VIII

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Spencer stared after her, noting a swatch of Iridescent blue fabric on the floor, which upon further analysis was revealed to be her dress. That's why she had disappeared; she had on a change of clothes under her dress. He quickly folded up her dress slipping it under his jacket.

"Hey, Spence!" JJ called, walking up to the perplexed doctor. She looked back and forth. "Where did Penny go?" Spencer panicked.

"Uh, I gotta go. I'll see you on Monday."

"Reid-" she started, but Spencer turned on his heel and walked away. He shuffled through the crowd quickly, fighting through people that were laughing merrily. Once he finally got outside, he pressed his back against the brick exterior of the hotel, sagging against it. He reached inside his jacket, feeling a weird swirl of emotions as his fingers touched the chiffon. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Reid!" his eyes popped open, and he flagged down a cab in less than a minute after hearing Hotch's voice. He hopped into the car, tossing two twenties at the driver, giving her his address.

"But that's on the other side of-"

"Just go!" he said with exasperation. Just as Hotch ran up, the car sped away from the curb. Hotch sighed, his breath visible as Reid's taxi sped away.

"Hotch?" JJ said. Aaron turned around.

"He's gone. Are you sure something is up?" JJ's lips pressed together.

"He had her dress under his jacket... She was there once second and gone the next. Yes Hotch, something is up." He sighed.

"We can't force it out of him, no matter how much we try. Let him come to us. You can hint at it, but don't bring it up directly. Understood?"

"Understood." the wind whipped up, and as the two stood there, staring after Spencer, it started to snow.

-.-.-

Spencer woke up still in his tux, clutching the bundle of fabric. It still smelled like her perfume.

He stood up and stretched, picking up the clothing that she had discarded, holding it like it was something precious. He walked to his bedroom and laid it out on the neatly made bed, before grabbing his pajama pants and his robe. He stripped out of his good clothes, throwing them on the floor in a pile. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, slipping his red plaid pajama pants over his lower half. he slipped his robe on, tying the ties.

"Merry Christmas to me." He murmured. Suddenly, an alarm went off.

"Ugh." He said, standing up stiffly as he went to hit the alarm on his clock as the radio switched on. He went back to lying on his stomach on his couch, trying to fall back asleep to the sound of the radio announcer's voice.

"Goooood morning Viginia! It's a balmy fifteen degrees on this beautiful Christmas eve and the snow continues to fall. It is ten twenty in the morning-" Spencer shot to his feet; his flight to Las Vegas left in an hour. He threw off his pajamas, leaving pieces of clothing around his apartment as he scrambled into his jeans and purple button up. He fit his sweater over his head, rushing as he grabbed his carry on. He rushed around his apartment, turning things off and unplugging things. When he got back to his bedroom, he noted the ball gown on the comforter, and sighed, before folding it and placing it in his bag. The design was very unique, and he wanted his mother's input. Before her disorder had gotten the best of her, she had not only been a great professor of literary arts, but very good at identifying fabrics and designers.

He rushed out of his apartment, opening the door. But he was shocked when he almost ran into Derek.

"What, do you have ESP or something?" he teased. Spencer pressed his lips together.

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