I don't know if this is the first of it's kind well maybe not plot-wise or with the use of the song but I am pretty sure this is one of the first fics with this song using Spencer Reid and Lila Archer. The song "Whiskey Lullaby" is kinda a staple of unrequited love and what it can cause including the guilt and finally suicide. As much as it pains me to kill off my dear awkward Spencer. ::sniff:: It called to be written after I listened to the song and kept nagging at me. So yes this will be a one-shot and never a real story i don't think I could continue this. And this will be a song-fic because the song captures what I felt thinking about it. Review if you want.

The alarm clock screamed and screamed and screamed.

Spencer wished it would stop but he couldn't bring himself to move his arm to slam the snooze button. He wished he could stay in bed. He had a massive headache, his mouth felt like cotton, and the early morning light filtering in through the metal blinds burned in his eyes like the noonday sun back in his hometown of Las Vegas, Nevada. He had to get to work. He had already called into the BAU "sick" twice this week because he had such a massive hang-over, like he did today. He had made a habit of going to the local bars around Quantico after work. Gideon had removed him from field work after he showed up to a stake-out involving Elle Greenaway and a serial drunk. Drinking, Elle had said, helped drown the memory and the pain of when she was shot in her own home. Together they toasted with vodka and whiskey from both of their mini-fridges in their hotel rooms.

Spencer was never much of a drinker. Even with all those times gambling in Las Vegas casinos, the most he would drink was a bottle of Samuel Adams. Hence, Elle being sober enough to participate in the stake-out and his, well, being drunk off his ass. Now he was stuck with Garcia in her techie-cave all day. He liked it in there. It was always semi-dark unlike the bull pen where his desk sat under the hundreds of bright florescent lights. He finished his work with many many hours to spare. This left him plenty of time to think about her.

Lila Archer.

She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget

He had met Lila while working a seminar in Los Angles and the death of a celebrity named Natalie Ryan and her fiance led to believe the unsub stalking Lila and would harm her if anyone got in his "courtship" with Lila. Spencer was assigned to be her bodyguard as she was moved to a safe-house. She was definately a beautiful young woman how could he not have been attracted to her? He didn't think that he would mean anything to her, just another bodyguard, just another person working for her temporarily until this unsub was caught. That's why he suprised when she had pulled him into the pool and kissed him telling him she liked him. His first thought was transference. But after the unsub was caught, which he wasn't actually a he but a she, Lila's best friend from Juliard, she had expressed her feelings, wanting to see him again, writing constant emails telling him not believe all the gossip about her in the glossies. She only wanted him.

Spencer stood in front of the mirror of the BAU's men's bathroom and shook his head.

He had belived her. How could he have been so stupid, thinking he ever had a chance with somene like Lila?

She had expressed wanting to see him and the two made plans to meet up in Las Vegas where she was shooting a magazine ad and then some r-and-r. Spencer had taken one of his rare vacation weeks to see her. He was as giddy and nervous as a school boy. He had never felt this way about any woman before. He had stood in front of her hotel room door. He heard her laugh from the inside. The same laugh, he had witnessed in the pool that night several months ago. He knocked on the door expecting Lila to answer it.

A tall muscular what Garcia would call a meat-head or what Morgan would so eloquently call a classic douche-bag/tool answered the door wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist. He seemed oddly perplexed that a skinny man dressed like a nerd was knocking at the door.

"You aren't room-service." the tool had said squinting at Spencer. Spencer stumbled over his words.

"Sorry . . . uhh . . . I must have . . . wrong room."

"Who is that, Mike? came a woman's voice.

"I dunno, babe," the tool named Mike had answered. "Who are you?" he asked again standing up straight and puffing his chest out like a bird defending his nest and territory. Spencer should have laughed at this but he stood frozen. He knew that woman's voice.

An arm slithered around the tool's waist. Then a blonde headed body clad only in a short silk robe appeared from around the door-way. "Babe, who is it?" she asked. She turned to Spencer. "Spence? I--"

"Don't call me Spence." Spencer had said. "Have a nice time with your obvious tool." With that he had turned and walked straight to the hotel bar where he ordered a double-shot of Jack Daniels. Part of him wished she would have run after him but he was too smart to know she really didn't care about him. He didn't leave Vegas that night but stayed in self-imposed exile in his hotel room and was kept company but the bottles and bottles of Jack Daniels and Grey Goose.

We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night . . .

He drove himself to his local liquer store as he did everytime he got off work. With his daily trips to the liquer store, he had acquired a hefty stash back at his small apartment but he never wanted to run the risk of running out. Some of his drinking days were worse than others. Last night had been a light night but with his drinking everyday, he had a constant hangover. Hangovers were painful and reminded him of that night in Vegas. He needed to be numb. Numb to the pain. Numb to the misery. Numb to the memories.

As he paid for his usual bottles of Grey Goose and Jack Daniels, he noticed the gossip magazines. Glossies, Lila had called them. The covers full of hot pink and highlighter yellow were -hard to look at sober or hungover. They all said various versions of the line, "Lila Archer to wed pro-wrestler, Ironfist Mike! But where is her little geeky mystery man?" Spencer stiffened. It was like they were throwing it in his face.

Tonight was going to be a heavy night. He had burned all of his pictures of her all of the candids she had sent him were burned until they were nothing but ashes. But with the new images of her and her soon-to-be hubby were branded into his brain leaving a scar that would never fade. He breathed deeply as he drove his car home. Numb. He would be numb tonight.

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees

Not bothering with the a glass or taking off his work clothes, Spencer sat down with all of the bottles of Jack he had. He unscrewed the top of the first bottle and began gulping down the golden liquid. The whiskey was warm going down slowing thawing his frozen heart and slowing the beating of it, relaxing it. He began to feel dizzy and light-headed. But a simple buzz was not going to help him tonight. He polished off his first bottle and then the second until he didn't know what bottle he was on. His mind was clouded but Lila's image still lingered there. He was not truly numb. He didn't want to feel the pain anymore. He wanted to be free. He banged his hands on the table toppling one bottle onto the floor causing it to smash into pieces. Spencer simply stared at it then looked down at his side. His gun still holstered at the hip.

He remembered trying his hardest to get certified to carry a gun like the others even enlisting the help of Hotch to get it. He was so proud when he got it and told everyone by smugly giving Morgan back the whistle he had given him. He turned the gun over in hands. He knew what he wanted to do.

In a sloppy drunken hand, he wrote one final short letter to his mother. Whoever found would make sure it got to her. On another sheet of paper he clumsily wrote, "I will love her until I die."

He closed his eyes and one final tear escaped as he put the gun to his head and gave one last toast to Lila before one round entered his brain.

Only then was he numb. Painless. Free.

We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby

(sing lullaby)

JJ and Garcia found him the next morning slumped over the table and the blood pooling at his feet. They had wanted to talk to him. Comfort him. But they were too late.

Dr. Spencer Reid was buried underneath a willow in the cemetary for federal law enforcement. His epitaph on his tombstone read: "It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone."

The rumors flew but nobody know how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath

Lila sat in her living room poring over wedding magazines taking break every few minutes or so to watch the TV program playing on E! waiting for the featurette about her upcoming project. Her new manager Paul had said it was smashing.

"And now some tragic news for all the underdogs and all the underdog lovers. Lila Archer's mystery man was found dead in his home yesterday morning." Lila's head snapped up to look at the TV. Had she heard right? She took the remote and turned up the volume. "Many of you know that during that horrid time last year when Lila had the awful stalker she was placed in FBI custody and there were rumors that she and her bodyguard as we have learned his name was Dr. Spencer Reid were in a secret relationship with one another. Until these new photos surfaced this morning, E! has discovered that the gossips where right." Lila watched as various stills of her and Spencer's time in her pool of the safe-house flashed across the screen. She put her hands in her head to hide her face and tried to cover her ears. She thought those had been destroyed. "The cause of death was said to be suicide. No long drawn out suicide note but a simple sentence. 'I will love her till I die.' Makes us wonder is he speaking of Lila? Thanks for joining us. I'm Kasie Krauss signing off of Entertainment Tonight."

Lila was frozen, her eyes glued to the screen. And her vision clouded as the tears spilled over onto her cheeks. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be.

"No. No. No. No," whispered Lila. "It's not true."

She quickly got up and went over to her junk drawer. It had to be in there. That lone buisness card. After the incident with Maggie last year, SSA Aaron Hotchner had given her his card (at Spencer's request) just in case Maggie had ever come looking for her again. She fumbled through its contents and finally found it in the back of the drawer stuck between Mike's endless supply of super-size condoms. He was convinced that since he was a pro-wrestler he needed to be super-sized. Lila, however, didn't think so.

Lila's hands were shaking so badly that she dropped the phone a few times before she could properly dial the number. She dried her eyes as the phone rang. This had to be some sick joke.

"Agent Hotchner," a voice answered on the other line.

"Um, hey Agent Hotchner, I am Lila, Lila Archer. I know you have many many case you work on but i was one of your stalking cases from LA. I --"

"Lila, my memory recounts every detail of all the cases I and my team work on. Is there anyway I can help you?" Hotch's clipped tone was cold and biting.

"I was just wondering, this is going to sound crazy. But I just saw on E! that Spence . . . I mean Dr. Spencer Reid had been found dead in his home? I figured someone was just playing a game with me or maybe that Maggie was back and trying to get to me again and I just wanted to check with you."

"Ms. Archer, I can assure you, no one is playing a game with you and what are you playing at anyway? Calling me about him? I almost wish that someone was playing a game with you then it would be easier on all of us here at the BAU. But since we have no one here to catch. No one to take vengence upon for Spencer's death, it makes it really difficult for me to even be speaking to you."

Lila listened intently and took the verbal lashing Agent Hotchner was giving to her. After what she did to Spencer it seemed like a fitting punishment to get verbally abused by someone she hardly knew and had no right to take his anger out on her. She never she shouldn't ask it but she did anyway. "So it was suicide then?" She heard Agent Hotchner suck in a deep breath before he answered her.

"Yes, it was. Good bye, Ms. Archer." Hotch said his voice easy calm but with a slight edge to it before he ended the phone call. Lila listened to the dial tone for what seemed like several hours before nodding to herself and stalking off to the kitchen to find Mike's hidden whiskey stash. He was out on the town for his stag party before the wedding. Knowing how horny Mike was all the time and how many strip clubs he and his friends were going to visit, Lila knew he wouldn't be back in until late tomorrow afternoon. Tonight it was her and Jack.

She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night . . .

Lila and Mike were married the following week. As Lila drank more, her stardom went down. As her stardom was drained so was Mike's affection for her.

It all came to a head one night while they were staying in Las Vegas at the same hotel were she and Spencer had last seen each other. Lila's drinking had become a staple of her exsistance she didn't even have to ask room service to bring up a bottle of whiskey anymore. It was already there waiting for her. "Hello old friend," she said picking up the bottle and pouring herself a glass.

"Lila stop it," Mike hissed as he came into the bedroom.

"No," she said and tried to turn away from him. He knocked the glass out of her hand. "What the hell, Mike?"

"All this drinking isn't healthly." Mike said with mock sincerity.

"Healthly for me or healthy for my image, Mike?" Lila yelled. "Let's face it you only married me because I of my "A-List" status in Hollywood," she spat taking a swig from the bottle. "You loved all the power it brought you! Let's face it, without me you would be a nobody."

"WELL AT LEAST, I DIDN'T USE THAT "A-LIST" STATUS POWER TO DRIVE SOMEONE TO KILL THEMSELVES!" yelled Mike.

Lila was rendered silent. The words were a slap in the face. She would rather have him hit her than pin the blame on her. But deep down she knew she was to blame for Spencer's death. "That's not fair, Mike," she whispered, "but thank you."

She turned slowly and walked calmly into one of the suite's bedrooms and locked the door behind. She gulped down the whiskey until there was no more. She needed more. She didn't want to feel the pain. She wanted to feel anything but the pain, sadness, and guilt she felt now. She slid to floor. Sobs escaped wracking her body with spasms. She didn't hear herself crying. She couldn't deal with it anymore. She listened at the door to see if Mike was outside. She heard the slamming of door to the suite. He was gone possibly forver. "Good," she told herself. No one should have to see her in the state she was in. She put on her huge sunglasses and a scarf around her head. She walked to the liquer store, no fancy whiskey tonight just the generic stuff that was more potent would be right for tonight's last hoorah.

She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life

Flashbulbs went off in Lila Archer's hotel room as the CSI's took pictures of Lila's dead body curled into the fetal position around what seemed like a picture of someone. Her position was one pf proctection, a sheild, as if she were trying to block out something. The last thing she saw was Spencer's picture. She never how she truly felt about him until her last moments. She had truly loved him and cared for him. He affected her in a way no one else had and within the span of those two days in LA had seemed to know more about her than Mike ever had in their five years of marriage.

Now finally she was getting the chance to be with him again.

We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby

(Sing lullaby)

So what do you think? Good? Bad? When I wrote the part where Spencer killed himself, I had to get up and walk away from the computer to compose myself. Spencer is such a lovable character and if anything like this ever happened to him I would be most distraught. Reviews are highly appreciated. loves to all!