Okay, so, this was a PAIN to write. A lot of action and I've never done action. Then I had to try stretch it out to make it dramatic, then add drama ontop of the drama later and then I nearly hit a wall when trying to fix the end of the action sequence. But, thankfully, taking an idea from the show and running with the same logic (only make it more chaotic), I fixed that issue. I really hope this chapter turned out good. SO close to being longer than Chapter 1! Urgh! I wanted 4 and 5 to be the longest chapters but I guess this'll have to do.

So, please, do enjoy the penultimate chapter of this Grimm fairytale! (I love saying that...)

It was a funny feeling. The odd kind that is.

Being bitten.

Feeling your skin torn and your muscles screaming as something tries to wrench your arm away from your body.

Grimm had never been bitten by anything before. He'd bit his tongue but that was his limit to the experience. So to feel the jagged, unholy teeth of a monster tear into his flesh and damn near successfully rip his limb from his torso... Well, it was different. Blood gushed from the wound, a peculiar cocktail of both pain and numbness surrounding his shoulder, knowing in his heart that the bone was likely broken too. A jaw that strong, on a beast that bloodthirsty, could break through a lot stronger things than a pathetic flesh-bag's skeleton. Even Grimm had broken bones while eating his victims before, sharpening his teeth and licking out whatever juicy bits of gristle and sinew remain caught in any nooks he missed. It was damaged, that he was sure of. Though, in hindsight, he was technically lucky to only have a mauled arm. Had Benjamin not stepped in, not blown the face off of the beast chewing on his giblets, it probably would've been the death of him. He had no strength left. No inhuman powers to summon, no power to fight back, no drive to even do so, no voice in his head to take over and help save his life. For the first time in forever, Grimm had been reduced to the very thing he'd been murdering for the majority of his life. The thing he'd devoured for food. The thing he resented most in the world.

Human. With no abilities, no monster family, and no chance for survival.

So he ran.

Body numb, heart screaming, brain fried beyond all comprehension, clutching his injured arm, the former demon child spirited across the plaza, away from the battle, towards the evacuation site. His elderly companion wasn't far behind, holding back the creatures that chased them both, suddenly the only thing he could trust to keep him alive anymore... And that seemed highly unlikely. Ducking beneath the lunge of a Beowolf, Grimm stumbled with a whimper. Panicking, having never been in this position since the day of his capture, old feelings were flooding back. He'd never grown up, not truly, having had his entire life stolen from him by others. Now here, in the middle of hell, his mind had reverted. No longer was he the genocidal mass murderer. No longer was he the cannibal chewing on the remains of innocent victims. Now he was no more than a simpering child, terrified, frightened, running for his life even though he didn't feel he could. A nearby building exploded with a roar as more creatures burst from the house they'd invaded, forcing Grimm to leap out of harm's way as the old man beat the beasts back. Incapable of protecting himself, the scared blind boy continued to clatter down the street, feet hammering pavement as he desperately tried to find safety. Problem was, in this city filled with death and suffering, that wasn't going to be easy. The street became forked, a side path shooting off away from the main road, and the question of which to take was impossible to answer when being chased by unholy hell spawn that just recently ripped a chunk out of you. To his misfortune, the decision was made for him. Behind him, eager to murder Benjamin, a Boarbatusk slammed into a parked car, flinging it into the air, tossed forward and narrowly missing the boy as he slammed onto the floor. But when he heard crumbling, the car having destroyed the good front half of a bakery and a few support beams in the process, Grimm was forced to scramble to his feet and avoid being turned into a pale white pancake. Throwing his battered body out of the way, brick and mortar hammered the street and pulled him away from his companion. Not that the old coot noticed, rushing down the opposite path, focusing on the beasts attacking him.

He couldn't stay here. He couldn't stay alone. And when some of the creatures vaulted the rubble, he knew he had to get up. The road ahead of him stretched beyond several houses, curving around clusters of homes, but thankfully leading to the courtyards he was so eager to see. The idea of killing those who reached it was gone, replaced only with the desire to get out of this city at all costs. Exhausted, but pressured, he bolted forward, hissing in pain as his bloody shoulder shuddered with each step. He could hear the mixture of beasts behind him, snarling, growling, craving his flesh, lusting after their next meal, thinking nothing more beyond peeling his skin off and feasting on his corpse with unending hunger. He prayed, to anyone or anything listening, that he could find a way to fight them off. Anything to save him, anyone to pull him away from this, to wake up and find it was all a hideous dream and he was going to carry on killing humans with his inhuman family. And as he reached a curve in the path, he decided to curse whatever had answered his prayer. As whatever had had a very sick sense of humor, toying with him like this. A sudden explosion of noise behind him forced him to glance over his shoulder, stopping dead, as his eyes stretched wide in horror. Everything seemed to slow as he realized the cluster of Grimm chasing him had been flattened by a small bundle of houses being crushed within an instant, dust forced into the sky as their bodies rotted in an instant beneath the walls that killed them. But then the ground quaked, rumbling beneath a familiar rapid hammering of feet, multiple red eyes glowing in the darkness and locked onto his far smaller frame. He didn't need to watch anymore, beating an even more frantic escape now, to know what was chasing him. He didn't need to guess what wanted to kill him, didn't need to know what could destroy a building with ease, because he already knew.

And he had no plans of looking at the glowing yellow stinger of the Death Stalker either.

"SHIT! Oh fuck, oh no, no, no!" His feet was in agony as they slammed into the cement beneath, the echoing rapping of several spindly feet practically galloping after him, racing down whatever street he could find. Any Grimm stupid enough to try give chase was crushed in an instant, the huge exo-skeletal monster unwilling to share prey, but that offered little relief to the horror impaling the boy's heart. He pounced over abandoned cars, swiping to the side whenever another stray demon tried devour him, and beat a rabid retreat while increasingly aware of the irony that death was literally stalking him. But that wasn't the only thing he was aware of. All these years, he'd hunted down innocent and guilty souls alike. All these years, he's ripped out their throats, their hearts, their bones without a care, in front of their children, friends, loved ones. He'd tortured them, made them scream, watched them beg for mercy and executed them anyway. He'd force fed some to others, mocking them, laughing at their pain, and consumed them all with his darkness born brethren for fun. He'd ended so many lives. Killed so many people. And it almost always started exactly like this. Started with a chase, the thrill of tracking prey, of capturing them when they least expected it or simply couldn't run anymore. He was being forced to endure the same thing he'd subjected his own victims too. And he didn't like it. The taste of irony was a bitter one, pushing down his throat like coal, sliding down, forced down as it grew stronger, until it pressed on his heart. Till it hurt to breath, hurt to live, till all he could feel was a horrid pain within him, till it felt like hooks were anchoring inside of him, tugging, yanking, ties that bound him to his past, to his sins, to every unforgivable act of evil he'd committed the entire of his new inhuman life. And it kept pulling and pulling till he wanted to scream, wanted to allow the giant creature hounding him to slice through him with its mighty claws, wanted to tear out his own throat and let his own blood drowned the pain out of him, till all that was left was an empty husk and nothing more could be felt, nothing more could hurt, till every inch of his body was rid of his horrible, rancid, sickening, twisted, fucked up feeling within the very depths of his heart!

Guilt. It was a painful burden to bear. And his burden was endless.

But yet, he still ran. Ran like the wind, blood pouring down his arm, panting and huffing, no longer able to feel any inch of his body. Adrenaline had been the only thing left inside of him for a long time now, keeping him going but running out oh so rapidly. And to his horror, having raced around the swerve in the street he sped upon and dared to look back, he found it still wasn't enough. The supersized creature was still keeping up with him, having even gained ground, and he was still a distance from his haven. He tried again, taking the next corner at record speed for a human, but found he was now only a fraction out of reach from the fatal sting of his pursuing nightmare. By the time he finished the third turn, he was now having to dodge the infuriated snaps and stabs of the creature, practically ontop of him now. Only, this time, he finally knew why. Every house, every store, every car, cart, van, bicycle, anything he'd been running around, the Death Stalker had simply plowed right through. Bricks, steel girder, it was nothing in the many eyes of the death. He'd been taking the long route, assuming it would follow, but it never had. Destruction was easier, barely slowing it down, and if he attempted to do the same this time it would easily be able to catch him miles from the gate. The only answer was to do the same, to go straight through the buildings however he could. He didn't have the strength to smash through walls, that was obvious, but he had speed. And that could be enough. So, upon reaching the final twist of the street, leaping away from a stinger jabbing for his heart, he threw his body forward and through the solid glass of a window.

Hurdling dining room chairs, feet clapping on the oak beneath him, and bolting into the next room, he could hear the building crumble behind him, forcing himself to move faster. Through the kitchen, the sound of scraping metal deafening him, out a door left open in haste, across the alley dividing the two buildings, and into another home. Over a clawed sofa, mauled and blood stained, away from the falling ceiling, he jumped an overturned table as the walls collapsed around him, pictures from the pasts of others shattering as they fell, and bursting up the stairs in front of him, each one turned to splinters in his wake, leaping, flying almost, through the first window he could find and flinging himself off of the car bonnet he landed on before it was all crushed beneath the raging hell after his life. He couldn't stop, everything he'd just done making his body scream in pain but the gate being so close, so very, very close! But then his heart sank as he realized, mere minutes from the safety he wanted to reach so badly, that there was a serious problem. The gate was wide, big enough for his pursuer to fit, and a very real problem if it did. He couldn't fight it, not in his current state, and wouldn't have enough time to shut the gate given it was right behind him. Even if he could, it's likely just break through given enough time. It was a Death Stalker after all, it was a literal monster in size alone. After all this effort, all this time, all this pain, it all seemed so pathetically hopeless. That was until he spotted something glinting above. Something that gave him a slither of hope.

It was a portcullis. Not a wooden gate.

The inner most walls near Beacon surrounded it's communication tower, which would naturally be one of the most precious locations and thus defended at all costs. Wooden gates weren't enough, things needed to be... Medieval. Strong, jagged metal lattice hung in two places within the gate's solid stone skin, metal that could prove to be the only way for Grimm to get away from death itself. It was stupid, insanely stupid, to consider what he did. But, that said, suicidally stupid plans always had a habit of working out for him in the past... A bench, a crashed van, the gate itself, it was all he needed to form his plan. The kind of plan that either succeed perfectly or killed you, especially considering he'd now be bait as oppose to someone trying to merely flee. He bounded out of the way of a claw, skipped past a thrust of a stinger, and escape the crushing grasp of the other pincer before rushing towards the gate, leaping onto the bench, firing himself off it and onto the van and launching himself into the air to escape the snapping grip of the exo-skeletal monster... But not out of range of the stinger. As planned, it stabbed for him, charging forward as he fell towards the gate, but narrowly missed, tearing the hem of his already demolished chest garments as it did. Grimm slammed into the solid stone of the floor, crying out in pain as he felt yet more bones fracture, as the glowing tip of the beast became lodged in the portcullis. It thrashed frantically, trying to escape, trying to kill the human it was chasing, but only succeed in destroying the chains that held up the cold metal gate, forcing blunt spears of steel to slam into its skull. The pale skinned boy crawled back as it grew more frenzied, claws lashing out at anything at all, tail snapping rapidly to try dislodge itself, cracking and breaking the walls around it. That was his sign to run, somehow climbing to his feet and stumbling out of the gate house as it collapsed around him, evading slabs of rock smashing beside him. The beast didn't have the same luck, thrusting into the metal over and over, thrashing, flailing, trying to escape, to kill, to destroy, only to have the entire weight of the building collapse down upon it, the second gate slamming into the first, like a hammer on a nail, bi-secting its head clean from its body. Exhausted, collapsing to the floor, Grimm gasped for air. His body was cut in countless places from the glass, he had bruises in bad places, broken bones he could feel resenting him, and clothing so tattered and bloody he'd need to find replacements for when he could finally move. But he was alive. He'd done it.

The Death Stalker was dead.

He rose, clawed hands yanking off the remains of his shirt, exposing the ghostly scarred flesh he'd covered up for so long, and tried to stand. Limping, so tired, beyond injured, but alive, he struggled forward and deeper into the courtyards. I... I did it... I got here... I'm safe! He chuckled weakly, relief flooding his system, forgetting, just for a while, about all the pain he felt within his heart. A brief respite in this nightmare he'd woken in. He didn't want to guess how much blood he'd lost, how beaten his skeleton was, how many nightmares he'd endure after this or how to piece his life back together... He just wanted to enjoy the moment. To smile knowing he'd be okay for a time, even if it would all come crashing down soon. Knowing that, even as a human, he still could survive. It was a bizarre warm flutter inside of him, to feel proud of himself for this reason, and he cherished it. He hobbled along, fatigued but washed over by a fuzzy glow, and allowed his eyes to roll shut, just enjoying the sound of silence for the moment. But then the voice came back, the one that had invaded his mind, told him to follow Benjamin, made him feel all he had... And it was clearer than ever before.

Pain. It's what I felt. I lost my husband. Lost my child.
The roses are gone now too. My house. My home.
Everyone's in pain. Everyone's suffering.
The Grimm are hurting them. Those terrorists are hurting them!
It's time you understand! Time for you to feel like they do!
Open your eyes and witness the pain of your people!

Blind eyes snapping open, his body was struck with endless agony, a symphony of lives flooded his mind. A family hiding as White Fang gunned down their friends outside, teenager boy crying as his heart breaks and begs for her to be saved, a child begging for their father to wake up, a limb sliced off by a heartless terrorist, a man screaming in tears as his wife is ripped apart by Grimm, a soul unprepared for death but so willingly embracing her horrible fate, more and more lives flooded his mind to the point he felt like he was screaming. All the memories he'd been forced into before, all the pain he'd felt getting to this point, all seemed hollow in comparison to feeling the anguish of every single soul in the city. Vale was SCREAMING in pain, thousands of lives either ending or being destroyed, and he could hear them ALL! Every man, every woman, every child, screaming, suffering, crying, dying inside as they watched their world burn, their friends die, their loved ones disappear, everything was chaos! Chaos HE'D played a part in, chaos he'd once enjoyed and inflicted on so many people before!

"No! No, no, no! Stop it! STOP IT! I don't- I don't want to feel this! I DON'T WANT TO ANY OF THIS!"

Open your eyes!

"STOP IT!"

See the pain of these people!

"PLEASE!"

Hear how their hearts scream together!

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!"

...And all was silent once more, as if stilled by the scream for mercy that torn at his throat. Grimm stood there, trembling, choking back sobs, staring up to the heavens as his head was thrown back from his plea. Collapsing to his knees, his hands clung to his face, voice wavering. "I... I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I..." Slowly pulling his palms away, he glanced to his claws, shuddering, tears threatening to fall, as his breath caught in his throat. "...What have I become...? I just... I wanted to be a hero, to make my dad proud, to stop people going through what I did and I... I'm a killer! A fucked up psychopath! I fucking ATE people! I'm not a hero! I'm not! I-I just...!" Gripping his lengthy locks, he yanked on his hair, wrestling to keep himself from a breakdown. After all the years of surviving, all the years of having that other voice guide him to safety, Grimm had finally seen himself for what he truly was: A monster. A hideous freak of nature that had only ever harmed or killed others. The thick veil of darkness over his mind had finally been destroyed... And he hated what truth he saw beneath it. He felt sick. Sick enough that he couldn't help himself expelling the grizzly content of his stomach onto the cobbles beneath him, chest burning, unable to stop himself shivering. He knew he could never make up for all the deaths he'd caused, never repent for his sins, never return the lives he'd taken, the ones he'd cut short. Had it all been revenge on humanity for what the bastards who tortured him had done? Or was his naturally twisted? Did he really want all of this, deep down, or had he been a puppet to something far sinister? Just as it felt like he couldn't fend of his tears anymore, he was startled by a sudden voice from behind.

"Lazarus... What are you doing?"

The old man was alive. Pushing himself to his knees, Grimm looked back, the pensioner no worse for wear beyond a few scratched and stains on his clothes, a stern and questioning look on his face. Wiping whatever was left on his lip, the pale boy slowly stood up. "I was... I er... Just resting." His answer was met with a raised brow, clearly not being believed, as he slowly wobbled his way deeper into the courtyard. "Resting? While kneeling over a puddle of vomit? Either you're very troubled or not telling me the truth." It was funny how he knew this was a lie, yet not the entire ordeal so far. Fingers stroking over his scalp, Grimm gave a sigh, too exhausted to pretend anymore. "I just... Everything just sunk in. All the death, the chaos, all these people just... Suffering. It's... It's just wrong." Voice barely just above a whisper, he found he couldn't find his usual uncaring tone anymore. This was all so horribly serious now, a state of mind he'd never found himself in before. "No matter what we do, no matter if we get to the evacuation point or not, people will die. Even if we save some, others are already lost. And even if we saved everyone, the scars of tonight will still linger with them! There's no way of escaping the pain, no way of freeing them from it all, and it'll be a blight on their past till the day they die!" He didn't know how anyone could live like this. Live remember it all, carrying their guilt, their pain, hearts and minds and souls scarred time after time. Being human... It was a terrible infliction upon all living creatures. "I just... Don't see any happy ending to this. It's all so hopeless-" The ground beneath them rumbled as a roar echoed through the sky, the seemingly endless shadow of a Grimm he'd never seen before flying overhead. Was that... A DRAGON!? And it had headed right towards where the evacuation was supposed to be, towards the tower, dropping off more Grimm as it did! If anyone was there, they'd be overrun. And if no one was there, then the evacuation would fail before it began! He didn't want to see, to feel, anymore pain tonight, he just wanted it to all end! Even in his current state, he couldn't just stand by anymore. Not after everything he'd suffered... "Benjamin, did you see that!? That thing is going to kill everyone at the evacuation, we have to do something!" He tried to rush forward, as quickly as an severely injured man could, desperate to try save the lives of any unfortunate soul who was promised safety beneath the overgrown reptile, when he was stopped dead in his tracks. "I'd worry more about yourself, Lazarus." The way his name had been said should've told him something was wrong... Turning around, disbelieving, unwilling to accept this man would so willingly abandon people he himself had proclaimed he'd go help, Grimm moved to argue with the old bastard.

Only to find a revolver held an inch from his face.

"What... What do you think you're doing!?" Was this a game? Did he lie, just need someone to get to the evacuation too? Did he want to get something out of him? Money? Drugs? A patsy for something? All the old man did was smirk, giving a short huff as he did. "You really are stupid, aren't you? Is Lazarus even your real name or did you think you could lie to me?" Grimm stepped back, questioning, confused, breathing heavy as panic set in. He knew?! How did he know!? And if he did, why did he agree to let him come anyway? "Wait, hold on, what about the evacuation!? They need us, you said so yourself, you-" A sudden loud bark of a laugh cut him off, the hammer of his pistol cocked back as a grin spread across his face. "There is no evacuation! I only told you that because I wanted to get you hear alone! To make you suffer for what you did because, no matter how much you lie, no matter how you try to twist the truth, I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" It seemed wrong, seeing the old coot screaming at him, rage flooding his normally stoic features. Who did he think he was? Did he know who Grimm really was? What he'd done? Was he related to someone he killed? That didn't make sense, otherwise he'd know Grimm could've killed him on the spot early, before his powers were ruined. There was too many questions, not enough time, not enough to put together to explain why this man was about to shoot him! He'd never met this man, he was sure of that, but that was it. Why was he so angry, so eager to kill a perfect stranger, and go to all this length to kill him alone? Another step back, only this time the furious elder step forward to match. "...How? How do you know who I am? I've never met you, how could you possibly know me!?"

The bitterness of the chuckle that followed added a strange sense of dread to the entire matter. Like a noose was being wrapped around his neck and he couldn't stop it. A car crash waiting to happen. "Oh... We've met. You just don't remember me. You see..." Benjamin's face fell, a resentful stare locked into Grimm's white eyes, his voice becoming a growl. And the second he spoke, Grimm's world self-destructed...

"I'm your father."

So... Hands up, anyone see any of this coming? Very Darth Vader, I know, but it'll all be fleshed out in the next chapter. Also, surprise! I popped a few references into the story to give you a time frame of when it happened: Three of the things what Grimm felt occurred in series 3. Furthermore, the dragon also appeared... Though I worry the dragon came after Cinder and Pyrrha began fighting... In which case, my story's a little off factually. Either way, I promised to make it canon-friendly. The evacuation was a fake, thus it never appears in the main series, thus all of this is able to occur outside of the canon's lens! Well, sometimes you get tired of writing AUs and fluff pieces after something's ended, I figured it's about time my stories have a heartbeat. And provided I never write anything that clashes with the main story (e.g. Ruby meeting Grimm), then I get the free fuzzy feeling of knowing my story is alive and not just fanfiction. A different story in the same world, just like how the real world works!

Anyway, I really hope you guys are loving this, it feels awesome seeing people follow this, and stay tuned for the final chapter of When I Fall! Needless to say, pasts will be revealed, chaos will happen, truths will come out, and some more curve balls are heading your way! Stick around!