The hallucinations were all too real. Spencer watched a black, shiny blob that was constantly changing shape.
"What do you want?" He asked, terrified. A stick-like arm began reaching toward him, growing fingers shaped like talons. The voices were screaming non-stop. He shook like a leaf. The talons stopped right near his face and he tried to put as much distance between it and his face as possible. It grew longer and scraped against his cheek moving down toward his chin. He could feel tears leaking from his eyes. There was a deep, maniacal laugh coming from the black thing. The talons dug into his arm, and he shrieked in pain. He moved to examine his arm, and saw blood forming. He put his fingers on the wound and pulled it away to see deep red. He looked at it with morbid fascination. He looked back up and saw the black blob had vanished into thin air. He felt panic taking over his body, and started to hyperventilate.
Diana ran back to the room when she heard the scream. She returned to see her son clutching his arm and crying. She bolted over to him and squeezed his hand twice. He started the process of calming down. Diana waited until he was calmer before she asked "What happened?".
"There was a black thing with talons that scratched my face and dug into my arm."
Diana thought her guilt would consume her whole. "Where did it hurt you?"
Spencer pointed to a spot on his arm. "Let me fix that."
She took one of her sweaters from the closet and wrapped it around his arm and applied pressure. Her son immediately calmed down. "Do you want to take a drink?"
He nodded. Diana helped him up and sat on the bed to set her baby in her lap to feed him.
The team had watched Reid's horrifying encounter with the blob, and felt a new sense of guilt. Watching him in his mother's arms underlined his youth and his desperate need to be cared for. Seeing him suck on a bottle was strange and confusing, but it was natural too, in a way.
As Spencer drank his water, he felt calm and serene in his mother's embrace. It wasn't real, and he needed to know that. He felt comfortable and loved. Suddenly, he picked up on a small change in his Mother. He took her hand and squeezed it twice. She squeezed back once, and he shot up in her arms.
Even though he was sick as a dog, he leaned against the wall and walked out the door, still unable to see, and made it to a nurses desk.
"My Mom is having an episode."
The pretty young nurse paged a doctor, and escorted Spencer to a different room so that he could rest. She helped him to his bed. He thanked her, and laid down. His emotions were running wild. He tried to tamp them down, but they wouldn't stop.
He moved to a sit at the side of the bed. The team, who had followed Spencer to his room, had never seen such a heartbroken expression cross his face before. He couldn't hold it in any longer, and buried his face in his hands and started to sob.
Hotch's arm brushed against the door, and it banged against the wall. Spencer's head snapped up.
"Who's there?" There was silence. "Come out!"
They all shared a look. Did they dare reveal themselves? Hotch nodded.
"It's just us."
His shoulders slumped, but his worry persisted.
"What are you guys doing here?"
"We came to see how you were doing."
"Oh. Thanks..." He still felt confused.
They all filed into the room and gathered around him.
"We're here because we care." The sentence made Spencer smile.
"Thank you." He didn't know what else to say.
"That's what friends are for." Said Garcia.
They were there for each other through the worst of times, and from that, Spencer derived incredible comfort. He felt that although his world was crumbling before him, his friends were always there for him.