Chapter 9

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HERE YA GO FOLKS!!!!!! reminder to vote/comment and go to my tumblr mjwritesfics for more content!!!! also this is the longest chapter yet so ENJOY

tags: a lil angst, a lotta smut

(also i put a lil gif because when i write this i'm picturing season 13 Reid although use ur imagination<33)

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"Y/N," Spencer's sweet whispers stir you from your sleep, his breath hot on your face. Opening your eyes a tad, you groan at the brightness of the room. "It's time to wake up. You'll never sleep tonight if you don't get up now." 

"I don't wanna," you grumble, burying your face against his chest. Spencer chuckles at your childlike demeanor, sweetly rubbing your back. "Just let me sleep, please" 

"No," he answers. Sighing, you pull back and adjust to the daylight, smiling unconsciously at the sight of Spencer's face. He looks worried, understandably. "What would make you feel better?" 

"Bring that fucker back to life so I can kill him myself," you grumble. It's psychologically unsound, you know that. And petty. Not to mention impossible. But it's still what you wanted. 

Spencer sighs defeatedly, looking at you for cues. His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking the tear-stained flesh lightly. 

"The others have been asking for you all morning," he informs you. "They know what happened and want to support you. Especially Penelope, she's been trying to bust the door down since sunrise. If you don't want to see them, that's fine, but they're asking questions." 

"What kind of questions?" you ask, despite knowing the answer. 

"Why only I was allowed in here," he says plainly, a twinkle of arrogance gracing his eyes for a split second. You lift your head, lips meeting his in a needy kiss, a whimper escaping your mouth when he takes control. Finally pulling back, he grins. "And they want to know that you're alright."  

"I will be," you shrug indifferently. But deep down, you believe it to be true. "Just in shock, is all. Why start a new family after killing your old one? And why the hell would he have kept a photo of Willow and I for all of those years?" 

"Remorse," is all Spencer can say. "My guess is he got down to South America, found sobriety, and realized what he'd done." 

"I doubt he found sobriety," you scoff, remembering the full-on battles of your childhood. 

"I read the M.E. report while you were asleep," Spencer's arms tighten around you. "No illicit drugs or alcohol in his system at the time of death, and no track marks or skin punctures to suggest he was using. It suggests he was fully sober, because if he was actively using the way you said he used to, there's no way he'd let it get to the point with zero traces in his system before the next fix." 

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