Blunder ‡ Spencer Reid

sleepless, hopeless

| scarves and chocolate hair |

He sat in a lumpy sofa at the café down his street, reading Shakespeare's Othello for the third time that morning. The first signs of light can be seen from the window and Spencer finally put down his book, heaving a deep sigh. He was there since early dawn, wide awake when most were asleep.

The person at the counter grinned a sleepy smile at him, and gave him his usual cup of coffee. He settled at the shop, and felt more at peace there than at his home. His apartment held no reassurance; it only brought eeriness. He prayed for rest, but his eyes only saw flocks of sheep. Books and coffee were his friends, and he found comfort in those things.

A week passed without any cases at all, only piles and piles of paperwork. He needed a case, and when Spencer's phone rung at 3 am, he was running out the café faster than a cheetah (metaphorically, of course).

"I'll be there in five," he muttered on the phone. He was already driving back to his apartment to grab his go-bag.

"Yes, Reid. Be at the conference room in 20," Aaron said, hanging up.

He was the first one at the room. He sat down on his usual chair, spinning a pen in between fingers. His mind was already on the case, despite the lack of information. Statistics and numbers flew madly inside his head, already thinking of their past cases that might be somehow related to the new one.

Apparently, not. The rest of the team arrived 10 minutes after him, all of them looking more grave than usual. They hurried into the conference room, not one of them speaking.

Morgan looked royally-pissed off, JJ more stressed than usual, Emily had a deep frown and both Rossi and Hotch seemed grumpy enough to kill.

Who could blame them? They were enjoying the rare peaceful week-as peaceful as their jobs can get. The team looked like they would rather be doing anything but a case. Except for him, that is.

Garcia entered the room, her heels mercifully silenced by the carpeted floor. She still wore her bright dress and colorful hair ties, but she had a heavy smile on her face in place of the her usual beam.

"Get your coats ready, my darling babies. You're going to Vegas!" her tone didn't quite match the enthusiastic words of greeting. "This case is not quite the same with any of our past ones."

She clicked a few buttons on her remote, and photographs from the crime scene popped up in the screen and their tablets. JJ passed manila folders, and the team scanned over it quickly.

"Yesterday evening, a woman reported a dead body in an alley way. It was pretty much deserted, and the crime scene was eerily weird," Penelope stated.

"Was the person identified? What's the cause of death?" Reid asked immediately, his brows furrowed together. He traced a finger over the file, stopping at the empty line where the victim's information should have been.

"There was no ID on the victim. The COD from the reports was loss of blood from a punctured vein, a deep vertical cut on his right forearm." A picture of the victim popped up on the screen. He was laying down too straight for an attacked person to be.

He was posed like that, Spencer mused. The slit started from the wrist and ended at the crook of the elbow. The unsub didn't need to have extensive medical knowledge to know that cutting vertically was fatal, but the cut was abnormally straight for an amateur to do.

"Was there any fingerprints? A strand of hair or anything from the unsub?" Emily inquired, looking straight at the tv screen. Spencer doubted that there was, as the photos of the crime scene looked almost too clean and meticulous.