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Pretty Boy	By : Wagamama_hime Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 4813 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS Corporation. This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit from its publication.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter Six
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole property of the CBS Corporation. This work of fiction has been created purely for entertainment purposes and I am profiting in no way.
A/N: So, hi again everyone, and thanks for coming back for another dose of Pretty Boy! In this chapter we'll finally get to hear some of Spencer's back story (told mostly through flashback). It's going to be a long chapter (32pp last time I checked). But hopefully not too depressing that you don't want to come back. The ending/beginning of the flashback will be denoted by '(xxx)' and breaks between the flashback scenes will be denoted by '(())()).' I had a lot of trouble with making these show up while I was uploading, so I hope that the formatting doesn't back fire on me u.u. I'm definitely still trying to get a hang of it and the chapters always look a bit strange when I post…
TRIGGER warning: Discussions/depictions of the sexual abuse of a minor (I don't think it's super graphic, but you'll have to judge for yourself)
Thank you to everyone who left comments and subscribed/favorited! Special shout outs to my beta Eskimita! 3
Enjoy!

Derek sipped his coffee and sighed to himself as he thought about the events of the past hour. Yet again, he had been the recipient of a nerve-wracking middle-of-the-night call from Spencer Reid. This time, however, he had already been awake. He did not want to spend much time rehashing why he had been unable to sleep, the vestiges of that disturbing dream lurking at the periphery of his consciousness. The guilt and shame he was feeling would likely consume him if he let himself linger too long.
After speaking with Hotch about the rushed account the kid had given him over the phone, the unit chief told Derek the team would head straight to the station. Spencer would come with the on-duty officer stationed outside his apartment. The agents had all immediately piled into one of the dark SUVs and made their way over. As soon as he stepped through the doors and had a moment to himself to think clearly, Derek felt a sense of dread at the thought of seeing Spencer so soon after his… 'vivid' dream. And when Derek saw Spencer being escorted into the lobby approximately 20 minutes after the agents had arrived, Derek went out of his way to avoid eye contact.
There was a lot of activity and for the first few minutes, as J.J. helped usher Spencer into one of the small interview rooms, Derek was able to avoid any and all interaction with the boy. He didn't even greet him. But, after the door closed and he was alone with Spencer, J.J. and Hotch, Derek could feel the heavy weight of Spencer's eyes on him. He knew Spencer's eyes were searching for his, and overtaken by guilt, Derek quickly glanced up and forced a tight-lipped smile. Spencer looked shaken up, eyes wide and face pale, but he returned a small smile. Derek quickly looked away, but not fast enough to miss the hurt look that replaced Spencer's smile. Wanting to kick himself for causing Spencer to make a face like that, Derek instead positioned himself against the wall, taking a back seat to the action, as J.J. took a seat at the table, and Hotch hovered nearby.
"Spencer," Hotch began as he motioned to a seat, indicating the boy should sit down, "we need to get a better idea of what transpired in that call you received about an hour ago."
Spencer lowered himself into the offered seat and ran a shaky hand through his tousled hair. Glancing at the younger man and taking in his tired eyes and unkempt appearance, Derek wondered to himself if Spencer had gotten any sleep at all.
"O-ok… I'll tell you whatever you need to know," Spencer said softly.
Derek felt his hands close into fists. He really wanted to reach out and touch Spencer. Give the boy some sort of comfort. But, for right now he knew he had to keep his distance. At least until he worked through his conflicted emotions.
Hotch looked back at Derek, as if to indicate he expected the younger agent to take over the interview. But Derek knew that he didn't yet trust himself to be alone in a room with Spencer. The images from the dream would bubble up every time he let his thoughts wander.
"I…" Derek began as he looked away from Hotch and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think J.J. should handle the interview."
Both J.J. and Hotch looked at him with surprise, and Derek could feel Spencer's eyes on him, although he had no idea what expression the boy was making.
Hotch paused for a moment, but then nodded and turned to J.J.
"I think that's a good idea. We'll be outside," Hotch informed her.
J.J. smiled at Spencer who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.
Hotch walked over to the door and opened it, motioning for Derek to follow him out. Avoiding making eye contact with the small, hunched over form seated at the table, Derek pushed away from the wall and followed Hotch out the door. As the door closed behind him, Derek could hear J.J. speaking to Spencer in a soothing voice and asking the boy if he wanted any coffee before they started.
Outside, Derek stood next to Hotch, silently watching the interview through the two-way mirror. They were both surprised by the information they learned. Sitting across from J.J. and staring almost vacantly at his hands, Spencer repeated the phone conversation he had had with the unknown male word for word. When J.J. questioned him on his certainty, and suggested that maybe he had misheard or misremembered any part of the conversation, Spencer had informed her that he had an eidetic memory. That was news to Derek.
Listening to the content of the conversation, which was more in-depth than the little Spencer had been able to tell him during their rushed phone conversation, Derek was disgusted by the implications of the Unsub's words. The Unsub had made it clear—the purpose of the collar was to tell Spencer that he owned him. He had also admitted to killing LaRoux for Spencer. Derek wondered how that knowledge would affect the boy. What he found the most distressing, however, was the Unsub's unambiguous intent to come back for Spencer. He had told the boy to wait for him. Derek wondered how long it would be before the Unsub acted on his promise.
Hotch had also seemed disturbed by the implications of the phone call and his usually stoic face was creased with worry.
"Garcia traced the call but she wasn't able to get any useful information." Hotch informed Derek. "She said the call came from a payphone…on Spencer's street."
Derek couldn't control himself as he slammed his hand against the wall in anger.
"This son of a bitch was standing outside Spencer's apartment as he made the call?" Derek growled out.
"Seems so…" Hotch said.
"He's got a hell of a lot of nerve!" Derek responded.
"Well… we profiled him as meticulous and efficient. It's not surprising that boldness would come along with that. After doing this for so long and getting away with it I'm sure he's confident in his abilities and doesn't think he'll get caught," Hotch offered, objectively.
A silence passed between the two agents as they continued to watch J.J through the glass pane. They could see her struggling to get Spencer to come out of the shell he had burrowed himself into. It was a slow pace, but little by little Spencer was becoming more responsive to her questions.
After a moment Hotch spoke up again, eyes still trained on the interview.
"It… might be time to for us to step in and take a more active role in protecting Spencer. It doesn't sit well with me that he was able to get into Spencer's building twice, and was even so bold as to stand on the street and call him even though he knew there was an officer stationed there. I don't want to think how easily it would be for him to just break into Spencer's apartment and take what he wants…" Hotch said somberly.
Derek kept his eyes down, unwilling to show them to Aaron, not sure what he would give away if he did.
"I…I can do that Hotch," he volunteered.
The exhausted sigh he heard in response made him cringe a bit.
"You can't do it by yourself, Morgan. We'll have to rotate. This is a big case and I'll have to use you when and where I feel is most advantageous. And we need to stay focused for today when Rossi and Prentiss come back with the California case files. Deciding how we're going to go about divvying up the responsibilities will have to wait until later in the day. Until then, I'm going to leave the police detail on him." Hotch said.
"Understood… I just want to be the first one to step up. I… I feel kind of responsible since I keep telling him we'll protect him, but he keeps getting hurt…" Derek said with a sigh.
Hotch turned to face his subordinate.
"But, Morgan, you're not responsible. No matter what happens, this is a team effort. The FBI has made a promise to Spencer; it's not a personal one from you. You don't have to carry this on your shoulders all by yourself. We'll figure out a way to do this together. " Hotch told him.
Derek nodded silently, but he still couldn't look at Hotch.
The interview came to an end soon after that, and Derek watched as J.J. guided Spencer out into the hallway. The two agents walked over to meet her. As Derek came close he could see Spencer was standing close to J.J., as if taking shelter in her presence.
Derek felt compelled to try to work past his reservations and engage with Spencer. Even though his guilt was causing his stomach to clench uncomfortably, he knew that was no reason to turn his back on Spencer. Especially now that they had heard the extent of the Unsub's threat.
"Hey, kid," Derek said, trying to gain Spencer's attention. But it seemed Spencer wanted nothing to do with him. The snub stung more than Derek wanted to admit.
"Uh… I'm sorry things are getting so out of control. But we're going to step up our surveillance and we'll be personally watching you this time, Spencer. I'll even take the first shift and come by a little later today so I can stay with you." Derek explained.
Spencer glanced up at him, his eyebrows lowered in anger.
"That's fine. I don't need that." Spencer said, curtly.
Hotch and J.J. exchanged a look.
"What?" Derek asked, eyebrow raised.
"I don't need your help, Agent. Thank you. Besides, I have things to do today." Spencer said as he locked eyes with Derek.
"Things to do? Kid, are you serious right now? I think you need to stay put. There's a killer after you," Derek responded, feeling anger starting to build in his stomach.
Hotch and J.J. seemed about to intervene when Spencer let out an angry huff.
"I don't care what you think. I have to visit my mother." Spencer said, matter-of-factly.
"Visit your mother? Don't you think this might be a good day to skip?" Morgan barked at him.
"No!" Spencer snapped, petulantly.
Seeing that the two would very soon devolve into a heated argument in the middle of the police station, J.J. put up her hands up to get their attention.
"Maybe you should let someone go with you then?" she offered, looking at Spencer.
"Fine! Whatever. But not him," Spencer said as he pointed at Derek.
Derek's eyes widened and he started to respond when Hotch placed a hand on his arm and shook his head, effectively bridling the agitated agent.
J.J. pursed her lips as she looked between the three men. She then sighed.
"Spencer, we still need you to sign the statement you gave. How about you come with me?" she asked as she motioned towards the front desk, obviously trying to distract Spencer.
The boy frowned but agreed, and followed behind the blonde agent.
Derek watched as Spencer turned away from him and couldn't help but notice the dirty look the boy shot him over his shoulder.
Hotch walked Derek into the break room and watched as the younger man angrily stormed over to the coffee table.
"So… that was interesting," Hotch stated, eyebrow raised in surprise.
The unit chief had thought Spencer had warmed up to Derek. And it had seemed like Spencer was happy to see Derek when he first arrived at the station. But it was apparent something had changed between them. He was sure it was related in some part to Derek's obvious awkwardness around Spencer and his refusal to interview him. While Hotch was glad Derek had backed off and was allowing the team to function as it was supposed to, he couldn't say he necessarily understood why Derek had done so.
"I don't know what's wrong with that kid, Hotch! He's so reckless." Derek huffed as he began pouring hot coffee into one of the disposable cups. "This is why I can't feel comfortable letting others watch him."
"Well, let me know if you change your mind about wanting to be the first assigned to watching him," Hotch teased with a small upturn of his lip as he patted Derek on the shoulder. "I'm going to go get the copies of his statement. You take some time to cool off. "
Derek rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah," Derek said, as he frowned into his coffee.
And that was how J.J. found him when she walked back into the break room a few minutes later.
"So, everything's squared away with Spencer." She announced. "He… seems a bit stand-offish with you. What's that about?"
Derek gave her a look, making it clear he had no intention of answering that question.
"Ok…" she said with an eye roll, as she made her way over to the coffee station.
"He did explain to me why he's so unwilling to pass on seeing his mother today, though. You know she's not well. So, Spencer believes it's really important for her stability if he maintains his weekly visits. Besides, he also said that seeing his mother makes him feel better," J.J. said with a soft smile, "so I think this'll be good for him."
"I see that, J.J. But, he's being stalked. I think his safety is first priority," Derek stated, all signs of hostility gone from his voice.
"True, but I also think his mental well-being is just as important to protect as his physical one. He'll have a uniformed officer take him up there and stay with him the whole time. You don't have to worry, Derek." J.J. said. .
Before Derek could respond, he saw Spencer through the open doorway. The boy was flanked by Hotch on one side and a uniformed officer on the other. Derek watched as Hotch laid a hand on Spencer's shoulder and motioned to the officer who was holding his hand out to the boy. Spencer then nodded shyly and shook the other man's hand. Hotch said something to the boy and then motioned to the doors. The officer then led Spencer out, and, just like that, the boy was gone.
Hotch walked back to where J.J. and Derek were watching from and signaled to them.
"Ok, it's 2:15," he said as he glanced down at his watch. "I think we should all head back to the hotel and try to get as much sleep as we can. We have to be ready to go again at 9 and I need you all sharp."
Derek nodded silently, eyes still trained on the glass doors Spencer had just departed from. He hoped the kid would be okay, and hoped even more that the uniformed officer could be trusted to watch him carefully. Derek also knew that he would have to do some work to gain Spencer's trust again. It wasn't fair that he had given the kid the cold shoulder just because he felt too guilty to look him in the eye. He knew he couldn't tell Spencer the real reason, but he could at least try to make him understand it hadn't been personal.
"Derek?" J.J. asked as she leaned against the door.
Looking up, Derek could see that both Hotch and J.J. were waiting near the exit, giving him curious looks.
"Sorry, guys," he said, forcing a smile. "Not even coffee's enough to make up for all this missed sleep. Hopefully I'll zone out less once I get some rest."
J.J. gave a laugh of agreement.
"Come on, then! The longer we wait for you the less time we get to spend in our beds," she said as she held the door open for him.
Chuckling softly, Derek nodded his agreement and followed them out the door.

Eight hours later, Spencer was walking into the recreation room of the Bennington Sanitarium. Officer McCarthy, who Spencer thought was quiet but kind, had been nice enough to stand out in the hallway. Spencer appreciated that. He had never brought another person with him on his visits to the Sanitarium. He felt like it was in some way an invasion of his mother's privacy to bring a stranger into what she had slowly grown to consider her zone of safety.
Noticing his mother sitting at the farthest corner of the room in front of the window and with a book in her lap, Spencer felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. His mother was staring off out the window, chin resting thoughtfully on her fist, as if she was deep in thought. Knowing Diana Reid and her brilliant mind, Spencer was sure she was probably currently debating some well-known 15th century literature critic, and most likely winning.
Chuckling to himself at the thought, Spencer made his way across the room until he came to a stop at Diana's side.
"H-hey, Mom," he said softly as he reached out and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Diana jumped slightly, startled by the touch, but when she turned her eyes lit up with recognition and Spencer let out a sigh of relief. Today was one of her 'good' days. She knew who he was.
"Spencer!" Diana said with a vibrant smile. "You came to see me. How wonderful!"
"Yeah, Mom. Of course I came. I wouldn't miss our visits for the world." Spencer said as he lowered himself in the seat beside her. "How are you?"
Diana smiled softly as she adjusted her house coat and ran a hand absently over her short, blonde hair.
"As good as I can be, baby. But, don't worry about me. How are you?" she asked, looking into Spencer's eyes.
Spencer glanced away and shrugged.
"I'm fine, Mom, don't worry." He told her.
Diana made a sort of clucking sound in the back of her throat.
"Spencer, I'm your mother. Mothers know when things aren't right with their children," she informed him simply, as if she were talking to a child.
Even with his mother's insightful words, Spencer continued to avert his gaze, choosing instead to look down at his hands.
"What is it? Is it work? Is the bookstore not giving you enough hours?" she asked inquisitively.
Spencer felt his face heat up. His mother thought he worked at a bookstore. Obviously, that was a lie he had told her himself. But he felt badly that he was lying to her and every time she brought it up, he felt even guiltier. But it wasn't like he could tell her he took his clothes off for money…
"Uh… everything's fine there, Mom. I'm g-getting enough hours," he said as he forced himself to look up and smile at her.
Diana frowned as she looked at her young son. He had grown so much over the years, her lanky little boy. But, even now, at his impressive height, Spencer still sat, curled in on himself, as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible. And his shoulders were hunched, as usual. She knew Spencer always carried so much on those thin shoulders. He always felt that it was his job to deal with things on his own. And she knew that much of the reason for this had to do with her and her sickness, but she would never want her son to look so…defeated.
"If it isn't the job, then what is it honey?" she asked softly as she leaned over and clasped her hand over his.
"I-it's nothing Mom," Spencer said as he squeezed her hand back.
The two Reids stared at each other silently for a few moments.
"Spencer Reid," Diana said firmly. "I'm still your mother. Tell me what's going on with you."
Spencer blinked in surprise, suddenly brought back to his mother during his childhood, and reminded of the times when things weren't so bad… weren't so shaky.
Smiling ruefully, Spencer bowed his head and licked his dry lips.
"I…Mom, what do you do if you feel like everything's slipping out of your control and you… you just don't have any idea how to handle it?" he asked softly.
He felt Diana's hand squeeze his even tighter.
"What… are you talking about Spencer?" she asked, voice sounding pained.
Hearing the distress in his mother's voice, Spencer quickly looked up with wide eyes, suddenly realizing what his mother must've thought.
She thinks I'm showing signs of getting sick…sick like her, Spencer thought with panic.
"No, Mom. No, it's nothing like that," he offered comfortingly as he took both her hands in his.
He felt her physically relax as she tightened her grip on his hands.
"Ok… that's good," she whispered quietly as she glanced around the large room, "I... I don't want you to end up somewhere like this Spencer."
Spencer felt a sharp twinge of pain at that admission, wondering if she still resented him for placing her here. But he didn't see any hostility in her eyes, only sympathy.
"So… what's going on that has you so worked up?" she asked softly.
"I… I don't really know how to explain it. I'm not sure I really can, Mom." Spencer said.
"Hmm," Diana said as she looked down at the top of her son's bowed head. "Well, the first thing I would tell you to do, Spencer, is to stop thinking that you have to solve all your problems yourself."
Spencer continued to stare down at his hands, interlocked with his mother's, and said nothing.
"Look at me, Spencer," she said in that familiar, firm tone.
With no hesitation, Spencer looked up training his honey-colored eyes on his mother's.
Reaching over to stroke his face, lovingly, Diana sighed with good-natured frustration.
"You need to trust others more, baby. You have a good heart, that's rare in this day and age. And it's a wonderful thing. It gives you strength and power. And it will allow you to pick out those who will hurt you and those who are here to help you. When you find a really good person, you should keep them close to you, and rely on them. Let them help you in your times of need. There's no reason to go through any of this on your own." She said, looking at him meaningfully.
Spencer was speechless. He hadn't heard his mother talk like this in… years.
"And…you know I'm sorry I can't be there to help you," she stated.
Spencer was quick to try to assuage her concerns, but she stopped him before he could speak.
"No, no, Spencer. Let me say this. I'm your mother. All I ever want is to be there every day for you…to protect you. You had to grow up so fast and instead you ended up being the one taking care of me. All I could ever hope for you is that you find someone who can take care of you just as well as you did for me," she said with a soft smile.
"Oh, mom…" Spencer breathed out, feeling his chest constrict with emotion. "You know I never-"
"Spencer," she said cutting him off. "I want you to enjoy your life, you hear me? Stop worrying about me. And remember to take care of yourself. You're so skinny! Are you eating enough?"
Spencer found himself chuckling, and quickly blinking away the stinging tears that had threatened to form in the corners of his eyes. He knew what his mother was doing. This was an age-old conversation they always had. And she was trying to make him laugh.
"Yeah, yeah, Mom" he said, with a smile. "I'm eating."
"I don't believe that for a minute, Spencer Reid. 'Eating' doesn't mean drinking four cups of coffee and eating a Rice Krispy treat once in a while when you remember."
Spencer blushed at this accusation. He had definitely had two cups of coffee and a Rice Krispy bar for breakfast this morning.
"See what I mean!" Diana said as she shoved his shoulder playfully. "You'll have to have lunch with me, then. I'll make sure Dr. Peters tells the staff to prepare you a plate. And they'll pile it high with vegetables and protein for you."
"Oh, come on, Mom," Spencer whined, but couldn't help his laugh.
"Spencer, I won't take 'no' for an answer," Diana said firmly.
"Ok, ok." Spencer smiled. "I'll be honored to join you for lunch, then."
"Good, I can introduce my handsome son to all my friends here. I'm sure they'll be green with envy," she said teasingly.
"Ugh," Spencer groaned, as he rolled his eyes.
"Just humor your mother, dear," she told him.
"Fine, fine," Spencer replied with a small smile.
Smiling in triumph, Diana squeezed Spencer's hand reassuringly, and Spencer squeezed hers back, silently telling her his thanks. Words were unnecessary.

The members of the BAU stood tiredly around their borrowed conference table as they sorted through their breakfast sandwich and coffee orders. Prentiss and Rossi were just as tired as the rest of their team as they had stayed longer in Los Angeles than intended because they had taken time late in the day to re-interview some of the victims' loved ones. Hotch had updated them on the previous night's occurrences and both agents expressed their concern for the young Spencer Reid.
"This is getting ridiculous," Emily said as she settled into one of the seats around the table and situated her breakfast in front of her. "How does this guy keep slipping past us?"
Hotch did little more than grunt as he took a seat as well. It was really starting to irk the team leader that this Unsub was proving to be so resourceful. It went against his nature to keep calm in the face of such a challenge to his team's efficacy, but as the face of the BAU, he couldn't let his ire show.
"We need to stop chasing this guy," Rossi said, as he and the other agents took their places at the table. "How do we get in front of him?"
"Only with a complete profile. We have to figure out who he is." Hotch said, an edge to his voice.
The other four agents in the room exchanged concerned glances.
Hotch then leaned over and pressed the speed dial button on their phone.
After one ring, the call engaged and Hotch responded with a curt, "Garcia."
"Good morning, my doves!" she said cheerily.
"Garcia," Hotch said, getting to business quickly. "We need to know all you were able to gather. We can't continue to work with such a slipshod profile."
Sensing the mood, Garcia quickly adapted.
"Yes, sir. I actually made quite a lot of leeway since we last talked. First, I was able to get the membership list from the club. Mum's the word on how I managed to do that, though," Garcia said.
Derek couldn't help but smile at the tech analyst's words.
"The membership consists of a bunch of big shots. And to get in, you have to pay an annual fee of $5000. Not an impossible amount, but this is definitely not the kind of money an average person dishes out for a hobby. This fee gives access to the club and the main shows, but doesn't include the drinks, food, or any of the lap dances, champagne room service, or private shows. However, it does allow members immediate access to those off-site events Spencer mentioned." Garcia informed them.
The agents absorbed the information silently as they began to dig into their meals and listened to the sound of her quick fingers typing in the background.
"Apparently, when members enter the club, they just have to flash some sort of pendant, which apparently changes every year. Because that pendant is enough of an identifier, the management doesn't keep a list of those who enter the club and, thus can always, conveniently, deny knowledge of who is in attendance at any given time. They also don't keep a guest list for the parties, I'm assuming for the same reasons. The parties are a bit more lax in exclusivity, I'm guessing since they're held at private residences, but generally only members are allowed entrance. Guests can only accompany members with special permission." Garcia explained to them.
"Wow, great job, Garcia. You were able to find out a lot. I'm afraid to ask exactly how you found all that out," J.J. said teasingly. "But, from what you're saying, it sounds like it's possible that the Unsub's name might be on that list. How many are we talking about here?"
"Well… so far it seems like it's about 1800 names. This is a master list for a couple of clubs across different towns and different states. And before you ask, yes, some of these clubs were in California but none of them were located in Arizona. The other states that house these clubs are Texas, Florida and New York. Apparently that one-time fee lets you enter any of these clubs in other states and you get the same perks." Garcia explained.
"Hmm," Rossi said as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So, the clubs may or may not be connected to how he chooses his kills. Victor LaRoux's death was the only one that took place in a club, so, as of now, that location is actually an outlier. So even if the Unsub is meeting these men in these clubs, the club hasn't been important enough for him to kill in before. Plus, if the Unsub was only killing in states that had these clubs, it doesn't explain why he killed in Arizona but chose to ignore Texas, Florida or New York. He has killed multiple times, but exclusively in California, Nevada and Arizona. He chose to stay in a relatively small radius of these three states."
"Ok, well, we know he has to have some type of money," Emily said. "$5000 a year membership must mean he has disposable income. But, for some reason he chooses to stay within a small radius so maybe something is preventing him from traveling too far from home. Maybe a job, or a family?"
"I think you're definitely on track on the money front, Emily," Garcia responded. "The LVPD faxed me over the crime scene analyst's report on the gifts that Spencer received and they were all of extremely high quality. Unfortunately, this Unsub is a clever duck because, while they were expensive, none of them were 'ultra-rare' or only sold at specialty shops.
"The flowers were off-season, so they were more expensive than regular red roses. Only 4 florists in the immediate area sell them, but they are a popular item and none of the stores keep records of items purchased with cash. The…'collar,' while plain, was made from some very nice leather and came from a specific chain of leatherworker stores. But I was informed that it could have been ordered from one of their 40 stores across the country, or even purchased online. It costs about $800. Same goes for the nameplate. That's real platinum. But again, it could have been purchased at any jewelry store in the nation. There is literally no way to track him using these items. So, sorry I couldn't be helpful there…"
"Well, hold on a minute Garcia. I do see it as being helpful. The fact that this man went to all this trouble tells me that maybe he's not doing this to impress that kid, per se…maybe he's just grown accustomed to a certain level of taste. When you have money, you gravitate towards purchasing high quality items because that's all you're used to. It wouldn't cross his mind to get run of the mill items," Rossi suggested.
"Hmm… I'm not surprised you know that," Emily teased as she glanced at Rossi across the top of her coffee cup, "I'm sure your boots cost more than one of my paychecks."
Rossi shrugged with a smile, causing the other teammates to laugh.
"Well, if he's just used to having nice things it's unlikely that he only recently fell into money." Derek suggested after the chuckling died down.
"Good, that's something we can look into as well." Hotch said as he leaned closer to the phone. "Garcia, we're going to need you to whittle that list down and see if there's anyone on there with a wealthy family history and who also has a strong connection to Nevada, Arizona and California. The first kill took place in California, so that might be personal to him in some way. Follow the dates of the kills and track them to the movements of the members on that list. If anyone was in one of those states around the time of the murders, I want them flagged."
"Yes, sir," Garcia responded as she input the search parameters into her system. "It will take me some time though."
"That's fine." Hotch responded.
He then turned to Prentiss and Rossi.
"What happened with the California cases? Anything useful on that front?"
"Yes and no," Emily said, with a sigh.
"We were able to interview a few of the victims' family members and loved ones. We weren't able to see any immediate connections between the victims, though. There were some annoyed wives or spurned family members, but no one who said they weren't shocked to hear that the victim was dead. These weren't guys with targets on their backs. At least not obvious ones. They all just seemed like very ambitious men." Emily said as she shrugged.
"We did forward the information on to Garcia, however, and she said she would try to see if there were any connections that could be found on a statistical level. Any luck, PG?" she asked
"So far I've only found little hints and whispers of dirt in some of these men's lives, but nothing that could be substantiated through reports or records." Garcia answered.
"For example, one of the victims was a successful divorce attorney in Palo Alto. Apparently he was under investigation for helping his clients to fabricate information that would release them from a duty to pay alimony or child support. The story was that his clients could divorce their usually financially much worse off partners, scot-free, and the attorney would collect money under the table for having orchestrated this awful scheme. One of the wives, who ended up having to live in a homeless shelter after her husband left her, tried to file suit against the attorney but then suddenly she, and the case, disappeared."
"Ok… that's strange," J.J. said.
"Another one of the victims was an acclaimed psychiatrist. He had published a few books and even had a small tour. He was the head of a mental institution for women in Arizona. Similarly, allegations arose that he was sexually abusing his patients but no one believed them because they were mentally ill. Apparently a small investigation was undertaken, but then the medical board cleared him. But none of this appeared in the papers, and the good doctor did not have even a blemish in his professional record. I was only able to find this out through a community action blog that alleged the Board cleared him because they had been paid off." Garcia continued.
"And our first Nevada victim was a realtor who was tied up in a scandal involving the sale of houses for low-income families that were built on toxic land. There were rumors that he knowingly sold these houses to these families, taking all their savings, and leaving them with serious medical issues. But when an investigation was starting to begin, none of the witnesses would come forward and he was able to clear himself by arguing that he had no knowledge. And apparently the accusation had no impact on his professional reputation, either. At the time of his murder he was still working as a very successful realtor." Garcia stated, distaste apparent in her voice.
"So… is it possible that all of the victims have something like this in their pasts?" Emily asked.
"I haven't been able to fully investigate all of them. And I'm still trying to find some kind of dirt on LaRoux, but I think it's more than a coincidence that so many of these victims had allegations against them 'disappear' or investigations that were suddenly dropped." Garcia informed.
Hotch frowned as he absorbed the information.
"So… could the Unsub's motivation possibly be wealthy men that use their influence to avoid taking responsibility for their transgressions?" he murmured.
"We can't know for sure until Garcia finds the same connection among all the victims," Rossi offered, "but I think it's an interesting hypothesis. If these men are all wealthy it's possible they may run in similar circles as the Unusb. And if we're right, something about the fact that these men used their influence to escape justice is probably what is motivating him. So, Garcia, while you're looking for any overlap between the names of people on the list, make sure to keep an eye out for anyone who may have had something similar happen to him in his past. That may be our trigger."
"Will do, Sir," Garcia responded, fingers flying over the keyboard as she added the additional parameters to her search.
Derek had been paying rapt attention to his colleagues thoughts and suggestions, and was more than a little relieved that they were starting to build what looked to be a good profile. But he couldn't help but voice the thought that had been gnawing at him for the past few minutes.
"If that's what's motivating the Unsub, then how does Spencer play into all of this?" he asked.
The other agents looked around at each other, obviously unsure how to answer that question.
"Spencer is, and has always been, a confounding element. I'm not sure how he fits," Hotch admitted. "He isn't wealthy, and from what we were able to find, he never has been. He has no criminal record. In fact, he's too young to have made any kind of deleterious impact similar to the men we have been describing. It's unclear how he even got on to the Unsub's radar."
"He's not the Unsub's typical victim, that's for sure. Although he's definitely targeting Spencer, it seems more like he's courting him," Emily said, distaste at having had to use that word apparent in her expression. "As of now, I don't think this guy has any intention of killing Spencer… it seems more like he wants to 'keep' him."
"It's rare for an Unsub to switch focus, but maybe there's something about this kid that caught his attention… maybe changed the killing from mission-based to personal?" Rossi hypothesized.
"Right," J.J. agreed. "Spencer told us that the Unsub said he killed LaRoux for Spencer… as if he was protecting him from the man."
"So, we need to find out how the Unsub first learned about Spencer and what about him makes him special. In addition to that, we have to talk about who we're going to add to his protective detail. I think we should have agents or officers in his apartment, or at least stationed in the hallway, every night. I also need a complete background on all the victims by the end of the day, Garcia," Hotch said, directing his voice to the phone.
"And for the time being, I need each of you working on following up with those leads on the allegations we already know exist against the other victims," Hotch continued as he looked at his team.
Each agent nodded their agreement, their willingness to go above and beyond to break this case evident in each of their eyes.
"We've got a lot to cover," Hotch said as he got to his feet. "Let's get to work."

It was just starting to get dark when Spencer finally walked into his apartment. Officer McCarthy had walked Spencer up to his door, ignoring Spencer's protests that he would be fine on his own. The man even insisted on looking around the apartment to make sure nothing was out of place. Satisfied, he bid Spencer a good night and told him if he needed anything he'd be parked right outside. Spencer felt embarrassed to need to be watched so carefully, but he couldn't lie that it helped him feel somewhat safer.
Toeing off his sneakers by the door, Spencer walked across his small living room and into his kitchen. His stomach had been grumbling for most of the drive back down from Bennington. He had had a good day with his mother, and in addition to her piling his plate high and watching him like a hawk during lunch to make sure he ate every bit of it, he had played chess and completed a number of crosswords puzzles with her. After meeting quite a few of her 'friends' (all strange in their own unique ways), Spencer spent a few hours in his mother's room listening to her reading to him from Chaucer as she stroked his hair lovingly, just as she had when he was young. The day had slipped away from him quickly, and before he knew it one of the attendants was regretfully telling him visiting hours were over. He hadn't even noticed how much time had passed and that the sun was setting. Apologizing to the staff profusely, Spencer had kissed his mother goodbye and hurriedly vacated the premises.
Now he was back home, and while he felt he was thoroughly relaxed and in a better place after having seen his mother, he was shocked at how hungry he was. Sure, he had last eaten about six hours ago, but he was used to going a lot longer without meals. Eating just wasn't that important to him, lately. Now he wondered if maybe eating such a good lunch reminded his body what it was like to get regular, and nutritious, sustenance and now it was demanding to be properly taken care of. Laughing to himself a bit at the thought, Spencer pulled the door to the fridge open. His smile quickly turned to a frown.
Oh yeah, he thought to himself. I don't really do grocery shopping.
All that stared back at him in the fridge was a few bottles of water, one six-pack of beer (sans the beer he had drank yesterday), some butter, salad dressing, a few lone tomatoes, and a large container of coffee creamer. Sighing as he shut the kitchen door, he wondered where he could possibly order from.
A sudden pounding at his front door caused him to jump in shock. Fear immediately gripped him, as he wondered who it could possibly be. But, he quickly tried to talk himself down as he stepped out of the kitchen and stood in the living room, facing the closed door.
There's no way the killer could get up here. McCarthy's parked downstairs and he wouldn't let anyone get past him, right? It's probably one of your stupid neighbors, Spencer thought to himself, hopefully.
He then heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, kid! Open up! It's Agent Morgan! I know you're back, McCarthy checked in with us as you guys were leaving, so I timed it just right," Derek called from the other side of the door.
Staring in shock at the closed door from across the living room, Spencer couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Agent Morgan?" Spencer asked in shock, not moving from his spot.
"Yea, kid! It's me. Come on, open up. I've got take out and the longer you leave me out here the faster it'll go cold," Derek called from behind the door again.
Frowning to himself, Spencer considered leaving the impertinent agent exactly where he was, but an unbidden, and loud, growl from his stomach changed his mind.
Well… I shouldn't really turn down free food, Spencer thought to himself.
Sighing in exasperation, he stalked over to the door and quickly unlocked it. Grabbing the handle and swinging the door open, he stared at the smiling agent.
"Thai food," Derek said as he held up two large brown paper bags. "I hear this place is good."
Rolling his eyes, Spencer turned around and walked back into the living room.
Imagining that that would be the extent of any 'invitation' he would get to enter, Derek followed the boy into the room, nudging the door shut behind him.
"Can I ask what you're doing here, Agent Morgan?" Spencer asked as he stood across from the man, arms crossed over his chest and stance clearly broadcasting his displeasure.
"Well… I figured you could use a hot meal after all the stress from earlier. And besides, I wanted to talk to you," Derek said as he moved past the boy and into the living room, and placed the bags down on the coffee table. He then kicked off his shoes and settled on the couch.
Spencer watched with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, as the agent made himself comfortable.
Blinking himself out of his stupor, Spencer stalked around the couch and came to a stop in front of Morgan.
"You what?" Spencer asked.
"Here, come take a seat. I didn't know what you'd want so I basically got all the popular dishes. So just take whatever you like," Derek said as he began to open the bags and remove plates, utensils, containers and bottles of water.
Spencer was speechless, but did as Derek bid anyway, slowly walking to the empty side of the couch and sitting down. He stared hard at the agent, but when Derek remained silent and continued to arrange the containers on the small coffee table, Spencer let out a frustrated sigh.
"You need to tell me why you're here right now, or you need to leave." Spencer said firmly.
Sighing, Derek stopped what he was doing and turned to face Spencer. The boy was giving him a guarded look—a mixture between annoyance, sadness and distrust.
"I… I wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier," Derek said sincerely.
Spencer flinched and narrowed his eyes, his expression showing his obvious disbelief.
"I know it was totally uncalled for, and you were probably very confused… I… I was just upset about some… personal things and I took it out on you. It was unfair and I should've been able to put it aside… I shouldn't have brought that with me to work, but I did. So I'm sorry that you got the brunt of that, ok? I know it took a lot for you to open up to me yesterday and I don't want you pulling back because of something like this. I want you to know you can trust me and rely on me. I don't want to do anything to shake your trust in me, Spencer," Derek said softly.
Spencer was silent for a moment as he stared at his lap and nibbled on his bottom lip. He couldn't help but think how much of a coincidence it was that Derek had said almost the same things his mother had said to him earlier. Someone to trust and rely on, he thought to himself, wondering if maybe the agent was the kind of person his mother had been talking about.
He couldn't deny that he had been hurt by Derek's cold shoulder this morning, especially after he had confided in the agent as he had, but he also couldn't discount the fact that Derek had actually apologized. He had made the effort to come over here, bearing gifts even, to ask for Spencer's forgiveness. That meant a lot to him.
When he finally looked up at Derek, Spencer's eyes still showed a bit of doubt but the hostility was gone.
"Personal things, huh?" Spencer asked with an arched eyebrow.
Derek looked away and shrugged. Spencer thought for a second he had seen color rise to the agent's cheeks, but told himself he must have just imagined it.
"It happens, kid," Derek said simply.
Spencer sighed, and out of the corner of his eye Derek could see the boy reaching over to the containers on the table.
"You got enough food here to feed an army," Spencer commented as he inspected one of the large plastic containers.
Derek laughed, feeling the tension leave his body. It seemed like Spencer had forgiven him for the moment… or was at least willing to give him another shot.
"Well, I said I didn't know what you liked. Besides, these leftovers would be enough to keep you nice and full for a couple of days," Derek said with a grin.
Spencer pursed his lips as he glanced at Derek.
"You sound like you think I don't feed myself," he said as he popped the lid off the container he had chosen.
"No offense kid, but from the looks of you I kind of think you don't," Derek said, chuckling slightly.
Spencer groaned and rolled his eyes.
"Ugh, you're starting to sound just like my Mom," Spencer said as he glanced away and began to spoon some rice on to his plate.
Derek smiled to himself.
"How was the visit with your mom? Did it make you feel a little better?" Derek asked as he grabbed a plate and started to help himself.
Spencer paused in mid-scoop for a second, as if he were debating divulging the information, but then smiled and continued serving himself.
"Yea actually… it was really good to see her."
"I'm glad to hear that, kid. Sorry I acted like it wasn't important earlier. I was just really worried about the Unsub and when I get worked up I don't always think before speaking," Derek explained.
Spencer scoffed.
"You think I haven't picked up on that?" he asked, a teasing tone to his voice.
Derek couldn't help but laugh as well. Things were really relaxed with Spencer. Even knowing he still had to work through his conflicted emotions concerning the boy, Derek didn't feel uncomfortable around him. In fact, he had been tense all day thinking about Spencer being out of his sight and not knowing what was happening to the boy. Now that he could see him, Derek felt the tension leaving his body at the knowledge that Spencer was safe and sound.
The two then proceeded to heap their plates full of the pungent-smelling food. Spencer inhaled deeply and felt his mouth-watering. He was suddenly extremely happy that Derek was there. Picking up a fork, he began stuffing the savory food into his mouth.
Derek smiled to himself as he saw how happy the kid was. Chuckling, Derek cracked open a bottle of water and placed it in front of Spencer.
"Make sure you don't choke," Derek said, trying to keep a straight face.
Spencer rolled his eyes at him, but with cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk it was hard to take him seriously.
Swallowing pointedly, Spencer turned to Derek.
"How's the case going?" Spencer asked.
Derek sighed a bit as he sat back, stretching his arms over his head and cracking the joints in his neck. Spencer watched on, finding himself somewhat mesmerized as the man's powerful arm muscles undulated under his tight shirt. He knew the agent was probably very tired, especially since every night since he had known him he had called the man way past waking hours. So Spencer suddenly felt very guilty to be thinking about the man's physique instead of thinking, sympathetically, about how much of a toll the case must be taking on him. Turning away from the man and ducking his head, Spencer tried to occupy himself with shoveling food into his mouth.
"I think, for once, things are actually progressing somewhat smoothly," Derek told him. "Our analyst was able to find some things out about the types of victims this guy tends to pick and this information will be really useful to our profile."
"Information like what?" Spencer asked, curiously, now that he had had a moment to gather his bearings.
Derek grimaced slightly.
"Well… we don't share our profiles with the general public until it's complete, and unless we think it will be useful in helping them to protect themselves. I know you're more involved in this case than a random person on the street, but the Unsub's not targeting you the way he's been targeting those men he killed. We're actually working on a separate profile to explain why he's been so fixated on you, but so far we don't have enough information. But as soon as we know more about him, and anything that will help us keep you safe, I'll be sure to tell you," Derek offered with a small smile.
Spencer nodded his understanding. Of course he was curious and felt slightly put out that Derek was keeping information from him, but he also appreciated the man's upfront honesty. He believed the agent when he said he would let Spencer know as soon as they had something.
"And Hotch decided how he's going to divvy up the watch assignments on you." Derek continued, perking up a bit. "Hotch and Rossi are our more senior agents, so they have to maintain a constant presence at the station. So, it'll be between me, J.J. and Emily, but I'll probably be taking most of those shifts. "
Spencer tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at that. He wanted to ask the agent why exactly he would be taking more of the shifts, but Derek just continued on, apparently needing to get something else out.
"And… oh yeah… I'll be staying the night." Derek said as he watched the boy carefully. He wondered if he should have thrown in an 'If that's alright with you,' but didn't quite see the point. Even if Spencer had protested, there was no way he would be convincing Derek to leave the apartment that night.
Spencer blinked in surprise at the agent's statement.
"Um… what? Here? I don't really have any…" Spencer trailed off as he motioned around the small room.
"That's ok, kid. I'm quite used to sleeping on couches." Derek explained.
"This is a small and very uncomfortable couch, Agent Morgan. I'd feel bad if you had to sleep on this." Spencer said sheepishly. "I… I can take the couch."
Derek chuckled, mood immediately lifted by the fact that the kid hadn't flipped out on him at the suggestion of him staying over. Instead, he seemed more concerned for the agent's comfort.
"Kid, I wouldn't hear it! Besides, I would catch hell from J.J. and Emily if they knew I let you take the couch. They're like mother hens," Derek said with an eye roll.
Spencer returned a genuine and wide smile. And Derek felt his heart throb unexpectedly. He was almost floored by how beautiful Spencer looked, smiling so openly like that. Seeing him with his guard down was so rare and Derek suddenly, and selfishly, hoped that Spencer didn't share this side of him with many other people.
"I… I really like them." Spencer said with a smaller smile.
He then glanced at Derek and his cheeks reddened slightly.
"And… you're not so bad either, Agent Morgan," he admitted bashfully, as he played around with the food on his plate.
Derek blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. And it made his heart throb in his chest again—something it had been doing often that night.
"You…don't have to keep calling me that, you know?" Derek said, before he could stop himself.
Spencer looked up at him, his fork pausing on its ascent to his mouth.
"Calling you what?" Spencer asked.
"Um… Agent…?" Derek said, now wishing he hadn't started this conversation.
"Oh." Spencer said as he brought the fork down to his plate and proceeded to chew on his bottom lip.
Now he's nervous, Derek thought to himself as he watched the boy play with his lip. He could now read Spencer's many tells like he had known the boy for years. And the lip-biting was his most obvious one.
"So… what should I call you then?" Spencer asked, tilting his head to the side quizzically.
"Uh… Morgan… or, no… I guess that's what my colleagues call me. Um… Derek… Derek is fine," Derek stuttered out, unsure of why he was becoming so nervous.
"Oh." Spencer said again, blinking slowly.
But then he smiled.
"Ok… D-Derek it is then," he said, the smile becoming larger.
Derek felt his shoulders relax and he returned the boy's smile.
Talking to Derek, Spencer found himself smiling more often than he had in a long time. Just like spending time with his mother had relaxed him, Spencer felt himself relaxing in a different way. He felt comfortable with the agent, not on edge or suspicious like he spent most of his day when he interacted with others. Talking with Agent Morgan—no, Derek (Spencer thought with a smile) came easily. He even found himself teasing the agent, and surprisingly the agent playfully teased back. It was as if Derek actually liked him…liked him just for him.
But, Spencer still felt hesitant. He knew he hadn't told Derek everything about him. He honestly didn't know what the agent already knew or what he thought of him. Spencer felt it was wrong to allow Derek to help him unless he knew the truth about him. While Spencer felt uncomfortable just thinking about it, and knew it would be even harder to talk about, he also subconsciously knew that he didn't have anything to feel ashamed about—none of what had happened to him had been his fault. But that didn't stop the anxious clenching of his stomach at the thought of what Derek would think.
Would he think I'm disgusting… dirty? Spencer thought, sadly.
But Spencer knew that if he took control of the story—if he told it from his point of view—at least Derek would have heard the truth from him and wouldn't have to speculate.
As Derek sipped on his bottle of water, he observed the boy next to him. He had noticed that Spencer had grown strangely quiet after their pleasant exchange. His smile had slowly faded. He had stopped eating and was staring off in front of him, brows lowered in concentration and pink lips pressed into a grim line. He was obviously thinking about something that distressed him. All signs of the jovial and teasing banter they had been exchanging only moments before were gone.
"I…I don't fuck those men," Spencer suddenly blurted out.
Derek choked on the drink he was swallowing and turned slightly to stare at Spencer with an eyebrow raised in confusion.
"What?" he asked, in shock. He wasn't sure he had heard correctly.
Spencer blushed as he looked down at his lap and started to play with the hem of his shirt.
"I-I was just saying that I don't fuck them…if you thought that's what I did at the club…" he mumbled.
"Spencer, it's none of my business what you do, man. You don't owe me any kind of explanations…" Derek said as he set his drink down and turned fully to the reticent-looking youth. "But what brought that up all of a sudden?"
Spencer sighed, but still refused to meet Derek's eyes.
"Well, I just figured you were wondering. I mean… you haven't really asked… and I don't want you to think I… I do stuff like that," Spencer said, a bit inarticulately.
"I-it's important…" he mumbled after a moment.
Derek felt his heart clench at the sight of Spencer's discomfort. He wondered why Spencer thought his opinion was so important. But he also wondered why Spencer assumed he had a bad opinion of him. His opinion was far from that. In fact, as indicated by his dream, Derek didn't feel any disgust toward Spencer at all. He lusted after him. Derek didn't think there was anything dirty about Spencer. And he needed Spencer to know that. He wanted him to know that he wouldn't judge him for any of the decisions he had made. It was painfully apparent to Derek, just looking at the boy's tense shoulders, that he desperately wanted to feel accepted.
"So…you don't sleep with the guys from the club. That's a good thing, isn't it? I'm sure that's probably for the best anyway. You have to keep business separate," Derek said, trying to show Spencer he understood.
Spencer looked up at him with a furrowed brow (a look that Derek was quickly becoming fond of), confusion on his face.
"I don't sleep with men, at all," Spencer said flatly, like it was common sense.
Derek's eyes widened.
"Oh," the older man said, dumbly. "Really?"
Spencer cringed and felt his face burning up. He didn't know why it bothered him that Derek just assumed he was some whore that'd sleep with any guy who asked. At least that's what the agent's surprise sounded like to him…
"I don't like men, Derek," Spencer said with a frown.
But then after a pause, he said, "At least I don't think I do. I dunno... I haven't really thought that much about stuff like that... I just...after all I've seen, I don't think I'd like it. But, thankfully I didn't have to do that to get where I am now. "
Derek was silent as he digested that information. Was Spencer really telling him he'd never slept with a man before? He found that hard to believe, especially knowing the seedy tastes the club catered to. But, for some reason, the thought that Spencer had been able to avoid selling himself in that way relieved Derek. It allowed him to think that maybe Spencer had been spared some of life's more traumatic experiences.
Seeing that Derek was silent, and taking it as a signal that the older man didn't truly believe him, Spencer floundered to justify himself.
"I don't do this because I l-like it, you know! I want you to understand that." Spencer said, turning wide-eyes on the mocha-skinned agent.
"Kid…I never thought you did," Derek said carefully. "But, I also don't want you to feel ashamed of where you ended up."
"I… I didn't want to end up here," Spencer said softly, face contorting as if he were in pain.
"I know that kid…" Derek said just as softly, unsure if his voice would break the damn holding back Spencer's emotions.
"I… I dropped out of school because my mom got really sick. My dad left us when I was 10, and for years it was just me taking care of her. Then when I went off to school, I…I couldn't be there for her and she…she got sicker and sicker. She really couldn't be trusted to take her medicine and she would have these episodes. She stopped going to work. And then when she wasn't having an episode, she made me feel really guilty about being away from her. I started to feel like I was abandoning her… just like my dad had done to us. So… I just couldn't take it anymore. I didn't like her being all alone and I… I really wanted to help take care of her… to make sure she was ok. So I dropped out and moved home…
"But… even though I had been seen as a genius all throughout my life and at school I had a rude awakening when I returned home. I was 15 and wasn't old enough to do most jobs. No one cared that I was really 'smart.' Legally, there were only a few types of places that could hire me. I couldn't do just one job and make enough money to pay the mortgage and utilities, feed us, and take care of other expenses. Not to mention my mother had to take a leave of absence from the University she was teaching at. So I worked twelve-hour days split between the supermarket, the library, and a bookstore.
"E-everything was really hard. I had never worked that hard in my life, and even with all that, it was almost impossible to make ends meet. We were piling up debt left and right and I was always terrified someone would notice and come t-take me away from my mom…" Spencer said, choking back a sob.
Derek's brow furrowed in concern, dismayed at what Spencer had to go through at such a young age. No one deserved something like that. He thought about how alone and how scared Spencer must have been.
"What…what about your father?" Derek asked carefully.
Spencer looked up at him, a glare apparent on his face, but it did little to distract from how shiny his caramel eyes were.
"I wanted nothing to do with him!" Spencer snapped.
"He abandoned us. He sent money for the first couple of months, but then it was just on birthdays and Christmas…and then nothing at all. I wasn't going to tell him we were struggling. He never cared about us before, why would he suddenly start caring just because things were hard? We were nothing to him…" Spencer said, trailing off.
Derek grimaced at having brought up such a bad memory and he knew he had touched on a subject that was obviously a sore spot with the kid.
"So… so what did you do?" Derek asked, almost afraid to voice the question. But he knew Spencer wanted to tell him. That was what this was all about. Spencer wanted to bare his soul. He wanted to lay bare his darkest secrets and know that Derek wouldn't push him away just because he saw Spencer for what he truly was.
Spencer looked up at him, those impossibly-large eyes glistening slightly with unshed tears as he opened and closed his mouth, as if unsure of where to start.
"It's ok, Spencer. You can tell me as much as you want… you don't owe me anything, you know? I'm just here to listen. Just… whatever you're comfortable with," Derek said as he laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, hoping to comfort him.
Spencer sighed deeply, feeling anxiety settling into his stomach. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully, and glanced down at his hands, folded in his lap. He couldn't look Derek in the eye. This seemed a lot harder than he thought it would. He suddenly felt trapped—like he couldn't get enough air.
Could he tell him? Did he even want to…? Did he want to bring back those memories, or worse, give voice to them? Wouldn't that make it real?
He thought back to the worst day of his life…
(xxx)
Four Years Ago
"Hey, Pretty Boy!" someone shouted on the busy street.
Ignoring the loud sounds around him as people rushed and bustled past him, Spencer continued to shuffle his way home, head down, backpack slung across his shoulder.
He was hurrying home, even though it was a Friday night. He had just left his job at the supermarket and he was exhausted. It was his second shift of the night, after he had finished up working at the library, and he had been on his feet for more than 12 hours that day. Although most fifteen-year-olds would probably be thinking about hanging out with their friends on a Friday night, all Spencer could think about was getting home to his mother.
Although Spencer did have a few friends at the supermarket (for once, he was actually around other kids his age), and they had begged and prodded him to go see a movie with them that night, his regret had been sincere when he declined. There had definitely been a second of longing where he had really wanted to accept—to go out and have fun for once, and to act like a normal kid. But then he remembered himself and realized that if he didn't go home, who would be there to make sure his mother remembered to eat her dinner? Shaking his head to clear it of these thoughts, he pulled his jacket a bit tighter around his shoulders and increased his pace.
"Pretty boy!" the voice was yelling again, closer now, accompanied by soft pants, like the person was out of breath. When a hand clamped down on his shoulder, Spencer almost jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to stare up into the grinning face of a tall stranger.
"Hey, kid! Hey! Relax! Don't look at me like I'm trying to kidnap you here," the man said with a good-natured smile and Spencer felt like he could relax a bit.
"D-did you need something?" the boy asked, eyes dropping down to his feet.
"Well… yea, didn't you hear me calling you? I said 'Pretty Boy' like six times! I had to run to catch up with you," the man said, smiling again and Spencer couldn't help but think he had a really attractive smile. He then flushed when his brain finally comprehended what the man had been saying.
"P-pretty boy? Me?" Spencer asked, eyes wide behind the large frames of his glasses.
"Yeah, you, cutie," the man said as he winked at Spencer, causing Spencer's face to flame up and his heart to leap up into his throat. He had no idea what this man was talking about.
"Don't tell me no one's ever called you that before! You're so cute, you could be a model." The man continued, noticing that the boy's face had gone red and, it seemed, he was unable to form words.
"No way," Spencer finally said, thinking the guy was just making fun of him now.
"No, really. That's why I stopped you. I'm actually a talent scout. Here's my card," he said as he handed Spencer a slick, glossy white card.
Spencer took the card and glanced down at it. It read: Danny Wallace, Talent Scout, Xquisite, Inc. Spencer furrowed his brow. Well, I guess it seems legit, he thought to himself. But he still couldn't understand the connection. Why did this man stop him?
"I think you're just the kind of 'talent' we're looking for. That's why I stopped you," Danny said, as if he were reading Spencer's mind. Spencer blanched.
"I… I don't understand…" Spencer began but Danny cut him off.
"And, if you just come back to our offices, I can talk to you about some of the projects we have in mind for you." Danny continued. Before Spencer could turn the man down (he was sure the man would rethink his appraisal of him once he got him in front of real lights and realized he had made a glaring error in thinking the boy was 'cute'), Danny said something that got his attention immediately.
"And we pay really well. You could make upwards of $2000 in just one shoot."
Spencer's eyes widened. Two-THOUSAND dollars? He thought to himself. That was probably more than he made in a month doing his three part-time jobs.
Spencer had a strange feeling in his stomach, but he couldn't pass up an opportunity to at least hear about what this venture might mean. If he did something like this, all his troubles could be taken care of just like that.
"Um… um, I guess I could go to your office to t-talk about it?" he asked sheepishly, and he was rewarded with a wolfish grin.
"Great to hear, cutie," Danny said as he wrapped a firm arm around Spencer's shoulder. "Our offices are only a couple blocks away."
(())()()()()())
When Spencer was led into the building, he couldn't help but think that the place wasn't what he had been expecting. The building had been a bit shabby from the outside, but the placard on the front had said "Xquisite Inc.," so he pushed down his reservations. Inside, the hallways were dimly-lit by track-lighting, and as Danny led him past a number of closed doors that Spencer assumed led to offices, he glanced curiously at the framed posters on the wall. Many of the posters featured voluptuous-looking women in provocative outfits. Not having seen many things like that up close, Spencer shyly averted his eyes. But it was Vegas, and he knew that many showgirls dressed like that as part of their acts, so he disregarded them and kept his eyes trained in front of him.
He felt Danny squeeze his shoulder as they came to a stop in front of one of the doors at the end of the hallway. Danny then knocked lightly on the door and a deep voice from within called "Come!"
Pushing open the door, Danny ushered Spencer into a large office. It was lavishly, albeit a bit garishly, adorned. Sitting directly across from the door was a large, overweight man giving them a stern look. He had dark, greasy black hair and sported a number of rings on his thick fingers. He looked to be in his mid-to-late 40's and was wearing a flashy suit. Spencer swallowed nervously.
"Hey, Demetri, I just found this cute kid walking around downtown. I told him we could really use someone like him in some of our new projects." Danny said as he patted Spencer on the shoulder.
Demetri stared at Spencer, eyes slowly roving up and down the young boy's form. It made Spencer's skin crawl, and he felt himself subconsciously drawing closer to Danny. The man then smiled widely.
"Yes, yes. He's very cute indeed. I like what I'm seeing," Demetri said, grinning at the boy in front of him. "I think he'd be great on camera."
"Great to hear," Danny said with a laugh, "Well I'll leave you to it then."
Spencer turned around in shock as he heard Danny open the door.
"W-wait! Where're you going?" Spencer asked.
"Well, you have to interview to get a job, right? I can't be here for that. I'm sure you'll do great, kid." Danny said with a wink.
Then he was gone. And Spencer was left all alone with 'Demetri.'
Swallowing nervously, Spencer looked everywhere but at the imposing man sitting in front of him.
"Take a seat," the man said firmly, and Spencer jumped. Not knowing what else to do, the boy inched slowly to one of the two plush armchairs situated in front of the mammoth desk and slid into the seat.
"You're really, cute," Demetri purred again.
Although he hadn't felt flattered by the man's words, Spencer just forced a slight smile and continued to stare at his hands.
"What's your name, kid?" Demetri asked after a pause.
"S-Spencer," he breathed out.
"And… how old are you, Spencer?" Demetri asked, eyes getting a little bit darker.
"Um… I'm 15," Spencer responded.
"Hmm… 15? Wow. You look even younger than that. I guess it's the glasses… and the hair. You don't look like regular teens, you know?" Demetri said.
"Uh… sorry?" Spencer said sheepishly.
"No, no. Don't apologize. I like you like that. You look very innocent," Demetri said.
Spencer noticed a hard edge to the man's voice and looked up. He felt his stomach twist into a knot at the way Demetri was looking at him. Something just felt… off.
"Are you innocent, Spencer?" Demetri asked as he trained his dark eyes on the boy's light brown ones.
Spencer furrowed his brow in confusion.
"I… um… I don't really know what you mean…" Spencer stuttered out.
Demetri rose to his feet and Spencer immediately felt intimidated by the man's height. His wide eyes watched the older man stalk toward him, making him feel like a caged animal.
"I think you'd be very good in my pictures, Spencer… even in movies," Demetri said, looming over the boy.
Spencer bit his lip as he looked up at the man. He was starting to feel like he had really made a big mistake. He was scared… he didn't want to be there anymore.
"Do you know what kind of pictures we shoot here, Spencer?" Demetri continued.
Spencer shook his head.
"The kind where you take your clothes off…. Where you let everyone see how sexy you can be. I think you'd be really good doing something like that, Spencer," the man said as he stood right over the boy.
Spencer's eyes widened in horror.
Take my clothes off!? He thought, feeling his stomach twist into knots.
"I… I don't… I think I need to-" he whimpered out as he tried to get to his feet, but Demetri placed a large hand on his shoulder and forced him back into his seat.
"Yes… you'll do very well. I like that look in your eyes, Spencer. I like those lips, too. You've got very nice lips. But before I can give you any work, you need to show me what you can do. It's my payment for getting you into the 'business.'" Demetri said, as he squeezed Spencer's shoulder causing the boy to gasp in pain.
"I… I don't want to do that. I'm sorry… Please, I want to go home!" Spencer said as he struggled against the strong man holding him in place.
"Go home? Spencer, don't be a tease," the man growled with a mean grin as he used his free hand to begin unbuckling his belt.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Spencer squeaked out, feeling panic setting in.
"Get on your knees, boy," Demetri demanded.
"No!" Spencer shouted as he pushed against Demetri with all his might and managed to get to his feet. But before Spencer could get around the man, he felt a fist collide with his face. Stunned, he staggered and tumbled to the floor. He could taste blood in his mouth. Before he could regain his bearings, Demetri's hand fisted into his hair and yanked his head back, hard.
"Open your mouth, boy," Demetri demanded, breathing hard.
"P-please let me go," Spencer sobbed.
But his pleas fell on deaf ears, as Demetri dragged him to his knees and positioned the boy's head in front of his lap. Trembling in fear, Spencer refused to open his eyes, and tried to pull away from the strong grip. But Demetri grabbed Spencer's jaw, pressing into the quickly forming bruise, and causing Spencer to cry out in pain.
Spencer then felt the man's thick, salty appendage being shoved past his lips and into his throat. He tried to pull away, gagging at the taste and feel, but Demetri's painful grip on his hair prevented his movement. He couldn't breathe as the man began to thrust into his mouth, indifferent to his struggles and muffled protests. He scratched and pushed against the man's legs to free himself, but it was of no use.
Hot tears ran down his face as his mouth and throat were abused by the sweaty panting man towering over him. His stomach churned in protest as he could taste more and more salty fluid flowing into his mouth. Then Demetri grabbed his head with both hands, gripping him tightly as he picked up his pace, thrusting violently. Spencer's whimpers of protest fell on deaf ears, and he feared he would choke to death in this dingy office. Suddenly, however, Demetri let out a shout and Spencer's mouth was flooded with copious amounts of thick liquid.
Spent, Demetri pulled back, releasing Spencer, who immediately proceeded to vomit on the floor. Coughing and sputtering, the boy wiped at his mouth with shaking hands. Staring, unseeing, at the floor with wide eyes, he trembled. He couldn't believe what had just happened.
"Shit, the sound of you retching really killed the mood, kid," Demetri's voice came from above him, as he began to re-buckle his belt. "I really would have wanted to test that ass of yours out, but I guess there's always next time."
Spencer couldn't help it as he let out a shaky sob. He didn't want to start crying again. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. But he couldn't get his legs to work. It was like he was frozen in place.
"But… I liked that mouth of yours. Sure, you could use some practice. But I kind of like that clumsiness of yours. Very sexy." Demetri said, almost in a sing-song voice, as he made his way behind his desk.
Spencer listened as he heard the man rustling around in his drawer and then flinched as something was tossed down by his hands.
"That's your payment, kid. $500 for a job well done. I think you'll definitely go far here. And if you come back and let me take a crack at that ass, I'll really make it worth your while." Demetri said, the leer apparent in his voice.
Spencer stared in shock at the wad of money sitting in front of him. He was appalled that that man (beast was probably a more fitting word) thought he could pay for what he had just subjected him to. It had been disgusting and demeaning. But… $500… he couldn't just leave the money there, knowing how far it would go to supplement his already scarce finances. And, in any case, he thought to himself, after what had been done to him… didn't he deserve it?
With trembling hands, he reached out and closed his hand around the wad of cash, trying to tamp down his shame.
"Hmm… seeing you like that on your hands and knees… it's making me hot again," Demetri purred from his place behind the desk.
A jolt of fear shot through Spencer, and he scrambled to his feet. Face flushed, he quickly rushed to the door, avoiding looking Demetri in the eye. As his hand fell on the doorknob the man's voice echoed from behind him.
"Wait, Spencer," Demetri said.
Spencer didn't really know why he stopped. He didn't think Demetri could make it across the desk and to the door before he could leave, but he was still terrified nonetheless. His face throbbed from the punch he had received, not to mention the soreness in his mouth and throat from the man's rough assault. He was afraid Demetri would hurt him again if he didn't listen.
"Aren't you going to say thank you?" Demetri asked, voice almost a purr.
Flinching at the man's words, but afraid to displease him, Spencer quickly swallowed down his disgust.
"Th-thank you," he murmured softly, fighting back the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes.
Without waiting another second, he swung the door open and rushed out into the hallway. Hearing the door slam behind him, he looked up and was surprised to see Danny leaning against the wall in the hallway. Spencer's honey-colored eyes widened in shock.
He was here the whole time and he… he did nothing? Spencer thought to himself.
Danny gave Spencer a forced smile.
"So, I'm guessing everything went alright? Demetri liked you, didn't he? Now you can start doing some photos and making the big cash. Sounds good, doesn't it?" he asked as he reached out to touch Spencer's shoulder.
Spencer recoiled before the man could touch him.
Without waiting to hear anything more that Danny had to say, Spencer pushed past the man and ran out of the building.
(())()()()()())
It was late when Spencer finally made it into his house. All the lights were out. Spencer knew his mother had already gone to sleep.
She probably didn't even know I was missing, he thought to himself, feeling his chest squeeze painfully.
But he was also slightly thankful for this. He had no idea what he looked like and would have been ashamed for his mother to have seen him this way. He also knew that, if she was having one of her good days, she would be able to tell something was wrong immediately. And there was no way he wanted to tell her what had happened. He didn't want anyone to know. Ever.
Making his way silently up the stairs, Spencer quickly ran into the bathroom and started the shower. As he waited for the water to heat up (as hot as it could get) he made a pointed effort to avoid looking in the mirror. As he stripped off his clothes and dropped them to the floor, he saw the thick wad of cash fall out of his pants pocket. Hesitating for a moment before picking it up, Spencer tried to ignore the thoughts flooding his head.
On one hand, he wanted absolutely no reminders about what had happened to him. If he could have his way he would never think of this day ever again. It would just disappear, like a bad dream. On the other hand… this was a lot of money. And if he could… if he could just be more careful next time, doing things like 'that' might be a useful way to make money when he was in a pinch. Not using his mouth, though. He would never want to do that again. But they had talked about pictures. Spencer was sure he could take pictures… It was just getting too hard to juggle all those jobs, especially since it meant he would be spending most of the day away from his mother. Something had to give…
Taking a seat on the closed toilet as steam started to fill the room, Spencer stared down at the money he gripped in his hand.
If I do this again… it's going to be on my terms, he thought to himself. No one's going to get me alone like that again... no one's going to hurt me. I won't let them…
Tossing the wad on to the counter top, Spencer got to his feet and yanked back the shower curtain.
Stepping in, and bracing himself against the scalding water, Spencer began to wash, hoping he could wash all the memories away.
(xxx)
Staring off silently, Spencer was brought back to the present by the feeling of Derek's hands on his shoulders, shaking him.
"Kid, you ok?" Derek asked.
When Spencer's eyes focused, he took in the sight of Derek's concerned dark-brown eyes staring into his own.
"Um… what?" Spencer asked, as he blinked a few times.
"You started telling me about the jobs you were working and your dad and then… well, kid, you just kind of zoned out…" Derek said, frowning.
Derek knew the signs clearly. Spencer had been having a flashback. And by the way the boy's shoulders had tensed and his eyes had glazed over, he was sure that whatever the kid had been seeing wasn't anything pleasant.
Spencer sighed heavily, mind wandering back to those painful memories. He didn't think Derek needed to know everything. He wanted Derek to understand him, not pity him. And the person he had been four years ago was a weak, naïve little boy. Now, Spencer was an adult. He knew better and he had grown up a lot over the past four years.
Looking up at the concerned agent, Spencer steeled himself, determined not to let his emotions show.
"When I was younger… I was tricked by this talent scout. I stupidly followed him to this studio… and I got forced to blow the manager there. He gave me money afterwards and told me I could work for him… take pictures and stuff. I never went back to him, because I couldn't trust him…. He was a disgusting asshole. But being able to make so much money so quickly was something I had never heard of. And… I needed money really badly then. So… I found other people who did that kind of thing and I did some pictures and some solo videos when money got really tight." Spencer said flatly.
Derek stared at the boy with wide eyes. Spencer had told that story with such a lack of emotion. He couldn't believe that the boy was so unaffected. It was an act. Derek knew… it brought back painful memories, but Derek knew what it was like to be forced…
"Spencer, did any of these other people do anything to you?" Derek asked, voice hard.
"Um… I tried really hard to never be alone with the guys who were doing the shoots. But... sometimes it was unavoidable and when things got too… scary… well, I tried to get out of it by talking. And if they didn't want to talk… um… then I'd offer to… you know, use my mouth." Spencer said, face flushed in embarrassment.
"But that was only a few times, and really…it's no big deal. At least no one ever fucked me," Spencer said dismissively, but there was an obviously hard edge to his voice.
"How…young are we talking about here?" Derek asked, the furrow in his brow clearly giving away his displeasure with the things Spencer had just disclosed.
Spencer rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet and sighed, but it was obvious he was avoiding meeting Derek's eyes. He knew exactly what was concerning Derek. Business as usual.
"Please. There's no point in lingering on that, Mr. Law Enforcement." Spencer said derisively, as he began to pace the living room.
Derek watched the boy carefully, sure that he was unaware he was giving away such telling signs of anxiety in his body language.
"And it's not like I'm going to give you any names, anyway. I was young… too young for that kind of shit, but who cares? It's part of the territory…. Kind of like initiation." Spencer continued with a shrug.
And now he's pretending like it doesn't matter, Derek observed to himself.
"Anyway… it's like I said, no one raped me. So whatever," Spencer said as he threw up his hands in frustration, and, turning away from Derek, stormed into the kitchen. He couldn't look at him anymore. The agent had been silent for so long during his rambling tirade that Spencer wasn't sure what he was thinking. He regretted saying anything and now he just wished they could change the subject.
"It's not whatever, Spencer!" Derek growled as he got to his feet and stormed after the boy into the kitchen. "How old were you when these bastards did these things to you?"
Spencer flinched at Derek's tone, and even though he tried to put on a smile his lip trembled a bit. "Jeeze, I was… like 15, I think. I dunno, it was a long time ago." Spencer said as he backed up into a corner of the kitchen. With Derek's large body and scowling face, the kitchen suddenly seemed a lot smaller.
"That was only four years ago, Spencer. Jesus Christ! You're a victim! You can still report those sons of bitches." Derek informed him, anger still tinging his voice. He could see that Spencer felt intimidated, and looked like an animal backed into a corner, so he tried to reel in his anger, but it bothered him so much. Why does this kid talk like he thinks he isn't worth anything? Derek wondered. The thought, itself, was painful.
Still anxious in his cornered position, but attempting to assert himself as he leaned against the countertop, Spencer locked eyes with Derek.
"Like I told you, I'm not giving you any names. And you can't make me! That kind of thing is par for the course and I'm over it. I'm not a fucking victim. I wasn't raped; I just had to give some unpleasant blowjobs. But I'm not that stupid anymore. And no one can force me to do things like that ever again." Spencer said, his voice almost rising to a shout.
Derek was stunned for a second, wondering why Spencer was so defensive. How could he not think of himself as having been victimized? How could he think he had just been 'stupid,' Derek wondered to himself. And Derek knew that this mentality was keeping Spencer from blaming the real people responsible. None of what had happened to him had been his fault.
All Derek could think of was why, if Spencer could still do something about those who had hurt him, wouldn't he take advantage of that chance? But, then Derek thought about himself… and his personal demons. And all of this suddenly seemed too familiar. He had never shared with anyone what had happened to him when he was 14. Derek always told himself that saying something now wasn't worth the trouble. There was no way that man could be prosecuted for anything… so what was the point? And then suddenly, Derek was wondering to himself if he was using a double standard with Spencer. Was he only trying to force Spencer to confront his demons because Spencer was younger and Derek felt he knew more than the kid? Was it because he had lived more? Or was he somehow living vicariously through the boy, trying to vanquish his own demons because he knew he no longer could?
He was almost 29 now, and even with so many years having passed he still sometimes woke up at night covered in a cold sweat, heart in his throat, haunted by memories of a once-trusted man-turned-monster. He still hadn't dealt with it. And for Spencer, his demons were fresher. He had experienced this all merely four years ago. There was no way the boy had 'dealt' with it yet. And Derek knew that the little Spencer had shared with him was probably only the tip of a much larger iceberg. Spencer was 15 when he had first been assaulted and had made the decision to embark into the seedy world of the skin trade. There was nothing and no one to protect him. What had transpired between that point and now? What had he had to endure before he ended up at Mon Petit Chien, where he could dance behind the protective glass and out of the reach of the monsters who would torment him?
Spencer's sigh drew Derek out of his thoughts and he watched as the cornered boy ran a hand wearily over his face and through his hair. Spencer wouldn't look at him.
"If I had known you were going to be this way I never would've told you..." Spencer murmured softly, eyes trained on the floor.
Realizing he was pushing Spencer away, Derek let out a heavy sigh of his own. This was not the time for Derek to tackle his own demons; not the time to make Spencer face his either. Right now, Spencer was hurting and Derek needed to do what he could for the boy in this moment.
Moving in closer to the tense boy, so that there were scant inches between their bodies, Derek placed one hand on the back of Spencer's head, and the other on the boy's back and pulled him in close. At first Spencer tensed and tried to struggle but when it dawned on him that Derek had simply enveloped him in a hug, he relaxed, letting his arms drop limply to his sides.
Breathing softly into Derek's neck, Spencer let out a soft chuckle.
"For the muscle-bound alpha male type, you really are such a sap," Spencer teased, voice muffled by Derek's shoulder.
Derek laughed slightly as he softly ran his fingers through the younger man's hair.
"I don't think it's being a sap if you give someone a hug when you know they really need one."
Spencer let out an irritated-sounding huff, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he tentatively raised his arms and sunk his fingers into the fabric of Derek's shirt. Saying nothing, he just let himself be held.
"Kid…" Derek said after a few moments of silence. The feel of Spencer's slight body in his arms had begun to feel too comforting… too "right." He knew he had to regain control of the situation.
"I'm proud of you for telling me what you did. I know it wasn't easy. I also know there's a lot more you're probably keeping to yourself," Derek said, and felt the boy flinch almost instantly.
"But, you don't' have to tell me that—now, or ever." Derek said as he immediately began stroking Spencer's back, easing the tension with every sweep of his fingers.
"I just want you to know that if you ever want to… I'm here, ok? You can tell me anything." Derek offered.
Saying nothing, Spencer just nodded, and Derek resumed carding his fingers through the boy's silky hair.
"And I'm going to do my best to make sure no one hurts you again. Starting with this son of a bitch Unsub," Derek said as he gripped the boy a bit tighter.
Spencer pulled back a bit and looked up at the sincere agent. His caramel-colored eyes searched the older man's darker ones and he knew, without him saying anything, that Derek had made a promise to himself. That he really intended to do anything he could for Spencer. What he saw there was genuine devotion. And it was shocking.
Looking away, Spencer felt his heart hammering and his ears burning. He tried to convince himself not to read into that. Derek was devoted to solving the case—he was devoted to making sure Spencer didn't get killed, but it was unlikely that he had any interest in him outside of the purviews of his job and his commitment to right the wrongs in the world.
Stepping out of the agent's comforting arms, Spencer smiled up at him to assuage any of his concern.
"That's a tall order you have to fill, then," he said, forcing himself to laugh. "I'm sure you can't do it running on a couple of hours of sleep like you've been doing. Let me help you set up the couch."
Smiling at the boy, and understanding that it would take time for the boy to fully trust and rely on him, Derek nodded. They would have time.

A/N: Ah, so there we have it. Poor Spencer, huh? Well, things can always get better. Fingers crossed?
Let me know your thoughts; love to hear from you! xoxo
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