It was my niece's birthday today, so on my way home I figured I'd drop off her present, but as soon as I pulled into my sister Susan's driveway I knew something was wrong; James noticed it to.  The first sign was the open driver's side door on her husband Mike's truck; the second, and more obvious, clue was the shouting coming from the open door and underneath the shouting I could hear Jenny, my niece, crying.  I took off in a dead run, James right behind me, and leaped up the three steps onto the porch, pistol in hand.  I pushed the door open and motioned for James to wait; Susan was holding Mike's double-barreled skeet shotgun against Mike's chest and he was shouting at her, a bottle of Jack Daniel's in his hand.  I holstered the pistol and moved quickly to Jenny, who was clutching 'Sam', her favorite rabbit plush, and crying her eyes out.  I hugged her, ignoring Mike who was now shouting at me, and had James take her out to the car.  I stood and walked over to Susan and Mike, and as gently as I could I took the shotgun from Susan; as I did so I noticed her left eye was swollen.  It turned to face Mike, who was standing right in front of me, his breath reeking of alcohol; I glared at the drunken badger, "What the hell did you do to my sister?"
	He returned the glare in kind, then responded in a combination of thick Southern-Alabama and drunken slur, "Ah was showin' that bitch whut happens if she fucks up ma car.  She..."
	I didn't let him finish; I thumped the shotgun's butt into his solar plexus, then cracked it across his face as he doubled over, gasping for air.  Susan was yelling something at me, but I couldn't hear her.  I was far too pissed off.  I grabbed the badger by his t-shirt and pulled him up to bring him face to face with me.  "You bastard," I growled harshly, "You had better _never_ hit my sister again, or so help me I'll kill you."  To punctuate the point I slammed my fist into his face, right between his eyes, and let him drop to the floor.
	When I turned around Susan was leveling the shotgun at me.  I ignored it, "You alright, Sue?"
	She actually sounded like me when she responded, that's scary, "Get out of my house."
	I looked her over for a moment, then just as I started to respond I felt something hit me just below the temple and heard a bottle breaking.  Staggering sideways I lashed out in the direction the hit had come from, and I felt my claws rip through a cotton t-shirt.  By the time the stars cleared Mike was almost on me, wielding the broken bottle like a knife.  He slashed at my gut but I lunged backwards, leaning back at the same time.  He may have been drunk but he was still former Army special forces, and as such knew a few nasty tricks.  I knew 'em too; by leaning back I was well clear when he followed the slash with an upward thrust that would have ripped my throat open.  In a more open area I would have let my momentum keep carrying me back and kicked Mike in the muzzle, but I settled for grabbing my ASP.  I flicked open the collapsible baton, bringing it down on the badger's arm at the same time; the ASP, which was little more than a set of metal tubes that nested in each other and then became a very effective baton when flicked open, did its job well.  I heard one of the bones in his forearm snap, and the broken bottle dropped to the floor; this was followed that up with a strike to his gut, then one to the side of his knee.  I would've kept on going, hell I'd have probably ended up killing him right there, but I found myself staring down the twin barrels of the shotgun.
	I don't know when Jenny had come back inside, but she was clinging onto Susan's leg and crying quietly into it.  "I told you to get out of my house," Susan growled, "Now."  James put his hand on my shoulder.  "C'mon, Alec," he said.  I looked at Mike, feebly whimpering on the floor and cradling his arm, then back at Susan, then at Jenny.  With a slight growl I turned and left the house, hearing the door slam behind me.  James looked at the side of my face, the fur now covered in partially dried blood, "You alright?"  My keys weren't in the ignition or my pocket, so I held out my hand and James handed 'em to me. "Didn't wanna have someone steal the car," he said as I turned the car on and shifted into reverse.  I waited until we were back on the main road before I said anything, "Why did Jenny come back inside?"
	"She wanted to make sure her mommy was OK," he said.
	I nodded, "He's gonna end up killing 'em both."
	"I know.  What're you going to do about it?"
	"The only thing I _can_ do, legally, is call Protective Services.  I'll do that tonight."
	"Susan'll be pissed."
	"I'd rather have my niece safe than my sister happy with me.  Hell, she probably doesn't like me much now."
	"Yeah...yeah, good point."
	Neither of us talked the rest of the way, the Maxima's engine providing the only noise.  We made it back to the apartment building ten minutes later, retrieved our briefcases, and went to our respective floors.  Rayna was sitting on the futon reading a magazine when I came in; she didn't look up, "Hey, love.  How was your day?"
	I went through my normal ritual of emptying my pockets and removing my weapons, then sat heavily in one of the chairs at the bar.  "Fan-bloody-tastic," I said.  She looked up, the blood on my face still not visible to her, "Gee, that wasn't sarcastic."  I stood up and walked around the bar, "Really?  Damn."
	"Oh jeeze," she said when she saw the blood, "what'd you do to yourself this time?"  She put the magazine on the coffee table and walked over to me.
	"I got in a fight with Mike."
	"Your brother in law?"
	"Unfortunately, but yes."
	"What happened?"
	I related the story to her; it took about four minutes.  While I was talking she retrieved a first aid kit, with which she cleaned and dressed the cut on my face.
	"That poor kid," she said when I finished.
	"I'm gonna call Protective Services."