Thanks to the Duckling for the beta.

I hope this helps some of you to erase those horrifying images from the finale from your head.

Artie glared over his glasses as Helena entered, his displeasure at having to deal with her now, on top of this damn case, was evident. He had been at this game long enough to know that a system was only as strong as its weakest part and currently, HG Wells was clearly that part. There she was standing: Pale, hands shivering, dark shadows around her eyes. He knew the symptoms, he knew what she was doing. What he didn't know was the reason why.

"Okay." The Beelzebub drew a deep, disgruntled sigh, opening a file to look busy while he was talking to the Vampire. Artie didn't like the thought of involving himself in his employee's personal affairs. It was part of his job, though, he could hardly help it. "How many days, Agent Wells?" He kept his tone business-as-usual, demanding. None of the concern that might have crept in for Claudia, or even Myka. He didn't want to be concerned, and honestly he doubted Wells would appreciate it. He didn't look up from his file.

Helena's eyebrows furrowed immediately, but her pause finally brought Artie's eyes up from his file, he could clearly see a genuine confusion. Whether she was confused about the meaning of his question or about how he had found out was more ambigious.

"Pardon?" HG asked, her voice trembling a bit. Clear signs, her boss groaned internally, she must think I am an idiot.

"How many days have passed since you last fed?" He set down the file and looked his agent in the eye. He leant forward, interlocking his fingers in front of his mouth while frowning slightly. His body language clearly signalling: 'I know what's going on. Don't even try to fool me.'

"I-" Helena's mouth opened, but that pronoun was everything that made it out. If he hadn't been sure before (he had been) he was now. This was the precise problem that made whatever was bothering the vampire his business. The loss of control. Vampires were always the masters of their state: their bodies, their hair, their emotions. The way they talked. Artie assumed that this must have been the actual reason why werewolves hated them. He wasn't sure, but it was pretty obvious that werewolves were never in control. Vampires were the polar opposite, always in a cool, collected state. But as soon as you took away the blood from them, they were nothing but hungry, stuttering and actually rather normal (well, if compared to their usual state) looking people with self-control issues.

"Agent Wells." Artie began, leaning back in his chair and regarding her with some exasperation. Two words he had managed to extract from her since she entered his office. He really did not have time for this. His gaze was set to convey his knowledge of her issues and annoyance at her idiotic attempts to cover it. Also, he was her senior officer and he really didn't want to be having this damn conversation. The actual words that left his mouth were slightly different but no less blunt in tone, "Do you know that your work in our team is a serious and important one?"

"Yes." Helena gave back, rolling her eyes slightly. Artie could tell that she was trying to imagine either some really good excuse for being on blood deprivation, or some insults for him. Or both. Not that she would be successful in either.

"So how on earth are you planning to do such serious and important work as the lacklustre creature you currently present?" The Beelzebub asked with a slight smile on his face.

"I am-" HG opened her mouth again, apparently she had finally found some excuse. But Artie interrupted her immediately. He wasn't interested in excuses, he was interested in solving a problem before the high-ups got wind of it. And currently, his problem was a vampire on blood deprivation. Not Helena Wells' personal interests. Well... those could be part of his problem, but he could only deal with one uncomfortable topic at a time.

"Agent Wells, blood deprivation is a serious danger in the field. For colleagues and civilians. You're working with humans." Artie noticed that black flickering in the vampires eyes in reaction to his last word. He bit back an audible sigh, feeling it wouldn't help the situation. "Believe it or not, I've been fighting to get you on my team, Miss Wells. I don't want to have to disappoint everyone I talked into allowing me to take you on because you're trying to starve yourself to death for whatever reason. Do you know how long it took me to get Mrs. Frederic's support for this?" He rose his voice so she could actually understand that this situation was a serious one and that she better wasn't fooling anyone. Least of all him. Mrs Frederic hadn't been much for ‚going with Artie's gut on this one'... his reputation was on the line as much as hers. "So, Wells, I think I can demand a simple answer to that question of how many days you've gone without food."

"Five." Her shoulder slumped for just a moment before she drew herself up to full height (his height, had he been standing up).

"I won't even ask why." His voice lowered and a little of that concern that he had been trying to avoid entered despite himself. "I just want you to solve the problem. But let me phrase it like this... Are you out of your mind?" It wasn't quite a shout but it might as well have been. The vampire's senses were entirely out of whack and Artie could entirely understand why. Three days was hard for a vampire. Many of them fainted during their fourth day. But five? Artie couldn't help but be a little impressed. "You're off duty for the rest of the night. Go get yourself some blood."

Helena looked up at the ceiling, running a hand back through hair which didn't fall back into place as impressively as it usually did.

"Don't you think, Artie," She started, indignant and slightly frustrated. "Don't you think that if I was actually able to do that, I would?"

Now, the Beelzebub's eyebrows darted up and he felt a little insecure. "Well, it's not that hard, is it? All you have to do is the tee-"

"Artie." HG looked at him with her eyes glistening in anger. Her emotions were absolutely not in check and it was making him increasingly uneasy. Perhaps he should have had Mrs Frederic deal with this. Or Leena. Or anyone that wasn't him. "I absolutely know how. My problem is the circumstances that come with it."

The older agent grunted, he leaned forwards in his chair. "Don't tell me you suddenly developed something like remorse."

The sigh he was rewarded with by Helena impressed him again.

"So, it's not you... it's- Oh!" Artie looked up at HG. "Is something wrong with your coven?"

He was getting warm. Artie had always liked breaking codes. He preferred when the code wasn't written across a face, but the pleasure of solving one couldn't be beat, whatever its form. "But that can't be. James wouldn't let that happen, would he?" Agent Neilson's eyes darted guiltily through the room, as it dawned on him that he was a little more involved in H.G. Wells' personal problems than he had any desire to be. "You're struggling with your coven because of Myka, aren't you?" The Beelzebub coked his head to the side. Usually, he wasn't able to sense this on vampires, but now that Helena was lacking control over her emotions... "Is that fear I sense on you?"

Helena didn't answer, she just looked at him, her face set into the best mask she could manage.

"HG." This really wasn't somehing he wanted to be talking about. "Did it really have to be a werewolf? I mean, James mentioned your tendency to be provocative towards your coven, but does it have to be this way? You're bringing the truce in danger, HG. And if that really is fear you're feeling - and I know a lot about fear - then you're apparently also putting yourself in danger. Shall I call James? When he asked me to hire you he told me that I should take good care of you, so plea-"

"He did?" Helena asked, sounding alarmed.

"Yes, yes." Artie was struggling more and more with the change of their conversation and the fact that even in her condition, Helena Wells was in control over their conversation. He was her boss, he was telling her what to do. He was leading this conversation, wasn't he?

`HG stared at him, her eyes widened. She blinked repeatedly, looking like she was pondering his words. "You're right, Artie." She finally said. "I should take the rest of the night off."

"You should?" Artie asked, tilting his head.

"Yes." Helena gave back, turning on her heels.

"HG!" Her boss yelled, rising from his chair. "I didn't give you leave to go. Where are you going?"

Even as an impressively purposeful walk carried her out of his office, Helena quickly threw over her own shoulder, "I'll be working on the problem my coven has with Myka."

Humans. Myka constantly asked herself if they suspected something about the hidden society that was part of their world. A lot of demons worked in human companies, in human society, to give themselves a comfortable standard of life.

The concept of peace with only one side knowing what exactly was happening was kept by a smaller group of powerful demons, The Regents. They made the decisions. They took care that no one became suspicious about what really was going on if - for example - suddenly humans went missing. The Regents were in charge of Artie's team, they constantly watched their work and judged it by their own point of view.

And so, Myka was not surprised to smell Walter Sykes at the crime scene she and Pete were visiting. Walter was a Grendel - an ugly demon when in demonic form - who worked in the forensic department of the town's police. Usually, Walter made sure to stay in his lab but when the Regents doubted the field work of Artie's team, he was sent out into the field to monitor them.

And Grendels stank. It was a fact. And one didn't need the nose of a werewolf to smell him from across the room... or building.

Myka scrunched her nose , horrified, when they walked up the staircase of the apartment builing in which the crime scene was. She huffed in absolute disapproval. Pete looked at her, smiling sympathetically.

"I know." He mentioned, sounding like he was in pain. "I smell him, too."

The door of the apartment they were heading for was open and crime scene tape was glued across it. The Agents Bering and Lattimer flashed their badges at the police officer who observed the door. He sighed in reaction, nodded slowly and then yelled into the apartment over his shoulder.

"Harmon! You told me to tell you you if the Agents arrive."

"Yes?" A familiar, female voice asked.

"Well." The police officer rolled his eyes. "They're here!"

Myka rolled her eyes before exchanging a look with Pete. Harmon. Of course. Followed closely by Pete, the werewolf crouched under the tape to make her way into the apartment. She was greeted by Detective Harmon immediately, who marched with straightened shoulders towards them.

"Aha!" The detective sounded irritatingly pleased with herself. "Lattimer and Bering. As you can see, I do remember your name. After the two of you took down my medical examiner in her own morgue, I did a little research."

Myka sighed internally. Of course. Like the case wasn't already complicated enough.

Pete smiled his most innocent smile at Detective Harmon.

"Research? On us? I'm flattered you've put so much effort in finding information on me, Detective Harmon. But you could have just asked for my number." He stepped closer, entering the Detective's personal space. Who had her eyebrows now furrowed and blinked repeatedly. "Jane. Can I call you Jane? I would have been glad to tell you anything you wanted to know in company of candles, maybe dinner in a restaurant and two glasses of their best red wine."

Myka suppressed a giggle, looking down to the ground with her hands on her hips. Sometimes, she loved Pete. He was very good at talking to humans. Kind of...

While the Nephil kept the poor Detective occupied, his partner started surveying the room not only with her eyes but also her nose. Sykes' scent numbed her sense of smell, but she was still able to see analyse the room. There were fourteen people moving through the room - examining the body, looking for evidence, mapping the crime scene. The police were apparently taking this spree of killings seriously. There was no relative of the victim this time. At least Myka wasn't seeing anybody talking to a bundle of tears.

The prey's lifeless body - The victim's lifeless body, Myka corrected herself - was sitting on the floor, her - first female victim, the agent noted - back leaning against the couch's edge, limbs again opened wide, chest and stomach opened as well. Myka mentally noted down that this victim also had those typical bite marks. She was sure she would find an injection mark at the woman's neck, if she was allowed close.

The werewolf's gaze wandered through the living room, spotting Walter at the window. He was just putting a piece of red and damped fabric into a bag. The Grendel turned around, noticing her. He narrowed his eyes and nodded into the direction of the door that Myka assumed to be the bedroom door.

She nodded in approval, indicating she would join him presently. Sykes went, crossing the room immediately to disappear through that door.

"You can stop with those silly attemps to flirt with me, Agent Lattimer. Your female colleague's attemps didn't work either." Pete wasn't having much luck with Harmon. The Nephil looked surprised, but then smirked at Myka. His partner shook her head, mouthing 'Not me. Helena'.

"I talked to the secret service and they have in fact no idea who you two are. Nor do Agent Wells and Jinks check out." Harmon's voice was triumphant.

"Well, Detective Harmon, we're taking the 'secret' in 'Secret Service' very seriously." Myka responded carefully. This wasn't the first human who thought they had figured everything out.

"But..." Harmon started, her eyes looking confused for a brief moment. Then she went back to her serious Detective look again. "You two have no birth dates. There is no information on where are you from or what your professional background is." She looked into the files she held in her hand, slowly beginning to turn the pages.

"Okay, maybe I can help you with that." Pete took another step closer to the confused Detective to look over her shoulder. "I hope you are aware of the fact that google is not an acceptable research source in this case, Detective Harmon. Look, here, my birth year is 75." Pete put his finger into the file and Myka smiled. Of course he didn't say which century.

Now that the werewolf was certain that her partner had the annoying detective under control, she slowly moved over to the bedroom door. And now that Sykes' dreadfulsmell as a little less intense, another scent reached the werwolf's nose which confused her a little but failed to grasp her whole attention. Distractedly, she sniffed at the sleeve of her own coat while she opened the bed room door and closed it carefully behind herself.

"Hello, Walter." Myka greeted Sykes monotonously. "Did we alarm the Regents so much that they sent you to check on us?"

"As always, Agent Bering." Walter returned, arrogant as usual, "I'm only here to support your work on this case. I am not a spy. But I have to admit that Mrs. Frederic is a little concered that it's taking you so long. The fact that we had a third victim already displeased the Regents. Now, there is fourth victim with the same wounds on her chest. And three dead humans - yelling 'a demon killed me' - are still lying in the human's morgue. What is your team even doing, Agent Bering?"

Myka folded her arms in front of her chest, frowning at him. "We're trying our best-"

"I did my best to hide rather obvious information from the humans." Walter interrupted her. "For example the Arach venom that have been injected into the prey's neck and also the remains of disintegrated intestines in the ripped-open torso of the prey, but it's getting harder and harder." The Grendel went on, gesturing wildly with his hands.

The werewolf nodded. "Your effort in this case is appreciated, Walter."

"Yeah, it would be better if I didn't need to put effort into something aside my work in my own lab, Agent Bering. I would prefer to not have to leave my lab at all." He growled. Myka noticed again how much he liked to hear himself talk. She had met him a few times. "But, to assure you, I'm going to tell the Regents that you're doing your job in the best possible way and that there isn't anything you could do more. Based on everything I've witnessed." Walter said generously.

"Thank you, Walter. That is also very much appreciated." Myka tried hard to not roll her eyes. Walter was arrogant and annoying, but they needed his support.

"Okay, Agent Bering, we shouldn't be alone in this room any longer, otherwise the humans will get more suspicious than they already are." Sykes nodded thoughtfully. "You have to pay attention to Detective Harmon, I think she is on a path she shouldn't be. But there is another circumstance that alarms me." Walter stepped closer causing Myka to press the edge of her hand against her nose, trying to look like she was rubbing her cheeks in attention while closing her nose with the lenght of her index finger.

"We're not alone." The grendel whispered enigmatically. "There is someone who doesn't belong to their team."

"What do you...?" Myka asked in confusion. But then she got reminded of the scent she had been smelling in the living room.

"He has been observing our work, looking at the victim and sticking his nose into the matters of the human police department. I think he's trying to get information of his own. I don't know what his intentions are." With those words, Sykes nodded for a last time at her and then he left the room.

Myka counted to ten and then followed him. She spotted Pete who was still talking to Harmon, the detective's face flushed with anger. Pretending she was looking for evidence, Myka analysed the room again, this time more thoroughly, paying special attention to the scents in the room. There was a werewolf amongst the forensic team, she was sure.

Myka froze in the middle of the living room, nearby the victim as she spotted a lean brunette man leaving the apartment rather quickly by dodging under the crime scene tape across the door. Instantly, the werewolf walked over to Pete, not drawing her eyes away from the door. Through her teeth, she huffed at her partner:

"Pete, go to the car and get my bag."

The Nephil's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Your bag?" While asking, he sounded a little bit annoyed.

She nodded quickly, eyeing Detective Harmon next to him. "I have a thing to do."

Without looking at him again, the werewolf left the crime scene. In the stairway, she turned her head: the police officer who had watched the apartment's door was gone now.

Myka looked down the staircase, spotting the suspect running through the hall four stories lower, leaving the apartment building through the front door.

Again making sure nobody was looking her way, the agent lifted herself over the balustrade and dropped herself, landing neatly on the ground of the hallway. She quickly shook her head and then turned around and follow the other werewolf. He had turned right on the street, she could smell him.

While running through the night, Myka opened the buttons of her coat, pulled it off and dropped it on the street. Her eyes glowed green.

Pete hated it when Myka was doing this. When she hurriedly left the apartment, he looked after her, and then regarded that obnoxious Detective next to him with a bright, innocent and utterly forced out smile.

"Are you your partner's servant, Agent Lattimer?" The detective purred with her right eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on her face.

"Well, you don't know what it is in this bag. And she's serving me a lot of donuts afterwards." Pete sighed internally but forced himself to stay calm and polite. "If you would excuse me, I have a bag to deliver." The Nephil backed slowly up to follow Myka through the stairway, of course she was already gone.

He sighed when he found his partner's coat and her belt with her gun, her revolver, handcuffs, badge and wooden stake on the pavement in front of the apartment building.

So he didn't just have to bring the werewolf her bag, he also was supposed to collect her clothes. Brilliant. This would mean a whole basket of donuts for him.

Quickly, he moved over to the car and opened the trunk. Pulling out the small bag, he turned his head around, searching for a trace of his partner. He sighed, Myka could be anywhere now. She had always made it hard for him to find her in these situations. He had to improvise as always. Then his view fell on a piece of fabric, lying at the entrance of an aisle between two higher buildings and he sighed.

Follow the trail of ripped clothes, Commander Pete. He thought while approacing the aisle. At its end there won't be a white rabbit, but a big brown werewolf, slobbering and shedding. I hope this encourages you.

Pulling strap of the bag over his shoulder, the Nephil crossed the street and bend down to Myka's jumper, but the fabric was ripped, so he decided he would leave it here. Destroyed clothes weren't worth collecting.

At the corner, a few feet away from the jumper, the Agent found a bra, also in tatters. Immediately, he put his hand over his eyes. "Goddammit, Mykes. I really don't need this right now. No. Let's put that differently, I don't need this at all. Ever. I'm not going to touch this."

Pete went on walking. Quickly, he lifted himself over a higher fence which squeaked under his body weight. On it, there was dangling a brown piece fur. Yes, he was definitely following the right track.

In the back yard the Nephil had entered, he found a ripped jeans and a piece of fabric he didn't want to identify. This was when he heard the first sound of a fight going on. The grunting, growling and barking of two fighting werewolves came from a smaller place next to the backyard and Pete stepped over the smaller fence to join them.

Pete looked at the furry bundles of the two werewolves, swiping at eachother with their claws. Myka was currently lying on her back, covered by her black opponent, who tried to bite her throat. Pete sighed, dropping Myka's bag and coat to the ground.

"Do you have this under control, Mykes, or do you maybe need help?" He asked, looking at his fingernails.

His partner growled, pushing the black werewolf away with a sudden move of her hind legs. She howled briefly, jumping up to stand on two feet and then attacked her opponent again. The black werewolf tossed her into the next wall immediately. Dust and dirt was send flying across the place, causing Pete to roll his eyes. "Hey, you two. A little less obvious, please. There are humans living here."

Myka jumped up again, landing on her hind legs. She snarled at Pete before turning around to pull the other werewolf off his feet. Teeth were gritted, and Pete spotted the first drops of blood running through Myka's fur, so he decided to stop this right now. The agent pulled up his sleeves, walked over to the black wolf - who just had Myka pressed to the ground again - and hit him as hard as he could with his fist.

Nephilim were known as the strongest demons, so it was no wonder that the black werewolf was simply trashed into the next wall, howling and whimpering like a puppy. The creature didn't move now, so Pete thought it was safe to walk over to Myka's bag. He took his time to open it, pulling out a big black sheet and throwing it at Myka before pulling the handcuffs and the revolver from his belt.

The other werewolf seemed to be waking up from his forced sleep again, so Pete quickly lifted with his revolver at the creature.

"Yo, Lassie, you better turn back before I decide to put one of this silver bullets in my gun between your eyes." The yellow eyes of the wolf focussed the object in his hands for a second. "I'm very serious." The nephil declared, shrugging.

With a huff, the wolf started turning back, his fur disappearing, losing more than the half of his body height and a big part of his muscle mass. Pete knew that Myka was doing the same behind him, while being wrapped in a sheet. She didn't like him to watch her transformation.

When the black werewolf had his human form again (slighty disappointing Pete, that guy was only a boy), the Nephil walked over to him. Carefully trying to not touch the naked man more than necessary, the agent turned him around so he was lying on his stomach. Pete forced the werewolf's hands on his back to start handcuffing him.

"Special steel." Pete explained while working. "To suppress your ability to turn, so don't even try."

When he was finished he turned around to Myka, who had wrapped the sheet he had given her around her chest. She was bend over the bag to pull out her changing clothes.

"You owe me a big box of donuts." Pete declared, eyeing the werewolf under his knees.

"Yeah, put that on the list." Myka replied, holding her jeans under the sheet to put it on. Quite awkwardly for the dangerous looking creature she just had been a few minutes ago, the werewolf wiggled her body into her trousers.

"Please tell me who this is." Her partner demanded now, kneeling harder into the man's shoulder because the black werwolf had made attempt to crawl away.

"I believe this is our first suspect." Myka mentioned without looking at them. She pulled a shirt over her head and got rid of the sheet afterwards. Carefully, she surveyed a bite mark on her arm. "I'm okay by the way and had everything under control, but thanks for your appreciated help."

"But he is no Arach." The Nephilim looked down at the suspect, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yes, Pete. I'm aware he is a wolf. But he was at the crime scene even though I'm pretty sure he doesn't belong to the forensic team. And he certainly observed the crime scene and much more worse: He observed us." Myka approached them, folding her sheet neatly. "So I think arresting him for a little questioning would be a good decision. Especially since he attacked me when he found me following him."

"So, then, Boomer." Carefully, Pete tapped his finger on the other man's shoulder. "Where are your clothes so we can take you with us without getting blind, hm?"

The naked werewolf didn't reply.

"Okay, Mykes, he is not responsive, I think he is making use of his right to remain silent." The Nephil concluded, shrugging a bit helplessly.

"Then lead him to the car." His partner grinned.

"No way, Mykes. I'm not putting a naked man into my car. The seats were just cleaned." Pete looked at her with her eyes widened, shaking his head profusely.

Myka sighed. Then she threw her sheet at him. "Wrap him in this."

"Can't you do it, please? I don't wanna see his...you know." The Nephil tried, holding up the sheet at her again.

"Pete, I know that you're eight years old but you're also working for our agency so, please, just do your job. I don't want to see his 'you know' either." Pete could see a grin on her face before she turned around. Sighing deeply, the Nephil stepped back towards their suspect.

While he was working, Myka slightly sniffled and looked around.

"What is it?" Pete asked while rolling the suspect over the ground to wrap him in the sheet. The black werewolf was completely limp in his arms. Apparently, he was trying to make it harder than necessary for the Nephil.

"It smells a lot like humans around here." His partner mentioned warily.

"As I said Myka, there are humans living here." Her friend replied, rolling his eyes hard. "If you'd help me getting the naked man to the car..."

And now, Myka and Pete were so occupied with teasing eachother about the naked man that neither of them recognised Detective Harmon sneaking through a dark aisle, in her hand her mobile phone.