A/N: Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story. *crickets chirping*

Okay… right. Well, I'm a bit nervous because we're getting near the climax of the story. I hope you enjoy!

To say that it had been a hard case would be an understatement. There were no words for what they'd seen. A comforting pat on the shoulder from Rossi felt like shards of glass being driven into Reid's flesh- glass as broken as the eleven decaying bodies heaped together in a mass grave.

Everything hurt. Not physically- his body hadn't been hurt this time- but his heart, his mind, his very soul ached. He knew that they couldn't save them all, but this time, they had saved no one. The list of victims would continue to grow. The crime scene photos of dismembered forms would become fodder for some other BAU team's nightmares.

They were done.

In every sense of the word, they were done.

No one slept on the flight back. No one read, though Hotch and Reid both feigned the act. No one called Morgan on the fact that the headphones placed over his ears were purely for show. There was no music that he would risk later associating with this day.

The inside of Reid's left arm itched, and he put down the book and tried to claw at the ants in his veins as discreetly as possible. He wasn't discreet enough. A look across the jet- no smiles or nods- just a meeting of gazes held for long enough to know that there was something to be read. They looked away at virtually the same time, both continuing the charade of a typical case ending.

They were the last to deplane. Derek continued to stare out the window, proving that the scenic view wasn't what had kept his attention for the past three hours. Spencer sat just as silently on the other side of the jet, but it may as well have been a continent away for the solitude that he felt.

"Spencer," Derek spoke, puffs of warm breath ghosting his reflection in the window, "I don't think you should be alone tonight. I don't think any of us should."

Spencer clenched his eyes shut. The images kept coming. "I'm fine, Derek. Or as fine as anyone else. Go home. Do what you need to do, and don't worry about me."

None of them could tolerate company on these nights. None of them were in any shape to give support to another living being. Hotch and JJ would go home and watch their children sleep. Rossi would have a few drinks and contemplate a second retirement. Prentiss would give in to that twice a year desire to hear her mother's voice. Derek would take a sledgehammer to another wall, pouring all of his built-up anger and grief into destroying something that couldn't bleed. And Reid…

Reid would turn on every light in his apartment and try not to let the darkness spill over into the words that he wrote. There was no need to be cautious about that anymore. There would be no more juggling of adjectives and adverbs in an attempt to shelter someone he loved from the realities of his existence. There would be no more letters.

Now wasn't the time to think about that. Right now, Spencer's only concern had to be for the man who had done nothing but take care of him for the past five months. He wished that he could do more, but the best thing that he could do for Derek tonight was to release him from his self-imposed responsibility. He gathered his things calmly, shoving down the overwhelming urge to curl up in one of the seats and wait for the chill of the early October air to seep into the cabin and numb him from the outside in. "I'll be fine- we all will. We always are."

Derek released something that sounded like a laugh, but there was no humor in the brittle noise.

"Like Gideon? Like Elle? Or Ryan? Or Rossi the first time around? We're never fine, Spencer. We just keep goin' until…" he trailed off, letting the hand that had punctuated each question fall back to his lap. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be layin' this on you. It's not like you don't know."

Spencer set down his bags and settled into the seat next to Derek. He took the hand nearest his and laced their fingers together. Even with that minimal contact, he could feel the tension that ran through Morgan's body. He gave the hand a gentle squeeze and wasn't at all surprised when the gesture wasn't returned. This was why Derek needed to be alone tonight. He wouldn't trust himself not to crush Spencer's hand at the moment. He couldn't trust himself to be the man that he tried to be every day of his life. There was no sense of balance left. There were only extremes.

"I know," Spencer agreed softly. "I know that we all have different ways of coping. I know that you're doing your best to deny that so that you can be there for me." He took a deep breath and soldiered on. "I know that if I go home with you tonight, you'll completely shut down. You won't allow yourself to feel anything because you're afraid that everything will come out."

"You know a lot." The half-hearted joke did little to ease the tension.

"So I've been told." He gave the hand one more firm squeeze, brushed his lips across Derek's cheek, and stood. "Come on. You can give me a ride home."

}cm{

"Are you happy here, Spencer?"

"Mom, what are you doing out here?"

"Lo, the summer is dead, the sun is faded,

Even like as a leaf the year is withered,

All the fruits of the day from all her branches

Gathered, neither is any left to gather."

"Algernon Charles Swinburne."

"It's beautiful here. I haven't seen a proper autumn since I was a kid." She fixed discerning blue eyes on Spencer. "Are you happy here, Spencer?"

"Mom, I- Yes. I think so."

"Sit." She waited for him to sit beside her on the bench. "What's bothering you, baby? Don't even think of lying to me. It's the one thing I have no hope of you ever accomplishing."

"'A mother always knows.'," he sighed.

"So, then you know that I won't drop the subject until you tell me what's on your mind."

They sat watching the scenery for a few silent moments.

"It's harder than I thought it would be," he admitted.

"It usually is."

"I just keep thinking, 'If we'd only gotten the case sooner. If we'd spent less time following a false lead. If I'd only…"

"Oh, honey… Spencer, look at me. You could have been anything in the world, but you chose this. Or do you regret all the lives that you've helped save."

"No, of course not," he started.

"It's not an equation that you can balance. If you saved a hundred lives, you would still feel the loss of one. It's who you are, baby. If you're going to continue to do this job, you have to accept that."

Spencer thought over her words. "What if I can't? What if- Mom?"

"Shh." She held up a hand and looked toward the woods that bordered the park. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what? Mom, where are you going?"

"Spencer, you have to hear that." Her brisk walk became a jog and then a full out run.

"Mom!" Spencer called, hurrying to catch up with her. She answered without slowing or looking back. "They're in there, Spencer; they're all in there!" She breached the border of trees and disappeared into the woods.

"Mom, stop! Whatever you're hearing, it's not real!"

"Mom?" Spencer whispered. The dark of the forest was unsettling. He could see the bright afternoon sunlight filtering in through the trees behind him, but he couldn't turn back. "Mom, please; it's not real!"

"My poor baby." Her voice seemed to come from every direction. "They are real- all of them, my angel. All of your mistakes."

Spencer took one step toward where he guessed she would be and halted at the sickening crunch. He looked down at what he hoped would be a twig, and the broken fingers of a skeletal hand lay crushed beneath his shoe. He leapt away, eyes now on the forest floor.

"All of your failures," Diana's voice echoed sadly.

A gust of wind disturbed the bright autumn leaves that blanketed the ground. Spencer looked on, horrified, as eleven faces stared back at him with accusing eyes.

}cm{

Spencer threw the covers off of himself, clawing at his arms hard enough to welt the skin.

Silvia spoke softly, "The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, who thicks man's blood with cold." She reached for Spencer's hand, and he jerked away, nearly falling to the floor. Stumbling his way to the bathroom, almost blind in his haste, he ignored the pleas of his companions. He didn't even spare a moment to undress before stepping into the shower and letting the ice-cold jets shock him out of the waking terror. He sat down on the shower floor, wet hair twined around his fingers and pulling at his scalp. Still the images came.

"Doc?" Gabriel stood in the doorway. Spencer began to hum tunelessly. "Doc," he tried again, huffing in frustration when there was no response. He disappeared from the room, and Spencer could hear a whispered argument taking place in the next room. "Fine!" Gabriel snapped and made a reappearance in the doorway. "Silvia has requested that I make known our concern," he said as though he were reciting. He looked at the drenched, shivering figure and reached over to turn the water temperature to warm.

"If you're going to ignore me, at least have the decency not to freeze to death while doing so."

"Helps me wake up," Spencer mumbled. "I need to wake up."

"You realize that you are awake, right? Surely your dreams aren't this boring."

"I-" Spencer started to speak but stopped abruptly. He clamped his left hand over his mouth and clenched his eyes tightly shut. The same tuneless song grated at the back of his throat.

"You can't keep doing this. You can't run away from this, Doc." The humming grew louder and more frantic. "You have to sleep."

"No." Spencer shook his head, his right hand still clutching a handful of wet hair. "It keeps coming back. Leaves… Faces… Leaves…"

Gabriel stood silently, listening as Spencer whispered those words over and over. Suddenly, his bloodshot eyes snapped open, and he turned the water temperature up to near-scalding. Slowly, his fingers untangled themselves from his matted hair, and his body relaxed.

"Where is Silvia?" he asked in an oddly flat tone.

For the first time that he could remember, Gabriel was truly taken aback. "She's in the living room. Why?"

"Keep her there. I have to change."

Gabriel arched a brow. "You've got to be- You know what? Never mind. Whatever you say, Doc."

Spencer stood and began to strip off the soaked clothing. "Thank you."

Keeping Silvia in one place was harder than Gabriel thought it would be. While Spencer finished showering, she hovered at the bathroom door, quietly insisting that he shouldn't be left alone. When he emerged from the steam-filled room in a thick terry robe, Gabriel had to block her path to keep her from following him into the bedroom. She was getting more worried by the minute, and Gabriel couldn't blame her for that. He knew what she was feeling, because he felt it too. It was a keen sense of disconnection. Spencer was shutting down, and for the first time, neither of them could decisively say what the man was thinking.

"I'm going out."

They both rose from the couch at the sound of Spencer's voice.

"I need you two to stay here."

"No," Gabriel immediately refused.

"It… is not good for Man to be alone," Silvia said warily.

Spencer glared at them for a few seconds before turning his back on them and heading for the door. "Do what you want. Just stay out of the way." And he walked out the door without a backward glance.

TBC…

Comments and constructive criticisms are most welcome.