Alex had been weirded-out seeing his dad change into a werewolf. David lay in his and Kurt's bed, his body tensing as he felt the change taking hold of him. Kurt sat at the foot of the bed, holding Alex. Alex wanted to climb into the bed with his Other Daddy, but Kurt held him firmly. The pup whimpered and looked between Kurt and David when David began to thrash. He whimpered again before letting out a short string of staccato barks.

David's arms and legs had elongated. A tail had sprouted from his tailbone. Fur was bristling out from his pores. His ears had shifted their location, become larger, and changing shape until they were two pointed triangles on the top of his head. Alex no longer whimpered worriedly and instead was starting to look curious. He strained as far forward in Kurt's arms as he could get, his ears perked forward, his head cocked to the side as he watched his father complete the change. When Wolf had completely replaced David, Kurt allowed Alex to scamper out of his arms and onto the bed beside his daddy.

As Wolf opened his eyes and began to stretch himself, Alex pawed at Wolf's muzzle, before flopping onto his side and reaching his front paws out towards his daddy. Wolf craned his neck down and wrapped his mouth around Alex's head. Picking his son up that way he deposited Alex into his paws and began grooming his son while Alex fidgeted in his father's large paws.

xoxoxo

According to Kurt, allowing Alex to watch him change had been moderately successful. Alex had paid careful attention during both Dave's change into Wolf, and Wolf's change back into Dave. David sat in the living room, pulling on a pair of shoes while Kurt regaled him with Alex's reactions. Kurt had been sharing everything with David all morning – while David changed, while they ate breakfast, while David brushed his hair and teeth – all while Kurt stifled yawns. Full moons were always so hard on Kurt's sleep cycle. Apparently, after Wolf had released Alex, Alex had set to work busily investigating him; sniffing him all over, as though he were trying to figure out where the human-version of Other Daddy had gone. That was somewhat encouraging to David; life would be so much easier for Alex if he had a little less fur.

David looked behind the couch and by the front door. "Kurt? You seen my bookbag?"

Kurt pursed his lips off to the side while he thought about it. "You did your homework in the nursery last night, remember?"

Shaking his head, David jogged back up to the second floor. He was running late for school. Kurt wasn't the only one whose days were messed up by the full moon. David pushed open the nursery door. Alex, unlike his two daddies, was perky and wide-awake. The same could not be said of Moo Cow. Moo Cow was curled up, fast asleep – yet still alert, as only cats can manage – on the changing table next to Alex's crib. Right where David's bookbag should have been. Instead, David's bag had fallen (more likely been pushed) off the side of the changing table and into Alex's crib. Papers were scattered around the floor surrounding Alex's crib as well as in the crib. Leaning into Alex's crib, David picked up a fist-full of papers. The first page, which had been ripped clean in half and was covered in small tooth-marks and drool, was instantly recognizable to David: 'I believe the overarching theme of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein is the role of parents in childhood development. First of all, Dr. Frankenstein's relation to the monster is very clearly the same as that of an absentee father.'

"Ah, dammit. Alex, you destroyed my English paper. What am I supposed to say? 'Sorry, my son ate my homework?'" David sighed, he could always re-print it and hand it in late. "Oh, well. Not like I'm going to pass that class anyway. She won't let me make up any work from the days I've missed." David turned around to see Kurt standing silently in the doorway, his face white as paper. "Kurt?"

"David…there's a black Chevy Impala out front. In the driveway. A man in a black suit is standing beside it. He looks like a slayer." David tensed and straightened up subconsciously. "He doesn't look armed." David thought he might know who it was; after all, who else would it be? "And he looks alone, but…you can never tell." Dropping the papers and leaving his bookbag behind, David passed by Kurt and out into the hall. "You aren't really going outside are you?"

"If he had anything on me, then hiding inside wouldn't even slow him down." Kurt stopped David when they both got to the front door. David hesitated before turning the knob. He faced Kurt and they just eyed each other for a moment. Neither knew who moved first, but soon, they were entangled in a fierce kiss: their faces pressed together with almost painful pressure, Kurt's arms wrapped tightly around David's waste, David palms pressed to the sides of Kurt's head. "Love you so much, Kurt."

Kurt nodded. "I'll expect you back by dinner."

David just nodded in return and went outside. Whittaker stood between his own vehicle and Dave's. Positioned by the driver's side door, David wouldn't have been able to get in without passing by the federal agent. "Morning, Whittaker. Sorry, can't talk today; I have school."

Whittaker placed a hand against the door and leaned towards David. "You're not very good at calling, are you?"

David swallowed heavily, trying to choke down his nerves as he shrugged with faux confidence. "Yeah, well, I don't have much to talk to you about."

"That so? Then get in and just listen." Whittaker leaned towards his own vehicle and opened the passenger side door.

David's eyes darted between the open door and Whittaker's face; neither told him what to think of this situation. "And if I refuse?"

"It's in both of our best interests to not need to find out." David leaned down and ducked into the vehicle. Hearing Whittaker close it after him sounded strangely similar to the sound of cell bars closing. Whittaker got into his own side of the vehicle and, after backing down the Hummel's driveway, they were on their way.

An hour into the drive, David grew sick of the silence. "You're just pissed you couldn't get the charges to stick."

Whittaker shot him a strange look: his eyebrows scrunched in on his eyes, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. He refocused his attention on the road and was quiet for another moment before he let loose a genuinely amused laugh. One of those laughs that actually sounds like a slightly high-pitched 'He-he-he.' "You were never going to jail."

"What? But you were trying to peg my dad as an accomplice and-"

"You need to watch more cop shows…cops'll say a lot of things if it gets someone talking. No, you were never going to go to prison. You were ten David. A child doesn't have a whole lot of understanding or control over their actions or a profound understanding of right and wrong. No. If you were human and you had been found guilty when the crime actually happened, you probably would have gone to court-ordered counseling…possibly sent to a psych ward for a bit. No jail."

"But, I'm a werewolf. Things are different for them…us."

Whittaker jerked his shoulder up, then quickly let it drop. "All the more reason for that course of action. You may have known what you were doing, but you had absolutely no control over it. And you were feeling guilt even as it was happening. That doesn't really scream cold-blooded killer to me. Believe it or not, the American justice system is based on justice…not revenge. You would have needed to learn control over your wolf. That's it."

"So, now? What happens now?"

"You still need to learn control. You and I are headed to DC to meet some friends of mine. They can each help you in different ways: if you let them." Whittaker was quiet as he waited for David to respond, but David wasn't quite sure how to respond. "I've been monitoring you since we met: school records, Internet activity, whatever. You're very interested in the slayers aren't you?"

David nodded. "I was."

"I suppose you know werewolves are an endangered subspecies?" David nodded again. "You also know very well just how powerful they are." Silent nod. "The federal government likes werewolves. It likes them a lot. Army Rangers, Navy SEALS, Force Recon, SWAT, tactical response…they all love werewolves. They all want werewolves. Werewolves are strong, durable, heal quickly, make the world's greatest bloodhounds, they're fast, have killer endurance. Just about the only elite teams that don't wet themselves over the thought of recruiting werewolves are the crisis negotiation units. They like vampires – that whole charm thing they do that makes people trust them and listen to them. You've played on a lot of different sports team, right?" Whittaker didn't bother to wait for a response this time. "Just think of me as a recruiter. I saw you first; I intend to snatch you up for my team."

"Wait…you want me to be a federal slayer?" Whittaker flashed his eyebrows in confirmation. "Where the hell were you three, four, five months ago?" David looked out the window, laughing inaudibly to himself at Whittaker's piss-poor timing. Then, almost as an afterthought, it occurred to him, "Why haven't I ever heard of werewolves being so desperately sought by the government?"

"It's bad enough we have all the conspiracy nutjobs out there that think Jews or Illuminati are secretly running the world, you think we want to fan the flames of lunacy by letting people know it's the things they fear most in the world keeping them safe in their beds at night? The government would sooner tell the public that the Roswell crash was indeed an alien spaceship and a newborn Arnold Schwarzenegger was found aboard."

"I'm sorry that you're wasting your time. I don't really want to be a slayer, any longer. I…" David sighed. "When I was little, I always wanted to be a doctor, like my dad. Then I got bit and…I wanted revenge on all unhumans. I wanted to fight them: to destroy them. I've kinda, almost, sorta come to terms with what I am. I don't want to hurt unhumans anymore."

"Have I hurt you?"

"What?"

"I'm a slayer. Have I hurt you?" David shook his head. "All I'm asking is that you spend the day with me, David, and hear me out. See what I've got to say. Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yeah…but you're wasting your time."

"Then what's it to you? You get to skip school and get a free trip to the nation's capital."

xoxoxo

David wanted to sleep on the trip to the Columbus airport, but his body no longer wanted those extra few minutes. Instead, he stared out the window and allowed his mind to go blank. It was a quarter after nine when they arrived at the airport. Whittaker left the car with a valet and they both headed to check-in. David felt nervous and needed to ease his tension with mindless babble, "I haven't been on a plane since I was seven."

Whittaker gave David the once-over, taking in David's appearance as they waited in line to check-in with the airline. "You aren't afraid of flying, are you? Because that might definitely put the kibosh on my plans for you."

David smiled and shook his head. "No, I just haven't had a reason to travel by air in years. My dad and I…we aren't the 'vacation' type. And dad couldn't plan and organize a vacation if his life depended on it. He'd book the hotel, then remember to create an itinerary a few weeks later and then remember to purchase tickets at the last minute only to discover the plane was booked. He's just not good at stuff like that. He needs solid deadlines to function. My grandparents had planned the trip; they took me, my mom and dad, my cousins, and my aunts and uncles to Disney. It was awesome. I made my aunt take me on 'It's a Small World'…by the fourth time on the ride, she had decided she was the designated smoking section."

"Well…DC isn't exactly Disney, but I think you'll enjoy yourself." As they got to the front of the line, Whittaker pulled some pre-printed tickets from his pocket and showed them to the lady at the computer.

She smiled politely and looked the tickets over. "Luggage?"

"None, today."

"IDs?"

Both Whittaker and David dug through their pockets for their wallets. David was the first to have his out and handed it to the woman. She sneered upon seeing the black stripe along the side of his license, but said nothing. She'd leave it up to the TSA to decide whether or not to do anything about him. Whittaker handed over his license, as well as his FBI ID card. David only paid a cursory glance to his FBI card. It was Whittaker's driver's license that was more interesting to him.

It had a pale blue stripe up the side "You're an unhuman?"