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Chapter Text

Nobody hunted alone. This was the golden rule of the Hunters. People could and would wage wars over what the other rules, traditions or regulations around demon hunting were supposed to be and how they were supposed to be followed, but nobody argued with this one. Nobody hunted alone. Mostly because those who did tended to end up dead.

Self-enforcing, really.

That meant that with Lynx—Helena, now that she was off-duty—confined to the hospital, and then the desk, for the foreseeable future, Tiger needed a new partner.

He gave the offending splint around Helena’s knee a nasty glare. From her hospital bed, Helena laughed at him.

“That’s not going to make it heal any faster.”

Tiger had always been told he had a very intimidating glare. Historically, it had been very useful in helping him get his way. He recognized that, even so, that meant nothing in the face of Helena’s quite epically torn ACL. 

Helena laughed at him more. “Come on. A new partner won’t be that bad.”

Tiger shifted his glare to her. “Yes, they will be.”

The Hunters agency had a long, storied past and very high entry requirements. This naturally lended itself to cliqueishness. Tiger and Helena had been one of those cliques. Finding somebody you worked with well meant that much more chance of staying alive. Everybody currently unpartnered was a rookie, bad at their job, or damn fucking unlucky. 

None of those appealed to Tiger. 

“Well, would you rather work the desks for the next year while I get better?” Helena asked.

Tiger was honestly considering it. Not only was Helena incomparable in terms of skill and familiarity, but he also had a uniquely terrible track record with partners. Lynx had been a stroke of fortune. He wasn’t keen on risking himself in another disastrous partnership, even if it was only supposed to be temporary.

“How are you not more upset about this?” Tiger replied muleishly. 

Helena sighed, and her expression sloped into darkness. Tiger appreciated the honesty.

“Of course I am,” she said. “I’m so upset I want to fucking scream. But I’ll be more upset if you don’t keep fighting just because I’m not there.”

Tiger pursed his mouth. He turned his head away from her, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue. 

“You will be very difficult to replace,” he muttered finally.

Helena gave him a wan smile. “Pick up the slack for me,” she said. Commanded, really. With a nod and a roll of his eyes, Tiger agreed.

≬

He was called in to Canary’s office a day later to be debriefed on his new partner assignment. In any other area, this speed and efficiency from the Hunters would’ve been expected. In sourcing Tiger a new partner, however, it was a bit of a surprise. Good hunters were hard to come by. Especially ones that matched up to Tiger’s rather exacting standards. Tiger was reasonably apprehensive, and a tiny bit intrigued. Whoever they’d found had to be quite the agent.

Nothing really prepared him for walking in and seeing Robin’s grinning features on the screen.

He stopped short. For a long, terrifying millisecond, Tiger was knocked off balance and facing down a precipice. 

Robin. Robin.  

Tiger tried, and failed, to keep the name from bubbling up in his memory.

Dick Grayson. 

“Good, you’re here,” Canary said, apparently oblivious to the way Tiger’s motor functions had briefly stopped working. “Take a seat, hunter.”

Somewhat grateful for the order, Tiger took a seat. His every movement was stiff. His mind was reeling. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. 

Dick Grayson. Even without the accompanying identifying data, Tiger would’ve recognized him. There was something about Robin that was unmistakeable. Even 5 years on.

Tiger didn’t want to, but he took in the rest of the profile ravenously. 

D.J.G.

CODENAME: OWL
AGE: 21
BASE OF OPERATIONS: NEW YORK

Owl? Something rocked in Tiger’s mind at the idea of Dick not going by Robin anymore. He almost flinched at the words. 

It seemed a lot had changed. 

Of course a lot had changed. It had been 5 years.

“This is Owl. He’ll be transferring in tomorrow to be your partner.” Canary’s eyes flicked to him with an amused look. “I read that quite extensive list you sent Hal on your requirements. You’re lucky that you weren’t demerited for the nerve, you know.”

Tiger couldn’t share in the humour with her. Tiger had no fucking idea what was going on.

“With all due respect, Ma’am,” Tiger started. His voice was strange. Weak, warbly. He did not sound like himself.

Canary cut him off with a wave of her hands. “Tiger, trust me, he’s the closest we’ve gotten to even fulfilling half of your little list . He’s got the stats to back him up, and I’ve seen him in action: he’s a damn good hunter. You won’t have anything to complain about.”

Tiger could think of quite a few things already, actually. The longer he stared at Robin’s—Owl’s???—smiling profile picture, the more he felt a headache building up in his temples.

He’d really thought they’d never see each other again. He’d thought, for some stupid reason, that Dick would have the sense to stay away from him. As if sense was ever something Dick Grayson possessed.

“With all due respect,” Tiger said again, that respect being slightly lower than the first time he had said it, “there is no way in fucking hell or heaven I’m partnering up with him.” He added, “Ma’am.”

He expected Canary to get angry and tell him it was a direct order. Or maybe she’d laugh and reveal that this was all just a joke to fuck with his head. Maybe there was all some terrible mistake.

He did not expect her to roll her eyes and go, “Christ, Tiger, at least meet the kid first before writing him off. Adaptability is a good trait for a hunter to have.”

The rest of what she said filtered out against the ringing in his ears. He stared at her, for the first time in his life perfectly convinced that he was losing his mind. Demon hunting drove a lot of people to insanity. Tiger had never before considered that it would happen to him until this very moment. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t find any words. 

Before he could even try to phrase his thoughts, Canary dismissed him with a flick of her hand. “No more arguing, hunter. Tomorrow you meet Owl and the two of you can go on patrol. After that you can come to try and convince me he’s the devil’s spawn, if you so wish.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Understood?”

No. Tiger did not understand. He replied, “Yes, ma’am,” because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. His mouth seemed numb around the words.

Canary nodded. “Good. Dismissed, hunter. Send my well wishes to Lynx.”

Mechanically, Tiger stood up. He walked out of Canary’s office feeling as though he was floating in his body. 

He had no fucking idea what was going on.

Chapter Text

≬≬≬

All this time without you: I feel the weight of it like an anchor on my chest. It threatens to crush me, and only the thought of seeing you again keeps me going. Because I will. I will see you again; we will meet again. Every day is another day closer. 

All my love. See you soon.

≬

Nobody hunted without a partner. Tiger knew this. 

Tiger also knew, however, that Hostile 816 had shown up in Sunnydale three days ago and already caused just as many casualties. Tiger knew that it was managing to evade all of the active Hunters on the case so far. Tiger knew that, even if he had only gotten his clearance last month and was still waiting for a partner assignment and therefore unable to do anything more than recon, chances like this did not come by very often. 

816 limped past the spot Tiger was hiding in. Until now, it had never been seen outside of when it killed, and never left any tracks. Recon was generally difficult. Until now.

Tiger knew the rules like the back of his hand. He also knew the cost of inaction. The biggest new threat to land in Sunnydale’s turbulent waters was skulking past Tiger’s hiding spot—cursing up a storm, though without any particular sophistication—and he was going to go after it. There was no time to waste. He had been trained to hunt. He was going to hunt.

Tiger waited a few heartbeats, until 816 was a good distance away, and began to slip after it. Easy, quiet. He’d follow it back to its lair and confront it there, surprise it when it was least expecting. There wouldn’t even need to be a fight, if Tiger got it right.

His steps were light, and the shadows were his guide. He followed it all the way to an apartment block on the outskirts of the suburbs. The vampire had probably killed a previous resident and moved in. Or worse, turned them. So there was the possibility of an accomplice in there, which complicated things, but was still nothing some brief observation couldn’t fix. Tiger still had this. 

816 made its way to the stairwell. Several options branched out from here: follow it in, but that would be risky; look for a light in the window, but there were likely to be blackout blinds; kill it in the stairway before it got any further, but that was a tight and unfamiliar space, and Tiger fought with a crossbow. No choice, then. Follow it in. 

Here it was: the hunt. What he was wanting all along.

Somebody, directly next to him, said, “Oops, think you’re about to lose your man.”

The dagger was unsheathed and in Tiger’s hand before he even thought about it. He’d trained for this too. He turned and stabbed the person decisively in the abdomen. 

Or he would’ve, if they hadn’t dodged. 

They rolled backwards, laughing— laughing —and said, “Woah there, my guy, not a very nice way to greet a fellow hunter.”

A fellow hunter. Tiger looked, and it was true that they were wearing a Hunter uniform. That didn’t mean anything, however; any old fucker could kill a Hunter and steal their clothes. Tiger had never seen them before, and in a town like Sunnydale, that was bad news. 

“Your badge,” Tiger snapped.

From where they were squatting, the intruder shrugged. “Demands, demands,” they commented, but they pulled a badge out and tossed it through the air to Tiger, flippant and assured. They acted like a hunter, at the very least.

Tiger caught the badge and flipped it open.

D.J.G. Codename: Robin. Sixteen years old. Gotham based. Blood type O-. 

Robin had been watching Tiger as he read. Whatever face he made when he read the word Gotham made Robin go, “Ah, shit, I have to get that changed. Just got in town today. I’m transferring into Sunnydale.”

The age limit for Hunter clearance was seventeen. Tiger knew a hoax when he saw one.

He rose to stand. “You,” he said, imperious with sudden fury at the elaborateness of this scheme, at how he was the chosen target, at the implications of somebody trying to infiltrate the Hunters at all, “are guilty of impersonation, perjury, and interfering with the mission. Come easily and I won’t have to hurt you.”

Robin looked up at him with bright, blue eyes. He smiled.

“And you’re hunting without a partner.” His teeth were white in the moonlight. His irises seemed to glow. “I don’t know if they do it differently here in Sunnydale, but I know what would be considered the bigger crime where I’m from.”

It was a threat. A polite, unassuming one, but a threat all the same. Furthermore, it was a threat only a Hunter would be able to issue. If Tiger was caught hunting without a partner, he’d be stripped of clearance and put on desk duty for an eternity. Or worse, put into a deployment. There were many rules and schools of thought around hunting. The one fucking thing everybody agreed on: you don’t hunt alone.

He narrowed his eyes and asked, “Who are you?”

Robin smiled. “You know, that’s usually the first question people ask,” he said cheerfully. Then, he stuck out his hand and continued, “Also, you did just look at my badge. But! I’m a nice guy, so: I’m Robin. Pleased to make your acquaintance, hunter. May the moon ever be on your side.”

The reply came almost unbidden to Tiger’s lips. “And everywhere the sun shall shield you,” he replied, bristling at this entire interaction, but unable to leave Hunter doctrine unanswered. He hadn’t heard it recited in a while. Hunters in Sunnydale generally left it to the sidelines; when monsters were knocking down your door every night, there was not a lot of time for book club. 

Overenthusiam for the doctrine usually indicated somebody was a zealot. Robin didn’t look like a zealot, but then again, he was from Gotham. Who knew what they considered normal over there. He had interrupted a hunt.

Tiger didn’t move. 

After a moment, Robin looked down at his empty, still proffered hand, and sighed. He didn’t move beyond that either.

Eventually, Tiger gritted his teeth and shook the idiot’s hand. It was clear they weren’t going to progress any further unless he did. Robin had a look in his eyes that Tiger often saw in the gazes of Hunters before they ran headfirst and stubborn into danger and came back bloodsoaked. It was, unfortunately, a common Hunter trait. 

Fine. He could work with that. He said, “I’m deputising you. You’re my partner for the purposes of this hunt now.” Unless the interaction had alerted 816, and he was already long gone. Tiger cursed in the confines of his mind.

“Nope!” Robin replied. “Can’t. No clearance, haven’t reported to HQ yet, I only got in about an hour ago.”

Tiger raised his eyebrows. 

“You arrived an hour ago and the first thing you did was stalk a stranger to the edge of town?”

Robin shrugged cheerily. “You looked interesting. And honestly, what kind of hunter would I be if I didn’t?”

That was, tragically, a good point. Tiger would’ve probably done the same thing in his position.

He sighed. There was no way he was getting anything done with this guy around, he could tell. He’d found Hostile 816’s lair. That was already an achievement. He would have to suffice with passing along the crucial information and letting somebody else take the kill.

…

Teeth grit, he considered his chances of knocking Robin out and going in alone. Not good. Robin, despite his clear frivolity, was a Hunter. There was an alertness about him. Tiger knew he couldn’t underestimate him.

He grit his teeth harder.

Finally, he said, “Very well. I’m going back to HQ to report.”

Robin brightened. “Ooh, should I come with you? I was going to do introductions tomorrow morning, but no time like the present, right?”

Tiger was amazed his teeth hadn’t ground into dust. “Do what you want.”

There was a glint in Robin’s eyes that told Tiger he knew exactly what he was doing. He stepped closer to Tiger, and Tiger shifted slightly away. Worst comes to worst, Tiger supposed he could lean on the one year of rank he had over Robin. It wasn’t a pretty prospect, but he was in dire straits.

“An escort to HQ,” Robin said. He smiled that terrible, moonlight and pearl smile. “Maybe Sunnydale isn’t as bad as they all say.”

Idiotic statement. Too idiotic to even warrant a response, but Tiger still gave one.

“Don’t get your hopes up. This town is worse than you could possibly imagine.”

Robin gave a warm, theatrical sigh. “Just like home.”

≬

After five minutes of dressing down— you were irresponsible and reckless, you made decisions in a vacuum, you told nobody of your movements —none of which Tiger could really argue with, Eagle sighed and massaged her temples. 

Tiger sensed a but coming.

Eagle sighed again. 

“But the information is valuable. Beyond valuable. So. Thank you, Tiger, even though if I had my way, you’d be taken off duty on the spot.”

“I was on recon,” he said, as mild as he could manage. “I did recon.”

“I am not here to mince words, Tiger. You know what you did was not in the spirit of your orders, even if you technically didn’t break them.” She gave him a dry look. “And, I suspect, if you hadn’t been interrupted, you would’ve gone on to do exactly that.”

Silence was a virtue, so Tiger didn’t say anything in reply. They both knew she was right. 

Eagle sighed once more, and then leant down to open a drawer. Tiger’s file was already open on her desk. Tiger knew everything that was in there, so it did not concern him. What was concerning was when she pulled out another file.

She said, “Despite the fact I don’t think you deserve it, I do have good news for you.” She even went so far as to give him a smile, although begrudging. “You’ve received a partner assignment.”

Very immediately, Tiger didn’t love where this was going. 

“He’s transferring from interstate,” she said, oh no, absolutely fuck this, “so there will be some adjustment required, but rest assured he is more than capable. He was granted clearance a year early for his achievement. Take care of him, and he will take care of you.”

Absolutely fuck this.

A voice from behind him—when the fuck did he enter the room—went, “Ma’am, I’m nothing so special, but thank you for your kindness. Kindness is often the least used weapon in the Hunter arsenal, but ever the most important.”

Robin walked up and took the seat beside Tiger. He sent him a grin. 

And the unused knife will always dull. Tiger bit down on his lip and looked away. 

Amused, Eagle replied, “And the unused knife will always dull. Tiger, this is Robin. Robin, Tiger.” She did something that looked terribly like a smirk. “I hear you two already made each other’s acquaintance.”

“I think we’re on the fast track to being best friends,” Robin replied. Tiger wasn’t looking at him, but he could see the smile grow wider in his mind’s eye.

Eagle sat back in her chair. With a look at Tiger, she said, wry, “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“I’m a bleeding heart optimist.”

Eagle snorted a laugh. “Bad thing to be, in this business, but a miracle that you managed it at all considering where you’re from.” 

“Oh, Gotham's not too bad,” Robin said with a shrug. Clearly, there was something wrong with him. “Once you get good at ignoring the constant wailing, it's downright peaceful.”

Eagle laughed again. She sent something that looked suspiciously like a fond, knowing look Tiger's way. Tiger didn't want to know whatever it was she knew, and wasn’t feeling very fond, so he ignored it.

She said, “Alright, you have your assignment. Keep on your best behaviour and try to get along, and maybe you’ll survive to maturity yet. Dismissed.”

Tiger got up and walked out, with Robin trailing behind. Tiger didn’t want to look at him. Even though he knew that this was a good development—now he could go on actual missions and make an actual difference—and that working with Robin wouldn’t be unbearable, something about the whole situation still unsettled him. 

Robin skipped a few steps to catch up and nudged Tiger in the shoulder. 

“We meet again,” he said, smiling. “Partner.”

Tiger pursed his mouth. “Can you fight?”

Robin grinned. “Sure I can.”

“Good. Keep out of my way.”

“Ah,” Robin said, sounding almost nostalgic. “This is going to be good fun.”

≬

Nobody hunted without a partner. So Tiger had a partner. 

≬

He could fight. 

Robin moved like static shocks and hit like a drawn bow and slotted in so perfectly next to Tiger that he was keeping out of Tiger's way, because he somehow knew where Tiger would be every time. There was no adjustment period. They hit the ground running.

The universe was nothing without balance, so to counteract the fact that he could fucking fight, Robin also made constant quips, terrible jokes, and could never mind his own damn business. It drove Tiger crazy. One time he even made a vampire laugh, right before he staked it; Tiger did not see this as something to be particularly proud of, but one look at Robin's triumphant face and he knew what he thought about it. 

But it was undeniable. Robin could fight. Robin could fight, and he could win, and he could take a hit. Out of everything, this raised Tiger's respect for him the most. 

It also made him the most infuriating partner possible. 

Every fucking time Tiger was put in above-average danger, Robin would somehow be there, throwing himself in front of whatever managed to menace Tiger. It was insane. Tiger was a hunter. He was not weak, and no stranger to injury. There was no need for Robin to jump in front of every fucking bullet, and yet—

Stop that, Tiger told him, and Robin had raised his eyebrows and said, stop what? Fighting?

The Hunter doctrine said this: your partner is your own. You are with them, or you are without anything at all.

Sometimes, the only way to get through to an idiot was to speak their own idiotic language. So the next time a demon tried to claw out Robin's eye, Tiger threw himself in the way. It was ridiculous and completely unnecessary and Tiger hated every second of it, but he knew that the message had gotten across from the way Robin looked at him for the rest of the night.

Afterwards, Tiger grabbed him by the hand and said, “You, idiot, are my partner. I am with you, or I am without anything at all.”

It was the first time Tiger had touched him. Purposefully. The beginning of the end.

Robin tilted his head, mild and curious, like a bird. He replied, “Your blood is my blood. Your life is my life.”

Hunter doctrine, Tiger reflected, was stupidly dramatic. No wonder Robin liked it so much. He wasn't a zealot. He was simply, and maybe worse, a believer. 

≬

The fighting was one thing. The fighting was what Tiger thought was going to be most important, the most crucial part of the equation. But in the end, it wasn't about the fighting.

It was, instead, about everything else. 

“What are you doing?” Tiger asked. 

In the kitchen at HQ, Robin stood, idly shifting around a pan over flame. 

He looked over his shoulder at Tiger, smiled, and replied, “Making pancakes.”

Tiger blinked. “It’s 6 am.”

“Well, Tiger, breakfast is usually the time people make pancakes.”

“What are you doing up?” he asked. Robin had only gotten home at 2 am last night. Tiger knew, because he had been alongside him the entire time.

Robin gave Tiger a look. Tiger assumed he was supposed to implicitly understand the meaning of this look, but he did not, and he didn’t really want to.

“Making pancakes,” Robin repeated, with an air of great patience. “What are you doing up?”

“I just finished prayer,” Tiger said curtly. He had some sense that there were two different conversations happening here. “Now I’m going to the gym.”

Tiger's morning routine: wake before the sun, wash, pray, exercise. Eat. Eventually.

With a deft wrist movement, Robin flipped a pancake. Stuck the landing. Somewhat mildly impressive. 

“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asked. 

Robin's morning routine: wake up before the sun, yoga, make breakfast. He would eventually amass a group of hunters, all around their age, who joined him for the meal. Tiger avoided it purposefully at first, and then habitually after.

 Tiger said, “No. I eat afterwards.”

“It’s not good to exercise on an empty stomach.”

“Even worse to exercise on a full stomach.”

Tiger recognized that Robin was being kind, but he had his routines for a reason. He liked when they served him and moved on when they didn't, and these had been serving him for seventeen years.

Robin said, “So go later. Join me now. I promise these are good.”

The pancakes did look good. He cleared his throat and said, “I’d prefer not to.”

A shrug. “Alright, suit yourself.” Robin turned away from Tiger, and poured another pancake. Tiger felt slightly disoriented. Somehow, he had expected more of a fuss.

≬

Robin preferred to fight with eskrima. His had a retractable point at one end, to effectively turn them into stakes if the need arose.

He was flipping one in his hand. Over and over and over. He did this often; it must’ve been a restless habit. Tiger kept waiting for him to drop it, but the moment never came.

“Vampires are big in Gotham. Not bigger than in Sunnydale, obviously, but I reckon it comes pretty close.”

Tiger snorted. “No wonder. It’s basically been terraformed for them,” he replied. He was sharpening one of his bolts. The escrima idea was fine, but at the end of the day, he would always favour his crossbows. 

Robin threw his head back laughing. He had a windchime laugh he pulled out for adults and polite conversation, and a witch’s cackle he reserved for things he actually found funny. Both grated Tiger, but the cackle less so.

“Shit, you’re right,” he said, between said cackles. “All that gothic architecture. Maybe we need to bulldoze it all and take architecture tips from Disneyland, see if that does anything.”

Tiger considered that. “Poltergeists.”

“Oh, big time poltergeists. Poltergeists in horrifying bright toy animatronics.” Robin was grinning. The mere mention of Gotham had set him alight, and now he was delighting himself with the idea of possessed Disney animatronics. Clearly, he had a tendency to be attached to detrimental things, and horrible taste.

≬

Hostile 816 went off the radar. Nevermind; it was Sunnydale. There was always something else lurking in the shadows. There was always something else.

And now, with Robin by his side, there was more often than not, a lot of victory.

“We make a pretty good team, huh?” Robin said. He was breathless, bleeding, smiling as he retrieved his eskrima from the corpse of their latest successful elimination. 

Tiger let something like a laugh fall from his own mouth. He too was breathless, bleeding. Feeling the adrenaline of something bigger than he could really wrap his mind around running through his bloodstream. Smiling.

“You're not a complete idiot,” he replied. 

Robin rolled his eyes and held out a hand to help Tiger up. When Tiger reached for it, he snatched it away, cackling as Tiger was left to grasp at air.

“Too slow!” Robin chirped.

It was childish. Inane. Beyond idiotic. Tiger found himself wanting to laugh. “Fuck you.”

≬

“Were you always a Hunter?” Robin asked.

No. “More or less,” Tiger replied. He’d been trained to hunt, even without the title hanging over him. “You?”

“Nah. I used to be an acrobat. Lived with a travelling circus and everything.” He smiled. “Trapeze specialist.”

That explained all the fucking flips. Tiger said, “That’s a big career change.”

Robin shrugged. He looked sad and he looked beyond sadness, sad in the way that marble statues are, sad and distant from it entirely. 

“The world will make a tragedy of us at any moment it can,” he murmured. “Let us fight it anyway.”

That passage was one of Tiger’s least favourites in the doctrine. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as though he disagreed. 

Let the stars look upon us in our glory and our tragedy and envy the way we burn.

Was he burning? Was this how it felt? 

≬

As they walked out of the graveyard, Tiger closed his eyes and steeled himself.

Then, he said: “Robin.”

“Tiger,” Robin replied. He looked over at Tiger. Tiger wished he was still looking away.

“Stop flirting with the other hunters.”

Robin blinked. Tiger could see what would happen next before it happened.

A prophecy in motion. A grin took over Robin's face. His eyes were glowing in the moonlight, like they always did. It was somewhat terrible to have to look upon him in the nighttime.

“Tiger! I didn’t realize that was any of your business,” he exclaimed, scandal and obvious delight tinting his tone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you acknowledge another hunter’s existence before this.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” Tiger snapped, and then he killed any of that statement’s credibility by continuing, “You’re my partner, and we’re here to do a job.”

He wasn’t jealous. Robin could simply do with a bit less time spent making eyes at people over breakfast and more time doing. Well. Anything else.

Robin watched him, his gaze weighted like he was doing more than simply watching. Tiger didn’t know when they had stopped walking, but they were here now: in a graveyard, navigating what the hell partnership under the Hunters compromised. Your partner is your own. You are with them, or you are without anything at all. The only guideline they had for this was probably written by crazy people, because that was what you had to be to start something like the Hunters. Tiger was seventeen and on fire. None of it made sense, and he wanted it to make sense.

Robin said, “You know you have me,” easy and solemn. He said the words as though they were something physical he could hand to Tiger. When they landed in Tiger’s palms, they weighed him down to the ground. 

Then, Robin smiled. The moment broke. Tiger was holding nothing. 

“I promise I’m not flirting, though. I am—and I know this might be difficult for you to wrap your head around—making friends.”

Tiger pulled out a crossbow and shot the already dead corpse of his credibility a few more times, to be safe. “I saw you and Weasel yesterday in the atrium.”

Robin immediately laughed, which only pissed Tiger off more. 

“Weasel was teaching me how to read palms.”

“Weasel does not know how to read palms.”

“Tiger, dear,” Robin said, his tone honey-sweet, “at least take me to dinner if you’re going to act like this anyway.” 

Tiger glared at him. “I didn’t mean that I wanted you to flirt with me instead.”

Robin threw up his hands. “Oh my god! What else am I supposed to think?”

“That you are my partner, and we are here to hunt,” Tiger growled. He didn’t know what he thought Robin being his partner even entailed. Sometimes it felt like it was everything. But maybe it was just because they were sitting over the gates of hell and Robin was the first and only person Tiger had ever worked beside, barring his sister. And she wasn’t—she wasn’t a part of this. That was another life entirely. In this life, Tiger was seventeen years old and every night he went out to fight the forces of darkness with the same boy at his side. It felt like it should mean something.

Robin rolled his eyes. He let his shoulders drop for a moment. Briefly, Tiger wondered if he was actually upset.

Then, quicksilver, he reached out and put a hand on the back of Tiger’s neck. The other one, he placed on Tiger’s chest. Over his heart.

He moved like lightning. Tiger barely blinked, and then he was pinned.

“Tiger,” Robin said, now looking at Tiger with the full force of his gaze. “I am with you. I am your partner. I hunt beside you.”

Tiger looked at him. Even without Robin’s warm hands holding him in place, Tiger would not look away.

“I am your partner,” he echoed quietly. “I hunt beside you.”

It seemed like that was all there needed to be said.

After a few moments, Robin stepped back. He gave Tiger a wry smile, and then moved to throw his arm around Tiger. It wasn’t the first time they had touched—there was no way it could be—but it felt like it anyway. That was the problem with Robin. He made everything feel like it was something else.

“You know this is just weird flirting, right?” he said as they resumed walking. Tiger sloped his shoulders down so that Robin would be less hindered. “Everybody else is happy with nice, regular flirting, but you need me to recite doctrine to get you going, huh?”

Tiger huffed. “I thought you were just making friends.”

“Green is not a good colour on you.”

Tiger was smiling. He wondered how long he’d been doing that for.

≬

Robin passed over half of his sandwich. 

Tiger took it. With a sigh, he passed Robin the other half of his own sandwich. He’d learnt by now to do it without argument, lest Robin spend the rest of the day moaning about how much he wish he could’ve tried Tiger’s too.

Robin accepted it with a smile. “Thanks,” he said. “You think the grocery store will have rye bread tomorrow?”

“All we can do is hope.”

Robin laughed. Tiger, tragically, smiled in return. 

≬

Beloved partner, I miss you every day. I see you in the sky and in the trees, and when I look upon the cruel faces of the monsters I fight, I do not see their evil, but only see the absence of your kindness. I fear this world has made me colder. Kindness is often the least used weapon in my arsenal, but ever the most important, and the unused knife will always dull. 

When I am with you, I am kind, and when I am without you, I am without anything at all.

See you soon. 

≬

On October the 30th, a night so dark it felt like smoke on the inhale, Robin was slashed across the ribs by a stone gargoyle turned flesh, and then ran through the stomach. 

He made a quiet, distressed gasp as the gargoyle’s tail went through him. This was followed by the gurgle of blood coming up his throat.

Tiger would not forget either of those noises for a long time. He would never forget that tableau.  Robin and the gargoyle wrapped around him, a sculpture intertwined. 

Robin somehow found the wherewithal to scrabble his hands across the gargoyle’s back, and pry off the magic jewel that was animating it.

This was a mistake. With a flash, the gargoyle reverted back to stone around him. 

In that cold embrace, Robin toppled to the ground.

Something came out of his mouth. Blood. More concerning: a cut-off noise resembling a scream. He had never come close to making a sound anything like that before.

Tiger wouldn’t remember it, even later, when pressed, but when Robin hit the ground, he screamed too.

It was very quiet. Tiger ran to Robin, dropped to his knees.

“Robin,” he gasped, and then again, “Robin.”

Whatever Robin tried to say in response was swallowed up by another cough of blood. He tried again: same result. 

“Don't talk,” Tiger hissed. 

Robin’s breathing was laboured. Even without attempting to speak again, more blood came up. His uniform was steadily staining red. Tiger had no idea what to do. He saw no way for him to extricate Robin from the gargoyle without seriously injuring him more. He could maybe break off the end of the gargyole’s tail, and pull Robin off of it, but—

His hands were shaking. He hadn’t even seen how it happened. Robin was one of the best hunters in Sunnydale, which, statistically, probably made him one of the best in the world. He wasn’t invincible, but he was good. He was good. Wasn’t that supposed to be enough?

Robin finally found his voice. “Tiger,” he rasped, blinking slowly. His pupils were blown wide. “The—the tail—”

He broke off into more coughing. He was going into shock. He was losing too much blood. Tiger had to get him to safety now. No way to call an ambulance; he was wrapped around a once-animated gargoyle, and it would probably take too long to get there anyway. He had to do something right now. He had to make a plan.

Tiger breathed in. He breathed out. He was going to deal with this. 

He was going to contact an operator at HQ. He was going to break the tail and pull Robin out. He was going to ignore the nausea. It was going to be fine. 

Your blood is my blood. Your life is my life. My life is for the service of you, and everyone, and the world. The words rang in his head as he worked. Doctrine looped into prayer looped into outright begging, and then he couldn’t tell any of it apart. Your blood is my blood. Your life is my life. You are with them, or you are without anything at all. 

Even when Robin finally got into surgery and Tiger was left in the waiting room, he was running the words through his head. He was covered in blood. His hands were shaking. He didn’t realize it, but he was muttering them under his breath. 

Your blood is my blood. 

≬

He fell asleep in the waiting room chair. He was woken up again by somebody coming in. Two people. 

Eagle, and a dark, imposing man Tiger had never seen before. He had a face like stone. 

Eagle said, “—but he’s stable right now,” and Tiger sat up in his seat, suddenly awake, and desperate to hear any more news. 

This drew both of their attention to him. Hastily, Tiger swung to his feet. His head was pounding. His back hurt like all hell from sleeping in that chair. He wanted to see Robin.

Eagle said, “God’s sake, Tiger, what are you still doing here?” 

The man looked at Tiger for a moment. 

He said, “That’s his partner?” His tone carried nothing, which, in turn, seemed to signify some kind of disapproval.

With a slight grimace, Eagle nodded. She said, “Bat, just—” and then sighed. “Stay here. Be nice. I’m going to talk to the nurse.”

Bat didn’t look away from Tiger. So Tiger didn’t look away from Bat. 

Finally, Bat turned to stare at the door to the emergency ward. Tiger took this to mean he won the staring contest, and took whatever pointless victory in that he could. 

Bat’s brow was pinched. Some of the stone cracked. Underneath, he just looked exhausted. 

“You should go home and get some rest,” he said into the air. He didn’t even look back at Tiger.

Tiger didn’t know this man. He ignored him. 

≬

Eventually, Eagle came back out. Tiger was still in the waiting room. Bat had been standing and contemplating a medical schedule on the wall for the past 5 minutes.

She took one look at the two of them and sighed. “Tiger. Go home. Get cleaned up and get some rest. We will notify you when Robin wakes up.”

When Robin wakes up. A when was better than an if. Tiger took it as the only pitiful, stupid solace he would get. He could ask for more, but there was something about Bat that he didn’t trust. No weakness. Not right now.

Stiffly, Tiger nodded. He got up. He left blood flakes on the chair, but this was the hospital. Probably standard fare, for them.

As he left the room, he heard Eagle say, “Did you even try to talk to him?” and then Bat reply, “How is he?” and then he was out of earshot.

≬

It was typical of Robin to get injured the day before Halloween. Tiger found himself with nothing to do at all the next night. Not even recon to distract him. When he walked into Eagle’s office to request some paperwork to occupy his mind before he went crazy, she took one look at him and told him to get out.

Take the night off, Tiger. Go do something fun. Watch a movie.

Tiger didn’t want to watch a movie. He and Robin were partway through the Star Wars trilogy; he couldn’t just watch the next one alone.

Tiger had not realized how much he thought about Robin during his days. Normally, it made sense, since Robin was always there, but now he was alone and he still couldn't turn his thoughts away. His partner, and the hunt. Was that all there was?

That night, Tiger set out to make dinner for himself. Within five minutes of him being in the kitchen, another hunter walked in.

Fox. His long hair was down, and he was out of uniform. He had probably come to make his own dinner. 

“Tiger,” he greeted. He gave Tiger a kind, knowing smile. It stung to see. “What are you making?”

“Biryani.”

Fox came closer. “Ooh, yum!” Peering into the pot, he sighed theatrically. “Dragon is off having dinner with his brother tonight, so I have to fend for myself.” 

It was the most obvious bait in the world, but it was a kindness. The unused knife dulls. Tiger lowered the flame a little. Breathed in. Said, “If you’d like, you can have some.”

Biryani was impossible to make just one serving of. In some faraway, nonsensical dark corner of Tiger’s mind, he’d had the idea to—to save some, and bring it in to Robin. While he was in hospital. Recovering from surgery. His sanity had to be unravelling. 

Fox smiled at him warmly. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love that.”

Tiger nodded, and missed Robin ferociously.

≬

It felt like an eternity had passed when Tiger finally laid eyes on Robin again. Two days. He was perhaps overly attached. Then again, he'd gotten stabbed on Tiger's watch. Of course Tiger had felt the absence keenly. His partner, and his fault.

Robin was sitting up in bed. Even pale and smudged, he was still the only spot of colour in the hospital room. 

“Tiger,” Robin said. “Gosh, you're a sight for sore eyes.”

Tiger stared at him. 

There was an intricate symbol over Robin’s right eye. Almost like a sun. Tightly-packed lines of symbols spreading outwards across his face.

Tiger could recognize it for what it was. A fairly common healing spell. Pain relief. Energy replenishment. Regeneration. Somebody had snuck in a twine of sleep into one of the branches—so Robin was still having problems with his sleep. Everything inked clearly on his face.

Tiger had never seen anybody with such a visible sorcerer’s mark. 

The sorcerer’s mark was easiest place on the body to channel magic into. Everybody had a different one. Tiger’s was on his lower abdomen; him and most of the population. It was rare to have a mark that wasn’t on the torso, and even rarer to have one on your face. Over your eye. Tiger couldn’t look away.

Robin grinned at him tiredly. “Yeah, I know. Looks pretty stupid, huh?”

Tiger took the seat next to Robin’s bedside and, after a moment of hesitation, reached out his hand towards Robin's face. He hovered, silently asking permission. Robin acquiesced with ease. 

“No more than usual,” Tiger replied, distracted. He ran his fingers around the perimeter of the spell and felt it pulsing underneath his touch. Doing its job. A sign of life.

Robin raised his eyebrows. “Is that you saying I don’t look stupid, or that I look this stupid all the time?”

It was good to see him awake and speaking. If Tiger didn’t consider their surroundings or the hospital gown or the coils of magic under his fingers, it could’ve been an ordinary day. 

“Latter.” 

Robin laughed, and then winced, and then laughed again. He made everything such a production. Tiger couldn't look away. Was it really possible that he had never realised how much life Robin put into himself until now? 

“Thought so. Ah, I’ve missed you. The only person I’ve had to talk to for the past day has been Br—uh, Bat. I don’t know if you met him.”

“We met briefly.” He paused, then said, “He told me to go home, and I didn’t listen.”

Robin smiled with force. “Good. Well, you probably should've gone home, but good. Bat is my mentor. Direct commander, I guess, if we’re talking in Hunter terms. He took me in and raised me when I was younger.” He gave Tiger a conspiratorial look. “Absolute stick in the mud, when it comes to things like this.”

“You were run through the abdomen.” A stick in the mud was one thing. Tiger thought he had turned into a concrete slab stuck on the ocean floor.

Robin gasped. “Really? Where?”

Tiger glared at him, and was treated again to his laugh-wince-laugh-again routine. 

Taking somebody in and raising them didn’t particularly fall under the duty of mentor or direct commander. Neither did flying across the country to visit upon hearing Robin was injured. There was more to this story, but if Robin wouldn't tell, Tiger wasn't going to ask.

He looked at Robin. He’d been looking at Robin constantly over the past three months, but today, it felt different. Today, he was different. Nothing was ever the same. 

He said, “Robin.”

Robin looked back. “Tiger.”

Tiger breathed in, thinking about that terrible gasp when the tail had gone through Robin. 

“Your blood is my blood,” he said quietly. He touched Robin's hand. Gentler than he thought he could be. “Your life is my life.”

Robin looked back at him with the world in his eyes. 

“Your blood is my blood,” he replied. He turned his hand over, and interlaced their fingers. Tiger was on fire. He hoped the stars were looking down on him as he was burning up; he hoped they burned themselves, in envy.

Then Robin ruined the moment by going, “I really don't have any to spare right now though.”

Tiger laughed, because that was the only thing to do in the face of Robin, lively, insolent, lovely. Tiger should've ripped apart that gargoyle with his bare hands. Tiger should've jumped in front of it. 

≬

When Robin fell back asleep, Tiger read his medical file. He knew he wasn't supposed to do this. He didn't care.

The assessment of the injury and surgery he knew already. There were some notes on past injuries: scarring along his back, around his neck; a knee that clicked and fingers that didn't quite close properly; a shoulder reconstruction.

And then, what Tiger had been looking for from the start, and what he had avoided looking at until now.

Dick Grayson.

It was never going to be the same again.

≬

Dick woke up. Tiger helped him sit up and said, “Do you need painkillers?”

Dick grimaced for a moment, then said no. Dick Grayson. It was intoxicating to even think his name.

“Are you of sound mind right now?” Tiger asked.

Dick raised his eyebrows. “A little sleepy, but yeah, sure, why?”

It was never going to be the same again. Tiger leaned forward and told Dick his real name, and then kissed him.

≬

“Am I pronouncing it right?” Dick asked.

Tiger shook his head, smiling. “No, like this,” and then he sounded out the syllables of his name again. 

Dick repeated them steadily. Then again. And again. Again. When Tiger raised his eyebrows and asked, “What?” he just grinned.

“Just nice to say it,” he said, face rosy and completely unapologetic. “I think you should kiss me again.”

Tiger had known this was going to be a headache all along. Dick Grayson was sharp and demanding and had some kind of weightlessness to him, some kind of anti-gravity that pushed him to go up and up and drag the world along with him. Sometimes it was thrilling. Sometimes it was exhausting.

Tiger kissed him. He'd go with. He couldn't imagine doing anything else.

When they separated, Dick said, “You were jealous. And that was weird flirting.”

Tiger said, “You know, you were the one to start quoting doctrine at me that night we met.” 

Immediate backfire. Dick raised his eyebrows. “So you're saying you liked me from that very first night?” He was blushing prettily all over, which detracted from the teasing some. “It was love at first doctrine, wasn't it? Who knew the dark and mysterious Tiger was such a romantic?”

What a headache. Tiger kissed him again to stop any further discussion.

≬

Lately, every night is a battle, and every battle is the hardest one I've faced; as are all of them, without you by my side. Still. I think of you and I stay steady. You keep me kind, my dearest. I will not let this world turn us to ice. I will not let it turn us to dust. The world will make a tragedy of us at any moment it can. Let us fight it anyway.

Let the stars look upon us in our glory and our tragedy and envy the way we burn. And when we meet again, our combined light will be bright enough to blot out the darkness forever.

All my love. See you soon.

≬

Door slam. Tiger froze in the corridor, high alert, as somebody stalked out of Robin's hospital room. 

It was Bat. Followed by a harried nurse.

She said, “—a medical establishment, there's no tolerance for acting like this, especially towards your son—”

Bat cut in with, “He's not my son.” There was naked pain on his face. Tiger got the impression that this was the kind of face that was unused to wearing its emotions nakedly; it seemed to sit ill on his features, like a badly-fitted mask. 

The nurse remained firm. “Regardless, Mr. Wayne. He's in recovery. There's no need to cause him undue emotional stress.”

Bat looked back towards the door. The nurse placed a hand on his forearm, both sympathetic and cautioning.

After a moment, Bat turned away. He said, “You're right. I apologise for my conduct, Nurse Wen. I—I'll take my leave now.”

He turned around and strode down the hallway. Tiger recognised it as running away. When he caught sight of Tiger standing there, they made brief eye contact. Whatever Tiger had gleaned about the situation so far didn't make him feel inclined to be nice, and he let that show on his face; Bat’s expression shuttered in response. He walked past Tiger without a word.

Nurse Wen caught sight of him, and her expression softened a bit. Tiger was familiar to most of the nurses working this ward now. 

She said, “Tensions got a little high and they had an argument. Dick might be a little upset, but I think he'd like to see you.”

Tiger nodded. If Robin didn't want to see him, Tiger would leave. He wasn't interested in becoming the kind of person who argued with him while he was fucking hospitalized. 

Gently, he pushed the door open. Robin's head snapped up upon hearing the sound, but as soon as he saw Tiger, all the hostility drained out of his expression.

“Tiger,” he sighed. He gave him a weak smile. “Hi.”

For a long moment, Tiger looked at him. Robin—Dick Grayson—and his moonlight smile, waxing and waning, reflecting the light around him. Tiger knew that there were probably a million things lurking underneath his surface. Even Tiger had his secrets. But still. Your blood is my blood. Maybe it didn't have to matter.

He said, “Weasel thinks I need to start cooking breakfast for everyone, because I'm your partner and I need to pick up your slack.”

Robin started laughing. He could do it without wincing now. 

“Weasel can definitely make his own breakfast,” Robin said, which was exactly what Tiger had told the boy. “But it is nice. The breakfasts. I think you should.”

Tiger sighed. He had suspected that this would've been Robin's answer. 

“Maybe,” he allowed. 

Robin mused, “Though I guess you do have a very busy morning schedule.”

Tiger didn't tell Robin that since he had gone and gotten stabbed, none of Tiger's careful routines—outside of praying—really seemed to matter anymore. He had to know already. Tiger spent most of his mornings before school and afternoons before hunting in this hospital room. Every free moment he got. But Robin didn't ask, so Tiger didn't tell him.

≬

As soon as he was able to walk, Robin tried very hard to convince everybody that he was fine to get onto the field, even though he was only at the level of hobbling around his hospital room. To his credit, his recovery was fast: he took well to the healing magic and seemed to have an endless amount of energy for his exercises and physical recuperation. This didn't really convince anybody—even Tiger—that he was anywhere near field ready. 

“Come on, Tiger, the faster I get cleared the faster you can go back to patrol. Don't you miss patrol?”

Tiger missed it like he missed Robin, like he would miss the sun if it never rose again. He replied, “You better focus on getting better and not disobeying your doctor, then.”

Robin turned big blue eyes on Tiger. “Don't you miss hunting together?” the manipulative bastard asked softly.

Tiger looked down at the sudoku book he was working through. “Do you think I'm stupid?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Robin said, the pitiful kicked-puppy look entirely absent now. He was smiling. “I think when it comes to me, you're the easiest boy on the planet, Tiger.”

Tiger didn't deny or confirm the statement. He continued his sudoku and Robin grinned to himself, pleased at whatever answer he had intuited from Tiger's silence.

Eventually, Tiger said, “Don’t hurt yourself any more, Dick. The first time was bad enough.”

He didn't look up for a few heartbeats. Already knowing what he would see, and desperately wanting to avoid it. It didn't matter. He saw it anyway. When he turned his gaze, Robin was looking at him, sad and sweet and endless. It was a look that said, my blood is your blood, my life is your life; my life is in your hands, my blood drains when yours does. It was how Tiger looked at Dick, and it was somehow terrifying to have it reflected back so clearly.

Robin closed his eyes. Whispered, “Okay. Okay.” 

Tiger was stupid enough to believe him. 

≬

And so one night, out of everybody’s sight, Dick Grayson stood up. He pulled up the window of his hospital room and slipped outside. With a spell around his eye and a hole in his abdomen and his wounds barely scabbed over, he made his way into the unforgiving darkness of Sunnydale.

Tiger didn't know who was more idiotic in this situation. Him, for deciding out of nowhere to take the night off to visit Robin, flowers and chocolate in tow because Robin was a romantic and a believer and Tiger wanted him to smile always; or Robin, who was sneaking out of hospital after major surgery for some goddamn reason that better be good.  

Hospital visiting hours were over. Tiger had been planning to sneak in through that very window. 

He followed, obviously. He didn't call out. He didn't fall in beside him. He didn't pick Robin up and carry him back to the hospital. Any of these would've been better to do, but here was the truth: the secrets did matter. Tiger had been kidding himself to ever think they didn't. The secrets mattered, and there was one at the end of this night. Tiger knew it, and so he followed.

Robin moved better than his condition in the hospital had betrayed. Tiger could tell from the unsteadiness of his breath and his faltered movements that it still hurt, and this was almost enough to convince Tiger to step out of the shadows to tell him to get back to bed right fucking now, but—

He was moving much better than his condition in the hospital had betrayed. So either he was hiding it very well now, or he had been lying then. If he had been lying then, then he’d been planning this. 

Tiger thought nothing of this. He couldn’t. He silenced his heart, his lungs; shut down his blood and his bones, until there was nothing but the cold thread of logic to guide him. This was recon. No expectations, no judgements. He was here to gather information, and find the way forward.

They went to the outskirts of town. All the way to a quiet, unassuming apartment building. One set of stairs. Robin stopped at the base of them and, before he made his way up, gently pressed a hand to his abdomen and squeezed his eyes tight. The spell around his eye seemed to pulse. It could’ve been a trick of the light. Tiger knew it wasn’t. Spells like that were set in stone, inked into the very skin of the recipient, but nothing about Robin was set in stone.

Robin made his way up the stairs. Tiger slipped underneath the staircase, listening to his usually imperceptible footsteps.

He made his way down the balcony. Underneath, Tiger followed. Stopped when he stopped. Listened to the knock on the door. A curious, arrhythmic knock: a pre-determined one.

A long quiet dragged out before the door opened. With it fled all the silence and the sense in the world.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” somebody said. “I thought you gave up on me, and I could finally have some fucking peace around here.”

“You know me better than that,” Robin said.

There was a silence that, if pressed, Tiger might’ve described as resentful.

A sigh. “So what? Is that a healing spell or have you just gotten into avant-garde makeup? Your shiny new partner not watching your back properly?”

Tiger was cold-water shocked by how much that hurt.

Robin snapped, “Don’t talk about him like that. God, Jason, just—” A pause. A rallying. Robin said, his tone now flat and serene, “I’m sorry I disappeared.” 

“Don’t be, I was really enjoying it.”

“I came as soon as I was able.” 

“You really didn’t have to.”

A sigh. This time from Robin. The sad, frustrated little sigh he gave when he realized he couldn’t save everybody. He realized this both far more and far less than a Hunter should.

“Jason,” he said. “I’m tired. Can I please just come in?”

Robin had never told Tiger he was tired before. Tiger always knew, but—it still hurt. This surprised him too; how much it still fucking hurt.

“Fine. Get in. You look like shit.”

Robin laughed weakly. “Thanks, Jay. I was run through the stomach,” he said, and then the door closed.

Tiger crept up the stairs and approached the door. He crouched down and put his ear to it. 

“—have any snacks or tea, because I don’t eat, but I can offer some, uh,” —some rustling— “two year expired cup noodles.”

“I’m good,” Robin said, and then, “How have you been feeding?”

The other one—Jason—laughed. “You cannot give it up for one fucking second, can you?”

“Well,” Robin replied coldly, “it’s kinda the reason I’m here in the first place.”

“Because you’re fucking delusional about playing big brother to somebody who doesn’t exist anymore?” Jason said meanly. “I’m a big boy now, Dick. I can take care of myself.”

“And what does that entail?”

Jason laughed bitterly. “What the fuck do you think it entails? You know! I can’t stand it when you act all fucking coy about me being—”

His voice iced over in fury—Tiger had never heard him like this, always knew he had it in him but he’d never heard it— Dick cut him off with, “Jason, you know that’s dangerous! You know they’re going to come after you! I can only keep you safe if you let me keep you safe and—” 

“—and blah blah blah, Dick Grayson, the saviour of everybody, with his perfect life and perfect partner and perfect tragic backstory. You want to be the hero so bad, but I told you already, jackass: I don’t fucking need you to take care of me. If they come after me, let them.” 

“Let me remind you, I had to save you from getting killed the very first night I was here.” Tiger could basically hear Dick rolling his eyes. 

Jason made a high, incredulous scoff. “Because you fucking injured me!”

“You were about to kill somebody!”

“Yeah!” Jason yelled. “I am a vampire! That is what I fucking do!”

Tiger kicked the door open with his crossbow drawn.

Inside the apartment, Dick and Hostile 816 were facing down in the living room. Both of them whipped around to face Tiger. Dick drew his weapons. Hostile 816’s face snarled into vampire form.

Then they realized exactly who had just burst in.

“Tiger,” Dick said, his voice quiet. “Shit.”

He put his eskrima away. Tiger wished he would keep them drawn.

Hostile 816 looked between the two of them and laughed meanly. Looking at him this close, it was clear to see that he was young. Or had been young, when he was killed. No wonder Dick was unable to let go. 

Tiger hadn’t known Dick had a younger brother. Then again, Dick didn’t know about Tiger’s younger sister either. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now, Dickie” Hostile 816 said, stepping back and grinning. “I can’t wait to see you try to talk your way out of this one.” 

“Shut up,” Dick and Tiger snapped at him at the same time.

“Wow, that was adorable. Do you guys practice that?”

Tiger made the decision to ignore him at the same time Dick did. They turned to each other.

“Tiger,” Dick said, gentle, coaxing, “please drop the crossbow.”

“Step away from the vampire, Robin,” Tiger said quietly. He wasn’t betrayed. It was easy to get caught up in a vampire’s illusion; that was what made them so dangerous. Demons wearing the faces of your loved ones. Tiger knew all too well how easy it was.

Dick sighed. “Right,” he said, “I haven’t introduced you yet. Tiger, this is Jason, my brother. Jason, this is Tiger. My partner.”

“He’s not your brother anymore, Robin,” Tiger said. He had to remain calm. He kept his eyes on Hostile 816 and his crossbow aimed at his heart. He could shoot now, but Hostile 816 would easily dodge, and then it’d devolve into a confrontation. Robin was still injured. Tiger needed to get him out first. 

“Hey man, that’s what I keep trying to tell him,” said the vampire. “The stubborn idiot just won’t listen to reason.”

Tiger’s finger twitched on the trigger. “Keep him out of your mouth, demon. You’ve hurt him enough.”

Something flashed in Hostile 816’s eyes at that.

“Okay, how about we stop talking about me like I’m not right here,” Dick said. He stepped forward, putting himself between Tiger and the vampire a little more. Tiger didn’t know who he was trying to protect. Knowing him, both of them. Stubborn idiot.

Tiger said again, a little firmer, “Robin, get back. You’re injured, and you’re not thinking straight.”

“I am fine, and I know what I’m doing.”

The vampire said, “He's not fine, he just told me he got stabbed through the stomach. In case you didn’t know.” 

“I know,” Tiger snarled.

“Ooh, touchy topic, alright.”

Tiger breathed in, and briefly looked at Dick. He was looking at Tiger.

Tiger said, one last time, more of a plea than anything, “Robin, get behind me. I will deal with this. I know he looks like your brother, but he’s not anymore. This is how vampires work. This is how they get you. You know this.”

Robin’s beautiful face remained unchanged, implacable.

He said, “Jason isn’t like the other vampires.”

“Hey!” Hostile 816 protested. “I could definitely be like the other vampires if I wanted to. You don't own me.”

“All of them say that,” Tiger replied, ignoring the vampire completely. He hated the annoying ones. “This is exactly how they operate. You know this.”

Robin caught Tiger’s gaze. For a moment, they looked at each other. 

He murmured, “Tiger, trust me. Please.”

For all that time spent looking at him, the days and weeks and months unravelling like string on a spool, Tiger didn’t know if he’d ever seen Robin properly. He didn’t know if he was seeing him properly now. 

The secrets mattered. They undeniably mattered.

Did they matter more than whatever Tiger saw on Robin’s face right now?

≬

Tiger took his finger off the trigger, and lowered his crossbow.

Robin’s shoulders sloped in relief. 

“Thanks, Tiger,” he said. Then, he turned around to the vampire.

Hostile 816 watched this happen with something like sorrow in his eyes. A dark, resentful sorrow.

“Jason,” Robin said.

The vampire spit, “Seriously, how do you do this, every fucking time? How do you always get everybody to believe you? How is everyone always on your side?”

He was very fucking ungrateful for somebody who was only remaining undead at the mercy of Robin’s good word.

“Jason,” Robin said again, tired, “this doesn’t have to be a fight.”

“There is that whole thing where you’re a demon hunter and I’m a demon, but yeah, sure, alright.” 

“That doesn’t matter to me, Jay,” Robin said. Tiger was having mild difficulty processing the fact that his partner was a little delusional, but he tried his best. 

“It matters to me!” Hostile 816 hissed. “I’m dead! I’m not human anymore! Just because I had the bad fucking luck to not get the nice vampire apathy that would’ve let me murder whoever I want in bliss doesn’t mean I’m not one! All it means is that I can’t pretend to be human, and I fucking suck at being a monster!”

Robin let all of this wash over him steadily. He said, “There might be a way. I talked to Bat last we—”

“Bruce was here?” Hostile 816 interrupted. There was something truly ugly in his tone. Grief, Tiger realized.

Robin blinked. “I—yeah. He was here for a few days.”

“While you were in hospital?”

“...Yeah. He, um, he said—”

“Does he know where I’m living?”

Robin paused. “I—” he started, and after Hostile 816 hissed don’t lie to me, he said gently, “Yeah. He pays for it.”

Hostile 816 stared at the ground. Robin stared at him, helpless. 

Then, he punched Robin in the face.

“I fucking hate you ,” he screamed. “No matter what I did, I could never live up to you, and now I’m dead and he’ll never care about me again!”

He reared back to punch Robin again.

Here was the problem: Tiger knew, like he knew anything, like he knew how to breathe and blink, that Robin was not going to fight back. He knew that Robin would never forgive him if he killed Jason right now. He knew that this was never, ever going to get fixed, because that was the nature of demons: they stole the dead and destroyed the living.

Tiger raised up his crossbow and took aim. Not for the heart. He went for Jason’s shoulder. Something he couldn’t easily brush off, but wouldn’t be fatal. 

Here was the problem: Tiger trusted Dick. Of all the terrible things he could do, he trusted Dick. He trusted him enough to stay his weapon before, and be careful with it now; he trusted him enough to value this fucking vampire, because he mattered to Dick. 

Here was the problem: Tiger thought that Dick trusted him too.

He aimed with all the precision his years of training could offer him, and when he pulled the trigger, he knew that it was flying true. A hit to the shoulder. Nothing so dangerous. Nothing so simple.

Dick heard the crossbow pull. He turned around with true, genuine fear in his eyes, and he jumped in front of the bolt.

It buried itself in the back of his chest. 

Again, that sound that would haunt Tiger forever: that small, devastated gasp. 

Dick fell forward onto Jason. Under his weight, Jason buckled to the ground. 

“Dick?” he yelled. He looked at Tiger. His face had fallen out of vampirism. It was a child’s face now. Terrified. “What the fuck did you do?”

Tiger felt ill. He dropped his crossbow. “I—I was aiming for you—I didn’t—”

“You didn’t think he would obviously take the hit if you tried to kill me?” 

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, I was trying to distract you—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Tiger dropped to his knees next to where Jason was sitting, struggling to support Dick. He said, “Robin. Dick. I’m sorry, I didn’t—I’m sorry, Dick, I’m sorry,”

Dick pushed himself off of Jason. Tiger caught him under his shoulders, and felt the blood soaking through his clothing and onto his hands already.

“Tiger,” Dick breathed. His pupils were wide. The spell had grown to cover almost half of his face. It was mutating. All of that extra stimuli and pain. Shit. This was bad.

“Tiger,” he said again.

Tiger said, “Dick, tell me what to do, I’m sorry, tell me how to help,”

Dick coughed up some blood. He’d probably torn his stitches too. The spell writhed across his features.

He reached a hand up to cup Tiger’s face, and said, “Tiger, come here.” He barely mustered the words.

Tiger leaned in closer.

His voice barely above a whisper, Robin said, “If you tell anybody about Jason, I’m going to go to HQ and tell them that you shot me.” 

His face was terribly unkind. His eyes were empty. 

“I’m going to say that we were engaged in combat with Hostile 816 and were irresponsible and reckless, and made decisions in a vacuum, and wanted all the glory, so you took a risky shot and got me instead. I’m fucking serious, if you don’t forget you ever saw any of this, I’m going to make sure you never fucking hunt again. I’ll never forgive you, Tiger.” 

All he had needed to say was that last part. Tiger would’ve done anything after hearing that. He didn’t need to break Tiger’s heart first.

Robin let Tiger go. He turned to Jason. There was a haziness in his every movement.

“Jason, get out of here. Disappear. I will come and find you later, once I deal with this.”

“Are you insane? He just shot you,” Jason hissed, “I’m not fucking leaving you with him!”

Robin smiled. “He won’t hurt me,” he said. Tiger had never heard anything more cruel. “It’s okay. Go.”

A wide-eyed child, Jason took one last look at Tiger. He growled, “If he dies, I am going to turn you.”

Then he bolted.

All of the fight left Robin’s body. His shoulders sank, and he closed his eyes unsteadily.

“I snuck out of my hospital room and found you because I wanted to patrol,” he said, his voice taking on a relentless dreaminess. “Hostile 816 found us. I was injured. I wasn’t near ready to be on the field. You had to take care of yourself and me, and it took advantage of that and stole your crossbow and shot me. It was my fault. It’s all my fault.” He looked up at Tiger with his tired, tired, tired gaze. “Got it?”

Tiger nodded. Physically, there was no way he could’ve said no to Robin right now.

Robin closed his eyes again. It took him a long time to open them again.

Finally, he whispered, “Tiger, take me home?”

There was nothing else to do. Tiger nodded again. He picked Robin up with his bloodied hands. He wondered what it would be like, if he wrapped them around Robin’s neck. 

He carried Robin home.

≬

Tiger stood in Eagle’s office and told her that he wanted to break his partnership with Robin and transfer out of Sunnydale. Somewhere far. As far as he could possibly go. He’d been running the words through his head all night. They barely sounded real anymore.

She gave him a searching look. “Tiger, are you sure?” she asked. She probably suspected that there was more going on. Robin’s cover story was only enough to paper over the blood, give them some kind of plausible deniability. 

Tiger said, just like he’d trained himself to, “I never want to see him again.” He would eventually train himself to believe it. Eventually.

Eagle sighed. 

“Alright. I’ll make the arrangements as soon as I can.”

The next day, Tiger was on a plane. He didn’t say goodbye. The last he ever saw of Robin was his pale, haunted face, half-unconscious as Tiger carried him home. He’d had his head turned into Tiger’s shoulder, and had been muttering something under his breath the whole time.

≬

Beloved partner, how I wish I could lie down beside you in that grave. 

How I wish it was that easy, but it never is. Your blood is my blood. Your life is my life. I am the last living part of you. If I die, then you are truly gone. Your blood is my blood, beloved. I cannot spill it.

Leaving me here was the first unkind thing you ever did. I don't think I'll ever forgive you. 

Wait for me to come home.

≬≬≬