Well, here's how Dick spent Christmas. remember I warned you things would get a little rough. *evil cackle*

Dick-16/17 Jason-13 Cass-11/12 Tim-9 Damian-3

Sacrifice

6 – X-Mas Nightmare

December 25th. Christmas. And what was Dick's present from the psychopath who took him captive through very effective blackmail? Blue skies above him, thick trees and snow around him, and a tablet with a recorded video feed of his family the previous night. They still hadn't discovered the cameras in the manor. They didn't know how dangerously close they were to being discovered as being the greatest supporters of the Justice League or that Bruce was Batman. The study was one room Slade didn't have a camera. He recognized every room they were in, and each of them were public areas open to people during parties. The last one they had at the manor was in early November, a charity function. They weren't required to attend it for very long so he didn't remember the guest list. No wonder they hadn't realized Slade was there back then.

Watching his family now, the teen could tell he was missed. Damian was the only one really smiling as they put gifts for each other under the tree. But even his smile faded when he looked around expectantly. Tim didn't even try to hide smaller gifts in the tree's branches like usual. Cass was making herself as small as possible in her favorite chair, looking over to where an FBI agent was posted at the phone. Jason was trying to lift people's spirits with carols, but failed to lift his own. He could read his lips trying to sing 'Mele Kalikimaka', only to bite them shut. Alfred bustled around the room, offering tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to everyone in there, if only to keep himself busy.

And Bruce? He was often looking out the window, searching for something that wasn't there. In one hand was his phone, having finished a call with someone, one of many no doubt. The worry on his face was evident in every crinkle, in every random white hair he had on his head. His clothes looked like they were worn a few days in a row, and with the dark circles under his eyes, he wouldn't be surprised if he had.

'The League's probably looking for me now,' Dick thought idly, keeping his gaze on his family on the screen. 'Probably trying to keep in contact with them above ground, get more info if they have any. Can they have any? Slade did a pretty thorough job getting me lost out here. And where's Selina? Bruce could really use her right now. Don't tell me she ran again. Uhg. Just what we need; two disappearing acts during the holidays.'

He looked back to his siblings, spotting one of the rashes Slade mentioned before. Cass had hers on the back of her neck, right next to where her brainstem would be. It was small and faded compared to the lady at the warehouse's, but it was still there. He remembered his sister scratching the thing about a month back. Why hadn't he suspected anything wrong back then!

The big brother's thoughts ended when he saw Damian trip over one of the packages. Everyone jerked forward to help him when he fell, including himself. The three year old screamed and cried, probably tired more than hurt, on the floor for a second before Tim of all people came to his side and picked him up. He watched as the two youngest held on to each other for a moment then realized Tim was imitating what he did whenever the two had fallen in the past: picking them up, holding them close, and rubbing their backs and swaying in time to whatever music was playing. For once Damian was holding onto Tim, sad and tired, but not fighting him. They were actually getting along.

"Good job you two," Dick murmured softly, proud of them. He continued to watch them fondly as Bruce came over with the bat-blanket the toddler liked and wrapped his youngest up in his arms. Jason gave Tim a supportive pat on the back as they started to disperse from the room. It was Christmas Eve after all, they had to get some sleep.

Alfred lingered in the room with the agent, looking at one particular set of gifts around the tree. Sadness peeked out of the Brit's features, despite all his training to mask it. Those were the presents they found in his room. The ones he was going to pick up earlier would have been sent to the manor that afternoon if he forgot to. Receiving them must have sent new waves of worry through them. At least they knew Dick was thinking of them before disappearing.

"Time's up apprentice."

The acrobat took a slow long breath to try and calm his already racing, aching heart, before passing the tablet back over his shoulder. His master took it then passed it behind him to Wintergreen. Dick kept his back turned to the man, sitting on a rock a little ways away from their camp.

It was an abandoned military training camp. The reason why was unclear, but it gave them shelter, a generator, running water, and plenty of firewood to keep them warm. Well, if the one-eyed psycho would let him be warm. That uniform he was wearing wasn't very well insulated. But something about this place made the winter cold bearable. There wasn't much snow at the least. It was why Dick had gone outside to see his family instead of staying indoors. Besides, he absolutely hated the company.

"I have another gift for you apprentice," Slade started, stepping around him to make them look at each other, face to face.

"Unless it's the detonator and my freedom, I'm not interested." He turned away, glaring hate at the ground. In the past few days he learned he could get away with a little sass every once in a while. Attempts to grab the detonator were even acceptable, and expected. Every sparing session they had he would try to grab it. Maybe if he hung around Selina more he would have learned to pick the guy's pockets for it, but he hadn't and every attempt gave him new bruises. And he had collected quite a few.

The man chuckled, amused by his antics. This was why he was allowed to be sassy: Slade thought it was funny. "No, I'm afraid not. You're not ready for that quite yet. This though, you will be."

Despite himself, the acrobat took the box the man passed to him and started to open it. As soon as he saw what was inside, he panicked and threw it as far away from him as possible, box and all. He jumped to his feet, leaping away from the thing in rage and fear. How could he…

The assassin chuckled to himself, highly amused. "It's only a gun apprentice. Not a bomb, a contagious disease, or a snake. Only a gun."

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" A gun. Just a gun. They weren't even allowed to talk about guns around Bruce! No squirt guns, nerf guns, popguns, B.B. guns, or even gun related games were allowed in the manor. Rule 2 was one no one dared to break on purpose, especially around Bruce (well, Jason occasionally did, but he avoided doing so around Bruce). Guns ended lives! A gun killed Jason's father. Tim's dad had a gun when he was killed, taking his murderer down with him. Cass was regularly shot by her biological father. Then there were Bruce's parents. And how many times had a gun been pointed at him and the others? Guns were never good. Batman hated them.

"Are you that afraid of something so useful?" Slade sounded quite amused by his outburst.

"I am NOT USING THAT!" He pointed vehemently at the firearm, shaking slightly. He couldn't… he wouldn't! He was not capable of killing, of using that thing!

"Do you really think you have a choice in the matter, apprentice?" A slight edge entered the man's voice, driving icy daggers into the boy's chest. He fingered the pocket holding the trigger for the probes, making the boy turn white, breathing uneven. Slowly Dick closed his eyes, the fight leaving him. He shook his head, cringing away but not moving anywhere. Slade smirked behind his mask. "Good. Now be a good boy and pick up your gift."

Slowly he obeyed, hearing Bruce's disapproving voice in his head the entire time. Maybe it was all of that man's lectures conditioning him to react that way to the horrid weapon, but he still couldn't stand the feel of it in his hands. Cold and heavy, so very different from his weapons of choice. Batarangs and escrima sticks were his personal favorites, dull and required more skill. If Batman could see him with that thing now, he'd be highly disappointed in him.

"Wayne never taught you how to hold one of these has he?" Dick bit his lip at Slade's comment before shaking his head. Guns and Bruce usually did not go in the same sentence. Exasperated, the assassin came to his side and repositioned his hands to hold it correctly, even at rest. "Pathetic man. I taught my sons that when they were five."

"Don't call him pathetic."

"What was that? Apprentice?"

He wanted to take back that remark immediately after saying it. Some sass was allowed. A lot of it could mean punishment. But he already started, may as well finish. "He saw his parents die because of one of these things. Can you really blame him for not wanting anything to do with them? It takes a lot of courage to stand up again after something like that."

"You continue on a trapeze," Slade shot back, not impressed.

"Falling was part of the job," Dick rebutted, turning towards him with a clenched jaw. "And they'd be upset if I quit just because they fell, no matter the circumstances. His dad was a surgeon. Guns aren't part of the job description. There's a difference."

"And yet he still fears them," not impressed.

"He's not scared of them!" He jerked away from the man, glaring daggers despite still having the weapon in his hands. "He just knows what they can do and has compassion enough not to use them!"

"And in turn convinces you to fear them." Still not impressed. "A coward."

"You're one to talk!" Anger boiled inside him alongside his fear. "Blackmailing me by holding four kids' lives in your hands! Trying to teach me how to be like you when I'd rather die! Badmouthing someone who'd take in five kids he never met before without question or reason! Hiding behind that pathetic excuse for a mask! Probably can't even face your own kids because of your career! You're the definition of a coward Slade!"

His ranting was cut off by a sharp slap across his face. Dick always had a problem stopping his mouth when he was angry. Said one word too much. He knew the man was glaring death upon him now. Must have hit a particularly bad spot. The teen kept his eyes on the ground, trying to control his breathing. He forgot for a moment what was really on the line there.

Slade took the gun away from him before saying a single word more. "You're clearly forgetting how things work around here apprentice. Run around the fence, and keep going until I say otherwise. Now."

He didn't need another invitation. Instantly the acrobat was running to the wire fence around the base and started running alongside it. Anything was better than having to be near that man. If he were anything like him, he would have just shot him with that gun instead of yelled at him. But if he shot him, he'd be no better than Slade. And one thing he didn't want to be was him.

Dick nearly collapsed, exhausted from running. Slade hadn't told him to stop for nearly three hours! PE had him run forty minutes before, but they built up to it. Bruce and he would go jogging for an hour during the summers once, and later as he grew up and debated playing for different sports teams he kept it up, but never had he run that long at that pace! Dripping in sweat and shivering from the cold, he wondered what the point was of running that long.

Oh yeah, he called Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the Terminator, a coward. Well he earned it. He called Bruce pathetic.

"Get over here apprentice," the assassin ordered, pointing to one part of the lot. The ground was mostly concrete there, making the acrobat wonder what he was planning next. Slade didn't stop him for any one reason. There was always more than one. Shakily the teen obeyed, gasping for air. Wasn't it about time he had some water?

Apparently not. Glaring at him, his master barked an order. "Strip."

"Wh… what?" He couldn't be serious.

"You smell." The glare remained firm in his one eye. "Strip."

The man's hand went to that pocket, making Dick stiffen. Great. Glaring at him now, he started taking off the uniform the man forced on him earlier that week. There were no clothes or coverings to replace these one nearby. Wintergreen wasn't even around. He was not going to like this.

The teenager stopped short of his underwear and undershirt, shivering in the December air. A harder edge entered Slade's voice. "All of it."

"You've got to be—"

"NOW!"

'Pervert.' Still glaring at him, probably more now, he removed what was left then buckled over as a cramp started in his back and legs. Warm muscles being suddenly exposed to freezing temperatures did not react well.

"On your feet apprentice."

'Nazi.' Clenching his teeth and slowly stretching out his muscles to alleviate the pain, he returned to a standing position. Just in time to see a fire hose in Slade's opposite hand, ready for use. 'Huh?'

"It's time for your shower."

"Wha—NO!"

Realizing what was happening too late, he threw his hands in front of him defensively just before the water shot forward at him. The pressure of it threw him against the chain-link fence behind him, further bruising his muscles. He cried out in pain and agony as the water hit him, moving up and down his body. He tried to get away, tried to evade the spray, but Slade's aim was true the entire time. His moving around only made it possible for the evil creature to torment his entire body. Desperate for some stability, he gripped the fence and felt the cold metal rip into his skin. He let go after a moment and slid down to the concrete slab beneath him, just taking the pressure and the pain accompanying it.

He huddled on the ground for maybe a minute, shivering and trying not to cry out in pain as the water hit him before it stopped. Once it ended, the winter chill struck him with more force than it had when was buried in snow back home. Shivering took control immediately. This… this was too cruel. Why did he…

A towel was thrown over him. Not a large one, but not one of the dinky kinds either. "Dry up and get inside. We're not done for today yet. Don't bother getting dressed, they need cleaning."

Slade turned away, tossing the hose aside as he headed back into the bunker they were using at the moment. Dick just shivered here in the cold, one hand on the towel covering him. Why… Why was this happening to him?! What did he do to deserve this?! Why had Slade…

Even with the cold seeping into his body, the horror filled daggers striking his heart were worse. If he hadn't shown off, none of this would have happened. And now lives depended on him cooperating with a mad man. That meant living. Slowly he broke from his private huddle and started wiping himself off. He had to get dry then go inside. That's all that mattered at the moment. Get dry, get inside. Get dry, get inside. Survive.

Oh, and Merry Christmas.

A/N: I had to think of a way to torture Dick without causing long term physical damage. I saw them doing this to Jared on Pretender and thought it was pretty effective. Course there will be other things he'll go through, breaking him down *evil laugh* but this will be a huge barrier he'll have to over come later. Also eventually Dick will have no choice but to learn how to use a gun, no matter how much he hates it. Reference to Slade's boys was fun too.

So we have the Waynes thoroughly miserable at Christmas and some family bonding midst trouble. Jason's not the only one stepping up in the big brother department and it kinda mends some bridges at the same time. One or two of my siblings used to hide presents in the tree, so I had Tim do it. he's the sneaky one after all. If you're wondering where Selina is or what's the League doing, everything will be answered in time. You won't really see Damian's reactions because for the most part he's three and isn't catching everything that's going on. In the extended, we'll have them explaining that he's gone for a while. Just don't know where to place it yet.

Rambling. Laters.