Disclaimer: don't own DC.

So, Tim as the same kind of vampire as in Strong Enough to Fight but with some events different.

Chapter 1

He carefully pushed himself to his feet, head spinning and body aching. What had happened? He checked his gear, finding a rip in his side, thankful the wound was already healing. He'd been…they'd been checking out suspicious activity at the docks…and then nothing. How'd he get downtown? He checked his comm, finding it worked. "Crow to Oracle," he called but only static answered him, that was weird, they fixed their comm channels every night, she should be on that line.

He checked the frequencies but there was nothing, he couldn't raise anyone on comms and that was not normal. Even if Oracle was off, someone would be on. Agent A in the Cave and even Hood stayed on his if he had technically turned in for the night, just to be safe. They had revamped protocols after everything, they'd lost too many. And that was when it hit him, the bonds…all gone. Dick, Bernard…Sire and first Childe…all the others he'd turned or inherited when he'd killed her…all gone. NO! He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, how could they all be gone? Something was just blocking him, somehow.

But there was something else…Gotham herself felt…different. Like before the take-over, as if the only danger in the night was the Rogues and petty criminals. But that didn't make sense. Even with Tim him in control, people remained wary, it was why they did their best to not reveal their status when in the mask. He knew people suspected several of the Waynes of being vampires, but not the bats and birds.

Which was why he drew his grapple gun, launching himself off the roof, heading for the nearest shelter since he could use some blood…only to find a coffee shop…the shop whose owners had been killed so he had bought it for the shelter. Had he somehow…time travelled? So, he headed for his Nest on the edge of Crime Alley…only to find the theatre still there and looking ready to collapse. But that would mean he'd travelled back to before B… his unneeded breath hitched at the thought. Bruce… were they all still alive?

Was there a younger version of him somewhere, still human? Could…could he stop what had happened? Save them all? He changed direction, he would go to the Bunker, his codes hadn't changed in years for it before his 'death', he could check the date, see where everyo…

He fumbled his landing, managing to roll, as he stared at the building before him. What the hell?!

The Timothy Wayne Memorial Studio. He felt sick and he wasn't even able to throw up anymore. That wasn't…it couldn't… he took a steadying breath and then leapt to the roof, easily finding bat access, working around the security almost just as easily, the tech…old. He found himself in the entrance and there, a photo he remembered sitting for not long after his adoption. And then he stared at the dates beneath it, birth…and death. And it wasn't the date when Dick had ripped claws into his abdomen, no…it was the date the Widower had impaled him. But that wasn't…what was going on?

This…this wasn't time travel. He moved deeper into the building, it was a photography studio, displays of work by school students decorating the walls along with some of his own work. There were workrooms, offices, and then he found a locked room, breaking in. It seemed to be the main office and he quickly powered the computer on, getting around the security on it. The date…definitely not his dimension then, because his twenty-first birthday was in three months and there were online articles about the Wayne's doing something in memory. He'd already been a vampire for two years when he turned twenty-one. And there…an old article from four years ago.

Timothy Drake-Wayne killed in car bombing in Iraq

He swallowed as he read through it, a car bomb while in Iraq on WE business in Bruce's stead…the cover Z had given the soldiers. Was it possible it had happened or was it all part of covering up his real death? Or…he grimaced, or was it a coverup by Ra's and this Tim was trapped in the LoA? He'd dealt with Ra's, permanently, last year. Ever since he'd killed Sophia, his powers had grown very quickly, so he'd handled the man fairly easily, it had helped he hadn't expected it given the years of animosity between Tim and Damian.

Ra's had gone after Damian, the last Wayne by blood, and they had reacted, Dick enraged. Even though Damian had made it clear that he didn't want to see him ever, Dick still loved the kid, still wanted the best for him, and he understood Damian's feelings. Talia had died defending her son from her own father, Damian had attacked the man, ready to kill, but had been overpowered until they had arrived. Bernard had tended to Damian, had tried to save Talia, while Tim and Dick had taken the ancient man apart, Jason covering them. No Lazarus Pit could bring him back from what they had done.

So, if this Ra's had this Tim, then he would deal with it. He knew what to look for, knew that Tim would either still be trying to escape, to call for help or…or he'd be brainwashed into serving Ra's, likely with the Pit involved. But they knew how to fix that now, though he doubted his human self would thank him for it.

Everyone else seemed to be okay at least. Damian was in his first year of high school, living a normal life…and no sign of Robin? The press was basically cooing over the prickly teen in an article with photos of him volunteering at a shelter. Dick seemed to be helping to run the studio and a gymnastic school for underprivileged kids. Jason wasn't seen as Jason Todd, but the Red Hood was active so he was okay. Cassandra Wayne only showed up occasionally, mainly at dance recitals. Duke wasn't a Wayne but it seemed he was in college and Steph…where was she? Where was Batgirl? And then his heart sank as he stared at the obituary. She'd never officially been connected to the family since they had dated in the mask and she'd had her mother so had never been fostered or adopted. So, her death and funeral had been quiet, almost two years ago. Oh Steph…

He looked for Bernard but there was nothing, he found mentions of his parents…they had died childless three years ago in a car accident. His best friend, his first Childe…had never existed here. That hurt, a hole in his heart where the brilliant blond had resided. He may not have turned Bernard out of his own free will, but he had never regretted it. Jackdaw had been a great addition to the birds and Bernard had flourished as one of them.

He almost looked for the Justice League…Young Justice, the Titans, but he stopped himself. It was bad enough Bernard didn't exist and that Steph was dead, he couldn't handle anymore, not at the moment.

He cleared the computer and then shut it down, slipping away, he needed to feed to finish healing and so he could handle Gotham's average low sunlight levels. If he wanted to get home then he'd have to ask for help, which meant approaching the bats and hoping they were aware of the multiverse here. Which meant he'd have to play human as best he could, good thing he was used to that. He didn't know if this dimension had vampires or what they were like if it did so it would be for the best if no one found out.

He headed towards the docks, keeping easily to the shadows in case any of the bats were out, finding a man stalking a couple, smelling gunpowder on him. Before the man could do anything, Crow dropped down, unarming him, ensnaring his mind before biting down, drinking enough to leave the man woozy but not permanently harmed. He then left him for the police and headed across the city. Now that he was full, he had to find clothing, he couldn't show up at Wayne Manor in gear in the day.

,

Alfred was puzzled to hear the doorbell as no one had been buzzed through the gates and no one was expected. Still, he went to answer it, just a tad more cautiously than normal. He opened the door, ready to face their visitor, but froze in shock.

"Hi Alfred," Master Tim murmured. His hair was longer than Alfred remembered and he was also taller though still slender, his skin pale.

He shook off his shock, readying to defend himself if needed. "Who are you?" he demanded, angry that someone would dare try something like this.

"Tim Drake-Wayne…just not your Tim. Not sure if the codes are anything alike here but B-RR-797392C," the young man recited and then grimaced. "Unless your Tim didn't take on the Red Robin moniker?" he asked softly. "I can give my Robin code too."

Master Bruce had many codes, and that wasn't one he immediately recognised, but this person knew or at least suspected that Master Tim had been Robin. Not their Tim…what did he mean by that? A clone?

"I need help to get home, please Alfred."

He hesitated but Masters Bruce and Dick were downstairs. He pressed the alert and then stepped back to allow the boy inside, ever since the events that led to Miss Stephanie's death, they'd had extra security installed.

He stepped inside and flinched ever so slightly, a mark by the door lighting up and Alfred hurriedly backed away, reaching for the ward control, heart sinking.

,

If their Tim had died on his Bruce quest then they probably hadn't updated his codes to RR but Alfred seemed to accept it, letting him inside. He stepped over the threshold and felt a sting, magic… and then Alfred was moving away, eyes wide, hardening.

Tim took a breath and raised his hands in surrender. He guessed they'd had enough dealings with the supernatural to have upgraded security, that meant things could go very badly for him. "I won't hurt you Alfred, I could never hurt any version of you," Tim swore.

And then he was hit by lethargy, stumbling a step, struggling to keep his eyes open. What? He slumped to his knees, smelling magic, wards… he crumpled to the floor, keeping his eyes on Alfred, managing a small smile for the man before everything faded away.

,

Alfred watched the being wearing Master Tim's face succumb to the protective ward, there had been no attempt to attack, no anger, just a small smile as he passed out. As if he understood Alfred's actions and accepted them…just like Timothy would have. But the dear boy was four years dead, hadn't been alive when the Manor was warded by Zatanna and Constantine after…

"Alfred?" Master Bruce called as the two came into view only to freeze at the sight of the collapsed body.

Master Dick cautiously approached, rolling him only to gasp in shock as he took in familiar features. "Tim…"

,

Dick carefully rolled the body over, wanting to see what they were dealing with. Black hair fell back to reveal familiar features, far paler than ever, no scars…but it looked like him. "Tim…" he whispered in grief. The body was unmoving, still as death, but the wards etched into the marble floor were active so he wasn't dead dead. He reached out to gently brush some more hair back, it was longer than Tim had ever worn it, feeling the coldness of his skin.

"It isn't him chum," Bruce murmured, hand gripping his shoulder. "Tim is dead, we cremated him, remember?"

Dick nodded, the body they had gotten back had thankfully been embalmed, they could have buried him. They'd even closed up the wound that had…killed him, he'd been fully prepared for even an open casket funeral if they'd wanted it but…but Tim had left a last message, one Babs had eventually found and decrypted, begging for cremation and to not be buried with his parents. So, he had a headstone in the Wayne family plot, the urn interned beneath it.

This couldn't be Tim but then who was it? They'd checked after Tim died in case they needed to be told but he had no living relatives. And no one would look so much like him unless they were a sibling, a twin even. Had…had someone cloned Tim? The wards had taken him…it…him down, which meant supernatural. Given how cold and still he was, the most likely option…was a vampire. And that made Dick feel sick. Even if it had been Tim, it wouldn't be him anymore. They'd learnt that the hard way.

"What do we do?"

"He said he needed help getting home, that he isn't our Tim, sir," Alfred spoke up.

"So, he didn't try to pretend to be him?" Bruce asked in confusion.

"He did recite a code that sounds like one of yours though not one I recognise."

"What was it?"

"B-RR-797392C, he then said that our Tim might not have used the Red Robin moniker and that he could recite the Robin code if we wished."

"Bruce?" Dick looked up at him, having felt him stiffen.

"I never taught any of you the CR sequence, there's never been a hint…" he murmured.

"So, it is one of yours?" he looked from Bruce back to the body on the ground.

"For someone displaced in the multiverse."

"Not our Tim," Dick whispered. Was it possible? If it was then maybe…maybe he wasn't like their vampires? Could…could he finally get to say he was sorry?

"Let's move him downstairs, we'll put him in a cell with some blood, see how he reacts once awake," Bruce finally decided, and Dick was glad he didn't just stake him there and then.

Dick picked him up, feeling the solid mass of muscle no matter how slender he was. He was late teens, very early twenties at the most so if their timelines matched then he hadn't been turned too long ago. "How'd he get here in the day?" he asked in confusion and worry. If he had drunk from someone to get that sunlight invulnerability, he hoped it had been in his own universe and not theirs.

"I'll run a check to make sure everyone's fine," Bruce answered.

Dick carefully set Tim down on the shelf that served as a bed in the cell, making sure he was lying comfortably. He frisked him quickly but thoroughly, finding a collapsed bō and a few birdarangs, a comm in his ear. No wallet or id and the clothes didn't fit him well, so not his?

Bruce appeared with a bag of blood they kept on hand for transfusions, putting it close to Tim and then they left the cell, activating the security.

Dick took the comm to the computer, it was different to theirs, smaller, more intricate…and not running on any of the channels they used. The bō was just like the one he remembered Tim using, though weighted a bit differently but that made sense with a vampires greater strength. The birdarangs were standard bat issue, totally black in colour unlike the one Robin used. Those were usually edged in red or green, Dick edged his weapons in blue. So, did he wear all black or did they not individualise the standard gear?

,

Bruce kept a close eye on his son, worried. Tim's death had hit everyone hard but Dick… Dick blamed himself, others blamed him too. It had caused a separation between Dick and many of the others, even those who had listened to Dick when he said Tim was lost in grief and just needed time.

Vampires could be good actors, if this one convinced Dick… but Bruce couldn't blame him for hoping. A different universe could mean different rules for the supernatural and he was carrying bat gear…could he still be a version of the boy they'd lost and not a soulless monster wearing his face?

And then there was movement in the cell, the body moving slowly, groggy as he recovered from the forced unconsciousness before rolling off the bed and to his feet, battle ready. Blue eyes met his and went wide, the figure falling back onto the bed.

"B?" his name was a whisper, the sound holding so much grief in it.

He hadn't gone right for the blood as expected and he looked so human…

,

Tim woke groggily, body heavy. What…and then he was moving, dimly remembering something knocking him out, ready for a fight but…the Cave? And then his eyes met darker blue….

"B?" he whispered, choked by grief and hope, even as memory rushed back in. "You're alive."

"Who are you?" Bruce demanded, staring at him with cold eyes, and Tim took a deep breath.

"Tim Drake-Wayne," he answered calmly. He'd noticed the blood bag but he wasn't hungry and feeding in front of them was not something he wanted to do at the moment. "This isn't my universe. You…you were killed when I was nineteen and in a way that meant there was no possibility of revival."

"You're sure?" he asked, and Tim nodded.

"I was there, I saw…" he swallowed. "It was a closed casket funeral for good reason."

,

Bruce stared the creature that wore his son's face. The grief appeared so genuine as he spoke of his Bruce's death. If he had to die, at least it had been in a way that meant no coming back, but he would never want any of his children to witness it. "You're a vampire," he stated.

That got a slow nod, blue eyes regarding him cautiously. And then the blue bled to red, fangs peeking out from under slightly parted lips, but an instant later it was gone, the eyes blue again. That…was different.

"How long?"

"A few hours, maybe a day, after you were killed," he answered. "There was an attack on the Cave, they went right for you. The others got out but…I was wounded, pulled your heartbeat trick so was left for dead. I got out of the Cave but I was losing too much blood, infection setting in fast…they found me again. It…it was bad." He grimaced, a hand pressing briefly to his stomach as if to staunch a wound, the opposite side to the wound that had killed their Tim.

Bruce took a breath, fighting to keep his body as still as possible, not wanting the vampire to be able to read too much. The cell had soundproofing so he wouldn't be able to hear Bruce's heartbeat at least. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know," he shrugged slightly. "The last thing I remember is a fight at the docks and then I woke up on a rooftop downtown. Didn't take long to realise this isn't my Gotham, I found the studio," he shuddered slightly. That would be a shock. "Broke in but didn't leave any damage or evidence. The dates don't match up, I just turned twenty-three."

So, he'd been a vampire for four years now. How many people had he killed in those years? It probably explained the calmness too, they'd only really been faced with the newly turned back then.

"I came here to ask for help getting home. Without knowing how I got here, I have no idea where to start looking for a way back or if…it's possible at all."

"So that you can go back and keep killing?" he demanded and his eyes, Tim's eyes widened in shock. He stood, approaching the door, looking upset.

"What? You think…" he took a deep breath. "I don't kill Bruce, it's the firmest law in Gotham for vampires, no killing. The closest you could get to me killing would be turning someone and I've never done that by force."

,

Bernard was the closest to being turned by force, but that had been because Tim had been controlled by his Sire and Grandsire. And Bernard didn't mind being a vampire at all, he actually enjoyed it which helped Tim deal with the grief.

From Bruce's words and reactions…he got the feeling he was very lucky with the species of vampire that had turned him.

"Being a vampire doesn't make someone a monster," Tim told him. "I spent two weeks starving myself after being turned because I was terrified about hurting someone. But then I went to Bernard's to let him know to get out of Gotham, I was going to wait for sunrise. But he's a meta, he heals fast, so he started feeding me. After that, we ran into Red Hood, he'd made it out alive, got Damian out and sent him to his mom for safety. Then we found Cass and Duke, got out of Gotham and wet to Metropolis for help," he explained.

"They took turns drawing blood for me. After we saved Gotham with help of the Justice League, we used Wayne Enterprises to set up safe feeding places and shelters so the vampires wouldn't need to hunt. So many people were turned in the takeover attempt, there are thousands of vampires in Gotham now and only a handful of deaths, but when we learn about a vampire caused death, we hunt them down and either help them adjust and move to the safe feeding…or we kill them if they're hunting because they like it."

Bruce was at least listening, but would it change anything?

"I'm not a monster," he whispered.

But Bruce just left and Tim sat back on the bed, picking up the blood packet to drink it. When he looked up again, he nearly jumped, not used to being snuck up on anymore, but the cell was sound and scent proofed.

Standing there, was Dick, a hand pressed against the clear door, watching him feed. He stopped and wiped his mouth, licking his teeth to make sure they didn't have blood on them. Tim took a deep breath and stood, approaching the door. From the look on Dick's face, he didn't think it would go like his talk with Bruce. He put his hand against where Dick's was, seeing the grief and hope in his eyes.

"Tim," he whispered.

TBC…