thing he wanted to hear was the alarm. He could tell that Derek felt similarly by the way the man grumbled. Before Spencer could climb out of bed, he felt arms wrap around his torso. Derek pulled him back in, close enough for him to bury his face in Spencer's hair. After initially tensing, Spencer melted into his soft, warm touch.

"I don't want to get up." Derek mumbled into Spencer's curls.

"Me either. I'd rather stay here with you all day." Spencer sighed wistfully at the idea, knowing that with their lifestyles, that would almost never be a possibility.

"Five more minutes?" Derek squeezed tighter, voice hoarse with sleep. Spencer felt a warmth spreading over his body when he heard Derek's morning voice. He couldn't stop himself before he scooted even closer, so close that one of his legs slid between Derek's and his chest was pressed on the side of his friend's own. Something akin to a strangled gasp - or maybe moan, Spencer wondered - came from Derek.

"Please." Spencer breathed, a tingling sensation washing over him when he realized how much of his body was in contact with Derek's. Usually Spencer would stay on schedule, but he couldn't help to want more time with his friend.

Spencer laid his head down again, this time resting on Derek's shoulder. He pressed his face in the side of Derek's neck. Upon nuzzling it, Spencer felt Derek exhale and lean so his cheek was pressed to Spencer's forehead. Spencer had never been in such an intimate position before. The only thing he could think about was how much he enjoyed it, how calm and happy it made him.

Much to Spencer's dismay, the shrill screech of the alarm infiltrated the room again. He huffed against Derek's neck, eliciting a shiver from the man. Spencer smiled as Derek placed a soft kiss to his forehead. He had no idea what was happening or what they were doing, but he would worry about that later. For now, he opted to relish in the wondrous emotions rushing through him.

"If it gets difficult today, I want you to come to me. There's nothing wrong with taking a break." Derek spoke softly as he ran a hand up and down Spencer's back.

"Okay, I will," Spencer pulled back out of his space on Derek's neck, biting his lip as he prepared himself to attempt honesty, "It's probably not going to be easy. I'll do my best to be truthful with you if it gets too difficult."

"Good, good. I'm proud of you, pretty boy." Derek swept a few strands of stray hair back from Spencer's forehead before sitting up and pulling Spencer up with him.

"We'd better get ready to go quickly. We have to be downstairs soon." Spencer elbowed his friend gently.

"No regrets from me." Derek grinned mischievously at Spencer, who returned the gesture with a nervous smile on blush-tainted cheeks.

~~~~

The team arrived at the station a few minutes early, giving everyone time to set up and go over their notes from the previous day. Emily and Rossi didn't find much at the most recent crime scene when they visited. It only confirmed what they already knew; the death would be ruled a homicide, not a suicide. The wrists had been cut post-mortem and the cause of death was officially labeled poisoning - specifically through the use of cyanide - just like the others.

The main goal of the day was to perform the official interviews on the remaining group members. Spencer had been ordered to stay outside of the rooms and watch behind the glass. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but he would rather watch and take notes than sit at the hotel benched because of a bad attitude. Plus, he didn't mind interpreting body language. It was something he actually quite enjoyed.

The team compared notes for the next hour or so before the teenagers began arriving at the station. First up for interview was Will, the quiet 12 year old boy who had cried at the insensitive comments made by a girl - Clara - at the session Hotch, Derek, and Spencer attended. Spencer silently hoped the boy wouldn't have to be there for long. He had already been traumatized enough.

Emily was sent in to conduct his interview. The hope was for Will to be the least uncomfortable as possible, and Emily was most likely to make him feel safe. The parents were escorted to a separate room to be asked a few simple questions about their child. Morgan and Rossi were in charge of questioning them. That left Spencer with Hotch, observing the interview with Will.

"I doubt he knows anything." Spencer stated, watching as the boy sat anxiously bouncing his leg. His face was painted with grief and fear. Emily was sitting across from him in a relaxed pose. Hotch gave a hum of agreement before voices began crackling through the speakers.

"Hi! You're Will, right?" Emily exclaimed, chipper as ever. Will simply nodded his head, refusing to speak or make any eye contact.

"Okay, well, nice to meet you! My name is Emily, and-"

"Why are police here about my friends killing themselves?" Will rasped, digging his nails into his palms. Spencer winced as he noticed the action.

"Well, we're trying to see if we can prevent it from happening again." Emily responded vaguely. There was no reason to further upset Will by telling him they suspected that his friends were victims of murder.

"Doesn't matter." Will mumbled.

"Why does it not matter, Will?"

"Because they're already gone. Most of us are, they just had the guts to actually do it." Spencer inhaled sharply and ignored the worried glance from Hotch.

"Did you know they were that close to doing it?" Emily inquired.

"We all were. Some of us were on-" Will stopped himself abruptly, eyes flickering towards the door. Everything about his body language told the profilers that he was hiding something.

"Some of you were on what?" Emily leaned forward slightly in an attempt to show dominance in a way that wouldn't scare the boy.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Will, I know it's not nothing," Emily spoke softly, "I need you to tell me so I can help you and your friends, okay?"

"I can't." Will whispered.

"You can, it's okay." Emily pressed.

"You wouldn't get it." He grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Hotch, let me go in there." Spencer turned to his superior.

"Spencer, you know I can't let you do that. It could jeopardize your mental health."

"But I could get through to him! I know what he's trying to say and what he's thinking. Hotch, I can get him to talk because I've been there."

"No. That's my final answer." Hotch demanded. Spencer huffed angrily and turned back to watch the interview. After another five minutes or so of Emily trying unsuccessfully to squeeze information out of Will, Spencer had had enough. Without sparing a second glance at Hotch, he raced out of the viewing room and burst through the door to join Emily and Will, ignoring the calls of protest behind him.

"Hi, Will. My name is Spencer." He breathed, anxiety flowing through his body. He had run into the room without even thinking about what it may make him feel; the only thing he was concerned with was the boy.

"Hi." Will looked up briefly but avoided eye contact.

"Emily, I've got it here." Spencer whispered in his colleague's ear as he sat down in the cold, metal chair beside her. She got up without question, probably assuming Hotch had sent him in.

"Why are you here?" Will asked.

"Well, I think I may be able to relate to you. Understand you on a deeper level than my friend Emily." Spencer smiled faintly.

"Yeah, sure." The kid scoffed and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

"I can. That group session you were in," Spencer took a deep breath, "I've been in them, too."

"Really?" Will looked up, head tilted slightly.

"Really." Spencer knew Emily was listening, but he couldn't help but be honest to the boy in front of him. He would deal with the consequences later.

"That doesn't make sense. You're a good guy, you're supposed to be fine." Will's eyebrows furrowed.

"Nobody is indestructible, Will. We all have a hard time with something. My hard time just so happens to be the same type as yours." Spencer explained.

"Autistic and suicidal? Habit of hurting yourself? There's no way. We're not the same." Will looked away again and exhaled heavily.

"Will, I want you to listen very carefully, okay?" Spencer asked.

"Okay." Will responded, tone dripping with suspicion.

"That is exactly what I am." Will's head shot up, eyes meeting Spencer's intensely.

"What? I- how- I don't believe that. It doesn't make sense. You're lying." The boy grimaced.

"Will, I wouldn't lie to you. I was diagnosed with Autism when I was around your age. I've attempted suicide four times between the ages 9 and 11. I've dealt with self harm on and off since I was a child. I promise, when I say I get you, I mean it." Spencer chewed on the inside of his lip nervously as he watched his words begin to click in Will's head.

"You- you actually understand." Will stated, slightly surprised.

"Yes, I do. You can tell me anything that you're afraid to speak of because you're worried someone won't understand, because I will."

"Well, it's- it's complicated." Will huffed as he leaned back in his seat.

"I can do complicated." Spencer said, calmly reminding him of his safety.

"We all were suicidal, you know? And we talked about it together. One day, Marie told us to meet her afterwards for lunch, so we did. She, um, introduced us to this website." Will stopped, obviously uncomfortable.

"What was the website?" Spencer asked.

"It was called 'Till Death Do Us Part'. Basically, it partnered you up anonymously with another suicidal person so you can make a pact, so you didn't have to do it alone." Will squirmed, obviously not happy to be sharing this information.

"Were your friends a part of this online community?" Spencer leaned forward.

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. All I know is that it exists."

"Are you on this website?" Spencer questioned.

"I checked it out, but I didn't join. Funny enough," Will laughed wryly, "It was only for people of 13 years and up. Guess you can't kill yourself if you're not a teenager."

"So, you weren't a part of the group, didn't see what was going on inside?"

Will hummed in agreement, and Spencer could tell he was being truthful. Given this realization, Spencer decided to cut the interview off. He wasn't going to get any more information from Will.

"Alright, Will. Thank you for talking to me. You did a good thing today," Spencer paused to take a breath before continuing, "Keep yourself safe, okay? Things really do change, you just have to push through the hard parts."

"I'll try. Thank you." Will whispered. While he didn't specify what he was thankful for, Spencer knew. The unspoken understanding sat between the two.

"Spencer, please come and join me in the meeting room." A voice sounded from the doorway and Spencer turned to see an angry Hotch and shell-shocked Emily. Spencer nodded and wordlessly followed Hotch out of the room, refusing to look at Emily. He was too embarrassed to do so.

~~~~

Spencer wrung his hands nervously as the two men entered the meeting room. He knew the reprimand he had coming was going to be harsh. The only thing he could think about was how much he wished Derek was with him.

"Sit, please." Hotch ordered, body stiff as he took a seat across from the one he motioned for Spencer to take.

"Hotch-" Spencer started to speak but was immediately cut off.

"Reid. You disobeyed direct orders. I understand you thinking you can get something that nobody else can, but that doesn't allow you to take matters into your own hands." Hotch stated sharply.

"I'm really sorry, Hotch. I wasn't thinking." Spencer took a deep breath in, anxiety forming a ball in his throat.

"Quite obviously. I expected better from you." Hotch snapped, his frustration getting harder to contain.

"I know I messed up really bad. I just- I could tell what was going on in his head." Spencer sighed and deflated in his seat.

"Reid, I think you need to step away from this case," Hotch held up a finger before Spencer could protest, "It's simply too personal. I can't let you keep doing something so personal and likely emotionally taxing."

"But, Hotch, I'm a huge asset for this case, I-" Spencer was talking quickly, words tumbling out over his tongue.

"No. Reid, you may be an asset to this case, but this case is a detriment to you. We can handle this case alone; your health is more important than an extra set of hands. Got it?" Hotch began to stand up, but Spencer stayed rooted in his seat.

"Hotch, is there anything I can do to change your mind?" Spencer whispered, defeat laced through his words.

"I'm sorry, Reid, but no. You stay here, I'm going to grab Morgan so he can take you two back to the hotel." Before Spencer could try to bargain any longer, Hotch was out the door. The slam of the heavy door closing made Spencer jump, sending him spiraling.

When Derek walked in a few minutes later, Spencer was on the floor in the corner breathing heavily and hitting his thigh.

"Spencer? It's okay, I talked to him. You can stay here." Derek soothed, sitting down next to him. Spencer raised his head from his hunched position and looked at Derek with wide eyes.

"I can work the case?" Spencer asked hopefully.

"You aren't allowed in the field, or interviews, even behind the glass. You are to stay in this room and work on victimology and other things that can be done on paper." Derek explained. Spencer was disappointed, sure, but it was better than nothing.

"Okay. Alright. You'll have to fill me in on everything happening out there." Spencer said nonchalantly, hoping Derek would forget their agreement with Hotch.

"Not so fast, pretty boy. You know I'm going to be staying with you." Derek smiled. Spencer grumbled angrily and pulled himself up off of the floor, stretching his cramped and tight muscles.

"I understand." Spencer grit out, dropping back into his chair. He picked up a pen and twirled it, still anxious from his previous encounter with Hotch.

"Let's get to work, then." Derek sat down next to him and began leafing through the pages on the table, and Spencer joined him. The work was tedious and the hours passed by quickly, day turning to night. Soon enough, the team was wrapping up for the day and riding back to the place they were staying.

~~~~

It was late again when the team arrived at the hotel. They said quick goodbyes before scattering to their own rooms, eager to sleep after such a long day. The only thing on Spencer's mind was curling up next to Derek and falling asleep in his arms.

"I'm ready to crash." Spencer sighed heavily as Derek pushed open the door to their hotel room.

"Me too. Especially since we decided to share the bed." Derek winked at Spencer as he held the door and let him in before following. They both tossed their bags haphazardly in the entryway, walking straight for their pajama clothes.

"Can I just change here?" Spencer asked, a blush painted on his cheeks.

"Yeah, that's fine with me." Derek replied with a shrug. The two weren't as careful to keep their eyes off of each other this time; Spencer caught Derek looking whenever he risked a glance over himself. For some reason, they just couldn't keep their eyes off of each other.

It didn't take long before they both donned their comfortable clothes, each throwing on sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. Spencer was beginning to feel comfortable having his scars out around Derek now. It was like a breath of fresh air, a relief to feel so comfortable around someone after all the years he spent without trusting anyone.

The two men were folding their work clothes when a loud knock sounded from their door. Spencer jumped, a spike of anxiety twanging in his chest. He looked between the door and Derek with wide eyes.

"Let me cover up before you open the door." Spencer spoke quickly as he reached back into his go-bag. Instead of changing his shirt - he decided that would take too long - he opted to pull a sweatshirt over his head.

"Good?" Derek asked, moving towards the door when Spencer gave him a nod of affirmation. Spencer watched as Derek opened the door, peeking over his shoulder to see who came to visit.

"Hey, Hotch." Spencer mumbled. He retreated back to the bed, plopping down and moving to sit crisscross.

"Can I come in and talk with you both for a minute?" Hotch inquired.

"Of course! What's up?" Derek smiled as he opened the door wider and ushered their boss in. Spencer watched anxiously as Hotch's eyes briefly swept the room before sitting across from Spencer on the perfectly made bed that had once belonged to Derek. Spencer could feel himself getting hot with embarrassment. It was obvious that he and Derek were sharing a bed.

"Should I get you two a room with only one bed next time?" Hotch joked, something they didn't experience very often. Spencer shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Derek.

"Sure. It's not like we're using two anyway." Derek answered as he grinned. Underneath the grin, however, was truth. In the past, it would have bothered Spencer, but he found himself more relieved than anything else. He didn't mind the idea of sharing a bed with Derek whenever they were on a case.

"Alright, I can do that," Hotch's lips twitched upwards slightly before getting down to business, "How are you doing, Spencer?"

"I'm," Spencer stopped himself before the lie of 'fine' shot out of his mouth, "I'm not... not great?" His stuttering compounded with uncertainty told Hotch everything he needed to know.

"Thank you for not lying to me, Spencer. That's a big step. Are you comfortable telling me what is making you feel not great?"

"Um. Well, being there wasn't easy."

"At the hospital?" Derek asked, sitting down softly next to him.

"Yeah. It reminded me a lot of- of-" Spencer struggled to get the thoughts in his mind out.

"Of your mom?" Derek supplied, trying to help. Spencer shook his head. Yes, institutions made him anxious because of the memory of committing his mother, but the hospital they had been earlier that day was specifically for youth. It was more about him than her.

"Of your childhood." Hotch stated.

"Yeah." Spencer sighed.

"Wait. Were you-" Derek didn't even have time to finish before Spencer interrupted.

"I went several times. After some of my attempts." He fidgeted with the sleeves of his sweatshirt anxiously. Before anyone could respond, someone else was knocking on the door. Spencer was grateful for the interruption; he did not want to have the psychiatric ward conversation.

"I'll get it." Spencer sprung up from the bed and opened the door without even checking to see who it was. JJ stood in front of him.

"Hey! Is Hotch here? He's not in his room and I need to talk to him about some media coverage problems we're having." JJ looked behind Spencer and noticed Hotch.

"Yeah, come in." Spencer let her in and shut the door softly behind them.

"Hey, Hotch, can we-" JJ began to speak, but her words tapered off when she moved further into the room, "Are you two sharing a bed?"

"I had a nightmare and didn't want to be alone." Spencer explained briefly.

"Ah. So it definitely has nothing to do with how close you two have gotten lately?" JJ smirked.

"JJ. How about we go speak about the case in my room so these two can get some sleep," Hotch said, standing up from his spot on the second bed, "Morgan, Reid, let me know if either of you need anything. I'm just down the hall." Spencer nodded stiffly, not missing the way Hotch stressed his name in particular.

As soon as the two left, Spencer let out a breath of relief. He all but collapsed on the bed. Derek laughed and followed him down. They were both exhausted from the day and ready to sleep. Spencer was so fatigued, in fact, that he couldn't find the space to hold anxiety over the day, or even to think about it. All he could focus on was curling up with Derek and sleeping. Spencer threw off his hastily dressed sweatshirt and moved under the covers, motioning for Derek to join him.

"Let's get some sleep, okay? If you need me, you can wake me up. I'll be here no matter what time it is. Don't worry about anything, I absolutely won't be upset if you need me." Derek murmured, pushing back stray hairs from Spencer's face as he pulled him to his chest.

"Thank you, Derek." Spencer sighed and wrapped his arms around the man.

"Anything for you." 

Chapter Text

 Spencer woke up to the sound of his own heavy breathing and the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. While he hadn’t woken up thrashing and screaming, he had experienced a fairly intense nightmare. The events of the previous day had shaken him and crept into his dreams. Instead of looking at the crime scene photos, he had been inside of them. All of the memories of times Spencer slit his wrists played over and over again, agonizing scenes flashing behind his eyes.

The entirety of Spencer’s body was quivering. He was surprised it hadn’t woken Derek up considering he was shaking the whole bed. Breathing quickly, Spencer slid out of bed. Derek’s arms weren’t tightened around him anymore, so it was easy to escape without waking the man.

The intentions of his escape weren’t even formulated in Spencer’s mind yet; all he knew was that he needed to be somewhere - anywhere - else. His body worked on its own, leading him into the bathroom. Spencer shut the door behind him as quietly as he could before sinking to the ground.

The tiles were cold, too cold. Spencer did his best to control his breathing but was failing miserably. His hands were in his hair and tugging before he even realized it. He was slowly losing his grip on reality. That was when the flashback started.

~~~~

Spencer  is vaguely aware that he is tied to a chair and handcuffed, but he is unable to fully comprehend the situation in his post drug-induced sleep. His head pounds relentlessly as he squints open his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath of surprise when he sees Hankel standing in front of him. The only thing he can think is that he hopes Tobias would be the one greeting him.

“Good, you’re awake. It’s time for you to pay for your sins, boy.” Charles growls and Spencer slumps in his chair in defeat. He knows what’s coming. Before he can process anything else, he feels a fist collide with his face.

“I’m not- I’m not a sinner!” He whines, pain radiating from the punch. Charles hits him again and again and again, all while Spencer vehemently denies his need to repent for something.

Eventually, the punches become too much, and Spencer loses himself. He realizes as he is losing consciousness that this is not related to the beatings, no; he is losing consciousness because he’s overdosing. He can feel himself begin to seize before falling backwards in his chair. When Spencer’s back hit the ground, everything went black.

~~~~

Spencer comes out of the flashback in the same spot it began. He was surprised that he didn’t wake Derek, given how loud he usually was when these things occur. Surprised, but grateful.

Bones and muscles popped and stretched as Spencer pulled himself up from the bathroom floor. His head was swimming with need; need for escape. What he really, really wanted was Dilaudid, but he could settle for a razorblade. The only issue - they were on a case. Spencer promised himself a long time ago that he would never allow drugs or self-harm while working a case.

But how else was he supposed to handle his emotions? It was obvious that breathing techniques wouldn’t work and Spencer knew that even Derek wouldn’t be able to help this time.

The last thing Spencer wanted was a relapse, but he didn’t know what else to do. He cringed at the thought. He never liked the word relapse, hated the way it burned his tongue and stabbed at his guts. Spencer hated to admit it, but the reason he disliked the word so much was because he wanted to be able to hurt himself whenever he wanted, without shame, without a word to label it a mistake. Label him a mistake.

Spencer could feel the pressure under his skin intensifying, screaming to be let out. He had a choice to make now, a difficult - but extremely important - one. He could give in, let the pressure out in the best way he knew. Or, instead of destroying himself, Spencer could ask for help. Derek was only one room away and would be happy to help him.

The inability to decide how to handle the situation made Spencer anxious. He was flapping his hands at his sides and chewing on the inside of his cheeks, attempting to ground himself. As he was trying to make a choice, Spencer’s eyes swept the room. They landed on his bathroom bag, the bag that contained all of his personal hygiene necessities.

Spencer didn’t even think as he lunged for the bag, pulling it tight to his chest and rummaging through it hastily. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when his fingers met the handle of his shaving razor. Spencer slowly pulled it out of the bag and held it in his hands, contemplating.

It would be so easy; take it apart, use the blade, put it back. Unsanitary, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Spencer found himself disassembling the razor as if on autopilot. It was an easy thing to do, given the experience he had.

 Moments later he was sitting completely still on the cold tile holding a razorblade between two fingertips. He knew he needed to clean it, but he had no energy to do so. Spencer just sat and stared at the blade.

As much as Spencer wanted to, he couldn’t make himself lower the sharp object to his skin. He was stuck on pause. Typically he would turn off all emotions before engaging in this behavior, but today, he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop thinking about the fear on his friend’s faces when they watched him break down at his apartment, the confusion and hurt on Emily’s face after hearing his conversation with Will, the way Derek’s face would fall if he found out that Spencer was cutting himself when he was right there in the next room. The thought of sending Derek into a guilt spiral was enough to snap Spencer out of his trance.

Spencer threw the razor across the room in anger, it hitting the door with a loud thwack and bouncing to the floor. He couldn’t make himself let go of the blade he was holding even though he was about to be rid of it either way. Spencer took a shallow, nervous breath before calling out for help.

“Derek?” Spencer winced at the croak of his voice. When he received no reply, he raised his voice and called out again. When he heard movement in the next room over, his head fell between his knees. Spencer wasn’t sure if he was relieved to be getting help or scared of the can of worms he had just cracked open.

“Pretty boy?” Derek’s response was hoarse and sleepy, “Where are you?” Spencer didn’t have the energy to respond and instead let out a sob that had been building up in his throat. Footsteps approached the door quickly and were followed by the rattling of the bathroom doorknob.

“Can you open the door, Spence?” Derek asked, worry lacing through his voice.

“Can’t,” Spencer sucked in a shaky breath, “Can’t move.”

“Okay, just give me a minute. I’ve got you.” Derek said. Spencer listened as his friend ran around their room before returning to the bathroom door and beginning to pick the lock. As Derek worked, Spencer felt himself beginning to panic. Even though he trusted Derek to be gentle with him, he couldn’t shake his fear of being yelled at.

As Spencer was lost in thought, Derek finished picking the lock and swung open the door. Spencer lifted his head from between his knees, revealing the red splotches adorning his face. He watched as Derek’s gaze switched from his face to the blade clenched between his fingers.

“Did you - did you use it?” Derek breathed out as he slowly approached Spencer. Spencer shook his head swiftly, a sob escaping his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer whimpered, “I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. I’m so proud of you for calling me. I’m so glad you did.” Spencer felt Derek wrap his fingers around his own. Slowly but surely, Derek managed to soften Spencer’s grasp on the razorblade and slipped it from Spencer’s hand to toss it on the counter.

“But I,” Spencer hiccuped, “I took it apart.” Tears began to slip from his eyes and slide down his cheeks.

“But you didn’t use it. That’s the important thing.” Derek reassured him, reaching out to gently wipe away the tears trailing down his face.

“I guess that’s true,” Spencer sighed heavily, “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m so glad you did. You’re always welcome to wake me up when you need someone.” Derek smiled softly. 

 “Thanks, Derek.” Spencer could feel himself pulling away.

“Anytime, kid,” Derek furrowed his brows and leaned closer to Spencer, “What else is going on in that head? I can tell you want to say something.”

“I just,” Spencer sighed and ran a hand over his face, “I just need to shower but I don’t necessarily trust myself to be alone right now. I mean, I didn’t even really plan to take the razor apart, it just happened. That scares me, Derek. That it just happens against my will. I don’t know what to do anymore.” He buried his face in his hands as he tried to control his breathing. How was he supposed to survive this?

Derek didn’t respond, he simply reached a hand out to run through Spencer’s hair softly. Slowly, Spencer emerged from the hiding place of his hands and met Derek’s eyes.

“There you are.” Derek smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Spencer’s ear. Instead of immediately retracting his hand, Derek let his touch linger over Spencer’s cheek, fingertips brushing against soft skin. Spencer leaned into his touch gratefully. He loved that Derek could make him feel safe and comfortable. He didn’t make all of the problems go away, of course, but he helped nonetheless.

“My insides aren’t on fire anymore.” Spencer exhaled softly.

“That’s- that’s good, I guess?” Derek asked, not quite sure what it meant but happy that Spencer felt better.

“Could I ask a favor?” Spencer asked slowly. He wasn’t sure how he felt about what he was going to be asking of Derek, but he didn’t like the alternative either.

“Of course you can, Spence. Always, remember?” Derek reached out and grabbed his hand.

“I’m, well, not necessarily comfortable being alone with myself right now, but I need to shower. Could you maybe stay in here while I shower? Just so I know I’m not alone and it prevents me from doing anything, well, stupid?” Spencer stumbled over his words, afraid he would scare off his friend with the unorthodox request.

“I’d be honored.” Derek grinned, laughing softly.

“And who ever said chivalry is dead?” Spencer teased back before continuing, “This just in- Derek Morgan actually made a somewhat funny comment for once in his life.” He raised an eyebrow and watched in amusement as Derek floundered, struggling to find a response.

“I didn’t expect that,” Derek laughed, “You’re getting better with jokes!”

“Why thank you, kind sir.” Spencer replied, lowering his voice and implementing a deep southern accent for added effect.

“Alright, pretty boy. Let’s get moving.” Derek huffed as he pulled Spencer to his feet with him. They both exited the bathroom and went to gather their things; Spencer his work clothes and Derek some files to go back over before going in to work later. Spencer went back to the bathroom first and hastily undressed. He noticed the blade and razor missing with a stab of anxiety and guilt but did his best to brush it off. As soon as he hopped behind the shower curtain, he called Derek back.

“Everything good in there, Spencer?” Derek asked as he walked through the door.

“Yep, I’m doing-“ Spencer’s sentence was cut off with a yelp as he turned the water on and a cold spray hit his bare skin.

“Cold?” Derek chuckled.

“Oh, shut up.” Spencer retorted, unsuccessfully attempting to mask his own laughter. He shivered under the cold water as he waited for it to warm up.

“Hey Spence?” Derek asked, drawing Spencer’s attention away from the icy stream stinging his skin.

“Mhm?” Spencer hummed.

“Are you willing to tell me why you broke your razor?” Derek inquired. Spencer’s hand that had been reaching for the shampoo stopped mid-air. He knew the question would come eventually, but he wasn’t excited about it.

“You’ll be mad at me.” Spencer muttered, squeezing shampoo into his hand and bringing it up to lather in his hair.

“I won’t be mad, Spencer. I promise.” Derek murmured encouragingly.

“I woke up from a nightmare and then had a flashback, which is weird because usually they only come in dreams and have been less frequent lately. But I didn’t want to bother you so I didn’t call for you until I realized how far I had slipped. I just kept thinking about how everyone had their own rooms and you’re stuck here on ‘Spencer Duty’ even when I’m not telling you when I need it. It’s not fair to you.” Spencer sighed.

“Oh, pretty boy, I’m not stuck here on ‘Spencer Duty’, I’m here because I care about you and want to help you. I want to be here.” Derek responded sadly.

“I- yeah, okay,” Spencer fumbled to find the right words, “Thank you.”

“Always.” Derek replied. Spencer grinned to himself; no matter how many times he heard Derek say it, he still felt a rush of euphoria at hearing the word. It was their word. The word that reminded Spencer how much Derek truly cared. If he could, Spencer would steal the word and keep it all to themselves, a treasure only they could use, just for one another.

“Anyway, hurry up, Spence. I’ve got to shower too, and I wanted to get to the station a little early today to go through the notes I took yesterday and compare them with the recordings of the other interviews.” Derek said.

 “Will do, Der.” Spencer smirked, knowing it would rub his friend the wrong way. His smirk turned to a grin upon hearing Derek groan - annoyed and embarrassed - on the other side of the curtain. Spencer loved these small exchanges where they teased each other. He reached for the body wash next, and as he cleaned himself, he made a promise to himself; Spencer would not allow himself to be triggered or let his past get in the way of working today. He was to be strictly professional. Whether that would work or not, he didn’t know. But it wouldn’t hurt to try.

~~~~

The two arrived at the station an hour and a half earlier than the rest thanks to Spencer’s early awakening and Derek’s desire to catch up on what they had missed.

“Which one should we watch first?” Derek asked. Spencer watched Derek flip through the CD’s that contained each interview, the name of the person interviewed written sloppily with Sharpie on the plastic encasing each disc. Spencer reached out and stopped Derek from moving to another disc by grabbing his hand, causing a spike of energy to burn his skin.

“This one.” Spencer stated, pointing to the disc labeled ‘Clara Henderson’.

“Clara… this is the girl who snapped at the kid, Will, when we were there, right?” Derek asked, earning an affirmative nod from Spencer. At this, he popped open the case surrounding the disc and pulled it out, placing it in the DVD player connected to the small TV in their designated meeting room.

A few clicks on a remote later, Spencer and Derek watched as Clara popped up on the screen. The first thing Spencer noticed was how nervous she seemed. It was a complete 180 from what they had seen in the group session.

“Hi, Clara. My name is Emily. I’m just here to ask you a few questions, alright?”

“Yeah, okay.” Clara wrung her hands in her lap and avoided eye contact with Emily.

“How well did you know Lindsay, May, Marie, Shane, and Finn?” Emily asked.

“Not super well. I mean, we all went to the same group, but that doesn’t mean we were friends.” Clara answered, seemingly nervous to give any more details.

“Does everyone in the group typically get along or are there frequent conflicts?”

“We all tend to get along just fine. If anything, we understood each other better than most others in our lives.”

“But you weren’t friends?”

“No. Understanding someone’s mental problems doesn’t mean we have much else in common.”

“Were there any type of cliques in the group? People who would stick to specific smaller subsets with a few other members?”

“Yeah, I guess. That’s just how it is, you know? But, I mean, that happens everywhere.”

“Were the members who passed a part of a group of their own?”

“No, not really.”

“Not really?”

“May and Marie were friends who talked outside of group. Finn didn’t really talk to anyone besides occasionally Will. Lindsay and Shane, well, they were… together? I don’t think it was official or anything, but it was obvious that they were something.”

“Did the relationship between Lindsay and Shane cause any problems or changes in the group?”

“No, it didn’t matter. A good few people didn’t even know or pick up on what was happening.”

“Then how did you know?”

“I just did, okay? When you go through abuse, it gets pretty easy to pick up on small things like the way people look at each other. What the hell are you guys even doing here anyways? Why do they need the FBI to investigate five mentally ill kids slitting their wrists?” Clara was becoming aggravated.

“Can you tell me about Till Death Do Us Part?” Emily ignored her questions.

“What- how- how do you know about that?” Clara stuttered, obviously not expecting the question.

“What do you know about it?” Emily pressed.

“It’s a website.”

“What kind of website?”

“A community for people with mental illness.”

“What do you guys do on there?”

“Talk.”

“About what?”

“Our feelings or whatever. Why the fuck do you care?”

“Why do you?”

“Fuck off, FBI bitch. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“I can’t do that. I need you to answer a few more questions before I let you go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Clara, listen to me. This is very important. You are putting yourself in a bad position right now. The angrier you get with me, the more suspicious the agents listening to this will get. So you need to calm down and answer my questions, or it will be very bad for you.”

“The website was for suicide pacts, okay?” Clara spit after a minute of silence.

“Suicide pacts? What do you mean?”

“The website would match you up with someone and you could both kill yourself together so you wouldn’t be doing it alone. You both decide on a method and time. Then, boom, it’s easier to off yourself. Honestly, it’s somewhat brilliant.”

“Are you a part of this website?”

“They partnered me with someone, but I backed out. Was too scared of it. Plus, I was starting to feel better.”

“Do you still have access to the website?”

“No, they kicked me off when I stopped responding to my partner.”

“Do you have any idea who may have created this website?”

“No. It just sort of appeared, none of us had even heard of it before.”

“So the whole group was aware of this site?”

“Yeah.”

“Were any of them on it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Who brought it up first? As in, who told you all about it?”

“Marie did. But she told me that Layla was the one who introduced her to it.”

“Alright. I think that’s all I need from you, Clara. Thank you for speaking with me.”

“Not like I had much of a choice.” Clara snorted.

“No, but you did help. We appreciate it.”

“Whatever.”

The clip cut off right as the two females stood up. Spencer and Derek sat in silence for a few moments before turning to look at each other.

 “That was fascinating.” Spencer breathed, eyes wide.

“I don’t think she has anything to do with it.” Derek replied, brows furrowed as the gears in his brain spun.

“No, definitely not,” Spencer agreed, “But she did give us important information. Do we have a tape for Layla?”

“Yes, it’s right here.” Derek replaced Clara’s CD with Layla’s and pressed play.

“Hello Layla, my name is Agent Hotchner, and I’m going to ask you a few questions about your late friends.”

“’Friends’ isn’t necessarily the terminology I would use.” Layla replied.

“What would you consider them, then?” Hotch asked.

“Just members of the same therapy group.” Layla shrugged.

“Okay, your fellow members. Did you know them well?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just what they were dealing with mentally.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

“Did they know much about you?”

“No, not really. I’m a fairly private person.”

“Why attend the group, then?”

“I had to. My parents were forcing me.”

“Okay. But did the group seem to help?”

“I guess.”

“You seemed to care about Will. Standing up for him was a nice thing to do.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t really care for him, I just don’t like Clara.”

“Why not?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know. I don’t like most people.”

“Why is that?”

“People suck. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Is that why you tried to kill yourself?”

“Excuse me? Fuck you!” Layla pulled her sleeves down over the scar peeking out from underneath.

“But is it?”

“I guess, I don’t know!”

“Tell me about Till Death Do Us Part.”

“You know about that?” Layla asked, surprised.

“Yes, we do. I want to know what you know about it.”

“Not much.”

“But you introduced it to everyone else.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I know a lot about it.”

“Were you on it?”

“I had checked it out, but never joined officially. I just figured I’d show them because I thought it was kinda neat.”

“You thought a website encouraging people to commit suicide was ‘neat’?”

“Yeah. The idea was unique and it was very professional-like. I was impressed.”

“But you never got to see the inner dynamics. How were you impressed?”

“Uh, um, they, um, Lindsay showed me what it looked like after she was paired with someone.” Layla fumbled.

“I see. What led you to finding out about the website in the first place?”

“Some post on Tumblr, I think.”

“Can you show it to us?”

“Uh, no, it was deleted after I saw it.”

“Alright. Well, I have one more question and then I’ll let you go.”

“Okay, lay it on me.” Layla’s confidence seemed to skyrocket, as if she had achieved something by getting through the interview.

“Who in the group created the website?”

“What? I told you, I found it online.” Layla’s confident exterior slipped momentarily.

“We know it was someone in the group, Layla. You need to tell us who.”

“Fine. It was Clara. Clara introduced it to me and then I showed everyone else. She was excited about creating her own website and I thought I would help her by getting more traffic to it.”

“I thought you didn’t like her. Why help her out?”

“At the time, I liked her. Then, after it all happened, she never thanked me. So, I didn’t like her anymore.”

“Alright. That’s all I need from you today. Thank you for your help.” As Hotch spoke, Layla grinned and nodded her head.

“Of course. Anything I can do, sir.” She replied with a sickly-sweet voice.

Spencer looked over at Derek again, this time with a glint of suspicion in his eyes. Derek reflected the look.

“She knows something. Something she isn’t saying.” Derek spoke with certainty.

“Yes, definitely. Plus, did you see the confidence? She seemed almost pleased with herself in some of the things she was saying and getting away with.” Spencer said.

“Narcissistic.” Derek replied, the single word enough to wrap up the entire interaction. Spencer simply hummed in agreement and leaned back in his chair. The interviews showed them so much, much more than they expected. Now, all they had to do was wait for the rest of the team to come in. It was bound to be an eventful day.

~~~~

The rest of the team entered the station together around a half hour after Spencer and Derek watched the recordings of the interviews. They greeted each other briefly before beginning to discuss what they had on the case so far.

“Those interviews sure were something.” Derek spoke after everyone took a seat around the table in the meeting room.

“The first thing I noticed were Layla’s inconsistencies. She made several statements that she later changed, which was very suspicious. I’d like to bring her in again and see if she continues to fumble.” Spencer added. He noticed Emily staring at him, probably trying to catch his attention. Instead of acknowledging her, Spencer pretended she wasn’t there. He had no desire to speak about what she had heard during his interview with Will.

“Morgan, Rossi, you’re going to come with me to meet Layla at her school. We want to catch her off guard so she doesn’t have time to prepare for another conversation. Prentiss, JJ, and Reid, you stay here and tune in to the conversation. Garcia is going to pull security footage live from the school’s principal’s office so you can be involved. I want you to watch and listen for any inconsistencies and write them down. If you think of any questions you think we should ask, send a message to Rossi. We need to work quickly.” Hotch spoke quickly and concisely, orders flying out easily after years of doing so.

Spencer sighed inwardly. Not only would he be separated from Derek, he would be stuck with two women who had different inside information to his private life that they would want to address. Wonderful.

“Hey, I’m only one call away, okay? Take a break if you need it. Nobody’s going to judge you, pretty boy.” Derek leaned in and whispered in Spencer’s ear after observing the momentary flash of distress on his face.

“Yeah, I’m- I’ll be okay.” Spencer let out a heavy sigh and turned to face Derek, only narrowly able to stop himself from reaching out and hugging the man. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain a professional atmosphere when the two were together.

“Alright. Have fun here, yeah?” Derek smiled before turning around and following Hotch and Rossi out the door. Spencer flushed and raised his hand when Derek turned around and waved to him before walking through the main entrance of the station, doors closing behind them and cutting their gazes off. He tried to ignore the disappointment bubbling in his chest and turned back to the rest of his team.

“Okay, Reid, what’s going on with you two?” JJ asked with a smirk.

“What- what do you mean? Who?” Spencer coughed in surprise and did his best to act naive.

“Oh, come on. It’s obvious that there’s something! You two were even sh-“ JJ raised her eyebrows excitedly as she spoke, but Spencer cut her off before she could get any further.

“I explained that yesterday. JJ, there’s nothing going on. He’s only been staying at my house to help me out. He’s my best friend, nothing more.” Spencer glared angrily at her.

“Helping you, huh? I wonder with what!” JJ laughed and smacked Emily on the shoulder. Typically, Emily would have laughed back, but she was too distracted for teasing. JJ picked up on it, asking, “Emily? What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing. Sorry, I’m just distracted. I’m sure there’s a good reason Morgan is sticking close to Reid.” Emily spoke slowly and carefully, trying to meet Spencer’s eyes. He looked away nervously and did his best to avoid her questioning glances.

“What the, and I cannot stress this enough, actual hell is going on here? Everyone is so damn uptight and secretive. I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t know about whatever secret is being kept quiet! Please, just talk to me, guys. I’m feeling very lost here.” JJ exploded, days of anxiety over her friend’s state of being boiling over. Shocked, Spencer opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to find the words to answer her.

“Look, JJ. I wasn’t even supposed to know anything. I just happened to overhear a private conversation. It’s not something for me to explain, I’m sorry.” Emily apologized, guilt painted over her features.

“That’s bullshit, Emily! Everyone else knows, so why am I being kept in the dark?” JJ tossed her hands in the air in anger.

“Rossi and Garcia don’t know.” Spencer mumbled, finally finding his voice.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” JJ snapped. Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer held a hand up to stop her.

“Emily, I’ve got this,” he spoke monotonously, “JJ. There are things about me that most people don’t know. Emily doesn’t even know the half of it,” Spencer ignored the surprised inhale of breath from Emily and continued, “My choice to keep this to myself has nothing to do with you. It’s not something I wanted anyone to be aware of. It just happened to come out. So, I’m sorry you feel like you’re in the dark, but I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Can you at least give me some sort of information? Are you safe, is Morgan safe? I’m really starting to worry here.” JJ pleaded, eyes wide.

“JJ. I don’t know…” Spencer huffed, “It’s not something I want to talk about with you.”

“Anything. Any tiny bit of information to tell me that it’s okay, that I shouldn’t worry.” JJ continued pushing.

“Fuck, JJ, you really can’t drop it, can you? No, it’s not okay. Is that what you wanted to hear? You really want to know what’s going on? I’ll tell you,” Spencer growled and watched with sick pleasure as the two female’s faces dropped at his outburst, “You think you’re entitled to everything, huh? Well, here it is. I hope you’re happy.” Spencer hissed and pushed his sleeves up angrily, exposing the bandages and scars on his skin. Both women gasped and JJ raised a hand to rest over her heart.

“Spence…” JJ began. Before she could continue, Spencer roughly pushed his sleeves back down and grabbed for his messenger bag.

“Don’t.” He hissed. Spencer hurried out of the meeting room and to the bathrooms. Upon a quick investigation to make sure there were no people in the room with him, he locked the main door behind him and slid down the wall across from the sink.

Sitting on the floor of the restroom in Georgia, Spencer dropped his head into his hands. How many more times would he have to lose his sanity in this damned state? As Spencer’s breathing rate increased, he knew what he needed to do. There was only one good solution. He didn’t care if he would later regret it; he would deal with that when the time came. Without a second thought, Spencer reached into his messenger bag and searched for the only thing that could make him feel better; a sharp object.

Chapter Text

 Spencer held two items in his hands; an unused pencil sharpener and his trusty pocketknife that contained a small screwdriver. Refusing to think about his actions, Spencer shakily unscrewed and removed the blades from the sharpener. He thanked his lucky stars to have stashed it away months ago for a time like this. Self-harming on a case wasn’t something he ever expected to be doing, but he wanted to be prepared, just in case.

The sharp piece of metal fell out of the plastic casing and landed in the palm of his hand. As if on autopilot, Spencer dropped the empty sharpener back into his bag and pushed his left sleeve up harshly. He would have to get rid of it later; he couldn’t risk someone finding it. But before he acted, a thought hit him.

Spencer pulled his sleeve back down and instead opted to shimmy out of his pants, rolling them down to his knees and pushing his boxers up to reveal his upper thigh. He hadn’t cut on his legs in a long time, but he knew he needed to do it that way. Otherwise, Derek would easily find out about it. Spencer took several deep breaths before breaking his promise to never hurt himself while working a case.

As soon as the blade slid through his skin, as soon as Spencer saw the white, the blood, it all felt better. They weren’t very deep, but he could breathe again. His head fell back against the wall after five cuts and a small smile slipped onto his face. There was something so utterly entrancing about it, something that left him in a strong state of tranquility.

Spencer knew he needed to take care of his wounds, but he didn’t want to move. The peaceful energy resting in his body would surely disappear as soon as he left the precinct bathroom. He was surprised that JJ and Emily hadn’t followed him. He guessed it was probably a combination of guilt and shock that kept them away. Whatever it was, Spencer was grateful.

That didn’t last long, though. Spencer was pulled out of his thoughts by the shrill ringing of his phone. Sighing, he pulled it out of his pocket. Nerves hit him hard upon seeing the caller ID: Derek Morgan.

“Well, shit.” Spencer whispered as he rubbed his palm across his face. He knew he had to answer, but he really, really didn’t want to. The girls must’ve alerted him of what had happened, Spencer concluded. He reluctantly accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” Spencer cringed at how shaky his voice came out.

“Spencer? Are you okay, are you safe?” Derek was speaking frantically. Background noise filtering from his side of the line faded, “I’m alone now, it’s okay. Talk to me.”

“Hah. Um, I mean, nothing bad happened. I just ended up having to tell Emily and JJ about my- my thing.” Spencer hated saying ‘self-harm’ out loud when referring to himself. It seemed wrong, felt too devastating to tie to himself.

“Pretty boy, Emily told me what happened. You don’t have to downplay it. The snapping - while unprofessional, yes, - was warranted,” Derek took a deep breath, “You didn’t answer my question before, when I asked if you were safe.”

“Wait, Emily called? Was JJ on the phone too?” He asked. Spencer was purposefully ignoring Derek’s questions. The last thing he wanted to do was lie; hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could. For some reason, lying to Derek now felt like an unimaginable crime.

“No, she wasn’t. Emily said she was distraught. But we can discuss that later, alright? I need you to tell me if you’re safe.” Derek’s voice was strained with fear.

“Uh-“ Spencer hesitated and glanced down at his legs and the slits resting on them with a gulp. Before he could even attempt to come up with something to say, Derek cut in.

“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me and don’t you dare do anything.” Shuffling and banging crackled through the phone as Derek gathered his things. When Spencer didn’t reply, Derek asked, “Got it?”

Spencer simply mumbled an almost unintelligible ‘yes’ before putting the phone on speaker and setting it down beside him. He pulled himself up off the ground with a grunt and gathered some paper towels to clean up. The last thing he wanted was to make Derek do it for him again. As he began the process of aftercare, Spencer heard a faint conversation from the other line. It sounded like Derek was trying to quiet it but he was obviously doing a horrid job at it.

“Hotch, I’ve got to go. It’s Spencer.”

“What’s wrong, Morgan? What’s happened?”

“Something with the girls pushing him too hard. He snapped and ran off to the bathroom, and when I asked if he was safe, he refused to answer.”

“Shit. Okay, go check on him. You call me as soon as you can with an update, okay? If it’s bad, take him back to the hotel and keep him there. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

“Got it, Hotch. I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I can.”

“Spencer, are you there? I’m getting in the van now.” Sure enough, the slam of a car door sounded through the phone, loud enough to reverberate and echo through the bathroom.

“Yep.” He clipped shortly.

“What’s going on, Spence? I hear you moving around.”

“Uh. It’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me. I need to know what’s going on so I can help you.” Derek’s voice was becoming progressively more irritated.

“What if I don’t want to talk about it?” Spencer grumbled. Guilt was eating him alive, guilt so strong he felt it would rip him in half.

“You don’t have that privilege right now. Your right to privacy is very slim due to current circumstances and you know that. You either tell me now or I force it out of you when I get there.” Derek huffed.

“You can’t make me.” Spencer knew his behavior was borderline petulant, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Spencer. Please.”

“You’re the one making it harder! I was just fine without you watching me 24/7 and that hasn’t changed! I’m fine.” Spencer growled, frustration mixed with guilt - a deadly concoction - spilling out.

“I am not having this conversation with you right now. I’m almost there, don’t move.” Derek ordered. Spencer groaned at the commanding voice his friend was using.

“I’m an adult, Derek. You do know I could just not let you in anymore?” Spencer challenged, now sounding just as frustrated as his friend.

“In where, Spencer?” Derek questioned angrily.

“Everywhere! In my home, in my personal space, in my fucking head! Being monitored gets old pretty quickly. I could call the police and have you removed from my place if you try to follow me when we get home. There are so many ways I could get you off of my back, so don’t bother me, just leave me alone.” Spencer snapped. Before Derek could reply, Spencer smashed the end call button on his phone.

The bathroom fell into a horribly loud silence. The kind of silence that poured in through his skin, his ears, his eyes. It buzzed and bounced around his head like a basketball, banging loudly and painfully as it slammed into every one of his synapses. The enormity of what had just happened rushed over him. Those red lines, the hateful words, the growing desire to push everyone away boiling over and burning everyone around him. He was a volcano, his words hot lava. Lava destroys everything it touches, right? That seemed to be a perfect analogy for Spencer’s ability to thoroughly ruin everyone who cares about him, anyone who gets too close.

Spencer ran his hands through his hair - a nervous tic - as he pulled his thoughts together. There was no time for wallowing in self-hatred. He needed to get himself together before Derek returned to the station. Luckily, he had managed to clean himself up while on the phone, so now he only needed to bandage and pull his things together.

It took him all of a minute to apply gauze over the semi-deep wounds, skin slit down to the dermis. The others were shallow and therefore done bleeding and only needed a few Band-Aids. Spencer was glad he had all of the items he needed on him, thankful that he had thought ahead. He always thought ahead and was exponentially glad for doing so when it came to the time he needed said preprepared items.

The paper towels Spencer had used to clean himself were on their way down the toilet when banging started at the door. Spencer looked around and quickly assessed the room. After feeling confident that there was no indication of any foul play, he readjusted his pants and prepared to face Derek.

 “Spencer? Spencer, you open this door right now before I break the damn thing down!” Derek’s voice was raised just enough for Spencer to know that the man was angry, but quiet enough for the rest of the station to be unaware of what was happening.

“Yeah, coming.” Spencer cleared his throat and reached out to unlock the door. As soon as the lock clicked open, Derek was pushing through the door. Spencer attempted to leave the room, but Derek wouldn’t let him, sticking an arm out and forcing him back into the room before re-locking the door.

“What did you do?” Derek asked. He sounded defeated, and Spencer could tell by the tension in his body that he was upset.

“Nothing, I swear. I just needed a minute. You know how it is. Arguing, yelling, it just- it just gets to me. I knew if I stayed out there I would have a full-on breakdown.” Spencer wasn’t necessarily lying. Those were true bits of information, just excluding a few minor - no, major - details. But Derek didn’t need to know that.

“Then show me your arms.”

“What the hell? No!” Spencer backed up as he tossed his hands in the air before crossing them over his chest, “Is my word really not enough for you?”

“No, Spencer, it’s not! I took your word once and you had been lying! Either you show me your arms right fucking now or I drag you back to the hotel and keep you there under my watch until it’s time for us to go. You tell me what it’s going to be.” Derek crossed his arms in front of him and glared at Spencer.

“I- Derek, I won’t be doing either of those. This is ridiculous. I’m an adult, I should be allowed to be my own person! I deserve privacy!”

“Would you rather me have sent you to a mental hospital?” Derek snapped. Spencer felt his mouth fall open slightly as Derek continued, “Because you know damn well that they would be doing the exact same thing. They’d probably be sticking to you all the time, no breaks alone whatsoever. This is me being nice, me trying to help you without subjecting you to that! Why can’t you see how lucky you are to even be standing here in a different state, working on a case? If it had been anyone else, you know Hotch would have sent them to a hospital or a therapist and taken them off-duty for a while. You are so lucky and all you do is complain about what you don’t have when it could be so much worse! Honestly, you’re being pretty ungrateful.”

“Um,” Spencer gulped, images of his father flashing through his mind, “I don’t-“ He couldn’t find the words to reply to Derek. How was he supposed to? Spencer shivered and felt himself begin to walk backwards and hit the wall, felt himself slide down it onto the cold, hard floor. Those words… those words were not Derek’s. No, they were his fathers.

~~~~

“You don’t know how fucking lucky you are to be living under a roof, to have food every night, to be comfortable. And you know who did that? I did that. I work my ass off for you and your mother and get this in return?”

“Daddy, I’m sorry, I just wanted some help with my homework-“

“That’s all you ever want! You ask for more and more, nothing is ever good enough for you! You’re an ungrateful brat! Nothing will ever be good enough for you, will it? I’ll never be fucking good enough for you, huh?”

“No, daddy, I love -"

“Don’t fucking dare say you love me. If you loved me, you wouldn’t put me through everything that you do. I bet you’d love it if I just walked right out that door, wouldn’t you?”

“No, no, don’t leave. Daddy, please!”

“Fuck this. Fuck this family, this life, the way I’m treated. Nobody here cares about me, I’m sure you’d rather me leave. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Please, daddy,” Spencer wept, “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking start. This is your fault, anyway. You’re the one who hates me and wants me to be gone. I’m only doing this because of you. This is on you.”

His father angrily swiped his keys off of the kitchen table, walked out of the front door, and slammed it behind him, not bothering to look back. Spencer collapsed in the middle of the room as sobs wracked his little body. He didn’t hate his daddy. He loved his daddy. Wanted his daddy, needed his daddy. But he had messed it all up. Because of him, his daddy was gone, and his mommy was without a husband. He was only eight years old and had somehow managed to single-handedly ruin the entire family. An engine revved outside and gravel crunched under tires, signaling his daddy’s departure.

And so Spencer lay in a ball on the cold tile of the kitchen as he helplessly felt himself being torn to shreds. Felt his heart being ripped from his body, his soul slashed in two. The heavy sobs were shaking his tiny frame so hard he thought he would burst. Spencer had no idea how his body was intact; he truly thought the emotions were going to tear him in half, despite knowing the scientific impossibility of the idea. The cold floor against his arm nipped at him, but he could barely feel it. All he could feel was the agonizing pain of losing his daddy, ruining his mommy’s life, and the overwhelming understanding that he was a horrible person.

But then, then he felt arms around his shoulders. He turned to find his mommy and immediately fell into her embrace. Spencer wept apologies all while his mommy held him and told him that it was okay, everything was okay, it wasn’t his fault. Her hands stroked his hair as he sobbed into her chest. Her arms wrapped around his shaking frame even tighter, and she began calling his name.

~~~~

“Spencer? It’s okay, you’re okay. C’mere.” But the words, the voice wasn’t his mother’s anymore. It was Derek’s. Spencer was curled in his friend's arms while lying on cold tile and his hair was being stroked as he was held in a tight embrace. His senses were coming back to him slowly. Spencer sniffled and squirmed slightly, alerting Derek that he was conscious.

“Hey, pretty boy. You here?” Derek asked gently, arms still wrapped around him.

“Mhm. Sor- Sorry,” Spencer coughed, his throat dry, “How long?”

“Only a few minutes. Can I ask what happened?” Derek reached beside him and grabbed a bottle of water. When Spencer’s hands shook too much to screw the lid off, Derek silently took it from him and twisted it to break the seal before handing it back. Spencer hummed a thanks and took a hungry swig of water before speaking.

“It was just- I got triggered. I was already worked up, so I wasn’t able to catch it before I got stuck in my head.”

“What was the trigger? Was it me yelling at you?” Derek unraveled one of his arms from around Spencer so he could grip the younger’s hand.

“Not so much that you were yelling, more what you were yelling.” Spencer sighed.

“Can I ask what particularly set it off? I just want to be able to prevent it from happening again, you know?” Derek inquired. Spencer appreciated his desire to help, how much he cared, but it also scared him. Derek was so genuine, upbeat, and kind, and Spencer didn’t want to ruin him.

“The part where you called me ungrateful. When you told me I was asking for more instead of being grateful for what I have. That was, um, that kind of conversation is what started the fight that ended with my dad leaving.” Spencer was shivering again, but it wasn’t due to the chill in the air.

“Spencer, I am so, so sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been, for him to leave after a blow-up.”

“Yeah, well, he blamed it all on me.” Spencer snorted a small laugh. Now, he could see how wrong his father was to do that. He knew it wasn’t his fault… right?

“What? Why would he blame you? You were only a kid.”

“I asked for help with homework. Apparently, him providing the basic necessities of a place to live and sustenance are enough, and I shouldn’t have been asking for anything else. He said I was acting like an ungrateful brat. Then he went on about how much I hated him - which wasn’t even true - and told me word for word that I was the reason he was leaving, that it was all my fault. I listened to his truck drive away as I laid on the floor in the kitchen sobbing. Just like that, he was gone.”

“Shit, Spence. I am so sorry. I won’t ever use that word again, okay? You’re safe with me. I hope you know that it wasn’t your fault. You were so young. Any decision he made was purely on him. He was a manipulative bastard that didn’t deserve such an amazing son, not the other way around. You never did anything wrong. He was the adult, the one who was supposed to be emotionally capable of handling his feelings and being able to solve problems. His lack of ability to do that has no, and I repeat, no reflection of who you are.” Spencer started crying again about halfway through Derek’s micro-speech. How had he gotten so lucky with his friends? Finally, finally, he felt as though he was allowed to make mistakes. He was allowed to accept comfort; he could ask for it.

And so, Spencer sat and wept on another cold, hard floor. But this time they were happy tears. He wasn’t losing a person, he was realizing how many were on his side, truly understanding how many friends he had who would support him. Wrapped up in the arms of a person who he could never even begin to express his thankfulness for, he hugged him back tightly and cried into his chest. Spencer finally knew what it felt like to be unconditionally, unequivocally loved.

Chapter Text

Derek led Spencer out of the bathroom and over to their assigned meeting room, Spencer’s head held down the entire time. Typically he would be embarrassed by the red, tear-stained cheeks he was sporting, but he was too tired to care; the whole ordeal had drained an immense amount of energy from him. Spencer virtually collapsed on the floor in the corner of the room. He could feel Emily and JJ’s gaze burning into him, but he refused to look up at them. Instead, Spencer opted to lower his head between his knees.

“I’m taking him back to the hotel. He can’t be here right now.” Derek whispered to the women.

“Is he going to be okay?” JJ’s shaky voice was quiet and scared.

“I don’t know, JJ. I really don’t know. He’s extremely upset.” Derek sighed heavily.

“How long?” Emily breathed.

“What?” Derek’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“How long have you known?”

“Oh. Um, I’ve known since last week. So has Hotch. I called him when I found out about it.”

“And he was allowed back to work?” JJ asked incredulously.

“Yes. Honestly, we were more worried about what he would- well, what he would do to himself if he didn’t have work as a distraction.” Derek confessed.

“Did he- you know? Just now?” Emily whispered.

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t let me check.” Derek sounded borderline distraught, and Spencer couldn’t help but speak up.

“I didn’t.” Spencer croaked. He stood up and stretched his muscles before he walked over to the group and rolled his sleeves up, showing them that there were no fresh cuts. “See?”

“Shit, Spencer. You scared us.” Emily’s body deflated and she reached out to grasp his hands in her own. Spencer flinched slightly but allowed her to conjoin their fingers.

“Sorry.” Spencer looked away, ashamed. He hated doing this to his friends. If only Derek hadn’t found out, if only he wasn’t their burden to handle, if only he wasn’t anyone’s burden to handle… Spencer squeezed his eyes shut harshly to cut off the thought spiral before it hit the deep, dark pit of suicidal ideation.

“It’s okay, Spence. I’m sorry I pushed you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t see this until now.” JJ murmured.

“It’s not your fault. I kept it a secret on purpose. I’m pretty good at masking, keeping all of this out of everyone’s view.” Spencer gently removed his hands from Emily’s grasp, hands shaking nervously. “I’d like to go back to the hotel now, if that’s okay?” He looked up to meet Derek’s eyes. Spencer had previously wanted to continue being involved in the case, but he didn’t think he was capable of doing so at the moment.

“Of course, pretty boy. Let me grab my things and we can head back.” Derek walked over to the table and carefully packed a manila folder full of case information in his bag before tossing the bag over his shoulder and returning to Spencer.

“I’ve got my stuff here.” Spencer pointed at the bag hanging from his right shoulder awkwardly. It hadn’t left his side since he left the bathroom; he felt better having it around. A bit of a comfort item of sorts, Spencer recognized.

“Alright, then. Let’s go, yes?” Derek put a hand on Spencer’s shoulder and squeezed it gently before removing it and turning to address Emily and JJ. “I’ll see you two tomorrow. Call me if you find anything new, I’ll be working on paperwork back at the hotel.”

Upon receiving nods from the women, Derek and Spencer turned to leave. Spencer resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at Emily and JJ. As much as he wanted to say a proper goodbye, Spencer was too out of sorts and upset to bother. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out to Derek. Derek looked confused at first, eyebrows furrowed, before picking up on what Spencer was asking for. The two joined hands as they walked out of the precinct. Spencer didn’t care who saw, all he cared about was the warmth and comfort Derek was providing him.

---

 “Pretty boy, did you hear me?” Spencer was pulled out of his thoughts upon hearing Derek’s voice. His head had been leaning against the glass window in the car as he watched the terrain whizzing by, a conglomeration of greens, blues, and earthy tones.

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention.” Spencer responded sheepishly.

“That’s fine, no worries. I was just asking what you wanted to do when we get back to the hotel. We could get some food, or talk, or you could sleep. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were extremely tired.” Derek spoke slowly, unsure if Spencer was fully aware of his surroundings.

“Oh. Um, I’m not sure. Probably sleep? Panic attacks like that take it out of me.” Spencer sighed and turned to look out the window of the vehicle, surprised to see the hotel coming into view. Hadn’t they just left? Spencer’s sense of time was becoming more and more warped, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Alright then, sounds good. Let’s head up, yeah?” Derek asked as he undid his seatbelt and opened his door. Spencer simply nodded and followed suit, sliding out of his seat and closing the van door behind him with a soft push.

Wordlessly, the two entered the hotel and rode the elevator up to their floor. At some point during the ride, Spencer reached over and gripped Derek’s hand again, feeling somewhat childish in his desire for physical contact, but not enough so to release his grip as they arrived at their floor and walked to the room. He stood awkwardly beside Derek as the man used their alloted key to unlock the door to their room.

“Come on, Spencer. Let’s get you into some comfier clothes.” Derek gave him a sad smile. Spencer knew he was trying to help in his current state of weariness, but the idea of Derek helping him change sent shock-waves of anxiety through his body.

“Oh, um, I can do that myself. I’m okay.” Spencer’s heart race increased as he watched Derek reach for a clean pair of sweats. While it was unlikely anything on his thigh would show while changing, he wasn’t willing to take any chances.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to set up over here.” Derek’s voice was laced with concern as he laid out paperwork on the unused bed. Spencer felt mildly guilty; he hated hiding things from his friend.

“Alright.” Spencer turned his back to Derek while he changed - there was no way Derek was letting Spencer in the bathroom alone - to give himself the most amount of privacy he could. He did his best to hold back grunts of pain, but some of them escaped anyway.

“You okay, Spence?” Derek asked, standing up as Spencer turned back around.

“Mhm. All good.” Spencer mumbled. He ignored the disbelief in Derek’s eyes and opted to change his button-up to a soft, oversized crew-neck that swallowed his small frame. Upon finishing, Spencer silently crawled into their bed and looked across to Derek, who was watching him closely from his spot at the desk in the room.

“You don’t just have scars on your arms.” Derek spoke with a tensity that made Spencer shiver.

“Good observation.” Spencer muttered sarcastically. He was grossly pleased when Derek’s face twisted slightly in frustration. If Derek was going to be pushy, Spencer was going to annoy him the best he could to get him off of his case.

“I saw your arms. I didn’t see anything else. It doesn’t take a profiler to put two-and-two together; the turning away when changing, the grunting. I’m not stupid, Spencer.”

“Never said you were. But me wanting privacy doesn’t automatically mean I’ve done something to myself. My muscles are sore from my time spent on the floor, so of course I’m going to be grunting.”

“Well, if there’s nothing to hide, show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Your legs.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t see anything on your torso when you changed your shirt, so that means it would be on your legs.”

“There’s nothing on my legs. Please just drop it, Derek.”

“If there’s nothing there, then why won’t you just show me?”

“Maybe I want to hold on to the last shred of privacy and dignity I have? Ever thought of that?”

“Spencer, you know that’s not how it works right now. Privacy is something you lost the right to when you went behind my back and hurt yourself. I’m proud of you for the shower thing, don’t get me wrong, but that doesn’t mean I can just blindly trust you now.”

“Can we please just talk about this later? I’m exhausted, Derek.” Spencer yawned and turned over with his back to Derek before even allowing Derek time to answer.

“I’ll wait, but don’t think you’re getting out of this,” Derek sighed heavily and hesitated before asking, “Do you want me to hold you while you fall asleep?”

“No.” Spencer’s voice was muffled by the comforter pulled up around his shoulders and resting over the lower half of his face. Derek relented from his questioning and Spencer curled up into a ball. He hated this, hated arguing with Derek. The room fell to an uncomfortable and melancholy quietness that lulled Spencer into an restless, nightmare-filled sleep.

---

 “-encer? Come on, wake up, kid.” Spencer opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the harsh lighting of the room. He couldn’t even remember what he was dreaming about, but he knew it must have been bad. Icy terror was still leaving goosebumps up and down his arms, and he was tangled up in the bed sheets.

“Oh. Sorry.” Spencer coughed and noticed how sore his throat was. “Did I- did I scream?”

“No need to be sorry, Spencer. You need to stop apologizing so much,” Derek frowned as he spoke. “You did scream. But it wasn’t super loud, and I woke you up pretty quickly after it started.”

“Okay, I’ll try, I’m sor-“ Spencer cringed and cut himself off before he could finish, eliciting a laugh from Derek.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asked softly. The earlier discourse between the two had vanished, replaced by sympathy.

“I don’t even remember what I dreamed about.” Spencer shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. A faint smile flickered on his face when Derek reached out and pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. “It just feels… it feels bad. I don’t know how else to explain it.” Spencer groaned lowly as he reached up and rubbed at his eyes with his fists.

“I wish I could take it away from you, pretty boy. I hate to see you so upset.” Derek’s lips were turned down, and Spencer wanted to change that. He hated what he did to his friends, the way he hurt them.

“Hey, it’s okay, Derek. I’m okay.” Spencer scooted closer to Derek and leaned into him. He immediately felt arms wrap around his torso. Derek silently maneuvered the two so that they were laying down on the bed, Spencer with his head on Derek’s chest and Derek holding on to him tightly as if he were afraid Spencer would slip away from him. Spencer shivered again, but this time, it had nothing to do with fear. It had to do with the hand resting on his waist, long fingers wrapped around to his lower back.

“Thank you.” Spencer whispered, scared that anything louder would break the calm - almost intimate - atmosphere. He moved his head so he could nuzzle into Derek’s neck and let his hand travel up the man’s chest before laying it atop his heart. Spencer was both scared and exhilarated; this was Derek, and Derek was his best friend, and he didn’t want to ruin that. But deep down, he knew Derek was something more, too. Spencer just didn’t know what that something was.

“Always.” Derek promised, hand tightening ever so slightly against Spencer’s waist. “What are you thinking about, Spence?”

“You.” Spencer spoke without thinking, the word slipping quietly from his tongue. He blamed the slip-up on how tired he was.

“Me, huh? What about me?” Derek chuckled lightly, but they could both feel the intensity surrounding the question. Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Should he tell his friend the truth or continue on like normal? But what was their ‘normal’, anyway? Nothing about their dynamic was normal.

“About how I feel, well, about you.” Spencer breathed, heart pounding in his chest. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by speaking up about his emotions. Derek stilled beneath him, and Spencer could feel his heartbeat pick up.

“How do you feel, pretty boy?” Derek murmured. Spencer tensed as he felt the hand on his waist slide to his lower back, fire burning beneath the fingers that began tracing circles there.

“I’m not good with talking about feelings, but, um, I guess I could try to explain-“ Spencer pulled back from his spot nuzzled in the crook of Derek’s neck so he could look up at the man’s face. On a sudden burst of confidence, Spencer decided what he would do. “You know what? Forget talking. Let me show you how I’m feeling.”

Spencer pushed his body up so he was resting on his arm. He met Derek’s eyes, silently asking for permission. He shivered upon seeing the look in Derek’s eyes; something he could only describe as flaming desire. Slowly, with the utmost caution, Spencer leaned towards his friend and closed his eyes.

 He felt Derek’s lips meet his own with a soft and slow kiss, a kiss overflowing with long-withheld passion and desire. Spencer’s brain short-circuited, and, for once, he wasn’t thinking about anything. The only thing he could focus on was the way his body lit up when Derek touched him. Spencer felt Derek return his grasp to his waist and pull him closer. He can’t help it when a low, breathy noise escaped from the back of his throat. Spencer felt himself flush at this, embarrassed at the reaction. The sound snapped Spencer out of his stupor and he pulled back suddenly.

“Oh, fuck, Derek, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Spencer was panicking. What had he done? He shouldn’t be kissing his friend, especially not a coworker. Spencer scrambled backwards away from Derek, sitting up and shaking out his hands to stem the flow of anxiety assaulting him. He didn’t even notice Derek following him, rising from his spot laying down and scooting towards him. “I’m so sorry. I probably just messed everything up, shit, I’m so stupid. I don't know what I was thinking. I’m so sor-“

Spencer was cut off by the press of Derek’s lips against his own. It hit him then, the immensity of the situation. This wasn’t one-sided. He wasn’t the only one feeling this way; Derek had proven such by initiating a second kiss. And Spencer couldn’t help the way his insides fluttered at being cut off mid-sentence. It was an undeniably attractive move. The anxiety in Spencer’s veins seeped out through his pores and evaporated, leaving only the fiery sensation of desire to fester. It was this desire that drove his next moves.

Derek inhaled sharply when Spencer leaned closer. Spencer smiled into the kiss when Derek wrapped his hands tightly around Spencer’s hips. Derek’s hands were so big - and Spencer’s body so small - that he could almost touch his fingertips together on Spencer’s back. The feeling of Derek’s hands gripping him so possessively made Spencer feel things he had never felt before, feelings deeper and warmer than any he had experience in the past. He had kissed people in the past, sure, but this- this was different.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, Spencer felt Derek grip him tightly and flip him over so his back was resting on the bed. The kiss was broken temporarily, giving the two time to breath and look at one another. Spencer noted the tint to Derek’s lips that was most likely caused by the prolonged kissing. He bit his bottom lip and sighed softly, eyes fluttering shut, when Derek brushed a stray strand of hair off of his forehead before leaving a gentle kiss there. Spencer’s entire body was trembling at the intensity of it all.

Derek’s lowered his body closer to Spencer’s, and the man’s leg pressed against Spencer’s own, directly on top of his new cuts. A sharp inhale and grimace from Spencer made Derek pull back. Immediately, the mood in the room changed. Spencer watched as Derek’s face morphed from sultry, to confused and, finally, to anger.

“You didn’t. You wouldn’t lie to me. Right?” Derek moved off of him and sat up beside Spencer. Spencer didn’t answer, instead opting to cover his face with his hands and sit up slowly with a sigh.

“I couldn’t help it, Derek.” Spencer whispered, words echoing through the painfully quiet room.

“You couldn’t help it? Spencer, I was one phone call away! Fuck, I was literally on the phone with you-“ Derek snapped. The realization of what he had said kicked in. “Did you do it while I was talking to you?” Derek’s voice was small now, more breathy and clipped than before.

“No! No, of course not! I wouldn’t do that.” Spencer snapped back.

“How do I know you aren’t lying to me right now? Spencer, if you keep lying to me, I don’t know if I can trust you with anything you say.” Derek grated.

“Derek, please. I’m not lying.” Spencer pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes as he grappled with the damage he had caused. One minute they were entranced with one another, the connection between them stronger than ever, and the next they were fighting. And it was his fault. Like always.

“Never trust an addict, right? Isn’t that what you said?” Derek hissed and subconsciously clenched his fists in anger. Spencer watched as he climbed off of the bed and walked over to the desk stiffly. “I’m going to call Hotch to come watch you. It’s nine o’clock, so he’s already here at the hotel. I need a minute to calm down.”

“Okay.” Spencer felt his heart cracking. He hated seeing Derek so upset, especially since he caused it. He retreated beneath the covers and curled into a ball in an attempt to comfort himself. Spencer did not want to cry. No, he would not cry, especially with Derek there. He couldn’t make the man feel any worse by having a mental breakdown now. Derek would blame himself, Spencer would apologize, and their friendship would strain even more. Spencer couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey, Hotch. I’ve got a favor to ask.” Derek's anxious voice sounded from the other side of the room.

“What do you need, Morgan?”

“Could you come sit with Reid for a little while? I need to go clear my head.”

“Sure, no problem. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just frazzled, I guess.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll be there in five.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

“No problem.”

Spencer heard the line cut off. He breathed in deeply and opened his mouth to apologize, but nothing came out. Spencer cursed himself inwardly. Now was not the time to go nonverbal.

“You get all that, Spence?” Derek questioned. He had his back turned to Spencer, so there was no way of getting a reply. Spencer watched as he turned around and looked over to him. “Are you nonverbal right now?”

Spencer nodded, ashamed. He hated how these things happened. Hated what his mind did. Hated himself.

“Alright, well, did you hear the phone call?”

Spencer nodded again.

“Are you okay with me leaving for a bit? I know Hotch can be scary sometimes, but he really does care about you.”

Spencer nodded softly. Was he okay with Derek leaving? Sure. Did he want Derek to leave? Absolutely not. They had finally broken down a barrier between them and Spencer wanted to explore what was beyond it. He knew he couldn’t be so dependent on Derek, that it wasn’t healthy, but Spencer couldn’t help it.

“Look, Spencer. I know you aren’t going to like this, but someone needs to look at what you’ve done. Whether that’s me or Hotch is your choice, but we need to make sure you’re alright. I’ve seen what you’re capable of.” Spencer’s stomach dropped as Derek spoke. Even if the injuries weren’t bad, he still didn’t want anyone to see them. Spencer shook his head quickly.

“If you’d rather it be Hotch, lift one finger. If you want me to, lift two.” Derek ignored Spencer’s protest. No matter how hard he tried, Spencer couldn’t get words out of his mouth. So, instead of give Derek an answer, he reached for his phone. Spencer clambered out from under the sheets and began typing on the phone, ignoring the frustrated look on Derek’s face. Once he finished typing, Spencer turned up the phone’s volume and clicked a button to play his message out loud.

“I know how to deal with it on my own. I have for years. They’re not deep so they aren’t worth worrying over.”

“The hell they aren’t! When are you going to get it through your thick skull that it is worth worrying over? Spencer, please, just answer me. One or two, Hotch or me?”

Spencer grimaced, knowing Derek wasn’t about to back down. There was no way he was letting Derek get involved with this right now. So, as much as he didn’t want Hotch involved, Spencer knew he had to choose him. Spencer flipped his middle finger at Derek to signal both his annoyance towards the man and his choice.

“One finger, so Hotch. Correct?” Derek spoke through gritted teeth. Spencer simply nodded in response. Not being able to bare looking at his face for a minute longer, Spencer turned over in bed to face the other direction.

“Spencer, you’ve got to-“ Knocking at the door cut Derek off, to which he sighed and went to look through the peephole.

“Hotch, hey.” Derek sounded exhausted, all of his energy drained from both the case and the emotions raging through his body.

“Hey. Everything okay here?” Hotch asked. Spencer could feel his gaze burning a hole in his back but refused to turn over and greet the man.

“Well, I need your help on something. If you don’t feel comfortable with it, that’s okay, it’s just that Spencer requested the help come from you.” Derek said.

“Sure, what do you need from me?” Hotch asked, concern obvious in his voice.

“Earlier, when the girls upset him, Spencer, um, he cut himself. He’s refusing to let me help because we had a disagreement.” Spencer snorted at that statement from Derek. “I don’t know how bad it is. He said it’s not deep, but I’ve seen what he’s capable of and he already lied to me about it today, so I would feel better making sure he’s being truthful. What I’m trying to ask is if you would check him and help him with wound care if he needs it?”

“Of course I’ll help. They must have really upset him considering his ‘no cutting rule’ on cases.” Hotch sighed heavily. Spencer grimaced when he was reminded of the enormity of his mistake, the fact that he had broken his golden rule. “What’s up with him right now?”

“He’s angry and nonverbal. I don’t know if it will get better when I leave or not. I’m really sorry to ask this of you, Hotch, I wouldn’t if I didn’t need-“ Derek was cut off before he could finish.

“Morgan, it’s really no problem. I care about the kid. I’ll do what I need to to take care of him. You go get a breath of fresh air, it’s nice out tonight. I’ve got Reid, don’t worry.” Hotch reassured Derek. Spencer listened as they said their goodbyes and parted ways. As soon as the door shut, Hotch spoke up.

“Sit up, I’ll be right there with a first aid kit.” Spencer listened as his boss walked into the bathroom and rummaged around. As much as he didn’t want to, Spencer pulled himself into a sitting position. Hotch walked out of the bathroom and smiled when he saw Spencer.

“Hey, Reid. I’m going to need to take a look at your leg, okay?” Hotch spoke soothingly. Reluctantly, Spencer nodded his head and cleared his throat, hoping his words would return.

“I need-“ Spencer coughed and swallowed hard before continuing, “I need to take off my sweats.” His whole face was flushed a deep red. Spencer was starting to wonder if asking for Derek’s help would have been a better idea.

“How about I turn around and let you do that, and while I’m looking the other way, you can cover up anything you need to besides the area I need to see. Would you like me to do that?” Hotch inquired. Spencer nodded nervously and waited for Hotch to turn before shimmying out of his sweatpants. He tossed them on the bed beside him and used the comforter to cover as much of his lower half as he could without obstructing Hotch’s ability to see the cuts.

 “Okay, I’m ready.” Spencer’s voice was hoarse, his throat scratchy. He shifted slightly on the bed to make room for Hotch to sit beside him. Spencer awkwardly held the bottom of his boxers up to reveal the top part of his thigh. He looked away when Hotch sat and leaned in to see, afraid to catch the imminent glimpse of disappointment on his boss’s face. Spencer winced at the painful sensation of the bandages he had hastily applied in the precinct bathroom being removed from his skin.

“Alright, thank you for letting me see. Can I get these properly cleaned and dressed?” Spencer peeked up at Hotch, surprised by how soft and calm his voice was.

“Um, yeah, okay.” Spencer chewed on his lip anxiously as Hotch went about the job.

“You said you’ve never done this on a case before.” Hotch stated factually.

“Yeah. I promise it’s true, I wasn’t lying.” Spencer spoke frantically, anxiously wringing his hands.

“I believe you,” Hotch reassured. “But I don’t quite understand. If you’ve been able to control it for the entire time you’ve been a part of this team, why now?”

“Did Derek not tell you about what happened?” Spencer didn’t notice the hint of a smile flicker on Hotch’s face at the use of his coworker’s first name. He was too focused on what his boss’s hands were doing, too busy flinching when they touched his upper thigh. To say he was uncomfortable would be an understatement.

“He told me. I just don’t understand why this in particular was the breaking point.” He explained.

“It was bad enough for you and Derek to know, but for everyone to? It was too much.” Spencer cringed when one of Hotch’s finger accidentally brushed his inner thigh as he finished placing the bandages on the damaged skin there.

“You doing okay, Reid?” Hotch lifted his eyes up to Spencer’s face and Spencer looked away, face flushed. He hated when he was profiled, and he hated the tone Hotch was using.

“I’m fine. I don’t need your sympathy, okay? I’m still Dr. Spencer Reid, like I always have been. Seeing a different part of me doesn’t change anything.” Spencer hissed. “So, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop acting like I’m going to break. I’m not glass.”

“Reid. Spencer.” Hotch sighed. “I think I have valid reason to worry about you breaking. I mean, I’m currently helping you with cleanup from a self-harm episode. If it were someone else, you know you’d feel the same way.” Spencer stiffened at the softness in Hotch’s tone.

“Why won’t you guys just leave me alone?” Instead of yelling, Spencer spoke with a defeated, empty voice. He was so tired of their insistence. And his existence. 

“Because we care about you.” Hotch said as he began to put away the first-aid supplies, having finished the job at hand. “Especially Derek.” Spencer felt Hotch’s gaze on him, trying to catch his eye. He refused to let it happen. Instead, he pulled the fabric of his boxers back over his leg before wrapping the sheets over the entirety of his lower body in a meek attempt at modesty.

“Derek walked out on me. I’m too much. He deserves a better friend.” Spencer wriggled his pants back up beneath the covers and pulled his knees to his chest as he struggled to hold back the tears forming in his eyes.

“Derek really does care about you, and not just as a friend.” Spencer looked up at Hotch when he made the declaration, eyes wide. “It doesn’t take a profiler to recognize the significance in the way you look at one another.”

“Hotch, I don’t- I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” Spencer sputtered, nervous.

“Reid.” The single word from Hotch shut him up. “I know what those looks mean. I know what your trust in him represents. And - thanks to Emily - I also know that you held his hand on the way out of the station today.” A hint of a smile graced Hotch’s face.

“It’s better for both of us to ignore it and let it pass. I’m not good for anyone; I hurt everyone around me. I’m a ticking time bomb filled with traumas capable of destroying everything I come in contact with. Derek deserves better.”

“That is absolutely not true. You may have trauma, yes, but let’s be honest; who doesn’t? All of us have our own internal battles. The things you deal with do not define you. They’ve already taken so much from you, don’t you dare allow them anything else. Especially not your capacity to love.”

Spencer gulped, the words striking his soul painfully. Hotch was right, his traumas had held him back and stolen so much joy from his life. He had a choice to make; let the traumas continue to eat away at him until it kills him or face his demons head-on and take back his life. Spencer finally looked up and met Hotch’s eyes.

“You’re right. I don’t deserve to have had so much stolen from me. And I will not let it take even more, no way in hell.” Spencer breathed in deeply. “I think- I think I need to allow myself to love.”

Spencer watched as Hotch smiled - really smiled. It was a smile that rested not just on his face, but also in his eyes. They gleamed with something akin to gratefulness and pride, glimmered with unshed tears. Spencer gave him a small smile back.

“And if that involves Derek… so be it. It’s about time I do something for myself.” Spencer finished with happy tears in his eyes. As if on cue, the door to the hotel room unlocked and squeaked open, revealing a red-eyed, sad Derek.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Hotch gave Spencer one final smile before exiting the room, leaving the two friends - apprehensive lovers? - alone. Spencer took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was to come.

“I think we need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Spencer took a deep breath and wiped his sweaty, clammy hands on the bed beside him. Derek was right here, he was upset, and he was waiting for an explanation. Spencer hated everything about it.

His confidence waned after Hotch left the room, leaving behind only a small amount of courage. It lingered in the air like cologne; noticeably there and yet not strong enough to have a visceral effect. But Spencer needed to learn how to open up. This was his chance, and if he didn't take it, he may not get another one.

"Hey. Um, so, I had a conversation with Hotch." Spencer cringed internally at the rough start- of course he had a conversation with Hotch, that was obvious. "And he helped me to realize some things." He took a shaky breath in. Even though Spencer was watching Derek's movements and therefore was aware of the man's arm extending hesitantly towards him, he still flinched at the contact of Derek's hand on his knee. Derek didn't retract it when Spencer flinched, and he was grateful that the man understood the knee-jerk reaction as simply that and not something personal.

"Yeah? What did he help you with?" Derek inquired. Spencer was glad to see that the previous anger had waned and been replaced by sad curiosity. While sadness is an awful thing, it's surely better than anger, at least for Spencer.

"IhatehurtingmyselfbutIdon'tknowhowtostopbecauseIneedthisandIalsoneedtobeapersonbutIdon'tknowhowtodothat." Spencer spoke so quickly his words muddled together, forming a string of incoherence. His breath was stuck in his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many explanations to give, but he didn't even know where to start. Derek's face flitted between compassion and concern.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. Can you repeat that a little slower, pretty boy?" Derek's thumb moved back and forth over Spencer's knee, a repetitive motion that helped calm him down enough to speak again.

"I hate it. The self-harm, I mean. But no matter how much I hate my dependence on it, the dependence won't go away. And the real problem is that, on most days, I don't even want to bother with recovering. I've tried before, and it wasn't easy. I felt awful the entire time. The only time I feel mildly stable is when I have that to lean back on. And sometimes... sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me away from the drugs." Spencer's voice cracked and he wrapped his arms around his midsection as he spoke. He had never voiced these feelings and thoughts aloud, and it felt quite disconcerting.

"I'm so sorry, Spencer. I am so sorry." Spencer watched the beginnings of tears forming in Derek's eyes and immediately regretted opening up.

"No, I'm sorry. It was too much, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have put all of that on you. It's too much." Spencer began to panic, anxiety sparking every nerve in his body. He had learned long ago that vulnerability ultimately led to punishment.

"Hey, Spencer, it's okay." Derek scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Spencer's stiff frame. "I'm glad you told me. You opening up to me isn't a burden, okay? I want to hear what you think." That was when the waterworks began.

"You don't think it's a burden for me to tell you how I feel? You care about what I feel instead of being mad about it? You're not going to- to punish me?" Spencer's voice was thick and he tasted salt as tears met his tongue after they trickled down his cheeks and through the creases of his lips. Even though he knew Derek wouldn't lie, he had a hard time wrapping his head around something so foreign to him. He released some of the tension from his body and melted closer to Derek.

"Of course I do, pretty boy. You may have grown up with people who didn't care about your feelings, but that's not how it is anymore. You can always come to me with what you are thinking or experiencing, and I promise I will never be angry with you or impose any sort of punishment." Derek rubbed Spencer's back slowly and softly as Spencer continued crying.

Spencer hated crying, but he couldn't stop. Everything was hitting him all at once. The fact that he had been treated so horribly as a child, that he never even had a childhood, the drug addiction stemming from his abduction, that his life had been full of tragedy and trauma, that he couldn't let anyone in, and - arguably most important - that he was addicted to cutting himself. How had he let it get so far?

"I'm- I've ruined myself." Spencer wept. The realizations were all too much. "I'm ruined."

"Oh, Spence, you aren't ruined. You've had hardship, but you're the strongest person I know. You can beat this, I know it." Derek murmured soothingly.

"What if I can't? Because, to be honest, I don't think I can. It's just easier to let it eat away at me instead of trying to destroy it."

"Wouldn't it be easier in the long run to use the energy you have left to destroy it now and save yourself from later suffering?"

"I don't know. Sometimes," Spencer chokes out a sob, "Sometimes I think I'm too far gone. That I can't be saved."

"Nobody is ever too far gone, pretty boy."

"You're wrong. There's too much darkness inside of me; no amount of light is going to make it all go away. It's too expansive, too consuming." Spencer sniffled and used the back of his hand to wipe the moisture covering his cheeks. "Emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, drug addiction, self-harm addiction, abducted and held captive, drugged against my will... should I keep going?" Spencer's breathing began to hasten as he spoke. Just saying all of it aloud made him sick to the stomach.

"No, Spencer. Stop. You're working yourself up again." Derek rubbed his back soothingly as he murmured. "I can't imagine how you feel or what you've been through. I won't sit here and tell you that it's fine, that you're okay. You've had so, so much trauma that just builds and builds. Of course you're going to feel like you're unable to heal." Derek shifted so Spencer's head was leaned up, their eyes meeting. "But that doesn't mean it's true. It'll be hard. So damn hard. But if anyone can do it, it's you. You deserve a better life than this, Spencer."

"That's what Hotch said." Spencer laughed wetly and turned himself so he could bury his face into Derek's chest. He wrapped his arms around his friend so that they were fully entwined.

"Hotch is a smart man." The smile was evident in Derek's words.

"Yeah. He really is." Spencer affirmed. "Speaking of Hotch... this isn't really what I meant to talk about. Not all of it, at least." "What else did you want to talk about, pretty boy?" Derek asked. Spencer pulled back and out of the hug so they were sitting across from each other before he began speaking.

 “You know just as well as I do that severely abused children grow up to be closed-off adults. We’ve seen it plenty of times. And, well, I’m that adult. The one who shuts himself off from everyone and everything.” Spencer took a deep breath in and steadied himself for the next part of his speech. “I learned how to turn it all off. That includes emotions. Really all I do is work, sleep, eat, or self-destruct. I’m not normal, I don’t know how to be a person like you. It doesn’t help when you add Autism to the mix.” Spencer laughed wryly.

“What do you think would happen if you tried to do something other than your four usual habits?” Derek asked.

“I don’t know. Anxiety, probably. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You know, being different isn’t always a bad thing.”

“It is when different means unstable and addicted to self-destruction.”

“You got me on that one, pretty boy.” Derek chuckled. “But really, it’s okay to be different. Obviously it’s important to cut out the bad coping mechanisms-“ Spencer broke out into a fit of laughter before Derek could finish.

“You said,” Spencer gasped for breath as he giggled, “You said,” gasp, “cut out!” Spencer fell backwards on the bed as Derek processed what he was saying.

“Oh. Oh. Spencer, I didn’t even think about it.” Derek couldn’t help but fall back and join Spencer in his uncontrollable laughter, the two chuckling at the unfortunately placed phrase.

After a minute, Spencer’s laughter fizzled out and he turned sideways to look at Derek. A goofy smile lit up his face when Derek followed suit and their eyes met. The spark of amusement faded out from Derek’s eyes, and Spencer watched it turn into something undecipherable.

“You said something about being closed off. I think you’ve made some progress on that, at least with me.” Derek said, reaching up to swipe the hair that had fallen over Spencer’s eyes. Spencer sighed; he loved it when Derek did that.

“I guess you’re just easy to open up to.” Spencer replied. Hotch’s words bounced around in his head then. ‘They’ve already taken so much from you, don’t you dare allow them anything else. Especially not your capacity to love.’ Spencer hesitated, unsure of how to put words to his emotions.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable with it. I want you to open up on your terms, not because you feel like you need to.” Derek sensed his nervousness and jumped in.

“No, no, it’s not that. I’m just trying to figure out how to say this.” Spencer gulped and hoped he wasn’t making the wrong decision. “I’m really bad at this, okay? I’ve never done it before and so I don’t know what I’m doing. No amount of research makes this any more comprehensible-“

“Spencer, breath. It’s just me. Say what you need to, it doesn’t matter how it comes out. I won’t judge anything you say, okay?” Derek murmured, eyes locked to Spencer’s. Spencer let out a sigh of relief and gave Derek a small nod.

“I realized I’m really bad about not letting people in and ignoring important emotions. But the more I let you in, the more confusing it gets. Because you make it hard to ignore my feelings.” Spencer bit the inside of his lip nervously, the maintained eye contact making him both uncomfortable and excited. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like you and want to learn how to let myself feel it if you feel the same way too.” The nerves became too much and Spencer looked away, focusing on his fidgeting hands.

“Spencer. Look at me.” Spencer’s breath caught in his throat when Derek reached down and placed a finger below his chin, tilting his head back up to reconnect their gazes. “I would love that.” Derek whispered. Smiles grew on each of their faces, lips pulling wider and wider.

“So… what does this mean?” Spencer asked nervously. “I’ve never done this before. I am way out of my depth here.”

“Well, everyone is different. Some people would jump right in, others would move slowly. I think it would be best for us to explore this slowly, because I don’t want anything to get in the way or take priority over your recovery.” Derek replied.

“Would you still, well, stay with me? As in, at my house, sharing a bed?” Spencer inquired. “You help the nightmares to be less intense.”

“Of course I will, pretty boy. How about we worry about logistics later and get some sleep? We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Hotch told me they have a lead.” Derek grabbed Spencer’s hand and sat up, pulling him up as well. They were so close their thighs were touching. Spencer shivered at the electricity buzzing in his entire body.

“Did he say what the lead was?” Spencer asked, trying to ignore the urge to push Derek back on the bed and kiss him senseless. He wasn’t sure where these urges were coming from. They scared him, if he was being honest. Spencer had never, not once, had a desire to do anything so bold. Until now. Until Derek.

“Nope. All I know is they have one, that’s all he messaged me.” Derek squeezed Spencer’s hand and released it, standing up.

“Wait!” Spencer burst out, stopping Derek in his tracks.

“Hm? Are you okay, Spence?” Confusion painted Derek’s countenance.

“Yes. No. Yes?” Spencer sputtered. “I just- I don’t know.” He deflated slightly, the idea of being too aggressive scaring him.

“Hey, no, none of that. Tell me what you were thinking.” Derek sat back down beside Spencer. Instead of answering him, Spencer looked into the man’s eyes and began to lean closer, eyes fluttering closed as their foreheads rested together. Spencer didn’t know how - maybe some animalistic instinct inside of him took over - but his body knew exactly what to do. Knew how to gently place his lips atop Derek’s, how to reach up and hold the back of Derek’s neck to pull him even closer, how to lean into Derek’s hand as it cupped his cheek.

The kiss didn’t last long, but that didn’t matter. Spencer had always had a soft spot for short and sweet. Plus, he needed to take things slow. In short, Spencer was happy. So damn happy. After separating their lips, they left their foreheads against each other’s for a few minutes, relishing the closeness of their bodies.

“I think we should probably get some sleep.” Spencer breathed, pulling back slowly. Derek hummed in agreement and gripped Spencer’s hand.

“Let’s hurry, yeah? I’m ready to lay with you.” Derek pressed a quick kiss to Spencer’s forehead - causing Spencer to grin - before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Spencer used the time to process what had just happened. How had he been so lucky? In that moment, all other things were forgotten. He didn’t care about the addictions, the depression, nothing. They paled in comparison to the feelings he was experiencing now. It was a sweet, pure bliss.

Spencer was still smiling like an idiot when Derek came back.

~~~

“Good morning Reid, Morgan.” Hotch greeted the two as they entered the meeting room at the precinct.

“Morning.” Spencer smiled, earning a look from Hotch.

“I’m assuming you both made up?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Spencer moved to look at the paperwork sitting on the table in the room. They had arrived early - again - to go over what they had missed the previous day.

“Good.” Hotch’s face softened and the corners of his lips twitched upwards. “You both know I need to be aware if some sort of relationship begins.” He warned sternly, but the hint of a smile didn’t leave his face.

“Of course. We’ll come to you if anything happens.” Derek said, speaking for the both of them. Spencer’s face was flushed. The whole ‘emotions’ thing was still very new to him.

“So, we received new information yesterday.” Hotch informed them, pointing at the board. “Will came back into the station. Apparently, he knew more than he originally shared with us. He went to his parents first and they decided to bring him down. According to him, he was threatened. The threat was anonymous and sent through the website we’ve been investigating. It explicitly stated he would be killed if he told anyone what he knew.”

“So, he came in and told us something even though his life was at stake?” Derek asked incredulously.

“Well, it’s not all that surprising. If the kid is suicidal, he could’ve seen this as his out. A way to die without himself being at blame. It’s actually a common thing for suicidal people, to put themselves in risky situations like that.” Spencer mumbled, understanding lacing his words.

“Yes. Our two major suspects as of now are Layla and Clara.” Hotch stated with certainty. “Garcia tracked down the anonymous user - who happens to be the owner of the site - that sent him the message and gave us a location. Apparently, both girls live in a group home on the outskirts of Atlanta, not too far from the hospital. Now, we just have to figure out which one sent the message. That in itself is a big indicator that they committed the crimes.”

“Makes sense. They both seemed off, as if they either know something or are behind this whole thing. What I don’t get is why.” Derek wondered aloud.

“Well, maybe-“ Spencer started to speak but was cut off by the local detective bursting into their room.

“We’ve got another victim. Young male.” He spoke frantically.

“Detective Beckman, is it Will?” Spencer asked, his heart sinking at the thought.

“Yes.” Beckman sighed. “We should have never let him go home.” He rubbed his temples, obviously distressed.

“You had an officer posted outside of his house, correct?” Hotch inquired.

“Yes. He claims that he saw nothing out of the ordinary the entire time he was there, and he didn’t know anything until the family found the boy this morning. About five minutes ago, his older sister went to wake him up for school, but he was long dead by then.” Beckman wrung his hands as he spoke.

“He was found in his own home?” Hotch asked, surprised. “That doesn’t fit with the other murders.”

“The MO was fairly similar. His wrists were slit, done postmortem. We’ll have to wait for Toxicology to see if there was cyanide in him at the time of death like the others. This time, there were also stab wounds to the torso and defensive wounds to his hands and wrists.”

“Detective Beckman, would you please give us the address so we can examine the crime scene?” Hotch was already packing up his belongings.

“Of course. I’ll write it down for you.” Beckman pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket and scribbled it down. “Here. It’s a rough scene, so be prepared. Although, you guys see this every day, so you guys might not classify it as such.” The detective nodded curtly before heading back to his office.

Morgan, come with me. Reid, you stay here and… go over the paperwork to make sure it’s done correctly.” It was obvious that Hotch was doing his best to make an excuse to keep Spencer out of the field.

“I can go out to the scene. I want to.” Spencer stated firmly. “I’m sick of having to stand on the sidelines. I can handle this.”

“Spencer, you just had an incident yesterday. That doesn’t scream ‘I can handle this’ to me.” Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern.

“You could use me out there. The rest of the team isn’t here yet, so I’m your best option. Both of you know how carefully I investigate, and you both know deep down that I would be a huge asset on the scene.” Spencer argued. Derek opened his mouth to reply, but Hotch held up a hand to silence him.

“Reid, you make a good point. You can join us.” Hotch agreed, and Spencer’s face lit up. “Don’t get too excited, though. One sign of distress and you’re gone, got it?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’ve got it, sir.” Spencer resisted the urge to jump up and down in excitement, instead opting to smile at Derek. However, when he met Derek’s eyes, he found anger.

“Hotch. He’s not ready.” Derek’s eyes swept over to Hotch, and he spoke with a voice hard as stone.

“If he says he is, we have to at least give him a chance. We do need him out there.” Hotch replied. “That is my final decision.”

“Alright.” Derek huffed, turning to exit the room. Sending Hotch a concerned look, Spencer followed Derek, and Hotch walked behind them. It was bound to be an uncomfortable ride.

~~~

The drive to the scene was silent, frustration hanging in the air like a cloud, drowning them in shadow. Spencer had opted for the backseat, wanting to escape the pair of eyes watching his every move.

“We’re here.” Hotch’s voice snapped Spencer out of his head. As soon as he looked out of the window, his heart sunk. Will’s parents were waiting on the curb, huddled together with his older sister - Caitlyn, they had been told. Spencer had bonded with Will, something he knew he shouldn’t have done. Emotions get in the way of work; it was time to compartmentalize. The trio of agents approached the grieving family.

“Hello, my name is Agent Hotchner, or Hotch for short. These are Agents Reid and Morgan, although I believe you’ve already met Morgan.”

“Yes, he was one of the agents we spoke with at the police department.” Will’s father confirmed. “I’m guessing you already know this, but I’m Cameron Boyd. This is my wife, Heidi, and my daughter, Caitlyn.”

“Nice to formally meet you. Now, I know this is extremely difficult for you all, and I am very sorry for your loss.” Hotch murmured. “I hate to do this, but I need to ask you all some questions.”

“We understand.” Cameron’s voice cracked. It seemed as though he were using every last dreg of strength he had to stay calm and act as a rock for the family.

“Did he seem off last night after he returned home? More depressed than usual?” Hotch questioned.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. He was quiet and anxious, but that’s his normal.” Heidi croaked. Tears were still streaming down her face. Spencer felt ill.

“Had he spoken of suicide or engaged in any suicidal or self-harming behaviors?” This time, it was Derek who asked.

“We aren’t sure. He is - was - very secretive. If he harmed himself, we have no idea.” Heidi replied, Cameron seemingly unsettled by the question.

“So, do you think that your son may have killed himself? Is there any possibility that would be the case?” Spencer asked softly.

“No! No, he wouldn’t. He promised me.” Will’s sister, Caitlyn, cried. “He promised me he wouldn’t do that.” Her breathing began to pick up, eyes blown wide, and she sunk down to the concrete below them. Spencer, recognizing the signs of an oncoming panic attack, joined her on the ground.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. I want you to breath with me, okay? Just follow my breathing pattern. In… hold it… and out.” Spencer spoke slowly, guiding her through the technique. Caitlyn’s hyperventilation had slowed. She was still breathing faster than normal, but Spencer could tell she was coming down. “Can I touch you?” He asked gently.

“Yes?” The girl answered hesitantly. Spencer reached out and gently wrapped his hands around her own. He led them to the ground below her.

“Do you feel that?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s the concrete. The street we’re currently sitting on.” Spencer said, continuing after Caitlyn gave him a nod of understanding. “You’re here. You’re safe. That concrete right there, the gritty and warm feeling on your hands, proves that. Come back here, okay? Focus on that instead of your thoughts.”

“Okay.” Caitlyn breathed, closing her eyes. After a few moments, she reopened her eyes. “Thank you.” It was only a whisper, but Spencer heard it.

“Of course.” Spencer replied. “Do you feel a little better now?”

“Yeah. I’m still really anxious, but I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore.” Caitlyn stopped, biting her lip to stop the goofy smile creeping on her face. “Oops. That was bad timing.”

“Do you want to stay down here or stand up? Don’t feel obligated to stand up, just keep yourself firmly planted and focus on the concrete until you feel comfortable getting up.”

“Thank you. So much. You’re a lifesa- you’re a good guy.” Spencer had to contain a laugh at the way she cut herself off again with a smile struggling to adorn her features. He could tell she had a good sense of humor.

“Alright. We should probably head inside. We’ll probably need to ask more questions, but we can wait until you guys are more prepared to do so.” Spencer grunted as he stood up, accepting Derek’s helping hand gratefully. As much as he wanted to keep holding it, Spencer let go upon finding his footing.

“Thank you.” Cameron said to Spencer. “Thank you for helping her.” His voice was thick with emotion as he squatted down to Caitlyn’s level.

“No problem at all.” Spencer murmured before turning away. He couldn’t stand looking any longer, knowing it would make him cry.

The group parted from the Boyd family and walked up to the house. They had to duck under multiple layers of police tape, each one bringing a strike of anxiety through Spencer’s heart. As he pulled on his gloves, he squeezed his eyes shut and steeled himself before crossing the threshold and entering the house.

They were immediately met with the forensics team and state detectives. After Hotch conversed with them, asking where Will’s bedroom was, they headed off down a long hallway. Spencer shivered as they walked through it. Family photos decorated the walls, some recent and some from when the children were only toddlers. He had to tear his eyes away before it hit him any harder. Spencer could not have a breakdown, especially not before they even entered the room.

“Reid, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Derek asked hesitantly as they slowed to a stop outside of the bedroom.

“Yes, Morgan. Now stop asking me that.” Spencer huffed, pushing past him to get a good look at the room. His jaw quite literally dropped at the scene, and he heard his fellow agents gasp behind him.

“Damn. They didn’t tell us about that.” 

Chapter Text

 Blood was all over the room; splatters painting the walls, puddles seeping into the carpet, drag marks across the room. But worst of all, there was something written in blood on the wall. Will’s body lay on the floor beside his bed, slumped as though he had tried to climb under it. Smears of blood leading to him started just inside the doorway.

“He was leaving his room when it happened.” Spencer observed, pointing to the trail. “And he managed to fight back - hence the defensive wounds - by stunning the attacker, giving him time to crawl over to the bed.”

“That’s probably why the unsub stabbed him. It was most likely an automatic reaction to being fought against.” Hotch added.

“But guys… what does this mean?” Derek pointed at the wall. A string of letters and numbers glared at them from above the victim’s bed.

“Based on the letter and number placement, it looks like a Bible passage.” Spencer mused, cogs turning in his brain. “It’s coded, but it’s a very simple code. Hints to an unsub with a lower IQ.”

“Well, what does it say?” Derek asked, confused.

“The code reads 1 BNQHMSGHZMR 6 19-20. When deciphered, it says ‘1 Corinthians 6:19-20'.” Spencer explained. “Basically, the unsub replaced every letter with the one before it. Hence C becomes B, O becomes N, R becomes-“

“Alright, we got it, Reid. Do you know what it says?” Hotch interrupted.

“Right, yeah, sorry. I do know. I actually memorized this verse when I was a kid-" Spencer’s face flushed as he realized he was rambling again. “Sorry. It says, ‘Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body’.” He spouted off, face flickering through emotions as he processed what it meant.

“So, the unsub is angry with the victims for destroying their bodies, but comes and kills them in the same manner they claim to be sinful?” Derek huffed. “That’s some backwards logic right there.” Hotch stayed silent, watching pieces click together in Spencer’s brain.

“No, no. It makes sense. We thought it was one of the girls in the group, yes? So, what if one of them feels as though they cannot do anything to themselves and is taking it out on others?” Spencer suggested.

“So, the victims were proxies for the unsub?” Derek questioned, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I agree with Reid. It makes a good bit of sense. That’s the best lead we’ve got. Next course of action, we bring in Clara and Layla. Let’s find out if either are religious and have ever self-injured or attempted suicide. Then we can move on with more questioning.” Hotch stated authoritatively. “Let’s head back to the station, I’ve got jobs for us when we get back. Reid, call Samantha Potts from SunnyDays and ask her if the two girls have mutilated their bodies in any way, either suicide attempt or self-injury. Morgan, catch the team up, they should be arriving at the station fairly soon. I’m going to talk with the local law enforcement to see if there’s anything we’re missing. You two can take the SUV, I’ll ride back with one of the officers here.”

“Can do, Hotch. See you.” Derek lifted a hand to wave and led Spencer out of the house. As soon as his feet hit the grass, his chest began heaving.

“Derek.” Spencer croaked, reaching out to grab his friend’s shoulder for support.

“Oh, Spencer. Okay, come on.” Derek’s eyes widened and he immediately wrapped an arm around Spencer to help him to the vehicle. “Hold it for a little longer, pretty boy. You can let it out when we get in, but the family is right there. Just a little longer.”

“Okay.” Spencer mumbled, doing his best to hold it in. His breathing was erratic, but he wasn’t hyperventilating. Yet. After what felt like years - but was probably only thirty seconds - they reached the SUV. Spencer climbed in frantically and Derek closed the door behind him. He immediately regretted taking the tight, enclosed passenger’s seat over the backseat. The only bit of luck he struck was the privacy the tinted windows supplied him with.

“Hey, pretty boy. Look at me.” Spencer’s head snapped up. When had Derek gotten in? Everything was blurry, and the only thing he could see clearly was Will’s mutilated body.

“C- Can’t.” Spencer wheezed. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled up into himself, knees to his chest. All he could think of was Will; the innocent, sad, and oh-so-young boy. The way he had thanked Spencer for his understanding nature - how similar they were, all the way down to the signs of trauma written on skin.

“Spencer.” Derek’s voice was firmer this time, causing Spencer’s eyes to shoot open. “I need you to breath with me.”

“He- Will-“ Spencer gasped.

“I know. I know, Spence. It’s not fair.” Derek sighed.

“No, no. It’s not- not that.” Spencer could barely get words out between his quick, shallow breaths. “He- he’s- he was me.”

“Hey. No. He wasn’t you. He may have been like you, but he’s not you. You’re okay, you’re safe.” Derek soothed, reaching out and rubbing Spencer’s arm. Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch; instead, he leaned into the touch.

“Why him? Why not- why am I still here?” Spencer sobbed. “We had the same situation. He- He was supposed to grow up and be okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m so sorry.” Spencer was grateful that Derek hadn’t tried to rationalize the why. It would have only stirred the pot more, and he couldn’t have taken it.

The two sat in silence for a very difficult and lengthy five minutes. Derek had leaned over to wrap his arms around Spencer in an attempt to help his breathing return to normal, and Spencer had his head buried in Derek’s shoulder. Thankfulness coursed through his body; Spencer wouldn’t have been able to handle this alone.

“You definitely could have, Spencer. You’re far stronger and more capable than you give yourself credit for.” Derek said, pulling away. Spencer flushed; he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

“You know what really bothers me?” Spencer asked, sniffling.

“What is it, pretty boy?”

“That’s what my arms looked like.”

A heavy silence followed the confession, Derek unsure of what to say. Spencer couldn’t blame him. What were you supposed to say to someone who admits that? Derek’s face was scrunched up, something Spencer mistakenly took for disgust.

“Sorry. I know it’s gross. Definitely not a pretty picture.” Spencer apologized, grimacing.

“No, no, it’s not that.” Derek assured. “I just don’t like thinking about you hurting like that.”

“Yeah, well. It’s a part of me.” He shivered.

“A part of you, yes. But not all of you. Remember that, okay?” Derek pulled back and reached for his seatbelt. “Let’s get back to the station. We’re close, I can feel it.” Spencer was grateful for the change of subject.

 “Me too.” Spencer smiled softly and clicked his seatbelt in. “Let’s do it.”

~~~~

 Spencer and Derek pulled up to the station right after the rest of the team, who were exiting the second SUV. Spencer pulled the visor down to use the mirror and sighed in relief upon finding his face clear, no sign of tears.

“You look fine, Spencer.” Derek glanced over with a smile.

“Just fine? That’s all?” Spencer joked, a smirk on his face.

“You know what I really think.” Derek murmured, voice bordering on seductive. “I find you intoxicating.”

Spencer didn’t answer, flustered even though he had initiated the conversation. He averted his eyes out the window and waved to the rest of the team. He hoped they couldn’t see the cherry-red tint of his cheeks. Emily and Rossi waved back, but JJ pretended she hadn’t seen. Spencer cringed - this was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He let out a heavy breath and shook his hands out as Derek finished parking. Spencer smiled to himself when Derek made no remark, glad to find that his friend was getting used to his odd quirks.

“Ready?” Derek asked. “If you’re not, we can sit here a little longer. I’m sure the team would understand.”

“No, we should go. They don’t need any other reason to think I’m incapable of my job.” Spencer pushed the door open, but before he could exit, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Pretty boy. They definitely don’t think that.” Derek frowned. “You’re the most capable and smart person on this whole team. Nobody doubts you, I promise.”

“JJ does.” Before Derek could answer him, Spencer jumped out of the vehicle and slammed the door behind him. Ignoring the concerned glances from the officers mingling outside the building, he joined the rest of the team, leaving Derek behind.

“Morning, Reid. How are you?” Emily greeted him, smiling.

“I’m fine. No different than usual.” Spencer had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at her. There was something bitter behind her smile, something that felt a lot like pity.

“Good, good.” Emily said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other nervously. JJ was still refusing to look at Spencer, instead studying her shoes.

“Where were you guys?” Rossi inquired, ignoring the obvious tension within the group. “And where’s Hotch?”

“Oh, he’s at the crime scene.” His colleagues gave him a confused look, reminding him of how much they had missed. “We’ll explain once we get inside. There’s a lot that’s happened since you’ve been here.” Spencer explained just as Derek joined them.

“Let’s head inside and fill you all in, yes?” Derek motioned to the door, wasting no time.

They all made their way to the meeting room in a tense silence. The events of the day before had set the team off-balance, weighed down by the new understanding of their youngest member’s struggles. The only one who wasn’t aware of the situation was Rossi. His eyebrows were perpetually furrowed as he attempted to decipher the root of the team’s moodiness.

“Alright guys, we’ve got some bad news.” Derek frowned, shutting the door behind them and motioning for them to sit at the table. “Will was murdered sometime between last night and early this morning.” His statement was followed up with gasps from the women and a frown from Rossi.

“What happened?” Rossi asked, unperturbed. Being on the job for as long as he had rendered him nearly unshakable.

“His sister found him dead on the floor beside his bed when she went to wake him up for school. Wrists were slit, waiting for a tox screen to see if he had any chemicals in his system. But there were some differences.” Spencer replied. “The victim was found with multiple stab wounds to the torso and defensive wounds on his hands and arms. From the way it looks, he spooked the unsub on his way out of his room, hence the hasty and atypical stabbing.”

“So, Hotch is at the scene now?” JJ questioned, finally looking up from the floor and addressing the team.

“Yes. We just got back as you were pulling in. After arriving early to go over details we missed yesterday, Detective Beckman informed us of the homicide. We checked out the scene ourselves.” Derek informed them.

“You let Reid go with you?” Emily seemed shocked, incredulous as to why they would allow him on such a scene.

“Yes. Hotch allowed it, and his decision was final.” Derek’s face twitched as he attempted to hold back any emotion threatening to show. “To be clear, I did not agree with him.”

“Okay, everyone, let’s not do this right now. Everything is fine, I’m fine. My ability to work has not been impaired in any way shape or form.” Spencer hissed, sending Emily a hostile glance.

“Nobody was suggesting that, Spence.” JJ looked at Spencer for the first time that day, eyes swimming with concern and frustration.

“Don’t Spence me.” Spencer snapped, unable to hold back. He wondered briefly how they had gotten here - to the point of becoming incapable of simply looking at one another. “You know damn well that all of you have done that. Several times. So, don’t act like I’m crazy for pointing it out, Jennifer.” JJ’s eyes widened at the outburst; she wasn’t fond of the side of Spencer she was beginning to know.

“Reid, nobody in this team has ever, ever doubted your capabilities. We’re just worried, is all.” JJ breathed. Spencer could tell that he was making her upset, and, for whatever reason, decided that this battle wasn’t worth fighting.

“Well, you don’t need to be. Excuse me while I go do something Hotch assigned me to do.” Spencer muttered, defeated. The rest of the team watched him turn and leave in silence. Just before the door shut behind him, Spencer heard Rossi’s concerned question.

“What in the hell was that?” 

~~~~

 Spencer didn’t know what was being said about him in the room next door, and, quite frankly, didn’t care. His focus was solely on the card in front of him with Samantha’s contact information on it. Spencer punched the numbers into his phone and raised it to his ear. While he waited for an answer, he pushed his personal emotions away; it was time to work, not to wallow.

“Hello, this is Samantha Potts with SunnyDays Support Group! How may I help you?” A cheerful voice rang through the phone’s speakers and Spencer flinched. It was far too high-pitched for his liking.

“Ms. Potts? This is Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you aren’t busy.” The line went silent for a moment.

“Please, call me Sam. So, how can I help you?”

“I’d like to get some information on both Clara and Layla.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, I’d be breaking confidentiality.” Sam sounded hesitant, wary.

“Ma’am, this is an FBI investigation. A very important one, if we’re being particular. We can go the long route and take legal action to get this information, or you could tell me and save us the hassle. What will it be?”

“Okay, alright. What information do you need?”

“I need to know if they have ever self-injured or attempted suicide at any time in the past.” Another pause.

“Clara, yes, to both. Layla, no to attempted suicide; however, there was one instance of attempted self-mutilation while in our inpatient program, but that was it.” Spencer cringed at the terminology used in her sentence but brushed it off.

“Alright. Thank you, Sam. That’s all I need from you.”

“Of course. Have a wonderful day!” Sam’s voice was smoother now, not as hesitant.

Before Spencer could reply, she had ended the call. He stood still with the phone in his hand, simply staring at it. It was a blank stare, one that indicated the process of in-depth thinking. There was something about the conversation that felt off, but he couldn’t quite place what that something was. A knock on the door snapped him out of his head.

“Hey, pretty boy, Hotch is back. He wants to talk to everyone.” Derek had opened the door and was watching Spencer warily, as if saying the wrong thing would make him break. That was the final straw. Spencer vowed to keep his emotions in check for the rest of the case. The less he acted out, the less the team would worry, and he was dying for some sense of normality to return.

“Great, I just got off the phone with Sam. I’d like to discuss it with everyone.” Spencer smiled and tucked the phone away in his pocket. Optimistic surprise radiated from Derek. Spencer hated lying like this, faking a smile, but if that’s what it took to make Derek relax, he would do it every minute of every day.

The duo left the empty office Spencer made the call in and returned to the meeting room. Hotch’s eyes immediately met Spencer’s with an intensity larger than life itself. He forced himself to maintain eye contact, turning his lips upward.

“Hey, Hotch. I just finished with the phone call.” Spencer greeted him before taking a seat with Rossi to his left and an empty chair - which Derek would be taking - to his right.

“Good. I don’t have any more information about the crime scene besides pictures.” Hotch nodded to the board behind him, which was covered with tacked-up images of Will’s slaughter. “Tell us what happened on the call.”

Somehow, Spencer managed to keep his face calm, despite the anxiety overpowering him. It was a battle to keep his body language from giving away any signs of agitation, but he somehow managed to do so well. The pictures had unsettled him greatly, but Spencer knew he had to ignore them.

“I called Samantha Potts from SunnyDays to ask her for information on both Clara and Layla. Clara has a history of both suicide attempts and self-injury, while Layla does not. Her only incidence of self-injury happened during an inpatient stay in their care unit, which was the first and only time she ever attempted to harm herself.” Spencer’s voice was void of any emotion as he recited information gleaned from the call. “So, I’d say we talk to Layla again. Try to get her view on religion and see if we can pull a confession from her by presenting the information we have. However…” Spencer stopped himself, biting his lip.

“However, what?” Hotch asked.

“I have this gut feeling that we’re missing something. I think,” Spencer took a deep breath before speaking again, “I think Samantha Potts should be marked as a potential suspect.” He was met with both blank and confused stares; he couldn’t blame them, it wasn’t something he thought would ever happen either. 

~~~~

 “So, you think that Potts - the head counselor of the support group - is killing the children she’s trying to heal?” Emily seemed extremely skeptical.

“Yes, I think it’s a possibility. After meeting her and watching her interactions with the kids, I was sure that she could be ruled out. Now, I’m not so sure.” Spencer sighed heavily.

“We can’t suspect someone only on a gut feeling, Reid. We need more than that.” Hotch reminded him.

“I know, I know. It’s not just a feeling, though. The way she spoke on the phone was concerning. How anxious she sounded when I asked certain questions, how relieved she was when the call was ending. She hung up on me before I could even reply to her goodbye.” Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking.

“But that doesn’t mean she’s guilty.” Rossi pointed out. “It could mean that she was attached to the kids and gets emotional thinking of them.”

“Yeah.” Spencer sighed again. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

“We can bring her in and ask her some questions, just to be safe. I’d still like Layla to be spoken with as well.” Hotch informed, looking at the team. “Emily, JJ, you two speak with Layla. A female figure may work better than a male. Rossi and I will interview Potts. Reid, I want you to watch Potts’ body language from the viewing room. Morgan, you do the same for Layla. Everyone clear?” Everyone nodded their heads quickly.

“I’ll speak with the local officers and get them down here. You all discuss the case and any thoughts that you have while we wait for them.” Hotch’s gaze raked over each one of the team members, stopping at Spencer. Spencer smiled softly at him. If there was any way to throw Hotch off, it was that. The man was so surprised and confused that his eyebrows furrowed, and he exited without another word.

 “Alright, then. Thoughts?” Rossi inquired, beginning the conversation meant to fill time.

~~~~

“Potts is here. Rossi, Reid, come with me.” Hotch’s voice rang from the doorway, startling them all from their conversation. They had somehow gone from discussing the murders of children to planning their dinner plans for later that night. It had been decided that the team would all go out together for food instead of holing up in their rooms. They all secretly hoped a relaxing night out would release some of the built-up tension between them.

“Coming.” Spencer replied, gathering his bag. He stood up slowly and followed Rossi out of the room. Before he walked through the doorway, Spencer glanced back at Derek and smiled - a silent goodbye between them. It sent a thrill up his spine.

“She’s in room I-3. Reid, you’ll enter the door labeled V-3, the room for Viewing of the Interrogation 3 room.” Hotch led them down a hallway and through another set of doors before stopping in front of an unassuming gray door. “Watch for anything suspicious. We’ll have this recorded, but it’s helpful to have eyes on it now so it doesn’t have to be re-watched for analysis.”

“Will do, Hotch.” Spencer nodded and reached for the door handle to room V-3, but stopped short when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Don’t, for any reason, even think about coming in the room.” Hotch’s gaze was hard. “I won’t be so easy on you if you do it again. Got it?”

“Got it. I won’t go in.” Spencer promised, swallowing hard. It was easy to forget just how scary his superior could be when giving orders. Hotch gave him a single nod before opening the door to the interrogation room. Rossi followed their boss in, sparing a knowing look to Spencer before shutting the door behind them.

Spencer entered the viewing room hastily, not even bothering to sit in the provided chair. He was too amped up, his body nearly quivering with anticipation. This could be it. They were so close to a break in the case, and it could be right in front of them.

“Sam. Hello again.” Hotch extending his hand, shaking the counselor’s. He already had rapport with her and knew using her first name would loosen her up even more. “This is my friend, Agent David Rossi. We’re just here to ask you a few questions, okay?”

“Hi. What do you need?” Spencer watched her rub her hands up and down her thighs - a clear sign of nervousness. “I already talked to Dr. Reid and answered questions with him on the phone.”

“We just want to ask you a few more in person. It’s easier to have a conversation when the person is sitting right in front of you.” Hotch motioned to their current spots - the two agents sitting on one side of the table and her the other.

“That makes sense.” Sam nodded slowly. Spencer noted the way her shoulders seemed to be inching up and the consistent tapping of her foot on the tile below.

“I have a few questions about yourself.” Hotch explained. Spencer watched as fear sparked in Sam’s eyes, a brief but brilliant fire. It did not go unnoticed by Hotch, either. “How many days a week are you at SunnyDays, and for how many hours a day do you stay?”

“I’m there on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from nine to five. If we’re short-staffed, I’ll fill in on the weekends, but only for a few hours at a time.” Sam seemed relieved to be asked such a simple question. The fidgeting subsided slightly, and Spencer could see her rigid body softening somewhat.

“Do you like your job?” Rossi asked.

“Yes, of course. The children that I help are my pride and joy, the thing that I live for.” She answered easily.

“The only thing?” Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in question.

“Mostly, yes. I know what it’s like to be in their place, so I feel fulfilled in helping them. Otherwise, what’s the point of my life and what I’ve experienced?” Sam shrugged.

“When you say you’ve been in their place, what exactly do you mean by that?” Hotch inquired. Spencer was gathering so much information it almost overwhelmed him. He could read her like a book. The tapping, glancing at the door, raising shoulders, and occasional shivers told him everything he needed to know - Sam knew something that she wasn’t sharing.

“I went to SunnyDays when I was younger. I told my parents I was suicidal, and they sent me away, even though I promised them I’d never be willing to go through with it.”

“Why not?”

“Because, in my religion, it’s a sin.” Sam responded nonchalantly. It took a second or two before the gravity of her words hit her, and Spencer watched in glee as she tried - and failed - to backtrack. “But religion doesn’t matter to me anymore. It never really did. I don’t know why it mattered to me at the time. Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal, not at all.”

“You don’t consider yourself to be a part of any religious group, then?” Rossi leaned forward ever-so-slightly.

“Yes. Or, no. Yes, as in you’re correct, no as in I am not a part of a religious group.” She stumbled over her words, obviously struggling. “Why does that even matter?” Sam’s voice switched from paranoid to disgruntled as she moved into defense mode.

“It matters because we are trying to get to know you. We-“ Spencer’s attention was jerked away from the conversation as the door to the viewing room slammed open, revealing an outraged Emily.

“What the hell, Emily? You scared me!” Spencer yelped.

“Is the door to the room locked?” Emily was panting as if she’d just run a 5k.

“What door?” Spencer was thoroughly confused now, unsure of what was happening. Wasn’t she supposed to be interviewing Layla?

“The door to the damn interview room. Is it locked or not?” She hissed. Spencer’s eyes widened, surprised by her intensity. The whole thing was disturbing him greatly.

“I don’t think so, I didn’t see them lock it.” Spencer barely managed to get the words out before Emily was rushing through the door again. Seconds later, she tumbled into the interview room.

“You fucking bitch.” Emily spat, hands on the table, leaning in close to Sam. Rossi and Hotch shared a surprised look while Spencer watched everything unfold with desperate nervousness.

“What?” Sam replied, tone bordering on taunting. This only pushed Emily further over the edge.

“I said, You. Fucking. Bitch.” Emily fumed, slamming a fist down on the table. “How dare you do that to Layla?” Sam’s eyes grew the size of saucers. It was then that both Spencer, Rossi, and Hotch realized the case had more layers than they had ever imagined.

Chapter Text

 “Now, now, Agent. I don’t know what you’re on about. What did I supposedly do to Layla?” Sam asked.

“What did you do? What did you do? You groomed her to help you murder all of those kids!” Emily growled, and Spencer could feel the tension all the way from his spot in the bordering room.

“Prentiss, come step out with me for a minute, okay?” Hotch interrupted. Spencer hoped they would go somewhere that he could hear, his desire for information bubbling up. He moved over to the door of the viewing room and pressed his ear to the crack. A loud bang sounded as the interview room’s door opened and slammed closed behind the two agents, causing Spencer to jump. With a sigh of relief, he heard them stop instead of moving further down the hallway. He could hear them.

“What was that?” Hotch questioned. Spencer could almost see the anger on his superior’s face, having gotten accustomed to his ‘stern lecture’ stare. He felt somewhat bad for Emily. Being on the receiving end of Hotch’s anger was not fun.

“I just finished talking with Layla. I got her to open up to me. Apparently, Sam has been threatening Layla’s life to hold her under submission. She made Layla introduce the group to that suicide pact website and encouraged them to check it out. That woman in there helped an orphaned, sick child and gained her trust only to use her for murder!” Emily was seething by the time she was done speaking, and to be frank, Spencer was as well. They see plenty of horrible cases in their jobs, but this one was turning Spencer’s stomach in ways he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“Okay, I hear you. I’ll let you question her if you take Morgan in with you and you stay calm. No more swearing at suspects, got it?” Hotch sighed. Spencer was surprised with how easy she got off. Before Emily could answer, Hotch’s phone rang.

“Garcia.” Hotch spoke after answering the call.

“Sir. I looked into the two girls and found no history of religious affiliation. Neither seem to have been involved with religion in any way.” Garcia’s voice crackled through the speaker.

“Huh. Well, thank you, Garcia.” Hotch replied, sounding defeated. “Goo-“

“Wait!” Spencer burst through the doors and into the hallway, startling both agents. “Ask her if Samantha has a history with religion.” Hotch’s eyebrows lifted slightly in understanding.

“Garcia, I’ve got another name for you to cross-reference with religious organizations. Samantha Potts, P-o-t-t-s.” Hotch switched the phone to speaker.

“Alright, coming right up in three, two, one… and I’ve got a hit! Your Samantha Potts is a member of Sunrise Baptist Church and leads their community outreach group. Yikes. You really can’t trust anyone anymore, huh?” Spencer immediately perked up at the lead.

“Thanks, Garcia!” Spencer leaned forwards and exclaimed, body buzzing with electricity.

“Boy genius! Hey! I didn’t know you were here!”

“Well, I am! I’ll talk to you later, right now we’ve got a case to work.” Spencer cut the conversation short at a warning glance from Hotch. Now was not the time for friendly chit-chat.

“Okie dokie! You’ve got this, crime fighters! Garcia out.”

As soon as the call ended, everyone flew into action. Spencer returned to the viewing room - this time with Hotch and Rossi - while Emily and Derek went to speak with Samantha. They brought Layla’s statement with them in hopes to pull an answer out of the woman through confrontation. Spencer was standing so close to the glass between the rooms that his breath was fogging it, but his anticipation was too great to make him move. Because of the nervous and excited energy in his body, Spencer was tapping his fingers on his legs. For once in a long time, he wasn’t thinking about himself. Spencer was simply thinking about the suspect in the room before him and the way the interview could go. It was exhilarating. 

 “Hello, Samantha, my name is Agent Morgan, and I hear you’ve already met my friend, Agent Prentiss?” Derek introduced them, effectively beginning the interrogation.

“Yes, I have. If I remember correctly, she called me a bitch. So, why is she here?” Samantha frowned.

“Emily being there could be the catalyst to a confession.” Spencer whispered. He heard Hotch hum in agreement and move forward so he was standing beside Spencer.

“I’m here because I am one of the two agents who spoke with Layla. Agent Morgan over here is the other.” Emily’s voice was clipped, and Spencer could tell she was working hard to keep her temper under control.

“I see. So you’re just going to believe anything she says?” Samantha snorted and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms.

“No, that’s why we’re here. To get your side.” Derek replied. Samantha seemed to ease up after hearing Derek’s words.

“Well, what do you want to know?” She asked.

“Why did you form such a strong bond with Layla?” Emily inquired.

“Oh, I can’t form connections with the group now?”

“That’s not what she’s saying. She’s asking why you grew closer to Layla than the others.” Derek jumped in after watching Emily’s jaw clench.

“I guess I just saw myself in her.” Samantha shrugged.

“In what way?”

“Well, we both ended up in a psychiatric hospital at the same age. Both of us had family problems, similar mental problems, anger issues, all that. I felt bad for her because I’d been there.” Samantha answered.

“Anger issues? Could you expand on that?” Derek’s brows furrowed, and Spencer had to pull his gaze away. He was having a very hard time focusing on the interview with Derek sitting all stoic and untouchable, giving off extremely attractive energy.

“Layla is on her way to being diagnosed with Oppositional Defiant Disorder. As in, it’s not official yet but probably will be within the next few months. I had a similar scenario happen to me, but I never got diagnosed.” Sam sighed. “It’s awful, truly awful.”

“ODD… interesting. That can be a precursor to Antisocial Personality Disorder.” Spencer wondered aloud.

“According to Layla, you were trying to force that diagnosis on her incorrectly. She is convinced that she is dealing with a case of Borderline Personality Disorder and told us other professionals have mentioned it as a possibility. Why go with ODD when BPD seems to be more accurate?” Emily countered, frustration lacing her words.

“In my professional opinion, I saw ODD as the more accurate diagnosis. That’s all I can really say to explain it.” Samantha shrugged again. “And with ODD, you are aware that indicates a good manipulator, correct?”

“Yes, you’re right. But didn’t you say you were almost diagnosed with it? Meaning you would be a good manipulator as well?” Derek leaned forward in his seat.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m a therapist, we don’t do that.”

“Therapists study how the brain works to help apply skills to change the way a person feels. What’s to say you didn’t do this with Layla, but instead of coping skills, you manipulated her by encouraging her to walk the path of psychopathy?” Emily was clenching her fists at her sides so hard her knuckles were white.

“That’s quite an accusation, don’t you think?” Samantha fought to keep a smirk off of her face, but was failing miserably.

“You think this is funny? That your group members are turning up murdered and all of this is funny?” Emily grated.

“No, I don’t. I just don’t understand your desire to pin this on me.”

“We aren’t trying to pin this on you, Samantha. We just need help getting to the bottom of this before another kid ends up dead.” Derek explained.

A buzzing filled the viewing room and Spencer looked over to see Hotch check his phone. After seeing who the caller was, he informed Spencer and Rossi that he would be back and exited into the hallway.

“I wonder what that’s about.” Spencer said quietly.

“Who knows. I’ve been wondering what most of this team has been on about lately.” Rossi replied, eying Spencer.

“What do you mean?” Spencer reached up to rub the back of his neck nervously.

“I can see it in all of you. There’s some kind of tension that I’m not aware of. But I know it’s there. I see the way you all interact, the way you and JJ can’t even look at each other.” Rossi explained. “I’ve been quite confused as to what’s going on.”

“Oh. Well, I got in a fight with JJ. No big deal. The others know about it and that’s why we’ve been so weird lately.” The lie slid out of Spencer easily.

“Is it something you two can work through?” Rossi inquired, forcing eye contact as he spoke.

“I don’t know.” Spencer answered after a beat or two of silence. “I really don’t know.”

“Look, kid. I won’t pry and ask what’s going on with you. And yes, I know there’s something going on. It’s not that hard to notice.” Rossi added upon seeing Spencer’s surprise. “What I will say, though, is that your friendship with JJ is worth trying to save. For the whole time I’ve known you both, I’ve seen how much you care for each other.”

“I’m not so sure she sees me like she used to, though.” Spencer dropped his gaze to the floor.

“I don’t think there’s anything that could make JJ dislike you, Reid. You’re a likable person. I can’t imagine someone not liking you.”

“Funny. There’s been quite a few through the years.” Spencer huffed a short laugh.

“Well, then they’re not thinking clearly.” Rossi stated confidently. “Whatever is going on with you, with you and JJ, I know you have the capability to fix it. You both are strong, smart people with a wonderful capacity for kindness. Whether it works out or not, I’m here if you need to talk, alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Rossi.” Spencer bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from crying. He couldn’t help but wonder if Rossi would be so kind if he knew everything about Spencer, knew that it was all his fault because all he ever does is screw up.

“Samantha. It’s time you tell me what happened.” Hotch’s voice filtered through the speakers, cutting through the men’s conversation. Spencer and Rossi met eyes again, surprised to see the unit chief barging into the interview room.

 “What do you mean?” Samantha asked.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Hotch snapped. “I know who you are. I know that you have a history of violence which you had expunged. This history included assaults on several people.”

“I don’t see how that has to do with me today. I’m a different person than I was in my youth - we all are.” Samantha’s face drained of color.

“I also know that you attend Sunrise Baptist Church and lead their community outreach program. You’ve always been religious, even growing up in a private school that had sermons every day. You must know the bible in and out, huh?”

“Not really, we didn’t have to learn it all.” Samantha mumbled.

“But you did memorize some? And I’m sure you’ve read it all the way through, given that it’s a requirement for graduation from the private high school you attended.”

“Well, yeah, but that was a long time ago.”

“I understand. But that doesn’t change the fact that you read all of it at least once. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to tell you word-for-word how I know you’re guilty, and I’m going to watch as you realize you have no way out of this.” Hotch snarled as the rest of the team watched with quiet shock. “Do you want to know the biggest piece of information I discovered?”

“What is it?” Samantha looked like she was going to be sick.

“Your old psychiatric paperwork claims that the only reason you never attempted suicide was because you believed it to be a sin.”

“So? Plenty of people think that way.”

“Yes, you’re correct. There are a large group of people with the same mindset.” Hotch nodded. “However, we haven’t met anyone else like that around here. Except for you.”

“And why is that so important?” Samantha was nervously fidgeting with the necklace she was wearing.

“We profiled that out unsub would be around your age with a history of violence and mental illness, and a current or former member of religion, along with a few other minor details. You fit our profile perfectly. Layla actually helped us put everything together.”

“What- what do you mean?” Samantha stuttered.

“She informed us that you wanted her to introduce the kids to a website you created - and she was unaware of your hand in making it. This was step one of your plan. For step two, you assigned the website members partners. Except you were their partners under different fake names. Once you set a date to meet up for the final act, you prepared to isolate them and execute a blitz-style attack. Here’s where Layla comes in again. She stays at your home with your phone, making fake calls and messing around in the house so it seems like you’re there. That’s why nobody suspected you in the beginning - your records were clean, and neighbors could confirm your alibi of being at home. You then proceed to slit the wrists of the victim in an act of rage caused by your inability to do so to yourself. If you can’t kill yourself, the second best option is to find a surrogate. My guess would be that you’ve fantasized about slitting your wrists since you were a child and maybe even fantasized about killing someone else as well.” Hotch took a deep breath after his explanation and maintained a hard stare on Samantha.

After a moment of being stared at, Samantha gasped and doubled over. It didn’t take long for sobs to fill the room and echo off the bare walls. She collapsed to the floor and hugged her legs to her body as she shook. Spencer felt himself clamp his hand over his mouth. The scene in front of them was like none they had ever experienced. Even Rossi seemed slightly shaken.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just can’t- I can’t do it. I had to get it out somehow, I couldn’t do it to myself. I had to- to kill them!” Samantha stumbled over her words, painful sobs wracking her frame.

“I’m sorry for your pain, Samantha.” Derek spoke up, voice husky from emotion. “I need to cuff you now, okay?” He rose from his seat and crossed the room, gently pulling her wrists behind her back. Surprisingly, Samantha didn’t fight it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have involved Layla. So young and- and innocent.” She cried. “I’m so sorry for killing them. I just want it to stop, I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“I know, I know.” Derek choked. “You’ll be okay. I need you to stand up now.”

Nodding, Samantha stood up. A vacant look overtook her eyes as she stared at the door. The crying lessened and no more words left her mouth, even after prompts and questions on if she was okay. Derek walked her out of the room in silence. Spencer stepped backwards from the glass, shock still coursing through his veins. As he moved back, his foot caught on a cord crossing the floor.

Spencer yelped, arms pinwheeling slightly. Just before hitting the ground, he felt arms catch him. The first thing he registered was the pain in his arms as a hand wrapped around them to steady him. He winced and sucked in a deep breath, causing the hand to move.

“You alright, kid?” Rossi’s voice registered in Spencer’s brain and he scrambled to right himself.

“Yeah! Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for catching me.” Spencer spoke quickly, nerves racing.

“I didn’t mean ‘are you alright’ about the fall. I was asking because you winced when I grabbed you.” Rossi tried to meet Spencer’s eyes, but he looked away quickly.

“I’m fine. I just- I don’t like touch, is all.” Spencer mumbled. It seemed like a strong enough lie to keep the questions at bay.

“Okay. Sorry about that.” Rossi apologized, but Spencer could see the gleam of suspicion in his eyes. “How about we go meet with the team? I think it’s time we go out for a ‘we found the unsub’ celebration dinner, don’t you?”

“Yes, I think that’s a great idea.” Spencer smiled. He was grateful for the change of subject. Somehow, Rossi always knew when to and when not to push, and Spencer loved that about him.

As they left the viewing room, Spencer was lost in thought. This would definitely affect him later once the adrenaline wore off. There was no doubt in his mind that it would cause a mental breakdown of some sort. But there was a comfort there, a comfort he wasn’t expecting. Spencer knew that when he broke, Derek would be right there to help him through it. With that knowledge, Spencer felt lighter, had more of a bounce in his step. He was going to go enjoy dinner with his team; he wasn’t going to let a case break him when he had a support system right in front of him.

Spencer was ready to try to start living. 

Chapter Text

Spencer wasn’t sure whether or not he was excited for the team dinner. He had no idea if the restaurant they were going to would be loud and he was already drained from the case. There was no telling how intense the sensory input would be.

“You okay?” Derek’s voice cut into his worries. Spencer looked up and met eyes with the man briefly before humming an unconvincing ‘yes’.

“If we weren’t in a vehicle right now, I wouldn’t let you get away with that.” Derek pointed out, sighing as Spencer gazed out his window in silence. Derek continued to talk, but Spencer wasn’t fully there anymore - he had slipped into a different state.

The buildings, trees, and sidewalks all blended together as his eyes blurred. In the back of his mind, Spencer knew he should stop himself from falling farther, should tear his eyes away from the fixed spot they were stuck in. But it wasn’t that easy. Spencer allowed the colors and shapes to blend and morph until they were nothing but abstract blobs of a dull hue. This halfway point between fully dissociating and being connected to reality felt safe, and Spencer wasn’t ready to let go of it yet. If he’s honest, he lived most of his life in a semi-dissociated state. Some days he fought it, while others he allowed himself to succumb. This just happened to be one of the days where the silent in-between was much more appealing than reality. But nothing good ever lasted long.

“Spencer? Hey, you there?” Derek’s voice was loud enough to elicit a head-jerk reaction from Spencer, snapping him out of his stupor.

“Mhm. Sorry.” Spencer mumbled. Looking around, he realized that the vehicle had stopped, and they were in a parking lot. He could see JJ and Emily laughing together as they walked through the doors of the large, busy building in front of them - the restaurant. He felt himself pale slightly. Spencer knew he was in for a hell of a night.

“You okay, pretty boy? If not, we can go back to the hotel. No worries at all.” Spencer inhaled sharply at the offer. Sure, he’d love to take it, but what good would that do? His team would worry, and Derek would miss out on having a fun night. Spencer wasn’t about to take anything else away from Derek.

“I’m all good.” Spencer smiled, but by the look on Derek’s face, the man could tell he was faking it. “I promise, I really am! If I get overwhelmed, I’ll let you know, okay? Let’s just go have some fun.” He reached over and gave Derek’s hand a squeeze, the smile on his face suddenly genuine. Spencer couldn’t not smile when physically connected to Derek.

“Alright. Don’t be afraid to tell me if you need to leave. I won’t be mad at you, not one bit.” Derek squeezed Spencer’s hand back before pulling his away, opting to place it on Spencer’s cheek instead. “You’re amazing, my pretty boy.”

“Says you.” Spencer blushed, feeling suddenly bashful. There was something about Derek that made his walls come down. He realized with a start that Derek was leaning over to him. Before Spencer could even react, Derek left a soft and quick kiss on his forehead. If he wasn’t red before, he definitely was now.

“You ready?” Derek chuckled upon seeing Spencer’s flush, reaching out again and tucking a loose curl behind his ear.

“I love it when you do that.” Spencer exhaled softly, eyes fluttering closed.

“What, mess with your hair?” Derek asked.

“Yeah. It’s calming.” Spencer opened his eyes. “You’re calming.”

 “Well, that’s good. I sure do try to be!” The two chuckled at Derek’s statement. Pulling back to their own sides of the SUV, they opened the doors and hopped out. Even though it was a rough case, Spencer felt rejuvenated, mostly ready to face the sensory nightmare in his near future. Derek stepped up beside him and motioned to the building. Spencer followed Derek over, smiling softly when the man held the door for him.

“Why, thank you.” Spencer grinned despite the immediate accost on his senses. His confidence swindled when they entered the restaurant and the door closed behind them. It was loud - too loud. Spencer could feel his face scrunching up and immediately wiped it clean. He was supposed to be professional tonight, given that they were around the team. Derek must have noticed the momentary hesitation, because he reached over and gave Spencer’s hand another encouraging squeeze before moving to speak with the hostess.

“Your group is right over there. Have a wonderful night!” The hostess smiled brightly and pointed them in the right direction. After she walked off and they headed to the table, Spencer leaned over to speak to Derek.

“Thanks for, you know, doing all the talking. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, pretty boy. I know it can be hard, especially in challenging sensory environments.” Spencer could have cried right then and there. He still wasn’t used to having someone care so deeply about him, enough to learn and understand all of his layers. All Spencer could do was flash Derek a small smile, afraid he would choke up if he spoke.

 “Hey, guys!” Emily raised a hand and waved dramatically. Spencer and Derek shared a look - tonight was bound to be fun. They could feel the enthusiasm seeping from the group. “Come, come! Reid, you’re next to me, and Morgan, you’re across from Reid, next to Rossi.” Spencer silently thanked his lucky stars to not have to sit next to Rossi. He didn’t want to add extra awkwardness to an already uncomfortable evening.

“Hey, everyone. Ordered yet?” Derek settled into his chair and picked up the menu in front of him, flipping through the pages.

“Nope, we were waiting for you two. Choose quickly, please, because we’re starving!” JJ replied with a laugh.

Spencer’s eyes scanned the menu quickly; it didn’t take him long to read it all, given his advanced reading skills. He settled on a choice fairly quickly. A salad sounded perfect and was something he tended to gravitate towards everywhere he went, especially when he couldn’t handle strong sensory input that came with other foods. Spencer looked up from his menu and across to Derek, trying to see if he had decided yet. He was caught off guard when he felt a visceral reaction to seeing Derek deep in thought. There was something about the intense concentration pulling his features that sent a thrill through Spencer.

“You chose already Reid?” Hotch smiled ever so slightly.

“Well, considering how fast I can read, it didn’t take me long to formulate the entire menu in my mind. I then systematically worked through the options I thought I might enjoy, and then sorted through them to make a smaller group to choose from. All I had to do then was determine which one sounded best at the current moment. Basically, process of elimination.” Spencer explained, looking down as he spoke. Silence enveloped the table and Spencer looked up. The team all had expressions varying from impressed, intrigued, and confused.

“That’s a damn good system, kid. I’m impressed. I usually just pick whatever I see first.” Rossi chuckled. The rest of the group chimed in with their agreements, causing Spencer to fluster. Derek noticed his discomfort and attracted their attention elsewhere.

“I just looked at the page and thought, ‘Oh, that sounds delicious’, and decided I’d get it.” Derek grinned when everyone chuckled. Spencer let out a deep breath he had been holding, tension easing. He didn’t like it when all eyes were on him, and he was glad Derek stepped in. To show his appreciation, Spencer nudged Derek’s foot with his own under the table, smiling with gratefulness when the man looked across to him. Derek shot him a cheeky grin before turning back to the others and engaging in a new discussion topic.

A waitress came to take the team’s orders, and Spencer felt anxiety bubbling back to the surface. Despite all of the communication his job required, he found that the skills he used at work never carried over to his life outside of work. He was still just as nervous as ever when confronted with the need to speak to a waitress. Derek must have noticed the tension creeping up his limbs, because Spencer felt a nudge to his shoe. He looked across the table discretely to see Derek’s concern. His friend mouthed ‘you’re okay, I’m right here’ as he left the side of his foot pressed to the side of Spencer’s. Spencer smiled slightly, the physical connection easing some of his nerves.

“Sir, what about you?” The waitress - Anna, her name tag read - asked him.

“Oh, um, I’ll have the- the house salad, please?” Spencer phrased it more as a question. He never felt good about telling people what he needed or wanted, and even telling someone his order was difficult. It was irrational, Spencer knew, but he couldn’t help it.

“Of course!” She smiled and took the menu that Spencer held up and offered to her before turning to speak with Derek.

“And you, sir?” She asked, voice smooth as honey. Spencer watched the subtle shift in body language; the way her chest puffed out ever-so-slightly, the way she leaned closer, the softening of the eyes. She was flirting, and Spencer wasn’t the only one to notice. Emily snorted a laugh beside him.

The waitress maintained her flirty behavior throughout the entire interaction, Derek completely oblivious. Spencer and Emily kept exchanging amused glances. He did his best to curb the sense of jealously that emerged while watching the encounter. He knew he didn’t have anything to worry about - Spencer trusted Derek - but it didn’t feel great. As soon as the waitress walked away, the group burst out into laughter.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Derek asked, thoroughly confused. The only answer he got was another round of hysterical laughter. Spencer couldn’t help it; he let loose, laughter bringing tears to his eyes. “Spencer? What’s going on?” Derek’s desperate tone only heightened Spencer’s amusement. His use of Spencer’s first name didn’t slip by anyone.

“You-“ Spencer gasped between laughs, “You really don’t know?”

“Obviously not!” Derek threw his hands up, trying to meet someone’s eyes. Nobody could even look at him without laughing harder, though.

“Derek, even I saw it.” Spencer deadpanned, forcing his laughter down. Again, the team noticed the first-name basis the two were on.

“Saw what? Spencer, you’ve got to be more specific, m-“ Derek coughed, stopping himself before ‘my’ slipped past his lips, “pretty boy!”

“She was flirting, Derek.” Spencer grinned as he watched the information sink in, as Derek’s face morphed from confused to shocked.

“No- no, she definitely wasn’t!” Derek insisted.

“She absolutely was, trust me.” Emily giggled, sharing a goofy grin with Spencer.

“No, nuh-uh, you guys don’t get to do that. I missed it, so what? It’s not a big deal.” Derek leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in a poor attempt at nonchalance.

“It absolutely is a big deal,” Spencer looked at him pointedly, “if I noticed it and you didn’t.” The rest of the table snickered.

“Okay guys, alright. Everyone calm down. It happened, it’s over. Let’s move on, okay?” The redness on Derek’s cheeks showed just how embarrassed he was.

“What, can’t handle defeat from Mr. Can’t Read Social Cues to Save His Life?” Spencer grinned and kicked Derek’s foot lightly.

“Oh, come on! I’m not jealous! I’m just-“ Derek’s retort was cut short by a visitor.

“Hey, just checking in. Is everyone doing okay over here? Need any refills?” Their waitress had reappeared and was standing suspiciously close to Derek.

“Oh, no, we’re okay. Thank you.” Rossi replied, the only one - other than Hotch - that was capable of speaking without losing it.

“Alright, just let me know if you need anything!” She chirped. Before she walked away, Spencer saw her slip a piece of paper on the table beside Derek’s utensils. Spencer watched as Derek picked it up and read it, his face twisting.

“Ma’am?” Derek turned around and called for the waitress. Emily’s eyes widened and she met eyes with Spencer, a mutual ‘what the fuck is happening’ shared through their gaze.

“Yes?” The waitress walked back with an accomplished smile.

“I won’t be needing this. I’m actually with someone right now.” The team watched in humor as the woman’s face fell briefly. Meanwhile, Spencer felt his heart drop. With someone? Was that what they were, or did he say that for lack of better terms? A million thoughts were swirling in his head.

“Oh, sir, I’m sure I could do better than whoever she is.” The waitress replied warmly, not bothering to care that the entire table was watching the interaction intently. Spencer could feel Emily trying to meet his eyes again, but he was too involved in the scene unfolding in front of him to look away.

“I’m sorry, but there’s absolutely no way you could be better than he is.” Derek grinned smugly, offering the paper with her number on it back to her. Spencer inhaled sharply, shocked that he would admit - in front of the team, for that matter - to a relationship with a man in such a manner. Spencer had never had the guts to do something like that.

“Oh, um, sorry. I didn’t realize you were- well- sorry.” The red-faced waitress stuttered and plucked the paper from Derek’s fingers before walking away swiftly, almost tripping over her heels in the process. Instead of immediate laughter, the group sat in a confused silence. Spencer bit the inside of his lip as he noticed Emily’s gaze shifting between him and Derek in a thoughtful manner.

“You’re gay? I thought you liked women?” JJ spoke up, confusion evident in her voice.

“Actually, I’m bisexual. I do like women, but I like men, too.” Derek smiled. He was taking the whole ordeal surprisingly well, Spencer noted.

“Oh, okay. That makes more sense. Sorry.” JJ apologized, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry if that was intrusive or offensive or anything.”

“No worries, I know it’s pretty surprising. What can I say, the ladies love me!” And just like that, the laughter came back. Spencer smiled as he watched the team engage with one another, grateful he decided to come to dinner with them even though his brain was beginning to go into overdrive. He could handle being there if this was his company.

The food came out not long after, and Spencer couldn’t help but notice the absence of their previous waitress. He grinned and mentioned it to the group. They promptly spiraled into another fit of laughter. Spencer felt Derek nudge his foot again and he smiled. Something about the idea of ‘playing footsie’ with his coworker during a team dinner sounded immature, but he couldn’t help himself. Spencer would take any scrap of physical touch from Derek.

The team started on their food as they continued to laugh, joke, tell stories, and recount old memories. Spencer found a lazy smile forming on his face with pleasure. No matter how hard his day had been, his friends were right next to him, making the night easier. Spencer felt such an immense amount of love for them. And, in this moment, his heart was full.

~~~~

 “Goodnight, everyone!” Spencer smiled and waved as Derek called out to the team. The rest of the team offered up their own ‘goodnight’s before the elevator doors closed, isolating the two. As soon as they were alone, Spencer slumped into Derek’s side.

“You okay?” Derek asked, reaching out and embracing him.

“Tired. Overwhelmed.” Spencer muttered, voice muffled by Derek’s shirt. He wrapped his arms around the man and burrowed deeper into his chest, sighing in pleasure when Derek reached up and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, my pretty boy. We’re almost back to the room. Then you can get some comfortable clothes on, get a fidget, and get in bed. Maybe watch a movie until it gets time for bed. Do you want me to hold you or would you feel better without physical contact?” Derek soothed. A ding sounded and the elevator door slid open right after he finished speaking.

“I’d rather just sleep. And, hold me, please.” Spencer moved back from Derek’s embrace so they could walk to the room, opting to hold his hand instead.

“Oh, are we clingy tonight?” Derek joked.

“Mhm. I’d be clingy all the time if I could.” Spencer smiled and watched as his friend unlocked their room. The two entered quietly. As soon as the door shut behind them, Spencer let his bag drop from his shoulder and hit the floor with a loud thump. Releasing Derek’s hand, he ambled over to his go-bag, fumbling through it before finding his sleep clothes. His entire body felt weak and clumsy.

“Do you need help changing?” Spencer jumped slightly at Derek’s voice. The man was much closer than he expected him to be.

“Oh, um. I should be alright?” Spencer answered. He then reached up and attempted to unbutton his shirt, failing miserably.

“Hey, I’ve got it.” Derek murmured, gently replacing Spencer’s fingers with his own. Exhausted, Spencer allowed him to. “Arms out, Spence.” Derek said after finishing with the buttons.

“I feel like I should be embarrassed with you undressing me like a child, but I’m too tired to bother.” Spencer huffed, letting his arms fall back to his sides once the shirt was off of his body.

“No worries, okay? I like being here to help. It definitely doesn’t hurt me to see your beautiful body.” Derek grinned as Spencer let out a soft laugh at the comment.

“Cheesy.” Spencer said. “Would it be okay if I didn’t wear a shirt to bed? I don’t really want to bother with one, especially since I’m so overstimulated already.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem at all. Do you want me to keep mine on or off?” Derek inquired.

“Either is fine. I wouldn’t complain if you left it off, just saying.” It was Spencer’s turn to make Derek laugh. “I can get the pants. Thank you for the help with the buttons.”

“Anytime, my pretty boy.” Derek smiled and turned to grab a change of clothes for himself. The two pulled on sweatpants before Spencer fell into the bed.

“I know I should brush my teeth because germs, but I don’t think I can move.” He mumbled through a pillow. Derek laughed.

“Understandable. I’m going to brush mine quickly and I’ll join you.” Derek replied. “I can bring some mouthwash out for you, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, that sounds great, actually. Thank you.” Spencer murmured his appreciation.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a minute.” Derek said.

It didn’t take long for Derek to finish brushing his teeth and bring out the mouthwash. Before Spencer knew it, Derek was flicking off the lamp and crawling into the bed beside him. He immediately scooted closer.

“Here, come on.” Derek laughed at his eagerness as he made space for Spencer to curl up with him. Spencer rested his head on Derek’s shoulder and sighed in contentment. Despite his exhaustion, he felt tingling where his skin met Derek’s. There was something so calming, so intimate, about them laying together without shirts. Spencer couldn’t quite place why - all he knew was that he loved it.

“G’night, Der.” Spencer yawned and snuggled closer.

“Goodnight, my pretty boy. Sleep well.” Derek kissed the top of Spencer’s head and laid his hand atop Spencer’s, which was resting on his chest. Spencer tilted his head back to look up, meeting Derek’s eyes.

“Thank you.” Spencer murmured. Before Derek could respond, Spencer scooted up and kissed him. “Sleep well.” He smiled at Derek’s shock. Derek stopped him before he could scoot back down.

“Hey, now, you don’t get to spring that on me and then move away!” Derek grinned and cupped Spencer’s cheek. Spencer smiled as Derek kissed him again, slower than the first one. Softly, the two kissed, longer this time. After a few more moments, Spencer pulled back, exhaustion threatening to take over.

“As much as I would love to continue, I think I may pass out mid-kiss, and I doubt either of us want that.” He laughed lazily as he slid back down to his original resting place. “Don’t think you’re getting out of the ‘I’m with someone’ conversation tomorrow, either.”

“Got it.” Derek chuckled and planted another small kiss to the top of his head. “Goodnight.”

“Night.” Spencer smiled against Derek’s warm skin. Nothing could make him feel better than this moment. 

Chapter Text

 Spencer woke with a gasp, his heart pounding fast and hard, like a monsoon. Which seemed fitting, considering the trail of heavy tears he felt flowing down his cheeks. Spencer sat up in bed, shaky hands reaching up to wipe at his face. He was surprised to see that Derek was still fast asleep beside him. Usually his nightmares would cause him to thrash around, but he must have awoken before it reached that point. Despite his best effort, Spencer couldn’t steady his breathing. Tremors traveled down his limbs, goosebumps leaving a trail in their path.

Images from the dream kept flashing behind Spencer’s clenched-shut eyelids. He couldn’t make them stop, couldn’t make himself calm down. He needed a way to make it go away, to wash it from his memory and gently soften his stiff muscles. He needed relief. He needed… what did he need?

Spencer’s brain threw two options at him at once; find a sharp object, or, wake Derek up. His automatic reaction was to crawl out of bed and lock himself in the bathroom, and he barely managed to stop himself from doing just that. His body was conditioned to such a routine - wake up from a nightmare, go to the bathroom, cut, calm down. But now, Spencer knew he had another option. He just had to be willing to make the first step and wake Derek up.

Before he could lose his nerve, Spencer reached over and shook Derek’s shoulder softly. When he didn’t move, Spencer shook again, harder this time, and called out to him.

"Derek?" He croaked, his voice raspy from the hyperventilation. "Derek."

"Hm? What?" Spencer watched as Derek turned and grumbled, words groggy and confused. It wasn’t until Derek saw Spencer that he fully woke up. "Hey, hey, what’s wrong, Spencer?"

"I had a-" Spencer inhaled sharply, trying to slow his breathing so he could speak. As Derek’s arms wrapped around his shaking frame, Spencer relaxed slightly. "Nightmare. I had a nightmare."

"Oh, pretty boy, I’m so so-" Derek began to talk, but Spencer cut him off. If he was going to do this, he needed to speak now before he chickened out.

"I want to cut myself." Spencer choked on the words as they came out. It took everything inside of him not to escape to somewhere else and hide from this vulnerability. Instead, Spencer started to sob. He buried his face in Derek’s chest and hugged him tightly, holding on to Derek like a lifeline.

"Hey, hey, you’re okay. Let it out, I’m right here." Derek ran his hands through Spencer’s hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Spencer sat and let Derek hold him as sobs continued to wrack his body. "I’m so proud of you, you know? Waking me up was such a huge step towards getting better."

"I saw the crime scene. But it wasn’t Will lying on the floor, it was me." Spencer sniffled. "I was so little when I did all of that, when I tried to kill myself. I was only a kid. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair." He let out another gut-wrenching sob.

"Oh, Spencer." Derek sighed, unsure of what to say.

"The ‘me’ on the ground was child me. I walked up to him and watched as he opened his eyes. But they weren’t the eyes of a living being. They had a vacant look in them, like they had been dead for a long time." Spencer hiccuped and shifted himself so his chin rested on Derek’s shoulder.

"Was that all that you saw?" Spencer heard the raw pain in Derek’s voice.

"No." Spencer took a shaky breath before continuing to recount his nightmare. "He spoke to me. He looked me straight in the eyes and I got this horrible feeling, like something was extremely wrong. He didn’t even move, and his - well, my - voice wasn’t what it sounded like when I was a child. It was heavier, more mature. Darker. He said, ‘You left me here to die. You failed me. You are reaping what you have sown.’, and then I woke up."

"Hey, come look at me, Spence." Derek gently placed his fingers under Spencer’s chin and drew it up and away from his shoulder. Once the two were eye to eye, mere inches apart, Derek spoke again. "You deserve none of what you’re going through, okay? What you did as a child, that wasn’t a failure on your part. You were taking care of and protecting yourself in the only way you knew how to. There is no scenario in which you failed yourself; the world failed you, and that’s all there is to it. You have to stop beating yourself up over the way you coped with the impossible situations you were faced with, alright?"

"Alright." Spencer gave him a bittersweet smile, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Derek’s. "Thank you."

"Of course. Are you feeling any better?"

"My heart rate has gone down and I can breathe better now, so I’d say so. I still want to, you know, but I don’t feel like I’m an immediate danger to myself anymore."

"Good, that’s good. Thank you for trusting me with this." Derek murmured.

"Thank you for making me feel safe to trust you with this." Spencer countered. He looked into Derek’s eyes, seeing the gratefulness he was feeling reflected in them. Spencer tipped his chin up slightly and shut his eyes as his lips met Derek’s. He would never get used to the euphoria that spread throughout him when he kissed Derek. It was as if nothing else existed; it was only them, energy fizzling and sparking between them. They could feel it’s residual energy even after breaking off the kiss.

"Do you want to try to get some sleep? We still have four hours or so before we need to be out of bed, so we’d have time to get a little bit more sleep in. Or, you could wait and see if it’s easier at your house or on the jet. Whatever you choose, I’m right here with you." Derek pressed a quick kiss to Spencer’s head.

"I don’t mind trying to go back to sleep, but I can’t promise anything." Spencer murmured. "Hold me close?" 

 "Always, baby." Derek’s hand, previously running through Spencer’s hair, stopped moving. The two sat in silence for a moment, unsure of how to react. "Shit. I’m sorry, I don’t know what that was. I won’t-"

"Derek. Look at me." Spencer smiled at the frantic rambles escaping Derek. "I didn’t mind it." This was his way of telling Derek that he could continue using it if he wanted to.

"Oh. Okay, I see." Derek smirked and Spencer felt heat creeping up his neck and flushing his cheeks. "My pretty boy is a romantic, huh?"

"I guess, kind of." Spencer laughed bashfully. "Would that be so bad?"

"Not at all, baby." Derek brushed a strand of hair from Spencer’s eye. "Let’s lay back down so I can hold you."

"Gladly." Spencer smiled mischievously before reaching out, palms forward, and pushing Derek back on the bed with a chuckle.

"Romantic and rough? Damn." Derek pulled Spencer down to him, hands gripped around his waist tightly. Slowly, carefully, he kissed Spencer’s neck. Spencer’s instincts kicked in, his head immediately craning to give Derek more space. Derek laughed, sending vibrations down Spencer’s neck. He shivered at the sensation.

"Derek." Spencer breathed heavily.

"Yes?" He felt Derek smile against his skin as he continued to pepper his neck with kisses.

"I thought you wanted to sleep." Spencer pointed out, breathless.

"The way you’re reacting to me says you don’t mind staying awake for a little bit longer." Derek replied, voice husky. Spencer felt himself flush as he accounted for his movements; the hand he had gripped tightly around Derek’s arm, the other clenched, the gentle trembling throughout his entire body.

"I guess you’re not wrong." Spencer laughed breathlessly. "I could get used to this."

"So could I." Derek removed his hand from Spencer’s waist and reached up to place it on the other side of his neck, thumb resting on his jaw. Spencer unclenched the hand squeezing Derek’s arm and moved it to rest on the man’s chest. The feel of skin on skin was pure bliss. By now, they were fully engaged in each other.

"Derek." Spencer groaned when he felt Derek’s lips meet a soft spot on his neck. He felt Derek grin against his skin before promptly beginning to kiss harder, sucking lightly. It was a feeling Spencer had never, ever, experienced, and he was surprised by how much he liked it. "Fuck."

"You like that, baby?" Derek hummed, knowing that it would undo him.

"Yes. Yes." A low moan escaped Spencer’s lips when Derek upped the level of intensity. It was like he was in heaven, feeling better than he’d ever been before. He was unhappy when those magic lips left his neck, eliciting a soft whine that colored his face red with embarrassment.

"We need to sleep, pretty boy." Derek kissed Spencer’s lips to force the pout off of his face. "We can do this again another time, okay? Plus, we don’t want you getting a hickey, do we?"

"Oh. Oh, shit. Did you really do it that hard?" Spencer inhaled sharply. He could already imagine the team’s reaction to seeing a hickey on him, and that was the last thing he wanted to experience.

"No, no, don’t worry. Your skin is sensitive, but I was careful. Now come here." Derek pulled Spencer close again. Spencer immediately cuddled up to Derek’s side with a sigh of contentment. He found himself wondering how he had ever survived without someone to sleep with. Derek was such a calming presence, and even though he still had nightmares, Derek being there was enough to calm him down in the aftermath.

"Derek?" Spencer whispered sleepily.

"What’s up, Spence?" Derek absentmindedly traced circles on the back of Spencer’s hand that sat atop his chest.

"I’m so glad you’re here. I would have cut myself if I had been alone, and it probably would’ve been one of the more intense sessions. Thank you for giving me a safe space that doesn’t involve hurting myself." Spencer heard Derek sniffle as he spoke.

"Always. I will always be here. I’m so glad you trust me and I can help you. You mean so much to me. I hate seeing you hurt, especially at your own hands. I’m so proud of you." Derek’s voice was gravelly with emotion.

"Fair warning, I’m probably going to wake up feeling pretty bad. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had intense urges again. So, I’m sorry if I wake you up abruptly or if- if something happens." Spencer stumbled over his last words, hating that he knew the possibility of relapse was on the table.

"Nothing’s going to happen, not on my watch. You wake me up whenever you need to, no matter how bad you feel about doing so. Got it?" Derek spoke with a confidence that Spencer wished he could feel too. He wanted to point out that he was never going to be 100% safe, no matter who was with him. In the end, it was up to his ability to fight off the urges, and he wasn’t sure if he had the capacity for doing so. Spencer felt horrible at this inability to promise his own safety. But the last thing he wanted to do is lie.

"I’ll do my best. I don’t want to promise anything, I can’t. It’s not your fault. I just won’t promise something if I don’t know I’ll be able to keep it." Spencer sighed. "What I can promise, though, is that I’ll try my hardest to push through and allow myself comfort from something other than self-harm."

"I completely understand. You’re so amazing, baby. So amazing. I’m really proud of you." Derek pressed a kiss to the top of Spencer’s head.

"I know. You’ve said it several times within the past ten minutes or so." Spencer laughed softly.

"Hey, what can I say? I am." Derek replied, stroking Spencer’s hair softly. "Let’s get some sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah. That’s a good idea." Spencer agreed. His body relaxed, body melting into the mattress below and the man beside him. "Goodnight, Der."

"Goodnight, pretty boy. Or should I say baby?" Spencer could hear the grin Derek was sporting. He smiled and shook his head.

"You’re so funny, you know? So funny." Spencer grumbled.

"You know you love it, baby." Derek murmured.

"That’s true." Spencer affirmed. A yawn slipped past his lips.

"Goodnight, my pretty boy." Derek hummed softly. Spencer felt Derek settle down into the bed and relax against him. The last conscious thought that crossed his mind was how much he loved the feeling of Derek’s body beside his. 

~~~~

 "Spencer, wake up." Derek’s voice filtered through Spencer’s ears, effectively pulling him out of his slumber. "We slept in, must have missed the alarm. We’ve got to get our things together quickly. The jet leaves in half an hour, and the drive over is ten minutes." Spencer was fully alert by the time Derek finished speaking.

"Oh, no." Spencer groaned, frowning at Derek, who had already jumped out of bed. "But I don’t want to get up. I want to stay here with you for longer." He yawned and pushed himself upward begrudgingly.

"I know, pretty boy. I’d like that as well. Sadly, we have to get back home." Derek extended a hand to Spencer, pulling him out of bed and right into his embrace, bare chests flush. Spencer immediately melted into it with a soft exhale. He could stay wrapped in Derek’s arms forever. However, Derek was right. They had to pack quickly. As if on cue, a knock sounded from their door.

"How much do you want to bet that’s Hotch coming to check on us because I’m usually the first one out of the doors?" Spencer unraveled himself from Derek and gave him a quick kiss.

"Wouldn’t be surprised." Derek grinned as he moved towards the door. Spencer watched as he peeped through the hole in the door and let out a chuckle. "It’s him." Derek confirmed, stifling more laughter. Spencer scrambled for a sweatshirt as the man opened the door. He would never get used to his scars being out around anyone besides Derek.

"Hey. Just checking to make sure you guys are almost ready to leave? Spencer’s usually the first one to the jet, so I was surprised to hear that you both weren’t checked out yet." Hotch explained to Derek. Cautiously, Spencer walked over to join them. He stood beside Derek and kept his head down, hoping that the lack of sleep didn’t show too heavily on his face.

"We overslept, but we’ll be out soon. We just have to finish packing." Derek filled Hotch in while Spencer stood silently. For some unknown reason, he couldn’t find it in him to talk. He was semi-verbal, he realized. Spencer would be capable of speaking if he had to, but he wouldn’t initiate.

"Reid, are you okay?" Hotch’s voice softened. Spencer felt himself beginning to itch with anxiety at the prospect of discussing his emotions with his supervisor. Instead of saying anything, he raised his head a little higher and gave the man a short nod accompanied by an awkward thumbs-up.

"He’s tired, is all. It was a long and taxing case." Derek supplied. Spencer felt a rush of gratitude. Instead of pushing him to speak or asking what was wrong with him in the middle of a discussion, Derek simply stood in when Spencer couldn’t. Having someone to support him like so was a breath of fresh air.

"I see. Anyway, I’ll wait outside the door until you both are done, and we can ride to the jet together, if that’s okay with you." Hotch took a tentative step backwards as Derek looked down to Spencer.

"Is that okay with you, or do you want to ride with just me?" Derek inquired. "Either is okay, m- pretty boy." Again, Spencer noticed a near slip-up. He chalked it up to the fact that Derek was excited with everything. Either way, he needed to be careful.

"That’s fine." Spencer mumbled, raising his head up to a normal level. "I don’t mind riding with Hotch."

"Alright, that’s what we’ll do. Hotch, we should be out in five minutes, tops." Derek turned back to their superior. Spencer noticed a change in Hotch’s body language; his head tilted slightly to the side and his eyebrows pinched. Uncomfortable and confused, Spencer excused himself and went back to packing.

"Okay, I’ll see you both in a bit." Spencer heard Hotch’s response, followed by the noise of the door closing heavily.

"Well, fuck." Derek cursed. Spencer watched in confusion as Derek ran a hand down his face.

"What’s wrong?" Spencer was lost. Maybe it had something to do with the way Hotch was looking at him? Suddenly, he got extremely nervous. Had he done something wrong? Was he in some sort of trouble?

"Remember last night and me telling you that nothing I did would leave a mark?" Derek walked closer, standing across from Spencer.

"Yeah? What does that have to do with anything?" Spencer had the sense that he should be picking up on some underlying message, but he couldn’t figure out what it was for the life of him.

"Well. I was wrong." Derek grimaced. Spencer felt his entire body begin to heat as if it had gone up in flames. There was no doubt in his mind that he was redder than a tomato.

"Oh. Oh." Spencer breathed. His hand flew up to his neck, landing over a suspiciously sensitive spot.

"I’m so sorry, Spence. I really did not mean for that to happen." Derek sighed heavily.

"Hey, it’s okay. There’s no problem. I’ve got plenty of sweaters that would fit in a way that covers it." Spencer stopped speaking momentarily in hesitation of his next thought. But, instead of holding back, he decided to speak his mind. "I don’t mind it. It’s a tangible sign that I’m yours."

"Oh, are you? I’d like that a lot." Derek smirked. He leaned in, fingers tilting Spencer’s head up to his own. They were so close, Spencer could feel Derek’s warm breath against his skin. "I guess I should probably ask you; are you okay with me telling people that I’m with someone? With me calling you mine?"

"Yes." Spencer answered with no hesitation, as if it were the easiest question he had ever been asked. In a way, it was. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to be with Derek.

"Good, good. I’m glad. I want to be known as the man lucky enough to end up with you. A brilliant, handsome, strong, amazing man that inspires me every day."

"Derek, stop. Stop talking." Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut. "Just kiss me."

"As you wish, baby." Derek closed the small gap between them eagerly as Spencer felt his heart jump at the name. Never had he imagined desiring to be called ‘baby’, yet here he was, reduced to a mess of infatuation when Derek called used it to refer to him.

"Hotch is waiting for us." Spencer reminded him when they pulled away for air. "We should probably wait and finish this another time."

"As much as I would like to disagree, you’re right." Derek replied with a hint of disappointment. "Just remember to cover that up until we figure out what we’re going to tell our friends." Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as Derek reached up and ran two fingers over the bruised skin on his neck. He simply nodded in response, not trusting his voice to be steady if he spoke.

The two men broke apart and drifted to their go-bags, packing their belongings back in them. Spencer changed into a higher-necked sweater, and they double-checked the room before joining Hotch out in the hallway. Spencer knew he had a silly smile on his face, but he couldn’t get rid of it. He was overjoyed.

A month ago, if someone had asked Spencer where he would be now, he would have no idea what to say. In fact, he’d probably be inclined to answer with a single word - dead. So much had changed since then, though. Spencer felt truly happy for the first time in years. Obviously there were still hard times - like this case, for instance - but he felt a lighter. Derek had brought a peace to him that Spencer had been craving for a long time.

He just hoped nothing changed once the jet landed back in Quantico. 

Chapter Text

A low rumble vibrated through the cabin of the jet as it took off. Spencer had situated himself to be laying down on the small couch, eyes closed. Despite the exciting morning, he was exhausted. He wasn’t going to sleep yet, though. Spencer was well aware of the team’s desire to talk about him. If they did so, he wanted to be awake to hear it.

The lack of warmth beside Spencer was disconcerting. Derek was only a few feet away, seated at a table with Emily and laughing at a joke Spencer didn’t understand, but he still felt his absence. It was such a silly thing, really, but he couldn’t help it. Derek’s comforting touch made him feel safe.

It wasn’t long before the shallow chatter slowed to a stop, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. The tension crackled like a live wire. Nobody wanted to be the first to speak up, but the conversation was one they all wanted. In the end, Rossi broke the silence.

"I’m not going to ask what’s going on, because that’s for Reid to tell me in his time. But, I am curious on one thing. Does everyone else know what’s been happening with the kid? I’m worried about him and want to make sure he’s got a support system to back him."

"I’ve been keeping an eye on him, don’t worry. Everyone else knows bits and pieces, but he didn’t want to share it with anyone." Derek spoke quietly so as to not wake the supposedly sleeping Spencer.

"Got it." Rossi let out a heavy sigh. "I just wish he wasn’t so damn stubborn and closed off. Helping him would be much easier if he allowed us in on his personal struggles." Spencer had to stop himself from flinching. He hated it, hated his inability to open up. It just wasn’t a part of who he was. It wasn’t natural.

"Don’t worry, Dave. We’ve got it handled." Hotch assured him. "Morgan’s going to be staying with him. He’s gotten Reid to open up somewhat; they’re making progress."

"Yeah, I’m sure the only reason Morgan is staying with him is to keep an eye out." Emily joked, causing Spencer’s face to flush. He hoped nobody was looking over at him.

"Emily!" Derek laughed. Spencer could hear the nervousness underneath the chuckles.

"Hey, you didn’t deny it." Spencer could hear the smirk in Emily’s voice.

"We’re supposed to be talking about Spencer right now, guys. Let’s get back on track." Derek attempted to reroute the conversation.

"You sure are calling him by his first name a lot these days." JJ pointed out, earning a light chuckle from Emily.

"When you stay with someone at their house, first names tend to be commonplace." Derek replied, obviously annoyed.

Spencer could tell the man was beginning to get frustrated, so he did what Derek did for him so often; distracted the others. He exhaled a short grunt before turning over clumsily as if he were asleep. Spencer’s face was now smashed up against the back of the couch, but he didn’t care. The silence following his movement proved that his distraction had worked.

"But the kid is safe, yes?" Rossi’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as a knife.

"Yes." Hotch replied. The confidence in his voice made Spencer frown. As much as he wished it were true, it wasn’t. He didn’t know if it ever would be.

"Good. That’s all I needed to know." Rossi said with a finality that finished the conversation.

The cab lapsed into silence. Spencer was having a hard time staying awake now that everyone had ceased talking about him. It didn’t take long before he slipped out of consciousness. 

Spencer woke with a start, temporarily disoriented by his surroundings. He pushed himself to a sitting position quickly as his head swiveled to survey the environment around him. Spencer flushed as his eyes landed on his coworkers, all of whom were watching him with varying degrees of concern.

"Morning, Spencer. Did you sleep well?" Derek smiled softly and stood from his seat to join Spencer on the couch. Spencer scooted aside to make room for him. Luckily, Derek’s approach eased the surrounding tension and the team went back to what they had been doing previous to his waking up.

"I think so?" Spencer yawned, uncertain of his answer. He couldn’t remember dreaming, but he felt a sense of unease that typically accompanied a nightmare.

"Alright, good." Derek replied. Spencer watched as Derek’s hand lifted like he was about to grab Spencer’s, but he stopped himself before doing so. Spencer smirked at him. "Damn, pretty boy. This secret is going to be harder than I thought." Derek whispered, voice low enough for only Spencer to hear.

"Tell me about it. All I want to do is curl up next to you and fall asleep in your arms." Spencer whispered back with a sleepy smile. "How far out are we?"

"Not far, maybe an hour or so. We’ll be home before you know it."

"Good. I miss my bed."

"I miss it, too." Derek murmured with a devilish grin. Spencer gently smacked his arm with a chuckle.

"You know, I heard the team’s conversation about me." Spencer suddenly sobered up, laughter halting. He kept his voice low as he spoke. "Do you think I should tell Rossi?"

"That’s not really for me to decide, Spencer. Do you feel comfortable doing that?" Derek inquired.

"I don’t know. I probably should, I just don’t know how to. I trust him, he’s a good man, a good friend. It’s just hard to be so vulnerable about something like this." Spencer fidgeted with the ends of his sweater nervously.

"Do you think you’ll want to talk to Penelope about this?"

"Absolutely not." Spencer’s answer was immediate. "I don’t want her to worry or fuss. She’s far too good at both of those."

"Yeah, I get that. It makes sense."

"I’d just feel really bad about it, you know? Especially if I told Rossi, which I probably will. I don’t want her to feel like I couldn’t trust her with it or hurt her feelings in some way." Spencer sighed heavily and drew his knees up to his chest. "Why does everything have to be so complicated all the time?"

"I don’t know, Spence, I don’t know." Derek shook his head sadly and pat Spencer on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few moments longer than a friend’s would.

Suddenly, without warning, Spencer felt a rush of confidence crash into him. What would be the harm in talking to everyone about it, really? They already knew. It wasn’t like it could get any worse; the secret was already laid out on display for everyone except Rossi and Garcia. Resolutely, Spencer moved his legs down so his feet were flat to the floor and he was sitting up straight on the couch.

"Baby? Are you okay?" Derek murmured in Spencer’s ear, causing a shiver to overtake him. He simply nodded and smiled in return.

"Yeah, I am. I really am." Spencer smiled at him before turning to look at the rest of the group in the jet. "We have an hour before we get back, right?"

"Yes. Why?" Derek asked, confused.

"That’s the perfect amount of time for this." Spencer said vaguely before clearing his throat and raising his voice. "I heard you all talking about me when you thought I was asleep."

The entire cabin fell silent. Spencer felt uncomfortable under their expectant gazes, but he knew he had to continue. It was now or never, truly. It was time to be honest.

"Rossi, there’s something you should know." Spencer inhaled deeply.

"Reid. You don’t have to tell me anything if you aren’t comfortable. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Rossi spoke slowly, no sign of dishonesty present.

"I know. But I want to tell you. Well, not want to, but I think you should know." Spencer explained. "Everyone knows by some sort of accident. It was never planned. Derek was the first to find out, and he called Hotch. Emily heard me empathizing with Will. Then, JJ pushed me over the edge during the case and I sort of lost control and it came out. I promise I wasn’t keeping this from you on purpose, it just so happened that you’re the only one who hadn’t caught me in a vulnerable position.

"You’re right to worry. I’m not okay. I haven’t been in, well, ever. But Derek and Hotch are right too; I’ll be okay. They’ve been wonderful with helping me. Anyway, I’ll stop being cryptic and just get to it, I guess." Spencer shifted nervously and tucked his feet underneath him. He felt Derek’s hand rest on his back - outside of the team’s view - and he gave him a small smile. The sign of support was enough to spur him on.

"I- well, I have a problem with, um. I’m sorry, this shouldn’t be so hard to say." Spencer huffed and shook his head in an attempt to calm down. Rossi gave him a pointed look.

"It’s okay, take your time. Don’t be too hard on yourself." The older man spoke kindly.

"Yeah, okay. Sorry. I- well- did you know that only 1.3 percent of children ages 5 to 10 self-injure? That number raises to 17 percent in adolescents and drops back to 15 percent in college students. For adults, it drops even further, down to 5 percent. The common onset age is 13, but 8 isn’t unheard of. And at least 35 percent of self-harmers are male, despite the common conception that it’s only a female problem.

"That’s not all, either. 17 percent of people will self-injure during their lifetime. 45 percent of self-harmers use cutting as their method. Risk factors include abuse, mental health conditions like depression and anxiety disorders, and repeated stressful situations like bullying. The more risk factors a person experiences, the higher the likelihood of occurrence is. While self-injury isn’t a suicidal act, self-harmers are more likely to attempt suicide than non-self-harmers.

"The worst part is the fact that it becomes an addiction. Over time, what used to work doesn’t anymore. Just like drugs; the longer you take them, the more you need. And the longer you cut, the more you need to do it and more damage there has to be. After years and years of it, it becomes seemingly impossible to cope in any other way. You’re already so far down the hole that everything becomes an excuse to do it. It’s such a heavy reliance and somehow, no matter what you do, it’s never enough. You always need more.

"And you know how bad it is for you. You’re fully aware of the consequences. But it works. The physical pain is a distraction from whatever mental anguish you’re going through. It even starts to feel good. When you aren’t hurting, you find yourself craving it - you’re unhappy with not being in pain.

"It’s a vicious, awful cycle. A horrible thing. Even worse when it begins in early childhood. The addition of Major Depressive Disorder, Autism Spectrum Disorder, and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder definitely don’t help. But if you have friends who are willing to stick with you, it’s possible to beat it. It really is." Spencer took a deep breath after finishing. He knew he had been rambling, but he didn’t stop until he had everything out. This was the best way to do so.

"I see. Eight?" Rossi replied, calm as ever. Spencer felt his breath catch in his throat - Rossi sure was straight-forward.

"Eight." Spencer confirmed. He could feel Derek’s reassuring hand on his lower back and was acutely aware of the sympathetic looks he was getting from JJ and Emily. "You guys don’t have to be upset, it’s not a big deal."

"Spencer, we talked about this." Derek murmured and held a hand up to silence the girls, who were already preparing protests. "It is a big deal. Hurting yourself is a big deal." Spencer locked eyes with Derek and nodded, subconsciously leaning into him. All Spencer wanted was to lay his head down on Derek’s shoulder. Instead, he settled for the feel of the man’s arm half-around him as his hand rested on his back.

"I know." Spencer mumbled dejectedly. He hated when other people gave him this kind of attention, needed or not. He hated feeling like a burden.

"Thank you for sharing, Reid. I’m proud of you." Rossi spoke up again. Spencer felt his eyes water. Rossi, like Hotch, acted as a sort of father-figure to him. Comments like those made him feel irrationally emotional.

"Yeah." Spencer choked out, unable to find any other words to express his gratitude. Rossi seemed to understand - a big smile slowly spread across his face. Spencer smiled back and breathed in before finding the last few words he needed to get out.

"There are a lot of things you all don’t know, and it will probably be like that for a long time. It has nothing to do with my level of trust in you guys. Vulnerability just doesn’t come easily. But I can promise that I’ll try to be more open."

"We’re all proud of you, Reid." Hotch stated, murmurs of agreement coming from everyone else.

Spencer looked around and smiled. What used to seem impossible - being open with the people closest to him - had become a reality. He felt lighter than ever, as if he could float up into the heavens. On a whim, Spencer leaned over and whispered in Derek’s ear.

"What if we lightened the conversation and told them the news?" When Spencer pulled away, Derek was grinning.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea." Derek answered. "Go for it, my pretty boy."

"Hey, everyone?" Spencer called out, regaining the group’s attention. "There’s one more thing I think I should be open about."

Spencer could have laughed right then and there at the looks on his friend’s faces. Everyone but Hotch looked mildly concerned. Hotch’s lips were quirked up ever so slightly, seeming to understand what was about to happen.

"You know what, scratch that. There’s something we should be more open about." Spencer grinned and interlaced his fingers with Derek’s, setting them against his knee in plain view. Noise erupted throughout the small room.

"I called it! You owe me twenty!" JJ squealed, smiling smugly at a flabbergasted Emily.

"Yeah, I’m not surprised." Rossi shrugged. "I saw it coming from a mile away."

"I’m really happy for you two." Hotch smiled softly.

"I thought it would take at least two more weeks. I can’t believe I lost the bet!" Emily huffed. "I mean, congrats, guys!" Spencer laughed at her reaction.

"Well, that went a lot smoother than I anticipated." Spencer grinned at Derek, leaning in to rest his forehead on the man’s shoulder.

"I’m glad. It’s really hard to pretend like I’m not totally infatuated with you." Derek chuckled, and Spencer lifted his head to meet Derek’s eyes.

"Me too, Der. Me too." Spencer blushed when Derek placed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Hey, no PDA here!" Emily called out with a laugh. "No need to remind me of how desperately lonely I am!"

"Well, Emily, I’m sorry you don’t have someone like Derek. Sucks to suck, right?" Spencer grinned.

"How- what- who are you? Don’t get me wrong, that was hilarious, but what happened to Spencer and where did you hide his body?" Emily lifted a hand to her heart and let out an exaggerated gasp, sending another round of laughter through the team.

"That was a little cruel, don’t you think, baby?" Derek nudged him, smirking.

"Baby? Oh hell no, get me off of this plane. This is disgusting." JJ made a gagging motion as if she were disgusted, but she wore an excited smile as she did so.

"Alright, everyone, let’s leave them alone now. I’m sure they’re in for it once we get back to Quantico." Hotch reminded them.

"Oh no. She’s going to kill me." Spencer sucked in a breath.

"Who?" Derek questioned, concerned. JJ and Emily were stifling laughs.

"Penelope!" Spencer shrieked. "I stole her chocolate thunder!" At this, Derek burst into peels of laughter.

"Don’t worry, my pretty boy. She can have the chocolate thunder version of me, and I’ll save the chocolate boyfriend version for you." Derek teased playfully.

"No, no, she’ll kill me! Genuinely, she’s going to kill me! I bet she’d get away with it, too!" Spencer was laughing hard now, unable to contain the humor behind his concerns.

"Baby, Penelope couldn’t hurt a fly, you know that. Plus, if she tried to hurt you, I’d go all chocolate thunder on her ass." Derek wrapped an arm around Spencer. When he saw the look on Spencer’s face, he realized what he had said and immediately backtracked. "Wait, no! Not like that! I meant, like, I’ll destroy her! Not- not in a sexual way!"

"Derek, chill. I know." Spencer gasped between laughs. Derek’s face was sufficiently red by then. Even Rossi and Hotch were laughing now.

It was perfect, really. After everything that occurred on the case, this was exactly what Spencer needed. Laughing with his friends felt like bliss. As his head fell back on the couch and the air wheezed in his lungs, Spencer realized just how lucky he was. He had a group of friends who were supportive and nonjudgmental, a boyfriend who took care of him like nobody ever had before, the life he had always dreamed of. He wasn’t going to let any more of it be ruined by his negative emotions, not anymore.

Now, all Spencer had to conquer was telling the fiercely protective Penelope Garcia that he was stealing her chocolate thunder.

Chapter Text

 Spencer’s apartment door creaked open noisily. The team had arrived back in Quantico an hour ago, and Spencer and Derek headed back quickly. Even though he had gotten sleep on the jet, Spencer was exhausted. Sleep in the air - and around other people - was never restful for him. He was always half-awake, ears perked for any sign of danger.

"Are you sure you want to stay with me? I don’t want to pull you away from anything." Spencer asked for the thousandth time. He had been feeling guilty since the two entered the car and began the drive to Spencer’s apartment.

"We’ve been over this, pretty boy. I’m staying with you until I’m not worried about your safety. It’s not a bother, okay? I actually tend to enjoy your company." Derek grinned and glanced over at Spencer, who was sulking in the passenger’s seat. "Spencer. You hear me? You are not a burden to me."

"Yeah. I hear you. But my brain isn’t at the right capacity to process it as truth." Spencer mumbled, wrapping his arms around his torso in a tight hug.

"What do you mean?" Derek’s eyebrows furrowed and he stole another look to Spencer, only worrying more upon seeing his stance.

"It means that my rational brain is offline right now. I don’t have the capacity to filter it through properly." Spencer sighed heavily. "When I hear ‘you aren’t a burden’, my mind automatically processes as ‘you are a burden’. I have to consciously put the phrase through my logical brain so it can rephrase and rework the way I receive it."

"That’s…" Derek stammered, seemingly stumped.

"Weird. I know." Spencer finished for him.

"No. I wasn’t going to say weird. It’s just very… different from how my brain processes, is all." Derek mused.

"Different. Weird. Crazy. It all means the same thing after a while." Spencer finally turned his head towards Derek, daring to make eye contact for the brief moments Derek looked over.

"I’m sorry those words have been used against you negatively, Spencer. I know you can’t process it right now, but when I used the word ‘different’, it had a positive connotation." Derek reached over and laced his fingers with Spencer, smiling when he didn’t flinch and accepted his touch eagerly.

"Okay. I can try to learn that sometime. Thank you." Spencer’s eyes twinkled with unshed tears. He couldn’t do it now, but he would try to accept the change for Derek. And maybe, just maybe, for himself. Spencer was coming to realize that he’s allowed to do things for himself - in fact, it’s a healthy habit.

"No problem at all. We’re at your apartment, so get ready to hop out." Derek squeezed Spencer’s hand before replacing it on the wheel to make the turn into the apartment’s parking lot. Spencer smiled at him, a real, genuine smile. He was glad he had someone there to glue him back together when he was crumbling.

~~~

 "Hey, pretty boy, do you remember us talking about finding you a therapist?" Derek murmured into Spencer’s ear. Spencer felt a shiver run through his body. They were curled up together on the couch, and he was snuggled into Derek’s side.

"Yeah." Spencer’s fingers started to move from anxiety, playing with the other ones intertwined with his own. Derek didn’t seem to mind, so Spencer let himself continue.

"I know you said you wanted to stay up and read, but you seem like you need some sleep. You can barely keep those pretty eyes open." Derek grinned at the blush that spread over Spencer’s cheeks. "Maybe you could take a nap and I could find you a therapist to see?"

"I- I guess." Spencer let the opened book beside him fall to the floor as he scooted closer to Derek and wrapped the man in a hug. "Gotta say goodbye first."

Spencer could feel Derek’s chuckles radiating in his own body. He pulled away reluctantly and sat still for a moment, contemplating his next decision. With a gentle smile, Spencer left a quick and soft peck on Derek’s lips. He tried to get up to go to his room but was stopped by the force of Derek’s strong arm.

"Hey now, you can’t just leave me like that! I wasn’t prepared, I want to savor it." Derek pouted, laughing when Spencer rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Okay, alright. Needy much?" A breathy laugh escaped Spencer as he was pulled back down to the couch. However, this time, he was sitting more on Derek than the couch. Not that he would complain.

"Absolutely." Derek’s breath was gravely as he pulled Spencer in for a kiss.

Spencer found himself locked in the man’s embrace, one hand gripping his hip and another slotted perfectly over his lower back, pushing gently to keep him in the kiss. Spencer allowed himself another moment before pulling back.

"I’d love to continue this later. I need sleep right now, though." Spencer’s hand cupped Derek’s face as he left a soft, lingering kiss on the man’s perfectly blushed lips.

"And I should be finding you a therapist." Derek said.

Spencer felt Derek’s hands leave his body with disappointment. They both pulled themselves off of the couch and stretched their sore muscles. The two had been sitting there in the same position for nearly an hour, so they were both stiff as stone.

"I’ll leave the door cracked, just for you." Spencer joked as he headed down the hallway, grinning when he heard Derek laugh heartily.

As soon as the door was cracked behind him, Spencer felt like he could properly breathe. It was dark and quiet, just how he liked it. His bed had been left unmade in the haste to leave for the case, so he set out to fixing it. It had to be set properly before he could get in. It didn’t make any sense to him, but it never felt right unless it was made before Spencer slid under the covers. Just another weird quirk of his, another way that mental illness ate up his time and energy.

It only took a few minutes to make the bed, and Spencer crawled under the covers immediately, sighing in contentment. There was nothing better than returning to his own bed after cases. As he settled in, Spencer picked up on mumbling from the living room. The ruffle of the bedding was the only noise around, and he wanted to make it as quiet as possible. He released himself from the covers and retrieved his earplugs from the nightstand beside him.

Silence. Complete, full, blissful silence. Spencer sunk into the mattress below and curled up. He was asleep within minutes.

~~~

 Spencer woke up surprisingly clear-headed. The light that had previously shown behind his curtains had disappeared, and he wondered why Derek didn’t wake him up sooner. Spencer yawned and tugged his earplugs out. That was when he heard it. Crying.

He jumped out of bed and walked quietly down the hallway. Spencer felt his heart break when his eyes landed on the shaking form that was hunched over on the couch. The last thing he wanted to see was Derek in pain. Spencer knew immediately that it was his turn to be supportive. Relationships go two ways, and Derek had given comfort even though Spencer hadn’t yet given it back. Forget relationship rules, Spencer was just worried Derek. It wasn’t a duty to be there for him, it was an honor. A switch flipped in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. This was Derek’s time.

"Der?" Spencer murmured, voice seeming too loud in the silent room. Derek whipped his head up and, upon seeing Spencer, immediately wiped at his eyes. He could tell that Derek was attempting to control his breathing and stop the steady flow from his eyes.

"Spencer. Sorry, I’m alright." Derek mumbled.

"No, you’re not." Spencer stated bluntly. "You’re not, and that’s okay. Talk to me." He walked over and sat beside the man, reaching out to wipe a stray tear from his cheek.

"Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, really. I promise." Derek insisted further.

"Derek. With all due respect, that’s bullshit." Spencer held up a hand to stop Derek’s oncoming protests. "You know damn well that if the roles were reversed, you’d be mad out of your head trying to figure out what I need."

"Well, yeah, but that’s because you have actual stuff going on, like mental health stuff. That’s more important than my emotional drama." Derek averted his eyes from Spencer.

"My mom once told me something that I will never forget. Look at me, Der." Spencer guided the man’s head back over, moving to cup his cheek. "Someone who drowns in seven feet deep water is still just as dead as someone who drowns in twenty-five feet deep water. It doesn’t matter what the person is dealing with, how deep the water is; they both drown. Your problems aren’t void because I have some too. You’re allowed to hurt, and I want to be here to help you when you are."

"My pretty boy, have I ever told you how amazing you are?" Derek smiled and let his eyes flutter shut as Spencer gently wiped his tears away.

"Yes, you have." Spencer laughed softly. "Now, will you tell me what’s going on?"

"I feel horrible about it. I don’t want to tell you, because it’s just wrong on my part." Derek sighed heavily.

"Derek. Stop thinking so hard. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours." Spencer dropped his hand from the man’s face, opting to grip his partner’s hands instead.

"I’m just-" Derek’s chin wobbled, and Spencer felt an ache in his chest, "I just care about you so much and I’m so worried all of the time and so I haven’t been able to sleep or think or, sometimes, eat. I’m really tired and I’m sad because I care about you so much that seeing you in so much pain is tearing me up inside. And it’s not fair of me to say that, because you’re the one actually dealing with the issues, so who am I to-"

"Hey, don’t do that. Don’t discount the way you feel. Keep going, Der." Spencer felt wetness on his cheeks as he briefly stopped Derek’s rant.

"Sorry. It’s just been really hard for me to come to terms with everything going on. Anytime you’re in pain, I’m in pain. It physically hurts to see you so hurt. And don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade it for the world, it’s just hard. I care about you so fucking much, Spencer. Fuck." Derek gasped as a sob tore through his body. Spencer wrapped his arms around his shaking figure and pulled him closer. Derek immediately buried his face in Spencer’s chest, crying in earnest.

"Oh, Derek. I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this. Thank you for telling me. You don’t have to handle this - or anything, for that matter - alone. It’s us against the world now, yeah?" Spencer soothed, rubbing his hand up and down Derek’s back slowly.

"Fuck." Derek hiccuped and pulled away from Spencer after a few more minutes of tears. "I’m sorry about that."

"Don’t apologize. Please. I will always be here for you, and happily, for that matter. I’m really glad you opened up to me." Spencer pressed a kiss to Derek’s forehead. "Did you get it all out or do you need to talk about anything else?"

"No, that’s all. I just didn’t want to tell you and make you feel like a burden because that’s the last thing I want." Derek sniffled. It was oddly beautiful to see Derek vulnerable, Spencer realized. He got to see so many different sides of the man, ones that other people wouldn’t. He was so lucky.

"You know, before I came over, I was standing in that hallway for a moment. I had to stop and take a deep breath because I felt a physical reaction to seeing you cry. I mean, it felt like my heart was crumbling." Spencer squeezed Derek’s hand. "And it made me realize, well, what you mean when you say that being there for me isn’t a burden. Because to me, being here for you is an honor. Knowing that you trust me enough to be vulnerable with me isn’t like anything I’ve ever felt before. I feel so honored to be your person, the one you go to when you need comfort, the one you trust with everything. I get it now." Spencer smiled again.

"You just described it perfectly. That’s exactly how I feel. Like I’ve hit the lottery of having the honor to stand by you and take care of you. To spend time with you doing small things, talking, laughing, cuddling. It makes me feel like the luckiest man alive." Derek leaned over and pressed his forehead to Spencer’s. "From now on, I’ll come to you. No hesitations."

"Good, that’s good. I want you to know that you’re safe with me." Spencer could feel the exhale of Derek’s breath on his face.

"I do. Spencer, I really do. You make me feel safer than I’ve ever felt. You care for me in a way I never could have imagined being lucky enough to gain. I can’t imagine how I’ve gone so many years with you as just a friend." Derek was whispering now.

"I can’t either. You are the best person I could ever ask for. I never thought I would find someone who would accept me despite everything that I deal with, but you did. And you even accepted all of me, not despite pieces of me. I have never felt safer with anyone in my entire life. You’ve made my life so much better." Spencer’s whispered response hung in the air around them for a moment, filling the apartment with a silence so loud it demanded attention.

"Spencer." Derek murmured, and Spencer felt the man’s lips brush his own with the formation of his name.

"Derek." Spencer replied softly.

"Spencer." This time, Derek’s voice was more forceful, but still retained a particularly lovely softness to it. "Spencer, I think I’m in love with you."

Spencer’s heart sputtered. It was something he never imagined to hear in his entire life. He had prepared himself for living alone and never having a partner. He knew how difficult his problems were to manage, and so he resigned himself to his fate of being forever lonely. But somehow, here he was, with the most beautiful soul confessing his love for Spencer. The best part: Spencer felt the same way.

"Oh, Derek. Derek. I love you, too." Spencer breathed. In an instant, the two were kissing. It wasn’t needy, wasn’t intense. They already knew they had each other, so there was no need to rush. Spencer allowed himself to sink into the gentleness of the kiss, reveling in the slow and sure nature that Derek was showing. In between kisses, when coming up for air, murmurs of their feelings filled the air around them.

By the time they broke apart, the two were breathless. Spencer sat silently while looking into Derek’s eyes, foreheads pressed against each other. Surprisingly, he felt no need to break the contact. Instead, he analyzed the different colors of brown swirling together, marveled at the beauty of it. Spencer knew Derek was doing the same.

"I don’t know what to say." Spencer hummed, suddenly bashful. "I’ve never been in a situation like this before."

"Honestly, me either. I’ve kissed people, sure, but I’ve never loved someone like this. Like the way I love you. I guess we can figure it out together, yeah?" Derek kissed him again, and Spencer felt euphoric. There’s no way it could get better than this, Spencer knew. 

Chapter Text

Spencer was unprepared, to say the least. He had to break the news to Penelope. He felt like a bundle of live wires just waiting to be set off.

"Hey baby, it’s time to head to work. Coming?" Derek called from the other room. Spencer was standing in front of the bathroom mirror staring at his reflection. For some reason, nothing felt quite real. He hated these days, the days where everything around him blurred and made it nearly impossible to recognize himself. Maybe it was a remnant of their last case, maybe it was the conversation he had with Derek the night before. Spencer could never really tell what triggered the feeling, really.

"Yeah, I’m coming." Spencer replied as confidently as he could. Nothing was wrong, he was fine, everything was okay. He could do this. It’s just Penelope, right?

"Woah, woah, are you okay pretty boy?" Derek stopped him as soon as he entered the living room. "You look pale. Like, really pale."

"I’m alright, just…" Spencer hesitated. Should he mention the mild dissociation he was experiencing? "Penelope." He settled on a less concerning - but still true - answer.

"Spencer, it’s fine. She’ll be fine. The whole thing was a joke, anyway. There was never anything going on there, and she knows that. Purely platonic." Derek smiled and took Spencer’s hand. "Now let’s get going before we end up late, yeah?"

Spencer simply nodded and gave him a small smile. He was having a really hard time focusing on Derek. His eyes kept blurring out, refusing to stay focused despite his best efforts. Feeling disconnected like this was the last thing he needed. Spencer used his free hand to toss his messenger bag over his shoulder and unlocked the door, pulling Derek out into the hallway behind him. Before the man could go any further, Spencer put a firm hand on his chest. Raising himself up, Spencer kissed Derek. It was short and sweet, a lingering affection.

"I love you." Spencer exhaled softly when they broke apart. The two had been reminding the other repeatedly since the night before, as if once was never enough. All of the nights where the words were held back had come tumbling out, floodgates open. The best part of it all; Spencer felt it in his soul every time he said it. It wasn’t some offhand comment or something to say whenever, it was a declaration. The words have meaning to Spencer. He only uses them when he truly feels it. And now that he truly felt them to his core, Spencer couldn’t stop them from spilling out.

"I love you too, my pretty boy." Derek smiled and pressed a gentle, soft kiss to the tip of Spencer’s nose, making him laugh. Spencer loved the smaller show of affection, the quick pecks and the brushing away of hair, the subtle touches and the hand-holding whenever possible.

As he laughed, Spencer realized what he was doing. He was thinking, really thinking. His connection with reality had returned upon the physical and emotional connection he experienced. While he knew it wouldn’t last forever, Spencer loved how easy it was for Derek to ground him, even when completely unaware of the fact.

"Let’s go." Spencer squeezed Derek’s hand and tugged him along. "We have some planning to do before we get there. I’m not about to go into this without a script. Pen would absolutely throw me off if I didn’t prepare." He smiled when Derek laughed and let his own humored chuckle out. These were the mornings, the kind of mornings that reminded him that life was worth living. There was no way of knowing what the rest of the day would bring, but Spencer was sure of one thing; he was beyond happy with his current life and was sure that there would always be even better things coming. All of the fighting through bad times was for this. For Derek, for sunshine and crisp air, for wind ruffling leaves, for laughter echoing through empty hallways, for stolen glances. It was worth it. 

~~~~

"Spencer, take a deep breath. It’s going to be fine!" Derek chuckled as the two passed through the doors and into their unit’s section.

"I know, I know. But knowing doesn’t change the feelings. There’s a disconnect there." Spencer mumbled. He was beginning to feel disconnected again, and he didn’t like it. Watching himself from a third-person perspective tended to be an annoying inconvenience. Spencer silently cursed his long-ingrained coping mechanism. Now was time for Work Spencer, not Home Spencer.

Instead of letting his mind continue wandering around, Spencer focused on the bodily sensations he was having. There was a slight stinging on his thigh, the wounds there not fully healed. His feet were planted firmly to the ground. His hands were fiddling with the ends of his sweater’s sleeves. The texture was soft, a comfy yet work-appropriate garment. Thankfully, this physical grounding tended to work quite well for Spencer, and he was almost fully in control of himself again.

Before Spencer could even get to his desk, Hotch exited his office in quick strides. His demeanor screamed unsettled. The man opened JJ’s office door, stopping only long enough to beckon her to come with him. Hotch did the same with Rossi before calling out to the rest of them.

"Round table room, everyone." Hotch’s voice was so stern that Spencer felt himself looking over to Emily, sharing a confused and somewhat concerned glance. Derek was already headed over to the room, and Spencer followed behind him.

Spencer plopped down in his chair and immediately started bouncing his leg. What would have Hotch so uptight? They had just gotten off of a case, and he hoped more than anything that there wasn’t another one calling them away. A large hand came to rest on Spencer’s knee, causing him to flinch in surprise. However, once he realized who’s hand it was, Spencer smiled. He looked up briefly to meet eyes with Derek, appreciation shown through the single meaningful glance. Spencer then swiveled his head around, checking to see if anyone was watching, suddenly nervous.

"Spence, they can’t see my hand. We’re good." Derek whispered. Spencer grimaced in reply. "What? What’s with the face?"

"I was just thinking about how much I want to hold your hand." Spencer tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t help the grin tugging on his lips. Derek let out a breathy chuckle before becoming serious again.

"That would be nice, wouldn’t it?" Derek sighed as if he were thinking of how wonderful it would feel. "But we should probably keep PDA to a minimum even though everyone knows. PDA in the workplace, especially the FBI, is probably not the best idea."

"Who’s displaying PDA in the FBI headquarters?" An excited, high-pitched voice sounded from behind the two, startling Spencer. Of course, Garcia had heard them talking. Spencer wouldn’t expect anything less from his luck.

Blushing, Spencer bit his lip. He could see the other’s amused smiles - minus Hotch and Rossi, who were deep in conversation near the door - out of the corner of his eye. He then turned to Derek before shifting his gaze to the person he was so nervous about seeing. That anxiety felt silly now that he was faced with the real thing. Garcia was wearing a bright pink dress with equally florescent flowers adorning the bottom, paired with silver sparkling heels with pink accents. Even her accessories matched; there were small flower clips placed in the front of her hair, and her glasses were floral printed as well. It was the opposite of intimidation and made Spencer want to laugh.

"Um, well… nobody, right now." Spencer replied sheepishly. It wasn’t a lie; Derek had retracted his hand right after she had approached.

"Obviously not right now, silly! There’s nobody in here who would be sharing PDA! I meant out there." Garcia grinned and gestured towards the still-open door using a pink, frilly pen.

"There’s nobody out there doing so, either." Derek smirked devilishly, knowing just how to rile her up.

"Then who were you talking about?" Garcia asked, confused. Spencer glanced over at Derek, the two sharing a silent conversation, before deciding how to answer her.

"Oh, you know them, actually." Spencer smiled.

"Oh, really? That’s exciting! Who is it, who is it?" Garcia was bouncing up on her toes in excitement now. A grunt of amusement sounded from across the table, drawing everyone’s attention.

"You guys are so mean." Emily said. It was obvious that she was trying to hold back her laughter, but the smile on her face was giving her away.

"They aren’t mean! They’re just…" Garcia contemplated before replying, "They’re just confusing." Derek snorted at this, enjoying Garcia’s complete obliviousness.

"Should we tell her then, Reid?" Derek pretending to ponder the decision as if it were the heaviest, most difficult choice he would ever make.

"Hm. I don’t know. We probably should." Spencer replied, somehow maintaining his composure enough to pass as genuinely stumped.

"Yeah, you’re right. That’s definitely the best idea," Derek grinned devilishly as he reached over and captured Spencer’s hand in his own before finishing, "Baby."

Garcia scrunched her eyebrows for a moment, gears turning in her head. She then gasped, a hand flying up to her chest. She looked as though she was going to faint. Spencer laughed as Garcia opened and closed her mouth several times, unsure of what to say. Pure shock was written all over her face.

"You- he- you two- what?" Garcia stumbled, thoughts moving too fast to form coherent words. By now, everyone else had joined Spencer in laughing, loud enough to draw Hotch’s and Rossi’s attention.

"Okay, everyone, quiet down. We have a case to talk about." Hotch scolded. Garcia sent one last shell-shocked look at the two before moving slowly to board and picking up the hand-held device used to flip through projected images. 

 Hotch sped across the room to take a seat at the table next to where Garcia was standing while Rossi handed files to everyone. Spencer drew back from Derek, letting go of his hand with an exaggerated frown that made the other let out a breathy, near silent laugh. He then opened the file in front of him and was immediately met with the same type of picture he had seen thousands of times before.

"This case is here in Quantico, so we don’t need to travel anywhere. That being said, don’t assume this case will be easy, because it definitely won’t. This is a targeted case." Hotch explained grimly.

"Targeted?" Emily questioned, voicing everyone else’s confusion.

"Yes. The FBI is being targeted. The pictures you have all contain murdered FBI agents. The unsub snuck into their homes and killed them in their sleep." Hotch answered.

"The unsub probably isn’t physically strong if he killed them while they were asleep. That indicates physical weakness or inexperience. However, these stab wounds are purposeful. None are shallow and show no signs of hesitation. This means it is most likely that the unsub is physically inept and incapable of fighting back." Spencer rambled, eyes scanning the pages in the file quickly.

"Precisely what I was thinking. We need to work quickly. We have five victims in five weeks, one every Saturday." Hotch grimaced. "We are considered potential targets."

"What?" JJ’s eyes widened. Spencer felt his heart drop to the floor. His apartment was his safe place, so how was he supposed to function when even being at home put him at risk? He had to stop that train of thought before it got any further, not wanting to have a panic attack in front of the others. Spencer could feel Derek’s eyes on him, but he refused to make eye contact in fear that it would break his wall down.

There were several different conversations in the room, voices raised and anxiety sparkling through everyone. Spencer wasn’t focused on the conversations, though. All he could do was stare down at the table and pretend this wasn’t happening. He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a faint call of his name but couldn’t reply. Instead of looking at Derek, Spencer trained his gaze on Hotch and spoke up, loud and clear.

"Are we going to stay in our homes to show that we aren’t afraid or are we going to stay in some sort of safe house that we can work out of?" Spencer’s question cut through everyone else’s chatter. It was as if a blanket had come down upon them.

"We go home tonight. An unmarked patrol car will be placed outside of each of your residences to watch for anyone or anything out of the ordinary. If there’s any suspicious activity, we will transfer to a safe house. But for now, it’s important to not give the unsub an ego boost by running away quickly."

"Isn’t that dangerous, though?" Emily’s voice quivered ever so slightly.

"Sometimes we have to play the dangerous game to win the long game." Spencer murmured idly. No matter how true it was, the group couldn’t help but worry. Wouldn’t anyone, if they found out they could be attacked in their own home while they’re sleeping?

All concerns about Penelope were out the window. Nothing mattered but the imminent threat to Spencer’s life. He knew his OCD was going to have a field day with this news, reminding him of all the different ways things could go wrong. Hotch cleared his throat, stopping the thoughts in his head.

"Alright, everyone. We move on as if we aren’t associated with the case. Distance yourself from it, do whatever you have to do to work at your best capacity." Hotch commanded. The team replied with simple nods, unable to speak past the lumps in their throats. It was going to be one hell of a long day.

~~~~

 By the time the day was up, Spencer had narrowed down a geological profile which, of course, included every member of the team. They struggled with victomology, however, and hadn’t managed to make any headway in that area. To say they were all exhausted was an understatement. Spencer had never felt more spent in his entire life. His shoulders sagged in relief upon Hotch ordering them all to head home. As nervous as he was about being at his apartment, Spencer couldn’t deny the allure of curling up in his bed with Derek.

Spencer met up with Derek and the two were walking to the elevator when they heard the fast-paced click of heels behind them. It was obvious who was following them. They didn’t even need to hear her voice for them to know. However, considering this was Penelope, they definitely did hear her voice.

"You two! Halt your horses!" Garcia shouted out. Spencer bit back a grin as he turned to find a much too hyper Penelope behind him.

"Hey, we were just heading out. I’m pretty tired." Spencer smiled coyly.

"Don’t play dumb with me, mister! I need to know everything, along with," her gaze sharpened playfully, "why I’m only just hearing about this when everyone else knew already."

"Conversations are always better in person, baby girl, you know that." Derek cocked his head to the side slightly before looking to Spencer. "Am I allowed to say that now? Since you’re also my baby?"

"Of course. I’m not going to dictate your language choices." Spencer chuckled. "But really, I need to get home. I feel like I’m going to pass out any minute now."

"Okay, fine. But don’t think you’re getting away with not giving me details, boy genius!" Penelope narrowed her eyes, lips twitching upwards in a smile of amusement.

"I wouldn’t dream of it." Spencer chuckled. The group began to walk to the elevator in a peaceful silence. When he went to board the elevator, Spencer felt his right foot slip out from under him, catching on the lip between the floor and the elevator. Luckily, Derek was right in front of him, so Spencer ended up stumbling into him and not the wall.

"Yeah, we definitely need to get home, huh?" Derek laughed when Spencer stayed leaning his weight against him.

"Wait." Garcia’s voice heightened in pitch. "Get home, as in you two live together?"

"He’s been staying at my place for a while. It’s not what you think, it’s… well, he’s just been helping me out with some stuff." Spencer yawned sleepily and smiled when he felt Derek’s fingers run through his hair. The smile disappeared as the elevator beeped at them, signaling their arrival to the bottom floor.

"Oh, okay. Is everything alright?" Garcia asked, a concerned undertone sneaking in her voice.

"Yeah, I’m good, don’t worry! I’ve just needed an extra hand with some things. No big deal at all." Spencer gave her an award-winning smile as they exited the elevator and into the car lot. "I’ll see you tomorrow, bye Pen!"

"Bye guys! Morgan, make sure you give him that extra hand later tonight!" Garcia’s bubbly laugh echoed through the parking deck. Spencer turned a bright red while Derek laughed back.

"C’mon pretty boy, we’ve got a nice, comfortable bed to crawl into." Derek intertwined their fingers and they walked to the car in a content silence, the only noise around being the wind whistling through the trees and bouncing off the concrete walls.

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief upon opening the car door and flopping inside. He was going to force himself to stay awake on the ride back to his apartment and watch for anything suspicious, but now he wasn’t sure how to.

"Hey, baby?" Derek’s voice murmured softly beside him and he looked over, wiping at his eyes sleepily.

"Yeah?"

"I scheduled a psychiatry appointment for you tomorrow. You’ll have to miss the tail end of work, but it was the only time they had available."

"Oh." Spencer felt his stomach twist. He was definitely not looking forward to that in the least bit.

"The psychiatrist will set you up with a therapist that fits your needs after he sees you." Derek continued to speak softly as he started the vehicle and pulled out of the parking garage.

Spencer let out a small hum, a signal that he heard and understood what Derek said. His mind was running through millions of different scenarios and he idly watched the city lights flicker past.

At least he didn’t have to worry about falling asleep in the car anymore.

Chapter Text

 "So, what brings you in today?" An older man - Dr. Arthur, according to the name on his desk - sat across from Spencer, notepad in hand. Spencer wanted to scream. The last thing he wanted to do was air out all of his problems to a man who could never understand what he was going through. The doctor was wearing short-sleeves, Spencer noted bitterly. It didn’t matter that the room was cold and he would have worn a sweater anyway, Spencer just wished he had the same freedom of clothing choice. He shook off the thought quickly. If he hadn’t made so many stupid decisions, he would never have ended up in this position. Spencer had nobody to blame but himself.

"I thought Derek told you what was going on with me already." Spencer grimaced. He hated this, hated the idea of explaining himself to someone he was most likely much smarter than. Maybe that was a horrible thing to think, some sort of narcissistic tendency, maybe, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

"He did. I want to hear your side, though, Spencer." Dr. Arthur’s voice was sweet and low. Spencer wondered if it was his typical tone or if he created it for his client’s benefit.

"It’s Dr. Reid." Spencer bit out. Here he was, snapping at his psychiatrist two sentences into their first meeting. Great.

"I’m sorry, I should have asked what you preferred. So, Dr. Reid, in your eyes, what brings you in today?" Dr. Arthur asked again. Spencer sighed as he wondered where to start.

"I’m not sure where to start." Spencer admitted. He felt his body begin to close in on himself, curling up in an attempt at protection. Funny, he thought, that he was more comfortable interrogating a serial killer than talking to a psychiatrist.

"Well, I always tell people to start from the beginning. You don’t have to give me details, just an idea of what your life has been like."

"Okay. Well, I was abused as a kid. Emotionally, physically, and," Spencer cleared his throat in a vain attempt to rid the lump building there, "and sexually. By my father. Oh, and my mother has paranoid schizophrenia, so there was neglect involved. I started, um, hurting myself around eight years old."

"Hurting yourself how?" Dr. Arthur spoke up softly. Spencer cursed inwardly; he hated using the word he would need to.

"Cutting. I cut myself." The verbal admittance to a professional made him nauseous. This was the first time he had talked with one since he was forced to after his last suicide attempt all those years ago.

"Do you still do that?" Spencer had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the question. Derek most definitely already informed him of this, so the doctor didn’t need to ask.

"Yes. Obviously. I mean, I am here, right?" Spencer snapped, immediately regretting it. "I’m sorry. So sorry. This is just- well, it’s not very easy." He apologized quietly, almost a whisper.

"It’s okay, Dr. Reid. If it was easy for you, I’d be a bit concerned." Dr. Arthur tilted his head as a small smile formed on his features. "Anyway, let’s continue. We can go into more details about the cutting later."

"Yeah, okay. I was a gifted kid, so that brings its challenges. I was bullied through all of my school years before college. I attempted suicide and engaged in self-injury through the entire time. College wasn’t great either, honestly. I think everyone hated me for being smarter than them even though I was years younger." He paused to take a deep breath. If there was ever a time for the earth to swallow Spencer whole, now would be it.

"I see you’re having a hard time. Do you want to take a break?" Dr. Arthur offered. As much as Spencer wanted to accept the offer, he knew it was now or never.

"No, I’m alright. So, after college, I joined the FBI. They waived my physical testing because they really just needed my brain, not my body. But I ended up going into the field anyway. A few years back, I was on a case with one of my team members and we split up to search the area. The unsub - bad guy, that is - managed to overpower me and take me captive." Spencer’s nails were digging into his palms so hard he could feel beads of blood forming beneath them. "He kept me captive for several days and repeatedly tortured and drugged me. It actually ended up getting me addicted for a while, but I managed to get clean after a while. Clean from the substances, not clean in general, because I turned back to self-harm to curb the cravings. I thought since it wasn’t illegal, self-harm was probably the better option of the two."

"Did you ever consider another alternative? That there were more options than using drugs or cutting yourself?"

"Of course. But none of them were enough, you know? I tried so many different things, but in the end, self-harm was what worked best." He shrugged.

"Dr. Reid." Dr. Arthur’s voice startled Spencer, whose gaze flew up from the patterned carpet he had been absentmindedly studying.

"You can call me Spencer. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I’ve just gotten so used to the ‘doctor’ title that I feel incomplete without it."

"That’s okay, Spencer. You can call me Arthur without the ‘doctor’ if you’d like, I find that it tends to make people - including myself, if I’m honest - more comfortable in these meetings." Arthur explained. "Now, I want you to do something for me, okay?"

"Okay?" Spencer felt anxiety crawling up his throat at the idea of being asked by a mental health professional to do something. There were thousands of possibilities to what he would be asked, and most of them were unpleasant.

"I want you to focus in on your body and the way that it feels. Focus on the tense parts, like your shoulders or your hands, and try to release it. Take as much time as you need." Spencer sighed in relief. This was something he could do.

"Okay, yeah, I can do that." He closed his eyes and focused in on the things he was feeling. There was a heavy tightness pulling on his shoulders, turning them to stone. His jaw in particular was clenched very tight, so much so that softening it caused pain. And his hands were stiff as well, curled into balls - and that’s when it hit him.

"Oh. I understand why you asked that now." Spencer slowly unfurled his fingers from fist to flat, revealing reddened crescent-moons on his palms. While there wasn’t much blood, it definitely was there. Spencer looked around the room in an attempt to find something he could use to clean it off.

"Here." Arthur handed Spencer a tissue which was promptly used to clear away the slick substance on his palms.

"Sorry." Spencer mumbled as he tossed the dirty tissue in the trash can beside the couch he sat on.

"No need to apologize." Arthur’s head tilted to the side slightly. "Do you tend to apologize frequently?"

"Yes. It’s one of the things people keep trying to help me unlearn. But after so many years of being told that everything is your fault, it becomes an automatic reaction to just about anything." Spencer sighed and returned his gaze to the carpet below.

"I see. It’s not uncommon for adults of childhood abuse to over-apologize." The psychiatrist nodded and scribbled down a few words on the notepad in his lap. Spencer shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

"So, what’s the game plan? How do we fix me?" Spencer wrung his hands together.

"Spencer, I need to ask you something very, very important." Arthur leaned forward in his seat, causing Spencer to flinch back slightly. He was worried about the upcoming question.

"Okay." He chewed on the insides of his cheeks nervously.

The doctor’s face turned more serious than Spencer had seen the entire time he’d been in there before asking him, "What do you think is wrong that needs fixing?"

"Oh. Um. I guess the self-harm is bad." Spencer stammered.

"You guess?"

"Yeah. I just- it’s always been so helpful for me. I know the statistics and the dangers of it, but I never ascribe them to myself because I have an extensive knowledge on the subject and am doing it to maintain a regular social and work life. At some point, it became a healthy coping mechanism to me."

"Do you still think it’s a healthy coping mechanism for you now?" Arthur questioned, serious and stone-faced.

"In general? No. But for me?" Spencer paused and took a short, nervous breath. "Honestly, I don’t see it as bad. It helps, so how bad can it really be?"

"If your friend is worried about you accidentally cutting too deep and killing yourself, I’d say it can be pretty bad, even for you. Your IQ doesn’t make you less susceptible to addiction than someone with a normal IQ."

"No, no. He was overreacting, really. It wasn’t that bad; he’s just not used to it."

"I’m about to ask you to do something hard, but I need you to try, okay?"

"I can’t promise anything." Spencer admitted.

"Just try. I want you to think about this: what if you and your friend were in switched places? What would you tell him?" Arthur asked, more soft than stern now.

"I’d tell him that he’s sick and needs help." Spencer answered immediately. Just thinking about Derek being in the same position gave him an inexplicable sadness.

"So why aren’t you saying the same to yourself?"

Exasperated, Spencer grit out, "I already explained that."

"I know. But I want you to really think about it."

"It’s simple, really. I’m not sick." Spencer knew he was being stubborn, but it was true. He may struggle with various mental health conditions, but he had kept himself together and functioning, even enough to be in the FBI. There was no way that constituted as sick.

"Spencer, I think you are."

"I’m not sick. For fucks sake, I’m a doctor, I’m not sick!" Spencer burst out angrily.

"Spencer. Look at me." Arthur commanded, waiting until Spencer’s eyes met his own before continuing. "Doctors can get sick, too."

Spencer felt his chest drop. His face slackened and his eyes had blown wide.

"Doctors can get sick." Spencer repeated, rolling the words around on his tongue. "Doctors can get sick."

"Yes. Doctors can get sick." Arthur spoke slowly and kindly, sensing Spencer’s distressing revelation.

"I don’t-" Spencer coughed to clear the up the tightening in his windpipe, "I don’t think I can keep talking about this. Is there anything else you need to know?"

"Alright, well, we can always talk about it later. Have you ever been on antidepressants before?" The doctor asked.

"They tried to put me on them when I was younger, but my mom was never able to consistently refill them. I never really took any outside of a mental hospital."

"Okay. Would you be willing to try one now?"

"I guess. I don’t like the idea of medication, but if it makes my friends worry less, I’ll do it."

"So you’d only be doing it for them?"

"I mean, yeah, that’s the only reason I’m here." Spencer laughed breathily, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Spencer, you have to want to recover. You can’t just expect healthy recovery if your heart isn’t in it."

"I know." Spencer sighed. "Maybe I’ll get there soon, alright?"

"Alright. That’s always something that can be worked on in therapy. So that’s a yes to the medication?"

"Yes, I’ll try it. Is there anything else we need to go over?"

"Before you leave, would you be willing to have your friend come back here and join us? He explained your living situation and that he is staying with you for support. I’d like to talk to you both about how to handle situations where there are either self-harm urges or relapses, but only if that’s okay with you."

"Yeah, that’s fine. And Arthur?" Spencer stopped the man at the door, hesitating for a split second before saying, "Derek’s my partner, not my friend."

"Understood. Thank you for telling me." Arthur smiled and exited the room to fetch Derek, leaving behind a heavily confused Spencer.

Spencer wasn’t sure whether he liked Arthur or not. On one hand, he was a great doctor. On the other, he was Spencer’s doctor. So, by proxy, he should hate the man. However, he was having a hard time doing that. There was something calming and down-to-earth about him that put Spencer as close to at ease as he could be there.

The door squeaked as it re-opened and Arthur entered the room with Derek in tow. Spencer gave Derek a wry smile as he took a seat beside him on the couch. Derek’s hand started to reach for Spencer’s before stopping, Derek looking up to meet his eyes. There was a question there, wondering if it was okay to show affection. Spencer smiled back, a nonverbal understanding passing between them. Derek continued his path to Spencer’s hand, twining their fingers together with a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"So, you two live together, yes?" Arthur’s voice broke through the moment, sending Spencer spiraling back into the uncomfortable reality of their surroundings.

"I’ve been staying with him to keep an eye on him. And because we like spending our time together." Derek answered, squeezing Spencer’s hand again.

"Then you two are close, I presume?"

"Yes. We work together and have been friends for many years. This," Spencer gestured between the two with his free hand, "is a fairly new development."

"I see." Arthur smiled wistfully, a faraway look entering his eyes. "You both remind me of me and my late husband, many years ago."

"Is that a good thing?" Derek asked, trying to break the nervous tension in the room. It worked, Arthur barking out a laugh.

"Oh, yes. I mean, we had our times, but yes. It was that kind of joy and fulfillment I see between the two of you together." Arthur shook his head quickly as if erasing a thought. "But anyway. Derek, I brought you in here to discuss Spencer’s self-harming behaviors."

"Okay. What part are we talking about, exactly?" Derek asked. Spencer sat next to him, silent. He felt inferior in a way. Having Derek and a doctor discussing his problems together felt wrong, even though necessary.

"I’ve come to see that this has been a very long-held coping mechanism for Spencer. What we need to establish before anything else is that we can’t expect Spencer to get better immediately. With something like self-harm and it’s addictive qualities - especially given how long Spencer has depended on it - there will likely be relapses." Arthur explained.

"So you’re saying that I need to be prepared for another situation where he hurts himself?" Derek inquired. Spencer fought with everything he had not to flinch. This conversation was wrong, so very wrong.

"Yes, exactly. Now, because of this, we are going to go about his recovery in a way that may seem confusing at first, but has helped long-term self-harmers exponentially." Arthur’s brows furrowed. "Do you know what harm reduction is, Derek?"

"Um, no, I can’t say I do." Derek glanced over at Spencer. "Do you, pretty boy?"

"Mhm." Spencer simply hummed, words struggling to find their way to the surface. He had a sinking feeling that Derek was not going to like what Arthur was about to propose.

"Harm reduction is a technique we use to slowly decrease the damage that self-harm does. This includes making sure the house is stocked with bandages and wound-care supplies, and not taking away his sharps." Arthur raised his hand to stop the oncoming frustration from Derek. "I know it sounds like a horrible idea, but I promise you, it works. We already know that Spencer will likely relapse, so the best thing we can do is make sure he is as safe as possible with it."

"Nothing about self-harm is safe!" Derek snapped. This time, Spencer couldn’t hold back the flinch. He knew this would happen, knew Derek would be angry.

"While that may be true, there are safer ways to go about the process. If Spencer relapses, would you rather him do it with a dirty tool and no proper wound care items, or would you rather make sure the risk of infection decreases and his overall health doesn’t suffer more than necessary?" This made Derek freeze, Arthur’s words sinking in.

"Okay. I see. But there’s got to be more to it, right?" Derek’s anger had morphed into skepticism.

"There is. I’m going to give Spencer some worksheets to fill out, which should help. This includes figuring out what his triggers are, the best methods for at the very least delaying injury, along with creating a safe space, and going over the logistics of the activity, such as where he harms himself, how, and why. It also helps to make small changes, such as making smaller injuries than usual or less injuries than usual. The small changes will help lead to bigger changes in an easier way than going cold-turkey would."

"Spencer, is this something you could do? Do you think it would make recovering easier?" Derek asked.

"I don’t know. Probably. I just need to come to peace with the idea of letting it go forever." He swallowed harshly. The thought was terrifying.

"Alright, I think this has been a very productive meeting. I have one more question to finish getting a perspective of the situation with everyone, and then I’ll get you your coping mechanism papers and prescription. Sound good?" Arthur inquired, suddenly more serious again.

"Yeah, that works. What’s the question?" Derek replied for Spencer, noting the shaking in his hands and clenching of his jaw.

"I’m going to need full honesty from you, Spencer, okay?" Arthur said pointedly, only continuing when Spencer hummed an agreement. "When was the last time you cut yourself?"

Spencer’s heart stopped. This wasn’t a question he was expecting, and definitely not one he wanted to answer. He was already disappointed in himself and wasn’t sure if he could handle Derek’s disappointment or anger as well. But he had to do this if he wanted anything to change. Bracing himself, he breathed in through his nose, nausea roiling his stomach.

"Last night." Spencer whispered, voice uncomfortably loud in the silent room. He felt Derek stiffen next to him.

"I thought you were going to talk to me when you felt that way." Derek breathed out, anger and sadness laced between the words.

"I’m sorry. I had to. I couldn’t not do it." Spencer kept his gaze locked on the floor as Derek and Arthur processed the words.

"Thank you for being honest, Spencer." Arthur broke the silence. "Derek, I know it’s tempting to be angry with this, but it’s important to remember that Spencer is still in the early steps of recovery. This is something you will have to come to terms with, that he cannot immediately stop."

"I know he can’t stop immediately, but I don’t understand this part. Why was he able to come to me and tell me when he felt that way one night but another he couldn’t?" Derek questioned, and Spencer could hear the rising frustration in his voice. He sank further back in the couch with a new pang of anxiety stabbing his chest, the wave crashing over him and pulling him under. The world was getting blurry again.

"Recovery is complex. Spencer may have been in a more stable place at that time, or the circumstances may have encouraged opening up more. This time, he was faced with something extremely anxiety-inducing and couldn’t handle talking about it for whatever reason that may be, and so a relapse happened. We just need to be patient with him and this process."

"That makes sense… kind of." Derek said. "What am I supposed to do if he relapses? Do I ask to check them to make sure he’s not in any danger or am I supposed to pretend like it never happened?"

"Good question. Before I can answer, I need information from Spencer." Arthur explained, gearing up to ask Spencer yet another question. "This is an uncomfortable thing to talk about but important nonetheless. When you cut yourself, what depth is typical for you? Do you frequently have wounds that require stitching or closing by things like steri-strips?"

Spencer winced uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. No matter how many times he spoke of his self-harm aloud, he would never get used to it. It was like undressing in front of someone, putting the worst and innermost secrets on display. It was horrible.

"It’s not uncommon for me to use wound closures." Spencer mumbled evasively. The fog was closing in further, and the room was more color than shape.

"Does that mean you use them most of the time when you harm?"

"Yes." Spencer cleared his throat loudly before quickly adding, "But not always. Sometimes it’s only into the second layer. It’s not always bad." For some reason, he felt the need to defend his actions.

"Not bad? Spencer, I saw it. That isn’t ‘not bad’. You scared the shit out of me, pretty boy!" Derek burst out, seemingly unable to keep in his emotions any longer.

"I know, and I’m sorry, Derek. I really am. You never should have had to see that. But you haven’t seen the full scope of how bad it can get, so you’ll have to trust me when I say that this is definitely not that bad." Spencer avoided eye contact with the other men in the room.

"Spencer, I think you know that categorizing something such as self-harm as ‘not that bad’ or ‘really bad’ is completely inaccurate. It doesn’t matter how many times you cut, how big the wound is, if it leaves scars or not; it’s still self-harm, and it’s still a very serious situation." Dr. Arthur reminded him, voice irritatingly gentle.

"I know that, okay? I know everything you’re telling me! I’ve seen it all, read it all, studied it all. I know how these things work! It’s just not the same. It doesn’t apply to me like it does to others!" Spencer couldn’t stand the stillness anymore, jumping off of the couch and moving to stand beside the window overlooking the parking lot below while clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly.

"Doctors get sick too, remember?" Arthur reminded him. Spencer wished he could get out of there- he would much rather jump out of the window than engage in this conversation any longer.

"Yeah, yeah. Doctors get sick." Spencer began to mock him before realizing what he was doing and what the words meant. "Doctors get sick." The last statement exited him as a whisper. It had already clicked in his head before, so why did it feel like it was re-clicking, like this was the first time he’d heard it?

"That is correct. I want you to imagine this: An oncologist who has worked in the field for many of his adult years is diagnosed with a cancer that has a thirty percent survival rate. That’s not a good prognosis. But this oncologist has seen cancer patients with less than five percent survival rates. They’ve seen the worst it can get, so why should they worry about themselves? But seeing the worst doesn’t negate the fact that they still have a devastating prognosis. That doctor can still grieve the fact that he is potentially in grave danger. 

"You’ve seen the worst of the worst in your job and in your life in general. You know how dangerous and scary self-harm can become. But that extreme danger doesn’t take away from the danger you face in your situation. Comparing does nothing. You’ve probably heard a metaphor for this before, a pretty popular one - a person who drowns in 4ft deep water is just as dead as someone who drowns in 40ft deep water."

Spencer returned to the couch, walking numbly and falling onto it like deadweight. He couldn’t find the words to answer, couldn’t figure out how to speak through the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions in his chest. He could feel Derek’s eyes on him. He shivered, hating the weight of Derek’s sadness- a sadness caused by him.

"Yeah, that’s what my mom tells me." He mumbled. All of his energy was gone, sucked away by the invisible force of guilt. Why did he have to be so hard to deal with, why did he hurt the people he loved the most just by being himself? Spencer squeezed his eyes shut as a new mantra played loudly in his ears- everyone would be better off without you here. He knew it was wrong, but… well, did he? Did he really think it was wrong?

"What are you thinking, Spencer?" Arthur asked, words Spencer was barely able to pick up on because his thoughts were so loud, too loud, too loud to even speak. Instead of explaining, he simply shook his head. Hadn’t they been getting somewhere? What happened, and why was he suddenly feeling suicidal again? This was what he was afraid of, why he didn’t want to go to therapy. The more he stirs up, the more he changes things, the worse he gets.

"Alright, well, that’s about all the time we have. I’m going to write you a prescription for an antidepressant. I’ll need to see you in three weeks about that, but I’d like to refer you to my colleague, Poppy Strine. She’s an excellent therapist and is trained to work with people who deal with issues such as trauma, suicidal ideation, self-harm, and the way they affect autistic people particularly. I recommend you see her two or three times a week to begin with, but you can always lessen that as time goes on and things mellow out."

"If they mellow out." Spencer sighed under his breath. He was too quiet for anyone to hear, but the words were already out in the world. It was up to him to change things, sure, but he wasn’t sure what he could and couldn’t do in the long run. Would he ever get over the desire to hurt himself when things go wrong? Spencer discreetly pressed his fist down onto his thigh and felt himself drift away to the drone of voices around him.

He wasn’t sure how long he was gone for when Derek laid a soft hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly. Spencer knew that the man was speaking, but he couldn’t understand it; everything was muddled and he felt like he was underwater. All Spencer could do was blink slowly at Derek. Derek seemed to understand what was happening almost instantly. He watched as his partner stood up to retrieve several pieces of paper from the psychiatrist before slowly leading Spencer through the door. Spencer gave a short wave to Arthur, the only thanks he could offer at that moment.

Before he knew it, Spencer was in the passenger’s seat 0f Derek’s car and on the way back to his apartment. The world came into view again, and Spencer could pick up on Derek’s desire to speak with him. Spencer could talk now if he wanted to. He was able to do so, able to think more clearly. He really didn’t want to, but he owed it to Derek.

"I’m sorry." Spencer whispered, throat scratchy. Derek’s head swiveled to look over at him and did a quick scan on his state.

"What do you remember last?" Derek asked, skirting around the apology.

"Sitting in the room. You leading me out the door." Spencer bit the insides of his cheeks, angry with himself. "I’m sorry."

"Spencer, stop apologizing. I’m serious." Derek huffed and wiped a hand over his face.

"Are you mad at me?" Spencer’s voice was small and nervous.

"Shit, Spencer, I don’t know!" Derek snapped. Spencer flinched and Derek immediately backpedaled. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m not mad, I’m just…"

"Disappointed?" Spencer finished.

"No! Why do you keep trying to convince yourself that I’m feeling negative emotions towards you?"

"I just-" He breathed in deeply, "That’s how love works, right? There’s always some sort of resentment or anger there."

"No, that’s not how love works. Love is supposed to be pure and kind, not agonizing. You’re supposed to feel safe, you’re supposed to be with people who remind you of your worth, not diminish it." Derek frowned. "I hate how skewed your views on things are. I wish I could go back and show little Spencer how amazing he is."

Spencer didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to think. What was he supposed to do, rewire his brain? He knew it wasn’t impossible, but it was improbable. He’d lived so long with these beliefs and cemented neuropathways that it would be hell to try re-wiring them.

"But as I was saying before, I’m not mad, I’m sad. I’m sad that this is what your life is. I’m sad that you feel so bad you need to hurt yourself. I’m just sad." Derek’s voice cracked at the end of his statement.

"Derek… it’s okay. I’m okay." Spencer knew how pathetic his answer was, but what else was he supposed to say?

"No, it’s really not." Derek’s fingers were gripping the wheel so hard the knuckles were turning pale with pressure. Spencer reached over and briefly laid a hand on Derek’s in an attempt at comfort.

The rest of the ride was silent. Neither man knew what to say. Spencer felt horrible, and he was sure Derek did as well. It didn’t take a profiler to read the pain etched on his face, to notice the way he blinked rapidly and how his muscles stiffened. Worst of all, Spencer knew it was his own fault. When people get too close, he ruins them. He ruins just about everything, if he’s being honest. Maybe, he thought, it would just be better to go back to how things were before. Cut Derek out of his personal life, return to sleeping alone and doing whatever he needed to do to stay sane, whether it ended with him alive or not.

Spencer is still rolling the ideas over in his head when the car comes to a stop. He blinked harshly and brought himself back to the present. Now was not the time to be considering this, not when Derek was sitting right next to him. He clenched his fists, relishing the sting it provided.

"Pretty boy, don’t do that. Please." Derek’s hand reached over and rearranged his hand so his fingers were interlaced with the man’s instead of damaging his palms. Spencer felt a burst of hot anger surge through him.

"Can you stop doing that? I know what I need, and that’s what I needed. Just leave me alone, will you?" Spencer snapped at Derek, ripping his hand away. Before allowing Derek to reply, he jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He was halfway up the stairs to his apartment before he realized what he had done.

"Fuck." Spencer mumbled, and then a new anger replaced the old. "Fuck!" He yelled, flinching at the loud reverberation throughout the stairway. Spencer felt a sob catch in his throat and his legs felt too weak to hold him. He slid down the wall, sitting on a step and curling up in a stiff ball.

"Spencer?" A panicked, distant voice called for him. Derek. This only made the pain in his chest grow stronger, the darkness spread further. He didn’t understand why the man kept coming back. The sobs that were caught in Spencer’s throat finally released themselves. By the time Derek reached him, Spencer was a weeping mess.

"Spencer?" A warm, familiar voice wrapped around him like a blanket. Spencer only sniffled in reply, knowing that opening his mouth meant releasing more sobs. "Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad. It’s okay."

Spencer cried even harder. He should be mad at him. Why wasn’t he mad at him? If Spencer was mad at himself, what made Derek so willing to forgive? Why should he forgive a boyfriend who continues to push him away and wishes to be separated so he can just kill himself already?

Wait. Spencer breathed in harshly. Kill himself? He shouldn’t be surprised at the thought, not really. He’d been feeling it for a while. This was the first time he’d acknowledged it, though. It set him off kilter, to admit to himself that he wants people to hate him just so he can off himself without the guilt of punishing loved ones.

"You-" Spencer’s voice was rough and jagged at the edges. "You should be." It came out as a gasp. He was still hyperventilating. He needed to stop before he passed out.

"What? Why should I be mad?" Derek’s brows furrowed.

"Because I’m- I’m impossible. I’m difficult." Spencer hiccuped. "And because, no matter how much better I think I feel, reality comes spinning back."

"What do you mean? I’m not quite following."

"Fantasy: everything is getting better. Reality: everything comes crashing down in the end. Fantasy: the good things last. Reality: nothing good ever lasts." Spencer’s voice was just as shaky as his hands were, jittering like he had just drank several coffee cups.

"Spencer, that’s not really a healthy thought pattern to follow." Derek reached out to hold his hand, but Spencer pulled away with a sniff.

"Don’t. Don’t hold my hand." Spencer said, harsher than he initially intended.

"Why not? I want to be here for you, why aren’t you letting me help you?" Derek was becoming exasperated, Spencer could tell.

"Because I don’t want to be here anymore!" Spencer shouted, anger boiling over. Anger at himself, at the world, at the whole fucking universe.

"Spence." Derek’s eyes widened as far as they would go. "You don’t mean-"

"Yes, I do. That is exactly what I mean." Spencer grit out.

"But you’ve been doing so much better! You saw the psychiatrist, you’ve talked with the team, you’ve come to me when you needed help. What happened?" Derek was crying now.

"I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I just know that everything is too much and there’s this dark hole in my chest that keeps sucking away all the good things and it always finds its way back, no matter how good things get. I feel so empty and exhausted, Derek." Spencer broke down again, devolving into ugly sobs.

"I know. I know, baby." Derek’s voice was thick with emotion. "I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry." Spencer felt Derek’s arms wrap around his shaking frame.

"Stop. You need to stop." Spencer pushed him away and stood abruptly, swaying at the sudden movement. "You need to get away from me. Far, far away. I only ever hurt people. You’re too good for this, Derek. You deserve better." Spencer wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt at comfort.

"Spencer, it doesn’t matter whether I stay or go - I’ll be just as hurt leaving as I might be staying. You have to hear me when I say I’m in this for the long haul. I’m not going to let you push me away like this." Derek huffed, following him up off the floor. "I absolutely will not be leaving so that you can feel better about killing yourself. I’m going to stay here and help you through, because that’s what you need. You need help, not to be left alone. Deep down, you know that. I know you do."

Spencer paused. He did, didn’t he? He knew it, but did he want it? That was the real question. The trick was in the process. Would he be able to survive for long enough to begin to sufficiently heal? He didn’t think so. But, he thought, why not try? He had one chance at this life. One chance and then it’s gone. Why not try to make the best of it?

"I do. It’s just not that easy." Despite all of the thoughts running through his head, he could only form simple sentences. "I want to die, and I want to live. And I don’t know how to do any of this. I don’t know if I can survive it."

"You may not know if you can, but I know. I know you, and I know how fucking strong you are. I know how brilliant you are, how hard you work for things. So I know with absolute certainty that you can beat this shit. You just have to be willing to put in the work. Think of it as a hard case, if that helps. Deciphering details and finding leads can be hard as hell, but the payoff of saving lives at the end is worth it. Saving your life is worth it." Derek looked at him softly.

"Fuck. Why do you have to make me want to be good to myself?" Spencer sighed heavily and earned a snort of amusement from Derek.

"Because I see how worthy of love and kindness you are. Simple as that." Derek opened his arms wide. "C’mere, pretty boy."

Spencer couldn’t help it - he let himself collapse into Derek, let the man’s arms fold around him protectively. He was still crying, but not as hard anymore. From the shaking in Derek’s chest, Spencer guessed he was crying as well.

"I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. Sometimes I just get these quick onsets of despair." Spencer sniffled.

"Don’t apologize. I’d rather you talk to me than keep it inside." Derek stroked Spencer’s hair and he let out a soft sigh. "Can you look at me for a minute?"

Spencer raised his head from Derek’s chest and was met with the man’s hand as it cupped his cheek. Spencer’s lips twitched upward as Derek used his thumb to rid his face of the tears collected there.

"I still don’t know everything about how to help you. Far from it. But I’ve been working on it. I want to be able to help you with everything you need, whatever that may be." Derek breathed in deeply before continuing. "And I know that maintaining relationships when one person is in a bad place is hard and can be a bad idea. So I want you to know that you can stop me at any time. If it gets to be too much, just say the word. I never want to get in the way of your healing."

"You’ve done nothing but progress my healing, Derek. I doubt I’ll ever want you to leave. But I can’t promise I won’t try to push you away again like I just did. My brain is a confusing place, even for me. I need you to know that if I get to be too much, you can call it quits. I’d understand fully." Spencer replied. His face leaned into Derek’s touch, the warmth keeping him steady.

"I think we just gave each other an out for the relationship." Derek laughed. "Can you believe that?"

"I guess that means we’re both okay with being together, then." Spencer laughed with him, voice strained by tears but amused nonetheless.

"I guess so, huh?" Derek turned serious again. Spencer stood still as Derek’s eyes searched his own, an unknown emotion filling them deeper than he had ever seen.

"You okay?" Spencer asked, slightly concerned.

"I’m great, actually." One side of Derek’s mouth lifted. "I’m glad we’re both on the same page."

"Me too?" Spencer phrased it as more of a question, still confused over Derek’s intense eyes. Before he could ask what was going on, Derek’s other hand reached up and slid around to the back of his neck. He leaned in instinctively, now only mere inches away from Derek.

"I’m really glad you’re alive, Spencer." Derek smiled softly, a new tone creeping into his voice. "I’m really glad you survived all of your hardest days. And I’m so glad that you trust me with holding your hand during more of those hard times. I’m so glad that you’re here and that I’m here and that the world, for whatever reason, threw the two of us together. And you know why I’m so glad about all of that?"

"Um. I’m not sure." Spencer felt his face flushing under the warmth of Derek’s exhales and the softness of his speech.

"I’m so happy about it because I love you. And I don’t know if it’s too soon to say that, or if it’s bad timing, but I just needed to-"

Spencer cut Derek off with a kiss full of passion, a kiss much more suited for a private room than a stairway. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and pulled even closer. Maybe it was bad timing, but Spencer couldn’t care less.

"I love you, too. I love you so much." Spencer whispered after breaking the kiss. Instead of pulling back, he stayed where he was, opting to pull Derek into a hug. Spencer smiled into the man’s shoulder as he felt arms wrap around him, one hand settled on his lower back. After a few moments, Derek cleared his throat.

"Not that I want this moment to end or anything - because I definitely do not - but we should probably go to your apartment instead of making out in the very public stairway." Derek was grinning when Spencer pulled away. Spencer smiled back as Derek reached out to swipe the loose hair out of his eyes.

"That’s probably a good idea." Spencer agreed, but neither man moved. They stood silently for what could have been hours but was most likely only minutes. The only reason the two snapped out of their trance was the recognition of a child’s voice echoing from the bottom of the stairs.

Spencer looked at Derek, and, without a word, the two began to make their way up the stairs and to Spencer’s apartment. Spencer wasn’t sure what lay ahead. He wasn’t sure whether a relationship was the best idea. He wasn’t sure if he could really do this, really fix himself up. But if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure of just about anything these days. Whatever was to come would be both good and bad, filled with highs and lows. But that was okay. For once, the idea of the lows wasn’t as scary. He had Derek now, someone who loved him and was willing to walk through fire for him - and he would do the very same thing for him. They were bound together and would be facing life as one now.

"I’m really glad I survived." Spencer admitted to Derek softly as he opened the door to his apartment and the two walked inside. He turned around and met Derek’s eyes as he said with a grateful smile, "I’m so glad I survived long enough to get here to you."

Chapter Text

The room was dark and cold, just like Spencer liked it. The only noise around was coming from the sleeping man beside him, the snores soft but heavy. The feeling was back again. It was too quiet, and when things were too quiet, Spencer’s mind tended to make up for the lack of input.

He wanted to roll over, but he was wrapped in Derek’s arms. Not that he was complaining, though. He did, however, feel guilty for letting his mind wander to that dark place when Derek was right there. Spencer was angry. Why was he still coming back to this? He had felt much better after talking with Derek, so why was he struggling with suicidal ideation again? Logically, he understood that it most likely stemmed from the conversation with the psychiatrist and the things he stirred up. But even knowing so, he still felt painfully weak. Weak and stupid.

If Derek wasn’t here, he would be making his way to the bathroom where his coping mechanism lived. Spencer couldn’t tell if the inability to do so was a good or bad thing. But he could still go, he realized. Sure, Derek would be disappointed. Was the disappointment from Derek worth the relief he would feel from hurting himself? He wasn’t sure anymore.

Through the racing thoughts in his head, Spencer heard one louder than the rest. It was coming from the very back, where his logical thoughts usually came from. He wasn’t used to them being louder than the disordered ones. This time, though, it screamed at him. Screamed at him to wake the man beside him, so he could have someone to ride the urges out with. He probably should. Spencer knew that. Especially after seeing Derek’s reaction to finding out about his latest relapse.

"Derek." Spencer whispered and turned to face him, letting out a small sigh of relief when the man stirred.

"Spence?" Derek replied, voice gravelly and deep with sleep.

"Hey." That was all he had to say. Derek knew why he had been woken up.

"What’s wrong, baby?" Derek pulled him closer protectively.

"I feel…" Spencer paused. What did he feel exactly? "I feel bad."

"Bad in the ‘I feel the urge to do something bad but I don’t really want to’ way?" Derek’s lips ghosted his forehead. It was a simple act, but it sent Spencer to tears.

"Yeah." Spencer sniffled, holding back a sob.

"I’m sorry, Spencer. What can I do?" Derek ran a hand up and down Spencer’s arm in a gentle, calming motion. Spencer nuzzled close to Derek, face pressed against his chest.

"I don’t know." Spencer huffed. "I just don’t want to make you sad or disappointed."

"Oh, Spencer. You are absolutely not making me disappointed. This is a hard road you’re going down, and I recognize that it’s going to take quite a while to travel it. There’s bound to be some bumps on the way, but that’s okay. You just have to keep moving forwards. And that’s what you’re doing now, by talking to me." Derek spoke softly. "If anything, I’m proud of you. I know it’s hard to talk about these things and I’m glad you trust me enough to let me in. So no, I’m not disappointed. I’m so damn proud of you. You’re so much stronger than you realize."

Spencer broke down after Derek spoke the word ‘stronger’. He didn’t feel strong, not in the least. He was crying because he couldn’t hurt himself. What about that was strong? But, Derek never lied to him. What if he was right? What if he really was stronger than he knew? Spencer breathed in shakily, trying to make up for the breathlessness of the anxiety that had unfurled inside him.

"Thank you." Spencer’s voice broke, forcing him to clear his throat before continuing. "I love you, Derek." He pulled back from his hiding spot and planted a soft kiss on the man’s lips. Spencer could taste the salt, and he knew Derek could too, but it didn’t matter. The salty tang of the tears was a reminder of how strong their bond was.

"I love you too, my pretty boy." Derek smiled, and Spencer could feel a warm exhale of breath against his face. "Are you able to keep yourself safe if I step out to grab a melatonin pill for you? I’ll only be gone for a minute, if that."

Spencer nodded. Under the covers, he felt safe, especially knowing that Derek was right around the corner. As long as the man was awake and present, he knew he could manage. He smiled as Derek placed a quick kiss to his forehead before getting out of bed, flicking a lamp on, and speed-walking out of the room.

Under the safety of the covers, Spencer allowed himself to run his fingers across his arms. He had chosen to wear a short-sleeved shirt to bed, something he had been doing more often these days, especially since promising himself not to relapse - at least, not in a noticeable spot. He had to be more careful now that everyone knew. Spencer followed the ridges on his skin, reminded of the reasons behind each one. Stupid fucking eidetic memory.

"Hey, I’ve got the pill. I brought some water as well." Derek walked back into the room, producing a cup and a pill. Spencer sat up, pulling his hand away from the scars.

"Thanks. Really." Spencer accepted them with gratitude, swallowing the pill and downing the entire cup of water. Derek took the empty cup and set it on the nightstand before sitting on the bed. Spencer’s hand subconsciously found its way back to his arm and began to trace over the lines etched there.

"Hey, what’s going on there?" Derek asked, placing a hand on Spencer’s roaming one.

"I remember each and every one of them, you know?" Spencer laughed bitterly. "I remember the reasons behind them, the way that it happened, every fucking detail for every single one. My memory may be good for the job, but it sure as hell isn’t working out well for me here." Derek remained silent, opening a window for him to keep talking.

"I’m just sick of being reminded of every horrific thing that happened to me whenever I see myself. And, honestly, I know my skin is disgusting. I know that it makes me undesirable and ugly. It makes me ruined. And I hate it."

"Spencer, you aren’t ruined, and you’re definitely not ugly." Derek smiled softly at Spencer, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Remember what I said the first time I saw them?" Spencer raised an eyebrow at him.

"Of course you do, you have an eidetic memory." Derek laughed. "Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I guess it was technically more rhetorical than anything, but anyway. I told you that they aren’t ugly, they’re signs of the fights you won, the shit you dealt with and the fact that you were stronger than all of it. You are in front of me today, and with or without scars, you are the most amazing person I have ever met. They don’t ruin you, they just tell your story."

"But wouldn’t they be signs that I wasn’t strong? If I had to do that, then am I really any strong at all?" Spencer ran his fingers over Derek’s knuckles.

"No, it wouldn’t be a sign you aren’t strong. You are a living, breathing example of strength and bravery. I wish you could see that." Derek smiled sadly.

"Me too." Spencer sighed.

“Do you want to try to lay back down? Hopefully the pill will help you get back to sleep.” Derek asked. “But if you would rather stay up, that’s no problem at all. You tell me.”

“I’m okay to try going back to sleep.” Spencer sniffled and shifted under the covers, leaning back to rest against the mattress and burying his face in a pillow. He could feel the bed dip when Derek climbed in with him. Automatically, as if on instinct, Spencer traded the softness of the pillow on his cheek to the warm steadiness that was the man laying beside him.

“If you need anything,” Derek began, “and I mean anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He planted a soft kiss on the top of Spencer’s head.

“Okay.” Spencer nodded slightly, voice already sluggish with sleepiness. “Goodnight Der, love you.”

“Goodnight and sleep tight, my pretty boy. I love you, too.” Derek’s soft murmur was the last thing that registered in Spencer’s mind before he was pulled under by sleep.

—-

“Derek?” Spencer yawned, stumbling out of the bedroom. He had woken up with the other side of the bed empty and immediately went to find the man.

“In here!” Derek’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “Just making some coffee.”

“That sounds amazing right about now.” Spencer entered the room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I figured it would.” Derek smiled and turned to face Spencer, and Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He asked incredulously.

“What, do I look that bad?” Derek’s hand landed over his heart, a mock expression of shock on his face. The half-circles under his eyes were darker than usual, and a sense of exhaustion hung from his every limb.

“I’m serious, Derek. Did you sleep?” Spencer huffed.

“Well,” Derek hesitated, “Not really. I wanted to stay up in case you needed me.” He admitted softly.

“You can’t do that!” Spencer exclaimed, hands flying up in frustration.

“I did.” Derek shrugged.

“But, Derek… that’s really bad for you. You can’t force yourself to stay awake whenever I have a hard night. It’s not sustainable.” Spencer took a step forward, reaching out to grab one of the man’s hands.

“I know, it’s just hard to sleep knowing how much you’re struggling.” Derek averted his gaze, shame written all over his features.

“I know, I do. I completely understand. But I’m capable of taking care of myself, okay? There may be times when I need you, but you have to trust me to be safe otherwise.” Spencer squeezed Derek’s hand.

“Spencer, I just-” Derek began to choke up. “I just love you so much and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to help you because I wasn’t there.”

“But you were there. You got up when I needed you. I just need you to extend some tentative trust to me, for both of our sakes.” Spencer pulled Derek into a hug, and the man immediately melted into him.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Derek whispered against Spencer’s ear, causing him to shiver.

“Yes.” Spencer laughed lightly, but he couldn’t focus on the humor when Derek’s lips were right there and making their way down to his neck and stopping at the curve just where-

“Derek.” Spencer breathed out.

“Hm? What is it, baby?” Derek murmured, voice vibrating against his neck. Spencer felt his skin heat up. Jolts of electricity were shooting through his veins, and it was the most glorious feeling Spencer could ever experience.

“Don’t we have work?” Spencer asked with a soft laugh.

“Yes.” Derek grinned against Spencer’s skin as he subconsciously craned his neck to allow more room. “But it doesn’t seem like you want to stop.”

“No. No, I really don’t.” Spencer sighed and melted further into Derek.

“Too bad, though. I need to shower.” Derek pulled back, chuckling when Spencer whined and tried to follow him.

“Well,” Spencer started, feeling bold, “So do I.”

Derek’s eyebrows popped up, and Spencer immediately realized what he had said.

“I’m sorry, that was really inappropriate, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry-” Spencer’s backtracking was cut off when Derek pressed his lips to his own.

“Don’t apologize for speaking your mind, my pretty boy. It’s not inappropriate to make a comment like that to your boyfriend. But I do have to ask, are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“Maybe? Only if you’re okay with what I said.” Spencer shivered when a nervous cold chill ran through his body.

“Are you sure? You seem anxious.” Derek’s head tilted to the side, studying Spencer.

“Damn it, Derek, stop profiling me and get your ass in the shower.” Spencer huffed. He grabbed Derek’s hand and all but pulled the chuckling man with him to the primary bathroom; he never used it, but it had a nice walk-in shower. Plus, he felt safe enough with Derek to push the thoughts of possible intruders out of his mind.

“But the coffee will get cold, I haven’t finished it!” Derek teased.

“Forget the coffee. I’ll make you more later.” Spencer tugged off his shirt swiftly.

“Woah there, Spence. You can slow down, we have a bit of time.”

“I don’t.” Spencer huffed and turned the water on in the shower, the spray finding its way to his bare chest. “Look, I’m already wet!”

“Spencer, what… did you just make a dirty joke?” Derek was taken aback.

“No, definitely not! What was dirty about that? It was a totally innocent comment about the fact of my current state.” Spencer motioned to the droplets on his bare skin. He couldn’t keep the smirk off of his face as he watched emotions flitting through Derek at a rapid pace. Then, as soon as he chuckled, Spencer took a step forward, closer to the man. That sobered him up.

“Really, Spencer, are you sure about this? I know you had a bad night, and I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to.” Derek breathed out, so close that Spencer could feel his breath on his face.

“Yes, Derek. It’s just a shower.” But they both knew it was more than a shower. Spencer fingered the bottom of Derek’s t-shirt, eyes asking if he could remove it.

“Okay. Go ahead, then.” Derek smiled softly. Spencer pulled the shirt up, fingers skimming the lean muscle on the man’s abdomen. Derek helped Spencer get the shirt over his head. Now that the two were shirtless, a new sort of flame erupted; the kind of burn that explodes when the kindling is lit. Spencer gasped as Derek gripped his hips tightly and pulled him closer, lowering his head so his mouth lined up with Spencer’s ears.

“I think we should probably get in.” Derek whispered, eyes flitting over to the condensation forming on the mirror. All Spencer could do was nod his head shakily. A new feeling was boiling up next to the desire, and he wasn’t sure what it was besides the fact that it didn’t feel quite right. He decided to ignore it, because fuck anything that tried to ruin this moment for him.

Spencer let his hands travel down to Derek’s sweatpants’ waistband and pull downward on them softly while Derek peppered his shoulder and neck with ghosts of kisses. The flame was growing for Spencer, and he could tell that Derek felt the same way. The man shimmied the rest of the way out of his sweats and boxers and immediately moved to work Spencer’s off. A deep hum shot from his throat as Derek’s fingertips touched the skin around his waistband. He couldn’t think of anything else as those damn fingertips continued skimming across his skin, lower and lower until there were no clothes left.

This was when the reality of the situation set in. Spencer wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly self-conscious. He felt exposed - too exposed. And Derek, well… Derek was the epitome of confidence, which definitely didn’t help his nerves. That dangerous feeling was growing, and Spencer did his best to swallow it down.

“Don’t hide that stunning body from me, baby. Every inch of you is so beautiful.” Derek softened, noticing the discomfort on Spencer’s face.

“I just… I feel inferior. You’re so attractive and muscle-y and I’m tiny, I’ve got no muscle, and I’ve got scars, and-” Spencer stopped when Derek’s lips captured his own.

“Don’t. That may be the way you see yourself, but it’s not the way I see you. So if the main worry is what other people perceive you as, then you don’t need to worry. Not with me, never with me.” Derek broke the kiss to connect their foreheads, eyes closed and both breathing harder than before.

“Okay.” Spencer breathed. He took slow, tentative steps backwards until the back of his ankle hit the lip of the shower entrance. “We should probably get in, we don’t want to be late for work.”

“Good idea.” Derek smirked as he stepped closer to Spencer, forcing him to move back against the shower wall. Water was dripping into his eyes and trailing down his bare skin, and Spencer watched as droplets glistened off of Derek’s chest.

“You are so attractive.” Spencer smiled and recaptured Derek’s lips. He could hear - and feel - a murmur back, something along the lines of ‘says you’, but he wasn’t paying much attention to anything besides the feeling of skin on skin.

Spencer allowed himself to drift away into the kiss, absolutely enraptured with the man in front of him. The way Derek kissed him so deeply sent tingles all the way down his body, akin to the droplets of water skirting down his sides. He had gotten a sense of this side of Derek plenty of times before, but this was different. Something about the way they clutched onto each other felt much more intense than the usual gentle touches they shared. Spencer felt a mix between moan and sigh rumble deep in his throat. He heard Derek return it, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this safe around another person when all layers were removed.

“Turn around, baby, and let me wash your hair for you.” Derek pulled back, laughing when Spencer tried to follow his lips.

“I’m totally content with what we are already doing.” Spencer flattened a hand on Derek’s chest. He could feel the racing heart beneath it. The thought that he was the reason a heart would jump for joy was overwhelmingly beautiful.

“I know, I am too, but we have to go to work soon.” Derek pressed a quick kiss to Spencer’s forehead. “Let me take care of you, my pretty boy.”

“Oka-” Spencer didn’t even have time to reply before Derek was spinning him around, so his back was against the man’s chest. Spencer felt his breathing become ragged. He could feel a tingling sensation throughout his entire body, and it was starting to cause a more physical reaction now. And if he was feeling correctly, so was Derek.

“I thought you were going to wash my hair?” Spencer teased. He leaned his head back to rest on Derek’s shoulder as he looked up to meet the other man’s eyes. A primal hunger rested in his eyes, one that sent tremors throughout Spencer’s body.

“Is that really what you want to do? I’ve noticed a development in your body language.” Derek’s hands came to rest on Spencer’s hips, tight enough to elicit a groan from him.

“Yes, well, I could say the same about you.” Spencer reached down to grasp the hands around his waist, moving them slowly further down his body.

“Spence, are you sure? I don’t want you to feel forced because of my teasing.” Derek stilled, resisting the tug of Spencer’s hands.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure, Der. I want you to begin learning about the last part of me that you haven’t yet.”

“I’ll always enjoy discovering things about you, my pretty boy.” Derek leaned down and pressed his lips to Spencer’s shoulder in a lingering kiss at the same time as he resumed his journey downward.

Spencer was on fire. Every part of him burned with desire, and every touch from Derek was adding fuel. If fingers on skin was enough to get him this excited, he was afraid he would explode when they reached their destination. They were so close, below his belly button now, and Spencer sighed. He craned his neck to allow Derek to pepper kisses there. And then, at long last, Derek had reached his destination.

And Spencer did explode. Just not in the way he had expected.

“Stop, stop! Please, please stop!” Spencer jerked away from Derek, slipping and landing hard on the tile below. Vaguely, he was aware of the back of his head connecting with something hard with a loud bang. He pushed himself into the corner as far as possible and raised his arms above him in protection. He didn’t know when it had happened, but his eyes were closed. And if his eyes were closed…

—-

“Spencer, let me help you.” His dad says, reaching out towards him. Spencer pulls back immediately, terrified of the events that inevitably lay ahead.

“I can clothe myself now, father.” Spencer knows better than to make quips towards his father, but he can’t help himself tonight. It’d been a hard day, and he’s tired.

“Tsk tsk, boy, you know better than to disobey.” The man takes a step towards Spencer, and he has nowhere to go. His dad is just so much bigger and stronger, and he can’t do anything about the way he has been trapped. “You know what happens to boys who don’t obey?”

“Yes. Yes, and I'm sorry. So sorry.” Spencer takes in a single breath through his nose, quick and careful. “I won’t do it again, sir.”

“Damn right you won’t. Now get out of those clothes and let me help you get your pajamas on.” The sneer on his father’s face makes him want to sob. But, he knows that he can’t. Crying only makes it worse.

Spencer hangs his head in shame as he peels back the layers covering him. He’s seven, and a genius for goodness sake, he knows how to do this by himself. But at times like these, silence is better than truth.

“Good boy. Now, come here.” His dad drawls when Spencer finishes undressing, the scratch in his voice making him flinch ever so slightly. “You know what to do next, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” Spencer drones, already halfway to the safehaven inside his head. He mindlessly walks to his bed and crawls in. His dad loves him, that’s why he’s doing this. That’s why. It’s for his own good. His dad just loves him so much he wants to spend extra time with him before they both sleep, and what was so wrong about that? Right?

“You know I can’t let you get away with the stunt you pulled when I first came in.” He phrases it as a statement, already knowing that Spencer knows what’s coming. Spencer simply nods his head in response.

He feels the bed dip beside him, feels hands pulling him closer. He stays facing the opposite direction, unwilling to watch his father do this. One hand grips his waist so hard he knows he will wake up with bruises the next morning. The other hand wraps around from behind, and Spencer takes a slow, deep breath in, and retreats to the cozy library he has built up in his mind. It’s one of those libraries that is decorated wonderfully in the children’s section. Even though he reads far above that level, he always brings his books with him to the soft bean bags under the hanging cloud lights and the rainbow painted on the wall.

But he’s phasing in and out tonight. It happens sometimes, but not often. He’s been getting better at not letting it happen. Tonight, though, Spencer finds it hard to block out the hand that grasps him roughly. He can’t stand it, can’t stand the way his father runs teasing fingers over his skin before beginning the dirty work. The hand finally reaches a place a father should never be touching, and everything goes black.

—-

When Spencer woke up, he was curled up on the couch. For a moment he was bewildered, unsure how he got there. And then he saw Derek, the man whose leg was currently his pillow. The look on the man’s face told him everything he needed to know, reminded him of the events that just occurred.

“Fuck.” Spencer sat up quickly, startling the man beside him. “Fuck.” He buried his face in his hands.

“Spence?” Derek’s soft voice fluttered around him, far too fragile for the mess occurring in Spencer’s brain.

“What happened after… what happened?” He asked, refusing to move his hands.

“You fainted. Too much adrenaline, I think. You were hyperventilating pretty badly. It looked like a flashback.” Derek murmured.

“Shit.” Spencer groaned heavily. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. I should’ve known not to push it.” Derek’s voice was hoarse, as if thick from tears. This prompted Spencer to uncover his face.

“Derek. Hey, don’t cry. It’s not your fault. I’m the one who gave you permission, okay?” Spencer tilted his head to the side and gripped one of Derek’s hands to comfort the man.

“Yes, but-”

“No buts, Derek. It’s not on you, got it?” Spencer ran a hand over his face before spinning around to check the clock. “Shit! We need to get to work!”

“Hey, hey, calm down my pretty boy. I’ve already called in to Hotch and told him we wouldn’t be making it in today.” Derek rubbed his back calmingly, but to no avail.

“No, no, it’s not too late. We’re only a half hour behind, we could still make it.” Spencer scrambled to get up, groaning when a headache hit him full-force. The grimace on his face and the pained noise he made had Derek pulling him back down.

“Easy there. You hit your head pretty good. Got a knot and everything. I’d be surprised if you weren’t in pain for the next week.” Derek talked softly, and it was only now that Spencer realized how dark it was - Derek had closed the curtains and turned all the lights out, save the lamp next to his bookshelf.

“You should at least go in.” Spencer sunk back into the cushions behind him, a surrender of sorts. “They need you, and I’ve held you back from work for long enough with my illnesses and all that.”

“Spencer, I don’t want to leave you here alone. I worry about you, you know? Just last night you woke me up because of how bad you were feeling.” Derek protested, and Spencer could hear the deep-set anxiety in his voice.

“I know, but do you really think I’m capable of anything right now? I mean, I’m going to need your help with just getting back to the bedroom.”

Silence fills the room. Derek was deep in contemplation, a pendulum of emotions flitting over his features. Spencer opted to throw an arm over his eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing pain behind his forehead.

“You’ll have to start trusting me at some point, Derek.” Spencer reminded, breaking through Derek’s inner turmoil. “You can even ask the ‘security detail’ or whoever they are to stick around. Although I’m not really worried about that to be honest.”

“I know, baby, I know. I just want you to be safe and okay. Our unsub only kills on Saturdays, so I’m not super worried either.” Derek sighed heavily. “How about I go in for a half day to start, before I leave you alone for a full day. Does that sound okay?”

“I mean, I’d rather you just go the full day, but if it makes you feel better then I guess it’s a good compromise.”

“That’ll be the plan, then. Let me help you to your bed and I’ll put out some painkillers, snacks, and water on your nightstand. If you need anything, you call me, okay? I don’t care whether you’re worried about interrupting anything. Just call me.” Derek left a quick kiss on Spencer’s forehead before standing and offering an arm to him.

Spencer took it gratefully, only nodding in response. He was beginning to feel nausea creeping in, and the last thing he wanted was to vomit. There was no way he was about to risk opening his mouth.

Even with Derek’s help, Spencer was stumbling. Eventually Derek just picked him up, bridal style. Spencer immediately curled into Derek’s chest, exhaustion tugging at his consciousness. He knew that he would feel horrible about the events that had occurred later, but for now he was content to drift off and avoid the thoughts altogether.

Before he knew it, Spencer was tucked into his bed, Derek placing the necessary items beside him on the nightstand. The man was murmuring something that Spencer couldn’t decipher in his current state. Derek must have gotten the hint, because he simply kissed the top of his head and turned out the lamp, softly padding out of the room. And just like that, Spencer’s whole body fell into the dark landscape of sleep.

—-

“Spencer?” Derek’s voice cut through the apartment. It was 1:17 pm, and he had just made it back.

“Here.” Spencer called back weakly, clearing the sleep from his throat. A flurry of motion set out in the main area of the apartment that Spencer couldn’t see. With the sounds, he gathered that Derek was setting his things down.

“Hey, how are you feeling, baby?” Derek walked through the door to the bedroom, working his tie off as he walked.

“Been better. Been worse.” Spencer mumbled. “How was work?”

“We all missed you. The girls all said to tell you they hope you feel better soon.”

“What’d you tell them?” Spencer rubbed at his eyes again to try to rid the blurriness there.

“That you have a migraine and couldn’t come in because it was so bad.” Derek sat on the bed next to him, reaching out to stroke Spencer’s cheek.

“Thank you.” Spencer shut his eyes again, smiling softly as he enjoyed the contact of Derek’s hand on his face.

“Of course, my pretty boy.” Derek replied. “I wanted to talk to you about something, by the way.”

“Is everything okay?” Spencer sat up slightly, sleepiness leaving him.

“I wanted to talk about Carl Buford.” Silence encased them after Derek spoke.

“Oh. Are you… are you sure?” Spencer stammered.

“Yes, yeah, I’m good. I just wanted to talk about how I moved past that trauma to the best of my ability. I mean, I still have my moments, but I think it might help for us to talk about it.” Derek smiled sadly at him, reaching out and swiping a stray strand of hair from Spencer’s face.

“Um.” Spencer sucked in a deep breath, teeth grazing his bottom lip. “I don’t… I don’t know, Derek. I don’t know if I can. At least not right now.”

“That’s okay, I’m not going to push it. I just want you to know that I’m here to talk about it if you want or need to, okay?” Spencer could hear the empathy in Derek’s voice, lacing through the words in a painfully understanding manner. “How about I make us something to eat, and while I work on that you could move to the couch? That would be a better place to eat than in bed, but more comfortable than sitting at a table with the pain you’re experiencing.”

“Okay. But I’m not really sure how much I’ll be able to eat…”

“You do your best, that’s all that matters, okay?”

“Okay.”

----

As much as Spencer hated to admit it, he really needed to go to therapy today. It had been a whole four days since the incident, and he was only feeling worse each day. It didn’t help that Saturday was coming quickly. He knew the team would figure something out, but the idea of a serial killer targeting him or his friends put Spencer at a constant unease.

“Derek, we need to head out now.” Spencer approached his desk, anxiously chewing his nails. Everyone was busy with their own paperwork, but he still felt the need to whisper.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just finishing this up really quickly,” Derek’s words trailed for a moment before he shoved the paper he had been writing on away from him, smiling gently as he said, “Let’s go, baby.”

“I’m just going to- to, um, to get on the elevator.” Spencer pointed a jerky thumb towards the exit. There was too much nervous energy humming through his body to stand still.

“Hold on, I’m coming!” Derek raked his things into his bag and ran to catch Spencer before the elevator went down. He shot a hand out, just barely keeping the doors open.

“Sorry.” Spencer breathed, shrinking himself into the corner of the elevator. He was doing a lot of that recently, he’d realized. He can barely sleep in the same bed as Derek anymore, unable to handle extended periods of physical contact.

“It’s alright, pretty boy. I know you’re anxious.” Derek tried to reach out and take his hand, but Spencer flinched back, fear briefly flashing through his eyes before he looked back down to the floor. He flinched again when the elevator dinged upon reaching the bottom floor.

The walk to the car was silent. Again. Everything was silent, now. Spencer knew that Derek was upset, but he could barely speak past the lump in his throat. The world was dark, and scary, and he didn’t feel safe anywhere, not even in the FBI headquarters. If he couldn’t feel safe there, could he ever feel safe anywhere?

“Spence?” Derek spoke quietly. “We’re here.”

“Oh.” Spencer looked up to see the building in front of him, a zap of anxiety sending chills throughout his body. He was shaking everywhere.

“Do you want me to go back with you?” Derek asked.

Spencer just shook his head in reply, giving him a wry smile as he exited the vehicle. A week ago, he would have walked in with Derek. But it wasn’t a week ago anymore.

Looking up, Spencer gulped. Here he was again. Back to having his brain violated, to having someone traipsing through the dark forest of his mind. At least he was back to Arthur, though. Originally he had planned to work with the therapist the doctor recommended, but he found it nearly impossible to speak with her. She must have had a conversation with Arthur because he called the next day and offered to work with him for therapy purposes along with prescribing his medication.

The office was on the third floor, but Spencer decided to take the stairs. He wanted to feel the sting in his muscles. Wanted to feel the air leave his lungs for a reason other than panic. Wanted… well, wanted to feel something.

“Spencer! Good to see you!” Arthur smiled after Spencer opened the door. He slipped in quietly and sat on the couch adjacent to the man. The only recognition of his words was a swift nod of Spencer’s head.

“How are we feeling today?” Spencer flinched when Arthur scooted forward, getting more comfortable in his chair. The doctor didn’t miss it. “You seem very tense. Did something happen? Maybe something to trigger something from your past?”

“Mhm.” Spencer felt tears burning behind his eyes. He didn’t let them pass, he couldn’t - he wasn’t allowed to cry, after all. No, he scolded himself. That was a rule he didn’t have to follow anymore. But if that were true, why did he feel the need to hold his tears?

“Are you unable to speak today?” Arthur asked, to which Spencer sighed in relief and nodded. He was glad the man picked up on it so quickly.

“Okay, how about this. I’ll ask some yes and no questions to get an idea of where we’re at today, and then we can go from there. Just nod for yes and shake your head for no. Sound good?”

Spencer nodded. He didn’t even want to be there anymore, but he might as well participate.

“Are you nonverbal because of your autism?”

Spencer shook his head.

“Is it because a trauma was triggered?”

He nodded.

“Was this trauma familial?”

Another nod.

“Was it physical, sexual, or emotional? Hold up one finger for physical, two for sexual, and three for-”

Spencer lifted two fingers, cutting him off.

“Okay, just to confirm, this is about sexual trauma?”

He nodded again.

“Was this brought on by an attempt to be intimate with someone?”

Spencer’s lip quivered as he nodded.

“Alright. Okay,” Arthur leaned back in his chair, thinking. “Would you feel comfortable writing out what happened instead of speaking?”

The last thing Spencer wanted to do was share his intimacy struggles with someone, but writing would be much easier than speaking. He nodded.

“Perfect. Let me grab you a pencil and piece of paper, and then you can write it out. Is it okay if I read it aloud when you’re done?”

Spencer nodded and accepted the notepad he was handed. This would be much easier, and for that, he was grateful. It only took him a few minutes to write out what he was thinking, anyway.

“Done already?” Arthur raised his eyebrows slightly but accepted the writing. “Are you okay if I start reading this back to you now?”

A nod from Spencer spurred him on.

“Alright. Let’s begin.” Arthur cleared his throat and spoke, “I’ve been getting closer with Derek, my partner, and wanted to try something more than kissing him. Four days ago, we decided to shower together. I'm not even sure what I was expecting from that, if I’m being honest. I think I just wanted to experience something intimate with him, and that seemed like some weird, less-scary middle ground. And we kissed, and it was amazing, and… for lack of better terms, we both were feeling quite strongly about the other. He was behind me. My back was to his chest. I really liked the way it felt, so I pushed myself a little further. I kind of guided his hand to my stomach and basically encouraged him to keep going. It felt really good, it really did. But then he got, well, there, and I freaked. My dad used to- Spencer, are you okay?”

Spencer’s whole frame was shaking with unreleased sobs. All he did was nod, refusing to look up. He knew he would break if he did.

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know.” Arthur murmured.

Spencer shook his head, hard and fast. No, it wasn’t. Everyone wanted him to be okay, so he had to be okay.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He shook his head. They’d never finish if he forced him to stop now.

“Okay. But if you need me to, you let me know, okay?” Arthur took a deep breath before continuing. “My dad used to lay behind me in bed and reach over me when he would do things, and I think my brain just automatically connected them. And now I can’t stop thinking about it, and I feel like shit 24/7, and am unable to speak. I’m just floating.”

“Thank you, Spencer, for sharing this with me.” Arthur spoke softly. Spencer shrugged in return.

“So, your father-” Arthur couldn’t even finish the sentence; the word ‘father’ broke the floodgates that Spencer had so desperately been trying to hold together.

“How am I ever supposed to- I can’t even- I don’t even know-” Spencer was stuttering, breaths coming in gasps.

“Spencer, you need to breathe. It’s okay to feel these emotions, but we don’t want you to pass out, okay? Follow my lead.” Arthur led him through a breathing exercise until the lightheadedness began to clear, leaving only exhaustion and sadness behind.

“Alright, Spencer. What were you trying to say?” Arthur inquired.

“I just- I don’t know how to function. How can I ever be happy, ever be a whole person, if I can’t even have a small moment of intimacy with the man I love without completely falling off the deep end?” Spencer dissolved into sobs again. He kept sniffling and scraping his palms across his eyes angrily. He hated crying so much; the sensory experience was awful.

“Your ability to experience certain parts of intimacy does not make you any less human than anyone else. You need to remember that.” Arthur murmured. “And it absolutely is possible to be happy without being intimate, just as it is possible to work towards not falling off the deep end when attempting to be intimate with a partner.”

“Maybe I’m just too far gone. Maybe there’s no point to any of this, because I’m already too fucked up to go back.” The words scraped through Spencer’s throat and exited hoarsely.

“No, Spencer. Nobody is ever too far gone. There is always hope.”

“I don’t think there’s any for me.” Spencer sniffled.

“Have you been feeling suicidal?” Arthur asked bluntly, startling Spencer.

“Yeah.” He spoke barely above a whisper.

“Are you actively or passively suicidal, if you know?”

“In the middle, I think.”

“Do I need to be worried about your safety?” Arthur’s voice was harder now.

“I don’t know.” Spencer’s answer was honest, his voice raw. How was he supposed to know if his feelings of wanting to fall off the face of the earth would turn into plans to rid it of himself out for good?

“Okay. I’ve got some options here that you aren’t going to like, but they’re necessary.” Arthur sighed.

“Whatever keeps me out of the hospital.” He answered swiftly. “I never, ever, want to go back there.”

“Okay. I’m going to have to bring Derek in, then.” Spencer’s head shot up when Arthur stood.

“No. Wait, you- you can’t. Please don’t. He’ll be so upset.” Spencer’s breaths were becoming choppy again. He couldn’t disappoint him again, not after everything.

“I’m sorry Spencer. It’s either notifying someone who resides with the person, notifying a family member, or admittance to a hospital. You’ve already said no to the hospital and I know you have no family you’d be willing to call. That leaves me with only one option.” Arthur spoke soothingly, but it didn’t help Spencer to feel any better. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Spencer wanted to scream. No, no it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay that he was about to let his boyfriend down, that he was ready to slit his fucking wrists and get it over with already without interruption. Nothing about what was happening was even close to okay. He tugged on his hair, trying to create a physical outlet for the overwhelming emotions. It was at that moment he knew he wouldn’t make it to a week clean from self-injury. Here he was, again, just where he expected to end up: spiraling back down into despair.

“Spencer?” Derek’s voice came from beside him, and he felt the couch dip. “Are you alright?”

“Does it look like I’m fucking alright?” He spat, putting as much venom behind his words as possible. Almost immediately, Spencer felt bad. Not bad enough to take the words back, but enough to make him guilty of hurting his partner more than he already had.

“Arthur?” Derek’s eyes widened and he looked over to the psychiatrist.

“We need to talk.” Arthur sighed. 

Chapter Text

Spencer couldn’t believe that they were here. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be sitting next to his boyfriend as a psychiatrist explained his suicidality to him, he would have laughed in their face. But now… now it was a cold, hard reality.

“And you think I shouldn’t put him in the care of a hospital?” Derek asked, dumbfounded.

“No, I don’t. I believe that doing so would only hinder the progress we’ve made so far. Because he is living with someone he trusts and who knows what he’s going through, I feel as though he will be safe enough to be at home. I won’t lie, it will be a lot of work. You may even want to get help from a mutual close friend as well. It’s a lot to put onto you, but if you’re up for it, I think it would help Spencer exponentially.” Arthur explained his reasoning.

“I see. That makes sense.” Derek shifted, turning to face Spencer. “Can I call Hotch later?” 

“No.” Spencer replied promptly, shook his head, and raised his palms to cover his face.

“Spence. I’m going to need someone else there sometimes, and so will you. Please-”

“I said no.” His voice was muffled behind his hands, but the venom in the words came through evidently. 

“Okay, Spencer, Derek. Let’s take a step back and address this.” Arthur stopped them from continuing their back-and-forth. “Spencer, do you trust Hotch?” 

“...Yeah.” Spencer answered hesitantly, unsure of where he was going.

“Derek, do you?” 

“Of course.” Derek replied confidently.

“Spencer, Hotch has already helped in situations regarding your mental health, correct?” Arthur questioned.

“Yes, he has.” Instead of covering his entire face, he had resorted to pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes in an attempt to calm the storm behind them.

“So then what is your concern with him being a part of it again? Did he do something to make you uncomfortable, or maybe something that he didn’t do that he could have?”

“No. He was fine. I just don’t need an extra supervisor. Or the first one, either, while we’re talking about it.” Spencer mumbled. He removed his hands from his eyes, immediately squinting at the bright lights assaulting them. Fists curled tight in his lap as the fire deep in his belly licked at his throat, threatening to send him aflame from inside out. 

“Yes you do. You know very well that that is exactly what you need, Spencer. So why are you fighting it so hard when just last week you were fairly okay with accepting help?” Arthur tilted his head slightly to the side.

“Because I don’t want it. I want to be left the fuck alone. Is there anything wrong with that?” Spencer spat. “I’ve spent so long being constantly monitored and I’m sick of it! I’m an adult and can handle myself. And if I couldn’t, I’d solve the problem.”

“Solve the problem, how?” 

“To solve the problem, it has to be gotten rid of. So, if I get rid of myself, then poof, no more problem.” He shrugged. It was a simple concept, really. Anyone could see that he was the problem, the cause of all the tension his loved ones were feeling, the reason Derek was probably sick with worry constantly. If he was gone, that would all go away. 

“You are not the problem. The illness is, Spencer. Not you. The problem has never been you.” Arthur spoke slowly, letting his words sit in the air between them. 

“No, no, that’s not right. I’ve always been the problem.” 

“Who told you that?” Arthur inquired, voice harder than before.

“Wh-what?” Spencer’s brows knit; he’d never been asked that before.

“Who told you that you are a problem?” Arthur reiterated.

“Uh. I mean, me?” He knew there was more to it, but he didn’t want to dive into that particular can of worms.

“So you got the idea all by yourself, then?” Arthur pushed harder, and Spencer fell off the ledge of sanity he was so desperately clinging to.

“It was my father, okay! Is that what you wanted to hear? That my dad fucking hated everything about me and made me see myself the same way? I fucking know that! I know it ! But that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with it.” Spencer raised his voice in anger.

“But if he had never suggested it, would you have thought about it?” 

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Spencer breathed out heavily and sank back into the couch in defeat. “Maybe. Maybe not. What does it matter now?”

“It matters because it proves that this negative belief of yourself was built on a faulty foundation.” Arthur frowned.

“So what? It’s still what I believe to be true.” Why would it even matter now, he thought, when the damage has been long done?

“Would you want to move into a house that you knew was built on an unsteady foundation out of convenience instead of waiting to move in and working to stabilize it first?”

“What the fuck, Arthur?” Spencer shook his head, confused at the sudden, random question.

“Would you?” He repeated.

“No, that would be stupid.”

“So then why do you hold on to a belief built on lies and manipulation instead of rebuilding it?” Arthur’s head tilted to the side slightly as he spoke.

“Please stop trying to make me not hate myself.” For the first time since their session started, Spencer choked up.

“Why, Spencer? What’s so bad about that?” Arthur asked gently.

“Because it’s everything I’ve ever known. And if it’s not true, then my entire life has been a lie. It would mean my agony would have no true meaning. I have to hate myself because if I don’t, then everything I’ve been through becomes something simply made up in my head, therefore making me crazy and my pain all my fault.” Spencer rambled, shaky hands finding his hair and fingers snaking through the strands.

“No, Spencer, it’s never been your fault. Your pain is real and absolutely valid. You’ve been through so many things in your life, more than most people I’ve ever helped, which says a lot. The fact that you’re here today is a testament to your strength. Trust me when I say you are not making anything up. You’re not making up fake pain. You have every reason to struggle. The important part is that you’re working on it now.” Arthur leaned forward in his chair. “You being happy in the future and working past your trauma does not mean that anything you felt in the past was not real or truthful. Happiness in the present with acknowledgment of pain you felt in the past can coexist.”

“Fuck, Arthur. That was a lot of words and a lot of things I didn't want to hear.” Spencer huffed out a laugh after a minute of trying to process all the information thrown his way.

“Yes, I’m sure it was. But I want you to think about it. Really think about it, and we can talk about it at our next session, yeah?” Arthur sat his notepad and pen on the desk behind him before turning to Derek. “Derek, as for you. Don’t be pushy, but keep an eye on him. Preferably as much as you can. Spencer is in a very volatile state right now, and it is imperative he have a solid support system and someone to watch him. Usually I wouldn’t give advice that goes against a patient’s wishes, but I suggest you fill Hotch in and maybe even get him to join you two in a conversation over where everyone is at right now.” 

“Of course, yeah. I can do that.” Derek sighed. “Could I have a word with you alone, please?” 

“Sure. Spencer, we will be right back. You sit tight.” Arthur and Derek had vanished before Spencer could process what was happening. Now, left alone in the silence of the room, he felt a sadness so immeasurable it nauseated him. 

Why did it always have to end this way? Why was it that he could have a good thing for only a miniscule drop of time when he thirsted for a waterfall? It was over now, he knew that much. There was no coming back from something like this. Derek was scared out of his mind, even if he tried not to show it, even if his body did not betray him. His eyes told the sincerest of stories, though. They spoke of a terror so unabashed one might expect to find hell itself behind them. Somewhere, prowling deep inside the flames, Spencer resided. His flesh was burning, flames licking up his charred skin. He was peeling, disintegrating, violently thrashing as the flames overtook him. How long could a man survive the heat of a thousand suns ablaze on his skin? And what amount of time could that man’s lover remain able to watch him be tortured eternally, to gaze upon death’s hands on his shoulders but never around his throat? How horrible a life that would be, to watch the one soul that means more than anything to him on this wretched earth suffer the worst of torment without the relief of death snatching him up and carrying him away, in peace at long last.

Muffled voices were coming through the door, and Spencer rose from the couch and pressed an ear to the polished wood.

“I’m scared, Arthur. I’ve seen him many ways and in many shapes, but never like this. It’s like he’s gone and given up completely.” Derek’s voice shook.

“Because he has. That’s just it, though. People who have chronic depression go through these ‘phases’ of sorts where they completely lose hope. We just need to pull him through this one, to hold his head above the water long enough for him to relearn how to swim.” 

“How? I genuinely don’t know what I’m doing. I can do all the research in the world, but I will never know just how to keep him alive.” 

“I’m sorry. In any other circumstance, I would have him on a 5150 right now. I just worry that the outcome may not be as effective for him.” Arthur’s sigh carried through the door. “But if you need me to, I’ll give the order. I understand if it’s too much for you to handle alone.”

A pause followed Arthur’s words, one that dragged on for so long Spencer thought he would never hear anything again. Derek wouldn’t give up on him, right? 

“No, no, I wouldn’t do that to him. Let me talk to Hotch first, he messaged me right before I came in about something work-related that may require a large change of plans to everything.”

“Is everything okay?” Arthur inquired, curious.

“I can’t really tell you, and I’m not totally sure myself. But what I can tell you is that it could very well leave us without contact with you for an unknown amount of time.” 

“Derek, I know there are extenuating circumstances, but I have to advise you against that. Spencer needs rigorous therapy and he can’t really afford to go without.”

“Trust me, I know. But we may not have much of a choice. I want more than anything to help him, but I can’t do that properly if we are in danger.” Derek breathed out heavily. “Speaking of, we really need to head out. Hotch wants us at the office ASAP.”

“Ok, I understand. But Derek, you need-” 

Spencer stepped back from the door to return to the couch. All he wanted was to go home and sleep, but now he couldn’t. He sank back into the couch and heaved a sigh. Eyes fluttering closed, Spencer savored what little peace and quiet he would have for who knows how long.

“Spence? Hotch needs us at the office.” The door creaked open, Derek’s voice floating in. Spencer grunted and scrubbed at his eyes before painstakingly tearing himself away from the couch. 

“Case?” Spencer questioned. 

“Something like that.” Derek replied, seemingly hesitant to give him more information. This only further frustrated Spencer. Before he could get onto Derek about it, though, Arthur spoke up.

“Spencer. I don’t know when I will be seeing you again, but I need you to try to hold on at least long enough to come back. We have more to talk about, and I’m going to be waiting for you, okay?” Arthur gave him a small pat on the shoulder, ignoring the harsh flinch that came from him. “Take care of yourself.” 

—

“Alright, everyone. I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.” Hotch wrung his hands as he addressed the team. Concerningly, Garcia wore a somber expression as she stood off to the side, too used to standing to present a case to join them at the table. It didn’t pass Spencer that she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” Derek asked nervously. 

“I need you all to do your best to stay calm when I show you this, okay?” The man murmured. Everyone nodded, minus Spencer. He couldn’t be bothered to look up from the floor for long enough to acknowledge anyone or anything. He could feel eyes on him, but he didn’t care. 

“Okay guys, I got some… concerning things sent to me.” Garcia tapped the tablet in her hand with shaking fingers, projecting a file on the screen in front of them. “There are things within this file that are going to make you squirm-y, but the boss-man said I have to show it all. Sorry in advance.” 

A gasp rang out through the room when Garcia flipped to the first picture, causing Spencer to look up. It was Spencer and Derek, clear as day, walking out of Spencer’s apartment building. Their hands were joined between them and Spencer was smiling over something Derek was saying. It was a sweet picture, really, in any other circumstance. But to think someone had been stalking them… that sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. 

“What the fuck .” Derek deadpanned beside him. Dumbfounded, Spencer returned his gaze to the carpeted floor below, anxiety buzzing through his veins. “They know where we live?” 

“You’re not the only one, sugar.” Garcia sighed and clicked to the next picture. Despite knowing the general idea of what the pictures would be, shocked inhales of surprise sounded from around the table. Once again, Spencer’s head raised, realizing immediately why everyone had been so surprised. 

The image depicted Hotch walking Jack to the schoolbus, both smiling as they walked down the sidewalk. Disturbingly, someone had drawn over the image, x-ing out both of their eyes and drawing a gun pointed directly at Hotch’s forehead. Anger fizzled through the room. Targeting the team was understandable, but bringing their families in? Game over. 

“Hotch…” Emily began to speak, but was cut off by the man holding his hand in the air to pause her. 

“Don’t.” Hotch’s voice was stretched and drowning in the sting of fear that only a parent could ever know. “There’s more.”

Wordlessly, Garcia turned to the next image, continuing to do so until every team member had been shown in a place that they considered to be safe. Spencer’s eyes widened at the scenes in front of him as he felt his heart stop. Despite all he had been through, this was arguably the scariest. Some of the pictures dated back several months, meaning that they had all been under surveillance for an extended period of time. Others were dredged up from the past, all the way back to birthdays, proms, and graduations. After reaching the final picture, the room sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while as they all processed what they had just witnessed. 

“Reid. I need to speak with you in my office.” Hotch’s ever-stoic voice cut through the quiet. “Everyone else stays here. We’ll be back soon.” Spencer side-eyed Derek, suspicious, before slowly standing up, feeling faint for a moment under the weight of it all. 

As soon as they reached Hotch’s office and the door closed behind them, Spencer grumbled, “What did Morgan say this time?” 

“Morgan said nothing.” Hotch denied. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he questioned, “Why, should he have?”

“No, no, definitely not. Just curious.” Spencer looked away awkwardly. “So then what is it?”

“There’s another picture of you, and I didn’t think you’d want me to show the entire team. I’m here to share it with you and ask for your permission to present it.” Hotch wrung his hands nervously. “It’s a very… vulnerable picture.”

“Okay, so show me then.” Spencer nodded, trying to disguise his panic. The possible image types were endless, and every single one had Spencer on edge. 

Hotch grimaced and pulled his phone from his pocket. He seemed reluctant to share what was on the screen, but he handed it over anyway. 

Spencer couldn’t breathe. 

“Hotch-” His reply was strangled. Panic was mounting hardcore now. 

“I know, kid. I know.”

“Who else has seen this?” How was he breathing enough to talk? It didn’t feel like he was.

“Garcia.” Hotch’s gaze slipped to the side, avoiding looking at Spencer.

“No.” Spencer whined, handing the phone back to cover his face with both hands. He was hyperventilating now.

“Reid, you need to breathe.” 

“Breathe? Breathe ? Really?” Spencer laughed angrily. “How can I breathe when you expect me to share that with everyone ?” He was yelling now.

“I don’t expect you to. I want your permission, yes, but I won’t force it.” 

“Everyone says that. They always say that but hold it over your head. They’ll always remember, and you’ll be ‘unreliable’ and ‘difficult’ . I don’t- I can’t  believe you.” Spencer rambled, gasping for air between sentences.

“Reid. Spencer. Breathe .” Hotch commanded. Just as Spencer was contemplating telling him to go fuck himself, the door behind him flew open and Derek burst into the room.

“Spence?” Derek immediately reached for Spencer, but he flinched harshly and pulled away. “Hotch, what the hell is going on?” 

“There’s another picture, and it’s of Reid. I pulled him aside to show him and ask permission to share it with the team. It didn’t feel right to include it without talking with him first.” Hotch grimaced.

“Pretty boy, can I look at it?” Derek asked, pointing at the phone in Hotch’s hand.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Spencer laughed, but there was no humor in his tone. “Go for it.” 

Spencer walked backwards slowly until his back hit the wall. Instead of watching Derek process what he was seeing, he slid down the wall and hunched over, hands covering his face in shame and fear. What was going to happen now? He couldn’t say no. Sure, the team had seen things before, but nothing to this caliber. Tremors shook his body and he hugged his legs in an attempt to calm down, slow down, slow the fuck down . 

“Hotch, you can’t show that. You know you can’t.” Derek’s voice lowered to a borderline growl. “You can't seriously be considering this.” 

“I am. It’s awful, I know, but these are the team’s lives at stake. We’re talking about safety here, Morgan.” Hotch sighed.

“Safety? What about Spencer’s safety?” Derek scoffed. “You don’t understand. This is the last thing he needs right now. We just came from an appointment with his psychiatrist, Hotch. And you know what he told me? He told me that Spencer is suicidal again. Imagine the stress it would cause for others to see the image? This can’t get out. Absolutely not. He’s in too much of a volatile position right now.”

“Why is he here then, shouldn’t he be in a treatment facility?” Hotch’s voice had softened from concern, but it grated against Spencer’s ears all the same.

“Because the psychiatrist thinks that a hospital stay would do more harm than good. So instead of that, I’m going to be keeping an eye on him 24/7.”

“Okay.” Hotch breathed in deeply, thinking. “How about this… we could-”

“Stop.” Spencer interrupted. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here and like I am incapable of decision-making. Show them the picture. I don’t care. My only request is to stay here while you do. I don’t want to see their reactions.”

“Spencer, are you sure-” Derek began to argue.

“I am absolutely, positively sure. Just go get it over with, okay? I need it done.” Spencer’s head dropped between his knees. With eyes closed, Spencer pictured the image in his head. There was so much pain, a darkness so cavernous even he couldn’t begin to imagine the bottom. How could he ever come back from this?

Voice muffled, Spencer breathed, “I just need everything to be done.”

Chapter Text

When Hotch left the room, Spencer was still sat against the wall, breathing somewhat erratic. Derek, bless him, was trying his best to calm Spencer down, but there’s only so much that can be done when something like this occurs. 

“This is going to- it’s going to ruin everything.” He cried, hands covering his face. 

“It’s alright, Spencer. It’s not going to ruin anything, okay? Yeah, it’ll be hard for the team to see that picture, but they aren’t going to judge you.” Derek squatted in front of the man and ran a hand up and down his arm. “You just focus on breathing, and we’ll deal with everything after that. Take it one step at a time.”

Spencer nodded, not trusting his voice enough to reply. One step at a time was manageable. He could do that. Just breathe, Spencer, just breathe. 

Right as his breathing returned to normal, Hotch opened the door and stuck his head in the room. 

“Reid, Morgan, we’re done showing the picture. You ready to come back?”

Spencer’s hands and voice were shaking, but he managed to speak. “Yeah. Ready.” 

Derek offered his hand for support, and Spencer took it gratefully. He couldn’t get up on his own, not when his legs were basically glorified jello. The grip on his hand only tightened, and Derek laced his fingers through Spencer’s. 

“It’s going to be okay, my pretty boy.” The man soothed, running his thumb across Spencer’s knuckles.

All Spencer did was nod in response. He was beginning to drift into a half-dissociated state. If he was reading the looks on Hotch and Derek’s faces correctly, then the two men knew this as well. However, instead of trying to pull him out of it, they let him drift. Better this way, they all figured, then sending him spiraling into another panic attack.

When they walked back into the round table room, Spencer could feel all eyes on him. It made him so antsy that he wanted to run. Instead, he gripped Derek’s hand, breathing in and out in a measured pace. He continued to breathe steadily after they sat back down in their chairs, and Spencer reminded himself to breathe, to take it one step at a time, Spencer, one step at a time.

Hotch broke the silence a moment later when he said, “So, as you can see, this unsub knows us and our pasts. He is targeting us specifically, and we need to determine why so we can build a profile.”

Spencer glanced around the room, finding just about everyone’s eyes on him. He met eyes with Emily and nearly flinched at the pain in them. Immediately he averted his eyes, lowering his head and squeezing them shut. The image flashed in his head again, and again, and again. How had the unsub even come across such a thing? 

“Reid.” Hotch’s voice startled him, head jerking up. “I know this is hard, but we need your head in this. You’re a vital part of our team, and we need you focused on this case. We need you. Understood?”

With a nod, Spencer sighed. “Understood.” 

After speaking the words, he realized the truth behind them. Yes, he did understand. This was bigger than him, bigger than the secrets hidden within that picture, even bigger than the depression weighing him down. This was about the team, too. And Spencer would be damned if he let the team down.

“So here’s what we know so far. This unsub is targeting our weak spots. For Hotch and JJ, it’s their children. For Derek and me, it’s each other. For Garcia, it’s Kevin. For Rossi, it’s his ex-wives. For Prentiss, it’s Sergio. And also for me, it’s… well, my reputation. The picture he chose proves that. Which, by the way, is from when I was fifteen, so don’t worry about me. It’s not recent by any means.” Spencer sighed. “He knows us well, and he harbors some deep-seated hatred for us. We should look into anyone we’ve sent to prison that has been released recently, or even family members of those we’ve incarcerated that are known for acting aggressively with law enforcement and/or have a criminal record.” He analyzed out loud, contemplating all the facts of the case so far. This was the most present and aware he’d felt all day, and the most like himself he’d felt in a long while. Who knew catching serial killers could trump depression?

After a moment of silence, Hotch spoke up. “Reid is absolutely right. This unsub is targeting our weaknesses, the things he knows will hurt us the most. Garcia, begin to narrow searches down to recent prison releases or disorderly conduct by family members and friends of those we’ve incarcerated. The rest of you, call your families and bring them in. We’re going to keep everyone here for the week under protective custody. Prentiss, this includes your cat. We can set up facilities for him. After you all do that, we need to track down where each photo was either taken or gathered from, and Reid, I’d like you to make a geographic map of the locations along with timeline of the pictures. We can also begin to analyze the pictures for evidence or hidden messages. Everyone understand?”

Words of agreement came from around the table, and everyone dispersed. Spencer, however, remained planted in his seat, eyes far away and haunted. 

“Spencer, baby?” Derek’s soft voice snapped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped up to look at the man.

“Yeah?” It was only then that he realized the lack of individuals in the room. “Oh. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Hotch shook his head. “I know it’s hard.”

Spencer frowned, unhappy with the response. “Can you treat me normally, please? I need to feel normal, not have you talk to me like I’m a ticking time-bomb.”

“You are a ticking time bomb.” Hotch stated frankly. “You are, whether you like it or not. But if it will slow that timer down, then I’ll be strict and stern with you again.” 

Derek cut in this time. “Spencer, I don’t know if it’s a great idea to have him getting on to you right now…” 

“I didn’t ask your opinion.” Spencer snapped, glaring at Derek. The grimace on the man’s face made him shrink back, immediately feeling bad. “Sorry.” He stated meekly, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just…” Derek’s voice cut off, and he shook his head as if ridding it of his original response. “Just take some deep breaths, yeah?” 

Spencer noticed the way Derek threw his original statement out and huffed, annoyed. “Derek, I swear on my life, if people keep holding back discussions or things they want to say to me any longer, I will absolutely lose my mind. Please, just say what you want to say and let that be that.”

Derek hesitated before clenching his jaw and quietly explaining, “I was just going to tell you to stop treating everyone around you like shit because you feel like shit. You feeling like shit doesn’t give you the right to take it out on everyone else.” 

And hell, Spencer could slap him for the accuracy of the statement. “I’m going to agree with you later, but right now I am very angry at that claim and am going to pass on the opportunity to engage in a discussion.” 

“Understood. Now are you ready to use that brilliant brain of yours and solve this shit-storm?” Derek asked with a small, uneven smile.

Spencer simply nodded resolutely, following Hotch and Derek out of the conference room to get to work.

~~~~

By the time Spencer had finished the geographic map and a timeline, he had determined one thing: most of the pictures of the team were taken after the case in Georgia and the arrest of Samantha Potts. The others were gathered from other sources like government websites, press releases, medical records, and a variation of public and private sources. Along with this, the pictures all were taken on the southern east coast, indicating that the unsub most likely lived there. 

He had been left alone to work, under the condition that the blinds to the conference room remained open. So, when Spencer poked his head out the door and called for the team down in the bullpen to join him, he was actually in a fairly decent mood. The time alone gave him time to think, to breathe. 

Derek was the first person to join him, of course. He gave him a small peck to the forehead, ruffled his hair, and looked at the table and board Spencer had covered in pictures, notes, and maps.

“Damn, Spencer. You got all this done within an hour?” Derek’s brows raised, impressed. “I mean, I know you’re a genius, but this is pretty awesome. What would we do without you?” 

“Never solve cases, is what.” JJ strode in, patting Spencer on the shoulder with a chuckle. And unexpectedly, Spencer laughed back. Albeit quiet and short, but he laughed. It was a start, and Derek grinned ear to ear.

Hotch entered the room briskly, eyes traveling around Spencer’s work. “Good work, Reid. Explain this to us, please.”

Spencer obliged happily. “All of the pictures that were personally taken by the unsub appear in the southern portion of the east coast, indicating that this is where the unsub resides.” He pointed to the area on the map, tracing around the red circle he marked. “I’ve just finished placing the pictures in order of time taken and am about to analyze them to determine if there are any messages within them. Most notably, however, is that all of the pictures taken by the unsub occur during and after the case in Georgia where we arrested Samantha Potts for the murder of the children and teenagers at the support group. Someone should have Garcia go through her friends and family in search of nefarious or suspect behavior. That’s all for now, I’ll let you all know if I find anything in the pictures.”

No questions come, so Spencer focused back on the work in front of him, tuning out his coworkers. It took him all of a minute to notice the inconsistencies in the photographs. In his mind, he put pieces together, a puzzle forming a message. Scrambling, Spencer rearranged the pictures on the table to match that in his mind, taking down notes and deciphering each code. 

This was the most Spencer-like he had felt in weeks, maybe months. He felt useful, important, needed. The work buoyed him, gave him an outlet and a purpose all in one. When his mind whirred, all the worries drifted away, and all that remained were the cogs spinning and the analytical thoughts churning. And eventually, as always, Spencer figured it out.

“Guys, I’ve got something!” Spencer called out as he poked his head out again, this time not even waiting for a reply before entering the room again, bouncing back and forth on his heels. A smile had overtaken his features as he took in the masterpiece of solved mystery in front of him. 

“Pretty boy, as impressive as this is, I have no idea what I’m looking at.” Derek’s voice came up behind Spencer, and he turned and flung himself into the man’s arms. Derek stumbled back, surprised, but then let out a laugh and held him tight.

“I love you and I’m sorry it’s been so hard lately. I’m trying. I love you.” Spencer murmured in his lover’s ear before burying his face in the man’s neck. It was as if little jolts of electricity were striking him, and his skin buzzed with life. 

“I love you too, baby. And as much as I love this, I think you should probably explain these notes. Hotch is staring lasers into the back of your head.” Derek’s soft laughter broke Spencer out of the trance he had fallen into, and he hopped back quickly, spinning around to face the team (and subsequently Hotch’s frustration, which he definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he is to see).

“Uh, sorry, um… yeah, sorry.” Spencer stumbled over his words, unable to come up with an excuse. “Anyway. So, I found a Bible verse within a code within a puzzle. First, I realized that the pictures each had a little puzzle piece shape somewhere within them. So I took those shapes and redrew them on a notepad, each marked with the number assigned with the picture. Then, I took those shapes and sectioned them each off based on what group of pictures it belonged to, as in, which ones were taken together. The puzzle pieces put together spelled out letters or numbers, which then gave the anagram of 1 Timothy 5:8. This verse says ‘Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.’.”

The room fell dead silent, nobody saying a word. Hotch is the first to speak, breathing out a quiet curse before voicing what everyone else was thinking. “It’s like Hankel all over again, communicating with and working from scripture.” 

Spencer could feel eyes on him, and he grimaced. “Stop looking at me like that, I’m fine. Just have Garcia look into Potts’s parents, okay? I’d bet they have something to do with this.”

“But if they did, why would they leave clues leading right back to them?” JJ wondered aloud, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms across her chest.

Rossi answered with ‘recognition?’ right as Prentiss said ‘taunt?’. The team broke into discussion about the two, but Spencer didn’t participate. He had another though churning around in his head, one that he desperately hoped wasn’t true. The rest must have noticed his absence as Derek laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Guys, I don’t think it’s done for recognition or as a taunt. I think it’s a cry for help.” Spencer mused, immediately calling Garcia while the others watched curiously. They’d long since learned to trust Spencer if he had a theory. 

Garcia answered and was immediately bombarded. “Garcia, I need all the information you can find on Samantha Potts’s parents. And I mean all of it. Every last bit.” Spencer didn’t even give her time to respond before tossing his phone on the table, beginning to work through theories aloud.

“One of them is the dominant and the other is the submissive. One came up with the plan while the other follows. It’s like… it’s like Hankel, except he was one singular person with three personalities. You have a willing and easily influenced participant, and the influenced participant is forced into the action. Or, one becomes willing under the influence of the other, such as the case of the Columbine shooters back in 1999.” Spencer explained quickly, his signature rambles coming out at full force. 

Suddenly, Hotch stepped forward. “Reid.” When Hotch gave him his signature annoyed look, Spencer had to bite back the smile tugging at his lips, pleased with the normalcy. “Slow down. We need to-“

The door to the conference room swung open and Garcia barged in, all swishing skirts and excited energy. She was carrying a file, and her face was alight with the glow that only appears upon great realization. “My furry friends, I’ve found something huge.”

She dropped the file onto the round table and flipped it open, taking a step back to allow the team to examine it. When Spencer and Derek’s gazes landed on the file, their eyes widened. 

Garcia dove headfirst into her explanation. “This, my friends, is Pamela Warren-Potts. Or, better known as Officer Warren. We never made the connection before because she hyphenated, but this officer just so happens to be Samantha Potts’s mother. She also happens to be the officer who was stationed outside of Will’s home the night he was murdered. And surprise as it may be, the father - Jim Potts - has no alibi for that night. Security footage from a house across from his shows him leaving right before the murder and coming home right after. There’s your influenced participant, resident genius.”

The room fell into dead silence. It blanketed them all, heavy and stifling. Spencer simply swallowed thickly and stepped back, dropping down into a chair. “Samantha didn’t kill Will. Her mother did.”

“But… a woman? Do we really think a woman would be capable of killing a child like that?” JJ asked hesitantly, crossing her arms over her chest and tipping her head to the side. 

Spencer answered nearly immediately with, “While uncommon, women killing children is not unheard of. Especially in this case, in which the mother perceived that the murder was for her daughter’s benefit. It’s similar to how mother bears are overly aggressive when her cubs are with her. She will not hesitate to take out any threat to her children.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before finishing his explanation. 

“Mothers will do just about anything to protect their offspring.”

~~~~

The next few hours seemed to go by in a blur. It was a weird end for a case, considering that the team had solved it without being on scene. They were able to get the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and the local police department on a call to explain the situation; surprisingly, Spencer did most of the talking. He explained the recent findings with the help of Garcia, to which the local law enforcement agencies used in their subsequent arrest of Pamela Warren-Potts and Jim Potts. All in all, the whole thing was… weirdly simple. 

It was late when Spencer and Derek arrived home. The twists and turns of the day had left them both swathed in exhaustion, and they didn’t bother with anything besides changing into pajamas and crawling into bed. It was like routine when Spencer snuggled up to Derek, burying his face against the man.

“Can we talk about today?” Derek whispered, his breath ruffling the hair on Spencer’s head. 

Spencer tensed, mumbling a quiet and muffled, “Which part?” 

He could feel Derek holding back a laugh from the absurdity of it all. Which part? Hell if either of them knew.

“Starting with the picture.” Derek sighed softly, running his hand up and down Spencer’s back soothingly. The only sounds the two could hear were the ruffling of the sheets as Derek’s hand moved and their own breaths flowing in and out of their lungs.

“Ah.” Spencer exhaled heavily. “Yeah. The picture.”

“How did it make you feel? Seeing that, and having everyone else see it?” Derek inquired gently. His voice was soothing as ever, but it didn’t stop the tears from prickling in Spencer’s eyes.

“How would you feel if the team saw a picture from your old hospital files of you and your wounds post-suicide attempt when you were a pre-teen?” Spencer grumbled, fingers twisting in the other man’s shirt when a strike of anxiety burst through his veins like lightning. 

Derek was quiet for a moment before huffing a tense laugh into the darkness. “Fair enough.”

The room fell into full silence again. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but it wasn’t an easy silence either. More so a silence like carbon monoxide; invisible, but harmful nonetheless. To the surprise of both men, Spencer was the first to break it.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m scaring you.” His voice was meek and shameful, his skin crawling.

“Oh, my pretty boy…” Derek sighed, running his fingers through Spencer’s hair soothingly. “Yeah, I won’t lie. It is scaring me. But it’s not you that’s scaring me, it’s the idea of being without you that scares me the most.”

His words send a jolt through Spencer, making him raise his head to meet his eyes. “You’re scared of losing me, not of me.” Spencer repeated slowly, quietly. He rolled the words over in his mind, examined the aftertaste of them on his tongue. Bitter, but slowly giving way to sweetness, like a sour candy. 

“Yes, baby. Exactly.” Derek pressed a kiss to his forehead, lips lingering. “Exactly.”

The lump in Spencer’s throat only grew, and he blinked back tears swiftly. The words that left him next were so quiet Derek could barely hear them, yet they were filled with an abundance of emotions nonetheless. “I promise I’m trying.”

“I know you are. I know.” The other man soothed, pulling him closer. “And I’m proud of you.”

Spencer simply nodded and sniffled. He was struggling to return to homeostasis after such a packed day, and he could barely separate his emotions from one another. The only thing he knew for sure: his suicidality faded to the background when he was working. The fog became a mist, easier to see through even though it was still uncomfortable to deal with. 

Tomorrow might be better, he reasoned with himself. 

No. Tomorrow will be better. Mindset, he reminded himself, it’s all about mindset.

That very phrase was the one Spencer fell asleep to, grasping it like a lifeline. Tight, immovable, unrelenting. A desperate hope.