Mad Jyhad

All my stuff was down there. Dad sure didn't wait long, did he? All of it was boxed up and packed away, my CDs, my movies, my books, my clothes...all of it. At least, all that I had left, I had sold a lot of my stuff off over the last year or so. To help make ends meet. Trying to be part of the team and help out the family.

Fine, that was fine. I didn't care.

He and I hadn't been seeing eye to eye for a long time. I guess the fact that one, he had shipped my stuff downstairs so quickly and two, that I didn't give a shit about it was symptomatic of our estrangement. Or perhaps we were just bastards cut from the same cloth that felt each was better off without the other. I couldn't tell you. On the other hand, maybe being turned had changed my way of thinking more than I had thought, unshackling me from the conventional way of thinking.

What it comes down to is...I didn't even feel hurt by it.

I felt...nothing.

Detached.

I wondered if I was just in denial myself. Going through the grieving steps. Maybe, I was grieving my own death! I giggled because that was so funny. I heard the stars laughing and I laughed with them.

The sun was out, but they were there...hiding in the sun's rays. I knew better than to go near the sun. I could hear a high whining sound every time I went near the tiny window. It was a warning. Do not touch. Danger...danger, Will Robinson, DANGER!

I whispered, "Shh!"

I needed to stop laughing someone might hear! That would be no good! Little dead boys don't laugh in dark dingy basements! Well, maybe Stephen King's basement but that was his problem!

Luckily, the faucets down there still worked and I got cleaned up. All my clothes still fit me.

What a stupid thought! Of COURSE they would still fit me! I was DEAD! I'm never growing again! I wondered if Superboy would be pleased? He wouldn't be the only one still getting carded fifty years from now! I couldn't help but laugh again, imagining it.

And Secret? What would she think? Wow, Young Justice just needed a Witch now and we would be all SET! Hmm? Would a Vodoun priestess in training count? We could have ourselves a real Wendy the Werewolf Stalker episode here!

Yeah, I finally realized that I was dead. Tried taking my pulse while I washed my hands. Which had healed quite a while ago. No pulse. No heartbeat. And I tried to hold my breath...discovered after about three minutes that I didn't HAVE to breathe. Held it for ten minutes...or rather just didn't breathe for ten minutes. I had to remind myself to resume breathing. So apparently, breathing was optional. I supposed that could be useful.

What to do now though? I had no interest in seeing dad. Actually, that might have been a bit dangerous. How would he have taken it? What would he have done?

I needed information. That was all there was to it. I needed to know more about my condition. What I could and couldn't do.

I needed to speak to Oracle. I needed a computer!

I needed my uniform.

Lucky for me, I had spares all over the city. I just had to wait for the sun to go away. {Day is done, gone the sun.} So I laid out my old blanket and sat down on it. I listened as the stars twittered on about nothing and the sun hissed at me. Trying to tempt me outside. Taunting me.

My eyes felt so heavy. I couldn't stay awake. Faintly, just under the meaningless sounds of night fighting with day, I heard a faint thud-thud sound. I found myself lulled to sleep. {All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.}

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Hands touching me, moving me roughly with little regard, cold, very cold, unable to move. Doctors? Masks looking down on me, eyes bored and uncaring. Droning of voices. Cold metal, lying at an angle, rubber brick under my back. Droning voice continuing. Disinterest.

Hands moving me, pushing, prodding.

Pain, searing, icy, cutting, deep from shoulder to breast bone then down to my pelvic. Unable to scream, unable to move, unable to get away...

Ripping, jerking, pulling, peeling, excruciating, laid bare.

The sound of a saw...

A radio turned on...music...

I woke up to the sound of a drum, a loud drum, beating in a steady rhythm. A steady thud-thud sound that had only been faint in the early morning had grown to a level that seemed to shake the very walls.

Was my dad under attack? Had a war broken out in the days since I was buried? Was my identity common knowledge now and someone coming for vengeance?

I had to know!

I found myself running up the steps praying I would be in time. Only to get to the top and realize that nothing was happening. Nothing was disturbed. Only the sound seemed to exist.

Tracing the sound I discovered that my father and stepmother were sitting peacefully in the sitting room, unaware of anything out of the ordinary.

My stepmother looked terrible. It took a few seconds to realize that she had a picture of me beside her... she was looking at it. She missed me!

I almost smiled. She really liked me. Nice to know that at least someone cared that I had died. My father calmly read the paper.

Shaking my head and I continued to look for the source of the sound.

I really wish I hadn't bothered, because my face cramped up and I knew EXACTLY what I was hearing. I needed to get out of there. Away from their beating hearts. Away from the blood flowing through their veins, calling me, demanding that I drink. Away before I killed them.

As I slammed the door behind me I could hear my father yell, scared and angry. I had to get away from thereore ore the police arrived.

My feet barely touched the ground as I practically flew away from the site.

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I was going mad with hunger. I wanted to rip people apart. I wanted to bathe in their blood. I wanted to feast until I heard the beating of their hearts become silent. It was all I could do NOT to give in.

I found myself in the park. Not a good place to be after dark. Not that it mattered, because apparently, I was now one of the things to fear.

I slowed to a walk trying to figure out where to go, what to do next. That's when I saw the old man. He was lying on a park bench. Nearby was an old weathered shopping cart. It was filled to overflowing with, hell, I'm not even sure what all it was filled with to be honest. There were bags of junk piled upon more junk, all of it covered with scraps of cloth. Ripped and torn toys hung from the handle, tied with bits of string. I found myself creeping closer to him, I wanted to look at him, see him up close.

He wore many layers of old clothing, one on top of the other. But the outer layer was a brown jumpsuit made of some sort of denim material. I'm not sure what it is called; I've seen lots of construction workers wear it though. He seemed warm enough though.

He was filthy and it was difficult to get too close. My nose was more sensitive than it used to be. Gray hair hung around his ancient face, which looked peaceful in sleep.

Would it repulse you to know that I wanted to touch him, to stroke his hair back out of his eyes and take him into my arms? I almost loved him, as my teeth dropped down and the cramping feeling in my face told me that I had once again changed into a monster. His body seemed to pulse with life and I wanted it. All of his pulse points throbbed and called to me, the places where the blood flowed easiest.

I wanted it.

I would have taken his life that night. I don't deny it. But lucky for him I was interrupted before I could move closer.

I sensatreatred nearby, those that killed my Sire. I ran in another direction and found myself near the zoo. A cacophony rose around me. I could hear every individual heartbeat at maximum volume, every moan, every sigh, every growl, every whimper, every whine...every animal in the joint all at once. And it all meant the same thing to me.

Kill.

Having momentarily lost the others I took advantage of the situation.

The hatred surrounded me as I wipe at the blood on my face.

I ran, trying to keep out of sight. I didn't want to be seen by anyone, especially a human. A kid my age? At night? With blood covering him? That would go down REAL well, wouldn't it?

But the pain in my stomach was gone and my face had returned to normal. At least my fingertips told me so.

I circled around and doubled back the way I had come. Relieved when it became apparent that the others had moved on. I zeroed in on one of the many places Batman had set aside for our personal use. I would find my uniform there as well as a place to clean up. I just hoped no one else was around as well. I didn't think I was ready for that yet. I needed...more information.

To be honest, I was not that thrilled with the idea of seeing Oracle.

I opened the security lock under an unassuming statue and let myself into the small trapdoor. Down a dimly lit tunnel, my bare feet made light sounds before I turned into a large room. I sighed in relief. Finally, something...familiar...safe...something I could hold onto.

I never knew that would happen. It had always been Robin was the unreal identity, the fake, and then I would go home to a nice 'normal' life. But now that life was gone and I was left only with Robin.

Would Batman ever really consider having one of the walking undead as a partner? Would he now consider me evil and stake me? Would staking even kill me? Or would he try to save me?

I was not the first dead 'hero'. I was actually in decent company. As I thought about this it occurred to me 'Didn't I hear about a vampire once being a member of the Titans? Or was he just a 'fake' vampire? I wish I knew.'

"Nightwing would know. I am SUCH a dummy! I can contact Nightwing!"

I put my bloodied clothing in a basket and set them on fire. Watching them burn. I heard the same hissing sound the sun gave off earlier. Warning, do not touch...it said. As the fire burned I pulled on my uniform. It was a relief; a second skin and I felt myself begin to relax.

{Fire, friar, fryer...}

I ignored the rambling instead sitting down to watch the fire. The flames flickered and danced and I found myself pulling burnt fingers back.

All that is dangerous to us is attractive. It calls to us, demanding our attention, wanting us to hurt others or ourselves.

Sighing, I sucked on my injured hand as I threw the photos into the blaze. As they burned it felt...like...I was closing a book. Like I had just witnessed an ending to something painful, an end to an old life and the beginning of a new one.

Timothy Drake was dead and I had no idea who I was now, but I knew that I was no longer the same. I was different and I would never be who I was before again.

I pulled my mask down into place and I felt free.

For the first time since my Sire died, things began to feel a little right. I could deal now. I was not as confused once I put the mask on.

Before then I had felt like a little kid. I didn't know what was going on. It was like I was five years old and my parents had left me in the middle of a big and dangerous city by myself. I had been so confused, so unsure of myself. It was frustrating because I usually thought so clearly.

Maybe that was some more of that whole...Sire and Childe thing. Maybe when I died my brain got a little addled and it was the Sire's job to take care of me until I got my bearings back?

Made sense to me. Only my Sire was dead now. But I still WANTED and NEEDED my Sire. In a bad way! I hated this feeling of 'dependence'. But I was having trouble fighting it.

The mask helped some. I could reclaim a little of my old self-confidence while I had it on.

I needed to find Nightwing!

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Bludhaven.

Didn't seem quite as scary anymore.

I tried to look into his windows without being seen. Needn't have bothered. I could hear the faint beat of his heart.

It wasn't too bad yet. I must have still been full enough from earlier. The sirens I heard earlier as I was leaving Gotham told me that they found the mess I had left behind. I would need a copy of the paper to see what they said, and I made a note to myself to try and get one.

I eased my way to his window. I could hear him moving around. Quietly, almost like a mouse.

Actually, that is so stupid. Mice are really quite loud. Have you etrietried to sleep when a mouse is gnawing on something? It's impossible! They are SO loud! So where exactly did that quiet as a mouse thing come from? That is like saying 'Blind as a bat', bats are not blind. And lemmings don't commit suicide! They got pushed off that cliff! Disney should have been ashamed!

Oh, did I lose the point again? Sorry, oh yeah, right, back to what I was saying. I'll um, just sit back down now.

I tried to open the window and found myself unable to. Locked. Of course it was locked. It was fucking Bludhaven! I wanted to just...break it open...but couldn't bring myself to do it. If I had? That would not go over too well.

Tapping on the window gently got a response. I could barely see him through the curtain, just a vague shape and impression. But sound? I could hear every step he took, every breath.

"Batman?" he whispered.

I heard the unsure quiver in his voice. Had he ever sounded that way when I was alive? Or did I just never 'hear' it before?

I tapped out 'A Shave and a haircut' on the window. I heard the flick of the latch and through the curtain watched him walk away.

"Come in already!" Annoyed. Great, just what I needed, BUT it sounded like an invite to me!

I slid the window open and slipped in. He had turned to the wall to look at the calendar.

It just THEN occurred to me that this MIGHT be a bad idea.

"Nightwing?" I tried to sound calm. I had hoped to put him at ease.

As he turned around I knew that it hadn't worked. He was NOT put at ease.

"No!" he said.

I put my hands up and tried to sound...not dangerous...

"Nightwing, its OKAY! I can explain...sorta..."

He was shaking his head really hard and backing away. At least he wasn't attacking I thought.

I should have learned to keep my mouth shut!

I jumped smoothly over him and it was amazing how easy it all felt. Maybe the breathing optional thing really helped out. I didn't get tired as fast. But he didn't seem like he was going to quit anytime soon, and the last thing I needed was for his neighbors calling the police.

I hit him once in the stomach hard and grabbed him, wrapping my arms around him. He struggled but just like the night I was turned he couldn't escape. I grimaced as a wave of desire flooded through me. Remembering that night, remembering my Sire's teeth in my neck...I shook the thought away.

"DICK!" I gave him a little shake and for a second he stopped cursing me.

"Dick," I said again quieter. "It is me! Tim!"

I secured his arms with one hand and pulled my mask off with the other. He squirmed against me and I tried to think about anything BUT the feel of his body against mine.

"Tim is DEAD!" he sneered at me. He was totally pissed off!

"Dick, please, listen to me, all right? Look at me, LOOK at ME!" I tried to pull him closer. "I'm here, Dick! I'm right HERE! It is...a VERY screwed up story...but I'm HERE!"

He went limp in my arms and I'm not sure if he believed me or if he was faking. But just in case I held on as I lowered him to the floor. He was shaking his head again. Denial...

"Dick, I'm really here!" I whispered. "I know, it is hard to believe...but I'm here."

"You can't be! I...We...You were buried! I saw you in the casket!"

I reminded myself to breathe because it was hard to remember as his eyes fill with tears, so beautiful, like crystals as they began to fall. Eyes so blue they reminded me of the sky that I'll never see again, the sky that holds the sun. All I wanted to do right then was gather him up in my arms and never let go. Protect him from all the bad in the world and hide him from sin, even if it was my own sins. Protect him...from me.

I still feel that way.

I held him still with one arm and began to stroke his hair with my free hand. "Shhh..."

It was a few minutes before I realized that I was rocking him gently. Saying nonsense things as he cried. He had buried his head in my shoulder and again I had to control myself before I did something I would later regret. What hell had he been through since that night?

I lifted his head up and looked into his eyes. In many ways we were much closer than Jason and he had been. He had obviously not taken my death well.

"Listen to me, you are right, I was buried..."

He began to struggle a little and I pulled him closer, pulling him to my chest.

"Shhh...it is all right! I'm here now!"

Never did I realize that I would end up comforting HIM! But it was okay. This wasn't bad. In fact, I needed this. I needed someone else to focus on. It brought back my personal power. Made me feel like a real person again.

"Can you listen to me now?" I asked him.

Dick swallowed as he brought himself back under control. He indicated that he wanted up and I took the chance. I let him go. He stumbled around the room and I realized for the first time what a mess it was in. Not the typical, Dick Grayson is a terrible housekeeper look. No, this was more... Dick Grayson had a psychotic episode and his apartment took the brunt of it.

He gathered himself up before heading toward the couch. I followed silently.

"How?"

Sighing, I sat beside him. "I don't know much about what happened after the...fight. Buknowknow that during it, I was bitten."

Dick nodded and cleared his throat. "You...you...bled to death. Before Batman could work his way to you. He...he didn't find you until the last of the college students had fled. He found you...lying..."

My hands found his and I held them tightly. I raised one hand and briefly brought it up to my lips. I really needed to work on my impulse control. It was all but gone. A big difference from before, when I was so tightly reined. But then... he didn't seem to mind it too much. Perhaps we both needed the comfort.

"What did he do? Does everyone know...that I'm Robin?"

A tiny shake of his head and that odd gulping, like he was swallowing something really bad, "No...no...Batman...stripped you of your uniform and let you be found...as Tim Drake...they think that you sneaked out and went to the college party..."

For a second I wanted to kill Batman. But it was gone in a blink. I would appreciate it if you never told him about it. I think it might strain things a little if he ever knew that I had wanted to strangle him with my bare hands.

"Typical, Tim Drake, juvenile delinquent in training, gets killed while disobeying his father..."

He heard the bitterness in my voice because he was quickly shaking his head. "Tim, it wasn't like that! He...he...he had to...pro-"

I waved him off. "Yeah, I know, got to protect the secret IDs' no matter what! I know the score."

Dick was biting his lip. I could see the questions lurking in his eyes.

"How long have I been gone?" I asked him first.

"About a month..."

Nodding, I tried to smile. It didn't reassure him. "Dick? What do you know about vampires?"

It is amazing. Eyes. They can display so much emotion, say so many things...and what I saw in his eyes...

I reached out and touched his face gently lifting his chin. "Don't cry anymore. It hurts to see you cry."

"You..." He rubbed at his face frantically. "You...um...?"

"Yeah, I woke up...I'm not sure...days ago...at first, I thought...it was a trick...that you and Batman would rescue me..."

He made a sound. A tiny little sound I would never have associated with him, a wounded sound. I squeezed one of his hands. "It is all right."

{All is well, safely rest.}

I felt so much...confidence telling him that. Like I could al bel believe it myself. And suddenly I needed him so much. I wanted him so much. I wanted to make him mine and keep him. My gums began to prickle and I turned away. No, I would NOT do this to him!

As the feeling faded I took a deep breath. Funny how I noticed it more now, now that I didn't NEED to breathe...I find myself...wanting to...needing to...enjoying it even. Feeling the rush of air as it enters and the sound as it leaves. Tasting the very air! As I was finding out, if I didn't breathe in and out, I couldn't talk.

"I finally got...anxious...enough...that I clawed my way out of my coffin."

The look on Dick's face... suddenly I was no longer comforting him because he had pulled me to him. He was holding me so tight that if I had to breathe there would have been no way in hell I could. He pulled me into his lap and I couldn't understand a word he was saying. It seemed to be a mixture of Rom and babble and all I knew was that his hands were everywhere, in my hair, on my back, on my face. He was crying again.

You ever have one of those moments where things just sort of click? I had one, 'Oh, Rom, vampire...duh!'

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