Batman: The Buffy Chronicles - COMPLETED

by Brenna's Urbangirl Projects

When Buffy fell through the portal in The Gift she awoke to find herself with selective amnesia and back in her six year old body and then she bumps into Bruce Wayne.

1. Year One through Eleven

Summary: When Buffy fell through the portal in The Gift she awoke to find herself with selective amnesia and back in her six year old body and then she bumps into Bruce Wayne.

Pairings: None

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy. DC Comics owns Batman.

Author's Note: This was a story I started and for the most part never got beyond a handful of scenes. It has more or less been abandoned by this point. So I decided since I probably would never make it into a full fledged story that I would go ahead and give you what I did.

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Chapter 1: Year One

Oct. 10th 1987

Buffy woke up in a state of utter confusion, her mind a blank canvas devoid of memories. She felt like an empty vessel, only aware that she was a mere six years old, born in January, and called Buffy—her identity hanging by the thread of her first name alone. The rest of her past remained a haunting mystery, lost in the shadows of amnesia.

As fate would have it, Bruce Wayne had just stepped out of the theater, his heart still entangled in the emotions stirred by the movie he had watched. Little did he know that an unexpected encounter was about to unravel the depths of his compassion. Buffy inadvertently bumped into him, and with those innocent eyes of a lost child, she tugged at his heartstrings.

"Evening, Miss," Bruce greeted her gently, concern etched on his face. "Where are you headed, and where are your parents?"

Wide-eyed and disoriented, Buffy looked up at the enigmatic figure before her and shook her head, her voice trembling. "I'm lost, sir. I don't remember anything... Can you please help me?"

Bruce knelt down, his heart aching for the young girl's plight. "You remember nothing at all?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a mixture of worry and wonder. How could such a young soul be burdened with such a heavy affliction? What cruel twist of fate had stolen her memories away?

With an air of vulnerability, Buffy nodded in response to his question. "Other than my first name is Buffy, my birthday is sometime in January, and I am 6 years old… I don't remember anything else," she confided, her voice trembling with fear. The world seemed like an abyss of uncertainty, and she clung to the few fragments of identity she could grasp.

Bruce let out a heavy sigh, his heart swelling with a newfound sense of responsibility. Without hesitation, he scooped Buffy up in his arms, offering her a sense of security she hadn't known since awakening without her memories. "How about I take you to a doctor I go to regularly and see what we can find out?" he suggested, his determination to help her clear in his voice.

Buffy's heart raced with a mix of uncertainty and hope as Bruce guided her towards his car, where a gentle-looking man named Alfred Pennyworth was waiting. The warmth of Bruce's reassuring presence offered her a glimmer of comfort amidst the sea of unknowns she faced.

Alfred's eyes softened with concern as he noticed the young girl. "Master Bruce?" he inquired, sensing that something extraordinary had happened.

With a tender touch, Bruce settled Buffy into the car, and a sense of security washed over her like a soothing embrace. Turning to Alfred, he explained the heart-wrenching situation he had stumbled upon. Buffy's plight had stirred a compassionate chord within him, compelling him to take on the role of her protector.

"I just found her as I was coming out of the theater," Bruce shared, his voice tinged with empathy. "She says she has no memory of anything but her name, month of birth, and age. I was going to take her to Doctor Russell and see what he can find out about her memory loss. Then I will see what I can find out using Batman's resources to find her family."

Alfred nodded in understanding, witnessing the profound sense of responsibility that Bruce had taken upon himself. As Bruce settled into the car, Alfred swiftly closed the door and made his way to the driver's seat. With unwavering loyalty, he steered the car towards the doctor's office, the weight of Buffy's mystery lingering in the air.

Gazing at Bruce with innocent curiosity, Buffy couldn't help but wonder about the enigmatic figure known as Batman, a name she found unfamiliar. "Who is Batman?" she finally mustered the courage to ask, her voice tinged with a mixture of fascination and innocence.

Bruce's smile held both affection and admiration as he spoke of his enigmatic ally. "He is a friend of mine," he replied, knowing that the complexities of Batman's identity were best left unspoken for now. Buffy's trust in him was precious, and he wished to honor it with utmost care.

Arriving at the doctor's office, a sense of urgency overtook them. Bruce and Buffy were ushered inside, their arrival met with the promise of answers.

Dr. Russell's handshake conveyed both professionalism and empathy, understanding the gravity of Bruce Wayne's concern for the young girl by his side. With a gentle gesture, Bruce introduced Buffy to the doctor, her vulnerable presence tugging at the strings of compassion that lay within every human heart.

"She says she has no memory," Bruce began, his voice tinged with a mix of worry and determination, "other than her first name, month of birth, and age. I was hoping you could examine her for a cause. I intend to locate her parents with my other resources."

Dr. Russell's eyes locked with Bruce's, sharing an unspoken understanding. He was one of the few entrusted with the knowledge of Bruce's dual identity as Batman, a role that had forged a unique bond between them. The doctor nodded solemnly, prepared to unravel the mystery surrounding this innocent girl's memory loss.

Throughout the following hours, Dr. Russell delved into the depths of medical examinations, seeking answers within the intricate pathways of Buffy's mind. As each test was conducted, Bruce's heart clenched in anticipation, hoping that some light would be shed on the shadows veiling her past.

Finally, Dr. Russell returned with a mixture of intrigue and concern etched on his face. "This is an interesting case," he remarked, his tone reflecting a rare sense of bafflement. "Never have I seen such total amnesia. Usually, most people retain fragments of their memories. But in her case, it's as if her past has been swept away entirely. From the tests, it appears she suffered some kind of trauma, not very long ago, either. Perhaps a few days, a week at most."

Bruce's mind raced with questions, fearing the worst for this young girl who had entered his life so unexpectedly. Was it her parents who had caused her harm? Was abuse the cruel catalyst behind her memory loss?

"Could it have been from abuse?" he inquired, his voice thick with concern.

Dr. Russell's response was both cautionary and candid. "I can't tell for sure," he confessed. "There is evidence of abuse, but there is also evidence of something else. It appears she had quite a fall."

Bruce's heart sank as he considered the grim possibilities that could have led to Buffy's memory loss. The weight of media stories he had encountered, highlighting the dark reality of parental abuse, cast a shadow over his thoughts. Such horrors were far too common, and the mere thought of a young child enduring such suffering was almost unbearable.

Dr. Russell's words only deepened the emotional turmoil within Bruce. The uncertainty surrounding the cause of Buffy's amnesia left him grappling with a haunting mix of empathy and despair. "Whether her memory loss is a result of the fall or the abuse is unknown," the doctor explained, his voice tinged with a hint of helplessness. "The only thing I know for certain is unless a miracle occurs, she likely will not regain her memory."

Another heavy sigh escaped Bruce's lips, his heart aching for the innocent girl whose past had been shattered into fragments. The thought of facing life without any memory of one's identity, origins, or past experiences weighed heavily on him. It was a burden he wouldn't wish upon anyone.

"Thank you, Dr. Russell," Bruce murmured softly, gratitude mixed with a sense of determination to provide the best care for Buffy in the days ahead.

Leaving the doctor's office, Bruce's protective instincts were already at work. He walked alongside Buffy, guiding her with a sense of solemn responsibility. As they arrived at Wayne Manor, the grand estate seemed like a sanctuary of safety in the midst of the world's uncertainties.

With Alfred's presence providing a sense of stability, Bruce gently addressed Buffy, her trust in him tugging at his heartstrings. "Now, Buffy, you're going to be staying with me while I try to find your parents, okay?" he assured her, his voice warm and reassuring.

Buffy nodded, her innocence mingling with a glimmer of hope at the prospect of finding her family. "Okay," she replied softly, placing her trust in Bruce's promise.

As they entered the grand halls of Wayne Manor, the place that had always been Bruce's sanctuary, he couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. With Alfred's caring guidance, Buffy was led to her temporary abode, where she would find comfort and care amidst the unknown.

June 16th 1988

Bruce's frown deepened as he stared at the computer screen in the Batcave. Months of relentless searching had yielded no sign of Buffy's parents, and the weight of his frustration and concern bore heavily upon him.

Alfred's voice, filled with compassion, broke through Bruce's thoughts. "Still no luck, Master Bruce?" he inquired gently, his presence a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty.

Bruce shook his head, a mixture of weariness and determination in his gaze. "No. And it puzzles me. Why no one has reported a 6, now 7, year old child missing. The only thing I can think of is her parents could be dead. Which will make it harder to find out who she is."

Alfred let out a sigh, sharing the weight of Bruce's worries. "Master Bruce, it might be time to think of the next step," he suggested with a gentle tone, recognizing the urgency of the situation.

"I have been thinking of that myself," Bruce admitted, his voice tinged with a sense of contemplation. "I've taken in wards in the past, as you well know, just never one this young. But it's looking more and more likely she may have nowhere to go. And if I don't take her in, she will end up in foster care. While that is not a bad situation, I would prefer her to stay somewhere where she can be looked after properly, given her condition."

Alfred's gaze softened, his caring eyes reflecting a profound understanding of the gravity of the decision that lay ahead. "Actually, I was thinking of adoption, Master Bruce," he offered gently. "It's one thing to foster a child as you have done in the past. But Miss Buffy is an entirely different case, with no memory of her past she needs a family now more than ever. And since you and I are the only parental figures she knows, it might be the best course of action."

Bruce let out a heavy sigh, his heart torn between the persistent search for Buffy's parents and the growing realization that she needed a family, whether it was her own parents or a new one to call her own. He had scoured every possible lead, but the absence of any traces of her family left him feeling a deep sense of frustration and helplessness.

Alfred's suggestion resonated in Bruce's mind, and he found himself contemplating the prospect of raising a family of his own. The idea both excited and frightened him, but he knew that Buffy's well-being was paramount, and she deserved a stable and loving home. "I know. I will ask her what her thoughts on that are tonight at dinner," he resolved, determined to put Buffy's feelings at the forefront of the decision.

As the evening arrived, and they gathered around the dinner table, Bruce watched Buffy intently, her innocent presence filling him with a mix of affection and protectiveness. "Buffy?" he spoke softly, capturing her attention. "I wanted to ask your opinion on something."

Buffy looked at Bruce with a childlike curiosity, her eyes shining with trust in the man who had become her rock in this bewildering journey. "My opinion?" she echoed, not quite sure what to expect.

Bruce nodded, his heart pounding with both apprehension and hope. "Yes. I've come to the decision I would like to adopt you, Buffy," he revealed, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

As Buffy looked at Bruce, her young heart wrestled with the weight of the decision he had presented to her. Thoughts of her parents, shrouded in her amnesia, tugged at her emotions. The glimpses of adoption she had seen on TV shows during her time at Wayne Manor gave her some understanding of what it meant—Bruce becoming her father, a guiding presence in her life.

"What about my mommy and daddy?" she finally voiced her concern, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and sadness.

Bruce sighed, his heart heavy with the truth he had to share. "I am sorry, Buffy. But I have been searching for them. There have been no police reports of you going missing. Which leads me to believe your parents may have gone to heaven."

The mention of "heaven" was bittersweet to Buffy. She knew it meant her parents might not be coming back, and the realization that she might never see them again washed over her like a wave of sadness. She lowered her gaze to the food on her plate, trying to hold back tears and make sense of the emotions swirling inside her young heart.

With a mixture of trepidation and hope, Buffy looked back at Bruce. If she could never see her parents again, then having a new daddy, someone who cared for her deeply, sounded comforting. She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to ask, "Does that mean you would be my daddy?"

Bruce's warm smile and nod were a tender affirmation of her question. "Essentially, yes, that is what it would mean," he confirmed gently, his heart swelling with love for the young girl who had found her way into his life and captured his heart.

"I would like that, daddy," Buffy said, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she spoke the words that held the potential to shape her future.

Bruce's grin was both joyful and reassuring. "Then tomorrow, I will contact who I need to and get the ball rolling," he promised, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for this precious child who had entrusted him with her heart.

July 25th 1988

Alfred stepped into the house, clutching the mail in his hands, only to find Buffy seated on the stairs as if her entire world hinged on the contents of that mail. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of hope and nervous anticipation, met Alfred's gaze. "Hello, Miss Buffy. Wanting to see if it's come yet?" he inquired gently, recognizing the significance of this moment for the young girl.

Buffy nodded, her heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. Ever since Bruce had asked her if she wanted to be adopted, she had been waiting with bated breath for the news to become official. This was her chance at having a loving family and a place to call home, and she couldn't help but yearn for that sense of belonging.

As Alfred sifted through the mail, a smile gradually spread across his face. He opened an envelope, glancing at its contents, and his nod spoke volumes. "Why don't you take this to Master Bruce?" he suggested, placing the envelope in Buffy's small hands.

With a burst of energy, Buffy was off like a comet, running with a swiftness that surprised even Alfred. His heart clenched with concern, noticing something unusual in her newfound speed. "Something is wrong. She shouldn't be able to run that fast," he murmured, his furrowed brow a testament to his worries.

In no time, Buffy burst into Bruce's study, the envelope tightly clutched in her hand. She could barely contain her excitement as she handed it to him, her eyes locked onto his with a mix of eagerness and uncertainty. Bruce took the envelope, his hands shaking slightly as he read the letter contained within. A smile, wide and genuine, lit up his face as he looked up at Buffy. "It's official, Buffy," he declared, the emotions of the moment overwhelming him. "How about we go out and celebrate tonight?"

"I'd like that, daddy," Buffy whispered, her voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and love as she wrapped her small arms around Bruce. The embrace was a testament to the bond that had formed between them—a bond that transcended the constraints of time and memory, built on a foundation of trust and unconditional affection.

As Bruce pressed the button on the intercom, he couldn't help but notice the radiant grin that adorned his new daughter's face. It was a smile that seemed to chase away the shadows of her forgotten past, filling the room with a warmth that could only come from the joy of newfound belonging.

"Alfred, can you come and get Buffy," he requested, his voice tender as he addressed his trusted friend and butler. "Make sure she is dressed in something pretty. We're going out this evening. Call and reserve my normal booth at Giorgio's."

Alfred, ever the attentive caretaker, walked into the room, his eyes filled with both pride and concern. He directed Buffy gently, "Miss Buffy, why don't you go on up to your room. I will be there in a second. I need to talk to Master Bruce." Buffy nodded, obediently leaving the room, her heart still aglow with the love and happiness that Bruce's words had ignited.

With Buffy gone, Alfred turned to face Bruce, his demeanor serious. "Master Bruce," he began, his voice tinged with apprehension, "I witnessed something that should be impossible for a girl her age. She seems to be able to run quite fast, faster than a child her age should be able to run."

Bruce's brow furrowed with concern. He knew that Buffy's amnesia had left her with many mysteries, but this newfound speed was an unexpected revelation. "Interesting," he murmured, his mind already formulating plans. "I will call Dr. Russell tomorrow and see what he can learn. We must ensure that Buffy's well-being is our top priority."

July 30th 1988

Bruce walked into Dr. Russell's office, his heart heavy with the weight of the unknowns surrounding Buffy's mysterious abilities. The doctor had called him in urgently, and now he anxiously awaited any insights that could shed light on this perplexing situation. "Well, Doctor?" Bruce inquired, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and hope.

Dr. Russell's expression mirrored Bruce's uncertainty, his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the medical enigma that was Buffy. "This is as much a mystery as her amnesia is," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. He had run numerous tests on Buffy, searching for a medical explanation for her extraordinary strength, speed, and agility—abilities that rivaled those of seasoned superheroes. Yet, he had found nothing that could account for her remarkable powers.

"I can find no medical reason for her speed and strength," Dr. Russell continued, his voice heavy with bewilderment. "I clocked her, and she is able to run easily twenty miles an hour. I expect that as she grows, her abilities will only become more formidable. I don't know how or why this is happening."

Bruce's mind raced with possibilities, and he couldn't help but think of Superman and the people of Krypton. "From what you know of Superman's people, could she be one?" he inquired, hoping that perhaps her powers were connected to her origin.

Dr. Russell shook his head. "I asked Superman to come here with the intent of asking that question in person," he revealed. "He insists that he and Supergirl were the only survivors of Krypton. He even provided a hair sample for DNA comparison. She is not Kryptonian. There is no medical reason for her to have the abilities she has."

The revelation left Bruce stunned, grappling with the inexplicable nature of Buffy's powers. "There is something else," Dr. Russell added, his voice softening. "When I took blood samples from her, her healing was nothing short of extraordinary. Within seconds, any marks from the samples were gone, leaving no trace of my intervention."

Bruce couldn't comprehend the implications of what he was hearing. Buffy's abilities seemed to defy all known medical and scientific boundaries. "How is that possible?" he questioned, his voice filled with astonishment. "When I first brought her to you, she had evidence of bruises from possible abuse and a fall."

Dr. Russell's uncertainty mirrored Bruce's, leaving them both grasping at straws. "It's almost like these abilities are a recent development," he mused, searching for any clues that could lead to an explanation. "Either that or when I saw her last year, they were lying dormant, and something recently activated them. Was there a change in her home life?"

"Yes," Bruce replied, his voice carrying a mix of pride and love. "I officially adopted her."

Dr. Russell nodded, understanding the significance of this decision. The act of adoption itself could have been the trigger that awakened Buffy's extraordinary abilities, but the enigma of her powers remained shrouded in mystery. "It's possible that could very well have been the trigger," he conceded, his tone reflective. "We may never know for sure."

Bruce's heart was heavy with the weight of the unknowns that surrounded Buffy's life. The deeper they delved into her past, the more complexities they encountered, leaving them grasping at fragments of answers. "Her mystery continues to deepen," he acknowledged, his voice tinged with concern for the young girl who had become his daughter. "Are these abilities dangerous to her?"

Dr. Russell considered the question carefully before responding. "I don't believe so," he reassured, his voice gentle. "Despite her lack of memories, she seems to know how to control them, almost as if it's instinctual. However, I would recommend she receive training nonetheless, just in case she should hurt herself or others unintentionally due to a loss of control."

Bruce's heart sank, remembering the pain he had endured with the loss of Jason Todd, a previous Robin. The thought of training another young protege filled him with both apprehension and a sense of responsibility. "Thank you, Dr. Russell," he replied with a hint of weariness. "Much like my other files, I suggest these be shredded. I can't imagine what would happen if someone learned of what she was able to do."

Dr. Russell nodded in agreement, recognizing the potential dangers of such information falling into the wrong hands. "Of course," he complied. "May I ask, will she one day be helping Batman?"

Bruce's mind wandered to a future that was still uncertain. The year he had spent with Buffy had brought them closer, and he had grown fond of her like a father to a daughter. He hesitated before responding, "I don't know. I've grown quite fond of her over the last year, and I'm not sure I want to put her in that kind of situation. Of course, if she does help him, it will likely be a few years away."

Dr. Russell's understanding nod offered a sense of reassurance to Bruce, knowing that the doctor respected his wishes for Buffy's safety and well-being. The weight of the unknown future lingered in the air, but for now, they could focus on nurturing Buffy's newfound abilities while keeping her out of harm's way. "I hope never to see her at Batman's side. But if she does one day help him, I will be ready," Dr. Russell affirmed, his commitment to protecting Buffy mirroring Bruce's own.

"Thank you," Bruce said, his gratitude evident in his voice and the weight of responsibility lifting slightly from his shoulders. As he and Alfred drove home, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and trepidation. The prospect of Buffy becoming the next Robin weighed heavily on his heart, a role he had been hesitant to fill after the loss of Jason Todd. But in the past year, Buffy had become more than just a young girl with amnesia; she had become a beloved daughter, and the thought of training her for any perilous path was a difficult one to bear.

"Alfred, I need you to set up a training regimen for Buffy," Bruce stated, his voice tinged with determination. He knew it was essential to help Buffy learn control over her abilities, not only for her safety but also for the safety of others.

Alfred's concern was evident as he asked, "Will she be the next Robin?" He knew Bruce's reservations about taking on a new protege in such a perilous role.

Bruce let out a sigh, torn between his desire to protect Buffy from harm and his understanding of the reality of her abilities. "More than likely, yes," he admitted reluctantly. "Though I don't want her to be, she has grown on me, Alfred. You were right in suggesting I adopt her; she has become to me like she is my own daughter."

Alfred nodded, his heart filled with both pride and concern for Bruce's newfound fatherhood and the difficult decisions it entailed. "For now, she needs to learn control over her abilities," Bruce continued, reaffirming his commitment to Buffy's well-being.

"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, his unwavering loyalty and dedication to the Wayne family evident in his words. Together, they would navigate the complexities of training Buffy, balancing her unique gifts with the tender love and care she deserved as Bruce's beloved daughter. In the face of the uncertainties ahead, one thing remained clear—Buffy had found a family in Bruce and Alfred, a family that would protect, nurture, and cherish her with unwavering love and devotion.

Chapter 2: Year Two

Oct. 10th 1988

Buffy found herself standing in an eerie realm of darkness, lit only by the Master's unsettling eyes that gleamed like malevolent stars.

"Welcome," the Master's sinister voice echoed, and a shiver ran down Buffy's spine as she faced him, unsure of the origin of this surreal encounter.

"Thanks for having me," Buffy replied with a touch of sarcasm, her emotions both guarded and curious. Her witty banter, a shield she had always carried. "You really ought to talk to your contractor," she quipped, her eyes scanning the dim surroundings. Despite the darkness, she couldn't help but notice an imperfection, even amidst this nightmarish setting. "I think you've got some water damage."

The Master's laughter rang out, a chilling sound that sent a chill down Buffy's spine. His response carried a hint of condescension. "Ah, good. The feeble banter portion of the fight," he taunted, dismissing her words with an air of arrogance. "Darling, why don't we just cut to the—"

In an instinctual motion, Buffy reacted, her heart pounding in her chest as she spun and shot an arrow from her crossbow. The action was a release of pent-up emotions, the embodiment of her untamed spirit seeking to break free from the chains of her forgotten past. But the Master was swift, catching the arrow with a gesture, stopping it mere inches from his heart. His acknowledgement of her prowess only heightened the surreal atmosphere of this dream-memory.

Undeterred, Buffy loaded another arrow into the crossbow, her determination undiminished by the Master's show of power. Her eyes locked onto his, a mixture of strength and vulnerability woven into her gaze.

"You're not going to kill me with that thing," the Master said, oozing with misplaced confidence.

Buffy's laughter echoed through the darkness, a blend of defiance and uncertainty. "Don't be so sure," she retorted, her voice wavering slightly as she faced this formidable adversary.

"You still don't understand your part in all this, do you?" the Master taunted, his voice laden with menace. "You're not the hunter. You're the lamb." With a dark flourish, he stepped back, fading into the shadows, leaving Buffy feeling disoriented and vulnerable.

"For somebody all-powerful, you sure do like to hide," Buffy retorted, her voice tinged with defiance as she tried to locate the elusive figure once more.

The Master's mocking voice echoed from the other side of the cavern, and Buffy spun around, her senses heightened in this dream-memory. She found herself standing in front of a pool of water, the sound of dripping filling the air.

"I'm waiting for you. I want this moment to last," the Master's voice taunted, his smirk practically tangible even though she couldn't see him.

Buffy's response was tinged with impatience and unease. "I don't," she stated firmly, her mind unwilling to linger in this enigmatic place.

Suddenly, the Master materialized behind her, snatching the crossbow from her grip as he captured her in his grasp. Despite her futile efforts to break free, his hold on her was firm, and he reveled in her helplessness. "I understand," he hissed, savoring the control he had over her. "You tried. It was noble of you. You heard the prophecy that I was going to break free, and you came to stop me. But prophecies are tricky creatures. They don't tell you everything."

He leaned in, whispering in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "You're the one that frees me. If you hadn't come, I couldn't go. Think about that." His words carried a sinister weight, and Buffy's mind swirled with confusion and fear.

The Master's fangs pierced her neck, and she cried out in pain and terror. As her life force was drained, she felt a surge of power enveloping the malevolent vampire, shaking him with its intensity. Her anguished cry turned into a feeble mewl, her wide eyes frozen in an expression of agony and horror.

With a sickening satisfaction, the Master retracted his fangs, intoxicated by the newfound strength coursing through him. Buffy's consciousness waned, and she sagged in his grasp, her body weakened and her memories slipping away like sand through her fingers.

"God, the power!" the Master exclaimed, reveling in his dark triumph as Buffy's life force dwindled.

As she lost consciousness, Buffy's last moments of awareness were a haze of pain and despair. The Master callously let her fall to her knees, her body cascading into the pool of water, as if she were nothing more than an expendable pawn in his sinister game. His cold voice taunted her even in her vulnerable state, mocking her fate and offering a chilling compliment on her dress.

Buffy's eyes shot open, and her throat released a piercing scream that echoed through the darkness of her room. The haunting dream-memory clung to her like a suffocating shadow, shaking her to the core.

Alfred and Bruce rushed to her side; their concern evident in their anxious expressions. Without hesitation, Bruce sat on the bed, drawing Buffy into his arms, seeking to offer her the comfort she desperately needed.

"It was just a bad dream," Bruce tried to reassure her, his voice filled with tenderness. But Buffy knew deep down that this wasn't just any ordinary nightmare. The emotions she experienced in that dream-memory felt far too vivid and real to be dismissed as mere illusions of the night.

Her voice quivered as she struggled to put her thoughts into words, grappling with the unsettling realization that her dream had tapped into fragments of her lost past. "I remember something that shouldn't be possible," she confessed, the weight of her revelation resting heavily on her heart. She had glimpsed a life before her amnesia, a life that didn't align with her current state of existence.

Bruce's brow furrowed in confusion, trying to make sense of Buffy's words. "What?" he asked, his voice filled with concern and bewilderment.

Struggling to make sense of it herself, Buffy pressed on. "Me, I think I was sixteen years old in the dream," she revealed, her voice trembling as she recounted the surreal experience. "I was fighting something. I drowned."

Bruce sighed, his heart aching for his adopted daughter. Though he wished to offer her solace, he had no easy answers. "It was only a bad dream, Buffy. Only a bad dream," he repeated gently, hoping to ease her troubled mind. "Go back to sleep. I'll be here if you need anything."

As Buffy lay tucked under the blankets, her mind continued to churn with the puzzling fragments of her dream-memory. She couldn't shake the feeling that what she experienced went beyond a mere nightmare. It felt real, as if she had somehow touched a part of her forgotten past.

Bruce's concern for her well-being was evident in the way he carefully tucked her in, wanting to shield her from the terrors that had haunted her slumber. His protective presence provided a sense of safety that she desperately clung to in the midst of her emotional turmoil.

As the door closed, leaving her in the solitude of her room, Buffy couldn't help but wonder about the truth behind her vivid dream-memory. Her mind was a labyrinth of questions, each path leading to a dead end of uncertainty. How could she have remembered something where she had been older? The very notion seemed impossible, defying the laws of time and reality.

Outside her room, Bruce and Alfred engaged in a somber conversation, their voices hushed with the weight of their worries. Bruce struggled to comprehend the enigma of Buffy's dream-memory, seeking to understand its origins and implications. "Was it a dream or as she thinks a memory? If it was a memory how did she get younger?"

Alfred's response carried a touch of resignation, acknowledging the limits of human understanding in the face of the inexplicable. "I don't know," he admitted with a heavy sigh. "But I know this much: no one on this planet could have done it. Maybe you should contact Superman and ask him about this. Since his people are from another planet, maybe there is something they have encountered that could explain this."

With a determined nod, Bruce agreed, realizing that reaching out to Superman might be their best chance at understanding the inexplicable. "Yes, I think I should do just that," he affirmed, ready to seek guidance from the Man of Steel in this perplexing matter.

In the quiet cocoon of her room, Buffy drifted back to sleep, her mind still caught in the echoes of her dream-memory. The name that had emerged amidst the fragments of her past hung in the air like a whisper, laden with emotions she couldn't comprehend. "Dawn," she whispered softly, the word tinged with a sense of love and longing, as if it held the key to unlocking the deepest recesses of her lost memories.

Oct. 15th 1988

Buffy's heart raced with a mix of curiosity and wonder as she peeked around the corner, witnessing Bruce's secret world unfold before her eyes. The piano's haunting melody set the stage for a hidden passage to reveal itself, drawing her into a mysterious realm she had never known existed.

In an instant, she found herself racing to catch the closing door, the rush of adrenaline fueling her determination. The thrill of discovery mingled with a hint of trepidation as she followed Bruce down into the cavern beneath Wayne Manor, a place she had never imagined could exist within the walls of her home.

"Daddy?" The word escaped her lips in a soft, uncertain tone, the realization that her beloved guardian was hiding a secret identity leaving her both intrigued and perplexed.

Bruce's expression revealed a blend of surprise and concern as he faced his inquisitive daughter. With a gentle touch, he removed the cowl and knelt beside her, seeking to bridge the gap between the roles he played in her life. He knew that this moment had been inevitable, yet he had hoped to shield her from the complexities of his double life for a while longer.

"Sweetie, what are you doing down here?" he asked, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of apprehension.

With an innocence that only a child could possess, Buffy confessed the truth. "I followed you," she admitted, her eyes filled with curiosity and trust, unaware of the magnitude of her discovery. "Are you playing dress up?"

Her question hung in the air, and Bruce took a deep breath, knowing that he could no longer hide the truth from her. "No, Buffy. I'm not playing dress up," he replied, his voice steady but carrying a sense of solemnity. "I am Batman."

The realization washed over Buffy like a wave, her wide eyes reflecting a mix of excitement and amazement. The revelation opened the door to a world of wonder, where her ordinary father was also a nocturnal vigilante, a guardian of justice who roamed the shadows of Gotham City.

"You are?" she whispered in awe, the realization of her father's dual identity filling her with a newfound admiration and pride.

Bruce's voice held a mix of caution and concern, his words falling like delicate threads woven to protect both Buffy and himself from potential harm. "Yes," he answered. "But you can tell no one. If anyone found out you and I both could be hurt. Do you understand?"

In the glow of the cave, Buffy's eyes remained fixed on him, her mind struggling to grasp the gravity of his request. Why couldn't she share this incredible secret with her friends? It puzzled her, leaving her feeling uncertain and isolated.

As she slowly nodded in agreement, a spark of truth flickered in her eyes, revealing that she didn't fully comprehend the reasons behind Bruce's admonition. She wanted to trust him, but the curiosity and innocence of her youth couldn't comprehend the complexity of the situation.

Bruce, ever attuned to her emotions, sensed her hesitation. He knew that simply asking her to keep the secret was not enough. She needed guidance, an explanation that would make sense to her tender heart. He walked to the intercom and pressed the button, a silent plea for Alfred's support echoing in his mind. They needed to navigate this delicate matter with care, as Buffy's safety and happiness hung in the balance.

"Alfred, come down to the cave. Buffy followed me, and I need your help in explaining to her why she can't tell her friends about me," Bruce requested, his voice tinged with both vulnerability and determination.

"I'll be right there," Alfred's response was swift, a testament to his unwavering support for Bruce and the young girl who had become a part of their lives. He understood the importance of the moment and knew that the conversation ahead required the utmost sensitivity.

Alfred entered the cave with a gentle smile, his caring eyes meeting Buffy's. He could sense the confusion and curiosity in her expression, and he knew they needed to approach the delicate topic with sensitivity.

"Hello, Miss Buffy," Alfred greeted warmly. "I believe Master Bruce has something important to discuss with you."

Bruce took a deep breath, knowing the weight of the moment. He crouched down to be at eye level with Buffy, his voice gentle but serious. "Buffy, being Batman is not just a game or a story like you see in the comics or on TV," he began. "It's a very serious responsibility. Batman has to protect the city and its people from dangerous criminals."

Buffy listened intently, her brow furrowing with curiosity. "But why can't I tell my friends about it? They would think it's so cool!"

Bruce's eyes softened as he tried to find the right words. "It's true, some people might think it's cool, but there are others who wouldn't understand. They might try to hurt us or use you to get to Batman," he explained gently. "Keeping my identity a secret helps keep us safe."

Alfred chimed in, his soothing voice adding wisdom to the conversation. "You see, Miss Buffy, being Batman is a very dangerous job. There are people out there who would do anything to stop him, and that's why it's important to keep his true identity hidden."

Buffy pondered their words, her young mind processing the gravity of the situation. "So, it's like a secret mission to protect us?" she asked.

Bruce nodded with a smile. "Exactly, sweetie. Batman's mission is to protect the people of Gotham, and that includes us. And you, being my daughter, are an important part of that mission too."

Alfred knelt beside them, his hand resting gently on Buffy's shoulder. "We trust you, Miss Buffy, and we know you'll keep this important secret. It's for the safety of our family."

Buffy looked from Bruce to Alfred, feeling a newfound sense of responsibility settling in her heart. She understood that being a part of Bruce's life came with its own challenges and sacrifices, and she wanted to be there for him just as he was for her.

"I promise, Daddy, I won't tell anyone," Buffy said, her voice filled with determination and love for the man who had become her family.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Batman found himself atop Wayne Tower, gazing out over the city of Gotham, lost in his thoughts. Beside him, Superman touched down with a graceful landing. After attempting to explain to Buffy the importance of keeping his secret identity safe as her agreement to keep it secret. Batman couldn't shake the feeling that she might still have lingering questions. He hoped she wouldn't betray his trust.

"Batman, what can I do for you tonight?" Superman inquired, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

With a distant gaze, Batman began to share his worries. "About a year ago, a young girl came to me. She had no recollections except for her name, month of birth, and age. Recently, she had a dream that she claimed was a memory. This girl has advanced speed, and strength. I would say in time she may be near your levels. I wonder how she could be that strong and the fast. But what worries me is this dream, a dream of where she is sixteen years old. She just said she had been sixteen and she had drowned."

Superman listened intently; his super senses attuned to every word. "This is interesting. I assume this is the girl that Dr. Russell consulted me on to make sure she wasn't Kryptonian?"

"Yes, that's the one," Batman confirmed, finally turning to face Superman.

As Batman turned to face him, Superman's eyes met his, and he knew the question that weighed heavily on his fellow superhero's mind. "You are wondering if it is possible to make a person younger," he stated with a thoughtful nod.

Batman's silence spoke volumes, a testament to his concerns and the depth of the mystery surrounding Buffy's dream-memory. "Yes," he finally replied.

Superman's response carried a hint of uncertainty and emotion as he replied, "Not that I am aware of. But there are many things on this planet I have witnessed that I cannot explain. Such as the supernatural; I myself have encountered what some would call demons and vampires."

Batman's eyes reflected a mix of surprise and understanding as he processed Superman's words. "If it were anyone else, I would think they had gone crazy mentioning vampires and demons," he said, his voice tinged with a touch of admiration. "But I know you well enough, Clark, to know that you're telling the truth. It makes me wonder if there is something with the supernatural that could erase her memories and for what purpose?"

Superman's concern for Buffy's well-being was evident as he replied, "For whatever purpose, she needs to be prepared. I know after what happened to Jason that you don't want another Robin. But may I suggest you train her as such anyways. It will prepare her for whatever she is meant to do. From what you've told me tonight, I am sure she has a destiny to fulfill."

Batman's gaze softened, touched by his friend's wisdom and empathy. "I will think about it. Thank you, Clark," he said, gratitude coloring his voice.

"No problem, Bruce," Superman responded, offering reassurance as he lifted off and soared towards Metropolis.

As Batman stood there, watching his friend depart, a sense of determination took hold. He knew he couldn't ignore the possibility that Buffy's situation might be linked to the supernatural. With newfound resolve, he took off into the night, the weight of responsibility resting heavily on his shoulders, yet ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

---

Chapter 3: Year Three

January 20th, 1989

Quentin Travers, the stern head of the International Watcher's Council, sat in his office, poring over reports of the current Slayer, India Cohen. His face lit up with genuine delight at the remarkable progress she was making in her duties. So engrossed was he in the paperwork that he failed to hear Laura Key Weathermill, the skilled sorceress known for her ability to locate missing or newly activated Slayers, enter the room.

Coughing softly to get his attention, Laura finally broke through his concentration. "Yes?" Travers inquired, his tone a mix of curiosity and slight irritation at being disturbed.

"We have an unexpected development," Laura revealed. "During a training exercise with Gwendolyn Wyndam-Pryce, she sensed the presence of a second Slayer in the United States."

Travers frowned, dismissing the notion immediately. "She must have been mistaken. It's simply not possible for there to be more than one active Slayer at a time."

Undeterred, Laura asserted, "I double-checked her findings, Quentin. There is indeed another Slayer in the United States."

A mix of intrigue and concern flickered across Travers' face. "Find out who she is and how she came to be a Slayer," he commanded, recognizing the significance of this unexpected revelation. The revelation of a second Slayer had shaken the very foundations of the Council's beliefs, and he knew they needed to uncover the truth behind this extraordinary occurrence.

January 31st, 1989

Travers' office seemed to grow colder as Laura stepped inside. Her expression held a mix of excitement and concern, reflecting the gravity of her discovery. "We've found her, sir," she announced, her voice tinged with both urgency and trepidation.

Travers leaned forward, intrigued yet wary. "Found who?" he inquired, trying to suppress the excitement that was bubbling within him.

"The new Slayer, sir," Laura replied, her emotions swirling as she continued, "but there's a complication. She's only eight years old."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "How is that possible?" Travers questioned, his mind struggling to comprehend the unprecedented situation. "No Slayer has ever been called at such a young age before."

Laura shook her head, her heart heavy with uncertainty. "We don't know. It defies all our knowledge and expectations. It should have been impossible."

The weight of the situation deepened as Laura revealed further information. "And there's more, sir. This young Slayer has ties to the Wayne family in Gotham City, Delaware."

Travers' memory stirred, taking him back to his father's time as a Watcher. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "My father was assigned to recruit Thomas Wayne as a Watcher. But Thomas refused."

Laura's eyes held a somber gleam. "Shortly after your father's contact with the Wayne family, both Thomas and Martha Wayne were tragically killed, leaving their son Bruce Wayne as an orphan," she explained. "A very wealthy orphan with the Wayne family butler, Alfred, as his legal guardian."

"And this has to do with the new Slayer, how?" Travers asked.

Laura's voice trembled slightly as she shared the connection. "Bruce Wayne adopted a girl just under two years ago. The girl he adopted is the Slayer."

Travers couldn't help but feel conflicted as he absorbed this information. His mind raced with the implications of this unexpected twist. Thanking Laura as she left, he turned to his trusted advisor, Roger Wyndam-Pryce, seeking counsel.

Roger's expression mirrored the gravity of the situation, his features etched with concern. "It's a safe bet that since his father refused to become a Watcher, Bruce Wayne will likely refuse to allow us to take the girl," he predicted, his voice laced with resignation. "We may have to take her by force and stage her death."

The moral dilemma weighed heavily on Travers' mind, knowing that such an approach would have far-reaching consequences. "We may have an additional problem," he admitted, his voice laden with apprehension.

Roger sighed; the reality of the situation not lost on him. He had seen the news reports even from across the ocean, detailing the enigmatic figure known as Batman. "Yes, he might pose a problem," he acknowledged, fully aware of the potential conflict that awaited them.

May 14th, 1989

Buffy walked down the sidewalk of Gotham Academy, heading towards the waiting car where Alfred stood. The sudden turn of events caught her completely off guard when three men materialized out of nowhere and forcefully snatched her, dragging her into a waiting van.

Alfred's panic was evident as he sprinted towards the van, desperately trying to save his young charge. He managed to catch a glimpse of the license plate as the van sped away, his heart pounding in his chest. Fueled by adrenaline and determination, he rushed back into the school, his mind focused on one thing – finding Buffy and bringing her back safe.

Alfred's voice trembled with urgency and concern as he spoke to the secretary, desperately seeking help for the kidnapped Buffy. "Afternoon," he began, trying to steady his emotions. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I need to use your phone to call the police. Miss Buffy Wayne has just been kidnapped."

Feeling the gravity of the situation, the secretary's hands shook as she swiftly dialed 911. Her heart raced as she relayed the distressing information to the authorities. "Yes, this is Gotham Academy," she said, her voice tinged with worry. "I have Alfred Pennyworth, the butler of Bruce Wayne, wishing to report the kidnapping of Miss Buffy Wayne. Yes, please hold."

The weight of the situation was palpable as she handed the phone to Alfred. He took a deep breath, his heart heavy with concern for Buffy's safety. He spoke to the police, recounting everything he had witnessed, his voice laced with emotion as he shared the terrifying events that had unfolded. His hands trembled slightly as he offered the crucial piece of information—the license plate number of the van that had snatched Buffy away.

The moment Alfred hung up with the police, his fingers trembling, he reached for the phone once more, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew Bruce needed to be informed immediately. With every word he spoke, "Master Bruce, it's Alfred. Buffy has been kidnapped. I just called the police. They have the license plate number, but we need to act fast."

Time was of the essence, and Bruce's heart sank as he heard the distress in Alfred's voice. He wasted no time, making his way swiftly to the Batcave. Emotions churned inside him as he donned his iconic batsuit, each piece fitting into place with a sense of urgency. The echoes of his daughter's laughter and her bright smile haunted his thoughts, fueling his determination to bring her back safely.

In the depths of the Batcave, surrounded by shadows, Batman inputted the van's license plate number into the Batcomputer. His jaw clenched as he saw that it had been rented in Metropolis, making the situation even more complicated. The frustration simmered beneath his stoic exterior, and he couldn't help but curse under his breath.

With a resolute expression, he made his way to the Batmobile, a dark and imposing vehicle that mirrored the weight on his heart. As he sped out of the cave, the engines roared to life, the Batmobile becoming an extension of his relentless determination.

In the back of the van, Buffy clung to hope, her heart pounding as she glanced around, searching for a way to escape her captors. Fear and uncertainty gnawed at her, but amidst the darkness, the image of her father's stern yet caring face kept her spirits from faltering. She silently prayed that her dad, Batman, would find her soon, knowing that he would stop at nothing to bring her back to safety.

High above Gotham, Batman listened attentively to the police chatter through his communicator. The news that the police were in pursuit of the van brought a surge of hope. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he hit the accelerator, joining the chase with a fierce determination burning in his eyes. Nothing would stand in his way until he rescued his precious daughter and ensured her safety.

Inside the van, tension hung heavy in the air, and fear gripped the hearts of the men who had taken Buffy. The driver's face contorted with frustration as he realized that Batman had joined the police in the pursuit. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced at the others, their expressions mirroring his apprehension. "I knew when Travers sent us to Gotham to get the girl, it was a mistake," he uttered, his voice filled with regret.

The other two men nodded in agreement, sharing the driver's sense of impending doom. As they barreled down the road, their predicament became dire. Ahead, they found themselves trapped, with two police cruisers blocking their path. Panic and desperation clouded the driver's judgment as he briefly considered plowing through the police cars to escape.

However, the memory of their orders echoed in his mind—return the girl unharmed. Travers wanted to run tests, to uncover the mysterious circumstances surrounding the early calling of a Slayer and the existence of another during the same time. Plowing through the cruisers would not only jeopardize their mission but also risk Buffy's safety.

He exchanged uneasy glances with the other men, grappling with the consequences of their actions. The Watcher's Council held immense power, and they were confident that all charges of kidnapping would eventually vanish. So, the driver made the decision to pull the van over.

Two hours had passed since Buffy's harrowing kidnapping ordeal, and she was now back at the safety of Wayne Manor. The echoes of Bruce and Alfred's conversation resonated through the walls, filled with both relief at her safe return and concern over her future. The emotional weight of the recent events still hung heavily over them all.

As Buffy listened from the next room, she could sense the tension in their voices, the depth of their care for her well-being evident in every word exchanged. The memory of the van and the faceless men who had snatched her lingered in her mind, leaving her feeling vulnerable and uncertain about what lay ahead.

Despite their efforts, the culprits had managed to slip away, leaving no trace of their identity except for a lingering sense of fear and insecurity. The unknown nature of the threat made it all the more menacing, and Bruce's frustration was evident as he grappled with the mystery surrounding the powerful connections these men possessed.

In the midst of their concern, Alfred offered a suggestion, his voice tender and protective. "If you do not wish her to return to Gotham Academy," he began, his emotions evident, "and the public schools are out of the question, I think the only other opportunity is for Miss Buffy to be homeschooled, and a teacher hired for such an endeavor."

Bruce's eyes met Alfred's, a shared understanding passing between them. The weight of the decision weighed heavily on his shoulders, as he considered the best course of action for his daughter. The thought of keeping her safe within the confines of Wayne Manor brought a sense of reassurance, knowing she could be shielded from any further danger.

With a firm nod, Bruce acknowledged the wisdom in Alfred's suggestion. "Make the calls," he finally said, his voice tinged with resolve. "Find someone to teach her."

May 31st, 1989

Travers' frown deepened, frustration and disappointment evident on his face. The incompetence of the men he had sent to capture the Wayne girl had left him seething. But now, with Batman's formidable presence having thwarted their plans, he had no choice but to reluctantly abandon the immediate pursuit. The risk of drawing further attention to their clandestine operations loomed ominously in his mind.

Reluctantly, he uttered, "We will wait and try again in a few years. When she is older, and hopefully, this Batman is long gone from Gotham."

The weight of the decision settled heavily on Travers' heart, knowing that time was both a foe and an ally. His desire to fulfill the Watcher's Council's enigmatic motives warred with the realization that patience was the key to success. Waiting was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was a necessary one.

Roger, ever the loyal confidant, nodded in agreement, sharing in the disappointment and acceptance of their chosen course of action. "I agree," he murmured, his emotions echoing Travers' sentiments.

However, what neither of them could foresee was the twist of fate that awaited them. Little did they know that the opportunity they yearned for, to try again and seize the young Slayer, would never present itself again. Destiny, unbeknownst to them, had its own plans, shaping a future where their nefarious schemes would remain forever out of reach.

---

Chapter 4: Year Eight

Oct 13th 1993

Bruce's eyes were filled with a mixture of pride and concern as he watched Buffy, his young daughter, practice her boxing. Seeing her determination and skill, he couldn't help but be reminded of his own journey as Batman, the weight of responsibility as a mentor and a father bearing down on him.

"Buffy, you dropped your elbow," Bruce gently corrected her, stepping closer to guide her arm. His voice carried a fatherly tone, protective and caring. "Always keep your elbow up. Always be on your guard."

"Dad, I've been wondering," Buffy said. "Have you been training me to be the next Robin to your Batman?" Alfred had explained to her what had happened to Jason and understood why Batman didn't currently have a Robin.

Her innocent question caught him off guard, and he paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Yes," he admitted, his heart heavy with the memories of Jason and the reasons why he didn't currently have a sidekick.

But Bruce knew that the training had served a dual purpose. His emotions swirled as he explained, "But that isn't the only reason I've trained you for the last five years. You needed to learn control over your abilities. With your strength and speed, you could hurt someone by accident." His heart softened as he continued, "Batman and Robin are not about punishment or vengeance. Justice must always come from the courts. What Batman does is to bring criminals to justice that the police have a problem with."

Buffy listened intently, absorbing her father's wisdom. Her gaze softened, and she gently probed further, remembering the story Alfred had shared with her about Bruce's tragic past. "But that's not why you started being Batman, though," she said, her voice empathetic. "It was about Grandpa and Grandma dying at the hands of the mugger, wasn't it? When you first started, you wanted revenge?"

Bruce nodded, his eyes reflecting the pain of his past. "Yes, in the beginning, I wanted revenge," he admitted. "Eventually, though, I drew the line that I have since never crossed. What Batman does can never be about revenge; he is a symbol for justice."

As they delved into deeper discussions, Buffy shifted the conversation to a different topic, one that weighed on her heart. "On another topic, I had another dream," she revealed, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I was 20 years old; I was on a tower of some kind. There was this girl with brown hair. I think I died for her."

Bruce's sigh carried the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions as he tried to reassure Buffy. "Buffy, it's all in the past now. Don't worry about it. You're alive now, and that's what matters," he said gently, his voice filled with paternal concern.

But deep inside, Buffy couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Her dream-memories felt like whispers from a distant future, not echoes of the past. Doubts and uncertainties swirled within her, causing her heart to ache with a sense of confusion. Yet, she hesitated to share these troubling thoughts with Bruce, fearing that he might view her as unstable or delusional in her current state.

Jan. 19th 1994

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow in the kitchen as Joyce gently cleared the plates from the breakfast table. Buffy stood nearby, a mixture of excitement and anticipation in her eyes as she prepared to leave for school.

"Mall trip for your birthday on Saturday. Don't forget," Joyce reminded her, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

Buffy's face lit up with delight, a glimpse of the strong bond she shared with her mother shining through. "Miss out on a mom-sponsored shopping opportunity? Not likely," she replied with a laugh, the warmth of their connection evident in her words.

Joyce, curious about how her daughter felt on her seventeenth birthday, asked with genuine interest, "So, does seventeen feel any different than sixteen?"

Buffy's eyes sparkled with affection for her mother as she replied, "Funny you should ask. I actually woke up feeling more mature, responsible, and level-headed."

Joyce's eyes softened as she looked at her daughter, feeling an indescribable pride and tenderness. "Really? That's uncanny," she said, her voice tinged with affection.

Buffy's smile held a mixture of playfulness and pride, her eyes shining with a hint of mischief. "And yet, true," she quipped with a touch of lightheartedness. "I now possess the qualities one looks for in a licensed driver."

Joyce's sigh, however, carried a note of concern and motherly apprehension. "Buffy," she said gently, her eyes locking with her daughter's.

A sense of weariness settled over Buffy as she glanced at the calendar nearby, the minutes slowly ticking away. "You said we could talk about it again when I was seventeen," she reminded her mother, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and trepidation.

With a knowing smile, Joyce responded, her emotions a mix of protectiveness and tender guidance. "You've been seventeen for forty-eight minutes," she gently pointed out, acknowledging the significance of the milestone.

"And –" Buffy said.

The underlying concerns bubbled to the surface, and Joyce addressed them with maternal sincerity. "First of all, you promised you'd stay out of trouble in school," she said, her voice carrying the weight of a parent's expectations and hope for her daughter's well-being.

Buffy's nod carried both determination and a hint of frustration, the weight of her struggles evident in her eyes. "I try. You know I do. But Principal Snyder has it in for me—" she began, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Joyce's heart softened as she listened, understanding the challenges her daughter faced at school. Yet, her concern over Buffy driving persisted, and she couldn't help but voice it. "I know. But... you behind the wheel, it worries me," she confessed, her words heavy with maternal worry.

A gentle laughter escaped Buffy's lips, a moment of levity amidst the serious conversation. "It worries all moms. It's a biological imperative. But I'm going to drive sooner or later, so we might as well deal sooner, right?" she reasoned, trying to ease her mother's concerns with a touch of humor.

The tender exchange between mother and daughter continued, the emotions running deep. Joyce turned to face Buffy, her hands holding a plate, but the plate slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor. "Oh, damn it," she muttered in frustration, her heart still heavy with worry. She stooped to pick up the pieces as Buffy just stood there, obviously freaked out by something. She nodded toward the broom in the corner. "Grab the broom, would you Buffy?"

As Buffy's heart raced, she woke abruptly from her dream, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to gather her bearings. The lingering memories of the dream tugged at her consciousness, and a sense of revelation washed over her. The calendar she had seen in her dream, the one from the year 1998, felt like a clue to her hazy past. "It is the future I'm seeing," she whispered to herself, her mind racing with possibilities.

In a rush of urgency, she knew she had to share her newfound realization with her father. She quickly left her bed, her heart pounding as she ran to Bruce's room and knocked on the door, her emotions raw and her voice filled with urgency.

As Bruce opened the door, his concern was evident on his face. "What's wrong, Buffy?"

Buffy blurted out her revelation, her words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to make him understand. "My memories or dreams," she began, trying to make sense of the visions that haunted her mind, "they're of the future."

Bruce shook his head, his logical mind grappling with the seemingly impossible notion. "Buffy, that's not possible," he gently tried to reason, wanting to ease her troubled thoughts.

But Buffy was determined to make him see the truth she believed in. "In my latest dream, I looked at a calendar and saw the year," she explained, her voice filled with conviction. "It was 1998. I was 17. My mom's name is Joyce, by the way."

A mixture of concern and curiosity flickered in Bruce's eyes as he absorbed her words. Despite his initial skepticism, he knew better than to dismiss her entirely. He had learned to trust her instincts and the enigmatic way her mind worked. The bond they shared was built on trust, and he would not discount her feelings lightly.

In a moment of understanding, Bruce nodded, the decision made to investigate further. "Come on, we will research this down in the Batcave," he said, his voice tender yet resolute.

With each keystroke, Bruce and Buffy delved deeper into the enigma of her past. Emotions swirled as they sat together in the dimly lit Batcave, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. As Bruce inputted the information, the computer's response came almost instantaneously, revealing the identity of Buffy's supposed family.

The revelation brought a mix of emotions for Buffy. A glimmer of hope sparked within her as she saw the familiar names of her parents, Joyce and Hank Summers. The confirmation of their existence validated her memories to some extent, yet it also left her puzzled as to why they had never reported her missing.

Bruce's voice filled the space, his emotions guarded as he questioned the circumstances. "Looks like we got a hit on your family, and they're still alive. Wonder why they never reported you missing," he wondered aloud, his analytical mind seeking answers. A moment later they had their answer, "It appears this may not be your family after all. According to public records, that Buffy is attending school in Los Angeles."

Confusion crept into Buffy's thoughts, adding to the emotional complexity of the situation. She tried to reconcile her dreams with the discrepancies, grasping at the fragments. "It sounds right though," she mused, trying to make sense of it all, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "You don't think I might be dreaming about her, do you?"

Bruce's shrug mirrored the complexities of their investigation. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "There are quite a few things that are still a mystery regarding you."

---

Chapter 5: Year Ten

January 20th, 1996

Alfred stepped into the cavernous Batcave; his gaze drawn to the sight of Bruce engrossed in front of the computer screen. Peering over Bruce's shoulder, a tinge of concern crossed Alfred's features as he took in the contents on display. "Do you harbor doubts about Miss Buffy's judgment, Master Bruce?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a touch of disapproval.

Without diverting his attention from the screen, which showcased an image of Thomas Armstrong with his family, Bruce responded, "I have complete faith in Buffy's judgment."

Raising an eyebrow, Alfred continued, "Then might I inquire why you find yourself inspecting her date and his family background?" Deep down, he was well aware that such actions would likely not sit well with Buffy, were she to discover them.

A heavy sigh escaped Bruce's lips. "I don't know the boy enough to trust him. Besides, Buffy is my little girl. It is my job to watch out for her and protect her."

Approaching from behind, Buffy's voice cut through the atmosphere. "I had a feeling I'd locate you both down here," she stated as she drew nearer. She had intended to seek their opinions on her choice of attire for the evening, yet her attention was swiftly redirected toward the computer's contents. "Dad, what on earth are you doing? Keeping tabs on Thomas? Don't you trust me?"

Bruce's sigh was laden with a mix of frustration and concern. "Buffy, I have unwavering trust in you. It's the world beyond that gives rise to caution. It's not just Batman's adversaries we must consider, but any potential threats that might target you due to your connection with me. Remember the incident when you were eight and were abducted? We remain uncertain about the identity and motives of those responsible. It's plausible they might have sought ransom from me for your safe return. Vigilance is imperative."

Exhaling in resignation, Buffy admitted, "I comprehend your apprehensions, dad. But if you truly trust me, then have faith in my ability to handle such matters. I would have spared you the effort." She approached the computer, inputting her credentials to access the system. Soon enough, she pulled up a file. "When Thomas asked me out, I took the liberty of investigating his family background, for the very reasons you mentioned. The Armstrongs, both Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong, have faithfully served Wayne Enterprises for two decades. If there were any malicious intent, they've had nearly a decade to act on it. Wouldn't you agree?"

Bruce regarded Buffy with a mixture of pride and concern. Her logical argument struck a chord within him, but the protective father in him still grappled with worry. "Your reasoning is sound, Buffy," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I do trust you more than anything, but it's the unpredictability of the world that keeps me on edge."

Buffy met her father's gaze, her expression a blend of understanding and empathy. "I know you're just looking out for me, Dad. And I appreciate it more than words can say. But I've grown up in this world too, and I've learned from the best. You've trained me well, and I won't let my guard down. I promise."

Alfred interjected, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of their conversation. "Might I suggest a compromise, Master Wayne? While Miss Buffy has presented a compelling case, there's no harm in both monitoring and trusting simultaneously. We can keep an eye on things discreetly, allowing her the autonomy she deserves."

Bruce considered Alfred's words, realizing that striking a balance between his concerns and Buffy's independence was the key. With a resigned nod, he said, "You're right, Alfred. It's not about doubting you, Buffy, but about being cautious. Let's trust your judgment and have the monitoring as a secondary measure, just in case."

Buffy smiled warmly, a mixture of gratitude and assurance in her eyes. "Thank you, Dad. And you, Alfred. I know you both want what's best for me."

May 20th, 1996

Tears welled up in Buffy's eyes as she stood amidst the bustling school hallway. The echo of Thomas' words reverberated in her mind, striking her with an unexpected force. "I don't think we should see each other anymore," his voice had said, its impact leaving her heart raw and her emotions swirling.

Gotham Academy's usual commotion seemed to fade into the background, leaving Buffy in a suspended moment of shock. She looked at Thomas, her boyfriend, her partner in laughter and secrets, her source of comfort. His expression was difficult to decipher, a mix of resolution and regret.

A sense of disbelief colored her voice as she asked, "You don't?" Her brows furrowed, her eyes searching his face for some sign that this was a misunderstanding, a bad dream she could wake from. "When did this happen? Where was I?"

The weight of his decision sank in as he responded, "Lately you seem to be keeping secrets. About your past."

Buffy's heart clenched at his words. She had hoped that Thomas would be different, that he would understand her struggles, her fragmented memories, and the immense complexity of her life. A sigh escaped her lips, a heavy exhale laden with frustration and sadness. "I'm not. I told you I have amnesia. I can't remember anything past when I was six."

Thomas' expression seemed to soften for a fleeting moment, but it was quickly overshadowed by his resolve. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about a lot of things since then," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and resignation. And then, like a storm retreating, he turned and walked away, leaving Buffy standing there, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

As the distance between them grew, Buffy felt an overwhelming sense of vulnerability wash over her. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before her, and the once familiar surroundings now felt foreign and isolating. Her throat tightened, and a lump formed as she fought back tears, a mixture of sadness, confusion, and heartache welling up within her.

She watched Thomas recede, feeling as if a part of her world was crumbling away. The sensation of being alone, of facing a pivotal moment without the comfort of his presence, weighed heavily on her young shoulders. The tears that had threatened to spill now cascaded down her cheeks, a silent testament to the pain that had suddenly consumed her.

In that moment, Buffy felt acutely aware of her own vulnerability, the fragility of her connections, and the uncertain journey ahead. The world seemed a little colder, a little darker, as she stood there, grappling with the harsh reality of a breakup that had blindsided her.

An hour later, Buffy walked through the grand entrance of Wayne Manor, her tear-stained face a somber reflection of the emotional turmoil that had enveloped her. The weight of her recent experience still bore heavily upon her heart, each tear that dropped a testament to the pain she was grappling with.

"Miss Buffy," Alfred's warm voice greeted her, his concern palpable in the lines etched across his forehead. However, as his eyes fell upon the glistening trails marking her cheeks, his voice trailed off. "What's wrong?" he inquired gently, already fearing the worst.

Buffy's voice trembled as she tried to speak, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "T-Thomas," she managed to stutter before the words became lost, and she found solace in burying her head into the comfort of Alfred's waiting embrace.

Alfred held her tenderly, feeling the weight of her sorrow radiate through every sob that wracked her small frame. He wished he possessed the words to console her, to mend her shattered heart, but he understood that certain pains couldn't be eased by mere words.

From across the room, Bruce's gaze lingered on the scene, his own uncertainty mirrored in Alfred's eyes. The shared dilemma of how to console a grieving teenager seemed to bind them in their helplessness. Bruce, feeling out of his depth in situations like these, turned and retreated into his study, realizing that they needed an expert who could empathize with Buffy's pain.

Picking up the phone, he dialed the number of his old partner and confidante, Barbara Gordon. "Barbara, it's Bruce. I need your help," he began, his voice carrying an urgency that only a parent could understand.

Barbara's voice on the other end of the line held a mixture of familiarity and readiness. "Anything, Bruce. What do you need?"

"It's Buffy," Bruce explained, his voice softening with concern. He recounted the situation, trusting Barbara's ability to guide them through this unfamiliar territory. "I think she could use a woman's perspective right now."

Barbara's response was immediate and reassuring. "Say no more. I'll be right there."

As the minutes ticked by, Barbara arrived at Wayne Manor, her presence a soothing balm in the midst of Buffy's distress. She spoke with the girl, gently coaxing out the details and lending a sympathetic ear. Eventually, she whisked Buffy away for a change of scenery, treating her to ice cream and conversation.

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The ice cream parlor exuded a comforting charm as Barbara and Buffy settled into a corner booth. Soft, pastel hues adorned the walls, and the sweet scent of freshly churned ice cream lingered in the air, offering a sense of respite from the emotional storm that had enveloped Buffy's day.

Buffy's fingers traced the rim of her ice cream dish, her gaze distant as she battled to find the right words. Barbara, sitting across from her, exuded an air of empathy, a silent invitation for Buffy to share her feelings when she was ready.

"I thought he cared about me," Buffy finally said, her voice tinged with a mixture of vulnerability and confusion. Her eyes, usually so lively, held a depth of sadness that spoke volumes about the pain she was experiencing.

Barbara's expression softened, and she leaned forward, her own ice cream momentarily forgotten. "He probably did, Buffy. But sometimes, circumstances change, and people change too. It's not a reflection of your worth."

Buffy's gaze remained fixed on her dessert, a swirl of emotions churning within her. "It just hurts," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought we were good together."

Barbara reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on top of Buffy's. "Breakups are never easy, especially the first ones. They make you question everything, even yourself. But you have to remember, you're strong, Buffy. This pain will fade, and you'll come out of it even stronger."

A small, melancholic smile tugged at the corners of Buffy's lips. "You've been through this too, haven't you?"

Barbara's eyes held a mixture of understanding and nostalgia. "Yes, I have. We all have our share of heartaches. It's part of growing up, part of learning who we are and what we deserve."

Buffy sighed, her shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of the world. "I just wish it didn't hurt so much."

Barbara's hand squeezed Buffy's gently, a gesture of solidarity. "It's okay to hurt, Buffy. Your feelings are valid. But don't let this define you. You're so much more than this moment."

As they sat in the ice cream parlor, the quiet murmur of conversations around them provided a backdrop to their heart-to-heart. Barbara continued to offer words of wisdom, sharing stories of her own experiences and the lessons she had learned along the way. She imparted the importance of self-care, leaning on friends and family, and embracing the journey of healing.

Touched by the depth of their conversation, Buffy's voice quivered as she uttered words she had never openly admitted before. "Barbara, I wish you could be my mom," she confided, her eyes glistening with unshed tears that carried a mixture of longing and vulnerability.

Barbara, her heart swelling with empathy, met Buffy's gaze with a tender smile. The weight of those words wasn't lost on her; they held a yearning that transcended the circumstances that had brought them together in that ice cream parlor booth. "Oh, Buffy," she said softly, her voice laced with understanding and affection.

Reaching across the table, Barbara gently cupped Buffy's cheek, her touch a soothing balm for the wounds that had been reopened. "I'm here for you, Buffy," she assured her, her words carrying the weight of a maternal promise. "You're not alone in this journey."

Buffy's eyes brimmed with tears, and a mixture of emotions swirled within her. Gratitude, for the genuine care and guidance that Barbara offered. Longing, for a maternal presence she had missed throughout her life. But above all, a sense of belonging, as she realized that family wasn't just about blood ties; it was also about the connections that were formed through shared experiences and genuine love.

As they sat there, the ice cream before them forgotten, the air in the parlor seemed to shimmer with a newfound closeness. Buffy's vulnerability had opened a door to a deeper bond between them, one that transcended the roles of mentor and mentee. Barbara's response was a silent promise, a commitment to stand by Buffy's side through every challenge and triumph that lay ahead.

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Upon their return to Wayne Manor, Bruce and Alfred observed the marked difference in Buffy's demeanor. While the pain was still evident, a glimmer of something resembling relief shone through. They exchanged a knowing look, acknowledging that sometimes, only someone who had walked a similar path could provide the healing touch needed during these moments of heartbreak.

"Bruce, can I have a word with you?" Barbara's voice was a quiet request, laden with a depth of emotion that mirrored the day's revelations.

"Of course," Bruce responded, his expression one of attentive concern. He led Barbara into his study, a space that had witnessed its fair share of contemplation and decision-making. "So, how did everything go?" he inquired, his eyes reflecting both gratitude and admiration for the role Barbara had played in Buffy's life.

Barbara offered a small smile, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "We had a good talk. I think she's going to be alright, given time."

Bruce nodded, his appreciation for Barbara's guidance evident in his gaze. "Thank you for being there for her. I know I couldn't have offered the same kind of support."

Barbara's eyes softened, and she approached his desk, taking a seat across from him. "Bruce, there's something Buffy said that I think you should know."

His brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across his features. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, Barbara shared the moment of vulnerability Buffy had displayed at the ice cream parlor. "She told me she wished I could be her mother."

Bruce's gaze held a mixture of surprise and understanding. He leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "That must have been difficult for her to say."

Barbara nodded; her voice tinged with empathy. "It was. But it also speaks to the bond we've been building, the trust she has in me. Bruce, she's hurting, and she's seeking a mother figure to fill that void."

Bruce's jaw set in a firm line as he grappled with the gravity of Buffy's revelation. The responsibility he bore as Buffy's adoptive father had always been a solemn one, but this new layer of complexity added an unexpected weight to their relationship. The idea that his role might be insufficient to fill the void she felt tugged at his heart.

His voice carried a tinge of vulnerability as he confessed, "I don't want her to feel alone."

Barbara's gesture was a silent reassurance that transcended words. Her hand reached across the expanse of the desk, the touch of her fingers offering a gentle solace. "Bruce, you're not alone in navigating this journey. Buffy knows you love her deeply, but sometimes, a young woman requires a perspective that's relatable in a different way. That's where I can come in."

As their eyes met, a symphony of gratitude and respect played out in the unspoken depths of their shared understanding. Bruce found himself touched by Barbara's ability to offer insight and compassion, his respect for her only deepening in the face of this vulnerable moment.

"Thank you, Barbara," he voiced sincerely, a weight lifted by the realization that he didn't have to shoulder this challenge alone.

Barbara's response came in the form of a gentle squeeze, a tangible reminder of their solidarity. "My days as Batgirl may be behind me, but that doesn't mean we're no longer a team. We're still in this together, Bruce, just in a different capacity. And together, we'll guide Buffy through this difficult phase."

---

Chapter 6: Year Eleven

January 20th, 1997

"Buffy, are you sure you're ready?" Bruce asked, a mix of pride and trepidation in his eyes as he looked at his daughter. The gravity of this milestone weighed heavily on his heart.

Buffy's smile radiated with determination and excitement. "More than ready, dad," she affirmed, her voice filled with the fervor of youth and newfound independence.

As he handed Buffy the keys, Bruce's heart sank with apprehension. The act of entrusting his daughter with the responsibility of driving marked a significant transition in her life, and he couldn't help but feel the weight of worry in the pit of his stomach. Teaching Buffy to drive had been a looming fear for as long as he could remember, and now that day had arrived.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Bruce couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability. He tried his best to guide her, but his fear for her safety overwhelmed him at times. As they embarked on their driving lesson, he couldn't help but be an overprotective parent, constantly warning her to watch out for every potential hazard.

Despite the near-misses and close calls, Buffy remained determined and eager to learn. Her determination was matched only by Bruce's fierce desire to keep her safe. The driving lesson turned into a rollercoaster of emotions, filled with both frustration and pride as they navigated the challenges of learning to drive together.

By the time they finally returned home, Bruce was visibly shaken. The experience had been more than he had anticipated, and the weight of the responsibility bore heavily on him. Passing Alfred, he reluctantly handed the man the keys, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. "Next time you take her out," he confessed, his voice laden with emotions he struggled to contain.

As Alfred took the keys from Bruce, he nodded understandingly, his eyes holding a mix of empathy and reassurance. "Of course, Master Bruce. I will take Miss Buffy out for her driving lesson," he said, his calm demeanor offering a sense of comfort amidst the emotional turmoil.

Buffy, still brimming with enthusiasm despite the earlier challenges, turned to Alfred with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Alfred. I promise I'll do my best," she said, her determination shining through.

Alfred returned her smile, his warmth evident in his voice. "I have no doubt you will, Miss Buffy. Learning to drive can be daunting, but with practice and patience, you'll soon master it."

As they stepped outside, Alfred took a moment to adjust the mirrors and ensure everything was in order before they set off on the road. His years of experience as a butler had taught him the value of patience and understanding, and he approached this driving lesson with the same care and attentiveness he gave to every aspect of his duties.

Under Alfred's guidance, Buffy felt more at ease. His calm presence was a soothing balm to the anxiety that had plagued her earlier. He provided gentle encouragement and clear instructions, making her feel more confident behind the wheel.

As they navigated the streets of Gotham, Buffy's focus sharpened, and she absorbed Alfred's teachings like a sponge. She learned to anticipate potential hazards and to stay mindful of her surroundings. With every turn and maneuver, her confidence grew, and the fear that had gripped Bruce earlier began to dissipate.

"Very good, Miss Buffy," Alfred praised, his voice a steady source of encouragement. "You're doing splendidly."

Buffy beamed with pride, appreciating Alfred's unwavering support. Learning to drive became more than just acquiring a new skill; it became a shared experience that deepened the bond between Buffy and Alfred. The open road before them seemed to symbolize the journey of life, and together, they embraced its challenges and triumphs.

With each passing mile, Buffy felt a sense of empowerment and independence. She knew that she had her father's support, even if he couldn't be there with her in the car, and that gave her the strength to face whatever lay ahead.

As they returned to Wayne Manor, Buffy's eyes glimmered with newfound confidence. "Thank you, Alfred," she said gratefully. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Alfred smiled warmly, his heart swelling with pride. "It was my pleasure, Miss Buffy. Remember, the journey of learning is ongoing, and you have the determination to succeed in any endeavor you set your mind to."

As they shared this heartwarming moment, Buffy mustered the courage to express a question that had been on her mind. Her voice trembled slightly with a touch of nervousness as she broached the topic close to her heart. "Alfred," she began, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "I know Dad is still training me to be Robin. But do you think, when he feels I'm ready to be Robin, that he will let me drive the Batmobile?"

Alfred considered her question thoughtfully, his kind eyes holding a wealth of wisdom. "Master Bruce holds your safety and well-being above all else," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and concern. "It's true that driving the Batmobile is a tremendous responsibility, and he may have his reservations. However, I believe he will consider your growth and readiness when making that decision."

Buffy nodded, understanding the weight of the responsibility that came with being a member of Batman's team. Her father's protectiveness had always been a pillar of their relationship, and she knew it would extend to every aspect of her training, including the possibility of driving the Batmobile.

Alfred placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, offering his unwavering support. "Rest assured, Miss Buffy, your father believes in you wholeheartedly. When the time is right, I have no doubt he will entrust you with that responsibility."