Disclaimer: not mine

So, no one wants to kill me for dusting Tim?! He's completely dead right as he was starting to remember and they escaped, did this not make anyone sad or angry?

Chapter 7

Clark carefully settled Dick into the backseat of the Batmobile, making sure he'd be comfortable. He then moved to Bruce's side where his friend was still on his knees beside the ash that had once been his son. There was nothing left of Tim, less than even a cremation would leave. But Clark carefully moved to gather up some of the ash, let them have something to bury, to mourn over. It took him a few seconds to fashion a temporary container from debris and then he gently pressed it into Bruce's hands. Even in the cowl, his devastation was clear to Clark.

He grimaced as he heard the sound of approaching sirens in the distance. "Bruce, you need to go. Sirens are approaching."

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She stared at the footage, hand over her mouth, listening to the comms but unable to say anything. Thankfully, none of them were actually talking to her at the moment. Tim…she still remembered that bright eyed smiling little genius she'd first met, someone able to keep up with her on the computer. How had she been so blind to miss as that brightness faded over the years.

Babs wished she had reached out to him more after Bruce was 'killed', if he'd known he could come to her, that she'd listen…maybe he wouldn't have ended up in that mess with Ra's. And Tim had never really come back from that, he'd been in Gotham physically, running WE and working as Red Robin…but he'd never truly come back to the family and they'd all just let him slip through the cracks.

Finding out Tim was a vampire…it had been a shock but at least there'd been a chance of him coming home but now…she hadn't seen it; Bernard had been wearing the camera. She'd seen the world tumbling around him, realised he'd been thrown by the explosion, had seen the water. She should have told them to go after him but…

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Jason stared at the burnt out remains of the warehouses that had been Tim's 'home' for the last two years or so. He'd deserved so much better. Dick was alive, he'd seen his big brother's chest move as Clark had carried him to the car. His eyes went to Bruce, seeing the utter defeat…no…no…not Tim. Not again. Tim was fine…he was just…hiding. And then he watched as Clark gathered up some ashes into an improvised container, gently pressing it into B's hands.

He ripped his helmet off and turned away, fighting not to throw up. Ash…Tim had…Tim had burned to death… they were meant to get there in time, they were meant to save him! Not even a Lazarus Pit could bring someone back from ashes. Tim was really gone forever.

He heard Steph start to sob and turned, catching her as her legs gave way, tucking her into his side to keep her from looking any more. At least the brat was trying to comfort his father.

"Hey Supes, was there another kid with them? Bernard was leading the escape."

Clark shook his head, "only Dick and T…Tim were here."

Damn it, they'd failed Bernard too. He'd liked the kid, had hoped they could help him find a way to live without having to kill to eat. B had been working on it, donor blood would only go so far after all, blood banks were always begging more people to donate for a reason.

And then he stared as a sopping wet figure staggered into view, some hair burnt off and what looked like days old burns down the side of his face.

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Bernard forced himself to keep going, stumbling along, thankful he didn't feel the cold with how wet he was. He had no clue where he was but that was fine, the stench of burning vampire made it easy to head towards what had been his home for the last few months. He honestly had preferred the old house to the massive warehouse, it had been warmer, cosier. As he got closer, he picked up on heartbeats, the bats, that was good. Dick needed medical help. But why wasn't Tim saying anything? Finally, he turned around a building, there was Hood looking at him in…relief?

Bernard stopped, looking around, where was he? "Tim?" he called softly, and then a stranger turned to him. That was Superman! But the look on his face…. Bernard shook his head, no, Tim had carried Dick out! They'd made it out, he'd heard them!

"Tim?!" he cried out for his fellow vampire and then he saw the small container Batman…Bruce Wayne…was holding. "No," he whimpered.

A heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder and he looked up at Jason. "He…he didn't make it kid."

"But…but they were out, I heard them." He'd heard them get through the door even as he'd been scrambling out a boarded-up window.

"Superman could hear them; Tim wouldn't move away from the warehouse. He…he called himself a monster, no matter how Dick tried to get him to come away."

A monster? He was right, they were monsters, they'd killed how many people? He shivered and not from the cold, but then a heavy weight settled over his shoulders and he realised it was Hood's jacket, even as the man drew him in against his side.

"Cops are coming, we need to go." He began walking, and Bernard let himself be drawn along.

Soon he was being bundled into the passenger seat of the Batmobile, something he would have freaked out over once but now he didn't care. He glanced back at where Dick lay unconscious, watching his chest rise and fall with breath. Then Batman was in the driver's seat and the car began to move, without the man touching anything.

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He stared at the screens, taking in the views from the various cameras carried by his family, hearing the words over the comms. He collapsed into the chair before the computer, struggling to hold onto his composure. Timothy…dear Tim…how was it fair to give them hope and then rip it away like that? He'd been watching Bernard's camera since Master Damian had alerted everyone, had heard Master Timothy as he struggled to remember, how he had recognised his brother.

He took a deep breath; he had work to do. A place for young Bernard would need to be prepared, somewhere safe from sunlight. And he would need to ensure they had spare blood at hand, those burns on his face would likely heal better if he…ate. That would take some getting used to but they would adjust and help him learn to live with his condition.

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Bruce let the automated systems drive them back to the cave. A glance showed that Bernard seemed to be in shock, if vampires could suffer shock? So, he focused on his son. Dick was pale, purple bruises standing out starkly under his eyes despite sleeping during the day. He'd lost weight too and there were scars on his throat, puncture marks from where he'd been fed from over and over.

"His heart's steady," Bernard's voice was so soft he almost missed the words.

He glanced at the boy to see him huddled in Jason's jacket, wet hair plastered to his head. The burns looked better than they had at first but they weren't healing any further. Bernard's head was leaning against the window now, eyelids heavy despite the fact it was barely halfway through the night.

"How badly are you hurt?" he asked, and the boy turned his head to blink at him in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Anything other than the burns?" he indicated his face, and Bernard touched his face only to hiss in pain. It seemed he hadn't even realised he was burnt. Then again, if he'd been blown clear into the bay, it wasn't surprising. The impact with the water alone should have broken bones, would have on a human, but maybe not a vampire?

They entered the cave and Bernard sat up, staring in awe.

Bruce forced himself to move, getting out of the Batmobile to begin pulling Dick out, but then Clark was there. Best to let him do it, he could protect any injuries better while moving him. So, he moved to the passenger seat, reaching in to help a bewildered looking Bernard out of the car. He pulled his cowl off, the boy had worked out who they were after all, he thought Tim would be proud of his old friend for that. He guided Bernard to the medical area and the boy tensed, trembling slightly.

"It's alright Bernard, you are safe here," he did his best to pitch his voice gently. He guided him to the bed and helped him up onto it and then went to get the burn cleaning supplies, healing or not, it would be best to remove any debris and germs.

"Why…I…I failed. Tim is…"

"We had your camera feed and Clark heard…what happened isn't your fault," Bruce told him, shoving his grief down as deep as he could. He had a traumatised teenager to help and Tim would want him to help his friend. "I'm going to clean your wounds and check for more."

"They'll heal," Bernard murmured, staring at the ground.

"True, but they'll likely heal faster without dirt and germs in them."

"Indeed Master Bruce. I took the liberty of warming some of the stored blood to room temperature," Alfred said as he joined them, holding a thermos out to Bernard who hesitantly took it.

He sniffed and his eyes went red, fangs appearing. He lifted the thermos to his mouth, drinking hungrily. It was a relief to see his burns begin to heal further as he took in fresh sustenance. The thermos at least hid what he was drinking, though Bruce was close enough he could faintly smell blood as he worked, gently checking for broken bones.

Alfred then returned with some clean clothes…some of Tim's old things since they were the closest in size. Bernard stared at them, eyes clouding with bloody tears and it took him a moment to realise why…scent, he must be able to smell Tim on the clothing.

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Bernard shakily changed into the clothes, Tim's clothes, fighting to not cry. It wasn't quite the scent he knew so well; it was a human scent not vampire, but it was still so obviously Tim's. being surrounded by even a slightly faded scent of Tim…it was comforting but it also hurt. Once it faded from his things…he'd never smell it again. He pressed his nose to the soft fabric, breathing deeply.

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He groaned, whole body aching, wrists stinging, head fuzzy. That was normal thought, he always felt fuzzy after Tim put him out…Tim…his eyes snapped open and he hissed at the bright lights.

"Richard?" a familiar voice called, sounding almost hesitant, and he turned his head, forcing his eyes open. Damian was sitting beside him and Dick smiled at him.

"Hey Dami," he murmured, lifting a hand, seeing the bandages around his wrist.

He could see the pain and fear in his baby brother's eyes and he forced himself to move, shifting across the bed, Damian taking the offer to crawl onto it. Dick wrapped his arm around his brother soaking up the warmth. He'd been so cold all the time and contact with Tim had not been warm, though the forced activities had helped him warm up at times. But he forced himself not to think of that.

He could vaguely hear Bruce and Alfred nearby, speaking softly, but was too tired to call out to them. "Tim and Bernard?" he asked, coughing and then a straw was at his lips. He looked up to see Jason, face tight with grief and then it all came flooding back. "No…Timmy…" he sobbed, clutching Damian tighter.

"I'm sorry Dickie," Jason whispered, a hand resting against Dick's back.

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Jason watched Dick fall back to sleep, Damian remaining tucked against him, heated blankets helping to keep Dick warm. He was glad that Dick had woken and had remembered what had happened after a few moments. He didn't want to have to tell him but he would have to keep Damian from having to, that should not be a kids duty.

Bernard was fast asleep upstairs in a room that Alfred had quickly equipped with heavier curtains. There was talk of installing technology to ensure the teen wasn't accidentally exposed to sunlight…if he chose to remain at the manor. Jason thought it might be too painful for him.

And there was also the worry of how Kon would react when he returned. No one thought he'd hurt Bernard but…it would be hard to accept he'd survived and Tim hadn't. the whole team was due back in a few days and he was glad he wasn't going to have to tell them. That would be up to B and Clark on the Watchtower. Who knew, maybe Bernard and Kon could help each other with their grief, bond through it. Tim…Tim would have liked that.

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Bernard blinked in confusion as he woke feeling warmer than he had since dying…soft, he was lying on something soft, covered in blankets. He stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling and then it hit him and he bit back a sob. Slowly, he sat up and looked around the room he'd been given. He was at Wayne Manor; he was free of Mistress…and Tim was dead. There was no coming back from that kind of death, nothing left but ashes. At least…at least it would have been quick.

There was a thermos on the bedside table and he picked it up, drinking the contents quickly. The thermos kept the blood warm which was nice but it wasn't as much as he usually drank for a meal. There was clothing in the drawers and closet, some of it was new but the rest…smelt like Tim. The underwear was all new and he grabbed some plus some clothes and went into the bathroom. A hot shower…he hadn't had one since the morning he was taken. Not like vampires sweated or anything, they only needed to wash blood of their skin from feeding or fighting. But the idea of a hot shower and feeling warm had him turning it on as hot and powerful as it would go before stepping under the spray.

Eventually he left the bedroom to find himself in a dimly lit hall, scenting the air he followed the scent of the older man who had taken him to the bedroom until he picked up on heartbeats. He hesitantly opened the door to find himself in a large kitchen, the man…Alfred, working at the stove while two people around the age he should be watched. He had always kept up with the Wayne family even after they drifted apart, always wanting to know Tim was okay so he was pretty sure the girl was Cassandra Wayne and the guy was Duke Thomas.

She looked over and smiled sadly at him. "Hungry?" she asked, and he nodded. She pointed and there was another waiting thermos.

"Can you eat food, Master Bernard?"

"Uh," Master? "No sir, only blood."

"Very good, Master Bruce is working with some of the League on creating something as donor blood is not a feasible long-term answer."

He was what? He looked back at the other two in confusion and the guy grinned at him, even though he smelt of grief.

"They started as soon as we met you." He stood and walked over, holding his hand out. "Duke Thomas."

"Bernard Dowd," he gave his name in return, despite the fact they all knew it.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor and the family."

"I…what?"

Duke took his arm and led him to the barstool they were sitting on.

"You have a home here, Master Bernard, for as long as you wish."

"If you want to go home, B can talk to your parents but you apparently weren't keen on that idea when you met?" Duke asked, he hadn't been there that night so he was…probably Signal, the daytime bat. All the night-time bats were fairly pale except Robin but he was also nothing like Duke either.

"They wouldn't accept this," he told him. It was strange, in some ways it felt like barely days since he'd been living at home with his parents, considering colleges and in others, it felt like years and years since then. He wasn't the son they lost; he'd changed too much even with his memories back. He'd killed people, to survive or not, and they would never accept that, or the fact he'd slept with his Sire, with Tim and others of his 'brothers'.

"I'm sorry," Duke murmured, patting his hand, and not flinching from the cold. "That room is yours for as long as you want it."

"Indeed, there is special glass that can be installed that can be darkened during the day and then transparent at night. We can also install blinds under the curtains that will work on a sensor for your room and the end of the hall. So long as there is sunlight, they will remain closed," Alfred explained as he served the other two their food.

That…those things had to be crazy expensive but they talked about it as if it was nothing. Unless he lived underground or in a building with no windows, that sounded like the safest he could be. "But why?"

"Because we can help you," was the answer, and Bernard nearly jumped.

He'd been so lost in thought, that while he'd detected an approaching heartbeat, he hadn't really taken it in. He looked up to meet Mr Wayne's eyes, staring at him, seeing no fear. There was so much grief but also…kindness. He bit his lip, fighting the urge to cry. "Really?" he asked, desperate for it to be real, for them to really want him, to not hurt him.

"Really," Bruce answered, moving to gently clasp his shoulder.

They were all so warm and they were offering to let him share that warmth, despite his failure to save Tim, all the people he'd killed… "Please," he whispered.

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Kon felt lighter than he had in a while even as they approached Earth. It was a relief to be returning home and he couldn't help but hope that Tim would be there, safe, even if he still didn't remember him. Surely, they'd gotten them out by now, Clark would have helped for Bruce and Dick's sake.

He froze as soon as he saw Clark and Bruce waiting for them. No…he shook his head, denying everything he could see in their body language. Clark moved forward and gently drew him into a hug, comfort…and restraint.

"I'm so sorry Kon…they had no choice but to make an attempt, Tim…Tim started to remember but he was confused and disorientated. If he'd been found in that state, his memory would have been wiped again, Dick turned, and Bernard killed. I was off world, when I hit the atmosphere, I heard Dick calling for you, heard the bats rushing to reach them. I…I was too late. The warehouse blew up and Tim…Tim was too close. It was quick, if he felt anything it would have only been for a second," Clark explained gently.

No…no! he felt his legs give way, everything going dark.

"KON!"

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Babs stared at her screens but then forced herself to get to work. Tim Drake would need to die in a way that would leave no remains. She hated that she had to be the one to do this, but the sooner it was done the better. The family could then grieve in public and not have to hide it. Tim had his pilot's licence…renting a small plane in his name was easy enough, M'gann taking his appearance when the time came. She had once taken a bullet in his place to save his life…now she was doing it to kill him.

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Dick leant on Jason as they made their way upstairs. He still had a lot of weight to re-gain but his injuries were mostly healed and the weight loss could be covered by grief and the story that he'd been ill, which had been the cover story for his disappearance. He'd been in the dark for so long it felt that seeing the sunlight felt weird, too bright. But he sat on the couch and ate the food Alfred gave him.

He had to recover, because Tim would never have wanted him to follow him and the rest of his siblings needed him, B needed him.

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Kon sat between Dick and Jason in the front row, not paying any attention to the service. Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne was officially dead, killed in a plane crash on his way home from Europe. It was the best way to explain the 'cremated' remains according to Bruce and Babs. No one outside their community would ever know how truly amazing Tim had been.

The funeral had started just after sunset, allowing Bernard to attend. He was sitting at the other end of the row. Kon knew it wasn't his fault, he'd been cut off and forced to find his own way out, if anyone of them had died, it should have been him since he'd had so little time and so few options. But he had fought to survive and had made it. Tim…Tim hadn't fought, he'd chosen to die. Confused by memories that slipped in and out of his grasp he'd thought he was a monster. He hadn't been and neither was Bernard. Tim would be happy his old friend had survived and that he was becoming part of the Wayne family.

Bernard had been in love with Tim, Kon had seen it that night they met. It was hard, knowing Bernard had been with Tim, had known him even as changed as he'd been, that he'd reached the real Tim and been shown gentleness. But none of that was Bernard's fault, he'd been through hell, had his life stolen from him…literally. He knew he was there but he couldn't hear anything except a slight movement of air as Bernard faked breathing enough to not raise questions.

Bernard turned his head and their eyes met, brown widening slightly, and Kon nodded slightly to him.

The urn was placed in the grave in the Wayne graveyard, not with Tim's parents. He was a Wayne after all, they had lost Tim years ago but they knew it now, knew how they'd failed him. They'd all wanted the chance to make up for it and now they'd never get it. Bruce had asked him if it was okay for Tim to be buried with his family and in the end, Kon had agreed. Ma and Pa had offered a plot in Smallville if he'd prefer it, they were sitting behind him with Clark, Lois, and Jon. Cassie and Bart were with them, others who'd eventually been their teammates spread through the crowd. But Gotham had been his home, even if they had been planning to leave.

Finally, it was over and everyone slowly dispersed. Only family and closest friends heading for the Manor. Kon moved to the temporary headstone, hating the sight of it, of the grave.

"I'm sorry," Bernard whispered, standing just behind him.

Kon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then turned to face him. "It's not your fault Bernard and Tim wouldn't want you to blame yourself."