Warning: Possession. Yeah, that kind of possession. I realize that's a spoiler, but this is serious. It should be noted that I in no way support the life choices made by characters in this fic and that demons really ought to be taken more seriously than this.

Chapter 2

Gift

He shouldn't have been sneaking out. Not when he just had to wait one more day. Ra's had promised to help him defend against their enemy once preparations were finished. One more day and maybe Ra's wouldn't treat him like a liability when it came to facing the Detective. But perhaps that was why Tim was out, padding silently across rooftops without permission again: the anticipation was keeping him from sleeping.

He snuck across the ruined third story of what had once been an office building, ducking around a crumbling interior wall before moving quickly along the edge where an exterior wall had fallen away completely, pausing only to examine the repair work that had been done recently. Some little bit of motion caught his attention, no more than a flicker in the shadows steeping the building, and he spun, weight shifting to the bad footing that was the moldering remains of the outer wall. It was just enough. The edge of the building crumbled under his boot, and he nearly slipped, balance thrown off, teetering toward the jagged rebar littering the street below. A firm hand gripped his wrist suddenly, mid-teeter, tugging him back onto firm footing with inhuman ease. Tim nearly yelped in surprise, and he had his katana drawn before his feet even touched down safely on the cracked tiles, shoving it through his rescuer's shoulder and into the cracked concrete behind. He couldn't hesitate. Not now.

"Gah! Kid! What the hell?!" Jason grimaced, pulling the katana free with a hand wrapped around the blade.

"Stay away from me!" Tim knew what the man was now. It was so obvious, he couldn't tell how he hadn't seen it before: the way he always felt so dazed and confused around the man, the inhuman strength, the sheer allure of being around him.

"I was trying to help…" Jason rotated the injured shoulder—once, feeling it out unhappily—before dropping it, and no one healed that fast. The bloodied katana fell to the roof with a clatter, forgotten.

"You're one of them!" Tim stepped back, putting more distance between them, because he knew how fast the other man could move if he wanted. He should've waited that one day before going out. He'd walked right into it. "You're trying to manipulate me."

"Do you really believe that?" Jason asked flatly, head cocked disbelievingly to the side, and everything about the man was just so blunt, Tim caught himself actually starting to doubt.

"Stop it!" He shook his head. Ra's had warned him these people could get to him. He'd warned him. "Stop trying to confuse me!"

"First of all…" Jason growled, stepping forward angrily, only to stop when Tim responded with a defensive crouch. "First of all, I don't have to try to confuse anyone. If I wanted you to believe something, I wouldn't have to waste time trying to convince you, I'd have just enthralled you."

"You're bluffing…"

"Am I?" Jason's grin was sudden and sharp, almost feral, displaying the points of his incisors. Slowly, with one hand, Jason reached up and peeled back his own mask. Tim slammed his eyes closed. He wouldn't be caught, not even to prove his own point. Jason seemed to find it amusing. "Who's bluffing now?"

Tim frowned stubbornly, eyes still shuttered tight. He didn't need to be able to see to get down or fight—he knew the exact distance to the ledge behind him, the distance he'd have to leap to clear the rubble below, the fastest route back—but it would put him at a disadvantage. Jason sighed, perhaps sensing his thoughts.

"I don't have Dick's gift. I can't make you look at me just by asking nicely, but…" Tim never heard him move, alarming in itself, but he definitely felt the sudden constriction of fingers circling his lower arm, pulling it out in front of him, the snick of torn fabric bearing his wrist.

"Hey!" Tim sucked in a startled breath, eyes snapping open, and now he could see Jason's were blue. Too familiar blue. Half lidded lazily as the man bent slowly over the wrist he held captive. The sight rooted Tim in place halfway through trying to jerk his arm back. He couldn't seem to look away, not even when the man's hands gripping his arm pulled it closer.

Everything was familiar dizziness again, that sense of déjà vu, of things being two ways at once, of knowing Jason well and not knowing him at all, and the distraction of trying to figure it out was definitely why he hadn't pulled away. It had nothing to do with the strange warmth uncurling where the man's hands pressed against his uniform or the sudden unsteadiness in his legs. That was surely the disorientation—the disconcerting feeling that he knew this man, and if he just tried a little harder, held out a little longer, he might figure out how and where from.

Jason made some appreciative noise and Tim realized the sharp scrape against the delicate skin of his wrist was the man's incisors, stark and dangerous, and the realization startled him.

What was he doing, letting this man get to him? His heart rate hiked in sudden alarm and he jerked away, gasping, as far as Jason would let him go, because the grip on his lower arm was a sturdy one, keeping him from breaking away entirely.

The man's other hand slid to press against Tim's chest, head tilted. Listening, Tim realized.

"Now you're afraid." Because he could actually hear Tim's heart.

"You are bluffing," Tim decided, suddenly sure. Not about being able to control him, maybe, but about going through with it. Tim met the man's gaze unwaveringly, even if the pounding of his heart did give him away. He was wary of the man's power, the disorientation he brought, yes, but not afraid of the man. "And you're manipulating me." He twisted a little in the uncomfortable grip unhappily. Jason only snorted.

"Taking advantage of the situation maybe, but I'm not hiding anything from you, kid." His brows furrowed in frustration, grip tightening, and it was just enough to be painful. "Anything you want to know about us, you've always just had to ask."

"I know enough," Tim grit out.

"Ra's' lies." But the man must have realized how tight his grip was, because he let go, stepping back.

"He wouldn't lie to me." Tim had always been the most loyal, the one Ra's could trust more than any other.

"Wouldn't he?" Jason's snort this time was derisive. Tim still wasn't certain the man wasn't just trying to confuse him, but he had backed off a little, leaning easily back against the wall. He didn't seem to be doing anything. Which didn't make sense. If Jason was as powerful as he claimed—as powerful as Ra's seemed to fear—capable of bending Tim to his every whim, why hadn't the man just commanded him to go bring him whatever it was Ra's had taken from them? Why was he holding back?

Tim picked up his discarded katana, wiping the blood off before re-sheathing it, never quite taking his eye off Jason. As far as he was concerned, this meeting was over. At the very least, he needed to think about these things, and he needed to do it where he could be certain Jason wasn't still affecting him.

"I'm leaving." He turned, heading towards the edge of the roof. Jason watched him, but didn't make a move to stop him.

"When you want to know the truth, you know where to find me."


The encounter was still bothering Tim late the next day, because he couldn't make sense of it: not Jason's purpose and not his own conflicting instincts. The man hadn't hurt him—not even after Tim had attacked him—not really, and he'd even let him go. What could Jason possibly gain from letting him go? There was no advantage to it.

Then there was the strange sense of familiarity, the pull he felt to believe Jason whenever around him, and that might have been the man subtlety beguiling him, but… Tim didn't think Jason had done it. In fact, he was pretty certain Jason had told nothing but the blunt, unadulterated truth the entire time, whether Tim liked it or not.

He flopped back onto the beige sofa beneath him with a frustrated sigh, because he was missing something. Some piece of the puzzle. Something that would make it all fit.

Unfortunately, there wasn't time to sort it all out, because Ra's found him as the sun sank beneath the jagged horizon, appearing silent and imposing in the doorway. He didn't say a word, just waited expectantly, and Tim went to him immediately, unreservedly, because this he knew he could trust. This he didn't have to sort out. Ra's would give him exactly what he'd promised.

The man waited only long enough for Tim to fall into place at his side before turning and leading him down to one of the smaller penthouses. The contents of the first room had been pushed to the far walls—lamps, end tables, and chairs—leaving only one single wooden table bare in the center. An ornate bowl half full of water sat on a nearby counter, along with a dagger and small hand towel. That was where Ra's stopped, turning regally slow to face Tim, who shivered under the sudden regard, more a tremble of anticipation.

"Are you sure?" Ra's asked, green gaze boring into him as he helped Tim up on the table, strong hand supportive where Tim gripped it. His robes bunched up against the mahogany wood. He was in red today. But then, he was almost always in red. The color felt right somehow.

"Yes," Tim replied immediately. In the back of his mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Jason's whispered about lies. He shook if off. After all, he didn't have any reason to trust Jason. Not when Ra's had been true to every word. He was not always a nice man, but he was honorable.

Tim lay back until his hair splayed against the wood, letting Ra's adjust him as he willed, sucking in a steadying breath when the man gestured imperiously and two demons materialized out of the shadowed corners, shackling Tim's wrists and ankles with their inhumanly strong grip. The heat of their touch nearly burned his skin. Tim tugged experimentally against the grip of black fingers. He trusted Ra's, but he couldn't help a little bit of worry that the man thought it necessary to restrain him at all.

Once the demons had a firm hold, Ra's lifted the thin dagger from the counter, and Tim's heart rate hiked in uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" Ra's asked again, gaze flat and unwavering, and it definitely said something that the man bothered offering the out a second time. He wasn't known for his patience with those who wasted his time. If Ra's thought Tim's resolve would waver now though, he was going to be disappointed.

"I'm sure." Tim steadied himself in the demons' grip, still eyeing the dagger. It didn't look like he thought it should look—no inlaid gold adorned the handle or thinned into a line down the spine of the blade—though he couldn't figure out why he expected it to look any different. Neither could he figure out why Ra's holding it over him should alarm him so—a sudden fear bubbling up under his skin—but it seemed connected to the sudden wash of vertigo: a disorientation he'd only started experiencing since running into Jason. Apparently the encounter had unsettled him more than he'd realized. Annoyed, he pushed aside the foreign feel of displacement along with the creeping fear. He wasn't going to let Jason get to him.

Ra's offered no reassurances.

With easy grace, the man flicked back the edges of red silk to expose Tim's navel, bringing the dagger to bear against smooth skin. Tim clutched a little tighter at the shadowy hands binding his wrists but didn't flinch away as the blade sliced downward, a series of neat little cuts. If anything, he relaxed into the slow slide of the silver. This was all right. He could deal with this. He'd dealt with worse before.

Blood welled up in the wake of the blade. Ra's put a hand over the marking, palm against the blood, and the man's shadow came alive with a hiss, molten living darkness clawing its way free of the rest and up to perch on the man's shoulder. Tim looked to the man for some indication, but Ra's' whole focus was on that point of contact where his fingers splayed against the faint ridges of lower abdominal muscle, green eyes alight in that piercing gaze. There was an intensity about him Tim had rarely seen, not all at once, not usually so concentrated. It made Tim's breath hitch with equal measures fear and exultation, seeing the promised intent there, because yes, yes. After this, Ra's would no longer worry about him and he'd be able to protect those things they'd built together. So even with the unholy gaze of the demon upon him and Ra's' own frighteningly focused eyes staring down at him, he wasn't afraid.

The demon found Ra's' arm like lightning to a lightning rod, diving down it with a snarl. Tim didn't have time to prepare before it was sinking into his flesh, clawing its way into his body through the blood and the mark. Later, he'd wonder how something so seemingly large could fit inside him. Later, he'd wonder at the incongruity of smooth skin where he felt he'd been ripped open.

This time the black claws encircling his wrists and ankles felt the strain. Tim cried out as his body arched, struggling against the invasive heat. If his hands hadn't been bound he might have clawed at the deceptively smooth flesh of his abdomen, raked out the thing burning inside him, setting his flesh on fire. His fingers curled convulsively at the thought. He wrapped them around the clawed hands restraining him instead—safe, shadowy restraints that only abraded his skin when he jerked, needing to feel something other than this infernal heat—and pulled, twisting at them desperately, blindly searching for weaknesses. Ra's had chosen well though, and Tim fell back against the wood, gasping through the sweltering heat, unable to curl in on himself, unable to escape. His vision swam as he twisted, head jerking back and forth agitatedly, unable to find comfort or relief from the heat burning him up from the inside out.

Then Ra's' hand fell on his forehead, holding a damp cloth in place, and Tim pushed into it mindlessly.

"Don't fight it, Timothy. Let it remake you."

Ra's was not going to free him from this responsibility, and Tim would not beg. He would not show weakness in front of the man he looked up to the most. So he could only endure it, teeth gritted against the delirium that stretched the minutes to hours, and wonder that his bones hadn't melted already.

At some point it stopped seeming like an impossible task to endure the remaking. He wasn't sure if the heat became more bearable or if he became gradually more accustomed to it. Maybe a little of both, a meeting in the middle. He knew only that slowly the tension bled away, leaving him slumped back against the wood, exhausted, spent, staring up at Ra's blearily.

"What?" he mouthed, struggling to support even that one syllable. "What?"

"I've bound one of my demons to you. It sleeps inside you even now." One of the man's rough hands caressed the mark etched into his navel possessively—Ra's' mark, Ra's had marked him—and Tim felt something inside him react to that touch, something squirm just beneath his skin that had nothing to do with nervous butterflies. He could feel it, the coiled heat there, like something alive.

He shuddered involuntarily, but he'd asked for Ra's' help and he couldn't spurn it now. He felt exhausted, every limb heavy. A fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. Damp hair stuck to his face. He was still panting when Ra's motioned the demons holding him away, scooping him up himself. Tim rested his head against the man's shoulder, gulping clean, cold air, and fell asleep to the rhythm of his gait.


Tim spent the next few days in various states of unconsciousness with something akin to a fever. Sometimes the heat would become unbearable again, and he'd find himself kicking away covers that had been pulled up at night. Sometimes the fuzzy shapes swimming around him would resolve into the familiar forms of lamps and curtains and nightstands.

It took a week before his body adjusted to its new occupant. A week of sweating. A week of cold baths and frequent glasses of water, accepting help drinking because he couldn't hold the glass without shaking. A week of Ra's' vigilant ministrations, fingers sometimes brushing away sweat-damp hair and sometimes stroking along the mark at his navel proudly, claiming him.

Tim didn't mind. It would have hurt worse if the man had left him alone. This way he knew he was wanted, even if he felt ridiculously pathetic, even if he wished Ra's didn't have to see him like this. More than anything, he didn't want to fail the man's expectations.

Even when the week was over and he'd finally adjusted to the smoldering heat, finally managed to stand without shaking, Ra's was right there, going over hand-scrawled plans at the desk he'd had brought up. When he noticed Tim standing up, leaning ever so slightly against the nightstand, he immediately pushed the chair back and strode over to him, one hand wrapping firmly around his upper arm, the other brushing his forehead appraisingly.

"I'm fine now." Tim tried to shake off the man's concern, but the fingers circling his arm didn't budge, pulling him down onto the bed. Tim sat rather than be pulled off balance.

"The others took twice as long." Ra's' gaze was hard, considering.

"You've done this before." He hadn't been the first the man had trusted with this. The others had struggled too. Somehow that was a little redeeming.

"Yes," Ra's agreed. "Sometimes it is necessary to provide personal protection." The hand that had fallen from Tim's forehead, satisfied, pushed back layers of silk until it found skin, pressing against his navel, checking. The demon squirmed inside him at the touch. Less like a squirm maybe and more like a slow return of Ra's touch, pressing against the inside of Tim's skin.

Tim paused, examining this new sensation in his body, cataloguing the tiny details. The stretch and burn of it. Vaguely like being too full.

He had seen what Ra's' demons could do, and he understood what he'd been given. If he were taken away, Ra's would be able to track the demon slumbering within him. If he were attacked, the demon would aid him. This was what safety felt like: this squirming in his belly, this living heat. This was the price of protection. He understood that, but he couldn't help but feel tainted anyway. Each ebb and flow of heat through his veins felt like slow poison. He could envision the demon like a nest of black shadows twined about his intestines, filling in all the little spaces, filling him up.

"You've done well." Ra's' words called him back from his contemplation, warm in his ear, the man's hand still lingering at his abdomen.

Yes, I'm yours.

"The transition is hard," Ra's continued, finally withdrawing, and Tim swayed for a moment on his own. "Not all survive it." He hadn't even realized he'd been leaning.

"But I'm stronger now." He could feel it, sense the demon's energy coursing through him. He was going to be stronger when this was over. "You won't have to worry about me."

"It will be much harder for the Detective to take you," Ra's allowed. "I still don't want you running into them if it can be avoided."

Tim frowned at Ra's' back as the man turned away and swept regally slow back to the desk and the work waiting there, effectively ending any discussion. He wanted to follow the man, ask what the Detective wanted in the first place, because he was missing something obvious, some puzzle piece he hadn't worked out, and it was bothering him. But Ra's showed no signs of sharing that information, least of all at the moment.

Instead of pursuing a useless debate, Tim pulled his robe aside, examining the neat lines the knife had carved into his skin. He hadn't really been able to look at them, sick as he'd been. Now he could see that they'd been seared shut so only the scars remained, etched there, blatantly marking him for what Ra's had made him.

A demon's vessel.


Author Notes: Well, I wanted to get to the Dick scene, which is literally the next scene and was supposed to be included in this chapter, but since every attempt at fixing it up resulted in ignoring this story for another month, I thought I really just ought to post the part that's working for now. Unfortunately this leaves me in the awkward position of deciding whether to add the missing three scenes back into this chapter at some point in the future or separate them out into their own, less-than-2k-word chapter. If it takes another five months, it's not my fault! I have zero concentration time right now, at least in the stretches I need to write. The tiny addition to the family needs to learn how to play on his own.

I just really wanted to get something posted for Halloween with demons. Also, my birthday is coming up, which I totally intend to celebrate by finding a comic store and catching up on Tim, if there are any good Tim stories in the New 52. Any suggestions?