Author's Note: Thank you guys again for the support! There shall be a few little one-shots in the 'verse going up for Barricade Day (Combeferre-Enjolras backstory and a bit of Courfeyrac backstory). I'm also still accepting prompts for Barricade Day from anyone who's interested. Hope everyone enjoys the story! Warning for blood and violence in this chapter—this is when this section earns its PG-13 rating.

Part Four: Trespass

Marius heads toward the human church with a combination of joy and nervousness welling inside him. He'll get to see Cosette again, and that's enough to bring him to the brink of ecstasy; he's going to have to play at being human again, though, and there's more than enough reason there for trepidation. At least the moon isn't playing havoc with him right now, the energy of his people fading with the waning of the silver light in the sky each night.

He barely hesitates when he crosses from Enjolras' land onto Bellamy's, mingling with the throngs of church-goers, his scent diluted and hidden by theirs. There had been near-panic, the first time he did this, a certainty that he was going to be caught, but a month's worth of expeditions has dulled the wariness. If Bellamy's pack was going to notice, if they were going to do something, surely they would have done so by now.

Marius moves with the crowd around him, at a steady pace just slightly slower than his own natural ground-eating trot. He could walk like this for days and not tire. It's a fascinating thing, walking among the humans. Their clothing is so diverse, their scents so strong, their voices so varied. He keeps his back straight, his head up but not raised in defiance, a neutral position. It's a natural position for him to take, anyway, proper for someone of his rank, and Cosette had said that it made him look dashing, a combination of mysterious and romantic.

He smiles, thinking of Cosette. He should have a few minutes to speak with her before church starts, while her father either kneels in prayer or listens to pleas for assistance from some of the other humans in the church.

It's hard for Marius to understand the old human. He is like an alpha, respected, charismatic, trusted in times of trouble, but his pack seems not to know him well. No one that Marius has spoken to can tell him anything about the old man, other than that he is Cosette's father and has been coming to the church for several years. The human alpha's pack also seems huge, humans from all over the city coming to ask his assistance.

Strange.

Humans are strange, but it's a fascinating, endearing kind of strangeness, and Marius is eager to find a way to fit into it.

He doesn't smell Bellamy's wolf until the male is almost on top of him, the same overwhelming scents that he had thought were shielding him hiding the other wolf from his nose. When he does scent the male, Marius loses a few precious seconds trying to decide between running and standing his ground—and, if he runs, where and how fast.

The male—Sean, that was his name, and Marius can feel phantom pains in his face and chest as he remembers the last time he met this wolf—closes to within two strides of him before Marius increases his speed. He doesn't run. He weaves between the humans, trying to find gaps that will close behind him, trying to slow Bellamy's wolf and increase the distance between them without actually breaking and making himself prey to be chased down.

How did this happen? Where did he make a mistake?

What's going to happen because of it?

He can't take the time to worry about that now. His immediate task, his immediate concern, is to escape. If can get away from Sean—if he can find a way to Cosette—

The second of Bellamy's wolves comes at him from the front and the right, and Marius reacts faster this time, swerving left, towards the edge of the crowded street.

He realizes too late that he's being driven, herded, edged out of the protective cloak of humanity and toward one of the side-streets. He hesitates, torn between running back toward Enjolras' land and turning to confront Bellamy's wolves. Surely they won't simply attack him here, in human form, in the midst of—

He doesn't see the female wolf until his teeth are sunk deep into the meat of Marius' left calf. Surprise dulls the pain, and for one long second he looks down, meeting the bright, intelligent eyes in the furred face.

Then the female clenches his jaw muscles, his teeth meeting through Marius' leg, and rips his head back in one smooth, vicious motion. The wolf swallows, throws back his head, and howls a challenge and a pack-summons to the sky, Marius' blood dripping down the wolf's face in dark red beads.

Marius screams. He can't help it. Pain and terror rip through him, cloud his thinking, because he needs to run because he is on another pack's land but this enemy has taken that ability away, and he needs… he needs…

He tries to take a step and his left leg collapses under him, the joint of his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle, his blood pooling in the street. He is dimly aware of people screaming, moving, of hands grabbing at him hap-hazardly, and he shrugs away from all of them.

He needs to run.

He needs to escape.

He needs to heal.

He can feel the Change building in him, a tightness in all his muscles, a heat in the blood spilling down his leg, and he doesn't fight it. A dim part of him says that he should, says that he needs to play human now, but he's bleeding and he's trespassing and they're here—

"Don't Change. Don't force me to kill you." The words are a low monotone spoken directly into Marius' ear as arms grab him from both sides, roughly, hauling him to his feet.

There's power in the words, authority, and even though this wolf isn't his alpha Marius finds himself obeying, the power of the Change dropping away from him, leaving him dizzy but somewhat clearer-headed.

He's being supported by Bellamy on his left, the female alpha holding his weight effortlessly. Two of Bellamy's wolves flank them, waving off any humans who reach for him, but there aren't that many now. In the time it's taken him to get his bearings Bellamy has steered them from the crowded thoroughfare down the small side-street that the wolf who maimed Marius had used—Yves, that was his name, Bellamy's beta, and Marius realizes that this whole thing has been orchestrated specifically to put him in this position.

"Help me!" He calls to the closest male human, the one most likely to act, lurching against Bellamy's hands as he does but not breaking the female's hold. "Please, help me, they're going to… they're going to…"

He doesn't know how to finish the sentence, his mind awash with the possibilities of what they might possibly want to do with him, and before he can finish the thought Bellamy's zeta slides up to the human, chattering rapidly about a crazed dog and how they're taking their friend for medical treatment and really it's been a very trying day already—

"Keep calling human attention to you and I'll make it so you can't speak." Bellamy hisses the words into his ear, too softly for any human to possibly pick up. "If you behave, if you do as I say, you'll come through this alive. I give you my word on that. If you make this difficult, I kill you for trespassing, in the most creative way I can think of, and no alpha will be able to intervene. Understand?"

Marius looks around, at the confused, uncertain faces of the humans they pass, at the trail of blood he's leaving behind. None of the human faces are familiar. None will trust him or seek to aid him, and his attempting to involve humans in what is a Pack affair will only cause other wolves to look more poorly on him than they already will for what he's done. Even if he gets away, he's too dizzy from blood-loss and hampered by what Yves did to him to make good on any escape plan.

Relaxing into Bellamy's hold, Marius bites his lip and tries hard to think of another way out of this situation he's gotten himself into.

He still hasn't thought of one when Bellamy's wolves drag him into an empty building, locking the door with chilling finality behind them.

XXX

Cosette bites off a soft scream as all the muscles in her left leg seize up into a rigid ball of agony, panic and fear suddenly flooding through her mind.

She needs to escape.

She needs to run.

She needs—

"Cosette?" Papa's arms are around her, supporting her, helping her to settle into their usual pew, and Cosette forces herself to focus on his face, on his touch, rather than drowning in the emotions suddenly filling her.

After a few seconds she's able to draw a full breath, the strange sense of panic and fear fading away, though her leg continues to throb. Reaching down gingerly, she feels at her skin, but can find no injury or swelling to explain the sudden pain. "I'm sorry, papa. I don't know what came over me. My leg simply started hurting, and—"

"It's all right, child." Her father's hands are gentle as he removes her shoe, his fingers feeling deftly over the bones of her ankle below where the pain originated. "Does this hurt? This?"

"No." Cosette blushes, smiling at the women who are staring at her. "The muscles hurt, but even that's fading. Perhaps… perhaps I twisted it without realizing…"

"Perhaps. I can't find anything wrong with it." Her father releases her foot, and she slides her shoe back on. He continues to frown, studying her. "Do you feel all right otherwise? Do you feel faint? Do you need to go home?"

"I feel… all right." She manages to smile for him, because she doesn't want to go home. Marius should be here at any moment, and—

Marius.

Thinking of him makes the pain in her leg worse, the sense of panic and confinement redoubling, and she draws a sharp breath but refuses to let her smile fall.

Marius.

Has something happened to him?

If so, how does she know it? How does she feel it?

How does she help him?

"Cosette?" Her father's hand brushes over her forehead, rearranging her bangs. "Child, please tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know, papa." It's true, at least. "I think… I think I'm all right, though. And I want to stay for service. We're supposed to meet Marius, remember?"

"Marius." He says the name as though it were a curse, then gentles his voice and his expression at her frown. "You're quite right. We'll wait for Marius. If you feel well enough, we'll stay for mass. If you don't, I'll take you right home and fetch a doctor. We can have Marius over even if you're ill, provided the doctor allows it and Marius himself isn't frightened away."

"Marius wouldn't be frightened. And I'm quite certain I'm not ill." She's more certain the longer she sits here. The panicked sense is gone, and the pain in her leg with it. Even speaking of Marius doesn't bring it back, and she hopes that means that whatever injury he's sustained was negligible.

Her father continues to fuss at her until she demands he attend to those requesting an audience with him, and he goes, reluctantly.

She waits, nervous, impatient, watching for Marius to appear in the door of the church.

XXX

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Please stop pounding on the door, I swear, my head is going to explode at one of those knocks, and that won't be a pleasant sight, there will be blood and bits of bone everywhere and—" Grantaire opens the door, looks around, blinks, and then forces his bleary eyes to focus on the child standing on the doorstep of the pack's den.

The human child, male, his clothing tattered, his skin the kind of grimy that comes from long periods of time without bathing, and Grantaire tilts his head to first one side and then the other, wondering what's going on.

"I've got a letter." The boy stares him straight in the eye, despite Grantaire's height, and though there's a hint of nervousness in his scent there's no fear on the child's face. "For a Monsieur Courfeyrac."

"Oh." Grantaire relaxes. If any of the pack would have letters delivered to the pack den at odd times by human children, it would be Courfeyrac. Most of the pack's business goes through the Musain, their den reserved as a place of safety, but if Courfeyrac trusted someone enough to give them this address than it must be fine. "Unfortunately, he's not here right now. I can give it to him when he comes back."

Grantaire holds his hand out for the letter, but the boy shakes his head, backing away. "They said give it just to him, as soon as possible, said it's urgently important. Do you know where he is?"

Frowning, Grantaire closes his eyes and touches his pack-bonds. They're clear again, open and inviting, the full moon followed by a full day's worth of avoiding alcohol meaning his head's clearer than it's been in a while. Or would be clearer, if not for the infernal pounding of blood in his ears with each beat of his heart. It's easy enough for him to get a general idea of Courfeyrac's location, though, somewhere at the university with Enjolras and Combeferre. Opening his eyes, Grantaire studies the boy once more. "Who's the letter from?"

"Monsieur Marius." The boy continues to watch him with those fierce, unafraid eyes, and Grantaire finds himself smiling.

"Here." Grantaire flips a coin to the boy, who catches it deftly and makes it disappear. "Wait for a moment. Let me grab my jacket and a drink, see if that helps my headache, and I'll take you to Courfeyrac. Agreed?"

"Agreed." The boy grins, settling down on his heels to wait.

Grantaire closes the door, shakes his head, and prepares to spend at least part of his Sunday out among the humans.

XXX

"—there's certainly a time and a place for education and for discussion, it's what we've been doing, but if we don't press forward with action when we have the opportunity then—" A hand touches his shoulder, interrupting his thoughts, and Courfeyrac turns from his meeting with Enjolras, Combeferre and a handful of their human allies to see Grantaire standing behind him, head tucked low in submission.

"Sorry to interrupt. You were making a very lovely speech. There's a boy here with a message for you, Courfeyrac, says it's direly important and that he won't part with it to anyone else." Grantaire scratches roughly behind his right ear, smiling at the humans. "I'm sure it won't take long, and then you can all get back to planning the best way to make things implode."

Touching his bond to the male, Courfeyrac sighs, finding a mixture of head-pain and the faint buzz of alcohol once more. Grantaire had been doing so well for the last day or so, too. "Where is the lad?"

"Out in the main part of the Musain. I thought you lot might not appreciate him hearing some of what you might be saying." Grantaire shrugs, hunching down even further. "I can get him, if you want."

"No, I'll come to him. I'll be back shortly, gentlemen. Try not to plan anything too daring without me."

"We wouldn't dream of it." Combeferre's reply is full of warmth as well as dry humor, and Courfeyrac's grinning as he follows Grantaire out.

"Sorry." Grantaire mumbles the word. "I just thought it would be nicer to bring the boy to you than to rough him up to get the letter."

"No, it's fine." Flinging his arm around the submissive, Courfeyrac nuzzles his neck as they traverse the short space between the pack's back room and the Musain proper. "I'm sure Enjolras will take up my argument, and I'll be back with them before they notice I'm gone. You're welcome to join us, you know."

"And add what?" Shaking his head, Grantaire studies his feet, though there's a smile on his face. "I'll do what the pack asks me, but I'm no strategist, and the more I learn about politics the more I think the entire topic's doomed from the start. Human packs are too big, their interests too disparate."

"We can't have a worse government than the one we have."

Grantaire gives him a sidelong look.

"All right." Courfeyrac concedes. "There could conceivably be worse governments, but the one we have is pretty bad. I think that trying a republic is a fine idea, and I think that if you wanted you could certainly aid us in our quest to do so. I think Enjolras would appreciate the effort."

Grantaire's smile grows, and Courfeyrac shakes his head as he feels pleasure slide along the pack-bond he shares with the male, barely concealed. While Grantaire seems to adore the rest of them and relish their company, he practically idolizes Enjolras, placing the alpha on a pedestal above anyone else in the pack—far, far above where Grantaire sees himself. It's endearing, in a way, but also frustrating, because Courfeyrac knows that what Enjolras wants most is for Grantaire to stand with him, beside him, not worship him.

He doesn't have time to comment on it, though, because they're in the main room of the Musain, and a young human is gazing up at him with a frown. "Are you Courfeyrac?"

"I am." Bending down so that he's at eye-level with the human child, Courfeyrac smiles. "I heard you have something for me?"

"From Marius." The boy produces a letter from inside his clothing and holds it out in one hand, the other open palm-up.

Courfeyrac places a coin in the child's empty palm and takes the letter from him. "Thank you."

"He said it was very urgent." The boy frowns as he repeats the message, nervousness entering his scent for the first time.

"I shall have a reply with the utmost of speed, then." Opening the letter, Courfeyrac scans the contents, frowns, and then reads it more closely.

The note is short, simple, a request for Courfeyrac to meet Marius at a small café near the border between their pack's territory and Bellamy's, to discuss a potential problem with human relations. The handwriting is rushed, hurried, but the signature is recognizable as Marius'. Raising the letter, Courfeyrac gives it a quick sniff, but it's hard to scent anything aside from the human child who brought it and a faint hint of Marius himself.

Grantaire is a solid presence against Courfeyrac's side, the submissive reading over Courfeyrac's shoulder. "Why does he want us to meet him there? What's he mean by relationships with—" Grantaire glances at the boy. "With others?"

"I truly haven't the faintest idea." Courfeyrac frowns at the child. "He didn't tell you anything else?"

"No." The boy shakes his head. "He just said you should hurry."

"Well…" Courfeyrac considers, then sighs and shoves the letter into his pocket. If the stray needs him, he can't very well refuse him. "Well, I suppose I'll have to give my regrets to my friends, then."

"Can I come?" Grantaire asks the question hesitantly. "I'd like to see him again. I may owe him an apology."

"I won't stop you." Courfeyrac pauses, considering the sharp overlay of alcohol on Grantaire's breath again. Perhaps if he keeps the submissive with him, gives him something to focus on that Grantaire's actually interested in such as Marius, he can keep Grantaire from getting himself into more trouble. "Actually, I think it's a good idea. Perhaps the two of us can help him out of whatever difficulty he's gotten himself into."

Making his apologies to their allies and his pack-mates, Courfeyrac collects his coat and hat and leads the way out of the Musain.

He doesn't notice the human child following them surreptitiously, the boy's expression alternating between puzzlement and curiosity.

XXX

It burns.

It burns against his skin, sizzles his blood where it touches, and he needs to get it off. He needs to get the bringer of agony away from him, out of him, because it hates all that he is and all that he is hates it, flares red-hot at its touch, retreats from it, his magic slipping and sliding beyond his reach.

"Stay with me, Marius."

The voice is calm, determined, and Marius whimpers as he struggles to bring his arms around, not understanding why they won't go to his throat, to the spikes there that are slowly driving him mad.

"Soon, pup, you'll get to run. Soon."

The voice croons in his ear, and he thinks that if he opened his eyes he might be able to see the owner, to remember who it is who speaks with authority but can't command him. Pack but not pack, and he needs… he needs…

"They're here. It's two of them, the gamma and the lambda." It's a different voice, less power but more energy.

"Both of them?" The first voice hesitates, then deepens again to an authoritative tone. "That's fine. Better, even. Twice as much pressure on their alpha."

"They should be able to see now." Glee rings in every syllable of the second voice, and Marius tries to move away from it, finding it impossible for some reason.

"Good." There's a note of satisfaction but not of joy in the first voice, and Marius feels himself being hauled up, something being taken from around his wrists.

His hands were bound. That makes sense. That's why he couldn't reach the infuriating, terrible, agonizing thing around his neck. Now his limbs are free, though, and he should be able to—

Hands grab his arms roughly, keep his fingers away from the agony at his neck, and he whimpers once more, twisting in impotent frustration, too weak to properly fight.

"Let's set our bait loose, then."

The last coherent thought he has is gratitude that someone else's fingers are apparently going to loosen the agony at his neck.

Then the spikes drive deeper, and he loses himself in animal panic and pain.

XXX

The streets are less crowded than they had been earlier in the day, and Courfeyrac is actually enjoying his time walking with Grantaire. The sun is warm above them, almost unseasonably warm, and Courfeyrac is certain that Bahorel will be a delight tonight, just as Grantaire is being a delightful companion right now. The male might have a tendency to ramble, but it doesn't bother Courfeyrac, and he's laughing when they approach the place that Marius had designated for their meeting.

It's an odd place for Marius to choose, very close to the pack's border with Bellamy's land, and Courfeyrac finds his feet slowing as they approach the establishment. Why here? Why had Marius not come to them? What possible trouble could he have gotten into with the humans?

Grantaire seems to notice his reticence and pauses in his speech, studying Courfeyrac questioningly.

Courfeyrac shrugs, having nothing concrete to point out to explain his feeling of unease. Hopefully it's just a passing fancy, and they'll meet Marius and everything will be—

The howling is a terrible thing to hear, a wolf's agony given voice from a stubbornly human throat, and Courfeyrac whirls toward the sound, feeling rather than seeing Grantaire do the same.

Marius is only two to three hundred meters down the street, but he might as well be in another world, on the other side of the pack boundary, on Bellamy's land. Marius' cries draw the attention of everyone in the vicinity. He leans against the wall of the building nearest the alley he had staggered out of a moment before, his breath awful heaving pants in between the howls of agony, his hands clawing helplessly at a black band around his neck.

"Marius?" Grantaire's voice rises in outrage and panic, and he takes off running toward Marius a moment before Courfeyrac does.

Courfeyrac follows him, though, and continues running when Grantiare pulls up short for a moment at the edge of their pack's boundary. One of the Pack is hurt—badly hurt, from the sounds he's making, could Change at any moment, and that would be disastrous for all of them. They'll grab Marius and drag him back onto the pack's land, have Enjolras apologize to Bellamy for what was done, and though Bellamy no doubt won't like it no one should be able to complain too strongly.

It's a decent argument, a lawyer's argument, and he comforts himself with the certainty that it will work as he breaks Pack law, does something that he shouldn't but must.

He cannot leave Marius, injured and alone, not when the other wolf has started to trust him and reach out to him for help.

Enjolras will understand, as he always understands.

Marius has collapsed by the time they reach his side. The scents of blood and fear and sickness surround him, and Courfeyrac drops to his knees next to the other wolf. Marius' fingers continue to scrabble at a black leather band tied tightly around his neck, blood oozing around the collar, and his eyes are open wide but seeing nothing.

"What is that?" Grantaire's hands slide along the collar as Courfeyrac restrains Marius' groping hands, Grantaire's fingers tracing around the band to where the clasp must be at the back, and then he pulls back with a yelp of pain. "It's silver. The clasp's silver, and—"

Courfeyrac knows what's going to happen as soon as Grantaire's hand is burnt by the cursed metal.

It makes no difference.

He and Grantaire are together, bound by pack magic, and they are strong.

There are six wolves in Bellamy's pack, though, led by their alpha for this, and they are furious.

Three wolves enter the fray in their fur and three in human form. Courfeyrac gives the first wolf who tries to bite him a good clout across the nose; the first human gets a black eye. While he's busy doing that a second wolf jumps at him, though, drives him back into the wall, and then Bellamy's beta has his teeth locked around Courfeyrac's wrist in a hold that could shatter every delicate bone there in under a second.

Courfeyrac stares into the wolf's eyes, seeing the warning there, the determination.

He doesn't try to dodge the blow from Bellamy's delta, and stars explode across his vision. The delta doesn't give him time to straighten before hitting him again, the strikes fast, filled with more fury than calculation, and Courfeyrac feels consciousness slip away blow by blow.

It finally fades entirely when the wolf holding his wrist shakes his head viciously, snapping bones like toothpicks, and Courfeyrac wonders if he's ever going to wake again.