Archive of Our Own ^beta

The al Ghul ear cuff is subtle but eye-catching.

A lattice pattern of mostly gold, accented with tasteful twists of green. Regal without being ostentatious, but turning heads nonetheless. Gazes catch on the ornament, looking with interest at its wearer; the newest member of the al Ghul clan. Jason is very familiar with those sharp, assessing gazes, but this is the first time he’s the one doing the looking.

Because when the fuck did Tim Drake become a vampire?

The full cuff on Tim’s ear is the same as Jason’s, the gold and green that marks them as belonging to the al Ghuls. But Tim’s got extra bling to match; emeralds in his ears and fine gold thread draped over the shoulders of his suit jacket. Subtle but undeniable signs that he is a fledgling highly favoured, and thus entitled to the confident lift to his chin as he enters a room full of vampire nobles. It also helps that he’s accompanied by White Ghost, which is pretty solid confirmation that Tim was sired by Ra’s al Ghul. And there’s a moment where the whole room seems to tense, waiting to see if Ra’s will be entering the room behind his present and past fledglings.

Ra’s doesn’t appear. And a room full of beings that don’t need to breathe collectively exhale.

“Don’t act like this is a surprise,” Talia hisses into Jason’s mind. “Don’t give anyone reason to think we are so out of favour that we were unaware Father made a new fledgling.”

“Isn’t that exactly what happened?” But Jason schools his expression. Stays narrow-eyed but aloof as Talia leaves his side to cross the floor in a slither of gauzy green. Greeting Tim with a smile as warm as she’s capable of.

Jason doesn’t follow. Is still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Ra’s turned Tim into a vampire, what the fuck?

Ra’s al Ghul, unlike most powerful vampire lords, rarely makes fledglings. If Jason had to guess, it’s something to do with the man’s ever-growing paranoia and his belief that he’s the only entity on the planet with two braincells to rub together. His contradictory worries of seeing everyone as an enemy and everyone as an idiot makes Ra’s very selective in his turnings. The last al Ghul fledgling created by Ra’s was Fadir Nasser, the White Ghost. And he’d been turned two centuries ago.

Of course, there was Bruce. Who Ra’s had wanted. Who Ra’s had been turned down by, and then, attacked by. But that was an al Ghul family secret, unknown to any other vampire family here. Which means from the perspective of the gathered nobles, Tim is the first person to catch Ra’s eye in over 200 years.

Currently, the kid is matching Talia’s energy with a congenial smile of his own. Projecting an air of unbothered self-certainty, despite being openly stared at as the freshest blood in a pool of predators. Tim doesn’t look like he’s uncomfortable. Doesn’t look like he’s been dragged into a choice, into a world, that he doesn’t want. Looks perfectly fine with no longer being human.

But Jason knows how Bruce feels about vampires. And Tim is a disgustingly loyal boyscout who happily eats up all the shit Bruce spews out. Which makes it really, really hard to believe that Tim would willingly join the al Ghuls.

But what do I know about Timothy Drake? Jason loses the battle against his scowl as he watches Tim laugh at something Talia says. Green flickers in the kid’s eyes for a moment, a perfect complement to the expensive jewelry he’s been gifted, adorned with. And besides, he broke me out of jail, so he clearly doesn’t mind breaking Bruce’s rules when it suits him.

But breaking Bruce’s rules is different than becoming something Bruce utterly despises.

“A new al Ghul fledgling so soon?” titters a nearby woman, who has sidled up to Jason with all the subtly of a perfumed oxen. “Lord Ra’s never indicated he was interested in growing his family. Was it actually Lady Talia who turned that boy, even though she turned you scarcely half a decade ago?”

She tire of you that quickly, little pet? It takes considerable willpower, but Jason manages not to roll his eyes. He can’t even remember the name of the family this woman’s from, which means she’s a speck of nothing who has never interacted directly with Ra’s al Ghul and likely didn’t dare approach Jason while Talia was still close. A classic bottom feeder who’s clumsily trying to use gossip to social climb. Three cheers for the hell that’s the Gotham gala circuit, because Jason’s met a hundred rich assholes just like her.

“Lady Talia is much too busy with my education to be concerned with a new fledgling,” Jason says, in the blandest, most monotone voice imaginable. “Perhaps Lord Ra’s simply realized that he could send a fledgling to these lovely gatherings in his stead and never have to deal with the flapping lips of unrefined gossips again. It’s embarrassing really; I hope you haven’t had the misfortune of being cornered by any of those ill-mannered vultures. One has to wonder how they got on the guest list at all– sorry, what was your name? I’m afraid your face and colours are not any my Lady saw fit to instruct me on.”

The woman does not flush, because vampire, but all the skin goes taut over her bones. A condition that worsens as amusement ripples through nearby eavesdroppers, a few of them actually chuckling. Her hasty retreat only increases the amusement of onlookers.

Yeah, definitely low status; the vampire nobles wouldn’t be so amused if Jason had embarrassed someone high ranked. Though he does still get a few glares from vampires who clearly disapprove of mouthy fledglings on principle, no matter how powerful the family they belong to.

Rules around the ‘proper conduct’ of fledglings is fairly loosey-goosey in comparison to all of the other unspoken protocols that govern vampire society. There are only two consistencies. One: the term ‘fledgling’ distinctly means someone turned with the intention of them becoming part of the noble family that runs a coven, as opposed to someone turned to join the ranks of a coven as a regular, non-noble convert. Two: fledglings wear something highly visible to denote their status and which family they belong to. Only when their family head deems them ready is the mark of ownership removed, signifying their graduation from fledgling to full status vampire nobility.

Other than that, fledgling protocol varies wildly. In some families, fledglings are treated like dirt until they have a few decades, if not centuries, under their belts. Other families treat fledglings like children to be prized and shielded. Some families treat fledglings like pets. Not necessarily mistreating them, but not seeing them as rational beings with self-determination rights until they do something that earns their family’s respect.

The al Ghul family is one of the few families that demands their fledglings be respected from the start. Largely because Ra’s al Ghul, historically, doesn’t waste his time turning anyone he doesn’t think is already worthy of standing at his side.

Hence how absolutely pissed he was when Talia turned Jason without his permission.

No one knows that of course. United fronts are important in vampire society, which is why Jason is still alive. The moment Talia turned him, she’d taken him with her on ‘social visits’ to prominent vampire families they were allied with. Introduced him as the al Ghul’s newest fledgling. Made it clear that she had sired him, but implied that of course it was done with her father’s permission.

And with that, Talia had done the unthinkable: backed Ra’s al Ghul into a corner.

Because if Ra’s killed Jason, as he very much wanted to, it would signal to other families that there were divisions, infighting, weakness among the al Ghuls. He could have arranged for someone else to kill Jason– but the killing of a fledgling was one of the gravest insults a family could bear, and Ra’s would be duty-bound to find the killer and eradicate them and all their kin. Which would require, as the kids say, quite the commitment to the bit.

In the end, Ra’s al Ghul had grit his teeth and permitted Jason’s continued existence.

But maybe the idea of Jason being the only fledgling, the only one allegedly ‘worthy’ of Ra’s al Ghul’s family, was so fucking vile to Ra’s that he’d just gone and turned the next Robin down the line.

Jason’s attention returns to the star of the hour. Timothy Drake; now missing Nasser, who Talia has apparently dismissed in order to appropriate his role as Tim’s guide. She’s making the rounds with him, introducing him to the important vampires in attendance. Sending a clear message that of course she’s fine with a new fledgling so soon after she made her own! Of course she and her father are in complete agreement and definitely not at odds!

No one at this party knows the details about Jason’s turning, the division that it caused between Ra’s and his daughter. But they can certainly smell blood in the water, and Jason can feel the weight of dozens of gazes flitting between him and Tim. Searching for a scandal not yet uncovered.

Almost as bad as Gotham.

Almost.

Eventually, Talia finishes her little circuit and returns with Tim, steering him along with one hand on his back. She doesn’t need to send Jason a telepathic thought; her eyes and smile clearly communicate play nice or die.

“We’ve been introduced to everyone important, but I know there are things fresh eyes see that older eyes do not,” she says, fangs flashing. “Perhaps you can share some fledgling-specific insights with Timothy, to better acquaint him with the guests in attendance before dinner begins.”

And then Jason and Tim are sitting alone in an alcove booth, a drink-laden table and a history of extremely violent interactions between them. If Tim is bothered or nervous, he doesn't show it. Gives Jason a carefully crafted smile, perfectly benign.

“It’s good to see you, Jason,” he says, drippingly demure. “Thank you for sitting with me. I’d be happy to hear any–,”

“Oh, don’t gala at me, it’s fucking creepy,” Jason snorts. He takes a sip of the complementary flute of blood – a very lovely AB negative flavoured with raspberry – then says, “The alcoves are spelled to be soundproof. We can hear what’s going on outside but no one can hear us. As long as you don’t make a super alarming facial expression you can say whatever. No one’s eavesdropping.”

“…interesting.” The benign, demure smile remains. “I need you not to tell anyone in Gotham about this.”

“…what?”

“Don’t,” says Tim, smile strained-verging-on-manic, “tell anyone in Gotham about this. I know we’ve never gotten along. I know you don’t like me. But I need you to keep this a secret. I need you to not tell anyone that I’ve turned.”

“I'm sorry, did you get turned yesterday?” Jason asks, incredulous. “Because that’s literally the only way the other Bats wouldn’t already know.”

Like sure, the al Ghul bloodline and anyone sired by them can go out in the sun so it’s way easier for them to conceal their nature. But Bruce’s hatred of vampires has given him practically a sixth sense for when they’re around. And all his kids are well-trained in the key traits to watch out for when trying to hunt a monster that can pass for human.

Tim certainly knows that, but he still shoots Jason an absolutely poisonous look, an inhuman ring of green flaring around his pupils for a moment. “Unlike you, I’ve been careful. They don’t know. And they can’t know. Jason.”

The ire bleeds out of the kid’s expression. He swallows hard. “Like I said, I know we don’t get along. But it seems like we’re probably going to be around each other for a…long time. So I hope we can…can work something out to co-exist. I’m fine with it being a serious of favours and repayment. Nothing more personal that. So I’m asking for repayment now, for that time I broke you out of prison. Keep this secret. Don’t tell the Bats. Please. They can’t…they can’t know.”

Bruce can’t know, is what Tim means. Because Bruce’s hatred of vampires is volcanic and illogical– the one time his emotions well and truly get the best of him. It won’t matter if Tim never goes on a killing spree like Jason did. It won’t matter if Tim never kills anyone at all. He’ll never be anything but a monster in Bruce’s eyes.

There’s no way he chose this.

“What happened?” Jason asks, all flippancy gone.

“I underestimated how much Ra’s saw Bruce in me,” Tim replies, in a voice as dead as he is.

Several months into working with the League of Shadows to search for Bruce, Tim had realized he was missing chunks of time. His mind kept trying to ignore the gaps, but he’d eventually managed to employ meditation techniques to ground himself. And while it hadn’t unblocked the memories, he’d at least fully realized that he was under a compulsion. That he’d been made to forget something, that he hadn’t set up any of the contingency plans he’d planned to implement in the League’s servers and networks, and that there were tender spots on his neck- barely there scar tissue from wounds repeatedly reopened and unnaturally healed.

“Even without the actual memories, it was easy to put the pieces together,” Tim says, grim in his remembrance. “I was unconscious when I was brought to the League. It would have been easy for Ra’s to bite me then, which means I was under his power from the start. And maybe it’s something I should have guessed that Ra’s would have done, a contingency plan of his own. But…I didn’t realize his interest in me was already so strong. Ra’s isn’t known to just…”

“He’s particular about his tastes,” Jason finishes.

Ra’s was extremely selective about whose blood he deigned to consume, especially directly. In combat, he broke necks, ripped out organs, tore off limbs, but didn’t use the traditional vampire tactic of biting and bloodletting. He only ever sunk his fangs into those he deemed worthy. “He must have been watching you for awhile.”

“Apparently,” Tim grits out. “But I didn’t know that. So I never suspected he would have bitten me already. I made so many fucking stupid assumptions– but maybe it would have been worse if I figured it out faster. Because Ra’s would have had the chance to make me forget again.”

Because regardless of when Ra’s had first bitten Tim, he definitely re-upped the compulsion over the next few months, certainly during each gap in Tim’s memory. But after meditating, Tim had been able to push past the compulsion preventing disobedience, had finally been able to implement his fuck the League contingencies. Knowing he’d be screwed if Ra’s had the chance to compel him again, Tim spent the next few weeks dodging Ra’s like crazy. Until he could finally set his plan in motion and get himself and Tam Fox the fuck out of there.

“I was scared out of my mind, but felt so fucking smart,” Tim explains, all bitterness. “But in retrospect, me escaping, blowing up the League bases– it was all something Ra’s allowed to happen. I mean, I don’t think he wanted his bases destroyed. But me finding a way around the compulsion, getting out, fucking shit up– it was all within the parameters of what he expected. He just wanted to see what I’d do and was willing to sacrifice some of his own interests to facilitate that. It was a test. And after I thwarted his attacks in Gotham, I passed. And the prize was - you guessed it! - getting turned. Lucky fucking me.”

The pit of Jason’s stomach burns with a familiar anger. The hatred of those who force people into things they don’t want. It’s not surprising, knowing that Ra’s tried to force a turning on Bruce too. But Jason’s hatred flares brighter all the same, an ire stoked with this new, horrifying kindling.

“Did he kidnap you?” Jason growls. “Sometime before Bruce returned from the timestream?” That would make Bruce not realizing what happened slightly more plausible; although Dick definitely should have noticed.

But Tim shakes his head. “Ra’s turned me that day. The same day I stopped him in Gotham. I confronted him, distracted him, expecting him to snap my neck. He didn’t. He drained me.”

Tim looks away, takes hold of his champagne flute and throws the whole thing back. A sympathetic wince rocks through Jason.

Draining sucks. Which is both a terrible pun and a horrible understatement. Jason’s brain had been basically not there at the time, but even through the near catatonia he remembers the draining. Remembers the terror that sets in as every process in your body begins to slow, every organ struggling. The unending sensation of leaking, of your life draining away swallow by swallow. Too weak to move in matter of minutes, lungs and hearts slowing, stuttering. Until everything finally stops.

Talia pet his hair the whole time, held him close. Hummed as she drank, in her best attempt at soothing. It was still absolutely fucking awful getting drained, even by someone who made it clear she cared about him, even when his brain barely knew what was happening. Jason can’t imagine what it was like getting drained with your brain fully online, in the grips of someone that just wanted to own you.

“The memory block is gone now. Dissolved when I died. So I know what happened,” Tim continues, one finger idly running down the stem of the empty, blood-stained champagne flute. “All those times Ra’s bit me. It was always in the server room. My back to the door and the computers in front of me. Ra’s would slink in, and I’d see the reflection of his eyes in the screen and be gone. Go limp. Then he’d drink from me. Command me not to act against the League, to not remember this ‘visit’, and to not notice the bite marks. And then…maybe after I’d been in the League for a month…he started to make me drink from him. Repeatedly, over the rest of the time I was with the League. And I…I didn’t stop him.”

“Couldn’t stop him,” Jason corrects sharply. The anger bubbles hotter in his stomach. I’m going to kill him one day. A passing desire that’s been present for years, but that now crystallizes into a concrete goal. I’m going to wipe Ra’s al Ghul off the face of this earth.

“When he killed me in Gotham, I already had enough of his blood in me to turn,” Tim continues, as if Jason didn’t say anything. “And he brought our fight into a stairwell where the walls would block comms and radio. Dick almost– I learned later that Dick swung right by the building we were in. Never knew what was happening inside.”

Too late again, boy wonder. Jason takes another drink from his own glass to swallow down a bitter remark. Then asks, “And after he turned you, Ra’s what, just let you go? Let you run off to pretend everything was fine?”

Tim hesitates. “I…don’t want to jump to conclusions. I made a lot of stupid mistakes, thinking I could outthink and outplay Ra’s al Ghul when everything I was doing actually played into his plan. So I don’t want to assume that there was something that actually caught him off guard. But…I think it’s possible he genuinely didn’t account for Superboy.”

“Superboy?” There’s no hiding Jason’s skepticism. He thinks of the pint-sized photocopy of Clark who Talia always grumbles is utterly unsuitable for my son and is completely baffled. Then remembers– “Wait, which size Superboy?”

“Venti.” Tim replies, with a brief look of amusement. “Conner was in Gotham, helping fight the League. And he…he heard my heart slowing. Heard me dying. But he was guarding Alfred and couldn’t just leave him. By the time Conner had flown Alfred over to Barbara and Cassie, by the time he’d found me and Ra’s…I was already…”

Tim closes his eyes for a second. Genuine pain and regret staining every corner of his expression.

But then slowly, surprisingly, he smiles.

“I’ll admit,” Tim says, smile small but genuine, “it was kind of nice that the first thing I saw waking up as a vampire was Superboy and Ra’s al Ghul in a WWE smackdown. Again, I don’t want to assume I in any way got one over on Ra’s al Ghul, but…”

“But Kryptonians are one of the few things that can go toe-to-toe with an ancient vampire, and there’s no way Ra’s wouldn’t have had Kryptonite on him if he expected Superboy to burst in,” Jason puts together. He grins. “No yeah, I think you can take that win.”

Tim’s flickering smile remains. “I’d like to. But I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure. If Ra’s was planning to take me with him and didn’t expect Superboy to burst onto the scene. Maybe he knew I’d ask Superboy for help in Gotham, but didn’t know he had my heartbeat memorized, would be able to find me.”

The smile fades. “Or maybe he was always planning to leave me in Gotham. That’s what he said, anyways. That he wasn’t going to make me a prisoner, when one day I’d be family. That he had all the time in the world to wait for everyone I cared about to be dead. That I would be at his side in the end, when there was no one left. That he might not even have to wait for me to outlive everyone; just wait for me to be…alone.”

Wait for you to be found out by Bruce. Wait for Bruce to try and run you out of Gotham. Wait for Bruce to try and turn all your loved ones against you.

But it’s clear Tim knows that. Is doing everything he can to stave it off, delay it. Hide what he is for as long as possible.

“And you can trust Superboy to keep this to himself?” Jason asks, voice low. “Boyscout won't squeal?”

“He’s not even close to a boyscout, Jason. You can’t conflate him with Clark.” But Tim doesn’t sound annoyed, just fond. “No, Kon’s kept the secret. He knows how Bruce feels about vampires. And he also…I made it clear I wouldn’t have wanted him to make any choice but protecting Alfred, but Kon still blames himself for what happened. Like really blames himself. It doesn't matter how many times I tell him– never mind. What's important is that he’s kept my secret, and he’ll keep keeping it. We did tell Impulse and Wonder Girl though. And they’ve been…helping.”

Yeah, I bet. Demigod and Kryptonian blood are more filling than human blood. The effect of meta blood depends on the person’s unique physiology, but Jason’s heard that drinking a speedster’s blood is like coffee in small doses and cocaine in large ones. Demigod blood has no drawbacks other than making all other blood seem kind of sucky in comparison, which can develop into an addiction with withdrawal symptoms and everything, and Kryptonian blood causes indigestion. But Jason can imagine that drinking all three together could counteract the shortcomings of each one. Kind of a sweet deal to be honest. One that answers the question of how the Bats haven’t noticed an increasing amount of people with unexplained anemia or a sudden shortage at blood banks. Fledglings need to feed a lot. And Ra’s leaving a newly turned Tim to his own devices in Gotham could have gone south fast if the kid hadn’t had his buffet of powerful friends.

Must be nice. The old jealousy burns, flares. But Jason doesn’t let it consume him, flare higher. Turns out, discovering someone got non-consensually turned for reasons unrelated to brain damage does a lot to temper any lingering resentment you have towards them. Fuck. At least Talia tried to give Jason a choice. Explained what she wanted to do each time she gave him her blood, hoping to see a flicker of recognition in his catatonic eyes.

Jason spares a glance out to the mingling crowd on the floor. He doesn’t spot Talia or Nasser, but the room is quite full now. All of the guests have probably arrived. Dinner will begin soon, a feast of willing human victims, chasing the endorphins and intimacy of the bite.

But it raises another question in Jason’s mind, and he frowns. “Hold on. If Ra’s didn’t kidnap you and is planning to wait to officially pull you into the family, why are you here?”

“Question of the fucking hour,” Tim mutters. He twists one of the emeralds in his ear, scowling. “It’s just– more stupidity, really. I could just ignore him and the vampire world until my lack of aging becomes obvious. But…”

His scowl shifts to an almost abashed grimace. “I’ve been…working on some side projects with acquaintances I made during my time with the League. I was worried if I completely cut off contact, Ra’s would retaliate against them for working with me. But apparently, if I’m going to be bossing around League coven members I need to actually have the authority to do so, which means I need to wear the stupid cuff when I’m on missions with them. And if I’m going to wear the stupid cuff then I need to be properly introduced to the ‘society’. And so once again I’m doing the fucking gala circuit.”

Tim’s expression relaxes a little, amusement returning. “But I don’t have to do it in Ra’s presence and everyone’s scared shitless of the al Ghuls so it’s actually less excruciating, somehow, than Gotham high society.”

“I’m glad you agree that this is child’s play compared to the Gotham gala circus,” Jason says with a grin. “At least here I can tell someone to fuck off and it’s not going to be all over the papers tomorrow and possibly cause Wayne stock to crash.”

Tim does laugh. A sensible little chuckle. But it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You don’t…you don’t seem to resent it at all,” Tim says. And it’s not judgmental, just pointed. “Or regret it.”

“I mean, it’s not like our situations are the same.” Jason tries to shrug casually. Probably doesn’t pull it off. “I was braindead. Not really me. And I– I want to be me. Getting turned allowed me to be me again. Maybe I could have kept living, been some version of happy even, being catatonic and just following Talia around. But…that person wouldn’t have been me. And I’m glad to be me. Even with the extra teeth.”

“I thought it was the worst thing that could have happened.” Tim’s gaze has dropped down to the table. “All of Bruce’s lessons about how it wasn’t a question of morality, of choice. Vampires are above humanity on the food chain. Their sole food source is humanity. Fish cannot trust sharks. Gazelle cannot trust lions. There is no trusting your natural predator.”

“I am familiar with his arguments,” Jason says dryly, “which all disregard the fact that vampire feeding doesn’t have to kill the victim.”

“There are bears that leave their prey alive for days, so that they can eat them slowly.” Tim’s voice is matter-of-fact. “A predator is a predator. And when I woke up, I thought of everything Bruce had taught me and wished I was dead. Fully dead. Tried to think of the quickest way to build a fire big enough to incinerate me.”

Jason winces again, flinches. “Tim–,”

“And then I saw Kon’s face.”

Tim exhales shakily. A holdover human habit, carried over into a body that no longer needs to breathe. “He’d just thrown Ra’s across the room. Heard me sit up. He turned around and saw me and…I don’t think I’ve ever seen an expression of such fucking relief.”

And then slowly, impossibly, Tim’s smile returns. Small and rueful, but there. “The way Kon looked at me…he was so glad I was alive. Or. Not gone. And I couldn’t– I couldn’t even think about offing myself when he looked at me like that. Bart was even worse when we told him; was literally ecstatic that I was a vampire. Said that I was finally no longer the ‘team squishy’ and that their collective stress levels would be significantly less knowing that I now had the accelerated healing that they all did. Cassie whacked him for it. But she was relieved too. Maybe the vampirism doesn’t bother them because they’re not ‘human’, not ‘prey’, but…”

Must be nice. But Jason swallows the acrid jealousy down, and asks a question he knows the answer to. “And what’s your verdict? You look at humans and just see a bunch of Wagyu steaks walking around?”

“No,” Tim answers immediately. Then, louder. “No. Not even for a moment. Biologically speaking, the smell of humans, particularly if they’re bleeding, can invoke similar responses to smelling something appetizing cooking nearby, but there is nothing that makes me stop seeing them as people. The aggression and hunger are similar to the physiological response that occurs during any high-stress situation where survival instincts threaten to override common sense and morality. But me– I haven’t changed. Not my mind. Not wanting to protect people. Not protecting life at all costs.”

A slight, maybe. A jab at Jason’s decision to lean into the worst of vampirism and cut a bloody swathe through Gotham, at the actions he took that seemingly confirmed all of Bruce’s theories about the inherent corruption of vampires. Of the bite and blood turning his son into a monster. Tim's words could be a passive-aggressive swing, a quick slap of judgment and disdain from the boy who is now Jason’s better-bred replacement on multiple continents.

But if it was a slight, Jason chooses to ignore the insult. Focusing instead on the implication.

He says, “You should tell Dick and Damian.”

Tim startles. Mostly-blue eyes going wide. “What?”

“I fucked up,” Jason continues bluntly. “I don’t regret killing the people I did– they all deserved it. Not trying to start an argument, that’s just how it is. But doing that kind of…ruined a role Talia had for me. Looking out for Damian. Being someone who could help him be okay with his vampire side, knowing how much Bruce hates them. But obviously, Damian’s not going to listen to someone who, to everyone in his human family, perfectly encapsulates everything Bruce believes about vampires. A murderous monster. Which means he’s going to grow up hating half of what he is.”

It’s so fucked, and a solid 80% of that fuckery is on Bruce. Giant stupid, shitty, fucking hypocrite. His time training with the League and Ra’s was what soured Bruce to vampires, but somehow in the midst of that, he’d managed to fall in love with Talia. Both Bruce and Talia are always squirrelly about the details, but as far as Jason can gather, Bruce was either actively seeking a way to turn Talia human, or got taken advantage of one of those trickster-type spirits (probably Mr. Mxyzptlk), and it led to Talia spending more than half a year completely human before Ra’s found a way to undo it.

Talia, however, was already pregnant.

“Bruce is…okay with dhampirs,” Tim says carefully. “He doesn’t see them the way he sees vampires.”

“Dad is okay with mixed kids. He doesn’t see them the way he sees Black people,” Jason recites with an arched brow. Tim winces.

The only reason Talia had even sent Damian to Bruce was because Ra’s didn’t believe dhampirs had a place among vampire nobility, but also would never stand the insult of a child of his blood among the common ranks of the coven. He’d rather Damian just…didn’t exist. Talia was permitted to keep her son so long as he stayed out of sight, but that became harder and harder as he grew older. To Talia, Bruce’s prejudice was a better option than the potential of Ra’s ire turning murderous. Especially after she pissed him off by turning Jason.

“Damian and I don’t get along,” Tim finally says. “I don’t know if he’d hear it from me either.”

“Which is why you should also tell Dick,” Jason retorts. “Not just to get through to Damian. But to make sure there’s someone to stand between you and Bruce when he finds out. There’s no way Dick’ll let Bruce slice you up with a silvered weapon.”

Tim’s eyes dart to the thick scar on the side of Jason’s neck. Then his eyes snap back out to the rest of the room. The crowd is beginning to move; a leisurely but consistent shift towards exits.

“Looks like dinner’s ready,” he comments idly. “Ethically sourced.”

“Grain-fed and free range,” Jason quips back. But then, more seriously. “Damian–,”

“I’ll think about it. But…it might be better if Dick took him to Bludhaven.”

Kept him away from Bruce.

Jason knows he’s not responsible for Bruce’s raging fucking hate-boner for vampires. He’s not responsible for the loathing in the man’s heart. But the guilt gnaws anyways, the certainty that he’d ruined things for Damian, ruined the chance to repay Talia for turning him. The consequences of his actions leaving someone he cared about out to dry.

Can’t change the past. Can’t marinate in regret when I’ve potentially got centuries ahead of me. Tim’s already sliding out of the booth seat, moving to leave the alcove. Can only make sure not to repeat the same mistakes.

“Tim,” Jason says. Tim looks back, benign smile back in place.

“Ra’s likes to pretend I don’t exist.” Jason continues. “Which means he didn’t spare me a thought, with his whole ‘I’ll just wait for you to be alone’ thing. But I’m gonna be here. I got the same immortality package that you did. Ra’s will never be the last person you have left.”

“So you’re just looking for more reasons for him to want you dead?” Tim asks wryly. But his smile is a little less benign.

They return to the decadent, dangerous party together. Al Ghul fledglings, side by side.