Title: the beast upon your back, part 4
Word Count: 1,425
Characters/Pairing: Artemis/Dick
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Young Justice does not belong to me; I'm just here for the paranormal AUs apparently
Summary: "You're just a kid," she blurted, so shocked she forgot to train her crossbow properly. The oversight hardly mattered though, because it was true: rather than a fully grown werewolf, savage and deadly, all she found was a pale and scrawny boy, naked as the day he was born.

Note: Reminded to post this sucker because iapparently/i it was Rush's birthday a few days ago and somehow I missed the memo. Hopefully this helps to make up for it, my dear. (Bonus points to those who can guess the brief cameo in this chapter~)

It was really an accident that she found him again.

Gotham, keeping with many large urban centers, was something of a hotbed for hunters, creatures, and crime—a volatile mixture for sure. If ever a city needed help, it was this one. For all her faults though, Gotham was home, and Artemis would love her till her dying day.

Which was why she was currently neck deep in hostile vampires, trying her best to bust up their trafficking supply. It wasn't the top of the organization—frankly, she didn't have the resources or the reckless stupidity—but a new shipment was due to arrive tonight, and she knew she could put a stop to it. If the rumors were true, these vamps dealt in both humans and weres—for slaves, but particularly for highly illegal underground fighting rings.

Yeah, no way she was letting that one slide by unchallenged.

Of course, it probably would have been smarter to bring a bit of back up. She was holding her own so far, armed with a plethora of wooden stakes, a long and wickedly sharp knife, and a jerry-rigged flame thrower in case things got really hairy—but for every one she knocked down two more crowded closer, and she couldn't keep this up forever. As it was, Artemis had reached that state of pure, mindless fighting instinct, driven forward solely on ingrained reflexes with no time to think or hesitate.

From the corner of her eye she registered two dark figures break into the melee, taking out vamps and working steadily towards her. She didn't have time to worry about that though, not until she turned to find a new, massive form looming behind her. His hand shot out at her, but abruptly faltered; his eyes widened and for a moment they caught light from the waxing moon. Stupid of him, she was faster—but gold eyes, that wasn't right…

"Artemis!" a voice shouted, loud enough to penetrate to her brain. A voice shouted, and she knew it. She knew that voice.

She knew that voice.

Only the full extent of her father's training allowed the girl to check herself, adjusting her momentum so that she ducked under his arm instead of impaling a stake straight through his rib cage with extreme prejudice. Instead, Artemis slammed it into the vamp directly behind him. The last one standing, as it happened.

She twisted, searching for the source of that voice—and there he was, scrawny as ever and smiling at her like a small sun. (And, she was pleased to note, actually wearing clothes this time.) Without thought, she started towards him.

Behind her, boots shifted (warily, warningly; was she imagining this?) on gravel. She froze, momentum still trying to carry her forward, while her hands hovered uncertainly between them.

Dick seemed to have no such qualms, scampering up to her eagerly.

"Artemis!" he said again, practically vibrating where he stood. "You're okay!" He started circling her, eyes inspecting her body from blonde head to scuffed toe, and—was he sniffing her?

"I told you I would be, didn't I?" she said, and found herself smiling back. His energy was scarily contagious. "How's your leg doing?"

"Great!" He then proceeded to perform a startlingly rapid set of back handsprings to demonstrate, ending with an exaggerated flourish. "See? Good as new. Weres heal fast." Not quite finished showing off, he leapt forward, rolled, and sprung to his feet again right where he started off, directly in front of her. "But you helped a lot."

Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand. He twisted it so their palms were clasped together.

"I'm glad you're okay, too," she said, startled by how much she meant it, by how genuinely delighted she was to see him.

"Worried about me?" His grin turned impish, and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Only a little," she told him archly, but ruined the image by sticking out her tongue. He wrinkled his nose at her in turn, and seemed in no hurry to go anywhere.

"I can't believe we found you." His fingers tightened briefly around hers.

Behind them came a pointed cough, and with a start Artemis remembered the other werewolf. Dick jumped too.

"Oh, right," he laughed, voice going up a notch. "Artemis, this is Bruce. Bruce, this is Artemis. I told you about her, remember?"

Bruce fixed her with an appraising stare, and she fought a powerful urge to fidget.

Like he could read her mind, Dick squeezed her hand again. She straightened her back, holding the man's gaze steadily.

Finally, he said, "What exactly are you doing here, Artemis?"

She leapt as if he'd pinched her. Releasing Dick's hand, she spun in place, searching the shadows. There, near the gate, was the truck she'd damn well come for in the first place. Cursing herself—fucking unprofessional, that's what it was—she fumbled with the door, then threw it open.

Inside, a group anywhere between twenty to thirty people shrank away from her. Some bared their teeth, eyes flashing gold even in the dim light from outside. Some couldn't have been much older than her.

"It's okay," she said, thinking of Dick, bleeding and vulnerable in the woods. "They're gone now. You're free."

She stepped back, and cautiously, they emerged. She hoped they would be all right, and could find their ways home, but none of them seemed inclined to stick around in any case. One young woman looked back though, and their eyes locked; then her tall friend pulled her along, insistent and wary, and the moment was gone.

As she watched the last person disappear into the dark, Artemis felt a surge of satisfaction both warm and vicious. Let them try—the people of Gotham were under her protection now.

In the meantime, an argument seemed to be under way, low but fierce, comprised largely of flailing arms and emphatic gestures (Dick), and deep frowns and raised eyebrows (Bruce). Finally, Dick glared defiantly at Bruce and marched over to her.

"Do you have a place to stay?" he asked, pulling her up short.

"Not exactly…" she replied slowly. Oliver had suggested a room above his bar, but he had already offered her so much, and she was wary of owing him more than she already did. Nice as he appeared, people always came to collect eventually. Besides, she could take care of herself.

"Do you want to stay with us?"

He seemed earnest, practically eager, eyes huge and direct as he bounced on his heels. His arms were held stiff at his sides though, fists clenched small and hard. Artemis, to her embarrassment, couldn't stop her mouth from falling open.

"You don't even know me," she said, because it was the first thing that fell out of her mouth.

"I know enough." His bright blue eyes shone at her, clear as the summer sky, and this time he was the one to reach out, grasping her hand in both of his. "Come on, Artemis—pack is always better than being alone."

She wasn't so sure about that; just look at what she'd left behind. Artemis's gaze slid to Bruce. He was frowning still, but when he caught her eye he nodded at her. Dick just stared at her intently, hope written in huge neon letters across his face.

Then again, it occurred to her, there was a difference between the family you were born into and the family you chose.

"All right," she decided then and there, and Dick broke into another one of those infectious grins. With a loud whoop, he started doing cartwheels in circles around her. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the laughter that caught her by surprise.

To her astonishment, she noticed a smile tugging at Bruce's mouth too—though, at a guess, she thought it probably had more to do with Dick's obvious excitement than any particular happiness with the situation itself.

Artemis tried to ignore her own elation that she felt bubbling up beneath her rib cage. Happiness was a dangerous thing—it rarely lasted long, and you were only ever worse off for it in the end. For now though, she had a place, a cause, and a friend. It was more than enough.

Enthusiasm suitably displayed, her most unexpected friend planted his feet firmly on the ground and scratched the back of head, grinning bashfully.

"Hi Dick," she said, eyes dancing. His stunned gaze snapped to hers.

"Hi Artemis," he said back, and smiled all the wider.