Author's Note: Haha, yes, me here again. SORRY for the long lag in updating. To tell you the truth, (I'm on chapter six with writing, so that's not the issue) I am not liking how this story is turning out. It seems too much dialogue, too much explination. Argh. But I'm too lazy to change it. The mark of a mediocre writer I suppose. I often thought of abandoning it, taking it off, starting a different story, but I figured I owed it a shot. So here is my ATTEMPT to write a good, meaningful piece. The idea of the end was its saving grace, because I have that all planned out. It's just a question of getting there, and if you can stick through that, you can stick through anything ;-)

Chapter One: The Nameless One and the Ghost

Name: Tim "Robin" Drake
Activities: Leader of the Teen Titans.
Best School Memory: Foiling Slade for the last time. That's gotta be the best.
Favorite Band: Staind, Goo Goo Dolls
What You'll Miss Most: Friends– My life source.
Often Caught Saying: "Titans, GO!"
Favorite Quote: "A useless life is an early death."– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Fifteen years later...

She looked behind her, seeing if he was following. But he was being a good little demon hunter and she smiled, gleefully. She couldn't see him, but she felt him, he was there. He was drawn to her. Eventually, the shadow would step out from the darkness that became him and into the light in order to save it. He will be the fabled Robin of the past once more to take on an evil only a pure child's heart can conquer. But she'd had enough of the cliches. And she'd had enough of running.

She jumped up onto the nearest roof and with her tuned ears she listened to his grappling hook follow her up. She walked to the middle of the roof and raised her arms out like wings, turning around in a circle, her pale hair shining like white gold in the pallid glow of the moon. She began to chuckle, sounding eerily insane. Eventually, she stopped and faced him head on with her violate eyes and a knowing grin.

"Come out, little black bird, I know where you hide."

"Oh?" said a voice in mock surprise as a dark figure stepped out of the blackness that shrouded him. "And where would that be?"

Her smile broadened. "In time," she said. "In the memories you refuse to remember, or to forget."

"Ah, I see, you don't speak English," said the dark hero. "So tell me, which dimension are you from, sweetheart?"

She took a deep breath and parted her lips, bearing her fangs. "I come from no dimension. I serve she that is time. I bear her message."

"Chrona," he whispered, almost disappointed as he looked down and to the side. "And what does Lady Time want with me?"

"She speaks the ancient tongue of the future," she whispered. She closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the sky, a pleasurable smile crossing her features. "Aaaah... I can hear her now."

There was an odd silence as the hero stared at her.

"That's, uh, great and all, that you can hear her, but what does she want with me?" the hero asked.

She inclined her head towards him, her violate eyes shining and her fangs glittering. "She calls to you too," she said. "She calls you by your true name."

"I have no true name," the man spat, angrily.

"Ah, we all have true names," she said. "Even I. I am kalacta'a; she who wails."

"A banshee," said the demon hunter with a sigh. "Of course. One of Chrona's shrieking messengers. So, just tell me the time and place so I can get things in order. Just don't tell me how, because that's something I don't want to know."

The banshee nodded. "You do not fear death," she noted.

The demon hunter pushed back his shoulders and took a deep breath. "I don't talk much either."

"Foolish human," she laughed. "I have not sung your requiem. Not yet. You have much to do before she sends me to hum your hymn. You serve a greater purpose than just to live. It has been foretold. You are not part of the human world. But you must save it."

"I save it every damn day," he said. "And I'm getting bored. So..." and he drew his sword, "I'll give you five seconds to convince me not to cut your head off."

"The demon child was right, you will never learn patience. And you will never know love."

In an instant, the angry human was at the beast's throat with his blade, breathing heavily from the fury that fueled him. "You're not doing a very good job of keeping yourself alive, are you?"

"Ah, the kalacta'a struck a nerve... You are weak when it comes to the child," said the creature, not looking alarmed in the least.

"She is no child," hissed Robin.

"No," said the creature, her smile gone. "She never really was. No one ever let her be one. Which is why she turned."

"You're five seconds are up," said the hero as he pressed the sword against her jugular. The banshee merely cackled. In a nanosecond she was behind him and he had to blink.

"Silly human," she said. "You do not know what you are dealing with. Strange how the fate of the world rests in your naive hands and your hands alone. You must contact the demon. Persuade her to your side again, as you once did years ago, and fight beside her."

"Why would she ever go for that plan..." said the hero, sounding bitter.

The banshee smiled and caressed his cheek. "To preserve everything you strive to protect. And to destroy everything she strives to defeat. You share a common interest."

"What's going on?" the hero asked, at last realizing a larger picture. The creature smiled mysteriously.

"You must call the demon. And then, you must find the broken spirit and join with him. He is less dead than you think."

"Broken spirit?" the demon hunter interrupted. "What are you... Oh."

"Together," the banshee continued, unwavering, "the three of you will overcome the growing darkness. Chrona is on your side, she does not wish for the darkness to win."

"Let me get this straight..." said the hero. "You want me to find Raven and Cyborg. And you expect them to just join me for some unknown cause fighting some unknown evil for a damn unseen time demon?"

"Chrona is no demon," said the banshee. "She brings life. She brings light. And she is everywhere."

"Whatever," said the hero, rolling his eyes. "I'm tired. I'm going home." He turned his back and began to walk away from her, paused, then spun around and sliced the demon's head off.

Returning to the dilapidated tower seemed harder than normal that night. He looked at the tattered newspaper clippings that covered the walls of the old living room, which was hardly a room to be lived in now. "Teen Titans Save the Day Again," or "Robin Leads Another Successful Mission." He smiled wanly at them, old memories he tried so hard to forget, yet always strived to remember fully, that feeling he'd gotten from them, that sense of belonging, friendship, purpose... love.

Within two seconds there was another dent in the wall and more new wounds on the old hero's knuckles. He sighed as he stared at the wall, scattered with dented plaster and peeling paint chips.

"I really gotta stop kicking the shit out of this wall," he sighed, shaking his head.

She had been wrong. She had always been wrong. He had known love stronger than she could ever handle. It was she, Raven, who didn't know what she was talking about. It was he who had done the right thing for their team, the kindest thing, the safest thing. There was no one alive who could make him feel the way she could. Which was ironic, seeing as she despised feeling almost as much as he used to. Which is how he'd known that she felt it too.

It had never really been her fault. A creature like her could have never understood love's full power, the ideas and passion it unlocked inside a person. Love can drive a person mad. And don't think for a second it doesn't have a similar effect on a half demon.

But soon enough, he remembered what she'd done and he forgot about her in an instant, forgot what they had done to her. What he had done to her. She had taken everything from him. Beast Boy, Cyborg... Starfire... Whether directly or indirectly she stole his friends away from him and left him stone cold and alone on that rooftop. And he would always hate her for it. Hate her for loving him and ruining everything.

Forgiveness was never an option for anyone. No one can ever be forgiven until they forgive themselves. And we're always the hardest on ourselves.

He tried to banish the banshee's words from his memory, but they rang in his head like the voices that sang his destiny. The voices that he'd tried so hard to get rid of, with pills and shrinks, even shamans and exorcists. But they never left him. They plagued him with whispers of honor and duty, somehow knowing and divulging where the criminals were hiding, aiding him. He learned to live with them and became invincible with them on his side, anticipating an opponent's move. Only now, he found, they were silent.

How strange that the one time he screamed for noise, he was given only dead silence. Silence enough to think about the banshee's words, no, Chrona's words, spoken through the demon, or so she claimed. His research had shown that banshees were deceiving, often speaking in riddles to give their victims a false sense of security. The most famous was the banshee who told the Scotsman in 1614, "You will die by a Loch's deadly blow." He avoided lakes, only to be murdered days later by the husband of a woman he philandered with– a locksmith, who beat his head in with none other than an iron lock

But it was no secret that the Banshees did Chrona's bidding. Why would the time demon need his help to save a world she had so much fun trying to destroy?

"Wow, man, you really have the dark and brooding thing down, don'tchya?"

The old Titan spun around and looked all over the room but found nothing.

"Aw, come on, dude, you know better than to just look for me!"

He frowned, confused. It's a memory, he thought. Somewhere in my head.

"Can't say I'm another voice in your head either, cause we all know that's not true."

"Who are you?" the jaded hero demanded at last, becoming angry.

"Come on, Rob, don't play games."

"It seems you're the one playing games with me," he said, drawing his long sword. "Now show yourself so I can kill you."

He jumped when something tapped him on the shoulder and spun around to see the last person he could accept, all though the first he should have expected.

"You can't do that," said his old friend. "We both know I'm already dead."

The old Titan's eyes widened in shock and for the first time in fifteen years, he wavered, and his sword crashed to the ground with a clatter.

"Who are you?" he demanded, furiously. "And why do you have the nerve to try and look like... like..."

Meanwhile, his green friend walked around the room, looking around. "Hm. I, er, can't say I like what you've done with the place. I mean, it kinda needs a Starfire touch, wouldn't you say?"

"You..." said the hero, eyes wide. "You're..."

His companion turned and raised a green eyebrow. "Beast Boy the dead Titan? Believe me, I'm the last one who needs to be reminded of that!"

"She... she killed you..." the shocked demon hunter muttered.

Beast Boy laughed. "Ha, yeah. But don't worry, I hold no grudges. But you do, don't you?"

The man in question sighed a weary sigh and Beast Boy shook his head.

"You're getting old, man. Just north of thirty and you're already sprouting gray hairs. Metaphorically, don't worry. It's just... You forced yourself to grow up way too fast. And so did she. That's what screwed you two over. That's why Starfire vanished, why Cyborg left. You handled things all wrong."

"I did what was right for the team!" the old hero snapped.

"Yeah, and a lot of good it did you, right?" Beast Boy retorted. "You. Cold, alone, dark and brooding. Fighting the demons she unleashed on this world on your own, calling yourself Nightwing? Come on, Rob, of all the names, that? You gotta admit, it's kinda corny."

The one he dubbed Nightwing gave him a wry smile, for once resembling his old self. "Oh? And what kind of a name is Beast Boy?"

"But we're not talking about aliases right now," Beast Boy said, breezing past it. "We're talking about the real you. Who are you, man? You're certainly not Nightwing. You're not Tim Drake, or Batman's sidekick, or even Robin of the Teen Titans either. Those are all names. Beyond that... You're unnameable."

As if to underline his words, an ominous silence followed. The Nameless One took a deep breath.

"Who is anyone, beyond their name?" he said philosophically with a sigh. "No one is who they're named."

Beast Boy laughed. "Yeah," he said. "You say that now. Don't try and get all smart and metaphorical on me, I can see past all that bullshit. You don't see everyone else trying to find themselves in a different name every few years. You don't know who you are. You haven't known ever since the day I died, have you? Ever since the day the Teen Titans officially disbanded. You lost your purpose, you lost your friends, you lost your life, man. And for fifteen years you've been trying to find yourself again, with a new name, a new purpose, and your own shadow as your new best friend Ha, that's what gets me the most. You turned introverted the day she went extroverted." All of a sudden, Beast Boy had an epiphany.

"Wait a minute..." he said as his companion refused to meet his eye. "I've been going about this all wrong, haven't I? You didn't loose yourself with the fall of the Titans... You lost yourself with its cause. You lost yourself... in her, didn't you?"

"What would you know?" the dark hero snapped. The green ghost grinned knowingly.

"Ah, you'd be surprised what being dead does to you," he said. "I know a lot. It's quite fun, actually, knowing things. Hell, if I'da known it was this much fun when I was alive, I would have stopped being stupid a whole lot sooner. Ever play gamestation with a dead president? I'll tell you, that Teddy, he knows how to drive a car..." Beast Boy trailed off at the odd look Robin was giving him. He sighed. "OK, so my sense of humor hasn't aged as much as you have. Truth is, you're brain doesn't automatically rise a few IQ points, you just see a lot of the world when your dead. Things you didn't really have a chance to see when you were alive. Gives yeh a whole different perspective on things. And damn, I'd like to see a trivia quest between me and Cyborg now! I'll show him who's lord of the knowledge!"

"Is there a point to all this ranting?" the old hero asked.

Beast Boy raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Of course. If I'm saying something, there's always a point."

"And what is it?" asked the demon hunter.

There was a pause. "I'm getting to it," Beast Boy snapped.

The man laughed. "You really haven't changed much at all, have you? Not like the rest of us. We're not who we used to be at all."

"Ah, see, that's where you're wrong," said Beast Boy. "Change is relative. You're still you, Rob, despite whatever changes you've gone through. I can call you that, can't I? Robin?"

"It's Nightwing now," said the hero, rather coldly. But Beast Boy shook his head.

"Not for this mission," he said. "The banshee was right. You gotta be Robin for this to work."

"How did you...?"

"Hey, one of the perks of being dead, I get to know what's going on," said the ghost with a grin. "I'm not Robin anymore..." the man sighed.

Beast Boy laughed. "Nope, wrong again! Remember what I said about names? Just like you're never Robin, you're always Robin. Robin was the only time you were ever really anyone. You know that. You changed it because you thought it was the end of an era. Well, I have news for you. We're doing the time warp again, and that means that era's starting up again and I'm gonna need a leader. Can I count on you for that?"

The old hero's eyes were wide. "I think I just understood about every other word you just said."

The ghost grinned. "Great, I think I can take that as a yes." He began to rock up and down on the balls of his feet. "Damn, you don't know how good this feels! To be me again, with you guys! Corporeal and everything!"

"What are you doing here, anyway?" the hero asked. "I mean, ghosts don't just randomly show up on peoples doorsteps."

"I was summoned," said Beast Boy. "By some awesome all mighty power, God or Gods or Fate or I don't know what it is, it's just there. And it said to me, it said, 'Beast Boy, get your ass out of that strip club in heaven and go help your friends!' OK, maybe not exactly like that, but–"

"Did I ever tell you that you say things with way too many words?" the old demon hunter laughed.

Beast Boy shrugged. "That's just me, I guess. Hey, Rob, come on, we got work to do. We gotta find Cyborg and Raven and we gotta kick some apocalypse butt!"

As Beast Boy sprinted to the elevator, he paused when he noted his friend wasn't following. He turned around and frowned. "Dude, Robin, aren't coming?"

The ex-Titan paused as he tasted the old name. "Robin..." he said, then smiled. "Yeah. That's it. You bet your ass, I'm coming!"

Beast Boy grinned at his friend, reborn. "Glad to have you back, Robin."