Hello lovelies!

So. AU, set in old times when most middle-upper class people had cars but they were still a new technology. I don't really know when that was around, my socials teacher way back when said something about people who traveled by train roofs, I wasn't really listening but this is what came to mind when I thought back to it. I'd say somewhere near second-world war?

Any language that may seem offensive is a product of the age, not me :P

Rated M for all that good stuff that I always write about ;)

Spencer's POV for this chapter. It's short, I know.

Chapter One:

The air was quite cold on my face as it went whipping by. Not like I wasn't used to it, but it still made my nose feel like I'd kept it in the freezer for an extended period of time.

I glanced behind me and nodded a greeting to the man about ten feet back who must've been about a decade older than me.

At least he looked it.

Most of us who used the train roofs as transportation didn't particularly keep up general hygiene. But I wasn't just trying to get from spot to spot; I needed work. And first impression meant at least looking my age, if not presentable to company.

There was a small but rich town showing up within the next twenty minutes alongside the old rusty I had picked a joyride on and if I could find the right resident I was almost guaranteed at least one free meal and a place to spend the night.

Which ultimately, the way things had been going, wasn't such a bad situation to put myself in.

I glanced back forwards, pushing the hair that had flown into my face out of my eyes, and saw a tunnel coming up. I turned around and smacked the metal I was sitting on twice to get the other guys attention. He looked up and then past me at the approaching tunnel. He then raised a hand in thanks and began to reposition himself on the cold surface. I, too, swung my legs around and laid flat, my back against the moving floor.

It wasn't like I would be decapitated if I stayed sitting and simply ducked, but men like me and my compatriot didn't like to take chances with the lights that hung in the tunnels.

I was always fond of the muffling effect the tunnels had on the train's steady thunking. As soon as we become engulfed in the darkness, it's like the noise does too.

As the tunnel stretched on I rubbed my eyes. It had been a long day. Long week actually. Traveling by railway roof looking for work was actually more work than I had expected. It had been about two weeks since my last job (one which hadn't gone super well) and all I wanted was some soup and a pillow.

Maybe a shower.

The tunnel ended and I sat back up, rearranging my haversack between my legs. I reopened it for the fourth time on the particular train ride to make sure all of my stuff was still there. You really couldn't be too careful, hanging around with men like me. To be honest, I'd even snagged a few items from bags left around by other 'commuters'. I wasn't a thief or nothing. Stealing to live can't really be classified as criminal.

I shifted my small, faded, navy-blue fleece blanket to the side so I could look at my haul underneath. I had a stale piece of bread to eat if I found no work, a felt Stetson hat (which I'd taken from a sleeper who'd passed out against a boulder off a dust road about a year ago. I normally balled my blanket up inside of it just so it didn't lose it's shape), underneath that was a small collection of items I'd acquired while out here. My last pack of smokes sat at the top. It was mostly full but, considering my habit, it wasn't going to be long before I needed to get more. Strewn about the bottom of my bag were my four lighters (I pick them up whenever they've been dropped) as well as two flasks. The ornate one made of embellished pewter was half full of rye while the one of brown leather held water up to the brim. I pulled the pewter out and took a healthy swig of the alcohol. It burned in my throat but I flinched it down.

I went back into the haversack to keep tabs on the rest of my things. I pushed my white bandana aside, the one that I wore when I worked out in fields of my temporary employers, and grabbed my pocket knife in order to pick some of the larger rocks that had embedded themselves in my boots while trudging about.

I turned back to my bag. There was a buttoned separate compartment that only held one item. I hardly ever went more than a few hours on the road without checking that one small space. Inside was a small pendant. About the size of an eye. It was a round, simple metal that appeared to have had it's outsides carved down so that the original shiny top was in the shape of a tree, whose roots were intricately woven in and out of each other. In the center of the tree's bark it seemed someone had etched a small sword into the metal with a knife.

It had been my mothers. It was the last piece of her that I had. The last thing she'd given me before I'd had to leave.

I hardly ever wore it around my neck. First off, The chain it was on was worn down and unreliable and I wasn't taking any chance of it falling off. And secondly, if I did wear it around and some other rough-neck commuter saw it and wanted it, well, I wasn't exactly big enough to hold my own in a fight.

Only a few minutes later we passed a sign along side the track.

Bullbridge, 2 mi.

I quickly gathered my things and flung the bag over one shoulder before I perched on the edge of the train. I made a small glance at the man behind me who raised a hand in farewell. I gave a soft smile before doing the same.

3, 2, 1… Go.

I pushed off, making a sliding type of motion down to the ground, making sure my knees were bent when I hit the dust. I rolled once before standing up rather gracefully for my gangly limbs. I gave a quick breath of appreciation that I hadn't injured myself before trekking off.

I set off down the side of the tracks towards where the train was becoming a shrinking object in the distance. I brought my bag to my front, doing a brief inventory in case I'd dropped something, before grabbing the pack of smokes and a lighter.

I jammed the fag into my mouth and blocked the wind against my flickering flame, inhaling deeply. I pocketed the pack and light in my jeans and re-slung the sack, breathing the smoke out my nose. My hands were freezing so I shoved them in my pockets as I continued down the tracks, knowing my cig could be left unattended as long as I wasn't talking to nobody.

It only took about six minutes of walking before I figured I'd gone far enough so I veered to my right and straight into some tall grass and thick weeds. I suspected that if I got through all of these I would end up right in the middle of Bullbridge. A town that happened to have no train stop going to it.

As I suspected, about ten minutes later I came out of the dense brush and behind what appeared to be a pub.

I scaled around the building and walked out into a broad paved road. I seemed to be in the town square or some what because I could see a restaurant, an old motel, and a grocery store. The whole placed was lined in pretty trees, dirt, and large plains of grass, yellowing in certain spots. I could see some cattle grazing about a hundred yards away.

"'Scuse me, ma'am?" I caught the attention of a young woman walking along the road. "I'm visitin' a relative of mine, but for the life of me I can't seem to find housin' around here. Do you think you could point me in that direction?"

She smiled shyly so I flashed her my own set of whities, turning my charm up. "If you head around that corner store there and walk for about three minutes you should find the residents." She eyed me for a moment. "Are you sure you're supposed to be here?" Her southern accent was good and proper and I recognized that me with my dirty clothes and scruffy appearance, not to mention the lazy twang in my drawl didn't exactly look like I belonged in this town of richies.

I took the smoked-short butt out of my mouth and stamped it on the ground before smiling. "Yeah, my cousin is a bit better off than I am, but I assure you I'm in the right town, ma'am."

I walked off towards where she'd directed and set off down the road.

The houses I came upon were well-built and almost too obviously housed people with plenty of money.

I walked towards the first of the houses and right up to the door. After knocking a pretty young woman of maybe twelve opened the door, her eyes going wide.

"Well, hey there little lady. Is your mom or pop here?"

She ran away from the door and I heard her saying something to her parents. Soon, a man showed up.

"What do you want?"

"Hullo, sir. I've been travelling around looking for work and I was wonderin'-"

"Get lost." The man shut the door in my face and I sighed. I considered marking his car with my switch blade, but thought better of it.

So I spat on it instead.

I wandered to the next house, kicking my boots along the asphalt as I went. This is how it normally went. I don't know why but even in a time like this most people weren't willing to help out men like me. I walked up the steps to the porch. After I knocked an older woman answered.

"Evenin', ma'am." I said.

"Can I help you?"

"Well, see that's what I'm tryin' to find out. I need a place ta stay-so I travel around and see if I can work for folks that live in towns like yours in exchange for a somewhere ta sleep."

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, but I really don't have anything to offer you."

"Really, I can help around the house. I know how'da cook. I can clean."

"No. Thank you honey, but I just don't need it."

I stood there for a moment, wondering if she was the type to give in after a while, but decided against keeping it up. She looked like she was managing just fine and I'd hate to impose on her.

I nodded my thanks and walked back out of the drive.

In the next six houses I still hadn't found any luck. The people were either rude or adamant about not needing or wanting my help. I wasn't backing out yet, though. I'd been doing this for a long enough time that having eight houses reject me wasn't putting a damper on my spirits.

I noticed that all of the houses I went to seemed to have limited property; they were no more than a half-acre, and all of the owners were very well dressed.

I realized that, in a town like this one, what I needed was to find someplace where it actually looked like they needed help, a farm or something, so I set off even farther down the road where the pavement became old and soon turned to dirt. It was all farmland after a few minutes, so I knew I'd have a better chance at getting work down here.

I pulled out a smoke and lit it, inhaling deep again. I found a house with a herd of sheep of to the side of it, so I removed the ciggy from my mouth and knocked.

"Yes?" A man asked when he opened the door.

"Howdy, sir. I'm looking for some temporary work. I noticed you gotta little farm here and I thought you could use some more hands."

The man shook his head. "I appreciate what you folk do, but I got a full family living here, so I don't need help and I don't have so much as a couch for you to sleep on. I'm very sorry."

"That's just fine, man. Thanks anyways." I walked back to the road, stuffing the stick back in my mouth and taking another through my mouth and out my nose, the way my pops used to do. Even if the guy was lying through his teeth, I valued the fact that he had at least made a legitimate excuse.

I walked on a little more and in about five minutes found myself standing at a gate to a small house, not nearly as rich-looking as those I'd already been to. But I could see a chicken coop from where I stood and what I was pretty sure was a pig canal.

I took another drag as I walked up the drive. I stepped up onto the half-foot tall wooden porch that wrapped around the house and knocked on the mahogany door.

The fella that eventually opened the door was of dark skin and extremely good-looking. He had a strong build and muscular arms and a warm glint about his eyes that made me want to shiver.

Okay, so I have a guy-thing. Let's not talk about it.

"Hey there." He said in a lazy accent that matched mine. "What can I do ya for?"

I went to smile and then realized I hadn't taken my fag out of my mouth. My eyes only widened briefly before I yanked it out.

"S-sorry." I muttered, raising the cigarette to indicate what I was referring to.

"No worries. I'd be lyin' if I said this was a non-smokin' house." He smiled and I couldn't help but smile back. I mean, everyone smoked, so it's not like I was being abnormal, I just thought it was bad etiquette to smoke while trying to score a job.

"So, what was it you wanted?"

"I, uh, I'm not so well-off and I'm lookin' for a place to stay. I'll work for you and everythin'. Even if it's just for the night."

He stood there for a moment. "Did you take a train roof?"

I stared. "Uh, yeah."

He nodded. "I get a couple of you comin' 'round every year. You seem like nice folk."

"We got rules about manners." I smiled.

He laughed. "What's your name?"

"Reid."

His brow scrunched and I couldn't help but take a quick drag and then blow it off to the side. "Is that given?" He asked.

"Nah, my momma ain't that suave. It's Spencer." I turned my charm up the way I had with the lady in town.

The man laughed. "Spencer Reid. Could you get more white?

I shrugged and dragged again. "Well, what about you? What's yours?"

"Derek Morgan."

"Smooth," I smiled and he nodded.

"So, what were you thinking you could do for me work-wise?"

I shrugged. "I cook, clean, I could work around your farm." I nodded to the edge of his porch. "I noticed you got some animals. I grew up on a farm myself. I know how to tend to most farm animals. And I'm a fast learner. I can do repairs. I can do laundry. Hell, I can sit around with my mouth shut if you want."

Derek gave me a once over. "What do you need from me?"

"A place to sleep, something to eat, and maybe a shower?" I took another quick inhale. "I don't care if you want me for the night or for the week. I'm down for anything."

Derek bit his lip and nodded slightly.

"Well, Spencer, let's talk. Come on in." And he stepped aside.

Let me know what you think!

Love always! Xoxoxo