Chapter Two: Psychological Torture Sounds Lovely

Just like relationships between the living, relationships between vampire sires and children are greatly varied. Some vampires prefer to sire and run, leaving their offspring to fend for themselves. Others sire as a way of getting revenge on certain people, or to have an extremely durable individual to use as a punching bag. Some sires take the time to mentor their offspring, guiding them during those first few months or even years when a new vampire is still becoming accustomed to unlife and is still in the grips of an almost-mindless bloodlust. Such mentors inspire depths of loyalty in vampires that few humans feel towards their own kind.Such vampires would go to any lengths to serve their mentors, protecting them and making certain that their plans are successful and that their 'dreams' come true.Some do this even after their bonds with their mentor have been shattered.

Dala sighed in frustration as she stormed out of the warehouse. She had heard a commotion, and the Joker's laughter. She had only been in his company for a few days before his obvious insanity became apparent. She had known his reputation, but if anything it failed to capture the truth of the man. Her mission required the most delicate of planning. She was not happy that she had to go to Sunnydale. It was too soon for that. Unfortunately fate, or the Powers, or the Presence, or whatever had required it. She hoped that she and the Joker could stay under the Slayer's radar because she wasn't ready for a confrontation yet. She needed a Slayer, and didn't fancy having to break into a prison to get the other one. After all, rumour held the other one to be even more of a pain than the free one. Besides, that sort of action would attract unwanted attention.

Finding the leaders of a few decent sized vampire groups had been quite easy, and killing their leaders even easier. She had gathered a force of acceptable size to match the Joker and his reserves. She was now making sure that each and every single vampire among them knew who was in charge. The commotion outside drew her attention away from that. Sighing to herself, she made her way outside. Humans just could not be trusted to handle anything unsupervised.

The sight before her filled her with horror. The Joker was standing triumphantly over the body of a young blond woman who had evidently just received a dose of Smilex. A number of the Joker's men lay unconscious around them. (Oh no… not…) She felt her face transform, revealing her true nature, but she fought to resume a more human appearance. Strictly speaking, the Joker was unnecessary to her plan but vital to her revenge. She still needed him.

"What happened?" she said in a strangled tone as she marched over to her accomplice.

"The little girl here showed me that I need tougher help," the Joker smirked. "I had to thank her."

Dala stared down. Blond hair, a cross hanging from her neck, a claddagh ring on her right index finger, the unmistakable outline of a stake in her clothes… damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!

She had a plan in place to retrieve Faith in case that became necessary. Now it- wait. She glanced down at the figure. The Joker opened his mouth but she silenced him by placing a finger on his lips. Yes! The Slayer is breathing. Not only is she breathing but she's taking the slow, shallow breaths that one takes when trying to hide. Dala smirked and gestured down to the woman at her feet. The Joker's eyes widened then narrowed. "Well," he growled, "I'll fix tha-aat!"

The Slayer's arms lashed out and swept both the Joker and Dala to the ground. She stood up, face still contorted into a rictus grin, and bolted at top speed into the night.

The Joker cursed as he got to his feet but Dala had to smile. So this is the current Slayer. She had met a number in her time but none of them had the sense of strategy to play dead let alone the common sense to realize when their ruse had been discovered.

She considered sending her vampires after the Slayer but the girl was already long gone. The girl would be all the harder to surprise although Dala had every confidence that the Slayer would be hers when the time was right. "Forget about her!" Dala told the angry Joker. "I will deal with her later. In the meantime, we have the museum layout."

"Shpedoinkle!" Xander Harris proclaimed as he looked at Buffy. He started pacing again. It was unbelievable. In six years nothing like this had ever happened. The superheroes and supervillains left them alone. In one night the deadliest supervillain of them all shows up and Buffy barely survives an attack that had a better than 99 kill rate. "Shpedoinkle!"

"The Joker? Here?" Willow Rosenberg asked. "How? Why? What does he want?" She was seated at the computer, and she had googled Smilex. The stuff's chemical composition was on the net. In a bizarre way it was fine. Nobody but the Joker was crazy enough to use that stuff. People that did without having the Joker's express permission died in really gruesome ways. She hoped to find some kind of a cure to help Buffy's… condition… but so far nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Ditto on the nada, zilch, zip concerning anything that the Joker might be after. There isn't anything famous or expensive in Sunnydale just now.

"I didn't get a chance to ask him that, Wills," Buffy said patiently as she massaged her face. She could feel her facial muscles loosen up. Hopefully she wouldn't be looking like she had an overdose of laughing gas for long.

"This is bad," Tara Maclay muttered. "This is very bad." She had grown up far away from super-types, but as a child her father would point out any number of supervillains and tell her that if she didn't do what he said then she would become just like them. The Joker was one of his most commonly used examples. It had taken her years to realize what utter crap that was. It took even more years before she discovered that she wasn't a demon at all. Even so, costumed villains still scared her. Her father was lying about her supposedly demonic nature, but the potential for evil was in her, just like it was in everyone.

Dawn Summers didn't say anything. She just sat beside her sister on the couch and put an arm around her. She had already lost Buffy once and wasn't keen on losing her again.

"Forget it," Buffy said in disgust. Her hands were starting to get tired. She stood up and went to the phone. She dialed a number.

"Hi, this is- oh, he's not in? Can you tell him to call Buffy as soon as possible please? Tell him it's urgent. Yes. Thank you." She hung up the phone, sat down and started massaging her face again in frustration.

"Giles?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah," Buffy scowled, or would have if she could. "His housekeeper says he's out for the morning."

"What does the Clown Prince of Crime want?" Xander asked the room.

"'The Clown Prince of Crime'?" everyone asked back.

"They call him that," Xander said defensively.

"Only in those trashy superhero magazines," Willow snorted. But it was a good question. "There isn't anything here that jumps out," she said after a few minutes. "Nothing involving clowns, or anything big at all."

"I've heard rumours that he sold his soul a couple years ago," Tara said. "Maybe I could contact the spirit world, find out what he wants."

"I'd appreciate that, Tara," Buffy said.

Willow tensed. It wasn't long ago that she would have helped out with that. Hell, it wasn't long ago that she wouldn't have gone ahead and done it herself. She knew the perfect spell, too. The words formed in her mind, but she fought herself until they faded. No. She had decided to take a break from magic, which is what she would do- if only to keep the others off her back, and to keep Tara happy.

"Do you think we should try to call the cops?" Dawn asked.

"They can't even handle demons, Dawnie," Xander told her. "If they investigated this they'd be making huge smiley faces."

"I meant the Gotham Police," Dawn said a little irritably. "They handle him all the time."

"The thought crossed my mind," Buffy admitted, "but I don't wanna tell them how I found his hideout. Just imagine how that would go over. They can't even work with Batman, and Giles once told me he's probably human."

"Calling in an expert isn't a bad idea," Tara said thoughtfully.

"See?" Dawn told her sister.

"Actually I meant Batman." Tara went over to Willow. "I know you're rusty, but do you think you can get a hold of him, sweetie?"

"I can try but I wouldn't know where to look. I mean, we could maybe take out an ad in the Gotham Gazette, or maybe try to contact the Justice League, but I don't think they've ever actually admitted that he's with them."

"Stupid, considering everybody knows he is," Xander snorted.

"You mean the same way everybody in Sunnydale knows about the monsters?"

"Good point."

"Why did you call Giles?" Dawn asked Buffy.

"He's still my Watcher, sort of. The Council probably has something on all the big-time supervillains like the Joker."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I don't handle human problems, but this is so out of the norm I have to. The Joker kills people. I save them."

Dala's lip curled at her surroundings. The room she was in was filled with human youths eagerly eyeing the door into the owner's inner sanctum. Their desperation filled the room. Ignoring them all, she strode towards the door.

"Hey!" one of them, a trembling male youth, shouted. "Wait your turn!"

Dala's face shifted and her true nature became evident to the youths. As she expected, they became concerned but their need dwarfed their sense of self-preservation. Some like the boy that accosted her even looked eager, obviously hoping to make a mark for themselves by destroying a vampire that dared invade their master's place. Others even looked confident, obviously thinking that they could destroy her. Dala sneered. She had great respect for true mages, but the specimens before her were children who allowed themselves to become addicted to easy power.

"You will all leave this place at once," she told them in an even tone. "I have business with your master and that business is more important than yours. You will leave now or I will kill you." She turned and went to open the door. She felt… something brush her back. Dala smirked in anticipation. She had warned them.

She broke out of the restraint with contemptuous ease and stalked towards the youth. In one fluid movement she grabbed him and sank her fangs into his neck. She heard the sound of a stampede. Pity. These children deserved death. When she was done with him she let him fall to the ground. She turned back to the door only to see it open. Two more children dashed out past her.

"Was that really necessary?" Rack drawled as he emerged into his lobby. "He was one of my better customers."

"The Chalice," Dala spat. "Now."

"Impatient are we?"

"I am on a schedule as you know."

"So I do. Follow me."

Rack led her into a deceptively simple looking room. He reached into his pocket and removed a key. He raised his hand into the air and let go of the key. The key turned and a gateway into darkness appeared. Rack stuck his hand into it and pulled out the object Dala had sought for many years. "A Chalice of Life," Rack said as he handed it to her. "I assume you have his dust."

"I do," Dala said as she took the Chalice. After all this time, after the years of searching and planning, she felt as if her goal truly was in sight. It was a good feeling. "I also have a proposition for you."

"Not interested."

Dala looked at him in disgust. "You haven't heard it yet."

"I don't need to. I've finally paid off my debt to your sire so I don't want to see you here ever again."

"It involves making a superhero's life a living hell," Dala said.

That stopped him. "I'm listening," he told her, interest sparking in his eyes.

The Sunnydale Museum of Antiquities did not impress the Joker at all. He had been to some of the best that the world had to offer. This piddly little thing couldn't even hope to compare.

Then again it could be like the rest of the town was. He did some checking before he and the boys came here. He knew how to read between the lines of the lies that people told to convince themselves that there really was purpose and order to the world, so he knew that sleepy little Sunnydale was neck-in-neck with Gotham as murder capital of the United States. He would never have guessed. He still didn't believe it until he had personally seen all of Sunnydale's nine large graveyards.

The Joker was impressed, and pleased. It warmed his heart to know that people were dying in a place that none of those revolting spandex-clad do-gooders had ever heard of. It restored its faith in humanity. Of course, there was that one meta girl around but even if she was active the death rate was still deliciously high.

He had planned to do this the quiet way, but that didn't fit his style or his mood. "Boys," he called, "shoot the doors!"

He walked into the museum and faced the stunned guards. Some of them just gawked, and but a few of them recognized them for who he was.

"Drop your weapons!" One of them shouted.

"Drop yours," the Joker purred as his men took their positions.

"That's the Joker, you idiot," one of the other guards hissed. Slowly, they did as they were told. The Joker sneered. If they had fought they might have had a chance, but these idiots, like most of the other guards he had encountered, apparently had a tendency to do what strange looking people in costumes told them to do.

"You make it so easy," the Joker laughed as he moved out of the way. His men started shooting.

The Joker giggled at the screams of the dying as he headed to the exhibit. He found what he was looking for very quickly. He shot the display case and removed his prize.

"It's all yours, boys!" he crowed as he returned to the main hall. The men grinned as they went to ransack the museum, taking whatever they wanted. The Joker looked down. He saw that a few of the buggers were still breathing. Well, we can fix that.

The Joker's thugs shuddered as they heard the raucous laughter coming from the main hall. It wasn't just their boss laughing and all knew what that meant: Joker gas. They didn't have their gas masks so they would have to take their time just in case.

"Well now," Rack said thoughtfully. "That is one of the most sadistic plans I have ever heard of."

"Are you in?" Dala asked.

"Yes," Rack grinned. "Psychological torture sounds lovely."