An offer you can't resist.

Who: Doc and Frank
When: Late evening
Where: Streets of Marquette

It never took long for snow to get muddy, not with cars everywhere. Even in a small town like Marquette most of the roads were covered in brown slosh in a matter of hours and that was all Frank really saw when he drove through. There was plenty of white and untouched if one looked in the right places but the mud and the inconvenience of it all stood out to him and he was vaguely aware of this with some bemusement at his pessimism. He was out late, just driving slow and easy through town, around the parks - keeping his eyes peeled for anything abnormal. He'd probably have more luck on foot but something about Dylan's fear had gotten to him so he stayed in the car for now. It was warm and he had his Irish Coffee (no sugar, hold the cream) in a thermos next to him, taking comfort in it ever so often. It was quiet out but that told him nothing. Many quiet nights had been interrupted with sheer madness for unsuspecting victims and a hunter knew how fast things could go sour. Of course nothing might happen at all but it still helped to be out and about, if only to make sure nobody was walking home alone or doing something equally stupid.

By now, Doc was getting a schedule down. He would work the forge by daylight, pause for dinner with the kids, sometimes end up halfway across the world in the name of War, then come home. Inevitably he would fire up the furnace again, working fire and steel until it became late enough that hammer blows or bellows and heat would rouse suspicions. And when that happened? Well, as a sleepless being, Doc would walk. For all the unseen terrors that lurked in town, he found the night streets soothing on some level. It was a combination of solitude and open spaces, eagerness at what was around each corner and the constant satisfaction of a fresh smoke or another bad cup of coffee from a gas station. It was, in some sense, a security blanket to soothe his nostalgia for the road that sometimes crept up. And he was indulging it tonight, no doubt about it. The coffee was in hand, the cigarette dangled from his lips as Doc stepped from a curb and over muddy slush, moving across the street at a lazy pace as headlights washed over him. He squinted curiously at the car, smiling to himself. It was too late for it to be bar traffic, too early for a morning worker.

Frank slowed down which put him closer to walking speed since he was already just trailing along. He peered at the person in front of the car and then let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. It wasn't a weird coincidence in his mind to run into Doc again. Two hunters in a small town - they were bound to be roaming the same territories, but it was still a pleasant surprise to see him there; roaming the same territories didn't mean guaranteed run-ins. He drove up next to him and slowed to a stop, rolling down the window. "Eric Martens, in the flesh," he muttered. "Getting your shoes muddy and your gun warm. Guess that animal attack has every hunter out and about, huh?"

Doc laughed slightly at that, shoulders shrugging as he fixed an easy grin on Frank. "I just love bad coffee," he replied, "Or hate my intestines. One of the two." Yeah, he'd seen the news, and he didn't think for a second that it was wild animals. But he was in no position to do anything about it. The best he could hope for was sharing information with other hunters, arming the kids, and praying for the best. But a run-in with Frank? It was always a welcome break in whatever he was doing. "That what you're up to?" he asked, leaning an arm across the roof of Frank's car, "Trying to pick up a trail?" It wasn't a surprise; Frank seemed to live more when in pursuit or dealing death than he did in any sort of 'normal' life.

"I'd have to be on foot to pick up any trail," Frank said wryly, unlocking the doors with a flick of a button. Yeah it stung a bit, feeling like he was taking orders from a kid by not walking around, but in a way it was nice to be inside in the warmth and not out there trudging around in the snow. "Hop on in, have some good coffee for a change. I guess you could say I'm paroling the streets, me and the black brew of the Irish." He patted the thermos with a soft sigh, wondering if he'd brought that extra cup with him or if it even mattered.

"Don't mind if I do," Doc told him with a nod, rounding the front of the car and hopping into the passenger's seat. He swung the door shut, uncapping his styrofoam cup and holding it out for a refill. Doc drank it black as well, and any mix could only improve it. "I think you'll notice that after a little time here, the cold doesn't get so bad. Not for another few weeks, at least," he half-joked, half-warned. "So... what've you got thusfar? I've been busy with some other things, but from what I'm getting out of the papers, I'm thinking maybe a shifter's to blame. Anything you've found to corroborate?"

"Not a damn thing," Frank muttered and thought about it for a moment, brows furrowed and his mind far away even as he poured coffee for them both and drank some. "I don't know if you remember Jade and Amber," he finally said and he needed a cigarette for this one so he fished out his pack of Camel and took his time in getting a cigarette out, tapping it against the wheel and lighting it.

Taking a swig of his fresh cup, Doc blinked a little at the potent hint of whiskey in there and nodded. Whatever it takes to get through a night, he mused, knowing how it went. "I remember," Doc said plainly, musing on his few encounters with the women, back in the days where he and Frank would find each other in different states each time, always on the job. "This... this have something to do with them, Frank?" he asked carefully, considering what he knew. Frank had two sons now, he'd been close to Jade in the past, but there was no word of her being here now...

"There was a fiend," Frank said coolly. "Three months ago in California." He rubbed his face idly and then drank more. "I don't think that's it, not with the fact the man survived but you can never be too sure." A part of this was Dylan, Frank didn't think it was the damn fiend, he didn't think it would come after Dylan so this was Dylan's fear talking but it was the not knowing that gave him pause, kept him from dismissing it completely. "I think I like your theory better," he concluded, starting up a slow drive down the street again.

"No, you never can," Doc agreed with a grim nod, not needing specifics about what had happened out west. "Wouldn't be the first time something like that was drawn here. So it's worth keeping in consideration." If it was a fiend? That made this personal for Frank, and getting personal all too often meant getting reckless. "I'll see if anyone in the area has intel I don't," he offered with a drink of coffee, following Frank's lead and lighting a fresh smoke, "Maybe call out to California, see if I can get a reader to try and pick up anything else." That was definitely a positive in careers as long as either of theirs; you knew plenty of people, and a lot of them ended up owing favors.

It was personal and if it wasn't for Dylan, Frank would probably be stalking the park by himself just taunting the damn thing to come out. As it was he was wary and uncertain. If it was the fiend it might go after Dylan and Frank wouldn't be any help if he was reckless about this. "The trail went cold back there," he told Doc. "We don't know why it went for her, think it might be related to a fiend we took down years ago. Hell, close to twenty years so it seems a little farfetched." Where did time go? Had it really been that long? The only reason he was certain it had was because Dylan hadn't been born. The mind boggled. "Any info would be appreciated."

"If the trail's three months old, it'll take some time," Doc warned, already musing on who he could call to head out that way, "But I'll do what I can. And twenty years isn't so much, Frank. Some of these things live for centuries... plenty of time to hold a grudge." He knew that for sure, had dealt with ancient vampires in the past who simply waited to be forgotten, then struck at those who had insulted them. "You should've called," he chided with a friendly enough smile, "Then and now. However we both work, a job like this is better with a second set of eyes." And with kids in the equation, Doc was one of the first supporters of the safest possible hunting someone could do. Which meant help.

"I only just found out," Frank muttered tiredly, the whole thing with Dylan and what he'd seen wearing him down. "A little over a week ago," which he supposed was entirely his fault for not keeping Amber in the loop on how to reach him. Jade had known but she'd obviously kept it secret even from her own sister. Jade and her damn secrets, Frank wasn't sure at the moment which felt worse - the grief for her or the anger at all the things she hadn't shared with her family. Things that might even have kept her safe if she hadn't denied them from her life.

"Well, make sure you call if you find out more. I'll do the same," Doc insisted with a slurp of coffee, eying Frank critically. The town was quiet, the road they were on was secluded, now was probably a good time to bring up equally pressing issues. "I want to talk to you about a few things, Frank," he began innocently enough, lounging in his seat and musing on just how to bring this up.

Frank's mind was still lingering in dark places, all those times he'd talked to Jade, insisting she be more careful, tell her son the truth if only so she could better secure herself and him. How her masquerade as a mundane homemaker was a dangerous one for a woman with her past, how he should have been more insistent when he told her she couldn't just choose to stop hunting - it wasn't a profession she could abandon completely. She'd always read into his words wrong or not listen, if he had only been more insistent... And then Doc changed the subject or took the subject down another road and Frank glanced at him, jolted back to the here and now. "Give it your best," he muttered. "Now is as good a time as any."

"Okay, just bear with me if I seem like I'm rambling," Doc warned, cracking his window a little further and lighting a new smoke. "If I had to guess, I'd say you don't ever plan on giving up the hunt. You're going to do it until you just don't come back, or you get arrested," he began, watching Frank critically, "But don't you ever want it to add up to more? I mean... what we did, back in the day? It was always a response, a treatment for a problem that had already happened. And it was patchwork, Frank. The only time guys like us have a pattern to our work is if we can't catch the source the first time around." He took a long drag, watching the exhaled smoke curl over the edge of the window. "So what if I said there was a way to make it add up to more than a little payout and a few new scars for every job?"

Frank gave him a skeptical look, mulling that over. It didn't sound like rambling though it did sound like a lot of what ifs sprinkled with salesmanship. If he didn't already know Doc and like the guy, he'd have halfway expected there to be a product involved. Herbal life for the average hunter or a magic GPS that would lead to anything with bad intentions. Salesmanship or not he wasn't sure where Doc was taking this or if he was going to like it. "I'd say it sounds like there's a catch," he finally replied, curious but wary.

Doc laughed faintly, nodding in confirmation. "You'd be right, but there's always a catch," he agreed, rolling his head and popping his neck. "It's more of a grey area than we're used to, but there's enough reason to it for it to be necessary. I'm talking about a universal concept applied to our local existences. I'm talking about the Balance, Frank. There's a way to see more of the playing field, to shape it and nudge it forward accordingly, to see the big threats before they hit instead of coming in to just clean up the mess. Problem is, this place is volatile enough that it's not easy on my own, or even with a little help." He looked over, grey eyes narrowing intently on Frank as he puffed his smoke. "I think I could use the help, I know you're good... and I figured maybe you could use the focus."

Frank furrowed his brows, stubbing out his cigarette before lighting another. Heavy conversations about The Balance and Grey Areas required more nicotine, that was for certain. "The balance," he muttered. "Too much of a good thing and necessary evil?" That was a road a hunter too often found himself on, messing up good things for the greater good, for ethical reasons, deciding when to let things slide and when to come down full force like an avenging angel. "The world is one big grey area, it just comes in many shades. Some could pass for black or white but it rarely is. Time to get the shroud off, Eric. Vague ideas don't tell me much."

"Okay," Doc agreed slowly, nodding his head and shifting in his seat to give Frank a clear look at his expression. In their field of work, body language and the eyes said just as much as what a person said, and he wanted Alden to see his honesty. "I know you heard stories about me now and then, things about how I had to be more than human to keep on surviving? Well... they're true, Frank. I'm a lot more. And in spite of that, I'm no more of a danger to you or your boys than I've ever been." He smiled faintly, swirling his coffee in the cup and raising it for a drink. "I... tend the balance. Here, Austin, New Orleans, the whole damn world. And when I'm covering everywhere else, I can't watch this place as closely as I like. So when we get a crisis, I need people I can trust to get things done."

It was a bit of a punch in the face to hear this, Frank would be lying if he denied that. His expression got heavier, though not necessarily darker, and he eased the car up on the nearest curb, parking for now as he didn't quite trust himself to keep driving. As usual that was the biggest reaction Doc was going to get out of him, a deeper frown than usual and he glared out through the window for a few long moments as he took all that information in. He knew there was far more out there than the things they hunted, he'd been doing this for far too long to turn a blind eye to that fact. Things nobody had names for or even vague ideas of for that matter, things that made demons and angels themselves quake where they stood. But to think Doc wasn't human... It was both so outlandish and yet so blatantly obvious now that he thought about it or at least it felt that way to him. He didn't for a second think Doc was a threat to him. If he wanted him dead or suffering he would have done it back when it still mattered to him. What was the fun in breaking something so infinitely damaged? When he finally spoke he said only two words, not committing to anything or asking anything, just two quiet and slowly spoken words: "Keep talking."

Progress was progress, and Doc was hopeful to keep that trend going as he nodded, grabbing Frank's thermos to pour himself more coffee. "There's a higher power out there," he explained with a nod towards the dark of night hanging around them beyond the car, "It has a vested interest in this world. To keep it going, there's a juggling act. No one wins, and we all get to stay alive." It was a tough concept to sell, given how many good hunters died for the idea of a world without the supernatural menace that existed. "So sometimes I hang back, wait for the bad stuff to happen because it has to. But for the people I ask to help? I just need sharp eyes and a willingness to act when the time is right. I need people who know how loss feels, and who are ready to do whatever they have to to keep it from plaguing the whole damn world."

Frank didn't need to be told there was a higher power, he knew it in his heart. It might not be God but there was something though he usually referred to it as God, being of the Catholic persuasion and all. It wasn't a matter of faith, he had seen first hand what holy weapons could do that normal non-blessed weapons couldn't and so everything Doc was saying whatever trouble he might have with it, believing it wasn't one. There were things he could ask but he didn't feel the need. Doc had already said he wouldn't be a threat to his boys so that ruled out this putting them in danger, that was his only real pressing concern - everything else didn't quite matter. "You know my moral conduct," he said, finally looking directly at Doc, studying him for a moment. He looked the same and nothing about his body language suggested foul play though Frank was more than ready to deal with that if it came to it. "That wouldn't change."

"I wouldn't expect it to," Doc assured him with a nod. "Samuel Colt had a lesser-known brother, a pretty successful officer in the military. He was quoted as saying an officer should never ask a soldier to do something they're not willing to do themselves. So if you agreed and something rough came up? I wouldn't expect you to cross your own lines. And you wouldn't be working alone either, when it comes to the jobs I'd have for you." Kurt would probably be a good partner for Frank; both men were sparsely worded, and Kurt's personal atonement might give Frank some insight Doc himself couldn't offer. "If it sounds like too much, or ever becomes a burden you can't handle, you're free and clear."

Frank gave a low, dry laugh - a brief one at that - and shook his head slowly. "I'm waiting for the catch, Eric. Is that even your real name?" What else didn't he know about the man? Not human but a keeper of balance, something else. Though fantastical beings tended to have names just like that. Eric, Martin, Joe... One rarely ran into someone with a name like Azaphateus or whatever long fantasy sounding name people could come up with. It was usually something more mundane and every day.

Doc laughed with him, cheeks bunching in amusement as he nodded. "Yeah, it's my real name," he reassured Frank, his smile dimming. "The catch? Well, it hasn't been a problem yet, but someday it could be. For all the neutrality I try to work towards? I'm a demon in the eyes of the universe, Frank. As far as the angels are concerned, me and mine aren't their friends. So if you help, you run that risk too..." He trailed for a second, deciding that he'd told Frank enough by now to let the last crucial details out. "Eric's my real name, but I have another. They call me War."

This was about the strangest encounter Frank had ever had and coming from an old hunter that was saying a lot. War. What did one say to that? Such a gigantic concept and here it was, sitting in his car as a familiar face telling him angels didn't like him. Something that would at one point have been a deal breaker but right now Frank couldn't muster up enough care for it to matter. "Things will keep on as usual save for a possible phonecall when all hell is about to break loose." There was a question there, though he didn't phrase it or say it as such.

"Well, I'd like to introduce you to my other associate too," Doc insisted, watching Frank carefully for any distress that he knew the older hunter would work hard to hide. "He's good people. Human as they get. And look, Frank..." he sighed, shifting in his seat a little, "I know this changes things with you and me. Only an idiot would think otherwise. But I'm the same guy you've known for the last decade. When I took this title, I didn't change. All I did was make enemies out of heaven and hell... so now I need my friends even more."

"I don't know yet how much this changes," Frank admitted. "I'm still taking this in. This is big, Eric. Never seen nothing this big before. I'm going to have to think on this one and while I do I need to know what exactly is going to change." If he said yes - he left unspoken. It hung there between the words as obvious as their surroundings. Frank was pretty sure none of this was sinking in yet because he didn't feel all that out of balance from Doc's revelations. When he looked at him he still saw Eric Martens, a good hunter, good company and a face familiar in ways faces only got after years of recognition. War indeed.

Doc laughed humorlessly, nodding his agreement. "You don't have to tell me it's big," he agreed, musing on the things he'd seen that he could never speak of, "I went from a bike and a box of bullets to memorizing the power players of global conflict. As for change? I'll have things for you to watch for; new faces, changes in the town itself, problems your boys notice at school. It's all about seeing a problem before it becomes one. And unlike our old jobs? This one pays a little better." Which was his insistance, of course; Teddybear was always eager to siphon funds from old enemies of theirs, reroute the money until it was untraceable, and put it to work.

"And the hunt?" Frank asked, taking in all Doc was saying and filtering it away to be contemplated when he was alone again. "I have things to do still, if I join you, will I have to give them up?" Prevention was all well and good and possibly more rewarding, but killing the things that had caused him and others pain was and always had been reward enough to keep him going. While it never satisfied him or put him at ease, it was a job and he was good at it. Plus there was that fiend he still wanted to take down, if he could ever find it.

"Not at all," he was quick to assure Frank, shaking his head. "I wouldn't think to ask you if that was the situation. There might be a time when I need you here, or a particular hunt you'll need to back off of, but I won't ever tell you to quit entirely." Like Star had told him, it was important to keep from denying or ignoring what you were. Frank Alden was born to hunt, whether that was a good thing or not. "Hell, help me out and I can probably make sure you get some assistance when some leads show themselves."

That was really all he needed to know, but Frank wasn't the type to jump on an offer without giving it a lot of consideration first. "Everything else you told me," he said quietly. "The kids, your partner. It's all true, isn't it." It wasn't a question so much as a statement that Frank still trusted Doc, believed what he said. Again - if the man, if he could call him that, wanted Frank dead, that would have happened a long time ago when it still really mattered. When he had a small boy all alone waiting in a motel room with nobody else to rely on. Or a wife who hoped he'd come home in one piece. From what Doc had said, it really did sound like he needed friends and Frank had no reason to doubt him.

Doc nodded slowly, wrapping both hands around his coffee cup. "It's all true," he agreed with a solemn expression, "It's the reason for everything I'm doing now. This? It's the biggest hunt there ever was. It's a job to guarantee there'll still be other jobs. To make sure that, even if I can't make things right for people, I can give them a world to try and make things better for themselves." He thought Frank might understand that idea in particular; men like them didn't always excel at mending their own lives, but so long as they could hope in the idea of 'maybe', there was a reason to keep going.

"You've certainly given me a lot to think about," Frank admitted, but for him the hunt was just one step at a time, no hope or idealism, just something that needed to get done. Like taking out the trash before the kitchen started to smell bad. He'd long since lost any motivation for the job but the same went for any motivation not to do it. "Well then, Mister War," he glanced over at Doc, a small hint of a smile curling his lips or more accurately - twitching his mustache. "Do you need a ride anywhere?" That alone bordered on amusing for him, giving War a ride home. It was the cherry on top of the cream of surreal this evening.

"I'm always good for a walk," Doc answered, shaking his head at the offer. And knowing his luck, Duty would swell up in his chest while Frank was driving, and he'd have to freak the guy out by vanishing right in front of him. "Just think on it as long as you need to, give me a call when you have an answer or more questions. Or if you're still game for dinner with both sets of kids," he offered with a smile of his own, figuring that was about as normal and far-removed from his tasks as one could ask for.

Ah, the dinner. There was a concept almost as weird to Frank as the fact that Eric Martens was War. The idea appealed to him and horrified him at the same time, though he was certain his boys could chat up a storm and that would spare him the pain of having to keep a conversation going. "My younger-" he started, frowning softly. "He doesn't know what I do, not yet." Did he tell him already? It would at the very least make dinner awkward if it took place before Dylan knew the truth. "He didn't grow up with me."

Doc frowned, withdrawing his hand from the handle of the car door. "You should probably tell him," he advised gently. "In these parts, ignorance is a dangerous thing. And I know that if he was Jade's boy? He might want more answers than you feel like you can give. But he has a right to know, Frank. Truth's one of the rarest commodities out there, and being denied it can twist a man around quick." He smiled in understanding, knowing that fatherhood was a far trickier task to contend with. "If you need time with it, let me know. I'll make sure no one says anything unseemly over dessert," he promised, smiling jokingly and clapping the other man on the arm.

Frank made a small huff that could have been a laugh had there been more behind it. At least he smiled faintly, nodding at what Doc said. The man caught on quick, Frank hadn't said much about Jade but he guessed his face was easy to read when he did talk about her. Unless Doc now had more powers to go with his new station in life. Frank wondered about that for a moment, what exactly it entailed, but he didn't ask. Not this time. "I gave him your number, in case something goes wrong. He'll have Nate but he might call anyway. I hope it won't come to that though."

It wasn't hard to work out, given the bits of life Frank had mentioned, suddenly finding himself with two boys in the wake of Jade's death. From there, it had been a guess, and a correct one. "Well, if he calls, I'll do what I can to make sure you're okay so that he is too," Doc told him, thinking it'd be easier with a mark on Frank. But that had to wait for an actual acceptance of what Doc was offering. "If you don't mind, I'd like to give my kids the same option, just in case shit goes crazy and they need to link up with someone."

"Of course," Frank replied without hesitation. "I'll do you one better. If shit hits the fan, your kids are more than welcome at my place. We're living on 742 West Kaye Avenue, not far from Mya's diner." He knew very well how important it could be to have a safe place to run to and while he wasn't overly pleased with the house as a fort - he had weapons to make up for it and a car to get away in.

"I'll keep the offer in mind," Doc told him, "And the same extends to you if we hit dark days again." Of course, he'd clear it with the twins first, but all three of them could use more social interaction, so he figured Frank and his boys would definitely be welcome there. "We'll cross that bridge when we come it, though. For now? Just think about the offer. And get a good night's sleep, you look like you could use it." Among other things. But if Doc was still drinking and smoking, he wasn't about to tell someone else to quit. "I'll be waiting to hear from you," he said as he popped the door open and hopped free, grinning back and waving Frank's way before shutting it again.

Frank was pretty sure Doc would get to hear from him soon. The offer intrigued him and while he still felt like there might be a catch he was as of yet unaware of it didn't really matter. There was purpose there, bigger than anything he'd dealt with before. He knew already that he would never be able to fully let this go if he denied it, it would always be on his mind, gnawing at him - what if what if. Still, he would sleep on it, he couldn't rush to conclusions, that wasn't his style.

He watched Doc walk away, marveling at the fact this man, this hunter buddy of his was what he'd just said he was. Locking the doors again, Frank drank more of his coffee, finishing the remains in the thermos before starting up a slow crawl again, heading down the street. He wouldn't be out long now, itching to get home and check up on his boys, considering Doc's offer and indeed - get some sleep.