Spencer's Youngest Brother
Disclaimer: This would be an episode if I could make it happen. Sadly, Spencer Reid or any of the other characters don't belong to me.
Warning: possible self-mutilation, mention of death, profane language, and gory scenes; Rated M for a reason.
Quick Note: Don't know a lot bout Psychology nor am I an expert at Criminology. Might be some ooc-ness, but I'll try to keep to their character as best as I can. Thanks!
Summary: When the BAU team is called out to Huntington, Indiana, to work a case involving gruesome killings, they find a few new things about their favorite and youngest team member, Dr. Spencer Reid.
Chapter 1: Surprise Reunion!
Spencer Reid's POV
I sit on the plane heading off for Indiana listening to J.J. going over the file for the second time. For some reason, I get this feeling that this particular case is going to get quite out of hand. I'm hoping that I'm wrong about this case though. Despite my genius IQ, I guess there are other things that Morgan likes to bother me about. One of those things is girls; like now. When did J.J.'s re-briefing end?
"Hey, kid, I saw this real hot chick at the theater over the weekend. She's real smart; has an attitude though. I was thinking, since I know her sister, I could-"
"Morgan… how many times do I have to tell you? I can find dates on my own. I don't need you to play match-maker," I half-groan, half-sulk. He laughs at this and goes on to say something, but J.J. interrupts.
"Play nice, boys; don't make me ground you." Morgan and I put on mock expressions of worry and he completes it with, "But, he started it," and points at me where I shake my head. Meanwhile, Hotch comes along and knocks both of us across the head.
"I'll be damned if you two start playing the blame game again." He says it all serious, but we know he's laughing on the inside. Well, at least I know-I think.
Morgan puts his MP3 player back on and listens to it while I look out the window. Suddenly, a thought occurs to me: Doesn't my kid brother live in Huntington, Indiana? Before I can get any further on that thought the plane starts to land. I guess I'll just have to find out.
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Carter Reid's POV
"…and today on the news, the police have released information concerning the Huntington Field Killer who has been dumping bodies near the Wabash river and if anyone has any-" I turn off the T.V. and sigh with frustration as I try to figure out my last Trig problem for my math homework. They've been going on about the "Huntington Field Killer" for little more then two months and, quite frankly, I find it annoying. What a name for such a vicious killer; they almost make the guy or it seem so harmless.
I guess it doesn't matter because the reason why I truly know how dangerous the killer is because the police brought me in to ask me a few questions about my reason for walking on the river bank, in the middle of the night, with a standard hunting knife. I told them again and again that I don't know how or why I was out so late on a school night and about the fact that I don't recall having been walking in the first place. Of course, they being the bastards that they are wouldn't let me off the hook so easily. This only caused a misunderstanding among my peers, in Huntington South High, which made a disturbing rumor run around the whole school.
Also, thanks to those damn bastards, neither of my friends nor my peers will look at me and they will only mutter things under their breath when I walk by. Of course, this doesn't bother me at all, but it's as annoying as all hell gets out. That's also the reason why I'm under the threat of being expulsed; my temper had got the better of me and had caused a fight last week between me and Jane Hue, who hates my guts as much as I hate him. Not only this, but also due to my recent obsession over death, murder, and violence; stupid right?
They also want to send me to some damn shrink guy for an evaluation and I told the assistant principle, point blank, "Fuck no, bastard; I don't fucking need a shrink that's more messed up than I am because I'm almost eighteen and there's not a single fucking shit you can do about it." Thus, I got detention for a week with him and a warning that he can and will expel me for the year if I cause more problems. This is why I'm behaving myself by staying out of trouble and doing all my work without complaint; there's no way in hell I'll mess my chances of going to college, and spend an extra year in my junior class, just because of some 'attitude issues'.
Another thing that has been bothering me recently is the fact that I have this nagging feeling something- or someone- is gonna come in and cause me more issues. I need another coke.
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Spencer's POV
As we finally reach the Huntington PD I notice two things that seem off about the prescient; 1) only seven detectives are in this area of the PD and, 2) several suspects are leaning against walls or knocking against iron bars-holding cells, if I recall correctly. Neither of these two problems is bothering me as much as the fact that I see someone who looks semi-familiar; someone who looks like my kid brother.
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Carter's POV
I don't how nor do I know where, but cops started storming my home. They asked if my parents were home and I said, "Hell no; why should they be?" I guess it was my attitude that got me dragged down to the PD because I can't think of anything else I've done to make them arrest me. So, when I look over to see the lead detective, I see my older brother looking at me in confusion; Spencer Reid…genius of the century; me, Carter Reid…kick-ass, sarcastic teen of the decade. Two completely different people tied by blood alone. Won't this be interesting?
"Alright, kid, get movin'. We aint got all day now," the co-head detective says and I sneer at him and shake the cuffs teasingly.
"I'm not going anywhere, bastard," I reply and watch Spence wince making me smirk. "Not until your damn grammar's fixed. Get it right, fucking son of a-"Before I get the chance to finish I feel a shove, hear a door close, reopen, and close again. Knowing where I am, I say, spitefully, "I want a lawyer; a good one too- not one of those cheap-ass half-witted, cocky ones you guys have either." Then, I stay silent smiling to myself with glee.
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Spencer's POV
I blink a few times behind the window and look towards Hotch who rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. From the time we got here to the time it takes the lead detective to give us the recent file of him is at least three hours. Three hours of nothing but watching the silent teen being questioned and never once speaking; unless cursing and saying, "I want my fucking lawyer" count. Hotch finally gives up and goes in telling the detectives to get out for a while.
"So, what's your name?" He asks; always start with a simple question. Is this even needed?
"Go. To. Fucking. Hell. You. Son. Of. A. Bitch." I watch my kid brother say spitefully and note how he rolls his eyes and says, "I want my lawyer. Now. Please." I finally opt to go in wondering why I ever thought leaving Carter to the social workers was such a brilliant idea. Was he abused?
"Okay, let's try this again. I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. You can call me Aaron or Hotch if you prefer." Again, my kid brother just rolls his eyes.
"Alright. So, you're a fed, like my brother and I bet you anything you work with the BAU, like my brother. What do you want with me?"
"The recent killings. Mind telling me what your name is?"
"Nope. Chase Carter; but you can call me CC if you want."
"Which do you prefer?"
"What about you?"
"Hotch."
"Chase." I watch as Hotch nods at this. He glances at the window and I take that as my cue to go in. Doing so, I take note of the sudden surprise on my kid brother's face. It seems like he's never seen me his entire life until now…why did I leave him?
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Carter's POV
I keep playing 'asshole' with this fed dude until I see my older brother come in. Showing no resignation, however, I go on to say, "Are you the damn shrink? Maybe my much appreciated lawyer? On second thought, you're Dr. Spencer Reid my genius brother who left me to the damn psychos in the social worker offices." I watch with glee as I see my older brother wince. He hasn't been such a high standing figure in my life nor is that going to change anytime soon.
"Carter, your name's Carter Reid; my kid brother," he says quietly taking a seat beside the shocked fed dude-excuse me, Hotch. I sigh pretending to be upset.
"Why the hell do you give a damn?" Again, he winces and I lean back in the chair and go to cross my arms across my chest but suddenly remember I'm cuffed. Damn cops; why do they hate me anyway?
"Why did you lie about your name?" Hotch asks and I shrug my shoulders.
"You're the profiler; you tell me."
"You'd rather be anonymous, right?"
"Wrong; I'd rather not be here and go home to sleep. Did you know I have a test tomorrow in Chemistry; the class I'm failing?"
"You changed the subject; why?" I hear Spence ask and break my well-built walls for a while.
"Do you really think I care whether you view me as guilty or innocent? Quite frankly, the reporters gave the guy a dumb name and I bet you anything he's pissed and looking for blood. You know what they named him?" Before either of them could answer I say, "The Huntington Field Killer; the dumbest name ever since 'boney loon'."
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Spence's POV
As Hotch does most of the questioning I notice how my kid brother gets calmer and calmer as the interrogation goes on. I also notice how my kid brother keeps changing the subject from him to things around him. What could this mean? Then, I get baffled when he tells us he doesn't care whether he's guilty or innocent; he just wants to go home and sleep.
"'The Huntington Field Killer'; the dumbest name ever since 'Boney Loon'," he says off-handedly and shows no sign of caring if we're listening to him or not. Why is he so bitter towards everything around him; how did he get to be this way? I think if I can- or if he wants- I'll take him home with me. I feel terrible for leaving him by himself when he probably needed me the most in his life; whenever that was. Then again, he might still need me now. Ultimately, it's his choice...I just hope he doesn't hate me.
"So, Carter, why are you so upset about the names the media gives these killers?" Hotch asks the teen and he shrugs his shoulders.
"I guess it's just the fact that they're looking for respect and no one cares to give them any." That's an interesting reply. Is he the killer himself? I shouldn't even be questioning my brother in the first place. How can I remain objective now?
"How do you know that they're looking for respect, Cater?" I ask and again he shrugs his shoulders carelessly. Well, I can get through this by treating him normally; like I don't even know him. Actually, that's easier then saying I do because I really don't know him at all; minus the superficial things.
"I would pin it on how shitty their lives are. I mean, the only logical reason serial killers kill so much is because they want attention; not negative, necessarily, but respective. Think about it. How do you think they grew up to be that way in the first place? Aren't nine times out of ten serial killers more likely to have been abused and lost their self-worth? It's kinda sad when you think about it, right?" I guess it's a good thing that he's talking now. I still don't understand if he's hiding something or just talking because he can. Also, how has he become such an expert at profiling?
"Heh," we look at him with curiosity. "Can I go now? I want to sleep so I can try to pass my Chem. test tomorrow." Before either of us can say anything, the head detective comes in and glares at my kid brother.
"Listen brat, just because you're almost eighteen doesn't give you the right to up and leave." I'm about to stand up and defend my brother, but something tells me to stay here and not interfere.
"Listen donut, just because I'm not eighteen yet doesn't give you the right to say I don't know my own rights. If you have nothing legit on me-which you don't-I can leave whenever the hell I want to."
"Why is this?"
"Don't know, donut, figure it out for yourself. I'm tired," he says and walks out without saying anything else. "Oh, and before I leave, do you mind un-cuffing me? I wouldn't normally ask, but hand cuffs are hard to sleep in, don't you think?" As the detective calls the police officer in the detective announces something in a threatening tone.
"Don't you think this is far from over, brat. Greg, escort him out of here and drive him home."
"Who said I wanted it to be over? Same time tomorrow, then?"
"Get him out of my site," the detective says in a disgusted manner and Hotch and I look at each other. Is he the serial killer?
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Carter's POV
I shrug my shoulders in return to the questions Hotch and my bro ask me. I'm not the killer, obviously, but why not play with them a little? I mean, they are profilers and they are more then capable to figure things out on their own. Of course, they're not nearly as fun to tease as donut dude. Now talk about funny; I don't think there are many people that turn pinkish-purple when they get angry. He almost looks like a prune. The key word being almost; he's not wrinkly at all, just that kind of color. However, it would be funny if he was old and had wrinkles. Maybe he uses Botox® injections to make the appearance of being young. Whatever the case, I like these two profilers; they're level headed.
"So, Carter, why are you so upset over these names that the media are giving these killers," again I shrug my shoulders in reply to Hotch's question.
"They deserve more respect then people give them."
"Why do you think they're looking for respect, Carter?"
"Well, if you look at it from their shoes, aren't most of them abused and looking for respect to rebuild their knocked down self-esteem? I know I would; if I was one of them, I mean." I smile in return to their inquiring looks.
I really am getting tired and would like to sleep; I might go to school tomorrow, but…if I'm too tired, then I'll skip and catch up on some quality Zs'. It's then that I remember I have a Chemistry test to knock out of the way. I inwardly sigh at the fact that I'm gonna fail because of how tired I'll be.
"Can I go home now? I'd like to sleep since I have a Chem. test to take care of tomorrow. I don't wanna fail it," I say apologetically. After all, I really want to keep talking to these profilers; particularly my older brother who I haven't seen since ages. However, donut bastard comes in and spoils my fun.
"You have no right to leave this station, brat."
"You have no right to hold me here, donut. I know my rights; if you don't have anything legit on me-which I know you don't-I can leave whenever I want to. Oh, and before I leave, do you mind taking these cuffs off? I think sleeping will be a bit painful otherwise, don't you?" He glares at me and I smile kindly in return as he calls in the big officer dude, Greg, to un-cuff me and take me home. Usually at this point I would be cursing and all at them, but there's no point in wasting precious energy.
Funny; I was angry when I first got here, but when I talked to the profilers, I feel really calm and almost happy. Again, almost being the key word here; who would be happy when they're innocent, know they're innocent, and is still accused of murder for no specific reason? I think the only shrink I'll be talking to is a profiler. They understand me-I think they do anyway. Oh well, time for sleep!
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Spence's POV
As Hotch and I watch him leave with the officer we exit the room and go to the rest of the team that's waiting behind the window. Morgan, being the first one closet to the door, jumps me.
"Man, Reid, why didn't you tell me you had a kid brother? A bit of an attitude problem, but I guess it comes with the age, right?" I inwardly groan at this but smile all the same.
"I didn't think he would end up in an interrogation room inside the PD. I think he misses me." J.J. looks at me skeptically.
"Are you sure, Spence? I mean, he's a good kid and all, but don't you think he's more interested in sleeping then anything else?"
"Well, actually, I think he really does miss Reid," Hotch says and everyone looks at him.
"Why? He didn't look sad to me." Morgan supplies and Hotch goes on.
"At first, when I was in there, he didn't say anything and kept glaring daggers at me. When Reid came in, he smiled briefly and started talking to us. Also, when Reid said what his real name was, he seemed to relax immediately and drop his defensive walls. Maybe you and Reid should keep an eye on Carter for the night. I'm not sure how calm he'll remain." Morgan and I nod at this and Emily asks a question.
"Okay, if Reid's kid brother really is the killer, then why wasn't he more defensive? Also, how could he remain so calm when you guys asked him those questions?"
"Seventeen percent of all petty killers remain calm when being asked questions to decrease suspicion. For them to be defensive would mean the police suspecting them. Of course, if they're not killers to being with, then there's no reason for them to be defensive to begin with. Thus, the statistic doesn't apply to them." Damn it! Well, I guess that statistic proves I'm objective; then again, I've always had an afinity for numbers and precentages.
"Thanks for the info, Reid. Let's go baby sit your kid bro." Morgan says with laughter in his voice and I follow him out to the parking lot and into the black car. So, my kid brother really hasn't change so much, has he?
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Author's Note: Did you know 95% of all statistics are made up on the spot? And only 5% have valid facts to back them up? Why did I tell you this? I thought you'd like some good, but true, humor. XD Credit to my friend Sky who told me about that. ^^
Anyway, how do you like this story so far? Should I continue it? My first published Criminal Minds fic! ^^ Review, please!
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