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Chapter Text

The 4-9 precinct was busy when Detective Brad Colbert entered it for the first time. Officers and Detectives alike were running back and forth, yelling, handing off papers and all and all trying to survive to rabble the squad area had fallen into. A young officer with a shock of blond hair knocked into him before he mumbled a hasty apology and scurried off to the other side of the room, where a man in a sergeant's uniform was barking out orders and pointing in different directions.

It wasn't much better on the upper riser level, where several windowed offices were. Men and women in sergeant, lieutenant and even captain's uniforms were marching to and fro, barking orders down into the chaos below, talking over walkie-talkies and into phones and looking just as frazzled as everyone else.

Brad grunted again as he was knocked into for the second time in as many minutes and he had to look down at the man in front him. “Move your ass!” He heard from behind the stack of files in front of his face and Brad raised an eyebrow.

“Move my ass? You can't even see over those things.” He snorted. The shorter man put the files on the desk next to him and leveled Brad with an even glare. “I don't know what shithole precinct they dragged your tall ass out of, but unless you're as fucking stupid as you're acting, I'd bet my ass cherry you can see we're a bit busy.” He spat out and Brad's eyes widened almost imperceptibly in shock before he smirked. He liked this guy.

The other man took a solid look at him for a few seconds before going to open his mouth to speak, but he was stopped by the sudden change around them. The room had fallen silent and no one was moving. No one said a single word. They were all staring at the door to the squad floor with wide, almost nervous looks, even from the detectives.

That's when he heard it.

It was the sound of three pairs of boots on the tile, two steady, one faltering.

Brad's heard it before.

The door darkens and then he sees him.

Supported between two men in full swat gear is another man, dressed in a tattered polo and a pair of jeans, black dog boots scuffing the floor as he limped forward, supported by the two men. His hair was shorn close to his head, giving it a dark look and his eyes were green like moss and they shone bright with pain. He was handcuffed between his escorts as they brought him all the way into the room and sat him in a chair. There was another pair of footsteps and a man dressed in a Captain's uniform made his way down the stairs, stopping in front of the group.

One of the men in swat gear produced a key, which he handed off to the man in uniform and they stepped back to give him room. There's was still a tense silence in the room as Brad waited for something to happen.

“Nate? You all right?” The man in uniform asked, looking concerned. There was silence for a minute more before the man in the chair, Nate, spoke.
“I'm just fine Captain. We got them and I only got kicked half a dozen times.” He says with mock derision and the squad area erupted into cheers and smiles. The Captain unlocked the cuffs and flung them onto the nearby desk as he helped Nate to his feet.

Brad watched as the other man was surround by officers and detectives who made a big show of congratulating him before returning to their work. The short weasel of a man Brad had been talking to was gone, over by the man and talking to him rapidly.

Finally, the Captain put a stop to the noise. “Alright you lot. The Lieutenant needs to see the medic and you all need to get to work. Now.” He ordered over the good-natured groans and well placed jabs of his detectives and officers.

Already a paramedic was closing in on Nate and the Captain, blue bag slung over his shoulders. Nate was about to protest when the Captain silenced him with a look. “Not happening, Nate. You said half a dozen times, which really means probably about fifteen, because you're a horrible lair and we all know it. That, and if you don't go with the medics, I sic Rudy on you.”

Nate nodded and allowed the paramedic to steer him off when finally the Captain's eyes alighted on him and he made his way over. “You must be Detective Colbert. You'll have to forgive me, I didn't think you'd be in until later, and news of the raid had already circulated. Come on up to the office.” He said easily and Brad swore there was some kind of southern drawl in the older man's voice.

He followed the man up a flight of stairs to the riser level and then down the length of the room to a windowed office in the corner. Both men took a seat, the Captain behind the desk and Brad in front of it while they stared each other down. “I guess I should start by welcoming you to the 4-9. We handle just about everything here, nothing fancy or special like Special Victims or Vice. I'm Captain Wynn and I run this precinct.” He said, staring Brad straight in the eyes.

Brad stared right back at him. “Brad Colbert, Detective III Class.” He responded. Wynn sized him up for a few minutes before nodding. “Good. Now, as I was saying earlier, I wasn't expecting you until this afternoon, when the squad room had settled down a bit but, as you can see, we're all a little high strung right now.” he shuffled a few papers around on the desk.

“You did say something about the raid. Who was that guy the heavies brought in?” Wynn looked up. “That was Lieutenant Nate Fick. He spent the last month a half deep undercover, trying to bring down a human trafficking ring. Today was the raid. Successful, thanks to him.” Wynn looked up and watched as a young uniformed officer entered the room.

“Officer Hasser. Come in.” He said and the young man did. Brad recognized him almost instantly recognized him as the officer that bumped into him earlier. “Detective Colbert, Officer Hasser here is gonna take you down to your desk and introduce you to your partner. You won't get much started today, but tomorrow, we'll get you started on everyone's favorite pastime. Paperwork.” He grinned broadly and held out his hand, which Brad shook firmly before he followed Hasser outside the into the hall.

The squad area had calmed down considerably and most people were back at their desks and scribbling down reports from complainants, tapping out reports and conferring with their fellow officers. Brad, in a rare attempt at breaking the silence, tried starting a conversation with the young officer. “How long have you been here?” He asked.

The young officer swiveled his head around and looked at him with bright blue eyes. “A year. I just finished by probationary period and was promoted to Officer II Class.” He said, before turning around and Brad realized they were standing in front of a pair of desk, one of which was occupied already while the other was barren of anything other than a computer, a phone and a notepad.

“Well well. If it isn't tall, blonde and in the way of every motherfucker in the squad room. Let me guess Hasser. I'm stuck with him, aren't I?” The smaller man said from behind the desk, face screwed up. The officer gave him a stern look.

“Ray, try to be nice or Captain Wynn will put you on graveyards again and I'll end up riding with Encino Man and I can't guarantee I won't shoot him myself if that happens.”

“I wouldn't do that to you, Walt. When have I ever steered you wrong?”

“You want the long list or the short list?”

“You wound me, Hasser. Would it help if I got on my knees?”

Walt blushed darkly and Brad grinned. He was right. He liked this guy. “Ray!” Walt hissed, trying hard to cover the color that had stained his cheeks dark red. “J-just be nice.” He tried to sound stern, but his stutter ruined it and all Ray did was smile brightly before, with a single-fingered salute, Walt stalked off in the opposite direction.

Brad and Ray leveled each other with cool looks for several minutes before Brad spoke. “Listen here you whiskey tango inbred sister fucking moron, I'm not here to wipe you ass or be your bestest buddy ever. So just make sure I don't get shot and we'll get along just fine.” Brad said coolly and Ray's eyes widened for a moment before he broke into a grin so wide Brad swore his face was going to split in half in about five seconds and then Brad would have to clean it up and listen to a lecture on not killing his partner on the first day.

“I think we're going to get along just peachy-keen. Stick with me, you tall ass fucker and we're gonna rock this place.”

Chapter Text

“Nate, can you handle parade today? I have a meeting.” Nate looked up from his desk and cocked his head to the side. “With the brass?” He asked, looking confused. “I though you guys only met twice a month unless it was an emergency.” He said, sitting back in his chair and staring at his Captain.

Mike shook his head. “No, not the brass. The Council called. A new Clan wants to form within the city and the Council wants to weigh in on what the other leaders think.” Nate blinked. “I thought that the Council agreed that Gray Warren and Black Frost were going to be the only Clans within the city? Why change their minds now?” Mike shrugged his shoulders and made a frustrated sound in his chest.

“Who knows. The Pack leaders are going to be there as well, so it must be a big Clan that wants to form. Can you tell the rest of the guys for me?” Nate made a surprised noise in his chest. “Well hell, I'm just glad I don't have to put up with politics. I'll make sure to pass along the message after parade. You have fun with that.” He said brightly. Mike rolled his eyes and left the room while Nate stood up. He was dressed in a gray suit and we still feeling the pain from yesterday's raid and it showed in his gait as he limped lightly down the stairs and into the parade room, where officers and detectives were already gathering for the day.

Nate took his spot behind the podium and whistled for silence. “Alright listen up! We're going to be busy today, which means we need to get this out of the way.” He spoke loudly to be heard over the entire room. “First though, I hear introductions are in order. We're joined by Detective Brad Colbert. I expect everyone to be nice.” He narrowed his eyes. “Which means, Person and Espera, no hamsters in the new guy's locker. No laxatives in the coffee. And NO paint bombs in my squad room.” He growled.

“Awww, LT, you're no fun!” He heard from the back of the room. “Person, if you want to mess with the new guy, wait until the paintball tournament next month.” He said and he received laughter from everyone in the room. Everyone knew Ray Person sucked at paintball.

“Now down to business. Its Family Day in Central Park, which means more people than usual and a lot more children. This is a hay-day for child predators and kidnappers. While most of you are going to be within the park itself, I want you to be attention to entrances and exits. We'll be working with the mounted police and the dog handlers. I'm going to gently remind you that if a small child approaches you and asks a million question, answer them. If another mother files a complaint, we're never going to hear the end of it. Everyone got that?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Nate nodded. “Good. I need to see Detectives Ray Person, Tony Espera and Jamie Cass as well as Sergeant Rudy Reyes and Officer Walt Hasser afterward. Everyone else is dismissed.” The parade room and emptied and the small group he requested came forward and slumped in the first row of desks. Nate looked up at the imposing shadow in the back of the room, blue eyes boring into him. “Detective Colbert, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside and shut the door after you.” He received an even stare before the tall man turned around and left the room. Once the door was shut, the tension drained out of the room.

“Damn, brother. Thought you were going to explode after a little more of that.” Nate gave him a lackadaisical smile and came to sit on the edge of the raised platform. “Give me more credit than that. I've dealt with people worse than him before. Remember that Werewolf who used to be the second of the Dark Night pack? Just about ripped my leg off. I can handle tall and broody over there.” He was treated to snorts and Ray rolled his eyes.

“Guys like that fucker give the rest of my kind a bad name. Now you're probably afraid of all werewolves and Rudy's going to have to comfort you through every full moon for the rest of unnatural life you pansy ass motherfucking shifter bitch.” Nate growled again, lacking any heat, and threw a pen at Ray from his pocket, hitting him square in the nose. “Shut up for a minute.” He said and Ray subsided. “Mike got called to a meeting of the Council today. A new Clan wants to form within the city limits and they wanted to get a feel as to how the Pack and Clan Leaders feel about it, especially after last year's declaration that Gray Warren and Black Frost are supposed to be the only Shifter Clans within city limits.”

There was silence for a minute when the others seemed to absorb this information. “Where would they meet to Run at the full moon? Gray Warren and the Great Fang pack run at Pelham Bay and there's nowhere else big enough or deserted enough that another Pack or Clan hasn't already claimed, unless you're willing to drive to the Catskills every month.” Nate shrugged his shoulders and made a helpless noise in his chest.

“I don't know. Politics like this is why I backed out of the running for Clan leader five decades ago. Obviously there's no room for another Clan but the Council doesn't seem to think that's important. And as much as I adore the Elders, I sometimes think their old age is getting to them.” He said, standing up. “I'll keep you updated on the situation as soon as I learn anything, but my guess? Get ready for a very hectic Run next week.”

The others rose from their seats and Nate bothered to look out the glass wall into the squad area, checking to make sure no one had been listening to their conversation. It was clear and the squad floor was actually fairly deserted at that point. Nate's eyes were drawn to a desk near the parade room's wall. Detective Colbert was leaning up against his desk, talking into his cell phone heatedly.

If Nate were brutally honest with himself, he had to admit that Detective Colbert was very handsome. Tall and lean, with piercing blue eyes, he was definitely Nate's type. It was a shame really. No way on this green earth he swung that way.

“Detective Person, please remind your new partner that cell phones are for emergencies only. Not fighting with the wife or girlfriend. Please tell him to have it off by the time he gets in his squad car. He's riding with you for about a week, then you can have Walt back. Walt, you're riding with Poke today, alright?” He received nods and he led them out of the room and onto the squad floor.

“LT, what are you doing today? Sitting on you ass in the air conditioned command vehicle?” Ray asked him with a vicious grin and Nate snorted. “As a matter of fact, Detective Person, today I'm going to be working with the dog handlers. I won that bet with Kocher from the 5-2 and he has to cover my paperwork at the big event of my choosing. I happen to like Family Day and the single moms find a man in uniform with a dog simply irresistible. Not to mention, I actually like children.”

Ray snorted. “Of course you do you over-educated dick sucking son of a bitch.” Ray hissed at him playfully and Nate rolled his eyes. He didn't get to where he was today without becoming immune to Ray Person. Detective Colbert on the other hand? He looked surprised and Nate grinned predatoraly in his head. That was a delicious look on him.

He shook his head and snorted at himself. Damn hormones were building up already. He couldn't wait for the run but if this got worse, he'd have to shift beforehand. Rudy and Poke were looking at he and Walt with understanding looks. Walt was very new and had come into his powers only a few months before and, even though Nate was over a century old, both were experiencing a sudden rush of the hormones the Were or Shifter part of their brains generated, making them twitchy and restless. Nate moved over to Ray and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in place and leaning down to whisper in his ear, so quiet you needed the attuned senses of a supernatural to hear.

“You should take Walt for a run after work today. I'm going to Pelham, if you want to join me.” He leaned back, affected a broad smirk and raised his voice to be heard. “We'll make a date of it. Dinner and everything, on me.” Ray gave him a look before he batted his eyes and looked at him with a lewd grin.

“Oh Nathaniel! Would you?” Nate rolled his eyes again and pushed Ray away, much to the amusement of the others in their small group and the bemusement of Detective Colbert. “Enough. I have to suit up and meet up with the handlers at the 2-5 and every one of you needs to be at the park in about forty minutes, so wrap up your business and get over there.” His group split up and Nate made his way over to the hall that led down to the locker rooms, opening the door for the men's room.

He quickly stripped out of his suit and slipped into his black uniform, which would be scorching, even this late in September, and a heavy pair of black boots. He pulled on his vest, stab proof and bullet proof, and his belt before he pulled on and laced his boots tightly. He grabbed his empty pistol from his locker, checked it over and, after deeming it safe, grabbed his badge from the shelf and clipped to his belt.

He stepped out into the hall and across to the equipment room, where he got three magazines of ammunition, once that went into the pistol itself and the other two into the pouches on the utility belt. He safety tested the gun again and, after making sure it was on safety, he slid it into it's holster.

Fully kitted, he looked fierce and he smiled dangerously as he thought of all the ways he was the perfect hunter. An Apex predator. A wolf in sheep's clothing. He looked young. He spoke with an optimism and sincerity that he only sometimes truly felt, disillusioned after more than a hundred years of wandering. He was disarming. People trusted him on instinct.

They didn't know that, in the blink of an eye, he could rip their throats out and not have a care in the world.

Chapter Text

The first time Julie called him when he moved to New York, Brad had only been slightly annoyed. He'd gotten as used to the idea of her and his best friend dating as best as he could and he desperately tried to ignore the twinge in his chest every time he thought about it. He'd been polite and business-like, explaining as patiently as possible that it wasn't any of their business that he'd moved out of town. His mom and his friends knew, and that's all that mattered.

The second time she'd called him in the city had been his first full day at the 4-9 and Brad received an indirect reprimand from his superior, which had colored the end of his conversation with her as he ended the call with a growled “No I will not come back for the wedding. Now leave me alone before I change my number!” He'd really wanted to add a few more choice words to that, but Ray and Walt were looking at him in annoyance. They needed to get going and Brad was holding them up.

He left his phone off after that.

The third time he answered with a growled “What?!” as he slammed his locker door shut, now dressed in his street clothes. Family Day had been hell on earth as child after child approached him and asked thousands upon thousands of questions and he'd been forced to answer every one with a bright smile and a light voice, always aware of parents hovering over their children like vicious hawks ready to tear him limb from limb for saying or doing the wrong thing.

His famous cool exterior was melting in the face of his anger and exhaustion and he was glad that the locker room was already empty at this point, because if not, he'd be getting some weird looks. “Julie, this has to stop. You cannot call me like this. In fact, you shouldn't be calling me at all! I tried to be friends with you and Jake, but I've had enough. Lose this number. And leave me the fuck alone!” He snarled and stabbed the end call button in annoyance before turning off his phone and removing the SIM card.

He'd get the number changed in the morning.

~*~*~*~*~*

Nate pulled the Ford Escape into the deserted parking lot at the head of the Kazimiroff nature trail and waited until Ray and Walt had gotten out before he popped the back hatch and turned the vehicle off, climbing out and then locking the door. One large duffel bag and and a cooler were pulled out by Ray, who promptly handed them off to Nate, before he shut the hatch and they made their way down the trail for a few hundred feet.

“I'm surprised the guard let us in. Hunter Island is supposed to be closed to the public at this hour.” Walt said and Nate smiled. “The guard was a Shifter, Walt. I'm sure Ray will teach you to spot other Shifters and Weres after you've settled into your powers a bit more. This is only you're second full moon.” Walt made an “Oh” sound in his chest and Ray smiled.

“Don't worry. I'm not that bad of a sponsor that I won't teach you the basics. No siree! I'll teach you everything Nate taught me. And then some.” He added suggestively at the end, wriggling his eyebrows and pulling a half-startled, half-embarrassed giggle out of the younger man. Nate snorted. “Ray was an okay student and I was pleased to find out that at least half of what I was saying sunk into his brain through that steel-plate skull of his.”

Ray made a mock outraged sound in his throat, bent down to grab a stick, and promptly flung it at Nate's head, hitting him square. Nate stopped in his tracks, set the cooler and duffel bag down on the ground and, faster than Walt could comprehend, there was a squelch down and, standing over the pile of clothes that Nate had once worn, was a large light gray wolf. He growled at Ray and dropped into a hunting crouch that Walt was sure Nate had ripped off from a cat because wolves did not do that. Ray made a startled sound and did the same, his form being replaced by a slightly smaller dark brown wolf. There a minute of tense silence before Nate-wolf barked and both shot off the trail and into the inner-forest, leaving Walt with the containers and their clothes.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Sometimes the older supernaturals were just as bad as the younger ones, if not worse. He bundled up the clothes of the older men and stuffed them into the empty duffel bag before he gathered up that and the cooler. As he veered off the trail further into the inner-forest, he listened to the other two.

There was constant crashing punctuated by barking and baying before, to Walt's surprise, there was another squelch sound and a very satisfied roar, accompanied by an aggravated yelp. It sounded like Nate had shifted again into something that could easily catch Ray and to Ray, that was cheating. Walt finally entered the large clearing where they met for the full moon Run and was just in time to see a very smug looking tiger dragging in the wolf by the extra skin between his shoulders.

There was a soft brush in the back of his mind and he grabbed for it, recognizing it as one of the two before him trying to contact him. Weres and Shifters could not speak out loud, but more communicated by a sort of telepathy, a network of communication that only used their minds. You almost always had to ask permission before connecting with another supernatural and everyone could talk to everyone.

“Will you please tell Tigger here to put me the fuck down! His teeth hurt! He's turning my neck into Swiss cheese!” Walt chuckled and, concentrating hard, he reached out into the void that surround his mind, brushing up against Nate's mind almost timidly. He was granted access immediately. “Ray asks that you please 'put him the fuck down'. Something about teeth and cheese.”

The tiger made a sort of huffing sound that Walt would later swear was laughter and opened his jaws, allowing Ray to drop to the ground. The wolf scrabbled up and, after glaring at Nate for a minute, looked at Walt expectantly. Walt rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Fine fine.” He said aloud and opened the duffel bag. Unlike the two older men, he stripped out of his clothes before shifting, hoping to keep them from damage.

Once he was ready, he dug deep and, with surprising ease, there was a squelch sound, and suddenly he was much lower to the ground than before. Nate had to look down, so far that his chin brushed the fur on his chest. “I'll never get over the fact that you're a WereClouded-Leopard. I didn't even know that could happen.” He heard Ray's voice and curled his lip in mock disdain, showing off long, razor sharp teeth. "Now Ray. this isn't the weirdest thing I've ever seen. No, the weirdest is the Werefrog I met in 1956. now THAT was weird. A WereClouded-Leopard? Nothing Weird about that. I am assured of this.

That was Nate's ever-calm and reasonable voice and Walt gave a smirk the best he could, tail curling in delight and amusement.

“Now gentlemen, let's get this show on the road. We don't have all night.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two days later, Nate was walking the squad floor, helping his men and directing traffic, so to speak. He was in uniform still, having had another press conference about the raid this morning and he hadn't bothered to slip back into a suit, actually much rather preferring his current attire.

“LT, lost looking woman at the door.” Rudy said from his desk and then made a motion to come closer, so Nate did, leaning down to hear what the other man had to say. “She's a Were. I can smell her from here. Bear, if I'm not mistaken. Watch your back LT. Werebears are the crazy ones.” Nate nodded his head in agreement. He'd heard stories about Werebears before. None of them pretty. “I'll take it under advisement. Thanks for the heads-up, Rudy.” He said.

“No problem Brother.” Nate straightened up and walked over to the door. “Ma'am, anything I can help you with? You look a little lost.” He said pleasantly, trying not to raise suspicion. Using a trick Mike had taught him, he masked his mind and gently wormed his way into her's, listening in. She never felt him coming.

“Oh god he's a shifter and he's an older one and I hope he doesn't ask for permission to enter my head because I can't hide my thoughts and I can't fight him he's too strong and I'll never win and he'll report me to the council for this and I'll never be heard from again and then the plan will fall apart and he'll be so disappointed in me-”

Nate pulled back a little and just barely resisted the urge to growl. Her thoughts were jumbled with panic and he could smell the drugs on her and he wondered if she even knew she was high at that point. She didn't look it though, dressed immaculately in a pantsuit with her brunette hair done up fashionably.

“Is Brad Colbert here?” Nate blinked. Was this the mysterious girlfriend Colbert had been fighting with before? He steeled himself and dove back into her mind as he spoke. “I'm sorry, Miss-?” he trailed off questioningly. “Mrs. Logan. Forgive my lack of manners.” Nate brushed it off. “Quite alright. But I'm afraid Detective Colbert is out on a call right now, and won't be back for some time. Perhaps I could take a message for you? Unless its of extreme importance, in which case I could call his cellphone for you.”

She leaned forward to peer at his name tag. “Well...Lieutenant Fick, a message would be wonderful, so long as he gets it very soon.” Nate nodded. “Of course. Give me a moment.” He reached to his belt and pulled up the notepad and pen. “Go ahead.” He looked at her with bright green eyes. “Just tell him Julie stopped by and I'll meet him at his house tonight, if he has the time, to discuss settling the property claims.”

“Please don't be in my head you can't know about the gun or the drugs. Why does he have Brad's number I bet this is the whore Brad left Oceanside for he left my bed for this piece of shit nonononono Brad is MINE you can't have him you son of a bitch I'll get him tonight he's mine and I'll take him back to California and he can stay at the cabin and Jake will make sure he behaves and I'll have him and no one else and-”

Nate felt his chest constrict and this time the growl seeped out between clenched teeth despite his best efforts to keep himself quiet and he scurried to cover it up with a cough. This crazy ass bitch was going to try and kidnap someone in his Clan's territory?

Not gonna happen. Not on his watch. He may not know Colbert very well, but nothing excused a Were using her powers for revenge. If he had anything to say about this, this woman wouldn't get her hands on anything but a death warrant.

Chapter Text

Once the woman, Julie, had left, Nate strode over to Rudy, face drawn and grim. “Alert the others. Emergency meeting in the parade room, one hour. Call Ray and Walt in and send someone else to handle the Douglas case with Colbert.” Rudy looked like he wanted to ask more but Nate's face said everything.

Shit was about to hit the fan.

Rudy nodded and Nate turned on his heels and made for the stairs, bounding up them two at a time and fast-walking until he was standing in front of Captain Wynn's office. “Mike!” He called, hoping to be heard over the country music filtering in from the computer speakers on his desk. Wynn looked up and motioned for Nate to come in.

Once Nate was inside he motioned for Wynn to keep the music slightly up. “You look like someone just stole your service weapon Nate. What's going on?” He asked and Nate came to sit in front of the desk. “I was just downstairs with a Werebear by the name of Julie Logan. She was looking for Detective Colbert. I smelled drugs on her, but she didn't act high, so I used the trick you taught me and I entered her mind. Her thoughts were going about a thousand miles an hour and I managed to catch a brief glimpse of some very bad sh-stuff coming our way.”

Wynn made a motion for him to continue and Nate took a deep breath. “She's the ex-girlfriend of Detective Colbert and she was thinking something about a Jake and how Colbert left California for some piece of ass and she thought it was me. So I told her that he was out on a case and I could take a message. She wants to meet him at his house after dark to discuss something about property claims but at the same time she was thinking that she'd take him back to California and this Jake person could make Colbert behave and there was even something about a gun and drugs.”

Wynn was rubbing a hand across his face. “Nate, deep breath. That's too much at once, even for me. Say real clear and slow, what you think is going to happen.” He coached. Nate did as he was bade and took a few minutes to center himself. His inner self had taken control for a minute in his sudden rush of anger. “Julie Logan is a Werebear and Detective Colbert's Ex-girlfriend. She's with someone named Jake, but still wants Colbert, and thinks he left California for another person. She was drugged, but only her thoughts showed it and drugs and a gun were mentioned. She's going to meet Colbert at his house tonight and I feel that, once inside she will incapacitate and abduct Colbert by any means necessary.”

“Nate these are very serious accusations. Do you want to bring this before the Council?” Nate shook his head. “No. Maybe if a few of us watch the house for a few nights, she'll think he's under protection and leave or we can get proof of what she intends. I've read his file, he lives in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors. Nobody would think twice about a few stray dogs and a cat or two. We can use Rudy, Walt and Detective Cass to cover the approach and the rest of us will the flank the house.”

Wynn nodded. “Say I approve this and she comes to the house and tries something anyway. How are you going to rescue Colbert and subdue a bear?” Wynn asked, feeling out the entire mission. “Should she actually get in the house and make a move for Colbert, then all bets are off. The Council ruled that if a supernatural sees a crime being committed, then they have permission to engage full force, no matter the risk, to protect a human life. Chances are Colbert would be down and out by that point anyway.” He felt kind of callous saying that, but it was true.

Wynn seemed to think about it for a minute before he nodded. “Alright. Gather who you want, I'll join you guys as well.” Nate nodded. “We'll be in the parade room in forty-five minutes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nate waited until everyone had settled into seats before he addressed the room at large. “Alright. I know none of you were expecting a meeting so close to the Run, but something has come up.” The room was silent and Nate continued. “I met a Werebear today who I believe to have plans to kidnap a human in this precinct and who also seems to have connections with drugs. Has anyone heard the name Julie Logan before? Or perhaps Jake Logan?” He asked. Ray's hand went up.

“Yes Ray?” He asked. “Brad has been bitching about his ex, Julie since day one, Apparently she wouldn't stop calling him, so he had to switch his cell number and then she wouldn't stop e-mailing him, so he had to switch that too. She wanted him to go to California for the wedding. You know the bitch of it? That disease-riddled ho-bag is marrying his best friend, Jake Logan.” The room fell silent.

“You don't think the wedding invitation was a trick to get him to California, where they could catch him more easily and when he repeatedly turned down the invitation, she had to come here?” That was Lieutenant Eric Kocher of the 5-2, a Shifter and Nate's direct partner in running the Clan under Mike. “It makes sense. If Colbert had gotten on a plane willingly to California and just “decided” to stay, no-one would have said a word. Its more difficult for them now because they're going to try and take him from his home.” Rudy chimed in and Nate was nodding slowly.

“She told me she was here to settle “property claims”. What if he suddenly came into some money and a new house in California and he left? That must be their new cover for his disappearance. If one of us suddenly hit it rich and we had to move out of the state, the only thing the others would have done was curse him and demand to be allowed to visit whenever be wanted to.” Slowly it was all falling into place and the others were beginning to bristle.

“He's just a human. He's not Tied to her that we can see. What does she want with him?” Nate shrugged and subsided for a minute. “Right now, our biggest concern is keeping Colbert out of her hands and here in New York until we can gather enough evidence to bring forth to the Council. Right now, all we have is supposition and circumstantial evidence that would never hold up. Ideally, she'd let one of us in willingly and we could hear what she was thinking, making it admissible evidence or she could leave a trail or even if she made a failed attempt on Colbert. I would prefer the last one never happened though.” Wynn spoke up and they all nodded.

“This is your mission, LT. Tell them what they'll be up to.” Nate nodded and reached for a planning board behind him that held a sketch of a house and the surrounding area. “Colbert lives in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for kidnapping attempts, because there's no nosy neighbors, which means we have a lot of area to cover. Our best bet is to have Cass, Reyes, Hasser and one of the shifters take on their forms, the shifter can take on whatever form they're most comfortable with, and set up a perimeter within an eighth of mile of the house. The rest of the shifters will take on the form of dogs and cats, preferably more dogs.”

He received odd looks and allowed himself a brief smile. “No one is going to pay attention to a pack of stray dogs interested in a house in the middle of nowhere and cats like those kinds of places because of the copious amounts of mice. We're going for inconspicuous, so cats, dogs, hell if someone wants to be a deer, or some other adorable woodland creature, I won't stop you. But let's go with things that fit in with the scenery.” He stopped and took a deep breath.

“We're going to be doing this for a few nights, so significant others need to be informed. Complaints can be directed to me, because I'm dragging you all out to do this. Are there any questions?” There was nothing but silence in the room and Nate couldn't quite gauge their reactions, but he hoped he hadn't stepped on too many toes with this assignment.

Chapter Text

When Brad pulled his bike into his driveway that night, he had to stop and blink. Curled up on his porch was black and brown ball of fluff. It didn't move even as Brad stalked forward, backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey.” He said, loudly, and he watched as a small head became visible, bright green eyes looking at him. Brad cursed. It was just a little puppy. It was probably cold and hungry and terrified. Brad would never admit that he held a soft spot of dogs, having been the rescuer of many when he was young, despite his parents half-hearted at best protest.

“You can't sleep there.” He said sternly, though his heart wasn't really in it. The puppy stood up and Brad winced. The puppy's right paw was bleeding from where Brad could only guess he'd stepped on something sharp. “Jesus, dog. What did you do to yourself?” He asked heavily. He could already see where this was going.

The puppy gave him a pitiful look, only amplified by watery green eyes, and whimpered, paw close to his chest. Brad sighed again and stalked towards the porch, trying to look menacing. “You know, I don't like trespassers. Especially when they bleed all over my porch.” He had to get this puppy away or he was going to end up keeping it.

The puppy whimpered again before making a crying noise in his chest and Brad's heart clenched. Oh who was he kidding? He leaned down and scooped the puppy up into his arms, looking at him balefully. “Fine. You can come in for tonight only. If Person ever finds out I rescue stray dogs I'll never hear the end of it from his whiskey tango inbred ass.”

The puppy yipped quietly, seemingly out of energy for more than laying against Brad's chest and the man sighed, juggling his keys, his bag and the puppy so he could get inside. Once in his house he toed off his boots and flipped the lights on, locking the door behind him. What was he going to do with a puppy?

He leaned down and brushed his nose against the puppy's head and pulled back, wrinkling his nose and furrowing his brow.

“You smell. What did you do, lay in a puddle of motor oil and cowshit? You need a bath, especially if you think you're sleeping in this house.”

The puppy glared at him, but the effect was ruined by floppy ears and the overall cuteness that generally accompanied puppies.

He and the puppy made their way up the stairs and into the bathroom, where Brad deposited the bundle of fluff on the floor before leaning over to turn on the water. Once he was sure the water wasn't too hot or cold, he placed the stop in the drain and then set the puppy inside, watching with a smirk at the amazement the puppy seemed to hold for the running water.

“What, never been in a tub before.” He didn't even get a look in response and, sensing he was being ignored, he went over to the cabinet. He knew for a fact that he had some Johnson and Johnson No Tears shampoo leftover from California that would be perfect for cleaning a puppy without hurting a cut. Finding the bottle he grabbed it out and turned around.

The water was about four inches off the bottom and the puppy was sitting down, looking at him while he held his bad paw above the water. Brad shut the tap off and, knowing he would get wet, he shucked his shirt off before kneeling down. “You're lucky I have this stuff. I used to use it when I lived in California, when I got sun-burnt after surfing all day and forgetting to put sunscreen on. At least you won't smell like Irish Spring. I don't think that would go over well for a puppy. The others would probably make fun of you.”

The puppy was giving him a look, and Brad laughed despite himself. “Fine fine. Let's get this over with.”

he used his hands to wet the puppy down then scrubbed him all over before rinsing him down. He pulled the stop and grabbed a towel out of the linen closet, along with a hairdryer he kept for warming his clothes. “I'll dry you off and bandage your paw and we'll see where we go from there.” The puppy just looked at him, eyes wide.

He toweled off the dog and then plugged the blow-dryer in, which he worked all over until he was fluffy, warm and dry. He brought the puppy down into the kitchen and deposited him on the table. “Do not move. If you fall off the table, I have no guarantee you won't have a pug face when you get up.” He snickered quietly at the angry chuff he received and made his way to the hall closet, where he pulled down a medium black duffel bag.

One thing he'd learned while living in Oceanside was to always have a fully stocked first-aid kit within easy reach. Brad was a certified first responder, something he'd gotten licensed for in high school, and therefor had access to more medical materials than most people. He returned to the kitchen and put the bag on the island.

“Peroxide, gauze, stitch kit, Lidocaine, cotton fluff and roller bandages. Should work.” he moved his supplies to the table and then froze. Brad Colbert, the Iceman, unafraid of anything and everything, froze in horror. The puppy had dropped to his stomach and was whimpering quietly, gaze averted.

What the hell?

Brad put his supplies on the table and stepped forward couching down so he was eye level. The puppy closed his eyes and tried to move away, but yipped in pain as his bad paw made contact with table.

Brad didn't have any clue what to do.

Chapter Text

Brad dropped what was in his hands and knelt down so he was eye level with the puppy, who backpedaled further until his hind legs scrabbled against the narrow edge of the table, leaving him with nowhere to go.

“Hey. What's the matter with you?” He asked. They'd been doing so well up until Brad had brought the supplies over to the table and had turned around with the Lidocaine shot. Oh. He cursed himself as it dawned on him. Reaching behind him he picked up the syringe and brought it forth, which elicited another whimper from the puppy.

“I see. Not a fan of needles then, are you? Well your paw doesn't need the stitches. They were just a precaution. We'll just bandage you up then instead, yeah?” He put the syringe back on the counter and brought the Peroxide and a hand towel over instead.

The puppy watched him for a minute and Brad watched him back before the ball of fluff stood up and limped over. Brad smiled brilliantly and stood up before seating himself on the table and situating the puppy in his lap. “Now, if you sit still and don't fight me, we'll have this finished in no time and we can eat.” The puppy looked at him placidly and Brad knew it was the best he was gonna get out of him.

He opened the bottle of Peroxide and dampened the cloth before grabbing up the injured paw. He held the cloth to the wound and the puppy flinched back, whimpering quietly. “Shhh shhhh. I know it stings, but just give it a minute.” He soothed him and ran his free hand over the puppy's fluffy fur. The puppy quieted after a minute and Brad pulled the clothe away.

“See, not so bad, right?” He asked. He used a gauze pad to dry the area and then grabbed up the cotton fluff, which he threaded between the toes of his paw. He pressed a few pads against the wound and then wrapped the roller bandages around the paw and halfway up his leg, which he taped down. “Let's see if there's any Coban, so that bandage will stay in place.” He went back over to the bag and dug around until he pulled out a plastic package of green gauze-like material.

He ripped it open with his teeth and, after a bit of finagling, he got the wrap started and finished his bandage job. “There you go. All done. Let's test it out.” He picked the puppy up underneath his front legs and set him on the ground. The puppy seemed unsure and limped the first few steps before he gingerly set it down on the ground and took a cautious step forward, followed by another as he got more confident.

Content to leave the puppy for a minute and clean up his mess, Brad put the garbage in the bin, the leftovers back in the bag and the cloth was thrown in the sink. He zipped up the duffel bag and returned it to its spot in the closet. When he returned to the kitchen he couldn't help but smile warmly.

The puppy had found the folded bath towels Brad had left in the open pantry's bottom shelf and had tugged them into the corner of the room, where he'd made a little nest. Brad almost wished he could keep him, but with hours he kept at the station, he'd never be able to give it the care and attention it deserved.

“Hey, don't you want to eat first? Maybe drink something?” The puppy blinked stunning green eyes at him and yawned widely, dropping his head back down on the towel bed. Brad smirked. “I see. You're bored of me aren't you?” The puppy's head came up to level him with a placid look and he whuffled at him. “Ah. Alright then. I'll just leave some stuff out then and you can help yourself. Tomorrow, I''ll take you to the No-Kill shelter a few miles from here. They'll take care of you and you'll be adopted out in no time.” The puppy gave him a staid look through half-lidded eyes before closing them the rest of the way.

Brad went over to the fridge and pulled out the milk he had in there and some leftover chicken he had no intention of eating any time soon and shut the door with his foot. He dumped the milk in a saucepan and set it to warm while he dug through his cupboards for the small sack of cornmeal he kept there. He diced the chicken and dropped it in with the milk to warm before he grabbed down a bowl.

Once the milk was steaming he poured it and the chicken into the bowl and then mixed in the cornmeal until it was the consistency of oatmeal. “I used to make this when I rescued other puppies, when I was younger. I tried it once and it tastes good, even cold.” He said aloud as he turned around.

But it wasn't necessary. The puppy was already sprawled on his side, snoring quietly and Brad smiled. He put the bowl down on the ground a few feet away and left the kitchen, turning the lights out after him as he made his way to bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first gray tendrils of dawn were just creeping through the windows of the farmhouse kitchen and Nate hefted himself up. He limped his way over to the door and changed back brown and black fur receding, only to be replaced by smooth, tan skin. He grabbed a towel from the pile he'd spent the night on and wrapped it around his waist.

The back door wasn't locked and he crept outside to the clothes line, where hung the towel up on the wire and transformed into his preferred form, a large light gray wolf. The bandage on his wound had unraveled when he first transformed back into a human and he made sure to walk carefully, keeping the paw off the ground. He flitted into the undergrowth and made it a quarter mile before there was a soft brush at the back of his mind.

“Doc Bryan wants a look at you when you get back. We're in a clearing about half a mile from where you are.”

“Roger that, Gunny. On my way.” He said, continuing on his way without stopping.

About ten minutes later he weaved his way into a clearing where everyone else was in varying states of dress, some already completely clothed and others missing socks or shirts or other articles of clothing. A gruff looking man with a mustache was waiting for him with a change of clothes and a blue medical bag by his feet.

Nate morphed back and accepted the clothes, which he hastily pulled on in the early morning chill. “What did the perimeter look like while I was inside?” He asked looking over at the rest of the men.

“Mostly quiet. Rudy and Walt heard branches breaking to the east at around midnight and went to check it out, and they swear they smelt the disease-riddled bitch there, but there was no sign that would point to her definitively.” Ray reported and Nate groaned.

“We think she sensed all the Weres and Shifters in the area and figured it was a lost cause. For tonight, anyway.” Rudy guessed and Nate shrugged his shoulders, unsure of whether or not that was the case.

The gruff looking man had situated a headlamp on his forehead and was switching it to LED when he approached Nate and took his hand. “Glass? Or something else?”Nate shrugged his shoulders.

“I don't know. I cut it right before I made it to Colbert's porch and I could hear him coming up the drive so I just took up a spot. He cleaned and bandaged it while I was there.” The doctor was looking the wound over with intense eyes.

“This needs stitches. Didn't he have the things to stitch the wound closed?” Nate tensed and almost growled, pulling away from him, trying to back up a few paces, but he was blocked by a wall of muscle.

“Nate, my brother, you still have that Trypanophobia? You and I really should have a talk about that.” Rudy said with concern, hands braced on Nate's shoulders as he steadied him. “Come on. Sit down and you and I'll meditate while the good doctor patches you up.” He led Nate over and they both took a seat on a boulder.

Rudy led a quiet chant for a few minutes and, before Nate knew it, his hand was stitched up and wrapped in gauze half way up his arm. “See brother. Meditation is all it takes.” Nate smiled good-naturedly and behind him Ray broke into peals of laughter.

“Rudy that is the most Grade-A Special Ed load of horseshit that I've ever heard. And I've been around for more than seventy-five years!” He cackled. Rudy cuffed him around the ears fondly and everyone finished getting ready to leave. Nate pulled on his shoes and looked up as Wynn made his way over.

“I think we had too many people in one place. She needs to think he's under protection, not full-time watch. If we leave Rudy, Jamie, Walt and another on a far perimeter patrol, I can handle an inside watch. Keep it quiet and fast, pass the house at set intervals, we'll look like a protection detail, not an army. We make the pattern predictable enough, she might try something. We can keep a team on standby somewhere nearby where they can rest, but still be ready to move at a moment's notice.”

Wynn nodded his head. “Its a solid plan, Nate and I'm sure everyone will agree. They've really taken a shine to Colbert. And you know the older ones hate to see the Old Ways trampled on in this manner. You're young Nate, even at a hundred and thirty-five years old, but even you know what kind of pressure we're under to keep people from abusing their powers. No one wants to see Colbert taken against his will. And they'll fight to keep him here.”

Chapter Text

The first night Brad saw the wolf making circles around his house, he chalked it up to an illusion brought on by endless hours at the station, very little sleep and extreme amounts of caffeine in the form of the burnt coffee they served at the station house. He did lock all his windows that night though, paranoia slipping through his usual facade of cool calmness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Colbert, you look tired. Not been getting enough sleep, have you?” He looked up at the warm and friendly voice of the man standing behind him, trying to force his usual smirk to his face, but failing miserably. “Sleeping just fine, LT.” He shot back, signing off on another of Walt's field reports and setting it on top of the ever-growing pile by his elbow.

“Stay sharp, Colbert. Babysitting Person is a full-time job.” Ray squawked indignantly from his spot behind his own desk, flipping Nate the bird in a dramatic fashion, causing Walt to bury his face in his hands in embarrassment at his partner's behavior. Nate laughed and patted Brad on the shoulder.

“The real reason I'm down here, I confess, is not to stalk your sleeping habits. Captain Wynn wants to see you in his office.” He said, stepping back so Brad could leave his chair and follow him up the stairs to the upper level. Nate left him outside the Captain's office with a smirk of his own and a wink before he descended the steps again and moved his way onto the squad floor, calling everybody for Parade.

Brad knocked on the wooden door before him, two sharp raps before taking a step back. There was the sound of shuffling papers within and a minute later the music that had filled the background minutes ago was muted. “Come in!” He heard and he opened the door.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” He asked. Wynn chuckled and gestured to the seat in front of him.

“Call me Gunny, Detective Colbert. Nobody calls me Captain unless the Brass are around. Have a seat.” He said warmly, and Brad did, sinking into the plush seat with a sigh. So much more comfortable than his desk chair.

“So how are you settling in, Brad? You like it here?” He asked. Brad gave him a confused looked for a minute before he nodded.

“Good, sir. I like it here. Why?” He asked, looking at Wynn with a more pronounced look of confusion

“I don't know how they did it out in Oceanside, Detective Colbert, but here in New York, we take care of each other. If you're not happy, then I need to know so I can try to fix it. The 4-9 works the most dangerous part of The Bronx. Detectives and officers who run themselves into the ground trying to please me and the brass make stupid mistakes that get them injured or killed. Unhappy detectives and officers are more likely to be lazy and let innocent people be hurt.”

Brad nodded. His CO in Oceanside had rarely checked on the well-being of the men in the precinct and he'd seen plenty of examples of what the Captain was talking about at the minute.

“Lieutenant Fick has brought to my attention you work schedule over the last month since you arrived. You've worked more night shifts and overtime in a squad car then most of my men here work in three times that. You need to slow it down a little before you burn out.”

Brad felt like a child being scolded for having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and he nodded, grudgingly admitting the Captain did have a point.

“After today, I want you to take two days off, paid vacation. Go camping, laze about on your couch, have sex with anything that has legs. I don't care. But I best not see you in here until Thursday, understood Detective Colbert?” Brad nodded his head and Wynn smiled.

“Good, then you can head back downstairs. You might be able to catch the end of Parade with the rest of them before you head out for the day.” Brad nodded, bid farewell and left the office to finish his work for the day before he started his vacation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The second night Brad saw the wolf loping around his house, he called animal control and told them there was a very large coyote around his house. The next day a woman, tall and burly, carrying a tranquilizer gun and one of the supposed “humane” traps arrived at his house at mid-afternoon.

“Name's Daisy.” She said, in a surprisingly feminine voice in complete contrast to her body, and held out her hand, which Brad shook. “Hear you been having some coyote problems, Mr. Colbert.” She said.

“I have.” He confirmed. “I've seen it a few times now. He sits down by my porch and walks around the house. I just want to have it relocated somewhere else. My neighbor hasn't seen it yet, but he has cats that could get hurt.” He reasoned, though it was a lie. His nearest neighbor was over half a mile away and he was pretty sure they didn't have cats.

“Not a problem Mr. Colbert. Why don't you show me where it likes to sit near your porch and we'll put this trap down.” She said. Brad led her around the farmhouse to the back porch and pointed to a patch of tall grass that was trampled down all around and she nodded, seemingly pleased.

“The grass will make it easier to hide.” She explained her expression and knelt down. She situated the trap and set it before standing up.

“Are you sure that won't hurt it?” He asked, his reservations about setting such a barbaric contraption for his nocturnal visitor showing. Daisy smiled in understanding and went to the tree-line, shuffling around in the undergrowth for a minute before returning with a stick, which Brad guessed was roughly the size of a full grown coyote's leg.

She knelt down by the trap and pushed the stick down on the trigger and the trap sprang shut around it with a harsh metallic sound. She opened the trap again and reset it, holding the untouched stick up for Brad to see. “The padded plastic is small enough to hold the animal but not hurt it unduly.”

Brad nodded, worries assuaged for a minute and Daisy stood, shifting the tranquilizer gun on her back. “With you permission, I'll follow the tracks he left and see if I can't spot his den. Maybe you won't have to use the trap at all.”

“Go ahead. I'll be in the house or the garage if you need anything. Feel free to use the house's bathroom if you need to.” He said, trying to play the good host. Daisy said her thanks and disappeared into the woods, leaving Brad alone again in his yard.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That night, Brad made his dinner with an air of apprehension he'd carried only once before, when he was ten and he had been forced into a solo for music class for the spring concert at his school.

Something just felt wrong.

After a dinner that went down dry and almost tasteless he grabbed a beer from the fridge and slumped into his recliner, turning on the baseball game. His mind wandered as the night went on. His life certainly had taken a turn for the strange since he'd arrived here.

He couldn't help but feel bad about the puppy he'd rescued that had disappeared the next morning, the only sign he'd ever been there the half-eaten bowl of cornmeal mush and a mound of towels with a puppy-sized impression.

As the night wore on, Brad dozed in his chair, beer bottle forgotten on the table, TV announcing the win of the Tigers to a silent audience.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brad was awoken later by a shrill yelp.

He jolted upright in his chair and scrabbled to his feet, usual icy calm replaced with something terribly close to fear adrenaline suffusing his system so fast he almost shook with it. He pulled on his boots and grabbed his service weapon and the house phone, stomping to the back door.

What he saw brought him up short and he dropped the phone in shock, service weapon hanging loosely from his other hand as he stared uncomprehendingly at the sight before him, chest constricting. The trap had been set off alright, and it had worked, trapping its prey in its steel grasp. But it wasn't the coyote he'd seen.

Knelt in the patch of tall grass, naked as the day he was born, whining and whimpering as he struggled against the trap that held him captive, was Lieutenant Nate Fick.

Chapter Text

For the first time in a long time, Brad was helpless. And clueless. He stood on the porch for a split second longer before, without really thinking about it, he stepped down and made his way over to Nate.

He wasn't expecting that snarl that ripped from Nate's chest, an animal sound of fear, pain and anger rolled all in one. His green eyes were bright and glassy, staring at him like knives and he tried to back up further, but the trap, meant to hold only a coyote's leg, had his much larger arm in a steel lock that wasn't going to let up anytime soon.

Then, it hit Brad like a freight train.

Nate didn't recognize him. It was the only way to explain his violent reaction to Brad's presence getting closer to him. Brad stopped in his tracks and stared at the sight before, truly having no idea how he was going to handle this. Nate seemed to settle a little when he stopped advancing and he went back to trying to free himself from the trap. Brad took this momentary lull to take in his new dilemma.

One, it was the middle of the night and his, very human, police lieutenant was naked in his yard, stuck in an animal trap. Two, Nate didn't recognize him, which would make freeing the other man that much more difficult. Three, Nate didn't seem to being thinking very straight. Or thinking at all for the matter. He was pawing uselessly at the spring of the trap, growls of frustration and pain leaking out between clenched teeth.

First things first. He needed to get Nate loose so he could get him medical help.

He crouched down to a much lower level and, hoping he didn't sound utterly ridiculous, began talking to the other man in a low, soothing voice.

“Nate? Nate it's me. Detective Colbert. You, uh- you seem to be stuck in a trap I had set for a coyote on my property.” He could tell he wasn't having a very calming effect on Nate, because the other man still and tensed, growling quietly as he looked down and to Brad's left side. Brad followed his gaze and understood.

It was his service weapon.

Carefully, he brought it up, wincing at the frightened snarl it pulled from the other man, and discharged the magazine and emptied the chamber, tossing it all to the side and out of view in the tall grass. This seemed to assuage Nate's primal fear for a minute. He tried talking to the other man again, creeping ever closer.

“I really need to help you out of that trap. Your arm's gonna get all mangled if you keep it in there. I promise I won't hurt you. I never meant to hurt you.” He said, voice low and comforting. Nate seemed to respond to this, because his snarling tapered off into whining. Brad crept the last few inches until he was kneeling in front of the trap doing his best not to spook Nate.

Brad looked at his colleague's trapped limb and winced. He may not have been a doctor, but it didn't take some pretentious asshole with eight years of schooling to tell him that Nate's arm was broken all the way through and he would need weeks in a cast before his arm was even remotely functional again. Cautiously he reached his hands out and placed them on the trigger release for the trap.

Nate tensed, but didn't move, which made his job slightly easier and he pushed down until the jaws snapped open, effectively freeing the other man. What he wasn't expecting was the hard ball of fur and anger that bowled into him from the side and he was knocked clear sideways, skidding a few feet from where Nate still crouched. In the place where he'd once crouch, standing over Nate protectively was a dark brown wolf, snarling ferociously at him.

Nate, seemingly regaining his mind or maybe by instinct, dug his good hand in the wolf's thick ruff, tugging gently. This move seemed to get its attention because it turned sharp golden eyes to Nate before nodding once, sharply, and nudging Nate to his feet. Nate shook with pain and what Brad could almost be sure was exhaustion and both man and wolf turned around, limping into the underbrush.

Brad remained flat on the ground as the full moon glinted off the gathering dew around him, unsure if he'd really seen what he thought he'd just seen or if, after leaving his home of ten years, he'd finally lost his mind completely.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nate didn't show up for work until Saturday afternoon, arm wrapped in a heavy, blue and much doodled upon, plaster cast, supported by a black sling that clashed with his white button down shirt. He was immediately set upon by several officers and detectives, who asked him question after question until Nate backed them off gently.

“What did you do, LT?” Jamie Cass asked, looking at the other man with concerned brown eyes. Nate rolled his eyes good-naturedly and sat on the corner of Walt's desk, which the younger man had cleaned of for him to rest on. Nate nodded his thanks to Walt before he began speaking.

“First of all, calm down. It's not like I was hit by a car or anything even remotely like that. I was at my sister's house and her daughter's cat climbed up a tree and couldn't get down. I climbed up to get it and I lost my footing. Simple as that. The police surgeon told me to take a few days off so I could rest up before having to come back here and deal with your rowdy asses with only one arm.” He received a few jabs for that, but the tale seemed to calm some of the tension on the squad floor.

“Well it's good to have you back, LT. We thought Gunny was going to have kittens when he heard about the accident and Walt spent most of Wednesday looking like somebody shot his puppy.” Ray could be heard clear across the room and Nate rolled his eyes at the younger man, smiling at Walt's blush and patting the younger man on the shoulder.

“Alright that's enough. Let the LT alone for a little bit.” Was heard from the stairs and Nate looked over to see Sergeant Rudy Reyes descending the steps with a grin as he made his way over. He wrapped Nate in a tight hug, mindful of his injured arm and patted him strongly on the back. “Gunny wants to see you when he get's back from his meeting later. My brother, you are in all kinds of trouble.” He said warmly, to which Nate rolled his eyes.

The others had already drifted off again to resume their work when Brad approached the other man, unsure if he was going to get another snarl in response or if Nate was back to being the cool, calm and in-charge lieutenant the precinct had fallen in love with.

“Lieutenant Fick?” He asked and the man in question turned around, flashing him a smile. But his eyes said something else. They were sharp and and nervous and he shifted his weight almost imperceptibly.

“Glad to see you're safe, Lieutenant.” He said, instead of one of the million questions that were burning on the tip of his tongue.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The squad floor was devoid of life save for Brad himself, working in the dark by the light of his desk lamp, fussing over a last minute report for the case he'd closed today. The only other light on was the light from an office on the upper level and from the angle he couldn't tell if it was the Captain's or the Lieutenant's office that was lit up.

Finishing the report with a heavy sigh, he signed and stapled it together and stood from his chair and began to climb the stairs. From this angle he could tell it was the Lieutenant's office that was lit up and he sighed in relief, He needed to drop this off and head home before he fell over from exhaustion. He stepped to the door and was about to knock and ask entrance when he heard an odd noise coming from inside.

Sniffing.

What the hell?

As surreptitiously as possible he leaned over and peered into the window that bracketed the door and gaped. Wynn had Nate backed up against the desk, the office chair pushed back and away. Wynn had Nate pinned to the desk by his wrist and waist, his nose drawing paths over his neck, shoulders, chest and face, his face dark and the oddest growling sound escaping his chest.

Brad stumbled back, fearing he had stumbled upon something he wasn't meant to see and was about to high-tail it to steps to get away when he heard Nate's voice, calming and patient.

“I'm fine, Mike. No other injuries besides my arm. You can stop checking now.” He said patiently. Brad, after fighting himself for a minute, reinstated his gaze through the window in time to see Wynn reach a hand back and grab Nate's scruff firmly, giving two rough shakes before Nate bowed his head in his grasp, submitting to the man before him's authority over him.

“We nearly lost you, Nate. Your carelessness got you injured, outed and almost killed!” The snarl that was Wynn's voice seemed to startle Nate, because the younger man froze for a minute before leaning forward and nudging his nose against Wynn's jaw, a tiny whimpering sound escaping his throat.

This act of submission seemed to calm Wynn, if only a little and he looked at Nate sharply. “I did not save your skinny ass from a Swedish blizzard, just to lose you half a century later to some human!” Nate retained a submissive stance and Wynn calmed further.

“Do you have any idea how upset the Clan was when Ray told us he'd dropped you off at Doc Bryan's place because you'd been caught in an animal trap? Walt fainted! Pappy had to keep Rudy from going to Colbert's house and wringing his neck! Or worse, shifting and eating his face, which Poke was only too willing to help with.” Nate blinked wide green eyes at the older man and felt guilt. He'd caused so much trouble for his Clan.

Wynn softened and released the pin he'd restrained Nate with, instead gathering him up in a fatherly hug. “Jesus Nate you scared the shit out of all of us. Forget Colbert. We'll deal with him later. You need to have a talk with Walt and Rudy and all the others. And elder Shasta wants a word with you as well.” Nate paled and Wynn chuckled, patting his back. “Don't worry. I won't let her eat you. Or feed her to her pride of mini-lions, as Ray so lovingly refers to her pet cats.”

Outside the office, Brad stood in stunned silence. Not only at the scene he's just witnessed but at the fact that his suspicions had been confirmed and he wasn't crazy.

He had caught that coyote before. Except, it wasn't a coyote at all. It had been Nate.

And Nate wasn't a human at all.

Chapter Text

Nate pulled the Escape to a stop in front of the ranch-style house in Camp Hill, a peaceful hamlet in the southern part of Haverstraw. He took a deep breath, turned off the SUV and climbed out, making his way steadily up the walkway to the house. He knocked loudly and stepped back so the door could swing open, revealing a smiling young man.

“Nathaniel! So good to see you again.” He said warmly, pulling the other man into a warm hug, being mindful of the injured arm Nate still had. He let him go and took a step back. “Come in come in. Elder Shasta is waiting for you on the back porch.”

“Alright. And it's good to see you as well, Allan. Gray Warren hasn't been the same since you left last year.” He smiled and followed Allan through the house, making sure not to track dust on the rugs. Cats swarmed him and twined their bodies through the space between his legs, purring at him thunderously. Allan held a wide set of double doors open for him, which led to the porch outside.

“I'll bring the coffee around shortly.” Allan said, like the good host he'd always been and Nate nodded and went through the doors. Lounging on a soft looking couch, looking deceptively young for her centuries on this earth, was Elder Shasta. She looked hardly older than thirty-five at the most, with flowing blonde hair and sharp, mischievous green eyes and a smile that never seemed to stop.

“Nathaniel!” She crowed, leaving the chair to wrap him in a nearly bone-crushing hug, moving his injured arm out of the way so she could give him one of the full-force greetings she was known for. “Look at you! You've actually gotten bigger since the last time I saw you, you damned shrimp!” She said teasingly.

“Elder Shasta! I'm supposed to bow when I get here! Not have my ribs broken by your hugs!” He said nervously. Elder Shasta pulled back with a snort and she flicked her hair out of the way so she could level him with the full power of a deadpan stare. Conscious that, despite her appearance and behavior, he was still talking to the head of the New York State Council, he bowed his head, wary he'd taken a sharp tone of voice with her.

“Nathaniel, do us all a favor and remove the stick from up your ass. Please?” A voice said from the doorway and both Nate and Shasta turned to look, Shasta's face lighting up.

“Husband!” She shouted enthusiastically through her giggles at his joke and she flitted over to the door to embrace their visitor. He was tall, tan and smiling roguishly, winking at Nate in a friendly manner as he wrapped his arm around Shasta's waist and leaned down to peck her on the cheek.

“Look kid, I know you grew up when you were supposed to show nothing but the utmost respect to your elders and all, but so did I and even I know Shasta hates being treated like an Elder outside of chambers. So calm down and join us in the sitting room. Allan's got the coffee all finished up and ready.”

Nate nodded. “Sure thing, Josh.” He answered and followed the pair inside. Everyone toed off their shoes on the rug right inside the door and made their way into the lavish sitting room, which was decorated in a dark maroon with golden accents. Nate sunk into a plush chair and sighed as he accepted a cup of coffee gratefully from Allan, who set it by his good side, already made the way he liked it.

“Thanks Allan.” He said, receiving a nod. Once Allan was sure everyone was settled he left them to their business.

“So Nate. I heard you ran afoul of a human you and a few of your Clanmates were protecting. I believe it was the one you sent us a letter about a month ago. A Werebear after her Ex for illicit purposes, if I remember correctly?” He gave his affirmative and Josh produced a file from the table next to the couch he and Shasta were sitting on.

“As you know, Nate, I run Human Resources, for the humans affiliated with the Packs and Clans of the state. I got a hold of the HR Head in California, thinking that maybe Mr. Colbert escaped a Tie with a Were or Shifter out there. As far as they were concerned, Brad Colbert has never even remotely shown on their radar, let alone been Tied to someone. Then, Allan thought that maybe the Ex got a taste of his blood and found Essence there, and he just hadn't come into his powers yet.”

Nate leaned forward to hear this part. If they were dealing with a still sealed Shifter or Were who just hadn't come into their powers yet, then protecting Brad Colbert would become much easier. He could be introduced to one of the Packs or Clans and be guarded like that.

“It was a little more difficult than usual to get his parental history, because he was adopted at only a few months old, but with a little help from the supernatural contacts in the government, we pulled his actual bloodline records for one hundred years and compared them against every record we have. The last supernatural in his bloodline was his Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandfather, who was a Werelion.”

“What about an undocumented supernatural? Not everyone follows the law and registers after the first shift. And even if they want to, not everyone has an experienced Were or Shifter with them the first time, so they don't know who to report too anyway.”

“We thought about that.” Josh said and he rifled through his file for a minute before handing Nate a sheath of papers. “As you know, everyone is required to submit to a drug test when they first apply for a job in law enforcement and that agency is required to keep samples for retesting up to three months after the fact. We got the samples Brad gave last month and ran the hormone test on them. Nothing. Brad Colbert is completely human. His Ex wants him for illegal things only. No Tie. No Essence.”

That complicated matters a lot. Not just for Nate, or the Council. Not just for his Clan. But for the whole supernatural community. Right now there was human running around, unchecked, with thoughts that could out the whole lot of them with disastrous results.

“What happened when he found you, Nate?” Shasta asked. Nate sat back with a sigh.

“I don't know. Ray says when he found me, I was still going completely off Instinct at that point, and that was at least ten minutes after the trap got me. Doc Bryan said I didn't start using full words until well after he got the pain medicine in me. Full sentences didn't start until after my arm was in a cast.”

Shasta looked shocked. “You had a prolonged fit of Instinct for over an hour after a forced shift?” She asked and Nate nodded. “Nathaniel that's almost unheard of. What did Doc Bryan have to say about it?” She asked and Nate finished his coffee before he responded.

“He said it happens occasionally. The trauma of getting caught, effectively shattering the entirety of my upper arm and the stress of possibly being outed prolonged the fit. Plus, the stimuli following the trauma, having a stranger release me from the trap and then being shuffled off to a busy ER, only made it worse.” Shasta nodded and her faced darkened.

“Nathaniel. You know we need to do something about this human and we need to do it fast. He can't be out there gallivanting about unattended to. Humans who get ideas in their heads about our kind usually end up causing some kind of damage or another.”

Nate sighed and placed his face in his good hand. “What are our options?” He asked, knowing he wasn't going to like his answer.

“We have three.” Josh started and stopped, looking a little pale in the face, so Shasta spoke for him.

“We Bond and Tie him, we imprison him for life or we have the cleaners do a real good job of sanitizing his place when the Task Force gets done with him.”

In other words, Brad's options were slim.

Subjugation, Imprisonment or Death.

Chapter Text

For the longest time after that night, when he witnessed the scene between Nate and the Wynn, Brad tried to force the crazy ideas in his mind to the back, certain they were nothing but his imagination running wild on him.

But suddenly, three weeks after Nate was caught in his backyard, Ray and Walt became much more excitable than usual. Nate and Rudy, who were usually content to work in their offices during normal hours, became restless and started going out on patrol with the others and even Wynn was showing signs of malaise.

Brad wracked his brain after this started happening, letting his thoughts get the better of him, his famed commonsense leaving him as looked over website after website, trying to see if there were mental illnesses that were known to strike multiple people at once when they worked in close quarters with each other. Nothing.

Finally, internally beating himself up as he did it, Brad pulled up a Moon Phase calender on the computer and typed in the month and date. He didn't like what came up. Highlighted on the calender in blue was a series of three squares, each indicating that they had a full moon that night. Brad groaned and let his head fall to the desk of his home office with a thump.

For a while he tried to reason with himself. No. There was no such things as mythological Were-Animals or Shapeshifters. Nate was probably just a nudist who got caught in the trap by accident. Or he was a delinquent of some kind and he'd been high that night, which would explain why he didn't recognize Brad when he tried to release him from the trap.

But that didn't explain the brown wolf that had attacked him to protect the man after Brad released him and it certainly didn't explain the scene in Nate's office a few days later. Wynn's obsessive check-over of Nate for injuries, the neck grab and Nate's completely submissive behavior to the other man made no sense at all in any context.

Brad made a high-pitched annoyed sound high in his chest and stood up from his desk with force, sending the chair screeching away and into the wall. He began to pace back and forth rapidly, his brain compiling facts against his better judgment.

First, the suddenly erratic, nearly frenetic behavior the past few days, coinciding with the full moon was impossible to ignore. The scene in the office could be deconstructed as some strange sex-game that Nate and Wynn were into, but Brad knew better. First of all, Wynn was married. Second, Brad had watched plenty of Animal Planet in his time and he'd seen that behavior on almost every special involving Big Cats and wolves.

Third was the incident in his backyard. He knew he'd seen a coyote or, rather, a wolf, in his backyard, But instead of catching his nocturnal intruder, he'd caught his police lieutenant, who didn't recognize him, couldn't speak and seemed to forget he had the use of two thumbs.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the ding of a notification on his computer and he sighed, trudging back over. It was an email from Nate. He opened it and began to read aloud to himself.

To the members of the Great Fang Pack and the Gray Warren Clan,

This is to remind you that we will be joined by several members of the Dark Night Pack at the Run this weekend, due to a camping expedition in the part of the Catskills they've claimed as their Running Grounds. We expect you to treat them with the utmost respect, as we would any other guest on our Running Grounds. We'll meet at the usual spot in Pelham Bay, Friday night at seven. Please come prepared, as usual.

May the Stars guide your paws,

Deputy Nathaniel Fick and Deputy Gregory Logan

Brad sat back in his chair. This was confirmation, slapped right in his face. Brad steeled himself.

He knew exactly where he'd be on Friday night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Friday night rolled around, Nate was more nervous than he'd been in almost a century as he ran his fingers over the cold steel of the restraints in his hands. Around him stood Rudy, Poke, Jamie Cass, Wynn and Doc Bryan, who was calmly measuring sedatives into a syringe, looking like they staged captures every other day.

Walt, who was too young to hold off his Shift, had followed Ray into the inner clearing, so he could shift with his mentor nearby before Ray joined the apprehension team for a last minute review of the plan. Nate wasn't the only one who looked nervous about the whole set up. Josh, husband to Elder Shasta and Tied human to the same, was there to make sure Brad's needs were met while he was in custody

He was hoping that Brad would go willingly, but the supernaturals knew it wasn't going to happen. No human wanted to follow a group of dangerous people to an undisclosed location.

Finally, Ray joined them and Wynn called the small group together around the hood of Nate's Escape. “Alright. Everyone here knows that the plan to protect Brad Colbert from his Ex, a Werebear who wants him for illicit purposes, has backfired. Nate was captured in an animal trap set at Colbert's behest by animal control and was outed. Thankfully, due to his age and accelerated healing, Nate's arm is healed up nicely. He met with Elder Shasta a few days after the incident and came up with a plan.”

Wynn shifted and motioned to Nate, who stepped forward the last few inches to the hood of his car and began to speak. “The Elder had decided that leaving Colbert and his curiosity unattended could spell disaster for the supernatural community, and that something must be done about him. We decided to lure him here and then apprehend him and take him to the Catskills, where the Leo Center is. There, he'll be given a choice. I know I don't need to tell any of you what his choices are.”

Nods all around and then Nate continued. “Two nights ago, I purposely put Colbert on the mailing list when I sent out the reminder to you about our guest this evening, effectively giving him the necessary information to find us on his own. He knows the time and place. I've alerted the guards and given them a picture, so they know to let him in without fuss. Finding us won't be hard. Ray and Rudy have offered to be bait, and lead him here, to the main clearing. Once he's here, it's up to us to get him, only if necessary, restrained, sedated and in the back of my SUV. Josh, Mike and I will take it from there. No blood. No injuries. We're a lot stronger than him, so be careful. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir, Deputy Fick.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brad drove past the gate with little more than a nod and salutation from the guard, his bike purring quietly as he cruised it to one of the empty parking spots. He turned off the bike and pocketed the keys, getting off and looking around him. The area was nearly deserted and he thought that he might not actually have the right spot.

Just as was about to turn back for his bike, he heard the oddest rumbling sound and spun on his heel, gaping. Before him was tiger. A mother-fucking true as blue, real life tiger. It was staring at him with luminous golden eyes, deep orange fur almost silver in the light of the rising moon. Brad froze, wishing he'd brought his weapon with him when there was another growl behind him.

He didn't dare move, because turning your back on a tiger is asking to get mauled to death like an idiot, but he didn't have to because a minute later the brown wolf from the night in his yard was there, teeth bared as it snarled at him. Trapped between to wild animals, Brad did the only thing he could do, no matter how stupid it actually was.

He ran.

He crashed through the undergrowth, but even the deafening noise of breaking branches wasn't enough to cover up the gleeful baying of the wolf in chase or the strident roaring of the pursuing tiger. He could feel his chest constricting and tears were coming to his eyes, adrenaline manifesting itself in overrunning emotion as he continued onward. Every time he tried to turn, one of the predators was there with gleaming teeth and razor claws, sending him back on the straight path.

Finally, finally he burst into a clearing, hoping he'd lost his attackers he looked around him and froze. The clearing wasn't empty. In fact it was packed with animals of every shape and size and even humans in varying states of undress, all leveling him sharp glares, growls and snarls filling the air. He was trapped. They were going to kill him and get rid of his body in a way only man-eating carnivores could.

Brad fell to his knees and, in his despair, let the building tears leak from his eyes, a terrified sound escaping his tenuous control.

Suddenly, the noise stopped and the animals took a step back, parting to allow two people to walk forward unhindered.

Nate and Wynn.

Both were looking at him with sharp eyes that gleamed with nearly unnatural brightness, bare save for jeans and tank tops, they looked almost gleeful and Brad's heart sank.. They weren't going to help him. They were going to be the ones to finish him.

Brad broke then and an unearthly guttural wail escaped him, an animal cry of terror and defeat, which only seemed to spur the others on as they howled and roared in counterpoint to his own cries. Finally, Wynn made a motion with his hand and the clearing fell silent.

“Silence!” He roared in a voice that brooked no argument. Nate paced forward and accepted something from a man behind Brad, retracting his hand from over Brad's bowed head to reveal a syringe and an alcohol pad. Nate ripped the latter open with his teeth and rubbed the chilled liquid swathe over the skin of his neck. He uncapped the syringe with his teeth and pushed it into the sterilized skin, depressing the plunger. He stepped back and stared at Brad with cold eyes. “Sleep, Brad. Close your eyes, and it will all end soon.” He crooned roughly, his voice sharp and jagged.

Brad closed his eyes as whatever was in the syringe pulled him under, only partially against his will. His end was here, he could feel it deep in his bones.

He only hoped they made it quick.

Chapter Text

Brad awoke with a jolt.

The room was dimly lit by a lamp on a desk that sat on the far side, briefly illuminating a flash of sharp green eyes before he flinched back. He was on a bed, soft and comfortable and for the shortest moment he was able to to think he'd dreamed the chase in the forest or his capture in the clearing full of animals and men.

That thought was derailed when he tried to reach up with his left hand to rub the sleep from his eyes and he was stopped by the manacles around his wrists, which were attached to a chain wrapped around his waist. “You're awake, I see.” He heard from across the room.

The shape at the desk turned around in the computer chair and he came face to face with Nate, whose own face was a mask of indifference. Brad struggled into a sitting position and leaned against the wall as Nate rose to his feet and walked over to the wall, flipping on the light. Brad took the chance and the silence to look around him.

The room was warmly decorated in shades of beige and cream and the floor was lushly carpeted in oaken brown. The bed he was on was large and there was plenty of room to move around easily. If he hadn't been chained up. He looked down at his wrists, where the manacles kept him tightly restrained. Whoever had put these on him had not intended for him to get away anytime soon.

“Where am I?” He rasped, looking at Nate. Nate leveled him with an even gaze as he pulled the computer chair to rest a few feet away from the bed, sitting down and steepling his fingers as he stared at Brad.

“You're in a cabin at in undisclosed location in the Catskills. You've been unconscious for about twelve hours now.” He reported flatly, leaning back into what Brad assumed was a more comfortable position for him. “You're in over your head, Brad Colbert. You've seen things humans were never meant to see. And you could end up paying a dear price for it.”

“So what I saw, in the clearing?” He asked, darkly. He knew this wasn't going to end in his favor.

“Were-Animals and Shapeshifters.”

“And the night, with you in the trap?” Nate tensed up at this and curled his lip, a deep, guttural sound rumbling in his chest.

“Not important at the moment, Colbert. Let's worry about your immediate future on this planet first.” He said coolly as he rose to his feet again. “As I said before, you are now privy to information very few pure humans know. That makes you dangerous to us. We've stayed hidden for a reason. This makes the supernaturals of the United States, hell, the world, very very nervous. If you out one of us, you out all of us.” He paused in front of the desk and picked up a file that was sitting there, crossing back to the other man.

“So what? I gotta promise never to tell a soul on pain of death? Sign a confidentiality agreement?” He asked hopefully. Would he be lucky enough to leave here, with his life and body intact after signing only a piece of paper?

“Not that easy, Colbert. You are, however, close.” Nate sat back down in the chair and continued to speak. “When a human discovers our secret, the first plan of action is always the same. Capture and detain. How that happens always differs though. With you, it was slightly more difficult than usual. You're smart, but you're also curious to a fault. It makes you a good detective, but here? It was your downfall. Once we were sure you'd pieced enough information together to think you had the right idea, we just needed to drop the proper hint to send you right into our trap. A well timed and properly worded Pack/Clan correspondence message “accidentally” dropped in your inbox did the trick.”

Brad felt stupid then. He'd walked right into their midst, baited by an email sent to him on purpose.

“The chase was not to be so stressful for you. Ray and Rudy would like to apologize to you for that later, should this conversation go the way we all hope it goes. I'll let them explain themselves to you then.” He smiled lightly. Brad did not share his amusement.

“Once the human in question has been detained. We offer them a choice. As a whole, the supernaturals are a very peaceful community. We very much like to avoid death and bloodshed if at all possible. There are three options open to humans at this point. If we think the human is trustworthy enough to be released, and is willing to work with us, we make them perform a Blood Oath Ceremony, sign many legally-binding papers and we Bond and Tie them to a willing supernatural, sort of like a handler. This is the preferred course of action by everyone, even those of the Old World, who prefer to handle these such occurrences harshly.”

“If the human is not willing to work with us right away or if a willing Supernatural can't be found in the state, they're imprisoned until they are willing to work with us, a Supernatural is found or, for the rest of their lives, if circumstances prevent us from doing the last, and least liked, option.” Brad knew he wasn't going to like what this last one was.

“If a human is completely unwilling to ever work with us or if they've already committed crimes against us, then they are put to death and the Cleaners completely erase their existence.” Nate took a deep breath. “I'm going to be honest with you, Colbert. The only reason this hasn't happened to you yet was because, when you caught me in that animal trap, it was by accident and because you released me right away, instead of keeping me captive or worse, shooting me with your service weapon.”

This pulled a violent flinch from Brad, one that rattled the chains of his restraints and caused the bed he was on to shift slightly.

“Let's be honest with each other here, Brad.” Brad looked up. This was the first time all night Nate had used his first name by itself. “What were you going to do, if this system wasn't in place and you pursued your investigation anyway?” He asked, voice lilting, but by no means playful.

“I-I honestly don't know. I thought I was insane. You were nightmare, or a vision brought on by lack of sleep and too much caffeine. But that night after the incident in the backyard, Walt and Ray, Gunny and even Rudy were acting so strange and you weren't there. And then you came into work with that cast on? With the story about rescuing your niece's kitten? I didn't know what to believe. Had you really been caught in that trap in my backyard or had you fallen out of a tree rescuing kittens and everyone had been worried when they heard you fell out of a tree.” He stopped here and Nate made a motion with his hand for Brad to continue.

“I dropped it for a while, hoping it was my imagination. And then you and the others started acting weird and the moon phase matched up with every legend and tall-tale 'd ever heard about Werewolves, which was the only form I'd seen so far so it made sense that you were one. Then the email. Confirmation, right there in front of me. I don't know what I would have done. Really, I'd just like to forget it ever happened.” He said the last part dejectedly.

“I'm sorry, but that's not an option.” Nate said, rising to his feet. “Be that as the case may be, you're in luck. There's a willing supernatural to take you. You have until tonight to decide. Its about eight in the morning right now. Someone will be in with food shortly, and at regular mealtimes after that. The door to your left is the bathroom. There's a guard outside your door. Should you make your decision before I come back tonight, simply tell the guard you wish to speak to me, and I will return. Otherwise, you will be left alone for the time being.” He dropped the file on the chair and, without another word, turned on his heel and left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Guard. I need to speak with Fick.” He shouted at the door. It was just after he'd finished his lunch and Brad had come to his decision already. In all actuality, Brad had come to his decision twenty minutes after Nate had left the room, but he'd wanted a chance to think on his other options first.

Except, there really were none.

Truth be told, having a handler couldn't be that bad in comparison to death or life in prison and Brad had too many things to live for. His bike and his family for one. He'd read the file Nate left on the chair and immediately realized he was meant to. Inside were three handwritten pages on everything he'd have to do, be aware of or learn if he decided to be Bound and Tied to a supernatural.

The process of the Blood Oath Ceremony had been explained briefly, along with the effects the Tie would have on him and his supernatural. It had explained what rules he'd have to follow, lessons he'd learn, both from the supernaturals and the humans of the local Shifter Clan and Were Pack and it even gave conditions to his return home.

Brad was pulled out of his inner musings as the door swung open and Nate, dressed in cargo shorts and a polo, entered, coffee in hand. “You wanted to speak to me, Colbert?” He asked. He made a beeline for the desk and set his coffee down. Brad held up the file as high as his restraints would let him.

“I'll do it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brad had been shocked when, after his declaration, the room he was in was suddenly filled with the boisterous presence of a thirty-something blonde-haired force of nature. A very naked, blonde-haired force of nature.

“Elder Shasta! You need to put some clothes on!” Nate called plaintively, placing one hand over his own eyes and, much to Brad's annoyance, over his too.

“Oh Nathaniel. Get over yourself. You don't hear me complaining when you come back from a shift and strut about until you find your clothes at a very leisurely pace.” Nate hissed and blushed in embarrassment.

There was the sound of rustling for a minute before Nate deigned to removed his hand from Brad's face and the blonde woman, Elder Shasta, was clothes in jeans and a t-shirt. “I heard the good news Nathaniel. We don't have to call the Cleaners!” She crowed and Brad paled. Who was this woman, who spoke of his death with such disregard?

“You heard or you thought stalking me through the halls was a good idea?” He asked sharply, though with humor in his voice.

“Tomato, tomahto Nathaniel. Don't talk back to me or I'll make you spend tonight as a grasshopper. Again.” Nate nodded and backed down, rolling his head to the side and gazing downwards in a show of contrite submission.

“So kid.” She said, turning on brad with brilliant green eyes. “Nathaniel tell you who your Supernatural was gonna be yet?” Brad shook his head. “He is. I figured since he was outed to you and you worked together it would be easier for you to have him as your handler. And you couldn't be in better hands. Despite only being about one-thirty, Nathaniel is someone you want to have by your side.”

Brad looked at Nate.

“You're a hundred and thirty years old!?”

Chapter Text

“Let's get you out of those restraints, so you can come and see the others. They've been waiting on us for a little while now and Ray's starting to annoy me. More so than usual.” Nate said, reaching for a small chain around his neck, which he pulled off to reveal a key at the end. He made quick work of the manacles and the waist chain, tossing the heavy steel aside with derisive snort.

“Follow me.” He said brightly, leading Brad out into the hall. He was temporarily blinded as he stepped into the corridor, that area alone so much brighter than his locked and windowless room. “We'll talk a little more after they've had a chance to calm down. You look like you could use a good cup of coffee.” He said conversationally. Brad simply nodded, distracted by the area around him.

The cabin, mansion, he corrected himself, was huge and decorated just as warmly as the room he'd been in for the last few hours, almost leading him to believe he'd been in a guest room instead of a cell. The carpet was soft underfoot and he marveled at its plush feeling. The air was cool and he could hear the quiet hum of the air conditioner somewhere in the background, but it's rumble only seemed to add to the atmosphere, instead of annoy.

At the end of the hall the room opened up hugely. Vaulted ceilings so high Brad had to crane his neck to see, picture windows, leather furniture and more of the carpet Brad was beginning to love the more he walked on it. The room had an older feel to it and Brad had a hunch most of the furniture and decorations had followed their owner here, however old that person was.

Nate stopped him and pointed to the center of the room, which was actually sunk a few feet lower than the floor they were stood on, to where there was a horseshoe shape of large leather couches, where many members of the precinct were lounging, many only half-dressed. Nate walked down the carpeted steps and cleared his throat, which drew the attention of everyone in my room.

“Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet my soon-to-be-Tied human, Brad Colbert.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time everyone settled down from the excitement of seeing Brad not dead, Brad was feeling more than a little frazzled. There was way too much going on at once, even for him. Nate seemed to sense this though and came to his rescue with a sharp whistle. “Alright gentlemen! Allan's about to call you all for dinner and its lasagna, so if you wanna make sure you get your share, you should head to the great hall now.”

There was a stampede of sound as they all rushed down a hall on the opposite side of the great room from where he and Nate had entered and suddenly Brad was left alone with Nate, who was smiling indulgently.

“We should go too. I happen to like lasagna and want to get some before they slobber all over it and it's inedible.” Nate held up his hand.

“Don't worry about eating in the great hall tonight. You're too stressed and in there? You might just crack. There's three Clans and two Packs here this weekend, so its a little more crowded than usual.” Brad was about to ask where they were going to eat, or if Nate was even going to feed him, when a young man, a teenager really, entered the room.

“Deputy Fick, Allan wanted me to tell you that you and your human are set up in the hearth room and Elder Shasta asks me to remind you that she expects you to shift at first dark because you skipped yesterday, its the full moon, the ceremony isn't until midnight and she'll kill you and feed you to the pride of mini-lions if you don't. Her words not mine.” Brad gaped at him while Nate laughed. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the nonchalant way they talked about maiming and killing each other.

“I believe you, Alex. Thanks for the heads up.” He said warmly. Alex nodded and turned on his heel and went back the way he came, to what Brad assumed was the great hall, where it was suddenly much louder. Brad looked at Nate as he stood effortlessly, pointing out the sliding glass doors.

“Come on. The hearth room is over the walkway. It'll be nice and quiet over there and you and I can talk without being interrupted.” Nate pushed the door open and let Brad through first, following behind him. Brad took a minute to look around and he found himself feeling sucker-punched at the evening beauty of the wilderness around him.

The mountains around him were bathed in the pinkish light of the slowly setting sun, which glinted off the healthy trees and the grass. On the edge of his vision he could see a large pond, almost a small lake, that rippled and danced with the soft breeze.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” He heard from behind him and he turned around to see Nate, looking around him with an odd soft, almost fond, look. “There aren't many untouched places like this left in the states, or the world for that matter. My kind, Weres and Shifters, we flock to these places. We figure we're more beast than man, and sometimes we act like it, full moon or not, and when we see places like this, we just wanna shift and run and never come back.”

Nate's voice had taken on a rough, wanting tone and Brad wondered if this was Nate the human or Nate the Shifter at that moment. There was another still moment before Nate physically shook himself and turned towards Brad with a slightly apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. I'm still young enough where I'm not supposed to skip shifts at the full moon, but getting you here unharmed was my priority last night. I'm just feeling my age tonight.”

He turned and led Brad to the end of the walkway before opening the door there and leading him inside. This building was decorated much like the other one and Nate happily went off on an explanation tangent. “This building is more for the young supernaturals. Its got a game room, a lounge, a den, a movie area, a fully stocked kitchen and the hearth room, which has a huge fireplace and a table and chairs.”

“I meant to ask about that. Back in the great room, that kid. How old was he?” Nate nodded sagely as he led Brad through a hall.

“Many humans ask that question when they get here and its perfectly normal to be worried about them. Alex is the son of a Werelion and a Shifter. Supernatural genetics are tricky. If two mate, then you get a supernatural child. If a supernatural mates with a human, there's a fifty percent chance of a supernatural being born. If two humans mate but there's a supernatural in the immediate family, one of the mating pair's parents per-say, there's a twenty five percent chance. If a Shifter mates with a Shifter, then a Shifter is born. A Were and a Were makes a Were. A Were and a Shifter can make either or.”

Brad nodded. It made perfect sense and he motioned for Nate to go on, which he did.

“Its funny actually. Walt and Alex came into their powers at the same time.” Brad blinked and Nate chuckled. By now they had reached the hearth room and both took a chair at the table. In a hotbox was two containers heaped with lasagna, a package of hot garlic bread and cola. “No alcohol for you tonight, Colbert. You need a clear head.” Nate said sternly. Once they were settled, Nate continued.

“None of us were able to sense that Walt was supernatural. My guess is his parents were human, or one was a supernatural and didn't tell the other for obvious reasons. But anyway, he and Ray were responding to a distress call. Alex had been cornered by a bunch of thugs from his school and had called for help. Well, while Ray and Walt were looking for him, one of the thugs pulled a bat out to use on Alex. Walt found them first and went after him, but they outnumbered him. The stress forced a reaction from both and they transformed for the first time. Ray found them both, still in animal form, up a tree in Central park, with the thugs passed out below them.”

Brad couldn't help but chuckle. “So no-one knows when they're gonna shift for the first time? It's completely random?” Nate nodded.

“Some shift very young and some, like me and Elder Shasta, don't have their first shifts until they're in their twenties and thirties. Its random. Any other questions?” he asked, taking a large bite out of his garlic bread.

“Is it true you guys don't age?” He asked and Nate made a motion with his hand, one which brad approximated to “sort of”.

“We age, but very, very slowly. Once our bodies reach a certain age, usually somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-three, we slow down. About twenty human years for every supernatural year. Our oldest supernaturals range from Ancient Greek soldiers, Roman Centurions, Vikings, Medieval Knights, and Germanic Barbarians.”

“What were you?” He asked. Nate shrugged his shoulders and replied with a light smile.

“In 1858, when I came into my powers, I was a twenty-three year old horse-trainer in the Inner Bluegrass region of Kentucky. I'd moved out there from Boston when I was thirteen because I hated the city. I hitch-hiked for a while before Logan Beaumont picked me up off the side of the road. He taught me everything I know. I stayed on the ranch for a while after my first shift, and when Logan passed, the ranch was given to me. I still own it, though its care is entrusted to someone else right now.”

Brad was surprised, but pleased, with how straight-forward and truthful Nate was being about his past and he sent the other man a small smile. They ate in silence for a minute before he felt an odd pressure at the back of his head and he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. Nate grinned slyly and Brad glowered at him. “Is that you?” He asked.

“Yes. You read the papers, right?” A nod. “Even though you're not Tied to me yet, you have the ability to tap the Pack Sense. This is the only way you're gonna be able to talk to me tonight, so I'm gonna teach you how to use it. Finish up, first though.”

Both men finished eating and, when they were done, Nate lead him to the lounge chairs in front of the fireplace. “Alright. I'm going to teach you the mental trick we teach the younger supernaturals when they first learn to use the Pack Sense. Close your eyes. Imagine yourself in a safe place. On a beach. In the woods. Your bedroom. Somewhere where you feel safe and happy. Don't open your eyes, just listen to my voice.”

Brad did as he was told and he listened to Nate speak, listened as his voice dropped in pitch and timbre, quietly soothing. “You're safe and comfortable now. Now, feel the pressure my mind makes, visualize it as something. A vine. A stick. Imagine yourself grabbing it. Hold on tight. Don't lose it. Don't panic.”

Suddenly, Brad's mind was awash with feeling, light and sound that was dizzying in its intensity and he gasped despite himself. But he held on and suddenly it faded and he was soothed by a torrent of warmth and pride, underlined by a fierce need to run, to play, to live.

“Very good, Brad. You can open your eyes now.”

Brad did just that, only to find Nate gone, replaced by a grinning tiger who sprawled happily across the floor, looking at him with bright green eyes.

“You-”

The tiger huffed at him, flicking his ears and tail, looking at him expectantly.

“I thought I taught you this so you wouldn't have to talk out loud. So what's the first thing you do?”

Brad was sure Nate was just messing with him at this point, but he obediently formed a thought and pushed it at the large cat.

“So this is how you all talk. Can you do this in human form?”

“We can. Its good for when we play war games. Pack Senses can be everyone, a few people or even just two, like we're doing now. If I were to Call Ray or Walt right now, they'd join the web we started.”

The tiger heaved itself to his feet and turned towards Brad.

“We must go outside now. But let me make myself very clear here, Brad. Do NOT, even for a minute, stray from my side. You're not Tied to me yet and therefor I have no claim over you. If another were to get it into their head they wanted you, then I'd have to fight him for you. We're going to stay away from everyone who is not from the precinct until the ceremony. Elder Shasta's human will be joining as well as Rudy's human, I think.”

Nate brushed up against Brad's side, the large tiger nearly bowling him over, and Brad threaded his fingers through the tiger's thick ruff, holding on gently.

“Is this all right?”

“Yes, Brad, that's alright.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When the moon was high in the sky, Elder Shasta came back to the group from the precinct, dressed in decorative robes, smiling brightly. Brad felt a soft brush against his mind and he figured the Elder was speaking to Nate, because the space inside his head suddenly felt more compact, the web he'd built in his safe place suddenly heavier.

Brad had spent the last few hours watching Ray and Walt tussle in the grass, listened to Nate entertain many of the younger supernaturals with stories about his travels and talked with Josh and Pappy, the humans of Elder Shasta and Rudy respectively. Both had nothing but good things to say about Nate and the other supernaturals who worked at the precinct and Brad believed them wholeheartedly.

Now Nate rose up off the patch of grass he'd been lounging on, orange fur silvery in the night and he waited for Brad to follow him, rumbling in reassurance as they followed the Elder to an out-cropping of rocks. They climbed up to the top and Nate sat down while Elder Shasta led Brad to the edge.

Below them, everything stopped and became silent as they looked up to watch. Without extravagance, the Elder pulled a jeweled dagger from the belt of her robes and grabbed Brad's arm, forcing it, palm up, all the way out. She raised it to the night sky and, which a flash of movement so fast brad couldn't follow it, she sliced open his hand. Blood dripped down onto the ground and he noticed a small divot in the ground, where the blood collected in a pool. The Elder began to speak.

“Hic liga
Liga haec bestia
Qui feat vincere non modica
In silva humida
De nive gelida
Unusquisque scire ultimum supernaturalem
De nomine Brad
Nente convenit nomine
Et qui transgreditur hoc Praesent
Esto miserationis fati
Iura sanguinis
Jura per terram
Ne cadas in mortem
Si clam vocatis”

Her voice was haunting and Brad shivered. Nate stood up and walked to the pool of blood, where he bent his head and began to drink. While he drank, blood continued to drip onto his head until a line formed from the top of his skull to the tip of his nose. When the line was complete, the Elder sprinkled herbs on Brad's hand and on Nate's head.

The herbs stopped the bleeding and Nate bared his teeth. Brad braced himself for the pain of the tiger's bite, but nothing ever came and all he felt was a tingle, almost like electricity and he looked down. Nate had removed his teeth and the holes were already closing up, leaving a white scars like a dental impression with a small swirl in the middle.

The Elder took Brad's bloody hand and lay it on top of Nate's head, smiling brightly. Brad had to tense tightly as Nate opened his jaws and loosed a strident roar that shook the otherwise still night sky. Brad felt a flood of emotions; pride, nervousness and joy and he figured this new onslaught was part of the Bond.

“I give you, Deputy Nathaniel Fick, and his Tied and Bonded human, Bradley Colbert!”

Chapter Text

Brad and the supernaturals stayed in the Catskills until Tuesday evening, when the extended vacation they had taken ran out. When Brad asked Wynn how he got them all out for four days, Wynn had chuckled softly and pointed to Nate, who happily went off on another of his explanation tangents. Again.

“Believe it or not, Brad, there are a quite a few supernaturals in the Brass and in command of the military. When we need to take extended vacations for occurrences such as these, Wynn or some other person in charge of that group of supernaturals sends the Brass a slip that says we're going to a convention. Convention is code for intervention, which means we have a human emergency. And we all have vacation, happy birthday, merry Christmas.” The last part earned him a cuff about the back of the head and he chuckled as he ducked away.

Brad was certain every last one of the supernaturals from the precinct was in a much better mood than they were four or five days ago. They were quite literally bouncing with energy and Pappy explained it to him, fond smile on his face as he watched Rudy and Nate take swipes at each other playfully on the way to the cars.

“Shifting is like drugs to them. It releases a burst of these good hormones and adrenaline and they can't get enough of it. The boys have spent most of the past few days shifting back and forth and having fun. That's multiple, almost constant hits of what would be considered a Class One narcotic. It'll wear off in a few days, so long as they don't shift more than maybe twice a piece.”

Brad nodded and watched as Nate was thrown off his feet by an enthusiastic tackle from Walt, who was apparently a lot stronger than anyone gave him credit for. Nate responded by kangaroo-kicking Walt in the stomach and sending him flying.

Finally they made it to the vehicles and Brad slid into the passenger seat of Nate's SUV, while Nate started it up and waited for Ray and Walt to get in the back seats. Once everyone was comfortable, Nate pulled out of the graveled lot and moved smoothly onto the road. The silence only lasted a minute before Nate's phone rang..

“You've got Fick.” He responded cheerily. But as the phone call went on Nate's expression grew darker and his voice took on a low, growling pitch. When he hung up, it appeared his high was gone completely and he was staring angrily into the night sky through his windshield.

“LT, was that who I think it was, saying what I think they said?” Ray asked from the back seat and Nate nodded tersely. Ray let a soft curse past his lips and looked at Nate sharply and then at Brad. Nate made a quite sound in his chest, but nodded and turned to Brad with cold green eyes, though through the Bond, Brad could tell none of the anger was directed at him.

Brad had gotten slightly better at reading the Bond that now occupied the “safe place” in his head. He still had minor difficulty telling whose emotions were whose, but right now, all he could sense right now that Nate's side of the Bond was filled with nearly volcanic rage and worry.

“I suppose I should tell you now.” He said heavily and Brad turned to him, not liking the way Nate sounded at all. “While we were away, your house was broken into and wrecked. The guard we had there was injured in the attack.” His fingers gripped the steering wheel and Brad looked at him. “Brad, your Ex broke into your house in an attempt to kidnap you.” Brad was speechless for a minute before Nate loosed a string of what he assumed to be curses, but he couldn't tell because they weren't in English.

“That bitch finally makes a move, opens herself up to getting caught and we weren't there!” He snarled, lifting his hands up off the wheel and slamming them on the dashboard in a fit of rage.

“LT! The road! You need to drive!” Walt shouted from the backseat and Nate got a hold of himself long enough to put his hands back on the wheel and right the SUV so it was driving on the proper side of the road.

“I swear to god when I get my hands on that bear I'm going to rip her limb from limb and use her pelt to carpet my bedroom!” He shouted and Brad shrunk back, for the first time actually afraid of Nate's animal side. Over the past few days, no matter what form any of the supernaturals took on, they'd been playful and friendly even during fights, which Brad somehow found himself pulled into despite himself.

How could he forget that, inside and underneath all the playful kitten and puppy acts were beasts. True hunters.

Killers.

They let Nate curse for a bit and Brad was sure he heard at lease three different languages during the rant. Nearly an hour into the drive though, Nate calmed down. His ranting tapered off into labored breathing, the tension leeched from his muscles and, when Brad tapped the Bond gently, he was rewarded with a rush of remorse, apology and worry.

“You can't go back there right now Brad. Not now, maybe not until she's captured. Its not safe for you to be on your own.” He said, trying to sound apologetic. Brad nodded. He could see the sense in not returning to his house until his stalker was captured, but where was he going to stay in the meantime? He asked as much to his supernatural companions.

“Normally we'd put you up in a hotel, but you've recently been through a very stressful and trying time, so doing that would be almost cruel. I've got a spare room you can use at my place. The guards who went to your house packed up as much of your stuff that they could grab that they thought you would need that couldn't be bought. Clothes, uniform, your service weapon, which was still in its lockbox thankfully, a few family photos that you had on your mantel. We'll stop at a store tomorrow and get stuff like shower stuff and things like that.” Brad could tell Nate was serious about this and he nodded numbly.

Removed from his own house, even if it was for his safety, because his Ex-girlfriend, who happened to be a crazy ass supernatural, wanted to kidnap him.

“Fuck. My. Life.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nate's two-story, Tudor style home in the Forest Hills Garden neighborhood of Queens was so beautiful, Brad had to stop and take a minute just to look at it and take the surrounding, almost forested, area in. He was pretty sure he was gaping.

“Gorgeous, isn't it? Bought it forty-five years ago. Had it updated as the years went by of course, on the inside anyway, and I took real good care of the outside. This house is gonna last me a good chunk of my unnatural life, I hope. Your house? Made me wanna cry. Poor thing looks like it could do with some repairs. Maybe I'll send a crew out there for you.” Brad stiffened and bristled.

“There is nothing wrong with my house.” He hissed, pointing at Nate accusingly. Nate simply curled his lip, showing off two rows of perfectly white, very sharp teeth. Brad deflated. He had no inclination to go toe-to-toe with those. He'd end up missing all the skin off his arms. If he was lucky. Nate seemed to sense his misstep because he sighed and leveled Brad with a soft gaze.

“I'm not hating on your house Brad. Well, not much anyway. But you have to understand. You're Tied and Bound to a very prominent figure of the supernatural community. Not every one of us is as nice as the ones you met this weekend. Your house needs to be fortified, you need to be taught defense, what we're weak against. Your house was broken into by a single Were, all on her own, high and crazy. What do you thinks gonna happen if someone wants to make a power-play against me in the future? They're gonna go after you, and they're gonna send not one, not even two, but whole teams of Weres and Shifters who know what they're doing.”

Nate let his words sink in before he placed a bolstering hand on Brad's shoulder and led him into the house proper. Inside was decorated just as warmly as the mansion in the Catskills, with a few marked differences. Crossed over the mantle of the fireplace were two swords, both gleaming in the moonlight. The stone fireplace and hearth were cobbled with black and gray stones, and Brad noticed what he thought were runes carved into every last one.

The furniture was black leather, the carpet cream and the walls a warm beige. He could see the stainless steel kitchen appliances from his spot by the door and another room further back, which he thought to be a den, or solarium.

“Come through here, the bedrooms are in the back.” He heard Nate and he followed the other man's voice down a hallway to where there were two sets of bi-fold doors. “Yours is on left, mine the right. There's a bathroom in your room as well. Apparently, who ever built this house to begin with thought they need two master suites.” Nate made a motion with his hand for Brad to enter his bedroom before he disappeared into his own.

Left to his own devices, Brad decided to get ready for bed. They'd eaten at a restaurant on the way home and all he wanted to do was curl up and fall deeply asleep, so he could be ready tomorrow. He opened his doors and slipped through, closing them behind him. The bedroom was decorated just as warmly as the rest of the house and Brad was pleased to find that most of his stuff was already packed away in the closet and drawers. There was a note on his bedside table and Brad picked it up to read.

Dear Mr. Colbert,

Deputy Fick has asked me to put your service weapon in the main safe, in the living area of the house. He asks me to inform you that you can have it tomorrow, at which point he will give you the combination for the safe that this table conceals. I hope you find your things easily enough.

Sincerely,

Allan Marx

Brad shrugged his shoulders. He could see the sense of putting the weapon in the main safe until the following day. No sense leaving the combination to the personal safe out where anybody could read it. He made quick work of dressing down to his boxers, intent on taking a shower the following morning, and slipping into the bed, more than a little surprised.

He'd have to ask Nate what these sheets were made out of in the morning.

Chapter Text

For the first few weeks after Brad's introduction into the world of supernaturals, almost nothing happened. For that, he was grateful.

The first week was spent learning to recognize members of Nate's Clan, the Gray Warren, and members of the neighboring Were Pack, the Great Fang. He learned to Call, or summon forth, the mental presences of the immediate members with whom he worked closely with at the station. Rudy, he found, despite his quiet mental signature, was the easiest to Call, while Walt, being as young as he was and still learning to do it himself was the hardest.

Some days he felt Nate's gaze on him from the walkway, or across the squad floor, but most of the time, Nate kept a constant vigilance over him through their fledgling Bond. It became a game for them. Nate would push a burst of energy at him and then shut down the Bond, forcing Brad to go looking through his head and return the favor. When Ray caught them at it once, he'd simply smiled and explained to Brad that the game was how most mentors helped young supernaturals practice entering and exiting the Pack Sense.

Every night, after dinner in Nate's giant kitchen, he and Nate settled into the back room, which Brad discovered was actually a solarium. Most nights Nate gave lessons on everything ranging from the history of the supernaturals to ceremonies and other nights he told stories that had been passed on for generations and others from his own time spent traveling around the world.

Nate seemed to have been everywhere. But there was one place he'd never brought up Nearly two months ago, during the scene in the office, Wynn had brought up rescuing Nate from a Swedish blizzard. Nate never mentioned Sweden. In fact he never mentioned anywhere in Scandinavia. Brad decided, one night in the second week, he was going to ask.

Nate was reentering the solarium from the kitchen with a bottle of Pepsi and a bottle Miller Light. With the arm that had once been caught in an animal trap back in a cast, which Nate had explained was because they had to keep up appearances even though his arm was actually fully healed, he handed Brad the beer and went over to his large recliner, sinking into the leather with a sigh.

“Alright Brad. What do you want to learn about today?” He asked, taking a sip of his Pepsi with a small, almost private smile. Brad twirled the beer bottle in his hand for a minute before he looked up.

“What were you doing in Sweden, fifty years ago?”

Nate's hand clenched around the bottle so hard and fast that the plastic disintegrated, soft drink splattering the floor. The Bond went silent so fast Brad's head hurt and the Pack Sense he had open with Nate broke apart.

Nate was on his feet and shifted so fast, Brad wasn't certain he'd actually seen it, and it left clothes and cast fluttering to the ground, the sound of the pet-flap being pushed aside the only noise in the empty room, leaving Brad alone, stunned into silence.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nate barely spoke to him for a week after that. The Bond was silent save for the occasional brush and Nate ceased his walkway vigils. There were no more late night lessons and he was lucky if Nate would give him three words at dinner.

The others seemed to notice the tension between the two and finally, after five days of unease between them, Wynn called Brad up to his office. The room was filled with the quiet twang of country music and Wynn turned it all the way down before he handed Brad a mug of coffee and sat back.

“I see you and Nate seemed to have come across a little rough patch. And when I say little, I mean, Nate's been shifting at night instead of sleeping. I can tell because he actually snarled at Walt today, and a cranky Nate means a sleepless Nate. What could have happened in such a short amount of time already? You two were getting along so well.”

Brad made a helpless noise in his chest, hands flailing as he looked at Wynn beseechingly. “I don't know. We were in the middle of one of our night lessons. I saw you and Nate, when he came back with his arm in a cast, that night in your office. You mentioned rescuing him from a blizzard and I was curious. Nate had been telling me these stories about his travels but he'd never mentioned Sweden. So I asked.”

Right after that, Brad watched the strangest and most unnerving thing ever in his life so far happen. Wynn slapped himself on the forehead with his free hand, mumbled something in another language and then dropped his head onto his desk, slamming that a few times. Finally he stood up, marched over to the door and slammed it open.

“Nathaniel!” He shouted into the deserted squad room below. Brad listened as there was a yelp and then the sound of boots thumping up the stairs. He listened for a minute as Wynn growled something in the same language as before and Nate's hesitant answer. There was the sound of someone being shaken and a sharp yelp. Brad tensed. That was Nate.

Before Brad could rise to his feet they both reentered the office. Wynn had a contrite looking Nate by the scruff of the neck, a look of fond annoyance on his face. “Nate here has something he'd like to say to you. I'm going to step outside for a little bit. Fix it.” He said, pushing Nate forward gently and walking out, shutting the door behind him. There was silence for a minute.

“I'm sorry.” They both said at the same time and it brought wry smiles to their faces.

“I'm sorry Nate.” He continued, walking a few paces closer, until he was standing a few inches from Nate. Nate's lower jaw dropped slightly, revealing the tiniest edges of sharper than normal teeth and he he leaned forward that last few inches, breathing deeply as he nosed along Brad's neck. Brad realized with a jolt that Nate was scenting the air. Scenting Brad.

“What do I smell like?” He asked, the roughness of his voice surprising him. Nate growled lowly and Brad felt his skin prickle with anticipation.

“Like the sea. Like ice on a forested plain. And Me. God, Brad, you smell like Me.” He groaned and nipped the spot behind Brad's ear with sharp teeth. The sudden flash of pleasure/pain pulled a ragged gasp from Brad and, in a move he couldn't even begin to anticipate, Nate had him out the door and sprawled on the desk of the office next door.

Brad almost yelled at the sudden movement but the only sound that escaped him was a breathy whimper when he was hurriedly divested of his shirt. Nate had straddled his thighs and was moving his nose in winding patterns across Brad's chest, shoulders, face and neck, a constant mumbling escaping him in many languages, but the message came through to Brad loud and clear.

“I'm sorry, so sorry. I'm an idiot but you're okay and I'm okay and it's alright.”

Brad recognized this ritual from documentaries and the scene between the Wynn and Nate months ago. Nate was checking his well-being and apologizing at the same time. But, at the same time, Nate was reassuring himself, that Brad was well and still there.

Eventually, the animal frenzy Brad's scent had brought out in Nate left him and the slightly smaller man moved them to the floor. Before his eyes Nate shifted and from the pile of clothes emerged a familiar black and brown bundle of fur and Brad's smile actually hurt his face. “Oh, I see, looks like someone's looking for a little attention.”

Nate sent him a look and Brad simply snickered and lifted him onto his lap, starting a slow, even stroking that had them both drowsy in a matter of minutes. Brad was slow to realize that half of the relief and contentment his was feeling wasn't actually his own and he was happy to realize the Bond was open again and, upon inspection of his “safe place”, the Net he and Nate shared was there again and thrumming healthily.

Just as they were about to drop off, curled up together on the surprisingly soft office floor, he felt a soft brush in his head and the Net came to life.

“I hope I trust myself enough to tell you one day.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brad and Nate returned to their usual routine shortly after the night in the office, with a few marked changes. Nate was constantly making sure Brad was eating and drinking, that he took breaks and that he slept every night. Brad chalked it up as Nate's inner Alpha making sure his “pack”, also known as Brad, was well taken care off.

When all Brad did to respond to Nate's mother-henning was a few well-placed jabs, but otherwise complete obedience, Ray and Walt had plenty of ammunition, which they used to no end. Even as the week before the full moon came up and Nate’s behavior became restless again, he made sure Brad was well taken care of.

This month the full moon fell on Saturday through Monday and Nate called the supernaturals of the 4-9 to order after parade on Friday. When Brad stood up to leave, Nate called him back with a sharp whistle.

“And where do you think you're going?” He asked, but his words held no heat and he was smiling playfully. “You're my Tied human Brad. You're officially a member of the Clan. That means you sit in on meetings.” He said warmly. Brad came back and took a seat next to Rudy, who was smiling warmly.

“Alright gents. The Run is tomorrow. It'll just be Gray Warren and Great Fang again at Pelham Bay. Dark Night got their Running Grounds in the Catskills back from the campers. We'll also be joined by Brad, so I'm sure I don't need to tell you that his protection for the next few nights is of high importance. I've received a notice from the Council that two visiting Weres and their humans are in the vicinity and have asked for permission to Run with us over the full moon.”

The room took on a tense air and Brad new what they were talking about. On his first night home after being Tied to Nate, Nate had taken him aside and told him the entire story about Julie, his Ex-girlfriend and the Werebear, who was out to get him. Brad had a sinking feeling about this.

“As you well know, I won't get names until they walk up to guards with their Running Passes. I don't control who gets Running Passes and neither does Mike. If it is in fact Mrs. Logan and her mysterious partner in crime, then Brad and I will finish out our night, and then head home. We'll stay in the subsequent nights after that. Your jobs will be to, if it is her, make sure she doesn't follow us home and to make sure she shows up the following nights after that. Am I understood?”

“Yes Sir, Deputy Fick.”

Chapter Text

The day of Brad's first official Run, Nate pulled him into the parade room shortly before they were all scheduled to get off for the evening. Nate looked like Brad felt. Excited and pensive. But he smiled at Brad brightly and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ready for tonight?” He asked, sitting down in one of the chairs scattered about the room.

“As I'll ever be, I suppose.” He answered truthfully, sitting down next to other man. They watched as the squad floor began to empty, the day shift filing out make room for the night and graveyard shifts. “What's gonna happen to Walt, since Ray's with Doc Bryan?” He asked, in an attempt to move the conversation away from him.

Yesterday at lunch, Ray had been given a free dish from a restaurant owner he'd been friends with for a long time. Unknowingly, the chef had given Ray a soup with clams in it. He was allergic to shellfish. Ray had been carted off to the hospital and then had gone to his own house with Doc Bryan in tow, leaving Walt without his mentor.

“He'll be hanging around with you and I tonight. Speaking of tonight, there's some rules. You need to stay close. When I go to greet whoever our guest are for the night, just stay close to me. The other Deputy will be there and so will the two Leaders. I taught you etiquette for dealing with these situations. And you're smart. If it's her, don't react. Don't say anything, no surprise. Nothing. I'll be within a few yards all night and in constant contact through the Pack Sense. Stay with the other humans.”

Brad nodded and looked over at Nate, confused to see the other man pulling on a leather glove and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet bag. “You should wear this. I know you don't understand the significance of this yet, as Josh hasn't given you this lesson, but trust me. Should someone try to harm you, well, someone supernatural anyway, use this on them.” He said, opening the bag and using the gloved hand to pull out a gold link chain.

He handed the chain to Brad and put the bag in his pocket, pulling off the glove with his teeth and stuffing it into his belt. Brad clasped the chain around his neck and found that it created a very short circle around his throat. “Sorry, it's the longest I could get my hands on in such short notice. I'll get you a longer one.”

Brad simply shrugged his shoulders and followed Nate's lead when he stood, following him out the door to the desk, where Walt was fussing over a cooler. “You bring anything for the night, Brad?” He asked, shifting bottles around inside.

Brad nodded and went over to his own desk, where his bag was already sitting, and reached inside, pulling out two bottles of cola and a bottle of water. Nate had forbidden alcohol for the night. Walt took those and set them inside with everything else and then dumped ice packs on top. Brad could only wonder where those had come from. “Everything's ready, Nate. Duffel is in the SUV still, I think.”

Nate nodded and grabbed up the cooler with ease and swept his hand in a grand motion. “Alright gentlemen. Let's get this show on the road.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This time when Brad entered the clearing at Pelham Bay, he was greeted warmly. Instead of being welcomed by cold silence, there was playful yipping and happy animal sounds from all over. Most had already shifted and those who hadn't yet were making sure duffel bags and coolers were in a safe spot somewhere on the edge of the clearing, where they wouldn't get knocked over in the midst of the games that were bound to be played later that night.

Nate supervised Walt's shift first. Walt was only four months into being a Were, and might still mess up a shift. It was his mentor's job, or in this case Nate's, to make sure each shift went smoothly. Once Walt had shifted and taken up residence on Brad, with his haunches braced on Brad's shoulders, belly on the back of his head and his front paws and chin resting on Brad's head, Nate dragged their duffel bag and cooler over next to others, stripped down and shifted.

Brad wasn't expecting to come face-to-face with sleek and gorgeous dark bay colored horse. He heard a whistle from across the way and looked over to see a smiling Elder Shasta approaching them. She stepped up to Nate and patted his nose with a snicker.

“A Norsk Kaldblodstraver, Nate? Really? Are you trying to cheat in tonight's race?” She asked. Nate stamped his hoof twice and shook his head, whinnying softly. “I'm just messing with you. You know that.” A snort was her answer and she laughed before turning to address Brad. “Colbert, you have a Clouded Leopard on your head.” She said, completely deadpan and Brad gave a snort of his own.

“I am aware of that, Elder Shasta.” He said warmly after bowing, carefully, so as not to disturb Walt on his perch. She waved his hand and he followed her, aware that Nate was right behind him, to where a group of a people were standing in a small circle. Elder Shasta cleared her throat before she spoke.

“Listen ladies and gentlemen. This is Brad Colbert. Ignore the Clouded Leopard on his head. He's Deputy Fick's human.” She said this while pointing to the horse behind Brad's shoulder. “Treat him with respect, and he shall treat you with the same. He'll be joining you later tonight. Have fun.” She turned on her heel, stripped and before his eyes, shifted into a tabby cat, and strutted away from the group.

Brad was surrounded by people who shook his hand or clapped him on the back, welcoming them into their group. It was easy enough to figure out these were the Tied humans of members of the Clan or Pack. All of them appeared happy and they all led him over to where they had a decent sized fire going and sat around it.

Nate drifted away, but Walt stayed perched on his head, seemingly content to spend the night up there.

“So what's it like, being the human to the Deputy?” One woman asked and he shrugged.

“As compared to what?” He asked mildly.

“Oh, well, I forgot this is your first Run. Sorry.” Brad shrugged. The group looked up as a lion approached them, tawny fur bright in the night. Brad recognized this as Nate almost at once and he wondered why Nate had shifted.

“It's quite hard to maneuver in a clearing this size as a horse. That, and I like shifting. It's good practice so I don't forget what animals I can shift into.” He answered Brad's unasked question. He pressed his nose into Brad's side and then moved away again.

Over the next thirty minutes, Nate repeated this process again, each time as a different animal. He'd pad over, press his nose in Brad's side and move away, making rounds throughout the clearing, talking to everyone. After the fourth time, one of the men in the circle, Zack if he remembered correctly, looked as if a light bulb had turned on in his head.

“Ohhhh. You guys really are new, if you're still in that stage.” He said and Brad looked confused while everyone else seemed as if they'd had an epiphany. When Zack sensed his continued confusion, he elaborated.

“Everyone here can attest that, for the first few months of being Tied to a supernatural, they can be a tad overprotective. You guys work together right?” Brad nodded. “Does he check on you often? Make sure you eat, stay hydrated and take breaks?” Another nod. “That's their inner animal showing through. They're partially running off Instinct for the first few months. You're part of Nate's “pack” now, and he feels it's his responsibility to make sure you're safe, happy and healthy all the time. You're like a new pup to him, unable to take care of itself. Once a few months have passed, that instinct to take care of everything will wane and he'll only do this kind of back and forth checking if you're sick or injured.”

Brad nodded. He understood and he had a feeling the fight with Nate almost two weeks ago had deepened Nate's inner animal's need to care for him. They all settled back and talked for a while longer before a familiar tiger approached the group, accompanied by a lion, a wolf and a polar bear.

“They're here, Brad. We have to go and meet them. I'm going to connect the Net I have going with these three to the one you and Walt have going, so I can introduce you to them. Keep it open, even if we shift back. Elder Shasta will be joining us momentarily.”

Brad waited a moment before, with a buzz of energy, his head felt entirely too crowded. He took a minute to rub his temple before the pain subsided on it's own and he felt four new mental presences, only one of which he recognized as Elder Shasta's.

“Brad, you know Leader Wynn. This is Deputy Gregory Logan and Leader Avery Jackson. Gentlemen, this is my human, Bradley Colbert.” Nate introduced them in turn, pointing to the polar bear, the wolf and the lion respectively.

Brad bowed deeply at the waist, wincing internally when Walt dug his claws in so as not to be thrown off.

“An honor to meet you, Leader Jackson. An honor to meet you, Deputy Logan.” He said respectfully, maintaining his bow.

“An honor to meet you, Bradley.” They intoned together and Brad rose from his bow, relieved when Walt retracted his claws.

The lion rumbled in approval and Brad felt the Bond warm with pride. “Well met, young one. Nathaniel was right. Very well-mannered despite his age. You've taught him well, so far, Deputy Fick.” Leader Jackson's mental presence was sharp, but not unpleasant and Brad committed it to memory, knowing he'd have to recognize it in case the Leader ever wished to speak with him. Nate padded up beside him and he threaded his fingers in the tiger's ruff again, a move that was fast becoming habit when Nate chose this form.

They exited the clearing and followed the nature trail to the top, where a uniformed guard was waiting with four people.

Brad could have cried.

Standing next to the guard was his ex-girlfriend Julie and her husband, his best friend, Jake. The Logans, now. Behind them were two more people, who looked a little worse for wear. These must be the humans Nate had talked about. Walt sensed his anxiety and his heavy tail wrapped around Brad's arm and he licked the top of Brad's head with his scratchy tongue, rumbling in support.

The Bond filled with a rush of strength and confidence and he felt the tiger push his weight against Brad's leg before the four of them stepped forward, shifting back. The female human squeaked, seemingly uncomfortable with all the male nudity and Brad felt she was as new to this as he was.

“Greetings, visitors from the West. You are our guests tonight?” Wynn asked and Brad's attention was drawn away from their answer when the underbrush behind him crackled and a young doe stepped out. Brad realized, from the sudden flash in the Net, that this was Elder Shasta. The doe stood silently beside him and he watched with her as the proceedings continued.

“-we humbly ask permission to join you for the remainder of the full moon on your Running Grounds. Your council has given us permission, but we seek the blessing of the holders of these grounds.” Jake finished, looking over at Brad's position and Brad smoothed his face into a mask of innocence and submission as he cast his eyes down and away from the visitors.

Leader Jackson, who was tall, tan man with wildly spiked blonde hair and piercing hazel eyes, answered him. “You have Old World manners. That's not something you see very often anymore. Your mentor taught you well.” Any normal person would take this as a complement, and Jake did, but Brad knew that Leader Jackson was in on their attempted criminal behavior. With their identities confirmed, Great Fang and Gray Warren were going to be high alert.

“You may join us, so long as you swear to abide by our rules. Harm no supernatural. Harm no human. Respect everyone. Respect our land.” Leader Jackson said and Brad waited tensely. He knew if they swore to those rules, he'd be safe for the rest of the night.

“So we have sworn to it, and so shall we adhere to it.” All four intoned.

“Very well, follow us.” All four of them shifted back and Brad was relieved to have Nate's comforting warmth and heat pressed against his side again as they walked down the nature trial, back to the inner clearing. Next came the toughest part for Brad. As the only Tied human of one of the four supernaturals in charge, it was his responsibility to offer the humans of their visitors the chance to join the other humans.

Nate huffed at him and Walt licked his head again as he walked over to the smaller group. He inclined his head to Julie and Jake, keeping his face smooth and submissive and he approached the two humans.

“I am Bradley Colbert, Tied human of Deputy Fick. Would you care to join the other humans and I over by the fire?” He asked. The pair before him could have easily been brother and sister. Both were of average height with brown hair, olive skin and brown eyes. The man answered him.

“I am George Donati, Tied human of Jake Logan. This is my sister, Allison, Tied human of Julie Logan. It would be our pleasure. But may I ask a question of you, Mr. Colbert?” Brad nodded his head.

“Why is there a Clouded Leopard on your head?”

Chapter Text

The morning after his first official Run, Brad awoke to the sound of bagpipes in the house. He grumbled and growled, turning over onto his stomach and pulling the pillow over his head in an attempt to make sure the noise didn't filter in.

It didn't work.

With a final curse, he rose from the bed and stomped into his bathroom, where jumped into the shower. They hadn't gotten home from the Run until nearly four in the morning and Brad was certain Nate hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep. Then again, he didn't need as much sleep as Brad himself did.

There was a banging at his door and he leaned out of the shower. “What?” He shouted, certain he was heard over the pounding of the shower.

“You have five minutes to get out here before Walt eats all the ham and bacon, and the eggs, and then you'll be stuck with toast, so I'd hurry up if I were you!” He heard from the other side of the door and he twitched. No one should be that happy after only four hours of sleep. Brad finished his shower quickly, toweled off and threw on a pair of sweats. If there was one thing that stuck out about Nate's house, it was the lax dress code. He could parade around in just about everything but his birthday suit and his roommates never gave a peep.

We made it out to the kitchen just as Walt was reaching for the abandoned plate and Brad picked up a lone flip-flop from the floor, chucking it at Walt's head. Dead on. Walt made a sound like a cat dumped in a bathtub and turned a scalding look on Brad before slumping back in his chair, pouting, the sound of Nate's laughter a background to the scene.

Brad took his seat and brought his plate closer. He still marveled at the sheer amount of food that Nate and Walt could put away without effort. Compared to Nate's plate, Brad's looked like it belonged to the skinniest person alive. He thanked Nate as he set a cup of coffee in front of him and he watched as the other man took his spot at the opposite end of the table.

In the background, the bagpipes played a soothing tune and Brad looked at Nate askance. “What's with the bagpipes?” He asked, innocently enough, and Nate laughed at Walt's expression of disgust.

“I was on the treadmill this morning. I usually don't listen to this, but someone stole my CDs, so this was all I had. I like it. Walt can get over himself and put up with it until his flatmate brings me back my stuff.” Nate said, pointing his fork at the sulking blonde before returning to his food.

They ate in silence for a while before Brad spoke again, his plate almost empty. “I wanna go back tonight.” Nate dropped his fork in surprise and looked up at him with wide green eyes while Walt just plain gaped, mouth moving like a fish's.

“Brad, the woman who wants to kidnap you is there. Are you asking to be abducted?” Walt hissed. Nate made a soft growling sound in his chest and motioned for Walt to be silent for a minute while he spoke to Brad.

“Explain yourself, Brad. Why do you want to go back? Walt has a point.” He said. Nate was trying to be reasonable and let Brad present his case for going back, but he could see that other man was just holding back a long lecture about Brad, his safety and his apparent lack of regard for said safety.

“First of all, we can't let them know we're on to their plans. We work in a police station. What happens to criminals when they think the law is know their plans? They stop worrying about being meticulous and they start worrying about getting the job done and getting away. If they think you took me away because you know they want to abduct me, they're going to find a some other way to do it. Who knows, maybe they'll follow me to work, drop a fake distress call and then get me in a dark alley. I don't have a partner right now, and even if one of the other supernaturals went with me, something tells me the drugs they're on will give them an unfair advantage. Maybe they'll forget about taking me all together and just try to get rid of me. No, we need them to think we're clueless and that I'm still a viable target, without actually being one.”

Nate had to admit, there was merit to Brad's argument and he couldn't deny that these two seemed almost desperate to get their hands on Brad. “You're holding something back, Brad. What is it?” He asked, placing his fork on the table and steepling his fingers, leaning forward.

Brad was silent for a minute.

“I need to show them I'm not afraid.” He said, so quietly even Nate's enhanced hearing almost missed it. “I need to show them that, even though they cheated on me with each other, that they married each other, that they kept their true identities secret, that they haven't broken me yet. And that they never will.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nate drove the SUV into the parking lot with a little less than his usual ease, constantly snatching glimpses into the back, where Brad was sprawled lazily, paging through his notes from the earlier lesson on Clan and Pack hierarchy and politics. The gold chain was back around his neck and it stood out brightly against the black t-shirt and dark blue jeans the other man wore.

Nate had spent most of the afternoon rearranging security for the night and making sure the Leaders and the other Deputy knew that Brad was going to be there that night, which made his protection priority one. When they exited the SUV, Brad grabbed the cooler and Walt the duffel bag and they made their way down the nature trail to the clearing, which was almost empty because of the early hours.

Brad left the cooler with the duffel on the edge of the clearing before he went over to where Josh and another man were starting up the bonfire for the humans. He helped stack the firewood and then returned to Nate's side, who happened to be in the form of a light gray wolf. The wolf nosed his knee and Brad knelt down so Walt could climb back up on his head.

When Nate was called over to where Elder Shasta, in the form of an eagle, was perched on a stump, Brad was content to wander back over to the fire, where more humans were beginning to gather for the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was the end of the night before one of the visitors made a move on Brad. He was sitting in front of the fire, actually entertaining the group with a story from his days in the police academy. Jake came up to the group and waited until Brad was finished before he interrupted the group's laughter.

“Can I speak with you over there, Bradley?” He asked. Walt, who was perched on his head still, curled his lip and snarled, brushing his tail against Brad's chest in a show of hostility.

“I'm sorry, Sir, but Deputy Fick wants me to stay here. And I'm not supposed to talk to anyone outside the Clan or Pack without him present.” He said, respectfully, turning back to the group, about to launch into another story when there was a heavy hand on his upper arm, squeezing tightly. It hurt.

“Sir, you're hurting me.” He said softly. The look on Jake's face actually scared him and he tried to shrink away, but the other man's grip only tightened that much more. Brad was going to have a bruise in the morning. The group was silent and tense, but they had their own orders not to fight against the visitors. Walt raised his paw, dagger-like claws extended all the way in a threat.

“I really think you should come with me.” He said lowly, dangerously and, with a swift wrench, brought Brad to his feet, throwing Walt off of his perch, which left Brad with a weeping laceration on the back of his head and a sore shoulder. He cried out sharply, trying vigorously to get away.

Jake was about to force him away when the clearing was silenced by twin roars of rage. Brad looked over to see a furious looking tiger and lion stalking closer. The Bond was alight with rage and worry and Brad flinched. The intensity of Nate's emotions, intertwined with his own fear, was overwhelming. He felt twin brushes against his mind and he opened up the Net, only to be joined by Nate and Wynn.

“Are you alright, Brad?” The voice belong to Wynn, his voice laced with concern.

“For the most part.” His mental presence had taken on the bearing of a frightened puppy, pressing up the two older men. Jake still held his arm in a vice grip, refusing to let go. Nate padded up next to him and roared loudly, raising his paw and extending his claws in threat. His green eyes were alight with fury and Jake let go, scurrying back a few steps.

Nate shifted back immediately and began examining Brad with hurried hands, snarling at the already darkening hand-shaped bruise and the still dripping laceration on the back of Brad's head. “Come on. Doc Bryan's gonna fix you up and then we're getting the fuck out of here.” He said gently, stepping behind Brad and shepherding him to the far side of the clearing, where a grumpy looking man with a mustache was waiting for them, already with a pair of gloves on his hand.

Nate made Brad sit on a stump and took up a protective stance a few inches off to the side, giving the other man room to work. The doctor took one look at Brad's head, loosed a curse and went for his bag. “He needs stitches. How did this cut happen?” He asked.

“When he pulled me to my feet Walt fell off.” He answered, voice and countenance subdued. The doctor made another frustrated noise in his chest and Brad tensed with hiss and a gasp when a cold wet pad was pressed against the wound. Nate grabbed his hand and squeezed reassuringly.

Things blurred for Brad after that. Everything seemed to go black, then gray and then back. All he was aware of was Nate's reassuring presence, a padded bandage being taped over the wound on his head and sweet smelling salve rubbed on his bruising arm, covered by soft cloth bandages. He came back to himself when he felt strong hands helping him to his feet.

“Take him home, Nate. Let him rest. He needs to take a few days off, so he doesn't risk pulling his stitches out at work. Salve goes on twice a day, wrapped in bandages. Tylenol is okay, but don't give him too much. No alcohol. You know the rest.” He heard Nate mutter something in return and then he was gently being shuffled off again.

They were stopped right before they left the clearing, Wynn and Leader Jackson pressing in on either side in protective barricade. “They've been removed from the land. Elder Shasta herself is escorting them out of the state and she'll be calling California tomorrow to make sure a punishment is carried out. We can't do much beyond that, even though they broke their Oaths.”

Nate cursed long and loud about that.

“He gonna be okay?” That was Walt, but Brad was too shell-shattered to do much beyond put one foot in front of the other and follow Nate.

“Doc says he'll be fine in a few days. He's in shock. Too much at once. I'm supposed to let him sleep and then make sure he rests and eats for the next few days. He'll need vacation, until at least Thursday. Can we swing that, Mike?” Nate asked. There was a muzzy response and Nate snorted. “If you're certain.”

There was the sound of the SUV doors being opened and something shuffling about inside before Brad was boosted up into the backseat, which had been covered with one of the soft flannel blankets they kept in the SUV with a pillow propped against one side.

Brad was out before Nate finished pulling the other spare blanket up over his still body.

Chapter Text

Nate lay in front of Brad's bedroom door, keeping silent vigil. His chosen form, an orange marmalade tabby cat, was about as inconspicuous as he could get while in the house. Walt lay a little further down the hall from him, just as alert as him while they watched for danger.

So far Brad had awoken twice to nightmares, terrible ones that pulled Nate from his silent vigil and brought him into the room, where he sat with Brad until the nightmares passed and he drifted off into a restless slumber again.

Nate should have said no to going back. He should have put his foot down and ordered them all to stay home, even if that involved handcuffing Brad to the table so he didn't try to sneak out. Now, his Tied human, the one he swore to guide and protect, was lying in bed, injured and scared. And it was Nate's fault.

Nate was pulled from his reverie by another scream and Walt's startled yowl. Another nightmare. He swiftly shifted back and pulled on the plaid pajama bottoms that he'd left on the floor next to him, moving the doors open so he could get inside. Brad was sitting up in bed, panting heavily, the white of the bandages on his arm and head a stark contrast to the inky blackness of the room.

Nate crossed over and sat on the edge of the bed a ways from Brad so that the other man didn't feel trapped, hoping his proximity would ease the fear the other man was feeling. Nate was surprised when Brad grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward and against his chest, where he wrapped his arms tightly around Nate. Nate could feel the other man trembling behind him and he stayed perfectly still until Brad stopped shivering.

“You weren't kidding about the first couple of months, were you?” He felt, rather than heard, the mumbled complaint into his neck and Nate couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. It was true. New Tied pairs were always complaining about the over-emotional messes they ended up being for the first few months of having the Tie.

“No, I wasn't kidding. But you've also had a very rough night, and you need to rest, not listen to me babble on. You think you can go back to sleep?” He asked gently. Brad shifted behind him and mumbled something into Nate's shoulder. “What was that?” He asked.

“I said, will you stay here?” Brad asked again and Nate smiled gently.

“I will.” He said warmly. He stood so Brad could get comfortable under his blankets. He shucked off the pajama bottoms and shifted quickly and in his place, the orange tabby sprawled comfortably on the mattress, paws touching Brad's neck and rumbling thunderously. Brad got comfortable and put a large hand on Nate's ribs, rubbing the silken fur.

“Thank you, Nate.” He mumbled quietly.

“Just don't squish me, please?” Nate asked and purred louder when the final noise from Brad was a tired chuckle, before he drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brad slept through the night after that, with barely a whimper, and for that Nate was greatful. At sunrise, Nate extradited himself from Brad's hold, shifted back and went across the hall to his own room, where he dressed in running clothes. With a final check on Brad and another on Walt, who'd moved to the solarium to sleep on the air mattress, he grabbed his keys and his MP3 player and headed for the door.

Forest Hills Garden was deserted at this time of the morning, with the sun just peeking over the trees and Nate never had to worry about ducking out of the way of some hapless morning wanderer, which allowed him to get lost in his run without fear. With his music blasting through his ears, he began to think.

Last night, debacle that it had been, wasn't for a complete loss. When the visiting Were attempted to remove Brad by force, they were only proving Nate's accusations. Elder Shasta had been there to witness the whole thing and he was almost sure it would be brought to council before the next cycle of the moon was through.

His task until then was to keep Brad as protected as possible. Even if that meant giving Brad the free Master Suite for a more long-term period than either of them originally though. But that was okay with Nate, and Brad was a reasonable man. Once Nate explained the dangers through and through, he was sure Brad would agree.

Next on Nate's list was explaining to Brad the long-term repercussions to the Tie they now shared. He'd outlined most of them when Brad first agreed to the Tie. But how was he going to explain to Brad the fact that he would age the same way Nate did, so long as Nate was alive and they shared the Tie? That lemons, Mint, chocolate and certain plants were now off-limits? Would Brad be okay to the sudden restrictions on everything he did?

Then there was the threat to Brad's life. That was Nate's main concern at the moment. Elder Shasta had called last night to inform Nate that the oath-breaking visitors had been kicked out of New York all together and that she was expecting a call from the California head when they arrived back in their home state. Nate figured Brad would be safe enough to possibly go home after they were back in California.

Nate took another breath as he looked up at his route, only to discover he was already halfway home. The sun was now well over the treetops and he could feel the Bond coming to life as Brad awoke for the day. Nate pushed a feeling of warmth and comfort down the Bond and felt the more timid answer of his other half in response. Nate had noticed Brad wasn't quite comfortable using the Bond yet, even after the flash game Nate had used to make the Bond easier to access.

He understood though. Brad was his own person and having someone who had direct access to his thoughts and feelings was probably a little disconcerting for him. In a while he'd get used to Nate's constant mental presence. This was why the rule about asking permission before entering someone's mind had been established.

He stopped in front of his house and pulled out his ear-buds and shut off the MP3 player, stuffing the whole lot into the pocket of his basketball shorts. Walt had unlocked the door after he'd finished his run on the treadmill, as was the rule when he stayed over. One ran on the treadmill, the other outside, and when the one on the treadmill was finished, he unlocked the door for the other.

Nate slipped in silently, and listened intently for his two house guests. Their voices drifted to him from the solarium and Nate listened in as he pulled off his socks and shoes, checking his feet over blisters and other injuries.

“This is Nate's primary residence, his Den, and he guards everything and everybody inside it jealously. If someone attacks his den, its a slight not only to him personally, but to everyone who gave things to him in trust that he would care for them. He's got six other places around the globe, and if someone messed those up, he'd be pissed, but if this one was vandalized? You can bet there would be bloodshed.”

Nate paused. Why were they talking about this? There was muffled conversation for a minute before he heard Walt snort inelegantly.

“You better get used to him being overprotective Brad. You're his responsibility now. Did you know most supernaturals who get Tied to humans don't even like those humans? They're only doing it because their moral compasses won't let them watch an innocent human get locked up or killed for no reason. Nate fucking adores you. And I'm not exaggerating. This is the most animated and happy the Clan has seen him in fifty years. I can't attest for it, but Ray and Rudy and Wynn, heck even Pappy, will tell you that. Elder Shasta told me that even before we got there that night we captured you, the Council had decided to execute you. Nate stormed the chambers, argued on your behalf for nearly two hours, got them to agree, and was then punished for questioning their authority.”

“Punished?” Brad asked. Nate winced. Damn Walt for telling Brad this.

“They whipped him ten times with a gold-tipped bullwhip. Tore his back up something good. You wouldn't have seen it because he didn't take his shirt off in front of you and the fur would have covered up the wounds. He's good at hiding physical pain and he was so proud of himself for saving you, he didn't let Doc Bryan do much more than bandage his back. Said he'd endure a thousand more lashes if it meant you were safe.”

There was silence in the room for a minute and Nate decided to enter before Walt could reveal anymore secrets about him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brad was cleared for work that Thursday and his house was deemed safe and guardable again not two days after that. Nate agreed to let Brad move back into his house, so long as Brad agreed to guards stationed on the property. Brad readily agreed. While he was thankful to Nate for lending him one of his spare rooms, he was more than ready to be home.

When his bike pulled onto the driveway of his farm house for the first time in nearly a month and a half, Brad experienced an odd, shocking jolt. It wasn't painful, more disturbing than anything and he brushed it off. He looked around him and wasn't too shocked to find that his vision was much better than before. Nate had explained to him that the Bond and Tie would push many of Nate's powers and weaknesses over to him.

He'd be clearing out his refrigerator soon.

In the distance he could hear the baying of one of his guards as he hunted for small woodland animals, which Brad had agreed to allow so long as none of them ended up on his front porch the following morning.

Inside his house was well kept. It smelt clean, like someone had taken care of it while he was away. There was no dust and everything looked as if a maid had her way with it while he was away. He dropped his keys in the bowl by his door and toed off his boots, flipping on the light while he whistled a jaunty tune. He headed to the kitchen with a bottle of soda in mind, and flipped on the lights, only to freeze and choke back a scream.

Sitting at his table, one cradling a shotgun, the other duct tape and rope, were Jake and Julie Logan.

Chapter Text

The first thing Brad registered was a moment of out of place confusion. How on earth had they gotten past the guards stationed around his house? The second thing he registered was bone-chilling terror. They were in his house.

The next thing Brad did was fall back on his police training. He reigned in his emotions and reached for his service weapon in his shoulder holster. Jake leveled the shotgun at him and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Oh no you don't, Bradley. Hands where we can see them. Slowly.” He hissed. Brad froze for a moment before obeying, growling balefully. “You could have made this easier by coming with us at the Run. All you had to do was get up and come with me. But no.”

Jake made a motion with his head and Julie lay the tape and rope on the table before coming forward, relieving Brad of his gun and holster before walking backwards and leaving them on the table. He cursed himself for changing into shorts and a t-shirt before coming home. He felt bare in front of them. Brad stood in the entryway of his kitchen, weaponless, defenseless to his kidnappers' intentions.

“You never obeyed anyone before. You were your own person and you were the strongest willed man I'd ever met. Then a Shifter comes along and you get pulled into the world you were meant to be in the first place. But it wasn't supposed to be anyone outside of California to tell you.” Brad tensed as Julie took up the rope and approached him. He braced his legs to run and Jake pumped the shotgun. “Ah ah, Bradley. Stay right there. High Elder Jordan only gave the order to bring you in alive. He never said in what condition. He's got big plans for you.”

Julie was standing in front of him now and she reached up, wrapping her fingers tightly around his upper arm. He hissed in pain and anger as her grip remained tight around the healing bruise on his upper arm and, with the enormous strength all supernaturals possessed, she forced him to turn around. Just like if he were cuffing a perp, she pulled his other arm down. With his arms behind his back she made quick work of tying his wrists together tightly.

“Get above his elbows too. Can't have him worming around, can we now?” There was the sound of another length of rope being tossed over the length of the kitchen and seconds later Brad felt that being wound tight around his upper arms, drawing his shoulders painfully inward. He groaned lowly and he felt a small hand trace his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him that fell flat when he turned and snarled at Julie.

“Oh Bradley. Don't be a sore sport. You'll be home in California where you belong in just a few short days. And if you behave, maybe the Elder will even let you go outside. If you promise to be a good boy and not tug on your leash that is.” There was the sound of laughter and ratcheting duct tape before he was spun around again. Before he could open his mouth a strip of tape was placed over his lips and pressed on tightly.

“Two strips Julie. We want him as silent as possible.” Brad watched with frantic eyes as Julie pulled off another strip and placed that one over the other. “Julie, run upstairs and see if he's got a scarf or something and then get the SUV ready to go. We need to leave before the distraction ends and his guards notice something is amiss. Please.” Julie nodded and head up Brad's stairs while Jake set the shotgun down on the table.

“You caused me a lot of grief Bradley. High Elder Jordan was plenty upset when he found out you moved here. He got angry when the announcement of you and Deputy Fick being Tied was mailed to him. And boy was he pissed when we got kicked out of New York after our first attempt on you failed. Do you know what happens, Bradley, to a supernatural that's labeled “Oath-Breaker”? Nobody wants anything to do with you. Supernatural owned businesses are closed to you. We were kicked out of our Pack, because of you! But see, it's all gonna be worth it in the end. Once we deliver you to High Elder Jordan, he's gonna pay us a big lump of cash, and Julie and I are going back to the Old World. We'll disappear, and you'll be trapped, the favored Pet of the California Head.” Brad felt the blood drain from his face and Jake chuckled. He grabbed Brad by the arm and dragged him over to a chair and pushed him down.

Julie came back at that moment, carrying the soft black scarf Brad had been given by Josh, a present for the upcoming cold season. She handed that to Jake and went back outside. Brad used the chance to try and call for Nate, and he managed to push his terror down the Bond, but he only received static in return.

“Ah yes, your Tie. High Elder Jordan is especially unhappy about that. You see, Bradley, there's no way to break a Tie between a supernatural and his human. It's permanent, unless one dies. It is an ancient magic. You see our conundrum? We can't very well kill your Shifter. You'd fall ill for a very long period of time and your body would never accept another Tie. Even attempting one could kill you. And if we killed your Shifter, you'd stop aging with him, which means you'd die all too soon for the Elder's liking. Which leaves us with one option. We capture your Shifter and keep him locked away.”

Brad tried to snarl at him, but the tape prevented any noise from escaping and Jake chuckled. “Here's the marvelous thing. Not a soul will over know where you and your Shifter are. California will look innocent. We'll get off scott-free.” Jake leaned over and wrapped the scarf tight around Brad's head, blocking out his vision. “I'm going to have some fun with you on the way there, though. Like I said. He said alive. He never said unharmed.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nate drove down the road with the speed and precision of a fighter pilot. Next to him was grim-faced Elder Shasta and in the back, an equally angry Ray, Wynn and Rudy. Behind him was another SUV, carrying reinforcements and behind them a black ambulance. Sirens blazed and lights flashed from all three vehicles and cars made room for them on the road.

The ring of Nate’s OnStar call service was answered by Elder Shasta. “Speak to me Allan. What's happening on the security feed?” She said tersely. There was a moment of intense noise followed by the clacking of computer keys.

“The recorder is catching everything and the nanny cam's are doing the same But you need to step on it, guys. They're taking him right now. The guards are still fighting off the mercenaries and can't get to him.” Nate cursed, his voice rough and full of fury.

“He's not hurt, is he Allan?” Ray asked from the back.

“No. He's fine. Just scared from what I see. High Elder Jordan in California's got some pretty upsetting plans for him and Nate. You're not gonna believe what he's stooping to. They don't want him for drugs like we originally thought. She threw us off that day Nate. He's not gonna be a mule. High Elder Jordan wants him as a Ski'eta.”

There was a moment of terrible silence.

“He wants Brad as a Ski'eta?” Elder Shasta asked, sounding appalled and furious. A Ski'eta, a slave in every sense of the word, broken to his master's will. Men and women whose very souls were ripped away as they were physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually abused. They would not leave Brad to that fate.

They refused.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jake had just finished tying together Brad's ankles and knees when Julie rejoined the. “That was Eric. He says the mercenaries can keep the guards for another five minutes, but there are three vehicles fast approaching. ETA, less then four minutes. He thinks its the Shifter and reinforcements. A lot more then the mercenaries can handle. But there's another problem. The mercenaries are so banged up, they can't carry their injured members, which means New York has captives with vital information.”

Jake shrugged his shoulders. “Let them keep the mercs. They'll need a lot more than the say-so of a few mercenaries to bring charges against High Elder Jordan. Turn the lights off. We need to leave now.” Julie bustled off while Jake shouldered Brad with the ease of someone lifting a sack of grain and carried him out the door.

The back of the Explorer was open, the bottom of the small trunk lined with blankets and Jake thumped Brad down, snickering at Brad's startled whimper of pain. He draped even more blankets over Brad's bound form and closed the hatch. “The plane will meet us in Illinois tomorrow night. Non-stop until we get there.” Julie reported and Jake nodded. They could hear the sounds of the approaching cars and both scrambled for their seats.

The Explorer roared to life under Jake's hand and he split away, kicking up gravel and whooping the while way, carrying on as he screamed up the road, leaving the other three vehicles in the dust. “Catch me now, fuckers!” He shouted, laughing along as he they blazed away, leaving the New York Supernaturals in the dust.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The New York contingent sat solemnly in the large lobby of the warehouse-turned-supernatural hospital, glancing at the door that led to emergency services. The minute they'd lost sight of the escaping Explorer, Nate had lost his composure to an extent they'd never seen before. His anguished cries had shaken the chilly early fall night air and tore at their heart strings. It was almost a death wail, his howling was so agonized.

The door opened and a disquieted looking Doc Bryan entered the lobby. Elder Shasta joined him at his behest and they spoke in low, rapid voices before she returned, looking as unsettled as ever. “They had to sedate him.” She said quietly.

There was a moment of utter silence in the group and the Elder continued. “Josh and I are taking Nate with us to the Catskills so he can recover and settle down while we gather the evidence against High Elder Jordan. The Grand Council will be here in two weeks. We're convening for the Tribunal in Scotland. They want us all on state neutral ground. You'll all be expected to go. As for the mercenary captives, Mike, I'm putting you and Avery in charge of getting statements and setting up places for them to be held until the Tribunal. Call him now, while the Doc is working on them. The rest of you. Deputy Logan will be by to take your statements about the events of tonight. If he calls, make the time for him, alright?”

“Yes Ma'am.” She received as an answering chorus and she nodded. She was about to turn around to go get Nate when Wynn stopped her.

“What's going to happen with the security feeds for tonight? Won't they have to be examined to make sure there was no tampering?” She nodded wearily.

“We started a live stream to the office of the Grand Council the minute we found out the Oath-Breakers were back in the state. A copy will stay at CenTech. Another will be vaulted. Another was live streamed to the Investigative Unit in DC. Josh and Human Resources has a copy and I have two, one of which will go in a safe at the Catskills mansion and the other at my house. If the copies CenTech, Human Resources and I have match the vaulted copy and the cached copies that the Investigative Unit and the Grand Council have, then they know it's authentic.” Wynn seemed pleased with this answer.

“Alright guys. Go home. As much as I hate to say this, there's nothing we can do for Brad until the Tribunal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brad was only dimly aware when the vehicle stopped. He was curled up tightly against the pain of his bruised chest and abdomen, shivering from cold and hunger. They'd driven for what felt like days before Brad had been unceremoniously lifted from the trunk and carried up what felt like stairs. He'd been settled on a soft leather surface and soon they were airborne, the feeling of flying easily discernible even blindfolded.

That's when the beating had started.

It was almost casual. Someone would walk past and delivered a sharp kick to his exposed middle, and all he was able to do to defend himself was curl inward and silently plea for them to stop. They hadn't given him food or water and he'd only been allowed three restroom breaks the whole trip. The ropes were repeatedly tightened and the tape and blindfold stayed on. He was clueless, helpless, and terrified.

When the plane had landed he'd been picked up again and carried down the steps to the sound of mean-spirited laughter as he groaned in pain from his injuries. Now he was uncovered from the nest of blankets in the back of what was probably another SUV and he trembled when he felt the cold steel of a knife as the bonds holding his shorts-clad legs were removed.

He was pulled out and set on unsteady feet while another pair of hands undid the blindfold. He was thankful it was nighttime, otherwise he may have been blinded as he looked at the large mansion before him. Set into the hillside, it was huge, with open grass on all sides and bordered with trees that were just beginning to change color.

“Welcome to California, Bradley.”

TBC