A/N: Thanks everyone who commented on my first chapter. I'm glad you're all enjoying it. The fun continues in this chapter and in typical fashion, I'll need another chapter to get this bad boy done.

Hope you enjoy all the bromancing. ;) And thanks again for reading. :D

Chapter Two

Nick opened the door and smiled in relief. "Thanks for coming, Hank."

"I get a call from my partner in the middle of the night about some kind of mysterious going ons in the woods and you know I've got questions." Hank walked past him into the house.

"Sorry to be so vague," said Nick as he closed the door. "I didn't want to go over it on the phone."

"Worried I wouldn't come?"

Nick grimaced. "The thought had occurred." He swept a hand towards the kitchen. "He's in here."

They walked into the kitchen to find Monroe sitting at the kitchen table, his chair side on to the table. "Oh hey, Hank," he greeted him casually. Monroe looked between them. "I guess the Scooby gang is on the case, huh?"

Hank arched an eyebrow. "You do realise there wasn't a lot of skin colour variation going on with that particular team, right?"

"Scooby was brown," pointed out Monroe.

"I'm not Scooby," said Hank flatly. "If anyone's Scooby, it's you."

"Why, because I'm a Blutbad?" asked Monroe indignantly.

"Got it in one."

Monroe pouted. "Blutbad's aren't dogs."

"They're closer than humans," shot back Hank.

"Alright, fine, you can be Fred."

Nick held up a hand. "Wouldn't I be Fred?"

"Velma," replied Monroe and Hank as one.

"Velma?" repeated Nick, caught off guard. "Why am I Velma?"

"Because you're the shortest," reasoned Hank.

Monroe wiggled a finger at his head. "And you've got the floppy hair."

Nick scowled at them both. "I don't have floppy hair and I'm 5 11', that's not short."

"We didn't say you were short," said Monroe reasonably, "we said you were the shortest of the three of us."

"It's not my fault that you two are abnormally tall," said Nick in annoyance. He shook his head. "Okay, enough, let's circle the wagons here and get this back on track. We've got a problem here and we need to work out how to fix it."

Monroe looked at Hank, his tone conspiratorial. "That's soo what Velma would say." Hank's lips twitched.

Nick gave them a look of ire. "My desire to help you out of this predicament is rapidly fading, Monroe."

"Sorry, man," said Monroe, feigning chagrin as he started to tap his fingers on the table.

"And what are we helping Monroe with exactly?" asked Hank, looking between the two men.

"Monroe's come in contact with some kind of pheromone which is stirring things up in him," explained Nick.

Hank sent Monroe a wary look. "Wolf-like things?"

Monroe's right leg was beginning to jiggle up and down with nervous energy. "Yeah, but you know, I've been thinking about it, Nick, and I don't think I'm all that affected." The jiggling of his knee was becoming more violent. A fact which Monroe seemed oblivious to. "I've been vegan for a lot of years now. That blood lust is complete history to me."

Hank looked worried. "Blood lust?"

Monroe looked up at him, his leg jiggling so badly now it almost looked like it had a mind of his own. "Maybe a lesser Blutbad would be feeling the side effects the pheromones, but I've worked really hard to achieve this Zen-like state." His leg was bouncing around uncontrollably, fingers drumming a noisy pattern on the table top.

"I think your Zen needs a little top off," noted Hank sceptically.

"What do you mean?" asked Monroe innocently.

Nick pointed to his leg. "I think Hank means that."

Monroe looked down at his leg and his face registered surprise at seeing the wayward limb. He slapped his hand down over the top of it to stop the jerky movements. Monroe gave a strained smile. "But then again, it never hurts to be safe rather than sorry."

"Okay," said Hank slowly. "So, what's the deal here? What do we do to fix this?"

"There's a neutralising agent to the pheromone," explained Monroe.

"Great," said Hank, "let's go and get it."

Nick moved a little restlessly. "It's not that easy."

Hank grimaced. "It never is. What's the problem?"

Monroe's hand was tapping again. "The neutralising agent is a really specific one. You can only get it from one person here in Portland and that's the Luder."

"The Luder?" repeated Hank.

"She's an old woman who lives out on the edge of town," Nick filled in. "I have to go to her and get the antidote."

"Why does it have to be you?"

Monroe made a face. "The Luder isn't a fan of Blutbads."

"Why isn't she a fan of Blutbads?"

"One of us may or may not have eaten her husband," admitted Monroe. He wrinkled his nose. "And her foot."

"You ate her husband and foot?" asked Hank in horror.

"Not me, man," said Monroe defensively. "It was way before my time but the Luder, she holds a grudge. She wouldn't spit on one of us if we were on fire."

Nick picked up the story. "But apparently she likes Grimms."

Monroe nodded eagerly. "She loves Grimms because they kill Blutbads and bits of them are useful to her in her work."

Nick looked at him askew. This was news to him. "Excuse me? Which bits?"

Monroe shrugged. "You know, the Luder is into all the old medicines."

"Like what you and Rosalee do in the Spice shop?" Nick quizzed him.

Monroe pursed his lips. "Not exactly. The Luder dabbles in some of the blacker arts. It's a 'where angels fear to tread' kinda deal."

Hank looked concerned. "Can we trust her?"

Monroe threw his head back and laughed. "No." He became abruptly solemn. "Seriously, dude, don't trust her. She's a big ol' bag of cats crazy."

"Then why am I going to her for help if she's so insane?" asked Nick, brow wrinkling with worry.

"She's got the only supply of iberis root in town," explained Monroe. "And that's the neutralising agent we need."

"And you still haven't said what bits of a Grimm she's interested in," Nick prompted him. He'd do a lot for a friend, but he wasn't about to start leaving body parts all over town.

"Elements of Grimms have mystical powers when it comes to some of the dark arts." Monroe was fidgeting in his seat. "You know, a lock of hair, a fingernail, a puff of breath, that kind of stuff."

Hank pulled a face. "Can she use these things to hurt people?"

"That's really not what the Luder is about," clarified Monroe. "It's more that a lot of Wesen come to her for in-house problems."

Hank and Nick shared a look. "Such as?" Nick queried.

Monroe stood up and started to pace, clearly becoming more agitated with all of the questions. "I don't know, like a Klaustreich needing a love potion or a Stangebär looking for a way to make their quills poisonous, or a Hundjäger looking for a revivication spell." He waved his hands around. "You know, stuff."

"Revivication?" repeated Hank. "What's that?"

"You know, raising the dead." Monroe looked nervous. "It's not recommended. Those things never go well."

"She can do that?" asked Hank in horror.

"I don't know if the Luder can do that, but I know her kind have in the past." Monroe was kind of jiggling on the spot now, becoming more animated. "Cute fact, you know that whole little Red Riding Hood story which gets handed around?"

Nick was watching Monroe with concern, as he was clearly becoming more overtaken by the affects of the pheromones.

Monroe seemed oblivious to the way both Hank and Nick were looking at him as he continued with his story. "Well, the truth of it is that, back in the day, little Red had gone to someone like the Luder and gotten herself a revivication potion for her recently deceased Grandmother. Only, turns out, newly re-animated Grandma had lost some social graces with the whole being dead thing. An innocent Blutbad turns up at her door, looking for directions and Grandma tries to eat his face off. He reacts in self-defence and then some Grimm bursts in, gets the wrong idea and hacks the poor guy to pieces." Monroe scratched absently at his face. "It's why we Blutbads don't like to ask for directions as a rule. Kind of a cultural thing."

Hank was looking more than sceptical. "So, you're telling me the little Red Riding Hood story actually happened, but the bad guy was Grandma and the wolf was the innocent victim?"

"Hey, man," said Monroe, starting to scratch himself all over now, "history is written by the winners. Of course the Grimm was going to make the Blutbad into the bad guy."

"And that's what constitutes a cute story in your book?" asked Hank in disbelief. "Zombies and dismemberment?"

"One of the definitions of cute is ugly but interesting," Monroe defended his story. "That fits." He looked at Nick. "So, are you going to do this little favour for me or not? I've got things I wanted to do tonight, like fix another squirrel trap."

"I'm going to do it," said Nick quickly. "I just like to know what I'm walking into."

"It's nothing," said Monroe dismissively. "The Luder is a tiny little old woman. You'll be fine."

Nick looked at Hank. "And you'll be okay keeping an eye on Monroe."

Hank looked at the way Monroe was starting to sweat, eyes darting back and forward nervously as he danced from foot to foot. "Oh yeah, this looks like it's got all the ingredients of a fun evening."

"Okay, so, we're good to go then." Monroe turned to Nick with some final words of advice. "The Luder always wants something in return for her help. Just give her whatever she wants." Monroe stopped pacing and waggled a finger at him. "But not your blood. You can't ever give her any of your blood. You can do some really powerful black magic with blood from a Grimm, so you can't ever do that, okay? It's really important you remember that."

"Let's see," said Nick mockingly, "it'll be a struggle, but I guess I can remember not to give the insane, old woman living in a hut in the forest any of my blood. Obviously it's going to go against that instinct I have to give it away by the bucket load."

Monroe sighed. "I haven't had a bucket load of blood in so long." He looked suddenly nostalgic. "There used to be this place out on Route 30, you could get a bucket of blood and plate of onion rings that were to die for."

Hank made a disgusted face. "I could have gone my whole life and never known that and died a happy man."

Nick frowned. "What kind of blood are we talking here? Human?"

"Look, we don't have time for this," said Monroe impatiently. "Stop being delicious and go and get the antidote."

Nick's eyebrow shot up. "Delicious?"

Monroe looked at him blankly. "What?"

"You said I was being delicious."

"No, I didn't. I said stop being difficult."

"No, you didn't. You definitely said delicious."

Monroe looked worried. "I did?"

"You did."

He nervously scratched his stomach. "The effects of the pheromones must be spreading."

"We assumed," said Hank, looking him over.

To Nick he looked like a junkie jonesing for his next fix. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with this?" he asked Hank.

"I'm a trained professional police officer," said Hank calmly. "If it gets bad, I'll shoot him."

"What?" squeaked Monroe.

"I was kidding," Hank said and then turned back to Nick and gave him a look which said he wasn't kidding.

This didn't make Nick feel any less anxious about the situation. "Okay, no one is going to be shooting anyone because I'm going to get the cure now and then everything is going to be fine. You just have to hang out for an hour, stay calm and I'll be back. Can you do that?"

"I can," said Hank, giving Monroe a pointed look.

Monroe's head was bobbing up and down. "Yeah, yeah, totally, dude, Hank and I'll spend some time getting to know each other a little better. It'll be great." He gave Nick an emotional look. "Thanks for doing this, man," said Monroe gratefully. He engulfed Nick in a hug.

Nick patted him on the back a little awkwardly. "It's fine. That's what friends do." Monroe wasn't letting him go, still holding onto him tightly. The sound of sniffing was in Nick's ear and he tensed. "If you lick me again," he warned Monroe hotly, "I'm shooting you in the foot."

Monroe abruptly let go and took a quick step back. "I wasn't going to lick you."

"There's licking now?" asked Hank in distress. "No one mentioned licking." He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Always read the small print before signing on the dotted line, Hank, always read the small print."

"There is going to be no licking, shooting or anything else bad happening tonight," said Nick, trying to sound more confident then he felt. "I'm going now, you two, play nicely together and I'll be back before you know it." With a last encouraging smile at the other two men, Nick hurried out the door, heading to his car. He had the address Monroe had given him and knew how to get there. Nick cast a concerned look at Monroe's house before he climbed into the car. This was going to be fine. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Nick quickly put his car in gear and drove away before he could answer his own question.

The lull before the storm...