Spencer heard his phone ringing and whimpered at the thought of having to reach for it. He sat up, wincing, and grabbed his phone, checking the caller ID. He was slightly surprised to see that it wasn't Hotch or JJ, but it was Derek. Hesitantly, he answered it.

"…Hello?"

"Hey, Reid. It's Derek."

"I figured. The caller ID gave it away."

He laughed softly. "I guess so. Listen, I'm on my way over there to talk to you. Do you need anything?"

"…Why are you coming here?"

He sighed, buckling himself in. "We couldn't get an exact match in ViCAP, and we think the best option is a cognitive interview."

He shuddered just thinking about it. "Derek, please. I will beg you if I have to. Don't make me do this."

"I'm sorry, Spencer, but if we have any shot of catching them, we need to do this. You're the only person who saw these guys."

"But I didn't!" he quickly argued. "They got me from behind and I closed my eyes before they even threw the first punch. I didn't see anything until the EMT tapped me on the shoulder to let me know I was still alive."

Derek sighed. "But you've seen them. You've told me about them before, and I think with the right questions, you'll be able to remember whatever it is you're repressing about their appearances so we can find them and put them away."

He sniffed, wincing. "Just you?"

"It's just me. Everyone else is talking to victims or in the conference room. I won't report anything back to them you don't want, and I'll keep anything not pertaining to this case between us. I promise."

He bit down on his lip. "No making me the victim."

"I won't. Do you want me to grab anything for you? Some lunch, groceries, anything?"

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's not a bother if I'm offering."

He thought to himself. "I'm running low on ice for my ice packs, so I could use a few bags. And I guess I wouldn't say no to some lunch?"

"No problem. I should be there in a half hour."

"See you then." He hung up quickly, exhaling, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was ahead.

When there was a knock on the door a while later, he jumped slightly, contemplating grabbing his gun from his bedroom.

He knocked again. "Spencer, it's Derek."

He sighed, pushing himself off the couch and limping over to the door. He checked the peephole to be sure Derek was alone before unlocking the door, pulling it open.

Derek stepped in. "Freezer?"

Spencer pointed to the kitchen, closing the door and locking it. He then walked back over to the couch, sitting down and pulling the blanket over himself.

"Do you need an ice pack?"

He bit down on his lip. "Two, please."

Derek filled them up, closing them and walking back to the living room, handing to them to Spencer. He quickly thanked him, putting one against his side and the other on his left eye.

"Thank you," Spencer said, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Not making me feel like I'm a victim the second you saw me. JJ did it. Hotch even did it." He bit down on his lip. "Hotch walked into the hospital room and gave me this look of complete pity, something I've never seen from him before. I respect him, but I hated it. Not to mention JJ had to take care of me the second she saw me. I appreciate someone treating me like a human."

"Anytime, Pretty Boy."

Spencer smiled slightly with a soft chuckle. "How about we stick with 'kid' or 'genius' for now?"

"For the look you just got on your face with 'Pretty Boy'? Hell no."

Spencer shrugged, wincing and rubbing his shoulder.

"I stuck some Indian food in your fridge, from that little place with the chicken tandoori you're always talking about."

"Thank you. How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it."

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip. "You wanted to do a cognitive interview?"

"I think it's the best way to get the information from you. Like I said, nothing you say that doesn't involve this case leaves this conversation."

He nodded, sighing. "The sooner this is over and I can feel safe again, the better."

Derek sat up straight. "Close your eyes."

He let his eyes slip shut, taking a deep breath and wincing.

"It's late, you leave the airstrip and go to the subway. You take the train and walk up the stairs of the station by your house. What do you see?"

He chewed on his lip. "Nothing. Nobody else is on the streets this late. All I see is the little light the street lights are giving off."

"Do you hear anything?"

"I… I hear yelling, like I usually do. Typical taunts and threats from behind me. Nothing that makes me stop. I just want to get home and get some sleep before work in the morning."

Derek smirked slightly, shaking his head. "What happens next?"

He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut painfully. "A set of hands grabs my shoulders and slams me into a wall, and another starts punching me. I close my eyes and push the pain away."

"Does it work?"

He quickly shook his head. "Derek, I don't want to be here right now," he said softly, his voice cracking.

"Okay, let's try something else." He thinks and shifts his position. "It's a night after getting out of work, just a regular day. You get off the same station and you walk home. Are they there?"

He nodded. "They're on a porch, watching me walk by."

"Do you look at them?"

He sniffed, nodding. "Very quickly. With the job, it's in our nature to take in our surroundings and look at anybody we see as a possible threat."

"Good, you're doing great." He reached a hand over, rubbing Spencer's arm. He quickly flinched, pulling away. "I'm sorry, Spencer-"

He shook his head subtly. "Continue."

Derek sighed. "You looked over at them, you saw their faces. You studied them. I need to know anything that you left out of the original profile. The first guy, you said he was white, below 6 feet, and mid 20's to mid 30's with brown hair. Is there anything else that sticks out?"

"He… he has a scar on his left eyebrow, looks like from a bar fight or something, definitely from a piece of glass. And… he has a tattoo on his right arm." He squeezes his eyes shut, biting down on his lip. "I can't tell what it is, but it's taking up most of his arm."

"Like a sleeve?"

A quick nod told Derek he was going in the right direction. He wrote down the description and looked back at the case file. "There's three of them. One of them was Hispanic, mid 30's and above 6 feet. He had no hair, and-"

"Tattoos," Spencer said quickly.

"What about them?"

"Left bicep and right wrist. I can't make them out, but they're small in comparison to the first guy's."

"What else?"

"He… his ears, they're pierced, but bigger, maybe like a gauge?"

Derek wrote this down and looked back at Spencer. "We're almost done, you're doing great." He was greeted by silence and sighed. "Finally, the third guy, you said he was probably the leader of the group. He's darker-skinned, mid 30's, in the lower range of 6 feet. You said he was bald, but is there anything else-"

"Several tattoos… one of them matches ones that the other two have. It's… it's a cross of some sort. I can't make out the details or the writing, but it's definitely a cross. And he has another one on the side of his head. A tribal symbol."

"Is there anything else about this guy that stuck out? Tattoos are great to identify, but every little bit is going to help, kid."

Spencer swallowed, nodding. "He has a limp, I'm not sure from what."

Relieved, Derek finished the descriptions. "You did a great job, Pretty Boy."

Spencer sniffed, taking a deep breath. "I need this to be over, Derek. Please. Find them."

He saw tears rimming his co-workers eyes and felt his heart break for the younger man. He held out his arms for him, and surprisingly, Spencer moved closer, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. He took a few hesitant breaths before doing what he needed more than anything: crying his heart out. Derek sighed, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing his back cautiously. "I promise you, Spencer, I'm going to find them and we're going to put them away."

"The… the odds of that ha-happening-"

Derek shook his head. "I don't need statistics right now. I need you to push that aside and just have faith in this team. They attacked all of us the second they laid a hand on you, and none of us are going to rest easy until you feel safe again." Spencer continued to cry on his shoulder and Derek just rubbed his back, waiting for him to let it all out.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling away and pulling the blanket over himself.

"It's obvious you needed that. Don't apologize."

He nodded slightly, putting the ice pack back on his eye, wincing.

"When's the last time you took something for the pain?"

Spencer looked over at the clock, sighing. "Seven hours."

"Do you want to get it yourself, or-"

"Could you, please? It's in my bedroom, right on my nightstand."

He got off the couch, patting Spencer's good knee before walking back to the bedroom. He came back a minute later with a glass of water and held out the pills to him. He popped them in his mouth, swallowing. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Before Derek left, Spencer bit down on his lip. "Derek?"

He turned around. "Yeah, Pretty Boy?"

"I… I know I'm not technically working this case, but can you please keep me updated on it so I can sleep at night?"

He shook his head. "Hotch isn't going to like it-"

"I know, and I'm sorry-"

"-And I don't give a single damn. I'll call you tonight if we find anything based on your descriptions."

He sighed, relieved. "Thank you."

He gave him a nod. "Take care of yourself."

"I will," he said, lying on his injured side. "There's a spare key under the mat. I never grabbed it… could you lock the door on the way out and take it with you? The team is more than welcome to stop by… you just need to call first."

"Consider it done. And kid? Garcia misses her Boy Wonder."

He looked somewhat satisfied and pulled the blanket over himself, reaching over and turning off the lamp.

Derek walked out, closing the door, grabbing the spare key, and locking it. He took his phone out of his pocket, dialing Hotch's number.

"Morgan, did you get anything?"

He started walking down the stairs. "Definitely. I think we're a hell of a lot closer to catching these bastards. We definitely have enough for Garcia to get us some results."

"Get back here as quickly as you can."

"I will."

"And Derek?"

He paused while taking out his car keys. "Yeah?"

"Great job."

Shortly after getting into work the next day, everyone gathered in the BAU room. Garcia quickly turned to Derek. "How is he?"

He stirred the sugar into his coffee, shrugging. "He's better than I thought he'd be, but I walked in expecting the worst."

"Did you tell him we miss him?"

He smiled slightly. "I made it known that we were there for him."

"Did anything pop up from his descriptions, PG?" Emily asked, hoping to change the subject.

"I'm glad you asked." She opened her laptop, turning it toward everyone. "Thanks to Derek, we got much better descriptions of these asshats, and one in particular showed up in our system." She clicked the mouse on one of her windows. "Everyone, say hello to dirtball number one, Anthony Lewis. The scar on his eyebrow that Boy Wonder described? From a bar fight last year that he started. Six stitches and a few nights in jail."

JJ's eyes shot over to her. "Where is he now?"

"He's on a work release, so if he wants to stay out of jail, he's currently picking up trash on the side of Interstate 66."

Hotch looked around at the team. "Dave, take Prentiss and go."

"But Hotch-" Derek started.

He looked over at him. "Dave and Prentiss will go, and that's final."

He sighed, leaning back in his seat.

"Any hits on the other two yet, Garcia? Hotch asked, turning toward her.

She shook her head. "Nothing yet, but they're going through the system as we speak."

He nodded, picking up the case file and walking back to his office.

Derek paced the conference room while Rossi and Emily were gone. He ran a hand over his scalp, sighing.

"Derek, calm down," JJ said, leaning back in her chair. "Stressing isn't going to do you any good."

He shook his head. "I'm not doing anything until we have this son of a bitch in custody."

"Didn't you tell Spence you'd keep him updated on what's happening?"

"Yes, but nothing has happened."

"I think the fact that we're getting one of his attackers in custody is significant."

"If he's even there," he argued.

"Considering he's one strike away from going back to the slammer?" Garcia started. "He's going to be at his work release."

He took out his phone, calling Spencer. "If I wake him, it's on you."

She shrugged. "I'll take it."

"'llo?" Spencer mumbled, head still buried in the pillow.

"I'm sorry, kid, did I wake you?"

"Uh-uh," he said with a yawn, "watching something."

He smirked. "Really, what's on?"

Spencer looked at the blank TV and groaned. "The inside of my eyelids."

Derek laughed softly. "Thought so. Should I let you go?"

"I'm fine." He sat up on the couch, taking a deep breath. "What's up?"

"Thanks to your description, we were able to find the first guy you described. Anthony Lewis, he goes by 'Tony', and he has a lot of marks on his record, including the bar fight you mentioned that left the scar on his eyebrow."

Spencer smiled to himself. "So he's on his way in?"

Derek looked over at JJ, who had a text on her phone. She smirked, giving him a thumbs up.

"Right now. We're a third of the way there, Pretty Boy. I promise, this is almost over."

He sighed, relieved. "Thank you."

"Do you need anything else?"

"I really don't want to be a bother…"

Derek shook his head, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on the table. "That's not what I asked you. I asked if you needed anything."

"Whatever it is, 187, I'll get it," Garcia spoke up, typing on her laptop.

"I had to order new glasses. My last pair was in my bag when," he cleared his throat, shaking his head, "I was wondering if somebody could grab them for me?"

JJ spoke up. "I'll do it. The mall's on my way home, I wouldn't mind swinging by. Anything else?"

"Derek already brought ice, but I wouldn't mind some frozen vegetables for my eye? The swelling's gone down, Derek can vouch for that, but it's still awkward holding an entire ice pack to my face."

"Consider it done. Is there a specific time I should be there?"

"It's not like I have anywhere to go?"

She shook her head. "I'll give you a call when I'm on my way. Get back to sleep, Spence."

He yawned slightly. "I'll see you soon."

She smirked, hanging up.

"Is he really better?" Garcia asked.

"From those pictures? Physically, yes. His eyes are a lot less swollen, the stitches for the most part are under his hairline so not noticeable, his split lip is mostly healed."

"How's his limp?"

He turned to JJ. "He didn't walk much, but from what I saw, he's not in too much pain."

She raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"The only injury that really seems to be bothering him is the shoulder, but that one's going to take a lot longer to heal."

"What about," Garcia started, pointing to her head, "you know."

He exhaled. "He's still scared, but I think he's in a better place than I would be. I can't elaborate. I promised him anything not pertaining to the case would stay between us."

She opened her mouth to speak but sighed. "Understandable."

Hotch walked in a few minutes later and their attention shifted up to him. Their eyes were all hopeful.

"We have him in custody, but he's not saying anything."

Derek groaned. "Of course not. Send me in there, Hotch. I'll get the answers out of him in no time."

He shook his head. "Dave's in there with him now. We can hold him for 48 hours and wait for him to say something-"

"And if he doesn't, he walks," Derek said. "There has to be another option."

"There is, but we can't do it." JJ explained.

Garcia raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Derek sighed. "Hotch, that's not happening."

"It could be the only way we can pin this on him."

Garcia looked between the two. "What?"

JJ sighed, getting out of her chair. "They want Spence to identify him as his attacker."

JJ pulled up to Spencer's apartment building, bags and key in hand. She walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. He sighed, sitting up on the couch.

"Spence, it's just JJ. I'm coming in."

He looked up and saw that he'd fallen asleep before he could put on the slide lock. He bit his lip. "Just you?"

"As if I'd allow anybody to tag along?"

He smiled slightly. "Come in."

She walked inside, putting the key in her pocket and closing the door behind her, locking it. "Feeling any better?"

He nodded. "It'll be easier to fill the void once I can read."

She smirked, handing him a case. "I'm sure those will help."

"Indeed." He set it on the table, pointing to the bag. "What's that?"

"Dinner." She put the bag on the table, sitting beside him.

He grabbed it, looking through. "…You really think I'm going to eat this much?"

She shook her head. "Of course not." She reached in, grabbing one of the trays and tucking her feet underneath herself. "This one's mine."

He smiled, grateful that she wanted to spend some time with him. "Did you just invite yourself to dinner?"

"Mhm." She opened her container, grabbing her fork and eating. "Get used to it."

She kept him engaged in small talk, hoping to avoid the elephant in the room.

"JJ?" he asked, setting down his plate.

She turned to face him. "What's up?"

He bit down on his lip. "Did you really find one of them?"

She set down her fork, chewing. "Yeah, Spence. He's at the station now. They're holding him for 48 hours-"

"But without any incriminating evidence or witness statements, the only thing you have to go on is one of the victims."

She sighed."Yeah."

"Anything yet? Don't lie to me, I'm a profiler."

She got up, picking up their plates and walking to the kitchen, throwing them away.

"So that's a no?"

She swallowed. "He's not talking yet, and we doubt he's going to in the next 43 hours."

"What can I do?"

"Stay here and heal up. Once you come back to work, we'd be happy to have your help on the case."

He groaned. "By then, he'll be out and they'll attack somebody else."

She walked out, handing him a pack of frozen peas. "Put that on your eyes."

Leaning back, he rested it over his eyes. "Please, JJ."

She pushed his hair back. "We'll make a deal."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"If we don't get anything out of him by tomorrow afternoon? I'll personally come get you to help."

"Is that a promise?"

She nodded. "Promise."

That night, Spencer laid awake, staring up at the ceiling. Part of him was extremely relieved that one of the people responsible for what happened to him was in custody. The other part realized that the other two would probably retaliate and harm another victim with him in custody, hoping to throw them off and make them think he was innocent. It was hard for him to get sleep, knowing that most likely, somebody else would be hurting as much as he is, if not more, just because he was able to give a description and get him in custody. Most of the night was spent staring at the ceiling, thinking of what he could do to help the situation. No matter what JJ said, they needed him.