A/N: This is the first oneshot 'series' I've ever written… I hope you guys enjoy reading it!

It's going to be exactly what the title says it is: a series of connected oneshots chronicling the life of our favorite doctor, Spencer Reid ;)

I'm starting with his childhood and moving on through his early life, to joining the FBI and everything else in his life. This is how I think it all happened. In later oneshots, there will be mentions of Reid's drug use, his kidnap in Georgia, his fear of developing schizophrenia and his evolving relationship with the team.

Also, this isn't like my other stories where I update every day or every other day. Maybe once every week or once every couple of weeks. We'll see how it goes.

Well, now I'll stop babbling and let you get on with it.

Please review! Your comments and criticisms mean the world to me guys!

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"Children begin by loving their parents. As they grow older, they judge them. Rarely, if ever, do they forgive them."
~Oscar Wilde

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Gone But Not Forgiven

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Spencer Reid woke up that morning like any other morning. The faint, grey light of the new dawn filtering into his bedroom window through the thin blue curtains that hung there. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling of his room, the glowing stars that had been stuck there since he was five slightly blurry and out of focus without his glasses on. He yawned and rolled over, long fingers, especially for a ten year old child, reaching out blindly for his round glasses.

As he pushed them over his ears and onto his face, the world around him solidified and he pushed the blankets back, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and letting them dangle there for a moment before standing and padding his way downstairs to the kitchen. Just like every other morning. It was Saturday, which meant, thankfully, no school. Spencer loved to learn, honestly, but he found school tediously boring and not unlike torture. He was far ahead of his classmates already, but there wasn't much a public school system could do for a child like him. But he could deal with the mind numbing school work. It was the bullies he didn't like.

No, the weekends were his sanctuary. His forty-eight brief and blissful hours of peace. He could sit in his room and read, or, better yet, spend countless hours listening to his mother read from one of the many books she had recently taught on in her Fifteenth Century Literature class. He never tired of his mother's voice. It was one of the few things that kept the nightmares at bay. It soothed him.

Diana wasn't awake when the child made his way downstairs, but that wasn't unusual either. She usually slept in; her medication kept her asleep much of the time. He just hoped that today would be a lucid day. He hated when his weekends were spoiled by his mother's 'condition', as his father like to put it. Spencer was smart enough to know his father was somewhat embarrassed by his mother's 'condition', though he couldn't fathom why.

William had known Diana was Schizophrenic before he married her. He had loved her. Spencer knew he had, he could see that love in old photographs his parents still kept out on the mantle. But most of Spencer's earliest memories were of his parents fighting. Sometimes, he wondered what had happened to their love, if it had run its course and was over for good. Other times he wondered if it was his fault. Before he had been born, they were clearly happy. But ever since, it seem that things were falling apart.

The thought that he was the cause, the catalyst that had sent his parents' marriage into turmoil, brought immense guilt to the child's shoulders. Perhaps if he were more normal, more like the other kids in the neighborhood who like the play tee-ball and chase each other around on their bicycles… perhaps then his father and mother wouldn't fight anymore. He really didn't know. One thing he did know was that his father wanted him to be as normal as possible. He always had.

And Spencer tried; God knows that he had tried. But he couldn't seem to find it in him to be 'normal'. He wasn't even quite sure what 'normal' was. Sighing to himself, very adult thoughts spinning around in his young mind, Spencer entered the bright kitchen and opened the pantry to fix himself a bowl of cereal. His large brown eyes fell onto an envelope, however, and he froze.

It was sitting in the middle of the counter, white and crisp and clean. Nothing remarkable about it at all, but Spencer somehow sensed that that one lone envelope would be life altering.

Eyes round behind his spectacles, Spencer approached the envelope as if it were a bomb, his thin fingers reaching out to pluck it from the counter. It wasn't sealed, and his name was scrawled across the top of it in familiar handwriting. His father's handwriting. The young boy swallowed heavily as his shook the folded sheet out paper out and took it into his shaking hands, reading the words that would be forever etched into his mind:

"Spencer,

I'm sorry I didn't wait until morning, but I couldn't waste another moment. I couldn't face you or your mother. I never wanted to do this, but I can't be the father I should any longer. I'm so terribly sorry, son, but I'm sure you'll be alright. You're smart; you can take care of your mother.

I don't know how to explain myself, I'm not really sure that it's possible come to think of it. But I guess I should try at least… I love you and your mother very much. I always will, Spencer, don't forget that. But I can't do it. I can't wake up every morning and face this reality, it's too much. I'm sorry. I've done all that I know how to do to make things right, to keep us together, but it's obviously not working. Everything seems to be falling apart in my hands and I can't take this burden any longer.

I want you to remember the good times, Spencer. Your mother and I, we didn't always fight like this. But that seems like a lifetime away and I wake up every morning feeling like I'm living someone else's life and it's just not working anymore. I know you don't understand now, but maybe you will one day. Maybe you'll even forgive me. I hope you do, it's not worth it to continue hating me, it'll eat away at you and I don't want to do that.

I hope you can forgive me, Spencer. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to hurt your mother but this is how it has to be. You'll understand, I'm sure. This is for the best.

I love you Spencer.

Goodbye."

Spencer's hands shook as a sob threatened to work its way out of his throat. His fingers clenched the paper tighter with each word, until the edges were creased and torn. He stared down at the letter for much longer, lost in his own thoughts. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel… Hurt. Angry. Bitter. Resentful. Guilty. Numb.

That last one seemed to fit the bill. His blood sat languid and frozen in his veins, his body stiff as a stone. The only indication that he hadn't truly been petrified on the spot was the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out.

It took several minutes for the contents of the letter to truly hit him. His father was gone. Gone and not coming back. Not ever. That thought, that realization, dropped into his stomach like a lead ball. His own father had abandoned him with a mentally ill mother and he expected him to understand? To forgive him?

And just like that, the languid, frozen blood in his veins seared with fury and he crumpled the letter between his fingers viciously, throwing it into the garbage. His throat was tight from holding back sobs as he stood in the kitchen, furious anger bubbling inside of him. He couldn't believe that his father would do that to him. To his mother. Just walk out and not look back, not even stop to say goodbye. Couldn't he have at least given him that much? Was a goodbye really too much to ask for after ten years of parenthood?

Apparently so.

Spencer's breathing was shaky and he thought desperately of some way to distract himself. Something. Anything. He walked on stiff legs toward the pantry again and pulled out the box of cereal, pouring himself a bowl, but staring at it dejectedly rather than actually eating anything.

He wasn't quite sure how long he sat there, but the cereal had grown soggy and the milk warm and unsavory. He was startled out of his pensive state by faint footfalls on the stairs and he looked up a moment later to see a bleary-eyed Diana Reid smiling faintly at him from the kitchen door.

"He's gone, isn't he?" she asked quietly.

Spencer nodded stiffly, not bothering to ask how his mother knew. She always knew.

Diana sighed heavily, looking down at the floor, her eyes sad and depressed. She expected this. In fact, she was surprised William hadn't left sooner than he had. But the least he could've done was take Spencer. She loved her son, with every nerve in her body, but she knew she couldn't take care of him the way she should. Mental illness didn't just go away and even on her best days, she couldn't be a proper mother. She was smart enough to realize that. But William, blind fool that he was, claimed he couldn't understand Spencer, that he had no idea how to raise him. He even once said that Spencer was practically raising himself.

And while that was all well and true, Spencer was ten years old and needed a father. She shook her head sadly and opened her arms to her young son. "Come on, Baby." She said gently. "Let me read to you…"

Spencer smiled faintly at her and slipped down from the stool, hugging his mother tightly as they entered her study down the hall and settled onto a large leather couch. She pulled a thick tome from the table and cracked the spine, gently petting Spencer's hair before beginning to read.

Spencer sat, on the verge of tears, in his mother's arms for hours. He felt safe here, warm and protected. He knew his mother couldn't always provide the most stable of homes, but he also knew that she loved him, and that was enough for the moment. Even if his father didn't care, someone did. And she was all that mattered. William could leave if he wanted to, live his life in peace without worrying about the family he'd left behind. Spencer would make this work no matter what it took. He would be damned if he let his father's selfishness get in the way of his happiness.

They fell asleep like that, the book lying open across Diana's lap, Spencer's head resting gently on her shoulder. Gentle, even breaths escaped their bodies in rhythmic hums and Spencer dreamed of a happier life, a real future and a family. One day, he would have that family, he didn't know how or when, but he made himself a promise at that moment that he would have the family he wanted somehow, someway. William Reid could stay gone for as long as he wanted, Spencer would never forget what he had done. And he would never forgive him either.

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E/N: *tears* Ah, poor little Spencer. Hope you guys enjoyed it! That was my take on how William Reid left the family and the letter he left them. I did my best to be unbiased here, but you all know I detest the man.

Let me know what you think!

Next installment coming soon!

Don't forget to review!