Chapter Text
Just as quickly as the pain started, it stops and Bernard sniffs around with the sudden need to hunt. His ears flick backwards.
There’s prey nearby. The scent is sweet, somewhat similar to how his Dia smells, but different. ‘Grassier’, almost. A rabbit maybe? It should be a fat one too. Already he can feel his mouth salivating at the thought of sinking his teeth into it’s delicate little throat and— a rumble in his stomach makes him growl in annoyance and he lifts his snout to the sky to locate where the smell is coming from. Six streets down and to the left.
He hops down from the balcony and prowls through the shadows, letting his nose lead him to the unassuming brick house in between a couple shops and apartment buildings.
He watches the fuzzy little thing hop around it’s enclosure for a moment. He can hear a human rustling around inside the house and for some reason a foggy part of his brain feels…wrong about this.
The hunger is harder to ignore though. His ear flicks and he creeps forward, his claws click against Gotham’s oil-slick roads. The human seems to be busy, based on the sound of scrubbing and the acidic almost painful smell of bleach.
One, he lowers himself to the ground the way Dia does whenever she hunts the pink feather toys he brings for her. Two, he waits for the rabbit to stop and sniff the air. Three! He leaps over the fence and into it’s enclosure, unfortunately for him, he misjudged his jump (Dia makes that look much easier) and the rabbit dashes away from him.
Unfortunately for the rabbit, it doesn’t make it far. Its enclosure is small and Bernard is very fast. A strange sense of exhilaration surges through him at the sound of its pained squeal as he pins it to the ground and snaps it’s neck.
He can feel his tail wagging behind him as he takes his first bite. And boy is it heavenly, he’s had rabbit before, just cooked and without fur. But this one is just so fat and juicy!
It’s skull makes a satisfying crunch between his teeth and he goes in for another bite when the door slides open and an ear splitting scream makes him wince in pain and whine sadly.
The human looks to be frozen in fear for a moment before those good ol’ Gotham instincts kick in and they throw a brick at him.
Bernard dodges and gives them a disgruntled growl, but he takes the hint and leaves. After he’s gotten a bit away he can hear the distant sound of someone collapsing to their knees and sobbing.
That foggy part of his brain rings in his mind again. But he just shakes his head to regain his focus and sniffs the air for more meat. Eventually following the scent trail of fresh blood to a dark shadowed alleyway near, but identifiably not in, crime alley.
He peeks around the dumpster and— his stomach drops as his mind suddenly becomes ten times clearer and he processes what it is he’s seeing.
It’s a man, young, about his age if he had to guess. But that’s not the part that makes his blood run cold and shock his mind out of its hunting mindset.
Bernard has seen dead bodies before. It’s hard to live in Gotham without having seen at least one throughout your life.
But most deaths aren’t this…brutal, hell even Darla’s death was a mercy in comparison to this.
His entrails are scattered across the concrete in a way that only reads as intentional as the slowly cooling but still warm blood seeps into the cracks and onto Bernard’s paw foot and part of an intestine falls from the gaping wound in the man’s stomach to the ground. Which causes Bernard’s hackles to raise in shock and fear. He doesn’t remember having fur, but that doesn’t stop the muted feeling of disgust at the sticky feeling in between his pads.
He glances over at the man’s face and almost throws up at the sight of his open, unseeing eyeballs, one of which is hanging limply from it’s socket. The sight combined with the stickiness of the blood in between his fur makes it so much harder to convince himself this is just a bad dream.
He hears the unmistakable sound of a grappling hook from above and finds himself looking up. There, right as the first few drops of rain begin to fall and thunder shakes the sky, is Batman.
Bernard can feel the man’s calculating stare through the cowl. It makes him shiver. Isn’t this guy supposed to be comforting to victims and witnesses?
Batman drops down from the roof, landing with a dull thud of his boots, and Bernard whines.
“Who are you?” He asks him in a deep, angry tone.
Bernard’s ears flip back in surprise and he tries to find his words until he tastes the remaining blood from that rabbit in his mouth, and suddenly, everything clicks into place.
No. No, he had to have seen Bernard come up onto the body right? He glances down at his claws… (claws?) And back at the body before quickly glancing away. His stomach churns violently with a mixture of nerves, desperation, and…helplessness.
Batman reaches for something on his utility belt and before he can even react, something sharp and fast whizzes past his cheek as a warning, and the more wolf-like part of his mind takes over as he drops down onto all fours and dashes through to the other side of the alley way and zigzags through the somewhat empty streets of Gotham.
He hears the thundering steps of the man’s boots echo across the various buildings before slowly growing quieter as he gets farther and farther away. The finalky sound stops when he crosses into a dingy looking part of Gotham and hides beside an abandoned movie theatre.
!!IT'S SAFE HERE!!
He waits, chest heaving and hackles still raised until the moment passes. Somehow, through an impossible feat of luck, Bernard has…gotten away? From Batman? Or at least lost him long enough to force his body to turn human again. Even though the moon in the sky makes that feel…wrong and itchy.
He glances at his reflection in a filthy oil puddle and whimpers. He certainly looks human now, way different to the furry beast he had been before, and the rain is washing away the blood. But, he certainly doesn’t look normal.
And he doesn’t just mean the brand new cut on his cheek that’s totally going to scar even though it seems to already be stitching itself together. No, his eyes are different. Yellow. With a slight shine in his retinas which make them glow in the dark.
It’s a striking difference to the blue-hazel they had been before. And a part of him wonders if he can play them off as contacts or something.
That dog…It’s eyes had been yellow. Even back then it had stricken him as strange…though that dog hadn’t been semi-humanoid and named Bernard.
Oh god, is he a werewolf now?! That’s how it works right? He looks up to full moon, still high in the sky and feels like crying.
Instead, he settles for standing back up on his hind legs legs, and picking at his fingernails while chewing on his lip.
He leaves the alleyway, it’s not like he has the best track record with those, and looks around in an attempt to find where he is.
The rain is still going hard, and he’s choosing to attribute his shaking to the cold. And not…what he just saw.
“Hey kid, you good?”
The person’s voice causes him to flinch and he feels something close to a snarl begin crawl it’s way up his throat as he turns around and glares at the rugged looking man across the street from him.
Instead of seeming discouraged the man crosses the street over to him and looks him up and down, eyes lingering on his torn clothes and rain slicked hair.
Sniff. Uegh, this guy smells worse than death itself. He unfortunately can’t help how his nose scrunches up in distaste and it’s clear the man notices. When he gets closer Bernard can make out the smallest tuft of grey hair up at his hairline.
He doesn’t mention it though, and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking.
“What do you want?”
The man switches the knee he’s leaning on and says, “I ain’t leaving until you can look me in the eyes and say you’re fine.”
What? “Why?”
He shuffles again (is he hurt?), and scoffs, “Because you’ve clearly been through hell or something and I’m not keen on having to clean a splatter off the side walk.”
Bernard opens his mouth and closes it, “I’m not gonna kill myself.”
The man doesn’t say anything. Just looks at him with that weird look in his eyes he’s had this entire time that Bernard can administer to barely concealed concern.
He makes sure to look him in the eyes this time. “I’m not!”
Finally he sighs and accepts that answer. “Aight, do you mind telling me what you’re doing in crime alley then?”
Oh, so that’s why Batman didn’t follow him. He tenses and looks away. “How do you know I don’t live here?”
The man looks him up and down again, “Despite the fact they’re torn to shreds, your clothes are stupidly expensive.”
Bernard looks down at his outfit again, he hadn’t really noticed, but he is wearing Tim’s sweatpants and one of Tim’s other shirts. He thinks he can remember thinking they smelled nice when he put them on?
“Oh.”
“Come on, I’ll show you the way out.” Then he starts walking off. As if expecting Bernard to just, follow him.
The rain pounds against the ground. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance.
Bernard follows him.
Eventually they stop at a road near the public library. The man waves him forward as a sharp crackling sound comes from his ear and something muffled comes through the other side.
Bernard doesn’t stick around to eavesdrop. He ducks into the library, asks to use a phone, and gets a ride home.
He stays low for a day or two, just until he’s sure Batman hasn’t suddenly figured out his identity.
Then after he had accidentally broken his sink handle for the sixteenth time he decides it’s time to actually figure out what this…werewolf thing means for him.
And, according to Reddit at least, he should be expecting to start noticing a few things;
1. Allergy to silver. (He doesn’t have any silver-silverware, no way to check this.)
2. Increased strength. (His sink handles are proof of that.)
3. Heightened senses. (He has noticed being more susceptible to smells and loud sounds.)
4. Being territorial? (He doesn’t think he’s shown signs of being territorial?)
5. Increased speed. (It would make how he got away from Batman make more sense, but to be fair, he wasn’t really paying attention.)
He will have to do further research, maybe he should dedicate a corner of his conspiracy board to werewolf experiments? It can go right next to his section of evidence on the Red Hood being a zombie.
His stomach growls and he pulls away from his computer only to find his fridge totally empty. There’s not even a stray ketchup bottle. (That was probably what he had guzzled down last night in hungry desperation…)
Fuck. He should add being constantly starving to his list.
He slams the door shut, wincing when his fridge makes a less than pleasant cracking noise, and gives Dia a pat on the head before begrudgingly leaving his apartment.
But its as he’s walking to the nearby butchers shop that he sees him.
Pale skin, black hair, and icy blue eyes that make his heart swell and phantom tail wag.
“Tim—!” But just as the man in question looks up at him with surprise and then that beautiful blinding smile of his—
His mind catches up with him and the stone in his still growling stomach sinks further down into his abdomen.
“Bernard!”
There's only one thought that crosses his mind as Tim starts running over to see him and his overwhelmingly familiar scent fills his nose, Please don’t notice my eyes.