Just a tiny little one shot about Spencer. And, yes, there is a teeny bit of slash in here. To those that don't like that, don't read this. Thank you. :)

All it took was one look. One small little glance in which his quick mind took in every single detail of the photo. One look for him to see the track marks in the man's elbow. One look to see the vials lying nearby, the tourniquet still on his arm, the needle lying by his side. The slash marks in his stomach were glossed over. The blood pooling all around him could have just been paint in the background. Just like that, with one look, Spencer was taken to a different time, a different place.

He saw himself lying on the bathroom floor. He remembered that euphoric feeling floating inside his body. Pain free, as he'd rarely felt at the time. His mind calm, not racing with painful thoughts and memories, not taunting him anymore with his weakness. Just that euphoria, sparking on all his nerve endings, taking to a higher plane, a better place where everything felt so good. In that instant, Spencer swore he could feel it all over again. He could practically taste it.

His hand clutched convulsively, almost as if he had a vial there. The urge to reach up and clutch the inside of his elbow was almost irresistible. But somehow he did resist. Somehow he locked his body down and kept completely still. But he felt his mouth water and his body ache. Oh, how he wanted in it that moment. In that one glance. He wanted the high again. He wanted the freedom.

No. No, he would not do that to himself again! He wouldn't go down that route again. The high was like sheer heaven, yes. But the come down, the withdrawal, were pure hell. The person it turned him into was not someone he ever wanted to become again. That angry, snarling beast that pushed away everyone he loved, snapping at them when they reached out to try and help him, hating them and making them hate him. Hurting them. No, he couldn't do that to himself and he couldn't do it to them.

The mind and the body don't always work together, though. His mind told him he didn't need this, didn't want it anymore. But his body screamed with wanting it and swore that he needed it almost as much as he needed air to breathe. Trembles started working their way through his fingers as the craving flooded him full force.

Without warning the picture was gone from in front of him, no longer there for him to see. It had only taken five seconds at the most from when he'd picked it up before someone took it from him, yet it felt like five years. Even with the picture gone, the image was still there in the forefront of his mind, drawing out other images to taunt him with.

A hand grasped one of his, holding it tightly, drawing it down under the table so that the trembles weren't as visible. He put his other hand down too, sitting on it to try and keep it from shaking so badly. But he didn't let go of the hand that held his. He clutched at it like the lifeline it was, drawing strength from the contact, needing that physical reminder of where he was and that he was not alone. That he would never be alone again. Looking down, he focused on the contrast in skin, the different between his and the hand that was holding his. Dark and light. Black and white. Chocolate and cream. There were so many comparisons.

Yet they still fit together, the same as they had for the past year. Though there were still many days that Spencer woke amazed, hardly able to believe that someone like this loved him, he never turned away from it. No, he would roll over in bed, bringing himself closer, marking the differences between them and yet reveling in the way those differences seemed to mesh so perfectly together until they were a unit. There was no just Reid anymore, or just Morgan. They were Spencer and Derek. Derek and Spencer. One name was not said without the other.

He held tightly to Morgan's hand, letting it ground him, letting it keep him close to the here and now, even if it didn't quite shut off the pain and images in his brain. Even if it couldn't take away the need that was ripping him apart. He held on because it let him know that he could do this and he was not doing it alone.

A cool, damp cloth was placed on the back of his neck, feeling like a small slice of Heaven. He felt the gentle hand stroke at the bottom of his hair and knew without looking that it was Emily who'd put the cloth there. Emily who was letting him know in her own silent way that she was there for him and she understood as best as she could.

Across from him, Dave picked up the map and slid it over to him along with the markers he would need. The unspoken words were there, offering him a little salvation in the form of work. Dave was giving him something to focus on, to draw his mind from its torture, knowing that Spencer needed the distraction and what better to do than work? Lives depended on their work. If he focused on that, on making the geographic profile, maybe it would help him find the calm inside again.

He felt the chair next to him draw out only moments before there was a warm presence there. Part of Spencer's mind registered that it was his boss sitting beside him. But Aaron said nothing to him. Not a word of rebuke or warning or comfort. He simply sat there, files in hand, a stack in front of him, and started to read as if there was nothing going on. As if he didn't notice that his subordinate was sweating slightly, or that his trembles were spreading, small muscle spasms jerking him here and there.

Aaron wouldn't say anything, he knew. He would simply sit there, a firm pillar of strength, offering support in the way he did best. He was almost like a guard, protecting Spencer from others while he was weakened like this and maybe even protecting him from himself if he couldn't keep it under control. Knowing that someone was there to do that actually eased some of Spencer's tension. Aaron wouldn't let him break apart. He wouldn't let anyone harm him and he wouldn't let Spencer harm himself. Not ever again.

None of them would. Because they were more than just co-workers, more than just friends. They were family. And family looked after one another. Even though he had once fallen so far, so low, they were still there. They were by his side, each of them helping in their own way, keeping him upright. In moments like these, when he felt like he was so close to crashing back down, back into the pit that he had once let swallow him, he knew that they would be there. Each one of them would help to hold him up when he couldn't hold himself.

All it took was one look. One look around the room, taking in each face around him. Each person that meant so much to him in their own way. With just a glance, he saw the love on their faces, the support. He felt the love well up inside of him in return. His trembles stilled—not completely, but enough that he could reach out and grab a marker, pulling the map close. Just like that, with one look, Spencer knew he would make it. With a family like his, how could he do anything else?