one night stand | spencer reid

twenty one

Stella's POV:

I watch Spencer as he gets up from his desk almost immediately after sitting down. Not even 5 minutes ago he walked through the glass doors. He walks quickly to the bathroom, and almost pulls the door shut behind him.

As much as I want to confront him about this, I know how he will react, considering it's probably already in his system. I need to mention it to him when he's sober, but I don't know when I'll catch him.

It's been about a week since we found Spencer and Tobias. Spencer took a few days off, and now he's back, even though we all thought he should take some personal time.

He insisted on coming back. He got a little angry at us for it, if I'm being honest. That's when we backed off, not wanting to push him over the edge.

This week has been complete hell for me. I keep seeing the dogs everywhere, so I am barely getting any sleep.

I stare at my pen drawer, where I keep my Naproxen. I anxiously bite my nail at the thought of it. I look around and see Emily and Derek talking at the coffee stand, and Hotch, Rossi, and JJ in the conference room. Spencer in the bathroom. We are about to brief a case.

I open the drawer swiftly and pull out the small container of pills.

I put 3 in my hand, and plop them in my mouth, following up with a chug of lukewarm coffee.

I need my head as straight as I can get it.

-

"Sandra Davis. 16 years old. This is her singing at her high school talent show a month ago." Garcia begins, while clicking the buttons on the remote, displaying images and videos. "This is her on and off boyfriend Ken Newcombe. Their bodies were found in a park near the male victim's car in Groton, an affluent, mostly white suburb of NYC in Westchester county."

I open up my file to see the bloody image of Sandra Davis. "It's the third of 3 killings believed to be a series of hate crimes." Garcia adds.

I look up from my file as those words leave her mouth. "Hate crimes?" I mumble, feeling anger rise inside of me.

"The first two victims were Keisha Andrews, 15, and Vickie Williams, 17. They disappeared from their homes in central Westchester one night. Their bodies were found in a wooded area in the southern part of the county near the city." Hotch answers as he gets up, and begins slowly walking around the room.

"And this was painted on their faces." Garcia whisper-shouts, and all of our eyes turn to face the screen.

A swastika.

My jaw drops at the multiple images that pop up on the screen.

The rest of the team continues discussing the case as I zone out, my eyes finding the beige cardigan that Spencer is wearing.

Spencer hasn't said a word during this entire briefing, and that is highly unlike him. I know he is still pretty damn traumatized, and probably on dilaudid, but as much as I want the Spencer I know back, I know it's going to take some time.

"Alright, we don't have time to waste, wheels up in 30."

I am knocked out of my daze by the snap of Spencer's fingers, and I look up to see him towering over me. "Did you not hear Hotch? Wheels up in 30."

I shake my head and rub my temples. "Yeah, sorry. Just a little hazy."

"Oh, okay. See you on the plane." Spencer says, and before I can respond, he has already fled out of the conference room. I slowly close the file that lays on the table and shove it into my bag, before finally standing up.