Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sleep. He needed sleep.

It was starting to show; all those days without it. Dick had managed to convince Batman that it was just a terrible case of school and work banding together to make a fool out of his thirteen year old self. He’d given him a once over and a short squeeze on the shoulder before zeta-ing off to the Watchtower for the week.

Alfred, on the other hand, had been much harder to convince. It’d taken several days of nonstop studying to convince the ever-attentive butler that dark rings framing his eyes—so similar to his domino, that it wrung out a few ragged chuckles when he stood in front of the mirror—were the result of a rather tenacious and material-happy teacher. Dick had promised Alfred that after a weekend with his friends, they’d disappear for good.

He could only hope the shadows wouldn’t follow. They’d plagued him for days, softly at first, just a little twitch at the corner of his vision. It had been easy to chalk it up to Gotham’s turbulent atmosphere at first, but then they’d decided to make themselves known. Their silken tendrils brushed at him in his sleep, poking at his limbs and gliding across his chest; like curious albeit greedy children they learned every inch of him, claiming pieces of him as their own, battling each other for possession.

He’d given up sleeping on the fourth night, the night the League had been called away to deal with a global threat. By the light of the gibbous moon, he’d fashioned himself a charm of his people. It hung low on his throat and flashed in the light, pushing back the shadows to allow Dick some breathing room.

The zeta tubes clicked off silently, as he stumbled out into the cave. There was no one to greet him, and frankly it was a relief. He didn’t want to have to explain the sudden appearance of much larger sunglasses. But it was dark; the kind that hung of the walls, and oozed across the floor, thick like molasses.

Light. He needed light.

Dick started forward into the sticky darkness, bumping into walls and corners as his hands searched blindly for his room. His hands smacked across the surface of his door and he shivered. It was much too cold for the cave, and his hands suctioned themselves to the metal. His fogged brain couldn’t react fast enough and he felt the door grow slick with moisture. It writhed and twisted under his fingers, reaching out with cold spongy hands to grasp at his own.

With a sharp gasp, he wrenched himself free, one hand flying for the charm around his neck as the other hastily worked out the security code. The door pushed open with a soft hiss, as quiet and solid as any other door in the place. Dick eyed it one last time, forcing his pulse to calm, before stepping inside as the door slid shut.

His pulse jumped again. Inside the shadows churned about his room, gliding up the walls and over his sparse furniture.

The light, where was the light?

He stuck out a hand, fumbling around the wall for the switch, and all put slammed his fist into it when he found it. The lights flared into life, throwing the room in sharp relief. His eyes burned as the shadows fled to the far corners of the room, and he finally allowed the tension to leak from his bones.

He was safe here—safe till dawn. The clock at his bed stand flashed at him, 2:13, 2:13. Just four more hours till sunrise, he could last that long. In the morning he’d make the charm stronger, maybe ask Zatanna for a few pointers. He’d be fine, it was better around others, and Batman would be returning on Sunday. He’d talk to him then. He could handle it. He was fine. He—

Come hither, said the cat to the itty-bitty bird, Something moved by the door. Let’s play all night, till the stars are blurred. He clamped his hands to his ears. I have a pretty little ribbon for one as small as you,

His dresser rattled, the picture frames shattering as they hit the floor. Round your neck it’ll go—such a lovely, lovely, velvet red bow.

The charm at this throat sizzled dangerously against his skin. It’ll wrap tight and snug with my love for you—

“STOP!” he cried, tearing open his eyes.

His heart stopped. His room was gone; the walls, the furniture, everything. And in its place was shadow, dark and twisting shadow. Dick’s fingers snapped up to the charm as laughter echoed around him.

—a tethering string just for two.

In front of him, the air grew hazy as a few black coils rose up to meet it. They slowly coalesced into a humanoid shape and Dick felt the charm quiver.

“Klarion,” he breathed.

The witch-boy grinned in delight, offering him a mocking bow, “Hello, birdie.”

“What do you want?”

“To play,” he replied, cocking his head to the left.

Dick opened his mouth to respond when the space beneath him flared up. He gasped, as the fire swarmed his body, burning away his clothes. Klarion smirked, the corners of his face angling and twisting into something otherworldly.

The flame grew in intensity, washing over his frame until gathering at all four of his limbs. They singed his wrist and ankles before licking out to connect with something around him. He smelled wax—candles. Craning his neck, he glanced around, and felt his stomach drop.

“Do you like it?” Klarion asked stepping into the pentacle and straddling Dick abdomen, “I made it just for you.”

Dick glared hard, but the witch-boy just laughed, leaning forward with sharpening claws. The charm hissed at the intruder, spiting sparks the moment Klarion’s hands scraped Dick’s skin. The child howled in pain and snatched his hand back.

Dick smirked, trying the fire-binds again, and it grew wider when they weakened a little. He moved to sit up, when a hand slapped him back down.

The shadows grew larger, doubling in mass as Klarion’s head twisted round to meet him.

“Naughty, naughty bird,” he chided, walking a finger up his chest with every word, “it’s time to put your toys away.”

His other clawed hand shot forward wrapping around Dick’s throat, as the other lifted the charm up with a nail. He leaned closer, pressing his lips by Dick’s ear, “Did you think such magic, could affect me?” The greasy strands of his hair molded themselves to Dick’s face as their eyes met, “I am chaos.” he breathed, “No one can hold me. Not your People, the sages of old, not the Romans, the Turks—not even your precious Nabu.”

His breath ghosted over Dick’s face, musty and ancient, before righting himself on his captive and snapping the charm in half. It dulled in an instant then sizzled away into the surrounding chaos.

“Now, where were we?” he asked, “Oh yes!” The fire-binds trembled, burning more of Dick’s flesh as Klarion’s face caved in on itself. It twisted and darkened, eating up the candlelight. “Let’s play”

Dick tried to bite back a scream as clawed fingers dug their way into his stomach, but only succeeded in suppressing half of it. The rest seeped through his teeth, before shadows chased after it, fighting amongst themselves for the rights to devour it.

“So pretty,” Klarion marveled, slits forming where his eyes should have been, “so red.” He pushed in further, wiggling his fingers and caressing organs and soft tissues, before yanking it out. Dick slammed his teeth down on his lower lip, his vision fogging. More shadows pressed in at his temple, eager for more.

“I think that’s enough,” Klarion mused. Flicking a tongue out to taste his ruby red nails, he grinned, “So sweet,” and then cupped one hand at the source. Blood pooled erratically into his palm, in time with Dick’s heaves.

Klarion pressed an ear to his chest, “It’s so fast,” he murmured appreciatively, “Your heart beat's like wings.”

Carefully, he dipped three fingers into the blood, and with precise defined strokes he flicked them across Dick’s chest. It was almost reverent in a way. They were slow and gentle, the blood-paint sliding effortlessly across the smooth fleshy plane. It made Dick shiver.

The image slowly took shape, and Dick could feel it searing down into him. He could feel the thin outline of the pentagram, the long sweeping motion of its surrounding circles, but he let out a scream, when Klarion started on the animal in the middle. The lines grew hotter, a thick muggy heat, that slide its way to his core. There it latched on and dug its greedy fingers into him. He thrashed, thrashed with all the strength he had left.

Klarion’s movements stopped, just a couple of stroke away from finishing the goat, “Don’t struggle please dear, it’s only a game.” He pushed the both hands into bleeding hole in Dick’s stomach, “The more you twist, and the more you worm…” Dick shrieked, tears springing free and cries bouncing across the shadows. “…the faster and stronger my line pulls firm.”

With two flicks of his claws, Klarion finished off his pentagram. It flared into life, drinking up the ragged screams ripping their way out of Dick’s mouth. He arched up, hands slipping on blood and tears, and then crumpled to the ground.

Klarion stroked the boy’s sweaty hair, eyes dancing in the firelight. He reached a claw over to skim his bird’s fluttering eyelashes, before leaning forward and licking across his lips. “Bye, bye.”

The world of chaos retreated in on itself, fading out in slow hypnotic swirls, and when Dick opened his eyes, he was in his room again, everything as it should have been. There was an insistent banging on his door. Wally.

“Rob!” he cried, “Rob, buddy! It’s time to get up! M’gann’s got breakfast dude!”

He sat up slowly, and moved to run a hand down his stomach. It hovered above his shirt for a moment, before falling back down to his side. He didn’t need to look, the slow burn was enough.