#dextra2

It was like a mockery of Little Red Riding Hood.

He wasn’t near the city. He wasn’t even near the manor. So what the kid was doing out here – in the middle of the night, without any gear, without even his dog – Jason would never know.

He was mad, that’s why he was out here. And it was easier to be mad, he’d found, in the form. Easier to destroy the things under his hands, let loose all the rage he had, not hold back for the sake of others. Easier to get away – from the problems, from the people who caused them, from those who didn’t, and those he might hurt – out here in the woods.

He was just jumping. Biting at tree limbs and scratching at stumps, imagining it was the throats of the rapists and criminals in the city. Wishing it was – and that’s why he was so mad, because Bruce wouldn’t let it be.

Bruce and his morals. No murder, no wolves. Not in his city. And even worse – that bastard wanted to lock Jason up. Keep him under quarantine until the magic worked its way through Jason’s system. Until it disappeared and Jason’s wolf was just a barely whispered memory.

Well, no thank you sir.

He was growling, mostly to himself, darting in a circle, slashing at anything he sensed around him. Stupid Bruce. Stupid city. Stupid magic.

He sensed another tree behind him, but as he spun around to hit it, he heard the snap of a twig, the shuffle of leaves as something passed through them. He let the growl build in his throat as he finished his turn, hoping to scare away whatever poor soul had come upon him, but was forced to freeze, almost blinded by the contrast of the red hoodie that came into his vision.

And the bright blue eyes above it.

Damian looked…miniscule. Young and tiny. Looked no more than two feet tall to the wolf, who, by the magic that created him, was closer to seven. His head was craned back so far, the hood slipped quietly away from his hair.

There was a moment of surprise between both of them, before any sort of familiarity set in. And Jason was going to say something, honest, because he could, because apparently having the muzzle of a canine didn’t impede the ability to speak, not completely.

But Damian beat him to it.

“Hello.” Damian muttered gently, eyes wide and lips parted in wonder. The boy kept his distance, but otherwise didn’t move. Hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt as glanced around the area, taking in the damage to the trees in the bright moonlight, his eyes practically glowing in that same white light.

But…that was it. After Damian surveyed the clearing, was satisfied with what he’d seen, he turned away, continued down the path, the red splash of his hoodie disappearing into the blackness of the forest.

Jason remained where he was, listening to Damian’s footsteps walk away. Suddenly he felt antsy. Anxious, heart pounding, fear gripping at his bones. Because it was the middle of the night. Because it was cool out here, with the oncoming autumn. Because despite it all, Damian was a child. Strong, tough, smart. But so small.

Because he should not be out in these woods by himself.

Where was Bruce? Where was the kid’s dog? Hell, the kid’s cat or that cow? Where the fuck was Dick?

The answer didn’t matter, and Jason immediately found his anger morphing, turning into a fierce protectiveness as he launched forward, and chased the scent of his kid brother through the trees.

Damian didn’t jump when Jason raced up behind him. Just glanced lazily upwards, eyes still bright, and curious. Intrigued and entirely unafraid.

He should be scared, Jason thought. He should at least be defensive. I could tear him apart, like this.

But he wasn’t.

Guess even Damian Wayne could be naïve when he wanted to be.

“Are you okay?” Damian asked, not slowing his steps at all, still staring up at Jason like…

Well.

Like he was actually important.

Damian, oblivious to Jason’s internal struggles, pressed on. “Are you lost?”

And Jason huffed – did he really expect a wild wolf to answer?

“…That’s alright.” Damian hummed, looking back down to the ground, to the barely-visible path they were travelling on. “You may come with me, if you like.”

They lapsed into another silence, and Jason lifted his head, sniffed the air. Blinked.

Because they were heading west. Jason knew that, could know that, thanks to the cool new wolfy-senses.

But.

Gotham was south of them. And Wayne Manor was east.

Damian said he could go with him. But just where was he going?

“So, you have a name? Do you go by something in your pack?” Damian asked, after another quarter-mile or so. In the darkness, Jason heard an owl, and felt his hackles rise. Felt that growl rebuilding in his throat as he took an involuntary step to the side, bouncing his elbow off Damian’s shoulder. Damian didn’t seem to notice, or at least mind, the motion. “Actually…where is your pack?”

Jason just snorted, rocked his nose against Damian’s temple.

And Damian…laughed. A quiet sound. An innocent one. Jason doesn’t think he’d ever heard it before. Wondered if Dick had, or Bruce.

“Ah, you must be one of those lone wolves, as Grayson likes to say.” Damian rolled his eyes, but then continued. Voice softer, and…a little sadder. “But don’t worry, I don’t have a pack either.”

Jason downright froze at that. Damian walked a few more feet ahead before turning, staring at Jason with fiercely apathetic eyes. Jason just cocked his head to the side.

“What, you find that so unbelievable?” Damian asked incredulously. Another chuckle, but this one darker. Drier. “Do you really think I’d be out here right now, if I had a family?”

Uh-oh.

And it wasn’t Jason this time, not really. But the wolf, the creature now inhabiting his soul. It was him who began growling. Him, who swore to tear anyone who hurt this pup limb from limb.

“But it doesn’t matter. Come on.” Damian whirled back around. Kept walking forward. “Or don’t, if you don’t want to. You don’t have to. I don’t care.”

The wolf snorted, because suddenly, Jason did.

He pattered up to Damian’s side, and when the child glanced up this time, he did seem a little surprised. The surprise didn’t last long, though, and melted into a grateful smile.

“…You are much more loyal than my previous partners.” Damian whispered. “And I think loyalty is a very important trait to have.”

Jason pushed his nose against Damian’s forehead again.

“You never did answer my question, though.” Damian reminded, shaking his head to fix the strands of hair Jason had just messed up. “Do you have any sort of name?”

Well, it was a little late to speak up and say he was his mostly-estranged older brother Jason Todd, now wasn’t it?

Damian looked up at him, still with the expectation that the wild beast would actually answer the question.

Jason had to pause again, though. Because…wait, did Damian know?

“…You look like a Hesperus to me.” Damian decided finally, and all intrigue of Damian knowing about his current condition subsided, as Jason recoiled instantly.

Really? You couldn’t just go with like, Fluffy or Mr. Pawpaws?  

But Damian just…shit. For some reason, the kid just looked so hopeful. So…trusting.

(So lonely.)

“May I call you Hesperus?”

Jason snorted. Did the dog-equivalent of an eye-roll. No.

But somehow, to Damian Wayne, that translated to yes.

“Hesperus it is.” Damian announced, turning back to the trail. “Welcome to the family, Hesperus. I’m…sorry it’s so small.”

Damian lapped into another hush, then, apparently out of things to say or ask. Sociality was never the kid’s strongest suit, and he could thank his dad for that. Jason didn’t mind, though. There was a bit of comfort in the quiet, actually, here with this kid. Because Jason had found that: Damian could be okay, if he wanted to be.

He just…never wanted to be.

And Jason was under the impression that he and Damian could be friends. Hell, he and Damian could be close, as close as he and Goldie were, if they each gave each other a chance.

But that’s what made them similar – they were stubborn, and thought they knew everything. And one of the things they thought they knew, was that the other was a piece of shit.

But that would never stop either of them from protecting the other. And right now, it was the dead of night. Right now, Damian was out wandering in the woods by himself. Right now, Jason wanted to know why.

(And right now, Jason wanted nothing more than to get that little boy home, and get him safe.)

Damian was walking in a straight line, and it was only now that Jason noticed he had no previsions. No backpack of supplies, not even proper walking shoes. Just the clothes on his back, and every step taking him away from home.

He let out a low, sad whine.

Because even if he didn’t know, he could guess. And even if he couldn’t do that – he’d been there. He’d been a kid, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’d been stubborn, always looking forward, always looking for a way to change his life, be in charge of his own destiny.

How many times did he try to run away himself? Both from his life on the streets, and then later from Bruce?

(How many times did it not work? How many times did someone come after him?

…Why wasn’t anyone coming after Damian?)

He glanced back down at the child, took in the blue eyes once more. But they weren’t just bright and eerie. Jason now saw that they were sad. Tired. Exhausted, really.

That wolf in his heart growled again.

No. No. Not again.

Damian was not going to be another him.

Without warning, he jumped forward, and spun around on the path, loomed over Damian’s face. Teeth bared and growl low. Damian held his arms up in front of him, nervous, and finally – finally – scared.

Like he should have been from the start.

“What the-”

But Jason didn’t give him a chance to finish, ducking his nose through Damian’s feet, and flipping the child onto his back.

“Hesper-”

Once he felt Damian’s tiny weight settle between his shoulder blades, he took off, smirking when he felt Damian’s little fingers digging into his fur.

Hang on tight, twerp.

Jason tried to keep mostly to the path, knowing that any snapping branches might hit his passenger hard enough to injure. Also knowing that once Damian got his wits back, he’d be able to reach for a loose branch, and disappear back into the darkness.

And that just wouldn’t do.

It turned out that Jason wasn’t as far into the forest for his little temper tantrum as he thought he was, and Wayne Manor came into view not long into the journey. He hopped the fence with ease, and darted across the yard like a monster was hot on their tails.

He could hear Damian making aborted sounds of confusion as recognition hit his brain. Jason ignored him, though, too focused on how he was going to get into the house.

Well. Bruce was an asshole. So. Why not break his shit.

He tore around the side of the house, and rammed into the double glass doors that opened into the incredibly obnoxious dining room. Glass shattered around them, but Jason was too quick, sprinting out of the way before the shards could fall on them.

He ran through the empty room – not-so-accidentally side-swiping an expensive vase with his tail along the way – bursting into the hallway and making his way towards the stairs.

Jason could smell Bruce, somewhere in the house. Probably the cave. Didn’t care, though, because the man wasn’t going to stop him.

(Just like he apparently didn’t stop his eleven-year-old.)

As Jason raced up the stairs, he heard a bark. Glanced up to see Titus waiting, ears back, legs tense. Growl melting from his mouth.

That’s my boy.

And Jason returned the noises. Gave Titus his own howl, a little whine, just to appease to the dog of the house.

I want to put him to bed, Jason pleaded. And Titus’s ears perked. I just want to get him safe, and keep him there.

The Great Dane didn’t make another noise, spinning as soon as Jason reached the landing, and leading the way towards Damian’s room.

“Titus, do you-” Damian shouted, struggling to hang on still. “Do you know him?!”

Titus glanced up at Jason, and Jason realized that – yeah. Titus knew him. Titus knew him, exactly.

And Jason couldn’t help it. He let loose a joyous howl, as he and Titus barreled into Damian’s room. He didn’t need a whole lot of friends, didn’t have all that many to begin with – but he was glad that, even in this form, he at least had one.

Titus ran to the window, snuffling at the cat who had been sleeping there. Jason didn’t follow, too busy running to Damian’s bed, and flopping the child down onto it.

Damian fumbled in the mattress, and it gave Jason just enough time to find the blanket, to grip in his teeth and pull it up over Damian’s head.

And before the boy could find his way out, Jason sat on his haunches, flopped his front legs and his torso over Damian’s chest. When Damian finally appeared from under the blanket, it wasn’t Jason, but the wolf – the real Hesperus – who leaned down, huffed in Damian’s face.

Stay.

He didn’t know what the family did to upset Damian so much, would find that out later, but for now.

For now.

No more dead Robins. No more lonely children. No more unprotected young souls.

“Wha…?” Damian breathed as Titus came up to his side, and the cat hopped onto the bed, crawling royally over Jason’s back. Jason just shifted; making it clear he wasn’t about to let Damian up any time soon. “What…just happened.”

Jason just gave his best doggy grin, leaned down and licked a stripe up Damian’s nose and over his forehead. Damian blinked rapidly, staring disbelievingly up into Jason’s face.