Before Spencer was discharged from the hospital, Derek had given a key to his apartment to Rossi so he could drop off Spencer's things, as well as the key to his car so he could drop it off at the hospital.

"Do you need me to do anything else?" Rossi asked, looking up at him.

He sighed, lowering his voice. He was outside Spencer's room, but still didn't want him to hear. "I need you to stop somewhere, get a padlock and a chain, put any knives and sharp instruments in one of the cabinets in my kitchen. I don't want him to have anything around that's going to tempt him."

"Should I put in any medications?"

He nodded. "Anything from my medicine cabinet he could take, put it with the rest."

"I'll give you a call when I'm done. Take good care of him."

He nodded, before turning to walk back into Spencer's room. He was still visibly shaken up from everything that happened earlier in the day, including divulging all of the information and having the doctor bring up the possibility of mental illness. He knew once they got back to the apartment, he'd have Spencer get some sleep – he looked like he could really use it.

When the doctor came by with the discharge forms, he handed Spencer several pamphlets, as well as an appointment card to see a therapist. He stuffed them in his pocket, nodding as the doctor spoke. He grabbed the pen and signed the discharge forms.

"Are you sure about this?" Spencer asked. "You can just drop me off at my place and I'll fend for myself."

Derek shook his head, walking out to the parking lot with him. "It's fine. You just have to deal with Clooney at my place."

Spencer got in the car, quickly buckling his seatbelt. "And if he doesn't like me, you can take me home. I won't be offended."

Derek smirked, shaking his head. "You're not getting away from me that easy." He closed the door and buckled himself in. "I have a guest room that my mother and sisters stay in when they visit. You're more than welcome to sleep there, or you can have the pull-out couch."

"Anything's fine," Spencer admitted, unsuccessfully attempting to pull the hospital bracelet off of his wrist.

Derek started the car, pulling out of the spot and driving. "When's your appointment?"

Spencer pulled the card out of his pocket and flipped it over. "Tomorrow afternoon."

Derek glanced over at him. "Do you need a ride?"

He nodded slightly, tucking the card back into his pocket. "Did Rossi bring my things by the apartment."

"Mhm." He didn't bother to divulge the information about locking up certain things in the house , not wanting him to feel like he was inconveniencing him in any way.

He drove up to the drive-thru at the pharmacy. "Hi, Derek Morgan, I'm picking up a prescription for Spencer Reid?"

The pharmacist nodded, walking away. Spencer sighed, resting his head on his arm. "I don't need someone else to pick up my medication for me, I'm more than capable."

"It's just procedure, kid. It's what they do after situations like this."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "It's not a situation, Derek, it's a failed suicide attempt."

He sighed, putting his card on the clipboard provided by the pharmacist and turning his attention back to Spencer. "I'm not mad at you for this, Spencer. And I don't know what you want me to say or think here, but-"

Spencer shook his head, glancing out the window. "Just forget it."

He reached out, taking the clipboard again and signing his name, waiting to be handed the prescription. Once he got it, he inspected the bottles: two pills, twice a day. He could handle that for him. He tried getting Spencer's attention again, but he was focused on something in the distance, so he just pulled out of the spot, driving to his apartment.

As he parked in front of his apartment building, he got out, walking around and opening Spencer's door.

"You don't have to do this, Derek," he started, getting out and pulling his wrist into his shirt sleeve, trying not to attract any unwanted attention.

"You're more than welcome as long as you need it."

He walked up to the apartment, sure that Spencer was close behind. After unlocking the door, he walked in, putting Spencer's prescriptions on the counter. He raised an eyebrow when he heard the door closed and the shuffling of feet. He turned around and saw Spencer was backed up to a wall, Clooney wagging his tail at him.

Derek smiled slightly. "It's okay, he's just getting to know you."

Spencer bit his lip, making his way over to the couch and picking up his bag. "Guest room?"

Derek pointed down the hall. "First room on the right. Half-bath is attached to it."

Spencer nodded, walking to the room and dropping his bag. Derek peeked in a few minutes later and saw him curled up with the blankets pulled over his head, fast asleep.

Derek sat down on the couch, patting the spot beside him for Clooney to jump up. He scratched behind the dog's ears when his phone started ringing. He quickly grabbed it, hoping the ringing didn't wake Spencer, and shortly after checking the caller ID, answered.

"Hey, Baby Girl."

"Hey yourself. How's my favorite genius doing?"

He shifted to check the guest room again. "He's currently out cold in the guest room. He was barely in the apartment five minutes before he fell asleep?"

"At 7? Poor guy, it's been a long day for him. Has he said anything?"

He leaned back. "He tried to tell me that he doesn't need my generosity and that he'd be fine sitting in his apartment, then tried using Clooney as an excuse for not staying here.

"You didn't believe any of those excuses, did you? Derek Morgan, he can't be alone right now. He needs his family."

He smirked. "I didn't. He's fine. He just really needs his support system right now."

"Where are the knives in your house?"

"Locked in a cabinet to which only I have the combination."

"And any prescription bottles?"

"Locked in said cabinet."

She sighed. "What if this doesn't work, Derek? What if we're there for him and he still wants to do this to himself? Do you know that Hotch and Rossi couldn't even bring themselves to read their letters in front of the team? We're all worried about him and what if we're there and he just… he does it again?"

"Calm down, Baby Girl. We're going to be there for him as much as we can, and if he even thinks about it again, he knows he can talk to one of us to get through it. He's smart, he knows what he can do."

"Take good care of him, promise me."

"I promise. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Send him my love when he wakes up."

"I will." He hung up the phone, sighing, looking into the guest room. Spencer was curled up in a ball on the middle of the bed, his wrist wrapped around his stomach. He wouldn't tell Garcia, or anyone on the team, but he was just as worried as the rest of them, if not more.

A while later, he heard a groan coming from the guest room and raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay in there, Spencer?"

Spencer pushed himself up and dug through his bag. "I'm fine. Where's your shower?"

"Are you sure-" Derek started.

"That I want to take a shower? Yes. Just because I tried to kill myself in a bathtub doesn't take away my interest in hygiene." He pulled out his pajamas, tucking them under his arm and walking out to the living room. "Shower?"

"Next to my bedroom. Do you need-"

"I need to be left alone for ten minutes so I can clean off the smell of the hospital."

Derek sighed. "Do you want that hospital bracelet off your wrist first?"

"Considering you'd need to use a sharp object to get it off, no thank you."

Derek shook his head. "Just close your eyes and hold your wrist out."

"That ended well last time," he mumbled, holding out his wrist and squeezing his eyes shut. Derek got up, grabbing the scissors from the locked cabinet and walking back to the living room, snipping it off his wrist. He tucked the scissors in his back pocket and handed the bracelet to Spencer. "Done."

He looked at the bracelet in his hand. "Why would I want this?"

"Because it's a reminder that you've survived, and that you have people who care about you."

He sighed, stuffing it into his pocket. "The scar I'm going to have on my wrist will be reminder enough, thanks. I know you're going to anyway, but I'm giving you permission to check on me if I'm not out in ten minutes."

Derek nodded. "Enjoy your shower."

After his shower, it was unsurprising to Derek that Spencer went down easily. He barely had time to dry off and change before he curled up on the bed in the guest room, falling asleep almost instantly. Derek sat up on his bed, Clooney beside him, watching the day's highlights on Sportscenter. He heard noises coming from the guest room, but nothing that told him he needed to check on Spencer immediately. He started flipping through the channels when he heard him scream.

"Derek! Derek, look out. DEREK."

Derek shot out of bed, running to the guest room and shaking Spencer's arm. "Reid, it's just a dream, wake up."

Spencer looked up at him, panting. Derek could see the obvious panic in his eyes. He sat up, burying his head in his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry."

Derek sighed, rubbing his back. "I'm right here, nothing's wrong, you were just dreaming."

"I… I actually did it.," he stammered. "And Hotch quit and Garcia changed and JJ lost Henry and Emily left and Rossi got sick and you-"

Derek shook his head, rocking him gently. "It was just a dream, you're fine."

It had taken a half hour for Derek to finally calm down enough to lay back down and relax.

"If you need anything else, I'll be right in my room. My door's open for you."

Spencer bit his lip, nodding. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Derek reached over, turning off the light on his nightstand, and walked back to his room.

He stayed up for another hour, thinking Spencer would need to come in and talk to him. When he didn't, he took it as a positive sign, turning off the television and curling up on his bed, fall asleep. He felt a sudden movement on the bed and assumed it was Clooney, jumping up to keep him company. When he turned around and saw a lump under the blankets much bigger than his dog, it took a minute for him to remember he wasn't alone in the house. Rather than interrupting him, he wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his back.

I'm here for you, Pretty Boy. No matter what. You'll never need to know back to that dark place again, I won't let you.

He was extremely relieved when, the rest of the night, Spencer stayed still, almost seeming content with the current sleeping situation. He didn't know exactly what this was, but knew if it was what Spencer needed, he had no problem with it whatsoever.

The following morning, Derek woke up early for his morning run. When he tried getting up, Spencer kept close to him, groaning in his sleep. Derek looked down at him.

"I'm going for my morning run, Pretty Boy. You're more than welcome to join me."

Spencer shook his head, burying it in the pillow. "Make coffee," he mumbled, curling up.

Derek smirked. "Your wish is my command. Do you want me to make it before I leave, or-"

Spencer put up a finger to him, nodding and pulling the blanket over his head.

He smiled, shaking his head and getting up, looking through his drawers for sweatpants and a tank. After getting changed in the bathroom, he started the coffee. Poking his head back into the bedroom, he saw Spencer was still out cold. "Are you sure you don't want to come with?"

Spencer whimpered, shaking his head, blocking out as much sunlight as he could with the blanket.

"I'll be back in a half hour…"

He nodded, and Derek sent Clooney in to keep him company on the bed. Once Spencer actually did wake up for the day, he didn't want him to be alone.

While on his run, he was able to clear his head of everything that happened the previous day, and think of ways he could possibly help Spencer through this without seeming like he was bothering him.

After he got back, he saw Spencer in the kitchen, curled up on one of the chairs, mug of coffee in his hands.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked, walking in and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

He shrugged slightly, looking back at his cup. "I couldn't find the sugar for the coffee and didn't want to go digging through your cabinets. I'm already a burden, I don't want to invade your privacy too."

Derek shook his head, opening the cabinet above the coffeemaker, taking out the container of sugar and a spoon, setting them on the table. "You're not a burden, kid. You're a guest in my house, and you can do whatever you want."

He silently thanked him with a nod, putting in several spoonfuls of sugar and stirring them in, taking a sip. This seemed to be a pick me up he desperately needed, putting a smirk on his face.

He drank his water bottle, tossing it in the recycle bin. "What time's your appointment?"

He finished his cup of coffee and made his way back to the coffeemaker, pouring another. "12:30. You can just drop me off, pick me up an hour later. No need to waste your time."

He shook his head. "I don't have anything to do, I have no problem waiting."

He added his sugar, looking at the stitches on his wrist.

"Hey," Derek said, getting his attention, "I'm here, you know that, right?"

He nodded slightly, stirring in his sugar and sipping it. "I'm sorry, for last night. I just… you were asleep, and you said your door was open for me. I'm sorry if I took it the wrong way."

Derek put up his hand. "One, you're a lot chattier in the morning than I expected." This had Spencer blushing slightly, giving a quick 'sorry'. "And two, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't want you to come to me. Understood?"

He nodded again, topping off his coffee.

"I'm going to have to buy more coffee with you around, aren't I?" he said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, I'll pay for it," he mumbled, walking to the living room and curling up in the recliner.

Way to go, Derek. You were actually making progress with him and you set him back.

The rest of the morning was practically silent until Derek was driving him to his appointment. Spencer watched out the window, and Derek knew talking to him would be hopeless, because he was completely tuned out. When he parked, he turned to Spencer.

"Are you ready?"

He sighed. "I have to be, this is my way of staying out of a mental facility." He opened the door, crossing his arms and walking inside, Derek not far behind.

Once Spencer was called in, he sat back, grabbing a magazine off the table and looking up at the clock. Surely he'd be able to kill an hour flipping through these.

About twenty minutes later, Morgan felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He took it out and, checking the caller ID, walked out to the hall, closing the door and answering it.

"Hey, Hotch," he started, leaning against the wall.

"How's he doing?"

He exhaled, sighing. "He's better than I expected, but then again, I expected the worst from this situation. I think any of us would have."

"That's for sure."

He heard the folding of paper in the background. "You read the letter, didn't you?"

He sighed. "Just finished it while Jack's at a friend's house. I can now say I understand why you were so upset, and I'm sorry for trying to talk you down from it. You had every right, and you were correct in saying that we should've noticed the signs of it."

"Come on, Hotch, like you said, he's a profiler too. He knew how to hide this and he did it."

He put the letter back in the envelope, putting it in a drawer in his desk.

"What's going to happen at work on Monday? I know Strauss is going to find out-"

"She already knows."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course she does. If she tries to do anything-"

"I'm not going to let her split this team up, Derek. You can count on that. We're a family, and families need to stick together during the hard times."

Derek could never recall feeling so relieved, except of course when he found out Spencer had survived. "We're staying together, you're sure of it?"

"I can promise it."

He smiled slightly. "Listen, I've got to get going. Spencer's in with his therapist right now and if she cuts the session early, I don't want him to walk out to an empty waiting room."

"So you're taking care of him?"

"I am. I know he needs somebody right now, and I know he can't be back in that apartment until he's ready."

Hotch nodded in agreement. "Thanks, Morgan. If you hadn't thought to check on him-"

Derek cut him off. "I know. You're welcome."

He hung up the phone, walking back out and grabbing a magazine off the table.

A half hour later, he heard the door open and closed the magazine, looking up at Spencer. "Ready to go?"

Spencer sighed, tucking the card into his bag. "You didn't have to sit around and wait. It was exactly an hour, you could've done something better with your time."

He shrugged, getting up. "I thought it'd be better for you to walk out and see someone waiting here for you. Do you want to talk?"

He bit his lip. "At your apartment? Please?"

Derek wrapped an arm around him, walking outside.

After they made it back to the apartment, Spencer grabbed a water bottle and sat on the couch, twisting the cap idly. Derek knew there was something he wanted to talk about, but didn't want to rush him into it, afraid he'd shut himself in again. Instead, he sat on the other side of the couch, waiting.

Spencer finally spoke up. "I know why I did it," he whispered, looking down at his lap.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

Spencer bit down on his lip. "I know why I did it – why I tried to kill myself."

Derek was confused. Spencer had just told him his reasoning yesterday at the hospital. "I know, you told me yesterday. Because you felt neglected by the team."

Spencer swallowed, reaching up to wipe his eyes. Derek reached over and grabbed a box of tissues, setting it beside him. "My therapist, she helped me realize it. I was alone… I had no family, no friends, nobody I could really depend on. When everyone else paired off, I was left to my own, dealing with my own emotions. Rather than bother anyone and take them from their pair, I chose to internalize all of my feelings and keep to myself. They finally built up to a point where I couldn't stand the thought of being by myself for another day. I… I took the week off so everyone could spend the time with the other half of their pair, and give them someone to lean on if I succeeded. There was a lot more thought behind it than I realized."

Derek was impressed by the progress he was already showing. "All of that from one session?"

He nodded slightly. "But I still need to go back for several weeks. Unfortunately, there's no magical button to fix everything in a single session, or one to get rid of the thoughts and tendencies. If it were that easy, I could be out of your hair in no time."

"Spencer, I told you that you can stay as long as you need it, and I meant it."

Spencer sighed, exhaling. "I'm sorry for waking you up last night. And for ending up in your bed." He avoided his gaze, chewing on his lip. "I didn't sleep well alone in the guest room and I … you said I could come to you if anything was wrong, and you were asleep. I didn't want to be any more of an imposition, so I just laid down on the bed and fell asleep. It made the nightmares stay away, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again. I'll just… I'll learn to deal with the nightmares, I promise."

Derek sighed. "You do whatever you need to do to sleep at night. If that involves you not waking me and staying in my bed, so be it."

"Are you sure? If there's a problem, you can tell me. I won't be offended. I'm used to it, really."

He shook his head. "Until I say otherwise, it's not a problem."

Spencer sighed, nodding. "Thank you again, you know, for this. All these years on the team, and this is the first time I've actually felt, for lack of a better word, included. I just wish it were under better circumstances."

"That makes two of us, Pretty Boy."

Derek reached over, rubbing his arm reassuringly, letting him know that he was still there for him.

Derek turned in early that night, the day taking its emotional toll on him. He left his door open for Spencer, just in case he wanted to come in again and keep his nightmares away. He fell asleep, and no sooner did he hear Spencer tiptoeing his way in. He snuck under the blankets, curling into a ball, wrapping his injured wrist around himself. Derek smirked, opening an eye and shaking his head. He then reached over, running a hand through Spencer's hair. He had to admit that he preferred sharing a bed with Spencer to Clooney: he didn't hog the covers, take up a ton of space, or whine at the slightest movement. He also didn't snore, which was a huge plus. He continued the motion on Spencer's head until the smaller man peacefully dozed off. He wasn't sure how long the road to recovery would last for him, but knew that he couldn't go through this alone. He would gladly be the person to help him put the pieces back together.