Summary: 15 years after the Summers family left Gotham for California. Buffy and Dawn return to Gotham to meet up with old friends. Little do they know they will get entangled in a new destiny.
Pairing: Buffy/Bruce - Epilogue only * Dawn/No Pairing
A/U: Set Post BTVS during Nolan's Dark Knight Trilogy.
Note: Parts of this story takes place at the same time as Slayer Begins 3: Ironheart
Disclaimer: Warner Bros. Discovery owns Batman and Disney owns Buffy.
Prologue
May 13, 1989 – Saturday
Greenhouse, Wayne Manor
Buffy's mind flashed back to the garden behind the mansion where her dear childhood friend, Bruce Wayne, had resided with his now-deceased parents. In those days, she shared a close bond with Bruce and Rachel until her thirteenth birthday, when her family relocated to Los Angeles, taking her and her younger sister, Dawn, across the country. Buffy's parents, along with Rachel's, resided in the servant quarters on the estate, as her father worked for Wayne Enterprises, while her mother served as one of the two housekeepers, the other being Rachel's mother.
Fond memories of their adventures filled Buffy's thoughts. Often, they would rendezvous at the servant's quarters or explore every nook and cranny of the grand mansion. Once, they even dared to request access to the guest house near the front gates, but Bruce's mother disapproved, believing it to be unwise. Nonetheless, they had the freedom to roam anywhere else on the expansive grounds.
One such place they frequented was the garden, where they would engage in lively games of hide and seek, using most of the garden's ample hiding spots. However, the greenhouse remained off-limits, usually locked and inaccessible. That changed one day when Alfred, the Wayne family's trusted butler, unintentionally left the door slightly ajar.
With caution, Bruce, Buffy, and Rachel clasped hands and ventured inside. Bruce, taking a moment to survey the surroundings, released the girls' hands and looked around at rows of tables covered with potted plants and tools. Rachel and Buffy went on ahead of Bruce and deciding to tease their friend crawled under one of the long tables.
"Rachel, Buffy?" called out Bruce from the entrance.
Buffy and Rachel ceased their crawling, turning their attention to Bruce, as he approached them. Rachel's hand was tightly clenched above her head, concealing something intriguing. Bruce sensed they had stumbled upon a treasure of sorts.
"Can I have a look?" Bruce inquired.
"Finders keepers," Rachel replied, grinning mischievously while Buffy burst into giggles. "I found it."
"In my greenhouse," Bruce pointed out.
Rachel's smile transformed into a frown, mirrored by Buffy's abrupt cessation of laughter. The two girls exchanged a silent conversation, their expressions soon lighting up again as Rachel opened her hand. Nestled within her palm was a stone arrowhead.
Their joyous moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps passing by outside. Acting swiftly, Buffy covered Bruce's mouth with her hand.
"Buffy? Rachel?! Master Bruce?!" came Alfred's voice.
"What are you doing?!" Bruce whispered; his voice filled with urgency.
"Kidnapping you," Rachel stated with a matter-of-fact tone. "They're willing to pay a hefty sum for precious Brucie."
Bruce's eyes widened as he observed the smiling girls. Acting swiftly, he snatched the arrowhead, stuffed it into his pocket, and bolted out the nearest door, seeking refuge. "Finders keepers!" he called back to them.
Buffy and Rachel immediately gave chase, witnessing Bruce as he scaled the top of the well. Suddenly, a creaking noise reverberated, followed by a loud crash from below. Hastily, they reached the well's edge and peered down, spotting Bruce beneath them, having fallen through.
"BRUCE?!" Buffy and Rachel yelled simultaneously.
"I'll go get help. Stay here," Rachel declared as she sprinted toward the house.
"Hold on, Bruce!" Buffy shouted; her voice filled with concern. She glanced down the well, barely catching his faint groans.
"Mom! Mister Alfred!" Rachel's voice echoed urgently.
Abruptly, Buffy heard a piercing screech as something ascended from the well. A dark and terrifying entity emerged, accompanied by a swarm of hundreds of bats, flapping and screeching. They mercilessly tore at Buffy's clothing and hair, prompting her to scream in terror.
And just as abruptly as they appeared, the swarm vanished. The piercing shrieks subsided. Buffy lay on the ground, gasping and sobbing. She could barely register the sound of Bruce sobbing from below.
Buffy heard her name being called, and when she looked up, she saw Rachel, Alfred, her mother, and Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father, walking towards her. Joyce Summers enveloped her daughter in a warm blanket as Thomas descended a rope to retrieve Bruce.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Thomas Wayne carried Bruce while Alfred gently carried Buffy, both of them carefully supporting the shaken children as Rachel and Joyce walked alongside. "Shall I call an ambulance, Master Wayne?" Alfred inquired.
"We have everything we need," Thomas replied. "I'll have them undergo X-rays later. For now, we'll begin a rabies treatment for Buffy and Bruce." He turned to Joyce. "With your permission, of course."
"Whatever you believe is necessary, Master Wayne," Joyce responded, concern for her daughter evident in her voice.
Bruce, wearing a gentle smile, extended his hand to Rachel. As she joined him, he tenderly placed the arrowhead in her open palm. Rachel's tear-stained face brightened slightly as she looked up at Bruce and then Buffy.
Servants' Quarters, Wayne Manor
In the depths of the night, Buffy lay in her bed, enveloped by the darkness that had settled around her. As she drifted deeper into slumber, her mind became a canvas for haunting visions. A sense of unease crept over her, and she was transported to a place she had hoped to forget.
In her nightmare, she found herself back in the garden of the mansion. But the tranquil beauty had twisted into something ominous and unsettling. The moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows that danced menacingly across the garden.
Buffy's heart began to race as she heard the faintest of screeches, like a distant warning. Her eyes darted around the garden, seeking the source of her unease. Suddenly, the air grew heavy, and the screeches multiplied, filling the night with their sinister chorus.
From the corners of her vision, dark, shadowy figures emerged, their wings outstretched, and their eyes gleaming with malevolence. Bats. Hundreds of them, descending upon her with a relentless fury. Their wings beat against the air, creating a cacophony that drowned out her cries for help.
Buffy tried to flee, but her limbs felt heavy, as if rooted to the ground. The bats closed in, their sharp talons grazing her skin as they tore at her clothing. Their screeches grew louder, filling her ears with an agonizing, high-pitched symphony of terror.
She could see their fangs, glistening in the moonlight, and their blood-red eyes, fixated on her with an unrelenting hunger. Panic seized her, and she screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the relentless onslaught.
Desperation coursed through her, and with a surge of adrenaline, she managed to break free from her immobile state. She stumbled and fell, trying to escape the relentless swarm, but they pursued her relentlessly, a nightmarish cyclone of darkness and despair.
May 14, 1989 – Sunday
Servants' Quarters, Wayne Manor
Buffy opened her eyes, the remnants of fear still etched in her gaze, to find her mother standing by her side. Joyce's gentle inquiry broke the silence of the night, "Did you have a bad dream?"
Buffy nodded; her voice momentarily stolen by the lingering anxiety. She couldn't bring herself to put into words the horrors that had haunted her sleep.
"The bats?" Joyce asked, her tone filled with understanding as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Again, Buffy nodded, her anxiety palpable in the way her body trembled.
In a gesture of boundless love, Joyce pulled her daughter into a warm embrace, enfolding her tightly in her arms. "The bats can't hurt you, sweetheart," she reassured, her voice a soothing balm. "It was just a dream, and you're safe here with me."
Buffy buried her face in her mother's shoulder, finding solace in the comforting presence that had always been a source of strength. Joyce continued to hold her daughter tightly, providing a sense of security that eased the remnants of fear still lingering within Buffy's heart.
"You know, sometimes our minds play tricks on us when we're asleep," Joyce whispered soothingly, her words like a gentle lullaby. "But in reality, there's nothing to be afraid of. I'm here to protect you, always."
Buffy's grip on her mother tightened, as if seeking reassurance from her touch. Slowly, the remnants of the nightmare began to fade, replaced by a sense of warmth and love that only a mother's embrace could provide. In her mother's arms, Buffy found the strength to banish the shadows of her dream and embrace the safety of reality once more.
June 22, 1989 – Thursday
Servants' Quarters, Wayne Manor
"Thank you, Master Wayne, for extending the invitation to Buffy," Joyce expressed gratefully, her eyes reflecting sincere appreciation for the kind gesture.
Thomas had made a special visit to the servant quarters upon his son's request, inviting both Buffy and Rachel to join them and his wife Martha for the opera that evening. While Rachel's mother had regretfully declined due to familial commitments, Joyce and Hank had agreed on behalf of Buffy.
Thomas smiled warmly, his eyes holding a fondness for the young girl. "The gratitude should be directed towards Bruce," he replied humbly. "He insisted that both Buffy and Rachel accompany us to the opera tonight. Although Rachel couldn't make it, I promised Bruce that Buffy could attend, and I always keep my word. Moreover, Martha and I have come to consider both girls as our own daughters in a way. In fact, we wanted to discuss with you and Hank the possibility of setting up a college fund for Buffy."
Joyce shook her head, her appreciation mingling with a sense of hesitation. "That's an incredibly generous offer, but Hank and I truly..."
"I won't accept no as an answer," Thomas interrupted firmly, his tone unwavering.
Joyce met Thomas's gaze, struck by his determination and the depth of his commitment to Buffy's future. Gratitude swelled within her as she realized the genuine care and support that Thomas and his wife held for her daughter. Despite her initial reservations, she understood that this act of generosity was a sincere gesture from someone who saw Buffy's potential and wished to contribute to her future.
With a nod, Joyce accepted the offer, her heart touched by the significance of this opportunity for her daughter. The prospect of a college fund provided a glimmer of hope, opening doors that might have otherwise remained closed.
"Thank you, Master Wayne," Joyce finally said, her voice trembling with heartfelt appreciation. "Your belief in Buffy means the world to us, and we are truly grateful for your support." Her words carried the weight of a mother's gratitude and the depth of her understanding of the opportunity that lay ahead for her daughter, thanks to the Wayne family's generosity.
Monorail, Gotham City
Twenty minutes later, Bruce and Buffy settled into a train car, their steps followed by Bruce's parents, finding available seats by the window. As the train began its journey, they both gazed out at the cityscape of Gotham passing by in a blur, the rhythmic clattering of the tracks providing a soothing backdrop to their thoughts.
"Did you personally build this train, Dad?" Bruce inquired, his curiosity piqued, his eyes reflecting the admiration he held for his father's achievements.
Thomas sighed, a mixture of pride and concern evident on his face as he considered his son's question. "Gotham has been good to our family, Bruce, but lately, the city has been going through difficult times. Many people, less fortunate than us, are facing hardships." He leaned in closer to Bruce and Buffy, his tone gentle but earnest. "That's one of the reasons I offered, Buffy, to cover the costs of your college education when you're older."
Buffy blinked in surprise, her young mind grappling with the weight of such an offer. At the tender age of eight, the concept of adulthood and its implications hadn't crossed her mind before. She was taken aback by the generous gesture and the trust the Wayne family had placed in her.
"Wow, thank you, Master Wayne," she replied, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. Her gaze shifted between Thomas and Martha, her heart touched by their kindness. "And thank you for letting me join you and Bruce tonight."
A warm smile graced Thomas' lips, his pride in his son and his affection for Buffy shining through. "Thank Bruce for that," he said, nodding toward his son. "He convinced both me and Martha to allow you to come along."
Buffy turned to Bruce, her eyes filled with appreciation, and without hesitation, she embraced him tightly, a heartfelt hug that conveyed her gratitude. Bruce, slightly bashful but genuinely pleased, received the hug with a shy smile, a silent acknowledgment of the friendship that had brought them all together on this special evening.
Thomas traced a circle on the condensation-covered window, a thoughtful expression on his face. "In any case, we've constructed a new, affordable public transportation system to bring Gotham together."
Martha interjected; her voice filled with pride as she pointed outside the window. "And at the heart of it all is Wayne Tower."
Bruce's curiosity was once again piqued as he asked, "Is that where you work?"
Thomas shook his head, a wistful smile on his lips. "No, I work at the hospital. I entrust the management of our company to better men."
"Better?" Buffy inquired, seeking clarification.
Thomas chuckled softly, his deep voice carrying a touch of humor. "Well … more interested men."
As the train gradually decelerated, Martha directed their attention to a colossal skyscraper looming in the distance. "That's Wayne Tower," she announced, her pride in the family legacy evident.
The train glided beneath a roof, releasing a soft hiss before coming to a complete stop. "Here we are," Thomas declared, signaling their arrival with a nod, the platform outside now waiting to welcome them to the bustling heart of Gotham City.
Gotham City Opera House, Gotham City
The Waynes and Buffy disembarked from the train, seamlessly blending into the bustling crowd of commuters. They moved with purpose beneath an expansive vaulted ceiling, their steps echoing through the grandeur of the station. Soon, they reached a wide door that led to a covered walkway, connecting the station to the towering Wayne Tower. Buffy's gaze was drawn to an arrow-shaped sign overhead, indicating "TO OPERA HOUSE."
Following the arrow's direction, Bruce's hand intertwined with his father's, the bond between them evident in their synchronized movements. In a similar manner, Buffy found solace as her hand slipped into Martha's grasp, a gesture that conveyed a sense of belonging.
As they ascended the escalator, they continued their journey through a corridor adorned with richly clad red walls and plush carpeting. The opulence of their surroundings was not lost on Buffy, who marveled at the elegance that surrounded her.
Finally, they entered a door where Thomas handed four tickets to a woman who smiled warmly, her demeanor exuding an air of hospitality. She guided them down an aisle to their designated row of cushioned seats, each one offering a perfect view of the upcoming performance.
Thomas leaned closer to Martha, his voice a hushed whisper amidst the anticipation that filled the air. "I forgot to ask, what exactly are we seeing tonight?"
"It's Mefistofele, by Boito," Martha responded confidently, her knowledge of the evening's entertainment evident.
"Ah, a French production?" Thomas inquired, seeking clarification.
Martha nodded with assurance. "Yes, and it comes highly recommended. It's excellent."
"Good to hear," Thomas acknowledged, reclining comfortably in his chair, ready to enjoy the evening's cultural offering with his family and their cherished guest, Buffy.
Moments later, the symphony of musicians initiated their melodic overture, and the grand red curtain gracefully ascended. Buffy's eyes widened with fascination as the actors took the stage, delivering their performances with fervor, their voices blending seamlessly with the music. The grandeur of the opera captivated her, and for a brief moment, she was lost in the world of art and culture.
However, as the scene unfolded, something unexpected occurred. Bats, suspended by wires, descended from above, their wings fluttering as they circled over the actors' heads. The sight triggered a visceral reaction in Buffy, her breath hitching, and her trembling becoming palpable. The memories of her nightmare rushed back to the surface, and she felt a wave of panic wash over her.
Sensing Buffy's distress, Martha, a concerned expression etched on her face, directed her attention to the young girl. "Buffy, what's wrong?" she inquired, her voice filled with empathy and worry. Her gaze then shifted to her son when she noticed he, too, was having a similar reaction to what was happening on stage. "Sweetheart, is something the matter?"
Bruce and Buffy struggled to catch their breath, their hearts racing, unable to articulate their unease to Martha. The bats on stage seemed too real, their presence evoking deep-seated fears neither of them had fully shared with their loved ones.
Finally, Bruce managed to grasp his father's arm, urgency resonating in his voice. "Can we leave?!" he implored, his eyes pleading for understanding.
Martha exchanged a worried glance with Thomas, her silent inquiry hanging in the air, seeking his guidance in this unexpected and distressing situation.
Thomas averted his gaze from Martha, his attention focused on Bruce and Buffy. The realization struck him instantly as he glanced at the bats onstage. Joyce had confided in him about Buffy's nightmares involving bats, similar to those experienced by his own son. He knew the depth of fear that these creatures held for both children. "I guess we'd better," he finally admitted, his voice tinged with understanding and concern. The well-being of Bruce and Buffy took precedence, and he made the difficult decision to leave the opera, sparing them from any further distress.
Rising from his seat, Thomas reached out and gently grasped Bruce's hand, his touch a reassuring anchor. "Take it easy," he murmured, offering his son comfort in the midst of the unexpected situation. Martha, holding Buffy's hand, followed closely behind as they made their way across the plush, carpeted floor, descending the stairs, and finally stepping out onto the street through the fire exit.
As the cool night air enveloped them, Thomas attempted to lighten the mood. "We'll just take a few minutes to get some fresh air," he suggested with a warm smile. "A little opera can be overwhelming, right, Bruce? Right, Buffy?" He glanced down at the two young ones, their eyes still reflecting apprehension.
Bruce and Buffy looked up at Thomas, their unease palpable. However, his reassuring wink brought a glimmer of reassurance, and they nodded in agreement.
"How about we go for a little walk?" Thomas proposed, his tone inviting and gentle.
Bruce and Buffy nodded once more, finding solace in the prospect of stepping away from the unsettling opera scene.
"Come on," Thomas encouraged, leading the way as they strolled beneath the looming shadow of Wayne Tower, the weight of the world momentarily lifted from their shoulders.
However, their newfound sense of calm was shattered when they noticed a shadowy figure approaching them with menacing intent. Their hearts quickened, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through their veins as they caught sight of something metallic glinting under the dim light of a nearby streetlamp.
The man's demands were harsh and urgent, his voice filled with desperation and menace. "Wallet, jewelry—quick!" he commanded, leaving no room for negotiation. The unexpected turn of events had thrust them into a situation far more dangerous than the opera's bats had ever been.
Amidst the palpable tension, Thomas remained a pillar of strength and composure, his protective instincts taking over as he positioned himself resolutely between the intruder and his family, including young Buffy. His actions were a testament to his unwavering dedication to their safety. In an act of selflessness, he bravely shrugged off his overcoat and handed it to Bruce, as if trying to shield them from the danger that loomed before them. "Here you go," he said calmly, his voice carrying an air of authority that seemed to momentarily give them hope.
But the intruder's desperation was palpable, and he showed no signs of backing down. "Hurry up," he pressed, his own fear mingling with aggression, his grip on the situation slipping into chaos.
Unfazed by the tension that hung in the air, Thomas took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. With a steady hand, he reached into his jacket, retrieving his wallet, and extended it toward the man. "Here you are," he offered, his voice unwavering despite the danger they were in.
Yet, in the face of fear and uncertainty, the man's hand trembled, unable to secure the grip on the wallet. The moment was fraught with tension, the wallet slipping through the intruder's grasp and falling to the ground, a small symbol of the chaotic and unpredictable nature of the situation.
"It's all right, don't worry," Thomas assured, his soothing words an attempt to defuse the mounting tension and avoid any further escalation.
Kneeling on the pavement, the man groped for the fallen wallet, his trembling hands revealing his desperation. Bruce and Buffy, their eyes wide with fear, recognized the object the man brandished—a gun—as they had seen similar images in the newspapers.
The gun trembled uncontrollably in the man's hand, a clear sign of his heightened anxiety and desperation.
With the wallet finally in hand, the man pocketed it hastily, but his desperation didn't dissipate. "Just take it and go," Thomas implored, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and determination, hoping to bring an end to the terrifying ordeal and protect his family.
But the man's demands were relentless, and his gaze shifted from Thomas to Martha, and then to Buffy. "I said jewelry, too," he insisted, his voice growing more agitated, his own desperation pushing him further into a corner.
Buffy's heart sank as she felt the weight of the locket around her neck, a cherished possession that held the memory of her departed cousin, Celia. She knew she had to comply with the intruder's demands, but it felt like parting with a piece of her heart. Her trembling fingers unfastened the delicate locket, revealing the precious picture of Celia inside—a symbol of their unbreakable bond.
"Please, sir," Buffy pleaded, her voice quivering, and her eyes filled with tears. Her vulnerability and desperation were palpable, and she couldn't hold back the emotions that surged within her. "This has a picture of my cousin in it. It's the only thing I have left to remember her by."
In that vulnerable moment, Buffy's heartache was evident, and the locket felt heavier than ever in her hand. The memories of her dear cousin, gone too soon, flooded her mind, and the fear of losing this last connection to Celia gripped her soul. In that instance, she not only pleaded for the locket's safety but also for the preservation of the love and memories it represented, her voice carrying the weight of her anguish and the depth of her plea.
Martha's hands trembled as she began to remove her precious diamond engagement ring, her heart heavy with the realization that she had no choice but to comply with the intruder's demands. But before she could hand it over, Thomas stepped forward, his voice determined, a flicker of bravery in his eyes. "Hey, just—"
In an instant, the air was filled with a deafening sound, a chilling collision of two worlds—the sound of life being disrupted by violence. Bruce and Buffy turned to Thomas, seeking an explanation, their young minds struggling to grasp the sudden turn of events. But what they saw before them was a sight that would haunt their nightmares forever.
Thomas stood frozen, staring down at a horrifying sight—a spreading red stain on his pristine white shirt, emanating from a small, ominous black hole. Shock and confusion clouded Bruce and Buffy's minds, and dread gripped their souls as they realized what had just transpired. Time seemed to stand still as their world shattered before their eyes, the enormity of the tragedy unfolding in front of them.
In a heartbreaking moment, Thomas collapsed, his body crumpling to the ground, leaving Martha to let out a gut-wrenching scream of despair. As she instinctively reached to protect herself, the assailant seized the strand of pearls adorning her neck, eager to take whatever he could from them. Martha resisted, clinging to her memories and the precious heirloom that held sentimental value beyond measure.
The man's frustration and anger surged, demanding her compliance with force. "Gimme the damn—" he barked; his voice laced with menace.
But before he could finish his sentence, another gunshot echoed through the alley, a piercing reminder of the darkness that had engulfed their lives. The man's grip tightened around the pearl necklace, wrenching it away with callous disregard. Pearls cascaded past Bruce and Buffy's faces, each one a poignant symbol of the life they once knew, now shattered like the pearls scattered on the cold pavement.
In that moment, as the echoes of violence faded into the night, Bruce and Buffy were left to grapple with the harrowing reality of a world forever changed, their innocence stolen, and the weight of loss etched into their young hearts.
Bruce and Buffy stood there, stunned, their young eyes locked with the man's before them. In that tense moment, a palpable energy filled the air, and the world seemed to hold its breath. The intruder's demeanor shifted abruptly, as if an unseen force had pierced through his resolve, causing him to recoil as if stung. A flicker of fear crossed his face before he hastily retreated, vanishing into the shadows, leaving behind the forgotten locket, clutched tightly in Buffy's trembling hands.
Time seemed to lose its usual rhythm as Bruce and Buffy remained rooted to the spot, their minds unable to process the gravity of the situation. Their hearts were heavy with shock, grief, and disbelief. They heard a faint groan, and without hesitation, they leaned in closer to Thomas, their faces mere inches away from his.
"Don't be afraid," Thomas whispered weakly, his voice barely above a murmur, yet filled with an unwavering love and reassurance that washed over Bruce and Buffy like a soothing balm. In that moment, his words served as a tender reminder that love still lingered amidst the darkness, a beacon of hope in the midst of tragedy.
Thomas offered them a gentle smile, a testament to his strength and his unwavering devotion to his family, even in the face of tragedy. And then, with a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, as if seeking solace in the embrace of eternal rest, leaving behind a legacy of love and courage for his son and Buffy to carry forward.
As the minutes ticked by, each moment felt like an eternity, and the weight of their loss pressed upon Bruce and Buffy's hearts like a heavy burden. Their minds were filled with memories of happier times, and they couldn't help but be grateful for the love and guidance Thomas had bestowed upon them throughout their young lives.
Eventually, the sound of approaching sirens pierced through the stillness, and a police officer arrived at the scene, followed by more law enforcement personnel. The reality of the situation became painfully clear as Martha and Thomas were carefully placed inside bags, their lifeless forms a haunting reminder of the fragility of life and the darkness that could intrude upon even the most cherished moments.
Gotham City Police Department, Gotham City
Bruce and Buffy found themselves in a large, unfamiliar building, their hearts heavy with sorrow and uncertainty. As they were led to chairs, the weight of their emotions seemed to anchor them to the ground. Bruce clung tightly to his father's coat, the fabric a tangible connection to the man he had lost. It was as if the coat held the essence of his father, providing a sense of comfort and security amidst the chaos that engulfed them. Meanwhile, his other hand held onto Buffy, his touch offering a silent reassurance, even as she wept softly, her tears a testament to the depth of their shared pain.
Approaching them with a gentle and compassionate demeanor, a man with thick black hair, a mustache, and warm blue eyes knelt down before Bruce and Buffy. His presence exuded a sense of calm amidst the storm, offering a glimmer of hope in their darkest hour. "Are you both okay?" he asked in a soothing tone, his voice like a lifeline that they clung to desperately.
Bruce and Buffy looked up at the man, his kind eyes reflecting a genuine concern for their well-being. In this sea of uncertainty, he seemed like an anchor, a steady presence they could rely on. "I'm Jim Gordon," he introduced himself, his name carrying a weight of authority and care. "Do you need anything? A sandwich? Soda?" he offered, his concern extending beyond the immediate situation.
Their emotions stirred by his kindness, Bruce and Buffy found themselves opening up to this stranger who felt like a guardian angel in their time of need. Bruce's grip on the coat loosened, and he nodded silently, his grief-stricken eyes meeting Gordon's. The pain they shared was palpable, and in that moment, they found comfort in the presence of someone who understood their anguish.
Sensing their vulnerability, Gordon gently took the coat from Bruce and draped it over his shoulders. The gesture was both tender and protective, as if he sought to shield them from the cold and harsh reality of their circumstances. The coat became a symbol of the love and guidance that Thomas had once provided, and its weight on Bruce's shoulders felt like a soothing embrace, reminding him that he was not alone.
A second man, clad in an officer's uniform, approached with an air of hostility, his presence a stark contrast to Jim Gordon's compassion. The atmosphere crackled with tension as he lashed out, attempting to assert his authority and dominance over the situation. "Gordon! You always have to stick your nose into everything!" he exclaimed loudly, his words tinged with resentment and frustration.
Jim Gordon's response was a study in stoicism, his unwavering expression masking the emotions swirling within him. His silence spoke volumes, a dignified refusal to engage in a futile exchange with his captain.
"Insubordination will get you nowhere," the captain barked, his voice seething with irritation. His attempt to belittle Gordon's actions only further escalated the tension in the room. Dismissing Gordon's presence with disdain, he issued a dismissive command, "Outta my sight."
Despite his captain's aggression, Gordon remained a pillar of strength, his focus unwavering on providing support to Bruce and Buffy. With a gentle touch, he placed his hands on their shoulders, offering them a sense of comfort amidst the chaos. His presence served as a lifeline, a beacon of hope in a situation marred by conflict and hostility.
Without uttering a word in response to his captain's antagonism, Gordon demonstrated his unwavering commitment to the well-being of Bruce and Buffy. With a quiet determination, he pivoted on his heels and walked away, leaving behind the tension and animosity that had momentarily engulfed the scene.
As Gordon retreated, the captain knelt before Bruce and Buffy, his demeanor softened ever so slightly. Introducing himself as Captain Loeb, he attempted to bridge the divide with a glimmer of good news. "We've apprehended him," he revealed, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and solemnity.
June 24, 1989 – Saturday
Wayne Manor
Buffy stood amidst a gathering of mourners, her heart heavy with sorrow as she joined Joyce, Hank, Rachel, and Rachel's parents to pay their last respects at the funeral of Thomas and Martha Wayne. The atmosphere was somber, and the weight of loss seemed to permeate every breath, casting a pall over the gathering.
Dressed in solemn attire, they stood on a patch of land behind the greenhouse, surrounded by an ocean of mourners who had come to bid farewell to the beloved Waynes. Buffy clutched Joyce's hand tightly, seeking strength in the midst of the emotional turmoil that engulfed her.
As the ceremony began, a solemn hush fell upon the group, and they listened with rapt attention to the heartfelt eulogies that painted a vivid portrait of the extraordinary lives Thomas and Martha had lived. The memories shared painted a bittersweet picture of the impact they had made on their loved ones, and the immense void their departure had left behind.
Buffy's eyes welled up with tears as she glanced at Rachel, finding solace and understanding in the eyes of her dear friend. The presence of Rachel's parents, standing nearby with expressions etched with both sorrow and empathy, served as a poignant reminder of the shared grief they all carried.
As the funeral drew to a close, Buffy, Joyce, Hank, Rachel, and the Dawes family lingered for a moment longer, each lost in their own thoughts and memories of the Waynes. With heavy hearts, they paid their final respects, leaving behind flowers as tokens of their love and offering silent prayers for the departed souls.
Upon their departure, Buffy and Rachel glanced up at the windows of Wayne Manor, where they caught sight of Bruce gazing back at them. In that fleeting moment, a glimmer of connection sparked between them, transcending the grief that surrounded them. They waved to Bruce, their gestures infused with warmth and unwavering support. Bruce hesitated momentarily, his emotions evident in his eyes, before returning their wave, silently conveying his gratitude and resilience amidst the weight of his own grief. The bond they shared, forged through shared pain and loss, provided a semblance of comfort as they faced the uncertain road ahead together.
July 11, 1989 – Tuesday
Gotham City Courthouse, Wayne Manor
Buffy sat nervously between her parents, Joyce and Hank, in the crowded courtroom. The atmosphere was heavy with tension, and she could feel the weight of the trial pressing down on her small shoulders. Her parents held her hands tightly, providing a sense of security amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces and the gravity of the situation.
Not far away, Buffy noticed Bruce sitting next to his loyal butler, Alfred. She felt a mixture of sympathy and sadness for her dear friend, knowing that they were both tied to the same tragedy that had brought them to this place. Bruce's presence offered some comfort; they had gone through so much together, and she couldn't bear to see him facing such pain alone.
The trial was a whirlwind of unfamiliar terms and procedures that seemed to blur together in Buffy's young mind. Lawyers spoke with conviction, witnesses shared their accounts, and the judge presided over it all with a stern yet composed demeanor. The gravity of the crime, the murder of Bruce's parents, was not lost on Buffy, even though she was just a child.
Buffy felt a mix of nervousness and determination as she was called to the stand to give her witness testimony in the crowded courtroom. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched the small teddy bear her parents had given her for comfort.
Walking up to the stand, Buffy looked out at the sea of unfamiliar faces, feeling intimidated by the seriousness of the situation. Her parents, Joyce and Hank, smiled encouragingly at her from their seats, and Alfred offered a reassuring nod while Bruce smiled at her from where they sat.
The judge, a stern yet kind figure, looked down at her with gentle eyes, understanding the weight of what she was about to share. "Can you please state your name for the record?" he asked in a soft tone.
"Buffy Anne Summers," she replied in a small voice, trying to steady her nerves.
The prosecutor approached, speaking gently as he guided her through her testimony. "Buffy, can you tell us what you saw on the night of the incident?"
"I saw a man with a gun," Buffy recounted, her voice trembling slightly. "He... he shot Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. They fell down, and then the man ran away."
Her testimony continued, and she did her best to answer the questions as truthfully as she could, describing the events she had witnessed that fateful night. The courtroom listened in silence, and Buffy felt the weight of their attention on her young shoulders.
Throughout her testimony, Buffy's parents and friends watched her with a mix of pride and concern. They knew how difficult it must have been for her to relive those painful memories, but they also admired her bravery and determination to help her friend Bruce seek justice.
As her testimony came to an end, Buffy was excused from the stand, and she quickly made her way back to her parents, seeking comfort in their embrace. Joyce and Hank hugged her tightly, reassuring her that she had done a wonderful job.
Bruce approached with a grateful smile, his eyes reflecting deep gratitude for Buffy's courage. "Thank you, Buffy," he said softly. "Your testimony means a lot to me."
Feeling a sense of relief and accomplishment, Buffy nodded, a shy smile gracing her lips. "You're welcome, Bruce," she replied, grateful that she could be there for her friend in his time of need.
As the trial continued, Buffy's small testimony played a significant role in the pursuit of justice. Her bravery and honesty had made a difference, and she learned that even in her young age, her voice mattered. In that moment, she felt a sense of empowerment, knowing that she could help make the world a better place, one small step at a time.
September 24, 2005 – Saturday
International Slayers Council, London, England
Sixteen long years had passed, but the haunting memories of that tragic night when Thomas and Martha Wayne fell victim to an unspeakable fate still clung to Buffy like relentless shadows. As she woke up in her bedroom at the International Slayers Council in London, the weight of the past bore heavily upon her, stealing the ease of her breath. Startled, she took a moment to steady herself, seeking solace amidst the unsettling echoes of her dreams, yearning for respite from the haunting ghosts of her past.
Feeling the weight of her troubles, Buffy decided to seek refuge in the embrace of the outside world. The air outside beckoned, promising a balm to her restless mind, and she stepped out into the world shared with her devoted sister, Dawn. The bond they shared was a sanctuary, a safe harbor amidst life's storms.
Dawn, engrossed in a book she had been passionately translating, sensed Buffy's turmoil even before she spoke. As Buffy entered, Dawn looked up, her eyes gentle and understanding. "Trouble sleeping?" she inquired, her voice tender and caring, the worry etched on her face.
"Just a bad dream," Buffy confessed, grateful for the caring presence of her sister. The weight of her past burdens felt slightly lighter in Dawn's company. "Do you remember our time in Gotham before we moved to L.A.?" she asked, seeking solace in the shared memories of their past.
Dawn nodded, her mind wandering back to the nostalgic days of their youth. "A little," she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of fondness and wistfulness. "I was about seven when we moved to L.A. I remember the laughter, the joy of hanging out with you, Rachel, and Bruce." The memories painted a bittersweet picture of a time when innocence and friendship had intertwined, before the harsh realities of life's twists and turns took hold.
July 14, 1994 – Friday
Servants' Quarters, Wayne Manor
Buffy and her younger sister, Dawn, stood outside the servants' quarters of Wayne Manor, their parents bustling around them, packing boxes into the moving truck. The decision to leave their beloved city and their dear friends Bruce and Rachel behind weighed heavily on Buffy's young heart.
Bruce and Rachel stood before the sisters, their faces etched with a mixture of sadness and understanding. The bond they had formed over the years was strong, but the imminent separation loomed over them.
"This is really happening," Buffy murmured, her voice infused with a bittersweet melancholy. "We're leaving Gotham."
Rachel's eyes welled up with tears as she reached out to embrace Buffy. "I'm going to miss you desperately, Buffy. It just won't be the same without you."
Buffy held back her own tears as she returned the hug, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'll miss you too, Rach. You've been like a sister to me, and our memories together will forever hold a special place in my heart."
Bruce, known for his composure, struggled to keep his emotions in check. "You're not merely leaving Gotham, Buffy. You're leaving a part of us behind. We've shared joys and sorrows, and our journey together has shaped us in ways we can't fully express." His voice cracked slightly, revealing the depth of his feelings.
Dawn, keenly attuned to the undercurrent of sorrow in the air, clung tightly to Buffy's side, her small hand seeking solace in her sister's grasp. "Will we ever see Bruce and Rachel again, Buffy?" she asked, her voice trembling with anxiety.
Buffy's gaze shifted between her sister and her friends; her heart gripped by a profound sense of uncertainty. "I don't know, Dawnie," she replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "But no matter what happens, we'll always carry the warmth of the memories we shared deep within us."
Their parents' beckoning voices interrupted the poignant moment, signaling that it was time to leave. Buffy and Dawn exchanged one last tearful look with Bruce and Rachel, silently conveying a promise to keep their precious friendship alive despite the cruel distance that lay ahead.
As they settled into the car and the engine roared to life, Buffy rolled down the window and leaned out, her voice a mix of sorrow and hope. "Goodbye, Bruce! Goodbye, Rach! We'll hold you close in our hearts forever!"
Bruce and Rachel waved back, tears streaming down their cheeks, unable to find the right words. "Goodbye, Buffy! Goodbye, Dawn! You'll always be a cherished part of our lives!"
With heavy hearts, the car began to pull away, leaving Bruce and Rachel standing in front of the servants' quarters, their souls tethered to the fleeting image of their dear friends disappearing from sight. The weight of the parting bore down on them, leaving an indelible mark on their souls, a poignant reminder of the bonds that time and distance could not sever.
September 24, 2005 – Saturday
International Slayers Council, London, England
"It's been an eternity since we've seen them," Buffy mused, her voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and longing. "I wonder how they've changed after all these years. I think I'll talk to Giles about taking some time off to go visit them."
Dawn nodded, her eyes reflecting a similar longing for a reunion. Setting her book aside, she added, "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Buffy. I could definitely use a break too."
A soft, heartfelt smile adorned Buffy's lips, the thought of seeing her old friends bringing warmth to her heart. "Great. I'm sure they'd be over the moon to see you again too. It's been far too long, but I have a feeling our bond will be as strong as ever."
As they contemplated the prospect of reuniting with Bruce and Rachel after all these years, the memories of their shared adventures and cherished friendship filled them with hope and anticipation. The passage of time had woven a rich tapestry of experiences, but the bonds forged in their youth remained as unbreakable as ever, waiting to be rekindled.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Later that morning, Buffy and Dawn mustered their courage and stepped into Rupert Giles' office, finding him immersed in a mountain of paperwork. Their hearts were filled with a mix of anxiety and hope as they sought his approval for their heartfelt request. Giles looked up, acknowledging their presence with a warm smile that eased some of their nervousness. "Good morning, Buffy, Dawn," he greeted them warmly.
"Morning," they responded in unison, their voices soft and eager.
Without delay, Buffy took a deep breath, her voice laced with emotion as she shared their intentions. "Giles, Dawn and I would like to request a leave of absence from the ISC. There are some old friends we haven't seen in over sixteen years, and we feel the need to reconnect with them."
Giles, the wise mentor they had grown to trust and rely on, took a moment to contemplate their request. His eyes softened with understanding, recognizing the significance of their desire to revisit cherished memories. Finally, he nodded approvingly, fully supporting their decision. "I believe that's an excellent idea, Buffy. You both have devoted yourselves tirelessly to the ISC, and some time away will do you good. Your friends will surely be delighted to see you again."
As they stepped out of Giles' office, the weight of their past and the excitement of their upcoming journey tugged at Dawn's curiosity. Unable to contain her thoughts any longer, she spoke up hesitantly, "Buffy, I was just thinking... didn't Mr. Wayne set up a college fund for you?"
Buffy's expression turned wistful, a glimmer of sadness touching her eyes. "No, he had discussions about it with Mom and Dad," she admitted, her voice carrying the weight of years gone by. "But he passed away before he could actually set it into motion. That's why I had to rely on grants and scholarships up until Mom passed away when I dropped out to take care of you."
Dawn's voice softened to a gentle whisper as she delicately broached a topic that had long remained unspoken between them. "You never really talked about it, Buffy," she said, her eyes filled with concern and understanding.
Buffy met Dawn's gaze, acknowledging the unspoken reference to the haunting events of that fateful night when Thomas and Martha Wayne's lives were tragically cut short by Joe Chill's bullets. Her expression grew somber, her heart heavy with the weight of memories she had tried to shield away for so long. "It was a dark and painful time for me," she confessed, her voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and strength. "That's why I have such a deep aversion to guns. I was just eight years old, and it's still difficult to talk about it even now. They were taken from us right before mine and Bruce's eyes, leaving scars that have never truly healed. Prior to that, I had only experienced one other loss, and we both know how deeply Celia's death affected me."
Dawn nodded with empathy, her heart aching for her sister as she realized the weight of the pain Buffy had silently shouldered for so long. Unable to bear the emotional distance any longer, she wrapped her arms around Buffy in a tender embrace, seeking to offer solace and unwavering support. "You dream about it, don't you?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and concern.
"Almost every night," Buffy admitted with a heavy sigh, the weight of those haunting memories etched upon her face. The pain of that fateful night still haunted her, creeping into her dreams like a relentless ghost, refusing to let her find peace. It was a burden she had carried in silence, and now, in the warmth of Dawn's embrace, the dam of emotions threatened to break, and she found comfort in finally sharing her pain with someone who understood and cared deeply.