Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy or Batman. Buffy and related characters belong to Whedon. Batman and related characters belong to DC and WB.
Warnings: Light violence and light spoilers for another fic of mine—but not enough to be unable to read this one on its own.
A/N: This is a sort of companion to a chaptered fic I did long ago called Crimson Princess (can be found under my screen name PatriciaLouise at TTH) as well as yesterday’s ficlet for this challenge, which was entitled, “Always the Crazies.” Other than after the end of the Buffy series, there’s no particular setting for Batman.
“Talk!” Harley shouted, smacking the handle of her over-large pistol against his shoulder.
Xander cried out, turning his head away from the blow. For the past few hours, he’d been drifting in and out between states of extreme pain and trying to figure out how the hell he always ended up being someone’s butt-monkey. A simple reconnaissance trip to Gotham to make sure that nothing else in the realm of the supernatural had risen since last Buffy had been there… and this is what he had gotten. One lousy vamp dusting, and Mrs. Crazy-Jester-Woman had thought he would, apparently, have an all-knowing fount of knowledge on her “Mistah J.” Buffy had warned Xander about the Joker and his little girlfriend, but he had been sure that his little mission for the slayers would not lead him anywhere close to that little devious duo.
Oh, how wrong he had been.
“Where’s my puddin’?” Harley whined now, aiming a hard kick at his left shin.
That blow really stung, for some reason, more than full-out hurt. But Xander still got the point. He spat out a tiny bit of blood from a previous hit, and shook his head.
“Why in the world would I know where the Joker
is at? I didn’t even know he was missing!” he shouted, his one eye widened in exasperation.
Harley huffed, shaking her head.
“I saw you kill that thing. Like that one woman did when she visited. I think something has my puddin’, and I want him found and safe. Now, talk!”
The butt of the gun collided with Xander’s temple, and for several moments, all he could see was stars. Apparently, Harley realized that she had hit him a little harder than needed as she backed off a bit, bending to look at him right in the eye.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “I peeked under that eye patch while you were out. I know
you’ve handled worse than this.”
Okay, so sympathy not present. Xander shook his head, clearing the faint ringing from his ears.
“Look. All the cards on the table. I don’t know where Joker’s at. I didn’t know he was missing. I was sent here for an entirely different reason, and I don’t even know why you think vampires are involved with that clown’s disappearance.”
He shuddered a bit at the mention of “clowns” but in a moment of pride, shook off the fear. Harley pouted, leaning up to place her hands on her hips.
“I know that vampires are involved because I saw Mistah J with one! A brunette chickie in a red dress who talked a lot about stars.”
Drusilla was back in Gotham? Xander filed that way for when he next saw Buffy, and glared up at Harley, spitting a little bit more of the iron-tasting blood out.
him with this vampire?”
“And you’re asking me
where he is and if he’s okay?”
“Argh!” he cried out, so angry that he was actually bouncing the chair he was bound to around the concrete factory floor. “Why do I always attract the crazy ones? What, have I got a messed up pheromone or something? If you saw
him with this vampire somewhere, why don’t you just start
“Huh,” Harley said, pressing a gloved finger to her ebony lips in thought. “You know, you’ve got a point. Didn’t think about trying to track the vampire. Thanks, sweetie!”
She leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“For this, I’ll let you live. See ya!”
With a couple of colorful cartwheels, she disappeared out of sight and, presumably, out of the factory. Xander, still tightly bound to the very uncomfortable wooden chair, sighed.
“Great. Just great. Well, I better find a way out of here,” he murmured to himself.
After all, neither Batman nor Willow knew he was missing. Summoning his strength, he began to hop, loudly, around the factory floor.
“And there goes my night. So much for sightseeing.”
Next time Buffy needed something done in Gotham, he would be sure not to volunteer again.
Disclaimer: I don't own the images used above. The brush used can be found at ladyorion.deviantart.com.