Hi guys! So sorry that it's been so long, I've been extremely busy and stressed out lately, which basically kills any and all creativity. But I recently heard the song Demons by Imagine Dragons, and by the time it was over, I knew I had to write a songfic for it. I really hope it turned out alright! (Note: I also have this up on my ao3 account)

UPDATE (1/6/16): It has been brought to my attention that it's against the rules on this site to include song lyrics in my story. I have removed the lyrics in order to keep my story up. I would recommend listening to the song as you read it, if you want the full experience. My sincerest apologies!

WARNINGS: drug use/addiction, depression, suicidal thoughts, M/M (nothing smutty, though), mentions of death, references to Revelations, and LOTS of angst.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Characters are from Criminal Minds and lyrics are from Imagine Dragons.

Without further ado, here it is! I hope you enjoy!

Growing up in Las Vegas, it had always been hot. The desert sun beat down on them mercilessly through all seasons. Reid had adapted, though, which made D.C even more of a shock. The winters were frigid, seeping all the way down to his bones no matter how many layers he wore.

The two days with Tobias had been even worse. It was Georgia, but in that shack, his teeth hadn't ceased their chattering the entire two days. The blood loss, death, and the Dilaudid withdrawal all combined, left him shivering. When his team finally rescued him, the paramedics wrapped him up in blankets, but it hadn't done anything to ward off the lurking cold. Even after two days in a stuffy hospital room, buried under a mountain of blankets, the chill hadn't fully left. It stayed, all the way down in his bones, a constant reminder of what had happened no matter how hard he tried to forget.

The nurses had been especially understanding, only touching him when necessary and never letting his room fall into total darkness. But perhaps their kindness and trust were misplaced. Whenever he asked for some time alone, they'd nod understandingly, unaware he wanted them gone so he could fill his veins with Dilaudid.

His team was supportive. Hotch forced him to take a few weeks off, which Reid wished he hadn't done. Being trapped in his apartment, all alone, only intensified his cravings. He spent the entire three-week-period either high or sleeping. A part of him protested each time the needle slipped into the crook of his elbow. But, as the days crawled by, that part grew smaller and weaker. By the time it completely disappeared, he was grateful, but also disgusted. It felt like a piece of his heart had left with it.

One time when he was high, he mind brought him back to that shack, went back to collapsing on the ground and watching everything dim. When he returned, he wished Tobias had never revived him. Then he wouldn't be trapped in a haze, slowly sinking further and further away from reality with each dose. The next time he shot up, he hoped it would just kill him. But it didn't. Still, one could dream.

JJ checked up on him one day, tears in her eyes and apologies spilling from her mouth. Apologies for splitting up. Apologies for not following him. Apologies for everything Tobias had done because of her mistake. Reid comforted her, assuring her that it wasn't her fault. It was his and his alone. She hugged him and he found himself smiling and returning the tender gesture. A bit of the lingering chill dissipated. Then she pulled away and left, promising to come back tomorrow. Watching her leave, Reid felt a piece of himself wither up. JJ had been oblivious of the marks on his arm, of the drugs hidden just a few feet away. He longed for her to know. If she knew, she could rescue him from this hell. Or maybe he never wanted her to find out. She would only blame herself.

The next day brought JJ's return, and Reid bit his lip and forced a smile for the entire visit. She could never know.

Reid eventually returned to work, hands trembling and skin deathly pale. No one noticed. Nor did they notice the slight bulges in the front pocket of messenger bag in the shape of a syringe and a vial. As the cases stretched on, Reid found himself more and more irritated. The craving in him suggested taking it out on Emily. After all, she was new to the team. Ambitious. Pushy. She was the easiest to snap at, to blame for all his problems. And no one found it too suspicious. None of them had been quick to warm up to the most recent addition. But when she finally stopped fighting back, when she began to simply take his insults and temper with a barely-noticeable wince, it made him feel even worse. It made him feel like a monster.

The more he took, the more he wanted. It became a constant hum at the base of his skull, only quieting when the Dilaudid entered his body. He took and he took and he took, not thinking about the consequences. All he knew was that he needed the numbness, the serenity that Dilaudid brought. His head hurt too much. His thoughts were too persistent. His memories were too vivid. Every inch of him craved it with a ferocity that made his hands shake. So he drowned everything out with the sweet release brought on by narcotics. But the effects hit him hard. Withdrawal felt like a hole in his gut, a hole full of ice and fire and want. Sometimes, when he was hovering between consciousness and sleep, he wondered if all this meant he was greedy.

He deserved the pain. He was a sinner, and he deserved to be punished for all his wrongs. Charles' voice, etched forever in his memory, constantly reminded him of that. He was weak to find an escape, especially one like drugs. It made him sick.

His team knew. They had to. They were profilers, for God's sake. Yet they did nothing to help him. They just cringed at his outbursts and slipped names of therapists into his stack of files and asked if he was getting enough sleep, just loud enough for the local police force to hear them. They were putting on a show, knowing as soon as they stopped, they would have to face the truth. At least, that's what Reid had profiled. But if anyone had looked close enough, they would have noticed how none of Spencer's team members made eye contact with him. He wished they would. If someone would finally just work up the courage to look him in the eyes, they might see his silent plea for help.

Shortly after New Orleans, Reid noticed Morgan watching him more closely. At first, the attention made him uncomfortable, but after a while, he grew angry. Of course Morgan would only start to care now, when he's already too far gone. His vexation towards Prentiss began to spread to Morgan, too- his best friend the man who, for some reason, continued to stay by his side, no matter how many times Reid snapped at or ignored him. He threw profanities and spat insults him. He growled and raged and complained. But Morgan just stood there, strong and unyielding. A rock. No matter how hard Reid pushed, no matter how hard he tried to drive him away, Morgan refused to budge. It made Reid furious, a fire in his gut.

But then he overheard Morgan talking to Garcia, overheard his hushed confession of love for Spencer. Reid decided that the heat in his stomach might not be wrath. And he hated himself for it.

Now that he knows, Reid can see the signs everywhere. Every glance, every lingering touch, every show of concern. Reid shrugs off his worry, which makes Morgan frown. It can't just be an act. Morgan loves him. But Reid can't take it. His best friend now felt more than friendship towards him. The worst part, however- it was mutual.

Reid waited for darkness to fall upon the city before emerging from his apartment building. It was a surprisingly warm night, with clouds plastered across the sky, plunging the streets into near-darkness. That was good, though. Less chance of someone seeing him sneaking into the parking lot seven blocks down. Less chance of discovery as he slipped a wad of cash to a tall, bearded man hidden in the shadows. Less chance of arrest as he accepted the vials and left. A shiver slowly crawled down his back, Charles Hankel's accusations ringing in his ears.

Reid watched with morbid fascination as the needle slipped into his pale arm. The high overtook him almost immediately. His thoughts silenced. The ache in his heart as he replayed Morgan's words to Garcia disappeared. The itch in his mind was soothed. He was blissfully numb.

When his system finally fought off the drug, Reid felt a burning in his stomach. Disgust. It had been awhile since he'd felt so ashamed of himself for shooting up. Maybe it was part of him wondering what Morgan would say if he could see him, curled up in the bathroom, trembling, a syringe in his hand. Reid's gut gave a lurch as he crawled into bed. Even if Morgan did try to stop him, Reid wouldn't. He couldn't. He had started burying himself when he dug his own grave, and now he had finished the job, trapping himself ten feet underground. Now that he felt the urge to return to the surface, he realized just how impossible it would be.

For the first time since JJ visited him all those weeks ago, Reid cried. Not silent tears, but screaming sobs, cursing himself for separating at Tobias's house. Cursing Tobias for getting him into this mess in the first place. The nurses for not stopping him. His team for not caring enough to help him. And Morgan for just standing there with his patient voice and worried brow and soft lips and gentle hands and his care and love and-

He cried through the night, images of Morgan's disappointment at Reid's addiction keeping him awake. He was damned, cursed. Morgan just didn't know that yet. He didn't know how much of a mess Reid was caught in. If only he did know. Then he would be too revolted by Reid to love him, and Reid would be free of these maddening thoughts.

It hurt each time he looked at Morgan, knowing that all he had to do was tell him how he felt and they could have a perfect life together. But that was the crux of it all, wasn't it? They could never have that happy ending, not when Reid was shooting up every day, not when he wished the Dilaudid would kill him each time he did. So he pushed on, covering the warmth in his heart with the cool numbness of narcotics and the burning of withdrawal. He masked his feelings and went about things normally. He even learned to suppress the pang whenever he saw the love in Morgan's eyes. Because no matter how much it hurt to do this, it was nothing compared to the pain Morgan would feel if he found out just how far Reid had fell.

No matter how hard Reid fought it, though, the desire still bubbled up underneath his skin. It was a slow day, paperwork and takeout and small talk, but Reid couldn't focus on any of his files. All he could think of was Morgan and his blinding smile, his strong hands, his kind eyes, his love. His love for Reid. Stuttering, rambling, awkward Reid. Addict Reid. The whispered words between him and Garcia. Morgan had admitted his concern and Garcia had called him out on it. Morgan hadn't even tried to deny it. All he said were five simple words: "I'm in love with him".

When Reid caught himself staring at the agent for the third time, he excused himself to the restroom. It scared him- how obsessed, how infatuated, he was with Morgan. The want, deep down in his stomach, reminded him of his want for Dilaudid, and it terrified him. He wanted them both so much. He decided it must be greed.

Reid didn't know how long he had been standing there, gripping the edge of the counter, staring at himself in the mirror. His skin was considerably paler, highlighting the dark rings under his eyes. Did his team know what had put those dark circles there? What had caused his temper? They were profilers; they should have figured it out ages ago. Or maybe they had, but were too frightened to confront him. As he stared into the reflection of his haunted eyes, he found he couldn't blame them. They weren't the eyes of a victim, and certainly not of a friend. They were full of demons. They were the eyes of a monster.

Of course, that's when Morgan burst in, flinging the door open as he entered, his face revealing his fear. Reid jumped away from the mirror with a yelp and instinctively put his hands up. It was a stance adopted long ago, back when he got ambushed by his classmates while walking down the street, when his mother turned on him during her more violent episodes, when jocks had constantly beat him half to hell. Reid saw Morgan's eyes flash with guilt from startling him. Still, he took a slow step towards Reid, then another, and Reid forced his breathing to slow. It was only Morgan, the man who had somehow fallen in love with him.

Reid wished he could warn the other agent as he continued to approach him, but Reid's mouth refused to work. Get back, he wanted to say. Don't get any closer to me. You'll only end up hurt. He tried to silently convey the message, but Morgan simply kept closing the distance, body tensed as if expecting Reid to flee. But Reid stayed in place. He was frozen under Morgan's gaze, the gaze that clearly showed he knew what Reid was trying to tell him but didn't give a damn.

Suddenly, Derek was right in front of him, only a few inches between their faces. Reid could see the question in Morgan's eyes, the hesitation. All Reid would have to do was nod. He wouldn't even have to be the one to initiate the kiss. Reid's heart was crying out, begging him to just throw aside his doubts and do it, but his mind was protesting, giving him a thousand reasons why he should just leave. Reid closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mind was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. His mind was the one who begged for more Dilaudid every time he was alone. For once, he wouldn't listen to it. Ever so slowly, Reid nodded.

Almost instantly, Derek's lips were on his, soft and warm and perfect. Reid's brain went into shock and he flailed weakly for a second before responding to Morgan's touch, to his warmth, to his chest pressed against his own and his mouth on Spencer's. He grabbed Derek's shirt with one hand and the back of his head with the other, pulling them closer together. Derek carefully wrapped one arm around Reid's waist. When Reid still didn't pull away, he gently threaded his other hand through Spencer's hair. Reid rested his hands on Morgan's shoulders and fought back a sigh of content. Every bit of skin touching Morgan was on fire. His thoughts were whipping around his brain too fast to register. Everything else didn't matter. It felt like fate, like destiny, and all of Reid's doubts vanished. He never wanted this moment to end. Spencer wanted to stay in Derek's arms forever.

Finally, they drew apart, both gasping for air. Their kiss had had the exact opposite effect of Dilaudid. Dilaudid made him feel cold and numb, drifting aimlessly between alertness and sleep. Morgan, on the other hand, made every bit of him sing, made his heart race and his head spin. That chill, the one that hadn't left since Georgia, melted away. His fingers and toes tingled, but not unpleasantly.

The voice in his mind, the one that was ashamed of him and winced every time the needle went into his arm, was warning him to let go of Morgan, to walk away. He still could. It wasn't too late. But the demons in him were begging him to pull Morgan back, wind his arms around him, and shove his tongue down his throat. That was the part he gave into each time he stuck that syringe into his arm, and that was the part he gave into now. He yanked Morgan back towards him and kissed him harder, relieved when Morgan kissed him back with the same fervor. He savored the fire coursing through his veins, dispelling the numbness left behind by his last dose. Maybe it wasn't the demons he was giving into. Because nothing that felt so good, so right, could ever be wicked.

When they finally untangled themselves, they were both panting. Morgan's shirt was wrinkled and his lips were swollen. Reid's hair was sticking up in all directions, and when he glanced at his face in the mirror, his cheeks were flushed. It had been so long since he'd felt alive. Morgan's eyes were alight, full of affection and longing. They spoke louder than any words ever could. Reid wanted his eyes to always shine so brightly. He hoped his eyes were speaking for him too.

Their eyes stayed locked for another moment. Neither of them wanted to break the spell, but there was something Reid needed to say before his sense came back to him, before his brain could regain its logic and give him a million reasons why he shouldn't say anything.

"Derek," Reid whispered. He was surprised at how raw, how desperate, his voice sounded. "I need help."

They went to Morgan's place that night. Both had asked Hotch for some personal time, and both had heard the understanding of the situation in Aaron's answer. As soon as they were inside his house with the door shut behind them, Reid reached into his messenger bag with shaking hands and withdrew the syringes and vials. Morgan didn't comment. He simply watched as Reid dumped the contents down the drain and broke the tip off each syringe. It couldn't go on any longer. Reid wouldn't let it. And Morgan was supporting him now, ready to stay by his side through all of it. For only a second Reid hesitated. It would be so much easier to just give in, to escape. But then he looked over at Morgan and saw the love and support radiating from him. His determination strengthened. Time to face his demons, once and for all, and win.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed this! If so, I would really appreciate feedback. Reviews make me smile! :) But please no flaming.

Thanks for reading!