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Wally was in Central City when it happened. Ever since Barry had been killed, he’d been overworking himself, moving between Central and Keystone city, occasionally stopping by the Titans, and generally trying to handle his life while dealing with his grief.
All in all… chaos had been the defending force of his life recently. Which is why, although he was somewhat aware of the ongoing crisis, he hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten until it was too late.
He saw it first on the news. Images of Superman bombing the capital, hero’s lighting forest fires and setting cities ablaze, covering the sky in a horrifying mix of dark smoke and ash.
It didn’t take long for the hazy darkness to reach the blue skies of his twin cities. Wally tried to stop as much of the mounting chaos as he could, brought out by turned citizens, or occasionally people who were rioting in rage and fear. Unfortunately by nightfall, most streets had become home to fires, shops either destroyed or boarded up, people huddling indoors for shelter, or gathered in groups around the city yelling, “The end is nigh!”
Buildings belonging to bigger, more powerful corporations had been damaged the worst. Notably, Star Labs had practically been torn to the ground.
Wally hadn't heard from anyone on the League or with the Titan’s, didn’t know who was dead or turned other than those captured by the news cameras. He really should have been more concerned about it if not for the fact that he was otherwise so busy.
The com unit in his ear buzzes when he’s in the middle of helping two citizens get somewhere safe after tying up the vampire which had been attacking them. He knows they are technically already dead, undead, whatever, but Wally still can’t bring himself to put them down.
They’d been human once, after all, and it's not like most of them had a choice in what happened to them.
He can hear someone calling for him through the com unit, using his actual name, not his alias, but the connection is heavy with static and unstable, so he can’t tell who the voice belongs to. He finishes getting the two people settled and then runs outside, moving around until he finds a location where the connection is strongest.
“-lly? Wally, please respond, are you there?”
“Dick!” He replies immediately, relieved. “I’m here, I’m okay, what about you?”
“I…” Dick’s voice trails off, subdued. When he speaks again, it's without acknowledging the speedsters question. “Are you still in Central City?”
“Yeah, I am, but Dick…” he says, voice becoming focused. “Do you know what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’ll explain when I get there, okay?” He says hastily.
“Wait, you're coming here ? To Central City? Are you sure that’s safe? What about-”
The line cuts and Wally curses lightly, dread pooling in his stomach. If Dick was coming here… he’d made it sound like he was alone, which meant that most of his family was either dead, or worse, turned. There was a very little chance he’d just leave them alone under these circumstances, especially as Wally wasn’t in any life threatening danger.
He takes a moment to breathe, trying to calm his racing nerves. He has no idea when Dick would get to the city, but seeing as he was all the way in Gotham—Blüdhaven?—it probably won't be for a while longer, so for now he’ll just have to wait until he hears back from him.
Eventually, when the sun is hazily peeking up over the horizon, trying to make itself visible through the smoke and ash, Wally decides to head back to his apartment. He would have liked to stay out longer, but he’s already done as much as it feels like he can do to help, and he’s exhausted, having worked through the night until he was basically running on fumes. He just wanted some things to eat, a shower, maybe a short nap as he continued to wait and hear from Dick before heading out again.
When he opens the door to his apartment in Keystone City, he flicks on one of the lights and makes his way sluggishly towards the kitchen, pulling his mask off as he does. He grabs a few power bars from the cuberts and a glass of water from the fridge. It's only when he closes the heavy door that he notices the silhouette of a person sitting at his dining room table.
Wally yelps in shock, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sight. He must be even more tired than he thought to not have noticed them.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the figure says. They rise from their seat and Wally immediately recognises it to be Dick, first from the sound of his voice, followed by his figure.
He’s slightly obscured by shadows, the only light filtering into the dining room coming from the kitchen. Dick is still in his Nightwing suit, the black and blue catching in the dim light as well as some splotches of… red.
It takes Wally’s exhausted brain a long moment to realize what it is. He first takes in the way it looks to be hastily scrubbed away in some places and dried in others before his thoughts slowly edge into panic mode.
“Holy shit Dick, are you okay?!” He yelps, frantically. He runs over to Dick as the man lifts his arms in response and takes a small step back.
“I’m fine,” he says, then noticing what Wally’s eyes have caught on, hesitantly adds, “It’s not mine.”
“It’s not…” he almost relaxes before his concerns from earlier in the evening resurface. “If it’s not yours, then does that mean that your family…”
“They're dead. Well, most of them, at least…” he chuckles lightly to himself. “Those that aren’t unfortunately hate me now.”
“Were they…” Wally swallows, taking a cautious step forward and reaching his hand out towards Dick’s arm, “did they get turned?”
He hums noncommittally, reaching out his own hand and intertwining his fingers with Wally’s before it could grab his shoulder. “Not exactly, no.”
“Than wha-”
“Shh,” Dick cuts him off, lifting a gloved finger to his lips. “I don’t wanna talk about them right now. I’d rather just… be with you, while we still can.”
Wally hesitates a moment, staring into the white lenses that cover Dick’s dazzling blue eyes. Then, hesitantly untwining their fingers, he wraps his arms around Dicks torso in a hug and says, “Okay.”
He feels Dick respond with a hug of his own, arms placed just above Wally's hips, carefully nuzzling his face into the crook of Wally’s neck.
They stay like that for a few minutes, cradled around each other, Dick so still Wally could almost think the man to be dead.
“Maybe we should move you to the bed,” he says after a moment, hesitantly breaking the silence which had fallen upon them.
Dick hums in response, nuzzling his face further into Wally’s neck, almost catlike, before stepping back. He nods, subdued, which causes his messy black hair to fall ‘neatly’ around his eyes. It’s like he’s broken from a trance.
“That sounds good,” he says.
They make their way through the apartment to his bedroom, Dick grabbing his hand again and Wally not resisting the contact. It was… nice. The past few weeks had been busy, stressful, pressure mounting until last night when everything had broken out into overwhelming chaos. He didn’t mind indulging for a bit.
When he reaches the bedroom, Wally stops and turns to Dick, once again noticing his tattered, dirty uniform.
“I should find you a change of clothes…” he says awkwardly, moving to pull his hand out of Dicks and step away.
Dick hesitates a moment, hand still holding his intently, as he stares at Wally. He eventually lets go when the speedster clears his throat and shifts awkwardly.
“Sorry,” Dick says, averting his gaze, “I’ve just been a little… distracted.”
“Are you… sure you're holding up okay?”
“Honestly?” Dick begins, reaching up and slowly removing his mask, “I feel better than I have in a long time.”
He smiles at Wally, a full on grin, and this time he was able to notice something dark and menacing in eyes that were usually so bright and kind. There’s something about the way they gleam in the darkness that sets Wally’s instinctual fear on edge, and he subconsciously takes a small step back.
Dick tilts his head slightly to the side, and if his vision could be trusted right now, Wally would swear he sees a sharp tooth peak over his lip for a second before it's gone.
“Wally? Wal? Up here,” Dick gestures with his hand to his eyes. He looks a little sheepish, when next he speaks. “I’ve been meaning to… talk to you for a while. But I had to get certain things organized first. Planning an ‘apocalypse’ is harder than one may think.”
An… oh. Wally freezes.
Things start to slot into place, painfully, excruciatingly slow.
Dick’s strange behavior, his deflectiveness around certain questions, but, more than anything… the fact that the vampires succeeded.
Because of course no one other than Dick Grayson would be able to pull this off. Not with the quick, unexpected ease that had set the world ablaze. There was no one so tightly-knit and trusted in the hero community than Nightwing himself. One of the few, if not only, people who could outsmart the great detective Batman right under his very nose.
“Y… you… did all of this?” Wally stammers, stunned, like the answer isn’t already obvious.
“Yeah. Impressive, isn't it? But I guess that’s what it's like when you have all the power of a king,” Dick has stepped close, and moves his hand up to cup Wally’s cheek. “How I want you to share it with me. It’s quite wonderful.”
“But…” Wally's mind fumbles, pieces of the puzzle shoving themselves together into some sort of fractured understanding. “You won't, will you? You had… that’s why Barry was killed. Because us speedsters, our metabolism is too high. We’d… we’d… oh god.”
He felt sick. Dick had killed Barry . His best friend had ordered the death of his own mentor, his…
“You’re right about Barry,” Dick says, gripping Wally’s chin harder so he’s forced to look into his eyes. They shine a faint red. “But I don’t want to kill you. Yes, your metabolism is faster than normal vampires and you do require more blood, but… we can make an exception for at least one speedster. Barry died so you could live, forever.”
Wally isn’t sure if it's from the shock, his exhaustion finally catching up to him, or—more likely—a mix of them both, but his knees give out and he sinks to the floor.
His vision swims and he looks down. He doesn’t understand. Why? Why is it Dick? Why does the one who ended the world, who had Barry killed , have to be the person that he… that Wally…
Hands come up to cup the side of his face again, brushing away tears he didn’t realize were falling.
“I’m sorry. I know this is probably a lot and it may be too much to ask of you but… trust me? Please? You’ll see, when I turn you. This is the way it had to be.” Dick is kneeling in front of him, and when Wally looks him in the eyes, he sees nothing but sincerity.
As he hesitates, staring at him, arms begin snaking their way over his shoulders, hands tangling into his hair.
His body won’t move, for once in his life his legs are still, even if his heart beats faster than ever.
The arms that hold him have no warmth, fingers combing through his hair cold, lifeless. Dick is dead . But Wally is tired of those closest to him dying. He’s so tired of saying goodbye.
A cold trail across his cheek, and one of the hands in his hair moves to his face, wiping it away.
The corpse's face moves closer. Its bright eyes are solid, determined.
Wally’s never felt so weak.
His head lolls forward against a still chest. It’s not defeat, but he can’t fight, not against Dick. He just needs to breathe.
Pulled closer and closer, lips brush against his ear.
“You know why I’m doing this, right?” Dick whispers, words sending a chill down Wally's spine. He shakes his head once, movement jerky.
His throat is too dry to speak.
“I need you. I’ve always… needed you.” A beat, followed by a heavy breath. “I love you, Wally.”
There’s movement, faster than a normal human could track, and suddenly the lips once teasing his ear are pressed against his throat.
Wally's heart is beating faster now, but the arms are wrapped around him like chains, keeping him trapped, helpless.
Something sharp presses at his neck, cold tip skimming across its surface, looking for an exposed vein above the kevlar. It finds it, stops, where the pulsing of his heart is beating frantically in his throat.
It pushes down, effortlessly breaking the skin. It stays still, negating Wally’s healing factor, as the vampire begins to drink.
Blood leaves his body in waves, not a drop escaping the vampire's lips. He feels faint as he falls into a daze, but remains on the edge of consciousness. It’s not Dicks intent to kill.
After seconds, minutes, perhaps longer has passed, does he finally pull away. Wally follows him, slumped further into the crook of his shoulder, body against his chest.
One of Dicks hands strokes through Wally's hair while the other is brought up to his bloody lips. Sharp teeth pull at the fingertips of his glove. The black fabric slides off, and Dick places it on the ground.
Wally watches, mesmerized, as Dick brings his newly exposed wrist up to his lips and bites down with a precise motion.
Blood, thick, red, strong, wells up where the skins been punctured. Wally feels a strange, irresistible draw as his mouth begins to water.
“We’re almost done,” Dick murmurs, a small smile curling at the edge of his lips.
The wound is carefully brought to Wally’s face—it would be a shame to let any of it spill—and he latches onto the wrist the second it's within reach.
Rich and cool, it slides down his throat. It fills him with energy, strength, building him up after he’s been torn down.
Once he’s taken many deep servings, some color returning to his skin, Dick pulls his hand away, the wound healing almost instantly.
Both hands now brush through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, framing his face and making it impossible not to stare at the vampire before him.
“I know you share my sentiment,” Dick says, voice soft. He sounds so kind, so loving, not evil and murderous. “But I won’t force you to say it.”
Lost in a trance, Wally still doesn’t think he has the will to speak or knows what words to say. Instead, he’s compelled to move.
Body finally responding to his commands, he lifts his arms up from where they had limply hung at his sides, and wraps one around Dicks torso, the other coming up to rest in his inky black hair.
Voice not working, he leans forward, tugging Dick towards him until their foreheads meet. He lets out a shaky breath to gather himself, except it only succeeds in reminding him that he doesn’t need to breathe anymore.
Dick chuckles softly, uncertainly, a noise Wally knows so intimately, told himself he would cherish for all his days. It feels like hope, or love, a comfort despite everything that's gone wrong.
He presses forward, until lips meet in a small kiss, being careful not to let their sharp teeth cut. It's janky and awkward, but that’s okay.
They have forever to figure out how to do it right.