Spencer was still not entirely sure why he originally called Elizabeth. He was never good with social interaction outside of work, he never thought he would get so far as to be able to make a friend. Elizabeth was odd. With all her degrees and knowledge, she could be a museum director or professor almost anywhere in the country, instead she takes random jobs as they come to her, working as a receptionist, an archivist, a curator, teacher, public speaker, heck, he remembers her mentioning she was working at a fast-food place for a month as a part-timer. It didn't make sense. Yet, he enjoyed her easy-going personality, it was nice to not be racing against time, trying to say everything he needed before the other person got bored and left or worse, the unsub killed again. She could talk and engage with him on a level that was very rare for him to be able to do with anyone, he still felt out of place and awkward talking with someone that he didn't need to, but he was improving.

So, when Spencer managed to find Elizabeth's apartment, through the sleep deprivation and hunger, he's surprised he didn't just end up going back to his apartment by accident instead. When he knocked, he honestly wasn't sure if she would answer, but she did. She was so animated and enthusiastic, he wanted to listen to what she was talking about, but he was having trouble focusing. Why did he come here? She doesn't want him here. He couldn't bring himself to move though. Then, as he was just about to just turn around and leave, he felt warm arms around him suddenly. Surprisingly, he didn't feel like pulling away, he embraced the gesture of comfort.

"You up for some hot chocolate? I got the tiny marshmallows you like." He saw her smile at him. He felt himself being led to the sofa. As soon as he sat down, he had a hot chocolate in his hands.

"What do you want to talk about?" Spencer's thoughts came to a halt. What did he want to talk about? He just wanted sleep, peaceful sleep. But he shouldn't just go off and start talking about his nightmares, how should he approach this? Oh man, he wished he just understood social interaction. Maybe if he just went through his day, that's what normal people talk about, they describe their day, or in his case the past week. He took a breath and some hot chocolate.

"I have been swamped with paperwork, I can't wait to get out of the office, did you know that there are about 30 serial killers active in the USA? Have I told you about the difference between an organized killer and disorganized well-. "

"Spencer!" He looked up instantly, he knew it, she didn't want to listen to this? Who would? No one wanted to know details about terrible people killing other people? What was he doing here? He should just leave. A quiet sigh brought his attention back to the room.

"So, what have you been eating?" Spencer mind halted for the second time tonight. What had he been eating? He had… did he have something?

"What have I been eating? Umm, I had eggs for breakfast, coffee, a hot dog and I had a cinnamon roll." He hadn't had anything but coffee and pretzels for most of that week, so he thought he was doing better, but now that he listed it out, it was still kinda pitiful.

"Just that for all of today?"

"For yesterday and today." He winced gently as he said it. Fearing judgment, he looked up. Instead of disappointment, he was shocked to see a look in her eye that said a bet was coming.

"Well, gambling man, we are going to have a proper- "She turned to look at the clock, "10'o' clock dinner." Standing up, she pulled his hand. Looking at her eyes, he saw that she wasn't upset, her eyes gleamed playfully. "Come on, gambling man, you know how to cook right, or is that 187 IQ a lie?" If she wanted a competition, well, he would give her a competition.

"Of course, I know how to cook." Wait a second, did he know how to cook? It's all simple chemistry, it can't be that hard.

"Well let's make a bet gambling man, if you can make a dinner better than me, we can watch star trek, if I make a better dinner, we have a Disney marathon, deal?" He smiled, this time he would win. He brought up his hand, offering it.

"Shake on it?" Elizabeth smiled, but he could tell that she was shocked. For a second, he thought that maybe she wasn't going to shake, and immediately started to drop his hand. Her tiny hand with pink and green nails reached out and caught his, and shook. He stared in daze again, but for an entirely different reason. He voluntarily shook someone's hand.

To be fair, while he lost the cook off, he did win the stay-up-the-latest award, it was 2am and Elizabeth had fallen asleep a half an hour earlier. Looking over at Elizabeth, he had a rare moment of peace. The gentle sound of her breathing and the cozy warm blanket were too powerful to ignore, and he knew sleep would come soon. He was content though, and maybe, just maybe, the nightmare wouldn't come tonight.

As Alice woke up to discover it all was just a dream in the movie, he felt his eyes drop and get heavy. He was entering the world of dreams. The last thing he noticed was the faint scent of clove and green tea, with a hint of something else that he couldn't place. He tried placing it but just as he thought he had it, he was embraced by the world of darkness he had feared for so long.

The light streamed into her apartment, and Elizabeth squeezed her eyes. It was too bright and early. She grabbed the blanket and tried to cover her face. The blanket wouldn't move. She pulled harder.

"Hey!" The blanket pulled back. What? Her confusion pulled her from sleep. Blinking rapidly, she looked to the other end of the sofa, where she saw Spencer, eyebrows furrowed and mouth frowning in distaste to the sunlight. Turning, she saw his legs, too long, had fallen off the side of the sofa. This means he ended up sleeping in a weird diagonal u shape. his neck and back were going to be killing him.

"Spencer." She whispered. His eyes slowly opened, squinting against the sun, he looked confused for a second, till he realized where he was. He laid his head back down on the arm of the sofa.

"You feeling better?" He looked better at least, the circles under his eyes had lessen a bit.

"Yeah, I didn't have a nightmare this time." He said offhandedly, he wasn't fully awake yet it seems, she knew he wouldn't have told her otherwise. She pursed her lips.

"You've been having nightmares?" His eyes opened fully now, looking like he just betrayed a secret about the pentagon. He didn't say anything. "Look Spencer, you love your job, you do so much good, but in order to continue that good you need to keep yourself in better shape." She paused, considering if she should continue. While she could be there for him, she couldn't completely understand. He had to deal with the depravity of humanity every day. The worst thing she's seen was a kindergarten class all vomiting. On the display. That she had just finished. Anyway, she had to tell him that she couldn't always help him, but there were people that could. "Maybe… maybe you should ask your coworkers, they've been at this longer, I'm sure they have similar problems." He didn't respond. He was either still afraid of her reaction or he was still tired.

"Well now, to business, I'll make some breakfast, and you…" Looking at Spencer's rumpled dress shirt and sweater, "Need some new clothes, I have some of my brother Luke's clothes that he left here by accident, I washed them, but he might be a bit more… broad then you, but I think the height will be fine." The talk of clothes and a new day seemed waken him a bit, as he swung his body around to get out of that awkward U shape. Stretching his arms and legs, cracks could be heard throughout his body. She scrunched her nose.

"Geez, you sound like bubble wrap." He laughed a little as he moved his neck, and then proceeded to show off his knowledge of everything.

"You know, Bubble Wrap was originally called Air Cap. It was created in 1957 by engineers Alfred Fielding and Marc Chavannes, who first marketed the material as textured wallpaper. When that failed, they attempted to sell it as greenhouse insulation. But it wasn't until IBM needed something to protect the shipments of their new 1401 Data Processing System in 1960 that the material really began to take off. " Happy that he was starting to sound like himself, she replied,

"And did you know the makers of Bubble Wrap conducted a survey and respondents said that just over one minute of popping bubbles provides the stress relief equivalent to a 33-minute massage. Maybe I should get you some bubble wrap for your job." She said with a smile. "The clothes are in that trunk by the coffee table, you want eggs or french toast?"

"French toast" Spencer got up and retrieved his new set of clothes. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Just past the entrance on the left!" She yelled from the kitchen, as she proceeded to get out her ingredients. She heard the door shut. Singing, she made her way about the kitchen, she was so absorbed in her work that she didn't hear Spencer come in. He stared at her, announcing his presence in the only way Spencer could, with knowledge. "you know one of the theories about why we sing is that music binds groups of people together. The resulting solidarity, its supporters suggest, might have helped bands of early humans to thrive at the expense of those that were less musical." She jumped up for a second at the sudden voice and smell, then smiled.

"And one of the other theories is that music is one of the foods of love. The more mellifluous the singer, the more dexterous the harpist, the more mates they attract, interesting right?" She looked back then, and burst out laughing

"What?" Spencer looked down at what he was wearing, the sweatshirt he was wearing was baggy when her brother wore it, on him, it was like a blanket of him, underneath he wore ripped up jeans that that seemed to stop a bit short of his ankles, with his typical dress shoes tying the whole mess together. At least it was a washed mess.

"They won't be angry about the whole casual vibe?" She looked up and down at the whole piece of fashion standing in her kitchen.

He looked up. "Nah, I have a go bag there so I can change later." She shrugged.

"Okay, if you sure." She turned back as she put the toast on the pan. Offhandedly she mentioned "If you want, I'm doing some work at the marine corps museum as a program organizer, I could drive you?" She turned back, trying to read his face. He seemed to considerate it.

"How did you even get here?" She asked, now realizing he didn't seem to have keys on him or anything.

"Umm, I took the bus and subway and then walked, I didn't think it was a good idea for me to drive."

"Bro, my apartment is like, a mile from the nearest subway stop."

"Bro? and it's 1.2 miles."

"Sorry, I tend to refer to friends as 'bro', maybe because in high school pretty much my only friends where my two older brothers." She pursed her lips and brought the spatula to her mouth "Huh, never thought about that." She shook her head, "Anyway, that decides it, I'll drive us to Quantico, now eat up!"

Okay I have a confession to make. This takes place during 2005, knowing that, the facts about bubble wrap being relaxing was discovered until 2012. Please forgive my little mess up of the time continuum, I just felt the need to have a little PSA in here too ? I hope to have a chapter up tomorrow, maybe one more, but after that I am going to have to slow down on the updates.