This is sort of a... pilot story for a Batman AU I started working on. Actually my first fic ever so feel free to give some writing tips! Hope the characters aren't too OOC. I don't own any of these characters! DC does!
Note: These one-shots may not be in order! Check the date.
Summary: Serving the Wayne family can be hell. Series of Batman AU one-shots. Supernatural stuff. Set in mid-1800s. BatFam appearances.
Nov, 1853
Tim breathed in the November night air. It was cool and he could taste snow in the wind. His ragged and thin clothes would leave anyone else chilled but he didn't mind. He definitely prefered walks out in the cold to being cooped up inside stuffy candle-lit manor. It was a dark and cloudy night, but his eyes could see just fine in darkness. He turned and started to cross the lawn toward the woods. Perhaps a nice walk would clear his mind.
Lost in thought, he failed to sense the small shadow behind him.
Tim saw the sword busting its way out of his chest before he felt it. He let out a small yelp and stared at the blade, falling to his knees as it was withdrawn. Tim slumped and coughed out a mouthful of sticky blood. There aren't many beings that could have snuck up on him, but Tim had an idea who it was. He grit his teeth and turned to see his attacker.
Damian stared down at Tim, shaking in frustration and anger, though Tim could sense that the anger was not directed at him. Tim knew the look on his face and understood. Damian must have done something against his father's wishes and was punished for it. Now the kid was striking out at him to vent steam.
Tim turned his body around to face the boy. The blood from the wound had already stopped and he sould feel the burning that meant it was almost healed already. He tried to speak but just coughed up more blood, which received a disgusted look from Damian. After a few moments Tim asked, "D-Damian? What are you doing?"
Damian's scowl deepened, as did the pit in Tim's belly.
"Shut up, you stupid mutt!" Damian yelled, pointing his bloody sword at him. "I don't have to explain anything to you!"
With that, Damian charged at him. Tim scrambled away from him, barely dodging the sharp blade as it stabbed into the lawn an inch from his head. As Damian pried it out Tim rolled to the side and got to his feet, but the kid already had the sword free and and swung the blade wide. Damian's swing was much faster then Tim could react to. The blade hit his side and followed through his body cavity, opening it like a zipper. Tim fell forward but caught himself before he hit the ground with one arm, the other catching all his organs. He let out a yell in panic and flopped onto his back, then covered the gash with his arms, frantically trying to push his intestines back inside.
"DAMIAN!"
Damian turned from the bloody mess at his feet to find the source of the yell. A very angry Bruce Wayne was striding towards him across the lawn. The kid froze, his mouth slighty open. Anger flowed off his father in waves and as he approached Damian started to slouch, his ice blue eyes trained very hard at the ground in front of him.
Bruce stopped in front of his son and said very calmly, "You will never vent frustration by hurting others ever again. Do you understand me?"
Damian's face snapped up to look him in the face and started, "But father...", but seeing the look of disappointment on his father's face stopped him. His eyes unfocused as he looked past Bruce and agreed. "Yes, father."
"Get back up to the mansion. It will be dawn soon."
Damian numbly turned and started back.
Bruce turned his attention to a hyperventilating Tim, still trying to hold himself together. He knelt and put his hand lightly onto the young man's chest.
"Timothy, move your hands to the side and let it be. Your body will right itself."
Tim did as he was told. He had been stabbed and beaten countless times. He was used to the ache that came with a broken bone mending in minutes or the burning when a cut closed. And even the slightly bloated feeling that happened when his body was replenishing his blood supply. But this was nothing like anything he had experianced before. His organs moved inside him. Like worms, slithering over each other while they found a place to rest. As they began to still, his skin started to burn and the wound finally closed.
After it was over Tim stayed on his back, shaking, covered in sweat and blood. He knew if he tried to sit up his head would spin from the bloodloss. He looked to his side to see that Bruce was still there. Before Tim could speak though Bruce said, "Stay here and rest." and then turned walked back to the manor.
Tim watched him with tired eyes. So much for a walk. At least his mind was clear now. But he definitely never wanted to have to feel his insides move like that again. He could see the sun start to rise and decided that maybe a nap would be nice.
BONG
BONG
BONG
Tim woke with a start, sitting up quickly. He regretted the action immediately as his new blood rushed from his head. The lightheadedness passed quickly and he stood, stretching. He felt stiff and the skin around his middle felt tight. The sun showed that dusk would be in a few hours.
"Damn, I slept the day away...", he muttered to himself.
BONG
BONG
BONG
"Okay I'm coming already!", Tim yelled toward the manor.
As he strode towards the massive home, the stiffness faded and by the time he reached the front door, he was feeling right as rain.
Tim slowly opened the huge door and stuck his head in, peeking into the completely dark entrance hall. Seeing the room empty, he slipped into the manor and closed the door behind him. He made his way through the dark hallways with heavily-draped windows towards the back sitting room. Upon entering the blackened, room Tim's eyes went to the large table on one side where Bruce was sitting with several candles, papers splayed out infront of him. As Tim made his way across the room where his master was he heard a small voice from the large puffy chair in front of the fireplace.
"Sorry."
Tim stopped and turned toward the boy, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
"I should not have taken my anger out on you. I was... am... frustrated with my father's judgement. Also, you stink like dog blood." With that Damian turned back to the fireplace.
Tim looked down at his clothes. Cut to shreds and covered blood.
"Well that's not really my fault," he retorted.
Damian's only reponse was to suck his teeth, "-tt-"
As he turned, Tim saw Bruce staring at him. His eyes never left him as Tim moved to stand in front of the master of the house.
"I'm curious, what judgement is he upset about?" Tim asked.
"I caught him torturing a victim last night."
BANG
Damain's hand had crashed down on the table. Tim jumped about a foot. He didn't even hear him get up.
"That man raped three women and two young boys! And then he murdered them! He deserved what I did to him, Father!"
Bruce stood up slowly.
"Probably, but we do not torture before we feed on a life. You know that."
"Whatever, his blood tasted like mud anyway." And with that Damian turned in a huff and left the room.
Tim stayed rooted in place for a moment. Bruce stared at the door where Damian left. Tim noticed that his eyes looked tired. Even though his master was a vampire, and he didn't need sleep, he could tell that Damian was wearing on him. "Master Bruce?"
Bruces eyes refocused and turned to him. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he sat back down in his chair.
"I guess the 'children' of our kind are tempermental. I hope he will mature, even though I know his body will not. I also hope, Timothy, that you do not hold any ill feelings toward him after last night."
Tim was quiet for a moment. "No. I mean, he did say he was sorry," he said quietly to the table.
"Well, don't let him make a habit of it. If he does it again you may fight back."
Tim didn't respond. He didn't want to tell Bruce that even if he tried to fight back there would be no way he could defeat Damian in a fight. The kid was lighting fast and ruthless when engaged in battle. Tim could barely go toe-to-toe with him on full moons, and forget any other night.
Bruce held up a letter. It was thick and wrapped in twine. "I need you to deliver this to the Nelson Manor oustide Boston. Make sure you only put it Kent's hands. If you make the run tonight you should be able to get back my morning."
Tim took the letter and turned it over a couple times in his hands. "Is this the territory agreement? Why is it so large?"
Bruce stayed quiet.
"Master?"
Bruce sat back in his chair. "Damian. The Nelsons want information on him."
"What? Why?"
Bruce sighed and leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Most of the time, when children are turned into vampires, the results are disastrous. The children's minds cannot take the change and are tortured from the inside. Usually they are.. put down. But Damian has not had these troubles. His powers and strength grow every night and at a much faster rate than 'adult' vampires. The Nelsons want updates on his growth. One of the conditions of the agreement are these reports."
"Hmm. Does Damian know about this?"
"No." Bruce looked troubled. He really did not want to be doing this. But in order to keep the city he grew up in protected, he needed the Nelson agreement.
Tim sighed. "Alright, don't worry about a thing. I'll get it there." He turned to leave the room but stopped.
"Where's Alfred?"
"I sent him into town to pick up a few things."
"Oh. Well. See you in the morning." With that he left the room. Tim moved through the mansion quietly and exited on the opposite side of the main doors.
The walk to the stables was short. The sun was still up. About two hours to sunset. He figured it was enough time to wash up. The stables where empty; the Wayne family didn't own any horses. He set the letter inside and continued another 30 yards to the river, then stripped and waded in to clean off the dried sweat and blood. The water was freezing, and felt amazing. After he was clean, Tim returned to the stables.
He got out his harness and slipped it on. It was lose on his small form. Making sure the letter was snuggly placed inside a pocket, Tim returned to the lawn to watch the sunset.
He was giddy, excited, as he always was now during the sunset before a full moon. He couldn't wait to fly through the trees. To feel the night's wind on his face. To have the world open itself to him through its smells, sights, and sounds that weren't there any other night.
And after the last light of day had left the winter air a howl broke over the trees.