A/N: This fic is its own alternate universe. While I have attempted to keep as many aspects of the CM universe uniform to canon, I have altered select portions to fit into my fic

The sharp sound of glass hitting the wall sparked life into a young boy. Spencer Reid's eyes fluttered open as he shifted into a sitting position. His body ached and his ankle itched under the shackle his dad had attached to his leg. He sat on the floor nervously, playing with the chain that kept him bound to the cement floor of the garage. He held his breath, calming himself as he waited for the door to open. He was mentally reciting the digits of pi, and stopped abruptly when William Reid staggered through the door. "Morning dad," Spencer said timidly.

The man merely grunted, tossing the rest of his shattered beer at the wall to the boy's right. Without talking, William Reid swooped down, unchaining his shackle. Spencer scurried to his feet, standing at attention, avoiding his dad's gaze. A short pause ensued before William slapped Spencer across the face. Spencer held his breath but did not break his stance. His cheek smarted as William regained his balance. Spencer shut his eyes as his morning beating began. He let his mind wander as his dad began to kick and punch his slight frame. He did his best to remain standing, as his father always hated the week. Eventually, his father stopped. Spencer bit his lip. This was nothing new to him, ever since his mother went away.

Spencer held his breath, waiting for the worst, when, without warning, his father grabbed a fistful of chestnut hair. Lifting the boy roughly, Spencer's toes grazed the hardwood floor as his father dragged him into his study. Suppressing a moan, Spencer winced as he was thrown into the wall. Crumpling to the floor, he whimpered softly as his father's shadow engulfed his small frame. "Please, please, please," the youth muttered in a familiar mantra. His father shook his head drunkenly before yanking the boy up from the wrists. "Stand up straight, worthless piece of shit. It's time for breakfast," he said forcefully, kicking a dog bowl over. It slid and landed in front of the slumping boy.

Bits of moldy cheese and clumps of milk floated in the bowl. Spencer made the mistake of letting his small nose wrinkle in a slight grimace. The elder Reid, despite being inebriated beyond common sense, caught the young boy's expression and snorted. "What- the food I put in front of you isn't good enough for Little Lord Fauntleroy?" he sneered, bearing down on the tiny child.

Spencer opened his mouth, tempted to ask the man if he was the disinherited son of the Earl of Dorincourt, decided against it and only said, "No sir, I just think there's little to no nutritional value in sour milk and cheese and I was just hoping that since it's been a few days since I've had fresh food if you could maybe give me a leaf of lettuce and some cold water."

William stared at Spencer, as if he had asked for all the jewels in London. "New food?" he asked in disbelief. "Boy, the food I put in front of your ungrateful face should be new enough. You don't deserve anything newer than that," he said, not even masking the disdain he had for his small son.

Spencer nodded mutely, kicking himself for even asking for something different. He ducked his head down, about to devour his meal. "Actually," William cut in, picking the bowl up off the floor. "You don't deserve even this. You aren't human so why should you eat like one? Which is why, when I was out last night, I picked up something that suits little whelps like you more."

Spencer shut his eyes, cursing himself as he heard the can opener grinding against a tin. Thoughts raced through his mind. Would his father kill him by poisoning food? Or does he enjoy the gratuitous torture more? When he heard something wet plot into the dish, he looked down again. A smelly mound of dog food sat in the bowl. Spencer looked up defiantly. "No, I won't eat this," he protested.

His father laughed softly. "Boy I don't care if you starve to death, sooner or later you'll be begging for my generosity."

Spencer shook his head vigorously. "I don't care if I become more famished than a fish in the desert, you can't get me to eat dog food. I'm not a dog. I'm a boy. I'm a boy," he insisted, folding his arms.

His father's upper lip curled into a snarl. "Well, if the dog won't eat his food, I guess the dog will have to sleep in the outside."

An overwhelming sense of dread filled the young boy as his father grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him into the back yard. The yard was unkempt and the grass was patchy and brown. A rusted old fence was built around the perimeter. Beyond that, was a thicket of trees and bushes, obscuring the small family home. An old rusted chain was connected to the dilapidated fence, and William Reid fastened it around his son's neck. Giving the chain a sharp pull, Spencer yelped in pain. Tears stung his eyes as his father glared at him with so much hate. His father pulled the chain again, tightening the hold. The chain links sunk into Spencer's bruised and cut neck and he sputtered. "You can come inside when you decide to eat the food I put in front of you," his father growled

Reid could feel his heart racing so he nodded quickly. His father let go of the chain and Spencer fell to the ground. He kept his back turned as his father retreated back inside. After he heard the screen door close and could no longer smell the bar down the street, the boy turned around slowly, examining his new surroundings. His first move was quick and too sharp, as the chain slid into an open wound. Wincing, he situated himself to lean against the dog house. The only thing the boy was wearing was an oversized t shirt and a pair of boxers. The cool May breeze engulfed the yard and Spencer shook violently. He closed his eyes as tears stung his face. Oh stop it, he scoffed to himself. What were you expecting after all that talk back? Spencer continued to scold himself until the sun went down and he drifted into a mostly uncomfortable sleep.

Aaron Hotchner was sleeping peacefully when his cellphone began vibrating violently. Groggily, he picked it up, squinting into the bright light. Touching the green button he flopped back into bed with the phone to his ear. "Agent Hotchner," he said raspily.

"Aaron, it's Sean," the voice on the other end sounded just as weary.

Aaron sat up abruptly. "Is it mom? Is she okay?" he asked worriedly.

"She's fine man, though when I went over last, she told me she wished you called her more," his brother replied. "No, uh, are you still working in the BAU?"

"Yeah, I am, I just got off a case yester…this morning," Hotch said tiredly. "Can you please tell me what's going on?"

Sean sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm still in New York, but an old friend from Georgetown called me- he's a lawyer in Vegas. I mentioned, way back when, that my brother was an agent and well, he wants a big favor," Sean trailed off, mind racing, still trying to form his ultimate question.

Hotch sighed impatiently. "Right, okay, but what's the favor?"

Sean cleared his throat. "Completely off the books, uh, my friend, thinks that one of his coworkers, uh, killed his wife and his child."

There was nothing but silence from the other line, so Sean hastily explained further. "So my friend, Aiden. He works at Kierschenbaum, Wieder and Moore law firm in Summerlin, Nevada. He has a coworker, not a partner, but a guy who's been there for a pretty long time. His name is William Reid. Aiden's been there for about three years, and he says this guy seems to be on a downward spiral that no one wants to acknowledge. Comes to work reeking of liquor, hardly wins any cases, but since he's cousins with one of the partners he doesn't get fired. That doesn't bother Aiden. But apparently, when he started there, Reid's wife and child would sometime come to his office and say hello. He said over the few years, his family has slowly disappeared. About two years ago, there was a massive rumor floating around that William had his wife, Diana, committed. His son was known around the city for being exceptionally smart, there were newspaper articles about him entering the fifth grade about two years back. His son is supposed to be seven by now, but Aiden says he hasn't seen the boy in months. He could have sworn there was dried blood on the bathroom walls, and the garage smelled like someone has been shitting in it for weeks. He's called the police but he's been getting the run around and he is sincerely worried this man's hurt his son. I know you don't have enough for a case, but I'm sure you've got a wider breadth of resources to investigate this," Sean pleaded with his older brother.

Hotch sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I can see why you want this off the books, there isn't a case here at all. All I can promise is that I'll have Penelope look into it," he told his brother wearily.

"Thank you, Aaron. Please let me know what you find out," Sean said gratefully. "G'night."

The next morning, Penelope Garcia strut into Hotch's office. "Sir, you called for me?"

Hotch looked up from the file on his desk. "Yes, Garcia. I need you to run a few searches for me please. Please, keep it legal, but as discreet as possible."

He could see Garcia had a million questions but was using all her personal restraint. "Okay sir. What are these searches?" she asked, whipping out a pink fuzzy notebook with an equally decorative pen.

"I want you to look into William Reid, an attorney in Summerlin, Nevada. I want you to tell me anything about him, his wife, and especially his son."

Penelope nodded swiftly before leaving for her office. Hotch returned to his file which Sean had faxed over that morning. So far, the only thing he knew about this family was from archived news clippings and amateur Google searches.

About an hour later, Garcia floated back into his office with a thicket of paper in her arms. "Sir. I have found a lot lot lot on William Reid. He is an attorney in Summerlin, which you already knew. He was born in Spokane and went to law school at Stanford. In 1989 he married Diana Rawlins, a paranoid schizophrenic. They gave birth to a son, Spencer, in October of 2008. William practices at a law firm in Summerlin but oddly his name hasn't been attached to any cases in about three or four years. Spencer is apparently a child prodigy, he was enrolled into an accelerated gifted school back in 2012. Everything looks really normal for them until 2014 when Diana suffered from a psychotic break. She was then committed to the Bennington Sanitarium where she still is today."

Hotch nodded slowly, processing the information. "Do we know what happened to the father and son?" he asked.

Penelope frowned slightly. "In 2014, William pulled Spencer out of school, ignored all the visits from social services, and nobody has seen him since then. The dad has been arrested numerous times for drunken disorderly conduct."

Hotch frowned. "Thank you Penelope, you can return to your office," he said kindly.

Sitting in his office, perplexed with the dilemma, he called Rossi into his office. "Dave, can you cover for me for a few days?" he asked seriously.

David frowned. He knew how solemnly Aaron took time off, so he didn't mind covering for the man under the short notice. "Of course, is something wrong?" he asked with extreme concern.

Aaron shook his head. "I'm not sure, I'm doing a favor for Sean."

David nodded and walked out of the unit chief's office. He opened his phone to text Sean. 'I'm on my way to the airport. I'll let you know when I land in Vegas."

Reid's breath rattled as he jolted awake. He rubbed his eyes and sighed as he saw the large expanse of lawn he was currently inhabiting. He could just barely smell his mother, who visited him so briefly in his dreams. The rusty chains clanked against one another and the spring breeze wafted around the yard. He tilted his face to the sky and tried to calm himself. The midnight sky is clouded with fog and the canopy of trees above him. Inhale, 2, 3. Exhale, 2, 3, 4. Soon, the sun was peeking out from the fringe of the trees. Momentarily blinded, Reid screwed his eyes shut. Slowly opening his eyes, He waited patiently for his father to come out. This was his third day tied to the fence and he could feel his resolve dwindling. He hummed quietly as his rips ached. At this point, his cuts have scabbed over his collar and every movement sent sharp jolts of pain into the boy's small frame. Spencer whined pitifully. At least it's better than spending special time with him, he thought to himself. He shut his eyes, patiently waiting for his father's morning stops before work.

Not to his surprise, William Reid staggered out of his home, a stupid grin on his face. He advanced on his son. "Well boy, are you going to eat it?" he demanded, shoving the dog food in his son's face once more.

Chin held high, Spencer shook his head vigorously. "No sir," he said.

William scoffed, tossing the dish aside. The several day old discount dog food went flying across the lawn. He cracked his knuckles menacingly and Spencer wistfully thought back on old TV specials his mom would watch with him when the bully threatened to beat up the little guy. The only difference was that there was no hero in the real world.

He shut his eyes and waited for the worst.

A/N: So I decided to rewrite the first two chapters because I felt like I was writing myself into a corner.