Author's Note: For uncensored stories, visit me on AO3 or my blog, links to these are provided in my profile.

A/N+: Set somewhere after/between episodes 2.20 to 3.02 because this is the time I can ascertain that Reid may have gone to detox. Episode 2.19 is when he says as part of the arsonist's profile "arsonists are like drug addicts and would be almost impossible for him to quit without help" so I am guessing this is when he reached out to Gideon. Then from estimates in later episodes (for how long he's been clean) when he finds Gideon's letter in episode 3.02 is the last time he does drugs. References to 2.17 "Distress" and a short scene from 3.02 "In Birth and Death (In Name and Blood)" in Milwaukee.

Gideon tried to talk to him, tried to empathize, urged him to work through it. After the arson case in South San Francisco, like a good father he had taken him to a clinic and checked him in. However, the second time Gideon had found him high as a kite, the older man had not been able to mask the flicker of disappointment that crossed his face. Spencer had almost flown into a rage. What right did he have to be disappointed? He needed help, not an understanding parental figure. This time was worse; it only ever seemed to get worse. Walking home, he had passed a house with all its windows open. The smell of frying fish had wafted out and he had barely made it into a nearby alley before regurgitating his lunch. After that, Reid couldn't make it home fast enough; he had practically wrenched the bathroom door off its hinges in his haste to shoot up. As he lay there letting the blissful numbness take him he thought, "I need help. I can't do this alone."

Reid woke up on the tile floor. The cold smooth surface felt soothing against his flushed skin. He was sweating; he pulled the uncomfortable wet fabric of his sweater off and tossed it aside. There was a small tinkling noise and he watched with disinterest as the used syringe rolled away from him. Somehow the small bottle of Dilaudid had ended up at the base of the sink, the cap for the needle a few inches away from it. Fumbling into his pocket he pulled out his cell. Checking the time, he idly noted that he'd been out for about six hours. Who could he call? If he phoned the clinic directly they would send people to pick him up. He shivered. That reminded him too much of the time he had his mother committed. Scrolling through the list of contacts he made a small sound of disgust as Gideon's name came up. He put the phone down and rolled onto his back. Somewhere in between the front door and bathroom he had lost one of his shoes. He toed the other one off, listening to it clatter harshly when it dropped to the floor. Propping his feet with their mismatched socks against the side of the bathtub he mentally scrolled through the rest of his possibilities. There was no way he was calling Morgan. That would be too much like calling Gideon. The thought of being called "little brother" while being fussed over almost caused him to be sick again. JJ was too much like an older sister, and she already felt so guilty for splitting up and leaving him alone. He loved her too much to cause her more pain, the sight of him strung out like this would probably send her into hysterics. That was also the reason he couldn't call Garcia. Nope, no substantial help would be coming from that front. Prentiss? Reid really liked her. He sensed she could really handle anything thrown at her. Her calm demeanour soothed him and she could be relied on to keep her head in a difficult situation. Reid almost reached for the phone before the thought struck him. It was too new, too raw. He didn't want to start his friendship with her on this note. It wasn't that he considered her a stranger; she was part of the team. He admitted to himself that it had always been hard for him to open up and he hadn't built up the necessary defences to handle rejection if his feelings about her were wrong.

That left one person. He turned it over in his mind. He could talk to Hotch. Hotch wasn't like a father figure and he certainly wouldn't pander to him. The thought of involving his boss terrified him for a moment. Would Hotch suspend him? No, the man was strict but fair. As much as he followed the rules, Hotch would bend them to help his team members, as long as said member didn't endanger the team. Gideon broke rules and for some reason, the thought struck Reid that Gideon broke people as well. Like his interrogation methods, he pushed and pushed until they broke. Reid was going to break under Gideon's care. And like the low he was slowly spiralling down to, his mind circled back to Hotch. Hotch knew he had a problem, saw the irritable behaviour, the tardiness to meetings and the moments of blankness; yet hadn't called him out on it. And he knew why; Gideon in so many subtle ways had told him to stay out of it. One little call and he would either be saved or damned. The thought felt appropriate after what he went through with Hankel. His hand skimmed over the cold tile towards the phone. Flipping it open, he pressed the speed dial for Hotch and made the call. Afterwards, before he passed out again, he looked at the keypad and wondered how long Hotch would stay #2.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, it's ... Reid. Ah, do you think you could ... come over my apartment?" Hotch frowned deeply at the broken quality in the young man's voice.

"Reid, are you okay?" he tried to keep his voice even.

"No ... I can't do it on my own. I need help with ... a problem I've been having lately." Reid voice wavered and Hotch had to strain to hear him.

"Do you want me to call Gideon?" He had to make sure Reid knew what he was asking.

The level of panic in Reid's voice skyrocketed "No!" he paused, "... no ... it's got to be you, please help me."

"Okay Reid, calm down. I'll be there as fast as I can." Hotch heard a murmured, "Thank you" and then the line went dead.