Genre/Warnings: AU, Crossover
Summary: Spencer finds letters addressed to him from NYC.
Disclaimer: I don't own either fandom, I'm just playing with the characters.
Author's Note: This is an entry for the crossover contest over at crimeland. The two fandoms are Criminal Minds and Beauty and the Beast, the tv show. I hope y'all like this! There will be a part two, so keep a watchful eye out for it! Reviews are loved and cherished!
"For the life of me, I can not remember where I put that thing!"
Spencer hid his growing smile behind his hand. His Aunt Diane had been trying in vain for the past thirty minutes to find her cookbook. She had decided on a spur of the moment to make some of her Grandma Sue's old favorites: meatloaf, her "vegetable delight", and pineapple upside-down cake. But she, unlike his late grandmother, didn't know the recipes by heart. His aunt paused in her search and turned to look at him. He was sitting on her bed and quickly tried his best to look innocent. Not one to be fooled, she arched an eyebrow. And ordered, "You, my dear nephew, could get off your rump and help me look."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied at once, standing. "I'll go search in the attic."
She nodded and went back to ransacking her bookshelf. He made his way up to the attic and let out a grunt of displeasure. Summertime in Las Vegas had turned the attic into an oven. After just fifteen minutes, he was already dripping with sweat. As he was turning to go back to his aunt empty handed, he tripped over a box. He hissed as his shin exploded with pain and he fell on the dusty floor. He began to sneeze as dust invaded his senses. Rubbing at his watery eyes, he looked at the seed of his discomfort. He frowned when he saw NYC scrawled on the sides. Catherine Chandler, his aunt's younger sister and his mother, had lived in New York, where she was kidnapped and murdered by a gangster named Gabriel. While she was his captive, she had given birth to Spencer. His aunt and uncle had feared they would never see him, but the detective assigned to his mother's case didn't stop until she found Gabriel. When Spencer was recovered, the police couldn't find his father, so he was given to his aunt and uncle.
Spencer had seen many photos and heard several stories about his mother, but all of her things were kept in a storage unit. He unfolded the flaps of the box and peeked inside. His confusion deepened when he saw several bundles of envelopes and gift-wrapped packages. He picked up one of the bundles and his eyes widened in shock. The letters were addressed to him! Further inspection showed that each envelope was numbered. He searched in a frenzy until he found the bundle with the first letter. Tugging it loose, he took a deep breath before opening the letter.
The paper inside was thick and heavy, almost like parchment. The writing, he quickly determined, was decidedly male. The words written took the breath from his lungs.
My dearest son,
I hope someday you read these words. Your aunt has promised to keep my letters until you're older, and I can only hope she keeps her word.
As I write this letter, you are three months old. Your aunt sent me pictures of you. My God, you are so beautiful. I can't help but curse Fate that you and I were robbed of your mother. I find myself imagining what it would have been like, the two of us raising you. I'm thankful you took after her. I would not wish my deformity on my worst enemy, let alone you, my child.
I hope that one day we can meet. I'm sure your aunt will tell you endless stories about your mother, but I have stories as well. I loved her very much, just as I love you.
As Spencer finished the letter, he took a shuttering breath that quickly changed into a sob. His mind was swimming with questions, accusations, hurt, anger, joy, confusion...he didn't know which to concentrate on first.
"Spencer? I found the cookbook, honey, you can come back down!"
Somehow he managed to make it back downstairs. His aunt stood at the base of the stairs. Her look of triumph quickly changed when she saw the letter in his hand. He lifted it higher and choked out, "Y-you knew about my fa-father?"
One of her hands moved to clutch her locket around her neck, the cookbook slipping from her other hand. She stood there, her mouth flapping like a fish out of water, with no words coming forth. Anger building inside him, Spencer stormed back into the attic and retrieved the box. He grunted and huffed from the bulk of it, slowly making his way down the stairs and elbowing past her.
“Sp-spencer,” she finally spoke, trailing after him, “I can ex-explain.”
“I should hope so!” he snapped as he entered her bedroom, dropping the box. The loud crash caused her to shutter. He dropped the first letter back into the box, the paper now wrinkled from his grip, and shouted, “Why? I can't believe you kept this from me!”
“Spencer, you don't understand!” she cried, sitting down on her bed. “Your father...where he lives, how he looks...your uncle and I thought that it was too much for a child to handle.”
Spencer frowned at that, remembering his father words: ”I would not wish me deformity...”. He sat down at the end of the bed. When his aunt tried to move closer, he shook his head and said shortly, “Just...explain.”
She nodded and took a deep breath before beginning.
“I didn't learn about your father until after your mother became pregnant,” she explained. “I could tell through her letters and our phone conversations that something has changed. I tried to get her to tell me what it was, but she never would.”
Her hand moved back toward her neck, where her silver locket hung. Spencer knew that the locket held a picture of his mother. She sniffed, “Even with my suspicions, I was more than a little shocked when I found she was pregnant. When I asked about who the father was, she became quiet. I was afraid she had had a one night stand, but she assured me that wasn't the case. She just asked me to come to New York, said it would be easier that way.”
She looked at him for a moment and he felt as though she was looking at him but seeing someone else. She shook her head and continued, “Your father is extremely different from us. His “difference” causes him to live underneath the city in the sewer system.”
“Is that why you kept me from him?” he asked, an edge still in his voice.
She nodded. “After that detective found you, your uncle and I rushed to New York to collect you. One night, while I was packing your mother's apartment, your father appeared. He wanted to know where you were. I told him I had your uncle take you back to Las Vegas. When he tried to protest, I insisted that a sewer was no place for a child to grow up. So we made the agreement that he could write you and I would give you the letters when you were older.”
Spencer wrapped his arms around himself and took a few deep breathes. He wanted to believe in his aunt's good intentions, but he couldn't surpress the feelings of hurt and betrayal at being kept from his father. He let go of his midsection after a moment and stood. Bending down, he picked up the box and headed towards the door.
He stopped and turned just in time to see a tear slide down her cheek. She was still clutching her locket as she cried softly, “I'm not asking you to not be angry with me. I'm just asking for your understanding. You were all I had left of Catherine. I didn't want to lose you.”
His throat tightened and he simply nodded before heading to his room. It was was barely after noon when he began reading the letters and even with his accelerated reading, it wasn't until midnight when he finally finished the most recent letter. They were like a walk down memory's lane, mentioning all of his accomplishments and praising each and every one. He felt exhausted but at the same time wide awake. He shuffled over to his desk and grabbed a legal pad and a pen. After an hour and a half and five restarts, he was pleased with his finished letter.
It took me thirty minutes to decide on that simple greeting. I had started my first draft with your name, but I decided since I wanted to use “Dad” all of my childhood, why not start now?
I just finished reading all of your letter and opened all my gifts. The books are all amazing and first editions! I don't know how you found them, but I'm glad you did. I really want to meet you. I don't have to be back to college until late August. Perhaps I could travel up to New York for a visit?
Aunt Diane says you look very different, but I don't care about that. I spent all of my childhood, wanting parents like other kids. I don't care if you look like the Elephant Man, you're my father. Write back as soon as you get this.
Next : Part Two
A/N- Reviews are yummy like chocolate chip cookies! Thank you for reading!