It didn't take long for Kiki to spill everything to the profilers. She caught them up on Spencer's second job, Wesley's crooked ways, and the turf war that had been taking place between the two rivaling pimps. She left nothing out; her fear for Spencer's safety was too strong to keep her from holding anything back.

When she had finished her tale the profilers asked her a few questions before they started to postulate where Wesley would have taken his adopted son. The worried prostitute sat in the passenger seat listening to the agents throw ideas back and forth for a few minutes before she interrupted. "Excuse me, but have ya'll tried trackin Flatty?"

Morgan turned to look at her and said, "Of course we tried his phone. Nothing. He must have turned it off or something."

She nodded her head and looked around the SUV, "Did ya try his car?"

"What?"

Kiki shifted in her seat and gave the profiler an annoyed look, "Come on…I've seen plenty of cop show re-runs durin the day. They always catch the bad guy by trackin his car or somethin like that. And if Flatty was in a silver Charger like ya said then he was definitely drivin one of the station's undercover cars. And on the TV they always show cop cars with those GPS things in them."

"How do you know it wasn't just his actual car?" Morgan asked.

"Because Flatty's actual ride is one of those big trucks - ya know, the type that screams 'I have a small dick," she said.

"Hotch?" Morgan called out to his unit chief. A glint of hope tinged his voice, masking the frustration he was feeling at the fact that the team hadn't thought of this already.

"I heard her, Morgan. We've got Garcia on it now," the man said.

The unlikely duo sat silently in the car waiting for the results of the tech analyst's efforts.

"Morgan?"

"Tell me something good, Hotch."

"We've got a location. Kiki, does 26525 Goddard Rd sound at all familiar to you?" Aaron asked.

Derek could see the gears turning in Kiki's mind as she thought about the location. He knew she came up with some the second her eyes went wide and she brought a hand up to her mouth.

"What is it?" Morgan demanded. "Where is it?"

"I-I'm not sure if I'm right…but I'm think that's the side of town Luthor lives on…it's all fancy and shit. Ya know, those houses have gates and guards…but…but why would Flatty go there?" she asked after she thought about it some more.

Morgan put the car into gear, "I don't know but it can't be good. Hotch, we'll meet you there!"

The profiler and the prostitute drove to the location in utter silence. There was nothing to be said that could change the situation and they were both content with keeping their worried thoughts to themselves. The only thing that intermittently disrupted their noiseless drive was the electronic voice of the GPS unit guiding their way.

The SUV slowed to a crawl as they approached their final destination. Morgan turned off the headlights and parked the vehicle on the curb about 100 feet from the wrought iron gate.

Kiki was the first to speak, "Why did ya stop here? Shouldn't we be rammin those fuckin gates and going in to save String?"

"We aren't doing anything. You're going to stay with the car and I'm going to go help our boy," he said while undoing his seat buckle.

"Like hell I will!" she exclaimed, her fingers scrambling to release her own safety belt.

"Look, Kiki…I can't be worried about you while I'm trying to get to Spencer," Morgan explained as he opened his car door.

"Worried about me? Hun…I don't think ya realize that I've been workin the streets since I was 16. I can take care of myself. I don't need some big strong F.B.I. agent lookin out for me," she snarled. "Besides, how are ya planning on getting in there…huh? Ya just gonna walk up and ask them to open the gates?"

Morgan knew he had offended the working girl but didn't have time to care, "I'm going to hop the fence."

She laughed cynically as she walked around the car to meet him face to face. "Right, and ya are gonna stab yaself on one of those spikes in the process. Watch and learn," she said as she began to saunter over to the communication box with a saucy step.

"Kiki, wait!" Morgan hissed, running up to her and grabbing her arm. "You're not authorized to help. Just stay in the car and wait for me to get back with the kid."

The prostitute went to respond but was interrupted by the arrival of multiple law enforcement vehicles, including another black SUV. The duo turned toward the chaos and watched as officers and agents piled out of their cars. "These must be your friends," Kiki drawled sarcastically.

"Yeah…," Morgan said.

Hotch came up to Derek immediately and asked, "You weren't going to wait for us, were you?"

The profiler gave his boss a defiant look, "The kid's life could be on the line…I was going to do what I had to do in order to help him."

The unit chief nodded, "We'll discuss that later." The man's eyes started to scrutinize the barrier that was erected between them and Luthor's house. "How were you planning on getting over the fence?"

Kiki piped up, "The genius was gonna try jumpin over it."

Hotch turned his gaze toward the scantily clad woman, "You must be Kiki. I'm Agent Hotchner. Thank you for all of your help."

"I am but can we skip past the intros? My little bro may be in there and he if he is then he'll need some help," she said sternly, bringing the focus back to Spencer.

"Right. Morgan, we rounded up a few officers that aren't under Wesley's thumb. They have been briefed on the situation and are ready to help. Turns out the captain wasn't very popular with his subordinates," Hotch started explaining.

"That's great, Hotch. But that doesn't get us through that fence," Derek responded, his hand tapping out a nervous pattern against his leg. He didn't like that they were wasting time out here talking when they should be storming the gates.

Rossi, who had just approached the trio, supplied the solution to their dilemma, "Ah…that's not going to be a problem. Officer Miller over there told me that all of these gates have a police code programed into them that can be inputted to override their controls. We're ready to go whenever you guys are through talking."

Aaron turned back to Morgan and Kiki, "You two will follow behind us. Kiki, you have to stay in the car while we secure the house – no exceptions."

She nodded her head begrudgingly, "Fine. But the second you get String outta that house I'ma gonna be there."

The unit chief didn't respond, knowing that there would be no way to stop the stubborn woman the moment she saw her friend. "Let's go."

Morgan's SUV jerked to a halt when Hotch's vehicle stopped suddenly right in front of them. Officer Miller had moments ago entered the police emergency code into the box and opened the gates. Knowing that whomever was manning the security systems would be immediately notified the profilers sped through the entrance, intent on getting to the house before Luthor's could set up a good offense.

"Stay here!" Derek ordered Kiki as he flung the vehicle in park upon seeing his fellow agents jump out of their SUV with their guns drawn.

Once Morgan was out of the vehicle he heard Hotch's firm voice, "F.B.I. Drop the weapon."

It wasn't until the agent was rounding the side of the black SUV he heard the response of a frightened voice shouting, "D-don't come any closer!"

With deliberately slow steps, Morgan cautiously stepped up behind Hotch and Rossi. He positioned himself between the two men with his gun held high. When his eyes caught sight of the source of the panicky voice he let out a gasp.

There at the edge of the hedge lined winding driveway was a blood-spattered Spencer Reid.

The young man's clothes were covered in crimson and he had streaks of red on his pale face. Spencer's short hair appeared to be wet and his eyes were wide with a wild look to them. In his shaking hands he held a Glock, which was trained on the agents spread out in front of him. It was obvious the boy was in shock and frightened out of his wits.

"S-stay b-back or I-I'll shoot," the assistant threatened, moving the aim of his gun from agent to agent in an amateur fashion. "J-just let m-me go a-and no one will get hurt."

"Hotch, let me try something," Derek whispered to his superior.

The unit chief nodded and stepped aside to let his subordinate through.

Morgan holstered his weapon and put his hands up high in the air. "Spencer…it's me, Morgan. You're safe kid. I promise. No one here wants to hurt you. You've just gotta put the gun down."

The youth's eyes latched onto Derek's face at the sound of his voice. The agent could still see the panic residing within their honeyed depths. "Kid, remember when I told you to have faith in me? This is one of those times. I swear to God that none of these people here are a threat. Now just lower your weapon."

"M-Morgan?" Spencer asked as his sanity tried to fight its way through the terror filling his brain.

"Ya kid…it's me," the man said, stepping forth cautiously. He held out his hand toward the gun, hoping that the young man would relinquish it to him.

"Morgan…he-he tricked me. H-he lied about my mom. He was trying to give me away t-to Luthor," Reid said brokenly. "Th-they made me p-perf-"

"It's okay, Spencer. You don't have to tell me now. Just hand me the gun and we'll get everything taken care of," Morgan coaxed gently.

Spencer blinked his expressive orbs and looked down at his hands. His brain's fight for clarity must have won out for seconds later he dropped his left hand and passed the agent the weapon.

Morgan snatched it from the kid's hand and passed it back to Rossi. He then raced forward and caught the lanky youth as his legs gave out beneath him.

"Reid? Spencer? Are you alright?" Morgan asked as he lowered the two of them down to the ground. The profiler's mind couldn't help but worry that the young man was injured and bleeding out on him.

The boy's fingers reached up and seized the fabric of Derek's shirt that was peeking through the sides of the agent's bulletproof vest. He then pushed his face into the man's chest and started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Get me an ambulance," Derek demanded when looked up at his fellow agents. He then trained his gaze back on the young man and patted him on the back, trying to console him. "It's alright. You're safe now. It's over. Are you hurt anywhere?"

Hotch stepped forth while JJ ran back to Morgan's SUV. "Stay here with him until the ambulance comes. See if you can figure out what happened to him. We're going to head up to the house."

Derek nodded silently. Moments later a high pitched voice called out, "String! String, are you okay?"

Kiki's heels clicked violently against the pavement as she scurried over to her self-proclaimed little brother. She dropped to the ground next to Morgan and started rubbing circles on Spencer's back. "String?"

Behind her the unit chief's SUV continued up the driveway with a few squad cars following him, leaving Morgan behind with two officers for protection until the medics arrived.

Derek turned his attention back to Spencer after the red glow of the taillights disappeared. He hadn't even realized until then that the assistant had been mumbling something into his vest. "I…mean…I…no…cho-" was all he could make out of the kid's garbled words.

Morgan slowly extracted himself from the boy by putting his hands on Spencer's wiry shoulders and pushing him back slightly. "Pretty Boy? What was that you said?"

Tear-filled pools looked back at him, pleading him to understand. "I-I said that I didn't mean to k-kill him. I-I had no choice," Spencer sputtered, his chest heaving as panic started to regain control over his emotions.

"Kill who?" Kiki whispered, halting her soothing circles to hear the answer.

Reid was practically hyperventilating now, his body shaking uncontrollably as he tried to force out his response. "W-W-Wesley," he managed to utter before he passed out from the overwhelming stress his body had endured over the last few hours.

A rhythmic beeping sound infiltrated the darkness clouding Spencer's mind. Since when did his alarm clock make this sound?

He threw his hand out to hit the off button but was surprisingly met with what felt like a metal rail instead of his nightstand. Deciding that he should open his eyes and figure out where he was, Spencer slowly cracked open his heavy lids.

What greeted him was totally unexpected – white ceiling tiles.

He blinked multiple times and scrunched up his nose in confusion.

"Welcome back, kid."

Spencer's body jerked in surprise. He turned his head and saw Agent Derek Morgan sitting in a cushioned chair by the window. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around the hospital room. "What happened?"

Derek sighed and pulled his chair closer to the bed. "How much do you remember?"

"I-uh-I remember…," he paused as the images started infiltrating his mind. He gulped down a deep breath of air before continuing, "W-Wesley tricked me and took me to Luthor's. And…and…"

"Whoa whoa whoa…we don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to," Morgan said, laying his hand on the kid's exposed arm.

"No. I-I want to know. I need to know."

"Okay…well why don't you let me skip us ahead a bit. Do you remember us finding you?"

Reid nodded his head, "Kinda. I remember giving you my gun…and I think…was Kiki there?"

Derek smiled, "Yeah, she was. She'd be here right now if I hadn't sent her home to get some sleep. Your sister is one obstinate woman."

Spencer gave a halfhearted laugh at the description, "She can be stubborn…uh…how did I end up here?"

"You passed out in my arms…after you admitted to killing Wesley," Morgan stated solemnly.

The assistant's eyes went grew as big as saucers. "I-I killed him. Oh my God…I killed him." His hand flew up to his chest and he pushed his palm against his heart. With panicked breaths he looked at Morgan in confusion, "Why aren't I handcuffed to the bed? Shouldn't I be under arrest? Oh God…he was right…I'll never see my mom again."

Derek jumped out of his chair and laid his hands on both of Spencer shoulders. "Pretty Boy, look at me. Look at me kid," he ordered sternly. He waited until the unsure brown eyes met his own before he continued, "You are not under arrest. We know that what you did to Wesley was out of self-defense. Just calm down and let me explain. Now breathe with me."

Morgan coached Spencer into evening out his breaths. After a few minutes their breathing patterns were the same and the genius seemed to be calmer.

"S-so I'm n-not under arrest?"

"No, kid…and you didn't kill anybody."

"What?" Reid asked incredulously.

A big grin broke out on Derek's face and he started to chuckle.

Confused by his companion's reaction to his question, Reid asked again, "What do you mean I didn't kill him? I shot him. His blood was all over me. How can that possibly be funny?"

The profiler's laughs died away when he saw how upset the boy was. His smile fell before he spoke, "You didn't kill him, kid. Yes, you did shoot him but not fatally. The reason why I'm laughing is because I never want to go up against you in a gunfight."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you have excellent aim."

Spencer furrowed his brow.

"Look kid, let's just say that Wesley is literally going to be someone's "bitch" in prison," Morgan said, snorting in order to cover the laugh that was trying to escape.

A glint of glee entered Spencer's expression when he realized what Derek was saying, "You mean…"

"Oh yeah, kid. You totally hit his family jewels," Morgan said before he burst out laughing once again.

The profiler's amusement was catching and before he knew it Reid found himself laughing out loud right along with him.

The two sat there enjoying the moment until Spencer spotted the bandage wrapped around his arm. He fingered it, pulling at the white gauze trying to peer at what was hidden underneath.

"They had to give you a few stitches to close that up," Morgan supplied, watching the genius examine his wound.

Spencer looked at him, "How many?"

"Five."

"That's not too bad. D-did they ask you what caused it?" he asked, hoping the agent didn't tell the doctors about his suicide attempt.

"Yeah, but I said you must have gotten it when you were trying to escape."

Reid gave him a weak smile, "Thanks."

Derek shifted his body closer, "I hope I made the right choice in telling them that. I mean…you're not going to try it again are you? I don't want to get a call saying you went through with it a few months from now."

"I-uh…no. I don't want to go through with…that anymore. I-uh…I think with Wesley out of the way things just might start getting better for me. That and I'm through letting people push me around," Spencer said with growing conviction behind each word.

"Good for you, Pretty Boy. With that attitude and a little bit of therapy you'll heal in no time," Morgan complimented, sitting back in his seat.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Spencer inquired abruptly, "Three months?"

"What was that?"

"You said you didn't want to get a call about me in three months. Why would someone call you about me?" Spencer asked, steering the conversation into an unexpected direction.

Morgan, slightly surprised that the youth picked up on that comment, shook his head at the fact that Spencer really didn't think that people cared about him. "Because I'm gonna be checking up on you."

"Why?"

"You're really not used to people being invested in your wellbeing…are you?"

"I-I just don't understand why an F.B.I. agent would care about what happens to me. I mean…unless you're keeping tabs on me because I'm a witness and you don't want anything bad happening to me so I can take the stand against Wesley."

"Kid, do you really think that's the only reason I would care about what happens to you?"

Spencer shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

Morgan sighed, "Let's just say you've grown on me and I want to make sure you get back on your feet."

The genius dipped his head and whispered, "Thanks."

Derek squeezed his arm, "No problem."

The two friends continued talking for the next hour, discussing what had happened after Spencer passed out, the charges that were being brought up against Captain Wesley and his men, and Reid's involvement in everything. It wasn't until the young man's eyes started drooping that Morgan decided to make his exit.

"Alright kid, it looks like your about to knock out on me again. I'm gonna get going and let you rest. Kiki said she'd be back in the morning. I left my card by your phone so you can call me if you need to…and do me a favor. Stop worrying about everything, okay? Just let us handle it," Morgan said, ruffling Reid's hair with his last words.

Spencer couldn't help but smile at the man's friendly gesture. "Thanks again, Agent Morgan."

"It's Derek."

"Thanks again, Derek."

"Anytime, kid."

Two Days Later

Spencer watched as Agent Prentiss erased the white board and said, "Wow, you guys work fast."

She laughed at his comment, "Yeah, and you heal fast."

"That's not true. Besides a few scratches and bruises there really wasn't anything wrong with me. The hospital had no reason to keep me more than one night," he argued, though he was still slightly self-conscious about the fading black and blue marks that marred his skin.

"If you say so," she said doubtfully, "…but to be honest, we're usually gone long before now. This case was a special circumstance."

"How so?"

Emily turned and rolled her eyes at him. "Really?"

"What?"

"For a genius, you are pretty clueless," she teased. Unfortunately Prentiss saw the boy grimace at her good-natured ribbing, "Spencer…I was kidding. Sorry."

He flashed her a smile, "It's no problem. I'm used to jokes going over my head…well that and most of the time people aren't joking when they say those things to me."

She opened her mouth to say something else when Morgan and JJ walked in carrying two cardboard boxes. "Here we go. This is the last load," the muscular man said, grunting as he set his box down on the table.

"Yeah, the Deputy Chief shouldn't have any issues with putting Wesley and his goons away for a long time," JJ added, dropping her box with a loud thump.

"Do you think he'll still need me to testify?" Spencer asked.

Morgan looked over at the young man, "Yeah Pretty Boy…your testimony will solidify all of this evidence against them. It would help if you could convince Kiki to do it too."

Spencer shook his head, "No…she'd never agree to it. It would ruin her chances of finding another…another steady job."

"And what about you? Are you going to look for another job?" Agent Rossi probed, walking into the room.

The genius's face started to redden at the question. "I…um…I was actually thinking about working here for a little while longer and then…maybe in the fall I could go to college."

"Really?" Prentiss asked. "That's awesome! Where do you want to go?"

"I was thinking about trying Cal Tech…or I don't know…maybe Yale or Georgetown."

"Any of them would be lucky to have you," Morgan declared.

"What do you want to study?" Emily probed, curious as to what the genius might be interested in.

"Ah, I wouldn't mind learning more about chemistry, physics, mathematics…oh and I've always found psychology and sociology fascinating too. Honestly, I wouldn't know where to start…maybe I'd just get degrees in them all. I also wouldn't mind learning more about…," strangely the young man trailed off and didn't finish his thought.

"About what?" JJ questioned.

Spencer looked at the group of agents in the room with him and said shyly, "I…uh…wouldn't mind learning more about criminology and forensic psychology…you know, the stuff you guys apply from day to day to help you build your profiles."

Rossi looked slightly flattered, "So you would like to be one of us one day?"

"I don't know…I find what you guys do to be extremely interesting and I think I'd be really good at it. But I think it's too soon to commit myself to a career when I don't know what all my options are. Well, that and the fact that I haven't even applied to a single university yet. So I have no idea where I'll be accepted or if I'll even get in anywhere at all.

"What do you mean? I bet all the major universities would be fighting over you," JJ stated emphatically.

Spencer looked down at the ground and started stubbing his toe against the tile. "I don't know. There are a few obstacles in my way. You know, things that might prevent me from going or getting accepted at all."

"Like what?" demanded Rossi.

"Well…Wesley kinda made sure I had a record…so I don't know if any college would want me roaming their halls. That and…uh…college is expensive and I don't know if I'll be able to get any scholarships to help me out. Plus I really want to move my mom out of her current facility into someplace better…so any money I make here I'll be putting towards that."

Because his head was down as he listed all of the possible hurdles he'd have to overcome he missed the knowing look the profilers passed among one another.

"Yeah…uh…anyways. When does your flight leave?" Reid asked in an effort to get the attention off of himself.

"We've got an hour," Hotch informed Spencer, closing the door behind him. "Which means we'll need to leave here in half of that."

The others groaned at the announcement.

"Really, Hotch? I was hoping that maybe we'd get another day to actually enjoy this oversized adult playground," Morgan suggested, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Sorry, but I got a call from Strauss and she's already lined up another case for us. Luckily it's back home, but we have work to do nonetheless," Hotch said, shooting down the agent's hopes.

"Seriously!?"

"Unfortunately," the unit chief admitted, "and from a cursory glance it looks like the makings of teenage Satanists."

Again the group groaned but before anyone could say a word, Spencer started talking. "You know, maybe you'll just be dealing with type one teen Satanists. They assume the satanic identity to rebel usually through minor crime, theft and vandalism to churches, schools, and symbols of authority. When combined with drugs and alcohol they may turn violent but their killings are accidental. Usually resulting from their hobby getting out of control. The killings only turn serial –"*

"Whoa kid," Rossi said, holding up his hands in order to stop Reid's ramble. "That was out of my book word for word."*

Spencer clamped his jaw shut tightly and looked away from the veteran profiler in embarrassment.

Morgan, smiling like a Cheshire cat, clapped his hand on Reid's back and said, "You really memorized Rossi's book?"

"I remember everything I read," he said uncomfortably.

"So you have a photographic memory?" JJ asked.

"Eidetic, actually. I-it pertains only to things I read. Though I do tend to remember conversations and visual observations with great accuracy too," he explained.

"That's amazing," Emily said, noticing the genius's uncomfortable body language.

"Yeah…well, most of the time," Reid murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"I-uh…can we not talk about that right now…," Spencer implored the group.

Realizing that they hit a sore spot, the profilers dropped the subject.

"So, kid – have you read all my books?" Rossi inquired in fascination.

Reid, realizing that the older man was actually interested in his answer, nodded his head. "Y-yes sir. I've read them all. I found them riveting. I-if I-I could talk to you later about your work with the Scarsdale Skinner, that would be great. Psycholinguistics is an incredibly dynamic field and the fact that your profile of his reading habits ultimately lead to his capture is something I find so incredibly –"**

This time Morgan was the one to cut off the genius's enthusiastic ramble. "Reid, Reid, Reid. I'll give you his number and you can call and talk to him about it later."

"Really?" Spencer said eagerly.

Rossi gave Derek a glare that said 'I'll get you for that' before smiling at the young man. "Call me anytime, kiddo. Just don't expect me to always be available."

"Of course, sir."

"And please, drop the sir. It makes me sound too old. Just call me Rossi or Dave," the Italian instructed.

"Yes, si – uh, Rossi. But you know according to your biography you are about fifty –"

"Kid, drop it," Morgan said with a chuckle.

"Oh, uh…sorry," Spencer mumbled awkwardly.

Seeing a break in the conversation, Aaron chose to step in and get his team refocused on packing up their belongings. "Anyways, like I said – we need to be out of here in a half hour."

"Actually…at this time of day, if you factor in construction and rush hour traffic flow, you'd be better off leaving in the next fifteen minutes…if you hope to take off on time that is," Spencer supplied sheepishly.

The team of profilers shared a few smiles between them. There was no stopping the young man's rambles now that his father wasn't around to censor him.

"Well, I guess we should hurry up then," Emily announced to the room, spurring her fellow agents into action.

The group, Spencer included, finished tidying up the materials from the evidence board, bagging and labeling anything that needed to go to the attorney's office and filling out a few pieces of paperwork. Not even ten minutes later the room was completely spic and span, devoid of any sign that the profilers had ever been in it.

As the agents started slinging their bags over their shoulders, the young genius felt a wave of sorrow flow through him. He supposed it was because he was about to watch the only people, besides his mother and Kiki, that had ever cared for his well-being walk out of his life. He couldn't help but feel a bit hollow at the loss of their presence. Internally he was berating himself for latching on to them so quickly; because like a moth to a flame he had allowed himself to get to close and now he was going to suffer the consequences – loneliness, seclusion and solitude.

"I guess this is goodbye," he said softly, looking down at his fingers and picking the skin around the nails. "I-I wanted to say thank you again for all your help. I-I don't think I would have survived much longer if you guys hadn't of come along when you did."

The room was silent for a moment and Reid started worrying that what he said might have been too personal.

"Kid, this is only goodbye for now. Remember what I told you at the hospital? I'm going to keep checking up on you. I'm not through with you yet," Morgan told him.

"None of us are, Reid," Emily declared.

JJ's eyes danced with joy as she spoke the next words, "In fact…we have a few surprises for you."

"Surprises?"

"Yeah, for instance…Morgan told us how Wesley put your mom away in that unsavory facility. So, yesterday Emily and I did some research and made a few phone calls," she paused, intentionally adding some suspense to her next words, "…and we got your mom a spot at a private hospital. It's called Bennington Sanitarium and they are expecting your call."

Spencer's eyes went wide with wonder but after he thought through her words his expression quickly switched to disappointment.

JJ immediately noticed the change, "What's wrong? Just a few minutes ago you were saying that you wanted to move your mom from her current place."

"Oh…I do…but it's just…like I said earlier…I don't know if I'll be able to afford it," he admitted with shame.

"Well then it's a good thing that JJ and I have already discussed government aid and payment plans with the director. Believe me, Reid, they are ready to work with you and your current finances," Emily told him.

"Really?" he asked with hope coloring his voice.

"Really," she stated with a toothy smile.

"Wow…I…I can't thank you enough," Spencer said.

"That's not all, kiddo," Rossi said, getting the young boy's attention.

"I-I can't imagine what else –"

"Well for starters, it turns out you qualify and have been approved for the Profiler's Choice Scholarship. It'll pay for all four years of college including food, books, and housing," David announced.

"Wha-"

"I know. I know. You haven't applied for any scholarships yet. I took care of this one for you," the wealthy man said.

"Sir, I-I can't accept that," Spencer uttered, knowing that the famous profiler was actually providing the funding out of his own pocket. "And I'd never be able to pay you back."

Rossi smiled and said, "You can and will accept it. And as for paying me back…well…I'm going to need help researching and compiling facts for my next book."

The genius was speechless. One of the most famous profilers in the whole world wanted his help!

"And I'm going to start filling out the paperwork and filing motions to help you get back custody of your mom. We'll also officially remove Wesley as your power of attorney and we'll see about getting you the money Wesley earned when he sold off your mother's estate," Hotch informed Spencer.

"And if that wasn't enough, Pretty Boy, our tech analyst is going to look into those charges that are on your record to see if she can uh…," Morgan stopped and looked at his superior, "…uh…clean it up."

"Morgan..." Hotch said seriously. "Tell Garcia she – "

"Hotch, man…you know that Baby Girl won't listen to reason once she gets an idea in her head. Besides…the charges against Spencer were false to begin with. How can she get in trouble for removing something that shouldn't have been there in the first place?" the muscular man asked.

"Just tell her to make sure she doesn't get caught," the stoic man ordered with a wink.

"Has my buxom beauty ever been caught?"

The senior agent rolled his eyes and looked at his watch. "It's time to get going."

Collectively the team started to make their way out the door, saying goodbye to their new friend as they exited.

Morgan, though, hung back for a minute. He stood there and looked at the young man that had changed so much over the week they'd been in Vegas. He smiled at him and said, "You take care now, kid. We'll be in touch – I'll be in touch soon. And if you do decide to go the F.B.I. route let me know. I'll be happy to help you train for the academy."

The younger man looked at the agent with tears in his eyes and a smile painting his face. "Agent – uh Derek, I don't know how to thank you guys…you especially. I-I just can't tell you how much everything you've done for me has meant. I – "

"Hey, Spencer…don't worry about it. We know how you feel and there is no need to put it into words. Just go out there and live that dream you never thought was possible. That'll be thanks enough," Morgan said. "Oh and I meant what I said about helping you train. Don't you think twice about asking me. Deal?"

"Deal."

Months Later

Wesley snarled at the Neo-Nazi standing next to him in the lunch line as a warning to back off. He'd just been transferred this morning from his cushy stay at the white collar prison up the road to the large federal penitentiary. Apparently his lawyer hadn't been able to convince the prosecution that a man of his former stature needed to be shielded from all of the hardened criminals. So now here he was among the general population trying to keep his head down and not get recognized.

Thankfully the prisoner next to him took a step back and Wesley went back to waiting for the convict across the line to put some slop into the metal compartment on his tray. Once he got his food he shuffled off to the first table he saw that didn't have any occupants. The former police captain sat down on the bench seat and hunched over his food in an effort to protect it from any of the cons walking by. Once he felt safe enough he picked up the spork he'd grabbed with his tray at the start of the line and poked at the supposed meatloaf in front of him.

"Fucking kid," he mumbled at the sludge. "I'm going to fucking get out of here and make him pay for what he's done to me."

Suddenly his shoulder was jostled, causing him to drop his utensil and turn toward the source of the force. "What the fuck…" he trailed off upon seeing the large black man with his tattooed side-kick standing above him.

"What the hell do you want?" he sneered, putting on a brave front. Internally he cringed because he recognized the enormous con hovering over him. It was someone that he had put away on bogus murder charges a few years back.

"Well looky what we have here, Jonesy."

"Who, Tiny?"

"This is the cop I told you about. The one that sent me to this joint," the man nicknamed Tiny explained.

"Oh really? Well isn't that something," Jonesy jeered.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wesley countered before turning back to his meal, hoping the man would walk away.

"Oh, I think you do, Captain Wesley," Tiny contradicted. The large man looked at his buddy, "Hey, you know what I heard about Bernie here from the guard?"

"What?"

"I heard he got his balls blasted off by his own son," Tiny informed his friend and the other people in his vicinity with a booming voice.

All eyes in the immediate area turned to listen closer to what was transpiring between one of the prison's fiercest inmates and the new guy.

Wesley, color draining from his face, kept his head down and attempted to chew a bite of food. Tiny, though, wasn't satisfied with his reaction so he laid his hand on the ex-cop's back and shoved him off his bench and down to the tiled floor.

"Well? Let's see if it's true!" he yelled to the audience that had suddenly formed around them.

There were a bunch of hoots and catcalls coming from the other men, provoking the large man on with his mission.

Before Wesley knew it he was on being held down to the floor by multiple convicts. Where were the guards?

Tiny stood over him laughing as Jonesy started ripping open Wesley's orange jumpsuit. Bernie shouted out threats and protests but no one paid him any mind. The former captain knew that his disfigured anatomy had been revealed when he heard the raucous laughter erupting around him. "Let me the fuck go before I fucking kill you!" he shouted in vain, knowing he was at the mercy of these men.

His captor chuckled out loud before looking around at the population surrounding them, "Looks like we've got ourselves a genuine bitch here, boys! Who wants to go first?"

* - Paraphrased dialogue from season 3 episode 8 "Lucky"

** - Paraphrased dialogue from season 3 episode 6 "About Face"

A big THANK YOU to everyone that has supported this story. I really appreciated all of your reviews and encouragement. I am going to shift my focus to my other story now but I do have a few possible story lines for the future...so for those of you that aren't reading my medieval slash story "The Stolen King" I shouldn't be gone too long.

I look forward to seeing you again soon!

Take care!