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Chapter Text

...

The moon was full above him, his chest ached as he sat on the rooftop. A nasty cut was bleeding on his shoulder. He was too tired to bother. It had been a rough week, the full moon making it harder than usual to keep his emotions in check.

So used to be unseen by the public during this time he had forgotten it wasn't always true. This led to the cut but he was able to catch the criminal. He would deal with the consequences when the sun came up.

For now, he would rest, or at least try. His thoughts were plagued with a mixture of the past and the future. How long could he continue like this?

He wasn't like Beast Boy. His body could handle the strain for a while, but not forever. Robin had lost the weight he had gained while in Jump City. He was eating less and less to avoid the stares. Anything other than meat made him nauseous.

The urge to shift from human to wolf was there. Always present in the back of his mind but stronger with the full moon.

The thought of running with a pack, of not being alone, made his body ache. He missed his family. The feeling of his father's hand in his fur. His mother was the one the wolf side came from. No one remembered how they came about. But there were only a handful like him left. Most chose to stay wolves once they entered puberty rather than switching.

His mother was human most of the time from what he remembered. But every full moon, she would change into a massive black wolf.

"It's dangerous. There are people out there who want to hurt you," she had said when he asked why he couldn't shift. "You can't trust anyone but your pack. You have to stay hidden."

Robin knew her words were true. Even if the man had died, his mother had told him about the danger. A group that hunted his kind and kept them as pets.

He hid his true self from everyone. Even Bruce didn't know. Only Beast Boy, knew some things. The teen was the only person he felt he could talk to about the wolf. He just didn't understand what it meant.

He wanted a pack. It was lonely. His wolf side was becoming stronger. His human side was fighting a losing battle. He needed to run. Needed to feel the wind in his fur and the dirt under his paws.

The Titans were his friends but they didn't feel like a pack. Not like the circus had. The need was always present. The wolf in his mind wanted a family.

The wolf was starting to win. The full moon was affecting him more and more. He didn't know how much longer he could hide his secret.

He didn't know what would happen if the others found out. They were his friends, but his kind had been hunted for generations. The urge to run was becoming unbearable.

A part of him was scared that the wolf would take over completely. What would happen then? Would he even be Robin anymore?

His phone rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He pulled out the phone and checked the number. Bruce.

Robin sighed and picked up the call. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" the deep voice asked.

"I'm still in Jump," he said hoping that Bruce wouldn't bring up his theft from the Wayne Enterprises building.

"You've been avoiding my calls," the Batman replied.

"Yeah, I know," the boy sighed, his fingers digging into the wound on his shoulder.

The pain settled his mind, grounded it. He didn't feel like the wolf was controlling him anymore.

"Are you all right?" the Bat asked.

"I'm fine," Robin said, closing his eyes.

He knew Bruce didn't believe him. "You sound exhausted."

"Just been busy," he responded.

There was silence. The Bat was thinking, calculating, trying to figure out a plan.

"How have you been sleeping?"

"Good," Robin lied, standing and moving to the edge of the building.

He jumped to the fire escape below, the impact jolting his arm. The adrenaline rushed through him, making the pain fade away.

"Why is Alfred worried about you?" the Bat asked.

He winced. Robin might avoid Bruce's phone calls like the man had the plague but he almost always answered Alfred's. Except when he was captured by Slade. He didn't want anyone to know about that.

"What do you mean?"

"He said you're avoiding his calls," Bruce stated, "You never avoid Alfred. Chum what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Robin."

"It's nothing Bruce, I've just been busy," Robin sighed, looking up at the moon.

He wanted to tell him everything. Tell him about his secret and the pain. That the nightmares had come back. The wolf inside him was screaming to be let free.

"Please just talk to me," Bruce said.

"Bruce."

"No, I can hear something in your voice," the man interrupted.

"I'm fine, I've just been really busy," Robin stated, his tone final.

There was a pause on the other end. He could picture Bruce glaring down at his phone, thinking.

"Chum, whatever's bothering you, please don't bottle it up. Just come home," the Bat finally said.

"Bruce, I can't," growled Robin his eyes flashing amber briefly, "Jump needs the Titans and the Titans need me."

"Then come back and visit. Forget about the Titans. Dick, please," the Bat was almost begging.

"I have to go," Robin replied.

"Please just talk to Alfred, he's worried about you."

"I'll talk to him."

"Thank you," the Bat replied.

Robin hung up and sighed, closing his eyes. Why did this have to be so complicated? He should have been with the Titans instead of in his room.

The wolf was calling, urging him to join the night. He could smell the prey. Hear the scurrying in the dark. He had to resist the urge to shift and hunt.

Robin should go inside and go to sleep. It was a rare quiet night in Jump, only one called out. He should be taking advantage of it.

But he couldn't, the wolf inside was screaming. To shift and run. Join the hunt and kill the prey. He could imagine the warm blood sliding down his throat. The thrill of the chase.

He shook his head and walked down the stairs. The cool metal sent a chill through his gloved hands. He would patrol until the wolf was sated.

...

"Come on guys," Beast Boy begged, following his friends around the tower, "It'll be fun!"

"Sorry B, no," Cyborg smiled.

"Why not, the carnival will be a blast," the green titan whined.

"Yeah, but the last time we went to a carnival you won a huge teddy bear," Starfire laughed.

"And then lost it," Raven added, looking up from her book.

"But the games were so rigged," the changeling whined.

Robin rubbed his temple and tried not to show the growing annoyance. It had been three days since the phone call and the carnival had brought his mood down. It reminded him of home.

The smell of sweets and funnel cakes. The loud sounds. Children screaming and laughing. The animals. He wasn't sure if the wolf would be happy or pissed.

"Maybe next time BB," Robin said.

"I don't think they'll be another one, this one's a special event," Beast Boy explained, his ears dropping slightly.

The acidic scent of Beast Boy's disappointment burned Robin's nose. His lips twitched down and the wolf urged him to make the young one feel better. It wasn't a fight he was willing to push.

"Fine, we can go," Robin caved, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Really!" the boy gasped, his green eyes brightening.

"Yeah, the team can use a break anyway," the hero agreed, his heart warming as the disappointment melted.

"Yes!" the boy cheered.

Robin's shoulders slumped. How could he say no? The wolf was already preening at the happiness of the boy.

"Well, what are we waiting for, let's go," the changeling said grabbing Raven's arm and pulling her towards the door.

"Beast Boy, stop, you are hurting me," the empath glared.

"Oh, sorry Rae," he said.

"Just warn me next time," the girl muttered, picking up her book and walking to the exit.

Cyborg followed behind chuckling.

Starfire looked at him, her brows knitted together in worry. She grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, making him wince. Her strength was equal to that of his on the full moon.

"We should get the going friend Robin, the carnival is having a special," the alien grinned.

"I guess," he sighed, not looking forward to the carnival.

"You have seemed down these past few days," she continued, "perhaps the carnival will help."

"Yeah," the boy wonder forced a smile, "you're right."

It wouldn't. Carnivals reminded him of the circus. Something the wolf did not appreciate.

"Wonderful, now we must be leaving," the girl beamed, flying towards the doors, "Let us depart."

"All right," the teen sighed.

...

"Friend Beast Boy, is that you," Starfire asked, looking over at the large crowd.

"Yup, it's the winner's circle, all winners are given a photo," the boy smiled.

"That is very exciting," the girl grinned, bouncing in the air.

Robin's gaze ran over the crowd watching for any threats. He couldn't use his sense of smell like he normally would. Not in front of the other titans.

The wolf was getting impatient, his muscles tensing, ready to shift. Robin pushed the urges away.

"Robin," Starfire called, pulling him into a tight hug, "this has been a glorious day, thank you."

"Anytime Star," he said.

Beast Boy noticed. Despite being only 13, he could sense the changes in Robin better than anyone else. The older boy was tired and hungry. His eyes were darting from person to person, scanning for a threat.

He could see the tense muscles and clenched fists. It was subtle but he could see the signs. Robin was getting anxious.

"Hey, we're not done yet," the changeling interrupted.

"Huh?"

"There's a special exhibit, come on, it's the reason I wanted to go," Beast Boy continued.

"Uh, what kind of exhibit?" the bird asked.

"Animal," the changeling grinned.

"You just want to check out the animals, don't you?" Robin sighed.

"They have wolves, please Robin," the boy begged, his ears lowering, "please."

Wolves.

The thought made the hero tense, the wolf inside was begging to run free. Run and howl with its own kind.

"Friend Robin, perhaps the carnival will have the unicorns," the girl gasped, "it is the bestest place."

"Best, Star, it's the best," Raven corrected, glancing at her friend, "and the chances of seeing a unicorn are slim."

Raven glanced at him. His face had paled and his scent was shifting. From exhaustion and a small amount of stress to fear and excitement.

Robin was not okay.

"Perhaps there are other things besides the unicorns," the redhead said, looking back at her green friend.

"Yeah," Beast Boy smiled, his ears twitching.

Robin wanted to run. To get far away just. Wolves, real wolves, were so close. So alive. The urge was burning his body, the wolf clawed at his skin. Begging, screaming to be free.

"Hey," Cyborg placed a hand on his shoulder, "You good man."

"Huh," the boy wonder started.

"Are you ok, you look sick," the metal teen commented.

He wantedv to push them away. Then it happened something in him shifted. Cyborg's eyes glazed over and he shifted away from Robin.

Shit!

Robin hadn't used his ability, the wolf had. Around him, people began to move around him. The glaze of their eyes making him realize no one was seeing him. Only Beast Boy could.

It was the ability that protect him and his family for so long. To walk amongst man without being seen. An ability that Robin never learned to control.

"Robin, you're here, where is everyone," the younger teen asked, looking around, his eyes filled with confusion, "Where did Star and Raven and Cy go?"

"They're safe, it's not your fault, they're not going to remember," the teen replied, his voice wavering.

"What do you mean?" the younger demanded, his eyes searching the crowds for their missing friends.

"They didn't see me," he explained, "They can't. You're the only one who can, well, sometimes."

"See you? What do you mean, we're all friends, they can see you, I can see you," Beast Boy frowned.

"Beast Boy, I can't explain this. Not right now," Robin sighed.

"What? Is this some sort of test," the green titan snapped, "Stop playing."

"You're not listening," Robin growled.

"Robin."

"Don't," the older teen snarled, his eyes flashing gold, "Not here."

Beast Boy stepped back with fear. Never had his leader ever growled. Or had his eyes glow gold.

"Who are you?" the changeling asked.

"I'm the same guy I was a minute ago," the teen replied.

"Then why aren't the others seeing you," Beast Boy pressed, his eyes scanning the crowd, "why are people staring at me."

"I can't explain! I can't," Robin sighed, his hands curling into fists.

The urge to change, the need was there. But he couldn't, not in front of Beast Boy. He couldn't.

Instead of waiting for Beast Boy to reply he ran. The world faded around him as he left the carnival. The only sound was the crunching of grass under his feet and his rapid heartbeat.

Once he was far enough away he let go and shifted. A wave of pleasure and pain raced through his body. Fur formed, and bones cracked. He felt himself fall, hitting the ground with a thud.

The human was replaced by a black wolf. A massive beast covered in sleek fur and thick muscle. Robin looked up and let out a low growl. The wolf had taken over and there was no going

The moon was high and the night was quiet. Perfect.

He threw his head back and howled, letting his instincts take over. The wolf wanted to run, and tonight the wolf got what he wanted.

Chapter Text

...

The next morning, Robin woke up in a trash heap outside of an apartment complex. He was back in his human form and he didn't rememenr what happened.

Robin slowly sat up, his clothes were ripped and shredded, barely covering him. He had done something, something stupid. Robin was sure the wolf had taken over. There was a blank space between when he had left the Titans and the trash pile.

Luckily he didn't seem to be injured.

"Dude, did you get mugged or something?" a familiar voice said.

Robin glanced up, the sunlight blocked by the shadowy figure.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were mugged, did a bunch of dudes beat you up and rob you or something?"

The person was an adult male, late twenties, brown hair and green eyes. His features were soft, rounded and pale. He didn't have a weapon.

"I'm fine," Robin mumbled, sitting up, "Just had a rough night."

"That's a hell of a lot more than a rough night, are you drunk?"

"No, not drunk," the boy responded, wincing as a wave of pain rolled through his skull.

"Did you hit your head?"

"Maybe, I don't remember," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Ok, well, my apartment's not too far from here, let me take you there," the man said, extending a hand.

"It's fine," Robin replied, pushing his hands down, "I'm fine, thanks for the offer though."

"Its not that much trouble," said the man, "It'd be safer for you considering there's a wild animal out there attacking people."

What?

"What do you mean, an animal attacked someone," Robin's eyes widened, the color draining from his face.

"Some poor kid got mauled by some huge dog last night," the man replied, "The kid is lucky he didn't die. It's just a shame he couldn't remember what attacked him."

Robin couldn't speak. No, no, no. This was a nightmare. Had he attacked a person, a child?

"You sure you don't need a hand, it doesn't look like you can stand," the man questioned, offering a hand.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks, just a little weak," the hero lied, grabbing the hand.

The man's skin was warm and slightly damp. His fingers wrapped around the boy's wrist, and helped him stand.

"Can you walk?"

"Y-yeah," Robin mumbled, leaning against the wall.

"Ok, can you tell me your name, so I can call an ambulance," the man asked, pulling out his cellphone.

"Uh, uh, I don't need a hospital," the hero stuttered, "Just a little dizzy, I'll be fine."

"Ok, do you know how you ended up here?" the man inquired, "Was there an attack?"

"N-no, just a party, I don't drink, it was an accident," the boy lied, trying not to stumble.

"All right, just take a deep breath," the man instructed.

Robin leaned against the wall and tried to stop the swaying. It didn't help.

"I should probably walk you home," the man sighed.

"What, no, no, it's not necessary, really, I can get home myself," the hero insisted, forcing his stomach to calm down.

"Look kid, your parents are probably worried, let's not make it worse," the man smiled.

Parents. Right that's what normal kids had.

"I'm an orphan, they're dead," Robin blurted.

"Oh," the man's expression fell, his eyebrows creased with sympathy, "I'm sorry, are you a ward of the state, foster, or adoption?"

"I-um, I'm in a group home," the hero quickly decided, not wanting to reveal his secret identity.

It took a little more convincing but eventually he was allowed to leave. It was a miracle the man hadn't seen him change the night before.

Once he was away, he made his way to an abandoned alley and pulled out his communicator. It had been broken.

"Great," he mumbled.

There was no telling if the titans had been looking for him. It wasn't uncommon for him to disappear after a mission, but last night's was uneventful.

His first choice would be to head back to the tower and talk to his team. Explain the truth. Tell them everything. But, the idea sent shivers down his spine.

Humans weren't safe. They hated him and his kind. That's why his mother had warned him to hide his abilities. To avoid anyone knowing.

Even Bruce.

Robin sighed, and turned, running his fingers through his tangled mess of hair. The smell of trash and filth invaded his nose, the sounds of the city loud.

Jump was always noisy, the constant rush, and the never-ending noise. But today was different, the sound was grating, irritating.

The boy wonder could hear a woman crying and her two children were asking what was wrong.

A man was cursing. Another yelling at him.

Someone was playing music and singing loudly.

And the smell, it was nauseating. The scent of garbage, and blood, and dirt, and the animals.

It was all so much, and he couldn't stand it. Robin needed to escape. To run. To shift and lose himself.

No, no, no, he couldn't. It wasn't safe. The wolf inside was still angry. He wasn't fully healed and he knew the damage the creature would cause.

So he closed his eyes and pushed the animal down. Forced it into the cage. Ignored the whimpers and snarls.

The boy wonder opened his eyes, his breathing slowed, and the scents became tolerable.

He was fine, he was safe.

Now he needed to figure out where to go. He had to get away, the Tower wasn't an option, but he couldn't go back to his room. Not in his current state. It'd bring too many questions.

From what he could tell he was several miles from the Titan's base, a good three hour run. At least a few days on foot.

But where to go.

Slade had an old hideout nearby he was sure. If he was lucky the man might have left some clothes in it.

It was a chance.

With his plan decided the boy wonder began the long walk towards his goal.

...

"Has anyone found Robin," Cyborg asked, watching the news, his gaze never leaving the screen.

"No, not since yesterday," Beast Boy muttered.

"It is very odd, the friend Robin normally lets us know when he won't come back," Starfire stated, "Is it possible that the friend was captured by the villains again?"

"Doubt it, there would have been an alert," Cyborg answered, "Besides, Robin doesn't stay gone that long. Even after being captured, he's usually back in a day."

"Maybe we should track his communicator," Raven suggested, looking at her friend.

"We tried, nothing, the signal's dead," the metal teen explained.

"Do you think the villain was responsible," the alien inquired.

"It's possible," the girl nodded, "But, Robin does have a habit of disappearing without saying anything. I doubt this time was an exception."

Beast Boy was oddly quiet and it was noticed by the others. Normally, the youngest would have been the first to insist the search for their friend. But today, the boy seemed preoccupied.

"Friend Beast Boy, are you ok," the Tamaranian questioned, looking over at him.

"Hm," the green teen glanced up.

"Is something wrong," she repeated, tilting her head.

"I'm fine," Beast Boy sighed, turning back to the screen.

"Something happened didn't it, did you guys fight," Cyborg frowned, walking over to him.

"What? No, of course not, why would you ask that," the changeling scoffed, shaking his head.

"Then what's eating you," the older boy pressed, his arms crossed.

"I-uh-," Beast Boy stumbled, trying to think of an excuse, "Just didn't sleep good."

"Right," the robot smirked, his gaze unwavering.

"Leave him alone Cy," the empath said, her tone monotone.

"Fine," the half-man grumbled, his gaze falling back on the news, "Let's try not to think about Robin. I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later."

...

An hour later found Robin at the old base. He watched the place looking for any signs that Slade might not have abandoned it. Thankfully there didn't appear to be any.

After a few minutes, he finally approached the warehouse. It was an old, abandoned building, one that didn't seem important.

The perfect hiding place.

"Well, I guess it's now or never," he sighed.

Pushing open the door, Robin walked inside. The place was dark and dusty, the air musty and old. The smell burned his nose.

In front of him was an old desk. An empty chair behind it and an old, dust covered computer monitor. The rest of the room was cluttered. Chairs, boxes, papers, and other various junk.

Behind the desk, were stairs. They lead to a hidden second floor, which was mostly bare. In the corner, was an old mattress. On top of it were a blanket and a small stack of folded clothes.

His room was at the end of the hall. Like the rest of the hideout, the place was a mess. Dust had settled, and the room was cold. A musty scent hung in the air.

On the wall was a dresser. Inside were several changes of clothing, all of the black. Robin grabbed the pair of sweatpants and a shirt and slipped them on.

Now what.

He could stay. There were supplies. The clothes were a plus. It would give him the chance to figure out how badly he screwed up.

The boy sat on the bed and sighed, the tension rolling off him. He could feel the wolf stirring, begging him to shift.

Not yet.

Robin didn't want the wolf free. It hurt a child. That meant he was dangerous.

"Fuck!"

The curse was loud and filled with anger and sadness. What had happened last night. The gap in his memory was frightening.

Did he even have control.

That's the scary thing, did he have any say? Or did the wolf do whatever the hell it wanted.

"Shit."

...

An alert sounded on Slade's computer making him frown. He had a camera near his old hideout, set up to inform him of anything unusual.

It appeared there was a disturbance. Someone had entered his old headquarters.

"Now, what could have caused such a thing," he hummed.

William looked at him curious from his place in the kitchen. He had moved into the mercenary's apartment. It had started out as a necessity but they both enjoyed the company.

"You got something," the man questioned, his eye locked on the computer screen.

"Hmm," Slade mumbled, not responding.

"Slade," William frowned.

"I believe someone is in my old headquarters," Slade man responded as he grabbed the orange and black mask, "Jump City."

Slade brought up the cameras of the base and frowned harder. Robin was in his old base and by the looks of things he was mugged.

"Who's the kid," Will asked.

"Someone who doesn't belong there," the masked mercenary answered.

"He looks pretty beat up," the blond replied, watching the teen pull his clothes off.

"I'll have to have a conversation with him," the single blue orb narrowed.

"Don't kill the kid, Slade."

"Relax, he'll live," the white haired man snapped.

"Slade."

"Don't worry," the single eye rolled.

"If I find out the kid's dead I'll put a bullet between your eyes," the ex-military warned.

"We both know that won't work on me," quipped back Slade.

"Try it and see."

Chapter Text

...

Robin didn't bother with sleep. If he slept he might shift and then kill. The urge was present. His skin burned and his bones ached. He could hear the heartbeats, smell the life, and taste the air.

His stomach was twisted in knots and his throat was dry. He hadn't eaten, his body wouldn't let him. Not until he gave into the beast.

"This isn't normal," the boy gasped, his legs aching.

It was a constant need, one that was driving him crazy. His human mind was barely holding back the wolf. He was grateful he went to the old hideout and not the Tower. If he did he might be a danger to those around him.

The thought made his chest tighten and the world spin. He couldn't hurt his friends. Not them. Never them.

He'd rather die.

"Get a hold of yourself," the hero snarled, punching the concrete.

The pain helped ground him. It reminded him that he was in control. That the wolf couldn't break him.

He had been fighting the beast ever since his mother's death. Fighting for years, against the monster and the pain. Against the nightmares and the voices.

"Fuck," Robin whispered.

He wanted to give up, let the wolf take over. But if he did, who would save him? No, he couldn't, he had to stay strong.

Robin tried to remember if there was a way to lock himself in the building. The effort would be useless. He didn't have the code to access any of the keypads.

He also didn't have the strength to break them.

The hero laid his head down, and tried to keep his body under control.

He couldn't stop thinking about the kid. Was the child alright? Did he live or die.

Was it his fault.

Robin was a danger. A hazard. A threat. He was so tired of fighting every other week. Fighting himself.

Should he just disappear?

The others would miss him. The city would be at a loss.

The titans.

They would continue their mission. They were strong. The team didn't need him.

Bruce.

He didn't matter, Bruce hated him. That much was clear when he was fired as Robin after the near death with the Joker. Robin hadn't even contacted him after his month long stint with Slade.

The hero sighed, and closed his eyes. The pain was overwhelming, his stomach was cramping. His heart felt heavy, like a weight was dragging it down.

What would the Titans think of him if they knew the truth?

He wasn't normal. Wasn't human. He was a freak, an abomination. A creature of legend forgotten by all but a select few.

Robin curled up, his body shivering, and his breath coming in gasps. The ache was deep, like a burning. It wasn't enough to hurt. Not really. Just uncomfortable.

It seemed like a lifetime passed when he heard footsteps. They were heavy and made of steel clad boots. He could hear the slow steady heartbeat.

Robin hoped that the person wouldn't come looking for him. He was in no shape for a fight. Still Robin unfurled himself from the fetal position he was in. His body protesting, the joints popping.

The steps came closer and Robin forced himself into a sitting position leaning against the wall. He could feel the adrenaline surge through his veins. The hairs on his arms were standing.

He could see the faint light coming from the stairwell. He wasn't sure who the visitor was, but his body tensed.

A man emerged from the shadows. One tall and muscular. Dressed in orange and black armor and wearing a mask. Fuck it was Slade.

"Good to see you're alive, Boy Wonder," the villain said, his tone smooth and deep.

"How'd you know I was here," Robin asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Simple, I have a camera set up near the building," the masked man explained, approaching him.

"I should have guessed," the boy snorted.

The wolf growled deep and low within him. No, no, no. This was the worst possible scenario. Robin couldn't risk a shift. He had to resist the beast.

"Stay back," he stammered, pushing himself farther against the wall.

"You look awful, Robin," Slade stated, taking a step closer, "Tell me, why did you choose this location?"

"It was a safe choice," Robin responded, his voice cracking, "it was close and quiet."

"Is there a reason for the secrecy," the masked villain pushed, stepping closer.

He couldn't keep the growl from escaping him. It sounded inhuman. Feral. Robin clenched his hands, nails digging into his palms. The wolf was fighting him. Trying to escape.

"Slade for your sake," he said blue eyes flashing amber, "Stay away."

Slade's head turned to the side in curiosity. He was examining Robin like a lab rat. The teen felt his body shudder and his bones creaked.

"Interesting," the villain whispered, kneeling in front of him.

Robin was panting now. His mouth was watering. Saliva dripped onto his lap. His tongue was longer and thinner. The teeth sharper.

"So, you have more secrets," the criminal commented, "I don't think I will leave you here. Come, boy, I'm taking you home."

Slade reached for him. He smelt the oil and gunpowder. The tang of metal and the hint of cologne.

Robin snapped, his eyes flashing. He grabbed the armored hand and snarled, his voice inhuman. The boy lunged, pushing the older man down.

Robin could feel the rage, the anger. He could hear the pulse. It was quick, like the rabbit he caught. He hadn't changed but he was on the verge of it.

"Stop. Calm," ordered Slade his hand grabbing Robin's arm.

The wolf in him growled at the order and touch. Thankfully the touch wasn't directly on skin. They both recognized it for what it was. A command.

But Robin wasn't an obedient dog. He wasn't a mindless slave. No. He was not weak.

Robin resisted, he fought, and he snarled. His eyes glowing and his body trembling.

"Calm down," Slade ordered again, his tone stern and powerful.

A part of him, the part that missed his apprenticeship and the loss of control wanted to obey. He was tired of always having to be in control. It was the same part of him that preened at the few choice words of praise.

Robin's resolve was weakened from fighting his wolf. On the other hand, the wolf inside was desperate. The beast clawed and growled, begging for release. Begging to submit and give in.

"No," he hissed.

The grip on his arm tightened and Robin struggled. He fought to get free, to escape. To run. But his strength was leaving him.

"Calm," the word was a soft command.

It was followed by a touch to his wrist catching it. Robin was pulled off balance and pushed to the ground. He tried to throw the other off of him.

"Stop," Slade commanded, his grip on Robin's neck firm but not constricting.

Robin was still thrashing. Snarling, and growling, his voice no longer human.

"Stop," Slade said his eye locking with his, "Breath. Now."

And suddenly the struggle was gone. The conditioning broke through his stubbornness.

Robin went limp and his breathing was shallow. He was panting, his gaze dull. The fight had drained him, and the wolf retreated, too tired to cause trouble.

"Better," Slade purred, his fingers stroking the sweat soaked hair.

Robin whined, the sound almost human.

"Sleep."

The world faded away and he slipped into the darkness.

...

Slade waited a few moments to ensure it wasn't a trick. Once he was certain the boy was truly unconscious he picked him up. He had wondered if the conditioning was still in effect. It had only been two weeks since he last used it.

It wasn't enough time for it to fade. Just not have as strong of a hold on Robin.

"Time to go," the mercenary murmured, glancing down at his prize.

Once the teen was settled and secure, the mastermind made his way towards his car. William was waiting in the driver's seat.

"Did the kid try to kill you with a knife," Will asked, looking at him.

"What are you talking about, Will?" the mercenary frowned, adjusting the unconscious child in his arms.

"There is some tears in your Kevlar," the old man replied, motioning to his suit.

"He wasn't armed," said Slade glancing down at his suit.

Sure enough there were tears in his suit. That shouldn't be possible. He knew Robin had no weapons on him. So, how did the child tear his uniform.

"You sure the kid's not armed," the ex-military asked, "I wouldn't trust him."

"Positive," the single orb narrowed.

"If you say so, where's he gonna stay," the blond raised an eyebrow.

"For now the base, until I can secure a better location," Slade responded, opening the car door.

"What do we know about him?" the man continued, "Besides the obvious, Slade."

Slade didn't answer at first. They thought they knew what there was to know about the boy. However, today proved they were wrong. There was more. Something dangerous.

"Slade."

"He's not a normal child," the man began, gently laying the teen down, "I believe he has enhanced senses."

"Enhanced senses," the former military man questioned, his eyebrow raised, "That doesn't explain the torn armor."

"No, it doesn't, but, whatever it was, its the reason the boy was hiding out," the mercenary answered, his eye falling on the teen, "Something happened. Something, that triggered this, behavior."

"When we get back I'll look into it," the old soldier agreed, turning on the engine, "Let's go home."

"Yes," the mastermind nodded.

For a few moments they were silent. Slade focused his attention on anything that was off during the apprenticeship. Nothing jumped out at him immediately.

"He doesn't have his gear," the older man pointed out, glancing at the kid, "Doesn't seem like a smart move."

"It wasn't," the masked man shook his head, "Which tells me, something isn't right. The boy would have his costume or at least a few weapons. He's also underweight, and exhausted, and looks like he hasn't slept or eaten in days."

"Something big must have happened, and the kid didn't feel safe with his team," the older man added, pulling out into traffic.

"Correct, whatever this is, was enough to send him running. We just need to figure out what it was," the villain replied, "Or who."

"It could have been someone new," Will offered.

"Perhaps, however, my gut says, no," the lone eye narrowed, his thoughts shifting to a few months prior.

"Then the most likely source is either Batman or a past villain," the retired solider responded, "Any ideas?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure once he's calmed down, I can convince him to tell me," the white-haired man smirked.

"Maybe talk this time and not beat him. That didn't exactly end well the first time," the man huffed.

Admittedly that was probably a mistake. The last time, his apprentice was angry and had an attitude. Slade didn't have the patience and Robin didn't understand why he had been chosen.

"I'll have to wait till morning," the masked mercenary hummed, "We'll discuss the terms after he wakes. I want you to take blood from him when we get back. Run it through the usual tests."

"All right," the other agreed.

Chapter Text

...

Slade stared at the results on the screen in front of him. According to the DNA test, the child was his son.

His flesh and blood. Mary and he had been married shortly before the experiment. Back when he was just a military officer. The army had declared him dead back during the experiment.

She had moved on. She remarried. Had a son, a second husband, a second chance. Not that he blamed her aat the time. She thought he was dead and by the time he made it back stateside two and a half years passed.

He didn't go and find her, his mind was not his own and she was already remarried. And happy. So, he left her be and stayed the hell away.

When he found out about her and her husband's murder Richard was already taken in by Wayne. He watched over Richard for years not stepping in though coming close a few times. If he had know, he would have taken in the child immediately.

Building a relationship with his son was going to be extremely difficult. The apprenticeship was going to make it difficult.

But he couldn't back down. He didn't care that the boy was the Teen Titan's leader. This was his son. His boy.

Now the only thing he needed was to have the talk with his child.

...

Robin woke up to a warm, soft surface. There was a heavy blanket draped over him and a pillow under his head. It was nice. Comfortable.

The hero took a deep breath. His nostrils were filled with the smell of coffee, leather, and a familiar musky scent.

Any lingering sleepiness was gone. That was the scent of Slade. The same scent he smelled while being forced to stay as the man's apprentice.

Robin opened his eyes and sat up. He was in a medium sized room. There were no windows, the walls and floor were all the same black granite. Across from the bed was a wooden dresser. There was also a bookshelf filled with novels and a large armchair.

Next to the bed was a nightstand with a lamp, clock, and glass of water. On the wall above the bookshelf was a TV. It was more comfortable than he expected from Slade.

"Hello Robin," the man said, the sound making the hairs on his arms rise.

The boy turned his head. Standing in the doorway was Slade, his arms folded, and his eye watching. The man had changed. Instead of his armored outfit he was dressed in jeans and a gray t-shirt. He stood wore the mask however.

"How are you feeling, child?" the man questioned, approaching the bed.

Robin wanted to jump off the bed and run for the door. The quietness of his mind however gave him pause. The constant battle with the wolf was gone. The anger, fear, and pain weren't present.

How was his mind so quiet? What did Slade do? The questions made him seriously consider running for the door. He didn't even move before Slade spoke.

"Don't," warned Slade.

Robin stopped, the instinctual reaction making him wince. Shit, shit, shit.

"We have a lot to discuss, Robin," the criminal started, his gaze locked on him, "We can't do that if you're going to run off."

"I wasn't," Robin protested.

"Your body was prepared for flight, the minute I entered the room," the man sighed, walking to the arm chair, "It's natural, given how things were between us less than two weeks ago. I expect some caution."

Robin bit his tongue and glared. The man was right. He was ready to bolt the moment he saw the other.

He could still try.

"Don't try it, unless you want another command," the masked man warned, taking a seat.

Robin shivered. Would he ever be free of Slade?

"So, we're gonna discuss what happened last night, and I expect the truth, am I understood, boy," the older man instructed, his tone firm and no room for argument.

"I understand," Robin replied, his shoulders tense.

"Good, then why were you hiding at my base, and where is your gear," the villain began.

"I-uh," the teen stumbled, biting his lip.

"Robin, remember, the truth," the older male ordered, his gaze narrowed.

He couldn't exactly tell the truth. That was the problem. The truth was a secret not even Bruce, Alfred, or his team knew. Only Beast Boy because of their connection tied to animal sides. How could he explain that to a human who never faced such a thing?

"I can't," Robin finally whispered.

"Why," the mercenary asked, leaning forward, "Can't, or won't, child?"

"I-can't, Slade," the boy replied, his hands clenching.

"Robin, you're not helping yourself by avoiding the subject," the villain sighed.

"Please," the boy whispered.

"Robin, listen to me, I need an explanation," the masked man demanded, standing.

"I can't," the boy shouted and he did jump from the bed.

Sluggishly within him the wolf began to respond. He pushed down that side of him. There wasn't enough energy left in him to fight off commands and his inner wolf.

"Why," Slade demanded.

"I just can't," the teen snapped.

Robin regretted coming to job. He regretted ever leaving Gotham.

"Then tell me where the injuries came from," the man said his eye narrowed.

Robin winced, and glanced at the bandage around his arm. All of his current injuries were from his missing time. He couldn't answer truthfully even if he wanted to.

"Answer the question, Robin."

The order hit him like a train and the words slipped from his mouth.

"I don't remember," he stammered, the pressure lifting.

"You don't," the mercenary frowned, tilting his head.

"N-no, not really," Robin muttered.

"That's strange, you aren't someone to lose track of time," the masked man mused, "What do you remember, then?"

"Nothing, there's a gap," the young teen lied, "I can't explain it."

"Interesting, the injuries are from that gap," the villain inquired.

"Y-yes," Robin nodded, swallowing hard.

"Hmm," Slade murmured.

The room fell silent, the two staring each other down. Inside him, the wolf was awake and alert. The monster was begging him to run, to hide, to leave.

"Tell me about these enhanced senses," the masked man questioned, changing the topic.

"E-enhanced senses," the boy mumbled, confused.

"I could see it, the way your eyes glowed, the changes to the pupils and the way you were reacting to certain stimuli," the mercenary explained, his eye unblinking.

Oh he was fucked. Time to go regardless of the consequences of trying. He formed a connection between him and the wolf. Not quite to the point of shifting but enough to give him an edge. His wolf howled in triumph.

In a burst of energy and motion he made for the door. His speed and reflexes were greater, and the world slowed down. He could feel the pull, the power of his beast.

Slade tried to grab him, but the teen was too fast. He ran, his bare feet hitting the cold floor. Down the hall and around the corner, towards the front.

"Robin!"

He tried not to listen but couldn't completely close off the sense. He would need it to know when Slade was close. The scent of cooking was on the air.

He skidded around the corner and the scent of food grew stronger. Cooking meat, spices, and butter.

"What the hell is happening," William asked.

He was standing at the stove a spoon in his hand. A part of him wanted to make a comment about it. Before he could say or move another step he heard the locks in the doors shift and lock.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck.

Robin glanced around at his surroundings. There had to be something he could use to his advantage here. The counters were empty, save for a pot, pan, and cutting board.

William Wintergreen stood closeby. He might look like an old man but Robin knew better from being an apprentice. The man was just as dangerous as Slade.

"What are you doing," Will questioned, looking him over.

If Robin didn't know any better he could have sworn he saw concern in the gaze.

"Stay back," the young teen commanded, his voice cracking.

"Kid, you need to calm down," the man instructed.

"I said, stay away," the younger repeated.

"You can't fight me and Slade, kid," the man warned, his eyes narrowing.

"I can sure try," the bird shot back.

"Listen, kiddo, you can't," the other continued, "It won't work."

"No, no, no, no," the teen growled.

The wolf was awake and aware, and the urge to run was overwhelming. Robin had to fight to not let it control him. He could hear the heavy steps of the man coming.

Wintergreen turned off the stove and came around the counter. Robin took a step back, and then another.

"Don't come any closer," he warned, his voice strained.

"Kid, calm down, it's ok," the man tried.

"Stop, stop, please," the teen begged.

"I'm not moving, kiddo, but you can't leave," the former military man stated.

"I have to go, I have to leave, get away, run," the teen gasped.

"You're not, kid, take a breath, breathe, count, anything, just focus on the here and now," the man offered.

"No, I-you-Slade," the young teen sputtered, the world spinning.

His body trembled, his legs were weak, and the panic was setting in. Everything was blurry, his mind foggy. The wolf was trying to take control, desperate and scared.

"Easy, easy, you're gonna fall, just relax, it's okay," the ex-soldier said.

The older man reached out, and Robin flinched. He dropped into a crouch.

"Don't, please, I'm sorry," the hero apologized, the wolf whining.

"You're ok, no one is mad, or upset," the man answered, his voice calm and soothing, "Breath."

Without Slade's scent the command didn't work the same. He could fight it. He had to fight it.

"Please," the teen whimpered.

"Shhh, it's okay," the man hushed.

He stepped towards Robin. Robin couldn't move, the wolf was begging for release. It was pushing and pleading, wanting out. All of his effort now was keeping the wolf within.

"Don't," the child begged, his hands clenching.

"You're okay," the man soothed.

"Not okay," the boy cried, "Not okay."

"You are," the other assured, kneeling next to him.

"No, I-I can't," the teen argued.

"Yes, yes you can," the man stated, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The touch made him jump. But he didn't resist. The wolf was whining and the urge to flee was growing stronger.

"It's not safe, I-I can't be," the hero shook his head, "No confinement. Bad things will happen. It'll get free."

"You're safe, Robin," the older man replied, his tone confident.

"N-no," the child protested.

"Slade's not gonna hurt you, and neither am I," the man swore, "I'm not moving."

"Danger," the young hero whispered.

"You're safe, no one is gonna hurt you," the other repeated.

Its not himself he was worried for. If the wolf got free, it would attack, and he didn't know if the person would live.

"Please," the bird whispered, "Get back. I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not going to," the old soldier reassured, pulling him close, "Calm down, you're alright, and we can handle whatever this is."

Robin felt his chest tighten, the world blurred and spun. It was too late. He could feel the change start, the skin tearing.

"I-it's t-too l-late," he managed, his jaw snapping and the teeth changing, "Run."

...

Will jumped up and sprinted to the other side of the counter. The sight was something out of a horror movie. The kid's body was transforming.

Hair was sprouting, and the limbs were breaking and reshaping. His spine popped and stretched. Bones and organs shifting.

Will wasn't sure what he was looking at. Some kind of dog. Or wolf.

The transformation was horrifying and fascinating. The sound and smells were almost enough to make him throw up.

Finally, it was over. Where once stood the kid, was a large black wolf.

"Damn," the former soldier whistled, impressed.

The animal growled and backed up. Its ears were flat against its skull, and its fur was bristled. Fangs were bared and the muscles coiled for an attack.

Now, Will understood the warning. That wolf could kill.

"It's okay," the old soldier murmured, "Take a breath."

"Will," the deep rumbling voice of his best friend came from the entryway.

"A little occupied at the moment," he snarked never taking his eyes off the wolf, "Did you know?"

"How exactly would I have known, Will?" Snapped Slade as he stepped in.

"You did a blood test," Will answered.

"It only tested for DNA, I was unaware it was a possibility," the man defended.

"What's the plan, because right now he's ready to bite my face off," the retired soldier grumbled.

"Relax, Richard," the white haired mercenary called, his single blue eye locked onto the wolf.

In response he snarled. The hairs rose further, and the muscles quivered. The conditioning that worked on the human side did not appear to be working now.

"Robin, stop," the criminal demanded, his eye narrowed.

The animal stilled, but the growling and snarling increased.

"Easy, relax," the villain tried.

The wolf snapped and lunged, its jaw open and fangs glistening. It was aiming for the jugular.

Chapter Text

...

Slade stumbled back and his arm came up in instinctive reaction. Sharp fangs bit and tore into his flesh. His body slammed into the wall. Blood trickled down his arm, soaking his shirt and staining the white material.

The beast's claws were digging and scrapping into his skin, ripping the flesh apart. Pain was blossoming from his abdomen. He could see the glint of red on the creature's fur.

The animal pulled back and attacked again. Once more he was aiming for the throat. He grabbed the wolf's fur and slammed him into the ground. The beast thrashed and snarled, his eyes bright amber and feral.

"Calm," the man growled.

For a brief second the wolf stopped and his pupil shrank. Then the moment was gone, and the creature resumed the struggle. Fangs and claws flashed trying to catch flesh.

"Calm down, now," the masked mercenary demanded.

The words were a harsh order, his grip tight. He pushed his will, his intent into the command. The wolf's movements became sluggish. His eyes were cloudy, the pupils constricting and dilating rapidly.

"Good, boy," the mastermind praised and ran a hand over the boy's shoulder.

It only lasted a few seconds. The wolf was awake, and the eyes were bright. With a burst of energy, the beast shoved him and scrambled up.

The monster growled, and paced, its claws scratching and digging into the tile. Its attention was split between the two.

"It's not a good idea, kid," Slade sighed.

He pushed himself up and held his bleeding arm. Blood seeped from the wounds and stained his hand.

The wolf bared his fangs and charged, aiming for his throat. Again. Slade caught him by the neck, and forced him down. The wolf's jaws snapped inches from his face.

"Enough," the older male commanded, his gaze firm.

The monster paused and its head tilted, confused. The beast was tired and exhausted, and its muscles were straining. He was fighting the conditioning.

"Richard," the man said his name.

The wolf froze. Amber eyes met blue. For a few moments they stayed still. The beast didn't move.

"Come here," the older man ordered.

The wolf resisted, his head turned to the side. His body shuddered and shook. A whine slipped out, and the fur flattened.

"It's alright, child," the Slade spoke, his tone low and comforting, "Just breathe."

Slowly the tension faded, and the wolf's movements became languid. Finally, the animal moved and approached him.

"Very good," Slade praised, and sat up, his hands running over the fur.

"That was a fucking shitshow," William Wintergreen exclaimed, coming out from behind the counter.

"Couldn't have been avoided," the masked mercenary stated.

"He tried to rip your face off," the blond frowned.

"Wouldn't have been the first time, and definitely won't be the last," the masked man shrugged.

"You're an asshole," Will muttered, rubbing his temple, "I think there's some whiskey in the fridge."

"Later," Slade hummed.

The wolf laid down next to him. His head was resting on Slade's thigh. He wondered how far the conditioning went. Did the conditioning work on the animal as well?

He stroked the black fur and his hand ran down the muzzle. He gently scratched the animal's chin. In return the beast closed its eyes and let out a huff.

"Let me look at that, and the rest of the injuries," the other man said.

"They'll heal," the lone-eyed man answered.

"Still should probably clean them, and the shirt's done for," the older soldier replied, approaching him.

"Probably," Slade agreed.

Will brought the first aid kit and took a seat next to the pair. Richard's ear twitched the only indication he knew that Will was there.

"Let's see," the blonde commented, opening the case.

He examined the wound, and then glanced down at the wolf. The amber eyes were watching. Slade ran a hand down Richard's spine. It was an attempt at calming the youth.

Richard rumbled and leaned into the touch. The teen's head was resting against his knee, his body curled and the tail laying over his paw.

Will cleaned the wound and wrapped it. Thankfully, the bites didn't reach the muscle. It would heal within the hour.

"Are you hungry," the old soldier asked, putting away the medical supplies.

The wolf huffed, and lifted its head. Its gaze shifted and it watched Will.

"There's food, if you're hungry, kiddo," the ex-military offered, gesturing towards the kitchen.

Richard was quiet, and the wolf was listening. Its gaze flicked back and forth. The boy was in there, the beast wasn't the dominant personality.

"Food, Robin," Slade commanded, his tone stern and firm.

The wolf's ears folded back and it looked up. There was a spark in those eyes. One that said he was listening and the words were reaching him.

"It's ok, we'll wait," Will said, his gaze meeting Slade's, "I'm just glad the kid didn't turn me into a chew toy."

"He wouldn't have," the masked mercenary replied, "Even as a wolf, Richard knows better."

"I hope you're right, that would have sucked," the former soldier chuckled, "I can't believe the kid's a wolf."

"It's an interesting ability," the mercenary agreed.

"Interesting and dangerous," Will muttered, leaning against the wall, "So, are we keeping him, or returning him."

"Keeping him, obviously," the mastermind frowned.

"And the team," the blond asked.

"That's his decision, when the time comes," Slade hummed, petting the dark fur, "Once he's able to speak and is lucid."

"Right," the man nodded, and stood.

"You're going somewhere, Will," the single eyed man questioned.

"Yep, to get some alcohol," the soldier responded.

"Make sure it's the strong stuff," the one-eyed man stated.

"Will do," the soldier answered, walking off.

Slade leaned against the wall and closed his eye. Today had not been ideal, but things were starting to look up. Now, all he had to do was wait.

...

The scent of cooking meat woke him. He opened his eyes and groaned. He felt sore and achey.

He didn't want to get up. He was leaning against something warm. He nuzzled the heat source, his mind muddled. He didn't know where he was. The shift had muddled his memories.

"Welcome back," the warmth rumbled.

Wait, a minute. That voice. Why did that sound familiar?

"Sla-" the teen began and cut off.

Oh, oh fuck.

His gaze shot up and he saw the face of the man he hated. Slade's mask was off. His steel gray hair was short and tussled.

He had his mouth open and was about to say the word. The command that would force him to obey. His wolf wasn't enough to get away.

"Slade, no," the bird shouted, jumping back.

His hands were raised and he noticed the destroy remnants of his clothes. Damn it. Not again.

"I-I, don't," the child stammered, his chest tightening.

"Shh, easy," the white-haired male coaxed.

"N-no, I'm sorry," the teen sputtered.

"Richard, relax, no harm was done," the mercenary soothed.

"But-but I-," the child protested, his chest constricting, "Please."

"Deep breath," the older man commanded, his tone stern.

Again, the order washed over him. His thoughts slowed and his heartbeat leveled out. His shoulders eased back and his chin dropped.

"Very good," the man murmured.

The praise was soothing. The teen found himself relaxing. It wasn't fair. He had finally escaped the control. He shouldn't be reacting like this.

"Breathe, just relax, you're not in trouble, I'm not angry," the older man encouraged.

The man was using a calm and soft tone. The kind used when a scared animal is injured and needs reassurance. It soothed the primal wolf side of him. The wolf hummed contentedly within him.

"Good, that's good, just breathe," the criminal soothed.

The teen wanted to snap. Wanted to tell the villain to shut the fuck up. Instead he remained quiet. He kept his head bowed, and his lips sealed.

"Good, that's good, now, I'm gonna stand," the man announced, his movements slow, "Stay there."

Robin nodded, and watched. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

"Alright, I'm not angry," the mastermind repeated, crouching, "Look at me."

His head rose and he met the single eye. He had the urge to submit, the feeling growing the longer he made eye contact. The wolf within knew on an instinctual level this was not someone he could win against. The human side rebelled against the thought.

"Tell me what you remember," the mercenary instructed, his gaze steady.

"The fight," the young hero mumbled, biting his lip, "I lost control. Then nothing."

"You changed, into a wolf," the one-eyed man stated.

"Oh-," Robin started, his eyebrows furrowing.

How was he supposed to explain this? Slade wouldn't know about the shifters. They were practically nonexistent now.

"I-I can," the younger began, swallowing hard, "Turn into a wolf."

Amongst other things. Robin wasn't going to explain his ability to walk amongst people without being seen. He was surprised that it didn't happen when he tried to escape Slade. Maybe he was one of the few it didn't work against.

"That's quite a power, you've been hiding, boy," the older mused.

"No-," the bird denied, his chest tightening, "Not really."

Slade moved back towards him and Robin flinched. He was unable to get away from him, the command was still in place. The ungloved hand touched the top of his head. Fingers carded through his hair. His muscles eased into a relaxed stated.

"Relax," the older man commanded.

"M' tryin'," the hero muttered.

"Good," the mercenary hummed, "Do you think you could transform again?"

"Uh, probably, yeah," the child mumbled, shrugging, "Why?"

"Curiosity," the one-eyed male answered, "Is there a limit, or a downside."

"There are downsides," Robin admitted, his gaze averted, "But no limits."

"Such as," the criminal pressed.

"Uh, sometimes my control slips, and the wolf side tries to take over," the teen confessed, his cheeks flushing, "If I'm hurt or stressed, the wolf has a chance of getting free. I can hurt or even kill someone without meaning to."

"You're afraid of your own power," supplied Slade, "What happened, that gave you such a fear?"

Robin was silent. His mind flashing to his past. The attacks in Gotham before he learned control. He didn't want to talk about the events that caused his fear.

"Answer the question, Robin," the mastermind commanded.

"It-its not an answer I can give," the hero whispered, his head lowered.

"And why is that," the criminal pressed.

"Please, please, Slade," the boy begged, "Stop, just stop."

"We are talking about your fears and how you came to have them, Robin," the one-eyed man informed.

"Please," the boy whispered.

Slade's carding continued in the gentle manner. The hand was large and rough. Robin could feel the calluses and scars.

"Take a deep breath," the one-eyed man murmured, "That's it, another, good."

The young bird did as ordered. It wasn't fair. Even now, Slade's commands worked. Why couldn't he shake it off?

"Good, let's start with an easier topic, shall we," the villain suggested.

Robin didn't answer. What was the point? He would never have control of the situation.

"Who else knows," the mastermind questioned, his voice calm and his attention on the hero.

"Only Beast Boy," he admitted leaning into the touch.

"He's the changeling," Slade surmised.

"Yeah," the young hero answered, "He can sense my wolf side. We have a feeling of... kinship? I'm not sure how to put the feeling into words."

"Kinship," the man murmured, his brow raised, "So, a bond, a connection."

"Yes," the hero mumbled, his face hot.

"Interesting, are you a changeling too," the man questioned, tilting his head.

"I-uh," the bird started, "I am, technically. Shifter is what mom called us. Shifters can only change into one animal. Changelings like Beast Boy can change into many. But we are still fighting against our instincts."

"Instincts," the mercenary echoed.

"Changing hurts," the child sighed, "It can be deadly. Our body breaks and remakes itself. If we have the energy, and aren't stressed, the changing isn't so bad. My first couple times I didn't have a lot of pain, just the urge to change and go for a run."

Always to run. Always to fight. The beast was begging. Begging him to allow the freedom.

"Hmm," the older man murmured.

"What," the hero demanded.

"Just, thinking, about everything," the man replied.

"Well, stop," the teenager growled.

"No," the criminal retorted, "You need help controlling your powers. I can provide that."

"I don't need you," the bird snapped.

"Yes, you do," the villain said, his gaze meeting the young hero's, "You can't do it alone. You don't trust yourself or Beast Boy."

"Fuck off," the kid hissed.

"That's rude, Richard," the man warned.

"Leave me alone," the hero demanded, "Stop messing with my head."

He tried to pull away. He had to get away. Slade's commands were affecting his thoughts.

"I'm not messing with your mind, Richard" the mercenary answered.

"Don't call me that," the young hero argued.

"Your name, and identity, not something to be ashamed of," the one-eyed male pointed out.

"Shut the fuck up," the child cursed, his voice raising.

"I see we're still struggling with anger," the mercenary frowned.

"You kidnapped me, and threatened to kill my friends, how would you feel," the teen accused.

Finally he was able to dislodge the hand. He jumped to his feet. The command was no longer holding him down.

"That was not a smart decision, boy," the one-eyed male said.

"Fuck you, asshole," the child sneered.

"Language," the villain sighed.

"Piss off," the hero retorted.

"Calm down," the criminal ordered, standing.

"Go die," the boy countered, "And burn in hell."

"I will not repeat myself, and I won't tolerate such foul language," the mercenary replied, his voice low.

"Tough shit, old man," the bird shot back.

"This ends, here and now," the older male responded, his tone cold, "I am your father and the adult."

"Oh yeah? Ask Batman how well that turned out for him?"

The fire of rebellion in him was raging strong. It was the same fire that helped him get free of Bruce.

"Watch your tone, and show me the respect I deserve, boy," the ex-soldier growled.

"Fuck you, old man," the youth snarled, his canines sharp, "Respect has to be earned. You've done nothing but threaten and kidnap."

"Last chance," the older man warned, his stance stiff.

"Get bent," the child growled, his fangs bared.

"Fine, have it your way," the criminal answered.

Without another word the older man strode towards him. Within a heartbeat and before Robin could react he was grabbed. The arms wrapped around him and he was forced to the ground. The air left his lungs and his jaw clicked together.

The sudden realization that Slade held back in their fights, always held back hit him. The strength was suffocating. The goal of defeating Slade at the strength he thought the man had vanished. This man was stronger than anyone or anything he came across. Even Clark.

He was pinned and immobile. He had no chance of breaking the hold. There was no room for movement. All he could do was lie there, and try not to panic.

"You have no control over your powers, you can't defeat me, or protect those you care about," the white haired mercenary listed, his grip tight, "What use are you, without training and discipline?"

"S-sl-," the boy stuttered.

"You can't do this on your own, you'll lose the fight. The beast will win, and you'll lose yourself. Do you want that," the man challenged, his gaze dark and stern.

"N-no, p-please, m'sorry, so sorry," the hero whimpered, his chest heaving, "Won't, won't happen, I'll be good, won't, I'll-I'll do better."

"Hush," the one-eyed male soothed, running his fingers through the young boy's hair.

"W-won't happen, promise, please," the boy whispered, his body trembling, "M'sorry, will listen."

"Alright, alright, easy, deep breath, relax," the white haired male coached, his touch gentle, "Just breathe."

His lungs filled with the cool air and his pulse slowed. He was able to catch his breath and focus.

"Good, you're okay," the man hummed.

The praise sent a shiver of warmth and the feeling of relief. It ingrained within him and soothed the ache. The wolf purred and the beast retreated.

"S-Slade," the young boy began, his voice quiet.

"Yes," the man responded, his touch gentle.

"Sorry," the teen whispered, "For losing control."

"Apology accepted, and it wasn't your fault, you couldn't help it," the criminal comforted, "You aren't used having someone to care and want to help. That will change. I promise you."

"Ok," the boy whispered.

The older male was right. It was hard for him. The instinct to run and fight were overwhelming. His memories were hazy and the shift took its toll.

"Good," the mercenary murmured, "Very good, just breathe."

Chapter Text

...

Robin didn't know how long it took before Slade let him up. It could have been a minute or an hour. All he knew was the moment he was released the tension left him.

"Alright," the man sighed, rubbing his temple, "Let's go. Food should be done soon."

Robin nodded and rose to his feet. His limbs were heavy, and his legs trembled. The fight and the transformation was taxing. He wanted to collapse and curl up somewhere.

"You're alright," the man reassured, "Take a moment."

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. The warmth was seeping through his skin. Without his permission his body relaxed.

"I'm going to get you some clothes for you," the white haired male murmured, "Can you wait here for a moment?"

Robin didn't move, and he didn't answer. Slade waited, and finally, when Robin didn't say or move he stepped away.

The teen closed his eyes, and breathed. It was hard, and the emotions were confusing. The wolf was happy and the beast was satisfied.

It was frustrating and aggravating. He wasn't supposed to feel any of these things. The conditioning was supposed to make him hate Slade, not like him.

He shouldn't like him. Slade was a villain and a killer. The man was trying to take him from his team.

Then again, the team didn't care. They didn't even look for him. No, he shouldn't think like that. They cared, they did.

Did they really, the small voice whispered, you were missing and no one looked for you. Not even Bruce.

He shook his head and swallowed. His throat was tight and his eyes burned. Why didn't Bruce care? What did he do wrong?

"I've got a sweatshirt and pants, the sweats should work, the shirt is a little big," the one-eyed man announced, placing the folded clothes in front of the him, "We'll get you more tomorrow."

Robin remained quiet, and stared at the soft gray material. It wasn't as fancy or expensive as his clothes at home, or the manor. But it was clean, and smelled nice.

"They should fit, though," the white haired mercenary continued, picking them up.

"Why are you doing this," the bird questioned, his voice weak, "Why bother?"

"You're my son," he replied quietly, "You're my responsibility to make you're cared for and healthy."

"Not anymore," the bird retorted, his chin rising.

"Biologically, you will always be mine," the mercenary corrected, crouching.

He didn't have anything he could say to refute that. The wolf was happy. His mom wasn't coming back. The idea of having a parental figure was something the animal wanted. It always wanted a pack.

"Do you have any other questions, or comments," the man asked.

"No, not now," the boy muttered.

"Alright," the mercenary answered, "Change. Once you're dressed come get some food."

He moved, and left Robin alone.

The hero watched him go. Then turned to the clothing and picked them up. They were a size or two too big, but would have to work.

The hoodie was large and warm. The fabric was thick and comfortable. The sweatpants were the same, only softer.

Sighing he left the room and headed for the kitchen. Slade was sitting at the island counter.

"Feel better," the older man asked, sliding a plate to the seat next to him.

"Yeah," the younger muttered.

"Come, sit," the criminal gestured, "Eat."

He moved, and sat in the empty stool. The smell of cooking meat made his stomach grumble.

"Eat, before the meat food cold," the older man stated.

Robin picked up the fork and dug into the meal. He ate in silence and kept his head bowed. The tension was palpable.

"What happens now," the hero mumbled, staring at his food.

"That's entirely up to you," the villain responded, his tone thoughtful, "You're free to return to the Titans or stay here. If you return to the Titans I want you to visit at least three times a week."

"You would allow that," the young hero gaped.

"Of course, Richard, you're allowed friends and a life," the white-haired man answered, sipping his water, "Just so long as you follow the rules and come when called."

He wasn't sure what to say. A part of him wanted to leave and never look back.

"What-what are the rules," the young boy mumbled.

"I'm glad you're willing to hear them, lad," the villain replied, pushing his empty plate away, "They are simple."

"Like what," the child pressed.

He dropped his fork and the food was forgotten. Slade stared at him for a moment.

Then he said, "You will eat three meals a day, no matter how busy. Twice a week you will train with myself. Eight hours of sleep every night. As for your wolf, if there is an issue come here. Finally no lying to each other. I might not always be able to answer your questions but I won't lie to you. I expect the same respect."

"Those don't seem so bad," the bird whispered, his shoulders relaxing.

"It's a work in progress, if we need to adjust them, we'll discuss it," the one-eyed male promised.

"Ok," the teenager mumbled, fiddling with his fork.

"Finish eating," the criminal ordered.

The teen picked his fork up and continued his meal. He ate half, before his appetite faded.

"Is that enough," the mastermind questioned.

"Yes," the young bird replied.

"Alright," the older male murmured.

"Thank you," the young hero muttered.

Slade's gaze gentled as he said, "You're welcome, Richard."

Robin flinched and his shoulders hunched. He didn't want to have this conversation. He wanted to hide.

A question however entered his mind. Before he could stop himself he asked, "What is your real name?"

Slade blinked at him in surprise before he answered, "Slade Wilson."

What? If his real name was Slade, it didn't make sense for his villain name to be Slade.

"Are you confused," the mercenary chuckled, tilting his head.

"Yeah, a little," the bird admitted.

"The cape community knows me by another name. Deathstroke the Terminator. If you had contacted Batman and described me he would have told. Then immediately found his way to Jump."

It made sense. If Slade knew anything about Robin's current relationship with Bruce. He would know that Robin wasn't on speaking terms with his guardian.

"Ok," the kid sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Are you still tired," the white haired mercenary asked, his eye on him.

"Yes sir," the bird mumbled, yawning.

"How does a nap sound," the man inquired.

"Uh," the hero mumbled, unsure.

"You need rest," the man informed, rising, "Fighting commands and your wolf no doubt has taken a lot out of you. Why don't you go back to your room?"

"Yeah, uh ok," the teenager muttered, nodding, "If you're sure."

"Get some sleep," the white-haired man commanded, his eye gentle, "You can ask questions later."

Robin nodded and got up. He moved back down the hallway. His body was moving sluggishly and he wanted nothing more than a bed.

His room was the same as earlier. A small and bare bedroom. At the time the space didn't seem that bad.

He crawled onto the bed and laid his head down. Sleep claimed him and his dreams were a mess of colors and voices.

Chapter Text

...

Richard wasn't sure how much time passed. When he woke his muscles were sore and the hunger had returned. The smell of cooking meat lured him from the bed.

The scent grew stronger and his stomach grumbled. It had been awhile since he had a home cooked meal. None of the Titans were any good at cooking. Mostly it was they were just able to keep themselves from poisoning themselves.

"Hey, there, lad," Will greeted, a smile on his face, "Sleep well?"

"Yes sir," answered Robin rubbing at his eyes, "Where's Slade?"

"He got called out for a job," the former military replied, "Won't be back till morning. You're stuck with me tonight."

"Oh," the bird mumbled.

He wasn't sure what to make of the older man. Will wasn't like Slade. The white-haired man had no issues talking and sharing his thoughts.

"I hope you're hungry," the ex-military laughed, turning the stove off.

"Starving," the boy groaned, "Smells good."

"Then sit," Wintergreen ordered with a wave towards the table, "Dinner is ready."

"Right," the boy nodded, taking a seat, "So, how'd you meet Slade."

"We were soldiers together," the ex-military hummed, setting the plate in front of him.

"And now you're what? His right-hand-man," the boy asked, looking at the food.

"In a manner of speaking," the elder grinned, "More like his mother hen, or babysitter."

"Why," the young boy blinked.

"I've known him a very long time," the elder soldier said, a wistful expression crossing his face, "Even back then, he was different. He's not the easiest person to get along with, let's put it that way. Even now, after everything, I can't abandon him."

Loyalty. A quality not often found.

"Everything?" He echoed.

"The experiments and the serum," the white-haired man explained, his hands clenched.

Robin tilted his head to the side. What was that supposed to mean? Experiments and serum?

"Don't," the old soldier sighed, his hands raising, "If you value your hide, don't ask Slade about it. He's not keen on remembering his time in the army. That and it's a topic not suited for young ears."

"Okay," he agreed quietly.

"Now, why don't you eat," the white-haired male urged, nodding to the untouched plate, "Before the meat gets cold."

"Alright," the child sighed.

The older male waited until the boy had a few bites in him, before speaking again, "So, Slade mentioned that the team didn't notice you were missing."

Robin paused his hand halfway to his mouth. He was unable to hide the flinch.

"Sorry," the retired soldier grimaced, his hands raised, "I didn't mean to pry."

"No," the teenager shook his head, "It's alright. Yeah, no one noticed. It's part of the wolf inside me. The ability to walk amongst people unseen and unheard."

"An interesting skill," the former military hummed.

"Mom always told me not to tell anyone," the young bird muttered, his lips pursed, "It was our secret."

"Smart lady," the elder agreed, nodding.

"She was," the teen murmured, his throat tightening.

"Do you miss her," the white-haired male questioned.

"Everyday," the young bird answered, "My memories are hazy. Sometimes it feels like I'm forgetting her."

"Hazel brown," the former solider recalled, a sad smile crossing his lips, "Kind eyes and a kind heart. She had a temper though. Didn't tolerate nonsense and could fight like no tomorrow."

"You knew her," the teen gasped.

"We both did," the elderly man chuckled, a faraway look on his face, "We were good friends. Your father loved her and she, him."

"Did he know mama was a wolf," the child questioned, tilting his head to the side.

"Nope," the ex-military replied, shaking his head, "She hid it well like you do."

"Does Slade," the boy questioned.

"Does he love you," the older man asked.

"I-uh," the younger faltered, his cheeks flushed.

"Let me put it this way," the elderly male chuckled, leaning against the counter, "He was distraught when he learned Mary was killed. We were out of the country at the time and Slade canceled the job he was on to return. By that point however, Wayne already took you in."

"I ran away several times," the teen confessed, "Unlike most people, Bruce could always see through my ability to hide. Alfred couldn't though."

"Why did you run?" the ex-military questioned.

"I never felt as if I belonged," Robin answered his eyes trailing away from William, "It wasn't like that at the circus. They were my family. But then mom died. Bruce tried to help but-"

"You're not the average child," the white-haired male guessed.

Slowly Robin nodded.

"What else happened," the former military probed.

"Nothing, not really," the dark-haired boy admitted, "He tried to be there, tried to understand, and sometimes, sometimes, he would."

"But," the elder encouraged.

"I could tell," the youth murmured, his gaze dropping, "He didn't really want me, not in the beginning, maybe not ever."

"Oh, Richard," the man whispered, his eyes sad.

"He didn't trust me," the teen continued, "Or, didn't care. After awhile, the manor became a prison."

"A prison," the ex-soldier repeated.

"Bruce is a control freak," the hero answered, his eyes narrowed, "I could never escape him."

"Is it possible, the two of you have miscommunications," the older male suggested.

"He doesn't try to understand, or even ask," the bird mumbled, his head lowered, "It's all, 'Don't do that, don't do this,' 'Go to the party, be seen' 'Talk with them, make allies' and the list goes on."

"I'm sorry, that sounds tough," the retired soldier sympathized.

"The worst is, if I refuse," the hero muttered, his teeth clenched, "If I refuse, or fight him, the punishment is harsh and cruel."

"What's the punishment," the older male queried.

"Locking me in my room," the teen spat, his shoulders trembling, "I don't do well with being confined. And I can't handle small spaces."

"You had a rough life," the white-haired man breathed.

"Sometimes, it wasn't too bad," the child murmured, shrugging, "Alfred was kind. But it's hard."

"How so," the retired soldier questioned.

"I'm an abnormality," the bird replied, his voice hollow, "Not a human. Not a wolf."

"You're both, and neither," the ex-military answered, "I'm sorry child. No one should be forced to live like that."

"What do you mean, forced to live like that," the hero frowned.

"To feel the pain of isolation," the older man sighed, his eyes sad, "Wolves are meant to have a pack. To be alone and abandoned, hurts them deeply. They will die without someone to care and provide for them. Lad you need someone to connect to."

Robin looked down at his hands. Wintergreen was right. He did need someone to connect with. But how could he when people looked right through him? Being around Beastboy wasn't enough.

"Don't worry," the elder assured, his voice gentle, "We will help. You'll find the connection and belonging."

"I-," the bird started.

"Trust, takes time," the former soldier answered, smiling, "It will come. Just, don't lose faith."

"Ok," the child replied.

...

Slade entered the base. The job was successful and quick. His employer would have his information by tomorrow afternoon.

"Sir, is the job done?" Wintergreen asked.

"It's taken care of," the man informed, "How is Richard?"

"He ate and curled up by the fire in the library," the white-haired man explained.

"Is he asleep," the ex-mercenary inquired, tilting his head.

"Yeah," the elderly man confirmed.

"Good, did he tell you anything," the masked man queried.

"Just his view of Batman and the titans," the ex-military replied, grimacing, "Nothing good, unfortunately. He's lonely."

"Of course," the mercenary huffed, "I will go see him."

"Alright, good night, Slade," the elderly man hummed, his expression gentle

"Goodnight," the mercenary nodded, moving towards the library.

Richard was sleeping curled up by the fire. A blanket wrapped around him. On the coffee table was a history book. For a moment Slade just watched the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Slade approached and knelt next to him. Carefully he gathered the teen into his arms.

"Dad," greeted Robin sleepily in Romani, "You're back."

Slade jolted at the foreign words and glanced at the tired teenager. The sleepy grin sent a surge of affection.

"Yeah," the villain agreed, "Go back to sleep, lad. We can talk more tomorrow."

"Mm," the kid mumbled.

He closed his eyes and fell back asleep. The villain carried him towards the bedroom and tucked him under the covers.

"Sweet dreams, Richard," the man whispered.

Chapter Text

...

Robin woke and yawned. It was the most rested he had been since before he became Robin. His body was relaxed and his muscles weren't tense. The smell of breakfast was heavy in the air.

Stretching he crawled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Wintergreen were cooking and the radio was playing. It was noisier than normal.

"Morning," Robin mumbled, his eyes squinting.

"Hello, Richard, did you sleep well," greeted Wintergreen.

"Yes sir," the boy mumbled.

"Good, breakfast is almost ready," the elder responded.

"Alright," the bird muttered, rubbing his eye, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can set the table," the white-haired soldier ordered, his smile gentle.

"Yessir," the hero slurred.

He turned and went to the cupboards and pulled three plates and utensils out. Once he had them, he placed them on the counter. Then he grabbed the cups.

"Do we have milk or juice," the dark-haired bird questioned.

"Juice," the elderly man called over his shoulder.

"Okay," the young teen muttered, pulling the fridge door open.

Grabbing the orange juice he placed the bottle on the counter. Then he moved back towards the cabinets. Pulling a glass from the shelves, he brought it over and poured himself a drink.

As he was pouring the juice, his wolf lunged forward. Robin was able to keep the beast from attacking but the urge was overwhelming. He dropped the juice pitcher and the glass shattered. A hand came up to grip the front of his shirt.

Panting he tried to regain control. It was useless. The wolf was demanding a hunt. It wanted food and it wanted to kill.

"Robin," a familiar voice snapped, a strong hand gripping his shoulder.

Slade... he couldn't allow them to get close to him. If he did they would get hurt.

"Get back!" The teenager shouted, pushing the hand off, his body tense.

Inside his wolf tried to claw its way to the surface. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

"Calm," the mastermind demanded, his voice sharp, "Now."

His limbs were shaking. Everything was blurring together. The line between human and wolf was no longer distinct.

"Richard," barked Slade but he could barely hear them.

Everything was getting farther away and his head was spinning. His skin burned and his vision darkened. Bones shifted and broke. The darkness overtook him.

...

Slade jumped back and pulled William with him. By the glaze to Richard's eyes, he was no longer in his right mind. The familiar black wolf stood where the boy once did.

The animal shook his coat out and sniffed the floor. It growled lowly at Slade.

"Richard," the ex-soldier warned, his fingers flexing.

The beast didn't answer and snarled at him. It's eyes went from Slade to the exit.

"No," the villain ordered, his stance firm, "Come here."

The animal snarled and stepped back. Its ears were pinned flat and its lips were drawn back.

"Don't run, come here," the criminal commanded, his hand gesturing.

Will stayed back realizing the danger they were in. He may not be a fighter any longer, but he was observant.

"Now," the mercenary barked, his tone firm.

Richard bared his teeth and whined. His head tilted to the side.

"Do not challenge me, child," the older man growled, his tone lowering, "I'm not playing."

Richard's wolf wasn't listening and the tension in the room rose. It didn't recognize him in the same way Richard did.

"Slade, watch yourself," Will cautioned, his hands raising.

"Easy," Slade cautioned.

Richard didn't like that and let loose a vicious snarl. The hair on the back of his neck was raised and his fangs were sharp. He lunged for Slade.

The mercenary was prepared for it and easily side stepped the attack. In a blink the animal had changed course and darted for the door. The door wasn't a match for the beasts strength.

Slade didn't waste a moment and charged after the escaping predator. Richard had already vanished.

Fuck!

"Will call our contacts! I'm going to track him," the one-eyed male ordered.

"On it," the old soldier called.

Without a second thought the criminal followed the wolf's path. He would find the teen and bring him home.

...

Robin didn't know where he was or what happened. His memories were a jumble and his mind was hazy. The world was fuzzy. It was the second time he woke up in a pile of trash.

Where was he? How did he get here?

A sudden wave of pain surged through his head and his breath left him. Groaning he laid still, waiting for the feeling to pass.

It took a minute or two, but it finally did. Blinking slowly he sat up. The movement caused his vision to spin and nausea hit.

"Shit," he cursed.

He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. The metallic scent of blood was all over him. As if he had taken a bath in blood, human blood.

He swallowed back the rising panic. There was nothing he could do. The wolf did what it did, and he would have to deal with the consequences.

"Alright," he murmured, his head throbbing, "Let's, let's find out where I am."

Standing up he swayed. Biting back the groan he stumbled over to the dumpster. Nausea hit hard and the stench of the garbage made him gag.

"Ugh, gross," the child complained, wrinkling his nose, "God, how much blood did I spill? Who's blood?"

His clothes were caked in dried, sticky, congealed blood. It was in his hair and under his nails. He had definitely hurt or even killed someone.

"Fuck," he cursed.

He needed a change of clothes. The ones he wore would need to be destroyed. No one could learn he was a monster.

"First things first, I need to get home," the teen mumbled, taking a shuddering breath, "And then I'll worry about everything else."

But did he really want to return to Slade? Was it safe?

The last thing he remembered was being at getting juice. His wolf had surfaced. That would explain the blood.

He was too far gone and no longer in control. Slade could have been killed. Wintergreen could have been killed.

He was a danger to everyone around him. That meant he couldn't go home. He would never put the team in danger. After all this it was unlikely they would want him.

"Alright, no, don't think about it," the teen grumbled, shaking his head, "Need a new set of clothes. But, uh, shit, um, where can I get some?"

He didn't even know what part of the city he was in. It looked like a poorer section of the downtown area.

"Well, it's worth a try," the teen shrugged, his shoulders slumped.

Taking a deep breath he turned and began walking. His feet were dragging and the headache wasn't going away.

It was the middle of the day meaning he was missing several hours of memories. As he made it out onto the street he passed by a store. In the front was a tv with the news on.

"Police are still looking for a large black dog or wolf hybrid that attacked an individual earlier this morning," the woman announced, her tone solemn, "If anyone has any information please contact the number listed below. Now to Mark with the weather."

"Attacked?" the teen choked, his eyes wide.

He had no idea who it was, or what condition the victim was in. But he had attacked someone. Again.

"God," the hero gasped, his throat tight, "Why can't I control it?"

He leaned against the wall and struggled to breath. Tears burned and his vision was growing spotty.

"I can't-," the child gasped, his hands clenched.

What was the point in living if he couldn't control his inner beast? He was dangerous, a monster. He was supposed to protect and yet he had hurt others.

"Maybe, maybe I should," the teenager whimpered.

Dying would be preferable to this. It was selfish. But could he live like this, a danger to everyone? What good would he be as a superhero?

Chapter Text

...

It had been a couple hours since Slade had lost track of the boy. No one had reported anything either. The sun was getting lower in the sky and it would be nightfall soon.

"How is the search coming," the mercenary questioned, entering the base.

"So far no word," the ex-soldier informed, his voice grim.

"Fuck," the white-haired man hissed.

"Patience," the ex-military advised, his face tired, "Richard can't have gotten too far."

"It's been three hours, and no word," the mercenary argued, "And there is that attack. We can't be sure it's him."

"Slade, we have a few contacts keeping their ears open," the older male pointed out.

"They can't find a black dog," the younger growled, "How the hell are they going to find a kid?"

"Give it some time," Will suggested.

"We might not have it," Slade responded, his voice grim, "If Richard's wolf got loose, he's a danger to the people."

"He's scared and confused," retorted Will.

"Exactly," said Slade, "That makes him more dangerous."

"He needs someone," sighed Will.

"If we're lucky we will be that person," remarked Slade.

"He's a kid," muttered Will.

"Which means the wolf will be driven by emotion and not reason," the one-eyed man argued, "The more scared or panicked he gets the worse the situation will be."

"I'm aware," the white-haired man acknowledged, his expression weary, "We just need to find him before Wayne and the Titans do."

"They won't kill him," the retired soldier countered.

"No, they won't," the ex-mercenary agreed, his mouth in a firm line, "However, they can't help him either. He's different than them. He will need someone to teach him."

"Teach him," the former military parroted, "Are you considering teaching him? Slade, he isn't exactly human."

"Yes," the one-eyed man hummed, his eye narrowing, "And he's my son. That's what counts."

"You're going soft," the elder man laughed.

"For the love of," the younger man scowled.

"It's a good thing," the white-haired male promised, "You have a chance at something real."

"I'm aware," the white-haired man replied.

"Good, so now we have to focus on finding him," the elderly man stated, "If the Titans or Wayne gets to him, then all the progress is for naught."

"We're not giving up," the former soldier declared, "We can't. He's too important."

"We'll find him," the former mercenary assured.

"I'll keep searching," the white-haired male promised.

"And I'll make another call," the one-eyed male stated.

...

Dick stole a t-shirt and jeans off a clothing line. They didn't fit quite right but they were a little better than his current rags. He didn't have anything to wipe the blood off. Still it was better than nothing.

He didn't even remember eating the food. He did recall the pain though. A dull aching throb.

He wanted his pack, his father, but was too scared to go back. Slade and Will didn't need a killer. The streets were becoming emptier. He didn't like the feel of the darkening alley.

A sudden burst of fear sent the adrenaline running. Something was stalking him, or something was behind him. He couldn't tell. He spun, only to be met with an empty alley. He couldn't shake the feeling however. Someone was watching him.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and his skin crawled. Whatever was stalking him was closer. His gaze swept the street, trying to catch a glimpse of his observer.

A loud thud made him jump and he whirled. There was a small cat perched on the bin lid. It was staring at him with unblinking golden eyes. Just a fucking cat.

He released a shaky sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow. For a moment there, he had thought something was after him.

"Fuck, I'm loosing my mind," the hero groaned.

A growl drew his attention and his spine straightened. Standing a few feet away was a dog. Its lips were pulled back revealing razor sharp fangs.

Dick bared his teeth in return. His eyes flashed with his own wolf. A low rumble vibrated through him.

It yelped before retreating. Dick was relieved when it vanished.

"Damn dog," he spat, his chest heaving.

It had been awhile since he had run. Maybe the Titans would forget him. Afterall he had left without telling them.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and the child froze. Fuck! He should have paid attention.

Throwing himself forward he tried to breakf the grip. All that did was cause the assailant to stumble. The man tightened his grip.

"Get off me," the boy ordered, kicking backwards.

He had managed to land a blow. But the person refused to release him.

"Kid, chill," a rough voice demanded, the arm wrapping around his chest.

A familiar scent and warmth washed over him. Safe, family, home.

"Sl-ade," the boy whispered, his voice wavering.

"Hello, child," the mercenary greeted, his grip gentling, "It's alright. Come, lets go."

"I-," the teen gasped, his heart beating fast, "I-I was- and I don't, Slade."

"Calm, easy, slow down," the white-haired man encouraged, rubbing his thumb over his collarbone.

Dick relaxed into the touch. Slade would help, would care. He was his family, his pack.

"Better?" the criminal asked.

His tongue felt heavy. Everything was jumbled together and he couldn't separate them.

"Come, let's go home," the one-eyed man ordered.

The command was comforting and his shoulders dropped. He followed the mercenary willingly to a nearby vehicle. He was pushed into the back seat. Will was in the front and Slade got in beside Dick.

"I didn't mean to-," the boy began, his head bowed.

"You can't control your wolf," the masked villain answered, "We realized that earlier. And the attack-."

"I'm a murderer," the child sobbed, his throat tightening, "I-I-."

"Breath, child," the elder instructed, his tone calm, "You aren't a murderer. Your wolf is."

"That's no excuse," the bird argued.

"It's not an excuse," the retired solider confirmed, "But it is the truth. You weren't in control, and therefore the guilt shouldn't rest with you."

"He's right," the mercenary agreed, his arms wrapping around the smaller frame, "The wolf isn't your fault."

"It is," insisted Dick.

"Richard, the wolf isn't a curse," the mercenary scolded, his eye narrowing, "You aren't cursed, you aren't evil."

"Then, then what am I?" the bird cried, his hands clenching.

Neither man said anything. They didn't have an answer for Dick.

"Let's get you home," Will interjected, his tone soothing, "It's been a long day."

"Okay," the hero sniffed, nodding, "Ok."

Slade reached out and Dick flinched. The man stopped and waited for the bird to relax.

"It's alright, kid," the one-eyed man comforted, gently carding his fingers through the child's hair, "I've got you."

Chapter Text

...

Richard wasn't sure how long it took to get to the house. All he could remember was being in the car. He couldn't recall entering the building, or walking through the halls.

The next thing he was aware of was the couch under him and the fire warming him. Slade was sitting beside him.

"How are you feeling, child?" the elder male asked, his fingers brushing his bangs aside.

"I, don't," tried to say Dick, his words slurring.

"Shh," soothed Slade, his hand resting on the teen's shoulder, "Easy, take it slow. Do you know where you are?"

"Y-your, place," the youth whimpered, his vision blurring.

"That's right, we're at our place," Slade affirmed, "You're safe, you're here."

"Safe," the bird murmured.

"That's right," the elder assured.

"Why?" the teenager whined.

"What do you mean, why?" the older male frowned, tilting his head.

"You shouldn't," the teen mumbled, his voice hollow, "Shouldn't want me. I'm a monster."

"Child, you are no monster," the retired soldier huffed, "And as much as it may seem like it, you aren't unwanted."

"But," the child breathed, his shoulders slumping.

"Richard," the man scolded, "I understand that you are worried. But trust me, no one is sending you back."

Dick whimpered and pressed against his side. Slade sighed and pulled the teen close.

"Do you know who attacked you?" the adult asked, his voice low.

"Attack-," the child paused, his brows furrowed, "I attacked someone. I-."

"Not that, the other attack," the one-eyed male clarified.

"Other," the hero choked, "I, I-."

"Don't worry about it," the masked male urged, his tone gentle, "Just focus on healing. We can talk tomorrow."

"Sl-ade," the teen whined, his head pounding.

"Sleep," the one-eyed man urged, his fingers massaging the birds scalp, "You're exhausted. Go back to sleep, kiddo."

"O-kay," the boy whispered.

He leaned further into the mercenary. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open. Slade was a calming presence.

"Relax, child," Slade ordered.

Dick obeyed, his muscles losing their tension. A content sigh escaped and his breathing evened out.

"Is he asleep?" William asked, coming in the room.

"Out like a light," answered Slade, "He'll need the rest."

"Poor kid," the old man muttered, "I wonder if his friends are missing him."

"Doubtful," the one-eyed male snorted, his lip curling, "The way I understand it, they barely noticed him gone."

"He must have been lonely," the elderly soldier frowned, "It's a wonder he's sane."

Robin didn't know anything else.

...

The second time the young bird woke, he was wrapped in a thick blanket. It smelled like his father, but his dad was nowhere in sight.

The sun was beginning to set and the world outside was getting darker. Where was Slade?

Sitting up, the hero stretched and yawned. God, he felt tired and the headache was still there.

"Good, you're awake," Wintergreen greeted, carrying a tray over, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, and sore," the hero admitted, his gaze falling to his hands.

"Are you hungry," the elder questioned, setting the food down, "There's a bowl of chicken soup."

"Thank you," the raven haired child responded, smiling slightly.

"You're welcome, lad," the old soldier smiled.

Dick took the spoon and lifted a small amount. It was hot but delicious. Wintergreen ruffled his hair.

"What are we doing now?" the teenager asked, his voice soft.

"Resting," the elder informed, his smile gentle.

"For now, yeah," the youth murmured, "What about the future?"

"Well, Slade was thinking about training you," the elderly man admitted.

"Training, I'm a hero," the child reminded.

"You're not an ordinary hero," the former military stated, his tone gentle, "You have a unique issue, one that is dangerous. Without the proper training, you will hurt yourself or others."

"So, train to kill," the bird whispered.

"To defend," the ex-military corrected, "And control."

"Right," the teen mumbled.

"You need a firm hand," the retired soldier reminded, his eyes sad, "If no one teaches you, you could seriously hurt or kill people."

"I know," the young boy confessed, his body tense.

"No matter how this turns out," the ex-military reassured, squeezing the boys shoulder, "I promise, you are loved."

What did it mean to be loved? He wasn't even sure anymore.

"I hope so," the boy mumbled, his throat tight.

"You are, trust me," the elderly man insisted, his gaze serious, "We won't abandon you. Even if the situation changes, or gets more complicated."

"Ok," the hero responded, not quite believing it.

"Trust, takes time," the man stated, "In the end, I can promise you this. Neither of us will ever purposefully leave you."

"Thanks," the bird said, his stomach twisted.

"Don't worry about the past," the former solider reassured, his tone kind, "Focus on the present. What can you do to feel better?"

"Um," the hero stammered, "Maybe a bath. I smell gross."

"Alright, a bath," the elderly man nodded, "I'll run the water. Come to the kitchen when you're done."

"Okay," the hero acknowledged.

He was left alone and the room fell quiet. There were no sounds. Not even a ticking clock.

The silence was unnerving. Pushing his thoughts away, he focused on finishing the soup. It was easier than facing his own doubts and worries.

A few minutes later, he stripped and stepped into the bath. The warmth surrounded him. He laid in the water and closed his eyes.

The warm water was a pleasant distraction. The heat seeped into his body and soothed the ache in his bones. It had been a stressful few days.

He scrubbed his skin and rinsed the dirt and blood off. Then he relaxed, sinking into the bubbles.

He wasn't sure how long he had sat there, but it was awhile. He couldn't hear the two men or their conversation.

His wolf was dormant. He was thankful for it. The last thing he needed was the creature stirring and surfacing.

Eventually he climbed out and dressed. It wasn't his pajamas. Instead he was in a pair of shorts and a plain shirt.

Stepping out he headed for the kitchen. He could hear the voices of the other occupants. Dick froze and listened in.

"He's in the bath," Wintergreen explained.

"Alright, did you make him a plate?" the mercenary asked.

"Of course," the former military answered, "What do you think about the attack? The news said he will survive, but the damage is severe."

Dick shook in his hiding place. He couldn't hear anything else. Someone had been badly injured, because of him.

"They questioned the changeling friend of Robin's," continued Wintergreen, "Asked if the boy could be the culprit."

"That's absurd," scoffed the criminal, "Kid has the mentality of a ten year old."

"Beastboy," the old soldier started, "knows about Robin's otherside. He doesn't believe Robin is capable of attacking anyone. That doesn't change the facts.

"No, it doesn't," agreed the mastermind.

They went quiet for a long moment and Dick leaned forward. His stomach churned and his head was spinning.

"You should come and eat, Richard," called Slade.

How had they known? Fuck!

Taking a deep breath, the boy moved and entered the kitchen. The older two males were waiting.

"Sorry," the child apologized, his expression sheepish.

"No apologies necessary, kid," the old soldier dismissed, his face open and kind, "Go ahead and have a seat. You must be hungry."

"Uh, thanks," the bird nodded, his heart hammering.

He wasn't sure what would happen now. Slade didn't seem to know the identity of the person attacked.

"After you've eaten, we'll be doing some tests," the mastermind declared, "I have a few things I want to check."

"Oh," the child murmured.

"We need a better understanding of your inner beast," the ex-mercenary hummed, his tone even.

"Yes, sir," the child replied.

"It's not to hurt you, child," the white-haired man reminded, his voice gentling, "The better we understand your wolf the more prepared we will be."

"Understood, sir," the child answered still not looking up.

"Once we're done, you can return to your room and relax," the villain hummed, "And if you don't want to sleep, you can go to the library and read."

"Thank you, sir," the child replied, his mouth dry.

"Eat first," the mercenary instructed.

"Okay," the teen agreed.

It didn't take long and the boy was finished. Slade didn't allow him to wash the dishes. Instead he placed a hand on his shoulder and directed him to the infrimary.

Dick sat on the table and allowed the adult to attach the cords. Each sensor was carefully put in place.

"Can I ask, about?" the teenager began, his hands clenching the edge of the table.

"You're not in trouble, child," the mastermind huffed, "Whatever question you have, is fine."

"Do you know who I-," the child stumbled.

"You're worried about the victim," the criminal guessed, his eye narrowing.

"I-," the young hero hesitated.

"I won't tell," the villain promised, his hand gently grasping the bird's chin.

"Do, do you know?" the youth croaked, his stomach flipping.

"Yes," the mastermind confirmed, his fingers sliding along the bird's jaw, "It was a homeless man. His name is James Brown. According to the hospital, he'll live."

"That's," the bird breathed, his chest aching.

"You did not choose to attack him," the mercenary declared, "You weren't in control. I will help you with that."

"But," the bird objected, his lips quivering.

"Stop blaming yourself," the older male commanded, his tone firm, "Now, enough stalling. Lie down, and we'll start the scan."

"Yes, sir," the hero muttered, lying back.

The machine began running. Slade watched the monitor.

"Breath, and remain calm," the white-haired man ordered, "Keep your body as relaxed as possible. Any sudden movement will skew the readings."

"I know," the young teenager huffed, closing his eyes.

"Just making sure," the elder chuckled.

...

The boy was asleep when the scan was completed. Slade ran a hand through the child's hair as he waited for the results. A beep came a moment later.

To his surprise, the boy was missing his appendix. Not that it had already been removed. It wasn't an uncommon thing to lose, or remove the organ. However, the child should have a scar. He just didn't have it.

There were a few minor differences, nothing significant. One of the main differences was the boy's spine. It had extra vertebrae and an unusual curvature.

Another interesting note was his lungs. They were more powerful and flexible. In essence, his organs were stronger, sturdier.

"Huh," the criminal mused.

This would take a while.

Chapter Text

...

Slade read the results of the blood tests. He sent them to a friend to map his genome. He was trying to see if he could pinpoint the cause of the boy's genetic issues.

He couldn't. However, there were several oddities. One was the presence of canine DNA. This had caused the change, but why and where did the cells originate. It went further back than what his friend could trace.

The next strange aspect was the presence of a parasite. A virus was present and had altered the hosts immune system. Slade's contact couldn't identify the virus. Which meant it wasn't one on record. If it wasn't on record then, no one knew about it.

That made his job harder. Richard let out a soft whimper. The sound brought the adult's attention to the child.

"Richard," Slade called, his hand reaching over and smoothing his brow.

The boy jerked awake. His blue eyes were wild and his chest was heaving.

"Sl-," the boy gasped, his teeth gritting.

"Breathe," the criminal instructed, his eye softening, "I'm right here. Just, take a breath. Calm down, kid. Focus."

The child obeyed. The tension melted from his shoulders. Slade smiled, his hand rubbing circles along the child's back.

"It's ok, you're safe," the retired soldier promised, his grip tightening, "You're at home, and you're not alone."

"Thank you," the bird whispered, his cheeks flushed.

"You're welcome," the mercenary assured, his hand stilling, "How are you feeling?"

"A little nauseous," the child confessed, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"I'm not surprised," the elder remarked, his tone gentle, "You haven't been sleeping well and eating regularly. Do you want something for it?"

"Please," the youth groaned, his body trembling.

"Easy," the one-eyed male hushed, standing up and moving away.

It didn't take long. Slade returned carrying a couple pills and a cup of juice.

"Take this, it will help," the masked man stated.

"Thank you," the raven haired male replied.

"You're welcome," the older man said.

Robin took the pill and swallowed it. He chugged the rest of the liquid and handed the cup back.

"Feeling better?" Slade questioned, his eyebrow rising.

"Yeah, um," Richard mumbled, his brows furrowed.

"Something wrong?" prompt Slade.

Richard shook his head but wouldn't meet his gaze. He was chewing on his bottom lip.

"Richard, I won't get angry," vowed Slade, "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong sir," Richard mumbled not meeting his gaze, "Nothing is-."

"Child, look at me," Slade scolded, his tone serious.

Richard's eyes snapped to his. For a moment there was nothing said then his shoulders eased.

"Good," the older male praised, "Now, is everything alright?"

"Yes, sir," the younger responded.

"If anything is bothering you," the white-haired male stated, "Tell me. Now is not the time to hide things. We're family."

"Ok," the bird mumbled and leaned into Slade.

Slade rumbled low in his chest. He wasn't quite purring but the sound was comforting.

A minute later Richard admitted, "I'm afraid of my wolf. I, don't want to loose control again."

"Your wolf," the mercenary repeated, his hands gripping the youth's shoulder, "Is part of you. I won't pretend that you'll always like him. But, the truth is, your wolf is you. Two halves of the same soul."

"I can't-," the boy argued, his voice strained.

"Calm down," the older man commanded, "I will help you learn control."

"Control," the youth echoed.

"Your wolf is a separate being, yet the same," the father explained, his tone soft, "Denying him is the same as denying yourself. Both parts are essential. And they're both mine."

"Sir-," the hero tried.

"You are not a monster, child," the white-haired male soothed, his lips twitching upwards, "Neither is your wolf."

Disbelief. Self hatred. Doubt. Fear.

Slade looked up at the ceiling praying for patience. Then he scooped up the child and pulled him onto his lap.

"Relax," the mercenary urged, his voice quiet.

Richard froze for a second. The next moment he slumped against his guardian. Slade held him close and stroked his hair.

"Better," the mercenary asked.

"Mm-hm," the bird nodded, his nose buried in the other's shirt.

Slade waited. Richard didn't say anything for a long time. At one point he thought the child went to sleep again.

Until Richard said, "I'm tired of hurting others. I don't, I hate the fear, the uncertainty."

"As much as it pains you, sometimes there will be pain," the former solider informed, his hands stroking his back, "It's part of the deal. Being a hero is about doing what is needed to help."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," the hero argued.

"No, you don't," conceded Slade, "In the end, all we can do is accept what has happened."

"So, give up?" the youth accused, his eyes burning.

"You know better than that, child," scowled Slade, his eye narrowed.

"I know, sorry," Richard sighed, his head falling back against Slade's shoulder, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me, little bird," Slade rumbled, "You are mine."

"Pack," murmured Richard.

...

There had been no signs of Robin in days. Beast Boy was more worried about it than the other Titans were. Starfire was sad but not worried. Raven seemed relieved. Cyborg was a mix of feelings.

Beast Boy was upset, and frustrated. Robin was their leader, their brother. He felt a kinship with Robin. Robin who carried a wolf inside him. Beast Boy who carried all of the animals past and present.

Beast Boy wasn't a real beast. Robin was though. Beast Boy didn't mind. He wanted his friend.

Robin didn't answer his communicator. Beast Boy was scared. Did something happen? Was Robin ok?

He paced in the common room, his arms wrapped around himself.

"Friend Beast Boy, please sit," the alien princess urged, her expression pained, "Worrying will not make any better."

He knew that! Of course he knew that! Knowing didn't make things angry easier for him. They couldn't understand what it was like to be without a packmate.

"She's right, BB," the metal man agreed, "Maybe, we should give the poor kid space."

"Space," the shape shifter hissed, his body shaking, "Space. Are you insane?"

"Beast Boy," Raven sighed, her violet eyes closed.

"You are not the only one upset, Friend Beast Boy," Starfire pointed out, her brows furrowing, "However, there is no point in panicking. There is a reason Robin left. Perhaps, he just needed some time."

"And if something happens," the changeling growled, his body shifting between forms, "Then what? He's on his own and no one knows where he is!"

"Gar, buddy, I don't think anything will," the metal man protested, "The guy needs space. Maybe, we should-."

"No," the green eyed male shouted, his fingers sharpening, "I'm not leaving him alone! If you're not going to look for him, then I'll look on my own!"

Beast Boy stormed off. They didn't follow him. Good, they didn't care enough to help. He had his pack mate to find.

Wait maybe he could contact Batman? He might be able to track Robin better than Beast Boy.

...

Coming into the Batcave, Bruce found Alfred waiting. He had a tray set and the tea pot steaming.

"I'm glad to see you've returned," the elderly man hummed, his eyes scanning his ward, "Would you like a cup, Master Wayne?"

"Later, Alfred," Bruce dismissed, his voice gruff.

"Very good, sir," the butler replied, his tone polite.

Bruce didn't get more than a few steps away from the batmobile before the communicator went off. It was one of the Teen Titans but not Robin.

"This is Batman," he greeted, his voice firm, "Who is this?"

"Hi, I'm Garfield Logan, otherwise known as Beast Boy," the teen chirped, his expression grim, "But, we have a bigger problem."

"Problem?" the caped crusader frowned.

"It's about our leader, Robin," the shape shifter continued nervously, "A couple of days ago we went out to a festival and he disappeared. He hasn't come home and won't answer his communicator."

"Have you checked his room?" Batman suggested, his eyes narrowing.

"That was the first place I checked," the changeling revealed, his fingers fidgeting, "I can't track him, and the last signal he gave came from the middle of the city. And there's been animal attacks."

Bruce frowned. This didn't bode well.

"How many attacks?" the crime fighter demanded, his fists clenching.

"Two so far," admitted the child, "One is still in critical condition."

"When was the second attack?" the detective questioned.

"Two nights ago," the teen responded.

"And no one has seen or heard from Robin," the bat growled.

"Correct," confirmed the green-eyed male, "Do you know-."

"Robin will not be returning," the billionaire cut off, "I will find him and bring him back to Gotham."

"But," the kid gasped, his mouth open, "I-."

"You're too young," Bruce dismissed, "And this is no longer a Titans concern. Robin will return when he is ready. In the meantime, the Justice League will handle the matter."

"I'm not leaving him," the green eyed male cried, his ears pressed flat, "I'll look-."

"Enough," the billionaire snarled, his teeth clenched, "Send me his files and information on villains that have been in Jump recently. Do not interfere. Do not look for him. He will be safe with us. Is that understood?"

"I-," the shape-shifter muttered, his shoulders falling, "Yes."

"Good, the matter is resolved," the billionaire barked, "Do not waste your time looking for him."

"I-," the green-skinned teenager stammered, "I understand."

"I will be in touch," the bat announced, his tone icy, "Batman out."

As soon as the communicator clicked off, Bruce pulled off his cowl. Running a hand through his hair, he growled.

"Are you sure-," began the butler, his brow creased.

"No," the man admitted, his face grim, "I'm not. However, the situation requires immediate action."

"Perhaps, we should inform-," the British man advised, his eyes widening.

"Dick wouldn't just disappear," the businessman disagreed, his hands tightening, "Someone else is involved."

"Master-," the elderly man began.

"Alfred," Bruce warned, his eyes burning, "If Dick has been taken-."

"We must consider every possibility, including the most dangerous one," the British man reminded, his expression stern.

"Dick is gone," the millionaire grunted, his jaw clenching, "He wouldn't just leave his friends. Not unless someone was controlling him."

"You cannot blame yourself, Master Bruce," the butler stated, his frown deepening, "Master Richard has a habit of running away."

"He won't," the blue-eyed male huffed, his body rigid, "Not again. No, not this time."

"You cannot change the past, Master Wayne," the elderly man reminded.

"No, I can't," Bruce agreed, his gaze darkening, "But I can fix the future. I will not lose my family again."

"Master-," the butler began.

"Go ahead and send the alert," the caped crusader commanded, "I'll go to Jump. Call Clark and Oliver. Ask them to watch over Gotham."

"Yes, sir," the older male agreed.

Bruce headed to his room. It would take a few hours. Time he would use to prepare.

...

Dick rubbed at his eyes as he entered the kitchen the next morning. Wintergreen smiled and placed a plate on the table.

"What did Slade decide to do today?" the boy yawned, taking a seat.

"You'll have a break," Wintergreen declared, pouring a glass of juice, "Slade is checking on things from the tests yesterday."

"Ok," the teenager murmured, picking at his food.

"Eat," the elder man chided, "I worked hard on those eggs."

"Right," the boy laughed, digging in.

After breakfast he decided to work in the gym. It was relaxing and helped keep him calm. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of his earlier behavior.

His muscles were aching after an hour and a half. He wiped his face and neck. Heading upstairs he ran into Slade.

"Morning, sir," the young boy chirped.

"Hello, how are you feeling?" Slade asked, his tone neutral.

"Um," the youth stuttered, "Alright. What, are you doing today, sir?"

"Research," the father responded, his expression softening, "We need a plan. One that will protect you."

Protect him? He didn't need protection. But the idea that the older man wanted to make him safe.

"Ok," Dick mumbled.

Slade chuckled and ruffled his hair. The teenager ducked his head. A moment later, he leaned into the gentle touch.

"Don't worry, kid," the one-eyed male promised, "Everything will be fine."

Chapter Text

...

Dick stayed close to Slade for the rest of the day. Part of it was his curiosity. The other part was fear. Fear that he might lose control again. If Slade was bothered by it he didn't say anything.

Dick's fingers twitched and he tried to ignore the sensation. His skin was itching. It wasn't to the point of a change but it was still annoying.

"Something wrong, Richard?" the older male queried.

"Hm, oh," Dick blinked, his gaze falling to his lap, "Nothing."

"Kid, I'm not stupid," sighed Slade, "Tell me what's wrong. Is the wolf acting up?"

"N-not yet," he confessed, his lips quivering, "I'm worried. My skin feels weird. What if I loose control again?"

"Richard, look at me," the white-haired man instructed.

Dick shook his head vehemently. A moment later his chin was being tilted upwards. Slade's eye was soft, understanding.

"Relax, Richard," Slade coaxed, his voice warm, "Just take a breath."

Dick breathed and allowed the tension to ease. Slade's hand moved and the boy's forehead was pressed against his shoulder.

"Better," the villain praised.

"Yes, thank you," the bird whispered.

"Good," the one-eyed male acknowledged, his lips twitching, "Now, tell me about your skin. Why is it bothering you?"

"Um, it's a bit hard to explain," the bird mumbled, his cheeks flushing, "I feel like there's a bunch of bugs under the skin. It's not painful, just an itch."

"Anything else?" the mastermind inquired, his voice quiet.

"My wolf isn't surfacing, if that's what you're worried about," Dick promised even if he wasn't sure if it was true.

"Alright," Slade huffed, his tone gentle, "If you think your wolf is about to come out, tell me."

"Yessir," the young boy answered.

"I will not allow anything bad to happen," the masked man swore, his eye blazing, "You're my kid."

"Pack," slurred Dick.

His wolf was acknowledging the man's claim. Dick wasn't completely sure if he believed the man's claim but the wolf accepted it.

"Precisely, kid," Slade smirked.

"So," the teen muttered, "What are you doing, exactly?"

"Looking over the results of the DNA testing," the mastermind hummed, his eye skimming the documents, "I want a better understanding of the genetic code and any alterations."

Dick hummed in response and settled closer. He watched the papers being examined and flipped. The wolf inside him settled but the itching was still there.

"Can I see?" Dick asked.

Slade didn't say anything, he handed a folder to the boy. Dick opened the file and scanned the papers. It was a copy of his genome.

"So, you're," the younger male stumbled, his face flushing, "My-."

"Your biological father, yes," the elder man finished, his expression grim, "Before the army, I married your mother. When I went into the army I was part of an experiment and they told Mary I died. She married John Grayson, and when I came home I decided not to tell her. Instead, I watched you grow up. I wanted to be sure Wayne treated you okay after Mary and John were murdered. I didn't know you were mine though."

"Mom, is where the wolf comes from," he said after a moment, "Mom always said to keep it secret. There are so few of us left."

"You're the first werewolf that I've met," the villain mused, his gaze narrowing.

"The name's actually shifter, not werewolf," the boy corrected, his lips pressing into a thin line, "We are born with the wolf, not bitten or cursed. And we are not the mindless killing machines movies portray. My current lack of control not withstanding. Silver burns like a bitch and there's certain things I can't eat."

"Really, is that the extent of your abilities?" the one-eyed man drawled.

"The biggest thing is the ability to walk unseen amongst most people. As a shifter, I can pass undetected if I wish," the raven haired male revealed, "That and enhanced senses, strength and speed. The moon phases factor heavily into how much. New and full moon I'm at my peak. I'm exhausted during the new moon however. I try to avoid going out during these times. If not for the Titans, I'd hide. As a general rule, the younger the wolf, the more volatile and violent the temper. The older and more stable."

"Fascinating," the criminal marveled, his gaze intense, "The wolf side, already acknowledges me as pack."

"That's cause we're related," Dick explained, his voice strained, "It makes it easier to establish the link. The bond has to be mutual. You have to want it and agree. That's why you never noticed anything."

"You never told Wayne?" the criminal frowned.

"Tell him what? That I'm a creature that doesn't exist?" Dick scoffed, his arms crossing, "Even if I had the courage to try and explain, he's the Batman. He wouldn't want anything to do with me. He'd probably disown me or lock me up. Either way, I'm fucked."

"Language," scolded the ex-merc without any real heat.

"Sorry," the boy apologized.

"Don't worry," Slade promised, his eye bright, "We'll work through the issues together."

"Together," Dick repeated, his gaze flickering up.

"Yeah, kiddo, together," Slade reassured him.

Dick wasn't 100% sure he believed Slade but it was better than any other option he currently had. The wolf in him relaxed and was content. It was such an odd feeling that he didn't know what to do with it.

"I have a question," the teen murmured.

"And what would that be?" the white-haired man inquired.

"Did you, do you love mom," Dick stammered, his body tense, "Or was she-."

"Your mother was special, I can assure you," the one-eyed male confirmed, his voice quiet, "She was a strong woman, a fighter. When I found out she remarried, I wasn't happy. However, your stepfather treated her well. He took care of you and loved her. He was a good man. I couldn't take that away."

"How long have you known?" the bird questioned, his heart racing.

"About Wayne?" the older man hummed, his fingers tapping, "Since the beginning. He's terrible at keeping his identity secret if you what you're looking for. I know most of the identities of the Justice League and their sidekicks."

"You can't tell anyone!" the teen exclaimed, his face paling, "Bruce will-."

"If I was going to sell Wayne's identity I would have already done so," waved off Slade, "I won't tell, unless its needed. You can trust me."

"Not," the boy mumbled, his eyes falling, "He'll-."

"Kid, the only other one who knows is Will," the older male disclosed.

"Oh," the boy murmured.

"No need to worry, kid," the masked man smiled, "Now, how are you feeling?"

"Sore, a little tired," the younger male admitted.

"Alright," Slade conceded, his tone firm, "I'm calling it. Let's get you something to eat and then you can take a nap."

"Sir, I don't-," the bird sputtered.

"It's not a request, kid," the former solider stated, "Come along. Now."

Chapter Text

...

Bruce growled low and his fist hit the punching bag. Oliver jumped and looked over at him.

"I don't think you'll find the answer by beating the hell out of the training equipment," the archer quipped.

"Oliver, now is not the time," snapped Bruce, his eyes narrowed.

"What's got your cape in a twist?" the billionaire asked, his gaze softening.

"Dick's missing," the blue-eyed male declared.

"Kid isn't with the Titans?" Asked Oliver now a little more concerned, "He avoids you like the plague since your... fight."

"No," growled Bruce, his teeth clenching, "The Teen Titans said that he left, no note or reason. They've tried contacting him, nothing."

Oh that wasn't good. If Dick ran off again-

"Why haven't the others joined the search," the archer demanded, his shoulders tensing.

"Because I said no," the businessman snarled, "If they get involved, its a media frenzy. Something is going on and I won't endanger the mission."

"You mean, you won't admit your wrong," the archer huffed, his mouth twitching, "If you actually tried talking to the kid, maybe this wouldn't happen. How is it I have a better relationship with Roy than you do with Robin?"

"This is not about us," the dark knight grunted, "Robin is in trouble and the Teen Titans are a bunch of children."

"They are heroes," corrected Oliver with a sneer, "Teen heroes."

"Regardless," dismissed Bruce, his jaw clenching, "Someone kidnapped the boy."

"Or he's avoiding you," retorted Oliver, "Listen, I'll call Roy and a few of the others. He's probably hanging out with some of the others. And again avoiding you again."

"Do what you will," the bat muttered, his hands fisted, "But do not involve the police. They cannot handle a case of this level."

"Understood," the archer replied, "Good luck, Bats. Try not to piss off the kid."

"Tt," the dark knight scoffed.

Oliver watched him leave and shook his head in disappointment. If the kid had been his, he'd have tried harder.

...

The smell of the Joker's terrible breath, and the pain of his punches. The fear was worse. Robin was tied to a pole and his head hurt. His vision was blurry and his stomach rolled.

"Wakey, wakey," the green haired madman cackled, "Come on, birdie. Wake up. Its playtime!"

A low growl escaped him. His blue eyes flashed amber as his wolf tried to come forward. A fist struck him. The world tilted and he coughed.

"Aw, birdie, don't look so upset," the joker cooed, "Let's have some fun."

"Fuck off, clown," he snarled.

Another punch, another wave of pain.

"That's no way to speak to a grownup, Bird Boy," the Joker snickered, his eyes wild.

"Let go of him, Joker," growled Batman.

"Oh, hello there," the psychopath giggled, "Batsy. Fancy seeing you here. What are you doing, oh right. We're playing. Right, Robbie?"

Robin's eyes narrowed as the insane clown pulled out a gun. He could smell a silver bullet in it with regular bullets. If he was shot with that he would die.

"Dick wake up," ordered a voice.

"Put the gun down," the vigilante snarled.

"No," the Joker sang, his expression crazed, "I like playing with toys. Isn't that right, birdie."

"Come on, Dick," urged a voice, "It's just a dream."

"Fuck you, clown," spat the acrobat, his lips pulling back.

The villain giggled and aimed at the bird's knee. The shot fire and Robin howled in pain. It was just a regular bullets thankfully.

"Now, that wasn't very nice," the psychotic criminal complained, his finger hovering over the trigger, "I might have to make the next bullet a big surprise. One you won't forget. Unless you'd rather I put it through Bat-dad's skull."

"Dick, focus, you're having a nightmare," the voice shouted.

Above them the full moon shone and Robin's inner wolf raged. It wanted to tear the fucking clowns throat out.

"Let him go, Joker," Batman barked.

"Why would I do that," the crazy villain laughed, "This is a lot of fun."

"Joker," the caped crusader snarled.

"Nope," the insane clown grinned, his smile wide, "Now, I'm starting to get annoyed."

The gun was pointed at Dick's chest. He was going to die. This was it.

"Say goodbye, birdie," the insane man cheered.

"Dick!"

His eyes flew open. He didn't recognize where he was and he was moving in a second. Without hesitation he shifted from human to wolf, feeling more secure in the beast form.

Bones cracked and shifted. Flesh rearranged and grew. In moments his mind was sharpened and his body changed.

Once he finished the change, Dick out himself into a corner. He was breathing hard and his nose twitched. He was searching the air for a threat.

"Dick, calm down," a voice commanded then softer, "Calm."

A figure stood next to the bed he had been on. They were in black pants and a black t-shirt. One hand was extended towards him and the other held a book.

Dick bared his teeth and his hackles rose. This wasn't right. Where was he? Who was that guy?

"Its alright," the male soothed, his voice deep, "Just breathe. You're safe. There's no danger. It's okay."

The man bent so that he was kneeling at eye level with Dick. A familiar blue eye caught his gaze. Pack. Safe.

The tension melted away. He slumped bonelessly in the corner. He didn't want to move, just rest.

"That's it, you're fine," the man praised, his arms stretching out.

Dick bumped his muzzle against the palm. The hand curled and scratched behind his ear. A purring rumble slipped out of him.

"You did good," the one-eyed man continued, "It was just a bad dream. Everything is fine."

Slowly Slade sat next to him. Dick laid his head across the man's thigh. A minute later his tail wagged and thumped the ground.

"Feeling better, kid?" the man inquired.

Dick nodded and rubbed his muzzle against Slade's thigh. Slade continued to run a hand through his fur.

"Would you like to shift back?" the one-eyed male suggested.

He whined and nosed Slade's hand. Slade huffed but didn't say anything else. Instead, he stroked Dick's ear and read.