Good Morning, this is your lovable idiot, LOE101 and today I will provide you with a story I have been toying around with for a while after getting back into Criminal Minds - Now, I love Reid to bits, he's an awesome awkward dude but no this is in no way a romance. That's corny and I think you can guess who the unsub is without even trying so it's plain wrong.

Love and jelly tots to all who bother to review,

LOE101

"Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition." - Timothy Leary

"Look sharp, people. We've got a case out in Boston, it's rather grisly, if you ask me." JJ entered the open room, fanning herself with a thin beige file. The others looked up, brows furrowing in surprise from their own work being interrupted. "Not for the weak of heart." She added on as she plopped it onto a table, giving Reid a smile whom returned it with a skeptical look.

Morgan was the first to reach for it, flipping to the first page of a report of the crime scene. He denied to read it aloud, scouring it with overshadowed eyes which lightened with surprise momentarily before darkening back down in deep thought.

After an intake of breath, Morgan spoke: "The victim was found in the middle of a dance floor in one of the stand alone clubs in Boston. His name was Daniel Strind, it looks like he just wanted to enjoy a Saturday night out with his friends again but ended up being stabbed 30 times in the lower abdomen under the influence of... dilaudid." His eyes lifted to Spencer, though he tried to not look as if gauging the man's reaction to this.

The younger simply swallowed and nodded, "Go on."

"He bled to death while the unsub made their escape. It was a heavy crowd that night, so no-one noticed anyone leaving. Some people who were at the club have been detained for questioning."

Rossi grimaced, running his fingers thoughtfully over his stubble. "Hotch, Morgan... If you would like to accompany me to the crime scene, the rest of you can report to the Boston police station."

The waiting room in the police station was tense, glowers from all corners of the room settled upon the profilers, not one of the club-goers seeming pleased about wasting their time there.

Nothing but the quiet murmurings of people confirming their alibis and answering questions was heard above the ticking of the clock. One of the possible suspects gave out a conspicuous groan and slouched further into her seat only to be asked for a few questions herself by Dr. Reid.

Following him, the woman seemed determined to make a show about how stiff her shoulders were and how tired she was - repeatedly yawning and stretching, rolling her shoulders with loud clicks. He only frowned but did not bring up her apparent attempt to annoy him.

"You don't mind being asked a few questions, do you?" He asked, clearing his throat and gesturing to the chair opposite him as he sat down himself.

The woman shrugged, muttering a not very amused "S'alright." and almost falling onto the offered seat.

"What's your name?" He took note of the faintly foreign accent, though paid no mind to her rude tone. He'd had a lot of this attitude in the past couple of hours.

"Anna Budworth. Yours?"

"My name's Doctor Spencer Reid, I hope you don't mind telling me where you were at around eleven last night."

"Sure. I was at the club hoping to pick up a guy when people started a panic. I thought at first they were just being idiotic and drawing attention until I saw this guy on the floor."

"Was anyone with you?"

"Love, I was tryin' to get laid. D'you think I would drag someone else along?" She leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of heavy mascara around scrutinizing eyes, sarcasm just dripping from her faintly Irish tone.

"Er... Perhaps not. Did you know the man, at all?"

"Who knows. Might 'ave seen him before. All sorts o' people were there, you know? There were some really shady guys hanging around, clinging onto the girls like crazy. Wouldn't surprise me if they stabbed him out of jealousy, they get crazy when they're on the happies."

"Happies?"

"You know, ecstasy and the like. Hey, is it true..." The woman's voice became hushed and an excited glint lit her eyes, "I heard they stabbed his dick until it looked like a recorder?" A grin had actually stretched across her face, like a child sharing a secret.

"Um... There were a lot of wounds to his lower body but we cannot share specific details."

"I knew it! Say, Weedy Boy, do you think there'll be another? You know, it turns out to be a serial killer and such?" All of a sudden, Anna seemed very eager to engage in conversation compared to her reserved and agitated attitude from before. Spencer was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, a slightly chagrined look crossing his features at the nickname she had just given him.

"I can't say exactly... If the man was drugged and this was planned then there would perhaps be another. Do you know anything else?"

"Drugged? Ooh, this is interesting. You know, I was taking psychology and such in college but I've switched to biology. You should give this guy a name if he kills again, like "The Nightclub Slasher" or " The Penis Poker". Names are fun." Anna continued to gush meaninglessly, ignoring or avoiding his question.

"I really can't... Publicity for these kind of things is really bad and can encourage them to do it again."

"Yeah... But why not, that's more work for you guys, right? They kill, the media spills and you get paid. Everybody's happy! Right?"

"Apart from the victim and everyone around them."

"... Casualties of war, mate. Casualties of war. Can't do nothin' if they're chasing after girls and get their own cocks filled with 'oles."

"Why do you keep mentioning the man chasing girls?" His brow narrowed in perplexity. Was she not saying something or just being stereotypical about males? This potential suspect could have a major grudge against men.

"Oh, well, he may or may not have been really trying to get the girls around the bar into bed, my being one of them. I could just tell some of the boyfriends were bound to boil over. It's what men are like, right?" Anna cast her eyes off, rolling them like she was making an offhand remark but then stopped and peered at him with the darkly circled eyes at him again, a faint smile playing around her lips. "Apart from you, Weedy, you seem like an alright chap."

"... Thanks. You say he'd been at the bar, where did he go after that?"

"With some blonde to the toilets, leaving her boyfriend in the dust." She muttered, speaking in disgust before breaking into excitement again. "Say, Weedy, what's it like hunting serial killers?" She seemed pretty determined to get back to her own topic of choice.

"Uh... Interesting, I guess. There are a lot of different cases but all of them are pretty terrible. There's nothing exciting about the loss of life." He was feeling rather uncomfortable, like he was the one being questioned by this polarized woman who was distant and hostile one moment and bubbling with joy the next. She was definitely something of a sadist, the way she was so enamored by the death or pain of others.

"So why do they do it then, if you say that? I can't imagine them killing if they weren't excited by it."

"Some of them can be sadistic, their victim's pain is their pleasure. But others may do it out of necessity, they can't stop themselves until turned in. There are mental problems that explain it, circumstances... there's so much more than being pleased or sexually excited by it. Like in the case of..." And before he could stop himself, Reid was beginning to talk at length about cases he really shouldn't be speaking of but the woman had yet to look so annoyed or exasperated by his rambling, in fact quite awestruck - her mouth gradually beginning to slide open. By the time he trailed off, it was agape like it could not be wider.

"You're. So. Cool!" Her fists slammed onto the table, causing the agent to jump at the unexpected force of both voice and action. "Man, I wish I'd continued my psychology major! Your job is so exciting... Gosh, I wish I could do that kind of stuff. But I don't think I've got that stomach for it. I've never seen a dead guy before, there were too many people last night. Can I see it?" Her voice continued at a rate of knots, faster than he himself had been speaking, changing topic faster than he could read. "And so that's when my mom said I should change because I was like really scary getting into the whole researching serial killers and stuff. You know, she said it was an obsession. Only it wasn't, because I've seen and had obsessions, she was exaggerating. Do you ever get that, weedy? I mean it's cool if you don't but it would be great if someone would sympathize with having to deal with a nutjob of a mother who thinks my life will turn into a soap opera at any moment like- Man, look at the time!" Reid's mind was still scrambling to keep up with Anna, her words bounding around in his head before that final exclamation was uttered. The time... He'd totally forgotten the time!

It had almost been an hour since he'd begun to interview her, sidetracked so easily by the topic of serial killers and her apparently deranged mother that he hadn't even noticed. This was bad, everyone had probably finished being interviewed and here they were spilling out knowledge about case files.

The woman stood in a rather flustered way but not before grabbing a pen and pulling his arm across the table forcefully, scribbling a series of numbers onto the palm gentler than just now.

"It's been great, Weedy Boy. You're like a crime-solving Stephen Hawking. That's my number right there, gimme a call and we can 'ave more in-depth talks like this. Let's meet again sometime, 'kay?"

And with a cheery smile, the potential suspect had gone, waving her goodbye while he merely sat there staring at his arm with a knitted brow.

Ahem, yes riveting, I know. Amazing, I know further. Just kidding. That probably sucked ass, and no I have not revised because I'm epically lazy like that. Yes, epically. Do review and tell me if someone is too OOC or something isn't right because I'm literally blind to plot holes in everything.

Love and Jellytots,

LOE101