A/N: Yup, I'm back with the next chapter. (grins) BUT, before that…

THANK YOU, so much, for each and every single one of your reviews! (HUGS) You guys have been amazing, sticking on this story and so fond of it. THANK YOU! (beams)

Awkay… I left you guys on a pretty bad cliffie so I think I should let you off the hook already. I REALLY hope that you'll find this worthy of all your expectations.

From the Ashes

/ True, Anton Silas was very good at his job. But not invincible. And certainly not immortal.

The first time Spencer met Anton after agreeing to the CIA's insane plan his cell phone received a text message early in the morning. It was short and clear – only a extremely ill famous motel's name and a room number.

Going there was the last thing Spencer wanted, to face someone like Anton when he'd just agreed to sell the murderer out. But he couldn't run away from it, either. And so he moved.

Reaching the motel took less time than he'd hoped. Making his way through the building, trying not to see all the damned souls looming around like ghosts and closing his nose from the horrendous reek that'd seeped everywhere, Spencer fought the temptation to turn around with every step he took. He didn't turn. Instead he knocked on door 131.

He'd never met the man who answered the door before. About fifty years old, sharp blue eyes, a little bit of grayish hair. The stranger could've definitely used a shower. It was easy to smell grease, tobacco and something far more unpleasant. The man's clothes were filthy, stained by blood. "What the hell do you want?"

Spencer swallowed, struggling to keep his expression neutral. "I'm Spencer. I… came to meet Anton." His voice didn't fail him, at least.

The man nodded. Apparently Anton's 'visitors' weren't a very uncommon thing. "'Doubt he'd be a lot of fun right now. I just patched him up." The stranger gathered his equipment, then headed towards the door. "If the bastard lives through the night tell him that he owes Doctor two grand."

Spencer nodded slowly. "I will." He shivered when the doctor passed him by.

It took a moment before Spencer had composed himself enough to actually step inside. He closed the door, inhaled for a second although the room's stench made him want to throw up. Then braced himself and faced Anton.

Seeing Anton like that was a surreal experience. So pale and still, stained by blood. Covered in bruises and bandages. Half dead, it seemed. Spencer felt a stab of ache although he probably shouldn't have.

Something pulled him closer although he should've left. He shivered as Anton's eyes opened halfway when he was two steps away from the bed. In an instant he knew that the other man had a high fever. At first it didn't look like Anton even knew who he was but then, slowly, recognition dawned. A frown appeared. "Spence…? What are you…?"

Spencer was already stood by the bed. He felt incredibly cold all of a sudden. "You sent me a message, remember? Told me to come." He forced a smile, even took Anton's hand. His head was spinning wildly. "So… I'm here." It was true, at least. And he wasn't going, no matter how badly he would've wanted to. He couldn't. "You have fever. Just sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." He was probably a horrible person to wonder if it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Anton wouldn't wake up at all. If…

Anton squeezed his hand back so hard that nails dug into his skin, even managed to draw a little bit of blood. Those eyes looking into his seemed to see far more than he would've been happy to reveal. And then, very slowly, the notorious killer fell asleep.

It would've been so very easy for Spencer to kill the man, right there and then. Perhaps he should've when he still had the chance. But he didn't. Couldn't.

Instead Spencer pried his hand from Anton's painful grip, careful not to disturb the man's rest, then dashed out of the room. When he threw up loudly he told himself that it was all because of stress, confusion and physical exhaustion.

If only he knew… /

Spencer hated funerals, more than could possibly be explained with words. But on that particular, ridiculously sunny day he was trembling violently. It was a miracle that he could stand.

According to a specialist Anton Silas was dead. The body in the car that'd blown up right before Spencer's eyes was definitely a man's. Former tests had been taken and the results weren't in yet but apparently there was no doubt. The monster was gone – or so they said. But with a horrifying price.

Shots were fired and Spencer shivered. For a moment he wasn't sure if the hand that appeared to his shoulder was real or not. He leaned against it anyway, desperate for comfort. For someone to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

Staring at the crying, grieving people around him Spencer couldn't keep himself from thinking that this was all his fault. If he'd never crossed paths with Anton, if he'd never led the man to his family… If he was faster, better, smarter, tougher…

"Hey…!" a very familiar voice whispered to his ear. The hand squeezed a little tighter. "I know that look. You can't do this to yourself, Reid. What Silas did… It's not your fault. None of it. Only his. The faster you accept that the faster you can move on."

Spencer shivered, fought back a bitter chuckle. He had a eidetic memory. It was sort of hard to just glide past the chaos, tragedy and devastation. Even after three weeks the memories, the bleak facts, were far too vivid.

Aaron and David had been running away from the first explosion, most likely trying to get to Anton. That's why they made it with small burns and some bruises. Emily had been a little less lucky. The impact had sent her flying at a wall, giving her a nasty burn to the back that'd leave eternal scars and a mighty concussion. JJ's left leg burned badly but the doctors managed to save it. She got home twenty-two hours ago. Spencer made it with bruises and a blow to the head that forced him to spend a night in the hospital. Out of them Derek had it the roughest. For a while they couldn't be sure if the agent would make it at all and during those endless days Spencer was sure that he'd go mad before it'd all be over. It wasn't until today Derek would finally be discharged from the hospital. And then there was the CIA-team. Three of them had minor injuries. Two of them ended up into a hospital, another one of them was still in a critical condition in the ICU. Three more lost their lives. Three, including LeAnna Pavlov. Today those lost ones were laid to rest.

Spencer closed his eyes, unwilling to see the funeral ending. To face the point where all those grief stricken people just stood there, lost and wondering what the hell they were supposed to do next. He swallowed. The awful taste remained in his throat. "When… When I came back I never expected any of this, although I should've. I should've…"

"No. We all should have. You weren't there alone, planning on that operation. I was the one who signed our team to it. So aren't I as much to blame as you are? Or even more?" Aaron's hand was comforting as it rubbed his back. "We could continue this blame game forever. But it wouldn't change anything. What's happened has happened. Right now we need to move on, for everyone's sake. This is finally over."

Spencer emitted a shuddering sigh. Then, very slowly, he laid his hand on Aaron's, feeling an instant response. Such public displays of affection were rare and risky. But at the moment Spencer couldn't regret, not when he felt a ton's weight shift from his chest. For a moment the shadows looming everywhere faded away, at least a little bit.

There, with Aaron's hand keeping him grounded, Spencer found it easy to ignore the eyes he could've sworn feeling on his skin. The illusion of safety was oddly comforting.

Finally given the permission to leave the hospital Derek was out of the building almost before his doctor got the chance to hand over the discharge documents. Spencer was there to pick him up, fussing around him like a true mother hen. Spouting facts and statistics of just how lucky Derek was to be alive.

Oh, Derek knew. Out of his own team he was the closest to the explosion. A massive concussion, some nasty burns, a quite impressive blow to the head, some bruised ribs, a broken wrist and quite a bit of bleeding was a very merciful outcome compared to how bad it could've been. He was unconscious for almost three days. (It wasn't until much later he found out that during those days it wasn't certain that he'd ever wake up again.) When he finally woke up Spencer was there, visibly exhausted to the bone and eating his jell-o. If he would've been able to he wouldn't stayed awake to that sight forever. What he managed was three minutes. Since then the progress was infuriatingly slow. Most days only Penelope's threats kept him in the hospital.

Spencer gave him a long, wary look when he sat into the genius' car, unable to mask a wince when his ribs and burns protested. "You're gonna have to take it easy, alright? You heard the doctor. Your body…"

Derek groaned, although he had to admit that Spencer's worry wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I know, I know. No running around or breaking down doors." He sighed, unable to find a comfortable position. "I just can't wait to get home. I miss my own bed."

"According to Garcia Clooney's missed you." There was a amused look on the doctor's face. "She's pretty sure that he's going to go crazy when you get home."

Derek laughed. A bad move. His ribs snarled a immediate protest that made him groan.

Of course Spencer heard. The genius frowned and gave him a worried look. "Are you okay? We can still turn around and go back if…"

Derek wanted to laugh again, despite the pain on his ribs. He looked towards his best friend for a second longer than he should've. He wanted to laugh, along with quite a lot of other things… "Reid, I already spent three weeks in that place. I'm perfectly fine – I can show you the doctor's report if you don't believe me. Besides, I doubt that they'd take me in even if you'd drag me there kicking and screaming. I think I drove the staff crazy. They're probably having a party right now."

He finally succeeded in something, at least. Spencer smiled. The genius wouldn't relax at all but at least that heavy silence wasn't between them anymore. Things felt a little bit closer to normal. And gosh, how Derek missed normal!

But of course there were certain things that just had to be discussed. Spencer was the braver one of them. "Look… I'm sorry, Morgan. About… this. All of this." The man swallowed loudly. "This is why I left in the first place, you know? To keep you guys from getting hurt. To keep Anton away from you. And now…"

"Reid." Derek's hand was faster than his head. It reached out, covered the genius'. Spencer stiffened even further than he did but didn't ask or retreat. That silent acceptance ushered Derek on. "You fought alone for as long as you could. Too long. That guy… He tormented you, threatened you. And you didn't give up. Somehow you even managed to get and protect a beautiful baby girl. I'm glad that you came to us, before it was too late." He wanted to pull his hand away but couldn't. Fortunately Spencer didn't seem to even notice the touch. He paused for a moment before continuing. "What Anton did… It was none of your fault, do you understand? He was a monster. A demon. But he's gone now. He'll never, ever hurt anyone again." He swallowed. The taste in his mouth was a lot more bitter than he'd expected. "So… Don't look like the weight of the world lies on your shoulders. You and Hotch can finally start figuring things out in peace."

Spencer's eyes were those of a deer caught in the headlights. Blind panic, that's the only way to describe it. "You… You know?"

Derek gritted his teeth, looked away. He didn't even notice how his hand slipped from Spencer's, like the other's skin had burned. "You keep forgetting that you're dealing with a group of profilers, pretty boy."

Spencer shivered, something unreadable appearing into his eyes, and for a moment Derek feared that he'd given himself away. That he'd revealed too much. He hadn't. The expression changed once more until, after a eternity, words came. "Does it… bother you?"

Derek shrugged, his whole body shivering under a whirlwind. "That depends. Does he treat you right?"

Spencer nodded slowly. There was no misreading the look that appeared into those eyes. "Yeah, he does." No lie. No hesitation.

Derek nodded although it hurt, a lot. "Then I'm cool with it." It was surprising, really, that the smile came so easily through the ache. Spencer in love was a very beautiful thing, no matter how hard he wished that things could've been different. "But just so you know, if he ever hurts you I'll kick his ass. Even if it'd get me fired."

Spencer chuckled, finally relaxed. It was a sound he'd missed. "You know, Morgan, you won't be doing any 'ass kicking' for a long time."

As a response he swatted the genius' head with his good hand. Gently, tenderly. It was more of a caress than anything else.

"Hey!"

The rest of the ride went by in a light mood, with easy chatting. And somehow that was enough to chase away some of the throbbing underneath Derek's ribcage, at least a little bit.

A little bit later that evening Spencer had a smile on his face as he watched how Lucia explored toys that'd been far beyond her skill level just a blink ago, already sitting upright firmly. There was a gleam of excitement in her eyes he recognized easily. After a couple of failed attempts she succeeded and emitted a sound of delight.

"She's growing up really quickly", Aaron's voice half whispered while the man joined him. There was a parent's adoration and a hint of sadness in the unit chief's eyes.

Spencer nodded, unable to look away from his daughter for too long. He didn't even register how his hand took Aaron's and the man squeezed back. "She is", he admitted with a hint of melancholy. He glanced towards the other man once more. "Did Jack need help with his homework?"

"Yeah. Apparently it's some sort of a science project." Aaron seemed amused. "Honestly, I think that you'd be a lot more help than I am."

Spencer smiled. "Let's give him the chance to figure it out on his own first. He's a smart kid, Aaron. He'll surprise you."

"Lucia will give us a lot of surprises, too." ('Us'. No longer 'you'.) Aaron appeared slightly more serious than before, thoughtful. "She'll be just like you."

Spencer sighed, leaning against the arm that'd slipped subtly behind him. "I really hope so", he admitted quietly. "I'll do everything that's under my power to make sure that she won't turn out like Anton."

Aaron pulled him closer and in a surprising moment of spontaneity kissed his hair. It was feather light but made him feel warmer than he remembered feeling since Anton's violent return. "We'll take care of that together", the unit chief promised. "She'll never have to even know who Anton Silas was."

'Was'. Spencer shivered at the past tense. After seeing just what Anton had managed to come back from it was almost impossible to believe that the man could be gone all of a sudden. That the threat had suddenly vanished. Spencer had seen and gone through enough to notice when something sounded too good to be true. "I really hope that you're right", he sighed, so quietly that he was almost sure the other man wouldn't hear. Whatever thought might've followed was interrupted by a sudden yawn.

Aaron's breath brushing his neck felt comforting. The man rubbed the back of his hand with a thumb. "Sleep, Spencer. I know that you kept having nightmares all night. You need rest." The unit chief pulled him closer. "I'll make sure that Lucia's safe in the meantime, I promise."

Usually Spencer would've resisted. But as it was he was too tired. He'd been on the edge, on constant watch, for such a long time. Too much was too much. And so he fell asleep to the sight of his daughter and to the feel of Aaron.

Fell asleep, although the dream world wasn't a very pleasant place. Because there Anton was still chasing him and his family. The dream felt far too vivid to his liking.

Spencer wasn't alone with his suspicions. In the bureau Penelope was typing furiously. Aaron's words from a conversation that took place earlier that day echoed in her ears.

/ "Something about this just doesn't feel right. That's why I want you to make sure…" /

Penelope typed and typed, until the information she'd been looking for was right there. For a moment she stared, her eyes widening to a ridiculous extend. She could've sworn that her heart stopped for a while.

"Oh… my god…!"

The official report of the body that'd been found from Anton Silas' car was finally ready. The CIA had gone far enough to demand a series of DNA-tests to be fully certain of the deceased's identity. Only, they hadn't come to the conclusion they would've wanted.

The dead man wasn't Anton Silas.

It was William Reid.

TBC

A/N: And just when we thought that it couldn't get any messier… (winces) 'Can't believe ANYONE thought that Anton would die that easily! We'll see just how deep this mess is going to get…

PLEASE, leave a review. Good? Barely even warm? Ice cold and flatlined? Do let me know. Consider it a late Christmas present. (winks)

I've really gotta get going now. (pouts) Until next time, you guys! I really hope that I'll see lots of you there.

Be good, even if Christmas already passed!

AND HAVE A VERY HAPPY, EXCITING NEW YEAR!

zeeandzed: Sure was one! (groans) I'm really glad to hear that you enjoyed the chapter.

Gigantic thank yous for the review!