Chapter Text
The Watchtower felt heavy with tension. Its sterile halls, normally bustling with quiet purpose, now seemed muted, dulled by aches, the hum of the teleportation pads louder than usual in the unusual oppressive silence. Bruce stood near the transport bay, his arms crossed, watching intently as the League worked in smooth coordinated efficiency to prepare the sedated fledglings for the move.
He hated this. Well dreaded the aftermath of grumpy baby vampire's when they awake.
Jason lay on one of the overly soft and padded stretchers, his expression slack and soft, his face unusually peaceful in sleep. Bruce’s hand twitched, wanting to smooth the hair back away from Jason’s forehead, but he didn’t. He glanced down the row of stretchers, taking in the still forms of his other children, his kids. Dick, Tim, Damian, Barbara, Stephanie, Cass, Duke, Jon, and Kon. They looked oh so small like this, vulnerable in a way they never allowed themselves to be when awake and aware.
Clark moved to stand beside him, his cape hanging loose over his shoulders. “You know this is the right call,” he said softly, his voice tinged with reassurance as he turned his head to look at bruce. “They’ll be safer on Earth, In Smallville.”
Bruce nodded once, though his jaw remained tight and a sigh escaped him. “I know.” He let out another low breath, his gaze fixed on Jason and flickering back and forth to all the kids. “That doesn’t make it easier.”
Alfred, standing on the other side of the room near the end of cots, he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket with practiced precision. “I dare say, Master Bruce, that they’ll forgive you eventually. Though I imagine Master Jason and Master Damian will be particularly vocal about their displeasure.”
Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced toward Alfred, who stood near the transport controls and fledglings, his hands folding neatly behind his back. Even now as always, Alfred exuded calm and control, though his eyes softened as they met Bruce’s.
“Maste Bruce,” Alfred said, his voice softer but firm, “the children are resilient And they have you.” He paused, his tone gentling. “They will forgive you, even if it takes time.”
Bruce didn’t reply. He simply turned and began lifting Jason from the stretcher, cradling him as if he weighed nothing. “Let’s go, Sweetheart ” he said, his voice clipped but still filled with warmth.
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The farmhouse stood tall in the distance as the jet touched down. It was a big, two-story structure surrounded by rolling fields of green and dense woods that framed the edges of the horizon. The warm golden light of the setting sun bathed the land in warmth, casting long shadows across the driveway.
Clark stepped off the ship first, taking in the familiar sights and smells of home. The quiet chirp of crickets greeted him, a gentle reminder of the peace Smallville always offered.
“It hasn’t changed much,” he murmured, his voice carrying a tone of nostalgia.
Bruce followed after clark, Jason’s unconscious form cradled in his arms. “It’s quiet,” he said simply, his tone flat and neutral but even as he said it, he felt the tension in his shoulders start to ease ever so slightly.
The League worked quickly, carrying the sedated fledglings into the farmhouse. Diana cradled dDamianin her arms as with the same care she would a fragile vase, her lips pressing into a small smile as he shifted slightly in her arms. “He looks so much younger like this,” she said so quietly.
“He is young,” Bruce muttered, his gaze flicking toward his youngest son. “They all are.”
The interior of the farmhouse was carefully prepared. Reinforced windows, thick curtains, and dim lighting ensured the fledglings would remain safe and comfortable. The basement had been converted into a sprawling haven, with plush bedding, soundproofed walls, and enough space for each of them to have the semblance of privacy.
Alfred moved through the house like a man on a mission, checking every corner, adjusting curtains, and ensuring everything was neatly in the proper place it should be. “This will do nicely,” he said with a satisfied nod to himself. “Though I imagine Master Jason will have quite a bit to say about the decor.”
The first signs of stirring came hours later, just as the moon started to rise high in the sky. Jason was the first to wake, his groggy groan cutting through the silence of the basement. He shifted, his hands moving to slowly drag over his face as he tried to sit up.
“What the…?” His voice was rough, his words slurred. His eyes fluttered open, darting around the unfamiliar room. “Where the hell am I?”
Bruce stepped into the room, his movements careful but deliberate. “Jason, It’s okay.”
Jason’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes narrowing. “You knocked me out again, didn’t you?” His voice sharpened, the grogginess trying to give way to irritation. “Seriously, Bruce? What am I, five?”
Bruce crouched beside the bed, his voice calm. “You needed to rest. We couldn’t risk you fighting the move.”
Jason scoffed, sluggishly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Oh, great. So now I’m just cargo to be hauled around? Real nice.”
“Jaybird,” Bruce said softly, the nickname slipping out before he could stop it. His hand rested lightly on Jason’s cheek, grounding him. “You’re not cargo. You’re my son and I needed to make sure you were safe.”
Jason froze at the nickname jaybird. It had been years since Bruce had called him that, and the familiarity of it, so unexpected, shook the edge off his anger. He shook his head, muttering, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue.”
The commotion woke the others though. Tim was the next to sit up, blinking blearily. “What’s going on?”
Barbara groaned, rubbing at her temples. “Why do I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck?”
Stephanie flopped back onto her new bed, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Because Bruce is Bruce, and he can’t just ask us to do things like normal people.”
Damian stirred, his hand immediately reaching for Alfred the cat, who had curled up beside him. He scowled as he took in his surroundings. “This is unacceptable.”
Despite their initial complaints, the kids couldn’t help but be curious about their new environment. As they started to explore the farmhouse and its surroundings, the bond’s influence began to take hold, nudging them toward calm and comfort.
The air outside was cool and fresh, carrying the faint scent of grass, pine, and earth. It was a stark contrast to the sterile, filtered air of the Watchtower. The fledglings filed out of the farmhouse one by one, their expressions ranging from guarded curiosity to reluctant annoyance. The sprawling fields and meadows stretched out before them, dotted with patches of wildflowers and bordered by dense woods. The sky was a deep, endless black, glittering with stars.
Jason shoved his hands into his hoodie's pockets, kicking at a stray rock as he surveyed the open expanse. “It’s… quiet,” he muttered, the admission sounding almost reluctant.
Tim glanced up from his "phone", which was utterly useless this far from civilization and tweaked childproof. “Too quiet,” he agreed, though there was no real bite to any of his words. His gaze lingered on the stars, his expression softening. “I forgot how many stars you can see from here out here.”
Stephanie flopped dramatically onto the soft grass, her arms stretched out besides her as she stared at the sky. “Well, if we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, we might as well enjoy the view.”
“You sound like a tourist,” Jason said, though there little humor in his tone.
Duke wandered a little farther ahead, his eyes scanning the treeline. “It’s not bad,” he said quietly after a moment “I mean, if you ignore the fact that we’re basically prisoners.”
Barbara moved up beside him, crossing her arms. “Prisoners with an amazing backyard,” she sarked dryly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much open space in my life.”
Cass, silent as ever, crouched near the edge of the field, her fingers brushing the wildflowers that grew in clusters. She tilted her head, watching as a firefly flitted past, its soft glow catching in the dark. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
Farther back, Damian clutched Alfred the cat tightly to his chest, his expression just about as sour as ever. “This is a waste of time,” he muttered, though he made no move to turn to go back inside.
“Come on, Damian,” Jon said, nudging his companion lightly. “It’s not that bad. You could probably use the space to practice… whatever it is you practice.”
“Training,” Damian corrected sharply. “And I don’t need a field to train.”
Kon, leaning against a nearby fence post, gave a half hearted smirked. “Lighten up, kid. You might actually enjoy yourself if you stop pouting for five seconds.”
Damian shot him a glare but said nothing, his grip on Alfred the cat tightening as he turned his attention back to the woods.
From the porch, Bruce and Clark watched their kids intently. Bruce’s arms were crossed, his eyes tracking each of his children as they moved through the fields in front of the house. Clark stood beside him, his expression softer, almost wistful.
“They’re already relaxing,” Clark said quietly. “It’s subtle, but you can see it.”
Bruce hummed in response, though his gaze lingered on Jason, who was kicking at another rock with far less force than usual.
Clark smiled softly. “They’ll come around.”
--
As the days passed, the fledglings began to settle into the rhythms of their new environment. It wasn’t immediate, jason still grumbled about the lack of “real” entertainment, and Damian’s scowl seemed to be permanently etched on his face but the tension that had hung over them since their arrival began to dissappear.
The change was gradual, almost imperceptible at first. The bond between the kids and their parents, amplified by the fresh air and natural surroundings, worked its way into their subconscious. It wasn’t control at least, not exactly. But it was there, a soft, insistent presence that pushed them toward calm, toward trust, towards home.
Jason was the first to notice the change, though he didn’t recognize it for what it was. He found himself lingering in the kitchen more often, drawn by the steady and calm presence of Alfred. The older man moved with quiet efficiency, preparing meals and organizing supplies as if they were still in Wayne Manor.
One evening, Jason leaned against the counter, watching as Alfred set out a tray of "drinks". “You’re really going all out with this place, huh, Alfie?”
“Simply doing what is necessary, Master Jason,” Alfred replied, handing him a glass of warmed blood. “One must adapt to one’s circumstances.” Jason snorted, taking a small sip. “Yeah, well, it’s better than the Watchtower.”
Alfred arched an eyebrow at him from his post. “High praise indeed.”
Jason didn’t reply, but his smirk softened into something quieter, almost contemplative. He stayed in the kitchen long after Alfred left, staring out the window at the darkened fields.
Barbara and Stephanie quickly claimed the 'sunroom' as their sanctuary. The space was cozy, filled with overstuffed chairs and lined with bookshelves that Alfred had stocked with care and precision. The large windows overlooked the fields, though the heavy curtains remained drawn closed during the day.
“This is kind of nice,” Stephanie admitted one afternoon, curling up in one of the armchairs with a book. “I mean, for a glorified bunker.” Barbara smirked from her spot on the couch. “Don’t let Bruce hear you say that. He’ll think he’s winning you over.”
“Pfft, as if,” Stephanie said, though her tone was lighter then she liked.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the soft rustle of pages the only sound in the room. For the first time in weeks, neither of them felt the weight of their situation pressing down on them.
Damian spent most of his time near the woods, Alfred the cat his constant companion. The youngest fledgling had always been fiercely independent, but the bond had softened his sharp edges in ways he didn’t fully understand or realize.
One afternoon, Bruce found him sitting at the edge of the treeline, sketching quietly as Alfred the cat dozed in his lap. Damian glanced up as Bruce approached, his expression guarded.
“You don’t have to check on me every five minutes,” Damian muttered, though there was no real heat in his words. Bruce crouched beside him, his voice soft. “I just wanted to see how you were doing, chum.”
Damian’s pencil stilled momentererly at the nickname. He glanced down at his sketchpad, his voice quieter. “I’m fine.”
Bruce rested a hand on his cheek, the gesture brief but grounding. “I know.”
Cass also spent most of her time outside, drawn to the quiet beauty of the fields and woods. She moved like a shadow, her presence subtle but constant. One evening, she stood at the edge of the field.
Diana found her there, blending seamlessly into the back. “It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice soft.
Cass nodded, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
“You’re doing well,” Diana said gently. “Better than you think.” Cass turned to her, her expression unreadable but her eyes filled with quiet gratitude. She didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at her lips was answer enough.
By the end of the first week, the fledglings had settled into a tentative routine. They still grumbled, still pushed back in their own ways, but the bond had taken root. They found themselves leaning into the comfort their parents offered, even if they didn’t fully understand why.
For Bruce, the change was bittersweet in the best way. He found himself using nicknames more often, "Jaybird, Timmy, Sweetheart, Sunshine", as if trying to rebuild the bridges that had once been almost completely burned. And the kids, despite their protests, leaned into the affection without realizing it.
One night, Jason sprawled on the couch Bruce passed by, ruffling his hair as he went. “You’re staying up too late, Jaybird.”
Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t move away. “and you’re hovering again.”
“I’m just here,” Bruce replied, his voice soft. “Get used to it.”
And slowly, they did.
--
As the days continued to pass, the kids began to settle in, though none of them realized just how much the bond and their new instincts were influencing them. They became quieter, more docile, their sharp edges softening in ways that felt natural but unexplainable.
For the first time in a long time, Bruce felt like they were Home.