I painted a stripe of lime green nail-polish across the nail of my big toe but my hand spasmed suddenly and I streaked a line across the carpet.

"Oh shit," I mumbled, rubbing at the mark. I glanced up at the t.v which I was sat on the floor in front of and listened intently as the BAU team from the show Criminal Minds, delivered their profile on the killer.

"A white female in her late 30's early 40's who thinks killing is the only way she can obtain a child. Maternal desire is the profound emotional desire to mother a baby. She could possibly do something drastic like kidnap a child or perform a c-section abduction. She also might work for the foster system."

It was amazing how they could gather all of that information from a few bodies. Of course I knew it wasn't real (as much as I wished it all was) but there were people out there -real life profilers who actually did this for a living. And here I was, Tessa Winters, a lowly barmaid with a degree in Criminological Psychology (which was actually a complete waste of time and I'm still paying for it) and the best relationship I've had in the past three years is with my cat, Kevin.

And I had a slight obsession with Dr Spencer Reid. But who wouldn't? He was quirky, beyond intelligent, I loved his hair far too much and he was unfortunately, a fictional character. The best men always were weren't they?

The sharp knock at the door brought me back to my living room and with Reid's face still fresh in my mind, I paused the television and stood up slowly. I had been sat in the same position on the floor for about six or seven episodes which meant that my limbs had gradually fallen asleep. I screwed the lid back onto the nail-polish and put it onto the side table next to a lamp. Another knock, harder this time.

"I'm coming!" I called irritably, annoyed that I was being pestered. I didn't usually get visitors so late in the day (it was about five o'clock) and I wanted to finish the episode before I had to get ready for work. The evening shift on a Friday night was a bitch at The Dirty Dog, the bar where I worked. Everyone had a reason to get drunk -no matter how poor it may be, and the end of the week seemed to be a good enough reason for everyone to get absolutely plastered and raucous. I pulled on the hoodie which I had dumped on the sofa earlier and tried to disguise the fact that I hadn't actually gotten dressed yet today. Raking a hand through my hair, I hurried over to the front door and opened it.

"Oh- it's you,"

"That's no way to talk to family," Caroline Davies, my young brother by four years; Steven's fiancé and the most perfect and arrogant woman in the entire world, flicked her white blonde hair over her shoulder and shot me a dazzling smile.

"Almost family," I muttered as she pushed past me and into my flat. Caroline and I weren't exactly BFF's but that was mainly because she was a grade A bitch. But my brother was 'desperately in love' with her so I put up with her. Mostly. Steve had always been a little oblivious in when it came to girls and he had ignored my dire warnings about this one (not that he could really rely on my stellar taste if we were to look back on my dating history) and decided that because I hated the woman, Caroline must be perfect wife material.

She wrinkled her nose at the general mess around the place and the lack of stylish décor. "So what can I do for you?" I asked, anxiously fiddling with the hem of my hoodie and loitering by the door.

With her eyes still glancing around, Caroline smiled. "Your mother sent me," she said, finally turning to look at me with a smug smile on her face. "She wanted to know if you were going to make the rehearsal dinner tomorrow? Unless of course, you're too busy?"

Oh dear lord of course, the stupid rehearsal dinner. How could I have forgotten? It's all my mother and Caroline had gone on about for weeks- why did mum have to convince Caroline to make me a bloody bridesmaid?

"No no- I can make it," I said. I hated the thought of attending an event which was solely centred around Caroline but I feared my mum's wrath a lot more. Dorothy Winters A.K.A Dotty the Ice Queen (a personal favourite of mine), was a London socialite who harboured a love for expensive and elaborately thought-out brunches, luncheons and dinner parties. Ironically enough, no one really ate at those parties.

"Oh and you're welcome to bring a date dear," Caroline added. "Although we don't expect you to so no pressure." The comment made my blood boil and I fought to keep my temper down. It would not be wise to kill my brother's fiancée before they had even been married. It would so not be a good idea. I had to keep telling myself that as Caroline sat down on the edge of my couch and folded her hands neatly in her lap. I really wanted to punch her in her stupid perfect, smug face.

"I actually have someone in mind thanks," I told her before I could stop myself and think rationally. Caroline's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose somewhere near her hairline in disbelief.

"You're kidding," she laughed, putting a delicate hand up in front of her mouth as if she was trying to contain her mirth. I scowled at her and tried to stop myself blushing. The only person I was kidding was myself.

"No actually I'm not." I retorted irritably. "In fact I'll give him a call once you leave." Oh shit, who was I going to call? Who did I know with a penis?

Why could I not think of any male names?

For god's sake why did I not have any guy friends?

"Oh really? Well what's his name then?" Caroline asked, trying to mask her curiosity with skepticism.

Male name. Male name. Now would be a really good time to think of a male name.

Panic. "Spencer Reid!"

Ah shit. That wasn't a good idea. That was most possibly the worst idea ever. Even worse than the time I tried to roller-skate off the end of a pier down the seafront when I was eight.

"He's a doctor," I said my eyes flitting around the room nervously. "Practically a genius-" Oh my god someone stop me making an arse of myself. "He has three PhDs and two BAs you know," I waffled nervously. Why was I still talking?

Caroline looked impressed to her chagrin. And despite the blind panic beginning to well up in my chest at the thought of being caught in my humiliating lie, I did feel smug. But only for a minute.

"Listen Caroline, it's been really nice chatting to you but I have to get ready for work now," I said hurriedly, getting up and walking towards the door. Caroline took her time getting up and then made an exaggerated display of brushing herself down and ridding her cream dress of make believe dust. Well if we're being honest here, it was probably real dust. She passed through the doorway and then turned back to look at me with a smile.

"I can't wait to see you and Spencer the Genius tomorrow night," she said, chuckling at her own sparkling wit.

"Yes yes," I muttered distractedly, waving my hand at her. "See you." I shut the door quickly and then slid down it, ending up on the floor with my knees tucked under my chin.

I buried my face in my hands and groaned. What the hell was I going to do now? I couldn't very well show up at the dinner alone and I had literally just made up a fake boyfriend to avoid pity. Hi yeah- rock bottom? It's me Tessa, I'd like to stop being knocked down now.

I glanced at the clock on my wall. "Crap," I mumbled, clumsily getting to my feet. I was late for work.

"Fosters and two Barcardi and cokes please," a guy with a neatly trimmed beard asked from the consumer side of the bar. The better side in my opinion.

"Sure thing bud," I replied grabbing three glasses from the counter behind me and placing them on the bar. I pulled a pint of Fosters from the tap and neatly scraped off the foam with the side of the glass. I then filled the other two glasses a third of the way with rum and poured the coke over the top.

"Ice or no ice?"

"Ice please," the man answered. I scooped a few cubes of ice into the glasses and put them on a tray for the man. "Cheers," he said taking the tray. He pulled out his wallet and handed me a tenner. "Fancy giving me your phone number?" I raised an eyebrow at the cocky bastard who pocketed his change and I began wiping down the bar with a rag.

"And why would you want my number?" I asked innocently, not meeting his eyes.

"Cause red-heads are my thing." I glanced at the two blondes sitting in the booth he had just vacated. Right.

I sighed and looked up at him. "Why would I go out with you when your wife is sitting in that booth with her best friend?" The guy's eyes flitted over his shoulder to his table and then back at me.

"I- um-"

"And it's not like you're going through a dry spell right?" I asked him. "You're sleeping with your wife's friend after all."

"How would you-"

"You're wearing a wedding ring, the friend keeps looking at you over your wife's shoulder and you have a motel key in your wallet," I said, pushing the tray towards him. "Have a nice night." Opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, the guy picked up the tray and walked back to his table, a little less swagger in his step. I smirked and returned to wiping down the bar. At least I was able to do something with my degree. And then I realised that in the end that random douche was probably the winner because I'm still a barmaid and if his parking ticket sticking out of his wallet was recent then he worked at a bank most likely bringing in a pay-check I could only dream about. And the smirk was gone.

I just successfully brought down my own high. Go me.

Before I knew it we were on the wrong side of 11 o'clock and my shift was almost over. I groped around in the pocket of my too short and too tight skirt that was my uniform for my phone so that I could double-check the time. I found it and tried typing in my password but my vision was blurry and my fingers suddenly felt too big for the little Blackberry keys. So I may have had a drink or two in an attempt to cheer myself up a bit. Okay so maybe I had gotten completely hammered because no man ever hit on me in a normal setting and I was probably going to be working this same job until the day I died. But that was all right now because I couldn't focus which made everything seem really funny and I kept spilling drinks down myself and people kept giving me tips and all I could see were bright shapes.

"Winters I think you need to go get some fresh air, maybe have a piss or something," the manager Hank said, looking at me pointedly. He wasn't being strict with me because he wasn't really in much of a position to judge me, this was the first night I had got pissed on the job, this looked like a regular Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday to Hank. I sighed and hiccuped suddenly which made my whole body jerk and I giggled. I saluted and put my phone back in my pocket and staggered towards the bathroom.

I can hold my alcohol- hell I can drink the best of them under the table usually but there gets to a point when you're drinking to stop your misery, when you stop giving a shit about what you're actually drinking and the only thing you focus on is to keep the numb buzz going for as long as possible. Which meant that if I had any more then there was a good chance that I was going to die on the dingy floor of liver failure. I pushed open the door to the ladies' room and stumbled inside, quickly throwing myself into a cubicle just as I threw up, narrowly getting it in the toilet.

"Oh fuck," I groaned, falling back on my arse and leaning against the door. With a considerable amount of alcohol gone from my system the effects began wearing off and a severe headache kicked in. I twisted my shaking hands into my knotted red hair and shudder as a wrack of shivers hit my body. The vomit left an acidic taste in my mouth and my throat burned.

This was not where I wanted to end up. This was not where I wanted my life to go. Tears slipped from my undoubtedly bloodshot eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I tucked my knees under my body and I began to sob.

And then promptly fell asleep.

A/N- So... I started a new story! I know I probably shouldn't but recently I went on study leave and got really lonely and turned to the Criminal Minds boxset for company. One thing lead to another and now I have a story. It was a moment of weakness.

Anyway this is suppose to be a bit of a laugh and it's my first Criminal Minds fic so please tell me what you think!

~Jess