A/N: This story is an Angel/Buffy/Criminal Minds Crossover.
A/N2: Thanks to Touch of the Wind for reading over this chapter, and helping me out with it ;}
Disclaimer: Buffy/Angel and all its characters belong to Joss Whedon and Criminal Minds belongs to Jeff Davis. I own nothing. O.O
Summary: Connor moves to Virginia after 'NFA' abandoning the normal life Angel tried to give him. While there he meets the timid FBI agent Spencer Reid and feels an immediate attraction to him, but what will happen when a series of murders occur, all the bodies drained of blood. And what will Connor do when Spencer begins to search for the truth?
Rating: T/ PG-13 maybe R later on.
Warnings: Slash- don't like it, don't read.
Pairing: Spencer Reid/Connor Angel.Amazing banner by Touch of the Wind! ^-^ I love it! And is it just me or does Connor look very hot in that picture? He looks sad, but some how still hot ;}
Connor lunged forward attempting to stab the reptilian demon in the chest, but was instantly blocked, and thrown against the brick wall with a cry. Quickly recovering, he tried again, but was caught off guard as the scaly demon brought down his long metallic claws, and slashed him across the stomach.
Connor cried out in pain, as he sank to the ground, but not before he grabbed hold of one of the claws, and ripped it from the demon's grotesquely long fingers, eliciting a roar of agony from the demon. Forgetting his pain for a moment when no attack came, he looked up, only to find that the demon was making a hasty retreat away from him. Connor still clutching the obscene claw, groaned. Stuffing it inside the pocket if his jeans, he placed his hand over his bleeding abdomen, where he was now marked with four deep gashes, all lined up within an inch of each other.
Slowly rising to his feet, he stumbled as he tried to control the intense burning he felt in his gut. Finally gaining his balance he made his way from the alley, wanting more than anything to crash onto the bed in his new apartment, fall asleep, and totally forget the world for eight hours of his life.
Keeping to the edge of the sidewalk, next to the buildings, he tried to walk as normal as possible as to not draw attention to his injury, the last thing he wanted was to go to the hospital, he healed way too quickly for there not to be questions, and really was in no mood to have to sneak out later on. After all, all Connor had to do, was clean, and dress his wounds, and they would undoubtedly heal within the coming morning, leaving behind four pink scars that would fade rapidly like all the others. The only scars he had were from a rather large, more brutal demon he'd fought in Quor'toth that had bit him on the shoulder, releasing its burning venom into his veins, taking him months to heal completely.
Connor stilled, leaning his head on a building, letting his eyes flutter closed momentarily. Things hadn't been going Connor's way recently. His head just wasn't in the game anymore like it used to be, he blamed the memory altering for that, but he had a feeling that whatever was wrong with him, was his fault, not the fault of the deal his father made in a moment of pure desperation.
He was still furious at Angel for forcing him to leave L.A. when the big battle went down. He could've helped, no matter how weak his new memories made him, he could always fight, because that's what he was made to do, and he was damn good at it. Besides Angel had needed all the help he could get.
He dropped out of Stanford, he couldn't take pretending to be normal twenty-four/seven, he could keep up the façade for a little while, but doing it every hour of every day began to take a toll on him. He wasn't Connor Riley, he never really was that boy with the happy go lucky attitude, with a hint of sarcasm and smart-assed comments, and he feared that his mask would slip, only to be replaced with Connor Angel, a boy forced to grow up far too quickly for his own need to survive, a boy with dark thoughts, and violent urges, and the intense desire to help people who were in need.
The battle was over, but he had barely spoken two words to Angel since that night, only checking in to see if he was okay, and for the most part Angel was, though he was badly injured, he made a full recovery in only a few months time. Angel still called him, even though Connor never answered, he knew Angel was worried, but then again that's all he ever seemed to do was worry, and he had a right to considering he had no idea where Connor was at the moment. But it didn't matter, Connor couldn't deal with Angel right now, it wasn't like Angel could actually drag him home if, or when he ever found him. He was nineteen, not even his fake family that by law had rights to him could even do that, though his father Laurence had threatened when he found out he quit college.
Because like Angel was all about worrying, and 'the good fight', Laurence was all about school, and how college was important to make something out of yourself, and not be worthless. And if you didn't have a college education then that's exactly what you were; worthless.
Connor didn't care about school though. Sure he'd enjoyed majoring in Psychology, but really the more he thought about it, the more it made him realize all the things that were wrong with him, that and the class made him feel like he was underneath a microscope with all the other students, and the teacher watching him intensely, just waiting for him to slip up and show them what a freak he really was.
"Hey," Connor heard, snapping him out of his reverie immediately, "Are you okay?"
Connor inwardly groaned, cringing at the thought of an ambulance rushing its way towards him this late at night. It would be hard to explain why he was healing before their eyes- he could already feel the slight prickling that came with his rapid healing.
"I'm fine," he said, addressing the voice of the unknown speaker, not daring to turn around to look at the person, for fear of exposing his stomach wound.
"Then why are you supporting yourself against a brick wall?" the voice asked, sounding timid, and slightly awkward to Connor's ears.
Connor sighed, "I don't know, maybe I'm drunk," he supplied, with a bit of sarcasm to his tone.
"I highly doubt that," he man behind him said.
Connor turned his head slightly so he could see the supposed 'concerned citizen' who was bothering him. He was tall, about six three, very thin, with long light brown hair that came several inches below his chin, and he appeared to be in his early twenties, and when Connor looked upon him he realized that he actually did seem concerned.
"Look, thanks for the uh, concern, but I'm fine, really," Connor repeated his thoughts, though once they fell from his lips they felt weak, and unconvincing.
The man began to walk towards him, and Connor tensed, still not one hundred-percent sure of his true motives, the man seemed to sense this and slowly raised his hands to show that he was harmless, Connor relaxed a little at this.
"My name is Spencer Reid; I'm with the FBI so if you're hurt in any way I can get you to a hospital," Spencer introduced himself and Connor huffed at the dreaded 'H' word, finally turning around.
"Dude, I am going to be fine and FBI or not, I am not going to the hospital, I just need to get home, and what the hell is an FBI agent doing creeping around the mouths of alleys in the middle of the night?" Connor questioned.
Spencer's eyes widened momentarily once he saw Connor's blood soaked shirt, letting them linger there a second longer before meeting his gaze with Connor's. The agent had the most beautiful eyes Connor had ever seen in his life, they were brown, with flecks of gold, almost looking as if they were coated in honey, and Connor stared at them unblinking, before he caught himself, and looked away.
"You've been stabbed, you have to get some form of medical treatment," Spencer insisted.
Connor merely rolled his eyes at this, if only he knew… he thought detachedly. "I'm okay, look Agent Reid, I really, really need to be going as you can see, obviously, so… thanks for I don't know, trying to help me," he said, as he began to walk away.
"Wait!" Spencer called after him. Connor stopped, turning his head to peer over his at him.
"What's your name?"
Connor gave a half smile, "Connor."
And with that he walked away as fast as he could without his abdomen aching too badly, all the while contemplating his bad luck, the scaly demon he encountered, and the FBI agent with the golden dusted eyes.
-~- A/N: First slash fic, I'm excited about it. :] So, how am I doing so far?