Letters - Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Criminal Minds - 3/?
Title: Letters
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dr. Reid writes his mother on a daily basis, telling her of his "adventures," but, after a chance encounter, Buffy Summers accidentally receives one of his letters. Eventual Buffy/Reid
Setting: For BtVS, this is post series; for CM this is season 2 but the prologue was not set during "Fisher King" (in my mind, Dr. Reid decided to visit his mom again after she returned to the sanitarium).
Series: Calling it the Stamps 'verse, which will consist of this story and a few tags in other crossovers, I think.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Criminal Minds. I make no money from this work.
Links: Prologue & Chapter 1 II Chapter 2 II
Chapter 3: Lies We Tell Ourselves
"Reasoning at every step he treads,
Man yet mistakes his way,
Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads,
Are rarely known to stray."
~William Cowper
Buffy had really meant to keep it a secret. She should have known better: "You still there?"
Dawn paused a moment. When her voice returned, the tone was one Buffy recognized well. It was definitely her I-can't-believe-monks-crafted-me-from-your-genes voice, not to be mistaken with the I-can't-believe-you're-the-oldest voice.
"So, you thought it would be a great idea to research your secret crush, who happens to work for the FBI?" Dawn digested the statement: "And, just to review, 'works for the FBI' means he's an actual agent, not an accountant, bookkeeper, secretary…?" She didn't wait for Buffy to continue. "So, an FBI agent. I should be worried, yet he's decidedly more tame that your last few love interests."
"Dawnie." Buffy sighed. "He's not my crush. Or love interest. He's a guy. A friend. Sort of. A guy friend."
"A secret guy-friend with interesting guy parts and an eye-catching weapon at his belt?"
"Dawnie!"
"Okay, okay." Dawn bit down a chuckle. "But seriously, Buffy, why are you keeping him a secret? Willow could have helped you with the research, and Xander could have. . . Well, Xander would probably just interrogate you. Still, it's weird. Are you ashamed of him or something?"
Buffy scoffed into the receiver before stomping back to her bed. It greeted her backside with a comfy hug. "I'm not ashamed of him, Dawnie. There's nothing to be ashamed of. And, yeah, I'm sure I'll hear about it when everyone finds out that I've been all top-secret with a Fed." She sighed, unsure of how to actually spit out an answer. After all, she wasn't really sure what the answer was. "It's just…"
"He's yours," Dawn finished.
Buffy leaned back, relaxing; she could practically hear her little sister nodding. "When did you get all insightful?" Buffy asked, smiling. The smile quickly faded and she sat up straight. "Wait-what did you do to make you all insightful? Are you keeping secrets, Dawn Marie Summers?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Dawn replied, but her voice pitched.
Buffy's eyes widened. "What's that I hear in the background? You're not in your dorm."
"I-uh-Buffy!" Dawn snapped. "Would you quit changing the subject? You're just too embarrassed to talk about your FBI boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend!"
"Is so."
"Is not, Dawn-" Buffy cut off, staring down at cell phone as if it had betrayed her. Soon. Soon she would find out how video chat worked. She lifted the cell to ear again, listening carefully. "Are you in a car? Are you in a guy's car?"
"I'm hanging up on you."
Buffy pouted slightly. "Fine. Leave me all in the dark after I've spilled info on my secret pen-pal. That's fair."
Dawn huffed into the phone but the line didn't disconnect. "Ok, do you want to know what I think?" She immediately interrupted Buffy's coming response. "Nevermind. I'll tell you anyway. I think the reason why you're keeping this guy to yourself is so that you can delay getting him involved in our crazy world. Which is of the good. You want to have a normal friendship with someone who doesn't know you inside and out. But, if you go snooping for dirty laundry on him, well… That sorta takes away the 'getting to know you' portion of the friendship. It's sorta important."
Damn. Buffy hated it when her little sibling played the wisdom card. "What if he turns out to be…you know, evil-ish?"
Dawn mused a moment before replying. "Willow taught me some pretty nifty ways to flag people on the internet, keep track of slayers who might have accidentally made the evening news. Why don't you let me look up this Spencer Reid guy, and if I find anything hinky, or if something suspicious is posted on the web, I'll call you and let you know."
"In other words, you want to snoop."
"Yeah." Dawn giggled. "Who said creepy stalker behavior isn't fun? Plus, it'll save you the icky feeling when you're writing him."
Buffy took a moment, fiddling with the edge of her quilt. "Fine," she muttered. "Listen, I've got to go, Dawnie."
"Big bad?"
Buffy snorted. "Medium-sized bad. Leaving half-masticated dog all over the old downtown area. The juniors are busy on a get-to-know-inner-slayer retreat with Xander. Should be home soon." She swallowed hard. "Goodnight, Dawn. You and car-guy be careful." As an afterthought, she added, "use protection."
Dawn groaned. "I don't know what you're talking about," she repeated, and ended the call.
Buffy smiled to herself before crawling back off of the bed. She gave the computer one last, worried glance before closing it shut. Spencer Reid would have to wait; there was evil to slay.
The lighting cast orange shadows over the small crowd, as glowing and rich as the brew filling most of the glasses being passed and slid and sipped. Music played, indistinct and un-listened to by most of the patrons swaying to its beat. The tables were full, the waiting mass content to move about the open floor, but those there for the release and not the prowl found the chairs more than welcome.
J.J.'s laughter was lost in the sound of the bar's chatter, but the joy showed on her reddened cheeks. Emily didn't spare the woman a glance, instead hiding her face in one hand, lost in the shame kindled by her admittedly terrifying first experience with a boxed home perm as a teen. Penelope, who had been the one to force the tale from the profiler, was still chuckling into the straw of her fruity cocktail. The technical analyst shook her head, forcing down her amusement.
"Priceless," J.J. managed before following Garcia's lead. The giggles drifted away with the change of songs.
"Yeah, yeah," Emily breathed. "Don't you dare pretend you've never chemically burned your hair. . ."
"Noted," Penelope chirped.
Eager to change the subject, Prentiss scanned the crowd. Though officially a "girls' night" the three usually invited most of their team to drinks. She spotted Derek maneuvering past an eager red-headed woman, a cadet who frequented his usual coffee shop if Emily's memory served her correctly, and elbowed Garcia with a roll of her eyes.
"Looks like Morgan's having better luck than us."
Penelope saw him, her lips forming a line when she watched the flirtatious display. She snorted. "Boys will be boys," she muttered, before turning back to the other two women. "Speaking of which, am I going to have to be the one to bring up our mysteriously absent Dr. Reid."
"Mysteriously absent?" Emily echoed. Her dark maroon painted lips curled into a grin. "You mean, Morgan wasn't able to talk him into coming? How did Reid manage to wiggle his way out?"
Penelope smirked, her eyes narrowed sagely as she leaned into the table. "Oh, so you didn't hear?"
J.J. leaned forward as well, subconsciously propping her elbow onto the table to hide her face. "Does this have to do with the way Spence has been acting over the past week or so?"
Garcia shot the distant Morgan a glance, making sure he wasn't watching their table, before nodding. Emily looked from one woman to the other, confused.
"Something wrong with Reid?" Prentiss asked, raising a brow.
"Depends on who you ask," Penelope teased, taking a long draw from her drink. At J.J.'s pleading pout, she continued, "Ok, ok, so here's the thing. A few days ago, I see my delicious chocolate knight…"
"We're talking about Morgan, right?" Emily interrupted.
Penelope ignored her. "And Derek was all a fuss over Spencer, and I quote, 'keeping secrets'. Apparently, Spencer lied when Derek asked him about a few letters he's been carrying. Letters written on purple paper. Scented purple paper."
Prentiss raised a brow. "Wait-you think Reid has a girlfriend?"
Garcia smiled knowingly but shrugged. "Or maybe just a pen-pal of the girly paper using variety. Derek seems to think he's up to something."
A moment of thoughtful silence passed between the three, and they found their narrow gazes once again drawn to Derek's now dancing form.
J.J. shook her head, clearing the fog. "Ok, guys, did we seriously just have a gossip session about Spencer? Our Spencer Reid?"
"Not so much a gossip session as a briefing to update the circle on the state of our youngest," Penelope defended. On a second thought, she chuckled, "We really need to get our own lives, don't we?"
"Definitely," Emily agreed, and threw back a shot.
…I enjoyed receiving your letter as well, Buffy. I can honestly say that I've never been very good at starting conversations with strangers, either. My friend, Derek, has this infallible ability to call women to him with a single flash of his smile. No doubt, even you would fall subject to his charms. He has attempted to teach me his ways, but I'm afraid that women don't respond very well to statistics and Star Trek references. I'm surprised you've lasted this long - not that I consider you in that regard, as one of those women. I'm sorry, I'm getting off subject.
You mentioned your sister Dawn at Stanford. How is she enjoying…
…Ok, Agent I-have-a-fancy-title-job, poke fun at my use of the word "freelance" all you want. For your information, I have held a regular job before, and not just one that left me smelling like fried foods. I was a high school counselor for a short while. In fact I was offered the job, didn't even have to apply. Of course, that wasn't due so much to the handful of classes I took in college as my horrible high school track record. The principal at the time thought I could relate to young people. Obviously, he never asked Dawnie her opinion on the matter…
There was something strange going on. Maybe not quite "musical demon" strange or "bunnies are planning the apocalypse" strange. But strange, nevertheless.
Xander Harris had been called many things in his life, but unobservant wasn't one of them. Wait, scratch that, plenty of women in his life- girlfriends, teachers, Mom - had told him how very unobservant he was, but not when it came to his favorite slayer acting less than slayer like.
And Buffy was acting…odd. Xander recognized this behavior. She was hiding something. And it had to do with what she'd received in the mail. At first, Xander had assumed it involved a certain credit card statement and a pair of boots. But when the bill collectors didn't begin their ritualistic calling, he began to worry. Whatever it was, whatever was going on with her, was a hot topic amongst two of his mini-slayers as well.
"Goofy smiles one minute and woe-is-me the next." Lily pulled her PJ clad legs under her skinny form and tossed back her curling red hair. Her voice was low, even though the subject of the conversation was currently out an a sweep of the city. "And you heard her yesterday, when we touched her ledger?"
"Totally bitchy if we touch her things," Judy agreed, passing the bowl of popcorn to Lily.
Xander stood behind them, leaning onto the back of the couch to pass them two cans of root beer. Though his mouth was open, ready to defend, he decided it best to stay silent a moment longer. In his head, he could hear Willow shaming him for his sneakiness.
Lily licked salt from her lips. "You know what it is, don't you?"
Judy's can popped open with a bubbly roar, spray coating a lock of her brown hair. She slurped up the foam, nodding to the other girl with a knowing look in her eye.
Xander thought his brain might melt out his ears. Listening in on gossip was harder than he'd imagined.
"Her period's all wonky," Judy finally said, throwing her feet onto the ottoman.
Lily snorted. "That's not it!"
No. It wasn't. Xander had a calendar marked for such an occasion. He rocked on the balls of his feet, almost ready to flat out ask, when Lily rolled her eyes.
"She's writing someone," Lily stated, proud of the theory, "and someone's writing her. Someone we don't know. And she's trying to hide it from us."
Xander stilled, his brow wrinkled in confusion as he looked from one slayer to the next. Whatever Judy had to say on the matter disappeared when both sets of eyes realized the commercial break had ended and the recap for their show was rolling across the television screen. The one-eyed carpenter suddenly felt the weariness of his workday on his shoulders. His role as gossip-spy had been a bust. Whatever was up with Buffy didn't have do to with writing letters…He chuckled at the mere idea of Buffy taking the time to write. She hadn't even filled out a Christmas card in, well, ever. Shaking his head, he stepped away from the duo.
Buffy writing letters to some secret pen-pal. Sure. That would happen.
Reid ignored the vibrating of his phone when he saw that it was Morgan calling. Again. Opting, instead, to tap his pen against the parchment paper laid out across his breakfast table. He'd already politely declined Penelope's invitation to "hang out" tonight. And then he'd declined once more after her insistence that "everyone" was coming, Hotch was even bringing Haley by the bar after the babysitter showed up. Reid smiled faintly at the thought of seeing the usually uptight, rigid man laughing with is wife at his side. An odd, too rare occurrence. Garcia had quit calling after she'd been forced to confess that Gideon wouldn't be joining them.
But, apparently, she'd only quieted so that she might sic Derek on the young agent.
As much as Reid enjoyed their company, he was content with his plans for the night, which consisted mainly of finishing a letter.
…Dawn sounds like an intelligent young woman, and you're clearly proud of her. You don't have to explain her past behavior to me, Buffy. I have no place to judge her. Either of you. You clearly care deeply for your sister, and, no, I don't plan on having her arrested for shoplifting a "nifty jacket." Her actions were very typical for someone suffering the loss of a parent, especially at that age. You were probably both going through a very hard time.
When I was child, my father packed up his things and left. I didn't understand why…
Reid let the words trail on for a few moments, before pulling the pen away. He blinked, surprised with what he'd written within the space of a few paragraphs. It was more than he'd told his team, more than he'd ever wanted to say about his parents. Yet, there's been something easy about sharing the information. And the relief it left him with, that cathartic rush, was almost indescribable.
Nevertheless, his hand moved over the paper, ready to wad it into a ball. It was too much. Even for someone he would probably never see again…But Buffy had shared with him, hadn't she? Whether she'd meant to or not, she'd told him so much about her family. About her mother's death.
His fingers wavered before falling flat.
He picked up the pen, jotting down another line:
I was on a case in Nevada again recently, Golconda. It's to state's north, no where near Vegas, but it left me thinking about my last visit to my mother…
It was his none-too-subtle way of bringing up that day again. The day he'd found green eyes staring his way. But it wasn't for the sake of reminiscing.
Over the past few days, Reid had found himself wanting to find out more about Buffy Summers. His curiosity was laced with a fear, distinct and undeniable, of what he might find. He wasn't sure why the urge to know was there, but he knew that his subconscious had a reason for its worry. He'd been taught, when doing his job, to pay attention to fear, study it, understand what exactly it was causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise.
Reid shook his head and moved to jot down a word of conclusion before signing the letter.
Maybe it wasn't Buffy at all. Maybe there was nothing hidden in her past. But Reid knew where the nudging doubt in his mind was coming from: Dana. Buffy had almost completely avoided the subject of Dana when he'd asked a few letters back. Instead, she'd opted to tell him about her sister, Dawn. A half answer: "no, Dana's not my sister." But she hadn't said who Dana was, why she, a woman living in Ohio, had chosen to, on her vacation, visit a sanitarium to see a woman who wasn't a relative.
Reid's laptop sat, booted up, to one side where he'd been finishing up research for a paper. He called up a search engine but his fingers failed him before he even began. He closed the computer down, instead. He'd ask Buffy about Dana again. Next time. When he was thinking clearly.
His phone vibrated against the tabletop, and he reached for it. A text message. Morgan. "Jean and Tim have agreed to stay for a drinking game. Get your ass over here, pretty boy."
Reid snorted. Jean and Tim. When would the couple figure out that they'd never win a game against him when the subject was Star Trek trivia? Perhaps they simply enjoyed the large quantities of liquor they were forced to consume…
Sighing, Reid slipped the letter into its envelope and stood. He could mail it on his way to the bar. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to get out. Socialize with someone who actually lived in the state. Buffy was young, pretty, single. She was probably out doing the same. And she was likely good at it, too.
The thought didn't make him feel better, but he slipped on his jacket, nevertheless.
READ CHAPTER 4