Author's Note: Chapter 14, the longest yet! There are still a couple chapters left for the first part of this story, so I'll try to get them up when I can. Okay, without further ado, Chapter 14 :)

*edited 02/27/20 for plot reasons*

An incessant knock on the door brought Stiles out of his head.

"Stiles! Open the door, it's me Tim."

He scrambled to unlock the door, maneuvering around broken glass and metal. When it swung open, he saw Tim crouched by the doorknob, credit card in hand. Tim raised his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty. I wasn't going to wait." His gaze dropped down to the blood on Stiles' shirt. "You're hurt. Where are you hurt?"

"My nose, Tim-"

"Let me see." Tim grabbed his face and examined his nose, probing it gently with his fingers. "That's definitely broken. We can go back to the Manor and Alfred can set it-"

"No!"

"Stiles…"

"I don't want to involve them." Stiles moved to another corner of the bathroom, putting some distance between them.

"But you called me," Tim said, taking a hesitant step towards him.

"And I'm starting to really regret it."

"Well I'm not leaving. You called me because you needed help." Tim looked curiously at the mess on the floor and then back at Stiles. "What?"

"It was already like that," he lied. The blue light, energy, whatever it was, he wasn't sure if he was ready to admit that it actually happened. It had felt like a dream. A weird, vivid dream. But dreams didn't cause real-life destruction, did they?

"Stiles," Tim was serious now, "what happened?"

Stiles shook his head fervently. He thought he could tell Tim, but now he was so full of shame that he couldn't even look him in the eyes.

Tim walked over to him and put steady hands on his shoulders. "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"I-" Images of the nightclub flashed through his mind. Ben's face as he was dragged away. It brought tears to his eyes again. "I got someone killed."

Tim's eyes widened in shock. "You what?"

"I swear Tim it was an accident. I tried to do the right thing, but I ended up making it worse. Oh god, I didn't even know his name until she said it. What if he had a family?"

Tim snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Look at me, Stiles. It's important that you tell me exactly what happened. Don't leave anything out. Can you do that for me?"

Stiles nodded and let out a shaky breath. "I joined the Russian mob." He paused and searched Tim's face, trying to gauge his reaction. His brows were furrowed in concentration. Other than that, he showed no outward emotion. It scared him not to know what he was thinking. "They were going to Mooney's tonight, and I thought I could finally find answers for my dad. There was a waiter. I didn't know for sure until I saw the flower...he poisoned Mooney's drink."

"You told her," Tim guessed as if he could read his mind.

"I did...but not after they broke my nose."

He expected yelling, disgust, anything really. But not what Tim said next. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was! You weren't there. I could have helped him. I could have-"

"They could have killed you. If anyone is to blame it's Mooney. Not you."

"Why do I feel so guilty, then?" He asked, slumping his shoulders.

"Because you're a good person, Stiles," Tim said. Then he added with a steely resolve, "I want to help you with your mission."

"I can't ask that of you." After seeing what happened to Ben, he didn't want to drag anyone else into his mess. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Too late. It's my choice. We're doing this together or not at all." There was no room to argue. For some reason, it made him feel relieved, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He didn't have to shoulder his burden alone anymore.

Tim grabbed his face again. "Let's set your nose before it ruins your modeling career."

Stiles laughed. "I think it makes me look ruggedly handsome."

Tim was against him returning to Alexei's alone, but Stiles countered that not going would be worse. They would definitely suspect something was wrong. Or that he wasn't actually who he said he was.

The thought of going back made shivers run down his spine. It was a huge gamble on his part whether Alexei actually wanted to talk or not. But he had to take that chance. Even though Ben was guilty in his own way, he still deserved justice. Alexei and Mooney couldn't get away with what they'd done. Ordering his death was nothing more than taking out the trash for them. It wasn't human.

Tim, seeing that he wouldn't budge, made a pit stop at Wayne Manor, stating that if they were going to do it right, they needed a few things (important things he emphasized).

Stiles waited for him in a secluded part of the Gotham Public Library. When Tim arrived, he had a heavy-looking backpack slung over his shoulder.

"What do you have there?" Stiles asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Equipment. If you're so insistent on going alone, then we need a way for me to be there with you." Tim held up a device smaller than his fingernail. "This is an earpiece. You put it in, and I'll be able to hear everything you say. You'll also be able to talk to me."

"And you just had it lying around in your bedroom?"

Tim handed him the earpiece. "It's a product of Wayne Enterprises. Quality wise, this is the best you're going to get. Bruce lets me toy around with some of the prototypes."

"So, you'll be with me the entire time." The idea put him more at ease.

"Oh, and one more thing. Actually two." Tim rummaged through his backpack and thrust a pen into his hands.

"A pen," Stiles said incredulously. "Well if anything goes wrong I can write a very convincing letter on why they shouldn't kill me."

"It's not just a pen, smart ass. It's a secret taser. It won't protect against bullets, but it can give you a chance to escape if anything happens." Tim then pulled out a black vest. "This is for the bullets. It's a lightweight, bulletproof vest. Just wear your hoodie over it and you should be fine."

"Wait, are you expecting me to get shot at? And where the hell did you get a bulletproof vest?"

"First, I like to prepare for anything. These aren't your usual two-bit criminals. And second, the internet. Now will you please hurry and put it on, we don't have a lot of time."

Stiles took the vest from Tim, but before he headed to the bathroom, he had to ask, "What do we do after that?"

"We wait." Tim said.

In the late afternoon, he got the call. Sergei was quick and concise- Alexei wanted to talk.

Tim was quick to fit him with the earpiece, and now he was walking towards the club with a little voice in his ear.

"I'm close by. If you need help, you know the word."

"Applesauce. Why'd we pick that again?"

"Because it's random. I'll know what you mean."

"And how are you going to help me? I know you can fight, but," Stiles tried to think of the right way to say it, "they have guns and-"

"Let me worry about that. Trust me, I have your back."

"Good to know," he said, stepping inside the club. Not yet nighttime, the atmosphere wasn't as lively as it usually was with only a few people at the bar and the rest of the place basically deserted. Sergei was sitting in his favorite booth and when their eyes met, he didn't say anything, just motioned to the stairs and went back to his cards.

"That's not a good sign," Stiles whispered, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"What isn't?"

"It's quiet."

Quiet was bad. In horror movies, it was always quiet right before something terrible was about to happen. He could practically hear the suspenseful music playing in the background as he climbed the stairs to Alexei's office.

"Just focus. And remember. Applesauce."

"Right, applesauce."

The door to Alexei's office was closed when he reached it. Stiles took a steady breath to calm his nerves as he readied himself to knock, but before he could, the door was open, Alexei standing behind it.

"Sir," Stiles said, straightening up.

"Come in, we've been waiting for you."

"We…?"

He peered into the office, his face paling when he saw Mooney sitting in Alexei's leather arm chair.

"Surprised to see me?"

"Who's that?" Tim asked.

"Ms. Mooney." His voice cracked slightly, but he masked it with a small cough.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Stiles get out of there. I don't like this."

"Sit, please." Mooney gestured to the empty chair opposite to the desk.

Stiles nodded weakly, tuning out Tim's increasing panic as he sat down. Mooney poured herself a drink from the bottle sitting on Alexei's desk. His heart quickened at the sight of the red wine filling her glass. It was a deep red, almost like blood. He wondered if Ben's blood looked like that after they shot him in the alley.

Mooney seemed to be waiting for him to say something. His nails dug into the armrests as he struggled to get any words out. "Uh, Ms. Mooney, I'm sorry about yesterday. I-"

His apology was cut short by Mooney's laughter ringing throughout the room. It was a stark contrast to her more serious, deadly demeanor the night before. "Well I sure as hell am not. You saved my life. Isn't that right Alexei?"

Alexei came around the desk to stand beside Mooney, his face pulled into a frown. "Yes, he did even though he was supposed to stay at the bar. I hope you won't make it a habit to go against my orders."

"No, sir," Stiles replied quickly.

Mooney put a hand on Alexei's arm. "There's no need to frighten the boy Alexei. If he hadn't come to our table, I would be dead. Or you. I am in your debt Derek. And don't take that lightly."

"I-"

"Thank her."

"Thank you Ms. Mooney."

"Call me Fish, please. I think you've earned it."

"Thank you...Fish." The name felt foreign on his tongue.

"I was commenting to Alexei here that I wouldn't mind if you tagged along for our other meetings. In fact, I would prefer it. But that depends on whether you want to or not."

Stiles was surprised that he had gotten a second opportunity to get close to Mooney. And from Mooney herself. He was hesitant to say yes, however, because she had tried to kill him, his throbbing nose a friendly reminder of that fact. But Mooney wasn't someone you said no to. "Of course."

"Then it's settled then." Mooney got up from the armchair. "I'll be leaving now. Goodbye Alexei. Derek."

She left down the stairs, and Alexei took her place behind the desk with his hands clasped together.

"You disobeyed me. But Mooney is right. You saved my life. So I will overlook it this one time. And being in Mooney's favor, it is a good place to be. We could use that to our advantage. Anything she tells you, you report back to me. Other than that, you're free to go."

Stiles couldn't get out of there fast enough. Outside of the office, his body shook as the anxiety of the meeting finally hit him. He had thought Mooney and Alexei were going to kill him right then and there, not give him a pat on the back and send him on his way. Lucky- that was what he was. He had to be more careful; he wasn't sure he'd get off so easy next time.

"Are you okay?"

He almost forgot that Tim was there, listening to the whole thing. "Much better knowing that I'm not getting killed. I was starting to get really hot in this vest."

"Meet me down the street."

"I'm coming." He said, racing down the stairs and past the bar. But not five seconds after he passed it, someone was yelling after him. He would have kept walking, the last place he wanted to be was at the club, but it wasn't his alias they were calling. It was his real name.

Stiles turned around to quiet whoever was calling him, but when he saw who it was, his jaw dropped in shock. "Applesauce."

"What happened!?"

"Shit. It's the real Derek." The werewolf was walking right towards him, angry scowl on his face.

Stiles did the only thing that he could think of. He ran.

Stiles writhed from underneath the heavy werewolf. "Get off of me Derek!"

Derek growled, knees digging into his back. "We have driven across the entire freaking country looking for you. So no, I'm not letting you go."

"We?" Stiles asked, pausing in his struggle. Who else was here? The whole pack?

"Scott's here, too. I left him at the hotel. I came for a beer and guess who I saw?"

"Stiles!"

Tim had finally caught up to them. Derek had chased him for two- or three- blocks before pouncing and throwing them both to the ground. Tim stood a foot away with a taser, poised to shoot if Derek did anything to hurt him. "Are you alright, Stiles?" He asked, watching Derek with weary eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Stiles said, lifting his head off the pavement to answer him with a smile. "Just having a friendly conversation."

Derek let him go reluctantly, raising his hands in the air. "Is he a friend of yours?"

Stiles stood up on shaky legs. "Derek meet Tim. Tim meet Derek. Dammit Derek, did you have to tackle me that hard?"

Derek shrugged. "You run fast when you want to."

"Oh jeez thank you. I was being chased by a maniac."

Derek sent a pointed glare in Tim's direction.

"Can you tell your friend to lower that thing? I'm not going to do anything...yet."

"Tim, it's okay. I trust him. Sort of."

Although he was tempted to let Tim shoot him with 50,000 volts for being such an ass during the whole kanima fiasco.

Tim lowered the taser. "Fine. But only because Stiles trusts you."

"Fine by me. Let's get this show on the road. Like I said, Scott's waiting at the hotel. And I'm not going back there without you. Jeep's parked around the corner."

"You brought Roscoe?" Stiles hadn't seen his baby in months.

"Roscoe?" Tim asked.

"My Jeep. I mean it's Scott's now since I couldn't bring it with us to Gotham."

Derek huffed in annoyance. "Are we going?"

"Yes, yes. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"I'm coming, too." Tim said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't know you. I don't trust you. And I'm not letting you take Stiles anywhere without me."

Derek shook his head. "You're not coming."

"I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"He's not, uh," Derek ran a hand over his face, "you know why he can't come."

Tim didn't know about the supernatural. Stiles wanted to agree with Derek, but Tim was stubborn and he wasn't about to be left behind. They were just going to have to avoid any werewolf topics. "He can come."

Derek threw his hands up in defeat. "Okay! Fine! Is there anyone else you want to invite?"

"No, let's go see Scott."

Seeing Roscoe, Stiles was hit with homesickness. He missed driving around Beacon Hills. He missed the independence it gave him. And most importantly, he missed his friends (even Derek's grumpiness).

The drive to the hotel was a long one. It was located in the outskirts of the city. Tim insisted on riding shotgun, probably stemming from a place of protectiveness for Stiles. Derek took some getting used to, and he knew that better than most with the whole 'I'm going to kill you' spiel when they first met.

Derek pulled up to the hotel parking lot. It was on the smaller side (it could almost be classified as a motel). They went up to the second floor using the back stairs. Apprehension and excitement had built up inside of him the ride over. Scott was actually in Gotham, and it wasn't some figment of his imagination. But he would be pissed that he called him just to say goodbye back in January. It wasn't one of his finest moments.

Derek swiped the security card and opened the door after it beeped green. Stiles walked in first but no one seemed to be inside. "Scott?"

The bathroom door burst open. Scott was standing in the doorway, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth like he was in the middle of getting ready for bed.

Stiles didn't know what to say, so he settled on just waving an awkward hello.

Scott retreated back into the bathroom and shut the door. He could hear the sink turn on and some gargling. Then the door was open again. "Stiles?" he asked as if he couldn't believe it was him.

"Yeah, it's me buddy."

Scott crossed the small room and pulled him into a hug. Then, he started to punch his shoulder. "What. The. Fuck?"

"Ouch." Stiles rubbed his shoulder. "I guess I deserved that."

"And so much more! You were missing. Actually missing! I came as soon as I could to look for you, but your scent went cold." Scott's face was twisted with such a fury he'd never seen before. "You cannot just run away, Stiles. You had everyone back home worried sick. Especially my mom."

"Oh." He didn't know any of that. "I was declared missing?"

It was Tim who answered him. "Bruce did. He had to."

Stiles sat down on the bed, feeling guilty as hell. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, you didn't." Scott was still angry, but the sharpness in his tone had subsided. "I'm glad you're okay. When you called, I thought something bad had happened to you."

"I'm glad, too. Now that this search is over, I can get some sleep." Derek threw himself on the other bed. Then as if something occurred to him, he rolled over to face Stiles. "What were you doing at a nightclub?"

"You were where?" Scott asked, incredulously.

"Actually, it's a long story…"

"It's not that long," Tim interjected.

"Thank you, Tim." He said, rolling his eyes.

"I have time," Scott said. "If at least to understand what is happening with you."

"I, um." His face heated up with embarrassment. He never thought he would have to explain himself. Least of all to Scott. Scott who could always see right through him, even when they were kids. "It started when my dad was arrested…"

Stiles told his story. His suspicions of a frame job. Vicki Vale's file. Leaving Wayne manor. Joining the Russian mob. Mooney's. Everything.

From the range of emotions that crossed Scott's face, Stiles knew that it was a lot to take in. He didn't think it was possible for Scott to get more furious than he was before, but his eyes were threatening to turn red with how angry he was. There was the alpha he heard about.

"I don't even know where to begin." Scott 's disappointment felt like a knife to his chest.

Derek was sitting up now. "I do, you gave my name to a whole bunch of mobsters?"

"In my defense, I thought you were halfway across the country."

"Still doesn't give you the right."

"Not important right now, Derek." Scott turned to Tim, who had remained quiet throughout the whole thing. "And you're okay with this?"

"Of course not." Tim sounded offended. "But he's stubborn. If I don't help him, he'll do it himself."

"Stiles, there has to be other ways." Scott said, basically pleading with him. "Other ways that don't involve putting you in danger."

"Did you not hear anything I said? The police are probably involved. Hell, even the FBI."

"Maybe my dad…"

"And he's going to buy into all this?" It was harsh, but he had to get Scott to see that he didn't have any other choice.

"Probably not," Scott admitted.

A cell phone started to ring. They all turned to Tim, who took his out and answered. "Hi, Alfred."

"It's Alfred?" Stiles asked, fidgeting with the string of his hood.

"Yeah," Tim covered the microphone with his hand. "He says it's important. I'm going to take this in the hall."

Stiles wanted to ask what it was about, because if Alfred said something was important, it usually was and then some, but he knew he lost that right when he left the manor.

When Tim was in the hall, Scott sat down next to him, his voice dropping in volume, "I know you Stiles. There's something you're not telling us. Why are you so dead set on this?"

Just like Scott to get right to the point. It couldn't hurt to tell them; he'd been sitting on his discovery for months without anyone to share it with. "I don't think something...human was behind by dad's framing."

That piqued Derek's interest. "What do you mean?"

"In the surveillance cams, it looks like my dad. The first time I saw them, I could have sworn it was him. But my dad couldn't have been there. He was coming to pick me up at school. I thought, how could he be at two places at once? Then, the answer hit me."

"Something supernatural." Scott said with a dawning realization.

"No one is going to believe me. That's why it's up to me to figure it out. Mooney was my only lead. Now do you understand?"

"I'm trying to. Although I don't agree with you throwing yourself into danger." Scott sighed. "I could call Mr. Argent and ask him to take a look at the Bestiary."

"There's something else." He didn't want to admit it before, but even now he could feel it thrumming under his skin. If he was going to be completely honest now, then he might as well do it all the way. Rip off the metaphorical band-aid. "I've been sort of...this is gonna sound crazy but hear me out. I've been shooting blue light out of my hands."

"Blue light?"

"I thought I was just imagining it. But then I exploded a corner store bathroom." If it didn't scare him so much, he would have laughed at Derek's gaping face. "It wasn't on purpose. I was just so angry. I don't know how I did it. It just happened."

Scott sat pensive for a moment. Then he got up to stand by the TV across from Stiles. "I want to try something. Alphas, they can see more than betas. Just, sit still." He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, they were a bright red. The first thing he said was, "What is that?"

Stiles shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "What? What is it?"

"I see it." Scott got closer. His hand hovered above Stiles' head. "It's all over you."

"Buddy you're leaving me in suspense here."

"I'm sorry." His eyes flashed back to their normal color. "The blue light. I saw it. It's like an aura surrounding you."

"I don't feel anything." Derek said, touching Stiles' head. "Still feels human."

Stiles slapped Derek's hand away. "That's because I am human!"

"Really because normal humans can't blow up bathrooms."

"I'm human." Stiles repeated. Then at Scott's hurt look he added, "Not that not being completely human is a bad thing. It's just, why now? I never could do this before."

"I don't know. But we could ask Deaton. Maybe he knows something. He is a druid." Scott said.

"Scott's right. Deaton's-" Derek shot up from the bed. "Your friend's gone."

"Tim?"

"He left. I don't hear him anymore."

Dante's Inferno

Dante's Inferno. The demon bar for the wicked creatures of the night. Constantine tried to avoid it like the plague. The demons here weren't fond of him and he wasn't fond of them.

When he had come back to this place, he hadn't wanted to stay long. But it was the only place he could think of to lay low from his captors.

Klarion's runes proved more challenging, however. The witches in the upper level owed him a favor (for what he wouldn't say) and he spent countless nights inside their circle as they chanted away.

He had to admit, it hurt like a bitch. Jason stayed with him most nights as he ran a fever and tried to expel the dark magic.

When he finally came back to senses, Jason was gone. The bartender had told him the kid had remembered something and had darted out of the bar, never returning.

He was going to miss the kid, but he was sure as hell better off far away from him. He glanced at his posse of ghosts and took another gulp of his beer.

"Your visitor is here," grumbled the bartender.

"How do I look?" He gave the bartender a cheeky smile.

"Like an ugly human." The bartender chuckled to himself before returning to his cleaning.

Constantine got up to greet Zatanna with a "hello, love" when she grabbed his cheeks and planted a kiss on his lips, effectively shutting him up.

When Zatanna pulled away, she quickly said, "That was for not being dead."

"Alive and drinking as you can see. They can't kill me that easy."

"What happened to you, John?" Zatanna asked, sitting in the stool beside him. "You've been gone for months." She glanced at the fading runes peeking from under his sleeve. When she recognized them for what they were, she took his arm and traced the markings with her finger. "These are dark runes."

Constantine took his arm back and rolled down his sleeve. "A gift from Witchboy."

"Witchboy?"

"Look Zee, does it really matter what happened?" He swirled the drink in his hand. "I got out."

"It does because I put you there. I thought you were-" Zatanna wiped her eyes. "I thought you were dead."

"Are those tears, love?" Constantine smirked, making her slap him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shut up."

"Don't go blaming yourself. Blame the creepy fucker who kidnapped me. This guy's more powerful than you can imagine and he's not alone."

"If that's the case, how did you escape?"

Constantine stayed silent for a moment remembering Claudia. She had vanished after the escape. He couldn't contact her. There were so many questions left unanswered. So much he wanted to say to her. "An old friend."

"Are you alright?"

Constantine ran his fingers through his hair, really itching for a smoke. "She was one of my ghosts. I can't even bloody remember why!"

Zatanna held his hand in sympathy. "I'm here for you John, you know that."

"Always."

Zatanna signaled the bartender for a drink. "A lot has happened since you were gone. The League got involved and even Madame Xanadu. There's a meeting today over intel. Did you-"

"Do I have any information? I learned a lot of things." Constantine frowned. "But that's it, I'm not getting involved Zee, I can't."

"Why not? You said this was bigger than us. We're the only ones who can stop it!"

"I can't." Constantine shook his head. "Every time I get involved someone gets hurt. I'm not doing it."

"You're no coward Constantine. I know you."

Her words struck a nerve, but he was too spent to argue with her.

At his lack of response, she said, "Fine. Act like a kid." She stood up and left a tip on the counter. "If you decide to set your feelings aside for the rest of the world, there's a seat reserved just for you." Zatanna waved her hand. "Ytpme knird."

"Real grown up yourself!" He yelled after her retreating form. Turning to the bartender, he shook his glass. "I need a refill here!"

"No can do, the lady cut you off."

Constantine growled. "Why I oughta...damn demons."

Gotham General Hospital

Jordan Parrish, explosives expert, former deputy of the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department, officer of the GCPD, and lastly Stiles Stilinksi's guardian.

The night of the ball, Bruce had found them both feet away from the door, Tim desperately trying to drag them outside. Parrish had been unresponsive, his body spasming from the uncontrolled laughter. When he saw Stiles in a similar state, smiling big and biting back his own laughter, Bruce thought he had succumbed to the gas too.

It was only at the hospital that he learned that Stiles had pulled through, but Parrish, sadly, was left in a comatose state with no hope of ever recovering.

Ever since, Bruce had paid for his expenses, making sure he was taken care of, and checked in on his progress every once and awhile.

And every time, they said the same thing. Nothing yet. Could be a couple months. Could be a year. Maybe more. So Bruce sat with him, silently begging him to wake up because he would know what to say to Stiles. He could get him to come back.

"He is so stubborn you would think he was me." Bruce said, hunched over in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. "I wish I could get to the bottom of this. Save him the grief."

"Mr. Wayne," a nurse poked her head into the room, "visiting hours are almost over."

"Thank you."

"No problem." The nurse left them alone.

"You're a good cop. Gotham needs more people like you." Bruce took his hand in his. "I will bring him home. I promise you. I will find a way."

There was a small twitch in response, barely noticeable if not for his sharp senses.

"Keep fighting, he needs you. Gotham needs you."

Watchtower Meeting Room

Bruce looked at all the faces sitting around the table. It was blend of members from the Justice League and Justice League Dark.

Zatanna entered the meeting room, and Bruce greeted her with a nod of the head, noting a lack of Constantine in tow. He had barely become aware of the magician's escape. It seemed she was unable to convince him to attend.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Now that we finally have everyone together, it looks like we can start this meeting."

He used his tablet to project a holographic image of the cut down tree from Beacon Hills onto the center of the table. "Two weeks ago, I sent GL and Flash to Beacon Hills, California to see if they could find the source of the increase in supernatural activity across the states. They found this, a nemeton, recently powered by the local wolf pack."

"To find a nemeton is extremely rare. They do not usually make themselves known." Dr Fate commented. "Recharged, it will act as a beacon to the supernatural."

Bruce pulled up a map marked with incident reports. "It doesn't explain why Gotham's suddenly become a hotspot. Not unless there is another nemeton that has been recharged in the city."

"It is in the realm of possibility. Gotham does have many convergences."

"Which begs the question, why recharge it now?" Bruce asked.

"Power. It has been said that the power of the nemeton can be harnessed; whoever wields it will have control over life and death. There are many who would desire such circumstances. Our search will be difficult."

"No, it won't. Because I have a pretty good idea who's behind it." Constantine said, walking through the door. "The guy who kidnapped me. He's been recruiting. Building an army more like it. He's got vampires. Werewolves. Even Witchboy's in his corner." He leveled a glare Bruce's way. "Listen, mate. I'm not here to join your little hero club. So don't go getting any crazy ideas. I'm here because I want to get the bastard who locked me up for nearly five months."

"Bats, what John's saying makes sense, considering what we found out from Enchantress." Zatanna interjected. "She said a faceless man attacked her. That he was seeking his revenge, looking for the 'light in the dark'. What if it's the same person?"

That was concerning. He didn't want Gotham to be ground zero for whatever was coming. "Then we will have to gather our forces. This man, or whatever he is, is preparing for war and the Justice League will be ready."

Green Lantern scratched the back of his head. "Isn't that a little drastic?"

"We've underestimated our enemies before and it has cost us greatly. Might I remind everyone what happened when Orm Maruis flooded Gotham and many other cities." Bruce said matter of factly. "I will not wait and watch as someone tries to destroy my city. Or anyone else's."

"I for one stand with Batman." Zatanna stood up. "When we find this monster we'll be ready. I know what I saw in my vision; it was horrifying." She shuddered. Constantine seeing her distress, held her hand, giving it a slight squeeze of comfort.

"I'm also behind you." Superman added, though the worry was clear on his face.

There were more declarations of support going around the table.

"Then this meeting is adjourned." He turned to Zatanna. "Thank you. And you Constantine."

"Don't go bloody thanking me yet."

The corners of his lips rose slightly in amusement. Bruce caught sight of J'onn by the exit and followed him out into the hallway. "Thank you for making it J'onn."

"And miss your spirited call for action? Not for the world my good friend." J'onn said. "I have other matters to discuss with you, however, Bruce."

"About Stiles?"

"Yes. I have some unsettling news. The boy has become involved with Fish Mooney." J'onn recounted. Bruce was alarmed by the name. "There was an incident at her bar. Stiles was not hurt badly, but I fear it will only get worse from here on out."

"With all this mess I haven't been able to focus on Stiles. I can't believe I've let it get this far." First he found out that Stiles had joined Alexei Volkov's ranks. Now Mooney. This was getting out of control.

"It was inevitable Bruce. But he is not alone." J'onn assured him. "I am close to taking him out of there."

"Your cover isn't blown?"

"No, he suspects nothing." J'onn changed into his cover, Dimitri Barkov. Bruce had caught Dimitri in an illegal gambling den. J'onn used him as his cover while the real one was in Blackgate.

An incoming call came through his microphone.

Bruce answered. "Alfred?"

Alfred spoke quick and hardly understandable. It was clear that he was upset. "Alfred slow down, what happened?"

"He has returned!"

"Who, Stiles?"

"No, sir." Alfred said, seemingly out of breath. "It's Jason. He's here."

Bruce suddenly felt faint. "What?"

"Is something wrong?" J'onn asked worriedly.

"He's alive, Master Bruce!"

When he arrived at the manor, Dick's motorcycle was parked haphazardly out front. Bruce tried walking calmly but found himself sprinting to the door.

Dick was waiting for him the foyer. He put himself immediately in Bruce's path. "Bruce."

"Is he?" He asked cautiously.

"It's really him, Bruce." Dick said, like he couldn't believe it either.

"Where?"

"In the study. Come on, everyone's already there."

Dick led the way to the study with Bruce following behind at a hurried pace. His gut instinct told him that it couldn't be true. Jason couldn't be alive. But the other half, it wanted to believe that somehow he'd come back to them.

Behind the doors to the study, he could hear muffled voices. He recognized Alfred's and Tim's, and there was a third that he couldn't quite pinpoint. He tried to match it to Jason's, but it'd been so long since he had heard his voice, he couldn't really remember what it sounded like.

Dick put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's going to be okay."

It was then he noticed that he had a slight tremor in his hand. "Thank you."

Bruce finally pushed open the doors. Whatever conversation they were having came to an abrupt halt when he walked into the study. They all turned to look at him. Alfred, Tim, and the person-no Jason- who was sitting in the chair in front of his desk.

It was his face, a little older, but it was him. The only thing that was different was a small streak of white in his hair. "Jason…?"

Jason's brows furrowed in thought like he was trying to recall something. "I know you."

Bruce looked at Alfred for an explanation. "He's suffering from memory loss, sir. It is a miracle he found his way home."

Jason was standing now, scrutinizing Bruce's face. "I-" He tapped his knuckles against his head. "Your name. I know your name."

"Jason, it's okay if you don't remember." Dick said.

"No, it's not. It's important. Your important."

Bruce stepped towards him. "Jason."

Jason's eyes lit up in recognition. "Bruce! Your name is Bruce."

All composure broken, Bruce rushed over to Jason and enveloped him in a bone crushing hug. The tears fell freely down his face. He released all his grief, his guilt. His legs gave out on him suddenly and both of them slipped to the floor.

After a minute, he could feel Jason squirm in his grip. "Your squashing me, Bruce."

Bruce didn't want to let him go. He was afraid that he would disappear the moment he did. But he could feel the warmth radiating from Jason's body. He was here. He was alive.

"How is this possible?"

"Bruce…"

"Sorry." Bruce released him albeit reluctantly. He looked into Jason's eyes, expecting to find blame. "Jason, do you remember what happened?"

"Master Bruce, perhaps it is best to leave the questions for later." Alfred quickly interjected, giving him a warning look. "Jason must be tired. He should get some rest."

Bruce cleared his throat, "You're right." He helped Jason up. "We can ask questions later."

"Why don't you show him to his old room, Master Richard?"

"On it, Alfred."

Dick guided a hesitant Jason out of the study. Tim looked like he had a million questions but opted to follow them out instead.

Alone, Bruce turned to Alfred. "Is it him Alfred?"

"He has his fingerprints, sir. His DNA, too. Biologically, it is Jason."

"I buried him. He was dead. I couldn't have made a mistake." Bruce would have known. There was no way he could have missed it.

"Stranger things have happened in Gotham."

"Coming back from the dead is a new one for me. Who could have the means to do that? And why? To hurt us?"

"Can we not enjoy this moment? He is alive, sir. There will be time for answers."

Bruce couldn't help but agree with him. Jason was back. His son was back. The how and why could wait. "He's a lot taller now."

"Quite." Alfred cracked a smile. "As I predicted he would."

"There's never a quiet night in Gotham, is there?" He said with a sigh.

"This once, I'm glad it wasn't."