A/N: I seem to do this an awful lot but, yet again, sorry for the long gap between updates. I've been so buried under revision I though my muse had suffocated, but despite the fact I still have A2 exams to do she started clamouring to be heard once more…so here I am! Seriously, I am panicking and very stressed, but I'll try not to let it interfere with this. One extra thing, in the last chapter I mentioned Angua getting lessons from her father and I think this may have confused some people. I didn't mean she was being taught how to be a werewolf (as Not Your Average pointed out she'd known that for a while) I meant he was teaching her how she would be different from normal humans, as previously she had been surrounded by other werewolves. Sorry if that wasn't clear! I can't quite believe this story has made it to 10 chapters, and I want to thank everyone who has supported me this far. Review replies…as always…at the end, along with copious thanks:

Warning: If you think romantic love can only exist between a man and a woman, this story may be too advanced for you.

Disclaimer: Does PTerry worry about A2 exams…no? Maybe it's because he isn't a 17 year old girl!

Chapter 10

Vimes slunk through the streets of Ankh-Morpork as the pale light of dawn oozed over the horizon. After some diplomatic 'close your eyes till I cough' changing and dressing, he and Angua had parted ways. Angua had gone back to the watch-house, ready to excuse him for another day, while Vimes headed to his second home.

The thought of Sybil's reaction plagued Vimes. On the one hand, she had always seemed fine with the idea of werewolves. She and Angua had taken to each other with the desperate air of women who spend most of their lives surrounded by men, and Sybil could even be civil to those werewolves who kidnapped her with possible murderous intentions.

"But on the other hand," began the more treacherous part of his mind, climbing onto its soapbox, "she's never exactly had to live with one, has she? Not in her own home. A dangerous beast that could threaten her dragons? You haven't got a hope."

Bingley-Bingley-Beep!

Vimes jerked reflexively, but realised soon after the sound couldn't be his watch, seeing as that was currently still on the battlefield at Gebra, unless some damn fool had picked it up and tried to use it. Sure enough, a few seconds later there was a rattle as the watch landed on the cobbles after being thrown through a nearby window. Vimes wished he still had his watch…it was one of those times kicking something down the pavement would have been very satisfying. The unwary traveller might have tried kicking one of the various bits of debris that littered the Ankh-Morpork streets, but that was inadvisable. At best you would have a shoe that could never be worn again, at worst a very irate gnoll that was now attached to your foot.

Vimes slipped through the large iron gates and began the approach to the Ramkin house. Remembering how early it was, he stole round to the back door, but before Vimes could even rattle the doorknob Wilikins had it open.

"Good morning sir. Miss Ramkin will be overjoyed to see you safe and sound when she awakens. Until then, if you would be so kind as to follow me to the Vibrantly Yellow Morning Room, I will see to your breakfast."

Vimes mutely followed Wilikins into the house, attempting to decide whether all butlers gained seemingly precognitive skills as part of basic training, or whether Wilikins just never slept.

A short time later, as Vimes was finishing some very black coffee, he looked up in time to be enveloped by the slightly anxious whirlwind that was Sybil. He was pulled up into a strong-armed hug that would have done Detritus proud.

"Sam, I was worried! Angua was so evasive I was sure something dreadful had happened." Sybil paused, then added ruefully, "Well, more dreadful than usual anyway."

Sybil then released him, and as he tried manfully not to stagger she looked him up and down.

"Honestly Sam, the girl who does the washing is fed up with you coming home covered in blood all the time. At least this time it can't be yours…what with the amount, but it stains terribly."

Vimes looked down at his uniform which, sure enough, was stained with blood down one side from the other night's adventures. Vimes hadn't had time to look before, but now he was shocked at the amount there was. Vetinari had not been exaggerating when he said without the transfusion Vimes would have died. He looked back up, meeting Sybil's eyes. He knew the next part would be awkward, however he began.

"Sybil…it is my blood."

Expressions of disbelief, swiftly followed by shock and panic flitted across Sybil's features. Vimes continued hurriedly, before Sybil could speak.

"It's a long story, one it would be best if we sat down for."

They sat facing each other, Sybil directing a questioning look at him. Vimes began his story. After some time past he finally reached the end.

"...so I'm a werewolf now." He finished lamely, not daring to meet her eyes.

Drumknott was worried. The Patrician was…well he was fine, but not the sort of fine where everything is ok. This was more like the moment of calm and quiet you get after you hear the ice creak, just before it shatters and falls apart under your feet.

Vetinari was still just as competent in dealing with the various aspects of the city, and was certainly not the sort of man to be caught staring gloomily into space in an unguarded moment, an artistic tear gathering in the corner of one eye.

No, outwardly there was no sign of anything wrong. But then mountains always look fine until half of them slips sideways to bury a small, picturesque village (complete with blonde, pigtailed goat-girls).

Drumknott was definitely worried. He knew what he doubted even the Patrician could admit to himself – that Vetinari needed Vimes, and that the reverse was also true.

For Vetinari, Vimes was the one man he could truly and completely trust. Drumknott knew he himself was not entirely trusted, though he didn't let it bother him unduly. There was a difference between deducing someone wouldn't be involved in a particular plot; and knowing, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that whatever the situation that person was irreproachable. Drumknott knew while he was the former, Vimes definitely fell into the latter.

And for Vimes, Vetinari represented a constant. Vimes knew Vetinari always acted for the good of the city…the eventual good anyway. Vimes could trust that if ever Vetinari betrayed him it would be for a higher goal, not simply to line his own pocket, which was strangely comforting. And there was also the fact that, although Vetinari appeared to distance himself for the efforts of the Night Watch, he was more in the way of a silent partner – even if all that was needed was to wind Vimes up enough to fuel that extra effort.

Drumknott sighed quietly as he worked through yet another piece of paperwork. Averting suspicion before when Vetinari had been absent was hard enough. If he didn't find some way to reconcile the two men soon, who knew what might happen.

Sybil cleared her throat.

"A werewolf. That's…" she tailed off.

Vimes flinched. He had just about convinced himself that Sybil would understand, like she always did. But it looked like this had pushed her too far. A black depression welled up within him.

"What?" he said listlessly. "Horrifying, ghastly, threatening? Those are some words I came up with when I heard."

"Well actually I was about to say fascinating…but I suddenly thought you might take it the wrong way."

Vimes snapped his head up to meet Sybil's warm gaze. The shock at her words must have been plastered across his face as she continued, with a slight hint of reproach in her tone.

"Did you really think so little of me Sam? If I can cope with dragons, trolls and even the occasional visit from Nobby, I'm not going to turn away a friend because of a little thing like this."

Vimes coloured slightly, as relief mixed with embarrassment. No matter how long he lived with Sybil, she always managed to exceed his expectations. He began to apologise, but she cut him off.

"Don't worry about it Sam. Now, seeing as you have the day off from the yard today…you can help me feed the dragons."

Tbc…though probably not till after my exams.

Now, to the people I always pretend I'm not looking for when I open my email account:

Rowana S: Thanks for the ego boost…always much appreciated. I hope your GCSE's went well…Good Luck!

Elliot: Aw you definitely don't sound like you had a good day. I agree though…topics are so limitedL. Glad you liked the chapter, the senses bit took a long time to write so I'm glad it was ok. I hadn't really thought about the ramifications of Vimes and Angua (though his is sort of her cub now), but thanks to you I think it will be appearing shortly! Good luck with English…give your teacher a glower from me!

Gestalt: Love the name. And also the fact that you like the idea and the story! If you like V/V slash, there are other stories (which you've probably found by now) that do it too.

Not Your Average: Dear god that is long! I will of course expect that length in future though. Ahh sugar…it's got us through some tough times, that and our old friend monosodium glutamate. The con-crit demons have been duly noted than had a banshee set on them, but the cookie was most welcome. Christine will be bashed more later if I can possibly get it in…if not she may be murdered in the sequel. As for David Eddings…well we have that lovely story planned don't we. And the name is Lucy!

CiraArana: Glad you liked it. As of yet I don't really know how Vimes will act as a werewolf, but if sure it will come to me…I hope.

BHS: Ah those v's…they get everywhere! Glad you like it though…and lucky you, you get a quick update unlike the rest of these poor reviewers.