Author's Note: Hi! Hello! Welcome to my first full Criminal Minds fic. In case it still hadn't donned on someone, this will be (eventually) a SpencerxOC pairing fic! I've made several one shots with the same OC and Spencer (they're listed on my profile and on my tumblr account) just to test the waters and it seemed like people liked it so I finally got around to writing the fic! The first phase of this fic will cover season 6 but I will omit some episodes/scenes that I don't deem important to the story. The OC will look like the actress Natalia Tellez with long brown hair and brown eyes.

P.S. As always, I have a tumblr account dedicated to my fanfic works! It's a place where anyone can comment about a story or even just talk to me! I often drop aesthetic work belonging to my stories too! Feel free to check it out, my URL is "saiilorstars"

"Your usual," a bright blonde barista announced to the brunette on the other side of the counter.

However, said brunette seemed a little distressed going through her purse. Her hand rummaged for something inside, only stopping when the barista called out to her again.

"Delilah, your order!"

Delilah Carrero looked up from her bag and saw the barista waving her warm latte in the air. "Sorry!" She hurried up to the counter. "I just realized I forgot my phone at home."

The barista chuckled. "It's alright but will you be without your phone?"

Delilah rolled her eyes while the barista laughed again. "Oh ha, ha. Of course I will be...but it just so happens that I'm going home anyways. I've had a long day." She made a show of her right arm that held several bags.

"Right," the barista said. Her attention was momentarily drawn to the television hanging on the wall behind Delilah. "Oh, bloody murder."

Her comment made Delilah turn around to see a pretty blonde woman on the screen giving a report about whatever crime had just happened. Delilah didn't pay much attention to it. She knew she shouldn't. It was no good for her.

"I have to run," Delilah waved goodbye at the barista and hurried out. That was a lie. If she stuck around to listen to that report, her mind would go crazy.

She came up to her car and quickly climbed in but instead of going somewhere else to distract herself, she chose home. If she decided to go anywhere else, it might have a television and that wouldn't bode well for her mind.

"Home," she decided and turned the wheel to the left, forcing her car in the direction of her street. No way in hell was she turning somewhere else. "House, house, house. You're going to that house and nowhere else." She repeated that line over and over, drilling it into her head just like every time she saw a news-report like the one in the coffee shop.

She made a turn into a nice suburb street. Immediately she noticed the streets were empty. The usual children weren't out and it was well past three. The chatty mothers weren't even out sipping their wine or being nosy. And God were they nosy.

"Where is everyone…?" she mumbled under her breath. As soon as she neared the stop sign leading into her street, she saw the bright yellow cautionary tape blocking the road and the cops to accompany it. It was impossible to get through. "What the hell?" She had no choice but to make a turn and park in the first spot she saw.

Delilah pulled out her things — she wasn't going to make the trip back until tomorrow when she had to go for work — and crossed the street. She was slow when she walked down the block, her eyes quickly scanning the scene until she would find the unfortunate souls in body bags. She found the spot eventually...and when she did her entire body froze.

The house.

Delilah's big brown eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. The freckles sprinkled on her face were stretched with her shock. Her arms fell to her sides, letting her bags drop to the ground in the process. Only her purse's strap remained but it was dangling around her elbow. "N-n-n-n-n-n-n-no! That's my house!" she exclaimed.

Some of the neighbors outside had already come to know that information and now that they had the owner of the house, they watched like hawks.

Delilah ran towards her house as fast as she could but was, unsurprisingly, stopped by one of the officers behind the tape.

"Sorry ma'am," he had a raised hand in front of her. "No one passes through."

"But I live here!" Delilah frantically gestured to her house being entered and exited by complete strangers. "That's my house!"

The officer looked the woman over. "That's your residence?"

"Yes! Now let me get through!" Delilah practically ordered the man. Everything was racing in her mind that she could barely register the officer calling out for someone else to come over. "Wh-why are there forensics here?" She watched said crew emerge from her house with the familiar bags of evidence. "Why does my house need forensics?" She threw caution out the air — and with it the actual caution tape — to get into the scene herself.

"Ma'am! You can't do that!" the office yelled after her.

"I can do what I want when that—" she gestured to her house, "—is my house!"

"Ma'am—" the officer tried again when an older man approached.

"What's going on?"

"That's my house, dammit! I need to get in there!" Delilah frantically fixed the strap of her purse until it was back on her shoulder then folded her arms over her chest, expecting for this man to finally listen to her.

"You live there?" the older man asked.

"Yes!" Delilah decided to skip the repeated questions and took charge towards the house.

"Ma'am, you need to wait!" the older man was hot on her trail.

"Like hell! Was it a thief? Did they take my—"

The older man turned out to be quicker than she anticipated. He grabbed her arm and turned her around. "Hold on a minute!" He squeezed her Delilah's arm when he suspected she would try to run again. "If this is really your house—"

"It is!" Delilah angrily yelled. She was so tired of people not listening to her. She was speaking clearly, right? "I need to go see if something was taken!"

"There wasn't," the man told her. He slowly let go of her arm when he was sure that Delilah wouldn't leave without him again.

"Nothing was taken?" Delilah watched him shake her head. "Then what...there was forensics. Why were there forensics in my house?"

The man's eyes flickered past her to the house. "I'm Special Agent David Rossi. I'm with the FBI and you're going to have to come with me."

There was a clear stiffening reaction from Delilah. Her eyes widened for a moment. Her head turned towards the house and suddenly her heart was hammering in her chest. "They found me," she whispered so quietly that while the words had been heard, Agent Rossi didn't register it at that moment.

"What time did you leave your home, Miss…?"

Delilah met his gaze again, though her eyes were frantically flickering from one officer to the next. "Carrero. Delilah Carrero. I don't see an ambulance, does that mean you're the murderer? Oh God—" she suddenly remembered the news report at the coffee shop, "It was this house! It was my house on the television! There was a murder in here!"

"Miss Carrero, I can bring you inside if you'd like," Rossi's offer earned him an immediate nod of approval. It certainly calmed some of Delilah's frantic state.

"Hold on," she said just as they started making way for the house, "Why would you bring me in? It's a crime scene. Even if I live there…"

Rossi would commend the woman on her quick thinking. It also meant that he got to skip some of the explanations. "Being the owner of the house has some significance that we're hoping you can help us understand."

Delilah swallowed hard. As much as she hated to admit it, and she did, there was an undeniable sense of thrill course through her body knowing that she'd be brought into the case. Even if it was for something as small as this…

Stop it, she hissed at herself.

"My phone…" she remembered as they neared the front door, "It's still in the house. I forgot it in the morning."

"When exactly was that?"

"Um…seven…?" Delilah wasn't paying attention again. She had come into the foyer to see a trail of blood on the floor. "These are dots," she remarked. "There's dots of blood…" Someone had to have been carried in.

"Don't worry, the bodies have been taken out already."

"I don't scare easily." Delilah came into the living room packed with strangers. Her eyes trailed over the bright yellow stands of numbers signifying outstanding points in the crime scene.

The coffee table was on its side, glass shattered and sprinkled on the floor. Her two couches had gashes like someone had purposely stabbed them to get the stuffing out. The television had an ugly crack right down the middle. Miscellaneous possessions like her forgotten breakfast plate, her glass of wine from last night, papers, and pens were on the floor. Even her simple fish bowl tank had been smashed to the ground, her mollies all dead on the ground. The only things that survived were the curtains that had been pulled over the window, no doubt to give cover to the mastermind criminal.

Delilah let out a shaky breath. "Even my succulents didn't make it. Wait...my bedroom! Did they get into my room!?" She didn't wait for Rossi to answer her. She took off for the hallway, ignoring the agent's collective shout for her to wait.

Delilah came like a storm without a care for the people already in the room. "My journal! I need my journal!"

"Woah, woah, woah!" A dark-haired woman tried stopping Delilah from moving further inside.

"Get off me!" Delilah practically yelled as she wrestled the stranger's hands off her arms. "I need my journal!"

"You can't touch anything!" the woman continued to say.

"Hey! Hey! Is it this?" A tall brunette man called from the other side of the room. He waved a brown journal in his hand and to his relief, it stopped Delilah altogether.

A clear relief washed over her face when she saw it intact. "Yes, oh my God, yes! That's mine! Give it!" She dashed for the man with all the intentions of fighting him for the journal too if she had to.

"You're Tania?" He held the journal so easily above his head that even with Delilah's biggest jump, she would never be able to reach it.

"No, but I'm the owner of this house and that belongs to me!"

"Miss Carrero, you need to calm down," Rossi finally caught up and entered the room.

"I will when I get the journal back!"

"Reid, it's fine," Rossi instructed the tall man to hand over the journal.

Delilah quickly took the journal as soon as she could reach it. No one missed the way she clutched it to her chest. Once Delilah was calm enough, she noticed how trashed her bedroom was. The only thing she was responsible for was the unmade bed she left earlier in the day. Her wooden desk was missing two of its legs, the drawers were on the floor, and all her personal belongings over it were sprawled on the floor. The closet seemed to have thrown up all her clothes. There wasn't one article of clothing that remained on the hangers.

"Miss Carrero," Rossi's call did little to pull Delilah's attention. "This is Agent Emily Prentiss—" From the corner of Delilah's eyes, she saw him point to the woman, "—and Dr. Spencer Reid. They've been going through your house for anything that could tell us why your house was chosen for a double homicide."

"Double homicide..." Delilah repeated, her free hand finding its way to her chest where she proceeded to rub, almost drag, her palm over it.

The three agents exchanged looks with each other. Emily took charge after a moment and cautiously moved to Delilah's side. "Miss Carrero, we'll need a list of your valuables to confirm whether or not there was also a burglary."

"I doubt they took anything," Delilah said with a degree of certainty that no one could deny.

"Why's that?" Spencer asked her.

She met his gaze, revealing a rather distant look in her eyes. "I don't have anything." Her answer was clear and simple that held the same certainty of belief in what she said. Now that she saw things for herself, she knew this wasn't a random burglary—it wasn't even a burglary. She knew exactly what it was.

"Your cellphone," Rossi said. "No one's come across one in here. Are you sure you forgot that here?"

Delilah nodded. "Yeah."

"Then maybe you did have something," Emily said.

Delilah seemed mildly concerned about it. "I need to make a phone call," she bit her lower lip as her eyes took one more look at her room.

"We can do that from the station," Rossi said. "We'll need you to come in for the usual questions…"

Delilah made no attempt to protest. She clutched the journal closer to her, both of her arms locking it. She allowed Emily to lead her out of the room and was keenly aware that she was basically surrounded by the three agents. Tactics.

She stopped momentarily by the living room to gaze one more time inside. She wouldn't even bother trying her kitchen. It had to be in the same chaotic state as the rest of the house.

"Miss Carrero," Emily called from the front door.

Delilah nodded and caught up, only to get blindsided by the flash of cameras on the other side. Media. Delilah stopped with rapid blinking eyes that tried to stay open despite all the flashing lights and overlapping calls from the news reporters.

"They're like vultures," Rossi remarked with disdain.

"Like?" Emily threw him a look. She would almost say it was an offence to the creatures.

"Hey guys," Spencer nodded them to the few neighbors gathered just on the other side of the cautionary tape.

Delilah had already spotted them and was taking in their accusations in silence. In fact, the distant look on her face was back...or perhaps it never left. That was something to work out.

"Double homicide," sneered one old lady. "Course it had to be her! Weird old woman! She should be in handcuffs!"

Delilah's hand found its spot on her chest again. She rubbed hard circles over it.

"Is she going to be arrested?" called another woman slightly younger than the first. "You know she's a complete stranger, right?"

Delilah subtly scrunched her face and it would've gone unnoticed had she not been right in the middle of three profilers. They regarded her restraint not to respond to any of the insults thrown her way. Anyone else would've been arguing for their innocence.

"Miss Carrero you don't have to listen to them, c'mon," Emily gently took her by the arm.

"They never liked me," Delilah said quietly.

"Why is that?" Emily asked. The neighbors were rising in numbers and if she had to put a number, she'd say it was the whole block. But they were mostly women.

"Because I'm a stranger."

Delilah's answer caused the agents to share the same look again.

~0~

There were two murdered people in a woman's house. As far as the police knew, the corpses had been dumped into the house. The ransacking of the house seemed like an action of opportunity but that, coupled with every other aspect of the case, was just something else that the police didn't understand. The only concrete piece they had came in the form of a 5'6 woman who seemed more guarded than the actual precinct.

Delilah had not said a word the whole way to the precinct. She walked with keen eyes on everything around her. Just like everyone studied her, she studied them. The murder case was a big one and the media was yet to be silenced about it. There was no doubt in her mind that she was the number 1 suspect right now.

"What do we think about her?" Hotch, the Unit Chief, asked the three agents who'd met Delilah so far.

Delilah had been brought into one of the interrogation rooms. She made no questions nor a single protest. She just followed instructions.

"She hasn't exactly said much to make concrete assumptions," Rossi said first and was soon followed by Emily' light scoff.

"The little she did say is enough to know she's detached from the neighborhood and possibly her house."

"There were no portraits of herself nor of any family member either," Spencer added. "Actually, there wasn't really anything personalized lying around, except for that journal we found in her room."

"The one she almost tackled you for," Emily reminded, not that she needed to. It was hard to forget a raging woman hopping up and down in front of Spencer for a book he so strategically raised in the air.

"It had a name on it: Tania Oranears." Spencer remembered the name on the front cover of the journal. "She said the journal wasn't hers so maybe that could be a lead."

"Still, call Garcia to see what we can find out about her," Hotch instructed. He glanced at the interrogation room where Delilah patiently waited for one of them to go in and talk to her.

A short moment later, Delilah heard the door open and Emily and Hotch behind it. Her eyes followed them as they walked up to the other side of the metal table.

"I'm Agent Hotchner, you've met Agent Prentiss," he watched Delilah's unfazed stare when he dumped the case file in front of her.

She slowly reached for it and opened it up. It wasn't anything conclusive yet — they had only just gathered evidence after all — but the gruesome photographs were more than enough to make anyone grasp the severity of the situation. She was even more shocked to find that her house wasn't the first to be invaded.

"There were others?" she looked up in genuine shock. The agents took a special interest in that. Up until now, nothing had seemed to surprise Delilah.

"Yeah," Emily took the opportunity as fast as it came. She flipped through the pages until she found the ones she needed. "Two other houses were previously broken into."

"I'll save you time," Delilah spoke up for the first time since her arrival. She raised her head to the two agents staring at her like hawks. "I didn't do this. It's my house, yes, but I didn't do any of this. These people were already dead when they were deposited in my house."

"And how would you know that?" Emily lifted an eyebrow at her. So far, Delilah remained entirely calm...like she had nothing to hide. It was a bit too perfect.

"Because I think I would've noticed two corpses and a destroyed home when I left this morning. I left at 7 today and arrived at my yoga class at 7:15. My class is at 7:20. Those bodies were dead before they got to my house because if not they would've made a big noise and one of my nosy neighbors would've definitely heard. The fact that none of them saw someone enter my house is beyond me. They watch me like you are right now: hawks." She closed the file and slid it back to the agents. "Can I make my phone call now?"

What she said made perfect sense but just like before, Emily felt like it was too perfect of a thought. The way Delilah switched from a distant woman — someone who was in space — to someone who thought as logical as one of them...it wasn't normal. It didn't fit the dynamic of someone who lived in the neighborhood that Delilah did.

The door opened again and this time Spencer poked his head inside. He very briefly crossed gazes with Delilah — it was enough for her to realize there was something new they picked up on — before he looked to the agents. His nod was more than enough to get Hotch out.

Delilah watched the two men leave and when the door closed, Emily cleared her throat and grabbed the seat across the table. "Can we go over your day?" she asked.

Somehow, they all seemed to forget that phone call Delilah kept requesting for. With a sigh, Delilah nodded.

Outside, though, the rest of the agents were gathered together by one phone call. Their technical analyst was on the other end and she had some pretty interesting information to report.

"Okay, so the house is definitely owned by one Delilah Carrero. Everything about it is legit. She holds a job at a furniture store — she is off today though — and she's got a subscription to a yoga place down a block from the store but…" Penelope made that 'but' very sharp, almost giving the team the image of her raising her finger in the air (and maybe she was), "The weird part — the shady part I should say — is that 6 months ago she didn't exist."

"Come again?" Agent Morgan asked.

"I'm saying that 6 months ago, there was no record of a Delilah Carrero anywhere. The credit card usage didn't start up until 6 months ago. Subscriptions are the same. I have an abundant pile of your usual official documents — birth certificate, high school degree, driver's license but none of those things were ever used until 6 months ago. But to anyone else, Delilah Carrero has done many things in her life."

"Well that can't be right," Agent Jennifer Jareau 'JJ' remarked, her brows furrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest. "How does someone manage to pull that off?"

Spencer tilted his head silently.

"Garcia," called Rossi, "Is there anyone she's related to? Anyone who could've helped her pull that off?"

"No," Penelope said promptly, "I've looked, believe me, but Delilah's been on her own."

"Nobody can pull this off on their own," Morgan said, shaking his head.

"Maybe she didn't do it on her own," Spencer said, his eyes flickering towards the interrogation room. The rest of the team recognized the look on his face. He made a connection that none of them were in on. "No personalized pictures, no attachment to anything inside the house, to anyone in the neighborhood? I know why."

~ 0 ~

Dellah had listed all the places she'd gone to in the day. Emily had written down every place on the scrap of paper within the file.

"You're wasting your time with me," Delilah said in the end. Emily detected no argumentative tone in her words but it was still something she heard every time she was on a case. Delilah seemed to guess what Emily was thinking because she added, "I'm not trying to be rude or make your job harder — I know it's difficult enough — but I don't have anything to do with the murders." She heard the door opening just as she asked, "Can I please make my phone call now?"

"You're not under arrest or anything," Spencer had come in and walked directly to the table. "Who do you need to call?" There was a subtle flicker of defensiveness in Delilah's expression that both Spencer and Emily took notice of.

"I don't see how that's any of your concern," Delilah still answered calmly. "My cellphone was taken and I don't have access to my landline right now. I need to make a call."

"Yes, but you've been requesting for one since we left your house. There were no tells that someone else lived with you — no family, no spouse, no partner, no roommate — which means that—"

"—I'm trying to call someone different, yes," Delilah rose from her chair and grabbed her journal quickly as if someone were about to take it. She was under their stares again and by that point, she was just too tired. "I've been in here for approximately 20 minutes so…" she met Spencer's gaze, "You've figured it out."

Emily glanced at Spencer, wanting to know what that 'figured it out' bit was.

"Yeah," Spencer ultimately nodded at Delilah, his expression softening. "I'm sorry."

Delilah's lips curved into a light smile. "Can I please make that call now?"

"Of course," Spencer motioned for her towards the door. Delilah thanked him and headed out the room.

"What did we figure out exactly?" Emily asked as soon as Delilah left.

Spencer looked after Delilah with sympathy. "Delilah's in Witness Protection."