Well, here it is – the chapter I'm the most nervous about posting. I got about as many calls for this one to be published as those asking me not to do it. At the end of the day I have to be true to myself, so with that, here's the notification:

WARNING: spanking of an adult contained within. If you don't like, don't read.

I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I watch Cash Cab with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.

Without further ado, chapter 9 . . .

XOXOXOXOXO

The morning came too early. Hotch was up at dawn as usual. He straightened the bed, took a quick shower, and dressed in clean sweats and a gray t-shirt. He quietly opened the guest bedroom door and found Reid sleeping soundly. Silently closing the door, he wandered into his office. He spent the next couple of hours looking through files and finishing up paperwork. At 7:45 he heard Reid beginning to stir. He headed for the kitchen and began chopping peppers, onions and ham for omelets. Five minutes later Hotch was ready to cook, but there was still no sign of Reid. He grinned to himself when the young agent waited until exactly 8:00 to leave the room.

Shuffling down the hall in his pajamas, Reid sleepily rubbed his eyes. His hair was sticking up at all angles. Glancing at the young man, Hotch had the fleeting impression of a drowsy 5 year old looking to start his day.

"Good morning. Sleep well?"

Yawning, Reid nodded, "Like a baby."

Hotch grinned at the odd expression. He knew from experience that babies rarely sleep soundly. He finished up the first omelet and flipped it onto a plate, then set it on the table and gestured to Reid to sit, "Eat" he ordered.

Reid was famished. He immediately sat and dug in. It was the first homemade breakfast he could remember having in a very long time, and it was delicious. He gulped down the orange juice, and then scanned the kitchen in hopes of finding a coffee pot brewing. Disappointed at not finding one, he considered bringing it up with Hotch, but then thought better of it. He already felt like he was imposing, which was odd since he'd practically been dragged here.

Finishing the second omelet, Hotch sat and began eating. "How're you feeling?" he asked through a mouthful of breakfast.

Reid felt far more relaxed after a good night's sleep, but his eye was a deep shade of purple as was the right side of his torso. He felt stiff and sore, but he said, "I feel okay."

Hotch carefully laid his fork down and gravely looked the young man in the eye, "Spencer, If this is going to work, you're going to need to be honest with me." He held Reid's eye a moment longer, then resumed eating his breakfast.

Embarrassed at being caught in a lie, Reid nodded his head, "I'm sorry. I-I'm a little sore."

"There's Ibuprofin on the counter. Pour yourself some more juice and take a couple."

Reid, his gangly legs not yet ready to obey him this morning, awkwardly rose from the table and did as he was told. Lingering at the counter, he cleared his throat hoping his next words wouldn't make his voice crack, "H-Hotch, what are we doing here?" He was curious and not at all defiant. He deserved an answer.

Hotch deliberated for a moment how to proceed. Removing their dirty dishes to the sink and standing face-to-face with his youngest agent, he asked, "Do you trust me?"

Reid seemed confused by the question, but answered, "Of course I do."

"I'm going to ask you a question and I need an honest answer. Can you give that to me?"

The young man gulped and thought about this, "Yes, sir."

"Are you using again?"

Reid had been fairly certain this question was coming. He wasn't sure how to respond, but he'd promised Hotch an honest answer, "I-uh. . . no, not exactly." Hotch gazed at him patiently waiting for a more complete answer. "I-I wanted to. I t-tried to . . . last night." He broke eye contact with the older man, and the rest poured out like a damn breaking, "I was going to buy dilaudid when I left the airport, but then you guys stopped me. Then I tried again when I got away from Morgan, and . . . well, you know how that turned out." He was studying his socks and feeling truly embarrassed by his weakness. He hated admitting he was so tempted by his addiction.

Hotch placed a hand gently on the younger man's upper arm, "Thank you for trusting me with that. Now, will you trust me to help you?"

Reid looked up through his eyelashes at his boss, barely daring to hope that he was offering what he needed. All he could do was nod in affirmation.

Hotch gave one of his patented stiff nods that signaled a deal had been made, "Good. Then let's have a seat in the living room and talk." Never taking his hand off of Reid's thin arm, he gently guided him to the couch. With both men seated, the older man began, "I know Gideon helped you a great deal when you needed it before, and I would never suggest that I can fill his shoes, but I'd like to try to help you in the same fashion he did."

He let that sink in while he carefully watched the younger man. Reid squirmed and blushed a bit. He remembered Gideon counseling him, staying up with him when the nightmares threatened, and in general protecting him from distractions when he so desperately needed to concentrate on healing. But he also remembered the restrictive rules, slowly earning his freedoms back, and how Gideon had enforced his rules. It was a disconcerting thought he might have to go back to that, but Reid had to admit that, once he had detoxed, the intervention worked very well and quite quickly. He cleared his throat and squeaked out, "umm . . . everything that Gideon did?"

"We'll work out a set of rules. I'm sure some of them will be the same. I'm not Gideon, and I won't try to be, but if this type of intervention is what works for you, I'm willing to help you the best I can."

Reid recognized that he was being given a choice. He could very easily walk away and try to find his own way through this mess. As frightening as the thought of pouring all of his trust into Hotch was, he wasn't sure he was capable of fixing this himself. Deep down he knew he truly wanted what Hotch was offering. He slowly looked up, finally making eye contact with the older man and merely nodded his head in agreement. Then he dropped his eyes and chewed on his lower lip wondering what it was he just got himself into.

As relieved as he was to have that out of the way, Hotch was almost willing to let yesterday's events slide, but that would not serve the kid well at all. Instead, he softly stated, "In the last 24 hours you've lied to both Morgan and me, you've been belligerent, you ran away from Morgan refusing to answer the phone when he called, and you knowingly put yourself, and in turn Morgan, in serious danger. Tell me, would Gideon put up with that kind of behavior?"

Reid's hair fell about his face as he intently studied his knees; his arms found their way back around his midsection. Hotch wasn't really going to punish him for those things, was he? He shook his head and meekly answered, "No, sir. He wouldn't, but that's not fair. I did all those things before we agreed to anything. You can't penalize me for that."

Hardening his heart against the plea he heard behind the kid's assertive words, Hotch asked, "Were you under the impression that any of those behaviors were acceptable at any time, regardless of our agreement?"

The young man gulped, "No, sir. But . . . but, it's not fair." He could hear the whine in his own voice and berated himself for it. Don't act like a baby!

"How would Gideon have handled this, Spencer?"

Reid really didn't want to answer that, but Hotch was deadly serious. "He'd have spa . . ." his voice trailed off. He just couldn't say it. It was too embarrassing. Maybe a different choice of words would help, "He'd have p-punished me." There. He'd said it.

Rising from the couch, Hotch held out a hand, "Come with me, please".

Startled by how fast things were progressing, Reid's head shot up to meet Hotch's eyes, mouth open to protest, though he couldn't think of what to say. Hotch simply reached down to help the young man to his feet. He firmly guided Reid past the bedrooms, and steered him to facing the empty corner at the end of the hall. Reid was confused by this action and tried to turn around. He had never in his life been made to stand in the corner. Hotch took both of the young man's arms in his hands and firmly turned him back to face the corner, saying, "You have ten minutes to think about why you're being punished. Do not move from this corner until I come to get you." With this, he went to the kitchen to clean the breakfast dishes.

Suddenly alone, Reid stared agape at the wall in front of him. Slowly, the shock of this new situation began to subside and was replaced with the old familiar flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He didn't want to think about what was coming, but he vividly remembered the last time he felt this way. Having a particularly difficult day he had thrown a temper tantrum about something stupid. Gideon had taken exception to his behavior and sent him to his room. When he had angrily refused, the older man had marched him to his room, spanked him soundly and made him go to bed early that night. It had hurt, but his mood was greatly improved the next day, and he was able to express his frustrations to his mentor in a more effective manner. Recalling that episode, he felt his butt starting to tingle.

XOXOXOXOXO

As Hotch cleaned the kitchen he considered Reid's argument. He was right. There was no agreement between them when he had committed these transgressions, but the fact remained that he had put himself in danger again, and if this were the only thing he had done, that would be enough to constitute this punishment. Hotch would not let the kid believe that no one cared about what he was doing.

He also thought about his son, Jack. He would never in a thousand years consider using corporal punishment on his own child. Why did he think it was suitable now? The answer was simple: It worked. This actually worked quite well with his youngest agent, but Hotch realized that was because of Reid's personality. Using this kind of discipline with any other member of his team would never fly because deep down none of them needed or wanted this kind of attention. Reid evidently did.

XOXOXOXOXO

Reid could hear Hotch working in the kitchen. Ten minutes seemed to be taking a very long time. If this was going to happen, he wished Hotch would just get it over with. He must have been standing here for ten minutes by now. Reid made a mental note to always wear his watch while he was here.

Deep in these musings he didn't notice when Hotch stepped up behind him. He jumped when the older man spoke, "It's time. Let's go, Spencer."

Reid turned around, eyes down. Hotch stepped aside to let him pass then laid a firm hand on the young man's back to help guide him into his bedroom. Once inside Hotch sat on the bed, took Reid's wrist, and pulled him down over his lap. Shifting a bit to get him in a comfortable position, Hotch reached his left hand over the boy's waist to help anchor him, but thought better of it remembering the large bruise he carried there. Instead he laid that hand on his lower back more as a reminder to keep still.

Reid reached up to grasp a pillow in which to bury his face. The young man could hardly believe how embarrassing this was to be butt up over his boss' knee.

All thoughts of emotional discomfiture vanished as soon as Hotch laid the first swat on him. It took a moment for the sensation to register in his head, but when it did, he flinched, shocked by how much it hurt. Gideon had always spanked him on his bare butt, so he was grateful that at least so far Hotch was leaving his pajama bottoms in place, not that the thin cotton offered much protection from the smacks that continued to fall in a steady rhythm. He tried hard not to cry out or squirm, but as the spanking continued he found it quite difficult. His bottom felt like it was being attacked by a swarm of bees, "Please. I'm s-s-sorry!" The tears were threatening to start at any moment, but it was what Hotch did next that really got them flowing. Hotch, continuing to spank, started to lecture.

"You're behavior yesterday was unacceptable. I will not tolerate your lying for any reason. For now on I expect honesty! Am I clear?"

"Y-yessss, Ssssirrrr." Reid cried

"I also expect you to show respect to your teammates. We're all here for you, Spencer, and I will not have you abusing people because you're having a bad day. Is that clear?"

Reid's tears were streaming down his cheeks now. He felt horrible about his behavior and how it had affected Morgan in particular. But that didn't make him change his mind about this spanking; he still wanted it to be over, "Yes, sir! I'm sorry. Please . . ." Hotch wanted it to stop now too, but he needed to make sure this lesson was going to stick. He continued spanking for another minute, struggling to keep the squirming boy in place over his knees. As Reid slowly started to give up the fight and his resistance lessened, Hotch considered one last point he needed to make.

The young man over his lap was sobbing now, and barely fighting him at all anymore. Hotch accented each word with a swat, "One more thing." Suddenly, he stopped spanking. He wanted the kid to really hear this part, "If you ever disappear on me or anyone on our team, or knowingly put yourself into serious danger again, I'll make this spanking feel like a day at an amusement park!" This made the young man sob even harder. Instead of resuming the spanking, Hotch gently began rubbing circles in Reid's back. He knew the kid had gotten the point.

After a few minutes, the sobbing slowed to quiet hiccups. Hotch gently helped the young man off his lap, but he crumpled to the floor and onto his knees in front of the older man. Automatically, Hotch placed a light hand on the kid's head. This was all the signal the sniffling young man needed to throw himself into Hotch's arms. He needed that connection now, and as uncomfortable as the older man normally was with physical contact, he hugged him to his chest and waited for the boy to calm down.

Sniffling into Hotch's chest, Reid tried to apologize, "I-I'm s-sorry, Hotch. . . I'm so sorry . . . "

"Shhh, Spencer, it's over now. Everything is forgiven and we're going to start fresh from this point on. We're going to deal with whatever's been bothering you, and then we'll move forward." Gently coaxing the young man's head back to look at him, Hotch continued, "You're important to this team, and you're important to me. I am by no means the greatest father in the world, but you've always felt like a son to me." Realizing that Reid was almost the same age as his brother, Sean, he changed his mind, "Well, maybe more like a little brother. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you as much as I should, but I'd like to try to make up for that, if you'll give me the chance."

Reid's face scrunched up, and he began to cry again. He could barely remember having a father, or a real parent at all, other than Gideon. His whole childhood he had needed to be the adult, never allowed to be a child. He loved his mother; she had done what she could to raise him, but honestly he had needed to parent her more than she did him. Hotch gathered him up and held him until the crying quieted and he limply hung in the older man's arms.

Reaching to the dresser, Hotch grabbed the box of tissues and laid it on the bed. Spencer grabbed a handful and noisily blew his nose. He didn't want to leave the comfort of Hotch's arms, but it was getting late, and they still needed to dress for work.

Hotch needed to cover one more area with the kid before that though. He patted the bed beside him, bidding the young man to sit next to him.

Reid shakily rose from the floor, grabbed more tissue, and gingerly sat on the bed.

"There're a few rules we need to go over."

Reid drew a quivering breath and nodded his head.

"First, for the rest of this week at least, I want you within earshot at all times."

"Apron-stringing." Reid grimly stated.

"Excuse me? What is that?"

"That's what Gideon called it. Until I had fully detoxed, I wasn't allowed further away from him than if I were tied to his apron strings." Reid couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Hotch had to grin. That sounded like something his old mentor would invent. "I don't think we need to take it that far. You're not detoxing from anything now, and I would hope I can trust you further than that. When we're in the office, the distance between your desk and mine should be sufficient, don't you think?"

Reid gave a grateful smile and nodded his head.

"However, if we are in the field at any point this week, you will stay with me at all times."

The young agent wasn't happy with that. What if someone on the team started asking questions? Maybe Hotch would go for a compromise, "What about Morgan? Can I go with him sometimes too?"

Hotch considered this, then conceded, "I'll discuss that possibility with him if we end up in the field." He saw Reid smile a bit, then continued, "Second, you will attend an N.A. meeting every day, and not just this week. Every day for the next two months at least."

Reid was shocked by this proclamation, "Every day? But what about when we're in the field?"

"Before we board the jet, I expect a copy of all the N.A. meetings in the area we'll be. That will be your responsibility. If you do not provide me with that, or if you can't find any meetings, you'll stay home."

Reid was beginning to feel grumpy about this one. Gideon had never made him go to those stupid meetings. He could hear the petulance creeping into his voice, but he couldn't do anything about it, "Who's going to babysit me then if I'm not with you?"

Hotch gave him a warning look. Reid gulped and tried to look apologetic. Hotch decided to let it go this time, "We'll have to work something out with Garcia, I suppose."

The look of horror the young man produced at this news was almost comical. "What? No way!" She'd mother him to death if she knew he was having problems.

"Do you have another suggestion?" the older man asked reasonably.

His genius mind tried desperately to come up with some other option, "I . . . uhh . . . I could . . ." Damn!

Hotch waited patiently for an alternative. Seeing the young man give up, he said, "Don't worry, unless we're in the wilds of Alaska, you'll most likely find sufficient meetings to attend. Last rule. I expect you to be honest with me about when you're feeling like using. We'll create a plan to help you take your mind off it, and an escape plan for when the cravings are just too much, in the meantime you're to come to me when the urge to use hits you. I don't care what I'm doing or how slight an urge it is. You let me know. Understood?"

Reid shook his head, "Yes, sir." He was astonished by how few rules there were. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Oh, and one last thing. Not really a rule, just an expectation. I will treat you like an adult if you act like one, but start acting like a child again and you know what's going to happen, right?"

Reid, wide-eyed and blushing slightly, bit his lower lip, sniffled and emphatically nodded.

"Good, then we understand each other." Hotch rose from the bed, "It's nearly 10:00. We need to get a move on. You have 20 minutes before we leave." He placed a hand on the kid's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, then left the room to get ready for work.

XOXOXOXO

Hope you enjoyed. Please review. Thanks!