This is an AU, folks. William never left his family and Remy isn't banished from New Orleans. I hope you guys enjoy this. It's going to be three, maybe four chapters long, unless it runs away from me. Warnings for: Angst, hurt/comfort, child abuse, implied/referenced abuse and potential child molestation. This fic does start out dark in the first two parts, but it does get better. Don't read if you don't like. Just, be prepared! I don't plan on writing it real graphic, but it is going to be brought up, so be ready for that.

Here's part one!

The backyard was almost completely dark as eight year old Spencer Reid slipped out the back door of his house. His hands were very careful as he drew the door shut with only a whisper of sound. There probably wasn't any need to work so hard to be quiet, it would be a miracle if anything could be heard over the blare of the TV in the den, but habit had him moving as quietly as possible anyways. His footsteps were silent as they ghosted across the back porch and down into the yard, never faltering through the steps he'd taken countless times before. He knew all the spots to step, the shadows to cling to, that would take him to his hiding spot all the way at the other end of the yard. It was a perfect place to hide. No one ever found him there. Back in the right corner where the bushes were thick and a heavy tree stood right up against the fence that separated their property from the ones beside and behind them. There, in that little corner, Spencer could duck down into the bushes and no one would be able to see him. No one could find him.

He'd found his little sanctuary when he was five and he'd used it ever since then. Any time he needed to get out of the house, away from his father, he'd come out here and crawl into the thickest part of the bush. It was perfect for hiding. The branches dipped a bit underneath so that there was this almost perfect little alcove for him to curl up in. He'd slept in there a time or two on the really bad nights. Those happened a little too often as he got older. With each passing year, Spencer swore his father got angrier and angrier.

There wasn't a time in his eight years that Spencer could remember his father not being angry. That anger had always been there, always present in the tense lines of the man's body, in the tightening of his face. It only got worse when he looked down at his son. Spencer had learned at a young age to drop his eyes if his father ever looked at him. Nothing made his father angrier than looking into Spencer's eyes. Eyes that had marked him as different since the day he was born. Spencer had been born a mutant with a physical manifestation that told of his genetics loud and clear. He wasn't born with anything large, thank Heavens. Not wings nor tail nor anything else quite so visible. But all anyone had to do was look at his eyes to see. His pupils were long, thin slits, just like a feline, and his irises were like a firestorm. That was what his mother called it. They were a yellow and orange mixture close to his pupil, fading out to a darker orange and some red before finally ending at a darker red and an orange so dark it was close to brown. When calm, those colors were calm as well, slightly muted. Emotion changed how brightly they burned. When he was happy, it was like the colors flashed and flickered like an actual fire.

Those fires were banked now, the colors dimmed, as Spencer slipped into his hiding spot.

There was a section of the fence that was broken and if Spencer reached out and shifted it just right it allowed a tiny bit of light into his hiding spot. Not enough to reveal him; just enough to keep him from being totally in the dark. He settled back in on the ground and folded his hands together, pillowing his face on them. The light cut a soft path across the grass right in front of his face. He stared at it and tried not to think of what was waiting up in the house. He tried not to think about the aches and bruises that he knew were already building.

The grass felt cool against his hands, a nice contrast to the heat of the summer night. He soaked up the touch and let himself drift slightly on it. Eyes hazy, only half open, he watched the grass flutter under a small breeze and he let his mind flutter away with it. It was a trick he'd learned years ago. Disconnecting himself from the pain and the world around him, cutting off the thoughts that otherwise ran rampant. He let himself drift on a cloud of simple sensation until, for a little while, there was peace.

That peace didn't last. Spencer had no idea how long he'd been lying there when suddenly something cut off his light. He blinked, slowly drawing back into himself, when the sound of a bark had his whole body jumping. There, at the broken section of fence, was a dog, barking madly while trying to shove its head through the small space between the two boards and failing miserably at it. Wide eyed, Spencer scrambled further back into his hiding spot, not quite able to mask the terrified choking sound that tore at his throat. Would the dog be able to break through those boards? He looked too big to fit but maybe he was big enough to push and break them even more. What would he do if he got through? There was no way Spencer could outrun him. Oh, God, what if Dad heard him? What if Dad heard the dog and came out to investigate what was going on and he found Spencer here? He needed to get out of here, now, before either the dog broke free or his Dad came out!

Only, right as Spencer was trying to figure out how to climb out without getting too close, he heard a voice. A voice that, after the initial panic, he realized was definitely not his father. It wasn't as deep and was thick with an accent that Spencer couldn't quite place.

"Oy!" A male voice shouted. "Rowdy, y' idiot dog, what're y' doing? Y' chasing shadows again?" There was a rustling sound a Spencer drew back into the bush a bit more, clinging to the shadows, watching as the dog's head was pulled back. There were some sounds that Spencer thought might be the dog being wrestled back, followed by a low laugh. "Knock it off, y' flea bitten mutt! Aint no one never taught y' manners?" Another laugh. "All right, all right. What de hell's got y' so interested, eh? Y' find y'rself a nice lil girlfriend over in de next yard, huh? Y' stepping out on dat poodle y'r always after at de park? Y' faithless hound."

All of a sudden the light was blocked once more and it took a second for Spencer's eyes to adjust and for him to realize that it wasn't the dog back at the fence again, it was a person. A teenager. Glowing red eyes sat in a slightly tanned, youthful face, which was quickly stretched with a smile. "Well lookee here, Rowdy." The teen said with another laugh. "Weren't no bitch y' was barking after. Y' done found a lil firefly in de bushes."

Spencer stayed frozen, his body tight with tension and adrenaline while his mind scrambled to figure out whether it'd be safer to stay frozen or to run as fast as he could for the house.

The fence board moved a little more and Spencer watched cautiously as the teenager there shifted around a little until it looked like he was lying down. He propped his face up in his hands and kept on smiling at Spencer. "I hope Rowdy didn't scare y' too much. He's a nosy, curious lil shit an de open fence was probably too much temptation. De pup probably didn't know what to do when he found a lil firefly hiding in de bushes. He's more used to chasing dem t'rough de air."

Despite himself, Spencer's body relaxed a little. He couldn't quite keep up his level of fear in the face of this teen's ridiculousness. Whoever this guy was, he was strange, but he had a friendly smile.

"What's got y' hiding down dere? Did someone try and stick y' in a jar?" The guy asked him.

Spencer couldn't quite stop the snort that slipped out. "You're weird." He said, before he could stop himself. Then he winced. That was one of the things that always got him in so much trouble. His Dad said he needed to learn to think before he opened his mouth to speak. Sometimes, he just couldn't seem to help it. Something crossed his mind and he'd find himself saying it, sometimes without even realizing he was doing it. It got him into a lot of trouble.

This guy didn't seem the least bit bothered by it, though. His smile grew a little bigger and he laughed again. The sound was pleasant and Spencer felt his lips twitching in response. "Aint de first time I heard dat." The guy said. "Won't be de last, neither. Rather be weird dan boring, me."

"I'm boring." Spencer blurted out. He'd been told that plenty of times by the kids at school.

That earned him a low scoff. "Y', boring? I don't believe it. Would a boring person be hiding in de bushes pretending to be a firefly to trick unsuspecting dogs?"

To his surprise, Spencer felt a laugh tickling at the back of his throat and he had to quickly put a hand over his mouth to stifle it. "I wasn't!" He whispered, his hand still hiding his mouth.

"Uh-huh, sure."

Spencer opened his mouth to say something else when a muffled crash came from somewhere in the distance behind him. His whole body went still and on alert in a flash. There was another crash and the muffled sound of shouting, followed by a softer sound that had Spencer giving a full body flinch. He turned himself so that he could peek through the branches of the bush, up towards the house. When he'd left, his Mom had been asleep. That was part of the reason he'd felt safe enough to sneak out here. If she'd been awake than he would've stayed in the house with her. He wouldn't have dared leave them alone together with the mood his father was in tonight.

Another shout had Spencer flinching again. This time, though, he uncurled himself from his hiding spot. His eyes flickered up towards the house and then back to the teen in the fence. "I've got to go."

Those glowing eyes scrunched a little and the smile faded ever so slightly, but he didn't protest. "Maybe I'll catch y' out here again, firefly." Was all he said. Then, before Spencer even moved, the face was gone and the board was slid back into place.

Spencer stayed there a second longer, staring at the fence and wondering what on earth had just happened. The sound of another crash from the house snapped his attention back to the present. He pushed back all thoughts of glowing red eyes and smiling faces and focused instead on sliding out from the bushes and up towards the house. It was going to be a long night.

That little visit played in the back of Spencer's mind off and on for the next few days. He highly doubted he'd see the teen again. Why would he? Kids around here didn't like to talk to him. The ones his own age thought he was weird and older kids didn't like having someone so young come off as so smart. It basically left him on his own. For the most part, he'd gotten used to it. It was normal. He had no reason to believe that this kid next door would be any different.

So it was a giant surprise when, only a few days after their initial meeting, Spencer saw him again. Once more he was hiding underneath his bush to keep away from his Dad. He had a blanket with him this time and planned to spend most of the night out here. His mother had gone to visit a relative of hers that was in the hospital and she wouldn't be back for a few days. That meant that there was no one else here with William and Spencer, which meant that Spencer was willing to do pretty much anything to avoid being around the house at all. Tonight he'd waited until it looked like his Dad was mostly passed out in the living room and then he'd grabbed his blanket and slipped outside.

He was lying as comfortably as his bruises would allow him, his blanket wrapped around him to ward off the cooler night air, when he heard movement coming from the other side of the fence. He watched with surprise as a pair of feet showed in the crack through the boards before they shifted away and the face from the other night appeared. The boy was grinning just as much now as he had been then. "Well, well, well, hey dere, firefly. I t'ought I might find y' over here, once I saw de board was moved."

Spencer wasn't sure what to say to that. He wasn't really sure what to say at all, here. That didn't seem to deter the teen, though. He was laying himself down just like he had the other night with his face propped up in his hands and sitting right there between the boards. "Y'r a quiet one, aint y'?" He asked, not even pausing to give Spencer a chance to answer him. "Den again, I aint never tried talking to no magic bugs b'fore. Who knows? Maybe fireflies don't really talk, oui? Dat's all right. M' Papa says I talk enough fo' a dozen people. M' cousin Lon says de same t'ing. Dat's his house, back behind me. I'm staying wit' him fo' de summer cause Papa wants me to be outta de way while he and Henri—dat's mon frère—take care of some t'ings. He says I'm here to learn from Lon, mais I know better. I'm Remy, by de way. I don't t'ink I've said dat yet. Do y' got a name, or am I just gonna have to keep callin' y' firefly?"

Wow. He wasn't kidding when he said he could talk. Of course, most of what came out of his mouth seemed to be complete and utter nonsense. Spencer found himself hard pressed to be bothered by it, though. If anything, he found himself wanting to smile, and he actually answered the question before he'd even given it any real thought. "I'm Spencer." Then, because he couldn't resist and because it was bugging him, he blurted out "Why do you keep calling me firefly? I'm not a bug."

"Non, mais y'r eyes glow like fire an dey're mostly what I can see in de dark like dis." Remy said easily.

"Oh." Well, that made a little sense. His eyes always had made him stand out. For once that didn't seem like such a bad thing. Not when the eyes staring back at him were almost completely black, except for those slightly glowing red irises. "Yours glow too, you know."

"Most of de time. Makes Remy look a bit like de devil, non? Le diable blanc."

Curiosity had Spencer turning towards Remy just a little more. "What's that mean?"

"De white devil." Remy translated. There was just a hint of something in his tone, something sharp and bitter, and the red of his eyes flashed brightly. Then it was gone again and that smooth humor was back. "M' Tante Mattie, she just calls me demon-chile, mais only when I'm driving her crazy. She says all sorts of shit when y' push her de right way. It's funny. Almost as fun as makin' Henri mad."

He thought making someone mad was funny? The idea was flabbergasting to Spencer. Why would you want to make someone mad? He spent most of his life trying to do the exact opposite of that.

"So," Remy drawled out. "Why don't y' tell me about y'rself? Like, how old are y'? I'm gonna be t'irteen here soon."

Spencer winced, not quite wanting to answer that. Would Remy still talk to him once he found out that Spencer was almost five years younger than him? Most kids that age wanted nothing to do with someone younger. "I'm eight."

"Dat's cool. Y' got any siblings?"

"Uh-uh." Spencer shook his head. "It's just me and my parents."

Nodding, Remy folded his arms on the ground and rested his chin on them, leaving his face visible from his nose, up. "I got an older brother, Henri. He's a pain in m' ass, mais I like him. He aint m' real frère. I was adopted, two years ago. Almost t'ree. He treats me like family, t'ough, an dat's all dat matters, oui? Papa says family aint just about blood. It's who we make it."

"He sounds like a smart man."

"He is! He's de smartest homme I know. Y' should see his library. I aint never seen so many books in one place b'fore! Do y' like to read? I'm reading de Lord of de Rings right now, fo' m' summer reading list dat Tante Mattie gave me. Gotta read em all b'fore I go home."

Spencer's eyes lit up a little at that. "I love those books!"

"Really? I'm still in de first one…"

And just like that, the two found themselves in an in depth discussion of not just the Fellowship of the Ring, but the Hobbit that came before it, as well as multiple other books. Talk of books led them to talk of movies and then from there onto other interests. Spencer had no idea how long they'd been out there talking when a voice from behind Remy cut off their conversation. He watched the teen's head turn and then Remy was calling out "All right! Keep y'r britches on!" He turned back to Spencer and flashed another grin. "Dat's m' cousin. I gotta head in b'fore he gets his panties in a twist. Meet up at de same time tomorrow?"

"Sure." Spencer answered quickly. Eagerly.

With a wink and a laugh, Remy disappeared, and Spencer settled back into his blankets with a smile of his own and a small shake of his head.

That was the start of their friendship. Spencer, who'd never really known a true friend, found himself enjoying every second of it. They met up almost every single night out there and talked for hours through the fence about anything and everything. School, books, movies, friends. Remy told him about life back in New Orleans, all about his home and his family and the friends he had there, and in turn Spencer told him a bit about life here. One topic they very carefully avoided, though, was Spencer's family. Oh, he talked about his Mom a little. Nothing big. But any effort to press more only succeeded in closing him off and shutting him up. Remy learned fast not to push. But he wasn't stupid. Spencer knew that his friend knew some of what was going on.

The first time that Spencer showed up for one of their visits with a black eye and a split lip, Remy hadn't said anything about it, obviously seeing the 'don't ask' look that was clearly printed on Spencer's face. However, that night was the first night that Remy widened the gap in the fence enough for one of them to slip through. He coaxed Spencer, blanket and all, over to his side of the fence, and the two ended up sitting together against the trunk of a tree. Remy didn't ask him about his face, or about the stiff way he moved. Instead, he slung his arm around Spencer's shoulders, ignoring his flinch, and started pointing out the constellations in the stars. They stayed like that as Spencer slowly relaxed until finally the tension drained away and the bruises seemed to ache a little less.

Months passed. Summer slowly faded to fall and the days of summer vacation were quickly dwindling. Spencer found himself both anticipating and dreading it in equal measure. He'd be back in school again, away from home and in an environment where he still got picked on, but his chances of hiding and escaping were much stronger. But, Remy would be gone. Spencer's stomach clenched every time he started to think about Remy leaving. Despite their age differences, the two had grown close over the summer. What would he do once his new best friend was gone? He was going to miss him like crazy.

He told Remy that late one night just days before Remy had to leave, when they were curled up on Remy's side of the fence beneath the tree. He had his side pressed against his friend's and Rowdy was sprawled against his other side, leaving Spencer between them and feeling safer than he ever had anywhere else.

The Cajun looked down at him when he heard Spencer's softly spoken admission and his eyes seemed to have lost some of their usual glow. There was this moment of hesitation, so strange because Remy had never seemed hesitant about anything before, but then Remy was tipping his head and saying "Y' could come wit' me."

"What?" Surprised, Spencer sat up a little straighter, his slender body twisting in place so that he could actually look up at Remy's face. He had to be joking!

The look Remy gave him was serious, though. "M' Papa, he's an important person, Spencer. He could help y'. Y' could come wit' me and stay wit' us. Get away from dat." He spat the last word out like it was vile and made a disgusted sort of gesture in the direction of Spencer's house, perfectly encompassing everything that he felt for William Reid.

There was a small part of Spencer that thrilled at what Remy was saying. The main part of him, though, was already shaking its head, and he echoed that sentiment. "I can't." He hated to say those words, hated just how much he wished he didn't have to, and immediately felt guilty for it. That guilt straightened his spine and firmed his slender shoulders. "Mom needs me. I can't leave her alone and she…she won't leave." He dropped his gaze, sure of his words but not quite able to look at Remy as he said them. The backs of his eyes felt like they were burning. It's not fair. He wanted so badly to take what Remy was offering.

Remy muttered words that Spencer knew were curses, followed by a deep sigh. "Y'r heart's too big, petit."

Suddenly there was an arm around Spencer's shoulders and he was being yanked in for a sideways hug that still made him jump even after all the times Remy had done it this summer. He melted into it quickly, though, soaking up the comforting touch he'd only ever gotten from his mother. Remy held him tightly and Spencer leaned into him, wondering if this was what it felt like to have a brother. Remy's sigh ruffled his hair. "Jus' cause I'm going home don't mean dis is goodbye." Remy told him in a voice that had become steady once more. He gave Spencer a small shake, laughing when Spencer swatted at him. The tense mood was broken with just that simple move and it felt a little easier to breathe again. Remy loosened his grip enough to be able to ruffle his hair and smile down at him. "M' cousin Lon here, he said I can write y' here and he'll leave de letters on de back porch fo' y'. An I'll bug m' Papa till he says I can come back next summer."

Spencer ducked his head down as emotion built a lump in his throat. Remy was leaving, but he wasn't actually leaving him. He'd already thought of ways to keep in contact. It wasn't the same but it was good enough.

"Y'r stuck wit' me, firefly." Remy told him, chuckling. "Dere aint no getting rid of me now." He felt Remy's hand ruffle his hair again and this time he didn't bother swatting at him. He just let Remy tug him in close once more and went back to staring up at the stars.

Remy was true to his word. Not even a week passed after he left before the first letter appeared on the neighbor's back porch. Never once did Spencer see this 'cousin Lon', but the man faithfully put out the letters for him on the porch where they'd stay dry if a chance rain came through. It felt strange for Spencer to creep across someone's backyard and grab up his letters; not strange enough to stop, though. He loved each and every letter he got. He wrote back to each one, too, after the second letter came with extra envelopes and stamps stuffed inside. Spencer secreted those into his school bag and kept them there, dropping off his letters on his way to school.

Through pen and paper, Spencer got to know his friend on a whole new level, and in return he opened up to Remy in a way that he hadn't with anyone else. It was easy, somehow, to put pen to paper and just let his thoughts flow. He found himself telling Remy all about school, about the classes he was taking and the teachers, about being bumped up another grade and how worried he was about being around students that were older than him. He worried sometimes that he might bore Remy with all this, but his friend wrote back faithfully to every letter and responded to the things he said with comfort and sympathy and occasionally a creative curse for the bullies in Spencer's life.

Remy told him things in return. He talked about his own lessons, since apparently he had a private tutor instead of public school. He talked about his brother, Henri, who drove him crazy sometimes, and who he often got into playful prank wars with. Spencer had laughed out loud when he'd read about how Henri had stuffed lunch meat deep in Remy's coat pockets one morning so that Remy's clothes ended up smelling like old meat, and how Remy had gotten revenge by pouring glitter into the AC vent in Henri's room so that his whole room got covered in glitter when the air conditioning turned on.

The two grew close in their letters. He'd enjoyed his summer with the other boy but he really enjoyed their letters. There, he didn't feel so awkward. He just felt like himself.

And when he got the letter telling him that Remy's father had finally agreed to let him come out again, the boys were both thrilled. For the first time in his life, Spencer had a friend, a real friend, and it was a great feeling. One that not even his father could take away.