You and Spencer had been inseparable since you both joined the BAU. He was your best friend, your better half. You had been there through his darkest moments, and he’d been there through yours.

Which was what made it so much harder when he left the team.

Officially, it was only a sabbatical, but you both knew deep down that he wasn’t coming back. He had so much on his plate with caring for his mother and his new job as a professor, something had to come to an end, and it only felt natural that it was his time with the BAU.

“Just don’t forget about Thursday Thai night,” You’d teased him, knowing he wouldn’t ever throw you aside like that. He had laughed, squeezing you in an embrace, before promising that he wouldn’t ever do that to you.

Weeks went by, and slowly, contact started to trail off. You could feel him isolating himself, and no matter how hard you tried, it never worked. Before you both knew it, there was no contact. You heard his name in passing from Emily and JJ mostly, but he had distanced himself so much from the team, it was like he had become nothing more than a ghost of your past.

And it hurt, it hurt so much. But you know that he had to do it. His past was still haunting him, even in his nightmares, and in order to start living again he needed to distance himself. From his job, from the team, from you too. You learnt to accept it, knowing that he could only benefit from this.

That doesn’t mean you didn’t miss him.

When Will suddenly died, you all knew JJ needed the support. You all rallied around her, holding her during the funeral, supporting her two boys as well. You were genuinely touched to see that both Hotch and Morgan had sent bouquets—carefully picked, with little cards that made your chest ache. You overheard Emily mentioning that Spencer had sent one too. “All I got was a text from him,” she had muttered.

A text. It was even weird for you to think that he would send a text. It shouldn’t have stung the way it did. But it did. It settled into your chest. It’s strange how time stretches and warps people. Once, he wouldn’t go a single day without checking in. Now, he sends a message like he’s writing to a stranger.

You tried to let it go.

Before the ceremony began, you noticed Penelope’s quiet gasp beside you. Your eyes followed hers—and there he was. Spencer. Sitting beside her like he’d never left.

You should’ve felt relieved. JJ needed him. Michael and Henry needed him. He was his godfather. Of course he’d come for them. But your relief twisted into something else the moment his eyes slid past you. Like you were invisible, just another face in the crowd. Like you hadn’t been the person who once held him while he shattered. It felt like yesterday when you held him after Gideon’s funeral, when he showed up at your door at 2AM, grieving Maeve. You were the one who made him eat, who forced him to sleep, who knew every corner of his damage because you memorized it—because you loved him, even if you would never admit that— to him or to yourself. But you hadn’t spoken in so long. Not since he left. Not since he pulled away and never came back.

And now he was here, grieving with all of you. He was home.

The ceremony was brutal in its honesty. JJ, Penelope, Emily—they all spoke with voices that cracked and trembled, recounting the kind of love that people wait their whole lives for. Twenty years of marriage. Two decades of shared mornings and little routines, ended in an instant—Will collapsing in JJ’s arms in the kitchen they’d built with laughter and paint-stained hands.

Everyone was sobbing by the end.

Outside, the team slowly gathered again. Spencer moved through them with that same soft grace he always had—hugging Garcia, Luke and then Tara. She also introduced him to Rebecca. He even shared a laugh with Tyler, the team’s latest addition. It was like watching someone else wear his skin.

And then it was your turn. But he looked at you. The kind of gaze that once made you feel known, safe.

He smiled, barely.

“{{user}},” he said softly. “Hey.”