A/N: Okay, let's make one thing clear: I never recovered from Damian Wayne's death. Like, ever. It just felt… useless to me. No matter how badass Damian was, he was only a TEN YEAR OLD KID. What was the point? To make Bruce even more miserable? Well, then they've accomplished their goal, because I doubt many things will be able to get to him now that his biological son is dead. Man, it's been a whole year. Hard to believe, right? Well, in the spirit of Damian's death anniversary (*eye twitch*), I wrote this little piece up in order to further propel my denial of his absence. I hope all you fans who are deep into denial with me enjoy!

And if I get some details wrong… I apologize. I comic-jump. I haven't read all of the comics featuring Damian (though that is my goal), but I did read his last appearance and I did do my research. So I should be good. :)

The raven-haired, newly twelve year old boy walks up to the magnificent house he once lived in, sighing heavily. He missed this old place, maybe more than he'd be willing to admit. More likely, he missed the people who reside inside its walls. Though he puts up the persona of a dark loner who would rather be on his own that have to share a home, he really did miss his family. Yes, his family. He's finally recognized that fact. These people are his family.

And Damian can't wait to see them again.

His 'death' was a ruse cleverly devised by him in order to go into hiding. He knew his mother would not stop until he was dead and his clone was the last standing brother of the al Ghul family. The dead body was one of the many other clones his mother had made of him when he was still with her. It was one of the ones used in case he was to suffer severe injuries to his internal organs and needed a replacement.

He was in fact stabbed, but not fatally. It was something he anticipated. So it was easy for him to leave the already dead clone in Robin garb there on the ground before fleeing off into the night. It was cruel, he knows, to let his family believe he really did die in that battle. Especially Father. Right when they were becoming close, he had to leave without so much as a goodbye besides that note he typed up beforehand. It was Jason Todd all over again, something he knows Father dreaded and went out of his way to make sure never happened.

And what of Grayson? The older man had become his mentor, his beloved older brother. He was one of the few people Damian trusted completely. He was the complete opposite of Damian in every way; energetic, loving, funny, lighthearted. He loved his little brother. Damian's 'death' must have devastated him. Especially considering he was knocked out beforehand. Knowing Grayson, he probably pinned the death on himself.

Dumbass…

Now, his mission is finally accomplished. The Heretic has been eliminated and his mother… Well, let's just say that she won't be bothering him for a while. He made sure. No, he didn't kill her. He does not kill anymore. Not since his time with Father. And now he can finally return home without endangering his life and the life of his family. These thoughts swirl around in his head as he finally works up the nerve to knock on the massive oak doors. Nervousness builds in him. He scoffs at the butterflies in his stomach. He was raised to be a cold blooded killer, fought alongside the Batman, survived a sword that supposedly 'killed' him, and defeated an aged, carbon copy of himself. And he's scared of this? He must be losing the al Ghul-Wayne touch.

He waits impatiently at the doorstep until the door begins to open. He already knows who will be behind the doors: Alfred. Sure enough, when the doors finally open, there stands the family butler exactly the way Damian remembers him. Well, besides some more wrinkles on his face Damian is sure he caused. A little more guilt piles on him with that thought.

Damian gives Alfred an impish grin just like he used to as a devious ten year old, running around the manor and making the butler's job pure hell. The old man takes a few moments to realize fully that he's seeing the dead Damian Wayne staring back at him. When it settles in, he looks completely bewildered at the presence of the thought to be dead boy. He pales as if he's just seen a ghost. Damian just grins wider and raises an eyebrow in amusement.

"Well, Pennyworth, if you're done staring at me like an idiot, would it be too much to let me go inside?"

Alfred stutters for a few more moments, still completely dumbfounded. Damian can sense his thoughts. He's supposed to be dead. Yet here he is, on the front steps of the manor, looking the exact same, except maybe a little taller. Damian makes a mental note to explain this all later. But for now, he's going to leave that subject alone. He just got back, and he's not going to explain anything. Not right now.

It occurs to him that maybe Alfred thinks this is all a ploy devised by his mother, that this isn't really Damian. After all, how could it be? Alfred thought he saw Damian's body. He searches for the right words to show that it's really him, not another clone.

"So, Pennyworth…." Damian begins, struggling for words. "Did you take care of Titus and the other animals while I was away?"

These words seem to make Alfred snap to attention. Everyone knows how much Damian loves his animals. He had a whole zoo of them, including the dog – Titus –, cats, a 'Bat-Cow', and more. Now there's no doubt about it. This is the actual Damian. It has to be. Talia can be a convincing woman, but she never bothered to really look into her son. She would never know about his intense love of his animals. The idea that this was a ploy of hers was thrown out the minute he said that.

"Master Damian…" Alfred stumbles, unsure on how to proceed. Damian just gives his usual cocky grin and sidesteps Alfred, entering his former home. No, scratch that. It never ceased to be his home. He just took a very long vacation. Yeah, we'll just call it that. A vacation.

The manor looks exactly as it did the last time Damian saw it two years before. It's like it was suspended in time, like he never left to begin with. He briefly wonders if Father did anything to his room. His plain room, with one single bed against the wall, a nightstand next to it containing a journal of drawings. Did Father throw out Damian's possessions? Or did he leave everything exactly the same as a way to remember him by? Damian scowls just thinking about his things being thrown in the garbage. If his journal and katana are missing, he's going to have to have a word with someone.

"Hey Alfie, who was at the door?" a groggy voice from the stairs calls. Damian turns on his heels away from a still dumbfounded Alfred, looking up towards the grand staircase. He recognizes that voice. That voice could never be erased from his memory, even after not hearing it for these long two years. He gives a rare smile as he watches Richard Grayson descend the stairs in a white tee shirt and lounge pants, looking like he just rolled out of bed at three in the afternoon.

Dick finally reaches the last stair, his eyes downcast to adjust to the light and scratching at his bedhead. Damian smirks as he looks him over. He should have expected this in retrospect. Of course he's sleeping until an obscenely late hour. He probably stayed up until 5 in the morning patrolling Bludhaven and stubbornly refusing Batman's assistance.

Dumbass.

"Nice to see you join the land of the living, Grayson," Damian remarks, making light of his own situation. Suddenly, all movement in Dick stops. His hand freezes in his hair. His body stiffens. His head stays downcast. Slowly, he raises it up, like he's scared of what he's about to see. His striking blue eyes meet Damian's gray-blue, and Damian can see them widen. He pales, like he's just seen a ghost. Damian gets the urge to roll his eyes. What is it with people equating with him a ghost today? But that urge is smothered by the unexpected urge to run to Dick and wrap him up in a giant bear hug like the ones that Damian used to be an unwilling participant in.

Dick slowly approaches Damian like he's a wild animal. It's almost like he's scared Damian will disappear, and this will all turn out to be a cruel dream of his. Slowly, Dick places a hand on Damian's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. His eyes widen even more. Damian raises his eyebrows. What did Grayson expect? For his hand to go through his shoulder? This ghost thing is getting old fast.

"Are you dense, Grayson? I'm not a damned ghost. They don't exist. Now will you just say something already?"

That's all it takes for Dick to wrap his little brother up in a tight hug.

Dick picks Damian up of the ground like he weighs nothing more than a baby and crushes him to his chest, resting his cheek on top of Damian's head. Damian feels himself losing air from his older brother's tight grip, but he can't bring himself to care. He's missed this more than he's willing to admit. Grayson's hugs were frequent, and often Damian would wiggle and squirm while threatening him in a variety of colorful ways that almost always involved chopping of Grayson's, um, nearest extremity. But he's not that boy anymore. He wraps his arms around Dick's middle as far as they will go, as his former mentor swings him around happily like a young child with a doll.

"Dami! Oh my god, I can't believe it! You're here! You're alive! It isn't a dream this time!"

Damian decides not to question the 'this time' part and just hugs back fiercely. He knows that if Dick were thinking logically, he would probably demand some sort of DNA test to make sure this wasn't some sort of trick, but Damian decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dick's embrace feels warm and reassuring, just like he remembered. Ah, he's missed this.

"I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do, don't I?" Damian says, his voice muffled by Dick's shirt.

"I don't care how you got back here," Dick insists. "I just care that I have my Dami back."

Damian groans in fake annoyance at the embarrassing nickname.

"Grayson, I told you not to address me by such a childish moniker."

Dick pulls back and looks at Damian, shaking his head with a giant smile splitting his face.

"Two years later and you're the same smartass as before, huh?"

Damian gets the same arrogant grin on his face and nods proudly. No matter what happens, no matter how old he gets, he's still the same witty smartass as he's always been.

A sudden thought occurs to him, and he forces himself to break away from Dick's comforting hug.

"Grayson, where are Father and Drake?"

A/N: So I'm sorry if you don't like the way Damian came back.

Wait, no, I take that back. I'm not. I utilized the best method I had without use of the Lazarus Pit. I wanted Damian's death to be faked, not real but reversed. Damian wouldn't want to be brought back that way.

Stay tuned for more fluff!