It was spring, and Beckett felt good. The feeling of sickness from the werewolf venom had long wore off, and a spring morning walk seemed perfect. The empty cathedral, though menacing at night, was a pretty site in a spring morning, the suns rays hitting it perfectly, the morning dew shimmering on the greening grass. And the wonderful smell! He'd never experienced a more delicious sweet scent in his life. Having a weres nose did help though.

Beck walked in through the doors that were, surpirsingly, still attached to there hinges and walked by the still standing stone pews. He sat in the front row, where the sun was shining through a slightly broken stained glass window above the crumbling altar. He gazed at the delicate window, looking at what remained of the picture. It was, of course, a picture of Mary, holding baby Jesus, halos around their head. He traced the lines with his eyes as he continued to breath in the scent of spring.