The Good He Seeks (0/?)
“Young Justice aren't superheroes.
They're (supernatural) hunters.
They travel the country (in M'gann's ship/car).
Saving people. Hunting things.”
Except it's kinda started way before they got that far. Right now it’s just the origin of Robin. It's going to be a long fic. I've got another part half written but I hate writing for myself, it's like talking to an empty room.
Also (pretty much equally) based on the quote:
“No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.” Mary Wollstonecraft
Warnings: Swearing, extremely non-graphic, mostly off-screen, violence (demons can be angry, even if flashbacks)
A/N: So this was actually partially inspired by another fill from the prompt here that involved an actual evil demon in Robin and Artemis exercising him and the demon was messing with her saying Robin had been possessed all along and I thought ‘whoa! what if…?’ and this fell onto paper. Super OOC-seeming Robin but that’s kinda what a demon inside of you does. Plus its all a flashback.
Part 0
When Robin, before he was Robin, first entered young Richard Grayson, he’d thought it’d be easy. An angry religious gypsy acrobat had used his dying words to invoke a demon to avenge him and his family tenfold. A brief negotiation later and for the low price of a double homicide, two souls would be his.
Then things got complicated. John Grayson had joined his wife in death almost immediately after the deal was sealed, leaving only little Richard -who he’d entered upon arrival merely for the morbidity factor. Due to the deal, he could only ride a member of the Grayson family for the duration of time it took to complete his mission and, now that John was dead, in young Richard Grayson he was stuck.
It had been okay at first, tracking the actual gunman wasn’t terribly difficult, even with such a small body. Killing Tony Zucco while pretending to be a dead child was actually unexpectedly enjoyable. Getting the name of an employer from a gibbering idiot was much less fun though so he’d decided just to kill him and track the man down via other methods.
That was when the problem became apparent. He couldn’t find him. Whoever told Tony Zucco to kill the Graysons in retaliation for not paying protection had seemingly melted into the earth. He couldn’t even uncover a name. And so he was trapped in a little boy on the streets of Gotham, searching for a man who seemed more and more a myth, for the next 50 years.
As time passed, he began to forget things. The memories and thoughts in the boy’s mind merged slowly with his own until there was no Richard really there anymore. It was so gradual, he didn’t see it until years later when he compared what he was now to what he was before and by then it was too late. If he forgot himself and said thank you when it was unnecessary for his cover, well it was a habit that could be easily broken later. If he found he had less and less drive to go on murder sprees, well, the police were getting better at keeping track of those sorts of things. It was gradual, and, most of all, it had seemed so utterly insignificant is comparison to the fact he was stuck until he could find his target, that he’d just written it off as something to be addressed at a later, more convenient, time.
Things got interesting again in 1994. He’d been chasing some destructive hooligans off the dock -merely for the mild entertainment value- when the rock salt hit his shoulder. That had been the day he’d first met Bruce Wayne, though he hadn’t known it at the time. It hadn’t been particularly easy, but he’d gotten away, salt-encrusted docks surrounded by salt waster crossed off his list of places it was intelligent to go to. Then he’d realized the opportunity.
According to the deal, he could not willingly leave Richard Grayson until he killed the man behind Zucco. However, if he were to be “unwillingly” captured and exercised… It wouldn’t be a fun experience by any measure but it would get him out of the now (thanks to fucking slow aging) twelve year old boy. He’d sought out the hunter after that, causing ruckuses with a delicate care to attract only a hunter - not the police.
It had taken a ridiculous amount of time, but the hunter had finally shown up again when he’d “accidentally” saved the old woman who’d always left him a plate of food on the fire escape every evening since he first directed her home when she was a young teen from a mugger. He’d waited until Miss Sara had gotten to the well-lit haven of Glover Street before turning to kill the greasy blonde man with the ridiculous goatee only to realize the hunter was right there leaning against the wall just inside the shadows of the alley. His grasp had slacked slightly in shock and the would-be mugger bolted into the alley as well, seeming to not see the man already in there. He’d given chase only to barely make in into the shadows himself before he found himself caught in a devil’s trap. He’d released a flood of colorful words at being robbed of his boon again.
“I told you, Queen,” the hunter commented, unaffected by his colorful words, “this one’s different.”
The two hunters -because of course they were hunters- had completely ignored him during their brief confusing argument. It seemed Queen wanted to exercise him right there but Wayne had mysterious other plans.
Wayne apparently won because when he woke groggily from being pistol-whipped by an angry blonde be was tied to a chair in a decently roomy devil’s trap surrounded by a circle of salt. He tested the bonds and found that he’d actually been bound oddly comfortably and even what must have been a cut on his temple was bandaged.
“Good. You’re awake,” Wayne had stated. He’d looked up and realized he was in what was possibly the largest cave he’d ever seen on earth in some sort of computer/lab/study space. Wayne had walked forward, though not close enough to actually enter the salt circle. “I have some questions for you.”
He had not enjoyed answering Wayne’s questions. Wayne didn’t really seem like he was enjoying asking them. He’d later learned it took three months in the cave dancing the same dance every day/night/whothefuckknew/week before he’d caved and told Wayne everything, painting the most monstrous image of himself possible in a final bid to get the damnable man to finally exercise him. He had not succeeded. Instead he’d been offered a new deal. Become Wayne’s informant and protégé, in a manner full of restrictions and stipulations, and in 50 years, if Wayne was still alive, Wayne would free him if he still wished to be. He’d refused vocally at first, -that was a terrible deal!- but a few months later anything would have been better than his current existence. When Wayne had come downstairs that day/night/whothefuckknew/week, he’d agreed. To everything. Wayne had smiled at him for the very first time and frankly it had been terrifying.
“You need a name,” Wayne had said after their deal had been brokered.
“Robin,” he’d replied instantly, the title slipping off his tongue before he could completely think back to its origin. Wayne had looked at him in question but he’d refused to elaborate. The fuzzy memories he had of the little boy who had long since faded into the back of his mind making him feel oddly warm. It …fit. It was right. He was Robin now.
The first thing he’d done when he’d gotten out of that damnable cave was escape the ridiculously enormous house on top of it and, after making sure absolutely no one was watching, rolled around in the grass under the sunshine laughing like a loon. When he returned, he told Wayne he was testing his new bounds.
Wayne had told him he couldn’t leave the grounds, otherwise he’d have check on Miss Sara …then found a puppy to kick, because he was a demon, not some sort of hero or or good guy.
A/N: As a closing note, I’d like to make clear this isn’t supposed to be a straight up Supernatural ‘verse. If I tried that I would fail. I’ve seen like five episodes total and got the majority of the shows general plot from secondhand sources. For most of the stuff in ‘The Good He Seeks’ I’ll be pulling stuff out of my head in a mixed jumble of Supernatural, ghost stories, various (origin unknown to me) sources and blustered BS.
TBC...? Feedback please!
They're (supernatural) hunters.
They travel the country (in M'gann's ship/car).
Saving people. Hunting things.”
Except it's kinda started way before they got that far. Right now it’s just the origin of Robin. It's going to be a long fic. I've got another part half written but I hate writing for myself, it's like talking to an empty room.
Also (pretty much equally) based on the quote:
“No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.” Mary Wollstonecraft
Warnings: Swearing, extremely non-graphic, mostly off-screen, violence (demons can be angry, even if flashbacks)
A/N: So this was actually partially inspired by another fill from the prompt here that involved an actual evil demon in Robin and Artemis exercising him and the demon was messing with her saying Robin had been possessed all along and I thought ‘whoa! what if…?’ and this fell onto paper. Super OOC-seeming Robin but that’s kinda what a demon inside of you does. Plus its all a flashback.
Part 0
When Robin, before he was Robin, first entered young Richard Grayson, he’d thought it’d be easy. An angry religious gypsy acrobat had used his dying words to invoke a demon to avenge him and his family tenfold. A brief negotiation later and for the low price of a double homicide, two souls would be his.
Then things got complicated. John Grayson had joined his wife in death almost immediately after the deal was sealed, leaving only little Richard -who he’d entered upon arrival merely for the morbidity factor. Due to the deal, he could only ride a member of the Grayson family for the duration of time it took to complete his mission and, now that John was dead, in young Richard Grayson he was stuck.
It had been okay at first, tracking the actual gunman wasn’t terribly difficult, even with such a small body. Killing Tony Zucco while pretending to be a dead child was actually unexpectedly enjoyable. Getting the name of an employer from a gibbering idiot was much less fun though so he’d decided just to kill him and track the man down via other methods.
That was when the problem became apparent. He couldn’t find him. Whoever told Tony Zucco to kill the Graysons in retaliation for not paying protection had seemingly melted into the earth. He couldn’t even uncover a name. And so he was trapped in a little boy on the streets of Gotham, searching for a man who seemed more and more a myth, for the next 50 years.
As time passed, he began to forget things. The memories and thoughts in the boy’s mind merged slowly with his own until there was no Richard really there anymore. It was so gradual, he didn’t see it until years later when he compared what he was now to what he was before and by then it was too late. If he forgot himself and said thank you when it was unnecessary for his cover, well it was a habit that could be easily broken later. If he found he had less and less drive to go on murder sprees, well, the police were getting better at keeping track of those sorts of things. It was gradual, and, most of all, it had seemed so utterly insignificant is comparison to the fact he was stuck until he could find his target, that he’d just written it off as something to be addressed at a later, more convenient, time.
Things got interesting again in 1994. He’d been chasing some destructive hooligans off the dock -merely for the mild entertainment value- when the rock salt hit his shoulder. That had been the day he’d first met Bruce Wayne, though he hadn’t known it at the time. It hadn’t been particularly easy, but he’d gotten away, salt-encrusted docks surrounded by salt waster crossed off his list of places it was intelligent to go to. Then he’d realized the opportunity.
According to the deal, he could not willingly leave Richard Grayson until he killed the man behind Zucco. However, if he were to be “unwillingly” captured and exercised… It wouldn’t be a fun experience by any measure but it would get him out of the now (thanks to fucking slow aging) twelve year old boy. He’d sought out the hunter after that, causing ruckuses with a delicate care to attract only a hunter - not the police.
It had taken a ridiculous amount of time, but the hunter had finally shown up again when he’d “accidentally” saved the old woman who’d always left him a plate of food on the fire escape every evening since he first directed her home when she was a young teen from a mugger. He’d waited until Miss Sara had gotten to the well-lit haven of Glover Street before turning to kill the greasy blonde man with the ridiculous goatee only to realize the hunter was right there leaning against the wall just inside the shadows of the alley. His grasp had slacked slightly in shock and the would-be mugger bolted into the alley as well, seeming to not see the man already in there. He’d given chase only to barely make in into the shadows himself before he found himself caught in a devil’s trap. He’d released a flood of colorful words at being robbed of his boon again.
“I told you, Queen,” the hunter commented, unaffected by his colorful words, “this one’s different.”
The two hunters -because of course they were hunters- had completely ignored him during their brief confusing argument. It seemed Queen wanted to exercise him right there but Wayne had mysterious other plans.
Wayne apparently won because when he woke groggily from being pistol-whipped by an angry blonde be was tied to a chair in a decently roomy devil’s trap surrounded by a circle of salt. He tested the bonds and found that he’d actually been bound oddly comfortably and even what must have been a cut on his temple was bandaged.
“Good. You’re awake,” Wayne had stated. He’d looked up and realized he was in what was possibly the largest cave he’d ever seen on earth in some sort of computer/lab/study space. Wayne had walked forward, though not close enough to actually enter the salt circle. “I have some questions for you.”
He had not enjoyed answering Wayne’s questions. Wayne didn’t really seem like he was enjoying asking them. He’d later learned it took three months in the cave dancing the same dance every day/night/whothefuckknew/week before he’d caved and told Wayne everything, painting the most monstrous image of himself possible in a final bid to get the damnable man to finally exercise him. He had not succeeded. Instead he’d been offered a new deal. Become Wayne’s informant and protégé, in a manner full of restrictions and stipulations, and in 50 years, if Wayne was still alive, Wayne would free him if he still wished to be. He’d refused vocally at first, -that was a terrible deal!- but a few months later anything would have been better than his current existence. When Wayne had come downstairs that day/night/whothefuckknew/week, he’d agreed. To everything. Wayne had smiled at him for the very first time and frankly it had been terrifying.
“You need a name,” Wayne had said after their deal had been brokered.
“Robin,” he’d replied instantly, the title slipping off his tongue before he could completely think back to its origin. Wayne had looked at him in question but he’d refused to elaborate. The fuzzy memories he had of the little boy who had long since faded into the back of his mind making him feel oddly warm. It …fit. It was right. He was Robin now.
The first thing he’d done when he’d gotten out of that damnable cave was escape the ridiculously enormous house on top of it and, after making sure absolutely no one was watching, rolled around in the grass under the sunshine laughing like a loon. When he returned, he told Wayne he was testing his new bounds.
Wayne had told him he couldn’t leave the grounds, otherwise he’d have check on Miss Sara …then found a puppy to kick, because he was a demon, not some sort of hero or or good guy.
A/N: As a closing note, I’d like to make clear this isn’t supposed to be a straight up Supernatural ‘verse. If I tried that I would fail. I’ve seen like five episodes total and got the majority of the shows general plot from secondhand sources. For most of the stuff in ‘The Good He Seeks’ I’ll be pulling stuff out of my head in a mixed jumble of Supernatural, ghost stories, various (origin unknown to me) sources and blustered BS.
TBC...? Feedback please!