Author's Note: So sorry it took as long as it did to write this! :( I hope y'all aren't too mad at me…I had a lot of homework to do, and then my creative juices stopped flowing for a bit…but it's all good now. :) Random revelation: Grissom is younger than Brass! Okay, back on topic! The first part, I warn you is…a bit…okay a lot silly! The second part, to be honest, is rather depressing, but I really like the ending of this chapter…and I hope you do too! :D

Warning: Mild reference to Revelations…kinda.

Disclaimer: If is isn't obvious to you that I don't own Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Gil Grissom or Jim Brass, but that they are owned by CBS, then you're stupid. Excuse my reference to my English teacher. ^ ^ Oh, and more Dante's Inferno quotes. If you read the last chapter, you'll be able to pick it out. If you didn't, it's the big italicized part.

Gil was staring aimlessly at the now dried pool of blood on the pavement, not paying attention to anything or anyone else. He wished he could make the sights and sounds from earlier that day disappear, but they seemed to be burned into his mind; he could still hear the kid's erratic breathing, still see the kid's terrified hazel eyes, still feel the kid's warm blood running through his fingers…

"Gil?" called Jim from a couple feet away, needing help with taking pictures. When Gil didn't respond after a couple minutes, he resorted to other methods… "Gilbert, dormez-vous? … Hey! Gilly!"

Still the other man didn't respond.

Jim pressed his lips together and frowned in frustration until a last resort came to him. "Gilbert...uh...Eustace Grissom! You get over here this instant, mister!" He said in a horribly faked feminine voice.

"It's Charles," Gil replied quietly, deadpan, still lost in his thoughts.

"What?"

"My middle name is Charles, mother." He got to his feet and walked over to where Jim was processing evidence. "And for future reference Jim, my mother doesn't technically talk."

"Your mother doesn't…talk? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Ignoring his partner, Gil grabbed the camera and began to take pictures of the scene.

Though thoroughly confused, Jim was accustomed to the younger man's bizarre behaviors and let it drop. It was obvious from the time he arrived on the scene that this case was going to be hard on his partner.

There was another long and somewhat awkward silence. "So…uh…Gil, you still want to wear this?" Jim asked, holding up the collection bag, which contained Gil's blood-soaked shirt, that he about to put into the van. "You do know that your clothes are going to need to be collected as evidence, right?"

For the first time since arriving at the park Gil looked himself over and realized he was covered in Spencer Reid's blood. "Well, I'm not going to strip here. I'll get arrested," he nodded towards the officer.

Jim laughed, not at the joke, but at Gil's seriousness. "Damn! I would've paid a grand for that show!"

Gil shot him one of his signature looks, but couldn't completely mask his smile. By the end of the hour the crime scene was processed, and the two men took the evidence to the lab.

Spencer lay on the ground, in a tight ball, trying and failing to stop the blood flowing from his abdomen. He couldn't move…he couldn't think…

"My name is Gil Grissom, can you hear me?" Spencer could just barely make out what was being said to him. The words sounded slurred and like they were being said from far away.

Yeah," he groaned.

"Okay, good. Can you tell me your name?"

"Spencer…Reid." His own voice sounded strange to him. God, Zeus, whatever deity there is, please take pity and make this stop!

"Spencer whatever you do you can't close your eyes, do you understand? You can't fall asleep." Spencer was losing consciousness quickly and the thought of death frightened him. Who would take care of his mother if he died?

He wanted to scream as he was pushed onto his back, but all he could force out was a weak groan. In desperation to keep conscious, he began quoting the first thing that came to his mind: "Midway upon the journey…of our life, I found that I was…in a dusky wood… for the right path…whence I had strayed…was lost…Ah me! How hard…a thing it is to tell…the wildness of that rough…and savage place, the very thought…of which brings back my fear! So bitter…it was, death is little…more so: but that the good…I found there may…be told, I will describe…the other things…I saw…" He had to stop; he just didn't have the energy to continue.

Finally, Spencer felt some thing…an oxygen mask…being pressed to his face and bandages pressed to his stomach. As he was lifted onto a gurney, he just couldn't fight anymore and let himself slip into pain-free darkness.

It was weird, being unconscious and at the brink of death. Spencer was dreaming his parents were still together and his mother was cured of her schizophrenia. For once, they were a happy, loving, normal family… Spencer had transferred schools and was no longer a victim of bullying. Life was so good!

Then it changed…his happy life drifted away… He didn't understand what was happening to him. Am I dead? Spencer wondered. Suddenly, something slammed painfully down on his chest and he was thrown back into darkness.