The air was thick with tension at the crime scene—blood on the walls, grief hanging in the corners like dust. She stood quietly, jotting notes, her fresh badge still catching stares from local officers. Spencer Reid was nearby, observing everything, but subtly watching her too. She was new—bright, careful, maybe too soft for this kind of work. But she held her ground.

Until the victim’s brother stormed in, face red, heartbroken and furious. “You think this is just another case to you?” he barked. She opened her mouth to explain, gently, but the man’s hand struck before she could finish.

The sound of the slap cracked through the silence. Her head turned with the force, cheek blooming red.

Before she could react, Spencer was already between them—jaw tight, eyes flashing, hand out like a barrier. “Touch her again,” he said, voice low and dangerously calm, “and I’ll have you charged with assaulting a federal agent.”

The man backed down, muttering apologies, grief collapsing into guilt.

She blinked, still stunned. Spencer turned to her, voice softer now. “Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly.

They were coworkers. Nothing more. But the way he looked at her then—it was protective, personal, and something quietly powerful.