Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At this point, Damian is more than used to his father bringing home children on a whim, but this time, even he can admit that the poor boy is more than deserving of a safe home with them. After seeing his parents brutally murdered in front of him, tragic victims of a racketeering ploy targeted on the circus he’d grown up in, even Damian can agree that the kid needs a lucky break. 

When Bruce first brought back Richard- the little boy shaken and pale and constantly avoiding eye contact- everyone had been excited. It had been quite a while since the last child had been adopted into the family. But after a surprise introduction from Stephanie had Richard screaming in terror and escaping to the top of the chandelier in the foyer, the family decided to give Richard some space to settle in.

Damian himself felt sympathetic. He remembered his own first days, how intimidating the large halls were, and how out of place he’d felt. Richard’s family was from a circus, he’d lived in a trailer all his life. The opulence of the Wayne Manor was sure to be overwhelming. So Damian didn’t begrudge the boy hiding away in his room most of the time, he’d find his way down when he needed to. Not to mention, the sheer number of people in the Manor at any given time could be daunting, what with Damian and Jason living there full time, and Tim, Stephanie, and Duke cycling in and out at any given time. 

The most they see of Dick is a silent, bowed head at the dinner table, and sometimes a shadow beneath their feet in the hall. They all want to make the kid welcome but they don’t want to freak him out, so Dick is left alone for hours at a time, and he keeps himself huddled away in his room. 

It’s no surprise to anyone when Dick steps away from the table again, food just pushed around in circles, a trick that all of them have tried and failed to make work on Alfred. But it’s been months, and if anything, Dick has only been eating less and less every day, so Bruce excuses him and lets the boy leave. Someone or the other will drop a stash of energy bars at his door in a bit. It’s the only thing they can do to get him to eat anything. Frankly, Damian is worried the boy will waste away to nothing, but he doesn’t visibly look ill, and Alfred confirms empty wrappers in his trash, so they’ve agreed to give Dick a bit more time before they bring it up to him. 

He’ll settle in soon enough.

–

Dick knows he only has about a week left. He’s going to make the most of it, and then he’ll make his peace. 

–

Dick pushes away from the table, a silent nod in thanks to Bruce as he shuffles away. The Waynes’ eyes track him as he leaves and Dick takes stiff measured steps, trying not to betray any weakness that he feels. The minute he turns past the doorway though, Dick gasps in pain, swaying to fall against the wall. He can’t risk stopping, he can’t be caught like this, so he pushes himself back up and staggers up the stairs to his bedroom. The dinner sits heavy in his stomach, and his hands burn like they are on fire. Each step is torture as Dick feels the herbs sink into his bloodstream, and he knows he has to move faster if he’s going to be able to regurgitate enough of it to stay conscious. The last time Dick hadn’t been fast enough, Bruce had broken down his door to find him lying next to his bed, blood puddled in the vomit around him. 

In a desperate moment, Dick had claimed that he’d gotten dizzy and fallen over, biting his tongue on the way down to explain the blood, but Dick knows that if he tries that more than once, it’ll mean a direct trip to a doctor that’s more experienced than Alfred. Dick has managed to squirrel out of any official check-ups by claiming that he is afraid of the doctor, but in reality, he knows that the minute a medical professional examines his teeth, or his hands, it will be obvious what he’s worked so hard to hide from the family that has taken him in:

Dick is a werewolf in a family of world-famous werewolf hunters.

–

He’d heard the stories from his mother, a new danger to stay alert from in every city they traveled to. In Metropolis, there was Lex Luthor and his army of weaponized hunter robots. Star City had the Arrows, a mysterious group of hunters that used deadly wolfsbane-tipped arrows and rarely missed. There were the scientists in Central, the ones that would inject captured wolves with a ‘cure’. It wasn’t a cure though, it was a horrible thing that would trap your wolf inside of you, that hurt worse than any torture ever could. 

Once, Dick had asked his mama why they traveled to these cities, why they went straight into the center of danger, and she’d laughed and held him close.

“My little Robin, if we stayed away from everything scary, we’d stay curled up in bed forever.”

“I like cuddling in bed with you, Mama!”

“And don’t you like flying too? We stay safe, we make sure we are careful, and we fly. And maybe one day, when humans stop being so afraid of wolves, they might remember the wonderful little wolf that flew over their heads like an angel, my little Robin.”

–

The circus had been a haven, Dick was fairly certain that most of the troupe was no more human than his family was, but no one ever talked about it, no one questioned various noises at all hours of the night, and they all protected each other. It hadn’t been enough, though. When the bad man had come and had yelled at Haly about paying more to keep quiet, to keep their secret, it had been his parents that had paid the price. 

As he’d watched the man laugh coldly right before their show, something in Dick had screamed at the danger, but his parents had hurried him on, and Dick had lost sight of him. Later, as he had been pulled out of the ring by the contortionist that had taught him how to write in cursive, Dick had caught sight of that same man, looking now even smugger than before, and the swirling rage and bubbling instincts in him took over and he had leaped. Before even he had known what had happened, there was loud screaming, and thick, heavy blood in his mouth. Dick had been quickly pulled away, but through a red haze in his eyes, Dick had watched the pained screams of the man that had killed his parents with more satisfaction than he was comfortable with. 

After his parents had- Dick vaguely remembered the rest of the circus quickly packing his bags, whispering to him about keeping his secret, about never revealing himself. Advice and warnings about the people he was being forced to go with, about how to keep from being found were quickly poured onto him. He had nodded dazedly, still reeling from the snapping of his pack bonds, heart keening in pain and fear, but he’d internalized every word.

–

His instincts were spiraling out of control- he was still a young werewolf, but with the rest of his pack gone, suddenly too much of the pack’s power was surging into him. Biting his lip to keep a puppyish whine from escaping, Dick followed along with the lady that was supposed to find him somewhere to stay, like she wasn’t tearing him away from his home, from his pack nest, from the fading scents of his parents. When he was finally dropped off at the center, a huge building filled with the scents of so many new people it made Dick’s head spin, Dick huddled himself into his given bunk, trying not to howl for his lost pack. 

The bed was one in a room of nineteen others, and strangers’ scents were saturated into the mattress and the bedding. Every part of Dick’s body was rejecting his surroundings, but he couldn’t risk getting in trouble or bringing any attention to himself, so he scrambled through his bag to find the most important things in it, the last marks of his parents. His mama’s scarf, the soft one she always wore somewhere on her, tied in her hair, around her waist, at her neck, saturated in her scent. His da’s gloves, the thick leather ones that he’d used for years, to wrap rope, to catch Dick from thirty feet up in the sky, to hold him close. 

He stuffed his nose in his parents’ things and shivered, not from the cold, but from the empty ache in his chest, and cried softly until morning. 

The next few weeks that Dick was at the facility were a haze in his memory. He wandered about as he was told, body obeying orders, but mind still lurching to find some sense of stability after the loss of his entire pack. Throughout the day, Dick kept his head down, refused to interact with anyone, not giving them any reason to even suspect that he was anything other than human. At night, Dick would tuck himself in, surrounded by horrid, unfamiliar blankets, and grip tight to his parents’ scents. 

Eating was hard, and not only because the food was unfamiliar and unappetizing, but because Dick could still taste that man’s blood in the back of his mouth, and he didn’t want to risk losing the taste that he would use to track down that bastard. Some part of Dick was horrified, knowing that his parents would be horrified at the sheer hatred that flowed so easily through him. But his parents were dead, they had been killed, and all Dick had left was the desperate craving for revenge and that man’s blood dripping from his teeth. 

The security around the building was laughable, but still, Dick couldn’t manage to sneak away from the orphanage, always dragged back inside by a well-meaning but strict social worker. For a scant few minutes, he would get an escape from the overload of sensory inputs within the orphanage, and a reprieve from the attacks on his increasingly sensitive senses, but he was always found before he could get away. 

As the days passed, Dick felt the instincts in him grow stronger, to run, to scent, to build packbonds to keep himself from falling apart. But an orphanage was no place for a budding werewolf. Not with its constantly changing roster of people, the lack of any sort of comfort or stability, and the fact that there was no privacy for a werewolf about to experience his first real full moon. 

Dick knew that the minute the call of the moon pulled at him just a week later, his ancestry would become undeniable, and his fate would be something worse than death. He had to get out of here, fast. 

__

Dick was jerked out of his monotonous schedule one day and pulled into a brand-new room by a kindly-looking woman who smelled of anything but niceness. She whispered at him to behave just as a large man walked into the room, sitting across the table from Dick. 

“Richard, this is Mr. Bruce Wayne. He wants to adopt you.”

Immediately, Dick dropped his eyes, looking down to protect his neck, and shoved his hands under his thighs trying to hide the claws that were trying to burst out with the rush of panic that floods through him. 

Another bite of his mother’s wisdom sparked in his brain.

“This is Gotham, Dick. You will need to be the most careful here. Once we finish our act, straight back to the trailer, I don’t want to risk being out here any more than we can help it. Of all the places in the world, Dick, Gotham is the most dangerous for wolves. Gotham has the Bats. It’s a whole family of hunters, and they are fast and they are vicious, and they rarely ever lose their hunt. The humans do not know who they are, and they cover their scents wherever they go, but there was a wolf that managed to escape from them, and he managed to catch their scent. Dick, if you ever hear the name of Wayne, run, baby. Run and do not look back. Come back to us and we will protect you.”

But his parents were gone, and there was no one that Dick could run to, so he sat there, in front of the world’s most prolific hunter of his brethren, and tried not to sob aloud. 

“Hi, Dick. I’m Bruce and I- well, I was there the night your parents died. I’m so sorry that they were taken from you so soon. I know how that feels, I lost my parents when I was about your age too. I was walking home with my parents when a werewolf attacked us and-” 

Dick flinched violently, bracing backward as if preparing for a blow, but nothing came. Instead, as he peeked carefully up, he saw Bruce Wayne cringe apologetically. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” It seemed as if Wayne didn’t know that Dick was a wolf, that he was one of the monsters of his story, and Dick tried to figure out how to respond. He knew it was better to let Wayne believe that he was scared of wolves rather than him, but it hurt Dick to let that slight pass. 

Wayne continued, shattering Dick’s world with every one of his words “I came here, I looked for you because I wanted to take you in, Dick.” Dick forgot all measure of safety and his head shot up, staring into Wayne’s eyes. “I see myself in you, Dick, as unfortunate as it is. I just want to help you as I needed it years ago.” 

Everything seemed frozen, time itself stopped, while Dick tried desperately to think of an answer that wouldn’t get him brutally killed. Did Wayne know he was a werewolf? Was he trying to trap Dick? Was he trying to take him in to experiment on? Would he force Dick to shift? Was he looking for a pelt to display in his front rooms? 

There was no good answer, Dick knew. If he denied, people would start to ask why he had refused the assistance of such an influential man. If he accepted, he could be subjecting himself to the whims of a brutal, ruthless man who held no affection for Dick or his kind. 

But the full moon was getting closer and closer, and every day that Dick had to spend in this festering pool of filth and scents that attacked his newly increased senses was another day that he risked spiraling out of control. Dick was too young to have to bear this level of sensitivity, for all his senses to be dialed up to a hundred, but Dick had felt barriers to his powers tear open the minute his parents had fallen to their deaths. The senses that should have been locked to him for another couple years at least, the powers that should never have been his to bear until his father had passed them on, all forced into a body too small, too untrained to deal with it all. Dick was almost grateful for the neglect of the institution’s workers that he was left alone enough to suffer through the symptoms of werewolf adolescence all on his own, but he knew that on the night of the full moon, in full view of everyone who surrounded him as he slept in the dorms, he would lose himself to the instincts of the wolf and shortly after, lose his life.

Going with Wayne was if anything, the lesser of the two dangers. Dick didn’t smell any deception on him, and even if the man had managed to conceal his scent to Dick, his heart beat steadily. If he went with Wayne, Dick could try and escape before he was ever captured, and small as he was, Dick knew his teeth could do damage. He just needed to wait out the first full moon somewhere, and hopefully, he’d be able to run away before anyone even suspected what he was.

Dick finally, shakily, nodded yes, averting his eyes from Wayne once again. This was the man that had killed so many others like him, and now Dick was putting his life in his hands. There was no way to know what was going to happen next, but Dick wasn’t going to go down without a fight. 

While Wayne signed some forms and talked to the social workers, Dick ran to the dorms to collect his things. There was barely anything to pack, but Dick couldn’t risk leaving behind his mama’s scarf or his da’s gloves. Even as faded as the scents had gotten, they were the last bit of comfort that Dick had left. Going into enemy territory now, Dick was going to need all the strength he could muster up.

When Dick made his way back into the front room, Wayne was waiting for him with a small smile, and try as he could, Dick couldn’t decipher the true meaning behind it. Wayne extended his hand, and Dick hesitated for a moment before finally taking it. He would have to play up appearances for now, but as Dick trailed behind Wayne to his car, following hand in hand, he resisted the urge to extend his brand-new claws and test them out against the soft skin on top of the older man’s delicate veins. 

Dick hadn’t forgotten his mother’s words of warning, but as he climbed out of the car and into a large garage filled with vehicles, it suddenly hit him that the Waynes were a full hunting family, not just one man. Dick was going into the lion’s den, and there was more than one angry predator on the roam. Wayne had seemed to notice Dick’s reluctance to touch him, because he didn’t offer him a hand out of the car again, and Dick was warily grateful. 

Wayne led Dick up a staircase, and it opened into a small room full of coats and shoes. 

“This is where we leave our dirty things so we don’t track mud and water into the house, or else Alfred will chase us with a broom.” Dick froze for a second, panicking at the thought of the potential attack already incoming, but Wayne laughed awkwardly, and Dick realized that it was only a joke. A bad one. 

“Sorry, uh, he's not going to really. There are just a lot of people in the house and we like to make Alfred’s work light where we can. If you ever have mud on your shoes, you can take them off here, and there are some slippers you can wear inside instead.” Wayne explained, and he looked so uncomfortable that Dick wondered if this was really the man that was supposed to be such a dangerous hunter. But then, Wayne brushed past the hanging jackets, revealing a thick chain hanging on the hooks beneath it, and Dick didn’t let himself doubt anymore. The worst thing Dick could do was underestimate his adversaries, especially now that he was on their turf. 

The long drive and huge iron gates should have tipped Dick off, but as they walked into the main house itself, Dick realized slowly the sheer enormity of the place. The kitchen alone looked to be the size of his family’s entire trailer, and after the cramped conditions of the orphanage, Dick felt a bit untethered by the open space. At the counter, a tall man was sitting with a younger boy who was probably five or six years older than Dick. A book was flipped open between them, the pages desecrated with scribbled notes and highlighted sections, and Dick wondered if this was what wealth really meant. 

“Damian, Jason. This is Richard Grayson. Dick, this is Damian and Jason, my oldest and youngest.” Wayne introduced, pointing first at the older one and then the younger.

“Hey! Not anymore I’m not!” The younger one, Jason, bounded over to Dick excitedly, thrusting his hand out, and Dick flinched back in instinctual response. Jason quickly pulled his hand back, tucking it behind himself. “Oh, uh, sorry, I got excited. I’m finally not going to be the baby of the family anymore!” Dick eyed the bright smile with suspicion, but he decided that it was better not to be antagonistic before they gave him a reason to be. 

“Hi.” It was all he could manage, but it seemed to be the right thing to say because there were three looks of various delight reflected back at him. Before anyone else could ask him anything more, a wide yawn escaped Dick, and he snapped his jaw shut and looked around in a panic. His mama used to laugh delightedly whenever Dick would get really tired because his yawns would pop out his little fangs by reflex. But there was no trace of fear or revulsion on the faces of the people around him, and Dick relaxed slightly. Three weeks of biting his fangs into his lip to hide them from dropping randomly seemed to finally pay off. 

“Well, it looks like you’re wiped out, Dick, so I won’t keep you up late. Damian, can you take Dick to his room, and show him the emergency supplies.” Wayne motioned for Damian to come and take Dick’s singular bag from him, but when the younger Wayne reached forward, Dick only gripped his bag tighter. As tame as they had been so far, Dick wasn’t willing to hand over control of the last of his things to these strangers, not when he didn’t know where they were taking him, or what they were really planning on doing with him. Putting his hands up placatingly, Damian backed away and gestured for Dick to follow him. 

Damian moved quickly through the halls, and Dick could barely keep up with him, let alone remember the various twists and turns. He was going to need to scent every corner of the huge house before he’d be able to find his way around. Speaking of scents, the Manor wasn’t as saturated as the group home had been, but Dick could still pick out at least five to six different people who moved regularly throughout the place, and his heartbeat picked up at the reminder of the fact that he was going to be very outnumbered, should anything go wrong. 

A smooth voice startled him out of his spiral of thoughts, and Dick almost bumped into where Damian had stopped walking and was looking down at Dick in curiosity. 

“This door leads to a panic room,” Damian pulled open the handle, and Dick stood a respectable distance away, unwilling to let himself get trapped like a chump at any point. “In case anything goes wrong, if the security alarms start going off, or even if you’re just feeling unsafe, you can hide in here. We’ll all get notified the minute this door locks tight behind you, and it won’t open until you let us in.” Dick must have looked wary, because Damian went on, “You control this door, Dick. There are various panic rooms throughout the Manor because there are times when many of my siblings can feel unsafe, but this one is just for you. You’re not going to be locked in there, ever. You control who comes in and out, I promise.”

Dick stepped slightly closer and looked around the small room. There was a small bed inside, with a chest at the foot, and a desk on the other side of the toom, and there didn’t seem to be any chains or torture implements hidden anywhere he could see. Dick finally stepped away, and nodded quietly again, reaching behind him to grab his bag and settle into the room. If he was going to get his own space, Dick would be able to make his own nest, and maybe he’d be able to sleep properly at night. But a hand on this shoulder stopped him, and Dick felt ice washing through his veins.

“Oh, this isn’t your room.” Well, now Dick was confused again. Damain led him just down the hall, passing one door to arrive at the next. “That was your panic room, and then your bathroom, and this is your bedroom.” The fear that had been gripping him where Damian’s heavy presence touched his shoulder melted away to more bewilderment. Dick had grown up in the same room as his parents, sharing a bed with both of them even as he’d grown; he could have reached the sink from his place in bed, and it took a total of five steps to make his way from one side of their trailer to the other. Here, in this opulent, excessive building, Dick was being given access to three rooms, all to his own, and no restraint to where he could and couldn’t go. Damian seemed to catch on to his confusion as Dick looked back to him in question, and a small sympathetic smile graced his face. “This is a lot, I understand. You will get used to it, eventually.”

The door to his real room was ornately carved, not unlike most of the other doors that they passed on the way up. Damian didn’t follow him in, and Dick had a moment of hesitation, but as he took in the room around him, Dick realized that this was probably not the torture dungeon he had been expecting all this time. The bed was bigger than he’d ever seen and plush with more pillows than he could need at any given point. A rope ladder sat beneath the second-story window, and the internally connecting door to the bathroom was ajar. The desk was lit by a soft reading lamp, and stacks of notebooks and pencils sat waiting for someone to work with them. This was not the room of a prisoner, of an experiment. Dick was truly just another (of clearly many) kid to Wayne. 

The revelation was staggering, and suddenly, the entire day’s whirlwind of emotions hit Dick at once, and he dropped his bag, leaning against the bed tiredly.

“I’ll leave you alone for now,” Damian said softly, “Everything you need should be in the bathroom, and if you need anyone at night, Bruce’s room is the big door at the end of the hall, and Jason and I are two and three doors down from you, respectively. Don’t be afraid to knock, we’re all light sleepers. Good night, Richard.”

With that, Damian left him, closing the door behind him, and Dick listened carefully to make sure that there was no click of a lock. He didn’t know if should be grateful or worried that the rest of them were light sleepers. It meant that any noises he made at night would have to be careful, and Dick would need to make excuses for the full moon. They would probably leave him alone if he asked, but Dick knew that if there was any amount of suspicion, his instinctual wolf form would only cause more problems. 

Dick turned the lock on the door on his side, and shut both the bathroom doors carefully, trying not to make it obvious that he was barricading himself in his room until morning. He was tempted to just take up residence in the panic room, but he knew that would only open him up to more questioning. As he pushed the pillows off the bed and shuffled the blankets around to his liking, Dick noticed that there was a faint level of sound-proofing throughout the room. Not enough to completely muffle sound, not with his senses, but as far as he could tell, normal humans wouldn’t be able to hear into the room unless something truly ear-shattering went on. Dick smiled, relieved that something was finally going right. 

The nest that he made was plush and soft and comfortable, but it wasn’t right. The blankets weren’t soaked with his dead pack’s scents, and the pillow that his mama had hand-stitched when he was a baby was missing. Dick tucked the scarf and the gloves under his favorite of all the pillows, deciding that he would condense and limit the scent as much as possible. Curled tight around himself, cuddled into soft blankets that smell like nothing except fresh soap and the tinge of his own scent, Dick finally slept peacefully.

__

“Hi, there!”

A loud voice surprised Dick the next morning as he tried to follow the scent of fresh bacon to the kitchen, and he felt his wolf want to tear out of him instinctually. A woman with a huge smile and blonde curls waved at him, but Dick slapped a hand over his mouth, where a growl was threatening to escape and looked wildly around for an escape. He could already feel the sharps of his teeth against his palm, and Dick couldn’t let anyone else catch a glimpse. Dick looked over the balcony of the stairs and calculated the length of his jump before he ran for it. A scream of shock followed him, but Dick was confident as he launched himself off the balcony and onto the chandelier. He knew that he was taking a risk on whether or not the lighting fixture could hold his weight, but he was young, and if he did fall, well there’d be no injury worth mentioning.

“What’s happening?” Damian ran into the room, followed closely by Jason and Wayne, and they tracked the sound of the blonde girl freaking out to where Dick was perched in the crystal chandelier that was probably worth a lot of money while he tried to get his fangs to go back in. 

“Dick? Oh my god, Dick! Are you okay? How did you get up there? Oh my god!” Jason was panicking, and Dick was taken aback at the show of concern. No one had sounded so affected for him in a long time, it soothed something in his chest to be fretted over. 

Wayne sent Damian running for a ladder to get Dick down, and he called up to the boy, who was slightly offended at the implication that he couldn’t get down on his own. His da had always taught him never to get onto something he couldn’t get off of, so cutting off Wayne’s questions about his condition up in the chandelier, and why he ended up there, Dick let go of the chandelier. He fell to the ground and rolled twice to balance out his momentum, relying on his durability to keep his bones in place. Dick popped up to standing right in front of Wayne and Jason, and the young boy stared up at the shocked Waynes with a look of simple innocence that he had long perfected. 

“I’m perfectly okay. She just scared me, so I freaked out and jumped out of the way. I was raised a gymnast, you know?”

“Right, of course.” Wayne still seemed in shock, and it gave Dick no end of delight. “Just uh, careful on the old furniture and stuff.”

Dick nodded as he followed them back into the kitchen, and the blonde girl caught up. 

“Sorry for freaking you out kid, was just hyped to finally meet you! I’m Stephanie, but my little siblings call me Steph!” Steph was bright and bubbly, and nothing like Dick expected of a brutal werewolf hunter. He was coming to learn that not a lot of what he’d thought about hunters was accurate. For one, none of them were smart enough to figure out that he was a wolf. “That was a pretty cool trick there, kid.” She held out her fist expectantly. Dick had seen other kids do this, but he’d never had anyone offer their fist to him before, and he carefully tapped his own closed hand against hers, looking up at her as he did. Steph smiled brilliantly back at him, ruffling a quick hand through his hair before she went for the table, and Dick nearly whined in desire from the comforting touch. 

He hadn’t been touched by anyone in such a long time, it was starting to send aches through him. No one at the orphanage had come close to him, and there was no way that he could ask someone to hold him like he needed, but Stephanie, Steph had done- Dick froze.

Somehow, in the haze of a good night’s sleep and positive attention from people, Dick had forgotten exactly who it was that was giving him the affection. Dick couldn’t afford to forget himself, couldn’t afford to let his walls down, couldn’t afford to get close to the world’s most notorious werewolf hunters. 

Dick shook himself, trying to find the fear and rage that had sustained him for weeks, but it slipped out of his grasp. It had only taken a few kind words from the various Waynes to have him melting, his instincts desperately wanting to hold on to the green connections that were forming to fill the emptiness inside of him. But Dick was a Fearless Flying Grayson, he was stronger than that, and he wasn’t going to dishonor his family by falling into pack bonds with the Waynes.

–

It turned out that no matter what his brain told him, his heart and his instincts held all the power, and they were very weak in the face of a family full of people trying to connect with him. 

Everywhere Dick turned in the next week, someone was lying in wait, trying to talk to him, asking him his interests, offering him snacks, touching him. It was everything Dick had been deprived of for so long, and this close to his first full moon as a newly powered werewolf, he couldn’t resist the offered compassion. It sent Dick crying to bed every night, knowing that he was betraying his family by accepting what the Waynes were giving him. 

As he locked himself in the room on the night of the full moon, the large white orb rising slowly in the distance, Dick knew that his wolf would not think him in hostile territory or react with fear. Instead, as Dick transformed into a puppy, with dark fur and bright blue eyes, he buried himself into his nest, keening not only for the comfort of his lost pack but also the one that was starting to form around him. 

The rest of the night passed in a haze of tired circlings of his room, desperately burrowing into his parents’ things, and sinking his teeth into a log he’d managed to smuggle inside his room the day before. It was nothing like the warm, comfortable, full moons he’s spent with his parents, sneaking out to the forests around the trailer to run and play underneath the bright moonlight. 

By the end of the night, Dick was exhausted and miserable and tired, but he’d done it, he’d made it past the full moon safely.

The morning after, Dick awoke to a whole flood of new inputs, smells, and sounds that he’d never registered before. His head spun slightly, disoriented by the smell of bacon cooking infused with a heavy spray of deodorant. Loud pop music blared from one side of the manor, and Dick could hear a phone conversation Damian was having somewhere outside. 

He vaguely remembered his mama telling him that he would come into his full senses once he passed his first full moon as an adult wolf. Those senses weren’t supposed to come to him for at least another couple of years, let alone the rest of the instincts that were racing through him, but the deaths of his parents must have triggered the change sooner than expected, a way for his wolf to try and protect him from the trauma. There was so much that Dick didn’t know about himself, the changes he was going through. His mama had promised to tell him everything when he got old enough, but that had been years away when she had sworn, and now, Dick was floundering. 

Dick was alone, and there was no one he could turn to ask for help. 

Unless…

It took several minutes of turmoil and back and forth before Dick decided to bite the bullet and try his luck. After all, if he couldn’t ask his adoptive werewolf hunting family about werewolf habits, then who could he ask?

But it wasn’t like Dick could just stroll up to them, and outright ask Bruce, “I know that your entire family is a group of werewolf hunters, and I need advice on how to be a werewolf, what have you got for me? ”

Dick figured that out of all the people he’d met in the last week, Tim would be the most helpful. The third oldest of the Waynes, he was more distant to the family than the rest, but it was obvious that he was the sharpest. Dick was actually worried that he would be the one to catch on about Dick’s furry side, but he’d eaten dinner with the family twice now and had yet to set the dogs on Dick. 

Werewolves weren’t a secret, but they also weren’t a topic of public discussion most of the time, so Dick would have to bring it up carefully. The only link between Dick and werewolves (that the Waynes knew about, at least) was the fact that Bruce had told him about his own family’s attack when he’d come to adopt Dick. It wasn’t the strongest point, but anything more would lead to too many questions that Dick couldn’t risk. 

Dick wasn’t naive, he knew that there were bad werewolves, just like there were bad humans, but it still hurt to hear the stigma forced onto every wolf, just because of the actions of some angry people. He would have to bear it though if he wanted to learn about the expected behaviors of adult werewolves. It wasn’t common practice to trust human’s knowledge of the supernatural, but the Waynes probably didn’t become the best hunters through luck. So Dick shoved down the side of him protesting loudly at the horrible implications of his questions as he approached Tim in the library and asked, 

“Can you tell me about werewolves?” 

Dick got a sharp, suspicious look back in return, and he shrunk away, panic flooding him again. He wondered if this was the step too far- if maybe he’d exhausted his credibility with Tim, but Tim looked discomfited at Dick’s reaction.

“Why do you want to know?” he finally asked, and Dick sighed inwardly in relief. The plan wasn’t lost yet.

“Um, when Bruce came to the orphanage, he told me a story. About his parents.” Dick tried carefully, watching Tim’s reaction closely. To his surprise, Tim seemed resigned and dropped his head back as he groaned in exasperation.

“Oh my god, he didn’t! I tell that man, ‘go to therapy maybe’, ‘talk to someone’, and he ends up trying to trauma-bond with a nine-year-old!” Tim threw his hands into the air, shooting a commiserating look at Dick. Dick giggled a little at the dramatics, and Tim smirked back at him, patting the seat next to him. “I’m sure he’s probably got your little mind spinning though, so ask me anything- I’m somewhat of an expert.” 

Dick had to hold back his laughter at the irony of the situation.

“Okay, um, what can you tell me about werewolf behaviors?” It wasn’t exactly what Dick wanted to know, but there was no way to approach the topics he needed without arousing suspicion. 

“I can tell you a lot, but I probably shouldn’t. Don’t want to send you screaming with nightmares into Damian’s room. Or wait, actually…” Tim was clearly joking, but Dick knew that he would have to dig to get the good stuff out of him.

“I don’t get scared easily,” Dick asserts, sitting up a bit taller. “Knowledge is the best weapon, right? I just want to know.”

Tim sighed. “There’s no need for a weapon, kid. Believe me, when I promise you, nothing is going to hurt you while you’re a part of this family. Nothing can get close enough.”

Dick bit his lip. Tim was being far more resistant than Dick had expected, and he wondered why he’d had a sudden change of heart. He figured that Tim realized that he didn’t want Dick involved with the big, dangerous werewolves, or for Dick to realize that they were involved with werewolves, but it was too late for either of those things at this point. 

“Well, it’s not like someone is always going to be around. Plus, I’m not looking for trouble, I just want to know.” Dick blinked his eyes, wide and innocent, in that way that his da had sworn would get him the moon from the sky if he asked.

Tim held his dour look for a moment more before melting and finally giving in.

“Okay, okay, fine! Stop looking at me like I drowned your puppy, jeez.” Dick grinned brightly. Dick: one, Tim: zero. 

“Look, werewolves are dangerous creatures. I want you to promise me to come and tell us immediately if you ever think you’re in trouble.” Dick nodded fervently, wanting to just move on to the important part already. Tim eyed him closely before he moved on.

“So, I don’t know what you’ve heard of werewolves, but it’s probably wrong.” 

‘Unlikely.’ Dick thought.

—

By the time Dick exhausted all his questions, Tim giving him as many answers as he could, the sky was orange with the setting sun, sending low rays into the room. Dick’s head was full of information that he mostly thought was right because he heard things his mama had told him here and there. There was so much to know about his pack instincts, his senses, and most dangerously, his newly increased sensitivity to various materials and foods. He remembered his parents having to avoid so many more things than he did, and now that he was the only one in his pack, and forcibly pushed into werewolf adulthood, he would have to suffer all those things as well. Dick had made sure to make appropriately worried and terrified noises as Tim had explained everything, but he was still concerned about Tim remembering the symptoms of a brand new wolf if Dick ever slipped up.

“Is that everything? What, are you planning on writing a book or something?” Tim asked when Dick finally slowed down. Dick smiled sheepishly, “Sorry to take up all your time.” 

Tim pushed up from his seat, pulling Dick’s hoodie over his eyes teasingly. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Just stay out of trouble.”

—

The trouble started that night at dinner.

Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Dick were at their usual places, and Tim and Duke had joined them at Alfred’s insistence. Their plates were set with the usual dishes, but when Dick picked up his fork, it clattered out of his hand in a burning flash of pain. Dick stared down at his hand, horrified, and everyone turned to look at him.

“S-sorry, it just slipped.” He excused quietly, and the conversations around him picked up again, but Dick was silent as he peeked at the bright red burn across his hand. It was the same set of silverware as always so why had- 

Silverware.

The dishes had never hurt Dick before, but the full moon had just passed, and it must have brought the hypersensitivity with it. Dick looked around to make sure that no one was watching him, and tried touching the silver fork again, but it only seemed to hurt worse this time. He wanted to cradle his hand, but he couldn’t risk it, and there was no way he’d be excused from dinner without a good reason, so Dick pulled his sweater cuff down and wrapped it around his hand. Carefully, he picked up the fork again, and when no wave of pain washed over him this time, he sighed in relief. 

The rest of dinner passed quickly, Dick quiet and careful. His sleeve slipped a couple times, and he had a few new burns to show for it, but no one had asked him any questions, and he took the victory. He slipped away once the last of the plates were cleared away, citing a long day, and rushed to lock his door.

When he pulled his sleeve away from his hand, Dick blanched at the sight. There was no denying the burnt red marks across his palm, vivid burn marks revealing the very truth of his being. Dick was a werewolf, and the concealment of the fact would not last forever.

Dick decided to ignore the impending doom of the future, a problem for Later-Dick. Instead, he went into the bathroom to find the antiseptic creams and bandages. He was fairly sure that with his advanced healing, there was no real danger of infection, but he had no way of knowing how fast he would heal, and he needed to at least be healed enough to act normal by tomorrow morning. 

As he tucked down in bed, hand carefully wrapped and cradled within his body, a pang of loneliness and misery shot through him. Whenever he’d gotten hurt before, even if it was just a paper cut, his mama would kiss it better, scold inanimate objects for hurting him, coddle him in bed, and he would heal surrounded by the comforting hold of his mama and da. 

A tear slipped down his face, as he lay there, alone, feeling oddly cold. 

Dick missed his parents. 

__

A few weeks later, Dick sat at the breakfast table, sipping a cup of orange juice, when Alfred placed a plate in front of him. It was a piece of Alfred’s delicious handmade bread, but it was much darker than usual and topped with a healthy helping of avocado. Avocado was one of those fancy foods that Dick had taken a liking to when he’d been introduced to it at the Manor. Jason had shown him how the dark peel had a bright green fruit inside, and Dick had initially recoiled at the odd color but had tentatively taken the slice that Jason had offered and realized that he quite liked it. After that, Alfred had jumped on the chance to get some form of greens into Dick, and the fruit was incorporated into many forms of dishes. 

So when Dick happily picked up the toast and took a huge bite, he wasn’t expecting the feeling dangerbaddangerbad that washed through him. Dick looked around, but the rest of the people at the table didn’t seem to look any different, so Dick shrugged and kept eating. He washed down the off taste with his juice that he’d helped Alfred squeeze out that morning, and when he finished, he stood up to take his plate to the kitchen. Dick only made it a few steps before he wobbled on his next step, and he fell to the ground, his plate shattering next to him.

The sound of concerned shouts barely reached him through the haze in his head. He felt himself being pulled up, but he ripped himself out of the arms around him and turned his head to the side as his stomach roiled and he spilled his breakfast onto the hardwood floors. Warm, strong arms wrapped around him again, lifting him out of his mess, and Dick curled into their comfort, wanting someone, anyone to make him better again.

When Dick regained his senses, he was lying on the plush couch in the living room just off the kitchen. A blanket was wrapped around him, saturated with the scents of the entire family, the scents of his pack. Even just being around the implication of ‘pack’ and ‘comfort’ and ‘family’ , Dick could feel his bonds singing with attention and the sick feeling fading. 

He pushed himself up, leaning up on his elbows to see Bruce sitting on the other end of the couch, a tablet in his hand as kept a light hand on the blankets above his ankle. The sight of the touch sent another wave of happiness through Dick.

“Dick!” Bruce looked up with a jolt, realizing that the kid was awake, “How are you feeling, chum?”

“Fine,” Dick said, realizing that he really did feel much better than he had earlier. “What happened to me?”

“Well, it’s not quite a sure thing, and we can get some bloodwork done to confirm, but it looks like you’re allergic to rye. It was the only new thing on the table, Alfred had made a different type of bread than usual, and it looks like it reacted badly with you.”

Rye. Werewolves couldn’t stand rye, and it looked like Dick wasn’t going to get away without its effects either. But-

“No doctor!” Dick cried, half of his panic real, half faked to play it up. There was no way that Dick could spend any amount of time with a doctor without his secret coming out. “I hate needles, and I trust you, I won’t eat any rye, please don’t make me go to the doctor, please, Bruce!”

Bruce laughed lightly, holding his hands up in surrender, “Alright Dick, no doctor. You’re going to need a physical at some point, but I won’t bug you about that just now. I’m just glad you’re okay. I guess purging your system of it seemed to clear you right up, but take it easy for the rest of the day, alright Dick?”

Dick nodded in agreement, falling back into the couch with a huff of relief. 

Bruce rose from his seat and walked to the other end of the sofa, and Dick followed him with his eyes, eyes that widened as Bruce bent close and pressed a kiss to the top of Dick’s head.

Dick froze, and Bruce almost flailed backward, clearly panicked.

“I- I’m sorry Dick, I didn’t mean to- It’s just habit- You were- I’m so sorry.” Bruce nearly ran out of the room, but Dick was still rooted to the spot he’d been left in, eyes staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling. 

When Bruce had kissed him, Dick’s heart had soared at the loving touch, but as he had breathed in deeply, trying to take in as much of Bruce’s raw scent as he could, the usually comforting smell was overpowered by the stench of pain and fear and blood . Werewolf blood.

The worst part was that even with the contaminants infused in it, Bruce’s scent soothed Dick, sending the same wave of calm through him that his mama’s once had. As Bruce walked out of the room, unaware that his youngest adoptee knew exactly what he had been doing all night, Dick curled in on himself.

He should feel nauseous, repulsed, scared of the people he’s bonded himself to, but none of those swirled through him. Bruce, and probably a couple more of his kids, were out all night, hunting down and killing werewolves, killing Dick’s kin without a second thought, and there was not even a spark of fear alighting within him. Dick hated himself, he hated that he was so weak, so pathetic, that the only pack he could make were people who would slit his throat if they knew who he really was. He hated himself for finding comfort in them, for letting them get close to him, and hated himself for not hating them. 

—

The passing of the second full moon was in a way both better and worse than the first. 

His wolf yearned to run free, to play in the light of the moon, which pulled and called at him harder than ever before. Dick had had the foresight to wedge a chair under his door handle, preventing himself from breaking out, and stopping anyone else with ‘good intentions’ from coming in to check on him. He’d sacrificed one of his pillows as he’d shoved his snout in it to muffle the howls breaking free, the feathers flying everywhere as his fangs dragged through the fabric. His fur was all over his nest, coating the mattress and the blankets all in black. 

While the urge to escape his self-containment was high, Dick had managed to sneak in the blanket that sat on the living room couch, and he’d luxuriated in the scent of his pack all night. It would have been so much better if he could have cuddled with the people to who the scents belonged, but Dick couldn’t have that; he didn’t deserve it anyway. Pack cuddles were for those who had had appropriate werewolf packs, not bad wolves that forcibly bonded themselves to werewolf hunters. 

In the morning Dick stood in the middle of the mess of his room, berating his overexcited wolf for the activities of the night before. He thought back to when he’d bound out of his family’s trailer in the mornings after the moon, leaving behind the mess for his mama to deal with, and sent a note of regret to her, apologizing for his behavior. Dick looked around, and he knew that he would have to clean up by himself; as much as he hated dismantling a perfectly fine nest, he couldn’t leave it up. Plus, the damage was too obviously wolf-like to let anyone else into his room until he took care of things.  

He heaved a put-upon sigh and started stripping his sheets. Being a secret werewolf was so much more work than Dick had expected.

__

The night before had imbued into him a buzzing energy that he just couldn’t ignore, and after breakfast, Dick decided to head outside; maybe a run around the grounds would help. His wolf tried to push his way to the forefront, to take advantage of the open outdoors and the bright sun, but Dick knew that there was no way a dark-haired werewolf puppy running around the grounds would be missed in the light of the day. That didn’t stop him from tucking the idea of a midnight run into the back of his mind though. 

Dick started out on a light stroll, taking his time to feel the soft, well-manicured grass underneath his feet. It’s not that he really minded shoes, but he missed the feel of the earth underneath his feet. In the circus, most of his time was spent in the air, or on ropes, and he never wore shoes there for his own safety. The rest of his time was spent clambering over the animals, especially Zitka, and none of them would tolerate him stepping on them with shoes anyway. The grass was sun-warmed and Dick smiled as each step left a light imprint before the blades sprung back into position. Dick had missed this. 

When he’d gotten far away enough from the manor that he had to strain to hear the sounds of the inhabitants inside, Dick grinned brightly and dropped to the floor. He braced his legs in a runner’s start position, hearing his mama’s voice in his head as she would count off the race between him and his da. Dick took off like a shot, laughter bubbling out of him as he raced through the wooded land faster than he’d ever been able to move before. He jumped over fallen logs and zigzagged around trees nimbly, and this far from the house, he let his teeth fall forward and he dropped into a half shift, standing up taller and wider. Dick barely bit down on the joyous howl that threatened to slip out of him, his wolf ecstatic at the freedom after months of captivity. 

The celebration was cut short, however, as Dick slammed into something that brought him to a dead halt. He fell to the ground, groaning in pain and heaving for the breath that had been punched out of him by the forceful stop. The sky was bright and mocking above him, the blue sky fading in and out of his vision as he took stock of himself. There was nothing wrong with him, he’d just gotten the wind knocked out of him, and any bruises and scratches from hitting the ground had already faded. The unrestrained sprint had sapped the excess energy out of him though, and Dick felt wonderfully exhausted. A gentle breeze blew over where he was lying, and Dick yawned widely, feeling his fangs pop as he did. 

Before he could think it through, the comforting smell of the earth and the warm sun on his skin had lulled him to sleep.

__

“Richard!”

“Dick! Where are you?”

“Dick!” 

“Oh my god, do you think they got him?” “Jason- don’t.”

“DIIIICK!”

Dick’s ear twitched, and he groaned lightly as he heard someone, several someones, calling out for him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and smacked his dry mouth, looking around to figure out where he was. The sky was streaked with pink and orange and the light breeze had turned into a chilled wind. Dick shivered lightly as he sat up fully, and he realized that he must have fallen asleep where he’d fallen. 

He could hear the calls for him getting closer, and Dick got to his feet, brushing the leaves and dirt off of his clothes when his hand bumped against something. Dick turned his hand to brush away the bark that must have scraped off the tree, but there was nothing on his hand. In fact, there was nothing behind him either. Stepping carefully forwards, Dick raised his hand slowly, reaching for the empty space that he’d hit and his palm stopped flat against an invisible wall. He traced his hand in a large circle, but the barrier seemed to continue indefinitely in either direction. It took a moment for him to recall what Tim had said, but he finally remembered the description of mountain ash, a powder made of a specific wood that repelled werewolves, that could be used to create a barrier to keep wolves away. 

Dick scrambled away from the barrier, not sure if it would hurt him if he touched it too long. Tim had said that the manor was surrounded in it, had told Dick to soothe his ‘fears’, to promise him that no werewolves would be able to get into the Wayne grounds. But somehow, a wolf had gotten onto Wayne grounds, and now, he was trapped there. 

“Dick!”

The boy turned away from the border, the edge of his freedom, and ran towards the voices. He couldn’t be found at the exact point werewolves were supposed to be trapped, there was no reason for him to stop there when the Wayne grounds extended past that point. Dick had the horrifying thought that now he was well and truly trapped. In the past two months, Dick had gotten too comfortable, let his guard down, and now, he had no way of escaping the Waynes come the day his secret was revealed.

Dick tripped over a root, falling with a whump into the arms of a worried Bruce, who fussed anxiously over him. At that moment, however, Dick understood with a painful clarity that the only way he was going to ever be able to cross the mountain ash barrier again would be when he was dead. 

__

Chapter Text

The third full moon approaches with a certain air of finality. Dick has been losing control more and more often, running away from interactions with the family right in the middle of sentences to hide his dropped fangs or flashing eyes. More than one pair of pants have been trashed when he slashes through them with his claws, and he hasn’t been able to keep any of the spiced, cooked, meat down anymore. 

Yet, Dick has managed to hide his true nature from his- the family. 

That’s coming to an end now, Dick knows, most likely a bloody end. 

The night before the full moon, Dick can feel his wolf fighting to get out. This time, there will be no consoling it with the scents of pack or desperately racing around his bedroom. The moon is calling to Dick stronger than ever, and nothing short of letting his full wolf out and running under the moonlight will satisfy its urges. 

Dick doesn’t know what will happen when the Waynes find out the truth about him. He’s had vivid, nauseating nightmares about it, but there’s only a day left until he’ll find out the reality. Some part of him wants to throw himself at their feet, to beg for their mercy. But Dick doesn’t want to hear them deny it, and there’s no way a Fearless Grayson goes out anything but fighting. 

Dinner is harder to get down than usual; the silver burns even through his sleeve cuff, and Alfred seems to have added something to the dinner stew that is burning a hole through his stomach. His diet in the past month has whittled down to prepackaged snack bars and energy drinks, and he knows that the others have been concerned about it. If Dick didn’t know that he was going to out himself the next day, he’d be worried about getting dragged to a doctor.

He excuses himself from the table, painfully staggering back to his bedroom, and collapses against the locked door. Dick just wants to curl up and cry, preferably in the arms of one of his pack, but he knows that being comforted today is not worth the revulsion he’ll see tomorrow, so he crawls slowly into bed, waiting for the night to be over. It’s his last night there, his last night with the Waynes, his last night alive. He has the fleeting thought that even criminals on death row are allowed a final meal, but his did nothing except expedite his death.

The morning of the full moon, Dick wakes up early enough to see the sunrise over the grounds. He leans against his window frame, feeling the fresh breeze against his skin. He can hear the sounds of the family waking up; the house is full today, everyone at home for once. He tries not to think about what it means for him, for tonight. Dick still has time.

By the time he dresses and makes his way down to the dining room, the house is full of activity. Everyone looks tense, but no one says anything to him, so Dick figures the problem isn’t anything to do with him. The table is set with a simple breakfast, or as simple as it gets with Alfred, anyhow. Various scones and jams are spread out, and everyone as always is encouraged to eat at least one of the fruits offered. 

Dick is tired, the call of the moon becomes near irresistible right before the full moon, and suppressing his every instinct as they are actively becoming stronger is harder than it seems. He rests his head on a hand as he uses his teeth to tear into a dry scone, dipping it savagely into a pot of peach jam. He’s not in the mood to burn his hands on any of the silverware right now, and no one seems to be paying him any attention anyhow. 

“Do you have any plans for the day?” Bruce asks, and Dick jerks out of his thoughts, blinking to clear his head. 

“Oh, no. Not really. Maybe a movie or something.” Dick replies, trying to come up with something generic to placate Bruce’s curiosity.

“It’s been a busy month for us so far, but it should hopefully settle down in the next day or two.” Bruce muses.

It’ll settle down because Bruce, and the rest of the family will spend the full moon and the day after hunting down every werewolf in Gotham City and its surrounding areas, a list of casualties that will likely include Dick this time. 

“Maybe we can have a proper movie night once it’s all over,” Jason suggests casually, and it’s all Dick can do to smile fakely at him. Dick doesn’t think he’s fooled anyone with his plastic grimace, but then again they all seem too preoccupied to notice.

Dick loses a bit of time of his own, staring off into the distance, because the next time he remembers to blink, Jason is the only one left at the table, nose stuck in the book he must have smuggled past Alfred. Jason and Dick have very opposing views when it comes to reading. Dick suffered through it obligatorily while Jason devoured more books in a week than Dick has seen in a lifetime. Jason has spent many, futile hours trying to convince Dick that the books are always better than the movies. But Dick's only seen the movies -- thanks to Duke picking classics on movie night -- and Dick loves them too much to consider any different. Jason promised that he would get Dick to read Emma if he had to sit on him, but Dick doubts that will happen now. 

“Jason,” Dick starts impulsively. He doesn’t know what he meant to say; ‘goodbye’ would be too obvious, but Dick can’t leave without saying something .

Jason pops his head up out of his book. “Huh?” The older boy waits patiently for Dick to gather his thoughts.

“I- Do you want to read Pride and Prejudice with me later? You can explain the important details and stuff…” The smile that shines across Jason’s face as he excitedly agrees is almost blinding. Just as good as a goodbye, Dick thinks, as he walks out of the dining room, waving to Jason for the last time.  

The rest of the day passes more quickly than Dick wants. There are no big ‘last day’ things he wants to do, so he spends time in various rooms of the Manor, reminiscing the times he’s spent with various members of the family. The first time he’d played a game of checkers with Bruce in his study, the midnight snack raids with Jason in the kitchen, baseball outside with Duke, video game tournaments with Tim and Steph. 

Dick likes to think that his mama and da would be happy for him, that he’d found such a nice pack. He hopes that wherever they are, they don’t think Dick has betrayed them by making a new pack of hunters. They’re nice to him, and they are good people outside of it all. The traitorous voice in the back of his head that’s been telling Dick that his parents would hate him for what he’s done is quieter now, but Dick supposes he’ll find out soon enough. It’s only late afternoon, but he can see the full moon peak out in the sky, readying itself for its big appearance tonight. 

He wants to say goodbye to everyone, or at least see a kind look from them one last time, but he can’t seem to find anyone. Dick checks the usual rooms he comes across, but no one seems to be in the Manor at the moment. He wonders suddenly why everyone seems to have vanished when he bumps directly into Alfred. 

“Woah!” Dick teeters backward, but before he can fall to the ground, a firm grip catches his arm and he’s pulled back to standing. 

“Do watch where you are going, Master Dick,” Alfred says with a small smile, the tray he holds in his other hand is entirely undisturbed. Of all the people in the house, Dick thinks that Alfred was the hardest to hide from. Scarily intelligent and more competent than the rest of them put together, Alfred also had the advantage of preparing the foods the Dick couldn’t keep down and cleaning the room that he occasionally left in pieces. Alfred has likely attributed his behaviors to a newly orphaned child lashing out, but Dick is just grateful that he still trusts him enough not to ask too many questions. 

“Sorry Alfred,” Dick grins sheepishly. “I was just looking for… well anyone, really. Where did everyone go?”

“Oh, there was a business emergency that they are attending to, but they should be back by dinner,” Alfred explains. 

While it’s public knowledge that all of Bruce Wayne’s kids worked at his non-profit, Dick knows that it’s actually just a cover for their werewolf hunting. He doesn’t dare think what kind of ‘emergency’ comes in the business of hunting. Alfred must see the disappointment written across his face because he’s quick to ask, “Did you need something? Can I help?”

Dick shakes his head. How can he explain to Alfred that he just wants to see them all, just to reassure himself that they honestly do like him before they find out what he really is? 

Alfred fiddles with Dick’s collar, pressing the errant fold down flat, and runs a satisfied hand over Dick’s shoulder. Dick freezes. Alfred, unknowingly, just scented Dick in the most familiar of places. It’s the exact same way his mama had scented him for the last time before she died. Dick bites down on his lip so the sob building in his throat doesn’t escape, and shifts to lean into Alfred’s grip. 

“Thank you, Alfred.”

There is a mutual understanding that Dick is saying his thanks for so much more than just fixing his collar, but there are no more words exchanged; Dick has nothing more to say. 

He turns away, silent tears dripping down his face, and almost runs back to his room. Dick doesn’t bother to lock his door, he’s not going to be in the room for long. He’s planning on shifting before the moon forces it out of him, and he doesn’t want to be trapped- to be killed -in the room he’s come to see as his den.

The sun is setting outside, the sky painted with the warm colors of dusk, and Dick takes in the view of the Manor grounds from his room one last time before he opens the window and uses his claws to pull the screen out. He backs out of the window, climbing feet first and then hanging from the windowsill before he finally drops to the ground, landing with a quiet thud in the flowerbed. Dick cringes at the feel of flowers under his feet and mentally apologizes to Alfred. 

Dick takes one last deep breath as a human, and when he exhales, he is a small wolf pup, burrowing out of the clothes he wore just seconds before. Without a second glance backward, Dick takes off running, heading straight for the woods. 

Damian has a lot on his mind. He always does, what with the constant threats that his family receives and the pressure of maintaining a public persona distracting enough to throw off any suspicious parties. The only time where he doesn’t feel like he’s constantly struggling to meet standards is when they’re on a hunt because Damian knows he’s good, he’s the best. His mother trained him how to identify werewolves and the best ways to restrain them, take them down, take them out. 

But recently, Damian knows he’s floundering in yet another aspect of life, and he doesn’t like the feeling. Damian prides himself on being a good oldest sibling. He’s not the one to baby the kids of the family or be their friend, but he’s strong and supportive and always knows how to make them feel safe. The issue is that Bruce’s latest stray, Richard, has been running hot and cold for three months now. 

Every time Damian thinks that he’s finally got a handle on how to deal with him, the boy runs away from him, gets a panicked look on his face that sends weeks of effort spiraling. It’s almost a one step forward, three steps back process with him, and Damian doesn’t know how to be better for him. Duke tells him not to worry, that the boy is simply trying to adjust from the trauma of losing his parents so violently, and then being displaced from the only place he’s ever known as home. Damian can relate to that, or at least, he thought he could.

Once, Damian had found Richard huddled in a corner of the living room during a particularly aggressive thunderstorm, crying softly for his mother. He’d gathered up the boy carefully, and placed him on the sofa before settling next to him. Sleeping was the hardest, Damian knew. It was the time when you were the most vulnerable, when you retreated to your safest place, and a change of environment could make it all the harder to find enough safety to sleep. Damian had said nothing, just sat there, near enough that Richard could feel his presence, but not close enough to touch. The rain had poured outside the window, its sound now calming and gentle, and Damian had watched as the panicked breaths had slowed, Richard slipping into sleep. 

Damian had pulled his favorite blanket, the one his mother had left with him so many years ago, and tucked it around Richard, hoping the soft wolf fur would be comforting to the boy as it had always been for him. But Richard had suddenly jerked upright, all signs of sleep gone. The boy had looked around, confused, before retching lightly, and running out of the room and to his own bedroom. It had left Damian perplexed; he had followed after the boy, but when he’d knocked on the door, he’d only received a placating, “I’m fine.” through his door. 

Richard has moments in which it feels like he is part of the family like he’s settled in; but the moments can flip in a second, and he will run out, leaving behind confusion in his trail. Damian is considering bringing up therapy to Father because it doesn’t look like Richard would be able to fully accept his new situation until he properly processed his trauma. 

The past few days have been a string of good days, however, which Damian is very thankful for. There are things much more worrisome than an unsettled twelve-year-old that plague Damian. 

It is not unexpected for the Waynes to receive threats from various werewolves, demanding recompense and vengeance for the deaths of their kin, but none have ever been a genuine danger. This group, however, who call themselves the Titans, are a threat the levels of which they’ve never seen before. An entire group of vicious werewolves, all hellbent on destroying the Waynes and what they stand for, and who know the identities of every hunter in their family; Damian can only be grateful that Richard is still new, that no wolves have been able to catch his scent yet. They have yet to make contact, but every time the family has gone out to hunt in the past couple of months, there have been challenges and attempts on their lives at every turn. The feral werewolf itself used to be the most dangerous part of hunting, but now, it’s the Titans. The werewolves that do not run from the Waynes, but instead stand facing them with weapons in hand. It’s an unsettling thing to know that someone is trying to kill them every time they step off their grounds. 

The full moon is tonight, and the family has never once missed a full moon hunt, not when it’s the most dangerous time of month for wolves to be roaming free. Their instincts to kill and savage humans are at an all-time high, and they are a danger to anyone around them. Damian has been planning with Bruce and Duke for this full moon for ages now. They have a plan, and they are prepared to take down the Titans as well as any other rogue wolves they come across. 

Everyone has spent the day in the cave, preparing for tonight’s attack, and the sun is setting as Damian finally emerges back upstairs, rubbing out a kink in his neck as he goes. Damian knows he’s been running himself down recently, trying to keep up with all his commitments, but there is no room for rest, no room for mistakes in the life of a hunter. Damian will breathe when the Titans are taken care of when he can know that his family is safe. 

He finds Alfred in the kitchen, making a healthy dinner that will give them all the energy they will need. Damian plucks a carrot out of the grazing bowl on the counter and leans back.

“Can I help you with anything, Alfred?” Damian asks, already knowing the answer. Of his many talents, cooking is not one of them, but he was raised to be polite, so he always asks. 

“No, that’s quite alright Master Damian.” Alfred looks hesitantly over at Damian before he continues. 

“If I could get a moment of your time, however.”

“Of course, Alfred,” Damian promises, hopping off the counter he wonders what Alfred could possibly need that has him so wary to ask. 

“If you could check in on Master Dick? He seemed a bit out of sorts this morning and he was looking for you all this afternoon.” Alfred explains, not stopping his preparations for a second, but there is an odd look on his face that Damian finds familiar. 

Damian frowns; he knows that Richard is still having a hard time finding his place with them, but he had hoped that they were finally on an upward trend. 

“Of course, I can, Alfred. Did he say what he needed?” Damian asks, already calculating the best way to get Richard to talk to him. 

Alfred shakes his head, “He merely expressed curiosity about your whereabouts. He seemed distressed when I told him it was a business issue. Perhaps you can give him a more satisfactory explanation.” 

Cringing slightly, Damian nods. It might be too soon to introduce Richard to the idea of their being werewolf hunters, but it’s probably not a bad idea to give him some further insight on why the entire family went missing so often. Damian realizes that from the perspective of someone who’s not aware of their true nature, it might be hurtful to think that everyone is actively avoiding them.

Damian makes his way upstairs slowly, trying to figure out what exactly he's going to say to the young boy. Father hasn't discussed his thoughts on the idea yet, but Damian knows him too well. Father would go from zero to one hundred far too fast and Richard simply wasn't ready for that. 

He stops outside Richard's door and knocks twice calling out, “Richard, it's Damian. Can I come in? I just want to talk to you about something.” A minute passes and there is no response. Damian squints dubiously and knocks again, projecting louder, “Richard, are you there?”

Damian hesitates but his instincts are screaming at him, so he tries the doorknob. It clicks open and Damian's heart sinks into his stomach. Richard never leaves his door unlocked; Damian didn't know if it’s some measure of privacy or for safety, but anytime someone wants to enter Richard's room, the boy would come out and open the door himself. It is not a good sign that Damian made it through without permission or breaking in. 

As Damian stepped further into the room, he looked around, quickly cataloging everything that was in the room. Damian didn't know what the boy's usual mess looked like- Alfred would have better knowledge- but Damian was sure that Richard did not regularly tear out his window screen and leave it lying in the middle of his room. Damian rushes to the window, careful not to disturb anything as he goes. Taking a deep breath to ground himself, Damian leans out of the vandalized window. He looks down to see a pile of children's clothes, the same clothes that Richard had worn to breakfast that morning, lying in the flower bed just beneath the window. 

Damian staggers backward, heart hammering in his chest as he calls out loud and panicked for his father, for his siblings. Someone had taken Richard right from under their noses.  

–

The moon is large and bright in the sky as the Waynes work fervently to analyze the scene of the crime. Time is of the essence, but with no clue where to start, they need to tear apart the room to figure out their next steps. Duke finds marks of a hand and shoe prints on Richard's windowsill. Stephanie identifies the slashes on the ripped-out window screen as claw marks, and Tim seethes angrily as he picks up Richard's clothing to secure into an evidence bag so they can test it for foreign materials.

Damian has already torn the panic room apart, but the door swung open easily under his hand, and it didn’t look like anyone had gone in. There is no notification of lockdown, no reassurance, that actually, Richard is just hiding out in a place he deems safe. He remembers promising Richard that he would be safe here, that there was no reason for him to be afraid, and yet, the boy has been stolen away from the safety of his home and they have no idea where to even start looking. 

There is very little conversation beyond pointing out any new clues that are spotted because there is only one thing on everyone's mind: the more time they waste here, the longer Richard is in the hands of someone who means him harm. 

Jason stands at the door to Richard's room clutching the door frame tight. Jason has always been the baby of the family; even Damien will admit to coddling him at times. He might act young, slightly immature, but Jason is almost sixteen; he's not a child and he knows what the situation looks like. 

His voice is thick with anger and choked back tears, “He was supposed to read with me. We were gonna hang out tomorrow. We made plans-” an angry sob bursts through, and everyone looks up in concern. 

Duke steps away from where he's testing for fingerprints on the side table and places a firm, grounding hand on Jason's shoulder. “We’ll get him back, Jason. We're going to do everything we need to find him and he's going to be fine.” 

Jason, however, shrugs off Duke’s hand, looking up at him angrily, “You can’t say that. I know what you’ve been trying to hide from me, you know? I saw those threats from the Titans. Who knows what they’re doing to Dick right now, while we’re just standing around here-”

“Jason.” Domain rebukes sharply. Jason knows as well as anyone that there’s no better way to track than from the point of disappearance, especially when they don’t have any other information to go off of. 

Jason storms off, refusing to hear any more platitudes, and Damian sighs, feeling defeated. His brother isn’t wrong- it feels useless to stand around processing while Bruce is scouring the Manor grounds, but it needed to get done. Now, though, even Damian can feel the impatient itching crawling up his back, and he makes an executive decision. 

“Alright, that’s enough. Stephanie, Duke, are we getting anything more out of the room?” He asks quickly, and when they both say no, Damian calls Tim, who is in the Cave, taking a fine-tooth comb to Richard's clothes. 

“Timothy, can you handle the evidence? I think it’s about time we get more feet on the ground.” Damian proposes. 

“Yeah, I’ve got this,” Tim mumbles distractedly, and Damian knows his brother enough to know that he’s focused over the microscope, probably running multiple tests at the same time. “You guys go look for Dick, I’ll keep you posted about any potential clues. B is on the west edge of the grounds, so a couple of you cover the rest, and someone should check the outside road for any tire tracks.”

Damian gives his agreement, and within minutes, they break away, strapping themselves with their weapons as they make their way outside. 

Duke stops Damian with a hand on his arm before he heads out, “What about Jason?” 

The oldest Wayne child sighs, looking back at the house, “I think it might be better if he wasn’t a part of this. He’s too emotionally compromised, and I don’t want him getting hurt. Alfred is there, he’ll be safe.” Damian wants to comfort Jason, to talk to him, but they don’t have time. Hopefully if- when they bring Richard back, he can set some time aside to have a proper chat with the boy. 

With that, Duke and Damian separate, and they move quickly to cover their area. If there are any werewolves involved in Richard’s disappearance, it could mean that their mountain ash barrier has failed and that only spells more danger. As soon as the kidnapping was discovered, Bruce had triggered the dispensers that sprayed poisonous wolfsbane and protective ash at the borders of their property, hopefully trapping whatever enemy made its way in within their boundary. The Manor’s security systems have also been triggered, and now no wolf can get within ten yards of it without writhing in pain. 

All they have to do now is search every inch of their grounds for Richard, and hope that they have reacted fast enough to contain the enemy on their turf. 

The rest of the night passes in a painfully empty series of check-ins. Hour after hour, the only thing that’s reported back is someone finishing the canvas of their section with no sighting of Richard. Occasionally, they hear from Tim, who only has bad news for them. He tells them that there were werewolf hairs found in Richard’s bedding, on his clothing, and Damian tries not to be physically sick at the implication of how they got there. Bruce is gruff and cold as they hear him interrogating wolves in Gotham City -not that any have anything helpful to say- but Damian can hear the fear and panic that he’s very carefully holding back. The rest do not have any news to relay either, but in this case, Damian knows that no news is bad news. 

In the clear night sky, the full moon blinks merrily down over the grounds, mocking him. Damian thinks he hears a lonely howl, but the call echoes in his ears, and he doesn’t hear it again.

–

Full moon hunts are always the most important part of a plan of attack. It’s when wolves are at their most basic, animalistic instincts, and Damian has always been taught that full moons are the best nights to hunt. Hunters hold not only the advantage of weaponry, but also nature itself is working against werewolves. The Wayne family has never missed a full moon hunt, no matter what. 

Never, except for tonight.

–

The sky is lightening as everyone trudges back to the Manor, heads hung in defeat. It’s been at least ten hours since Richard went missing, and they all know what those kind of statistics mean. Stephanie furiously kicks at a shrub, leaving a dent in it, and then stifles a scream of rage into Timothy’s shoulder, her anger and fear pulsating throughout them all. Timothy brings a hand around her shoulders in comfort, but he doesn’t have any hope to give, not anymore. 

“Did we hear anything from the Titans?” Duke asks Bruce tiredly, but the older man only shakes his head. Damian’s not sure if that’s a good sign or not, they don’t know how the Titans will react. Their plan had been offensive, not defensive. They had no idea that the Titans would stoop to stealing an innocent child in their play for power. Damian only hopes that they mean to use Richard as a bargaining chip, not as an example. He doesn’t want to imagine what the savage werewolves would do to a child that they think might know the secrets of their enemy, but his brain very helpfully provides the images anyway. The onslaught of blood-soaked imagery leaves Damian feeling shaken and dizzy for the first time in a long time. 

“DAD!” Jason’s fearful voice calling for Bruce snaps them all out of their exhaustion, and they turn towards the source of the call. Damian can barely make out Jason standing near the front gate, a scant few feet away from the mountain ash border. He’s looking at something on the ground, stepping back hastily and calling again, more panicked, “Dad! Dami!” and the two oldest put on a burst of speed, the other three not far behind them.

Damian stumbles to a stop just behind Jason and yanks him backward and away. The boy stumbles into Duke’s waiting arms, who’s staring wide-eyed at the werewolf pup lying just in front of them. Jason doesn’t look hurt, at least to Duke’s well-trained glance, but their first priority is getting the wolf under control. The wolf that’s… not attacking them. 

The werewolf, the puppy, really, for as small as the animal is, is breathing slowly, eyes shut as it lies unmoving. Damian stands warily above the creature, one hand on his weapon. He shoves at it lightly with his boot, and the animal just flops over, tail swishing in the dust as it shifts. 

“I don’t think it’s in any shape to hurt anyone…” Jason says finally, breaking the tense silence that has fallen over the group.

“How did it get inside?” Stephanie wonders and everyone looks up, suddenly realizing the implication behind her question. If this small wolf had made it past their barrier, then it was likely that it had been a part of the group that had kidnapped Richard. Within seconds, Damian has grabbed the wolf by its scruff, and he digs for an inhibiting collar in his bag. 

“Wait! Don’t kill it yet!” Tim intervenes, grabbing Damian’s hand. Damian only scowls at him, shrugging out of his grip to click the collar around the wolf’s neck. It will keep it trapped in its furry form until they can contain it properly.

“I know, Timothy. I’m not an idiot.” Damian’s tone is dark, intense, and Stephanie pulls Tim away. Tempers are high right now, and for good reason, but they’re not going to get anywhere if they get caught up in arguing within themselves. 

“Duke, take Jason back to the Manor-” “Hey!” “-and everyone else to the Cave,” Bruce orders quickly. He motions to Duke to stay with Jason, both to keep him away from what’s about to happen downstairs and to keep him safe in case there are any other wolves still lurking around. There shouldn’t be, not with how well they scanned the grounds, but the puppy might not be the only exception.

–

In the Cave, the creature is locked inside a protected cage, one that weakens the werewolf body and deprives them of the strength of the moon. It doesn’t move as they shut the door on it, but a tiny shudder rocks through its body as they step away. 

“Do you think he’s with the Titans?” Stephanie asks. Damian steeples his hands and leans his head into them sighing tiredly as he thinks. Werewolves are notoriously loyal, no-man-left-behind taken to the ultimate level, so it doesn’t exactly follow that this one was just abandoned. But the Titans are mostly an unknown; they have no measure of their values, of their morals, and maybe, leaving behind a sickly pup as a lure or as a distraction is exactly what they would do. 

“I’m not sure.” Damian finally says. He looks to Bruce for any guidance, advice, but the man is standing over the computer, trying to glare the results that Tim had pulled up earlier into any semblance of a further clue. 

Tim props his leg up on the chair next to him, flipping through a tablet with intimidating speed, “It doesn’t matter, does it? Somehow, a wolf got onto the property, and whether or not it’s connected with the Titans or- or Dick, we need answers.”

Damian starts to agree, but Stephanie interjects, “Wait, you can’t mean- that’s a puppy!”.

Bruce turns away from the computer and looks at Stephanie. “I know it looks like a puppy, Steph, but you do have to remember that it’s still a werewolf, nothing more. It’s the same as always, just smaller.”

Stephanie nods, but she turns away, and Damian can see the hesitance in her face. It’s true, they’ve never come across any werewolf pups. He assumes that per their pack-loyalty mentality, pups are left at the den with someone to protect them. What he doesn’t know is how desperate the Titans are. If it’s gotten to the point that they’re putting out their most vulnerable members on the line, then the hunters must have pushed them to their limits, they must be getting close. 

“You can leave, we can handle this.” Damian tries to say kindly. He knows that Stephanie hates being talked down to, hates when someone implies that she’s not strong enough for something, but she truly looks upset at the thought of using their usual questioning methods on this wolf. “Another sweep of the-”

“No.” Stephanie says, soft but firm. “I have to be here- I, I have to know.” Tim stands up and presses his shoulder against Stephanie’s, their hands linked together. 

Damian knows he’s going to have to be the one to interrogate the wolf. It does not bring him any joy either, to have to resort to such methods to get what he wants, but Richard has been missing for almost fourteen hours now, and they’re getting desperate. He goes to the table to pick up a set of manacles and a needle filled with wolfsbane, and turns back towards the cage, taking a deep breath to steady himself. 

The wolf puppy is awake now, and trembling fiercely in its enclosure. It looks around, panicked, and lets out a pained howl before it stops abruptly, pressing itself into the furthest corner of the cage. Damian's mind suddenly jumps to Ace and Titus, and he falters, but he can’t think like that, not when there is so much on the line, so he pushes himself forward, reaching through the bars of the cage with the needle in a steady hand. The wolf keens, whining pitifully. It’s shivering, scrambling out of Damian’s reach, who only sighs and stands up to walk around to the other side of the cage. 

In the moment between crouching at the side of the cage and walking around it to where the puppy is pressed, however, the occupant of the cage goes from a black and gray-furred shifted werewolf to a young boy. His face is streaked with tears and he curls into a fetal position, hiding his naked body from the sigh of the people surrounding him. His skin is prickled with goosebumps; it’s cold in the cave, especially without the fur to keep him warm any longer. When he raises his face, his eyes are red, and snot is dripping from his nose.

Damian staggers backward, and Tim swears loudly. A ragged gasp can be heard, likely Stephanie. 

“Please- don’t- not the cure, please. I won’t shift anymore just don’t give me- I can’t- please.” Richard begs them, hands coming up to grip the bars of the cage. 

The needle falls to the floor with a clatter, joining the manacles, and Richard’s eyes dart to follow its path, watching it roll to a stop right in front of the cage. Richard pushes back and away from the edge, from the needle. 

No one has said anything. They don’t know what to say. 

Dick looks up at his family through the bars of the cage. He wasn’t expecting to end up here, wherever ‘here’ was. The end was supposed to come out in the open, where Dick could taste the last of his freedom, but it seems like there was so much more pain in his future than Dick was expecting. Dick tries to wipe his face, but the mess of fluids only spreads, and he gives up. He tries to focus on breathing, in and out slowly until the panicked panting fades away.

The silence stretches, and Dick can’t take the anticipation anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He starts quietly, and he can see everyone startle across the wide room. They’re staring at him, expressions unreadable. “I didn’t mean to lie to you for so long. I really thought I’d be able to run sooner, or maybe you would find out on your own.” Dick can’t seem to stop talking, and he decides that if he’s going to die tonight, he might as well get everything he wants to say out. “I’ve been a werewolf all my life, my parents were my pack. When they died, I was all messed up. And then when Bruce came, well I knew who you were, my mama warned me about you. You’re like the boogeyman for werewolves.”

Bruce looks away, and Dick tilts his head, “The rest of you too, a whole family of the most dangerous werewolf hunters; and somehow I managed to get myself adopted into it. I really thought I wouldn’t last a day here, but I couldn’t spend another day in the orphanage either, it was wreaking havoc on my senses. I was kind of losing my mind there, after my pack died and I got all the powers I wasn’t supposed to get for years. In the middle of all of that, even going with you was an acceptable choice.” 

“And then when I got here, everyone was so nice. I thought it was a trap, that one day I would wake up in a cage- well, here I am now, I guess- but every day, you all just gave me so much love and I got a room of my own that didn’t smell like anyone else, and before I knew it, I had a new pack, a new family. I’m sorry for that too- I didn’t mean to do it, but it shouldn’t affect you when I die. At least I think so; I’ve never really heard of a werewolf with humans for a pack.” Steph falls into the chair next to her, her face wan and pale. Tim moves with her, leaning heavily against the table, but his eyes stay locked with Dick’s. Dick appreciates the respect. 

“It got harder for me to hide it recently because more and more of the full-wolf instinct was getting transferred, but I guess I still managed to get away with it. Last night’s moon was the last of the power though, and I couldn’t stay inside anymore, so this was supposed to be the last night.” Dick finishes finally, looking into everyone’s eyes, as he thanks them, like his parents taught him to do, “Thank you for letting me be a part of your family. I really loved being here, I- I love you all.”

Dick doesn’t get a single word in response, and he understands why, even though it hurts. 

“Why was this your last night?” Damian asks suddenly, voice scratchy and quiet, “Were you waiting for someone to come get you?” Dick thinks he sounds a bit desperate.

“No, I don’t even know who I would call?” He asks, confused, “This was my last night because once you found out I was a werewolf, you were- are going to kill me.” Damian makes a choked noise and he trips backward as he turns to face Bruce. 

Bruce shakes his head, vehemently almost, and Damian's shoulders slump with relief as he stumbles closer to the cage, knocking aside the manacles and needle as he goes to his knees in front of Dick.

“You- you weren’t going to fight back?” Damian asks, and Dick raises an eyebrow sardonically, “For one, I’m just a puppy, and you are the most powerful hunting family in America; and also, I actually really love you all, and I would feel really bad if I hurt you.” Damian’s mouth hangs open, almost comically, and Dick sniffles a wet laugh. He wishes that someone would stop him, that they would tell him that his time was up, because he couldn’t see a single clock, and he didn’t think he had much more left to say.  

Everyone is looking at Bruce now, and Dick follows their eyes to peek at Bruce’s reaction. He’s avoided looking at him so far because he remembers the history that Bruce told him. Dick thinks that he’s probably hurt Bruce the most, but he waits patiently for his final judgment. 

-

Bruce closes his eyes for a second, and he takes a deep breath before opening them back up. Damian is still kneeling in front of Dick’s cage, and Steph and Tim are holding tight to each other, and Bruce can see them trying to reconcile everything they’ve ever been taught with the boy they love as their youngest sibling. He looks into the eyes of his children, all of them, and Bruce knows that this is the most important thing he’ll ever say. 

-

Dick watches Bruce approach the cage, brushing a hand over Damian’s shoulder as he moves. Dick shifts backward, wary and hesitant. Bruce’s hands are empty, but Dick doesn’t doubt that he has weapons stashed on his body, or really, that Bruce needs anything more than his bare hands to take Dick out. It’s not subtle, though, because Dick can see them all tracking his every move, quiet and suspicious. A little giggle slips out of him, and Bruce looks confused at the impulse reaction. 

“I assumed that this is how the first day with you guys would go, I was just thinking-” Dick remembers suddenly, the way he’d been so terrified of making a wrong move, of their reactions, but all they had done was give him a warm place to sleep, make sure he knew that he was safe in his room. The laugh turns into a blubbery sob, “J-just, can you just do it?” Dick asks, finally, “I don’t want to w-wait anymore.” He’s begging and it’s pathetic, he knows. He hates to think what his mama must think of him right now, seeing him like this, but he’ll be with her soon enough, and he can apologize to her directly.

Bruce kneels in front of the metal bars and reaches out, and Dick closes his eyes tight. He can’t be brave, he can’t watch as Bruce-

There’s a metallic clank, and then a warmth around Dick. He carefully pries his eyes open and the gate on the cage is open, and Bruce’s thick leather jacket is around him. Bruce’s hand is stretched out in front of him, and Dick can see that he’s been careful not to touch Dick. The scent of Bruce, of pack, of home on the jacket floods his senses, and Dick can feel himself start to calm down immediately. 

Bruce must take the moment of re-acclimation as reluctance because he starts talking, low and soft. 

“Dick, I promise you, no one here ever wanted to hurt you. We love you. No one here will ever hurt you- from here on out.” Bruce sounds earnest, and he adds on the bit at the end because everyone knows that tonight has been nothing less than torturous for Dick. The werewolf sniffs softly; he doesn’t smell anything other than trustloveapology, and his senses might be fresh but even he can track a heartbeat for that tell-tale skip of a lie. Bruce’s heart is steady. 

With a small pained sound, Dick launches himself out of the cage and directly into Bruce’s arms. Bruce tilts backward as he takes Dick’s weight, but he stays upright, and Dick wraps his arms tight around him. The boy tucks his sticky face into Bruce’s neck, furiously scenting him, looking for comfort, and Bruce lets him, slowly smoothing a hand down Dick’s back, the other gripping Dick’s neck in a comfortably tight grip. 

The smell of Bruce, however, is contaminated with the scent of other wolves, and Dick jerks backward as he remembers how the smell would have gotten on Bruce. He doesn’t let him go far, though, and Dick keeps a hand on Bruce’s neck to feel his pulse directly as he questions him. 

“You’re still werewolf hunters, though.”

“Yes, we are.”

Truth.

“Do you force wolves to take the cure?”

“No.”

Truth.

“Would you have killed me if you didn’t know me?”

“...No.”

Lie.

Bruce must read the demand for honesty in Dick’s eyes because he goes on to explain himself.

“Dick, we thought that- that you had been taken by some very bad people, werewolves, who were trying to attack us. I was willing to do whatever I needed to so that I could find you, bring you back home.”

Truth.

“You mean a lot to us, Dick, even in such a short time, I can’t imagine this house, this family, without you,” Stephanie speaks up, voice rough and tired.

Truth.

“We only hunt down bad wolves that have gone feral, ones that are hurting people for no reason,” Tim adds.

Truth. 

“We- we never meant to hurt you, Richard. I’m sorry we didn’t connect the dots sooner.” Damian looks remorseful, and he’s not meeting Dick’s eyes, but his heart beats true, too.

Dick lets his hand fall from Bruce’s neck, and he drops his head against Bruce’s chest, suddenly so tired. 

“I’m a bad wolf,” he confesses quietly into the fabric of Bruce’s chest. 

“Why do you say that?” Bruce asks, no vehemence in his tone, just patience. 

“I wanted to bite the man that killed my parents. Wanted to tear his throat out with my teeth. I still do. Mama always told me never to hurt people, but I think he deserves it. I think that means I’m a bad wolf.” Dick lets the parts of himself he’s been hiding for so long -the deep, dark, angry parts- spill out. He wants to put everything on the table for Bruce to see. Dick doesn’t think he can go through another cycle of this brutal hide and seek. 

“That definitely doesn’t make you a bad werewolf, Dick. Not when we’ve been hunting down that man for months ourselves.” The answer comes firm and true, and Dick dares to look up at Bruce, who’s smiling softly down at him. Dick lets himself fall back into Bruce’s arms and the tight hug settles something within him. The wolf whines gently, calling more of his pack to him, and within moments, everyone else joins them, Damian and Tim and Steph running their hands over Dick, soothing him with just a touch. 

Dick is finally, fully, safe with his pack. He hopes his mama and da are happy for him. He’s going to have to wait to tell them everything else for a long while. 

Epilogue: 

The rain splatters onto the dirty ground, heavy and thick, each drop like a sharp little needle in the skin of the man who scuttles through the alley like a cockroach. He’s running from something that’s been tracking him for a while. He thinks he can outrun it, but he’s wrong, and he’s stupid because the next turn he makes is directly into a dead end. He’s trapped. 

The man whirls around with panic emanating off of him, the stench deep and repulsive. His gaze darts back and forth, trying to spot his enemy in the shadows of the night, but it’s useless. 

“Stay away!” He says, trying for threatening, but not sounding much more impressive than a child throwing a tantrum. “I have a gun, I’ll shoot!” He bluffs. The man is underestimating his opponent; it’s his biggest mistake. 

Menacing growls echo through the rain and off the walls of the alley, and then man scrambles backward. The scent of fear and urine floods the alley; pathetic.

The werewolf crawls forward, angry growls unstopping, and when the man spots it, he flinches back. Desperately, he digs through the trash next to him to try and find a weapon, but it’s pointless. 

Behind the werewolf, the mouth of the alley fills with six people, and the meager light from the streetlamps is blocked out. The only source of illumination in the remaining area is the bright red glow of the alpha werewolf's eyes.

The cowering man spots the crowd of people, recognizes their clothing, the weapons they hold, and begs for help.

“Hey! Hey, you! These things are your problem- aren’t you gonna do something about this?”

The tall one standing at the front tilts his head, considering, and smirks slowly. 

“Yes… he is.”

The people in the alley watch as the werewolf leaps and sinks his teeth into the monster’s neck, tearing sharply backward. Anthony Zucco’s body drops, and the werewolf stands over it in victory, the rain already washing the blood out of its fur. The wolf throws his head up and howls loudly, and his human pack joins alongside him.