Note: Again, I own nothing and am moking no money off of this. The Varishi, though, is totally my idea and made up for this story. I own that much of it.

Chapter Seventeen: Half to Full Truth in 30 seconds.

Willow had walked the entire mansion twice, a long stick of magic-infusing incense in her hands, whispering the spells to protect the mansion from outside forces. Her magic flowed around her, reaching into every nook and cranny, mapping it in her brain, inculcating her spells into the furniture, rugs, stone, glass, and foundation.

She knew that this was not the original mansion that had stood on this site for the last six generations of the Wayne family, but the ground it was built on retained the memories of the past, and she knew there were secrets here. Long buried, but not unknown.

That was why when she was done with her casting, and was secure in the knowledge that all was well with her magic; she sought out Alfred, the Wayne family's loyal butler.

"What is he?" She asked the man as he gazed out the window in the library.

Alfred shook his head as he turned from the window and motioned to a chair across from the one he himself was taking a seat in. Willow excepted it and patiently waited for him to tell her what she wanted to know.

"Have you ever heard of a Varishi?" He asked her, staring down at the floor.

"No," Willow answered.

"Of course not. It cannot be found in any Watcher's Diary or Ancient Text, and that is because they don't exist. Or at least, they are not supposed to be allowed to live." Willow furrowed her brow, not understanding. Alfred continued: "A Varishi is a child that is produced at some point of a slayer line, always male."

"But I thought that being a slayer was random, like a roll of the dice," Willow stated.

Alfred shook his head again. "Some are, but there are a few true Slayer bloodlines. The daughters of the family are born Potentials, and even if they are never summoned to fight; the power they inherited is passed down. They always have daughters, never sons, because a male cannot become a Slayer. But every once in a while, a Varishi is born. Why, no one knows, but this male child inherits a certain amount of the Slayer power passed down through his mother's ancestors."

"And Bruce is one?" Willow asked. Alfred nodded. "Does he know?"

"No. His parents didn't know and I seriously doubt that Martha Wayne's parents knew about the power in her bloodline either. That knowledge had been lost some time ago."

"You said that they are not allowed to live very long."

"That is right. Varishi are very sensitive to evil. They are destroyed at birth so they cannot use their inherited power for evil use."

Willow could not believe what she was hearing. "How do you know all of this?"

"I was trained as a Watcher," Alfred admitted giving her a sad smile. "The Council specially trains certain Watchers to keep an eye on the families that could produce Varishi."

Willow gasped suddenly. "You were sent here to kill him. To kill Bruce when he was born."

"Yes," Alfred admitted his voice and features full of guilt. "But I could not do it. I could not take the life of an innocent child. I told the Council that he had died during birth, and the young man they sent to confirm my story was also of like mind to me. He told the Council that the boy was dead and they believed him."

"Giles," Willow stated, snapping her fingers. "The young man they sent was Giles."

"Yes, it was."

"And Bruce is not evil. He fights evil, so…" Willow shrugged, very happy. "That shows them. Or it would if the Council hadn't been blown to bits."

"No great loss," Alfred muttered, standing up. "There is something else that you should know. There was a prophecy…"

Willow sighed. "There always is."

Molaxuil demons give anyone who sees them a whole new definition of 'ugly'. Buffy had seen a lot of ugly things in her time as Chosen, but these guys took the cake: and then proceeded to stomp on it, take a blow torch to it, and then run over it with a semi. And then back over it again just to make sure.

They were six and a half feet of bone and a thin sheath of muscle and a layer of skin that looked like lizard scales. They were an ugly brownish color, like a mud puddle that had been run through over and over again. The little bit of muscle they had covering their bones did not mean that they were weak in the slightest. They had some strength to them, but they preferred the use of swords, and they had some wicked looking ones: three feet long, with a curved blade that at the ends almost like hooks, with barbs, and rows of teeth along one edge. They wore tattered armor, mix matched all along their bodies, but Buffy could see a few openings. She hoped whatever it was about the man at her side that made him so good at what he did, helped him spot those chinks in the armor also.

Simultaneously, the hunters attacked. Buffy flipped out of the way of hers, and then threw herself to the ground to avoid a back swing of a sword, rolling several feet away, before jumping back up to her feet just in time to dodge another sword swing aimed at her head, and deliver a nice kick to the demons midsection. While the demon recovered, she took a moment to check on the Bat. He was just fine, and he was handling the Molaxuil just fine as well.

The creature had charged him, sword held back wide. Batman had waited until the last minute, just as the sword was coming toward his left shoulder, and spun on his heel into it. Bringing up his arm, he caught the blade in the gauntlet he wore, the razor sharp protrusions trapping the sword. With a twist of his wrist, the sword blade gave way, and broke into several pieces.

The hunter growled, tossing the useless weapon aside, but before he could produce his backup, the very same things that had just broken his sword, caught him in the throat, slicing back and forth. The hunter grabbed at the Batman, but he could not break free. His neck was being sliced off and then it heard a click, and the metal flanges separated from the gauntlet, slicing through his neck bone and one even went up into its brain, the sharp tip clearing the back of its skull before stopping. The hunter fell dead.

Buffy was so busy watching the ease with which her partner disposed of a Molaxuil hunter that she almost let the one she was fighting decapitate her. She ducked just in time, feeling the air from the swung pass right over the top of her head. She did a complete circle, coming up behind the creature, jumping up onto its back and progressed to snap its neck. Done and done.

"What now?" She asked him as they tossed both bodies into a dumpster to hide them.

"We might be able to still track the Joker," he told her. They went back to the Tumbler and got in, backing out of the alley. "Can you still sense him?"

"Yes, but it is kinda weakened. He definitely went that way, though." She pointed to her right, and he spun the Tumbler around to face that direction and gunned it.

Several blocks later, Buffy held up her hand and he pulled to a stop. "Damn! I lost him."

"What did you mean when you said that he was possessed?" He asked her.

"Demons take over a human host, they take it over. I mean, they don't allow the human host to have a thought or say in anything. That Joker guy was not only aware, but Fargre'an was taking a backseat to the whole thing until he was injured. It is like he is just renting the space, but I can't see the demon alive when he decides to vacate."

Batman took this, and then they drove around the area for a little while. They even stopped and got out, walking around to find any trace of their quarry at all, but nothing.

There were a few vamps skulking about and they took care of them quickly. The sunrise was fast approaching and Buffy sincerely doubted they were going to find the creepy clown guy and his demon half, so they decided to go home.

Only they didn't go home, not to the mansion at least.

Buffy didn't even pay that much attention to where they were going. She was still trying to focus her senses to find the Joker. It wasn't working. She could not understand why it was not working. It was like her Slayer senses had just turned themselves off.

When she did look up, the Tumbler was pulling into a very dark garage underground. They exited and she followed him into an elevator. He pushed the button for the top floor, and pulled the cowl off.

"Where are we?" She asked.

"Penthouse that I own," he answered her, taking off the gloves next. "While the mansion was being rebuilt, this is where Alfred and I lived until it was finished." On the top floor, Buffy stepped out into another large room, this one not made of concrete, with a large bed in one corner, a door to her right, and nothing but windows overlooking the city. "We'll stay here for a little while, rest." Beyond the door, which as Buffy passed it was a bathroom large enough to accommodate a football team after a game, she watched Bruce trigger a secret door and go in. She followed him inside to find a room much smaller than the bathroom, but still large enough so they were not tripping over each other. There was an area where he could put his armor and change. "You can leave your suit in here with mine," he told her, removing the armor with practiced ease. "I have some shirts out there in the closet if you want one to wear."

She left her suit in there and then went back out, walking naked to the closet. The sun was throwing brilliant shades of orange and yellow over the city. At the closet, she took out a plain white shirt and pulled it on and then went into the bathroom for a glass of water. When she exited, he was standing near the windows by the bed, looking out in a pair of jeans. He turned to her when she approached, and then pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"I dare someone to bother us here," he whispered to her, kissing the top of her head. She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, wanting that rhythm to be the one that she heard for the rest of her days.

They just stood there, watching the sun come up, the city coming to life around them, holding each other, confident in the quiet and the trueness of it just being the two of them there. Buffy felt a moment of guilt about leaving her friends in a strange place after she had asked them to drop everything and come up here, and she knew the necessity of having Willow cast her spells and draw her runes to protect Bruce and the Bat, but right now it was distant, so far away she could barely make it out. She knew it would return soon enough. Besides, he had killed a Molaxuil hunter all by himself and hadn't gotten a mark on him. That was something to be proud of.

"This is the first time since my parents were killed that I have felt unbroken," he told her. "I feel as if everything that has happened to me that was so dark and painful, was what I had to endure to come to this moment, with you." He held her even tighter, and she closed her eyes, breathing him in.

"I know," she whispered. "I have trudged through hell and back, faced death and demons, and now… Being with you, it is like the destiny within a destiny. Does that make sense?

"Yes," he told her, amusement lacing his voice. "How would you like to get away for awhile? Go somewhere where they can't find us. Just you and me."

"What about the bad guys and the monsters?" She asked, pulling away from him enough to look up into his face. "What about the city of Gotham?"

He looked down at her, his face full of serious, but his eyes full of love – for her. "To hell with all of them and to hell with this city."

She stared at him for a few seconds, and he thought for a moment that she was going to disagree, to argue, to tell him it was wrong. And then she smiled. "Let 'em know what it is like to not have us protecting their ungrateful hides."

He returned her smile, kissing her deeply. Gotham City went about its life around them, unaware that the only two people in the entire world who could save them from the coming onslaught of darkness had just decided to take a vacation.