Bruce looked positively menacing as he passed back and forth in front of his sons. The boys themselves were trying not to look guilty, but that was particularly difficult with their hair askew and their food-stained formal wear hanging off them.

They all flinched as their father suddenly stopped and stared them down. Usually, they would take comfort in the fact that this lecture was happening in Bruce's study and not The Cave, but with the hard batglairs they were getting, they definitely had something to worry about.

"Every time I think I can trust you boys to behave for one night…." He stared, then stopped to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What was this fight even about?!" He snapped. "What on earth was so important as to bring all four of you rolling around on the floor, destroying the entire banquet hall, in front of guests?!"

The boys glanced between each other. If they were being honest, they didn't really remember how the fight had started, only that it had ended with them crashing into the desert table.

"You know what? It doesn't even matter." Bruce said when none of the boys dared to answer. "I just hope it was worth it while you're serving your punishments." He moved to the top of the line.

"Dick, it's high time someone updates and reorganizes the files on the Batcomputer. If you put in a few hours every day, it should only take a month. And when you're done, you can reintegrate the system with the security at Wayne Enterprises." Dick opened his mouth to protest but decided against it.

"Jason," Bruce continued, "I think it's high time you refamiliarize yourself with hand-to-hand combat. By this time tomorrow, every gun you have ever owned will be locked away in a secure undisclosed location. And that includes the ones in your secret hiding places you thought I didn't know about."

Damian could help but snicker as his older brother sputtered in anger. Bruce whirled to face his youngest. "I'm glad you think it's funny Damian, because your swords will be there too." The boy immediately straightened up. "But my training-" He started.

"You won't have much time for training with all the playdates I'll be arranging for you and your classmates. You can train your people skills." Damian was fuming as Bruce moved to stand in front of Tim.

The boy kept his head down. He hadn't meant to fight with his brothers. He was the good child. This wasn't him. Still, here he was, awaiting sentencing with the rest.

"Timothy, I'm going to chalk your involvement to lack of sleep impairing your judgment. As such, you are on a caffeine cleanse until further notice. That includes coffee, energy drinks, all of it. Alfred will have it under lock and key here. I have given the school staff strict orders not to let you get your hands on it during the day, and if you try to source it from anywhere else, you will be sorry."

"Bu-but h-h-how am I supposed to work? I-I-I need to stay awake." "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Tim didn't even register Bruce releasing them until he felt a hand guide him from the room. His brothers were staring at him with concern etched across their faces. Even Damian looked as though he felt bad for the boy. Tim took a shaking breath as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

Whatever that fight had been was nowhere near worth it.

Bruce had not been kidding about making Tim go cold turkey. Alfred was firm about the new rule and tried to reason that it would Tim some good. Every teacher in every class checked his bag when he walked into the room, and Tim had the feeling that if they did catch him with something, it would be slapped out of his hands.

Within a week's time, Tim was going through life as a zombie. He was dozing off in class and nodding on patrol. He completely passed out at dinner one night and woke up in his bed the next morning, just as drained. The worst of it was that even with the forced extra sleep, Tim was hardly resting.

With no caffeine to keep him on track, his mind was suddenly plagued with his darkest thoughts and fears. Even when he was awake, he couldn't seem to ward them off to the point where any physical contact, every little sound, made him jump. He was completely on edge with no end in sight. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

III

Tim blinked awake slowly as he sat up from where he'd been sprawled on the floor. He glanced over to the grandfather clock to try and gauge how long he'd been out for, only to find it wasn't there. That wasn't right. The grandfather clock was an unmoving fixture in the Wayne Manor library.

But wait. The clock was not the only thing missing. The lighting in the room was off somehow. And the carpet was a different color. And why was everything in the room so much bigger? It was as if the world had scaled up.

And then he felt it. The presence of another person in close proximity. Tim looked over his shoulder to find a tall, dark figure looming over him. "You have a whole room to yourself, and you choose to sleep on the floor like a homeless bum?" The voice bellowed.

Tim flinched and tried to scramble to his feet, but the man was faster. In an instant, Tim was being dragged up by the collar of his shirt till his feet barely touched the ground. "What's more, you made a mess pulling down books. And for what? There's no way you can read them. Stupid child."

Shaking, Tim dared to glance up at the man's face only to immediately drop his gaze. He never could look Jack Drake in the eye, and with the man gripping his shoulder so tight, this was not the time to start.

"Get up to your room, and don't expect dinner. If you want to act homeless, you'll see how it feels. Maybe then you'll be grateful." Jack threw his son to the ground, and Tim practically crawled to get away from his father's wrath, bearly managing to duck past his mother as she came through the door.

"Jack, do you have to yell at him so loudly?" Janet huffed. "Honestly, you're giving me a headache." "I swear that boy of yours is turning me grey." He muttered. "I blame you and that fourth glass of wine."

"As if you weren't just as culpable." The woman said indignantly. "Honestly, we can't live like this." Janet sighed, leading her husband to an ornate bench and pulling him next to her. "Perhaps it's time you call in that favor at the boarding school in the Himalayas."

"And what school worth the money were take the stupid child? I doubt if he can read at all. He's nothing but trouble, and he's weak on top of it all. They'd throw him out so fast." Jack ranted. His wife rubbed his shoulders tenderly. "We'll come up with something. I won't let him ruin another day of our lives."

Unbeknownst to his disgruntled parents, Tim had heard every word from his hiding spot on the tiny balcony overlooking the room. He curled himself into a ball and squeezed his eyes shut. They hated him. He was worthless and stupid. No one wanted him. He was bad, bad, bad.

iii

When he opened his eyes, the room had shifted. He was still hidden away in his little nook, but the room below was a terrifying sight.

Jack and Janet were tied to chairs in the center of the room. Some of the furniture was smashed to bits, and books were strewn about the floor, but the scariest sight was the man with the tattoos running up his neck pointing his gun between the two grown-ups.

"Please," his mother was begging. "We have the means to give you whatever you want!" The tattooed man set his eyes on Janet and stalk over to her, tracing his gun from her temple and stopping at the top of her cleavage.

Tim looked away. He couldn't watch this. He had to do something. The intruder clearly did know he was in the house. He could get to a phone and call the police.

But did he dare to move? He was safe in his hiding spot. If he ventured through the manor to find a phone, the gunman could find him. The fear of the thought was paralyzing.

The bang of the gunshot, followed by a high-pitched scream, filled the room, and Tim shut his eyes and covered his ears. Another bang, and then all was quiet. Tim didn't need to look down to know what had happened. His mother and father were dead.

III

Tim didn't remember opening his eyes, but he must have to be seeing the faint blue glow in the distance. He moved towards it ever so cautiously. As he got closer, the light began to take shape into a person, and Tim picked up his pace as he recognized his oldest brother.

Just as Tim was about to call out to the older boy, he noticed the look on Dick's face. His face was contorted into such a deep disappointed frown Tim staggered backward mid-step. "You failed them." Dick growled. "You had the chance to save their lives, but you did nothing, you coward."

Dick began stalking closer, and Tim turned to run, only to run into another figure. "Pathetic Replacement! Running away. That's what you do best." Jason sneered down at him. "You had everything but couldn't do what it took to hold onto it. You're a joke!"

Tim was crawling backward now, trying to get away from his glaring brothers, when he felt someone else behind him. Damian smirked down wickedly at him. "This is all the great Timothy Drake is capable of? Supposedly brilliant but couldn't come up with a single thing to do under a little pressure. Even now, you're at my feet where you belong."

His brothers were surrounding him now, yelling at him, telling him how he had every chance to do better and how he had failed at every chance.

Suddenly Bruce was looming over them all, looking at Tim with a mix of fury and disgust. "If you couldn't do what needed to be done to protect your first family. How can you be trusted not to fail us now?"

His family finally closed in on him, and Tim's own screams filled his ears as the darkest consumed him, and he fell into an endless oblivion.

Tim couldn't tell if he was shaking or if someone was jostling him, and he didn't care. He just wanted it to stop. For the degrading voices of his family to fade. For the awful images of his past to disappear.

"Tim? Come on Timmy, open your eyes. It's ok. You're safe. I'm here now." Bruce's gentle voice was soothing enough that Tim could finally will himself to peek his eyes open. Bruce had him wrapped tight in his arms in his typical protective hold that would have kept Tim from wriggling away even if he wanted to.

"Bruce, please, I can't do this." Tim begged, tears welling in his eyes. "The longer I go without coffee, the worse the nightmares get, and I-I can't do this. I need coffee. Please Bruce."

Bruce didn't say anything. He simply held his son tighter. Alfred had warned him of the withdrawal symptoms, but this is something else. He'd only ever seen this kind of fear in Tim's eyes once before. On the night he'd brought his son home for the first time.

"Alright." He breathed. "I think you've suffered enough. We can go upstairs and get you a small cup for now, but you need to promise me something first."

"Anything!" Tim said, both eager and relieved. "We have to talk about these nightmares. Maybe not tonight, but you know full well that coffee won't be enough to drown out whatever you saw. Deal?"

Tim nodded, and Bruce pulled him to his feet. "Come on. You need some real rest." Bruce sighed as he wrapped an arm around his boy and led him up to bed.

A/N Thanks so much to emmalowes1 for suggesting this one. Couldn't have done it without you!

Also gonna start doing a better job of updating more often now that the semester is over😉