Angel [spencer reid x reader] ✔

𝟹.

short chapter before i head to work!

"Jason Brown and Ben Meyers."

"They're half-brothers, both of them devoted to the church," Y/n says, twiddling with her fingers, glancing at the team.

"Yeah, and it looks like they really disliked their birth mom," Garcia says over the phone. Spencer can hear the little click of her keyboard. "She was a...sex worker, and I guess her sons didn't particularly like that she did that."

"It's a sin," Spencer mutters. "They don't like sins."

"She had brown hair, Garcia?" Tara asks, placing her palms flat on the table.

"That she did," Garcia replies. "She...oh, she died a few weeks ago."

"She must be the surrogate."

"Do you have an address?" Prentiss asks. Garcia gives Prentiss the address, and she looks at the team. "Luke, JJ, Tara, Rossi, you're with me. Reid and Y/l/n, stay here."

Spencer nods, leaning back in his seat as he watches the team file out. Y/n chews on her bottom lip, sighing as she sits back in her chair.

"Sometimes I hate not being able to catch the bad guy," she mutters, looking down at the table.

Spencer cracks a smile. "The waiting is frustrating, I know." He exhales, leaning forward to place his forearms on his thighs. "I've been doing this job for...fifteen years, almost, and it never gets less frustrating."

"How do you it?" She asks, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "Do this job for that long?"

Spencer scrunches his brows. "I...can't imagine myself doing something else."

"Doesn't it get hard? Seeing all the violence?" She plays with her fingers, and Spencer watches her bite the inside of her cheek.

"I got used to it," he whispers. He watches her eyes flick back up to his before her phone rings in her pocket. She pulls it out, glancing down at the caller ID before standing.

"Excuse me for just a second."

She holds the phone up to her ear as she walks out of the room, and Spencer's eyes follow her until he can't see her anymore. Her phone is always ringing—and that strikes Spencer as odd.

They've been working this case non-stop, trying to find the most recent victim. Spencer's barely slept—he feels like he's living off shitty police station coffee and vending machine snacks. Hopefully, Prentiss and the others can catch the unsubs. He'd love to be able to close this case and go home.

He looks up as Y/n walks back into the room, her eyes glued to the floor, her phone back in her pocket. Spencer scrunches his brows together as he watches her sit back in her seat, tugging her sleeves over her hands. She doesn't look like she's been crying like before, back at the dump site. But she looks...sad.