When did vampires become a thing?

That was what the Joker wanted to know. At what point did it become normal to hang garlic by your windows and doors, and to stock your fridge with holy water? When did a vampire district spring up in Gotham? The vamps were all over the country- all over the world, really, but Gotham was America's Undead Capitol, possibly because of the criminal abundance. Maybe it had started with the homeless population. There was always a big one in Gotham, easy prey for the night's predators, as were all the drunkards who forgot to lock their doors and who passed out in the streets. Or maybe it was the upper classes, the sickness spreading like a trend, only this wasn't a fashion you could just throw away afterwards.

But Joker knew the fundamentals: he knew that it wasn't safe to go out after dark, because that was when the monsters came out. He knew that you should stay away from Crime Alley and the surrounding areas, because that was where the vamps were most common. He knew that if you did get bitten, you had to go for just over a month without drinking blood to return to normal. If you did drink blood, there was usually a specific amount you needed to drink- in the first few days, and the last few hours, it was very low, and it didn't need to be human, but if you were halfway through your sickness, you might have to drink gallons of red out of someone on the street to become a vampire. Most of the people who got bitten were kept in solitary confinement, if the police caught them in time. Joker knew not all the amulets being sold in the black market worked, and he knew you couldn't trust the companies selling holy water by the bottle. Most of the time it was just some sort of holy solution- at least seventy five percent of it was just normal water. He was willing to bet some of it was piss.

Harley bought into it, though. The fridge in the old funhouse they were living it had at least five brands of holy water, and the Joker was sure most of it had never even seen a priest, let alone been blessed by one. She sewed pouches of garlic into the lining of his coat, and bought him a small silver cross to wear around his neck. Whenever some ass trying to make a bit of money introduced a new technique, she either bought or stole a sample and made the Joker use it. He practically had his own utility belt, only his arsenal was toothpicks, matches, and vines, as opposed to something that might actually be useful. But he had to laugh, because even the Bat himself- the real one, not the ones running around drinking blood- had added wooden stakes and crucifixes to his toy collection.

But for the most part, Joker felt safe. He didn't feel like a human, so he didn't feel at risk. He locked his doors, but he didn't stay up late worrying that something would crawl out from under his bed. He still committed his crimes in the dark, but some did take place in the day- after all, Jonny had kept on working at night. Now Jonny had red eyes and paid his goons to steal from blood banks. Harvey hadn't been so lucky- he and Two-Face were both dead. Double dead.

Maybe it was because the Joker felt so safe that he wasn't exactly… on guard. And Harley wore white makeup most of the time, how was he supposed to know that her skin was getting lighter? How was he supposed to see the shadows under her eyes? She started to get more and more worried about him, telling him to wear garlic and amulets, and always reminding him that if he ran into a vampire, he had to stab it through the chest, or saw it's head off and burn it. "Remember to burn it," she'd say. "You have to burn it, or it can re-attach itself. The vamps have hospitals for that kind of thing."

He'd just been annoyed. He hadn't thought anything of it- she was keeping out of sight more than normal, anyways. And then, out of the blue, she attacked him. He'd been coming into the kitchen, and Harley was standing by the stove staring at the pan of bacon, her fists clenched and her whole body shaking. It was like somebody had set her on vibrate.

"Harley?"

She spun around like she'd been hit, and lunged for him. He struggled to keep her teeth away from his neck, and holy shit, she had fangs. Her canines were almost two inches long, and more importantly, they were almost two inches away from his jugular. Her fingernails were scrabbling against his chest, and they she was breathing heavily, almost screaming. He finally manages to shove her off of him, and into the living room. He locked the door behind him and sat in the hallway, panting.

There was what sounded like a whimper, followed by a cry. The Joker pulled his knees up to his chest.

When could Harley have gotten infected? Who could have bitten her? She was so afraid of vampires, she barely even left the house.

Unless she'd let the vampire inside? You really couldn't tell who was safe nowadays, and with all the vamp hunters on television, someone could've easily convinced her to let them in one night while he was out robbing a bank, just by saying he was tracking some undead thing.

And now Harley was a thing.

But Joker knew the fundamentals, and he knew that the bloodlust was strongest at the end and the beginning of the sickness- meaning that she had either just been attacked, or had gone for a over a month without telling him she'd been bitten, and had been resisting the urge to bite him for that long. That was impressive. Sometimes, he really did love Harley.

There was shrieking inside of the living room, hammering on the door. She was wailing, saying that he had to let her out, that she was so thirsty, she would leave him alone, she loved him. Then she started threatening him, saying that she would suck him dry, and that she was going to kill him for every single bad thing he'd done to her, for every time he'd punched her, and then that she was going to kill Batman too, and that she was so thirsty, she would leave him alone if he would just open the door.

If only he'd stayed at home more often. Then he might have realized something was wrong. Now that the Joker thought about it, when Harley wasn't telling him to wear more vegetable necklaces, she was avoiding him like the plague. She had stopped sleeping with him. He'd thought they were just having a falling out. That she was going to move in with Ivy soon. But maybe the signs had been there, he just hadn't been smart enough to see.

There was a knock at the door, right by his head. "Puddin, I'm alright now. I'm sorry." He didn't say anything. "I should have told you. But I'm better now. I'm not sick anymore. I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you. Please let me out."

She sounded so pitiful. He had to let Harley out. She was Harley. He couldn't just leave her stranded in the living room forever.

"I'd never do that to you, I'm okay now, really, I promise I won't bite you, I'll go away, if you want me too, please let me out…"
He stood up, and opened the door. Harley's irises were bright red, like little rubies, and her mouth was the same color, smudged with blood. Two forms laid at her feet- the bodies of Bud and Lou, her beloved hyenas. Her babies. Dead.

Harley sprung at him. The Joker slammed the door shut, but she pushed through it and tore at his throat with her hands. He shouted and ran for the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind him. Harley's fingers got caught between it and the wall. He inhaled sharply, and opened the door slightly. She pushed her arm through, and he snapped the door shut again. She howled. This time, when he opened the door, she pulled her hand back, and he locked it behind him.

"Puddin, please, I won't hurt you, please let me in…"

He didn't. He kept the door locked all day and all night, even after he heard her retreat. Through the window, he saw her slipping outside. He wondered if she would come back.

She didn't.

Harley was all over the news. Another undead criminal, like Jonny, but she wasn't just experimenting and robbing from blood banks- she was killing people every day, and and it was gruesome. Gotham loved gruesome. If the news had been frightening before, it was a nightmare now. It was just disturbing, seeing police strewn across the streets missing their arms and their throats, and the homeless weren't even recognizable as people. The Joker saw one special in which a policeman had his stomach ripped out, and was sprawled out next to a leg. That was just it- a leg. No owner, just a flipping leg.

Batman was all over the news, too. His belt was the only thing that could hold off a vampire. He had some sort of gas he sprayed in their faces that knocked them out, and he would take them to a hospital Bruce Wayne had set up, where vampires would live, and anonymous donors would give blood for them to drink. But no one seemed to be able to catch Harley. And then Commissioner Gordon was found, dead on the Bat-signal, his head barely attached to his body, the Red Hood passed out nearby. There was a gash in his neck. And there wasn't a question of who had done it. Harley had gone way beyond stealing his spotlight. She had stepped into his territory, and now no one could stop her.

The Joker, though, might be able to hunt her down. He knew her better than anyone else. So he ripped the garlic pouches out of his jacket, stuffed his silver cross in his pocket, and set out for Crime Alley the minute the sun went down.

"Harley!" he called. "C'mere, girl! Harles!" If someone approached him, he pulled out the cross and made sure it was between them. "Do you know where Harley is?" Most of them left him alone, and didn't bother answering him.

Then, Batman answered the question for him. He stumbled out of an alleyway and into the road in front of him, wiping a thin trail of blood from his chin as if it were poison, and Harley came out after him, kicking him in the chest. He went for his belt, but she dove for his midsection and he yanked his hand away before she could bite one of his fingers off.

The Joker held up the cross and coughed politely. Harley froze, and Batman pushed her off and backed away, readying a batarang.

Harley raced for the Joker, and he jumped back, still holding out the cross. Batman threw a batarang at her, but she whirled and caught it, then sent it spinning toward the Joker's hand. He dropped the cross and she leapt over it, grabbing his throat. The Joker yelled and kicked, trying to shake her off, but there would be no escape this time- she was going to kill him.

It felt like her fangs were brushing his neck, when suddenly she was gone, and Batman was struggling with her instead, trying to keep her away from both of them.

God bless the Batman, the Joker thought, and it made him giggle. Harley noticed him again, still laying on the pavement, and her eyes lit up. She ran for him.

"No!" Batman tumbled over him, pushing him out of harms way, and the two rolled partially down the street. Harley dropped onto Batman, and it was clear he was going to have to make a choice: fight of Harley, or protect the Joker. There was no way he could do both.

Okay. This time the Joker really was going to die.

But instead, he felt two arms close around him, and his body was completely shielded by Batman's, pressed between asphalt and Kevlar.

"Get off of me!"

"Stay down!"

"But-"

Batman went limp. The Joker tried to get out from under him, but he was heavy, and he couldn't seem to throw him off. He could hear fabric tearing- Harley had gotten to his neck.

"Bats?" he asked quietly. "Batsy? Batman?"

There was no answer. He was going to have to lay there and listen to Batman die. He was going to have to stay there, buried underneath Batman, until Harley either skipped away or decided she wanted his blood too. He didn't see a way out of this that didn't involve Batman dying before him. The man who had created the Joker was going to go first. He'd always known that one day they would probably go out together, but he always envisioned himself dying first, and Batman moments after. That way, he wouldn't have to go through- well, this.

The Joker suddenly realized that his eyes were wet. He blinked them furiously, as a weight vanished, and Harley started laughing, and then her the sounds faded as she sprinted away. The Joker started crying.

"Batman, please hear me, please don't be dead, there's still so much I have to do… Please, Batsy, please…" With all of his strength, he rolled over. He was on top of Batman now. He rested his head on his chest, on top of the now red Bat-symbol, and sobbed. He kissed his cold lips, salty with blood and tears, and finally wrenched off his mask and laid his cheek on his, not even caring about who this man was. He had made him, and then he had saved him, and now there wasn't any life in his perfect blue eyes.

"Please," the Joker whispered. "Please, Batman. For me. Please don't be dead."

He placed his hands over Batman's heart, and started pumping. Up and down. He had to get him to wake up, no matter what the cost. There was no way he was letting Batman die before him, he didn't get to have all the fun, and he was determined that he would get to see those cobalt blue eyes again, without spiderwebs in them.

Batman inhaled a ragged breath.

The Joker collapsed on top of, shaking with more tears, but he was smiling this time. "Thank you, thank God, thank you, thank-"

Batman stood up, the Joker sliding off of him and on to the ground. He stood up, legs weak. "You saved me, you're alive, you're not dead, I-"

He lunged at him. Joker screamed and dove backward. Batman was staring at him, eyes big and hungry.

They weren't red yet. The eyes turned red after they drank the blood.

He was infected.

The Joker closed his eyes, waiting for him to tear his throat out. He'd seen how the infected were, how they went crazy. He'd seen Red Hood fight off ten cops on the news before Batman and Nightwing finally managed to inject him and drag him away. He'd seen Harley, standing over her babies' bodies.

The Joker opened his eyes when he realized he was still alive. "B-Batman?"

The Batman took a hesitant step forward, then back.

"Bats?"

He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and said: "Three hundred."

"What?"

"Two hundred and ninety nine."

"What are you doing?"

Batman opened his eyes. "You have five minutes before I lose control. Two hundred and ninety eight. And counting calms me down. Two hundred and ninety seven. Two hundred and ninety six."

The Joker started towards him, then paused. "What do I do?"

"Get as far away as you can. Two hundred and ninety five."

"What about you?"

"Two hundred and ninety four."

"There are people around here!"

"Two hundred and ninety three. You make a good point. There are handcuffs in my belt. Two hundred and ninety two."

The Joker hurried over. "Where?"

"Don't know. Can't focus. Two hundred and ninety one."

"Okay." The Joker tried to remember where Batman usually pulled the handcuffs from, then reached for the compartment. He pulled out a pair of Bat-cuffs.

"Put them around my wrists. Two hundred and eighty nine."

Joker hastened to snap them around Batman's wrists then, after careful consideration, took his belt away. "Now what?"

"Two hundred and eighty five. You have to gag me. Two hundred and eighty four."

"O-okay." The Joker tore a piece of fabric off of his coat. "What'll I do with you?"

"Call for my car. There's a button on the belt. Two hundred and eighty three."

"What then?"

"Dick and Alfred will take care of me. Two hundred and eighty."

"I… don't know who those people are… are you sure they can handle you?"

"Positive. Two hundred and seventy nine."

"Well, I'm not."

"Fine. You decide what to do with me, then, I don't give a damn, so long as you don't- what number am I on again?"

"I don't know. Two hundred and seventy something?"

"What?"

"What?"

"I didn't hear that. Two hundred and what?"

"Sorry, I-" The Joker stepped closer, only for Batman to close the distance between them and knock him over, going for his neck. The Joker shouted.

"I thought you said you had five minutes!"

"I thought I did!" Batman wrapped his hands around the Joker's neck and squeezed, hiding the Joker's pale neck from view. "Gag me!"

The Joker diverted his attention from fighting Batman, and lifted up his arms. He shoved the wad of fabric into his mouth. Batman rolled off of him, trembling. The Joker fell on top of him again, near tears once more. Finally, he stood and helped Batman up.

"Come on. We're going to my house. You'll be safe there." Batman leaned on him, and kept walking. The Joker picked the cross up from where it had fallen, and Batman flinched. The Joker put it in his pocket. "Don't worry, I won't use it on you. Just don't attack me."

Batman sighed through his nose, and nodded. He said something around his gag. It sounded like "Two hundred and forty four." Maybe he hadn't really lost control yet. Maybe the bloodlust was that powerful.

What was he going to do with him? The hospitals for the infected weren't like the ones for vamps. In the infected's hospitals, they were all locked in solitary confinement. The Joker had seen news specials about institutions where the inmates were sometimes forgotten about, and were left in their cells for months on end, sometimes with no food or water. Or where the patients refused to eat but rather than risk transferring them to a real hospital, the guards let them starve. He'd seen one story about a guard who had been seduced by one of the prisoners- that's what they were, prisoners- and was torn apart.

No, his Bat was not going to one of those places. The Joker glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. Said Bat had a name: Bruce Wayne. So that was who the Batman was. It didn't even matter anymore, though, did it?

The Joker and Batman reached the old funhouse without blood being shed, and the Joker guided him down into the dark basement. "You can stay in here." He secured him to the handrail, then reached for the gag. He tore it out as quickly as possible. Batman- Bruce- blinked.

"You don't need to worry. I wouldn't hurt you."

"You wouldn't?"

"If I wanted you dead, you would be. I would never hurt you."

The Joker almost smiled. And then Batman spoke again: "You don't need to handcuff me. You can unlock them, now."

Oh. The Joker's heart snapped. He shook his head. "That won't work on me."

"I wouldn't attack you! I care about you! You're my other half, remember? I would never hurt you!"

The Joker closed his eyes. "That's what Harley said. And then she killed Bud and Lou."

"You're hyenas? I'm so sorry. But I wouldn't do that, not to you. You complete me. I couldn't live without you. We have to find Harley. Uncuff me, and we can track her down. She killed Commissioner Gordon. She infected Jason. We have to stop her."

The Joker realized he was still clutching Batman's belt, and started to rifle through it.

"What are you doing? You need to uncuff me!"

"Is the key in here?"

"Yes," Batman said, a look of excitement creeping onto his face. "Left compartment, right next to where I stored them. We'll make a great team. I always thought we would. We're quite similar, the two of us. Almost exactly alike. Two sides of the same coin."

The Joker nodded. "If we're going to hunt Harley down, I need to know where you keep your special gas."

"What gas?"

"The vampire away spray. Whatever it is. I might need to use it on her."

"It's by the buckle, to the right. You can find it. You're very smart." The Joker pulled out the canister of spray.

"How does it work?"

"It's garlic and holy water, really simple, actually. If you were helping me, we could come up with something much better. We'll be a good team. Come on, uncuff me."

The Joker lifted the canister in front of Bruce's eyes. "Are you in there at all?" he demanded, his voice cracking.

Batman stared at him for a moment, looking confused, and then shocked, then betrayed. Then he shook his head, and grit his teeth.

"Do it. You don't have much time."

The Joker sprayed him. Batman yelled, and then went limp. The Joker dropped the canister and pulled a table over to the middle of the room. He lugged Batman over and laid him down on top of it, and yanked off his gloves, and his boots too, for good measure. Batman could hide his gadgets anywhere.

Out of nowhere, the Joker started to worry about the temperature. He sprinted upstairs, and found some slippers and gloves, then went back into the basement and put them on Batman. Then, he tied his wrists and his ankles to the corners of the table. There was no way he could escape that not without his gadgets.

The Joker went through the belt, pulling out all the vamp-away spray he could find, and made sure he found a safe location for all the pairs of Bat-cuffs and keys. Then he ran down to the river and dropped the belt in it.

"Sorry," he whispered, and with his cross in hand, the Joker sprinted home.