Blue Moon

by RaaorQtpbpdy

Summary:

In some cultures, the blue moon is considered the trickster moon. The faker, not the real full moon, but a mysterious doppelganger. In other cultures the blue moon is considered fortunate, something to celebrate, and a perfect time to start a long-term goal or make plans for the future.

-or-

Dick Grayson, a born vampire whose parents were killed by a vampire hunter, is adopted by the kind-hearted Bruce Wayne, who is oblivious to his true nature. For a while, everything goes very well... then everything starts to go very poorly.

Notes:

I got to work with the amazing Valí on this fic, who drew the art and also helped me brainstorm a lot, along with my fabulous beta Ave!

Chapter 1: Harvest Moon

Summary:

Harvest Moon: The transition from fall to winter, celebrated as the earth slowing down and "dying" to become something new. A time for reaping.

Notes:

Dick's POV

Back in the circus, Dick had felt completely at home, surrounded by his own kind, as well as humans who knew what vampires were like and didn't mind. His life—or, his undeath—had been perfect for those few years. Those years where his parents had loved and cared for him, had taught him, had trained him. Those years where he and his parents, and the handful of other vampires in the circus, could all drink their fill and be gone before the local police could finish scratching their heads.

When he watched his parents fall from the trapeze, his greatest concern had been how they would explain surviving a fall from such a height without exposing the secret of vampires to the world. He hadn't realized they'd been poisoned before the show. They hit the ground with a sickening, horrible crack. Their bones breaking, skin splitting, blood oozing out onto the floor of the tent. If he'd been capable of vomiting, Dick would have lost his lunch.

He waited for them to get back up. Waited while Mr. Haly evacuated the big top. Waited while the other performers made up excuses as to why onlookers couldn't call the paramedics. Waited while his friends shouted up to the platform, coaxing him to come down. He didn't. He stayed right where he was, forty feet up, staring at the broken, unmoving bodies of his parents. 

Someone was climbing up the ladder, but Dick didn't bother to look at who it was until they sat down next to him. It was a man in a suit more expensive than anything Dick had ever owned. He cautiously placed a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, son," the man said. "I watched my parents die, too, when I was about your age. No experience could ever compare to the despair I know you're feeling. If you need anything, I'm here."

Finally, tears welled up in Dick's eyes and began to fall, pouring down his cheeks as he wept. He turned and buried his face in the stranger's expensive shirt, bawling loudly. It had finally sunk in. His parents wouldn't be getting back up again. They were well and truly dead. And Dick knew exactly who was to blame.

His parents had been so sure they'd thrown that vampire hunter off their scent. They'd triple checked all the equipment they'd seen him so much as stand next to. Turned out it wasn't him, but them who'd been duped. Somehow he must have done something to them, or their equipment, or costumes, or something. That damned vampire hunter had killed his parents, and if he wasn't stopped, he'd be coming for Dick next, that much was certain. 

"I'm Bruce," said the man in the expensive suit as he awkwardly wrapped an arm around Dick, the other holding tightly onto a safety rope to ensure neither of them fell from the high platform. "Your name is Richard, right? I saw on the posters."

"I go—by Dick," the boy responded through gasps. 

"I see." Bruce was awkward, and not very good at consoling or comforting, but he was still trying, even though Dick was a stranger. Empathy was one hell of a drug. Dick had no idea how humans could keep that up all the time when he himself had trouble even faking it. "Well Dick, you just go ahead and cry, let it all out. I won't let you fa—ah... I'll… I'll hold onto you." 

"This wasn't an accident," Dick whimpered, and sniffed. "Someone—messed with the trapeze. We thought we fixed it." Sobs interrupted him, and he let it go for a moment before he pulled himself together enough to keep talking. Fabricating a story as he went. "He was threatening—Mr. Haly. Said if he didn't pay him—something bad would happen." Mr. Haly would corroborate the lie, he always covered for his people, no matter what their stories were.

"Do you know the man's name?" Bruce asked. Dick allowed himself the smallest upturn in the corner of his mouth. Got him. Bruce was clearly rich, meaning he'd have connections, and that empathy of his would drive him to help Dick get 'justice' for his parents.

"Mr. Haly knows," Dick said, and that much was true. "I just can't believe anyone would—would do something so h-horrible!" Dick blubbered into Bruce's chest. 

"Don't worry, Dick," Bruce said solemnly, holding the boy a little bit tighter, his grip much stronger and more secure than Dick would've expected of some random rich guy. "I'll make sure that man faces due process. He'll see the consequences of what he's done. I promise." 

Dick mumbled out a teary thank you, and tightened his own grip around the man to seal the deal. Blinded by his emotions, Bruce had bought the story hook, line, and sinker. If Dick's life was about to change forever, then at the very least he could move forward without constantly having to look over his shoulder. Vampire hunters were a rarity these days, but that didn't make them any less of a pain in the ass. 

"I know it's sudden, and you don't know me very well," Bruce said gently, his deep voice cutting through Dick's sobs. "But if you'd like, you can stay with me from now on. I'm more than happy to take you in, and care for you, now that your parents...." he trailed off. "I just... I wouldn't want you to have to be alone."

That surprised Dick, although he supposed he should have expected something like this from a bleeding heart like Bruce obviously was. He considered the offer for a moment. The circus was likely no longer safe for vampires. 

Within a week, that vampire hunter’s friends would descend on the big top like vultures on a rotting animal, and Dick was young and vulnerable, especially compared to his parents, whom the hunter had already successfully killed. He definitely didn't want to still be within these three rings when that happened, and they came nosing around with holy water and silver daggers.

If he went with Bruce on the other hand, he'd be protected. Firstly, Bruce was obviously the type to keep anyone remotely dangerous away from the kid in his charge, and secondly, because, in Dick's experience, rich people could get away with pretty much everything, up to and including murder. That made being this guy's charge a very convenient position for a creature like Dick to be in.

When the silence had finally gone on long enough to be truly uncomfortable, Bruce started to backtrack. "If you don't want to, I understand. I just wanted to give you that option so—" 

"Okay," Dick said, a victorious smirk hidden in their embrace, though he couldn't stop the tears still trickling down his cheeks. "I'll go with you."

Chapter 2: Meadow Moon

Summary:

Meadow Moon: A good time to think about how you can bring more positive things into your life.

Notes:

Bruce's POV

Despite being obviously distraught—and how could he not be?—Dick had provided Bruce with some crucial information about his parents' deaths. Information he could use to track down their killer and bring him to justice. First and foremost, however, he had to take care of Dick. Holding the boy tightly, with little arms wrapped around his neck, Bruce started to climb down the tall trapeze platform to the ground, very careful not to lose his grip or balance on the ladder.

At some point in all his crying, Dick had fallen asleep, and miraculously, Bruce hadn't woken him. In his sleep, the boy breathed so shallowly that Bruce could almost think he wasn't breathing at all, and his skin was chilled by the cold night air. Even with red-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked face, he looked peaceful. Bruce almost wished that Dick could sleep forever, and never have to wake up and face the harsh reality of the night's events.

"Mr. Haly, do you mind speaking with me?" Bruce asked very softly as he approached the man.

"You got Dick down off that platform—I wouldn't mind singing a duet. I was afraid he'd never come down," Haly told him. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I offered to take him home and let him stay with me, become his guardian from now on, if that's okay with you," Bruce said, uncertain what the ringmaster would think of the idea. "He agreed, but..."

"I'm okay with it," Haly said solemnly. "I'll miss him, God knows I will, but... I don't imagine he'll ever feel safe here again. A lot of 'em won't."

"He told me someone came to threaten you, racketeering, and tampered with the trapeze when you refused to pay," Bruce said, and Haly's eyes widened slightly in surprise before narrowing again. Bruce noticed the action but wasn't sure what to make of it.

"He told you that?" Haly asked thoughtfully, and Bruce wondered privately if it had been a lie somehow.

"Is that not what happened?" he asked.

"No, that's what happened. I just didn't realize Dick saw," Haly confirmed, putting Bruce's suspicions to rest. If Haly was lying, he was damn good at it. "He said his name was Tony Zucco, but he wasn't just some racketeer, he was a total nutjob. Said that I should pay him to protect my circus from vampires, if you can believe it! Of course I didn't pay him! Why the hell would I pay for protection against a myth? I didn't realize he would—that he'd... oh God... this is my fault, isn't it?"

"No." Bruce made sure his voice was firm, and his gaze was steady. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known what would happen. I don't know a man who would take threats seriously from someone like that. Can you tell me anything else about Tony Zucco? What did he look like?"

After getting as many details as he could out of Mr. Haly, Bruce talked with the police and took Dick home to Alfred. Somehow, he'd managed to stay asleep the whole time. Poor kid must've been exhausted.

As much as Bruce would have liked to track down Tony Zucco right away, there were other things to deal with that required more immediacy, like proving himself a qualified guardian for Dick in the eyes of the law, and finalizing the appropriate legal guardianship paperwork to ensure Dick would be under his protection from then on. Only when that was finally done could Bruce return more of his attention to his nightly mission, and more specifically to catching Tony Zucco. It was during that period that Dick somehow managed to follow him all the way down to the cave without Bruce detecting him.

"Woah! What is this place?" a child's voice piped up behind him. "Are you, like, a top secret spy or something?" Bruce turned to see Dick's blue eyes widen when they landed on the Batman suit in a clear glass case. "You're BATMAN!?" he squealed.

"Yes, I am," Bruce told him. It wasn't as if he could deny it at that point, anyway. "And right now, I'm working on finding the man who killed your parents so I can make him face justice, just like I promised you. So would you please—"

"Can I help?" Dick asked, cutting off Bruce's request for him to go back upstairs.

"No, Dick. It's too dangerous."

"Bruce. He killed my parents." The boy frowned, his expression heartbroken. "Please... please let me help." Bruce's heart ached watching the boy who reminded him so much of himself, and he couldn't find it in him to deny him. Dick deserved to have a hand in this, to get his closure, so he wouldn't end up on the same dark, obsessive path as Bruce.

"Fine, but you have to promise to do everything I say without arguing, no matter what," Bruce insisted. "None of that youthful rebellion, okay? This mission is extremely dangerous, and following my orders is how you'll stay alive, do you understand?"

"Yes!" Dick shouted, determination mingling into his still-pained expression.

"In that case, I'll need to train you up some," Bruce said. "Come this way. I'll teach you how to fight."

Training Dick caused even further delay in finding the Graysons' killer, but eventually, Batman and Robin tracked him down.

Tony Zucco was exactly as Mr. Haly described him to be: a raving lunatic.

"You don't understand!" Zucco shouted as he got cornered by Batman and Robin. "They were vampires! Half the freaks in that goddamn circus were, including their son! If I don't kill him, he's gonna kill Bruce Wayne, but I haven't been able to get to him."

Bruce's blood boiled, and he put a hand out in front of Robin protectively, even though Zucco had no idea he was the Graysons' son. First, he'd killed Dick's parents, and now he was actively hunting down a child? He was one sick son of a bitch. Delusional. Delirious. "You're sick, Zucco," Bruce told him. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I know what I'm saying, Batman!" Zucco insisted, pushing himself further against the wall and feeling around for something he could fight back with, but there was nothing there. "Don't tell me you're on their side? You're not one of those undead monsters, are you?"

"There's no such things as vampires, Tony," Batman said evenly. "It's just your mind playing tricks on you. The person you're trying to kill is an innocent child, a human one. We're going to get you help."

"I don't need help!" Zucco screeched, his fingers finding a hidden compartment behind his cupboard, which opened to reveal a dagger. "You're the one who needs help! Die you bloodsucking freak!" He snatched up the dagger and made to plunge it into Batman's chest, but Robin lurched forward and took him out at the knees, causing him to fall, and allowing Batman to disarm and immobilize him.

"You're coming with us, Zucco," Bruce said. "It's time to face reality."

Tony Zucco was charged with the murders of John and Mary Grayson, as well as a handful of others whose deaths were linked to him during a lengthy investigation. Despite Zucco's protests, his lawyer submitted an insanity plea on his behalf, claiming that Zucco was a paranoid schizophrenic, and acting under a delusion that the people he killed were vampires, and he believed that killing them was for defense. Zucco maintained his story, that his victims were vampires, and killing them spared the lives of countless victims. In the end, he was sentenced to imprisonment in Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

Knowing that Dick would be safe from that psychotic killer brought Bruce immense relief, but Tony Zucco wasn't the only killer in Gotham, and Batman's work was never done. A few weeks after the Graysons' murder, another body was found, a homeless man named Jared Marn, throat ripped out, bled to death. There was no physical evidence so far, not even footprints in the pool of blood he was left in, and no significant signs of a struggle either. To make matters worse, neither Bruce, nor the city coroner's office, nor the GCPD's homicide detectives, had any idea what the weapon was.

Gotham CSI suggested that it might be an animal attack. They claimed that some kind of wild or feral dog or an escaped zoo animal could have caused a wound like the one that had killed Marn. The police were content to accept this answer, but it didn't sit right with Bruce. He'd checked, and there were no reports of animals escaping from the zoo. Additionally, Gotham was a heavily urban city, and didn't have any native wildlife anywhere near it that could have caused wounds like that, unless pigeons had suddenly evolved giant mouths and sharp teeth.

Just under a month later, another victim, Susan Gillespie, was found dead in just the same way, and again, Gotham PD declared it an animal attack, and wrote it off as a coincidence. Bruce, on the other hand, wasn't about to let it go that easily. The crime scenes gave him nothing, but, notably, the bodies gave him even less. Aside from the way the throats were ripped out in a manner no weapon anyone knew of could cause, there was nothing to suggest an animal was involved in the attacks at all. No fur, no claw marks, no saliva in the wound, even—at least, not that could be separated from the profusion of blood that spilled from poor Susan's throat.

It wasn't a wild animal, no.

Someone, somehow, had murdered them both.

Now Bruce was going to find out who.

Chapter 3: Third Quarter

Summary:

Third Quarter Moon: The time to overcome obstacles or a bump in the road you’ve encountered as you work towards your goals.

Notes:

Dick's POV

As it turned out, being adopted by Bruce Wayne was pretty much the best thing that could've happened to Dick after that vampire hunter killed his parents. Not only was he rich enough to get away with murder, but it turned out he was also Batman. Dick was even able to convince him to take on a sidekick, meaning that he was teaching the kid everything he knew about detective work, as well as fighting and stealth.

It was basically a continuing, in-depth course on how-not-to-get-caught when he killed someone. Bruce taught him every technique the police used to examine crime scenes and find evidence, and even some they didn't. He gave him detailed lessons on psychological profiling, and following the complex clues of interpersonal connections. It was very informative. And it sure came in handy.

Of course, Dick still followed the same rules his parents had taught him since he turned five and was big enough to hunt with them. Don't develop a type; always choose your victims randomly, based on convenience, and not appearance or demeanor, and definitely not blood type. Find somewhere out of the way. Don't be seen. Look for cameras. When they'd first told him that last rule, Dick asked why he had to hide from cameras if they couldn't see him, and his parents explained that modern cameras were digital.

Old fashioned cameras, the kind from when his parents were young, the kind they'd shown him pictures from and laughed that they looked like floating clothes, used silver to print images. It wasn't that the cameras couldn't see them, it was that the silver couldn't, because it was a pure metal. They'd told him that when they were young, mirrors wouldn't reflect their image either, but these days mirrors were no longer made with silver, and cameras didn't use the metal anymore either, so they would be able to record him just fine.

Dick always thought it must've been very inconvenient for his parents to not be able to see their reflections in mirrors, and was glad that he didn't have to deal with that. Of course, there were a lot of very old things in Wayne Manor. One such thing was an antique mirror in an upstairs parlor, which Dick had discovered completely by accident while exploring by himself one day. It must've been very old and made with silver, because he couldn't see his reflection in it. All he could see was the tarnish behind the glass. He made a point of avoiding that room after his discovery.

The mirror in the upstairs parlor wasn't the only roadblock Dick faced in hiding his true nature from his adoptive father. A few things were easy to explain away, like his aversion to garlic being an allergy. (He also told Bruce he was lactose-intolerant, though he wasn't, so as to make his new guardian less suspicious of his dietary restrictions.) Or to hide, like the bag of soil from his homeland, which he placed in his bed frame, under the mattress.

Other things required more complex explanations. Like how he told Bruce the reason he avoided cathedrals and crucifixes was because he was Romani and his people had a bad history with the catholic church, which was technically true—though his connection with his heritage wasn't as strong as his parents might've liked.

Dick had been a little worried about how he'd explain not using the fancy silverware when he ate. He'd stared wide-eyed at the utensils before asking, with as much childlike awe as he could muster, "Bruce, do you eat with real silver?!"

Bruce smiled, but it was Alfred who answered. "I'm afraid not, Master Richard," he'd said. "These utensils are stainless steel, much easier to clean. The good silverware is only used when Master Bruce has guests over for dinner. It hasn't seen the light of day in years." Dick had pretended to be disappointed, but on the inside he was relieved.

The most difficult thing to explain was his sensitivity to sunlight. Bruce, of course, thought it was odd that Dick refused to go out during the day unless he was fully covered. Dick had expected it, however, and said that he'd always sun-burned easily—and besides, it probably helped preserve his secret identity. After all, who would suspect that Dick Grayson, a boy never seen without long-sleeves and a hat, was also Robin, who didn't even wear proper pants. In response, Bruce had given him an amused smile and agreed that it was an excellent cover before letting Dick head into his first day of actual school.

Dick smirked as he skipped into the elementary school building. Being eight-years-old certainly had its perks. Manipulating adults wouldn't be half as easy when he reached his teens. At least, not without hypnotizing them. Hopefully he would master that skill sooner rather than later; his parents had never finished teaching it to him, and he still needed a lot of practice.

All in all, ever since he became a ward of the Wayne Estate, Dick had been living the high life. He could sneak out once a month to take a victim, hide his tracks like a pro, and be back before Alfred did a bed check. Plus, Bruce defended him from anyone and anything that would do him harm, from vicious rumors to actual supervillains. Batman and Robin locking up that vampire hunter within the first year was the cherry on top of it all.

It was over a year before Dick realized Bruce was onto him, and didn't even know it. He was poring over some police files, and Dick asked what he was working on.

"Just a case," Bruce said. "A serial killer. Their first victim was over a year ago now, and so far I still haven't found anything."

"Really?" Dick asked. "Maybe you just need a second set of eyes. Let me see." Without a word of argument, Bruce handed him the files, and Dick expertly masked his surprise at seeing them. "Wait, the coroner listed these as animal attacks, what makes you think they're... ah, I see. What kind of animal could you find in the city that could make a wound like that?"

"That, and there's no fur, or claw marks, or anything else you would expect to find at the scene of an animal attack," Bruce added. He took a sip of his coffee, which was probably lukewarm by that point, since he'd been examining these files for hours. "It has to be a human who's doing this, somehow, but I just can't figure out how." Well, he was right that it wasn't an animal, but it wasn't exactly a human, either. Dick thought it best not to correct him, though.

"The murder weapon could be some kind of special-made weapon. Like a bear-trap kinda thing that was designed to look like the bite of an animal," Dick suggested. He wasn't about to confess, obviously, but he could at least give Bruce some false leads to follow, make him feel like he was doing something, and delay the man's actual investigation.

"I've considered that, but if it is, it wasn't made in Gotham," Bruce said. "I investigated every person in the city with the expertise to make a tool like that and they all checked out. In addition to that, I found something else unusual about the wounds."

"What's that?"

"The change happened so slowly I didn't notice until recently, but when I compared the measurements of the wound on the first victim, to the one on the latest victim, I saw that they were getting minutely bigger." Dick didn't have to fake his surprise at that. It made sense in retrospect. He was a growing boy, of course his bite would be growing slowly with him, but he never would have considered hiding that until Bruce brought it up.

"How strange," he said. "Well... maybe the hinge is wearing out slowly and that makes it open wider or something? At least... that's the only thing I can think of." Dick paused thoughtfully, trying to find another false lead he could suggest for Bruce to investigate that didn't involve a slowly-growing animal. "Hm... this really is a tough one. I'm stumped."

"I don't say this often, but this case has me stumped, too, chum," Bruce said. Dick had laughed the first time Bruce called him that—which was why Bruce continued to call him that. He'd thought it was funny for the human to be calling him 'chum'. Actually, their whole situation tickled Dick somewhat. After all, if you told just about anyone that one of the two of them was a vampire, they weren't about to guess that it was Robin.

"Is there any connection between the victims?" Dick asked.

"None that I've been able to pick out so far." Bruce sighed, a deep frown etched onto his face. "A few of them have some overlapping qualities, but it seems like the killer chooses them completely at random, which means I have no idea who they'll attack next, and I can't warn their next victim or lay a trap. The only way to save their next victim is to find and stop them before they kill again."

Well, you've found him, Dick thought smugly, but I don't think you'll be stopping me any time soon. He let out a breath and put on his best approximation of anxiety and concern. "I never thought I'd see Batman so... helpless. It's scary stuff."

"I'm not helpless, chum, and I'm not about to throw in the towel," Bruce insisted. "I'll catch this killer and make sure they face justice no matter how long it takes. So far, they've been killing once a month. If they continue to do so, eventually they will make a mistake. We'll get 'em, Robin. Make no mistake about that."

"Alright... I trust you Bruce."

Chapter 4: Hunter's Moon

Summary:

Hunter’s Moon: A time to honor loved ones who have passed on; a time to do spiritual house cleaning, and get rid of what doesn't serve you in the coming year.

Notes:

Bruce's POV

Years passed with Bruce always ten steps behind his most elusive foe, whom he'd taken to calling the Monthly Murderer, though Dick insisted the name was dumb. Contrary to his expectations, the Monthly Murderer didn't make any mistakes. If anything, they got even better at hiding their tracks. The strange wounds on the victims became even less uniform, the crime scenes cleaner, the locations even more obscure, if that was possible. Sometimes the bodies wouldn't be found for weeks, making it harder to pin down the exact time of death.

At least, after the first year, Bruce had finally convinced the police to reopen the cases and acknowledge that they were murders. However, even with half the homicide detectives in the GCPD also investigating the case, they came no closer to discovering the killer's identity. Occasionally, there would be a seemingly promising lead, but it always turned up nothing in the end. Whoever this killer was, they were obviously as well trained and thorough as Batman was.

In retrospect, that should have been his first clue. 

No. In retrospect, Tony Zucco's testimony about the Graysons should have been his first clue. Dick's garlic allergy should have been his first clue. The fact that he always steadfastly refused to go anywhere near a church until Alfred stopped inviting him every Sunday. The fact that, even after he should have grown out of his silly ideas about wearing long pants protecting his identity, he still kept every inch of skin covered on sunny days, though they were few and far between in Gotham City. Any of those should have been his first clue. 

He should have known when every lead Dick suggested on the Monthly Murderer case turned into a wild goose chase. Should have known by the way the killer seemed to know all of Batman's methods and tactics. By the fact that the murders always happened on nights when Dick was supposed to be sleeping and not allowed out on patrol. 

Looking back on it, there were a thousand clues, but Bruce just hadn't wanted to see them. He hadn't wanted to believe, to even consider that his own partner—sweet, cheerful, adorable little Dick Grayson, the same Dick Grayson who did flips and juggled to impress people at charity galas, the same Dick Grayson who'd named every Bat-thing in the Batcave—had been a killer the whole time. That a menace like him, that a monster, could be living right under Bruce's nose, and he'd never suspected a thing. 

For ten years, Bruce had had complete trust in his partner, and then one evening, abruptly, he didn't.

Alfred had decided to do some rearranging of the wall decor on a slow afternoon a few days before. The antique mirror which now hung over the mantle in the first floor drawing room in the east wing where Bruce liked to read, had once hung in a second floor parlor that Dick almost never entered. Dick coming in to let Bruce know that he was leaving for gymnastics practice would have been a perfectly ordinary occurrence, except for that mirror, directly behind Dick, but not reflecting his image.

For a moment, Bruce thought his eyes had played a trick on him. He'd seen Dick's reflection in mirrors and windows before. What was different? The Batman knew a lot about a great many things, but he'd never had much reason to research mirrors before. Now he did. 

The mirror which was now in the drawing room had been made in the 1880s, and backed with silver. Bruce's mother had kept it around because she liked the gothic look of the tarnish, and Bruce never threw anything of his parents' away. In the mid 20th century, mirror-makers started to switch from silver backed mirrors to other metals. These days, most mirrors were backed with aluminum. 

His heart sank into the pit of his stomach as Bruce recalled something else made of silver—a blade someone had once wielded against his own ward, ten years before.

"They were vampires! Half the freaks in that goddamn circus were, including their son!"

His blood ran cold.

The more he researched, the more obvious it became. With this new theory in his mind, it was easy to make a connection to the monthly murders. No ordinary human could leave marks like that and no other evidence, but one with fangs — one who'd been slowly growing, one who’d been learning from Batman himself?

He hid his suspicions well, at least as well as Dick had hidden his true nature. The two of them were in the cave, along with Alfred, tidying up the med-bay. Dick wasn't wearing his gloves, Bruce was examining crime scene photos. This was his chance. He played it as casual as Batman ever was. 

"Dick, come over here and hold this for a moment," he said, and Dick held out his hand without complaint, without even seeing what Bruce had in his closed fist as he dropped the rosary onto his partner's bare skin. Instantly, Dick hissed and dropped it, snatching his hand against his chest. The string snapped as the cross hit the floor, beads scattering, and he stared down at them, eyes wide. 

"Uh... sorry, I guess I didn't have a good grip on it," Dick said, trying to play it off. It would have worked, too, if Bruce didn't finally know exactly what he was doing.

"Pick it up."

"I'm sorry?" Dick tilted his head and smiled nervously.

"Pick. It. Up." Bruce stared his partner down, voice commanding. He watched as Dick's smile dropped into a scowl, as he stared silently back and made no move to pick up the holy symbol. "God damn it, Dick. Pick it up!" He repeated desperately, raising his voice, silently wishing, praying, that he was wrong for once, that Dick really had just lost his grip.

"You know damn well I can't," Dick responded flatly, taking a few cautious steps back, out of Bruce's immediate reach. "When did you figure it out?"

"I should have figured it out a lot sooner," Bruce said. "It's been you the whole time, hasn't it? You sneak out every month, kill an innocent, drain their blood. You've been right under my nose the whole time and I didn't see it! All those people, dead, because I didn't think my own partner could ever do something so brutal. How could you!?" 

"I had to!" Dick shouted back. "What do you mean how could I?! How could I not?! I do what I have to, to survive.”

"What's all this yelling about, then?" asked Alfred calmly, coming in from the med-bay.

"Stay back, Alfred," Bruce commanded. "He's a vampire."

"You've only just sussed that out, sir?" Alfred asked. An airy laugh floated off his lips. "And here, I thought you were supposed to be some stupendous detective." 

"You knew?" Bruce asked incredulously.

"You knew?" Dick echoed. "How long have you known?

"My dear boy, I knew the first time I made your bed for you," Alfred answered easily. "There aren't a great many humans who sleep with a bag of graveyard soil under their mattress. Did you think it was coincidence that I never made your place setting with the good silver, even when we had guests over?" 

"Why didn't you say anything?" Dick asked.

"Why didn't you?" Alfred asked in response.

"Why didn't either of you?!" Bruce demanded, slamming a hand down on the desk beside him. "Dick, we could have helped you! We could have found a way to keep you alive without killing others! We still can!"

"What makes you think I want that?!" Bruce stilled at the confession, feeling as though his heart had stopped beating. Dick barreled onward, his arms flailing in exasperation. "You think just because you have that stupid no-killing rule, I automatically agree with it? You think I'm so stupid I couldn't figure out another way on my own if I really wanted to? I happen to like things just the way they are!"

The silence was deafening. The bats squealing up in the stalactites like screams in Bruce's ears as he let those words sink in.

"You're a monster," he said at length, his voice low and deceptively steady for how horrified he actually was. "How... how could I have let you into my house, into the cave ? How could I ever have trusted you? How could I have fought beside an abomination like you." 

"What? You gonna cry now? Whine about how you can't trust me anymore?" Dick scoffed, but something in his eyes looked hurt, his stiff frown more genuine than his taunts.

"Are you going to kill me, now that I know your secret?" Bruce asked. Of course, as soon as he'd started to suspect, he'd prepared appropriate counter-measures, so he wouldn't go down without a fight. But by God he didn't want to have to fight Dick, to have to... to kill him, no matter what he was.

"I wasn't planning on it," Dick said. "We may disagree, but I lost one father already, I don't want to lose another one."

"I'm not your father," Bruce spat darkly, gritting his teeth. Those were words he never thought he'd say. Though they rarely referred to each other as such, he'd thought of Dick as family for a long time, and it broke his heart to reject him like that.

"Now both of you, there's no need for harsh words," Alfred said, stepping between them, trying to keep the peace. Bruce grabbed the silver knife he'd taped under the desk and held it at the ready, glaring as Dick lurched further away, driven back by his hostility. "Master Bruce! Don't you think you're taking this a bit far?"

"He's a murderer!"

"Boo-hoo!" Dick shouted back. "You gonna kill me now!? Break your one bullshit rule!? Just try it, Bat-Bitch!"

"It's not killing if you're already dead!"

"I was born dead, Bruce! This is the only kind of life I know! You're gonna execute me for that?!"

"I should!" Bruce screamed. "I should put you down now and save the countless people you'll kill if I don't!" 

"Enough!" The word cut through the tension in the air like a blade. It was rare for Alfred to raise his voice, and it gave both vigilantes pause. The old man disarmed Bruce of the silver knife and threw it into the chasm below. "There will be none of that as long as I'm around. There have been quite enough deaths in this family."

"He's not family," Bruce insisted again, rubbing his sore wrist. If he wasn't so emotionally compromised, Alfred wouldn't have been able to disarm him at all, but he felt like his very bones were trembling, his muscles tensing against his will. As it was, he was in no condition to fight anyone, especially not the person he'd once thought of as his son. Alfred opened his mouth to disagree, but Bruce cut him off before he had the chance. "Get out." 

"I beg your pardon?" Alfred asked indignantly, but Bruce was in no mood to oblige him.

"Dick," Bruce clarified through clenched teeth, glaring over Alfred's shoulder. "Get. Out. You're no longer my partner, and no longer a ward of my household. Leave the manor and never come back. If I see you again... I'll kill you."

"Fine, if that's how you want it," Dick bit out, and stormed past him, out of the Batcave. "We'll see who kills who in the end."

As soon as he was gone, Bruce broke down. He collapsed into the chair in front of the Batcomputer, and wept into his hands. There had already been so much bloodshed because of his own failure to see that his most elusive enemy had been his own partner the entire time. And to make matters worse, he could have stopped it right then, killed Dick—killed the undead monster who'd been preying on the innocent people of Gotham for years, but he just couldn't do it.

Alfred didn't offer any comfort. Just congratulated Bruce on alienating one of the last vestiges of family he had left, and went back upstairs without another word.

Chapter 5: Snow Moon

Summary:

Snow Moon: A good time to think about what you would like to achieve during the coming seasons.

Notes:

Jason's POV

"You keep calling me Robin by mistake anyway," Jason pointed out, frustrated. He'd been Batman's partner for a couple of weeks now, and though Bruce continually insisted that he'd need his own code name, so as not to impersonate Dick, not a single one they'd come up with so far was any good. Personally, he didn't think Robin was all that great either, but at least people already knew it. "Why do I need a different code name? All the ones we've come up with are dumb, anyway."

"You don't want to be Robin," Bruce told him solemnly. He was no less intimidating without the mask. "You don't want people thinking you're him."

"What the hell happened between you two anyway?" Jason crossed his arms over his chest. He was starting to get real sick of Bruce tiptoeing around anything and everything that had to do with his predecessor. "Even hearing the name Dick Grayson sets you off."

"We had a falling out," Bruce said, and Jason scowled in response. That was all he ever said on the matter, and it didn't really tell Jason anything at all.

"Yeah, you told me that, but what did you have a falling out about?" he pressed, trying to wheedle Bruce into saying something, anything, that might explain why he played everything Robin-related so close to the vest. 

"The details are none of your concern." 

Jason let out a frustrated huff and slumped against the desk in front of the Batcomputer.

They were interrupted when Batgirl came into the cave, running over to them with her red hair bouncing behind her. "You two thought of a code-name for Jason yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," Jason answered with a pout, his shoulders sagging. "I still don't get why I can't just be Robin. It's not like Dick's using it anymore."

"He's got a point, Bruce," Batgirl admitted. Her mouth fell into a deep frown, and she sighed softly, her whole demeanor suddenly drooping with displeasure. There was a good reason for her disappointment, Jason knew. "He's going by Nightwing now, have you heard?"

"I've heard," Bruce said gruffly.

Jason had also heard, but he didn't get it. Nightwing was a criminal who'd recently started operating in Blüdhaven. It made no sense to Jason that Dick would abandon justice and become a villain just because of a simple ‘falling out.’ Bruce's voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Did you have something you came here to discuss?"

"The latest victim of the Monthly Murderer finally turned up," she said, and Jason perked up. That was the longest active serial killer case in Gotham, and he'd been curious about it since he was still a street kid, before Bruce even adopted him. "The commissioner is looking for Batman's help, as usual."

"I'll come with you!" he volunteered, jumping upright from where he leaned against the counter and raising a hand enthusiastically, but Bruce immediately shot him down.

"No." He pulled the cowl over his head. "I don't want you anywhere near the Monthly Murderer case," he said. "Stay away from Nightwing, too. Just stick to thugs and thieves for now, Jason. We'll work you up to the bigger stuff." 

Before Jason could even argue, Bruce climbed into the Batmobile and drove off. The boy let out an irritated groan and sagged against the desk with his arms crossed once again. It wasn't fair. How was he supposed to be Batman's partner if Batman didn't trust him with anything?

"Aren't you going with him?" he asked Batgirl sullenly, but she sighed heavily and shook her head.

"No," she said, and leaned against the desk next to him. "A few months ago, just after he and Dick had that falling out, he took me off the Monthly Murderer case. Dunno why." Jason perked up.

"Were you there when it happened?"

"When he took me off the case?" She scrunched her nose in confusion. "Uh, yeah?"

"No, when he and Dick had their quote-unquote 'falling out'?" he clarified, stepping around to stand in front of her and look her in the eyes. "What happened? What was it about? Bruce won't tell me anything."

"Oh, that." She frowned and wrapped her arms around herself. "No, I wasn't there. Bruce won't tell me anything about it either, besides that it happened, and I've even spoken to Dick since then, and he won't give me any details either. He only said that Bruce was an asshole and kicked him out."

"You've talked to Dick?" Jason reiterated, watching her intently. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"I... yes, but I really don't think it's a good idea for you to reach out to Dick right now," she told him, hesitance in her voice as she squeezed herself tighter. "He's... changed. We've only spoken once since he and Bruce split, and he... just..." her attempts to explain dissolved into yet another sigh, this one of resignation. "I don't know what you're thinking of, but don't go to him directly."

Jason was thinking that he was supposed to be a detective. That uncovering truths people were trying to hide was exactly what Batman was training him for. And that if he was going to be the Bat's new sidekick, he had to know exactly what happened with the old one.

"I'm thinking if I can figure out what they had a falling out over, then maybe I can, I don't know, help them mend their relationship or something," he told her. "And if I can't, then maybe if I bring in Nightwing, Bruce will finally stop babying me and treat me like an actual partner and not a little kid." Instantly, Barbara shook her head.

"Don't go after Nightwing," she said sternly.

Most of the time, when Jason interacted with her, he felt like they were on more or less equal footing, both Batman's partners, both not quite adults yet—although at seventeen she was closer to it than he was. But then she used that tone of voice that reminded him that she was several years older and much more experienced than he was. He took a half step back.

"I'm with Bruce on this one, and I'm serious," she continued, absolutely stalwart in her intention. "I know how you feel, I do, but you're not going to prove yourself by going after Nightwing, you're going to get yourself killed." 

Swallowing hard, Jason realized the truth in that statement. He'd heard of all the things Nightwing had done since going off on his own and becoming one of Gotham's rogues, and it was none-too-pleasant. As much as he wanted to prove himself, he wasn't looking to end up in an early grave.

"Fine," he relented. "But I'm still going to find out what they fought about. Are you with me or not?" Barbara pressed her lips together in a line and eyed him hesitantly. "Come on, I know you've gotta be curious! Don't you want to know what they could have fought about that was such a big deal it split up the Dynamic Duo?"

After a moment, she sighed and nodded, her arms finally dropping to her sides. "As much as I really wish I could just mind my own business, detectives are nosy by nature, and it's killing me not knowing, so I'll help." He grinned victoriously. "Don't get smug. I'm not doing any legwork with you, just telling you everything I know that might help you. If Batman finds out and gets mad, I'm taking no part of the blame, understand? This is all you."

"Understood, now what do you got for me?"

"Admittedly, not a lot," Barbara said, turning her head away and closing her eyes as she wracked her mind. "Some conjecture and a few possible leads."

"Let's hear it!" Jason encouraged. "Anything at all is better than the nothing I've got so far."

"Well, you know I mentioned before that after their little schism Batman refused to let me help on the Monthly Murderer case, right?" she reminded. "Before that, he always listened to mine and Dick's thoughts on that case, and any other. That makes me think that maybe their falling out had something to do with the monthly murders. Maybe Dick followed up on a bad lead and something happened to him, or maybe one of Dick's suggestions led to Batman landing in a trap or something. I don't know what, and I don't really have any other evidence to back it up, but I have a hunch that case was involved somehow."

"Okay, well... that's something I guess. What else you got?"

"Dick said that Bruce was the one who was the asshole, and Bruce hasn't given any details." Jason made a face that clearly portrayed how weak he thought that lead was. "Yeah, yeah, I know. If Bruce said anything about it, he'd probably say it was Dick's fault, but he won't, so this is what you're working with."

"Anything else?" Jason asked hopefully.

"Alfred," she said simply, and Jason's eyes widened in immediate understanding.

"Of course!" He smacked his palm to his forehead. "Why didn't I think of it? Alfred knows about everything that happens in this house. Even if he wasn't there, he's sure to know something!"

Before he could run straight up into the manor to ask Alfred his questions, Barbara held out an arm to stop him. Apparently, she wasn't finished yet.

"I have one more possible lead, but..."

"What? What is it?" he pressed, eager to know anything she would tell him.

"I don't know how useful it would be, but... well... you could talk to Tony Zucco," she said quietly, almost as if she was afraid to suggest it. Jason furrowed his brows. The name was familiar but he couldn't place it. "He's the man who killed Dick's parents, and tried to kill Dick, too, and he got sent to Arkham for it. They say he's a paranoid schizophrenic, so I don't know how much good it'd be to talk to him, but even after years he always insisted that Dick was dangerous, that he'd turn bad, and, well... turns out he wasn't completely wrong about that."

Except for the bats up in the cave, and the quiet hum of machinery, there was silence as that statement hung in the air. Jason had never met Dick personally, and Bruce seemed to be of the opinion that he never should, but he knew of him. He'd grown up hearing about Robin, the Boy Wonder, but ever since Bruce adopted Jason, all he heard about was Nightwing, the dangerous criminal. 

Nightwing, who viciously murdered other criminals, leaving horrifyingly gory crime-scenes in his wake, who caused chaos and destruction, seemingly just to mess with Batman. It was hard for Jason to reconcile the villain Nightwing with the image of Robin in his head. Nearly impossible to comprehend that they were really the same person. If Batman hadn't told him, he never would have guessed, and so far, no one else had figured it out either. Not a single person—reporter, police officer, or civilian as far as they knew—had any idea that Nightwing had once been a hero.

"I'll... keep that in mind," Jason said at length, and Barbara nodded.

She inhaled sharply and stood up straight. "Welp, that's all I've got for you. Sorry, it's not much."

"That's alright." He shrugged dismissively. "It's better than the nothing I had before. I'm gonna go up and talk to Alfred."

"I just finished patrol, so I'm gonna go home and shower," she said. "Good luck, Jason. Let me know if you figure it out."

"Thanks. I will."

Chapter 6: Wolf Moon

Summary:

Wolf Moon: When the wolves howl to define their territories and locate the rest of their pack. It is the time to reflect inward, and start thinking about the seasons ahead.

Notes:

Dick's POV

Dick hadn't heard from his former guardian in months. The anger and heartbreak of being rejected still lingered. A part of him had hoped, however quietly, that Bruce would change his mind, and reach out, and then he could return to the place which had been his home for so many years. Instead, ten months after he estranged Dick, every paper in Gotham was reporting on the billionaire adopting a new ward, Jason Todd, a twelve-year-old street kid from Crime Alley.

As much as he knew he shouldn't resent the kid, that humans would expect him to empathize with a fellow orphan who needed a home, vampires had no such inclinations. Without ever having met him, Dick hated him, despised him for taking his place. He wanted the little punk gone.

Just a few short months after that, the papers reported, Robin was back, shorter, meaner, and less acrobatic. Dick positively seethed. This wretch had stolen his home, his family, and now, even his God-damned name. Jason Todd was going to suffer, and Bruce, empathetic bastard that he was, was going to suffer even worse when Dick got his revenge.

The door to the bar screeched open. Dick had started working there as a bartender shortly after getting kicked out of Wayne manor. He wasn't old enough to drink, but New Jersey law allowed anyone over the age of eighteen to serve alcohol, and the owner wasn't too particular about those kinds of rules anyway.

"Sorry, we're just about to close for the night," Dick said, looking up to see the woman who'd walked in. "I've already put away all the booze."

"Sorry, I'm so sorry, I just," the woman was crying. She had a bruise blossoming on her cheek. "My boyfriend he was—I—"

"Hey, it's alright now, take a deep breath. I'll get you some water." He poured her a glass of water and sat down with her at one of the empty tables. She drank some water, pulled herself together, and dried her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she said again. "It must be such a bother for you to have someone come in after closing and cause such a fuss. It's just... well..." she gestured to the slowly darkening mark on her face and sniffed. "My boyfriend, he gets violent sometimes. I had to get out. I was going to go to a friend's house, but I was freaking out walking in the dark, and you know, especially with that serial killer still out there, and it's been about a month since his last victim, I didn't—well. I got anxious and walked through the first unlocked door I could find."

"It's alright, I understand," Dick told her. "If you wait for me to lock up, I can walk you to your friend's house. That killer only goes after people who are alone. Together, we'd both be safe."

"Would you really walk with me?" the woman asked.

"Sure," Dick agreed. "I would have to walk home alone anyway. It'd be good to have someone with me at least part of the way. Just wait here while I finish cleaning up."

She thanked him profusely and when he finished closing up the bar, he followed her out and locked the door behind them. Despite the fact that she was now alone with the very killer she'd been afraid of running into, she'd actually lucked out. The bar had cameras, so if he killed her, the police would know that he was the last person to see her alive. There was no way he'd let himself be linked to a victim like that, so he walked her home safely, waved goodbye, and headed to his own apartment.

He would have to hunt again soon though. She was right about how long it had been since his last victim, and he was getting really hungry.

Chapter 7: Flower Moon

Summary:

Flower Moon: A time to look at tending to your own life and relationships, to make sure the seeds you planted can grow and thrive.

Notes:

Alfred's POV

A knock sounded on the kitchen door, and Alfred looked up, surprised. It was rare for anyone to knock, rather than just wander in. Probably, it was Master Jason, come to request something absurd, like to help wash dishes. He was such a nice young boy, but not raised to allow others to clean up after him. "Come in," Alfred said, and the door swung open with a quiet creak.

As expected, Master Jason walked through the door, dressed in his civilian clothes, but wearing the determined face of a vigilante. Something in the way he carried himself told Alfred that the boy wasn't just coming to offer help cleaning the dishes.

"Good evening, Master Jason," Alfred greeted with a kind smile. "I'm just about to finish with the dinner plates. Would you like some cocoa? I could put the kettle on."

"Um... sure, thanks Alfred," Master Jason agreed, and Alfred paused his washing to fill the kettle, put it on the stove, and turn on the fire. "Can I give you a hand with the dishes?" Alfred held back a sigh. He had expected this after all.

"Certainly not, Master Jason," he refused. "Was there something you wanted to speak with me about?"

"That obvious, huh?" The boy huffed a soft laugh, and took a seat at the kitchen table, resting his elbows atop it for only a moment before a pointed look from the butler bade him to remove them. "I wanted to ask about Dick." Alfred's hands stilled, water from the tap running over his rubber gloves.

"About Master Richard?" Alfred reiterated, not really having to wonder what the young master was going to ask about. There was really only one thing it could be. "What exactly did you want to know?"

"No matter how many times I ask why Dick left, all Bruce ever says is that they had a falling out," the boy began, and Alfred could feel imploring eyes fixed on his back, even as he resumed his task. "He doesn't tell me anything more than that. So I want to know what they fought about that made Dick leave."

"I'm afraid it's not my place to offer you the details," Alfred responded. "I can tell you that Master Richard did not leave out of anger, but because Master Bruce gave him no other choice. I can tell you that it was a failure to compromise, either due to an inability, or to a refusal, that led to the schism between them.

"But there are a great many secrets embroiled in their contention that I am most certainly not at liberty to reveal," he finished, and glanced over his shoulder to see how Master Jason reacted to his answer. Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem satisfied. "Do you have any other questions?"

There was quiet but for the running water and the gentle popping of soap suds in the sink as the boy considered what to say next, and Alfred finished rinsing the plates and started on the silverware as he waited patiently. Finally, Master Jason spoke again.

"You said Bruce didn't give him a choice," he said. "Do you mean that Bruce kicked him out?"

"Quite right," Alfred said, keeping the bitterness out of his voice with difficulty. "Harsh words and impossible choices were thrown in both directions. Master Richard was forced to leave his home and family and Master Bruce... he was forced to acknowledge what was unthinkable to him, up to that point."

"Acknowledge what?"

"I cannot say." Alfred placed another fork on the drainboard and took a breath. "I can only say that Master Bruce discovered something that made him feel he could no longer trust Master Richard, as either his son, or his partner."

"Discovered what?!" Master Jason insisted, standing up from his chair to all but demand the butler tell him.

"That is not my secret to share, but Master Richard's." After a moment, the boy was forced to accept Alfred's steadfast refusal and sat down again with a huff.

"Okay fine," he relented. "You also said that they split because they couldn't compromise—unable or unwilling or something like that. So which is it? Were they unable or unwilling?"

Alfred considered that for a long moment, realizing he didn't quite know the answer. Certainly there were things they were unable to compromise, Master Richard's reliance on human blood for nutrients, for example, was something he could not change no matter how Master Bruce might have wanted him to. But he had also said that he could have found a way to sate it without killing anyone, but had no desire to. Whereas Master Bruce certainly had the ability to accept his ward's vampirism, and refused to, but on the other hand, his morals simply could not abide the murder of innocents, no matter what.

As much as the butler still believed the two of them could have worked out a solution that didn't involve excommunicating Master Richard from the household with threats of death, he knew that they were both too stubborn to give up the things that made them who they were. Bruce would never sacrifice his morals, and Richard would never sacrifice the heritage left to him by his late parents.

"Both," Alfred answered finally.

"Both?" echoed Master Jason, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I don't get it."

"They were both unable to compromise in some aspects, and unwilling in others," clarified the butler as he rinsed the last knife from dinner and turned off the tap. "Some things cannot be changed, no matter how we might wish them to be. And yet there are some things that we cannot let go of, no matter how others may want us to. That may not have been the start of the problem, but it was the reason why things escalated to such a degree." He peeled the rubber gloves off his wrinkled hands and turned to face his young master properly.

"So what was the root of the problem then?"

"That would be the secret," Alfred answered easily. "For all that he keeps them, Master Bruce dislikes them to be kept from him. A bit hypocritical, but then, I suppose reason is too much to ask from a man who dresses up like a bat for the sake of justice."

Master Jason's snickering was very poorly concealed, and Alfred allowed himself a smile of his own. For all the boy's sometimes crude behavior, he did enjoy having him around the manor. Although, it made him miss another boy who'd once lived in these halls even more. How he wished they could have worked something out, so their family could have stayed whole.

"Was there anything else you wished to ask of me, Master Jason?" he asked.

"I guess not."

The tea kettle began to whistle, and Alfred turned off the stove and pulled a mug and some hot chocolate mix from the cupboards, mixing the beverage for the boy behind him. "How many marshmallows would you like?"

"As many as you can fit in there!" Alfred smiled and piled marshmallows into the mug, practically overflowing it.

"Have you finished all your homework yet?" he asked, handing over the mug very carefully so as not to let anything spill.

"Yeah, I did it early because I thought we were going on patrol, but then Bruce benched me because the commissioner wanted his help with a Monthly Murderer victim." Master Jason plucked a completely dry marshmallow off the top of the mound and popped it into his mouth.

"I see." Alfred's concern was most certainly visible, though it was probably being misinterpreted as concern for Bruce, and not concern for the murderer he was trying to catch.

"Babs thinks their split might've had something to do with that case," the boy continued. "Any thoughts?"

"None I'm willing to share," Alfred said, and Master Jason huffed in irritation again. "If you're free of other obligations this evening, perhaps a movie is in order. Shall I pop some corn?"

The boy hummed thoughtfully, and then shrugged. "I think I'll read in the library tonight instead, but some popcorn would be nice."

"Quite right, Master Jason," he acknowledged, and reached up into the cupboard for the kernels.

Chapter 8: Waning Crescent

Summary:

Waning Crescent Moon: A good period to cut things out from your life if you need to, whether it is dropping a dead-end project or ending a relationship that is harmful.

Notes:

Bruce's POV

A part of Bruce knew that Nightwing wasn't going to change, that the sweet little boy he knew, who had once been his ward, had always been an act. He'd been using Bruce as a human shield, to protect him from vampire hunters like Zucco—who didn't deserve to be sent to Arkham when he'd been telling the truth the whole time, but how the hell was Bruce supposed to prove that? He would go out and save lives, and then, in the same night, murder innocents right under Bruce's nose.

He knew all of this.

And yet, despite knowing, he couldn't crush the hope that the Dick he knew, that Robin, really was in there somewhere. Perhaps it was the fact that, as Nightwing, many of his victims were criminals he caught in the act, or just as likely, it might've been wishful thinking that kept that hope alive. Whatever it was, though he'd been the one to turn his son away, he still clung to that hope.

It was that hope that led him to seek Nightwing out on neutral ground and try to reason with him. The pure silver batarangs in his utility belt weighed heavily on his waist as he ventured into the outskirts of Blüdhaven, Gotham's sister city. He was sure that Nightwing was already aware of his presence, or if he wasn't, he would be soon.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly where the gaze was coming from, but Batman could definitely feel those eyes on him when Nightwing arrived. The villain hiding, unseen in the shadows, with Batman standing out in the open. The darkness of night providing no cover from the eyes of the nocturnal predator. Oh, how the tables had turned.

"Nightwing," Batman said, his gravelly voice pitching against the rocky surroundings. "Show yourself. I just want to talk."

"Show myself?" A painfully familiar laugh echoed off the cliffs and crags, making it impossible to tell exactly where the sound was coming from. "I seem to recall you saying something about killing me the next time you saw me, so I don't think I will, thanks."

It had been a very long time since the older man had felt so vulnerable. Standing there, in full body armor, shrouded in darkness, he felt as though he was completely surrounded by a single enemy. An enemy he had once loved like a son. An enemy who knew his every tactic, and his every weakness.

"Fine," Batman relented, one gauntlet straying to his utility belt, to the shining blades hidden under his cape. "You've killed over a hundred people since coming to Gotham. It has to stop."

"You've eaten over a hundred hamburgers in the last ten years, Batman. This is getting out of hand," came the response. "That's what you sound like. You sound fucking stupid."

"That's not the same thing and you know it."

"It's not the same thing to you," argued Nightwing. "Because you think of humans and cattle as fundamentally different. But to me, they're the same. Weaker life forms. Food. Tasty."

Batman's stomach churned. Even though he'd had time to come to terms with what his former partner truly was, even after years of seeing the worst the world had to offer, the idea of someone he thought he knew thinking of humanity as just a food source was still disquieting. If it had been a stranger, that would be one thing... but it wasn't a stranger. It was Robin. And he was saying such awful things without an ounce of remorse in his tone.

"Was that all I ever was to you?" Batman asked, trying to appeal to the empathy he had to believe was in Dick's unbeating heart. "Was that all Alfred was? Nothing more than livestock? Cattle?"

"You two were my favorite cattle, if that makes you feel any better." Bruce's heart sank at the statement. "Like the prize show cows that get to live a little longer because they're polite and win blue ribbons or however that works. I don't know. I was never into agriculture; we may have to nix the metaphor at this point, honestly."

"Alfred stood up for you," Bruce spat. He wasn't offended on his own behalf, but Alfred deserved better from Dick. "He cared about you, and protected you and your secret for years and that's all you think of him?!"

An animalistic hiss filled the air, sounding like it came from everywhere at once. "You raised me and cared for me for a decade, and all you think of me is that I'm a freak and a monster!" Dick shouted back, just as furious. "I feel like one of those is a significantly bigger problem!"

"I'd be inclined to change my opinion if you could find a way to survive without being a cold-blooded killer!"

"I'm a fucking vampire, Bruce! Cold-blooded comes with the territory."

Bruce said nothing. Nightwing said nothing. The water in the canal below splashed against the sheer cliff side on its way under Blüdhaven bridge. With each breath, a cloud of vapor billowed in front of Bruce's lips as he waited, guarded, to see what happened next.

"I notice you don't have your new sidekick with you," Nightwing said finally. His voice sounded like he'd changed positions, but the echo still made him difficult to pinpoint. "How is the little imposter?"

"I've told him not to use Robin as his code name, but... we haven't settled on another one yet," Batman said, immediately jumping to his new son's defense. The last thing he wanted was for Nightwing to think of the boy as a target. He had to protect Jason from this monster, even if it cost him his life—and knowing Nightwing, it very well might.

"Don't bother," Nightwing scoffed. "The little brat can keep it for all I care. I'm someone else now."

"So I've heard."

"Do you wanna know why I chose Nightwing?" the vampire asked. The question was clearly rhetorical as he immediately explained it anyway. "Back when I was still in the circus, once I turned five, my parents started taking me out to hunt. Since we were the Flying Graysons, we called it night flights.

"Once a month, which is as often as vampires need to feed, as long as we drink our fill, we would all put on these dark cloaks to keep out of sight, and my parents called those cloaks our night wings. And Mama and Papa would lead me into whatever city the circus had stopped in, and they would pick a target and teach me how to be a proper vampire.

"Maybe that kind of family bonding sounds sick and wrong to you, but not to us. It's a rite of passage for vampires, and it brings clans closer together. I chose the name Nightwing because calling myself Night Flight would have been completely embarrassing, but I still remember them fondly."

From the age of five?

Bruce's breath caught in his throat. Had Dick really been doing this since he was that young? No wonder he was so resistant to the alternatives.

"It was cruel of them to expose a child so young to such a dark practice," Bruce said sympathetically, but Dick hissed at him again.

"No, it wasn't!" he shouted, almost petulantly. "You're not getting it, B. They weren't human. I'm not human. Different species, different culture, drastically different opinions of what constitutes cruelty!"

"Murdering innocents for their blood is cruel!" He didn't think that was a controversial statement. It was a fact, and it left no room for argument, or so he thought.

"No, keeping them alive would be cruel," Nightwing disagreed flatly. "Some vampires do that, you know. Keep two or three humans as pets, thralls, groom them to be obedient and subservient, bleed them into unconsciousness every few weeks, and nurse them back to health so that they can drain them all over again once they've recovered. Wasn't your mother Jewish? In Judaism, consuming part of an animal while it's still alive is sacrilege, and yet, that's what you're asking me to do. Death is mercy."

"You expect me to believe that?" Bruce asked.

"You'll believe it soon enough."

"Is that a threat?"

Several moments passed, but no response came. With each passing moment, the silence grew more and more oppressive. The feeling of being watched had gone. Nightwing must have left. Bruce was alone on the cliff side. He retreated to the Batmobile and returned to the Gotham side of the bridge, pondering what exactly Nightwing had planned for him. What his fate worse than death would be.

Chapter 9: Storm Moon

Summary:

Storm Moon: A good time to start planting seeds, both literally and figuratively, in order to bring new things into your life.

Notes:

Jason's POV

While Bruce was on some solo mission, Jason took the opportunity to suit up and head to Arkham Asylum in secret. Alfred hadn't been the only lead Babs gave him, and even though she warned that Zucco may not be any help, Jason was determined to do the legwork and follow up on every possible source of information, to cover all his bases.

He didn't think that if he just went to Arkham and asked to speak with Tony Zucco, he was likely to be allowed in, but rogues were breaking out of the place all the time, so he didn't think it would be all that hard to break in. He was right, of course. They really needed to beef up their security system. It was kind of a joke. Bruce should really do something about it, or Batman—probably both, honestly.

Finding Zucco's cell took him a few minutes, but eventually he got there. He recognized the man from the files he'd found on the Batcomputer, but only barely. The man's hair had gone almost completely gray over the years; he'd also grown a beard and lost quite a bit of weight since his arrest. Most unsettling, though, was the look in his eyes.

Photos had led Jason to believe that Tony Zucco was a sharp, rough man. His eyes always looked as hard as steel. When Jason looked into those eyes now, that steel was brittle and broken.

"Well, well, well!" Zucco's voice was deep and raspy. He leaned back in the chair bolted to the floor of his cell. "Aren't I a popular fella lately? To what do I owe the pleasure, little tweety bird?"

"I have some questions for you about the people you killed," Jason said, wasting no time with trash talk or pleasantries.

"Oooh, you'll have to be more specific," Zucco said, shaking his head thoughtfully. "I killed a lot of people." Jason's lips curled into a sneer and he gripped the edge of his cape to keep him from throwing a punch at the man. "They were probably vampires. Have you looked into that?"

"John and Mary Grayson," he said darkly. "Two acrobats at Haly's Circus. You killed them, and planned to murder their son as well. What can you tell me about the Graysons."

"Oh they were definitely vampires," Zucco said matter-of-factly. Then he stilled suddenly, his eyes widening in alarm. "Oh, but there's no such thing as vampires! Obviously. But they were."

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Jason pushed the idea of vampires out of his mind. "How did you kill them? And why?"

"Poisoned them with vervain to weaken them so when the trapeze broke they wouldn't be able to heal from the fall," Zucco explained. "They were slowly dying before they hit the ground, the fall only sped the process along. Made it look like an accident. 'Course that damn kid of theirs was supposed to be on the trapeze with them when it broke. I don't know how he tipped off the Batman, but I'm sure it's his fault I'm here."

"Wasn't he, like, eight? Why would you want to murder a child?"

The man leaned forward and whispered one word. "Vampire." A growl escaped Jason's lips.

"He's all grown up now, so you know," he told the man darkly. "Vampires can't age, so I guess you were wrong about him being one." He'd thought it was a pretty solid argument, but Zucco was insane, so obviously he didn't agree.

He scoffed. "Shows what you know. That kid was born a vampire, which means he can grow up, but he can't grow old. That's how it goes."

"How can someone be born a vampire?" Jason demanded, though he was trying to make a point, and wasn't really looking for an answer. Zucco gave him one anyway.

"Baby vampires are stillborn, then the parents bleed into their mouths, then bury them in the earth for thirteen nights and twelve days, and on the final night, the baby will start to cry, and the parents exhume it. Once it's been fed human blood, the transformation is complete. The child will age for fifteen to twenty-five years, depending on various factors, and then they'll simply stop."

"The mental gymnastics you're doing to justify your delusion is staggering," Jason told him flatly. This conversation was growing increasingly more frustrating with each passing moment, and he internally questioned why Babs had pointed him to this nutjob at all.

"Born vampires were my specialty once," Zucco told him proudly. "Of course they don't actually exist, you understand. But if they did, I would know quite a bit about them."

"You're a little off."

"I was perfectly sane before they put me in here and turned me crazy." A manic laugh bubbled up out of the man's mouth that made Jason's skin crawl. He wasn't getting anything useful out of this guy, so he turned to leave. "Wait!" Zucco shouted, his laughter halting abruptly as he called out to Jason.

"You're not thinking about confronting that Grayson kid, are you?" Zucco asked. "He's not eight years old anymore. He's a full-grown vampire now, and he'll kill you without hesitation. Bring a silver blade and some holy water with you, at the very least. Garlic even. Don't confront that monster unprotected."

Jason knew better than to engage. Instead, he kept walking down the hall, out of the asylum, planning the rant he would subject Babs to the next time he saw her without Bruce present. Getting out of the asylum was almost easier than getting in, and once again he thought of bringing it up to Bruce. Although, he'd have to find a way to do that without revealing that he'd gone there himself. Maybe he could wait for the next mass breakout and do it then, because there was definitely going to be one, and probably soon.

When he got back home, Jason went in through the back door of the manor, even though it meant walking past those foul-smelling purple flowers that were planted by the service entrance. Hopefully, by sneaking into the kitchen, he could keep Bruce from finding out that he snuck out as Robin while he was gone.

After he changed, Jason headed back up to his room to sulk about having exhausted all his leads. There, he found a perfectly ordinary white envelope on his bedside table. To the new Robin was written on the back.

Cautiously, Jason pulled his pocket knife from a drawer, and cut open the envelope, aiming it away from him, in case there was something dangerous inside. Rather than anthrax or anything like that, inside was just a letter, written on lined paper in blue ink. Curiosity rose in his lungs until he was almost holding his breath with anticipation as he read it.

Jason, right?

I've heard about you from the news. I'll admit that when I first found out Bruce adopted a new son after what he did to me, I was upset, but it's not your fault. I've decided that just because Bruce and I can't get along anymore, doesn't mean that should sour my relationship with you. You're my little brother, now, after all.

I'd like to meet you, if you're okay with that. I'll even come to meet you on your turf, in Gotham, rather than Blüdhaven, as long as you don't bring Bruce along. There's a quiet little 24 hour cafe called Bean Square on 6th street. Weird name, I know, but they have really good pastries and cocoa. Because of the hours I work now, I'm asleep most of the day, but I'll meet you there at nine on Saturday night.

I can't wait to meet you, little brother!

Love,
Dick Grayson

Dick had signed the letter with a smiley face.

This was the guy Bruce and Babs had both warned him away from? From the letter, it didn't seem like he was such a bad guy. He was just mad at Bruce, which Jason could understand, because he'd definitely been mad at Bruce before. The guy did his best, but he had a lot of room to grow, especially in the father figure department.

Dick had even given him a few days to decide whether he wanted to go to the meeting or not. He wasn't sure if he would. Although... hadn't he just been moping about not having any leads? Even if Dick's opinion of the falling out was bound to be biased, he would know better than Babs or Alfred what went down. He would have to give it some thought. He had until Saturday night.

Chapter 10: Strawberry Moon

Summary:

Strawberry Moon: Indicates a time to go outside, to celebrate and enjoy the long days and abundant sunshine.

Notes:

Bruce's POV

After his confrontation with Nightwing, Bruce finished his patrol in Gotham before returning home. Back at the manor, he decided to check on things before going to bed. Alfred was already fast asleep, safe and sound. So was Jason, wrapped up in his blankets in bed, and Bruce breathed a sigh of relief.

It was as he was closing the door that Jason rolled over in bed, and Bruce noticed something sticking out from under his pillow. Worried it might be some kind of weapon planted there by Nightwing, he rushed to his son's bedside and carefully removed it. He was half right, as it was from Nightwing, but it wasn't a bomb; rather, it was a letter.

If he'd been concerned before he read it, he was even more so afterwards. The meeting Nightwing had proposed was so clearly a trap. It could be nothing else. He had half a mind to wake Jason up right away and tell him so, forbid him from going to meet Dick, but instead, he let the boy rest. They could talk about it tomorrow.

In the meantime, Bruce set out to make sure that this was the only time Nightwing had reached out to Jason. He checked security footage from all around the manor, and it seemed that Dick had not come at all before or after delivering the letter, but what Bruce did find was almost as bad. Recordings of Jason speaking to Alfred and Barbara about Dick, declaring his intention to find out the truth about the reason the Dynamic Duo split up, scouring the Batcomputer for any files about it, although thankfully, Bruce had wiped all of them from the mainframe.

It was a dangerous game, to be sure, and Bruce planned to put a stop to it as soon as possible. It was over their next meal together that Bruce decided to bring it up.

"Jason, I need to speak with you about something," he said.

"What is it?" Jason asked, apparently unconcerned.

"Nightwing." Bruce produced the letter from his pocket and placed it on the table. Jason's eyes widened and shifted back and forth between Bruce and the letter. "I know you're investigating him, and you have to stop right away. It's much too dangerous."

"Why?!" Jason demanded. "Why is it dangerous?" Bruce didn't answer, couldn't answer. He knew how it sounded. "You keep telling me to stay away, but you never explain anything to me. Of course I'm gonna investigate! That's what you've trained me to do when someone's withholding information!"

"Not me," Bruce said. "When I took you on as my partner, it was under the condition that you always do as I say, follow my orders, no matter what."

"That's a bullshit rule," Jason said, crossing his arms and frowning severely. "I know you've got more experience, and you know what you're doing, but I'm not a soldier. We're a team."

"Not if you can't follow orders," Bruce argued harshly. "I absolutely forbid you from meeting Nightwing." Jason visibly gritted his teeth, and didn't respond for a moment.

"Fine. I won't meet Nightwing," Jason replied, and Bruce opened his mouth to argue, before his brain registered the words Jason had said.

"Really?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the boy, who seemed to be giving in much too easily.

"Really," he confirmed. "I still think you should explain what's actually going on, and I still wanna know why you're so against me meeting him, but fine. I trust you. I won't meet Nightwing."

"And you'll stop your investigation?" Jason pursed his lips in displeasure for a moment and then sighed.

"Fine, sure, whatever," he relented. "I'll stop." Bruce narrowed his eyes even more and Jason threw up his hands defensively. "What? I promise! I'm not gonna stop asking until you give me a real answer, but I'll stop my solo investigation."

"Good," Bruce said. As out of character as it was for Jason to give in so easily, it seemed like threatening his position as Batman's partner was enough to do it. Bruce was satisfied that Jason really did plan to keep his word. Of course, he'd be sewing tracers into all the boy's clothes, and increasing his security measures on Jason, at least until Saturday night.

They finished their meal in silence, and Jason didn't bring up the subject again that day. Hopefully, that would be the end of it, and Jason was out of danger. Of course, Bruce knew that wouldn't be the case. Even if Jason wasn't about to fall into Nightwing's trap, the villain could always set another one. But Bruce would protect him. He would always be there to protect him.

Chapter 11: Blood Moon

Summary:

Blood Moon: A symbol of death and the downfall of a leader

Notes:

Jason's POV

When Saturday came, Bruce decided to bench Jason from patrol, just in case, and told Barbara to watch him. Obviously, Jason had to complain, if only to keep up appearances. He had his own plans for tonight.

"Come on, Bruce!" he whined—no, he didn't whine per se, he was just expressing his displeasure with Bruce's decisions in a mature and reasonable manner. "If you're really that worried, shouldn't you take me on patrol with you so you can keep an eye on me yourself?"

"I don't want Nightwing to have the slightest ability to access you," Bruce answered. "You're safe in the cave. Stay here."

"Access me?" Jason scoffed. "I'm not a poorly secured mainframe, Bruce, I can take care of myself."

"Not tonight." It was clear in his voice that Bruce would be taking no further arguments. "Barbara, make sure he stays put. I'm trusting you to keep him out of trouble."

"I'm not his mom—" she cut herself off under Bruce's glare and grumbled in acceptance.

"Good. I'll see you when I get back." With that, he climbed in the Batmobile and left.

As soon as he was gone, Jason dug out a knife and took off his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Babs asked.

"Shh!"

They couldn't discuss anything aloud or Bruce would be onto them before Jason could put his plan into action at all. He mimed writing and she rolled her eyes, but went to grab a notepad and a pen anyway. While she did that, Jason pried the tracers Bruce planted out of the soles of his shoes.

He accepted the notepad Babs gave him.

We're going to meet Dick. he wrote, then said, "Can we go out for dinner?"

"No."

"Oh, come on!" he moaned, scribbling an argument on the notepad. If we go together it's not a solo investigation anymore. "How much trouble do you think I can get into at a burger joint?"

"Absolutely not!" she refused, crossing her arms. "Batman said to stay right here."

"Can we at least order out? Give Alfred the night off from cooking?" He said not to meet Nightwing. We're going to meet Dick. Did you read the letter? She nodded, looking conflicted. "Please?" Jason asked. "I love Alfred but he makes terrible hamburgers."

"Alright fine," she agreed. "But you have to stay in the cave."

"Way ahead of you," he said. Holding the tracers aloft, he whistled for Ace. "Hi, Bathound!" he said, taping the tracers under his collar. "I'll just stay here with Ace and have a grand old time, and you can go up to the manor to meet the delivery guy when he comes."

"Sounds good," she said. "What kind of burger do you want?"

While they discussed burgers, Babs speed-typed a script and ran it through a voice program that was modified to sound like the two of them. It wouldn't hold up if Bruce was listening too closely, but it would cover for them long enough. "Alright, I ordered online, it should be here in thirty minutes."

"Awesome!" She hit ‘start’ on the voice program, and another conversation filled the cave, generic and boring. Their voices sounded real enough, but lacked any expressiveness they would normally hold. Babs gestured for Jason to follow her to the garage.

Once they were in her car and driving toward sixth street, they could finally speak freely and Jason asked the burning question on his mind. "So what made you change your mind?"

"The letter," she said. "It sounded... it sounded like the old Dick. The way he was before he and Bruce fought. I guess I'm just hoping he didn't change completely."

"Me too," Jason said. "I didn't know him before, except his reputation, but I still can't figure out how someone who used to be Robin could end up like... well, like Nightwing. How he could just change so quickly. I just want to know the truth."

After a good half hour of driving, they arrived, almost twenty minutes late, to the café Dick asked to meet at. If Bruce had come to see if Jason would keep his word, he was gone by then. Hopefully Dick hadn't left yet. The lights were on inside, but it looked empty.

"I guess this place is pretty much dead a quarter after nine," Jason observed. He and Babs walked in the front door, a little bell above the door rang. They hadn't been able to see much through the tinted windows, but once they got inside, the confusion set in.

The tables and chairs were shoved up against a wall, all stacked and out of the way. The cashier counter had been torn out, leaving the kitchen unobscured. There were no people at all, no customers, no employees, not even any dishes. "Uh... Jason... I don't think this place is open," Babs said.

"Aren't you the observant one," came a voice from behind them. Nightwing was standing by the door, holding it closed. Where he'd come from, neither of them knew. "Yeah, this place closed three months ago."

"It's a tra—" she didn't even get to finish the word before Nightwing was suddenly right next to her, holding her fast with his teeth sunk into her throat. It was mere seconds before Nightwing let go of her, but she was already unconscious and she dropped to the ground with a thud, bleeding sluggishly from her neck.

Jason could only stare in shock, as the blood oozed into a crimson halo around her head, soaking her hair even redder than before.

"I was hoping you'd come alone, but I thought telling you to would be too obvious," Nightwing muttered. "Damn. Sorry, Babs... I really didn't plan for this, but it had to be done." He turned to Jason, wiped the blood dripping down his chin. "I guess it's just as well. I was pretty hungry. I've been saving room."

"Oh my God..." Jason breathed, taking a shaky step back, willing his legs not to give out on him.

"Oh, I'm the furthest thing from God," Nightwing said, and then he laughed, completely amused like that wasn't a horrifying thing to say.

"Zucco was right... you're..."

"You talked to Zucco, huh?" His eyebrows lifted above his mask in surprise. "Wow, I wasn't expecting that. You really covered all your bases, huh? Yes, I'm a vampire."

Forcing his hand to move despite his shock and fear, Jason reached into his pocket for the batarang he'd brought with him just in case, and he threw it, hoping against hope that it would do something. Perhaps it was his trembling hands, but the batarang flew wide. Nightwing didn't even try to dodge and it still only grazed his arm.

Surprisingly, the villain let out a guttural hiss and recoiled, clasping his opposite hand over the injury. "Oh, fuck me, Bruce is making those things out of silver now? That bastard!"

Seeing Nightwing hurt jolted Jason out of his fear enough for him to start running toward the kitchen, toward the back door, toward freedom.

That fantasy was short-lived.

Nightwing recovered quickly and in a blur of black and blue he was in front of Jason. He grabbed him by the neck and slammed him to the floor with inhuman strength, grinning at the boy with blood-stained fangs. Jason struggled against the grip, but Nightwing just lifted his head and slammed it down again, dazing him.

"Stop squirming, kid; it's not going to do you any good. Batman'll be along soon to watch the show. He's been coming by every twenty minutes, and the last time was fifteen minutes ago," Nightwing informed him. Oh thank goodness. He'd give Jason a talking to, but he wouldn't let Nightwing kill him. Then the vampire laughed at his sigh of relief, his breath carried the metallic scent of death to Jason's nose, and the boy remembered that five minutes was more than enough time for him.

"So this is what that falling out was about, huh?" Jason asked, thinking that he could distract Nightwing by talking, and he wouldn't kill him before Batman could arrive. "You two fought because you're a vampire."

"That was part of it," Nightwing said. "He was also mad at me because I lied to him and hid it from him for ten years, and also because of the Monthly Murderer thing."

"What Monthly Murderer thing?" Jason asked. He just had to keep him talking. Four more minutes. Keep him talking. "You mess up the investigation or something?"

"No," Nightwing scoffed, then paused thoughtfully. "Well... actually, yes, I guess I kinda did." He grinned. "I am the Monthly Murderer, after all. I couldn't make it easy for him."

"You... you're..."

"Quit stammering, kid. I know you heard me," Nightwing said. "Yes, 'tis I, the Batman's most elusive foe! I still think the name is stupid, though. I tried to get him to change it to something cooler, but nothing ever stuck."

"Serial killers don't deserve cool names," Jason spat, and Nightwing slammed his head against the tile floor again. He was sure he was developing a concussion, but it would be fine, as long as he survived.

"We'll see if you still think that when it's you."

"W-what?" Jason stammered. "What are y-you gonna do to me?"

For a long moment, Nightwing was silent. Three minutes. Jason only had to hold out for three more minutes.

These were the longest minutes of his life.

"You know, I was really sad when this place closed," Nightwing said instead of answering. "I used to love coming here. The windows, they have this tint on 'em, did you see? It blocks UV rays, so I could come here on a sunny day, and I could look outside, and feel the warmth without the light hurting me. I used to come here with Bruce or Alfred, and sit by the window, and stay here until the sun went down, looking over a case file or doing homework."

"Sounds n-nice," Jason's words were starting to slur together. Where was Batman?

"It was," Nightwing agreed, looking around the stripped café nostalgically. "Not a lot of buildings in Gotham bother with UV protective windows, just because it's almost never sunny around here anyway."

"Why are w-we talking about this?"

"We're waiting," Nightwing said. "Only about two minutes now."

"Y-you mean, you're not gonna kill me b-before Bruce gets here?"

"What fun would that be?" The vampire stiffened and tilted his head. "Ah, there it is, the sound of the Batmobile." Jason didn't hear anything. "He'll be here a little early." Nightwing stood, dragging Jason up with him, turning him so that he pressed against Jason's back, pinning both his arms down with one of his own.

Now that he was upright, he could see Barbara again, her eyes had opened, and were glazed over and vacant. Even if she wasn't dead yet there was no way she'd survive. Jason had brought her into this. Even though she'd warned him not to go, he still convinced her to come with, and because of that she'd been killed. His eyes stung with tears and he squeezed them shut so he wouldn't have to look at her anymore. Then he heard the roar of the Batmobile, rapidly approaching.

It pulled to a stop in front of the café and Jason screamed. "H-help! Help!" Nightwing didn't try to stop him, though he did click his tongue in annoyance when Batman crashed through the front window, shattering it into pieces.

"The door was unlocked."

"Let him go," Batman demanded, then he noticed the body on the floor. "Barbara!"

"Oh, she's definitely dead by now, but you're welcome to try to save her if you want," Nightwing said. "She wasn't supposed to be here, but this one" — he jostled Jason to make his point — "couldn't read between the lines. I won't be letting him go, by the way."

"Release him!"

"Or what? You'll throw one of your fancy new silver batarangs at me?" Nightwing scoffed. "You won't. You know exactly how fast I am, and you know if you do, I'll just make sure it hits him."

"You could have killed him by now, easily," Batman said, standing defensively across the room, knowing one wrong step could result in Jason's death. "But you didn't? Why wait for me? Just for the sick satisfaction of making me watch? That's not your style, Dick. You're not going to kill him."

"You're half right, actually. You see, I wanted to prove a point," he responded.

"And what point would that be?"

Nightwing pulled off the glove of his free hand with his teeth, and bit into his own wrist. Black blood dribbled unnaturally slowly from the wound. "Death is mercy."

He forced his bleeding wrist into Jason's mouth, and Jason choked on the foul taste like disease and decay, while Bruce screamed and begged in the background, almost drowned out by the sudden ringing in his ears. "No! Dick! Don't do this! Please!" Reflexively, he swallowed, trying to get the bitter taste off his tongue. It burned on the way down his throat, and he could feel it leaching into his veins as Nightwing finally let go and he dropped like a stone.

Chapter 12: Cold Moon

Summary:

Cold Moon: A time to spend with family and friends, to celebrate the beginning of winter.

Notes:

Bruce's POV

Batman knew something was off as soon as he saw Barbara's car parked in front of the closed café. Either Jason had given her the slip and stolen her car, or the two of them were in cahoots. A quick check into the bug he left in the cave confirmed the latter, as he heard their voices, monotone and emotionless. He should have noticed sooner.

The Batmobile squealed to a stop and Bruce jumped out, it was then that he heard Jason from inside the store, shouting hoarsely for help. In a flash, he vaulted over the hood, and smashed through the front window in his rush to get inside. The first thing he saw was Nightwing, standing there with Jason held fast against him, scowling. He said something pithy that Bruce didn't care to listen to, instead demanding that Jason be released.

It was then that he saw Barbara, bleeding out of the floor, and he gasped. He had known Dick harbored a grudge against him. He’d even suspected that Dick resented Jason, incorrectly believing the boy to be his replacement. But he never could have imagined that he would kill Barbara.

However, if he'd already killed Barbara, then why was Jason still alive? Surely it wasn't just to force Bruce to watch as he died, that wasn't Nightwing's style. He preferred to work quickly and be long gone by the time the bodies were found.

Apparently, he wanted to prove a point, but Bruce couldn't guess which. The two of them disagreed on so many things these days, there was a veritable laundry list of points he might want to prove. When Nightwing answered him, however, he felt his blood run cold.

"Death is mercy," he said, and there wasn't enough time to react before he'd torn open his wrist with his teeth, and forced Jason to swallow his blood. As soon as Nightwing let go of him, Jason started to fall, but the villain caught him, and held him like a sleeping child. He flashed Bruce a fangy grin and ran toward the back door of the café.

Bruce gave chase, his feet pounding against the floor, his heart pounding even louder in his chest, as he ran full tilt after the vampire, intent on getting his son back. He wouldn't lose another one. He swore he wouldn't.

The chase stretched over a mile, two, three, all the way downtown, with Bruce sprinting the whole way to keep up with Nightwing's supernatural speed. Anyone else might've fainted, but not the Batman, not as determined as he was then. Even as late as it was, though, there were still people downtown, and Nightwing had been personally trained by Bruce himself to be a master of stealth.

Bruce didn't look away for even a second, barely even blinked, but somehow, it didn't matter. It was as if Nightwing had just disappeared, gone from view. Instantly, Batman switched from chasing to searching, examining every shadow, every possible hiding place for Nightwing and Jason. After a half-hour, however, he had to acknowledge that they were probably halfway to Blüdhaven already.

He would have to redouble his efforts to find out where Dick was living. Much as he would never admit it, he hadn't been trying too hard thus far, reluctant to do what had to be done. Things were different now, now that Jason was involved.

He summoned the Batmobile to pick him up using its self-driving function and returned to the Batcave. Despite the late hour, Alfred was there.

"Master Bruce," he greeted. "Master Jason and Miss Gordon are—"

"Gone," Bruce cut him off.

"Yes…. Do you know where they are?"

"Dead," Bruce answered. "They went to meet Nightwing, against my orders."

"Oh dear." The realization visibly dawned on Alfred, and Bruce had to look away. Oh God, what was he going to tell Barbara's father? How could he possibly explain this to Jim? What could he even say to the man? How could he ever look him in the eyes again?

"He killed Barbara," Bruce said, trying so hard to keep his voice from breaking. "And Jason he... he turned him. They're gone, Alfred." He didn't trust his voice to say anything more, but there was nothing more to be said, anyway.

This time, when Bruce wept over the loss of his son, Alfred knelt beside him, offering comfort, and compassion, and shedding silent tears of his own.

Chapter 13: New Moon

Summary:

New Moon: A symbol of new beginnings

Notes:

Jason's POV

He passed out. Passed out? Maybe... or maybe it was something else. He didn't know how long he was out, but when he woke up he felt cold, tired. Everything was loud, sharp. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and his teeth felt weird and achy. Something smelled amazing. It made his mouth water.

"Thirsty, Little Wing?" A voice came from above him, and Jason looked up to see Nightwing, crouching over him. Everything looked brighter for some reason, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. Was the sun coming up? "I grabbed you a snack." Nightwing extended an arm to him. Not his arm, a severed arm, with pale skin dripping with... blood.

That incredible smell... it was blood. And Jason was starving.

Without even thinking he lurched forward and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh. They went in easier than he'd expected. They were sharper now, optimized for just this.

"That should tide you over for a little while, but you'll need more soon," Nightwing said as Jason drained every last drop he could. "Babs didn't have much left in her."

Upon hearing that, Jason's eyes widened, and he recoiled with an inhuman hiss that he had no idea he was capable of making. It had taken far too long for his brain to catch up with his actions, but he understood now. He understood why everything felt different, why his senses were sharper, why he craved blood, why he was, even now, eyeing Barbara's corpse, salivating over his friend's remains.

"Still got some of that human sympathy, huh?" Nightwing observed. "Don't worry. Now that you've eaten it'll start to go away."

"Why did you do this to me?" he asked, throat closing up.

"It wasn't about you, really," the villain said casually, dropping into a sitting position on the floor. "I just wanted Bruce to suffer the way he should have when he kicked me out and threatened to kill me. It's nothing personal, kid."

"You made me a monster."

"I made you a vampire," Nightwing disagreed, releasing the words into the world for the first time, and making Jason's breath catch with emotion, heartache, fear. They were muted, like he was feeling them all through a layer of cotton that dampened the impact of them. "Whether or not you become a monster remains to be seen."

"I drank Babs' blood."

"Yeah, but she was already dead."

"She died because of me."

"If that's how you see it, then you were already a monster before I turned you," Nightwing pointed out. "In which case, you really haven't got much to lose."

"Where's Bruce?"

"Probably still halfway across town," came the answer. "After you died, I picked you up and took off. He gave chase, but I gave him the slip downtown and circled back so you'd have something to eat when you woke up. He could be back any second, though, so we should really get a move on."

"No way!" Jason refused. "I'm waiting for Bruce and I'm going home!"

"You think you can just go home?" Nightwing laughed, a hearty, bitter laugh. "You can't go home now. The manor and the Batcave are vampire-proofed to hell and back. Bruce grows garlic outside almost every door, and even had a priest come and consecrate the grounds of the entire estate. I could stand it long enough to give Alfred that letter for you, but you're a baby! You can't go back. Even if you could, he'd kill you."

"Batman doesn't kill."

"If you're already dead, the rule doesn't apply," Nightwing scowled. "Why do you think he has silver batarangs now? Or carries holy water in his utility belt?"

"I'm not dead!"

"Check your pulse, kid, then say that again." Hesitantly, Jason pressed two fingers against his throat. His skin was cold, and so very still. No pulse. His heart clenched, but it didn't beat. "If you want to survive, come be my sidekick. You're way too young and inexperienced to make it on your own. You'll be fried by the first sunrise."

"Maybe I should be," he said, and Nightwing stilled. He grabbed Jason by the shoulders and took off his domino mask and forced him to meet his eyes. Looking into those supernaturally blue eyes made Jason almost dizzy.

"Listen to me," he said, very firmly. "I didn't give you a choice, which means you don't get to feel any guilt about being a vampire. That's for me to carry. You don't deserve an incredibly painful death of turning to ash because of what you are. You deserve to be healthy and happy just like everyone else." Nightwing blinked for the first time since their eyes locked and cracked a smile. "Now come on, Robin. It's almost dawn."

"Oh... okay." Jason had no idea why he didn't argue. He felt calm, suddenly, at ease. He let Nightwing help him up, and followed him out of the closed-down café, running with him all the way back to Blüdhaven, relishing the cold wind blowing past him as he ran at incredible speeds. He grinned, pearly white fangs shining in the waning moonlight

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Yes, I wrote seven fics for Batfam Reverse Big Bang 2023, what of it?