I own nothing. Please R and R.

A young Spencer Reid stared at his favorite book, now ripped to shreds on the floor. It wasn't that big of a deal. People did things like that to him all the time. But this…was slightly different. This wasn't just a random person with some hidden vendetta against him. This was Timothy, and Timothy never did anything like this to him before… Timothy was his only friend.

"W-Why?"

"Because! I want to be exactly like you, but you won't let me! You wont tell me what's going on in your life! WHY! I just want to understand you! Me and you…were a pair! We are both so smart, so… So why wont you let me be your best friend! Let me be the one person who understands what you are going through!" 'No, you don't understand! It's not something you WANT to go through! I wouldn't wish it upon anyone, why are you asking something so…hard?'

"It's not something you can simply understand just like that. It's my life."

…

Reid sprung up in his bed, a cold sweat covering his face. It wasn't particularly a nightmare, but it was….traumatizing, in a way.

Sighing, Spencer sat up, forcing his stiff back to crack. He quickly hopped in the shower, shivering as the scalding water burned his back. He turned so the water was mostly on his chest, instead of his back, before starting to scrub at his hair. He felt a strange sensation of bugs crawling on him, of fingers gripping his hair, of things he didn't want to feel, or remember.

Stepping out of the not-so-relaxing shower, he threw on something he typically would wear, making sure to add a vest over top. Making sure his tie was straight, he grabbed his go bag, then walked out his front door. He blatantly ignored the heavy, dark feeling he was getting. It was a bit early for it, considering he hadn't seen the graphic case they had to work on yet. But that didn't matter. He always ignored those feelings, today wouldn't be any different.

Riding the bus wasn't the best idea he had that day, considering it was pouring, and the bus' closest stop to the BAU was about a 15 minute walk from the office. And he forgot an umbrella.

Sighing as he climbed off the bus, he pulled the collar of his coat up, bracing himself for the onslaught of the crystal droplets. It was times like this he was grateful for cutting his hair. It didn't tickle his neck, people couldn't make fun of him for it, and when it got wet, it didn't make him freeze once he was finally out of the rain. And it looked better. Well, according to Morgan and Prentiss it did. He still liked it better a bit longer. It reminded him of the good days, with his mother, and father. Before things took a turn…

Shaking his head, Reid sped up his pace; weary of the wet ground, but not wanting to be out in the cold much longer. When the BAU came into view, Reid pushed himself just a bit harder, catching himself just before he could fall, than grabbed the handle. He fought to keep a proud, goofy grin off his face as he opened the door. That simply wasn't him.

Trudging up to the elevator, he climbed in, ringing out his tie as he did so. The journey to his floor was short lived, but it was enough time for the dream to come back to him. Timothy… He missed Timothy. The old Timothy.

The ding of the elevator made him jump, and he quickly walked out as the doors opened. Walking up to his desk, he placed his typical messenger bag down. He took his vest off, laying it down so it could drain of water.

"Hey, Pretty Boy, have a good journey?"

Reid forced a chuckle, muttering "I picked a bad day to ride the bus."

Morgan laughed whole heartedly, watching Reid shake like a wet dog. Prentiss walked out from the break room, setting down a cup of coffee and a bunch of sugar packets on Reid's desk. He gratefully dumped the sugar into the black liquid, ignoring the laughs from beside him.

"Here ya go." Prentiss handed Morgan his own cup before taking a sip of her own, her nose scrunching up at the foul taste. It wasn't good, but they all could use a pick me up.

"So, Reid, do anything fun over the break?"

"Nah, didn't get much sleep."

Morgan laughed, saying "Way to go kid! Get any digits?"

Reid sighed, playing right into Morgan's trap "Not like that and you know it."

Morgan ruffled Reid's hair, messing up the disorder atop his head. Before Prentiss or Morgan could rag on Spencer anymore, JJ appeared in the doorway.

"Sorry guys, weekends over, time to get back to work. We got a case, Hotch says briefing room in 5." She walked past them and headed toward Garcia's lair.

Reid let out a heavy sigh, pretending it was from relief instead of it being weighed down by the anxiety of his dreams over the last few days. He didn't know why it was all catching up with him, its not like Timothy ever did anything too drastic…right?

…

"Billy Grant, age 19, was killed by a blunt force object. Right now he is the sole victim, and the LVPD doesn't want to wait for another."

As JJ continued the briefing, Reid felt something oddly familiar about this. Age 19, killed with what seems to possibly be a hammer…. Oh…that's why.

"Reid…Reid! REID!"

Spencer jumped, flinching slightly at the gruff voice his boss used.

"U-Um, yes?" He felt the eyes of his teammates on him, but he couldn't look any of them in the eye. Instead, he focused on Hotch's tie, ignoring the blatant staring.

"I asked if you thought you could work out a geographic profile despite there being only one dump site."

"Oh, well yes. We have the area he was taken in, where he was dumped, and from that we can ask around and see where he hung out. From that I should be able-," "Ok, ok, Reid, we get it. Get started as soon as possible. Everyone, be on the jet within half an hour." As soon as he finished speaking, everyone stood and proceeded to their own individual tasks.

Reid remained in his seat, a horror stricken mess. There was no way. It wasn't possible, he knew it. Clearly, it had been so long in the past, and times had changed. But then….why was it so similar? It had to just be a coincidence. The logical part of his brain agreed readily with that. But it didn't matter. His heart, and the other part of his brain, told him otherwise. There was something fishy about this. And it was his job to find out what.