COOKIE DOUGH 5: Dark Knight of the Soul

A Buffy/Batman crossover

By David Morris and Allan Yoskowitz

Summary: When an invasion of the undead hits Gotham City, Angel-Slayer sends Faith, Andrew and Spike to clean things up. But Commissioner Gordon and Batman do not welcome them with open arms.

Rating: PG-13, possibly R for graphic violence

Disclaimer: The characters of Faith, Andrew and Spike, along with the rest of the team at Angel-Slayer are the property of Joss Whedon and all the other brilliant writers at Mutant Enemy. The characters of Batman, Robin and all of the other residents of Gotham are the property of DC Comics and their staff. We make no claim to them nor will they ever in any way, shape or form belong to us. We are merely borrowing them.

Spoilers: Not much for the Buffy-verse. This is an alternate universe taking place after the series finale of Buffy and the season 4 finale of Angel. However it would definitely have helped matters if you had read my earlier stories Cookie Dough 1 through 4, all of which are available at I'm not sure what spoilers there are for the Batman universe but we will figure that out as we go to.

Note: With the exception of the first chapter, the entire story will be set in Gotham City. Most of the characters in the Buffy-verse will only be passing through. If the world of Batman is not your cup of tea, exit the cabin now. Otherwise, buckle up….

Prologue

A wise man (to be truthful, he wasn't exactly a man, but that's neither here nor there…) once said we don't always recognize the big moments when we see them. That is, assuming that we can even be bothered to look up from our everyday lives. It is a matter of record that George III of England in his journals for July 4, 1776 wrote: "Nothing important happened today." There were few headlines in the national papers when the Wright Brothers created the airplane. And, when the entire population of a small town in Southern California departed mere days before the entire city 'sank' into the ground, no major network reported it, or the other strange feats that had happened in the town in previous years.

So, on August 27, 2003, the night that Gotham changed forever, there were no banner headlines, television broadcasts or police reports. The only person who witnessed the historic (or perhaps infamous might be the better word) was an insignificant, unremarkable hoodlum named Bobby Kilbane, who probably had no idea of the magnitude of what he was witnessing. This was only appropriate; after all, for almost his entire life, no one had really noticed him.

In a city that was full of some of the most notorious criminals and arch-villains, Bobby barely registered on anyone's radar. His rap-sheet consisted of one count of petty larceny and possession of an illegal firearm--- which on the streets of Gotham made him practically a virgin. The police didn't think a great deal of Bobby, and the underworld of Gotham thought even less. He was a small-time stickup man in a big-time city, with no links or ties to any of the major crime bosses or 'less savory' felons that the city was famous for.

Bobby didn't smoke, drink, or use controlled substances. If anyone bothered to ask him why, he would say his parents had believed the body was a temple. No one bothered to ask him about the contradiction between his occupation and his hygiene because no one really cared about him at all.

He did have one vice, however. Bobby liked to play the ponies. That was an expensive hobby – especially if your main source of income came from other people's wallets. So it was that Bobby had made the acquaintance of several low-level loan sharks and bookies. One thing had led to another, until finally Bobby owed nearly thirty thousand dollars to various parties.

This being Gotham, the men he owed the money to had expressed their dismay (at his lack of repayment) in the usual methods, and, as a result, Bobby was walking the streets with three broken fingers and two broken toes. Those same gentlemen had made it very clear that if he did not come up with the money, and soon, larger and more important parts of him would be broken.

That was why Bobby had been on the streets of Gotham that night, attempting to ply his trade on some of the less fortunate citizens of the city.

Needless to say, he was having not a good night. For one thing, Gotham was a city which in, as a rule, people were more vigilant on the streets than the usual. For another, it isn't easy to sneak up on someone when you are walking with a pronounced limp.

Bobby was more than a little distracted. He was an unpleasant person, no question, but the gentlemen he had pissed off were far nastier and much crueler than he was. Also, he was afraid one of them was working for the Maroni family, one of Gotham's more unpleasant cartels.

As a matter of fact, one of them was. As a further matter of mact, it didn't make much difference. The individuals he was about to encounter were deadly enough to make the Mob seem like candy stripers.

Bobby had no idea of that, though. All he thought of was that there was a well-dressed woman standing by a car with the hood open. She was practically begging to be robbed, and she looked rich. The pendant around her neck looked like it was silver. He might be able to get four or five C for it, easy. Add that to the four he already had, and he would finally have enough for a good bet on the fourth at Pimloco.

That his plans had led him to the condition he was in now never once occurred to him. He had never believed in planning for the 'long-term', as his ex-girlfriend had kept trying to get him to. Even if she had been right about that, anyway, robbing this stupid woman (who was dumb enough to be out on the Gotham streets this late at night) was a sure thing.

He decided he would try the approach of the 'helpful stranger'. He wasn't sure it would work, this late, but it was less conspicuous, and it would give him a better chance of taking the car with him when he cleaned the stupid bitch out.

"Good Evening." Bobby said as he walked toward the car. "You look as you could use some help."

"Oh, thank the lord, "the woman said. "My cell is dead, and my husband hasn't come back yet. "

"Where'd he go?"

"Somewhere off that way," She pointed down the block, not seeming to be really certain. "He was looking for a pay phone so we could call a garage and get the car towed. It's been twenty minutes, and I'm beginning to worry that something might have happened to him."

If, perhaps, Bobby had been a little brighter, warning bells would have started to go off in his head. To anyone with any intelligence who was watching, it would have been clear that there was something strange going on. The woman's behavior was too perfect. It was too practiced, as if she were acting out a part.

Bobby wasn't that bright, though, and he was too focused on getting the job done. "You said twenty minutes?" he asked.

"I think it's been twenty minutes, yes." She looked at her watch (nothing there, just a Timex…)

"It's a little late for you to be out around here."

"Well, we just drove here from the coast." She looked around. "This is a nice neighborhood."

Bobby looked around, a little nervous now. They were right near 'Crime Alley'. The area was full of low-rent brick apartment buildings, homeless people and petty thugs. "You think it's nice around here?" he asked, a little uncertain.

"Well, it all depends on your perspective, to be honest." She looked over at him. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

He hooked his coat pocket with his thumb, getting ready to pull the knife he carried. "What do you want to know?"

"Do you mind if I---- --- have a drink?"

He didn't hear her finish the question. All his attention was focused on her face. It had changed – there was a ridge on her nose, her eyes had moved closer together. And… in her mouth… fangs.

There were fangs in her mouth.

I have to run, he thought. He took a step back---

--- And bumped in to someone else. A moment later he found himself held in place by a pair of impossibly strong hands, and a moment after that, teeth sinking in to his neck. After that, nothing more.

When they had finished with him, the male burped greedily. "It never gets old, does it?" he said.

She did not answer him, instead moving to pick the corpse up off of the ground.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "We can leave him there. They find what they'd call 'strange' dead bodies around here all the time."

"We don't want to tip our hand just yet." she answered him. "The longer that no one knows we're in town, the better for us." She carried the body to the car's trunk.

"I cannot believe that moron fell for that 'lost stranger' crap," he chortled.

"People can be very stupid when they want something." She picked up the knife she had found in her would-be rescuer's coat. "Especially when they're criminals."

"A metropolis filled with abandoned buildings and sewer drains," the male spoke gleefully. "…A high crime area with killers to take the rap for every person that disappears." He turned to his companion, smiling, fangs bared. "This city is the perfect place for us and our friends to call home."