"You got a goddaughter? Congratulations, man!"

Monroe slapped his shoulder and Nick chuckled as he accepted the tea that came with the friendly slap.

"Her name is Penny. Well, Penelope Nicole. Zoe told me that her grandmother's name was Penelope."

Monroe smiled. "We all know why she is a Nicole, too."

That had the Grimm blush faintly. "I wouldn't have wanted that. Really. She kinda broadsided me with that."

"Hey, it's nice. Godparents are right next to grandparents. You can spoil her rotten!"

Nick sat down, shrugging. "It's just a bit strange that she asked me. I'm a Grimm, Monroe."

"As if we would ever forget."

"That's the point."

"No, the point is that you are the best that happened to a lot of us in the past years and Zoe loves you to pieces. Well, not like she loves Gary, you know, but man, she was ready to bash your mother over the head with a baseball bat. While pregnant!" He stopped, then added, "Zoe. Not your mother."

Nick drank some more tea. "And the more involved you all get, the more dangerous it gets. Now she is a mother. She has a family to worry about."

"And her baseball bat wielding skills will get even fiercer. Nick, dude, snap out of it, okay? Wesen live in a dangerous world. Some more than others. We chose you, man. End of story. If you keep falling into the guilt pit every time something happens… you'll be one busy Grimm."

Nick chuckled. "True."

"And Renard took care of the situation for a while."

"Yeah."

"Heads rolled, end of that chapter in the story. Better theirs than ours, I say."

"Truer words and all, Monroe."

The blutbad lifted his mug. "Cheers. Speaking of bloodshed and all…"

Nick rolled his eyes.

"You two made up in a good way."

Now the blush came back.

Monroe smirked and tapped his nose.

Nick cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"Very tell-tale," his friend only said. "And good for you."

"Let's not talk about it."

"You are talking about it." Nose-tapping again. "I think Rosalee can mix you a really good herbal shower gel…"

"Monroe…"

"Really good. I tried it and… let me tell you, man, it was really good!"

"Monroe!"

The blutbad cleared his throat, light embarrassment reflecting on his face, but his eyes were filled with memories that were clearly x-rated. Nick ignored it because apparently he smelled like he and Sean had had sex just recently to a blutbad. And wasn't that the truth.

"Yes, well, enough about that. Renard's back then."

"Yeah."

"And you know where he went off to and why?"

The Grimm nodded.

"Anything you wanna share? Can share? Not that I really want to know or anything…"

"I think that's no longer an option, Monroe. It's why I'm here. Things happened and I think you need to hear about them, too."

Monroe looked suddenly serious. "Sounds bad," he said quietly. "And like I'll need something stronger than tea."

"Probably."

In the end Monroe needed a very strong tea with a very strong extra shot.

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"You can be proud of him."

Renard leaned back in his seat, smiling a little even though his sister couldn't see it through the phone. "I am."

"Handling a Protectorate and three assassins?" Mireille sounded amused. "Well, two, actually."

Sean smirked. "Yes, two."

"You sound insanely proud, dear brother."

And he was. His mate had taken out two very dangerous wesen on his own.

"His allies are commendable as well," Mireille went on, still far too amused. "I hope you thanked him for what he did for King and Protectorate."

Thankfully she hadn't said Queen and Country.

"I'm hardly a king."

"Hm, right. But your little Grimm has grown up so quickly."

He chuckled, gazing out the window. It was dark outside, a steady drizzle obscuring the view.

"Have you talked to Maurice?" Mireille changed the topic.

"No. Was I required to?"

"Oh, Sean. Still holding a grudge?"

"No."

"Liar, liar…"

"He's fine, Miri. You can't kill the bastard that easily."

"I know."

"He says hi, by the way."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"I'm glad everything worked out, Sean. For everyone. We did what was necessary and I would do it again in a heartbeat."

Renard turned away from the window, noting Mireille's tone of voice. Gone was the softness, the teasing. There was the edge of the regnant in there, the lingering blood lust, the rage that had taken lives.

"They won't touch us or him again."

"For now."

"If they dare, more will die."

Renard smiled darkly at the proclamation, the promise, the vow. He had no doubt that Chile and England was currently not a good place to be for any member of the Royal Families or their allies.

"I believe we shall have some quiet time for now, little brother," Mireille said. "Nick will have only his usual Grimm things to take care of. And we have territories to run."

Yes, they had. And yes, Nick would, too.

"Thank you, Mireille," he said softly.

There was a moment of silence, then she answered, "You are very welcome, little brother. Very, very welcome. You know I love your Grimm almost as much as you do. Take care of him."

He smiled. "I will."

Mireille didn't have to tell him. Nick was his mate and so much more. Sean regretted what he had had to do, but his Grimm understood and they had come out so much stronger.

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Things returned to normal with his allied front of wesen. The community was settling down since the regnant was back. While the eisbiber lodge continued to send food, Nick could finally convince the neighborhood watch to stand down. Gary, now a new father and more fierce in his protection of his little family than Nick had ever seen him, agreed, but only because his baby kept him up at night and he was too tired to argue. Bruce had simply shrugged, but Nick still saw him now and then. Bud had promised to stop the gifts, but not until Phoebe had filled Nick's fridge nothing short of overflowing. She had then redirected her mothering efforts; baby Penelope now had a quilted baby blanket and wouldn't run out of knit jackets, socks and hats.

Monroe and Rosalee accepted some of the surplus food. The blutbad commented on the wonderful taste of the vegetable lasagna and Nick was happy to hand him two more containers of it. Two very big containers.

Phoebe was a very well-meaning cook indeed. And a very good one.

Sean watched it with silent amusement and a lot of still-possessive vibes. He had made the house his home and Nick felt it more than ever. He didn't mind, though. It felt good. It felt actually close to perfect.

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He hadn't brought up his encounter with the nachträuber in any of their talks, but Nick knew he had to.

She had left quite an impression on the Grimm, who had thought that such terrifying surprises were a thing of the past. Apparently not.

He wondered if his mother had ever met a nachträuber.

"I met Diana."

Renard looked up from the study of his cell phone. Whatever he had been reading there had held his interest for a while. Now he regarded Nick with that stead, impenetrable mask that worked on subordinates and superiors alike, but not on a Grimm with a psychic link.

"Who is she? Really, not on paper."

"On paper?"

Nick didn't waver in his confrontation, holding the green eyes firmly. "I ran a background check. No priors, not even a parking ticket, just an upstanding citizen who even pays taxes on time."

Renard's lips twitched in a humorless smile. "Had you expected anything less?"

"Not really. So, Diana Merdez?"

"You saw what she is." It wasn't even a question.

"She quite voluntarily showed me."

Sean's eyebrows rose a little.

"I had to dig deep into the books and still there are too many names and descriptions, and nothing seems to stick."

"That's correct."

Nick refused to be baited, to lose his temper. He just stared back; hard. He refused to be pushed aside. Sean had led him to Diana for a reason. She was part of his territory, a strong and vicious wesen, and he used her as his weapon, she had said.

Finally the Guardian slipped the cell into his pocket and leaned back, giving his mate a neutral look.

"What is she to Grimms?" he wanted to know.

"A mysterious wesen no one could pin down or make sense of," Nick told him readily. "Bird-like, powerful, serving a master and sworn to his side for life, unable to betray him."

Renard nodded.

"I found so many names for her kind and most recently nachträuber."

Another nod. "One of many, true."

"And her real name?"

"Lost. I'm not sure they ever had one. Nachträuber is the most common now."

"What is she?"

"A predator, Nick. A strong and ice cold predator. Superior to many others."

Even you? Nick thought, directing the question quite openly at his mate.

Sean smiled. Maybe even him, yes.

"But as with everything, there is a flaw, a drawback," he went on. "There is no perfect predator or perfect prey."

"So what's hers?"

"Her instincts. Diana is a formidable weapon for any to wield and nachträuber rarely act on their own. They exist within society and never have the urge to maim or kill just for fun. When threatened they terrify their opponent into flight, and only if that doesn't work will they resort to violence."

Nick frowned. That sounded almost too good to be true. Renard saw the doubt and gave him a tiny smile.

"The reason as to why they try to avoid killing is easy: the blood rush. Their instincts are incredibly strong and if they lose themselves in their lust for blood, they won't stop. They need someone to stop them and that never goes too well. Even their own kind is prone to die when one of them goes into such a rare."

"So they choose a bond to a master?"

A shrug. "Some do. Others just stay away from humanity."

"You control her?"

"Diana and her kind are living on an edge that would have toppled others, and they know it. When I use her skills to protect my territory I have to be careful. She will kill, she will use that moment to satisfy her carnal desires, and she will follow my orders to their full extent. She won't kill anyone but the target, unless she is threatened. Then all bets are off. She walks that line ever since birth. Is it control? I'm not so sure."

Nick digested that. He had seen her true nature and he had felt the hunger the wesen emitted, her restraint, her control, her incredible power over her own desires.

"You sent me to her," he finally stated.

"I left you the name of the club," Renard corrected him.

Nick shot him a dark look. "That's just as good. And it wasn't just to keep me busy to stop me from coming after you, right? You wanted me to meet her."

"You would have come across Diana sooner or later. I also wanted her to meet you, Nick. You are my mate. You're my right hand, my Grimm."

"Your weapon," Nick said softly.

Sean rose fluidly, closing the distance. "You're not a weapon, Nick. You're an asset. You're mine."

The last was almost a growl.

"She offered her services to me," the Grimm replied, a small smile in his eyes.

Renard chuckled. "That she would."

"So the reason you haven't sent her after reapers and the like is because she is prone to go out of control?"

A nod. "She is as dangerous as she is formidable, and a good blade needs to stay sharp, Nick. Feeding frenzy will dull her senses."

"She eats her victims?" Nick blinked.

"No. She is a bit of a vampire in that regard. She drinks part of their blood."

He grimaced. "So there's that fairy tale as well," he muttered.

"Hardly encouraged by nachträuber activity. Their physiology demands it. Raw meat and blood. Not a nice sight, but it comes in handy."

Nick shook his head and sighed.

"History has countless reports about nachträuber blood rage. Diana has chosen to live in a Protectorate, offering her services to me." Renard smiled, cool, calculating. "I accepted."

Nick regarded him silently for a very long time, head tilting a little, looking at his mate, studying, waiting, sensing along the link.

Finally he nodded. He had to accept it. There was no way around it.

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Nick had finally rearranged the contents of the fridge with everything he had been given. Most of it had gone into the freezer. When Mireille called, he was in the middle of trying to free his backyard of dead leaves. He gladly abandoned his Saturday afternoon chore and sat down on the porch. It was an exceptionally warm day. The sun was out, there was hardly any wind, and it was truly a golden October.

"Hey, Miri," he greeted his kind-of-but-not-quite-sister-in-law. "How are you?"

"Perfect, my dear. Thank you for asking." She laughed. "Of course I'm good, Nick. You wouldn't think such a little quarrel could put me down for long, right?"

Little quarrel? From what he had seen on Sean, the little quarrel had been more like a full blown fight to the death. Well, it had resulted in death. Royals had died.

"Andrew has been fussing over me for days now," Mireille added. "He should know I don't break easily."

"But you're enjoying it."

She laughed. "Yes, I certainly do. So how is Sean enjoying it?"

He grinned. "You're siblings. Guess."

That drew more laughter. "And how are you, my dear Grimm? Any more troubles?"

"None. At least none Grimm-related. Work is work."

"Ah, yes, a police officer never runs out of cases."

Their conversation drifted to cases, to Hank knowing about him being a Grimm, about wesen, about the true nature of Sean Renard – though he didn't really understand the full implications, Nick was sure of it.

It was good to talk to Mireille, to hear her voice. It lifted his worries a little. Sean hadn't talked about his sister at all. Nick hadn't inquired into Maurice's state of health either.

"You do understand why all this happened, don't you?" she suddenly asked.

Nick, sitting on the steps leading from his porch to the garden, sipped at a bottle of water.

"Yeah. Slowly. It only enhances my complete disdain of political machinations."

"This is far more than politics, Nick. This was a personal attack on Sean and myself and even Maurice. You know how strong the territorial instinct of a regnant is. You know how far we would go to protect what is ours, our mates included. They made us choose and we chose. Leaving Portland was never an option and for Sean to make it look like he had, he had to overcome a deeply ingrained instinct that's with us from the moment of our birth. You understand that we do not, ever, leave a Protectorate and simply settle down somewhere else, right?"

"I figured that out," he said quietly.

"We also don't leave our mates unprotected. It tore me apart to play this game with Andrew. Maurice is probably not leaving Nadine and his children out of his sight for a while. And Sean? You have first-hand proof of what this did to him. We made sacrifices and we won."

"How long will it last?"

"Long enough."

So not forever, he thought. Well, in a way he had known what he would get into with Renard, even if he had never known what being a Grimm meant. No longer a rookie but still learning.

It would be forever, he realized. Always and always learning.

They changed topics yet again, Mireille telling him about her city, about Andrew, even about Maurice, who had apparently been a bit more rattled by the whole affair than he would like to confess. It wouldn't result in a display of sibling love. He was simply a bit more… human, as she put it.

Nick doubted it. "I hope that doesn't mean he's going to appear in Portland again."

She laughed. "Oh no. Sean would tear him into tiny little pieces. And he won't leave Santiago and his family any time soon. Maurice has his hands full. Like myself and Sean he never believed he was a direct threat to the Families. We were proven wrong. His early warning network is getting a work-over, as will his defenses. Santiago is becoming a fortress that will soon rival Portland and London."

Nick had never noticed Portland being a fortress, but that was from a regnant's point of view now. Sean might just gather more forces to keep his Protectorate save.

"And your family in Europe?" he wanted to know.

"On alert. As are many more regnants not even remotely related to the Renard line. What the Royals did was piss off a very powerful group of wesen and their allies and friends. Their plan to get rid of you and maybe even us backfired tremendously. It might just cut off a few more heads."

Mireille sounded darkly satisfied. Nick couldn't fault her. Deep inside he felt the same.

"If they know what's good for them," the Sean's sister went on, "they'll step back and let their bumble blow over."

Bumble? Nick would have called it a declaration of war. In regnant terms it might just be that.

"We're not a warrior race, Nick," she added as if she had heard his thoughts. "We are protectors, guards. We choose to defend, not attack. We will strike back and we will kill mercilessly, but to make this into more than it was – a political skirmish – might blow this completely out of proportion. Wars started like that in the past, with one faction going against another. So far my kind has kept themselves out of things like that, but this time we had to act."

"Because of me."

"Because they made it about us, my dear. If they had stuck to their age-old rut of trying to kill Grimms, Sean would have had all the fun himself. And believe me when I tell you, he would have the same amount of blood on his hands today, too."

"I believe you," Nick murmured.

"He might be a bit volatile for the next few days," she told him. "I know I am. And Maurice isn't any better."

"Noticed that already."

"It'll past. We might not be first strike warriors, but spilled blood touches something dark in any regnant." She sounded almost sinister and pleased. "Wear him out, Nick. It helps."

He laughed out loud. "Any more and I'm not going to walk straight any more."

"You haven't in a while," she purred.

And they were back to the teasing sexual innuendo.

When Mireille said good-bye, two hours had passed and the yard looked no better than before. Nick slid the cell back into his pocket and grabbed the rake.

Time to get serious about it.

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Renard's return to the central precinct was greeted with nods and smiles and the occasional inquiry as to how his family was. Everyone seemed to be glad that their captain was back and routine settled in again. Gervais hadn't been a bad temp, but as with every precinct a change in command was always accompanied by wariness concerning the new commander and the lack of ambition to adjust to a new personality at the head of their family.

Since this hadn't been a permanent change, matters were easily falling back into place.

There was no trace of his injuries left. Two more days at home had taken care of that. The bruises had faded away, the cuts had healed, and his fingers were good as new. Wearing a dark suit and a crisp white business shirt, the pale blue tie shiny and new, it was like Renard had donned his old armor and was ready for battle.

Nick watched it all, smiling a little as he followed his mate's walk through the men and women of the precinct, exchanging a word here or there, until he was in his office.

Welcome back, he thought.

Green eyes looked at him through partially opened blinds, across a room filled with detectives and uniforms, and no one knew.

Renard's smile was private, the gentle tug at the bond simply an acknowledgement.

"Back to normal, hm?" Hank drew him out of his thoughts.

Nick gave him a grin. "As good as normal."

"You got an explanation where he went off to?"

He nodded.

Hank waited, a curious expression in his eyes. Nick shrugged.

"Business trip," he worded it carefully.

His partner understood. He pursed his lips, glancing at the office of their captain, then back to Nick.

"Trouble?"

"Not any more."

"Just the usual?"

Nick grinned more. "Just the usual."

A folder landed on Hank's desk and Wu gave them an expectant look. "Speaking of the usual, here's your usual murder-suicide-suspicious-circumstance-case. Have fun, boys."

Hank chuckled and grabbed the pale yellow folder, looking through it. He grimaced.

"Fun?" Nick queried, knowing the answer.

"Oh, yeah. Tons. Suicide that got booted to us because of some suspicious findings. Well, vacation's over. Let's go."

Nick rose and grabbed his jacket, following his partner.

Business as usual.