Sorry for the delay, my students had finals this week and I had a fever…and I don't know how to call in sick. I suppose it's just as well; there have been far too many mornings when I've woken up and said to myself, "I think I'd rather not, today."

Glad so many of you are enjoying Whittaker. I like him too. I subconsciously modeled him a bit after my father; he's an irreverent ass that enjoys what he does, but doesn't take it very seriously – until it comes down to the wire.

xoxoxo

It was just shy of six o'clock when Whittaker pulled into the Hummels' driveway. Never before had David experienced such a hectic day. Two short plane trips, two long car rides, a trip to the Smithsonian, a meeting with destiny and, pretty soon, a meeting with fate. Kurt had not been pleased when David had called him from the airport to tell him Whittaker was coming to dinner. David had a lot to talk to his family about (families? Was David a ligament connecting two families, or a node joining two into one?) and wanted Whittaker there to fill in the blanks that David himself couldn't.

Plus, David had the feeling that Whittaker was going to play an important role in his life; it only made sense that the other important people in his life got to know him.

Kurt was already standing in the doorway when David and Whittaker walked up. "Your dad's here; dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes – it's in the oven." Kurt looked Whittaker over suspiciously, his lips slightly pursed, and a hard as steel look in his eyes. "Hello. I'm Kurt." Kurt held his hand out to Whittaker, but snatched it back almost the second Whittaker had touched it, as though he couldn't bare to touch the slayer. "David, can we talk for a few minutes?"

xoxoxo

"I don't want that man in my house!" Kurt – generally adverse to profanity – inserted as much malevolence and iciness into the word "man" as he could, making it clear he was censoring a more potent choice of descriptor. "He's a slayer. I don't want him anywhere near my son!"

"Our son. He may be a slayer, but he's a good guy. He's trying to help me…help us." David reached out a hand towards Kurt's arm, but Kurt pulled away from him the moment David had reached him. "He's a slayer, yes, but he's also an unhuman."

"Judas! Benedict Arnold!"

David rolled his eyes at Kurt's hyperbole. "Kurt, he isn't a 'traitor'. Look…he helped me stay out of prison, now he's offering me a job with the FBI. Security for us for the future."

Kurt's lower lip wobbled. He was pouting. "Sebastian told me about the whole jail thing."

"Sebastian? Smythe? What the hell does he know about that?"

"His father is a district attorney. He knows people who know people who know people. He heard about how the Feds fought to get the charges dropped against you."

David placed a hand on his forehead, shaking his head trying to clear his thoughts. "Sebastian's an incubus, right? How did and incubus advance to district attorney?"

"His father's human. His mother's a succubus. Back to Whittaker, though. What do you mean he's offering you a job?"

Kurt seemed to be slightly less standoffish, so David got closer to him, placing a hand on each of Kurt's shoulders. "We'll explain everything at dinner. Whittaker wants to be able to answer any questions; what I'll be doing for them…it isn't the usual."

xoxoxo

Carol had to force the squid away from Alex to get him to the dinner table. He was thoroughly enjoying himself trying to chew the squid's head off while Cow stalked after one of the tentacles. Once Alex had been de-squided, though, Cow lost interest. There was no one to make the tentacles wiggle any longer. Instead, she parked herself under the kitchen table where she was sure she would be treated to table scraps courtesy of David, Finn, and Burt.

Carol held Alex in her lap, forking over stuffed shells for him, one half at a time, as he stood on her knees, his tail slowly slapping against her stomach, while he licked at the dripping sauce.

The rest of the family, plus Whittaker, sat around the table enjoying Kurt and Carol's cooking. No one had done much talking so far, but Paul Karofsky was radiating the same kind of anti-slayer vibes David could sense from Kurt. Finn just looked happy to have a full, home-cooked meal in front of him, Burt and Carol were acting as though nothing were different. "This is really good cooking, Mrs. Hummel."

"Thank you…um… Whittaker. Kurt did most of it though. I just cooked and stuffed the shells. Kurt made up the sauce and cheese mixes."

"If you prefer, you can call me Milton." Whittaker used his fork to chop one of his shells into thirds, before folding one of the thirds over on itself and fitting the nice little package into his mouth.

"How can you eat?"

Whittaker thoroughly chewed his food and swallowed politely before responding to David. "Just can. I've never really questioned how or why I can do most of what I can."

Carol paused in her feeding of Alex. "Why wouldn't you be able to eat?" Alex, not bothering to give Carol even a moment to catch back up with the food, shoved his muzzle down into their plate of food – grabbing up a shell and "wolfing" it down. His entire muzzle came up covered in thick, red sauce. "Oh, Alex! You little pig." Alex looked up at his grandma, not understanding her words, and swiped his tongue across her chin, smearing it with tomato sauce.

Whittaker chuckled, wholly unused to Alex's antics. "You see, Carol, I'm an unhuman, as well. I'm an apparition."

"You're dead?" Burt inquired rather bluntly.

"Yes. I was murdered for falling in love with a nymph." After over twenty years, it was no longer quite so painful for Whittaker, though every now and then it would tear at his heartstrings.

Paul put his cutlery aside and folded his hands in front of himself, tenting his index fingers and thumbs together. "You're an unhuman…yet, you're a slayer? You don't find that a bit…hypocritical?"

Whittaker shook his head. "Cops are usually humans, the military is comprised almost solely of humans, most of the FBI is staffed by humans. They all serve the purpose of protecting humans from humans. I don't see a problem with unhumans being the ones to police other unhumans."

"Personally, I think it helps fight some of the problems with speciesism." Everyone looked up at Burt who was busily eating away as though he hadn't even spoken. When he noticed everyone watching him, he looked up rather surprised. Wasn't his point rather obvious? "If more unhumans are allowed to – even encouraged – to serve in the police, the slayers, the FBI, whatever, there will be less instances of humans in power abusing unhumans." When no one commented, he elaborated. "Think about the Rodney King beating – if one of those cops had been black, would the beating have happened? And if it had still happened, would nearly as many people called racism? I don't think having more unhumans in the FBI could lead to anything bad, so why fight it?"

Kurt very deliberately placed his fork down without really banging it, to draw attention to himself. "The FBI wants David – actually Wolf – to join them so they can use him to arrest other unhumans. Not unhumans and humans, but just unhumans. It's two completely different things."

Burt shook his head at his son. "Let's face it, Kurt, there have to be slayers to deal with unhumans. If regular cops were expected to deal with unhumans, the training time alone would scare off most candidates. Not to mention the cost of equipping every cop and Fed in the country with the equipment slayers require. No…I think it's a good thing to get more unhumans into the slayers. I also think this is a phenomenal opportunity for David."

Whittaker, seeing that Burt was recruiting most of the room over to his way of thinking, jumped on board. "And the slayers won't be monopolizing David. Other branches of the FBI will probably use him, as well. What the FBI has planned for him is rather unique. He'll be the first werewolf we've been able to get in quite a while – they usually get tempted over to the dark side fairly early by the Marines. David will only be working for the FBI part-time. He'll still be able to fulfill his dreams of being an unhuman medical specialist…"

"Unhuman medical specialist?" Paul practically whispered it, as though if he said it too loudly he might be corrected. "You've gone back to wanting to be a doctor?" Paul was obviously as surprised as just about everyone else in the room. Only Kurt really had any idea that David was leaning back towards the medical profession. But Kurt had to admit he hadn't seen Paul so exited, relieved, and happy since he had met his grandson for the first time.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware that wasn't common knowledge."

David shrugged off Whittaker's apology. "That's ok."

"Anyway, the FBI will help David get into a good medical school somewhere not too far from DC or Quantico, he'll go through FBI training this summer and fall, then he'll continue on to med school during the spring semester of college. He'll also get training throughout this time from a former FBI psychologist who is going to attempt to help him control his change and…merge" Whittaker meshed his fingers together, "his and Wolf's identities. He'll report to the FBI as needed for more challenging cases – not just with the slayers, but wherever he's needed. Though he will be classed as a slayer. He, and his dependents," Whittaker gestured to Kurt and Alex, "will have insurance through the FBI and you'll likely be housed – subsidized by the FBI – in family housing at Quantico, if you wish."

David smiled a hopeful smile at Kurt, "You can't object to any of that, Kurt."

"I can and I will. I don't want Alex growing up in that kind of atmosphere. His only experience with unhumans will be the ones his father arrests. He's going to grow up thinking all unhumans are criminals."

"And that would be different growing up anywhere else, how, exactly? At least growing up at Quantico, he'll constantly have higher-ranking Feds and Marines doting on him, trying to win him over for the FBI and Marines when he's old enough. And he'll be thoroughly protected growing up on a military base. None of the blatant speciesism David faces just getting out of bed every morning. You'll be able to take Alex outside without any fear. And…if you truly object to the idyllic life he'd face at Quantico, you're more than welcome to choose another FBI field location to move closer to once David's done with his training; Cincinnati and Cleveland both have field offices. Hell, you don't even have to accompany him along for his training – I just assumed you'd want to. And for your information, the FBI and military have some of the densest unhuman populations of any profession. Yes, he won't meet a whole lot of other werewolves – if any. But there will be plenty of unhumans showing him that unhumans are people, first and foremost. Probably even some unhumans his own age to play with."

Alex had gone unnoticed during Whittaker's mini-monologue and had taken the opportunity to eat his fill off of Carol's plate, leaving his grandmother almost nothing. Everyone was deep in thought over what Whittaker had to say: everyone but the person whom his words most affected – the furriest member of the table, who was busy using his paws to wipe sauce off his head and into his mouth.

Kurt, realizing that by now everyone had been sold by Whittaker's tale of a world somewhere over the rainbow, grasped at one last feeble excuse. "This isn't just David's future we're talking about. Or mine and Alex's, for that matter. Let's see what Wolf has to say about this. Let's let him make the final decision." Kurt was positive Wolf would never agree to this madness.

Whittaker, returning to his meal, shrugged and stabbed at a shell with his fork. "Sounds fine to me."

xoxoxo

David, Finn and Whittaker moved all the furniture in the living room to the far edges of the room to give David space for the change. Moo Cow took the opportunity to explore her new "playground." With the couches and chairs against the walls, she found she could reach things on the walls she'd never even noticed before. She could paw at photographs, reach some of the decorative shelves, and she could almost reach the decorative molding around the top of the doorframe. It was the almost that prompted Burt to lock the kitten up in the nursery while they waited for the change to complete; apparently cats didn't always land on their feet when falling from heights.

Alex was just as busy exploring the new layout of the living room, so didn't give much thought to the loss of his playmate.

Carol tried to find a neutral topic for everyone to discuss while they waited for sundown at 8:02. "So, Milton, what did you do for a liv… job, before you joined the slayers?"

"In my final days, to provide comfort for my wife and myself I got a steady job as a security guard. Before that, when I wasn't unemployed for frequent drug use, I was involved in construction. Plumbing and carpentry, mostly, but I could do most anything involving the hands." Whittaker held his hands out in front of himself, marveling at the potential they possessed.

"You any good with cars?"

Whittaker smiled conspiratorially before responding. "My first car was a 1953 Studebaker Champion Regal Starlight my father and I built from the ground up."

That seemed to grab Burt's attention, though no one else in the room seemed familiar with the vehicle. "You're kidding right? That was a beautiful beast. I've only seen one in the shop, and they are gorgeous. They rust like nobody's business, but if you love cars, that's a small price to pay."

"Lemme tell you…Ace – my car – redefined rust, but I loved her. She was a magnificent creature. She was as classy as classy got. The ladies loved her."

"I'll bet." Whittaker, Burt and Paul continued bonding over their favorite previously owned vehicles. Even Carol eventually joined in with her memories of her first vehicle – an Opel Kadett station wagon. Much to Finn and Kurt's mutual discomfort, apparently the gentlemen had "enjoyed" the station wagon, as well.

Just after eight o'clock rolled around, an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia came over David. It felt as though his very skin were suffocating him. He tensed and shifted off the couch and into the center of the floor, where he wouldn't hit anyone or anything. Alex, thinking his Other Daddy wanted to play with him, jumped down off of Paul's lap and trotted over to David. Kurt lunged after Alex the moment he saw his son trying to climb atop David and scooped him up, grabbing him out of David's reach. Kurt was barely back on the couch before David's eyes rolled back in his head and he lashed his arms out to the sides, his knuckles smacking loudly against the wooden floorboards.

Whittaker, Kurt, and Paul were completely unfazed seeing the change. Carol clutched onto her husband's hand in shock as she watched, and though Burt would never admit it, he would have reached for her hand in his own shock if she hadn't made the first move. Finn's eyes went wide as he watched his friend and housemate writhe and convulse. Alex, still slightly worried seeing his Other Daddy like this, struggled to get out of Kurt's grasp and go be with David on the floor. Kurt only had to grip Alex for a little over two minutes though.

It never ceased to astound him how quickly the change was over.

Once David had fully morphed into Wolf, Kurt released Alex, who immediately dashed over to Wolf and began licking at him. Wolf greeted Alex warmly, grooming his son all over, until he noticed Whittaker watching them. His motions came to an abrupt stop and he pushed Alex behind himself as he rolled over into a crouching position. "Hello again, Wolf."

Wolf nodded in greeting, without relaxing his tensed posture.

"I've been on a bit of a field trip with David today. We went to meet a friend of mine who can help the two of you merge and control the change." Wolf's ears pricked up curiously. "He also met my employers at the Bureau. They'd like to hire you and David." Wolf's head tilted to the side. "You and your family would be cared for, we'd assist you with your education, all we ask is that you help us find and arrest other dangerous unhumans…dangerous unhumans like the man that murdered your mother. Kurt isn't thrilled with the idea, but he said he wanted to see how you felt about it."

Wolf wasn't too certain how he felt about this. How did Human feel about this? He obviously had to like the idea, if Wolf was the deciding factor. Human had wanted to be a slayer for a long time, but that had changed since Human had gotten to know his son. What had happened to change Human's mind back? And if Human and Wolf merged, would they truly merge…or would Wolf simply cease to exist? He hated not being able to talk to them and ask questions.

Wolf whimpered to let his frustration known.

Whittaker seemed to understand and nodded knowingly. He pulled out his phone and flipped through his contacts before coming up with the phone number he needed. He had to try the number several times before someone other than the voicemail picked up. From the other end of the line, Wolf's sensitive ears could pick up "Colonel Amanda Hatfield, speaking."

"Colonel, it's Agent Whittaker with the FBI, I know it's probably late –" Whittaker checked his watch, "– early where you are, but I'm in rather desperate need of a translator. Federal business. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all, Agent. Put them on."

Whittaker held the phone out for Wolf. Wolf, having never handled a phone before, sniffed at it curiously. He understood the purpose of a phone, and how to use one, but wasn't quite sure why Whittaker was handing it to him. On the other end of the line, he heard a small guttural noise, almost like a growl…but for some reason, his brain processed it as more than that. In the far reaches of his brain, his mind turned the words around into something similar to "I'm a werewolf, too. I'll understand you if you try to speak."

Wolf yipped in alarm and jumped back from the cell phone, stumbling over his son in the process.