Nick Burkhardt sat up on the couch because he found a simple act of breathing difficult when he was lying down on his back. His nasal passages and sinuses were so congested it was almost impossible to breathe through his nose anyway, but if he stayed in a supine position, his nose would start leaking though it was stuffed up.

He had been trying to convince Juliette and himself that all he had was a head cold, not the flu. He'd ignored her advice to get a flu shot and didn't want to hear her say, "I told you so."

To add insult to injury, he had woken up this morning with achy joints and fever. Even the back of his eyes ached.

Juliette often joked that men were such babies when it came to pain, and that Homo sapiens sapiens would have become extinct within a generation or two if they'd had to bear children. While it might be true, the pain and suffering this non-flu ailment was causing was ten times worse than that of a common cold. If someone asked him to rate it on the pain scale, zero being no pain and ten being the worst pain imaginable, he'd probably say eleven.

At the moment, he was just a pile of achy bones and muscles that hardly resembled a mild-mannered yet tough Portland Police Department detective who fought dangerous Wesen on the side.

He remembered receiving a couple of calls from Juliette, but he could recall only the first one clearly. The second time she had called, his meds had kicked in, and he had been barely coherent. He couldn't remember what he'd said to her let alone what she'd said to him. What really stuck out in his mind though was that she had sounded extremely excited, but why she had been so fired up eluded him.

While he was detachedly and disjointedly trying to reconstruct the parts of her second call, he heard someone at the door and a bunch of keys jingling as one of them was being inserted into the keyhole.

Juliette or Monroe?

As he wondered in the febrile fog, a dog barked at the door. Must be Juliette, he concluded. Now, come to think of it, did she call to tell me something about some dog…?

Before he was able to finish his thought, a small creature—presumably a dog—flew into the living room like a speeding bullet and landed on his lap. And it was trying to eat his face—by licking.

The strangest word popped into his head repeatedly: MASTER, MASTER, MAAASTERRRR!

"Jack!" Juliette yelled closing the door behind her.

"What the…"

As Nick began to speak while attempting in vain to fight the dog off, it stuck its muzzle deep into his mouth, and he felt its tongue twisting around his.

"Aaaaaarrrrggghhh!"

Disgusted and afraid to think where the dog's nose had been, he grabbed and peeled the canine off his body and hurled it onto the floor.

"Nick! What's wrong?" Alarmed, Juliette ran to him.

"That dog of yours French-kissed me! He'd better be up to date with his shots!"

Seeing her wide-eyed and staring at him, he broke off. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nick," said Juliette enunciating his name slowly. "How are you feeling?"

"Do you have any idea how disgusting it is to have your tongue interlocked with a dog's?"

She shook her head. "No, not that. What I mean is, how are you physically? You don't sound congested anymore."

A sudden realization hit him: he felt fine, hell, he felt great! Aches, pain, fever, congestion that he'd had only seconds before were completely gone.

Incredulous and bewildered, he and Juliette stared at each other for a moment then shifted their gazes to the dog on the floor.

He was on his rump, his head down, and he was dry heaving. Pain racked his entire body making him shudder. He gagged and retched again as his body was finally able to expel what was lodged in his throat.

Nick and Juliette watched him with morbid fascination for they knew this was no ordinary case of emesis.

The dog threw up some kind of greenish blob, but, instead of hitting the floor, it floated up above his head. Propelling sluggishly in the air, the blob turned paler and paler in color and eventually disintegrated into tiny, dust-size particles and disappeared.

Jack seemed to have recovered from whatever had temporarily ailed him and was back on his fours wagging his tail.

"What the hell just happened?" said Nick in disbelief. "And what kind of dog is he?"

Why, I'm a Jack Russell Terrier in a canis lupus familiaris form, said the voice in his head with a good dose of cheekiness. I'm also your Protector, Master. I'm here to ensure your wellness and keep you in supreme fighting condition.

"Are you talking to me?" He asked the dog as if it were a natural thing to do. Being a Grimm, he was highly receptive to supernatural occurrences.

Jack grinned showing his pink tongue. Now, I don't call this talking—my canine anatomical makeup has its limitations and is not suited for speech. But there are other ways to communicate. I am transmitting my thoughts directly into your head.

"I see," said Nick although he was still struggling to embrace this new concept. "So, you're on my side. You're not Wesen?"

NO, NO, NO, NO!

Jack was literally hopping mad.

"Hey, I get it—you don't have to yell!" Nick snapped wincing and covering his ears with his hands instinctively.

Censured by his Master, Jack stopped hopping like a rabbit and said sheepishly, My apologies, Master. It's not easy being a Jack Russell. Sometimes I can't help getting carried away. Dr. Silverton can attest that my breed tends to be excitable and hyperactive.

Juliette laughed. "It's true, Nick. His kind can make Energizer Bunny look docile and lame."

Nick nodded absentmindedly. "If you're not Wesen, what are you?"

As I said, I'm your Protector. I can cure your illnesses and injuries, how minor or grievous they are, and enable you to keep fighting hideous Creatures.

Nick and Juliette were astounded at this new piece of information. After a brief moment of stunned silence, she said haltingly, "Does that mean Nick is…"

No, I can't make him immortal. He's only a mortal with special powers. What I can offer him is good health and extended longevity, no more, no less.

"Can you do the same to Juliette?"

No, I'm sorry. Jack's head drooped a little. That's why our population was decimated so rapidly because those who saw my ancestors heal their Masters thought they were witches' familiars or their ticket to immortality. We've been hunted and persecuted for centuries by ignorant villagers and religious zealots.

He broke off pricking up his ears, and his head turned sharply towards the entrance. A second or two later, there was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it—it must be Monroe," said Juliette.

Being a partner of a police detective and Grimm, she cautiously opened the door just a few inches to see who was on the other side. She saw Monroe's tall, somewhat slouching figure standing on the welcome mat. He was wearing oven mitts holding a cocotte.

Offering him an inviting smile, she opened the door wide to let him in. "Hi, Monroe. Thanks for…"

What happened next took only a fraction of a second. As Monroe stepped inside, Jack's hackles went up. Emitting a horrifying growl, he charged ahead morphing into a creature Nick had never seen before.

Jack's head retained its size, but his bared teeth were now disproportionately big, much bigger and sharper than before the transformation. His white body turned tawny like a lion's, and his spindly legs were replaced with powerful and massive ones with retractable claws. His tail was no longer stubby but long and scaly with spiny protrusions along the topside and at the end.

There was nothing Nick could do to stop him but cry out, "No!" Juliette had no time to react or scream.

Monroe saw the creature hurtling toward him at the last moment when Juliette stepped aside to let him in. He instinctively shoved the cocotte into Jack's gaping mouth to protect himself from the fearsome teeth.

As they tumbled on the floor with a thud, Monroe grabbed Jack's forelegs and threw him overhead. Before he was back on his feet, he had turned into his Wesen form. His red eyes gleaming, he roared.

Jack back-flipped once in the air landing on his fours like a cat. He spat out one of the oven mitts and bits and pieces of the stoneware his powerful jaws had crushed. The chicken-less chicken soup dribbled from both sides of his mouth. He flattened his body to make another attempt to attack Monroe.

"No, Jack!" Nick yelled again. "As your master, I command you to halt!"

Both Monroe and Jack stared at him in disbelief.

"His master?" said Monroe, turning back to his usual human form.

But, but… He's a…

"Blutbad, yes, I know, but he's renounced his old ways and assimilated into our culture. Besides, he's been helping me to deal with other Wesen that are wreaking havoc in the community."

A good Blutbad is a dead Blutbad, opined Jack pouting. He was not quite sold on the idea that a Blutbad could be reformed, but he begrudgingly changed back to his old self.

Monroe snorted. "Speaking of the dead, I thought your kind had died out long ago.

"His kind? What exactly is that?" asked Nick.

"We call them Greuel."

"Greuel? What's that mean?" said Juliette.

Can you imagine Wesen calling us abomination? Jack sneered. It's like a serial killer calling an executioner cruel.

Nick said to Monroe, "Jack says his ancestors were misunderstood and persecuted. Does that mean there used to be a lot of Gre…I mean, Grimm's Protectors?"

Monroe nodded emphatically. "Yeah, these critters were dime a dozen when I was a pup. As a matter of fact, some Grimms had two or three at a time and kept breeding them. My parents used to warn us kids not to wander off too far so Greuels wouldn't pick up our scent and lead their Grimm to our dwelling."

He turned his wary eye to Jack. "You're kinda tiny for a Greuel, aren't you? There's nothing wrong with that though."

Jack was incensed by the remark. My parents were full-blooded Jack Russell Terriers and carriers of a Protector gene. I can't do anything about my being a purebred JRT, or a humble servant of my master.

"Are you saying that a Protector gene is recessive? You need to inherit it from both parents to become a Protector?" asked Juliette, fascinated by Jack's background.

Precisely! Jack sounded pleased and somewhat mollified. That's another reason why our population precipitously declined combined with the unjustifiable witch-hunt.

"Oh, great! We're getting a lesson in genetics from a dog," muttered Monroe.

"Says a vegan, timepiece-making, cello-playing Blutbad," said Nick with a grin.

Out of three pups in a litter, I was the only one with the Gift. My sister was a carrier just like our folks, and my brother was a plain dog, not a drop of Protector blood in him. It was tough and confusing to say the least not knowing my real identity while growing up.

"So how did you learn that you're a Protector?" said Juliette.

After my parents, siblings and their human caretakers died, I was alone wandering from hamlet to hamlet. Then one day, I met Otto and his Master.

"What breed was Otto?" Monroe asked him out of mild curiosity.

He was an ancient wolfhound. Actually, he was part wolf, but gentle and wise. I was still in my twenties, a real insufferable, unruly pup back then, but he somehow found enough patience to become my mentor and taught me what it takes to be a Protector.

"If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?" asked Nick.

I was born in the late eighteen hundreds, 1891 to be exact, so that makes me a hair over a hundred and twenty. I'm still young though—when I first met Otto, he was over eight hundred years old. I spent the first decade or so of my life in a small, English village but later lived all over Europe, following my former Masters, and eventually, I moved to the United States.

Nick and Juliette tried to process this mind-boggling information.

"Are you transgenic or a chimera?" Being a veterinarian, she had so many questions she wanted to ask. "When you were in your Protector mode, you looked like part dog, part lion and part dragon or something."

I know what you're talking about, but I haven't had any DNA testing, so I can't answer your question. All I know is, the other animal traits in my altered state were passed down to me from my parents. Each Protector's unique in our canine forms as well as in our Protector mode. Otto in his altered state, for instance, had horns of a bull, teeth of a shark, legs of an elephant, and a tail of an alligator.

"Yikes!" Monroe knew he wouldn't have stood a chance to survive Jack's attack had he been a Greuel like Otto, instead of this twelve-, thirteen-pounder in front of him.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy, quoted Jack from Hamlet. Mother Nature is full of surprises. Some fishes and frogs are known to change their sexes under certain circumstances. Chameleons, octopi and squids can change their body colors. And cuttlefish can change not only the body colors instantaneously but the body shapes as well, and they've been doing that for millions of years. We're not the only shape-shifters on earth, is what I'm saying.

"Greuels are not only shape-shifters but plain shifty," said Monroe. "They're known to bend others to their will by planting an idea in their heads. They're real sneaky about that."

Juliette scrutinized Jack for a moment and said, "Did you do that to me at my clinic, Jack? Did you plant a suggestion that I must bring you here?"

I was desperate to find a new Master, and I did you no harm. He tried to look and sound remorseful.

"Wait a minute. If you can control someone's mind, why didn't your ancestors use that power to escape the witch-hunt?"

Good point, Master! Jack appeared beaming at Nick. But it doesn't work that way. It takes some doing to control someone's willpower. We can handle one or two at a time for sure, but when you're dealing with a whole bunch of angry villagers, it's totally a different story. I'm so lucky to have met Otto because a number of Protectors were killed before they knew their own identities and what special talent they possessed.

"How did you end up at Oregon Humane Society? Did you go there willingly hoping that you'd be adopted?" asked Juliette.

Not exactly. Jack seemed mortified. I'd been traveling with a seventeen-year-old runaway for the past nine months or so when we arrived here in the City of Roses. Transients often get an undue bad rap. It is true that some of them are substance abusers or have mental issues, but many of them are all right and very kind to their four-legged companions. As a matter of fact, the kid I was with took me to the charity event where local vets provided free veterinary care for the pets of the financially challenged.

"So why did OHS take you in? Did they find anything wrong with you?" said Nick.

Not at all. It's just that while I was waiting, I spotted a female dog in another line. She was in heat, but more importantly, she was a carrier. I could smell a Protector gene in her! I was so excited I started to, uh…

"You humped her!" Monroe started howling with laughter.

The drive to perpetuate your own species is force of nature. Besides, it's imperative for us to reproduce to ensure that a new generation will be able to do the same. Jack glared at the Blutbad.

"Then what happened?" Nick urged Jack to continue.

The owner of the dog was a big guy you don't want to mess with. He got angry and roughed me up knocking me out cold. Fortunately, there were several vets present, and they persuaded the kid to lodge me at OHS for a day or two for observation.

Just then there was another knock on the door. Everyone looked at each other and Jack.

"Nick, could you keep an eye on Jack?" said Juliette, who was standing closest to the door.

She opened it just a crack to see who was on the other side.

"Hi, Juliette. Monroe told me Nick's under the weather, so I brought…"

Bud Wurstner in his repairman's uniform abruptly broke off when he and the others clearly heard in their heads, Eisbiber!

"Augh!"

Bud peered into the living room over her shoulder and cried out turning into his furry alter ego as he spotted Jack.

Afraid that he might attract the neighbors' prying eyes, she quickly pulled him inside and closed the door while Nick kept his hand on the dog's collar.

"Why are you doing this to me, Nick? I thought you were my friend!" Bud squeaked, his whiskers quivering.

"Take it easy, man. He's not gonna hurt us," Monroe assured him.

"Then why are you bleeding?"

Bud pointed at Monroe's left hand.

"Oh, I didn't even notice it," said Monroe raising his hand for inspection. "It's just a little nick though."

Bud nervously looked around. "I, I, I… I can't take this right now. Maybe never. I gotta go."

He turned around and reached for the doorknob, but Juliette put her hand on his arm.

"Bud, you can't go out there looking like that."

"Oh, right…"

He changed back to his human form and gripped the doorknob, but he spun around to face the others again.

"Here, Nick. This is a care package from my wife. I hope you'll feel better soon..." He carefully placed a picnic basket loaded with baked goods then he ran out of the house screaming, "Yaaah!"

"Eisbibers—they're so flaky and yet so polite," Monroe shook his head stroking his beard.

I hate to be overcritical, but what kind of Grimm are you, Master? I've never met a Grimm that fraternized Wesen before.

"Times are a-changin', Jack. Like I said, Not all Wesen are dangerous, and Monroe here has been a tremendous help for me. Hell, he's more than that—he's been a lifesaver."

Still… Jack threw a disapproving glance at Monroe. I have so much to teach you.

"You talk like I decided to keep you here."

You are going to keep me, aren't you?

"Well, I'd like to, but what about the runaway kid? I'm a police detective—I have to go through a proper channel to adopt you if I want to make it official."

Hey, no problem there! All I have to do is give him a suggestion that I'm better off living with a vet and her detective partner.

When Jack looked up at her pleadingly, Juliette sighed and said, "I suppose I could send a request to OHS to formally adopt Jack."

YES!

Overwhelmed with joy, the dog zipped around the room at break-neck speed bouncing off the walls and furniture. At the end, he jumped into Nick's arms and gave him a lick on the face.

As Jack gazed intently into his eyes, Nick felt something click in the deep recesses of his mind.

You're not messing with my brains, are you? Nick asked without uttering a word.

No, Master. This is exactly the way it should be between us. And this is just the beginning of our new journey.

They regarded each other with boundless respect and affection and embraced their fate together.