Thanks to everyone who read and to M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng, Hannah-Bubz-005, and YamiYugiYuki for reviewing.

Crosses over with Meaning Makes it ch. 34 and contains reference to Natural Born Wesen.

"All right, we'd better be going," Nick said reluctantly, looking at his watch. "Thanks for inviting us. That was fun."

Hank echoed his thanks as Mr. Rabe made the appropriate noises in return, and then all of them trooped through from the back deck to the front to wave goodbye. They'd been done eating a while ago, but the weather had been pretty decent—admittedly for Roddy after he'd added another of Barry's sweatshirts since he and Barry had sort of ended up in a mud bank earlier and his own jacket was in bad shape because of it—so they'd ended up staying outside for most of the afternoon. Nick and Hank had even joined he and Barry for a couple rounds of basketball-slash-foursquare.

It was getting late, though, and after saying goodbye to Nick and Hank they did a quick cleanup of the back deck, returned the leftovers to the fridge, and then turned on the television. And the terrifying security picture of the Skalengeck that had been shown on the news the other day was the first thing that popped up on the screen.

"Oh, hell," Barry muttered, and while it was probably a good thing that his dad didn't hear him, he most definitely wasn't wrong as the conversation turned abruptly from whether they wanted to start with pool or darts to ancient treaties and the violation of such. Complete with random German from not just Monroe and Mr. Rabe but Rosalee too, and Roddy caught Barry's eyes and rolled his own.

The three adults settled in on the couch and one of the chairs and since they didn't even seem to notice when the news switched to something else, Barry gestured towards the game console. "Want to play something? I think we've lost them for a while unless we want to try using them as the dart boards."

"Yeah, sure." Not that Roddy would mind listening normally, but the robbery mess had already been a half-hour topic over their early dinner, and since there was no new information he didn't see much point in keeping discussing it to death. Like it was stupid, sure, but it wasn't as if they could do anything.

Barry got him on six of the ten tracks, because Barry was a dork, and Roddy punched his shoulder lightly even as he tuned back in to the conversation happening behind them. Something about Monroe and a bar, it sounded like, which was kind of weird.

"Want to go up and heat up some of the snacks?" Barry suggested.

"I guess." Roddy wasn't the least bit hungry, given the number of steak-and-random-vegetable kabobs he'd had earlier he probably wouldn't be hungry again for a solid week, but they hadn't gotten around to trying the jalapeno poppers before everyone had showed up earlier, and he wouldn't mind a bite. And maybe another coke. And Barry probably was legitimately hungry because somehow he usually was.

None of the adults even glanced in their direction as they headed for the stairs, and Roddy grinned at Barry. "How much absolutely horrible noise do you think I can make with my violin before they come back to the present?"

He snorted. "Don't even think about it. The way they're going you and I will end up with ringing ears, and they won't even notice." He shook his head as he reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the kitchen. "I mean, I get why they're freaked and all, it's a stupid thing for whoever's doing it to be doing, and it's going to end badly and all of that, but seriously, how long can they possibly spend debating something that they all agree on? Nick wasn't going on like this earlier, and he's the one who's got to hunt them down!"

It was the same thing that Roddy had been thinking, and there wasn't much that he could do except shrug.

"Microwave or oven?" Barry asked, opening the fridge and pulling out the trays of potatoes and poppers. "If we use the microwave we'll have to do them in batches, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, but we've still got a couple hours to go so do you actually want to do all of them at once? Maybe we should do half a plate of each now, plus some of the eggs and vegetables, and then we can come back up and do another round whenever these are gone."

"That's a good idea, it still isn't even six yet. How early it gets dark this time of year always throws me."

Roddy nodded and grabbed a couple plates as Barry set the trays down on the counter, but a flash of light through the windows caught both of their attention. "Did Nick or Hank forget something?" Roddy asked, craning his head. He couldn't see anything from this angle except headlights, but he couldn't think of any reason why anyone else would come up here on New Year's Eve.

"I thought we brought everything in, but maybe we missed a jacket or whatever." Barry paused, hands coated in cream-cheese from the slightly-leaky jalapenos he'd just picked up, and Roddy grinned.

"I'll go see what's up."

"Thanks."

For some reason Nick had stopped with his headlights pointed towards the house, which didn't do great things for Roddy's vision, and the glare through the narrow window in the door was enough to leave him grimacing and fumbling with the lock. He was, in fact, smarter than a bolt of metal, though, and he grinned as he pulled it open. "Hey, did y—"

He wasn't sure afterwards if he registered not-Nick or cat first, but since he had exactly zero personal pride tied up in fighting giant cats himself, he slammed the door in whoever's face it was and yelled.

The window beside him exploded, something much larger than a cat crashing through, and Roddy scrambled back towards the kitchen even as Barry charged in already half-woged.

Whoever had come in through the window twisted towards him, and Barry didn't even break stride as he roared and crashed into them, taking them both to the floor.

The cat—Lowen, specifically—leapt through the broken window behind the first..attacker?...invader? and Roddy scrambled for something to throw because he still knew what kind of fight he didn't belong in, but he couldn't leave Barry alone to fight two at once, either. And fuck but the Rabes were neat and clean. If if he'd been at home he'd have had twenty things to hand, plates left lying around, Dad's old coatts, chess pieces, whatever, but here the table was clean and the plates they'd planned to load snacks onto were on the far counter and—

The two on the floor rolled hard, crashing into one of the random empty pillars scattered around the Rabes' entryway and drawing a much more pained yell from Barry, and for lack of anything better Roddy yelled again and threw his phone as hard as he could. It caught the cat in the side of the head and he snarled, swiveling back in Roddy's direction.

Roddy backed up a further, still searching desperately for something else throwable, when a second set of headlights shining through the window caught his eye. He wasn't stupid enough to think that whoever that was was here to help them, and as it was the distraction almost cost him some blood as the Lowen suddenly sprang and only reflex got him under the kitchen table in time to avoid claws. It wasn't much in the way of cover, but one of its claws caught against a heavy chair leg as he swiped at Roddy, and Roddy snarled and drove his own claws into the back of the bastard's hand. As much as he wanted to lunge forward at the same time, do his best to take out an eye or two, the guy had too much reach on him for it to have any chance of getting there before he was disemboweled, so he threw himself backwards instead and came up on the far side of the table.

The Lowen snarled again, and Roddy braced himself for a mad dash into to the kitchen because there was zero quarter in standing and fighting where he was, when a claw came around and smashed into the side of the Lowen's head, throwing him violently into the wine cabinet.

"Get clear!" Monroe snarled, and while Roddy had no argument with that there was no 'clear' to get to with Monroe and the—admittedly now shakey-looking—Lowen squaring up between him and the hallway and Mr. Rabe squaring off with whatever bastard had taken Barry down. And he sure as hell wasn't going outside with a second vehicle waiting out there.

For lack of any better options he ducked back under the table, digging in his pocket for his phone, only to curse himself as he realized he'd thrown the damn thing and it was going to be pretty hard to call Nick for help when it was somewhere across the room.

Monroe snarled again and the Lowen went down hard, and Roddy would have squeaked as he found himself only an arms-length away from the stupid cat again, except that this time it was pretty obvious that said cat wasn't exactly conscious.

"Wha—"

The crack of a gunshot cut off whatever Monroe had been going to say, and Roddy froze.