(Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters)

I have my final exam tomorrow! And it's nothing I need to revise for so I'm back!

Sorry for the delay, I have been dying, three weeks of exams can do that to ya. But it feels so good to have all the important ones done.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Thank you ahowell1993, Astrahan, fishtrek, Ludub, Ash59, AZCatmom, Juna Izumi, Sarry22, UnleashYourInnerAssButt, spxxxxx, Kas3y, Sammie050301, Piratekingz, and Rookblonkorules.

Please keep reviewing, it really helps me to update.

This chapter may seem shorter but it is coming after the climax so...yea.

Warning, there is mention of sexual assault... but it's like a tiny little mention, nothing explicit, I promise.

Anyway, enjoy!

Previously:

Daniel shook his head. "Dad lied. He's alive mom, he's alive!"

Diana opened her mouth to speak but found no words as she looked at her 'dead' child.

"He's... he's alive!" She repeated in a hopeful voice. Unbeknown to them, thirty-six miles away Aaron Hotchner was timing chest compressions.

"C'mon, Spencer," Aaron huffed as he pressed on Spencer's chest over and over. He paused and tested for a pulse before grimacing and leaning over the young man to breathe air into him.

He went back to chest compressions.

"Keep going," Morgan hissed.

"I am!"

"Focus on keeping pressure on the wound," Rossi ordered, and Morgan pressed his jacket firmly to Spencer's abdomen. The young man's eyelids didn't flutter once, he showed no sign of waking.

"Come on, kiddo."

"Anything?" Emily breathed. Hotch responded by pounding his palms down over Spencer's heart.

Medics rushed in around them and Hotch felt himself being pulled away.

"No, wait-"

"Sir, we need to tend to him," an EMT insisted.

"No pulse."

"Start chest compressions-"

"-Intubate him-"

"-25ml Of-"

"No narcotics," Morgan yelled suddenly. The EMT frowned but exchanged the morphine for another syringe.

The team watched on helplessly as the EMTs worked quickly. Rossi's eyes drifted to the stains in the barn. He glowered at the broken chair with straps dangling from the arms and legs. He shuddered to think what Spencer had gone through here.

Dave was suddenly pulled from his thoughts when an EMT announced:

"I've got a pulse!"

March 10th 1989

"Uncle Dave?"

Rossi jumped up from the case file he was reading and looked at the seven-year-old before him, a thick book tucked under his little arm. "Yea, Kiddo?"

"Um... have you ever... um... shot someone?" The boy asked shyly. Rossi scowled faintly and raised an eyebrow at Spencer.

"Why?"

Spencer swallowed thickly and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I was just... just wondering."

"I'm not sure your old enough to know those things."

"Jason said that you don't need a gun to kill someone," Spencer mumbled and Rossi grinned. He patted the seat on the couch next to him and Spencer clambered up.

"I don't get it," Spencer added. Rossi turned to him with a soft chuckle.

"Not many people do."

"Then how do you kill people?"

"Jason says that our greatest weapon is a thorough and accurate profile. And he's right."

"Oh," Spencer nodded in understanding. "He talking metaphorically."

Rossi laughed. "I guess so."

"So... um," Spencer bit his lip and averted his eyes from Rossi. "If I wanted to be a profiler then um... I wouldn't have to kill people?"

"Is that what you want to be?" Rossi asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm keeping my options open right now."

"Just remember you're still a kid."

"I will."

"And Spencer," Rossi added.

"Yea?"

"You don't have to carry a gun to be a profiler. And you don't ever have to use it if you did have one."

"Really?" Spencer whispered. "People won't think I'm weak?"

Rossi put a hand on Spencer's shoulder and made him look into his eyes.

"You will never be weak."

George Kirwin leaped up from the waiting area in the hospital when he heard a team of EMT's rush through the doors. He saw chestnut curls on the gurney and found himself stumbling towards them. Dave was chasing after the trolley, his hand slipping from Spencer's as the medics hurried through shouting words to the onslaught of doctors that had been waiting.

"Spencer!" George yelled as he caught up and looked down at his son's face which was coloured with bruises and dried blood. He touched Spencer's still hand and his breath caught at the chill radiating from the thin fingers.

"Stand back, Sir," one of the doctors grunted as he checked through a board, ticking certain boxes as the EMTs explained Spencer's condition. George stared at his only child and felt the corners of his eyes burn. There was a thick tube stuffed down Spencer's throat with a bag on the end that one stern looking EMT was squeezing rhythmically.

"Possible concussion. Contusions to the right side."

"Age?"

"26," George breathed as they neared doors that read 'theatre.' "I'm his father. His name is Spencer Kirwin. His blood type is O-negative, he has a severe reaction to beta-lactam antibiotics.. i-it's on his record. Find his record," he insisted and suddenly he was being pushed back by a nurse.

"Sir, you can't go any further."

"He's my son!"

"I understand, Sir, but the doctors need to get him into surgery and you'll hinder their process."

"B-but-"

"The family room is down the hall, I'll have someone show you," she said and she looked at Rossi who was covered in Spencer's blood. "The bathrooms around that corner second door on the left," she added before hurrying after the gurney which had disappeared into another room. George pressed himself to the door and stared through the glass, they stayed like that for several minutes. Rossi stepped forward and after wiping his bloody hand on his dark pants he placed it gently on George's shoulder. The older man shrugged it off quickly and took a sharp step back to stare at Rossi.

"Well done, David," he hissed bitterly.

"Excuse me?"

Suddenly, a stampede of footsteps echoed down the hall and they glanced around to see the team thundering over, still in their Kevlar vests.

"Dave, is he alright, did they make it here?" Aaron asked breathlessly and Dave stared at him for a moment, just enough time for the unit chief to slip his stony mask back in place.

"It... he... khm, they had to restart his heart again, but it wasn't for as long."

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose trying to keep the emotion inside. He recalled pressing against Spencer's chest, feeling a rib snap under his ministrations.

"He what!?" George snarled.

"His heart stopped, he-"

"Family of Spencer Kirwin?" Dave was cut off by a small male nurse with a clipboard between his fragile hands. He smiled shyly. "I'm here to take you to the family room to wait. Um... are they family?" He motioned to the team who nodded.

"No," George deadpanned.

"George-"

"Back off, Rossi."

"Is there a problem?" The nurse asked, his eyes looking almost fearful. George shook his head and glowered at the agents.

"I'm his father. I'm all the family he needs."

"We're just as much his family as you are," JJ argued but she shut her mouth when George sent her a cold glare.

"Family? Family wouldn't fail him as badly as you have. Twice now. You're not his family."

"We haven't failed him," JJ whispered, but doubt heavily clouded her words.

"And you," George turned to Dave. "You were supposed to protect him! Just like Jason promised! But he failed. Just. Like. You."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dave growled.

"If you looked out for him he wouldn't be here!" Kirwin bellowed and the male nurse took a step back.

"And maybe if you hadn't of been drunk Spencer would never have been in this mess," Rossi growled back.

Hotch lurched forward when he saw George's arm swing but it was too late. The fist made contact and Rossi staggered backward.

"Christ-" he muttered, pressing a hand to his face.

"Get out!"

"Mr. Kirwin we can't leave Spen-"

"I said get out!" George bellowed, his finger pointing sharply towards the door the knuckle of which was growing red.

"Gladly," Rossi spat, holding his nose as he backed away.

"We can't go," Garcia gasped, looking from Hotch to Dave to the door. Rossi shrugged and looked down at his fingers which were still stained with blood.

"We'll come back. Just let him have his moment."

"Fuck you, David."

"Come on," Rossi grunted, wiping his nose which had stopped bleeding. He pushed the door open and motioned for his team to leave. Rossi glared back at George who stood seething, his fists clenched at his sides. "Just remember that this isn't about you."

Hotch stepped out and headed for the entrance, his team following like lost puppies. He pulled his phone out and dialed a number.

"We're not seriously leaving... are we?" JJ muttered, glancing back at the glass doors.

"Where's Dave?" Hotch asked, phone pressed to his ear and eyebrows furrowed.

"Clean up his face," Morgan put in, pointing to the restrooms and Hotch nodded before clearing his throat.

"Mr. Reid?"

The team fell silent and listened in.

"Yes, you may want to come down to the general hospital. MountainView. We found him. Yes." Hotch paused for a moment and kissed his teeth. "No, he's not. It's bad right now. He was resuscitated at the scene and we haven't heard anything sin-" Hotch breathed in sharply. "I don't think you should... no, he'll pull through, I'm sure of it."

Hotch frowned and pulled the phone from his ear before hanging up. "The Reid's are coming. Daniel told their mother."

"Poor lady," Garcia muttered and JJ's brow furrowed.

"Penelope, she did set the fire which could have killed Spence."

"But she didn't. She believed she did... imagine that," breathed Garcia, a spaced-out look falling across her face. Rossi stepped out into the night air, his nose a painful red, small tentacles of purple already trickling out over the skin around it.

"You okay, man?" Morgan asked, putting a hand on Rossi's shoulder. The Italian nodded gravely.

"What was he talking about?" He asked quietly.

"Pardon?"

"George. What was he talking about?" Rossi raised his eyes slowly to look at Hotch. "He said that you let Spencer down before... what was he talking about?"

JJ swallowed thickly and averted her eyes. Hotch stared back at Rossi, his expression not giving anything away.

"Well?"

"Do you recall my mentioning of the Georgia case? I spoke about it a few months after you started," Hotch said, his gaze focused on Rossi.

Rossi nodded. "You only told me Spencer was implicated."

"It was my fault he was even there," JJ muttered bitterly, keeping her eyes low, watching a piece of gravel intently.

"What happened?" Rossi questioned.

"Spencer was kidnapped by the unsub..."

"What else? George knows the complications this job brings, he'd understand that such situations can't be helped. He wouldn't blame you. What else?" Rossi demanded, his teeth gritted so tightly that sparks of pain shot up his busted nose. Morgan stiffened and took a deep breath, deciding to help his boss out.

"The unsub gave him drugs."

Rossi's lips pinched into a thin line. "And?" He whispered.

"And... khm... Spencer got addicted."

March 14th, 2007

George Kirwin was shuffling paper to put in the printer for his new article on the effects of sunlight on butterfly wings when he heard a pounding at his door. He frowned, settling the paper in the printing tray. Angela wasn't meant to be home for days from her spa trip, and besides, she had a key. He carefully set his glasses down and stood up. The hammering on the door erupted again and Kirwin hastened to the entrance hall.

"Keep going like that and you'll be buying me a new door," he grumbled loudly and he was met with another onslaught of pounds. "Alright, alright."

He grabbed the handle, unlocked the door and opened it. He froze.

"D-Dad," Spencer whimpered.

"Spencer," Kirwin said as he took in his son's disheveled appearance. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced, his cheeks hollow and his eyes eerily bloodshot. His clothing was ruffled and dirty.

"I-I..." Spencer swallowed thickly and fell through the doorway and into his father's arms. "I'm st-struggling," he gasped.

"Spencer, what have you done?" Kirwin asked, a frown creasing over his brow as he held up the trembling young man.

"I didn't want it, I didn't, I-I swear. But-but it's... its- I need it," Spencer explained in a disjointed voice that quivered on each word. George pulled him inside and shut the door.

"Didn't want what? Spencer, what have you done!?"

Spencer looked down and bit his lip as a sob burst from his throat. Kirwin scowled and followed Spencer's eyes to his arm. The sleeve was rolled up and George saw too plainly the disturbing track marks on his son's pale skin.

"What have you done?" Kirwin hissed and Spencer sobbed harder, trying to hide his arms. He rubbed the sleeves, trying to unravel them, but he seemed unable to curl his fingers and his skin grew red from his attempts. Kirwin grabbed his right arm and yanked the sleeves up painfully, holding the pale skin under the light, causing Spencer to cry out in shame. "You stupid, boy!" Kirwin snapped and he grabbed Spencer by the scruff of his neck and shoved him through to the kitchen.

"I-I'm Sorry! I'm so-so sorry, Dad. I n-need your help," Spencer pleaded and he collapsed to his knees on the chipped kitchen tiles. George grabbed Spencer's messenger bag and pulled it roughly over his head, Spencer didn't even try to stop him, he covered his face and sobbed.

George tore the bag open and peered inside. He flipped the bag and let the contents spill onto the floor, nothing out the ordinary fell out until he gave it another shake and a small vial fell out onto Spencer's scarf and the young man howled in shame.

"Stupid idiot!" George growled as he grabbed the vial and Spencer continued to cry pitifully. George reached his hand into the bag and found a hidden pocket and he felt his anger swell when his fingers grazed another cold vial. He pulled it out along with a needle. He glowered at Spencer, wanting nothing more than to slap him.

Kirwin rummaged through the books pens and files on the floor to make sure there was no more and Spencer leaned forward to help clean up the mess, but Kirwin shoved him back. "Don't you dare."

"I-I'm sorr-sorry!"

"How could you be so stupid?" George whispered and Spencer sobbed loudly.

Kirwin marched to the sink while Spencer trying to pull himself off his knees. George punctured the lid of one of the small pristine bottles with a knife and poured its contents down the sink.

"NO," Spencer screamed and he rushed to his father's side and attempted to wrestle the other bottle from his hands. Kirwin shoved him away as he stabbed the next bottle.

"You're a junkie!" George bellowed as he emptied the second bottle. Spencer pushed him out of the way and ran his hands futilely over the sink trying to salvage the spilled liquid. "Look at yourself! Pitiful!"

Kirwin watched his son in disdain.

"I n-need it!"

"No, you don't! What if your mother was here, Spencer? "

Spencer stopped and let his hands fall from the sink, his whole body slumping forwards as he imagined his mothers kindly face twisting in disgust.

"She's not," he mumbled.

"She could have been! How do you think she'd react?!" Kirwin yelled and Spencer covered his face and wailed quietly as he slid down the cabinets. "Pathetic," his father spat, smacking his hand against Spencer's head.

"I'm sorry! Please, help me, please," Spencer begged. Kirwin growled and lifted his son up by the front of his shirt.

"Why should I help you? You got yourself into this mess, you can damn well get yourself out," he snarled, pushing Spencer up against the wall. He didn't realise his son was trembling badly, frankly, he didn't care.

"It wasn't m-my fault!" Spencer cried and Kirwin shoved him again.

"Then whose was it, huh? Whose fault is this, because from where I'm looking, you shot yourself up with drugs? You! No-one else, you did this," Kirwin snapped, punctuating his words by jabbing Spencer harshly with an accusing finger and Spencer covered his face and sobbed.

"H-he made me. I said no, I did, Dad, I promise I did. I begged him not to but h-he gave me them. I said no!" Spencer shouted and he stopped fighting and slid down the wall, his breaths coming out in short, startling bursts. Kirwin stopped yelling and looked down at Spencer. "H-he said it would make it better. B-between the t-torture," Spencer added quietly.

"Spencer," George said softly and he knelt in front of Spencer. "Who did this?"

"Tobias," Spencer whispered, his eyes staring blankly at a place on the wall. "I-I didn't w-want it. I d-don't want it. I d-don't, I don't..."

William slipped his phone back in his pocket and looked up to see his family watching him.

"They found him," he said quietly and Margo jumped off the bed.

"Is he Okay? We have to go, we have to go now!"

"Agent Hotchner didn't mention his condition."

Diana scowled. "Agent Hotchner? What are you talking about?"

Daniel took his mother's hand a pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "It's a long story," he breathed. "But something happened to Spencer. That's the only reason we found out he was alive. He was missing, but they found him, mom."

"He's... he's in this state?" Diana asked and her children nodded.

"We have to go see him," Margo added, pecking her mother's cheek. "We'll come back and tell you how he is."

"Wait. Take me with you."

William shook his head instantly. "No, you're not meant to leave."

"I don't care, William. You took him away from me once, I will not let you take him again, now take me with you."

Hotch glanced at his phone, waiting for a call from Kirwin. The team had left the hospital to wrap up the case, reluctant as they may have been, they couldn't stand outside the hospital and wait.

Hotch, Morgan, and Emily were stood on the other side of the glass of the interrogation room, looking in at Tony Walker.

"I'm goin' in," Morgan grunted, but Hotch grabbed his arm and gave him a stern look. Morgan looked back with no emotion on his face.

"Not alone," Hotch said and Morgan nodded. "And don't touch him."

"I'm not prom-"

"I mean it. We don't need charges against you."

Morgan just shrugged him off and pushed open the door.

Tony sat up straighter until his eyes met Morgan's and he slumped back down, shifting uncomfortable, an ice pack pressed against his crotch.

"You're going to pay for what you did," Tony hissed, his fingers flexing over the ice pack.

Morgan stood behind the chairs and just stared at Tony as Hotch sat down.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Morgan asked.

"Through him."

Morgan lurched forward and slammed his hand on the table. "You'll never get near him again!" He spat, his eyes ablaze.

"Morgan-"

Morgan tore himself away from the table and turned his back as he tried to control his breathing.

"You're not getting out again," Hotch muttered, pushing a file in front of Tony and opening it; pictures of Alison and Zachary's dead bodies slipped out into view. Tony's gaze didn't shift from Morgan.

"What do you want? An explanation? A reason for why I did it?" Tony inquired, his eyebrows raising inquisitively.

"You won't be able to tell us anything we don't already know."

Tony bared his teeth as his lip twitched. He glowered at Morgan. "Then why are you here?"

"Making sure you're put where you belong," Morgan muttered.

"You think you won?!" Tony shouted and when Morgan turned back with a look that could congeal blood Tony threw his head back and laughed. Hotch felt his fists clench under the table and he knew Emily's were doing the same on the other side of the glass.

"You can't hurt them anymore," Morgan hissed.

"Can't I?" Tony sneered. He leaned forward, his handcuffs rattling against the table before he whispered in a sickly voice. "Do you know what I did?"

"We know what you are and what you did. You raped children. You beat them to get yourself off," Hotch deadpanned and he could hear Morgan growl like a wild animal. "Then you waited until they matured and tried again. Were they better? Or is that why you killed Alison and Zachary? Because you preferred children?"

"You don't have to dumb it down for me. I know what I did... physically. Very physical in fact," Tony muttered with a horrible smirk. "Do you understand what that does to a person emotionally? He'll have me on his mind for the rest of his life. He'll never forget me with that big brain of his. Every time he closes his eyes I'll be there. When he sees a belt; I'll be there. He'll never see a hammer the same again. And every time someone touches him, he'll feel my hands all over him," Tony licked his lips amorously. "You should have let him die."

"Son of a bitch," Morgan spat, and Hotch put a hand up to keep his agent back.

"You failed. They will survive this. We may not have won, but neither did you," Hotch said. Tony grinned and took a deep breath.

"You'll see."

Holly stumbled through her front door, pushing it shut quickly and pressing her back to it. Two of her cats stared at her from the kitchen counter where they had been nibbling on stale cookies. Her third cat strutted around by her feet and weaved in between her legs.

Holly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You need to move on," she whispered to herself. She took a step forward almost tripping over the long ginger tail tangled around her feet. It was her fault, she had sent the child to the Walkers, why hadn't she stopped it?

"No... come on, you have to forget it," she hissed. She got to the couch and clung to the moth-bitten blanket hung on the back. "You have to let him go..." she trailed off when her eyes landed on the scattered pictures of Spencer on her coffee table. I did this, she thought bitterly.

A chiming sound made Holly jump and pull the blanket off the couch. She stared around and then realise the sound had come from her pocket. She reached around and pulled out her flip-up phone.

There was a new message from an unknown contact. She clicked open slowly as she sank onto the floor to read it.

He's alive. MountainView hospital- DR

Holly was already pulling her coat back on and hurrying out the door, ignoring the grumpy mewing of her hungry cats.

Sorry, there wasn't much Spencer in that chapter. He's coming I promise.

Please review.

See you soon.