Hello Everyone. So, this is a little (well, it might be kind of long) story that was invented/thrown around by me and my friends. We had the idea to come up with a TV show with heavy influence on the Batfamily. This is obviously not a TV show, and I know it probably won't be, but I thought it would be fun to post it. As it was originally a "show" it's kind of dialogue heavy, but a lot of fanfictions are. This will pull information/lore/ideas from all types of places: comics, movies, tv shows, etc. Basically, anything batman is fair game, even what is non-cannon. Also, it involved other DC characters who will make appearances from time to time. I also have a few OCs, or at least characters who I have changed beyond the point of recognition, but not any of the main ones. For example, in the comics for a short time, before Stephanie Brown, Tim was dating a girl named Ariana. I kinda like the idea of a batkid being close/dating someone not in the know, so I took her and made her into someone pretty different. Honestly though, besides the very basics she's a completely different person, she even comes in at a different time in the timeline (don't worry Stephanie fans!) If using OCs annoys you that's fine, just giving you the heads up.

Anyway, rambling is done. I do not own Batman or its related characters, nor any other characters. They all belong to DC. Please rate and review!

Dick Grayson's apartment. Early in the morning.

Dick Grayson groaned and turned over in his bed. He slammed a palm against the alarm clock on his bedside table. He wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes and spend all day in the comfort of his bed. He couldn't though; he had to go to work, and he'd have to face Bruce eventually, so he might as well make to the lunch-break meeting they decided on the night before.

Bruce was mad. Dick had known the man long enough to be able to he was angry. Bruce was his mentor, his partner, and - dare he say it - his father. Though, if yesterday was any indication, Dick wouldn't be suprised to find out Bruce no longer considered him family.

Bruce. It was all his fault. He had no right to be angry at Dick - what was he suppose to do?

Dick threw off his covers and jumped onto the floor. He was ready to tear off his pajamas, when he realized he wasn't in them. He still had on that black batsuit - not the real batsuit, of course. The one worn by who people referred to as "the New Batman." Dick was muscular enough, but he was much more slender than Bruce. He was shorter, too. It was obvious people would know he wasn't the same Batman. Most people were even able to guess that he was the first Robin and the only Nightwing, having taken on a new suit.

They had to have known something happened to Batman, and probably thought something had happened to Robin, too, since the new one was clearly younger than the previous. Dick didn't bother reading the newspapers for their theories. He had even banned Damian from them, once he realized he was trying to keep tabs on Tim. Dick would not allow that; Tim was the one who decided to run off, and he wasn't going to be giving Damian any ideas. That kid was messed up enough, the last thing Dick needed was him running off and playing hero unsupervised too.

Dick shed off the Batman suit, which clung to him as if a second skin. He threw it into a pile at the corner of his room. He probably should find a better spot for it, but it didn't matter anymore. No one would see it there, and he wasn't Batman anymore.

He put on his police uniform as quickly as he could. He was already running late, having spent too much time brooding in bed. Brooding - that was Bruce's job. It was the batsuit that did that, apparently. He was becoming Bruce, even though he promised he wouldn't make the same mistakes he did. He had made one enough on his own.

Dick left his apartment and practically ran to the Bludhaven Police Department. It was the first time in a long time he was able to walk to work, and the first time he didn't have to drive all the way through Gotham and Bludhaven.

He entered, and heard some of the other officers snickering. They all believed he was watching his younger brothers while Bruce way away on some foreign vacation and charity trip. Dick had made all the excuses: he was working on some important business. Bruce was building houses and feeding children. He would not be back for a long time and no, Dick wasn't completely certain when he'd return.

Since Dick had been staying in Gotham, he hadn't made it to work on time without running through the door, red faced and sweaty. All the other officers had decided that handling two younger boys was too much for him, and they practically drove him crazy everyday with the stress.

They had no idea.

"Had a hard time with your brothers this morning?" One of his co-workers laughed.

"No, Bruce came back last night."

"What?"

Dick smiled, for the first time in nearly twelve hours. "Don't worry, I'll be back to normal tomorrow."

His friend shrugged and turned back to his paperwork. Dick felt his phone vibrate, and he grabbed it.

It was from Wally, his best friend. It was a picture of the front page of today's Daily Planet. There was a picture on the front of Bruce, in his costume, standing on a rooftop in Gotham, with the batsignal clear in the background. An impressive shot, actually, and Dick wondered what lowlife paparazzi was scouring the criminal side of Gotham just for a picture he could sell. The heading read "Batman Returns?" Beneath the picture was Wally's own text, has Clark gone crazy or...?

Dick didn't answer him and practically threw his phone down on his desk. He wanted Bruce to be furthest thing from his mind.

...

Jason and Roy's apartment, around the same time.

Roy Harper sat back in his armchair, legs stretched out and feet resting on the coffee table. He had the newspaper that he bought with the only intention of annoying Jason. He had no other reason to buy The Daily Planet, it certainly wasn't to support Superman. He crinkled it loudly and pretended to read.

"So," he said after a moment, "looks like big bad daddy Bats is back, huh? Good thing you didn't actually kill that little brat, huh? Bet he wouldn't be too happy about that. Don't be upset though, just because he's better than you and all. You're still my favorite Robin."

There was no answer. Roy looked up from the paper. The living room was silent, but he knew Jason was here a minute ago. "Jay?" he called. He heard footsteps behind him, then the front door of their apartment open. Roy spun around in his chair. Jason was standing there, a sweatshirt hood pulled up over his head. "Jason?"

The door slammed shut, and Jason was gone.

...

Wayne Household, before school.

"More coffee, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, the half-full coffee put raised in the air. Bruce nodded his head, keeping his attention on the newspaper in front of him. He didn't read The Daily Planet - Metropolis news did not concern him usually, but Clark had sent him a picture of the front-page story. He knew it was Clark's job to write about vigilantes, but how stupid could that guy get? If he wanted to broadcast all the news he could about Superman, fine, but don't bring Batman into it. Bruce wondered who else had seen it - enemies? Friends?

In the end, it didn't matter who knew Batman had returned to Gotham - the real Batman, not just Nightwing playing dress-up. All Bruce cared about was he was home, and it was good to be home.

"Father!" A voice called from upstairs. "Father! I demand you come up here this instance!"

Alfred didn't laugh, but Bruce caught the humor in his usual cheerful voice. "Master Bruce, aren't you glad you decided to return for the first day of this school year?"

Bruce put his paper down and rolled his eyes. Of course, there was always some trouble. Having a teenager and an almost-teenager in the house was enough to ensure that. He'd have to apologize to Dick about that - suddenly turning from brother to parent would be difficult for anyone, but with Tim and Damian, who acted like they were ready to kill each other most days, he was sure it was almost impossible. But Dick made it through it without killing himself or either of them, so he'd congratulate him for that, after he yelled at Dick for everything he did wrong.

Damian came stomping down the stairs. He was dressed in his white button-up and dress pants, most of his school uniform. He held a long piece of cloth in his left fist. He held it as far away from his body as he could, as if worried it would burn him. "Father, what is this?'

"It's a tie, Damian," Bruce said, trying his best to keep his patience.

"And why did you put it on my bed this morning?"

"I put it there, Master Damian," Alfred cut in, as level-headed as ever. "It is a part of your school uniform."

Damian crossed his arms and put his bottom lip out, in an annoyed pout that Alfred and Bruce had long learned to ignore. "My old school didn't make me wear one of these. I don't like it."

"You'll get used to it, Young Master. Let me tie it for you,"

"No," Damian argued, even as he handed it to Alfred. Even for him, it was too early for a fight. "I could put it on myself, I just refuse to. I despise ties, they make people look like fools. Like Drake."

Bruce stood, bringing his coffee mug with him. "Where is Tim? He's usually down here by now."

"Probably ran off again," Damian snarled, "good riddance."

Alfred tugged tightly at Damian's tie, making him flinch. Bruce walked to the foot of the stairs and yelled up. "Timothy Drake, hurry up! You're going to be late for school!"

"All done, Master Damian, and may I say you don't look foolish at all. You look handsome, just as all your brothers in that uniform.'

"I have no brothers," Damian mumbled. Bruce turned around.

He wanted to say something, but decided it against it. Damian was difficult, he knew that. Bruce just got back though, and he wasn't ready to get angry with him, yet. "Tim!"

Tim hurried down the hall and the stairs. He was in his full uniform, and even despite the late summer heat he had a school sweater slung over his shoulder. "Sorry. That filthy mutt stole my socks and pants." Tim said, nodding toward Damian. "I couldn't find them right away."

Damian smirked, "Ace didn't steal anything from you, Drake," He tilted his chin up in a look of pride, "I did."

"Yeah, I know," Tim said.

"Alright, alright, enough of that. Get in the car, I'll take you guys to school," Bruce said.

Tim laughed. "You're driving? Bruce, do you even know where the school is? Alfred always takes us."

"I know exactly where it is, and yes, I'll be taking you."

"I call the front seat!" Damian called, running toward the door.

Bruce followed after him. Tim lagged behind slightly, looking back up the stairs. Alfred noticed, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Master Timothy, is everything alright? Have you forgotten something?"

Tim shook his head, "No, I was just thinking about something."

Alfred nodded. "Well, hurry along then. You don't want to be late."

Tim nodded and headed for the door. Alfred smiled after him. Both of the kids would be better off now, since Bruce was back. He knew how hard his "death" was for the two of them. It was hard for him, too. Alfred knew Bruce had been alive and well, but wasn't allowed to say anything. Alfred frowned. It was probably just as hard for Dick as it was for him. Maybe worse. At least Alfred had been a bit of a parental figure when Bruce was around, and he had watched the kids alone and acted as a father in the past. But not Dick. Dick was always the older brother.

Alfred sat himself at the kitchen table. He wouldn't admit it, but he was relieved when Bruce said he'd bring the boys to school. With Bruce gone, and the kids home for the summer, his hands had been full. Even a short time alone was a relief for him. He poured some of the remaining coffee in his cup, adding just a splash of cream. He wasn't like Bruce, who felt the need to block out all the coffee bitterness with sugar, and prefered it without.

He was there for a few minutes when he heard someone else coming down the stairs. He didn't turn when the person stood behind him. He could tell from the footsteps and familiar sound of his breathing who it was. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to join me at the table, Master Jason?"

Jason sat down across from him. Alfred looked him over. He was dressed, which was surprising at this time in the morning. He wondered if he had slept at all, or spent all night wondering the streets of Gotham or passing around wherever he found himself. He certainly hadn't been in the manor.

"I didn't know you slept here, Master Jason," Alfred said in his even voice.

"You know I didn't," Jason mumbled. "I was trying to break in through the window. The big one, in Bruce's room. Thought I'd give him a heart attack. He wasn't there, though, and I didn't want to break through it. Tim let me in."

"Oh, was that you banging on the window? I thought a bird had flew into it."

Jason glared at Alfred. "Very funny, old man. What was Tim doing sleeping in Bruce's room anyway? Isn't he a little old to be crawling into bed with his daddy?"

Alfred set his mug down with a clatter. "Be kind to Master Timothy, he's been through a lot lately. Bruce's death hit him hard, and it didn't help it came so close to his girlfriend's death."

"Oh yeah, Conner Kent." Jason smirked and leaned back in his chair.

"Stephanie Brown. Superboy's death was hard on Master Timothy too, but he's back now, and it's helped a lot. And Master Richard making Master Damian Robin. You didn't make it easy on him either. Trying to kill him a while back-"

"I didn't try to kill him, Alfred." Jason defended, crossing his arms. "If I tried he would have been dead."

"You should be more sympathetic, Master Jason. You know what happened with the Joker."

Jason slammed his palm down on the table. His eyes looked like they would burst out of his skull. He shut them. Alfred frowned. He knew it had been a low blow, but Jason needed to know how serious this was.

Jason stayed silent for a minute too long. Alfred opened his mouth to apology, but he spoke. "Why would I care about that? I don't. The Joker does terrible things to good people, Alfred. It happens. I don't care if little Timmy went crazy or got tortured or whatever. It's not like he died or anything." Jason looked away and sighed. He shook his head. "Besides, he got to shoot the Joker. You know what I would have given for that?" Jason looked away. "Stupid little bastard. I wanted to be the one to kill the Joker."

Alfred smiled and cupped his hand over Jason's. "I'm glad you're back, Master Jason."

"I'm glad to be back, Alfred." He looked down again and pulled his hand away. "I just wish Bruce felt the same way."