The monster with red eyes stopped howling and lunged at its surprise assailant. Its attacker, an attacker wearing Tim's clothes with Tim's voice and oh God what was happening?- simply bounced off its back, landing with the grace of a dancer as Conner regained the ability to use his legs.

But not quickly enough. The creature screamed again and lunged. This time at Conner.

And then a shadow flung itself between Conner and the creature. Oppressively tall, dressed entirely in black, a low voice said. "Get him out of here now!"

Tim, who had once again descended from a roof just in time to save Conner's life, dodged past the fighting, grabbed Conner's wrist, and physically pulled him from the scene. Too much adrenaline pumped in his blood for Conner to register much of what happened to him. Instead he found himself drawn to Tim's jacket. His jacket. Jason's jacket. Familiar. He could breathe if he thought about that.

They walked, and it was too dark out to see where so Conner trusted Tim knew where he was going. He followed blindly. He didn't fight when he was shoved into the backseat of a car. Or when it started moving.

"Are you ok?"

All of Conner's world narrowed to the hands in front of him. Pale, reaching out nervously. Conner's vision swam with the motion of the car.

He looked up.

Tim still looked much the same. Somehow Conner thought he might look different.

"Oh my God," he said instead. "Oh my God."

"You're freaking out Conner," Tim said.

The car had tan leather seats, shiny wood panelling, and small red blinking lights in the doors. And if Tim was in the backseat with him…

"Who?" He turned.

In the rearview mirror Jason smirked and waved at him. "Nice of you to join us, Mr. Kent."

"What the hell is-"

"Hold on!" Jason said. He reached out to the dashboard, which held an array of knobs, dials and buttons.

"Jason don't!"

Too late. Conner didn't see what he hit but he was slammed back into his seat with the force of their acceleration. The exceedingly dark tinted windows let him see only that the lights outside were passing in a blur, before Jason turned the steering wheel and Conner was thrown into the door, jolting his shoulder and leaving a bruise.

Tim cursed, and Conner for once was on Tim's side. Jason was an ass.

"We need to slow down." Tim slid, a little uncomfortably, back into his seat and reached for a belt buckle. Conner blindly reached for his own when Jason made another sharp turn.

"What's that?" Jason cried, one fingerless gloved hand reaching out to flip them off as the radio sputtered to life. "I can't hear you, baby bird!"

Conner couldn't hear anything over the incredibly loud base. His seat thrummed, and he could feel the vibration deep in his skull behind his eyes. The lights outside flashed on and off, like they were moving through a tunnel, making Tim look like a series of stop motion images as he shouted something that got lost in the noise.

Too much. Conner squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't stop feeling the way the light, the sound, constantly moved around him. He couldn't tell if he was still dizzy or-

The car screeched, and Conner's stomach lurched as they came to a complete stop. When the engine died, it took several moments for Conner to realize the music had stopped. He could still feel the echoes of the base in his chest. He tried to breath.

"Conner?"

It felt cool, like someone had opened a car door, and Tim's whisper was feather light. Conner still didn't open his eyes. He needed to breathe. It felt like the world was still moving.

"Up, Kent. You need to come with us."

Conner's eyes snapped open at that. The car had stopped. Where, Conner had no idea, it was too dark. Both Waynes had gotten out of the car. Tim knelt awkwardly in front of him, and Jason stood behind him looking annoyed.

Tim held his hands out gingerly, not touching, just hovering right where Conner could see him like Conner was some kind of scared animal.

If Conner's brains hadn't been utterly scrambled already he might have been smarter about the whole thing, but he just flipped Jason off.

"Not with you. Not anywhere."

Jason grinned. "Feisty. You know you almost got eaten, right? You're lucky Timbo here-"

"Enough Jason," Tim said. There was less venom in his voice than usual, and he looked tired as he turned to his brother and added, "You'll make things worse."

Tim kept his voice low. And Jason, thankfully, finally shut up. Conner began to regain his sense of balance as Tim turned back to him. "What do you remember?"

Conner frowned at this question. "A big monster in an alley? You were on the roof again."

Tim sighed. "Anything else?"

"What is going on?"

"You were attacked. We just needed to get you away from the scene. Everything's fine-"

"Oh no you don't." Conner reached out and grabbed both Tim's hovering hands. Tim startled, but didn't pull away. "We're not doing this again. I know something is weird about your family. So start talking."

"Or else what?" Jason asked. He smirked like he thought this was one of his shoplifting games. Like he could get away with anything and Bruce would pay it off. It made Conner want to punch him in the face.

"Or else my Dad's a reporter. An investigative reporter. So fuck you."

Both boy's tensed at Conner's words. A silent look passed between them that Conner didn't like at all.

"Conner," Tim said, and there he went talking like Conner was some kind of scared animal again, "What do you...think you know about us?"

Conner felt the anger, the frustration of the last several weeks bubbling to the surface. "I know you've been an ass to me since you met me. Your dad is some kind of billionaire freak who let's you get away with anything. I know you're bulletproof, skulk around on rooftops, and lie constantly. And we all know what kind of weird things are happening in Gotham at night so-"

"And what do you think it means?" Tim and Jason both looked at Conner, attention unwavering.

Conner didn't back down even though his list of evidence wore thin. "It's the Bat right? Whatever you're hiding, it has to do with all the homeless murders and the Bat that creeps around Crime Alley?"

Tim recoiled. "I-"

Jason, oddly enough, came to his rescue. He knelt, hand on Tim's shoulder, with a soft, "Hey."

Conner watched Tim take a deep breath to steady himself and couldn't believe it. After all the time he spent agonizing. Tim's reaction spoke volumes.

Or maybe this was all a dream he would wake up from any minute. Regardless, he couldn't help but add,

"I don't condone the killing of people, guys." An understatement, but Conner felt it was justifiable. He was in shock.

Jason snorted. "Well we didn't do that, obviously."

"Obviously?" Conner asked. "Then what do you eat?"

Tim whipped his head up to look at Conner. "Excuse me?"

Conner just raised his eyebrows. "You know, for food?"

Silence, as both boys just stared at him.

"Like do you drink animal blood or…?"

Jason cackled. Tim whirled around and punched him in the arm.

"This isn't funny!" he hissed.

Now Conner felt concerned. If they weren't eating the homeless, he had to assume the monster in the alley was. Which still left a lot of questions but-

"We drink racoon blood," Jason said, still grinning. He jumped up to avoid any further violence from Tim. "Sometimes a possum if we can catch 'em for that sweet, sweet rabies immunity-"

Tim spun around to Conner, looking stricken, "We do not! We eat normal food-"

"Vampires can do that?"

At this point Jason lost it, clutching his stomach as he bent over on the pavement. Tim looked mortified.

"He's never going to let me live this down," Tim said, but appeared to mostly be talking to himself.

Conner sat, bemusedly watching the two as Jason, between huffs, said he needed to tell everyone and pulled out his phone.

"Conner," Tim said at last, "You should come with us. We need to get you home."

"I'm not going anywhere until you two start explaining- what is so funny?"

Jason had calmed to an occasional chuckle, and Conner, even with his half a brain, had a sneaking suspicion he was missing some incredibly vital, obvious information.

"Conner-" Tim sounded exasperated.

"Now hold on," Jason said. He still smiled like he might bust into laughter any minute, but he came closer to put a hand on Tim's shoulder.

"We're not talking about this," Tim said quickly, standing and gesturing for Conner to follow.

Conner crossed his arms. "I said I'm not going anywhere."

"Tim," Jason's smile faded, "Tim, come on, let's talk about this."

"What's there to talk about? He doesn't know anything." Tim said, turning away so Conner couldn't see his face.

"Look, Bruce isn't here right now. We don't have to-"

"Absolutely not."

"All I'm saying is, it wouldn't really be our fault— I mean he couldn't blame us if Conner were to, perhaps, have overheard something? Seen something he wasn't supposed to?"

Tim didn't move, and Jason appeared to be scanning his face, gauging whatever reaction Conner couldn't see.

"Tim, it's either that, or we have to cut him out entirely. You know Bruce is going to-"

Tim tensed, "But that's not fair."

"I know that. But that's how Bruce is."

Now that he had time to get his bearings, Conner could see they were in a driveway. They had to have driven under the river, and when he looked up, Wayne Manor loomed above them looking as imposing and decrepit as ever. Yellow light shone out of the tiny downstairs windows but Alfred did not emerge. The stars couldn't be seen though whether it was light pollution or Gotham clouds he couldn't tell at night. It had also gotten cold, and Conner slid further back into the car.

On the ground, mostly covered in shadow, Jason put an arm around Tim's shoulder. "I'm not going to pretend I've been a good brother to you. I know that. But listen, Tim, you've got to stop doing this to yourself. No one wants to see you grow up to be Bruce."

Something about the conversation, it's tone, the way both Jason and Tim had gone tender all of sudden, made the entire thing too intimate. Conner didn't want to look or listen in, but there was no where for him to go. He stared at their backs.

"I don't know…"

"Just one little slip up. Bruce said too much. He saw too much already. We decided to take him back to the manor. And that was the end of it."

Tim looked back over at Conner. The sudden eye contact burned but Conner didn't look away. He needed to know what was going on. At last Tim looked at Jason.

"Ok." He turned to look at Conner. "Can you tell Clark you're staying the night?"

His fingertips felt numb. His skull still buzzed. If Conner died in the next twenty four hours, he'd have no one to blame but himself. He fumbled his phone out of his pocket.

He'd never had great self preservation skills anyway.

The manor seemed more alive at night than it had during the day. The warm yellow light of a tiffany lamp in the foyer greeted them, and Alfred nodded as if he had expected Conner.

"I shall prepare a guest room," he said.

Conner still couldn't decide if he'd been dead on the mark, or beyond wrong, but he accepted the water handed to him, and let himself be led to his new room. He was unsurprised to even find PJs in his size.

"Bruce will want someone to keep an eye on him," Jason said, pulling on his coat as he appeared at the end of the hallway.

Tim paused where he stood outside Conner's room. "You're heading back out?"

"Someone has to. Keep Bruce out of trouble." And with a two finger salute Jason was gone.

Tim sighed.

"So, I guess I'm not getting any answers today?" Conner asked. He stepped into the guest room, and Tim lingered in the doorway. Conner wondered if Tim actually planned to stay and watch him all night as he slipped out of his shirt and into the pajamas.

Tim looked away. "You can ask me anything you want."

"I take it, from Jason's reaction, you aren't a vampire?"

Conner turned to catch Tim trying to hide a smile. "Sometimes I wonder."

"That's not an answer."

"Bruce would like people to think so."

"So you guys are...what pretending to be vampires?"

"More or less." Tim shrugged, "Not really into haematophilia, personally."

"Right."

Conner stared at the freshly made bed. Though the room had been prepared, he could still tell no one had used it in a long, long time. Tall, skinny windows with heavy velvet curtains gave a view of the black forest surrounding the Wayne estate. Conner could feel the weight of exhaustion in his shoulders and slowly pulled back the covers.

Tim stepped into the room, footsteps silent, and gently closed the door behind him. He slid to the floor and sat cross legged against the door frame.

Conner watched, taking a seat on the bed. "How long do you plan to stay?"

"Until you're asleep."

"You think I'll go running off?"

Tim shrugged. "I think Jason is right. And I don't want to be out there when Bruce gets home."

"You make him sound terrible."

"He's not," Tim said, and he leaned his head back, closing his eyes, "But when he gets back I can't promise he won't make me never speak to you again. Jason's ideas are always terrible."

"I'm still mad at you," Conner said.

Tim opened his eyes. He didn't look happy. He looked like someone had sapped all the life out of him over the course of years and had left a barely functioning machine in its place. He smiled, but it was strained. Conner couldn't help the way his heart clenched.

He forgot, sometimes, that Tim was unbearably pretty, but at the thought of not ever speaking to him again it rushed back to the forefront of his mind. It didn't seem right Tim could look so thoroughly exhausted. Conner had spent an agonizing two or three months trying to figure Tim out, and to have that torn away felt unfair.

Conner sighed. He was tired, but he didn't want to sleep without his answers. "You keep implying that you aren't supposed to tell me things. Or do things. What is that?"

"There's no telling anyone. Especially outside the family."

"And what is it you aren't supposed to tell me, exactly?"

Tim hesitated. He looked almost pained with his next sentence. "Bruce...isn't a normal person."

"This isn't the part where you tell me Bruce is a vampire, right?"

For the first time, instead of looking exasperated or even amused, Tim looked deadly serious. He looked at Conner like he thought the boy might be lying. It reminded Conner of when they first met.

"You really have no idea what's going on?" Tim asked at last.

"None. You could turn me out of here right now and all I'd have to tell Clark is that you guys are weird and there's an animal on the loose."

Tim bit his lip. Conner worried his honesty just cost him his answers, but at last Tim relaxed, settling into an almost meditative pose. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Conner rarely slept well. Since childhood he had been a restless sleeper, made more restless when he'd left Lex's carefully structured life. He'd frequently stayed up in Hawaii until the light of the morning broke over the horizon, only to get maybe three hours of sleep before being shaken awake by Rex or the truancy officer.

With Clark things weren't much better. He had weird dreams, a creaky bed, and neighbors who didn't know how to keep it down.

So he was more surprised than everyone when he awoke Sunday morning gradually, coming into awareness as the white morning light filtered through his windows. He felt warm, but comfortably so, and resisted becoming fully conscious for as long as possible until the sun became too much to ignore and he opened his eyes, reaching for his phone on instinct.

"Holy hell-!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Tim ducked out of the way from where he'd been sitting in a thin wooden chair by the window.

Conner sat fully up and glared. "You're a real freak, you know that?"

Tim dressed like a normal teenager instead of a model today. His shirt was grey, but faded like it might have once been black, and about three sizes too large. It might have been one of his older brothers. He wore sweatpants instead of jeans, and generally didn't look like he planned on leaving the house. It was kind of funny how Tim could go from runway ready to utter disaster overnight.

In his hands Tim held a box, and there was a backpack on the floor that wasn't Conner's. Conner looked at him expectantly. Tim may have been weird, but Conner didn't know him to be someone who did things without a reason.

"I thought you could ask your questions today?" Tim said holding up the box gingerly. When Conner made to get out of the bed he added, "There will be conditions, of course."

"Like what?"

"You can't tell anyone else. And...and you have to let me ask anything I want in return."

All the Wayne's secrets for the price of a few more lies to Clark and Conner's own boring backstory? He grinned as he got up. "Deal."

"You're taking this remarkably well," Tim said.

He found the guest bathroom in a tucked away corner and waved Tim off.

"Give me ten minutes."

The bathroom was fully stocked with toiletries, but unlike Lex's there was something incredibly mundane about it. The toothbrush looked generic, and the shower was limited to a body scrub and two-in-one shampoo. Combined with the ancient pipes and creaky toilet Conner almost felt at home. He finally checked his phone as he waited for the shower to heat up.

Clark: I hope you have fun :) Call me when you need a ride home or if you need me to bring an overnight bag.

It was oddly jarring to see such a normal message after the night before. At least as far as he could tell his neck remained free of fang marks. That had to be a good sign.

He scrubbed down as quickly as possible, toweling off his hair and pulling on yesterday's T-shirt. The anticipation manifested as an odd sort of nervousness, that had him hesitating at the doorknob.

But it was just Tim. And honestly given the year he'd been having so far, what could Tim possibly say that would make it worse? He opened the door.

Tim sat cross legged on his bed, sipping a steaming coffee that must have been delivered while Conner was in the shower. The small, grey box lay open in front of him, and he seemed to be sorting through papers. Conner crept closer to see an array of photos. Tim smiled up at him.

"Seat?"

Conner quickly took his place beside Tim, and waited for the other boy to speak.

"So I guess...I'm not really sure how to do this. Is there a place you want me to start?" Tim asked, looking up at Conner and leaving the photos spread out on the mattress.

"What was that thing last night? Who else was in that alley?"

Tim's head tilted as he thought over how to answer Conner's question. "Before I say anything...you have to agree to secrecy. Even if you decide to never talk to me again-"

"Why would I do that?" and at Tim's amused look, "Look you're a jerk but we still have Chemistry together. I'm not going to ignore you."

"You say that now."

Conner really sometimes wanted to grab Tim by the shoulders and give him a good shake. But the feeling wasn't new, so he scowled, put one hand over his heart and held the other up, palm towards Tim.

"I swear, on my life, on my mother's life, I won't tell a soul. Trust me I'm good at secrets."

Tim bit his lip, but nodded, and Conner lowered his hands.

"All right. The thing in the alley was a monster-"

"I knew it."

Tim looked at him with a deep scowl. "You know, most people don't celebrate this sort of thing. Besides we don't know what it is. It's not a known animal. It's strong, faster than the human eye, and can vanish seemingly without a trace." Tim paused, then sighed. "And has been know to drain the bodies of blood, though we've interrupted it several times before."

"So are you guys vampire hunters?" Conner asked. The idea of the Wayne's dressed in black leather, hurling stakes and molotov cocktails got him slightly more excited than he knew he should be. Self preservation be damned, vampire hunting seemed cool.

"No," Tim laughed, but it was more a nervous sort of laughter. "Do you know anything about the founding families of Gotham?"

"No," Conner lied. He didn't like the idea of confessing to the inordinate amount of time he had spent googling the Waynes and vampires in general. Tim put down his coffee on the bedside table.

"Well," Tim said, "Gotham is an old city. Very old. And the secrets here run deep. There's magic and monsters in this place that I didn't think could ever exist."

"So like a hellmouth?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's" Conner's hands floated in front of him in a gesture that was meant to imitate a hole, "A place where supernatural monsters happen? Like in Buffy the Vampire Slayer ."

"Real people died," Tim said.

"Right," Conner said, quickly putting his hands down as a flush ran up his neck.

"I guess it's not a terrible analogy. Given the sort of stuff we've run into," Tim said. "But the point I think I'm trying to make is that the Wayne family had — has — a long history. A history dealing with those sorts of things. Protecting Gotham from them. When his parents died, Bruce thought it might have been supernatural. And by the time he'd ruled that out, well, stare into the abyss it stares into you or whatever."

He spared his photos a look, hands wandering over the bed, across the images. Conner followed the movement of his hands.

The pictures were varied. Some looked like they had been printed out on normal printer paper, others Conner recognized as the fancy photo paper that meant Tim had developed them himself. Some could have been newspaper clippings. The contents were as diverse as the images themselves. Some showed blurry figures, taken from strange angles. Others just a shadow passing the lens. And some could have been family portraits.

"I figured...I'm not very good sometimes, with you, at explaining things. I thought the pictures would help," Tim said, landing on blurry photo and picking it up gingerly. "This is from the day Dick's parents died. I was there because I liked to take pictures of the acrobats. I couldn't have been more than eight. The trapeze was tampered with. They fell to their deaths. No one was ever held responsible."

He put down the image of a well lit arena floor flooded with people too far away and washed out to recognize and pointed at a newspaper clipping.

"And that's the day Bruce announced to the papers he was taking him in. Just like that." Tim picked it up and laid it side by side with the image from the night at the circus.

"This is Jason's first mugshot. He doesn't know I have a copy," Tim said, and held up a small, printed picture with a smile. Whether he showed it or not, Tim had clearly adored Jason once. The image held a disheveled, much younger, scrawnier Jason, who glared at the camera. Tim held onto it even as he pointed to another one.

"Those are the photos released to the press from when Duke's parents went missing — and these are the first pictures I ever took of Cass"

"It's dark." Conner said, squinting at the nearly black polaroid.

"She was trying to kick me off the roof of a building."

Conner frowned down at the bed. Now that he had the some background on the Waynes and Gotham and just Tim in general, the pictures began to form a loose narrative. They swam together. Images of missing persons, of dead bodies, two shadowy figures on a rooftop, blood splatter in an alley. And from them emerged an unsettling pattern.

"So, what, your parents die in a terrible accident, and then Bruce Wayne conveniently shows up? And in exchange for fighting vampires you, what, get to live in a mansion?"

"Not exactly," Tim said, with a not at all reassuring smile. He at last put down the picture of Jason. "I actually tailed him and Dick and Jason for weeks accusing them of being all sorts of things. Criminals mainly. Before Bruce got sick of it. And then Jason got himself in trouble and I-"

Tim stopped short. And smiled apologetically when Conner gestured for him to continue.

"Sorry. It's not like, a secret monster thing. I just think Jason would want me to keep it between us."

That didn't sit right with Conner but he decided to let it go. Tim looked at him expectantly. "Anymore questions?"

"So the Wayne family, if we use the Buffy metaphor, you guys are like, totally the slayers. And the vampires—"

"Not just vampires."

"Right. You definitely will have to explain that, but the monsters are the monsters and vampires. Alfred would be Giles. And I guess that would make the other families of Gotham…"

"The Watchers Council. But to be fair Bruce is very hush hush on that. I think the only family I know of for sure is the Kanes."

Conner beamed at Tim wordlessly.

"What?"

"You nerd. I knew you had to have seen it."

Tim rolled his eyes. "You know I should send you away now. You clearly have no common sense. You should be telling me I'm crazy and leaving."

Conner shrugged. "I mean, this is definitely the most interesting thing that's happened to me so far. But I don't think you're crazy."

"Any other questions?"

"Tons."

"Well?"

"How are you bulletproof?"

Tim blushed and folded his hands neatly in front of him, like propriety could protect him from Conner's questions. "Promise you won't get mad?"

"I make no such promises."

Tim lifted his oversized shirt to reveal a layer of black underneath.

"I cannot believe you," Conner said.

"To be fair," Tim said, "I did almost get shot for real. I was just lucky the guy's aim was terrible and it mostly grazed. This stuff is thinner than the usual stuff and I really—"

"The usual stuff? Do you always wear bulletproof vests?"

"Well, almost always." And at Conner's look of horror, "Oh, seriously, that's what freaks you out?"

Conner leaned forward and pressed his hand against the kevlar vest, and Tim jumped a little. It was a rough material, and honestly didn't seem comfortable to be wearing all the time.

"You aren't joking." Conner said.

"This is dangerous. My family is dangerous."

Conner looked up. Tim watched him as he slowly drew back. "This makes me Xander doesn't it?"

What should have been breakfast turned into lunch by the time Conner and Tim made their way out of the room. Conner still dressed in pajama pants, and Tim looking chipper despite the fact he'd shown Conner at least two knives hidden on his person.

"Better safe than sorry," Tim had said, the entire time looking at Conner like he thoughy this might be the thing to scare him away. The way Tim talked about it, the monster hunting business was far more mundane than Conner would have imagined.

"No silver bullets?"

"No," Tim huffed. "Sometimes we...dabble in more metaphysical things. But Bruce always says people who go too far down that path aren't the same. He also dated a witch once so there's that."

Conner had already decided he was committed to seeing whatever this was through to the end. He pestered Tim with questions on their way to the kitchen. How long had he been doing this? What sort of monsters had he seen? When would they stop?

Tim took it well for the most part, tripping up only when asked about future plans to halt all vampire hunting activities.

"If we don't do it who will?"

"Uh, you could call the cops like normal people?"

"I don't think you've fully grasped the enormity of the problem here."

Still it didn't discourage Conner. He found that something between him and Tim seemed to have clicked. Tim no longer cut his answers short, or hedged when talking about his family. In fact he seemed pleased to be able to regale Conner with each of their unique stories.

He learned about the Flying Graysons, and the circus. About Jason Todd thinking he could rob a billionaire and get away with it.

He learned that Cassandra's name was Cassandra Cain Wayne and her father had been one of the metaphysical dabblers Tim seemed less than keen on. That she couldn't speak but could always tell if you were lying.

He learned Duke's parents had been found, but sadly they were not the same. And he learned, most surprising of all, that Damian was actually Bruce's son. He didn't ask whether the woman in some of the family photos was his mother. It didn't seem polite. And he could tell from the low tone Tim used that Damian being Bruce's blood child clearly was a point of tension.

Tim, in fact wouldn't shut up about his family as they wandered into the kitchen looking for food, only for one half dressed Dick Grayson to jump like he'd been caught doing something bad, spilling his drink.

"Tim?" Dick said. Dick was not wearing a shirt, and his bedhead suggested a late start to the day. Conner tried not to stare, but it was hard, because there were thin but noticeable scars crawling up the right side of Dick's body. Dick's eyes narrowed at Conner, and didn't leave him even as he addressed Tim. "He's still here?"

"It was Jason's idea."

"Of course it was. B won't be happy."

Tim shuffled awkwardly. Both him and Conner stood in the doorway. Conner wasn't going anywhere without Tim's say so, and Tim appeared to still be trying to gauge Dick's reaction.

Dick offered them both a weary smile. "Excuse me, I'm normally a morning person, actually, but I was out late last night."

"Sorry," Tim said, "I didn't know."

"It's nothing, just keep this one away from Bruce for the time being, I'll try to run damage control as soon as I—" He trailed off as they all heard a door slam from somewhere in the house.

"Well then," Dick said, and in one motion he leapt across the kitchen table and pushed past Conner and Tim.

Tim watched him go. "We should hide."

"Ok, no offense, but you're making Bruce sound like a top tier douche."

"You know, it's not really Bruce I'm worried about."

That's when the shouting started.

"You're just in time," Duke said.

He lurked outside in the hallway by the entrance to the foyer. In the next room Jason had paused in his ranting. Duke looked Conner up and down and seemed neither surprised nor perturbed by his presence.

He nodded to Conner. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd join us."

"You're the one giving Jason ideas then," Tim said. He didn't seem upset at Duke but Conner could tell he was missing information again.

"I plead the fifth. Not that Jason ever needed my help. I already told him not to pick a fight but you can see how well that went. Tell me you have a plan?"

"You tell me," Tim said with a crooked smile before walking into the room.

Conner knew Jason was angry. Happy kids didn't steal for fun and get punched in the face during homecoming. Jason had to be nine kinds of trouble, but it still startled him to see Jason waving his arms and moving about the room like he'd been caged in. Dick's attempts to draw closer further aggravated him.

"Will you both leave me the fuck alone?"

Jason had pulled on a coat and slung a bag over his shoulder. Bruce, in a white button up and crisply pressed trousers, stood rooted to the spot in the center of the room. His looming presence did nothing to calm the atmosphere.

"Jason," he said in an irritatingly rational tone, "you're overreacting."

As Tim and Conner emerged from the doorway, his eyes flashed towards them. Conner caught the swift moment of recognition, brief flash of anger, and then calm. Bruce's expression flattened into something controlled and entirely unnatural. It made Conner's stomach turn. He remembered the man from Lex's dinner and wondered how many masks Bruce Wayne wore.

"Show Mr. Kent out," Bruce said, tone leaving no room for question.

Conner crossed his arms, and made no move to leave. Tim ignored both of them in favor of delicately placing himself between Bruce and Jason. It was a move that spoke volumes, but bothered Conner, both because it implied that there were sides here and Tim was on Jason's, and that despite Jason being the most reckless of any of the Waynes, Tim felt he needed protecting.

Jason tensed. Conner sympathized. He knew what it could feel like to face a room full of people who thought they knew better than you, even well meaning ones.

"All of you get out of my way."

"So you can do what?" Bruce asked. And he sounded so close to Lex. The tone that said I know what's good for you and you can't do anything about it.

"So I can fucking leave. Or am I prisoner here too?"

Bruce didn't say anything, and when Dick made the mistake of taking a step forward Jason whirled around. "I said back off, Dick."

"Jay, we've got to-"

"I'm leaving."

Jason marched towards the exit and Conner ducked out of the way to let him pass. There wasn't a vampire hunter in the world scary enough to convince Conner to stop whatever nonsense Jason was up to. The rest of his family watched Jason go, and while Conner had never been stealthy, all bulky frame and loud backtalk, he had grown up for a long time learning to be seen not heard. So as the eyes of all of Bruce Wayne's children turned to their adoptive father, Conner let himself fade into the background.

"Nice work, B," Dick said, after they heard the front door slam. From anyone else the comment would have sounded short tempered, but from him it just sounded tired. Dick probably had a really hard time being mean, let alone scolding his father of at least ten years.

Bruce frowned, and straightened up, adjusting his shirt collar before turning towards Conner's place at the door. Duke had slipped into the room. Like all the Waynes he could move without sound when he wanted.

"I don't suppose you plan to tell me where he went," Bruce addressed Duke.

Duke held up his hands, "Sorry. I swore to use my powers only for good." A pause. "We should all take a break. Tensions have been running little high around here for a while."

"Good idea," Bruce said. He seemed to be falling into a more natural manner of speaking, stoic mask of calm slowly dissipating to be replaced by deep frown lines and a dark stare. "Tim, escort your guest off the premises."

For a moment Conner thought Tim might protest. Instead Tim turned to Dick, who apparently held a lot of power in this family because he nodded, and Tim sighed and said, "Come on, Conner."

"You'll text me, right?" Conner asked, as he was lead away

"Alfred will drive you home. Stop getting attacked in alleyways."

"Tim."

"Let's get your stuff and get you home."

Clark was in a manic mood when Conner came home. He had newspaper clippings neatly stacked on the table by his take out lunch. Conner tried to be polite, but by the time Alfred had dropped him off back at his apartment he just wanted to collapse into something soft. He worried that if he opened his mouth, all his thoughts would come tumbling out in a jumble of nonsense, so instead he locked himself in his room.

He never even got to study for English class.