Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

ok honestly, the chapter before this was what i thought would be the last chapter. But then, i thought- there are some loose ends. So one more lengthy lap, :) Some NCIS bits here and supernatural concepts

oo oo oo oo oo

Brand new shoes.

There was something about his brand new shoes that sat well with him. Normally, having a brand new routine, shoes included, threw him off. Human beings are a creature of habit after all and he had his own way to go about his life. Of course, when he almost slipped on a patch of ice he didn't see yesterday, it prompted Summer, who he almost pulled down with him, to examine his shoes.

He earned another expression of disbelief when he pulled up his pant leg. "Slim, you have grandpa shoes."

"They're made out of leather. They keep the water out. My feet stay dry and they're quite comfortable," he had defended.

"There's also no tread in them. And you're only 25," she had pointed out.

"I don't know. I always thought I was an old soul," he had replied, grinning at his old brown "grandpa" shoes.

He had heard Summer snicker like he expected her to. "Old sole," she had said, rolling her eyes.

They had gone to a store and bought a pair of sneakers. Chuck Taylors. And they were actually quite comfortable. He liked them a lot. The design hasn't changed since 1917 which prompted his friend to make a pun about new, old soles for the new old soul.

Poetic really.

But poetry had nothing to do about going to work in them. They might be leather on top but they were still sneakers.

Unfortunately, when he woke up this morning, he found Summer already up and dressed, studying her book on his sofa. He didn't think anything about it at first, after all, she was falling behind on those readings. But when he was about to leave, he found that his shoes were not where he had left them and in its place were the new sneakers.

She had hidden them!

"Way I see it," she had said, grinning like a maniac, "It's either you go find your shoes, risk slipping on ice and break a bone, and be super late for work. Or you wear the Chucks, not slip, and be on time."

"You're suppose to be my friend!"

She just raised her mug of coffee his way and gave him a cheeky smiled. "I am."

So he adjusted the strap of his bag and took a deep breath before stepping out of the elevator. Several agents greeted him as he made his way to the glass doors of the BAU. "Here goes nothing," he told himself, steeling his nerves as he pushed the doors, hoping nobody would notice that he wasn't in work appropriate shoes, and beelined for the coffee machine.

He pressed his lips and gave the man who was already there a tight smile. Derek Morgan. Why did it have to be him? He notices everything! And it was just his luck that Morgan eyed him from head to toe before he even had the chance to get his mug. "Well well, look it. Dr. Spencer Reid graces us with his presence," Morgan greeted with a big, almost relieved smile. "How did your leave days go?"

"I think I had taken something that didn't agree with me so it wasn't very pretty for a few days. I felt much better Saturday though," he answered noncommittally as he filled his mug with the dark liquid. "I sent you a text. Didn't you get it?"

"Oh no, kid. I got your text," Morgan replied. "But then, you've never sent a text before so you can see how we found it kind of weird."

"At least someone finally brought you to the 21st century," a voice behind him commented. Emily Prentiss came, empty mug in hand. "Oh!" she exclaimed, pausing two feet away. "New shoes and texting," she noticed.

Spencer could feel his cheeks warm with all the attention. He tried to act casual, mixing the sugar in with his coffee. "I couldn't find my normal shoes this morning," he defended.

Morgan nodded approvingly. "Must be some weekend to lose your shoes," he prodded.

"Actually it was!" Spencer grinned. He just thought of exactly what to tell them. "I bought new bookshelves from this store in Georgetown. They carry ones that go from floor to ceiling. I have so much storage space now it's making me want to buy new books to fill it up. And, most importantly, they deliver and build it for you for no extra cost," he related. He could see their eyebrows shoot up like they always do when they wanted to say, Is he for real? They were losing interest. It was working.

So he cleared his throat and readied the closer. "Then, my friend introduced me to this space western called Firefly. It's about this rag tag group of drifters who eventually discovers a government conspiracy concerning-"

"So it was a good weekend then," Morgan interjected, before he could say anything further.

Spencer tried not to smile when they reacted just like he thought they would. Anytime he starts talking about anything science fiction, more often then not, they shut down. "Yes it was," he answered, moving towards his desk victoriously.

"Reid!"

He turned around at the person who called. Jason Gideon was leaning on the railings on the landing infront of his office. Oh yes, he was in trouble now. He was going to ask him to change out of his comfy sneakers for sure. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

"Nice shoes," Gideon said before disappearing.

Spencer sat on his chair, unable to keep the smile off his face despite the tower of files on his desk. Yep, these shoes sat well him. Almost as good as his mismatched socks.

oo oooo oo o o o o o

Summer McKenzie sighed while waiting in line for coffee.

Who knew that after three days of hell she was going to have three days of fun? A Firefly/ Serenity marathon ensued Saturday night. Spencer was fine enough that she slept on the couch. They bought bookshelves and shoes and walked around Sunday. Then a Jenga tournament, which in hindsight, she won unfairly because he still had the shakes. Hiding his old shoes was fun too. Then today, Monday, she had brunch in Georgetown with some archaeologists and linguists she used to see in dig sites, but has since grown older and now teach in the University. Brunch became a bit of work after, when Dr. Kelly said he wanted to show her some of his new discoveries. Interesting enough, she now knew where she was going on her next school break- Dr. Sophia invited her on a dig in Sudan.

Awesome.

Today had been a productive day for sure, but she was still behind on her readings. And since all she needed to do now was wait for Spencer to get some dinner and take her to the airport, she decided to catch up with her studies in a comfortable cafe. Coffee and walls of text was all she had to look forward to until Spencer called. And she got through them just fine until she one chapter talked about mental illnesses.

Schizophrenia.

Which made her think about Diana Reid.

Which then, made her think about Spencer Reid.

And that Hankel case he confessed to.

It took a lot for him to tell him that story. Hell, it took a lot for him to ask for help. Spencer was the type to bottle things up, and act like everything's peachy even if it wasn't. She knew him enough to know that he downplayed what really happened by using less charged words like 'restricted my movement' instead of 'tied me up on a chair' and 'hit me' instead of 'tortured me'. Even then it sounded horrifying.

And it explained everything.

He wanted to forget and she couldn't blame him.

Charles Hankel started a chain of destruction and it just snowballed from there. There's simply no possibility for a happy ending in that story. Nobody the Hankels touched was going to leave unscathed. Spencer most of all, having to live through it first hand.

Human beings, she thought shaking her head, sometimes we're worse than the monsters.

Which reminded her that she had to make a few calls. A nagging voice in her head was telling her to make sure those Hankels were cremated. Maybe season them with salt before they roast too, if possible. Maybe even the property. For good measure. Can't have their vengeful spirits continue their M.O. From the grave. That would be terrible— more people would suffer the same way Spencer did.

And nobody can arrest a ghost.

She couldn't have that.

She wouldn't wish that on her worst enemy.

She sighed again, sitting back down on her little nook but unable to read anymore course material. It bothered her everytime she thought about it. Yes, Spencer was out of the drugs, and she was confident that this was a guy who is not going to relapse. Yes, Spencer knew he can always call her if there's anything at all he wanted to talk about- she made him promise and he's never broken a promise before. And yes, she made sure he knew that if he needed her, she'd stop everything and come running from the other coast- not that he'd do it often. The guy hated to impose.

It was the big picture that annoyed her. It was the big picture she couldn't do anything about.

The chapter she just read about schizophrenia worried her. The possibility that Spencer inherits his mother's schizophrenia already existed. But the drug use, no matter how brief, and his stressful job increased his risks of triggering an event. And she knew that he was so terribly scared of it. She was scared for him as well.

But it's not like she can ask him to quit nor will he listen. He loves being an FBI agent. He loves the BAU. And it was against her personal beliefs to tell a person what he or she should do with her life. God knows that she's cut off a lot of people from hers because they wouldn't let go of doing just that. It's childish, she knew, but she's determined to do whatever she wants. And by doing so, she had to allow other people to do the same.

But it doesn't mean it doesn't worry her.

What's worse is that he probably wouldn't forget this for the rest of his life. She wish there could be a drug to erase just that part of his brain but there wasn't. He was born with an eidetic memory. There's nothing she can do about it.

There has to be a better way to go about this than just being there for support, she thought frowning. There's got to be a way to stop the fall.

"Would you look at that, Duck. Little Sinatra comes to town and she doesn't even tell us," a familiar voice said, breaking he thoughts.

"Now, Jethro, I'm sure she has her reasons. Don't you, dear?" a pair eyes teased from behind his glasses.

Summer lifted her gaze, surprised to see two older men she hasn't seen since God knows when, expecting her to reply. A tall lithe ex marine raised an eyebrow at her while a Scottish medical examiner just looked on with patience. Oh yes, she knew those looks. There was no getting rid of them. She grinned, slamming her book shut, and standing to greet them. "I've forgotten that you guys come here," she said, mentally slapping herself. "What am I saying? Of course you do. You're the one who brought me to this coffee shop the first time."

"Glad to see your memory is up to snuff," the old gunnery sergeant replied, taking a seat, across her. "What brings you to D.C. Summer Wind McKenzie? Aren't you suppose to be in med school?"

The small cocky pauses between pronouncing her name made her smirk. Nope, nothing's changed with this one. "Are you keeping tabs on me, Gunny?" she asked, amused.

"Are you not answering my question, Sinatra?" he shot back.

"Summer, dear, I think I speak for both of us when I say that we're just concerned that it is the middle of a school semester and you are not in school as you should be," the examiner said. "That being said, be honest with us. Are you in any trouble?" he inquired.

"Oh come on Ducky, you know me," she replied with a shrug.

The ex marine calmly placed his drink on the table. "Precisely."

She chuckled. "Relax, man. A friend of mine fell sick, that's it." She saw the testing look of uncertainty from the two gentlemen. "Oh come on, I know better than to lie to you people."

"You better not be."

"Psh. You know I'm not. "

"When are you leaving?"

"Tonight."

"Need a ride?"

"No thanks. I got one. You're not the only people I know around here, you know." She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "Gee, Gunny, if I were a lesser person, I'd think you're trying to get me out of your town asap," she baited.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," the older man teased, with a small smile of his own.

The Scot sighed. "The way you two show your concern and affection-" he shook his head.

"It's his fault," she automatically replied, pointing at the marine, who just rolled his eyes. "So, Gunny. How many ships have you made since I saw you last?" she asked, casually. The guy gave her a snort. This was going to be interesting.

It wasn't the solution she was looking for but it was good distraction from her own spiraling thoughts.

ooo ooo ooo oo oo oo

"Summer."

"Hm?"

"You've been quiet."

Spencer saw the girl turn to look at him. "Have I?" she asked, not even realizing that she has been lost in her own thoughts.

Spencer found her in the cafe, where she said she would be. She was with two older gentlemen , both could've passed for her father.

One of them, back straight, salt and pepper hair, had that look about him. Organized. Systematic. No nonsense. Military- or at least ex military.. Every minute he would scan the room. He looked relaxed enough that Spencer knew he wasn't afraid to be spotted- more like he was looking out for potential danger. By the way the man carried himself, the profiler was sure that the man was still in law enforcement. By the lack of uniform, he'd wager that he was a federal agent.

The other man, more elderly, a kinder face seemed to be less rigid. Spencer guessed he could be a professor or a doctor of some kind. A colleague maybe of mister agent man.

It was weird to watch them even for a second. Summer talked about the academics she grew up with all the time. The people she met at dig sites growing up, who she previously worked for as a researcher, the people who use to hire her for the summer to meet them somewhere in the world where artifacts are being unearthed even if she didn't have a degree in the field- she mentioned them all. These were the stories she told him everytime they met.

These people. Military. She never mentioned. Maybe they were her dad's contacts? Her father was ex British special forces.

They all were having a good laugh in the corner of the cafe. And when, Summer lifted her gaze to wipe a tear from her eye, he gave her a small wave. Her smile grew wider, if that was even possible, and she started to collect her books from the table and dumping it into her duffel bag.

Spencer had felt the eyes of the two gentleman pass over him like they were trying to judge his character right then and there. He had shifted his weight, uncomfortable being under their observation. The law enforcement man's stare could probably give Hotch a run for his money.

He watched her say her goodbyes. A hug to the older kinder looking man. The stern one gave her several claps on the shoulder when she moved for an embrace. She was about to leave, but for some reason, the stern one held her back. They had a small conversation, involving a pamphlet being passed from the on man to another, then being handed to Summer.

Spencer could remember her reaction when she read the paper. A combination of wonder and worry fell into her features. She tried to show them that she was otherwise unaffected by they knew and he knew that it simply wasn't the case. She shoved it inside her jacket's breast pocket.

And she's been quiet ever since. It was enough to worry him. Something happened there in that brief exchange that brought her mood down. He found that he didn't like it- not one bit.

"You've been quiet since we left the cafe," he said, watching a plane take off in the distance. She was going to be in one of those planes soon.

"No, nothing's wrong. I'm..." She shrugged, giving him a small playful nudge. "I'm just worried about you that's all," she replied, a small wistful smile on her face. "I'm just … I don't know." She shrugged and leaned back on her seat.

"Summer," Spencer urged.

She stared at him for a second before very reluctantly getting the pamphlet that was given to her from her pocket. "Gunny gave me this," she said, handing it to him. "I didn't tell him anything, I promise. He's famous for having an infamous gut," she added quickly in her defense.

He looked the pamphlet over in surprise. Bright blue with red and white ribbons running through it, it was for The Beltway Clean Cops- a substance abuse support group for law enforcement agencies. If she didn't say anything, how in the world did the other agent know. They've never met. He's never seen him in his life. "...An infamous gut?" he asked instead.

She nodded, soberly. "Gut feel. Instinct. He's famous for it. You can ask anyone in the Navy Yard," she explained. "I promise. I didn't say anything. He asked what I was doing in D.C. In the middle of a school term and I told him that a friend fell ill. I didn't even tell him a name," she continued. "He just took one look at you. And I don't know... he just knew. And Ducky always has random things in his bag... No wonder he drives his boss batty." She sighed again. "Actually, the Beltway does sound like a good program. They're all cops. They can relate you know... You're not mad at me are you, Slim?" she inquired tentatively.

Spencer lifted his eyes from the pamphlet and shot her a confused expression. "Why would I be mad at you if you didn't say a thing?" he answered. He saw the immediate change in her demeanor. Her mood seemed... a bit brighter.

"Really?" she asked, hopeful.

"This is like the time you came around with a broken arm and you wouldn't get out of the car because you thought I'd be angry at you for not being able to play. If you say you didn't say anything, I believe you," he replied, offering her a small smile. "You're being silly again."

He saw her mood brighten considerably, much to his relief. It's like a pendulum swung the other way. "Are you profiling me?" she asked, grinning.

Spencer snorted. "Sometimes, I swear you're bi polar," he offered, gamely.

"Sometimes? What's this? No statistic?"

"I haven't gone around to charting you out yet. Next time, you should stay much longer so that we can plot you out on an axis over a period of time. Proper diagnosis can only come from proper observations," he answered.

"Yeah? How long are we talking about?"

The question was casual enough but Spencer looked away from her curious blue eyes unable to answer. How many times before, when they left California a few weeks after she takes her exam, did he wish that the McKenzies just stay forever? But he knew Summer. She was downright intent on living her life her own way- like her father. If he asks, with the situation the way it is right now, he knew she'd stop everything and move. Who was he to ask her to do something so big? He can't possibly ask her to put her life on hold.

He saw another plane depart, one more plane gone meant that she'd have to board hers soon.

He felt her hand rub circles on his back. "You know," she started, "I don't move around the world as often as I used to."

"I know."

" Like, I'm not in Spain one month and be in Thailand two months after."

"I know you're not."

There goes another plane.

"I'm just in the west coast," she continued on, breezily.

Spencer smiled, amused, knowing she's not about to stop. "Four hours by plane. Less than two days if I drive. You can call and they won't even charge you an international fee," she went on.

Still too far., though. "I know," he answered softly.

"I know that you know," she said. "But I also know that sometimes people need to hear it."

Her flight to SeaTac was called out. Spencer felt a knot form in his throat when they both stood. She gathered her things. "That's me," she said, turning around to give him a small hug.

Spencer found himself returning the embrace. He closed his eyes for a moment as she held him tighter. "I'll be fine," he promised her before she gave him a small peck on the cheek and stepped away.

She grinned. "I know you will, Slim. But you call, anyway."

The last call for her flight rang through the airport.

"See you later, Slim," she said, tossing her bag over her shoulder, moving towards the security line.

Spencer watched her give him a small wink before she disappeared behind the throngs of people gathered for a security check. He pressed his lips into a thin line. Her family never says goodbye but it always feels like it for him. "See you later, Summer," he whispered after her.

And just like that, he was alone again.

Spencer stayed until he saw her boarding gate close and the plane started moving backwards. Time to go back, he thought, No use being here anymore. And so with one last nod to the plane his friend was in, he took a deep breath and made his way towards the exit. He barely made it out of the automatic doors when his phone started ringing. "Please don't let this be work," he grumbled, fishing the phone out of his coat pocket.

Much to his surprise, it wasn't anybody from the BAU calling. In fact, it was a text. He couldn't help but let out a wry smile when he read it.

"Slim, your shoes are under the couch ;)"