A/N: Hey guys! SteinMon here with another literary experiment. I have way too many idea roaming around in my head, so I thought I'd ease the burden with some Samples.

I had watched Grimm up to halfway through Season 4 several years ago, and didn't have the chance to finish it until about February 2021. It prompted some ideas, and this Sample was a result of it.

The idea for this story came from a "What If?" scenario, one that bugged me throughout my rewatching and watching Grimm. Mostly, I was confused by the fact that Grimm's don't prepare their children for becoming a Grimm. Given the apparent rarity of not inheriting their Grimm traits, this was... confusing. Rather, the moment they are confirmed a Grimm, they are then trained; or in Nick's case, forced to become self-taught/-sufficient or die trying. It's confirmed in the series that male Grimm's tend to emerge later in life, but it still struck me how unprepared Nick was for it. Even if he never became a Grimm, he was left in the dark regarding Aunt Marie and his parents lives until far too late, well past the cusp of adulthood. And I could only imagine what would have happened had he remained uninformed, or his kids had their Grimm emerge if his didn't. Chaos for sure.

This is my attempt to provide the "What if Marie had taught Nick about being a Grimm beforehand?" In addition, there were some vague, or unexpanded references in the show that I decided to run with and expand on, and plenty of additions that I came up with myself. Given the vast utility and adaptability of Grimm's, and Nick's fully embracing his heritage, it gave a all-submerged version of Nick that I decided to write about. His character (morality and core values) will be largely unchanged, but his capabilities and willingness to go-"Grimm" will be different.

That being read, I welcome your Reviews. If you have criticisms, I welcome those too. Please keep them constructive. I want to grow as an author, and I can't do that if people aren't willing to critique, or only want to tear me down. I'm not here to please everybody, but I am here to learn. There is a method to my madness, even if I don't always fully understand it. 90% of what I write, I don't write baselessly. There is a reason some things are changed, and others are the same.

Disclaimer: I don't own Grimm or its subsidiaries. Those rights belong exclusively to the original creators, and NBC that aired it.

Without further ado. *Que the dimming of the lights*

Prologue: Darkness Falls on Steel

"Why are we here?"

"That seems like a bit of a loaded question. And unusually deep for you. Loving the introspection you're showing, Hank."

"Haha," was the sarcastic, half-hearted chuckle back. "But seriously, Nick. Why are we outside a jewelry store? Last I checked, you were forever single, and I am not lookin' for wifey numero… eh? What's the Spanish word for 'five'?"

"Cinco," Nick stated, rolling his eyes a little as he glanced out the window of their work car. Not like Hank couldn't count to five in Spanish. He just liked to make Nick do the work.

"Yeah, that. So, what are we doin' here?" Hank was giving him the coy look that said he had a theory or two that might make him uncomfortable. "You got a girlfriend in the works you haven't told me about?"

Nick (Nicholas) Burkhardt just snorted at the absurdity of that statement. Him? A girlfriend? Not likely. The odds of that had been stacked against him from day one. Nevermind the early mornings, late nights, the risk of injury, and potential qualm of death that hung over him with his job. There was also a very high chance that he was a Grimm. To say the name and to explain everything that fell under that name would take too long and hours of unimpeded study and research, with a slight chance of believing one was crazy. Suffice to say, it was a name that, in the right circles, would command respect and fear. Or have a bunch of monsters disguised as people trying to rip your throat out in the wrong circles. There was a whole history, lineage, and responsibility that had been passed down, generation after generation, for over the last two thousand years; possibly even further back. It was as much a vocation as it was bored into his genetics. It wasn't something that could be ran away from, or ignored; because eventually, no matter how much one tried to ignore the darkness, it would eventually reach out to take a swing.

But Nick wasn't a Grimm. Or at least, not yet. He was little better than an over-equipped and world-wary Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen. Maybe with a kukri or two, and a few specializations that would be considered rare even among Grimm's.

And only time would tell if he ever became one.

Suffice to say, he'd been preparing for the eventuality as far back as he could remember. At the ripe age of thirteen, his Aunt Marie had explained their family's dark little secret. Even got him to see a full-on, no bars held, Woge to ensure he understood the bare minimum the truth presented. From then it had been training. And studying. It wasn't what some might call a "proper" childhood, but it was his. Everything from utilizing varies old world weapons, to reading up on the many Wesen that inhabited the world; on top of learning German, Spanish, and Latin. He even knew a sliver of French.

And he had taken to it. Like a fish to water. Or as his ancestors might have said, a Dämonfeuer to precious metals.

It wasn't just something to study for Nick. No, it was more… something spoke to him as he poured for hours over dusty tomes in his aunt's trailer; some of them having been around since before the lights had been turned out in the Dark Ages. Or the times he'd spent addressing his ancestor's weapons and the history that was flecked and etched on every surface. Or studying the ingredients and chemical mixes of the elixirs and poisons his ancestors created to assist them against far stronger Wesen.

It might have been all the history that was passed down, shining a light into his family's history where he was otherwise orphaned at the age of twelve. It might have been something that gave him direction and purpose so soon after the death of his parents. Either way, it had changed the man Nick Burkhardt had become. Whether or not he was revealed to be a Grimm or not, it was a part of him now. It had taken hold of a key part of him, and would sooner never see itself separate from him.

In its own way, it had spurred him into Law Enforcement. His ancestors had been a sort of police for Wesen, and it naturally took him in that direction. His early years of training had honed his body and mind to an amazing degree, and it had made the testing for said applications relatively simple. It probably didn't hurt that he had sharp eyes and instinct, and just as valuable, a knowledge of Wesen that few – if any – cops on Earth had, giving him connecting threads across normally unsolvable cases. To date, he was among the youngest officers to ever make detective in the Portland Police Department; and the closing rate on their cases was also the highest in the department thanks to those "connections" he could sometimes make.

Hank didn't always understand how or where Nick made his connections, but it solved cases and closed the books. At the end of the day, justice was what mattered. And in Nick's opinion, the less anyone knew, the better. That was a rabbit hole he wouldn't inflict on anyone.

It didn't mean he wasn't anticipating his first true Woge though. The one that would reveal to him his status as a Grimm. Maybe it was a strange, or stupid, hope. But even at twenty-seven years old, that hope was still unceremoniously strong as the day he'd heard, and understood, the word "Grimm".

"Hellooo~ooo? Earth to Nick?"

Nick shook his head, suddenly returned to the land of the present. "Hmm?"

Hank rolled his eyes again, giving him a drawl look. "Jewelry store? Girlfriend? Why are we here?"

Ah, he remembered now. "I'm not here for the jewelry store," he stated, opening his passenger door to get out of their shared work vehicle. "I'm here for the coffee shop just down the street. And this is probably the best parking spot we're gonna get at this time of day." He gestured to the busy lineup of cars that seemed to occupy every other space.

Hank snorted, shaking his head lightly. "And here you got my hopes up that you had lost that cynicism regarding relationships. Some indication that Happily Ever After would finally bite you in the ass."

Nick rolled his eyes as he closed the door, and Hank was soon following him out of the car. "Family curse. Committed relationships just aren't in the cards Hank. But if it helps, one look at you, and I have an appreciation for my sad. Lonely. Single life."

"Ouch." Hank took the jab in stride though, not far behind him. "I hear a potential ass-whoopin' in the making."

"I'll call 'Police Brutality', Hank," Nick called back with a arms open in both a dare and as a subtle shrug. "Don't think I won't."

"You can't call 'Police Brutality' if you police too," Hank shot back, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Now how 'bout that coffee? You joke, you buy. And I'm ordering the most expensive thing they got."

"Fine. But you can foot the next one." Nick was in good spirits. Nothing like a couple exchanged friendly burns to brighten the day a little. Even if the sky was always a dusky Portland grey anyway. And so far, they hadn't been called in yet. It wasn't batting a thousand, but it was pleasant none-the-less. It meant that maybe – just maybe – he could catch a break from any Wesen-related cases… that he couldn't really confirm were Wesen-related cases.

He was so busy basking in the good mood, he accidently ran into someone. Hot liquid splashed onto his jacket and shirt, causing him to wince. "Shit, sorry."

"Ah! Shit!" a rather sharp voice hissed. Evidently he wasn't the only one.

"Hey watch it!"

He was met with a woman in grey dress and dark hair giving him the stink eye. But that wasn't what drew his attention. It was the person next to her with coffee splashed on her. A string of details began drawing him in unbidden. Dark overcoat, lavender blouse, loose and straight blonde hair, light eyes. Shit! That was Armani-brand coat that now had coffee spilt all over it. The details continued to pour in despite his best attempts to quell it.

'Probably makes around low six-figures, drives a BMW, is in a flirtatious relationship with a senior partner at her law firm, and this woman next to her is a co-worker.' This was equally proceeded by a proper exclamation. 'Fuck. She's a lawyer.' Not just any lawyer; a relatively familiar one too. She'd handled some of the cases he and Hank had brought in. Boy, he was probably in trouble.

"Are you alright?" Nick asked, knowing it was kind of a stupid thing to ask, but it was habit.

The tight-lipped groan of irritation he got in response was understandable enough.

"You need a hand Adalind?" her co-worker asked.

"I got it," the scalded woman stated with an exasperated huff.

"I'll, uh… see you at the firm then," her co-worker opted out, already walking away, but not before giving Nick one more glare for good measure. As if he didn't already feel bad enough.

Nick watched her leave for a moment before sighing in frustration. 'And it had been such a good day.' "Again, sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Nono, its fine!" Clearly it wasn't. Absently shaking the excess coffee off her hand and carefully stabilizing whatever remained in her squashed cup, the lawyer began looking over her file bag, ensuring none of the documents or contents within were stained.

Nick really didn't want to, but it came out instinctively. "How can I help?"

"You can start with watching where you walk," she snipped back.

The wide-eyed breath of "so that's how it is" twisted across Nick's face. Suffice to say, he spoke before he thought. "That's a given considering we're both covered in hot coffee. I meant other than the obvious."

His lip must have surprised her – it surprised him sometimes – because her head shot up to look at him. There was a cold fury to her eyes that goaded at him and prodded him to glare back. "I don't want, or need, your help."

"Be as that may, I thought I'd offer it," Nick stated, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It took a few attempts to breathe steadily, but eventually he managed the bare minimum to calm down. "Sorry, that was uncalled for. My mouth ran before my brain did." He took a few more breaths for good measure before opening his eyes and looking at her, eyeing his reaction with a hint of sympathy.

"Apology accepted," she stated, not quite looking at him, but not… not looking at him. "It was partially my fault too. I was too caught up talking to my co-worker." She visibly looked at him for a second before asking, "Is your shirt gonna be okay?", still looking through her bag.

"It's fared worse," he admitted with half-chuckle. "I was more concerned with yours. I can pay for the drycleaner's if you want."

"You? Pay for the dry-cleaning? On this?" Her voice still sounded a little clipped, but there was a hint of teasing. "Not on your salary, detective." Oh, so she'd already sized him up. Probably the same way he'd size her up. Or remembered him from some of those aforementioned cases.

He brushed his coat back to put his hands of his hips. He wasn't unused to playing that "you don't make as much money as me" game. He'd done it with plenty of people who thought it would protect them from the law, though most of them had been suspects with a fair amount of evidence against them at hand. At least she was making it fun rather than difficult.

"No worries," he dismissed. "All I'll have to do is eat nothing but chicken, rice, and occasionally frozen burritos for the next seven months." An over-exaggeration, but why not?

"You make it sound like you have it down to a science," she said back. "I mean, spilling coffee on people just to pay for their dry-cleaning."

He decided to play to the joke. "Seven months and eleven days to be exact."

There was a hint of snort from her, but it was suppressed and schooled behind a calm demeanor.

"So?" he asked.

She seemed to think on for a moment before she smiled slightly. "Tell you what detective, if you want to spend the money that badly, I'll drop the bill off in person. Which precinct would that be?"

"Uh," Nick's brain glitched for a moment, before the thought finally finished. They were seriously doing this? Okay then. "South Precinct."

Whatever light was shining in her eyes had suddenly drained, and her smile looked more strained than anything as that revelation came to light. Something was wrong. His instinct as a detective couldn't ignore it, but he didn't press it. It technically wasn't any of his business.

Nick thought it over for a moment, trying to discern what could cause someone to visibly deflate so much. The only thing he could think of was a person; possibly someone who was, or had been, close to her. 'Her Ex-something probably works there.' He decided it probably wouldn't be a good idea to point out her shift in mood, and just roll with whatever she decided. It was more-or-less his fault for running into her.

"Ah," she stated, recognizing it well enough.

"If that's okay?" he said, slow and wary to ensure he wasn't prodding toward anything he shouldn't.

She perked up at his voice, a questioning look on her face as the question processed. "Oh. Um… yeah. Yeah that works. Um, your Detective…?" There was a pause. Evidently all she had figured out was his job.

"Burkhardt. Nick Burkhardt," he said, offering his hand.

"Oh, well, I'm Schade. Adalind Schade," she offered back, shaking his hand pleasantly enough.

"Well I look forward to it Miss Schade," he quipped back, earning him another small snort.

She nodded before what she'd been doing priorly caught up with her. "I should probably go change."

Her words caught up with him, and he too was brought back to reality. "Oh, um, yeah. Me… too."

She smiled at his fumble before moving past him. "I'll see you soon… detective." The way she said it. It wasn't malicious or threatening by any mean. But it still made the back of his neck crawl. And not unpleasantly.

Something else sprang to mind, and he turned around to look at her. "Wait. So how did you know I was a detective?"

"I saw the badge on your belt," she called back, only turning around long enough to smirk at him. "And officers don't usually dress so casual."

As she turned around, he almost missed it. But it sucked the light right out of the world. The near imperceivable twitch in her neck, as though she was tensing, followed by her skin almost seeming to shed off and the color drain from her golden hair to the color of silver. Her mouth faded from full-lips and bright smile to thin lips and gnarled teeth while the rest of her features withered all at once. Her light blue eyes suddenly seemed to go milky, with strands of flesh growing to connect her eyelids as though they were trying to sew themselves shut. The mouth opened in a slight creaking noise that clicked rapidly, almost a "cackle". It was like looking at a corpse.

A Hexenbiest. He was staring at a Hexenbiest. He'd recognize one anywhere from his aunt's books. Distinct appearances aside and being one of the supposed foremost enemies to his ancestors, it was hard not to have taken note of them.

But if he was seeing a Hexenbiest, that meant he saw a Woge. But if that happened, that would mean….

'I'm a Grimm,' he thought, feeling as the name both affirmed something he'd always hoped for. But at the same time now, it robbed him of something. Something important. And next moment, he realized what that something was: the benefit of ignorance. It was a strange loss to feel, but a notable one all the same, and he couldn't help but wonder if his ancestors had also felt it when they saw their first Woge.

He blinked as the Woge faded, leaving a very confused, and very shocked Adalind Schade looking straight back at him. At his sweet, kind, steel grey eyes as they had suddenly turned to pools of mirroring black, reflecting her Woged state back to her. It had faded, but it was a familiar story every Wesen, but especially Hexenbiests, were told. Dēcapitāre. He was a Grimm, but at the same time, unlike any Grimm she'd ever heard of.

For one, he was just staring at her, a number of emotions crossing his face. Confusion, realization, recognition, hope, acceptance, wariness, caution. Sorrow. And yet, he wasn't moving, still looking at her as though he'd just been slapped, still clearly processing.

Maybe she could play it off; get home and alert her mother before this came back to haunt either of them. But the look in his eyes said he knew what he saw. And he recognized and accepted the reality of the situation. He was well aware of what he was… and of what she was.

"I… uh… gotta go," she said weakly, moving quickly to get out of his sight before the apparent Grimm could move to take her head off. Just as all his ancestors had been wont to do.

She was fading fast, but Nick didn't go after her, still a little stunned by the sudden emergence of his "Grimm" so to speak.

"Well, well. I never thought I'd see the day." Nick turned back to see Hank smirking smugly at him. "Nick Burkhardt. Flirting with a woman. It started a little rocky, but if I didn't know any better, I'd think you ran into her on purpose too. But da-amn! Tell me you at least got her digits before she disappeared."

"Not exactly," Nick stated, looking back where she had disappeared.

Hank just tsked in soft disappointment. "So I got my hopes up for nothing." Then he got a look that Nick would normally associate with a bad idea. Kind of like the look he got when he met his eventual wife number four. "Tell you what, you go get her number, and I'll buy the coffee."

"Wha– No, I– I don't think that's a good idea," Nick protested. A really bad idea. She was a… oh God! She was a Hexenbiest! Nick needed a moment to digest that. And possibly make sure it wasn't just wishful thinking. And maybe get ahold of Aunt Marie; she'd need to know about this; hisGrimm, not the Hexenbiest; but maybe the Hexenbiest too.

"I'm not saying you marry her and move to suburbia with a mini-van…."

'Good. Cause wouldn't that be… weird?'

"…But, it couldn't hurt to ask. One date at a time. The–"

"If you say "the worst she can say is no", you'll be on a milk carton and I'll miss my partner, dearly," Nick stated with a pointed look that bordered on sarcasm, but not without a smirk that was tugging at the corner of his mouth. Damn, it wasn't that funny. It really wasn't, but then again… it was.

"Just do it," Hank ordered, already moving toward the coffee shop. "I wanna see my boy make progress."

Nick stood there for a moment longer, some of the irony of the situation standing out. "Right. Progress." In all the wrong areas evidently.

Adalind was moving as quickly as she could in her suddenly obnoxious heels without drawing attention. She waited until she had turned down an alley before fishing out her phone, already dialing one of her few contacts. The tone trilled for a moment or two before she heard someone pick up.

"Hello?" Judging by the tone, she had interrupted something semi-important.

"Mom, its Adalind," she said quickly, realizing it was more or less self-explanatory.

"And what could be so important that my daughter decides to call me in the middle of the day," Catherine Schade demanded in that same chastising, motherly tone, like Adalind should know better than to do such a thing.

Ignoring her mother's otherwise belittling, she took a deep breath. "There's a Grimm in Portland."

The soft scooting sound on the other end of the line implied her mother was getting up, now alert. "Are you sure? Did it see you?"

"Positive," Adalind affirmed, looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "And yes, he saw me. I think he was more startled than I was. But… he's a detective."

"That shouldn't be an issue."

"At the South Portland Police Department," she finished with wince to her eyes, sighing at just how screwed she might be.

There was a pause on the other end. "Have you talked to Sean about this?"

'Of course!' she thought with a strained sarcastic grin. 'I just instantly go to Prince Charmer whenever I have a problem!'

"I haven't had a chance to call him," she admitted, which was partially true, but it wouldn't be enough if she couldn't come up with an excuse. "I thought it was best to inform you since I don't know if he's following me. You might need to lay low." She swallowed thickly, as she looked back toward the mouth of the alley. "Just in-case I… you know… lose my–" She couldn't even finish, her mouth dry with nervousness.

"I understand." There was a solemn silence on both ends of the phone. "Come back safely." It was barely as whisper, but Adalind knew it was about as emotional or sentimental as her mother would ever get.

"I'll do my best," she said, her voice slipping slightly with a fearful shudder. Rather than try to apologize, or fix her slip in emotion, she hung up. If she lived through this, her mother would probably have some words about it.

She didn't have to wait long at least. Adalind could sense him entering the alleyway, almost jogging through its mouth before slowing down at the sight of her.

"So you Woged," his voice was a touch different than it had been before-hand. No longer happy, funny, or flirtatious. Just… calm. Cool. Calculating. "You… You're a Hexenbiest, right?"

Her neck rolled slightly in answer as she Woged, turning around to see the same thing she had seen just moments before: her reflection staring back at her through those Grimm black eyes. She let loose a quick "cackle" from her jaw, instinctively preparing to defend herself.

"Ughhhh." She was suddenly taken aback. It was a surprising sound to hear, almost a groan as the Grimm covered his eyes, scrunching his face before blinking a few times and looking back at her again, and never once did those black orbs fade. "So it wasn't just wishful thinking." He looked off to the side, scoffing slightly as he shook his head. "Figures."

"And what is a Grimm doing here?" she chittered back, her head cocking almost animal-like.

"You're my first official Grimm Woge, so I wasn't exactly expecting it either," he explained, talking to her straight. It was strange to see those black eyes persisting on his face, completely devoid and hollow, but… so full at the same time. Of what, she wasn't sure. "Had to make sure I wasn't just imagining it."

Which caused her to step back in surprise. He was just… talking. Since when did Grimm's lead with talking? And there was a distinct lack of something sharp in his hands. And what was that? 'His first Grimm Woge?'

"I was thinking a Bauerschwein or a Maushertz. Hell, I'd even take a Blutbad. You know, just to ease my way into the fact that my Grimm finally decided to show up," he continued, rubbing his eyes. He looked more stressed than she did. And he was supposed to be the decapitator here. "But no. A Hexenbiest. First time. Aim big I guess. Might as well have gone for a Alpe. Or a Manticore. Or hell, why not a Sha-Set?!"

"Are you here to kill me?" It was an honest question. One Adalind was wanting a proper answer to. Her hand lifted slightly, prepared to unleash whatever powers she could on him depending on his answer. Hell, she might just bash him into a wall anyway.

"Not unless you give me reason to," Nick answered seriously before noticing her stance. Clearly, not a friendly one. "I'm a cop first, so let's keep it civil if you don't mind. Besides… you wouldn't do any damage." He reached under his neck. A soft clink from his movements elicited a hostile chitter from her, before he held up his hands non-threateningly, gently pulling whatever it was free, including a leather cord weighted by varies items, each attached asymmetrically with their varying size and weights under his collar. But more specifically, he held up a small smooth black river stone that reflected just as darkly as his eyes did.

'Oh, are you kidding me?!' she hissed, her jaw clacking in irritation. "Where the hell did you get a Hexenabwehr?" Quite the rare little trinket he had there. Suffice to say, it didn't make her relax. If anything, it made her more antsy.

"That's not important," he said, putting the small stone back under his shirt, hiding it from sight. "I have no intention of fighting right now. Besides, not exactly armed for it."

"Couldn't you just shoot me?" Great! Now she was giving him ideas.

He seemed to ponder it for a second, the look on his face only half-serious. "I could, but then ballistics would eventually trace it back to me." He wasn't going to mention that he had a few spare guns stored away in case he needed a fresh scrub with no prints after tossing the old gun. Modern Grimm problems and solutions. "I'd rather deal with things from my side of the street before I resort to head-lopping. Harder to stay under the radar that way."

'His side of the street?' Did he mean as a detective?

She wasn't sure why, but that was… reassuring. There was something about the way he spoke and the gazing depths of those hellish black eyes that radiated his convictions. Twin voids that swallowed her doubts. He hadn't tried anything, and it seemed he was more curious than hostile. "So… what happens now?" she asked, still not ready to drop her guard, not that she could do much as long as he had that damn stone. Not without getting within head-lopping distance.

Although, something he had said bothered her. She was his first Woge. Just now. And yet, he seemed far more prepared and conscious of Wesen than a beginner should probably understand.

'He's had training,' she realized. That never boded well. And she had just become a catalyst for his own awareness. An authentication of his status. 'Shit.' Suffice to say, she wasn't mentioning that particular detail to anyone if she survived this. God, her mother would talk her ear off if she ever found out.

"Nothing."

That was it? "Nothing?" she asked incredulously. "So you followed after me – practically stalked me – just to make sure you saw what I was correctly?"

"In the long sum of things," he answered, turning to leave. "I mean… unless you want to fight or something?" The way he said it so nonchalantly, equipped as he was with a Hexenabwehr, she didn't like her chances.

"I mean… shouldn't we?" she asked, an odd mixture of confusion on her corpse-like face. "Grimm. Hexenbiest. Mortal bitter enemies?" God, the longer she talked to him, the less and less it made sense. The less he made sense.

"Have you killed anyone?"

His question throws her for a loop. She didn't know what she was thinking as her Woge ended, her surprise regressing her. "What?! No! Why would I kill someone?" Granted, it might come up in the future, if the (literal) bastard asked her to. So far, she'd avoided heavy handed stuff like that.

Still, she found it odd. How he just continued to meet her eyes. Woged or otherwise, he continued to look at her as though she hadn't changed at all. It was alarming. Disconcerting. And she wasn't sure if it was a good thing… or a bad thing.

He just shrugged. "Then why would I even attempt to kill you. You're far from harmless, but then again, so am I. That's no reason to eliminate someone who hasn't done anything." He looked up slightly, as though in thought, before he muttered. "Damn. I gotta get back to work." He was already turning to leave. "See ya."

"That's it?" she asked in disbelief, just waiting for the axe to fall. In this case, literally.

"Oh," he said in realization, turning back around to face her. His eyes had regressed with her, revealing a steel grey that glimmered with amusement. "I look forward to that dry-cleaning bill." And he turned to leave again. "Have a good day Miss Schade."

There was a paused moment for her. Then two. And then he was gone as he disappeared from the alley.

She wasn't sure how she stayed upright. She wanted to just fall over and sit on the ground for a moment and breathe, despite how disgusting the alley was. For the first time in a long time, Adalind had felt fear for her life. Granted, in the span sum of five to ten minutes they had actually spent talking with each other, they had gone from running into each other to flirting to some ancient feud their ancestors had started. Not that actions on both sides weren't completely warranted.

And those eyes. Either of them really. A black that sucked out the essence of who you were, or the steel that seemed neither hostile nor accommodating. And he had just become a Grimm, but trained as though anticipating this moment.

Whatever the case, she was just glad to be alive and her head intact.

"Oh God," she whispered, swallowing the bile that was threatening to come up before it wasn't just coffee on her shirt. And she still had to figure out what to tell her mother.

"So did you get it?" Hank asked, demonstrating the coffees he'd bought to uphold his end of the bargain. Nick just strolled along with an interesting smile on his face. "Come on. Tell me my boy got the lady's number."

Nick shook his head, earning a groan of disappointment from Hank. "No worries Hank. I think I'll be seeing her around."

Hank gave him a droll look as he snatched a coffee from his hands. "You're not gonna case her, are you? Stake out her house or something? Don't do anything stalkerish. Women hate that."

"I don't want to hear that from the man who checked all his ex's records before he married them," Nick chastised, turning around to point at his partner.

"A man has to be certain he's not dating a potential psycho. That's not stalkerish, that's being cautious," Hank excused, both of them heading back to the car. "But seriously. You gonna check her record?"

"Nah," Nick stated, taking a quick sip of his drink. "Call it a gut feeling."

Hank gave him a 'really' look as they got to vehicle. "I hate it when you get gut feelings. They're usually right. And if you're getting one about that chick, I suppose it'll be sooner rather than later.

"But speaking of gut feelings, we got a call while you were getting busy."

Nick rolled his eyes. "We got a case?"

"Oh yeah. One of those cases where our – and by 'our', I mean 'your' – gut feelings garner results."

'Shit,' he thought. Well that didn't bode well. Hopefully it would just be another open and shut case. Nothing that would trigger his Grimm.

His Grimm.

Just thinking about it brought a well of elation, and devastation. He'd been waiting as long as he'd known about his ancestors for his abilities to manifest, but now that they had, he found it was somewhat burdening. 'Too late now.' At least his first Woge hadn't been all that bad. Granted, a Hexenbiest. But she seemed decent enough, if not more scared of him than he was of her. They probably wouldn't be friends, but maybe they didn't have to be enemies, unlikely though that was.

'I guess we'll see,' he pondered as Hank began driving out into traffic.

Author's Note:

Heads-up: I'm not sure how often I'll be posting these yet, or if it will continue. This is mostly to relieve the pressure on my brain. Because it's a Sample Story, if I get serious about writing this, it will be subject to changes. So not everything here will be gospel if I come back to it.

I have the ideas, but only time and feedback will determine if anything comes out of it.