Started as a prompt from Tumblr, "He had never noticed a door there before." It gets weird, folks. This is what happens when you write Bat-fic at one in the morning after reading copious amounts of House of Leaves.
It's Dick, although it's never stated, so it could be any of the adopted Robins. (I leave out Steph, because I think she escaped this sort of...well, you'll see.)
12/11/12
He'd only lived in the house for a few months, but still, a house is a house, no matter the size and he'd have been damned if he didn't investigate every nook and cranny on moving in.
That's why this whole business seemed so...uncanny. In six months of nearly endless searches and meanderings, he had never noticed a door there before.
It's not exactly something someone would notice, but it's not something that was being kept hidden, either. He'd never been forbidden from going in the study and no one had ever made any sort of show of keeping him away from the clock. It was just unsettling to see the clock swung open slightly, a slight draft wafting up from the dark recesses beyond the light of the room. It made him uneasy, but he'd never been one to avoid a good mystery.
It was a matter of pride.
It was his weakness.
It was his downfall.
He crept to the clock/door and peered into the opening. There were stairs that came up to the floor he stood on, but they quickly disappeared into the blackness. He leaned forward and took a shaky breath, the cold from the new space shocking his lungs.
It was frighteningly cold down there.
Trembling slightly, he took a step forward, tentatively stepping onto the first stair.
It held.
A step to the next.
Still good.
With newfound courage, he walked further down the stairs, trying his hardest to see into the pitch darkness. It seemed to be growing, getting darker and darker as he descended. He just reached the tenth step when he heard a disquieting thud from behind him.
He froze.
Slowly, he turned, knowing exactly what he'd find, but praying he was wrong.
The clock had shut.
He was alone in the darkness.
Steeling himself, he turned back to his original destination. He hadn't noticed any handles on the back of the clock and he highly doubted he could get back up that way no matter what he did. And, even if he did make it out, he still wouldn't know where the stairs led.
Satisfaction brought the cat back, right?
He crawled down the stairs, taking them as slowly and safely as he could. The blackness of the–room? cave? Hell?–was too strong for his eyes to adjust. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the base of the stairs.
It felt like Earth.
It felt like death.
He made a wide sweep of the ground around him to check its solidity, then stood.
It was cold.
It was damp.
It moaned.
His breath caught in his throat. Maybe it was the echo, maybe it was the way the wind swirled around him, maybe it was the darkness.
Maybe it was a demon.
Too terrified to move, he closed his eyes, trying to still his heart and silence his mind. It was just his imagination, that's all, nothing more. He was just letting it get to him, letting it play tricks on him, letting it–
Hot breath blew against his cheek.
He sobbed.
Something was here with him, some demon standing behind him, waiting to devour him.
He prayed.
Inhuman fingers brushed his face, lightly wiping away his tears.
He exhaled.
Strong arms wrapped around him and dry lips brushed his ear.
"You shouldn't be here," the demon whispered.
He nodded.
"You can't go back."
Again.
"Stay with me."
He felt the lips move down his jaw line to his neck, mouthing the tender skin.
He shivered.
"Stay with me."
He felt the bite before it happened.
And the dark grew darker.
And the cold grew colder.
And the cave didn't feel so threatening anymore.
And he wasn't alone.
He would never be alone again.