Chapter 9

Something was wrong. Well, not wrong, just weird.

Better, something was off.

There was a noise, barely audible but persistent, that was working double effort to pull her away from her much needed sleep. Wrapped up in a warm cocoon, she didn't want to wake just yet. She felt it was too early, her biological alarm clock wasn't even close to her usual wake up hour, and yet that noise wanted her to wake the hell up.

Then her pillow moved, shifting beneath her head.

She opened her eyes and, confused, looked around. The dim lights coming from the windows were more than enough for her to realize that she wasn't in her bedroom. She looked up and saw the snoring writer sprawled beside her on the luxurious couch. That made her realize she had fallen asleep in Castle's living room. And she had been using his thigh as a pillow. Drooling over his jeans. Gross...

Maybe it was the drowsiness, or she had just lost her mind but the whole situation they were in amused her. She rubbed her eyes as she sat up straight, smiling briefly. The evening had been extremely pleasant, they had talked for a long time, discovered that they had a lot in common and surprisingly, she had found out that there was more than the class clown in Richard Castle.

Her mind went back to the moment, not even twelve hours before, when she had found herself wondering if she had started considering him a friend. Falling asleep on him, on his couch, after dinner with his family and a movie definitely meant she considered him a friend, she couldn't deny it anymore.

That weird feeling of kinship that had bugged her for weeks now had a reason to exist. It was almost an instinctual bond that had started forming the moment he had put his jacket over her head to protect her eyes from the sun, right after they had arrested Tisdale. His non-reaction to her condition had a reason to be, after all.

As did the sudden need she had to protect his privacy once she had realized he didn't want people know about the lycanthropy. By the way he talked about it and from what she had gathered from Martha, it was more than obvious that he wasn't fond of his own genetic anomaly. And by the way he had snapped interrupting her when she had asked about Alexis knowing about it, he actually hated it.

He hadn't changed in more than a decade before yesterday and he had clearly become extremely skilled at hiding his own condition. That was a hell of a positive streak, in her opinion. He had broken it to help her come out of a stalled situation that could have been resolved in thousands other ways. Or by simply waiting for a patrol to arrive, gunshots usually led people to call 911 pretty quickly. For that, she would be forever grateful.

Taking a deep breath, she turned towards him and took a good look at his sleeping form. He had nothing in common with the man that had taken a troubled nap in the break room, he was relaxed, peaceful. One arm was hanging on the back of the couch, the other rested in his lap. His head leant on the backrest, jaw slack and slightly open. He was snoring, not very loudly but enough that she could hear it. It was different from the sound she was used to hearing. Her father snored a lot, she remembered hearing him from her bedroom when she was younger and she had her fair share of boyfriends that snored too, but the sound was nothing like Castle's low, vibrating rumble.

She wondered if Meredith's nickname for him, kitten, came from those sounds. He sounded like a cat happily purring in his sleep.

Then the image of the huge, frightening creature he could become washed away all pretty, replaced by the weird thoughts about cuddly cats.

She wasn't scared by it, not at all.

She knew very well that werewolves were not dangerous per se, just like any other human being. He was the only lycanthrope she knew, but her mother had insisted she knew about both genetic anomalies, not only vampirism. Werewolves were not inheritably dangerous, like some people believed. They weren't domesticated beasts, like he had bitterly pointed out. They were human beings with a better chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse, as her mother used to say.

She was sure Castle would love that definition.

She attempted to move, to stand up without waking him, but she didn't even get to lean enough in order to grab her shoes when he joltsed on the couch, wide awake and disoriented. "What..."

"Relax Castle, we fell asleep on the couch," she murmured, her hand on his shoulder in the attempt to calm him. He was visibly confused.

He looked around, realized where they were then leaned back on the sofa. "What time is it?"

"Almost four in the morning. I'm going to go."

Scratching the stubble beneath his chin, he groaned. "You can crash here if you want. The guest room is ready if you prefer to stay."

She shook her head. "Thank you Castle but I don't want to overstay my invitation. And you should sleep in your bed, you know," she replied.

Standing up, Beckett folded the quilt and carefully put it on the armrest, then she slipped on her shoes. Castle never took his eyes off her.

"Next time then," he murmured. "Listen... About what happened yesterday, do you mind keeping it for yourself?"

She shrugged. "What happened yesterday?"

He smiled, that dopey smile that made her stomach churn, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"You'll come forward with the others when you want, if you want. Don't worry about it." She moved towards the door but turned around when an idea came up from the back of her still sleepy mind. "Just, next time you pick up something… a trace or anything, tell me. Don't come up with lame excuses like you did with Chloe, OK?"

"You knew then!?"

"No, I didn't," she explained. "I just thought some things you said were weird for a human being. I convinced myself you had a finer sense of smell than a normal human. Let's just say I had suspicions that there was something else about you. With that said, it's bedtime for both of us. I'll call you if we have a body."

With that said, she finally went hom. At that late hour, the traffic wasn't an issue and she arrived home really fast. It took her more time to find a parking slot than the real trip from the loft. Once inside the safety of her apartment, she felt the weariness of the day hit her in the back of her head, like an invisible baseball bat had been swung right at her. She went straight to her bedroom, slipped into something more comfortable and sneaked beneath the covers. She was quite sure she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Much to her dismay, when she woke up late that morning, groggy and in great need of her wake up dose of caffeine and her daily iron supplements, she realized she had slept better on Castle's couch than her own bed.

That was fucked up on so many levels she couldn't even count them. Girl's night out with Lanie was urgently needed.

They didn't have the time to go out. A case dropped later that night, and it was a gruesome one.

The same moment she parked her cruiser near the building where the murder had been committed, Beckett had a sense of deja vu that brought her back to another case from three months back, maybe four. Home invasion and aggravated assault. They hadn't worked on it because it wasn't homicide, but rumors traveled in the force and she had the feeling these guys were on a steep path of escalating violence. They had been a step away from killing someone already after all.

This time though, they went completely overboard with violence and rage. She was still in the hallway, just out of the elevator, when she picked up the extremely intense smell of blood coming from the open door. She instantly regretted calling Castle, as soon as she had been summoned to the crime scene; all that blood was making her sick, and she had a disease that compelled those who suffered from it to look for fresh blood sources.

Castle wasn't used to it and had admitted he wasn't a fan.

Before she entered, she sent him a quick text to warn him, then followed LT's directions to find the crime scene. Not that she needed much help though, she just needed to follow the blood and Ryan's loud, convulsed sneezing. And knowing about the only thing that could have him sneezing that way; goose feathers, she wasn't surprised when she found Lanie taking notes surrounded by white and crimson-stained plumage.

What she wasn't prepared for was the open wall safe and the body shoved inside it.

"What the fuck?"

Castle had arrived. He was right behind her. And he looked just as shocked and uncomfortable as she did. He had probably missed the warning text, judging by how pale he was. With a nice shade of green too.

"Right choice of words, Castle," said Lanie. "These guys are getting worse and worse each time."

He covered his nose and mouth with his hand. "You know who did this?"

"Not yet," added Beckett. "We're pretty sure they are a gang of thieves that started targeting rich people three months ago. They've already used violent methods, but this is the first time they have killed someone."

"By the way they escalated, it's a wonder that this is only the first victim that landed on my table. I really hope there won't be a second one."

Castle nodded. "I agree with that." His voice was strained and whiny, he was trying to hold on to his self-control to refrain himself from throwing up or change, Beckett could read it on his face and body language.

"What can you tell us?" she asked Lanie.

"Not much except she was shot. Large caliber, maybe a .45, considering how big the exit wound is. They also broke many of her bones, post-mortem I hope." She then walked closer to the wall and took the woman's hand. "They used a bolt cutter for this."

Beckett shook her head, disgusted at the sight of the cut off finger. "The wedding ring too… We've got to stop them. And we've got to stop them now."

They threw themselves into solving the case with little consideration for the rest of the world. The whole team, Captain Montgomery included, worked restlessly the whole night while waiting for forensics. Not that they were expecting much from the lab, the last few times they hadn't left much behind. They were organized, more than capable at their craft and extremely violent.

Castle could barely believe there was someone out there that thought killing a woman and stuffing her inside a wall safe was something they could do. In his books he had conjured even worse scenarios, but seeing it in real life? Totally different.

He was still rather queasy after the crime scene, he could feel his stomach churning and a couple of times he had to fight the urge to rush to the men's restroom to throw up. It took all his self-control and some dodging of the murder board to keep everything down.

During a small roundtable they decided to look into different leads, with Ryan and Esposito chasing down the thieves while he and Beckett worked on the victim, Sofia Delgado. Not that it led to much more than what they already knew, that thieves were looking for the jewels and only them. What they didn't find made them extremely on edge, most of all Beckett. The frustration of not having any lead except a well-known thief with a sewn mouth angered and hyped Beckett to the point that she disappeared after a while, so swiftly he didn't even notice she was gone.

"Ryan, have you seen Beckett?" he asked, coming out of the break room with a cup of coffee intended for her.

The detective looked around, puzzled. "No idea Castle. She was here a moment ago."

"She's downstairs, at the range," interjected Esposito. "This case hit her hard bro. She needed to relax for a moment."

At the shooting range? "Where is it?"

"Underground, go downstairs to the basement. Follow the noise."

Oh, he could follow the noise alright. He followed the directions and then the gunshot noise. He had hoped he'd never hear it again, so loud and just terribly disorienting as it was, but if he had to get her out of there, he would stand that damn noise.

He closed the door behind him and found her alone in one of the booths, emptying a mag on a target. And she looked pissed.

"Wouldn't it be more of a challenge if they were moving?"

Groaning, she dropped the gun on the table in front of her. "What the hell do you want Castle?"

He sighed. "Beckett, I know you're frustrated, but there are better ways to relieve it!"

She shook her head. "Like what?"

"I don't know, it depends... I use those stress balls and Internet porn, you have to find your own."

"Shooting works just fine, Castle. No need to worry about it."

Damn she was angry. Really angry. "Listen, I get it, you're pissed off, there's no need to ask a shrink to understand what is going on with you. This case reminds you of your mother."

She didn't answer him, she just loaded a new mag and unloaded it on the frame in front of her. He barely had the time to cover his ears with his hands to muffle the noise. He'd had enough of that damn sound for a lifetime.

The hole in the paper target's chest was huge. He didn't really want to be on the other side when she had a gun in her hand, it didn't matter if his healing abilities were more than enough to save him from... Seventeen nine-millilitre bullets.

Well, he wasn't really sure about that.

"Beckett, stop for a moment!"

"And do what? Castle, we're stuck! We don't have forensic evidence, the only guy that could know something is in holding but he won't talk. We're not going anywhere with this case and those bastards could strike again tonight for all we know!"

There was a hint of desperation in her voice that made him falter. Maybe she needed to be left alone to deal with the stress her way, but there was something in her that pulled him, he couldn't just leave her in that state, not after what she had done for him barely twenty-four hours ago.

She needed a laugh. And he was good at making her laugh.

"Can I try?" he asked, completely changing subject. Surprise was written all over her face.

She took off the earmuffs. "What? Shooting? Do you even know how to handle a gun?" she asked, loading another target and sending it to the far end of the range.

He shrugged. "In theory. I've written characters that handle guns, you know."

"Then you know that theory and practice are two different things." She grabbed a set of ear protection and glasses from a rack and handed it to him. "Show me."

Smiling like a kid in a toy store, he stepped beside her and took the gun in his hand. "You know how the safety works on a Glock?" she asked.

"The pin on the trigger, I know."

As the detective stood beside him, arms crossed and a skeptical grin on her face, Castle consciously assumed a wrong stance and pointed the gun to the stark new silhouette ten meters away.

The chuckle he heard told him he had succeeded, Beckett wasn't thinking about the case now.

"It's not a duel Scaramouche. Here..." She slipped behind him and adjusted his legs with her foot, then positioned his arms in a correct Weaver stance. "Hold your right fist in your left..."

He accidentally pulled the trigger when he felt her move close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body, even through the layers of clothing. That and the heavy scent of cherries from what he thought was her body wash made him tense his hold on the gun. The bullet went straight into the protective wall behind the target, on its left side.

"Oops. Shot too soon."

"Oh don't worry Castle. We could always just cuddle!" she replied, smiling up at him. There it was, his goal. Getting her to release some of the tension in a more constructive way than shooting holes in a target with her gun.

And hearing her joke at his incompetence at shooting was all he needed to hear.

After that, the impasse seemed forgotten. They went back to work, and Castle managed to persuade the thief they had in holding to reveal some information. He also managed to learn something from an old acquaintance, a retired thief, a legend in the field, that tipped them off to check on the charity organizations the victims of the break ins supported. The thieves were after jewels, what a better place to wear jewels than a charity event?

All the victims supported many charities, but the only one in common was the New York Metropolitan American Dance. One of their events had been held a couple of weeks before the first theft, the right window of time for them to prepare the jobs. Further investigation revealed there was another one planned for that night.

And the tickets were just a phone call away.

He didn't have much time. Beckett had reluctantly agreed to go undercover with him and she had assured him she had an appropriate dress, but if his spidey - right, wolfie - senses had given him the right feeling, she was lying.

And if he knew women as he thought he did, five hours were not enough time to go out and find one.

There started his quest to find the perfect dress for Detective Kate Beckett.

"Mother, Alexis!" he bellowed storming inside the loft a short while later. "I need your help!"

His daughter appeared on top of the stairs, while his mother was already in the living room, deeply engrossed in the script she was reading. Both were not impressed by his noisy entrance. "What for?" asked Martha.

"Beckett and I are going out tonight." His mother's eyes lit up, of course. "Not in that sense. It's an undercover job, we have to… nah, never mind. I need to find her a dress, I don't really think she has the right one. And I need your help."

Martha chuckled. "I guess you already know her size."

He vehemently nodded. "Yes, Mother, who do you think you're dealing with? So, are you coming with me or not?"

Alexis sighed. "Only because if we don't you'll end up buying a dress that would only embarrass her."

He tried to find an appropriate rebuttal but she was right, he couldn't argue with that.

It had been a while since he had bought a dress for a woman without said woman being present, therefore he let his mother and daughter choose the place. They dragged him in a small boutique that even from the outside struck him as one of those places where you could find exactly what you wanted when you wanted, if you had enough patience to delve deep into it. In his case, an evening gown worth of the honor to be worn by Kate Beckett.

Alexis and Martha were so focused on the task they looked more like a couple of bloodhounds unleashed on a trail, taking up his mission as if it was their own. He watched from behind the front line as they swiftly moved between the racks of dresses for every occasion as they examined different gowns here and there, judging them like only women could. Too posh, too dark, too much cleavage, too slutty… at that particular dress, his mother shook her head and commented, "Not even the first draft of Nikki Heat would wear this one."

The slutty draft, the one he had scrapped like five seconds after he had finished writing the character profile down. Only the name had remained, the rest had been deleted as fast as light, under Martha's careful supervision. And yes, that dress was too much even for that version of the character.

Alexis was already proposing to move to another store when Martha let out a loud "Ah!" and walked towards them with a gorgeous deep red gown in her arms. He heard Alexis gasp in awe before he himself found he couldn't form a coherent phrase to describe it. "Richard, this is the one. Don't even dare to talk, this is it."

And she was right. It was the right one. Later, waiting nervously at the front door while Martha opened it, he knew it for sure. That dress, that shawl, and that woman were a perfect combination, way, way better than any fantasy he ever had.

Sometimes reality beat imagination by a long shot.

Her mother had defined her as stunning and stunning she was, as she stood there, on the doorstep, all shy and insecure in a role she felt didn't fit her, while in reality she looked like a fashion model straight off the catwalk. Such a stark difference from the strong, confident woman he saw almost every day at the precinct.

She looked almost vulnerable while his mother placed one of her necklaces on her.

Still, stunning.

It took her a while to feel a little better in the role. The car drive was almost silence, except for some briefing on the mission, as he liked to call it. Esposito and Ryan would pass as plain clothes security and be ready to intervene in case they needed it, and they would infiltrate New York's high society and gather information on what was happening around them. They both hoped to make it quick and painless, maybe even catch the guy that night.

As soon as they made their grand entrance on the red carpet, they realized that they wanted it to end quickly not only because there were lives at stake, but also because the whole world of charity fundraising events creeped the hell out of them. Cute, sly girls wandered around, talking to everyone with a large enough wallet to hoard new funds for their causes, celebrities seeking the right catch to secure their well-being and economic stability even after fame would abandon them…

Beckett even got to know that Castle had been nicknamed theWhite Whale, after his divorce had been finalized. Apparently, he was one of those good catches in a sea of rich sharks.

All seasoned with a splash of hypocrisy, just a pinch of snobbiness, and a whole lot of wealth that smelled sour for all the lies that had been told to ensure those who held that wealth could reach stellar high bank accounts. After all, that's how you become rich, by lying. Castle created elaborate lies on paper in a fictional way. Others lied on the tax return. Some lied about the materials used to make what their industries produced and slowly poisoned their clients.

They both felt like fishes out of water as they met at the bar, after a round of exploration.

"I need a drink," he stated, leaning against the marble counter.

"Damn, me too. But I'm on duty so I'll stick to water."

"We can't get drunk, you know that?"

She chuckled. "I know but…"

"Come on Beckett, live a little!" he exclaimed, turning towards the barman. "What do you want? I paid a small fortune for the tickets, we might as well enjoy the night."

"Oh well… Vodka tonic."

Time slowly went by and nothing happened. Until the auction was announced. The auctioneer was none other than his mother, who appeared out of nowhere with Palmer, the legendary thief that had tipped them into checking this kind of social event. He was torn between being furious or just plainly annoyed, but the feeling turned into desperation as Martha announced that in addition to a first edition of his first novel, signed and certified, the highest bidder would also have the chance to go out to dinner with him.

Obviously, all the single women looking for a nice, rich bachelor dived in the opportunity to catch the White Whale. It sucked, because he hated things like that. And he knew his mother was doing this as retaliation for not having invited her to the event too. The passive aggressive ways his mother could come up with to mess up his life were amazing, worth being written in a book.

Oh, Martha was definitely going to be in Heat Wave, and she wasn't going to be pleased about it.

He was pleading Beckett to buyout the other bidders, telling her he would repay every cent she spent into saving him and he could tell she was about to agree, when he noticed someone in the background taking pictures with a mobile phone. And not of the people around him, but of the jewels the women sported.

"Beckett, look!" he pointed at the guy, one he had actually met earlier that night but couldn't remember his name. "He's taking pictures of the jewels!"

That was their breakthrough. They proceeded with the arrest and the interrogation and finally they had a name, a face and an address to find the head of the small organization that had committed those murders. They decided to move quickly and asked for the warrant right away. It came right before dawn.

The sky was barely lit and the sun still low on the horizon when they arrived at the address they had been given. Beckett, Esposito and Ryan wore their vests and prepared a plan of action. Without much back up, they needed to be quick and precise at striking with the right timing.

"Castle, you stay here," she ordered him as he got out of the car.

"What? No! Why?"

"You don't have your vest and this is going to be dangerous. You stay here, for your own safety."

"I don't really need it, you know…" he whispered.

"Yeah, I know, but they don't. So to keep up appearances if you want to come with us you need your vest," she replied, sternly.

Grunting, he nodded. "Alright, I'll stay in the car. But next time…"

"Next time you bring your technically unnecessary vest and you can come with us," she murmured so only he could hear her. "Come on guys, we've got an asshole to arrest." And they disappeared into the run down building.

One minute, maybe two after they had stormed inside, a man that looked exactly like the identikit they had been given dropped on the hood of Beckett's cruiser, scaring the hell out of him as he played cop at the driver's seat.

They looked at each other for a moment, before the running murderer dropped off the car and told him to get out. Determined to remain where Becket had ordered him to stay, he didn't open the door but he couldn't do much when the man grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pulled him out, pointing a gun at his face at the same time.

He was going to run away if he didn't stop him. He had to do something, fast, to hell with what Beckett had told him to or not to do.

Possibly without changing, this time. It had been almost three days already and he still hurt from time to time, no need to repeat the show for a broader audience.

Acting completely on instinct, Castle turned and pulled the guy away from the car, then he grabbed the hand holding the gun and crushed it with his superhuman strength. The man cried out in pain and let go of the gun, which fell on the concrete with a metallic clink.

Time to immobilize the bastard.

But he had underestimated him. The guy was strong, less than him of course, still strong. He slipped from his grasp and angrily punched him in the face, hitting his left eye. Had he been a normal human being, his face would have been reduced to a pulp now. Instead, it just hurt, but there were no broken bones. Maybe in the other's guy hand, but his ruggedly handsome face was intact.

That spurred him to act more quickly in order to stop him. He could hear Beckett's high-heeled steps coming down the fire escape stairs, not too far away, and he wanted to have him ready for her to arrest him.

Growling loudly, he pushed the guy away from him, against a wall. The force of the impact sucked the air out of his lungs and stunned him for a moment, but he had made the mistake of pushing him in the same direction the gun had landed.

In the split second he decided to jump and shove the gun away from him, Beckett arrived and kicked it away from him. "I don't think so."

She cuffed him quickly and led him to the car. "Hell of a fight Castle."

He nodded. "Thank you but… hit me."

The detective turned around, baffled. "What?"

"That man punched me and remembers it pretty well. I need to look like he punched me for real."

"What for? There was the stolen jewellery in the hideout, we have a witness that ID'ed him. You don't need to press charges for aggression," she explained.

"I don't want him to press charges against me for an excessive use of force though. I think I broke some ribs when I pushed him, I want to be able to claim self defence! Come on, left eye, all you need to do is to punch me. I won't hold a grudge, I swear."

"This is insane, you know?" She holstered her own gun then granted him his wish when he was not expecting it. A mean right hook straight into his cheekbone. Not at full force, sure, but enough to hurt him. Oh yes, it hurt.

He stepped back, holding the left side of his face. He felt the flesh swell beneath his fingers, pulsing in time with his heartbeat as the sharp pain raced through his skull. Nothing worse than the shift, of course, but it hurt. And would leave a mark for a while.

"Here, smile," she said, holding her phone up. "Let me take a picture so we can prove you were hurt."

Perfect, just perfect.

They left the hideout in the careful hands of Esposito and Ryan as CSU swept it for more evidence, while he and Beckett drove back to the precinct to press charges against that guy. Odd as it may sound, they didn't know his name yet.

Not that they cared much about it. All they cared about was the fact that they got him and that they could tell Joanne Delgado that they had caught the monster that had murdered her mother.

About an hour later, Montgomery came to Beckett's desk and insisted she went home. She tried to convince him that she wasn't tired and that she could at least start the paperwork, but the captain was adamant: he didn't want to see her at the precinct until the start of vampire safe zone that evening. It was an order and she had to obey him.

Not entirely happy with it, she gathered the box with the dress and Martha's necklace she had carefully wrapped in a piece of paper and placed it before they had performed the arrest in her desk drawer and went downstairs, intended on going home and returning it as soon as possible. The sun was high enough to hurt her eyes, but she didn't care much. Once she reached her car though, she decided to go straight at Castle's loft and take care of that right now. She just hoped she wouldn't intrude. After all, it was Saturday morning, maybe the Castle family liked to sleep in.

Apparently, they didn't. When Martha opened the door, they were gathered around the kitchen island, waiting for Castle as he prepared… pancakes, by the sweet smell that pervaded the air.

It made her realize she hadn't eaten anything in hours and that she was starving.

"Hey, Beckett, welcome!" he smiled. The bruise she had caused him was still dark and his cheekbone was pretty swollen, but it looked already better than before.

"Well, so much for vampires and werewolves not being at war with each other!" she exclaimed. Alexis stared at her, an inquiring look in her eyes, but Beckett caught Martha nodding to her granddaughter. The teenager smiled briefly then went back to her cereal bowl.

"I know right? Have a seat, pancakes are almost ready."

"Oh no Castle I'm not… I just came to give your mother her necklace I don't…"

He shook his head, waving the spatula in the air like a sceptre. "Nonsense, I heard your stomach growling while you were still in the elevator. Sit down and eat, it's an order."

Martha poured a cup of coffee and handed her sugar and creamer. "Come on dear, you have to tell us what happened!"

"Yeah, we only know Dad's side of the story," added Alexis.

Smiling, she did as ordered. Castle was right, Alexis and Martha were a diabolical team, when they wanted to be. She couldn't help but sit down, add some cream to her coffee and start talking.

And enjoy the delicious chocolate chip pancakes he served her a minute later.