There were three worlds in this entire universe that the lithe brunette knew he needed to hear, three words out of the thousands that existed. He knew those words were too often used, seldom held truth, and were the root cause of so much pain and hate - and yet he needed them. He needed to hear them as badly as he needed oxygen, he needed them to be whispered, to be shouted, to me purred, to be snarled. He knew, beyond a reasonable doubt, that those three words would change his life. And he was, after all, a genius, so he was most certainly going to be right about that.

In hindsight, of course, he should have known those three words would not, in fact, change his life for the better necessarily. He knew the statistics, he knew the risks, he knew the probabilities. He calculated each possible scenario, he calculated each pro and each con - it was what he did, it was what he knew. And, in the end, it was why he never sought those words out or entertained the idea of ever being told them. He kept those desires locked away in a tiny box in his mind for a rainy day and lonesome fantasy. His life wasn't a fairytale, of this he was painfully obvious, and he was far from the prince in shining armor. That role was reserved for the perfect skinned, perfect personalitied, perfect specimen that was Derek Morgan. The fairytale romance was secured for Morgan and, most likely, Penelope Garcia - Derek's baby girl. But then Derek met Savannah and everything the genius once believed, was thrown for a loop. Derek Morgan would not get his fairytale ending with Penelope Garcia, and Spencer Reid would not have the promise made to him fulfilled.

Derek once promised to never leave him, once promised that, no matter what, he would protect Spencer. And Spencer believed him. Despite what happened with his father. Despite what happened with Gideon. He trusted Derek, and he had since he first met the dark skinned man. He trusted Derek with his life more than anyone else. He trusted Derek with secrets not even his mother or journal knew. Derek was his rock, his protector, his best friend. Derek was the beacon always calling him back home, always keeping him sane, always lighting the path when it was too dark for Spencer to see clearly. And Derek left as if nothing was ever said, as if Spencer was nothing more than a passing stranger, as if Spencer had never meant anything to him but a hindrance, and Spencer fell. His world lit up with flames of anger, of pain, of sorrow, of hate - hate for himself, hate for the man he considered his best friend, hate for how screwed up the world was. And so he took a break, took a few weeks off from the BAU and drowned his sorrows in working on finding a cure for his mother. And when he came back, he saw the look in JJ's eyes, saw the way Emily watched him when she thought he wasn't looking, saw the way Rossi hesitated before speaking, saw the way Penelope smiled at him in a way he had never seen her smile before, a smile that spoke of her own sadness at the departure of the Agent. The minute he saw Luke Alvez, he knew why Penelope disliked him so much, for she saw in him what Spencer himself saw - similarities too close for comfort to the chocolate skinned man that had betrayed them both.

At first, Spencer behaved much like Penelope in her dislike, and distrust, of the new man. He was simply better at hiding it, better at being subtle with his distrust. Eventually, Spencer's hatred grew to mere discomfort, and from discomfort it fell to Luke become a simply acquaintance. Not a friend, like JJ or Emily or Rossi or Penelope - not even Tara could be classified as such despite her time with the unit. And then Spencer was arrested, and all he wanted was his protector, all he wanted was Derek to wrap him in that one armed hug and promise to figure out how to get Spencer out of that. All he wanted was Derek's warm voice, Derek's soothing whispers. Just Derek. But Derek wasn't there. Alvez was, and suddenly Alvez wasn't so terrible anymore. Alvez moved from Alvez to Luke, and Luke became a cautious friend. His voice wasn't as deep, wasn't as kind, wasn't as expressive, wasn't as warm - but it was enough for Spencer to feel safe again, even if only just a bit. So when he made the list for those he would allow into the Prison, he scrawled Derek's name first, and then scribbled it out. Twelve and a half times he wrote the name, and thirteen times he scribbled the letters out before starting a new page, Luke's name, this time, was entered instead of Derek's.

And when the case was over, when he was finally safe and home and just about to tuck himself into bed, he froze when he heard a knock, the steady, harsh rap of knuckles on the wood of his door jarring him out of the safety he had felt only moments before and his hand curled around the gun he'd placed beneath his pillow, and he moved slowly for the door, steps light and careful, avoiding the piles of books strewn across the floors with an instinctive ease, and just as he was about to call out that he was armed, he heard that voice, warm and deep and comforting. "Pretty Boy," were the only words he needed as he unlatched the dozens of locks he'd installed only an hour before, the only words he needed as he pulled that wood door open and stared hesitantly at the slightly taller male, fidgeting nervously and trying to hide the gun. Derek, however, was still a profiler, no matter his new occupation, and his eyes grew sad before Spencer was enveloped in a bone crushing hug that sent warmth and safety ricocheting through him, crashing into him like a tsunami until he felt the weight of the gun leave his hands, replaced with the soft fabric of Derek's shirt, and then the sobs came.

They started small, just silent shaking of his shoulders, and then the whimpers started; the whimpers grew to silent sobs, and then his grip tightened and he screamed and cried his fears and anger into the dark man's shirt, pounding fitfully against Derek's chest until the hug grew so tight he couldn't move, but the sobs continued. They continued when Derek lifted him, they continued when Derek settled them on the couch, they continued when Derek began rocking him, they continued as Derek spoke to Diana, they continued until nearly three in the morning, when Spencer was finally too tired to keep crying, and then the call came, and the sobs continued. All of them; JJ and Emily and Rossi and Luke and Tara - an accident. Scratch. Hospital. Not good. The only words he could make out from Derek's frowning lips as he spoke to someone, most likely a frantic Penelope. And that was how, at 4:15 A.M, Dr. Spencer Reid found himself staring at the painfully white walls, a cup of gag-worthy coffee held in his hands, a frazzled Penelope typing furiously at her computer, and Derek Morgan talking silently to the doctors for updates on their team. A team, Spencer realized, he never told those three words to.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the First Chapter of "A Guardian's Promise" - I hope to update this once or twice a week, depending on my weekly schedule. This will most likely be a slash Fic - either Luke x Spencer or perhaps Derek x Spencer - maybe even Luke x Spencer x Derek, I haven't decided yet! If you enjoyed it, or have some questions or comments, please feel free to leave a comment, they are greatly appreciated. This starts off at the end of Season 12's Finale!