midnight141 – I've been planning on doing a one-shot Seblaine tied into the epilogue of this. Hopefully, I'll be able to write it in such a way that it can stand alone.

aunthay – Moo Cow was created as an amalgamation of my two cats; Moo for my baby boy, Cluie and Cow for my little girl, Piglet. Cluie was sadly diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few days after the first Moo Cow chapter was posted. He had to be put down two weeks later. I'm glad you enjoy Moo Cow so much; the real Moo was my best friend and had been for eleven years.

xoxoxo

"I don't get it, why would he say something like that? Wolf's a puppy. He's more of a puppy than Alex half the time! He'd never hurt a fly!" Kurt, Burt, Carol, Finn, Paul and Alex were all in the living room of the Hummel-Hudson household. David had used his "one call" to get in touch with his father; he knew his father would need to ask less questions than Kurt or anyone else. He was also afraid of the judgment, anger, or disappointment he was sure to hear in Kurt's voice. Paul had contacted each of the Hummels and told them to meet him at their house.

Once they were all there, sans David, Paul had broken the news to them. David had turned himself in at the police station, confessing to murder. Kurt had immediately started freaking out, not giving Paul a chance to explain. Paul, used to David's occasional rants, sat quietly, waiting for Kurt to run out of things to say so Paul could input. "The worst I have ever seen Wolf was when he found out I was dating David. He threw a little hissy-fit. That's it. He didn't hurt anyone and he kind of had justification to be pissed. Why would he hurt someone?" Alex sat in Burt's lap, whimpering softly at his father's anger. The pup knew something was wrong, but wasn't sure what. Kurt, hearing the quiet sound of anguish from his son, scooped him up and cradled him close to his chest, having to shift him frequently to keep his grip on him; the five-month-old was nearing twenty pounds.

As Kurt soothed his son, Paul spoke up. "The first time David changed, we were still in complete denial. We had no idea what to expect. We hoped if we pushed it out of our minds, nothing would happen. And we couldn't exactly go online and look up what to expect. The Patriot Act was in full swing at that time; you never knew where or when you were being monitored by the Feds. When David first changed, he was terrified. He remembers everything that happened that night, but he had no control over himself. The wolf acted exactly as you'd expect a wild animal trapped inside to act; he threw himself against the walls and doors, ran into things in his blind panic. I wasn't afraid for myself; but I was terrified he'd hurt himself. I let him outside. He ran off. Around dawn, I went outside to search for him. I found him just as the sun was starting to come up. He was covered in blood. He told me he had eaten someone."

"And you never told anyone?!" Finn jumped up, startling Alex (and Moo Cow who had been wedged in between Carol and Finn on the couch). "Someone is dead because of David and you continued to let him go outside on the full moon? What the hell were you thinking?"

Paul had never stopped feeling guilty about that decision, but he didn't need Finn to remind him of how ashamed he should be. Even still, he kept his calm. "David had no control over what happened, why should he suffer for something that wasn't his fault? My wife was the fifteenth person killed by the werewolf that bit David. He was still at large. He bit David; he's the reason David killed that man. As far as I'm concerned, that man's death is the first werewolf's fault. He should be the one to pay for the murder; not David. As for Wolf still being allowed outside – the first time that David changed, he went insane with confusion and fear. After that…the wolf was calm so long as it could be outside. He never came home with any sign of having hurt anyone. No other people went missing. Yes, I feared for a long time that he would do something bad; but, like Kurt, I've come to trust Wolf. He isn't violent."

xoxoxo

He didn't belong here. This was the complete opposite of where a fashionable, sensible, intelligent boy like Kurt should be. Yet, here he was, getting escorted by an armed guard to a visitation area. The prison was everything you were trained by pop culture to expect of one; it was largely concrete, brick, and other dingy materials that seemed to absorb the dull, industrial lighting. Much of what should have been white in the building had turned to a drab grey or dirty yellow. Graffiti was apparent on some of the walls, either poorly covered up or simply left alone. If this was how "lovely" they kept the public section of the Ohio State Penitentiary, Kurt could only imagine how gross and dank the inmate section of the prison must be.

The officer – whose name Kurt didn't quite catch – temporarily completed his job as escort and left Kurt sitting in a small cubicle that faced a counter and glass window. That's as close as he'd be able to get to David; they could sit merely two feet from each other, but wouldn't be able to touch in anyway shape or form. It was kind of painful to be able to get so close to his love, without going all the way.

It took what felt like an eternity, but at long last, a door on the other side of the glass opened and an armed guard entered into the room. He was dressed differently than the other guards Kurt had seen. The other guards looked like typical cops: cops that might pull you over and give you a speeding ticket, or control the crowds at a high school football game. This particular guard was dressed like S.W.A.T. He carried a rifle of some kind – an assault rifle if the pictures that often accompanied sensationalist news stories about shootings were to be believed. To compliment his rifle, he wore the full face-shield Kurt usually only saw on police during riots. His black clothes were heavy and thickly woven, probably meant to act as body armor in addition to the large bulletproof vest he wore over his regular uniform. The patches adorning his uniform were different as well. The red cross of St. George was sewn to his shoulders.

He was a slayer.

Not a Federal Slayer, but a state one. The uniform of a Federal Slayer was almost iconic, they were featured in so many movies about monsters, terrorists, and psychopaths. Federal Slayers wore black, from head to toe. Their typical wear was a black suit, with black shirt, and black tie; the only color in their uniform came from the red cross and white background on the shield that symbolized their profession. Their "combat attire" was black and grey camouflage mixed with differing shades of dark green and brown. It was intended for hunting unhumans through Red Zones in the dark of night, though they still wore it even if their target was running lose in an urban area or the middle of a desert.

David followed just behind him, and another slayer came in behind David. Kurt wanted to jump up at the sight of David, but was afraid that moving quickly around so many heavily armed, carefully trained officers would be a foolish idea.

David appeared pale and sickly. His eyes were drooping with heavy bags beneath them. He obviously hadn't been sleeping well. He shuffled along slowly between the two guards, and not only because his ankles were shackled together; he seemed to have much of the life drained from him. Kurt absently wondered if he'd picked a fight with a vampire – David still didn't care for vampires, even as his opinions on werewolves gradually changed. The shackles that bound David's ankles together were connected to a second chain that ran up to his waist and connected to a large chain about his waist. From there, the chain travelled up his torso and connected to a second set of shackles that bound his wrists together.

David looked like he was on death row.

David sat down slowly in front of Kurt, but didn't dare look at him. He was so ashamed. Kurt choked back a sob seeing the father of his baby look like this. "Orange doesn't look good on anyone. Them making you wear that…it's almost a crime, itself." Kurt tried to force out a laugh, but it caught in his throat, like a heavy lump. "I can't believe they put you in Youngstown. It's…it's a ridiculously long drive. Three and a half hours…traffic wasn't too bad though. I tried to listen to an audio book – Alice in Wonderland – but after the hundredth time she decided to eat any random food she found lying around, I couldn't take it anymore." Despite the obvious nervousness that leaked out in Kurt's halting words, the forced nonchalance of Kurt's talking soothed David's fear enough for him to look up at Kurt, all his pain, regret, and sadness shining in his eyes. "Is it like in the movies? I used to watch Oz every now and then…it's not like that, is it? Or Shawshank Redemption?"

"I…I don't know. They don't…" David looked over his shoulder at the two guards that had accompanied him. They kept their rifles up and diagonal across their chests; they would only have to swivel slightly to train the sights on David, if necessary. "I'm not in the 'general population.' They moved me here because most jails…most prisons aren't equipped to secure a supernaturally strong unhuman. These shackles," David held his hands up, as though Kurt hadn't already seen the shackles. "They're made of something called 'maraging steel'. They're strong enough to hold just about any kind of unhuman. They have me in a special cell…like solitary, kind of, that's also super-strong. I don't know what it's made of, though. Burt and Ernie, behind me," David nodded his chin over his shoulder, indicating the two guards, "they bring me my food. This is the first time I've left my cell since I got here two days ago."

"This is ridiculous. They could have kept you closer to home until the full moon. That would have given us another week, together, near home. You aren't strong enough to break metal. Only during the full moon."

"Some werewolves can change anytime they want."

"Not you, though."

"Yeah, Kurt, there are some professions – military, TSA, prison guard, lawyer, judge – where you just don't take people's word for it. I…I can't be angry at them for treating me like this. I deserve it."

Kurt frantically shook his head. "No…no you don't. You shouldn't…you shouldn't have even said anything." Kurt's voice raised and cracked slightly in his anger. His eyes were starting to look red; they always did that just before he started crying.

David was somewhat shocked at Kurt's statement. He had expected Kurt to be angry at him for killing someone, not for turning himself in. "I had to. I murdered someone Kurt. His family probably has no idea whatever happened to him. I have to give them closure and face whatever justice the government deems necessary."

Kurt was starting to get pissed; there were so many things he just wanted to scream at David. "His family? What about your family? His family has dealt with him being gone for eight years. How is you going to prison going to help anyone? And justice my ass! You're an unhuman. The government isn't going to want justice; they're going to want blood."

"I took someone's life, Kurt. His family has to know what happened to him. They have to know where he's been the past eight years."

"Well, you don't have to worry about Alex questioning where you are, because he'll know exactly where you are for the next twenty years to life… if you don't get the death penalty." Kurt snorted indignantly and said, more to himself, than to David, "There isn't a state in the union, or country in the world that has taken the death penalty off the plate for unhumans."

"Kurt…I love you, but I had to do what was right. I've spent half my life hating unhumans, thinking all of them villainous murderers and rapists and sociopaths. If I didn't turn myself in, for what I did – after all, you're always trying to convince me that I am Wolf, and we don't just happen to share the same body – then I'd be proving my suspicions about unhumans correct, at least as far as I'm concerned."

Kurt shook his head mournfully, trying to accept the fact that after finally getting Alex's father in the picture fulltime, he was losing him for good. "This wasn't the right thing to do David. You aren't helping anyone. You can't do anything to bring him back. All you've done is commit murder again…only this time, you're murdering yourself."