A/N: So here we are… the endings. It's been fun, guys, and I hope you enjoy them. ;) By the way, I'm not sure WHEN it may happen, but there MIGHT be a sequel to this branching from the BAD ending. It depends on my mood.

Reviewer's Response:

DeathwishJV: Well, I passed the message along to the author of that scene… And you get a dream from Damian in two of the ends, but neither are the dark horrible ones that are probably NORMAL… You'll see. ;)

Hount-Walf: Ahhh! That was the longest chapter! Lol… Well, I'm a firm believer in the whole 'don't drag it out' idea. Here are three endings, ready for your perusal!

Anonymous: Oh, hi there, anon! I'm glad you liked it! :D Thanks for reading it, and I hope you find the endings as good as the rest of it!

Tyra Kinami: Sorry that y story doesn't focus so much on Tim or the other kids… Maybe poking at BlueMoss will get her to write more about his nightmares! Or maybe she'll just be flattered… Well, here you go, endings to find out just what happens to Dick!

pokerfacedcat: :D I'm glad you liked and reviewed all the previous chapters! Here is the end to your suspenseful waiting period! I hope you enjoy!

Damian glared at the dark sky above the alley he was crouching in. How could he have messed up disarming that bomb? It was a stupid rookie mistake, and he had been disarming – and building – bombs since he could hold the tools necessary. He, Damian Wayne, Robin and son of the Batman, had failed. And Grayson had seen it. That was worse than the knowledge that he had failed in his mission. He didn't want to face his father or any of the strays that had become his family yet; did not want the sympathy, pity, or mockery that was sure to accompany their greetings.

So, here he sat, tracer disabled, in a filthy alley littered with old newspapers and the garbage overflowing from a nearby dumpster. A petulant scowl overtook his features, and the young boy pulled the hood of his cape over his hair and switched the victim of his glare to the ground. He was NOT pouting.

A soft high-pitched sound jerked his attention from a crack in the pavement, whipping around to face it. Surprised, Damian blinked at the small walking pile of dark grey fuzz that was staring up at him with exceptionally blue eyes. The kitten mewled again, tottering towards the boy a little unsteadily. The current Robin stared at the feline as it climbed over his legs to enjoy the warmth of his lap before hesitantly moved a gloved hand to stroke the soft fuzz on top of its head.

As he made his way back to the manor, Damian took some time to swing by the orphanage where Colin lived, and the boy-identity of Abuse was happy to find a couple small, chipped dishes, a small can of tuna, and a cardboard box that the two boys had filled with some shredded newspapers for the time being, to serve as a litter box. Neither was able to tell if the kitten was really old enough for the food, or trained for the box, but Robin decided to give them a try.

A short time later and Damian was climbing through the window of his bedroom, clutching the grey kitten to his chest – and getting little hairs all over the red tunic – with one hand. The animal had fallen asleep in his hold, purring at first before falling silent as its sleep deepened. He found himself reluctant to put the kitten down, but finally coaxed the tiny claws from their hooked place in fabric and carefully put the fuzzy ball on top of his blankets so he could change out of his uniform. After doing so, he set up the box and filled one of the bowls with water, then joined his new pet on the bed for some sleep.

...

He was dreaming. He knew he was. Everything was just a little too muted, and proportions were off. But it was a familiar dream... one of his favorites. If it was the one he knew it to be, this was where everyone was accepting of him, and he was able to drop his shields and accept them. It helped that it was a fantasy with his mother at his father's side, no longer manipulative and cold.

The motley crew that was called the Bat Family was present, with a few extras: Oracle was standing - yes, standing... fantasies had no room for tragedy - with Stephanie, chatting happily. Drake and Todd were having a scuffle, laughing as they wrestled each other. Talia was conversing easily with Cassandra, content with Bruce's arm around her waist. Commissioner Gordon stood with Alfred and Leslie, the three watching the "kids" with affection. Even Colin was there, though he wasn't really a part of the Bats. He knew that he was sitting to one side by himself so he could watch, and any minute now, Grayson would-

"Hey, Damian! What are you doing over here by yourself?" the acrobat asked as he slid into a seat next to him.

"Just watching."

"You'll miss out on all the fun if you just sit alone. C'mon, let's go back over to everyone!"

Damian allowed his older brother to take his wrist and drag him to the rest of their family. This was his favorite part of the dream: being close to everyone when they are happy, and being a part of it. But something seemed off about the first Robin. He stopped before they could get to the others and faced Damian, hands resting on his shoulders.

"Dami, take care of our family, ok? And make sure you take care of yourself, too. Bruce needs you just like Batman needs Robin. Even if he has a hard time showing it, it's the truth." Suddenly, he was crouched down and hugging Damian. "I love you, little brother."

...

Damian sat up, confused. That dream was supposed to be completely happy. Why did it seem like Grayson was saying goodbye?

A week later, Damian was sitting in a bedroom at the Penthouse, dressed in a stiff black suit. The main decoration in this room was a large poster done in garish circus colors, and a few small knick knacks littered the bed stand. It was cold and empty, which seemed wrong considering who the room belonged too. USED to belong to.

He had been staying here since Leslie had called the manor after the explosion. The call had been meant for his father, but he overheard the resulting conversation between Bruce and Alfred. It had been strange, hearing that the older brother he had only missed for a few days had truly been in a coma since his "return." But that was ignoring the matter at hand...

"Dick Grayson is dead," he murmured to himself. The sadness he expected was still muted - he was still in some sort of shock, it seems. He knew the man was dead, had just returned from his funeral, in fact, but still couldn't seem to completely accept the fact.

For a moment, he distracted himself from the troubling lack of sorrow he knew he should be feeling by thinking about the funeral itself. One of them, anyway. It had been held in the family plot, of course, right next to where the other members of the Flying Graysons were laid to rest. The casket was empty - Bruce had decided to not leave it to chance for his oldest to end up coming back like Jason Todd had, and Tim had agreed because of the Black Lanterns attack. The real body had been moved to the same location as the false Batman corpse to prevent either from happening.

There had been some members of the hero community in attendance, all dressed in civilian clothes. Most were members of the teams that Dick had lead. Of course, there were civilians that had known Dick, like his partner from Bludhaven. Damian had also noticed Jason standing at the edge of the cemetery, watching the proceedings, too.

The superhero funeral had yet to take place, to keep the attachment of Nightwing and Dick from the public. But that didn't stop a condolences card from already arriving in the mail from Deathstroke, as the mercenary had known the vigilante's secret ID.

A small mewl pulled Damian from his thoughts, and he looked down at the kitten that had made its way into his lap. The boy sighed at the gray fur now littering his suit, but pet the kitten anyway. After a few moments, he stopped and picked the furball up to look at it closely.

"You don't have a name yet. I need to call you something," he told it in a serious tone. The feline only purred in response, staring at him with those too-blue eyes. "... Grayson. I'll call you Grayson," he declared, lowering the kitten back onto his lap to resume petting it.

Days later, after Nightwing - really, Jason masquerading in the old costume he had imitated from Dick's - had been seen "dying" - a theatrical affair aided by other members of the superhero community - that funeral was held. In a moment of what could possibly be brilliance or insanity, Damian made a decision on what to do. He waited until his father had left for the night, and observed Alfred until he had gone to bed, then departed from the manor himself to find the Red Hood.

When he landed on the same rooftop as the deadly vigilante, guns were immediately trained on him before lowering.

"What do you want, Demon," Jason demanded.

"Your help, Todd."

The helmet tilted to the side. "You want my help? For what?"

"I want to steal Nightwing's body." When Jason stayed silent, probably from shock, Damian continued. "I know how to find a Lazarus Pit."

A/N: Wow… Finally finished all three of these… It was pretty daunting, but I wanted to get all three written so they'd all be posted at the same time. Yes, there are similar parts (or flat-out copy/pastes) in these ends, but I figured… If there's similarities, why waste my time to write it all out multiple times when I can alter what was already needed? But I have warned you guys before that I'm lazy. So, thank you, everyone, for reading through to the endings! And for those of you who decided to read all three endings, I offer even MORE thanks! You guys have been lovely, and have encouraged me to write again after several YEARS of writing no literature at all. Well, not like this anyway…

Goodbye for now, and if you decide to follow me into the next fanfiction adventure… I look forward to the journey with you!

Actual Word Count of Chapter: 1463

PS: All responses to reviews after this point will be done by private messages. ;) Thanks again for all your support, faves, watches, etc!