Septem
The Dark Before the Dawn
Bruce didn't like having to patrol while there was still so much going on, but at least he wasn't completely alone. Now that Cassandra was back in town, there was at least one more sentry on duty, not to mention Stephanie and Luke, Harper, and Claire. Duke was still sick, unfortunately, but they had all been filled in on the strange situation that was unfolding, once they had been vetted, of course. So far, it seemed as though Tim, Jason, and Dick were the only ones effected by whatever spell those vampires had cast.
Stephanie, understandably so, hadn't taken the news very well, but thankfully it had been Barbara's job, not Bruce's, so he only got to hear about it after the fact. Right now, he was just hanging up his cape as he returned to the Batcave and checked in on the boys.
Dick hadn't left his apartment in ages, which was concerning for a number of reasons, like, for example, the litany of purchases he seemed to be making with his credit card. They were all from household appliance companies, the kind that ran infomercials on TV, or else the kind that ran scams. Over the mic, he could here him enjoying a pizza he had ordered with an unusual amount of delight and fascination, as though he'd never ordered a pizza before. It might be time to go over there and have a chat.
Jason, meanwhile, he was giving him even more cause for concern. He'd gone to a local bar and there hadn't been much to hear for a while, until Roy Harper showed up. Jason, evidently, had become intoxicated, and Roy was using it to his childish advantage. He took him all over town and he could only imagine the amount of idiotic chicanery they got up to, the both of them becoming progressively more sloshed. It had become rather difficult to listen to, especially after they had started singing. But, being so relaxed, Jason had let slip several bombshells that Roy undoubtedly wrote off as utter nonsense. Whenever he mentioned Bruce, he called him "Father," although he still had plenty of insults to throw his way, so it wasn't completely off. Then, at one point, he tried to fly and it sounded like he'd hurt himself in the process. Both boys laughed it off though. More and more his suspicions about Wayne Castle seemed to be compounded.
Finally, there was Tim, who still hadn't left the manor, despite having his own place down by the marina. It was almost as if he didn't know that he wasn't a permanent resident here. Most of his time was spent on his computer, doing absolutely nothing useful, and then he found him opening his own YouTube creator account, which did nothing to put him at ease. Whatever he posted, he might need to intercept and look over before it went public, or else, shut down the account altogether.
All of this motivated him, more than ever, to get back to the vampire dimension. He had to fix everything before something worse happened and bring his boys back to their right state of minds.
He stayed up all night researching the teleportation device, analysing it, running tests on it, pausing to eat a little something Alfred had made, and then resuming his research. He lost track of time, and before he knew it, it was morning, but that didn't bother him much. He was finally making progress! He'd found a way to make it repeat its last primary function, aka, opening the portal, and now he was about to see if he'd wired the thing correctly.
With a push of a button, tendrils of electricity shot out around him and then—
VWOOSH!
There was the portal, silver-white and swirling. Just to be sure he got this right, he stepped through and landed in a dark world, very similar to how he'd traveled on that first, eventful night. There was Wayne Castle, the windows brightly lit and carriages rolling down the pathways. There must be another event going on. Oh well, he could navigate that easily. The point was, he had succeeded! After all those hours of work, he had succeeded. Now he just needed a change of clothes and his investigation could begin.
He opened up the portal again and jumped back into the Batcave where he found a very surprised Damian standing there.
"Damian," he said as he closed the portal. "Everything go well with the Titans?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," he sniffed, looking like his usual, angry self. "Where were you just now?"
"The vampire dimension. I'm going to get to the bottom of this."
Now, of course, when Damien heard this, he became panicked. Bruce was on the verge of discovering their secret! He had to do something about this at once! He was the only one that could, after all. The only member of the brothers who had at least some manner of trust with the billionaire.
"I'm coming with you," he said quite forcefully.
"Damian—" Bruce began, only for him to quickly interrupt him.
"I would like to know what's happened to my brothers."
Bruce turned and looked at him, inwardly debating with himself. Damien made sure to keep his posture tall and his expression resolute. Then, Bruce checked the time.
"Fine. I'll have Alfred send word to the school that you'll be absent today. Go get changed."
"Changed into what?" He asked, following him up and out of the Batcave.
"Something presentable. We're going to a party."
So… Friday.
The brothers had been done up in their usual best—pleasant attitudes notwithstanding—and impatiently dreaded the morning that lay ahead of them. They were each painfully aware of the amount of time slipping through their slender fingers, for with every passing minute, Saturday drew nearer, and with it, their fears of being trapped here in this cursed world for all time. But what could they do? Their memory was their only weapon, and as of right now, it was currently betraying them.
They were ushered to the ballroom at about nine in the morning, where all of the grand chandeliers had been gloriously lit and swooping swaths of fabric and bunting had been splayed about the room in a beautiful display, accompanied by a garden's worth of bouquets in red and white. At the center of all of these decorations, atop one of the many gorgeously laid tables, there sat an ice sculpture, carved in the likeness of Richard and his beloved Princess Koriand'r. They could only guess now as to the nature of this particular event.
Then, Lord Wayne appeared.
He was done up in his finest black cape and the boys all stood still as he spoke to them, head bowed respectfully.
He took a long breath. "I shouldn't need to remind you all what the consequences of misbehaving are, and yet, the last few days have me convinced otherwise. So allow me to reiterate: if you make a scene, if you offend another member of the nobility, or worse, the royalty, I will skin you alive. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father," they all droned, keeping their true thoughts to themselves.
"I will be watching."
With that, he went to go stand by his wife's side in the foyer, where they would welcome in their guests as the began to arrive. The boys had never felt so grateful to be alone, for their valets had finally gone away. Having babysitters at a public gala would undoubtedly humiliate their family more than a cross word from Jason, or a slip up in formalities from Tim, so it was no wonder that they had been excused.
However, they would not be alone long.
The Tamaranean Royal Family were the first to arrive at Wayne Castle, and after greeting the host and hostess, they entered the ballroom where Richard went to meet his fiancé. Naturally, anything beyond what was customary would have been seen as inappropriate in the presence of the King and Queen, but they did share many hidden smiles.
Richard still remembered their stroll through the garden, and their kiss in the moonlight, and he blushed when he recalled it. He truly was the luckiest lord in Gotham.
Minute after minute, more and more guests arrived, slowly but surely filling up the ballroom with idle chatter and the clink of glasses and silver.
Richard found himself torn between trying to get a word in with his brothers while and staying by his fiancé's side. After all, this party had been thrown in their honour. They even began the night by calling everyone's attention and lifting a toast to commemorate their engagement! The whole ballroom cheered for the happy couple, making Richard wonder what the wedding would be like, come spring.
Timothy, meanwhile, had caught sight of Miss Brown and went to offer her a friendly 'hello.' She seemed still in low spirits, but obliged her new friend a conversation. He told her of how close they were to… well, he dared not speak plainly, lest there be ears in the crowd, but she understood what he meant. She was glad they were making progress, and insisted that if ever there was any way she could help them, to please let her know.
Jason at once noticed when Lady Mighdall had entered the room, though he did not go to meet her.
"What's the matter with you?" Damian asked, scrutinising him.
"It's nothing," he lied, glancing back at her more than a few times. Damian followed his gaze, and all at once he understood.
A cheeky grin slithered onto his face. "You're terribly sentimental, brother."
"Oh, leave me be," Jason retorted, turning away.
Young love, Damian thought. How dreadfully sappy and utterly ridiculous. He would never.
He went to turn away, perhaps see what the cooks had prepared in terms of food, when who should he nearly bump into but Her Royal Highness, Princess Leyla'a.
"Princess!" He squeaked, all of a sudden a million intense feelings overtaking him. She was looking stunning tonight, in a deep, aquamarine gown, inlaid with pearls and sapphires. Her hair had been done up in a loose bun, framing her freckled face, and her turquoise eyes were set on him.
"Lord Damien," she said tightly. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you again."
He swallowed with severe difficulty. Why was it so impossible for him to speak? Curse whatever wretched spell she had cast on him!
She seemed to take his silence as a sort of remorsefulness, and her own expression fell.
"I would like to… apologise," she sighed. "My behaviour last night was hardly proper for a young princess such as myself. I would… be honoured if you would forgive me."
Damian felt his mouth open, and yet he still could not manage to make his throat work properly. Something about the way she looked just then, recoiling shyly and awaiting his response, was making the warmth in his face and body return.
"Well—no—" he suddenly said, alarming himself. What was he about to say? "It is I who should be apologising. I was the one who spoke out of turn first. I should be the one asking… for your forgiveness."
"Seeing as how I was the one to apologise first, it would only be proper for you to forgive me first," she replied, speaking just about as hastily as he was.
"And I respectfully disagree," he responded, growing somewhat peeved. "You are a princess, and I but a lord. My apology to you ought to come first."
"And as a princess, I insist that I apologise first," she said stubbornly.
"You do know that 'ladies first' need not apply to every situation, yes?" he countered as her nose became wrinkled with frustration.
"And do you know that it is universally considered rude to deny a princess her request?"
"The only reason I am ignoring your request is so that I may be the gentleman of the situation!"
"And I the gentlewoman! I insist that you accept my apology first!"
"And I insist you accept mine!"
The two stood at odds, staring the other down, Damian's heart racing all the while. They were standing awfully close.
Just then, the first dance was announced, and as usual, Damian would likely be expected to participate. At least he had a good enough excuse to leave her annoying presence for a while.
"Well, it seems as though our apologies will have to wait. If you'll excuse me, princess," he said through gritted teeth as he bowed low. "I must find Princess Raven for the first dance."
"Hmph! Well there's a surprise, to be sure," she suddenly said in mock amusement. "To think that one does not even know where his own betrothed is tonight."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" said Damian, coming closer again.
"It means that Princess Raven is traveling home to visit relatives, which you would know if you had spent even an ounce of time with her last night."
Damian's face became furrowed with anger. So then who was he meant to dance with? Would his father excuse him? Surely this was a good enough reason to.
Just then, Princess Leyla'a rolled her eyes and reached for his hand.
"Very well, your Lordship, seeing as how you are unable to tell the dance floor from your elbow, allow me to assist you."
"And just what do you think you're doing?" He asked as she led him out onto the floor with all the other couples.
"Just what I said. Helping you find the dance floor and a partner. Clearly, you would be helpless otherwise." She had her nose stuck up into the air as she spoke, and Damian noticed his brothers on the floor, watching him curiously. Jason and Richard with their beloveds, and Timothy with Princess Donna.
Damian did his best to tune them all out. Including Princess Leyla'a. It didn't matter at all that his hand was gripping her back, or that her arm was resting on his shoulder. IT DIDN'T BOTHER HIM ONE TINY BIT!
The music started, and at once the floor was an ocean of swishing skirts. "Ocean" was indeed the perfect word to describe it, as Leyla'a's dress certainly seemed to move like tropical waves, and was that a faint hint of sea salt in the air?
He twirled her around, her skirt rising somewhat, and he felt himself breathing hard, so he looked away firmly. She did the same.
"Consider this my apology," she said quietly as she struck a pose.
"No, consider this my apology," he fired back, dipping her quickly. OooOoohHhhh… his insides were feeling all sorts of ways just then, holding her like that. He lifted her up at once and resumed the dance.
"You're technique needs work," she grumbled. "Perhaps I could send my tutor over to teach you how to really dance?"
"I know how to dance just as well as you."
"Oh really?" She suddenly led herself into a graceful turn, spinning into him at the end, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "I'd like to see you try to prove that."
With a low growl, he picked her up by the waist and spun her around into the next stance, moving his feet as nimbly as he could, appearing just as regal and elegant as any other professional dancer. "How was that?"
"Sloppy. You rushed into it and you lack confidence," she whispered back.
That was it!
She wanted confidence!? He would give her confidence!
They were dancing so fast now that at times they almost got ahead of everyone else, striking each pose and performing each move with a fiery passion unmatched by any other couple. Every dip, every turn, every glide across the floor, Damian did with a truck-load of determination behind it, nailing every single step perfectly.
With a bright, loud finish, the band crescendoed into the climax of their piece and the dance was concluded. Certainly, there was no one else in the whole room drawing more attention to themselves than the young Lord Damien and Princess Leyla'a. They were staring at each other now, breathing heavily as the dance floor slowly emptied itself. That dance had felt… exhilarating. Certainly, nothing like anything he had ever experienced with Princess Raven. Not even close…
At the same time, they both realised how much staring they were doing at one another and pulled away quickly.
"Consider yourself forgiven," Damian stuttered.
"And you as well," she answered, not meeting his gaze.
"Goodnight."
"Indeed."
They both stiffly walked off the floor, making for their nearest family members. Hers happened to be the King and Queen of Atlantis, plus her two big brothers.
Jason, Timothy, and Richard were waiting for Damian on the edge of the dance floor, and they would not stop staring at him.
"What are you looking at?" He snapped, their faces looking awfully amused. Far too amused, actually.
"Ooh, someone's got a girlfriend," Jason sang quietly.
Then, as blood rushed profusely to his face, Damian did something he had never done before.
"HA HA HA!" He laughed. He laughed with such nervous breaths and intensity that it startled his brothers. He even startled himself. "Girlfriend!? That's ridicu—she's not—leave me alone!" And he pushed passed them, angrily making for the powder room. Then he turned back and yelled, "I'm perfectly fine!" Then stomped off again.
Richard, Jason, and Timothy all watched him go, eyes wide as saucers. Woah. What was that all about?
"Oh, Richard, darling!" Koriand'r suddenly called, coming over and reaching for his arm. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself.
"Princess," Richard replied, smiling fondly at her. He also seemed to be enjoying himself. Though at the back of his mind, another certain someone lingered whom he wished could be in attendance tonight. But Koriand'r was here, and she did look awfully pretty today.
"Come, let us dance again!" She pleaded, her ringlets bouncing up and down.
As she began to pull him back onto the floor, though, Jason grabbed his other arm. "Hey, wait," he whispered. "What about you-know-what? You think of anything yet?"
"I'll think of it later," Richard replied, already starting to follow Koriand'r onto the floor. "Tata!"
Jason stood, taken aback. What had gotten into him? Was everybody going off the deep end? Wasn't Richard the one saying just a few nights ago that they needed to keep their memories alive and fight to figure out how to get home as soon as possible? Because right now it looked like he was all too happy to dance the day away with Kori and forget all about that "depressing nonsense." It probably also helped that his beloved fiancé knew nothing of what her true Richard had done. The same could not be said for Artemis, or Stephanie.
"I think we're loosing him," said Timothy, half joking, half serious. "This isn't good."
"Really? I couldn't tell," Jason snarked.
"What should we do?"
Jason was about to say something when he noticed his father's face in the crowd, tall and pale, walking away from everyone.
"Have you remembered anything at all?" He pressed, leaning closer.
"Just 'visages' and 'arise' I think, but I can't be certain," Timothy replied.
"Visages… visages…" Jason muttered. It was becoming familiar to him now, but no matter how hard he tried, it was still just out of reach. "…visages… of strangers?" Was that right? Come on, brain, think! This was too important to just leave be, simmering at the back of his mind.
Then… something remarkable happened.
Through the periodic gaps in the dancers on the floor, Jason thought that he could see something. Like the Red Sea, they parted, allowing him a clear picture of Lord Wayne standing across the room, talking with someone; someone who looked awfully familiar, and time slowed down. He was the same height as Lord Wayne, the same build as Lord Wayne, with the same eyebrows and the same nose and the jawline. He had blue eyes instead of yellow, his skin wasn't quite as pale, and he did not possess any fangs. Could it be…?
Tim saw him too, standing like a living memory straight out of their pasts, and all at once, a million things came back to them. That was… Bruce Wayne, the man who had adopted them, and taken them into his home, Wayne Manor. He was here, standing just across the ballroom! Why, if they could just talk to him, then surely all would be set right! Perhaps they wouldn't need to remember the spell after all! They were saved! He had come for them! All they needed to do was—
"FATHER!"
Damian's voice crashed around the ballroom and every head turned sharply around to see Lord Damien Wayne running at full speed toward the entrance to the room where the two Bruces were talking. Jason and Tim wanted to join him, but they knew that Damian's foolish outburst had already sentenced him to a tremendous amount of punishment. Jason started moving discreetly through the crowd, Tim at his heels, if for no other reason than to try and get to Damian before more damage could be done, but also in the hopes that they might talk to Bruce. This may be their only chance.
Meanwhile, Damian had charged ahead without thinking. He had been frustratedly walking away, looking for some place to be miserable and alone and fester about Leyla'a and his stupid brothers, when he'd caught a glimpse of him through the dresses and the coat tails. At first, he couldn't believe his own eyes—surely they were playing tricks on him—but in his heart, he knew it to be true. That man over there was his one and only biological father, Bruce Wayne! He could feel it somewhere deep down inside, perhaps on an instinctual level.
He had shouted without meaning to—had run before he had a chance to process this information properly—all he knew was that he wanted out of this dreadful place, and Bruce was a sure fire ticket. And… perhaps… he'd also missed his real father… missed his lectures and watching movies together and going out on patrol together…
He was getting close now, Bruce looking at him with no small amount of surprise as he charged at him, desperately wishing to hold on to him, but then—
"Damien!" Lord Wayne barked at him, grabbing his arm. "Behave yourself!" He was jerked back as though he were a paper doll and held there against his will, Bruce just a few feet away from him. He wanted to say something—"Father, it's me! Your son! Please! Get me out of this place!"—but the Marquis was talking currently, and he knew better than to interrupt him.
"I'm sorry to hear about your plight. Perhaps we should discuss this further in one of my sitting rooms?"
Damian was breathing hard, looking from the Marquis to his father. There wouldn't be a better time than now to say something, surely, and he might have been about to cry out again, when… his blood ran cold.
From around Bruce's legs, a figure appeared, small and shrewd. It was… Damian's body… his human body… staring at him with hidden glee. There was only one person in the whole multiverse who could possibly be inside that body, and he was here with Bruce, acting as though they were truly father and son. Would Bruce even believe him if he tried to tell him what was really going on? Or was it too late? Had Damian… been replaced?
"I will meet you there," said the Marquis as Bruce and Other Damien walked off together. He watched them go, all of a sudden feeling this tremendous ache in his chest.
No… Father…
The Marquis rounded on Damian and dragged him into a side room. It was dark in here, and before the door had even fully shut, Damian found the side of his face stinging from a powerful strike against the head.
"You arrogant little disgrace!" He snarled. "What's gotten in your head that you think you can make a scene like that?!" He struck him again, leaving one of his ears ringing. "You will be confined to your room for the rest of the month, or until you learn some proper manners!"
Still dragging him by the arm, the Marquis brought him back out of the side room and tossed him toward a pair of servants, telling them to escort him away. He would be leaving the party early.
Tim and Jason watched all of this unfold from a distance, horrified.
Richard was still dancing with Koriand'r, so it was up to them to do something about all this. Who knew how long Bruce would be this close!
"Tim!" Stephanie Brown called to him as she made her way through the crowd. "Tim, was that—?"
"It was," he answered. "We need to get to him, quickly! He's the only one who can sort all of this out!"
"If only we knew where they went off to," Jason lamented, turning around and scanning over the ballroom, but not seeing a trace of them or the Marquis. Drat! Why hadn't they been paying closer attention? They were much more observant back home!
"There's a siting room near the end of a long hallway, just there," said Miss Brown. "Lord Wayne often goes there when he needs to speak to someone important in private."
"Brilliant," said Tim. "But we can't just barge in, he'll gut us for sure!"
"I'll create a distraction," said Jason quickly. "I'll make a mess in the kitchen, the servants will come running, fetch dear old dad, and then you run in and talk to Bruce."
"Sounds like a plan. Good luck," said Tim, and they parted ways.
However, as he started moving, he quickly realised he had no idea where it was he was moving to. "Um.. Miss Brown? I don't suppose…?" He chuckled nervously.
"Come. This way," she said, leading him toward an empty hallway and closing the doors behind them. "We mustn't go down the hall that leads to the sitting room, he'll see us when he comes to fetch Jason. The window will be an easier route. But we must remain in the building's shadow, or else the light will kill us. Luckily, it seems fate is on our side. The clouds will help keep us marginally safe."
It was raining now as Stephanie pulled back the curtains and unlatched the tall glass panel in the wall. She transformed into her bat form and waited for Tim to follow her out. As he usually seemed to, Tim had some trouble transforming—jumping once with nothing happening—but this was an emergency! He needed to get to Bruce now! Concentrating with all his might, he forced his bat form to materialise, and then both he and Stephanie were flying through the rain around the outside of Wayne Castle, trying their best not to get burned, looking for the window of the sitting room where Bruce would be.
Empty room… empty room… empty room… Aha!
There!
They flew to the window sill and poked their furry little heads up over its edge, peering inside. Bruce was standing there with Damien right in the center, talking to the Marquis, dressed in proper formal attire. Tim adjusted his large bat ears so that he could hear them better, while also trying not to think about how warm he was feeling, like he'd stepped inside of a sauna, the light of day having even a passive effect on him.
"I'd hate to trouble you," Bruce was saying.
"It is quite the odd request," the Marquis replied. "What is it you suspect, precisely?"
"Well, you see…"
Just then, a butler came in and urgently whispered something in Lord Wayne's ear that made his eyes snap to attention.
"If you'll excuse me," he said suddenly, turning around and walking out. Tim waited anxiously for him to leave, the door clicking shut behind him, and then he threw open the window, landing inside in human form with more than a little clumsiness.
"Bruce!" He cried, suddenly feeling elated beyond belief. Bruce's eyebrows shot up, instinctively taking up a defensive position. "I've never been happier to—"
"Stay back!" Damien ordered, pulling out a short sword from some hidden sheath and pointing it at him. "Vampire."
Tim glared at him, flames rising inside of his chest. For this was Lord Damien Wayne, pretending to be the Damian he knew. "You… you're the reason we're in this mess!"
"Damian, stand down," Bruce ordered, but he wouldn't listen.
"It's a trick!" He announced. "Don't you see?! We can't trust him!"
"A trick!?" Tim repeated in disbelief. "You've got some nerve!" He stalked closer to him and Damien raised his sword higher.
"I said get back!"
"Damian!" Bruce yelled.
And then… a strange sensation came over Tim. The closer he got to them, the more powerful it became. He could smell them—smell their flesh and their blood. They were human he realised. Human and mortal and… delicious. Nothing like the horses and cattle and other measly animals of this world. "You're going to regret what you did!" When he got close enough, ripping the sword out of Damien's hands with his super strength, he found himself tackling the lying little menace and pinning him to the floor, a primeval, animalistic desire to feed overriding all of his senses. He let out a bloodcurdling snarl, his fangs poised and ready to sink into his skin, heart pounding eagerly, when a very large something rammed into him, pushing him by his neck into the wall.
"Don't touch my son!" Bruce yelled angrily at him.
This was precisely where Tim didn't want to be. He was missing his chance to fix everything. Bruce thought he was Lord Timothy Wayne.
"Nonono—Bruce—you don't understand—I didn't mean to—I'm sorry!" He frantically tried to say, all the while fighting against the urge to bite his arm. Bruce squeezed his throat a little tighter. "Please!" He choked. "You have to believe me! I'm—"
"Timothy!"
The Marquis had just re-entered the room, and his yellow eyes were locked onto his misbehaving son. No! Jason's distraction was supposed to keep him occupied for longer than that! Why was he here?! Bruce immediately let go of him and Lord Wayne came over in the blink of a supernatural eye, fanged teeth set on edge.
This was his last chance.
"Bruce, it's me!" Tim yelled as he was grabbed by the arms and dragged away, reaching desperately for his adoptive father. "I'M TIM! PLEASE!" He fought and clawed against Lord Wayne's grasp, trying with all his might to break free, knowing that a fate worse than death awaited him just outside this room. The Marquis' grip was as cold as iron, angrily trying to shut him up and get him out of sight. Tim nearly broke away and ran back to Bruce, but the Marquis grabbed him by the torso, pulling him suddenly further along to his doom. "HELP ME!"
The doors slammed shut, leaving Bruce and Damien alone with the crackling fire and the ticking wall clock. Bruce was still staring at the door, speechless.
"Well, glad that's over," said Damien, trying to shrug off the incident. "Those vampires are crazy—"
Bruce suddenly had him by his collar and his eyes narrowed until they were dangerously thin. "What is going on?"
Outside in the hall, Lord Wayne threw Tim forward and he nearly fell to his knees. His heart was pounding in his ears as the man's imposing, shadowy frame slowly stalked up to him, an ocean of fury hiding within that glaring face of his. Tim shrunk back, mortally terrified of whatever was about to happen to him.
"Please, don't hurt me!" He begged, already reaching for his head.
The Marquis stopped. "Hurt you?" He repeated, and Tim looked up at him, shaking. "Hurt you?" Tim swallowed. He truly was like a demon, heart as black as coal and face as pale as a corpse. Those yellow eyes were swirling with magic, poised to be unleashed upon him. "Rebellious, ungrateful little children deserve to be punished. And this time…" Tim shrunk further back as his shadow came over him. "…your fate will be far worse than mere pain!"
Whatever torture he had endured up until now… whatever pain Lord Wayne had inflicted upon him… Tim knew now that he had been holding back. Every. Single. Cell in his body felt like it was suddenly superheated to a million degrees, and the epicentre of the agony was in his brain. Like a lightbulb being flooded with a megawatt of electricity, his skull seemed to rattle until—
POP.
The light went out.
Blood poured down from his nose as his body fell backward, collapsing onto the floor with a loud THUD. His heart had stopped beating, his lungs had stopped breathing, and his eyes remained open and unblinking.
Lord Wayne called for his servants to take him to his coffin, while he returned to his "guest."
When he opened the door to the sitting room, Mister Wayne was standing there, grabbing his son by the shirt collar. They really were vulgar, every last one of them.
"I'm afraid you're presence is no longer welcome here, Mister Wayne," he said shortly. Every time he came around, his sons' behaviour got worse and worse. Did they think he was a better father? Did they want to run off and be with him instead? Was that it!? Well, no such luck! "If you would, please, leave."
Bruce narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm afraid I can't do that."
"That wasn't a suggestion," the Marquis glowered. With a snap of his fingers, more servants appeared, and with their super strength, they easily subdued the two humans and took them, kicking and struggling, all the way to the front door where they were unceremoniously thrown out into the rain.
"No!" Bruce yelled, running back up the steps, but the doors were quickly closed, shutting him out. He hadn't gotten Damian to say anything back in the sitting room—though he had been close—and he was more convinced than ever that his boys—for whatever reason—were trapped inside this castle. And… that included Damian. He could still hear his voice, calling for him from across the ballroom. Why hadn't he been using his head more! He hadn't been calling for the Marquis, he had been calling for him! And then there was Tim, who had looked so frightened as he desperately fought against his captor's grip. Very seldom did any of his boys show that kind of fear.
"Who are you!?" He yelled, taking the boy behind him by the collar again. "Tell me the truth! NOW!"
Damien's face scrunched up into a frown, but he still refused to say anything besides, "Do your worst."
Bruce was on the verge of doing something very not nice when—
"I can tell you what happened," came a familiar, feminine voice. A head of blonde hair appeared next to them, hiding under a thick coat to protect her from the dim light shining through the grey clouds. She shot a withering glare in Damien's direction. "That… is Lord Damien Wayne, hiding in your son's body."
"Traitor!" Damien choked.
"Where are your other sons?" Stephanie went on stoically.
Bruce's eyes widened.
"You must go and find them, quickly," she urged.
"I can't just leave," said Bruce, looking back to the castle, realising now that his boys were facing a vampiric nightmare in there, all alone.
"You must make sure that their bodies are ready for their arrival. They will be coming soon… if all goes according to plan. Please, there is little time!"
Bruce looked back to Damian—Lord Damien—and set his jaw. Alright then.
"Thank you, Miss Brown. If you see my sons, tell them… tell them I'm waiting for them."
She nodded and he pulled out the dimensional device, wrapped in a waterproof covering. He was going home and dragging the boys back to the cave if he needed to.
Richard was looking around the ballroom, wondering where his brothers had gotten off to. When Damian had shouted for all the castle to hear, he, like many others, had seen the Marquis standing next to Mister Bruce Wayne, but none of them had completely stopped in their tracks like he had. Bruce… his Bruce… his… dad…
What was he doing dancing with Princess Koriand'r? Had he truly forgotten so easily who he really was and where he truly belonged? To avoid scandal, he was forced to keep dancing until the song was over, but his thoughts were now firmly on his family, as though he was finally awake.
But by the time the dance was over, he was having a hard time finding anyone.
"Richard, my friend!" Said Mister West coming over to him and leading him toward his group of socialite comrades. "Allow me to extend my sincerest congratulations to you and Princess Koriand'r! You've done quite well for yourself!"
"That's great, thank you," he said, eyes still wading through the sea of people.
"What's on your mind? Who are you looking for?" Wally asked, trying to follow his gaze.
"Did you see where my brothers went?"
"I thought I caught a glimpse of Damien leaving—is everything alright?" Wally was looking worried now.
"I just need to speak with them—please excuse me for a moment," and just like that, he took off, leaving his fiancé and best friend behind. No, not his fiancé and best friend. Lord Richard's fiancé and best friend. Enough playing around. Even if he couldn't remember his real name, he knew that he didn't belong here.
Now, if Damian had already left, that might mean that Lord Wayne sent him up to his room. So, up the stairs he went, stopping just before he went barrelling down the hallway. The valets were still standing guard by the bedroom doors, and they might not let him in. They certainly would report Richard coming to meet with Damian to Lord Wayne. So, he transformed and flew into the service corridors, crawling along the familiar path until—hang on… this was where the entrance to his room ought to be… but now it was just a dead end. Had… had it been sealed off? No matter. His vampire strength would make short work of it.
Unfortunately, when he pressed his little bat body against the smooth surface of the dead end, it didn't budge. Instead, a searing pain shot through him. It had been sealed with silver. Genuine silver. To a vampire, as with faeries and iron, it burned to the touch.
Very well. There were other ways to get into the bedrooms. The windows, for example, could not have been sealed with silver.
Away he flew, out through the nearest exit, avoiding the direct light of day as much as he could, hiding in the shadows of the overhanging roofs and decor of the castle. The rained had let up some, and he came quickly to Damian's bedroom window. He saw him at once, laying on his bed dejectedly, his eyes just the slightest bit red. There was no time to waste. Richard went to unlatch the window, but discovered that it was locked. So he tapped on the glass.
At first, Damian was confused, but when he saw the form of his bat brother in the window, he quickly came over and tried to open it from his end, with very little success. Apparently, this was no standard lock. It wasn't meant to keep intruders out, it was meant to keep little boys inside.
What could they do? Breaking anything would certainly alert the servants, and then eventually Lord and Lady Wayne. OH! Lady Wayne! Where was she? Was she looking for them since they had all disappeared? He didn't like how uncertain everything felt right now. All the more reason to act quickly.
He heard something in the next room over and motioned for Damian to wait for him. When he appeared in the window of Tim's room, he saw Lady Wayne carrying Tim with her telekinesis to his bed, still dressed in his formal attire, but looking weak and shaken. Not to mention, a portion of his bangs now had a very familiar streak of white in it. Talia watched him disdainfully and then left him alone, someone else waiting for her in the hallway.
Richard flew to Jason's window and saw a similarly exhausted-looking Jason being floated over to his bed. The white streak in his hair could hardly just be referred to as a streak now. Most of his bangs were bleached, making Richard suddenly realise how many times Jason had really been resuscitated in this world. Talia left him there abruptly, and she didn't appear in any of the other rooms. It was reasonable to assume that she had gone back down to the party.
Now was his chance… but how was he going to get inside? At least without alerting anyone?
There might not be anything for it. They needed to get to Bruce, and their deadline was tomorrow, anyway.
So, knowing full well what the consequences might be, Richard got a head start and flew at the window, shattering one of the thin glass panels.
"Richard?" Jason asked in a panic from his bed when he detransformed.
"Come on, we're getting out of here!" He said, grabbing his arm.
All of a sudden, the door flew open, and an alarmed valet stood there, watching them.
"MOVE, JASON!"
He made to grab the medallion still sitting on his nightstand, and then they were transforming and flying out the window together, the valet yelling, "They're escaping! My Lady, they're escaping!" Behind them.
Richard flew into Tim's room, and Jason to Damian's, using as much of their vampire speed as they could. Tim and Jason were wobbling an awful lot as they flew, but at least now they were all outside, Lady Wayne watching them from Timothy's bedroom window, utterly shocked. They needed to get away, quickly! Before she transformed and went after them!
Richard led the way, carrying Damian's spider self as they dove down to the first floor and burst in through another window. They could run faster than they could fly (or crawl, in Damian's case) so they detransformed and ran for all their lives were worth.
"Boys!" Stephanie suddenly called to them, running in from the foyer, soaking wet.
"Stephanie!" Tim called back frantically.
"Your father has gone already! Hurry! You must use the medallion and get away while you still can!"
"Gone?" Richard repeated, his spirits falling.
"Hurry, hurry!" Stephanie urged, as angry footsteps were heard running down the nearby stairs. "Now! He's waiting for you!"
"But we don't know the spell!" Damian cried.
"No time for that!" Richard declared, already running toward the lower levels. "Do we have the medallion?"
"Here," Jason said, holding it up for them all to see.
"Then we need to get to the secret room—it's the only place they won't be able to find us!"
Stephanie was the one who stayed behind and stood her ground as Lady Wayne marched up to her, hoping that they would be able to make it in time.
The boys, meanwhile, were running so fast that they nearly tripped going around some of these turns. One in particular caught them off guard. It was a T section, with the boys rushing to go down the main hallway, and Lord Wayne standing, shocked, at the end of the small hall. Surely, anyone would be surprised to see two of their own sons, whom they had recently murdered, alive and running through the house, trying to get away from them.
"STOP AT ONCE!" He yelled, and right as they were making the turn, the person in the back of the group—Richard—suddenly gasped and fell to the floor, twitching and grasping at the carpet.
"GO!" He cried out to his brothers. "GO—WITHOUT ME!"
Tim almost made to go back, but Jason dragged him along by force, knowing that if they stopped for even a second, the Marquis would be in range to paralyse them all with his power. And so, quite unwillingly, they were forced to leave Richard behind in the clutches of vampire Bruce Wayne.
Now, they were finally at the stairwell that led into the depths of the castle, and they transformed, allowing their wings to glide down, down, down into the cold darkness. Well, all except one.
"BOYS!" Lady Wayne shrieked, but not the Lady Wayne they had all grown accustomed to. When she appeared behind them, she was not in the form of a woman, but a human-sized tarantula spider, running at them with pincers clicking. Tim faltered, terrified. His bat form failed him, and he detransformed before reaching the first step of the stairwell.
"NO—"
That was all it took for Talia to grab him with her telekinesis and put him to sleep. Jason and Damian didn't even have time to watch it happen. One second, Tim was with them, the next, he was lost.
Now weaving through the underbelly of the castle in human form, Jason and Damian counted the seconds until they would be able to reach their one safe space, running so fast that they kept having to push themselves against the walls in order to make each hairpin turn. Until, that is, their mad dash was interrupted by one Alfred Pennyworth, appearing out of the shadows like a jack-in-the-box and making to grab hold of them. Damian was too slow.
"AGH!" He cried out, feeling like Alfred was going to squeeze his hand off. Jason recoiled just in time and didn't let the tutor get any closer, lest he risk getting caught too, and he knew from personal experience that once Alfred had you, there was no escape. "FLY, JASON!" Damian yelled.
Still clutching the medallion, Jason transformed and flew over Alfred's head, narrowly missing a quick jab from him.
"Lord Jason, get back here this instant!" He yelled.
Back in human form, Jason was panting and sweating, and he threw off his coat, letting it land heavily on Alfred to buy him just a little more time. If only he would be able to escape, then so be it. He would come back for them. He promised he would!
He could hear their footsteps, echoing behind him in the cobblestone hallways. He needed to go faster! If he didn't make it, they might end up stuck here forever! Faster, faster!
Finally, there it was, the old sconce! He pulled on it, accidentally ripping it from the wall, and he slipped inside before the door had even opened all the way, forcing it shut behind him. He'd made it! But he wasn't in the clear yet. Bruce and Talia were outside, and they were yelling his name.
"JASON, OPEN THIS DOOR AT ONCE!"
He held tight to the medallion as he backed up into a corner of the pitch black room. Come on! What was the spell?! PLEASE, LET HIM REMEMBER!
He closed his eyes so tight he was eyeing stars.
Then, all of a sudden—
"Across the earth were voices cry!" He began to recite, but as soon as he spoke, the door rattled with a loud CRASH! They were trying to break it down! Quickly, now! Recite, double time! "ACROSS THE EARTH WERE VOICES CRY—WHERE VISAGES OF STRANGERS LIE—TO FLESH AND SOUL AND BONE ARISE!" A circle of magical light ignited at his feet, moving just as fast as he was speaking.
CRASH! Went the door again. One more and they'd be inside.
"MAKE HASTE AND BIND MY SOUL TO THEE—HE WHO'S BODY I DECREE—FOREVERMORE BELONGS TO ME!" He thought of Other Jason as he spoke (well, Other Jason in his body) and right then, as the magical circle exploded into tiny particles, and Jason closed his eyes, hoping to wake up back home, away from this nightmare, the door came CRASHING in, revealing a very unhappy Lord and Lady Wayne.
Jason dropped the medallion and pushed himself further into the corner.
No…
Why was he still here? Had the spell not worked?
The Marquis was coming over now, and Jason felt the childish urge to curl up into a little ball and hide. It was as though he'd stepped back in time—back to when he was small and helpless and at the mercy of adults much bigger and stronger than him. It was a terrifying experience that he hoped he would never be forced to face again, and yet here he was, cowering beneath his father's shadow.
He tried to fight back, and he grabbed the only nearest object with any amount of weight and size—one of the boxes filled with keepsakes—but upon throwing the thing at his attacker, he simply grabbed it and tore it apart, pages of the Wayne brothers' book scattering across the floor.
For a second time, Lord Wayne grabbed him by his hair and pulled him off the ground. However, there would be no snapping of necks. Rather, he began to drag Jason out of the secret room and down the cold hallways, up the cellar stairs, and back into the main castle.
"The party is over," Bruce growled at the nearest staff member. "See to it that all the guests leave, now!"
Jason clung to Lord Wayne's wrist, his feet stumbling along as he kept pulling him by his hair. He wanted to say something… but he got the distinct feeling that the Marquis wouldn't listen.
Why hadn't the spell worked? Why? He felt certain he had said all the words correctly! This just wasn't fair! He had… failed his brothers.
They came to one room in particular, where Richard, Damian, and Tim were lying on the floor, in one state or another, while Alfred stood over them, making sure they didn't try to escape. But Lord Wayne didn't put Jason with the others, oh no. They kept marching, on toward one of the tall windows, its curtains closed tightly. A deep, terrible dread started rising in Jason's chest. He knew this part of the castle, and he knew how easily light hit this wall.
"No…" he began, starting to dig in his heels.
"You've disobeyed me for the last time," the Marquis said darkly. He reached for the curtain, just as a nearby clock started chiming the hour.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
"NO!" Jason yelled, unable to stop his inevitable fate. He could already feel the burns on his skin—he'd felt them before.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
The curtain was drawn back, revealing a direct beam of light from the midday sun, shining through a gap in the clouds like a death ray!
"NOOOOOOO!"
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Jason blinked. Why wasn't he in pain? He ought to be in pain right now. Or, well, a burning sort of pain at least, not the headache and nausea sort of pain.
He blinked and frowned. What was he looking at? Was that…a ceiling?
Slowly, painfully, dizzily, he pulled himself upright and felt his dry throat go tight. This was… this was… this was his bathroom… his toilet and his sink and his bathtub. Was this… a dream? He forced himself to stand, and he nearly jumped when he saw his reflection in the mirror—the first time in a week. But that could only mean one thing.
"Haha!" He cried gleefully, and then he grimaced. "Er…" What had that crackpot Other him been doing? His hair was a mess, he was in nothing but his boxers, there were three glow stick necklaces hanging from his neck, he had a bruise on his left cheekbone, and the word "Idiot" was written across his forehead in sharpie. Okay, so Other Jason wasn't the only crackpot that had been involved with this. Three guesses who the other one might be.
But still, he was home! He stepped out of the bathroom and found himself in his safe house—with all his things and his kitchen and his guns and his clothes and his bed! His body felt completely thrashed, but at least he was home! Finally, finally home! He almost felt like skipping, he was so happy, and plopped down on the mattress, letting a million stresses and fears wash away.
Oh, but that did mean that he needed to hurry. The others were still stuck in vampire prison!
He stumbled around the apartment and grabbed some clothes, shoving them on as quickly as he could, and he may have gotten some of them backwards or inside out, but that didn't matter. He just needed to get to Bruce.
His motorcycle was waiting for him, topped off and untouched (thankfully). He hopped on and, even though his headache was getting progressively worse, peeled out onto the streets of Gotham, enjoying the sunshine and the rush of the wind for the first time in forever! The only thing keeping him from going any faster was the knowledge that the police would start coming after him, and he really didn't have time for that right now.
He was at Wayne Manor in a flash—and what a sight for sore eyes it was! He came crashing into the Batcave with reckless abandon, parking his bike hastily and ripping off his helmet. It felt good to be home!
"Jason!"
He flinched and turned around, the sound of that angry, low voice actually frightening him. Bruce was standing a short distance away, apparently tying up a miffed Richard. But once Jason remembered where and who he was, that fear melted away and was replaced with joy. He looked just the same as always, that big, muscly frame of his, his slightly combed, slightly messy black hair, his signature scowl—he'd missed it all.
"Bruce!" He shouted, running over to him. It was only when they were about a foot apart that he realised he was about to hug him, and he forced himself back. "Ahem, h-hey, Bruce."
"…Jason?" He asked, eyeing him. "Is that you?"
"Is the Joker still alive?" He retorted, coming down from his excitement.
The answer, of course, was "yes," and in one single sentence, he both put Bruce's worries at ease, and brought up a rather painful subject. It was Jason alright.
And then…
Jason hadn't been expecting what came next…
Bruce was… he had his arms wrapped around him, a hand cupping the back of his head. What the…
Bruce pulled away, his hands still on his shoulders. "Are you alright? Did they do anything to you?"
Jason swallowed. In all his years… he'd never felt quite so… "I'm okay," he croaked, his throat feeling tight again, but that could just be from the hangover. "Relatively speaking. Just… it's good to see you, Bats." And then Bruce… he actually smiled somewhat at him. It made Jason's face get all tight and funny-feeling.
"Oh, yes, whoopee," Richard sassed from the floor. He and Damien were together, tied up and immobilised. Bruce must have handled them during his bike ride over.
Jason's steely gaze suddenly locked onto them. "Lord Richard, I presume?" He bent low until they were at eye level. "How nice to see you again!" And with that, he punched him square in the nose.
"AGH!" He shrieked, reeling backward.
"THAT'S FOR GETTING ME TRAPPED IN ETIQUETTE HELL FOR A WEEK!"
"Jason," Bruce urged, grabbing him by the shoulder to stop him from inflicting any more damage. Then he frowned. "A week? You were only gone for three days."
He turned to him, his eyes tired and head throbbing. "I have been to a ball, an engagement party, paid a call to an auspicious lady, sat through hours of etiquette lessons—I know how to dance the Allemande—got thrown in a dungeon, died, came back to life, twice, and nearly got my skin burned off by a MANIAC! I've been gone for a week!"
"So you understand, then?" Said Richard, righting himself. Jason and Bruce looked down at him, frowning. "You understand why we had to do it?"
Jason's glare deepened. "Just because your life sucks, doesn't mean you have any right to take my life away from me, you putrid toad!"
Bruce squinted at him.
"Gah!" Jason cried. "I need to stop talking like that! The point is, you're not gonna get away with this and neither are your snot-nosed brothers! Speaking of which, where's Timothy?"
"Right here!" Said Stephanie as she and Cassandra escorted the third Wayne brother into the Batcave, tied up as well. "I can't believe I actually made out with a vampire… It's both so sexy and so creepy."
"Steph! Cass!" Jason smiled at them.
They both stopped and frowned.
"Is he… him?" Steph asked Bruce.
"Yes. He's back to normal," he replied.
"Normal as anyone around here ever gets, anyway," Jason finished.
"Okay, good, I was just wondering, cause, you know, the smile's kinda freaking me out," Steph went on, pushing Timothy forward. Yeah, it felt weird to be smiling this much as well, but Jason couldn't help it. For once—and he never thought he'd say this—he was just glad to be back with his… well… you know… family. "What's that black smudge on your forehead?"
"Nothing," Jason lied quickly, rubbing at the sharpie he apparently hadn't washed off all the way.
"Do I at least get a phone call?" Timothy deadpanned as he was forced to sit down with his brothers.
"To call who? You got vampire friends here in town?" Steph made sure his bonds were nice and tight before she left him alone.
"What's the plan?" Cassandra asked the two men present.
"Well, Jason, let's start with how you got back without the others," said Bruce, all eyes turning to him.
He took a breath. "Because I was the only one lucky enough to get away in time. We need to go back for them—the Marquis' probably torturing them right about now."
"Torturing?" Bruce repeated.
"It's a fun little hobby of his, I'll fill you in later. Now where're all those vampire toys of yours?"
"We goin' vampire hunting?" Came another voice. Everyone turned to see Duke hobbling down the stairs, rubbing his nose.
"Duke, I thought Alfred told you to stay in bed," Bruce frowned.
"Hey, temperature's gone way down," he explained. "I feel fine. Fine enough to kick some vampire butt!"
"Ooh! We get to see the castle!?" Stephanie jumped excitedly.
"You've seen castle before," Cass eyed her.
"Yeah, but not a vampire castle."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Said Jason. "Let's go save our brothers."
Richard barely had the strength to keep his eyes open, let alone call out to Jason as Lord Wayne pulled back the thick, velvet curtains and let pure, unfiltered sunlight pour over him. His shrieking was just unbearable. He couldn't watch.
Tim was still unconscious by his side, and Damian was nursing his broken wrist while they all waited for Jason's screaming to stop. By now, they were wondering if Lord Wayne's intentions really were to kill him… permanently.
The curtain was finally closed, but the moaning and crying remained. Jason looked like he had been victim to a terrible fire, his skin warped and scorched and almost melted. He was hideous to behold, making Richard feel sick to his stomach. This would be temporary, right? Did vampires have a healing factor? He sincerely hoped so, for his brother's sake.
They were all on the floor, each in their own state of misery (except perhaps Tim, who was snoring loudly) and the Marquis began to step between them slowly, perhaps looking each of them over and thinking of all the ways which they had offended him.
"So…" he suddenly said, grabbing their attention. "Are you finished, hm? Are you satisfied? How long are we truly going to go round this same old song and dance? Until the day you move out and marry yourselves a bride and disappear into the night?" Richard let his head fall to the floor in despair. This was it. They'd lost. They had tried to escape, but they had lost. The meeting place was an open secret, the medallion was now confiscated, and Bruce had left them behind. They had no means by which to contact him and no means by which to convince the Marquis that they were anything but his sons. "I say to you now… those dreams will never come to pass. None of you will leave this castle for as long as you live! I will see to it that every waking moment of your nights is chaperoned, from dusk till dawn! Perhaps then you will fully grasp the severity of your idiotic rebellion today, you worthless, rotten children!"
Richard… he wasn't listening anymore. Sure, he could still hear Lord Wayne's fuming dialogue, but he was far beyond feeling afraid. All that was left was hopelessness… and memories. The last of his memories.
As he laid there on the floor, expression blank and heart grey and heavy, he recalled… the shining lights of the circus… and flying through the air… he recalled the city lights and faces… faces of people he loved… like his mother and father and Bruce and Alfred and all of his siblings… he recalled all the good times they had had together… he tried not to think about the bad… how dreadful would it be for that to be his last thought of them all? No… he wanted to remember the best of them while he still could.
A single tear slipped down the side of his face.
It was highly likely that he would never see them again.
This… was his new home…
"What…" Jason said in a raspy breath. "…what… is… happening?" Richard felt his eyebrows squint ever so slightly. "…how… did… I… come… back?" Had he become delirious? The poor guy… and on top of everything else. "…No!" He moaned. "I was… finally… free…"
Finally free? Whatever did he mean by that?
"Be silent!" Lord Wayne ordered him. "Take them away to their rooms! And don't let them out!"
Valets and servants arrived, grabbing them and trying to stand them upright, but Richard had lost the will to care. What was the point of walking or eating or even breathing when life was this miserable? Besides, Mother would just use her telekinesis on them eventually, so why bother? What was the point of even living anymore?
He know truly understood how Other Richard felt, and why he had been so wooden the night they had first met. It was this same despair and anguish that Richard was feeling now which depressed upon him so.
He was upright, being held up by his shoulders as the servants did their due diligence in following their master's orders, when Richard thought he heard something. It was far away, and probably nothing, but it didn't sound all that familiar. It certainly wasn't the sort of sound one hears in a large, quiet castle.
He was being dragged along now, his feet sliding across the hardwood floor, when he heard it again, a little louder this time. It was almost like… no, it couldn't be. And yet it sounded just like a door slamming. But who would be out and about in the castle, slamming doors?
"On your feet, Richard," Alfred snapped at him, and he smacked him over the side of his head.
Timothy had been woken now, and the only person who had no excuse when it came to the matter of walking was Jason, who was being lifted onto a stretcher.
BOOM…
There it was again, only much closer. What was that noise?
Richard wasn't the only one who was noticing it now. Lord and Lady Wayne were frowning at the closed doors too. Just as he was about to stand on his own two feet again, just as Tim was rubbing his eyes, and just as Jason was about to be carted off—
CRASH!
The doors flung wide open.
"Knock knock, mother—"
"Jason!" Bruce snapped.
"Oh, come ooooon! Give me a break!"
The boys couldn't believe what they were seeing. It wasn't possible. This had to be a hallucination, there was no other explanation. Standing there, in the doorway, were Bruce, Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Duke, all battle-ready and weapons drawn.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?" The Marquis bellowed. "HOW DARE YOU—AH!" Cassandra had suddenly pulled back the nearest window curtain and Duke redirected the sunlight shining through it at him. He made it stop just an inch away from his nose. Richard noticed that the hallway behind them was similarly bathed in sunlight from the open windows, preventing any and all vampires from getting close to them. "You come into my home—threaten my life—where do you get the gall!?"
Bruce stepped forward, frowning. "Your sons have tricked us all, Lord Wayne."
With Duke still holding the vampires in the room at bay, Jason stepped in. "They used the medallion of Anime Iter to swap our bodies and our lives!" He grabbed Lord Richard and Lord Timothy by the ropes currently binding them and shoved them forward. Bruce had Lord Damien. "These are your sons, you Hell born shabaroon." The others glanced at him. "You know what I mean!" He shouted, a bit embarrassed.
The Marquis looked from one to the other—both sets of Wayne boys—the gears in his mind slowly but surely beginning to turn.
"You see, they fooled us both," Bruce went on. "But now it's time to set things right. Switch them back and I promise, we will never return to Wayne Castle ever again."
Richard turned suddenly around, watching Lord Wayne's contemplative face.
"Surely you can figure it out by now," he said to him. Please let him just face the truth! He'd been ignoring what was so painfully obvious for so long! "We did try to tell you. We're not your sons."
His eyes widened ever so slightly, and just a hint of colour rose in his ashen cheeks.
Lord Wayne coughed. "It seems as though I've made a fool of myself." Richard felt his spirits begin to rise. "Let them go."
And now, as the valets moved away, Richard stood on his own two feet, suddenly full of energy. There was only one place for that energy to go. Tim and Damian joined him as he bolted for Bruce, using their vampire speed to close the distance instantly, and hugging the man so tightly that he actually let out a gasp of pain.
"Father!" Damian cried out, burying his face in his bat suit.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you," Richard smiled.
It felt wonderful to be back in familiar arms, let alone arms that weren't going to hurt them.
Bruce, despite being just the slightest bit winded, held on to them tightly and said, "Everything's going to be alright now."
"Dude… are you crying?" Duke asked, watching them with a smile.
"No!" Richard insisted, swiping at his face. "It's just… really dusty in here!"
But then, Richard's eyes went wide as the smell of human blood filled his nose. He, Tim, and Damian suddenly lurched back.
"Oh, bad idea…" he took a deep breath, trying to tune out their scent. Eating his own family would NOT be a good way to end this adventure!
"What's wrong?" Bruce asked, coming closer.
"Don't—just stay over there!" Tim cried, putting a hand over his mouth. He suddenly saw Damian inching toward them and he pulled him back. "Damian, no! Sorry. We haven't exactly… fed in a long while." He grabbed his stomach as it suddenly began to ache from feeling so empty.
"Well then, let's get moving!" Stephanie announced. "As cool as it would be to have a vampire boyfriend, I don't think my mom would approve."
Pennyworth produced the medallion they had confiscated in the secret room, and the Wayne brothers were all sat together, untied, Lord and Lady Wayne watching the whole scene play out with more than a little unease.
"Ready to go back home?" Richard asked the Other him.
"What home would that be?" He replied darkly, Lord Timothy and Lord Damien at his sides.
"The one where you abandoned your fiancé."
Lord Richard narrowed his eyes. "I never loved her! Do you hear me, Father?! I never loved Princess Koriand'r!"
"And I never loved Princess Raven!" Damien added.
"I'm well aware," the lord replied sullenly.
"You knew…" Lord Richard gasped. "And yet you still forced us to be with them!?"
"Their status was valuable to this family's reputation!" The Marquis fired back.
"Dash our reputation! I love Miss Gordon!"
"I will not have my eldest son marrying some broken plebeian!"
"How dare you call her that!"
"You didn't seem to take issue with me and Miss Brown!" Said Timothy.
"That's only because he knew he could make up for it by betrothing me to Princess Raven!" Damien joined in angrily. (Although, now that he thought about it—now that he knew what Raven would grew up to be like—he suddenly found himself a little more okay with the situation.)
"A mistake I intend to remedy!" Lord Wayne snarled.
"What?!" Timothy cried. "You can't be serious—"
"I AM YOUR FATHER! YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!" He erupted, calming himself down just a little too late and adjusting his suit jacket in front of everyone. "We will discuss this further in private."
"Because you're all about saving face," Other Richard said sourly. Lord Wayne narrowed his eyes, clearly wishing he were back in his true body already so that he could punish him properly.
"You're a dysfunctional family and you all need therapy!" Tim threw in impatiently.
"More like a call from child services," said Damian, still holding his wrist.
"Enough of this!" The Marquis cried. "Get on with the spell!"
"Fine then," said Richard, holding up the medallion. (Jason had told him the words.) "Across the earth where voices cry, where visages of strangers lie, to flesh and soul and bone arise!" Once more, the magical circle appeared, sealing the six boys inside. An invisible wind blew about the room, causing hair and capes and dresses flutter about. "Make haste and bind my soul to thee, he whose body I decree, forevermore belongs to me!"
Now, since all parties involved were present, there would be no waiting for the clock to strike twelve. The ground beneath them simply ignited with a brilliant blast of colour and, for a moment, Richard felt weightless. He thought he might fade away into nothingness, blinded by the light, but then he felt solid again as the magic began to disappear.
He looked down at himself and saw his warm skin, his weathered hands, and a simple collared shirt. He felt like himself again. He looked to his sides and Tim and Damian were smiling up at him, no fangs no yellow eyes and no slicked back hair. Richard's nose did feel somewhat tender, though.
"We're back!" Tim cheered, high-fiving his big brother and getting a big hug and kiss on the cheek from Steph.
"Thank you, Jason," said Richard, coming over and giving him a brief hug and pat on the back. For surely it was Jason who had called for the cavalry after he had managed to escape. Jason himself was feeling just a bit happy about it all. He had been the one to get them stuck in this world, and fittingly, he had been the one to help get them out.
"Don't mention it," he mumbled, trying not to smile.
Then, they turned to Bruce. Richard moved first, finally able to hug him without fear of wanting to harm him, and let the feel of his arms blot out the horrible memories of collapsing at Lord Wayne's feet in pain. All those nights when he didn't know if he would ever see Bruce again, or Gotham or Bludhaven or Kori or Alfred… all those nights that he had wished to wake up from this nightmare… they were finally over. And he couldn't believe how happy he was to have this man, out of all the men in the world (or the multiverse), as his father.
"…Dad…" he whispered so that only Bruce could hear. "…I love you."
It might have been his imagination, but he thought he heard Bruce swallowing hard, especially as Tim gave him a second brief hug as well. But then Stephanie came bounding in and smooshed him back up against Bruce as she joined in the group hug. Damian, now coming back to his normal self, formally tried to shake Bruce's hand, only to get pulled into the fray and squeezed tight by his father and big brothers. Soon, Duke and Cass were in on it too, which only left Jason. He was standing awkwardly off to the side, shuffling his feet. Richard—Dick—caught him standing there and he smiled.
"Come on, you big softy," he said, holding out his arm to him.
"No, I think I'm good," he said taking a step back.
"Group hug attack!" Stephanie called as she led the charge. Jason barely had enough time to panic, let alone run away as everyone came at him, grabbing him in an fourteen-armed mega hug. Bruce, prime among them.
"It's good to have you back," he said in his ear, and that funny feeling welled up in Jason's chest again. He had to take a steadying breath or else—well, no, he wasn't going to loose his cool—come on! This is Jason Todd we're talking about—he would never—ever—in a million years—feel so moved by finally being lovingly hugged by his entire family after a week of reliving household abuse from a father figure—no way.
"Who's crying now?" Richard chuckled.
Jason angrily tried to swipe at his eyes, but his arms were held down in the massive hug. "It's just dust!" He protested.
"Uh-huh. Heard that one before."
Slowly, they let go, the moment passing, and Jason was free to cross his arms and grumble to himself in peace. He wasn't happy, and he wasn't crying. So there.
Meanwhile, Lord Richard, back in his rightful body, was wincing, feeling his temples, and Lord Damien was clutching his wrist. Timothy was fine, just angry. "I hope you're happy," he spat.
"Oh, we are, believe me," said Damian.
In the background, Jason was walking over to his counterpart, examining the burns all along his skin.
"You… ruined… everything…" he seethed.
Jason just glared back at him. "There wouldn't have been anything to ruin if you hadn't gone and messed with the wrong family." He childishly flicked his nose, causing a pang of pain across the lord's sensitive skin.
"Well then…" said Lord Wayne as he stepped over to his sons. He seemed awfully stiff and uncomfortable, eager to have everyone leave his house. "I believe we had a bargain." He placed a hand on Richard's shoulder and Ri—Dick—saw him flinch. He knew all too well what those boys would be in for once they left, and part him couldn't help but feel pity. The Marquis didn't even have the good sense to apologise for everything he'd done to four boys who did not belong to him, why should he expect him to have the decency not to abuse his true sons once the doors were closed again?
"So we did," said Bruce, coming over to his boys and guiding them away from the man who had spent the better part of a week torturing them. It was time for them to keep their word and leave this place once and for all, never to return. Good riddance. "Good day, Lord Wayne. May your family find happiness one day." A hidden meaning passed between the two men, and the Marquis' grip on Richard's shoulder lessened.
"And have fun explaining yourself to Miss Brown, Lord Timothy!" Tim called back to him as the Batfamily walked out of the room together.
"And you'd better take in Miss Gordon if her father dies and she's still unmarried!" Dick added, pointing a finger at the Marquis. "They're some of this family's oldest friends!" Other Bruce just frowned.
"And say 'hi' to Lord Jon for me, Diddy-kins!" Damian sneered at his counterpart who scowled back at him.
"Oh, that reminds me," said Jason, turning around and making eye contact with the Marquis. With a grin, he bit his thumb and then flicked it in his direction, making the auspicious Lord growl under his breath.
"What the heck was that?" Duke asked, confused.
"DANG IT!" Jason cried, having used yet another Victorian era insult by mistake.
"Come on," said Bruce seriously. "Let's get you home."
"Do you think they'll be alright?" Dick asked, now out of earshot.
"Who's to say. Unfortunately, it's not exactly any of our business. But if that Marquis has any good sense at all, he'll see that this whole mess was his own fault. But he would need to let go of his pride, first, before anything changes for him," Bruce mused.
"You look awful, by the way," Damian said to Jason as they walked.
"Thank you so much for stating the obvious," he fired back. He was still very tired and a little dizzy. The dimensional travel hadn't helped with that.
"And what's that written on your forehead—?"
"It's nothing!"
The castle seemed very different now as they walked, closing the curtains behind them. For once, Dick could rest in the knowledge that he didn't have to live here, and his parents weren't soulless monsters, and he didn't need to attend another ball, and he didn't have to eat jellied eels anymore. Which reminded him, "What's for dinner tonight?" He asked.
"Beef Bourguignon, I think," Bruce answered.
"Cooked meat!" Tim declared, elatedly throwing his arms into the air. "Oh, that shouldn't make me so happy…"
"More like, no meat!" Damian added. "I've never been so disgusted with myself!" For surely the Marquis would have punished him if he didn't gratefully accept the food that was given to him each and every night. But now he could eagerly go back to his life of vegetarianism and visit Batcow and Titus and Jerry and Alfred the cat.
"What, I thought you liked the fish heads and the jellied eels?" Dick teased him, making Damian look sick.
"Excuse me, what?" Steph asked, alarmed.
"Jeez, what all happened to you guys?" Duke piped up.
"It's a looong story," Jason sighed. "But right now, I really just want to take an aspirin and then sleep for a hundred years."
"I think that can be arranged," said Bruce, lifting up the dimensional device and opening a swirling, white portal that took them back home, back to the safety and familiarity of the Batcave and Wayne Manor and their butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Back where this whole ordeal began.
"Oh, hey, Bruce—question: how would you feel about adopting another dog?"