This story was partially inspired by IntoTheWilds feline-Reid (I hope you don't mind how I took and ran with that idea, honey bee!) and has been largely encouraged, edited, and improved by my darling Hisuiko, without whom this never would've been born and never would've grown to what it is now.

This is a different story for me for a few reasons. One, Reid's mutation in here is very feline based and very—unique. You'll understand soon enough. Two, there are absolutely no X-Men in this story. It is Spencer and his team. Now, in the next story, of course I'll bring them in, because I can't have Spencer without Remy. And three, I have a lot of OC's in here. :P

But I hope you guys enjoy this one. If it seems strange in the prologue, please, just at least try the first chapter or so. Give it a chance. As I said, it's different, but I think you'll like it. Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! Updates won't be near as fast as Guardian because I'm still working mainly on that story, but I wanted to go ahead and start posting this one, just because I am enjoying it (and I never work on just one story at once, lol)

Los Angeles was known to be a city of life and lights. Tonight, those lights were dimmed as a storm began to build over the city. Clouds were thick and heavy in the sky, covering the light of the stars and giving the night an oppressive, almost dangerous feel to it. Only a small sliver of the moon was visible, casting a soft, pale light on the ground, the only break in the dark. In a secluded house situated on the outskirts of the city the dark was even more intense away from all the city lights. Protective walls surrounded a property that was usually kept semi lit with by mounted security lights, but for the past few nights there'd been having trouble with the light system not working. The owner of this expensive house had grown used to the lights shutting off on him for random intervals before turning back on, only to shut off once more. He kept telling himself that he'd have someone come out and check on it soon. Later, he would regret that delay…

In the darkest shadows of the back corner of the yard, a lithe figure dropped gracefully down to the ground. Immediately it started to slip towards the house, clinging to the shadows and bushes as cover. If anyone had been looking, they would've seen nothing except for maybe a hint of moonlight glinting off of amber eyes. Nothing else was visible, for the young mutant, and it was a mutant, knew how to use his powers to cling to those shadows. He moved like a hunter stalking his prey; silently and stealthily. Stalker was what he was known by. The name suited him. His mutation was animalistic in nature, granting him physical alterations that made him a sort of cougar/human hybrid. Long legs that were slender yet powerful granted him strength for jumping. His ears held a distinct curve to them and his nose was definitely feline, as were some of the angles on his face. From head to toe he was covered in tawny fur, which turned the color of cream over his mouth, throat, down to his belly, and on his inner legs, just like a cougar. A long tail swished through the air behind him.

There were still human traits, though. He walked on two legs like any human. Though he had pads on the palms of his hands and feet, he still held five digits on each one, even if they did end with retractable claws. He could still speak. His body was basically human, just enhanced by feline traits. Better endurance, stamina, strength, and the enhanced animal senses.

Like any cougar, he was a talented climber. He put that talent to use now as he moved out of the shadows and grabbed hold of the trellis on the side of the house. In short order he'd scaled it up to the nearest window. It was a route he'd plotted out days ago. A claw helped him pop the pathetic lock on the bathroom window. With a whisper of movement he twisted through the window to drop almost silently on the bathroom floor. This was almost too easy. People like this, they thought their security was so perfect. In reality, there were so many holes it was any wonder they managed to keep anything safe.

Stalker resisted the urge to snort to himself. He settled instead for rolling his eyes. He wasn't here to criticize the security systems of other people. He was here to do a job. A client had hired him to come here tonight to take back what was rightfully hers. Jewelry that her grandmother had given her and that her ex-husband was refusing to allow her to come get. Though young—far younger than many realized—Stalker had a decent reputation as a damn good thief. He could get into places that many others couldn't. His unique physicality helped him with that. If every now and then he had a pang of conscience, well, all he had to do was remind himself of the stack of bills waiting back at his place, plus the bank account that he was squirreling money away in for when he hit eighteen, and it was enough to push that pang back down once more.

The jewelry was exactly where he'd been told it would be. The jewelry box she'd described to him still sat inside a drawer in the bathroom vanity. Stalker pulled the items out and slipped them into a small velvet pouch. Pulling the drawstrings to close it, he slipped the pouch into the side pocket of his black cargo pants and then secured the pocket. Just as he was crossing the bathroom to go back to the window, something that would require him to pass by the partially open bathroom door, he heard a door out in the master bedroom open.

Only briefly did Stalker freeze. Then he was moving quickly to the window. He stopped by the door, though, when a strange sound caught his attention. Before he could think about the wisdom of his actions, he stepped up to the door and peeked out through the crack. What he saw had him frozen in place.

A well-dressed man was standing in the middle of the room glaring furiously down at the ground. At his feet lay a slender young woman. Stalker couldn't help but stare at her. She looked somewhere around sixteen years old. Mocha skin was barely covered by a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and was marred here and there by bruising. A riot of black curls framed a face that looked both terrified and hazy. By the look on her face and the heavy way she moved, there was no doubt that she was drugged. Stalker had seen the signs often enough to recognize them.

"You will learn to listen to me." The man snarled down at her. His hands went to his belt buckle and started to undo it. "I will not be disobeyed in my own home. I paid good money for you, you stupid whore, and you're going to do exactly what I tell you!"

The whole scene stunned Stalker so much that the man was able to get the first blow with the belt in. The woman's pained cry echoed around them and it was enough to snap the feline back to the present. A snarl of rage ripped from his chest. He never thought twice about launching out the bathroom door and across the room. His body landed over hers in enough time to take the second blow straight across his back. He absorbed it, ignored it, and twisted his body so that his hand could dart out and grab hold of the belt. He yanked hard and the man let go in obvious shock. The belt went flying across the room to smack into the wall. Bracing his body over the downed young girl, he hissed furiously at the man who had dared to beat her and held out his hands, claws bared.

Shock had the man stumbling back a step. "What the hell?"

Stalker knew the man's shock wouldn't last long. Soon, he'd lunge for that door and go call for help. There were two options here: fight or run. The figure still lying on the ground by his feet left him with only one of those options. Stalker quickly stepped back and dipped down to gather the woman up in his arms. She was easy to carry. He was grateful that she was coherent enough to actually wrap her arms around his neck and help hold on. In one great leap, he cleared the room and reached the door out of the room. There was no security here, he knew, and the cameras were down for another three minutes and twenty seconds, as he'd planned. He just hadn't planned on racing out through the house. Still, at least it was safe to do so.

Behind him he could hear the man shouting out threats. He paid no attention. Holding the girl close, he tore down the curved staircase, grabbing the railing halfway down and making the leap over the edge. The girl clung tightly to him but she didn't cry out. She just held on tightly as he took off out the front door and down the driveway.

Once outside, it took him no time at all to slip into the shadows and make his way to where he'd hidden his car. He laid the woman down carefully in the backseat and then hurried up into the front seat. Whatever drugs were in the girl's system were finally taking over. She was out before he even started to pull away. Looking into his rearview mirror, he wondered just what the hell he'd gotten himself into here.

It took most of the night for whatever was in the girl's system to finally start to wear off. Stalker could smell the difference in her scent when the drug started to fade. He'd been monitoring her carefully ever since he'd carried her in here and laid her down on his couch. The drugs had kept her out so much that she hadn't even stirred when he'd laid her down, or as he'd given her a quick check-over. There was no blood-scent, so he hadn't had to worry about open wounds, but he'd been able to see as he carried her that there were other bruises on her. A few of them looked deep. He couldn't just leave her lying there without checking her over and making sure there was nothing serious. He needed to know that there were no broken bones. So with a quick, clinical touch, he checked her over as best as he was able.

What he found had him seething and a low growl rumbling down in his chest. There was bruising on her back and on her arms that suggested that this wasn't the first whipping she'd received. Bruises on her stomach had been carefully checked until he was sure there were no broken ribs underneath. Around one wrist there was dark bruising in which Stalker's sharp eyes could clearly make out fingers. Someone had gripped her wrist in their hand tightly enough to bruise her that deeply. It took everything the young feline had not to turn around and go back to that house and show the man just what it felt like to be powerless under someone stronger. To keep from giving in, he turned himself to things he could do. He got the girl tucked in with a warm blanket to keep her warm and then he moved over to the stove to start to prepare something easy to eat for when she woke up.

Tuned to her, he was prepared when she started to wake, and he came over to the couch that she was on. In his hands he had a bottle of water. He kept his distance while she slowly drew up out of sleep. There was no telling how she was going to react. Judging by what that guy back there had said, he'd bought the girl from somewhere, so it was a pretty good guess that she wouldn't wake up relaxed and easy.

He wasn't wrong. Her scent sharpened all of a sudden with a sour fear smell though her eyes stayed closed. Stalker squatted down a few feet away and rested his arms on his legs. "You're safe here." He said in a low, soothing voice. "That man isn't here. He's not going to hurt you anymore. You're safe."

Large brown eyes blinked open and lifted to fix straight on him. They were much clearer than they'd been earlier. The look there was cautious and just slightly afraid. But when she spoke, her voice was steady. "You saved me."

He nodded his head. "I did." Holding out the water, he waited for her soft nod before giving it a light toss. It landed on the couch in front of her. Better right now that he keep his distance and let her feel safe. Something told him she hadn't had much cause to feel safe lately. "You're safe here. This is my place and he won't be able to find you here. He won't even know to look here."

"Who are you?" She carefully pushed up, making sure to keep the blanket securely around her. Once up, she reached out to scoop up the water bottle. The way she drank from it suggested that it had been a while since she'd had any, or the drugs had left her mouth really dry.

"People call me Stalker." For now, that would do.

She gave him a once over and nodded in understanding. Then her eyes lifted to his once more. Unlike most people, she seemed to have no trouble meeting his amber gaze. "People call me Beam."

Oh. Well, then. That made things quite a bit different. This girl was a mutant. "What can you do?" He asked curiously.

She only hesitated for a second before answering. "I can teleport, but only to places I've been and memorized. So don't get any funny ideas. I'm not drugged anymore. You try anything and I'm out of here."

That last part was said with quite a bit of bite to it. Stalker smiled approvingly. Good. The girl still had some spunk in there. She was going to need that. It would help her get through the shit that she'd been dealt. "Do you have any family, anyone that I can call for you?"

She shook her head, her expression turning sad. "No one that cares."

He held back a wince. Too often that was the case for mutants he met. "Okay then. I know some people who run a shelter not far from here. We'll let you rest up here for a while and then I'll take you down there to them. They're great people. They can help you keep away from this guy and give you a safe place to stay. Or, if you want, you can crash here for a little while until you're ready to move on. Whatever you want to do."

His words seemed to stun her. She sat there, water bottle held halfway to her mouth, and just stared at him like she couldn't quite believe what was coming out of his mouth. "You'd let me stay here?"

"Sure." He shrugged one shoulder casually.

"But…why? You don't even know me!" Her expression shifted to one of suspicion. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you." He hurried to reassure her. There was such honesty in his voice that he could actually see her relax just a little. "As for why I'm helping you, well, how can I not? It's the right thing to do. I could no more turn you out than I could've left you back there."

"I…I can't pay you. Not for rent or even for food."

Stalker shrugged his shoulder again. "I told you, I don't want anything from you. If you feel the need to contribute something, you can wash dishes. I absolutely loathe washing dishes."

A startled laugh slipped from her. Underneath her shock, he saw a spark of the girl she must've been before this. Her spirit hadn't been broken by her ordeal. It was still there, still alive. It showed in her eyes and in the small smile that graced her lips. "I don't imagine dishes are easy for you to do." She gestured towards his hands.

Looking down, he smiled at his hands and then looked back up at her. He drew a deep breath in and reached for that place deep inside of himself. This was something he'd never quite been able to explain to anyone else. It was almost like flipping a switch down inside of himself, yet that didn't quite explain it either. That was the closest he could come to explaining how he did what he did. With that little 'flick of the switch', his body went through the oh-so-familiar shift. In just seconds, the feline was gone, and in his place was a young man only sixteen years old. Long brown hair hung loosely around a pale skinned face, framing shy brown eyes. The longer limbs of his other form had only shortened slightly to this one, though he was thinner this way and definitely less muscular. His voice was just a bit softer, too. "It's not so hard for me to do them. I just really, really don't like to."

This girl was proving more and more interesting. Not only had she met his eyes before, something that almost no one else could do, but she didn't even flinch now at his transformation. If anything, it made her smile grow. "I don't mind doing dishes."

Smiling, he pushed up from his crouch. His body was just a couple inches shorter in this form. "I'd say we have a deal then, Beam. For as long as you need, you're welcome here."

She tipped her head up towards him and a bit more of her fear faded away. "Tanya." She said. "My friends call me Tanya."

"Nice to meet you, Tanya. My name's Spencer. Spencer Reid."