Chapter Seven: Separate Ways

He stopped dead in his tracks, shrouded in his cloak and the shadows on top of the building. She took a few tentative steps toward him, stuffing the dagger into the waistband of her pants.

"I'm sorry," she stated, wringing her hands together in front of her. "That night in the alley. I knew it was you."

"How?" Deep. Gravely. Almost too softly spoken for even her heightened hearing to catch.

"The eyes," she said, taking another step forward. "The eyes never lie."

He took a deep breath and then spun back toward her. She was caught in those eyes, but her eyes had attention deficit disorder because they couldn't decide if they should settle on those eyes or that mouth. Both were a good choice in her mind. Maybe she could use one eye to look at one and the other to look at the other. No, not possible so she skipped over looking stupid and tried to figure out a new plan. Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

She got caught in those eyes again, and they rooted her to the spot, but he had freedom of movement and closed the distance between them. When he stopped in front of her, he was so close that his cape brushed her legs. This close, she had to tilt her head way far back to look up at him, he was so tall. It was a little uncomfortable, but she wasn't complaining.

Close proximity, good, she determined. She could feel the heat from his body through the armor he wore, radiating out to her, beckoning to her. She wondered in that moment which persona captivated her more, but before that thought even finished going through her mind, she realized with positive clarity that it was just him. All of him, every part. Just this man, no matter what, or who he was. It was everything, completely and without hindrance. She wanted to know all of it, the good, the bad, and every tiny little thing that she was able.

The effect he was having on her was significant, and not just the mental part. He literally made her feel physically weaker. Her knees felt like they were melting, her hands were trembling, her heart rate accelerating, and she could feel droplets of sweat running down her back and between her breasts. An ache. A need. A drive. A hunger.

When she had the impulse to take that final step, that one last move that would put her right where she wanted to be, that was when it happened.

Damn vampires!

The first one landed right next to her, sharp talons digging into her scalp as it grabbed her hair and flung her backwards. She crashed into the half wall, a sharp pain riding her spine, and she grimaced. That one or another one was on her in a second. She managed to dodge the fist flying at her face, but it caught her in the shoulder instead. The force nearly threw her over the wall and to the street below. Looking down for a split second she knew she would not survive the fall. Sensing the vampire behind her, she kicked back with all her might, which was quite a lot, and sent it flying. By the sounds behind her, she knew that Batman was dealing with other vamps as well.

Time to go into Slayer mode.

She spun, catching another vampire in the jaw with her fist. She felt and heard the bones crack. Go on through with her spin, she caught the thing before it could fall, her hand digging into the jaw she had just broken, and flicked her wrist up and out. Another crack, this time the neck, and the vamp turned to dust. She was already moving, honed in on her next target. A roundhouse kick to the chest, another spin, and her hands found this vamps head as well. Another crack. More dust.

She made a dive for her purse, coming up with it and reaching inside for the stake that was there. She took a moment to check on Batman. Whatever he was using, sliced through flesh and bone, dusting the intruders just as easily as she was. In that brief time, she marveled at him, how he moved, adapted. He was a sight to behold.

The vampire that made a leap at her never had a chance. He came down. Mr. Pointy went up. Stake. Heart. Done.

The two remaining that were still standing made the intelligent decision, and jumped off the roof to the street below. Buffy didn't have to look to see if they had made it. She knew they had. Just one of the few advantages they had over her. They were far from her mind anyway.

In the center of the rooftop, Batman stood back from her, a vampire lying mangled at his feet. His dark eyes were filled with intrigue as he stared back at her. She had no idea what he was thinking, but the fight had stirred something inside of her, something wild and dangerous, which needed release. Not ten feet behind him was a tall metal object, she didn't really know what it was, but she didn't really care either. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she walked over to him, pushed him back against the side of it, and kissed him. His arms were around her immediately and his lips broke free from her own, raining kisses upon her face and down to her neck. In an instant she was the one crushed against the side of the thing, the sound of the metal banging loud in her ears, with the Batman hiding her from view with his cape.

Her mind was in a whirlwind. She couldn't think of anything but him. She couldn't feel anything but him. The city around them, the world beyond that, could have ceased to exist at the moment and she wouldn't have cared less. He existed. She existed. That was all that mattered. His body against hers, hands caressing her, his lips leaving a hot trail on her skin. All of it was the most spectacular sensations she had ever experienced in her life. It was wonderful. Marvelous.

And then. . . .

"How long were you planning on lying to me?"

Whoa! Slayer libido grinding to a halt. Not a pleasant feeling at all. Good sensations screaming ABORT! ABORT! World coming back into focus. Sights and sounds of the city speeding back with the force of a bullet train. Not good. Undeniably not good!

"Wait! What?" Her mind was taking a little bit of time to start operating her higher functions again. It took her a short while for what he had said to her to make sense. "Lying to. . . . Oh!"

And then he moved away from her and light and sound seemed to magnify. Her knees felt like they were going to give out on her so she gripped the metal behind her, feeling it bend under her touch. Her body was still a livewire, pulsating with desire. She could still feel him, smell him, and taste him, feel him pressing against her, his soft lips warm on her skin, but it was just the ghosts of all of this because he was standing several feet from her, his eyes hidden in shadow.

"The attack tonight. The dagger you showed me. You could have told me about this in the alley." His voice had an accusing tone to it that she not only did not like, but it was kind of making her mad. "I take it that your name is not really Sofia Blake. How long were you going to keep me in the dark about all of this? About you?"

Buffy pushed herself away from the metal thingy. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. She honestly didn't know that answer to his questions, and it hit her hard that she had majorly screwed up.

"This city is mine to protect. Whether the people of Gotham like it or not, that is true." His voice was still gravely, but for the Batman, he was yelling at her. "If I don't know what is going on, what I am dealing with, people get hurt. People die. And when they do that falls on me."

"It falls on me, too," Buffy snapped back. Anger was helping her get through the haze. "It is my job as the Slayer to take them out and keep them from hurting anyone. That is why I am here. The damage they do, the people they hurt, the lives they take, that is on me. Whatever blood they spill is on my hands."

"Those creatures invaded my city." His voice had taken on an icy edge, and it cut right through her. "I am the one who has to deal with the aftermath of what happens here. Not you."

"Not me?" Buffy whispered, shaking her head.

"You get to move on. Leave here. I don't. I can't."

"That's not fair." Her voice was cracking.

'No, but it's the truth." His tone had softened.

And that was when it hit her. It was always the same and was always going to be. She was the Slayer. That took precedence over everything else, including what she wanted. She had let her feelings for him cloud her judgment, allowed her to think things that she shouldn't have. If something happened to him it would be her fault and she couldn't live with that. He had enough to worry about with adding her in the mix. Yes, he protected this city, but he was only human. The vamps knew she was here. If they found out about her and him. . . .

"We can't see each other anymore," she said, and that tore the heart out of her. "They will kill you if they find out. . . . If I let anyone get close to me. It always happens. I can't let that happen. I can't. . . . I won't."

"You get to make all the decisions now. Even for me?"

"I am trying to protect you." She looked up at him.

"And who protects you?"

Another blow, even though she knew he hadn't meant it that way. She had to do this. She had to. No matter how much it hurt her. No matter how much it hurt him. It had to be done.

"I do. No one else. Just me. That is the way it has always been. And that is the way it has to stay." Realization was a bitch.

"So, you are just going to walk away?" Not Batman's voice. No. That had been Bruce this time.

"It's better this way." She turned, tears burning her eyes. Next to the metal thing was the door inside the building. "Good-bye, Bruce. Stay safe. And please, stay away."

The door was locked, but it gave easily to her strength. With Slayer speed, she dashed through it and down the stairwell. Down, down, down. It all became a blur. She only stopped when she came to the bottom floor and once she did; her strength gave out on her. She slid down the wall next to the exit door, put her face in her hands, and wept.

He flew over the city streets. His mind was divided between what he needed to do – his self appointed job as protector of Gotham, and what had just transpired on the roof top.

What was the matter with him?

He knew he should have kept walking. He should not have stopped when she called out his name, but he had and then he had turned around. He had looked into her eyes, just like the night of the museum gala and then later on after she had killed that vampire.

Then he had made another mistake: he had kissed her.

He couldn't blame it on an adrenaline rush, no more than he could admit it had been due to residual after effects of battle. She had been spectacular to behold fighting creatures that weren't supposed to exist. It had been convenient, that moment between them, taken unlike he had failed to on the street in front of her hotel earlier. And he knew without a doubt that if he had not gotten a hold of himself, that he would have taken her right there on the rooftop, up against the roof entrance frame.

He had wanted to. More than anything had he wanted to.

Whether fortunate or not, the Bat had taken over, wanting answers to the questions he had not really wanted to ask, and then it had all gone downhill from there. He had seen the hurt in her eyes and it tore at him still. He could have handled it differently. And not just tonight but from the moment he had met her, but he hadn't. Like a lovesick school boy, he had pursued her and then crushed her all in a matter of moments.

Even now, he wanted to go back, find her, tell her he was sorry, and beg her to forgive him. Start over. Hold her. Never let her ago.

Steeling himself, knowing that what was done was done, he blended into the night, trying to forget and move on. It was a much easier thing to think than to do. He had to remember what it was she had said. She had called herself 'The Slayer.' He had to find out more.