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.

Also for those who asked- This is set after Devil's Night. Now officially a cross over :)

CM/ NCIS: Phantasmagoria

Helpless. Being unable to help oneself. Lacking power or control. In French, Impuissance. In Italian, Indifeso. In Manderin, Wuzhu de. Whatever it was it is in whatever language she happened to know, this must be the picture beside that word.

She never had a picture beside that word before. Her father always told her that there's always a solution, she just had to find it. He always said she always had a choice. Doing nothing is also a choice. He always said that the correct choice is the one a person can live with. Mainly because a person literally can not live knowing that he or she caused another person irrepairable harm.

And that's what she's done. Sure, she ran away from Bobby Singer but she's mended that fence in recent years. They were good now. She once swore to give up the monster business but found herself right back in it when the monsters were in her town because she can't possibly let people get hurt or die when she knew she could prevent it. She tried as much as she could to help the Winchesters out whenever they called. She's flown and driven in and out of Indianna to check on Lisa and Ben for Dean. She did what she could for her mother's archeology friends, for Gibbs, and Fornell and Sir Rodney and everyone- She's done everything she could with the time that she had.

Just like her parents taught her.

Helpless was just never in her vocabulary simply because no matter how hard the situation had become, there was always a way. A crawl space. A ledge. A hidden little something to make it all better. If the Winchesters could go against the stars and throw a wrench into the literal end of the world, then why couldn't she find a way out of this particular situation? A room full of people being held hostage is totally not in the same level of the apocalypse. This pales in comparison- dust in the cosmos.

"There isn't even one demon involved," she whispered to herself as she hugged her knees. She can make a run for it and risk getting shot down. But then if she makes it, she would've left a room full of people still in trouble. She can't walk away. One on one versus a marine didn't sound so bad but there were four healthy marines and one injured and all five of them were heavily armed and trained. These weren't hunters. These weren't street thugs. They weren't drunk tough guys in the roadside bars she oftened or jerks walking down the street. No, they were marines – the relative equivelent of her father's special forces friends- there were five of them.

"Five Gibbs'," she muttered, shaking her head lightly. If they were this armed, they might also have bombs she can't see. Or at the very least, grenades.

To make matters worse, she knew that one Spencer Reid was out there in another room and she knew when she saw him hand over the medicine and slip the earpiece down her sleeve that he's read that file. The utterly confused and pained expression on his face said it all. How could you, Slim seemed to ask.

But the real answer was more upsetting- How could she not? The correct decision is the one she could live with. And she could live with not telling him something he didn't need to know if it protects him. He didn't need the burden of carrying what she knew. Not the file. Definitely not the monsters. His life is difficult enough without her issues to worry about.

He must be so upset being in the room with Gibbs and Tony and Tim and Ziva. Being the last to know sucks, she thought glumly. She would be... for some time. The thing with Spencer however, is that when you're cut off, you're cut off. He's going to put in all possible effort to forget.

That was it. She was going to be in the same list as his dad. A person with eidetic memory doesn't just forget about his father.

It would be a miracle if she even had a friend after this.

A ringing phone interrupted her thoughts. Summer lifted her curious gaze ever so slightly trying to find out if it was just one of the phones that were confiscated. But when she saw their leader raise one to his ear, she could feel trouble brewing. She tugged on the zipper of her jacket, making sure she zipped all the way up to the collar just in case anything happened.

"Tammy?" One of them asked.

"Seat 6. Table 12," the man replied, grimly.

Table 12? That's only two tables away, Summer thought, spotting the table in question. It was one of the larger tables nearest to the divider that seperated the salons. Ten people sat around the table. Three older gentlemen, two older ladies- one of which she recognized as a politician. Four younger men, probably somewhere in their mid thirties and one younger lady she recognized as one of those socialites born into a political household. But which one was seat 6?

Two soldiers came, the leader and the twin of the injured marine. Summer watched as they beelined for the female politician. Her eyes grew wide when she saw that the twin marine was reaching for his pistol even before they reached their target. They're going to kill her, she realized, instinctively readying to move as she signed the letters K-I-L-L hoping that someone was watching the camera feed. Hoping that something would be done before they executed her.

Infront of everyone.

Who does that?, her mind screamed

But there was nothing coming through her earbud. The silence was deafening. She counted the footfalls the men took with bated breath, waiting for an instruction from the other end that she could maybe follow. They took two more steps forward and she still had nothing. Come on, she quietly pleaded, Please.

Bring in the SWAT. Bring in something.

Anything.

"Ma'am," the man named Tammy said while the other fully unholstered his pistol.

Summer saw the older lady freeze. Time had run out. Screw it, Summer decided moving into a low crouch. She can't let this happen. There's just no way she can watch someone murder another person in cold blood. Her hand reached for the knife on her left boot but decided against it. What was that line from that movie Tony forced her to watch- You don't bring knife to a gunfight?

It doesn't matter now. Spencer knew about the violence and as much as she disliked the idea, he now gets to watch it first hand. If they manage to kill her then she didn't have to live with this particular decision anyway. There's no such thing as regret when you're dead.

They might be bigger and stronger but hell, she was almost certain she was faster and most defenitely smaller. Summer broke into a run, getting as much speed as possible to have enough momentum to mount the table top and slide to the other side where her foot would hopefully come in forceful contact with the twin's abdomen.

Hopefully.

But like her dad and his buddies always say- Who dares wins.