Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was nothing natural about the city. From the air to the people; the constant, lingering darkness clung to everything and everyone. It was as if every form of light was being consumed by the overwhelming power of the darkness.

The water was filthy. Dark and disgusting, filled with all kinds of pollution. The air was thick and muggy; the dark, cloud heavy skies forever unchanging. It was in the passers-by eyes. A permanent darkness clinging to their souls; scowls fixed to their faces and eyes constantly narrowed. The darkness was almost tangible, thicker near alley's and backstreets; consistent in the cities centre. Fear so strong it clung to everything.

Gotham City was the kind of dark that made the blood in his veins freeze and the breath hitch in his throat. The kind of darkness that left people feeling scared within their own homes. Even during the day, light refused to filter through the cloud cover. He had to wonder if the citizens of Gotham even knew what the sun was.

Leaning forward, a breath of air slid past his lips. He wanted to go home, but he was stuck there. Uncle Barry kept telling him that their stay in Gotham was temporary, but it didn't make him feel any better. He didn't belong there. The darkness was suffocating; he was a fan of the light. Hot sunny days and hope. Two things that were impossibly foreign to Gotham.

The city was the crime capital of the world. Not just in the Human World, but the Shadow World too. There were more rogue Downworlders in Gotham than there were in most of the world combined. There were more turf wars; more Shadowhunter murders; more turnings; more broken rules, and more power struggles than in any other part of the world. And that was before anyone even bothered to pay attention to how many Demon attacks occurred per year.

Not only was Gotham the crime capital; it was the Demon capital. A hub for Demonic activity that didn't dwindle; ever.

Tilting his head back, he glared up at the sky. He had been there almost three days. Almost three days of dealing with some of the weirdest Shadowhunters he had ever met. Almost three days of almost constant Demonic attacks. Three days of nothing but dark, heavy, clouds and artificial light.

The clouds didn't budge. Not once. No sunlight. No moonlight. No stars.

Was it ever light in Gotham?

A snort pulled him from his thoughts, and he realised that maybe, just maybe, he had started to think out loud.

“You ever want to introduce the sun to the good people of Gotham, you know where we are.”

Before he could turn to see the man who had interrupted his attempt at alone time, there was someone sitting next to him; legs dangling over the edge of the apartment block. Looking at him, he realised that there was something familiar about him. Paying attention he thought that the young man couldn't be too much younger than himself. Looking at him a little longer, and Wally realised there was a chance he could be a hell of a lot older than him.

Prominent dark circles were under the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. And the young man's face, while tan, was the kind of pale that reminded him of the dead.

Vampire.

“Sorry, the sun blocked my number; something about not wanting to associate with the night.”

Sometimes he wondered if he had a subconscious death wish. He had been warned off associating with Vampires outside meetings. They were volatile, and according to his uncle Barry they had no sense of humour. Not forgetting that almost every encounter he had with a Vampire often resulted in him nearly having his head ripped off for accidentally offending someone.

The rules were supposed to be simple; Shadowhunters and Downworlders don't associate outside of business. But he was an overly friendly guy; and Gotham wasn't exactly known for maintaining rules.

And if the Vampire was just as gorgeous as any of the Fae Folk he had met, he would just tell himself that had nothing to do with making the stupid comment.

A grin slowly spread across the Vampires face and Wally slowly turned to look out across the city. He was expecting to be called in at any moment; and wouldn't that be just his luck.

“You're new.”

Squashing his initial sarcastic quip, he wondered how important the Vampire was. Not just any Vampire would know that he wasn't from around.

“A transfer from Idris?”

“No.” He let out a humourless laugh. Shaking his head, he though fuck it. Why couldn't he have a normal conversation with a Vampire. They were all people, after all. “Central City institute. Apparently there isn't nearly enough Shadowhunters to deal with the sudden influx of Demon activity. That and the Clave wants my Aunt Iris to help crack down on Downworlder activity, but this is Gotham. I'm pretty convinced Shadowhunters are next to obsolete here.”

“Obsolete? That's a pretty big word, you use a lot of those?”

His lips twitched upwards. “Sometimes. Can't throw them around all willy-nilly though, people start developing expectations.” He over-dramatically breathed the last word out, widening his eyes as he looked towards the Vampire.

Despite what people wanted to think about him, he wasn't an idiot. He was a near-certified genius. Not that he would openly brag about it; it was ten times more hilarious to surprise people who thought he was stupid with his intelligence.

“Oh, you don't want that.” There was a smile on the Vampires face, and his bright eyes were burning into Wally. “Don't worry, Shadowhunter, I'll keep your smarts a secret.” Slowly blue eyes dragged off of him to gaze out across the darkness that encompassed the city. “I wouldn't say that the Nephilim here are obsolete. Just mostly unwanted.”

“You know how to make a guy feel special, dude.”

The laugh that filled the air made Wally's lips curve into a smile.

“B's better at keeping the unrest at ease than Kent.” Something about the way he spoke that made Wally pause. “Kent's too nice and diplomatic for Gotham. Drive's B insane. Rogue Downworlder's around here don't respond to second chances and diplomacy well. Manipulative bastards.”

“Kill don't question then?” Wally asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” And the Vampire's lips seemed fixed into a frown. “B doesn't like to kill. We get the rogues to the Clave. Kent throws a hissy fit. Rinse and repeat.”

Snorting, his lips pulled upwards. “I can understand why the Clave hates Gotham. Arresting Downworlders is supposed to be our job.”

“Supposed to be. Though I'm sure B would reluctantly hand that task back over to you Nephilim when you're all able to handle the Downworlders around here correctly.”

“Hmm.” His legs started bouncing off the side of the building, because sitting still for too long was something he had never mastered. Wally West and stealth missions were a truly rare sighting. “I assume the word reluctantly means that he enjoys sending the 'bad guys' to hell.”

“Who doesn't?”

An incessant buzzing came from the Vampire's pocket, and a frustrated sigh slid off his lips. Pulling his phone out, he hid ignore before looking at the screen.

“Bloody hell, honestly. I leave for five minutes.” Pulling himself into a crouch, he turned to face Wally. “Well, as fun as this has been, I have to go stop one brother from staking the other. Honestly, he's just jealous that the damn cat likes Tim's company.” Shaking his head, a smile flitted on to his face. “I'll see you around -” He paused, head tilting to the side slightly.

“Wallace. Wally West.”

“Grayson. Dick Grayson.”

He was gone, and all Wally could think was oh.

Oh.

And the reason the Vampire looked familiar slipped into his mind. Richard 'Dick' Grayson was the eldest, adoptive son of Bruce Wayne. Incredibly rich, incredibly famous, playboy-billionaire, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne.

It took him a moment. Wondering if Grayson being a Vampire meant that Bruce was, but then he thought back over the conversation and;

Oh holy shit.

While he wanted to slam his head repeatedly off a desk screaming 'why do these things happen to me' he decided to settle for a disgruntled groan. Because he would put every penny he owned on being the last person in the entire Shadow World to know that Bruce fucking Wayne was a Vampire. He was more than tempted to put every penny he owned on the man being the head of the Gotham Clan.

Oh God. He just wanted to go home.

“Oh look, baywatch is back.”

“Oh look, blondie has yet to hit a target.”

Artemis' glare would probably do more damage if he hadn't spent three years having the same glare shot his way in Idris. The girl had one hell of a temper, and really, he wasn't in the mood. Not to deal with her mood swings, or Roy's constant 'you'll settle in fine eventually'. Eventually he was going home, to hell with whether Roy liked having him around or not.

The only upside to the Gotham Institute was the fact Hal was there. Hal who wasn't his uncle but as good as. The man had been transferred to Gotham two years prior, and Wally had missed him like hell.

“I think you'll find I hit a bullseye every time, West.”

Wally snorted and turned to look at her; because honestly, he had zero impulse control – at least that was still more than Bart. “No proof, no believe. Everyone knows you're all talk, Crock.”

“Everyone knows your nothing but a bitter asshole, West.”

Well, he couldn't really argue that. “Better than being a bitter bitch.”

“Wow. It's almost like West wasn't gone for the past five hours. You two really know how to live out the definition of 'picking up where we left off' in the worst way possible.” Roy may have been his best friend, but sometimes he just wanted to punch the bastard.

Annoying the hell out of Artemis was one of the few good things he would get out of being in Gotham. His lack of impulse control meant arguments were a given, and with the bitter frustration he felt it was probably somewhat healthy to let off that steam. Uncle Barry was always trying to convince him that letting off a little steam was good for the soul. Decking Artemis sounded like it could be fun. Being decked by Artemis didn't sound fun; so risking an actual fight was never going to happen. Insults and arguments were really all he had.

“Conner wants to see us. Rumours of Slade being out and about have started circulating; which means the rumours about Vandal might be more than just rumours. I don't believe that this can be a coincidence.”

Artemis snorted. “When it comes to Vandal, nothings a coincidence.”

Biting his tongue, Wally resisted the urge to question Artemis. It was the mere tone of her voice that had him remaining silent. That didn't mean his mind wasn't working faster than his feet.

Because no one had seen Vandal in fifteen years. There was no way Artemis Crock could know what was or wasn't a coincidence. And if she did, then what sort of a shit-storm were they really headed for?

Chapter Text

“Grayson!”

Groaning, he opened his eyes. All he had wanted was to sleep. He had hoped that he would have been able to get at least a nap before someone was set off by something.

“If you have a problem with Tim, talk. it. out. No staking. No maiming. Just talk about it. It's not Tim's fault your pet's like him. It's not-”

“It's not about Drake.”

Part of him highly doubted that. The two of them had spent a good two years at each others throats, and after almost a whole year of peace it had started up again. Damian almost always had some form of vendetta against Tim, and Dick wanted nothing to do with any of it. It was at the point that Dick was wondering who they were really trying to convince that they hated each other more; the rest of the family, or each other.

“Honestly, not everything revolves around him.”

Dick raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Your inability to get past two days without an incident would suggest otherwise.”

The younger snorted, jade eyes narrowing.

Damian was the only member of their family who was not a Vampire. No one was all too sure of the details, all they knew was that the kid was biologically Bruce's son – the how's and why's were something Dick wasn't really interested in. Damian had all but been dumped on them at the age of twelve; a small ball of angry frustration and desperate to prove himself. Unfortunately for everyone else, Tim had only just been turned and Bruce was trying to help him adjust. With Bruce dedicating more time to helping a newborn Vampire than the son he hadn't even known about, the war between Damian and Tim started.

Damian had wanted Bruce's attention and while Tim had been willing to step aside so Damian could have his fathers attention, Damian maintained a grudge.

“It's Todd.”

Nope.

Oh no.

All he wanted was to rest. They had just finished dealing with Nigma's rogues; Jason was not a problem he wanted to be dealing with.

“Great, let Bruce handle it.” Rolling into a seated position, he ran his hands down his face.

“Father is busy at the Institute. Kent asked to speak with him. Which means, you're in charge.”

Fuck his life.

“Grab Tim and arm yourself.”

If he was going to be miserable, then he was going to make them miserable too.

“You wish for me to accompany you?” The genuine surprise in the younger boys voice shocked Dick.

Damian's head was cocked to the side, jade eyes burning into him.

They both knew that he shouldn't be risking taking Damian anywhere; especially not with Bruce's strict order. The kid wasn't to leave the Manor; not without Bruce or Alfred accompanying him. But keeping him locked up wasn't healthy. Not when he was so desperate to get out and explore. The longer he was kept on the tight leash, the worse the consequences would become. Dick was surprised Damian hadn't run off.

“Nobody's better with a sword than you are.”

By God how he sometimes wished that wasn't true.

While he probably should have just called Bruce to convince the older man that whatever the Shadowhunters wanted could wait, he didn't. He had been telling Bruce for years that they needed a better relationship with the Gotham Nephilim. Whether Bruce liked it or not, they needed the Nephilim around. To drag him from the meeting would be counter productive.

So instead he found himself running across Gotham city, chasing down the only rogue Vampire they had refused to hand over to the Clave. Whether any of them wanted to admit it or not, they could never just hand Jason over.

“JASON!”

He knew before the name finished leaving his lips that yelling for him was a bad idea. Damian face-palmed, muttering in Arabic under his breath as a flash of black and white hair disappeared off the side of a building.

“Way to go, Grayson. That really had him stopping in his tracks.”

Clenching his jaw, he turned to glare at the younger boy. Despite the fact Damian wore a hood that hid most of his face, Dick could still see his jade eyes narrowing. Honestly, he knew teenagers were supposed to be frustrating, but Damian-

Boy was he glad he wasn't that kid's father.

Taking off after Jason, he almost wished he could feel his heart racing in his chest. The adrenaline in his veins; he missed it almost as much as he missed needing to breathe.

Hopping over a car, he pushed himself. Reminding himself that if they didn't catch Jason, the Shadowhunters might. And if a Shadowhunter caught Jason-

It didn't matter how long he had been a Vampire for, he still expected the burn of muscles that never came. Still sucked in a breath even though he didn't need to. Feeling alive was something he missed with every fibre of his being. Rounding a corner, he skidded to a halt, the barrel of a gun pressing into his forehead.

“I see you brought the little brat with you.”

Jasons head was cocked to the side and Dick could sense Damian bristle on his right.

“Bruce will have your head for that.”

Which was most definitely true. The thought that the Shadowhunters would get anywhere near Damian had fear trickling down Dick's spine. They were all scared of what might happen if the Clave found out about Damian's existence.

Probably take him away. Lock him up.

“What Bruce doesn't know won't hurt him.” Dick replied evenly, slowly raising a hand so he could knock his knuckles against the gun. “There's a good few things he doesn't need to know about.”

No matter what, Jason was family. No matter what it was that Jason went through Dick always made sure to tell the younger man that he was there. He couldn't promise a lack of judgement, but he would never kidnap him, never imprison him, never hold him against his will. The more free Jason felt, the more comfortable he was coming home. That was what mattered; because they were not a clan, they were a family. A dysfunctional, semi-immortal family.

Slowly, the gun lowered. “They deserved it.” The gun was tucked into a holster, and Jason folded his arms across his chest. “They were draining children from some of the orphanages.”

If the blood in Dick's body flowed through his veins, it would have ran cold. Teeth brushing against his bottom lip.

“Who?”

The younger snorted. “Take a wild guess.”

“I thought he was dead.” Tim spoke up, confusion lacing his voice. “I mean, how many times have-” He trailed off, sounding almost guilty. “You killed him. This isn't possible.”

Jason gave a shrug. “He killed me. And wow, would you look at this, I'm still here.”

“Tt- You know you cannot kill anything that is already dead.” Damian sounded almost amused, while at the same time sounding as patronising as ever. “He was destroyed. As to the hows and whys of his still existing, is it possible someone else is pretending to be him?”

Jason glared at the youngest of them and shook his head. “It's him. Definitely, one hundred percent him.”

“Megaaan!”

The door slammed as she looked up from the oven with a smile. Garfield bounced into the kitchen with a grin on his face. Jaime was just behind her younger brother, eyes rolling as he shook his head. Their friendship was an odd one, but she encouraged her brother to befriend anyone and everyone that made him feel okay with being what he was. It had taken far too long to try and get Gar to associate with the other werewolves, it was nice to see that he had at least befriended one of them.

“Guess who we ran into?”

Raising an eyebrow, she dropped her oven mits onto the kitchen island. “Who?”

Gar's grin seemed to widen, and he began to waggle his eyebrows. “Conner!”

“We saw Artemis too-”

“Pssht, Megan doesn't need to know who he was with. All that matters is we ran into him-”

“By running into him, do you mean how you saw him across the street and decided to run over and talk to him.”

Gar's face morphed into a scowl as he turned to glare at his friend. “Dude- Not cool.”

She loved her brother more than words. While a magnet for trouble, all he ever wanted was for the best to happen. There were, however, some things that just were not supposed to be. Her school-girl crush on the tall, brooding Shadowhunter was one of them.

“That's nice.” She offered a half-hearted smile. “I've got some red-velvet cupcakes in the oven. Are you going to be staying for dinner, Jaime?”

“Yeah, yeah, he is- Anyway.” Gar threw himself onto one of the bar stools. “Turns out they're having a few issues. Slade's been seen a few times near the city centre; this came in after reported sightings of Vandal Savage. So they were hunting out a few leads when we ran into them. I asked if they needed any help, and Conner said not at the moment.” The glint in Gar's eyes didn't fade as his hands slammed onto the table top. “But, the most important part was, that he a. Asked me how you were, and I told him you were doing awesome. And b. When we were saying bye, he told me to tell you he was asking for you!”

“There has been sighting of Vandal Savage?” Her blood was running cold, and her fingers itched at her side. “Gar, what else-”

“Sis, the guy you've been crushing on forever asked for you. Bask in that first, then worry about the psychopath. Priority's.”

Jaime snorted and patted Gar on the shoulder. “Yours are skewed, ese. Vandal is a big deal. Selina has been freaking out since the rumours started circulating.” Settling down next to Gar, he looked over to Megan. “I wouldn't worry too much. The Shadowhunters are on it; and Arthur, Bruce, and Selina were called to the Institute earlier for a meeting.”

Her fingers were tapping incessantly against her leg.

Vandal.

Vandal Savage.

He was back.

“Wait. What meeting?”

Jaime shrugged. “Clark wanted to discuss things with them-”

“He wanted to discuss the issue of Vandal with everyone except the High Warlock. Just because I'm technically standing in doesn't mean we shouldn't be left out-”

Gar's eyes softened. “Megan, there's probably a reason for it. I mean, loads of weird shit is going on. Maybe they figured you were busy and decided they'd discuss it with you some other time.”

It wasn't fair. Whatever the excuse was, it was unfair. Shadowhunters came in and out of her life simply to use her magic for help and then disappearing, often trying to skimp out on payments. They didn't treat them fairly, oh they're Warlocks they don't need to be invited to a meeting about Vandal Savage. While it was highly possible she was simply over-reacting, it would not be the first time she had been dismissed by Clark, or the Clave for that matter. It was more than just a little frustrating, and impossibly hurtful.

“You're probably right.”

And Gar probably was. Despite his jokes and often-feigned optimism, her brother had a habit of being right. While he often joked that it was his animal senses, he was a good judge of character and situations. It made her wonder how she had survived so long without him.

He was her half brother. They shared a mother. While her father was a Demon, Gar's father was a normal human. Gar's only connection to the Shadow World had supposed to have just been Megan and their Uncle John (she sometimes wondered what it was with her family and Demons, but decided that was one secret that could stay hidden). When he was five they had been living in Africa, helping out with animal conservation when Gar had wandered off. They had found him in the forest, mauled. It didn't take long for them to discover it had been a Werewolf that had attacked him.

“Probably? Sis, you know I'm always right.”

“Sure you are, hermano.”

The door bell rang, and with a small smile she left her brother and his friend alone.

Slowly opening the door, a frown fixed itself onto her face.

“Hey there, Megs. Mind if we come in?”

Really, she should say yes. Yes she did mind.

Instead, she took in a deep breath and a step back. Pulling the door further open, she gestured to allow the four boys to enter her home. She didn't mind Dick so much, and Tim could be lovely. Jason was far too violent for her taste, and Damian was too aggressive and patronising; not to mention there was something off about the youngest of Wayne's boys.

“What can I do for you?” She asked as the door closed.

It never did well to show that she was nervous around Vampires, but there was something about the presence of the four of them together that scared her.

“What do you know about returning from the dead?” Dick's arms were folded across his chest, worry and curiosity clear as day in his eyes. “And not the Human-Necromancy thing either. As in, how possible is it to bring a Vampire back from say, being staked.”

Involuntarily, her eyes drifted to Jason. As far as everyone had been aware, he had most certainly been destroyed. The fact that he was back suggested that it was possible. Yet no one seemed to know the ins or outs of that situation, only that whatever Jason had been through had thoroughly messed him up. She also highly doubted that they were there to look into a resurrection Jason would have the answers to.

“I've barely studied Necromancy. I haven't even really considered looking into it.” Chewing on her bottom lip, she folded her own arms as she looked down at the ground. “I can look into it for you, my Uncle John has plenty of books on different types of Necromancy.” Because all she ever wanted was to be of help, and at least Dick was nice to her. Sometimes she could almost see herself convincing herself that they were friends. “Can I ask why?”

Damian looked bored, while both Tim and Dick seemed slightly paler than usual. Jason looked nothing short of livid.

“Some bastard that I most definitely killed has been encouraging rogues to drain orphans.”

Her head snapped up as her stomach lurched. It was perhaps one of the few things she appreciated about Jason, he liked to cut to the chase. It made her life easier; even if it slowly shredded the little innocence she had left.

“I- Oh my god.”

He snorted. “I know. Disgusting fucker.”

“Language.” Damian hissed, and the looked that crossed Jasons face almost made her want to laugh.

Nodding, she moved to one of the bookshelves near the back of the room. “I can hunt out what information I can, but I-”

“Hey, no pressure.” Dick's voice was soothing and kind as she pulled a book from the shelf. “This isn't the first time he's come back from the dead. We just want to know how he's doing it.”

She wondered if the unspoken 'so we can make sure he stays dead next time' was only in her imagination. Dick and Tim didn't believe in murder, but she could be tempted to believe Jason and Damian would want to know how to keep a monster dead. While she knew extremely little about Damian, what information she did have implied that while he did not kill, he was not opposed to it. After all, it wasn't the first time Dick had complained about his brothers attempts on Tim's life.

“Who's come back from the dead?” Gar's hands were stuffed into his hoodie pockets as he looked at the Wayne boys cautiously.

“Joe Kerr.” Tim said slowly, his expression tight.

Megan's eyes flickered to Jason, understanding flooding through her. Even the cities civilians knew to be terrified of the monster that was Joe Kerr. She had yet to meet someone who had not hear of at least one of the psychopath's exploits.

Fear tugged at her heart as she ran her fingers down the spine of her book. “Maybe he's possessed.” The words slid past her lips without her thinking about what she was saying. “Or maybe he is a Greater Demon posing as a Vampire.”

“What?”

Dick and Damian were staring at her as if she had said something life changing. But really, when she thought on the matter a little longer, she wondered why no one else had thought of it first.

“It was just a thought.” She said quietly.

“He can't be.” Gar cut in. “It's a great theory, but the Shadowhunters in Gotham are Demon specialists. They would be able to tell if a Greater Demon was posing as a Vampire.”

“Maybe-” Tim tapped a finger against his chin. “It's a theory worth holding onto. What do you think, Jay?”

Jason's gaze was locked on Megan, as if he was only just seeing her. “I think specialist is just a word. We need to keep our options open.” His eyes drifted to Dick. “Either Morse is spot on and this is Demon work – be it possession or a Greater Demon; or this is high level necromancy. Either way it needs to be dealt with.”

“What about Raven?” Jaime had slipped into the room behind Gar and was looking at him carefully. “Isn't necr-”

Gar was glaring at him. “Dude. No.”

“Who's Raven?” Dick was looking towards Gar, voicing the question lingering at the tip of Megan's tongue.

“No one.” Gar responded almost a little too defensively. “She's not a part of this. You want necromancy, let Megan handle it.”

Chapter Text

It was not long after lunch that he found himself storming towards the front doors of the Institute. Ignoring Roy's baffled 'What the fuck got his panties in a twist' as energy surged through each and every one of his cells.

He needed air. Needed to breathe somewhere that didn't make him feel as though he was being buried alive. But more importantly, he needed to move. Needed to feel each and every cell in his body stretch. To expel the energy that was building each and every millisecond, and training was no longer cutting it.

Gotham wasn't what he wanted. It was depressing; like something a person would see in a post-apocalyptic movie. It was a dystopian world co-existing alongside the real world. A horrific nightmare come to life. And he hated it. Hate the restrictions that came with being forced into living there. Not that he had complained much.

Wally had done enough of that for the both of them.

But Wally wasn't 'a kid'. Wally got to regularly go on missions. Wally got to regularly stretch his legs. Wally got to attend meetings and know what the hell was going on. All he got were snippets. Overheard whispers about Vandal and Slade, even mentions of Ra's and Zoom-

The mere thought of the latter had shudders running up Bart's spine. Because even if Vandal hadn't been seen in fifteen years, the others had been. Members of the light had cropped up every so often, destroying lives before disappearing again. And Zoom- god, he could kill Zoom. It didn't matter how illegal it was; he had never wanted to harm someone the way he wanted to harm Zoom.

Jogging as slowly as he possibly could without looking weird, he tried to take his mind off of the monsters that were rumoured to be gathering in Gotham.

It wasn't often he got to be alone with his thoughts. Either he was training, on a mission, more training, eating, or asleep. And most of that involved the presence of others.

He actually enjoyed taking time to himself. Enjoyed reading, or just being in the world for a moment. Jogging in the city allowed him to just exist. Another person passing the world by.

Eventually he came across a Starbucks and decided to take a break from his quote-in-quote jogging.

Walking up to the counter, he smiled at the girl stood behind the cash register. The first thing to flit through his mind was to question whether her hair was naturally white or not. There was a hint of silver in her blue eyes, and a part of him wondered why the emotion that flickered through them looked so much like recognition. He was absolutely certain that if he had seen her before, he would most definitely remember her.

“You know, most people don't go jogging in jeans and a shirt.”

Shrugging, he quickly looked up to the menu boards before looking back at the girl – Rose, her name tag said.

“I had already left home before I decided to jog. Had to work with what I've got. Could I get a venti hot chocolate, whipped cream and the works to sit in, please.” Glancing at the food, he felt his stomach growl. “Ooh!” His eyes widened and he felt a grin stretch across his face. “I'll take two cinnamon buns as well please.”

A perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose as she grabbed a marker. “Should I tell your teacher you're skipping school.” Her lips had pulled into a smirk, and he almost felt offended.

Almost.

“I don't go to school anymore.” Cocking his head to the side, he watched as she put the order through the till. “You don't exactly look like you're old enough to have left school.” Not that he knew all that much about mundane schooling.

With a snort, she slid the plate with the two cinnamon buns across the counter towards him. “You wouldn't catch me dead anywhere near one of those hell holes. That'll be nine fifty.”

Handing over ten dollars he nodded. “Sitting around all day sucks, but some of the teachers could be wicked cool. That and-” Someone appeared behind him in the queue and when he glanced to the side he felt his face fall.

“Wally said I would find you here.” There was a smile on her tan face, blue eyes wide and somehow happy. “I need to talk to you.”

“Here's your change, freckles.”

Looking back up at Rose he smiled, thanked her and moved to the end of the bar to collect his drink.

After collecting his drink and setting himself down at a table by one of the windows, he was joined by Cassie. He had known her all of five days, and while she was fast en-route to becoming one of his best friends, he wasn't in the mood. Frustrated bitterness was still clinging to his cells, not to mention he had been content talking to the barista.

“She's pretty for a mundane.” Cassie all but whispered the last word and yet still managed to strictly emphasise the word and it's importance.

Shrugging, he took a drink of his hot chocolate. “I didn't notice.” Moving to pull at the cinnamon bun, he met Cassie's eyes. “So what's up? Roy steal Artemis' bow again? Cause I've gotta ask, does he do that this often all the time? It's already getting old and I've been here like five days. I can't imagine how the rest of you cope because if I have to deal with it much more I'm just gonna buy her that new bow th-”

“Nah, this is just a thing that happens every couple of months. Artemis will say something that will drive Roy nuts, so he'll spend a week or two stealing her bow and hiding it. Then Clark will get involved and it will be over until the next time.”

Stuffing his mouth with bun, he nodded slowly as he chewed. 'Hmming' through the food. “What set him off this time?”

“Artemis keeps implying that he has a crush on Jade Nguyen.” Glancing around the coffee shop Cassie leaned forward, a grin plastered to her face. “He totally does though. It's so obvious, and totally hilarious cause she's- Well, there's a reason she isn't supposed to leave Idris you know?”

“We should set them up.” He decided. “How crash would that be? Roy would stop acting so repressed, and Artemis could sing 'I told you so' to the world like we know she wants to.”

For a moment, Cassie looked like someone had told her Christmas had come early. “Okay, yes. Yes. Project Rade – Or Joy? Definitely Joy. Project Joy is now totally a thing. We can work on that in between preparing for whatever war everyone is convinced is coming. And speaking of war, guess what I heard?”

“The Vamp's are secretly plotting to destroy us all and take their rightful place as Kings of Gotham?”

“No.” And then Cassie's face grew more serious. “The League has made some kind of deal with the Court and they've returned to the city.”

He might have only been in Gotham for five days, but he was anything but an idiot. Not only did his brain work far faster than the average Shadowhunters, he had an eidetic memory. Everything he had heard or seen on the news; every rumour; every image. It was seared into his mind.

For a moment, his heart felt as if it was beating at a normal rate. The League was a group of highly trained, impossibly skilled Nephilim who cut themselves off from the Clave and went into hiding. No one heard from them unless they wanted to be seen or heard. The Court was a mix of Nephilim and Downworlders who were against everything the Clave stood for. However last he had heard the Court were one hundred percent against the Light, so-

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“Right?” Cassie pulled her phone from her pocket. “I asked a friend of mine if he knew anything about the deal, 'cause he's been lowkey looking into the Court- He said he didn't know anything about the League other than the fact he's convinced he saw Ra's in Whole Foods yesterday. But what he does know is that the Court are scouting again. Which is kinda terrifying when you think about it.”

“Scouting?”

“For an operative. They're looking for a new 'Talon'.” She made inverted commas with her fingers, a look of disgust on her face. “I mean, half of me doesn't want to care because B's Clan usually deals with that shit, but the other half of me knows that it's different this time around. I mean, come on, Slade fucking Wilson has reappeared, do you know how terrifying that is? He tried to kill Conner and Kara when they were kids. And he was weirdly obsessed with Grayson for like, ages.”

Most people seemed to find Cassie's gossiping frustrating, but Bart loved it. Because while most people though gossiping was useless, Cassie knew how to use senseless talking to gather information. She would gather bits and pieces and piece together the facts and then she passed it on. Or at least, she had started passing it on to Bart. Who took what she told him and tried to figure out what she might be missing.

Maybe it was wrong of Cassie to 'accidentally' eavesdrop on top secret enclave meetings, but it meant that the two of them weren't as in the dark as they would be otherwise. He liked being included in something; even if that something could end up having his ass suspended from active duty in a heartbeat.

At least the rest of the Institute, and anyone who passed them by, just thought they were gossiping kids. As frustrating as the stereotype was, it gave them space. Meant that maybe, just maybe, they could start up their own investigations.

“I think most of the bad guys need hella intensive therapy sessions.” Cocking his head to the side, a dry laugh slid past his lips. “So long as the therapists are tested first. We don't need another Harleen.”

Cassie nodded, taking a sip from her drink. “I could do it. I'd love to get into, like, Ra's head for like two minutes. He's terrifying, but I just want to know why they think the way they do.”

“What makes the villains tick, with Cassandra Sandsmark.”

Leaning back against the wall, his fingers drummed against the concrete ground. Staking out wasn't exactly his thing, but someone had to do it. Someone had to figure out what was really going on. Everything being hearsay was frustrating. News told him one thing; pack members told him another; Selina twisted her words to make it would like it was nothing; Cassie was never told anything; Kori couldn't tell him anything because she was missing; Raven needed every ounce of protection she could get; and Vic-

Closing his eyes he let the hatred for the world burn in his chest. Everything sucked.

He felt like he was being pulled in fifty different directions. Whispers of war were everywhere, but no one knew exactly what was happening. The Nephilim didn't know nearly as much as anyone pretended they did, because this was Gotham.

Gotham didn't want the Shadowhunters there, and with no one cooperating they were weak. And he wanted to blame everyone. At least Megan tried to get along with everyone; but the Shadowhunters abused how nice she was. Bruce kept everyone a mile away, distancing himself from everyone and everything; pushing to get the Nephilim to leave the city. Selina kept more information to herself than she shared with the pack. After Kori, the Fae Folk seemed to remove themselves from contacting anyone.

Sometimes he felt so utterly alone; because he wanted this solved before the war really broke out. Maybe he was just more invested than everyone else. It wasn't the first time someone he cared about was entangled with the man's plans for the world. Just this time, he was going to save them. Even if it meant losing himself in the process.

He wouldn't lose anyone else to the psychopath.

“Hasn't your sister ever told you that you shouldn't be out so late by yourself?”

The familiar voice hit his ears, and his eyes flew open. A grin spread across his face as he met the warm, chocolate brown eyes of his best friend.

“Dude, hasn't anyone ever told you that you're terrible at sneaking up on people?”

It was far from the truth; despite how large Vic was, he could be stealthy when he wanted to be. Much to Gar's chagrin. Despite how sensitive all his senses were, he couldn't always pick up on his best friends approach. There were very few people in the world who could sneak up on him. Although Vic had only joined that short list over the past few months.

Apparently his training was paying off.

“I'm not kidding, dude. You're sat in a fucking alley way, at two o'clock in the morning on a Friday night. What the hell are you thinking?”

“That the only people likely to attack me are the Joker's gang, and last time I checked, dude, I can out run those guys.”

Vic dropped down to sit opposite him. “He's still alive.” Shaking his head, a scoff slid past his lips. “Which makes no sense what so ever.”

“I know, dude. Grayson, Todd, Drake, and Wayne showed up at Meg's because they can't figure out how he's doing it.”

“You'd think Todd would have some kind of a clue.”

Gar shrugged, staring out of the alley towards the street. “I don't know, dude. Sometimes I think he was never actually killed. Because if he was, Meg's wouldn't be needed.”

“I'm surprised Grayson went to your sister and not Zatanna.” Vic stated, his tone thoughtful. “Isn't she usually his first choice?”

Nodding, he mulled it over. Most people went to Zatanna rather than Megan, and it frustrated him. Just because his sister wasn't the greatest Warlock in the world didn't mean she wasn't good at her job. If people gave her a chance she could be one of the best in the world. As far as he was concerned though, she was the best in the world. After all, she had single handedly taken out Simon and sent him straight to the Clave. Something no other Warlock had successfully accomplished.

But she could be shy. Always eager to please, and maybe some people found that off putting. Or maybe they felt like going to her was taking advantage of her kindness. She always put missions before herself.

Or maybe it was the fact Zatanna was trained by the greatest Warlock to ever live.

“Zatanna's magic is different. She has a set focus with her magics, Megan works with everything.”

“Including necromancy?”

“Initially excluding necromancy. She's started studying it now. As the technical High Warlock of Gotham, she should have a rough grasp of everything.”

Vic cocked his head to the side. “I take it you avoided mentioning Rae.”

Narrowing his eyes, he turned to meet Vic's gaze. “Jaime mentioned her, I cut him off. I've warned her that her name was mentioned to the Wayne Clan in the context of Warlock. Just gotta hope they don't go investigating.”

“I'm sure she'll be fine. If anyone knows how to protect themselves, it's her.”

“I just don't want her being dragged into a world she doesn't want involved in.”

“And yet you've happily forced yourself into her life.”

Despite it being a teasing-joke, the words sliced through him like a butter knife. “I'm in her life as Garfield Logan, veterinary receptionist. Not Gar, werewolf. She needed a friend, and that's what I am.”

“We should try all meeting up for coffee some day. I'll find a way to contact you and you can drag Rae along. I miss hearing you two do nothing but bicker.”

“How's it going?”

Vic looked at the ground, shaking his head. “Well, we're setting up near Gotham. So I'll be a hell of a lot closer. Training is intense as hell, dude. You're lucky I can manage these monthly meet ups. And I'm still barely scraping level two.”

“Cassie said there's rumours the League and the Court have made some kind of deal.”

Nodding, a humourless laugh slid past his lips. “It's fucking crazy man. I first heard about the deal a fortnight ago.” A mix of horror and worry settled in his eyes. “Apparently the prophecy is more commonly known than we thought. Ra's, the Court, Vandal- They want to see it come to pass. They believe that by enacting the prophecy they will be the chosen ones. That they will be leading the world to a new era under their control.”

“What, so the Light are cultists now?”

“Basically. We don't get to join up until we're level five, so I'm just working off of hearsay.”

“It's been enough so far. So long as we can find Kori and stop the war, we're good. Slade isn't getting away with his shit. Not this time.”

A dark grin stretched across Vic's face. “We're gonna get that son of a bitch. We're gonna stop the light. We're going to tear the League apart. We're going to prove to the Clave that segregation is stupid; that Nephilim and Downworlder's can work together without incident.”

“We're going to change the world, dude.”

“Or die trying.”

The blade sliced through the Demon and it burst into flames before turning to a pile of ash on the floor.

His chest was heaving, and he wanted to scream at everyone who thought it was a good idea that just Artemis and he should go on the mission. All he had done for two hours was kill Demons. Two whole hours. While he appreciated getting to expel his built up energy, it was still tedious over kill.

“This could have been finished forty five minutes ago if Roy and Conner had been with us.” He hissed, pulling his stele out of his boot so he could draw an iratze onto his torso.

Looking over to Artemis, he saw her drawing her own iratze onto her upper arm. “Broody and broodier apparently had more important meetings to attend to.”

“Bart and Cassie could have come.”

Because there was no arguing that statement. There was no reason for the two youngest members of the Institute to have not joined them.

“They've been begging to do something all day.”

Artemis' lips twitched as she drew a second iratze on her own torso. “It was why the kid took off earlier, wasn't it? He's bored.”

Not quite. He thought to himself, thinking on how he had felt Bart's frustration at their situation.

“He's used to getting to go on missions.”

While the statement wasn't one hundred percent true, uncle Barry had stressed the need to keep the truth one hundred percent under wraps. They were in Gotham. An unpredictable, and ridiculously dangerous city. While they didn't have to hide anything in Central, there was no telling as to what could happen if the truth got out in Gotham.

At that point, he was one hundred and one percent certain that Hal was the only person in Gotham that knew. Not even Roy knew, and that was saying something.

Coughing, Artemis shook her head wryly. “He should be allowed to come with us. He's not quite up to standard, but he needs to get his feet wet. The more someone gets out and about, the faster they learn.”

“He's better than he lets on.” He stated quietly. “I just don't think he's all that good with dealing with new people.”

He could still remember Bart's return to the Central Institute. For months he had been a mix of different characters; as though he was testing out which personality people reacted best to. He could remember sitting his cousin down, and telling him to be whoever he wanted to be. It didn't matter what anyone else though of him; being who made himself happy was what was important.

Since then, Wally had become Bart's number one confidant. He still didn't know whether that was a good thing or not.

“I'm sure he'll settle in just fine, baywatch. He and Cass are sure on route to become the worlds best gossips.”

Part of him was pretty sure the two kids were fast one route to becoming the worlds greatest spies. Bart had mentioned on more than one occasion about how left out he felt. Everyone else was getting the down low on what was happening in the Downworld while those two were left out of the meetings.

“Come on, Crock. We should be heading back. I don't know about you, but I could sleep for a month.”

When they left the warehouse, he decided he could probably sleep for longer than a month. But he always rested pretty quickly. Everything about him was faster than almost everyone else. He healed faster. Rested faster. Ate faster. Thought faster. It was as fun as it was frustrating. Because sometimes he wanted to sleep for hours and hours at a time, but he would be awake before almost everyone else.

Artemis coughed again, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. He didn't mention it; last time he had mentioned that he thought she might be coming down with something, she almost decked him. Artemis and colds were not friends. Giving her a once over, he internally frowned. She was a little paler than usual, and her skin was almost starting to look clammy.

Don't mention it. He internally hissed. She'll deck you.

“My dad's in town.”

And okay, what?

Momentarily freezing, he pushed himself to continue on as if her saying that wasn't a big deal.

“A-are you okay? With that? I mean-”

She shot him a look and he instantly clamped his mouth shut. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. They weren't friends. They weren't enemies. They weren't each others romantic interest. They lived on a line that was some weird combination of fighting, flirting, keeping each others secrets, and pretending not to care about each others well being.

But they did care; because they weren't friends. They weren't. But they had a strong friendship. They fought impossibly well together; knew each others style despite not having fought with one another since they were both students in Idris. They insulted each other, but defended on another whenever any other asshole decided to try and insult the other.

It was the way they had been since the day they had met, and maybe, just maybe, he should have listened to Dinah when she said they would have made good parabati.

“Not really.” She replied, pushing forwards. “I hate him.”

“I know. I hate him for you too.”

“He's rejoined the Light.”

And that was it, his opportunity to start just a little bit of digging.

“How do you know that?”

Stopping in the middle of the street, she folded her arms and glared at the cracked pavement beneath their feet. He turned to face her, burying his hands into his trouser pockets.

“He appeared during one of my missions last week. Tried to recruit me. Said the Light are preparing for something new. Something big. Told me I'd be spared if I joined them. That he wanted me to join them. I was stupid enough for a split second to think that he wanted me to join because he cared about me. He said losing such a skilled warrior would be a terrible loss.”

“Arty-”

“I know. I know he's a bad guy, that he's a monster. That he's going to end up dead. I know I would sentence him to that death if I had to. But still, every time he tells me he wants me to join, I can't help but want that fatherly recognition. It sucks.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it really does.” Because even if he never spoke about his own dad, it didn't mean he couldn't relate. “I get it, Arty. We all want our parents to love us, but we don't need it. You've got Olly, and even if he is a bit- Odd, he loves you like you were his own. That's a real dad. Someone who takes you in, loves you unconditionally, and is proud of everything that you are. Lawrence can go fuck himself.”

Her lips curved into a smile that reached her eyes, and in that moment she looked younger than he had ever seen her. “I'm glad you're around again, even if you hate it here. But if you tell anyone I said that, I'll rip your tongue out.”

Chapter Text

The cold hadn't bothered him in years, yet he had never broken the habit of wrapping himself in blankets as he curled up on the couch. His tablet rested on the arm of the couch, and Pennyworth was curled up on his lap. One of his hands tangled in the cat's dark fur, the other scrolling through the city's security footage.

Sometimes, he had to worry about his mentors sanity. The man took being a creature of the night to a whole new level, and a part of him wondered if the rest of them were slowly starting to follow in his footsteps. Going out and going up against rogue Downworlders was not their job. If anything, it meant that they too were going rogue.

He may not have been part of the Shadow World for too long, but he had studied each and every law thoroughly. While he understood where Bruce was coming from – while he wanted to follow in his footsteps and help clean the scum from the streets of Gotham – he liked being alive. Well, as alive as a Vampire could be. He would rather not deal with the Clave; if the hearsay was anything to go by, they were not the nicest people in the world when it came to Downworlders.

“There you are!” Steph appeared in front of him, arms folded and a blonde brow raised. “What are you doing?” She asked in a sing-song voice, lips twitching in a way that implied she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Just looking through the city.”

Leaning over slightly, she stared down at the tablet. The screens flickered, the occasional Demon rushing through the streets, some Werewolves leaving their favourite pub, mundanes walking quickly with their heads down – no doubt hurrying home after a night shift.

“You know he won't show up.”

Pursing his lips he looked at Steph, raising an eyebrow of his own. “After three and a half years I think I've got that.”

Her lips twitched upwards as she shook her head. “He does what he wants red. You can't stare at screens all day and hope he'll come home.”

Keeping his mouth shut, he simply stared back at the screen. It was easier to pretend he was simply trying to keep a watch out for their missing family member. Not help him try and track down a psychopath who had come back from the dead, again.

Because while he didn't want the Clave to arrest him, he wanted to solve this case. Wanted to help Jason get the answers he needed. Even if the two of them didn't always get along, he was more than willing to help solve Jason's murder. At the end of the day – whether Jason said it or not – that was what was at the core of the mission. Jason had never discussed what had happened the day he had been killed, nor had he ever talked about how he came back. Tim had suspected that maybe he hadn't really died – but there was no evidence for anything.

The first case Tim had ever worked on was the Murder of Jason Todd. Something he had closed a matter of days after he was turned; thinking it had been solved. A case he had reopened when Jason reappeared a year and a half later, then deemed cold a further six months later.

With Joe Kerr having survived Jason's revenge, a whole new set of doors had opened. Jason was more invested than ever in stopping the psychopath; asking Tim to reopen his first ever case. 'Everything is interconnected. Solve one case, and you'll solve them all.'

Living a normal life was all but out of the question, but that didn't mean that he couldn't play detective every so often.

“Cass and I are going to play rooftop tag, you want join us or are you going to keep playing babysitter?”

“We should get the whole family to play one night. Just all rush Bruce at once, scream tag and run.”

A grin split across her face. “You mean a repeat of the time you, Dick, and I got him to play?”

“But full scale.” He nodded, running a hand down Pennyworths back. “We could easily convince Dick, Bab's, and Cass. We might need to bribe Kate. We would definitely have to bargain with Damian. We would need to make a deal that whoever was tagged second would tag Jay, just to get him to play.”

“B wouldn't like Damian playing.” Steph said thoughtfully. “I might be able to convince Jay to play without force-tagging him.”

“Yeah, it would probably be better if you convinced him, as opposed to us forcing him.” Nodding he cocked his head to the side. “And that's why we rush Bruce. When he realises Damian's playing he'll feel obligated to join in to keep an eye on him.” Tapping his chin thoughtfully, his lips pulled downwards. “Has the brat even ever played?”

“I don't think so. Unless running across rooftops to hunt down rogue's counts?”

“No, it definitely doesn't.”

“I assume you're not coming.” She took a step back, looking up over the back of his head.

“Nope. I've got babysitting to do.”

“Your loss, red.” A grin slowly cracked across her face; then she was leaping over the couch and racing after a blur he could only imagine to be Cass.

Resting his hand on Pennyworths head, he scratched by the cat's ears softly. The animal moved into the motion and a smile twitched at Tim's lips. It was rare that the cat was in his company for long, especially since his owner was Damian. And Damian hated the thought of Tim touching anything that belonged to him. Yet Pennyworth didn't seem to mind Tim in the slightest, and while he had never admitted it out loud, he rather enjoyed the cat's company.

With it being two thirty am Damian was more than likely asleep, and most definitely not looking for the cat that was an ungrateful traitor.

The buzz of a phone sliced through the settling silence, indicating that Tim had a text.

No sign of him?

Picking up he phone he thumbed out a response. Sorry. I'm still keeping an eye out though.

He didn't get a response to that, not that he expected one. Jason was on a mission, and he would get the answers he needed one way or another. Picking up the tablet, he minimised the security footage and pulled up his old case notes. Scribbled carelessly by a teenager who didn't understand how over-his-head he was getting.

Circled repeatedly in red was the words that he had never been able to make sense of.

Todd's body was recovered by officials

He had seen what happened to a Vampire when they were killed. The way their body crumbled and burned before turning to dust.

How had Jason's body survived?

The knock was one that was thoroughly unfamiliar to her. Loud and demanding. On the third pound, she began unlocking the door. Hands shaking slightly, she had no idea who could possibly be at her door at three twenty seven in the morning. Exhaustion was settling into her bones, and when she finally got the door open her blood ran cold.

“Morse.”

The green tinted, blazing blue eyes were locked onto her. A slight desperation and a hunger that she most definitely didn't associate with feeding burned through her.

Except some incredibly small part of her felt accepted. Not because he was stood at her front door rather than any other Warlocks. But because he had called her Morse again. The same way he called his clan members by their surnames. Usually he referred to her a Warlock. To be referred to by name meant she had to be of some importance. Worth something enough to be mentioned by name.

“Jason.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Whatever can I do for you, at three thirty a.m.”

A slight smirk tugged at his lips. “I didn't interrupt your beauty sleep did I? It's easy to forget that the living aren't always awake.” There was something bitter lingering in his voice, something that made her sad just hearing it.

“Not at all. Some of us are up all night studying necromancy.” Stepping back from the door, she held out an arm. “Would you like to come in?”

“That's why I'm here.” Stepping over the threshold his eyes scanned the room thrice before he walked towards her couch.

Closing the door behind him she adjusted her dressing gown, a reminder that he had in fact disturbed her beauty sleep.

“Where's the Lycanthrope?”

“Garfield? He's asleep, why?”

A dark eyebrow rose, a look of something akin to disbelief flickered across his face. “Ah. He snuck out.”

Confusion settled in her chest, a frown forming of her face. “What? Garfie-”

“Something tells me the kid does it a lot. Probably visiting that top secret girlfriend of his.”

The thought of Garfield sneaking out didn't sit well with her. Not when Vandal Savage was rumoured to be making a home for himself in Gotham; not when the League were parking themselves on the city's doorstep. She had thought her brother knew better than to leave without telling her, if anything happened to him and she had no idea where he was-

“Have you heard from the Institute?” His hands were clasped dangling between his knees, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leaned forward. “I hear the heads of all our factions have been getting called in to ensure peace.”

“I haven't heard from them.” She admitted, her voice barely a whisper. It still hurt to think that everyone else was being involved with what was coming and she wasn't.

“Not even a call from your Shadowhunter boyfriend?” The blood rushed up to her cheeks, and before she could question what made him suggest such a thing he started talking again. “It's pretty obvious. Although it's more painfully obvious that he hasn't been around recently; his sent has almost completely faded. If it helps, I don't know what the fuck is going on either. But then, I have my own shit to deal with. Psychopaths coming back from the dead and all.”

Any fear she had of being alone in her flat with Jason Todd slowly dissipated, and she moved to sit on the arm chair to his left. Unstable and dangerous? That he most certainly was. A cold blooded killer? She became less sure with each interaction she had with him.

Perhaps the Clave just needed someone to pin the unsolved crimes on. A resurrected, unstable Vampire was a perfect scape-goat.

“Psychopath.” She corrected. “Singular, unless some other monster has been resurrected recently.”

Leaning back slightly his gaze grew more intense once again; looking at her as if she was a puzzle he was struggling to solve. His jaw twitched for a moment before he settled on slowly saying “There's just the two of us.”

Psychopaths. Plural. She thought to herself. Does he view himself on a similar level to the 'Joker'.

“You're not a psychopath.” She said, sounding more sure than she felt. “Angry, maybe unstable...” Definitely unstable. “But not a psychopath. I don't think for a second that you are actually insane; just incredibly traumatised. And that's- that's okay.”

If someone told her a week ago that she would be sat in her dressing gown at three thirty in the morning, alone in her apartment with Jason Todd, telling him that being traumatised was perfectly okay, she would have laughed herself stupid. But there she was, tucking a strand of gingery red hair behind her ear, looking at him as earnestly as she possibly could. Hoping beyond hope he believed her. Because the only thing 'insane' about him was that he serious PTSD. Anyone in his position would be traumatised.

He wasn't handling it well. He let it dictate his life, but in that moment she couldn't find it within herself to blame him. That would be implying she would handle such a thing better than he was, and she couldn't know for sure that she would. She couldn't possibly know how she would react to being murdered and brought back. How she would react to her murderer still running around free. She could scarcely imagine what killing the monster that murdered her would be like; and then on top of that, having said murderer return from the dead.

Trauma seemed like such a weak word for such a convoluted situation.

“Are you psychoanalysing me?” There was a hint of a snarl, but for once she didn't feel scared.

“No. I'm just saying that if the only people who have been resurrected are you and him, then there's only one psychopath come back from the dead. And it's not you.”

Pressing his lips together for a moment, he nodded. “How much do your services cost?”

Blinking, she opened her mouth and felt it close again. Her heart stuttered as she stared at the Vampire in front of her. “Ex-excuse me?”

“If I want your help with something, what is the cost likely to be? Price ranges, last time I checked Warlock's don't tend to work for free. You failed to mention how much it's going to cost Grayson to pay for your necromancy help, and I want to know how much it's going to cost me if I employ your help for something that involves you leaving your cosy little hollow. So do I pay by the hour or what?”

The backs of her eyes stung as emotion built up in her chest. Overwhelmed by the fact someone had asked without presumption. Someone had come to her for help, and asked what the price for that help would be before proceeding. Almost every other transaction she had, the customer had always asked about the price after she had helped them.

“Well um..” Swallowing, she wrung her hands together. “It depends on what it is you're wanting me to do. If it's a spell I charge by the simplicity; the more energy and time it takes the more expensive it is. For the necromancy research I won't charge much, it's simply information-”

“If I was asking for spells, tracking, locating, teleporting, possibly looking into someone's mind, field trips, and absolute discretion. And all for an unknown period of time.”

Her jaw did drop that time. “I- I could-” It was as if her mind had short circuited. Never before had anyone wanted more than one or two of her services at a time. “I could- I can charge you at a set daily rate. But before I agree to anything, why exactly would you need my assistance?”

“I need help solving a case.”

“I assume it's not Joe Kerr's resurrection.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mouth felt impossibly dry at the thought that he could hear her body reacting to the suspense. Each fluctuation in her pulse would be registered and catalogued.

“My murder and resurrection.”

“I thought the police had closed the case, and Bruce declared it cold?”

Jason nodded, sitting back and dropping one arm across the back of her couch. “After we left here the other day, I asked Tim to locate his version of the case and reopen it. Whether he's a Greater Demon, A possessed Vampire, or just a class A psychopathic Vampire, we need to stop him. If we can't figure out how he's done this, again, then would it not make more sense to reopen my case? If we can work out what happened to me, then we can work out what's happening to him.”

It was the one thing she learned that night that had truly surprised her. While unsaid, it screamed out at her like blaring headlights. If Jason Todd was secretly reopening his case, then it meant he didn't truly know or understand what had happened to him. But more importantly, he didn't want anyone knowing that.

“Four hundred and fifty for every day I help.” She said slowly.

It was cheap. Dirty cheap considering she could be putting her life on the line if she accompanied him to any set location. But he was being surprisingly upfront and honest. He had asked her for a price before asking for her help.

The look on his face told her he knew it was cheap.

“You sure?”

A smile tugged at her lips. “You asked nicely. Don't tell your friends, they'll expect the same treatment.”

“Don't worry about it.” He snorted out. “I don't have friends.”

She wanted to say that such a statement was untrue, but the man spent more time hunting down rogues and killing them than he did around people. It made her wonder how often he really spent in relatively civilised company.

Shaking her head, she ignored every red flag and softly said “You sound like Bruce.”

His eyes narrowed and for a moment she thought he was actually going to snarl. Instead, he stood up and rolled his shoulders. “Hasn't anyone told you not to insult your clientele?”

Shrugging, she let out a fake sigh. “Don't be too nice to your clientele. Don't be hard on your clientele. Don't under-charge your clientele. Don't over charge your clientele. Don't play favourites with your clientele. Always deal with the client who offers the most money first.” Leaning back in her seat she raised an eyebrow. “I don't really listen to any of the do's and don't's anymore. When do we start?”

“How soon can you be ready?”

“Down you get Pennyworth.”

Despite preparing to stand up, the cat was still firmly curled on his lap. Lime green eyes were staring up at him, almost daring him to actually stand. Had the cat belonged to anyone else he simply would have physically moved Pennyworth. However, unfortunately for him, Pennyworth belonged to Damian. And Tim knew his own luck.

The moment he bad mouthed, or attempted to physically move the cat, Damian would appear. The past few months he had been walking on a fine enough line when it came to Bruce's son, if he could avoid a single argument or full blown fight he would. It was exhausting trying to match Damian's fire when there was a million other things that needed to be done. It was exhausting reigniting a feud he had thought to be done.

“Come on Pennyworth, work with me here. Please?”

He ever so gently tapped the cat's lower back. In response Pennyworth simply tilted his head.

Tim wanted to scream.

There would never be any doubting who the damn cat belonged to. He was just like his owner. Stubborn, frustrating, and constantly demanding someones attention. Unfortunately for Tim, he was that someone. Any time he wanted to actually get something done, one of the two of them would get in his way.

“Tt.”

If Tim's heart still beat it would likely have stilled.

Don't start an argument. He began chanting the mantra silently. Don't start an argument. Don't start an argument. Please don't start an argument.

“Coffee, Drake, really? Can your undead physiology even handle such a substance?”

Damian was staring at the mug in Tim's hand. What was left of the liquid had long gone cold, but the aroma had most certainly stuck around.

“I wouldn't drink it if my biology couldn't handle it.” He said slowly, forcing himself to cut off before he could add the 'I'm not an idiot'.

“It cannot possibly be of any use to you.”

“It isn't. That doesn't mean I can't drink it.”

Damian pressed his lips together tightly, the skin turning almost white. His gaze moved to Pennyworth, and he let out a slow breath. “Honestly, Pennyworth, we have discussed this.” He folded his arms across his chest an expression, that Tim was almost convinced was a mix between disappointment and fond, flickered across his face. “Multiple times I might add. Yet here you are, once again.”

Taking in an unnecessary breath he looked down to meet Pennyworth's eyes. “You heard him, you're not supposed to associate with me.”

Pennyworth pawed at Tim's stomach before turning and leaping onto the ground. After a moment he stood, letting the blankets fall off of him.

“You know, if you don't want us hanging out you could always make sure he's in your room when you go to bed.”

“If you went to bed at a normal time, like a normal person, he would not feel inclined to join you.”

Raising an eyebrow he met Damian's gaze head on. “You're aware I'm a Vampire, right? I'm naturally nocturnal.”

“Father, Grayson, and the others sleep for a few hours during the night. With such a lack of light in Gotham Vampire's are perfectly capable of functioning similarly to the rest of us.”

“I appreciate the effort, but the only person around here who could possibly be considered to having a normal sleeping pattern is Alfred.” He smiled slightly. “And anyway, I was working.”

Damian's head cocked to the side, curiosity starting to brew in his eyes. “Working? On the Kerr case? You are aware that we cannot progress until Morse gets back in touch with us? Honestly Drake, I'm starting to think that you suffer from obsession. You do not know how to take a break.”

“I'm working on something else, Damian.” And maybe he shouldn't have said anything about why he was up at God-know's what time in the morning. Sticking with being nocturnal should have been the extent of it. “Now you should probably go back to bed. I'm going out.”

As he went to leave, Damian moved to block his way. The younger was taller than him, while not by much, it was enough to consistently frustrate him. While Tim was forever frozen, unable to ever reach his potential height, Damian continued to grow. Sometimes, that one inch made it feel as if Damian was towering over him. A mocking reminder that Tim was a teenager permanently, stuck living a half life while Damian lived the life of the definition of privilege.

“Where are you going?”

Scout out the warehouse. It's strictly recon, so don't be stupid and go investigating.

“The Red Moon.”

Damian raised a perfect eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You are going to a bar alone? That's terribly sad, Drake. Or is it desperate?”

Don't argue with him. Don't let him get a rise out of you.

Push on.

Leave without an incident.

“There's a band playing I like playing, I thought I would go and support them.”

“At four fifteen in the morning? What sort of terrible band are they?”

Letting himself feel his exhausting, he let his shoulders sag. With the straightest face he could muster; “Emo.”

Damian cocked his head to the side, eyes almost drinking Tim in as if he could not possibly make sense of him.

“Where are you really going?” The slow pace of the sentence almost took Tim by surprise.

“To the Red Moon. I'm serious.” It wasn't one hundred percent a lie, he would definitely be going to get a drink after he visited the warehouse.

“Okay.” Damian dropped his arms to his sides. “Take me with you.”

If Tim's heart had been beating, it most definitely would have stopped.

“Excuse me?”

“I wish to accompany you to the Downworlder bar. I have never visited one before.”

“And you are going to have to wait a little longer. Even if I wanted to, I can't take you anywhere. Bruce would have my head on a spike before I could say 'Sorry'. If it was up to me, you would be allowed out more often and with any one of us. But Bruce is already pissed at Dick for breaking the rules, I can't begin to imagine the shit storm that would occur if I took you anywhere.”

“Tt. You are so painfully boring, Drake.” And with that Damian turned on his heel and left the room.

By the time Tim had left the manor, his mind was running a mile a minute. Not once in his life had he ever imagined Damian backing down from a subject so easily. He almost pulled his phone out then and there to text Steph about how it was the single most terrifying thing to have ever happened to him.

And he had crawled out of his own grave, drank three bags of blood while still covered in his own bodily fluid and earth, while surrounded by complete strangers.

That was most certainly a day he wished he did not have to remember.

By the time he found a vantage point to watch the warehouse he was fully prepared to turn around, go back to the Manor, and ask Damian why the hell he had given up so easily.

Settling at the edge of the old building he pulled out his phone. There were three warehouses in the distance, a little run down, most definitely not being used for their original purposes. With his enhanced eyesight he didn't need binoculars, though he had a pair with him just in case.

I'm here. He sent the text to Jason. Still wondering what it was the elder actually wanted him to be looking out for.

As the minutes ticked by, faint movement caught his attention. There were most definitely people inside the warehouse. Who they were and what they were doing was completely unknown to him, but he expected that he wasn't supposed to be finding that out.

Using his binoculars he focused his gaze, narrowing in on the lone figure stood outside. A cigarette held loosely between two fingers, what looked to be a pamphlet in the other. The figure was dressed all in black, a pendant hung around his neck. The symbol on the pendent was one he did not recognise. It looked like a rune, but one he had never seen before. It was crimson red, and the lines were carved jaggedly.

“Ah yes, this looks just how I imagine the Red Moon to be.”

The binoculars slid from his fingers, and he could almost feel the blood in his veins get colder.

Bruce was going to skin him alive.

“What. are. you. doing. here?”

“Oh please, Drake. Do you truly believe this is the first time I have disobeyed my fathers rule?”

“No. I just don't understand why you have to get me involved.”

Damian sat down next to him, his expression portraying his desire to roll his eyes. Something he did not actually do.

“You got me curious. While I fully believe you sit in your room listening to nothing but the most depressing of music, I do not believe you are sad enough to go to a bar alone and publicly listen to such bands.”

“I-” He felt somewhat frozen. “I don't know whether that's an insult, or a stretch at a compliment.”

“It is neither. Merely an observation. Now, what on earth are we doing here? Clearly it does not involve alcohol or bad live music.”

While he could tell the younger the truth, he decided he valued what trust Jason had put in him more. He had enough experience with Damian's frustration to know that he could survive it. It was easier to deal with an angry brat, than a betrayed Jason.

“You're smart.” He started slowly. “The symbol on his pendant, do you recognise it at all?” He held out the binoculars which Damian took from him. “It looks like a rune, but I've never seen it before.”

There was a stretch of silence as Damian looked across at the warehouse. He didn't know why the symbol seemed so important, it just did. His gut told him that he needed to know what it was, and for most of his life his gut had never led him astray. Only once could he truly fault his gut, and even then, he had still found the answers he was looking for.

“I have seen it before.” Damian said slowly, quietly. Tim looked at him from the corner of his eyes, while the younger kept the binoculars over his eyes. “My mother wore a similar pendant. It was a gift from my grandfather. I also saw the same symbol on a book when I was with the League. When I asked about it, I was told I would find out when I was older. That was long before I found myself on fathers doorstep.”

“So it's important to the League.” Tim thought out loud. “Or at least to Ra's. So it's not a rune?”

Damian shook his head as he lowered the binoculars. “I do not think so. However, I could be wrong. It's design is incredibly similar to that of a rune, which is why we cannot possibly rule out that train of thought. However, none of that tells me why I am sat on the edge of a building staring at warehouse watching some kind of cult meeting.”

“Cult meeting?” He turned his head to look at Damian curiously.

Annoyance and frustration flashed in his jade eyes. “Yes, Drake, a cult meeting. This is your stake out, have you not been paying attention?”

“I was, up until I was derailed by someone who isn't supposed to leave the manor.”

“Inside the warehouse there is a man dressed in black and crimson robes, wearing the same symbol. From the movement of his mouth it looks as though he is chanting. The fact this is a meeting not being held in a place of worship, or a publicly owned building implies it is not strictly legal. Most obvious option is that this is a cult.”

“And that symbol is what this cult is all about.”

“Precisely.”

Chapter Text

Oddly enough, the problem isn’t that he doesn’t want Damians help. It’s that he can’t break Jason’s trust, and if he allowed Damian in on the mission then it breaks Jason’s number one rule.

Don’t tell anyone about this.

Having Damian all but shadow him and give advice rather than insult, it had been helpful and not at all the worst thing in the world. Which, he suspected, was probably worth having a midlife (could he even call it that) crisis.

The bigger issue was the problem at hand. Jason had no idea how he was killed and brought back. There was some sort of cult running around that Ra’s had ties to. Deathstroke was on the prowl. Joe Kerr had risen from the dead, and all of a sudden the League was back in Gotham. It was all connected. All of it. And somehow Jason’s death was the centerpiece. Jason’s death and resurrection was linked to every little thing that was happening, and yet the hows and the why’s….

“Can you stop thinking so loudly? It’s cutting into my beauty sleep.”

Steph flopped down onto the couch next to him, and he gave a half assed shrug.

“I’d apologise, but-”

“You’re not sorry. I know, red.” Steph’s head hit his shoulder.

Exhaustion ran through him, draining him of his energy. Sometimes he thought that the most disappointing part of actually becoming a Vampire was finding out that he still needed to sleep. Not for as long, and not always as often. A lack of sleep wouldn’t kill him, but it did drain his ‘enhanced abilities’. Which he thought was complete bullshit.

“You tired?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Do you have any idea, how hard it is to try and keep up with her?” Was Steph’s answer. “I think she’s a whole new level of Vampire. I doubt there’s anyone on the planet faster than she is.”

“Best the Clave isn’t aware of her personally then, huh?”

Steph snorted. “Do you think they would kill us?”

“The Clave?”

“Yeah.” Steph didn’t move, but he suspected that if she was still human she would have shuddered. “I mean, think of all the secret’s we’re keeping. They think there’s eight of us. As far as they’re concerned Jason doesn’t associate with us. Damian, they don’t even know he exists. It’s best that way for now, but Bruce can’t hide him forever. Megan and Selina are aware of his existence, and I’d place my bet’s that somebody at the institute knows. Our ties with Jason, the Clave are going to get more suspicious the longer we go without handing him over - we always hand the Rogues over.”

“I think-” He pressed his lips together. “I think that yeah, if things don’t get sorted, that they’ll come for us eventually. I don’t think they’d necessarily kill us - not unless they need a group of Downworlders to pin some Shadowhunter Crimes on again. But for now, we need to focus on what is happening. Worst comes to worst, we all side with Dick and force Bruce to become friends with Clark.”

“I don’t imagine that would go down well.”

“Might go down great.”

“This is-” Narrowing his eyes, he grimaced as he looked at the wall. “Really something else.”

Artemis was just behind him, bow in hand, face expressionless despite the sheer disgust in her eyes.

Demon blood was splattered across the walls, and a mix of scarred, bloody, frail bodies were piled in a corner of the room.

They had gotten a call saying there had been something strange happening in an old abandoned house. The reports had claimed Werewolf activity, but upon entering the basement, it was painfully obvious that Werewolves had never set foot in the basement, and if they had, they hadn’t been there long.

“What do you think, kid dork?”

Wally snorted at the teenage nickname. “Greater Demon. No questions asked. Looks like some kind of lab.”

There were a cluster of desks in the center of the room, some equipment was knocked over and it looked as though whoever had put it there had been in a rush when leaving. Half the equipment that his mind was telling him should be there, was missing. A knocked over stool, and the bloody footprints that headed towards the basement exit just confirmed those theories.

“What do you think they were making?”

Getting closer to the desks, he frowned. There was no sign of anything. No vials that had smashed. No spilled liquid or powder. Whoever left had grabbed everything important.

Everything except the bodies and the blood.

“If there’s nothing been left behind, we only have two ways to find out.” Glancing at the wall, he felt his stomach lurch. “We’re going to have to take some samples back for Uncle Barry.”

Artemis looked at the blood and then looked at him. Pulling a few vials out from the base of her quiver, she tossed them over to him. Taking the hint, he caught them and got to work.

Filling vials with disgusting blood that was probably a mix of demon and whatever else, was not a job he found fun. His Uncle Barry loved analyzing the different samples, and had no qualms with collecting them either. Wally on the other hand, he suspected he had a sensitive stomach.

As he capped the last vial, he noticed something move from the corner of his eye. There was something crawling across the floorboards - or as he began paying more attention, multiple somethings. His heart sped up as he watched they bubbled against the floorboards and stretched up. Arms forming, fingers reaching, skin covered in barbs that looked like red stained teeth. All aiming for the same target.

It was instinct.

And Barry was going to kill him.

The demon reached for Artemis. But she wasn’t there. Wally pulled her out the way, having relied on nothing but sheer instinct, pulling them both to the ground. Not his greatest tactic, but it got Artemis out the way. And he was back on his feet before a single Demon had a chance to even blink, Seraph Blade in hand.

And one of the Demons went flying.

Straight towards Wally.

What would have looked like a blur to anyone else, was completely in focus for Wally. And when Dick Grayson met his eyes, Wally’s gut told him that the Vampire knew that. Had been hanging around long enough to have seen a red and black blur slam into Artemis.

Using his Seraph Blade he sliced the head of the Demon - and it was strange. Teaming up with a Vampire who was more than happy to throw Demons at both himself and Artemis - who was back on her feet - for them to shoot or behead. And when it was over, and Artemis looked slightly out of breath, her grey eyes hardened.

“How did you do that?” She demanded.

His heart was pounding fast, too fucking fast. It made him feel sick.

“Do what? Kill a demon? I’ve been doing that since-”

“How did you reach me so quickly?”

It took everything he had to suppress the lurch of his stomach, and he was absolutely certain that his skin was as green as his eyes.

“Because I threw him, duh.”

Surprise flooded through him, but he wasn’t going to reject the cop-out.

“Which hurt, by the way. Artemis is not comfy to land on.”

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

But the world was all so fucking slow. He had learned quickly enough that his mind worked, and it worked fast. At least, faster than everyone elses. He worked so much faster than everyone else, and sometimes, he forgot he had to focus. If his focus slipped, it would feel like he was trapped in a horrific slow-mo movie and pulling himself into a world where he could cope took a lot of breathing exercises with Iris and Barry to help.

Artemis pulled a face. “Oh, yeah, because you’re a fucking feather pillow.”

“I’m glad you’ve recognised my-” The back of her hand hit his shoulder and he flinched. “Ouch.”

“Do you still have those vials, or did Grayson break them when he threw you?” There was something slightly wary in her tone, and he knew she didn’t completely believe the cover story - but it wasn’t like she could prove anything.

“Hey!”

“Nah, they’re good.” Meeting Dick’s eyes, he raised an eyebrow. “What brings you here anyway?”

Dick was leaning against - what was probably the only clean part of - the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “We’re uh- Checking up, on known rogue bases at the moment.”

Wally looked at Artemis, who had folded her own arms and looked relatively pissed off. “Known rogue bases? Fucking typical.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Bruce likes his secrets. If we’d known this was a b-”

“No.” He cut her off, and waved his arms about. “This. What part of this looks like rogue Vampire activity? There is demon blood everywhere, and I haven’t looked yet but those bodies - not drained. None of this is rogue Vampire activity.”

Both Dick and Artemis were frowning at him.

“Last I heard…” The Vampire said slowly. “It was Nygma who lived here. But that was a while ago.” He looked thoughtful and he looked around the room. “I was only here because I was asked to check out our list of Rogue bases. Update it. Make sure we know what is or isn’t still in use and rough Rogue numbers.”

“So it’s what now? A demon hide out?” Artemis looked as confused as Wally was feeling. “Demon’s don’t have bases? They don’t work together either, like those ones looked like they were doing.”

She gestured to the stains from the Demons they had just killed.

Wally’s mind dragged his eyes back to the table, to the lab equipment on the table.

“Better yet, what to demons need with lab equipment.”

And then his blood began to run cold, eyes slowly turning to focus on the dead bodies. His feet moved off their own accord, and his heart felt as though it was slowing - each beat reverberating throug hhis entire being.

“Wally?” Artemis’s voice sounded like it was under water, and Wally touched the body at the top of the pile.

The very pale, very cold body. It was once a man. With silver hair.

Wally turned the body, hands moving to the eyes to reopen them.

No.

Nope.

Oh God, no.

And he moved to the next, pale, silver haired body and checked their eyes.

And the next.

And the next.

“Wally?”

And he felt himself tremble at thought of where they were stood.

“Yin Fen.” His voice felt like nothing more than a breath, one that made him desperate to pull in more air.

“What?”

Pulling himself upright, he turned to meet Artemis’ eyes.

“Cause of death, Yin Fen.”

Artemis froze. Not a single muscle twitched for a few seconds, and it almost worried him.

“You’re sure.”

“There’s demon blood everywhere, this was being used as a lab, and there’s six dead bodies. All of which are insanely pale, with silver or white hair, and silver eyes. One of them was no older than sixteen.” His heart began pounding like crazy once again. “And whoever was running this place, they escaped.”

“Shit.”

“Two large hot chocolates, three cinnamon buns, and this.” He dropped the tuna melt onto the counter and a pure white eyebrow rose in response.

“Buying for you and your girlfriend?”

Glancing back at the table where Cassie was sat, he shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend.” Tilting his head to the side slightly, he let a grin stretch across his face. “And that’s all for me.”

Rose’s silvery blue eyes widened slightly. “You want to order both the hot chocolate’s just now?”

“Yup.” He just kept grinning.

For someone who ate the amount he did, he should probably be bigger. But on the flip side he looked relatively underweight. His metabolism couldn’t stabilize. Like Wally struggled with controlling his speed and molecules, Bart struggled with balancing out his energy and consumption. Life was, entirely unfair.

“You’re a strange kid.” Rose stated as she rung everything up.

“I try.”

He’d given up on being normal. On trying to be normal. He was who he was, and so long as he didn’t reveal the big bad secret, then what did it matter what he did. He could run faster than the human eye could see, it was as cool as it was amazing and it was the exact opposite of normal.

Trying to be anything else had just gotten far to exhausting.

Handing the money over, he grinned. “Keep the change.”

And by the time he had plopped down next to Cassie, two others had joined her.

“Hey man, I’m Gar and this is Jaime. And yeah, we are.”

He didn’t need Gar to elaborate. The upside of being a Shadow Hunter was the enhanced senses. Everything had a unique scent, and the two boys at the table were most certainly werewolves.

“The’s crash dude. I was wondering when I was gonna meet Cassie’s friends. No offense but I was totally starting to think she had made you guys u-”

“Bart.”

“What? People make stuff up all the time. Like Hal. Totally hasn’t ever been into outer space. Also, he was never a pilot. Did he steal a plane once while drunk? Yes. Was he a qualified mundane pilot? Nope.”

“Hal? Jordan?” Jaime was looking at him, and he nodded in response as he stuffed half a cinnamon bun in his mouth.

“Hell yeah.”

“Are you okay? You’re literally always eating.”

“Growth spurt.”

Cassie didn’t look like she believed him, which was totally not crash. He was getting there. Wally had already been through most of his puberty when they developed their speed. Him on the otherhand? There was never enough energy in his system to keep up with everything his body had to do.

“So, Megan may or may not be going to ground me.” Gar stated, looking almost sheepish. “I got caught sneaking out. I haven’t seen her, but she left a note in the kitchen. And well, things might slow down if I can’t get out and about. But what I do know, is the League are most definitely back. So when I say I saw Ra’s in Wholefoods, I am not lying.”

“You saw Ra’s in Wholefoods?” Bart felt one of his eyebrows rise up his forehead.

Gar nodded as Jaime rolled his eyes. “He thinks-”

“He’s in Gotham which means it was totally him. And on top of that, he’s a Cultist.”

“He’s what?” Cassie sounded as though she thought it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

“Yeah man. Cultist. Every top member of the League, and the Court.”

“Bullshit.”

Gar leaned across the table, eyes scanning everything as his ears twitched. Pulling something from his pocket, he looked at the two of them.

“You know your rune’s right?”

“Yeah.” He barely let Cassie answer. “I’ve seen every Rune there is.” Tapping a finger against his temple, he cracked a smug smile. “Idetic memory at that.”

Gar unfolded the crumpled piece of paper in his hands.

“Is this a Rune?”

Cassie instantly said no.

But Bart.

He wanted to throw up.

His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt a tremor run down his hand. Something twisted in his stomach and it felt as though his lower back was burning, melting. The pain shot through him, searing like a brand.

Zoom’s twisted eyes were burning into his own.

“No.” He gasped out, feeling the tears scald his cheeks. “No that’s not a Rune.”

“It’s a Cult.”

Chapter Text

Freaking out. Him?

Definitely.

“Bart. Are you okay?”

“Huh?” He looked at Cassie, wondering if he would get away with just bullshitting the whole thing. “Yeah, of course.”

The fact that there were tear tracks on his cheeks, and he couldn’t guarantee that he hadn’t been vibrating was probably the big sign that he was the exact opposite of whatever okay meant. But the consequences of their imprisonment were to remain a secret.

“How-” He took in as steadying a breath as he possibly could. “Where did you find that?”

And his eyes were on Gar. The boy’s own, emerald green eyes looked almost wary as he regarded Bart. “Doesn’t mat-”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” It was almost a snarl and he could feel the tremors running down his arms. The fear that flooded through him, and he knew it had everything to do with the burning in his back and Zoom’s manic eyes and nothing to do with the possibility of being caught. “I need to know. I’m not gonna rat you out dude, but- but that- that thing right their in your fucking hand, you gotta tell me how you found it, where you found it - why it’s in fucking Gotham.”

All he could see were Zoom’s blazing blue eyes. Feel twitchy, corpse cold hands on his skin. And that mark seared into wall after wall.

“Is this-” Cassie’s voice was oddly soft. “Bart, is this to do with what happened a few years ago?”

Blinking, he shook his head. Fingers curling into fists.

It was bad enough that Zoom was still out there. Running as fast as Barry could. Hopping from place to place doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted - not that Bart suspected for a second that Zoom was doing just anything. But knowing that it had followed them to Gotham. That they were sat in what was becoming a hub of activity that - if Gar and Cassie were right - revolved around the same symbol Zoom worshiped.

“What happened a few years ago?” Jaime asked.

And for the first time in his life, Bart was silent.

Eyes locked on the sheet of paper balled in Gar’s hand.

“Well-” Cassie shifted next to him, and he could feel her eyes burn into him for just a moment. “You can stop me anytime, Bart.” He nodded, and she continued. “A few years ago, Central City Institute was broken into by a group of Downworlders-”

For a second, he froze, before his head snapped up and he looked at Cassie.

Never before had he heard what anyone else had about the incident, and suddenly he felt sick for a different reason.

“From what we’ve heard they were after Wally, but Barry, Jay, and Bart put up one hell of a fight and were dragged off as well. Nobody really knows what happened after that, but they were gone for just under three weeks. The rogues weren’t found and-”

“This is all bullshit. Who told you this?”

Cassie blinked, and looked at him almost offended. “It’s common knowledge.”

He felt winded. “Common knowledge is a bullshit lie. Zoom isn’t a Downworlder. His lackies aren’t Downworlders. It wasn’t a Downworlder attack, and it wasn’t Wally they were after - why would they be after Wally? It was Barry. Zoom wanted Barry because Iris married him. When Wally stepped in to defend his Uncle, and Zoom saw how similar to Iris he looked-” Shuddering, he swallowed. “He grabbed him too. Wanted to strip I of everything she loved so she’d have no choice but to turn to Zoom. Didn’t work though.” And a twisted, broken laugh slid past his lips. “Cause she turned to Jay - who was retired, and living on a damn farm with Joan, and should never have been involved. But he’d do anything for Barry and Iris. So he went after Barry and Wally, and I went after him. I was a kid, and he was my guardian and I had heard a few stories about Zoom and didn’t think Jay should go it on his own.

“I was there nine days. Barry and Wally were there twelve.”

He didn’t have to say any more about Jay. That - that was common knowledge.

“Hal, John, and Diana showed up, busted us out. Not after all the damage had been done.” Shaking his head, he almost sneered. “Anyone who tells you that it was Downworlders that attacked Central are doing nothing more than spreading biased propaganda. Downworlders aren’t the issue in this world. It’s Nephilim. Nephilim like Luthor, and Crock, and Al Ghul, Wilson, Bee, Savage, and Thawne.”

“Thawne?” Cassie was looking at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“Eobard Thawne aka Professor Zoom.”

“I thought Thawne died.” Cassie sounded quiet, thoughtful. “There’s that monum-”

“There’s a reason I haven’t been to Idris since I was twelve. And it’s the same reason the Clave hate Barry at the moment.”

With a rustle, Gar reopened the sheet of paper, placing it flat on the centre of the table. Bart flinched, and Gar’s gaze didn’t waver.

“I have a friend doing some… research into” his voice dropped considerably. “the Light. Said that the higher ups in the League were inducted into knowledge on this Cult. The League, the Court, Vandal - all of them know about it, are part of it. But my friend can’t exactly get access to all the information we need. What we know is, whatever this symbol is - it’s the heart of the Cult. It symbolises a Prophecy; one the Light believes will put them at the top of the food chain if it comes to pass.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a frie-”

Gar all but glared at Cassie. “Well I do. And you don’t need to know anything about them.”

“Need to know. Secrecy keeps people alive. I get that.” Bart responded. “Pricarious situation?”

Gar nodded. “Yeah.”

“Crash. So this Prophecy, is it the whole ‘gateway to a new era’ thing? Cleanse the world of the bad blood, and make way for the light?” He threw his arms out wide and hummed, trying desperately not to think about the fact he was quoting Him.

“Yeah.”

Bart nodded, and looked Gar dead in the eyes. “So, you’re forming ties with people to help you take these fuckers down?”

The boy nodded, and Bart’s heart began racing again. The thought of finally making Zoom pay for what he did thrummed through him.

Holding his hand out, he felt a strange sort of smile tug at his lips. “My friend, I would love to be in business with you.”

“Bart, what are you doing?” Cassie asked. “If Clark found out we’re involved with something like this-”

“Didn’t you say you hated how we’re left out of everything? That you wanted to be more involved? You listen in on meetings and meet up with Gar because you don’t want to be left out. Because you want to be prepared when something does happen. Well something is going to happen, and if the Clave want to derune me when it’s all over-” He smirked. “They’re gonna have to catch me first. I’m not sitting around watching Clark and the others pussyfoot around trying to work out what might be going on, when between the five of us we’re already half way there.”

Gar clasped his hand, a wolfish grin on his face.

“Welcome to the Team.”

“Don’t worry about it kid.”

Wally raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. “He threatened to bench us, because Grayson randomly showed up.”

Hal shrugged before placing a hand on Wally’s shoulder. “Look, things are pretty tense at the moment. nobody knows who is on what side. And the Downworlder’s are getting crankier by the minute. Clark’s just -”

“Paranoid? Is this because Bruce actually showed up to a meeting?”

“Showed up? Tried to take over. Told Clark he didn’t know how to do his job, and implied that the rest of us were idiots.”

“Uncle Barry said Bruce was really nice to him.”

Hal’s face twisted and for a second, Wally was convinced his not-Uncle was going to burst a vein.

“Bat’s is a psychopath. He’s just trying to lure your Uncle into a false sense of security, and probably recruit him to a blooddrive.”

“Bat’s?”

The older man simply narrowed his eyes at Wally. “Don’t get off topic kid, you’re in a huff. Because Clark doesn’t want you or Artemis hanging around Downworlders-”

“When we weren’t and the dude literally just showed up because Bruce sent him to investiagte old rogue hideouts - because everyone knows something is going on. Something we are way behind on figuring out.”

He hated Gotham. He really, truly, hated it. All he wanted was to go back to Central, see the sun, kill a few demons, and run. Sure, he had used his speed earlier that day, but it had been next to nothing, and if Bart ever found out the kid would either kick his ass or temporarily run away. If Wally wanted to run, the kid wanted to fly. Bart was far faster than Wally would ever be, and his body needed to move more than Wally’s did.

It wouldn’t be the first time since they had arrived in Gotham that Wally had to grab Bart’s arm, becuase the younger was practically vibrating.

“You’re sounding like Connor.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

He hated Gotham. He really, truly hated it. But if he had to be there because his job demanded it. Then he was going to do his fucking job. The sooner his job was done, the better.

“Who’s sounding like me?”

Connor stalked into the room, lips pulled into a frown, arms folded across his chest.

Sometimes, the young man’s hearing abilities terrified Wally. But then he’d remember that Connor and Kara had been kidnapped when they were younger, had been held prisoner for almost a month - and Wally had to wonder.

“Wallace.” Hal replied. “Brooding about how we could all be doing more. That we’re behind on sched-”

“I never said that. I just think, that the Light have been planning something for a long damn time, and we know fuck all. They’re moving into their endgame positions, and we’re only just hitting start on the damn menu. We need to be faster in-”

“Not all of us are as quick as you, kid.” And there was a seriousness to Hal’s eyes. “The Clave doesn’t just limit what Downworlder’s can and can’t do.”

“That doesn’t seem to hold much warrent in Gotham-”

“No.” Hal’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “It doesn’t. Maybe that’s why they crack down harder on the Institute higher ups. The tighter they have Clark’s balls, the more leeway everyone else has.” Winking he backed off. “I told you kids about that unsanctioned stunt I pulled back in Atlantis, right?”

Connor looked at Wally, before watching Hal leaves.

“Nice advice for someone who wasn’t constantly under the watchful eye of the head.”

“Not true.” Wally responded. “Dude grew up with his dad as the Head of Coast City Institute.”

Connor was silent for what felt like an eternity. “So what do we do? We can’t just walk into the night, and-”

“Nah, I was thinking of heading to Poison Ivy.”

A look of sheer disgust crossed Connor’s face.

“Look, we know very little. And everything starts somewhere. Artemis and I found a Yin Fen lab earlier, and if anyone is going to know anybody who is dealing in Yin Fen, it’ll be in a place like that.”

“There’s no way in hell they’ll let a Shadowhunter in there.”

“You might be surprised.”

Seeing Connor - who, other than his height, was Clark’s double in every way - in the middle of the most famous drug riddled club in Gotham, was one of the most amusing things Wally had ever seen.

Unsurprisingly, he recognised no one. The place was practically falling apart, and he was absolutely certain that if he put his hands anywhere near the actual bar he was going to get a splinter or seven. Looking around, he was sure there was an orgy going on in the corner, going by Connor’s face he was even more sure.

“This place disgusts me.” Connor made his way to the bar, and Wally shrugged as he followed.

“Join the club.”

But his eyes were drinking everything in, trying to catch even the possibility of a Yin Fen deal going down.

“Well, what can I get for you boys.”

Wally jumped in before Connor could even dare to suggest water.

“What would you suggest, babe?” And he pulled the most charming smile he possibly could onto his face, one arm on the bar his other hand resting on his hip as he completely ignored Connor’s glare.

“Hmm.” The redheaded bar tender took him in before smirking. “I think I can whip something nice up for you two.”

“Ooh, a surprise. You sure do know the way to a guys heart.”

Something caught his eye as he heard Connor lowly ask “What the hell are you doing?”

A young blonde man looked to be signing something to what looked like nothing more than a shadow. For a moment, Wally felt guilty for having his attention being dragged off by a young deaf man-

“Being an idiot.” A new voice replied, “You’re in the wrong place if you’re looking for skeevy dea-”

“No I’m not.”

His elbow dug into Connor’s side and he didn’t have to look to know the young man was following his gaze. Was watching the blond be handed a plastic bag with silvery powder. A sum of money was passed from the blonde to the shadow, and Wally felt his insides twist.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I knew this would be it.”

Two drinks were placed in front of Wally and Connor, and it took everything Wally had to keep the charming smile on his face.

“Thank y-”

He was cut off as a wad of money was pushed towards the bartender.

“Grayson.” she said lowly. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s lovely to see you again too, Isley.” Dick removed his hand from the money. “I’m paying for my friends, most definitely untainted drinks. And to ask a few questions.”

The bartender pulled the drinks back from the bar. “You’re no fun, Dick. And I’m not telling you anything.”

“It’s about Mr Shadowman in the corner there.”

“Mr Shadowman?” Connor asked under his breath.

Wally looked at his fellow Shadowhunter and shrugged. He didn’t know the Vampire nearly well enough to know what he was or wasn’t playing at.

“No idea.” Isley replied. “He shows up every so often. Drinks a few martini’s. And leaves. He’s- He’s a big guy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with a stature like that before. No one really goes near him.”

“Not unless they want Yin Fen.” And wow, Dick really was a too the point kind of guy.

Isley’s face twisted. “Excuse me.”

“That man. Just dealt Yin Fen to what looks like a young deaf guy-”

“Mute.” Isley replied haughtily. “He’s mute, and there’s no way in hell that kid takes Yin Fen. I’ve known him for almost a year now. If he was using I would know.”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t buying it.” Wally replied. “Cause he most certainly just bought some.” Tapping his hand against the bar, he moved back. “Thanks for your help, though I might recommend stopping your clientel from selling Yin Fen.”

“It’s not the kind of thing you want to be associated with.” Dick stated.

Connor stalked out the bar, taking a deep breath once they were out.

“I don’t ever want to go back in there.”

Repressing a shudder, Wally agreed. “Me and you both buddy. Though we at least got some answers. Like I said we would.”

“Don’t sound so smug.” Connor side eyed him, and he shrugged it off.

“But now we have more questions.”

Connor looked like he had completely forgotton about Dick’s existence. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he folded his arms across his chest.

“And why should we let you help us?”

“Vampire, Shadowhunter solidarity might come in handy in the future. Something weird is going on. We can’t solve it if we’re all seperated. We need to work together. Shadowhunters and Downworlders, together. The world doesn’t just change, we have to help it along. Be better than those that came before us.”

“Tim gave me this.”

Jason handed over a sheet of paper. A strange symbol sat in the middle of the paper, and despite the fact just looking at the symbol made her feel scared, she took the sheet from the Vampire’s hands.

“He had a good search, and it doesn’t match a single known rune.”

Nodding, she could tell just by looking at it that there was nothing Angelic about the symbol.

“I don’t know.”

Jason looked at her, the frown on his face deepening.

“It’s not an Angelic Rune, that is most certainly true. But it’s design… I’ve seen this before. Somewhere.”

She just couldn’t think of where. Part of her could just see the room she had been in, and she was sure there had been a dead body involved - someone else’s memory perhaps. It wasn’t the first time she had gone into another person’s head, after al-

“Psimon.” She said quietly. “I think, the last time I saw this, it was in Psimon’s head.”

Her thumbs brushed against the sheet of paper, the fear danced through her, though she pushed it down. Hoping that if she focused more on the moment, she would think less about the emotions inspired by the symbol.

“Psimon was a warlock.”

“Yes. But this symbol is part of something bigger.”

“Tim said when he saw it, there was a Cultist meeting happening.”

She paused, meeting Jason’s eyes. “Where?”

“An abandoned warehouse, near the river.” And then something glinted in his eyes. “Why? Thinking about investigating?”

Really, she should be staying home. Gar would be back eventually and she had to speak to him about the dangers of not telling her where he was. But at the same time, there was something about the symbol that tugged at the back of her head, telling her she should know what it is. That she did know.

“Yes.”

And Jason seemed to straighten up, eyes filling with their own determination.

A couple of muttered words, and Megan’s own jacket and shoes appeared on her own body. Key’s in her pocket, she handed the sheet of paper back to Jason.

“Are you coming with me?”

“Obviously.”

And her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Pulling it out as she made her way to the door, she frowned.

Are you home? I need your help.

It was from Connor, and she was so painfully tempted to say yes, of course. And she began to type.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Jason asked, giving a knowing look.

And her heart froze in her chest for just a second, because she had forgotten Jason could hear her heart and the way it beat.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Is he needing your help?”

She hit send.

“Not as much as you do.”

I’m sorry Connor, but I’m out.

“Whatever this symbol is. However He keeps coming back. The fact Vandal Savage is back. It’s all connected. I need to be helping whoever is in the middle of that. And it’s not the Nephilim.”

She shut the door behind her, and took in a deep breath.

She would go to the warehouse with Jason. Investigate. Do whatever she could to trigger whatever memory she had of the symbol, and they would be one step closer to finding out what was going on. One step closer to figuring out how Jason was alive. One step closer to figuring out how Joe Kerr was alive.

It’s a symbol of death. Psimon’s voice mocked in her head. And it’ll stain all who touches in in blood red light.

His cackle echoed through her head, and she wanted to hold her skull while it burned.

She didn’t regret going into his mind to stop him, but if she could live without the side effects… If she could one day, stop hearing his voice in her mind-

“Hey Morse, you alright?”

“Of course.” She smiled tightly. “Are you driving or am I?”

Chapter Text

“So…” She was stood in the middle of a very empty warehouse, a chill lingering in her spine. “This is rather, odd.”

Whoever had been in before them had most certainly tidied up after themselves. The warehouse looked less like an abandoned warehouse and more like a ‘for sale’ warehouse. There was nothing there. Nothing except a few blank sheets of paper blowing around, and possibly something - or someone - watching them.

When she had checked the building out before entering, she had checked to make sure there was nothing and no one there. While she couldn’t find anything, her gut was telling her that she was - they were - being watched.

Picking up one of the sheets of paper, her lips pulled into a frown as she could sense the magic. Closing her eyes, she tried to ground herself, to get a read on what kind of magic it was.

Her lips twitched.

“Of course.”

“What?”

She looked over at Jason, blue eyes regarding her carefully.

“I think it’s a little ironic, that a Vampire goes on a mission that involves blood magic.”

Jason looked relatively unimpressed. Eyes flickering between her and the sheet of paper.

“Well.” He said slowly. “I can’t exactly do anything to help.”

Nodding, she quickly ran her thumb down the side of the sheet of paper, trying not to wince when she felt the far too familiar stinging sensation.

And she was right, the tiny drop of blood stained the sheet and red began flooding the page. In horrific, startling black, dead in the centre of the page, was the same symbol Jason had shown her.

WELCOME, MY CHILD, TO THE CHURCH OF BLOOD

“Sounds like my kind of church.” Jason muttered as he looked at the page.

“I thought…” She paused for a second, trying to gather her own thoughts. “When I was in Psimons head… He thought something, something about that symbol and how it will stain everyone who touches it in blood red light. I thought, perhaps, it had something to do with the Light. With everyone crawling out of the woodwork, it made sense. But, I don’t recall Psimon ever being a part of the Light. And this Church of Blood…” Her frown deepened. “Psimon viewed himself as an Apostle. Of someone touched by a God.”

“A red, bloody world, doesn’t sound like a benevolent sort of God. You think Psimon would give you the answers you want?”

“No.” Her voice felt too quiet, but she knew Jason heard her anyway. “Even if we could get to him, I would have to take the answers from him.”

The silence that followed was almost loud. She could see Psimons pale eyes watching her. Everything about the man haunted her. There was no real desire within him, his motivations did not seem to exist. He felt he was above everyone else. Could do whatever he wanted, so long as he followed his masters will…

“What did you do to him?”

Blinking, she met Jason’s gaze evenly.

“I sent him straight to hell. Mortal body and all.”

Initially she had been supposed to hand him over to the Clave. And she would have, sometimes she thought that she should have, but the man had turned to Gar. Had dared to target her younger brother. After everything he had already been through-

“There’s no punishment the Clave could dish out, that he would have rightfully deserved. So I sent him somewhere I could trust to deliver a punishment tailored specifically for him.”

“Remind me to never piss you off.”

“No.” She smiled as sweetly as she possibly could. “Just remember to never harm my brother. He’s all I really have, and his safety and his life are of paramount importance to me.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that this guy sounds like a douche. Why would you hang around someone who unironically stands in a superhero pose?”

“You’ve stood in superhero poses.”

“Ironically. That’s the important factor here, Rae. I do it ironically.”

Raven just gave him a look before leading him down the tea, coffee, and biscuits isle.

“What can I say, he’s kind of funny.”

Frowning, he chose that moment to be as dramatic as possible.

“Funny?” He put his hands over his heart. “Dude. Raven. Rae? Did you just call someone, who wasnt’t me, funny? Because that hurts. You know how much being the funny guy means to me-”

“Ironic, given you’re not.”

“G A S P.”

She paused, and turned to look at him. Arms folded, violet eyes completely unimpressed.

“Please tell me I heard that wrong.”

A shiver ran down his back, and a cool energy ran down his arms. The feeling as though every hair on his body was standing on end. The kind of feeling that came with apprehension and paranoia. The kind of feeling he only ever got when he knew he was being watched.

He pulled the smile on his face into a grin - he had far too much practice in perfectly feigning expressions.

“Heard what wrong? I’m pretty sure all I did was noisily suck in some air.”

It had taken a damn long time, but he had mastered the art of working out when Raven was actually suppressing a smile.

“You know I’m hilarious. One day, you’ll admit it.”

Shaking her head, she turned to the herbal tea section. “Never going to happen, Logan.”

Making a show of turning to look at the shelves, he glanced further down the isle. And he felt his lips pull into a frown.

He would recognise that obnoxious shade of emerald green anywhere, Jaime could say whatever he wanted. Ra’s Al Ghul was most definitely in Whole Foods. With a ridiculously oversized body guard.

Looking back at the tea, he pulled one of the shelf.

“You like Jasmine, right?”

Raven looked at him. “Sometimes.”

“Cool. Maybe Megan would like it.”

“Your sister?”

The thing with Raven was that he so desperately tried to stick to her rules. He knew she was a Warlock, but that’s where that ended. She wanted no part of the Shadow World, and while he was ninety nine percent sure she knew he was a werewolf he couldn’t totally guarantee that if he wolfed out she wouldn’t freak. The fact that Megan was a Very Important Warlock meant he mentioned her as little as possible. Keeping Raven separate from that aspect of his life was an unspoken condition, and he wasn’t going to break it.

Like Vic kept his runes concealed, and Kori put her ‘mundane practice’ to good use.

They all knew that being friends with Raven was to be the mundane versions of themselves.

They respected her choices, and in the end, would do what they could to protect her from their world.

“Yeah. She usually just drinks breakfast tea, but sometimes she’ll experiment. She was drinking chai a few months back.”

“Personally, I am quite a fan of vanilla.”

And oh, if Gar’s heart could actually stop it would have. It was so loud in his chest he was surprised no one could hear it.

“Really?” His mouth felt dry as he turned to meet the most eery pair of green eyes he had ever seen in his life.

Ra’s pulled a box of tea from the shelf. Small, simple, black with an elegant gold border. Vanilla Black Tea. “Simple, yet sweet. If your… sister is trying new tea’s this is what I would recommend.”

Taking the tea from Ra’s he did his best to smile as naturally as possible. It was the first time, in a long time, that Gar had felt truly terrified. What made his heart pound even faster in his chest, was the way Ra’s gaze flickered to Raven. To the gem in her forehead, and then smiled.

“Quite a beauty, your young friend.” And Ra’s eyes moved back to Gar. “My recommendation to you, young man, is not to let something so precious disappear. The loss of ones love, will remain with you for eternity.”

“Logan!” His heart stuttered and he turned. For a moment he was unsure whether what he was feeling was relief or dread. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey dude. What are you doing here?”

He instantly knew he was to play along, but there was a part of him - a large part, it was basically all of him - that genuinely wanted to know why the hell Tim Drake was actually in Whole Foods.

After a second, he began going over what it was he had actually consumed over the course of the day. Ra’s Al Ghul and Tim Drake. In Whole Foods. There was a. no way Jaime was ever going to believe him, and b. no way it was actually happening. Someone, somewhere, had to have drugged him.

“Was woken up at the crack of dawn by a cranky asshole crying over the lack of ‘decent food’ in the house. So, here I am.”

There was something oddly honest in Tim’s answer. Which surprised him to no end.

“Well, young man, I shall leave you to your friend.” And Ra’s eyes ran over Tim in such a strange way that Gar felt torn between frozen, ready to run, and tempted to punch the man in the face.

Seconds later, and Ra’s was gone.

“What the fuck?” He breathed out. “Oh holy shit, what the fuck?”

Tim was in front of him, hands in dress pants pockets, a firm frown on his face. “I could hear your heartbeat from across the otherside of the damn store.”

Gar felt Raven stiffen next to him, and damn there was one fucking line he wasn’t supposed to cross. Looking at her, he looked back at Tim.

“Thanks - uh, thank you. So much.”

And Tim looked at Raven, and looked at Gar, and nodded slowly. “I can’t believe he was in Whole Foods.”

“Yeah, Jaime didn’t believe me either. Apparently the self-important bastard can actually do his own shopping.”

And something flickered across Tim’s face. “Was he really buying anything?”

Something froze in Gar’s chest, and he felt his blood slowly turn cold. “What?”

Tim seemed to shrug. “You said it yourself. He’s a self important bastard. There’s a million people he could sent to do his food shop. He doesn’t do anything unless it’s important - unless it helps further his own goals.” And Tim’s bright, bright blue eyes were locked onto Gar’s. “He came to Whole Foods, and spoke to you.”

And Gar could feel his heart pick up. Could feel a different type of terror running down his spine.

Vic’s determined brown eyes flickered through his mind, and suddenly he felt terrified.

“You know why?”

Gar shook his head. “I have a theory.” Swallowing, he - oddly enough - thought of Bart. The way the Nephilim had seemed to almost vibrate as he shook, and he hoped to god his panic wasn’t as noticeable.

As soon as he thought it, he felt guilty. Guilty, but not ashamed. Because public panicking was horrific. And he had done it far, far too often.

“You might want to watch your back, Log-”

“It’s not me.”

Tim looked confused as hell, but Gar wasn’t going to risk more than was already at stake.

“Why the hell would Ra’s be after me?” He asked, trying to pull himself back together as quickly as possible. Mockingly he cocked his head to the side and said ‘woof’.

Tim looked entirely unimpressed.

“Don’t worry yourself over me man, believe it or not, up until ten seconds ago, I actually knew what the hell I was doing. Guess I just have to make a few new failsafe’s.”

“What are you up to?” And it surprised him as to how genuine the Vampire sounded.

Gar casually clasped his upper arm before dropping his hand. “Doing what needs to be done.”

When one of Wayne’s kids decided to look at someone it was always unnerving. Gar had seen Dick look at a good number of people. Being on the opposite side of that look made him feel almost naked.

“What do yo-”

“One. Not really a conversation for Whole Foods. Two. I don’t do anything that Bruce is likely to poke his nose into.”

A strange smile tugged at Tim’s lips. “It’s almost like you think I can’t keep a secret from him.” Nodding he began to walk away. “I’ll be in touch, Garfield.”

Taking in a deep breath, he wondered just what kind of a hole he was digging for himself.

“Gar?”

Because it felt like a ridiculously fucking large one. And he wasn’t too sure he was going to be willing to pay the price.

“Yeah.”

“You are keeping a lot of secrets from me.”

Raven was looking at him, a strange emotion in her eyes.

“You said you didn’t want to be a part of any of it. I won’t involve you in something you-”

“You’re in danger.”

He didn’t like to think of it like that. Like he was putting his life on the line. Like every meeting with Vic - every alliance - every clue he dug up - was one step closer, one move towards either success or colossal failure. The Light would either catch him and kill him, or they would win the up coming war. Either way, he tried to think about each step as it happened. Tried to think of each move as if the only option was to succeed.

Because to fail -

“Tim thinks so.”

“You think so.”

Opening his mouth, he wanted to protest.

“You can’t lie to me, Gar. You were terrified when that man approached you. And when Tim suggested that he was here because of you, that fear-”

“Wasn’t for me.” Swallowing, he could feel the urge to shift burn under his skin. “Maybe I am in danger. But that, that’s nothing compared to the kind of danger my best friend could be in.”

Something that looked an awful lot like guilt was burning in Raven’s eyes.

“I don’t know Gar.” Pressing her lips together, she looked at the box of tea that he was still holding. “From where I’m stood, it feels like you have one hell of a target on your back.”

“Okay.” Dick dropped into the chair opposite him, an unnecessary pair of designer sunglasses perched on his nose. “So I have no idea who the kid we’re looking for is. And I have even less of a clue as to who the big YF dealer is.”

“So stakeout it is.”

Connor groaned, and his face looked almost exasperated.

“What do we really expect to learn from either of them.”

“How to find the person in charge.” Wally felt almost as bored as he sounded. “Someone decided to start up a lab in Gotham. The fact that it coincides with the rest of the circus coming to town, is-”

“Too coincidental.” Dick finished. “It’s like Dirk Gently says. Everything is connected.”

Wally met Connor’s equally confused gaze before looking back at the Vampire. “Huh?”

Dick frowned and shook his head. “Nephilim.” He muttered under his breath. “It’s a Mundane series. Was cancelled long before it’s time.”

Shrugging he still felt a little confused, but decided against asking too many questions. The sentiment was what mattered.

“Well, anyway, he’s not wrong. It’s so painfully obvious that everything is connected. The how’s-”

“I hate this.” Connor huffed, his head hitting the table. “I hate waiting. I just-”

“Want to barrel your way through and punch everything?” Wally leaned back in his chair and looked at him, lips pulled into a slight smile.

Connor was no where near as bad as he once was. Barreling head first into any and every fight. At the time, it pissed Wally the hell off. The fact the Connor was so. damn. angry. All the time. It was sometimes too much. And it was frustrating because when Connor was calm they actually got along.

But after Zoom, after everything that happened, and reuniting with the young man after all that time. He understood. People react to trauma in different ways. Connor had been young. Had been traumatised. And it had made someone who was already prone to anger, ten times worse. He had reacted in the only way he had known how to.

Looking back, he felt like an ass for not understanding. But he had been young. Naive to the complexity of life. All he could do was move forward.

“No.” Connor pulled himself back up. “But some action would be nice. Stakeouts and investigations… We all know it’s building to something, I just hate waiting for it. Like cornered prey.”

Something about Connors phrasing made him feel uncomfortable.

“I really hope we’re not.”

“We’re not what?” Dick’s sunglasses had been lowered slightly so his eyes were peaking over the top of them.

“Cornered prey.” Wally replied. “Been there. Done that.” Zoom’s eyes flashed through his head and he tried to ignore it, to ignore the skip in his heart. “What we know is whatever they’re planning, is coming. They’re ready. We’re not. We have a time limit, and we need to put everything together - or enough together - to be ready.”

“Nice motivational speech.” Connor deadpanned. “Can’t wait to hear another right when we need it.”

Wally snorted. “I give fantastic motivational speeches. Just you wait, bro. It’ll blow you away when the time comes.”

“If a time comes where we need a motivational speech, Clark will sure as hell beat you to it.”

“Fair. You ever heard one of Hal’s speeches.”

Connor’s lips twitched ever so slightly, and something a little dead flickered in his eyes. It almost made Wally want to laugh.

“That expression is all the yes I needed to hear. My favourite was the ten minute at least try not to die lecture before going after a greater Demon.”

Hal had no future in motivational speaking, but it made for hilarious mission retellings. The older man was usually in charge of weapons and would usually hand out a good deal of missions. His ‘congratulations on not dying’ speeches were Wally’s favouite. Alongside the ‘oh shit, how am I still here’ rants Hal liked to provide after particularly tricky mission.

“If you want Bruce to really start ranting, just say the words Hal or Jordan.” Dick sounded almost exhausted. “I didn’t think someone could actually get under B’s skin. But nope. There was once a five hour rant about how a neon-green suit and Jordan’s misunderstanding of the word stealth, I tuned out after four minutes… but, it was really something. I think Tim and Cass started taking notes whilst Steph recorded it.”

Wally felt a grin begin to crack across his face, and he saw the exact moment understanding crossed Connors face.

“No. Don’t you dare West. He will never fucking shut up about it.”

“Look-” Wally spoke through the shit-eating grin that had found a home on his face. “I get where you’re coming from, but just imagine the next time Wayne comes to the Institute. Just think about Hal being smug as fuck about the whole thing, and then brutal commets from Bruce, and the comebacks, and the-” Sucking in a deep breath, he sang out the final word. “Drama.”

“Gotham doesn’t need anymore damn drama.”

“Look, Connor, my bro, my dude, my buddy… there is very little that’s enjoyable about this place. I deserve to get a laugh in where I can.”

Connor pushed his chair back and stood up, rolling his eyes. “Go back to Central.”

Snorting, he raised a brow. “It’s like you think I’m not working on it.”

Shaking his head, Connor made his way to the toilets, and Wally turned back to the table and his iced-whatever-the-fuck-Dick-had-ordered. Grabbing it, he took a sip, and was so glad it didn’t taste bad.

“It’s almost as if you didn’t trust my taste.”

“No offence dude, but you’re kinda dead.”

Dick shrugged. “I wasn’t always.”

And that… that was fair enough.

But it tug at something in Wally’s chest. “Recent?”

“Eight years, roughly.” And something flickered through his eyes as he pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. “It is what it is, I guess. But B has us so far in the public eye that doing what we can to pass is something we’ve gotten used to. As a consequence, Tim never got rid of his coffee addiction, and I know what doesn’t exactly taste like shit in places like this.”

“Huh, isn’t that bad for you?”

“We’ll find out eventually.”

“Okay, so, does any of the stuff you… consume, actually taste okay. Or does it taste bad and you just judge things on a scale of one to ten on horrific levels-”

“It’s more like bland levels. Some things still have flavour. But most of it, it’s just whelming.”

Whelming?

He felt his lips pull upwards as he shook his head. “I supposed that’s better than being underwhelmed.”

“The hell are you two talking about?” Connor dropped back down into his chair, looking confused.

“Being whelmed by drinks.”

Connor blinked, and looked between the two of them. “That’s exactly what I thought I heard, and it still makes zero sense.”

“Grammer fucking with Dick Grayson, and how to confuse your local ex-brawler. A two-part novella.”

Slowly, Connor’s gaze moved to lock onto Wally. “I don’t know why I hang out with you.”

“Uh, because it’s me or the archers. And given that Clark inexplicably put them together on a mission this morning, I’m probably you’re best - if not only - option.” Pausing, he cocked his head to the side. “Actually, Bart and Cassie are an option. They’ve taken to hanging out at Starbucks, you like their cheese and mushroom croissants don’t you?”

The face the young man pulled made Wally burst out laughing.

“I thought we agreed to never bring that up.”

“Man, I just could res-”

A young blue eyes, dark haired boy appeared at the table, cutting Wally off. His lips were pulled into a frown, and his eyes were on Dick.

“Bruce wants you home.”

Dick frowned. “Is this about Dami or -”

“Neither.” The boy looked almost uncomfortable. “It’s about your new visitor.”

Wally didn’t need to see Dick’s eyes to see the confusion bloom across the Vampires face.

“What visitor?”

“Kaldur.”

Chapter Text

When his eyes flickered open all he could focus on was the pain. The sharp agony that vibrates through his ribcage. His hearts stuttering inability to find a regulated pace; tearing between agonisingly slow beats every other second, to wildly beating so fast it felt as if the muscle was trying to move at lightspeed.

“The process...” The voice was vaguely, hauntingly, familiar. “It can take a little while. I wasnt going to gift you with such an experience, but Vandal wants to make sure I can replicate my greatest achievement.”

His mind tried to boot into action. Tried to figure out what kind of ‘achievement' the voice could possibility be talking about.

Struggling to suck in a gasp, his heart felt as though it was ready to burst at a moment’s notice; and the only thing his soul told him to try and care about was the sobbing on his left.

“Please? Leave him alone.”

The voice was too familiar. Too young. Too scared.
There was only one coherent thought in his mind.

“B-Ba-Bart?”

The sobbing seemed to fade. Immediately, Wally tried to open his eyes, to meet the electric green of his cousins.

“Jay!” Was all the younger cried out.

And Wally? Wally was so confused. He had been so sure that it had just been himself and Barry trapped in the Pit.

“Its gonna kill Jay.”

By the Angel he wished he knew what was going on. But his brain was more focused on the agony. On the crippling pain coursing through his system. It was too much that he could no longer even try too focus on Barts distress. All he could focus on was the quickening of his lightspeed heartbeat, and the painfully slow drip of tears down Barts cheeks.

His brain felt as though it was aching. As if there was a change in each cell; as if the way he worked was altering by the second. And as he looked at Bart his mind felt as though it was tearing apart. His cousins mouth seemed to tremble in slow motion,; and when he tried to talk, it was so slow that Wally could not understand a word he was trying to say.

“Kaldur?” He swallowed, looking at the Atlatean. “Its been a while.”

“My friend.” Kaldur's hand rested on Wally's shoulder, sincerity blooming through his eyes. “How have you been keeping? Has everything-" he paused, looking at the company around them. “Settled?”

Where Wally would be without Kaldur, Tula, or Garth he did not know. What he was sure of however, was that it was not a place he wanted to imagine. The Fae of Atlantis had gone above and beyond for him and his family. That was something he could never repay.

“Comes and goes. Barry thinks it might just all be in my head sometimes.”

Kaldur nodded, and he could feel Dick, Connor, and half of the Wayne Clans eyes burning into the two of them. The Atlantean did not seem phased in the slightest.

“I would think so. All you are is in there.” A soft smile graced the mans face. “You’re worth more than you seem to believe you are, Wallace.”

Part of him resisted a grimace at the use of Wallace, while the rest of him wanted to ignore the stark truth that had been thrown at him. Being called out so blatantly in front of Bruce Wayne of all people wasn't exactly what he wanted in life.

“You'll get there, my friend. If you even need help with stabilising yourself, you know where to find me. Not everything can be cured over night.”

“So long as I never reach the point I was at when we met, I think I'll be okay. I've got control over myself more often than not. It's only if I lose focus on the moment that I can get stuck.”

“Does Bart suffer from the same problem?”

“Bart's the only one who doesn't. Might be because of the whole teenage brain thing. If he hit puberty after it happened, then isn’t his already adapting mind going to develop wi-"

“Alright.” Connors voice boomed through the Wayne Manor entrance hall. “Do you two want to stop talking in code and give some kind of explanation to the rest of the class.”

Turning around, Connor had his arms folded across his chest and his jaw clenched. Dick was watching them through curious eyes while there was something knowing on Bruce Wayne’s face.

His stomach twisted at the sudden realisation that there was a strong chance Bruce knew. And if Bruce knew then-

“If Wallace has not yet told you of his condition, then I do believe that is none of your concern.”

And what?

“Secrets tend to be kept for a reason. And I suspect this is one that is paramount to the safety of five lives.” The understanding in Bruce’s voice seemed to suddenly drop cold. “You cannot get mad at Wallace for keeping his secret, when you refuse to share your own, Nephilim.”

Something akin to confirmation clicked in Wally's mind. Connor was like him. Bruce knew it. Wally had suspected it-

“Perhaps we should move on. Kaldur, what brings you to Gotham?” Dick took over, giving Wally a curious look while moving closer to Kaldur.

“Black Manta.” Kaldurs voice was grave as he spoke. He escaped our clutches, I tracked him here and followed him out to an abandoned warehouse near the docks. There he met with Slade Wilson, Lawrence Crock, Lex Luthor, and Zoom.”

There was a sudden strange energy in the room, before Wally could say anything Tim cut in.
“Manta. Slade. Luthor. Zoom. And Crock? That's a bit odd.”

“They’re all members of the Light.” Connor retorted. “How’s that odd?”

“Manta traumatised Kaldur. Slade traumatised Dick. Luthor traumatised You. Zoom traumatised Wally. Crock traumatised Artemis. Aren't all five of you investigating the same thing as well? Who's dealing Yin Fen?”

Wally swallowed, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and the weird coincidence.

“I mean. Personally? I’m trying to find someone who’s taking Yin Fen.”

Dick and Connor both shot him a look, he just simply kept his eyes on Tim.

“Wow. Here I thought you only existed in Starbucks.”

Bart leaned against the wall, eyes focused on the white haired girl in front of him. She was looking paler than usual, and she wasn't dressed in uniform. A black leather jacket over a red top. It almost made him worried about how seemingly washed out it made her look.

“Do you not have a job or something to go to kid?”

“How'd you know I’m not working right now?”

Her jaw seemed to clench and he knew he was overstepping a lot of boundaries. Mundanes were supposed to live their normal lives without dealing with Shadowhunters. But she seemed pretty cool, and Bart was starved for normalcy. If she told him to straight up fuck off, he would. But his gut was screaming at him to stay and wait.

Wait for what? He wasn’t all too sure.

Silvery blue eyes were watching him carefully, as if she wasn’t sure how to take him.

He frowned, cocking his head to the side for a second.

The silver was more prominent in her eyes. Before he could ask if she had heterochromia, there was a scuttle, an inhuman screech and a crash. Sighing, he let his head fall to the side and batter off the bricked wall for a second.

Because he hadn't actually been lying. He was working.

“Well, that's my queue.” Mocking a bow, he turned to jog back towards the buildings entrance.

Killing a small group of low threat demons in a shitty downtown warehouse was a pathetic excuse of a mission, but one. He got to do it himself, and 2. He supposed that at least he was doing something.
Bouncing in to the warehouse, he began looking around. Eyes hunting past the boxes and crates, he activated his blade with one hand and grabbed his stele with the other; and made to activate his Angel rune.

Pausing, his lips pulled into a frown.

It was already activated.

But he had just seen and spoken to a mundane.
If she was a Downworlder he would know. Would have already picked up on the different scent. Knew how to tell the difference between mundanes and Downworlders with ease. And the lack of runes meant there was no way she was a Shadowhunter.
So ho-

Something slammed into his side and he let out a yelp as he flew across the warehouse.

The group of small demons turned out to be one ugly ass demon.

It scuttled after him, red dripping down its seven large, sticky legs. Three eyes were blinking in different directions as it let out another screech.
Moving to grab his blade he hissed in frustration.
Of fucking course he dropped it.

Glancing around he saw his stele and blade lying near a couple of crates.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breathe and let a small smile tug at his lips.

It was him. Just him. There was no other Shadowhunter around to catch him. No snitching Downworlder to rat him out. It was him, a disgusting demon, and all the time in the world.

Slowly letting the air out past his lips, he pushed himself up

And ran.

Before he could grab his sereph blade however, pale fingers wrapped around the handle.

He skidded unexpectedly, watching almost in awe as the blade activated. His heart pounded in horror, as Rose turned and used one hand to throw it to him and another to pull out a long blade of her own.
Everything that followed was unspoken.

He picked up his stele, and the two of them took on a demon that grew a fourth eye and used one of its seven legs as a seeming tale. Trying to bash one or both of its opponents by swinging it around.
Making a quick and executive decision, Bart decided that since Rose had already seen him move at lightspeed, he would continue to do so. And nothing about it seemed to phase her, as if she had seen him do it a million times before. As if she was used to him simply being him. But him? He was glad he had his speed because it meant he could easily hide his surprise when he saw how skilled she was with a sword.

And between the two of them de-legging the demon, and Rose burying her blade through the creatures eyes. They won.

And she coughed.

Just once at first.

But then she turned, opened her mouth to speak, and coughed again. And again.

And again.

Until she was desperately sucking in air, and doubling over.

He moved fast, the urgency racing through him as she struggled. Catching her before her knees hit the ground so he could lower her down gently.

Placing a hand on her back he rubbed, his heart racing faster than ever because he didnt know what to do. And her hands were shaking in an attempt to move.

Body racking and convulsing, and yet she was attempting to get into her jacket pocket.

He was smart enough to know to help.

So he opened her pocket and pulled out bother her keys and a small black metallic, circular box.

Opening it, his heart stopped as she dipped a finger into the pure silver powder. His heart felt as if it was slowing down, as if his world was slowing down, as he watched in horror as she sucked the powder off her finger – blood dripping down her chin, tears streaming down her face.

The coughing didn’t stop instantly, but when it did all he could do was meet her eyes, trying not to show how much fear and panic he felt.

“Rose-"

“I'll keep your secret,” she rasped out, sucking in a deep breathe before she continued. “If you keep mine.”

Nodding, he swallowed.

Lifting a hand, he used his sleeve to wipe the blood from her face.

Yin Fen was Wally's current mission. Finding a dealer. An addict. Someone who could tell him something about anything, and there he was, kneeling next to their best chance at figuring something out.

“You got yourself a deal.”

Wally would have to find someone else.

Chapter Text

The problem is that sometimes, no matter how fast you are, you cannot outrun certain things.

Like possibly destroying the friendship you have with a local Warlock who wants nothing to do with the life you lead. Raven was important to Gar. Had been from the moment he first pissed her off, then watched her try not to smile after he won her a stuffed chicken as an apology. Cracking jokes at strangers didn't always end well, he had lucked the hell out with befriending her. They struggled to get on at first, but he was persistent. She seemed sad and lonely, and it turned out he was right. She was sad and lonely. He liked to think she liked their friendship as much as he did.

But he was also heavily involved in the goings on in the Shadow World. His sister, his best friends, almost everyone he interacted with- it was all he was at times. Raven worked in a library and liked to be normal . Mundane. 

And Gar had spent so, so long trying to respect that.

So when Ra's had spoken to him in Whole Foods. When Tim had spoken to him in Whole Foods, he knew. 

Raven was right, he did have a target on his back. As long as he kept plotting and preparing. As long as he worked with Vic in trying to help tear down the Light- 

Anyone he was friends with would be in danger. And Raven? Raven did not deserve that. She did not want that life .

And he had broken that rule. Had crossed that line because he was greedy and wanted to keep her in his life, rather than respecting her wishes and being kept separate from it. The right thing to do would have been to step away, to stop trying to befriend someone who did not wish to have a werewolf as a friend.

And Ra's had seen her. Had looked at her. Had inferred that he loved her - which, Gar did not want to think too much on. But if Ra's thought that, whether it was true or not, it put Raven in more danger than Gar could fathom.

"Gar."

He was an idiot.

A selfish idiot.

Clearly, everyone was right about him. He was stupid. Someone who never thought anything through. He wasn't good enough to be able to help or save anyone.

" Garfield ."

Blinking, he turned his head.

The car had stopped somewhere. He honestly wasn't too sure where they were. But Raven still had her seat belt plugged in place, one hand on the steering wheel. Her whole body had turned though, while she was looking at him.

"Stop ignoring me."

The frown on his face deepened. "I'm not?" 

"I've been trying to talk to you for the last five minutes, Gar." She looked upset, and it twisted in his stomach. 

His chest ached as the band around his lungs tightened. "Sorry." Sucking in a breath, he leaned his head back against the headrest, turning to stare out the windshield. "I wasn't ignoring you." His voice sounded too small.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" 

"Because you don't-"

"Gar. There is a difference between Downworld politics, and you being in danger ."

"I hate to break it to you Raven, but those two things are a lot more closely linked than you'd care to think."

She was quiet for a moment, and he could feel his heart dropping. Hear it beating heavily in his ears.

"You said your best friend was in danger too. Vic?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's uh-" closing his eyes, he could feel them burning. Burning like the pain in his lungs as he tried to breathe. Slowly, steadily. Trying not to struggle, no matter how hard it hurt.

"What is going on?" She sounded nervous, and unsure. It killed him a little, and he wanted to sob.

"Don't worry about it."

"Don- How ? How am I supposed to not worry about this?"

"Easy." He swallowed, sucking in as deep a breath as he could muster, before turning to meet her gaze. "Drop me off, drive home. Forget about it."

The look she gave him was withering, and he could see her hand tighten around the steering wheel. "Forget about it? Gar, how am I-"

"Go home, Raven. And forget about it. All of it. You said you wanted to go to Uni in Jump City, right?" And her eyes started to widen. "Maybe you shouldn't put that sort of thing off. It's a much nicer place than Gotham."

The shattering of the rear view mirror startled him. 

"You want me to leave Gotham, and forget about everything? You, Vic? That's years of friendship, Gar." 

"I think it should be pretty easy to forget about someone who just put you on one of the most dangerous men on the planet's radar. You do not want to be involved in any of this. And it was stupid of me to think I could be your friend and keep you uninvolved. Now you are. He saw you and he spoke to you." He could feel himself shake. Feel the burning in his cells, the screaming agony of change. "I don't care about what he does to me. But you are not safe here Raven. And I'm sorry. I am so-"

It burned.

The sound of something cracking filled the air. He wasn't sure whether it was from him, or part of the car.

He burned .

He could feel the popping of a joint. Perhaps it was his shoulder? His elbow? Maybe it was both. His jaw screamed, and when his hands grabbed his skull he could feel the claws dig into his skin, just like he could feel the fangs digging out from his gums.

He needed out of the car.

Needed to get away. Far, far away from Raven.

But before he could move, two much softer hands grabbed his own.

The pain subsided much faster than it had started.

It didn't stop him from panting from the pressure of the almost change. Didn't stop the tears flooding down his cheeks. But all he focused on was the soft hands wrapped around his own, and the odd sense of calm that he knew wasn't his own.

"You need to tell me what's going on, Garfield." He wanted to argue, but he couldn't find the will. Couldn't feel anything except the steady flow of calm. "But I really think you need to sleep first. It'll help you feel better." 

It was almost a surprise when everything went black, and he instantly fell asleep.

*****

"Do you think it is the warehouse?"

Tim almost jumped out of his own skin. Damian was far too good at sneaking up on people - particularly Tim. Though living in a Manor full of Vampires would probably do that to someone.

"What?"

Reflected through the computer screen, he could see Damian fold his arms and raise a brow.

"The Warehouse, Drake. The one Kaldur mentioned. Do you think it is the same one ?"

Sighing, he closed over the laptop. Turning on the couch so he could actually face Damian. "I don't know. And quite frankly, that's Dicks business. I have a million and one other things to be doing."

"Like investigating a Cult?"

"Like trying to figure out why the hell your grandfather was loitering in Whole Foods ."

Damian scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. My grandfather would never step foot in Whole Foods."

Yeah. That is exactly what Tim would have said if anyone had ever told him 'hey, guess who I saw in Whole Foods, Ra's Al Ghul'. Has the man ever done his own shopping?

Yet Gar had said 'Jaime didn't believe me', while they were in the store. Which meant it was a. Not the first time Ra's had been there. And b. Not the first time Gar had seen him there. Which was what worried Tim.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone would say the same thing." Tim huffed. "But funnily enough he had a chat with Garfield Logan in the tea and coffee aisle. And it's not the first time Gar has seen him there. He was terrified."

"Obviously." Damian scoffed. "Grandfather is keeping tabs on him, that should terrify anyone."

Gar wasn't the first person in Gotham Ra's had ever kept tabs on. He was, however, the first person Ra's had went to fucking Whole Foods for. Which was terrifying in and of itself.

"What is he up to?"

"With Grandfather no one ever knows."

Tim rolled his eyes and let his head fall back, as a sigh slid past his lips. "Not Ra's, Damian. Garfield ."

"Tt."

"What can he possibly be doing that your Grandfather would actually enter a shop over?"

"Are we now going to be stalking the Lycan as well?" 

Stalking? 

Okay, first of all, Tim did not stalk people. He just liked to occasionally observe and learn absolutely everything about every situation so he could be well informed on things. Observing Garfield however, would not work.

"That would not end well."

"Because he would smell you?"

Tim glared at Damian.

"Because your grandfather is already stalking him." Moving so that he could rest his arms over the back of the couch, he frowned. "If we suddenly started investigating Gar, Ra's would absolutely find out." Looking up, he met Damians eyes. "And in case you are forgetting, Ra's is not allowed to know you are here ." 

"So what exactly is your plan?"

Tim sucked in a deep, unnecessary breath. "I'm going to hang out with him." 

"My grandfather? He would be so thrilled."

Tim almost snapped back, thinking for the briefest moment that Damian was being serious. But the boys lips quirked ever so minutely, and Tim huffed.

"No, dumbass. Gar's… sociable. I'm sure if I offer help, maybe he will tell me what he's doing. And then, whatever Ra's is doing can be stopped ."

"The Lycan might be sociable, Drake. But you? Are most certainly not." 

That wasn't even true. He had friends. 

He would have retorted, but telling Damian he had no friends would be straight up cruel. It wasn't actually his fault. Maybe if he was allowed out to go to school or something, he would have formed some kind of social circle - and have developed some social skills on top of that. Unfortunately for all of them, they will never actually know what would have happened.

"Or at least you have not been, since you came here." 

Perhaps the brat did have a point there.

But still, Ra's stalking a Lycan didn't sit right with him. No matter what Gar may be up to, there was something off about Ra's Al Ghul keeping tabs on him. Surely, if Gar was being a pest, Ra's would have just killed him . But to be keeping tabs?

Something about Gar interested Ra's. So much so, that the man was willing to go to Whole Foods, and talk to him.

"Honestly, I don't understand what Gar could have done to attract his attention."

The Lycan was a joker. A fun guy who seemed to enjoy hanging out with his friends, and occasionally breaking a rule or two. But only rules, he wasn't the sort of person to break law. And from what Tim knew, he wasn't the sort of person to get into real, serious trouble.

At least, that's what he had assumed. Yet from the brief conversation in Whole Foods- Gar was up to something .

Doing what needs to be done . He had said. But what did it mean? 

He was telling the truth when he said he didn't do anything that Bruce would get involved in- which just made it all the more confusing from where Tim was stood.

To attract the attention of Ra's but not Bruce? Even unintentionally-

"This is going to make you even more insufferable to be around."

"It doesn't confuse you?"

"Of course it does. But I do not suffer from your chronic obsession."

"Which is totally why you stalked me -"

"I did not stalk you."

"Yes. You did. That is exactly what-"

"God, do you two ever stop." Steph walked into the room, a mug of warmed blood in hand.

"Drake has decided he wants to be sociable. He has chosen to befriend Garfield Logan."

"You've made a friend?" Stephs eyes widened. 

Before he could say anything, Damian solemnly shook his head. "Not yet. He's attempting it though."

"Damian." He gritted out. "I am going to stake you."

"Tt. Don't be ridiculous. I am not a vampire."

"I'm pretty sure staking a Nephilim through the heart would kill them just as much as it would kill a vampire. If you're unconvinced, we can always test it out."

*****

"Why's it always us?" 

Wally spun in the chair. They were at a library. And Connor was outright glaring at the computer.

"What are you on about? I'm pretty sure this is the first time the four of us have ever done anything together." 

"And yet I am impressively already exhausted by this bullshit." He spun in the chair again. "My question still stands. Whys it always us? Like, I've been here how long? Three days? And already- it's just-" waving his arms around, to attempt to make a point.

"You know, I wrongly assumed you would grow out of the dramatics." 

"Connor." He leaned forward to meet the others' piercing gaze. "If I ever grow out of being a fun guy, kill me." Leaning back in the chair, he shook his head. "Actually, just kill me. Like, let's get it over with." 

"We did not spend months on healing you, for you to arrange your own assassination, Wallace." 

Wally looked at Kaldur, who had been looking over Dicks shoulder. 

"I kind of thought I'd be spending the rest of my life in Central back then, my dude. Three days in Gotham-"

"You have not been here for three days." Connor huffed.

"It's been less?" Wally asked in mock shock.

"I can't find it." Dick said, changing the subject. 

Apparently, they were teaming up with Kaldur now in an attempt to figure out what was going on, and why the worst people each of them had ever met were hanging out in old warehouses. Kaldur had shown them a symbol that Black Manta had been carrying on him. A symbol both Wally and Connor had confirmed was absolutely not a rune. 

And one both Wally and Connor had seen before. Both at different times, and it was something that made Wally feel a little curious, and very apprehensive. 

"Maybe it's a Cult." 

"Not everything is a Cult."

"I'm just saying dude. It's a lil weird that it's cropped back up now. And given what happened the last time I saw that symbol, I'm just saying- Cult. It's got the vibe."

"And what exactly did happen last time you saw that symbol?"

"Stuff." 

"Stuff? Seriously?"

"What did you expect me to say? I was fishing? Stuff happened. It always happens. Like this, right here, right now. It's stuff ."

Connor let out a frustrated groan.

And Wally? Wally really felt like letting himself fall out of the four story window. The only downside to that would be he probably wouldn't actually die, and all his bones would heal wrong before he got any medical help. Which would mean they would have to rebreak them all, and that is an exhausting process. It's not exactly like anaesthesia works on him. Not with his metabolism.

"Stuff I actually don't want to deal with." The words were out of his mouth and his body was moving before his brain could catch up.

"Not right now. I've got other shit to do."

"Like what?" Connor snapped after him.

"Like other fucking stuff."

He could feel it, the slow build. He had tried to get used to suppressing it. The need to speed up. But sometimes- sometimes he couldn't help it. The way each and every cell in his body just started to vibrate. And he couldn't exactly have that happen in the middle of Gothams biggest library.

He also couldn't just run out of the building. 

If he was lucky - and he doubted it, not with the rage building in Connor - he could get out of the building and away. Hide away somewhere that he can just break .

The moment he Kaldur showed that symbol, he knew. Knew that everything was going to fall apart.

When Connor confirmed he had seen it too- 

They were two different people. Connor had been such an angry teenager, that it wasn't really a surprise that he was snapping, and snapping, and getting ready to blow. Trauma is trauma. And if Connors experience with that fucking symbol was anything like Wally's, then the two of them in the same place was a bad idea.

Both of them exploding was help to no one.

Half an hour later, and Wally was at the harbour. Feet in the icy water, hands digging into his thighs as he desperately tried to stop the blurring. The mundanes couldn't see him, but anyone else would be confused by a person vibrating .

"He's uh, a pretty angry guy when he wants to be, huh?"

"I don't think it's a want." Wallys squished his hands between his thighs, trying to hide his failing attempts at stopping himself from shaking like a vibrating leaf. "People all react differently."

"To trauma?" Dick dropped down next to him, and Wally couldn't even be bothered asking how he had found him.

"Yeah. He was always so angry after he was rescued." Sighing, he shook his head. "Guess I'm just assuming things though. Unless he says otherwise, I can only guess where he saw that fucking thing before." 

"And you?" There was a pause, and Wally could practically feel the gaze on his squished hands. "I'm guessing it has something to do with that speed no one is supposed to know about."

Huffing out a half laugh, he looked up. "Yeah. That'd be right."

"Who does actually know? Other than me, Kaldur, and apparently Bruce."

"My aunt and Uncle, Bart, Hal. Everyone at Central, I think. It's like an open secret there. No one has told the Clave. Who knows what they'd do if they found out."

"And some other fae?"

"The Atlantian gateway is in Central. That counts as part of Central. Like I said, it's an open secret there." 

"It's how you know what that Symbol is though. Right? Whatever happe-"

"Yeah. Cult shit."

Dick seemed thoughtful for a moment. "You're serious about that?"

Wally snorted. "I'm a lot of things, the kind of person to make shit up about the worst thing to ever happen to me though? Yeah. That's not who I am." 

"There's this asshole, Slade."

Trying not to roll his eyes as Dick paused, he looked at the Vampire next to him. Dick however, was staring out over the harbour, yet he didn't really seem to be seeing anything that was there. 

"You've heard of him. I'm pretty sure most of the Shadow World has. But, the first time I met him, I had not. It wasn't like I was super young, but I had just turned twenty. Life was pretty good. Figured I would follow in my parents footsteps, join the circus after I graduated college, spend my life being an acrobat. It was fun, and I enjoyed it. It helped me feel closer to them.

"One night the circus was in town, and I always visit Haleys. The man's like an uncle to me. Or, he was." 

Wally felt himself swallow, watching as Dick seemed to be remembering things that maybe, Wally shouldn't be privy too.

"First time I met Slade. He just seemed like a normal guy with some weird tattoos. The second time I met him, he was threatening Haley, and I stupidly got involved. Well, it wasn't stupid. Someone needed to do it. But- it meant I met Slade a third time. And I died. He was wearing this mask. Half black, half bronze. And in the centre of the forehead, there was this small red symbol. I've had a lot of dealing with him since. After he found out I hadn't truly kicked the bucket, he was adamant I train his daughter. Was absolutely obsessed with it. I've never seen him wear that mask again, but-" Suddenly Dick was looking at him, understanding in his eyes. "I get it. It was the last thing I saw before I crawled out of my own damn grave. Its not- its not the kind of thing you forget."

"Trauma." Wally mused. "It's a right bitch."

"It is." Dick agreed, looking back out across the harbour. Knocking their shoulders together, a small smile tugged at his lips. "You you're not alone with it."