|seeley booth (hates_clowns) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2010-03-18 21:14:00
|Entry tags:||drusilla, seeley booth|
Who: Booth and Dru
What: Booth may not be FBI anymore, but old habits die hard.
When: Not long after the news broadcast. night time.
Where: the orphanage in the city.
Warnings: unpleasantness. Possible violence, it is not-Angel
daddy and Dru psycho vampire
Love quizzes. He was wasting his time with love quizzes on a computer that meant nothing anyways because Bones wasn't even there. Not that he'd be admitting that out loud any time soon, but why did he even bother really? In the back of his mind he kept thinking that quiz was something she'd make him do, or maybe Sweets. And so he had, but neither of them were there to even share the results with. And now..kids were killed. And somehow it made it worse that they were orphans. Booth knew he wasn't on active FBI status in this world, but he knew all about FBI protocol well enough to bullshit it to buy him some time to look around (if anyone was even there when he arrived) and not compromise a crime scene. Anxiously he waited for the sun to set and the media circus to end. He passed the time by pacing his apartment with a scowl set on his face as if in stone, and loaded his gun, then paced some more.
Neck injuries. Vampires. Demons. Hellgods. He knew very little about each of the above, but that didn't stop his hero complex from kicking into over drive. Kids didn't deserve to die. They were innocent victims of circumstance and that was unforgivable to Seeley Booth. There was nothing he hated worse than a kid suffering or children being murdered. It broke something inside him to hear those stories and he had to do something. He couldn't just sit around while local police bumbled and scratched their heads at the "mysterious circumstances" surrounding the deaths of so many children. If he could get to the crime scene, even if there were no bodies Booth could begin to piece together a story. It was his job, his life to solve violent crimes.
Booth made it to the crime scene after the sun had set and the frenzy of reporters left satisfied. He couldn't help but feel a familiar bitter taste at the back of his throat for media but he shook it off, he had more important things to do. He was going to figure out exactly what happened. The bodies were gone, and the chalk outlines remained. Booth could see them as he approached the forbidding yellow caution tape and ducked underneath.