Chapter 5

It was unseasonably warm. The sky was clear, the moon was full and the stars were up there, somewhere, but the streetlights made it impossible to see them. It would have been a beautiful mid-November night if it were anywhere else. Even Sunnydale. This, however, was Crime Alley and nothing about it was beautiful. What it was, was sad.

Sunnydale had its share of problems, Buffy knew, but this sort of human misery was not among them. There was a hopelessness that pervaded this part of Gotham. Even some of the worst parts of Europe that she'd seen last year couldn't compare to the Narrows. Homelessness. The strong preying on the weak. And above all, a sense of hopelessness and despair that permeated the air Buffy breathed. Even though Willow had assured her that Gotham wasn't under any kind of spell, Buffy still found it hard to believe. Even harder to believe was that Gotham made her nostalgic for the Hellmouth.

Sunnydale, being a middle class kind of town, didn't have homeless and for the most part, it didn't really have any crime. She supposed some of that had to do with the former mayor. It was easier being the Slayer in a place where the only problems involved the supernatural bad guys. It was also easier living in a place that had a population of 38,500. Gotham was home to over 5 million.

Finding Dawn was going to be impossible if Batman refused to help.

She knew what Giles would say. Xander already said it. But the fact was that Gotham was Batman's city, the way Sunnydale had been hers. Her fight was on his territory. Cooperating was the right thing to do, which meant sharing information with him.

"You lost, doll?" The gravelly voice came from behind her, to her left. A second set of soft footsteps on the pavement told Buffy that he had a friend with him.

Turning slowly, Buffy regarded the two men. Human, yes, but definitely lacking in the good intentions – and the hygiene --department.

"Or maybe you're lookin' for something," the taller of the two suggested. His pupils were huge in his gaunt unshaven face and he smelled like he hadn't showered in days. "Maybe we can help you find it."

The shorter, paler one nodded in agreement. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be wanderin' around here by yourself. You could get hurt."

They were both high on something. Chances were slim they were high on the right something, but she tried anyway. "Know where I can score some Orpheus?"

Rasping out a sound that was half-cough and half-laugh, the shorter one nudged his friend. "Orpheus. Honey, they don't sell them fancy designer drugs down here."

"Maybe you give us the money, we can get you some Orpheus, sweet thing," the tall one put in. He pulled out a switchblade. "Better yet, just give us the money."

Resisting the urge to sigh, Buffy gave him her most bored look. "Why don't we skip the part where I beat the hell out of you and you just tell me who's peddling the Orpheus in this town?"

Tall Ugly snorted. "You? You're gonna beat the hell out of us?" And then he burst into laughter.

This time she gave in to her urge and heaved a weary sigh. "This is a new suede jacket. Try not to bleed on it, will you?"

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"I don't know! Please don't hurt me anymore!"

The frightened wail rose up to the rooftop where Batman stood, looking down at the scene in the street below. One thug was unconscious and the other was cringing up against the grimy brick façade of the abandoned apartment building. Buffy's fist curled and hovered in the vicinity of the thug's nose.

"I swear I don't. Please…God…help! Help!"

It would have been funny. Hell, it was funny. Buffy was maybe five-foot-four and she had a man nearly a foot taller than her and who outweighed her by at least fifty pounds cowering in terror. Batman launched himself down the side of the building and landed behind Buffy. The thug's eyes grew even wider at this new development and his mouth dropped open with a pitiful whimper.

"I'm here to help," Batman said, wryly, to the thug.

"I've got it," Buffy told him, glancing at him quickly over her shoulder.

Ignoring her, he lunged forward and grabbed the punk, slamming him against the building once more. "She asked you a question," Batman growled.

Panting, the punk's eyes started to tear up. "I swear I don't know. I ain't never heard of no Orpheus 'til she mentioned it. Please, Batman, don't let her hurt me no more."

Since when did the scum in this town fear a petite blonde more than him, Batman wondered.

With a light touch on his arm, Buffy said, "Alright, let him go. He doesn't know anything."

For a second, he considered debating with her, but the battered state of the man made it pretty obvious that Buffy had been thorough in her interrogation. Batman dropped the punk to the pavement, where he crawled over the body of his unconscious companion, scrambled to his feet and ran down the street.

Buffy watched the man disappear around a corner and then rounded on Batman. "I said I had it."

"Orpheus?" he asked, changing the subject.

Scowling, Buffy changed it back. "I can handle this –"

"I'm sure you can."

"Liar." With that, the fight went out of her and she flashed him a brief, sad smile. "You and I both know I've been here three weeks. Look at me. I'm so new in town I can't even find the demon bars."

"I live here," he admitted. "And I never even knew demon bars existed."

"You're not a Slayer. You shouldn't have to worry about demons." She looked down at the sleeve of her lilac-colored suede jacket and frowned. "I ruin more clothes this way… Orpheus is a magically enhanced drug. Humans take it, vamps drink from the humans and everybody gets a happy. Overdose and it sucks you down to hell. Still want to know about demons?"

"Looks like I'm going to have to learn, if I'm going to help you find your sister, your missing Slayer and help you stop an apocalypse."

Buffy looked up at him with obvious relief. "Thank god. I'm one Slayer and this is a big city."

He realized in that moment that he actually wanted to help, not just because he could but because…No. This wasn't the time or place to think about those kinds of things. There was business to attend to first. A city to save. Reaching for his belt, he retrieved a grappling hook and shot it upwards, snagging it firmly on a building ledge. Buffy was watching him with amusement. "What?"

"Is that how you get around?"

"Some of the time," he allowed. "I take it you have different method."

"I can't drive, so mostly foot and public transportation."

"That's a bit of a disadvantage in a city this size."

"So I've noticed." She grinned at him again. "What now?"

He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Now we take a tour."

With that, he hit the trigger and they glided silently but swiftly upwards.

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The screaming was a living thing that clawed at her chest.

Okay, maybe that was a little melodramatic, Dawn decided. But they were torturing Dana. Or more precisely, Scarecrow was torturing Dana while Drusilla and al Ghul watched. It gave her the chance to struggle with the straps holding her down and see if she could work herself free. So far, all she'd accomplished was rubbing her wrists raw.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped.

Dawn twisted around to see why and discovered that the Slayer was unconscious. Only unconscious. Not dead. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and realized too late that she'd just managed to make herself the focus of attention again.

The not-quite-there look in Scarecrow's eyes reminded her of Glory and she shuddered with the memory of the insane hell god. This wasn't exactly the same sitch but it was damn close. Seeing her reaction, a grin of pure malevolent pleasure lit up Scarecrow's face. "Ah, Dawn…"

Great, she thought to herself. Nice going, Dawn.

With what seemed like one long effortless stride, he was at her side, peering down at her hungrily. Dawn felt her stomach lurch, not with fear, but with disgust. It was hard to believe he was only a man.

"Oh dear. Look what you've done to yourself," he chided, encircling her right wrist in his long, slender fingers. They were the soft hands of a doctor. Too bad they were attached to a madman. Squeezing her already-painful wrists through their leather restraints, he asked, "You weren't thinking of trying to leave, were you?"

Whatever drug he'd given her earlier must have worn off because she was able to manage a disgusted eye-roll. "Well, you know, I really hate to miss your little freakapalooza but I have an elsewhere to be. Besides, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, ending the world without nachos."

"Such charming bravado." Scarecrow's evil grin didn't falter in the slightest.

"What? You think you're so freaksome, John Tesh?" What was freaksome, was that she was starting to sound an awful lot like Buffy. "You're not half as scary as your two friends over there. Compared to them, you're just a Shemp with a stupid mask."

Okay, she'd definitely pushed his buttons, because the man was growling. "I am the Master of Fear," he grated at her.

And she knew exactly what Xander would have said to that. It had to be the drugs because she had an overwhelming urge to laugh. So overwhelming in fact, that a snort of laughter managed to escape.

"You find me amusing, do you?" Scarecrow asked, leaning over her, filling her vision. Abruptly, he backed away and snatched a fresh syringe from the metal table attached to her hospital bed. "Let's see how amusing I am to you when I give you a stronger dose."

Uh-oh.

"You're not laughing now, I see."

Mouth completely dry, Dawn tried to think of a retort that might buy her a couple of minutes. Fortunately, she didn't have to think long because Dana came awake with a scream of pure rage. Scarecrow looked torn for a moment and then set the syringe down.

He started to walk away and then abruptly stopped. Turning back to Dawn, he leaned down and put his lips uncomfortably close to her ear. "I'm looking forward to our next session, Dawn."

Dawn amazed herself by retorting, "Don't forget the stupid mask."

"Oh, I won't, little Key." Brushing his lips lightly against her cheek, Scarecrow promised, "Neither will you."

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"Okay, whose bright idea was it to name this place My Alibi?" Buffy asked loudly. A couple of heads turned, but that was it. This wasn't Willie's Bar and she was definitely not in Sunnydale anymore. And maybe she should have checked when the last time – if ever – was that Gotham had a Slayer because the locals were obviously not impressed.

"Allow me." No sooner did her companion speak the two words than there was a frantic scramble for the door. A heartbeat later, the bars occupants were being hurled around like rag dolls by the black blur that was Batman.

Figured. Him, they were impressed by. Not that he wasn't impressive. Batman was just a man but he had fighting techniques that she'd never seen before. And he moved as fast – possibly faster – than she could. Speed. And efficiency. She could learn a lot from Batman, assuming he was willing to teach her.

A flash of movement behind the bar broke her reverie and she reached out in a lightning fast movement of her own to grab the man who was deperately trying to evade notice.

"Slayer?"

"Willie?" Buffy blinked in surprise as she dragged the scrawny familiar man to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I moved here and bought a bar. My old one in Sunnydale kind of went under, ya know?"

"That was an awful pun," she grimaced. Then she tightened her grip on his ugly Hawaiian shirt. If it tore, she decided, it would be a mercy killing. "I need information."

"Do I look like some kind of snitch to you?" Willie asked loudly, segueing into their old routine. And then his already pasty face paled as he looked past Buffy.

No need to guess who he was looking at. From the overwhelming sound of quiet, she figured he was done scaring Willie's patrons. "I've got it," she told Batman, fixing him with a stern look. "I mean it this time. Willie and I are old friends from Sunnydale."

"By all means," he replied, dryly, standing right behind her.

Look at that. There was a sense of humor under all the broody. Releasing her hold on Willie, Buffy folded her arms across her chest and demanded, "What do you know?"

Willie straightened his shirt collar and wiped at his nose. "Not much. Rumors, mostly. That fear drug that got dumped in the water, ya know, people thought maybe it was a really powerful fear demon –"

"I know that already," Buffy interrupted impatiently. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Well, if ya didn't interrupt, Slayer, I would." Willie gave her a wounded look. "I heard a rumor that Drusilla came here looking for the fear demon and decided like a lot of other newcomers to stay for the apocalypse. Which accounts for the clientele downstairs."

"Downstairs? This place has a downstairs?" Buffy looked around doubtfully.

"No, " Willie corrected her, "the bar is called Downstairs. Nice place. They have karaoke night and everything."

She glanced quickly at Batman. No reaction. Or he was hiding it really well. Probably, he was hiding it. Who would believe something that stupid. "A karaoke demon bar? You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't lie to you, Slayer. Not since that one time."

"You'd better not lie to her or you'll answer to me," Batman growled.

Willie went even paler. Buffy turned around quickly. "What did I say about having this under control?"

"Even you have to admit that a karaoke demon bar doesn't exactly have the ring of truth," he countered.

It didn't, really, but then again, she'd seen weirder. Kitten poker, for example. "If he's lying, he's all yours."

Willie started to shake. "Y-you wouldn't, Slayer –"

"You said you weren't lying."

"I'm not!"

"Then you have nothing to be afraid of."

"Hey! Yeah!" Brightening, Willie stopped shaking and reached for a cocktail napkin. Reaching into his pocket for a pen, he began writing. "You'll need this to get in. The owner's got this spell that keeps the place hidden so no humans can find it. Also heard he's got some kind of spell that stops fights. I oughtta look into that…"

"You probably should," Buffy told him, sneaking another peek at her companion. No reaction. For a guy who knew nothing about Slayers and magicks, he wasn't doing any of the usual scoffing or eye rolling. It was a nice change. He noticed her looking and they locked eyes until Willie shoved the cocktail napkin under her nose, breaking the moment.

"Remember, Slayer –"

"I never got this from you."

It was time to go Downstairs.