Archive of Our Own ^beta

POV.: Tim

Tim’s parents loved him.

He knew that just as much as he knew that grass was green, and fire was hot.

They loved him and they only wanted the best for him.

When he had been bitten a few months back while running around after Batman and Robin, hiding his new identity hadn’t been a problem. By the time his parents had come back a few days later however, the gig was up.

But again, his parents loved him. They had seen through his attempts at hiding himself immediately and when they had found out what he was, they instantaneously started looking into options of how to reverse it.

It would make his life easier, worth living even. He would be able to go to school again soon, take over his parent’s company eventually, and still make his parents proud.

When Janet had explained what they had to do – conversion therapy, she had called it – he hadn’t been aware of how painful it would be.

The last time they had opened his door, he hadn’t been able to help himself and had jumped at his father in an attempt to bite him. After weeks of starving, his control had completely left him.

Janet said that this was a good sign, that soon, everything would be over, and he would be a normal human again. It hadn’t stopped them from putting him in silver chains to ensure that he couldn’t attack them again.

So, when Janet opened his door this time, Tim didn’t even move.

The chains were holding him back, but they also felt incredibly heavy, and he simply didn’t have the strength to even hold up his head with them holding him down.

Janet was holding a tray in her hands. She was wearing a seemingly expensive dress. It wasn’t one Tim had seen her in before, but it was a common sight for him, nonetheless. Ever since he was bound to the house like this, his parents hadn’t left Gotham, but they did go to many dinners and galas and any place they could meet other rich people.

Still, them taking the time out of their busy schedule just to care for him, showed him once again, how important he was for them.

Janet came closer and carefully kneeled on the ground in front of him.

“How are you feeling, Timmy?”, she asked sweetly.

He wasn’t able to answer in any other way then by blinking, to exhausted to even try for words.

Janet laid her head to the side in worry, before reaching out to touch his forehead. Her hand was blissfully warm, but Tim couldn’t help but scrunch up his face. He could smell her blood like this. Her pulse was loud enough for him to hear it with her so close, he could even see her blood run through the veins in her wrist, which was now located right in front of his face.

It was driving him crazy. If he still had his fangs (and the necessary strength) he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from driving his teeth into her arm right now.

But Janet knew that he wasn’t a threat to her anymore.

“It will be over soon, Baby, I can tell”, Janet said and tenderly pushed his hair out of his face. “Drink this.” She held one of the glasses that had been on her tray closer to him.

By now they always had a straw in them to make it easier for him, as he couldn’t use his hands anymore, both because of the chains and because of his weakness.

Tim somehow managed to get it in between his lips and started sucking the sweet liquid inside the glass. It was mainly water with different vitamins and substitutions for iron and alike. His parents had added sugar, to make it at least bearable to drink it, but it still wasn’t a treat. He also had to drink a protein shake once a day.

Unfortunately, everything that wasn’t blood tasted like ash to him now. He wasn’t even sure if his body was capable of taking in all the nutrients he is given if not taken in via blood. But his parents swore up and down that it worked. They had talked to dozens of so-called Vampire-therapists who claimed that this would keep him alive, until he was able to swear off of blood on his own and make the decision to live as a normal human again.

So far it only felt like dying.

But the entire situation also had an upside: his parents hadn’t spent as much time with him as now in years. He received friendly touches from them, attention, then and now one of them even sat down next to his door and just talked to him.

The pain and exhaustion were definitely worth it.

…

POV Bruce:

In all the years that Bruce had lived, he had never been aware that he had neighbours. Sure, every now and then he met the Drake’s at a gala and they reminded him that they lived beside him. But he had never seen their car drive by his manor, never heard of a party taking place next to him, or anything alike.

It had been his impression that the Drakes were constantly on the move and never at home long enough to organise something like this.

Something must have shifted though, because he had seen them constantly over the past few weeks. Suddenly they showed up at every Gala that took place, their pictures were in the newspaper, and several organizations proudly proclaimed them as new donators.

Bruce had lived in Gotham long enough to know that this was typically a sign of something bad brewing- especially for a couple that had attempted to get him to finance their trips -disguised as business trips- for the past few years.

It was probably the only reason why he had decided to attend the very first Gala the drakes themselves had organized.

So far, everything seemed normal.

The entire room was decorated with the treasures the Drakes had acquired on their trips, some of them even had a sign, as if they were in a museum. Their manor was significantly smaller than Wayne manor, but they still had a great hall that comfortably held 50 people with fitting sitting possibilities. Add to that their great garden and some of the other open rooms and all of Gotham’s high society could attend. Though Bruce counted less than half of the usual attendees.

Janet and Jackson Drake still made sure to make the most of the situation. Both of them were currently far apart from one another, trying to spin conversations to their favour. Janet was wearing a long deep blue and elegant dress with silver accessories, while Jack was dressed in a black suit.

Everything looked exactly like Bruce would have expected from a gala at their manor.

With one small detail that was amiss.

The Drake’s had a tendency to always drag their child, Timothy, to every gala and public outing possible. For some reason it was very important to them, to not only showcase the future heir of their company, but also to make sure that everybody believed that they were good parents.

A lie that Bruce had seen through the first time he met Timothy.

5-year-olds were not good at lying.

Most rooms in the manor were closed. It was common protocol, not to open them, but Bruce knew very well, that even the rich tended to snoop around – either to steal or to find out dirty little secrets., As a result, whenever such an event happened at his own manor, Alfred always made sure, to lock up the rooms that were not open for investigations. The Drake’s did not seem to know about this yet.

Bruce had already gone through several rooms, having made sure to separate himself from the crowd as soon as possible. Now, he was on his way to the second level.

There was one door that he realized differed from the others. The very last door on the floor had a silver knob rather than a (presumably fake) golden one like the rest.

So far, all that had led Bruce here was intuition. He had no idea what could be behind this door. A hunch was a good thing to have, but it didn’t give you any information.

No experience in the world, not even that of Batman, could have prepared him for what he saw as he opened the door.

In the first moment, it simply looked like children’s bedroom. There were shelves and cabinets to his left, a big window in the wall across from him, pictures on the walls, a queen-sized bed, a messy table and a chair hidden beneath used clothes… but that is where the resemblance stopped.

The big window was covered completely with black out curtains – something that might be normal in his own home, but even there they weren’t closed minutes before sunset unless someone had a migraine.  Much more conspicuous, however, were the chains that were running across the floor towards the bed. Lumps beneath the blanket suggested that these chains actually were connected to somebody.

Carefully, Bruce made his way over to the bed. Slowly he reached up to the top of the blanket and lifted it to peak underneath.

He could feel all the blood in his veins run cold. The tiny, shivering form of a boy was hidden blankets. He was laying in the foetus-position, his thin arms pressed against his chest as if attempting to keep his own body-warmth. The skin where the chains were touching him was raw, but just as white as the rest of his body.

Worried, Bruce reached for the boy’s neck, looking for a pulse, but as soon as his fingers came in contact with the boy he jerked back, and his eyes tore open.

For a second, he could see real fear in the boys’ eyes, before recognition took its place and the boy laid down his head again, only staring up at Bruce.

Now, with his whole face exposed, Bruce could see how sunken in his cheeks were. Carefully kneeling beside the bed, Bruce moved his hand against to touch the boy, this time fondly stroking his hair.

“Hey, there,” he whispered. “You must be Timothy. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here.”

Quickly he went through his pockets for the tiny instrument he always had with him.  Even when wearing a suit. Reaching up again to open the boy’s chains, he was met with bared teeth.

Or rather bared tooth gaps, as it was visible now, that the boy was missing his canines, and possibly even some of the teeth beside them.

“Well,” Bruce commented fondly, “if the curtains, the skin and your body-temperature weren’t enough, this certainly tells me that you are a vampire. Recently turned, I suppose?” Then, in a deeper, even calmer voice: “is this why your parents locked you up, Timothy?”

“I’ll be cured soon,” the boy whispered quietly.

“Cured?” Bruce asked. “There is no such thing as a cure for this.”

But he understood immediately what the boy meant. There were many people out there who believed that many symptoms of vampireism -especially the need to drink human blood- was a choice and could be fought in the same way an addiction could be fought. Which of course meant getting sober, or, in the case of a vampire, getting starved.

Making a decision after seeing all this was easy. Seconds later, the chains were opened, revealing damaged and ugly looking skin. Shortly after that, Bruce had Tim in his arms, wrapped in a blanked and pressed to his chest. Luckily, Bruce found a way out of the manor that didn’t include walking through the masses but rather walking through the kitchen.

There were still several hired cooks and servants who saw them, but none of them made a move to intercept him after seeing the thin boy in his arms.

Timothy, for his part, didn’t try to stop him either, though that was likely more due to his general inability to even move, rather than approval of the situation.

Not that Bruce cared much for his approval at the moment.

He would find out that this was for the best sooner or later, anyway.

...

POV Jason

Most of the time, when Bruce had to go to a gala or some sort of public event like that, he forced at least one of his sons to come with him.

The fact that he hadn’t done so for tonight was suspicious enough – even more so when Jason found out that Bruce didn’t even have to go there, but instead went over out of his own free will.

So Jason had been on alert. He had been playing with the thoughts of going out there as Robin and spying on B, but Alfred had held him back.

Instead, Jason had been in his pyjamas, watching YouTube-videos on the Batcomputer. An action Bruce had forbidden him from, but Alfred had yielded when he realized that it would be the easiest way to keep Jason at home.  

When the doors to the stairs opened, he immediately switched to his last report, but it seemed that that was unnecessary, because Bruce didn’t even spare him a look.

He knew that he was there nonetheless, because he shouted a “Go get Alfred” over his shoulder before he disappeared into the med bay.

Not long after that, Jason returned with Alfred hot at his heels and peered into the room.

On the bed there was a boy with a giant blanket. His head was turned to the side, away from Bruce, and he was quietly crying. It wasn’t a typical “I’m hurt”, or “I’m having a breakdown”-crying that Jason had seen on so many people before. No, it was the crying of a person too exhausted to do anything else.

Bruce for his part seemed to be trying to stop the boy from crying. He was calmly and quietly talking to the boy. One of his hands was hovering over his shoulder, though he seemed unsure if it was okay to touch the boy.

When Alfred and Jason stepped in, he immediately stopped however and instead looked up at Alfred.

“Go get a blood-transfusion for him, please,” he said, just as calmly as when he was speaking to the boy.

Jason had to admit that the child was as white as a sheet of paper, but there were no visible wounds that would justify the need of a transfusion.

“Certainly, sir,” Alfred said, already on the way, “which type?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“No,” the boy intercepted weakly. “I don’t want to.”

“Timothy, I know you don’t believe me right now, but I promise that this will not destroy your progress. It is NOT possible to be cured from this. The only thing you are doing is starving yourself and it will end in your death, not in conversion!”

“No,” Timothy sobbed, “my mother said I’m so close!”

“I know buddy, but she is lying. I promise, everything will be fine.”

It didn’t seem to calm the boy down in the least. Instead, when Alfred came back, he only started to sob harder. Bruce quickly took the blood transfusion from Alfred.

The moment he managed to open the bag up, everything in the room shifted.

Timothy immediately leaped up and ripped the bag out of Bruce’s hands. Bruce in turn attempted to keep it away from the boy, but he had already managed to get his mouth over the opening and was sucking. With the uneven grip between the two of them, the bag twisted and turned, momentarily being ripped out of the boy’s mouth. The blood gushed out of it, down the boy’s chin and onto the blanket.

By now Timothy was half kneeling on the bed, still trying to drink more blood, as Bruce tried to hold the bag up and out of his way, while simultaneously holding a hand against Timothy’s chest to keep him from falling down the bed.

“wait- Slowly, Timothy, you can’t just drink everyth… give me a second, I won’t take it from you! Alfred, help!”

Alfred quickly moved behind the boy to try and pin him back onto the bed, but he, who formerly had been so weak, now seemed much stronger than the two men, as he was moved by pure desperation.

Jason couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch.

By the time Bruce managed to wrench the blood bag out of the boy’s hands, it was almost empty. For a second Timothy whined, but then it was interrupted by a couch and suddenly a gush of blood came out of his mouth, as he threw up all over himself and the blanket.

It didn’t stop him from trying to reach the bag again, but Bruce hid it behind his back.

“Listen, buddy, I know you are really really hungry, but if you try to eat that quickly after such a long time of starvation, you’ll just throw it up again. I’m not ging to take it away from you, but you really have to drink slowly, okay?”

Timothy didn’t seem to listen, instead making grabby motions for the bag, while tears ran down his face.

Bruce sent a desperate look towards Alfred.

“I think I may have a suitable solution for this situation,” Alfred said. “Master Bruce, if you could take over? I will be back in just a moment. Master Jason, could you maybe look for new clothes and a new blanket for our guest?”

Glad to finally have something useful to do, Jason rushed out to do as he was told.

It was more than clear by now, that Timothy was a vampire.

As a former street-kid, Jason had to admit that this wasn’t the first vampire he had met. Being a vampire technically wasn’t illegal – especially in a city like Gotham!- but that didn’t mean that it came without consequences. Many vampires had problems holding a job and were often even tossed out of their apartments. They were significantly more likely to be found guilty and receive a hefty sentence, even compared to other mythical creatures.

As such, most tried to keep it a secret once they were turned.

All of this also meant, that you were more likely to meet them on the street. On the one hand, because many of them were homeless themselves, but on the other hand, because they often sought out homeless people for feeding in an attempt to avoid being listed as a vampire by the government.

Jason himself had allowed some of them to feed off of him for a place to sleep for the night or some cash. He had mostly good experiences with vampires.

Though seeing one through up half a litre of blood on himself probably wasn’t one of them.

By the time he returned to the sick bay, Bruce was sitting behind the crying boy, holding his back against his chest and quietly shushing him.

The blood-soaked blanket lay on the ground.

For a second Jason thought about helping Timothy change his clothes, but given how distraught he was, it probably wasn’t a smart idea to get him to strip in front of two strangers. So instead he put the new blanket over the boy, despite the blood that must be soiling it from underneath now, and laid the fresh clothes onto a chair nearby.

Moments later, Alfred reappeared and immediately pushed a bottle into the hands of Timothy, who instantly brought it to his lips and began to suck desperately.

“Is that a baby-bottle?” Jason asked.

Alfred just grinned “It is significantly harder to drink from a baby-bottle as it has such a tiny opening. It must be even harder when you aren’t used to it anymore.”

Alfred seemed to be right about that.

While it had taken Timothy mere seconds to nearly empty the whole bag of blood, this bottle, which held significantly less blood, took him several minutes. Enough for his body to realize that his stomach was full at least, because once he was finished he simply laid bag against Bruce and closed his eyes.

“Now, I’m assuming that you brought him to the med-bay so I could take a further look at him, Master Bruce?”

“Yes, he was bound with silver chains when I found him, and he is missing some teeth.”

“Well, then, let’s have a look at the lad.”

...

POV Jason, Prologue

As it turned out, Timothy very much preferred being called Tim.

The marks on his hands and neck where the chains had been, would become less and less noticeable in the future, but as they were basically burn-marks it was unlikely that they would vanish completely.

The teeth were a much bigger problem. Bruce had taken in him to a specialized dentist who got him false teeth. As both he and his jaw were still growing, he couldn’t receive implants yet, though he was planning for that in the future. For the moment he had more than one pair of false teeth – one with vampire canines and one without. Bruce had insisted on it. He would never force Tim to publicly wear his vampire teeth, but he wanted to make sure that he had the option.

An option that he was starting to appreciate but so far only used when he was out as Robin.

For the moment Jason and Tim were sharing the mantle.

Jason wasn’t ready to give it up yet but was starting to think of ways he could become his own hero. Tim on the other hand was only just starting. He barely went out with Bruce yet, mainly training. But when he did, he went out in one of Jasons older uniforms.

In a way Jason was glad for this opportunity, He loved Robin, but right now, he was able to do for Tim, what Dick hadn’t been emotionally able to do for him. Sometimes it felt like he was healing his own younger self like this.

Dick on the other hand, was in town more often right now.

Maybe seeing how Jason dealt with a new Robin had helped him a bit, maybe he just wanted to look after another turned mythical creature like himself. It had certainly helped Tim to have somebody at his side, who had delt with the sudden changes that came with it, as well as a failed attempt to undo what he was turned into.

Of course, Dick was a werewolf and couldn’t help Tim with everything, but his mere presence was sometimes enough.

Bruce still sometimes beat himself up over how everything had happened.

Sure, he had known, that he would never return Tim to his parents, but when he had brought him down to the cave, he hadn’t been thinking at all. Tim may have claimed that he knew their identities long before that day, but Jason had a growing suspicion that Bruce didn’t quite believe him.

Bruce had never wanted to add another child to this war.

He hadn’t hesitated to adopt one though.

By now the blood-bags they held in the manor were just as much for Tim to feed on as for the case of extreme blood loss by one of them.

Tim however, preferred blood fresh from the source. A wish they all obliged every now and then.

After all, who could deny Timmy anything?