Food
A.N.: Been a while, huh? I admit, my writing isn't what it used to be, and I had to rewrite this chapter because the file on my flash drive got corrupted. Not only that, but the first few versions I uploaded were weird, since I couldn't add line breaks from my phone. But, I'm back at it and working like a dog. Enjoy!
Dick loved - no - lived for nights like this. The woods on the edge of Gotham, only a mile away from the mansion, had become his home away from home in the weeks after Leslie's visit, and tonight was one of the best he could remember.
The new, green grass was soft under his bare feet, and the surrounding mist cool on his skin, mingling with his sweat as he did pushups under the trees.
He paused when his phone rang as it lay in one of his shoes by a tree. His joints cracked as he got up, sighing as his muscles relaxed.
He leaned his back against the tree as he read Bruce's text.
Come back home. Need to talk in cave.
Dick frowned. Bruce rarely texted him something like that, and when he did, it was never good news.
Nevertheless, he stuffed the phone into his back pocket and shrugged his shoes on, wiping away the grass, dirt, and leaf litter from his feet.
Cricket song died away as he left the tree line behind him. Not two weeks ago, he mused, he would have been brought to tears by the shrill, strange music. Now, though, it didn't bother him so much; most nights, in fact, he could just block it out.
Something rustled a few feet away, and he instinctively froze, crouching low. The breeze changed, making his mouth water as it brought a tantalizing scent.
Something white was peeking out of a patch of clover. His stomach growled, and without needing to hear anything else, the rabbit darted out.
He tensed, ready to sprint after it, ready to catch it and sink his fangs into warm, wet-
Whoa.
He took a steadying breath, relaxing his muscles and standing up. The wolf, on the other hand, pushed to chase the thing. To finally hunt.
He squashed the urge down, ashamed for even having it. He didn't need to hunt. He wasn't a killer. Besides, he'd already eaten tonight.
The cave was as dank and dark as ever, but at least the bats had gone out for food, leaving only The Bat in cold and empty space, staring at his computer.
"What's up?" Dick greeted, gaining the man's attention and doing his best to block out the dripping stalactites and rushing, underground river.
"You should get some sleep; we're going to the vet, tomorrow," he said, resuming what he'd been doing. Dick nodded, lip curled at the thought of having to play dog, and turned towards the manor entrance.
"But not just yet," Bruce added, forcing him to turn around and face the man, who wagged a finger to call him over.
"What?" He asked, sliding into a chair beside him. He could see that the thing Bruce had been working on was a list of names.
"Do you recognize any of these?" he asked, wheeling back to give Dick access. He scrolled through the list, spanning several pages.
"No, why? Who's on this list, anyway?"
"These are all the people who gave blood that was still viable by the time you had your transfusion. Your blood type is B positive, so…" He hit a few buttons, and about a third of the list remained.
"Still too many to investigate before the full moon," Dick remarked. Even Bruce knew it was true; the full moon was a week away, and there were still about a hundred names left. "Any other ways to narrow it down?"
"Blood is usually stored for six weeks, but fresher blood is ideal, since the patient has less risk of rejection. You didn't experience any rejection symptoms, so the blood you received was likely about a week old, at the most." He amended his function, and thirty names remained.
"Barbara and I can take eight while you and Tim take seven. We'll go to New Jersey the day after tomorrow. Deal?" Bruce asked.
"No."
"No?"
"Barbara doesn't know; this is something I want to keep as far away from her as possible. All three of us can take 10; it'll be a little harder, but not too bad."
"Why didn't you tell Barbara?" There was genuine concern in Bruce's voice, now, concern that made his anger flare.
"It's none of your business," He snapped, getting up to leave.
"Is something going on between the two of you?" the older man pressed, turning his seat around.
"No," he replied through gritted teeth. Luckily, Bruce seemed to have the good sense to not follow him.
The door slammed behind him as he entered his room, turning to crank up the air conditioning before he flopped on his bed, the covers cooling his sweaty back and calming his nerves.
It wasn't fair of him to be so mad, he figured. Bruce was only trying to help, after all.
Sleep found him with that thought in mind.
"1006, 1008, 1010…" Dick muttered to himself. The hallways of the apartment building were uniform, each door only differentiated from the other by the number screwed into the wood.
A week had passed since Bruce and he had made plans to scope out the blood donors. Bruce and Tim were finishing up their ten, finding nothing so far, and he was having just as much success. He was on his last round now, seeking out some guy named Remus Fenrir in an otherwise blessedly deserted and darkened complex. Bruce had forced him to leave his headphones and mask at home, since it would attract unwanted attention. And even though he'd spent most of his time trekking through back roads and residential areas, he was glad of the lack of people.
He coughed, a rancid smell bringing him out of his thoughts. He couldn't tell if it was sweet, sickening, or both; all he knew was that it was going to give him a serious headache and probably vomit.
As he found 1014, the smell peaked, and he finally realized what it was.
He didn't bother with knocking or pleasantries. He didn't bother with picking the lock. Instead, he took a few steps back, hand clamped over his mouth and nose, and rammed his shoulder into the door, feeling the latch give slightly. Another bash and the door swung open.
His vision swam as he tried to observe the room. Flies darted about, coating the walls like a sick, living wallpaper. Some were scoping out a plate of half-finished spaghetti, which his suddenly sensitive stomach wouldn't let him get close to. An unmarked jar of marinara had tipped and spilled on the counter.
He forced himself to look away, instead staggering down a hall to the room where the flies seemed to be massing.
It was blue. Blue and red and grotesquely bloated and blistered as it hunched over the toilet. Rank liquids he couldn't recognize pooled around it on the floor.
Suddenly, his vision cleared and he could see what it was.
He backed out of the house, terror settling in his stomach as he dropped into a sitting position on the floor. He shakily pulled out his phone, clenching his hand to somewhat steady his fingers. He just managed to text Bruce, 'Need your help. Explain when you get here.'
He pulled a respirator from his utility belt, slipping it on. The fresh air it gave was sweet relief, so much so that he leaned his head back into the wall behind him, settling into the position.
His body sagged and his eyes drooped. As disgusting as they were, the flies' low hum was relaxing to listen to.
A flickering light drew his attention.
A lamp hovered over 1013, buzzing and faltering as if the bulb was on its last legs. Outside, he could hear nothing, as if the murmur of life had finally and fully ceased.
The carpet ground under his feet as he stood and approached the door, the handle feeling cold under his palm. Unnaturally cold. Otherworldly.
His apartment.
No.
No, not his apartment; that was in another state. But someone had certainly gone to a lot of trouble to replicate it.
The place was wrecked. Not only was there trash thrown about - trash he realized he had yet to clean up - there were more scratches on the walls, furniture laying in ruins, and bloodstains splotching the carpet.
"Okay," he thought out loud, detective skills bubbling to the surface. "Someone has recreated my apartment, trashed it, and led me right to it. Who, and why?"
It could have been the landlord, he supposed, but that left out the why. Had someone else broken in? And again, why would they want to do this?
Maybe it wasn't Remus who infected him. Maybe it was older blood, and one of the other donors had given it, and then wanted to keep him in line. Maybe it wasn't the blood at all. He'd been bitten by animals before, even once snapped at by Wolf. Maybe he'd been sick for a long time, and the virus had been dormant. Waiting.
Something drew a rattling breath behind him, making him turn.
Remus, staring at him from 1014's doorway with a cocked head and sunken eyes, rotting flesh giving off its foul, sweet stench. Dick covered his mouth and nose, coughing.
He slammed the door, double-locking it and staring through the peephole.
Remus was still there. Not trying to break through the door. Not even trying the handle. Just standing.
Dick coughed again. Blood. He coughed again. A bloody, putrid mush fell down his shirt and to the floor.
He started walking, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, paying no mind to the mess around him or his body falling apart. Only hurrying when the door suddenly shook against some sudden force.
His room was just as messy, the same scratches adorning the back of the door he'd closed. His bed was torn to shreds, springs poking dangerously out of the mattress. The place was hot, the smells so stifling it gave him a headache.
The front door broke in, and he could hear Remus's low growling. Could smell him as he made a beeline for the bedroom.
A shock ran through him, stinging his spine and seeming to settle in his gut, making him puke up another mess of blood and sick.
He locked himself in the bathroom, hanging over the sink. He stared into the mirror.
Yellow eyes gazed back at him, sharpened fangs revealing themselves when he bore his teeth. His raven hair fell over pointed ears, giving way to sideburns. The skin there felt smooth, but the hand in the mirror was combing through the facial hair.
The bedroom door fell in with a crash, making Dick flinch as another jolt ran through him. He breathed deeply, in through his nose and sighing it out of his mouth, trying not to gag on the taste of that rotting stench.
The door handle rattled. He stepped back, preparing to hide in the cupboard if necessary.
The final door fell open, and Dick found himself staring once again into Remus's bloodshot eyes, shimmering in the light. For each step it took, Dick took one back, until he tripped and fell, huddled, into the tub.
Taking another raspy breath, Remus reached out and grabbed Dick's shoulder, stinging pain dripping into his veins.
Dick woke up with a scream, pulling his head off the wall and letting his eyes painfully adjust to the newly lit hallway.
"Dick?" Tim asked hesitantly, Nightwing only just noticing him. He was kneeling in front him, worry crinkling his eyebrows. Dick could hear three pulses: his, Tim's, and Bruce's from the other side of the wall, probably investigating the crime scene.
"Must've dozed off," he said, groaning as he sat up straighter.
"It smells like death in here; how did you, of all people, manage to fall asleep?" Tim pressed, voice barely muffled by the respirator he wore.
Batman chose that time to step out, making both jump before he helped Dick to his feet.
"The victim was definitely Remus. Probable C.O.D.: food poisoning. And unless he had an antsy pet tiger, I'd say he's our guy. Frequent blood donor, scratches on the walls of his bedroom," he explained. Dick nodded, but the wolf inside squirmed and snarled.
"What are we going to do tonight?" he asked, reminded of the looming full moon. Bruce checked the time, ice settling into Dick's gut when he saw that it was 5 minutes to moon rise.
Without saying anything - without needing to - Bruce turned on his heel and hurried down the hall, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.
"Bruce," he called, following his mentor as the three of them jumped from level to level on the spiral stairs. "Where are we going? We won't make the street before it starts; we need a solution now."
"We'll get you back to the hotel, and I'll pay for any damages. Until then, you'll have to hold it back."
"And if I can't? If I get out of the room and start attacking people?"
"We have the means to sedate you." Dick groaned inwardly; of all the things he hated about full moons, tripping balls the next morning was his least favorite.
He could feel the heat setting in by the time they reached the third floor. Making matters worse, the stair jumping was making him breathless, unable to calm down. Apparently it showed, because Bruce only needed to take one glance back at him before his eyes widened and he hurried even more.
His head was pounding by the time they made the front door, so much so that he barely noticed the bystanders worriedly glancing at him or the police sirens a few miles out.
He ripped the respirator off his face, throwing the constricting thing to the ground where Tim picked it up. His sunglasses came off once they were in the car.
"Do you need anything?" Bruce asked. Dick flinched, both at the loudness of the man's voice and his burning touch on his shoulder.
"Just drive," he panted. He kept his hands clamped over his ears as the engine started, trying to block out the explosions in the engine.
The previous user of the rental car must've liked fast food. He could smell hints of grease combined with salt, wilted lettuce, and-
He jolted and nearly screamed when his whole body felt a sharp stab.
Focus, he told himself. You're falling apart, so FOCUS.
He gasped, pain striking him again.
His intestines squished inside of him, making him groan, pulling his knees to his chest.
Stop. STOP!
Trouble was he really didn't know what to focus on. His bones? Skin? Organs? Brain? Should he just ignore the transformation and hope it stopped?
He figured he should just take it as it came, which worked for about 10 minutes, until Batman stopped the car and bit out a curse.
Dick looked up and realized what was so terrible: Long lines of glaring taillights stretched endlessly ahead of them. They'd never make it.
This time, he did scream when his spine arched of its own accord.
Stop it!
About two miles to the right, he could hear wolves howling. The sign over the exit advertised a-
"Zoo," he blurted, throat hurting as it fought to change with the rest of him. "There's a zoo a couple miles that way. With wolves."
"You want to go there?" Bruce clarified. The turn signal clicked when he nodded his head, and they got off the main road.
The only strong human scent he could smell when they got to the zoo was the night watchman near the front door. Everyone else had left for the night.
The irony of the situation lost on them for the moment, Tim hacked into the door while Bruce scaled the wall and knocked out the guard, laying him on a bench.
Dick pulled his shirt over his head, enjoying the cool air as he made his way, barefooted, down a path. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd grown fangs, but now they hung out of his open mouth, dripping poisoned saliva. He felt like he had stopped the transformation on the edge of a cliff; allow it only a little bit more, and he wouldn't be able to stop it again.
"Dick," Bruce's voice called behind him. He turned to see both Bruce and Tim approaching, the former with a worried look on his face, and the latter with barely hidden shock.
"Do you need us with you?" The elder asked.
"No," Dick grunted out, avoiding their eyes. "No, I don't...no." The wolves howled again, calling him. "Come find us," they said. "We're here. Come see us. We're lonely."
For a moment, it was like some kind of realization dawned on Bruce's face, but he didn't rest on it.
"We'll leave you alone, then. Just get out of here, so he won't get hurt," Bruce finished, jabbing a thumb at the sleeping guard. Dick nodded, stripping the rest of the way once their backs were turned.
"We'll give him ten minutes, and then we need to keep him away from the wolf enclosure," Bruce planned out loud, giving pause when they heard Dick start screaming behind them.
"Why?" Tim asked, half for explanation and half to cover the sound of his brother's torture.
"If he gets in, one of two things could happen. Either he challenges the alpha or the pack realizes he isn't a normal wolf and kills him on the spot."
"Why's it such a big problem if he challenges the alpha? Wouldn't he win, seeing as how he's a freaking werewolf?" Bruce shook his head. Behind them, the wolves howled again, met by a clearer, louder, more jubilated howl from the direction Dick had gone in.
"As far as I know, he's never even hunted for himself, let alone fought. Might as well put a Shih Tzu against a wolf pack; it'd have better odds." Tim snorted at the thought: his brother, Nightwing, bat-trained fighter who had held his own against hundreds of people, was a wussy werewolf.
The air had gone silent, so Bruce sprang into action.
"Find an empty enclosure, if you can. If not, any empty cage will work. Once you've found it, comm me, and I'll lure it over."
"'It'?" Tim exasperated. He dropped it when his mentor glared, reminding him to get moving!
Bruce turned around the moment he was alone, headed in the den's direction, according to the signs. Already, he'd passed a bush with Dick's clothes behind it, but no sign of the man, himself.
Two minutes later, Tim radioed that he'd found an enclosure.
"I'm almost at the den. Stay where you are," he replied.
A few minutes after that, he froze in his tracks.
The exhibit was massive, studded with trees and wrapped in darkness. And, because the universe hated him, about ten signs hooked to the chain link fence presented information about the different breeds they had in the one enclosure.
Nevertheless, he turned on his flashlight and peered through the fence, the eyes of at least a dozen wolves shining.
His stomach dropped when he spotted a black wolf among them, its amber eyes illuminated by the light.
"Tim," he said through the communicator.
"Yeah?"
"Dick's in the den."
"How'd he even get in there? It has a door; he couldn't have opened it!"
"Crawled under the fence," Bruce replied, spotting a divot a few yards away.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing," he said, somehow not relieved. "They haven't attacked yet, and it looks like he's just one of the pack. He's not trying to fight."
"That's good, at least. So, what now? Do we just let him stay there?" Bruce took another look at the wolf, which was getting to know another, silvery one. So far, so good.
"I guess. We'll keep an eye out, just in case. You can come back, if you want."
With that, he took a seat on the bench and prepared to scroll through his phone for 12 hours.
The gravel ground under his shoe as Bruce stepped into the wolf den, proudly sporting a zookeeper uniform and scouring the area for something.
That something glanced up from his position with an arm slung over a silver wolf, groaned, and laid his head back on the ground. As Bruce approached, the silver wolf appeared to wake, immediately turning to lick the werewolf, who made no attempt to stop it.
The wolf rolled out from under the blanket he'd thrown over Dick, continuing to lick the boy's bloodied cheeks.
"Get changed," he said, dropping a plastic bag by his side, which a dark gray wolf cautiously sniffed at. "The place'll open soon, and we need to be gone by then."
Dick nodded, wincing as he dragged himself up and petted his new friend.
Bruce turned to give his son some privacy. Behind him, he could hear the wolf whining slightly, returned with satisfied human chuckles.
"Whoa!" Bruce turned to make sure his son was alright. Dick had already finished changing and was kneeling on shaky legs, arms held out for balance. The man, without needing to ask, allowed the werewolf to use him for support and together they walked to the door, Silver brushing against the younger's legs and putting a soft smile on his face, despite the glaringly obvious pain he was in.
As they reached the door, Silver jumped onto Dick's shoulders, making him hiss. The wolf, however, continued to whine as it licked his face. Dick, in return, dug his fingers into the fur and pressed his forehead to the wolf's, both seemingly unwilling to leave the other.
But, all things must end, so Bruce tugged the boy out of the exhibit, propping him up against the outside wall.
"These'll help with the pain," he said, handing out some Aleve and following it up with a small bottle of water. "You might also want to wash your mouth off. You've still got blood on it." Dick nodded mutely, popping the pills and rinsing his face.
"So, what was all that?" Bruce asked, leaning against the wall, himself. His son sighed as he pressed his head into the paint, waiting for the painkillers to start working.
"All what?" he asked, glancing over.
"You, with the wolf." Dick shrugged, not looking his guardian in the eye.
"No idea. She must have a crush, or something."
"She?"
"She." A few seconds' silence reigned after that.
"Do you remember anything that happened last night?" He pushed on.
Dick shrugged again, still not making eye contact. "I ate a rabbit. That's it, though. Man, it's so weird!" he added.
"What's it like?"
"Like remembering something you did while under mind control. Like, I can remember it, and I even remember liking it, but it's weird to think about, now. It's like I hate that I liked it."
"That's probably normal," Bruce interjected. "The wolf would have different responses to stimuli than you would; you're bound to have different opinions on things. I wouldn't spend too much time thinking about it; just focus on remembering more, next time. You'll probably be able to improve your self control, that way."
"I feel like Two-Face," Dick grumbled. Bruce gave the closest thing he typically got to laughter - a small huff, really - and let the silence hang, waiting patiently for his son to move them along.
"Let's get going," Dick said a minute later, straightening up off the wall.
"Do you still need help?"
"Yes, please." They began limping over to where the car was parked, Silver following them with her golden eyes.
"What'd you do to the guard when he woke up?" Dick asked, the front gate coming into their view. He coughed, bringing a hand up to rub his temple.
"Let him wake up, and then we stayed out of sight. I also used the chemicals that Tetch was using to make him more...compliant. He thinks he dozed off at the beginning of his shift, and we were just a dream." Dick nodded sagely.
"One more thing," he said, leaning Dick against the rental car. He looked back at him with eyes hinted with dread. "The autopsy performed on Remus showed acute aconite poisoning. Now, aconite - wolfsbane - isn't something that just randomly turns up in daily life. He had to have been exposed to it deliberately. My guess is through the spaghetti sauce. It wasn't labeled, and there was ribbon in the trash."
"Someone could have given it to him as a gift," Dick finished for him. "Trying to poison him?" Bruce shrugged.
"Although, we don't even know that it was the sauce, and I doubt the police'll test for it there."
"Well," he replied, grabbing a vial out of the briefcase in the backseat. "Once we get back to the cave, we can test for aconite, but if you're willing to knock it out here, for us…" He held out the flask. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."
After only a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the vial and muttered something about making himself useful, before unscrewing the cap and holding it up to his nose.
The melodrama only lasted another second before it dissipated and Dick dropped to his knees, retching and spewing bloody putrescence.
Bruce was down beside him in an instant, unsure exactly what to do.
Dick slumped back against the car, panting hard with a dribble of blood on his lip. He swallowed thickly, wiping away the blood.
"I guess that answers that," he eventually got out. When he glanced up and saw Tim's horror-stricken face though the back window, Bruce shook away the shock and helped the boy to his feet.
"We're getting you to the hospital," he stated, holding the car door.
"Yeah, because that place has such a good track record," the younger said, getting into the car, Bruce following suit.
"This isn't a joke, Dick; you just vomited blood."
"I ate a rabbit; of course I puked blood, plus bones and whatever else was in there. I'm fine."
"Dick!"
"If it happens again, fine. But until then, we're going home."
Bruce said nothing, just seethed as he turned the engine and Dick settled into his seat, eyes slipping shut behind his sunglasses.
(A.N.: Adult themes ahead. Most of the scene is fine, but there's some content that's more for mature audiences. There won't be too much of it, so I won't change the rating, but you have been warned.)
Aurora turned to face him, tongue lolling out of her mouth. He smiled at her, admiring her silver fur and golden eyes. Forest stretched around them, warm, yellow light shining on the emerald leaves and lime grass that waved in the pleasant breeze, which brought distant flowers on its back.
"Just this way," she said, her sweet voice like a balm. "Stay low, and do as I do." He nodded, glad that she was showing him how to do this.
Together, they crept forward, tails and noses low into the dewy flora, until they came upon their prey. A few yards upwind, a herd of deer grazed on young grass in a clearing where the morning sun gleamed its brightest. For the moment, they seemed oblivious, perfectly content.
"Find one that's weak," Aurora explained, never taking her eyes off of the deer. "The others will put up too much of a fight. The young taste best, but the oldest ones and the sick are good, too."
"Perfect," he replied, a smile once again cracking his face.
The crouched another moment, his damp paws growing colder by the minute, before they sprang.
Immediately, Aurora found her kill, scratching at the fawn's ankles before dispatching it with a swift bite to the throat.
He flinched. A hoof nearly clipped his snout as the rest of the herd ran off. He chased, enjoying the thrill it gave him.
"Deek!" the other wolf called after him, glancing up from her catch.
She howled, but he barely heard her as he sprinted after the thing, finally getting close enough to pounce.
Two minutes later, he was forced to come crawling back, battered and covered in blood, most of it his.
"You hunt like a cat," she laughed, looking up to see his limping her way.
"How would you know what a cat hunts like?" he quipped. She stepped aside, motioning her nose to tell him she would share. He dug in, more blood staining his snout and running down his fur.
"The humans that keep us sometimes take them out to show others. Savannah, I think they called them. Sometimes they chase after birds." She sniffed at a part on the other side of the skinned animal, and - without much thought - he swung a paw out and bumped her chin into the wet meat, fur stained red.
"Deek!" she cried, husky laughs following. "What was that?"
"Just having a little fun," he replied, taking another bite. The next thing he knew, she was slamming into him and playfully biting at his throat.
He responded in kind, rolling over so he was on top. She tried to roll too, but he was ready for her, stepping off before he could be pulled with her.
"Deek," she sighed, her tail perking up and sweeping between his right legs, making him shiver. They panted, tongues lolling and hearts racing together. "Deek!"
Her silver fur felt soft between his front paws, brushing rapidly against them. He moaned, growing breathless as his mind melted with the sound of her gasping his name with mounting passion. "Deek! Deek! Deek!"
"Dick. Dick!" He heard Tim say, and all together, the bright forest melted into the tacky beige interior of the car, the gray sky just visible to his blurry vision. Tim shook him again, roughly jostling his sore muscles. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty; we're back at the hotel."
He groaned, running a hand through his hair as he dragged himself out.
"Bruce is already inside. He found us a breakfast table," Tim explained as they started walking. Dick nodded, breathing through his mouth as he tried to get his heart rate under control.
"Who were you dreaming about?" Tim asked once they were halfway between the car and the Hotel's door.
"Who said I was dreaming about anyone?" he replied, praying that Tim would drop the subject.
Out of luck.
"You were moaning in your sleep," Tim rebuffed. "You don't make sounds like that unless you're dreaming about someone else."
"Anne Hathaway," he lied, putting a smirk on his face. Tim gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder, grinning himself.
"Are you feeling any better?" Bruce asked, once the two had sat beside him at the last dregs of the free breakfast bar
"Much," he replied, digging into his eggs and bacon.
After breakfast was polished off, Bruce and Tim went to unpack, and Dick flopped down on his bed and dreamt of Aurora.
A.N.: And, that's as close as I get to smut! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please leave me a review. Thank you for your time, and GOD BLESS!