Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny was not having the best time.

In fact, he could argue he was actually having a very bad one.

Vlad had come out of the woodwork while his family was taking a small sabbatical to go on a ghost hunting road trip and taken advantage of his parents’ proximity.

Vlad had also announced that he had come to realize that killing humans with enough juice in whatever ghost power was used would turn them into ghosts, thereby “granting them eternal life”.

So. That was great.

The fruitloop had officially lost it.

Then Danny had been tricked into going ghost in front of his parents, who had naturally thought their son was possessed, and since ghost weapons were meant to hurt ghosts theoretically their living son would be okay, proceeded to go nuclear. So five broken ribs, a compound fracture in his left arm, multiple new holes courtesy of the ectoguns and missile launchers, his right ear almost torn clean off, what felt like a lovely laceration on the right side of his face from his temple to his collarbone, and continual leaking of blood from his nose and mouth, Danny decided that perhaps it was time to leave. And of course, when he had run away Vlad had given chase to finish him off.

The majority of the damage and blood loss was actually from his parents upgraded weapons. He was rather proud of them, in a weird sort of abstract way. In another way he was terrified, because now they knew, and also Vlad was throwing him through the ceiling of some random museum they had ended up flying over.

Danny hit the roof, went through the roof, and then hit the ground hard enough to leave a small crater.

He knew he needed to get up, but his body just wouldn’t respond beyond a tiny, pathetic whine as he rolled over.

“What in-”

Oh no.

Danny looked up and into the eyes of a very professional looking man in a suit, with a very proper British accent.

A civilian.

Fuck.

Then Vlad slammed on top of Danny’s back with all his weight and forced another sad, pathetic noise from the teen as his head slammed down into the floor again and left him dazed.

Shit.

“Well well, what have we here?”

Oh great, another monologue. Because Danny definitely needed that on top of everything else.

“A lovely mansion if I do say so myself. Very well cared for.”

Danny’s thoughts were bouncing from point A to point G to point C, unable to focus clearly on one thing.

Oh wait, someone lived here?

Huh.

So it wasn’t a museum.

He really hurt like, all over.

Vlad was going to win this fight at this rate.

Danny stilled as a thought went through his head.

If Vlad defeated him…would that make Vlad the Ghost King?

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no…

He could not let that happen.

“The only issue is the witness. Since it is only the living who have a say in court, an easy fix.”

The weight lifted from Danny’s back as he tried to gather himself, and he only realized what Vlad meant when the other Halfa was already floating towards the British guy.

Oh fucking shit, no.

He could not let that happen, either.

Danny struggled to get his hands under him while Vlad kept leisurely floating towards his prey, using the distraction of a new person as a cover. He had no idea how he was going to do this, but he needed to give the man enough time to run.

Then his foot tapped something, and Danny’s day just got 0.3% better.

The Fenton Thermos.

As quietly and carefully as he could, he dragged himself to his feet and snagged the thermos with his good hand along the way, using his teeth to pop off the lid. He didn’t even have the energy to float anymore, and settled on quietly walking up to Vlad as he stalked after a very put together looking, composed Proper Gentleman.

Movement in the corner of his eye alerted him to a kid crouching behind some very expensive looking furniture, and oh wow.

Wow.

That…that was a lot of blood.

Well he’d just have to hope they wouldn’t turn him over to Hunters once he was done, then, because Danny was sure as hell not going to be able to even keep his ghost form for much longer.

Vlad noticed Danny was up and getting in position behind him a half a second too soon, and turned towards the younger Halfa with his hand raised and glowing. But if Danny didn’t stop him, he would hurt these people who had absolutely nothing to do with their bullshit.

He was honestly pretty sure they weren’t even in Amity anymore.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

He mustered all of his strength and lunged, landing on top of Vlad and messily punching him in the face. With his bad arm. He could feel the bone slide out another inch before being pulled back in, and if he hadn’t been so desperate he would have vomited.

“You don’t get to hurt them!” He shouted, turning on the thermos as Vlad used the last moments before he got dragged in to deliver a parting shot at the Proper Man. But Danny had moved Vlad with his surprise attack, and he took the brunt of it instead.

Then, with a final snarl, the fruitloop was caged.

Danny looked down to see the extent of the damage and let out a quiet, almost inaudible,

“...Oh.”

A rather large hole, not all the way through, right in the abdomen. Ew. Not only would it look bad, but it would take like a week to heal, maybe more given the extent of his damage.

With Vlad gone, and all energy officially spent, Danny slumped to his knees, fumbling with the cap until a gloved, gentle hand reached over and popped it back on for him.

He looked up and met the incredibly concerned eyes of the Proper Man, and noticed that he was seeing double. Of himself. Because there was his carbon copy standing behind the Proper Man.

Wait. Was that another clone?

His thoughts got even more muddled as a high pitched ringing filled his ears and blocked out all noise.

He was…supposed to reason with those, right? It wasn’t their fault they were brainwashed. But words were hard.

“Please don’t hate me,” was all he could manage, wet and garbled as two bright rings turned him from ghost to living boy, and green blood into red.

Then he knew nothing but eating Nasty Burger with twenty Tuckers and forty Sams, all while needing to guess who was the real one or Lancer would make him take the final exam in the mascot costume.

Chapter Text

Alfred was panicking a little.

A lot.

Of course, he did not let this show on his face.

He had been about to begin making breakfast/dinner for his family when, with an almighty crash, two metas had slammed through his roof and one into the floor.

The smaller of the two had let out a noise that had gone right to the Butler’s heart, and attempted to roll over before meeting his eyes. A child. The meta was clearly a child. One that desperately needed help. He had almost started forward until he caught himself.

Right in time to witness the larger one, an adult, land on the child’s back, damaging him further and possibly giving the poor lad a concussion.

Which, from how much blood was coming out of the boy, was the last thing he needed.

When the adult meta had turned his attention to Alfred, the Butler had quietly activated the panic button hidden in his cuff and stood his ground. He would do what he could to fight, to give the boy enough time to run and enough time for Master Bruce to arrive and handle the situation.

But it was Young Master Damian who responded first.

He must have gone home from patrol before the others, as he was already in civilian clothes.

The adult started speaking about the mansion.

Alfred calmly stepped to the side to keep Young Master Damian out of his line of sight.

Very worryingly, the young meta had gone completely still.

“The only issue is the witness. Since it is only the living who have a say in court, an easy fix.”

The adult meta’s eyes bored into his as he began to float towards the Butler, his intention clear.

Alfred kept up his slow game of cat and mouse, leading the threat away from the child as best he could.

Young Master Damian climbed down from the second floor with all the grace and stealth of an assassin trained protégé. 

The child meta forced himself to his feet, picking up something Alfred couldn’t risk paying attention to and swaying back and forth for a moment, then slowly staggering towards the adult meta.

The boy was covered in what Alfred was certain was blood, even if it was green. A bone was sticking out of his arm, he clearly could not breathe well or stand up straight, the right side of his face was bloodied and the ear was missing a piece, and so, so many holes littered his body.

It took everything in Alfred not to beg him to just sit back down and let an adult take care of it. But the Butler knew that if he drew any attention to him, then that boy was going to die.

He instead did the only thing he could, and stopped moving.

Whatever the boy had, it was probably a weapon, and if nothing else could distract the floating meta long enough for him or Young Master Damian to begin activating the  security system and get the child to safety.

But that was where Alfred made a mistake.

When he had stopped, he had briefly looked at the child.

Which made the adult turn around.

What happened next was so fast, neither the Butler nor Young Master could track it until it was already happening.

The child meta leaped onto the adult, using the momentum to twist the adult’s aim away from Alfred, punched the adult in the face using his broken arm , and…

Turned the glowing hand towards the already gravely injured boy himself.

“You don’t get to hurt them!” 

The shout rang loud and clear as the…weapon? Was turned on and the adult meta got sucked into it .

There was a parting shot, directly into the child, and then-

-It was over.

All that was left was the white haired, glowing eyed child panting in the center of the Foyer.

Who then dropped like a sack of bricks to his knees and desperately tried to cap the container. But with only one functioning arm, he couldn’t do it.

Alfred rushed over, absolutely certain this young meta was not a threat to him, and gently took the cap of the…thermos? He would have to investigate that later.

But looking up, he found himself staring into the eyes of what could be a carbon copy of Young Master Damian, if he had white hair and powers.

Young Master Damian himself had stopped short behind Alfred, staring at what was probably another clone in disbelief.

The Butler understood. 

A super-powered clone that had broken its brainwashing? That had fought until he couldn’t move to protect instead of kill? Unheard of.

But in front of them, staring tiredly at Young Master Damian, was the proof that it had occurred.

“Young sir, please allow me to treat your injuries.” Alfred started, reaching forward as even more blood leaked out of the-oh.

Oh, that was bad.

There was a massive chunk of the child missing from his abdomen, from that parting shot meant for Alfred himself.

“Young Master Damian, I need the operating room ready to go, now .”

The boy’s raspy breathing was faint and intermittent, and his eyes dazed as they stared at Young Master Damian.

And when Alfred thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

“Please don’t hate me,” the meta said faintly, though it was garbled as it came from a blood filled mouth. 

Then, he changed . From white hair to black, green eyes to blue-it really was a clone of the Young Master.

Which meant Alfred now had to watch in horror as an almost identical copy of Young Master Damian, mortally wounded, finally pitched forward and succumbed to his injuries.

A sight he had never wanted to see.

Young Master Damian still hadn’t moved, presumably from shock given his expression, and Alfred wasted no time in hoisting the young meta into his arms and rushing for the Bat Cave. More specifically, making a mad dash for the upgraded medical supplies held within it.

He caught a glimpse of Young Master Damian scooping up the thermos before he had the meta clone laid on top of the emergency stretcher kept around for this very unfortunate reason. 

The emergency signal had already been sent, so there was no use telling Master Bruce that there was a situation. All that was left for Alfred to do was to get to work.

And as he reached the Bat Cave and wheeled the dying child inside it, work he did.

Chapter Text

Bruce sped into the Bat Cave and almost drove clean off the platform. The emergency signal had been sent by not only Alfred, but by Damian. So whatever was happening in his home, it was too big for Alfred, Damian, and the security system to handle.

But when he scrambled out of the Batmobile, barely registering Nightwing barging in after him or Red Hood’s motorcycle screaming in, nothing really seemed amiss.

Except that the light for the operating room was on.

That meant-

No.

No, no, no.

He’d been too late.

Was it Alfred or Damian?

Who was hurt?

He barely registered the rush to the Operating room, didn’t notice his two eldest at his sides, the only thing he could register was the smaller form of Damian on the operating table. 

He was covered in what looked like gunshots, his stomach had been savaged so badly he could see the intestines under it, the left arm was laid out to the side with the bone still out, and the heart monitor was…slow.

It was slow.

Damian was dying.

Alfred was rushing about, Barry on the screen trying to tell him what to do next and that he would be there as soon as he could, and Bruce’s youngest son was dying.

Jason leaned against the glass, like his knees wouldn’t support him anymore. Dick sounded like he was about to hyperventilate.

“Father.”

All three heads turned to see-

-A perfectly healthy Damian, clutching a thermos to his chest.

“...A Clone?” Jason asked roughly, helmet having been removed at some point. Bruce couldn’t remember when.

The Damian in front of them nodded.

“It appears to be a clone with super abilities. There were two metas, the one in the operating room defeated the other at…a cost.”

Dick leaned forward and put his hands on his knees, steadying his breathing.

Bruce just walked forward until he was in front of Damian and dragged him into a hug, whether he wanted one or not.

Damian allowed it.

“The one in the operating room appears to be an ally, and captured the other one with this device.”

The thermos was held out, and now that they could all see it, it was definitely altered in some way. But if it was a prison…

Jason walked forward and plucked it from Damian’s grip.

“I’ll go ahead and move this to a secure area.”

Bruce pretended not to notice him rubbing at his eyes as he walked away, giving Jason his space.

“Dami, you scared us to death,” Dick wheezed from his place on the floor, having opted for sitting down.

“My apologies, but none of you listened when I attempted to gain your attention as you entered.”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped as the knowledge that it was not Damian on that table-

-And Barry stopped in front of him, chest heaving. 

“Where’s Damian?” 

The man was in his lab coat, goggles, and his badge around his neck, having not even taken the time to change into his hero outfit. He must have come straight from the lab. Bruce would have to step in to make sure this absence was forgiven, it seemed.

In one hand was a bag of medical supplies that looked suspiciously like they had come straight from an ambulance or hospital, in the other was his phone still displaying Alfred in the room trying to staunch the bleeding.

Bruce was more thankful than he would have thought that Barry had been insistent on learning triage at that moment. Alfred needed more hands, experienced ones, to assist.

“I am here,” Damian began, gesturing to himself and then the operating room, “my incapacitated and very much an ally clone is in there.”

Barry didn’t even stop to consider the technicalities, the man was already inside and slamming down the bag of supplies to get started.

Bruce turned to watch for as long as he could, before the sight made him look away. His mind kept tricking him into thinking it was Damian on the table, not some clone.

The relief of which made him feel worse, as the clone was clearly an ally and had almost killed himself in an effort to protect his family and home.

The slow, dying heartbeat was still on the monitor, reminding him of how close it was for their new ally. The beeps were small interruptions between long, drawn out whines from the machine.

But they seemed to be getting stronger, with less wait time between each pulse.

Bruce looked back and witnessed Barry using his Speed to set the broken arm and tend the injuries as quickly as he could. A blood bag-Damian’s blood type, as expected of a clone-was already hooked up and delivering much needed life into the frail child on the bed.

“Would you like to review the footage, father?” Damian asked quietly.

Looking back at him, it was clear that while Damian was trying to appear as calm and composed as he could, he was very deliberately not looking in on the operation.

Bruce understood.

“I would, yes.”

He needed to stop seeing Damian dying, stop listening to a stuttering heart. He knew it was an easy way out, but he couldn’t take it anymore.

But this clone was an ally. This clone was another of his, way of birth be damned.

This clone was his youngest, although he didn’t know the boy yet.

“But I can’t leave yet. I…I have to make sure he lives.”

Damian stared at him, quiet relief on his face.

“I understand, father.”

Bruce was grateful he had made the right choice.

Dick stood up and looked over the operating room, deciding to stay as well. 

Damian gave a nod to Jason as he came back, eyes and cheeks suspiciously red.

They would wait.

Chapter Text

Danny was in…space?

He was floating aimlessly through it, watching stars and galaxies as they passed, in his human form.

But he wasn’t concerned at all.

And there, on the eve of the Canes Venatici constellation, was a group of people dressed in clothes from…Ancient Greece? He’d seen Pandora’s kingdom enough times to recognize the get-up.

A figure looked up and beckoned him down. 

They were at least 15 feet tall, and towered over the humans in their presence. The humans, however, did not seem scared. They just turned their heads up to look at him and waved him down.

Danny shrugged, doing as they bid and floating next to someone in the back row. He smiled encouragingly at him and offered a hand.

“I am Epimenides, of Cnossos.”

Even though it was Greek, Danny could understand him perfectly.

Still, it would be rude not to return the courtesy of a handshake and a name.

He took it and firmly shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Danny, of uh…Amity.”

The man nodded in satisfaction and turned back to the giant.

The giant nodded at him, features becoming clearer.

“I am Asteria, of Oracles and Stars and Night. Are you here to learn, or are you here to teach?”

It took Danny a moment to realize what he was looking at; a figure that did not have any defining characteristics. Asteria kept shifting depending on what he was expecting her to look like.

“Uh…I don’t think I understand?”

She laughed, and it was indescribable. A cacophony of pleasant chuckles and a roar of galaxies exploding.

“I summon all those who wish to rest in my or Hypnos’ domain for extended periods of time, and we teach each other,” she smiled at him again, and Danny squinted. Her features were beginning to hurt his brain, “I had intended to pull and focus on the Ancient Greece time period for this round of lessons, but you are more than welcome to participate.”

Oh.

Oh.

So all these people were actually from Ancient Greece!

Oh he had so much to teach them about stars and astronomy!

They had so much forgotten knowledge to share!

This was amazing!

“I won’t be interrupting anyone’s current lesson, will I?” He asked, eagerly looking around. Multiple amused people shook their heads and beckoned him to the front.

Danny hurriedly made his way to the front and pointed to the nearest star.

“Let’s start with what a star actually is!”

Jason watched the footage of what had happened over Bruce’s shoulder one more time.

The clone was resting in a bed in their medical ward, Barry fretting over him. So far, he appeared stable, but his heart rate was still far too slow. His temperature was low, as well.

But it looked like he had accelerated healing, and that it was working overtime. He was already mostly healed. The problem was the concussion he absolutely had; none of them knew how serious it was, as the kid hadn't woken up even once for them to determine if there was brain damage or not.

Jason had sensed the Lazarus Pit as he had gotten closer, and they were running under the assumption that the meta-portion came from that. More than likely, the slower vitals also came from that. Hopefully, the Pit would prevent any permanent damage as far as that head trauma went.

Even with the knowledge that he was probably going to make a full recovery, Jason and the others still obsessively checked on his progress. They couldn't help it. Not only was he related to Damian, and assuredly going to be taken in by Bruce as well, but he had nearly given his life making sure Alfred and Damian lived.

The Justice League had offered to send out some heroes as substitutes, just in case the Batfamily needed some time, but even Jason had drawn the line.

Yes, he would be living in the Manor again for a bit, but he would be damned if he let a super do his job for him. There was no telling how badly they’d fuck up Crime Alley.

Plus, they had the meta that had done this.

He was safely sealed away in that weird thermos, and while Superman had briefly expressed concern over if the meta would survive without food or water, Jason quite frankly did not give a damn.

So they all did their shifts, with one of them sitting beside the clone to provide sporadic updates on his condition to the others.

Even if Alfred was right there, able to do the same thing, it didn't feel right unless there was someone else there as well.

At that moment, all of them were currently crowded in the room, looking intently at the screen displaying the terrifyingly brutal fight.

It was clearly the end of said fight, too.

Their new sibling was thrown through the ceiling of the Manor as he was clearly trying to get away, and then, half-dead, had taken it upon himself to end the fight once and for all.

Then he had turned into a normal looking human, an almost exact copy of Damian. 

Except for the eyes.

The clone’s eyes were blue, but Damian’s were very clearly green.

Barry whistled lowly from behind them, looking back at the clone’s chart.

“So, Superman for teaching the kid how to fight in the air and fly evasively, then?”

Jason looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

“What, like we can’t teach him how to properly fight?”

The blond did not look impressed.

“I’m sorry, I must have missed the part where one of you has secret abilities and flies,” the Forensic Criminologist started, rewinding the footage and pointing to the clip of the boy flying, “he also needs to learn that just because he can take a hit, doesn’t mean he should. He won’t learn that with you, he’ll try to hold back.”

Barry fast-forwarded the footage to their youngest staggering to his feet, even though he very much should have stayed down.

Jason had to look away.

It was like looking down at his own battered body as laughter he never wanted to hear filled his ears.

Like realizing all over again that he would not survive.

It was too much.

Barry looked uncomfortable as well.

“Because if he’s willing to go this far to protect The Batman , in said hero’s own home, there’s no way he’ll listen to you when you tell him to ask for help.”

Jason sighed through his nose and looked down at the kid on the bed.

He looked better than he had in the past four days, to be sure. 

But if there was even a chance of him fucking himself up that badly again, Red Hood would willingly work together with Batman and Superman both to prevent him from leaving unsupervised. 

No kid deserved to get injured that badly, accelerated healing or not.

Glancing at Bruce, Jason could tell he was troubled. 

If this clone was half as stubborn as Damian was, then making him undergo training like that would be a serious task.

“I can have Bizzaro kidnap him and force him to train,” Jason casually dropped.

He was sure the man wouldn’t mind.

Bruce’s face went through something complicated before he just huffed out a tired laugh.

“If it comes to that, then I have no objections.”

Jason nodded and looked down at the kid.

"Hope you're having good dreams, brat, because the reaming we're gonna give you for letting yourself take that last hit is gonna be brutal."

...

Was it his imagination, or did that little shit just smile a little in his sleep?

Chapter Text

Danny woke up, and the first thing he smelled was the sterile environment of a hospital.

Fuck.

So they had given him to Hunters.

To be fair, he hadn’t exactly been subtle about being a ghost.

If so, there would be no point in trying to phase out of the room. It would just waste both energy and time. 

With a put upon sigh, he opened his eyes and decided to face the situation head on.

This…was not a Hunter’s base.

He was able to sit up, unrestrained, and was clearly properly medically treated. The only machines on him were a heart monitor and a nasal cannula, so it looked like the worst had come to pass. 

Wait.

Scratch that, there was a feeding tube and a catheter. No, he was not moving from the bed until that shit was gone.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Danny’s head jerked up to look at some blonde man in a Hawaiian shirt walking over to him.

“I'm not a doctor, but I do have knowledge in the medical field. Disclaimer out of the way, I need to make sure there’s no damage-”

“I need to leave, now.”

The man stopped and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes . This has been lovely, thank you for making sure I don’t die, but I really must be going,” Danny said as he motioned towards the bits he needed help with to remove.

“You really are just as stubborn as Damian,” The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Look, you really can’t leave just yet uh…what’s your name?”

“Wes Weston.”

Blue eyes stared at each other, one set unimpressed and one set completely impassive.

“No it’s not.”

“I could be Wes if I wanted to.”

“Kid.”

“Literally.”

“That feels like a reference and now I’m concerned.”

“If I phase through a feeding tube will it mess me up internally?”

“Kid no.”

“Was that an answer or…?”

There was a snort from Danny’s left, and when he turned there was a young man sitting next to his bed. He had black hair, tanned skin, and a shit-eating grin.

“If you don’t tell us your name, I’m going to assume you don’t have one,” the black haired man warned, and Danny knew the results would be bad.

He would voluntarily go ultra-recyclo-vegetarian before he got called Inviso-Bill again.

“...Danny.”

“Dick.”

“Bitch.”

“No, I’m not insulting you. My name. People call me Dick.”

Danny nodded.

“Sorry, then.”

“No, they’re not insult-nevermind.”

“Hey, hate to interrupt the meet and greet, but focus. Please.”

Danny turned back to the blonde, really wanting to get past the questions so he could leave. If they wouldn’t get rid of the tubes and stuff then he’d just phase through it, consequences be damned.

“Good. What is the last thing you remember?”

Danny hummed, thinking.

“I had just gotten to the concept of gravity, but it’s a little difficult to explain to Greeks.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, what?” The blonde asked, eyes narrowed.

“Well, even if there’s a spell to make us understand each other, there are some words in English that don’t transfer over to Greek. And vice versa.”

This did not look like it had cleared anything up.

If anything, it made Blondie look like he wanted to break his clipboard with his head.

“I believe the last thing you remember from being awake, Young Master Daniel.”

Danny’s head snapped around at an inhuman speed to stare at the Proper Man.

Then he smiled, wide and large and possibly showing off his fangs.

“Proper Man! You’re okay!”

The British man raised his eyebrows, a small smile quirking his lips in return.

“I am called Alfred, Young Master Daniel,” the Proper-Alfred, answered, moving forward and giving a slight bow, “And I must thank you for ensuring that Young Master Damian and I were unharmed.”

Danny coughed, feeling the blush start to color his ears and collarbone. This was too formal.

“Well, I mean, it’s not like I could just-”

“However,” Alfred’s gaze sharpened, and Danny felt like he had just gotten into a world of trouble already, “there is a time and a place for self-sacrificing heroics, and that was neither.”

“Excuse me, I just-”

“No no, kid, he’s right,” Dick supplemented, casually checking his fingernails, “you were literally in Batman’s house. Could have asked for help at any point, and chose not to. Bad. Move.”

“What? But I-”

“The extent of those injuries was pretty insane Danny, I’m not gonna lie; it’s a miracle you’re alive,” the blonde added, setting down his clipboard and leaning against a desk, “my Speed and Alfred's expertise were the only things that saved you.”

“But I’m already dead!” Danny interrupted before anyone else could interrupt him again.

They all stared at him with varying degrees of pity and anger.

“Danny,” Dick started, his voice gentle as he leaned forward, “just because that’s what they told you, doesn’t mean that it’s true. You deserve to live a happy, healthy life just as much as the next kid.”

Danny stared at him in frustration. 

Dick stared back in what he thought was probably a wise and learned fashion.

Danny went ghost.

The heart and oxygen monitor screamed.

And so did like, some weird alarm from outside? 

Danny turned his head and realized that there was a window for him to look out of, and there was literally a red light flashing in tune with a klaxon he could only faintly hear.

It looked like a weird, futuristic cave with the kind of goth undertones that Sam would love. Lots of bats, and…

B…bats.

“...Wait, did you say Batman ?”

Chapter Text

Tim rushed through the Manor and down to the Bat Cave, the alarm ringing in his ears.

The clone had flatlined.

The clone had flatlined and aside from Dick, Tim would be the only one of Bruce’s kids on scene. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Bruce would be on his way back regardless of what he was dealing with, along with all the others, and he needed to make sure everything was okay before they got there.

The Manor passed by in a blur, and Tim was fairly certain that he had almost ripped the hand off of that stupid clock in his haste to get down there and help in whatever way he could.

He slammed around the corner, almost broke down the Infirmary door, and-

“Okay okay we believe you, please turn your pulse back on !”

What?

“No, no no go back. Go back, who’s fucking house is this?”

“Young Master Daniel, language !”

It took Tim a bit of time to realize what he was seeing.

The meta-Daniel, he supposed thanks to Alfred-was hovering a few inches off of his bed, all tubes and wires that had been attached to him were on the bed below. Like they had fallen through him . Dick was standing and desperately trying to talk Daniel down, pointing forcefully at the bed. Alfred was doing a far better job of keeping his calm, but was surreptitiously leaning against a table for support.

And Barry?

Barry slid to a stop next to him, sitting in a wheely chair, and held out a juicebox.

“This shouldn’t be scientifically possible,” the Speedster shrugged, looking so far past shock and awe he had settled into apathy, “so I’m just going to wait for Schrodinger's child to calm down and explain.”

Tim ignored the juicebox and strode forward, shutting off the alarms on his way towards his youngest brother.

“Everybody stop!” He shouted, startling everyone into silence. He paused, gathering his thoughts, and looked at Alfred.

Alfred looked done.

Damn. It was that bad, huh?

“Okay. Yes, this is Batman’s house. Did you not know that?”

Daniel shook his head, luminescent eyes wide.

“Then why did you almost kill yourself to save your…original?”

The floating boy looked highly offended.

“What, he didn’t choose how he was made-wait. Original ?” He looked around, gravity-defying white hair bouncing with each movement, “You think I’m the clone?”

Everyone looked at each other. Nothing had been cleared up, and everything was more confusing.

“Young Master Daniel, are you telling me that you had no idea who we were, or where you were, and just decided to obtain severe injuries on behalf of unknown people?”

Daniel’s attention went back to Alfred, but now the kid just looked confused.

“I mean, yeah? I heal fast so it isn’t like they matter.”

“Red flag,” Barry said blandly, sounding almost bored.

Tim got it, he was kind of expecting that reasoning.

“Danny no, the healing thing isn’t the-” Dick broke off with a sigh, sitting down and cradling his head in his hands.

“So you think Damian’s the clone?” Tim asked, trying to sort through the new kid's head. His issues with self-sacrifice could be dealt with later via a psychiatrist and training.

“Who’s Damian?”

“You know, Damian Wayne, child of Bruce Wayne,” Barry drawled, leaning down to get another juicebox from the box of them he’d stored in the corner.

There was an awkward pause.

Then the most unbelievable sentence Tim had ever heard popped out of Daniel’s-Danny’s?-mouth.

“Who’s Bruce Wayne?”

“Kid, where are you from ?” Dick cried, sounding like he was almost in tears from the confusion he was feeling.

“Amity Park, Michigan. So like, where am I right now? Because I was just trying to run away from Vlad and did not pay attention, like, at all to where I was going.”

Dick stood up, pointing towards the abandoned pillow on the medical bed.

“Hey, can I borrow that?”

Daniel shrugged, motioning at it.

“Thanks.”

Dick proceeded to bury his face in said pillow and muffled shouting was what followed.

Tim sympathized.

“Okay, let’s clear things up before the rest get here,” Tim sighed, clapping his hands together and making a mental list of everything that needed to be sorted.

Tim was sitting on the foot of the medical bed, Daniel was sitting-floating?-towards the head of it. Dick still had the pillow, but he was just holding it instead of using it as a sound suppressor. Alfred had gone to greet the others in the bay and to advise them of the situation. Mainly that being literally dead was apparently a thing that Danny could do. Barry had gone almost through his entire juicebox stash and was listening with rapt attention.

“So, one more time,” Tim started, Danny nodding at him with a look of intense focus, “You have no idea who Bruce Wayne is. You had no idea this was Batman’s house. You just got in a fight you couldn’t handle and were trying to get away. You think Damian’s the clone, because…Vlad? Has, in fact, cloned you before.”

“Yes, to all of that. And excuse you, I know he’s a clone, because what else is he if not that?”

“And we can assure you he isn’t a clone, because he was a baby at one point,” Dick cut in, for the fifteenth time, looking exhausted.

“And I can assure you I’m not the clone, because I, too, was in fact a baby. At one point.”

The door opened and Bruce walked in wearing his everyday clothes for public appearances. He did not look pleased.

“So if you’re not a clone, then what are you?” Bruce said, sounding as tired as they all felt. He’d only heard the explanation from Alfred, so Tim thought he didn’t really have the right to be exhausted by this conversation he hadn’t been a part of.

Danny shrugged, literally no recognition in his face at all as he looked at Bruce.

“Half dead. Literally.”

Tim shook his head and waved his hand, dismissing that old information. They’d figure that out later, the more pressing issue at hand was who Danny was to Dami.

“The only other option is something crazy like a long lost twin,” Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “And I have no idea how Talia would have managed that.”

Given their crazy lives though, it wasn’t like it was impossible. But why spare one child and make the other go through assassin training?

Someone clapped, and Tim looked up to see Alfred striding in. The rest of the Family were piled outside of the door, peeking in with wide eyes. 

Except for Damian.

His eyes were troubled, and more than a little angry.

“Regardless, Young Master Daniel, you still need to rest until the injuries are entirely healed,” the Butler started, walking over to the kid in question, “At present there is a spare bedroom. I would request that you utilize it during your recovery.”

It did not sound like a request.

Danny seemed to realize that it wasn’t, either. Regardless, the kid’s chin started to set in a rather stubborn line.

Tim took a deep breath through his nose, ready to argue Danny into submission.

But Bruce knew how to deal with kids, having as many of them as he did.

“Do you have anywhere else to be?”

Danny paused, then deflated.

The look on his face was one that Tim knew intimately.

“...Not anymore, no.”

Bruce nodded, motioning towards Alfred.

“Then just follow Alfred to your room. We can sort this out when we’ve all had a bit to…reflect. And research.”

Danny nodded, gently floating over the side of the bed and onto the ground, turning human again with a bright flash.

Then the kid started to look around, seeming to remember something.

“So…where’s Batman?”

Chapter Text

Mr. Austin Conan Lancer was going to tear out what remained of his hair.

He’d started to have his suspicions that the Fentons were neglecting their youngest member, but for the boy’s sake he’d kept up the veneer of normalcy.

Then they had returned without him

They had returned without Daniel.

Jasmine was out of her mind with worry. Austin could see it, though the girl tried her best to hide it.

He convinced her teachers to give her less homework and attempted to alert the authorities, but to no avail. They said that it had only been a day, so he wasn’t considered a missing child. The English Teacher had insisted, so they had gone to check on him anyways, complaining the whole while, and the parents had told them Daniel had run away.

And the police, fools that they were, believed them.

The vice-principal had been scouring the web, searching for any sighting of the boy at all. 

He should have acted sooner. Should have alerted the authorities when Daniel was still there to tell them. Should have done more than the bare minimum.

But it was too late for second guessing. It was time to right his wrongs.

In the span of three days he had taught himself the finer points of this Twitter website, branched outside of the Facebook groups he was so used to, dug into Twitch, learned of this TikTok and began to scour it for any trace of his wayward student, and had reached out to multiple homeless shelters.

There weren’t a lot of places a wayward fifteen year old could hide, and he doubted Daniel would be able to stay away from the draw of social media.

No results.

He was beginning to fear the worst.

Even Dash, little sociopath that he was, was beginning to grow concerned. His favorite punching bag was gone, and as much as Lancer would have normally loved to watch the boy go through the varying stages of realizing what his outward aggression was hiding, he hadn’t wanted it to go down like this.

So he did the only thing he felt he could.

He decided to save the one that was left.

Jasmine Fenton walked into his office, looking tired and worn to the bone.

Lancer could sympathize.

“Ms. Fenton, please take a seat.”

She did, all but collapsing in the chair.

“Look, Mr. Lancer, if this is about the schoolwork that Danny’s missed I don't-”

“Do you need help?” Lancer interrupted quietly, hands clenched together on his desk. The girl looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and that was the kind of responsibility that should have never been placed upon a child.

Big, fat tears started to gather in Jasmine’s eyes and Lancer internally panicked. Externally, he nudged over a box of tissues and moved the garbage pin closer to her.

“I just don’t know where he is!” She cried in a frustrated voice after taking a few minutes to gather herself.

“Okay,” he started calmly, deciding to address her concerns for her brother before broaching the topic of her own situation, “do you have any idea of where he could have gone?”

She shook her head, face scrunching as she started to do a truly heart-wrenching sob.

“Mom and Dad won’t talk about it! They won’t tell me what happened!” Her hand shot out and grabbed a handful of tissues.

Lancer gave her time to busy herself with separating what she had grabbed into an organized pile, not willing to push when it would most likely make her shut down.

After a few deep breaths, she managed to continue.

“They just said they needed to free him, whatever that means,” she hiccupped, hands balling into fists at her sides, “but that’s the problem, because it’s all they say .”

“Miss. Fenton, do you…” Lander paused, trying to find a way to make what he was about to say less incriminating, “do you think Daniel is safe?”

She shook her head.

Lancer’s heart dropped .

As long as he’d been a teacher, he had never had the horrifying misfortune to lose a student. But he couldn’t afford to focus on that.

Because as much as it hurt him, he could only imagine what it was doing to Daniel’s own flesh and blood sister .

“...Do you think you’re safe?”

She looked down, not responding.

Lancer gave her enough time to gather her thoughts, just in case she had something to say about that.

She very much did.

“Mom and Dad love us,” she said shakily, “but they have their own way of showing it. And sometimes…sometimes it leaves a lot to be desired.”

They sat in companionable silence again.

“But I never thought they’d hurt Danny.”

“Do you need help?” Lancer asked softly.

Jasmine looked like she did not know how to answer that.

Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and sat up straight. The tear tracks were rapidly drying, and Lancer could only feel regret that such a young teenager could bear such an adult expression.

She appeared to have come to a decision.

“I’m…not entirely normal.”

Oh?

“And Danny isn’t entirely normal either.”

He did not like where this was going.

She used a finger to lift up one lip, showing off a rather pointed canine.

Oh Pride and Prejudice they were metas.

And the Fentons, of all people, who put science before people, would not have taken that news lightly.

“We’re not very strong,” she said, and his teacher’s experience picked up a lie, “just better eyesight and some extra strength, some pointy teeth. Glowing eyes…”

Lancer decided not to ask the specifics. They weren’t important to the situation at hand; getting Jasmine away from the danger she lived with.

“Miss. Fenton, do I need to get Social Services involved?” He asked bluntly. Beating around the bush at this point would do more harm than good, with someone as clever as her.

She hesitated.

“I would need to be put somewhere Mom and Dad wouldn’t look at,” she muttered, appearing to formulate a plan, “I need to…think about it.”

Lancer resisted the urge to shake her by the shoulders and nodded instead.

“Of course. If you need any-”

A loud, yapping bark interrupted him.

He paused, looking around in confusion until he saw Jasmine’s face.

She looked surprised, but not confused.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Friend of yours?”

She tentatively held out her hands, seeming to brace herself for the unseen dog to jump into her lap.

“...Cujo?” She asked, and from out of nowhere a glowing green puppy appeared out of thin air and jumped into her arms.

Lancer attempted to keep a straight face.

Lancer did not keep a straight face.

“ Midsummer Night’s Dream , Miss. Fenton, what on earth-?”

She just laughed, cheered for the first time since the whole horrible situation began, as the puppy began to lick her cheek.

“He’s Danny’s dog,” she started to explain, giving the dog some belly rubs, “he just came through the portal one day and got…attached…”

Jasmine trailed off, hands stilling as she stared down at the pooch.

Lancer also started to catch on, staring down at the ethereal dog happily wagging its tail as it floated above Miss. Fenton’s lap.

Could a ghost dog, perhaps…?

“Mr. Lancer, I’m going to find Danny. Or at least narrow down what city he’s in.”

Lancer looked up from the excited dog and right into Jasmine’s eyes.

That started to glow a little.

So that was true, then.

“What would you ask of me?”

Her mouth was set in a stubborn line, and he knew he could only listen and try to steer whatever the plan was from one that would hurt her.

“Can you arrange for Social Services to put me together with my brother?”

Austin paused, thinking carefully. He did not want to lie.

Normally there wasn’t a real way to assure that, but…there was always, of course, the Wayne Foundation. They normally went out of their way to make sure that children were well cared for, and he had a friend who volunteered there on a regular basis.

Granted, they were in Gotham, but he was sure they wouldn’t mind pulling a few strings to make sure a pair of siblings stayed together.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Jasmine nodded, satisfied with that answer.

“Okay. Cujo, fetch .”

Chapter Text

The static coming from the altered cell phone was annoying, and Danni was half-tempted to throw it into the mouth of the next ghost-beast she saw.

But she needed it.

“Any luck finding him yet?” Tucker’s voice whined through the speaker.

Danni grit her teeth and took a few deep breaths to calm down.

“No, Tucker, I haven’t found him. I didn’t see him two minutes ago, or five minutes ago, or even seven minutes ago!”

“The readings indicate that the area you’re in has a vastly different ecto-reading to it than-”

“-The rest of the Ghost Zone, I know Sam!”

She shoved the phone in her pocket, deliberately ignoring the angry tirade from the Goth as she circled again.

By their readings, Clockwork should have been near. Or one of the Other ones.

But there was no sign of him.

Just like there was no sign of Danny.

And Danni?

She was fed up.

Patience had never been her strong suit, and punching through her problems always made way more sense to her than sitting around and waiting for an “opportunity”.

Unfortunately, she had no real outlet in her current situation.

So, she shouted at nothing.

“Where the fuck is everyone!”

“You called, My Princess?”

Danni absolutely did not scream. She just made a surprised noise. But it definitely was not a scream.

Turning around calmly-and absolutely not spinning around ready to attack-she saw Fright Knight.

All of this was, of course, done in a completely calm and cool fashion with no screaming or panicking.

“Did I just hear a ghost bat-?”

And Tucker was having auditory hallucinations, clearly.

Danni was cool.

She was fine.

Fright Knight was even looking concerned at how cool she was, clearly.

“Are you well, My Prince-?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine and that is definitely me. Princess. Yes. You do not have the wrong person.” Danni punctuated that with a cool, mature laugh.

Fright Knight said nothing.

Sam did, though.

“Was that a deranged Hyena-?”

Danni tugged the cell phone out and hung up on her friends. They weren’t ghosts, they wouldn’t understand. It was a ghost thing. Being cool was a ghost thing only reserved for ghosts.

And Danni was, without a doubt, cool.

Chill.

And absolutely knew what Fright Knight meant when he called her Princess.

“...Your brother is the King,” Fright Knight tried to gently explain, helpfully not admitting that he was explaining anything.

“Ah, yes! Yes he is!” Danni agreed, nodding and crossing her arms to appear more stern. Fuck, he was the King. So by relation, she was a Princess.

The silence between her and her new…knight? Subject? Was broken by some loser hyperventilating. Someone that wasn’t her.

Both her and Fright Knight kindly waited for whoever that loser ghost was to finish their panic attack before discussing more serious matters.

“So where the fuck is my brother?”

Fright Knight said nothing, but his power starting to flare up did.

He didn’t know.

"Your Highness, are you saying that the King is missing?"

"Yeah," Danni said, shoving her hands in her pockets.

Great, another dead end.

“I will rouse the Royal Guard. You have my word that he will be found, Your Highness.”

Danni could only float there and watch him blink out of existence.

Then she tugged out the cell phone and called Sam and Tucker back.

“Holy shit you guys did you know there’s a royal guard ?!”

Jazz rode on Cujo’s back, the ghost dog having grown to his more formidable size in his search for his master.

But Danny must have been too far away, because Cujo kept getting side-tracked.

Apparently, the woods leading to Gotham of all places had small spatterings of Danny’s…blood.

And every time Cujo would find out, he would circle around it and whine and howl, searching for his favorite person and not understanding why he could smell him, but couldn’t find him.

Until Jazz managed to convince him to go searching again.

She had an extra thermos, the fenton bat, a med kit, and one of her parent’s guns.

She was going to find her little brother, and take out whoever had him in the process.

Danny sat across from Damian, staring at his clone in the new morning light.

Damian sat across from Danny, deliberately not staring at his clone in the new morning light.

Jason sat next to Danny, watching both of them with mild amusement.

So far, they had gotten…nowhere. 

Danny swore up and down Damian was the clone, and Damian swore up and down that Danny was the clone.

So Bruce, Damian’s father, had gone down into the Bat Cave that he apparently had permission to use from Batman, and was currently trying to run some tests on both of their blood.

The rest of the family just looked down at their plates and were very obviously trying very hard not to stare.

They were failing.

At least Jason was openly staring at the two of them, slowly shoveling food into his mouth with a bored expression.

“This is fucking weird.”

“Language, Young Master Jason.”

“It is, yeah,” Danny agreed, sipping on his cranberry juice through the silly straw he had specifically requested.

“...What if neither of us are clones?” Damian asked, stabbing at his food viciously with his fork.

Danny hummed, and everyone looked up from their plates to stare between the two of them.

“Then I guess we’ll have to figure out which of us was adopted,” he shrugged, “or we aren’t related at all and just look alike.”

Damian seemed to perk up.

“True, it is far more likely that we just happen to look alike,” the boy nodded, going back to his food with considerably less violence.

Danny nodded in agreement and went back to his plate as well.

Tim and Dick met eyes with Jason, who did not look like he agreed at all.

Then Bruce walked in, and Jason knew that theory was wrong.

Dead wrong.

Heh.

Dead .

Oh no, he was turning into Dick.

Chapter Text

Danny was not pleased. 

Damian was less pleased.

Damian’s siblings, on the other hand, were thrilled apparently.

Danny's entire life had been a lie. There were a lot of things he could focus on, but strangely the one that stuck out the most was that his birthday wasn’t even his birthday. 

It was most likely his adoption day.

He didn’t know why that was the one thing his brain could not stop thinking about.

Oh no there was one more thing.

“I'm..not actually the youngest,’ he admitted, trying to shrink into himself.

The giddy atmosphere left as quickly as it came.

“What?” Asked Bruce, his voice strained.

“ What ?” Hissed Damian, his voice also strained but in a very different way.

Danny's response was to let out a painfully fake laugh and Avoid Eye Contact.

“There…is a little sister.”

The blonde one, Steph, punched the table and jumped up with a cheer.

The scary one, Cass, crossed her arms and nodded approvingly.

Bruce just sat down and started eating his meal. Danny would have been concerned, but he got it.

There were only so many surprises he could handle in a day too.

And Alfred’s cooking was nothing to scoff at.

But as much as Danny wanted to eat it, he just….felt like he was forgetting something.

The same thing he kept forgetting to tell Danni, honestly.

Danny shrugged and laid his head down on the table, cherishing the cool wood on his cheek.

Eh.

It’d come to him eventually.

After he figured out how to get ahold of Jazz without alerting their parents, how to get ahold of Tucker and Sam and not alert their parents who would alert his, how to settle issues with rogue ghosts from the zone, how to settle into this new life-there was just too much.

But at that moment, there was bacon and eggs.

And bacon and eggs were easy.

It came to him in the form of a giant, glowing dog and an angry, heavily armed sister.

“What do you mean they shot you?!”

“Jazz wait I can- Cujo no !”

“And when you recovered you didn’t think to call Sam? Or Tucker?!”

“Jazz please-!”

“ Do you have any idea how worried I was ,” Jazz finished, starting to sob before falling to her knees. Danny dragged a small Cujo over to her and tried to calm her down, only to get forcibly dragged into a hug as his big sister cried big fat tears into his shirt.

Alfred quietly herded the rest of the family back inside the mansion, softly closing the door behind them. 

“It would appear that Young Master Daniel and the Young Miss need a moment,” Danny heard as the door closed behind the butler.

Danny alternated between throwing Cujo’s toy and soothing Jazz, almost able to feel the eyes of his…uh, family? He guessed?

“So apparently I’m adopted,” he started once she had calmed down.

Jazz froze and leaned back.

“Wait, they never told you?”

Danny’s ears started ringing.

“They told me that they-! They were supposed to tell you!”

Danny’s brain short-circuited.

“Uh, well…my birth father just did, does that count?”

“No!”

Damian was dissatisfied with being forced to leave the new dog.

And…his brother too, he supposed.

But how soft was a ghost-dog’s fur? Could he borrow Daniel’s dog and finally have a dog that could keep up with Krypto?

Then he could shove it in Jon’s-

“Young Master Damian?”

Damian ceased his thoughts and glanced at Alfred. Alfred gave him a gentle smile and nodded at his Father.

“Perhaps you would like to speak with Master Bruce?”

No, he didn’t. He did not want to acknowledge that his mother had lied about something like this. He did not want to think about his apparently dead twin that was just out in the front yard, hugging a strange girl. He did not want to think about how his twin had died. He did not want to think about the situation at all.

But he had to, because not wanting to think about it did not simply make it disappear.

“Father,” he started, pulling the man’s attention away from the window, “We should prove his adoptive parents are unfit first. Then we can move forward.”

His Father nodded, a dark shadow passing over his features.

The task would not be difficult.

If Ras Al Ghul found out that Damian had a twin, he would stop at nothing to take him. It was safer with Father.

It was safer with Damian.

Lancer had not been expecting a phonecall at three in the morning.

He really had not been expecting it to be from someone with an almost identical voice to Daniel, but crisper and with a bit of an accent, threatening him for taking away a…chance?

Something about the boy proving himself to his brother, and how Lancer reporting the Fenton’s for murder had taken that away from him, and some other stuff too.

He was far too tired to make out the ramblings of a teenager with something to prove.

He was, however, just awake enough to remember that it was a Wednesday.

“Young man,” he interrupted, greatly offending the boy if the hiss said anything, “It is three in the morning. Pride and Prejudice, boy, you have school in three or four hours! Why are you awake? Go to bed this instant.”

Lancer hung up on the almost shrieking child and turned his cell off.

He deserved a full nights sleep for once.