AN: First time writing for TWAU, so I hope the characterisation is alright! Any tips/critique is welcome. This is just to get past my writer's block, so there isn't much of a plan or care gone into it.

Bigby sat in his office, glaring at the desk as if it had personally offended him.

After what happened with the Crooked Man, he hadn't been called out at all. Toad had been shipped off to the Farm and the guys down at the Trip Trap were quietly recovering. Even the Jersey Devil wasn't making any trouble.

Well. He probably was, just being sneaky about it.

Which was a fuckin' good idea, since Bigby was in no mood to fuck around with anyone. Not now.

Snow barely looked at him and he couldn't even control his form any more - the yellow wolf's eyes had become pretty permanent. It unnerved the Fables, he could tell. And every time they flinched away and scurried off, the problem got worse and worse, until Bigby stopped trying to keep himself human-looking.

On the up side, it meant he didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't. He could just hole up in his office and glare at his desk and smoke like a chimney to dull the smell of fear.

Just as Bigby was lighting up one of his Huff N' Puffs, someone knocked. A quick sniff and he knew it was Snow White. Odd.

'Come in,' He said after a moment, swallowing down the growl that wanted to go with it. As she opened the door, Bigby closed his eyes and concentrated, breathed in the cigarette smoke and willed his eyes to go back to being harmless and brown.

When he looked up at her, it hadn't worked, but the soft smile she offered was reassuring.

'Snow,' He greeted.

'Bigby,' She replied and sat across from him with a sigh, 'Let's cut to the chase?'

He nodded, tapped his cig over the ashtray.

'You've been different since the Crooked Man.'

Bigby scratched his chin, glancing away. This. Of course it would be this. At least Snow was speaking to him. She was watching him from across the desk, waiting for whatever it was she wanted him to say.

'Yeah,' He finally said, 'I'm sorry. Things got out of hand-. Are out of hand.'

Snow nodded, then glanced down at her watch. More of a nervous tic than checking the time. When she looked back up, she was nervous. Furrowed brow, worried blue eyes and hands held tightly together.

'I know, but Fabletown doesn't,' She swallowed thickly, 'What Greenleaf said at the trial… She wasn't wrong. They need to know you're under control and won't hurt anyone else.'

Bigby took another inhale of his fag, trying to calm the anger that surged at her words, 'Under whose control? Yours?'

'The Business Office's,' She kept cool, with crossed arms and a stony expression. But she did lean back in her seat. Scared.

She smelled scared.

He couldn't deal with this. Not now. Not ever.

Before he could do something (he didn't know what), Snow was talking again, 'I can help. It'll help with keeping you looking normal, and reassure Fabletown. And when everything's settled down in a few weeks, we can take it off, alright?'

Bigby sucked in a calming breath and smoke lazily hung around his mouth as breathed back out, dropping his cig into the ashtray as it burnt his fingers, 'It?'

'You're calm?'

He nodded. Didn't really mean it. Fuck it; curiosity killed the cat, not the dog.

Snow gave him an assessing look, then reached down to where she'd set a bag next to her chair. It wasn't unusual to see her with it, stuffed with files and memos. From it, she pulled a strap of leather, and even after inhaling a few packs of cigarettes, Bigby could smell the silver that adorned it.

The leather itself was a dark brown with runes carved into every spare inch. What wasn't covered in runes was plated with silver - even the buckle.

It took him a moment of confused staring, before the guilty look on Snow's face and what she held truly registered.

'Seriously?' Bigby couldn't hold back how his voice growled this time, 'A fuckin' collar.'

'Only for a few weeks. So that Fabletown knows we're going to do things right and that you aren't a danger.'

'I'm not a danger!'

'You were to the Crooked Man. To Georgie. To Grendel.'

'They deserved it.'

'Grendel didn't.'

Bigby snarled, crossing his arms and sitting back. Fumbled in his pocket for another fag, but his last packet was empty.

'Look at yourself, Bigby. You're scaring everyone like this. They think-...'

He glanced up sharply, 'What?'

'That the Big Bad Wolf is back. That you're… Regressing.'

'I'm not!'

Snow sighed, 'I know you're not, Bigby. It's hard to see right now but I know.'

'Hard to see-?!' He threw up his hands, but paused when he saw the claws and fur. 'Fuck,' He said, turning away from her, deflated, 'Sorry, Snow.'

'The witches said this'll help,' A dull tap as she set down the collar on his desk, 'They've been hearing about what's happened and they were already working on this when I went to ask if they could help you.'

'But a collar, Snow?' Bigby sighed, ran a hand over his face, 'A fuckin' collar.'

'There's not much of a choice. It's this or the Farm.'

'The Farm?' He snarled, whirling around to glare at her.

'I can't have you working for me if you won't follow orders, or if Fabletown even thinks you won't follow orders,' She looked away. Smelled guilty, but at least the fear was gone for now, 'It wasn't my idea, Bigby. Bluebeard is insisting that something like the Crooked Man doesn't happen again. And… I agree with him.'

'But I can't go to the Farm. You know I'm not allowed there,' He protested.

Snow smiled. A small, sour smile, 'You know how Crane was a conniving little asswipe?'

'Yes.'

'He was talking to the Farm behind everyone's backs. Setting up a place for you there. The Crooked Man was probably hoping to get you sent there sooner or later, so you wouldn't be as much of a problem.'

'I'm so glad I killed that shitbag.'

'Bigby!'

He sighed, 'I know I shouldn't have but if he was going to get Crane to ship me off to the Farm…'

Snow's face softened, 'I understand,' Then she picked up the collar, holding it out with an apologetic look, 'May I?'

'Did the witches say what it does?' He asked.

'Just that it'd help.'

Bigby studied it, then shrugged. Whatever would make Snow and Fabletown feel safe. Reassure them the Big Bad Wolf wasn't coming back. And just for a week or two? He could manage that.

'Just be quick.'

Snow nodded and smiled at him in thanks as he came over and turned round. Short as he was, there was no need to sit or crouch down.

As she set about setting the thing in place, Bigby couldn't help the low growl that wormed its way out his chest. His lips were locked tight, but his office was filled with the reverberating sound.

Then, with a snap the buckle was fastened and Snow stepped swiftly away, 'Done,' She said, voice shaky.

The room grew quiet as the growl cut off with a small cough.

Bigby turned around, reaching up to touch the collar around his neck when the room began to spin. Not much, just enough to make him dizzy. Wobbling, he grabbed onto the desk and leant against it with a groan, 'What the-'

'Are you alright?' Snow held him by the shoulder with an oddly strong grip, 'You need to sit down.'

Bigby was manhandled into a chair, but the spinning wasn't getting any better, 'You sure those witches don't want me dead?'

'Just strong magic,' Snow reassured. Her fluttering hands gave away her nerves. Nerves Bigby couldn't smell.

Strong magic indeed.

'Oh fuck,' He moaned as his head started to hurt a little less, 'I'm human.'

'What?'

'I can't smell anything,' He slowly straightened in his chair, squinting up at Snow, 'How do you cope? It's like being blind.'

'With social skills instead of sniffing peoples' arses,' She snapped back, concerned, but not enough to stop her from joking, 'You feeling better?'

'A bit,' Bigby rubbed his eyes and blinked, 'Only until things settle down?'

'Of course,' Snow sighed, 'I don't want to leash you, Bigby. You know that.'

'Yeah,' He said, reassured, 'Okay. But-'

'I promise I'll get it off you the moment I can.'

Bigby nodded, rubbed at the collar.

They sat in silence for a minute or two. Snow stood a few feet in front of Bigby, fiddling with her hands and periodically checking her watch. Thankfully she didn't seem scared. Hopefully that was behind them now.

If it took being collared and human to make Snow not be so scared of him, he'd take it. For now, he'd take it. Until he had things under control again and Fabletown was back to normal.

This was the longest they'd been in the same room since the Crooked Man. Usually she dismissed him or fled. Even right after the incident, when his eyes hadn't been too bad, she'd been nervous of him at the very least.

'Hey Snow?' He said without thinking.

She glanced up at him, from where she'd been staring sightlessly at the floor, 'Yes?'

'You've been avoiding me for weeks,' The words spilled out before he could stop them, 'You thought I was going back to… Before.'

'I-,' Snow took a deep breath, paced, 'No. I didn't think that, but Bigby. You're scary sometimes and I never saw that till now. I didn't see you like that, ever,' She glanced at him, 'I just needed some time. I've had it now, so I think we should be good.'

'You're happier now I've got this on,' He gestured to the collar, then shrugged before she could refute him, 'It's fine. Let's just forget about it.'

Snow smiled after a moment, 'We'll make Fabletown a safe and fair place, Bigby. I know we will.'

He nodded, 'Well we'll try at least.'

An eye roll from Snow and she walked to the door, 'You should get some sleep. I'm sure no-one'll mind if you take the last fifteen minutes off?'

Bigby thought about it, wrestling between his exhaustion, the wrong feeling in his whole fucking body and his duty to the title of Sheriff.

'If anyone comes by you'll get me?'

'Of course.'

He sighed, scratched his chin and stood with a wobble, 'Fine. See you tomorrow?'

Snow nodded and, with one last reassuring smile, she headed out, across the hallway and beckoned the last member of her line into the Business Office. Even with Bluebeard taking up most of her time, she still managed to see everyone most days. It was remarkable.

As the door closed, Bigby rubbed his neck. The leather of the collar was smooth, though not worn. Still new. If he could use his damned nose properly, he could tell what it was from, when it had been made. Maybe even who worked on it. Instead he settled for running his calloused fingertips over the metal and hide. Oddly, the silver didn't burn. At least one of this thing's affects wasn't awful.

With a final rub at it, he grabbed his trench coat from the hanger, threw it on. He could leave it down here, but the lapels would hide the collar and he didn't want anyone knowing about it before he got a chance to figure out how far he was affected. Was his Fable healing and strength gone, too? Or just his wolfish abilities?

Because if it was the former, he was fucked. Royally fucked.

Even after making friends (kind of) with Woody and Holly and maybe even Gren, there were plenty of other Fables who'd love to beat him to death. And without his claws and teeth, there wasn't much he could do about the stronger enemies he might face. Jersey Devil came to mind. The Tweedles. If anyone even close to Bloody Mary in strength showed up, Bigby would be absolutely fucked sideways, up the arse and into next fucking week. And so would Fabletown.

If it ever got to that, he'd talk to Snow. See about reducing the time he had to wear this damned thing.

With a nod to himself, Bigby tugged up the lapels of his coat and strode through the door, steps quick and with a purposeful gait. If anyone stopped him, got a good look… Wasn't hard to miss a silver collar, was it?

Thankfully, he made it to the lift with no problems, then he was outside his room. The smallest at the Woodlands - more an attic than an apartment, but it suited him just fine.

Shit. Collin would be in there, wouldn't he? The pink menace hadn't been sent to the Farm, and Bigby didn't have the heart to tell Snow about the pig's most recent escapade.

Fuck it. If anyone was going to know, then at least it would be a pig that no-one would believe and that Bigby could have sent off at a moment's notice.

He opened the door and strode in, swept off his trench coat and hung it up. The sound of trotters on cheap floorboards greeted him a moment later and Collin walked in.

'My, look what the dog dragged-'

Bigby crossed his arms and stared down at his roommate.

Collin wasn't one to beat around the bush, and whilst it could get annoying, his bluntness was appreciated, 'Is that a collar. Holy fuck Bigby. Is Snow into kinky shit or-'

'No,' He cut that off, 'No.'

'Kinky shit is the only reasonable explanation for a collar, Bigby,' The pig hissed, glanced around nervously and stepped closer, secretive, 'Do we need to start packing? Did-'

'No, Collin,' Bigby sighed, rubbing his face, then his neck absentmindedly, 'It's not bad.'

'Not bad?' He snorted, 'You pullin' my tail?'

Bigby glared, 'It's for Fabletown. So they trust me.'

'Fucked up kind of trust that is,' Collin raised a hoof, to try stop Bigby interrupting. Fat lot of good that did.

'I fucked up with the Crooked Man,' He moved to the fridge, reached in and grabbed a beer, 'They need to know I won't go round killing.'

'Again.'

'Fuck off.'

'If I get drunk enough, it might help me forget all the shitty shit you've done.'

Bigby glowered, but fished out another, 'You're a leech.'

'And you're a homicidal wolf.'

'Not much of a wolf anymore,' Bigby said, making his way into the living room and slumped into his chair. Even to his human nose, it stank of pig.

Collin set to work on his bottle, popping off the cap without trouble. Bigby followed suit and the two took a swig together.

'What's it do?'

He gestured at the collar, drank again, 'Strong magic. From the Thirteenth Floor.'

'Jesus, Bigby. And you agreed to that?!' Collin slumped down in his usual spot. Surprisingly, he looked worried, 'Did the Crooked Man fuck you in the head or something?'

'No, I-'

'Because you let them fucking collar you. Last time Snow tried something like that you nearly killed her.'

Bigby glared, hand tightening on his bottle. Usually, he'd be growling at this point, but the sound just wouldn't come, 'Shut up, Collin.'

The pig listened, surprisingly. He grabbed his drink between his teeth, necked half the damn bottle and set it down again, watching Bigby with those beady little eyes of his.

'Look, mate, I'm worried about you. That's all.'

'You shouldn't be.'

'Yeah fuckin' right you obnoxious bastard.'

'Fuck off. Let me sleep.'

Collin scowled, 'Fine. No wonder the only friends you got either leave or use you like a fucking hammer.'

Bigby grunted, drank the last of his beer, looked longingly at the fridge, but his legs were too tired to move, 'Leave already, then,' He slurred out, exhaustion drooping his eyelids and making his mouth uncooperative.

Just as he was dropping off, he felt the bottle being tugged from his limp hand and saw Collin's craggy face glaring up at him, 'What a twat,' The pig muttered, but Bigby was snoring before he got the second syllable out.

When he woke, it was to an insistent tugging on his trouser leg.

Bigby grumbled, squinted at his assailant.

The sun had barely risen enough to light his tiny apartment, but there was just enough to see Collin with his tusks firmly gripping Bigby's trousers.

'Oh finally!' The bastard exclaimed, noticing he was being watched, 'What, did becoming human make you deaf?'

Bigby rubbed at his face, then sat upright, cracking the crick out of his neck.

Just as he was about to start tearing into Collin, he heard the knocking on his door. Not the desperate thuds of a few weeks ago, when Faith's head had been dumped on their doorstep.

'These are my nice trousers,' Bigby groaned, checking the damage. A small hole; not too bad.

Collin snorted, 'You don't have nice trousers.'

Before he could retort, whoever it was knocked again. Bigby scratched his chin, ran a hand through his hair and sniffed himself as he got up. Not too bad, considering he'd been wearing these clothes for… Too long.

Another knock, and this time it was louder.

'Coming!' Bigby said, voice raised just enough. Adjusted his tie, pulled his shirt collar away from his neck and his fingers brushed silver.

After a moment of blankness, he turned on his heel, grabbed his trench coat. Yanked it on, shoved the lapels into place and opened the door.

Snow lowered her hand, raised a brow at his get up, 'Don't you have a radiator?'

'Yes.'

She stared a little more. Probably noticed the sleep in his eyes and rumpled shirt.

Thankfully, Collin was smart enough to keep quiet.

The silence stretched, but Bigby really wasn't good at dealing with people in the morning. Or in general.

Snow sighed after it had gone on far longer than was comfortable, 'Holly called. Woody and Grendel got in a fight, she wants you to go over.'

'Really?' Bigby groaned, rubbed at his neck, 'What time is it?'

'Six,' Snow glanced at the collar, then the lapels covering it and smiled a little, 'You can always wear a scarf if you want to hide that better.'

He stopped fidgeting with it and stuck his hands in his pockets, 'I thought you wanted people to know.'

'Doesn't need to be immediately,' She turned away from the door and Bigby followed after grabbing his ratty old scarf, 'Bluebeard pushed this, but I run the Office, not him.'

He nodded, 'What did Holly say?'

Snow sighed, 'Nothing much, but I heard yelling. You should be quick.'

'Always am,' Bigby smirked and the effect was ruined by a huge yawn. Eyes squeezed shut by it, he fumbled for the button and, after hearing the depressed little ding, mumbled out; 'How long since she called?'

'Five minutes. I came straight here.'

He could tell - bags under her eyes to rival his, crumpled clothes and slippers on her feet instead of shoes, 'You should get some sleep, Snow.'

She sighed, scrubbing at her face, 'I will when I know those two aren't going to kill each other.'

'I'll make sure they don't,' Bigby reassured, then the lift doors cranked open and they stepped inside.

The ride down wasn't exactly awkward, but after a few weeks of barely talking, it was hard to get back into the swing of things.

Snow kept shooting him glances, but without being able to smell whatever it was she was feeling, Bigby had no clue what to say.

Eventually, just as they were coming to a stop, she said, 'I know you don't like it, but we don't have a choice.'

Bigby blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. Rubbed at the collar, then wrapped his scarf around it, 'It's fine, Snow.'

She nodded but didn't look convinced.

They stepped out and Bigby walked past Grimble's sleeping form, then glanced back to see Snow watching from the lift, holding the doors open.

'It'll work out,' He offered, unsure of what to say.

She nodded again, rubbed her eyes and retreated into the lift, pushed a button and the doors closed.

Bigby sighed, shook his head and set off from the Woodlands.

It didn't take long to reach the Trip Trap. Even at arse o' clock the cabbies were still running, so Bigby didn't have too much trouble getting there.

Once he did, that was a different matter entirely.

From inside the bar, he could hear smashing and roaring, though someone was trying to talk it out. Too low to be Holly. Either Woody or Gren, and Gren wasn't the talkative type.

Bigby sighed. At least he wasn't itching for a smoke to get the stench of rubbish out of his nose.

No more beating about the bush; he headed in.

Time to get beaten to shit.

Not like he didn't deserve it, something in him whispered.

Bigby shrugged it off and shouldered through the door, stormed into the bar and raised a brow at the sight that greeted him.

Gren had foregone his glamour and had Woody by the ankle, dragging him much like he'd dragged Bigby not too long ago. This time, though, his victim didn't have claws to dig into the floor. Or the resilience to hold out against him - Woody didn't look good at all.

'-ucked Lily!' Gren was ranting, spittle exploding from his too-wide mouth, 'You rancid fucking pile of fucking shit!'

Holly had come out from behind the counter, also glamourless. Hands balled into fists and with a scowl firmly in place, 'Stop, Gren!' Then she caught sight of him and relaxed a little.

Grendel noticed, despite his vicious rage. When he saw Bigby, the Woodsman was flung away without a second thought, 'You,' He snarled.

Fuck. He was in for it now.

Even one-armed, Gren was a force to be reckoned with. Not one that would usually bother Bigby, but if it wasn't just his wolfish abilities that were gone, he'd be in serious trouble. He'd seen what happened when a Fable went after a Mundy.

'Gren, calm the fuck down,' Bigby said, raising his voice but trying to keep it calm, 'You're drunk,' It would be hard to miss the stench of hard liquor on the Fable's breath, even from a few metres away. He stank of it.

'And?' Grendel growled, stumbling a little as he stomped towards Bigby, 'That illegal now?'

'Beating on Woody is.'

'Didn't seem to stop you from ripping my fuckin' arm off,' Gren was right in front of him. Thick, warm air blew in Bigby's face. It was a suffocating mix of alcohol and blood.

Holly was glancing between them, worried. Looked about ready to jump in.

She didn't get the chance, as Gren stormed at Bigby, reaching out to grab him, claw him, smack him into the wall. He didn't get the chance, as the Sheriff jumped back, just out of reach.

No time like the present to figure out if he would die in one hit.

Gren, thankfully, didn't seem to notice any difference and kept on charging. Swinging like an ape, grabbing anything loose and hurling it. Bigby ducked, weaved. A pool cue tore through his hair, a billiard glanced across his cheek and he was sent tumbling. Reached up to touch it and his fingertips came away red.

As he got to his feet, Gren came again, bellowing fit to bring the roof down and claws at the ready. He swiped left, right. Long slashes aiming for Bigby's chest. Each talon easily long enough to tear through his ribs to his heart.

Dodging had never been his strong suit, but Bigby managed. The front of his shirt bore slashes and hung open, small scrapes oozing blood but he didn't notice. There was a pool table hurtling towards him. Instead of leaping atop it, Bigby dove to the side, only to roll away from a foot ready to smash down on his head.

He didn't want to fight. He really fucking didn't.

At least this time he wouldn't be able to lose it and rip Gren's other arm off.

He still felt bad about that.

Too late to de-escalate now, though. Another swing was coming at him. Bigby glared, ducked under it and grabbed the wrist, twisting to bring Grendel's arm over his shoulder and yanked. With a snap, he felt the bone give way.

A yowl from his opponent, followed by a kick to the back and Bigby was flung into the wall face first.

Darkness, punctuated by the stomp of Gren's feet, then air rushing. A fist slammed into his stomach and Bigby's eyes snapped open with a choking gasp, breath crashing out his mouth and refusing to come back in. He turned onto his side, spasming as his lungs refused to work. Above him, a thud and roaring.

Whatever was happening, at least it meant there wouldn't be another blow dropping on him like a ton of bricks.

Bigby finally managed to suck in a breath and he was on his hands and knees. Not exactly the best go-to pose when trying to make people forget he used to be a big, bad wolf.

A tap on his shoulder and he whirled around, stumbling to his feet, only to find Woody. Without his axe.

Bigby stared at him, fists held up in a guard for a moment, then his gaze landed on Grendel. With Woody's axe lodged in his side.

'You're welcome,' The Woodsman grumbled, glancing back at Gren.

'Yeah,' Bigby let his hands drop awkwardly to his sides, 'Thanks.'

The silence that followed was interrupted by Gren's groaning, 'The fuck you do that for, Woody?!'

'You'd have beat him half to death!' Woody snapped back, wobbling only a little as he turned around, 'He wasn't fightin'.'

Gren growled from the floor, 'Lapdog woulda deserved it.'

Woody started to storm towards the felled Fable, which was when Holly finally stepped in, towering over the lot of them and cutting a stern figure. No-one fucked with a troll.

She grabbed the axe stuck in Gren's side and yanked it out, threw it to the floor, looked over at Bigby, 'Thanks for coming, but I've got it handled.'

'No problem,' Bigby groaned, rubbing his abdomen.

They were staring at him - ranging from vaguely friendly or perhaps concerned, to Gren's death glare. Holly had quite obviously dismissed him, but Bigby was reluctant to go. Something about the Woodlands was distinctly uninviting, and he didn't want to face Snow again this early in the morning. Somehow, the Trip Trap was friendlier than his office. Brawls and all.

'I'll stay?' He said after a moment of hesitation.

They stared even more. Woody, despite having helped him against Gren, reached for his axe and looked ready to use it.

He stopped when Holly butted in, 'Yeah, sure. Just don't trash the place, okay?'

Bigby nodded, giving Grendel a wide berth as he headed to the bar.

The tension didn't leave, but with him sitting, facing away from them, it felt less like a brewing fight, more like confusion and vague discontent. Always better than violence in Bigby's book.

After scuffling and grumbling and the popping of a bone being set, Woody joined him at the bar, followed by a glamoured Gren and Holly.

Drinks were poured and knocked back before the two Fables on Bigby's side of the bar so much as glanced at him. A few minutes later Woody turned to face him, his third whiskey in hand.

'What's with the scarf,' He slurred, 'It's not that cold yet.'

Despite how stupid he looked (and acted), Woody could be an observant fuck when the mood struck him. Of course he'd decide to use his thimble-sized brain to figure out something Bigby didn't want him to.

'What's with the fight?' He retorted.

In front of him, Holly sighed and on his left, Gren shifted, 'That sick fuck was fucking Lily,' He grumbled. Necked the rest of his drink and slammed the cup down, 'That's what's up.'

Old news, but Bigby should've seen this coming. Gren was itching for a brawl at the best of times and with grief added to the mix… Fuck having a Sheriff, Fabletown needed a therapist at this rate.

Which was when Woody, far too drunk to give a shit about the very real chance of Bigby mauling his hand (human teeth or not), reached out and yanked the scarf off.

It was too early for this shit.

Gren's angry mutterings subsided, Woody froze with the ratty fabric in hand and Holly slowly set a double glass down in front of Bigby, grabbed the nearest bottle of hard liquor and poured the lot in.

'On the house,' She said. Surprisingly, she didn't seem scared. Just tired. It was a welcome change. A few weeks ago, her reaction would've been starkly different. The Crooked Man case seemed to have done some good after all.

Bigby nodded, grateful. Took a sip and relished the burn in his throat. Drinking this early wasn't good, but he was also wearing a fucking collar so he deserved to get a bit tipsy at least.

Holly was glaring daggers at Woody, who looked fit to absolutely shit himself. After a moment; 'Fuck, man. I'm sorry.'

Bigby took a sip.

On his other side, Gren was being poured another drink, 'That's magic,' He said, eying the collar.

Bigby tugged on his lapels, hiding it from sight, 'Yeah.'

Before he could speak again, he saw Holly shooting Gren a glare and silence descended again, except for sloshing of alcohol and drunken mumblings.

Perhaps he could trust them. The regulars of the Trip Trap hadn't exactly been welcoming when he came in here at the start of the Crooked Man case, but that had changed.

In the weeks since, Bigby had swung round a few times at the end of his work hours. At first they'd been wary, then he'd been allowed to sit here without challenge. Holly had stood behind him at that farce of a trial (couldn't have a trial with the suspect dead) and Woody had helped him against the Jersey Devil. Grendel, Bigby was unsure of. But they were sitting quite calmly together now, and had been a few times.

And he needed to get this off his chest to someone that wasn't an irritating pig.

'Snow put it on me,' He finally said.

Immediately, he was met by Gren wolf whistling and Woody turning to face him fast enough he almost tumbled from his chair.

'Fuck off,' Bigby grumbled, hiding his smile with his drink. It was nice to bring levity to the shitty situation he'd found himself in, even if it was mocking, 'It makes me human.'

As suddenly as they reacted, they quietened and stilled.

'Completely human?' Holly asked.

He hummed and nodded.

Gren downed his drink again, knuckles white on his cup, 'Fuck, Bigby.'

Wasn't that odd - he sounded concerned. Angry.

Woody nodded, 'I can take it off,' And he reached out, but Bigby batted him away.

'I agreed to it.'

'The fuck you did!' Gren exclaimed, turning to face him, ready to say more when Holly calmed him with a glance.

Didn't stop Woody, though, 'Why?' The Woodsman asked.

Bigby ran a hand over his face, then scratched his chin, 'Why do you care?'

'You found Lily,' Holly said with conviction. As if that was enough. As if it made up for being a big, bad wolf and tearing Gren's arm off.

But he needed friends. So he nodded, tried to hide the really fuckin' dopey smile that somehow managed to crawl onto his face for a few seconds and sipped his drink.

And because he was a soft-hearted chicken shit, he answered, 'So Fables know I'm under control. That I won't be murdering anyone.'

It hurt his throat to say.

What bullshit.

Holly sighed, 'That fuckin' sucks.'

'If you ever go back to being a mindless beast, eat Bluebeard first,' Woody tacked on.

Usually a comment like that'd get Bigby's hackles up. Especially coming from the Woodsman.

Instead he laughed. Not much more than a huff and shaking sides. Then finished his drink. When Holly went to pour another one, he shook his head, but nodded in thanks.

'We won't say anything,' She said, setting the bottle down and taking his cup, 'You're welcome here, Wolf. Remember that.'

A clap on the shoulder from Woody and an agreeing grumble from Grendle as Bigby stood to go. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded and offered a smile. Grabbed the scarf from the bar where Woody had dropped it and wrapped it round the collar.

Bigby left the Trip Trap with soft conversation murmuring; something about Gren needing to get to work and Holly bemoaning their very early morning alcoholism and Woody apologising for whatever it was the fight had been about.

Outside, the sun had risen enough to poke above the skyscrapers and the streetlights had shut off.

Time to get to work.

AN: Hope you enjoyed! If there are updates (which there probably will be cus I'm procrastinating from my Big Project) they'll be sporadic.