Thanks to everyone who read, and as always reviews are appreciated.

Note: Includes references to Grimm 2.10 (The Hour of Death) and crosses over with Meaning Makes It (ch. 14), but both stories can be read separately.


Another number ticked by on the overhead board, and Roddy gritted his teeth. If they didn't let him submit these stupid forms when he got up to the desk this time, he was going to summon every rat he could reach and ask them to tear this stupid office to bits. It wasn't like it would be a loss, either, since from what he could tell the staff here seemed to be actively trying to prevent anyone from accomplishing anything.

For once the fact that he wasn't being singled out wasn't making him any happier.

His phone rang, and he pulled it out without looking at it. "Yeah."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you at school!"

"Huh?" Roddy recognized Barry's voice easily enough, not that that many people called him anyway, but why Barry would be apologizing... Oh. Right. Friday. "It's cool, we're not in school today. Parent-teacher conferences or whatever." He wouldn't have answered if he'd been in school; the teachers were absolutely vicious about that kind of thing.

"Whew. Good. I just got out, and I didn't even think about it when I hit 'call.'"

"It's cool," Roddy repeated. "But got out of what?"

"Volunteer orientation for the food bank."

"Oh, nice, you got your okay, then."

"Yeah. I won't actually be able to sign up for any shifts until next week since they have to get my name into their system and all, but it's progress. What are you up to if not school?"

Roddy scoffed. "I'm having a lot of fun. I'm at the Portland Title Office trying to decide what the difference is between form 12-11-stroke-b and 12-11-stroke-c and whether or not I was supposed to fill out this fucking thing in blue or blank ink if Dad died on an even day of the month."

"What?"

"Sorry," Roddy said with a sigh. "I'm trying to get the title to my dad's truck in my name so I can sell it, and I thought I printed out all of the right stuff at school the other day, but I found out when I got here that I should have used a whole different—although somehow pretty much identical, because why not—set of forms because Dad was my dad and obviously we weren't married. And because of that, the stuff I filled out all has the wrong barcode on it so I had to redo it even though none of the information changed. And then I couldn't turn those in because even though I have the death certificate with me it's somehow not the right version of the death certificate and they needed a supervisor to sign off on it. Since the supervisor wasn't in at that point, back to the back of the line with me." He glanced towards the row of desks at the front of the room and then lowered his voice a little. "And the people I've talked to have been total assholes, but I have to get this shit done today because this stupid office isn't open on the weekends so unless I want to cut school this is my only chance before Thanksgiving. When it's probably not going to be closed again."

"Wow. Sorry, that sucks. Suddenly spending an hour listening to people telling me I should wear sensible shoes and not play chicken with the pallet loaders seems a lot more reasonable."

"They seriously told you that?"

"Oh, I'd love to know what happened to make them add about half of the rules to the list they gave me. I mean, 'don't steal from the food bank' is bad enough, but who needs be told not to hang from the forklift?"

Roddy laughed despite himself.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to come over again this weekend. I was thinking tomorrow or Sunday, but if you manage to escape the Title Office sometime soon, this afternoon would be cool too."

Roddy looked up again at the numbers on the sign overhead. "Tell you what. I think they're about two people away from calling me back up, so if they let me get everything submitted this time I'll shoot you a text and find whichever bus goes straight to your place instead of doing the whole doubling-back-by-home thing." There was bound to be some kind of direct route from downtown. "If they want me to redo any more of these damn forms or wait for someone else to show up or whatever it'll probably be better for all involved if I go kick rocks by the river for a while, but in that case I can head your way tomorrow." He had a few things he needed to get done this weekend, but nothing that would take more than a day.

"Works for me, but text me either way so I know if I should keep an eye out, all right? I can pick you up at the driveway again, if you want. And assuming that you can make it today, do you want anything in particular for lunch? We're about out of leftovers so I need to pick up some takeout anyway."

"Nah, anything's good with me." Not that Roddy typically went to restaurants when he ran out of groceries, but...different circumstances. Especially since he wasn't even going to the grocery store too often these days since he was still waiting for the damn survivors' benefits to show up. Supposedly 'Geiger' meant his check should arrive next week, but one should have showed up in the second week of last month too and that definitely hadn't happened. Between the missing checks and the Title Office mess he was kind of starting to understand his relatives' complaints about 'the government,' as much as he hated to agree with them about anything.

"All right, I'll just see what's on the way, then," Barry said, drawing him back to the present. "I better get going, but good luck."

"Thanks." Roddy watched another number tick by and checked the slip of paper in his hand to confirm that he was up next. "I'll probably need it."


"But that's not how anything works!" Roddy protested. Like, he was openly a music geek, not a science geek, but even he knew that.

Barry, sprawled out on the floor beside him, laughed. "We just watched a truck with a face hold a gas station hostage, and you're saying that now?"

"Well, no one was pretending that that was science, that was Stephen King insanity. These guys are acting like blowing up the Coliseum with lightning is a thing."

Mr. Rabe's chuckle from the couch behind them overlapped with Barry's, and Barry reached out and jabbed his shoulder lightly. "Don't get too traumatized yet, the next movie on the list is about aliens coming to sink our battleships."

Roddy groaned and rolled back to face the television. And then shoved himself up again, digging in his pocket for his phone. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Barry asked.

The screen confirmed his fears. "I forgot to set the alarm, and it's after nine-thirty. I missed my bus." He bit back another curse, because he hadn't even thought about it. He and Barry had had lunch right after he'd gotten here and then they'd spent most of the rest of the afternoon playing pool—for certain definitions of playing, anyway, since Barry was about a million times better than he was—and then when Mr. Rabe had gotten home they'd had pizza and switched to a three-player version that had worked out a little better since he and Mr. Rabe had been able to gang up on Barry. After a few rounds of that they'd decided to take a break and watch a movie or two, though, and since nothing had looked particularly good, Barry had found a streaming channel advertising movies that were particularly bad instead. And they'd been fun to make fun of, sure, especially when Barry had been openly rooting for the trucks in the last one on the grounds that the characters were too stupid to live, but Roddy hadn't meant to strand himself.

"Seriously?" Barry frowned and sat up himself, squinting at the clock on the wall. "Wow. I guess it is."

"It's not a problem," Mr. Rabe said. "I can give you a ride."

"Or you could just stay here tonight instead. We've got sleeping bags and everything, and I'm sure I can find something you can wear," Barry suggested. "I mean, it'll be like twelve sizes too big, but that doesn't matter much for sleeping. Then we can finish this movie, or a couple of movies, and you can catch a bus home tomorrow."

"Or you could do that. Don't feel obliged, I'm happy to give you a ride if you'd prefer to go home tonight, but there are plenty of spare toiletries in the bathroom."

Roddy hesitated and then shrugged. "I guess I can stay, if you're sure that it's okay." Mr. Rabe had been nice to him and all, but he still felt more comfortable in Barry's presence than his father's, and he wasn't at all comfortable asking the man to drive him anywhere even if he had offered.

"Sure we're sure." Barry flopped back down. "Come on, let's get back to watching the nice actors completely mangle science."

"I think it's the writers who have more to answer for," Roddy said with a roll of his eyes, but he also put his phone back in his pocket and laid back down.

The movie spit out a few more gems of ridiculousness before a buzzing interrupted them—seriously, it was supposed to be a tension bridge with an emphasis on tension—and it took Roddy a minute to realize that it was coming from him.

"Monroe?" he asked when he'd pulled his phone out again, sitting up and putting it to his ear. "Hey. What's up?"

"You're at home, right?"

"What? No, I'm at Barry's. I caught the bus to his place after I finally got those stupid forms turned in this morning, and we sort of lost track of time watching movies. Why?"

"Have you seen the news today?"

"No."

Monroe didn't give him time to say anything else, launching immediately into a...well, Roddy wasn't totally sure what he launched into, except that it probably would have made a lot more sense if it wasn't half in German. Not that the way that Monroe kept interrupting himself was helping either, and Roddy started shaking his head ten seconds in.

"Anna-what?" he finally interrupted, when it became clear that Monroe wasn't going to stop any time soon. "Stabbing? I don't think I know any of those words, but can you slow down a little and maybe add more English? I'm in my third year of Latin, remember, German just sounds like someone couldn't find the space bar."

Mr. Rabe coughed, but Roddy's attention was still on Monroe because he'd never heard him sound this weirded out before. Not even when Nick's creepy cousin or whoever had been was in town.

Roddy heard Monroe took a slow breath. "Okay. Okay. From the beginning. There was a murder earlier today. According to the newscasters, the police haven't been able to figure out much about it except that it's somehow connected to a young woman who was kidnapped a day or two ago, but the symbol found at the crime scene was the Sterbestunde G. Do you know what that is?"

"No."

"It's the mark of an Endezeichen Grimm. Did your dad or your mom or anyone ever tell you about them?"

"No. Or at least I don't think so. Dad just said 'Avoid Grimms,' he didn't classify them. I mean, I'd kind of like it if Grimms would stop randomly showing up because three in one year is ridiculous, but how is this Endez—Endeziech?—Grimm guy different from a regular non-Nick one?"

"What?"

Reflex had Roddy twisting towards the startled exclamation, and he froze at the expression on Mr. Rabe's face. The man wasn't woged, at least not yet, but he was half off the couch and clearly not happy. Roddy felt his claws start to slip free despite himself because while they wouldn't mean jack shit against a Jagerbar, it wasn't like he had anywhere to run.

"Dad!" Barry snapped, rolling sideways and flipping on the light on one of the side tables.

Mr. Rabe shook himself and then made an obvious effort to relax back onto the couch. "Roddy, I apologize for startling you, but this is important. Is someone asking you about an Endezeichen Grimm in Portland?"

Roddy stared at him and then forced himself to retract, putting the phone back to his ear slowly. "Monroe?"

"What happened?" Monroe demanded. "Are you okay?"

"I—yeah, I'm fine. But I think Barry's dad wants to talk to you."

Mr. Rabe had the sense to stay where he was as Roddy inched close enough to hand him the phone, but once Roddy had moved back again he pushed himself to his feet and walked around the couch and away from Roddy and Barry. "Frank Rabe, to whom am I speaking?"

"Hey," Barry said, nudging Roddy's shoulder gently. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure."

It wasn't even convincing to him, and Barry snorted. "Look, I don't have a clue what that was about, but I'm sure Dad didn't mean to scare you."

Roddy nodded.

"What were you saying, anyway?" Barry asked after a moment. "Endezeichen Grimm? Endezeichen means 'end' something, I think, but I only took one semester of German, and I mostly forgot it all as soon as the final was over so I'm not totally sure."

Roddy made himself look away from Mr. Rabe's back to focus on Barry. "Well, that's more that I understood. I mean, except for the part where if any kind of non-Nick Grimm is involved it's probably not good."

"No kidding. Did your friend say anything else?" Barry asked.

Roddy shook his head. "Not a lot that made sense. There was something about a murder on the news, it was tied to some kind of kidnapping, and they found a special sign with the body. Branded into the body. Stabers...Sterbus... Sterbstune?"

"Sterbestunde, maybe?" Barry frowned. "You know, I swear I have heard that somewhere, and not German class if you get my drift. Which would make sense if a Grimm is involved." He turned to look over his shoulder. "And it's got to be bad if it startled Dad that much."

"Yeah. Monroe sounded weirdly freaked too."

"I guess we could go up and dig around in Dad's office for a reference book if you want. That's where most of our Wesen books are now."

Roddy hesitated and then shook his head. "Let's wait until your dad's done talking to Monroe. I mean, Monroe wasn't making a lot of sense to me, but maybe he'll be able to figure it out."

Barry nodded and shifted around so he was sitting with his back against the couch. "So why would you take three years of Latin, anyway? I took a semester of that for my other language credit—we only needed two—and I was even happier to forget that than German."

"Huh? Oh, my school only requires two language credits for graduation too, but it's small enough that our only options are Latin or French, and Latin fit my schedule better. And then last year when I had to pick classes there weren't a lot of options for electives that I hadn't already taken. Plus I might have had a minor head injury at the time."

Barry grinned, but before he could say anything else Mr. Rabe came back towards them holding out Roddy's phone, and Roddy pushed himself to his feet and took it, putting it to his ear. "Monroe?"

"Hey. Frank told me what happened. I know you're probably a little shook up right now, but I need you to listen to me."

Monroe was one of the few people that Roddy would listen to regardless of circumstances, and he nodded.

"Roddy?"

Oh. Right. "Okay," he agreed.

"You need to stay with the Rabes. Tonight, tomorrow, just stay with them until I call you back. All right?"

"What? Why?"

"Frank will explain. Just trust me, it's safest for all involved."

"But—"

"Look, I can hear Nick coming up the walk, and he needs to hear this as much as you do. Probably more. Frank will explain, and I'll talk to you later. Okay?"

No, it was not okay, but it wasn't like Roddy had much of a choice, and after a moment he nodded again. "Okay. But if something bad is going on, be careful, all right? And tell Nick too."

"I will. "

The line went dead, and Roddy looked up at Mr. Rabe. "What's going on? The last time I got a call anything like that was when one of Nick's relatives was in town, and even then it was 'go to school and go home and stay out of trouble' not 'stay exactly where you are.'"

Mr. Rabe gestured towards the couch. "Why don't you two have a seat?"

Barry frowned and shifted up to the couch from where he'd been sitting on the floor, and after a moment Roddy joined him.

Mr. Rabe pulled one of the straight-backed chairs that had been against the wall around to face them. "It didn't look like either of you recognized the term Endezeichen Grimm. Is that right?"

"No," Barry said as Roddy shook his head. "But the other thing Roddy said, Sterbestunde, does sound a little bit familiar. I'm not sure from where, though."

"Sterbestunde G."

"Oh, that's it," Barry said. "That creepy alphabet book we had. I think you threw it out."

"I certainly tried, but your mother wanted to keep it since her parents gave it to us," Mr. Rabe said. "It's probably still in a box somewhere. But Endezeichen translates to 'end sign'. They're the Grimms that the worst of the stories are about. Back in the Middle Ages they traveled in packs, wiping out entire communities of Wesen. We're talking right down to infants in their cribs, for no reason except that they existed. And the executions were typically extremely brutal. Beheadings..."

He waved a hand vaguely, and Roddy got it because that was just what Grimms did. Storybook Grimms, anyway.

"But with the Endezeichen, beheadings were the least of it. Torture was standard, and every Wesen that they killed was branded with their sign."

"But that's all old-timey stuff, right?" Barry asked. "No one could just come along today and wipe out all of the Wesen in Portland."

Mr. Rabe shook his head. "If you'd asked me an hour ago I'd have said that you were absolutely right and that the last of the Endezeichen died out a few centuries ago. But while I haven't seen the news today myself, according to Monroe a man was killed this afternoon with their mark branded into him. Nick is apparently involved in the investigation now, and I'm sure he's quite motivated to find the killer, but until they have a little more information Monroe's suggestion is that we stay inside and keep our heads down. And Roddy, while I realize that most Grimms wouldn't necessarily bother you..."

He was clearly trying to be polite, and Roddy shrugged. "More like most Grimms wouldn't bother to look at me twice. It's cool. I like it that way."

"But an Endezeichen Grimm isn't most Grimms. An Endezeichen Grimm would torture you to death on nothing but principle if he happened across you. And given that and the lack of any other information, there's no reason that you can't stay here with us until we know more. If Monday comes with no new information we might have to look at things again—"

"I'm not skipping school," Roddy interrupted. Staying here for the entire weekend didn't exactly thrill him, but he could live with it. At least he had an extra set of clothes in his backpack from yesterday that he could change into if they didn't mind him using their washer. But he wasn't risking his scholarship for anything, especially since solo auditions were at the beginning of next week.

"Hopefully it'll all be settled by then and it won't matter," Mr. Rabe said. "Now, I'm going to go up and make sure that the house alarms are set. Why don't you two pause the movie and find a news station so we can see what's going on for ourselves?"