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smurphyse · 2 years ago

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Bloodied Up In A Barfight | Spencer Reid

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 3 of Routine Maintenance

Warnings: barfights, fistfights, mentions of death, tension, arguments, BAU talk

Summary: You head to Tooky's bar to tend bar for Holly, and a fight breaks out. Later, Spencer finds something out about you and things get worse.

After a long irritating day of trying to fix a toilet in Room 2, I went up to my apartment for a nice hot shower, stared out the window for a bit like always, then made my way to Tooky's.

It was one of my favorite spots in town. Nestled in the middle of the bay on the beach, the ramshackle bar held a special place in my heart. It was where I first kissed Ernie right before an eighteen year old me went home with him that night we met. If only I'd known what happiness would come after that night, I would have cherished it more.

A whirlwind engagement, three years of bliss and love and the sea, all culminating in one violent night that took him from me. I should have known I wouldn't get to keep him or my happiness.

I tried to shake away the crushing weight of my own memory as I did every day driving through these streets, but some days it was harder than others. Instead, I focused on driving my shitty old VW bus around the pothole that Spencer hit on his first day. With a smirk I noticed it was bigger than the day he got here.

A majority of the seating was laid on the sand, hand placed stones that Tooky herself had put down when she first came here. She’d turned this beach into a paradise of hammocks, tables, and a small theater with a sheet hung with the ocean behind it. The woman was ancient, but she was more than happy to show off her much younger forty year old wife Vera who looked at her like she was made of gold.

The bar was open, little cut tiles shaped in the design of fish and the waves outside under a wood top. Glasses hung from mounts just in reach for servers and the mirrored back held all the tequila and alcohol a girl could ask for. Tooky had small swings on the outside of the bar walls, and the patrons used the windowsill as a table. People already milled about though the sun was just beginning to set, the ocean blue shimmering with the bright pink-purple of the fading light.

“Hey Tooky!” I called as I stepped in, that old familiar smell of cigarettes and palm fronds washing over me like the sand in the wind.

Tooky, aged like the mountains and canyon ranges around us, rested on a stool behind the bar. Blue and pink neon flashed over her silver braids, the ends of which laid in her lap they were so long. Turquoise and sandstone jewelry hung from her long earlobes and wrinkled wrists, and she gave me a big smile and a wave when she saw me.

“Honey Bee, c’mover here!” The silver backed bracelets clacked with her movements, her sundress swishing along. Tooky Builds-the-Fire was as old as the sea itself, but she didn’t let it slow her down. She was as full of light now as she likely had been as a kid.

I made my way over and gave her a big hug. Her spindly arms held me in a death grip, nearly cracking my back. She let me go and placed a kiss on my cheek and gave a sneaky pat on my backside. "Where's that lovely wife of yours?"

Tooky pointed a shaky finger toward the beach, "She's helping the band get set up. You know how much she likes the music."

"Hey Honey!" Micah called, carrying a box of bottles from the kitchen, his long braids hanging over his shoulders. He set them on the counter and pulled me in for a quick hug. He pointed at Tooky, "Thanks for helping mom out tonight. Holly doesn't do so well here during this time of year."

"Oh, I don't mind," I told him with a smile. I set a hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Besides, gives me something to do other than fix toilets all night."

Micah gestured to his uniform, "And you couldn't say no to the town sheriff, right? Cuz I'm so intimidating and all."

"Oh, Sheriff Builds-the-Fire, you are the only man in this town I both fear and admire."

"As it should be," Micah grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't much taller than me, and the fact that he looked almost exactly like his mother made him insecure at times. People didn't tend to take him seriously.

Micah pointed over to the corner of the bar and leaned in close enough to whisper, "Your boy's been here all day drinking his feelings. You might wanna check on him."

Sure enough, there was Rico in the corner hunched over a glass of whiskey. I could see the liquor in his eyes all the way from the bar, and I sighed before putting my stuff away in a locker in the kitchen, then made my way over to him.

He was drawing on a cocktail napkin, and even before I came up to the table I knew he was drawing a picture of Ernie. Rico had painted the mural of him outside Collie’s, and Ernie was the one who bought him his first sketch set. The two of them had the same crooked smirks, always together no matter what. Even when Ernie and I took over the inn for Mattie May, Rico would stop by every day for lunch just to hang out with his best friend.

I slid into the chair opposite him. He didn't bother to look up. "Do you need me to take you home, Rico?"

He shook his head slowly, "I'm doing just fine here, Honey."

I couldn't stand it, his standoffish pose. He was on the defensive, but I could never resist poking the bear. It was something Ernie loved about me, but it was something Rico became easily frustrated by.

"You should go home, get some sleep."

He finally looked up at me. His eyes were wet, red rimmed and exhausted. My shoulders sank with the weight of his gaze, and he knew it.

Rico swallowed thickly, "You gonna marry me?"

"Ric-."

"I didn't think so," he said softly, waving a hand. "I knew the first time I asked that you'd say no."

"I do love you, Rico. Okay? I'm just…." The words spilled out like a geyser, but it needed to be said. I was never going to marry him, no matter how much I wanted to just to make him happy. "I can't stand the thought of you hating me because of this."

“I don’t hate you,” he said earnestly, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Rico, I can’t have you mad at me because I don’t want to get married. I’m not ready to do it with anyone-.”

"I'm allowed to be mad,” he cut me off firmly. “I'm allowed to be upset, okay? I know it makes you feel guilty but… it can't be my problem if you're not going to marry me. I need to feel what I feel, too. You’re not the only one who’s sad and fucked up around here."

I looked down at my lap and nodded as the tears welled. My voice strained as I tried to keep myself together. "Yeah… I know."

Rico pushed his empty glass toward me, “Will you get me another?”

I got up on shaky legs and took it with a trembling hand, “I’ll have Vera bring it over.”

I didn't even know why I was so upset. I didn't want to marry Rico, and the only real reason we'd started up in the first place was because of a drunken night last year. We were both lost without Ernie, and the thought of having to go on without Rico as at least my friend killed me inside.

Turning on my heel, I made my way back to the bar, the glass hung loosely in my fingers. I pushed it across the bar where Vera had made her way to, cleaning a glass with a cloth. “Hey, Vera. Can you get Rico another one?”

She leaned on one leopard-printed hip and shook the washcloth at me, “You don’t wanna serve your boyfriend?”

I felt tears threaten to spill as I shook my head, “Can you just take care of him for me tonight?”

“Sure, Honey,” she said quietly. Vera filled the glass with Rico’s favorite, pressed a hand to my cheek as she passed and gave me a smile. Her bouncing blonde curls made me feel better, as did looking over just to see Tooky watching her backside with a lopsided grin.

I let out a breath and decided to take over for her, picking up a glass to clean. When I turned toward the door I nearly jumped out of my skin at Spencer Reid sitting on the other side of the counter with a cheeky smile and a wave.

“You, uh, you made it out Mr. Buzzkill,” I said shakily, trying to covertly sniffle. It didn’t work, and he squinted my way.

“Are you crying?” I waved a hand in front of my face and shook my head, but I couldn’t help glancing over to where Rico sat in the corner talking to Vera. Spencer twisted on his barstool enough to look at him with a furrowed brow and a frown.

“I’m fine,” I told him, and he turned back to look at me. His face told me he obviously didn’t believe me, but there was no way in hell I was going to talk to him about this stuff. “What can I get you?”

Spencer watched me for a moment, a pair of not-quite hazels searching me in an almost analytical way. He seemed to scan me and know in that moment that if he pushed me I was going to freak out, so he pulled out his wallet and a ten, then slid it toward me.

“Bourbon, neat,” he decided.

I pushed the bill back to him, “First one’s on me.”

“You know, nobody around here will let me pay for anything."

"You should take it and put it toward something fun like seeing the sights," I told him with a watery grin. I leaned over the bar and put my chin in my hands. "There's a lot of great places around here."

Spencer made a face and nodded, his gaze flicking down to my boobs. He made no effort whatsoever to disguise it and smirked like a cat, "I've got sights aplenty right here."

With that I snatched the ten and held it up for him to see, then stuffed it down my bra, "Just for that, I'm keeping this."

Spencer leaned back and laughed, "You earned it."

I poured Spencer his bourbon and made my rounds, waving hello to the people who came in. Nell ambled in after a bit, waving goodbye to Bernie before coming inside. Rose and Mattie May came up to the bar, trapping Spencer between them and Lonnie and Lloyd on the other. He conversed with them lightly, clinging to his bourbon like it was a lifeline, but I saw him eye the twins with caution.

Lonnie and Lloyd Evarts were fraternal twins who just…sucked. They were assholes, and I avoided them and their leering every chance I got. They drank as much as they wandered around town picking fights and bothering people.

Lonnie was the oldest by a few minutes, with a beer belly, rough gray speckled beard and greasy hair. Lloyd was tall and lanky, over a head taller than his brother, and liked to speak with a low creepy voice. They just liked to be a bother, so I got them their drinks and went on my way.

I sang along to the music as I worked, the band playing soft acoustic rock as the street lights came on and the hot sun turned into an only slightly cooler night. Sweat made its way under my arms under the heat of the lights and errant conversations, but I tried to keep myself busy and not focus on Rico.

Eventually, I couldn't really help myself. He just looked so damned lonely in the corner by himself. I poured some water into a big cup, ignoring Spencer's watchful gaze and pleading eyes to save him from Mattie May's questions and went over to Rico.

Setting the water in front of him, I slid into the chair next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He sighed heavily and met my gaze with a watery smile.

"Hey," I murmured, giving him a squeeze.

Rico licked his lips and chuckled, "Hey."

He covered my hand with his and returned my squeeze, "I think I need help getting home."

I leaned my chin on his shoulder and nodded, "I already called Micah. He's on his way."

Rico let out a long sigh and glanced up to where Spencer was sitting stiffly next to Lonnie and Lloyd. He waved a drunken hand that way, "My mom says he's really nice. He knew she was Basque just by her accent."

"She even brought him karouga," I told him playfully. "She might ditch your dad for him if you're not careful. Augustin is gonna be traded in for a new model."

Rico laughed quietly, slurring a bit, "She said the same thing about me and you. Said he may have eyes for you."

"Oh, well if Augustin is on the table I'll take him."

"You're sick."

I reached out to palm his chin and smile brightly. "You kinda look like him. Maybe that's why I think you're cute."

He groaned and pushed at me, "You're disgusting. I'm gonna throw up all over you if you don't shut up."

We laughed together for a moment, and it faded into us watching one another sadly. Twelve years of grief and friendship tied us together, Ernie the knot that kept it all from falling apart. I pressed my lips to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of smoke and sweat on his skin.

"Collie and Augustin would have been great grandparents," I whispered, and he nodded, his hand absentmindedly reaching out to palm my empty stomach. I placed my hand over his, "They still will be. You have time, Rico."

His fingers tensed, then released, his thumb rubbing circles for a few seconds before he pulled away. Rico ran a heavy hand over his face and let out a grunt that told me he was trying to contain his emotions. "We shouldn't have a serious conversation right now. I don't know if you know this, but I'm pretty drunk."

"Drink your water and we'll settle the tab."

It took a few minutes, and some spillage, but he finished it. Rico held out his hands like a child, and I took him by them both and hoisted him to his feet. A handful of wobbly strides later and I got him up to the bar between Lonnie and Spencer.

"Vera, can you settle his tab? Stick it on my card."

Rico set a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder, who stiffened up tightly from it. He leaned in close to drunkenly whisper to him, "How you likin' the town, hipster?"

"It's Spencer," he said slowly back, flinching away from Rico’s breath. "It's…fine. How's my car?"

Rose leaned back enough to tug on the back of my shirt for my attention, "Did you call Micah?"

"He's on his way." I swatted at Rico, who was leaning far too heavily on a stranger he didn't know or even like very much. "Rico, leave the man alone."

"'M being polite to your guest, Honey," he told me flippantly. I shook my head and gave Spencer an apologetic frown. "Your Jeep's got a lot of miles on it for the year. How long you been on the road, man?"

I spotted Lonnie smirking at me out of the corner of my eye, trying to catch my attention. I did my best to focus on the receipt for Rico’s frankly astonishing amount of drinks he'd had today.

"Two years. I've been just about everywhere," Spencer told him sheepishly, and he put a steadying hand on Rico’s chest to keep him from falling on him and out of my arms.

I signed the receipt and slid it back to Vera, but as I turned back to Rico and Spencer I felt an unfamiliar hand on my backside. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted Lonnie grinning at me with tobacco stained teeth.

"Back off, Lonnie," I snapped. When I pushed at his wrist, his grip only tightened. "Ow! Goddamnit, Lon-."

Rico twisted off my shoulder before I could stop him, ripping Lonnie's hand from my ass. Spencer got up sharply from his stool and stepped up next to him, his hand going for his belt.

Lonnie wasn't phased, and he ignored them completely. He loomed over me and cocked his head, his equally nasty brother standing behind him. "I hear Rico didn't knock you up. Lloyd and I are more than happy to step in, do what he can't."

"Back off, Lonnie," I urged, trying to keep Rico behind me. "Tonight's not the night."

"I think it's a perfect night," Lloyd sneered, grinning at me like the creep he was. "We'll show you a good time, Honey. Let you feel a real man for once."

"You boys better head home if you know what's good for you," Rose spoke up, and when I looked back he was up on his feet too.

“Mind your business, old man,” Lonnie snapped. I was closer to him than I ever wanted to be, stale beer and cigarettes washing over me as I struggled to keep Rico in place and standing. Lonnie knew that Rose and Rico had served, and both were certified badasses, but Lonnie and Lloyd both served too, and for some reason they thought that gave them the right to fuck around and not find out.

“I’m talkin’ to the lady here,” he continued, reaching a dirt stained hand out to push back my hair. I swatted him away but he wasn’t phased, nor by the sudden silence that overcame the bar. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and it was my least favorite feeling in the world.

“I don’t want to talk to you or your brother,” I told him in a low voice, hating to be the center of attention. “I’m taking Rico home. You two just enjoy your night.”

I pulled on Rico’s arm until he moved with me, staggering and glaring at the twins over his shoulder. We barely made it two steps before Lonnie called out again.

“Maybe I’ll find you one of those nights you’re walkin’ home alone, then, bitch!”

Fuck.

Rico turned on a dime, the droopy effect of alcohol reverting to fierce stupidity. I was caught between them, his chest against my back as he swung a heavy fist toward Lonnie. It connected with his cheek with a loud smack of Rico’s knuckles.

Everything seemed to explode in a millisecond.

Lonnie barely flinched through his own alcoholic haze, his fist barreling toward me before I could react. A blast of pain cracked across my vision, a bright haze of red and white bursting over my sight as my body twisted from the force, a sharp yelp bursting from my chest.

I hit the ground hard, my wrists and knees taking the impact. Yelling echoed in the back of my mind, the sounds of fists hitting flesh and broken glass. Hot blood dripped down my nose and chin as I struggled to blink back into focus. Somebody had their hands on my shoulders, which I feebly tried to push away.

The napkin Rico had drawn Ernie on lay on the floor beneath me, trickling droplets of iron red beading the surface before bleeding into the paper. Memories swirled in my mind as I gazed bleary eyed at a drawing of my dead husband. Blood and the whipping wind jerking my hair from my scalp… sharp lightning cracking and thunder booming around us… the sight of the love of my young life bleeding out in the ocean.

Then just as suddenly as it all began, it stopped.

I looked up cautiously to find Rico on his ass next to me, clutching his nose, but that wasn't what made my heart stop in my chest. It was Spencer.

Lloyd laid flat on his belly with Spencer's boot between his shoulder blades, struggling to get up. Lonnie's arm was twisted behind him and out, Spencer pinching between his thumb and his pointer finger with one hand, the other tangled into his hair.

"Get the fuck off me, man!" Lonnie snarled, but Spencer just twisted his arm further, earning a strangled yelp from the drunken asshole.

Mattie May and Rose both had their arms under my armpits, hoisting me to my feet. Hastily, I snatched the napkin from the floor and enclosed it in my fist. I could hear her speaking softly to me over the ringing in my ears, asking me if I'm alright. All I could focus on was him, and the shift in his body. It was like staring at a whole other person.

"Apologize," Spencer snapped, his dark eyes sharp and more focused than I'd ever seen. Even with a handful of drinks in him he was steady and strong, his grip unyielding. "Now."

“Fuck y- argggh!” Lonnie tried, but another sharp turn on his shoulder had him howling. “Okay, okay! I’m fuckin’ sorry, man!”

“Not to me, dumbass,” Spencer growled lowly. Keeping one foot on Lloyd’s back, he turned Lonnie to face me and my spurting nose and lip. “Apologize to her.”

“I’m… sorry,” Lonnie gritted out, but the burning hatred in his eyes told me he wasn’t, and that this wasn’t over.

“Alright!” Micah’s voice sounded out as he sauntered into the bar, and all turned to him. His weathered hands planted on his hips as he glowered down at the Evarts brothers. “That’s enough, boys. Head home.”

Rose pushed me gently behind him as Spencer released the twins. They both got to their feet rubbing their shoulders and scowling at me. Micah knew me well enough that I wasn’t going to press charges, so he waved them out of the bar and went for Rico.

“I’m guessing I have him to thank for this escalation?” Micah grunted as he bent down. He and Rose looped their arms under his and pulled him to his feet as he tried in vain to quell some of the blood flow.

“Yeah. I’ll help you get him to the car,” Rose replied gruffly. He kissed Mattie May on her cheek and I avoided the sight painfully as they drug Rico out of the bar.

“Honey, lemme look at ya,” Mattie May urged, tugging on my jaw. When I wouldn’t turn she instead twisted in front of me, slightly obscuring my view of Spencer.

I watched him and his reddened cheeks, the way his hands started to shake now that the fight was over. I watched him watching me back even as he snagged his bourbon off the bar and downed it in one go.

“I’m fine,” I muttered. She ignored me, as did Vera and Tooky, poking and prodding around. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t seem to look away from Spencer. He couldn’t look away either, it seemed, just gazed at me with a deep bone aching sadness and shame I’m sure reflected in my own eyes.

Another squeeze down my arm, a sharp rocketing pain that burst through my wrist. It was enough to drag me away from Spencer Reid, my angry gaze flicking to Mattie May, “Ow! Goddamnit!”

“Let’s get you some ice, Honey,” she replied quickly, her former nurses’ training kicking in. Before I knew it I was being dragged around the bar and into the kitchen, but when I looked over my shoulder Spencer hadn’t moved his gaze from me, but something had changed.

The sadness had switched to grief, and a little bit of fear.

The world spun as the girls pulled Honey into the kitchen. Spencer watched helplessly as the door swung shut, his body shaking and too stiff all at the same time.

Is this who I am now?

He could see her through the window, see that she was okay and talking. One of the women blotted her nose with a dish rag as Mattie May pulled out a first aid kit. Spencer leaned against the bar for support, but he was certain if he looked away from Honey he would crumple into a ball of tears.

Spencer was an idiot, reacting like that. The first sign of trouble and his training kicked in, that old familiar chivalry he’d thought he left behind on a cool DC morning as he skipped town like a ghost. He saw Lonnie and Lloyd, looking too much like the men he’d met in his work, and worst of all…

He saw Honey, frightened and too hard-headed for her own good to not back down from a fight she couldn’t win. You can’t win against men like that, people with their minds made up… and all he saw for a moment was Maeve with Lonnie’s fist heading right at her. His agent training burst out of him without permission, and the next thing he knew it was like after prison again, stopping some asshole from messing with Tara… when he was out of control and pissed off at the world.

Is this who I am now?

A heavy hand on his shoulder made him flinch and duck, turning sharply to find Rose looking at him with his dark eyes. Spencer’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breath struggling to return to normal. Rose motioned to the barstools in front of them, pretending as though he didn’t notice.

“Sit down, son.”

With a shaking hand, Spencer took a deep breath and pulled out a stool. He slid onto the cool leather and gripped the bar while Rose went around the other side. He pulled a bottle from the bar wall and poured him another drink, then pushed it toward him. Spencer snatched it like a man dying of thirst and poured it down his throat.

"It's a good thing you did, taking over like that."

Another deep breath, count to five, let it out.

"Bar fights are a dime a dozen. Don't worry too much about it. Lonnie and Lloyd aren't stupid enough to press charges."

The glass barely had the chance to hit the bar again before Rose poured him another. Spencer lifted it to his lips, just moments away from temporary salvation in the arms of liquor when he spoke again.

“Ex-con or cop?”

His only reprieve from the world hung mid air, just out of reach of his mouth as Spencer stared shell-shocked at him. “What?”

“Mattie May says you didn’t serve, but you don’t like fireworks.” A quirk of his heavy brow told Spencer he wasn’t getting out of this one. “Your hand went straight for your belt, like you were reaching for a gun. You got that haunted look in your eyes like a man who's seen some things. You didn’t serve so… ex-con or cop?”

Spencer swallowed thickly. The cool beads of condensation from his bourbon trickled down his hand and wrist. Rose sighed, “Nobody’s judging here, son. We welcome all kinds in this town, as you’ve surely noticed.”

Is this who I am now? What would ever be the right answer to that question? Both. Neither.

Spencer’s heart weighed a thousand pounds as he stared painfully back at Rose. Licking his lips to prepare himself, his jaw quivered. His voice shook as he admitted for the first time in years, “FBI. Almost twenty years.”

Rose didn’t say anything about that, but the slight twitch that etched across his weathered features told Spencer everything he needed to know about his thoughts. Really? You? How could someone like you be capable of such a thing?

“Thank you for your service,” he said instead.

“Don’t,” Spencer replied.

He downed his drink, pushed it forward for another. Rose obliged, tipping the spout over the rim. Spencer found himself looking once more to the kitchen window, his eyes sliding over without much thought. Honey seemed pissed off as ever, glaring at something in her hand as Mattie May wrapped her wrist with an Ace bandage. The distinct swell of a coming bruise tattooed across her cheek and lip, her nose red from cleaning blood away.

“She’s fine,” Rose’s voice came through, tearing his gaze away. “Honey’s taken harder hits than that.”

"Her husband?" Spencer asked, a bit unsure of such a bold question. "That why she wears that ring?"

Rose scratched his chin as he thought. His eyes wandered around the bar, seeing who was close. When he was satisfied nobody would hear, he leaned on his elbows on the bar. "You know, Honey don't look like it, but she grew up catching lobster on a boat off the East Coast."

"How'd she end up so far from home?"

"I don't know specifics," Rose muttered with a shrug. "Her daddy was a real religious type. Made it clear one day she could live there with his rules as gospel, or leave. She left, hitchhiked until she met Mattie May at a truck stop on her way home from visiting her sister."

A sweet genuine smile stretched across his cheeks, "She brought her to town. Honey met Ernesto. It was…instant. They just fell in love like that."

Sigue viviendo, Ernesto, Spencer remembered, thinking back to the mural outside Collie’s.

"Yeah, those two were something else. Before she came along, Rico, Holly Henson, and Ernie were just three boys who came back from Iraq with hell to raise. They were wild. Honey walked in one day and those boys all turned into men. She showed them they could be more than haunted."

Spencer couldn't help but squint at his words, glaring at Rose as he downed his fourth shot in as many minutes. Rose dutifully poured him another, continuing on, "They all loved the water, fishing. Honey trained in water rescue back in the day, and she still went out when they needed her. Ernie and Honey would go on these week long trips up and down the coast. Ernie used to wear his ring on a chain around his neck so it wouldn't get lost.

"One day they didn't come back on time," Rose said, and this time it was his eyes that became haunted. They traveled back to a time Spencer couldn't see, remembering something he didn't know.

"They got caught in a storm, a big one that came outta nowhere. They tried to get control of the boat, but a lightning bolt hit the deck, blew the damned thing into pieces."

The breath caught in his chest, Spencer's body subconsciously leaning forward as he found himself wrapped up in the story. He could hear Honey griping about being left alone, but it all seemed so far away.

Rose sighed, his dark heavy gaze landing on Spencer's once more. "Some tourists found her a few days later holding onto a piece of driftwood. She was holding his body to her by that chain with his wedding ring on it. Hers had slipped off in the waves."

Spencer looked over to the kitchen window once more. Sure enough that ring hung around her neck. She fiddled with it as she stared dead eyed at what looked like a napkin, rolling it between her fingers.

"She brought my Ernie home to me," Rose spoke quietly, earning Spencer's undivided attention once more.

"He was your son." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, he was a good egg." An unspoken declaration of devotion from a man going through unimaginable pain.

"Goddamnit, I'm fine!" Honey snarled, stomping her way out of the kitchen. It seemed to be her favorite word. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

The door swung behind her like a dog's wagging tail. She squinted at Spencer and Rose as she came out, but Rose reached out a hand for her bicep, pulling her back to him.

He tapped her chin, "That's a good shiner, kid."

Honey's scowl morphed into a slow chuckle. She shook her head and pulled away from him with a big grin, "You're a dick."

Mattie May made her way out of the kitchen next, inching her way back into the main room as if she was a bit fearful of Honey’s wrath. Her arms made their way around Rose's waist as she watched her flit back around the tables.

"Will you stay with her? Help her close up and drive her home?" Mattie May asked Rose softly. "I don't like the idea of her alone after what Lonnie said."

"Yeah, but you know Honey. She's gonna growl at me all night about it."

Spencer's mouth opened before he could think to stop it, "I could drive her home so Mattie May doesn't have to go by herself."

Both of them turned surprised to an equally surprised Spencer, but they were far more amused.

"Boy, I know you've had more drinks than the five I poured you," Rose told him sternly. "I wouldn't trust you to drive a stationary bike right now."

"Well, that is true," Spencer replied, realizing in embarrassment the slur of his voice. "She can drive me home. There's no way I'm finding my way back to the inn by myself anyway."

They looked at one another, seemingly having one of those silent conversations couples do when they've been together long enough. Not so funnily, he used to have similar ones with the BAU.

"Okay. You two be careful, though," Mattie May smiled. "Gets pretty dark around here at night on the beach. There ain't many streetlights."

"Will do," Spencer replied. He saluted her with his drink and polished it off, welcoming the amber gold and the edge it took off with it.

He vaguely registered Rose asking Honey to drive him home, focused on drowning his feelings in his bourbon. After a few more hours, the patrons shuffled out. The old woman behind the bar and the pretty blonde left before closing time, and eventually it was just him and Honey alone.

She ignored him mostly, avoiding his gaze as Spencer tried to avoid hers. She made her way behind the bar, pulling out trash bags and tying them off.

"You didn't have to do that, y’know," she muttered, and when he looked up she was watching him through her lashes. Her cheeks flushed a dark pink, only making her bruise look darker.

It was already blotching purple, and by the morning it would turn black and blue. Part of her lip had split, and god help him, it pissed Spencer off more than anything.

"I can take a punch, Mr. Dreary," she said when he didn't reply. She pointed at his glass. "You didn't need to do that. You obviously didn't want to."

"Oh, I wanted to."

Her hand reached out, fingers loosely grabbing the tumbler. She twisted it for a moment and bit her bottom lip as she thought. "He was trying to hit Rico and missed. He's a drunk asshole."

"No, he wasn't." Spencer told her. Honey's brows twitched, but she didn't say anything. "He may be a drunk asshole, but he aimed right for you in a place that would bleed the most and bruise the worst. I'm sure he's had plenty of practice accidentally punching women."

"And you know so much about that?" she challenged, stubborn as ever. "He's all bark and no bite."

"I know more about it than I'd like." Spencer's own hand found its way across the bar, clasping around her good wrist. "I've seen hundreds of Lonnie's. They seem all bark and no bite, but they're impulsive. Especially when they're angry. When he said he'd wait for you to walk home alone one night, he meant it. He'd have no problem finding you and raping you in the street before leaving you there."

Her jaw clenched tightly, but she nodded with tears in her eyes. Honey cleared her throat and held up one of the trash bags, "You might as well make yourself useful. Dumpster’s through the kitchen."

Spencer slid his hand from her and got to his feet. He rounded the bar and took it from her hands, his legs more than a bit unsteady.

"You okay?" she asked quietly, watching him nervously.

"I might be on my knees painting the inside of the toilet later," he told her with a watery lopsided grin, "but I'll be fine."

Her laugh was all he needed to walk away from her, smiling to himself. She chucked quietly behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. It was dark, illuminated only by the red light of the EXIT sign. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he passed through the hot room, still emanating heat from the hours of serving up burgers and fish fry to the patrons.

The night was only a few degrees cooler as Spencer pushed open the heavy back door and stepped into the alley. It reeked of stale beer, piss, and sand, making his nose curl up. He tossed the bag into the dumpster, the bottles inside hitting the inside with a loud clang.

He gripped the slatted wall for support as he turned inside. His legs didn’t want to cooperate along the shifting sands, his veins mostly alcohol by now. Tugging the door back open, he stepped back inside into the glowing red blanketing the kitchen.

"Get away from me!" Honey's voice came from the bar area.

Spencer's body kicked into gear, his hand going to his belt for a gun that wasn't there. His badge wasn't either, and he was drunk. Old familiar instincts blazed to life, his ears picking up on a shuffling to his right. Spencer turned just in time to see the business end of a baseball bat coming toward his face.

It connected with his nose, the fragile cartilage cracking under the force. Spencer was swept off his feet with the impact, landing hard on his ass on the concrete. The bat came down again as Honey screamed in the other room.

Blinking blearily through the pain, Spencer's foot shot out, his boot catching the side of his assailant's knee. The man screeched in pain and collapsed, clutching his kneecap and howling

"Oh fuck, Lonnie!" he cried out, and Spencer recognized him in the dark. It was Lloyd Evarts.

The swinging door flung open and in came the bastard Lonnie himself, dragging Honey in by her hair. Fresh blood dripped down her nose under the red lights, and he tossed her to the ground before swinging a heavy foot out. It caught Spencer in the ribs, his movements slow with the alcohol and stun of the hit to the face.

“Take that, you piece of shit!”

Lonnie kicked him again, and again. Spencer tried to swing out his fist, but caught nothing but air. Lloyd was on his feet in Spencer's drowsy haze, stomping down on his shoulder and side as he tried in vain to get up from the floor.

If he didn't get up, he'd probably die.

The unmistakable rack of a shotgun ran ice water through his veins. He couldn’t see Honey, couldn’t find a way to pick himself up to get her the hell out of here. What an embarrassing way to die for who he used to be… shot on a cold floor in a town he didn’t know or like, trying stupidly to protect a girl he didn’t want to be attracted to.

The gun blasted out with a loud boom! that rattled the kitchen. Spencer braced for the all-too familiar feel of bullets in his flesh, but they didn’t come. Instead a loud howling ripped through the room through the ringing in his ears.

Another pump of the gun, the clattering of a spent shell casing petering across the concrete. The gun went off again, followed by the screech of a wounded animal. The blows stopped battering his drunken body, shuffling feet and screams echoing around him.

“Let’s go! Go, go, go!” Lonnie’s voice cried out, followed by them scrambling out the door.

Spencer rolled onto his back, vaguely registering the gun hitting the ground. All the fight was gone, and he was just a pair of black eyes. The EXIT sign glowed ominously above him, the acrid smell and copper taste of blood in his mouth. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, sure that it must be broken.

“Spencer,” a soft voice came, full of tears and worry.

A shadow moved in front of the sign, dark and surrounded by the red light. Soft dark hair glimmered even in the darkness, and Spencer reached a bruised hand up to run his fingers through it. He palmed her cheek, his breath catching in his chest as his brain struggled to remember where he was.

“Spencer, stay awake,” the voice said again. “I’m going to get some help.”

It was so quiet, shrouded in darkness and mystery. Familiar, but where was he again? He didn’t know. He didn’t really care, either. His thumb ran across her cheekbone, a slight hiss of pain escaping lips he couldn’t see. Her skin was warm, the fresh scent of saltwater and sweat washing over him. All he wanted was a hug, someone to hold him until he felt better.

“Spencer, can you hear me?”

“Maeve?”

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Notes: PLEASE tell me what you think... Also, what do you think is going to happen next?

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