"Spencer? Spencer, you have a visitor."

A young man with brown, limp curls hanging in front of his face looked up from the book he was reading to meet the face that owned the voice.

"A visitor? But who would possibly be visiting me?" Spencer scoffed, running his long, thin fingers through his messy hair.

"I'll take it from here, Doctor, thank you," a tall older man with raven hair and a stone cold expression on his face walked up behind the man who told Spencer of his presence.

"I'll be down the hall in the lobby if you need me," the doctor informed the man as he left him alone with Spencer.

"Spencer Reid?" Spencer nodded curtly, "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI," the man said reaching his hand out to Spencer, which was waved off by the younger man.

"FBI? What does the FBI want with me?" Spencer asked, pushing himself out from his desk to face the man head on.

"May I sit down?" Agent Hotchner asked, indicating the edge of Spencer's bed.

"By all means," Spencer gestured at bed.

As Agent Hotchner settled down into his seat, Spencer asked again, "So, what does the FBI want with me?"

"It's about your father-"

Spencer scoffed, "I haven't seen that bastard in ten years. All he does for me is pay this place so I can stay here."

Spencer saw Agent Hotchner's expression soften a little and wasn't prepared for his next words, "He's been murdered, Spencer."

Agent Hotchner watched as Spencer's expression changed from annoyed to utter disbelief, "W-w-what? No… he just sent my monthly check last week," Spencer sprang from his seat, "why are you telling me and not my mother?"

"Well, you're younger and more in touch with reality than your mother is, and you're your father's next of kin," Agent Hotchner said, rising from his seat as well, "please, sit back down."

Spencer did as he was told. He sat back down, crossing one leg over the other and pulling himself into his own arms, hugging himself. After taking a deep breath and calming himself, Spencer asked, "But, both me and my mother are locked up in this place. What makes you think I'm anymore sane than she is?" Spencer's lips formed a mocking smirk.

"Either way, we have to inform someone from his family and since your grandparents are no longer among the living and your father was an only child…" Agent Hotchner looked to Spencer, making sure the boy understood him.

Spencer sighed, "Alright, I understand. So, what do you need from me exactly?"

"I need to know anything and everything about your father. Anything that can help us profile the man who killed him."

Spencer's head shot up and met the agent's eyes, "Profile? You're a profiler? Like the BAU, with David Rossi?"

Agent Hotchner eyed the boy curiously, "What do you know about the BAU and Agent Rossi?"

Spencer laughed excitedly and spun his chair towards his desk, "See for yourself," he said, placing the book he had been reading onto the Agent's lap, "I've read every single one of his books."

Aaron stared dumbfounded at the book that was resting on his legs. This was a book on profiling that his friend David Rossi had written. A young schizophrenic mental ward patient had read his books?

Spencer seemed to have understood the older man's confused expression, "Just because I'm ill doesn't mean I'm stupid and incapable of understanding what he writes about. I actually find the BAU quite intriguing."

Agent Hotchner looked at Spencer, "I never meant to offend you, I just haven't met many non-university students or professionals in either law enforcement or medical who are this interested in what we do."

"Trust me, agent, if my father hadn't sent me here, I would be studying to be an agent," Spencer's voice fell down to almost a whisper as he turned away from the agent.

Aaron looked at the young man, so innocent and hurt by his father, and he was here giving the news about his death, asking him to help find his killer. He almost felt despicable.

"Spencer, if you mind my asking, why did your father send you here?" Agent Hotchner's voice became soft, yet still professional.

Spencer glanced up at the man staring back at him. His big, almost black eyes seemed to be staring into his soul, "My mother was admitted when I was 14. She's been… unhinged ever since I can remember. One day, she just snapped. Our neighbors were concerned and the police were called. They held her in jail for a few days before they finally tracked down my god damn father. My father told them to just take her away, put her into an institution somewhere," Spencer paused and took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from faltering, "They did a psych eval on her and she was diagnosed with schizophrenia and admitted here, Bennington Sanitarium. After that, I was alone. They told my father he had to take care of me, of course he didn't. He was scared that I would turn out like my mother. He avoided me but the doctors here assured him schizophrenia would not be apparent until I turned 18. Sure enough, on my 18th birthday, he had me admitted as well."

Other than the few pauses he took to contain himself, Spencer's explanation felt like a ramble to Agent Hotchner. He couldn't believe the young man could talk so fast.

"But were you ever actually diagnosed?" Aaron studied the young man. He was withdrawn, sure, but that was probably because they had him on some sort of medication. The way he was interacting with the agent showed no signs of schizophrenic behavior, even from one who was medicated.

Spencer shrugged, "They tested me. Told me I had signs of paranoia. But never actually said I had schizophrenia. But really, of course I'm going to be paranoid from having parents like mine. One got locked up because she's crazy and the other never gives me the time of day," Spencer looked up at the agent, "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I'm complaining. You only want to do your job and I'm giving you a sob story," Spencer stared at his feet and rubbed his left arms with his right hand.

"No, no it's ok. You are actually helping, Spencer," Aaron smiled slightly at the young man, trying to comfort him.

"Really?" Spencer's head snapped up.

"Yes. But you have to tell me one thing… before you were admitted, what kind of drug did you get addicted to?"

Spencer stared at the man before realizing, duh, he's a profiler, "Dilaudid," he said, biting his lip.

Aaron nodded, "it kept off the pain, didn't it? The pain of being away from your mother. The pain of your father abandoning you."

"I get it, I'm in a lot of pain," Spencer retorted a little harshly before recoiling and ducking his head again, "sorry."

"No need to apologize," Aaron kept his voice calm and placed his hand on the young man's knee, "Spencer, I can't begin to imagine your past, but just know, here, now, you're safe. And I won't judge you."

The young man looked up and met Aaron's eyes and nodded, "so what do you have so far? Any other victims besides my father?" Spencer was eager to help and Agent Hotchner could tell.

"Two others. Both middle aged men like your father, both residents of the Las Vegas area. Both were divorced with children. That's all we have."

"Did you check to see if there was any unpaid child support? Or if the wives or children had mental illnesses? Signs of an abandoning father, essentially," Spencer asked the man.

Agent Hotchner stared at Spencer. He spoke so professionally and seemed to know what he was talking about.

"Spencer, did you finish high school after your mother left?" Aaron tilted his head.

"Before, actually," Spencer chuckled at the man's reaction, "I graduated at age 12 and was taking college classes when my mother was taken away. And before you ask, my IQ is 187."

"We could use a mind like yours down at the BAU," Agent Hotchner's voice dropped to a thoughtful tone before he sat in silence for a moment, "come on," he said, standing up quickly.

"Where are we going?" Spencer said, quickly jumping up and following the man.

"Excuse me, Doctor? Who do I speak to about checking out a patient?" Spencer's mouth dropped as he stared at the agent.

"Right this way, sir," the two men were whisked down the hall to a small office. The man who escorted them opened a filing cabinet and withdrew a file, "let's see… Spencer Reid… Only living family..." the man looked up at Spencer then to Aaron, "His only living family, as of today, is also a patient. Since he is over the age of 18, he has full responsibility for himself, if he passes a psych eval of course."

"Set one up straight away, we need this man as a consultant for the FBI in Quantico, Virginia."