Warning: This chapter contains discussion of self-harm.

"No…no I don't want it. I don't want it. No…no please. Please stop…stop. I don't want it! I don't want it! Derek! No! No no no! Derek, help me!"

He jolted upright in the armchair with a gasp, running a hand absently over his face. The blaze of the clock under the small TV said it was 3:15…he hadn't even been asleep for 2 hours.

"Derek…Derek help…Derek help!"

The kid was thrashing around on the sofa, tangled in the afghan, crying out hysterically. Derek launched himself from his make-shift bed and knelt beside the couch, taking Spencer's face gently in his hands. "Spencer? Spencer, wake up."

"No…no…" his face was contorted in agony and his hands found his way to Derek's, long fingers trying to tug away his grasp. "I don't want it…I don't want it…"

"Shhh…" Derek kept his voice low even though he was terrified the young man was going to hurt himself. He tried to avoid the injured arm as he coaxed him to wake up. "Shhh…Spencer, it's a dream, kiddo. It's just a dream."

Tears began to fall down the young man's cheeks, running into his hair, and he stopped trying to pull away from Derek, instead holding hard and fast to his wrists. "Derek help me…"

"I'm right here, baby boy. I'm right here. I've got you. Open your eyes." Derek smoothed his thumbs over the boy's cheeks as terror gripped him. This seemed like so much more than just a nightmare…like Spencer was caught in a terrible delusion that he couldn't tear himself out of.

What had he been thinking? He couldn't do this by himself…couldn't take care of Spencer the way he needed. Thinking otherwise had been nothing more than selfishness.

"Derek…Derek…"

"Come on, baby, wake up now. Everything's ok, I've got you." Was Spencer crying his name because he knew that Derek was there or, worse, was this a recurrence that had been going on even when the kid was alone? The possibility made him feel agonizingly guilty. "Spencer, you're safe. Open you're eyes. You're safe." He had to keep himself from shaking the younger man in frustration.

Suddenly Spencer took a gasping breath and launched himself upward, sending Derek sitting back fast on his heels. The kid put both hands to his head, and buried his face in them as he choked down air, struggling to calm his breathing. Derek clamored to his feet and pulled himself up onto the couch, pushing books out of the way.

He reached out to put his hands on Spencer's arms and found them trembling. "You're ok," he said. "You're ok now."

Spencer ran his hands over his hair and stared at his knees that were pulled up in front of him.

"It was Tobias," he gasped out, his voice shaking. "He was here. He was here, in my apartment."

Derek rubbed his hands up and down the too-thin arms. "Shhh…it was just a dream."

"It was so real…" his eyes were glassy and unfocused. "It was so real…" he trailed off and Derek watched as his tongue darted out to lick dry, cracked lips. Spencer's face had always been thin and angular – beautiful, Derek thought – but now he appeared gaunt with eyes surrounded by darkness and sunken cheeks. It was as though he was being haunted. Derek didn't even want to know how much – or how little – sleep he had been getting a night since Gideon left.

Spencer's eyes snapped up and were suddenly on him. He stared at him beneath the sweep of dark lashes. "You're still here…" he murmured. It could have been a question – Derek couldn't tell. Either way, he sounded surprised.

"I'm still here," he agreed with a nod. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't have to stay."

"I want to."

He looked down to where Spencer's arms were now encircling his knees and tried see if there was any evidence of blood leaking through the bindings. It seemed ok, although he was certainly going to check the wound and redress it in the morning.

"How often do you have these dreams?" Derek asked. "These dreams about Tobias."

Spencer shrugged. "I don't know."

Well that was a lie, he could tell. He was willing to bet that Spencer was plagued by nightmares every night. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A fierce shake of the young man's head was the only response.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" he asked the boy softly.

Spencer stared at his knees once more. "I need to use the bathroom." He climbed to his feet and dropped the afghan on an arm of the couch, Derek watching as he shuffled down the hall. A moment later he could hear a door shut and he took a deep breath, leaning back against the couch cushions.

He could do this…he could do this…

Derek wished that he was more sensitive, more soothing to be around. That's what the kid needed…someone he could open up to…someone like JJ or Garcia, or even Prentiss, hard-ass though she sometimes was. Actually, what the kid really needed was a goddamn therapist to talk to, and sooner or later that was a conversation they were going to have to have. Yet again, Spencer was probably going to be pissed as Hell at him, but as much as Derek thought JJ or Garcia might be a better choice to take care of the young agent, he certainly didn't want to subject them to the rage that would surely come with it.

Plus Derek was selfish. He was. He had to admit that much to himself. He wanted to be the one here, wanted to be the one to take care of Spencer, wanted to be the one who the kid turned to when he needed someone to lean on. That was something else that was going to have to be admitted and discussed sooner or later…Derek had feelings for the younger man that he wasn't going to be able to ignore much longer. But how was he supposed to broach at topic like that?

There was a crash.

Derek leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the bathroom like a bat out of Hell. "Spencer?" he didn't bother keeping his voice low this time, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no response. "Spencer!"

He tried the doorknob, but found it locked. He pounded his fist on the door, growing more terrified by the second. "Spencer open the door! Are you ok?"

He grabbed the doorknob again and jiggled it. He wanted to break the door down but he was afraid the kid was just on the other side. "Spencer!"

"What did you do with them?" the voice from inside the bathroom was ragged…and enraged.

"What? Spencer, let me in!"

"Tell me what you did with them!" it was practically a guttural scream.

Oh God…the razors. He had done a thorough search after he had cleaned the bathroom. He found the small box of razor blades in the medicine cabinet and pitched them in the dumpster outside. He had gone through Spencer's closet, his nightstands, and his dresser to make sure he didn't have any more hiding. He had taken the nail scissors, the kitchen scissors, the steak knives and cooking knives and put them in the trunk of his car, feeling too strange about throwing those things away to get rid of them. But he couldn't leave one goddamn sharp object in the apartment. He knew that.

"Spencer," this time Derek did manage to keep his voice even. "I need you to open the door now."

"Tell me where they are!"

"I threw them away, Spencer. I got rid of them. I didn't want you to hurt yourself any more. You don't…you don't need to hurt yourself anymore."

A sob burst from the opposite side of the door and he shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against it.

"Spencer…" he said quietly. "Let me help you."

"You don't understand! You d-don't understand!"

"Then make me understand, Spence," he pleaded. "Come on. Come out here and explain it to me. Talk to me."

"No!"

Jesus. This was bad. This was very bad. Had he done the wrong thing? Made the wrong call? All he was trying to do was protect the kid!

He could hear Spencer crying softly and lowered his voice. "Let me help you, baby boy," he murmured. "Everything is going to be ok…just come out here and we'll talk."

Spencer sniffled hard. "You d-don't understand…I h-have to…"

His heart was in his throat. "Have to what, baby?"

"I…I need…"

"Shhh…come out here and tell me. You don't have to be afraid."

"Please just leave…" it was an agonizing plea and it seemed his voice was coming from lower now, as though he had sunk to the floor. Derek dropped to his knees to keep them on the same level.

"I'm not going anywhere, Spencer," he said. "I'm ready to sit out here all night if I need to."

"Please, Derek…"

"I'm staying."

The sobs were softer now, but Derek could still hear him crying. He was completely at a loss. How many times had he talked down a shooter, or someone who was preparing to fight, and managed to keep calm? Why was this so much more difficult than when someone had a gun or a knife trained on him? "Spencer," he said, "please open the door."

He was greeted with nothing but the sound of muted crying.

"Come on, baby…you don't need those razors. You know you don't. You're stronger than that."

"You d-don't know…" it was barely audible.

"Yes I do. I know you Spencer. I know what you've been through. You're stronger than this. Now open the door."

Another tearful pause, then, "I-I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I'm not going anywhere. Spencer?" For a few moments he sat there, listening to the younger man quietly crying on the other side of the door. Maybe he should call JJ and have her come over. Maybe she could get through to the kid…she was practically a sister to him. It didn't matter who Spencer listened to, as long as he listened to someone.

Derek's fingers were straying toward the phone in his pocket when he suddenly heard the lock on the door click. It was the only sound. "Spencer?" he said quietly.

When the younger man didn't emerge, Derek reached up and turned the knob, slowly pushing the door open. He saw Spencer sitting on the floor by the sink, the remnants of everything that was in his medicine cabinet, including the two glass shelves, scattered around him. Derek thanked God that the kid hadn't taken a piece of broken glass to himself…he had been too focused on the missing blades.

"Come here," Derek coaxed, holding out his arms.

Spencer looked at him with a tearful gaze, his face surrounded by the disarray of his soft brown hair. Even like this, in the midst of crying, Derek still found him breathtakingly beautiful.

"Come here, baby boy," Derek whispered again.

Spencer continued to stare at him, blinked, and then suddenly launched himself forward and into Derek's arms, burying his face into the older man's shoulder. His body began to shake with sobs.

Derek folded him tightly into his arms, pulling the too-thin body into his lap and stroking Spencer's hair. "Shhhh…" he murmured. "It's all right now, baby boy. It's all right now…"

Spencer just continued to cry. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" The words were muffled against the older man's neck as Derek rocked him, whispering words of comfort into his ear.

They sat on the floor like that for a very long time.

TBC