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Tim huffs, ignoring Dick’s whining and complaining in favor of slipping out of the manor. Sure, he’s spent enough time with the Waynes to learn they’re not just keeping him around for entertainment purposes or whatever, but Tim still can't help the nagging feeling of danger that being around a werewolf and harpy brought. Perhaps it was something instinctual? Tim thinks that might be a part of it, seeing as there was something about werewolves and vampires being sworn enemies.
Either way, he didn't care enough to dwell on anything other than taking a walk to find space and clear his mind.
The fledgling purses his lips, eyes tracing the horizon as his feet take him into town. There were whispers of the newest “stray” Bruce Wayne collected, but as far as Tim knows, his being the stray in question wasn’t public knowledge quite yet.
The sound of his feet tapping rhythmically against the concrete helped calm some of his frayed nerves. Tim finds it a little odd that the Waynes were so… hovery.
As he traversed through the city, he found himself salivating at the smell of blood wafting through the air and the sound of beating hearts in his ears. It was distracting, sure, but ever since Dick and Jason have started feeding him- read: just stopping shy of shoving blood down his throat whenever they thought he was growing hungry- he’s grown capable of leashing his hunger.
Tim gave a rather put-upon sigh, but paused as he caught a faint metallic whiff. Typically, that would signal blood, but in this case, every nerve in the fledgling’s body began to sing with danger.
He stiffened, glancing over his shoulder to catch sight of a trio of people behind him- and, as he thought about it, they had been tailing him for several blocks now, hadn’t they?
One of the men reached into his cloak, and-
Tim ducks, something whistling over his head as he breaks into a run.
“Shit-” He hissed under his breath, the city passing by in a blur as the fledgling twisted into a dingy alleyway.
Several pairs of footsteps thundered behind him, paired with angered screams and cries that- frankly- he didn’t care to parse.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, fear screamed in the back of his mind, a siren wailing desperately for him to survive.
Caught up in his need to escape, the fledgling didn’t notice the bottle lying directly in his path. The next thing he knew, Tim was on the ground with pain searing through his body.
“It’s right there!”
He struggled to fill his lungs, struggling to scramble upright, just to be met with an overwhelming burning sensation that overtook his entire body.
A choked, strangled noise escaped his throat.
“Finally,” someone behind him huffed, “this would’ve been much easier if it didn’t run.”
“Yeah, but it’s your fucking fault,” someone else snapped, “I told you not to unsheathe the fucking knife until it was within reach.”
“Oh, shut up! We caught it, didn’t we?”
“Both of you,” a third sighed, crossing into Tim’s field of view, “stop it.”
Tim wheezed, barely able to think past the burning sensation radiating out from his hind leg, clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin from drying blood.
Unceremoniously, the third person shoved his fingers into Tim’s mouth, forcing his jaws apart before jerking his head this way and that. The fledgling snarled, twisting just enough to snap his jaws shut. Unfortunately, his teeth closed around nothing but air.
The third snickered at his attempt, giving Tim’s cheek a condescending pat, “Aren’t you feisty? Korren, collar it, and we’ll take it to processing.”
“Got it, boss.”
A heavy metal collar was then fastened around his throat, tight just enough to stop him from taking a full breath. Thankfully, the burning intrusion was removed from his calf, providing the fledgling a brief respite. Unfortunately, he was unceremoniously yanked to his feet before the three men began dragging him away, ignoring how the fledgling stumbled and staggered both from the unrelenting pace and the weakness the injury brought.
They brought him to a nondiscript vehicle with missing license plates before shoving him into the back. Just before they slammed the door shut, a familiar, haunting howl sounded in the distance, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be brought back home.
“... Why are you doing this?” Tim asked, picking nervously at his hands before peering toward one of the men who kidnapped him.
The man- he thinks the second one- gives him a considering look before responding, “It’s not the best of jobs, but it pays well.”
He furrows his brows in confusion, glancing briefly toward the two others sitting in the front- they seemed to be lost in their own conversation- before turning his attention back to the man who seemed to be in charge of making sure Tim doesn’t escape... or whatever. “What do you mean?”
He gives Tim a wry smile. “You really think I want to be poaching fledglings?”
“...”
A huff. “Well, I don’t. I don’t have enough cash to leave this godforsaken country, and this job pays handsomely. Rich folks love wearing bloodsucker fangs as status symbols since vamps are god-awful to harvest. Fully-fledged vampires are a pain to ensnare and even hard to harvest fangs from, but fledglings, on the other hand, don’t have the strength of adults and fledgling fangs come out cleaner.”
Tim blinked, subconsciously pressing his tongue against the back of the fangs he was snatched for as the man continued to explain his reasons.
“Of course, most fledglings have their sire lurking around nearby- but that’s why we go hunting ‘round in Gotham. No vamp in their right mind would come sleuthing with the Fang and Talon haunting the city, which means any vamps we do find are either stupid, or were abandoned by their sires.”
A beat stretches between them before Tim speaks up quietly, “Which category do you think I fall into?”
The man hums, indulging in Tim’s questions. “I’d wager you were abandoned.”
Tim huffs and looks away. The air between them grew stagnant and weighty. The vehicle was nearing Gotham’s edge, and if someone doesn’t come find him soon, then…
The fledgling wonders if the howl he had heard was even real to begin with, or if it had been just an illusion his terrified mind came up with to soothe himself.
He really hoped that wasn’t the case, because if it was…
Tim pinched himself, forcing the thought out of his mind.
Dick and Jason will find him soon.
He’s sure of it.
Sirens wail, brilliant blue and red lights flash as a police car pulls over a dark minivan.
The doors to the car unlock, and Bruce climbs out. A large, dark-furred wolf paces anxiously along the length of the vehicle, barely out of sight of the minivan. The moment his shoes hit the asphalt, the wolf begins to growl impatiently.
He places a steadying hand against his neck before motioning for him to head forward.
As the cop spots the pair approaching, the color drains from his face, and he excuses himself. Bruce takes the cop’s place, pleased to see the driver’s expression shift from annoyed to shit-his-pants terrified.
“Evening, gentlemen,” Bruce greets lowly, “would you two mind stepping out of the car?”
“W-why?” the man in the driver’s seat stammers, wincing as his partner smacks his arm, “I mean! I- we- haven’t done anything wrong- sir. I don’t know what we could’ve done to warrant your appearance, I mean-”
A thunderous growl splits the air, and both men hastily scramble out of the vehicle.
“Look, we-”
“Shut up, Jeremy!” the man on the passenger side snapped, his voice on the edge of hysterics, “I swear to fucking god! We are about to die, do you really want your last words to be you begging?!”
“You know what, fuck this shit!” the man- Jeremy- screams before reaching for what Bruce assumes to be a gun.
He can only sigh as, even before Jeremy could reveal the firearm, Jason surges forward and tears into the man. From above, Dick screeches and, frankly, mauls the second man.
Bruce hums before reaching forward and plucking open the door.
The third man blinks as the door fully opens, a stark contrast to Tim, who practically melts with relief.
“I didn’t know Bruce Wayne involved himself in the affairs of monsters.”
He didn’t dignify the man with an answer. Instead, he reached forward and gently removed the collar resting around his son’s neck, gently brushing a thumb across the rash it revealed. He scoops the fledgling into his arms, humming gently as he slumped into Bruce’s hold, tiny hands clutching his suit as relieved sobs shook his entire body. The human could feel his hand dampen with the blood that oozed from Tim’s wounded leg and made a mental note to have his secretary cancel all of his meetings for the rest of the week.
The moment he turned around, he heard Dick cackle gleefully. Pained screams soon filled the air as his eldest two began to rain vengeance upon the man.
“Alfred,” Bruce greets lightly as he slides into the back with Tim still clutched tightly within his arms, “We still have the bloodbags back at the manor, don’t we?”
“Yes, sir, we do.”
He hums, “Good. Let’s head home.”
“Very well, I will be sure to prepare a warm meal for Master Tim once we arrive home.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, sir. This is, in fact, my job.”
Tim sniffled, rubbing weakly at his eyes as he sipped at the bag of warm blood, his cheeks warm with embarrassment after declining offers of blood from Dick, Jason, and Bruce. Even then, he could tell Dick was barely holding himself back from spoon-feeding Tim the blood.
“Next time,” Jason huffs with narrowed eyes, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, “you are not to leave the manor without at least one of us present. Am I understood?”
“Jay, don’t be like that,” Dick sighed, pressing Tim’s head against his collarbone before shielding the fledgling with his wings, “I’m sure Tim knows better now.”
“You literally warned him!”
“Boys,” Bruce interjected, the man’s eyes fond despite his weary tone, “your brother has had a long day, pipe day.”
The harpy and the werewolf made apologetic noises in tandem, and Tim relaxed into his eldest sibling’s warm and sheltered hold.
Yeah, okay… Yeah. Maybe… this was okay.