Warnings: Rape, Alcohol and Drug Abuse, Physical Abuse, Character Death, Suicide, some bad language.

This has not been beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Oh, and I don't own Criminal Minds or its characters.

Chapter Two

Tell Me It Doesn't Make It Better

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When Spencer arrived home he found Aaron in the kitchen with Jack. They were fixing dinner together, Aaron showing Jack how to layer lasagna noodles with the meat, sauce, and cheese.

It was so domestic.

Spencer hadn't expected to walk in on a scene that looked so normal.

That looked so happy.

He could feel the vial of dilaudid weighing down his pocket and he really wanted nothing more than to go into the bedroom and try to forget the last 24 hours. He jumped when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Spencer?" Aaron looked at him with concern.

It kind of made him feel sick.

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Where was that concern last night?

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"What—" he cleared his throat, "What's going on?" It was all Spencer could muster as a reply.

Jack ran up to the two men exclaiming excitedly, "Daddy's showing me how to make la…lasannn…lasannna?"

Chuckling, Aaron added, "Lasagna. We wanted to surprise you with dinner."

Spencer's brow furrowed as he looked around the kitchen and saw the fruits of their labors: lasagna just about to go into the oven, a fresh salad tossed in a large bowl with cherry tomatoes, shredded carrots, red onions, and cucumbers, and a loaf of garlic bread. It looked quite good, actually.

It was sweet.

Aaron moved a little closer, placing a gentle kiss to Spencer's forehead. "Dinner will be another 30 minutes or so. Why don't you and Jack go to the living room and work on the puzzle you two started last week."

That sounded ok.

Turning, Spencer headed to the living room grabbing Jack's hand along the way. He stopped right before they entered the room ahead of them and looked back to Aaron. "Thank you, for dinner. It's nice."

Aaron smiled back at his son and his lover. "You're welcome."

After dinner, Aaron had Jack go to his room to play. Spencer curled up on the couch with a mug of excessively sweetened coffee and a blanket Garcia had knitted for them as a house warming present three years ago when they moved in together. Aaron sat on the chair across from the coffee table.

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How ironic.

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Aaron cleared his throat as he began, his gaze focused on the table between them, "Spencer, I've been thinking about last night. I know I wasn't in my right mind—I'd had too much to drink…" He paused for a moment in contemplation. "That's been happening a lot lately, and I want it to stop. I don't remember much of last night and that scares me. I know I need help to work through my issues." He stopped again and shifted his eyes up to the doctor's before continuing, "I want to blame Lewis for everything, but I can't. I need to own up to my actions. I've decided to start seeing a therapist; the FBI will provide one. I've already talked to Cruz and he's set it up." He took in Spencer's shocked expression. "Can you please forgive me for how I've acted? I know I don't deserve it, but I need you by my side, Love."

Spencer shuddered at the term of endearment.

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Love.

That's what he called me last night.

Right before….

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Spencer was feeling slightly confused. Yes, Aaron had drank too much, and been withdrawn lately, and kept things bottled up inside. Yes, Spencer was happy he was getting some help; but, did Aaron really just ask him if he'd forgive the other man for raping him?

"Spencer?"

Aaron was looking at him like he'd zoned out again.

He hesitated for a moment and then, "Did anything else happen last night, Spencer?"

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Yes.

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"No."

He couldn't tell him. He was finally, finally, making progress…wanting help. He didn't need to know.

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It'll be ok.

I'll be ok.

Yeah…right….

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Later that night after Jack was put to bed Aaron headed to their office to get some papers ready for the next day. Spencer followed him to the threshold and gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I think I'll just go take a bath and read a little until you're ready for bed."

As he turned to leave, Aaron halted him, pulling the younger man into a tender embrace. "Thank you for not giving up on me, on us." He lifted the doctor's chin slightly and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. 'I love yous' were whispered and Aaron headed back to the office while Spencer walked toward the bath.

When he entered the bathroom and turned to the jetted tub in the corner, he was grateful that they'd splurged on that particular model when they bought the house. He ran the water as hot as he could stand it and discarded his clothes to the dirty laundry hamper in the opposite corner. After the tub was full he eased into the whirling bubbles, letting out a soft moan as the water began to soothe his aching body.

His sore body.

Why was his body so sore….?

...

...

Last night…..

"Aaron, you're drunk."

He looked up into his lover's eyes, usually so warm and inviting, and saw a cold, hard gaze staring back at him. Those eyes were not Aaron. Those eyes sent a chill down his spine.

Hands moved up to grab his wrists as Spencer tried in vain to stop the older man from unbuttoning his pants.

He'd already removed his belt.

In an eerily calm tone, Aaron ordered, "Spencer, stop fighting. You know this will do us both good. I love you. Just relax."

The genius let out a tiny whimper as his lover moved both his wrists up above his head and held them firmly in place with his left hand. He slid the other hand slowly back down the doctor's body, relishing the feel of the soft, pale skin of his neck. He lingered there, fluttering his fingertips over the doctor's left collar bone before advancing down and scratching his nails across a nipple as his lips met Spencer's in a crushing embrace. Spencer gasped at the unwelcomed contact and Aaron shoved his tongue in to deepen the kiss as he moaned into his subordinate's mouth. He continued to advance his hand down over his taut abdomen and toward his pants as the boy's body shuddered beneath him. Gently he unfastened the button and dipped his hand underneath the waistband of his boxers.

Spencer could feel Aaron's arousal at his hip. He began to truly panic. He couldn't believe Aaron was doing this. He knew the other man wasn't in his right mind…the alcohol, the stress…Aaron would never intentionally hurt him.

He tried to get through to his lover one last time, pleading, "Aaron, stop! This isn't going to solve anything. It's not going to prove we're alive…it's just going to hurt us—"

Spencer's breath hitched and he trembled with despair as he felt Aaron's grip on his member tighten.

He looked up at the man he loved through watery eyes as he cried out, "I don't want this! Please, Aaron….please don't do this—"

Suddenly he was backhanded across the jaw, hard, jerking his head to the side and causing his temple to slam into the hardwood. He screwed his eyes shut at the throbbing pain that was suddenly taking over his mind. He felt Aaron let go of his wrists and lift him off the floor by his upper arms. Then he was violently thrown back to the ground. He saw stars as his skull ricocheted off the floorboards and felt a searing, white hot pain radiate from his head down through his shoulders and back.

Spencer's eyes fluttered open as he fought to remain conscious. Softly, he murmured to anyone who could hear, "Help me….please," as his breath shuddered in his chest.

He was having a hard time focusing….

Aaron ran his fingers through the doctor's hair, seizing the golden brown tresses firmly by the roots and pulling back, forcing his chin up and exposing his neck. He heard Aaron whisper evenly in his ear, "You can't stop this from happening, Spencer. You'll only hurt yourself more. I love you, baby. Can't you see that? This is how I know we're alive. This will be so much better for you if you just relax and let go, Love."

And that's exactly what Spencer did. His eyes again fluttered closed as he fell into the soothing arms of unconsciousness….his lover's words and lips at his ear.

….

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Spencer lurched back into awareness as the reality of what happened the night before came crashing to the forefront of his memory. The bath was getting cold and he needed to do something to take the edge off his tortured mind and aching body.

He slowly got out of the tub, dried off and dressed. He chose a pair of flannel sleep pants and one of Aaron's old FBI t-shirts—the kind that had been washed so many times that the fabric was unbelievably soft. Then he opened up his sock drawer and picked out a perfectly mismatched pair. That's when he remembered that beautiful vial tucked away safe and secure in his pants in the laundry. He longed for some semblance of that safety and security as well. Quickly he turned back toward the bathroom.

He was glad he'd saved some packages of disposable needles and syringes.

He didn't know why he'd saved them….perhaps he didn't want to know.

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I guess you really are always an addict….

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All he did know was that he needed this, right now. Maybe that was the addict in him; maybe it was his need to escape. His need to escape this reality….the reality in which he, Dr. Spencer Reid, was now a victim of sexual assault. The reality where the love of his life had raped him and didn't even remember doing it!

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Fuck.

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It was just too much. He opened the needle and syringe, cleaned the rubber top of the vial with an alcohol pad, and pushed 1ml of air from the syringe into the vial. Then he turned the bottle upside down, marveling at the sight of the liquid—his salvation, as he pulled 1ml of the drug back into the syringe.

1ml.

4mg of dilaudid.

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That should do for now.

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He grabbed the terry cloth belt from the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and sat down, leaning against the side of the bathtub as he tied it tight around his upper right arm. With another alcohol pad, he cleaned the skin over one of the veins in the crook of his elbow. While the alcohol dried he inspected the faint scarring that was evidence of the previous hell he'd lived through.

Tobias, and the addiction the man had forced on him.

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"Tell me it doesn't make it better."

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He lifted the needle to his skin, bevel up. He took one last shaky breath, inserted the tip, and depressed the plunger.

As he felt the sudden rush of euphoria and the creeping oblivion Spencer thought only one thing:

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This is my solace.

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Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think.