Chapter 3
At first, the dream is familiar, if not comforting.
It's an image out of Rockwell painting, 'Family Leaving the Movies', father dressed in a jacket and tie, mother wearing dress with pearls, son walking between them, eyes filled with innocence.
Then two men come out of the shadows, both with pistols out, there faces still unrecognizable to him, even though he's been seeing them in his mind's eyes for decades.
The reactions of his parents are always the same, his father reaching into his pocket for his wallet, his mother preparing to give the men their purses. Their expression were fearful but still calm, and even in his dream like state, he wonders what did they do, what silent unseen signal did his parents give to make them trigger what came next.
As always the questions remain unanswered, and are ultimately irrelevant. The results are all that matter. Whatever the reason, both robbers fire. He sees the bullets emerge from the gun, and then Thomas and Martha Wayne are lying on the ground
He tries to force himself into wakefulness, part of him knowing what new horror is coming. But, just like the earlier parts of this dream had plagued him for years, he can not rouse himself.
Bruce turns to his parents--- and sees that they are not yet dead. Their breathing is shallow and their lifeblood flowing out of them at a horrifying rate, but they still live.
'There's still time."
He looks to his left. Inexplicably, the robbers are still there. One has knelt so that his face is level with the boy whose life he has just destroyed. The face is no longer menacing; now it seems almost gentle.
"Do you want them to live?"
He can not place the voice. He knows that he has heard it before, but he can not tell where. More to the point, he doesn't care. He knows that he should know better--- these people just shot his parents, for God's sakes--- but the reason of his adult mind has gone.
All that is present now is the simple yearning of a boy.
"Yes." How innocent his voice is.
Now the voice is different; it's full of authority. "Then you must choose."
"What?"
"You can only save one. There isn't time for both."
Even in the murkiness of his subconscious, Bruce somehow knows that this was a lie. But the harder, unemotional part of him that knows this doesn't function here--- perhaps there is no Batman to harness it.
It is the child's voice that answers. "I--I can't."
"You must." The voice is still gentle but now Bruce can detect a hint of menace. He tries to turn away from it, only to be staring at his parents bodies. Their breathing is fainter now--- soon the decision will be superfluous.
He agonizes over this for what seems to be an eternity. Finally, he decides. '"My d-dad."
There is no hesitation in what happens next. The other burglar, invisible until now, stands back over his father.
"Th--thank you," he says. Only then does he look back at the first robber--- and renewed horror fills his being. For his visage is now that of an undead monster.
"You did this Bruce" the monster tells him with added cruelty. "We needed your permission."
And as the other robber, now with the same ridged nose and fangs, buries his teeth into Thomas Wayne's neck, the nightmare flies apart.
Even after all the horrors he has seen, not since the earliest days of his childhood had Bruce Wayne woken up to the sound of his own screams. He hadn't done so tonight, either, but he still felt that he had been dangerously close.
As had been the case for the past three weeks his sheets were soaked through with perspiration. Only Alfred would notice the difference, and being the quintessential gentleman's gentleman he would not mention it. He knew the nightmares were not uncommon to the man who wore the mantle of Batman.
Yet not even Alfred knew the details of the nightmare that had been plaguing Bruce for the past twenty-two days. Furthermore, he knew enough psychiatry to know that what was happening to him was not normal, and shouldn't be possible.
The nightmare was progressing, and every few days, it seemed that new parts of the dream were coming. Two weeks ago, the robber had asked his first question. A week later, his dream self had been asked to make the decision about who to save. And it was only three days ago that his would be well-wisher had revealed he was a vampire.
Nor did Bruce believe that this would be the end of it. This dream--- and he knew that there was more to it than this, he just couldn't say what---- was not finished. It was still building to its climax, and what happened after that he didn't want to consider.
What he could consider was the effect the dream was having on his ability to gain any rest from the precious few hours that he devoted to sleep each day. He was already running pretty close to empty at it was. The Joker's liberation from Gotham two days ago had put him on high alert for thirty -six straight hours before he had been "ordered" home to bed. However, this latest version of the nightmare had drained what little rest he had gained, and he knew from past experience that there would be little point in trying to fall back asleep.
He couldn't help but draw the horrible parallels to what had happened before Bane had nearly destroyed him. Soon the exhaustion would overcome his resistance, and then he would be no good to anyone. The police were starting to suspect, Barbara and Tim had stopped short of asking him at least once over the past week, and---
It was then Bruce really noticed for the first time the woman who had been sharing his bed a few hours ago was no longer in it. This, more than anything else, should have screamed to him that he was in need of help. If his powers of observation had diminished to the point that he couldn't tell who'd been sleeping in his bed, then he was just a short hop away from being all but useless on either side of his work.
Shaking his head, he went to slip on a robe. He had a good idea where she was going to be.
It took a lot to surprise a Slayer, but Faith had to admit she'd been a little taken aback when Andrew had raised what should have been an elementary question little more than a year ago.
'"This is a pretty exhausting job, and I'm little more than an apprentice watcher," he had begun. "I' know I'm relatively new to all this, but I don't have the restorative powers that you do. I need some sleep."
"There's nothing new about that," Faith said with an awkward bit of compassion--- this was still a new emotion for her., "You're only human."
"So are you. So was Buffy., and in all the years I've known either of you, you've never looked tired which is odd, considering that you have jobs in the morning and do your real work all night long," Andrew told her. "When the hell do you sleep?"
"Slayers don't need much rest,": she reminded him.
"Yeah, but you're not Superman no matter how strong you are," he reminded her. "Believe me, I've done the research. The human body can only be alert for so long before it starts to collapse in on itself.. Now I know we've had long days battles against monsters, and that fight we had when Spike and Jasmine got revived was a full day thing, but those kinds of things are the rule, not the exception. So I ask again: when do you sleep?"
Perhaps the reminder, however, brief, of the battle that had ultimately taken Robin Wood's life had sobered her up, and she didn't try to joke it off. "B always told me that she grabbed her sleep between two or three and would rest til dawn," she began "Then again, she always had these wicked ideas about having to go to school or work. I always felt that these things were kind of baggage. I was a slay all night, sleep most of the morning kind of girl. Then again, doing nothing but living the life kind of helped get me into Folsom, so maybe I'm not the best example of how to balance the two."
"So have you made any changes?"
"Considering that every cop in this city still gives me the stink eye when I make my appearances in public, I think it's best if I don't make any appearances before dark," she had honestly. "Besides, it's not like I have to fake being normal here."
Andrew had let the matter drop without asking the automatic follow-up: Do you share your bed with anyone? Then again, maybe Andrew hadn't thought like this because the only people he shared his bed with were action figures. Faith had gotten to know him in the past year or so to find his innocence charming in a way.
Careful girl, she thought. Next you'll be selling Girl Scout cookies and making friendship bracelets.
Faith didn't know how exactly she'd ended up in Bruce's bed. The physical reason for her was obvious---- still sexually charged after slaying after all these years. She also understood slightly Batman's attraction to her--- according to Barbara, he had a thing for women who were morally ambiguous (Barbara was enough of a lady to not say dirty girls), and she knew that some men were drawn to women like her. Barbara also mentioned something about women like Faith and leather, but even the Slayer didn't catch that reference.
Her problem came from whose bed she woke up in. She was screwing Batman, but she woke up in Bruce's house. She knew something about having a dual identity, but she thought that Batman's problem was one either he hadn't realized, or, more likely, knew about and was doing his damnedest to ignore it. He might say that Batman was his alter ego, and Bruce Wayne was his real name, but Faith knew that it was the other way around. He might be trying to create a Gotham that didn't need Batman, but Faith knew Bruce needed him more than Gotham did.
She also knew that whatever face he was wearing, Batman would sooner have a profile done on him on Dateline rather than reveal any of this to her. She could have told him that she knew far better than most that if you played this close to vest, you were likely to go dark, and that he had been on the borderline between dark and light so long he probably had to blink all the time to tell the difference. But again, this would be old news.
Her problem was that while she was comfortable enough with Batman, she had very little use for Bruce Wayne. Under any other circumstances (and not that long ago) after finishing her business, she would've left by the nearest exit, instead of hanging around in the drawing room (Or living room--- she wasn't an interior designer). Frankly, the only room in the manor she was comfortable in was in the Batcave, but she knew that he didn't like people wandering around in there even if they did know it existed.
"Is it really that unbearable to share your bed with someone?"
She known him a year and it still was kind of unsettling how quiet he could be.
"It's not you, it's me," Faith rolled her eyes. "I've always wanted to use that line."
"We've been doing this for awhile; I'd think I'd earned a little courtesy."
"It's the truth," Faith admitted. "I dress like a pro, I fuck like a pro, I get any more comfortable I might as well be Julia Roberts. We'll ignore that the couch I'm sleeping on cost more than my last apartment. Normal women would have problems like that."
When he was in public, Bruce Wayne tried to smile every few minutes, as it was part of the public persona. Faith knew both sides of him well enough to know that he never felt comfortable doing it. When he was in private, his smiles were even rarer. And even though she was pretty sure that this one generous, it still looked pasted on. Then again, what reasons had he ever had to smile?
"I'd think that by now that you'd be over the problems with your self-esteem," he started.
"B-Man you know my story well enough," she countered. "I've gotten to a point in my life that I can be comfortable with who I am. Can you say as much?"
"What are you talking about?"
"My point is simple," Faith looked at the clock on the fireplace. "I finally managed to get you to turn off the hunt for the Joker at four in the morning. We get back here, we take care of business, we head to dreamland. It's now 6:14. Based on the schedule that you put in the last few days," she gave a smile, "and the little workout I put you through, you should've been out for the count for at least another hour and a half.."
"I could say the same thing about you." Batman countered.
"Ah, but I have two things that you don't--- Slayer regenerative powers and nothing to do in the morning and afternoon. And considering the very active schedule Mr. Wayne has, he needs his rest more than I do."
Faith knew Batman didn't like speaking of Bruce in the third person (even though she knew he did it all the time) but this was one of several aspects of her personality that he had given up trying to change. That was the least of his problems tight now.
"I'm little stressed out by the fact that the Joker has been liberated," he began.
Faith was itching for an argument about how Batman had handled the Joker, but this would raise questions that she thought were probably close to his mind right now anyway "Joker's bad news, I grant you, " she acknowledged, "and I know that I practically had to hogtie you in order to get you into bed in the first place, but the last time you were chasing the Joker non-stop, it nearly got you killed. I'd like to think you learned from that."
"You know the regiment that I keep enables me to function on little rest---"
"Which would be fine if you were getting it," she countered. "Just because I don't spend all night in your bedroom, doesn't mean that I haven't picked up on your sleeping habits, and this isn't the first time you've rolled out of bed this early." Off his look, she went on. "Don't worry, Alfred didn't give you up. I'm just a little more observant than people give me credit for."
"I never underestimate you, Faith," Batman said.
"Then give me the real reason you're up."
"You're not telling me that the things you've done don't give you problems sleeping?"
"When you've seen as much blood spilled as we have, it's often hard to imagine ever being able to close your eyes," she said. "And even when you've got the added boosts of having Slayer powers, the nightmares aren't something your prepared for."
"Then I think you'd allow for the possibility that I have the same kind of problems," Batman said.
That's where you and I are different, B-Man," she had told him in that mocking veneer she used to mask her feelings. "I need the nightmares. I need to remember the people I've destroyed and ruined. I was bad to the bone once. The nightmares and guilt are the cost of keeping me sane. Where as you---- you've got a relatively clear conscience--- at least compared to most of the people I know. When you have a bad dream, it's always about somewhere you think that you failed. I have to accept the things that I've done wrong, and my excuse was that I misused my powers. You, despite all the power you've got, are not. You have to accept your failings or they'll end up gutting you."
Even as she spoke to him, Faith wondered if she was getting through. She respected Batman, she would even (privately) admit to being more concerned about him then almost everyone else she'd worked with, good or evil. But, in one vital way, Bruce was dangerously like Buffy in that she kept her own council, almost to the point of isolating herself from everyone who cared about her. She had gotten a lot closer to him than all but a handful of people had, but she had a feeling that, like them, she would always be on the outside looking in. And while that had been her samurai code a few years ago, she knew better than anyone how very dangerous that was
"All right, Faith."
She could see the barest of twitches of the muscles on Batman's face. For a moment, she thought that she might be about to get through to him. Then the mask--- even without the cowl, it was always there--- was back up again.
"I'll admit I've got demons--- figurative and literal, and they have given me problems, but considering the situation, I don't have the luxury of spending the next few days contemplating them. We have to find Drusilla and the Joker before she does whatever it is she was planning on doing to the city."
Faith considered another eye roll. "Either you're more exhausted than you've been letting on, or I haven't been that clear with my reminders. Drusilla is just a problem, like the Joker is a problem." She held up her hand. "A big oneI grant you, but still not the real one. Dru has the nasty habit of being manipulated by powers much greater than herself. Which I imagine is exactly what's happening here. Someone led her into St. Horace, someone told her not to make a mess while extracting the Mr. Smiley Face., and someone else has given her a place to hide. We need to figure out who. The rest will come from there."
"I've been working on that," Batman told her.
Faith now knew Batman well enough to know that as far as he was concerned, the sleep matter had been tabled. She decided to go along with this because there were other issues and they had to deal with them before whatever was going to happen moved into the next phase
. "What've you got?" she asked as he sat next to her and took out a laptop.
"Even if Drusilla did get her information about St. Horace from the stars, the stars wouldn't have given her the code to the Joker's room. As one of the priorities of securing that place , they used a ten-digit pass-code that was changed every twenty-four hours."
"Newsflash, there a hundred ways to get past those kind of codes without electronics, " Faith reminded him. "Right magic spell, and all doors are open to you."
"Except that we had the floor wired for sound, and she never uttered a single word of magic," Batman pointed out. "From what you told me, Dru doesn't have the kind of power to just wave her hand and unchain locks."
In fact, Faith wasn't entirely sure that the vampire couldn't do just that, but again she had no proof and she knew better than to interrupt the Bat when he was moving through a train of thought—she wasn't worried about derailing the train of thought as being run over by it. "Have you found something that would prove me wrong?" she asked instead.
"The fire at the chemical plant caused a lot of casualties to show up at the ER the hour before your girl walked in," he told her. "Almost the entire medical staff was called in while they were getting things under control. However, according to the medical logs, one doctor who worked that night didn't see a single patient. Not strange in of itself, but he was also the only man in the ER at the time who knew that the Joker was really the patient on the fifth floor."
"I'll admit that's a pretty big coincidence," Faith said, "and much like leprechauns I don't generally believe in them, but it's not enough to make him our guy.."
"What about that he has a criminal record?" Batman punched some keys and a man's face came up. "Dr. Peter White, formerly of Boston, charged with prescribing Vicodin without a prescription in 1995. Received probation. Also charged with sexual assaults of two female doctors on staff in 1996, found not guilty."
"How'd a sick fuck like him end up practicing medicine here?." Faith asked
"His license was suspended in Massachusetts, which no doubt inspired him to relocate. Once he moved here, he sued the AMA to get his license back and won."
"I guess the people you hired to watch that place didn't do as good a job as they could've in doing background checks on staff."
A line appeared on Batman's forehead for a moment, and quickly disappeared. "It does seem odd that a guy with that big a warning sign slipped under the radar," he admitted.
"In any case, the fact that he may have helped them get the codes doesn't mean he'll have any idea where to find Drusilla," she argued reasonably. "Even on her best day, I doubt that she could remain coherent long enough to keep him fooled."
"Maybe, but right now, its our best lead."
"You mean, it's your best lead." Off Batman's look, Faith replied.: "I know my place in Gotham, B-Man, and shaking down human beings, no matter how despicable they are, is not the kind of thing I do any more, especially when the police are against me. You're the one with the crack team in this town, have them do it."
One of his eyebrows went up. "And what are you going to be doing?"
""Follow the trail of blood," she told him bluntly. "Whether or not Dru's under anyone else's power, she's going to want to see Spike. The whole mother-child thing, which goes alongside the whole screwing matter." Faith grimaced as she finished getting dressed. "I gotta tell you, that whole relationship has me a little creeped out, and I've been dealing with this shit for seven years."
"What does that have to do with---"
"Dru's been out of touch with Spike so long , she probably doesn't know tbat he has a soul now. Even if she does, she knows the easiest way to get his attention is with a pile of corpses. Dick told me that there's been an increase in the amount of the dead homeless. That's where I'm going to start looking."
"Now?" Batman asked.
"No, now I'm going back to my apartment to get some much needed sleep because I've had such a long night," Faith told him, a smile flickering across her face. "I'd advise you to do the same, but since we both know what a waste of time that would be, I'll settle for reminding you--- the Joker's most likely still a cabbage, Dru can't do much in the daytime, and that you have other people to carry the load. So make sure that Bruce Wayne doesn't have that strenuous a day?"
She blew him a kiss, and passed by Alfred, who look immaculate as always even though he had gotten up just a few minutes earlier. "Keep an eye on him, will you?"
"As always, Faith," he said as she passed by.
Bruce waited until she was gone to look at his loyal manservant. "Do I sense a conspiracy here?" he asked with the barest trace of humor.
"I hate to think that care for your well being should be reduced to the level of a devious plot, Master Bruce," Alfred said with reproach. "Unless, of course, there is a special need for concern?"
Bruce had less trouble being open to the man who had essentially raised him. "At the moment, there isn't," he said honestly enough.
"And later?" Alfred was the master of tactful concern.
"Let us hope it doesn't come to that."
