Hi again, people! This is another installment of the White Rose, but now, the main characters will be mine! So, in a way, if I ever do became a famous writer, this is how it'll turn out, but there will still be mentions of the original Teen Titans. –I'd add a disclaimer, but those things are stupid. Everyone knows that no one here owns Teen Titans

But I have to warn you; this chapter will be dull. Very dull. This merely shows how the Titans have lived the past eighteen years since The White Rose. You do get a chance to get a feel for the children, however, so this chapter is not all that useless.

For the past eighteen years, they had lived in fear. Never knowing when or if your greatest foe was watching your children, plotting their demise, or merely playing with emotions to have them so wired that they couldn't function as parents.

But somehow, the five survivors of the White Rose era managed to get a foothold in a normal life. They married, had children, and dabbled in real jobs that paid real money.

Starfire, whom seemed to interest the White Rose killer's the most, had a total of six children with her husband, Robin. When she had been pregnant with her first children—twins Shiamar and Samara—she had taken it upon herself to have a little chat with the school board of Jump City High (she couldn't bear working at the private school, for it held too many raw memories). When held captive, Mallory and Starfire had discussed her home on Tameran. When Mallory had mentioned that she knew nothing about the different planet, it had clicked that she could teach the next generation more about her homeland. So when it was passed that Tameran studies could be an elective, Starfire took a brief vacation to study up on her planet's history. She was gone for a month, which had Robin nearly pulling his hair out, for he was trying to wrangle with a outgoing son who got into everything, and a broody daughter who found it entertaining to whack her brother over the head with anything she could get her tiny hands on. It hadn't helped that Starfire had been pregnant, again, save for this time, it was triplets: Adara, Dahlia, and Kiranne. (Robin couldn't remember any of his family producing twins or triplets, which had him scratching his head for a while, until Raven offhandedly said it was because they were at it two and three times a day, even when they had found she was pregnant). Their last child, Lucan, was ten years younger than the twins, but was easily the most babied of them all. When Starfire returned, and her children were at a good age, Starfire became the first Tameranian teacher to ever live on Earth.

Her class became the talk of the school, and nearly everyone, from grades ninth to twelfth, wanted to take it. And it was not her wonderful teaching that had students—mainly boys—interested in the course. Even at the age of thirty-six, Starfire was easily the most beautiful person within a hundred mile radius of Gothem City. She was still tall and willowy, with a tiny waist and a body that had even teachers drooling. Her hair was cut shorter than in her younger years, but was still long, and always pulled back by cute little clips or twisted at her nape with some frilly ponytail holder. Her face had matured greatly, but she still looked only to be about thirty, if even that.

Robin found his calling when he stumbled upon (quite literally, as he was chasing after his twins when Shia purposely tripped Sam and sent her into a full blown rage) a ragged dojo that hadn't seen occupants since the eighteen hundreds. It was dingy and dust infested, but it had grabbed hold of the warrior in him. He tracked down the owner, offered a hefty sum of money, and within days, he became the proud proprietor of the Falcon Dojo of Martial Arts. When the wooden floors were waxed to a brilliant shine and the paper doors were recovered, the building became a perfect example of the Japanese dojo. Outfits were ordered and bokkens and Iai-to's were bought. Robin's business had started out slow, with only the children of the White Rose victims attending, but soon enough, Robin found himself teaching up to forty children in one room. His little dojo skyrocketed, and before he could realize what was happening, his business was earning him thousands of dollar for teaching self-defense. It helped that his children helped him, especially Dahlia, whom he found was nearly perfect with weaponry and hand to hand combat. She became his personal assistant, and he finally ended up paying her for her service.

Raven had picked through many things. She tried dark poetry, but found that to get old, fast, especially since she had been pregnant with her first child, and the little devil had forbidden her to be gloomy. Then, when passing by a club where teenagers were sulking about because they weren't allowed in, for alcohol was served, it clicked in her mind that she could create her own club, for teens and adults. Her mind had whirled with possibilities while her daughter Grey stretched contentedly in her womb. She had spent her first two pregnancies figuring it out. Below would be the club for teens only, where soda was served and anyone could get in. But above could be where the adults lingered, so both were happy. Of course, that would require someone to watch the stairs at all time, which would mean a little less money, but once her mind was set, Raven started. Months later, after hunting for a place, insurances, finding entertainment, and designing it perfectly, The Raven was easily one of the most popular clubs in Jump City, for every teenager hoping to prove themselves by having fun and not drinking flocked to it. By the first year, The Raven had earned more money than Raven knew what to do with, and she decided to hold back most of it for her children's future.

Raven, as well, had changed in the past eighteen years. She was still small and had a sarcastic streak that had people backing off wearily, but there were now laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, for her husband and children had finally brought light into her dark world. Her hair was long, but was always pulled back in a braid or ponytail, so she could easily clean up her club or order people around without it getting in the way. The clothes she were cool colors, because despite the fact that she was no longer as Gothic, pink didn't suit her. She did, however, have a favored pair of combat boots that no one could take her away from. Bumblebee helped around the club, and found her talent at bartending.

Beast Boy, after all the tofu jokes from Cyborg, decided to prove that tofu was popular and that there were people out there who would enjoy it. He scouted out buildings in hopes to find somewhere were he could start his hopefully successful business, and had smacked into his pregnant wife when turning a corner. She had just come from signing the deed to her place and had asked him what he was doing. Beast Boy, from his spot on the ground, grudgingly admitted that he wanted to open his own tofu place. Raven shook her head, listed all the things he would have to accomplish, before laughing and telling him that there was an empty building beside hers. He scrambled over to the structure, loved it, and bought it. Amazingly, people in Jump City really did love tofu and salads, and Logan's Leaf became quite a hit. It worked out wonderfully that the people from his wife's club always came next door to grab a bite to eat when they puckered out from the dancing. Thankfully, when Kira became old enough, she became his number one chef and people from all over flocked to try her amazing food.

Hannah was now a multimillionaire. Her power rivaled that of Bruce Wayne in Gothem City, but the fame never went to her head. She ruled her company with a kindness that was unique to tycoons, but knew when to put her foot down and become a hard-hitting bitch when someone messed with her. When she wasn't working on making her company bigger and better, she took time to invest in Jump City High, and helped build a new, better school with more chances for students to become active, like adding an Olympic sized pool so a new swim team could begin and an open field for archery. Every person within her building loved her, and even those who pushed seventy refused to retire. She never replaced someone because of age, and her interns all strived to become like her. But the moment she came home, she was a mother. Her main concern was her children, and if she got a call for business during her kids' parties or recitals, she refused to leave them. However, when it came to a point where she had to leave, she would bring them with her, and even had a designer create a playroom that was adjacent to her large office.

Hannah had grown into an amazingly attractive woman, even with the scars from her past marring her body and heart. She did walk with a slight limp from her knee injury, and there were times when her shoulder pained her so much that she was forced to a chiropractor (most times, her husband had a helping hand at soothing the pain). Her hair was still long and curly, but she kept it pulled back in a bun or French braid. Her daily work clothes were suits, but she always softened them with a lace camisole beneath the strict jacket and usually left it unbuttoned.

Ethan had gone to college near Hannah while she built her empire up again, and had majored in politics. He was dead set on fixing the wrongs his uncle had caused, and for years he dabbled in politics. When elections came for mayor, Ethan jumped in, and became the youngest man to ever become mayor in Jump City. He was only thirty-five. He had some troubles, for people couldn't forget the problems his uncle had caused, but after awhile, he gained their trust and help lead a city to peaceful times.

Mallory took it upon herself to help teens through troubling times, and became a physiatrist for children. She earned a Master's degree in Physiology, but had to earn it little by little after giving birth to two other boys after Christian. When at first she tried to open her own place, but had no money—it wasn't easy, considering Wyatt was struggling to help with the payments on the garage he owned with Cyborg and they were helping their twelve year old move to Harvard—Hannah had invested in a beautiful place close to her company for Mallory's twenty-sixth birthday. Mal had at first been unsure how to act, and swore over and over that she would pay her back for it when she got them money. And she did. In no time flat, parents were begging her to help their troubled teenagers, and offered her thousands of dollars at a time. Overwhelmed, Mallory had sat down and talked with the teens by herself, and it was a proven fact that over ninety-eight percent of her teenagers straightened up and resumed real lives that didn't involve drugs. There were those who were too far gone to be helped, and though it took a serious toll on her when they committed suicide, turned to drugs, or were locked behind bars, the children she was able to help kept her going. Her main focus, however, were children who had been raped and blamed themselves for it.

She had, on more than one occasion, cried along with her patients, and that was the reason she was so loved. She wasn't stuffy, and she didn't lie to them. She broke when they did, and offered them comfort when they needed a shoulder to cry on. She had gang leaders threaten to kill her when she delved too deep, but by the end of the secession, she had them relaying their worst fears while she held them. But while she managed to pry their worst times from them, she told them of her mistakes, and how she had ended up a teenage mother.

She was still amazingly little, with her hair cut short and layered around her soft, heart-shaped face. She still wore nine earrings in each ear, which helped relax some kids, and usually came to work with jeans and a shirt, for she did not believe that suits and stiff clothing helped matters any. It was quiet a surprise for all over her patients to look up and see their therapist walk in with her hair piled on top of her head with sweatpants and a sweater, and plop down in her chair with her feet curled under her slim body and a smile that could calm a raging devil.

Wyatt loved his garage, he really did, but Cyborg got to be a pain after awhile. He struggled with payments for a short time, but with Cyborg's amazing skill, the money rained in and suddenly it wasn't as hard to keep his head above water. With the help of Cyborg, Wyatt became a masterful mechanic, and found that he much preferred the details more than the metal. So Cyborg did the tune-ups, faulty break lines, and engines, as Wyatt did the paint, upholstering, and graphic designs, and their business took flight.

Harley, at first, tried to be a reporter, but it held no room for her outrageous personality. It had been too boring, for it required a calm person who kept her emotions in check. Harley was not the woman for that job. So she spent the next eight years as a stay at home mom raising Sebastian, Krista—who was two years younger than Bastian—and Talon, who had born exactly eleven months after her sister. But when Talon left for preschool and left her at home, by herself, Harley finally found what she wanted to become: an investigator for her husband and Twain. It fit her personality perfectly, for she was a total snoop and could easily wrangle the truth from anyone—especially her husband. At first, Colt had been weary. She had already been in enough danger already and Colt knew he couldn't lose her a second time. But she was hell-bent on going to college and getting her degree, so during the day, while her children were at school, Harley studied. But as luck would have it, when Talon turned six, she ended up pregnant again. It didn't stop her, however. Up until she was seven months pregnant, Harley went to school. When Mackenzie was born, she took a brief break, but kept studying, even with a newborn cuddled in her arms. It was then that Harley decided to get her tubes tied, for all of her children were exactly like her. There was no black sheep in her family—save for Colt, but it was okay, because five hellions (including her) were enough. Bumblebee watched Mac when she took her courses during the day, and finally, Harley finally graduated. It was then that she forced—she was one scary woman when on a mission—Twain to hire her and partner with her husband. Colt had no say in it, but truly, her preferred it, for he could keep an eye on the little sneak when she became trigger-happy.

Harley had barley changed since she was seventeen, and still toted the ribbons (even on the job) in her hair. No one knew how to think of her, most debating on if she was adorable or annoying, but people still loved her anyway. At nineteen, her braces had finally come off and her teeth were now straight. She seemed to take on more freckles as time passed, and each of her children took them on as well (they all happened to be blonde, with curly hair and sea-foam eyes, as well).

Colt had not been pleased when Twain ushered his adorable wife into his office and told him she was his new partner, but Harley gave him very little room to decline. She proved to be quite helpful, though most of the time he was banging his head against his desk as she flew into a full blown rage when something went wrong. After awhile, when things became comfortable with having his wife as a colleague, Twain appointed Colt as head detective. It entitled losing Harley as a partner, but it brought in more money. It was a rather dull job, for most cases were minimal compared to eighteen years ago, so he was stuck mostly with simple cases.

Twain was found to be a master at leading the police force, and by the time he had dug his claws into it, the Jump City Police Force was one to be reckoned with. No longer did they depend upon the Titans to do the dirty work, and as it happened, the Titans worked side by side with them. His oldest son, Connor, had found his love to be in Forensic Science, and had just graduated with a Bachelor Degree at the age of twenty-two. Twain had allowed him to dabble in his department, to let him get a feel of real science before he leaped back into school to get his Masters Degree.

And after awhile, though the worry hung over their shoulders, they shoved aside the fear and went on with life. It wasn't perfect, for fights did break out and they had their differences, but all in all, things had gone almost perfectly. Their children grew up to be normal teenagers with normal problems (if sidestepping the fact that the humans grew up around superheroes who were known to use their powers to pummel each other and watching their equally powerful parents pry them apart with their own superhuman strength) and suffered through bouts of everyday problems.

As the eighteenth anniversary of Darcy's death approached, they, even if for a brief moment, forgot about the pain and fear of the White Rose. But life was never kind, and before they could realize it, their fairytale life was coming to a crashing halt.

"I'm going to kill you, you little heathen!"

Starfire sighed as she sipped her coffee, idly picking a speck of lint from her blouse as her oldest daughter slammed into the main room, eyes alight with fury. "Lucan, I swear on all that is holy, if you do not give me back my diary, I will rip you apart piece by piece!"

Beside her, Robin casually flipped through the newspaper. "Lucan, give your sister her belongings. Sam, don't threaten your brother with bodily harm."

Samara threw her six foot three body into the chair beside her father, angrily tossing her long ponytail behind her shoulder. "Dad, he broke into my room, raided through my underwear drawer, and stole my diary, which he is at the moment reading and giggling like a little girl while looking as gay as he really is."

Robin sighed and peered at his daughter over the paper. Her cheeks were flushed with her anger, scowl twisting at her full mouth as her fingers clenched tightly. She looked so much like him that he found himself shaking his head in wonder. "Lucan!" He called out, fighting back a grin when said boy dragged himself toward him, head lowered and clutching the black book guilty in his hands.

"Don't steal your sister's things, especially when they are in her underwear drawer. And Sam, please, stop calling your eight year old brother gay."

"Yeah, Sam, stop calling your baby brother gay."

Shia walked into the main room with the always present grin and made a beeline for the refrigerator. She scowled at his back, arms folded over her chest. "He stole my diary again, the little brat."

"It's boring though. All it talks about it Christian and how much she loves him." He yelped as Sam dove out of her chair, plucking the diary from his hands and throwing his body over her shoulder. "You. Are. So. Dead."

"Don't get blood all over the floor," Robin said airily as his daughter took her victim into the hall.

Shia chuckled as he kissed his mother's head, as he always did in the mornings, and sat down next to her. "Typical Friday morning." He lazily peeled the skin from his banana as he stretched out his six foot seven frame, legs crossed at the ankles.

"Hmm." Starfire drank the rest of her coffee before climbing up to refill it. It was a nasty habit, but Starfire figured that she needed something strong to kick her system into gear every morning.

"I talked to Christian this morning," Shia said around a mouthful of fruit.

"Really? How's he doing?" Starfire propped a hip against the counters, hands folding around her coffee mug.

"Good. He decided that he's going to come back home and start working at Jump City hospital. Said he rather do his years as a resident at home instead of in a different state."

Starfire smiled. Christian had been away at Harvard for the past eight years, getting his degree in Medical Science. He was only twenty-one, but had the mind of a genius, with an IQ way above two hundred. He had earned his high school diploma at ten and had shipped off to Harvard after scoring the highest SAT score in the last ten years. Starfire had always known there was something different about the boy, for even at the age of two he was amazingly smart. She remembered it clearly, the complete sentences and the scary logic that he had been gifted with at such a young age.

"When is he coming?" She asked, exchanging looks of amusement with her husband. It was a known fact that Samara was madly in love with the boy, though she hadn't seen him in person since Christmas two years before. She had only been sixteen, then, still a lanky little girl trying to decipher feelings she was new to, and Christian had been nineteen. He was mature beyond his age, and had only seen her as a little sister, but it did nothing to stop Samara's full blown crush.

Wonder what he'll think of her now, she mused with a slow smile.

"Soon," Shia said with a mischievous grin. "Real soon, actually."

"Does Sam know?" Robin asked, laughing when his oldest child slide him a devilish smirk.

"That will be interesting," Dahlia said from the doorway, arms folded over her chest and eyebrow arched slightly. Despite it being six thirty in the morning, Dahlia was completely dressed, hair still wet from her daily morning shower. Shia smiled at his younger sister, immediately jumping up to wrap her in a bear hug, which he knew she hated.

"How is my beautiful black rose?"

"Suffocating."

He laughed, dropping her back on her feet, but still keeping his arm around her shoulders. "You can keep a secret, right?"

Dahlia looked at him dully. "Gossiping is my forte, you know," she said sarcastically.

Unaffected by her attitude, Shia laughed. "Well, I'm sure you've heard the Christian is coming."

She nodded. "And?"

"Well, he'll be here soon."

Dahlia duck under his arm and moved toward the bowl of fruit on the bar, idly grabbing an apple before rubbing it over her shirt. "So I gather."

Shiamar sighed, narrowly missing Grey as she burst into the room with all the glam of a rock star. "Morning!"

Dahlia cringed slightly. "Where do you get all the bloody energy so early?" She muttered, lazily shoving all of her hair to one side.

Grey grinned, hands on tiny hips. "Same place you get all the sarcasm." She winked at the younger girl, lavender eyes alight with humor. "Hand me one of those, will you?"

She caught the apple easily, immediately crunching into it with vigor as she plopped down beside Robin and plucking the newspaper from his fingers to flip to the comics. Robin blinked down at his empty hands before he sighed and forced himself up to make himself a cup of coffee.

"When's Kira coming to make breakfast?" Grey asked, glaring lightly at Shia when he took his father's seat. "I'm surprised she hasn't started anything yet. She's usually the first one in here."

Shia eyed the apple in her hands before snatching it, turning his back quickly when she let out a surprised, "Hey!" and dove for her food. He bit into it with a grin. "Good, very good."

She scowled, popping him over the head and jerking her treat back away from him. "I'm going to go wake up my lazy ass brother," she pouted, sulkily studying the large bite missing before setting her teeth into it once again.

Dante Logan groaned in annoyance as he stretched his long body out beneath the covers, clutching a pillow to his chest and trying his best to ignore the pounding at his door.

"Sleeping!" He snapped groggily, jerking to the other side and shoving a pillow over his visible ear.

"Awh, come on, Sleeping Beauty. It's time to wake up."

He scowled beneath the pillow as his older sister burst into his room and leapt onto his bed, bouncing heavily until he was literally tossed off the bed. He grunted when he landed face first on to the wooden floor.

"Rise and shine, Beauty."

Reluctantly, Dante pulled himself off the floor and sat, rather moodily, so he faced his sister. She was sprawled on her stomach, chin cupped in her hands while her feet waved back and forth.

"Do you really have to wake me up like this every morning?"

She smiled and scooted up, gently ruffling his hair. "Of course. If I didn't, you'd hit snooze every time your alarm would go off and sleep the day away. Now, I'm off to see why Kira's not cooking yet."

Dante sighed, rubbing his bleary eyes with the back of his hands. "You depend too much on her, Grey. She thinks it's expected of her to cook every meal in this house."

She sat up, swinging her legs over the bed and scooting off it. "Dante, you really don't know her very well. She likes to do things for us. I guess it makes her feel needed, though we've tried to show her she's more to us than that. Her lack of confidence really scares me," Grey admitted softly, all humor gone. "One of these days she'll be forced into something she doesn't want just to fit in."

He ignored the tug at his heart as he did everyday and stood up, lazily walking to his closet and snatching a pair of faded jeans from a hanger. "Why do you say that?" He asked with a yawn, jerking the jeans over his boxers. He didn't even bother to button them as he bodily threw himself into a chair. He folded his hands over his flat stomach and slouched down.

She picked at the black polish covering her claws. "Richard Stevens is interested in her."

He rolled his neck, cringing when it crack. "And?"

"And, he's known for cornering her in the hallway when no one is around and trying to talk her into a date."

He kept his face neutral as she smoothed down her skirt. "Where are you going with this?" He knew without her answer why it bothered his sister. Richard Stevens had a sickly sweet charm that attracted any female between the ages of ten and eighty. His appeal was almost as strong as Shia's, though the half Tameranian was in a relationship before he slept with them. Dick, as Dante like to call him, took the girl out, wooed her in what little time he knew her, and pounced, throwing up countless skirts and breaking hundreds of hearts when he dropped them the next day, if even that late. If Kiranne finally allowed him to take her out, there was no telling what she would let him do. She was too innocent and too self-conscious to know that the only reason Dick wanted her was because she wouldn't push him off when—there was no if in his mind—he tried something.

Usually, there was always someone around Kiranne to keep him at bay, whether it was her sisters or Grey, but they couldn't follow her around everywhere she went. One of these days, they wouldn't be around, and that bastard would try to work his sleazy charms on her. If he ever got his claws into her, Kira would lose everything, including what little confidence she had in herself. She wouldn't know how to handle a horny male with only one thing on his mind and it rubbed her entire family raw that someone like Stevens would try to pluck every innocent thing about her away because she was a challenge.

Grey threw him a dirty look. "Don't play stupid, Dante. He wants her badly, and there is no telling what lengths he'll go to get her. Poor thing won't know what to do when he tries to get in her pants."

"Grey," he snapped, irritated at the anger that boiled in his veins at the thought. "A little couth, please."

"Well, hell, you know it's true. She hasn't even kissed anyone, much less had to deal with a guy wanting sex from her."

He groaned slightly. "Seriously, Grey, what does this have to do with me? You jumped way off topic here."

Idly, she arranged her long violet hair over her shoulders, plucking at the loose ends. "She loves you, you know."

He frowned as his heart gave an uncomfortable tug. "Grey, stop. You know as well as I that there is no way I can be with her."

"Why?" Grey demanded, leaping off the bed and planting tiny fist on her hip. "Why in the world can't you be with her? What reason do you have to not want her? I know it's not because you don't find her attractive. I mean, look at her! Guys would kill to have her. It's it because she's taller than you in heels? Does it bother you that she's your height, if not a little bit taller? Huh? Is that it?"

Groaning, Dante rubbed his hands over his eyes as his head fell back in aspiration. "It's not that, Grey." He scowled and aimed an annoyed look at her. "Besides, she is not taller than me. I have at least an inch over her, if not more."

Grey fought back a grin that tugged at her mouth at his chagrin. "Whatever. But why? Do you know what it would do to her confidence if you showed some interest in her?"

Annoyed with the conversation they had nearly ever damn morning (Grey was always trying to browbeat him into seeing Kiranne as more than just a friend) Dante pushed out of his rolling chair, angrily fixing his jeans and ripping a random shirt from the closet. As he fought it over his head, he muttered, "She's too damn innocent for me, anyway."

Grey snorted loudly, drawing a very demonic scowl from her baby brother. "Too innocent? Too innocent? Dude, you can't be serious! That's the only reason you won't be with her? Because you wouldn't be able to sleep with her without guilt at deflowering her?"

He stared at her. "Did you just say deflowering?"

She frowned at him. "What would you rather I say? Taking her virginity? Popping her cherry?"

"Awh, dammit, Grey, stop that. Don't…gah," he said in annoyance, jerking the shirt down over his jeans and running a hand through his black locks. "And it's not just that," he added after a long pause. "You know I'm with someone."

"For sex," she snapped. "What is it with men and being whores? You're one, Shia's one, Chase is one. You all are. I can't believe Adara slept with a guy, though considering it was Cameron…guess I can't fault her for that, seeing as he was a virgin, too. At least he was doing good."

"Does it really matter why I'm with Miranda? So what if it's just for sex? There is nothing wrong with that."

She gave him a withering look. "I can't believe you."

"Look," he said with heat, snatching his brush off the dresser and shoving it through his disheveled hair, throwing it to the floor when it caught on a tangle. He rubbed his sore scalp, his mouth twisted with a frown. "I just…do you know who hard it is to not hurt her? I'm naturally sarcastic, and almost everything I say is taken wrong with her. I'd have to be one guard all the time and weigh my words. It's too troublesome to think about everything before I say it."

He grabbed a cologne bottle, scowled at the label, before spraying it on angrily. Grey was pleased with the scent, even more pleased that he put it on in the first place, before she said, "She does not get hurt by your sarcasm. In fact, she's immune to it. Besides, the only time you talk to her is to fault her for something or other. You always correcting her on what she does and you offer her no praise at all, so yes, she does get hurt by you, but it seems intentional."

"I don't do that," he snapped, but he knew it was true.

"Yes, you do. You never call her Kira, which makes her think you aren't comfortable around her, and refuse to let her do anything for you, which makes her think you don't want her to try and do something nice."

"I don't. I can do things fine on my own. Besides, it annoys me that she's always trying to make others like her by doing their dirty work when all she really has to do is breathe—stop grinning. You look like an idiot," he bit out, irritated with himself for letting that slip.

"I see…you do like her."

"Shove it, Grey."

She grinned, folding her arms innocently behind her back. "Okay. I see, now. Well, I have to go wake our Virgin Goddess—gotta give Chase credit for the cute nickname—and see what's taking her so long." She walked toward the door, happily oblivious of the dirty look he drilled into her back. But before she walked out, she turned to him and smiled. "Just don't feel like a louse when that Dick kid takes away that innocence that it purely Kiranne because you're a whore."

Dante scowled as the door swished closed, arms folded over his chest. "Stupid prying little weasel."

Kiranne stared at her reflection, mouth turned down in a frown. There wasn't much there, she thought gloomily, gathering her hips length curls in her hand and trying to arrange it sexily, hoping that maybe it would add some allure to her plain face.

She sighed and let the mass tumble down her back. It was no use. There was no way she could appear even half decent. She was just…there. There was nothing that stood out about her, save for the weird eyes. But people took one look at those, labeled it strange, then immediately compared her to her beautiful sisters. They won hands down, leaving her in their shadows as the ugly duckling.

Shoulders sagging, Kira quickly braided her hair, tossing the long length behind her as she moved away from the disheartening mirror. She slipped on her white shoes as she sprayed her favorite perfume on. It had been a gift from her older brother and was one she wore every day. She smiled down at it before putting it back down on her vanity.

Her smile faded, however, when she spotted the clock. It was six forty-five, and breakfast should have been down thirty minutes ago. Kira nearly ran from her room, sliding down the hall and narrowly missing Grey.

"Whoa, there, Kira. What's the rush?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I was late with breakfast. I'll get to it right away." She fought back the urge to bow in shame as she hurried down the hall.

"Kira, don't worry about it. We can always get something on the way to school…" She trailed off with a sigh. "That girl needs to relax."

Dante was not a happy camper when he walked out of his room, only to have the reason for his troubled mind slam into him, nearly knocking him over in his shock. Instinctively, he reached out to steady her so she didn't force them both to fall.

"Jeez, where's the fire, Kiranne?" He bit back a flinch at the anger in his voice, watching guiltily as the pain that flittered over her unique eyes as her cheeks heated with humiliation.

"I—I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going and…" She bit her lip as she pulled away from him, head lowered. "I'm sorry."

He watched her scurry around the corner, conscious beating him for being such a jackass.

He yelped in surprise when his sister stomped on his foot with her boots, the six inch heels digging into his skin painfully. "Jerk," she sniffed, dainty chin jerking up.

She stomped down the hall, and Dante groaned as he followed.

Starfire watched in fascination as Kira breezed in with feline ease, immediately heading for the kitchen, where she pulled out the ingredients to make breakfast. "Morning, baby," Robin said from the couch, peeking over to see what was going on.

Kira smiled shyly at him before she cracked open an egg and dumped the content into a huge white bowl. "Ooh, food." Shia run toward her, effortlessly leaping over the counter to watch everything she did. "Need help? I mean, you do have to feed fourteen kids and six adults—"

It was then that the doors opened and kids off all ages poured out, followed by a bed-ragged Beast Boy, an annoyed Raven, a composed Bumblebee, and an excited Cyborg.

Kira blinked, head titled slightly before she went to work, idly handing Shia a cartoon of eggs. She let Shia crack them while she flicked on all six burners and sat large pans on each one. She laid down sausages, and while they cooked, she turned to heat tofu meat and waffles for the vegetarians.

Raven let down her youngest child, watching as the four year old Haven scuttled off to find something of interest, deftly sideswiping Cyborg's twin boys as they jumped into their daily brawl.

Beast Boy drearily sat beside his youngest teenager. "Mornin', Dad," Malachi said, blinking blearily when his father dropped his head onto his shoulder and closed his eyes with a yawn.

The main room roared with the talk of teenagers as they plopped down at the long table, already set with plates, forks, napkins, and glasses. Ada jumped up to grab the orange juice from the fridge as Kiranne deftly flipped the meat, a white dish towel hanging from her shoulder.

Cyborg plucked his two boys up from the floor, effortlessly tossing them into their chairs while they laughed and poked fun at their older sister. Sophie frowned at them, whacking the oldest twin, Racer, over the head with her magazine when he said something rude about her hair.

Raven watched the pandemonium with a smile. It was like this every day, no matter what time it was. Bumblebee stood beside her and sighed. "I wonder if we'll ever get a moments peace."

Starfire patted her back with a laugh. "Never," she said. "I'd have to question my sanity of it ever did get quiet."

"I know that's right," Raven muttered, watching as Kira heaped seven separate bowls full of eggs and sat it down at the table. Hands reached out immediately to grab their food. Swiftly, she sat down the huge plate of meat and managed to pull back just in time as greedy hands darted out.

And as always, Kira set out six different plates, which were meant for the adults. They sat at the bar, always had since the tower because crowded with kids, and dug in. Kira leaned against the counter, far away from others, and picked at her own food. That was the same too, just as it was when Sam picked up her plate, leaped onto the counter beside her shy sister and started a random conversation.

When done, Sam put her plate in the sink, kissed the top of Kira's head, and said, "Thanks, Kiddo." Kira blushed with gratitude as she set her own down.

"Amazing as always, sweetness," Ada said as she plopped down her dirty dishes, leaning over to kiss her sister's cheek with a smack. She was followed by Grey, who did the same, and before she could react accordingly, her brother twisted her around, lifted her off her feet, and kissed her forehead with gusto.

"What would we do without you?" He asked with shake of his head, wide mouth creasing with a grin.

"We'd be lost, that's what." Dahlia said, easily shoving him aside to toss her dishes into the sink. She studied her baby sister, long bangs falling over her eyes. "I swear we'd have a breakdown without her cooking."

Dahlia didn't miss the thankful glint in her brother's eyes as she patted Kira nonchalantly. It messed with heart to see it, for she knew that anyone in the room would risk everything for her baby sister. And she was one of them.

Shia let Kira back down, grinning happily when she flushed scarlet. "Now that is a miracle. You don't get compliments for our favorite darkling very often. She must be in a good mood."

"Screw you, Shia." Came her distant reply from the hallway, where she was on her way to sharpen her daggers.

He chuckled. "Naw, she just loves you."

Kira turned back to the sink, face flaming and a smile tugging at her mouth. It was nice to have everyone thank you in such a way, even if they were only doing it to boost her confidence. What they didn't know was that it was working wonders. She felt loved, which was the only real thing she needed.

Without thinking, she plugged the drain and flicked on the water, pouring in the lavender scented soap as she reached for a sponge to start the dishes. Her heart stumbled to a halt when a large, pale gray hand settled over hers.

"I got it," Dante stated lazily, plucking the lime green sponge from her hand and picking up a random plate. She watched him in fascination as he cleaned it, eyes widening when he handed the soapy dish to her. "Since you want to help so bad, wash it off for me."

He had to fight back a smile when she took it hesitantly, cheeks blooming in a deep blush. It was still there when they both put away the plates. Dante rolled his lavender eyes and pulled his hand back, accidentally brushing his fingers against her. He jumped when fire shot down his arm at the contact. Kira felt it, too, for the dish in her hand fell and shattered on the floor.

The main room went deathly silent, all eyes turned to see what happened. Dante stared at the ceramic stupidly before he sighed, kneeling down to help pick up the pieces. They moved at the same time, however, and their heads slammed together. Behind them, someone snorted as they tried to conceal laughter.

"Ouch," he muttered, hands rubbing the sore spot tenderly. His eyes lifted to Kira and he found her fighting back humiliated tears.

"Hey, come on, now. It's not that bad. It was just a really, really hard bump no the head. No need to cry over it." And without thinking, he reached out to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

Her eyes widened as he realized what he had just done. They both jerked up, Dante moving toward the couch as Kira nearly ran to the hall closet to fetch the broom. "Well," Raven said after a long pause. "That went well."

Blade wasn't particularly thrilled with Rebecca's daughter, though she did state his lust for the time being. She was pretty, he admitted, but there was no comparison to his Dahlia.

This girl was tiny, her hair much shorter than Dahlia's shoulder length mane. It wasn't even cut the same, so there was no way he could get a good feel for her when imagining her as Dahlia. He knew she would be insulted if she ever found that he could think of her when this slip of a girl was a far cry from his goddess.

He pulled away from her, disgusted when she ran a finger across the scar slashing across his back. "How'd you get this?" She asked, ignoring that dull look her threw at her over his broad shoulder.

"It is of no importance to you."

She shrugged, not at all insulted as she crawled from her bed, completely nude and without a care in the word. "All right. Whatever suits you."

She picked up her discarded underwear and slid it on. "Can I ask you something?"

He grunted as he pulled on his clothes. She took that as an okay, so she plowed forward. "Why are you so obsessed with Dahlia? I mean, you did scream out her name earlier, and it was really rude to do that, so I was wondering what makes her grab your attention. You don't seem like the kind of guy to want someone so badly. Usually, your kind couldn't give a flying freak about anyone."

She pulled her robe together, belting it loosely so it slipped open with the tiniest movement. "It's not too much to ask, right? I mean, I've seen her before. She seems like the kind of girl to kill now, ask questions later. She's a real bitch, too, what with the sarcasm and blink-at-me-wrong-and-I'll-rip-your-head-off look."

She smiled when his shoulders tensed in anger. "Then again, she is nearly untouchable. She won't let anyone near her, emotionally or physically, so I guess she'd be a hell of a challenge. Personally, if I were you, I'd go for Grey. But that's just me."

She sat down at her vanity, idly running a comb through her short black spikes. She watched him from her mirror, waiting patiently while he slid his sword holster over his chest.

"She…is special." He said after a long pause. "Something that I have wanted for years."

"No reason? You just…want her?" She nodded. "Sounds good. I have someone like that, though my reasons just because he's freaking hot."

Blade turned to look at her over his shoulder. "There is more to it than mere lust, woman."

She laughed, twisting in her seat to face him. "Well, then, Blade. Why don't you tell me?"

He turned away, ignoring her completely as he walked to the door. He stopped however, his hand resting on the doorknob. "I want her because it would kill him, to have something so precious stolen from him."

She stared at him, blinking rapidly. "Who? Dahlia doesn't have anyone like that in her life. Does she?"

Blade opened the door, but made no move to walk out. "She does."

"Who?"

She trembled in fear when an evil smile spread over his mouth.

"Chase Twain."

Eh, not a very good chapter, I admit, but it does help with the plot, especially since Blade has an ulterior motive for wanting Dahlia so bad. Hope it's not too disappointing for a main chapter and sorry for boring you to death with the beginning.