Chapter 11

Scum

It's weird...you know the end of something great is coming, but you want to hold on, just for one more second...just so it can hurt a little more: - Author Unknown

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

Spencer lay on the bed on his front. There was a bit of cloth tightly wrapped around his wrist. That was the only item of clothing he had on. He tried to remember what Floyd smelt like. He tried to remember what the texture of his hair was like. He was angry. If Floyd was still out there somewhere – if he was able to still monitor what he was doing, then why leave him to try to cope with all this alone?

Why had he like everyone else in his life abandoned him?

Because he was filth.

Because he didn't deserve friendship and love.

Because he was nothing.

He wanted to sleep, but he didn't. He spent the night slowly letting the smells from the big four poster bed seep into his skin. He needed help. Spencer was aware of that. Later. Yes later he would make an appointment and go to see his doctor. Maybe he can help. Suggest something. Give him something.

-o-o-o-

And so he sat in the doctor's office awaiting his turn. He had on a pair of dark grey trousers and a black long sleeved shirt. His name was called out and he got up to go and see if anything could be done.

"I can't sleep?"

"I can give you something to assist in getting you back into a regular sleeping pattern."

"I can't eat."

"Little and often Dr Reid but you must eat. Make sure you take supplements"

"I am in pain."

"I can give you something to help there too."

That was it. That was the help. No questions asked. He walked out with a script for sleeping pills, vitamins, and painkillers. Treat everything with a pill. Cover up the reason. Spencer had neglected to tell the doctor that he was cutting and burning himself. He didn't tell the doctor that he was having unprotected sex in the hopes of catching something. He didn't tell him about his refusal to wash or the voice he heard. Those things would get a different sort of pill and he knew a better place to get medication for that.

He placed the scrip on the pharmacy counter. The woman looked up at Spencer and then back down to the script.

"Do you have any ID on you?"

A shake of the head.

"I will be right back. Wait here please."

She called the doctor's office to see he could give her an ID on he person he had just written the script for. "Tall skinny junky. He needs a bath and hairwash."

The girl returned and handed over the medication to Spencer. "Have a nice day." She wished him.

He didn't reply.

Spencer took the supply home and sat on the couch looking at the contents of the bag. He had forgotten to get any milk. He had forgotten to get any food and so he had a glass of water and a lap full of pills.

He crunched on the painkillers and then on the vitamins and swallowed the water. He decided to save the sleeping pills for when he really needed them. He put his feet up on the couch and rested his head on a cushion and closed his eyes.

Spencer tried to think of good times he had with Floyd – but the good times are always over shadowed by the bad. As he slipped into a much needed sleep he could almost feel the spiteful hands around his throat and the smell of unwashed bodies on the hand clamped over his mouth. He almost wondered why he was so lost without it.

-o-o-o-

It was night time when he woke up. He sat up in the darkness and wiped at the sticky blood which had oozed from his nose as he slept. He needed to wash his face. He also needed to shave. Slowly he got up spilling the contents of his lap onto the floor and knocking over the glass of water and he walked to the bathroom.

There was dried blood on the floor and in the sink and over the mirror and walls. Floyd would go ballistic. But Floyd wasn't there so it didn't matter. He turned on the hot tap and watched the water turn pink as it washed away what Spencer had released from his arm the day before. Or was it today? He couldn't remember anymore. Days and nights all seemed to run into one thing. He washed the muck off his face and then picked up his electric razor. Floyd always wet shaved, but he wouldn't let Spencer and so he ran the razor over his chin and removed the few days fuzz which had grown there. The steam had now misted over the mirror. Floyd hated him doing this. He got even more made when he wrote in the mist. But Floyd wasn't here now. He wrote in mirror writing 'Where are you?' and then cleaned his teeth and left the room.

Still in the jeans and shirt and with his bag over his shoulder he went to find the house the lady who did the dusting lived in.

He pressed the doorbell and stood waiting.

"Oh hello Dr Reid." She said with a strange smile on her face.

"Hi – I erm – I wanted to ask if you would give my place a miss from now on. I will still pay you. Maybe you can collect up any rubbish blown in the garden? But I really don't need anyone in the house."

"I understand Dr Reid. I will make sure your front yard stays nice."

"Do you know someone who might cut the grass?"

"I will find someone for you Dr Reid."

"Let me know. I will pay the going rate."

"Yes I am sure you will. Thank you." He nodded and started to leave. "Dr Reid." He stopped and turned back again. "I know it is not my business but you know if you need someone to talk to."

"I will remember. Thank you – but I really have nothing to say."

She watched him turn and walk away. She remembered the day they had moved in. Him and his boyfriend. How happy they had seemed and how quickly everything went wrong. Drugs. It's always drugs with these young arty types – she watched his back and the way – though he was now a broken person –the way he walked. Something very seductive in that walk. She wondered if he was aware of it.

Spencer pulled the keys out of his pocket and got into the car.

He needed milk. Which meant going into the town and finding somewhere to park and then walking to the store. He had been told to eat too and so eggs wouldn't be a bad idea. Gideon always made him eggs. That was before he walked out of his life. Along with everything else. He pulled into a parking space and sighed. A trip to the store wasn't his idea of fun. Why did all these shoppers have such smiles on their faces? Some of them seemed too big for their faces. He sat in car and stared at the freak show for about half an hour and then got out walked down to the elevator. He pressed the 'down' button and stood with his hands in his pockets and waited for the doors to 'ping' open for him.

The shop was packed. The queues of people with baskets and trolleys snaked back through the shop. He wouldn't get milk here. There were too many people and they were all staring at the bit of filth standing looking around him. Every eye was concentrated on him and every word spoken was about him. The bile of panic was rising in his throat and the twisting sick feeling in his gut told him he was going to be sick.

Spencer made it to the men's room just in time. He knelt on the public bathroom floor and threw up water and bile into the toilet bowl. He then stood and walked to the urinals. A guy walked over and started to unzip to relieve himself in the one next to Reid. Spencer glanced over at him. He was sure he had seen him somewhere before. He tried to remember where it was. Maybe the club. Had he seen him at the club?

"I've seen you somewhere before." Spencer suddenly said.

"Oh? And where was that?" And the man smiled at Reid.

"At the club. I saw you in the backroom. I'm sure it was you."

Again the man smiled and Spencer made the fatal mistake of smiling back as he finished what he was doing.

He wasn't sure what was happening now. The guy had his hands on him, but not in the places he expected. He grabbed him and pushed him against the wall and was shouting something at him…Spencer panicked. He more than panicked – he completely freaked out as he felt the cuffs being slapped on his wrists and the shouting, but in his panic he couldn't hear what was being said. He kicked and he head butted and he tried to get away, but it didn't take much for Officer Arnold to get Reid to the floor and properly restrained.

"Are you resisting arrest?"

"I didn't – didn't do anything!"

-o-o-o-

He sat in the cell on the cold hard bench and avoided the looks from the other people around him. He kept his eyes firmly down looking at the small spot on the floor. Spencer was allowed to call someone. He thought seriously about this. Through the fuzzy greyness of him mind there were a very limited number of people he would be able to call.

Hotch: Who didn't seem to give a damn anymore. Except he had asked for help with Floyd – and so this was different.

Garcia: Who would want to do something and probably could, but it was putting too much on her.

Phil: He had offered to be a shoulder – someone to talk to, not someone to get him out of trouble for soliciting in the supermarket toilets.

With a sinking feeling of a total sell out he called Hotch.

"Hotch – I er – no." He listened. "No – it's not that. I've been arrested." A pause. "Soliciting." Listening. "No I wasn't and no I can't prove it. Please can you come down?" He listened again. "OK – yes I understand. Thank you." He hung up the phone. Hotch was on a case out of state. He advised Spencer got a lawyer."

Gradually the other people in the cell were called and released. Spencer sat and waited. He had asked them to get him a lawyer. They were 'working on it' for him. They didn't seem to be in any hurry.

They asked him if anyone would be missing him.

"No."

"Family?"

"No."

"Work?"

"I am unemployed."

"Friends?"

"No."

"There must be someone. A girlfriend? Sorry…boyfriend?"

"He's dead. There is no one who will miss me."

They looked at the sad guy in the cell and wondered how someone ended up with nothing.

The lawyer eventually came and Spencer was taken to an interview room.

He sat down behind the desk and wrung his hands in his lap.

"You know why you are here?"

"Yes – I was set up."

The lawyer looked over at Spencer. "Can I have a few words with him alone please?"

The police detective stood and nodded and then left the room.

Megwith the lawyer turned to Spencer. "You need to let me talk for you. That is why I am here."

"Well it's what happened."

"It doesn't matter what happened. Let me do the talking for you. This could mean prison. You are aware of that."

Reid turned to look at him. "I didn't do anything."

"You solicited."

"No I didn't."

"Are you on drugs?"

"What?"

"Well they seem to go together. Prostitution and drugs."

"I didn't do it."

"You engaged him in flirtatious talk whilst holding your penis. What would you call that?"

Spencer stood up. "It wasn't like that!"

"Let me do the talking. Do you take drugs?"

"You don't believe me. I will speak for myself."

"Whether I believe you or not has nothing to do with it Dr Reid."

"Well I think it does. Please leave. I don't need your help."

The lawyer stood up. "Have it your way Dr Reid. Have fun in prison."

Reid sat down again and put his head on the table wrapping his arms tightly around it. His head was pounding and his pain killers had been taken from him. He was taken back to the holding cell and given a sandwich.

"I need my pain killers." But they ignored the little pervert and went back to work.

He didn't eat the sandwich. He didn't sleep. He found that little spot on the floor again and tried to focus everything on it. The pounding in his head was joined by a spinning feeling and a light headedness that made him close his eyes as the room started to spin. He somehow managed to be on the floor with his arms curled around his head when a boot tapped him slightly.

"Get up. There is someone needs to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to anyone. Leave me alone."

"You don't have a choice. Get up." They dragged him up off the floor and half dragged the damp stinking druggy whore down the passage and back to the interview room. He kept his eyes closed. It was the only way to stop the spinning and the need to vomit. As they deposited him into the chair again his nose started the steady drip of blood onto the old wooden surface.

"Reid." Hotch's voice.

He wanted to look up at him but he knew if he opened his eyes he would die.

"I got here as soon as I could."

"Thank you."

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

"I don't know anymore." He rested his head on the table. "I just don't know. I can't think."

Hotch wanted to reach over and pull Spencer to him but this wasn't the time or place. He sat and looked at him for a while.

"Reid. I have arranged bail. I want you to come home with me for a while."

Spencer looked up.

"I'm not sure that is such a good idea. I have my own home Hotch."

"I'm aware of that, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to be on your own."

"I will be alright Hotch."

"Look around you Spencer. Take a good look and then tell me everything is alright. Picked up for soliciting in public restrooms."

Spencer shook his head and thought his skull had caved in… He put his hands to his head. "I didn't do it Hotch."

And now a hand reached over and touched him on the arm. "I know."

"You do?"

"You just said you didn't do it. I believe you."

"I still don't know if it's a good idea."

"It's one of the conditions of bail I'm afraid. You will come back to my place and I will take leave and keep you safe."

"I have my own life and I don't think – I don't know – Floyd – he – he won't like it."

Hotchner nodded. "I completely understand. But he is not here Spencer and I am. Until he comes and complains then I want you to stay with me. Nothing more than friends and someone to talk to. That's all."

-o-o-o-

He lay rotting and felt the ooze running from his eyes down the side of his face. His breathing was heavy and irregular. "babes." A whisper as he looked through his mind at the visions he was getting.

The degradation turned him on. The way he looked made him want to scream with happiness. He could only imagine the smell. It made what was left of his mind spin with delight.

He watched the way he cut and the he saw the sadness in his eyes. He watched the man he had broken and now it was too fucking late because all he could do was lay here and rot and watch when all he wanted to do was take him and screw him until he begged him to stop. Finally he had done his job. And now Aaron Fucking Hotchner was going to ruin it all. Was going to make him wash and prevent him whoring. It gave Floyd another reason to pull himself out of this mess and get back to Reid. But he couldn't. Spencer thought he was dead. He told people he was dead. Spencer had given up on him….but he would never give up on Spencer….so for now he was stuck here rotting and becoming one with the sodding forest and eventually he would stop existing. Well for a while anyway. Nothing is permanent. Ever…this was a temporary set back -

Until Spencer – until he was convinced he was still alive. Now all he had to do was convince the filthy bit of wonderful desirable scum.

In the end we are all separate: our stories, no matter how similar, come to a fork and diverge. We are drawn to each other because of our similarities, but it is our differences we must learn to respect