The Best of Kansas

No One Together

Spencer Reid didn't need an eidetic memory to identify the man behind the counter as Sam Winchester. He didn't need to be a genius to know Sam was going by Keith for a reason. He didn't need to be a profiler to see that Sam was in a very bad, very dark place.

Given that Spencer Reid was a genius profiler with an eidetic memory, Sam's miserable state was painfully apparent.

"Keith, how about a Coke for an old friend?"

Sam looked up in surprise as Spencer sat down at the bar and slid a five over.

Spencer offered a weak smile. "Just a Coke. That, and some company when you get off." He shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, if you want to. You don't have to. Just... I've had a rough couple of weeks, and I could use a friend."

While his statements were true, Spencer had no intention of seeking comfort from Sam. However, he knew Sam wouldn't willingly open up about his problems, and that meant a little manipulation was in order.

It hadn't taken Spencer long at all to peg Sam as the martyr type—someone with a 'burden complex' for lack of a better term—but Sam would help someone in need, especially if he identified with them. Spencer could turn the conversation around once Sam was hooked.

"Uh, yeah." Sam looked at the clock on the wall. "I get off in half an hour. You mind waiting?"

Spencer gave him a weak, almost bitter smile. "Not if you don't mind refilling this Coke every five minutes."

Sam returned the smile, and while his was brighter, it didn't go all the way to his eyes. "You got it, man."

So, Spencer sat and waited. He watched Sam move through the bar and restaurant, bussing tables, serving drinks, doing essentially anything that was asked of him without complaint. Dean was nowhere in sight, and Sam wasn't checking his phone. He didn't even appear to have a phone on him.

Spencer looked down at his own phone. No one to text. He sipped his Coke. They must have split up. Question is, for how long? Did one run from the other, or was it mutual?

Spencer almost thought the answer would be 'neither.'

Because Sam smiled and acted appropriately when someone interacted with him—customer or coworker, it didn't matter—but when he thought no one was watching, his face would change. It was an expression Spencer was very familiar with, as he had both seen and worn it many times. He could read the shame and the guilt and the slow but steady collapse under a weight that couldn't be defined or lessened, and it made Spencer think Sam might have been kicked out.

I didn't think Dean was capable of that. But Spencer didn't really know the man. Then again, he didn't really know Sam. Then again, Spencer and Sam were the same, while Spencer and Dean were not. Then again, maybe it would be best to just wait and ask Sam when his shift was over.

I mean, what else am I going to do?

He wasn't going to text Morgan, afraid he would disturb the precious few hours of sleep a new dad was actually able to get. He couldn't text Hotch, or whoever Hotch was legally pretending to be, for obvious reasons. JJ, with her two little boys and full-time job, well... he didn't want to bother her. He thought about texting Emily, but Hotch's disappearance had forced a lot of past grievances to the surface, and there was a flicker of anger in his chest he thought he had long ago extinguished. He couldn't call his mother... couldn't hear her voice, or see her smile, or feel her hands, or smell her faint perfume, or... ever again.

Spencer sniffed hard and shook the thoughts away.

SMS: Garcia... you awake?

Spencer sipped his Coke and glanced around, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. Must be in the back. He glanced at the clock. Only twenty minutes left. His phone buzzed.