Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Drake family is an ancient lineage. Not one of Gotham’s own, but the world’s. Generations of Drakes, exploring the world untethered, digging their greedy hands into dust and dirt to pull up ancient and forgotten arts. Poking and prodding at old magic they couldn’t or simply refused to understand. Weathered stone tablets with words carved in long forgotten tongues. Pottery with the handles missing, and painted on images of a civilisation’s lost culture. Shields so brown with rust and blood their true colour is lost to the sands they were pulled from.

But eventually this family needed a place to rest. A place to store their stolen prizes and lick their wounds before they went off to rob the graves of ancients once more. Disturbing the long gone and waking that which is worse. The things that go bump in the night that swirled in their peripherals. Animals with too human faces and the things in the corner of your room only your cats ever notice. All watching, waiting. Ready to sink their razored claws in supple flesh and rip apart bone with needled teeth.

The Drakes chose Gotham, to the creatures’ dismay. Gotham was an entity of its own, a growling, gnashing, beast of a city that warned off any ghoul that tried to enter. But Gotham was growing weak, and they could be patient. Licking their teeth and sharpening their claws until they could sink them into flesh. Biding their time with planning the death of these thieves, images of blood flowing across the ground that temporarily soothed their aching hatred. 

Then Timothy was born. The blood of the Drakes raised in the belly of Gotham. A young boy left abandoned by his own from the tender age of 1. The caretakers he had were useless, and the child could only draw comfort from himself. Sitting in front of his window and watching the city across the river with longing eyes. A gaze far too old for a human so young. The things under the bed watched him grow, saw how his kind had failed him. And that burning vengeance cooled into icy sadness. Eyeless faces shedding tears for the boy’s fate.

Gotham latched onto the boy, it’s heart breaking for the boy that could be so much yet felt so little. It tried its hardest to help him, little things it had control over. On days the boy would run through the gardens the stones would sink beneath the surface and he would return home graze free. On days his family came home there would be clear skies and less traffic so he could see them that little bit longer. But each act was weakening it, and the creatures started to creep in. With nobody to save Gotham, it started to lose the ability to help its people. 

But Gotham knew what was coming, and it could be patient.

Timothy was 3 when he met his first monstrosity.Gotham’s eyes closed during the sun’s peak.  A small creature made entirely of shadow that swirled in the dark Gotham evening. Tim hadn’t noticed it at first, too distracted with the new camera he had received from his parents before they’d left that morning. The being moved, black ebbing and waning with what could be called breaths as Tim tripped over it. The little boy fell hard, camera sliding across the carpet as he lay face down in the expensive material. When he finally looked up it was beside his face, two pinpricks of white facing him like eyes.

Tim blinked at the creature, and the creature mimicked the movement. Black covering white before quickly revealing them again. And Tim smiled. Gently scooping the small black being into his palms and walking to his room, the camera left forgotten on the floor.

Tim sat cross legged on his bedroom carpet, the small black ball a few feet in front of him. Those white pinpricks looking(?) up at him. Every time he blinked the whites disappeared for a second and reappeared. As if copying his motions. Mimicking. The thing didn’t move from where Tim had placed it, so Tim spoke.

“H-Hello?” His voice was quiet and soft around the edges. Not yet used to pronouncing hard consonants. The creature did not speak but it tilted, white shifting diagonally like it was listening. Learning. Tim blinked and the shadows mimicked. The quiet hum of the things in the closet encouraged the small speck to do something, anything to ease the poor child’s fears and loneliness. 

“I um… I’ve never seen an animaw like you befowe, are you fwiendly?” Tim tried again, voice getting slightly more confident as the being continued to stare at him. The whites shifted again. Righting themselves before the thing started to make sounds. Clicks and squeaks Tim had heard on one of his animal documentaries. It rolled closer to him, gently running into his outstretched hand. Tim smiled, the fuzzy and slightly cold feeling of the creature was the warmest touch he could remember receiving. 

After that day Tim took the little ball with him everywhere, it became his one friend. The only thing he could talk to to stave off his loneliness. He named it Susu, feeling like he’d heard that name being used in some strange film about a girl and saving her family from turning into pigs. And there was a dragon in it so obviously he had to use it. Something about dust spirits.

Gotham had eyed the little demon that had attatched itself to it’s child. But the boy was so much happier so it let them be. Making sure to keep an eye on the both so that no harm would befall Tim. The three eyed crows called Tim’s praise from the branches by his window, telling him he only needed to wait. That he would not be alone for long. He had a family of bumps in the night and blinking stars in the sky that were counting the seconds till they could meet him. To scoop him up in their tentacles and shelter him in the warmth beneath their wings. Hide him from the world that had hurt him so deep so soon.

And that time came far too soon for anyone’s liking. Gotham had grown far too weak, the horrors of imagination had started to run rampant in its veins, ruining the streets and agitating its villains. Its chosen protector, the bat of the night, wasn’t ready to face them yet. Too immature, unprepared. Returning to his home with injuries that would have killed anyone without Gotham’s protection. It was one of these days, when Gotham was trying its best to keep the dark knight alive, that Tim joined the underworld.

He padded down the cashmere carpets on silent, bare feet. Eyes trailing across the new artefacts his parents had stopped home long enough to unload. Not even staying a full 24 hours before they had another flight to catch and more graves to rob. The shadows around Tim swirled angrily, seeing their heritage put on glass shelves like some sort of display.

A small clay bear made the corners whine, silent tears as it remembered its time as a young girl. Scared and alone.

A stone tablet had the windows rattling in unheard rage. The message of a mother’s plea to save her children, lost, just like the language it was written in.

A shattered blade had the pieces all laid in a line, making the wind whistle by in agony. A man remembering the feeling of it plunging into his chest as he begged them to let him go.

Tim passed the last shelf, a slight chill in his spine as he finally turned the corner and his eyes landed on the large patio doors. The day had been unusually warm for Gotham, the sun peeking through the clouds to light up the skyline in a way that made the place look almost eerie. His eyes landed on the pool, the clear water sparkling in the light. It reminded Tim of the refreshing feeling of a cold shower after getting all hot and sweaty from running in the garden. Slowly sliding the door open Tim made his way across varnished wood and cold stone until he stood beside the water. 

Sitting down Tim carefully dipped a foot in.The icy chill of the water made Tim shiver. He pulled his jumper tighter around his shoulders before slowly dipping his other foot in. Goosebumps appeared in seconds, coating his skin and making him feel colder despite the hot Gotham sun. He sat there for a moment, feet splashing in the crystalline waters and letting himself get used to the feeling. Tim glanced into the depths, but the lighting made the bottom endless, melding with the afternoon shadows and consuming the little bit of light that was left. With a gulp, slowly, ever so slowly, Tim pushed himself into the pool.

The first thing he realised was the way the water seemed to rip all the warmth from his body. An involuntary gasp was all he could manage before he grabbed the edge. He quickly kicked with his legs, trying to get any warmth back into the limbs. But every movement felt like lead, the slow response causing his heart to flutter in fear. Tim tried to pull himself out, but the ledge was too high and he didn't have the strength in his arms. He watched them turning pale, then blue. His appendages no longer doing as he wanted. He scraped his hands against the stone walls helplessly, feeling himself slipping under as his muscles gave out. In a last attempt, Tim held his breath. Even till the end he never broke a rule. He never screamed for help, he was silent.

Chlorine burned his nose and black spots danced in his peripherals. He sunk further into the unforgiving depths of the pool. His mind was foggy. There was no pain for Tim. The icy water numbed his nerves enough that all that remained was the faint burning in his lungs. Their ache to simply open his mouth and breathe. Tim thrashed under the water, trying fruitlessly to make his way up, to inhale lungfuls of sweet oxygen. But his limbs were too numb. Unable to pull him from his watery grave.

Timothy Jackson Drake was 5 years, 3 months, 7 days, 3 hours and 28 minutes old when he died. Died all alone with his Parents in another country and his nanny napping on the couch.

Timothy Jackson Drake was 5 years, 3 months, 7 days, 4 hours and 58 minutes old when he woke up. Woke up with his chest heaving and his body curled up at the bottom of the pool.

The water was no longer ice against his skin, but a pleasant warmth he had only felt once. The kind boy at the circus who had lost everything. The once ominous shadows now surrounded him, brushing gently against his skin making ripples on the surface above. Tim reached out a hand and the shadows mimicked his movements, gently curling around his hands and tugging him away from his corner. They felt warm, like a gentle embrace of a parent carrying you to bed or a soothing hand on your back as you woke from a nightmare. And that was what this had to be. A nightmare.

The shadows held him tighter, tugging harder as they dragged his body further from his grave. Ever so gently the shadows cradled him like a newborn babe. Depositing him on the stone edge of the pool before disappearing back into the afternoon shade. Tim turned around to try reach them again, to feel that warmth he so desperately craved. But the door to the house opened and his nanny came out to check on him. She held his hand and led him inside, tutting all the time as she washed him and put him to bed. 

Gotham wept at Tim’s demise. Having been unable to stop it. But it had been able to save him. To grant him the gifts of his hidden protectors. Gifts he could call when he needed, and eventually, wanted. The nanny didn’t notice the faint lines in Tim’s neck as she washed him off, getting him ready for bed. In the ocean behind the Drake manor, the horses made of seafoam let out a mighty roar. Waves crashed into the stony walls with fervour as they mourned the life of the boy. The boy who would sometimes sit by the water’s edge and talk to them. Who would run his hand across their silken hides and call them beautiful no matter their form. In return they had been able to save him. But Tim would never be the same again. For no longer was he a human of earth. He had been saved at the expense of joining his friends, truly becoming one with the shadows. 

Tim watched his nanny flip the switch, watched her shut the door, and he was left in darkness. But it wasn't. The usual pitch black that had him hiding beneath his sheets was gone. Instead the nightmares stood at the edge of his bed, watching over him, offering their soothing hum. Tim didn’t need to ask to know who the shadows were. He could feel it, they were connected, deep in their souls. He was the shadows and the shadows he. Every move he made was mimicked, every silent request heeded. He could feel the shadows. Not just here in the manor but everywhere.

Down the street the Clarke family had just sat down for their dinner. Expensive china plates slathered in small showy foods as candles lit the table and deepened the shadows. Pompous words sent puffs of air through the room and made the flames dance. Shadows dancing in turn. They watched the family use their silvered cutlery to cut into crispy leaves. The large owl statue on the mantle saw all and told Tim such.

Across the waters in the Bowery, a man threw his beer bottle into the gloom. The glass slipped through the shade harmlessly before shattering against the bricks. Pale yellow liquid foaming into the wall and dripping down the wall. Staining the already red material even darker. The darkness stalked the man, eyeing his movements with caution. Ready to send out a feeling to Gotham’s protector should he try to harm its people. The wild look in the man’s eye had Tim shiver, but the shade promised his safety.

On the other side of Gotham, the city hall district, the mayor stood in his office and paced. His eyes jumped nervously from the clock on his wall to his door. A masked person melded from the corners and dropped a briefcase on his desk making the man jump. The mayor wiped his brow as he opened the case, sweaty hands running across the thick piles of cash before nodding to the person. But they were already gone. Tim could feel them running across roofs till they reached the graveyard. Slipping into the catacombs and joining the others wearing similar masks.

Tim could see, could FEEL, everything that happened in Gotham. Because now Tim was Gotham. Almost as if waiting for him to figure it out, a voice spoke to him from everywhere around him. Her voice was kind, loving, and had the heavy Bristol accent he did. 

Tim, my chosen son. Tim, we are Gotham. And you shall help our future protectors. Our bats My Drake, my lovely Tim. Protect them, Protect us. 

Tim smiled at the voice he heard. It felt so familiar, yet he had never heard it before. Something about the voice soothed a deep ache in his chest he had never noticed. She was silent now, but Tim could feel her through the earth, always in the shadows. Watching over him and ready to heed his every call. To wrap him in her embrace and protect him should he need it. To teach him the ways of the creatures and creepies and return her to her former glory.

Timothy Jackson Drake had been saved, chosen by Mother Gotham to continue living. And Mother Gotham had a plan for him. Something that involved giving Tim strange abilities. Tim had been chosen by the Deity that had been given life, given the name Gotham. and now Gotham would mother Timothy in the way he had always wanted.

Chapter Text

A figure clad in black leaped across the gap between roofs. Their cape billowed behind them, the iconic symbol on display for all below. Or behind. The familiar flash of red, green and yellow followed. Half the bat’s size but three times as colourful. Robin had only been out for a year now, but everyone knew of him. He was easier to spot after all, both visually and verbally. At first people had been wary, brightly coloured people at night tended to mean trouble. But when the Gothamites had noticed the big bat, always hovering protectively, they soon learnt to love the child. And that’s what he was. A child. Many had speculated his age. Anywhere from 12 to 16. But Tim knew. He knew that Robin, Dick Grayson, was 14. Gotham had told him so.

Tim leapt after the two, scrambling up a water tower as the two vigilantes stopped near the edge of the building. The shadows around him coiled. Swallowing him and cloaking him in the oh so familiar darkness. It trailed around him, fading at the edges like a mist. Tim crouched there, resting on his heels as he watched the two before him look around. He felt Gotham’s warmth, her happiness, watching her Knight and his squire with Tim. She had watched Bruce bring him home after his wings had been ripped from him. Now after 4 years he flew again, wearing his family’s colours.

Tim let out a purr, Gotham’s happiness filling his heart and becoming his own. Robin froze halfway into a back walkover and turned in his direction. Hands pressed into the coarse roof as his eyes widened. Ah, He’s been spotted. No matter, Gotham’s powers hid his image, changed him, made him look the part. He wasn’t Timothy right now, he was Drake. A creature of Gotham, no he was Gotham herself. Raising a hand Drake waved and flashed a smile. Robin fell over and stared open-mouthed. Oops. Not used to the abominations that lurked in the shadows apparently. Drake purred again in apology and stepped forwards. Robin tensed and Drake just smiled. Falling off the tower and into the shadows. Feeling Gotham swallow him up and hold him close. Her warmth seeped through him until he was alone again. Perched on the edge of his bed. She was still there, just in the corner of his eye. Always.

Tim smiled, he was Tim again now. The shadows long having retreated to their places in the corners of his room. His familiars chirped and barked and groaned, each wanting his attention. Tim smiled, reaching a hand into his pocket and pulling out the little bag of animal crackers. The aborations keened. Diving and jumping to get their snacks. Soon they were full, the thought and ideas of food enough for them. Leaving Tim with the bag to munch on idly. He pulled out his notebook, checking the date and time before writing out his night. Mother stood over his shoulder, reminding him of important things he had forgotten. Tim was happy. A grimm curled up on his lap and closed its eyes. Thick black shaggy fur feeling soft beneath Tim’s hands. He petter the not-dog as he finished up his report, (Not a diary he was too old for those) then with a flourish he flicked the light switch from across the room. Curling up under his sheets he couldn’t help the giddy excitement that crawled through his body. He felt like he was covered in Imps. Restless and impatient. Excited for the next time he soared the skies of Gotham to find his new friends. Well almost friends. Once Robin got over the weird moving shadows and too blue eyes and too sharp teeth. Then they’d be friends. With a satisfied sigh Tim closed his eyes and let the nightmares take him. The gentle hands of a hag brushed through his hair and lulled him into a pleasant dream. A dream of too many robins, girls in black kevlar and a bright star that shone above it all.

Dick swung across the rooftops of Gotham, feeling the pull of the grappling hook as it flung him forwards. He smiled, the feeling nostalgic and reminding him of his parents. Gotham was a strange city he’d learnt, even during the day it was cast in shadows. The streets were rampant with crime, a rot that needed to be cleansed. And that’s what Dick was doing, what he had sworn to Bruce. Uphold Justice. 

He watched his guardian stop on their usual rooftop, skidding to a stop. Dick landed as gracefully as ever. His eyes scanned the drab skyline as Bruce pulled up something on his gauntlet’s little screen. After a few minutes he felt bored, anxiety and anticipation coiled in his gut like a mighty beast that wanted to be let free. Jumping away from the ledge he started to run through a few tricks. Bruce threw him a glance but quickly went back to his searching. Handsprings, cartwheels and flips blurred together till he heard a noise behind them. Halfway into a backwards walkover. Dick froze, balancing himself into a handstand to look around.

The sound was smooth as silk and rick as honey. A deep sound that seemed to resonate with him and created a feeling of satisfaction. Lensed eyes scanned the shadows before landing on movement.There, the shadows were… alive? They ebbed and waned in the dreary Gotham moonlight. Swirling in a similar way to Bruce’s cape. But no wind stirred so how? Two reflective eyes, blue and glowing, stared down at him. They seemed to sparkle despite an absence of light. And they were looking right at him.

Dick could feel his eyes widening as he got lost in those eyes. The things they promised were both horrifying and comforting. Like breaking the rules, the rush of adrenaline, but knowing the punishment was soon after. His body shivered as out of the inky nothingness, a smile. All razor teeth and wicked edges.Yet oddly Dick didn’t fear. He felt comforted, safe in a way he only felt in the batcave. Curled up on Bruce’s lap as he typed up his reports. Dick hadn’t realised he was falling till he hit the ground. Quickly turning to look at the mysterious shadow again.

Now that he was upright he could see better. He used the detective skills Bruce had drilled into him to look, really look. To take in as much detail as he could.

Darker than the night, shadows curling around it like they were alive. Blue eyes with slit-like pupils that observed him knowingly. Glistening white teeth, needle sharp but contained in the writhing nothingness. Horns, at least a foot long and curling up into the sky. Similar to Batman’s cowl. But curved slightly. Claws. Just as dark as the rest of it but there nonetheless. Their sharp ends gripping into the metal edges of the Water tower. Even from here Dick could see the puncture marks it was making. Then they moved.

That same strange noise. Dick then realised what it reminded him of. A cat. It was purring. The thing raised his hand and Dick tensed, hand jumping to grab his batarangs but ended up knocking into the gravel beneath him. Shit he was compromised. But the creature just…waved? The abyssal creature of living shadow had stalked him, purred at him, then smiled and waved as if he was greeting an old friend. What even is Gotham? A tense Gauntleted hand was on his shoulder and quickly pulled him away from the thing. Batman stood in a crouching position between the two of them. Batarang in hand and poised to attack. The creature tilted its head, tilted tilted and tilted until its neck should have been broken. But it wasn’t. It blinked at them and stood. Shadows curling around it and changing its shape. A black blob illuminated from behind by the crescent moon that hung low that night. 

It stepped forward and Dick almost scooted backwards at the sudden movement. A whoosh of wind and the thing changed shape again. It had wings. All sharp edges and curling shadows once more. Batman was so tense Dick could have mistaken him for a statue. Dick faintly recognised this shape. He’d seen them in the story books his family would read to him when he’d had a nightmare. It’s name on the tip of his tongue, rattling around his skull until it was the only thing he could think.

Dragon

It stepped off the water tower, falling down onto the roof before them. Then it just kept falling. The shadows seemed to reach up to grab it, pulling it into the depths and swallowing it whole. In an instant Bruce was where it had stood, gingerly testing the roof and looking for a secret entrance. There was nothing.

Dick shook his head and managed to stand.Stumbling over to Bruce in a half fear induced stupor. He gripped the man’s cloak and held it tight, mind still swirling with whatever he had just seen. He glanced around quickly, looking for any more movement in the shadows. Searching for those knowledgeable eyes that seemed to scream ‘I know everything about you’. But there was nothing. Just the sound of Gotham. He turned back to Bruce who was looking at him, concerned. Hands hovering over his shoulder but not touching. Unsure if he’s allowed to. Dick smiled weakly and pulled the hand towards himself. Bruce seemed to relax at that, given his permission. He quickly checked Dick all over for any sign of injury. Just as Bruce gave an all clear Dick wet his lips and spoke. The first words since that thing had disappeared.

“B, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think Evil Shenron just entered Gotham.”

”hng.” Was Bruce’s incredibly communicative response. Dick rolled his eyes at his guardians inability to use words. He understood however. He could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out what he’d seen.

”At least it was friend. It smiled at me, and waved.” Bruce’s head snapped towards Dick, white lenses narrowing slightly as he mulled over the new information. 

“Hmm.” Ooh an improvement, thinking noises. Dick smiled as Bruce nodded. The two of them headed back to the cave after that, their patrols were practically done anyways. The familiar hiss and thunk of their grapples were the only noise. When they were finally in the safety of the Batcave Bruce went straight for the computer. He removed his cowl and plugged it into one of the many ports. Seconds later the recording of their patrol pops up. Dick watches with increasing interest as Bruce speeds through the footage till the last hour. There. The black outline of the dragon. (Dick gets to name things and that’s what he’s sticking with. I mean, batcomputer, batmobile, batarangs. Come on) The two watch as the creature waves at them, palm open in a mimicry of human greeting. Opening a new file Bruce started to write up everything he could think of. Dick occasionally threw in his two cents and Bruce put maybe half of it in. An improvement form when it would be nothing.

As they continued to plot however, Dick started to notice strange things in the cave. The bats far above had all gone silent, not even the sound of their wings could be heard. Quickly glancing around Dick noticed the shadows seemed darker, deeper. Like a thick blanket that his something beneath it. Cold adrenaline flooded his system as he realised the thing could be here with them right now. Reaching down Dick grabbed Bruce’s shoulder, shaking it gently. When the man looked up Dick said nothing. Simply pointed towards the largest and darkest of the shadows. Bruce looked and Dick felt him tense. He saw it too.

The large shadow was cast by the batplane.The usual faded grey shadow was now an inky night sky black. As Dick continued to stare he swore the shadow seemed to ripple. Like the surface of a lake as someone threw a stone into it. Whispers emanated from all around them and suddenly Dick realised just how many shadows there were down here. The voices were a cacophony, layers of old and young, male and female, frantic and calm as speaking over each there until a final line had it all dissapear like a bad dream.

Gotham is he, is we

Then he blinked, it was gone. The cave felt normal again. The shadows no longer seemed alive and the bats were screaming to all hell. It was then that Alfred appeared, looking between the two with thinly veiled exasperation at their late night antics. Or was it early morning now? Either way Dick quickly did as he was told. Clearly whatever thing was here seconds ago was afraid of the man, and he didn’t want to find out why.

After being ushered to bed, Dick lay awake and stared at his ceiling. Hopefully, whatever gods were out there would listen to his plea, and he wouldn’t run into that thing again. But clearly that was impossible. It had been in the cave, the most secure place Dick knew. So for the first time ever, dick closed his eyes and let out a silent prayer. That whatever that thing was, it really did want to be friends.

From her place deep below the city, in winding caves that closely resembled arteries, Gotham smiled at her children. Tim, her first, her chosen. The boy who had taken to magic like a duck to water. A boy with endless potential and an incredible future. A boy no longer a boy, but a being. An entity that attracted others without even trying. His soul was pure, his aura comfortable. All beings found themselves drawn to him without even realising. His future was blinding and his choices endless. Tim would be an incredible person one day. And maybe he would join Gotham in godhood. Maybe. 

Then Batman, the second by a thin margin. Whilst he had been hers to begin with he had left. The hand he had been dealt was terrible but she knew it was a must. For without the spark there would be no flames. And oh how brightly did Batman burn. Bright as a bonfire he crackled and grew, burning embers warming her city and protecting her like a guardian angel. And that’s what he was to her. Her knight, her angel in black, her precious second son. The one she had hurt the most, but the one who would do everything in his power to heal her.

Robin, her newest, her third. A boy with a hand just as horrible as her second. But he had a different path. Dick had Bruce, for she had sent him. She knew the siren song of death lingered over his parents, knew of the fate that would befall him should he not have anyone there, so she sent her second to save him. And saved he had been. She preened as her third discovered her second’s identity. smiling as he demanded to help. And she helped, watched over them as they trained until her little Robin could remove the training wheels and fly once more. Free as he had been before. But now the sky was the limit, and she said that limit was nothing.

Each of her children had their unique way of protecting her city, whether it be through sleuthing, physical fighting or acrobatic flips and quips. But Gotham appreciated them all. And with each new case cracked, each criminal put away, each quip that brightened a lost child’s day, Gotham grew stronger. Her powers bubbled up from beneath like a spring. Rejuvenating her and spreading herself further. Maybe one day she would have what she had lost once more. But for now she watched her family, watched and waited as she felt her next Robin roll over in his dreams.

Chapter Text

Dick leapt over the Gotham streets. Wind whipped past him and blew his cloak behind him. Each trick making it swirl against him in the way a bird’s wings would. A Robin taking flight. Flipping over one of the alleys Dick skipped to a stop on one of the rooftops near Wayne tower. Off in the distance he could make out Robinson park, the streetlamps just flickering out till the next night. Arkham was silent for once, the people inside all resting or planning their next great escape. 

Bristol from here looked like a blackout. A single manor being the lone star in the darkness. Wayne Manor.

Bruce had been none too kindly escorted out of the batcave by Alfred that night. Admonishing his ward for forgetting about the Gala HE had planned for this very night. Having watched Bruce be nearly dragged out of the cave by his ear Dick had quickly suited up and ran off into the night. Hoping Alfred’s scolding would be kinder than Bruce’s disappointed stare.

Sitting on the edge Dick kicked his feet out into the nothingness below. He watched the last few people milling around on the streets. Either leaving their day shifts or heading to their night ones. A tremor of the air was the only warning he got. The shadows he was sitting near seemed to darken for a moment before the nearly silent sound of feet on gravel approached. Dick didn’t stare, didn't want to make it uncomfortable. He’d noticed it following him, getting closer and closer each night. Hopefully tonight they could talk. The air temperature dropped slightly and there it was. A humanoid shape, absent of all light, sat beside him and watched the world below with him. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just letting the world around them pass, until he felt those eyes on him. An involuntary shiver ran up his spine as he felt the piercing gaze. He slowly turned, meeting the stare. Vibrant, unearthly blue met his own, held his gaze for a second. Watching his face for a reaction. When none came it grinned, a lazy cheshire of a grin with too many teeth yet not as threatening as it could have been. The darkness swirled, seemingly excited as well. Or maybe it was the wind.

“Hi, My name’s Robin.” Dick held out his hand and was surprised when he watched those claws reach out to meet him. Nails retracting into nothing till all that remained was an impossibly small hand. The skin was soft and warm, like a humans, and the uncanny similarity soothed a fear Dick didn’t realise he felt.

“I know.” The creature hissed. Voices overlapping so that he couldn’t tell which was its own. The sound made his ears ache and his mind screamed to run. But he stayed where he sat, rooted to the spot on the roof as he gently let the hand go.

“What can I call you? I don’t want to keep calling you ‘it’ or ‘shadow’.” The creature tilted its head, the darkness that covered it rippled like water as it hummed to itself. The shadows sang back. A quiet thrumm similar to the sounds you'd hear all round you in the city. The sound you’d hear when you think you’re all alone but could feel something over your shoulder, watching, guarding.

“We are Gotham.” It spoke again, voice less layered yet still undecipherable. This time coming out slightly more masculine. It then tilted its head the other way, neon staring directly into his soul, and smiled again. “And I am her Drake.”

‘Drake’. A word with so many meanings. A male duck, a small English cannon, A christian style name, or an olde word for Dragon. He ran through all the different meanings he could in his mind, finally landing on the final one. So he had been right. He couldn't wait to find Bruce and tell him. He reached over excitedly and grabbed Drake in an over the shoulder hug. His hand passed through the shadows until finally he met cloth. Beneath it’s ebony armour, the creature was thin. A bony shoulder that was barely warm to the touch, despite Dick’s hands being cold from the chill Gotham air. Drake froze at the contact and for a moment, he thought he’d messed up. Acted overly friendly and scared him away. Ruined all their progress. But a second later it let out a human sounding sigh and melted into the touch. Barely there weight leaning against him and soaking up his affection. They sat there, watching the grey Gotham smog pass above until Dick’s teeth were chattering and Drake's body started to shake slightly.

Pulling them both to their feet DIck gave him one final hug before waving and disappearing over the edge of the roof. Grapple shooting out to carry him back to the manor and to a hopefully exhausted Bruce. Too tired to scold him but just awake enough to go over his findings.

Tim watched as Dick swung away, watched his bright colours eventually blend into the distance of one of the Batcave’s many entrances. He wrapped his hands around himself. Chasing that same feeling. His second ever proper hug, from the same that gave him his first. He couldn’t help the slight smile that pulled at his lips. Hopefully they could be proper friends soon. He liked those hugs.

Gotham gently held his shoulders and whispered promises in his ear. Told him they would be closer than that. But now was not the time. The bat family had to grow, had to learn to soar by itself before they could take in her Drake. She would not allow them to hurt him.

The birds with bodies made of winds and voices of thunder swooped down, their mighty cries echoing through the nearly empty streets. Their too loud crackles sounded painful to the unknowing, but Tim heard their meanings. Their kind words as they praised him, told him they loved him. That all would be well soon. Far above the creature of spindle and water opened its eyes. The smog of Gotham cleared as the rains started to drop around him. But not on him, never on him.

Creatures of impermanence shuffled below, huddling under a stoop to avoid the chill the water brought. Fingerless hands playfully poking at each other as they waited for day to break. Tim smiled. Gotham and her curses were his home, his family. And he would do anything to keep them safe.

Little Tim wasn’t aware how soon he would have to do just that.

Chapter Text

Bruce struggled against his bindings, pulling fruitlessly on the ropes. The coarse material simply bit into his wrists harder and cut off the feeling in his hands. He could feel Dick behind him, tied to his own chair. The boy had stopped struggling a few minutes ago, threatened into stopping by the lackey holding a pistol to his face.

It had been a simple mistake. He hadn’t been paying full attention and a goon had got Bruce on the back of the head with a baseball bat. His cowl had taken most of the damage, but it had stunned him long enough for Dick to have been taken hostage. So now they sat, tied back to back whilst Riddler prattled on about tennis courts and mirrors? Honesty he was more concerned with the massive vat of acid the villain kept pacing in front of.

Finally the monologing was over and he waved a hand at his men. Bruce tensed, expecting them to start hitting him, but instead he was met by the sound of Dick’s horrified scream. A frantic hand grabbed his own before he was ripped away and dragged by his hair towards the acid. Still bound and unable to fight back. 

Bruce was frantic now. He managed to slip one of his batarangs out of his utility belt and used the sharp end to saw at his ropes. Riddler had a gloved hand holding DIck’s face in a vice grip, leering over him before turning to Bruce. He raised his arms wide, probably preparing some final parting speech before he threw Dick in. And then he was free. With deadly accuracy he threw the smooth metal. The wing’s edge slicing through the ropes around DIck’s arms and falling to a heap around his knees. There was movement from behind Riddler, a man.

Then there was a sound. The bang of a gun going off. Bruce wasn’t going to make it. He was going to watch his family die in front of him once again. Shot and killed because of the choices he had made. Time slowed down, he reached out, he wouldn't make it. All sound around him was replaced with a tinny ringing in his ears. Then a gust of wind whipped by and the shadows seemed to leap out between Dick and the goon. The familiar shape of ‘Drake’ materialised just as the shot happened. The sickening sound of lead in flesh and the mass of shadows went skidding across the floor. Slowly spinning until it came to rest at his feet.

Then there was silence. No wind, no waves, not even the sound of his own breathing could be heard. He looked up. Dick stood, unharmed. Bruce watched the gun fall from the man’s hands, hit the floor, but still it was silent. He looked down. Crimson blood began to pool around the now thinning shape, the now more human shape. He looked up, watched the gunman turn to flee. And then the world burst into action.

An inhuman screech sounded from the ceiling. Freezing him where he stood. Every hair on his body stood on end and he tensed involuntarily. Three shapes fell from the rafters, landing on the gunman. Their sharp talons ripped into supple flesh and within seconds turned him into mince meat. Their large leathery wings, similar to a bat, hung loosely behind them as they feasted on the man. Needle teeth in unhinged jaws shredding the now unresponsive corpse. Soon all that proved he had existed was a small pool of drying blood on the dusty concrete floor.

The three creatures' faces snapped up, yellow sunken eyes staring at Bruce with such intensity he took a half step back. They turned to face him, skittering across the floors with such fluid acrobatic grace he wondered if they even had bones. They chattered like birds as they approached, until finally they were within arms reach. One stood, now towering a good foot above him, and grinned. Blood dripped down its chin and flesh between its teeth as it leaned down and crowed in his face. The other two leant beside the shadows, vicious claws tracing the shape with such tender care it could have been maternal.

Dick unfroze first. Running over to Drake and dropping to his knees beside them. The women bristled, wings rising defensively and poised to attack. But then the shadows spoke. All around the darkness whistled, hummed and sang. The creatures chittered back, but when no response came, they backed away. They sat on their haunches, a few feet from the shadows, but watched with beady eyes. 

Bruce could finally move, no longer pinned by their stare, and rushed to Dick’s side. He scrambled to try find the wound but all his hands found were shadows. Ice to the touch and slightly pliant like a second skin. Drake’s mouth was moving, but it wasn't loud enough for Bruce to hear him. He leant down to listen in case they were trying to say something. 

“Mother, it’s not time yet… They aren’t ready… My title is third…” The shadows around the three of them hummed. The old lights above flickered and the darkness grew. The warehouse wailed and then the lights burst. Glass raining down and shattered all around them. When Bruce and Dick opened their eyes, Drake was gone and so were the creatures. 

The background noise of the city suddenly started again. The whistling of wind through shattered windows, gentle crashing of the waves on the shore. Yelling from down the road as some drunks got into a fist fight as always. Bruce hadn’t even noticed the city’s silence till it had passed.

“Gotham.” Dick whispered, staring down at his now red gloves. He turned to look at his mentor with carefully concealed horror dawning on his face. “B, he said ‘we are Gotham’ and then talked to his mother, you don’t think…”

And honestly Bruce wasn’t sure. This sounded like something he needed Constantine’s help with.

Pain exploded through Tim’s side as the bullet pierced his left hip. The world turned fuzzy around the edges as his shoulder jarred against the concrete floor. He spun, eventually hitting a pair of leather boots with a soft whine. He could feel the shadows rage, the anger of the beings below had always been held by a thin thread. But now they had hurt HIM, and they were enraged.

The cries of the damned filtered from above. The air shivered as the space distorted between realms. Too long limbs and feathered skin made way for leather wings and loose hanging clothes. The furies. There was a clattering. Screams filled his ears followed by gurgling, then silence. The only noises were his pained gasps and the sounds of flesh being torn from bone.

Gotham held him gently and placed her hands on his wound. He couldn’t help the slight whine that escaped his lips from the pain that sent spots dancing through his vision. Another hand brushed through his hair soothingly. Calming his pounding heart and soothing his ragged breaths. She whispered sweet nothings in his ear as her darkness held his wound tight, till the furies had enacted her revenge.

They scuttled across the floor towards him, concerned yellow eyes shining bright like Topaz. Their soft hands brushed over him, searching for anything else, but finding nothing. Heavy footsteps approached and he watched Robin slide to a stop beside him. Falling to his knees and reaching out to try to help. The furies tensed, not sure if he was friend or foe. Their hands became claws as they prepared for their next kill.

“Friend.”Gotham hummed and their claws returned to rubbing circles along his shoulder.

“Help.” Gotham whistled and their shoulders untensed, wings falling flat against the ground.

“Family.” Gotham sang, and the furies relented. They crawled across the space, but close enough to leap into action should they hurt him in any way.

Gotham ran her hands through his hair again and whispered to him gently. Asked him to tell, to request aid. That his life was more important than the order and that they didn’t have to know. He was careful, smart, she had seen it.

“Mother, it’s not time yet for me to join the bats. They aren’t ready for another vigilante. My title is third of the Robins and third I will become.” Each word felt like fire, burning him from the inside out. His eyes stung as they watered but he would not waver. Gotham sighed and placed a loving kiss on his forehead and raised her eyes to the hellions. Their heads rotated at her orders and they spread their wings. Flying up into the air without disturbing their surroundings. The lightbulbs exploded, glass raining down all around.

Tim felt the shadow start to swallow him, pulling him between locations. A hand grabbed his own, gloved and yet so warm. They squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Then he let go and slipped into nothingness. He blinked and he was laid on his carpeted bedroom floors. Finally alone he let the tears run down his face silently. 

Tim knew he had to wait, that there were still several years before he could insert himself into the Wayne’s lifes. Knew that the second would have to die for the third to rise to fill his place. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Knowing what was to come, that he would be loved, but that he had years to wait. It made him wonder why he did this at all. If he even had to be a Robin, when he was a Drake.

Gotham ran her hands along his back. Her voice in his ear promised him the future he deserved. And so Tim lay there, nestled on her lap as he cried himself into a restless sleep. The only good thing from that night was that Gotham’s chosen now believed. And with their belief came strength. Strength she would use to protect her son.

Chapter Text

Timothy is 9 years old now. 9 years old and his parents have decided he no longer needs a caretaker. The Drake manor’s revolving door of nannies had finally slammed shut and he was alone. His parents were off on another adventure and pulling in more lingering hatred from new or old beings. But every night he lay in his bed, curled into the darkness as his friends watched, guarded. Tim was never truly alone. 

His parents had called that morning, or well evening, morning for them. Hong Kong this time how fun. Tim leaned over the laptop screen, trying to soak in every detail he could. Jack was sat back on what seemed to be a very expensive hotel couch. He held a half full glass of some sort of alcohol in his left hand. His right rubbed up and down Janet’s back as she leant forward to adjust her earrings. His eyes locked on the steady motions of his Father’s hand. He wondered what that must feel like.

“Timothy, are you listening to me?” He jolted out of his thoughts to give his Janet a smile.

“Of course Mother.” He could feel her eyes appraising him for a moment longer before she shook her head with a wry smile. He let out the breath he’d been holding. He couldn’t waste this time spent with his parents getting lost in his thoughts.

“Very well then. As I was saying. There’s a Gala at the Wayne family estate tomorrow night and we won’t be able to attend. Be a good boy and go in the Drake name Timothy dear.” Tim sat up straight at those words. Words he’d heard over and over. 

“Now now Timothy, that isn’t how a Drake should act.”

“Come on Timothy you’re not a baby, you're 7 now. Be a good boy.”

“Be good, for the Drake family’s honour.”

Be good be good be good, The Drake name, pride, honour fame glory GOD! Tim wished he could be anyone else. But he had a part in this messed up play they called ‘family’. So Timothy Drake smiled sweetly at his parents on the other end of the globe and nodded. The next half hour was spent with his parents telling him the details of the gala and who he should interact with to further Drake industries for them. Then they were gone. Hung up without so much as a ‘love you’ or even a ‘goodbye’. All he got was a “Be good Timothy.”

And Timothy would. Timothy had tried so hard all his life to be this ‘good’ that his parents wanted from him. But he could feel the mask of the perfect son he played starting to crack. The pieces flaking off and revealing the boy beneath with every second he left it on the side. Ignored in favour of simply being Tim. And yet Tim wasn’t scared. He knew that Gotham would love him no matter what. That he would always have her as his mother, even if his biological parents didn’t want him anymore. But for now Tim would continue the façade. 

He stood and closed the laptop, grimacing as he felt his stitches shift. Tim placed a hand over his torso and breathed for a minute, waiting for the pain to blur enough that he could walk to the kitchen and get more painkillers. Soon he stood there, swallowing the small pills dry as he slowly sank to the ground. Tim closed his eyes and leant his head back against the cabinet door and just existed. Allowing time for the wonders of modern medicine to numb the screaming ache in his body.

Just last week he had been shot saving the bats. And whilst now he could think it over and had at least 4 different ways to deescalate the situation without injuring himself, he had panicked. Tim had entered the warehouse when Dick hadn’t appeared at their usual meetup spot and had seen the weapon trained at his friend’s head. He didn’t have time to think, he just acted. Next thing he knew he was a heap on the floor and the gates to Tartarus had opened and the three torturers of Hades had turned the man into past-tense. 

Despite all the gifts Gotham gave him he was still at his core, human. So he suffered the slow healing abilities he had and simply had to grit his teeth and bear the excruciating feeling of his body healing. Tim sighed and ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair. Carefully pushing himself up into a standing position to walk towards his bedroom. Tonight was Friday, the day he usually met Dick on their roof. He would just have to be careful to avoid ripping his stitches. Again.

He flicked off the lights, having had them on for his parent’s benefit. He didn’t need lights anymore. Batman and Robin’s belief in Gotham made her stronger, made HIM stronger. Taking a deep breath Tim felt the shadows wrap around his human vessel. A form he hadn’t felt comfort in since he died that fateful day all those years ago. This was him now. A monster of shadows and spindled limbs. Incomprehensible. Gotham tutted at his choice but let him go, she knew how stubborn her Drake could be and wanted not to fight him. She knew how to protect him better now. And it would start with the little rat her Bat had called tonight. With a final parting kiss she fled across the rooftops with her chosen. On the other end of the city, another part of her was watching. Waiting. Ready to pounce on the one who bore the names of Conman, Detective and Hellblazer.

Dick sat on the roof, feet kicking over the edge as he fiddled with the little bag on his lap. The brown paper crinkled with every move. The feeling again, his hair stood on end. The air got colder and his mind screamed to hide, that a predator was near. Dick turned and smiled instead. Drake seemed to pause for a moment but quickly scurried over. Sitting just out of Dick’s reach but also letting his legs(?) hang off into nothing. Dick wasn’t quite sure if they were legs as they kind of tapered off and blew off into the wind like a mist but oh well.

“I got you this.” He quickly shoved the bag into what he thought could be Drake’s lap and watched the clawless hands appear to grab onto the cheap paper. Blue stars darted down to look at the bag before very slowly reaching inside and pulling out the camera. It was larger than most, matte black and having clearly been customised. Dick watched Drake turn it over in his hands before holding it out to him. His heart dropped.

“Do you not like it?” Drake seemed startled at this question and did his best attempt at what was probably a head shaking ‘no’. 

“You take, of us.” Drake’s voice was less horror and more human now. Their months of bonding finally paid off. Dick beamed at him and quickly snatched up the camera, fiddling with it until he had a solid enough grip to hold it at arm's length. He quickly placed his other arm around Drake and pulled him close, feeling the creature tense for a second before melting into him. 

“Say cheese!” He then realised that Drake probably didn’t know what that meant and was about to explain when he fumbled and pressed the shutter button. The flash that Dick had thought off burst up on the top of the machine and bright white light flooded his vision, blinding him temporarily. He dropped the camera onto his lap to rub his eyes when a screech filled the air.

Dick didn’t really know how to describe the sound Drake made. All Dick did know was one second they were pressed together in a half hug, the next he was clutching his ears as he vaguely felt gravel hitting his back. He turned to see a black blob of writhing snarling shadows backing up to the other end of the roof. Small stones and loose tiles being flung in the being’s haste to escape. Dick’s hands fell into his lap and he watched as those once warm eyes turn icy, glinting teeth bared at him as all the darkness around them vibrated in barely held rage.

In the blink of an eye he was gone. Vanished just like that night he had sunk away in the warehouse. God he’d screwed up and now he had a rogue of his own. Batman would be so pissed at him. Dick looked down at the camera in his lap and paused at the slight red sheen on his gloves. Blood. The scream had made his ears bleed. No wonder he couldn't hear anything. With a heavy sigh Dick picked up the camera to throw away when he saw the picture it had printed. 

It was the one they had just taken. Dick’s beaming smile leaned up towards the camera, domino mask pressed together where his eyes were obviously closed. But everything below his chin was covered in darkness. Darkness that was coming from Drake. Because staring up at the camera wasn’t the usual swirling shadows, but a face. A young boy with his expression twisted in obvious pain. Wide, icy blue eyes staring up at the camera. Tousled black hair that sat slightly lopsided on his head and a wide mouth with teeth just slightly too sharp to be normal.

Holy identity reveal Batman, Drake was a person under all that. Glancing around Dick quickly tucked the picture into the little hidden pocket of his costume, making sure it was secure. Holding the camera tightly he launched himself back to the Batcave as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t tell Batman about this unless he had to. He didn’t want to lose his new friend’s trust. If he even had any left.

Constantine was raised a wizard. Taught spells he had to study and train to master over the years. A mage who trained since childhood to harness the unknown. The other world, the darkness people didn’t want to acknowledge at the edges of their vision. Magic so deep rooted in his growth it was a part of his very being. A string of the arcane infused in his very DNA. That with a single tug, could undo him to his very soul.

But Constantine was also a Warlock. He had traded with those that considered themselves ‘higher’ just because their kind had more research on the unknown. Bargained parts of himself he no longer needed. Granting him their boons and their constant eye. Sulfuric breath always running down his neck as they waited for him to screw up, to give them a chance to claim his abilities as their own. So safe to know Constantine knew ancient beings and power very, VERY well.

So when Constantine stepped into Gotham for the first time, his first thought was how much money this ‘Batman’ had been willing to pay for his services.

His second thought was nothing but a silent scream as every nerve in his body froze. His very essence turning belly up like a wounded animal trying to beg for mercy. Joints locking and half burned cigarette falling to the floor.

His third thought was three words repeated like a holy mantra until his quivering body was able to move again. ‘DON’T PISS YOURSELF’ The words repeated over and over in his mind as shaking fingers fished a new cigarette from his pocket and only fumbled twice to light it.

Dontpissyourselfdontpissyourselfdontpissyourself

So like said, Constantine knows higher powers. Remembers how it felt to have their gaze boring into him as he danced in their domain. Watching his every breath and just waiting for an excuse, for him to break some unknown rule they had set so they could squash him like the bug he was. And for probably the first time since he was a boy, Constantine felt helpless. Because that was what Gotham was. An icy stare that had his very skeleton trying to jump out of his skin and run off, daring him to try anything.

But that wasn’t all. All around him he could feel more eyes. Wraiths, no something more, Voror. Malevolent spirits turned guardians that hissed between the cracks in the walls like smoke, beady stares watching every twitch.  Below the ground trembled, creatures that shunned the light tunnelling below, threatening to drag him down if he so much as glanced in the wrong direction. The stars above, not hidden by smog, blinked. Burning light watching the city like a warden.

So many Demons, monsters and entities that his skin crawled. So many horrors that normally would be at each other’s proverbial throats were content to coexist here. Something here was so interesting it had made all these things agree to work together to guard it. Something like Gotham, or someone. Like this mysterious shadow the Bat had called him over.

The night shook and everything seemed to freeze. No wind, no voices, not even the ever present sound of violence. Nothing filled the air, and then there it was. Stood before him was a human figure of blank space. Like someone had taken a knife and just carved a hole in the world before him. A very human, very female shaped hole. It tilted it’s head, expressionless face watching him. He gulped, tried to step away but found himself frozen again. Mouth like sandpaper as he fumbled over his words.

‘Hellblazer’ the shadows hissed and he felt his stomach roll. The title he so proudly wore, had saved the world over and over to earn, sounded like less than dirt in this creature’s venomous words. ‘You enter my lands only because I allow it. My bat chose you but I care not for your tricks. So I warn you. Harm my chosen and you shall pay. My bat, birds and Drake are to be treated with reverence in my domain.’

“But how will I know who your chosen are?” Constantine finally found his voice and spoke slowly, not even caring how his voice cracked under the pressure. His dignity he could life without if it meant getting away from this unscathed. Gotham, becasue this must be the very city herself, tilted her head the other way. Glinting white appearing in a mock smile.

“You will know.” And it was gone. The sudden pressure that had covered him like a lead blanket suddenly dissipated. Making him dizzy at the sudden lightness he felt. He could still feel things watching him, politely sticking to the shadows, but making their presence known to him. Then there was the Bat, appearing out of the very shadows Constantine wanted to avoid.

“John Constantine.” Growled the vigilante. But after the sudden death he had just faced it sounded so human he almost cried. But he didn’t. Instead he nodded at the Kevlar clad man.

“Batman I presume.” And that was all the pleasantries they shared. Batman ushered him to his car, parked in an alley that set his nerves alight. The drive was silent until they pulled up in the god honest bat cave. A genuine cave, filled with bats and bat-themed gadgets. Real, living breathing bats. A boy stood just to the side of the car’s (bat-car??) parking spot and waved. Bright grin plastered on his face as he waved with so much excitement it made his head spin. Well either that or the scaly green undies he wasn’t sure.

Sighing, Constantine resigned himself to a night of ass kissing and barely swerved questions. The thousands of beady eyes on the ceiling turned and watched him. Bloody hell he needs a fucking drink.

Chapter Text

Constantine wandered through the ‘batcave’, eyeing the strange trophies that were lit up on their pedestals. Beside them were all manner of vehicles, ranging from plane to bike. All bat themed of course. He flicked his lighter. Open and closed, open and closed, open and closed. The sound of the metal lid catching and releasing echoed through the expansive network of tunnels. Footsteps, light and barely there approached from behind. Spinning quickly Constantine was met with a strange sight.

Children. There were children standing before him. The previous child had split and turned into two somehow. Both had messy black hair, and black bat shaped masks plastered to their faces. Though the kid on the left had olive skin and seemed to be in his late teens whilst the kid on the right was more honey toned and barely pubescent. Both stood there, one dressed in what was probably a hero costume whilst the other stood in regular joggers and a hoodie. White lenses looked up at him unblinking and he couldn't help the slight shudder that ran through him.

He could see it here too. The shadows around them that the lights cast, swirling around these children's feet almost playfully. He stared at their feet, watching the darkness curl in on itself before the sound of heavy footsteps broke his concentration, and everything was normal.

Constantine glanced up, eyes locking with the bat as he approached. Stalking across the cave floor until he stopped beside a massive desk. Several monitors surrounded it, each far too large to be comfortable to look at. With a quick gesture he was ushered over by the two spooky not-quite-children. Both wearing equally excited grins on their little faces. Batman sat in the chair, typing rapidly as he pulled up pages after pages of information. Spreading them out on the myriad of screens. He then turned to Constantine with an expectant face.

“Oh wait, let me translate. That face means ‘what do you think’.” The superhero dressed child stepped forward and pointed his gloved hand at his mentor? Batman simply grunted and turned back to the computer screens. Little hero beamed at the apparently correct translation and bounced back to his brother? Already feeling a migraine coming on, Constantine turned to the screens and read through the lines of text. All around it was very good information, if this wasn’t a magical entity. Though the note that the creature seemed to have a child’s mentality was worrying. 

“This information is a start, but it’s not what I need. I’m gonna need to run a few tests of my own to get to the bottom of this. Not that Gotham wants me to.” He threw in that last sentence as an afterthought, eyes scanning the lone grainy picture of the entity. Unfortunately these bat people had some sort of super hearing and all turned to him with quizzical expressions. Sighing Constantine wanted nothing more than to light a cigarette where he stood, but there were children and goddamnit he was trying to be a better influence.

“Your precious Gotham threatened me when I entered city limits. Called me by my title and warned me to ‘revere her bat. Birds and Drake.’. You’re the bat.” He pointed at Batman before spinning to the two children. Their faces lighting up at being involved in such an important case. “So I assume that makes you two the bird and Drake.”

“Birds.” Spoke the Bat. Constantine swivelled to face Batman again, eyebrow raised in question but saying nothing. Batman sighed and gestured to the children. “They are my birds. We called you because of this ‘Drake’ creature.”

The clinking of metal on stone echoed through the silent room. The small metal lighter bounced before rolling to a stop somewhere under the pointlessly massive desk. Constantine stared at Batman for a second before starting to speak and gesture frantically.

“You’re kidding me right. I just told you your city is sentient and told me to not even breathe wrong around this Drake. And you want me to what, track it down? Hunt it and send it somewhere else? Hate to break it to ya mate but I prefer life.” He bent down to grab his lighter, only for not-hero child to be holding it out for him. He stared at it before taking it carefully, slipping it onto one of his pockets with a quick thanks. “Look, I’ll try and ask around. Talk to it. But I can't promise I can remove it Bats. Your city protects it as one of her own, like you, and I don't feel like pissing in another god's cereal today.”

Batman let out one of his vague grunts and Constantine rolled his eyes. Pulling out a notebook he started to write a list of things he would need to start investigating. He was a few items in when the sound of polished leather shoes on metal stairs sounded from above.

“Master Bat, I do hope you’re not planning on leaving your guest and the young masters down here all night.” Bloody hell that’s a  butler. Prim pressed uniform, spotless white gloves and a haughty raised brow to show his displeasure. Strangest of all, THE Batman shrunk in on himself at the scolding. He opened his mouth to argue but a swift glare from the butler had him snapping it shut. Batman, defeated by his own butler. 

“If we are to ask Sir Constantine for help with our magical guest, I believe we should show some courtesy. Maybe upstairs over tea whilst the children change?” It was spoken like a question, but clearly it was anything but. Batman sulked, dragging himself off into a changing room and returning moments later. Regular clothes but still wearing the cowl. “Master Bruce, no capes upstairs if you would be so kind.” The children giggled as their mentor, Bruce, was once again scolded and he grumbled to himself. Then the masks were gone, and before Constantine stood Bruce fucking Wayne. Billionaire playboy of Gotham and his two children. Was it too late to up his fee?

—-----

Tim lay curled up on a floor somewhere in the Drake manor. His entire body ached, itching like he was covered in insects. He writhed and whined, unable to feel comfortable in his own skin. Ever since the incident with the camera an hour ago he had felt like this. Limbs twitchy and weak, body burning as if he’d run a mile. His breathing had slowly returned from laboured gasping to normal, but his head swam with lightheadedness. Gotham had returned not too long ago, running a hand along his spine gently. Soothing him. Trying to get him to uncurl and stretch out to breathe better. 

Tim had no clue why he felt like this. Maybe it was something to do with the feeling of being skinned when that sudden light had erupted before him. Was it the camera? Some secret weapon to take him out? No, he and Dick were getting closer, Tim would even call him a friend. It had to be an accident. He racked his swirling mind for answers. Trying to figure out what the issue could have been. The camera wasn’t the newest for sure, something older. But all the little gimmicks were clearly custom modifications. What could have …oh OH! Tim’s an idiot. Older cameras have silver in them. Aww man was he weak to silver now? Like a vampire. That would be fun to explain if he walked past an old mirror and simply didn’t appear in it. No that couldn’t be it either. Some of his jewellery and cutlery was silver. He would have noticed this burning sensation sooner if that was the issue.

Could it have been his form. He never tended to walk around the house shrouded in his shadows. Tentatively Tim headed down to the kitchen and opened the special drawer. Handcrafted silver cutlery that only ever saw the light of day on very special occasions lay before him on velvet cushions. Reaching out, Tim carefully picked up one of the spoons, not willing to risk something sharp. It sat in his hand, cold as ever, and definitely not painful. Taking a breath he called the shadows on his other hand before passing the spoon over. Immediately pain like a white hot iron ran up his arm. Yelping he quickly dropped the offending object and watched it clatter against the hardwood floors. Great, a weakness.

Sighing he quickly put the spoon away. Shutting the drawer to never touch again. Running a hand through his hair Tim grimaced at the little pieces of gravel that were stuck there. In his panic to escape he had dragged himself backwards across the roof. Drip. The sound of something wet dropping had Tim looking around. Was the tap leaking? Was a window open? He finally looked down and saw the red that had bloomed across his midriff. Shit, he’d pulled his stitches. Tomorrow's Gala is going to suck. 

—-------------

Constantine held the canteen of water over his head and glanced down at the children. Unmasked and watching with complete interest as he swirled a finger through the water. It had taken him 10 minutes to convince bat, Bruce, that no this wasn’t dangerous and the worst that would happen is wet clothes. The butler had simply handed him a mop, bucket and large jug of water before ushering him back downstairs. He sighed and finished stirring before starting the chant. The kids’ eyes sparkled as he slowly poured the water over his head and glanced around.

The subtle shifting of the shadows became writhing masses of inky tendrils. The pools of light were nebulas, blindingly bright and searing heat. The cavernous room extended further than the human eye could comprehend as every single being in the room made itself known. Flaming eyes and invisible spines. Gnashing maws, snapping tails and millions of legs padding across the floor. Far above the bats chattering came out as wails, low throaty cries as a few noticed his gaze and swooped. Small creatures with teeth like razors and eyes with inhuman knowledge. Around the cave a loud knocking echoed.

THUMP   THUMP      THUMP

Constantine quickly shook off the water and batted at the now harmless bat that got in his face. He swatted it away and looked around quickly, but the sound had faded to a dull echo. He spun back and there was only one kid now, great. He grabbed the mop and started to clean the water pooling around his feet.

“Gotta say kid, your cave is fu- funky.” 

“You can say fuck, we’re old enough to know what that means.” Constantine jumped a foot in the air as he turned to see Jason standing right behind him. Dick (seriously who calls themself that) came running up with a frown.

“Jay you can’t say fuck, Alfie says its a bad word.” Jason stared up at him with a blank expression for a few seconds before a wide grin spread across his face. The kind of grin that's all teeth and promises pain. The child turned on the spot and ran to where Bruce was watching.

“BBRRUUCEEEEE Dick said the f-word!!!”

“He said it first!!”

The two children squawked at each other whilst Bruce massaged his temple. Constantine grimaced and turned back towards the tunnel system, trying to spot the coblynau but ending up face to face with a woman. Her clothes were loose robes that flowed off her and disappeared into the darkness below. Her skin as dark as the night. Where her face would be she wore a mask, splintering on the edges but whole in the centre. Her hair was long, curling around her delicately and shining a pale silver like moonlight. Every hair on his body stood on end as he made a sound similar to a dying balloon. His magic being sapped from him at an alarming rate as she manifested herself. Fucking hell he hates gods.

—-------

A wheeze like a dying animal echoed through the cave and all three bats looked up, only to freeze at the woman they saw. She stood just above 5ft and her entire being radiated danger warmth family. The woman stared at Constantine for a minute before turning to them. And whilst they couldn’t see past the mask, it felt like she smiled at them. Then she was gone. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Constantine fell to his knees. Immediately Bruce was beside him, checking him over. Constantine glared up at him as he was manhandled to the medbay.

“I fukin told ya, She likes you too much. She gave me another warning, bout tomorrow, said to remove all silver in the house.” Bruce laid him down as he tried to figure out what that meant. Was something going to happen tomorrow with one of the silver knives, assassination attempt? Or maybe one of the silver trays would be used like some sort of frisbee. He was so caught up in his own thoughts he didn't notice his eldest approaching Constantine with a guilty expression.

“Um, mister magician sir. Are monsters weak to silver or something?” Not finding the energy to talk he made a so-so motion with his hands and the kid turned even paler. He gulped before leaning in and whispering. “Can I, uhh, Is there a way to make silver not hurt them?” 

Again he made a so-so motion with his hands and this time the kid lit up with joy. He then grabbed his brother and dragged him upstairs. Presumably to tell their butler to clear the house of all silver appliances. Constantine reached out and grabbed Bruce’s wrist, startling him from his brooding.

“If she wants it gone from the house, He’ll probably be visiting soon. Ring any bells?” Bruce pondered for a second before a look of realisation dawned across his face.

“Tomorrow. We’re hosting a gala to welcome Jason into the family. They may be a guest.” Constantine nodded and allowed himself to relax back into the bed. Bruce watched him warily before pulling out a tablet and typing furiously. When he looked up Constantine was watching him with a raised eyebrow. Damn the British and their judgmental expressions. “I’m writing notes on everything I know about Drake, it might make it easier for me to find them.” Bruce shifted his chair closer and showed the mage what he was writing. The two of them spent the next few hours swapping ideas as Bruce told him every detail he remembered from his interactions with Drake.

Never posted an image before so hope that works

thank you so much user Rocksc for the amazing art

Chapter Text

Tim stood along the wall, glass of apple juice in one hand and the other in his pocket. He watched the people around him as they talked at but never really TO each other. Janice Porter, New district attorney and technical partner of two-face, smiled garishly and showed her hand. A new ring with a diamond that would have cost millions if legally obtained glinted in the cool lighting and set her conversation partners on another tirade.

Near the banquet table, Cressida Clarke, child of the owls and current target of the architect, pursed her lips in a grimace as the man before her attempted to flirt so badly he almost took a dip in the champagne fountain. Her mission for this gala would thankfully go unfulfilled as her mark had left half an hour ago due to a ‘sudden case of food poisoning.’

Jason Todd, new child of Bruce Wayne and future Robin, stood surrounded by the high society of Gotham as they picked him apart like vultures. Their gleaming eyes hidden behind masks of sympathy for his past. Perfectly manicured hands held over their mouths as they asked double edged questions that had the poor boy almost backed into a corner. 

Tim watched Jason get mobbed for a moment more before he felt Gotham gently nudge him forward. ‘Go, make a friend out of the shadows.’ Tim sighed, put his juice down on a nearby table and approached the flock of preening socialites.

Constantine stood in the corner, silver platter balanced on his hand whilst he glanced around the lavish Celebration. People of all ages were pressed into this large room and complaining about their third house or some other ridiculous problems. He hadn’t seen anything strange yet, but had seen the way Jason had gotten mobbed by the rich snots. The poor boy was subtly taking half steps back and deflecting their questions with a slightly stilted voice. Constantine was just thinking he should find one of the other Waynes when his body froze.

His mind screamed at him danger, that a predator had its eye on him. But nothing had shifted. Everything was the same. With limbs of lead and muscles frozen like the arctic winds Constantine turned his head slowly. The prickling sensation on the back of his neck turned into a full body itch as he watched a boy, maybe 10, gracefully approach Jason. His cool blue eyes darted between the rich Gothamites that had surrounded the newly dubbed Wayne with thinly veiled distaste.

Then the kid was closer, and Constantine got a better look at him. Or rather what was latched onto him.

On his shoulders, two hands. Shadows barely visible even to him with the spell he’d cast. They seemed to be pushing him towards Jason, gently nudging the boys closer together. Then he took a look at the boy. Carefully cataloguing everything he could. Watched the boy’s features shift, like a mirage on a hot day. For a split second Constantine saw beneath the glamour.

That wasn’t a child. Their skin was translucent and had a strange sheen to it like a thin layer of sweat. Black veins branching across their small bony figure and accentuating the deep unnatural blue of their eyes. Purple lips pulled taut over blinding white teeth that leered at him just a little too sharp. At him. Those icy blue irises were locked on him now, a single eyebrow quirked in vague interest. Immediately they changed their direction and stopped a few steps from him, just out of arms reach.

“Hellblazer.” The kid spoke, voice even and completely human. A puff of mist escaped his mouth as he spoke, the very temperature around them dropping a few degrees. A single black tinged hand grabbed the edge of his tray and pushed it out of the way. “Mother told me you were around, I didn’t expect it to be so close though.” Mother? oh FUCKING BOLLOCKS. Drake. And sure enough, leant over his shoulder was Gotham. Her incorporeal hands ruffled the boy's hair with motherly fondness.

Clearly the kid saw his shock, his sly smile turning into a wicked grin. Razored teeth on full display. The kid turned, back against the wall so he could continue to watch the party without looking odd for talking to wait staff. Smart too, this is getting more complicated than expected.

“The Bat called you right? What does he want from me.” The kid didn’t so much as twitch, body completely neutral as he spoke under his breath. Eyes locked on Jason as a woman leaned down to grin in his face and make another barely excusable comment. He eyed Dick and Bruce on the other end of the room, both caught up in their own conversations.

“They just want to know what you are kid. Whether they can trust you to work with them in the future.” 

“I’m pretty sure I proved that trust when I took a bullet for Dick, but sure.” The kid hissed with such sudden venom that Constantine took a half step back. The lightbulb behind them fizzled as the light flared slightly. The anger in the kid’s voice distracted him long enough for the kid to slip away, having noticed something. He had used Robin's name. He knew who they were under the mask. Just then, the boy in question appeared out of the crowd and ran up to him. 

“Where did that kid go?” His blue eyes darted around the area before he spun to look around the room.

“Not too sure, asked for a juice then walked off when he realised I didn't have any.” The lie rolled off his tongue far easier than Constantine had expected. He watched as Dick deflated slightly before waving and quickly starting off in another direction. Constantine picked up his tray again, grabbing one of Bruce’s alcohol free drinks and made his way over to the peacocking billionaire. 

“Drink sir?” He bowed slightly and offered the glass. Bruce took it with an exaggerated stumble, playing into his tipsy bordering drunk act well. “Found Drake, you were right he's just a kid. Also said something about being shot. He's got a human body so he might still be injured.” Then with a practised smile Constantine turned and left the hall altogether. Whatever happened now wasn't his problem.

Dick glanced around the room as he smiled and nodded at the woman before him. Her boney hand pinched his cheek in mock affection as she asked how he was doing and if he had ‘a special someone’ yet, and how she had a granddaughter around his age, what a coincidence. The sounds around him were still muffled, his eardrums recovering from what had happened only a few days prior. A flash of someone small making their way through the crows caught his eye and he placed his glass on a nearby tray to give himself a few seconds to look closer.

The person broke through the crowd and seemed to be heading towards Jason before they paused and turned suddenly, eyes catching on Constantine in his waiter getup. Then the kid approached and seemed to be talking to them. A brief flicker of surprise crossed the British man's face before he shook his head and the kid turned, leaning against the wall near him and glanced around the room. Dick quickly turned back to his conversation, turning so he could keep an eye on them, because that was the kid.

Those same droopy eyes and pitch black hair now gelled back formally. He wasn't favouring one of his sides however so he must have some sort of healing ability after that injury last week. His skin was still pale but that was probably because of the lack of sun in Gotham and not something else. Then the woman he was talking to patted his shoulder condescendingly and made her way to speak to someone her age. Dick immediately beelined for Constantine and Drake, weaving through the crowd with practised grace. 

Drake turned to snarl something at Constantine before his eyes locked with Dick. For a second the temperature plummeted and Drake's eyes widened when he realised Dick recognised him. With a scowl the kid was gone. Lost between the many bodies of the elite. Dick moved a little faster, as fast as he could in ‘polite company’.

“Where did that kid go?” He glanced around the room, eyes darting to every bit of black around the kid's head height. 

“Not too sure, asked for a juice then walked off when he realised I didn't have any.” The words were smooth, spoken like the truth. But Dick had seen the split second of anger Drake had directed the mage. Lips pulled into a snarl to bare his teeth at the man, almost animalistic. He continued to look around the room until finally he caught the boy, just as he disappeared down the corridors towards the washrooms. DIck tried to press his way between the crowds, but the orchestra switched songs and swarms of socialites pushed past him onto the dancefloor and the kid was gone. Someone approached and Dick had no choice but to smile and nod. Taking the woman’s hand and spinning around the room with her practically pressing herself onto him. He was so busy trying to stop her roaming hands he never noticed the man following the boy.

Chapter Text

I'm warning again, very in depth death through eyeball stabbing and attempted Child Sexual assault. Read at own risk or skip to read summary at end notes

Tim walked through the opulent halls of Wayne manor. Passing the first second and even third ‘powder rooms’ until he arrived at the fourth and final one. Just past here was a closed door with a sign on it reading ‘Staff only’, as no Gotham elite would ever step through a door for their ‘lessers’. Snobs the lot of them. Tim slipped through the open bathroom door and sighed at the over the top room. Pristine white tiled floors stretched out to black wooden walls. A large beige marble shelf with strangely shaped metal was probably the sinks, stylised doors that led to stalls and a dark red chaise lounge beside a floor to ceiling mirror. He felt Gotham squeeze his shoulders gently and whisper she had to check on someone before fading away into the manor.

Tim eyed himself in the mirror a moment before sighing again and moving to the sink. He waved his hands around until he eventually figured out how to get the water to work, wetting his hands and running them through his hair. Attempting to tame his steadily maddening hair after having who knows how many people ruffle his head condescendingly. He was so busy trying to sort his appearance he didn’t notice the other man approach until he stood in the doorway, blocking escape.

“You’re a meta aren't you? Nobody seemed to react to you but I can see what you really are.” Tim startled at the sudden voice, turning to face the man that leant against the entryway so casually. The man’s hazel eyes bore into Tim’s own, a smug smirk on his face and Tim felt fear flood through him. He recognised the man distantly. The name eluded him but he was certain this was one of the people his parents wanted him to get along with for Drake industries.

“Wh-What?” The man’s smile only widened and he took three quick steps until he was right in Tim’s face, leering down at him. Tim found himself taking a reflexive step back, then another. The two moved almost in sync until Tim felt the smooth texture of the mirror behind him.

“You wouldn’t want me to tell anyone now would you. After all, the bat hates metas in Gotham. Might lock you up in Arkham and everything.” The slight fear Tim had felt was changing into full blown terror. He knew who was in Arkham, what happened within those broken halls. And whilst deep down he knew that Bruce wouldn’t do that, what Constantine had said earlier played into it. ‘Whether they can trust you.’ If saving the life of Bruce’s kid wasn’t enough to garner trust Tim didn’t know what would work. And being outed as an undead child possessed by the city he swore to protect would definitely throw a bump in the road.

Tim’s back was pressed up against the mirror,hands splayed out beside him and palms pressed into the reflective surface. Slowly he slid to the floor, hoping the man wouldn’t want to dirty himself in a public lavatory.  But the man knelt before him, hands outstretched to grab him, and Tim wanted nothing more than to sink into the darkness and disappear. But the bright lights reflected so no shadows large enough fell around him, and mirrors were made of silver. Would escaping be worth the burning agony that would cover his entire back and arms? The tingling pain he still felt in his hand from yesterday meant maybe not. Who knows how long a wound like that would take to heal. 

“Go away!” Tim cried out, but it sounded weak even to him. Nobody would be able to hear him down the long hallway and multiple doors. The man shuffled closer, large legs pressing Tim into the wall as clammy hands pressed around him, boxing him in. The man’s breaths were coming faster, moist air fogging up the mirror and sending a shiver down Tim’s spine. Gotham was tugging something towards him but it would get here too late. Tim tried to shrink further into the mirror, the cool surface grounding him enough to not drift into a separate headspace. Mirror floor man mirror light breath mirror what could he-! Mirror!

Tim started mumbling to himself, hoping that whatever version he summoned would at least arrive fast. Would be vicious enough to protect him but not do anything to whoever Gotham was tugging towards him. Though if it was Constantine maybe it didn’t matter.

Sweaty hands gripped the collar of his shirt, fumbling to undo the small buttons as Tim continued to mutter to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. But every brush of skin against his own sent feelings of bile rising up his throat. A hand trailed down his chest and finally, FINALLY, he muttered the final string of words and felt the energy in the room shift. 

The solid material behind him became almost like jelly, ripples spreading across it as the lights in the room flickered. He felt the man pause, probably looking around. The door slammed shut and the man jumped. His hand finally left Tim and he felt slightly more normal. He managed to crack open his eyes and watched as the room dimmed as one after another the lightbulbs above blew. The faint electrical humming fizzled out until only the one furthest away was left. A scream, a woman’s, fills the air and the man freezes. Slowly turning to look not at Tim, but behind him.

The mirror ripples again and Tim feels the surface beneath him give as something pushes out from behind it. The man’s breath hitches and he stumbles away so fast he ends up falling flat on his back. Limbs flailing as he tried desperately to crawl away whilst keeping his eye on whatever he had seen. And then Tim sees her too. It’s a woman, dressed in a loose white nightgown with blood splattered all over the hem and neckline. Her feet were bare and her limbs were just bone. Her skin ghostly pale as long black hair fell down her back in waves. She took a step, then another. Each movement was jerky and unnatural. Limbs twisting and popping in ways nobody should as she advanced on the man with supernatural speed. He barely managed to let out a cry before she was on him. Skeletal thumbs pressed into the man’s face until with a pop, his eyes were removed.

He screamed, blood running down his face as her sharp nails dug further into his skull. Her fingers gripped his face so tight he couldn’t even tremble. Eventually his screams tapered off to a gurgling, then silence. She stood for a second, then in several quick movements, started to rip the man apart. Limbs and cloth scattered through the air as blood sprayed all over the floor. Dying the white floor a sickly red. She let out a wail and abandoned the corpse, fresh blood drenched her as she slowly turned towards Tim. But there was no trace of the rage from earlier. Her pitch black eyes held only concern as she glided across the slick floors towards him. Her bloodied hands ran through his hair as she scratched at his scalp, checking him over as he tried to process what had just happened. His eyes darted over to the pile of mush mere feet away every now and then. Just as he was starting to calm down he felt Gotham warn him that someone was here, not dangerous to him. But letting him know. Then the door burst open and in charged Dick Grayson.

Dick sighed as the song finally ended and he disentangled himself from the woman who kept trying to push her chest into his face. He tried to duck away in the crowds but soon found himself cornered by more young women, all vying for a dance. To try to convince him to spend a night, or his life, with them. Dick’s eyes darted around the room, trying to find some sort of escape, when he felt something tugging on his shoulders. He tried to subtly look but all he saw was empty air. It happened again and Dick almost spun around to try to catch whoever was playing a joke on him when Constantine suddenly reappeared. Face paler than usual and thinly veiled panic plastered on his face.

“I apologise sir but there’s an issue that requires your attention, immediately .” 

“Of course lead the way, excuse me.” He smiled politely to the gaggle of distraught women and quickly followed Constantine out of the ballroom. The second no eyes were on them, Constantine grabbed his hand and uttered something Dick couldn’t understand. Faint heat emanated from his palm before he quickly took a step back. The faint tugging on his shoulder turned into a harsh yank and Dick felt himself stumbling back into someone’s arms. A woman, just barely up to his shoulders. He was about to start yelling when he recognised the familiar white mask. He watched with wide eyes as the mask cracked before him, sharp jagged lines running through the porcelain as the Woman’s hand gripped his shoulder again and yanked hard. Shards of white scattering towards the floor and disappearing like smoke in the wind. 

“She was following you when she suddenly panicked. Wants you to follow her.” The figure nodded and with a final tug, started down the hallway. Dick threw a concerned look over his shoulders, but Constantine leant on the wall and waved him off. With a grimace Dick took off after the spectre. She moved fast, almost too fast for him to keep up. But eventually they reached the final public bathroom. She phased through the door and Dick tried to follow but it was stuck. Backing up he rammed into it, his shoulder aching but it didn't budge. He tried again, and by the fourth time the door burst open, wood splinters showering out onto the red tile.

Dick froze, a body. Or what was left of it. It had been thoroughly desecrated and all that remained was the eyeless face and a single hand. And there sat the kid. Curled up on the far end of the room as a strange woman covered in blood ran her gore-covered hands through his hair, loosening the gelled strands. The boy’s eyes fell on him, eyes widening slightly. The woman seemed to notice as she whipped around so fast she must have broken her neck. She was hideous. Her face was paper white with a long red line running around her neck that seemed to be actively bleeding. Her eyes were pure black and seemed to absorb all light that entered. Fresh blood and viscera dripped off her long talon like nails, onto her now red stained dress and the bloodied floor. She hissed at him, row after row of needle sharp teeth covered in black ichor that bubbled out of her mouth and down her body. The boy whimpered and in a split second he was beside him again. Sharp nails raking through his hair in a way that seemed to soothe him.

Then dick saw his clothes. Jacket rumpled and vest ripped open, shirt half undone. Loose buttons lay on the floor around him and one seemed to be in the remaining hands. Oh god, had he… Dick grimaced, he could sort of understand the creature’s protective reaction now, not that he completely approved for the poor man to be lobotomised through his eye sockets.

“Hey you’re ok. Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” Dick spoke softly, crouching down so he was on the kid’s level. Wide blue eyes watched him warily so Dick took small shuffling steps forward, moving as slowly as he could to not spook them. He got about 4 feet away before the kid tensed and tried to push himself backwards into the mirror. The woman howled, the single light flickering and lunged for the boy. Dick followed. Arm outstretched to try and pull him away from her. But his hand smacked into the hard glass of the mirror and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as the boy seemed to fade into the background of the image. 

Eventually he glanced up when he noticed something black dripping down the spotless surface. There in a child’s scrawl, were the words.

‘Bloody Mary'

Chapter Text

I am very sorry but My computer has deleted all notes on this story. I am trying to fix but until then i can not write this more.

Until then story is on break and i will try to fix computer and find backup as soon as i can

Many Sorries

IDKhow_iwrite

UPDATE : WE BACK BITCHES

Chapter Text

Tim stumbled backwards through the mirror, sliding across Drake manor’s marble ballroom, streaks of red left in his wake. He pulled his legs to his chest, trembling as the first tears escaped him. Tim would surely get an earful for staining his mother’s pristine off-white marble but he couldn’t find the energy to care. Curled up there on the floor where the weight of everything seemed to press him down until he felt like nothing more than an insignificant speck. Darkness was eating away at the edges of his vision as panic flooded his system. He may have died, drowned all alone as an innocent child all those years ago, may face monsters and horrors that would have any other run crying and screaming or collapsing with no mind left to think. But this somehow felt worse. Tim felt like he was shattering from the inside. His skin peeling away and revealing nothing but filth from where the man’s hands had touched him. And Dick had seen it. Had burst into the room as Tim had shaken apart, covered in blood, the clawed hands of Mary Tudor running it through his hair despite being comforting all the same. 

Tim muffled a sob, tears pooling beneath his cheek. He could hear the scuttling of creatures just in the shadows, avoiding the light of the moon, watching him. Beings with bodies as long as the earth and fur as soft as clouds circled him, glistening white-blue-pink always just out of Tim’s sight. The creature of bone and skin hung low, balancing itself on long spindly limbs as its yellowed eyes glowed comforting like flickering candlelight in the dark. Tim took another shaking breath and let himself drift, he was safe. The growling-yipping-screaming that surrounded him was soothing. Voices and sounds he’d been hearing constantly for the last 4 years. The panic wasn’t completely gone, but the soft-hard press of fur-skin-scales against his back was grounding in a way that settled him. A gentle voice cooed at him, her ice cold hands gently pulled Tim into her lap. She smelled like cigarette ash and filthy streets and home. Her voice of shorting wires and creaking pipes felt safe as Gotham surrounded Tim. Mother was here. And she would protect him. Despite her being as cold as the winter winds, Tim felt warmth blooming in his chest as he fell into fitful rest, confident that she would be there when he awoke. His last thought being concern on how much he must have damaged his nerves jumping through a mirror to not feel a single shred of pain.

Dick stood in the now dark room. The only working lightbulb had made a loud popping sound and gone dark minutes ago. His hand was still pressed into the mirror, his blue eyes searching for anything that could suggest Drake was still there, listening, watching. He didn’t even dare to breathe in case it caused the delicate surface to shatter and snatch his last hope from him. The black ichor dripped onto his hand and Dick tried to brush it off. But it came away thick like sludge yet oily like gasoline. A faint rainbow of red/blue/green making it look almost beautiful. Sighing, Dick pushed himself to his feet and grabbed an out of order sign to hang on the door. He pressed his emergency bat communicator twice, non emergency but concerning. He knew Bruce would see the location and panic but there wasn’t much he could do. Rolling up his sleeves Dick leant against the sink and waited, he didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene by moving around more than he already had, so he condemned himself to standing still on the sidelines. Fingers tapped restlessly on the cold marble in random patterns to stave off his nervous energy. 

The black smudge on his hand and fingertips started to warm, a faint tingling sensation that had him concerned it may be drugged or toxic. Dick quickly turned to wash it off but the soaps were barely putting a dent in it. If anything it was just smudging it around more, black nothingness being spread across his skin until it looked like he’d dipped his hands in an oil spill. He pulled his hands close to see the mess better, only to watch in shock as the colour seemed to fade, as if he was absorbing the ichor into his very being. Dick’s eyes widened as he tried to scrub off as much as he could, but it was too late. The warm tingling in his hands was similar to Constantine's spell, but it was moving, swirling, travelling through his veins until he felt it settle in his heart. The steady beating pushed the magic through his entire body until he could no longer distinguish it from himself. 

Almost as if on cue, Bruce and Constantine burst into the room, Bruce crowded Constantine against a wall, clearly having used his playboy persona to get away from the crowd, until the door swung shut. When he finally pulled back from the man, the warlock’s face was pink tinged with suspiciously slick lips. He stood there mutely as Bruce immediately entered Batman mode, locking the door behind them and stalking towards the scene with the careful control Constantine seemed bereft of. Dick sent the man a tense smile before joining his mentor. Cataloging the scene whilst Bruce attempted to identify their victim. (Not that Dick would call him that really, maybe ‘unfortunate side effect’ was a better choice of words. His sympathy for this kind of criminal long faded since he’d heard what things people did to those so young.) It wasn’t until Dick had finished taking pictures that he felt Constantine standing behind him, looking in that strangely concerned way the man had perfected. Dick turned to give him a questioning look, only for the man’s face to be even paler than earlier. 

“She claimed you.” Bruce froze from where he was carefully taking fingerprints off the one remaining hand and turned to stare at them both.

“The thing that did this?” Constantine shook his head and both bats let out a relieved exhale, Dick especially, he did not want to know what being ‘claimed’ by Bloody Mary would look like.

“No, Gotham. She claimed her bird.” Constantine grabbed Dick’s hand and yanked him up, muttering as he did until that tingling feeling came back full force. Dick gasped at the warmth that seemed to be embedded into his very being, felt how it flowed through each individual vein, protected him. There on his hand the black returned, smudged across his right hand in what was meant to be the nightwing symbol he wore nightly. Constantine then grabbed his left and Dick saw the other one, a white mask fragmented across his left. He almost felt like it was watching him through those hollowed eyes.

“How do we stop this?” Batman growled, he was too deep now to be called Bruce, stalking from his location to grip Dick’s hand and stare at his ward’s new marks. Constantine let out a long breath as he took a step back, hands held up in surrender before dropping them into his waiter's jacket.

“That’s the issue bats, the demon that’s placed that, she’s a greedy one. She chose Dick and she won’t be letting him go any time soon.” 

“Demon? You called it both ‘a god’ and ‘sentient city’ before” From the sour look on Constantine’s face he hadn’t meant to call it that.. He fumbled for a moment, trying to twist some sort of truth but he couldn’t think of anything. For once, John Constantine was out of tricks. With a defeated sigh he ran a hand through his hair, further ruining the slightly disheveled locks, and leveled the bats with a hard stare.

“Look, Gotham started as a single dwelling. It got cursed by a demon, who over time, became a sentient city as more people set down their roots. From what I can tell, it came into godhood pretty recently. And thank fuck that it’s turned good, or at least sort of, maybe her obsession with that boy made her good. I don’t know, or care quite honestly. So if you bats would stop trying to ruin my life that would be Fab.” With a mock salute Constantine turned on his heels and marched out of the room, his fingers already going into his pockets to grab a cigarette. Bruce managed to hold himself back for all of 3 seconds before he stormed after the warlock. Whether to pull him somewhere to further his Brucie cover or to question him further, Dick didn’t care. 

Making sure to lock the bathroom behind himself DIck snuck his way into Bruce’s study and down into the Batcave. The one good thing about Drake having been here, there was sure to be footage of his face in the CCTV somewhere. And with that came facial recognition. Pulling up different programs on the many screens Dick started to sort through the footage. Thankfully Drake’s face was on full display in almost every shot he found, giving him an almost full 360 of what his face looked like. With a grin Dick threw the images into facial recognition and waited, this would be a lot easier than he thought. But when the search, and following three additional searches, came up negative. He was stumped. How does someone live as Gotham’s upper echelon without being seen in any media? No tv, no newspaper, hell not even in the police database. Dick groaned, slamming his head into the desk a few times before pulling up another file. Fine, if he needed to search the footage and guest list one by one, he would. The only person more stubborn than Dick Grayson was Batman himself. But he was occupied for the night grilling Constantine on every little detail. Cracking his knuckles he pulled up the video logs for any entrance and exit he could think of. This would be a long night.

-x-

Dick snuck up the long driveway of Drake manor. He felt like an idiot, there was no it was this simple, but every clue pointed here. Their next door neighbors Jack and Janet Drake were out of the country, having sent an RSVP in their son’s name instead. One Timothy Jackson Drake. One who hadn’t been seen publicly in nearly 3 years. One who had looked Dick in the eyes and called himself Drake. Dick felt like an idiot.

“So wait, why are we breaking into Drake manor again?” Jason questioned as he vaulted over an artful yet extremely plastic bush. Dick turned to shush Jason, only to freeze. The shadows in the garden seemed alive, trembling slightly as Jason stepped a little too close for Dick’s comfort to a tree that had burning purple eyes. He instead pulled his technically now brother closer and hurried them along the path. Jason rolled his eyes but followed along, both walking silently through the garden as they dodged the minimal security. 

The manor they saw before them felt almost eerie, but not in the Gotham way. It was a marvel of modern architecture. Smooth walls and impersonally white. Minimal decorations besides the occasional smooth grey concrete. Even the windows looked new. Yet despite its bright colouring the place felt dark, heavy, like something bad was lingering just out of sight. The clouds that covered Gotham seemed absent here, the dark sky above visible from the grounds. Yet it didn’t feel like the sky. If Dick squinted long enough he swore the stars seemed to be moving, swirling, as if creatures up above had the very light inked into their skin.

Finally the two boys reached the manor, running from column to column to hide from the large bay windows. Just as Dick was peeking out to check if the coast was clear he saw something. What seemed to be a large ballroom, decorated as opulently as those weird old person shows Bruce liked. And there crouched in the middle of it all was a woman. Curled hair that fell down her back in silver rivulets like liquid moonlight. A long loose white dress that folded across the floor around her, and her skin nearly blending in with the still darkness of the room. But her face, covered by a cracked white mask, lifted up to meet his gaze. 

Dick felt himself freeze, he couldn’t move. That same warm feeling built up in his chest until it felt like it could burn him from the inside out. The woman tilted her head and extended one of her long hands, Dick could just barely make out her fingers beckoning him closer. As if enchanted he nodded, reaching out to the window and finding it unlocked, he quickly pushed it open and made his way inside. Jason whispered at him to come back but Dick paid him no heed. Because curled up in the woman’s lap was a boy, with slicked black hair and covered in gore, sleeping peacefully. 

“Drake.” Dick whispered it almost reverently as he looked at the child who couldn’t be older than 12. The woman smiled and gently took Dick’s hand, pulling him to sit beside her. He did and was instantly startled by the amount of movement that surrounded him. Things of black and white, all and nothing. Hooves, teeth, hands, claws, spindles, wings and tails. Crawled and floated and slithered around them. Millions of eyes and yet none, all watched them. Dick felt himself tensing, used to the stares of many yet startled at their appearance.

‘Calm little bird, you are safe here.’ A voice drifted through his mind like a dream despite no sounds being made. The hoard was surprisingly silent despite their size. Dick swallowed his fear and reached out, one of the many legged with fur and flames gently butted against it, humming a siren's song of satisfaction. Dick marveled at the docility of so many creatures that would normally have him trembling. He was snapped from his reverie by a small hand grabbing his arm, the beast scuttling back into the darkness with wary eyes.

“Dick what are you doing? Why are you grabbing empty air, and who’s the kid covered in blood?!” Jason’s whisper-yelling had Dick confused. He glanced around the room at the many mythos that surrounded them before turning to the woman. She seemed to smile at them sadly before getting to her feet. The cold she left behind where Dick didn’t even realise he had huddled against her was startling. She brushed a gentle hand through his hair and it felt like a fall through the air and sharpened glass and home. 

‘Look after my little Drake, he needs a loving human family.’ The marks on Dick’s arms burned as he turned back to the child, now curled up in his own lap. Their small hand clutching the edge of his jacket in a death grip. He looked back at the woman, who was starting to fade and he nodded, determination filling his every vein. Then she was gone and silence echoed through the room as everything else seemed to vanish like sand in the desert. With a shaky breath Dick picked up the child and turned to Jason, who was watching him with fear in his eyes. Glancing to where the woman had been and back, having not been able to see her himself but instead watched Dick interact with the empty air.

“I’m ok Jason, let’s go home.”