I own nothing. Nada. Zero. If I did, JJ would still be on the show, Prentiss wouldn't be in danger as much, Hotch Rossi and Morgan would stay the same, and Reid wouldn't suffer so much. Which is probably why I don't own the show. Anyway, enjoy. R&R!

"Mom?" Came the voice of a young Spencer Reid, "Mom, wake up." He walked from his perch at the entryway to his mother's room and entered the darkness therin. "Mom, wake up, it's time to go to school." No response. Crossing over to the window, he reached up and grabbed hold of the curtain, pulling it back. "Mom, it's almost-" He stopped midsentence, staring in shock and horror at his mother's bed.

Diane Reid lay spread-eagle across the matress, blood soaking into the sheets. The source of the bloodflow was a large wound in her temple. Her right hand was clenched around a gun, while her left was clenched around a piece of paper.

"Mom!" Spencer screamed, running over to the bed. As he drew closer, crimson spray erupted around his feet everytime he took a step. "Mom," he whimpered, looking down at her broken body. He stood there momentarily, knowing she was gone but not wanting to admit it. Reaching down to her left hand, he slid the note out past her cold, lifeless fingers. Unfolding it, it red:

Dearest Spencer,

I know by the time you find this, I will be dead. It had to be this way. The voices, they were too much. They wanted me to hurt you. I couldn't let that happen, sweetheart. I couldn't let them hurt you. So I did the only thing I knew to do - taking my life, and taking them with me. Please, forgive me, Spencer. I did this for you. Go, live with your father. It'll all be alright, baby. I promise.

I love you,

Mom.

The boy crumpled to the floor, weeping bitterly. He stayed there by the bed where his mother's body lay, his legs coated in her crimson lifeliquid from kneeling by the bed.

When Spencer Reid didn't show up for school that day, the principle, knowing about Diane Reid's unstable mental condition, drove to the Reid household to check on the boy, to make sure things were alright. When he walked in the door, immedietly he heard the sobbing of Spencer - who else would it be weeping as if he had lost his best friend? Walking in to the back room, he found the boy, kneeling by the cold body of his mother.

Reaching down to the boy, he picked Spencer up, ignoring his screams and protests, and the faint struggle he put up.

"Spencer, she's 's gone."

Gone.

"Reid? Reid!" Spencer jerked awake, looking around with wild eyes. He was greeted by laughter from the rest of the team. "Finally," SSA Hotchner said, rolling his eyes as he sat back down, "Reid, you're starting to make a habit of falling asleep on the jet."

Reid muttered something that sounded strangely like a curse word before sitting up, running a hand through his mussed hair.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Prentiss teased, a smirk playing around the edges of her mouth. This encouraged another round of laughter from the team. From everyone except Reid. Many would've thought this was because he was the object of their amusement. But this wasn't so. Reid was used to being teased. No, he wasn't laughing because he kept having the same reoccuring dream night and night again. This was why he hadn't slept in so long - out of fear. He knew why he was having this nightmare over and over - it was drawing near. The day that marked the anniversary of when his mother had committed suicide. It had taken him a very long time to get over his mother's death as a child, but every year, it came back. He was the reason she took her life. He was the reason he was motherless.

Reid was snapped from his reverie as Hotch said, "We're almost back at the BAU, you know, Reid. I'm sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep now if you'd like."

"No thanks," Spencer muttered, looking down. "I don't think that's such a great idea."

Hotch was definately confused by his statement, but he didn't press the issue. Smart man.

Spencer lapsed into silence as the plane advanced toward Quantico, Virginia. He tried listening to the conversations of the rest of the team, but in the end, he gave up, his mind returning to his memories of his mother's suicide. He knew what he would have to do to rid himself of these memories. He would have to do something he hadn't done since he was 13. He would have to do something that would probably put him through a great deal of pain. He knew exactly how he was going to do so.

As his mind whirled, he looked out of the jet's window, staring out at the gathering darkness.

Timeskip - The next day

Reid approached Hotchner's office apprehensively. Would Hotch say yes? Would he say no? What would happen?

He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind. Raising his hand, he knocked twice before hearing a faint "Come in" from the other side of the large oak door.

Complying, Reid opened the door, not bothering to close it behind him. He was just going to go back out anyway if Hotch said yes. "Hotch, I need a few days off, if that's alright."

Hotch looked up, a hint of shock in his usually expressionless eyes, yet he quickly hid his curiosity behind a mask of impassivity. "Of course, Reid. In all the time you've worked here, you've never once had a vacation day, nor a sick day. Take all the time off you need - I'll call you if there's a case."

Reid nodded. "Thanks, Hotch," he said, turning on his heel and walking out of his boss's office, closing the door behind him.

Grabbing his go-bag from under his desk, Reid waved a quick goodbye to Morgan and Prentiss before heading out of the glass double-doors of the BAU and out into the parking lot. Hopping into his car, he threw the go-bag into the passengers seat and revved the engine, tearing out of the parking lot in a rush to get to the airport.

After almost an hours' worth of mindless driving, he arrived at the airport. Slinging his go-bag over his shoulder with his messenger bag, he climbed out of the car, locking it behind him. After thiry minutes, he had gotten his tickets, gotten flight arrangements, and was on a plane.

As he was on the plane, his mind whirled. Was he doing the right thing? Would this help him or hurt him? Would he only be hurting himself more by doing this? He pushed those thoughts aside. It was his mother. He had practically killed her - he owed her this much.

Timeskip: Three hours later

After what seemed to be an incredibly long flight, Spencer stepped off the plane, his cramping legs threatening to give out on him. A few minutes of walking around cured this.

After going to the local call dealership and renting some car he didn't recognize the make of, he was speeding into town, stopping only to go into the florists to grab a dozen roses. A few minutes later, he was parked near the cemetary.

Walking up to an old weathered headstone, he knelt beside it, placing the dozen roses in front of it. "Hey mom," he whispered,"I'm here. It's me, Spencer. I love you." He stared at the small picture of his mother that was set into the headstone.

All my fault. My fault. She killed herself to protect me. It's all my fault.

A choked sob escaped his throat as he crumpled to the dirty ground. He wept bitterly, like he did so many years before.

All my fault.