Extreme anger.

Spencer taps his fingers against his desk. If one more person comes to him and asks him if he's okay, or if he's sick he's going to snap. It's his first day feeling well enough from withdrawals to leave his house, and now they're concerned? He'd been going through withdrawals for the last week while he rid his body, cold turkey mind you, of diluadid.

They'd all known he'd been using. They'd all hinted at it, mentioned it in one way or another but not a single one of them were willing to help him. none of them even tried. But now, now when the hard work is done and he's /mostly/ clean is when they want to ask if he's okay or if they need anything. They want to feel helpful now that he doesn't need them.

He runs his hands through his hair and just barely contains a growl. Maybe he shouldn't have come in today. He's not getting anything done. He's got a headache now, and a loathing... an absolute loathing for the people he works with. He hated their fake concern. He hated the way they thought he was weak. He hated when they said he needed family.

This time he does growl.

He gets up and grabs his bag. "Reid, is something wrong?" Hotch asks softly. Spencer puts his bag on and grabs his coat and walks up to his boss. before Hotch even has a moment to consider what is happened Spencer pulls back and punches him as hard as he can in the face. Hotch stumbles back and stares shocked at his seething underling.

Morgan gets up with the rest of the onlookers and stands between them. "He's going through stuff Hotch," Morgan says, even though he;s positioned to protect Hotch from anymore punches. "Go home Reid. When you return, I expect you in my office before you so much as look at your desk," Hotch says. Spencer marches away from them and takes the stairs down.

"Sir, are you okay?" Garcia asks shakily. She'd never seen Hotch get hit, for one. He has better reflexes than anyone she'd ever met. She'd never seen Spencer hit anyone, either. Not unless it was an unsub. "I'm fine Garcia. Carry on."

Spencer walks the entire way home with a scowl on his face. Once he's safe and in the comfort of his own dark, quiet home he undresses and turns the air conditioner on before entering his bed. The second his eyes close he falls asleep.

He dreams of men with powdered wigs waving gavels. Guilty, guilty, sacrifice...

He wakes in a cold sweat. He hit Hotch earlier. He scrambles for his phone and dials his bosses number with shaking hands. He doesn't even know what time it is. It doesn't matter. Hotch always answers.

"Hotchner," he hears the oddly comforting voice of his boss say. "Hotch... I... I can't believe I..." Spencer says before he begins crying. Hotch hasn't said anything. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Spencer cries. Hotch still doesn't say anything. Spencer hangs the phone up and sobs into his hands. He had turned on the person he'd trusted the most and looked up to the most.

But he had been so angry. So childishly angry and now he is just full of pain. He's pulling at his hair and concentrating on breathing when Hotch walks into his house. He's standing in front of his subordinate with a frown. "Spencer," he says into the silence of the room. Spencer looks up at his boss. There's a bruise on his face.

"I quit," Spencer says. "I can't work for you anymore. I can't do that. I'm no better than one of our unsubs." Hotch sits on the bed and puts an arm around his subordinate. "Spencer, I don't want you to quit," Hotch says. "That's what victims of violence always say! You'll make excuses for me and validate me abusing you," he begins to hyperventilate.

Hotch squeezes him. "You didn't abuse me. This is not abuse. You punched me because you were upset and I just happened to be the first person to cross your path. It's a good thing it wasn't one of the ladies or you would've been in a lot more trouble. You've got a mean hook," he smiles. Spencer is just gaping at him. How can he make jokes about this?

"I know what's been going on. I should have stepped up and helped you before. You're clean, and that's why you lashed out." Spencer leans against his boss. "No one helped me get clean. No one helped me at all." Hotch pets the younger man. "It might seem like that, but we all did what we could without calling attention to it. We knew you wouldn't get clean until you were ready."

Spencer doesn't know what to say. He had felt alone the whole time. "We should have done more," Hotch admits softly. Spencer doesn't answer him. He's tired now. "Do they all hate me now?" He asks of his team. "Of course not. We all understand Spencer. It's alright. I wrote that you became ill and had to leave for the day. I expect you to take as much time as you need."

Spencer frowns when Hotch rises from the bed. "I'll be there tomorrow morning. I'm going out of my mind being home," he says softly. Hotch pets him softly and he leans into the contact. "Do you want some company tonight?" He asks. Spencer nods weakly. Hotch removes his shoes and his jacket. He drops his jeans and gets into bed next to Spencer.

Spencer aches to make physical contact but doesn't know how to ask. Hotch doesn't give him much time to consider social cues before pulling him close and letting him lay his head on his shoulder. "Good night Spence," he says softly. Spencer wraps his arm around Hotch and closes his eyes. "Night Hotch."