Archive of Our Own ^beta

It is a dark and stormy Halloween night when the Demon is summoned to a large echoey house in Bristol, just outside of Gotham proper. Lightning intermittently flashes off the glass window panes, accompanied by claps of bone-rattling thunder. Demon has been to this neighborhood often, dealing in greed, pride, and other such abundant sins. Demon looks around for the summoner and finds no one but a thin frail child. His wide blue eyes are set deep into his gaunt cheeks. The child is tiny. Too young to have been powerful enough to summon a great Demon, surely. But there is no other soul present in the home. So it must be him.

The young boy conveys such surprise that he takes a step back. Demon cannot return the gesture as he is bound by the summoning circle. He does not look like Constantine. He does bear a passing resemblance to Klarion, but his demeanor does not convey unrestrained chaos. This boy is very restrained. His posture is rigid. His expression is carefully made neutral. Smart boy, revealing nothing to Demon. Perhaps he is of the fae? What mortal could be powerful enough to evoke such magic at such a young age? And where is his kin? If he were human, there should be supervisors of the offspring. Demon is almost sure that is how humans work.

The boy slowly approaches Demon and greets him. “Hello! Are you the friend I asked for?” The boy inquires. “I tried a spell to summon an unseen friend. Perhaps my translation is off. What is your name?” Demon hums. Best not to give your name to fae. “I am called Demon.” Demon answers evasively. “Is there something I should call you?” The boy cracks a timid smile. “I’m Tim! Wanna play gin rummy? Ms. Mac used to play it with me before she died and her ghost doesn’t visit anymore ‘cuz she went to heaven or somethin’ so I need someone to play with.” Tim grabs Demon by the hand and leads him out of the summoning circle. “Gin… rummy?” Demon asks. He knows of gin. He knows of rum. But something about the phrase suggests that perhaps this is something that Demon does not yet know. The being called Tim pauses. “That’s okay, Demon. I can teach ya!”
The being called Tim continues leading Demon throughout the home. Windows boarded. Candles are the only source of light. Not like any of the structures Demon has seen humans occupy before. They are usually more … habitable than this one. Demon analyzes Tim’s appearance once again. He is covered in scars. Are they from other humans or does the child practice much self-sacrifice in his magic works? Demon is deeply concerned.
“Being called Tim, please tell me about yourself.” Demon phrases it as a request, for he does not want to be at the receiving end of his wrath. Powerful beings have incredible wrath, usually. Tim looks at Demon curiously. “Whaddya wanna know?” Demon hums, thinking. “Whatever you wish to willingly share, child.” A loud growl from the boy’s stomach interrupts them before he can answer. Demon chuckles. “Why don’t we table that until after a meal?” Tim nods and hands Demon a strange wrapped rectangle. “A protein bar” the boy supplies. This is not a meal. Demon hands the bar back to the boy and begins to rummage through the cabinets.
Finally, after sorting through much expired muck, Demon finds a few measly spuds. “These shall do. Where is your water so that I might wash them?” Tim brightens. “I boil it over the fire, the old taps don’t work well but enough water usually comes when I summon it.” He quickly summons water into a pot and then summons fire in the decrepit fireplace in the other room. Tim sits the pot on the flames to boil.

Together, Tim and Demon wash, cut, and prepare the spuds. Demon shows Tim how to cook them in the cast iron pot with plenty of seasoning and herbs. The young boy giggles at the explanations and cackles when their meal is ready. “It’s like with a cauldron but yummier! Thank you Demon!” Tim hugs Demon. Demon has not been hugged by a human before. It feels nice. He cannot ignore how small the child is. So breakable. Demon should protect him. “You are most welcome, Tim. But please, tell me about yourself. Where are your…” Demon pauses to remember the word, “parents?” Tim supplies. Demon nods.
“Well they kept doing stuff and asking why I didn’t die and some of it hurt so I told them to leave. I think they’re scared of me. Ms. Mac stuck around though! She was great and her ghost stayed too after that robber killed her. Well, I couldn’t let her be stuck with me forever so I helped her pass on.” Demon tilts his head in question. “What do you mean they hurt you?” Tim squirmed. “Uh they kinda kept tryin’ to kill me. A whole buncha different ways. Like fire. Or one time they shot me. Oh another time they hanged me. Or is it hung? I can never remember.” Demon lets Tim trail off in thoughts of grammar. Demon knows relatively little about humans but he knows that no living creature should treat their spawn like that. “It is a good thing you have me now, Tim.” Demon says, hoping it sounds comforting to the child. Tim’s grin takes over most of his face. “Can I treat you gin rummy?” Demon agrees and they spend the rest of the night learning card games and playing for more details about Tim.

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In Demon’s short time with the one called Tim, Demon has learned a great many things. He has learned that Ms. Mac was a very good person who fought to protect the boy from his parents’ attempts on his life. She died saving the boy. The Drakes have not been back to Gotham since. Her spirit lingered, wanting to care for the child. Tim sent her on to her afterlife. Demon has also learned a great many things about Tim. He does not like liars. He flaps his arms when he gets excited. Tim prefers simple meals over complicated ones. Tim can grow his own herbs for spells in his greenhouse. Apparently, his friend Ivy helped him set it up. Tim protects everything he owns in more runes and spells than Demon has ever seen, in languages long since forgotten even by Hell itself. When Demon asks why, Tim just stares off into space and tells Demon that he “has his reasons.” Tim does not elaborate. And Demon does not push. It would defeat the purpose of being on Tim’s good side when he inevitably takes over all the known realms of existence. Besides, Demon wasn’t doing a lot else anyway. Someone has to supervise this grade schooler so he doesn’t kill the All-God before being ready to take its place.

Tim has shown incredible talent in nearly all forms of magic. His creativity knows no bounds. Demon would appreciate it if Tim used it for more than just following around Batman and Robin or hexing adults into not noticing his abandonment. Tim calls this his “jedi mind trick” but Demon does not yet understand the reference. Tim attends school with children his age, many of whom mind his appearance. Demon thinks Tim dresses well for a child mage of his skill and ability but the humans, apparently, mind. Tim seems to like school and it gives Demon more time to tempt the corrupt souls of Gotham into wonderfully horrid deals. Tim cares for Demon and Demon cares for the boy. It is a nice arrangement. Certainly nicer than any agreement he’s made with a human for millenia. Maybe Demon should apply for familiar status? Then he can appear whenever Tim calls and even provide the boy extra protection. That would nullify some of Demon’s greatest worries. He cannot always protect Tim, especially when separated over great distances. Demon does feel a sudden shift in the weather and knows that something is amiss. Tim’s mood has been impacting the weather ever since he turned nine. Demon has not heard of a mage developing this great power so early. Most only manage control over the atmosphere at advanced ages such as 100 or more. Tim is the biggest overachiever that Demon has ever met so he guesses that this tracks. Tim does things his way.

Winds buffer and bluster throughout Gotham, ever conjuring a few small water spouts. Tim does not allow them to make landfall and do harm. Tim tries to never do harm. It is one of Demon’s favorite qualities of the boy called Tim. Tim does enter the manor in a huff, his face beet red. Demon is unsure what to do. Lightning strikes a nearby tree and causes it to crack and explode into thousands of razor sharp slivers. Uh oh. Tim flicks a finger at the hearth and the fire roars in response, jumping to life and warming the house.
“Tim, what has happened?” Demon asks.
Tim stills. “I was tricked. Humiliated. Invited only to be the butt of a bullies piss poor excuse of a joke.” He seethes.
Demon holds back the impulse to murder the offending child who dared hurt his witch. “And what did you do to him?” Demon inquires. Surely, the consequences would make for such a good story. The air stills, static electricity holding fibers taunt in the air.
“Nothing. I ran away and cried.” Tim whispers, ashamed. Demon wraps a large clawed hand around Tim’s shoulders. “Oh mage. Let me kill them for you, please?” He hums.
Tim shakes his head. “I want him to hurt but I will not do him harm. And neither will you, Demon!” Tim is sure. Demon can hear it. “Perhaps we can topple his life then?” Demon suggests, hopeful. Tim hums, thinking. After a moment, Tim concedes his plan has merit. “What would you have me do?” Demon thinks, plotting. “Frame them for murder?” He tries. Tim shakes his head, “That will never work. They’d just pay it off.” Tim thinks, his expression the one reserved for pondering deeds of great importance. Demon hopes Tim made this expression before his summoning.
“Perhaps you could ensure they aren’t home. Then I could prestidigitation some wax paper into the oven and turn it on. It is one of the most common tools used by arsonists and the insurance investigators will catch it easily.” Tim muses. Demon grins. “That would be excellent, mage. I’ll see to it that they are out by midnight tonight.” And Demon does.

When the smoldering remains are uncovered the next morning, by the light of a rare sunny morning in Gotham, the family is taken aside for questioning. Tim returns from school, all smiles and with a new book he managed to buy in a shop downtown. Medicinal magic seems like such child’s play to Demon. But, then again, Tim is still a child. Tim insists in nursing back to health injured animals, birds mostly, that he finds in the yard. The animals must sense the safety because soon animals of all types begin appearing in the back of the property. They present their injuries willingly. Tim expends great magic healing them without a thought to using that power for his own gain.

Tim also begins stopping to help the injured when he drags Demon along on patrol. Some nights, Tim leaves his camera behind intentionally. Says he needs the extra space in his bag for salves, ointments, tinctures, and other such tools to heal various injuries of the homeless of Gotham. It took a long time to get folks to trust Tim but once they did, the injuries flooded his way like a ruptured dam. It is all Demon can do to keep the police and others from finding Tim. So many undercover sting operations. Demon can sense when they approach with dishonesty. And Tim’s ability to detect it is growing as well.

Eventually, Tim begins assisting Dr. Leslie in her clinic once a week. People try to pay him but Tim never takes the money. He will accept an exchange of food or clothes. Once, when his boots were so worn out that Tim literally duct taped them to his feet, a cobbler gifted Tim a new pair of leather boots. Solid rubber soles with reinforced steel eyelets. Shined to perfection. Tim wore them proudly. Tim has healed the man’s wife of cancer the month prior and he still swings by to chat every now and then. His daughter Stephanie seems to have a crush on Tim but he is much too intent on his work to notice.

Before long, Tim and Demon are making sigils on various buildings in Gotham. Brick works best. Someone injured can press the sigil, repeat a specific phrase, to summon Tim. Demon insists that he always come as well. Tim allows him to “tag along.” Demon must begrudgingly accept that this child has him wrapped around his little finger. The sigils are complex magic. They take time and effort to construct. They are meant to last as long as the symbol stays intact. Demon wonders just how long Tim will be the healer of Gothamites. The more Demon learns about humans, the greater his disdain. Why not help your own kind? Why leave people to die over something as simple and stupid as money? Demon will never understand. Perhaps that is why he has enjoyed exploiting greed and other sins for thousands of years. Perhaps that is why he sticks with Tim. Tim helps. He stays. He puts himself at risk and expends his resources and asks for little to nothing in return. Usually just secrecy. “You never saw us. We were never here. Dr. Leslie helped you out, alright?” Most folks reply by stuffing their meager cash back in their pockets and bail. Tim has a soft spot for the children of Gotham. That soft spot gets Tim into trouble often.

Demon and Tim are finishing up their assistance at the clinic one night when a woman rushes in, distraught. Her child blue lipped and cold. The baby is tiny, probably a newborn. Demon feels great sadness and grief flow from her as she wails in a language that Demon does not speak. Tim steps forward. Leslie comforts the woman, trying to find someone willing to translate. Tim, meanwhile, rocks the baby in his arms and hums under his breath. Purple and blue lights dance through the air and the ground shakes gently. A sharp cry from the baby’s mouth follows and Tim grins up at the mother. “Here you go. She’s alright. Just lost for a minute there.” He murmurs as he hands her back to her mother. Leslie insists on doing a full workup, free of charge. While she, the mother, and the newly resurrected child disappear into one of the rooms, the others in the waiting room begin to whisper and stare. Tim takes it in stride. Demon is furious. His boy just brought back the dead and they have the gall to be disgusted? Demon wants to kill them. He looks to Tim who gives him a warning look. Right. Tim made him promise not to do any harm unless it was in defense of another or himself from a direct threat. Tim has bound Demon to that promise for Tim’s lifetime. That was probably a bad deal on Demon’s part. But he can’t find it in himself to regret it. The onlookers begin to disperse, whispering in mixed awe and horror at the act they witnessed. Tim may need to conjure a disguise from now on. Leslie and the mother return, the baby safely asleep in her mother’s arms. Tim nods gently, allowing the woman to pull him into a very tight and very teary hug. She tries to pay but Tim won’t let her. She chokes out a very broken “thank you!” before she leaves, staring at her little girl like she is the only thing that matters in the world. Demon thinks he might just understand humans and their spawn now. The reverence. The care.

Leslie lays a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Tim, how long have you been able to do that?” She asks, disturbed. Tim smiles softly. “Not long. And not often with that degree of success. They have to want to come back. Babies are difficult. They don’t often have a concept of want yet.” Leslie nods, her eyes widening with every word. Demon grunts. “It is late. We should go, my witch. Must rest up for next time people bring you their loved ones.” Tim smiles at Demon. It feels like soft sunlight warming his face. Leslie smiles too, although there is still great worry present in her face. “Be careful Tim. Life and death are not something to be taken lightly.” She warns as they leave. Tim waits until they’re out of sight to roll his eyes. “She doesn’t understand that I’ve been doing that my whole life. I’ve died dozens of times and it never seems to stick. It still hurts a lot but it never sticks. Why should it stick for a baby who’s done nothing wrong ever? Why punish a mom who gives a shit about her kid?” Tim kicks a pebble into the street with the toe of his boot. “Besides, with such immense power, who wouldn’t use it? Especially for a baby!” Tim rants. Demon just pats the boy on the shoulder and leads him home. It isn’t fair. Tim is playing with the balance of things. He will begin to attract the attention of powerful beings. It would be better to stay under the radar. But there’s no talking sense into Tim now. Demon will just have to make sure that they are ready.

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Over the next three years, Tim resurrects many a child. Many an adult, even. Tim fights Klarion the witch boy and wins easily. He beats a literal lord of chaos on twenty minutes of sleep without breaking a sweat. The battle bored him. Demon feels better and better about being on Tim’s good side every day. Tim comes back from the greenhouse after gathering a few plants for the salves he makes for Leslie to hand out at the clinic. The news is on the radio in the background. Its voice warbles out something that Demon does not catch but Tim clearly does. He drops the plants in his hands and his face pales. Then his expression hardens. Oh no. Tim is about to run headfirst into trouble. This is going to be very scary for Demon. Tim picks up the plant cuttings and sets them on the table, his task forgotten.
“You up for a field trip, Demon?” Tim asks, eyes glinting. Demon nods. He was planning on eating soup and reading Pride and Prejudice again, perhaps there will still be time after their ‘field trip’. Something tells Demon that it will be a long night and he will not get his chance to read his favorite book tonight. He sighs and grabs the shovel, “Graveyard?” Tim smiles and confirms, “Graveyard.”

Tim leads Demon to a freshly covered grave with a marker that reads Jason Todd. Something about the name is familiar but Demon cannot quite place it. His name is important. He is meant to come back, but not by Tim’s hand. “My witch, my mage, there are great powers at play here. Fabrics of the universe hinge upon this name.” Demon warns.
Tim scowls. “He is a child, Demon. A. Child. He did not deserve this.” Tim is growling. The sky churns with his anger. Wind whips through the trees. The ground itself shakes from vibrations deep below the earth’s crust.
“Do you believe this child deserved to die? Do you believe that he deserves to awake in his coffin and dig himself out?” Tim asks. Demon realizes that these questions are not rhetorical.
“Uh no. But there are great deities in play. It might be smart to not piss them off.” Demon answers. Tim levels a glare in Demon’s direction. As scared as Demon is of gods and deities and masters of the universe, he fears Tim’s power more.

So, he begins digging.

Tim is not finished though. “Fuck the gods. Fuck any god who would leave a child to that fate!” Tim swears. Demon hopes they are not listening. He is not sure if fuck translates well in the languages of the gods but he hopes that he does not find out. Somehow, Demon feels like he will. Demon continues digging. Once Demon uncovers the coffin and unlatches it open, Tim sends him to gather the plants and tools needed to resurrect Jason Todd. Demon does as he is told. When Tim begins the ritual, Demon stands outside the circle. He watches as lights of various colors swirl around the deceased corpse of a boy. Wind and rain and fire and earth fly around, whipping at the suit that he was so carefully buried in. Lightning and thunder crack across the sky and Demon leaps forward to catch Tim as he sinks to his knees. Jason Todd is breathing on his own. It’s ragged. Not fully healed. Tim, stubborn and powerful boy that he is, continues chanting. Jason’s breath evens out. His eyes ease open and he is terrified.
Demon locks eyes with Jason and tries his best to appear friendly. Tim does not rest though. Chanting until the scrapes and bruises leave Jason’s skin. The staples, which held together his scalp for the viewing, float out and sink themselves into the dirt. Finally, Tim stops.

Jason takes a ginger step forward, clearly not expecting his limbs to bear his own weight. Demon holds Tim as he catches his breath. The boy will need to rest again soon. The immense intensity of the works performed tonight will have grave consequences in all versions of this world. Once Tim is ready to move, they all walk over to Wayne Manor together. Tim knocks at the front door, dispelling numerous runes and hexes from the house so Demon may be allowed to enter.

An elderly man answers the door and falls back with a gasp. The new boy, called Jason, pushes past Tim and Demon and gives them both permission to enter. Demon follows Jason and Tim further into the house, past the older man gaping like a fish from his seat on the floor. Another boy, maybe eighteen, catches them in the hallway and screams. Tim startles and the resulting cracks of lightning seem to only escalate the situation. A middle aged man comes running and falls to his knees crying and grasping onto Jason. Tim clears his throat and pulls everyone’s attention.
“Just so you know, he’s okay physically. Will for sure need therapy though. Like a lot. No offense Jason, I just know what it’s like coming back and it’ll mess with your mind if you let it.”
Jason, to his credit, gives Tim a questioning look. Like he’s already trying to piece together how he knows Tim. Tim blushes under the attention. “Well, on the off chance that he needs additional healing, you know where to find me.” Tim hands Jason a sigil necklace and disappears, literally melting into the shadows of the house. Demon sighs. Teleportation is great. But a warning would be nice so Demon could go with Tim. He really should impress on Tim the importance of familiar status.

Demon tries to leave but find himself rooted to the spot. The Waynes analyzing him. Demon frowns. It would be polite to let him go. Tim won’t like his friend being held against his will. The middle aged man steps forward, placing himself between Demon and the two boys. Demon holds back an eye roll. “Who are you? How do you know Jason?” The man asks. Demon huffs. “I go by Demon. I helped the most powerful magic user I know. He decided to bring back the boy.” Simple, honest, but revealing nothing that could make Tim vulnerable. Good. “Why Jason?” The elder boy asks over the man’s shoulder. Demon looks over the man to lock eyes with the boy before he answers. “Because the boy did not deserve his fate.” Demon says. Best to keep it as vague as possible. Besides who knows what is going on in Tim’s wonderfully chaotic brain anyway. “Thank you.” The youngest says. Demon nods his head in answer. “I just did the digging. Witch is who deserves the real credit.” Demon supplies. Jason deserves to know that he was cared for by the boy who followed him through the night on patrol, who watched from a distance, who dared to bring him back.

A resounding thud sounds from the front entrance. All four of the Waynes look startled. Demon knows exactly who it is. “Demon!” Tim shouts. Demon tugs at his feet, trying to go to his mage. The runes that root him to the spot are too powerful for him to break on his own. Tim barrels in and wipes them away with a thought. Then he wheels to face the Waynes. The house shakes terribly and Demon cannot tell if it is thunder or the ground itself. “Please Witch. They did not mean harm. They wished to know more!” Demon tries to placate the boy before he breaks his own no harm rule. Tim takes several slow deep breaths. The weather outside still rages but the house seems structurally sound again. “Are you lying to me, Demon? You know I hate liars.” Tim hisses, still facing the Waynes. Demon sees both boys gulp in fear.
“I have not told a lie in this house.” Demon answers. Which is technically true. The air remains tense, buzzing with energy. Everyone remains frozen, waiting. After a while, Tim mutters out a “fine” and he lets the tension melt out of his shoulders. Tim seems mullified for now.

The Waynes keep a sharp eye on Tim, clearly understanding that he is the greater threat in this situation. Tim does shoot Demon a look that says we will be talking about this when we get home and Demon holds up his hands in surrender. Jason, blessed Jason, speaks up now.
“Hey, I know that I just got back but could we cut the kid some slack since he, y’know, brought me back from the dead?” The middle aged man grunts and Demon remembers who he looks like. “Ah you’re the Batman!” Demon realizes out loud. Everyone looks at him and Demon tries to hide behind Tim. “How do you know that?” Jason asks. Demon looks to Tim before answering. “We have seen the Batman near Dr. Leslie’s clinic. You looked familiar. Now I know why Jason is so important.” Demon says. Tim nods. Honest but not too revealing. Demon did well. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye out for you kiddo.” Says the older boy. Tim scoffs. “You could’ve been doing that easily. I live literally next door.” He says, rolling his eyes. Demon stifles a laugh at the shock on their assorted faces. The shock then melts into concern and Demon decides he must salvage this interaction for Tim. The Waynes are good people. Tim could use more good influences to temper him.
“I have always wondered if humans supervise their spawn? I have learned that some do and others do not and I believe Witch would benefit from more friends.” Demon states, making eye contact with Batman. Tim sputters beside Demon. “I - Dude! Uncool!!”
Jason, blessed Jason, then intercedes, “We can totally be friends. I know tons of kids our age with weird powers, they’d love you!”
Tim grins, all teeth. “You think I’m weird?” His voice dripping in excitement and a smidgen of pride. Demon thinks that Tim looks feral but the Waynes seem charmed.

The boys go off to talk and the elderly man waves Demon over to talk. “I would like to thank you for bringing my grandson back to us. While Witch is with us, we will do our best to ensure his safety.” The man promises. Demon appreciates it. And he will hold the man to it. Batman comes over and seems to weigh which question he wishes to begin with. “How did you meet your witch?” He asks first. Demon is surprised that this is the great detective’s first question but answers anyway. He recounts that lovely Halloween night six years ago. He even brags on his well honed gin rummy skills. Demon can see Batman make a mental note to investigate the Drakes.

The older boy, called Dick, Demon learns, is showing off his gymnastics skills when they all hear the shattering of glass and a sharp gasp of pain. Demon and the men round the corner to find a horrified Dick hovering over an injured Jason, and a stern faced Tim trying to keep Jason from pulling the glass from his eyes. Tim throws a harsh order to Demon over his shoulder and Demon teleports back home, grabbing the supplies Tim needs to heal the boy’s eyes. At least this should be easier than raising the dead. He’s back within a minute, not caring if he is trapped by runes again. Tim will help Demon. Tim waves his hands over Jason’s face, slowly wrapping the pieces of glass in blue light. Purple envelopes his eyeballs and for all of ten seconds the world stilled. Then, as quick as the magic was conjured, it is gone. Jason is uninjured. Bloody glass shards deposited safely into the trash. The looks of awe on each of their faces makes Demon puff out his chest with pride for his boy. He has come so far from conjuring a friend. Batman tries to pay him. Tim accepts nothing in return.
“I help because I can, the good comes back to me in other ways.” Tim says. Demon hopes for Tim’s sake that is true. “You must be tired, Witch. We should go home to Drake Manor.” Demon says gently.
Dick jumps up and stops Demon from moving. Demon could easily push through the boy but he did promise not to do harm. “You should move in with us, Tim. Please?” Dick asks. Demon looks at Tim. Wayne Manor would not be Demon friendly. “Only if Demon can come too.” Tim negotiates. Batman’s voice does not waiver when he utters, “Deal.”
Demon chuckles. Tim did get the better end of this deal, easily. “We must rest so we can pack up the manor to move here. Think of how long it will take to transplant the greenhouse.” Demon nudges the boy. Tim’s shoulders sag at the thought. “But that is a problem for the morning.”