What is lost, return.
Not dead, not of the living,
Spirits of the spaces between, I call.
Bind him, cast his heart from the evil realm.
Let him know the pain of humanity.
Reach your sacred hands to me. Give me the sword...
I call on you; do not ignore this request.
Let this orb be the vessel that will carry his soul to him.
It is written, this power is my right to wield.
Return to the body what separates man from animal,
Until the moment when he finds peace from this torment.
So shall it be with the help of this magic crystal globe.
So it shall be! So it shall be!
Now! Now!
Ritual of Restoration, translated from the original Egyptian, as cast by Talia al Ghul to return the soul of Jason Todd to the vampire known as the Red Hood.Jason stumbles out of the house.
Sunrise is soon, and he knows this; he can feel it, threatening to break over the horizon, but he...
He needs to get away.
His breath—breaths that he doesn't even need to take, that he hasn't needed to take in a decade—comes in stuttering, short bursts, and pain, pain is... it's everywhere...
His chest feels like it's about to burst open, and he claws at his own shirt, trying to see if something has found its way under his skin, because the pain is so much—
Then, as suddenly as it started, it fades.
He stops where he's standing, staring up at the rapidly greying sky.
"Huh," he says, grinning. "So that's how it goes."
Morning dawns to her sitting in a cemetery, her knees drawn up against her chest as she perches awkwardly on a slab of frozen marble.
A glance at her phone shows a string of texts, missed phone calls, and voicemails, from everyone but her mother. Mom thinks she's spending the night at Harper's, and no one is going to correct her, not even in their panic.
Duke and Tim are missing from the list as well, but she can't imagine they're up for much right now.
God knows that she wasn't, after her dad...
She pauses, scrolling through the texts, before she realizes that Jason hasn't texted her since right after...
Steph finds herself smiling, despite everything.
Jason gets her, sometimes. He knows she'd rather be left alone.
She hops off her gravestone, patting the headstone of Gabi Kane to thank it for its use as a seat, and then heads back towards the St. Cloud cemetery to check on Jason.
"Hey Blondie," he greets her when she pushes open the door to his crypt. "Rough night?"
She swallows. "Yeah."
His customary jacket is thrown across the cheap couch that she helped him move in last summer, and instead, he's wearing his red hoodie with the hood pulled up over his face.
"Guess we should've seen it coming though," he says. He offers her the packet of cigarettes he's carrying. "I mean. You're the Slayer. They usually don't have friends for a reason."
"Yeah," she says, sitting down hard on the granite block in the middle of the crypt.
"I mean, you couldn't have known, though," Jason says, as if he's realizing that he's messed up, even though he's saying nothing other than the absolute truth. "That the Joker would go after them because they're your friends. And you couldn't have known that he'd go after their parents. You're just... you."
Just herself. Just a really, really crappy Slayer, with not enough training, who couldn't even get to the first house in time to stop Duke from having to see any of that, couldn't save his parents, couldn't save Tim's mom, couldn't—
She gets up and goes to school, hoping that she can get into the library to retrieve her backpack without anyone noticing.
The blood is so thick that it might as well be painted upon the very walls of the building.
Talia al Ghul lifts up the hem of her skirt, her lips dangerously thin as she examines the scene.
"Who did this?"
"He called himself the Red Hood." It's one of her father's people who offers her this information.
Talia keeps her face blank as she examines the corpses; there are three, but the vampire has mauled them so thoroughly that if she had not gone in knowing that, she might not have realized.
The Red Hood.
She knows him; how could she not, when he has caused so much suffering?
Jason Todd.
She had met the boy once, soon after Bruce had adopted him. He had been clever and full of life, grieving one of his mothers already, the one who had been a Potential, once upon a time, which was how Bruce had stumbled across him.
Bruce always had a soft spot for Potentials.
And now, he was dead, and a demon moved around in his body, using all of the kindness and cleverness of Jason Todd as a tool in his own cruelty.
Three Potentials lay dead.
Father had been holding high hopes for them.
He would not be pleased about this development.
One Slayer was dead already, and it was known that the Hood was making a point of targeting them.
Father would want him to pay for what he had done.
Perhaps...
She might be able to use this.
She wiped her hands off on her skirt, and then brushed her hand against her stomach as she thought.
Yes. She might be able to use this.
Harley hits the ground hard and isn't able to stop herself from letting out a whimper.
"Mister J—" She pleads, reaching upwards towards him, but all it does his make him angrier.
"You ruined everything!"
A distant part of her knows that this is bad, that she might have pushed him too far this time, but she refuses to believe it, because...
Because...
She meets his eyes and oh...
He kicks her again, and she tastes blood, but it's her own blood this time, not anyone else's, and he's right, she deserves this. He trusted her to keep them, and she let them go...
Why did she do that? Why did she betray him like that?
She can't think, can't even remember their faces, can't even remember what their voices sounded like, can't—
"If you're going to kill her, let me have a drink first," a voice says, cutting through the haze and the pain, and Harley looks up, blood dripping down her chin onto the floor.
"Jay Jay?" She croaks, blinking, trying to get him in focus, but her vision is blurred and red from her collision with the walls.
A familiar face appears in front of her, a smile across his face.
"You look like shit, Harley," Jay Jay says, then he picks her up, cradling her against his chest.
She laughs, forgetting all about the pain. "It's you! It's really you!"
"It's me," he says, kissing her forehead. "I'd say sorry to cause trouble, but well..." He sets her on her feet.
Mister J embraces him. "Knew it was just a phase, kiddo! Glad to see you're feeling better!"
"Oh! Are you hungry?" Harley says, worried. "That Slayer hasn't been feeding you properly, you're thin!"
She offers him her arm, just like she had when he was a fledgling, all wild-eyed and confused. He'd been so cute back then, unsure of his own strength, but then, just like now, he took her arm and drank greedily.
It hurts, oh it hurts, it's different than when Mister J does it, with his eyes staring into her and his fangs digging into her skin, but Jay Jay has always been hungry, has always taken as much as she can give, because that's what kids do, y'know? But it's all okay, and Harley doesn't begrudge him a single drop, even as the pain shoots up and down her arm, and some distant part of her tries to pull away.
Mister J puts a hand on her shoulder, and tilts her head back to meet his gaze. "It's good to have a full nest again, isn't it Harley?"
The pain flickers and then fades, and she laughs and tilts her head to one side to allow him access to her neck, just like she did back when things were good, and when they were a family.
He lowers his head, and she gasps, delighted, as he bites down, the joyful, tingly numbness filling her lungs, and she begins to drift, full of the feeling of completion, the way that only he has ever made her feel.
"Mom's home cooking," Jay Jay jokes, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. Dreamily, she reaches up a hand to wipe it away.
"You always were a messy eater," she tells him, smiling vaguely. Oh, she's missed him so much.
Mister J stops drinking and suddenly, without him to support her, she collapses back to the ground.
"How did this happen?" Mister J says.
"Curse broke. Something to do with the Watcher, I think." He shrugs. "Honestly, I know you're mad, but I'm glad she let those two fly the coop. If I'd come home to a couple new chicks, I might have had to do some culling."
Harley can smell cigarette smoke, and the smell forces her to concentrate, the blood loss bringing forward that part of her, however small and dying that it was, that had made it through medical school, that knows how to handle this.
She forces herself to sit up, checking her wounds to make sure that they've sealed. Vampire bites usually seal themselves, but Jay Jay rarely bothers, but he did this time.
She has iron supplements... somewhere. Maybe she should just stay here a while. It's been so long since they've all been together, after all.
"So, now that you're back, what do you want to do?"
Jay Jay laughs.
"She tried to get me to heal. Turned me into a pathetic little thing. Convinced me that I could be forgiven. Made me feel human."
His smile is exactly like she remembered.
"I'm going to make her hurt. I'm going to strip away everything that makes her strong. And then, when she's all alone and pathetic and human... then I'll kill her."
"She meant that much to you?" Mister J asks.
He stubs out his cigarette on the wall. "I would have called her my best friend. Too bad I never bothered to tell her that." He grins. "Might have made this even more fun."
Harley leans her head against the wall and starts to drift away.
Poor Slayer.
Her boys are never fun to deal with when they get like this.
"I warned you, daughter."
"Father, please. I can still fix this."
"I warned you against using that curse in the first place. Now, it has backfired. The Red Hood has his soul, and the trust of a Slayer. You did not use the curse as it was meant to be used! You used it as a kindness. It is a curse! It is meant to bring down upon a vampire all of the suffering that they have inflicted upon the world. The boy found peace, and his heart was light, and that single moment was enough to drive away all of your hard work. And now, he will seek vengeance upon you for what you thought was kind."
"There is still time! I can gather the ingredients, I just need—"
"No. I have allowed you to play this game. What, have you started to believe it? Believe yourself to be Talia Head? A scholar and a computer scientist? You are Talia al Ghul! You are my daughter. I did not wish for you to use the ancient curse on him initially, do you believe I would allow you to do it again?"
"The Red Hood—"
"Is loose upon this town, and so be it. Perhaps this time, the Watcher will find it in himself to do what must be done. Now, we're leaving. You should keep your mind on… more important things."
Bruce picks Duke up from the hospital.
"I've filed the paperwork so that you can stay with me for as long as you want," Bruce tells him quietly.
"Where else would I go?" Duke says. He feels numb from head to toe, completely disconnected from everything. He knows... he should be reacting more. It should be... more.
But right now, he feels too tired for any of it.
"No one would judge you for wanting to leave Gotham, Duke," Dick says from the front seat. His eyes are sympathetic, and his suit is rumpled.
"No," Duke says, tightening his fingers around the strap of his duffle. "No."
He needs to stay. He needs to fight. He needs to... he needs to help.
He keeps hearing his parents' laughter in the back of his mind, twisted by the Joker, and that's… it's not right, because that's the last time he'll ever hear it, because it's gone, gone in a puff of dust and a piece of wood in Steph's hands.
Cass reaches over and puts her hand on his, squeezing.
Tim is with his dad. Harper is staying with him, whenever she's not at school. The advantage of a friendship that goes all the way back to Kindergarten.
"Where's Steph?" Duke says, because he's seen most of the others, except Jason, but he's always been surrounded by people, and Jason doesn't like interacting with strangers, so that's not unexpected.
He catches the look that Bruce and Dick give each other.
"Harper saw her at school today. She's okay." Bruce finally says.
"Oh. Okay."
Jason needs to bide his time.
The Slayer is hurting, and hurting bad. She's taking the Joker's hit hard, and it wasn't even direct.
It's going to be so much sweeter when he strikes close to home.
There's no need to overplay his hand.
He can mess with her, maybe Bruce too while he's at it.
They've been playing house with nothing more than dreams and playing cards, and Jason is going to bring it all toppling down.
He inhales the sweet smoke from his cigarettes and leans against the Slayer's window from his perch in the tree, watching her sleep.
Yes… biding his time will make it all the sweeter.
The statue looks like a gargoyle. A sword pierces right through its mouth, and she knows...
It's important that the sword stay there, that nothing so much as disturb that statue.
She turns around, and she's looking up into Jason's eyes.
"You've got to do it, Blondie. It's for the best."
The sword is in her hand.
"No one else will do it for you."
Everything is fire and everything is pain and no one should ever have put anything in her hands, she's nothing, she's a failure, she's just a girl...
She opens her eyes.
"Steph! You're going to be late for school!"
"Coming," Steph whispers.
Her entire body aches; two hours of sleep is not enough time to recover from her patrol.
Duke is coming back to school today. Tim isn't; his dad is threatening to pull him out, threatening to leave Gotham altogether, and Steph can't really blame him.
Had it really only been a week ago that things had been okay?
She sighs and forces herself to get up and get dressed.
Cass is waiting for her on the steps, looking way too pretty in her bright yellow sweater, her expression just as grim as Steph feels.
"How is he?" Steph asks.
"Bad. But alive." Cass reaches for Steph, but then stops.
"Just like Tim," she says.
The two of them look at each other, the weight of their failures, of all the dead weighing down on them.
It's not fair, Steph knows this. They're not the ones who go around killing people. They fight the evil, they save lives.
But it feels awful, standing in the aftermath of the destruction.
"Let's go," Steph says, shouldering her backpack.
Cass shakes her head. "Going back. Training."
Right, because only one of them is stupid enough to attempt to have a normal life, and it's the blonde.
Steph swallows down her pride and goes to school.
It takes Duke less than a day to realize that Steph is avoiding him.
Steph is many things but subtle has never exactly been one of them.
They have less classes together this year than they had sophomore year, but even then, Steph manages to sit way in the back, even though she usually sits right behind him, so she can whisper things about the teachers just low enough that he can hear.
Now, she's not even looking at him, and every time he tries to catch up with her in a hall, he loses sight of her.
He keeps thinking about the way she looked, clutching a stake that used to be his parents' table, as the last traces of his parents floated around her. The strange, empty look on her face as she looked at him.
Harper is in class today, at least. She's been skipping to keep Tim company a lot, but Jack Drake apparently finally figured out that Tim had a girl breaking into their house and sleeping in his bed to keep him company through the nightmares—even if the girl was Harper, who he had known for years, and Tim had a boyfriend. Admittedly, the boyfriend had also been in the room, but Kon had used his keen werewolf senses to make it out the window before Jack Drake could catch him.
So Harper was in school, and so was Kon, and all of them look as tired as he feels.
"How is he?" Duke asks them.
"Bad," Harper says. "Jack is being…"
"A lot," Kon chimes in, his expression a scowl. "He wants to pull Tim out of school! Send him to boarding school, or just flat out move!"
"He can't," Duke says. "They can't move." Imagining Gotham without Tim is unthinkable at this point. Their little group is more than just casual friendship. They're so much more than that. They've fought the forces of darkness together, and they've saved the world (well, it was mostly Steph, but Duke is giving them at least partial credit) and Tim can't just… leave.
Harper shrugs, looking helpless. "He keeps saying Gotham isn't safe."
"It's never been safe! Did he only just figure this out? This city has the highest homicide rate outside of a major metropolitan area!"
Kon lets out a snicker. "Yeah, well, I guess he's finally figured out what that means."
They all go quiet at that.
"God, this sucks," Harper says.
Duke nods, not having it in him to say anything else.
His parents have been buried, but there's no bodies beneath their graves. Barbara has been trying to do research, trying to figure out how his parents could have been turned so quickly, but she's not coming up with anything.
Right now, they're just being left with a lot of questions.
And Steph won't even stay in the same room as him long enough for him to try to get answers for some of them.
"Have you noticed? Ms. Head is gone."
"What, really?"
"Yeah, we've got a sub."
"Who is it?"
"That library assistant, Ms. Gordon. She seems nice, I guess."
"I got you a gift, Mister J!" Harley says.
Jason eyes her idly. She's favoring one side over the other, and she's got a black eye, but she's been worse, that Jason can remember. She's resilient, that Harley. Whatever thrall the Joker has her under, it's deep. He doesn't know who Harley used to be, but whoever it was, she has to be long dead by now, buried beneath the twisted loyalty and devotion.
"A gift?" The Joker looks up from his current meal, and grins. "Why, how thoughtful of you!"
"I mean, it's your birthday, and I wanted it to be special!" Harley giggles, and kisses him on the cheek. She's terrified, and Jason can't exactly blame her. He's never seen her disobey Joker like she did, releasing those two brats. The fact that Joker didn't kill her for that is pretty telling; despite everything, Joker's got a soft spot for her.
"Well don't drag it out," Jason says, pulling himself up. He's trapped here until sunset, and he's always up for some new entertainment, and Harley is very good at that.
"Ta-da!" Harley says, pulling out a box from under the table. It's not wrapped or anything; it's just a sturdy, solid looking wooden crate, about twice the length of Jason's forearm. Wait, no, she has wrapped it—there's one of those premade ribbon flourishes taped to one side.
The Joker opens it with a flourish, and then he freezes.
Then he laughs.
"Harls!" He picks her up, spins her around, and kisses her on the lips, with a cackle. "Your brilliant! What a treat!"
"What is it?" Jason says, sitting upright.
"An arm," the Joker says, giddy with delight in a way that Jason hasn't seen in a very long time. It's almost nostalgic, if he felt nostalgia.
"What, that's a good gift?" Jason says, vaguely offended. "When I gave you a severed leg, you told me I was making a mess!"
"Not just any arm, kiddo! The arm of Killer Croc."
".. the demon?"
"The demon who eats everything," Joker confirms. "It's said he ate entire towns."
"No weapon forged could kill him," Jason says, almost dreamily, as he recalled the lore. He'd loved those kinds of stories when he was a kid, studying lore, first with his mom, and later with Bruce. He can probably recite the stories about Killer Croc from heart, even though it's easily been a decade since he last held any of those old books. A demon called upon in order to try to purge the wicked, but instead, it just ate everything, because the humans trying the summoning had never heard of conversational Latin. "It took an army to beat him."
"And even then, they couldn't kill him! Just chop him up into tiny bits!" Harley says. "So I've been collecting them! They should all be here by tomorrow!"
"Well," Jason says. "I guess that gives me a day to make sure our Slayers are out of commission, huh?" It took an army to beat Killer Croc last time, but two Slayers were a pretty close equivalent.
"Guess it does!" Joker says. He slaps him on the back. "Have fun, kiddo!"
Jason grins, his face in its vampiric form. "Absolutely, Pops."
"I've heard some weird rumors through my network," Babs announces.
"What kind of rumors?" Steph asks. She and Cass are in the library, with the three Watchers in front of them. It feels weird, not having the others around, but it's for the best.
"Someone's been moving some mystical objects. I'm not sure what, exactly, but there's something weird and demonic going on, and if all of the pieces get together, apparently that's bad."
"Do you think... the Joker?" Cass frowns. Her posture is perfect, her hands clasped behind her back.
"No use taking chances," Dick says. He pauses. "Have either of you seen Jason... since the incident?"
"I stopped by his crypt the day after," Steph says, her face going stiff at the mention of the events. "He was okay."
The three Watchers frown. "That was a week ago," Bruce says. "Stephanie, you go check on him, see if he's heard anything. Cassandra, go to the port, see if you can find wherever those artifacts are entering Gotham."
"Okay," Steph says.
"Maybe you should take Tim or Duke or Harper with you," Dick says.
"No," Steph says, far too quickly. "I'll move faster on my own."
"Me too," Cass adds, and then the two of them run out of the library.
"Well," Dick says dryly. "Nothing suspicious about that."
"I'll call Harper, you get Tim, Bruce gets Duke," Babs says. "We'll have a research party."
It feels weird, being back in the library. It's as if nothing has changed.
As if when he leaves here, he'll be going home, back to his parents, rather than back to a spare bedroom in Bruce's house.
Harper grins at him, tired. "Hey. It's the original three."
Duke snorts. "I guess it is."
He hadn't been close with those two before. He'd tried, in the past, but Tim had always pulled away, and there had been other people, other activities, keeping him from pushing.
But then he had met Steph, and he'd run over vampires with his car.
He couldn't leave this world if he'd wanted to, and he didn't, because leaving would mean leaving behind Harper and Tim and Kon—who had shown up without being invited.
Leaving would mean no more late-night study parties, knowing that he was helping, that lives were going to be saved because of him. It would mean no more Slaying, no more Bruce and Dick and Babs and Cass and Steph.
He'd lost a lot, and he wasn't about to say that it was a good trade-off, losing his parents.
But staying away wouldn't have guaranteed safety. Other kids lost their parents every day, to vampires and other causes. Harper had lost her mom years ago, and she hadn't fought them for a single day before she'd watched her mother die.
There were no guarantees, not for anything.
But Duke had already made his choice, and he isn't about to start regretting it.
"I've got it!" Babs declares, hanging up the phone. "Dinah, my contact in Star, says that the artifact that was stolen from their museum was supposedly the arm of an ancient demon known as Killer Croc."
"Well, that's a place to start at least," Bruce says. "Tim, try Jason Blood's Treatise on Demonology, that should at least give us a hint about where to consult next. Duke, you check the Watcher's Index and then check the appropriate Watcher's Journal. Harper, check John Constantine's autobiography, if there was trouble, he was usually involved."
Steph can't find Jason anywhere.
He's not in his crypt, and the place has been trashed. Blood is smeared everywhere, and the slab of marble that ironically serves as his bed has been cracked in two.
"Jason!" She yells, guilt flooding her, because she hasn't even thought to go check on him all week; she's been so busy with her own guilt and her own life, and she had just thought he wanted space, but he's gone, and he could be hurt or dead or captured—
She races out of the crypt, her lungs feeling like it's being squeezed by her ribcage as she tries to think of where else Jason could be, of what she can do next.
She pulls out her phone and calls him.
There's no answer.
Cold creeps up her spine, and she immediately sends him a text, asking if he's okay.
And another.
And another.
That's when a vampire attacks her.
It's some ordinary grunt, but he still manages to take her by surprise.
"Hey!" Steph yells, punching him, and grabbing for the stake in her bag.
Another vamp comes out, and then another, and before Steph knows it she's fighting for her life, swinging her fists and flipping out of the way, one of them ripping off her bag and throwing it to the side, meaning she doesn't have her stake.
It's frantic and wild, but there's a tree not too far away, and Steph manages to catch ahold of the low-hanging branch and pull herself up onto it, snap another branch off, and then jumps back off with a sweeping upwards kick, and then stake three vamps on the one branch.
The last vampire lunges at her, and Steph grins, because he's left himself open for an easy stake, and that's when she turns to dust on the spot, revealing Jason holding a stake behind.
"Jason!" Steph says, throwing her arms around his neck.
He shoves her off. "Whoa, Blondie. I know I'm handsome, but hands off the goods."
"Sorry," Steph says, immediately backing off. "What happened? Your place was smashed up, and you weren't answering!"
"Oh," Jason shrugs. "Just got into a scuffle."
"You didn't answer your phone," Steph says. "I was worried."
He snorts. "What, overcompensating much?"
She freezes. "What?"
"Look, Blondie, I've tried to be patient, but you need to just get over it. Just because you got a couple of people killed, doesn't mean you need to hover."
"I'm—" Steph reels back. "Jason?"
"Listen, I get it," he says, smirking at her. "But don't you have better things to do?"
"Than worry about one of my friends?"
He laughs. It starts small, and then he's doubled over, wiping at his eyes. "Oh, man. I haven't laughed that long in a while."
"Jason?"
"We're not friends, Blondie," he says. "I just said that because I didn't want the Joker to kill you, because it would be way too much trouble to help the next one down the line, and who knows, they might have been even worse at Slaying than you. But hey! Cass is here now, so it doesn't matter if you go off and get yourself killed, because she's twice the Slayer than you could ever be."
Steph reels back. "Why are you saying this?"
"Because you couldn't even do your stupid job, and kill the Joker! He killed me, and you're just letting him wander around killing even more people, because nothing matters but your stupid little normal life, and your stupid little friends." He snorts. "But you can't even do that right, can you? You're failing school, you put your friends in danger, and you can't even get your mom to believe you about vampires."
Her mouth is dry and tears are welling up in her eyes. "Jason I'm—"
"See ya, Blondie," he says. "I'm going to go find the real Slayer. She managed to at least save one person that night."
Steph stands there, alone, in the middle of the graveyard for a long, quiet moment, before her knees give out from under her and she starts to cry.
Harper's eyes are swimming from all of the reading she's been doing. Analyzing handwriting from the era of extra flourishes and fs that are really the letter s in disguise is giving her a headache, so she grabs Tim and goes off to find the vending machine.
"Ugh, I hate this so much. Don't any of these books have any new information about Killer Croc?"
"No, Tim, that would be too easy. It's all "No weapon forged of man." "It took an army." Like, they really need to get a thesaurus."
The door at the end of the hallway opens, and Jason pokes his head through. "Oh hey Harper. Tim."
"Jason! Did Steph find you?" Harper says, sighing in relief.
"Must have missed her," Jason says. "Hey, I've got something to show you. Tim, go get the others."
"Sure," Tim says, and then dashes towards the library.
"What have you found?" Harper says, moving towards Jason.
"It's amazing," Jason says. "You won't believe it."
"Harper, don't go near him!" Ms. Head is there all of a sudden, her skirt swirling around her in the faint light of the hallway.
"Ms. Head?" Harper looks over her shoulder, confused. "I heard you were gone."
"Harper, come towards me," Ms. Head says. She's holding a pendant of some sort in her hand, holding it out like a shield.
"What?"
"That's not Jason."
Harper pauses, confused, and that's all that (not?) Jason needs, because before she can take another step, there's a hand around her throat and she's been yanked backwards and there are fangs an inch away from her neck.
Harper screams, because the breath on her neck is cold, the hands are clammy, and it's just like what happened to her mom, just like she's been afraid of happening every day since that awful night, when she was protected by nothing more than a magical barrier.
"Wrong!" He laughs. "I am Jason! At last."
"Oh God," Tim says, hovering behind Ms. Head's shoulder, his face pale. Harper looks at him, her eyes wide, wondering if he's about to watch her die.
"I've got a message for Blondie," he says, his voice too close to her ear.
"Why don't you tell me yourself?"
Harper feels her heart rate slow, even as Jason grabs her and spins to face the other direction. It's Steph, it's Steph's voice. Everything is going to be okay.
"Well, it's not really the kind of message you tell. It sort of involves finding the bodies of all your friends."
"Jason. You've got to fight it," Steph urges. "This isn't you."
"You're really stupid, aren't you Slayer? Sorry, your buddy's dead. All that's left... is me."
"Leave them alone," Steph says. "I'm the one you want."
"But she's so scared. It's adorable, really." Suddenly, he's cut off by a howl of pain, and he releases Harper.
She catches a glimpse of Tim, holding his Star of David necklace in his hand, before a hand grips Harper and yanks her back, behind Tim and the safety of the holy symbol in his hand.
Jason stalks towards Steph.
"Well, this should be fun."
He grabs Steph, and for a moment, it looks like they're embracing.
"Jay-"
She's thrown backwards into the wall, and the door slams open, and all that they can hear is the sound of Jason's laugher.
Harper scrambles forward towards Steph, who's still slumped against the wall, staring at the door. "Steph? Are you okay?"
Someone turns on the light, and now, Harper can see her clearly.
She's pale and her clothes are dirty and torn. Her hair is a wild, tangled mess. Her eyes are red, and there are tear tracks still shiny and damp on her face.
She doesn't answer Harper.
"You're wrong," Dick says.
Talia and Steph both look awful. Talia has bruises around her wrist, and she's clinging her Hamsa amulet tightly. Meanwhile Steph is completely silent, and she's leaning against Harper, and still refusing to look at Duke or Tim.
"He can't. He wouldn't."
"My orb of Thesulah that was bonded to Jason's soul shattered," Talia says.
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Bruce demands.
Talia looks away, her lips a thin line. "I—I was delayed in warning you. My father—he strenuously disagreed."
"Why did this happen?" Steph asks, her voice hoarse. "How?"
Talia looks at her, and unbends slightly. "I—I didn't know this. There was a clause. In the spell."
"A clause?" Bruce asks. Dick's heart is in his throat.
"He felt peace," Talia says. "He was happy, pure and simple. And that broke the spell."
Dick collapses into his chair.
"I am sorry," Talia whispers. "I didn't know."
"Cast it again," Steph demands. She stands up. Her legs are unsteady, but she shakes off Harper's concerned arm. "You cast it once, you can cast it again! You can stop this, before it gets any worse."
Talia looks at her, and then she looks away. "I can't."
"What?" Dick is not the only one who asks this.
He's known Talia for years, known her since before he'd even known Jason. He's never seen her like this.
"The spell is not a simple one to cast," Talia says. "It took… I had to use my father's supplies in order to cast it."
"Talia," Bruce says, pale.
"My father is recalling me home," Talia says. "He's already… I can't cast that spell again. I don't have the power, the supplies. My father even destroyed my computer where I kept the spell."
"Well, screw him! Do it anyways!"
"I can't," Talia says. "I'm sorry, Stephanie."
Steph lets out a furious cry, and lunges at Talia.
Cass appears, and she pulls Steph back. "Don't," Cass says. She's covered in dirt and blood and demon slime of some sort, and she looks exhausted. "What are you doing?"
"Jason's gone," Steph says, and then she turns around and hugs Cass. Her shoulders begin to shake, and Dick looks away, feeling intrusive for seeing them like this.
"The Red Hood's back," Talia confirms, her voice soft.
"Talia," Bruce says. "What will your father do?"
Talia looks up at him, her eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion. Despite the grey in her hair and the beginnings of age lines around her eyes and mouth, she's every bit as beautiful as she was the day they first met, when they were both young and foolish.
"He's calling me back home. He says he'll send an agent to watch the Hellmouth… and you."
"And Jason."
"He doesn't care about Jason," Talia says. "He never has, Beloved."
"Jason's mother—"
"Was a Potential. Not a Slayer." Talia shakes her head. "He's obsessed."
"He doesn't know about Stephanie?" Bruce says, a fear that he never knew he even needed to feel crawling up his throat.
"Not as far as I know. And I will keep it that way." Talia raises a hand to tuck a hair behind her ear, and Bruce catches her wrist gently.
The bruises around her wrist are thick and ugly. As if someone very strong had held her. "Did he do this?"
Talia pulls her hands away, and Bruce hates it when she looks like that, when she looks afraid. "I need to leave."
"Talia…"
"I love you," Talia says. "Please, believe this. I only wanted to give you your son back. I didn't know about any of the rest."
"I know," Bruce says. "You're nothing like your father."
"I'm too much like him," Talia whispers, shaking her head. "That's why I have to go back."
"Stay," Bruce says, like he's said so many other times before. "Talia. I can keep you safe."
She reaches up and cups his face with her hand. He presses his own against hers, smelling the familiar jasmine scent of her perfume.
"You can't. Not from him."
The kiss is bittersweet, and all too short.
She breaks it off and turns to move away, her eyes full of tears.
"I love you too," Bruce says, just a little too softly, when she's almost too far away.
But he knows that she heard it.
"Steph," Duke grabs Steph by the wrist when she's about to leave. "We need to talk."
Steph looks at him, and she feels cold to the bone, exhausted, and she just wants to curl up into a ball and never speak again, but…
She owes Duke this.
"Yeah," she whispers, and lets Duke pull her into the stacks, into the warren of the library.
She looks at Duke—brilliant, clever Duke, whose life had been so good and so normal before Steph had dragged him into her world and ruined everything.
She can't meet his gaze. She can't stand to see his hatred there. He's one of her best friends—he was one of her best friends, it's important that she keep the tenses right. She doesn't want to see how he looks at her, now that she's ruined his life.
"Why did you do that?" He demands.
"What?" Steph frowns. This isn't where she expected this conversation to go.
"You threw me out. You locked me out of my own house."
"Oh," Steph blinks. "I didn't want—you don't want to see that." She shakes her head. "Duke they—they were your parents. I didn't want you to have to fight them. I didn't want you to—if you're going to hate someone for killing your parents, it should be me, I—"
"Wait," Duke interrupts. "You think I hate you?"
Steph laughs. "Why not? I do."
"What?"
"I killed him," Steph says. "My dad. He became a vampire, and it was my fault, and then I killed him. And he kept asking me—he kept calling my name, asking for my help, asking me to save him, to let him go, to spare him." She laughs, again, trying not to go back there, to the smell of the warehouse, to the sound of her father's screams as he and the other vampires trapped in there burn, to the feel of the ash on her skin. "You don't deserve that. You shouldn't have to hear that. Better for you to hate me than hate yourself."
"Steph—" Duke says, and she turns away.
"I get it," Steph says. "I'll keep out of your way—"
"No!" Duke yells.
And the next thing she knows, he's thrown his arms around her, hugging her from behind.
"Steph. I don't hate you." Something damp is pressed against her back, and she realizes, with a wrench of her stomach, that Duke is crying. "You're—you're one of my best friends, and I—I don't blame you. Not for any of it. It's—it wasn't them, and I know that, and… I miss them so much, Steph." He's sobbing now, the force of them shaking both of them. "It's not fair, Steph. It's not fair."
Steph grabs Duke's hands where they're joined around the middle of her stomach, and tilts her head back towards, towards him, and lets her own tears flow freely.
"I'm sorry," she says, staring up at the ceiling while Duke embraces her. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"So, you two are good now?" Harper asks, when Duke and Steph finally come out of the stacks.
"Yeah," Duke says, smiling at Steph. Steph looks like she's been through so much, already.
It's been a long, long night.
"Is now a bad time to remember that the Joker and Harley are trying to resurrect an ancient demon that eats entire towns?" Tim asks, looking up from the book that he'd been reading.
"A demon which took an entire army to beat," Harper complains.
"Who needs an army?" Cass sniffs. "We have two Slayers."
"That doesn't really help us with the fact that "no weapon forged" can kill him," Tim says.
"Are you sure? I have a lot of weapons," Steph jokes. "I've got swords, and crossbows, and longbows, and maces, and morning stars, and most importantly, I've got pointy sticks!"
"… oh!" Duke says, sitting upright. "I've got an idea!"
"Should I be worried?" Harper says.
"Maybe," Duke admits. "Listen, Steph, why don't you go and get some sleep? We'll handle this part, and it's almost three in the morning."
"I'm fine, Duke," Steph says.
"Uh, no." Kon says. "Even I know that's crap. Listen. I'll drive you home. We'll leave the nerds to their… nerd stuff."
"Research," Tim says.
"Nerd stuff," Kon repeats. "Look, today has sucked massively, and tomorrow's also gonna probably suck, but like, three hours of shut eye will probably make tomorrow that much more bearable, right?"
"Technically, it's today already," Steph says.
"Well, fine, if you want to be a nerd about it," Kon says. "Look at you, they're catching, we're getting you out of here now." Kon takes Steph by the arm and escorts her out of the library.
Duke watches them go, and grins.
"Okay, so what's the plan?" Harper asks. "Or did you just say that to get Steph to go to bed, because honestly, I dig it."
"No, I've got a real plan." He looks at Harper, and then he looks at Tim. "We're going to need a wig, a dress, and a pair of heels."
"… I don't like this plan."
"Don't worry about it," Duke says.
"I really don't like this plan," says Tim, adjusting the wig.
"Look, you make a more convincing feminine girlfriend than Harper, we tested this," Duke says, adjusting his uniform.
"Where did you even get that uniform?" Tim demands. He's surprisingly balanced on the high heels, although Harper had still insisted on giving him wedges that weren't too high, just in case.
"I stole it from Jean Paul. He's JROTC."
"Really?"
"His dad made him. Me and a few friends have been inflicting pacifist philosophy on him, so we think he'll make it out soon."
"… how do you have time?"
"I don't sleep," Duke says. "Anyways. Follow my lead, and don't say anything."
Tim looks outraged.
"Do it for Steph," wheedles Duke. He's still plumbing the depths of Tim Drake's brain, but he's fairly certain that this will work.
He does catch Harper taking a covert photo as the two of them head onto the military base, but he figures he'll mention it to Tim at a later date.
Bruce opens the door to his home, and he stops flat in his tracks.
Almost every photograph on the wall has been pulled off their hooks, the glass forming a fine layer over the floorboards. The photos themselves have been ripped and torn, the frames snapped in half.
The only photo left standing is the one taken so shortly before everything went wrong—the one from Babs and Dick's graduation. Dick and Babs are in their black and gold graduation robes, their hats tilted to the side as they embrace, Jason smushed between them, laughing. Bruce stands with his hand on Dick's shoulder, a rare smile on his own face.
No—he's wrong. There's another photo. A new photo. It's been nailed into place.
It's a photo of Cass, Duke, Steph, Tim, Harper, and Conner, at Homecoming, the six of them laughing. It's a bad print—probably from social media, on normal paper instead of photo paper.
But that's not what stops Bruce cold.
It's the way that all of the faces are scribbled out with black marker, and numbers are written over Cassandra and Steph.
The numbers two and three.
"You haven't lost your touch," is scrawled beneath the photo, in Jason's familiar writing.
There's the sound of crunching glass, and Bruce spins around, to see Dick standing there.
"Where's Duke?" Bruce asks, voice heavy.
"He and Cass are off running an errand. I saw that the door was open." Dick looks around. Swallows. "We did this."
"No."
"We left him alone with her," Dick says. "If we hadn't, maybe he'd…"
"She was his mother," Bruce whispers, because he'd asked himself that same question time after time, these past ten years. "He wanted to spend time with her."
Dick punches the wall. "We only just got him back!" He yells. "It's not—we only just found him again."
And they won't be getting him back this time. Talia can't cast the spell, and no one else they know has even a fraction of her power, even if they could find the spell or the ingredients again.
This time…
Bruce might have to do it, what he couldn't bear to bring himself to do the last time.
He might have to drive a stake through Jason's heart, for the sake of the entire world.
Jason carefully puts the last of the pieces of the demon in place, watching as a bright, terrible glow begins to emanate from them.
He shields his eyes but refuses to look away.
The fresh blood from earlier has filled his entire body with a thrumming energy that he hasn't felt for a long time. Or maybe it's just the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline of the kill. Certainly no animal blood or blood bank donation bag has made him feel like this.
He's ready to go, ready to kill, in a way that he hasn't been since he had stumbled away from the kill, content and smug from a job well done, only to feel himself doubled over in pain as someone—Talia, but he hadn't known that then—wrapped him in one of the oldest curses known to humanity.
Now, he's back, and he's eager for the taste, not just of blood, but for Slayer blood. The last time, it had been the most wonderful thing, higher than any adrenaline rush or drug could ever give. The feeling of pure euphoria, and the strength that followed…
And that had been an ordinary Slayer, who hadn't known him from any other vampire in the entire world.
This time, it was going to be Blondie, or maybe Cassandra, or even both. And either way, he was going to enjoy this.
The glow of Killer Croc's resurrection began to fade, and he grins.
"Hungry," Croc groans.
"Don't worry, big guy," Jason says, grinning ear to ear. "We've got a nice all-you-can-eat buffet lined right up for you."
"I know your birthday isn't for two weeks, but happy birthday!" Harper says, gesturing broadly with a grin on her face.
"What is this?" Steph says, staring at the heavy wooden crate that her friends have placed in the center of the table.
"Your birthday present! I was going to get you a gift card, but I thought, we should do something special this year," Duke says with a completely straight face.
"So my present isn't a drag show by Tim?"
"No, that's just a free bonus," Kon says, patting his boyfriend on the back.
"And not a moment too soon," Bruce says. He looks exhausted, and Steph can really relate to that.
"No present for me?" Cass demands, but she's smirking.
"When's your birthday?"
"No idea. My father did not believe in birthdays. Or holidays. Or breaks."
There was a moment of silence to respect the living horror that was Cass's childhood.
"… well, we'll think of a day, and get you something," Duke says, clapping his hands together. "The point is! We have a plan, now we just need to figure out where things are going down."
Cass frowns. "Can't I… just punch him? Seems… complicated."
"Cass," Tim says. "It says it took an army last time to beat him."
Cass tilts her head to one side, clearly not understanding Tim's point.
The problem was, Cass probably had a point.
"We can punch him together?" Steph offers, weakly, but she can't quite get Jason's comments out of her head. Cass likes being the Slayer; loves it, and she's good at it in a way that Steph can't even dream of being. If anyone could one-punch Killer Croc into oblivion, it would be her.
"We can argue about Cassandra's ability to one-punch a demon that consumes everything in his path after we figure out where he is," Bruce says, and yikes, he's pissed. Steph immediately shrinks back, gripping her wrists behind her back and trying to imitate Cass's at-attention stance.
"Well, it's got the munchies, right?" Harper says, oblivious to Bruce's displeasure or uncaring, or both. "So he'll want to start in a crowded area, with lots of humans to snack on after his really long nap."
"What, like the Cave?" Duke says with a frown.
"Can't be, the Cave is closed this week," Tim says automatically.
"… where else is there?"
"The strip mall?" Kon volunteers.
"Wait, we have one of those?" Steph blinks.
"Yeah, I mean. It's not as popular as it used to be, because online shopping, but people still go there."
"Well, this might be what finally pushes it into closing," Steph says. "Alright, let's go!"
She turns around, and pauses.
"Hey, where's Cass?"
Cass hotwires Bruce's car and drives to the mall.
She's not good at driving, per se, but she's getting better, and anyways, it's really easy to get somewhere fast when you treat stop signs as suggestions.
She makes it to the mall in record time, and, sure enough, people are pouring out of the mall and screaming, so she's definitely in the right place.
She grins and runs towards the monster.
The others don't understand. It's not their fault; they are used to dealing with Steph, who has very little training. Even Bruce seems to not understand what Cass is capable of, what she has been taught to do. Bruce is a very good Watcher, but… Father must have been better, because Father always understood exactly what Cass could do.
She finds the demon standing in the Food Court, flanked by the Red Hood and the Joker. There is no sign of the woman Harley Quinn, but Cass's attention is really only on Killer Croc.
The demon is eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and horrific, clawed hands. His face is that of… well, a crocodile, and there's no reason that Cass should be surprised by that, but demons are rarely quite so literal, in her defense.
"Hungry," the demon, growls.
If Steph were here, she'd probably have some sort of snide commentary about the food court being closed for business, or maybe even a pun, but word play is difficult in English, and Cass knows what she's good at, so she picks up the nearest table and throws it at the demon.
"You're not the one we expected," the Joker laughs, as Killer Croc stumbles backwards under the force of the blow.
"We should have," the Red Hood says. "She's the only one who knows what she's doing. She's finally figured out that Blondie would slow her down."
Cass growls and throws herself across the food court.
The demon is as ferocious as the books said. He is strong and powerful, and everywhere she turns, his mouth is, snapping open and shut, seeking food… seeking her.
He is a difficult fight.
It would normally take an entire army.
Cass smiles, and reaches inwards.
Her father, her Watcher, he taught her to do this so long ago.
Inside of herself is a tangle of magic. It is ancient and untamed, dark and light, strong and yet brittle, stretched thin as a wire but coiled around every part of her.
And she grips it in her mind, even as it tries to slip away from her, and she pulls on it.
The power flows out, into her, through her limbs and her mind.
Everything is sharper, faster, better, now, including her.
She grins, and she begins to fight.
She doesn't need fancy tools or tricks.
She is Cassandra Cain, the Vampire Slayer, and all she needs is herself.
Kon's van pulls into the mall parking lot, and yep, there's panicked people, and also a really bad parking job with Bruce's car.
"Is it still running?" Bruce asks, frowning.
"Is that really what you're focusing on right now?" Steph demands.
"Good point. Steph, go in there and help her, Duke, Tim, Harper, help me move into position."
Steph nods, and throws open the door, going running towards the sound of the screaming and the smashing of furniture.
When she gets there, she stops straight in her tracks.
Cass is glowing.
Or well, not glowing, not exactly.
A thick, dark aura is wrapped around her, almost pitch black in color, the darkness of it almost blotting out her features entirely. To Steph's instincts, she's almost completely indistinguishable from a demon, and if it weren't for the way that she moves, she might almost believe that it's not Cass, fighting Killer Croc.
What is she doing?
How is she doing it?
If Steph had needed further proof that Cass was capable of far more things than Steph was as the Slayer, here was her proof.
Somehow, Cass had accessed something, and it was making her… more.
Steph could certainly never move that fast.
The way that Cass was moving was impossibly graceful and fast, faster than any vampire that Steph had ever seen. As Slayers, they could keep pace easily, but Cass was surpassing them easily.
She was right. She doesn't need Steph's help.
The Joker and Jason—no, not Jason, she can't think of hima s Jason, not now—just stand by and watch, as mesmerized by this scene as she is.
Of course, as Steph realizes this, Killer Croc's mouth opens wide, and he only misses Cass by an inch. Cass spins away, but suddenly, the aura around her flickers, and Cass trips over a fallen chair, sprawling onto the ground, completely vulnerable.
"Hey!" Steph yells, desperate to distract the demon from Cass, who is blinking slowly on the ground, and still hasn't gotten up.
She stands on the food court table nearest to her, and she feels a flicker of relief as she spots the others, dragging the heavy crate with them as they go.
"Hey Ugly! Look at me!" Steph calls.
Killer Croc turns towards her, away from Cass.
"Who are you," he hisses.
"I'm the one who's going to kill you," Steph says, putting her hands on her hips and speaking with every inch of bravado in her body.
The demon laughs, and wow, Steph never needed to hear that.
"No weapon forged can kill me."
"That was then," Steph says, as Duke hands her the rocket launcher.
She props it up on her shoulder. The Joker and the Red Hood immediately scramble out of the way. Harper has already grabbed Cass and dragged her away.
Which means Steph has a nice, clear shot at the demon.
The resulting explosion is quite possibly the most satisfying thing Steph has ever done. Way better than therapy. Or at least, way better than the therapy that she's had, which mostly consists of therapists trying to get her to admit vampires are a hallucination, rather than dealing with trauma.
As the fire suppression systems go off, Steph looks around, and realizes that Jason and the Joker are both missing.
"Gather up the pieces! Keep them apart! Cass, go that way, I'll go this way! We need to find them!"
Steph darts forward, through the smoke, and goes to find the demon that's taken the place of one of her best friends.
She catches up with him outside of a Hot Topic.
"Hey Blondie," he says. The sprinklers are still going, soaking them both through. Steph struggles to breathe, as she looks at him. He looks almost exactly the same, but somehow, he's… different. Crueler. Angrier. More deadly.
Steph puts up her fists, and swallows down her pain. "What's the matter? Scared to fight without your daddy to back you up?"
His face twists into its vampiric visage, and that's better, she can at least pretend it's not him when he's looking like this.
The battle is tough, tougher than anything she's ever experienced before. All of those times she tried to get Jason to spar with her, and now, of course, it's for real, and it's deadly. He's good, he's easily as good as her, maybe better. He's not ancient like Black Mask or Joker, he's not fresh and untrained like the fledglings she finds in graveyards. He's skilled but full of energy, not yet reaching the heights of his powers, but deadly enough despite it.
Steph kicks him through the window of the store, sending glass everywhere.
She breathes heavily through her nose and pulls her stake out of her jacket.
She strides up towards him, each step feeling like it's covering miles.
He's pushing himself up, but pauses when he sees her, his face returning to his normal one.
Seventeen years old.
"You can't do it," he says. "You can't kill me."
"Try me," Steph snarls, hefting the stake up and grabbing him by his shirt collar.
"Aw, c'mon Blondie, don't be mad," he laughs. "You're my best friend."
She freezes, and he laughs again.
"Knew it. You don't have the balls," he says.
Steph's fingers tighten in his shirt, and she should do it. She should kill him. Turn him to dust, because who knows who else he'll kill, who else he'll hurt. He knows her too well, and he's got allies, he knows her Watcher, he knows her friends, and if she doesn't stop him now, will she be able to later?
But he's Jason.
"Face it, Blondie," Jason says, reaching up and forcing her fingers to let go. "You can't kill me."
Raw, unbridled rage surges through her, because he's right, and she hates it, and she hates him, and—
She lifts up her foot and kicks him right where it hurts, with all of her Slayer Strength.
He lets out a pathetic cry, and drops to his knees, the smug look gone.
She breathes out heavily through her nose, the water from the sprinklers hiding her tears.
"Give me time," she whispers.
Then she goes to find her other friends.