Hello everyone,
I'm so sorry for the delay, I'm working on my thesis and a few other things at the same time, so I can't update very often. I hope you had enjoyed reading the last story.
So here is another one chapter long story, But it is very different from the rest. I had the idea of someone having a crush on Spencer, and a few days ago, I was looking through my old albums and then BOMB! This idea smashed me in the head.
So I really hope you enjoy reading it. Please please please leave REVIEWS!
I welcome all the criticisms. Help me grow!
I love you all,

Summary: This story takes us back to the day when Spencer had his mom admitted to Bennington Sanitarium. He goes through a very dark time as she leaves, telling she hates him. My OC 'Abby' helps him through this.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Criminal minds' characters

I do own Abby, she is Original

Trigger warning: mention of Self-harm, almost graphic scene ahead
***

The first thing was the scream. The long, heartbreaking, painful cry came from the next-door neighbor's house.

"I don't need help. Spencer! I don't need HELP" it was Diana. As soon as the words were out, I knew,

"THIS IS MY LIFE! You can't take it from me!" Diana cried aloud.

So I ran to the window, opened the curtains, and stared out. Two men were trying to take her to a car, I rushed back into the room to get my glass, ran to the window, now I could see. It was some kind of hospital van. I was wearing my glasses now, but still, I couldn't see what was written on the van. And then he was in the picture. The tall, skinny boy from next door. He was standing not far from the door of his house, watching the men taking his mom.

"Spencer! You can't do this!" Diana wasn't fighting hard, but she was struggling. Deep down, she knew it was better for her, I guessed. But still, I knew this wouldn't make it any less painful.

I heard him, "I'm so sorry, mum," his voice broke.

I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep breath. I had too much drama myself, I wasn't sure how much of this I could take.

Diana stopped. She turned around, send Spencer a dark, betrayed look, and shouted, "I hate you!" then she walked to the van by herself. Sat in and they drove away.

I could see Spencer hugging himself tightly, standing on the porch and staring blankly.

"Abby," I heard my mum calling. "Abby! Come right now! Can't you hear I'm calling? ABBY!" so I gave up. I walked fast out of my room, the last picture I saw was him standing, slightly shaking and staring into nothingness. That picture broke my heart.

"Good night!" I said, closed the door of my room, took a few deep breaths, and rushed to my window. Reids' house was dark. I wondered if he had left the house, But I would know. If he had taken his bicycle, or maybe he walked. How could I know?

My head was pounding, and my heart was racing. I remembered the day when we were playing cards, and I tried to read their Tarot meanings for him. First, he was shocked as he never guessed I was into those things. But soon he understood me, soon he told me this isn't very safe coping mechanisms to choose from. I was ashamed. He knew my life as I knew his. I had seen his horrible times; I had seen him bullied, beaten, and broken. I had sneaked out of the window to take him warm clothes or blanket at nights when his mum had thrown him out. I had cleaned his face, wiped the blood, and put ice on bruises.

But it was in both ways. Spencer had talked to me when no one else was there for me, helped me through my darkest times. Held my hand and stopped me from falling too many times.

I remembered that conversation we had

"Well, I guess I'm psychic then," I said.

"I can't really understand how you got into this!" Spencer said as he moved another chess piece.

"I read your cards yesterday, were they wrong?" I asked as I examined the board. I was going to lose anyway.

"Well! You know me too well to read wrong!" he smiled.

"Yeah, But I know when I have to come … you see, I get this feeling in my gut sometimes…" I said. He wanted to explain it, but I jumped and continued, "and you know what! I trust my gut because it isn't my gut, it's my cerebellum, I read it a few days ago, there are these things called internal models they get stuck in your mind…" I continued with a huge smile. I was so proud that I had something valuable to share.

I missed spending time with him. He had already finished high school a few years ago and was enrolling in university. And I was trying to get my diploma! Although he was only a year older than me. He was so ahead of me in life.

I took a deep breath, I had that feeling again. A sense which told me to get out of the house and ran to the place next door. I could tell something was wrong. So I opened the window and took the leap of faith… praying that I don't be the bothering nosy girl, all people told me I was.

(in Spencer's house)

After a moment of hesitation, a moment of understanding what was happening in front of me, I walked on to the bathroom, quietly knelt down behind him and hugged him like there was no tomorrow. Until that day, I had never even touched him. He hated handshakes, hugs, and getting to close to people. But at that moment I had really no idea what I had to do. I felt his boney frame stiffing, he stopped sobbing, and a small tremor ran around his body. I put my chin on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and slowly moved my hands so I could get a hold of his arms. I couldn't look at it. the blood, the scars… I had never seen a boy … do that. Statistics showed it was… I couldn't remember the numbers, but I knew those self-inflicted scars where much less seen in boys and very rare in The men.

He was skinny, but still, he was taller and yet so stronger. I knew he could push me away anytime he wanted. And I was afraid to death if he would do that. I prayed to all gods for him to not to shake me away. I could see it; I was ready to fight for it. In a moment, he could just throw me away, free himself, and lock me out of the bathroom. I prayed for him no to do that. And he knew better, He knew no close door could ever stop me. I would've solved in the wood, walk through closed doors just to come and hold him again.

I could feel warm tears, still running down his face. All I wanted was to make his problems go away, make them all disappear. Being weak, not trusted, and unable to heal him made me so frustrated.

"Shh…It's okay," the only thing I could bring myself to say. His body was slightly trembling. The smell of blood made me sick. The horrible had finally happened.

"Spencer," I called, moving my hands lower to his arm, a bit closer to the wounds. "Spencer…" I called again. He cried out loud and let go of razor he was holding. The sound of the small sharp iron object smashing floor was heard loud and clear, and I could finally breathe again. Spencer slowly gave up, his stiffen body leaned against mine, and his head fell back.

"You're fine," I whispered, so quietly that I couldn't even hear myself. He wasn't. He was anything but fine.

After a few minutes, I was sure he didn't intend to move. Slowly I pulled myself and him against the wall of the bathroom, letting his head rest beside the cabinet. Spencer was staring forward. He was long lost in his brilliant mind. His face was much paler, and the circles around his eyes seemed deeper and darker. The shining stars were all gone, and sorrow had filled those big golden-brown eyes of his.

I got up quickly as I couldn't waste any more time, used the first towel I saw to cover his arms. Some of the cuts had already stopped bleeding, but one or two seemed more severe. I looked around and found a first aid kit behind the mirror with lots and lots of pills… I knew the secret of those pills about his mother. What he had been through… knelt beside him. Now his eyes were closed, and his head had fallen to aside.

A long time ago, he had told me something about heartbreaks being real, and the pain and sorrow can sometimes cause a heart to stop. But how much pain can make a heart stop?

The thoughts running in my head made me shiver. Picking up his hand and feeling his pulse underneath my fingers was a relief. I rushed again, cleaned the wounds, and used butterfly snitches on one of them, the wrapped gauze around his boney arms and, finally took a deep breath. Now I could look at his face again. I couldn't believe what I saw, he was sleeping. I wondered if there was anything in the world more innocent or peaceful than the skinny boy in front of me. Anything purer …

I shook my head; I couldn't just leave him there… I touched his face with tips of my fingernails. "Spencer," I called, hating that I had to wake him up. He was still asleep. I trusted myself, I knew I could help him and carry him. I had done it once. I could do it again. So I put his arm around my neck and helped him on his feet, he was much taller than me but even lighter than the last time. We walked outside of the bathroom. He was completely leaning on me. I took a glance; his eyes were open now. I walked past his mother's room.

"Here," he said and tried to get free of my hand holding on his waist. I kind of let go of him. He walked with shaking steps to his mother's bed and collapsed on it. His body smashed into the mattress and all books on it. He hissed in pain, I could tell it was about his arm.

"Be careful," I rushed toward him. And again, he was crying.

"Spencer," I was devastated. I had no idea what I could do. So I climbed up the bed and again drag him into a hard embrace. I wasn't sure how much pain was needed to make a heart stop, but I could feel my chest tighten around my lungs, I could feel my heart crashing into my ribs to break free of my chest. I didn't care what was happening outside. I couldn't care less about the world. I wondered if he ever wondered about how much I cared about him… But it was all irrelevant now. I was ready to give all I had to make his pain fade away… He cried and cried and cried… until he was fallen asleep again.

Stroking his hair, I was lost in time and space. Then I saw it, the bag and boxes. He was planning to leave... was it our farewell?