Jason staggered through the streets in a desperate haze, his head and heart churning with guilt and shame. He sank to his knees in a dark alley and vomited the remains of his dinner, the partially digested chilidog coming up painfully astringent. He spat several times but the taste lingered, sour and unpleasant. The urge to do something, something drastic and horrible and wrong, was so strong.

He wanted the dreams to stop. He wanted them to be real. He wanted Dick to leave Gotham and never come back. He wanted to run away with the circus. He wanted he wanted he wanted he wanted…

With a cry of anguish, he reached up and ripped the collar from his throat, dropping it amongst the filth and trash. Then he ran, blinded by tears but it didn't matter because his feet knew the way, his body following a path that had been etched into muscle memory long ago. And then he was there, in his old digs, just a corner he'd carved out for himself in a dilapidated warehouse when he hadn't a place in the world to call home.

The place had been ransacked, most of the useful things like blankets and dishes stolen, but there was one place that the casual scavenger was unlikely to have looked. He groped around on his hands and knees in the dark until he came across a smooth metal plate. Flipping it up, his questing fingers found the electric sockets underneath, long dead since the power to the building had been shut off years ago. It was just a decoy anyway. He yanked the entire assembly up and just below, he found what he was looking for. He pulled the small plastic sack out of the hole and dug around until his hand closed around the familiar shape of a lighter. With the aid of the little flickering flame, he sifted through the contents of the bag. There was a clean-ish syringe in there along with a spoon, some cotton balls, and…well, his stash, or what was left of it. He lifted the little baggie out of the sack with shaking hands. For a moment, he simply stared at the brownish powder, need burning like an unquenchable thirst through his veins, but then the lighter suddenly became a little too hot to hold, and he dropped it with a hiss. The warehouse went dark.

"What the fuck am I doing? Oh God, oh God oh God oh God," he moaned, dropping the baggie to cover his face with his hands. "Oh Lord, have…m-mercy on me. Lead me back onto the path of r-righteousness, and protect me now and always from my stupid f-fucking pathetic self. Please, God help me. Please please please please. Amen."

He sucked in several ragged breaths and felt his panic begin to subside. Quickly, before, he could rethink it, he swept everything back into the plastic sack and replaced it beneath the socket assembly and the metal plate.

Bruce was just sitting at the small kitchen table in the rectory sipping a cup of coffee and making the final edits to his homily on his laptop when the door flung open hard enough to put a dent in the wall.

"Jason!" His eyes widened in shock as he took in his protégé's filthy, tear-stained appearance. He stood up quickly and came around the table to grip Jason's shoulders tightly. "What happened? Are you injured? Jason, look at me."

Jason looked up at the command, but the second he met Bruce's worried gaze, what little composure he had seemed to shatter under the scrutiny, and he collapsed against Bruce's chest with a wordless cry. Bruce held the shaking young man in his arms and murmured soothing nonsense words. He didn't like to jump to conclusions, but he suspected he knew what this was about. He was well acquainted with Jason's past, after all, and the two of them had sat many a time at this very table and talked late into the night, until Jason's restless hands had stilled and his cravings were once again under control.

"…so close, I almost…I was there, and I had it, and I could've, but I didn't, I could've but I didn't, and it was so close." Jason's face crumpled in anguish as another tortured sob escaped him, fresh tears and snot running down his face.

Bruce grimaced. He grabbed a paper towel off the roll on the kitchen counter and handed it to Jason. "Sit down and compose yourself. I'll get us a drink." He was gratified to see Jason wiping at his face and attempting to get himself under control while he went to pour them both a stiff drink. When he returned, Jason seemed marginally calmer, although silent tears still dripped slowly off his chin to soak into his dark clergy shirt.

"What happened?" Bruce asked.

Jason downed the shot of whiskey and Bruce obligingly poured him another before he answered. "I…I've been having these…thoughts. Bad thoughts. Um…impure thoughts." He flicked a glance up at Bruce and flinched as though he expected…what? Judgment, recrimination, a slap in the face?

That small gesture was enough to remind Bruce that their relationship went far deeper than any mentor/mentee relationship, that Jason thought of him not just as Father Bruce but as a father. He remained still, keeping his expression sympathetic, his voice calm. "You know, Jason, just because we make a pledge of celibacy doesn't mean we never think about sex. We're human, after all. We're bound to think about it some time. The key is not to dwell on it, and to purge these urges through meditation and prayer."

Jason wrung his hands. "I tried. I tried and it didn't do any good. Ever since I met him, I can't stop thinking about him. Every time I close my eyes-"

"Him? Him who?" Bruce asked, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Merciful Lord, this was even worse than he'd thought. It was one thing to have the odd erection when an attractive woman passed you on the street – those sorts of automatic reactions were almost impossible to control, particularly for a young man in his sexual prime – but it was quite another thing to be lusting repeatedly after one person. One man, at that!

Jason quailed at the look on his face, and Bruce very deliberately smoothed his expression back into a neutral one.

"Dick…his name is Dick," Jason said, licking his lips nervously. "He's a travelling circus performer. I met him the other night in front of Frank's. Travis and his gang were giving him and his friend a hard time, so I helped them out. To thank me, he gave me free tickets to his show. I thought…it couldn't hurt, right? I mean, it's just a show; lots of people go to these things. But last night I had this…dream, and I…I uh, in my sheets, you know."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boy's bright red face. "Yes, I know."

"And then tonight, when I saw him, it was like…I don't know. I couldn't stop thinking about it. And then he touched me-"

"He what?" Bruce asked sharply.

Jason cringed. "Not like that, I mean, just like, on the arm, you know? But it felt like…it was like…" His face contorted in frustration. "Every time he looks at me, every time he touches me, I feel like all the air's been sucked out of my lungs, and my brain's melting and I'm just…burning up from the inside out."

Bruce frowned. This did not sound like a passing bout of lust, or even a schoolboy crush. This sounded, if he was frank, altogether rather sinister. "How many times have you dreamt about this man?"

"Uh, twice, including tonight," Jason answered.

"And you've never had dreams of this nature before?" Bruce asked.

Jason shook his head emphatically. "Never. Hand to God, Father, I don't think about sex like that. I ain't never had dreams like these before. They feel…well, real, like it's actually happening, and the feeling doesn't go away even after I wake up."

Bruce hmm'd thoughtfully. "Describe these dreams to me."

Jason hesitated, and there was another bout of intense hand wringing, but after another slug of whiskey, he finally started to talk.

"The first time, I was asleep, and he came into my room. At first I thought it was you, but then he came over to the bed and I recognised him. I tried to tell him to leave, that he didn't belong there, that it was wrong, but he wouldn't listen. Then he started kissing me, and touching me. I couldn't stop him. I wanted to, but it felt so good, and I felt…weak, paralysed, like I couldn't move or speak. He had these…glowing eyes, like bright blue. When he looked at me, it was like he was seeing into my soul. Tonight it was mostly the same. Again, I thought I was awake, but I wasn't. I was praying, and he came up behind me. I told him to leave, but he wouldn't. He kept touching me, and I…I couldn't resist him."

Jason buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "Wh-what's wrong with me?" He looked up at Bruce with such anguish that Bruce's heart couldn't help but twist in sympathy. "I never, ever felt this way about anyone, girl or guy. Honest, Father, I ain't never felt this way about sex. It's never felt good before, so I don't know where all this shi-stuff is coming from. I mean, how do you imagine something if you don't even know what it feels like?"

"That's a good question," Bruce said. He could feel a theory forming in the back of his mind, but he didn't like it, and didn't want to bring it up until he had heard more. "You say you've never experienced sex? Not even when you lived on the streets?"

Jason shook his head. "Oh no, Father, I didn't mean that at all. I had sex loads of times, but it never felt any good. Mostly I was just doin' it for a fix. I ain't never…you know…come from it."

Bruce resisted the urge to grimace. It saddened him to think that Jason had had so many negative sexual experiences, and no positive ones to counteract them, and now probably never would. Still, a life dedicated to God was filled with its own joys, and divine love enough to compensate for any tragedy, even, say, the brutal murder of one's parents at the tender age of ten. "So you've never…orgasmed, not even by your own hand?" he asked, tripping over the word as delicately as he could.

Jason looked away, his face flushing. "Well, I guess I have now."

Bruce pressed his lips into a thin, hard line. "Jason, listen to me very carefully. I don't think these dreams are normal. Most people have had the kind of dreams that bring about…nighttime emissions, myself included, and they are, for the most part, pleasant experiences. What you're describing here sounds like someone is forcing something unwanted upon you, and aside from the perceived physical pleasure, these don't seem like pleasant experiences at all. Would you say that's accurate?"

Jason frowned. "I…I wouldn't say he forced it on me, Father. I mean, I wish I could say I fought him, but I didn't, not really," he admitted with a look of chagrin.

"What matters is your intent, and you intended to expel him from your room, did you not?"

"Yeah…yeah, I guess so," Jason said.

Bruce nodded. "To be perfectly candid, I don't think this 'Dick' person is a person at all. I think he may be a demon. In the old literature, beings like him were referred to as incubus (singular), or incubi (plural). The female form, which you've surely heard of, is succubus. They feed on the emotions and sexual energy of humans, usually in the guise of dreams."

Jason snorted, and then outright laughed. "Ok, very funny, haha-"

"I'm not joking," Bruce interrupted.

Jason's smile vanished. "What, like seriously?"

"The way you describe your dreams, the paralysis and inability to speak – these are classic signs of an incubus attack," Bruce explained. "Coupled with the glowing eyes, and the way you can't seem to help yourself around him, I think it's pretty obvious what's happening here. This creature is preying on you, manipulating you and feeding off of you like a parasite."

Jason shook his head. "No, no, that can't be. Dick's a nice guy, honest, and his friend Roy's on the level."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "Outside of your dreams, you can't think of anything sexual in nature that this man's done in your presence to manipulate you? Not a single thing?"

Jason bit his lip and looked away as he remembered the awkward encounter in Dick's dressing room. Had Dick been trying to manipulate him then? It was possible. "Well…"

"I thought so," Bruce said. "Listen to me, Jason. These demons, they're attracted to those with a…loose mind, people who lack discipline. Now, we both know that as a former addict, you have a fundamental lack of self-control. It's very important that you discipline your mind to resist these attacks. You must not allow it free reign, to do with you as it wishes. Do you understand me?"

Jason nodded, his face pale and pinched with terror.

"When it comes for you, you fight it, understand? Don't let it distract you with sexual temptations. Call upon the name of God, if you must. Whatever you do, do not let it feed from you again," Bruce said. "You are locked in a battle now, not just for your mind and body, but for your eternal soul. Once this creature owns your soul, you will forever be damned to the fires of Hell."

Jason shuddered. "I understand."

"Good," Bruce said. "Now come, it's late. We have mass in the morning. I hope I can count on you to help me with it?"

"Yes, of course, Father," Jason said. He hesitated, however, when Bruce tried to herd him towards their bedrooms. "Thank you, Bruce. For listening to me, and…not thinking I'm totally crazy or something."

Bruce gave the boy's shoulder a warm squeeze. "Anytime, Jason. Good night. Remember what I said now."

Jason nodded. "Good night."

Jason lay in his bed for a long time. He was so tense and stiff that he jumped at every creak of the house. Leave it to him to attract a fucking incubus! He was such a worthless, pathetic, weak-willed loser. No wonder it was so easy for Dick to manipulate him. He wondered if Dick was feeding off of Roy, too, but that seemed unlikely. Roy was a great guy, strong, confident, and smart. He was nothing like Jason. Well, maybe Dick wasn't feeding on Roy, at least not like that. Hell, maybe Roy was an incubus too. If Dick could be one, then why not Roy? He sighed. There was no use wondering about these things now. His task was to repel the demon, not ask it personal questions. He would repel it, too. He could stand up to Dick. He could, and he would.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes.

"Jason. Jason!"

Jason snapped awake, his heart in his throat.

"It's all right, it's just me," Bruce said.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. "Did I oversleep? Is it time for mass?"

"No, it's still early yet. Come with me, I want to show you something," Bruce said.

Jason got out of bed and yawned. "Gimme a minute. Let me get some clothes on."

"Now," Bruce barked.

"I can't get dressed?" Jason asked, frowning in consternation at the thought of traipsing through the church in nothing but an undershirt and a thin pair of boxers. It seemed more than a little inappropriate.

"This is of the utmost urgency. It's about the incubus."

Jason was suddenly fully alert. "Show me."

He followed Bruce out of the rectory and into the nave. Bruce led him up onto the dais, where Jason stopped to take in the fact that though the lights were dimmed, there were hundreds of candles lit all over the room. The air was heavy with the scent of beeswax.

"Mmm!"

At the sound, he glanced down into the pews and felt shock ripple through him. Bruce was sitting in the first pew, a piece of duct tape over his mouth and his arms bound behind his back. Jason whirled around just in time to catch the demon's shape transforming from Bruce into Dick.

"Name me," Dick said as he stalked towards Jason. "Go on, I know you want to.

"Incubus!" Jason snarled.

At the word, a pair of dark blue wings sprouted from Dick's back, spreading out behind him in all their leathery, bat-like glory. The incubus laughed then, the sound ringing off the stain-glassed windows in discordant notes. Jason resisted the urge to cringe like a frightened child.

"Very good, Jason. I'm impressed. It's been a long time since anyone's managed to figure it out before I actually told them." It backed Jason up against the lectern, eyes burning with a cold blue light. "So…what will you do now, I wonder?"

"I…I'll reject you," Jason said loudly. "In the name of God, I reject you, demon!"

The incubus snorted. "Really now, Jason, that's hardly going to cut it." It reached up and trailed a hand tipped with razor sharp claws down Jason's chest to cup his balls through the thin material of his cotton boxers. Five tiny pricks let Jason know what would happen if it had a mind to squeeze.

Jason willed himself not to flinch. "What do you want with me?" he demanded.

The incubus grinned, revealing twin rows of pointed teeth. It was disturbing how unbelievably sexy it looked, even now. "I told you before, you are destined to belong to me."

"I belong to God," Jason said. "I am His servant, and His alone. You have no claim on me, demon."

"Poor little priest, so pious, so pure," the incubus mocked. "Do you honestly believe that some all-powerful, omnipotent being pays excruciating attention to your every thought and deed, and what's more, actually cares about you?"

Jason glared at it. "Don't do that."

The creature's eyes took on a sadistic gleam. "Don't do what? Point out the glaring flaws in your so-called faith?" It leaned in for a kiss, presumably, but Jason stopped it with a hand on its chest.

"Stop it," Jason gritted. "You're not going to manipulate me this time."

"Aw, but we were having so much fun," the incubus said. It actually had the nerve to pout at Jason, which was a rather pathetic expression on Dick's face.

"No, we weren't," Jason spat. He wondered briefly if Dick had been a real person, once, or if he had always been this...thing. If he had once been Human, and this creature had stolen his form, it just…it didn't bear thinking about.

"Really?" the incubus said. It slowly massaged Jason's balls in its hands, making him arch back against the lectern. "I think you enjoyed yourself quite a bit." A shock of pure pleasure ripped through Jason, and he gasped, seeing stars.

"Oh God…"

The incubus flipped him around so that he was gripping the lectern and facing the pews, as though he were giving mass. In fact, when he glanced down, he saw that the Bible was open beneath him, probably still open to the passage that Father Bruce had read to the congregation last week. He looked back up and saw the man himself sitting in the pews, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. For a second, he almost broke free of the incubus' hold, but then it licked a wet stripe from the base of his balls up to his asshole, and he moaned loudly, spreading his legs and leaning hard on the lectern to keep from sinking to his knees.

"That's it," the incubus murmured, lavishing its attention on Jason's hole with tongue and fingers that were now mysteriously clawless. Jason shivered, his cock erect and leaking against the lectern despite the disappointment he could read in Bruce's eyes, even from this distance. The humiliation licked at his skin like an actual flame.

"Please…Dick…" Jason begged, though he no longer knew what he was begging for.

"What do you want, pretty? Tell me. I want to hear it from your lips," Dick purred in Jason's ear.

Dick's fingers twisted inside of him and Jason gasped out, "F-fuck me! Please, Oh God…"

"Here, in His holy house, in full sight of God and man?" Dick asked, his fingers curling and flexing inside of Jason in a way that made his entire body shake with pleasure.

"Y-yes," Jason whimpered.

"What was that?" Dick asked, removing his fingers altogether.

Jason cried out at the loss.

"What do you want, Jason, tell me!" the incubus commanded.

"Fuck me!" Jason shouted, heedless of Bruce's dismay, heedless of the saints staring down at him from all sides, from the crucifixions on the walls to the depictions in the stained glass, heedless even of the Bible beneath him, the holy pages stained with his tears. "Fuck me here, now, anywhere, everywhere, just do it!"

He howled in pure ecstasy when the demon finally took him, ramming into him with hard, brutal strokes that claimed his soul surer than any God ever had.

"You belong to me!" Dick growled in his ear.

"Yes, God, yes," Jason panted and then his orgasm hit him, and he screamed, his voice ringing from the rafters as he spilled all over himself and the lectern.

The demon came but seconds later, filling Jason with its hot seed.

Jason woke shouting incoherently. He sat up in the darkness of his bedroom, momentarily disoriented. He clicked on the bedside lamp and struggled to his feet. Looking down, he saw that he had once again messed the front of his boxers. But then…then he felt it. An insidious little tickle on the inside of his thigh as…as the demon's vile seed came leaking out of his ass.

It was real. Dick was a demon, and it was all real, and oh God he was going to Hell!

With a guttural snarl of horror, he ripped the boxers off and wiped frantically at his skin. He began to hyperventilate, his brain turning to static as blind panic overtook him.

His stash, he had to get to his stash. It no longer mattered what he did with himself, because he was damned, damned to burn in Hell for all eternity.

He stumbled blindly through the streets, half dressed in whatever clothing he could find, letting pure instinct take him back to his hiding place again. He turned down an alley and almost ran headlong into someone.

"Hey, watch where you're – Jay?"

Jason pulled up short at the sound of his name. Two figures emerged from the darkness, and he suddenly recognized Travis and Bobby.

"Well if it isn't the little Bible thumper," Travis sneered.

Jason took a step back, but stopped when he felt a knife prick his ribs. He turned to find two more of Travis' gang behind him. Deke was missing, but he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Good, for Deke's sake. Bad, probably, for his sake.

"Where you going looking so…fucked up?" Travis asked, with what sounded like genuine confusion in his voice.

"I don't have time for this," Jason snapped. "Just…fuck off, willya?"

"Or what?" Travis goaded.

"Or this, asshole!" Jason growled right before he punched Travis in the face.

There was a blur of motion, punches thrown, body blows connecting, and then Jason felt the knife slip between his ribs. With a startled cry, he crumpled onto the dirty concrete.

"Fucking cunt," someone snarled, spitting on Jason. Someone else kicked him in the back, though he barely felt it. And then they were gone, the slapping of sneakered feet fading away into the night.

Jason gasped raggedly, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. It was likely that the blade had punctured his lung. At least his death would be quick. He stared at the ground, saw a slowly spreading pool of darkness beneath his body, and felt cold despair wash over him. Maybe Dick would visit him in Hell.

Epilogue

"How's he doing?" Dick asked. He slipped into the bedroom he shared with Roy and closed the door behind him.

Roy looked up at him with an unreadable expression. "Still sleeping. It's a good thing we found him when we did. We almost lost him."

Dick could tell immediately that his sclav was upset, could sense the complex emotions churning through him. He resisted the urge to savour the tart, tantalizing taste of Roy's hurt and confusion. Though he was able to feed on all strong emotions, not just happy or sexual ones, he didn't particularly enjoy the taste of the more negative emotions. Some Incubi did, but then again, some Humans enjoyed causing pain to others as well.

"Yes, we did," he agreed. He sat down on the other side of the bed, with Jason's sleeping form curled between them.

"Did you know he was an addict?" Roy asked. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists against his thighs. "And the warehouse, was that…did you know he was going to do that? Did you purposely drive him to-"

Dick made a dismissive noise, and reached out to soothe Roy with a touch. "The important thing is that we stopped him."

Roy recoiled from him. "You did know!" he accused. "Is that why…why…" He stood abruptly and backed away from the bed, the horror plain on his face.

Dick reigned in a sigh. He should never have allowed Roy to accompany him on the hunt, to witness his methods so intimately. He just…well, he'd admittedly been too focused on the thrill of the chase, and the giddy intoxication caused by Jason's wildly vacillating emotions, to stop to consider how this might affect Roy. Not that he needed Roy's permission to take on another sclav, but he did care about Roy's feelings, and regretted any pain he may have caused him.

"Of course not," Dick said. He got up to crowd Roy against the bureau, the proximity forcing the Human to breathe in his pheromones. "Every person is different, unique. I didn't seek him out because his addiction presented an exploitable weakness – it just happened to be the case. It was the same with you. I didn't target you because of your addiction, I wanted to be with you because I fell in love with you." He didn't mention that he hadn't needed to know about their specific circumstances, that addictive personalities like Roy and Jason were easily identified, attractive like the choicest prey to a hungry predator. Not only were they easy to manipulate, but they made excellent thralls, being generally both loyal and affectionate – if handled correctly, that is.

Roy looked down. "Yeah, right," he muttered.

"Hey, look at me," Dick said, tilting Roy's chin up with a finger. He turned up the dial on his hypnotic gaze. Just a little, not too much or Roy would suspect he was being manipulated, and that would just defeat the purpose. "I love you. This doesn't change any of that. Understand?"

Roy's eyes glazed over slightly as he leaned involuntarily into Dick's touch. "Yeah. I…I love you, too."

"I know, ves'tacha. I can feel it here," Dick said with a hand over his heart. He gave Roy a slow, lingering kiss. "You will help him, won't you? You'll care for him, and love him, as you love me, and I love you?"

Roy flicked a glance over to the bed, and his gaze softened. He nodded wordlessly.

Dick smiled, channeling all of his warmth and affection into the expression. Roy responded accordingly, as Dick knew he would, and they were just "rounding second base" as the Americans liked to say, when they were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door.

Dick broke away with a sigh. "Come in."

Dick's mother let herself into the room a second later. She cast Jason a disdainful look before fixing the full force of her maternal ire on Dick.

"Haven't you got enough pets?" she demanded with a gesture in Roy's direction.

"Hey, I'm right-"

"Can you give us a minute?" Dick cut Roy off with a meaningful look.

Roy muttered something under his breath, but he quickly ceded the room to them. When Dick's mother was unhappy about something, it never boded well for anyone in the vicinity, regardless of his or her involvement in the issue at hand.

"Honestly, Richard, a priest?" his mother hissed as soon as the door had closed behind Roy. "You know how much I hate those xenocidal zealots. Our kind hasn't tangled with the Church in centuries, and I will not have you antagonizing them. We have lived in peace these last two hundred years, and I do not wish to return to being persecuted, hunted like animals, chased from town to town and burned out of our own homes!"

Dick groaned. "I was careful! I even wiped the parish priest's memories afterwards. No one will know. Everyone will just think he relapsed, and died of an overdose somewhere on the streets. Those street thugs might even spread a rumour that they killed him. Either way, no one's going to come looking for him."

"Be that as it may, you can't possibly think that you can trust him. Nothing is so important to these fanatics as their so-called God, and in case you've forgotten, they consider our kind demons. To this day, the Jesuits still stop at nothing to destroy us. How could you bring something like that into our midst?"

"He's different, Mother," Dick said. "He would never betray me, I know it."

His mother sneered at him, making it quite clear what she thought of that. "Anyway, why would you even need another one?" she asked, switching tacks abruptly. "You've got Roy, and as far as I can see, you're happy, healthy and well fed."

"But look at him," Dick said plaintively, gesturing at Jason's sleeping form. "Isn't he adorable? Besides, it's too much of a drain on Roy sometimes. If I feed on him too often, he can't perform his act, and then the circus loses money, etc. etc."

"You coddle him too much," his mother snapped. "It's never stopped your father from performing."

"Yeah well, what can I say, Dad's amazing," Dick said blandly. "Come on, just look at him." He reached down to sweep Jason's hair back from his face. "He's so kind, and generous, and responsive, and I know you can't see it now, but he has the most beautiful eyes." He smiled down at Jason, taking his slack hand in his. "This world hasn't been kind to him, and I just…I want to give him everything he never had."

His mother heaved a sigh. "I can see there's no reasoning with your infatuation. Fine, keep your plaything, but if I even suspect that this is going to turn against us, you are going to dump that pitiful creature on its master's doorstep, and we are leaving the Americas for good, do you understand me?"

"If he becomes a problem, I'll deal with him myself," Dick said. "On my life, I swear it."

Much later, long after the lights were out, Dick laid himself down on the bed, slotting himself neatly between his Humans. On one side, Roy snored softly into his ear, pale, lightly freckled skin glowing in the moonlight as his fiery locks curled messily into his eyes. On the other side lay Jason, silent, dark hair swept back to reveal a troubled frown gracing his brow, as though even in sleep, he could find no peace.

"Relax, ves'tacha," he murmured. "You belong to me now. No one will ever harm you again. You have my word."

Jason sighed softly at the sound of his voice. As Dick continued to soothe him, carding his long fingers through Jason's hair, Jason's expression gradually smoothed until he was sleeping serenely.

Closing his eyes, Dick whispered, "I love you" into Jason's ear before he finally drifted off himself, warm and secure in the arms of his beloved Humans.

Notes:

sclav - slave (Romani)
ves'tacha - beloved, a term of great affection (Romani)

(I got these off random websites so feel free to correct me if you're some sort of language expert, because I'm definitely not!)

Thanks to everyone who read and liked/reviewed my fic! I must admit I was rather wary of posting this, given its rushed nature as an exchange fic, as well as its being a somewhat controversial rendition of the trope. Not sure I achieved all I set out to, but I wanted to write it in a hyper-realistic fashion, with regard to both religious beliefs and rapey demons, but in such a way that no judgment was attached to any character as a result of his/her beliefs or affiliations. No character is inherently good or evil, and all sometimes act in ways that are morally ambiguous. Or if they haven't yet, then they will in the sequel...which I plan to write at some point!