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Pretty Boy	By : Wagamama_hime Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 4813 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS Corporation. This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit from its publication.

Chapter List
- 2
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Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole property of the CBS Corp. This is a work of fiction and I am not making any profit from its publication.
A/N: Thanks for all your reviews, favorites/subscriptions, and general support! :) And happy belated Chanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, and "Holidays" in general! At least I got this out before the New Year! Yay! Have a good (and safe) NYE to all of you who are going out.
Happy Reading!
xoxo

Derek Morgan stood silently next to his Unit Chief as they watched the interview that was just getting underway through the two-way mirror. Hotch had decided that J.J. and Prentiss should be the first to take a crack at the scrappy teen after seeing how relaxed the boy had seemed to be in J.J.'s presence.
"Hey, Spencer," J.J. said as she sat down and pushed a glass of cool water across the table to him.
"As I mentioned to you before my name is Agent Jennifer Jareau, but most of my friends call me J.J. I'd also like to introduce you to another colleague of mine, Emily Prentiss," J.J. said as she motioned toward the dark-haired woman who had also taken a seat across from Spencer.
Spencer shyly graced the two women with a small, forced smile.
"Spencer, we have a few questions to ask you about the murder that took place at your club about a week ago," Emily said, giving him a kind look.
Spencer looked down at his hands.
I just need to stick with the story I gave the cops. Hopefully they'll just let me go once they realize I know nothing. He thought to himself, and then glanced back up at the two kind-eyed women. His eyes shifted back down to his lap, and he felt a pang of guilt for lying to them, but they weren't going to pay his rent when he was out of a job...
"Yea… well, I heard about that happening." He said softly, eyes still trained on his clasped hands. "But, I wasn't there to see anything. So, like I told Ms. Jareau back at the club, I can't help you guys."
Emily and J.J. shared a perturbed look. Emily then placed a file softly down on the table, the soft sound in the otherwise silent room enough to cause Spencer to glance up.
"Well, Spencer, we all know that that's not quite true, is it? " Emily said, staring at the boy with her discerning dark eyes. "Someone made a 911 call that night, and we have a technical analyst who's very good at her job. She was able to find out, with certainty, that the person who made that call was you."
Spencer's eyes widened at he stared at her. He then frowned.
Shit, shit, shit. He thought, panic quickly starting to set in. They know I lied and now I look even more suspicious.
"Ok… well, so what if I called? No one else was doing anything. I… I just figured that the police needed to be involved, you know?" Spencer said, quite defensively.
J.J. furrowed her brows.
"But, Spencer, did you feel like you had a responsibility to call because maybe you were the one who discovered the body?" she asked gently.
"No!" Spencer said adamantly. "I didn't see anything. I just called because everyone was talking about it and someone needed to do something, ok? That's all."
Spencer then leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He purposefully avoided eye contact with the two agents, seeming to find the plain steel table suddenly fascinating.
Sensing that they were losing their once-compliant witness, the two women decided to change the subject.
"Ok, Spencer," J.J. began, putting her hands up in a placating gesture, and then clasping them in front of her, "why don't you just tell us a little about what happened that day? You know, like when you got to work, what you did, who you spoke to, etc."
Spencer glanced up at her and bit his lip. Averting his eyes for a second, he then leaned in and sighed.
"O-ok… So, I got to work as usual around 2pm. I was just serving drinks to customers all day. You know, like what you saw me doing at the club earlier..." He told her, his eyes flickering to hers and then quickly away.
J.J. blinked at him.
"So, that's all you do there? You're just a waiter?" she asked him.
Spencer blushed a bit and dropped his eyes to his lap. He couldn't bear to have them look at him with disgust and judgment, like he was some kind of whore. He didn't want them to know what he really did at the club and there was no reason he had to tell them.
"Yes. I mean, I don't…strip on a pole or anything, if that's what you're asking…" he mumbled.
Not exactly a lie, he thought to himself, as he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.
Emily and J.J. exchanged another look, before looking up at the two-way mirror and shaking their heads. They weren't born yesterday and knew that, for some reason, Spencer was reluctant to be forthright with them. He had a lot of tells—one of which they were currently observing as he absentmindedly nibbled on his bottom lip. However, they hoped that with a bit more prodding, and if they somehow got him to relax, he would open up.
"Ok, so tell me about the people you talked to that day," Emily continued.

"He's lying," Hotch said flatly as he observed the interview in progress. Morgan nodded silently in agreement. They hadn't needed the signals from Emily and J.J. to pick up on that. Everything about the boy's body language, lack of eye contact, and defensiveness showed that he was hiding something.
"I don't think this kid had anything to do with the actual murder, but I'm not sure why he's hiding what he knows. It's obvious to me that he likes J.J. and Prentiss, but his eagerness to have them like him seems to be making him somewhat embarrassed about his profession. You don't think he's just a waiter, do you?" Hotch asked Morgan.
"Nope," Morgan said as he picked up their ever-growing case-file, recently supplemented with additional information about the boy in question. "I talked to one of the bartenders there before the kid showed up and it seems like there are 4 men who perform in the private rooms. Although Spencer was only serving drinks when we got there, the bartender made it clear to me that none of the racy stuff really kicks off until after 9. When we were getting him ready to leave, Spencer made J.J. promise to get him back to the club before 9 so he could prepare for his "real shift." And he just told J.J. he doesn't strip on the poles, so, yea, I'd say he's trying to hide that from them."
"Hmm," Hotch said as he continued to watch the interview in front of him stoically, "it doesn't help us if his major concern is trying to give them a good impression of him. We need someone who can…'persuade' him to tell the truth, no matter how sordid it may be."
Morgan glanced at the older man, with a raised brow.
"I'm guessing you intend for me to be that 'persuasion,' huh?" he asked sardonically.
Hotch smiled slightly and looked at Morgan out of the corner of his eye.
"Well, don't tell me you're surprised?" he asked.
Morgan rolled his eyes.
"Nah, not surprised. But, I'd be lying if I said that the kid has warmed up to me. Every time he looked at me I was reminded of a cat who was preparing to hiss." Morgan explained, slight amusement entering his voice.
"Hmm," Hotch said after a moment of contemplation. "Well, that can be something we can work with as well. And now that you have the additional information Garcia has been able to pull up on him, I'm sure you can use it to put some 'pressure' on him."
"Got you," Morgan said as he gripped the thick file in his hand and nodded at his superior.
Thinking back on the nasty looks Spencer had given him, Morgan felt that "hissing cat" had been a very fitting description. Spencer's wide eyes, soft pale face, and pouty lips made his age so much more apparent—he appeared almost cherubic. But when those eyebrows furrowed, and anger flashed in those honey-colored eyes, Morgan could see that the kid could be a force to be reckoned with—when he wanted to be.
But for the life of him, Morgan couldn't understand what about him, in particular, set the kid off. It couldn't be merely that Spencer was a "fuck Authority" type of kid because he seemed fine with J.J. and they both worked for the Government. And he knows he couldn't have possibly said anything to have offended Spencer during their brief encounter. He had barely said two sentences to him before the kid had bristled. Rolling his eyes, Morgan knew getting anywhere with Spencer would be an uphill battle. But he also knew he was stubborn enough to keep pushing until he got what he wanted.
Morgan's attention was drawn back to the interview taking place in front of him as Hotch rapped twice on the glass pane, signaling to the other two agents inside the interview room. The two men watched as Prentiss and J.J. explained to Spencer that they needed to step away for a moment. The boy smiled politely at them and nodded his understanding.
As the two agents exited the room, Hotch and Morgan watched with interest as the smile slowly faded from the boy's face, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes dropped back down to his lap. This was a different Spencer.

Fifteen minutes later, Agent Derek Morgan walked into the small interrogation room. Glancing up at the sound of the opening door, Spencer's body language changed as he took in the sight of the older, mocha-skinned male. He hadn't taken much time to take stock of the attractive, self-assured agent when he had first come across him in the club. Eyes sweeping over the muscular man's body, he took note of the dark, charcoal-gray button down and black tie he wore, accompanied by black slacks. Everything was well-fitted and seemed to be of good quality. Even the man's goatee was perfectly trimmed. Obviously, he took pride in his appearance. Everything about him—down to the cologne he wore—screamed alpha-male. Bristling, almost unconsciously, Spencer sat up straighter and followed the man with his eyes, the same way wary prey would watch a predator.
As Spencer was watching Morgan, so too was Morgan watching Spencer. Spencer looked tense, and now that he was under brighter lights, the agent could see more clearly that there were dark circles under the boy's eyes. He was still wearing the dark eye liner, and Morgan could see errant traces of whatever glitter he had brushed on his body clinging to the boy's cheeks. These remnants of his club persona, which fit the boy so enticingly in the heady atmosphere of the club, now seemed so out of place with the persona that Spencer was reflecting now. The boy in front of him looked like he was late for a study hall meeting, not like he had moments before been playing a sex kitten.
Tearing his eyes away from the guarded-looking youth, Morgan purposefully ignored the boy as he sat down and began to dissemble the case file, pulling out reports, pictures, and other information that he would use to aid him in cracking the kid in front of him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Morgan could see Spencer shifting slightly as he tried to see what was on the sheets laid out in front of the agent. It was apparent that his inability to see frustrated Spencer. After a few more moments of nothing but the sound of shuffling papers filling the room, Spencer spoke up.
"So… what happened to J.J. and Emily?" he asked nonchalantly.
He doesn't seem scared of me, Derek thought to himself, but he obviously isn't pleased about my presence.
"Oh, so they're 'J.J.' and 'Emily' to you?" Morgan asked flatly as he finally looked up, meeting the younger man's eyes.
Spencer's face heated up, and his brows lowered into a glare. Morgan couldn't help but think that what the boy probably assumed was a threating façade in actuality was more akin to a petulant child pouting. If the kid wasn't being so difficult, Derek would have thought it was cute.
"Is this supposed to be the Fed version of "good cop, bad cop?" If so, I'd much prefer the ladies," Spencer said giving Morgan a deadpan look.
Derek scoffed at the boy's attitude, and returned an equally scathing look.
"I introduced myself to you before as Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan. Agents Prentiss and Jareau have stepped out to deal with other pressing matters. So I will be continuing the rest of this interview," Derek explained.
Spencer sat back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at Derek with an unimpressed expression. Derek knew that look well. He had seen it from a multitude of individuals, ranging from cops, witnesses, crooks, and even victims. It screamed, "I'm going to be difficult." But, Derek knew how to be difficult, too.
"First off," he said, ignoring Spencer's dismissive attitude, "you're lying about being a waiter at Mon Petit Chien. We looked at your financials and you make an average of $3400 a month. There's no way you'd make that purely on tips by waiting tables alone."
The transformation that took over Spencer's face upon hearing that news was almost instant.
"What the fuck!?" he snarled, "You people have been snooping through my financial information?"
Spencer couldn't believe how sneaky they had all been. And he couldn't help but wonder if J.J. and Emily had known all this too. He suddenly felt a pang of betrayal. Even though he didn't know the women, he had expected more from them…hadn't expected them to disappoint him like everyone else tended to do.
Derek ignored the outburst and outraged expression on the kid's face as he read over the bank statements in front of him. From what Garcia had been able to gather, he knew exactly what the boy did with his income. He spent $600 a month on rent for a tiny, dilapidated apartment on the seedier side of town. But the majority of his monthly income went to paying for his mother's care at the Bennington Sanitarium; a cost that ran him nearly $2400 a month. Other than that, Spencer lived on almost nothing and didn't even own a car. It was actually quite sad, Derek found himself thinking.
"We're the FBI, Spencer," Derek said looking back up into the boy's angry eyes. "And this is a Federal investigation. We have the right to look into the history of potential suspects."
Spencer's eyes widened at the word "suspect," and he felt his stomach drop.
"Y-you think I had anything to do with…" he trailed off in shock.
"Tell me about what you do at the club," Derek said, ignoring the look of panic on the boy's face. "You made it clear to Agent Jareau that you don't strip on the main stage. So, would I be correct to assume you're one of the private showroom boys?" Derek asked, keeping his expression impassive as he studied Spencer's face.
Again, Spencer's face blossomed red at the mention of his profession, but this wasn't the same coy and shy blush he had showed when J.J. had talked with him. This was more a blush of anger and embarrassment. All Spencer could think was that this man was here to humiliate him—to rub into his face that he debased himself for money. Spencer felt anger boiling in his gut.
"I don't see why what I do is any of your fucking business-" Spencer began, heatedly, but his words were cut short as Derek slammed his hand on the table, causing the boy to jump and stare at him with wide eyes.
"It's MY business if you stood in your little glass palace and watched a man be murdered and did nothing about it! If you're not the killer, then I will definitely have them charge you with obstruction of justice, in the least." Derek threatened, locking his dark eyes on to the wide-eyed boy.
"Obstruction of justice?" Spencer asked, incredulous. "I'm the one who called the fucking police!"
Spencer's eyes widened at his admission. He then snapped his mouth shut and looked off to the side, angrily. This agent was bringing out the worst in him. Usually, Spencer kept to himself and kept his head down; only speaking when he had to. Things were easy that way. But, now, he couldn't keep his cool and he was spouting off, saying things he knew he would later regret.
"Spencer, we need to know what you saw. It's not enough to say you were being a Good Samaritan and called it in after the fact. We think you did see something. And anything you remember—no matter how small it is—could really help us in catching this guy…. This isn't the first time he's done it, kid," Derek said, lessening the severe tone in his voice. He hoped he could appeal to the boy's conscience. He watched as Spencer glanced up at him, surprise evident on his face.
"So far, he's killed 8 other men—that we know of. He's a bona fide serial killer, and until we catch him no one's safe. So, if you're scared for some reason and don't want to tell us what you saw because you think someone will retaliate against you, or maybe someone's threatened to hurt you, you can trust in us that we can, and will, protect you. I'll protect you." Derek told him sincerely.
Spencer scoffed at this entreaty. Yet another cocky man trying to give him false promises. People always lied. And Agent Morgan was no different.
"Protect me? Yeah right." Spencer spat, locking eyes challengingly with the older male. "People like you aren't interested in protecting me. So, you want to know what I have to say to all that bullshit? FUCK. You."
"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Derek barked at him, causing Spencer to flinch.
The boy became silent but a different kind of darkness passed over his eyes. Spencer was more guarded now than Derek had ever seen.
"Don't you dare talk about my mother," Spencer warned, seething.
Derek paused, realizing he had found an opening. His conscience didn't necessarily want him to go down this route, but he needed the leverage.
"Hmm, well," he said as his fingers ran over one of the documents laid out before him, "what would Diana Reid have to say about this? I'm sure your mother doesn't know how you make your bread. But, you know, we need all the information we can get, and so when we go to talk to her—and we will have to talk to her if you don't cooperate, Spencer—I can't guarantee that we won't have to explain to her what her coward of a son has been doing with his time. It's probably for the best that she's been committed to the Bennington Sanitarium… she doesn't have to look at what you've become," Derek said, feigning sympathy.
Derek watched Spencer silently as the boy's shoulders tensed and his lips curled back in a snarl. In the blink of an eye, Spencer was on his feet, hands slammed down on the table and looking like he was ready to lunge across the table at Derek.
"Stay away from my mother, you son of a bitch!" he screamed. "Don't you dare say anything to her! I swear to God, don't you dare!"
Derek held up a hand to the two-way mirror, sure that his supervisor was moments away from storming in to the interview room to subdue the erratic boy. Spencer's eyes were flashing, his face red with anger, and tension rolled off his body in waves. But, Derek was sure he could handle this, and after a few moments with no interruptions from Hotch (and nothing more than the sound of Spencer's heavy breathing), Derek continued.
"Take a seat, Spencer." Derek said firmly. "I don't want to involve your mother. I know you're actually a good kid. You've never been arrested, never had a ticket—hell, you've never even had a late fine from the library. And while I don't know how you ended up where you are now, I know where you're from and who you were before this. I know you're a certifiable genius, with an IQ of 187, and that you graduated from high school here in Vegas at only twelve-years-old. And I know how much you sacrifice every day to take care of your sick mother. You take really good care of her and you should be proud of yourself, kid."
Although looking at Derek warily, and still with a high degree of distrust, Spencer seemed to have been somewhat placated by Derek's words and slowly lowered himself down into his seat.
"But, Spencer," Derek continued, "I think your mother would be disappointed if she knew you knew something that could save another person's life and you kept that information to yourself."
Not meeting Derek's eyes, Spencer was quiet for a moment as he chewed thoughtfully at his lip and played with the hem of his t-shirt.
He's trying to manipulate me, Spencer thought to himself. But, he also couldn't deny the truth to the agent's words. When had he become such a coward… and so jaded? He had always prided himself on trying to be his mother's superhero. When his dad left… and then when his mom's condition steadily began to get worse… And here he was, faced with an opportunity to help the authorities put a stop to a sadistic killer—the kind of job he would've dreamed of having when he was younger, and before all the problems… But all he was trying to do now was run away. He knew he was being selfish, but getting involved was scary. Spencer had always been risk-averse, and getting involved with the FBI would just bring a lot of problems. Unless he could get some guarantees.
"I…I can't afford to lose my job," he said suddenly as he turned wide honey-colored eyes on to Derek. "B-but, Mr. Victor wasn't one of the bad ones….a-and I think he deserves to have his killer caught."
"Ok," Derek said. "First off, why do you think you'll lose your job?"
"Ah…" Spencer stalled as he pulled his bottom lip back into his mouth, drawing Derek's eyes momentarily to the plump lip.
"I just… please, you have to promise you won't try to charge my boss with anything." The boy pleaded.
Derek's brows furrowed and he glanced briefly towards the two-way mirror.
"Did someone tell you not to report the murder, Spencer?" he asked the boy.
"She… well, she didn't think it'd do anyone any good if he was found inside. So she wanted to take him outside, but… she didn't want me to call the police. She didn't do anything wrong. And no one at the club was involved with what happened to him!" Spencer explained.
"Ok, ok. Relax. Before we get to that point, tell me what you saw. And, please, use as much detail and tell me everything you can think of. Even the smallest thing could be important." Derek prodded.
Spencer sighed and gripped the table tightly. Looking down at his hands, he began to speak.
"It was… horrible. I was…um… I was preparing the room for the next session," he said, a slight blush forming on his cheeks, "w-when I saw movement from the other side of the curtain. Th-there's sometimes a little gap where the two sides don't quite meet. I was a little annoyed because I didn't think anyone would be in there so early… b-but when I went to go see what was going on…"
Spencer stopped and took in a deep shuddering breath. Seeing that the boy was struggling with the images in his memory, Derek leaned over and lightly placed his hand over the boy's white-knuckled one. This seemed to snap Spencer out of his reverie, and he quickly slid his hand out from underneath Derek's, clasping both his hands in his lap. He offered the agent a weak smile in exchange and continued.
"I…I saw the back of a tall man in a dark or black trench coat. I couldn't really understand why he'd be wearing something like that… it's so hot here, you know? But, um, he was strange. I think he was probably White, with very dark hair, cut short. I think he looked muscular from what I could tell and not particularly old.
And…he had some kind of tattoo on his neck? I could only see just a glimpse of it, but it was something that looked like swirls, maybe… For some reason, the tattoo seems familiar, but I know I didn't recognize him. He wasn't anyone I had ever seen before at the club. And…b-before I could blink he… he w-was raising his arm, and I saw something like metal. And then he sw-swung it down hard, and… ugh, oh God… he stabbed Mr. Victor in the head," Spencer said through gasps.
Derek watched the shaking boy, impressed that he hadn't succumbed to tears.
"Ok, Spencer, you did great. All that information will be really helpful to us," Derek told him.
"Yea?" Spencer asked, clearly not believing the agent, but glad that the man had distracted him form the images that had been called back to the forefront of his consciousness.
"You can't even begin to imagine. No one's ever seen this man before so now, thanks to you, we have so much more information about him." Derek said, flashing the boy a full grin.
Spencer flushed.
"What? But I only saw him from behind. I have no idea what his face looks like or what he sounds like or anything," he said as he furrowed his brow, confusion evident on his face.
"We know his race, approximate height, and that he has a distinct tattoo. We didn't have any of that before, and these can all help us track him down. You've been a big help, Spencer, believe me. I'm going to have you go sit with one of our sketch artists for a little bit so you can describe to him better what you saw, and then we'll have someone take you back to the club, ok?" Derek asked as he got to his feet.
Spencer nodded at him silently, seeming to be once again lost in his own thoughts.

Seated around the conference table provided to them by the Las Vegas Police Department, the five agents discussed the facts of the case.
"Well, we definitely learned some interesting things through the little he was able to tell us about the Unsub," Hotch was saying.
"I noticed something interesting," Derek offered, "Spencer mentioned something about the Unsub's attire and that it was strange for the man to be wearing a black trench coat in this heat. It just crossed my mind that the Unsub may have worn that coat specifically because he intended to kill in a populated place and knew he needed to be concealed to get out unobserved. I wonder if he chose a black trench because blood stains would not be as noticeable on that type of fabric. Although the strip club is a variation from his usual locale, I think this wasn't an opportunistic kill. The trench coat, plus the knife and whatever he used to brand the victim with tells me that he planned to kill this man, and he didn't care that it was in such a populated place."
"You're right," Emily said as she nodded. "This man definitely puts thoughtful planning into all his kills. And he doesn't make mistakes. It's not by chance that he's gone unobserved this whole time during his other killings. So, even though the strip club was a much more populated place than the locations of any of his previous kills, it can't be a coincidence that he committed the murder in a private viewing room that has no cameras and is only assigned to one individual. This is in addition to the fact that he performed it in the lull time in between sessions when the performers clean their rooms. Spencer even said it's uncommon for clients to be waiting there that early, so I'm thinking the Unsub must've lured our victim to get there early—maybe for a meeting or something? If so, that seems pretty damn planned to me. I just can't understand why he'd kill in a strip club of all places."
"That is strange," J.J. said. "But, for whatever reason, this Unsub chose this specific club. So he must be somewhat familiar with its schedule. And this club doesn't seem to be something that any average Joe off the street would know about. When Morgan and I were talking to the bartender we learned that the 'services' provided at this place are pretty high-priced. So, I'm wondering if this is one of those "word of mouth," you have to "know somebody" to get in types of places, or even if it's maybe by invite only?"
"Good point, J.J. That should be something we look into. Garcia?" Hotch asked, as he leaned over the phone that was sitting in the middle of the table.
"Yes, sir?" the tech's voice sounded over the speaker.
"Look into how patrons find out about this club and if there is any documented guest or member list," he instructed her.
"Right away, sir! I'll let you know what I find out ASAP," she said, and they heard the other line click.
The other agents murmured amongst themselves as they perused the case files until Emily let out a loud sigh drawing everyone's attention to her.
"I'm glad Spencer finally came clean," she said as she sipped at her coffee, "but, God, that must've been horrible to have to watch that happen. And worse yet that he wanted to report it but management told him not to."
Rossi nodded his agreement. "Yea, the kid seems pretty shaken up, but there's still something odd about how he's processing it. Like, he's compartmentalizing it in some way. It looked as if he had never even let himself really think about it until he was relating it to Morgan a few minutes ago."
"His story's so sad," J.J. said with a sad frown. "From what his file tells us, he's brilliant and was working towards a double-major bachelor's degree when he just dropped out at age 15. He was in his final semester and had so much potential. Apparently he was even expected to start a PhD program right after finishing up his undergraduate but since that never happened, neither did the PhD. I wonder what happened to lead him to… this…"
Derek sighed dejectedly. He was feeling just as bad for the kid as his colleagues. But, in addition to the generally unfortunate state of Spencer's circumstances, Derek had a needling feeling that there was much more to this kid's story but that Spencer was hiding it. There were just certain things—the way he seemed to almost indiscriminately become attached to some people, like J.J. and Emily, but seemed highly distrustful of others, like Derek himself. And it didn't go unnoticed by Derek how Spencer had seemed to really dislike his attempt to comfort him by laying his hand on top of the boy's. Working in a profession like his, Derek would assume the boy would be used to being touched. Something just seemed… off. But, he supposed it wasn't his job to find out what made Spencer Reid tick. In reality, the boy's past had little, if anything, to do with the case at hand. He felt like that was going to be something he would have to continue to remind himself.
"Agent Morgan?" a uniformed female officer said as she knocked on the door gaining everyone's attention. "The sketch artist is done with that witness now. It's kind of amazing what he was able to remember about that tattoo he saw. Like he has a photographic memory or something. The artist was able to get a really good sketch. Anyway, the witness said someone told him he'd be given a ride back to his job. Do you want one of us to handle it?"
Derek quickly looked around the room at his other colleagues and got to his feet.
"You know what? Thanks, but let me handle it, ok?" he offered as he began to shrug on his jacket.
Hotch looked at his subordinate with interest, but merely nodded his consent and Morgan was out the door.

The ride back to Mon Petit Chien was a silent one. Derek had offered to personally drive Spencer back to the club because he had thought that the boy had come to trust him a bit. He wouldn't go so far as to say the kid liked him and now they could hang out and discuss the Chicago Bulls, but at least he thought he was safe in saying Spencer no longer saw him as a "threat." But, now, he wasn't so sure.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spencer hunched up against the passenger seat window, back to Morgan, staring listlessly out into the rainy night. His body language seemed as if he wished he were anywhere but there at the current moment.
He obviously doesn't seem like he wants to be stuck in this car with me, but, at least he doesn't seem nervous or afraid, Derek thought to himself. He'd take that as progress.
As Derek pulled into the parking lot of the club, he quickly pressed the lock button before the boy could hightail it out of the car. Shocked, Spencer whipped around to look at him with wide, confused eyes, body tensed and alert.
"Relax," Derek said as he put his hands up non-threateningly. "I just want to talk to you for a few minutes and I could tell that you looked like you wanted to jump out the car as soon as I parked."
Spencer pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, but the tension slipped out of his shoulders and he looked at Derek expectantly.
Derek had to suppress a smile. The kid definitely wasn't afraid of him. If anything, it seemed like he saw Derek as some type of huge inconvenience.
"So…for right now my boss has decided he's not going to pursue anything with your managers about the obstruction charge." Derek said and watched as Spencer visibly perked up.
"I can't say anything about whether Detective Stone will pursue it on a state level or not. If he does, it's out of our hands. But, for the time being, we haven't exactly let him know that that's what you told us, ok?" Derek asked, hoping this would be enough to appease him. He didn't want Spencer thinking they had tried to trick him.
Spencer shrugged and nodded.
"Next," Derek continued as he reached into his back pocket and fished out his wallet. "I want to talk to you a bit more about what I said about protecting you."
Spencer followed Derek's hands with his eyes as the agent reached into his wallet and produced a business card. Handing over the small, white card to the boy, Derek continued.
"This is my number. If for any reason you feel uncomfortable at work—whether it's your coworkers, customers, or anyone else trying to hassle you, you let me know. If for some reason you think you recognize the man you saw that night back at the club again, you let me know immediately. If anything bothers you, or you feel something's weird, just call me. I'm serious Spencer, no matter how dumb you may think it is, and whatever time of the day or night, you can call me. Our first priority is to keep you safe, kid. You did a really brave thing by telling us the truth and we don't take that lightly." Derek said, making sure he caught Spencer's eyes so that the message would be drilled home.
Unsurprisingly, Spencer averted his gaze and dropped his eyes down to his hands. He toyed with the card in his hand, reading the words and numbers in silence, and seeming to study them. But after a few moments, and with a sigh, he looked back up at the agent, whose dark eyes seemed to be imploring him to rely on him.
"Ok," Spencer said simply, making proper eye contact for once. "…Thanks."
Derek couldn't contain his grin.
Without another word, Spencer pushed up the lock on his door and stepped out of the car.
Derek watched as the boy disappeared into the dark building, wondering if he would really be ok.

~3:15 a.m.~
Derek groggily rolled over in his hotel room bed as he was jostled out of his sleep by the incessant ringing of his cellphone. Blindly reaching out to the bedside table and grabbing around in search of the phone, Derek's hand finally landed on the object of his current ire.
"Hello?" he asked gruffly as he glanced at the alarm clock.
"U-uh… Agent Morgan?" he heard a soft voice come from the other line.
"This is Morgan," he said, suddenly more awake, and wondering why that voice sounded familiar. "Who's this?"
"Um… it's Spencer… uh, Spencer Reid? From earlier. Um, you said I could call you if anything… 'weird' happened, and I don't know if this is the type of thing you meant, so…" Spencer rambled off.
"Hey, hey. Kid, it's ok. I said you could call me about anything. So, what happened?" Derek asked, sitting up in bed and flicking on the bedside table lamp. He was more than a little surprised to be receiving a call from Spencer. He had assumed the boy would've just tossed the card away as soon as he was out of his eyesight. But something was obviously amiss. The youth's voice contained none of his previous biting sarcasm. He seemed genuinely interested in the agent's help.
"I just got home a little while ago and there was a box outside of my door." Spencer began. "I didn't pay much attention to it and went to take a shower and stuff, but when I finally opened it, there were flowers inside."
"Ok?" Derek asked.
"…and there was a note." Spencer responded. "The note said: 'You were watching me, and now I'll be watching you.'"
Jumping out of his bed, Derek said, "Stay where you are, kid. We're on our way."

A/N: So this story is feeling way more like a crime drama than I ever intended it to! I never thought I'd write a "case fic" and really was just using the Unsub story as a way to develop a relationship between Spencer & Derek. I didn't even think out my killer's M.O. that much until I started writing… But, as of right now, all I seem to be doing is developing the case. I dunno why I find this type of stuff so fascinating (maybe it's because I used to be a criminal law attorney (such a bad life decision, lol), but I find it hard to describe the facts of a case shoddily).
Anywho, from the next chapter on (hopefully) the story will give less focus to the "Judgment Maker" as a character and more on the development of some MoReid. I'm excited about that. Are you? ;)
xoxo
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