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The Bloody Moon

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Part One: First Impressions

Hansel knew that his eldest was on edge when they hadn't even walked through the door before Will had a cigarette to his lips and his hands cupped around the end so it caught the flame. “Come now, mein Adler, hyu are not on deployment. Surely this cannot be as bad as that.”

Will aimed the steady stream of smoke upwards as he replied. “Honestly, Dad, I think I'd prefer to be in some sniper's cross-hairs than here right now. I was not built for this.”

The German chuckled as he clapped his son's shoulder warmly, “If I understand correctly, Will, there is not much you do that hyu were built for.”

“That is kind of not the point,” the Colonel chuckled, quicksilver eyes flashing through colors as he scanned their surroundings. The witch hunter grinned, knowing that his son was cataloging all of the entry and exit points in the rustic style bar. “So who are we here to see again?”

“His name is Bobby Singer. We met on a chat room. He is a hunter too.”

One blond eyebrow shot upwards as Will snarked, “You were on a chat room? Wait, better question . . . HUNTERS have chat rooms?”

“Hyu are hilarious, mein Sohn.”

“Funny, you seem to be the only one who thinks so,” was the return retort, earning a snort of agreement. Running a hand back through his close-cropped hair, Will pulled the cigarette from his lips with a grunt. “Do you happen to know what Mr. Singer looks like? Marina is going to have my ass if I don't report in on time.”

“No, I do not. However, there must be someone here we can ask.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Will agreed, dodging past a pretty blond waitress as he approached the bar. Legging up onto one of the stools, he tapped the ash into the ashtray beside him. “Take a seat, Dad . . . we have about an hour before we have to report in. More than enough time to get a drink and go over the details.”

Gut. That sounds like a reasonable plan, Adler,” the German agreed as he moved to take the seat beside his eldest. “I wonder if these people have any decent liquor on hand.”

“I'd settle for a whiskey, that wasn't too cheap and watered down,” Will sighed despairingly, digging out a sheaf of papers from his back pocket. “If Mr. Singer's calculations are right, then we're about a week from a Blood Moon.”

Hansel couldn't help it; he shuddered at the term, well remembering the last time he'd gone head to head with a coven of witches during a Blood Moon. Muriel's death had been the catalyst for his curse, and he was not keen on making any more formidable enemies. However, children were going missing, and it would not be fair to their parents to abandon them when there was something he could do to save them. Holding out a hand to get the attention of the older woman tending the bar, he turned to his son, “What did Jason say?”

Will grinned as he remarked, “Apparently, Jay was impressed. There may have been a level of geeking out that Casey is still trying to translate.”

“You didn't help your brother's fiancee figure out Jay-speak?”

“I figured that if they were going to be happy together, it was better that she learn how to translate Jay into English sooner rather than later,” the Colonel laughed, before turning his attention onto the older woman waiting to take their order. “Hi . . . can I get a whiskey for my father and I, please? Whatever you have.”

The woman cocked an eyebrow, taking in Will's tailored button-down and expensive jeans. Wiping her hands on a rag, she sneered, “I hope you're not expecting anything high class here.”

“Whatever you have will be great,” was the steady reply, even as Hansel watched his son's eyes shift from his happy-go-lucky blue to nearly colorless silver. A sure sign that his temper was starting to stir behind the wall that the younger man typically erected to keep himself in control. Fiddling with the corner of a page, he inquired, “My name's Will . . . this is my father, Hansel. We're supposed to be meeting a man named Bobby Singer. If you would be so kind, could you tell us if he's arrived yet?”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, she gestured toward a pair of men seated at the small table in the corner. “That's Bobby over there.”

Hansel cocked an eyebrow at the sight, taking in the other man's features as he asked, “And who is his companion, pray tell?”

“John Winchester. I'm assuming if you're lookin' for Bobby, you're lookin' for a hunter. John is as good as they come.”

Will snorted into his highball as he joked, “Your reputation fails to precede you, Dad.”

“Hyu hush, mein Adler,” came the expected scold, even as he turned his attention to the bartender. “Do hyu perchance have any German beer to hand?”

The woman cocked an eyebrow at him, before drawling slowly, “We have St. Pauli Girl.”

Turning to look at Will with a cocked eyebrow, he frowned at his son's brief shake of the head. “Es ist in Deutschland hergestellten, aber es ist nicht Deutsch, wenn Sie wissen, was ich meine. Wahrscheinlich das beste, du wirst hier aber, Dad. (It's German-made, but it's not German, if you know what I mean. Probably the best you're gonna get here though, Dad.)” Hansel couldn't help the small grin at the woman's startled reaction to Will's flawless German.

Grunting at the knowledge, he dug for his wallet and replied, “I will take one and the darkest ale hyu have on tap, please, Fräulein.”

The woman smirked lightly, reaching for a bottle under the bar as she replied calmly, “I'm married. It's just Ellen.” Her hands were deft and quick as she worked the tap to pour the elder Grimm's beer on tap. Sliding the glass across the bar, she watched with bemusement as Hansel proceeded to upend the bottle and drain the whole thing dry. Folding her arms over her chest, she snarked caustically, “Ever heard of AA?” before moving away to help another customer on the other side of the bar.

Cocking an eyebrow at his son, Hansel growled, “Vas is AA?”

“Don't ask,” was Will's only response, as he slammed back his whiskey and got up from the bar. “We know which one's Singer . . . let's get this over with so I can check back in with Marina before she sends Lucky and a damned rescue unit.”

Hansel chuckled at his son's plight, unable to resist teasing, “If hyu could go more than ten minutes without finding hyurself shot, broken or captured, I am sure they would not be so protective, mein Adler.”

Will snorted as he tossed a fifty on the bar and strolled away. “Fat chance of that. I'm even more accident prone than Clint . . . and that's saying something.”

Unable to argue with that – his youngest son was notorious for close calls and ridiculous tight spots – Hansel only shook his head as he followed his oldest son to the table where their contacts were seated. Will lifted his cigarette to his lips as he approached warily, “Are you Bobby Singer?”

The grizzled one wearing a battered baseball cap and several days worth of scruff looked up at the question. “I guess that depends on who it is asking.”

Twisting to look at his father, the officer gestured his father forward to take over. The German stepped around his son, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder, as he spoke, “My name is Hansel Kuhn . . . we have an appointment, I believe.”

Singer's eyes widened slightly as he looked between Hansel and Will, clearly curious about the relationship between the two men, prompting Hansel to take pity. “My son, Will.”

Flicking a finger at his companion, Singer completed the introductions, “John Winchester . . . he's a hunter.”

“Hyu are in good company then, Winchester.” Frowning for a moment, he considered the other man for a moment, before he mused absently, “I knew a John of Winchester once . . . he was a good man . . . a good hunter.” Grinning at his son, he explained, “We got very drunk together once.”

“And people say I'm the one with the drinking problem,” Will scoffed lightly, rolling his eyes at the lighthearted joke.

Cocking an eyebrow at his son, he scolded, “Adler, Marishka is going to wash hyur mouth out.”

“Only if I get caught,” was the cheeky response, even as Will pulled the papers from his back pocket and tossed them onto the table in front of Bobby. “Your calculations are impressive; my specialist nearly went into an apoplexy.” Chuckling, he twisted the chair about and straddled the back as he snarked, “Jay's what you would call a nerd.”

The German's tone was teasing as he tossed back, “Says the man who speaks 16 languages fluently and is passable in 10 more.”

“Dialects aren't languages, Dad,” the Colonel reminded his father with an air of long-suffering, as though this was a conversation they had had many times before. Checking his watch, he sighed, “Thirty-five minutes and counting . . . Can we please get down to business?”

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at the countdown, before gesturing toward John. “I don't go into the field, but John is an exceptional hunter. He should be more than enough to assist you in this case.”

One corner of Hansel's lips twitched upwards as he replied, “I do not believe I will require assistance, but if there is one of thing I have learned in this business, it is that one does not turn down good help when it is offered. Hyu are welcome, Herr Winchester.”

“I had to bring my sons; I hope that won't be a problem?”

Will cocked an eyebrow at the man, before shrugging, “As long as you don't mind that Dad is bringing his.” Just then there was a loud sounds from his pocket, his phone singing along to the chorus of “Dangerous and Moving” by the popular Russian girl-group, T.a.T.u. “Geez, Marina . . . you're early.” Fishing the phone from his back pocket, he answered sweetly, “What happened to an hour?”

Marina's tone was puckish as she replied cheerfully, “Who said anything about an hour?”

Rolling his eyes at her, he chuckled as he inquired, “What's up, Marishka?”

“We're here. We're setting up camp. Any orders in the interim, sir?“

John's eyebrows rose at the fact that Will didn't glance at his father to confirm, before replying firmly, “At the moment, no. Usual chores stand. We'll be there in about an hour. We're going to have a couple extra people joining us, so clear a spot for an extra tent.”

“Yes sir. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment. See you soon.”

“Sounds good. Lyublyu tebya, Misha.”

Ya lyublyu tebya, Marishka.”

Ignoring the flabbergasted look on the other two men's faces, he stood and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “So . . . who's coming?”

Hansel stood along with his son, making a half-hearted grab for the keys, not even surprised when Will jerked them up and out of reach without a thought. “Not a chance in hell, Dad. Maria made me promise; you and motors are like fire and gasoline . . . a recipe for disaster and explosions. Besides, I'm not the one banned from the motorcade.”

Chuckling at the uncharacteristically sly grin on his eldest's face, he clapped one hand to the back of Will's neck and squeezed fondly. “If I did not know better, I would think that hyu were scared of Maria.”

“Only when she's not around to know about it,” came the expected crack at his step-mother's expense. Looking back down at John, the Colonel cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the man still seated. “Are you coming?”

Nodding once, he pushed himself to his feet. “I need to stop and get my boys from the hotel. I left them in the next town over.”

Will's new baby sister was about seven months old, with Will's own twins only barely more than newborns. It had killed both of their parents to leave them, but Hansel had been so panicked by the systematic disappearances of young children that it had been impossible to refuse the request from the family witch hunters. Winchester looked as though it was nothing to leave his sons behind, and didn't seem to think that there was anything even remotely wrong with that. Groaning low in his throat, he moaned, “Bozhe moi . . . I see more adoptions in my future.”

At this observation, Hansel couldn't help it. He burst into a torrent of unrestrained laughter. “Very likely, mein Adler . . . very likely indeed.”

Closing his eyes, Will groaned, “Chert voz'mi.”

********************

Will would be lying if he claimed to be uninterested in the two young men who exited the motel room where they stopped briefly to pick up Winchester's sons. The oldest looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, though his features were set stoically and gave no indication of what he was thinking. The other was thin and gangly, maybe 16, and visibly pouting. The older seemed to be prodding him along silently, though to Will's surprise, the younger didn't seem to be protesting the treatment in anyway.

If Will was being honest, it was oldest one that was the most interesting. He seemed to be playing the same role in his brother's life that Will had played in his own. Marina was going to adore the kid.

Winchester himself drove an older model GMC truck not unlike Will's own younger brother, Aaron; however where Aaron's was a cheerful green, the older man's was a forbidding black. The two young men, however, climbed into a cherry black Chevy Impala; a late 1960's model, unless Will missed his guess. Jason would able to tell him, if he didn't geek out and swoon over the damned thing. Gunning the engine as the rest of the unconventional caravan fell into line, Will put the Army Jeep into gear and muttered, “Mental note to me: find Jason a new engineering project.”

Hansel chuckled at the comment, though he said nothing as Will tore out of the parking lot and booked it towards where his partner had set up camp and was now waiting for him to get to her.

The drive to camp was made in companionable silence, though the Jeep hadn't even come to a complete stop when Marina dropped out of the tree overhead and landed in a delicate crouch on the lightly rumbling hood. Tossing her hair back, she smiled at him warmly as she teased, “Hi, lover.”

Pushing himself to standing, hands anchored on the windshield to hold himself upright, the superior officer returned the grin. “God you're gorgeous, samaya malen'kaya.”

Warm, familiar hands came up to cup his cheeks as she murmured against his lips, “Spasibo, Misha.”

The two indulged in a long, leisurely kiss, before a voice rang out from the tree overhead. “Ew . . . could the lyubiteli get a room?”

“Shut up, Clinton Francis!” was the simultaneous rejoinder though they did separate. Will hopped easily to the ground, reaching up to lift Marina down as well. “Sit rep, Major?”

That prompted a couple more rounds of “EW!” from his brothers, which only made Will's smirk grow that little bit more. Marina, knowing her partner well and more than willing to let him yank on the boys' chains, smacked him lightly on the chest with the back of one hand even as the other hooked around his neck and dragged him down for a much more satisfying kiss. When they finally broke apart, Will stepped back only far enough to wrap one arm around her hips as they turned to greet the rest of the newly arrived party.

The Colonel knew the second that Marina caught sight of Winchester's two sons. Her eyes went sharp as she narrowed in on both boys' threadbare clothes, while simultaneously noting that the younger boy was just a little better dressed. Squeezing the swell of hip under his palm, he bent to press a sweet kiss to the curve behind her ear, murmuring, “Don't say I never gave you anything.”

And just like that, whatever happened next was well out of Will's hands. The Hufflepuff assassin known most commonly as Marina Ivanovna Petrovka was in full-on mothering mode. From this point forward, there would be no stopping her. Stepping away from her partner, the brunette practically barreled towards the two boys. “You both look half-starved . . . I've got chow if you want some. Homemade chili with cornbread. What do you think?”

The younger's eyes lit up., though he looked up at his brother to get his permission first. “Please Dean? I'm hungry.”

Dean was eyeing the former assassin suspiciously, before nodding in silent agreement. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“It's Marina . . . the only people who call me 'ma'am' are the ones on the other side of my desk about to beg for either their lives or their careers, whichever one I'm in the mood for at the moment,” was her blunt tease, a sly wink softening the truth. Reaching out slowly, conscious that Dean was probably very like her own lover with respect to his younger brother, she wrapped one arm around the younger boy's skinny shoulders and guided him away. “I'll show you where you can wash up and then you can come join us at the fire. There'll be a bowl there with your name on it, promise.” Glancing at Will, she waited a beat before asking, “Of course, that would imply that I know your name.”

Blushing to the roots of his dark, shaggy hair, the kid stammered, “Sam . . . my name's Sam and that's my brother Dean.”

“I have a son named Sam; he should be here before nightfall.” Winking at Will, she teased, “This could get confusing.”

“Only if you call our Sam anything other than 'Sammy-honey', which I've never heard you do in all the time we've known him,” was the Colonel's joking reply. Moving forward, he offered the older teenager a hand as he greeted him firmly, “Hello Dean . . . I'm Will. We thought we'd set up your dad, your brother and you over here, if that works for you.”

Turning his attention to the open space the eldest Grimm had indicated, Dean surveyed the area with a shrewd eye. Whether he was aware of Will's scrutiny of him, he gave no sign, but to be honest, Will didn't really care if he got caught looking. The kid was really starting to intrigue him; hopefully Marina did her thing quickly and the two boys came home with them to New York when all this was over instead of heading off into the ether once again. Finally, the kid nodded once in agreement, grunting, “It's a good spot. Lots of cover, but we're not backed into anything.”

“Good . . . go ahead and wash up with your brother. I'm pretty sure my Marina will have a coronary if you don't let her feed you first.” Leaning over and speaking in an obvious stage-whisper, he insisted, “Marina may be small, but she is terrifying. She even has me cowed most of the time.”

The Russian's tone was fond as she scolded, “Uh-huh . . . and then you go and do exactly what I don't want you to do anyway. Let the kid clean up, Mishka . . . the chili isn't going to stay warm forever.” Gesturing towards where Sam was washing up at a portable sink, she insisted, “Go on, Dean . . . I'm sure you're hungry.”

“Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.”

Winking, she teased, “It's Marina, Dean, just Marina.”

*****************

Before long, the Winchesters were set up and the camp had eaten. Marina had left the pot bubbling over the firepit, knowing that her there were still members of their family inbound to camp. The teenagers had been shuffled off to bed by their father, earning sharp frowns from both Will and Hansel, though neither said anything about it as Will stood to assign duties for the night. “Clint . . . you and Aaron are on first watch. Jason, you and Brian are second watch. Mr. Winchester, do you mind sharing third watch with my father for an hour or so?”

Eyes narrowing, the hunter demanded, “And when are you standing watch?”

Quicksilver eyes flashed as he reined in his temper, struggling to remain calm as he replied, “Marina and I always take last watch of the night. And it's only until my aunt gets here. She and Dad always stand watch together. After she gets here, you are more than welcome to head to bed; we have more than enough people to stand watch tonight.”

Nodding briskly, he watched as Will offered one hand to his partner. “All right then. Four hour rotations. Buddy up. Be smart. I would suggest that everyone not on first watch get some rest before their shifts, otherwise it's going to be a short night.” Marina glided into his side like air, tucking herself against him as he finished. “See you all in the morning. Good night.”

“Night Will! Night Marishka!” was the chorus from the Grimms as a whole, before the two officers disappeared into their shared tent together.

Hansel remained seated on a log, nodding his good nights as his sons split up into their accustomed pairings for the night, a steaming mug of coffee in hand as he settled back. After spending two centuries in nightmarish unconsciousness, Hansel avoided sleep for as long as he could before giving in to Morpheus' spell. John watched Jason and Brian disappear into one of the tents, eyes widening only a little as he watched Aaron and Clint leap straight up into two trees on opposite sides of camp. Once they were out of sight and he was reasonably sure that they would not be overheard, John rounded on the older man, sneering, “You need to rein in your son.”

Cocking an eyebrow over his mug, Hansel watched him for a long moment, before insisting, “May I suggest that hyu should mind hyur own business?”

“Who the hell does he think he is, taking charge away from you? You're his father.”

“That would be imply that I was in charge to begin with,” was the startling response from the German witch hunter. “And I can assure hyu . . . Adler is much better suited to it.”

“And who decided that? Him?”

Smirking into his mug, Hansel chuckled. “No, that would be the 29 years he and Marina raised them without any help or input from me at all.”

John gawked at him in shock for a moment, before collecting himself once again. “That doesn't mean that he shouldn't be more respectful of his elders. Just because he was in charge then, doesn't mean he should be in charge now.”

“On the contrary, Adler was 29 years old when my boys found out about me. Mein Falki . . . my youngest . . . was 19. Each of them was a man grown, or very nearly so. Will had been protecting them, caring for them, and taking care of them with Marina from the time he was 12. I was very lucky that they chose to make a place for me in their lives at all.” Finishing his coffee, he tossed the dregs into the fire and stood from his log, “Do not misunderstand me. My sons love me and I love them, very much. But they will follow Will's lead to hell and back, without question.”

Smirking at the shocked look on Winchester's face, the witch hunter insisted, “Will and Marina are the senior officers here . . . I am just another peon on the ladder, same as the rest. Hyu would do well to remember that, or I can assure that this hunt will be very uncomfortable for everyone.” Glancing at his watch, he sighed, before sketching a sarcastic half-bow, “And with that said, I bid hyu good night. Third watch is only eight hours away, and I should at least attempt to spend part of that asleep.”

*******************

Marina was notorious for hating mornings. But the last watch of the night was always a special exception. She loved spending predawn with her lover, sipping on coffee and talking about the plan for the day. It was a long held tradition and she loved every moment of it.

That morning, she came awake to the familiar touch of a hand in her hair, and a warm low voice whispering, “Marina . . . wake up, samaya malen'kaya.”

Rolling within the confines of their makeshift bed, she flopped over onto her back and grinned up at her lover sweetly. “Morning, Mishka.”

Quicksilver eyes were bright, vivacious blue as he bent to press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Good morning, zhemchuzhina. We're a couple minutes early, but it won't be long before we're up.”

Nodding, Marina pushed herself up into a seated position as she took in her lover's face. She had shared his love and his bed for almost twenty years; the earmarks of a long, sleepless night were unmistakable. “You're thinking too hard again.”

He flashed her a warm smile as he agreed, “A blessing and a curse.”

“What's wrong?”

One side of his mouth twisted up as he considered her question, before replying, “What do you think about Winchester's sons?”

“I think they could stand to be fed more frequently and afforded better clothes. I think that they could use a more steady, consistent lifestyle. I think that they would benefit from a little paternal affection.” There was a pause, before she shrugged haphazardly, “But what I think doesn't matter. As much as I would like to bring them into the fold and never let them go, the youngest is still a minor and I don't think the oldest will ever leave him with their father alone.”

Humming in agreement, Will watched as his partner climbed from their shared bed and moved towards their gear. She pulled a pair of camo cargo pants and a long sleeved black thermal from her bag, more than aware of her lover's eyes on her as she stripped out of her pajama pants and tanktop. Giving him a flirtatious smirk over her shoulder, she teased, “Like what you see?”

“Of course not . . . I love what I see,” he insisted, eyes so earnest and sincere that Marina could barely contain her adoration for him.

It was a minute's preoccupation to get dressed and haul on her boots. They geared up together in silence, checking and double checking each other's weaponry before each was satisfied. Stepping back, Marina grinned up at him as she teased, “Ya lyublyu tebya, moya Misha.”

Bending to her height, he cupped her cheeks in his palms and pressed a series of reverent kisses to every inch of her face. “Lyublyu tebya, samaya malen'kaya.”

The couple exited the tent together, and Will knew instantly that one of her Misfits had arrived. And since the only one scheduled to arrive was a certain blond-haired SRU constable, it wasn't a surprise to hear her cheer, “Sammy!”

Samuel Wayne Braddock stood from the log where he sat at the fire, grinning at the brunette as she practically flew across camp to throw her arms around his shoulders. Wrapping his own arms around her waist firmly, he lifted her effortlessly off her feet with a warm greeting of, “Hi Ma.”

“I left chili out for you and Gret . . . did you eat?”

“Yeah . . . I had some when I got in,” he agreed, eerie blue eyes sparkling in the firelight as he set her back on her feet. “Last watch, huh?”

“As per usual,” was Will's response from behind the two, prompting both to turn to look for him. “Glad you could make it, kiddo.”

Sam grinned, accepting his surrogate father's embrace warmly. “Sup Pops?”

Groaning, the Colonel joked, “You've been spending too much time with Clint. How was the trip?”

“Uneventful . . . not many people out on the roads at this time of the night.”

Marina was practically vibrating as she grabbed onto his hands, demanding, “How's Jules? How far along is she now?”

The blond puffed up as proud as a peacock as he announced, “Seven months. As big as a horse, but glowing with it.”

“I'm so happy for you both,” Marina insisted, wrapping her boy up into another firm hug. “Have you both finally decided on a name or are you still waiting to find out if it's a girl or a boy?”

“I finally caved; we're having a little girl. We're waffling between Sadie Marina or Evelyn Ann.”

Delighted at the very prospect, the little girl's prospective namesake was simultaneously blushing and beaming to the roots of her hair. For once at a loss for words, Marina said nothing and simply wrapped him up in her arms again. Sam laughed, his embrace swallowing her as she burrowed into him as deeply as she could manage. “Spasibo, Sammy-honey.”

Ducking his head over hers, he murmured into her hair, “You're welcome, Ma. Where are the twins?”

“At home, with Grandma Maria, Auntie Marty and Auntie Casey. They're a little young yet to be coming with us on road trips,” Will replied, glancing at his partner as she slumped. It had taken years for Marina to conceive, and then there were a slew of complications during the pregnancy itself. As a result, it was always hard for Marina to leave her newborn daughters, but when duty called . . . well, needless to say, Marina had never failed to answer yet.

If the way Sam slumped was any indication, he was equally as disappointed to have missed out on the chance to see his infant “sisters”. Face twisting slightly, he grunted, “Damn. I brought presents.”

Taking pity on them both, the eldest Grimm teased, “You could always come home for a couple days to see them. I'm sure Marishka wouldn't mind having you around for a little while. And of course, Julianna is always welcome to join you, if her doctor says it's okay for her to fly.”

That brightened both of them almost instantly, and the blond nodded in agreement. “That sounds awesome. Think we could get someone to pick up Jules and bring her out to New York too?”

Snorting, Marina joked, “I'm sure we know a pilot or two who can fly a plane to Toronto to pick up your wife. It's not like we don't have a couple pilots in the family, for that matter.”

It was about then that Will caught sight of a woman standing in his peripherals. Twisting slightly, he grinned at her brightly. “Hey Aunt Gretel . . . where's Steve?”

“My Star-Spangled boyfriend is still wallowing at the moment,” Gretel announced with a roll of her pretty eyes. “I was in the mood to kill some witches, so I left him at home.”

“Welcome to the party.”

Folding her arms, the German woman frowned and asked, “What are we looking at, Will? Be honest.”

“Based on what Dad's told Marina and me, it looks like we are definitely dealing with another Blood Moon ritual. As far as coven size, that I won't know until we can find where they're holding the children and we can get a closer look.”

“My first and only encounter with a Blood Moon ritual was pretty memorable to be sure. Except for Mina and Hansel and a fair bit of luck, I would not be standing here right now.”

Hansel moved to stand at his sister's shoulder, the two experienced witch hunters watching him with a frown. “What do we know as of now, mein Adler?”

“Currently, we have six kids missing and counting. Four boys and two girls. Fortunately, there have been no reports of any older women having disappeared from the same area as of now.”

Gretel bit her lip as she reminded her older nephew, “I was only nine years old, when Muriel came for me the first time. Our mother knew they were coming and made our father leave us in the woods.” Snorting, she insisted, “If not for that, none of us would be standing here now.”

“Thank God for unanswered prayers, ja?” Hansel snarked with a huff of air.

Chuckling, Marina moved towards where a pot of coffee was simmering on its hotplate in their meager camp-kitchen. “Indeed. What does everyone want for breakfast? I can do French Toast, bacon and eggs, griddle cakes, breakfast burritos or even Egg McMuffins. What's the consensus?”

“I'm good with whatever, Marina,” Sam agreed with a roll of his eyes. “Doesn't matter what we're eating; you're gonna force at least three helpings down me.”

“If you wouldn't drop weight like its hot, Sammy-honey, I wouldn't be forced to feed you every time I turned around,” was the cheerful retort, earning a grin from her lover and a good-natured groan from her adoptive son. “Misha . . . coffee?”

“You're a saint,” was the agreement, as he moved to accept the mug she was offering him. “What can I do to help?”

“I'll worry about the cooking, you make sure the rest of our contingent in brought up to speed, please.”

Leaning over, he pressed a firm kiss to the hollow of her temple as he teased, “Yes ma'am.” Turning away from the makeshift kitchen, he gestured towards the logs as he inquired, “Shall we?”

Each member of the group nodded, even as Hansel moved away, “I'll go wake Winchester . . . I cannot imagine he would be pleased if we conferred on the matter without him.”

Receiving a series of grunts in answer, Hansel chuckled as he moved toward the Winchester test. “Herr Winchester . . . it is Hansel Kuhn. Are hyu awake?”

There was a soft, disgruntled groan, before the younger hunter barked, “What do you want?”

“My son was going to go over the details of the hunt. Would hyu like to join us or wait for the official debrief later this morning?”

There was a pause, before he agreed, “Give me five.”

There seemed to be no answer required, so Hansel turned and walked back to where his son and sister were perusing a map. “All right, Adler . . . what do we know?”

Will's grin was wicked as he replied, “Let's just say, in the immortal words of my baby brother Clinton Francis Grimm . . . this going to be awesome.”

********************

The Colonel was ten minutes into his debrief with his father and aunt when John Winchester prodded both of his sons from their tent and towards the firepit where the rest were sitting. Frowning, the eldest Grimm looked down at his watch curiously, blinking in surprise to see that it was fifteen minutes past four o'clock in the morning. Straightening slightly, he commented lightly, “If they want to, your sons can get some more rack time. It's still early, and we're going to have to wait for the rest of the squad to get up before we can move out.”

Winchester's tone was sharp and brusque as he replied, “How about you mind your own business and let me raise my kids?”

Hansel watched as a muscle in Will's jaw twitched, one eye narrowing hard as the two men engaged in a stare-down with one another. Whatever the Colonel had been about to say was interrupted as Marina sailed into the area, a line of plates balanced confidently along her arms. “Breakfast is served. Breakfast burritos with chorizo and eggs, with hash browns and homemade salsa. Bon appétit, mon amis!” she teased, winking cheerfully at her lover in response to the frustrated glare he was giving her.

Reaching out to smack her backside playfully, Will teased in fluent French, “Poule mère.”

Grinning at the uncharacteristic language, Marina taunted in the same language, “Mais bien sûr!.”

The older Winchester was quiet, though one eyebrow twitched upwards at their ease with the foreign language. The younger was not so complacent, asking curiously, “You know French?”

Will chuckled as he replied, “I know a lot of languages. For that matter, so does Marina.” Smirking at Marina, he asked in flawless Russian, “Lyubopytnyy malysh, ne tak li? (Curious kid, isn't he?)”

Deystvitel'no,” she replied, moving back to the kitchen and grabbing up another three plates. Depositing one of them into Sam Winchester's lap, she ordered fondly, “Eat up, malysh, you could use some more meat on your bones.”

Braddock snorted at the expression, before cocking an eyebrow at his adoptive father, asking in French, “Combien d'enfants prévoyez-vous d'adopter, papa?” (How many kids do you plan to adopt, Dad?”

Chuckling, Will replied dryly, “Apparemment, au moins deux de plus.” (“Apparently, at least 2 more.”) Rolling his eyes, he teased his partner, “Marina gets what Marina wants. It's not worth arguing with her.”

There was a dull smack as the back of Marina's hand collided with her lover's shoulder as she walked past toward the kitchen area. “Hush you,” she scolded, dropping an absent kiss on the crown of her Sam's head as she strode past. “I don't remember you ever putting up much of a fight, you know. And it's not as though my Misfits aren't part of the family, anyway.”

The sound of Dean's voice was surprising as he spoke for the first time since arriving at the camp. “Who are the Misfits?”

Braddock's hand came up as he replied, “I'm one of Marina's Misfits. The Misfits are a tactical team, headed up by Will and Marina. There's at least a dozen of us, and it seems like Marina just keeps pulling people into the fold every time Will and I turn around.”

Hansel's tone was teasing as he joked, “There is a reason they are most commonly referred to as 'Marina's Misfits'.”

Scoffing Marina scolded, “I'm not making more if breakfast goes cold because the lot of you are flapping your jaws instead of eating. Fair warning.”

“Yes ma'am,” was the resounding agreement, before Will, Sam and Hansel each tucked into their meals with Gretel perusing the map amidst methodical chewing. Using her fork, she following a hand-written mark on the map, asking cautiously, “Do I want to know what that is?”

Will turned the map towards him, following it with his eyes before announcing, “That's an underground cavern. It's a central point to all of the missing children, and it also has a series of above ground entrances. Dad and I thought we'd go check it out later, after the rest of the boys get up and we've done a full debrief.”

Winchester grunted as he insisted, “My sons are going with you.”

Hansel frowned fiercely as he insisted, “Hyur sons are children. Surely they would be safer here in camp?”

“They're trained . . . they know how to hunt. They can do it.”

“Just because they can, does not mean that they should,” Gretel broke in, arms folded over her chest as she glared at the older man.

“Again, they're my kids. So mind your own damned business.”

The dark haired hunter opened her mouth to snap angrily, but her brother's hand on her shoulder was enough to cause her to still. “Bleib ruhig, Gretel.” Turning to Winchester, Hansel insisted, “Hyu are right. They are hyur children and they are welcome . . . we will keep them safe while we are in the caves. Hyu have my word.”

Winchester scoffed, finishing his plate and standing from his seat. “They don't need your protection. They'll be fine.”

Hansel's grip on his sister tightened sharply in admonition, even as he nodded in acquiescence. “As you say.”

Whatever John Winchester was gearing up to say was interrupted as Clint came bursting out of his tent, cheering, “I smell burritos!”

Marina giggled at his typical exuberance, watching as he practically skipped into the kitchen area to dish up. “Oh moy dorogoy . . . you and your stomach never fail to amuse.”

Clint grinned at her, mouth already full of cheesy breakfast burrito, as he joked, “Hey! I'm a growing boy!”

His brother snorted as he teased, “Pretty sure the only thing growing is your waistline.”

“You shut up!” was the clever comeback, though he dodged his brothers retaliatory but playful punch. “No one asked you, William Michael.”

“Who said you could use my full name, Clinton Francis?”

“Both of you knock it off. You'll wake up Jay . . . and I know for a fact that he didn't go to sleep until Will and I got up to stand watch,” Marina scolded, tilting her cheek upwards to accept Clint's kiss to her cheek.

The response from all of her boys, Hansel included, was a teasing, “Nasedka!”

The younger Winchester was staring between Clint and his own brother in horror, before groaning, “Oh God, there's two of them!”

Will choked slightly on his unexpected laughter, before asking, “What!?”

“Dean's pretty much obsessed with food . . . and he's always yanking my chain.”

The Colonel cocked an eyebrow at that, eyes turning to take in the so far silent Winchester brother, before shrugging. “That's what brothers are for . . . to drive us nuts. You'll get older and you'll get used to it.”

Marina's tone was teasing as she chimed in, “Maybe. I know Will has a file folder of all the different ways he would kill his brothers if I would let him get away with it. I think the only one who doesn't have a folder is Doyle . . . and that's only cause Doyle is older than Will.”

“No, that's cause Doyle doesn't go out of his way to drive me crazy. It seems to be an exclusively younger brother thing.”

It was about then that Jason came from the tent, grumbling. “You all suck.”

Sladkiy, I'm sorry. Did we wake you?” his sister asked, standing quickly to guide the still blurry eyed middle Grimm to a log. Once he was settled comfortably on the dirt next to Marina's own seat, she bolted towards the kitchen to get him some coffee.

Once his sister was sitting down again, he curled up against her leg with his head resting on her thigh. Marina's fingers absently smoothed gently through his hair, while she spoke up, “So since everyone is getting up anyway, should we roust the rest of the boys out of bed? Aaron is probably just waiting for dawn; the poor kid doesn't sleep much any more. I'll bet that Brian's the only one still sleeping.”

“How about we let Jason get back up to proper Brian-capable speed, before we drag Brian out of bed? Give him the opportunity to be able to wake up a little more.”

Scritching fondly at the back of Jason's neck, Marina chuckled as the tech specialist practically purred and burrowed that little bit more into her. “Good idea. I don't think Jay's running on all eight cylinders yet.”

“Eight cylinders? Isn't it usually four?” Dean asked, showing a keen interest in the car analogy.

“Yes, but that's only cause the rest of the world is typically a four cylinder sedan or something boring. Grimms tend to be high performance vehicles,” was Clint's cheerful explanation.

“I thought Jay was a Ravenclaw,” was Will's dry retort, quicksilver eyes rolling in amusement at his baby brother's explanation.

Jason's tone was disgruntled as he snarked, “Watch it, Slytherin. Ravenclaws are awesome.”

The Russian's voice was amused as she chimed in, “Some of us happen to think that Hufflepuffs are the best house,” which earned Clint's exuberant, “Here here!”

Braddock was amused as he agreed, “I think the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws in this family are currently outnumbered by Hufflepuffs, so that's not really a fair assessment.”

“Ravenclaws are always outnumbered in this family. Marta and I are the only ones," the family tech specialist reminded his nephew dryly.

Aaron's voice was calm as he spoke from behind the rest of the group, joining them around the fire as he reminded them, “And Hufflepuffs outnumber everybody, so that's not really accurate either.”

Sam chimed in cheerfully, “How many Gryffindors are there?”

Hansel and his sister both spoke up simultaneously, “Me,” though Hansel continued on with his addendum, “. . . and my wife, Maria.”

Will chuckled at the kid's crestfallen features. “The Army made sure that there were no Gryffindors here. We have many of the same qualities, but our defining characteristics tend to fall into other houses. Marina, Clint, Aaron, Sammy and Casey are Hufflepuffs; Brian, Natasha, Steve and I are Slytherins; Marta and Jason are Ravenclaws; Dad, Aunt Gretel Bucky and Maria are Gryffindors. Of course, that's not counting the rest of the Misfits, who have been sorted, but I can't remember into which houses.”

“Daryl was Gryffindor but one of the Neville ones.” Marina supplied, causing Jason to snort as he joked, “Takes a level in badass when the situation needs it. And, now that we're counting Misfits, I'm pretty sure Vincent is a Ravenclaw.”

The Colonel sat back as he watched his family bicker over Hogwarts House assignments and the characteristics that came from them. Although, he was much more interested in the interplay of emotion that passed over John Winchester's face as it continued. “Is there a problem, Winchester?”

“Hell yes there's a problem. What the fuck are you doing!? This is a hunt, not a baby shower!”

Will's eyebrow cocked upwards as he snarked, “Really? I had no idea; it's not like I haven't been to at least two in the last nine months.”

Winchester's eyes narrowed sharply as he hissed, “You're a snot-nosed little shit, you know that?”

“Well, never heard it put in those terms before, but I'm aware that I'm not exactly to everyone's taste.”

Glaring, the older man rounded on the German witch hunter. “You're a damned hunter. Get control of your team. Fucking around . . . goofing off . . . there's no place for that on a hunt. You take charge. You give the orders. You expect to be obeyed. Not shown up by your smart-mouthed, punk ass brat.”

The younger Grimm brothers all went dead silent, eyes flashing back and forth between the man and their older brother. Will was wound about as tight as a spring, and it wasn't hard to see that Marina was only seconds away from shoving Jason's head out of her lap and doing some massive damage. Meanwhile, Hansel was standing motionless, arms folded over his chest as he met the other man's vitriol with stoic silence. There was a long moment, before he spoke, “Hyu are a terrible father.”

Whatever the other man had been expecting, it had not been that. He stumbled backwards a little in surprise at the statement, before his features twisted up in fury and he stalked forward. Hansel didn't even flinch as the man got close enough to throw a punch, only putting up a hand to grab the fist and twist. The end result was John Winchester up on his toes, with his back to the German, as he tried to prevent the other man from dislocating his shoulder. “Asshole! You let me go this fucking instant!”

Hansel's only response was an even, “Shut up.”

Gretel, however, was not so restrained. As John's feet started to kick backwards in an attempt to dislodge Hansel's grip, the German woman moved forward and drove her foot solidly into Winchester's crotch. Even as he subconsciously moved to check his own package, Will snorted in laughter at the sight of the other man's eyes snapping wide in agonized shock, before he crumpled to the ground in pain. All the while Gretel was haranguing him in impassioned German. Marina was not as restrained as her lover; it wasn't long before she was laughing so hard she tumbled backwards off of her log.

Sam Winchester's eyes were wide as he breathed in awe to his brother, “It's a good thing Dad had us already. I don't think he's ever gonna get it up again, after a hit like that.”

If the frown on his face was any indication, Dean was clearly conflicted. On the one hand, that woman had just clobbered his father in the nuts; like fuck, that had to have hurt. And on the other hand, the woman had just clobbered his father in the nuts; that was pretty kickass. “Dad? You okay?”

The only response was a low groan, though what it could have meant was lost in translation as Winchester rolled to his side and curled tightly into fetal position. Looking up at the two teenagers, Will sighed. “Get your gear; your father is sending you spelunking with Dad and me. We'll handle Winchester while you're getting your stuff together.”

Still looking a little unsure, Dean nodded in agreement; he'd been conditioned his whole life to obey orders. And he knew that no matter how gentle the tone, the older man was giving him an order. “Yes sir,” was the only response, as he stood and hauled his baby brother up from his seat. “Come on, Sammy. We gotta get ready to go.”

Marina smiled at the longing look the younger teen gave towards the still warm breakfast materials. “I promise, Sam . . . there is more than enough food for you to have seconds when you get back. Go on.”

“Yes ma'am . . .” he said, before grimacing at the upward cock of her eyebrow, stammering out, “I mean, Marina.”

Sighing, she insisted, “We'll work on it. Scoot.”

Nodding in agreement, he scampered off towards their tent with his brother on his heels. As soon as they disappeared, Will moved to crouch beside the still moaning form of their father. One hand slipped into his thigh pocket, pulling both a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from its confines. “All right then. Mr. Winchester, might I suggest that we attempt to start over? Unless you'd like my aunt to kick you in the balls again?”

There was a definite whimper in response to that as he tucked himself in tighter, eyes tightly closed and therefore missing the sly smirk on Will's face as he lit a cigarette and took a lungful of the smoke. “All right then. Maybe this time we can at least attempt to get along . . . at least until the job is done.”

John's voice was pained and weak, but still vicious as he hissed, “You're just a kid. What the hell do you know about hunting? About fighting for your life? About sending in people to die?”

“Admittedly, this is my first paranormal hunting gig. But I can assure you, from what Dad's told me, it isn't much different than hunting terrorists in the Sandbox, or chasing down rogue Red Room assassins for S.H.I.E.L.D., or being led to believe that your little brother was dead because of an IED that blew up your convoy and tried to wipe out your entire family in one foul blow.” Baring his teeth angrily, he hissed, “But yeah . . . what the hell do I know about anything?”

It was about then that Marina spoke up, “Colonel . . . might I suggest that we get a move on? Daylight's wasting . . . and we've only got four more days till the moon gets bloody.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Will nodded solemnly. “Agreed. Everyone mount up! You've got your orders! Do not engage.” Turning to look at the two veteran hunters in the family, he asked, “We ready?”

“Go get your gear, Adler . . . I'll meet you in the Jeep.”

Grunting out a brusque agreement, and more than willing to get the hell away from the asshole on the ground in front of him, the oldest Grimm moved towards Marina and took her arm in one hand, pulling her tenderly along beside him. Waiting until his son and his partner disappeared into their tent, Hansel crouched in front of Winchester with a frown. “I did warn hyu to shut up. Might I suggest that it would serve hyu well to listen to the opinions of someone not hyurself once in awhile?” Glancing up at his sister, he smirked, “Do not worry about coming with us . . . I know my sister . . . her bite has always been worse than her bark.”

Gretel's face twisted as she planted one more solid kick into Winchester's kidneys as she spat viciously, “Arschloch.”

Struggling to look disapproving, the older Kuhn sibling scolded, “Gretel.”

“What!? It is not as though he does not deserve it!” she protested, her tone growling as she hissed in the other man's direction. “Will is a good soldier . . . a good leader. Who the hell does this Ficker think he is?”

Hansel chuckled as he slid one arm around his sister's shoulders insistently, “He is a man who does not care for the opinions of others. He is the only one who can be right, because he is the only one with all of the answers. It is not up to us to change that, only work around it.”

Mouth twisting bitterly, Gretel sighed, “Those poor boys . . . to be stuck with a Vater like him.” Looking up at her brother, she whispered, “What are we going to do? They cannot go with him.”

Smirking, Hansel agreed, “I would not worry. If I know mein Adler und meine Tochter, they are already knee deep in a plan to take them away with us.”

“Will he let them?”

“I do not think he will have a choice in the matter,” was the last the German said on the matter, before handing his sister up into the backseat of the Jeep and climbing in after her.

Before long, the camp was empty save for one man, still curled up in fetal position on the ground, his groans the only soundtrack.