#fuck william reid too for leaving a child to take care of his mom

[samuelsdean]

bye this just reminded me of how spencer's savior complex is so entwined with his abandonment issues his first response when gideon didn't contact the bau a few days after he said he was going to his cabin was to actually head over there to check up on gideon bc he was worried (over a grown man idc if that's his mentor that's still a grown man) and the only thing he found there was that stupid letter

It took me way too long to realize Spencer has a savior complex when for the first six seasons he would frequently run towards a armed UnSub with no vest or gun.

[spencer-reids-adventures]

“you don’t understand, do you?”

“i understand perfectly. you’re being a dick.”

“You don’t understand, do you?”

“I understand perfectly. You’re being a dick.”

Hotch glares at Spencer, who stands with clenched fists, doing his best to maintain eye contact, practically shaking with rage. It takes a moment for Hotch to realize what's happening, but when he does, he quickly breaks his gaze and relaxes his posture.

"Reid," he says carefully. "Who are you really angry at right now?"

"You," Spencer says sharply, almost before Hotch has even finished speaking.

"Are you sure?" Hotch asks. "Are you angry at me, your Unit Chief, for telling you to be more careful in the field? Or are you angry at William Reid for constantly making you feel like everything you did was wrong?"

Spencer's eyes grow huge and he starts to frantically slam one of his fists against his thigh. He seems at a loss for words, until finally--

"Go fuck yourself, Hotch," he spits, and stomps away several yards before breaking into a run.

It's almost 3am when there's a hesitant knock on Hotch's door, but it's enough to wake him. He opens the door to find Spencer. He's still fully dressed, and somehow looks impossibly small. He obviously hasn't been back to the hotel until now, and Hotch wonders if he should have tried to call instead of giving him his space.

Hotch ushers him in without saying anything, and Spencer sits down on the floor next to one of the beds, pulling his knees up to his chest. He wrings his hands and rocks back and forth for a little while, and Hotch doesn't interrupt him, just takes a seat on the other bed and waits for Spencer to be ready to speak.

"I haven't seen William Reid in 15 years," he finally says. "But he's still there, all the time, telling me everything I'm doing wrong. And every single thing I do is a reaction to that - to him. I kept my mom and I safe through high school to prove to him that we didn't need him. I got all those PhDs to prove to him that I could do it. I joined the FBI to show him that I could be successful in a real job. Even if he never actually knew, I knew, and I knew that I had succeeded, and I did it all without him."

He's crying by now, tears streaking down his cheeks that he doesn't even bother to brush away.

"You're nothing like him, Hotch. Even when you're mad at me, you've never tried to change me. My behavior, sure. But you've never made me feel like there was something wrong with me, like I couldn't be counted on or trusted. You've never made me feel broken or faulty, you've never made me doubt myself, and you've never downplayed my sensory issues or tried to stop my stims. You've never done anything like that."

He pauses to take a breath, and still, Hotch stays silent.

"I'm telling you all these things to try and help myself understand why I spoke to you the way I did today. Why sometimes I talk to you the way I want to talk to him, even though you're nothing alike. It's like I'm so scared of being wrong or doing wrong, the second someone calls me on it I have to attack them. Maybe because I could never do that with William, I could never stand up to him. I don't know..."

He starts to cry harder, and Hotch moves from the bed to the floor, sitting next to Spencer and letting him cry on his shoulder. Spencer clings to him like a child, shuddering and sobbing, and Hotch rocks him gently.

"I'm sorry," Spencer gasps. "I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Spencer?" Hotch asks quietly.

"For being rude to you. For disrespecting you. For thinking I knew better than you. For making bad choices. For hurting myself and others. For failing. For being different. For being too sensitive. For not being a mind-reader. For being an embarrassment. For not being enough to keep our family together. For giving up on her. For leaving her behind. For not being smart enough to find a cure for her..."

He's almost howling, now, as he sobs, and Hotch can't tell who exactly he's apologizing to, but he thinks maybe it doesn't matter.

"Shh, Spencer, Spencer," he murmurs. "It's okay. You're okay. You don't have to apologize for those things, Spencer. You are good, and smart, and capable. You aren't an embarrassment. You haven't failed. You've always done what you had to do, and no one can fault you for that. Spencer, you're one of the best people I know. Do you hear me?"

"Mm," hums Spencer, beginning to calm down and slumping tiredly against Hotch's chest.

"Let's get you to bed, okay?" Hotch whispers.

They have their own rooms, but there's no way he's making Spencer go back to his, not now, not after this. Instead he helps remove Spencer's shoes and brings him an extra pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, guiding him into the bathroom to change and wash his face.

When he comes out, Hotch tucks him into bed, leaving the desk lamp on, and turns out the rest of the lights.

"Goodnight, Spencer," he says.

"G'night," Spencer mumbles. "Love you."

He's asleep before Hotch can even process what he's said.