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This was not how today was supposed to go.
You weren’t even supposed to be here.
The day had started much like any other- sleepy, slow. Lovely. Spencer tangled around you, his head resting on your chest. The sunlight streaming through the parted curtains, casting a golden glow across his perfect face. Your own personal angel.
Everything was as it should be.
Of course, it never stays like that for long. One phone call was all it took to end it, to interrupt this little slice of heaven. To yank you back to reality, back to monster-chasing.
Monster-chasing.
Nothing out of the ordinary. It was the same as every other case. Bone-chilling and adrenaline-inducing, but the same. Just one monster among many. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Until it was.
And now you were here.
It took you longer than you cared to admit to even recognize where exactly here was. A warehouse. A cold, empty warehouse.
But it wasn’t empty.
The latest victim was in the basement, barely alive. You had found her, had run directly to her. Crimson blood seeped into your clothing, your hand searching desperately for a pulse. It was faint- so faint that it was almost imperceptible. Time was running out.
And then a yell, ragged and urgent through your earpiece. It was a trap. A way to get you all in one place. The building was rigged. Rigged with C-4 explosives.
Time was out.
The woman next to you was fading, almost gone. She was so young. There was so much left for her to do. Her family was waiting at the precinct. You had told them you would get her back, that you would do everything in your power. You couldn’t leave her. You wouldn’t.
Vague thundering sounds rang throughout the building, voices in your earpiece. They were your teammates, your friends, your family. One by one they confirmed that they were out, that they had left the building.
Everyone was out. Everyone but you.
You couldn’t leave her.
There had to be a way out. Something. Anything. Your mind was racing, your heartbeat audible in your ears.
“Y/N, get out of there!” Hotch. Hotch was yelling, his voice cracking. The stoic, untouchable facade was fracturing. “Y/N!”
A door. There was one door on the far side of the basement. You ran toward it, your feet carrying you faster than you could think. Locked. Of course it was locked.
Back towards her. She locked eyes with you just once more before they fluttered closed again. The panic in them was gone. Now there was just nothing. Her wheezing had stopped, her pulse no longer registering.
Nothing.
“Y/N!” This voice wasn’t coming through your earpiece. This voice was right in front of you.
Tears blurred your vision. You blinked them away, only to see Spencer.
Spencer was right in front of you.
His hand was on your shoulder, the solidness of his touch the most tangible thing you had felt all day. Since that morning. How was it the same day as that blissful morning? How were you not in another time? Another dimension? Spencer knelt down beside you, shaking you out of your stupor. “We need to go.”
You shook your head. Logically, you knew he was right. Deep down, you knew it. But now- “No. I can’t- I can’t leave her.”
“She’s gone.” He grabbed your arm, pulling you up. “We need to go.”
You hesitated, but he had a tight grip on you. Another yank and you were stumbling, stumbling towards him. His hands never once left you, dragging you as you screamed. Screamed for the girl you were leaving behind, for the family who would never recover.
Screamed for yet another life that you had been unable to save.
Spencer kept moving, kept tugging you towards the stairs. The exit was just up the stairs, only a few yards away.
You were so close.
So close, and then-
A sudden blast from somewhere above you, the sound ricocheting through the basement. Your eyes met Spencer’s, the terror in them so clear that it felt like you could reach out. Reach out and touch it. Touch him.
But you couldn’t.
And just like that, your world was swept out from under your feet. Your hand was wrenched from Spencer’s, the force of the explosion ripping you away from him.
Flying. You were flying.
Until you weren’t.
Everything went black.
There was nothing.
Nothing.
And then- smoke.
It was the first thing that you noticed, blinking back into consciousness. It was everywhere, thick and black. Suffocating. Climbing into your lungs, making it impossible to breathe. To think. To do anything.
Spencer.
You needed to find Spencer.
Burning. Everything was burning. Flames crawled down the wall, licking at the wooden barrels that lined the floor.
You tried to pull yourself up, spots dancing in your vision. Something was on top of you, keeping you from moving. Steel and heavy, cutting through your pants leg. You blinked, staring down at the blood seeping through your pants.
You couldn’t feel it.
You couldn’t feel anything except the fuzziness pushing into your head. The spots were bigger, black and swimming. Swimming, swirling, all-consuming. They only grew when you reached for the beam in a fruitless attempt to push it off of you.
Spencer.
You needed to find Spencer.
“Spence!” Someone was screaming, yelling his name. It took you a moment to realize that it was you. Your voice was ragged, unrecognizable. You screamed again, his name catching in your throat, the effort making the spots in your vision dance.
Everything started to fade, fade back to black. Your eyes began to close, the heat from the flames creeping nearer and nearer. Everything was tilting, impossible to keep straight.
Something was touching you. Your hand, your shoulder, your face. Shaking you. The heaviness of your eyelids felt impossible to overcome, to blink away. A voice was ringing in your ears, coming from somewhere far away.
From another time. Another dimension.
One last heaving effort, and your eyes snapped open.
Spencer.
The voice was Spencer.
Ash covered his face, blood dripping from a gash above his eyebrow. His left arm dangled uselessly at his side.
But he was alive.
Then another voice. This one in your ear again. Hotch. Shouting your name, shouting Spencer’s. Panic cut through his words, the desperation in them palpable. He had no way of knowing if you were alive.
If he was speaking to a corpse.
“Hotch! Hotch, can you hear me?” You could just barely hear Spencer speaking above the buzzing noise surrounding you. “We’re stuck in the- in the basement. Y/N’s trapped.”
Hotch’s response was inaudible, the hysteria on Spencer’s face startling you more than the smoke, the fire, the pain. More than the darkness.
There was another bomb.
Spencer’s one good hand wrapped around the beam cutting into your shin, trying to pull it off of you. It barely budged, the movement sending a searing pain through your leg.
The flames were closer now, the smoke closing in on you.
Time was running out.
“You need to get out!” Hotch yelled again, his voice cutting through the haze, through the ringing.
Out.
Spencer needed to get out.
“Spence,” you wheezed, your hand reaching for his. “You need to go. Run.”
“No.” He tugged on the beam again, kneeling to put his weight behind it. Pushing it with just one hand, then his knee pushing against it. And still, no movement.
“Run!”
“I’m not leaving you!” Tears tracked down Spencer’s cheeks, leaving a trail through the ash. Hotch’s voice was in your ear again, but you couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear anything, see anything, feel anything.
All that was left was Spencer.
There was no telling how much time had passed, how much time was left. No knowing how long it would be before the end. Before nothingness.
You hoped it would be quick.
“Go.”
He said nothing, just shook his head. His stubbornness was always one of those things that you loved most about him. It just made him… him. But now you wanted to scream, to push him away, to shock him into movement. Anything.
Anything to save him.
“Spence. Go.” It came out a whisper, drowned out by the chaos that roared around you. The building would come down any minute now, be it by fire or explosion. Maybe both.
One last heaving push and suddenly there was a weight lifted. The beam toppled to the floor with a clang and Spencer’s hand found yours, pulling you upwards once more. You ignored the spots dancing in your periphery, ignored the throbbing pain throughout your body.
Out.
You needed to get out.
“Go!” Spencer yelled, pushing you towards the stairs. You ran, ran without stopping, without feeling, without thinking. Every step sent a dull shock through your leg, but there was only one thing that mattered. Spencer’s hand remained in yours, the two of you rounding the corner towards the exit.
Something was dripping down your face.
The door was right in front of you, just out of reach. Just a few more steps. You pushed through the rubble, through the flames.
It was stuck. Your shoulder met it, shoving it with such force that you almost flew back.
Again.
And again.
Then finally, it opened.
You were getting out.
The air hit your face, the freshness of it so starkly contrasting with the smoke that filled your lungs. You took one step, just past the threshold and then-
Another blast. This one was louder, closer even. The ground shook, the noise ringing in your ears. And once again, Spencer’s hand was ripped from yours.
You were flying again.
So much flying.
Too much flying for you to be on this earth. For you to still be alive.
And then you landed and there were arms around you. Someone was holding you up. You blinked, the figure beside you coming into clarity. Hotch.
It wasn’t the person you needed.
“Where’s Spence?” You were trying to shout, but there was no telling how loud your words were. You couldn’t hear them, could barely feel them in your throat. You tried again. “Where. Is. Spence?!”
Hotch’s response went unheard, but you saw his gaze turn back towards the building. The building that was on fire.
Beyond on fire.
It was consumed.
You were consumed. Another scream left your body, the force of it vibrating through you. You tried to push out of Hotch’s grasp, to run towards it.
To run towards Spencer.
But it was no use. Hotch’s arms wrapped around you more tightly, steadfast despite your elbows to his sides, your feet lifting off the ground.
Time froze as you screamed, yelled yourself hoarse. Firemen ran towards the building, hoses in hand. Towards Spencer. They were his last hope.
His only hope.
And all you could do was watch.
The last scream left your body, the energy from the adrenaline fading with it.
Something was dripping down your face again, from your nose. You reached up to wipe it away, blinking at the red liquid on the back of your hand.
“Y/N?” It was Morgan. You said nothing, the stars back in your eyes, the pain in your leg nothing but a distant memory. All you could see was the fire. All you could hear was the ringing of the explosion and Spencer’s voice, soft and sweet, saying Good morning, my love somewhere in the distance.
In another time. Another dimension.
“Hotch,” Morgan said this time. “Hotch! Y/N’s-”
You didn’t hear how his sentence ended.
You didn’t hear anything.
Everything started to tilt, to slide out from under you.
And then, black.
Everything was black again.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
***
The first time you woke up, you were underwater.
Your eyelids felt like they were glued shut, your body trapped in place. There was a vague beeping sound coming from somewhere far away. Somewhere under the water.
There was no sense of time, no knowing how long it took you to open your eyes. To come up for air. When you blinked, you finally realized. You were in a hospital.
People swam around you, but none that you knew or recognized. None that you needed. Someone was talking to you- a doctor- but you couldn’t hear them.
And then, just down the hall you could see them. Your team. At least, some of your team. They were crying, some unreadable form of despair etched across their faces.
They hadn’t realized you had woken up.
They didn’t realize until it was too late. Until you were screaming again. Screaming, kicking, trying uselessly to pull yourself off of the hospital bed. One foot off, the other trapped in some sort of sling.
The beeps of the machine beside you accelerated, growing louder, taking over everything. Taking over you. All you could hear was the beeping. The beeping and the screaming.
Faster, louder, all-consuming.
You didn’t sound like you. You didn’t sound human.
You sounded like a ghost.
The doctor grabbed hold of you, yelling something at someone just out of view. You pushed against them, but their grip just tightened.
Not again.
The team had just rounded the corner, had just entered the room. You locked eyes with Hotch, opened your mouth to speak, and then- nothing.
Everything went black again.
***
The second time you woke up, you weren’t alone.
Far from it, in fact. The team surrounded you- your team, your family. Everyone was there, huddled in that cramped room.
Everyone but Spencer.
They all snapped to attention as you tried to sit up, as you opened your mouth to speak. Someone’s hands were on you, pushing you gently back onto the bed.
Your head swiveled wildly, eyes scanning each person. “Spence?” It was all you could muster, the word barely a whisper, but they knew what you meant. Knew that you were asking if he was okay.
If he was alive.
Someone’s hand gripped yours. Morgan’s. You blinked up at him, desperately trying to rid yourself of the tears that threatened to fall.
“He’s gonna be okay.”
A breath, a sharp inhale of air, and the tears finally began to fall. And once they started, you couldn’t stop them.
You sobbed. Sobbed for the life that had been lost today, for the love that had almost been snatched away from you. Away from this earth.
He was still here. Still with you.
There was still time.
Morgan’s hand cupped your face, his calloused thumb wiping away the unending stream of tears. Another heaving, gasping breath and the last moments in the warehouse came back to you. Spencer’s hand in yours, the look of terror as you were ripped from one another.
You had done that.
If you had only left, if you had only listened, he wouldn’t have almost died.
Your sobs of relief turned into shrieks, the water pulling you back under. The high-pitched beeping took over again, growing more and more rapid.
It was so hard. So hard to think, to hear, to breathe. The fluorescent lights blinded you, the room beginning to spin. Someone was yelling, calling for a doctor. Hotch, maybe. You couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.
He was okay, but only in spite of you.
You had almost killed him.
***
The third time you woke up, there was a weight pressing on your chest. A warm, grounding weight. You reached up blindly, your fingers carding through soft, familiar curls. It felt like home.
It felt like Spencer.
Your hand ran through his hair once more, and he began to stir. He pulled himself up and you blinked, the room coming into focus.
Your world coming back into focus.
“Spence,” you said weakly, your hand reaching for his. His fingers laced with yours, almost like they had never left.
Like he hadn’t been ripped away from you twice already.
If it happened again, you weren’t sure you would survive.
You stared at him, taking in the person beside you. The wound in his forehead was stitched up, his arm nestled into a sling. A bandage was just barely visible from the collar of his hospital gown. All the ash and blood had been washed away, the remaining injuries the only proof that today had even happened.
The only proof that you had almost killed him.
He leaned forward, his lips brushing your cheek before whispering your name. Over and over, like a mantra. Like maybe it would save you.
Like maybe it already had.
Spencer’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, his grip on you unfaltering. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I thought- I,” his chest heaved, his jaw clenching with the effort, “I thought I had lost you.”
“Spencer. Spencer.” It was all you could say, all you knew how to say. He was still here. He was right in front of you.
“I’m right here, love.”
The way the nickname rolled off his tongue, the easy familiarity of it hit you all at once. You hadn’t been sure you would ever get to hear it again, ever get to hear his voice again. If you closed your eyes, you were still there. Still in that bed, in the soft morning light. There with your personal angel.
There would be more mornings now.
It had almost been the last.
It had almost been the end.
You blinked at him, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” A gasp, your breath catching in your chest. “I’m sorry, Spence.” You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” The tears were spilling out now, hot and heavy, the taste of salt stinging your dry lips.
“It’s okay.” Spencer’s hand left yours, coming to hold the side of your face. “Y/N, it’s okay. Everything’s alright. We’re both alright.”
You shook your head, the room starting to tilt again. “No, no. It’s my fault.” Another ragged gasp, the spots returning to your vision. “I almost killed you, Spence. It’s- it’s all my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
The beeping in the background grew faster again, the shrillness of it only making your panic heighten. Beeping, screaming, the crashing of the basement around you. The noises swam in your head, blurring into one another. The feel of Spencer’s hand being wrenched out of yours.
Not again.
“We’re both safe, Y/N.” Spencer’s hand reached for yours once more. Pulling you back to the present, back to each other. “Breathe, Y/N, just breathe.”
Another shake of your head, the tears still tracking down your cheeks. “My- my fault-” Another sharp inhale. “Almost- almost lost-”
“No.” He said it firmly, soft and soothing. His hand tugged yours towards him, out of the vice grip it had on the blanket. “Feel this?” He placed your hand on his chest, palm flat against the cool cotton. “Listen, love.”
A thump. And another and another. Steady and strong.
His heart was still beating, still there as sure and constant as it had been that morning. Just as it had been, the two of you curled up against one another.
You choked back your tears, finally catching your breath, the heaving coming to a slow cessation. Your hand remained on his chest, his heart just below your fingertips, a gentle drumming. Just as strong as the man it belonged to.
Just as alive.
“I’m right here. We’re both right here.” Spencer’s hand settled onto your own chest, just above your heart. “I’ve got you.”
Silence settled over the tiny hospital room, the two of you gazing at one another. His eyes met yours, brown and gold, shining with that familiar, warming love of his. Shining- a light in all of that darkness. Your light. The only thing that remained, the only thing that mattered, was you and him.
The sound of your hearts beating as one.
This.
This was how it was supposed to end.
Or, more accurately, how it was supposed to continue.