Daughter, Sister, Friend.
A quick fic made for @casscainweek 2026~! Features Cass, Babs, Stephanie (wink), and my OC Sol. Enjoy~! AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78390616/chapters/205497691
What are they to you?
The question had been posed hours ago. Cassandra Cain, Batgirl—possibly the strongest human fighter alive—was puzzled. She stared at the punching bag in the Batcave, ignoring her family members. As she punched, she pondered. Care was obvious. She would die for the others—not just as a hero. Dick, Tim, Damien…Alfred, Bruce, Barbara, Stephanie—
Cassandra froze, hitting the bag too hard. It swung back and toppled the stand to the floor. Others looked over as she stood, breathing hard, fist still outstretched.
She cared about all of them, but…Barbara and Stephanie. The thought of something happening to those two? It made a tight, little knot of pain appear in her sternum, which rose up to her the space behind her eyes, threatening to force tears out. If she imagined it long enough- A car accident, a gunshot, a funeral- she might very well cry. Then there was the guilt: Why didn’t she react that way to the others? To Bruce, at the very least?
“Cass, you alright?” Dick asked, having walked over. He was as put-together, friendly, and handsome as ever, but not what she needed right now.
“Barbara,” the Batgirl said curtly, looking over at her brother. Her way of asking a question, really.
“I…think she’s upstairs, actually. She visited last night and hasn’t left for work- Hey!”
The heroine was already rushing out of the cave, throwing a hand over her back as a ‘thanks’ while Dick stared on with confusion. But Cassandra didn’t have time for the confusing world of speech and social cues- When something that felt this important stabbed itself into her brain, it would become her sole focus. How to talk about this, however, was the question she had as she stormed down the hallways past dozens of rooms in the manor, bee-lining for the kitchen. As she imagined, there was her mentor sitting beside Alfred, who insisted on sending her away with some sort of treat.
Mentor. That was the word that had just come to mind. But was it sufficient? Did one cry over the mere thought of a mentor passing? Was it more? Appropriate? Too much?
“Cass…” Barbara said slowly, raising an eyebrow, watching her friend frozen at the entrance of the kitchen with wide eyes and confusion. “Are you alright?”
“What are we?”
The question hit like a sledgehammer. Both Alfred and Barbara stared at Cassandra, then shared a look of concern, if not for her, then for themselves, because how does one answer that? Alfred speaks first, clearing his throat politely and turning to the counter.
“If you would like a word in private, then I will be happy to leave, Miss Cain, but please sit down and enjoy the snacks.” The butler turns back around with a plate of cookies, smelling warm and chocolatey, and sets them on the table. Barbara put her bag down (work be damned) and rolled herself up to the table, grabbing a cookie and waving it to the empty seat, as if telling her protege to join her.
“Stay,” Cassandra said to Alfred, sitting down. She added quietly. “Please.”
Again, the two adults shared a glance before Alfred joined the table, hands neatly pressed together on its surface. No one spoke at first. Where to start?
“Maybe you could explain yourself a little better, Cass,” Barbara suggested, smiling unsurely. “What do you mean, what are we?”
“What do you think we are? What do you call me?”
“Uh…my friend,” Barbara says, looking down at the plate of cookies. “My family. Someone I love fiercely, and whom I can’t imagine my life without.” She’s smiling now, glasses falling down her nose, staring at the younger Batgirl. She takes a cookie, turning it in her hand. “You are someone I’m immensely proud of, and I’d do anything for you.”
“I…like that,” Cassandra admitted slowly, her ears turning pink at the barrage of compliments. “But does that mean…family? Friends? Something else? Mother?”
“You want a word, Miss Cain?” Alfred smiled in that way of his: Soft and amused but never belittling. Never sarcastic, impatient, or surprised. Reassuring, as he always was. Happy to take over as Barbara choked on her cookie at the word ‘mother’. “If I may, when two people are close- Be it a relationship, friendship, parent-child, comrades-in-arms, or any other mix, there are few single words that do those feelings justice. Fewer still that apply to situations such as ours, where nothing is cut and dry.”
“Yeah, you couldn’t just be my friend, or sister, or protege. You’re…so much more than that. Even though we don’t have words for it. I could say the same about other people I love, like Dick.” Barbara smiles wider, biting her cookie happily, the tension erased. “But if anyone ever asks, I guess you can just call us family.”
“It is a good word,” Alfred agreed pointedly, pushing the plate closer to Cassandra.
“…if I feel a lot for you,” Cassandra says quietly, taking a cookie but not biting it quite yet. She looks down at it, avoiding the two adults, a hint of shame appearing on her face. “But feel…different. For others. People I should love. Is it…fake? Bad?”
“Of course not, Cass.” Barbara leans over the table, taking the younger one’s hand in both of hers, still smiling ear to ear. “It’s just different for everyone. You can love someone differently, grieve differently, spend time or enjoy it differently. But, at least in this house, we all know how you feel. Even those you might not be as close to. You are a loving person, Cassandra Cain.”
For the first time since the question was posed, the vigilante feels herself relax. She looked between Alfred and Barbara, both supportive in their own ways, both watching her with patience and calm, both loved by her, and she smiled. She squeezed Barbara’s hand before pulling away.
“Thank you. I need to find someone now.”
As Cassandra stood up and walked over, smiling at them both (and grabbing a small handful of cookies), she did notice one thing: Barbara never denied the maternal role. Was that the word she was looking for? Mother? Or were they right, and there was no perfect word? Did she even like the idea of being a daughter? Despite the answers she’d gotten, so much still felt confusing.
Tap tap tap!
Tap tap tap tap!
TAPTAPTAPTAP-!
“Calm down, I’m here!” Stephanie Brown hissed, throwing the windows open like this was just another night, looking mildly concerned but not surprised. “You could have texted me! My mom is asleep, Cass.”
“Needed to talk.”
Stephanie stared at her for a slow five seconds, completely puzzled, because Cassandra rarely sounded so serious during her nighttime visits; she was usually very careful, and she was dressed in normal clothes, not her suit or even a black shirt for stealth. Her hair was ruffled, as if she’d run here.
“Alright, come on in.”
“What are we?”
Once again, Cassandra asked her question bluntly, standing right by the window as if to make a quick escape, crossing her arms and staring at her friend. The blonde, for her part, freezes. She doesn’t look over her shoulder or turn around. The tension in her shoulders is obvious, the slight tilt of her head, as if trying to discreetly recover her breath, meaning her heart was racing.
It was a completely different reaction from Barbara.
“What, um, what do you mean?” Stephanie asked, chuckling halfheartedly and grabbing her phone from the bed, scrolling through it. That definitely wasn’t like her. Not with Cassandra. “We’re…friends, right?”
“No.” Cassandra’s reply is firm. It left no rule for discussion, simply a fact to her. It’s the sudden spin from the blonde, the way her blue eyes widen, how her hand grips her phone too tightly, that tells Cassandra she said the wrong thing. So she fixes it: “I love you.”
Now that they were facing each other, there was no hiding how much Cassandra had not fixed things. She watches with shock as those blue eyes widen further, her body completely freezes, her cheeks turn bright red, and her phone falls out of her hand. She easily sees: Shock. Confusion. Fluster.
Fluster?
Cassandra stares at her, cheeks also growing warmer from embarrassment, because Barbara hadn’t reacted this way at all. She’d said it easily and honestly. So why would Stephanie react this way?
“What do you mean by that exactly?” Stephanie asked quietly, not daring to move an inch. Racked with concern, Cassandra wanted nothing more than to hold her, to give her friend the reassurance she usually needed. But she stays still.
“When I think of something bad happening to you,” Cassandra starts, touching her sternum. “It hurts. Right here. You and Barbara. No one else. I felt bad because I do…care about others. But you two…it is different.”
“Oh,” Stephanie says, still staring. She doesn’t relax, but to Cassandra, the little inkling of curiosity is profoundly obvious. “Is it different between Babs and me, too?”
“I don’t know.”
The honest truth. Her eyes left Stephanie for a moment, thinking on the question. Was it different? Both invoked pain. She was comfortable with both of them. They both meant everything to her. But…only Stephanie appeared in her mind. Only Stephanie could share a bed with her after watching movies. Only Stephanie could see her glare and still smile like a radiant sun-
“Yes, it is different,” she decided, before her thoughts strayed any further.
“Well…” Stephanie smiled at that answer, still flustered but clearly much happier. Her usual goofiness was gone, replaced with a gentle joy as she started nervously playing with a blonde curl. “I don’t know what we are, I guess. Friends doesn’t feel right, does it?”
“No.”
“Then…what do you want to call me?”
That was it. What did she, Cassandra Cain, want to say? And really, she didn’t need words. It was her choice how she felt. As long as she showed them, in her way, it clearly didn’t matter. It’s what Cassandra herself wanted. It made more sense to her than any incomplete title or tag ever could.
“Thank you,” Cassandra says, surging forward and wrapping her arms around Stephanie tightly. “One more person to see.”
“Wait-!”
Just like that, the headstrong and objective vigilante was gone. She had her answers, but what she didn’t see was Stephanie fall onto her bed, sighing, looking completely lost.
“…do you love me?” Stephanie whispered to herself.
It was late by the time Cassandra returned to the manner. She had donned her suit. A full black ensemble with a yellow utility belt, bat logo on her chest, and thick soled boots for extra height and protection. Only her mask was off, revealing a determined and confident expression. She knew where her person was: In the cave, training, as she always did alone while the others patrolled.
“Cass!”
As soon as the elevator doors hissed up Sol turned around from the weights she was using, dropping them and jogging over. She was the newest stray brought to the manor. Not exactly family but also not someone they could let go. Not yet. The two had their fair share of issues, and now Cassandra realized she may have been unfair to the other girl. Time to fix that.
“I’ve been looking for all day,” Sol said, standing straight with her hands planted on her hips. She was wearing sweatpants and a black tank top with sneakers. Her tan skin, seen on broad shoulders and tan arms, was exposed. Her chocolate curls were short but also finally growing out, and her eyes glowed green with the power of the Lazarus Pit. Or, at least, that was the working theory. “Can we talk?”
Her body showed all the information Cassandra couldn’t possibly pick up via social cues. The smile, so warm and real, was an expert mask for anxiety. The shifting, for such a high-energy person, hid fear. The green eyes pulsed. Not just anxiety, Sol was trying to hide the dullness of her glow that often came about when she felt bad or down.
“Me too.” It hurt Cassandra to see her so wound up. Hiding in plain sight, because anyone else would struggle to notice what she just saw. She holds her hands behind her back, exhaling deeply. “I’m-”
“I’m sorry,” Sol interrupts.”
What?
“It was unfair of me to question your relationships, especially knowing how hard socializing was and can be for you.” The green-eyed girl inhaled deeply, as if gathering her courage. “I was mad. At everything. You too, for some of the stuff you’ve done, but…more so, everything else. And I’m tired, Cassandra, really fucking tired. So I jumped on you, and it wasn’t just wrong, it was cruel.” Sol looked away, body shivering as she held back tears, scoffing at herself for it. “You don’t need to explain how you feel to anyone. ‘Least of all me. What you have with your people is obvious, and don’t let me ruin that ‘cause I’m a yapper.”
“You confuse me,” Cassandra said, grabbing the other girl’s arms so she would be quiet, stepping closer. They’re the same height, and Sol tenses as Cassandra leans in closer. “But you are good. I like challenge. I like…honesty. I’m sorry. I treated you badly. I was jealous.” The words weren’t easy. Cassandra didn’t usually feel wrong, and talking about it was strange. “Your question…made me learn. A lot. About people. Thank you.”
“Jealous?”
That was an entirely different can of worms to open up. So, Cassandra simply opted to hug Sol, then she released her and put her mask on, walking backwards towards the exit.
“We train tomorrow.”
Not a question, or suggestion, but a promise. She wouldn’t ignore or compete with this girl anymore. They were friends, right? Cassandra knew it was time they both started acting like it, and unlike most of her experiences with people, she was going to take the first step.