"Spencer, this is not a request. This is not a negotiation," Garcia said mulishly, "Thanksgiving is time for family and you, my little pumpkin bread, are family to me." A smile flashed across her face, erasing the stubborn frown she had worn while arguing with him, "So, be there at 3 pm, dinner is at 6. That will give you time to meet the family." "Family!" Reid said in alarm. He was certain he had heard that Garcia didn't have any family. "Friends are the family you choose," she replied mysteriously as she walked back to her desk. "Garcia got you, huh?" JJ asked sympathetically. Reid nodded mutely, still a bit stunned. "Yeah, she got me last Christmas. Don't worry. Her 'family' is eclectic but their pretty sweet. It's a bit like the alternative version of the Brady Bunch," JJ said with a smile before heading up to her office. A look of horror washed over Reid's face as he processed that. The Brady Bunch…kids. It wasn't that Reid disliked children. Actually he thought they were fascinating. They tended to think in non-linear ways. But the sentiment wasn't really returned. He just couldn't manage to relate to children. At best he made kids nervous; sometimes he made them…cry. Reid thought about the likely outcome of being trapped in a house with strangers and children for a minimum of 3 hours and could do only one thing. He prayed that a case would break and keep them away through November 25th.

Spencer's hand hovered for a moment before dropping a soft knock on Garcia's door. After a moment the door was flung open to reveal Garcia in a red and black polka dot apron with her hair in a riot of tight ringlets. Her smile widened when she saw him, "Come on in sweetie, the abode of the Hearth Goddess is yours." With that she stepped to the side so he could enter. "Um, thanks Garcia. I uh, this is for you," he stammered as he handed her a bottle of chardonnay. "Ah, your mama raised you so good," she said as she accepted the bottle and slipped an arm through his, "Come on, I'll show you around." With that Spencer was tugged through a whirl wind of introductions to several adults and teens. He had no idea what anyone's name was but at least he hadn't had to actually talk to anyone. With that, Garcia pushed him gently toward the living room as she retreated back to the kitchen to continue cooking. Spencer carefully moved through the throng, giving an anxious smile to anyone that made eye contact. All of the doors were open in the apartment and it looked like people were freely milling around. Spencer's curiosity got the better of him and he poked his head into each room to see what Garcia's home was like. True to form, two walls of the office were covered with computers, sheets of code and various fluffy pens and troll dolls. On the other wall were a small bookshelf and a battered naugahyde love seat. Spencer perused the bookshelf and pulled out a thin volume of assorted poetry to calm his nerves.

Spencer found several poems that were his favorites and become engrossed in the language. So engrossed that he didn't notice anyone entering until the cushion dipped under the weight of another person. Spencer looked up and began to panic slightly. A child sat on the other side of the love seat with her legs tucked up under her and the tip of her long brown braid tucked into her mouth as she slowly nibbled at it. She was dressed in jeans and a long sleeved polka dotted shirt with a lime green t-shirt over it. The overall effect was a bit jarring on the eyes. The girl seemed to be oblivious to his presence as she focused on the paperback book open in front of her. Spencer glanced at the title and perked up, "Hey, I've read that!" he exclaimed without thinking. The girl fished a piece of neon blue ribbon from her pocket and used it as a bookmark before she turned to him. She looked skeptical, as if she expected him to laugh at her at any moment, "You like Ira Levin?" she asked. Spencer felt a grin stretch his lips. It wasn't often he got to discuss books and never with an eight year old, "Yeah. He's great. You know his view of a preserve for 'pure' species was influenced by his experience with the insular racial neighborhoods in New York?" "Really?" the girl asked, fascinated.

"Yeah he saw the homogenization of races throughout America and noticed that these communities were trying to keep their areas as similar to their origins as possible. He thought that once people lost a sense of roots that we might use these models to attempt to recreate a sense of connection to our pasts."

"Cool! Have you read Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut?"

"Definitely. Actually a couple of my friends are huge Kurt Vonnegut fans."

"Wow. The kids at my school don't even know what dystopian is. All they care about is Harry Potter and Percy Jackson."

Spencer smiled, "I'm Spencer," he said and held out his hand.

"Amanda," she returned and took his hand with a smile of her own. She smiled for the first time, revealing a gap where her front tooth had fallen out. They continued on to other dystopian novels that Spencer had read. Amanda grabbed a pencil from the desk and jotted down several titles that she had never heard of before. From there they ranged to other SciFi novels and TV shows and even to Spencer's views of poetry when Amanda saw the book he had been reading. She professed not to like poetry much but she thought it was interesting to hear all of the things Spencer knew about the writers. They continued to talk through dinner and after until it was time for Amanda to leave.

Spencer smiled as she pulled her bright pink parka on over the garish shirts, "It was nice to meet you Amanda," he said and again held out his hand to her. Amanda looked at it for a moment before throwing herself at the startled FBI agent and flinging her arms around his waist in a tight hug, "You too Spencer," she mumbled into his sweater vest before disengaging and walking out the front door. Spencer just stood there, stunned, for several moments. "Awe, and you said you weren't any good with kids," Garcia said teasingly from the kitchen.

Spencer regarded the closed door for several minutes before replying.

"She's not a kid. She's Amanda."