A Species of Madness, part 2/3, Reid/Rossi, R

[severity_softly]

Title: A Species of Madness, part 2/3
Author: severity_softly
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: R
Warnings: Drug use and references to past and present drug use, suicidal thought, lots of bad language
Pairing: Reid/Rossi
Word count: ~22,800
Summary: When Rossi finds Reid strung out on the streets, he decides he's going to make sure Spencer gets clean, even if he has to take matters into his own hands.
Notes: Super huge thanks to my awesome betas innerslytherin and resolucidity, who held my hand and encouraged me far more than I probably deserved. <3 them.

PART ONE


Spencer didn't come back that night. Dave wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or not. On one hand, God only knew what Spencer was doing, and he was driving. And if Spencer came back, Dave could make sure he stayed safe for the rest of the night, no matter what he'd gotten into already. On the other hand, Dave wasn't looking forward to seeing the state Spencer was in right now.

He stayed up for several hours in the living room before he fell asleep. He woke up early with a crick in his neck, slumped forward in his recliner. He made himself get up and get coffee, but he didn't make breakfast. He went for his cell phone and dialed Spencer's number, only to hear it ring from the other room.

"Damn it," Dave muttered, then scrolled to Hotch's number. He could have easily hit speed dial, but he knew calling Hotch could force Hotch to make a decision neither of them wanted him to, so Dave bought himself time scrolling.

He sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the phone, his thumb hovering over the call button... and then eventually put the phone down and dropped his head into his hands.

That was when he heard the car pull up the driveway. He got up and left his coffee and phone, and headed out the front door. Spencer was sitting in his car, which was undamaged, slumped against the steering wheel.

Dave was hit with a sudden wash of emotions, but even he wasn't sure which was stronger, the relief or the anger. He yanked the car door open, and Spencer's gaze snapped up, red rimmed. Dave grabbed his arm anyway, and dragged him to his feet. "Damn it, Sp--"

"I didn't do anything," Spencer blurted, his expression looking a little like he thought Dave might hit him.

Dave pushed Spencer against the car, then slammed the door and glared at him. "You didn't do anything?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "You stole my car. You were out all night. You look like shit. You obviously did something," he accused.

"I didn't. I-- I got a hotel room. I was going to... get something, but I didn't," Spencer insisted.

"Right," Dave said. He locked his car and pulled Spencer back inside the house. He realized as he was doing it that it was stupid. He obviously couldn't keep Spencer here. He couldn't help him if Spencer wouldn't let him.

Spencer didn't resist, though, and he sat down on the couch as soon as they were in the living room, looking nervous. "Can I have a glass of water?" he asked, still looking fearful.

"Get it yourself," Dave growled, and Spencer did. Dave had thrown himself in his chair when Spencer came back, the glass of water shaking in his hands. Dave watched them for a moment, then glared at Spencer again. "All right, enlighten me. What were you doing if you weren't doing anything?"

"Nothing," Spencer stammered. He took a long drink, then swallowed so hard Dave could here him. "I was... I went... I was going to get high... but..." He trailed off, hesitated, then took another drink of water.

Dave snorted. "That doesn't really answer my question."

"I was... not coming back here."

"You were gone because you weren't coming back here?" Dave said. "For a genius, you'd think you could make a little more sense."

"I got scared," Spencer blurted, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. "I can't-- I--" He drew in a shaky breath, then his eyes welled up.

Oh, God. Dave stared at him, not particularly pleased with the way the scowl on his face insisted on fading. There was no way he could look at Spencer Reid near tears and want to make it worse. Even if he felt like Spencer deserved it.

He crossed his arms over himself and looked away. It was easier to glare at the wall. It didn't look so much like a wounded puppy that needed to be cared for and nursed back to health. Damn Spencer Reid.

Dave sighed. "There's coffee, if you want some," he grumbled, and saw Spencer shake his head out of the corner of his eyes. "Oatmeal?"

"I don't know," Spencer said.

"Have you eaten at all since yesterday morning?"

Spencer silence was answer enough, and Dave got up and left the room, angry at himself for caring whether Spencer had eaten as he heated up some instant oatmeal.

When he got back to the living room, Spencer was sniffling, but seemed to have gotten his emotions back under control anyway. He took the bowl that Dave handed him and pushed the oatmeal around with his spoon.

Dave sat and watched him, and felt relieved in spite of himself when Spencer started to eat. He was taking tiny bites, but he made progress on the bowl as they sat in silence. His shoulders were hunched where he sat, not leaning back against the couch at all.

Dave sighed and dropped his head back against the back of his chair. God, what was he going to do? He wasn't even sure he believed Spencer hadn't done anything. That hurt more than anything.

"I got scared," Spencer said finally. When Dave looked back, Spencer's half-empty bowl was sitting in his lap, and Spencer was just staring ahead.

"Scared of what?"

"That you'd hate me," Spencer murmured, his voice thick with the tears he wasn't shedding.

Dave had no idea what to say to that. He could never hate Spencer, but didn't want Spencer to know that right now, if it meant he wasn't going to use because of it. Dave just watched Spencer, who fidgeted for a moment.

He put the bowl down on the coffee table, then crossed his legs and arms and sat back. A moment later, he shifted again, and curled his legs under him. "Do you-- are you going to kick me out?"

Dave blinked. "I was under the impression that you didn't want to be here, given how the last twenty-four hours have gone."

"I don't," Spencer said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Dave huffed a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. "But I don't want to be anywhere right now," Spencer added after a moment. "I don't want to be."

Dave frowned, and opened his mouth, but Spencer laughed, a bitter laugh. "You have no idea what that feels like, do you?" he asked, looking at Dave.

"How it feels to want to..." Die "...not exist?" Dave asked. When Spencer nodded, Dave shook his head. "No, I don't."

"I want to be left alone. I want to go escape everything I know. I want things to just be easy," Spencer said. "But... I... there's a needle exchange in DC. I bet you didn't know that." His eyes flicked to Dave's, then away, and he picked up his water. "I had it. It... My finger was on the plunger."

He made a vague gesture towards his arm with one hand, but the other started shaking so badly that he almost spilled his water. He put it down with both hands after taking a long sip.

"This is it."

Dave's chest was aching. "What's it?"

"This," Spencer said.

And that was all he said. Dave watched him. Spencer opened his mouth, then shut it again, and reached for his water. Spencer really hadn't done anything, had he? And he wasn't leaving again. God help him, if he left after giving Dave this song and dance, Dave might never forgive him; Dave wasn't going to be lied to and made an idiot more than twice. Spencer knew him well enough that Dave sincerely hoped he realized that right now.

Dave wasn't sure if he should ask anything else now that Spencer had gone quiet. He thought he understood what he was capable of understanding, even if what he understood was somewhat abstract.

"You should have come back last night," he said after a moment, his voice softening. "I almost called Aaron this morning."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "I would have deserved it."


*****


Spencer wasn't using, and that was all Dave seemed to care about. He didn't seem to care that Hotch had apparently noticed they were driving in together. And if Hotch noticed, the team probably did too. Dave just went about work as though nothing was unusual.

The team probably thought they were sleeping together.

Spencer didn't mind the idea so much. He'd always thought Dave was sexy. Except he would rather the team only think that he and Dave were sleeping together if it were true. At least if it were true, they could confront the way everyone seemed to be watching them. Right now the team had no clue what was happening, which was probably a blessing, but the looks Spencer and Dave were getting were still a little annoying. Morgan's especially, who seemed to be making Dave's life more difficult as soon as he realized Dave and Spencer were together in a more "recreational" sense.

Dave was taking it in stride, though. He seemed relatively pleased with their living situation when they weren't arguing. Of course, they were arguing a lot. Spencer felt like his skin might literally tear off. All the time. Like he might die if he didn't go out and score himself something to ease the way his head just wouldn't turn off.

Spencer wondered if the team was noticing that too, and what they thought it meant. He wondered if they were tying it to his and Dave's "new relationship", and that bothered Spencer too.

But they couldn't say anything.

Then again... Stop thinking, Spencer told himself. He tore his gaze away from where Prentiss, Morgan and Garcia were chatting in the kitchenette and looked back at his work. You could make this all disappear, he told himself. All the self-doubt. All the anxiety. You could shut this voice in your head up if you wanted. Shut me up, Spencer. Life would be simple again.

"Round table room in five," JJ's voice cut in on his thoughts. Spencer glanced up and gave her a half-hearted smile and a nod.

"Yeah," he said, and started putting things back in the files they belonged in. It made him think about how tidy Dave was... so he just stuffed them in his drawer without finishing the filing. He needed somewhere for his clutter to go, if Dave wouldn't have it.

He made his way up to the meeting room, and JJ briefed them on a case in a tiny town in Kansas, and told them wheels were up in thirty minutes, and then they were leaving to get their go bags.

Hotch touched Spencer's arm on his way out the door. "My office," he murmured, and Spencer swallowed hard and followed Hotch. "Shut the door," he said, and Spencer obeyed, then crossed the room and took a chair when Hotch gestured to it.

Hotch sat behind his desk and folded his hands on the surface. He started speaking slowly, his words measured. "You can't believe that I haven't noticed that something's changed," he said. Spencer just stared at him. "I wanted to make sure you were able to handle this case."

Spencer's mouth dropped open, and then he had to mentally clamp down on his anger. It had been difficult to control lately. It was like his entire emotional state had done a 180. He'd gone from relaxed on the drugs, to ready to bite people's heads off when he was no longer on them.

"Hotch, I'm fine," he managed after a moment, his tone more clipped than it probably should have been.

Hotch's eyebrows lifted. "Are you?"

"Yes," Spencer said.

"Why are you being this defensive, then?"

Spencer again opened his mouth, and then shut it. He had no idea how to respond to that honestly without just blurting out everything to Hotch.

Hotch nodded, and it made Spencer angry again, but Hotch's voice was very gentle when he continued speaking. "Please don't forget that I've seen you like this before. Last time, you almost got yourself killed. Do you remember what I told you on the jet on the way back?"

"You threatened to fire me," Spencer said, frowning.

Hotch nodded again, but looked unfazed. "I'll ask again, then. Are you sure you're able to handle this case right now? No one would think poorly of you if you took a break."

Dave would, Spencer told himself. Dave would think I was using the time away from him to get high. His thoughts broke for a moment, then when they resumed, there was a new tone. You could get high. No one would know.

Spencer sucked in a breath as a thrill went through him. It wasn't exactly fear. It was a strange combination of fear and loss... loss for the opportunity he was giving up if he went. When he'd gone and wound up in a hotel room that last night he'd tried to use, he'd had the desperate fear that if he didn't stop now, no one else was ever going to help him. It didn't do anything for the longing, though, the regret that lingered over making that choice.

"I'm fine," Spencer said.

Hotch watched him for a long moment, then just said, "See you on the plane."





The case was mostly a nightmare. Dave was thankful that he and Spencer wound up in adjoining rooms. He wasn't sure if that was an accident, or if JJ thought he and Spencer were an item and wanted to allow them a way to discreetly share a bed.

The idea was still incredibly tempting, but Dave told himself firmly that he didn't need to be seducing Spencer when he was in this state. He didn't need to be seducing Spencer at all, given the way that he was helping Spencer now. Their relationship was forever going to be altered by this.

They were gone for almost a week, and every night got worse than the one before. Spencer started coming in Dave's room earlier each night and raiding the mini-bar. Dave wondered if that was a good idea, but decided it was better than other things, and as long as Dave was there, Spencer wouldn't get in trouble. Or drink too much. Which usually wound up pissing Spencer off, but if Dave didn't want to work with an agent who was high, he was equally against working with one that was hung over. He'd heard somewhere a long time ago that someone with a hangover was just as likely to get in a car accident as someone who was drunk, and he figured those hand-eye coordination skill carried over.

On the fourth night, they cornered the unsub in an alley, and he took out three civilians before the team managed to put him down. It was not the ending they were hoping for, obviously, but it was better than nothing. Strauss was probably going to be all over Aaron, and Aaron looked miserable when they got back to the field office. Of course, Dave was sure he was blaming himself too.

Spencer slipped into Dave's room when they got back to their rooms, and just slumped in the chair across from Dave's bed. After a moment, he got up again and went to the mini-bar.

"Spencer, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Spencer looked up, his eyes narrowed. "Are we changing the rules?"

Dave huffed a laugh. "What rules?"

"I figured there must be some set of rules we were playing this game by," Spencer said. He put the mini-bottle back in the fridge and sat back down. Dave just went into the bathroom to change into his pajamas.

"You think this is a game?" he asked.

"Do you?" Spencer retorted.

Jesus, Spencer was difficult when he was like this. Dave wondered how much of it was on purpose and how much of it was that he was still on edge from being sober. It had only been a little over a week. "No," Dave said finally.

"Then you can't change the rules," Spencer said, sounding annoyed. When Dave came back out in his flannels, Spencer had a drink. He'd poured one for Dave too. "You especially can't change the rules on a day like this."

"Are you trying to drive me crazy, Spencer?" Dave asked.

"Not at the moment."

Dave watched him, then took his drink and sat on the edge of the bed, giving Spencer a small toast before taking a drink. "Should we establish rules?"

Spencer just shrugged, looking like he didn't really want to say yes.

"All right. Rule one, no drugs after tonight. Not even alcohol."

"Are you going to follow the rules too, or am I doing this alone?"

Dave blinked at him. Well, it wasn't really fair that he should have to stop drinking just because Spencer couldn't control himself. But Dave just couldn't say that. He wasn't sure why, and in fact, he was a little pissed at himself for it, especially when the next thing that came out of his mouth was, "Would it help if I did?"

"Yes," Spencer said simply, but he sort of got the feeling Spencer was just trying to spite him now.

"Fine," Dave said, biting down on the edge that wanted to creep into his voice. "No more scotch for me either."

"No matter how bad the case?" Spencer asked.

"No matter how bad." Dave shifted and took a long drink. He might as well enjoy his last damn drink. "You have to stay with me at all times. This means no skipping out on cases."

Spencer frowned. "Why would I--"

"Look, I know Hotch has been watching us. I have a pretty good feeling I know why he called you into his office. I don't want you to have any excuse not to have to look me in the eyes a few times a day. I don't really know a whole lot about what this shit you were doing does to you, but I know what you look like when you're not high."

For one thing, Spencer never looked quite so much like he wanted to hit Dave like he did now when he was high. Dave wasn't sure if that was comforting or not.

"You don't trust me?" he accused.

"You're here when you obviously aren't really entirely back to yourself," Dave said. "Do you trust you?"

"Fuck you," Spencer grumbled.

Dave rolled his eyes. "And it starts." Spencer glared, and Dave inclined his head. "No, please, go on. Get it all out, and then we can go back to what we were talking about."

Spencer looked like he might shoot Dave if he thought he could get away with it. Sometimes, even if it wasn't comforting, is was still sort of amusing.

"That it this time?" Dave said. "Okay. What else?"

"How about you not patronizing me?" Spencer snapped.

"How about you act in such a manner that it's not so damned easy?" Dave replied.

"Dave, you have no idea what I'm going through right now, so you can just can the holier than thou routine."

"Holier than thou? No. Maybe more level headed than thou. More sober than thou. More capable of rational thought than thou. But certainly not holy," Dave said.

Spencer clenched his jaw, then let out an exasperated breath. "God, you're so..."

"Yeah."

Dave shook his head and took another drink. Spencer downed his drink and made himself another, then he tossed another mini-bottle across the room to Dave.

"Anything else?" he asked.

Dave shrugged. "Should there be?"

Spencer shrugged too, and was silent for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. "It was a kid," he murmured.

Dave looked up, suddenly dragged back to earlier in the day. "Yeah," Dave said. "Sometimes we're too slow."

Spencer nodded, and Dave sat back in bed. He stretched out, leaning against the headboard and watching Spencer. After a moment, Spencer glanced up and looked back. "Hang on a sec," he said, then went into his room.

When he came back, he was wearing his own pajamas, and he slumped back into the chair. God, he was adorable. It was green and red flannel, and he looked like a kid ready for Santa.

Except, of course, for the deep frown on his face and the glass of whiskey in his hands.

"How does this work, Spencer?" Dave asked after a moment, holding up his glass.

"Huh?" Spencer said, and Dave shook the glass. "Um... ethanol is a potent central nervous system depressant, though the way that it affects people varies greatly by--"

Dave laughed. "That's not what I meant," he said, then his expression turned thoughtful again. "This doesn't... make you want to... you know...?"

Spencer laughed quietly. "It does. It's a substitute. But I'm, ah, it's not my drug of choice. It's nice to a point, but it doesn't feel as... clean. That probably doesn't make sense."

Dave watched him. It didn't make sense to him, but he wasn't going to say that. "This isn't going to turn you into an alcoholic, is it?"

"An addict is an addict is an addict," Spencer said, and downed what was left in his glass.

"That doesn't really answer my question," Dave said, watching him.

"It's different for everyone--"

"And yet 'an addict is an addict is an addict'?"

Spencer gave him a look. "At the core." Spencer shook his head. "A recovering junkie may start drinking because they think that because alcohol is legal, it's not as bad as what they were doing before. Physically, it's actually worse, but that's beside the point. The point is... what an addict does or doesn't do has more to do with how honest they are with themselves than anything else."

"How honest are you with yourself?" Dave said.

"Depends on the subject," Spencer said vaguely. Dave gave him a look, and Spencer sighed. "It's not a great idea for me to drink because it makes me crave other things, but in the long run, if I'm going to use, it won't be alcohol. I don't like the feeling as much."

Dave sighed. "We should stop."

"Too late now, and if this is the last time for a while..."

"Spencer," Dave said.

"What? I'm fine," Spencer replied. "Promise."

Spencer was very far from fine, and the last time Spencer had promised him something, he'd broken it... but Dave decided not to push it; he'd give Spencer another chance and hope he didn't regret it.

"It was a bad case," Spencer added.

"This is the last time."

Spencer nodded, and poured himself another drink, then Dave remembered the bottle Spencer had tossed him and poured for himself too. For a while, they drank in silence, and eventually, Dave turned the TV on. Spencer craned around in his chair to watch it. He couldn't have been interested at all. Dave had stopped on baseball. But Dave supposed it was easier for Spencer to pretend to be interested in the TV than talk about what they had been talking about.

After a while, Spencer cleared his throat, and Dave glanced over at him. Spencer gestured awkwardly at the empty side of the bed. "D'you mind?"

A thrill shot through Dave. Spencer was asking to share his bed. Somehow this was nothing like what Dave had hoped this would be like if it ever happened, but he still couldn't help the underlying excitement.

He shrugged. "Sure," he said casually, and Spencer grabbed two more bottles and crossed the room.

He handed one to Dave, then poured himself a new glass. His cheeks were rosy.

"They're just running around a circle," he said after a moment.

"Diamond," Dave said.

Spencer shrugged. "Could be a ruby for all I care."

Dave glanced over at Spencer. That was a bad joke, even for him. He was definitely already feeling the whiskey.

"Wow," Dave said. "A new low."

Spencer snorted. "Shut up."

That was better than 'fuck you' at least. Dave found himself smiling faintly, in spite of being extremely aware of how close Spencer was. "Give me that," Dave said, and took Spencer's glass. He downed the contents before Spencer could stop him, then did the same to his own.

"Hey," Spencer complained.

"You don't need anymore until your stupid jokes are at least halfway intelligent again."

Spencer gave him a grumpy look, and slumped, turning back to the TV. "Oxymoron. Stupid jokes that are intelligent."

"Bad jokes, then," Dave said. and shook his head, putting their glasses down.

Spencer nodded. "That at least makes a little more sense."

Dave made a wordless noise, then turned his attention back to the game. They didn't really say anything after that. The fifth inning passed, then the sixth. Then at the start of the seventh inning, Spencer's weight pressed against Dave's shoulder.

"Spencer," Dave said, but quickly realized Spencer was asleep. Shit.

Dave's heart started pounding in his chest. Spencer was asleep in his bed, pressed up against him. Dave shifted a little, but didn't go far, not wanting to wake Spencer. He wasn't sure why, exactly. That's what he should do. He should wake Spencer up and take him back to his room.

But Dave didn't really want to do that at all. He wanted to settle them both down and sleep like this, with Spencer in his pajamas, pressed up against Dave. Dave tried to tell himself it was because he felt like he was charged with protecting Spencer lately, but he knew that wasn't really the reason.

"Mmm," Spencer mumbled, then shifted down onto the mattress himself.

"Spencer," Dave said again. He was going to do the right thing if it killed him. If Spencer woke up on his own, that was. "Spencer."

"Shh," Spencer whispered. "Quiet."

Dave stared down at him for a long moment. He supposed he could go sleep in Spencer's bed. Or on the couch. But after some thought, Dave flipped the TV off and settled down next to Spencer. Spencer was in his damn bed. And Spencer had gotten drunk knowing full well where he was.

Dave watched Spencer for a moment, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the calm to his features that was never there lately. He really was beautiful, just like Dave had told him, and it wasn't just his mind that was beautiful.

Get out of this bed right now, he told himself, but instead he just closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way this felt good and the guilt that accompanied that feeling.




Spencer woke up with a mild headache and a dry mouth... and the heat of another body next to his. A thrill of panic when through him. What had he done? He'd blown it. He'd fucked up. He-- was lying in bed with David Rossi.

Spencer blinked at the back of Dave's head for a long moment. I'm lying in bed with Dave. His heart was still thudding against his chest, the fear that he'd gone out and gotten high again still lingering, even now that he knew that wasn't the case. Slowly the events of the night before started filtering in.

Rules. Whiskey. Baseball.

He hadn't been drunk, but apparently he'd been tired and Dave hadn't bothered to wake him up. Spencer had to admit that waking up with someone he knew would never hurt him, someone who knew him and liked him, was nice. He just wasn't sure if this would be awkward when Dave got up.

He slipped out of bed, and cleaned up the empty mini-bottles that were lying around. Dave hadn't even done that. It was strange, but Spencer didn't spend too much time thinking on it. Instead, he went into the bathroom and started the coffee maker, which he quickly discovered was broken.

He slipped into his room and dialed the front desk so he didn't wake Dave, but when they knocked on the door with a new one, Dave stirred.

"Thanks," Spencer told the girl, then turned to look at Dave. "The pot was cracked," he explained. Dave just blinked at him blearily, then closed his eyes again.

"Time'sit?"

"Nine-ish," Spencer said. He watched Dave press his face to the pillow. "Sorry I crashed here."

Dave just made a muffled noise into the pillow and flapped a hand dismissively.

Spencer turned back and watched the coffee brewing, dark liquid dripping into the carafe. He could hear Dave shifting in the covers, then Dave groaned. When Spencer turned back, Dave had swung his legs over the edge of the bed and was rubbing his eyes. His hair was a mess.

Dave didn't have his gun on him, but Spencer was pretty sure if he told Dave he looked adorable, Dave would find his gun and use it.

"You take it black, right?" Spencer muttered, and Dave made a noise that Spencer assumed meant yes. He poured them both a cup, and used Dave's sugar and creamer packets in addition to his own. When he walked back in the room, Dave grunted his thanks as he took the cup.

"And I thought I had trouble waking up," Spencer said. Of course, he'd woken up in a state of sheer terror, so that had helped a lot.

Dave arched a brow. "D'it bother you that much waking up with me? Promise I was a gentleman."

Spencer snorted, but didn't say anything. He didn't want to say why he was awake as he was, and telling Dave that chivalry was optional wasn't going to happen.

"Maybe the next rule should be that we shouldn't share a bed anymore unless we plan to do something to make all those looks we've been getting actually mean what their meant to mean."

Dave frowned. "Come again?"

"I haven't come to begin with," Spencer said, and then immediately felt his cheeks go hot. God, this was David Rossi. This was his colleague, his friend, and in some respects, his mentor. This wasn't some sickly junkie he'd woken up next to that he could pretty much say whatever he wanted to.

Dave was just staring at him, and Spencer scrubbed a hand over his face. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm-- it's early."

"I would ask who you are and what you did with Spencer, but considering the reason I dragged you into my house, there's obviously a lot about you I would have never expected," Dave said.

Spencer cleared his throat. "Do you regret learning it?"

Dave tilted his head. "I regret the circumstances," he said.

Spencer swallowed hard and nodded, not really sure how he should take that, or how he should respond. They just sat in silence and drank their coffee for a while. Eventually Spencer flipped on the news, and Dave settled back in bed to watch. The plane didn't leave until noon. The team had all been out so late the night before, they just wanted to crash and worry about flying home later.

Spending the first day of their weekend in a tiny hotel in Kansas really wasn't ideal, but none of them had the energy to be in a hurry home. Only JJ had left the night before to go be with Henry.

Spencer didn't really feel like leaving the room, but he knew eventually he should. He sighed and pushed out of his chair. "There's more coffee," he said, then went back to his room. Dave looked up from his coffee, watching him, but he didn't say anything to stop him.

He found himself feeling oddly alone when he closed the door behind him. Well, he was alone, but he just hadn't expected the feeling to hit him quite so fast. He flopped onto his still-made bed, and flipped the TV on. Then he huffed a laugh. He could have just as easily watched the news with Dave.

He's making you live with him. Enjoy being away from him, he thought, then added a Bastard, for good measure.

He had been staring at the TV long enough for one show to end and another to begin when there was a knock on his door. Spencer sighed and got up. When he opened the door, Morgan was on the other side with two cups of coffee.

"Hey," Spencer said, knowing he looked confused. He took the coffee anyway. Morgan knew just what he liked.

"Hey, man," Morgan said, inviting himself in. "Plans for breakfast?"

Spencer shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair. "They serve breakfast here, don't they?" he said.

"If you haven't gotten it, you missed it. Ended at 9:30."

"Ah," Spencer said. "No, I don't have plans. You?"

"I was planning to take you out, if you can find it in you to put on some real clothes," Morgan said, grinning.

Spencer sat on the edge of the bed, then sipped his drink. It was perfect, chocolaty and creamy. When he glanced up, he realized Morgan's smile had faded. Spencer frowned, then realized Morgan was staring at the comforter, which was still folded neatly up under the pillows. His eyes flicked to the door between Spencer and Dave's rooms next, then his lips pressed together into a thin line.

"I have some real clothes," Spencer said, sipping his drink again and not meeting Morgan's gaze.

"Are they in here?" Morgan asked, and Spencer looked up to see Morgan was just waiting for Spencer to have to go in the next room to grab his things.

God, he hated this. He couldn't explain, and Morgan was probably thinking he was keeping things from him. Well, he was, but not what Morgan thought. It was amazing how some of the best trained profilers could get things so totally wrong. Of course, Spencer imagined that his friends would probably rather think Spencer was getting laid than think he was a junkie.

"Yeah," Spencer said finally. "Most of my things are already packed, actually." He never unpacked his things in a hotel room. He preferred to just live out of his bag, if it was a short case. "It won't take me long at all," he added, and got up to go to the bathroom and change.

When he came out, Morgan was hunched over on the bed, looking somewhere between hurt and angry. Spencer hoped this wasn't going to be a painful breakfast. "Ready," he said, and Morgan glanced up.

"What do you want, kid?" Morgan asked, and Spencer's heart sank a little. Morgan never called him 'kid' anymore unless he was trying to distance himself.

"Pancakes?" Spencer said.

Morgan nodded. "And more sugar for my man," he said, and wrapped his arm around Spencer as they left the room.




Spencer was waiting for the questions to start once he and Morgan got to the restaurant, but Morgan actually waited a surprisingly long time. He was letting Spencer go on about the archaeological history of the town they were in, though, which was a sure sign that he was just letting Spencer relax before he jumped. Knowing that didn't really help Spencer relax.

They were nearly done eating when Morgan finally said, "So are you ever going to tell me about Rossi?"

Spencer froze for a moment, then reached for his coffee. What was there to tell? What could he tell? He trusted Morgan with a lot of his troubles, but Spencer wasn't even fond of the idea that even one of his teammates knew the sort of state he was in.

Spencer finally shrugged. "There's really nothing to tell," he said.

Morgan gave him a flat look. "You didn't sleep in your own bed last night," he said bluntly.

Spencer's lips parted, and then he shook his head faintly. "We were talking and I drank too much. He didn't want to wake me up."

"Well, that's sweet of him," Morgan said, his tone taking on a slightly sarcastic tone. "C'mon, man. You can't tell me your relationship with him hasn't changed, and everyone knows that."

Spencer swallowed hard. "Yeah," he admitted.

"You should know I don't give a damn if you like guys," Morgan said.

"I know." And Spencer did know that. Spencer felt okay that so far he hadn't had to outright lie to Morgan, even if he wasn't exactly telling the whole truth, just letting Morgan draw his own conclusions.

Morgan tilted his head. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

Spencer bit his lip. That was one he didn't feel like he could answer truthfully, so he just shrugged and shifted in his seat.

Morgan watched him for a moment, as if gauging how uncomfortable Spencer was. After a moment he sighed. "Is he good to you?"

Spencer looked back up from his coffee and stared at Morgan for a moment. Was Dave good to him? There were times lately that Spencer sort of hated Dave... but that wasn't really Dave's fault, if Spencer was completely honest.

Spencer took a long sip of his coffee, and put it down, fiddling with the glass for a moment. "Yes."

Morgan nodded slowly. "Good," he said. "That's all I care about."


*****


The whiskey had been a bad idea. A worse idea than Spencer had expected. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time. Alcohol was not his drug of choice. He didn't like the feeling of being drunk as much as he did being high... but the sedating effects of the liquor had been nice. It had let his mind go for a little while, enough so that he felt comfortable enough just sleeping in Dave's bed.

For a few days after, Spencer was totally fine, too. But somewhere in the middle of the week, Spencer started to find himself feeling twitchy again. He couldn't go out and score anything, but he was getting home earlier than Dave most nights. He could have a few sips of alcohol if he wanted. Just enough to take the edge off. It was against the rules, but rules were made to be broken.

Somehow he didn't think Dave saw it that way, but he didn't really feel like thinking about it right now. He didn't really feel like thinking right now at all. That was the problem, really, even on a very basic level.

You're broken. You're a parrot, spouting off facts, when nothing's really inside but this hole. Numbness wasn't the best thing to fill the hole with, but some days it seemed like the only thing he could think of.

Spencer was taking the VRE home so he didn't have to wait on Dave's paperwork (and fanmail reading), and it was only a short walk to Dave's house from the closest station. About a week after the case in Kansas had ended, Spencer found himself going straight to the drinks cabinet on the way in the house.

He stared at it for a moment. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's just a drink."

He opened the cabinet door and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He sighed. He had promised Dave than he wouldn't drink or do anything else. And the last time he'd promised Dave something, he'd broken it.

He stood there and tried to remember the fear he'd felt the night in the hotel room, the fear that Dave would never forgive him. If he broke another promise, Dave probably wouldn't this time.

Spencer opened the bottle and lifted it, taking in a long whiff of the bitter-smelling liquid inside.

If you don't get caught, he'll never know you broke your promise. He's probably been drinking when you're not here anyway. Sure he has. He thinks he can just make you think he's playing along, but you know him better than that.

Spencer sighed and put the bottle down. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then reached for the cabinet door to get a glass. When he put it down and picked up the bottle, something caught his eye. He lifted it to look, and found a black line drawn horizontally on one side of the label.

When Spencer put the bottle down, he realized Dave had marked it at the exact level the alcohol rose to.

Spencer clenched his teeth, anger surging through him, then slammed his fist against the table top. "Fuck," he hissed. Dave didn't trust him?!

He put the glass back hastily, then threw open the cabinet drawer to put the bottle back, slowing for a second to make sure he put it back exactly the way he'd found it. When he stood and shut the door, he had to resist the urge to kick it in.

Dave didn't trust him. You don't deserve his trust. Dave thought he was going to break their rule. You were going to break the rule. Dave thought he couldn't control himself. You can't.

"Fuck," Spencer growled. "I can." He ran his fingers through his hair and tightened them until it hurt his scalp. "I can."

Dave doesn't trust you. He's right not to.

"Shut up," Spencer said. "God, I'm talking to myself."

If you drank every last drop in the cabinet, you could probably be dead before he came home.

Spencer growled and tugged his hair again, as if the pain might make the thoughts in his mind stop. But it didn't work.

This would be over. It would all be over. You wouldn't have to struggle. He wouldn't have be your fucking warden. You could be free of all of this.

"No," he said, but now his eyes were stinging. "No," he repeated, then walked down the hallway. "Mom. It would kill her. The team would be fine without me, but I'd always be the tragic one. 'Isn't it so sad'. I don't want that.... Might make Dad finally regret not knowing me, though," he finished bitterly, then shook his head. "No. Mom matters more."

He started stripping off his clothes as soon as he got to the bedroom, and turned on the bath water as hot as he could stand it.

"It might hurt," he said after a moment. "But it would be over fast." He groaned. Somehow he kept trying to justify killing himself when it was the thing he was trying to keep from doing.

At the last second, Spencer walked back out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, hoping to God Dave wasn't going to come home and find Spencer walking around naked. He grabbed a bag of chips and started to leave, then turned back for some of the hard candy Dave had in a bag in the pantry. He grabbed a Coke, and went back down the hall, locking himself in the room, and then in the bathroom.

You could drown yourself, but that might take too much effort trying to suppress the natural urge to get up when you start to panic.

"Shut up!" Spencer finally shouted, and pressed a hand to his eyes. God, he was going crazy.

He shut the water off, and climbed into the tub, belatedly wishing he'd thought of bubbles. He set his Coke and the candy on the edge, the chips on the floor, and started furiously unwrapping the little sugary pieces and popping them into his mouth.

After chewing up about four, he popped another one in his mouth and closed his eyes. The warmth of the water was starting to soak up some of his anger and frustration, and as cliche as it sounded, he somehow thought the sugar helped.

He slipped below the water, and stayed there, his body swaying a little with the movement of the water.

You could still drown yourself. You're a genius. You could out-think your panic until you passed out.

He hesitated, then shook his head slowly in response to his own thoughts. His hair floated across his eyes, and he pushed up out of the water again.




Dave got home later than usual, but when he got there, he found Spencer just sitting in front of the TV with a bag of Doritos. A bag that hadn't been opened yesterday, but was mysteriously almost empty now.

"I'm glad I didn't pick up supper," he said, and Spencer just made a noise that didn't seem to mean anything and shrugged.

"Oh really?" Dave said, and Spencer glared.

Dave was getting sick to death of the glaring. Spencer seemed to have two modes lately, snippy and sulky. Dave made a face and went in to the kitchen to find he was low on Cokes too. He sighed, but didn't comment this time, and started making himself something to eat.

Spencer hadn't moved when he came back to the living room, and Dave gestured at his recliner. "This seat taken?" he asked.

Spencer snorted, but didn't say a word.

"You know, I always have enjoyed my own company, but a little communication would be nice, considering you're sleeping in my house and eating all my food."

Spencer sighed. "How was work?"

Dave rolled his eyes and looked at the TV. Spencer knew damn well how work had been. If Spencer wasn't even going to try, neither was Dave, so he just sat there and ate. Spencer didn't seem the least bothered by the silence.

After a while, Spencer curled up on his side... then got up again to throw away the bag of chips. He came back with a Popsicle. "I'll pay for them, if it's money you care about."

Dave shook his head. Quite frankly, it was nice to see Spencer start to put on a little weight. He was already looking healthier than he had before.

"I don't really care," Dave said. "But if you eat the last Fudge Round, I'm going to have to strangle you."

Spencer huffed a laugh, then continued eating his Popsicle. He didn't speak for a while, and Dave had nearly given up on the prospect of any real conversation for the night when Spencer finally did.

"I didn't ask for this," he said.

Dave blinked at him for a moment, then said the first thing that came to mind, even if he didn't think he knew what Spencer was talking about. "Grape is my least favorite. It's what you're stuck with."

"Stop being obtuse." Spencer shifted onto his back and looked at Dave.

"Didn't ask for what? Living here? Yeah, I know," Dave said.

"There's that," Spencer said, and sighed. "Drugs. This whole thing."

"I don't think anyone ever does," Dave said, perking up a little mentally. He always wanted to make sure he was really listening, in top form, when Spencer started to talk about these things.

"Some people do," Spencer argued. "Some people go out and look for drugs. Some people want it."

"And what do you think you've been doing?" Dave asked, frowning.

"No, I meant at first," Spencer said. "I never wanted this. I never would have tried anything like this on my own. I know what it does to you. To me... It's not fair."

"Spencer, you chose--"

"No, I didn't," Spencer snapped. He sat up and gave Dave that piercing look Dave was getting used to. "I didn't. I had-- My blood... my veins were raped. I was forced."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dave said, his heart starting to ache a little.

"Tobias Hankel? You've heard of him?" When Dave nodded, Spencer went on. "I was the agent he took. He did this to me."

Dave shook his head. "You're shifting the blame."

"You don't know," Spencer insisted. "You don't know, David. I was there. I died. If I had just..."

"You died?" Dave said.

"Yes, I--"

"So you decided to see if you could do it again? Jesus, Spencer--"

"I didn't do it!"

"But you kept doing it," Dave snapped, glaring. "You kept doing it, Spencer, and you're smart enough to know that you had a choice."

Spencer looked halfway between screaming and throwing up.

"Yeah, I know, fuck me," Dave grumbled.

"It's not my fault," Spencer said after a long silence, his voice going small suddenly. "Just... all this stuff. I just kept remembering all this stuff, and then I came back, and I kept seeing myself in all our victims, and I..."

"That's not a very good reason to screw yourself up so badly that you can't help them," Dave said.

Spencer pressed his lips together angrily and shook his head. A second later, and he had to quickly lick off Popsicle juice that was running down his finger.

"It's a good reason to want to escape," he said after a moment.

"Hey, guess what? You're not the only one who wants that sometimes."

"I would have been fine if--"

"Who cares?" Dave asked, and Spencer gaze snapped back up to him, his eyes half stunned and half angry. "Who cares what might have happened? The ifs don't make a damn bit of difference now. I'm not going to sit here and say 'oh, what tough luck'. We play with the cards we're dealt."

Spencer stared at him for a long moment, then laid back down, looking completely unhappy. "I always cheat."

Dave huffed a laugh. "Well, you can't this time."


*****


The next morning, Spencer was surlier than usual. He barely said a word as they ate and got ready for work. The drive to the BAU was nearly silent as well, until they got a few blocks from the parking garage.

"Are you going to ignore me all day?" Dave finally asked.

"As much as possible," Spencer said.

"What grave sin did I commit this time?" Dave said.

Spencer's lips thinned but he didn't say anything. Dave had a feeling he knew anyway. Dave hadn't let him justify his behavior the night before. He hadn't approached the conversation with sympathy.

It wasn't as though Dave didn't care. It's just that he knew this wasn't a situation where babying someone would do any damn good. He might as well just tell Spencer that he understood now and he could go back to the drugs if he wanted because it all made sense, if he was going to coddle Spencer. It would send the same message, even if Spencer knew damn well Dave didn't want him using. It would say, indirectly, that Dave would forgive him if he used again, because now he understood.

Dave understood perfectly well. He understood that Spencer knew just how to manipulate people if he wanted to. He knew Spencer probably knew how to use those puppy eyes. He knew that people wanted to protect him. And because he knew that, he expected people to go soft on him.

That wasn't going to happen. It was tough love or nothing.

Dave made an unhappy noise when they parked. "Well, put your game face on. It's work time," he muttered, and he saw Spencer turn to look at him. If Dave turned around, Spencer would be glaring, but Dave didn't bother to look.

"Have I mentioned how much I like being told how to act?" Spencer said.

Dave shrugged. "It was a lucky guess."

Spencer held a frustrated noise badly, then grabbed his satchel and got out of the car. He followed Dave up to the office wordlessly, and then they both split off in different directions when they came in. Dave headed to his office, and Reid for his desk, and Dave knew they both probably looked angry. He saw both Aaron and JJ watch them for a moment before going back to what they were doing.

Dave shut himself in his office most of the day, coming out for coffee and to talk to Emily a few times. Hotch grabbed him on his way back to his office on one of those times he headed back.

"Yeah?" Dave said when Aaron called his name. He poked his head in to see Hotch watching him. He didn't say anything for so long that Dave glanced back out the door. "Should I come in and shut this?" he asked, looking back.

Hotch shook his head slowly, then his eyes darted to the bullpen--to Spencer--and back to Dave. "I just wanted to say thank you."

Dave blinked at him. Then he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

"He's looking better," Hotch said, his tone quiet and conversational. "Much."

Dave just stared another moment, then nodded. "Yeah," he said.

Aaron nodded. "That's all I had to say."

Dave watched him for another long moment, then nodded back and walked back to his own office. He couldn't help that Hotch's words lightened him a little. Maybe that was the point. The tension today was probably obvious.

But Spencer was doing better. He was being a little shit, but otherwise he was okay. Dave took a moment to wonder if anyone else on the team could have even put up with living with Spencer through this.

Of course, that led to dangerous thinking, that they were good for each other. Dave shook himself and went back to work. Once he'd put those thoughts out of his mind, his mood started to lift.

He's looking better.

God, it was ridiculous, given Dave's age and the fact that Dave had known Hotch when he was still green, but there was still something very special about a compliment from Hotch, particularly where it mattered.




The next time Dave went down from his office for coffee, he was half-smiling in spite of the fact that Spencer was at the kitchenette. Dave slid up to the counter and reached across Spencer for a sponge to clean out his cup.

"Excuse you," Spencer hissed.

Dave just snorted, but as he moved around the other side of Spencer, he caught a whiff of something. His smile slipped off. "Have you been smoking?" he asked.

Spencer froze for a half-second, then badly hid it and turned to face Dave. "What?"

"You've been smoking," Dave said, because now he was sure it was smoke he was smelling, and it wasn't faint enough for Spencer to have just been around someone smoking.

Spencer hesitated, then shrugged. "So?"

"So?" Dave repeated under his breath. "Are you determined to find some way to kill yourself?"

Spencer scowled. "Fuck you."

"Damn it, Spencer, have you ever noticed you usually say that when I've caught you in something you can't defend?"

Spencer looked about ready to throw back a retort, but then just gave Dave an angry look. "I needed something to calm me down, and since I'm not allowed to do anything else, per the rules, I--"

"Tobacco isn't a drug now?" Dave said.

"F--"

Dave lifted his eyebrows, waiting for the '--uck you', but it didn't come.

"What do you want from me, David? I'm doing the best I can," Spencer said, his voice a little louder.

"I want you to try to--"

"I am trying," Spencer snapped, and this time an intern near them turned to look.

Dave clenched his jaw. "We'll talk about this at home," he said.

"Oh good, home," Spencer said, and stormed off to his desk. About three seconds later, he realized he forgot his coffee and stormed back, but with that, the effect he had obviously been going for was lost.

Dave didn't fail to notice the way Morgan and JJ were watching Dave when he left the bullpen, though. They seemed to lapse into some heated conversation once he got far enough away, and Dave headed up the ramp.

Dave barely stopped himself from slamming the door. If he wasn't trying to save Spencer's life, he'd kill him. They'd made a damn spectacle of themselves in front of the team, and he'd be lucky if he didn't wind up hearing about it from Hotch later. There went Hotch being proud of what Dave was trying to do.

There was a brisk knock at Dave's door a few minutes later. It hadn't been nearly long enough for Dave to have even begun calming down.

"Damn it," Dave grumbled. And there Hotch was now. "Come in," he groused, and the door opened and shut. He wasn't looking up from his desk, but there was a presence that was distinctly not Hotch standing just inside the door. When Dave glanced up, it was JJ standing there.

"Can I have a word with you?" she said.

Dave couldn't help the way he just stared at her for a moment. "Sure," he said finally, then gestured to a seat in front of his desk. JJ didn't move.

"What's going on with you and Spencer?" she asked abruptly.

Again, Dave found himself just staring at her.

"You have to know everyone is going to be talking about what just happened soon, and I think we should know what's going on."

Dave shrugged. "I've never really concerned myself with gossip before, JJ, and I don't plan to start now," he said.

"Don't avoid my question," she said.

He frowned. "I'm not entirely sure why it's anyone else's business," he said, watching her.

"I like you, Dave. We all like you, but frankly, we're all aware of your reputation."

Dave really wished she'd stop saying things that he had no idea how to respond to. "Come again?"

"I'm not saying this because I care about any of that. What I care about is that... you had better be treating Spencer the way he deserves."

Oh God, everyone still assumed this was about sex, didn't they? Dave's eyebrows lifted. "Am I getting the 'what are your intentions?' speech?" he asked. Oh my God.

"It's not funny," she said.

"Oh, you have no idea how funny it actually is," Dave said, and couldn't help that his lips quirked a little. "Next there's going to be 'if you hurt him, I swear to God, I'll kill you' threats, right?"

Her jaw clenched. "Keep going and I might make that threat without that sort of motivation."

Dave held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not hurting him. Ask him."

"I can't ask him," JJ retorted. "He's... he'll feel like I'm trying to mother him."

"Aren't you?" Dave said, and she gave him a look.

"He doesn't need to know it. At least not when it comes to something he seems to be trying so hard to keep secret." She tilted her heard at him. "I'm not sure why you two do keep it secret. It's not like anyone cares. Actually, I think people would be less on edge about it if you two just came out with it."

JJ, Emily, Morgan, Garcia, Reid's a drug addict and I'm making him live with me until he cleans up, Dave thought, vaguely amused. No, that really wasn't an option. He couldn't really ignore the way the idea that no one would mind if he was with Reid romantically excited him a little.

"You don't know the whole story," he said finally.

"Enlighten me."

"Not my story to tell," he said.

She made a noise that didn't sound very satisfied. "I used to think you and Emily bickered like an old married couple, but now I think she has some competition."

"I'm sure she's heartbroken."


PART THREE