Ok I know I said last time that I would update quicker but I had midterms and finals and had zero time to update. I'm really sorry but now that my tests are done, I'll (hopefully) be updating more frequently. I'm going to continue to write about Reid's recovery, if you have any suggestions or anything you want in the story, please let me know, and tell me what you think!

…...

He could feel it. Hands all over his body, touching him. He tried to escape, but found himself trapped, rope tied around his wrists and ankles. A low voice murmurs, saying all the things he will do to him, and then laughs at the fear in his eyes. His clothes are coming off now, and the man above him is looking at him while he slowly pulls off each garment, his empty eyes sending shivers down his spine. When he reaches his boxers, he desperately tries to get away, struggling against the invading hands that are holding him down, pushing him down so he can barely breathe let alone fight. He begs him to stop, to leave him alone. His words are all he has left now, but even those are failing him as he feels his boxers being pulled down, and a pressure against him that he doesn't want to feel. He doesn't want it, he wants it still stop, for it to please stop. He doesn't listen though, and he is not ready for the pain, so much pain, and he is screaming for it to stop, fighting against it. But he is too strong, much stronger than him. It lasts forever, the pain only worsening, his screams dying down and his desperate struggles ceasing to exist. He is relieved when it is over, but it is short-lived, because there is another, new weight on top of him and he is screaming again.

Reid cried out as he woke up, sitting up straight in his bed, gasping for air. He rolls out of bed, groaning, before stumbling blindly to the bathroom, where he promptly throws up last nights dinner. He groans again and leans back against the tub, still reeling for his all-to realistic dream. Correction. Nightmare. But the fear and shock slowly ebb away, only to be replaced by anger and disgust. He should be getting better, his life should be improving. Instead he's having nightmares every night, waking up screaming and drenched in sweat. A part of him knows it's normal, to be scared, and to be having bad dreams, but another, larger part of him is yelling at himself to get it together and get over it. He should call Morgan, or JJ or anyone on the team, he should be talking to someone, but… he's trying to find an excuse as to why he hasn't, but deep down he knows he's scared of how they'll react, of what they'll say. The logical part of him knows they'll be understanding, kind, supportive, but an irrational voice whispers that they don't want to hear him, that they don't care, that they'll think he's overreacting. It's irrational, he knows, but it doesn't make it go away.

He sighs and gets up to go to the kitchen and make some coffee. As he waits for the machine, he thinks of the vial of dilaudid still in his sock drawer, hiding, tempting him, telling him it's ok to give up. But he won't do it, he won't go back to that, won't sink back to his lowest moments. But it's still tempting. The coffee machines beeps, breaking his train of thought. He pours himself a cup of coffee and opens the fridge, trying to figure out what to eat. But, the thought of eating makes him want to throw up again and he closes the fridge shut, telling himself he'll eat something later.

Later, when he's sitting on the couch watching a documentary on ocean life, his phone starts ringing from his bag. He digs it out before checking the caller ID. Morgan. He and Garcia had been calling him all day. He sighs, before pressing decline and turning back to the TV. Yet not even a minute later, Morgan is calling him again, and Reid groans in annoyance. He picks his phone up, knowing that he won't be able to avoid this, and answers the phone.

"Hey kid, it's Morgan"

"Yeah, I know. Ever heard of caller ID?" Reid knew that he was being rude, but he didn't really care at this point.

"Jeez, sorry to bother you man. Why aren't you answering my calls? Or Garcia's for that matter?"

"I've been busy."

"Oh yeah, doing what? Watching Star Trek with a cup of coffee in front of you?"

Reid couldn't help his smile. "Actually no, I'm watching a documentary on this rare shark that they found in the Indian Ocean, it's actually quite interesting…"

He was cut off by Morgan. "Alright kid, that's cool, just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I'll call you later." He hung up.

Reid rolled his eyes at how easy it was to get out of a conversation with Morgan. All he had to do was start talking and Morgan was gone. It didn't seem like Morgan really cared or wanted to talk to him, just wanted to reassure himself that he's doing "all he can to help his little brother".

That night, as Reid got ready for bed, he thought about his phone call with Morgan and knew that he would never listen to Reid. Although he knows Morgan is a good friend, who is well-meaning, he just doesn't think he could talk to him about the problems he's been having lately. It's just better to deal with it on his own, without involving anyone else involved and complicating things. He laid down in bed and flicked the lights off. The dark drew him in, trapping him, and threatening to swallow him whole. He tried to close his eyes but it was only worse. Flashes of hands touching him, hurting him, a voice whispering dirty, disgusting things, unimaginable pain, the sound of screaming and he is out of bed and in the bathroom throwing up again for the fifth time that week, the taste of bile on his tongue. He had dry heaved, there had been nothing to throw up, and now his throat was raw and itchy. He realized that he had consumed nothing but coffee the whole day. He sat up and made his way back to his room, flicking the light back in and sitting on his bed. That's when he started crying, tears pooling up in his eyes and streaming down his face endlessly, silently. It's too much to handle, he can't deal deal with the nightmares, and the pain. There's so much goddamn pain. He can't eat, he can't sleep, he can't breathe, the pain is suffocating him. He knows he's weak, that he's letting the pain overcome him, and he's to stubborn to ask for help, but he knows he won't make it. He doesn't have the strength, he's not strong and brave like Morgan said he was. He feels disgusting, dirty, he can't get the feel of their hands off of him, he can't function like this anymore. He stares at the drawer, he knows what's inside, and it's so close, a relief from the pain, an easy fix, a solution. It would be so simple, so easy, and he wouldn't have to feel anymore. He can almost imagine the drug coursing through his veins, numbing him from everything and everyone. No pain. Just pure bliss.

His tears are no longer silent, he is sobbing now because the vial is already in his hand now and the tourniquet is wrapped around his arm. He is weak, because he needs help and he knows it, yet his phone is in his other hand and he can't bring himself to pick either option. He thinks back to when he was on dilaudid, after Tobias and Georgia, and how he was so awful to his team. His team, who just wanted to help him and yet he pushed them away. He thinks of how JJ cried in his arms, telling him how she was sorry, how it should've been her. He thinks about Hotch hugging him on that dark, terrible night in Georgia in the graveyard, and how Morgan was there waiting for him in the hospital room when he woke up, with a box of cookies that Garcia had gone out and bought for him to eat when he woke up, even though the nurses would have yelled at her. And he knows it was never a choice, that he was building up to this moment and that he would eventually do it. So he picks it up, he has already resigned to do it.

"Spence? It's two o'clock in the morning, is everything okay?"

He says nothing; he can say nothing . All that he wants to say has vanished leaving him silent, the sound of his sobs the only thing left to hear.

"Spence, what's wrong? You're scaring me, are you okay?"

He is desperately scrabbling to find the right words, yet his throat has dried up and for once the man who always has something to say has no words.

"Spence, honey, it's JJ…please talk to me." In the background he can hear someone mumbling something, a question, presumably Will.

He try's to clear his throat, licks his lips to combat the dryness. "I-" his voice cracks.

"I need help. Please. I-" his voice cracks again and his sobs prevent him from continuing.

"I'm coming over. Please stay there. Don't do anything Spence, I'll be right there."

…..

He does as he's told, the phone still pressed up on his ear, the syringe filled with heroin still in his hand, sitting on his bed, the sheets all ruffled and messed up. When she gets to his apartment, JJ uses her spare key that Reid has given her years ago, and finds him like this, his eyes red and puffy and tear tracks on his face.

"Oh, Spence," she says before slowly setting the syringe off to the side with the phone and pulling him into her arms, rocking him gently as he sobs. His pain fills her with sadness, the sound of his sobs are agonizing. When he stops crying and pulls away, she looks in his eyes and sees that the are filled with suffering and fear, yet she knows there is still strength there. The strength it took to not take the easy way out, to call her and ask for help instead of shooting up with temporary relief. The strength it takes to survive and get through every day after all that has happened to him. She marvels at his strength; it's something she does not possess. She takes in his disheveled appearance and how thin he is, and takes him to the bathroom, ordering him to shower as she goes to the kitchen to make him something to eat. When he is out of the shower, and in clean clothes she makes him sit down and eat, and while he does, she picks up all his books and papers and coffee cups lying around on the floor and on tables, attempting to clean it up a bit. When he is done, she tells him to try and get some sleep. He shakes his head.

"JJ I can't sleep…" he paused, trying to find the right words. She doesn't press him, she knows he needs time.

"Every… Every-time I close my eyes I feel…" he shivers with disgust. "their hands, on me, and I relive everything they did. It hurts to much, JJ, I can't do it."

"It's ok, Spence. It's ok to feel like that. I promise you, it will get better. You are so much stronger than you realize, and I wish you could see what I see when I look at you. If- if you don't, can't sleep, can I- maybe I can read to you."

Reid looks down for a moment, and she's not sure if he'll answer, but after a moment he shakes his head yes. She smiles at him and takes his hand, walking together to the living room. He lays down on the couch and hands her a book to read.

"For a long time, I used to go to bed early. Sometimes, when I had put out my candle, my eyes would close so quickly that I had not even time to say to myself, 'I'm falling asleep.'" When JJ looks up, she sees Spencer sleeping peacefully, his dreams unplagued by darkness, his breathing deep and even. She smiles and her her heart fills with hope.

…...

There it is! Ahhhh, I hope that wasn't too bad. I know this wasn't how this story has typically been going but I read the last chapter before this and thought it was really bad:\. I'm not going to delete it, but I'm not really happy with it. Anyways thanks for sticking with me, and please please please let me know what you think!