(Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or it's characters)

Yes! It's the Easter Holidays! Two weeks off! Now, before I get too get excited I must say that the majority of that time will be me revising :'( however, I am going to really push myself to write and get chapters out to you guys. I also hope to update some of my other stories which I may have left... :-/

Anyways, thank you for all your reviews and your continued support, I'm not sure where I'd be without it. So thank you ahowell1993, wingedsilverfang, Cherubim, Guest, AZCatmom, fishtrek, Darklightningstorm, ZaritmaTMI, Macy, Rookblonkorules, Ash59, Ludub and Malecwolf!

On with the story!

Enjoy!

Previously:

"You call me Mummy now and you call Martin, Daddy, is that clear?"

Spencer didn't move.

"Your room is upstairs. You will stay in there unless we tell you otherwise. She paused momentarily. "Do. You. Understand?" She said loudly as if the child were stupid.

A normal 18-month-old would probably stare back at the woman with no idea what she was on about, but Spencer had a good idea of what she was saying. He nodded slowly.

"Good," The woman stood back up. Thank god they were only fostering, she thought.


Spencer's apartment was clean as Angela had taught him to be. Kirwin closed the door quietly and stepped towards the counter. He bit his gum hard when he saw the book left on the counter which Spencer had been reading. It was one that Angie used to read him; it helped with his night terrors.

He gently caressed the worn cover and ran his fingers over the pages. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

December 5th 1988

"Will you read to me?" Spencer asked politely, holding the book out to Angela who had been knitting.

"Do you promise to go to sleep if I do?" She asked, looking up from her knitting needles but continuing the rhythmic clicking.

"Uh Huh! I promise." Angela sighed and set down her needles. George's eyes flicked up from his newspaper and he caught Spencer leading his wife from the room. He chuckled and shook his head before returning to his newspaper.

Spencer snuggled up under the covers and presented the book like prized treasure.

"Okay, where did we leave off?" His mother asked, opening the book up.

"Page 115, Line 8. "And when the Sailors lined the deck and stared down into the abyss they realised that they had nothing more to-"

"Okay," Angela laughed, "I found it." She started to read clearly and Spencer watched her with curious fascination.

"-That was all they could do. The waves lay stiller than the land.' I think that's enough for tonight."

"One more page, Mom! Please!" Spencer begged.

"No, it's time for bed. I'll read some more tomorrow night," his mother said sternly and he hung his head. "Or you could read some by yourself."

The small boy shook his head aghast.

"I can't do that."

"Sure you can. I know this is our special book, but you don't have to wait for me to read it."

"'The best way to read is to have it read to you'," Spencer mumbled.

"Who told you that?"

"I'm not sure... she was like you."

"Well, she's a wise woman."

"Spencer!" Kirwin yelled impatiently. He stepped around the counter and into the kitchen and froze abruptly, his foot raised off the floor to avoid the pool of liquid. "Sp-Spencer..." he whispered as he slowly looked down at the blood on the floor. The book slipped from his hand, the corner landed in the blood and the pages started turning a vivid red.

"SPENCER!" Kirwin bellowed as he flung himself from room to room, calling out for his son.

"Shit, shit. SHIT!" He grabbed his phone from his pocket and skidded back into the kitchen. He gaped at the floor as he waited for the ringing to stop.

"Come on, Dave, you son of a bitch..."


"What have you found, Garcia?" Hotch asked as he carefully examined the evidence board. The detective was watching him wearily. A dramatic throat clearing came from the laptop.

"Well, crime fighters, it disappoints me greatly to inform you that I have nada... zilch. The victims have their pasts sealed tighter than Rossi's drinks cabinet-"

"Excuse me?" The Italian Chuckled.

"Oh... it's fair to say that I didn't know you were there, sir. Anyway, I need your permission to dig a little deeper, Hotch. The sort of digging that... khm... is not exactly, well, you know," Garcia continued cryptically.

"Hold off for a bit, Garcia. Emily, you and JJ go and interview Peter Harding; it's better that women speak to him. He's probably not comfortable with men at the moment," Hotch said.

"What are we looking for?" JJ asked.

"I want to know if he knows who attacked him. From the doctor's report, he isn't speaking. Have you spoken to him?" Hotch turned to the Sheriff who put his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"We tried. It was a mistake for me to go in. He was a bit more than uncomfortable with my presence, but even when we sent Lynn," the Sheriff motioned to an older woman who gave a closed lip smile. "He wouldn't tell us anything; he's very closed off right now."

"Sir?" Garcia's voice came through the speaker. "Should I-"

"No. Not yet. Not until we're sure he won't tell us anything. He could give us something. I don't need you doing anything illegal."

"Roger that, Sir. I'll just... I'll call Reid, see if he has any insight," Garcia replied, hanging up before Rossi could argue that it would be best to leave Spencer alone.

"Does she do that often? I mean the illegal things?" The detective asked.

"Unfortunately yes, but the ends justify the means."

The sheriff shrugged and smiled; he admired their honesty.


JJ tentatively walked into the victim's room. Peter lay on the bed staring blankly out the window, a woman beside him had her fingers close to his, but she was careful not to touch him. When the agents walked in Peter flicked his head around sharply and cowered back into the bed.

"Go away," he whimpered.

"Peter... it's okay. We're with the FBI," JJ said quietly flipping out her credentials.

"You should leave," the young woman at the man's bedside hissed. "The last officers to speak to him sent him into a panic attack. He doesn't need that," She grumbled protectively.

"I understand, ma'am-"

"Mrs. Harding," the woman corrected and JJ nodded.

"I realise you're worried about your husband, but the person who did this is still out there, and we need Peter's help to save other targets," Emily put in and the woman looked at her husband who had begun to rock himself gently.

"Okay, I-I'll Wait outside but if you stress him out you will leave. It's not good for him while he's still recovering."

"We understand, thank you," JJ simpered and Mrs. Harding nodding and stepped outside.

JJ walked up close to Peter whose eyes flickered between her and Emily.

"Hello, Peter, we're with the FBI. We're looking for the person who did this to you-"

"Shhh...shhh," Peter whispered as he rocked, his pace increasing.

"It's okay, we're here to help," Emily assured him and Peter shook his head.

"Shhh, no, shhh," Peter muttered. JJ turned to Emily who grimaced.

"Do you remember who attacked you? His name, or what he looked like?"

Peter's knuckles went white as he gripped his knees painfully tight. He took deep uneven breaths.

"Was it definitely a man?" Emily asked and Peter started mumbling incoherently.

"S... S!" Peter gasped, staring into JJ's blue eyes and breaking the skin on his gum.

"S? What does that mean, Peter? Is that his initials?"

"K..." then Peter shook his head frantically. "No, R! R! S.R... S.K! No R!" Peter whispered before he hung his head and scolded himself.

"That's good, Peter. Is that the person who attacked you? Are those his initials?"

"No!" Peter suddenly screeched and he started scratching his arms harshly.

"It's okay, Peter-" JJ made the mistake of putting a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder and the man screeched in terror.

"I can't! I can't! I CAN'T!" He suddenly screamed and the careful fingernails scratching his arms lept up, sunk into his cheeks and dragged down, ploughing skin beneath the already bloody nails.

"Shit..." JJ hissed and she stuck her head out the door. "Nurse!" She yelled into the hallway as Emily placed a hand on Peter's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. Instead, he got worse, his breath coming out in short sharp pants and his cheeks beginning to blossom anew with fresh warm blood.

A nurse scampered in followed by a doctor and Peter's wife.

"Agent's you're going to have to leave now," the doctor said calmly as the nurse prepared a needle for him.

"I knew this was a bad idea," his wife growled and she glared at the agents as they made a hasty exit. As soon as they were back in the hall Emily grabbed her phone.

"Guess Garcia's gonna have to do that digging after all," JJ muttered and she followed Emily down the corridor.

"Hey, Hotch. No, nothing much. Just... well he did keep repeating some initals. S.R... or S.K. I'm not sure, but he seemed adamant about it," Emily said as JJ led her to the car. "I have no idea. Okay, we're leaving now."


Spencer opened his eyes painfully and saw the sky pass over his vision. He closed his eyes against the bright light and whimpered quietly.

Where am I?

He felt his body jostle and a sudden bump sent him spiraling back into darkness.


May 1983

Spencer stroked the rat's head gently. The rat was friendly enough but he'd send the toddler a warning squeak when he petted him too hard with overly curious and clumsy fingers.

"You'we my best fwiend, Dicken," he whispered to the rat. He'd found the creature in the garden and when the animal hadn't run away he'd smuggled him into the house in a desperate attempt to obtain some company.

"We'll be fwiends fow evew," he whispered with a smile.

"Spencer!"

The boy's eyes widened and he darted under the bed and pulled up the loose floorboard he'd found and carefully laid the rat inside.

"You tan come out soon," the 20-month-old whispered to his new friend. He put the floorboard back in place and pushed himself out from under the bed and grabbed his teddy bear off his bed and waited for his door to be opened. A tall slim woman waltzed in and Spencer held his breath.

"Who were you talking to?" She quipped and Spencer gulped and held up his teddy bear.

"Teddy," he whispered and the woman rolled her eyes.

"You know my clubs on," she hissed and Spencer nodded and looked down. "Here," she thrust a cookie into his hands and tried to pull her tight lips into a smile. "That's your dinner," she added and Spencer stared at it sadly. He needed more than her solid inedible cookies which were unkind on his milk teeth.

"But I-"

"Eat that and then go to bed," the woman grumbled. Spencer frowned and glanced out the window at the sun. It was still 4 pm.

"It's not bedtime, Mummy " Spencer mumbled nervously. His foster mother growled like a feral bitch whose pups had been touched, clearly, Spencer was not a pup, he was a threat. She stormed towards the window and yanked the curtains shut. She then grasped the boy under his arms and plonked him on his bed.

"I don't want to hear from you again," she said, before shutting off the light and shutting the door behind her. Spencer sat up in his bed and looked at his cookie. He tried to put it in his mouth. It was about a weak old and had the texture of cement and the taste of salted porridge that had been allowed to sit for days in an old shoe. He ran his small tongue over the cookie and recoiled in disgust.

He swung his legs over the bed and carefully lowered h8mself onto the floorboards so as not to alert the laughing ladies downstairs of his presence. He wriggled under his bed and pulled up the floorboard. A small squeak greeted him and when his eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw the tiny curls nose poking out and sniffing out his scent. Spencer smiled and gritted his teeth as he snapped off a piece of cookie and gave it to his friend.

"I'll loot aftew you," he promised in a hushed voice, allowing the rat to climb out and sit in his palm as he gnawed on the solid mass of 'cookie.' He seemed to enjoy it.

"I won't let you get hungwy," Spencer whispered as he ran a gentle finger down his friend's smooth coat. The rat made a contented hum and he shivered in pleasure and allowed the child to continue stroking him.


"Okay sir, so I've delved into our victims pasts and I gotta tell you it was not easy, whoever put all those blocks on their records were really good at their jobs, but I'm better," Garcia said and Morgan smirked.

"So, I may have found something... or someone. All of our victims were in foster care, correct?"

"Yes, what about it?" Morgan asked.

"Well my sweet chocolate moose, I was able to find one similarity in all 3 of our victims. His name is Tony Walker and he was a foster father to all three of our victims. He also has a wife, but I know we're looking for a guy and he sounds like the one. I'm sending you the info."

Hotch grasped his tablet as the message came through and he frowned at the picture of the man. He hasn't expected any less. Tony has fine, thin hair in a limp mess on the top of his head. It was growing grey and large clumps had clearly fallen out leaving blotchy patches of scalp. His face was lined with painful wrinkles across his forehead where from frowning and in the corner of his eyes from squinting. The edge of his mouth was practically free of said lines from lack of smiling. He lips were thin and tight, pulled in a straight line and his icy green forest eyes were locked on the camera, their murky shade challenging the person behind the camera. Hotch guesses behind those lips Tony had only several teeth left; he didn't look like the kind of guy to care about brushing his teeth.

"Well isn't he a stunner," Rossi grimaced, placing his tablet back on the table.

"He fits the profile," JJ Mumbled absently.

"I'm gonna show Peter this picture," Rossi said suddenly, grabbing his tablet. Morgan also got up and went to follow him but Hotch gave them a stern look.

"Is that wise?" He asked and Emily nodded in agreement.

"We don't need him to say anything. I'll know at his reaction," Rossi put in. "Keep us posted."

"Okay are you guys ready for a whole lot of information. Get a pen ready," Garcia said as she took a deep breath.

"Go for it, Garcia," JJ announced.

"I just wanna say that I think I've cracked this whole case open, anywho, let's start with. She was fostered by Tony and his wife in 1970. She stayed with them for 4 years when she was 7 until a new home was found for her. She falls off the grid a little bit, but she was adopted by her auntie when she was 16. Zachary was 6 when he was taken in by Tony in 1975, only lasting 2 years and I have some super secret reports that he'd run away 3 times and in the end they placed him in a children's home, where he stayed until he was 12 years old before being fostered again where he stayed until he was able to get a job and have his own place. Peter was the oldest, he was 9 and only lasted at Tony's for a year and a half but he ran away and showed up in another state."

"Was there any reports of suspicious behaviour? Abuse?" Emily asked.

"Not up to that point though. But after the incidents with Peter CPS didn't give Tony any children for several years, but you know how it is, they get desperate-"

"Was there another child?" Hotch inquired and the three agents exchanged a panicked look.

"I'm afraid so."

"That's our next victim!" JJ said. "We have to warn them. Garcia, do you have an identity?"

"That's where things get complicated. This last kid is very closed off. I only have a picture of him and a paragraph of information."

She started to read the paragraph slowly. "Child put into the care of Tony and Daniella Sydow, 1984. Age 3. Removed after signs of abuse. ... put under investigation. Photo taken after child was removed. Pictured age 5, 1997."

That's all there is. There's no name. He looks like a Teddy... or an Oliver," she sighed sadly.

"Dig deeper, find any articles and police reports on Tony and his wife. Prison records anything."

"Okay. Um... it looks like this last child blew open a whole case against Tony. All four children were interviewed. There are some statements from the first 3, but mystery child literally disappears. There are some images... Oh... oh."

"What is it?"

"There are pictures of his back... he was beaten. Oh, that poor angel. I'm sending his image to your printer."

JJ stood and walked over to the printer. She watched as it printed and stared at the child. He was small and frail. His skin pale and his frame thin. He looked younger than 5. He had a mop of curly brown hair and wide brown eyes, filled with fear. He was staring off at something beyond the camera and JJ could see tears forming in the corners of his chocolate eyes. Jj felt her heart melt. She pinned it to the board next to a note Emily had written, reading 'Victim 4.'

"The statement from the first children show that they were frequently abused. Sexually and physically. Tony was sentenced to 10 years."

"Son of a bitch," Hotch hissed as he glared at the image of the children on the board. Each looked terrified.

"So he's out," JJ grunted. "Do you have any information on his location."

"No... he's been off the grid for quite some time. His wife lives at their old address, but she's the only resident. His case was well hidden, I think that was in order for the children to have new lives," Garcia mumbled sadly.

"We need to identify that child and warn him. Garcia, you have to keep digging. Did Reid offer anything?"

"No... he didn't pick up. I wasn't really expecting him to though," Garcia replied and Hotch nodded. They could really use the kid's help.


June 13th, 1983

"A little scwarny, don't you think Donald?" She said, turning her nose up at the boy.

"I suppose," Donald grunted, glancing at the child.

"We do feed him, mother."

"Of course... but," and she pulled her daughter back to whisper in her ear.

"Couldn't you have picked a girl or something?"

"There's not much choice. Besides, after that fire, they needed to give him a home."

"Fire," Anastasia gasped and she hurried forward and looked the small boy over. She grabbed his arms and recoiled.

"Oh, Cheryl..." she mumbled. "These are simply grotesque," she eyed the burns on Spencer's hand and made a face of disgust.

"Leave him be, Anna," Donald grunted, taking sympathy on the trembling child.

"Come have some coffee. Spencer, go to your room," Cheryl said.

Ok

"Tan I have-"

"No. You'll have to wait till dinner," Cheyrl hissed and Spence nodded before scampering up the stairs.

He got to his room and slammed the door. He rushed over to his bed, crept under it and lifted the floorboard.

"Hey, Dickens! I missed you," he whispered, gently lifting out the curious rat and placing him on his shoulder. The rat plodded behind his neck and sniffed the boy's unwashed hair where he'd slept when Spencer had forgotten to put him away. Spencer pulled out his journal and hurried onto his ruffled off white sheets and placed the journal on his lap and the rat on his knee.

The rat sniffed and chewed on his pencil curiously and Spencer giggled happily and rubbed the rat's forehead.

Spencer paused in his journal and looked at the small, skinny rat.

"You'we hungwy? Right?" Spencer asked and he imagine the rat nodding his head but instead he licked his paws timidly.

"Me too. I'll get an Apple fow you tonight. We can shawe," Spencer whispered and the rat's little plump tongue tickled Spencer's hand where there was remenants of orange juice he'd spilt that morning.


"Tony's our guy," the team spun around as Morgan and Rossi walked back in.

"How did he react?"

"Well, we're banned from the hospital now. I thought we sent him into cardiac arrest for a moment there," Rossi said and Hotch nodded.

"We found quite a bit of information. And we know who his next target is," Hotch motioned to the board and Morgan stepped over to examine the hanged of the children. Rossi was about to when his phone rang.

"Rossi," he answered, stepping back over to the door.

Morgan touched the image curiously and frowned.

"He looks familiar," Morgan muttered.

"Huh?" Emily spun in her chair and Morgan straightened up and put his hands in his pocket.

"I dunno, but something about him seems familiar. I swear I've seen this kid before. What's his name?"

"There is no record of a name. Garcia's working on it, there's a lot to unravel."

"What!? No... no, Calm down, George," the team look around to the door where Rossi is suddenly shaking as he shouts back at the phone. "You're sure? No... I believe you." He swallowed thickly and exchanged a glance with Hotch who understood something terrible had happened.

"What's going on?" Garcia whispered from the laptop.

"How much? No that's not good. W-we'll leave now. Well I will, I promise, call the police and wait there, Okay."

JJ was on her feet, stood beside Morgan who's face was blank as he waited for the bad news.

Rossi hung up the phone and it slipped uselessly from his fingers. "It's Spencer," he whispered. And Emily and Hotch were suddenly on their feet.

"What!? Is he okay? Is my baby hurt? Is he-" Garcia started in a panicked bubble of words that fell from her mouth.

"He's gone. Kirwin went to his apartment and found a large pool of blood."

"Shit," Morgan growled.

"We have to leave," Emily gasped.

"We can't," Hotch interjected And Rossi glared at him.

"I'll be damned if I don't. That kids like a son to me," he quipped.

"We're close to a break. If we leave now Tony will kill the last child."

"What child?!" Rossi snapped angrily. Morgan pulled the image off the board and handed it to Rossi before he gritted his teeth and willed his fist not to slam into the hard wall. Rossi grabbed the image but looked at Hotch first.

"I'm leaving. You can wrap this up, but I need to be with George," he muttered before his eyes met the child in the image. The room fell silent and Rossi stared at the image. He let his finger trace the boy's face and a jolt of realisation surged through him.

"Dear god," was all he could say.

"Dave?"

"We have an even bigger problem," Rossi whispered as he forced the picture into Hotch's hands.

"That is Spencer."


Tony watched as a set of big hazel eyes fluttered. His breath caught in his throat when those wet, delicious orbs fell upon him and bloomed in terror. His tongue darted nervously between his plump lips and Toby felt his heart pick up its pace and he was practically panting.

"P-please-" the boy started but Tony covered his mouth with a thick filthy hand.

"Shhh... I didn't think you'd recognise me after so long," Tony whispered a voice Spencer only heard a few times before. Normally his voice was fierce and foreboding.

Spencer pleaded into Tony's fingers as his other hand carded through the young man's hair.

Spencer couldn't take much more. With his thumping head and the mounting stress, his head lolled back and his eyes fell shut.

The past engulfed him once more.


November 21st, 1983

Spencer was lay on his bed, thumbing through the pages of a children's book he'd found at the bottom of the bookcase. He stomach growled but he ignored it. He was used to it. He finished a chapter and smiled brightly. He grabbed his pencil and started to write in his journal that Holly had given him. He was getting better at writing, especially now he had something to read and practice with. He was part way through writing when he heard "Spencer!?" from downstairs. He bolted upright and under his bed, quickly pulling up the loose floorboard and jamming his books into it. He squirmed back out

Martin Dunsford stood at the bottom of the stairs and held the banister with a firm hand. A small boy appeared at the top of the stairs. He was still in his pyjamas which were stained and ruffled. A brown teddy was in his arms one that his foster parents hadn't bought him.

"Daddy?" He whispered a little apprehensively as if the word was strange on his tongue.

"Where's the manual for the Radio?" Martin demanded and the boy starting shaking and wringing his fingers in his teddy's fur.

"I was just weading it, Daddy," the boy whimpered.

"Bring it here, now," Martin snapped and Spencer hurried away, coming back with a flimsy booklet, his teddy bear still tucked under his arm for protection. He hopped tentatively down the steps and held it out to the man who snatched it away angrily.

"I did not say you could have this," Martin quipped and Spencer tried to climb away but Martin grabbed his arm in a bruising grasp. Spencer yelped in fear and gazed up at his foster father with soft brown eyes filled with fear.

"How dare you steal! You do realise what you did was theft?"

Spencer began trembling harder and he shook his head.

"I'm sowwy! I'm sowwy!" He cried and Martin released the toddler.

"Don't take my things again," he warned and Spencer nodded as he grabbed his teddy and scrambled backward. "Now get upstairs."

"Tan I have some food-" Spencer asked hopefully but Martin quickly cut him off and Spencer sprinted up several steps.

"No. Little boys who steal don't get rewarded. You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

Spencer gaped back at the man and touched his empty stomach lightly. He hadn't eaten all day. Cheryl, his foster mother, had tried to force feed his a cookie which he'd pretended to enjoy before taking it up to his rook to feed his best friend.

"Get to your room," Martin bellowed and Spencer almost fell back down the stairs as he stumbled away and out of view.

Martin shook his head and sighed he 7nfolded the manual and laid it on the kitchen counter before smiling at his wife.

"You okay, hun?" She asked.

"Sorry, you had to hear that. I don't know why he drives me to anger like that," her husband grunted and she turned and smile.

"We don't have to have him much longer," she whispered and she led his hand to her slightly rounded stomach.

"Yes, but it looks good on my records. Besides if we wait we will have an excuse for giving him up," he added, caressing her stomach and smiled.

"And we need practice for when our own arrives," Cheryl put in and Martin chuckled.

"He's not normal; our baby will be. Just you, me and the baby," he sighed happily and Cheryl nodded at that idea. Little did they know that the boy upstairs had his own plans.

He knew he had a sibling on the way and he was educating himself on how to be the best big brother ever. They would be a family in his mind; Martin, Cheryl and Spencer Dunsford, and they would soon be a family of four. Spencer bit his lip and he drew a picture of the four of them. If it was a boy, they could share a room and then they'd be best friends (along with Dicken of course.) if it was a girl Spencer would protect her and he was even prepared to play tea parties with her.

Unfortunately, that's not how it worked out...


Whoops... was that another cliffhanger? I'm really good at doing that, sorry ;D

I'm enjoying writing this, but it's taking a long time because I want every chapter to be as good as I can make it, so I apologise for that, but it just me trying to give you my best quality work.

Please review! It really motivated me with this chapter, I love knowing what you guys think. And if you're reading this and haven't reviewed, give it a try. It takes seconds to write one, a lot less time than it takes for me to write a chapter. I don't think anyone on this site can say that they don't like reviews. It makes everyone feel so good so please and thank you ;)

Yes, I know how what I just said may not make sense but it just reflects my character.

Thanks again.

See you soon..l hopefully... revision is a bugger at the moment.

6 WEEKS UNTIL MY EXAMS! I'm so scared!