The stark stench of iron flooded his nostrils, attacking at his senses. It was a familiar scent, one that usually caused his stomach to growl and his mouth to salivate. But this time, his stomach rolled in disgust and his mouth formed into a grimace. He may have been used to the smell of his own blood, but never before in such quantity. The drizzling rain did nothing to help. Instead it soaked through his fur, making him unsure of just how much of the wetness was blood or water. All the while the thick humidity in the air caused the scent of iron to rise, engulfing his senses in a sick vapor.

His body was on fire, as if someone had torn open his pelt and stuffed hot coals in between, and yet his shoulders trembled from the cold. Despite the pain, he continued to trudge forward. His legs shook dangerously with each step, threatening to drop him to the muddy ground of the dark alley. Nothing but his determination kept him walking.

No. It wasn't determination. He was much too exhausted to keep lying to himself. It was fear. Fear of what lurked behind him; fear of them finding him if he stopped. Or, if he was to be more scientific about it, he was running on pure adrenaline. But even that was flowing out of his system as steadily as the crimson blood stained his black fur and spotted the copper ground.

Lightening suddenly shot through his front leg and spasmed painfully, causing him to stumble forward and fall face first into the ground. His chest rose slowly as he took in deep, heavy breathes, but he was never able to take in enough air.

Get up! You have to get up and keep moving!

He made no physical sign of rising.

Come on, you weakling! They'll find you if you don't keep moving!

Somehow he didn't seem to care much about that anymore.

Are you really giving up? Now? After everything you've been through?

Actually, now was the perfect time to give up. Especially after everything he had been through.

You're pathetic. If your pack wasn't already dead, they'd finish you off themselves.

A weak whine broke through the noise of the pounding rain. He nearly jumped in fright at the sound, wondering who could have possibly snuck up on him, despite his condition. It took barely a second later for him to realize that that deplorable, pathetic whimper had come from him.

He took in a deep, ragged breath that caused pain to spike throughout his emancipated form like jagged ice and allowed his head to fall limply into a growing puddle. He'd completely given up on ever moving again.

At least, that's what he had thought.

A pointed ear pricked slightly when the harsh cry of a human suddenly broke through the steady drone of the rain. Fear once again shot through him, causing his heart to race and the numbing fog that was beginning to blanket his mind and body to lift.

His blue eyes shut tightly and his heart felt like it would beat right out of his heaving chest.

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die!

The voices multiplied and grew louder. The echo of their boots stomping through puddles adding to the roar of the storm.

Utilizing his last vestiges of strength, he managed to lift his head from the ground. When a deep cry shot loudly nearby, he slowly got to his shaky feet and turned in the direction of his pursuers.

Let them come. Let them kill him and skin him. Let them parade his coat around the villages in glorious triumph over the cursed, evil wolf. But at least let them say that he didn't go down willingly. After witnessing the murder of his entire family as a cub, fighting off multiple hunters and wolves alike, feeling his stomach cry out in hunger pains and only sustaining his life on the flesh of rats and sheer stubbornness alone, he would not let himself be put down like a some mangy animal. He'd stand tall. He'd stand firm. And hopefully he'd be able to leave his murderers some crippled limbs to remember him by.

Within moments, he was staring right in the faces of at least a half a dozen men. Each glared at him menacingly, some sporting victorious grins and sneers. They carried nothing but basic farming tools as weapons, and that caused the wolf to feel even more shame and humiliation at the sight of his impending death. If he hadn't been so weak to begin with...

Slowly the men began taking steps closer to the wolf, side stepping gradually until they had him surrounded. The wolf did his best to eye each of his attackers, breathing hard and waiting with fear and anticipation for the first to get the guts to strike first. His exhaustion decided that the first brave soul would be the one to carry on the proof that he had existed. Now all he had to think about was what the lucky contestant would prefer: a mauled hand or a crippled leg?

He was much too tired to make such important decisions.

Laughter erupted among the men as they braced themselves for their imminent attack. One had apparently made a joke about what they'd do to the wolf's body, but this had little affect on the beast. He'd heard it all before anyways.

A menacing growl rumbled in his throat, his icy eyes flashing threateningly for his attackers to just make their move already.

Hurry up an get it over with!

Finally one of the men took a swift step forward, raising his ax above his head to strike down the injured wolf. With a speed that he had not thought was possible to posses at this point, he shot forward through the opening the man had given him and dug his fangs into the man's throat.

The man's loud, strangled cry was cut short before he fell back in a crumpled heap. The young wolf fell with his victim in a pile of tangled limbs. Angered cries arose and everything seemed to rush at him at him at once. He ran his tongue along his teeth, allowing the human's blood to fill his mouth and overwhelming his senses with one final euphoria.

A boot shot into his side, causing him to gasp painfully and fall to the ground and away from the convulsing man. The young wolf tried to rise, but his lethargy had caught back up to him. He had hardly moved when a shovel smashed into his head. A few more kicks riddled his body, cracking bones and shooting icy hot pain throughout his entire being. His agony filled cries were nearly muted by the heavy humidity and pattering of rain, as if the sky itself was ashamed. As if someone up there just couldn't wait to be rid of the eyesore that he was. Eyes closed for what he suspected to be the last time, waiting for that final strike of an ax, shovel, or scythe to finally erase his existence.

To finally end his suffering.

It was a pretty shoddy life to begin with.

And suddenly all was silent.

The beatings stopped abruptly, and voices silenced. He would have assumed he had finally died if not for the pulsing pain in his body and the patter of rain drops to remind him that he was (unfortunately) still breathing.

Something seemed to slice through the air and a sudden gasp of breath and then...more silence. But just as suddenly as all sound disappeared, it reappeared as metal clanged against the ground, muffled only by the mud gathering beneath their feet. Then a shuffle and startling thumps along the ground like someone had just dropped a couple sacks of flour.

The wolf tried his best to push back the creeping darkness just a tad longer, his curiosity somehow prevailing enough to urge himself to listen carefully. He didn't know what he expected, but when the patter of rain was all that remained, he dragged himself back into consciousness just enough to crack an eye open weakly.

He could hear nothing but his own ragged breathing and the fall of the rain. It was such a huge contrast to the yells and laughter that had rung through his ears earlier. Going by hearing alone, he'd have suspected he was somehow alone if his blurring vision didn't tell him otherwise.

Standing above him stood a dark figure, head cocked slightly and wide eyes watching him curiously. It took a moment for the wolf to make out details of the figure. Limp, wet black hair hanging over a pale forehead, contrasting heavily with the fresh crimson liquid staining its lips and dripping down its chin. Upon blinking a few times to clear up the fog clouding his vision, the wolf realized that the figure was just a boy. Older than himself, but still obviously so much younger, so much smaller than the five men- corpses, going by the silence and thick scent of blood- that circled them in motionless heaps.

Crouching next to the injured wolf, the boy's inhuman blue eyes scanned over his body. With the sudden close proximity, the wolf was suddenly assaulted by the strange scent the boy carried. A part of his brain buzzed in terror at the realization of just what stood over him, but the other half of his brain couldn't have cared less. At this point it didn't matter in what form his death came. Death was unbiased. In fact, it was the only unbiased thing that the wolf had ever come upon in this dark, cruel world that he lived in.

The boy reached a hand out hesitantly, as if afraid that the wolf would bite it off. When he made no attempt to move, his hand closed up the remaining distance and carefully traced his finger over one of the creature's many wounds.

"You're hurt." he stated in a voice as smooth as silk that passed over him like a breeze.

If he had the energy, the young wolf would have rolled his eyes at the comment. Instead, he did his best to meet the boy's gaze with his own. That's when he noticed the sudden flash of pity and fear in the boy's eyes.

"Are you still able to transform? You'll be much easier to carry in your human form."

He narrowed his eyes, managing no more than an indignant huff towards the boy. Like he'd waste his dying breaths on a transformation. He was adamant that he died as a wolf. He would not conform to the form of his hunters. No, he'd die in the very skin that he was hunted for.

The boy cocked his head worriedly, as if reading the wolf's thoughts.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you, but I can't get you out of here like this."

He would have scoffed considering he had heard this mocking reassurance countless of times before from the mouths of his enemies. However, this was somehow different. He was nearly compelled to actually believe the boy. His instincts screamed at him not to, but there was something about him...he wasn't sure if it was that cunning, sly silver tongued ability that this kind was said to posses, or if it was his weak, broken mind that was willing- begging even- to cling on to any possible shred of hope. He preferred to assume that it was the former.

The boy's shining blue eyes continued to stare into his, imploring him to comply. The wolf broke his steady gaze with the boy, instead opting to stare into nothing. Jowls opened and closed, tongue licking away the combination of bloods staining his snout.

He thought carefully about the boy's words. He wanted to listen, to obey if it meant being able to live. But... the idea scared him. His body was already a canvas of wounds and splattered blood, and he almost wondered if the boy could feel his pain with how it seemed to consume everything around him. He could transform...but it'd hurt like hell. A pained whine escaped his throat at just the mere idea of it all. The boy was quick to perk up at the cry, rubbing a surprisingly gentle hand over his brow.

"I know, I know. But you've gotta. Don't worry, I promise I'll get you out of here as fast as I can. I'll get you away from this hell hole."

The idea was sort of appealing. Even if he was going to die, he'd much rather be away from here to do it.

Shutting his eyes in resignation and in the fear of what was to come, he suddenly began to change. Cracked bones snapped and bruised flesh began to realign. His soft pelt began to melt away like autumn leaves, leaving him with cold, sticky skin. He hadn't noticed when he'd started screaming and writhing in pain, nor did he noticed when the boy shoved his hand into his mouth to stifle the cries. He bit into the hand ravenously, jaws nearly crushing the hand and fangs stabbing into the flesh. The boy was lucky that he was in the process of transforming, otherwise his fangs and wolf jaw would have certainly severed the appendage.

But despite all that, the boy didn't even mutter a single complaint at the pain.

When it was finally all over, there lay a bloody and broken boy along the muddy ground, breathing heavily and raggedly, mouth full of blood and tears leaking from his closed eyes. If there was one thing that he especially hated in this form, it was his inability to control or hide his emotions. Soon sobs escaped his throat and he started to curl in on himself, willing the pain, fear and shame to just disappear.

Without wasting any time, his small, emaciated body was lifted into gentle yet strong arms. He instinctively curled into the figure despite the fact that no warmth emanated from the body. Just the gentle contact was enough for him. It'd been so long since he'd had even that.

Soon the rain and the wind were stinging his cheeks as the boy took off at inhuman speeds, jumping over walls and racing over rooftops.

"What's your name?"

With the edges of unconsciousness finally pulling at the wolf boy's mind, he'd hardly heard the question whispered into his ear. Yet, without even thinking, he answered. He hadn't answered on instinct. No, instead, he probably answered in desperation; in hope. No one had bothered to ask him his name for as long as he could remember.

"Jason."

Everything had started to sound muffled and fuzzy, as if he was suddenly engulfed in cotton, and yet, through the fog Jason was somehow still able to hear the smile in his savior's voice.

"My name is Dick."

Jason's mouth twitched, as if ready to make some sort of reply, but darkness took him before he could respond.

Clutching the limp body closer to his body, the young vampire quickened his pace, leaving the outskirts of the human settlement and towards shelter. He could feel his face being strained by the anxiety and worry to get the child to safety, and yet he couldn't help the slight tug of a smile on his lips at the entire situation. Who would have thought that two common enemies would be brought together like this? Even he wasn't sure why he was helping the dying werewolf cub in his arms, but the moment he had laid eyes on him, he knew that he couldn't abandon him.

Author comments:

I don't even know what I am doing writing this. It is so completely different to my other works in progress, both in genre and in fandom. But I have to admit, I have a secret love for supernatural AU's and of course the BatFamily.

**EDITED. There shouldn't be too many typos now.

I hope you continue to read and enjoy it. Favs and follows are loved, comments are ADORED.