Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat. “We’re all mad here. I’m mad, you’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat. “Or you wouldn’t have come here.”

—Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

--

The high Dean had been riding out in the alley vanished the second he and Dick walked back into the bar and he spotted Dick’s brothers gathered around their table with Sam. It hit him like a punch to the gut. Tim and Damian had seen Dean kissing Dick. They knew. And there was no way that he was going to be able to convince Dick or his brothers to keep that a secret, especially not after their moment in the alley. Especially not when wanting to keep it secret was what had torn them apart in the first place. Sam would be suspicious anyway, after his reaction to Dick. He would want answers that Dean wasn’t sure he was ready to give him just yet.

Dean clenched his hands into tight fists. He had faced demons, ghouls, werewolves—an entire assortment of horrifying supernatural monsters. Why was facing his little brother sending a spike of fear through his gut greater than any of that nightmarish shit? It shouldn’t be. This was Sam. The boy he’d pulled from a burning building. Twice. The boy he had practically raised. Logically, he knew that Sam would not hate him, not for this. But Dean Winchester had never been very good at the whole “logic” thing.

Warm fingers suddenly wound around his wrist and pressed gently. Dean looked over to see Dick smiling softly at him and his fist loosened a bit to let Dick lace their fingers together. He squeezed them and took a deep breath before stepping up to the table. His chest was tight and his palms were clammy, but Dick never let him go, standing right there the whole time.

“Dean!” Sam looked up at him, smiling. His brows were drawn together in confusion. “Where the hell’d you go?” He didn’t seem to notice Dean’s fingers twined together with Dick’s at first. Dean saw the instant he did, his eyes going wide and lighting with a suddenly sharp and knowing look, lips parting in shock.

He cleared his throat and hurriedly tugged his hand out of Dick’s, speaking before Sam could say anything else.

“Had to work something out with Dick,” he said.

Damian, who was looking up at the two of them with a knowing smirk, snorted. “From where we were standing it looked like you were doing more than ‘working something out’.”

Dick swiftly kicked him in the ankle. “Hush, Dami.”

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. “So you two know each other then,” he said.

“Obviously,” Jason said, eyeing Dean and Dick speculatively. He cocked his head to the side. “So… hang on a second. This is that Dean? The guy Babs said broke your heart in high school?”

Dick scowled. “I never said—He didn’t break my heart. We dated, we broke up. Shit happened,” he snapped defensively, crossing his arms and glaring down at his brother.

Sam, oddly enough, didn’t react to the revelation that Dean had apparently dated Dick in high school. Dated. God, now he was using that word. He cringed mentally and tried to keep his thoughts in order. He had damage to minimize.

“Something you wanna tell me, Dean?” Sam asked. There was amusement in his voice. Fucking amusement. Like this was all some hilarious misadventure in the life of Dean Winchester. He scowled and clenched his fists again.

“Yeah, alright,” he snapped. “Dick was my… boyfriend for a few months.” Goddamnit that word tasted weird in his mouth. “We screwed around. So what?”

Sam raised a brow in that condescending, patronizing way of his and Dean wanted to deck him one good time just to wipe that look off of his face.

“So… nothing…?” Sam said, voice raising a bit at the end of the second word. “I don’t care who you screw around with Dean. Or who you screwed around with in high school. That is a list longer than my fucking arm, dude. It’s not like this is some huge revelation.”

Dean frowned. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. What? You want me to start ranting about homosexuality and fire and brimstone or something? I’m not some conservative pastor in a Baptist church, Dean. I’m your brother. I couldn’t care less who you fuck.”

“You seriously have nothing to say about this?” Dean demanded.

Dick smirked a bit, nudging him in the side. “I told you, Dean.”

Sam smiled. “Should I?”

Dean threw his hands up and sat down heavily next to his brother. “Jesus. That was a decade’s worth of freaking out over nothing.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t blame me for you own fucked up psyche.”

The weird tension Dean had felt dissipated some. He could still feel eyes on him whenever Dick sat down next to him and carefully wrapped their hands together. He tugged it away and Dick let it go, glancing at him sharply, but not saying a word. Hopefully he could at least understand how very much Dean was not going to be into the whole PDA thing. Especially not holding hands like he was some fucking girl, Christ.

“Well,” Jason leaned forward, changing the subject. “Now that that weirdness is all sorted out, how’s about someone tells me why I’m lucky enough to have my dinner crashed by not one, but three annoying little birds.” He paused, glanced at Dick and corrected himself. “Or should I say one big bird and two little birds.”

“Ha, hilarious, Jay,” Dick rolled his eyes. “We’re here about Arkham. We need all-hands-on-deck here, and we figured you’d want in.” He glanced sideways at Dean and Sam. “And, after talking to Dean about your last case, I figure we can use his and Sam’s help too.”

“Whoa,” Jason leaned back, looking a bit stunned. “Not only are you asking me for help, but you’re asking two total strangers to come in on this? You must be desperate. That, or Bruce is out of town.”

Dick frowned. “A bit of both, actually.”

“Um,” Sam leaned forward. “What exactly are we talking about here?” he asked, looking from Dean to Dick to Jason. “What’s going on?”

Looking around, Dick sighed. “We should probably go somewhere more private to have this talk, really.” He glanced over at Tim and Damian. “But the cliff-notes is this: we’ve got a problem that seems to be up yours and Dean’s alley. You’ve heard of Arkham, right? We think it might be haunted.”

Tim frowned. “Dick thinks it’s haunted. I think that’s a little far-fetched at the moment. We don’t have enough facts yet.”

“Either way, we could use the help. Dean agreed.”

Sam eyed Dean with a faint frown. “Okay, but… why exactly is Arkham your problem anyway?”

Tim shot Dick a hard look that reminded Dean far too much of Sam’s bitchface. “Yeah, Dick, why is Arkham our problem? Care to explain how we’re going to get Dean and Sam’s help here without bringing them in on everything else?”

Tim and Sam would be fucking best friends, Dean decided instantly. That was the same tone, the same annoying little patronizing look. Jesus. How were there two of him?

“Well,” Dick looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kinda already spilled to Dean. So.”

“What!?” Damian seemed outraged. “Grayson! I know your mind is clouded with hormones at the moment, making you even stupider than usual, but how could you be that reckless? Without even speaking to us about it first!?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. I should’ve… I should’ve waited, talked it over with Bruce, but. We’re on a tight schedule here. Arkham’s starting to look like a ticking bomb. And I trust Dean.”

Jason laughed and shook his head. “Wow. Dickiebird making judgment calls based on what his dick’s saying. That’s almost funny.”

“Oh, shut up, Jason.” Dick scowled at him. “I made the call. I’ll deal with any consequences, I already said that. If Bruce wants to read me the riot act later he can. Right now, our priority is saving lives.” His eyes shot to Jason. “So are you in or what?”

Jason seemed to think about it for a second. “I don’t know. It’s kind of funny how you guys want nothing to do with me for months and then, the second you get yourselves in hot water you come running to me, begging for my help.”

“We aren’t begging for anything, Todd,” Damian practically sneered. “We’re offering to let you help us. And I for one think it’s a bad idea. We don’t need your help.”

Dick sighed and shot the younger boy an annoyed look. “We aren’t begging, he’s right about that. We’re asking, Jay. We want your help—” Damian snorted and Dick glared at him before continuing, “—Arkham is getting out of hand and we could really use another pair of hands in the field.”

Jason’s mouth pressed into a tight line and Dean leaned toward him. “C’mon, dude. They’re your family and they’re asking for help. How can you turn that down? Plus, haunted asylum full of crazy people. That alone is worth saying yes.”

Jason cracked a smile, but shook his head. “You don’t know them like I do, Dean. Family isn’t the word I’d use to describe us.”

“Something we can agree on,” Damian muttered. That time Dick stepped on his foot under the table, causing the kid to swear under his breath. Dean smirked.

“Look,” Tim said, “I know we don’t always get along, but we could really use the help, Jason. We’re all on the same side here, right? We just want to stop whoever—whatever is hurting people in Arkham. Please.”

For a moment, Jason was silent. Then he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, yeah. Can’t leave you hanging in the lurch, I guess. Besides, it is Arkham. Bound to be interesting, at least.”

Sam was frowning, his lips pursed in that thoughtful way that meant his brain was turning wheels way too fast. “Why do I feel like I’m the only person here who doesn’t know what the hell is going on?”

Dick sighed, standing up. Tim and Damian followed suit. “Sorry. We’ll finish this later. Just, you guys finish up here and meet us back at the Cave, okay, Jay? I’ll lay everything out for you guys then.”

Jason nodded. “Right, we’ll be there in twenty. In the meantime,” he glanced at Dean. “I kinda want to know more about this doomed high school romance. Babs never gave me any details. Spill, Winchester.”

Chapter Text

They left the bar less than fifteen minutes later, Jason still trying to get Dean to tell him all the “gory details” about his previous relationship with Dick. Dean mostly ignored him, instead finding his eyes flitting over to Sam every couple of minutes, just to make sure that his brother wasn’t suddenly going to realize that he had very likely touched another guy’s junk at some point in the past. To his credit, Sam seemed more concerned with being left out of the loop about their impending case than the fact that his brother was queer. Dean still waited for the other shoe to drop.

“So,” Sam turned around to look at Jason in the backseat of the Impala. “Can either of you tell me now, what’s going on?”

Dean snorted. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Sammy. Trust me.”

Jason smiled a sharp little smile and nodded. “You heard Dickiebird,” he said. “Arkham’s got a ghost and apparently it ain’t Casper. That’s… really about as much as I can tell you. It’s—well it’s something you’ve probably got to see for yourself.” He glanced out the window. “Left up here,” he said, pointing to a narrow road that led off the bridge.

They were heading farther and farther away from the center of Gotham—to the outskirts, away from the docks and the skyscrapers and the smell of ozone and wet cement. Dean had been to Wayne Manor only once before but he was fairly certain that this wasn’t the way. He frowned, but followed Jason’s directions.

Sam made a face. “Could you be a little more vague?” he snapped. “I think I’m accidentally understanding something.”

Jason sighed and scooted forward, putting his arms up across the back of the bench seat. “Okay, fine. It’s probably a good idea for you two to be prepared before you just waltz in here anyway. You’ve heard of Batman, right?”

Sam lifted a brow, nodding slowly. “Of course. Founding member of the JLA and Gotham’s most famous vigilante.”

Jason’s lips puckered a bit, like he tasted something sour. “Right. Well, short version of the story is this: I didn’t get into the whole crime-fighting thing on my own. Batman had a hand in that.”

“You… worked with Batman?” Sam asked, sounding just a bit short of actually bursting out laughing. “Last I checked Batman had a pretty clear line drawn against taking lives.”

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, spotting the way Jason’s entire face twisted into a horrible scowl. “He does have a point there,” he said. “You seem a little more kill-happy than the Dark Knight.”

“We disagree on the finer points of morality,” Jason said sharply. “But he did train me. And Dick, and Tim, and the little Hell Spawn you met back at the bar.”

“He trained all of you?”

“Dick was Robin Number One,” Jason said. “The Original, the Golden Boy. Etcetera. You’re lookin’ at Robin number two.” He jerked a thumb at his chest. “Tiny Tim was my Replacement after I—was gone for a while. And Hell Spawn is the current younger half of the Dynamic Duo.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam suddenly was turned almost all the way around in the seat, staring wide-eyed at Jason. Dean was struck by flashbacks to the Halloweens when younger Sammy had insisted on being Batman and smiled a bit to himself.

“You’re—you were Robin? Seriously?”

Jason’s expression softened a bit at the awe in Sam’s voice. “Don’t get all star-struck,” he said. “I’m currently the black sheep of the Bat Family.”

“Well obviously, what with the all the apparent murder, but still.” Sam had that starry, awe-struck quality to his voice that Dean had only heard a few times—whenever Sam went off on weird tangents about some supernatural something that was apparently new and exciting, generally involving some form of old documents with new information, or when they were kids and Sam would constantly espouse the merits of the Justice League and all the good that they had done for the world. Not that Dean didn’t admire the JLA, of course, but he didn’t have all the documentaries, biographies, news articles, and tiny scraps of information on them memorized like Sam did.

(He did, however, have a few old Superman posters stowed away in the trunk, hidden underneath old Captain America comics.)

“I mean, you worked with the Batman,” Sam continued. “That’s. I mean—Wait.” He frowned for a second. “Hang on a second. I thought the second Robin was killed by the Joker years ago?”

Jason leaned back in the seat and went entirely still. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror again, frowning at the blank look on the younger man’s face.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I was.”

“But then, how—”

“Look, it’s a long and unpleasant story, okay? Short version is that I died and then I un-died. Let’s leave it at that,” he snapped. “It’s not something I really wanna talk about.”

Sam frowned and Dean glanced over at him, knowing that they were both thinking the same thing. Anything that could “un-kill” a person was bad news. His mind went back several months to the bogus faith healer, remembering the dead creepy eyes of the Reaper as it came for him. To his father dying just to get his head off the chopping block. A demon deal gone wrong? Nasty hoodoo spell? Whatever it was that had brought Jason back couldn’t have been anything friendly—it never was. He would have to talk to him about it more later on.

At the moment he was more concerned with the fact that the road Jason had led them to seemed to be going exactly nowhere.

“Um, did we take a wrong turn somewhere?” he asked, staring ahead at the solid wall of rock that was lit up in the Impala’s headlights.

Jason’s lips quirked a bit into a tiny little half smile. “No, keep driving. Straight ahead.”

Dean glanced back at Jason then back at the rocks. “Uh, yeah, no.”

“Trust me,” Jason insisted. “Just keep driving. We’ll be fine.”

Dean lifted his foot a little off the gas and almost pressed on the brakes, but… Jason hadn’t given them any reason not to trust them so far. He’d been honest about everything up ‘til now, so why start fucking them over now? They didn’t always have the best of luck trusting strangers, but Dean had felt some connection to Jason from the moment he’d met him, really. And Dick trusted him…

He pressed his foot harder on the gas and grinned a bit when Sam gripped the seat, giving him a horrified look.

“Dean, are you sure about—”

Whatever else Sam was going to say got swallowed up by the sound of the engine revving louder as Dean floored and it squeezed his eyes shut, sending them hurtling toward the rocks and probably certain death. Seconds later, after they should have been nothing but a nasty stain on the side of the wall, they were still rushing forward and Jason was in the backseat laughing.

Dean squinted his eyes open and slowly released the pressure on the accelerator, staring ahead in wonder. They had apparently passed straight through the wall and were still driving up a sharply inclined road that looked like it had been carved into an underground cave of some kind. There were lights glowing faintly ahead and the further they drove the more the road widened and opened up, rock and dirt giving way to pavement and slick tiles.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered.

Jason was grinning from ear to ear.

“Man, I forget how much of a rush that can be,” he said. “It’s been too long. Dick used to like to race right at the wall like that with his eyes wide open…”

Dean was still breathing a little heavily, immensely glad that there wasn’t any sudden death or damage to his very recently repaired Baby.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded.

“Some kind of Harry Potter trick, apparently,” Sam said, almost too matter-of-factly. Dean glanced over at him and lifted a brow and Sam shrugged. “What?” he said defensively. “Tell me that didn’t remind you of Platform 9 ¾.”

Jason snorted. “It’s just a hologram,” he said. “Very good camouflage.”

“Very good hologram,” Dean said. “Looked real enough from the outside.”

“Yeah, well,” Jason shrugged. “Bruce can afford the best.”

Sam fidgeted in his seat while Dean continued up the incline at more reasonable speed. “So… Wait. I mean, when you guys are saying ‘Bruce’… I thought maybe, but…”

“Jesus, spit it out, Sammy,” Dean said, smirking a bit. Sam sighed and turned around to face Jason again.

“You’re saying… Bruce Wayne is Batman? Seriously?”

Jason hesitated. “There are a lot of guys named Bruce.”

“Not many guys named Bruce who are apparently rich enough to have a sophisticated hologram hiding their secret lair. Also, I remember seeing on the news not long ago that Bruce Wayne had taken in another kid or something… Named Damian. And I definitely remember reading about him adopting Tim Drake after his parents died.”

“And Dick,” Dean said suddenly, frowning and remembering Dick’s words from so many years ago about being Bruce Wayne’s adopted son and how Bruce was really a great guy.

“Right,” Sam nodded. “So, yeah. He is definitely a common denominator there.”

“Jesus, what are you, his stalker?” Jason demanded.

“No, it’s—I’ve read a lot of articles about speculation for the Batman’s identity. Bruce Wayne’s name came up a couple of times in one of the better theories. I thought it was bullshit then, because Bruce Wayne’s such a public figure; how would he even have time to be a vigilante on top of everything else? But now… Well, I’m not a huge fan of coincidence…”

Jason seemed mildly impressed. “Well, I guess when you get it all together like that, two plus two equals four.”

Sam was leaning forward, practically pressing his face up against the windows as they pulled into what looked like an underground parking garage surrounded by a huge wall of computer monitors, weapons racks, and far too many glass display cases. Dean slowly pulled up next to three motorcycles and…

“Fuck. Is that—?”

“The Batmobile,” Jason said, with only a slight edge to his voice as he stared at the huge black car. Even the Impala looked a bit dwarfed next to her.

Dean let out a low whistle as he pulled the keys from the ignition. “Wow. Y’know, I always kind of fantasized about getting to drive that car…”

Jason snorted, an amused smirk playing on his face. “I met Bats trying to steal it,” he said.

Dean whirled around and stared at him. “Seriously?”

Jason nodded, grinning wider. “Absolutely,”

“Why am I not surprised?” Sam muttered before climbing out of the Impala and heading up a wide set of metal stairs toward where Dick and the others were gathered around the monitors.

“Ignore him,” Dean said. “He’s just jealous because that is awesome.”

Jason just shrugged and led the way up the stairs, holding himself far too stiffly for someone who had probably spent a good deal of time down here. Dean frowned wondered just how badly Jason and Batman’s “disagreement” over morals had really gone…

“This place is amazing,” Sam breathed. He sounded like he was one moment away from a goddamn orgasm and Dean would probably have felt more embarrassed to have him as a brother if he weren’t also in awe of the awesome set-up they had somehow managed to create in some dank underground cave.

Dick grinned brightly at them and spread his arms wide. “Welcome to the Batcave, boys,” he said, making his way over to Dean. Dean hesitated a moment before moving closer to him and relaxed just enough for Dick to kiss him lightly on the mouth before jerking away and looking immediately to Sam—who was still drooling over the computers.

“I figured Batman had to have some seriously advanced tech, but this... this is…” He ran his hand over the console and shook his head.

“Amazing?” Tim supplied with a sharp little grin. “You should see the things Babs can do with a computer. Batman is good, but she’s terrifying.”

Nerds. Dean almost rolled his eyes at them, but Damian was giving them all a death glare and he frowned at the kid.

“Well, now that our cover is sufficiently blown thanks to Grayson’s libido, can we perhaps talk about relevant matters?”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with him. Catch us up, Bird Boy. We don’t have all night.”

Dick sighed and moved back over to the console, fingers tapping away at the keys while he started to explain. “I assume Jason at least gave you guys both a general overview of what we’re doing here?”

“Uh, yeah. You guys are Batman’s sidekicks-slash-weird adopted family. Oh, and uh, the creepy rich guy who gave me and Sam that scholarship is apparently secretly a masked vigilante. Who know?” Dean said, coming to stand beside Dick, peering curiously over his shoulder. Dick laughed quietly and Tim shook his head with a small frown.

“I am nobody’s sidekick,” Damian said sharply. “And of the four of us, I am also Batman’s only son.”

“You’ll have to forgive Damian,” Tim said. “He’s not quite grasped the concept of familial bonds outside of blood. Or being polite to literally anyone.”

“He’s getting there,” Dick murmured, focused more intently on his work than the conversation.

“He’s also standing right here,” Damian said, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t look very intimidating, small as he was, but there was something fierce in his eyes that told Dean and unpleasant story. A kid didn’t get that angry and vicious without something going terribly wrong in his childhood—and Dean should know.

Fuck, Sam’s empathy must be contagious or something.

“Alright, here we go…” Dick motioned toward the center monitor where a grainy photograph had just appeared. Dean squinted it and cocked his head to the side.

“Like I said before: Arkham is having a serious problem lately. Not that it’s ever exactly had the greatest luck as a hospital anyway, but this is different. Four people are already dead and it’s been less than two weeks. We need to figure out what the hell is going on.”

He clicked a few keys and one of the pictures grew larger on the screen. “This is Fred Daily, one of the night guards at Arkham. He was killed two nights ago during one of his rounds. It’s the first death they actually managed to catch on their security cameras…”

Another button press and the video started playing—no sounds, just terribly blurry footage of a thin, light haired man slowly making his way down a creepy ass hallway in what was apparently Arkham Asylum. For the first thirty seconds or so nothing interesting happened, but then the guard suddenly spun around, turning his back toward the camera and froze where he was standing. He must’ve been calling out or something because after a moment, he turned back to his business. Then he started shivering and he turned again, looking toward something off camera. A second later, he was hoisted in the air and thrown violently into the wall. He struggled to stand, but before he could get his feet underneath him something snatched his ankle and he was dragged off camera.

The footage whited out and Dick stopped the playback.

“The other three deaths were inmates—two happening in their private cells and the third happening in the day room where every single other patient claims to have no seen a thing. The administrator was at first claiming that it must have been another patient, but orderlies are insistent that no one was out of bed at the last headcount before Daily went on his rounds.”

Tim leaned against the console. “So Dick apparently assumes it must be a ghost instead of thinking about the fact that Arkham houses some of the most dangerous, crafty and lethal criminals we’ve ever fought. Like the Riddler, who could probably get out of his cell with his eyes closed if he tried hard enough.”

Damian frowned. “Does Nygma really strike you as the type to strangle someone so violently that their eyes pop out of their sockets?”

Sam cringed. “Now there’s a pleasant image,” he said.

“I didn’t say the Riddler did this,” Tim said, sounding exasperated. “But c’mon. Penguin, Ivy, Mad Hatter… They’re all locked up right now too. It could’ve been anyone.”

“Yeah, but what threw him across the hall like that?” Sam asked. “What dragged him across the floor? Nothing showed up on camera.”

Dick nodded emphatically. “See! Explain that.”

“These cameras clearly aren’t the best,” Tim said. “They could’ve missed it. Maybe whoever it was is moving too fast. I’m not saying you’re wrong, Dick. I’m saying maybe we should consider other, more realistic options first before jumping at the angry ghost conclusion.”

“He does have a point,” Sam said. “These cameras are pretty shitty. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve thought something supernatural was going on and it turned out to be just people.”

Dean had a sudden, horrifying flashback to the crazy Bender family and nodded. “Still. Seems worth checking out.”

Sam nodded. “We have definitely looked into less,”

“Really?” Jason asked from right behind Dean, nearly making him jump. He’d nearly forgotten that Jason was even there. “A forty second video is it takes to convince you guys?”

Dean shrugged. “A job’s a job.”

“People are dying,” Sam said. “An angry spirit seems at least possible here and if not, then we still helped save lives.”

“God,” Jason shook his head, looking vaguely horrified. “You sounded so much like Dickie for a second I almost heard that in his voice.” Dick punched Jason lightly in the shoulder and frowned at him like an admonishing parent or something. Which, now that Dean thought about it kind of seemed to be the image Dick was going for with his weird stern looks and lectures.

“Alright then, so we’re all onboard for investigating this, ghost or no ghost,” Dick said, clapping his hands together. “So. What do we need to do to figure out if this is an angry ghost?”

“First thing we really need to do is get inside the Asylum,” Sam said. “Talk to the doctors and patients. Get some EMF readings…”

“Alright!” Dean grinned. “Undercover in the crazy house.”

Damian lifted a brow at him, shaking his head slowly. “Really? This is the man that you are going to entrust out identities and our lives to, Grayson?”

Dean’s grinned slipped and he frowned at the kid. “Hey, we are professionals, Rugrat. We know what we’re doing.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Damian snorted. “But I suppose we’ll see.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh you will,”

“Ignore him, dude,” Jason said. “You’re never going to impress him.”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. Damian stared at him blandly and he wondered exactly what it would take to impress the kid. Or at least get a reaction out of him that didn’t consist of utter disdain and vague disgust. He could probably make that happen. Somehow.

“Undercover?” Tim cut in, bringing the conversation back on topic. “What, you and your brother? Because Dick and I probably couldn’t get away with that, not at Arkham…”

“I could,” Jason immediately volunteered.

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, maybe, but…”

“That’s perfect! Me and Jason make a great team,” Dean said, grinning again. The excitement of the hunt starting to sink into his bones. Something to chase after, to find and kill. To distract him from everything else that was currently going wrong in his life.

Dick seemed dubious about that and Sam’s expression practically mirrored his. “Yeah, that… I mean. Sure,” he said. “We could go undercover. Get a closer look at what’s really going on inside the hospital. Maybe as orderlies or guards.”

“Or patients,” Damian muttered.

Sam ignored him. “But what about the rest of you?”

“We can monitor things from here,” Tim said, gesturing to the computers. “Keep in touch. We’ve got the gadgets. And once you guys get a read on whatever this is, Dick, Damian and I can head in and assist.”

“This really doesn’t feel like a six person job,” Damian said. “Even if it is an angry spirit.”

“We’ve got nothing so far,” Dick said. “And technically it’s seven. Babs is going to be here tomorrow.”

“Babs?” Dean asked, frowning. “Wait, Barbara is in on this too?”

Dick grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Heh, yeah. Forgot to mention that, I guess. She, uh. Yeah. I actually wasn’t really friends with very many people outside of the whole hero community.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “So… hang on. Does that mean… Artemis too?”

“Yep,”

“Damn,” Dean shook his head slowly. “I… I mean. When you said you had a huge secret in high school you weren’t kidding.”

Dick grinned. “Oh there’s more. Probably should give your brain a rest for the night though. Don’t want it to explode.”

“Ha,” Dean rolled his eyes.

Dick wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him closer. Dean squirmed a bit and fought off the blush that was heating his face. Sam and none of the others were staring in horror so he tried to make his heart stop beating so wildly, but it was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.

“Anyway. It’s late and we’ve got a lot of planning to do tomorrow….” Dick said, glancing at Jason. “You can all crash here if you want. There’s plenty of room in the Manor.”

Jason went all stiff again and looked away. “Nah, I should probably just head back to my apartment. I can be here again in the morning if—”

“Come on, Jay,” Dick sighed heavily. “Your room’s all made up and everything. Bruce isn’t even here. You can stay for a night or two.”

Jason started to shake his head and then frowned. “My room’s made up?”

“I—I sort of asked Alfred to make sure it was ready. Y’know, just in case.” Dick shrugged. “Besides, Alfred made cookies. C’mon, you can’t say no to that!”

Jason hesitated for another moment, but Dean could tell it was mostly an act at that point. He sighed and shook his head.

“Fine, fine. I’ll stay. But just until this job is over. Or Bruce gets back, whichever happens first. And only if I get cookies.”

Dick grinned. “Perfect.” His eyes were sparkling with happiness and Dean felt the most ridiculous urge to kiss him right there in front of everyone. He quickly stamped down that urge and disentangled himself from Dick. Dick didn’t say anything, but he gave him an exasperated look that Dean was starting to recognize and feel guilty about.

“Alright, come on. I’ll lead the way.”

“Alfred will be thrilled,” Tim said, smirking. “He just loves when we have surprise guests.”

Chapter Text

Alfred, it turned out, was the butler. Dean vaguely recalled meeting the man briefly when he’d shown up for Artemis’s birthday party all those years ago. He was an older man with a very serious expression and white hair that had clearly once been dark. Something about his eyes made Dean wary; they were almost deceptively soft and something hard lurked behind them. Everything from his posture to his careful movements practically screamed ex-military of some sort and Dean immediately figured it would be best not to piss him off.

As Tim had guessed, he didn’t seem too pleased with the surprise guests showing up in the middle of the night, but he didn’t say anything. The look he gave Dick reminded Dean of Bobby for a moment and he was pretty sure that Dick was going to get a stern lecture about this at some point. Alfred did, however, seem very pleased to see Jason with them when they emerged from the cave and into Wayne Manor via a secret entrance that Dean was convinced would be very at home in a Bond film.

The older man had led them all into the kitchen and offered cookies and drinks—Dean was a bit disappointed to discover the options were milk or water—and Jason and the others had immediately dived in. Well, all except for Damian who only snatched one cookie and announced that he was going to bed. Dean was pretty sure he just didn’t want to be around any of them for any longer than he had to.

After hearing so much hype about these magical cookies, Dean was not going to pass up an opportunity to try them and he was not disappointed. He practically moaned around the first bite and he thought he might have seen a twinkle in Alfred’s eyes when he did.

“These are amazing,” Dean said around the mouthful.

Sam made a face and shook his head at him like a disapproving parent. “Dude, close your mouth when you chew!”

Dean flipped him off with a smirk.

“God, these are just how I remember them,” Jason said, already grabbing his third cookie from the plate. It was probably the first time Dean had seen the other man look genuinely happy since they’d met.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying them, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “I’ll be sure to save you the leftovers to take home with you when you leave.”

Dick clapped Jason on the shoulder, eyeing him closely. “Or you could just… stay here for a while after this is done. Then you could get Alfred’s cookies all the time.”

Jason snorted. “The cookies are good, Dick, but not that good.”

Dean was seriously beginning to wonder exactly what had happened to cause the rift between Jason and the rest of the ‘Batfamily’. It seemed like they had been pretty close, at least at one point. But that was an issue for another time. They had more pressing things to deal with at the moment. It was getting late though, and if they were supposed to be planning their recon mission in the morning he figured they probably should get some sleep soon. He caught Dick’s eyes as the other man glanced up from his watch and smiled faintly when Dick grinned at him.

“It’s late,” Dick said, mirroring Dean’s thoughts. “Thanks for waiting up, Alfred. We’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

Alfred nodded, “Of course, Master Dick.” He turned to Dean and Sam. “I’ll show you to your rooms, if you’ll follow me.”

“Oh, uh…” Dick stopped him, looking awkward for the first time in… well, ever. “Actually, I was kind of thinking Dean could just bunk in my room. If that’s alright?” He looked to Dean at the last part, his eyes wide and still so very blue. Dean swallowed around the last mouthful of cookie and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Um,” he coughed. “That’s—Yeah. I mean. Sure…?” The last word sounded more like a question and Dean caught Sam smirking at him from across the kitchen. He glared at his little brother and stood up a bit straighter.

Alfred looked between Dean and Dick and there was definitely amusement—and maybe a bit of concern?—in his expression. He didn’t comment on it, however. He nodded. “Of course. Mr. Winchester,” he turned to Sam. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you to one of our guest rooms.”

Sam followed the butler out of the kitchen and Dean watched him go with a weird pit in his stomach. It was pretty rare, ever since they’d started hunting together again, that he and Sam slept apart from one another. Most people would probably be thrilled to finally have some space away from their sibling, but Dean mostly just felt nauseous and anxious. He rallied his nerves and told himself to grow up; Sam was twenty-three years old. He could take care of himself.

Tim stood in the kitchen for a moment longer, watching Dean and Dick. “Well. I’d better head up too; see you guys in the morning.” He said.

“Yeah, me too,” Jason agreed, nodding as he and Tim hurried to follow after Alfred and Sam out of the kitchen.

Dean shook his head and cleared his throat again. “Smooth,” he said.

Dick laughed. “Well, for them, that was pretty subtle.”

Dean’s laugh felt forced and he scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, staring down at the gleaming tiles of the kitchen island. “So,” he said eloquently. “Um….”

“What I said… I mean, we don’t have to share a room, Dean. This place has plenty of spare rooms. Tim’s technically staying in one of the guest rooms right now, too… If you’re more comfortable—”

“No, it’s… fine. I—don’t mind sharing a room.” Dean’s face felt like it was on fire; he could only imagine how red he looked at that moment. It had been years since he’d been this awkward around someone he was sleeping with—planning on sleeping with. Maybe. The more he thought about it the more his nerves seemed to jangle inside of him. He couldn’t quite tell if it was fear or excitement or some combination of the two.

“You’re sure?” Dick asked. “I don’t want you to feel any kind of pressure. I get that this is all new to you, Dean. You don’t need to rush anything for my sake.”

Dean’s next laugh felt more natural and he shook his head. “Trust me, Dick, if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t be doing it. But, c’mon, we both know it’s not the physical… stuff… that’s causing me the most problems.”

Dick smiled softly and it made Dean’s heart feel funny in his chest. “Valid point,” he said. “But I do remember you having some issues with some of the ‘physical stuff’. Not that—I’m not expecting anything to happen tonight. We should… really probably talk before we go any farther, anyway.”

Dean grimaced. “Oh, great, my favorite thing. Talking.”

“C’mon, Dean, you don’t just expect us to just jump right back into a relationship after more than a decade apart?” Dick raised a brow. “We still have a lot of things to sort out first.”

Dean shrugged. “Your attitude about this thing is way too healthy for me, you know.” He fidgeted and tried to keep his eyes on Dick’s face, but his gaze kept shifting to the countertop. “I mean, yeah, it’s been a long time and we didn’t exactly part… on the best of terms, but. In case you forgot, Dick, I’m not so good with the talking.”

Dean could actually see Dick fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s been over ten years. You had to have learned something in all that time.”

Dean snorted. “Oh how little you know me,” he said. “In the last decade I can count the number of long-term relationships I’ve ever had on one hand. And the number is exactly one that lasted for not even two whole months, so…”

Dick looked at him a little mournfully and there was definitely something like pity in his expression, but all he did was sigh and nod. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised, really. You never seemed like the commitment type of guy.”

“Yeah, well. Hard to commit when you live the kind of life I do. Relationships aren’t something you really look for when you spend all your time ganking monsters and sleeping in shitty hotel rooms.”

“Or when you spend your nights beating up criminals,” Dick pointed out. “Still. I think it’s probably more than a little sad that my past relationship record looks better than yours. Like, really sad, Dean.”

Dean raised a brow. “You saying you’re better adjusted than I am? ‘Cos you’re probably right.” He smirked at him and Dick huffed affectionately.

“I don’t doubt it,” Dick said. “You know, I thought my life was weird and fucked up, but something tells me that your life is weirder and somehow even more fucked up than I thought…”

“You have no idea,” Dean nodded. “The angry ghosts and vampires are just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Figures,” Dick said, making a show out of looking disappointed. “I can’t fall for a sane guy. That’d be too easy.” He hesitated a moment, seeming to take his time thinking about whether he wanted to ask whatever question had just popped into his mind. It made Dean fidget uncomfortably.

“Can I—I mean—is it took invasive if I ask how your family got into the whole… monster hunting thing?”

Dean blinked. That was not the line of questioning he had expected. “Um. Yeah, I mean—no. It’s… Our mom—she, uh, this demon killed her when Sam and I were kids. Dad spent his whole life after that trying to track that motherfucker down and kill it.” His voice cracked and he grimaced. It wasn’t like he talked about this a lot, but he had thought it was something that maybe wouldn’t make him start tearing up like a girl.

“Sam and me are just… carrying on the fight, I guess.”

Dick frowned, his brows furrowed in a way that shouldn’t have made Dean want to lean forward and kiss the wrinkle away.

“That’s… God, you’ve really been doing this since you were a kid?” Dick sounded half incredulous and it made Dean raise a brow.

“What, like you haven’t? When exactly did you become Robin again?”

“Fair point,” Dick nodded. “But. I mean, it feels different. I at least had a home, you know? Even back in high school I could tell you and your family were… drifters.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well, we lived motel to motel a lot of times. Sometimes we slept in the car. That doesn’t… It wasn’t some terrible life or anything, Dick. Maybe it wasn’t a huge mansion with a butler, and private schools, but…” He frowned, not entirely sure where he was going. Saying ‘we survived’ made it sound like their childhood had been some sort of warzone, and maybe Sam would’ve described it like that, but it really wasn’t that bad.

“But…?” Dick pressed.

Dean cleared his throat. “But I mean, we had each other,” he said, lamely. He rallied himself and nodded. That was true. “Family is better than nothing.”

Dick’s smile was soft and he leaned forward and kissed Dean gently on the lips. “That’s true,” he agreed. “Family is important.” He looked around the empty kitchen and signed. “Wish I could convince everyone else around here of that.”

Dean snorted and reeled Dick closer, kissing him harder. It felt somewhat scandalous to be doing that here, in his home, in the kitchen where anyone could walk in on them. Not that the middle of an alley was really that much better…

“Good luck with that. If you figure it out maybe help me drill some of that into Sammy, huh?”

Dick lifted a brow as they separated. “Does Sam really need help in that department?”

“Oh, don’t let those puppy eyes and the floppy hair fool you,” Dean said. “Sam definitely has some issues with the whole ‘family loyalty’ thing. Not that—I don’t mean he wouldn’t take a bullet for me or anything… it’s… well, it’s complicated.”

“Right,” Dick smiled, his eyes crinkling in a way that made Dean want to kiss him again. Dean was starting to think that there wasn’t anything Dick could do that wouldn’t make him want to feel his lips against his own. “Well. It is getting late, and we should get some rest before we go over everything tomorrow…”

Dean’s mouth suddenly felt dry, but he nodded, doing his best not to show the anxiousness that had just twisted his stomach into knots.

“C’mon. My room’s this way…”

Dick grinned wider at Dean’s half-terrified expression and led Dean up the stairs to his bedroom. Dean followed, trailing just half a step behind him. Dick pushed the door open and flipped on the light, kicking his boots off as soon as he crossed the threshold. Dean hesitated again, hovering just inside the door. Dick turned to look at him, frowning.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Dean?” he asked. “There’s an empty guest room right down the hall if you’d rather sleep there tonight.”

“No, no,” Dean’s voice squeaked a bit and he swallowed heavily. “No, it’s… I just need a second, that’s all.”

Dick watched him skeptically as he took a deep breath and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He followed Dick’s lead and toed his boots off, feeling suddenly a hundred times more vulnerable without his shoes. He cast his eyes around for something of interest to comment on and frowned when he saw his duffle bag. Alfred must’ve put it there when he showed Sam upstairs…

A gentle hand on his shoulder almost made him jump and he turned his wide-eyed gaze to Dick’s concerned face.

“Seriously, if you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Dean said quickly. Maybe too quickly. “It’s just. This feels more… intimate than I thought it would.”

“Sharing a bedroom?” Dick raised a brow and Dean scowled at him.

“Well generally when I share a bed with someone it’s a one-night-only type of deal. And that someone has breasts and definitely doesn’t have a—”

“Dick?” Dick smirked mischievously. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah that,” he said.

“Don’t worry, Dean,” he said gently. “Nothing has to happen tonight. It’s late and we’re just going to sleep, alright? No pressure.”

Dean nodded, but his stomach still felt tangled and tight. “Okay,” he said. He watched as Dick sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his shirt off, revealing tight tanned skin that had Dean’s dry mouth suddenly salivating. He grimaced and quickly ripped his own shirt over his head just for something to do. When he looked back up Dick’s eyes were on him, glittering in the light.

“What?” he asked, glancing down at himself. His eyes lit on the scars and bruises and he made a face. Girls usually thought the scars were mysterious; it gave him an edge. But to Dick they were probably exactly what they were—battle wounds marring his flesh, failures etched into his skin. He started to say something but Dick just smiled and stood, reaching out carefully to touch his bare shoulder.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just. You’re sort of beautiful, that’s all.”

Dean’s face heated so fast he felt like twelve-year-old girl. “I… That…” he fumbled awkwardly and his hands flailed around Dick, not sure if he could touch, if he should touch. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he finally managed to squeeze out. Dick grinned and his other hand grabbed one of Dean’s wrists, pulling his hand forward until it rested on Dick’s shoulder. His skin was warm and felt soft under Dean’s callused palm and he slowly let his fingers drift from his shoulder down his chest before settling at Dick’s waist.

Dick’s other hand slipped around to the small of Dean’s back and then crawled lower until he was gripping his ass through his jeans. Dean held back the squeak that somehow got lodged his throat and was amazed there was any blood left to heat his face after the sudden surge it seemed to take downward.

“See?” Dick asked quietly. “Not so scary. We can move as slow as you need to, Dean. I promise, there’s no rush.”

Dick’s words were a faint buzz in Dean’s ear. All he could think about was kissing Dick again, pressing close and finding out what his bare skin felt like against his own. The fumbling they’d done as teenagers seemed like a lifetime ago—and it wasn’t as if either of them ever got fully unclothed for any of that anyway. He licked his lips and nodded vaguely before yanking Dick toward him and practically devouring his lips.

A low, guttural moan escaped him and he felt himself hardening faster than he had in what was probably years. Talk about being an awkward teenager again. Dick laughed into the kiss when Dean started grabbing at whatever piece of bare skin he could find and began tentatively grinding against Dick’s leg.

He carefully pulled them apart and ran his fingers through Dean’s messy hair. “A little faster than I expected from you,” he said softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Dean started to apologize but Dick was still smiling at him.

“I know; hard to resist all of this isn’t it?”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, the moment feeling suddenly less heavy. He pulled Dick back for another quick kiss and then almost whimpered when Dick held him there and his hand slid down to the bulge in his jeans, squeezing gently. Dean groaned again and leaned into Dick, his hands catching and clutching at Dick’s shoulders.

Dick pulled back and looked into Dean’s eyes. His hands moved to hold Dean’s waist and he sighed. “As much as I would love to carry this to its natural progression… I just don’t know if we should right now.”

Dean bit his lip and tried to think past the heat pooling in his groin. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re… you’re probably right. It’s… I… Not that this doesn’t feel pretty good, but…”

“But we’d get halfway through and you’d probably start freaking out on me.” Dick kissed him softly. “Sorry.” He said, stepping back a little mournfully. Dean took a moment to compose himself, taking deep breaths to try and slow his heartrate as he and Dick stripped down to their boxers.

It was a little easier to focus when Dick slip into bed and pulled the covers back to make room for Dean. Easier, because the knot was suddenly back in his stomach and Dean was sure that if they’d taken things farther he probably would’ve had a panic attack the second they hit the bed. He swallowed and eased his way under the blanket, nearly moaning out loud at the mattress that dipped beneath him.

“Dude, this thing is like heaven,” he said, leaning against the headboard and closing his eyes. Dick grinned at him and shook his head.

“One of the perks of being the adopted son of a billionaire,” he said.

Dean sank down into the pillows and wondered if he would ever want to leave the bed again. Dick leaned over and turned out the light, slipping down to lay next to Dean. The warmth radiating from his body made Dean’s skin tingle and his fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and touch. Then he felt Dick’s hands slip around his chest as Dick settled next to him and he tentatively wrapped his arm around the other man’s shoulders, feeling warmer and more content than he thought he had any right to.

His eyes slipped closed slowly and it was probably the best night of sleep he’d gotten since his dad had died.

Chapter Text

Dean woke the following morning feeling oddly well-rested and warm. He turned over and sighed, not wanting to open his eyes. Slim fingers slid through his hair and he grinned, batting them away. Dick snorted close to his ear, his breath ruffling against Dean’s skin. “C’mon, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased. “We’ve got a recon mission to plan. Plus, Alfred made pancakes.”

He cracked his eyes open, coming face to face with a grinning Dick Grayson. “I don't think I’ve had a home cooked breakfast in years…” He squinted at the other man and reached up, patting the messy mop of dark hair on Dick’s head. “You’re kinda cute with a bedhead…”

“Aw,” Dick smirked, running his fingers through Dean’s own messy hair again. “I could say the same for you…”

“Hey, Dickiebird! Up and at ‘em!” Jason’s voice suddenly called from outside the door. “You two decent in there?” He banged on the door and Dean groaned, falling back flat against the pillows.

Jason didn't wait for a response, he pushed the door open and smirked at them, looking far too amused for Dean’s liking.

“Aw, so cute!” Jason grinned. “Did you two cuddle?”

Dick threw a pillow at him. “Get out, Jason. We’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Better get a move on,” Jason warned. “Breakfast is already waiting and you know how Alfred feels about tardiness.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Oh, and Babs is here. With a friend.”

Dick frowned. “Friend?”

“Stephanie,” Jason elaborated. There was a strange gleam in his eyes. “Timmy is not happy. It’s great!”

Dick scowled, throwing the blankets back. “Put that shit-eating grin away, Jay. And tell Babs she’d better have some answers when I get down there.”

Jason mock-saluted him. “Sir, yes, Sir!” He said, before turning on his heel and heading back downstairs, that gleeful look still in his eyes.

Dean frowned as he dug through his bag for fresh clothes. “Who’s Stephanie?” He asked.

“Long story,” Dick said, pulling a shirt over his head and searching for pants. “I’ll explain later.” He paused, finally grabbing a pair and sliding them on. Dean took the opportunity to stare at his ass and pretended to be very focused on his socks when Dick looked up.

“You’ll probably like her,” Dick said after a moment. “Real rebel type, pigheaded, reckless.”

“Hey, you are at least two of those things, if not all three!”

Dick shook his head. “I am not reckless!”

Dean snorted. “I have a hard time believing that.”

Dick just rolled his eyes and finished getting dressed. “C’mon, pancakes are getting cold.”

Everyone else was already gathered in the kitchen, sitting around a rather large table that Dean was informed was not the formal dining table. Sam looked confused and exhausted. Damian looked vaguely annoyed, though Dean was starting to suspect that it was just his default state. Jason still looked oddly pleased and Tim looked… Angry.

“Did you know about this?!” he demanded as soon as they entered the room, one hand flinging out toward their two new guests--one a young looking blonde girl dressed in jeans and a hoodie, the other…

“Barbara!” Dean grinned when he saw her, forgetting Tim’s anger for a moment. She smiled at him, green eyes crinkling behind her glasses.

“Long time no see, Winchester,” she said, one brow quirking slightly. “Your little brother got cuter.” Her head jerked toward Sam, who blushed and ducked his head a bit, hair falling in his eyes.

“ Dick ,” Tim cut in, his voice pitched high. “Did you know?”

“I'm not even sure exactly what it is I'm supposed to know, Tim, but I can promise you that Steph being here is definitely a surprise.” Dick said, leveling Babs and the blonde with a serious look.

“I can explain!” the blonde--Stephanie--insisted immediately. “It… Well, I mean… The thing is…”

“I'm training her,” Barbara cut in.

Tim glowered even harder and Dean had never been so reminded of Sam’s bitchface in his life.

“Training her for what ?” he asked. “She said she was finished with whole vigilante thing. Promised, in fact.”

Stephanie narrowed her eyes at him. “She’s standing right here and can speak for herself.”

“You don't know what you're doing out there! You could get yourself seriously hurt, or killed. ”

“That’s why Babs is training me!” Stephanie fired back. “And I'm getting better. Aren't I?” She turned back to Barbara, who nodded.

“Look, I know you guys aren't pleased about this, and Bruce is probably going to be unhappy, too, but she’s good . She was good before, just a lot of raw potential.”

“She’s a kid who got in too far over her head and, training from Babs or not, she doesn't have the skills to be out there on the street right now, and especially not anywhere near Arkham,” Tim said, a bit angrily.

“You were all stupid kids who didn't know what you were doing when you started,” Stephanie snapped. “I can do this. I’ve been doing this.”

Girl had spirit, Dean would give her that. She reminded him of Jo, a bit.

“What do you mean?” Dick asked, frowning.

Stephanie’s jaw twitched a bit. “I… I’ve been going out. Couple of nights a week. As Batgirl.”

Jason whistled. “Bruce is gonna be pissed.”

“Nothing big,” Stephanie said. Dean could almost hear a ‘ yet ’ tacked onto that. “Car thieves, robberies. Petty stuff. Things you guys don't always have the time to handle.”

“And I’ve had her back every step of the way,” Babs said. “Trust me. If I didn't think she was ready I wouldn't have brought her here.”

Damian snorted. “Or if Father had been here…”

Barbara sent the kid a nearly lethal stare. “Do you really think Bruce doesn't know? Do any of you honestly believe I could start training a new Batgirl and Batman wouldn't find out almost immediately?” She moved back from the table and--fuck, she was in a wheelchair. How had that happened? When had that happened? He almost blurted the questions out without thinking, but the look on Barbara’s face was quietly serious.

“No one knows better the risks of this life than I do, Dick,” she said. “But Stephanie wants this, and she's good. I think she can help.”

Dick seemed to mull that over for a moment before shaking his head. “I just don't think she’s ready for something as big as this. We’re talking about Arkham here; Killer Croc, Dent, Zsasz, the Joker. Putting an untrained kid in there is too dangerous.”

Stephanie folded her arms over her chest, frowning. “I’m not a kid. And I can do this.When was the first time you went up against someone like the Joker?”

Tim’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. “But we all had more training than you have,” he said. “And that still wasn't enough sometimes.” He gestured to Barbara. “Look at what he did to Barbara! To Jason. ”

“Thanks for the reminder, Replacement,” Jason muttered.

Tim winced and looked apologetic, but Dick cut in before he could say anything else.

“It’s just too risky. This is Arkham. Some of the most dangerous criminals we’ve ever faced. And I know you’re not just some random kid, Steph, but you don't have the experience that the rest of us do.”

She frowned and looked at Dean and Sam with narrow eyes. “What about these two?’ She demanded. “I’ve never seen either of them around here before.”

“Hey, sweetheart, we aren't a couple of newbies. Sam and me have been fighting monsters since we were kids.” He glanced over at Damian. “Longer than some of you have been alive.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “And I’m still not convinced that it’s a good idea for you to be joining us, but apparently Grayson’s libido trumps logic and reason.”

Babs actually snorted at that, but Dick just ignored him.

“They know what they’re doing. And this also potentially runs closer to their area of expertise than ours, so.”

Barbara raised a brow. “ Their area of expertise?” she asked.

“Dick still thinks the hospital is haunted,” Tim elaborated. “And apparently Sam and Dean hunt ghosts.”

Dean made a face. There was definitely a better way to describe what they did for a living.

“So I can’t go along, but you will take the fucking Ghost Busters ?!” Stephanie demanded.

“Do we look like we’re wearing stupid jumpsuits?” Dean half growled. “This ain't a movie. Trust me, if this is an angry spirit it’s going to be more like The Shining. ”

Stephanie still looked unconvinced and Babs’s expression hadn't changed. Dick sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“Maybe… Maybe Stephanie can help you, help us, from here while Dean and Jason are going in for recon…” He suggested.

Stephanie still seemed put out, but Barbara nodded.

“That’s fair,” she said. “Probably a better idea than just throwing her head-first into the Asylum anyway.”

“Wouldn't want me to strain myself by actually doing something ,” Stephanie muttered.

Sam smiled faintly at her. “Being benched might be frustrating, but having to sit on the sidelines can be a pretty good way to learn up close without the risk.”

“Tch,” she scoffed. “What’s the point without the risk ?”

“When we were kids I was the one sitting in motels rooms by myself, or pouring over old books for obscure information that our Dad didn't have time to look up.” He glanced sideways at Dean. “I sometimes resented being their research boy back then, but now? Now I know more information about the monsters we hunt without having to always Google it…”

Stephanie still didn't seem convinced, but she didn't argue. Dean was honestly surprised to hear Sam say he resented being left behind; he’d always hated hunting. Then again, he also hated feeling useless, so maybe that was it.

Dick just sighed and shook his head. “Let’s just eat breakfast, then we can talk shop.” His eyes went to Tim, who only seemed vaguely appeased, and then to Damian, who seemed… Well as unhappy and uninterested as ever.

Dick just rolled his eyes and pulled his plate toward him before sending the others a sharp look. Eventually they all settled down and started eating, but Dean could feel the slight tension still hanging in the air.

After breakfast they headed back down to the Batcave. It felt somehow bigger than it had the night before, but then again all of the lights were on now and Dean looked around in wonder.

Display cases housed uniforms that he has only ever seen in grainy photographs and on the news, weapons glittered at him from shelves and racks throughout the space and… Was that a dinosaur ? How had he missed that the night before?

“Arlight,” Dick headed over to the computers and crossed his arms. “First thing we need to do is get Dean and Jason inside Arkham. Quickest way to do that is to get them jobs on the inside.”

“Shouldn't be too difficult,” Babs said. “Get into their systems, copy some key cards… They’re in desperate need of new orderlies right now so the new faces wouldn't even be questioned…”

“Think you can handle that?” Dick asked.

Babs snorted. “Please. I could do it blindfolded,” she said. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll have them in by tomorrow morning.”

“Why are they going in?” Stephanie asked. “Why not you or Tim?”

“We’re too easily recognized,” Dick said. “No use in either of us going undercover. We are going in tonight though…”

“We are?” Tim asked.

“Yes. I want to get a feel for the place. Plus, they’ve done some remodeling since the Joker’s last escape. Babs or you can probably pull up the new floor plans, but it’ll be easier to guide Jason and Dean through the place if we’ve seen it ahead of time. Bruce already talked to the commissioner to set it up last week; we’re going in under the pretense of interrogating Croc on the deaths near the sewers… Which, thanks to Sam and Dean we know now was a vampire nest.”

“Vampires,” Barbara raised a brow. “That’s a new one.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah. Should’ve been there, Babs. I think I can still smell the sewer shit on me from those assholes.”

“Maybe that’s just your natural odor, Todd,” Damian muttered.

“Anyway,” Dick cut in before an argument could erupt. “Tim and I are going in as Nightwing and Red Robin--”

“And what about me?” Damian demanded. “We agreed I would go in as well.”

“That was when Batman was going to be here,” Dick said. “Bruce is still in China and will be for a few more days. Until then I don't want to risk sending you in.”

“Father trusted me to handle myself!” Damian argued. “There is no reason to change that simply because he isn't here.”

Dick frowned at him. “You follow his orders; you question mine.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I wonder why,” he muttered, glancing toward Sam and Dean.

Dick stared Damian down, looking like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he really should. So Dean intervened before either of them could start arguing.

“I think you should let the kid go in,” he said. “You’ll have you and Tim there to keep an eye on him.”

“All due respect, Dean,” Tim said, “you don't know what this kid is capable of.”

Dean raised a brow. “All the more reason to send him in.”

Damian arched one brow in a surprisingly imperious look. “It seems like your boyfriend is talking more sense than you are, Grayson.”

Dick looked livid and Dean hurriedly added. “C’mon, the kid wants to go in, and if Batman was gonna let him go before--”

“The answer is no, Dean,” Dick said, his voice tight. “He’s a child.”

An unsteady tension had fallen in the air and Dean clenched and unclenched his fists. “He’s Robin. If he can handle the rest of Gotham with Batman--”

“Batman isn't here and Damian is only ten, I’m not letting him within spitting distance of Arkham. And frankly, Dean, you don't know anything about this; you don't get a say.”

Jason cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um… Why don't we talk about what Dean and I are gonna do when we go in?” He suggested.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Because I thought we’d agreed that I was going in with them and I’m kind of uncomfortable letting my brother go in without me.”

Dick and Dean were staring at one another, the tension feeling like a physical thing. Dean wanted to say something, anything, but he was pretty sure whatever he said would only make Dick angrier. He wasn't entirely sure what the big deal was; Damian was young, yes, but he was also clearly well trained and Batman’s son. If Batman thought he could handle Arkham then why was Dick refusing to let him go along?

He thought about how he would feel if someone tried to argue with him about Sam’s safety when they were younger… Or now, for that matter. He probably would’ve decked them. He let out a breath and started to say something when Alfred interrupted them.

“Master Dick? Master Bruce is on the telephone for you.”

Dick suddenly went pale. “Shit,” he muttered. “I’ll be right there. Babs, can you…?” He gestured at the others and she nodded.

“Sure thing, Dickie,” she said, rolling her wheelchair toward. “Good luck with the big man.”

Dick snorted, but he still seemed pretty anxious as he headed to a more isolated corner to pick up a landline there. Dean frowned and edged away from the group, partly wanting to apologize and partly wanting to know what Batman had to say about their growing operation.

It wasn't eavesdropping; it was gathering intel. Obviously.

Chapter Text

Why did Dick have to freaking whisper ? Dean was straining his ears to hear anything that was being said in Dick’s phone call from the Batman himself, but all he could really hear was Babs and Tim arguing with Damian. Dean glanced back at the group and edged closer to where Dick was standing with his back to everyone else--phone pressed to his ear, shoulders hunched a bit. Dean recognized that posture if nothing else; he’d been on the receiving end of John Winchester’s lectures enough to know exactly how Dick was feeling at the moment. Still. Dean eased even closer to Dick.

“...I know, Bruce, yeah. ...Of course I did! Do you think I’m an idiot?” There was a long pause as Bruce said something. He wasn’t yelling from what Dean could tell. At least, he couldn’t hear him at all over the speaker. But Dean also knew from experience that you didn’t need to yell to get across how very disappointed you were in someone.

Dick snorted and from the angle Dean couldn't be sure, but he thought he might’ve rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna let you handle that one, Bruce. Seems like a problem above my paygrade,”

Dean glanced back over at the others where Stephanie was currently frowning at Tim and had snarled something at him about her not being an idiot. Sam was currently playing referee between her and Tim, while Barbara gave them all a look that could set things on fire. He should probably be paying attention to what was going on, seeing how he was supposed to be going in to the Asylum with Jason. But…

“...You’re not telling me something,” Dick sounded almost angry, definitely tense. “I’m not nine years old anymore, Bruce, for God’s sake!” Dean definitely knew that feeling. John wasn’t always the most… forthright. He liked to keep things to himself more often than sharing information with either of his sons. It had always bothered Sam more than it had Dean, honestly, but it was certainly frustrating. Dean looked back at the others to find Barbara staring at him, one brow quirked, her lips pursed like she really wanted to say something. It was a familiar look and he could already hear her lecturing him.

“You wanna join the class, Winchester, or are you gonna keep trying eavesdrop on your boyfriend?”

He flushed and stepped away from Dick, glancing back at the tense set of his shoulders. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Barbara didn’t seem quite appeased, but she did turn back to the monitors, pulling up what looked like floorplans. “Like I was saying, Tim and I can get you two into Arkham’s systems as orderlies by tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, Tim and Dick are going in tonight to check things out. They’re not going to be able to do a complete sweep of the asylum, but I figured they could be on the lookout for any signs of… ghosts?” She looked from Sam to Dean with a bit of uncertainty. “Any suggestions for things they should be looking for?”

“Uh, common things with hauntings are cold spots… Weird electrical issues. Might be a good idea to bring an EMF reader so we can get a good idea of where the activity might be strongest…” Sam said, tilting his head in that way he did when he was thinking.

“So… pretty much issues Arkham has anyway,” Tim said. “The asylum is always cold, and no matter how many times they renovate the place, the wiring is shitty.”

“It’s also a very old building,” Sam said. “With a lot of violent history. It wouldn’t surprise me if the hospital had been haunted in some way for a long time, and this is just the first time the spirits are manifesting in a more… violent and tangible way.”

“And it would only be manifesting now, because…?” Damian asked, raising a brow.

Dean frowned. “Ghosts are usually tied down to something physical, something keeping them anchored here. It could’ve been trapped in a certain room, or spot. You guys said they recently renovated the hospital? That could’ve let it out. Knock down the right wall, break the right floorboards… Sometimes that’s all it takes for all Hell to break loose.”

Tim, for all his doubts, seemed to at least be paying close attention. “Okay. So cold spots, flickering lights… EMF… Which I’m assuming you guys have an EMF reader? Anything more… concrete we can be looking for?”

Sam glanced at Dean, frowning. “If it’s as angry as it seems, it’s possible there would ectoplasm. Spirits have to be really pissed to work up the energy to produce it, but when they do…”

“It means no one's gonna have a good time,” Dean finished darkly.

“Ectoplasm?” Stephanie snorted. “And you said you weren’t Ghostbusters.”

Dean scowled and opened his mouth to retort, but Sam plowed forward before he could even get a word out. “It’s usually black,” he said. “Thick. Cold to the touch. Look for it anywhere you notice the cold spots, or the wiring problems. It’s rare, but is one of the more solid examples of ghost activity, outside of actual sightings.”

“Alright,” Barbara nodded. “That’s something.” She looked at Jason and Dean, tapping her fingers on the armrest of her chair. “So Tim and Dick will go in tonight, try to get a better idea of what we might be dealing with, and then Dean and Jason are going to investigate. If it is a ghost how exactly are we going to fight that?”

“There’s a few simple things that work on angry spirits,” Dean said. “Salt. Iron. The big thing is, we need to find out who it is and we either burn their bones, or destroy whatever it is that’s anchoring them to the hospital.”

Stephanie blinked a few times, staring at him. “You… burn their bones ?”

“There’s a surprising amount of grave desecration involved in hunting ghosts,” Dean said.

“Burning their bodies usually cuts their ties to the physical world,” Sam told her. “Most effective way to destroy an angry spirit. If it doesn’t have anything to hold on to, it’ll evaporate.”

“Well, what’s one more crime to add to the list?” Jason joked, smirking a bit. He was being quieter, now, than he had been before. Dean wasn't sure what it was, but he’d been that way the previous night when they’d been down here. Bad memories maybe?

“Alright!” Dick’s voice suddenly rang out behind them and he clapped his hands together as he joined the rest of the group. “Where are we?”

“Ectoplasm and burning corpses,” Babs said matter-of-factly.

Dick stopped short and looked at Dean, lifting a brow. “Well. Okay then…”

“How’d Bruce take the news of our new help?” Tim asked curiously.

Dick frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, looking a bit frustrated. “He’ll live. Probably get the full lecture when he gets back, but that won’t be for another couple of days, so. Until then, we’re just gonna focus on Arkham and figuring out what’s going on there.”

Dean had a feeling Dick was angry about more than just Bruce’s disapproval of him bringing in strangers, but that was a conversation for later. Right now, they needed to focus on Arkham and prepare for whatever nightmare was waiting for them once they were inside of the hospital.

They finished fine-tuning their plan of attack, which was honestly not so much attack unfortunately for Dean and Jason, who both definitely would have preferred a much more proactive approach to the situation. But everyone else apparently thought it was better to play things cautiously and “intelligently” to start off with. Whatever it was had already killed several people, after all. Sam’s words, not Dean’s.

“So, you guys really do this… professionally?” Stephanie asked, cornering the two of them as they were heading back upstairs. Tim had business to take care of, apparently, and Dick and Barbara as well. Leading double lives seemed exhausting if you asked Dean.

“I… wouldn’t say professionally ,” Sam said. “But uh, we have been doing this since we were kids.”

“We’re the closest thing to professionals there is in our line of work,” Dean insisted.

“How does someone even get into… like, ghost hunting?” she asked. “Not exactly your everyday career choice.”

“Neither is being a vigilante,” Sam pointed out. Stephanie frowned and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, well. We’re talking about you guys right now,” she said, eyeing them stubbornly. “Not me.”

“It’s a long story,” Dean said.

“Our mom was killed by a demon,” Sam said, glancing at Dean. “And then our dad spent the rest of his life tracking down that demon. And along the way, he learned about a lot of other monsters out there and trained us to take ‘em down too.”

Stephanie was quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowed like she was thinking. “That’s… horrible.” she said quietly. “Christ. Doesn’t anyone in this house have a non -tragic backstory?”

Dean was almost tempted to ask her to elaborate on that. What were the others’ ‘tragic backstories’? But that was definitely too invasive a question to ask, and besides, he could probably guess the gist of most of them. He smirked and shrugged.

“Misery loves company, right?”

Stephanie snorted. “That it does,” she agreed. Something beeped suddenly and she glanced down at her watch. “Shit. I’m gonna be late for class.” She smiled at them, though it was still mostly a smirk. “Catch you guys later!” She raced out of the room and Sam and Dean followed behind her.

“I like these people,” Sam announced as they were stepping into the hallway.

Dean glanced at him, lifting a brow. “Yeah? Me too. Seem like a good bunch. Not too sure about the kid though…”

“Damian?” Sam frowned. “He, uh… kinda reminds me of you, actually.”

“What?”

“Only ten years old and he’s ready to go in guns blazing against a monster he doesn’t even know anything about yet? Yeah. Definitely you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Sammy… Did you see which way Dick went?”

Sam grinned then, eyes twinkling mischievously. “No clue. He headed back toward his room, I guess? Why? You feel a pressing need to go make-out with him again?”

Dean cringed and he could feel his face heating up. He spun to look his brother in the eye and stuttered through what he had definitely intended to be a very threatening speech. “No! Why--That’s not---Shut up!” He huffed and scrubbed a hand over his head. “I just need to talk to him about something. Christ.”

Sam’s smile softened. “Dude, you’ve got to loosen up. I’m cool, you’re cool. It’s not a big deal that you’re into guys, okay? You don’t need to freak out every time someone mentions it.”

Dean’s face was burning so hot now he was sure he was bright red. He turned away from Sam, waving his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah,” he called over his shoulder. “Go have your heartwarming chick-flick moment with someone else, okay? I don’t have time for your mushy crap.”

He heard Sam chuckle as he headed back down the hall to Dick’s room, hoping to find him there so he could ask him about that phone call.

Dick wasn’t in his bedroom, but Dean could hear his voice murmuring nearby and followed the sound of it a couple of doors down to what appeared to be an office. Dick had left the door open slightly and Dean peered inside, seeing him sitting at a desk with his back to him, phone pressed to his ear. The room reminded Dean strongly of Dick’s bedroom, posters scattered on the walls, a framed diploma, the desk cluttered with papers. Dean cleared his throat and tapped on the doorframe with his knuckles before entering.

Dick turned around and smiled at him, pulling the phone away from his mouth.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry for ditching you guys so fast. Had to make a call to my supervisor,” he nodded toward the phone and then turned his attention back to the call, offering whoever was on the other end a few assurances that he would most certainly be back at work the following Monday before hanging up. He spun his chair around fully to face Dean then. “Need something?”

“What’d you tell your boss about missing work?” Dean asked, curious.

“Family emergency,” Dick said, shrugging. “I took a couple of vacation days earlier anyway because Bruce was going out of town and he still isn’t too keen on leaving Damian alone. Tim’s lucky, he can work from the Manor most of the time so he doesn’t have to worry about this mundane shit.”

Dean snorted. “Right. Sounds rough, living two lives.”

Dick nodded, “I mean. Yeah, it’s a lot of juggling things around, but I’m also pretty used to it. Been doing it since I was a kid after all.”

That was certainly something Dean could relate to, even if he couldn’t quite relate to the double life thing.

“So, what’d, uh, Bruce have to say?” Dean asked, wandering around the room, studying the gymnastics trophies and photographs on the shelves. “You seemed kinda tense earlier.”

Dick frowned. “Not much. Bruce is a man of very few words, I’ll be honest.”

Dean raised a brow. He could understand how that could be frustrating; god knows John Winchester wasn’t exactly much of a talker either, but that still didn’t explain Dick’s anger. “He wasn’t upset?”

“Oh, he is definitely Not Happy,” Dick assured him. “But he’s in China, and I’m here so he can’t exactly do much about it. I expected that anyway. Bruce values his identity, and all of ours too. Not that I don’t get it, obviously, but… He tends to take it to its extreme.”

“He not trust your judgment or something?” Dean asked. “Is that why you were upset?”

Dick was still frowning. He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. If he didn’t trust me he wouldn’t have asked me to come here to keep an eye on things while he was gone. It’s just…” He sighed and rubbed his fingers along his thighs, fidgeting. “He seemed.... Not nearly as surprised as I would have expected when I told him who you guys were and what you do for a living.”

“What do you mean?” Now Dean was confused.

“You’ve never met Bruce, so you won’t really understand this, but the man’s basically omniscient. You can’t keep a secret from him. World’s Greatest Detective and all that jazz. But he’s not actually all-knowing, ya know? So I’m just wondering why, when I tell him Dean and Sam Winchester are here and they’re helping us take care of a supernatural problem at Arkham Asylum, why Bruce doesn’t question that more than he did…”

“Maybe he already knows about all this supernatural shit?” Dean suggested. It did seem odd though, that he wouldn’t question that. Tim, Stephanie and Babs all seemed pretty skeptical even if they were open-minded. And of course Damian definitely didn’t trust or believe them at their word.

Dick nodded. “Likely. But why not tell us about it? Why get defensive when I asked him about it?” He sighed. “He’s not telling me something , and I hate when he does that. Bruce likes to keep his secrets, but after all the shit that went down with Jason last year…” He shook his head. “You’d think the man would be more open with the people he calls family…”

Dean hesitated for a moment and stepped up to Dick, putting a hand on his shoulder. “He’s starting to sound a lot like my dad,” he said quietly. Talking about John was still one of the hardest things for Dean to do, and having some emotional moment was also pretty high up on the list, but Dick seemed so upset about Bruce keeping something from him that he couldn’t just leave him to suffer.

“Dad kept all kinds of info to himself,” Dean swallowed hard, remembering what John had told him right before he died. “It… It usually was because he wanted to protect us. Or he… thought he was protecting us, anyway.” And there was the anger Dean worked so hard to fight down. Because how could John keep so much to himself, how he could ask Dean to do the same? And how could Dean be angry at him when he knew why he did what he did? But god Dean was so angry at him sometimes…

Dick reached up and grasped his hand, pulling him back into the present. He squeezed his fingers and smiled slightly.

“Yeah, well. I’m not a child. None of us are. ...Except Damian. We’ve more than proven ourselves to him over and over again. He’s gotta stop ‘protecting’ us.”

Dean nodded. He could understand that. It sounded more like Sam than himself, but he still knew the feeling well.

“I hear you,” he said. “It sucks. But how ‘bout we focus on the murderous ghost for now, and deal with the daddy issues when he gets home?”

Dick scowled, but there was no real malice in the glare he shot Dean. “I do not have daddy issues!”

Snorting, Dean ruffled his hair. “Please. I’ve been here less than a day and I think all of you have some issues with the Bat.”

Dick swatted at his hand. “Got experience in that area, Dean?” he teased.

Dean frowned. “Okay, see, that’s what we’re not gonna talk about,”

Dick grinned at him and pulled himself out of the chair using Dean’s hand. He kissed him on the cheek and rolled his eyes when Dean blushed like a schoolgirl again.

“Fine,” he agreed. “No more talking about dads or father figures. Let’s go grab some lunch. After that, I wanna show you something before Tim and I head out for the night…”

Chapter Text

Jason and Sam were both seated at the island counter in the kitchen, with Damian nowhere in sight. They appeared to be in deep debate about something as Dean and Dick entered, and didn’t even notice the two of them at first. Dean immediately went to the massive refrigerator, looking around for anything to make a sandwich while listening to the two of them. He grabbed a loaf of bread that looked far too expensive, and lunch meat that was probably from some upscale deli, and threw them together.

“You’re telling me that you guys make it by with just sawed-off shotguns and handguns?” Jason seemed incredulous. “No grenade launchers? Assault rifles?”

Sam’s whole brow furrowed in like it did when he was exceptionally confused and maybe a bit worried about whatever risky scheme Dean had just suggested. “I mean… there are very few situations where we’d need a grenade launcher,” he said slowly. “Dad had a couple stashed away, but they were for special occasions.”

“Fighting demons should always be a special occasion,” Jason argued.

“Don’t really see too many demons out in the wild,” Dean cut in as he joined them at the counter. No plate, just his sandwich wrapped in a paper towel. Sam wrinkled his nose at him for that, but didn’t say anything. “Demons are pretty much Boss Level shit, ya know?”

“And we definitely don’t need assault rifles to take down angry ghosts. Shotgun shells packed with salt do the trick,” Sam added.

“What about other stuff?” Dick asked curiously. He didn’t bother to sit at one of the convenient stools, instead hopping up onto the counter next to Dean and swinging his legs. He’d only grabbed a glass of water and a couple of leftover cookies from the night before.

“Other stuff?” Dean asked around a mouthful of sandwich. That earned an actual glare from Sam and a light punch in the shoulder.

“Gross, dude,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you know. Like the vampires you and Jay killed the other night. Or, like, werewolves, or whatever other spooky shit you two hunt down.” Dick clarified around a mouthful of cookie, and Dean shot Sam a smirk that earned him another eyeroll. 

“Vampires you’ve gotta cut the head off of,” Dean said. “So, generally machetes are the weapon of choice. Though… we don’t really see those a lot either. In fact, up until recently we thought they were pretty much extinct.”

“Don’t forget the blood from dead people,” Jason reminded him. “We had to stop by a fucking morgue on our way to fight those monsters.” He told Dick, shuddering.

Dick raised a brow. “So corpse desecration is, like, run-of-the-mill for you guys,” he said.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “...pretty much, yeah. It’s probably like, eighty percent of the job.”

Jason whistled. “And you guys call me a psycho.”

“Well,” Dick said. “To be fair, they didn’t kill the people whose graves and bodies they’re defiling. ...Right?” He shot Dean and Sam a quizzical look.

Sam immediately shook his head. “No!” he said, maybe a little too quickly. “The only things we kill are the monsters. Right, Dean?” He nudged Dean in the ribs and Dean shrugged.

“I mean, yeah. But it’s not like I think what Jason’s doing is so bad, really. We’ve met a lot of humans who were just as bad as the monsters we hunt. Maybe worse.”

Sam scowled and crossed his arms. “Dean.” His voice was flat and annoyed. It rankled something in Dean and he flexed his fingers.

“What?” Dean frowned at him. “It’s true and you know it. Look, it’s not like I’m saying we should go out looking for people to kill. Just that it isn’t something I would say is totally unforgivable.”

Sam huffed at him and shook his head, turning his attention back to Dick. “We aren’t murderers,” he said. “We hunt monsters, not people .”

“Of course we’re not murderers!” Dean snapped, feeling frustration bubble up in his veins. “That’s not… You know what. Nevermind.” He shoved the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and grabbed Dick’s water to wash it down without thinking.

“You wanted to show me something?” he asked, turning sharply to Dick, who was watching the two of them with a mildly concerned expression. The room felt a little too hot at the moment, and Dean felt like he might be dangerously close to hitting his brother. He couldn’t really explain why , just that sometimes he wanted nothing but violence and blood to avoid actual conversations. Especially lately. 

“...Yeah,” Dick slowly nodded, hopping down from the counter. “This way…”

Dean followed him out of the room, avoiding looking back at Sam and his angry-slash-hurt-slash-worried expression. They’d probably have to have some ridiculous talk about this later, but Dean wasn’t really in the mood for that at the moment. He clenched his fists and flexed his fingers a few times, longing somehow for the feeling of flesh and bone crunching underneath them.

Dick was quiet as he led Dean back upstairs. Dean felt a weird pit forming in his stomach, and suddenly he worried that what he had said may have upset the other man. His brother was basically a serial killer, but maybe Dean coming out and pretty much saying he thought that was fine was a deal breaker? It wasn’t like Dean was all for just going out and killing every person who broke the law--he’d broken plenty of laws himself anyway, for the ‘greater good’. It was just… there genuinely, in his opinion, were people so evil and fucked up that it was probably better for everyone if they… weren’t alive anymore.

“Um,” he cleared his throat and reached out toward Dick, stopping short of actually grabbing his shoulder. Why was this anxiety suddenly welling up in him? He was always sure of his convictions. Always . Even if he couldn’t be sure of anything else in his life, he was sure of what he knew as right, and what was wrong.

“Listen, back there… I’m not… I wasn’t trying to say that I think murder is cool or anything,” Dean fumbled. “I just… I’ve seen some bad shit, ya know? And…”

“Dean,” Dick suddenly stopped and turned to face him. His face still seemed strangely blank and Dean swallowed heavily. 

“I get it. It’s… a complicated issue for you. It’s… complicated for me too. Because of Jason, and… other reasons. It’s probably something we’re going to have to sit down and actually talk about at some point, but for right now? Let’s just focus on what’s in front of us, okay?”

Nothing had ever sounded better to Dean than that. Sam would have wanted to sit and argue and pick things apart as long as possible. Dean was suddenly incredibly grateful that Dick was going to give them time and space to breathe before confronting the “are you okay with homicide” discussion. Which… normal people probably didn’t need to have this conversation at all, but when had Dean Winchester ever claimed to be normal?

“So… what was it you wanted to show me?” he asked, clearing his throat.

A wide grin spread over Dick’s face. “Almost there…” he said. “You’ll love it.” He spun around and led him further down the hall, stopping at the very end in front of a plain dark door. He swung it open and gestured with a wide flourish. 

“Welcome to our training room,” he said brightly.

Dean peered through the door and his eyes widened. The room was windowless and large, the floor covered with dark padding, and the walls similarly protected. There were boxing bags hanging from the ceiling, a clear space for what Dean assumed was sparring practice, and bars and posts set up around the perimeter of the space.

“The space downstairs is obviously more extravagant, but this is where we come to blow off steam and just sort of keep ourselves sharp.” Dick explained, smiling at Dean’s expression. “I figured maybe you’d want to check it out. ...Make use of it…” He arched a brow suggestively.

“You askin’ me if I want to spar with you?”

“Seems like a good idea. I want to see what you’re made of, Winchester.” Dick taunted him, throwing his arms wide. “What do ya say?”

Dean’s smile turned sharp. “I say you better be ready for a challenge, Grayson. I’m not holding anything back!”

They spent the better part of the afternoon in the training room. Dean felt pleasantly sore and at least some of the boiling rage had simmered down. They were pretty evenly matched, to Dean’s surprise. In his head, he knew Dick spent his nights being a ridiculous vigilante, but he’d never really seen him “in action”. It was an interesting experience. Dick moved like a cat, quick and sure and surprisingly strong. Where Dean felt more like a tank, not nearly as bendy as the other man was.

After the third or fourth time of Dick pinning Dean to the ground, Dean was out of breath and smiling. It felt oddly invigorating to spar with someone so evenly matched. He hadn’t had a chance to do this in years--Sam hadn’t sparred with him since they were teenagers. And even then it hadn’t really felt like this . Dick straddled his waist and circled Dean’s wrists, pinning them into the mat beneath them.

“What happened to that challenge you promised me, Winchester?” Dick teased.

Dean rolled his eyes, feeling his lips twitching as he fought not to grin. “Maybe after the first few times of knocking your ass down, I felt like throwing you a bone.”

Dick snorted at him. “Or maybe you just realized you liked me on top of you,” he said, leaning in closer. His face was so close to Dean’s that it wouldn’t have taken much effort at all to kiss him. His face heated and he swallowed heavily, looking away from the twinkle in Dick’s ridiculous eyes. Dick’s hips were resting right over his crotch and Dean’s jeans suddenly felt just a little bit too tight.

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right,” he managed to rasp, his throat feeling dry.

Dick’s smirk softened and he leaned back, tilting his head. “Feeling alright there?” he asked, his voice still light and teasing.

Dean glanced back at his face, getting lost a bit in his eyes. Those damn eyes, always pulling him in. He could swear it was supernatural. And it certainly wasn’t fair. His stomach twisted. Dick’s face was still close to his and his hair was hanging in his eyes, sticking to his forehead with sweat. Somehow it was a very appealing look. Dean flashed back for a moment to their first real kiss, the one where he kissed Dick, and once again his limbs seemed to move without his consent. He twisted his wrists out of Dick’s grip and grabbed him by the back of the neck, dragging his face down the last couple of inches and kissing him.

He could feel Dick smiling into the kiss, his body relaxing on top of him. It took a second or two, and then Dean felt Dick’s hands sliding around the back of his head, holding him still as he took control of the kiss. At first it was strange, and Dean wanted to wrest control back from him. Then Dick slid a thigh between his legs and heat burst through his body. He practically melted and heard himself moaning into Dick’s mouth.

Dick pulled back, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth wet and red. Dean gaped at him for a second, fighting the urge to yank him back down and keep kissing him forever. 

“We…" Dick was breathing more heavily than he had been when they were fighting. “We should… We should get back downstairs. It’s almost time for Tim and me to get ready for tonight…”

Dean blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. He nodded dumbly and started pushing himself up from the mat. “Y-Yeah…” He grabbed Dick’s offered hand as he practically sprang up from the ground, still ridiculously limber. His eyes still seemed to glitter.

“We can continue this… conversation, later,” he said.

Dean grunted, nodding again. Words were still hard and he had to adjust his jeans, trying to walk normally. As they headed out the door and back downstairs to see if the others were back yet, he was suddenly hit with the thought that everyone would know. They would take one look at them and know what had just happened. His stomach tightened and his chest felt strange. He focused on Dick’s back, trying to remember how to breathe, Sam’s words from earlier coming back to him. No one cared. No one was going to judge him. It was fine. His eyes trailed down from Dick’s back to his ass. 

Maybe more than fine.

Dean probably shouldn’t have been surprised how cold it was in the underground cave hidden beneath Wayne Manor, but he hadn’t really thought about it, and now he was standing with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Very pointedly not shivering. He had other things to worry about anyway. Or… not worry about, because he was also definitely not feeling like a knot of anxiety, standing behind Babs, and listening intently to the audio of Dick and Tim talking to fucking Killer Croc.

It wasn’t like this was Dick’s first rodeo. He’d been doing this since he was a child. Practically the same amount of time as Dean had been hunting monsters. And he was trained by Batman himself. Plus, he could hold his own against Dean, so he was totally fine , and there was no reason for Dean to feel so anxious. 

And yet…

He felt Sam side-eyeing him from his left. Stephanie hadn’t returned yet from what Dean assumed was college classes. Jason and Damian were in the background, Damian whispering something snide under his breath, still sore about not being there. Which, Dean still kind of wondered about. He was also painfully curious to see Damian in action--the kid talked such a big game, it would be interesting to have something to compare it to.

“You okay?” Sam asked, tilting his head in that puppy-dog-like way of his. It softened some of Dean’s anxiety, but only just.

“I’m fine. Just, ya know, they’re talking to a guy who freakin’ eats people right now, so… A little on edge.”

“They’ll be fine,” Barbara looked over her shoulder and smiled at him warmly. “They’ve done these sorts of interrogations hundreds of times. Don’t worry about them.”

“Yeah, worry about us, tomorrow,” Jason said. “We’re gonna be in there. And not for a quick chat and a look around, either. They’ve got worse than Croc locked up right now.”

“You aren’t scared are you, Todd?” Damian practically sneered.

Jason growled. “I’m not fucking scared,” he snapped. “I’m just trying to prepare Dean. He’s used to fighting monsters, not psychos.”

“I dunno, we’ve met our share of psychos,” Sam said, turning around to look at the two of them. “It’s not our usual gig, but it’s not like we’re totally inexperienced.”

“Yeah,” Dean smirked, glad for the distraction of conversation so that he didn’t have to focus entirely on Dick and Tim’s static-y voices through the audio recorder. “Sam got kidnapped by a family of crazy hillbillies.”

“Wait, seriously?” Jason asked. “Like Deliverance ?”

“More like The Most Dangerous Game ,” Sam said, sending Dean a narrow glare. “They were kidnapping people to hunt them for sport. It was pretty fucked up.”

“And they made a big mistake picking Sammy here,” Dean added. “He might look like a sad little puppy, but I raised my boy right. He can handle himself.”

Sam rolled his eyes at him and Jason snorted.

“I’ll give you that,” Jason said. “You two were pretty impressive the other night in the sewers.”

“Impressive, hmm?” Damian asked. “Maybe Grayson isn’t the only one letting his libido do the thinking for him.”

Jason scowled. “You’re such a child,” he muttered. 

“Will you two please stop,” Babs sighed, turning to give Jason and Damian a glare. “I’m trying to keep an ear out for Dick and Tim. This is still Arkham, and we have no idea what’s been killing people there. We need to be ready in case something does happen.”

That sent Dean’s anxiety back through the roof. Dick and Tim knew what they were doing, sure, but like Babs had said: this was Arkham Asylum. They had the most dangerous people in Gotham locked up in that hospital. It wasn’t safe, just because this wasn’t a new experience for them. Dean crossed his arms again, his fists clenching tightly. 

This sort of worry was new. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this way when his dad went out for a job alone. Sure, he was aware of the risks, and was always ready to go at the drop of a pin if John ever did get in a tight situation and needed help, but the anxiety had never clawed at him like this. Maybe for Sam it would but Sam didn’t exactly go out without Dean often, and Dean still felt pretty confident in his brother’s ability to hold his own. Even when the worry was there, Dean was usually not this concerned.

Was it really because this was Dick? Was it because this whole situation was new? Had he really fallen that hard, this fast? This was ridiculous. Dick was fine. He would come back tonight and he and Tim would report on what they’d found, and then tomorrow Jason and Dean would both go undercover and find this spirit. 

And then Dick and Dean would have to Talk.

Suddenly Dean was feeling a whole new kind of anxiety. One that was definitely, painfully, familiar.

Chapter Text

Stephanie came running in just as Dick and Tim were, from the sounds of it, wrapping up their “interrogation” with Killer Croc. Not that it was really much of an interrogation, considering that they already knew that a vampire nest had been responsible for the deaths in the city. Stephanie’s hair was thrown into a messy ponytail, and she looked a little wet from the rain outside.

“Did I miss anything?” she asked, wiping an arm over her brow and breathing a bit heavier from the way she had apparently run all the way down to the cave.

“Just the interrogation,” Barbara said. “They’re going to do a quick sweep of the building, see if any of the signs Sam and Dean mentioned are there.”

“Cool, so I didn’t miss the ghost hunting,” Stephanie grinned, showing teeth, and settled into a seat next to Barbara.

“Like it matters that much,” Jason said. “It’s not like we’ve got visuals right now. Just shitty audio.” He rolled his eyes. “Fucking Arkham, ruining even the Bat’s equipment.”

“Probably all the spooky ghosts,” Damian muttered, raising a brow at them.

Dean scowled at the kid. “It could be,” he said. “Ghosts can mess with electronics. That’s why we use EMF readers to see if it’s possible that an angry spirit could be in the area, and where it’s most likely to be.”

"Faulty wiring and old buildings do that anyway," Damian said. "I'll believe there are angry ghosts at Arkham when I see them."

"Nothing wrong with being skeptical," Sam said. "I get it. The supernatural isn't something that's easy to always see, and without proof it may as well be myths and stories."

Damian blinked a couple of times and nodded. "Exactly. The burden of proof is on you." He seemed to have been expecting an argument, but Sam had beaten Dean to responding, so he got Sam's rational, level-headed schtick instead of Dean's annoyed retort.

"Listen to you," Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest. "Talking almost civil-like to strangers." She smirked at the kid and Damian's scowl returned. 

"No one asked for your opinion, Brown."

Barbara sat back in her chair, shaking her head in annoyance. "When you children are done bickering, the adults are trying to do a job here." She motioned to the speaker, where Dick and Tim's quiet voices were coming through a bit more clearly now that they were heading away from the sewers where Croc was locked up.

"This place is freezing," Tim was saying. "You'd think they could have put in a better thermostat with all the renovations."

“Maybe it’s the ghost,” Dick said. Dean could hear the smile in his tone. Dick’s voice lowered a bit and it sounded like he was whispering right into his mic. “I think we should head towards the newer wing. They said the renovations might have triggered it. Probably the best place to start.”

“If this actually is some angry spirit, yeah,” Tim agreed. He still seemed unsure. Not that Dean could really blame him. Hell, even he knew there was every chance this was just one of the inmates, killing the others off and being very careful about it.

“Who’s in the new wing?” Stephanie asked, glancing over to Barbara. “Didn’t they move a bunch of patients around?”

“Yeah,” Babs nodded, sliding closer to the monitors and pulling up what looked like a roster of inmates from the asylum. “They moved the higher risk patients into the new wing. It has better security than the older sections.” Her eyes scanned the list. “Looks like they got Nygma in there, and the Joker…”

Jason made a strange noise and Dean glanced at him. He looked tense and his fists clenched. “Of course he’s there,” he muttered.

“They put Crane in the new wing, too,” Barbara continued after a short pause. “Seems like it’s all men. They moved the women to another section, one of the older sections.”

“What,” Stephanie snorted. “They think the women aren’t as high risk? Have they met Harley Quinn?”

Barbara smiled faintly. “At least they’ve got her on the other side of the hospital from the Joker this time,” she said.

“Always a good idea,” Jason said. “Don’t need those two nutcases feeding off of each other.”

“The EMF is picking something up…” Dick’s voice was still quiet as he and Tim explored the hospital.

“Could be electrical output,” Tim said. “They did try to beef up security in this area.”

Dick sighed, and the two of them fell silent for a while, only really speaking up to talk to them when they noticed anything that may have been signs of ghosts--a few places that seemed colder than normal, some flickering lights, the EMF going crazy a couple of times. There wasn’t anything definitive, but it was definitely enough circumstantial evidence to support the idea.

They kept the communication between them to a minimum, Babs only chiming in to clarify where they were and what they were seeing to compare to the blueprints she had. All in all, it was a helpful, but uneventful evening, and by the time Tim and Dick returned, Dean was once again itching to actually get into the asylum himself and see what was going on.

But that would have to wait until the next night.

Dick and Tim got back just after one in the morning, both of them with slightly damp hair from the rain outside. Stephanie had left around midnight, promising to be back the next afternoon. As soon as Dick and Tim got back, Damian only stayed around long enough to listen to their briefing of the visit, and then immediately went back upstairs. Dean figured the kid was still sore about not being allowed to go with them for the recon mission.

“Think we’re all set for tomorrow night,” Barbara said. “I’ve got Dean and Jason into the system as orderlies. I’ll have their security badges ready by the morning, and they’ll be good to go in around seven PM.”

“Perfect,” Jason said, standing from where he had been sitting behind Babs. “I’m itching to do something besides sitting around and planning shit.”

“You and me both,” Dean agreed.

“We literally just wiped out an entire vampire nest two nights ago,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “ Two nights ago . I’m ready for some action.”

"Well Arkham will probably give you plenty," Tim said. "The inmates were restless tonight. I could hear screaming from two cells blocks away."

"Yeah," Dick agreed. "I gotta say, the whole place felt kind of… off tonight. Maybe it was all in my head, but it had my skin crawling…"

“Haunted asylums will do that to ya,” Dean said.

“Or just… regular asylums full of murderous psychopaths,” Tim pointed out. 

“Fair point,” Sam agreed. “Either way, Arkham should be enough to keep you satisfied for a while, Dean.”

“Let’s hope…”

“Can you promise me something?” Dick asked as they got ready for bed. His brow was scrunched down over his eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed, frowning.

“Um…” Dean blinked a few times, nodding slowly. “Sure? Everything okay?”

“Just… something Tim said to me earlier. I’m worried about how Jason might handle… things.” Dick shifted and met Dean’s eyes, looking far too serious.

“The, uh, the Joker thing?” Dean asked.

“How’d ya guess?” Dick almost smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just… Can you promise me you won’t leave him alone in there? Especially not anywhere near the Joker? I’m not just worried about Jason getting hurt; I don’t… I don’t want him to do anything rash.”

Dean frowned. “Of course, yeah. Wasn’t planning on ditching him in the house full of crazies.” He paused and thought for a second before continuing. “You’re worried he’ll kill him, right? Or try to? Seems kind of counterproductive to me. Might be easier to just… be done with him. Right?”

Dick shook his head, shifting so that he was facing Dean more fully. “It’s more complicated than that,” he said. “The Joker is a monster, but…” He scrunched his face. “I don’t… I don’t necessarily agree with Bruce’s black-and-white view of murder, but. Things with Jason are different. There’s a lot of history there. I don’t want him to get hurt, or for things to get out of control in there. And with Jason, things tend to get out of control.”

The air felt heavier all of a sudden and Dean nodded. He didn’t really get why Jason killing someone like the Joker was a bad thing, but he didn’t need to understand that to at least understand that maybe murdering an inmate while they were undercover in an asylum would be a bad idea. The chances of getting caught aside, there was also the risk of the violence inciting some sort of riot among the other patients, and considering the fact that most of them were extremely dangerous psychopaths… Probably a good idea to avoid setting any of them off.

“Okay,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll have his back in there.”

Dick’s smile actually reached his eyes this time. “Thanks,” he said. “And just… remember if anything seems like it’s going sideways in there, we are literally one comm beep away.”

Dean smirked. “I think I can handle a little recon mission,” he said. “We’ve just got to figure out what’s killing people, and then kill it.”

“Unless it’s one of the patients,” Dick pointed out.

“...Right,” Dean said slowly. “Obviously then we’d just… leave and not do anything.”

Dick sighed, shaking his head. “You sound like Jason,” he said. “Not really inspiring confidence that you two aren’t going to start a prison riot tomorrow night.”

“C’mon, Dick,” Dean frowned. “We’ll be fine. I was joking. We’re not gonna run in there guns blazing and start murdering psychos. Don’t worry. We can handle this. I’ve been on far more dangerous jobs in my life than this one. Most of them before I was even legal, so.”

Dick still looked dubious, but he nodded. “I’m not doubting your capabilities,” he said. “But I am a little iffy on your self-control… Maybe putting you two together wasn’t the best idea…”

“If it wasn’t a good idea, Sam definitely would’ve bullied his way into the hospital with us,” Dean assured him. “My self-control is perfect, Dick. And me and Jason make a decent team. We worked well together before, and we’ll do fine in there. Nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe…” Dick sighed. “Just remember we’re all ready to play backup at any moment.”

“Won’t be necessary,” Dean said. “But thanks.”

Dick still didn’t seem too sure about that, but he didn’t argue any further. Dean would just have to show him tomorrow night. He and Jason were not violence-happy hot-heads. They could handle one simple mission. It might not have been his ideal job, but Dean was good at more than just killing monsters, and Jason might be a little more cavalier with human life, but doing what he did for a living definitely had to take some self-discipline. 

They would be fine.

The following night, just as the sky was starting to darken, Dean and Jason found themselves pulling up to the gates of Arkham Asylum. A cold shiver ran up Dean’s spine at the sight of the hospital beyond the imposing gates. Their new all-access key cards were slipped into their shirt pockets, feeling suddenly heavier than they had when Tim and Barbara had handed them over while they were getting ready.

“You know,” Jason said, “sometimes I think I’m gonna walk through those doors and not be able to come back out.”

Dean glanced over at him, raising a brow. “Well not this time,” he said. “I’ll drag your ass out of here when we leave if I’ve got to.”

Jason snorted as they made their way to the entrance. “Dick was right though,” he said. “This place does feel more off than usual.” He was frowning, tense and holding himself more stiffly than Dean had seen him so far. Considering that the man who had killed him was somewhere in the building, Dean guessed he couldn’t really blame him. He was definitely not going to let Jason out of his sight. 

They stepped out of the car and hesitated at the entrance.

“Well,” Dean said, steeling himself. The sensation of being watched, of something cold sliding into his veins, got stronger the closer they got to the building. “Now or never.” Funny, he’d been so eager to finally be back in the field, but now he felt a sense of creeping dread that he wasn’t really used to. 

Jason’s smile was sarcastic and he pushed the front doors open, leading the way inside. “Let’s hope we don’t get locked up here with the rest of the crazies…”

They’d been put in the system as security guards… glorified babysitters, more like it. They were given standard issue tasers and not much else in the way of weapons. Not that they both weren’t hiding their own small arsenals on them anyway, but seriously. How did these people expect a guard at Arkham to do anything with just a taser for protection?

The exhausted looking woman at the front had told them their first assigned babysitting task was in the women’s wing, which was on the opposite side of the hospital from where they needed to be, but once it was time for lights out they were told they would be making rounds over the whole hospital, switching wings once on the hour. It would give them a chance to get around the entire hospital, or most of it. It was their best chance at finding out what was going on.

As he and Jason made their way into the recreation area where the women were currently supposed to be doing evening “crafts” or something, Dean wondered how they kept up with the patients when they’d only passed two other guards and a couple of orderlies.

“Does this place just not have security?” He muttered to Jason, frowning.

Jason snorted. “If Arkham had good security, I’d be out of a job.” He said. “The place is mostly government funded. And you know how the government feels about criminals with mental illness…”

Dean shook his head, bewildered. No wonder Gotham had a problem with psychopaths. With places like this being the only thing standing between them and freedom, it was a miracle the city was still standing.

He and Jason came to a stop in front of an open set of double doors, and that feeling of being watched seemed to increase as they looked at the inmates.

The room was plain white, though the painted bricks looked more yellow than white thanks to their age. Dean figured the newer sections of the hospital had to at least look more updated than this place. It was filled with several haphazardly spaced tables with folding chairs, the women all spaced out in the room while a few doctors circled them, speaking in hushed tones as they observed whatever it was the women were doing--drawing it seemed.

Dean tilted his head, counting the women scattered around the room in their white Arkham-issued jumpsuits. “Thought there’d be more of them,” he half-whispered, glancing to Jason, who was watching the women with narrowed eyes. 

“Don’t let their small numbers fool you,” Jason said. “Most of the women in this room could kill you without blinking.”

As they were talking, one of the women, a blonde who had her hair tied up in pigtails, looked up at them from where she was seated next to a red-headed woman. Her eyes were electric and she grinned wide upon spotting them.

“Oooh! New guards!” She practically squealed. “And so handsome! We needed some new blood in here!” She went to jump from her seat, apparently eager to run over to them, when one of the doctors turned toward her sharply.

“Stay seated, Miss Quinzel,” she said. “Art doesn’t end for twenty more minutes.”

The woman made an exaggerated pout and the redhead next to her put a hand on her wrist, saying something to her quietly. The blonde sighed dramatically and went back to whatever it was she was drawing. From where Dean was standing all he could see was a lot of bright red splotches.

“That’s Harley Quinn,” Jason whispered to him, his voice hoarse. “The Joker’s girlfriend.” He was standing stiff as a board, his eyes narrowed in her direction. “The redhead next to her is Pamela Isley, better known as Poison Ivy.”

Dean studied the two women more closely. They didn’t look like much, at least not like they could be much of a threat. But he knew enough about the Joker and his girlfriend to know not to underestimate the blonde. And Poison Ivy was just as dangerous if the stories he’d heard were even half true. 

“Steer clear of the psycho murdering women,” Dean nodded. “Got it.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “We should probably try to talk to them,” he said. “They might know something, or have seen something.” He hesitated. “But I think we should definitely not talk to Quinn. She’s not known for being… helpful.”

Dean looked over at the two women again, and found Harley’s eyes on them, bright and interested. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know what her interest would manifest itself as, and quickly looked away.

They didn’t manage to get any useful information out of any of the women patients. Not before lights out, anyway. It had started to storm outside, causing the lights to flicker. It set Dean on edge, the hairs on his arms standing on end. As he and Jason did their first round through the women’s wing, making sure that all heads were accounted for before the lights were turned off for the night, he got that creeping feeling up his spine again, like something was watching them.

As they passed Quinn’s cell, the blonde was right at the door, smiling at them through the bars on the window. 

“You should be in bed,” Jason said roughly. His fingers twitched like he wanted to make a fist, but he stopped himself, instead glaring at the woman.

“You two are new,” she said, unfazed by Jason’s hostility. “I certainly don’t recognize you.” She eyed them up and down, her gaze flickering to Dean. “I’d remember a face like yours, cutie.”

“Bed,” Jason said, harsher than before. “Lights go out in one minute.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Harley pouted at them. “Can’t I make conversation for one little minute? Who’s it gonna hurt, huh?”

“It might hurt you if you’re not in bed by lights out,” Jason was practically growling now, and Dean stepped up, hoping to intervene before something went very wrong.

“Listen, ma’am,” he said, trying to go for the whole good-cop-bad-cop thing, “it’s best you get in bed before you get yourself in trouble.”

“You guys ever been prison guards before?” she asked, still ignoring Jason’s aggression and not even bothering to acknowledge Dean at all.

Jason cocked his head to the side, stepping closer to the door. “Why?”

“Just curious,” she grinned, a small giggle escaping her lips. “Big storm tonight, all this bad weather. None of us have had outdoor time all week.” She paused, tilting her head like a puppy, pigtails falling to the side. “Some of the people in here get… restless.”

Dean frowned then. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Lights out!” The head of the ward suddenly called from the end of the hall. “Get to bed, ladies!” The lights flickered out entirely, leaving Dean and Jason standing in front of Harley’s cell in the dark.

Harley’s face was just visible through the slats in her door’s window. “Oops. Gotta go to bed, boys. Wouldn’t wanna get in trouble.” She slid away from the door quickly. “See ya later.”

Jason’s jaw clenched and he looked like he wanted to bang on the door and demand answers, but the head of the ward called down to them, demanding their headcount, and they both reluctantly turned away from her cell and headed back to the guard's station.

It was a mostly uneventful night so far. Though, Harley was definitely right about the inmates being restless, nothing too out of the ordinary happened. Not at first anyway. It was midnight when he and Jason were set to do their rounds in the newest wing of the hospital, the one with the beefed up security and all the inmates deemed the most “dangerous” or likely to escape.

Right away, Dean was happy to see that security was better there. Automatic locking doors, multiple checkpoints, and guards stationed more frequently. It wasn’t perfect, but better than the women’s wing and the other parts of the hospital that he and Jason had been to thus far. 

It was also down near the basement, and freezing cold. He shivered, this time more from the temperature than the weird feeling he’d gotten when they first arrived at the hospital. He and Jason were doing their headcount of their assigned section, keeping an eye out for any anomalies. Aside from the occasional light flicker and the cold, there wasn’t much. At this rate Dean was worried that they would have to come back another night or two to finish this job.

Few of the people in this block seemed to be sleeping. Most of them watched Dean and Jason with sharp eyes as they passed through, sitting up on their beds. So far none of them had spoken to either of them, and Dean was grateful for that. After that conversation with Harley, Dean wasn't too keen on talking to many more Arkham patients. They’d stuck mostly to interrogating the staff in between rounds, trying not to make it too obvious that they were probing for information. None of the staff had seen anything of note, but most of them were uneasy and seemed particularly anxious about the death of Fred Daily.

As creepy as everything here was, Dean thought the night was going by fairly smoothly. That is, until they passed in front of the Joker’s cell. 

Of course the man wasn’t asleep. He appeared wide awake, sitting up in bed. He looked almost like a ghost himself--eerily pale, his eyes dark and almost sunken into his skull. His hair was a greasy shade of green, his teeth yellow as he smiled at them when they peered in to check his cell for headcount. He tilted his head and his eyes glittered in the faint light from the windows outside in the hall. His gaze trained on Jason immediately and his grin widened.

“Oh, new guards tonight,” he said, his voice high and breathless. “What a treat!”

“Go to sleep,” Dean cut in before Jason could say or do anything, remembering Dick’s words from the night before. “It’s way past lights out.”

“Can’t sleep,” the Joker said, standing from the bed. He made his way over the door, lacing his fingers through the slats on the bars. “I get… night terrors. Ever had night terrors, boys?”

“No,” Jason ground the word out between his teeth. “Get back to bed, inmate. Now.”

The Joker just grinned at him, tilting his head in a way similar to what Harley had done earlier. “Don’t I know you?” He asked quietly. “You seem awfully familiar.”

Jason’s fingers twitched again and he curled them into fists at his side, his knuckles going white. Dean put a hand on his shoulder and tried to pull him away from the door. “Get back to bed,” he said sternly. The Joker ignored him, still grinning at Jason. Jason was pale and his jaw was tight as he stared back into the man’s black eyes.

Jason opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and Dean was sure that whatever it was would probably be a bad idea. But before he could get the words out, the outside lights shut off completely, leaving them in pitch darkness for a moment before the red emergency lights flashed on and an alarm started ringing.

“Oh!” The Joker grinned wider, his face lit up horrifyingly in the red glow. “Wonder what that could be?” He laughed and the sound chilled Dean to the bone. “You should probably check it out.”

Dean gripped Jason’s shoulder hard and tugged him away from the door. “C’mon,” he said, half-running toward the guard’s station. Jason reluctantly turned away from the door and finally followed Dean.

“He knows something,” he said. “We need to talk to him.”

“Later,” Dean said. “Right now we’ve got--” before he could finish the sentence, the door at the end of the cell block--the final checkpoint out into the actual hall and toward the guard’s station--slammed closed. It’s red emergency lights blinked off and on and the siren continued blaring in the background.

“What the fuck?”

He reached for his keycard to swipe when something hit the glass of the door and Dean reared back, eyes wide. Blood stained the bulletproof glass and Dean felt his heart skip a beat as he and Jason moved to look into the hall, where the head of guards for this section lay crumpled at the base of the door, head smashed in. Dead.

“Fuck!” Jason swore, moving to try and open the door with his keycard. It didn’t work, the light stayed red. He slammed into the door, trying to force it open and it didn’t budge. They were locked in.

Down the hall, they could hear the Joker’s laugh pick up in volume, echoing above the sound of the alarm.

Chapter Text

Asylum doors stand open! Fill the sewers with murder and rape! Divine Madness! Let there be ecstasy, ecstasy in the streets! Laugh and the world laughs with you!

—The Joker, Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth

“Fuck!” Jason shouted, slamming a hand against the glass of the dividing door. The Joker’s laughter was still bouncing off the walls, echoing down the empty hall. Jason spun around and stalked toward the clown's cell, a murderous look in his eyes. Dean hurried after him, already reaching for the comm Dick had given him before they left, anxiously trying to contact the others.

“You know something about this!” Jason half-snarled as they came to a stop in front of the Joker’s cell. The Joker was still standing at the bars, grinning widely at them. The emergency lights reflected off of his dark eyes, making him look almost like a demon standing in the darkness. Dean felt another chill run down his spine.

“Who, me?” the Joker’s brow twitched and he giggled. “I’ve been a little tied up, boys. How would I know what’s happening? Maybe it’s the ghost!”

Jason nearly punched the bars, only stopping himself at the last moment, shaking the bars on the door and glaring at the other man. “Bullshit. You know something.”

The Joker just grinned back at him, not even flinching back from Jason’s obvious hostility. 

The comm cackled in Dean’s ear and he remembered their poor connection from the previous night. Now was not the time for things to stop working.

“--ean. Can you hear me?” Dick’s voice suddenly broke through the static on the other end and Dean paced a few steps away from the Joker’s cell, keeping his eyes locked on Jason in case things escalated any further than they already had.

“Yeah, uh… We’ve got a problem.” Dean said. “Power’s out. Looks like the hospital’s on lockdown.”

“Must’ve been the storm,” Tim replied. “Generators might take a bit to kick in. Everything alright?”

“No.” Dean kept his voice low, trying not to let any of the inmates overhear him. But Jason looked tense and ready to kill something--someone--so he didn’t want to stay away from his side for too long. “Head of the guards for the new wing is dead. We didn’t see what happened, but he’s got a hell of a bump on his head.”

There were multiple voices swearing and cursing then. “Are there any inmates unaccounted for?” Barabara asked, worry lacing her tone. “Could it have been one of them?”

“None in this cellblock,” Dean said. “But I don’t know about anywhere else.” His eyes trailed back to the door, where the guard’s blood was smeared over the glass. “It doesn’t look like something a person could’ve done. Maybe.”

"We need to get them out of there," Sam’s voice sounded a bit farther away.

Dean frowned. "No way; we ain't leaving until we find whatever just killed that guard! We came here to do a job and I intend to finish it!"

"Lockdown could be an advantage," Tim said. "Once the generators kick in, the locks should be functional. Everyone will be focused on making sure the cells stay locked, so you two can look for whoever, or whatever, killed the guard."

"That's only if the lockdown was because of the power outage," Jason was suddenly beside Dean, scowling.

“You good, man?” he asked.

Jason’s jaw was tight, but he nodded stiffly. “Be better once we get out of this shithole,” he said. He glanced back toward where the Joker was watching them with bright eyes through the slats on his cell door. Dean couldn’t help but agree. That feeling of cold dread was back and creeping up his spine. As much as he wanted to see some action and get his blood pumping again, Arkham was seeming less and less like that place he wanted that to happen.

“Do we need to send in backup?” Dick asked.

“No,” Jason said before Dean could answer. “We’ll be fine.”

“We’re good. Just… if we lose contact suddenly…” Dean trailed off. “Just keep an ear out, yeah?”

“Duh,” Dean could almost hear Sam rolling his eyes at him. “You two just don’t do anything stupid.”

Dean snorted. “Who me?” Sam’s silence was unimpressed.

“Looks like we’re just playing a waiting game,” Jason muttered. “Leave it to Arkham to have the world’s crappiest generators. Who needs power in a high security prison for insane murderers anyway?”

Dean shrugged and started to reply when he noticed Jason’s breath was visible in the hall now. He frowned. “It get cold all of a sudden?” he asked, looking around the hall.

Most of the inmates were no longer asleep, peering eagerly through the bars. The energy had shifted, the air feeling thick and tense as Dean looked around. Jason made a face and breathed out heavily, watching his breath fog up the air around them.

“The fuck?”

“I think it’s a pretty safe bet something supernatural is happening,” Dean said, his breath dissipating in a small cloud in front of him. He scanned the wide hall, trying to see if anything stood out. If the temperature was dropping that quickly, something had to be nearby. His eyes settled on a cell at the end of the hall, the red lights swinging past it and showing the cell door slightly cracked open. He frowned and motioned for Jason to follow him.

He could definitely feel the change in temperature as they approached it. The air was practically frigid. He was almost surprised he didn’t see ice forming on the walls nearby. The cell was completely empty, no sign of an occupant having recently vacated the room. Dean glanced in the cells adjoining it. On either side the cells were empty, but their doors were still shut, and a quick test of the bars showed them securely locked.

“Looks like they haven’t gotten around to filling these,” Jason said, squinting into the dark cell.  

“Yeah, but why’s this one open?” Dean muttered. He pushed the door open further and stepped inside. He immediately shivered. It was freezing. Jason followed closely behind him, eyes scanning the cell suspiciously.

“Damn, this place could hold Freeze,” he half-whispered.  

Dean was only half listening, looking for anything that might show them that an angry spirit had been there. The cot was bare, just a thin sheet and pillow, no posters on the walls. The mirror was almost totally covered in frost though, and he stepped toward it, reaching a hand out to swipe through the ice with his finger.  

“Um…” Jason hesitated a second and reached over him, pointing to the tap on the small sink. “What… is that?” He stopped just short of actually touching the black, tar-like liquid that was dripping from the facet.  

“Shit,” Dean scowled. “Ectoplasm.”

“…Ectoplasm,” Jason eyed the goo with a wary expression. “Didn’t you say something the other day about ghosts needing to be extra pissed to make this stuff?”

“Yeah,” Dean turned away from the sink, looking the whole cell over. “Last time me and Sam saw this, it was the ghost of H.H. Holmes…”

Jason stared at him with wide eyes. “The serial killer?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Turns out, not a great guy even when he was dead. Whatever was binding this ghost must’ve been in this cell, or… whatever the cell was before the renovation.” He knelt next to the cot and looked around, searching for anything obvious that might point them to the identity of the ghost if nothing else.

“Hey, Babs?” Jason tapped on the comm, watching Dean search. “You guys have the floorplans from before the renovations?”

“Um…” They could hear keys clacking in the background. “Not at the moment, but it shouldn’t take too long to get them. One sec… Why?”

“Pretty sure we’re dealing with one hell of a worked-up spirit,” Dean answered. “Found ectoplasm in one of the cells in the new wing.”

“Couple doors down from the Joker,” Jason said. “If that helps any.”

“Alright, we’ll start searching through the old floor plans. Maybe see if anything sticks out.” Tim’s voice cackled over the speakers.  

“Have you guys noticed anything else?” Sam asked. “Seen anything?”

“Nothing except this,” Dean said. “We’ll keep you posted.”

He cut the comm off and moved toward the bed, thinking maybe something could be hidden under it. He shook the cot, trying to get it to move. It was bolted to the ground, which probably made sense, but didn't help him a whole lot in that moment. He leaned over and looked underneath, scanning the bottom of the cot and the ground below it. He spotted one of the tiles lifting slightly where it met the wall and grinned. "Bingo," He whispered, falling to his knees to get closer.

“Give me a hand,” he said over his shoulder. “Shine your light down here.” He scooted further under the cot. It was so low to the ground he barely fit. Jason moved closer and flicked on his flashlight, pointing it down the small space between the cot and the wall.  

“What’ve you got?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Dean grunted as he squeezed himself further under the cot and finally managed to reach the tile. He twisted slightly and grabbed the end that was peeling up and away from the wall. It lifted with a little effort and a rotten smell hit him directly in the face. It was definitely blood. He coughed and turned his head away.

“Shit,” he wheezed. Pulling himself out from under the cot slowly. “Something happened here, for sure.” He leaned against the bed for a moment and glanced up at Jason, who was stowing his light away.

“Enough blood to at least leave a smell,” he told him.

Jason frowned. “A smell? This place was renovated months ago.”

He nodded. “Exactly. Something’s going on.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the cell door slammed shut and the red light outside went dark. Dean was on his feet in an instant as Jason spun to grab the door. It wouldn’t budge, locked firmly in place.  

“What the fuck?” Jason rattled the door, trying his best to wrench it completely off its hinges. 

The temperature took another nosedive and they found themselves shivering. Whatever spirit they were dealing with, it was powerful, and it was close. In the darkness they could barely make out the shadows in the hall, but they could hear the inmates, whooping and yelling. The air was thick with a sense of anticipation and dread, like the moment right before a grenade went off.

Dean glanced at Jason and found the other man staring back with an expression of uncertainty and panic that he was sure mirrored his own.

Something was very wrong.  

There was a loud creaking noise and then a crash and all of the cell doors—aside from the one Dean and Jason were currently stuck in—swung open violently, banging against the concrete walls hard enough to dent some of them.

The Joker’s laugh was echoing over every other noise in the hall, and it seemed to ring in Dean's ears. The next thing they knew, the clown's face was pressed into the bars on the door, a manic grin on his face. Somehow, he’d acquired a knife and he was holding it tightly in one hand.

Jason jerked forward and Dean just barely caught his elbow before the other man could slam into the bars. His lips pulled back in a snarl as he yanked his arm free from Dean’s grip. The Joker eyed them gleefully, a terrifyingly knowing look on his face. 

“Well, boys. Looks like the shoe’s on the other foot now,” he laughed. His eyes glittered in the darkness. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon!”

Before either of them could respond, he spun away from the cell and led what sounded like the entire cell block down to the end of the hallway, where apparently the once locked entry door had also slammed open as they heard them stampede out. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jason jammed his finger on the comm. “C’mon, someone fucking respond!”

They heard nothing but static for nearly a full minute before giving up.

“Shit,” Dean breathed heavily. “I think we’re on our own…”