A/N: Thanks to Soft-falling-Raindrops for drawing awesome fanart for this fic! (If you want to see it, it's linked on my profile and her profile, and will be linked in the AO3 version of this fic. Sadly, ffn does not allow linking in stories.)
And thanks to everyone else for reading!
And lol, I might have read too much Dracula recently which might have influenced this chapter.
Also, I hope you like terrible poetry!
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Dick sighed as he took out the trash. Taking out the trash at the mansion was a monumental task that made him glad he lifted weights on a regular basis. He knew he couldn't even hope to clean up as well as Alfred did, but at least he could try to make the place less of a disaster zone before the butler returned.
Speaking of disaster zones, Tim and Damian had invited Jason and Cassandra over last night, which had resulted in loud music and shouting until 3 am, and a pile of passed out superheroes currently sleeping in the living room.
"Hey, get up," Dick said as he kicked Tim and Damian's feet. The boys had passed out on the couch amid piles of candy wrappers, empty chip bags, action figures, and game controllers. Cassandra was curled up in an armchair, and Jason was sprawled out on the floor, snoring.
Dick "accidentally" tripped over Jason's legs as he walked over to wake Cassandra up.
"$%^*!" said Jason.
Cassandra glared at Jason. "Jason, stop setting such a bad example for your brothers."
Damian sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Grayson, what is the meaning of this?"
"If Bruce isn't up, why're you getting us up?" Tim asked with a yawn.
"Because the four of you made a giant mess last night, and I think you should clean it up before Bruce wakes up and has a conniption." He frowned at the memory of Bruce's mood last night. "I don't think he's feeling well."
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It was late afternoon when Dick decided to check on Bruce. He hadn't seen the man since last night, and as much as it seemed a good idea to let Bruce sleep off his bad mood, twelve hours was more than enough sleep, and Dick felt a need to check on him to make sure he was okay, and that his arm wasn't still bleeding.
The room was dark and smelled stuffy. There was a Batman-shaped lump in the middle of the bed, and it looked like Bruce hadn't even bothered to change out of his uniform before crashing into bed last night.
Dick frowned and opened the curtains to allow early evening sunlight to stream into the room.
"Mph." The lump on the bed shifted.
"Bruce, is your arm feeling better?" Dick pulled back the covers and almost gasped at how pale Bruce appeared. He jumped back when Bruce snarled and yanked the covers back around his head.
Bruce could often be difficult when he wanted his Batman's sleep, but this was bordering on ridiculous. "Bruce, it's almost time for patrol again. Just let me check your arm to make sure it's not infected."
The only answer was a growling and coughing noise from underneath the covers. Dick reached under the covers again, this time intent on grabbing Bruce's arm so he could have a look at it. Bruce was having none of this, and held the covers clamped tightly down with his bat-gloved fists.
After five minutes of struggle, Dick jumped back and yelped, clutching his own arm. "Ouch, hey, you bit me!" Wounded in more ways than one, Dick left the room to tend to his own cut.
Later that evening, after the sun set, no-one noticed as a black-clad Batman-shaped figure stealthily crept out of the mansion and into the night…
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In Gotham where it's dark and bleak,
And the wind howls through scraggly trees,
Near an old abandoned manor with pointed steeples,
Under labyrinths of twisting caves,
Dwells (so the legends say),
The most fearsome creature to ever walk littered streets.
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They say he came, swift as night,
With reddened eyes and pointed teeth,
Descending from the pitch black skies,
To rip and rend flesh left and right.
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Smoke he exhaled, as from a train,
And tattered wings flapped like a bat,
As he soared over Gotham,
Leaving as silently as he came,
But they knew he'd be back again.
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Oh horrid creature! Cursed blight!
To come garbed in semblance of the Knight,
That so often responded to Gotham's plight.
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But the Dark Knight was silent,
And walked the streets no more;
Leaving in his place, a zombie "batman",
With gnashing teeth and fearsome eyes,
To plague the City at night.