Authors Notes: Okay well now that I finished Stanford Art (a Sabriel fic, College AU) I'm going back and editing this so that I can update it. I should have (once the editing is done) this updated with new chapters about once a week or so.
Warnings: Slash (please note this is the only time this will be listed as a warning), What can be seen as character death, reincarnation
Chapter 1
He was out of time.
All his life he had been forced to keep this secret, not just for himself but for his mother, the only one in the world who loved him completely. She had known, how couldn't she? She had always known that her baby boy was different, that there was something special about him. He was her special boy, the one person in the world that she trusted as her mind let go, she still held the absolute love for her son. It was humbling, and caused such a love in return to the woman who had given him this life. He had promised her when he was younger, as his memories returned from before. He promised that he would keep this secret, that he would remain her baby boy.
He was out of time.
There was nothing he could do, no way for him to fight this. He had tried so hard, to remain as he was, had even broken down at one point to beg his captor, but there was no stopping a man with this kind of delusion. As he felt the soul within him start to leave his body he did the only thing he could. Using his abilities which had been locked down, he held onto the soul of Spencer Reid, and pulled.
It worked, he had managed to bring himself back from the dead, something that he would process later, much later. As he opened his eyes, he wondered if this was worth it, if life was worth what was going to happen. He had changed, and it was going to hurt, oh it was going to hurt when he wasn't numb from the drug running though his system. The next few hours seemed like a blur, making him slightly thankful that he had the Dilaudid running through his system; as he wasn't sure he would be able to deal with the pain along with trying to get himself out of this mess.
Eventually he did find a way out, even if he had to kill someone to do it. In that moment, he knew he would never be able to go back, that he would never be able to forgive himself for taking a life, regardless of the circumstances. He would be forever changed now, broken in a way. It was that thought which made him hide the vials of Dilaudid when the rescue team finally came. In the next few months, between his lack of emotional response to his team, and making sure he was high most of the day, he had to finally sit down and accept his new life.
He was out of time.
While the rest of the team knew about his addiction, they could never have guessed as to the reason why. When he decided to get clean he used that as his excuse to leave for a while, and while they would never say anything, he knew his team was relieved. Relieved that he was finally going to try and come off the drug, and scared that he would fail. It was the first time since he came back from the dead that he allowed the power in his body to simply erase the drug from his system.
It took less than a second.
There would be no cravings, no longing for the drug beyond knowing what it could do. He would have no relapse, and with that in mind he wondered how his team would take his new sobriety. He wondered if he would even see them again. One thing was painfully clear, he couldn't go back to how he once was. It was only a matter of time before others started to notice him, before they tracked him down.
Diana would have to be told.
It took a month for him to arrange everything. He had to put in for his time off, and while Hotch would me more than happy to give him whatever he needed, Strauss would need much more convincing. If he wanted to keep his job there was no way that he could tell her that it was to detox. A month after he first made the decision he was in his hometown, a small bag at his side while he checked into his hotel and made his way to see Diana.
The receptionist was -as always- pleased to see him. He donated to the clinic as often as he could. While not technically a bribe, they always seemed to be extra happy to see him and to kept him updated a bit more than he knew they did with other families. She was having one of her good days, he was told. When he saw her, sitting by the window with a novel in her hand he had the overwhelming urge to just stand there and observe. This was the woman who had done everything she could for her baby boy, the one who loved him so completely that even on her worst days he could still feel it.
She had only asked one thing of him.
He was out of time.
Slowly, carefully, he made his way to her. Normally he would be happy to hold her, to hug her and announce himself so that she could feel the warmth of her son. Sometimes, before the hospital, before everything went to hell, he would simply hold her for hours. She would always come slightly back to herself after, saying that she needed the connection, that it was the warmth of his soul which would bring her back in the darkest of times. Now looking at her, he wondered if he could still offer her that warmth, that little bit of sanity in her world of madness.
She didn't look up until as he sat before her, and even when she did there was no recognition in her eyes. While the nurse had told him that this was one of her good days, he knew that there was a very good chance that she would never have another 'good' day with him again. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to as she looked at him. When he booked the flight, he knew that this was a possibility, he hoped otherwise.
A mother always knows.
"Is he ever coming back?"
He wanted to give her reassurance, wanted to let her know that everything would be alright, that he didn't have a choice. Even though most of the case was secret, as cases involving an agent being tortured always were, nothing could to make this better. Instead he shook his head, never breaking eye contact with her even though he wanted to bow his head in shame.
When she didn't say anything more, he wondered what she would think of him now. In essence, he knew he had killed her son, the one thing in the world she had loved unconditionally. It wasn't enough that he didn't have a choice, it wasn't enough that if he hadn't she would have been burring her boy. To her this was far worse than death. At least then he would be able to move on.
"I'm sorry, I know that it's not enough… that it will never be enough, but I'm so so sorry. I know that you can't forgive me, I don't want you to forgive me, but I need you to know that I'm sorry."
For a while they didn't say anything, she read her book while the residents and nurses gave them their space. It wasn't unusual for them to sit in silence, although normally that was on her bad days. She didn't scream, she didn't lash out against the man that they all believed to be her son. It was for the best she didn't, he would never be able to properly explain why he deserved it.
"What is your name? What do I call the creature who killed my son?"
It was only his years in the BAU that stopped him from flinching.
"Azrael, they called me Azrael once, a long time ago."
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