Chuck 1. Nightmare Meet Reality

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_Due to the current economic situation, the light at the end of the tunnel will be turned off until further notice."_

**Nightmare Meet Reality**

The cold night air burned in his lungs as his red converse covered feet struck the pavement again and again. He was so very tired, legs throbbing from his dead mans sprint, heart pounding from exertion a nerd like his self hadn't experienced since high school gym class, ears ringing as he ran down the alleyway. But he couldn't stop, no matter how exhausted he felt, because IT was right behind him, chasing him, hunting him.

He had to keep moving, keep pushing, keep forcing his body against its will. A loud thud followed by a metallic screeching echoed from behind him. IT had crashed into the dumpster that he had past just seconds before. IT was gaining on him.

A sob tore its way out of his abused throat as he forced his tortured body to go even faster. If he could just make it the Castle then he would be safe, not even IT could force its way through half a foot of steel.

He could see the Buy More now, just 300 meters away. He was never going to make it, not through an open parking lot. The Orange Orange was closer, not by much, but maybe it was enough.

The full moon lit up the abandoned lot as he sprinted for the frozen yogurt shop that masked a government operation beneath. He couldn't hear IT behind him anymore, the silence more frightening then anything else, but he refused to slow down like his body begged, not until he was in the Castle.

He never saw the shadow out of his periphery vision, but he did feel something large slam into him, tearing at his back as his head connected painfully on the concrete. Charles Bartowski, Nerd Herder by day, undercover government asset by night, prayed that his handlers, Sarah and Casey made it out okay before his vision swam black and he could keep his eyes open no more. He never did feel the teeth tearing into his shoulder as unconsciousness claimed him.

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EARLIER THAT DAY

"I'm sorry General, but could you repeat that," an incredulous Chuck asked, staring at the screen General Beckman was displayed on. "It sounded like you just said 'werewolf'."

Chuck gave his customary awkward nerd laugh that was accompanied his air quotes before he cut off abruptly several seconds later when he realized that nobody shared his humor. He glanced first over at Casey who was scowling, then at Sarah whose lips were pressed in a grimace, and finally back to the General who sat emotionless like always.

"She's not joking Bartowski," Casey's clipped answer to his unasked question had him on edge.

"I assure you Mr. Bartowski," Beckman continued as if she had not just been laughed at. "Werewolves are very real; just ask Major Casey if you are not inclined to believe me. I believe you ran into a group of them in Venice a couple of years ago did you not?"

She didn't wait for the Major's confirmation nod before diverting her attention back to the whole group to finish the briefing. "The man you flashed on is the leader of a drug cartel and yes Mr. Bartowski, he is a werewolf. I need you to infiltrate the Warehouse he is operating from and grab the stolen files before Fulcrum gets their hands on them," she paused and straitened some papers before finishing. "I'll let Major Casey brief you on the lycan situation since he was first hand experience, and Major," Beckman waited until they made eye contact. "Be careful."

The screen went black as the General signed off, but it was several more minutes before any of them moved. Casey was the first to walk away from the table they were all seated behind, but it was unsurprisingly Chuck who broke the silence.

"Sarah?"

It seemed as if that was the only thing he was capable of saying but that one word held many questions within it. In the tone he used he was asking _'What the hell?'_ and _'Is this for real?'_ as well as _'What do we do now?'_

"I know it's a lot to take in, Chuck," Agent Walker started, taking a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. She had never seen a werewolf in real life before and her knowledge of them only extended to what she heard in passing during her training. "But I assure you what the General says is true. Aside from what I was told by my instructors a few years back, I know next to nothing about them."

Major Casey looked up from the blue prints when he noticed the absence of sound in the room, seeing as Chuck was there it couldn't possibly be quiet, and met two inquisitive pairs of eyes that had latched onto him as if he was the Holy Grail and held all the answers to everything. Grunting in annoyance, he set the map down and prepared himself for the onslaught of questions. To avoid the impending headache, John decided to employ a strategic tactical move; the best defense is a good offence after all.

Holding a hand up to stall the nerd from talking, because once Chuck got started nobody else could get a word in edge wise until the kid had run out of steam, he could practically see him vibrating in his chair with curiosity, Casey began his lecture. "Alright, I'll start at the beginning, throw everything you know about Lycanthropes out of the window, all that Hollywood crap is bull shit. Forget everything, even you Walker." Casey sat back down and made himself comfortable. He had a feeling that this was going to be a very long conversation.

"The first thing you need to know about werewolves is that like normal wolves there are many different breeds and classes, such as Alpha, Beta, and etcetera. But unlike wolves there are only three types. A breed of a werewolf usually depicts coloring, size, body shape, and even level of aggression. I'm not going to list off any of the breeds because it is really not that important and there are over fifty.

"I'll start with classes and then move to types. Werewolves cannot choose their class, they are born into it. Rarely a Lycan can move up or down one level, but that practically never happens. The first type, like any pack structure is the Alpha. The Alpha is surprisingly not the most dangerous werewolf to run into, in fact that is one class of werewolf you pray to run into, because an Alpha is very strong, intelligent, but also confident. Very rarely will an Alpha categorize a human as a threat, but they will attack any other werewolf that isn't apart of its pack, which I will get into later so you can put your hand _down_ Bartowski.

"The second is a Beta which is the worst to run into. Since they hold a position of high power, but not the highest, they will usually attack anything and everything they deem a possible threat including humans, animals, and other werewolves. After that is an Omega, they normally keep to themselves and are fairly calm. Omegas are negotiators, peacekeepers; they only fight if there is a major threat to the Pack. After Omega you just have the unclassified werewolves, they are called Others. You want to stay away from those. They are extremely violent and enjoy killing.

"Now identifying the type of werewolf is vital. You need to remember them and be able to classify a type immediately if you ever run into one because it could mean life or death," Casey paused to let that point drill home. "The first type is Pack. A Pack wolf is one that as the title suggests belongs to a Pack. These wolves," Reaching over he pulled out a file and handed out some pictures. The pictures held what looked like giant deformed canines in large groups. "This is a Pack, and Pack wolves are usually less aggressive and more confident because of the fact that they have others not far away to back them up if they get in trouble.

"You can usually tell a Pack wolf because it will either ignore you if it sees you, or it tries to investigate you. If you run into a Pack wolf your main priority is to get out without pissing it off or scaring it, because both reactions will end in the same result."

Chuck tore his eyes away from the unbelievable photos in his hand and caught Casey's eyes. He knew what the big man was going to say next, but he needed to hear the words in order to understand what nightmare he just walked into. "The Pack comes running?"

"That is correct," John's voice softened a little when he noticed how pale Chuck had gotten. "And if the Pack comes to aid the other, then you better be long gone by then because they _will _tear you apart, no questions asked."

Casey really didn't intend to scare either of them, but they both needed to understand just how dangerous these things could be. "The second type is called a Rogue. These are wolves that have no Pack, so by nature they are far more aggressive. They _will_ attack on site. Unfortunately Rogue werewolves are far more common and this Alejandro De La Vega is most likely Rogue."

Reaching over, the Major grabbed his water bottle and took several gulps from it to water is dry mouth. He never usually talks this much and it was making his throat hurt a little.

"What's the third kind," Sarah's spoke for the first time since he started. He had almost forgotten she was even in the room.

"Bonded," When they both gave him confused looks he elaborated. "A Bonded werewolf is a Rogue that has a," Casey paused to find the right word. "Guardian… Keeper… Handler? They really don't have a word for it.

"The _Handler_ is usually someone that the person and the wolf inside them completely trusts, and through bonding they have a symbiotic relationship, much like partners. There are very few Bonded Werewolves because the wolf is very untrusting and because of the fact that the process demands that the person they are bonding with spend every day with them until the bonding is complete. The shortest bonding took three months, the longest was two years. The only real Bonded Pairs you see are Government employed. There was a guy in my unit about seven years back who had a _Handler,_ though I never did get see his other form."

Sarah noticed that the topic of Bonding had caught Chuck's interest and she decided to steer the conversation back onto more important matters before her fake boyfriend could start playing twenty questions. Because if he started now, he wouldn't be done for hours and Casey would very much feel inclined to shoot him, and Sarah had a feeling that she just might let him if her headache didn't go away any time soon.

"Are Bonded more or less dangerous then the other two types?"

Casey paused as if he were thinking about it before answering. "Yes and no. If the wolf is on our side then no, they aren't. You could almost classify them as harmless. On the other hand if it was playing for the other team then yes, they would be far more dangerous. Bonded werewolves have more of their humanity in the forefront then other lycans because of the fact that they have a partnership with a human; this means that they are more analytical, they think things through, and they solve problems. They don't just react to something; they actually analyze it before coming to a decision. A smart enemy is always a dangerous enemy."

"Is it true that werewolves change on the full moon," Chuck sudden question stopped the current conversation. He barely waited for Major Casey to nod in affirmation before continuing. "Then if we go tonight with the full moon a couple nights ago, then we should be fine, right?"

"Sorry, but no," Casey looked as if he wished it had been true, and found out through a hard experience that it was not. "Werewolves _are_ forced to change during the full moon, but a transformation could be triggered through extreme anxiousness, fear, anger, etcetera. Some can also transform by will, but those are usually only the older species of werewolf."

"Great," Chuck exclaimed before he slammed his head onto the metal table. Sarah winced in sympathy, the resounding thump sounded painful. "Anything else we should know?"

"Aside from the fact that they have an excellent sense of smell, hearing, and sight, along with super human strength? No."

"What about contamination?"

The second Sarah's question had popped out of her mouth, Chuck's head flew up from the table and he looked at him accusingly while parroting her words. "Yeah, what about contamination?"

Scrubbing a hand up and down his face, Casey sighed heavily before he got into another long explanation. "Werewolves can't contaminate those who aren't already lycan by nature. It's in the DNA. Lycanthropy is a recessive gene that is carried in the blood and only emerges when the DNA of another Lycan comes into contact with it."

"Soooooo," Chuck drew out the vowel as he thought about what he was just told. "Unless there is already werewolf DNA in my bloodstream, I can't become a werewolf even if another one bit me?"

"Exactly, it would just really, really hurt. That is assuming you lived through it," Casey held up his hand to cut the computer tech off. "The only way to tell if you have Lycanthrope DNA is to get tested which both Walker and myself have and turned up negative. We can get you tested as well, but that is going to have to wait until after the mission."

A contemplative look overcame Chuck and before Walker or Casey could head him off his question was out of his mouth and out in the open. "Hypothetically, if a werewolf bit me, and I had Lycanthrope DNA, then would I become the same breed as it, and say it was part of a Pack, would I be part of the Pack too? And what about-"

"No and No, Bartowski," Casey cut him off. "Now shut up and get ready, and somebody go grab me the machete."

Chuck turned to Sarah as the Major went to the armory. "What the hell does he need a machete for?"


	2. Goodnight Moon

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_We live in a society where pizza gets to your house before the police do… Anybody else questioning this?"_

**Goodnight Moon**

Major John Casey could count on one hand how many times he felt fear, true fear. The kind of fear that stops your heart, makes your blood run cold, twists your guts, and keeps your hand shaking. This was one of those times. He knew that this mission was going to be dangerous, but he didn't think everything would go this badly. Nobody was supposed to be inside the warehouse, especially not Alejandro De la Vega. After that everything just went downhill.

De la Vega ended up walking in on him and Agent Walker in the drug dealer's office, digging through the desk and filing cabinet. Alejandro took one look at them and the shit hit the fan right after that. Casey, having never seen the actual transformation of a werewolf, seriously underestimated the amount of time it would take. He thought it would at least take up to several minutes, giving them time to sneak out during the change, but in his rage it only took Alejandro several seconds, six in fact.

He could see his life literally flash before his eyes as the huge eight foot tall three hundred pounds of pure man killing machine stalked him. Even though he was sure he was about to die, his training over rode his natural fear and he was still classifying what he was seeing. De la Vega was most certainly a Rogue, if his aggression was anything to go by, and his breed was one of the newer Northern American, possibly European.

His form was twisted and gruesome meaning that he was not a pure blood so the Lycanthrope DNA was very diluted. Dilution in the DNA was far more common then one would think. Over half of the werewolf population looked as twisted as Alejandro did. His head was too big for his body, just like his paws were. His fur was an ugly grey, very thick, and missing in many places and his appendages looked bent out of shape.

Sarah trembled beside him as the large yellow teeth snapped in his face and its rancid breath washed over him. He was paralyzed in his fear. Then he heard _his_ voice, Bartowski shouting at the werewolf, throwing things in order to gain its attention. Chuck then turned tail and ran like a bat out of hell. Surprisingly, De la Vega followed him.

Sarah collapsed next to him, her legs giving out from under her. Casey's own legs trembled, but he refused to let them follow the example of his partner. He turned to Walker once his body obeyed him again and saw tears streaming down her face, her form shaking as she tried to hold back the sobs tearing at her throat.

Shoving the pity he felt for her aside he reached down, grabbed her arm, and yanked her back onto her feet. "Snap out of it, Walker. Bartowski needs us."

Sarah's eyes finally lost the deer-in-the-headlights look as her training kicked in. Color started to come back to her face as she pulled her gun out and followed Casey out of the warehouse and down the street. They had an asset to save.

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Agent Sarah Walker ran after her partner Major John Casey as he tracked down where Chuck and the werewolf went. It wasn't that hard to figure out which direction they went. She could see a dumpster to her right that was completely smashed, as if something huge had run into it. Claw marks on the sides of the buildings were like arrows pointing the way.

Casey was twenty paces ahead of her, though physically fit herself, he was quickly pulling away. She saw him round the corner ahead towards the Buy More, and she prayed for Chuck to be okay. As she neared the final turn, Walker heard gunshots followed by a howl, Casey yelling, and then silence. Sprinting around the corner, Sarah came to a dead stop at the sight before her.

The Lycanthrope was nowhere to be seen while Casey was kneeling in a rapidly expanding pool of blood, a limp body clutched tightly to his chest. It took Sarah longer then she could recall getting her legs moving again, towards the scene that she desperately wished was untrue. Numbly her fingers grabbed her cell phone and typed in the number for medical emergencies. She didn't know what she told them, she never even remembered hanging up, but the next thing Agent Walker knew, she was kneeling on the ground and clutching Chuck's cold unmoving hand.

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Blood, there had been so much blood. It was everywhere, on his clothes, covering his hands; he could even taste it in his mouth. John Casey's eyes were fixed on his tanned calloused hands, they were clean now, everything was clean. He even had clean clothes on, but he could still see it, _his_ blood. He could feel it on his skin, dripping down his fingers.

"How is the Asset doing Major Casey?"

The General's voice echoed dully around the cold silent room that had held so much excitement just hours before, drawing Casey from his tormented thoughts and Sarah back to the table. He couldn't answer her, neither of them did, they didn't know how he was doing, but it couldn't be good, not after he lost so much blood.

"Mr. Bartowski is stable for now, General," A sweet female voice filled the air. Doctor Lee was a tiny woman of Asian decent who flew in two hours ago with her team to save Chuck's life. It would have taken too long to transport the Asset to the nearest hospital; he would have never made it. Instead he was taken to the Castle and she and her team of the finest medical doctors the government could offer set up an Operation Room in one of their holding cells.

Dr. Lee took a seat near Agent Walker, keeping a professional distance, and set a folder down before beginning her official report. "Mr. Bartowski lost a lot of blood, luckily we had prepared for any possible outcome and overstocked on O negative bags and were able to replenish most of his lost supply," She shifted in her chair, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "The werewolf bit him on the left shoulder, crushing his scapula and doing some major damage to the upper humerus and clavicle."

General Beckman looked thoughtful for a moment, as if considering her options, before seeming to come to a decision. "Very well, we shall pull the Asset off of the field for a month. Agent Walker, I want you to meet with the family and tell them you and Mr. Bartowski are going on a cruise; I will prepare the appropriate papers. During this trip, Mr. Bartowski will have sustained this injury; I will let you and the Asset work out the details. In the mean time we will send him for reconstructive surgery and have him start physical therapy as soon as he is ready."

The General leaned forward to grab the remote and sign off but Doctor Lee stopped her. "Actually General, he won't be needing the surgery or the physical therapy," She waited until Beckman gave her a gesture to continue. Opening the folder before her, Lee pulled a paper out of it with perfectly manicured nails and placed it gently on the metal table as if it held a great secret.

"This is Mr. Bartowski's blood results," Lee started, face pinched as if she just sucked on a lemon. "He tested positive for the recessive Lycanthropic gene."

Casey didn't think that he heard such a loud silence before; he never thought it was possible. But that was the only way he could describe the quiet that stretched out before them, it was practically deafening. Agent Walker looked as if she had watched somebody run over her new puppy and then back up over it again. Casey couldn't be positive, but he was sure he looked something like that as well.

General Beckman picked up some papers and straightened them, but he could tell that she was just giving herself something to do. Even she was shocked by the news, after all what were the chances, one in a billion? But being the General, she was able to recover from it faster then the rest of them. "Are you sure, Doctor?"

Clearing her throat, Doctor Lee nodded her head before going into the more technical aspect of the report. "Mr. Bartowski's upper arm and shoulder should be finished healing by early next week, with complete mobility in less then three. His Lycanthrope DNA is from an older species; possible mid European… we are still narrowing it down. This means that he most likely transform in the next few days instead of the next full moon. It is not going to be an easy transition unfortunately, but we do have an opportunity here I think we should capitalize on."

If only looks could kill. Casey's nails dug into the palms of his hands, restraining himself from reaching across the table and strangling the 'Good Doctor'. Sarah's face held nothing but pure contempt as she glared daggers at the small woman next to her, body tense, and hands itching for some sort of weapon. "What the Hell do you mean an _opportunity_? This is Chuck we are talking about; you know the man you just finished operating on, the one that was just made into a chew toy by an overgrown mutt. Where is the opportunity in this?"

Everyone could hear the borderline hysteria in her voice and through the trauma they had all just experienced, Casey was still able to pray that Beckman hadn't noticed how compromised she was, how compromised the both of them were. "Actually Agent Walker," The General interrupted, stemming all further argument. "The Doctor is right; we do have an opportunity, one we cannot pass up on.

"Very rarely do we get a werewolf of the old blood during the first stages of the Transitioning. We have to make him a Bonded now, or he will need to be terminated. We cannot afford to have him turn Rogue. Normally we would bring in someone specially trained for this, but considering Mr. Bartowski is an Asset of the highest classification, bringing someone else in could be a security risk. Doctor Lee knows the process of the Bonding, she will walk you both through it, and then you will decide amongst yourselves who will be the Handler. I suggest Agent Walker try first, seeing as she already has a bond with the Asset. I want frequent updates," Beckman once again grabbed the remote, but she made one last comment before signing off. "Don't screw this up."

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His shoulder was in agony, nothing could penetrate his haze of pain. His whole world revolved around the torture he was feeling, it felt as if his blood was on fire, scorching an inferno through his veins. But he wasn't alone; something else was there, just behind his eyelids, in his head, tucked under his heart. It was in every breath he took and every thought he made. He didn't know it was, but he wasn't afraid. Reaching out he tried to understand this thing that danced along his psyche. It was full of rage and anger and contempt, along with fear and confusion and loneliness.

Chuck felt the need to comfort this thing inside him, calm it as a mother would a child. But it was hard with the lava burning under his skin, and his shoulder hurt so very much. It whined, this thing within him, this other him that wasn't. It growled and paced and snarled in its discomfort, and yet it seemed to want to sooth his pain. It was Chuck's agony that made it uncomfortable, because it made them vulnerable. It needed to know where they were, how badly they were hurt, were they mobile, could they move, who had them? It needed these questioned answered, and only then did Chuck realize he needed those answers too.

He forced his eyes to open, even though he wanted nothing more to embrace the black abyss of sleep. The second he did though he wished he had kept them closed. He saw bright white and then a face was in front of him, covered with a surgical mask and uncaring eyes, and then a needle went into the tube connecting into his arm. He reached to pull it out, but he was stopped by cold uncaring hands that strapped him down.

Chuck's eyes were getting so very heavy, but the thing raged inside of him, fighting off the drug. But it couldn't fight forever, and after a second dose, even the thing laid down its weary head and joined him in the world of dreams.


	3. Transition

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, __  
__there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong."_

**Transition**

Agent Sarah Walker listened numbly as the tiny woman before her went through the packets on the table. Each packet contained detailed accounts and procedures for the Bonding, and Sarah was beginning to feel intimidated. Casey didn't look much better. So much could go wrong, so many little things could ruin this whole thing, and Chuck would have to be put down, he would be terminated if this didn't work.

The first five minutes were crucial, if she couldn't affirm her dominance over Chuck's human side, then the Wolf would never listen to her. But at the same time she needed to show that though she could dominate, she wouldn't. If she over dominated him, then the Wolf would see her as a threat and attack her. It was very confusing and almost everything that the Doctor said seemed to contradict something she had stated earlier. And they all ended the same way, with him attacking her.

Her hands were shaking by the time she stood outside the holding cell. They had moved Chuck to the one across from where Doctor Lee had operated and turned the cameras off for privacy. He looked so weak and frail on the cot. His upper torso was bare except for the bandage on his shoulder and the strap pinning his arm to his side so it wouldn't move and risk opening the wound. A pair of dark grey sweat pants lay low on his hips and an I.V. was still attached to his good arm. It was slowly leaking a sedative into his system, keeping both Chuck and the Wolf asleep.

A male nurse stood by the bed with a clip board and was staring at her expectantly. Dr. Lee had informed her that he was there to remove the drip because the Asset needed to be awake for the first part of the Bonding. Sarah took a minute to collect herself, breathing deep and calming her nerves she visibly started to relax. If the Wolf sensed she was apprehensive and nervous then he would react with aggression.

She felt more then saw Casey move up behind her as she stepped into the room. The nurse gently eased the needle out of Chuck's arm before taking the unit back into their converted operation room, and it was only then that she realized they had taken everything out aside from the bed that had been nailed down. It wasn't for his safety, it was for theirs, and that was what really drilled the situation home. He no longer needed protection from the world; the world needed protection from him.

Sarah took a seat on the thin uncomfortable mattress and held Chuck's hand in between her two to wait for him to awake. She saw Casey step out and close the door, the lock hissed into place and she suddenly felt trapped. Casey would wait outside the room incase anything went wrong, but she still felt so very alone. Her hands started to shake again.

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Chuck could feel consciousness pulling him back to the world of the living. The thing inside him curled around his mind as it tried to shake off the drugs. This thing was not him, but it was apart of him. He felt as if it had been there all along, he just wasn't aware of it. Chuck didn't know what to make of this new thing inside of him, that was apart of him and yet not at the same time. It was a contradiction, it was wrong, and yet he wasn't afraid.

It suddenly uncoiled around him, snarling in anger as something came to its notice. It was trying to tell him something, trying to communicate in its own words of primal tongue. It fascinated him, but the thing would not let him have time to ponder its existence, not when he needed his human to pay attention. _His human?_ The strange form of possessiveness did not bother him; in fact Chuck seemed to be filled with a sense of warmth, and caring. It was almost as if it loved him.

A smell hit his nose, it was almost overpowering. His eyes watered as his brain tried to categorize what it was. He knew that scent; it was like vanilla orange with a hint of danger and death. It didn't like the scent, the thing that was inside of him. The smell made its nose itch and eyes burn. Rage bled out of its every orifice and into him until Chuck felt nothing but anger towards the one that held that smell.

His eyes snapped open and his hands wrapped around the throat of the person who angered _his_ _beast_. They couldn't allow the person to live, not when they were both so weak, because _they_ posed a threat.

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Casey wasn't entirely sure what had happened. One moment Chuck lay motionless on his cot, looking broken, tired, and weak. The next, he had Agent Walker slammed against the wall, right hand crushing her larynx, and her feet hanging several inches above the floor. The Major didn't even remember keying in the lock code, but he suddenly found himself behind the Asset and staring up at Sarah's face that was slowly turning purple.

Her hands were clutched around Chuck's wrist, nails biting into the skin as she tried desperately to get out of his inhumanly strong grip. Normally in a situation like this, with his partner in trouble like she was, Casey would have taken out the culprit, but this wasn't a normal situation. So he did what Dr. Lee had been drilling into their heads the last four hours. He did what he thought was right.

Stepping up so he was only inches away from Chuck, Casey wrapped his left arm around the torso of the much thinner man, hand splayed on his stomach, and brought his right arm over the one strangling his partner and placed it around the Asset's throat. John didn't squeeze his neck; just placed his hand over the smaller male's and left it there, as a warning.

"Chuck," Major Casey's voice was calm and even, not portraying his pure uneasiness at the situation he found himself in. "Let her go, Chuck."

It was an order, not a request, and Casey expected for their Asset to refuse like he always did, so he was caught completely off guard when Chuck lowered Agent Walker to the ground. His hand slowly relaxed around Sarah's throat as if he was contemplating whether or not he really still wanted to strangle her, before he released her and dropped his arm to his side in an obvious display of submission.

John caught his partner's eyes as she clutched her abused throat and pulled much needed air into her deprived lungs. He shifted his head to the door, and Sarah didn't even hesitate as she practically bolted out of the room, barely remembering to engage to the lock, sealing Casey and Chuck in. She left back to the conference room, shaken and sore but mostly intact, not wanting to see what they both knew what came next.

This wasn't how they planned it; Sarah was supposed to be the Keeper. Instead the Wolf had rejected her within minutes of her arrival. It hadn't even been completely conscious when it had attacked her. John knew Chuck was riding the passenger seat right now because he would never attack Walker if he had been the one in control. The kid practically worshipped the ground that the woman walked on.

So now Casey found himself the one placed in the role of Keeper, and he had absolutely no idea what to do. It was supposed to be Sarah standing here, not him, but as he felt Chuck shift backwards, leaning his body against his much larger one, and rest his head on the Major's chest, Casey thought that maybe it was for the best.

If Sarah had been Bartowski's Keeper, then that would have opened up a whole knew can of violent and very compromised worms. No way could the Wolf completely trust her, not when she pulled Chuck's heart strings every which way, letting him in only to reject him again and again. No matter how much the kid thought he loved her, Casey knew deep down that he also despised her for what she put him through.

When Beckman told them that Agent Walker would be Chuck's Keeper, John had at first felt relieved that it would not be him the mission was riding on. He knew that becoming a Keeper was a huge responsibility, one that would most likely occupy the rest of his life. It wasn't like becoming a Handler to an Asset; this was a whole new playing field. You couldn't just leave, this wasn't something you could walk away from, hell, you couldn't even be replaced. No, once you become a Keeper to a Lycan, you stay the Keeper until one or both of you die.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to take on such a life altering task, but it looked like he had been given no choice. John was pulled out of his thoughts as the head that had been leaning against his chest shifted and he suddenly found Chuck's nose being pressed into his neck as the Wolf took in his scent. Casey moved his thumb to the other side of the Asset's neck and started to stroke the skin there slowly, trying to keep the other calm so he wouldn't bite his neck out. He was still portraying his dominance, but now it was more of a gentle reminder.

A deep rumble, almost like a growl, reverberated from Chuck's body and he could feel the vibrations in his chest. He paused the slow circular movement of his thumb, before continuing when he realized that the sound was one of content, not aggression. John and Chuck stood like that for nearly five minutes before the Wolf finally gave control back to the Asset.

As the rumble faded Casey felt the other shift as if in confusion and ask in a very quiet and weak voice, "Casey?"

"Yeah Bartowski," He answered just as softly, moving his hand from the Asset's neck to his good shoulder, carefully avoiding his injury. He now held Chuck in something that could be considered a hug. The smaller male let his left arm continue to hang limply but brought his right one up to grip the arm around his stomach. "You okay?"

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Chuck wasn't sure how long the two of them had been standing there, but only when Casey's gently asked about his well being did he remember the pain he had been in before. It seemed that as soon as he was reminded of it did the agony flood back into his system. His shoulder was on fire, and now he could see why. A bandage was wrapped tightly around what he was positive was a large and gruesome wound. Blood was beginning to leak through the white gauze from his exertion.

Whimpering in pain, Chuck twisted his body around in Casey's grasp so he was now facing the larger man and buried his face back into the other's neck. Inhaling deeply, Chuck could literally feel the thing inside of him sigh in contentment as it curled around his mind and rumbled in his heart. As the Major moved his arm in comforting patterns on his back he felt the thing yawn widely before falling into a deep slumber.

Casey made the thing inside him calm; he made it content, unlike the other one that was no longer here. The other made his beast angry, he remembered attacking someone, but he couldn't for the life of him remember who. The pain drew his mind away from such thoughts anyway so he pushed it to the back of his head to contemplate on later.

He was moving now, John was leading him somewhere, but he didn't want to go anywhere, he wanted to stay there forever. It hurt less when the larger male embraced him, moving sent electricity firing through every nerve ending, the pain increasing as it got closer to his shoulder. A high pitched whine mixed with a low groan filled his ears and it took him a moment to realize that it was him that was producing the strange noise.

John was hushing him, stroking his back to lessen the pain. The next thing he knew, Chuck was being gently eased into a bed, with sheets being pulled up to his chin. It felt better once he was laying down, propped on his right side, knees pulled up into his chest. He saw Casey move away momentarily before he came back, needle in hand.

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Casey walked over to the bullet proof glass door and knocked on it loudly to be let out. Dr. Lee came down the hall, heels clicking, and at the Major's nod, she punched in the seven digit number that unlocked the door. "How is he, Major?"

Her question was one of not just interest, but in honest worry. Even though she was inquiring as to her patient's well being, Casey couldn't help the feeling of protection that surged through him. "Fine," John grounded out between tightly clenched teeth as he drew himself to his full height and crossed his arms in a defensive gesture. Only once the much smaller woman raise her eyebrow did the Major realize what he was doing.

Forcing himself to relax, he was about to apologize before Lee held up her perfectly manicured hand to forestall him. "It's alright Major, your reaction is perfectly normal. You are in the beginning stages of Bonding with Mr. Bartowski, your protectiveness is to expected," Pausing to reach into her coat pocket, the Doctor pulled out a capped needle, and before Casey could start tensing again, she handed it gently over to him.

"It's a sedative," She explained quietly. "I'm sure your Asset is in a lot of pain. There is enough in there to knock him out for several hours, just enough for you to brief the General and then go home and retrieve your things. We were not prepared for you to be the Keeper, so you will need to gather what you think you will need. The General will be expecting your report in seven minutes."

As soon as she was finished speaking, Dr. Lee turned sharply and walked purposefully back to the conference room, heels clicking loudly. Casey stood in the threshold for several more seconds before he numbly turned and stepped back into the room. He heard the door close gently behind him, but the lock did not engage. Moving back to the younger man on the bed, he lowered himself to the floor so he was kneeling and set his hand on the other's face to gently gain his attention.

"Bartow-Chuck," He corrected himself, slowly stroking the other's face he brought the needle up so the newly turned Lycan could see it. "This is a sedative; it will help with the pain," His tone of voice was not only telling the Asset what he held, but it also was one of question. He was asking for permission.

Casey saw Chuck close his eyes before nodding his head in consent. Prepping the needle, he carefully eased it into the arm that Bartowski had lain out for him. The sedative took control quickly, he could visibly see it working as Chuck's face relaxed and took on a look of peace and serenity instead of pinched in pain.

Rubbing the spot where he had injected the drug, Casey told Chuck that he would be back soon. He wasn't sure if the other listened to him or not, because the next thing he heard was a light snore coming from the Asset. A tiny smile danced across his lips as he stood and made his way out and into the conference room. This may not have been the way they had planned, but suddenly becoming Chuck's Keeper didn't seem so bad after all.


	4. Welcome To Your Life

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_Toyota…moving forward, even if you don't want to."_

**Welcome To Your Life**

General Beckman was staring at them with an expression that could have been contemplative or one of disappointment. Sarah would never know because she could not bring herself to look up from the table. This was not what anybody had been expecting. Beckman had entertained the possibility of the Asset rejecting Agent Walker and had in fact prepared to fly in another Agent specifically trained in the field of Keeper if Bartowski had refused the Bonding. But not even she was prepared for Major Casey to step up to the plate, and never in a million years did she think that Chuck would accept him.

To say that the two didn't get along would be an understatement. They argued all the time, even in front of her. She thought that the Major had been trained better then that, to get into a tiff in the presence of a superior officer. But after knowing Chuck for upwards of two years, she could understand why. The kid had a strange way of being able to push ones buttons without even opening his mouth, and when he did start to talk, even she had to resist dropping to her level and bickering with him. But he also got under ones skin.

He was like a fungus, he grew on people. Even she was fond of him to some extent. That was why she had let Agent Walker, who had no previous training as a Keeper, and limited knowledge of Werewolves attempt to start a Bonding. Don't get her wrong, the classified aspect of Mr. Bartowski's situation was a major factor in her decision, but she also considered how it would affect Team Bartowski, as the nerd had so affectionately named it. Not that she would ever tell any of them.

She had thought that Agent Walker would fail, seeing as the history together wasn't always puppies and sunshine, but Beckman figured she owed them at least the chance. Typing a quick memo on her computer, recalling the Agent since he was no longer needed, she thought upon what to do now.

She could tell all three members in the briefing were expectantly awaiting her next order, even if two of them refused to look at her. Agent Walker was staring dejectedly at the metal surface of the table, her head hanging just low enough to portray her disappointment and self directed anger, which was understandable, without being disrespectful. From what she had gathered, both the Asset and the Wolf had rejected her while they were still unconscious. She would feel the same at the face of such a complete failure. Major Casey on the other hand was staring avidly at the wall just over Sarah's shoulder. If she didn't know better she would almost think that he looked embarrassed.

That was also an emotion she could also understand. Becoming a Keeper wasn't like finding oneself an owner of a pet, this was way different. Keepers and their Wolves were always very close, since they never spend very much time apart they had to be. But she was also aware of the kinds of relationships that were built through such interactions. Usually, but not always, the Bonded pair became more then just friends, they became lovers.

As far as she was aware, Major John Casey's sexual preferences had always been set on women, but she learned early on that Team Bartowski knew no limits and surprised even her. She was expecting such a thing to happen, even if she secretly wished it not so. This wasn't a matter of who was compromised anymore, because as she stared at two thirds of her most successful undercover unit, she knew that they were already compromised. It was far too late to pull them out now though; the Asset needed both of them in his next few months as he became accustomed to what he really was. Removing either of them at this point would be detrimental to the mission…and his well being. The Wolf may have rejected Walker, but Chuck hadn't.

As she relayed her conclusion to the small group before her, watching relief flood their faces and hope shine in their eyes, she couldn't help thinking that her decision was one of bias. Maybe even she, General Beckman, was a little compromised too.

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It wasn't even ten minutes after the briefing with General Beckman when Sarah found herself outside of Chuck's locked glass room. She placed a hand gently on the bullet proof glass as she gazed upon the sleeping figure within; all the while contemplating what the General had told them. Sarah knew the second she had left the room after the Wolf had tried to strangle her, that Casey would be his Keeper. But she wasn't prepared for the devastated feeling that squeezed her heart and stole the air from her lungs when she actually herd the words come from the stern mouth.

She was angry, Walker realized, at Alejandro for biting Chuck, at Casey for stepping up where she couldn't, at Beckman for keeping her here so she would have to see and be reminded of it everyday, and at Chuck for rejecting her. But mostly, Sarah found she was angry at herself for failing. She hadn't been able to step up to the plate when the lovable nerd had needed her. _'No,'_ she reminded herself. _'Chuck didn't need me, he needed Him.' _

Just thinking about Casey made her angry again, and she had to press her forehead to the cool glass and take several deep breaths before she was able to calm herself. The Major had left the moment the General had concluded the meeting, going home to collect his things. That reminded her that she needed to call Ellie so the lovable woman wouldn't start posting _'Missing'_ fliers all around Burbank.

Pulling the phone out of her pocket, she scrolled through her contacts list before stopping on Chuck's sister. Her thumb hovered over the call button for several minutes before she sighed deeply and put it back in her pocket. She would call later, when she was sure she knew what to say, because right now Sarah had no idea what would come out of her mouth if Ellie wanted a heart to heart. No, it was safer to just let her wonder for a while longer and make the call when she wasn't feeling so very compromised.

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The cars moved slowly passed him as John Casey waited patiently in traffic. It was just after nine o'clock in the morning so everyone was either going to work to start the day, or getting off the graveyard shift and heading home. He wasn't to keen to get back to Castle anyways, not with what was waiting for him. Now that he had had some time away from the situation, he was able to view it from a less emotionally shocked and very confused mind set.

It was about half way through him packing his clothes when a thought struck Casey and made him freeze mid fold. This was really happening to him, he was going to become a Keeper. He momentarily entertained the thought of just leaving, grabbing his duffel bag and heading home, away from the Intersect, away from Walker, away from the NSA. He could retire and disappear off the grid and no one the wiser. But he was too loyal for that, too patriotic.

John had been given a direct order by his superior officer so he would see the mission through to the end, even if that meant him dying of old age. Besides that though there was another reason that he didn't want to think too hard on. He couldn't leave Chuck to do this on his own; he respected the kid to much, and maybe cared a little for him too.

Finally reaching his exit, Casey pulled his large black standard issue SUV off the freeway and within minutes he found himself in the parking lot of the Orange Orange. He was maybe several dozen feet away from the scene of the crime. The blood stain was gone, most likely removed by the cleaning crew; he couldn't see from here, but he was sure that they repaired the damage in the alley as well.

He sat in his vehicle for several more minutes, engine still running but idle. Casey knew that the moment he opened that door and stepped into Castle, he was sealing his own fate. It was almost like he was getting married, because in several minutes, he would no longer be a 'single' man, he would forever be with Bartowski, literally until death do them part.

Grimacing at the irony of it all, Casey finally grabbed his bags and made his way into the Orange Orange. This was his last minute as a free man. And to think, he didn't even get a bachelor party.

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The Wolf rumbled in annoyance as his human slept on. They had been drugged, it could tell. His head was cloudy and movements slow. It took longer then it liked to burn the sedative out of their system, but he let his human continue to slumber. Their shoulder had been ripped through by another werewolf, an older werewolf, but a weaker one. He wouldn't let that stand, if he saw the other again he would tear the other's throat out and relish in the glory of death and destruction.

Pushing the pain to the back of their minds, he let his human sleep in peace as the Wolf paced in agitation. The woman with the infuriating scent was there, she wasn't in the same room but he could smell her, and it made him angry. He knew his human cared deeply for her, maybe even loved her, but he needed to make his human understand that it would never accept her. They couldn't love her, she wasn't good for them, not with her twisted words and barbed tongue. She would ruin his human again, just like she did before.

Dancing within his memories, the Wolf pulled out a name and face to the scent. Her name was Sarah, and by human standards she was quite pretty, but she was also very dangerous. He viewed his human's emotions that were attached to the face and found that underneath the love and hero worship there was a deep seeded anger and loathing. It was buried deep and the Wolf considered his violent reaction to be based upon these darker emotions, but he knew that most of it was more instinctual. He knew that she could not be trusted.

Just thinking about the woman made the blood boil in his veins and his felt his human shift at his rage, but before he could let his anger awake the other, a scent filled the room as someone entered and a feeling of contentment washed over both of them. It was the same man that had appeared before he could break the female's neck, calming his human and him at the same time.

As the male came closer, the Wolf found his human subconsciously relaxing and falling into a deeper sleep. He let the tension and anger drain out of him as the other took a seat near them. He liked this man and surprisingly so did his human. He searched for a name and face and found them. His name was Casey, and many of the emotions tied to the name were ones of annoyance, anger, and aggravation, but there was also hero worship and a deep underlying trust that his human was most likely unaware of. But this male had never betrayed them, he always told his human the truth even if he didn't want to hear it and he was always there to protect him when things went bad.

He wasn't like the other woman. This man could be trusted, and both the Wolf and his human did unconditionally, even if his other half didn't know it. The Wolf sighed in pleasure as he settled himself down to rest when he realized that the other male was going to stay. It didn't take long for him to fall into as deep a slumber as his human, the pain once again shoved to the back of their mind. It was going to be painful in the morning, since he couldn't block it out forever, but the Wolf was a creature that lived in the moment, and tomorrow was a far time away. Now he was tired and happy, so he let himself sleep with the scent of cinnamon, gunpowder, and clover on his mind.


	5. Unneeded

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_Stress: The confusion when ones mind overrides the body's basic desire to choke the living day lights out of some ass hole that really needs it."_

**Unneeded**

Agent Sarah Walker was unsurprisingly once again sitting behind the cold metal table in the debriefing room of Castle. It had been three days since their botched mission. Three days since Chuck lay bleeding on the unforgiving pavement. Three days since his surgery. Three days since…Sarah cut herself off mid thought. A lot could happen, had happened, in three days.

Casey had barely left Chuck's room…his cage. He lonely left to eat or relieve himself. John had tried to hide the evidence but Sarah knew he was sleeping on the floor at night while pouring over the previous cases of Bonding, packets of basic Bonding instructions 101, and anything else he could get his hands on. Their was too much information and not nearly enough time.

Sarah on the other hand holed herself up in her hotel room or in the conference room in Castle when she wasn't working. Occasionally she could be found at Chuck's house, having dinner with Ellie and Captain Awesome as she dealt with the 'Break Up.' The cover story that they had come up with was that Chuck and Sarah had had a falling out after a nasty argument and were taking some time off from their relationship to re-evaluate where they were going.

Chuck (read Government) had left a note for Ellie stating he needed some time to himself to think and Casey had invited him to travel the world with some of his buddies during the summer. It left neither date of return nor any contact information, but stated that Chuck would contact her at the first available moment. Ellie decided to channel her worry and frustration away from her brother that she could not reach and instead focused it on getting Sarah through the bad breakup with assurances that Chuck would return soon and when he did he would taker her back with open arms. To say Sarah was a little skeptical would be an understatement.

Major John Casey was drumming his fingers in annoyance and, not that he would ever admit it, but partial anxiety next to her. He had forgone his usual seating position at the other end of the table and Sarah drew comfort from his silent presence on her right, even though she was still shrouded in anger and resentment over the rejection. A part of her felt guilt though because she knew; deep down, it was her fault that neither Chuck, nor the primal beast within him could ever accept her.

Doctor Lee was sitting across from them with one of her male assistances. They were seated where Casey and Chuck usually sat. The thought sent another painful stab through her broken, shattering heart. General Beckman was absent, for once, from the meeting. Nearly every inch of the table was covered with folders and papers. Some of the pages held the medical information of Chuck's wound, but most held pictures and detailed accounts of the first transformation. Lee was informing them of what to expect.

"I won't lie to you," she told them, closing one of the folders before her. "It's going to be painful and difficult to watch," Dr. Lee pushed the folder away from her, giving herself enough room to place her folded hands on the table, before looking both or the Government Agents directly in the eyes. "You need to prepare for the possibility that Mr. Bartowski may not survive these next few hours."

Sarah was snapped out of her mental musings and thoughts of self doubt so quickly she worried she might suffer whiplash. "What do you mean," Agent Walker was now standing, both hands pressed onto the pages scattered around her, leaning forward in anger. The sight was intimidating to say the least.

"Sarah," Casey said her name in a resigned sigh. He sounded almost defeated, and definitely tired. His hand came up to grip her forearm, drawing her attention away from the tiny defenseless Doctor across the table.

"No, Casey," Walker snapped at him, tearing her heated gaze away from her intended target long enough to get the Major to remove his hand. Once that silent battle of wills was completed and John made a quick strategic retreat back into his own space Sarah continued. "What the _Hell_ do you mean he may not survive?"

Though Doctor Lee was obviously startled by the CIA Agent's outburst she didn't let that get in the way of her professionalism. Standing to her full height of a very unimpressive five foot one, squaring her shoulders, she put as much heat into her gaze and demanded that Agent Walker taker her seat. It was only at Casey's insistence once again that made the stubborn blonde obey, that and the fact that she desperately needed to know what the other woman was going to say.

Doctor Lee took her seat once she saw the aggression leak out of Agent Walker and leaving a defeated and desperate woman in its place. Lee felt actual pity for the other female; it was obvious that she cared deeply for her Asset, maybe a little too much. Clearing her throat, she continued as if she had never been interrupted.

"The Lycanthropic gene is a volatile one. The more diluted the gene the higher the survival rate, and visa-versa for the older more pure gene. It took us several days to narrow down Mr. Bartowski's breed and I would like to state for the record that we ran the test several times and we are certain that the results are accurate. Your Asset is a Type Two Carpathian Mountain Lycanthrope from Romania."

Silence seemed to shroud the group as reality started to set in. A Type Two meant he was second generation werewolf, a direct descendent from an original breed. Not only an original breed but 'the' original breed. Carpathian Mountain Werewolves were the first ever recorded werewolves in history. There hadn't been a sighting of any of the Carpathian Mountain breed since the mid eighteen hundreds. The closest was a Type Four Ukrainian. Everyone had assumed that they had died out, either through extermination by hunting, or breeding difficulties.

It was common for the older breeds of Werewolves to be infertile so a second generation was almost unheard of. The most common Type was Type Five or Six from the older breeds, the gene having skipped generations at a time, and cropping back up far more diluted a hundred or so years later.

Sarah started to finally understand what Dr. Lee meant by Chuck's chances of survival being slim and it seemed that Casey did as well. The smaller the number of Type the longer it took to transform for the first time. The process was excruciatingly painful and the longer it took the higher the probability of the body simply shutting down from shock and nerve endings going into overload. Not only did Chuck have to contend with a lengthy transformation, but the older the breed the larger the wolf, which meant that he would be going through a transformation on a much larger scale.

Doctor Lee cleared her throat once again, not only gaining everyone's attention, but gathering their thoughts as well. "As you can now see, the odds are not stacked in Mr. Bartowski's favor. Not much is known about his breed but we gathered as much data as we could and even pulled some information from closely related breeds in order to discover what to expect…it doesn't look promising."

She paused for a minute, giving those around the table a moment to gather themselves and prepare. "Mr. Bartowski will not go through the first main transformation like most Lycanthropes; instead he will go through a series of them. The first could last anywhere from six to ten hours, starting at sundown tonight and retreating around sunrise tomorrow morning. He will transform every night at sundown until the next full moon in which he will then transition into the more regulated three day cycle of the night before, during, and after every full moon. As he goes through the first transitioning, each transformation will get easier and take less time then the one before. As the next full moon is three and a half weeks away it gives Mr. Bartowski ample time to become more accustomed to his other half and in fact, speeds up the Bonding process significantly…that is of course assuming he survives the first several transformations."

She held up a hand to forestall the angry barrage of questions that were forming within both of Major Casey's and Agent Walker's minds. "The first three transformations will be the most difficult. After that his chances of survival greatly increases," Lee paused, as if she was debating whether or not to inform them of something that would most likely be hard to hear. "I should warn you, the probability of Mr. Bartowski surviving to the end of the week is less then 15 percent."

"Is there…" Sarah trailed off, trying desperately to gather her stray thoughts as despair tried to consume her. Casey was uncharacteristically silent. He wasn't a talkative person by nature, but he had barely said two words since they sat down almost three hours ago. Agent Walker took a deep breath before continuing, her voice only slightly cracking. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

An inquisitive look seemed to appear upon Doctor Lee's usually stoic face as she considered the younger woman's question. She took a moment to gather some papers and go over the data before she answered. "There are a few things that can be done to make the transitioning a little easier on your Asset," she seemed almost hesitant to continue as if she knew that her words would cause conflict. "For the Bonding process and for Mr. Bartowski's comfort you will need to be with him for every transformation, Major Casey. Both the Asset and his wolf need to come to terms with your constant presence and it is easier for both of them to accept that during the first few stages then say several months down the line.

"It will not be easy, Mr. Bartowski will most likely be very dependent upon you, as you will be his touching stone, a constant from his old life and he will cling to you like a life preserver. The wolf on the other hand will most definitely try to separate itself from you. It can do that in several ways, the first and most common would simply be to kill you. You, Major Casey, are not Wolf, therefore to him, you are not Pack. He will treat you as a threat and try to attack, but he won't be able to. After the first transformation, he will be exhausted and weak to the point of not being able to stand. You need to capitalize on his weakness and try to maintain constant physical contact, to demonstrate that you are neither a threat, nor are you leaving.

"After he has transformed a couple times, he will start to regain some of his former strength and try to dominate you," Lee paused, looking him directly in the eye, a look of cold steel shrouding hers. "You _cannot_ let that happen. Your continued presence will make him start thinking of you like Pack, and he will look for structure, it is simply their way. The wolf will test you, trying to gage how much he can get away with, how far he can push you. You _cannot_ be lenient. Treat him as you would a puppy, dominate and correct the behavior, but _do_ _not_ punish or reprimand. He needs to think of you as an equal and he _will_ fight you for every inch of it. Very rarely does a Werewolf accept a Keeper without fighting tooth and nail for independence."

Casey looked sullen as his lunch sat like lead in his stomach, making him nauseous. Sarah didn't feel much better. Her face was ashen and her mouth slightly parted in disbelief as she stared unblinkingly at the small doctor. When the small Asian woman turned her attention to the other female, Sarah visibly flinched. "Agent Walker," Sarah prompted her to continue as she had trailed off. "It would be better if you were not here, at least until his transformations become more consistent and start to coincide with the full moon. Until then the Wolf will always be just below the surface."

Sarah clenched her fists in anger and turned her head away from the others as her eyes stung with tears. She knew that she was going to be excluded from the Transitioning process, but hearing someone tell you that your presence was unneeded was still painful. "Right now," Lee continued her voice low and devoid of emotion to avoid conflict, "Agent Walker, your continued existence in the same facility as the Asset has caused him undo stress and that stress could be detrimental to his health. Mr. Bartowski will be in a very vulnerable state in the next few weeks and it would be in his best interest if he was exposed to as little outside stimulation as possible."

They were given a few minutes to process the information before the Doctor stated speaking once again. "Your presence, Agent Walker, will be vital after the Transitioning. Though the Wolf does not accept you, your Asset will need you," her words gave Sarah some comfort, however little it was. She was right, of course, her presence, right now, caused the Wolf discomfort and in turn agitated her Asset. But after this Chuck would need her in order to help him cope with his new reality. Sarah may not have liked the situation, but Chuck needed her to stop back for his and wait. She would do what was necessary for her Asset, her friend. She would wait until Chuck needed her, but in the meantime, she would Keep his sister company and protect his cover.


	6. Dreams and Reality

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_There are two theories when arguing with women. Neither one works."_

**Dreams and Reality**

It was black where he was, trapped in the abyss between reality and not. It was nice, almost soothing in a way. Chuck wasn't sure how long he had been there, within the in between, but he was positive it had been at least several days since he was last in the waking world. Casey, his handler, had been there every time his eyes opened and was usually there when they again closed several minutes later due to the pain.

Sarah, on the other hand had been conspicuously absent, though he wasn't sure if that as all together a bad thing. There was something about her, Chuck wasn't sure, but it was just off. For some reason something inside of him loathed her presence and wanted nothing more to tear her apart and watch the blood pool around her as the life leaves her eyes…slowly. This part scared the Intersect.

Before everything, before the Intersect, before the missions, before the lying, Chuck like to believe he was a fairly peaceful man. He had never liked violence, not even as a kid. The closest he could come to accepting it was when he was watching Bruce Lee films with his best buddy Morgan. He had gotten fairly used to it as his relationships with his handlers progressed and they were put in the front lines more and more often, but he still didn't like it.

With Sarah gone it seemed as though that part of him that wanted to rip and tear and destroy had receded somewhat into the background. Still, the Asset wanted to question the Major about her location, but by the time he noticed her lack of presence and got his vocal cords back into working order he was already sailing halfway to the blessed pain free abyss.

Something stirred within him. Around his heart, in his mind, behind his eyes it was moving, pulling him back to the world of the living, and no matter how hard he fought against it, the force was simply too strong. The thing inside him was awakening, truly and completely for the first time.

It was full of so much anger and primal hate that Chuck could feel its basic need to rage and destroy consume it completely. Oh how it wanted to rage. Fire consumed him, burning his skin and boiling the blood within his veins. Chuck screamed.

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Casey sat upon the cold concrete floor reading a book just for the pleasure of reading. He had read every file Dr. Lee handed him front to back until they were etched into his brain. Now all he had to do was wait. This by far was the most difficult part of everything…the waiting.

Sarah and John had waited for the ambulance to arrive, waited to hear news about Chuck's condition, they waited for General Beckman's decision, and they waited for Chuck to heal. Now it seemed like he was waiting for it to begin. Agent Walker had left just under two hours ago, her flight was departing at o'dark thirty in the morning. Her cover story was that she was flying back east to visit family and would return in a month or so. In reality she was being recalled to Washington by the General and was being placed on desk duty until further notice.

When the doctor had stated that Walker needed to be elsewhere for the next month, somehow D.C. hadn't crossed John's mind. But now that he thought about it, the distance away from the situation and the downtime that came with it would probably do her some good…it would do them all some good. All of 'Team Bartowski' had been strung pretty tight these last few weeks, especially since Beckman had thrown assignment after assignment at them without any breathing time in between.

Even the unflappable and ever enthusiastic Bartowski was starting to show the effects of fatigue do to long term stress. Casey could also seriously use some down time, but with the way things were at the moment it would have to wait. Right now he was needed, Chuck needed him, and he _refused_ to fail.

With his back leaning against the bed, Casey didn't see Bartowski open his eyes, but he did hear him shift restlessly. It was just after sundown and Castle was abandoned except for the two in the cell. Dr. Lee had packed up her equipment and shepherded her people into the helicopter just after Sarah had left. With Chuck's shoulder almost completely healed and Casey's head full of all the information she could give him, the tiny woman was no longer needed. She had given the Major her personal cell number if he ever was in need of her skills or advice but cautioned him to only use it in the case of emergencies.

After everyone had left, Casey had initiated a level three lockdown on Castle, sealing everyone out and them in. He had then over ridden the pass codes and all locking mechanisms, with the permission of the General of course, so only he himself could open the doors or access the computers. It was mostly precautionary but Chuck was a computer genius before the Intersect got downloaded in his brain and the Major wouldn't put it past the younger man to attempt to escape. That couldn't be allowed to happen.

For the entire next month Chuck would unfortunately be behind the wheel for only several hours out of the day, the wolf always just under the surface. During the night the Werewolf would be free to roam in his own form and Casey wanted to restrict his movements to certain sections for obvious reasons, but during the day Chuck would be in control…mostly.

Doctor Lee had informed him that anything, and by anything she really meant _anything_, could set him off and relinquish control to the wolf. He wouldn't change completely, but the wolf would be in the driver's seat and the NSA Agent was not ready to release that onto the population.

Until Chuck got his transformation under the control of the moon he would be a danger to society and Casey would not take that risk. He would rather have a pissed off Chuck and homicidal Werewolf inside Castle then an overwhelmed and confused one outside. Chuck would forgive him…he hoped.

All of the cameras and listening devices had been turned off within the bunker. The Bonding process was a fragile one and he needed both Chuck and the wolf to trust him implicitly. Casey had read a document about an incident (read disaster) that happened just over five years ago where there had been a government bonding gone wrong. Casey couldn't remember which department it was, possibly the FBI, but the reports showed a surveillance attempt of the process.

The government officials had one of their own turned and instead of handing them over to the branch that specifically dealt with those kinds of situations they had decided to attempt a Bonding on their own. It would have worked too, if they hadn't tried to record it. What they had failed to realize was how good the hearing was of a Werewolf and the sounds that devices give off.

A Lycan in his unit had once explained that surveillance devices gave off a high pitched whirring noise that can be annoying at the best of times and that most Werewolves hate nothing more then being observed. He said it made them feel like they were being watched, being stalked, turning them into prey causing them to lash out.

The Werewolf had discovered said devices and went ballistic, something about betrayal of trust, and had not only killed his soon to be Keeper, but seven other agents before it could be put down. Casey didn't think Chuck or the wolf would object to such observations, since Bartowski was used to the 24/7 surveillance, but he would rather be safe then sorry, and besides this was a personal thing that he would rather not be seen by anyone else.

Marking his page, Major John Casey placed his book underneath the bolted down bed where it would be safer and moved to sit on the edge of the far too small bed. It wasn't even a bed, not really, more of a cot actually…a tiny uncomfortable cot. Chuck had curled himself into what sort of resembled a fetal position, only to straighten a second later and moan in pain. This process was repeated several more times before Casey placed one gun calloused hand onto the nerd's forehead. He was burning up.

The transformation process had begun. According to the reports he had read, Chuck was experiencing what could only be described as his blood turning into lava. Soon his bones would start to reform and that was when the real pain would begin. John eased an arm underneath his Asset's back and legs and gently moved him to the floor, the bed was too small for Bartowski to change in, and the damage he could cause during it was not something Casey wanted to deal with.

Once he had the Intersect comfortably on the cold floor, taking some of the heat out of him, Casey placed Chuck's head in his lap and ran comforting fingers through his hair. There wasn't anything he could do to ease his Asset's pain, but he could try to give him what comfort he could. They were in for a long night.

Eyes roaming the smaller man's naked torso, Casey was surprised and quite disturbed when he could actually _see_ the muscles shift, move, and reform just underneath the skin. Seconds later he heard a disgusting snap of bone and Chuck was forced from a curled position into a back breaking arc as his spine was severed and _slowly_ started to reform.

A gut wrenching scream was torn from his lips and the Major was almost forced to plug his ears it was so loud. He had seen many people tortured in his long career as an NSA operative, tortured a few himself in fact, and even on occasion been tortured himself, but never before had he heard someone scream like that, and Casey was positive that that sound would follow him into his dreams for years to come.

Chuck's eyes snapped open and the larger male was stunned by the color change. His normal brown eyes were gone, in fact everything was gone, even the white. His eyes were completely black and Casey couldn't tell if it was the pupil that was stretched or the color of his iris…he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Another sickening crack filled the air and Chuck convulsed so forcefully that he was thrown off of Casey's lap and into a kneeling position where he then proceeded to clutch his head in agony, his screams still tearing apart his throat.

Doctor Lee had told Casey that he couldn't leave during the transformation, but she never said anything about watching it, and so it wasn't even five minutes later that found Casey turning his head away. He couldn't watch, didn't even want to listen. Everything about this situation went so far against his instincts it was almost painful.

For upwards of three years Casey had lived to protect the Nerd Herder extraordinaire. He had watched over him, ordered him, rescued him when said Asset failed to obey said orders, listened to his ridiculous conversations about sandwiches, worked with him, made quiche for his family, opened presents with him during holidays and the one year that Chuck had suspiciously discovered his birthday, and even took a bullet for him on occasion. And now here he was, his Asset, the man he was sworn to protect, in pure utter agony and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

Flinching at every crack, eyes pressed tightly shut, teeth clenched, hands balled, Casey started to feel a deep seeded anger creep up on him and was forced to calm himself down. He was pissed, at the world, and the Werewolf for biting Chuck, at Chuck for getting infected, and at Sarah for screwing with the kid's feeling so much that she couldn't be his Keeper. Oh how he desperately wanted to wish himself away from here, away from the responsibility, away from the order's, away from Chuck who he couldn't help.

Casey would have left right then and there if it were any other person in the room, but it wasn't, it was Chuck. He had promised to protect the kid and he had failed because Bartowski had _refused_ to stay in the fucking car. On the other hand he would be dead right now if the Intersect hadn't come in and bailed both Walker and himself out of the sticky situation, but then again Chuck wouldn't be in this position either.

He would have been assigned new handlers, possibly better handlers that wouldn't pull at his heart strings or threaten to rip his spleen out of his throat if he didn't shut the hell up. Even so, Casey couldn't bring himself to leave the kid by himself like this, just like he couldn't bring himself to burn him like Beckman had ordered over a year ago.

Only when silence filled the room after hours of that agonizing scream did Casey open his eyes. What he saw actually stunned him into immobility. Chuck was gone, and in his place lay what could never be mistaken as anything other then a Werewolf. He was huge; taking up most of the floor space in the small cell, Casey estimated him to be ten to eleven feet at least.

His fur was a luxurious black and as he moved closer he realized that it was his only color. No patches were missing and in no way did his skeletal structure seem to be malformed. It was only then did Casey realize what being of the old blood meant. There was only one word to describe him other then deadly and that was, "Beautiful."

A large canine head shifted in his direction at the noise and two black eyelids slowly lifted revealing black eyes, the only color was the pale gold iris' that glinted dangerously in the low light. Casey saw a muzzle that was at least half the length of his arm wrinkle and lips peel away from large white fangs. The wolf snarled.


	7. Down Boy

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_Man has his will, but woman has her way."_

**Down Boy**

The night was definitely not young no matter what any teenager trying to separate themselves from underneath their parents large umbrella of protection would say. At three o'clock in the morning, the sun just under four hours away, Eleanor, call me Ellie, Bartowski was completely and truly exhausted. Stumbling into her home of seven years that she shared with her brother and fiancé, she was more then ready to wash the day off of her tired body and sleep into next week.

Devon, her fiancé, or Captain Awesome as her brother Chuck called him, was still working his never ending shift and wasn't due to be off for another three hours. In a way that was a good thing because Ellie really wanted to be alone at the moment. With Chuck gone to god knows where the older woman found herself constantly reminiscing over old photo albums in order to stem off her worry.

Talking and comforting Sarah through the completely unexpected breakup had been strangely helpful to her, even though Sarah was a mess. She was taking the whole thing pretty badly and Ellie knew there was more to it then what she was saying, but she didn't try to pry any more information out of her. After all she could just grill Chuck on the details when he got back…if he got back. Ellie didn't want to think so negatively but she was also trying to be realistic.

John wasn't exactly the most nurturing man she had ever known, which wasn't all that surprising with his impeccable military background. And she hadn't met any of his 'friends' but chances were they were just like him. Ellie was afraid that exposure to someone like that would have negative side effects for her baby brother, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Sarah was leaving in the morning; having taken the breakup as bad as she was Ellie was glad that she was spending some time with her family. Though she was happy that Chuck was getting out of Burbank to see the world, she worried about him, especially since he left with no notice, just a note that had left her even more frazzled. Sarah had been strangely supportive of Chuck's sudden urge to travel and Ellie had decided to no longer discuss it until her baby brother was back in ranting distance.

Dragging her sore and aching body into the blessed heat of the bathtub, Ellie wondered what her brother was doing…probably something incredibly stupid knowing Chuck. God, how she hoped he was staying out of trouble.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Deep underground beneath the Buy More and the Orange Orange, two figures were locked together in a battle of wills. Major John Casey's eyes were riveted to the pale gold ones of what used to be Charles Irving Bartowski. Casey took a hesitant step towards the very large and very angry werewolf before stopping suddenly at the snarl his movement had produced.

For some reason when he had been discussing scenarios with Doctor Lee and Agent Walker, freezing up hadn't been one of them. He just didn't think that Chuck would be _this_ large. After all, the werewolf that had bitten the Asset was a good three feet shorter and Alejandro had not small…not by a long shot.

A large black paw that had long flexible human like fingers with wicked claws moved under the huge body as the snarling muzzle lifted slowly from the ground. Casey could see muscles bunching underneath the smooth midnight fur as the Beast tried to hoist itself up. Luckily for the NSA Agent, he failed miserably.

It was just as the tiny doctor had told him, Chuck was simply too weak. His transformation had taken an amazing six hours and personally Casey was surprised that he was even conscious. Easing himself even closer, John slowly crouched down until he was just out of snapping range of those impressive razor sharp fangs. The wolf snarled at him in warning and tried yet again to fight against gravity, and whimpered pitifully when he couldn't even push himself up an inch.

"Easy, Bartowski," Casey's voice seemed loud and harsh to even his own ears. Toning down his vocals, he tried to sound reassuring. "Calm down before you hurt yourself, Moron."

Bantering was easy and familiar, it was something he could do. He was trying to normalize the very bizarre situation he found himself in and it seemed to have the startling effect of calming the werewolf as well. The wolf's lips were still curled above his teeth but the snarl had dimmed to a barely perceptible growl.

Casey brought his left hand foreword slowly, palm facing the wolf, and left it hanging in the air just inches from its nose. Moving his right hand around out of the wolf's vision, John waited for a reaction and prepared for the worst. "You bite me Chuck and there will be hell to pay."

Seconds later he was forced to jerk his hand back out of the danger zone as the large teeth snapped shut where it was just located. He considered himself quite lucky that the werewolf's fatigue kept it relatively slow when moving so he wasn't in danger of loosing a limb.

The second he heard the sharp click of teeth meeting air, Casey brought his right hand around and grabbed the now closed muzzle and applied pressure so he was incapable of reopening them. The wolf struggled for a moment, but was far too weak to pull itself out of the human's grip and after a moment he laid his head down in weariness, lips finally covering white fangs.

Only once Chuck was no longer fighting him did Casey bring his left hand back up and place it once again in front of the wolf's nose. His right hand eased pressure off of the large maw and instead he moved it so he was cupping the top of his muzzle. In doing so he gave control back to the wolf to make it feel more at ease, while keeping it in contact as a reminder.

Slowly, so slowly that Casey would have missed it if he wasn't paying close attention, he heard snuffing noises as the wolf inhaled and his head shifted towards his hand on the floor until he felt his cold nose touch the inside of his palm. The wolf continued to take in his scent, but no longer made any aggressive actions, and Casey started to carefully move his right hand back and forth over the top of the muzzle while watching for any negative signs.

The wolf lay passive but tense underneath him and the Major took that as a good sign. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, Bartowski?"

His question went unanswered and Casey almost started when he felt something warm and wet touch his fingers. "Did you just lick me," A look of consternation crossed his face before a smirk curled his lips and Casey moved his right hand off the wolf's muzzle and up into the top of his head where he started to rub at the base of his ear.

A noise filled the air that Casey could only classify it as a cross between a whine and growl, before he watched the tension melt out of the huge body and golden eyes close in bliss. If Chuck had been human he would have moaned in pleasure.

Chuckling softly to himself, Casey resumed his position leaning against the base bar of the bed and gently lifted the wolf's head so it was lying in his lap, all the while maintaining constant pressure on his ears. "I am never going to let you live this down, Idiot."

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

When Chuck awoke five hours later it was to a mouth full of cotton and a headache that was worse then when the Intersect downloaded itself into his brain. It felt like that one time he let Bryce talk him into going to that Frat party, the young college student hadn't known exactly what happened, but he woke to a nasty hangover and chained naked to fire hydrant with marker decorating his skin. It was needless to say that he never let Bryce talk him into anything _ever again_.

Moaning in agony, Chuck attempted to bury himself deeper into his bed to make the bright lights go away and he had his second epiphany that morning which was quickly followed by a third and a shocking fourth. The second was that he hurt…everywhere. He tried to remember if he had taken up cliff diving or wrestling… with a tiger…and a guerrilla, but nothing could explain why his body felt like it had gotten run over by a dumpster truck, and then dragged down a street only to be tossed off a bridge.

His third realization was sadly not his most startling but definitely most disturbing. Chuck was not lying in his bed; in fact he was lying _on_ a person. He was in between a man's legs, and it was definitely a man if the morning wood was anything to go by, and was pressed face down into his stomach. Turning his head slightly, the Nerd Herder tried to get a good look at whom he seemed to drag into his bed. It took several moments of concentration to get his eyes to focus and once he did he nearly had a heart attack. It was Major John Casey…he was currently using the NSA Agent as a gigantic teddy bear.

'_Oh God, what the hell happened?'_

The Major was leaning half against the wall and partly against the headboard of what was now obviously _not_ Chuck's bed and Chuck was _sleeping_ on him. _'Oh God, oh God, oh God, what do I do?"_

Slowly and carefully Chuck unwound his arms from around Casey's torso and attempted to scoot away from the gun obsessed government operative before he woke up and that led to another observation and his last epiphany. The observation: Casey had his hands wrapped under Chuck's arms and around his back making it so he wouldn't be able to make a hasty getaway before he awoke. The epiphany: Chuck was naked.


	8. Sandman

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_Northern fairytales: 'Once upon a time.' Southern fairytales: 'Hey, Y'all not gonna believe this shit.'"_

**Sandman**

_"I'm NAKED! Oh God what do I do, what _did_ I do? Holy shit, need to escape, make a strategic retreat, abort Bartowski, ABORT!"_

Of course that was easier said then done. The second that Chuck got his tortured body to obey his equally tortured mind, pure agony flooded his system. It felt as if his skin was trying to melt off his bones, never before had he been in so _much_ pain. He didn't think any part of him wasn't hurting, even his teeth ached. Muscles were twitching underneath his skin as they started to spasm for some God forsaken reason.

Chuck opened his mouth to scream, but his throat wouldn't function and all that came out was a choked off sob that died upon his chapped lips. Tears streamed down his face as his fingers clenched into the fabric beneath him. Body shaking and tense in agony, Bartowski had long forgotten that another person was with him in the room and so he was caught completely by surprise when he felt hands cup his face.

Eyes that he was unaware were closed shot open and he felt fire burn behind his retinas as his mind boiled. Another scream tried to tear past his lips but instead caught in his throat and ripped at his vocal chords, shredding the soft tissue and sending another spasm of pain throughout his whole body.

He heard a voice that was not his say something, it might have been his name, but Chuck could hear nothing beyond the blood rushing past his ears. Something was moving his head up, maybe hands, pulling his face out from where he had unknowingly buried it into the soft fabric and hard stomach beneath him. He tried to fight the hands, tried to bury his head back into the blessed darkness, but he was too tired and soon gave into the other.

Even with his eyes screwed tightly shut, the light still hurt and his muscles seized up again sending an inhuman whimper to escape his damaged throat. There was a voice again, deep and gravely, and Chuck knew that voice, knew that tone, but couldn't figure out _why_. And then the hands on his face were moving as gun callous fingers pressed into the sides of his head, at his temples, rubbing through his hair, messaging his neck. The fire behind his eyes eased…his agony turning into a dull throb and this time when Chuck lied his head back down he was met with no resistance.

Slowly, slowly, his muscles started to release the tension and stopped spasming, leaving him achy and tired and just so exhausted. Fingers raked through his hair, nails dragging on his scalp, thumbs pushing again into his temples in small circular motions. Another whimper pushed past his abused and battered throat, ending in a long moan, less in pain, more in pleasure and Chuck didn't even think to be embarrassed until a low deep chuckle danced across the room. He could feel the vibrations through the chest he was lying upon.

Heat flared into his far to pale cheeks and Chuck's body tensed as he tried to move away. Needless to say, he never did get far.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Casey was awoken by feeling something move, his arms automatically wrapping tighter around the heat source that was trying to escape. The broken sob was what forced his eyes to open. It took the Major less then five seconds to sweep the whole room for threats and turn his attention to the person in his arms.

When his gaze fell upon Bartowski, broken, sobbing, and whimpering in pain the memory of last night came back to him. Sarah leaving, night falling, the _change_. The transformation had lasted most the night…all of the night, and never before had Casey wanted to have a disability, but during those hours he had wished himself deaf. The sounds that came out of the Nerd Herder's voice sent a chill up the assassin's spine. The Major was a hard cruel man, but not even he would wish that upon his enemies…well most of his enemies. Casey could name several men he would love to hear that sound come from, but not Chuck…never Chuck.

He had remembered the way the wolf had snarled at him, and then after awhile seemed to accept him. If he was being honest with himself, Casey would have thought that the wolf would have put up much more of a fight. It was disturbingly easy to get the wolf to calm and then go to sleep, but it seemed that just like Chuck, the wolf trusted Casey too.

Casey had been unable to sleep, and every time his eyes closed all he could see was Chuck withering in agony and hear the loud broken screams of a tortured man. While Bartowski slept on, John remained awake, tortured by his own thoughts and so he was awake when the wolf transformed back. It was less of a change and more a melding. It appeared as if the Werewolf just dissolved leaving behind a scrawny young man child in its place.

This time it was much quicker, lasting maybe ten minutes top, and was blessedly silent. He could still hear the bones breaking, see the muscles shifting, but Chuck remained blissfully unaware in his unconscious state and for that Casey was thankful. Once Chuck was again in human form, Casey had eased him onto the bed and had accidentally ended up joining him when he couldn't get Chuck to let go of his shirt and fatigue over took the Major. He wasn't quite sure how he had ended up in this position, with the Asset all but on top of him, but honestly at this point he wasn't complaining.

Turning his attention back to the very naked Nerd Herder that was wiggling quite uncomfortably in his lap, Casey wanted desperately too shoot something…anything. Casey was not a kind man, he was mean, he was hard, and he was cruel, but right now that wasn't what Chuck needed. He didn't need a Handler, he didn't need an Assassin, and he didn't need a Protector. Right now Bartowski needed a friend, and Casey wasn't sure what he could do for him.

He wasn't one to give another comfort, it had been such a long time since he had just held someone and tried to ease their pain, but for Bartowski…for Chuck he would try. They were lying diagonally on the bed and if the Asset moved any further back he would fall right off the edge, so Casey pulled him up a little farther, more onto him then he was actually comfortable with, but it kept Bartowski from falling ass first onto the floor.

Back when he had a wife, when he was just Alex more human less of a killer, Casey remembered how he had comforted her when she had broken her arm during that skiing trip in the mountains and tried to apply that knowledge to his current situation. First he needed to pull Chuck's mind away from the pain and onto something else, mainly him. Moving his hands, John gently cupped the Asset's face and sighed in relief when he saw hazel brown eyes open instead of the black and gold of the wolf.

Chuck jerked in his grip and he felt hands clench tightly into his plain black t-shirt, nails scraping his abs, as the Intersect's head tried to bury itself into his stomach. Air rushed out of his lungs in a whoosh leaving him slightly winded and a broken, "Chuck," pushed past his lips. It was less of a question and more of a statement then anything.

When he got no reply other then a tortured sob Casey gripped Chuck's face harder and forced his head back up. He was met with surprisingly little resistance and he repeated the Asset's name, both first and last, and then sighed as he was met again with no reply. It was as if the pain was blinding him to all else. He moved two fingers up onto Chuck's temples and applied a gentle pressure, well as gentle as Casey could, and moved them in small circular motions.

Chuck's eyes remained closed but after awhile the tension around them were eased and Casey moved his hands from the newly turned Werewolf's face and massaged the back of his neck with one hand while the other ran through the dark slightly curly hair, thumb pushing into the soft skin behind the ear. He could visibly see the muscles in the Asset's bare back relax and the dark head turned his stomach back into a pillow, this time though, the Major didn't stop him.

He chuckled loudly and little sadistically when he moved his hands back to the Nerd Herder's temples and received only what could be described as a moan of pleasure in return. It left him feeling slightly warm and he felt his softening cock twitch in response but he forced his body to behave. Chuck did not need him aroused right now; he needed to be reassured, not pressured.

"Casey," his name sounded chocked and cracked as they were pulled from a tortured throat. Chuck said his name like a question, as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening and held a hint of fear at the realization.

The Major shifted a little underneath the Asset, easing himself into a more comfortable position onto the bed as he grabbed the blanket that had fallen precariously low on the younger male's hips and pulled it back up onto his shoulders. It was a thin piece of cloth, too thin to be called a blanket and did little to keep the cold of the room at bay, but Casey didn't do it for the heat. Their shared body heat was enough to keep them warm, instead he did it in an uncharacteristic show of empathy and was sparring Chuck the awkwardness that lying with another man nude would produce.

Once the Major was comfortable again, he returned to running one hand through the younger man's hair while the other traced patterns over the fabric on his back. "Ca-Casey" he asked again and the Major shushed him gently.

"Go back to sleep Bartowski."

It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order, one that Charles Irving Bartowski was happy to follow. Closing his aching eyes, Chuck finally allowed himself to completely relax into the other's somewhat embrace. He didn't understand what was going on or why, but he did know that at the moment he was safe. He knew that Casey would explain everything in due time, but as the dark abyss of sleep started to overtake him, he wished desperately that the Major would tell him now. Chuck knew deep down that something huge had occurred and changed everything about the world as he knows it, he just couldn't figure out what it was.


	9. Another Pause, Another Sigh

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_The only substitute for good manners is fast reflexes."_

**Another Pause, Another Sigh**

A delicate white hand reached up, fingers caressed the paper before Sarah gently dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book with a definite snap as the plane began to land. It was almost noon by the time she reached Washington D.C. The three hour time difference not withstanding, it had been a very long flight and she was looking forward to a warm shower and a good eight hours of sleep. Her dreams of a quiet night though went up in flames as she exited the tiny government issued jet. A man stood on the tarmac awaiting her arrival.

Sighing softly to herself, Walker nodded a small thanks as the man opened the standard issued black SUV door for her and she took her seat. She remained silent as he entered the driver's seat and pulled out of the airport. Casey and Chuck would be getting up right about now, she wondered briefly on how his first transformation went and checked her cell phone for any missed texts. There were none.

The absence of communication worried her less then if she did have a message. No news was good news. If anything had gone wrong, Casey would have texted her immediately for an update on the situation. If nothing had happened…well, then he would text her when he got around to it.

The first time he had employed that strange backwards manner of communication annoyed her, but after a while she saw the advantage in it. Instead of informing someone when something is supposed too happen goes to plan and worrying about not receiving a call, Casey would only call if something didn't go to plan. That way nobody worried unnecessarily if someone missed their check in.

After staring blankly at her cell phone for several minutes, Sarah finally tucked it away in her coat pocket and continued to gaze vigilantly out the window and watched as the world went by. She had better get an update by tonight though, Casey's reasoning be damned.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

The cold sterile room of Castle's control center was not a place one would think to spare themselves the horrid fate of boredom, but alas that was Casey's location and purpose as a magazine on guns lay opened and unread upon the metal table. John's eyes were unfocused and glazed over as he lost himself in thought.

It was going on four o'clock in the afternoon, and Chuck had yet to awaken again. Doctor Lee had informed him on how active or more specifically inactive Chuck would be for the next few days, but still this was ridiculous. That nerd had been sleeping for the last four days, and he was still in the land of slumber and Casey envied him, just a little.

His mind wouldn't shut off; he just couldn't stop thinking about everything… about _it_. The transformation from nerdy tech specialist to lethal killing machine was, was… there was no words for what it was. It was horrible and painful, excruciating to watch, and agonizing to listen too, and yet, it was beautiful in its completion.

Sighing in frustration, John finally lost all patience and shoved himself away from the table. He made his way slowly to the containment room currently holding his Idiot. The door was closed but not locked, though Casey would know the second it was opened. He needed not worry about Chuck trying to do anything in the next few days though; Doctor Lee had informed him that Bartowski wouldn't be up for doing anything until he recovered.

That didn't stop the Major from being overly cautious, after all paranoia had saved his life many times before. Besides, Chuck had never been one to follow any rules and Casey wouldn't put it past him to do the impossible and attempt an escape well before Doctor Lee's predicted recovery timetable. He at least hoped his Asset wouldn't attempt to make a run for the hills until the situation had been explained.

Casey sighed again. He knew that once Chuck was given all the facts, keeping him within Castle was going to be even harder then keeping him in the Goddamn car. He would try for denial first, play it off as some elaborate joke. After that he will probably scream for a while, yelling at Casey for lying. Then maybe he would move into the bargaining stage, try to reason out some sort of deal, probably with God since Casey could do jack shit about it. Then would come the depression, Chuck would most likely mope around for a bit. And after that, resignation and acceptance.

Casey wished that they could skip the other four stages of grief and move onto the last. He wasn't sure if he could handle an emotional Intersect right now, hell, he couldn't even manage his own emotions.

The Colonel took several steps into the holding cell but then forced himself to stop. He had already checked on Bartowski several times in the last hour and he knew nothing would have changed. Instead he turned and went back into the Operation Center while fishing his phone out of his pocket. Walker would be wanting an update anyway, and it wasn't like he had anything else to do.

Never before had he ever been so bored and yet wished desperately for nothing to happen. Nothing, right now, was a good thing. Nothing meant Chuck still had a chance of surviving this. Nothing meant that every day with every passing hour his chances of survival increased. Nothing meant he was safe and alive in the tiny holding cell. Nothing meant everything.

The other line rang only once before he heard a desperate, "Walker," over the phone. It seems like she was waiting for his call after all.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Sarah walked into her apartment room in a daze. Her meeting with General Beckman had been short and to the point. Desk duty, she had told her, they were putting her on desk duty filling out paper work until further notice. The assignment should have stung, should have left her angry and pissed, ready to show exactly why she should not be on desk duty. Instead it left her feeling hollow and tired. Maybe this was a good thing.

She had barely set her purse down when her phone rang. Snatching it out of the bag with reflexes only a field operative such as herself could accomplished she barely glanced at the caller before answering hurriedly. A slightly desperate, "Walker," flew out of her lips before she could force the emotionless mask of a spy into place.

"He's fine," Casey's gruff voice was met with a sigh of relief. One thing she could always count on with him was getting straight to the point.

She sagged into the chair by the desk and just breathed for several moments before she could bring herself to ask the question they both knew what was coming. "How was it?"  
Silence met her, she could hear Casey breathing over the line as he gathered his thoughts. The silence was more telling than anything Casey could have told her. It must have been very bad. "He survived it," his voice was strained as if he didn't want to continue, but despite that continue he did. "He was just…he couldn't," another pause followed by a gust of air at a long drawn out sigh. Casey was trying to get a lid on his emotions, just like she was. "He wouldn't stop screaming."

A tear fell from her eye as her lips quivered at the realization. It hurt to know that Chuck, her- no _their_- Asset was in agony and there was nothing they could do about it. She didn't say anything, she couldn't. Thankfully Casey filled the void, she just wished it was on a different topic.

"It lasted for hours, I couldn't watch," a shallow gasp followed by more tears. It must have been something quite awful if not even Colonel Casey could watch. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like to witness such an event. "And he just kept screaming," suddenly desk duty didn't look so bad.

"What," was that her voice that just cracked. Swallowing dryly, she tried again. "What was _it_ like?"

More silence, another sigh. "He was beautiful."

It should have made her feel better. It didn't. "Almost eleven feet, black fur, gold eyes. No deformities. Quite a temper though," a snort followed by more gruff words laced with pain. "Idiot tried to bite me."

Sarah felt a chuckle push past her lips, if it was filled with the beginnings of hysteria then Casey was kind enough not to comment. "Nothing else interesting after that," another pause, another sigh. "He was out like a light during the change back."

She heard more in that sentence than any other. She could hear the pride of their Asset's survival, the satisfaction that the Intersect was strong enough to get through this, the relief of his unconsciousness. No more screaming.

"How is he doing?" No stutter, her voice didn't crack. Her superiors would be so proud.

Another pause, another sigh. Shifting was heard over the line as Casey most likely switched the cell to his other ear. "Sleeping."

Sleeping was good. Sleeping meant he was recovering, sleeping meant he was alive. Sarah sighed again, they still had two more days before they could rest easy on his survival. After that they just had to worry about Chuck's reaction. She trusted Casey though, she knew he would keep their Asset safe.

A few more words were followed by a brief goodbye and a promise of an update. She was glad, she didn't think she could handle the small talk. Placing the cell upon the desk she got up to take a shower. After that she would call Ellie like she promised and then maybe take a nap. She had never felt so tired.


	10. Watch Me Break

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

_"Don't follow in my footsteps, unless I'm running and looking back over my shoulder."_

**Watch Me Break**

He was screaming again. His voice, laced with agony, was bouncing off the sterile walls of what Casey used to consider his sanctuary. And Casey was doing _nothing_…couldn't do anything. Chuck had slept the entire day, only waking once for several minutes while the Major shoved some nutrients down his throat and some water. Idiot had fallen asleep mid chew.

Casey had been bored most of the day. There was simply nothing to do except break down the many guns in the impressive armory and clean them, but the NSA Agent could find little joy in it. Normally, oiling his weapons with a cloth and polishing barrels was Casey's idea of a relaxing weekend. But it was hard to relax and enjoy himself when he was counting the minutes until the sun set. It was a long wait…and yet not nearly long enough.

Chuck had remained in the blissful land of slumber. The only time he had woken up was after much prodding and shaking from Casey. He had opened his unfocused chocolate brown eyes long enough to deduce what the big guy wanted from him and then promptly fell back to sleep. If Casey hadn't been so distracted by the quickly approaching night fall, he would have felt bitter about being demoted to caregiver.

Just before sundown, Bartowski's fussing brought Casey into the small cell. He could see the pale chest slick with sweat as his body burned with fever. A normal human would have died quickly from their body temperature rising by ten degrees in under an hour, but the tiny doctor had told the Major that it was a common occurrence for the newly turned. She said that he should grow out of it in a couple of months and would probably feel nothing but a brief discomfort from the changing, as long as it wasn't on the full moon. _"Those,"_ Lee had said, _"are always painful."_

Casey had once again moved the Nerd Herder onto the cool cement floor, this time though he was very naked. That was something that the Major was _very_ careful to ignore as Bartowski curled into a fetal position. The NSA Handler joined the newly turned lycan on the floor and carded gun calloused hands through sweat damp curls. It seemed to have calmed him last time, and this time was no different. Chuck was still in pain, but now he was less vocal about it. That was, of course, until the sun set.

This time, Casey was going to watch. He had too. He owed Bartowski that much at least. He still found the shifting muscles under pallid skin quite nauseating, but he pushed aside his own discomfort. This transformation lasted 57 minutes less than the first, and Casey allowed himself to feel an iota of hope. His Asset was strong, he would get through this.

Clear blue eyes watched with morbid fascination as bones broke, twisted, and stretched underneath quickly darkening skin. He could see each vertebrae on the spine push against the skin as if it was about to burst out of his back, and then a gut retching squelch as it lengthened so _very_ slowly. His tailbone broke through skin and it took most of his willpower to keep from experiencing his dinner a second time.

Fingers bent backwards at a very familiar angle for the Major who had spent much of his career torturing others for information. Nails turned a midnight black as they hardened, lengthened, and then ended in claws. Toes breaking into a similar pattern as they were _pulled_ away from the heel as it was stretched up.

He could see veins and muscles building upon the exposed spine before skin started to form around it. That was quickly followed by fur. Casey watched as Chuck's chest seemed to tremble momentarily before ribs collapsed sideways into each other. Chest cavity started to reshape itself into a more oval like shape, sternum pushing out instead of flat, as his muscles started to bulge underneath the now black skin.

Chuck threw his head back in agony as his jaw started to push its way further and further out, his nasal cavity not far behind. Forehead flattening, ears shifting, eyes sinking, cheeks protruding, teeth lengthening; Casey was completely spell bound and could no longer turn away even if he wanted too. So much was happening, but it was happening so _slowly_.

His nightmares of the horrible screaming now had a picture to accompany it, and Casey suddenly wished he had remained ignorant to the sight. Only when it was finally over and the Wolf was panting in its exhaustion, did the Major realize he was shaking. It was just his hands, but not ever had he had that kind of reaction to anything. It took the NSA Agent several minutes to gather himself, luckily the Wolf was too distracted recuperating to even notice it had company. It took two tries for the Major to get too his feet, but by now he had the lycan's attention.

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Body trembling in exhaustion, the Wolf let the cool stone floor ease his overheated muscles. It was still so very weak, and that made it frustrated. How was it to hunt if it couldn't even stand? Great shuddering breaths filled newly reformed lungs as black gold eyes remained closed in phantom pains. Soon, soon his human would be able to handle the transformation, then it wouldn't leave them both so vulnerable.

A staccato gasp, heart thumping steadily, rubber clad feet shifting. The Wolf wasn't alone. A dark eyelid peeled back slowly, revealing the black void and golden ring that sat upon it. Lips peeled back onto the muzzle, large fangs in full view. A loud snarl, a low rumbling growl. It was _that_ human again, the one that made his human feel safe. The Wolf didn't like him.

This _Casey_ was there the first time he came out, when he had subdued the woman who reeked of danger and deception. The Wolf had given into the human's wishes because _his_ human was panicking and the other's scent brought a sense of peace to him. He was there again when he had awoken fully for the first time. His gruff voice and harsh words seemed familiar, and it could feel his human's reflex to reply.

The human had so easily dominated him last time, when he was as weak as a newborn pup still nursing from a bitch's teat, but not this time. This time it would rip out the infernal creature's voice box before his words could pacify him. Paws pushed against the floor, forelegs bulging in the effort to lift. The human was getting closer, sharp words flowing out of the gruff voice. The Wolf snarled, it would _not_ be pacified.

Torso lifting finally off of the blessedly cold floor, the Wolf immediately missed the sensation, hind legs floundering to find purchase so it could balance. They wouldn't move correctly and a whine flowed out of a long muzzle as his muscles began to shudder in exertion. If only it could get all four legs under, it would be so much easier.

A hand touched his shoulder, fingers digging not uncomfortably into the fur. When had the human gotten so close? A full blown snarl of anger and frustration, a half hearted snap in the human's general direction. His muscles were failing him, but he was _so_ close. Then he would show this human _he_ was Alpha. The hand applied pressure, gently, incessantly, and the Wolf collapsed back to the freezing concrete.

A gust of air escaped it, slightly winded from becoming reacquainted with the floor, followed by another snarl that ended high enough to be classified as a whine. Fingers shifted, now behind a large twitching ear, and they dug in to the fur behind it. A low groan, a shifting of an overly large body, _right there, just a little harder_. Exquisite pleasure as the deft fingers scratched in that perfect spot. Next time, the Wolf promised itself, next time it'll show the human who was Alpha.

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Casey had watched in fascination and complete disbelief as the Lycanthrope managed to lift half of its massive body, hind legs scrabbling for purchase. It was impossible. Doctor Lee had stated quite matter-of-factly that Bartowski would be in a sort of vegetated state for a full four transformations, and here he was almost standing after two.

The Major snorted softly to himself as he slowly stood. He should have known better then to apply the average to anything involving Charles Irving Bartowski, everything that kid did was abnormal. A brief flash of what Casey would later deny was fear, shot down his spine and constricted his heart as he watched the beautiful _deadly_ creature start to rise.

He quickly stamped that emotion down, shot it full of holes, threw a grenade at it, and then locked it away before demolishing the site. Fear was the last thing he needed. And it would seem that it was completely unnecessary as well. "What's the matter, Bartowski? Can't figure out how your legs work?"

A snarl met his biting words and Casey just chuckled back as he approached the quickly exhausting creature. "Lay back down before you hurt yourself, you Moron."

He got no reply this time as it seemed Bartowski was far too distracted. Casey cocked an eyebrow. The not-so-little bastard was quite stubborn, and he admired him for it, but something would have to be done soon before the clumsy idiot ended up breaking something. Casey just hoped that that something wasn't him.

It seemed as though the Wolf didn't even notice his approach, and only gained its attention once he had placed a hand on the shoulder that was eye level with the tall Agent. My God, he was _huge_. He didn't seem so large last time when he was stretched upon the cement floor, but now standing next to him made Casey realize that if the Wolf attacked him, there was really nothing he could do about it.

A loud snarl met his advances, and Casey almost laughed at the attempted bite. Hell, he wouldn't even call it an attempt. The large maw was still several feet away from him before the teeth clanked loudly together. It was as if it wasn't even trying. He applied pressure to the shoulder gently, pushing down to get the creature to lower itself to the ground. The Major was honestly not expecting it to just collapse.

Wincing in sympathy, because the resounding thud of body meeting cement sounded painful, Casey started to scratch behind the Wolf's right ear in a pseudo apology. He was also not expecting the lycan to melt at his ministrations. He saw a hind leg twitch sporadically as he continued to scratch what must have been the perfect spot as the Wolf groaned in pleasure. He stopped momentarily in the complete oddness of it, and that was met with another snarl. Chuckling again Casey joined the lycan on the floor and continued the domestic action while he prepared himself for a long night.


	11. In the Dark, Out of the Picture

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday."_

**In the Dark, Out of the Picture**

Casey was tired, so very tired, but he pushed the fatigue aside and straightened his stance as the General took in his haggard form. His face was supporting nearly a week's worth of beard growth since he hadn't yet been able to shave, and his eyes were bloodshot and drooping. But he refused to let that bother him.

"How is he doing, Major?"

The NSA Agent ignored the unprofessional worry that tinged his superior officer's voice and instead started to lay down the facts like a good little soldier. His information was clinical, stating exact facts and times, but leaving out his reaction, leaving out his emotions. He was still too raw to even contemplate on what he was feeling.

Beckman made notes on a pale yellow notebook, her whole demeanor portraying clinical interest, but her eyes were hollow, like a worried mother in the hospital. Casey kept it simple, kept the facts brief, and refused to acknowledge how his voice _nearly_ broke on more than one occasion.

"You will keep me apprised of any developments, of course," Beckman waited for the small nod of agreement before she capped her far too expensive ballpoint pen and leaned heavily on her elbows. "Major…John," her tone changed from superior to friend and it put Casey on edge. "How are you doing?"

She asked as if it was simple question, but both knew it was anything but. Casey stood stock still, lips pursed in an unreadable expression as he thought upon how to answer her to her satisfaction. But the truth was he just didn't know. He didn't know how he was dealing with the developments, didn't know what he was feeling about his Asset's change, didn't understand why his chest constricted painfully as every minute ticked by, closer and closer to sundown.

He crossed and uncrossed his arms several times before he settled on a dismissive grunt, a lifting of one shoulder in a semi shrug, and an almost imperceptible shake of his head. The General just nodded her head in understanding, eyes flicking to her notes before she pulled the topic back to Bartowski and away from one of her favorite Agents.

"I want to speak with him when he is able."  
Casey was nodding his head before she even finished the sentence. He understood and was expecting such an order long before she gave it. "Now that were settling, what is our next course of action?"

By settling, he meant the routine. The sun would go down, Chuck would scream and cry and _change_. Casey would try his best not to get eaten while he waited for the sun to rise. Chuck would change back, and then sleep the rest of the day away. "Bartowski," she paused, took a deep breath and then started again. "Bartowski is your _only_ priority. Make him comfortable, try to listen and be accommodating. I don't think we should inform him of the new developments, best keep him in the dark for the time being. He should be easier to control with Walker out of the picture."

Casey grunted in agreement. "How is Walker settling in?"

The General gave him a disapproving glare. The question would have been a curious inquiry from one co-worker about another, if it wasn't Casey, that is. The way he stated the question was slightly sarcastic and borderline mocking. Beckman did not deem him with an answer.

"You best be on your way, Major. It is almost sundown."

O0O~O0O~Page~Break~O0O~O0O

Chuck awoke to the sound of hushed voices, eyelids peeling back slowly to greet the day. He was lying face down on what could not be quite classified as a bed, a spring digging uncomfortably into his hip. Starch linen sheets were kicked to the floor, the cold circulated air in the room informed him of the lack of clothing, nudity becoming too familiar in this repeating scenario. The only thing missing was Casey.

It took a long time for his eyes to focus, vision blurred as a cacophony of drums echoed inside his skull. Cold, grey metal walls, one made of glass furthest away, door sealed. The key pad was illuminated in red…locked. He recognized the room though, and for that he was thankful. He was in Castle.

Slowly, arms moved to brace the large, too skinny, frame as Chuck attempted to sit up. It took him four tries and an unaccounted amount of time. Muscles loose and weak, sore as if he had suddenly decided to participate in Casey's physical conditioning he attended the _once_. A hand scrubbed at his face, ridding him of the unbidden and unwanted tears as he willed understanding only to have confusion settle in his mind.

His eyes landed upon a pair of dark grey sweatpants resting on the floor. They were laying in such a way as to suggest they had once been folded and set upon the end of the bed. No shirt sat next to it, but as he pulled his abused and battered body to the edge of the bed and started to dress, he didn't think he would have been able to put one on if it had been present.

Stomach muscles cramped and spasmed as he bent over, whatever had happened to him must have put him through the ringer. Arm reaching for the bland sweats, a flash of white in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A bandage was wrapped tightly around his left shoulder; pupils dilating, nostrils flaring as dried blood and _other_ assaulted his senses. The strange sensation left him reeling and his closed his eyes tightly before he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Trembling fingers peeled back the white bandage and Chuck gazed at the scabbed over wound with disgust, curiosity, and disbelief. The wound looked like an animal had mauled him, and quite a while ago if the state of healing was anything to go by. Replacing the bandage Chuck tried to ignore what that meant. Just how long had he been out?

He remembered going on a mission with Casey and Sarah, something involving myth or lore, whatever it was the thought was fleeting. Chuck remembered Casey grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him until he was on the edge of his seat, half his body in the front of the car, middle console digging painfully into his stomach. Sarah slammed the passenger side of the door closed, walking away a few paces…waiting. Casey's face was pressed tight, lips sealed thinly, annoyance prominent in his brow, the curve of his mouth though implied worry. Not that the Major would ever admit it and Chuck would never mention it for fear of pain and death. "Stay _in_ the fucking car."

But he hadn't, he remembered that much. A feeling of trepidation had overtaken him; Casey and Sarah were taking too long. Thoughts of death, blood, glowing yellow eyes, and razor sharp teeth were reeling in his mind. He remembered grabbing the door handle; the cold metal biting into his skin as he debated with himself, warm summer air wrapping around him as he settled on his decision. He remembered the moon, no longer full, and then nothing.

It seemed to take hours to pull the sweats up his narrow frame. They were a little large and hung quite low on his hips, but as a wave of vertigo overtook him it was pushed to the back of his mind. His quads trembled as his legs tried to support his weight, the floor rocking underneath him like he was a drunken sailor.

When Chuck made it across the room he collapsed against the glass wall and just breathed as his chest heaved and his body protested. Vision blurring from fatigue, a shaking hand entered the seven digit master code to unlock the door. Casey and Sarah had no idea that he had read the entire manual to the Secret Government Operation Center that is known as Castle when he found the rare case of whimsy had stricken him.

He was thankful for that now. Chuck had no idea why they had sealed him alone in the cell, but he was damned sure going to find out. And no way in hell was he waiting around to be released.

The door opened with a near silent hiss and his triumphant feeling of victory was crushed when he pulled himself into the hallway. It seemed suspiciously longer than normal, but Chuck was sure that it was the pain and fatigue talking. His shoulder throbbed in time with his head as he mustered what little strength he had left and started his long, arduous journey down the corridor.

The hallway was cold, his bare feet freezing on the cement. The metal wall he was using for support sapped what little body heat he had remaining and in no time he was shivering like it was winter, sweating like it was summer, and breathing like he had just ran a marathon. A feeling of anxiousness was taking over him and he had to remind his body how to walk on more than one occasion.

He knew he was going in the right direction when he heard the hushed voices getting louder. The hall spilled out into the Briefing Room and Chuck paused just before the threshold, panting brokenly as his body once again protested any and all movement. Nausea started to settle as his stomach rebelled as well.

Leaning heavily against the wall, Chuck was able to make out what was being said. He heard Casey talking; his gruff voice tinged with annoyance was soothing somehow, and Chuck found himself subconsciously relaxing as his eyes closed and his breathing became easier. "- the next course of action?"

The smell of cinnamon, gunpowder, and clover surrounded him and he had the sudden urge nearly overtake him…he wanted to be near Casey, but he resisted. His body was far too exhausted and strange feeling left him confused. Instead he tried to focus his mind on what was being said. And yet another thing was pushed to the back of his mind to be thought upon later…much, much later.

"Bartowski," Chuck heard General Beckman chime in, her no nonsense tone catching his interest as his body tried to jump to attention. Try being the operative word. He forced himself back to reality when he realized he missed half of what the General had said. "- best keep him in the dark for the time being. He should be easier to handle now that Walker is out of the picture."

Breath caught in his lungs, the Nerd Herder nearly choked and gave up his position as terror seized him. What did she mean easier to handle…where was Sarah? Peering around the corner, he was surprised to see only Casey, the General's face on the screen, and no Sarah. Where was she? What happened?

His heart thudded painfully in his chest as his body was flooded with adrenaline. Something horrible had happened…was happening. What did they do to his CIA handler? They must have gotten rid of her…but why? He needed to get out, retreat, find safe ground and hunker down until he could put the pieces together. He needed to find Sarah.

It seemed like no time had passed, but he was in a different corridor, the Briefing Room far behind him. He passed an unused office, no chair in sight, computer offline, probably not even plugged in. But what caught his eye was the phone. Chuck stumbled into the room and nearly tripped over his own lethargic feet as he all but lunged for the black object.

Pulling the phone from the base he started to rapidly dial the long ago memorized phone number of his fake-not-so-fake girlfriend. He wasn't even halfway through dialing when he realized he didn't even get a dial tone. Pounding on a few more buttons he listened intently…nothing. The line was disconnected, no not disconnected…gone. The phone wasn't getting any power. Turning to the computer he saw the same thing.

Panic started to seize him once again. Whoever had done this had done it with intent. Somebody didn't want him contacting the outside world. His stomach protested with a vengeance and Chuck leaned most of his body weight against the desk as he swallowed down the bile. His form shook as anger started to overtake him, body flushing in fury and heat. He was beyond furious, never before had he been so angry…and it scared him.

Left hand gripping his torso, body shaking and _hurting_, Chuck grabbed the phone along with its base and threw it at the wall without looking. He didn't notice when it never hit the floor, imbedded as it was in the metal, because pain wracked his body of the likes he had never felt before. Legs gave out from underneath him, and he collapsed onto the dark blue carpet. Then all he knew was darkness.


	12. Crumble

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_The trouble with life is that there's no background music."_

**Crumble**

It was dark and there was hardly any light. Sarah could only make out vague shapes in the darkness. She was standing on a hard ground, cold metal against her back. Suddenly the ground was gone and she couldn't breathe. Something was choking her, cutting off her air way.

Panic set in, Sarah kicked and clawed at the thing holding her neck. Her hands met hot skin, hotter than she ever knew was possible, and she dug her nails in. But the grip was like iron and she couldn't remove the constricting force around her throat.

Desperately, her vision blurring, she tried to find the face of the thing that had trapped her. She saw only darkness and then gold eyes in the black. Her lungs burned as the fight left her and she could feel death creeping closer and closer. Just before the Reaper claimed her, she gazed back into those pale gold eyes full of hate and saw Chuck's face.

Sarah Walker awoke from her nightmare, gasping as her lungs burned with the phantom pain. Sweat soaked her night shirt and her hand lightly grabbed her neck where the dream Chuck had choked her. It was tender and still bruised from when the real Chuck had strangled her. Tears burned her eyes as she gazed out into the dark night. She didn't get any more sleep that night.

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Chuck pulled his feet off of the cold cement floor, curling them in instead to sit indian style on the equally cold chair. He had another pair of washed out grey sweats on but still chose to go shirtless. His muscles ached like he had participated in a grueling work out that he didn't remember doing. Bare forearms rested on the metal table, a cup of what could be considered hot chocolate cradled in his hands. It comforted him more with its heat then its taste.

He could see Casey pacing back and forth from the corner of his eye, limping slightly and a fresh bandage wrapped around his bicep. The side of his face was bruised and lip cut but was no longer bleeding. Chuck briefly thought upon the fight that had caused those injuries but that only brought upon flashes of disjointed images and impressions.

A frown crossed his features as he shivered from the cold. He remembered Casey and General Beckman talking, feeling fear as he imagined what they had done to Sarah. Then there was running, hiding, and then anger…at something/someone. His next clear memory was of waking up in the small containment room, door closed but not locked, clothes folded on the end of the bed, and being once again naked.

He had dressed slowly, quicker than the time before, but still it took him a while to get the pants on. A crisp white t-shirt was present, but Chuck didn't even bother with it. He had wandered down to the command center and found Casey sitting at the table, attempting to wrap his arm in gauze. Chuck had been swept in vertigo as his eyes narrowed upon the injury and he could actually smell the blood as it leaked sluggishly through the bandage. It took Casey's blunt question to get him to snap out of it. He hadn't even been aware that he had crossed the room and was standing almost within touching distance of the big man. A distance that Chuck was more than happy to expand.

It took several more minutes of Casey struggling one handed with the bandages before Chuck could muck up the courage to assist him. Casey would never say it out loud but he was thankful. Deft hands had quickly finished wrapping the wound and then Chuck all but scrambled out of the man's personal space. That was nearly an hour ago.

Casey continued to pace, occasional glancing at Chuck who looked tired, but was still surprisingly awake. Sighing loudly, John shook off the trepidation that he felt and decided to just get it over with. Beckman wanted the Asset in the dark about the whole wolf thing, but they needed to build trust and lying to him was not going to do that. The General could yell at him later.

Grabbing the chair across from the nerd, Casey sat down heavily, resting his leg that had gotten banged up, thigh burning from where the wolf had got him. Thankfully that wound had been cleaned and wrapped and his pants were back on long before Chuck came to investigate.

He needed to start off gentle if he wanted to avoid a repeat of last night. Chuck's brown eyes glanced up nervously before he started to pick at his trousers with avid interest. Shaking his head in annoyance and amusement, Casey grunted to get his attention. "How'd you get out of the cell?"

Chuck glanced back up at him when his voice snapped the question. He seemed anxious and embarrassed. Casey watched as Bartowski tried to form an answer that wouldn't get him into trouble. "Don't fucking lie to me, Bartowski."

The nerd swallowed nervously before mumbling something along the lines of a master code. Casey sighed softly, scrubbing his hand down his face in exhaustion and annoyance. He should have remembered the master override. He just couldn't believe that Bartowski actually knew it. In any case, after their discussion, Casey was going to erase the code from the system. John didn't even want to imagine what would have happened if Chuck had made it to the exit before the change had been upon him.

"Casey?" A hesitant voice asked, pulling the Major from his thoughts. Casey glanced at the Asset, but didn't make direct eye contact; giving silent permission for Chuck to continue. After years of working with him, Chuck was able to puzzle out a lot of his non-speak. Like now, for instance, if Casey had ignored him that would say that he would tolerate the question but might not directly listen to it. If he had held eye contact that would have meant leave him alone. The flicker of a gaze in the general direction of his person meant that he was willing to listen.

"What happened?"

The Marine took a moment to gather his thoughts before he answered. "What do you remember?"

Chuck's face screwed up in thought. "I remember you telling me to stay in the car—"

He was cut off as Casey growled at him. "You remember disobeying me?" Swallowing thickly, Chuck's gaze was riveted on the metal table as he nodded his head in confirmation. "Anything else," at his negative gesture Casey sighed again. "Walker and I left you in the truck, and entered the warehouse containing the illegal documents of the drug lord, De la Vega at nineteen hundred hours and twenty seven minutes." When Chuck nodded his head in understanding, Casey continued. "We had been inside for no more than twenty minutes when De la Vega discovered us."

Casey paused here, uncertain. "He was a werewolf, Chuck."

And then Chuck remembered the discussion before, Casey giving them the Lycan 101 speech. He remembered his fascination with the fact that werewolves did indeed exist, and was enamored with the idea of a Bonding. Chuck remembered feeling apprehensive as Sarah and Casey didn't return in the allotted time. And then he remembered yellow teeth, beady eyes, fear, and then pain.

"Casey…" his voice shook.

"You were bitten," Casey replied to the unasked question. "Fucker nearly tore off your arm at the shoulder." He watched as Chuck reached up to the wound, unbound and still swollen, but scabbed and no longer bleeding. "That was five days ago."

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Chuck's world seemed to halt as the words processed. His shoulder was sore from where the werewolf had decided to take a bite out of him, but the wound was at least several weeks old, not five days. Clearly Casey was wrong in his estimation of time, maybe he had been injured too.

But then Chuck recalled what he had been told. Lycanthropes had excelled healing, and suddenly that feeling in the back of his mind made sense. His mind started to put the connections together quicker than he was willing to process them. His ability to smell Casey's scent and his blood, the constant rumble in his mind, the other emotions not his. Oh, God!

Casey watched closely as Chuck put the pieces together, his face losing color as it finally clicked. "_No_," Chuck whispered, and then Casey was there, holding him as he came to the reality of his situation.

"Bartowski, listen to me," Casey began, but Chuck wasn't hearing him. He was shaking and trembling with great sobs and the Major could feel his shirt getting wet as Chuck cried into it.

"No, please," the broken plea begged, and Casey could do nothing but hold the smaller man to him as hands fisted into his shirt. "_Casey, please!_"

"I'm sorry, Chuck," John whispered as the man broke apart in his arms. Chuck pleaded with Casey, begging for him to make it untrue, take it back, to cure him. But there was no cure; there was nothing he could do for him except hold the smaller male as his world crumbled around him.


End file.
