#wesen/Grimm!Killian | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hollyethecurious · 2 months ago

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CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (2/?)

Summary: The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions. Creatures known as wesen. Supernatural, other-worldly beings who have always lived among humans and have always been hunted by those who had come to be known as Grimms. A struggle of secrecy, balance, and power among these species has existed since the beginning of time. This is a story of a man with his own struggle. The internal struggle of being a human, a wesen, and a Grimm, and the external forces that seek to eradicate one or all of his natures, especially those he tries to keep hidden. Fortunately, Killian Jones is not alone in his struggles nor his secrets. His personal savior, Emma Swan, has secrets and struggles of her own.

A/N: This fic is inspired by and will borrow from the NBC show Grimm. I confess I did not watch Grimm when it first aired, but absolutely fell in love with the show during a binge fest years later. If you have not seen the show, no worries! My beta - who has not seen the show either - assures me that it is not necessary. If you have seen the show, then I hope you’ll forgive the huge creative license I am taking with the material. This is not a strict Grimm retelling with Once characters. This is my own spin on the lore and cannon of both shows.

Sorry I am so late with this update. I underestimated how demanding real life was gonna be now that we are back in full swing with school. I'll do my best to stay on track going forward!

I cannot express how much I have enjoyed being a part of the @cssns all these years. Thank you to the mods who have kept it going year after year. We've had a terrific run! Huge shout out to @kmomof4 for always being my cheerleader and for her exceptional beta skills. A HUGE thank you and many fangirl squeals to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the amazing job she did on the cover art that accompanies this fic. Please go show her some love!

FYI: Because the show took cues from the Grimm brothers’ works, much of the vocabulary associated with the supernatural creatures was based on German or German coded language. For words like wesen and woge (which will be explained in the text) the w is pronounced with a v sound on the show. I’ll be using terminology from the show and more common creature names interchangeably within the fic.

Rated E (eventually) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Prologue

Chapter One

Two and Half Years Later…

“What have we got?”

Killian approached the scene with his partner, Robin. Their mate and uniformed officer, Will, brought them up to speed, keeping his voice low as the men conversed on the walkway that led to the grand house towering before them.

“Grace Hatter. Eight years old. Never made it to school this morning,” Will informed them, reading over his notes. “Father says she left the house at a quarter to eight like usual. An hour later he got the call from the school telling him she was absent.”

“Do we know if he’s clean?” Killian asked, assessing the distraught man who was being questioned by other officers.

“No,” Will replied. “Dad’s name is Jefferson Hatter. We're looking into him.”

“Mom?”

“Deceased.”

“Okay. Thanks, mate. We’ll go have a talk with him.”

Killian and Robin continued up the walkway. When the father caught sight of them, he rushed down the front steps to meet them halfway.

“Are you the detectives?”

“Yes, sir,” Robin responded. “Detectives Locksley and Jones. Can you tell us more about your daughter? When you last her? What she was wearing?”

“Yeah, um…” The man took a moment to try and compose himself. His hand shook as he brought it up to run down his face. A shuddering breath filled his lungs and a sob caught in the back of his throat. “She uh, she left here about 7:45. She’s wearing purple leggings and an oversized, purple top that has a white rabbit on the front of it. She also had on a red hoodie and her backpack is pink and purple with her name on it.”

“Does she often walk by herself to school?”

The man, Jefferson, nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “Ever since the beginning of the school year. She wanted… She wanted to be a big girl this year.” He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the freshly fallen tears drops from his face. “I was reluctant, but the school isn’t far and normally she walks with another little girl and her brother down the block.”

“But not today?” Killian inquired.

“No,” Jefferson answered. “Ava and her brother are both out sick this week. Grace walked alone yesterday, so I didn’t see an issue with her walking alone again today.” His face reddened, the tears now cascading down his cheeks as he pleaded, “Please. You have to find my little girl, please!”

“We’re going to do everything we can,” Robin promised him, digging a card from his pocket. “An officer is going to stay with you as we canvas the neighborhood, but if you think of anything else, give us a call.”

“Th-Thank you, detectives,” Jefferson said, taking the card then following one of the officers back to the house.

“So, what do you think?” Robin said under his breath as they turned back towards the street and surveyed their surroundings.

“If he’s involved then he’s an excellent actor,” Killian replied. “I think it more likely she was grabbed on her way to school. The question is… where?”

The street was lined with houses on one side, facing a wooded park area. The little girl would have made her way to the end of the block then turned to go around the woods. The school was located on the other side, about seven blocks away.

“We’ve spoken with all the neighbors who are home along the route she would have taken,” Will said, joining the detectives. “No one saw anything.”

“Maybe she didn’t take the usual route,” Killian said, jutting his chin towards the woods. “Maybe she took a shortcut.”

“Dad was very specific about the route,” Will told him. “He said Grace wasn’t allowed to cut through the woods.”

“Yeah, and we all know you did everything you were told when you were a kid,” Robin quipped, slapping Will on the back before heading towards the woods.

The three of them followed the worn path, carved out of the foliage by those who had used the woods as a shortcut over the years. Although focused on the task before him, Killian could not help but acknowledge how fortunate he was to do this job with his two best mates at his side.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that had led them here. Two and half years ago, he and Robin had been uniformed officers at different precincts and Will, after washing out of the academy years before, owned a local bar. After being attacked and having his life, once again, turned upside down, Killian had spiraled a bit. Neglectful of his duty and spending too much time at Will’s bar had made him a less than stellar candidate for detective, despite his high scores on the exam. However, everything changed once more the night Will’s bar went up in flames.

Though it had been deemed arson, they still weren’t sure how it had happened. The explosion and fire claimed the lives of more than a dozen officers and detectives from both Storybrooke and Glowerhaven. In the aftermath, personnel had been reshuffled, reassigned, and reevaluated, giving Killian a second chance at a detective slot and transferring Robin to the Storybrooke precinct. Will, determined to bring the perpetrator to justice, had reapplied to the academy and finished top of his class before being assigned to the Storybrooke PD.

Although the arson case had gone cold, Killian and Robin, with an assist from their favorite uniformed patrolman, had managed to garner the highest number of closed cases of any rookie or veteran detectives within the city or its outlying suburbs. Robin often joked that the reason the three of them were so good at this job was because in another life they would have been criminals themselves - and therefore knew how their perps thought - dubbing themselves the pirate, the bandit, and the thief.

Of course, he had no idea that Killian possessed abilities beyond those of a normal human detective which gave him an advantage. Abilities he was currently applying in the hopes of bringing this little girl home safely.

When the trail forked, the trio branched off in separate directions. Once out of sight from his mates, Killian crouched down and closed his eyes, homing in on the sounds around him as he inhaled deeply. Over the years he’d made peace with his wolf side. It wasn’t always easy to keep the wesen reined in, or explain away how he’d been able to accomplish some of the things his supernatural abilities allowed him to do, but as time went on he found ways to balance his human and wesen side.

Not able to pick up anything out of the ordinary, Killian resumed his search further up the path. A moment later, Robin’s voice called out.

“I’ve got something!”

Killian rushed towards Robin’s voice, arriving alongside an out of breath Will. Both men were too focused on the pink and purple backpack laying among the ferns to notice Killian’s lack of exertion.

“Grace Hatter.” Will read the name where it had been monogrammed in bright pink, confirming it belonged to their missing girl. “She must have been grabbed somewhere in this area.”

“Careful where you step,” Killian reminded them. “Will, call it in and inform the others that we have a crime scene in Wonderland Woods Park across from the victim’s house.”

Will stepped away to radio it in, leaving the detectives to peruse the area.

“Killian, we got boot prints here. They look fresh.”

Killian noted the direction of the prints and commented, “He took her this way.” Setting off down the path, he shouted over his shoulder, “Stay with Will until CSU arrives. I’ll see where the prints lead.”

Once out of sight, Killian crouched down again and took in a deep breath. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and a primal growl rumbled in the center of his chest. He could tell the scent was wesen, although he wasn’t sure what species. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Never before, since his transition, had he ever wished for the moon to be in its full cycle. If it were, then his sense of smell would be stronger. He’d be able to discern the little girl’s scent better, as well as her abductor’s, and he’d be able to tell which direction the two had gone once they’d reached the road on the other side of the woods.

Cursing under his breath, Killian made his way back to Robin and Will. The Crime Scene Unit had already arrived and the area was being cordoned off so they could work making casts of the boot prints. Killian eyed Grace’s backpack as it was being bagged and tagged so it could be processed for fingerprints. He wished he’d gotten a chance to scent it, but the K-9 unit was already seeing to the task.

“There isn’t much more we can do here,” Robin told him. “Will and the other officers will follow up on the neighbors they didn’t get a chance to speak with earlier. Maybe one of their security cameras will have caught them coming out of the park.”

“Aye,” Killian said with a resigned sigh.

Clapping Killian on the back, Robin suggested, “Let’s go get some lunch. By the time we’re done, more evidence will have been collected and processed, then we can focus on whatever they found.”

“I suppose I could eat,” Killian relented. Robin was right. There was nothing more they could do that the other officers didn’t already have handled. They’d need their strength and their wits about them for the long afternoon and evening ahead. “Where did you have in mind?”

“How about Aesop’s?”

Killian cocked a brow his partner’s way. “Aesop’s? A bit swanky for lunch isn’t it?”

Robin shrugged. “I hear they have a great burger menu.”

“Mhmm,” Killian hummed. Something in Robin’s demeanor had him dubious as to whether that was the real reason. “I suppose we could check it out,” he replied with a shrug of his own, followed by a wolfish grin. “So long as you’re buying.”

~/~

“So that’s the real reason you wanted to come here,” Killian ribbed in a sing-song tone. “The lovely and elusive Miss Mills.”

Robin’s cheeks flamed pink behind the bun of his burger as he took as long as he possibly could to bite off then chew a mouthful.

“You know this constitutes stalking, right? Why not just ask her out?”

Robin swallowed and chased the bite with a sip of water, once again taking his time running his napkin over his mouth before placing it back in his lap.

“You’re hopeless,” Killian exasperated, getting up from his seat. He shot a wink over his shoulder to his mortified partner as he approached the nearby table, teeming with lawyers in their power suits. “Miss Mills?” he said in a feigned tone of surprise.

“Detective Jones,” she said in a friendly yet reserved greeting. “Funny running into you here?”

“Aye,” he said. “The lunch burger menu was recommended to Robin and me, so we thought we’d give it a go.” He gestured back towards the table Robin was metaphorically trying to hide beneath. Miss Mills - Regina - gave him a wave which he awkwardly reciprocated. “I won’t keep you,” Killian continued. “I was on my way to the facilities when I spotted you and just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you, detective. A pleasure seeing you,” she replied, though her attention was not set on him but rather still subtly fixated on his partner.

When Killian exited the lavatory hall on his way back to the table, he slowed his steps and his lips twitched up in a smile. Robin and Regina were standing at the table conversing as the prosecutor’s colleagues were filing past, on their way out the door. Regina slipped Robin her card, her painted lip caught between her teeth, and he accepted it with a full, bright smile. Killian chuckled to himself, eager to take the mickey out of his friend, when something in Regina’s countenance shifted.

She’d turned towards the door, prepared to follow her colleagues, when her entire body went rigid. Something rippled through her expression and Killian was taken aback by what he saw.

She woged.

Regina Mills was… a hexenbeist?

No. He had to be seeing things. She couldn’t have woged. If she had, the entire restaurant would be in an uproar, especially Robin. There’s no way anyone would have missed the gruesome sight of a hexenbeist revealing her true form. Unless…

No. That wasn’t a possibility either. The full moon wasn’t in cycle yet, so there was no way he could have witnessed a demi-woge. Could he?

Regina’s features returned to normal, but her posture was still stiff and on guard. He followed her eyes to try and determine what had prompted such a response and was stunned to see another woged hexenbeist casually standing by the hostess stand. She had flaming red hair and was dressed in a tight, green dress. When her human face presented itself once more, she wore a smug, slightly challenging smirk.

Finally collecting herself, Regina marched past the woman without a word or backward glance, but the red-haired witch watched her all the way out the door and down the block.

“Did you see that?”

Robin’s question shook Killian from his shock, but a fresh, confused panic spiked within him. “See what?”

“The text,” Robin said, lifting his phone for Killian to see. “We’ve got a body.”

“A body?” Killian parroted, attempting to get his racing heart under control while processing what his partner said.

He didn’t see it, then. Didn’t see them change. Then why did I?

“Not Grace Hatter?” Killian’s heart dropped a little as his mind finally caught up.

“No,” Robin assured him. “Not the missing girl, but the captain wants us to take point on this one, too.” He beckoned Killian to follow him through the tables towards the exit. “I’ve already settled the bill. Will’s waiting for us at the scene.”

Before heading out the door, Killian scanned the restaurant for the red-headed hexenbeist, but saw no sign of her. He tried to shake off the unnerving feeling her and Regina’s woge had elicited in him. The mystery of why he had been able to see it at all would have to wait. He had more pressing issues to concern himself with.

~/~

“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian heard Will ask under his breath. “Looks more like an animal attack?”

For the second time that day, Killian’s hackles rose. The scene before him was familiar. Too familiar. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, making the same inquiry to the detectives working a similar scene. A scene that had led to Killian being attacked and transformed. A scene that had been declared an animal attack after the DNA had come back as inconclusive. A scene where no other evidence had been left behind except…

“We got a boot print!”

Killian’s entire body reacted in a ripple of goose bumps and a sharp inhale confirmed the truth as a familiar scent penetrated his sinuses.

It’s him! He’s back. The blutbad who attacked me. The blutbad who made me. He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s killed again and… HE’S TAKEN GRACE HATTER!

“Oi! Kill, er… detective. You alright?”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, mate.”

Killian’s Apple apple bobbed painfully. “We need to go see the Captain. Now.”

It was a quick ride back to the precinct, though Killian’s silent stewing had probably made it feel longer to his partner. Robin knew him well enough to not pepper him with questions when he was like this, allowing him space to get his thoughts together. It didn’t mean his mate didn’t side-eye him with furtive glances the entire way back to the station, though.

“Captain Gold, do you have a minute?” Killian asked at the open doorway of their captain’s office.

“For my two best detectives? Of course,” Captain Gold said, gesturing them forward. “How’s the investigation going into the missing girl? Or is this about the body we found? A jogger who was a student at the local university?”

“Actually,” Killian hedged, still unsure how he was going to convince his captain and his partner of what he knew to be fact. “It may be about both.”

“Go on.”

Killian and Robin took a seat in front of the captain’s desk. Leaning forward, Killian began to fill them in on what he’d pieced together.

“A little over two years ago, there was a hiker who was attacked in a similar fashion to how we found the jogger today.”

“I remember,” Gold said, nodding his head. “That was ruled an animal attack, wasn’t it?”

“Aye,” Killian said. “The DNA was inconclusive, but that wasn’t the only evidence left at the scene.” Flicking his eyes towards Robin, he said, “There was a boot print. Just like the one at the scene today. And that’s not all…” Sitting back, Killian wiped his hand down his face and let go a heavy breath. “The same day the hiker was attacked and killed, a little girl went missing in Glowerhaven.” Robin’s eyes widened and Killian knew he didn’t need reminding, but the Captain still needed to know. “I know because Robin helped work that case and we were mates back then.” Setting his attention back on his captain, Killian continued. “Look. I’m not saying all these cases are connected, but we did find boot prints where we suspect Grace Hatter was abducted, and it all feels a little suspect to just be coincidence.”

Captain Gold tented his fingers in front of him, and his eyes narrowed at Killian. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, after a few agonizing seconds. “It’s all too coincidental to not look into.” His eyes shifted to Robin. “Locksley, reach out to Glowerhaven and see if you can get a copy of the missing girls file from two years ago. Check it for any similarities to the Grace Hatter case. Jones,” he continued, focusing his attention back on Killian. “Follow-up on the boot print. See if the one from the hiker’s scene matches the jogger’s, then compare it to the ones we found at the abduction site.” With a dismissing nod, he added, “Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Captain,” the two detectives replied on their way out of Gold’s office.

“How did you put all of that together?” Robin asked. “Remembering that girl from more than two years ago who went missing the same day a hiker was mauled? I don’t think I would have put that together.”

“I don’t know,” Killian deflected. “Something about that night just… stuck with me, I guess.”

“Well, good pick up,” Robin said, clapping him on the back. “I’m gonna call GPD, then head over to collect those files. Check in later?”

“Aye,” Killian told him. “Later.”

It took Killian less time to confirm the boot prints were a match at all three scenes than it did for Robin to make it back with the files. Although it proved the crimes may be connected, the boots that matched the prints were a very common brand. It would be nearly impossible to find their suspect that way. Frustrated, Killian shot off a text to Robin and Will, letting them know he was gonna go out for some air.

There had to be a way of finding this monster.

Not that he hadn’t already tried. He’d gone back to the scene of the hiker’s mauling time and time again in search of any clues, hoping to discover the identity of the killer and the wesen who had turned him. Once the case had been cleared from homicide, investigators believing a wolf or mountain lion had caused the grizzly death, there had been little Killian could do inside the law. He’d been too preoccupied with the changes he was facing as a newly made wesen to pursue the blutbad on his own, and too worried about what his brother’s reaction might have been if he’d turned the case over to a Grimm. A Grimm who might have been able to detect such changes in his little brother.

Now, he couldn’t help but feel as though the jogger’s death and the missing girl were his fault. He should have told Liam about the rogue blutbad or gone after it himself.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.

Digging his phone from his pocket, Killian dialed his brother’s number and held his breath as the call rang.

This is Liam Jones. I’m not available to take your call. Leave me a message.

“Liam. It’s Killian. Call me back. I’ve got a situation here that might require your expertise.”

Typical.

Killian’s phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Liam returning the call. Instead, the caller ID displayed Will’s name. Killian knew he’d been pouring over videos collected from neighborhood cameras, and he was eager to hear if he’d found anything that might help them locate the missing girl.

“Will? What you got?”

“Not much,” Will confessed over the phone. “I’ve checked all the cameras we collected from Tweedle Drive, the street the perp would have exited the woods from, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Nothing?” Killian asked, defeated. “From the whole street?”

“Well, there’s a bit we don’t have footage of, but none of the videos show any car, truck, or van he may have used to move the girl. The only vehicle on the street at that time was the mail truck.”

“The mail truck?” Killian repeated, an idea coming to him. “Do me a favor. Find out who was working that route today and whether the postal service issues a certain type of boot for their employees' uniforms.”

“You think it was the postman?”

“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” he told Will. “If nothing else, the postal worker may have seen something. We should track them down as a potential witness.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Text me the name when you’ve got it.”

“Will do.”

A renewed rush of hope filled Killian as he made his way back to the precinct, but it was hindered by a fresh realization.

If the postal worker did turn out to be their suspect, then he wouldn’t be going up against their usual perp. He’d be going up against a wesen. A blutbad. And not just any blutbad… his sire. The one who had turned him. Would he know? Even without the full moon bringing out his wesen characteristics, would his sire be able to tell what he was?

Killian stopped short of the station door and did an about face. He needed to better prepare himself for this confrontation, and there was only one person who would be able to help him do so.

Searching his contacts as he made his way to his vehicle, he prayed this call would not go to voicemail.

His prayer was answered.

“Hello?”

“Swan. It’s me. I need your help.”

~/~

The fingers of her left hand drummed against the counter as the nails on her right were being assaulted by her teeth. Normally, Emma Swan would not allow a situation to unnerve her this way. Of course, it wasn’t the situation, not really, it was the man involved in the situation. The man who only came in once a month to pick up his wolfsbane tonic and share polite pleasantries with her or her brother, who assisted her at the shop. The man who had agreed to keep things between them strictly professional after the one time thing incident that had occurred early on in their association. The man who had kept to that promise… until now.

He wasn’t coming here for his tonic - the full moon was still over a week away. He wasn’t coming here for tea, or spices, or herbal remedies, or anything within the purview of her business. No. He was coming here because he needed help on a case. He was coming here because he had nowhere else to turn. He was coming here because he needed… her.

Although they had managed to keep one another at arm’s length these past two years, it hadn’t been that way at first. The month following his attack and introduction into the wesen world, they had texted and chatted numerous times, having built a rapport by the time of the next full moon.

A rapport that simmered with attraction and temptation.

Fortunately, they had both understood the seriousness underlying his stay with her during that first full moon. Setting aside the obvious chemistry between them, they focused instead on the alchemy of finding the right balance of wolfsbane. Everything had gone as expected… until it hadn’t.

“Emma, sweetie,” Granny said in her admonishing tone. “Are you trying to drive us both mad with your fidgeting?”

“Sorry, Granny,” Emma mumbled, removing her nail from her teeth and flattening both hands on the counter.

The elderly woman’s soft, weathered hand covered hers and she gave it a light, comforting squeeze. “What’s got you all riled up? You said he was a regular customer.” Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. “Is it because he’s a lycanthrope?” Patting Emma’s hand she assured, “I may not look it, but I can still hold my own. If he gets unruly, then--”

“No, it’s not like that,” Emma said, cutting the woman off in a rush, not wishing her to get the wrong impression. “Detective Jones is much more disciplined than lycanthropes are believed to be. He’s… he’s a good man.”

“Then why on earth are you worked up in such a state?” Granny inquired. “I can practically smell the anxiety and tension wafting off of you.”

Emma chewed her bottom lip, then silently cursed herself. Get a grip, Emma. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she straightened her posture and schooled her features. “It’s nothing.”

Granny let out a dubious hum. “Try again,” she said. “If you want me to help a lycanthrope - and a detective to boot - that has you all tied up in knots then you’re gonna have to give me a reason.”

Emma released a heavy sigh. She knew Granny was right. The woman was going out on a limb for her, the least she could do was give her the truth.

Given that she expected the detective to arrive at any moment, Emma quickly told Granny about her and Killian’s first meeting, and the subsequent month that had followed.

“Sounds like the two of you became fast friends,” Granny remarked, though Emma thought she could detect something slightly off in the woman’s tone. “What happened?”

Glancing at the door, Emma wasn’t sure if she was irritated or relieved that he hadn’t arrived yet. She’d never told anyone what had happened.

“He came to stay with me for the full moon, as planned,” she began.

“Here?” Granny asked, knowing the proprietor lived above her shop.

“Yes,” Emma confirmed. “In my spare room. I wanted us to be close to the workshop so I could make adjustments on the fly.”

“What do you mean?”

Swallowing, Emma told Granny about the experiments they did, testing the effectiveness of the wolfsbane. “Things like, provoking his temper and trying to elicit responses that were more primal,” she hedged, with half a shrug of her shoulder, “to see how well he could keep control under such stimuli.”

“And?” Granny prompted. “How did he do?”

“He did great,” Emma said, then winced slightly as she added, “Until August showed up.”

A knowing huff left Granny. “Yeah. I’d imagine the presence of another male might have set him off a bit. Did your brother come away unscathed?”

“Barely,” Emma replied. “Killian didn’t know who August was and when he saw him hugging me he… woged.”

“As in… fully?”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been intense for all of you.”

“It was,” Emma sighed. “I had to use magic to diffuse the situation, but once cooler heads prevailed and I was able to introduce the two of them, I thought things were resolved.”

“Until?”

Emma’s mind flashed back to the morning after he’d woged and tried to attack August. The morning after the final full moon.

“So… you made it through your first full moon.”

“Aye. Thanks to you, love.”

“No need to thank me,” she told him. “I should be thanking you.”

“For?”

“For not ripping out my idiot brother’s throat,” she said in a tone mixed with amusement and annoyance. “I told him not to come here this weekend, but does he listen?”

Killian hummed, a sultry, toe-curling sound, and sauntered forward. “Perhaps gratitude is in order then?” he murmured, tapping his lips suggestively with a raised brow and challenging smirk.

“Yeah,” she said, a little breathlessly. “That’s what the thank you was for.”

Another sinful sound echoed past his lips as he pressed further into her personal space. “Is that all your brother’s life is worth to you?”

“Please,” she scoffed with an eye roll, trying, and failing, to get her heart rate under control, knowing full well he could probably hear its erratic beat. “You couldn’t handle it.”

The corner of his lips lifted in a feral and taunting manner. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

The crack of the t against his tongue reverberated through her, and without thought she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, fusing her mouth to his. It took him the briefest of seconds to respond, inhaling deeply before thoroughly devouring her.

It was hot. It was primal. It was all-consuming.

“That was…”

It was a big fucking mistake.

“A one time thing,” she murmured, pulling back from his chasing lips. “We… we can’t do this. I… I can’t do this.”

Releasing him, she took several steps back, unable to meet his eye or look upon his confused expression.

“Swan,” he panted, both of them still working to catch their breath. “Have I… Have I done something? I know attacking your brother was bad form. Please don’t think I’m unaware of the seriousness of that--”

“No, it’s… it’s not that,” she said. “I know you didn’t really have control over--”

“Then what?” he asked. “What’s changed?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma rocked back on her heels and said, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to… I mean… this is all new to you and the last thing we both need is to complicate an already complex situation. I think it would be best if we… kept things professional between us.”

She braced herself for his response, expecting him to be angry. Expecting him to accuse her of leading him on, or taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable. She hadn’t expected him to run a hand through his hair while letting go a heavy sigh before agreeing with her.

“Aye,” he said, softly. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps now is not the best time to…” Flicking his too blue gaze up to hers, he gave her an earnest smile. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Swan. I think I’ll be able to manage on my own now, thanks to you.”

“You’ll still need the tonic each month,” she reminded him with a slight edge of panic in her voice. She didn’t mean for their association to end altogether. “And you can still call or text me if you have questions about--”

“Thank you,” he interjected, cutting her off before she could continue with her offer. “I’ll swing in for the tonic in a month’s time. I’ll be sure to let you know if there are any issues regarding the treatment.” Reaching up, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear. “I, uh… I should go. I have a shift in an hour.”

“Right,” she said, letting him pass so he could collect his things from where he’d set them by the door. “See you next month?”

“Aye, Swan,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the shop. “See you then.”

“Only… I didn’t see him then,” she told Granny. “I chickened out and left the order with August.”

“Are you telling me,” Granny chastised, “that you haven’t seen that young man since--”

“No!” Emma replied, indignantly. “Of course I’ve seen him. We just… it’s been…” Another heavy sigh expelled out of her lungs. “After our… shared moment, I did avoid him for a bit and I know he struggled to cope with his transition, which made me feel worse about how we left things, but then there was this fire at his friend’s bar, and he made detective, and I don’t know… something about him changed. Things were less weird when he came in and we managed to carve out this nice, albeit superficial, relationship and yet--”

“The feelings are still there?”

Emma laughed a rather hysterical sounding laugh. “Uh, no. No feelings. I mean, obviously I care about him, as a person, but my current demeanor has nothing to do with feelings.”

“Oh? What does it have to do with, then?”

Emma didn’t get a chance to answer the woman’s smug question. The bell over the door chimed and the two women's heads snapped in its direction. In walked Killian Jones, as handsome and alluring as ever.

“Swan,” he greeted with a reverential nod. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” she managed to choke out, her mouth having gone dry. Clearing her throat, she gestured towards Granny and introduced, “This is, uh, Granny Lucas. She runs the new B&B and diner up the street. I thought she might be able to help. Granny, this is Detective Jones.”

“Please,” he said, taking Granny’s hand and offering it a polite shake. “Killian will do.”

“A pleasure to meet you, detective,” Granny said, obviously sizing him up. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“Meaning?”

Her gaze still assessing him, Granny quipped, “Most lycanthropes have me wanting to rip out their throats within seconds of meeting them, but you… you’re different.”

Killian’s brows shot up and his eyes flicked to Emma even as he continued to address Granny. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage,” he said a little too calmly. “You know about me, yet I have no idea why Swan brought you in on--”

“Granny’s a blutbad,” Emma blurted out, causing his brows to raise even higher as his head snapped back to the elderly woman. “I thought, seeing as you said your case had something to do with a blutbad, and that you needed more information about them, that you’d like to have your questions answered by someone who--”

“Not just any blutbad,” he said, cutting her off in a tone laced with menace and anger. “The blutbad.”

Emma gasped. “The one who turned you?”

“Aye.” His gaze turned dark and his features hardened. “He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s even taken a little girl captive.”

“That’s terrible,” Emma said, keeping herself from reaching out to offer him a hand of comfort. “When did you--”

“Today,” he told her, catching both women up on the case of the little girl and the jogger and how he’d connected them to the cases from over two years ago.

“We found matching boot prints at the crime scenes, but I also detected his scent at each location. I knew there was something familiar about it, but didn’t put it together until I smelled it mixed with the jogger’s blood. It brought back the olfactory memory of that night,” he said, momentarily getting lost in thought until he shook his head and added, “Of course… I can’t enter that into evidence. Fortunately, we have a lead, but I am wary of confronting him without knowing more.”

“More?” Granny said, her countenance a bit stand-offish and very imposing. “Like what?”

“Like,” Killian hedged, wetting his lips and taking a moment to assess Granny as she had him. “Whether I’ll be able to know him by scent even if he isn’t woged. Typically, I can’t detect wesen by scent whilst they’re in their human form or see them demi-woge unless it's the full moon, so I can only assume he was in full woge when he abducted the girl and attacked the jogger.”

Granny remained stoic and stone-faced, still unsure whether she should trust the gemacht wesen in front of her.

“Look,” Killian said with a tone of authority Emma imagined he employed often in his line of work. “I know there’s a code among wesen. This desire to look after one's own kind. But this guy is a killer. He’s killed two people that we know of and may, even now, be holding a little girl captive, so please. Help me find him. Help me find her.”

The reminder of the little girl softened Granny’s features. “If he’s done what you say he has, then he’s putting us all at risk.” Quickly, she flicked her gaze to Emma then back to him, conceding, “You’re right. There is a code among wesen, but it only extends so far. It sounds to me like this blutbad has gone feral, and his behavior is only going to escalate the longer he’s allowed to run wild.”

“Then… you’ll help me?”

Her posture relaxed further and she stepped up to the counter, bringing her closer to both Killian and Emma. Nodding, she said, “Yes, I’ll help you.”

A relieved breath fell from Emma’s lips and she took Granny’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, Granny.”

Granny patted her hand then straightened her shoulders, getting down to business. “Now, I’m no expert on lycanthropes, but unless he fully woges, I don’t think you’ll be able to tell whether your suspect is the blutbad you’re looking for. If he is feral, then it wouldn’t take too much to provoke a response, but you’d have to be ready. Once he woges… he’ll be out for blood.”

Emma saw a shudder pass over the detective and she wondered if he was remembering his own experience with an uncontrolled woge.

“What about the girl?” Killian asked. “What motive would he have for taking her?”

Granny pursed her lips together then hesitantly replied. “If he’s feral, and attacked someone before, then he’s likely gotten a taste for human blood.” Killian and Emma both grimaced, sickened by the notion. “I’d wager he attacked and fed on that jogger first. Probably lost control. He knows he’ll be good for another week until the urge takes hold again, but by then it’ll be the full moon and it’ll be risky for him to be out and about. He probably took the girl in preparation of making a meal of her later. Taking her now gives him time to fatten her up.”

Emma thought she might be sick, and while she could see the shared disgust in Killian’s face, she also saw rage.

Granny caught his eye and imparted, “Having her will make him even more territorial and dangerous. So you’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Will he, uh…” Killian began, haltingly. “Will he be able to discern who I am? What I am?”

“No,” Granny said, shaking her head. “I only made that quip about lycanthropes because Emma had already told me what you are… and I wanted to see how you’d react. You ought to know by now that wesen can only sense you during the full moon.”

“Aye, but he isn’t just any wesen,” Killian countered. “He’s my maker. Are you sure that won’t have an effect?”

“I don’t see why it would.”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a reluctant question seemed to pause at the tip of his tongue.

“So there won’t be any… connection between us, then? No weird side effort of my turning that would make me sympathetic towards him or beholden in some way?”

Granny scoffed and cocked an amused brow at him. “Such sire bonds only exist in fiction.”

Killian’s head fell in relief and Emma could now detect how much tension he must have been carrying over that worry.

“Gemacht sometimes latch on to those who aid and guide them through their transition, and many times that is the wesen who turned them, so if you were to have bonded onto someone it would have been the person who was there for you at the beginning of and during your first change.”

Killian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Emma’s. Her heart stuttered, then began pounding in her chest while her breath remained trapped in her lungs.

Granny’s gaze volleyed between the two of them, her heading tilting to one side as she quipped, “I suppose that explains the pent up tension I’ve been sensing between you two.” A warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth in response to their awkward reaction to the call out, and she assured them, “Don’t worry. The bond was temporary. I dare say enough time has passed that it would be gone altogether.” Her no nonsense demeanor returned as she focused her attention solely back on Killian and asked, “Anything else?”

Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Killian cleared his throat and said, “Just one last thing… Do you know who this blutbad might be?”

“Afraid not,” Granny told him with obvious regret in not being able to provide him a name. “I only relocated to Storybrooke a few months ago, and I find it best to avoid my kind as much as possible.” Her eyes fell down to the counter and on a bit of a grumble she added, “Bad things happen when we get into a pack. Especially when we see red.”

Killian’s eyes went wide.

“What?” Emma asked. “What is it?”

Killian locked eyes with her once more. “The little girl. Grace. She was last seen wearing a red hoodie. And the jogger and hiker both had on red jackets when their remains were found.”

“So, red provokes him?” Emma said, shaking her head in confusion. “But you weren’t wearing red when he attacked you. You were in uniform.”

“Which,” Granny interjected, “along with your natural demeanor of dominance and authority, he would have seen as a threat.”

“Which means he’ll likely view me as a threat when I confront him.”

“Most likely,” Granny warned. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and Emma knew she needed to get going so she could get back to the diner before the evening rush. “My advice,” she said, rounding the counter on her way out. “When you do confront him, do it alone. You don’t want him to feel trapped or backed into a corner, and if things go badly…”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Extending her hand, Granny offered him a sincere expression as he accepted the gesture. “Take care of yourself, Detective. I hope you can bring him to justice, but if not… bring him down any way you can.”

With that, she said a quick goodbye to Emma then exited the shop.

“Tough old bird,” Killian said in her wake, causing Emma to huff out an amused breath.

“Yeah. Granny is… something else.”

“Terrifying, I believe is the word you’re looking for,” he quipped with a light chuckle.

The two shared a laugh then stood awkwardly regarding one another for a long moment before Killian cleared his throat and said, “Um… thank you, Swan. I truly appreciate your help. I didn’t know who else to--”

“It was nothing,” Emma blurted out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I was happy you called and that I could…”

Her words fell away and a wash of something akin to embarrassment or bashfulness swept over her. Her face was hot and her palms were starting to get slick.

You're being ridiculous, Emma. You’re not a silly school girl unsure of what to say to her crush. In fact… you don’t have a crush. This isn’t a crush. This is--

Killian’s phone chimed with a notification. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the text and his grip tightened to the point that Emma feared he’d crack the screen.

“Killian? What is it?”

Slowly, Killian’s eyes lifted and met hers. The look that swirled in those blue depths made her breath hitch.

“We found him, Swan.” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand in a way that caused her to shiver.

“Who is he?” she asked in a whisper, only vaguely aware that she was rounding the counter to move towards him.

His eyes never left hers and once she was standing before him, they flickered between her own as he answered. “His name is Quinn Adair. His address puts him outside of the city. Out in the woods.”

Emma swallowed hard as an eruption of worry filled her chest. “Are you… You’re not going to go after him now are you?”

“I have to, Swan,” he insisted. “He has Grace, remember? I have to get to her before he…”

Emma nodded, knowing that time was of the essence for that poor girl who was probably terrified out of her mind.

“Just… be careful?” she said, wetting her lips, which caused his gaze to drop down briefly. “And, um… Call me later so I know how it… so I know the girl is okay… and you.”

“Aye,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I will. I promise.”

She expected him to rush out after that, but he continued to stand there. Conflicted.

“Swan, I know this isn’t the time, but… what Granny said earlier. About us. About the bond that might have been created between us. Was that… Was that the reason you pulled away? Did you suspect?”

“Killian, I…” Emma didn’t know what to say. It would certainly be a plausible reason to give him. One that was safer than the truth.

It would be a lie, though.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving off the question and sparing her from having to answer. “As Granny said, whatever was going on between us at the time, it’s likely run its course, so…”

“So?”

Stepping forward, Killian grabbed her hand and lightly held it in his. A rush of goosebumps swept up her arm when his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“So… Maybe when this case is solved and things go back to relative normalcy, we could… try again?”

“Try again?” Emma parroted. A contradictory cocktail of hope, elation, dread, and panic collided within her as her good sense warred with her wants and desires.

“As friends, I mean,” he clarified, and in tamping down her own disappointment she missed the tone of it in his voice. “We had the start of something I was beginning to cherish and I miss…”

“Me, too,” she told him, turning her hand in his so she could give it a squeeze. Maybe it was reckless. She’d avoided close relationships all her life for a reason, and yet… “I’d love to start again. As friends.”

His smile took her breath away, but it was quickly schooled so he could focus on the dangerous task that lay before him.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, filled with concern about him facing his maker alone. “I know Granny said not to make him feel trapped or backed into a corner, but I doubt he’d see me as a threat. And I doubt he’d be expecting a witch.”

His lip curled up on one side. “As much as I would love to see him go up against your magic, I won’t put you in harm's way like that.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he quickly added, “Besides. I need to try and do this by the book. I’m a cop before anything else.”

“I get that,” Emma relented, begrudgingly. “But I’m going to keep my phone close by in case you get in over your head and change your mind.”

“In over my head?” he said in feigned offense. “I’ll have you know, love,” he murmured in a low timber, edging a bit closer to her. “If there is one thing I’m good at… it’s surviving.”

“Mhmm,” Emma hummed, meeting his taunting expression of challenge with one of her own. “Well, I’m going to insist that you stop by afterward in order to prove that to me.”

He smiled down at her, another message alerting from his phone, indicating it was past time for him to go.

“As you wish.”

Chapter Two - Coming Soon!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

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@the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper

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#cs ff #csff #cs fic #csfic #cs au #captain swan #Grimm!Killian #Wolf!Killian #Witch!Emma #cssns24 #words by hollye

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hollyethecurious · 3 months ago

Text

CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (1/?)

I had hoped to be further along in writing this before my posting date, but alas… ‘tis not the case. This is turning out to be a much bigger beast than I intended and will likely be one of the longer fics I have written to date. That said, I do want to attempt to keep to some sort of schedule, so for now, I will be posting every two weeks in the hopes that I can bank more chapters and eventually update more frequently.

Rated E (eventually) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Prologue:

The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. The Grimm brothers had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions.

Wesen. That’s what one of the Grimm brothers had called them in their other writings; in the journals and manuscripts they’d kept, cataloging these beings who walked among humans, yet were anything but.

Though Jacob Grimm had not been the first of his kind - those who were capable of seeing these creatures, these wesen, for what they truly were - for whatever reason, the men and women who possessed this same ability, this same birthright, would primarily become known as Grimms throughout the wesen world.

Perhaps it was because of how meticulously the elder Grimm brother had kept records, or how he had been the first to re-establish connections and relationships with others of his kind for the first time in many centuries, allowing the exchange of knowledge and organizing a more methodical way of dealing with the creatures their forefathers believed must be eradicated.

Though no one knew how or why, at some point, long before the brothers penned their first novel - no doubt inspired by the eldest brother’s encounters and retold as folklore by the younger - those who now called themselves Grimms had taken up the responsibility to protect humans from wesen, slaughtering entire bloodlines of these creatures without hesitation or remorse.

Never considering that they themselves weren’t exactly human either.

For just as wesen were born unto wesen, Grimms were born into Grimm families. The ability to see the truth, literally, passed through the family bloodlines, but there was only ever one Grimm in a family at a time. Possessing special abilities, Grimms had superior strength and stamina, as well as an ability to heal faster from injury. They were quick studies in the use of weaponry and had a natural talent for art and story-telling, which was a necessary trait given that they were compelled to chronicle all of their wesen encounters.

However, the most important gift was their ability to see a wesen woge when others could not.

A woge was when a creature would change from their human to wesen form, revealing their true, animalistic or nightmarish self. Although humans were capable of seeing a creature for what they truly were should it woge fully, most woges were a half measure, a demi-woge as some called it, only perceptible to other wesen - because they possessed wesen sight - and Grimms who could use this trait to identify their next target. However, it was also during a wesen’s woge, demi or full, that they could, in turn, identify a Grimm as well.

While Grimms only existed through birthright - a new one obtaining his or her powers when the previous Grimm in their family line died - not all creatures were born wesen. Some were made. Which, in the Grimms’ eyes, was one of the reasons they were so dangerous. Although gemacht - created - wesen were typically outcasts, and not favorably looked upon within wesen culture, the fact that some creatures had the ability to curse humans with a bastardization of their form, giving them the worst of their traits, was more than enough reason to eradicate their kind.

Some Grimms wondered whether wesen created these halflings as a way to throw suspicion off themselves, leaving Grimms to deal with these feral, newly turned and disoriented wesen while the pure-blooded wesen made their escape. Perhaps they were created for these types of distraction or even as a way for wesens to draw the attention of Grimms towards rival groups, using the hunters to dispatch their enemies for them. Whatever the reason, gemacht wesen were typically hunted by Grimms and wesen alike, considered by both sides to be an abomination, therefore, little was known about them, but there were some records within the logs kept in Grimm families, if one cared to look.

Killian Jones, however, had no interest in looking, or knowing, or learning, or indeed, having anything to do with his family’s Grimm legacy.

He and his brother, Liam, had been raised with the knowledge of their mother’s family’s ancestry. She had been the Grimm for her family line, until her death when Liam was sixteen and Killian twelve. A car accident that had claimed both of their parents' lives, and had altered Liam’s. Violently.

Upon Alice’s death, Liam had acquired the powers and abilities of the Grimm, but not the discipline or the skills to hone them. Fate, being the fickle, wretched bitch that she was, had placed the Jones brothers into a foster family of klaustreich, an alley-cat type creature that was prone to aggression and cruelty, as well as jealousy and a sense of possessiveness towards anything or anyone they felt a proprietary pull towards. Not typically known for their altruism, they likely only fostered children for the paycheck and as the Jones boys could attest, often mistreated and abused their charges.

The boys might well have been able to endure if the klaustreich son had not, in an attempt to intimidate and scare Killian into submission, woged with Liam in the room. Once the family had identified Liam as a Grimm, all hell had broken loose.

Fortunately, as most Grimms did, Alice Jones had made preparations in the event of her and her husband’s death, leaving the care of her sons and the knowledge of her bloodline in the hands of a fellow Grimm, Nemo. A longtime friend of the family, Nemo had, unfortunately, been overseas when he’d heard the news of Alice and Brennan’s demise. Having just arrived in town with the intention of taking custody of the boys, he showed up to the house with the authorities on the very same day the cat had been let out of the bag, so to speak.

Battered and bruised, but none too worse for wear, the Jones boys - who had fought off the feral, feline family and barricaded themselves in one of the rooms - were removed from the home, and into Nemo’s care. The clowder of klaustreichs was arrested by the police, who thought they had stumbled upon yet another sad, but all too common case of child abuse and neglect within the foster system.

That tussle with Liam was not the last time the klaustreichs met a Grimm in battle. However, the next one did not end as favorably for them. Nemo made certain of that.

Shouldering the responsibility left to him, Nemo moved the boys to Maine for a fresh start. By all outward appearances they lived a normal life, but nothing could have been further from the truth, although Killian certainly was allowed more normalcy than his brother.

After school, the boys had to endure hours of instruction, learning the various types of wesen and the most effective ways of killing each of them. Decapitation seemed to be the most popular choice among their Grimm ancestors, earning them the secondary moniker of dēcapit��re, as noted in the journals they kept in the basement of their Nantucket style house. That was until a break in had made Nemo overly cautious, causing him to acquire a second property - an old, abandoned, paint factory warehouse - where he’d fashioned an off the grid, bunker-style safe house on the harbour. He moved all of the Grimm artifacts, manuscripts, weapons, and supplies there, while keeping he, Liam, and Killian in the family home for appearances.

As the years passed and the boys grew older, Nemo and Liam spent less and less time at home. Often they crashed at the safehouse after a late night of sparing or studying, or they would be gone for days at a time… hunting. Though he missed his brother, Killian had reconciled the fact that he’d effectively lost him the day of their parent’s accident. Nothing had been the same between them since Liam had become a Grimm, but that did not mean they did not still care for and love one another. They just weren’t as close as they had once been, and they likely never would be.

After Killian had graduated high school and went off to college, the three men had effectively gone their separate ways. Nemo had fulfilled his promise and duty to Alice, and Liam had his own path as a Grimm to forge. During undergrad, Killian got a chance to embrace a true sense of normalcy for the first time in his life. Campus life, girls, classes, girls, parties, girls; he relished it all and even found his calling during one of the university's many job fairs and recruitment events. With his degree in criminology completed, he enlisted in the police academy and quickly worked his way through the ranks of the Storybrooke Police Department, located in the very town Nemo had moved them to all those years ago.

Though the Nantucket style house had long been sold, Nemo had transferred the deed of the safehouse to Liam and Killian, using false names and a dummy corporation in order to hide the identity of its true owners. While Killian wanted nothing to do with his family’s legacy, and had gone to great pains to try and forget the horrors he had learned about as an adolescent, he had relented when Liam begged him to take up residence at the safehouse for his own protection.

“Please, little brother,” Liam pleaded over the phone, the sketchy connection muffling Killian’s petulant response of ‘younger’ before he continued, “I know you want to distance yourself from me and our heritage, but if the wrong sort of wesen found out you were related to a Grimm, then--”

“Aye, I know,” Killian said with an exasperated sigh. “Having a Grimm brother puts a target on my back. I’m not a fool, Liam.”

“Then you’ll live at the safehouse?” Liam pressed. “And you won’t ever tell anyone or bring anyone there? You swear?”

“I swear.”

He’d been good to his word. Though he rented a modest studio apartment in the city so that he might have a physical address to keep on file with his work and avoid questions, his real residence for the past several years had been the loft in the safehouse, one level up from the bunker that still held remnants and reminders of who his family truly was, books and artifacts Liam had left behind when he’d filled a trailer and left Storybrooke for bloodier horizons. Books and artifacts Killian was determined to ignore, even if part of the agreement in him staying there was that he’d watch over things and keep them protected.

Perhaps, if he’d ever taken the time to look through those manuscripts when he’d dusted and oiled their bindings and covers, he would have realized the danger he’d fall victim to before it was too late.

~/~

“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian asked the detectives who were about to leave the gruesome scene. He was still just a uniformed officer, but his application to take the detectives exam had been accepted and he was eager to work crime scenes through a detective's eye. “Looks more like an animal attack.”

“DNA will tell us for sure,” one of them said while scribbling down something in his notebook. “Make sure the scene stays secure while CSU finishes their work.” Shooting him an apologetic look, he added, “I’m afraid it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Will do, detective,” Killian replied, lifting the crime tape for them, so they could pass under it and make their way back to their vehicle. Their heated vehicle with comfortable seats and snacks likely stashed away in the glove compartment.

Killian sighed and turned his attention back to the grisly site where a hiker had been found mauled and torn to pieces, with no clue as to what could have done such a thing except, strangely enough, a lone, fresh, boot print that had not belonged to the victim. He had asked whether this was truly a case of homicide because that was the question other officers and even some of the techs had been asking, but in reality Killian had his own suspicions. Suspicions that might have him calling his brother later should the case be deemed an animal attack, knowing full well it had not been an animal who had caused such carnage. He may not remember much from the lessons Nemo had tried to teach him alongside Liam, but he knew enough to suspect that this attack had been committed by a wesen. And a brutal one at that.

Killian’s pocket buzzed and he reached in to retrieve his cell phone, groaning silently at who was on the other end of the line.

“What is it, Will?” he answered. “I don’t have time for whatever it is you’re calling about. I’m trying to secure a crime scene.”

“Aw, come on, Jones. Not you, too. It’s Friday night, the moon is full, you ought to be out on the town and livin’ it up!”

Killian tried to stifle a half smile, then asked, “What do you mean, not you, too?”

“Rob’s gotten roped into extra duty tonight as well,” his mate informed him. “Something about a missing girl over in Glowerhaven.”

Glowerhaven, like Storybrooke, was a suburb of the larger city Killian’s precinct had partial jurisdiction in. Robin, Will, and Killian had all met at the police academy and despite Will washing out several months in and Rob being assigned to a different precinct, they’d all remained close over the years. Will now ran a bar at the epicenter of the intersecting lines of the city, Glowerhaven, and Storybrooke, and often tried to make it a hub for his mates and their uniformed colleagues.

Unfortunately, it sounded as though the SPD and the GPD would be too busy with their respective cases to live it up anywhere, much less at Will’s bar.

“Sorry, mate,” Killian commiserated. “Afraid I’ve got a long night ahead of me as well. Rain check?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will replied in a feigned disgruntled tone. “I’ve heard that before. I’ll add it to your growing tab of IOUs.”

“I promise I’m good for it.”

“Yeah, sure.” A more serious sigh crackled over the line before Will added, “Take care and watch your back out there, mate. The world is full of crazies.”

“Will do,” Killian promised, ending the call then muttering to himself, “Don’t I know it.”

For the next several hours Killian vigilantly patrolled the perimeter of the crime scene while the techs gathered evidence. It was just after midnight when the CSU officer in charge told him they were finished.

“Do you need me to have one of my guys stay to help you finish clearing the scene?”

“No,” Killian replied, waving them off. “You lot still have hours of work ahead of you.” With his thumb in his belt and his hip cocked to one side, Killian jutted his chin towards the scene and said, “It’s only a bit of tape and one final patrol. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” the tech said, already motioning for their people to pack up their things and head out.

Killian watched the vans depart and began tearing down the police tape they’d used to cordon off the area. The techs had left behind one of their flood lights for him to use while finishing his own tasks, but after he stowed it away in his cruiser he realized how unnecessary that had been. The moon was bright enough for him to do a final patrol with the assistance of his flashlight to illuminate the hidden areas within the trees’ shadows.

He’d just finished a sweep of the perimeter when the skin at the back of his neck prickled and his hair began to stand on end. The area, which moments ago had been softly soundtracked by an ambiance of crickets and distant hoots of owls, had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Reaching down to his holster, he flicked loose the restraining strap with his thumb before palming his side arm. “Who’s there?” Killian called out as more prickles of unease crept over his skin and up his spine. “Storybrooke PD! Identify yourself!”

Movement flickered in his periphery and the quick succession of snapping twigs alerted him to someone fleeing the scene.

“Halt!” he yelled out while in hot pursuit with his gun drawn. “Storybrooke PD, I demand you stop and identify yourself!”

Barely able to keep pace, Killian chased after the suspect. His attempt to call in the incident over the radio on his shoulder had been met with static as he was clearly too far out of range. Not wishing to lose the perp, he did not want to risk digging his phone from his pocket, lest it slow him down. The pursuit lasted for an agonizing length of time, drawing Killian deeper and deeper into the woods, his legs burning and his lungs screaming from the extreme exertion.

He finally stopped after bursting into a clearing, biting back curses under his heaving breaths for having lost sight of the suspect. Holstering his weapon, he doubled over with his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. A painful stitch began to form at his side and sweat from his forehead threatened to blur his vision.

The snap of a branch was the only warning he had before something solid collided with him, knocking him to the ground. Inhuman snarls and the gnashing of teeth curdled Killian’s blood even before he caught sight of the monstrous wesen he was currently trying to fight off with all his might.

Blutbad. The Big, Bad Wolf. In full woge and ready to tear Killian’s throat out.

With his left forearm braced against the beast’s neck in an attempt to keep its canines from getting any closer, Killian reached down to try and retrieve his gun. Searing pain ripped through his arm. The blutbad had chosen to sink its teeth into the nearest bit of flesh he could get to, and Killian screamed as the bite turned to tearing. A shot went off, startling the creature and forcing him to release his prey, and it took Killian a moment to realize he had fired the weapon while in the throes of agony. Nearly blinded by the pain, Killian sat up and took aim at the fleeing blutbad, but could not manage to get another shot off before it disappeared into the trees. Shakily, he got to his feet, a howl in the distance making his blood run cold and causing his entire body to shake.

He had to get out of the woods. He had to call for back-up. He had to…

Stumbling, he headed back towards his cruiser. At least… he thought he was heading that direction. Brambles and branches scraped against his face and caught on his uniform while everything around him turned hazy. Off to his left he could see the flicker of a campfire. No. That wasn’t right. There were no campsites in this part of the forest, only hiking trails with strict policies regarding nighttime use. He headed towards the flames anyway and had to shield his eyes when he got closer, the light practically blinding him.

“Is anyone… is anyone there?” he called out, weakly, even as his other senses were being assaulted. He could smell a pungent mix of ingredients but had not the knowledge to identify them. There had been a grating sound of stone scrapping stone that had stopped when he’d entered the site, and it had been followed by a gasp that he was certain had meant to be soft and nearly silent, yet it had rang clearly in his ears.

Unable to hold himself up, Killian collapsed to the ground, his entire body shaking violently and causing his teeth to chatter together. Footfalls pounded against the ground like a drumline and he managed to pry his eyes open in time to see a woman rushing to his side.

“H-Help,” he pleaded. His arm was still on fire from the pain while his body was wracked by chills. When the women bent over him, he was certain he was starting to become delirious as well. What other explanation could there be for an angel to appear to him?

“What happened?” she asked, looking him over. “Were you--”

“Attacked,” he choked out, lifting his arm so she could see his wound.

Peeling back the torn remains of his uniform, she examined the bite mark and her face grew pale and pensive.

“Oh, no,” she murmured.

Quickly, she stood and rushed back to where she’d come from. Killian tilted his head backward to try and keep his eyes on her, not wanting to let her out of his sight for several reasons. The scraping sound returned as she began to grind something with her mortar and pestle and though he could not decipher the words, he could hear them slip from her lips in a chant. Blackness began to creep from the corners of his vision, but not before he saw an unnatural shimmer erupt from beneath her skin. The last coherent thought he had before slipping into oblivion was that she must be an angel, because witches did not possess such beauty when they woged.

Quite the opposite really.

~/~

His body was stiff, his clothes soaked through from sweat, causing him to shiver. Attempting to pry his eyes open he coughed past the cottony feel lining his mouth and throat, then groaned when he began to shift positions.

“Don’t sit up too fast,” a soft, feminine voice warned him.

A hand pressed against his chest and the padding of whatever he was laying on dipped. Blinking, he tried to focus his vision, but had to clamp his eyes shut again when the soft lighting of the room blinded him.

“Bloody hell, that’s bright!”

“Oh, right!” the woman said. He could feel the bedding move as she did, and the room dimmed behind his eyelids. “There,” she said a bit further away now. “That should be better.”

Forcing his eyes open, he winced in anticipation. Fortunately, the lighting was easier on his vision now, so he took the opportunity to survey his surroundings. Bottles and canisters filled wooden shelves of deeply stained and aged cases that lined the long walls of the room. There was a massive workbench in the center of the space with a door at the far end. Behind him was a large, curtained window that overlooked the street. He could hear the occasional car and sounds of the city beyond. Beside him was a cased opening that led out to another space. Some sort of shop, by the looks of it. Spices and aromatics danced on his tongue and made his sinuses flare and itch.

Achoo!

“Bless you,” the voice said from the shadows next to the opening, and the blond angel from the forest emerged with a wary, yet concerned expression.

“You,” Killian said in a scratchy and unfamiliar voice. He tried to clear his throat, but it was too dry. Undeterred, he said, “You’re the woman from the woods. The hex, uh… hexen…” He cursed himself for not being able to remember the wesen term for witch.

“A hexenbeist?” she supplied with a tone of surprise.

“Aye!” Killian replied a little too enthusiastically, erupting into a fit of coughs.

Her expression and posture still guarded, she took a few steps towards him, assessing him with her brilliant green eyes. “You know about… us?” she said. “Wesen?”

“Aye,” he replied in a tone of gravel.

“How?”

Again, Killian tried to clear his throat, but he seemed incapable of producing any saliva.

“Could I trouble you for some water?”

The request snapped her out of her wary, slightly accusatory stance, and she quickly made her way to a small fridge at the back of the room. Killian considered his answer carefully as she grabbed a water bottle and brought it back to him, giving himself a few extra seconds to craft his response as he slowly sipped the water and coaxed moisture back into his throat, knowing she’d likely ask him again…

“So, how do you know about wesen?”

“I, uh…” he began, working through a few more coughs and deciding that something close to the truth would be best. “I had the misfortune of being fostered by a family of klaustreichs after my parents died. The son took great pleasure in tormenting me with his woged state.” His brows knit together and he cocked his head to the side as he glanced up at her. “How did you know I wasn’t just wesen myself?”

The pinched look of concern returned to her features and her gaze slipped from his down to his bandaged arm. “Because of that,” she told him. “If you were wesen then it wouldn’t have…”

She turned and grabbed one of the chairs resting against the wall. Bringing it over, she set it next to the bed then lowered herself onto the seat with a resolved and resigned sigh.

“You knowing about wesen is going to make this a little easier to explain, but it by no means is going to make it easier to accept.”

“Make what easier to accept?” Killian asked with a sense of dread.

“Do you know what attacked you tonight?” she asked.

“Aye.” Killian nodded. “A blutbad. In full woge.”

She shifted uncomfortably, causing the chair to creak annoyingly in his ears. “And do you know the significance of him being in full woge during the full moon?”

“I, uh…” Frantically, Killian searched his memory for any knowledge regarding blutbaden and the full moon. He couldn’t seem to concentrate over the pounding of his heart and ripples of anxiety coursing through him, though.

Perhaps sensing his distress, or simply wishing to deliver the blow with a measure of comfort, the woman took Killian’s hand and asked, “What do you know about lycanthropes? Werewolves?”

Killian shot off the bed with an unnatural speed and agility, forcing the woman from her chair and causing her to skitter back several steps. Her hands, raised protectively in front of her, were illuminated with a soft glow that seemed to originate from her palms. Killian lifted his own in supplication, an apology slipping from his lips.

“Sorry, love. I just…”

I can’t be, he thought with chaos and hysteria threatening to overtake him. I can’t be a lycanthrope. Liam kills lycanthropes.

Shaking the thought from his head, Killian swallowed hard and fixed his attention back onto the wary woman.

“Apologies,” he began again. “I don’t know how I… I’m not sure what--”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, lowering her hands as she took measured steps towards the workbench. “I can only imagine how much of a shock this is.” She braced her hands against the top of the table, an old, worn book laying open between them. “According to this, you're going to feel the effects of the change immediately. So, it’s only natural that you--”

“The change?” Killian croaked out. “You mean… becoming a werewolf? I’m a… Are you saying, that thing has turned me into a…”

“Yes.”

Something about her direct yet compassionate tone eased the hysteria threatening to overtake him. Releasing a heavy breath, he ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the strands at the back, before dropping his hand to his chest where he pressed against the thundering in his ribcage.

The sound of the book sliding across the table pulled his attention back to the woman. Her expression beckoned him forward as she propped herself onto one of the stools that had been tucked under the work surface. Slowly, he shuffled forward until he stood hovering over the open pages of the book. He was struck by the similarities it held to the journals and manuscripts he’d been forced to study in his youth, with hand sketched illustrations and captions that had been translated into a myriad of languages.

“Not all blutbaden can create a lycanthrope,” she told him. Reaching over, she gestured to a section of text. He read without comprehending, his mind still racing. Fortunately, she paraphrased it for him.

“Lycanthropes, or more commonly known as werewolves, are created by blutbaden with a specific genetic mutation. The blutbad essentially goes off the rails during the full moon, and if they bite a human, and the human lives, they transfer some of their wesen characteristics to them.”

“Which characteristics?” Killian asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea.

“Your senses will be heightened. Sight, sound, smell. You’ll notice an increase in them in your day to day life, but they’ll be on overdrive, like they are now, during the full moon.”

“Will I…” he paused, swallowing back the bile working its way up his throat. “Will I… transform? Woge?”

“According to this, you’ll only be capable of woging during the full moon. I don’t think you’ll see other wesen woge outside of that time frame either.” Bringing the book back towards her, she turned the page and added, “Basically, everything is intensified during the full moon. Your senses, your mood and emotions, your abilities. You’ll be stronger, faster, have greater endurance and stamina, but will also be prone to volatile reactions. Your temper will be shorter. You’ll likely be more aggressive.”

“Violent, you mean.”

“Maybe,” she replied. “Aggression doesn’t have to turn into violence. You’ll just be more…”

“Like a powder keg.”

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his, causing his eyes to flick up to hers.

“I can help with that.”

Relief and hope filled him and he gripped her hand in his. “You can… you can reverse this? You can cure me?”

She squeezed his hand and her expression effectively burst the elated bubble that had formed in his chest. “There’s nothing I can do to make you human again,” she said, remorsefully. “But there is something I can do to help mitigate the symptoms and keep you from falling prey to the worst of the condition.”

His shoulders slumped and he took a moment to come to terms with his new reality. He was no longer human. From this point forward his life would never be the same. It was like losing his parents all over again. Like losing Liam to the calling and duty of being a Grimm. He already hid so much of himself from those closest to him. From Will. From Robin. Now he would have to hide away these parts of himself from Liam. From Nemo. No one could ever know the fullness of who he was. The true him.

He wasn’t even sure if he knew who he was.

Bringing himself back to the here and now, Killian pulled his hand from the woman’s grip and asked, “What do you mean? How can you help me with… all of this?”

Again, she turned their focus back to the book. “Wolfsbane is a plant known for its uses against blutbad,” she told him. “It can hide one’s scent from them. It can also subdue them if they ingest it in great quantities.” Her eyes fell to where his arm was bandaged. “I made a paste of it and other herbs to apply to the bite so your transition would be less… intense, and it appears there is a tonic you can take at the outset of each full moon that can help minimize the effects of the cycle.”

Turning the pages again, she gestured towards a list of ingredients as well as a recipe for the tonic.

“There isn’t much here about the tonic’s effectiveness or what side effects it might have, so it would probably be best if we plan for you to just stay with me during the next full moon so I can keep tabs on you. See how it makes you react.”

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Killian moved into the woman’s personal space and wound a section of her hair through his fingers, his eyes hooded in a smolder and sultry tone dancing on his tongue as he cheeked, “If you wish to spend time cooped up together, love, just say so. No need to stand on ceremony.”

The widening of her eyes and sharp gasp falling from her lips made him balk and stumble back.

“I’m sorry, lass. I…” Forcibly shaking himself he took a tentative step back and declared, “I have no idea where that came from. Please forgive my…”

“It’s okay,” she said in an amused tone, waving off his apology.

“It is?” he replied, incredulously.

“I mean,” she continued, “I understand where it came from.”

“You do?”

She hummed, affirmatively, and explained, “It’s a blutbad trait. Using flirtation, charm, and guile to disarm their prey or throw off their rivals.” Turning the page again, his eyes fell to an excerpt he vaguely recognized from the Red Riding Hood tale. “How do you think the big, bad wolf charmed his way into the grandmother’s house after ingratiating himself with Little Red?”

“I don’t see you as prey,” he said in the hopes of assuring her, even as something within him wanted to counter the statement.

“Of course you do,” she said with a shrug. “I’m an attractive woman all alone with you.” Wetting her lips (which absolutely did not have his pulse rate ticking up and his uniform trousers tightening), she swallowed and cleared her throat before adding, “Some part of you is provoked by that and your new wesen side, being severely heightened, became overly stimulated by it. Hence the inappropriate proposition.”

“I swear you have nothing to fear from me, lass,” Killian vowed. “You’ve done me a great service and the last thing I would ever wish to do is--”

“I know,” she assured him. “I told you. It’s okay.”

Killian exhaled a shaky breath and a thought occurred to him. “Why are you so keen to help me? Not that I’m not grateful. It’s just… you don’t even know me.”

“I know you didn’t ask for this,” she said. “I know, being a cop, that you're a man who likely just wants to help people and that you were just out there trying to do your job.” Her demeanor, which up to this point had been a mixture of confidence, toughness, and candor with an undercurrent of compassion, shifted to one of vulnerability. “Also,” she began in a quiet voice. “The truth is… I’m not a natural wesen either. I’m a gemacht, a made wesen. I’m not… I’m not entirely accepted by others of my kind. By the covens. So I guess…”

“You have an understanding of what I’m going through and what I’ll face.”

Straightening her shoulders, her resilient bearing returned. “No one should have to go through this alone,” she told him while opening a drawer and taking out a small card and pen. “So, take this,” she said, handing him the card after she’d jotted something down. “It’s my business card for the shop, with my personal number on the back. Feel free to call or come by any time.”

Killian took the card from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers which sent a ripple up both their arms. He ignored the physical proof of their mutual attraction, just as he had been ignoring the growing chemistry during their entire encounter, and focused his attention on the card.

Swan Spice and Tea

Emma Swan, proprietor

“Thank you, Swan,” he said, tucking the card into his pocket. “I’ll be in touch about that tonic and we can make a plan for the next full moon.”

“That sounds good, Officer Jones.”

Killian cocked his head quizzically to one side, prompting her to nod towards his uniform.

“It’s on your name badge,” she reminded him. “K. Jones?”

“Right,” he said, reaching up and sheepishly pawing at a patch of skin behind his ear before extending his hand towards her. “Killian Jones. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Swan.”

“Likewise,” she said, placing her hand in his and offering him a soft smile.

They stood there for the span of a few erratic beats of his heart, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not pull her into his arms. She was stunning, with her creamy skin and golden tresses. Even in the low light he could make out the splashes of freckles across her nose and shimmer of gold flecks in her captivating green eyes. Although smaller in stature, there was nothing weak or feeble about her form, even in the softest places. A form he found rather alluring, from the shape of her curves to the swell of her breasts. The way her hair flowed over her shoulders. The way her breath hitched when he skimmed his thumb over the pulse point on her wrist. The way she wet her plump, pink lips with a soft swipe of her tongue.

The way her skin glowed with an ethereal light that suddenly turned blinding.

“Bloody hell!” Killian cursed, wrenching his hand from hers so he could cover his eyes.

“Sorry,” she said with a note of contrition. “But you were… doing it again.”

“Doing what?” he huffed against the irritation spiking through him. Blinking hard, it took a few seconds for his vision to focus. When his sight finally adjusted, he found her several steps away with an amused smirk playing at her lips.

“Eyeing me as though you’d like to make a meal out of me,” she said matter-of-factly, yet without any hint of admonishment or fear.

Killian cursed under his breath. He’d developed something of a reputation in college: lady’s man, player, rake, charming bastard, scoundrel. In the years that followed, he’d done his best to put his womanizing ways behind him, choosing instead to use his looks and natural charm to his advantage as a cop when it came to comforting victims or disarming perps. So, while his current behavior was something out of character to who he had fought to become, he was certainly no stranger to this emerging personality the newly bred wesen side of him was cultivating.

“It’ll get easier to control,” she assured him. “Remember, these traits will be strongest during the full moon, and just as the paste is helping to lessen them now, the tonic should help you keep a rein on things going forward.” Closing the book, she skimmed her fingers over the cover and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before glancing over at him once more and suggesting, “Although, it might be a good idea, as much as you are capable, to limit your contact with people during that time. I don’t know how feasible it would be for you to take those days off from work, but avoiding high stress, high confrontational situations would probably be a good idea until you’re better equipped to--”

“Aye,” he said in agreement, running his hand through his hair again. “A wise suggestion.”

He shuddered at the thought of losing control of himself at work, surrounded by his fellow officers. His fellow armed officers.

The desire to make detective was now about so much more than his own personal pride and sense of accomplishment. As a detective, he’d have greater say over his schedule. Until then, he may have to slack off on his paperwork and use the days of the full moon to isolate himself in one of the private offices in order to “catch up” on his reports.

“I’m sure I can work something out,” he told her.

“Fortunately,” she said, jutting her chin towards the window and the soft, pre-dawn glow that was beginning to creep through the gap in the curtains. “This was the last night of this full moon cycle, so you should be okay once the sun is up.”

Killian’s heart thudded hard in his rib cage and panic swept through his bloodstream. “Bloody hell! What time is it?” he frantically patted his pockets in search of his phone. How long had he been gone? Who knew he was missing? He had to get back to the woods. His cruiser was still there. At the crime scene.

The crime scene.

The body of the hiker.

The blutbad who’d attacked him was a killer.

He needed to find him and--

“Whoa! Slow down,” Swan urged, grabbing onto his forearms and giving him a slight shake. “Your phone is on the table next to the cot. I don’t think anyone is aware of anything being wrong. You have no missed calls or texts.”

Killian balked. Had he said all of that out loud?

Releasing him, she grabbed his phone from where it had been laying and along with it, his keys. “Your cruiser is in the alley out back,” she told him, gesturing towards the backdoor at the far end of the room.

“You… You drove it here?”

A sheepish expression scrunched through her features as she confessed, “Actually. My brother did. It took some convincing, but he finally agreed to go get it after I got you back here.”

“Your brother? You’ve a… is he… is he wesen also?”

“He is,” she confided. “He’s a leschen.”

Killian’s ignorance must have been apparent in the pull of his brows and tilt of his head.

“They’re sort of… tree-like, wooden wesen.”

“And he took some convincing because…?”

“Because you’re a cop,” she confessed. “He’s been on the wrong side of the law a few times. Nothing violent,” she added quickly. “Just… maybe do me a favor and don’t have your car fingerprinted?”

“I suppose,” he conceded, “Given the circumstances. I can overlook your brother’s involvement in this evening's events.”

“I appreciate that,” she said on a relieved breath and with a soft, weary smile.

The side of him he was beginning to identify as the wolf caused him to feel torn about leaving. The longing he felt to stay, the primal, proprietary drive that kept creeping up within him as he remained in her presence was one he could now discern, and though not quite as overwhelming as it had been before, was still very much present.

“I should go,” he choked out with conviction, subduing the beast. “It’s late. Or rather… early?”

“Right,” Swan replied, wetting her lips and guiding him towards the back door. “We’ve both had a long night and could definitely use some rest.”

For the first time since he awoke in her spice shop, Killian was struck with curiosity as to what she had been doing in the woods when he’d stumbled upon her. It was clear from the way she swung open the door, revealing his cruiser parked in the alleyway, and issuing her farewells with a stifled yawn that it would be a question he’d have to leave for another time.

“Remember,” she called out before he could slip behind the wheel. “I’m here if you need anything.”

“Aye, Swan. Thanks. Thank you for everything,” he replied with a deep, rich sincerity in his tone. “I’ll be in touch.”

“See you at the next full moon?”

“Aye,” he promised. “See you at the next full moon.”

Chapter One

#csff #csfic #cs au #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #CS Grimm AU #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a grimm #words by hollye

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