"I'll be back," Brian told them, and he and Khaat and Nigel ported to St. Mungos.
"Edward, do you know if Benjamin might have used a bedroom here wile you were gone" Robert asked.
"Yes, he had pretty much moved me out of the master suite upstairs. It's the room upstairs at the very end of the hall," Edward said.
"Why did you let him get away with it?" Robert was frustrated with Edward.
"I really had taken to liking the bedroom in the pool house. It's simple, its bright and clean, and when i leave the doors wide open at night, I can lay in bed with my morning coffee and watch the sun rise," Edward said. "I hadn't spent much time sleeping in the master suite in the last month or so before I joined you in England."
"Alright. Your permission for me to go scout it out to see if I find anything of significance?"
"Help yourself. Go wherever you like. Look wherever you want," Edward said.
"Thank you," Robert said, going upstairs.
Angus was angry. And as pure retaliation against his father, he deliberately blew the front door off right off its hinges, causing the thick, solid heavy door to explode into splinters. He walked in and saw that the house looked like it had been ripped apart inside. Furniture and drapes were shredded and destroyed. Floors were irrepairably scratched and clawed. Ceiling light fixtures and wall scones were ripped completely out of the ceiling and the walls. And there was werewolf pee and poop everywhere.
Angus stood in silence, staring. This was the house where he had grown up until Edward had rescued him. He walked into the kitchen and saw nothing but evidence of werewolf hunting and eating that had been dragged into the kitchen. There was all manner of rotting meat and food on the table, the counters and on the floor.
"This was Edward's wedding gift to them. It needs a wrecking ball now," Angus said quietly.
"Or an industrial cleaning crew," Michael said. He watched Angus go up the stairs and he followed him. Angus went from room to room until he came to the last room on the right.
The room had been, at some point, decorated by some paid interior designer, for a little boy. It was done in baby blue, crisp navy, and, a one point what had been a sparkling white. Now, this room was almost completely obliterated. To Michael, he believed it spoke of blind rage--rage at the little boy who had slept here, an uncontrollable violence that would surely have killed the little boy if he had not been rescued almost thirty years ago. Michael had no words for what he was seeing. How could any father so loathe his own son? And where was his mother in all of it? Did she hate him like Benjamin had? Or did she simply not fight for her son? Or was she so self centered that she didn't give a damn? How could such a strong, decent man come from the union of two such miscreants?
Clearly, Edward had not seen this, Michael knew, or he would not have let Angus see it without him.
"Angus,..." Michael began gently.
"They never loved me at all. Not for one fraction of a second," he said, the weight of it hitting him in the face of all the evidence in front of him.
"Part of this was done by their werewolf forms. You know that."
"That was downstairs," Angus said. "Up here? They were human up here."
by 
