Thank you for all the reviews and omg the PM's of hate I got about putting Reid in the hospital (runs scared) I won't make him crazy, he will be having some psychotic episodes perhaps but he's not crazy. So I hope that makes you all feel better ha ha

Anyways I hope you enjoy this chapter it was fun to write :D more soon

-CM-

Hotch sat in his apartment reading and re-reading the Reaper case file, as far as Boston PD was concerned the Reaper had died in the car wreck they'd discovered. Foyet's blood in the back seat and the Reaper mask confirmed their suspicions that the charred man was indeed the Boston Reaper, but Hotch wasn't so sure of that. How could a serial killer who had sat on his hands for ten years run into a lamp post? How could he not know his breaks were out? Aaron couldn't believe the case was over. The body of the man in the vehicle had been confirmed to be a man named Charles Wagner; he was in his early fifties and had been in jail already for soliciting a minor. The dates all seemed to match up, and the age was right, even his mug shot had looked like the police sketch made over a decade ago by Foyet's description… Hotch was just not convinced.

Something seemed off about the whole thing, Foyet was brutally killed and then dumped? That didn't fit the Reaper's M.O. or did Foyet escape? But there was so much blood in the little white house… it wouldn't have been possible for him to have survived… Aaron rubbed his temples. He was the only one now obsessing over the case still, everyone else had moved on from it. They had been more concerned with Reid, who had taken the news of George's murder very hard.

Garcia had called Hotch while he was still in Boston to tell him Spencer had been admitted to the psych ward of the hospital, he'd overdosed on Dilaudid and was in the doctor's opinions experiencing a complete and total nervous breakdown. Hotch had immediately sent Morgan and Prentiss home after they heard the news, their heads were no longer in the case so they hadn't been of much use. JJ had released a statement to the press telling about the death of the supposed Boston Reaper, and Rossi had stayed to help Hotch finish up the filing of the case. When the autopsy of Charles Wagner was complete no one had any qualms against the belief this man was the Reaper. It frustrated Hotch that there was nothing more explored to confirm whether dates matched one hundred percent or not. The small amount of information that linked up with previous Reaper case info was enough for Boston PD to say Wagner was indeed the killer they had sought.

A story was made up to put Boston PD in a better light and say Wagner was attempting to evade police when he crashed and the city was satiated by that. Rossi and JJ had agreed with Hotch at the time but a few days later neither of them were very understanding of Aaron's refusal to believe the Reaper had been killed… it just didn't fit.

-CM-

"Ugh." Reid groaned resting his head against the wall as he flushed the toilet; he'd been sitting up for hours being sick. The withdrawal from the dilaudid was hitting him hard, his skin was itching for a fix and he seemed to vomit whenever it got too intense for him to bear.

Morgan sat with his back against the door. Reid hadn't wanted him to see him like this, but Derek insisted upon being wherever Reid was so he sat outside the door with it open just a crack.

"Need anything kid?" Derek asked, Reid moaned again closing his eyes

"Just shoot me." He said with a painful chuckle, Morgan grinned

"It'll pass Reid." Spencer hiccupped and groaned as he did, he was at the point where he was dry heaving now. His throat burned and his chest felt like it was collapsing into itself… and he was making jokes. Reid sighed leaning his bare back against the cold bath tub, it felt good and the change in temperature seemed to calm his stomach. Derek cracked open the door slightly and moved his head back at the smell the came out of the room.

It was like hot oil and burning toast, he felt bad for his young friend. He wasn't feeling so great himself though; he hadn't slept a lot since he'd had Reid signed into his care. He'd called the hospital a few times just to ask what he could do; Garcia showed up a few hours after Reid had gotten very sick and helped Morgan out. She was currently asleep on Reid's pull out couch.

"Thank you." Reid croaked between parched lips, Derek turned his head at the words

"Forget about it." He said his elbows rested on his knees. His lower back was hurting and his backside was numb at this point.

"No I mean it." Reid said turning on his side to lie on the cool bathroom floor; his body was stippled with sweat.

"We've been on opposite ends for a while Morgan," Derek half smiled "And I feel responsible."

"You can't take all the blame." Morgan said with a turn of his head. Reid hummed

"I'm not… I blame you too." Derek laughed as did Reid before groaning again from the movement.

"What are you boys giggling about?" Morgan looked up at Garcia, she was wearing a bright pair of pink leopard print pajama pants and a big red shirt with a black heart in the middle, her hair was done up with a claw at the back and she was without her glasses.

"Nothin' baby girl go back to sleep." Derek said shooing her with his hand

"Nah." She said "Trade off, you scoot." Derek shrugged as she sat down on the floor and crossed her legs.

"If you say so." With that he got up, stretched and headed out to the living room, Penelope cracked open the door to the bathroom slightly, Reid was lying on his back next to the bath tub, he was wearing a pair of beige dress pants with the zipper undone, his boxers stuck out the top. He was only wearing one sock with silver sail boats on it and no shirt.

"Hello star shine." Garcia said, Reid looked at her upside down and gave a slight smile and a wave before closing his eyes again, shifting his shoulders from side to side on the hard floor.

Garcia scooted along the floor and made her way into the bathroom, the lights were off and the only light came from the hall light that had been on most of the night now. She closed the door slightly as she sat in front of the sink.

"You ok?" she asked, Reid didn't open his eyes as he slowly shook his head. Pushing his tongue out and back in-between his lips. Garcia moved a stray hair from Reid's eyes and he opened them to look up at her.

"Missing your friend?" she asked softly, Reid's bottom lip quivered he looked up at the ceiling clearing his throat and nodded slightly.

"Sorry." Garcia said holding her feet, legs still crossed. Reid nodded again

"He's not dead." He said nearly under his breath, Penelope leaned closer to Reid

"What makes you say that?" she asked, Reid looked over at her

"He was here… I saw him here." Garcia tried to smile as she moved another stray hair from Reid's eyes

"Oh sweetie you were so out of it when I saw you at the hospital…" Reid shook his head

"No this was before the hospital." Garcia sighed; she took hold of Reid's hand who looked up at her again.

"Reid I love you, don't do this to yourself." Spencer feigned a smile and looked away, his hand limp in hers. Of course she didn't believe him… he barely believed it himself, but he knew he had to be right, he knew George was there. He felt him, and he heard him, how could his mind make something like that up? And what about the vanilla bean in his pocket? Only he and George would understand that reference, from their first sort of date at the coffee shop… their vanilla tea. Reid shivered and Garcia pulled a towel off the rack and placed it on top of him.

"Try to get some sleep ok?" she said, Reid nodded turning his head to the side and closing his eyes. Garcia let Reid's hand go, as she crossed her arms and leaned her head back against the sink.

"Do you want me to stay?" she asked quietly, Reid shook his head

"No you can go." He said in a whisper, Garcia was thankful for that. Even though she wanted to be there for Reid, sitting on the floor in his tiny bathroom for an hour or two was not really appealing to her, besides she'd already been there since the afternoon of the previous day, it was now three in the morning of the following day and she was beyond tired.

Derek shifted as Garcia crawled onto the pull out next to him

"Move it chocolate thunder." She said poking Derek in the ribs, he chuckled and rolled onto his back, Garcia rested her head in the crook of his arm and sighed

"Goodnight baby girl." He said, she hummed as she cuddled into his arm. Derek smiled looking over the back of the couch to the light in the hallway; he sighed and closed his eyes. Reid sat up against his bath. He rolled his thumbs over each other as thoughts of George plagued his mind.

Was he going crazy? No! No he refused to believe that, he refused to believe George had been dropped off a bridge and bled out like an animal to the slaughter; he just couldn't believe it was true.

With that in his head he wondered now about the Reaper, who Derek told him had been killed in a supposed freak accident. If that were so and it had been confirmed then all of Reid's fear about George being the Reaper were false… which was a relief to him, now he just had to figure out how Foyet had escaped the Reaper, had he faked his own death? But if that were so how did his blood get in the Reaper's car? There were so many questions, and no simple answers. Reid sighed as he laid back down, feeling nauseous once again. Only time would tell whether or not he'd see George again, he hoped anyways.

-CM-

Foyet was indeed alive; he was sitting in a hotel at that very moment shaving his head in the bathroom. He ran his hand over his scalp as he finished. He looked at himself in the mirror studying his own face; he smirked as he walked out of the bathroom. Wincing as he sat down on the bed and lifted up his black t-shirt. He had two deep cuts in his side. He'd stabbed himself just deep enough to cause a lot of blood loss, but knowing enough about his own pain threshold and how much he could withstand to lose had been the easy part. It was the healing that was most painful. Foyet sighed, he thought about how he had "killed" himself, he'd been bloodletting for a while now and keeping the blood in jars in his basement. He'd used them in the little white house, splashing a large puddle onto the kitchen floor then walking through it continuously and moving it around with his hands, when he realised there wasn't enough blood he had cut into his side and smeared an eye on the back door, leaving hand prints on the back step and a trail out into a car he had stolen, he sat in the back seat letting himself bleed on the seat while he stitched himself up.

After he had bandaged himself he drove off, he had been stalking a man who was recently out of prison for soliciting a minor, he was near the right age and if George had done his homework right would fit perfectly in the role of the Reaper. After a blow to the head and a transfer of blood to a nearby bridge, he left the man partially conscience with no breaks driving away from him fearing for his life. Fortunately for George the idiot ran into a lamp post only a few miles up the road. He hadn't planned on killing the man, but it helped him out all the same, he had figured he'd crash at some point. Who was to really know the car would go up in flames that alone helped him even more so, now any evidence of Foyet other than the blood in the backseat would be gone. Foyet groaned as he removed the soiled dressing from his wounds, they had begun to bleed again; he would need to do some better stitching. He groaned opening the bed side drawer and pulling out a small bottle of Tapazole and another of Oxycontin, he downed a few pills before heading back to the bathroom.

Foyet looked at his wound in the mirror and grimaced; he sat on the edge of the bath tub and pulled at the end of the stitches slightly. Wincing as he did so, he took a needle from the sink counter and flicked on a lighter that had been lying next to it, as the end of the needle turned black he breathed deeply putting the lighter down, he turned looking down at his wound and pushed the hot needle through his scarred flesh, he groaned as he closed up bloody spots he hadn't been able to close in the back seat of the car. He'd re-sewn the wounds a few times, now he was getting worried he might get an infection. Foyet groaned as he continued to sew up the wound on his side. Finally he pulled the thread tight and bit off the end tying it in a knot. He took the lighter and burned the knot into his skin, brushing away dry blood as he finished with the lighter.

The room smelled like burned flesh and iron, Foyet ran his tongue over his teeth as he stood and looked at his handiwork in the mirror. He had two more stab wounds now to add to his list of self-inflicted scars. As he looked down at the wounds he noticed the faint scar on his wrist and he quickly looked away from it. It was his first scar… he'd made it with a broken bottle when he was only a child, Foyet cursed his mother under his breath, cursed her for never being strong enough to protect him from his drunken father, for not leaving the bastard or killing him herself. She had signed her own life away the first time she allowed her husband to take out his rage on George, and he had no love for her from that moment on. All he had done was bided his time waiting and planning their deaths… a strange thing for a child to do, unless of course that child was George…

Foyet sighed as he walked out of the bathroom and back into the main room, which had a large bed, old style television, some chairs, a bedside table and a mini fridge as well. He pulled out some gauze and rubbing alcohol wiping down his stitches and rewrapping the stab wounds. He sat down slowly and flicked on the TV, it had static playing through it and the sound wasn't great but he could follow what was happening, the news was still covering the Reaper case, talking about how citizens of Boston would rest easy now, there were candle light vigils and the like being organized and all other kinds of agonizingly moronic things to remember the victims. George groaned and flicked off the set, lying back on the bed. He sighed looking up at the ceiling fan that slowly spun above him, and he wondered if Spencer had recovered yet… and if he would see him again.