A/N: I do not own Criminal Minds, I only own my OFC!

Before he'd headed out the door Morgan had stopped him to ask him what fabulous weekend adventure he was off to. He'd said it sarcastically but he had no idea. . . Reid had replied he was off to Las Vegas.

He'd cringed a little bit when JJ and Garcia ooh'd over from Derek's desk, they thought he was going to see his mom.

Not like he hadn't tried, he really did. . .

Now he was at a blackjack table at the Mirage twirling a tumbler of scotch, his head swimming in the sea of lights, and counting cards. At least the alcohol helped him numb his headaches, he couldn't find anything more. . .

Spencer felt guilty. He couldn't bring himself to pass the threshold of the Asylum his mother was at. They called it a 'Permanent Care Facility' but Spencer could never bullshit his inner voice, he knew what it really was.

He must've been playing for a few hours, but who knows there are no clocks in mourning or Las Vegas.

At the same time it felt like forever ago and yesterday since Emily had died. His heart was broken. He'd lost a friend, confidante, a sister or sorts, and what felt like his heart. This is why he'd never gotten close with anyone. When you get close you get hurt. Oh, and he hadn't gotten to say goodbye. .

"Sir, sir. . . Sir!"

The dealers calls brought him back out of thought and into the realm of reality.

"Sir would you like to hit or would you like to stay?" the dealer repeated.

Spencer blinked behind his sunglasses, and took about twenty seconds to assess the cards on the table. His head spun with neon, alcohol, and migraine.

He looked down at his own cards wearily. Nineteen. He was actually surprised that he wasn't in a chair in the backroom bleeding with some Goon telling him to stop counting cards at the Mirage, tonight he'd gotten a little sloppy and he hadn't lost as many rounds as he normally sprinkled in to keep his trail cold. Spencer pocketed like, two grand or so, then pushed the huge stack of chips he accumulated forward.

"Hit me," Spencer said into his glass, downing the rest of his drink.

"You sure you wanna hit on nineteen? You've had a few, ya know-" the dealer was trying to due him a kindness.

"Hit me," he repeated, getting up from the table, he took two hundred dollar chips out of his pocket and slid them forward. "That's for you," he continued, gesturing at the dealer, then turned and walked away.

Spencer meandered over to the elevator and pressed the up button. While he waited he tried to let his mind go blank, the drinks would prove helpful in this department.

The elevator chimed it's arrival. When the doors opened Spencer waited for the group to exit then took a long stride inside. Tapping his foot he waited impatiently to get back up to his room and probably obliterate the minibar's supply of little bottles.

The muzak started playing and the door began to slide shut, when. . .

"Wait! Please hold the door!" A woman's voice shouted, as the owner of it came running toward the elevator.

Reid snapped to, leaning forward and stopping the door from closing.

He could see the woman much better now. She stepped through the doors, exceedingly beautiful, but askew. Her long hair was teased out a little bit, so dark it was almost black, and she had a smear of body glitter here and there.

She looked at him with her icy blue eyes and a smirk hung on her pouty lips, which opened then when she said, "Thanks."

"No problem," Spencer mumbled, looking down at his Chucks.

When she leaned forward to press her button he snuck a peak up the back side of her, and almost got caught when she realized he had already pressed the button.

"Looks like we're on the same floor," she said brightly, looking over her shoulder at him and smiling.

"Yeah," Reid mumbled, wincing at how cold he sounded. He didn't mean to, the mix of how tipsy he and her prettiness put him on edge.

She shoved a hand into her pocket and waited as the elevator began to move.

He may not have been at the top of his observational game, but he noticed a familiar mark on her arm, and the dance that her fingers were doing in her pocket.

The doors opened on their floor and Spencer gestured towards the doors.

"Ladies first," He grinned.

The girl smiled back at him and sashayed suggestively forward.

Spencer's breath hitched and he followed after her into the hallway and realized that her room must be next to his.

He stopped at his door and reached inside his jacket for his wallet, flipping it open and filing through it for his key. Looking over his shoulder, Spencer realized that she was one door down from him on the opposite side of the hall.

Reid turned and called to her, "Hey, do you, maybe by any chance want to have a drink with me?"

She turned her head in return, her long dark locks spilling over her shoulder.

"Oh-uh, I don't think so. . ." she said hesitantly, giving him a comical frown.

"Oh y-yeah, ok. I get it," Spencer surrendered, turning back to his door and opened it.

"Hey-" She called out hesitantly, now inside her own door looking out at him.

"Yeah?" He looked up at her, his sunglasses having slid down a bit, he squinted in the light.

She paused a moment and drummed her fingernails on the doorframe, ". . . you party?" the girl asked cautiously.

Reid looked at her laughing, "Party? Uh, yeah, I guess. . . I party."

"Cool," she breathed, closing her door.