96(Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters)
So... it's been well over a year since I posted an update and a year since I was last active on fanfiction. It makes me sad really, I never intended to go.
And as much as I want to say 'hey I'm back and better than ever' I can't. I keep making promises on Ao3 and I can't keep up.
For now here is what I'm going to try and aim for.
I will try to update this story every Wednesday. I have a couple of stories on Ao3 which I'll update other days of the week which is why this is only a proposed plan. I might now stick to it but I'm sure as heck going to try.
It is currently Thursday but when you see this it'll be Wednesday next week (turns out it was the Wednesday two weeks later.) I need to reread the entire story before I can start writing again. I forgot what I was even thinking back then.
Anyway, sorry for such a long intro. I just wanted to add that the only reason I was motivated to do this was because of the reviews on this story. There were only one or two new ones but seeing people still waiting for an update and eager to read just made me so happy.
I hope I can do you justice.
Okay here we go. (Oh also since I last saw you all I graduated university in creative writing with a first class honours.)
Enjoy.
"Dad?"
"You're meant to be asleep, kiddo."
Spencer looked down at his bare feet. His pyjamas were too long and the pants collected and dragged at his feet. He tilted his head when he looked back up at his dad.
"I couldn't sleep," he mumbled.
Rossi glanced at the clock and then at his bed before looking back at his eight-year-old son. He smiled and patted the bed.
Spencer climbed up hesitantly and sat on top of the covers, looking at the door and biting his lip.
"Why couldn't you sleep?"
Spencer shrugged, his eyes not leaving the door.
Rossi put a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Come on, Spencer, tell me."
"Um... I had a dream." Spencer shivered, he looked down at his dad but the moment was too long and he glanced quickly at the door. He shuffled closer to Rossi in the bed. "A bad one," Spencer clarified and Rossi reached out and pulled Spencer to him, sitting up himself to hug his only child.
"Do you wanna talk about it, kiddo?" Dave asked, hooking his chin over Spencer's shoulder so their faces were close. But Spencer was still looking at the door with wide sparkling eyes. Rossi frowned and pulled Spencer back to look into his face and confirm that his eyes were wet. "Spencer?"
"Daddy what if the bad men get me?" Spencer's frightened gaze lifted to meet Dave's.
"Never," Dave whispered, his eyebrows tilting sympathetically. Spencer's lip trembled and he wiped his face.
"What if they get you, daddy?" he mumbled. "I-I saw..." Spencer looked down, his lip tucking between his teeth. Spencer glanced back at the door but Dave took his face gently into his palm and turned Spencer back to him. He rubbed his thumb down Spencer's cheek.
Spencer whimpered and tears began to fall down his cheeks. One rolled over Dave's thumb.
"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbled. "I read one of your files."
Dave felt his heart hammer in his chest. The things in the files they sometimes took home from work gave the whole team nightmares. Dave looked at his son, tears pooling on his chin. Dave couldn't stomach the thought of his son seeing those files.
"What did you see?" he said, keeping his voice as smooth as he could. He looked at Spencer seriously as he sniffled loudly.
"I didn't read long, I-I promise!"
"What did you see?"
Spencer looked down, his shoulders shuddering with his next breath. "Drawings," he mumbled. His body shook and he closed his eyes. "Someone drew a monster."
Dave knew whose file Spencer had seen. He was making a book draft on the criminal who that file belonged to. Someone who scared even the most qualified profilers.
"Spencer it wasn't real."
Spencer's tear-streaked face rose, his eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth but took a moment to speak. "I'm not stupid, dad," he said and Dave was surprised by how grown up his young son sounded.
Dave squeezed Spencer's shoulders as the boy scowled back at him.
"Of course you're not but those drawings were not real."
"They're what his victims saw. That's what they saw! That's real!"
It was Dave's turn to frown.
"How much did you actually read?"
Dave raised an eyebrow and Spencer looked back, his face suddenly filled with determination.
"How did he kill people?"
"Spencer that's not for you to know."
"I need to be prepared." Spencer jutted his little chin out. "I don't want him to get us."
"He won't."
"You called him 'relentless,' daddy. You said he went for Uncle Derek an-"
Dave gripped Spencer's shoulder and shook his head, effectively cutting his son off. "I want you to rethink everything you read," he said. He spoke slowly. "I know you can't forget it and you certainly read much more than you should have. You shouldn't have opened that file! Or any."
Spencer looked away. Dave shook him gently. "You know the rules. You don't look into my work. It gives me nightmares let alone you."
"But that doesn't matter."
"Really and what does?"
Spencer bit his lip. "Keeping safe from him."
"He is locked away."
Spencer's face brightened suddenly. "He is?"
Dave nodded curtly. "Yea. He's gone away and he'll be there forever, okay?"
Spencer frowned a little. "You promise?"
"I promise. He's never going to get daddy, or Derek, and especially not you."
Spencer looked a little unsure and he glanced back at the door one last time before Dave pulled him in for a hug.
"I will never let anyone hurt you. You got that, bambino?"
Spencer nodded into Dave's neck.
Dave pulled back a little and smiled at Spencer. "Now you've got to promise never to snoop again."
Spencer smiled. "I promise," he whispered.
Dave let Spencer share his bed that night. He lay awake for a long time trying to think of anything other than the lie he'd just told his trusting child.
But the lie didn't mean anything, Scratch would never find them.
David Rossi sat with his head in his hands. JJ and Penelope were sat either side of him on the couch, Penelope's hands hovering close to Dave's shoulder, desperate to touch him.
Aaron stood behind the kitchen counter, his arms folded as he stared at the window opposite. His only son was leaning on the counter beside him, his head resting in defeat on his palm.
Morgan was pacing angrily in the main corridor. Emily watched him from the doorway.
Luke and Tara were sat on the small couch opposite Rossi, looking nervous and a little uncomfortable.
The scene was eerily similar to their normal family gatherings but the atmosphere was in total opposition.
Finally, Jack looked up at his father and spoke. His eyes were wet and his lips shook. "Is this all we're going to do?" he said hoarsely. Aaron didn't look at him so Jack stood up, slamming his hands on the counter. "Are we just going to wait?!" he said, his voice edging on snapping.
Aaron blinked slowly, his gaze leaving the counter and meeting his son's young eyes. Jack raised his eyebrows and his glare softened.
"This is what he wants," Jack said. "He wants us to wait on him. Can't we do anything?"
"We feel the same," JJ said and she looked quickly at Dave's bowed head before turning to look at Jack. "This is how all those families we work with feel." She bit her lip and fell back into her cushioned space between Dave and the arm of the couch. "It's torture."
"But you're not ordinary," Jack said. "You work for the FBI. Spencer works for the FBI, you guys should be leading the search."
"We know the profile, Jack. We have no jurisdiction. We all have a personal connection to the case and under no circumstance are we allowed to be involved."
Morgan grunted loudly in the hall and his stomping feet rounded the corner. Emily stepped back from the door as Derek marched in like a storm.
"It's bullshit," he yelled, making Tara jerk upright on the couch. "How are we meant to just sit here and let them deal with this?! We know Scratch!"
"Emotions will cloud our jud-"
"Oh that's bullshit, Aaron, and you know it. Remember Haley!?"
Jack looked away quickly. Aaron glared up at Morgan who felt a sudden pang of guilt deep in his gut.
Morgan sighed and shook his head, looking down at the floor as he did. "Sorry," he muttered. "I just can't take this. He has my nephew." Morgan's voice cracked with the word 'nephew' and he reached up and ran his hand over his head. "And we know what he's capable of."
Garcia shifted on the couch and sniffed. She stood up abruptly and when Morgan reached out she pulled away, hurrying to the door.
"Baby-"
"I feel sick," she whispered as she walked from the room, her heels clicking sharply toward the restroom.
Morgan closed his eyes and walked back into the wall, leaning heavily into it as he swallowed back his own sickness. His mind wandered to what may be happening to his nephew. He thought of whether Spencer was even still alive.
"They're right, Aaron." Dave rubbed his hands against his knees, looking around with determination. "Scratch wants me. He wants to talk to me. The team leading this investigation don't know that. He will hurt Spencer if we don't give him what he wants."
"Dave-"
"I don't care. I negotiate with unsub's, I can negotiate with some pompous sheriff."
"What about the director?"
Dave stared at Aaron before he shrugged. "He can't fire me."
"They could arrest you."
"If I see my son again I'll put the handcuffs on myself."
Spencer woke up slowly and then all at once, as if he'd not meant to shut his eyes in the first place.
He didn't remember shutting his eyes- only that he hadn't intended on falling asleep.
Spencer sat up. He was laying on the floor, sprawled across an old rug, the white fringe coming away from the red border. Spencer rubbed his fingers over the black diamond pattered climbing up the rug. He glanced around and found bookshelves towering around him. The titles seemed to be cantered on law with the word itself emboldened on at least half of the spines.
There was a desk, placed just where the rug ended and having a plush leather chair tucked into the kneehole. There seemed to be little indications of wear in the black leather, as if whoever owned it didn't sit in it often.
Spencer got to his knees with a wince. Sleeping on the floor was not the most comfortable. He stood and looked around the room again. Spencer noticed change piled up on the desk beside a dried out inkwell with a pen sticking up from it. There were files open on the desk and an empty glass of what Spencer assumed had been scotch judging by the dark stain left in the bottom of the crystal cut glass.
Spencer didn't recognise this office. It seemed devoid of any particular character, unlike his dad's office which practically smelled of the older man.
Spencer rubbed his eyes and turned to the door. He moved closer to it and extended a hand to grab the handle. Just before his hand met the cool brass door handle it twitched. Spencer stepped back, dropping his hand.
The handle shuddered again, trembling downwards.
"Hello?" Spencer called out to whatever was behind the heavy wood door. No response came back and Spencer took a few steps back until his legs were pressed against the desk.
The door handle lurched downward and Spencer's stomach did the same. The door clicked off its locks and the hinges gave way. It opened slowly enough to keep the figure behind it in the shadow of the hall.
Spencer fumbled behind him for anything he could use to possibly defend himself.
The figure stepped inside, the light flooding over its gaunt face. Spencer gasped, his fingers falling from the pen jutting out of the ink well. It was just as well since the cheap fountain pen wouldn't do much in terms of defence.
The figure was frowning but a long smirk began to contort its dark face.
Spencer grasped the edge of the desk to keep his legs from giving out.
The man was still smirking as he stepped forward, releasing the door handle as he did.
"Spencer," he said. The voice was the same. Spencer's next breath got stuck in his throat.
"It's been a long time."
Spencer squeezed his eyes shut. "You're dead," he whispered. He was too scared to look at the man again but when he laughed Spencer's eyes shot open and he moved frantically around the desk, putting distance between him and the familiarly hideous man.
The grotesque form of William Reid continued to chuckle as Spencer fumbled with the desk drawers.
"How can I be dead?" he asked. "This is my office. And here I am. And here you are. You came crawling back, boy."
Spencer yanked open another drawer and tore through the paperwork, looking for something to use as a weapon.
"You're not real," Spencer yelled, glaring across at Reid who had gotten closer. "You're dead!"
"Is that what daddy told you?"
Spencer ignored him, ripping another drawer open and rifling through it.
"You know he changed the DNA results?"
Spencer shook his head. He pulled out a half-full bottle of scotch from one of the lower drawers and threw it across the floor.
"He was never your daddy."
"Shut up."
Spencer pulled the bottom drawer open.
"I made you, that's why you're the way you are. You're like me."
Spencer saw the little hand gun sat conveniently in the centre of the otherwise empty drawer.
"And we were made for each other. You enjoyed it."
Spencer grabbed the gun without any further hesitation. He quickly aimed it at William, his jaw clenching angrily.
"SHUT UP!" Spencer shouted. "You are nothing!"
"Are you sure about that?" William reached up and slowly loosened his tie.
The gun trembled in Spencer's hands. His palms were sweating, making the gun slick and uncomfortably warm.
William removed his tie.
"You can never get rid of me," he said, undoing his top shirt button.
Spencer aimed the gun, levelling it with Williams heart.
"I have. You're dead," Spencer said but the confidence he'd hoped to imbue was undermined by the quiver in his voice.
"You can't get rid of me because I am you." William had the fourth button undone and he kept going. "We are the same."
Spencer pulled the trigger.
William staggered back, his shirt now open and bloody, revealing a bullet hole in the centre of his chest.
William looked back at Spencer, his body fighting to remain standing. He grinned, his teeth painted with blood.
"Good shot," he said. He stumbled back, blood bubbling out his lips.
Spencer watched him in horror. His own body was shaking. The gun was still tightly clutched between his sweaty hands.
William fell to the floor after a theatrical show of coughing up blood. He choked on it as it pooled in his torn lungs.
A hand grabbed Spencer's arm, pushing it down. Spencer jerked, glancing to his side, ready to aim the gun again.
He faltered when he saw Aaron stood there next to him. It had only been him and Reid but Aaron was there now, looking back at Spencer, his eyes filled with fear.
"Give me the gun," Aaron said. His voice, though stern, wobbled.
Spencer looked down at the gun and then back at Aaron who was glancing at William Reid still spluttering across the room.
"Is it safe?" Spencer mumbled. As he spoke the room behind Aaron faded into a warmer setting. The familiarity of it helped Spencer breathe normally again.
"Yes, you're hallucinating but I'm here and I'm real. You're safe." Aaron held a hand out, the other hand on Spencer's shoulder reassuringly.
There was a window behind Aaron now, casting warm light over them.
Aaron laid his hand over the gun carefully. "Now give me the gun."
Spencer gave Aaron the gun without anymore hesitation. If Aaron was there then he was safe. Spencer's shoulders sagged with relief.
"It's okay," Aaron said. There were tears in his eyes. "You were hallucinating."
"It felt so real," Spencer said. Aaron pulled him into a hug. Spencer let him but Aaron seemed tense, his body stiff in the embrace.
"I know. It was an accident."
Spencer could hear the sound of crying then. He pulled away from Aaron with a frown.
He turned his head to look back at William Reid but Aaron grabbed him.
"No! Don't look!"
"Why? William is dead- you said it was... I was... hallucinating."
Spencer turned again, despite Aaron's efforts to stop him. He was scared by the tears streaming down Aaron's face.
"Spencer don't-"
Aaron was right. It had been a hallucination. William Reid wasn't on the floor. David Rossi was. His body lay in the centre of their kitchen, the bay windows throwing light on his still form, making the blood around him practically glow in its vibrancy.
"NO!" Spencer tried to go to his father but Aaron held him back.
"No, Spencer, no."
"DAD! No!"
Spencer began to sob, fighting with all his might to get to his dad who was already dead, his blood soaking JJ and Derek's knees as they tried to stop anymore from leaving the entry wound. The one Spencer had inflicted.
Spencer looked around, time seeming to move slower as he took in his childhood home. They were in the large kitchen. There was food on the counter and drinks already poured out at places on the table.
They were having a meal, like they normally would.
Will was stood in the kitchen, across from Dave, his hands blocking Henry and Hank from moving past him. They were all watching Spencer with horrified looks on their faces.
Derek glanced up from Dave. He glared at Spencer.
JJ was sobbing over Dave's still form.
Garcia had an empty glass in her hand, the contents spilled down her purple dress as she stared at Spencer with wide frightened eyes. Spencer could hardly breathe.
"It wasn't him!" Spencer cried. He looked at Garcia desperately. He saw her lips tremble. "It's not... it was... it's not dad!" Spencer couldn't breathe now.
"It's not him! He's not-"
"Spencer!" Aaron pulled Spencer back to face him but Spencer's eyes drifted back to his dad. Derek put his fingers to Dave's pulse point.
"Help him," he cried. "Please save him, Derek!"
"Look at me, Spencer." Aaron shook Spencer until they met gazes.
"You killed him," Aaron said. Spencer shook his head.
"He's not going to die," Spencer said. "please don't let him."
"You murdered him."
Spencer stared at Aaron, his mouth open. Aarons lips quivered into a smile. "You did what we all wanted to do. You did it, his own son." Aaron laughed.
"Stop it, Aaron." Spencer tried to pull away.
Aaron gripped him tighter. "You did good, kid."
Spencer stared at Aaron who was still grinning.
He looked back at his dad but he was gone, the blood replaced by a red rug.
He turned back to Aaron but he too was gone.
Mr Scratch was smiling back at him.
"Dad!" Spencer's voice was raspy and weak. He was on his knees, his body sagging back as the room melted away from his childhood home. "Dad...?" Spencer turned but couldn't see where his father had been. There was no one but him and Scratch.
"You see what I do now?" Scratch said. Spencer dragged his tired eyes back up to the unsub.
Scratch grinned, clapping his hands together. "You did great, kid. This is going to be fun."
Dave is not dead, that was all hallucinations, I swear. It was a hallucination in a hallucination.
Anyway, it's good to be back, hopefully I can keep it that way.
Hope everyone is well.
Let me know your thoughts in the reviews.