Title: Consider this, Batman
Rating: T
Warning: Mentions of past emotional, physical and sexual abuse, neglection and swearing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the names that you do not recognize.
A/N: This story is AU, which means that the only birthday that's real is Morgan's. The rest are made up, as well as their ages. Everyone's story will be told, but if any questions, please feel free to interrogate me in your reviews ^.^
Summery: What if the BAU didn't meet each other, trying to figure out Criminal Minds. What if they met far ahead, as children growing up in foster care?

Temporary Home

This is my temporary home

It's not where I belong

Windows and rooms that I'm passin' through

This is just a stop, on the way to where I'm going

I'm not afraid because I know this is my

Temporary Home

1

Manassas, Virginia. It has resident in the Northern Virginia, and is placed in-between Prince William County and the fellow independent city of Manassas Park. There lives about thirty five thousand four hundred and twelve people, give or take a few, spread all over approximately ten square miles.

That means that there are about eleven thousand seven hundred and fifty seven households and eight thousand four hundred and forty one families residing in Manassas in the state of Virginia.

Outside a yellow brick house with black tile as roof, stood a female social worker. She was heavy build, with shoulder long curly hair in a reddish-brown color. She sighed, before she turned her head to look at the male social worker that had accompanied her to the house.

He was a large man, a strong one too, with a balding head whereon black hair had been previously. He was mid forty, almost nearing the fifty, but he was build strong enough to carry the nine year old boy, currently clinging to him. The boy was sound asleep, having been so for a while, and Denise, the female social worker, hadn't had it in her heart to wake him. He'd been through so much. A good nap of peace would surely do him better than the realities of consciousness.

"Come on, Cole," she smiled, before she started the small walk towards the house. Inside lived a man, she did not trust, yet he's gotten a great reputation when it came to fostering children. He had five of them at the moment, all ranging between the ages of twelve and seventeen, so clearly the newest member of the family would be the youngest.

When they reached the door, Denise knocked softly before a large man opened it. He smiled broadly when he saw Denise, and even more when he saw the young boy in Cole's arms. "Denise," he greeted, leaning in to hug her. He pulled away, and nodded towards the other. "Cole, please, come in."

"Thank you Brian," Denise replied, before she stepped over the doorstep, soon followed by Cole Anderson. They took a seat on the couch, and slowly the young boy had started to awaken. Denise sat between the boy and Cole, gently applying pressure as she ran her hand up and down his back, encouraging him to open the eyes completely. "Welcome back, Spencer," she grinned.

The young boy shrugged, before he leaned in, away from Cole, and rested his head underneath Denise's arm. Brian observed the whole ordeal, mildly questioning the young boy's actions, though saved it. Half of the kids he'd taken in acted weird, but he guessed it came from being in the system

"I've made tea," Brian's wife Rebecca grinned, as she entered the living room. She placed the tray on the coffee table, before she lifted her head and eyed Spencer. "Oh, you must be Spencer," she beamed, before she took a seat next to her husband. "My name's Rebecca, though I've told all of your siblings to merely call me Becky."

Spencer made no reaction to the introduction though, other than pressing his head closer to Denise's chest, as if wanting to be absorbed in there to forever hide and vanish. As cute as it looked, it broke both of the foster parents' hearts. It could've been an act out of shyness, though with the possibly background of Spencer, they both doubted that. They'd gotten warnings before agreeing to take Spencer in; warnings of his past.

"Spencer," Denise's voice rang through. "Is there anything you'd like to tell the Owens?" she questioned. Spencer shook his head, no. "Well," she said, returning back to Brian and Becky. "Spencer is, as you're told on the phone and as it says in his folder, nine years old. His birthday is December seventeenth nineteen seventy eight. He's a smart boy, excellent in math and physics and"

"Aren't Spencer a little too young to know about physics?" Becky barked in, staring down at the young boy, hiding underneath the chubby arm, fear in his eyes. "He's nine. Shouldn't he start with physics when he's at least in his teens?"

Denise smiled, though still let out a small sigh as she looked down at the boy; everyone's eyes seemed to be transfixed on him, making Spencer slightly uncomfortable. "As I said, then Spencer's a smart boy, and should be given schoolwork for a child of twelve or thirteen, depending on the subject and the severity of the subject."

"Oh," both of the Owens said, looking at the small boy in front of them. "Well," Brian said, plastering a smile on his face. "We've got both a twelve year old and a thirteen year old, so Spencer could just join in with them during a turtoring session. Would you like that, Spencer?"

They all stared at the boy again. Denise could feel how Spencer tried to shrink between her chest and her arm. "Spencer," she said gently. "Mr. Owen asked you a question, honey." Still Spencer remained silent, so Denise let out a disappointed deep breath, before she looked up, trying to give the Owens her best smile. "I am sure Spencer would love that."

Brian huffed a little, staring at the young boy in front of him, while his wife nodded slowly. She tried again. "Spencer, would you like to go meet your siblings, while Denise and Cole stays behind to talk to my husband and I for just a moment?"

Spencer's eyes widened with fear, his arms coming around the older, chubby woman who he was leaning against. "Spencer, dear, go with your siblings to see your new room. I've met all of the Owens kids and they're wonderful. Nothing to be afraid of." She looked up and nodded.

Becky smiled, "Derek," she called in a soft voice and soon a young black boy came rushing down the stairs. He gave Spencer a long good look, before he turned his Becky. "Could you please take Spencer to your room, please?"

"Sure," he mumbled, being known as one who didn't say more than necessary, before he walked over to the young boy. Spencer had to be helped a little, mainly by applying pressure on his back, hoisting him up to follow Derek, but in the end he did.

They both walked slowly towards the stairs, Derek being very careful with the boy, even holding his hand. Once they'd both disappeared up the stairs, Denise turned to the Owens and sighed. "He's been through so much," she sighed, shaking her head. "I see cases like these all the time; abuse is no stranger when it comes to children in foster care, but it's still hard."

"Understandable," Becky said, both of the women having an expression of sadness on their faces, while both of the men wore disgust. "How much has he suffered? You said that he was different than the other children. Did you only mean with his intelligence or?"

"No, and yes, both actually. Spencer's mind is extremely ahead of his years, which has indicated a lot of bullying. He's been in classes with children several years older than he was. He's never had a great friend or any at all actually."

Becky sighed, her heart breaking even more if that was possible. She had a few of them in care already, but young Spencer just had some sort of innocence about him. "And his family? How old was he? What happened?"

"Spencer's mom was diagnosed with schizophrenia when Spencer was nearly a year old. His father, William, ran away, leaving Spencer alone in the house. Four days went by before someone finally did something and by then, he was severely starved and dehydrated, having a rash between his butt and penis due to the neglected hygiene."

"Oh my God," Becky exclaimed, while Brian leaned in to hug his wife as support. "That's terrible!"

Denise nodded, "indeed," she agreed. "They never found William Reid, so police believed him to have changed his identity or started a new life outside of the United States." She paused, before she turned a couple of pages in Spencer's folder, reading a little. "Then there's Spencer's past."

"Yes," Brian said, moving a little closer. All of them ignored Cole, but he didn't mind. He was a recurrence, as they called it, to make sure that no one hurt Denise. He sat silently in the far end of the couch, sipping to his tea.

"Spencer has been in and out of foster homes since the age of two and a half. The first one was nearly a copycat of what William Reid did. The Smith family went on vacation and left their at the time fourteen year old daughter in charge of a young child and then Spencer. When they got back, they'd excused themselves to the police that they'd hired a nanny, though she hadn't seen to appear. The next time it was the Brown family, where children seemed to die under mysterious circumstances. Of course we had to budge in and remove Spencer immediately from their care."

"Of course," Becky agreed, her fingers tightening around her husband's, as they listened to what the social worker had to say.

"Then lastly it was the Holst family. He was there, alongside a girl a couple of years younger. They seemed nice enough, but slowly the school started to notice a change of behavior with Spencer, as did we, when we went to visit them for a check-up. We pulled them in and tested him and the signs showed that Spencer, as well as his foster sister, had been victims of emotional and physical abuse as well as sexual."

The Owens gasped. That poor kid, Spencer, had been raped, at the tender age of nine. Actually, even younger, considering that he'd stayed with the Holsts for more than year, going on two. They'd never experienced this before with any of their foster children. Sure, a great deal of their children had suffered abuse in various extends, but never to the level where it became sexual.

They spoke for an hour or two more, before they told Denise goodbye. Denise was convinced that leaving without goodbye would be what was best for Spencer at the moment, and the Owens and Cole had all agreed. When they were alone, Becky turned to her husband, leaning in for a warm embrace, letting him comfort her with his presence.

Lastly, when they two pulled away, they listed up the stairs to see what their children were doing, and more importantly, to see how their newest member for their family was doing. They slowly opened the door to the girls' room and found it empty.

Then they turned and opened the boys' room, and the sight filled their hearts. On the bed sat Spencer, his knees pulled close to his chest, but with large, curios eyes peaking out from behind his too big glasses. Derek sat next to him, talking, while he played with an airplane. A plane was tightly held in Spencer's hand, but the parents didn't seem to notice it before later.

On the other bed sat Aaron, their oldest, silently observing the others with a hidden smile on his thin lips. Aaron was a boy of few, if any words, but he was a good boy. Emily and their youngest daughter J.J. sat on the floor with their school work thrown aside. Now they were merely talking, much like Derek, while they tried to get Spencer to join in on the game.

Penelope smiled and laughed in between, before she turned and played with the boys' computer. Becky leaned in towards her husband, who in return placed his arms around her, landing on her hip. "We're doing great," she whispered.

"Sure are," Brian agreed. "He's going to be okay. As are we. We're a family."