Hi. I'm just having one of those days when no matter what happens, it's still a crappy day. So I'm gonna and add this story. Yay! I hope you enjoy!

Also read by me: Young Justice- A Blast of the Past

Batman- Damian's Thoughts

Soul Eater- The Broken Mask

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Damian, Tim, Richard, Alfred, of any other characters being used. I also don't own Young Justice, or Soul Eater. Batman created by Bob Kane.

Chapter One: Little Brother

I was in the training room, just me and my thoughts. And the sound of my fists and feet hitting punching bag, my pants and grunts. I just couldn't believe it. I got in a… argument… with Father earlier, about how I was ready to go out on patrol with him. He took Grayson! But he said no. That I don't know Gotham well enough. So I countered with "How the hell am I supposed to get to know Gotham when I'm not allowed outside?!"

Not my best idea. All I got was grounded and a particularly difficult work out as a punishment for back talking. I thought about Father, about Grayson, and Drake. Father trusted them, but not me. Grayson is his favorite, and he's not even blood related! Drake will always come before me, infuriatingly enough. Hell, Father even likes Jason more that me. Yeah, he trusts them, but not his own flesh and blood. That was the real reason he wouldn't let me come. What could I do to earn his trust? The answer to my frequently asked question evades me once more.

I looked to the work out sheet Father had given me. All my next set was, was a repetition of the last five sets. I sighed. Father and his dammed repetition. What was it he fancied about it all? If I can do it once, I can do it in combat, right? What was the point? Repetition, repetition, repetition. So much freaking repetition.

"Now what are you mumbling about?"

I turned to the infuriating voice of Timothy Drake. He was leaning on the door way, a small smirk on his face. "Not still brooding about your grounding, are you?"

I crossed my arm, adjusting my face to give an indigent glare. "Just thinking of ways to get rid of you without attaining Father's attention," I replied.

He feigned hurt. "You wound me, brother,"

"I'm not your brother," I growled.

"Well, not-my-brother, care to spar?"

I scoffed, "Why? We already proved I'm better,"

He smiled, "Not true. The first time we fought, you were trying to kill me, and I was trying to talk to you. Not a fair fight. The second time we fought, you shot a bat-grapple at me, and got me kidnapped by the League of Assassins. Not a fair fight," I glared at him, how long was he gong to hold that whole, 'got you kidnapped' thing against me?

"So you are suggesting a fair fight? Ok, but I warn you, I won't go easy on you,"

"I expect nothing less, little brother,"

I resisted the urge to throw up my arms in exasperation, "I'm not your brother!"

He walked to the mat, and raised his fists. "Are we going to fight or talk?"

With a low growl, I struck. He blocked my hand easily, countering with his own attempt at a hit, which I avoided just as easily. And so we started, striking out with fists, feet, and flips, only sometimes managing to get a hit. Eventually, unable to constrain his annoying nature, he spoke up.

"See, the way I see it, we are brothers,"

I bent backwards, his fist missing my face by a tenth of an inch. I scoffed, "How?"

"Well, your biological dad is Bruce, and Bruce is basically my dad, my surrogate father. That makes you basically my little brother,"

"-tt- As if. You have no blood relation to my father, to me. We are not brothers,"

"Sure we are," he argued, "We have our own little family. Alfred is like our grandfather, Bruce is our dad, Dick the oldest brother, I'm the middle child, and you are our youngest brother, the baby of the family. Babs is our older sister, too. We're a family."

I attempted to kick his face, but he punched away, forcing me to flip backwards. "You are wrong, Drake. My family is my mother, my father, and my grandfather. Not you, or Grayson, or Pennyworth. Just my blood relations."

He sighed sadly, "I thought for sure by now you would understand. Understand that family ties are deeper than blood."

His words shocked me. I thought of Grandfather, whom I met only once. When he wanted to possess my body. Is that love, is that family?

And what about Mother, first using me as a pawn in her crazy war with Father, then protecting me from Grandfather, and then disowning me completely. Her affections for me were bipolar to say the least. Does she love me, think of me as her family, care about me at all? Or does she still want me to kill Father?

Does Father care about me? He did save me from Grandfather, he called me his son. He tried to protect me from Mother; he is training me to be Robin. Is all this repetition him making sure I can do it to save my life? Father took me in, gave me a home and… a family?

Grayson, as Batman, he never gave up on me, he still won't. He believes I can be good, do good. He took care of me when Father was 'Dead'. He cares about me, and I …I care about him.

Pennyworth, always there, no matter how heinous I can be. The ever certain, ever caring… Grandfather. Better than my grandfather, by far.

And Tim? We don't get along; we have never liked each other. But he has helped me, even when I leave him in the dust. He has never really gotten into our fights, always holding back. Even now, as I stand completely still, thinking of this revelation, Tim stands there, waiting.

"Drake, I have stopped fighting. You had the perfect chance to attack, to beat me, to prove you are better. Why didn't you?"

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Because, I don't actually want to hurt you, little brother."

He walked towards me, wrapping his arms around me. I stood still for a few seconds, then slowly wrapped my arms around his waist. Family. Alfred, Father, Dick, Tim, and me. We are a family.

Little Brother.

He uses the term so loosely.

Little Brother.

It is quite a comforting title.