A/N I'm really excited to finally be posting this, guys. Thank you to my awesome beta reader, Sairey13, and thanks to all of my fans who actually encouraged me to write a sequel. ^^

Oh, and Dozen's Day! ;)

Disclaimer This goes for the entire fanfiction: I don't own Young Justice. I'm just a fan with a computer.

~Aiva

Dick's throat was dry and his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. His legs felt unsteady and weak, a sick feeling of dread and fear coursing through him heavily. His panicked blue eyes were locked on the one man he never wanted to see again:

Dr. Anthony Lawrence.

The scientist stared back at him, brown eyes cold and satisfied, filled with a sadistic pleasure that sent icy chills down Dick's spine. "You're dead," he whispered, eyes wide and filled with an uncomprehending horror. He was aware that he was shaking, the violent tremors making it difficult to stand. The boy pressed himself against the wall, wishing desperately that he could go through it and get away from this nightmare. "You're dead," he repeated, voice growing louder with hysteria. "I saw you die!"

Dr. Anthony Lawrence chuckled. "No, Richard. You saw Hope burn; I am still very much alive. And I want to finish what I started."

Dick was hyperventilating by this point; this couldn't be happening. It had been roughly two months since he had escaped Cadmus, and Dick had finally started to feel like his life might be going back to normal…relatively speaking, of course. But this new twist had thrown everything away, turned his life upside down, making it a living nightmare. He was dead! Dick had been so sure…but he had been naïve to believe that everything was over. Because Dick knew better.

This would never be over.

Dr. Anthony Lawrence stepped closer, and Dick looked around wildly for an escape route. Finding none, his heart pounded even faster and he had to fight to hold in a scream. Even the shadows seemed to be reaching out for him by this point, threatening to drag him back to Cadmus. "No," Dick whispered, mouth to dry to say anything more. "No, no, no, no."

"Oh, yes, Richard. I haven't broken you, yet." It didn't take much to hear the amusement in Dr. Anthony Lawrence's voice; he was looking forward to this, and that scared Dick the most. Fingers brushed up against his arm, and Dick couldn't help it anymore.

"BRUCE!" he screamed, desperate for someone, anyone, to come and save him from this. He couldn't go back to Cadmus, he couldn't deal with that again. Fear clouded his senses and thoughts, making them tumble together incoherently. He wasn't aware of much except the raw, animal panic surging through him. "WALLY! BRUCE!" He started calling for anyone, already able to feel the knives piercing his flesh, sending searing flashes of pain through him.

"Please, don't," he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as tears trickled down his pale cheeks, stinging his flesh. "No…stop. Bruce," he repeated, gasping. "Wally!" He was scared, absolutely terrified as he was grabbed, strong arms preventing his escape. Only one coherent thought filled his mind.

No one was coming to save him.

Bruce suppressed the urge to glance at the clock, a muffled groan slipping out. His hands reached up to rub his temples, a headache throbbing against his skull; if there was one thing he hated more than all of the crazed villains that seemed to make up most of Gotham's population, it was paperwork.

Bruce groaned again when he picked up his mug, only to realize his untouched coffee had grown cold from sitting out so long. Exhaustion settled into his mind like a fog, turning his thoughts into a jumbled mess. He picked up the pen, scribbling his signature on the bottom of the paper; at this point, he didn't even care what the document was anymore. Setting the now signed papers aside, he glanced over at the remaining stack. If it weren't for the considerable self-control he had gained by being Batman, he would be slamming his head repeatedly into his desk by now.

Hmm…if only Batman could rid the world of paperwork. Bruce was able to distract himself with that for a few moments before he forced his straying thoughts to return to the matter at hand, despite the hatred he held for it. His navy eyes skimmed over the next paper, barely focusing on the black print. He raised his pen, ready to hastily add his signature to this one too before he was interrupted by something that made his heart leap into his throat.

Dick screamed, a sound of absolute terror that ripped through the empty manor hallways. Bruce was running to his room immediately, knocking his chair over in his haste. Not very many things could make his boy scream like that, a cry so fearful that it scared Bruce too. Running up the stairs, Bruce realized the screams were turning into actual names as Dick shouted – pleaded – for someone to come save him. There were two names the billionaire picked out; Bruce and Wally.

Bruce flinched internally, analytical mind quickly supplying the reason for why Dick would be calling out for them; it was another nightmare about that. It wasn't rare for Dick to have nightmares every so often, especially when he was sick or after a traumatizing event; Cadmus had caused him to have nightmares every single night for two weeks. To think that someone had scared Dick that badly…it brought out a protective paternal instinct in Bruce that would let him go to the ends of the earth and back if it meant protecting his son.

Bruce had been hunting down undercover branches of Cadmus ever since Dick's return; he hadn't had much success, unfortunately. Cadmus was excellent at covering their tracks…of course, that just meant the urge to pound them into a pulp was building and building inside of Bruce; whenever he had a solid enough lead to go after them…well, to put it nicely, the scientists in Cadmus would regret ever being born. No one laid a hand on Dick and got away with it.

Bruce was at Dick's door in a matter of seconds, an impressive feat considering the size of the manor. He shoved the door open, concern the predominant emotion on his face as his navy eyes found the shivering form of his son.

Dick was still struggling, sobs and screams continuing to pour out of him in a panicked mixture. The nightlight Dick had quietly insisted be plugged into his wall allowed Bruce to see the tears shimmering on his pale cheeks, the sheer terror on his face. Fatherly instincts taking over, Bruce moved to the bed, paying no attention to the fists narrowly missing him as Dick continued to fight. He was, literally, kicking and screaming.

"Please, don't. No….stop. Bruce! Wally!"

The cry tugged at Bruce's heart, and he wrapped strong arms around Dick, both hoping to calm him and prevent any accidental injury to either of them. Dick's breathing changed, though he was still hyperventilating; he was awake, at least.

Mind still apparently locked in his nightmare, Dick continued fighting, struggling to pull away from Bruce with all of the strength in his small frame. His blue eyes were open, but haunted and terrified, not really seeing anything.

Bruce let go on instinct, hating to be the source of any of Dick's fear. Dick immediately scrambled to the corner of the bed, his back hitting the wooden bedpost with considerable force. The boy curled into a tight ball upon contact, still shaking violently as he shrank into himself, as if to escape from any further harm that might come to him.

Bruce hesitated for only a moment before reaching out. As soon as his fingers touched Dick's shoulder, the thirteen-year-old flinched away violently, a harsh cry following the jerking reaction. "Leave me alone," he whimpered, fear evident in his voice.

"Dick," Bruce said softly, trying to get through to him; it was obvious Dick was still locked in the nightmare, panic twisting his thoughts into an incoherent mess. "Shh, Dickie. You're safe, I promise." He reached out again, forcing himself to ignore the violent reaction and gather Dick into his arms again, though this time in a more gentle hold.

Dick fought for a few more moments before his mind seemed to recognize the familiar voice and warm arms. His tear-filled baby blues focused on Bruce's face, and he let out another muffled sob before burying his face in his adoptive father's shirt. Thin arms wrapped around his neck, and Bruce hugged Dick tighter in response. "You're safe," he repeated, voice as gentle and soothing as possible, "I'm not going to let them ever touch you again."

"H-he was there, B-Bruce," Dick managed to get out, voice shaking almost as badly as his thin body. "I-It felt s-so real, a-and-"

"He's dead, Dickie-bird. If he were alive, I would know. It's all over now, chum."

Dick reached out blindly, fingers finding the well-known fabric of his old childhood toy. He pulled the stuffed elephant close, hoping to find further comfort in something so familiar and regular; Peanut had been there through practically everything.

Most kids his age would be embarrassed by even the thought of sleeping with a stuffed animal; Dick, however, was not most kids. Peanut was at least one constant in his roller-coaster of a life, and at times, he could even pick up the old circus scent buried in the toy. Dick doubted he would ever get rid of his elephant, no matter how old he got.

Dick buried his face in Peanut, arms tightening their grip on both it and Bruce. He was aware that it was late, exhaustion tugging heavily at his limbs, but Dick doubted he could get any sleep now. What seemed like hours passed before Dick had calmed himself down enough to pull away, albeit reluctantly; Bruce was sure to be tired, at least, and he didn't deserve to be kept awake any longer.

So Dick retreated back to his pillow, blue eyes focused firmly on the comforter beneath him. "Sorry," he whispered, voice hoarse and thick with lingering tears. He cleared it, wiping away the salty drops with his hand as he did.

"Don't be," Bruce interjected immediately. He studied Dick carefully for a moment, navy eyes reading body language and facial expression with apparent ease. It wasn't difficult to see that Dick wanted him to stay. He was about to mention it when Dick shook his head. "Go get some sleep," he insisted quietly. "I-I'll be okay."

Both of them had the decency not to notice the way his voice stumbled as he said he would be fine. Bruce nodded, though a reluctant frown slid across his face. He was tired though; he would have to take Dick's word on this one. He didn't know if he'd win an argument with the kid or not. "Night, Bruce," Dick whispered, throat still to raw and sore to manage anything louder.

Bruce let out a small sigh through his nose as he stood, ruffling Dick's sweaty hair in a familiar gesture of affection. "Night, Dickie-bird," he murmured as a response before leaving, not bothering to close the door; he knew fully well that Dick would only open it later if he did.

Once the sound of Bruce's footsteps had faded, Dick reached out to grab his cellphone, finding it quickly. He turned it on, the screen casting his face in an almost sickly glow. His fingers shook slightly as he pressed the familiar numbers into the keypad, lifting it up to his ear. Despite the time (it had to be around three in the morning…Dick wasn't exactly sure) it was answered after only three rings.

"Dick?" Wally asked, the sleep in his voice unmistakable. A stifled yawn sent subtle crackle of static through the phone, and Dick tightened his grip.

"Hey, Wally," he answered quietly, unable to stop the sniffle that followed.

"Nightmare?" Wally guessed. Honestly, this routine was familiar to both of them. Bruce would calm him down, but it wasn't quite enough for these particular nightmares; Wally had been there for the Cadmus thing, Wally was the one to get him out. It had placed a certain bond between them that had only strengthened their previous one. So, no matter the time, Wally always had his phone on; he would often wake up in the middle of the night, the persistent ringing alerting him of another call from Dick.

Dick nodded before realizing Wally couldn't actually see him. "Yeah, I-" he began before ending abruptly, a lump in his throat forming suddenly. "I-it was really bad this time, Wally. I thought he c-came back, and he said he wasn't done…he still had to break me…he was right there, Wally. And I-I couldn't do anything."

"Dick, we both saw him die. He's gone, dead, no more; if there's anything left, it's ashes. He's not coming back. And if he does, he has to go through the Team, the League, Daddy Bats, and me. So relax, okay, Dick?"

Dick let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to do just that; his knotted, tense muscles relaxed somewhat and he sank into his pillow. "Thanks, Wally," he mumbled. He felt slightly better, at least.

"No problem. You gonna be okay now?"

Dick actually had to think about that for a few seconds. "Yeah…I think I'll be fine. Well, as fine as anyone can ever be in Gotham." He was lucky Wally didn't tease him for that pathetic attempt at light-hearted "humor"…that had sounded feeble even to Dick; he could console himself with the fact that it was late at night, and he was still slightly shaky from the nightmare.

"Right," Wally snorted, in an odd mixture of disbelief, exhaustion, and amusement, "I'm not awake enough to argue, so I'm just going to take your word for it. Night, Dick."

"Night, Wally," Dick answered before ending the call, placing the phone hesitantly on the table beside his bed. Pulling Peanut closer to his chest, his head slumped further into the large pillow.

Even as his blue eyes slipped shut, one thought continued to linger in his mind;

This would never be over.

A/N Things are generally scarier in nightmares, and poor Dick is having a lot of them. If you can't tell already, this is definitely going to have some major angst and hurt/comfort, so buckle up for the ride. ;)

And as an unfortunate side note; I'm not sure how frequently I'll be able to update. This will definitely be my main priority in terms of writing, but my schedule is pretty busy as of late. Luckily, I already have the first few chapters written, so it shouldn't take too long for a while at least.

Reviews are greatly appreciated!