sciencewithottsnpotts - Tumblr blog

sciencewithottsnpotts · 3 years ago

Text

The Family Business

Criminal Minds x Winchester!Sister

BAU Team x Supernatural Reader

Saving People Part Three and Final Ending to the Saving People Trilogy :)

———————

What an accomplishment it was, to be 19 and living a good life. You were interning at a law firm when your Boss got called in on a priority case, and you were the lucky duck who got to go with him to carry around all his paperwork. But you didn't mind- cause you knew pencil pushing would eventually lead to taking leads on cases. Normally, your Boss worked on the side of the DA's office, prosecuting criminals to the full extent of the law. But this case was an exception. Y'all had been hired to be counsel to a suspect in a major murder investigation. And low and behold, the group of individuals running the case just so happened to be the FBI's BAU.

You watched Hotch's reaction as your Boss pushed past him into the interrogation room to interrupt Derek Morgan in his stare down with your new client. All of the agents that currently occupied the room looked affronted but unsurprised at your Boss's appearance. Though none noticed you standing in the doorway until a certain computer tech had to get into the room.

"Excuse me. So sorry," she sang as she glided into the room. It was then that a certain individual with eidetic memory turned around and saw your face.

"Y/n Winchester?"

That name had everyone whipping around. Your smile was genuine as you gazed back on them.

"Hello guys. Long time no see."

"Winchester? Why does that sound so familiar?" Came Garcia's cheery voice.

"Because we got to work together 4 years ago. On what the news dubbed the "Sacrificial Spree Murders" that consumed upwards of 80 deaths once you got those perpetrators to confess."

"Holy shit. That's right!" Emily Prentiss's face was kind even in its shock. Though everyone's perceptions changed when Hotch spoke.

"I also recall you conveniently disappearing when said confessions happened before you went MIA for 6 months."

You couldn't help but blush at that. "Heh- yeah. Fight or flight- ya know? You no longer needed me with those confessions, and I was getting antsy from having been in the same place for too long. So- I bolted. Besides. I didn't need you guys tracking me to figure out where I parked my car or putting a gps device in the wheel well. I know you're with the government- and that's exactly why I didn't trust you."

"Fair enough I guess," commented JJ. "Especially since those guys got effectively sentenced without your testimony. My question would be- why are you here now?"

All attention was on Jennifer Jareu as she asked that question. But before you could answer, distinct yelling came from the interrogation room where your Boss was making his way to the door with your new client.

"Interrogating my client without offer to counsel is against this man's given rights. It is because of this we will be taking our leave unless you can provide a valid warrant for his arrest?"

Before Hotch could get a word in edge-wise your Boss paced forward.

"Exactly what I thought. Here is my card," with a snap of his fingers you had handed him a business card to give to Hotch, "And you can contact me or my intern with any future desires to reach out to my client. Good day, Agent Hotchner." And just like that he was marching out with the potential Unsub in tow.

"Aaaaaaaand that's my cue. Gotta follow the boss cause I have the keys to the Mercedes. It was nice seeing you guys- though I don't know if I'd call this "better circumstances". I guess I'll be seeing you around. Bye!"

And just as suddenly as you'd appeared to them, you were gone.

"Who the hell was that?" Came Morgan's voice as he stared around at his team as they watched the practical (familiar) teenager leave the room.

"That," explained Rossi, "Was one Ms. Y/N Winchester."

"Wait- Winchester as in that psycho-genius from that Sacrificial Murder Spree?"

"The very one- so it would seem." Prentiss said, a quizzical look on her face.

"What the hell is she doing working in a law firm? More importantly how? She's like 18!"

"If memory serves she would actually be 19 going on 20 as she had turned 16 by the time the case was wrapping up." Spencer buttoned his suit jacket, as he collected his bag and made his way from the observation room, now made obsolete with no one to observe.

The rest of the team merely looked at each other, before following him out to re-strategize in the conference room.

—————————

"Winchester," you're boss said, as you drove him and your client to the hotel. You looked up into the rear view, as he was sat in the back conspiring with the potential Unsub.

"Yes, sir," you acknowledged.

"Do me a favor when we get back to the hotel and call up your brother. We're going to need all the assistance we can on this one, if we're going against the FBI instead of working with them."

A trickling sense of unease slithered down your spine and coiled in your stomach. Call my brother?

"My – uh – brother sir?"

"Yes, Samuel."

Sammy, you want to say. "And why would we need him, sir?"

The look on your boss's face is incredulous. "Why would- you think you got hired because of your grades kid? Shit no, this industry is all about connections. Winchester is a powerful name in these courts. You're here so I have a solid line directly to the big man. So call him. We'll need all the wisdom we can get."

"Yes, sir. Will do." Is all you can say. Samuel Winchester the Lawyer? What kind of weird alternate reality was this? Did you fuck with the wrong dragon that stole a magical charm and get thrust into another world that mimics this one?

No, you think, you remember too much, and far too little at the same time. Because that's the truth. You remember your mother and her funeral. Your father and your brothers. Dean's mother hen attitude, Sam's healthy fitness lifestyle. Hunting. You remember all of it. You even remember Dean taking the Mark. The demon possessing him. Hell- literally. You even remember the case with the BAU. Every last detail of it. Getting captured, getting the girls out, going to the police, and...

You don't remember actually catching the bad guys.

But the BAU did! They said you bolted. And that sounds like something you'd do, but you can't actually remember it.

Why can't you remember it?!

"Winchester- watch out!"

"What?"

The sound of a truck horn has you zoning back in, though too late. You swerve, in an attempt to avoid the head on collision, and instead loose control of the vehicle, speeding uncontrollably off the edge into a deep forested drop below. There's screaming, and yelling, and a whole lot of fear.

This is not how I thought I'd go out! You think, closing your eyes and bracing for impact.

You feel yourself fall, and hit the ground. But it's far more mild than you expected. There's no screaming any more, no smoke. In fact, you're lying on linoleum tiles.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry, are you ok miss?" You know that voice.

You pick your head and yourself from the ground, to see Spencer Reid of the BAU, reaching around a door, shock and remorse clear in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. I'm ok, I think."

There it was again, the coiling unease, it was growing.

"Ah, Ms. Winchester, what brings you back to the precinct?"

You look around, surprised to see that, yes, you are back in the precinct. The one you had just left yesterday. When you got in a car crash.... Only you didn't.

Why were you back?

"We've brought back our client," your boss says behind you, exasperated.

Suspicion crosses Spencer's features, "Pray tell, for what reason. For you both left quite confident and angered yesterday."

"He wishes to make a deal." came another voice further down the hall your boss was standing in.

Your blood runs cold. You know that voice. Leaning around your boss, you see, of all people, Sam Winchester. And he's in a suit. And his hair- oh Chuck his hair!! It's cut short, and slicked back. He- he- he looks- jeez, he looks like a prick.

It doesn't take long for everyone to gather in the conference room, a camera set up in the corner, to record the whole room and this odd interaction. You sat against the same wall the cameras on, claiming to stay in the back ground to observe. Which, technically isn't wrong.

You were mostly trying to figure out, what in all of HELLS HALF ACRE WAS GOING ON!!

You were silently freaking out, and don't know how you managed to keep your face so neutral. Cause there was Sammy. Your brother Sam, dressed up in an expensive pin-stripe suit, hair all wrong, face too cold, working with your boss and client (do you even know their names?? Who are these people?) sitting across from the FB-fucking-I!

How do you not remember anything before this. Why don't you remember the arrests from the Murder Spree case like the team does?? Why didn't you die last night when the car went off the highway? Was that even last night?

For the love of all that is holy- what the HELL WAS GOING ON!

Your distress must have been obvious to everyone in the room, for it was Agent Prentiss who addressed you. "Are you alright Y/N?"

You look up in shock, ripped from your internal break down, and realize that everyone in the room is looking at you. You had to get out of there.

"Um, actually... no, I'm not." Your hand comes up to your head, pushing on one of your temples, while the other lays against the wall for balance. "I have a killer head ache that came out of nowhere. I think I may have a concussion from my collision in the hallway." You wince, hoping the lie is believable.

"What collision?" Asked Hotchner.

"That would be my fault," came Reid, "I opened the bathroom door to quickly, and preceded to hit Ms. Winchester with it." Remorse was evident in his voice. But you didn't care. This was all wrong.

You wanted to leave. You needed to leave.

Your panic must've shown through some, for it's your brother who speaks next. "Why don't you go to the break room and get some water, then find an observation room to lie down in the dark. We'll come get you when we're done here."

"That sounds like a good idea. Thanks, Sammy."

You don't see the confusion that crosses your brothers face at the nickname. He was Samuel to most, Sam to few and well, hadn't been Sammy since you were 12. At least here.

But you didn't know that. And you didn't care to. You speed walk to the break room, lowering your hand from your head, only when your in the seclusion of the room. The windows in the room are fortunately covered by their blinds for now. You grab a drink of water as you were told. But your growing panic doesn't let you sit.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Run.

Wrong.

Run.

Wrong.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

WRONG!

Over and over it screams in your head. You begin pacing the floor. Mug squeezed so tightly in your hands, your knuckles are white and your fingers are red.

This is wrong! You slam your mug and hands onto the counter, frustrated. The surface clinks underneath the impact. And that's when you see the drawer in the cabinetry.

You rip it open with a bang! At first glance it's all tongs and serving spoons. But buried under the layers of grimy and unorganized plastic wear you see it- a knife.

The tarnished reflection it shows in the horrid florescent lighting tells you the only truth you need- it's silver.

You hop to the fridge next, squished between the counter and the sink you had drank from earlier. The chances were low.

But there, inside that fridge was a fuck ton of brown butcher-paper-wrapped slabs of meat that said "Loui's Lambs. Best Chops in the State!" As well as a sticky note saying thank you to the cops or some shit for a stupid fundraiser.

You skip that useless information and instead look for the messiest wrapping on all the products. The one that was the juiciest, leaking the most, promising to be the bloodiest. Instead, you found a plastic Tupperware container, like the one you get potato salad in at the deli, full of "spare bits". Hey- don't hate- that's what it was labeled as, that was not your doing.

But it was full, and it was bloody. And it was as you starred at the two contents filling either hand, knife and bits, you realize why this doesn't feel right.

Your vision flashes. Dark warehouse halls, the dripping echo of an old abandoned and leaking building. Two men, one with dark and one with light hair. Tattoos, hidden under layers of grimy clothes. Glowing eyes.

"Djinn."

You whisper it, but the sinking in your stomach makes it feel like your yelled it. Djinn. It explained everything. Sam, the lack of memories, the glitch when the car almost crashed. The migraine! You were losing blood. You were loosing it fast. Cause these men didn't take long to act. You remember. Leaving the precinct, the day you brought back the girls, sneaking off to your car and searching out the two men.

Only back then you hadn't known about ask the tattoos that lingered beneath the dirty sleeves of your captors. You thought they were just human psychos. You remember it now. You remember it all. You also remember the only way to escape this dream world.

Your death.

You glance at the knife again. Putting the blood back into the fridge. You wouldn't need it. Because there was no djinn here. Not in this world. No, this world was controlled by djinn.

You slip the knife very carefully up your blouse sleeve and make your way from the break room to the bathroom. You double the act of the headache. One hand gripping your forehead, the other pressed against your stomach to keep the knife hidden in your blazer.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, headache and nausea becoming quite real as you physically lost more blood to the djinn.

Chuck you hoped this worked. You were a Winchester for fuck's sake. Dying at the hands of a djinn, was not in your "Top 10 Ways to Die as a Winchester" list.

You rushed into the bathroom and then the biggest stall, falling down as a harsh pang shot across your head.

Why did your mouth feel so dry suddenly?

You pulled the knife out from your sleeve with shaking hands. Carefully, you lined the blade up with your heart. Just as you were ready to act, the creaking of the door broke through your pounding head.

"Y/N? Are you in here? Are you alright?" called out one Emily Prentiss. A vision of her flashes before you at the sound of her voice. Of FBI Agents swarming an abandoned warehouse. Flashlights swinging across the darkness. Voices calling "CLEAR" as they pass through rooms. An echo of Emily's voice as she lifts your head, the rest of the team following behind her. And a shadow and a flash of blue.

"No!" you shout, bringing the blade down, stabbing yourself in this dream world.

"Y/N!" Emily's voice is urgent now. You blearily look down and see blood quickly pooling on the floor, hands going numb. The door bursts open, Emily standing above you with horror on her face. A shadow forms behind her, magic blue eyes and arms of tattoos visible in your fading vision.

The last thing you can process in this false world is the word "duck" before the world goes white.

—————————

The beeping of the heart monitor is almost lulling to the team as they sit in your hospital room. All six of them crammed into the small emergency room, waiting for you to wake up. If Strauss or anyone higher up were to ask why all of them were waiting there, Hotch was prepared with the "protocol" argument. They needed to interview you, be assured of your safety, be prepared to get CPS involved if needed, and all that other red-tape type shit.

The real reason, though, was you had saved them. Barely conscious from the head trauma visible on your forehead you had stabbed the unsub, while laying in Prentiss's arms, as he attempted to kill her himself. Then you somehow managed to pull yourself up, half alive and still bleeding to death, to follow the sounds of gun shots and end the life of the other Unsub who wasn't falling, despite having over five bullets in his chest. They don’t even know where you got the knife from.

The team had been in shock as they watched their respective suspects die. Blue flashing from their eyes, the light of their tattoos dying with them as they collapsed to the ground. Morgan and JJ, both of whom had fallen victim to the magic of the djinn, awoke with a gasp as the last one fell. You falling alongside the second one had the team acting fast. Ambulance already on standby they got you rushed to the hospital. You had to have three blood transfusions. One in the ambulance on the way, and two more once you got to the hospital and your neck wound was stitched up. Doctors state you had lost about 30% of your blood before you had finally passed out. It was that fact that left the team truly speechless. By all rights you should have been unconscious and on the brink of death by the time the found you.

And yet, in their attempt to save you from the unsubs, you saved them. They had all seen the man with blue eyes and blue tattoos survive the gun shots, as he got his hands on their team mates, knocking them unconscious with a glowing hand. It was impossible, what they saw. Morgan refused to speak about what he dreamed about for the short period of time he was under. JJ looked haunted, but was writing it all down in the notepad she had found in the back of the SUV. Prentiss had tossed her jacket to the side, as it was covered in the blood from the first unsub, who had almost succeeded in doing the same to her, or worse. Reid sat in the corner, replaying the days events in his mind on a loop, trying to justify things and fill them in with fact when there was mostly only the impossible. Hotch and Rossi stood in the corners, worrying over their team and their wellbeing, processing everything as well.

This job had become more of a headache than it was probably worth, and was going to be a boat-load of paperwork. But one thing they could focus on were simple facts and truth.

The unsubs were no longer a worry, but other impossible worries lingered in everyone's minds.

Yet, as sherlock once said, "When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." And so the truth stood. The unsubs who had died were no ordinary men. They weren't natural. Nor was it some kind of extreme technology that allowed them to be what they were. No matter how much Reid and the team didn't want to accept it there was only one option that truly remained. The supernatural just might be real.

And you had a lot of questions to answer when you finally woke back up.

__________________

You hated hospitals. You hated cops (Jody Mills and Donna Hanscum excluded). You hated people who refused to understand your world. You hated monsters, specifically the ones who enjoyed hurting people. You hated your dad for bringing your family into this world. You had a lot of unresolved anger and trauma to work through. Not to mention the echo of your djinn induced dream haunting your sleepless nights.

But you were grateful to now have the BAU partially on your side. You didn't have to worry so much about having them tracking you. And while they weren't quite ready to absolve your brothers of their "Most Wanted" status, most of them did not see you as a potential threat. Instead you had made a deal. You'd keep a reliable form of contact with them, and they'd be sure to reach out for a consultation should a case start looking a little... unnatural.

And as you drove away in one of the bunker's many vintage cars you had stowed away outside of town, you couldn't help but smile at how things had somehow, for once in your short Winchester life, ended relatively well.

Your peace of mind is interrupted by a chirp on one of your many cellular devices. A note from Sam.

Black eyes have been turned back to green. Next task: find a solid stain remover for this Mark. You able to come home to lend a hand with the laundry and pest control?

The relief that flooded through you at knowing Dean was finally demon-less was strong. Foot pushing heavy on the pedal you blast some music, and text back a simple response.

Wayward's coming home. Tell mother hen I say "Hey". See y'all soon.

Being a Winchester wasn't easy and it was never boring. But hey, you know how it goes.

Saving People. Hunting Things.

The Family Business.

_________________________________________________

Aaaaaaaaand we're finally done!!! Ah that's crazy! This has taken so long (literally over a year I am soooooo sorry) and has been through so many rewrites. But I'm so happy to have finally created an ending I'm happy with, and I hope you are too. Do timelines match up between the two shows? absolutely not, but that's not important lol. Thank you all who have followed along on this little trilogy! You're engagement is so encouraging, and your patience is appreciated.

One note I would like to add: Suicide is no joke, and is never an ACTUAL answer to our problems and struggles. I plead to everyone here, that if you are having thoughts of self-harm or suicide, depressions, or even possible hallucinations to please seek help and treatment. There is nothing wrong with you, and you're allowed to ask for help. Remember, someone does actually care, even if you feel alone, and there is always a future, even if it seems bleak now.

Thank you all again!

Tags: (I hope I did this right)

@sylum @ampal98 @singhfae @supernerdycookietrashblr

@super-sexy-agent-hotchner (I don’t think this one works)

177 notes · View notes

sciencewithottsnpotts · 3 years ago

Text

Things I’ve Been Thinking About A Lot Recently:

- how desperate I am for human affection when I’m so unwilling to return it in kind

-how I allow myself to be oblivious to other peoples boundaries when I would scream if someone crossed mine

-how I swear too much

-and not caring enough about how that affects others.

-how exhausted I am knowing it’s my own fault but also that no amount of sleep seems to be able to fix it

-that I miss my therapist, but that my schedule doesn’t really allow for one and I’m not allowed to use my parents insurance for it

-knowing I’m not necessarily in the healthiest state of mind because the evidence is clear in how clean my room looks, but also knowing I don’t have the energy to try and fix it yet

-just, wishing there was a way to pause life for a week or two and get right with myself and my faith

-not feeling comfortable being real with my closest friends at no fault but my own.

Sorry this isn’t all that happy, but I’ve needed to get that off my chest.

1 note · View note

sciencewithottsnpotts · 3 years ago

Text

“I was looking through Facebook the other day, and a post from an old middle school friend popped up, and it got me thinking…

In elementary school I thought I’d have these friends forever. That we’d grow up and old together- like they do on tv.

I learned the truth was much harsher when half of them moved away.

In middle school, my friends and I always fought. Toxic preteens with parents who never taught them healthy boundaries cause they didn’t have any of their own.

I couldn’t wait to go to high school and make better friends.

In high school I learned everyone’s still the same, probably just skinnier, except for me and her and that’s ok. I played sports and sang in musicals and prayed for the day college came around and I would finally make friends that understood me.

In college, at first, I thought I made a huge group of close friends. I was too naive to know it would never work. I was devastated a few mo tag later when they exiled me like a criminal from their friend group. And I realized, they were no better than my middle school “friends”.

Later, as college came to a close, I found the 4-5 people in various friend groups I realized I could be myself with, though the distance that comes with graduation makes it hard to stay close.

As an adult, I think I’ll forever be the bridesmaid, and not the bride. But if that means I get to celebrate these friends I’ve made; the healthier and communicative friends that can come with adulthood, then I’ll happily always be off to the side to watch them get their happy ending.

I’m not the girl who gets the guy, but I am the one who has learned to love herself and other properly. So that the friends I keep today, I can know they are real and founded on more than age or similarities. They are founded on common interests and a desire to support one another.

And I think that’s the best part about growing up.”

-Dear Diary, I missed the wrong people today and wrote this to remind myself that the past is the past for a reason.

#original poetry #self reflection #freindsdon’tlastforever #its ok tho #poetry #young poets #dear diary #journaling #but not really

2 notes · View notes

sciencewithottsnpotts · 4 years ago

Text

Guy!!! Ah!! Buried in the Nightshade has reached 100 notes!!! Omg! Idk if that’s a big deal to most people- but seeing as how it’s my first fanfic on here- I’m so excited. Thank you everyone who’s enjoyed the story!!! (Or any of my stories on here)

So thanks for being awesome! You guys rock 🥰

#bau team #criminal minds #first fanfic #thanks loves #love ya’ll #much thanks

3 notes · View notes

sciencewithottsnpotts · 4 years ago

Text

Hunting Things

Saving People Part Two:

Criminal Minds x Winchester!fem!reader Crossover!

(Remember if you recognize it, I don’t own it. Takes place during Season 10 of SPN! Hope you like it. This is a blast to write :). One more part to go.)

Word Count: over 2,000 words ✌🏻.

Warnings: uuuh- computer hacking, Winchester shenanigans, and mentions of threats against a teenage character.

Part Two:

You sat at a desk in the precinct, watching the going-ons around you. The girls parents had been called as soon as the police could acknowledge who had walked through their precinct doors. The EMS was next as they made their way around to everyone. While you were used to Castiel healing your wounds instantly, you knew you had to let them touch everything up.

As soon as the FBI agents (you called it) got control of the situation they asked you all where you had come from. You were the only one who could relay accurate info (aka a relative address and description of the Unsub).

You didn't know how to feel though, after everything. While those girls had been afraid and helpless, you would've (probably) killed the guy if you had gotten your hands on him. While their standing around crying, and hugging their families, you sat alone, numb to it all.

Sure, it felt good to help people, but your heart hurt at seeing them. You missed your mom. It had been years since her death, but it still hurt. And your (half) brothers, while amazing, were used to depending on each other, and so tended to leave you out of the loop on most things. A way to keep you safe but also to "encourage" you towards a normal life.

Except you had killed your first monster at 10 years olds, normal was out the window.

Your thoughts were disrupted when you felt eyes on you. Zoning back in you watched as one of the female agents, Prentiss you recall her name, walks towards you. "Hey," there's a mixture of sincere kindness and caution in her eyes as she takes in your raw wrists, bruised nose, and large eyes, "Is there anyone you want to call to come pick you up?"

You shrug your shoulders in response. “I’ve got a cell in my car. I’ll call someone when this is all said and done.” You watch as her eyes partially bulge out of her head. You smirk to yourself then seek to calm her down before she decided to lecture you on the legality of driving without a license.

“Relax, Agent. It’s a legal license. I’m an official resident of New Mexico. Besides- I turn 16 next week. Then it’ll be less weird.”

Emily simply nods her head, storing away the info for Garcia to check into later. “Well, we’re rounding up officers now, we’ll get him soon.”

It’s a she goes to walk away that you stop her, calling her name do she turns around.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking. And I figure if you’re about to go to the lions den, you should at least hear the theories of someone who was just in it.”

She nods her head, taking the chair next to you as you turn to face her. “The guy who kidnapped me and who brought in Katy was a brunette. It was longer, shaggy. But I over heard Alex, and she thinks her guy was blond. And it’s had me thinking. This Unsub of yours is incredibly ritualistic. Every two hours someone’s taken. Every two hours someone’s killed. There’s only an half hour time difference between the newest abduction and the latest death. The order of when those two take place seem unimportant. But it has two be two hours. That barn is at least a 15 minute drive out of town, and I was speeding. This guys can’t afford to speed. He needs to be conspicuous. So what if it’s a partnership. Two highly organized unsubs who take turns on who kills and who kidnaps. I bet if you analyzed the wound patterns on the victims you’d be able to identify two different patterns or methods. I mean, you don’t get away with dropping 53 bodies in such a short period of time without it help!”

Emily froze at your words. “53? We only have the three bodies! We were called in because of the child abductions.”

You look at her, frustration clear in your eyes. “These bastards work with the utmost efficiency and with short timelines. You think they’ve only killed three people?” You watched as the agent tried to process your words.

————————————————

“I need it in writing that I’m not going to get thrown in Juvie if I hack into these data bases for you.” Derek Morgan wasn’t going to lie, he really wanted to laugh at that statement. Mostly because it came from the 15 (“I’ll be 16 next week I’m not that young”) sister of two of the most wanted men of the FBI. And she was helping. Hotch had his suspicions and so had asked for what cases she was talking about for Garcia to look into, but she had only been able to find half of the girl’s (very comprehensive and detailed) list (that she had memorized!), and so to confirm her theory Hotch made the decision to allow her to find them herself (with Garcia’s virtual supervision).

Garcia’s voice pops up over the computer, “Don’t worry hun, if Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner makes a promise, he’ll honor it. A verbal contract is as good as a written one.”

You scrutinize Hotch and the team for a moment before shrugging your shoulders and getting to work.

“Alright Penelope, you had centered your original search around this and the surrounding states, right? Well, we’re about to go across the whole continental US of A.”

“48 states? Really?”

“Trust me, these douchebags are efficient and mobile. Over the last 7 years they’ve literally hit every state. Victimology changes based off populations percentages. For example, 76% of the populace here are people in there early-60s to late-30s. 87% of that populace is a household that has at least one child. 52% of those kids are in middle school and up. So, our Unsubs targeted high schoolers, though- at least one of them had a type as most of us were seniors- me being the youngest at fifteen. In Pennsylvania three years ago there was a spike of homicides in retirement homes. The owners of those locations however, were able to pay mighty sums to keep it on the DL. A total of 10 deaths occurred, all bodies drained of blood. Coroners office placed it as heart attacks though as to not alarm the families. It took place over 3 different jurisdictions too- so that helped keep it out of the eye of the FBI.”

The team all turned from the girl, to each other, to Reid and then back to the girl. The sound of clicking keys filling in the short silence.

“Since when does Reid come in a female option.” Whispered Morgan to JJ. Chuckles come from the surrounding team only for you to give a quick “I heard that” before Aaron shut up his team and motioned for you to continue.

“Over all, in the last five years there’s been 53 deaths, including the most recent occurrences. They don’t strike again after the deaths are completed, but until then, they’re loose canons. More than likely, since they picked their type, they’re going to try to stick to it. However, four years ago, in Indiana, they started killing women in their 30s, got interrupted, and started up again two days later with men in their early 20s. It actually went just like this one, three successes then a disruption. That’s why I made sure to get taken before they could kill the fourth victim. I figured they’d stuck to the pattern. It means we have two days till they kill again.”

“Wait- you purposefully got taken, kiddo? You’re a little young to be playing hero?”

You pause your typing from pulling up the old cases, and turn to face David Rossi. “Aren’t you a little old to be out of retirement?”

“Oh shit.” The snicker from Derek Morgan had you blushing in just a moment.

“Sorry. That was rude.” You turn back to the computer. “Anywho- moving on. Penelope, with all this information I sent to you I would appreciate your assistance in cross referencing every suspect from each case. Remove anyone of color or with any hair color that is not blond or brown. Look for anyone who appears more than once. One of these Unsubs is not nearly as smart as the other, which means he would’ve been focused on at least once. I think it will likely be the brunette one.”

“What brought you to that conclusion?” Dr. Reid prompts.

“He was constantly looking at the clock. Shifty and nervous. He tied Katy’s and my hands thumbs together. It was purposeful. Whoever tied Alex’s, Sam’s, and Tracy’s wasn’t worried they’d escape, but wasn’t careless either. He used a constrictor knot, mine was an adaptive clove hitch. It made it more difficult but not impossible to escape,” you snort, “Obviously.”

“Oh! Oh! I got someone. Ok- Brandon Sikes. 28 years old, he was suspected in three of the cases. And I know what your thinking- 3 out of the 28 cases? Well, once was in Wisconsin, another in Florida, and lastly, was in the Pennsylvania case you mentioned.”

You watched as the image appeared of a 6’ 3” man with soft brown eyes and longer brown hair. You took the time to study him. Like, really study him. The moment right before your grabbed flashes into your mind. You had been careless on purpose.

You had needed to get caught to know what was going on, but it was still kinda scary. You heard him first, but acted oblivious as you walked out of the convenience store and down the side alley where he appeared. You remember his eyes reflecting in the window in front of you.

The team watched you inhale a deep breath, shoulders stiffen, back straighten. You take a moment to yourself before turning to the closest agent, “Yeah.” Your jaw clenched, but then your whole body relax’s. “That’s him.”

The team watches as you click a few more buttons.

“Alright, I just sent everything we have on Brandon and all known affiliates to the printer. Time to go get that son of a bitch.”

———————————

Sitting in a cold bunker, nursing a beer, the last thing Sam expects is for his laptop to go off. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, but he doesn’t acknowledge the sound any further, as his laptop is halfway across the room, and quite frankly- he’s exhausted.

Dean’s taunts and snide remarks were wearing on him. Who knew attempting to cure someone of their demon-ness could be so taxing.

Today’s session was just that much worse though. Before, Dean had just been taunting Sam. Today, though, he threatened their sister.

He threatened Y/N. He had threatened you.

A dark chuckle escapes from Dean as he recovers from his latest injection. Sam stands there, tense, numb, tired, and determined. Every time the recovery period took longer, Sam had hope that his plan was working.

“You Sammy, you’re so…focused. So… diligent.” His necks cracks as he lifts it up to stare into his brother’s soul. (How ironic considering just four years prior he was the one without it.) “You know, you’re where Y/N gets her brains from. Yet how lucky she is to never be just like us.”

Dean smiled with sick delight as he watched his words effect his baby brother.

“Maybe I’ll fix that.” Snapping to attention, Sam glares at his brother. “When I get out of here, and oh oh oh- I will get out of here Sammy. I’m going to find her and I’m going to turn her. Maybe Crowley or one of his minions would like to get his hands on her. Fresh meat.”

Sam shuddered at the memory. It was only a few hours ago, but it still hurt him. The thought of anything happening to you, especially at the hands of your own brother. It scared the ever loving shit out of him, and he’s been stuck in a cage with the devil. Recurrent pinging from his laptop pulled him out of his worries, and reluctantly moves towards the device. What he doesn’t expect is 53 different case files to pull up and a 54th screen to appear with a little emoticon smiley face :) and a message saying “I know I said I’d see you in a week, but it might be two. Gmen sticking to my shoe- but we’re friends now! Peace out brosif”.

A gentle smile comes to Sam’s face before worry furrows his brow. Gmen? As in Feds? You really were a Winchester. How dangerous that is.

——————-

Ah! Part two!!! Let’s gooooo! Thank you for all of the support and to those who asked to be tagged: you are below! (I hope it works I’ve never been asked to do this before lol)

Tags: @super-sexy-agent-hotchner @supernerdycookietrashblr

#bau team #criminal minds #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #supernatural #winchester!reader #winchester!sister #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester

167 notes · View notes

sciencewithottsnpotts · 4 years ago

Text

Saving People

Part One:

Criminal Minds x Winchester!reader Crossover fanfic

(If you recognize the names or plot points, I don’t own it! This is going to be a 3 part fanfic. Second one will be entitled Hunting Things (you can figure out what the third one will be called). Hope you enjoy and Happy Halloween!)

(Minimal proof reading)

3 hours. That's how long you'd been here. Tracy, the girl next to you, had been there for 5 hours. The girl next to her, Samantha, for 7 hours. Alex had been there for 9. The girl before you got there, she had been for there for 11. Then he killed her and you replaced her just an hour later.

Only mistake he made, was thinking you were clueless.

The sound of whimpering and dragging feet interrupted your train of thought. You watched as the man dragged a new girl into the barn, tied her up, looked at the clock upon the wall, a clock that you had been using to keep track of the time. And he left. You had two more hours before he killed Alex next.

You had to move. Fast. Faster.

You watched the man as he walked out. Studying him. Learning everything you could every time you saw him. Cause you’d be damned if you didn’t get these girls out of here alive.

——————————————————

"He's going to be a white man, mid thirties. He works a blue color job. Seasonal. Possibly farm or construction. Physical labor is what he was raised in. It's kept him physically fit and tan. He's socially adept enough to lure young women into a sense of familiarity. He's strong enough to move them quickly. He's ritualistic. Every few hours someone goes missing, and he drains their blood with quick efficiency. The only problem is parents aren't going to report right away. After all, there's no way something like this could happen to their child."

The precinct was quiet as SSA Arron Hotchner gave out the profile to the room of officers. The young Dr. Spencer Reid cut in next.

"Statistically, Unsubs kill their victims 36 hours after kidnapping their victims. This Unsub however has killed far sooner than that. Out of the three bodies discovered, only one has been identified. Our third of seven missing persons, Emily Jacobs was discovered 5 hours ago, time of death put it at 11 hours after her capture. Knowing this estimated timeline paired with these new missing girls, has allowed us to identify the first two missing girls. Jessica Loresta and Margaret Howard. Reported kidnappings were just across the state border, which is why they were missed as part of these first deaths. Based off this pattern, however, we believe there is only an hour max before our Unsub leaves a new body. More than likely—"

"Sorry to interrupt," all eyes moved from the FBI agents at the front of the room to the one who had just entered from the doorway. Media Liason Jennifer Jareau stands at the back of the room, face solemn in fact. "We just got a 911 call about another missing girl."

The room was silent with tension, anticipation, anxiety. "Tell us everything you know."

————————————-

"Katy. My names Katy."

You smiled at her, or tried to. There was only so much joy you could form in this situation.

"Ok Katy, I've asked everyone this so far, how did he tie you up?"

"What?"

"How are your hands bound. Are they crossed, side by side? How thick does the rope feel? Is it a rope at all?"

"Uh- I'm. They're side by side. My - my thumbs are touching. The rope feels thick. It, it hurts."

"I know. I know. But that's good. That's good."

"What do you even think your gonna accomplish, Huh?"

"Alex, shut up! At least she's doing something!"

"Oh come off it Samantha. Out of all of us I've been here the longest. Which means I'm next. What does she think she's going to accomplish that we didn't?"

"I'm gonna get us out of here." All eye turned to you as you stood up, rope in hand, free from the pole you had been tied to for the last 3 hours. Now you just needed to get to a car with these women without getting caught.

———————————————

"I'm confused here. Based off these timelines, he's somehow capable of kidnapping a girl every couple hours. But there was a four hour gap between Tracy Hale and Kathrine McDonnell. What parent doesn't report a missing kid?" The BAU team sat around the conference table, looking back through the case file, as SSA Derek Morgan presents the hole in the profile.

"A kid who doesn't have any parents around to report their disappearance." All eyes shoot over to SSA Emily Prentiss as she speaks up.

"What makes you think that?"

"I mean think about it. All of these girls had at least one parents, friend, or sibling to report their absence with lack of contact. But when I was growing up, and I slipped my guard detail, who would've have been able to report my absence?"

"So you think she's the kid of rich parents who don't pay attention enough to notice she's gone?" Asks Hotch.

"Or a kid with no parents to notice." Cuts in Morgan.

"So you think he has five girls right now? Just one who hasn't been reported?"

"I mean, think about it Dave," Emily stands up to look at the board again. "Everything's been so ritualistic, and repetitive. The first three deaths have all been 2 hours apart. They were estimated missing at about 2 hours each. Why would he suddenly break the pattern?"

"Cause he didn't. Alright. So he has another girl. How do we figure out who it is?"

"Well, if she was kidnapped almost four hours ago, that would have been at 2pm. She should have been in school. Same with Samantha, at 12pm."

"Yeah but 12pm is when most schools have a lunch hour. If someone was allowed to leave campus for lunch, like Samantha and her fellow seniors, that makes them easy to grab. Whoever he took either had a really late lunch period, or skipped class."

Hotch looked between Prentiss, Reid, and Morgan, before opening his cell and dialing up the one and only Penelope Garcia.

"You have contacted the home of unfettered genius. Your goddess is here to listen."

"Penelope, we need you to coordinate a list of teenage girls who attend senior classes at all of the local high schools. She'll have been marked absent anywhere from this morning till just around 2pm."

"Alright, can do boss."

"Do you think you can get that list now baby girl?"

"Oh you know I'm working on it. Each girl attended the same three high schools. The first two from Melbourne Prep, the next four from Jones Academy, and Katy from Camelton High. Uuuuh, reports show 47 total absentees today across all schools. 15 from Camelton though. Of those 15, four were girls in the senior class. 3 are accounted for on a college tour together scheduled six months ago. But," more clicking could be heard as she worked away.

"Oh my god."

"What did you find Garcia?" Hotch's voice was stern, as he knew a reaction like that from his Technical Analyst never meant anything good.

"She's new but she's smart. Arrived at Camelton six weeks ago, had to be tested in, no previous school records. She's only 15, but she's in the senior class, and every AP class possible."

"We need a name Garcia."

"That's where the oh my god came from sir. Her name is Y/N. Y/N Winchester."

——————————————

"How did you know how to do that?" Alex's voice held a large amount of disbelief. But within reason, as just 30 minutes ago, she was an hour away from murder. Now, this 15 year old girl just freed them from their own burials.

"My brothers," you peaked through the rear view mirror at Alex, a more sincere smile on your lips now. "They taught me to always be prepared for the worst."

"Like survivalists?"piped in Tracy from the back seat.

"Sorta. It's the best way to describe it it guess. They've just seen a lot of bad shit in life. They taught me to overcome it."

The rest of the ride was quiet as the girls made their way back to police station. But your mind was far from silent. All you could go over in your head was the FBI protocols you had memorized years ago to be sure to cover your bothers' asses.

And right now, you were 97% sure that you'd be walking into a police precent filled with official FBI agents attempting to solve at least 5 child abductions.

And your last name was Winchester.

Right now if someone looked up the word "fucked" in the dictionary, you were sure it would have a picture of your face.

Son of a Bitch.

#criminal minds #bau team #derek morgan #david rossi #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #supernatural #winchester!reader #winchester!sister #fem!reader #aaron hotchner #very new to the BAU fandom :)#happy halloween #spooky #spoopy #part one of three

173 notes · View notes

sciencewithottsnpotts · 4 years ago

Text

“Every girl in the world wants to be the reason that a hard man turns soft.

How more likely it is, that said man will turn a soft girl hard.

Who’s fault is it truly when the blood drips from her fingers, and she cannot shed a tear?

So much beauty is lost and found again, in the sanctity of self-preservation.

Do not ask me if I ride or die.

My loyalties stay until you prove they need not to.

I made the mistake once of thinking I could turn your bark shielded heart into a bed of moss.

No I stand for me, myself, and all the girls hard men like you try to ruin.

You should be careful.

Cause the same way spilled ink runs rivers on a page, One wrong move from you will end with me red handed, with your blood the culprit.”

-Don’t call me Kitten, cause I’m more than just some Claws.

(A like of poetry created for version of me I’m never entirely sure exists.)

#poetry #strongwomen #shewolf #self love #selfdefense #female solidarity #strong

7 notes · View notes

sciencewithottsnpotts · 4 years ago

Text

Buried In The Nightshade Update!

I realized that the original post has a small chunk of text missing in it! It doesn’t really affect the overall story line- I just think it’s important. So- here’s a link to my Wattpad that has all the correct parts to it! :):) thanks for the support fellow BAU fans 🥰

Summary:

Reader is an intern and assistant to Media liaison Jennifer Jareau. After months of organizing files and only getting to meet a bit of the team at a time, reader is invited to travel with the team on a case. Little would they know the reader’s knowledge of obscure books and unheard of authors would come in handy for a case as crazy as this one.

And maybe- buried under the death of psycho killers, romance will get to bloom for the reader in a fellow book nerd.

https://www.wattpad.com/1143294475?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading_part_end&wp_uname=Pottsy_girl&wp_originator=uqZPNU5xInhwU2o7Ht8zwp5Xx3UQSBbY1Nk%2BB3AcHIkRPt0jscG%2BORc%2BsIH3le7eGcDBk2WEuXsW9YB2kwlX7QGQV6mAor420CrWdnNk39L7jR%2F2bzRMc3%2Bcnr2v0PY%2B

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #bau team #arron hotchner #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #david rossi #emily prentiss #erin strauss #gender nuetral reader #gn!reader #first fanfic #hope you like this!#:) :) :)#thanks loves

3 notes · View notes

sciencewithottsnpotts · 4 years ago

Text

Buried In The Nightshade

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Ahh! Ok. This is my first fanfic on here. But I’ve been binge watching Criminal Minds recently and so I had to post this! Let me know what you think!

Reader is an intern and an assistant to JJ. When reader is invited to help out on a semi-local case, even though she's far from an official agent yet, it just might be dependent on her to solve this case.

Who knew reading obscure books by unknown authors could come in so handy.

I do not own any recognizable character or Criminal Minds. A fictional book title and Author are mention in this fic. As far as I'm aware Buried in the Nightshade is just a book and an author I made up for this story. Any characters or plot not recognizable form the TV show are mine. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: about 4,000 words (more effort went into this than any of my college essays).

Warnings- uh- canon typical voilence? Mention of molestation. Just the mention though. No scenes that play it out.

Not really proof read.

—————————————————————————

When you entered college with a plan to get a degree in Biology and a specialization in DNA sequences - you had assumed you'd graduate and end up in a lab attempting to find the cure for cancer. And you would have been incredibly content with that outcome.

But somewhere along the lines the world thought it would throw you for a loop. Halfway through your freshman year you had taken a psychology class. And then again in your sophomore year you took two more. Next thing you know your attending conferences with a professor who wasn't even your adviser and getting an internship at the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit. Specifically you were working with an Agent Jennifer Jareu to triage through case file after case file (and help digitize them in the process). If you were being honest you were mostly doing the latter, but you didn't mind.

You joke with Penelope that it must be hard to have low self esteem with a friend like Derek Morgan.

At some point, somehow, JJ had convinced Director Strauss (or maybe she convinced Hotch who had convinced Strauss) that you should get some field experience. So, here you sat in a police precinct in a small town in Pennsylvania, looking over MO's and trying to figure out who this killer- correction, UnSub- is.

The weirdest part though- it felt hella familiar.

Like, Ive-lived-this-before familiar.

Or maybe more I've-read-this before.

"Holy shit."

You hadn't meant to say it out loud. After all, you were just the intern. You were technically supposed to be in the office, and even in the field you were just to help maintain the press with JJ.

When you realized everyone heard your exclamation you looked up sheepishly.

"Sorry," you could feel your face down to your neck turning red, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain."

"If you have something to say, y/n. Please, say it. This team functions best when information is not withheld." Hotch's words were stern but his eyes were kind.

You shifted in your seat, straightening your back and placing your copy of the case file on the table you had all gathered around.

"Well, um. I don't know if it'll be helpful. But- these killings, the shifting MO's and victim type remind of a book I read once."

You watched Spencer perk up at the word "book".

"What book?"

You turned to JJ and she nodded, encouraging you to continue. Your eyes glanced over the group. Rossi, Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, Hotch and JJ again before continuing.

"It's called Buried in the Nightshade by Gracelynn Bells."

The team looked to Spencer, expecting him to cut in. He stared at you with a blank look.

"I have never heard of this book before."

"Damn, pretty boy just got out read by good looking."

"Morgan." Hotch shot Derek a look to let him know to be quiet before turning back to you. "Continue, please."

"Well, it had a small launch back in my college town. Mostly sold through ebooks. It's set up like a collection of short stories. Each chapter involving different characters and ending with said characters death. Each one seemingly unrelated. Later the reader learns that the entire book is narrated by the spirit Death and that he orchestrated the loss of those lives. The final plot twist comes from the fact that Death does not truly exist. The narrator is actually a sibling to one of the first witnesses to the crimes, who was actually the killer. In the book, it was the Mayor's son, attempting to kill off anyone who could be competition in his father's campaign because he was afraid of what would happen if his father lost. Said father is exposed to be a child molester as well, and the entire estate is left to the Mayor's youngest kid who ends up in the care of the grandparents. It's this kid that's revealed to be the final voice in the end."

The room stares at you solemnly as they process your words. You want to say "I'm sorry I know it's stupid" but you can't bring yourself too. Because, there was a reason these killings felt similar to you. And you knew you were right to speak up.

"What was the order of the deaths in the book?" It's Prentiss who breaks the silence, though you weren't expecting it.

"What?"

"The deaths so far, have they been exact replicas of the book?"

"Well, so far yeah. The only differences being the amount of stab wounds in the second victim. In the book it's 31. Here it's only 13. But otherwise, everything else is like it's been pulled form the book."

"Alright then, how many deaths occur before the boy's discovered?"

You have to pause again, thinking through all the chapters in the book, before cringing at the amount.

"Fifteen."

The rooms silent again at your words. There were already seven of the 15 deaths fulfilled.

"Ok. So, we just had the man stung to death by bees," pipes up Morgan. "Who's next."

"I, uh, don't actually remember. But, uh... oh wait! I have it downloaded on my iPad!" You jump up and hustle over to your backpack that you brought to the precinct. Quickly, you grab your tablet and open up your reading app while sitting back in your seat.

It takes a moment to load but when the book opens to the table of contents you pause.

Chapter 8: Carrie's Carnage

"Oh crap. Uh, chapter 8 is where the local high school's holding its prom and the killer kidnaps and slaughters two of the chaperones. The killer follows them to the janitor's closet where they're having an affair with one another before he subdues them and and uses a few spare packs of string lights to hang them in the hallway before plugging them in to make sure the blood is visible. The narrator says "it looks like that scene out of Carrie, where the cheerleading squad pranks her by dropping blood from the ceiling. Only instead of just blood, the body parts came with it".

"There's a dance going on at the school tonight." All eyes turn to Reid as he cuts in. "I saw the flyer when we went to talk to the Richardson's. It was hanging on their fridge. Called it 1970's Decade Dance."

"The first Carrie movie was released in 1976." All eyes turn to Rossi as he says that, before cutting to Hotch as he moves from his seat, barking orders.

"Morgan, call Garcia and have her get the number for the school, the principal's personal cell, anything and everything, it's six right now, and I'm sure the dance is about to start. When we get there you and Reid are gonna head into the gymnasium and see if you can spot a kid who fits our unsub. Loner, socially inept, distanced.

"Rossi and JJ I want you two to go around to all the chaperones, get a head count and make sure none of them leave the gym. Prentiss, your with me, we're going to canvas the school's janitors closets. We'll get Garcia to send us over the blueprints while we're done the road."

The team moved like a machine. Different pieces, same goal. Smooth as butter they grabbed their gear and headed out. It was as Hotch was half way you the door did he realize you were still sitting there with your iPad open, tapping something on the screen. You were just an intern. You had no clearances to actually be in the field. Strauss was actually quite clear that you were not to leave the precinct unless it was to assist JJ with the press or go on a coffee run. You definitely shouldn't be allowed near the scene of the crime. But you were the only who knew what the character does, and what they did in the book influenced their UnSub.

"Y/N," he called for your attention, "Is there any way you could print out that chapter, so Reid can get his eyes on it?"

Just as he finished that sentence, the printer that had been set up in the office whirred to life and you looked up from the screen.

"Already ahead of you, Hotch. Here ya go." Grabbing the sheets off the printer, you stapled them together and hand wrote a not at the top of the page. Giving to Hotch you salute him as he heads off the door, a small smile cracking on his face. Who knew he would be able to smile in the middle of a case this gruesome.

———————————————

"Thank you for calling the office of the oh so wise and humble Penelope Garcia. Speak and be heard," you laugh at your friends eccentric (and expected) greeting.

"Hey Pen, I need you to help me with something."

"Sure, what's up my fine furry friend?"

"Can you trace the sales of an ebook back to people?"

"Is this the book you told the team about?"

"Yup." Clicking on the other side of the phone alerted you that Garcia was already on the job.

"Buried in the Nightshade, right?"

"Yup, by Gracelynn Bells. I need also need you to pull up a list of last names for boys from the junior class and then cross check those last names to the ones on the credit cards used to purchase the book."

"Oh my little pup," you couldn't help but laugh at Pen. Ever since she found out you volunteered at the local animal shelter to care for the dogs there, she'd been referring to you in canine-related terms. "You are brilliant, I say! Brilliant! There's one name that aligns. Last name Peetridge."

"Are the Peetridge’s a family of prominence here?"

"Prominence. Oh my fluffy honey, they're a founding family. Richest in town. Eldest son is a kicker on the football team. Straight A's, president of the social committee. He helped plan the dance and everything. Exemplary records."

"Got a younger sibling?"

"Two. Twin girls. The one died though with the mother in the car accident. The other one's been home schooled since then. Living with her grandparents in Philly though. Seems like the brother's still really close with her. There's records of his cell calling a number in that area code at least twice a week."

"How many of those phone calls align with the days of the murders?"

"At least half of them were made the day after a death occurred."

"Alright. That's good Pen. Can you get this to the team? They're probably almost to the school but knowing this might help."

"You gotta chica." You went to sign off the call when she stopped you. "Oh, and y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Go get yourself a treat. You did good. Garcia out!"

You laugh as the call ends. It's in the silence of the conference room that your nerves finally kick in. This is the first case you've ever been on site for, even if you were stuck in the precinct. But you felt the tension in the hair and didn't know how to handle it. So, in an attempt to wait out the team, you started re-reading chapter eight.

——————————————————

"He won't say word. No matter how many times we say his name or his father's name, or try showing him pictures of the victims, he just sits there. He doesn't even flinch at loud noises. How are we supposed to interrogate a suspect who doesn't react?" Prentiss was pacing the small room on the other side of the glass. You sat on a filing cabinet in the back, near the desk of the tech who was running the sound and camera for the interrogation room.

You listened in on the team as they discussed the best way to approach him now that their first few tactics failed.

"What if he's not responding to his name, because right now he's not Andrew Peetridge?"

"What'd'ya mean good looking?"

"I mean, what if he believes he's the character in the book right now? He didn't get the chance to fulfill the killing? So what if he's stuck as the killer from the book until he succeeds? It could be a way of protecting himself, ya know?"

"That's a strong possibility." Mumbled Rossi, "What's the kid's name in the book?"

"Chase. Chase Wattigger. His dads name was William Wattigger."

"Reid," the boy genius' head snaps up from the copy of chapters 1-7 you had printed out once they said they were on route to the precinct with the boy. He looked at Hotch as if he already knew what was gonna be asked of him. "Do you think you could lead this interrogation since you've gotten to read the book?"

"Only the first eight chapters. Y/N would be better suited to go in since they've read the whole book."

"No offense y/n, but Strauss was very clear on what you were and weren't allowed to do in this trip and interrogating possible murderers was one of the things she said not to do"

"With all due respect to the director," the team looks at you as you cut in, "She said in place of interrogation I could help question the victims. Andrew is also a victim here. A murderer, yeah. But he was a victim first. Same thing with Chase Wattigger. They were abused before they ever started killing."

"Fine," Hotchner caved a lot sooner than you thought he would, "But Reid's going in there with you. I can't allow you to go alone."

"Are you ok with that?" Spencer asked you as he set down the manuscript.

"Yeah. Let's do this."

———————————————————

You had been right. Calling him Chase was what was needed to get Andrew to react to the interrogation. After that, you and Reid got him to talk like it was nobodies business. The team watched, impressed, as

an interrogation that had already had 30 minutes of silence, ended just 10 minutes later with a boat load of info and the means to secure a warrant against William Wattigger.

When the team busted down his front door they found tons of child pornography and access to sketchy chat rooms on his computer and were able to put him away too.

Before they knew it, the team was packing up their suitcases and preparing for a drive back down to Quantico. Everyone seemed to be in a really good mood, despite the gruesome nature of the case. Everyone was really kind to you too. Congratulating you on your part in saving lives.

The ride back to the office got you back around 2pm and so you all ended up getting straight to the books to fill out paper work. It was as you sat in the copy room scanning in files to a thumb drive that you felt a presence behind you.

"Oh Spencer! Hey, what can I do for you?" While the two of you had bonded on the car ride back (a bond that was initiated by the double teamed interrogation), you still felt hesitant around him. Whether it was your silly crush on the man of the fact that you were back in the professional world of the office, you wouldn't know, nor ever admit to.

"Hey, uh, I was just wandering if you'd know where I could get a physical copy of the book?"

"The Nightshade book?"

He just nodded his head.

"Oh uh. No, I'm sorry. I don't. I've tried finding a way to purchase a hardback version myself. To add to my collection, but I've been unsuccessful."

"Oh." He seemed disappointed and at a loss for words. After fumbling around for a bit he finally got a sentence right. "Well, uh, would it be possible for you to print out the rest of it? I'd really like to finish it now that I've started it."

"Oh! Sure! Yeah I can do that."

"Cool, thank you."

"No problem." You turned back to the scanner next to you but realized he was still there. "Is there something else?"

You watched as a deep red blush creeped across the doctor's cheeks. "We'll, uh, yeah. Actually, one more thing."

"What's up?"

He shrugged his shoulders as he scratched the back of his head. "Would you-uh-well, like to discuss the book with me? After I finish it that is. We can go to a coffee shop or something?" He was blushing. Hard. And you couldn't help but smile at him.

"Like a date?"

"What! Oh-no. Not a - I mean. Unless you'd want- but I don't mean to overstep or anything. I mean-"

He cut himself off when he watched you stand up from your chair in front of the printer.

"Tomorrow after work. Brewstop Cafe? You like that place right? You buy the drinks, and I'll buy the sweets?"

"Oh- uh. Yeah. Yeah that sounds great."

You smiled at him. "Great. I'll make sure to print the last of the book out tonight . Make sure you stop in with me before you leave so I don't forget."

"Yeah. Ok. I can do that!" He looked like a kid in a candy store. Or more like a Reid in an antique book store. It was cute.

"Sweet, it's a date!"

As he turned to leave he paused and looked at you again. "How'd you know I like Brewstop?"

"Oh!" Now it was your turn to blush. "Whenever I come into work, there's always a cup with their logo on it sitting on a desk. I didn't know who's desk it was until we all left for the case at the beginning of the week. But then you met us out at the SUVs with a cup from there while everyone else had ones from the shop just a street away from the building. I kinda just put two and two together."

"Oh. Wow. How perceptive of you."

"Thanks?" You weren't sure if he meant it as a compliment or not at first. But at his smile you could assume he meant it.

"No problem. Well, i'll uh- see you later then."

"Yup! See ya!"

—————————————————

You had just finished organizing all your scanned files when there was a knock on the doorframe of your and JJ's office.

You looked up to see your boss. "Hey, Hotch. JJ just slipped out for the moment. She should be back soon."

"It's alright. I actually wanted to speak with you."

You couldn't help but stiffen up at his words, worry spiking your veins. It was always that way whenever you were called into offices or if an authority figure wanted to speak with you in private. Even when there was no need to be nervous, you were.

"Oh? What can I do for you."

He stepped into the office, taking the single seat by your desk. His face was less stoic than it had been on the case. Shoulders a bit more relaxed after another successful solve. "I just wanted to let you know that you did great out there this week. Without you, that kid would have killed at least two more victims before we got our hands on him. You were quick on your feet in having Garcia narrow down the list of suspects for us and you were a natural in the interrogation room with Reid. I know we haven't spoken much since you started here, and you hadn't met the whole team before, but you've been a great asset to all of us."

"Oh. Wow. Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that." You really did. It had been awhile since you'd gotten such a sincere compliment from someone like that. (Morgan's good looking comments withstanding).

"Of course. You deserve to know." He stood and made his way to the doorway. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes, sir?"

A glimpse of a smile played on his lips. "When you graduate and get into the academy, let me know. We'd love to have you on the team." And with that he walked out, just as JJ walked in to see you starting wide eyed at the door.

"Everything ok?"

You turned to her then, thinking. A compliment from a superior and a date with an incredibly intelligent FBI agent all in the same week?

"Yeah. Everything's great actually."

The smile she returned to you made your broaden your own as you got back to organizing the files on your desktop.

Yeah, everything was great. And would probably only get better.

—————- extra goody - ——————————

It was 6 o'clock when Spencer knocked on your office door. You looked up and smiled at him as he entered. JJ had already left for the day. You assumed so too had Prentiss, Morgan, and Garcia. More than likely, Rossi and Hotch were still in their offices as well.

"Hey! Headed out for the night?" You don't know why you felt the need to ask him that. It was 6pm. Of course he was headed out. And he was coming to get that copy of the book before he left so you two could go out on your date tomorrow.

"Yup," he popped the 'p' as he stuck his hands in his pockets, feet rocking on the floor.

You just smiled at him and reached for packet on the filing cabinet behind you. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He took it from you as he just stood there staring you down. You on the other hand couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Blushing like a kid with a silly schoolyard crush.

"Well uh, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah!" You gotta a little loud at that and smiled sheepishly. "Haha yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Cool." And with that he turned away and walked out the door. You had just sat down and turned back to the computer when you saw him peak his head back in.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Why's it called Buried in the Nightshade? When, at least in the first eight chapters, there's no mention of the flower?"

You couldn't help but smile your knowing smile. "Well. I guess you'll have to finish it to find out?"

"But-"

"Good night Spencer," you cut him off. Your words were kind though, and there was a mischievous spark in your eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow."

There was an unspoken promise in your words. A silent "we'll talk then" whispering across the office to Spencer. All communicated through your smile.

"Alright. Tomorrow. Goodnight."

———————————————————

The next day there was small potted plant sitting by your desk, on the corner closest to window, atop of the filing cabinet you stored all your completed paper work in. A little label sign stuck out amongst the foliage, though you didn't need the sign to know what sat in the pot.

A freshly planted pot of milliflora petunias (a member of the nightshade family) shines in the morning light coming through your blinds. The flowering buds the same exact color as the ones mentioned in the story. At the sight of the flowers you turned yourself back out to the bullpen to see Spencer sitting at his desk (a desk that had been empty just moments prior as you walked into work that morning), his back to you, and a cup of coffee from Brewstop cafe sitting by him. He must have felt your eye on him because next thing you know, you're looking into his sweet brown eyes, a smiling growing on your lips.

A smile that doesn't leave your face the whole day as you watched your little petunias grow. Even as JJ sung her little "Y/n and Spencer sitting in a tree..." song under her breath.

Yeah- things were great.

#criminal minds #bau team #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #arron hotchner #david rossi #erin strauss #fbi agent #fanfiction #gender nuetral reader #please be kind

166 notes · View notes