A/N: I suggest you play the song when Spencer parks in front of your apartment :)
You slightly angled your head to his, Spencer's face blurry when you faced him. You saw his mouth move again, but you don't make out what he was saying. A ringing sound roared in your hearing as your knees gave out. Shadowy spots gradually clouded your vision.
Then, darkness.
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"It's an excellent thing that you don't have any resemblance to your whore of a mother," barbed by a woman leaning in your father's car parked in front of your new home.
Glancing at the woman, you approached her with your fist in a ball. Slightly leaning your face closer to hers, staring her down. You snorted, "What the fuck did you just say?"
A sly expression appears on her face. She smirked, "Oh, feisty. Got that from your father."
"Do I know you?"
"That son of a bitch didn't even introduce me?" She scoffed.
"Nope."
"Well, I'm your Aunt Misty. Let's get going, shall we?" She suggested as she trailed up to the front door of your home.
As you regain consciousness, your eyes slowly open at the shape of Spencer above you, "Y/N?"
"Where am I?" you asked, rising unsteadily to sit upright, and feeling a throbbing pain in your head.
"Outside of the Smithsonian."
Spencer stopped you as you tried to stand up, "I don't think that's a great idea. To reduce the chances of you fainting again, you shouldn't stand too quickly."
"Spencer, don't treat me like a baby," you muttered. Spencer offered his help when you stood up on your own. You didn't accept it, causing him to catch you as you lost your sense of balance.
"Told you," Spencer declared, confirming his point.
"Okay, smarty," you scowled, forgetting that Spencer is a genius and wants to be correct all the time.
"It's better if you should just rest."
The sharp, stabbing agony in your heart came back as he told that. Uncertain if which caused you further pain, the sight of Michelle or Spencer's concern. Spencer was right, though. Your head fucking hurts. You needed to rest.
Shooting your best fake grin, a grin Spencer would easily give into. You replied, "Spencer, we're already here."
"You don't have to pretend. I'm a profiler, Y/N. I'm assuming you're having the worst headache you've experienced," His voice was stern, not wanting to argue with you. Unfortunately, he was right. His tone has made an awful realization in your mind, something you didn't want to consider.
