Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Haunted ❤️ (PG)

Summary: Haunted by what happened, Spencer tells someone for the first time what he did while in prison.

Rating: PG (13+)

Content Warnings: Mild self-harm (hitting head), nervous breakdown/autistic meltdown, mentions of death and dying, happy ending

A/N: I played Boadicea by Enya on loop the entire time I wrote this. Highly recommend while reading.

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Rain is meant to be cleansing. From the dawn of man, rain symbolized hope, revitalization, and life. I'd always thought it was that lingering memory of our ancestors that brought us calmness with the rain. But that night when I awoke to the soft pitter-pattering against the window, there was no peace in my bed.

Spencer was not there, but I knew where he was.

The creaking of the old floorboards always seemed louder at night, and the still, humid air seemed colder against my skin still clinging to the warmth from the bed. The path I was walking felt so familiar by that point that I had almost forgotten how recently I'd learned it. It had only been a couple months since Spencer returned home from prison. At least, that was when his body began inhabiting the space again. I was never really sure if the man I loved had actually come with it.

But there he was, exactly where I'd expected him to be. It wasn't only the way the little visible moonlight reflected off his face that made him more silhouette than man — there was something else inhuman about him. I wondered if that feeling was the reason why the words shadow and specter were interchangeable.

"Spencer?" I called out into the cold quiet, hoping for any semblance of a response. When I got none, I spoke again, louder and with a broken force behind the two syllables that I used to only sing, "... Spencer?"

"I can hear you," was all that he said.

I wanted it to be a comfort, but it only brought more questions to my already crowded thoughts.

"What are you doing awake?" I asked as I finally arrived at his side.

"There's a storm," he concluded, still standing in the same statuesque stance I'd found him in. "I couldn't sleep with the noise."

It was a lie. I had the decency not to call him out on it because I knew it would accomplish nothing other than sowing further distrust. I say further, but the truth was that I had no idea what had come between us in the first place. The only thing I knew was that Spencer left me already broken and returned with missing pieces.

"You've always slept better when it's raining," I pointed out. But I couldn't will it into existence, no matter how hard I tried.

"Not tonight," he answered between teeth that begged for the freedom to chatter in the cold. He did not grant them their wish, his jaw steeling back over to keep the words inside.

Spencer had a secret. Its presence was obvious, the proverbial giant baring its ivory tusks in the darkness of our living room, but I did not have a hold on its reigns. The frustration and the insecurity, while felt and suffered by us both, did not belong to me.

"It's been three days."

A glance at Spencer's tightly clenched fists told me that his hands were equally empty. The lead for the monster inside him was not wrapped around his hands. It was wrapped around his neck, suffocating him as he choked out, "Has it?"

"Yes," I whispered once I drummed up the courage to touch him. Like the clashing of cymbals, my fingertips on his arm caused him to jump. Despite that movement, he didn't shy away from me. Even as I wrapped my arms around him from behind, he didn't budge from his place against the window.