Title: Vindictam de Tenebris Angelus

Summary: When the Reapers kidnap Nick, secrets are revealed and truths are learned. But will things between Nick and Renard be the same or will changes take place for the worse?

Spoilers: None really; set in an AU

Rating: PG-13; if there's a stronger rating needed later, I'll rate the chapter individually

Pairing: Nick/Renard

Characters: Nick B., S. Renard, and Reapers

Disclaimer: Grimm is not mine and thus neither are the characters. I am merely borrowing, torturing a bit, playing with, and then returning them.

Warnings: The first part of this fic does contain violence and blood but I hope it's not overly done.

Author's Note: First of all I'd like to thank ThorneofAcre (or ToA to some) for being my sounding board and my willing beta. This fic wouldn't make half as much sense without her.

Second: This is my first venture into the Grimm fandom so I hope that you al enjoy it. Reviews are always appreciated and welcomed.

Third: I borrowed the idea of Renard being a Regnant and what his creature form looked like from the fic, "This Isn't All That You Are" by Macx. If you haven't read it, you should; it's fantastic!

Fourth: The title is (translated by Google Translate) "The Vengeance of the Dark Angel".. just fyi.


Part I – Taunts and Torture

"It appears you did not take our warning seriously," the voice with the French accent cooed warningly. "The Grimm is still walking about freely."

Captain Sean Renard slowly blew out a heavy sigh through his nose, allowing his body to relax ever so slightly and his temper to abate. He had lost count how many times he had told these people that "the Grimm", as they insisted on calling him, wasn't a threat to either them or any of the Wesen of Portland. That he was under Sean's protection both as his mate and as a Grimm. The Reapers were apparently determined to have Nick dead, however, so no matter what he said, the words always fell on deaf ears.

"I have told you," Sean said, feeling the tension renew in his shoulders the longer he spoke, "the Grimm is under my protection. He isn't a danger to neither you nor those in my territory."

The voice on the other line scoffed nasally, something the French were very good at. "Do not think me a fool," it answered, the notes dropping an octave so as to further the threat within it. "He is a Grimm; a descendent of Marie Kessler. Therefore he is a menace and always will be."

Sean couldn't deny that Marie Kessler had been a threat; she had often killed without thought or remorse and had never cared who the creature truly was. All she had always seen was something other than her kind and determined that it needed to die.

But Nick wasn't like that. He looked deeper than most normal people often did and he tried to ascertain, without any shred of doubt that the Wesen was beyond help before he pulled the trigger. Even so, every life he took, out of necessity or not, shook the detective to his core each time. If it was possible, Nick was too kind for his own good!

"He is not like his aunt," the Captain defended tiredly. There wasn't a point to his saying anything; the Reapers would still say that Nick needed to be killed or controlled but still he continued to try and reason with them. "And he is mine."

The air in the office sparked with unseen electricity at Sean's words and he knew the Reaper on the phone had understood what he meant. The claim of a regnant wasn't to be taken lightly and the fact of the matter was that Sean, a regnant and King, had claimed Nick long ago.

Beneath Nick's collar bone, just below where his neck meets his shoulders, was the proof. Sean had hated making the claim so physical for it had caused his mate quite a bit of pain; but it needed to be done so that other Wesen would know exactly who Nick belonged to. Not that Nick hadn't made a mark of his own, mind you, but his mark was the never-leaving smell of the Grimm. It never registered with a human therefore no one at the precinct knew but every creature Sean had come across could smell it and a good many of them backed down with that alone; the rest that didn't, soon did when they realized who Sean was. There were, of course, the few who thought they could challenge Renard but they soon paid for their mistake with their life.

While Nick had qualms about killing in cold blood, Sean had no such reservations. To him, every challenge was to be answered, thus making the kill not in cold blood but rational. The regnant in him howled and slashed its claws in fury; it saw the threat against Nick as a challenge from the Reapers and it was perfectly ready to answer it.

"That may be," the voice granted in a way that chilled Sean's heart. He didn't know if the Reapers was responding to the first or second portion of his sentence but he didn't think he was going to like where this was heading. "At any rate it does not matter. I have arranged to have a private meeting with the Grimm." Green eyes flickered to burnt orange, heated by the fire of possession and rage at those words. Before he could so much as utter a syllable the voice continued, "He is on his way to me as we speak so I will be seeing him very shortly. I'll send him your regards."

And with that the line went dead, leaving Sean to glare so hard at the glass walls of his office that one could swear they were melting from the pure heat in his eyes. Yep, he didn't like where that had gone one bit, and the Reaper would pay!


When Nick woke up, he immediately wished he hadn't. His head hurt so badly he actually groaned in response. His body half obeyed his commands and his eyes shut shortly after opening. He knew from the headache alone that he wasn't at home; sure he often had headaches after a tough case but they were never this bad. This one felt like a migraine on steroids. Cautiously he opened his eyes again, slowly this time, allowing his vision to adjust in the darkness. He was actually thankful that it was so dark because he had a feeling that any light at all would bring sharp daggers of agony slicing through his head.

They had caught him off guard at home, waiting until he was upstairs before they'd appeared. Several of them had jumped out of the shadows, attacking as one. Nick barely had time to get one shot off, catching one of his many attackers in the shoulder, before they'd pounced and overtook him completely. He'd fallen down the stairs as their weight slammed into him. The second his body hit the floor, Nick had known no more.

Kidnapped. The word ran through his mind like a mouse on a wheel. He couldn't believe he'd been so oblivious to their presence. Had he really gotten that comfortable in his standing as a Grimm? Does he really count on his reputation to ward off intruders that much?

The questions and frustration caused his headache to flare even more and it wasn't until he tried to bring a hand to his aching head that he noticed his dismal circumstances.

Both of his hands were tied above him, his wrists secured together by metal cuffs and chains as thick as his arms. Nick wriggled a little, testing to see just how tightly he was bound but the cuffs never gave and he only managed to rub the joints raw. His torso was bare, leaving him to shiver freely as the cold air around him breezed against his flesh. Several bruises marred his chest and stomach but none were as prominent as the ones over his left side.

That's funny, he thought curiously as he stared down at the angry purples, blacks and greens, it doesn't hurt. He curled a little into himself to try and see more of the bruising but he stopped instantly as fire raced through his injured side.

Does it hurt now? A voice that sounded so much like Monroe's chimed in his head. You probably have a concussion, you idiot.

Yeah, I got that, Nick answered with a small huff.

Then you should know that they disorient the brain including pain responses. The 'duh' in Monroe's "voice" was clear and Nick rolled his eyes, silently telling the voice to shut up then continued his examination.

His legs, he was almost gleeful to find, weren't shackled and secured like his arms and wrists were; they hung freely, dragging down the rest of his body. It hurt beyond belief. The pressure it put on Nick's shoulders was tremendous, not to mention the way it strained is injured torso. How did the people in the fourteenth century handle this?

Settling in for a lot of pain, Nick tried to stretch his torso a little bit more. He hoped that he could get some sort of advantage over his captors; all he needed was to be able to touch the ground. No such luck. Amazingly he was well above ground level and the pain in his side came close to being unbearable the more he tried.

Figures, he mentally pouted. He hung his head back and gasped when said head came into contact with the cold, stone wall behind him. Gotta remember not to do that again.

Pain pulsed through his body, synching itself with his heartbeat as though they were one and the same. For the most part it was so widely felt that he was pretty sure that he was just being a wuss. Then his mind got bored and decided to focus on the parts that were especially crying out.

His head of course was the most prominent. Tying for second were his wrists, shoulders and side. The weight of his body pulling down on them all caused them to whine with pain; that whining was beginning to turn into a wail and it was getting harder to ignore. Other than those already known about, the only other part of him that was hurting over the rest was his right ankle. It wasn't as bad as his head, thank God, but it was enough to let him know that he'd more than likely sprained the joint.

Well, that's going to make it harder to escape, he thought glibly.

Harder but not impossible, the Grimm inside him reminded sternly.

The room he was housed in was perhaps a little bigger than his living room. It was made completely of stone – handsome stone actually – with what appeared to be pantry goods in one far corner. The tall ceiling of the room no doubt proved useful when it came to storing things since it allowed for all the heat to rise to the top, leaving the cool air to surround everything on the floor. Directly across from him was the door; it was made of strong dark wood which effectively blocked out all sound and light. To the right of the door was a lever of some sort, probably to his chains, and nothing more.

Nick looked to his left to see if he could see anything that would help him in his eventual escape and froze for a moment in fear and horror. Along the wall were dozens of medieval instruments used for torture. Most of them were still covered in blood.

Well that's a bit unsanitary, Monroe's voice chided in his head.

Again, Nick rolled his eyes at the voice. Are you kidding me? He responded exasperatedly. A wall full of torture weapons and all you're worried about is how sanitary it is?

Well excuse me for being worried about your health, Monroe's voice pouted.

At the moment I think I'm more worried about what they plan on doing with those instruments than how clean they are.

Then look around and figure out if you can get out of those chains. Geez! Do I have to do everything?

Realizing that that was a) what he was originally doing; and b) a good idea, Nick did just that.

Just as he was about to check the ceiling for something to try and grab onto, the door opened to the room, admitting three men. The light coming from the adjoining room was excruciating on Nick's head but he tried to hide the pain as much he could. He didn't know who had taken him but he knew they were an enemy of sorts and he wasn't about to show pain to the enemy.

The three men stood in front of him, wearing what looked like Monk's robes and sneers of cruelty. Their scythe's stood before them as though there were badges of honor to be proudly displayed. The two shorter but burlier men flanked the taller one, their sharp eyes glistening in the shadow of the light. Their facades slipped almost immediately and Nick could see them for what they were – Reapers.

Ugh! Not these guys again!

"Good morning Mr. Burkhardt, I trust you slept well," the foremost Reaper taunted with a cold sneer.

For a moment Nick was thrown by the French accent but he covered it with a smile, "I did, but the accommodations could use some work."

That little comment earned him a swift punch to the stomach with the handle of one of the burly guys' scythe. The head guy, Nick decided to call him Francois, came up to Nick and placed the spear-end of his scythe against the Grimm's vulnerable torso. He applied gentle pressure to the weapon as he slowly dragged it down Nick's chest and ended just above his left hip bone.

Nick knew that the pressure hadn't been necessary. The Reaper's scythe was always kept razor sharp; he doubted one of the Reapers themselves could touch the tip without being cut. Blood lazily oozed from the long scratch, almost tickling the unharmed portion of Nick's stomach as it flowed.

The pain, while sharp and stinging, wasn't as intense as Nick thought it should have been but he wasn't complaining. Either the pain sensors in that portion were dulled for one abnormal reason or another, or the Reaper hadn't cut as deeply as Nick knew he wanted to. Neither option meant anything good and his situation wasn't likely to get better anytime soon. He was glad that they had seemed to start out slowly; it might give him time to work out a plan.

"I apologize little Grimm if our "accommodations" are not to your liking but we do not want you too comfortable. You are here so that I may teach your regnant, your pretentious king, what happens when he does not listen to his masters."

Indignance swirled through Nick. Who the hell was this guy calling little? Sure, Nick may not be the next Arnold Schwarzenegger but he was in no way little! And who was he calling pretentious anyways? Can we say Pot, meet Kettle? Who was he talking about? What king? Nick didn't know any royalty; unless you counted the royal family of England but it's not like he knew them personally. And what in the hell was a regnant?

Nick almost desperately wanted to ask his captor to whom the man was referring, what a regnant was, and why this was all relevant to Nick's capture. However, asking all that would betray his confusion and he wasn't about to give the Reaper the pleasure of witnessing it. He'd search for his answers in Aunt Marie's trailer when he was free.

"Can I be in the room when you tell him that you're his masters? I'd really love to see how he'd take that." While Nick didn't know who the Reapers were talking about, the way they had described the man suggested that the creature wouldn't take too kindly to being told that he had masters. The ghost of a smile passed on his face when he pictured the three men currently beating him, standing in front of someone like Renard and telling him that they were his masters; it was really quite an amusing sight to imagine.

This time the blow was thirty times as vicious and it came from one of the accompanying Reaper's scythe. Burly guy number two, who Nick decided to name Dumber, swung at him with such speed, the act was over before Nick's mind had time to register that anything had happened. The pain was immediate and overwhelming; Nick cried out with it, unable to stop his voice from reacting. He didn't have to look down to know that there was an infinitely deeper slash across his torso, starting from his right hip bone to his left shoulder.

"Now, now, Phineas, we do not wish for Mr. Burkhardt to bleed out," Francois lightly scolded. Lazily, as though the act were an inconvenience, he pulled out a large towel from beneath his robes. "Be a good lad and wrap this around his chest, would you?"

The "bandage" was applied harshly and without thought to the pain they were causing their captive. Nick was thankful for the pretense of first aid but he highly doubted that would stem the flow.

Hard yellow eyes took in the blood seeping through the towel and an almost gleeful look came into them. "Well," Francois said with a sigh, "I guess that means that we cannot touch your torso." He paused contemplatively then said, "Let us lower him to the ground, shall we Ivan?"

Dumb walked over to a lever on the wall and yanked hard. Nick fell onto the unforgiving ground with a cry. At first the sound was in surprise but as soon as his injured ankle hit the floor, quickly followed by his damaged torso, it became a cry of pain. More blood soaked into the towel, both from the first, shallow cut as well as the latest, and the smell of it threatened to overturn his stomach.

Hands of silk grabbed his bruised and raw wrists, gently cradling them. Dumb and Dumber came to a stand behind him as Francois held onto Nick's hands, grabbing his shoulders and pinning him to the ground. One hand enveloped his right hand while the other played a merry tune with his fingers. Francois tsked at the sight of his wrists, "Your regnant will not like this one bit, will he?"

Nick was torn between asking what a regnant was and who the man was talking about, and crying; he really hadn't a clue which he'd prefer to do. What was once a grumbling ankle was now screaming bloody murder. His headache hadn't abated one bit and it felt like it was going to implode pretty soon. And his chest and stomach felt like a bonfire with just the smallest hint of acid thrown in. Bottom line, he hurt!

Instead of curling into a ball and sobbing, however, Nick managed to smirk at the man still playing with his fingers. "No, he won't."

Again, Nick had no idea who the Reaper was talking about but, again, it sounded as though the man wouldn't tolerate harm coming to someone he knew or cared about. Then again, who would? If someone had taken and harmed Sean, there wasn't a door Nick wouldn't tear down to find him; and when he did, those that harmed him wouldn't see the light of day for the rest of their lives.

Francois nodded then looked down at Nick's hand. When he looked back up there was a sadistic glint to his eyes that didn't bode well for the Grimm at all.

"Still, I do not think that a couple of cuts and some bruises are worth the wrath he will more than likely express, do you?"

Nick didn't answer, knowing that nothing he said would matter.

"Do you know what a regnant is Grimm?"

CRACK! Francois broke Nick's index finger with the amount of exertion it would take a person to break a pencil.

Nick cried out once again in agony. His body jerked in response to what was being done to one of its limbs but Francois' goons held him firmly to the ground.

The Reaper sneered at Nick's cry but continued on, "It is a fairytale creature, often mistaken for a dragon."

CRACK! The middle finger got broken. "Unlike dragons, however, regnants are very real."

CRACK! The ring finger broke. "It is a creature of royal descent; bred with loyalty, and enough self worth to believe itself indestructible."

POP! Nick's pinky finger broke with little restraint, sounding more like a popping knuckle than a breaking bone. By now Nick had given up on expressing pain; he could see that his captors enjoyed it far too much. Silent tears streamed out of his eyes though, splattering upon the stone floor with hollow plops.

"It is quite beautiful to behold actually," Francois continued as his hands moved to release Nick's wrist. "Its body is comprised of scales which are often mistaken for small flicks of armor." He idly played with the cuts and bruising on Nick's freed wrist, making sure to press harshly into the deepest cut as he went. "Their color, well his color, is a magnificent array of bronze, burnt gold and dark copper that often changes with the light or his mood. His eyes are a deep orange, pupil-less and cold. Like the dragons of old, he has an elongated mouth filled with sharp fang-like teeth that could rip a human to pieces with one bite. His hands are decorated with long claws, the likes of which are matched only by the nails on his feet. His tail is long and almost as strong as his entire body combined. Adorned on his back are leathery wings, very much so like a bat's but one hundred thousand times as long and that much more powerful."

Francois' hand moved so that his thumb ran idly over the back of Nick's right hand. He had yet to release the Grimm's other wrist, a fact which was making said Grimm nervous.

"Do you know why I am telling you all this Grimm?"

Nick's title was spat out of the Reaper's mouth with such hate one would have thought that Nick had personally killed every member of the man's family. He grabbed a hold of his scythe and Nick felt a stone of dread as cold as dry ice drop into his stomach. At a nod from the ringleader, the goons proceeded to pin Nick down ever harder onto the floor. Their added weight to his injuries was excruciating but he had a feeling that it was about to get much worse.

"So that you can identify the creature, and the person for what he truly is, when you see him; so that you may him back in kind for what he ordered done to your aunt." Francois answered with a smile on his lips. As he placed Nick's right arm onto the floor and pinned it there with the sheer force of a creature, the head Reaper began to change into its Wesen form. Soulless yellow eyes watched him gleefully as he poised the scythe in the air. A voice much deeper than before but with the same amount of elegance teased, "How else are you to recognize that your beloved Sean Renard is not who he says he is?"

And with that, the Reaper swung its weapon down and into Nick's hand.

Agony such as Nick had never felt before seared through his hand. It was simply indescribable and his mind didn't even try; all it could process was, "OW, OW, OW, HOLY FUCK, OW! Get it out! Get it out!"

The reptilian Reaper hissed in pleasure and dragged its tongue through the blood that was spilling freely out of the wound. It lapped up the blood like it was a dog thirsty for water then pulled the scythe back out, renewing the exquisite agony its captive was in that much more.

Another towel was produced and it was wrapped around the injured hand with just as much care as the first was. The goons let up on the pressure and Nick automatically curled into a fetal position, cradling his bleeding hand to his chest. His left arm was left flush against the floor and exposed but he didn't care about that; the only thing his body wanted to do was try and keep any further harm from coming to his right hand.

Francois remained kneeling on the floor, watching Nick with little compassion and more curiosity than a cat. Slowly, he moved to release Nick's left wrist from its confines.

Through the fog of agony, Nick's mind screamed at him that if ever there was a time to try and escape, it was now. Francois looked like he planned on breaking every bone in Nick's body while he waited and that was the last thing that Nick needed.

He waited, somewhat impatiently, for Francois to release his other wrist, all the while drawing up the strength of the Grimm from inside him. With as much strength and adrenaline as he could muster, Nick grabbed Francois' right wrist and twisted cruelly. The joint broke under the strain and the leader howled in pain.

Just like that, the fight was on.


Sean sat in his office chair, glaring at the objects within the space as if they themselves had offended him. He couldn't believe the audacity of the Reapers! Not only had they taken Nick and were currently doing Lord only knows what to him but they had actually told him they'd done it. The idea would have been laughable if the threat hadn't been so real.

The regnant inside him raged and thrashed eagerly, wanting to get out and dole out vengeance. Green eyes burned brightly with reddish orange. Normally, Sean didn't have a problem keeping his composure from slipping. The creature within him often wanted out, especially when it came to dangerous situations involving his Grimm, but Renard often kept it in check. This time, however, Sean felt his composure slip and he had no desire to rein it in.

Before another thought could register in his mind, the Captain was out of his chair and speedily charging through the bullpen. With every passing second, Sean could feel his mask slip and he didn't need to be in the middle of a police station when it happened entirely.

It bothered him that a threat on one person could have him lose complete control. Regnants were powerful creatures, bred with self-restraint, regality and loyalty. They didn't react this way to threats.

When a threat to one of their protectorates comes along, Sean's general reaction was to gauge the situation and call upon Adalind and her sisters to sniff out the trouble. If the need arose he would make an appearance to sort things out. Sometimes the threat would die then and there but other times the creature wasn't smart enough to realize exactly who Sean was and challenged him.

Very rarely did the creature itself come out; usually there wasn't a need. This time, however, the need was there and screaming at him to hurry.

He made sure he was in a private spot in the forest before he parked his vehicle and stripped; there was no need to ruin a perfectly good suit after all.

Moonlight glistened beautifully on his skin, shining on it like a lamp on an empty canvass. The surrounding trees played to the tune of nature as the early October breeze blew through them, their shadows bouncing around on his bare chest like wood sprites. Sean smiled at the sound, feeling almost at peace. Except the one part of his life that completed him had been taken, threatened and, more than likely, hurt.

Leathery black wings exploded violently from his back, expanding to a mile long combined. With the exception of the wings, which reacted first and foremost to the threat against Nick, Sean was still in human form. The long appendages partially surrounded his shoulders, the rest of them lying flatly on the ground. Standing in the moonlight the way he was, Sean looked more like a dark angel than the king and regnant that he was.

It didn't take long for his form to change completely, the creature more than ready to come out and "play". Sean stuck his nose in the air and inhaled deeply. He hoped to catch the smallest whiff of Nick's scent but the only thing he could smell were Reapers.

Pupil-less eyes narrowed. If that's the way they want it, then that's the way they're going to get it.

Sean took flight instantly and headed in the direction of the strongest scent. The Reapers believed that he needed to be taught a lesson, did they? Well, they were just about to learn what Captain Sean Renard of the Police Department, King and Regnant, and Protector of Portland was capable of; and it was going to be messy.

TBC


So, what did ya think? Like it? Hate it? It's okay? Let me know!