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Spencer whimpered slightly, a short yell of terror dying on his lips. His dorm room was empty, and a jolt of fear ran through his small body. He didn't want to be alone.
He wasn't safe if he was alone.
Logically he knew he was safe. He was over one thousand eight hundred miles from Vegas, they wouldn't find him at St Thaddeus', but logic did nothing to override the coarsing terror shooting through his veins and making him tremble.
He wanted to be safe, he just wanted to be safe.
With shaking hands the nine year old clutched his blanket to his chest. He always adamantly denied he needed it, but he did, he so desperately did. He craved the soft texture, the comforting homely smell that radiated from it. It smelled like his friends, like his family, like his home. He never wanted his friends to think he was weak, that he relied on what was essentially a piece of fabric to comfort him, but he did. God he needed it so bad.
"Derek?" Spencer mumbled softly before he remembered the older boy was at an away game and wouldn't be home until the next evening.
For a moment the small boy just sat, tears cascading down his face. He didn't know when he'd begun to cry, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to be safe, he wanted someone to look after him... he just wanted to be safe.
The boy considered going to see Hotch, it wouldn't be difficult to creep down the dusty corridors of Lincoln house to find the teen, he'd been in his room, likely finishing his trig homework, pen twiddling idly between long pale fingers.
Spencer stood, blanket clasped between tense fingers before his mind flickered back to the previous day. By dinner Hotch had deep dark circles under his eyes and even his signature yellow redbull did nothing to diminish the exhaustion radiating from the teen. Hotch was exhausted, that much had been obvious.
The child chewed the corner of his blanket slightly, trying to soothe himself. He couldn't go to Hotch. The elder boy needed sleep and Spencer refused to be the one to deny him it. No, he was nine years old, he could look after himself, he had always done so before, why should that change?
No, he'd do this alone.
For a moment Spencer's mind flashed back to the elder boys in the group home, chasing him, holding him down and hurting him. Phantom pain shot through his wrist as he remembered the pain from the break he'd received early into his stay at the home. The staff had taken him to the hospital sending him through with the doctor, leaving him alone. It had only solidified the fear of the place.
The staff from the group home had thought nothing of his broken wrist, easily accepting his pitiful excuse that he'd fallen when playing. They'd seen the multitude of injuries he'd had prior to the home, and easily accepted that he was a clumsy child and left it at that. They never knew that the majority of his injuries were from trying to help his Mom during her episodes, from when she'd push him away, much harder than his small body could handle. They'd never know, and he'd never tell. He didn't blame his Mom of course, he'd read up on paranoid schizophrenia, he knew what to expect, and he understood. On her very few good days she'd called him Crash. She'd never known the truth.
Thinking of his Mom drew him back to the present. He wished she was there with him. He wished she was there to cradle him close to her reading him Proust or Chaucer like she had done on her good days. He wanted to fall asleep against her, snuggle closer to her heat and feel the love he so desperately craved... but his Mom wasn't there. She'd never responded to his letters, never even opened them.
He was alone.
Anxious eyes darted around the room before they landed on his bed. The boys at the group home had been much bigger than him and if he'd burrowed somewhere safe, somewhere small, they'd never be able to get him.
Grabbing the simple pillow Hotch had given him on the first day from amongst the newer ones Dave and Emily had bought him, he carefully moved the lego boxes aside before crawling underneath and pulling the boxes back in front to hide him.
It wasn't perfect but he was safe.
He was safe.
---
Hotch frowned as he stared down at his watch.
8:10.
Where was Spencer?
The two were meant to meet JJ and Penelope for breakfast in the foyer of Lincoln house ten minutes ago. And yet he had seen neither hide nor hair of the boy.
Hotch checked his watch again.
8:11.
Where was he?
The sound of shuffling momentarily caught his attention before he realised it was coming from the wrong direction.
"Hotch, what's taking you guys so long?" Penelope asked, a slight demand in her voice as she reached the seventh floor common room.
"Spencer hasn't appeared yet..." the teen checked his watch again.
"Want me to go and check in on him?" JJ asked bouncing on her heels slightly.
Hotch frowned.
"It's okay guys, I'll go. Head down to breakfast okay, Alex and James should be down there already. Spencer and I will join you as soon as we can, okay?"
The two shrugged at each other a second before they beamed at Aaron and scuttled out of the door back down the stairs.
Hotch sighed before making his way down the corridor towards Morgan and Spencer's room.
"Spencer?" He called fairly quietly, knocking gently on the door so as not to wake any of the other boys on the corridor who would definitely still be asleep on a Saturday morning.
From inside the room he heard slight shuffling, before silence fell.
"Spencer?" Hotch tried again.
Nothing.
"Spencer, I'm coming in okay?"
Waiting a moment to give the boy sufficient time to tell him if he was changing, Hotch opened the door and immediately frowned as he was met with an empty room. He was certain he'd heard movement from inside, and yet the room appeared empty.
"Spencer?"
A slight shuffling sound before a timid voice.
"Hotch?"
Hotch took a moment to realise that the voice had come from beneath the bed before he let the door click shut and he rushed to the bed, dropping to his knees beside it.
"Spencer?"
From behind boxes of lego, the small boys dusty and tear stained face appeared.
"Aww Bug, are you okay?" Hotch asked gently.
Spencer sniffled, fresh tears appearing on his face.
"It's okay Bug, it's okay. Come out sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe."
With Hotch's last words, the boy carefully shuffled out from under the bed, practically throwing himself into the elder boys arms. Aaron had expected it and immediately clasped the boy close to him, holding the back of his head gently.
"Oh Bug, it's okay. I'm here."
Slight sobs wracked the boy, but he didn't speak. Hotch had kind of expected it, and he just rocked the boy slightly in, what he hoped, was soothing for him.
It took a few minutes before the boy pulled back, rubbing his wet eyes on his pyjama sleeve.
"I'm sorry." He muttered, slightly shamefaced.
"It's okay buddy. What happened?"
Spencer fiddled with the edge of his cream blanket slightly.
"Bug?" Hotch prompted gently.
"I had a nightmare."
"Oh sweetheart. Why didn't you come to me, hmm?"
"I-"
"Spencer?"
"Yesterday you were so tired. I- I just wanted to let you sleep."
"Bug you can always come to me. Always, you understand?"
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Spencer smiled tentatively. A small victory.
"Why don't you get cleaned up Bug, hmm? I'll get the others to bring some breakfast for us and we'll play some games in the common room, sound good?"
"Sounds good."
Hotch smiled, running his hands gently through Spencer's hair.
"Go on then kid."
Spencer quickly grabbed his things before heading to the bathroom down the hall.
Hotch pulled out his phone shooting a text to Alex before he carefully made Spencer's bed, placing the collective works of Proust on the desk by the boy's bed.
Everything was going to be okay.
Everything was okay.