Trigger warning; heavy stuff, kind of like the second episode of season twelve.

Summary: After a harrowing case - a child murderer - you blame yourself for the death of a young victim. Spencer comforts you.

QOTP: Who is your favorite character from Criminal Minds?

Word Count: 1514

You just finished a particularly harrowing case - kids and an unsub with a horrible past. And... you failed to save a victim.

I mean, you failed to save the previous victims, but... you were so close. You nearly saved that girl - nine years old...

You and Tara got to the house first, and you insisted on going inside.

"We can't just sit here," you tell Tara.

She sighs, "Look, I know, but it's too risky to go in without back up. Besides, going in might make it worse."

You sit in silence for two more seconds before making up your mind; there's a child in there, and back up or not, you're going in.

You open the door and start sprinting towards the house. Tara starts whisper-yelling at you, "Y/N! Y/N, stop!"

She runs after you as you sprint into the house. "FBI!" you shout. You hear noises in the back bedroom and run inside, gun raised. "FBI! DROP THE WEAPON!"

The man is standing with a knife over the girl, who's already bleeding. Tara runs up behind you. "Drop the weapon!"

The man leans down as if to set the knife on the floor, but... doesn't.

Tara pulls the trigger and you drop to the floor, holding the girl in your arms. You hear sirens. "MEDIC!"

Tara checks the killer's pulse, but you don't gather much else. The girl is crying. "It's gonna be okay, I promise," you tell her. She weakly nods.

"MEDIC!" you scream. People run in and take the girl from you.

////

Spencer runs in the room and finds you sitting on floor, blood on your arms. He crouches down next to you.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I... I'm..."

He gently helps you stand up and takes you to a medic, who concludes that you have no injuries and cleans you up.

The ambulance that took the girl to the hospital is long gone. Spencer helps you take off your vest, then wraps a shock blanket around you.

On the plane, you sit by yourself completely silent. You periodically glance over at Spencer, who's reading on the couch. Once, when you look over, he's already looking at you worriedly. He quickly looks away.

A half hour later, Luke and Tara walk over to you and sit across from you. You just look at them.

"I know I'm the new guy," Luke says, "but... I just want you to know it's not your fault."

"You're right," you reply after a pause, "you are the new guy."

"Y/N," Tara says, "it wasn't your fault."

"No, it wasn't," you say with an edge to your voice. "It was yours!" Everyone turns to you surprised, but no one says anything. You continue to scream at Tara. "If we had run in earlier, that girl might still be alive! If-If you didn't say anything-"

"Y/N, none of that would have made a difference. And even if it would have, there was no way you could've known," Rossi says calmly.

You stand from your seat and yell at him. "You have no room to talk, Rossi! You were late! All of you! All of you were late! We could've prevented this!"

You have tears in your eyes and you furiously wipe them away and sit back down in your seat, turning away from everyone. They just looks at you sadly; they know you don't mean it.

After a few minutes, you hear a quiet, "Y/N?"

"Shut up, Spencer," you snap. You immediately regret it, but you don't take it back. A few seconds later, you hear the pages of his book turning at a steady pace, and it lulls you to sleep.

You have a nightmare about the girl and wake up half an hour later, then ride out the rest of the plane ride in silence. You hear quiet whispers between the other team members.

Two hours later, it's late at night and you're a mess. You don't know where to go, what to do.

So, you go to Reid's.

He's your best friend; you can't remember what life was like without him. It's like he's always been there, even though you've only known him for 10 years.

And he's the only one you can go to right now.

You're still in your work clothes, you have dried tear tracks on your cheeks, and it's 4 in the morning.

You knock on Spencer's door and wait for him to open up. After about half a minute, you knock again. Then, you knock again. Finally, he opens the door, shirtless, disgruntled, exhausted, and rubbing his eyes.

"Wh-" he starts, but then he sees your face and he immediately lets you in. Wordlessly, he pulls you to his chest and hugs you as though you'd fall apart if he ever let go. You hug him back weakly, knowing that you would.

You choke out an, "I'm so sorry," through tears.

He rubs your back and whispers a quiet, "It's okay." After a few minutes, he finally says, "Wanna talk about it?"

"Y-Yeah," you whisper, after a pause. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and leads you to the couch. Then, he wraps a blanket around you, and goes into the kitchen to make tea.

After the tea is done, he hands you a plain, red mug, identical to his own. As it warms your hands, you utter out a quiet, "Thank you."

Then, you sit in silence for about five minutes. He doesn't say anything, doesn't push you, just waits for you to say something.

"I'm sorry... about the plane."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he says, stating it as if he had said, "The sun is a star."

"No, I do," you argue. "I yelled at you - and the rest of the team."

"You didn't mean it. We know that."

You retreat back into silence and sip your tea, glancing over at Reid's mug. He's holding it with both hands, like you'd imagine a child would. You almost smile, and then immediately feel guilty about it.

"I could've saved her," you say bitterly. He lets you vent about this part, not interrupting, hardly evening moving.

"I-I was right there. I should've known what he would do; it was in our profile. He has to finish it, everything has to go according to his plan. I should've known...

"I should've run in faster. I should've done something to prevent this. I was right there; I could've carried her outside, I could've waited for back up. I mean, he hadn't done much when we ran in. She could've lived. Her parents could be sobbing with joy tonight instead of grief.

"And when I apologized over and over again for not being there, for not saving her, you know what they said? Her parents? That it wasn't my fault. That they're just glad that the guy who did it is dead. I mean... have you ever heard of something like that? If I was them, I'd blame me."

You go silent, so Spencer speaks. "You aren't them and you are blaming you."

"Because it's my fault!" you shout.

Spencer sets his mug on the table, then grabs yours and puts it next to his. Then, he grabs your hands and looks you in your bloodshot eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

"But-"

"Just listen to me, okay?" He moves his hands and rests them on your shoulders. "You can say anything you want; you can think up every 'should have' and 'could have' in the book. The thing is, you didn't. Not because you didn't care, not because you weren't doing your absolute best and then some. Because there was no way you could've known.

"I would've done the same thing if I was you; I would've ran straight in that house without a second thought."

You lean your forehead on his chest and he wraps his arms around you. You begin to sob again.

"When-When I was holding her... I was so afraid to move her..."

"I know."

"She-She was so scared, Spence, you could see it. In her eyes... they were so blue, Spence..."

"I know."

He holds you for the next half hour before you finally calm down a bit. You get a tissue off the coffee table and blow your nose. Spencer goes back into his room and hands you one of his t-shirts and a pair of plaid pajama pants.

"You actually own a t-shirt?" you ask incredulously.

He shrugs, a small smile on his face. "Yeah."

It's a Doctor Who t-shirt.

You go to the bathroom to change and catch a glimpse of your reflection, then immediately look away.

Once you're changed, you sit, cuddled with Spencer, watching cartoons for the next hour until you fall asleep.