Chapter 1: Never Be Exactly
Chapter Text
"We just can't have her messing up in front of the wrong person," Giles explained kindly, as the Scooby Gang briskly walked towards the cemetery gate. "Or the wrong thing. We need the world - and the underworld - to believe Buffy is alive and well."
And I will therefore fix it," Willow assured him, frustration creeping into her voice. "I got her head back on, didn't I? And I got her off the knock-knock jokes ..."
"Ooh! Who's there?" Buffy-bot asked with breathless excitement, her almost perpetual smile extending into a cheesy grin.
None of the group looked at her. Giles shot Willow a questioning look, whilst Spike merely closed his eyes, resigned.
"You know, if we want her to be exactly…" Xander began, before Spike swiftly cut him off.
"She'll never be exactly."
"I know," Xander agreed, not even stopping to note how rare it was that he and Spike would share the same mind on anything, let alone Buffy.
"The only really real Buffy - is really... Buffy." Tara added sadly.
"And she's gone" Giles finished, widening his strides and vanishing ahead of the others.
Buffy stopped.
"If we want her to be exactly - she'll never be exactly, I know the only really real Buffy is really Buffy
and she's gone who?"
No-one answered her.
Sunnydale was burning.
The chaos had turned cars into shrivelled husks, the upholstery still spilling choking fumes into the air as the windscreens cracked violently under the intense heat. Trash flooded the streets and sidewalks besides mournful, wrecked storefronts, the horror harmonised in the distance by the echoes of screams. Gangs of Hellions demons, identified by their goblin-like ears and repulsive orange skin seemed to patrol every street-corner, ravaging every house, shop or human they could find, revelling in the ecstasy of destruction, pain and terror they left streaming in their wake.
"That doesn't belong to you." Buffy said sternly, stepping towards the nearest invader, her hands placed firmly atop her hips.
The bald, tattooed demon turned away from the shop-window it had just smashed, fixing her with a loathing grimace of sharp, narrow fangs. Without uttering a word, the creature raised its face to the sky and let out a visceral screech which tore into the air all around her, summoning its fellow creatures from out of doors and alleyways, from rooftops and broken windows.
As their imposing leader began to approach her, a growl low in his throat, several of the other leather-clad demons encircled her menacingly, bats and chains clenched firmly in their grasp.
"Slayer…" the leader drawled, holding each syllable as if savouring a foul flavour. "I've been hearing interesting things about you…"
"I am interesting," Buffy agreed. She took in her surroundings, glancing at each of the demons around her. "Are these your friends?"
"They're my boys yeah…" he answered cautiously, fixing her with his dark crimson eyes.
Buffy was glad about that. Spike, Dawn, Willow – even Giles had been avoiding looking at her in the eyes recently. She couldn't understand why. If even her enemies wouldn't look at her, something must be really wrong, and she'd have to go to Willow right away.
"Good," Buffy decided. "Tell them to get on their loud bicycles and go back to wherever they came from."
"Or what? You'll electrocute us?" The leader asked mockingly, before promptly striking Buffy hard across the face, driving her backwards into the grasping arms of his underlings.
"Hold her!" He ordered them, once again stepping within a breath's distance of where Buffy stood restrained.
Suddenly, vicious, jagged three-inch blades erupted from his fingers, and as if in response his smile became a sadistic grin. He slashed Buffy hard across the chest, revealing the silver metal and blinking green and red components below her skin.
"You're nothing but a toy," He baited her. "A pretty toy…"
He leaned in closer, so far that her olfactory systems could detect mixture of alcohol and decay in his breath.
"Wanna play?" He asked sadistically, reaching out with his clawed hand as if to stroke her face.
The time was right to slay. With lightning speed, Buffy struck the demon between the legs with her knee, causing him to double over sharply with a grunt. Before he had a moment to recover, she flipped over backwards, kicking him in the face as she spun through the air. The other creatures which had held her firm lost their grip on her as she moved, and Buffy knocked each of them to the side effortlessly.
"I would," Buffy answered politely, "but you injured me. I have to report to Willow."
So, the fight began in earnest. The Hellions tried to attack her all at once, but Buffy either dodged the wild swings as they came in, or moved with the enemies' momentum, driving them to the ground. Several well aimed punches and kicks cleared the dozen demons from her path, and she sped off down the road. She had to see Willow.
"Get her!" The battered demon leader shouted wildly at his minions, thrashing one arm against the ground he was lying on. "RIDE!"
Willow was nearby. Buffy could always find her; ever since the wicca had overridden her location program. Therefore, it wasn't long before Buffy sprinted off the Sunnydale road, diving through bushes and snapping several branches before bursting out into the cemetery.
It wasn't just Willow. Tara, Xander and Anya were there too. They knelt in a circle, candles cradled between their hands. Buffy had no clue why they were here. Willow hadn't told her anything about it, which she always did - whilst Buffy was activated at least. Within a few milliseconds she reasoned that it must not be anything important.
"Willow!" She called out helpfully. "I need service!"
Something wasn't right with Willow. She was engulfed in a spinning torrent of sanguine flame, which span upwards in a great column ripping into the sky. Buffy was almost sure this wasn't normal. It wasn't in her program files. She barely had a second to process the information however, before she detected the roar of the hellish motorcycles, crashing through the undergrowth behind her. Buffy sprang away from the group, trying to keep the demons from trampling her friends.
She had barely travelled a few metres before the demons started to circle her on their bikes, driving dirt into the air wherever their tires ravaged the earth beneath them. Suddenly, Buffy heard a shattering sound, and Willow collapsed to the ground with a scream, falling out of the scarlet pillar which vanished as soon as she hit the ground, unconscious. The bikes continued to separate Buffy from Willow and the others, driving her further and further away. Between the menacing forms of the mounted demons, she saw Xander scoop Willow up in his arms, disappearing into the undergrowth.
Her programming was starting to freeze up. She had to return to Willow – yet Willow was not conscious, and therefore could not repair her. If Willow could not repair her, she was not permitted to slay – unless they were stopping her trying to reach Willow.
One of the demons struck Buffy's face whilst mounted.
"I'm dangerously close… to system failure! I have to disengage from…"
Another one of them struck her in the shoulder. Buffy's mind was beginning to overload
"From… combat until Willow can service me!"
The leader finally emerged into the cemetery, his vehicle roaring cruelly in harmony with the others.
"I'll service you toy-girl!"
With that, the Hellion cast a rattling chain from one hand, wrapping itself around Buffy's leg and tearing her roughly from her feet. As the demons began to leap from their bikes and pummel every inch of her body, all Buffy could think about was where her friends had gone.
As her navigation and detection systems began to confuse themselves, she saw a pointy-eared shadow pass over her.
"Say hello to your new home boys…" Razor growled, spreading his arms and basking in the victory. Behind him, an old pick-up truck was entirely aflame, increasing his presence ten-fold in front of all his men as their bikes formed a circle around him. The burning, rusted drums which were haphazardly placed around the main pyre almost gave a ritualistic impression.
The home of the slayer herself was his now. They would hunt every human in Sunnydale, take their pleasure from them – chase them down for sport, and eventually ride out – the legacy of their deeds lying out behind them for a mile in every direction.
The Hellions gang raised their torches in triumph, crying out with joyous exaltation. It was time for a speech. He didn't feel the need – or the want at that – to give them very often, but he was in that special stage of drinking and slaughtering where his thoughts were all clear. And it never hurt to remind them who had provided all this.
"This here is a momentous occasion. The beginning of a new era. Now, no question the open backroads and highways have been good to us, but we got ourselves a juicy little burgh just ripe for picking... And I ain't in no hurry to leave. Are you?"
Another resounding cheer went up from the crowd, with several of the Hellions roaring their engines in salute.
"So I figured what better way to kick off our semi-settling down than with a little christening..."
He signalled to Mag and the other riders with a nod, who began to snigger, attaching the chains to the rear of their bikes.
"A symbolic act commemorating the new order around here... And ridding ourselves of any not so
pleasant reminders of the old..."
Razor drew out a thirty-eight-calibre revolver, brushing off the dust and loading a bullet into the chamber as the crowd looked on hungrily.
"All in one, quick, really really violent, fell swoop." He smacked the chamber closed as he finished, as if to emphasise the message. "Gentlemen…. Start your engines!"
Razor paused for a moment as he looked over at his prey. As his eyes bore into her pathetic female frame, he felt the ache in his jaw and his groin resurface. He would enjoy this part most of all. Each one of the toy's limbs was tied to a different motorcycle, each poised to ride off in a different direction.
A grimace spreading across his pock-marked face, Razor pulled the trigger.
It didn't exactly hurt. Buffy couldn't feel pain after all. Yet she found the sensation of being ripped apart on all sides rather disorientating, nonetheless. Right up until the last moment she had expected to see Willow, Tara, Giles or Spike come to her aid, as they had every time during her allotted slaying periods. She kept her eyes on the entrances to the parking lot, but no-one arrived to help. It left her more confused than anything else.
After the bikers lost interest in laughing at her broken body, there was quiet for a while. Buffy couldn't move, only listen to the crackling of the flames from the nearby rusty drums or the desiccated truck. For the first time, Buffy had to just wait. She couldn't follow her programming, or report to Willow – and her shut down command appeared to be malfunctioning from all the damage she had taken.
She could only wait, and think – as best as her programming allowed. She thought about her sister. She thought about Spike. And even more than either, she thought about Buffy. Not herself that is, but the other Buffy. The Buffy that had come before.
Eventually, the sound of another motorbike approaching broke through her thoughts. Buffy lifted her head slightly, trying to make out who it was who had returned for her. Then, she smiled.
"Dawn," the robot acknowledged, her eyes widening slightly. "You're my sister Dawn…"
Dawn looked at her with an unfathomable expression. At first, her lips curled upwards in a smile, but then fell again in less than a moment. Buffy's empathetic programming did not prepare her for such an immediate contradiction.
"Tsk. Look what those filthy buggers 've done to you…" Spike said simply, lifting one of Buffy's dismembered legs and turning it over in his arms, preferring to cast his eyes over the mangled mess of pipes and wires which poured out of the upper thigh than look down at her. After a few moments the vampire cast the limb aside callously.
"I am damaged. I need to return to Willow!" Buffy informed him helpfully, creasing her brow in concentration. "But I can't walk. I need you to take me Spike!" Her shoulder spasmed and sparked as she spoke, and her neck began to twitch if she tried to move more than her face.
A strange look crossed Spike's sharp features. "Willow's slap and paste job's not gonna do the trick this time." He looked over at Dawn. "Robot's done."
"No," Dawn insisted, running a finger through Buffy's golden hair. "No…"
"It's just a machine, Dawn." Spike soothed her, placing a hand on the young girl's shoulder.
"I know!" She snapped at him, before her voice dropped to a whisper. "I know…"
Dawn continued to caress the machine's hair, trying to cling to the last remnant of Buffy that remained to her.
The kitchen was filled with morning smells. Buffy was vigorously lathering peanut butter and jelly onto an ever-growing castle of prepared sandwiches, whilst Tara worked at the stove behind her. Buffy enjoyed watching the pile grow higher and higher, knowing that each one she made would make her friends happy.
"Morning!" Willow greeted them, raising her eyes to Buffy's. Buffy grinned, returning the greeting with her usual enthusiasm.
"I was thinking we could go over your programming again," Willow began, before Tara politely interceded.
"Again? You've done all you can, sweetie. She's either ready to face this thing or she's not."
Dawn swept into the room, seating herself on the opposite side of the table to Buffy and starting to pick at the fruit and orange juice laid out for her.
"Who's going to eat all that?" Dawn remarked, furrowing her brow as she finally noticed the slightly leaning edible fortress which had begun to loom over her menacingly.
"Oh," Tara apologised "Oops. She wanted to help. I got her started but then I forgot to un-start..."
Buffy nodded in understanding, though Tara quickly set about removing Buffy's building materials nonetheless.
It wasn't long before Xander joined them, swaggering through the rear door; toolbox in hand. He seemed only too happy to receive the eight sandwiches Buffy placed in his grasp with an eager smile.
"So… what brings you here your 'macho-ness'?" Willow asked dryly, as Xander greedily inhaled the first of the sandwiches.
"I got that soldering wire you wanted. For Buffy-bot's tune-up."
Buffy liked that. Her friends were always thinking of her. They often spoke of how much they missed her. Even when she was there!
The phone began to ring.
"I'll get it!" Buffy volunteered, rushing towards the phone-hook gleefully.
"No!" the three other women shouted, Willow placing herself between Buffy and the ringing.
The smile fell from Buffy's face.
"It could be my dad," Dawn explained, choosing to address Willow rather than Buffy. "He said he'd call today."
"I'll just say hello!" Buffy assured them, her smile tentatively creeping back alongside a series of tiny nods. "He's my biological ancestor!"
Dawn and Willow looked at each other, but said nothing. Buffy didn't understand.
It was Anya. Buffy didn't know what the 'thing for tonight' they were discussing was, but it didn't matter. She trusted Willow. She was a witch after all, and also gay (1999-Present)!
After Willow had finished speaking, she turned to face Buffy once more.
"Maybe you should just let the machine - the... other machine - get the phone from now on, okay?"
Buffy's eyebrows shot up in concern. "Is my phone manner not correct?"
"It's perfect," Tara assured her softly, seemingly sensing her sprouting disquiet. "It's just… we can't take the chance that Mr. Summers might talk to you and know something's wrong."
Something's wrong. The thought did not make Buffy happy. What was wrong? Was she wrong?
"If he thought that the real Buffy was gone, he could take Dawn away." Xander added, his serious tone only somewhat upset by the surviving segments of sandwich still in his mouth.
The other Buffy. The 'real' Buffy.
"And I want to stay here," Dawn told her. "With you and Willow and Tara. Understand?"
Buffy nodded, grinning earnestly once more. "I do! I want you to stay as well. You're my sister!"
Buffy crossed the room around the table, and enveloped Dawn in a vigorous hug. Dawn seemed to hesitate for a moment before she returned it, placing her hands on Buffy's arm, gently caressing it with her thumb.
Buffy was happy again.
Spike only watched Dawn try to lift the bot for a handful of a seconds before he gave in. He made a show of rolling his eyes before putting her torso over one shoulder, and scooping up what remained of the rest of her shattered form with his free hand and passing them to Dawn.
"Do me a favour will you, and keep your mouth shut." He ordered the robot callously. Last thing I need right now is you flapping your plastic gums…"
"Anything for you Spike," the bot assured him in a familiar tone which immediately set his teeth on edge.
He hated the machine at moments like this. He hated everything she was and represented, right down to that stupid grin spreading over her face like a disease whenever she looked at him. She reminded Spike of his lowest moments, exposing his twisted obsession before the people he hated. Worse still, she reminded him of everything he would never see again; Buffy. The real Buffy, not this metal and plastic whore-bot who couldn't navigate her way from one thought to the next without a roadmap.
"Spike?" She asked him a few moments later, the word strangely slurred as he balanced her in front of him on the motorbike.
He exhaled forcefully. "I thought I told you to shut –"
"I'm tired..."
The world fell away from her, and Buffy fell silent.
"Just ... How are we supposed to fight these guys?" Anya asked in exasperation, looking desperately around the main room of the Magic Box at the other Scoobies. When no-one interrupted her, her frantic plea continued.
"I mean, we can handle a vampire or two, sure, but we've got a cavalcade of demons here. This is... It takes... I mean, we need..."
Xander knew exactly what she was getting at. "Buffy."
"Buffy?" Willow repeated, her face contorting as tears of frustration began to moisten her green eyes. "Buffy is not coming back. We failed."
A silence, thick with dread and the truth of their situation swiftly filled the room. They had failed. It was only just beginning to sink in that she was really gone. Every day for months they had planned to bring her back, and even through their recent doubts Willow had held them true to their course. But it was all for nothing. They had failed, and Sunnydale was paying the price.
"So... We're it, gang." Willow stated matter-of-factly as she stood, swiftly trying to pull herself together for the others' sake. "Xander, grab some weapons. We're going to find Dawn and Spike."
"Evening all," Spike announced with wry cheeriness, bringing the motorbike to a stiff halt before leaping nonchalantly from the saddle, the Buffy-bot under his arm. "Nice night for walking around in alleys, huh?"
"Spike," Tara replied, a combination of surprise and relief. "How did you know we were here?"
Spike narrowed his eyes, his mouth opening slightly in disbelief. "Oh, I'm sorry, where else in this bloody town do you people go? And its not like any of you have had a social life since…"
Spike paused, lowering his eyes to the floor for a moment. "You're predictable, get over it. Now shove off out the way."
With that, Spike barrelled passed the group, storming back towards the back entrance to the Magic box. Dawn followed close behind him, shooting a sympathetic smile at the slightly cowed Scoobies.
"Yknow, I'm pretty sure we voted to put her in charge," Xander blurted out, pointing his arm towards Willow. "cause I sure as hell don't remember giving emergency powers to 'General Spike' over there…"
Willow simply sighed and folded her arms, before leading the remaining Scoobies inside. She was too tired to fight, and she'd lost enough for one day.
Tara prised open the blinds ever so slightly, peeking out onto the street beyond the shop window. She could see at least four demons, chucking books out of the opposite building's shattered store window, only to be swallowed by the ravenous fires waiting on the sidewalk.
"I d-don't know how safe we'll be here. These guys don't seem like they're going to go away."
Spike turned to Willow. "Can't you just, yknow, create a bubble around the store? Like you did back in the Glory days with those Byzantine wankers" He stretched out his fingers into an expanding bubble shape to emphasise his point. "Force-field thing"
"I – I don't know. I'm kinda running low on magical energy right now. The incantation back there was… pretty intense."
Dawn shot Willow a quizzical look, but the conversation quickly moved on.
"Well why can't she do it?" Anya pointed out bluntly, gesturing to Tara. Tara's face dropped to the floor in response, twiddling her fingers awkwardly as the room's attention shifted entirely onto her.
"I-I mean I could, probably," she stuttered. "I mean I'm not as powerful as Willow but… but well I don't know the spell off-hand"
Xander raised a hand. "Can't Willow just… tell you the words?"
Willow gave him a slightly withering look. "There's a lot more to magic than just knowing the words Xander…"
"Well… we are in a magic shop, right?" Dawn piped in. "Couldn't you find the spell around here somewhere?"
"Good to see at least the little bit hasn't dropped her brain somewhere along the way tonight.." Spike remarked coldly, grabbing a book from the round table and shoving it roughly into Xander's arms. "Get started."
"I guess interrogating books isn't really your specialty, huh Spike?" Xander shot back as he slumped into the nearest chair, and began to flip it open.
Anya quickly rushed behind the checkout to find the inventory, whilst Dawn sat beside Xander, picking up another book from the table. Willow tried to focus on her breathing, trying to centre herself. She moved her gaze steadily over the shop, taking in their current situation, until something demanded her attention. It was the Buffybot, or rather, what was left of it. Spike had left the remaining head and Torso leaning against one of the shelves, equally inanimate as the Buddha head and a row of small, brightly coloured figurines just above her. At its feet lay a collection of shattered, severed limbs.
"Jeez, what happened to her?" Willow asked, wiping a dishevelled lock of red hair from her eyes.
"Ripped her to bloody pieces is what happened. Brutal like." Spike answered from across the room, before moving to shove one of the nearest shelves in front of the main entrance.
Moving as though every step cost great amounts of energy, Willow crouched down beside the damaged robot, examining each of the dismembered limbs in turn.
"Can you do anything for her?" Dawn asked, raising her head from the enormous leather-bound tome.
"I'm sorry Dawny…" Willow began softly. "But this isn't just a case of correcting a glitch in her programming, or replacing a damaged component. I just don't think there's enough left to work with."
Dawn shuddered, letting out a small sigh. "Yeah. Spike said as much."
"Her major systems still seem pretty intact." Willow continued, trying to comfort the younger girl somewhat. "It looks like the damage just drained her batteries, yknow, power leaking out through broken wires."
Anya looked up from the inventory book for a moment, the look on her face clearly articulating that she and an idea had started an argument. If any of the others had been idle enough to notice they surely would have braced themselves. She flipped through the ring-binder frenetically, before placing a finger about half-way down the page.
Anya waved Willow over, before leaning over the cash-dispenser conspiratorially.
"You remember April?" Anya asked, making a series of small, energetic gestures with both hands and head as she spoke. "The robot that creepy little dweeb Warren built. The one that threw Spike threw a window?"
Willow nodded, trying to hide a small smile at the memory.
"Well, I just remembered. After Buffy shut her down – she brought her here. Guess she didn't want to explain to her mom why she'd brought a sex-bot home. Probably. She's down in the basement somewhere."
"Okay…" Willow began sceptically. "But what does that have to do with… Oh! You think if we took parts from April – we might be able to rebuild the bot."
"Sorry to have to point it out," Xander said, raising a hand. "But look out there – the word's out. I think its pretty clear they know that Buffy… isn't around anymore. What's the point?"
"Well, apart from Spike – she's our only real fighter." Willow suggested, turning to face Xander.
Xander closed his eyes for a moment and smiled. "Thanks Wil. What's left of my masculinity is swiftly fleeing the premises…"
"Plus, she would make a very good distraction whilst we run away!" Anya added chipperly.
"Not to mention," Tara added patiently, taking her place beside Willow. "If we… yknow, win? We're still going to need someone to cover for Dawn."
Dawn nodded vigorously, casting a glance over to the bot.
"Alright then," Willow said, raising her wearied voice slightly to attract everyone's attention. "Tara, Anya and Dawn – keep looking through the spell books. Xander, come help me find April. Spike?" She asked, turning to the bleach-blonde vampire, patrolling the store window restlessly.
"Yeah?" He asked disinterestedly, not even turning around.
"Just… keep moving heavy stuff."
Chapter 2: Not Your Fault
Chapter Text
The air in the basement was thick with the smell of dust and age.
The yellow light of the bulb flickered sleepily into life, illuminating the shelves of jars, scrolls and artefacts which surrounded Willow and Xander on all sides. Not a single surface was free of organised clutter, doubtlessly arranged in a system only Giles could fully comprehend.
"Maybe you should have brought Anya down here instead of me..." Xander suggested, clearly intimidated by the sheer volume of magical junk all around him.
"Nawh, how hard can it be to hide a five-foot robot?" Willow asked sweetly, though her sheepish expression suggested she already knew.
A perhaps not-so-surprisingly long while, as it turned out. Boxes were shifted, cupboards searched, and during the ordeals several delicate items were caught from falling to their doom by Xander's suddenly astute reflexes, presumably motivated by the thought of Anya's wrath putting the fear of D'Hoffryn into him. Willow moved somewhat slower. She tried to hide it from Xander, but the resurrection ritual had drained far more than merely the scope of her ability to cast spells. Though making the effort to take charge only a minute or so before had got some adrenaline pumping through her, it had already faded. Now staying awake seemed like all the exertion she could handle.
Eventually, Xander lifted a thick woollen blanket from the back of a large closet, letting out a breath of satisfaction as he saw the robot leaning against the back panel.
"Bingo," Xander called out, scratching the back of his head in relief. He quickly shifted the assorted merchandise between him and the robot, clearing the path for him to carry her upstairs. He reached out his hands to get a grip on her, but after placing them on April's hips for the briefest of moments recoiled them awkwardly, and proceeded to try and find the proper, respectful way to lift her.
Willow watched on in amusement, leaning backwards onto a wooden crate. "Xander… she's not real. You don't need to worry about chivalry"
"I know… it just… seems a little strange is all." He took a deep breath before trying again. "Okay… come to…"
Xander let out a startled cry as the robot promptly fell on him.
"Simulacrum Portare!" Willow recited quickly, and with small wisp of green light emanating from her hands, April began to levitate a few feet above the ground.
"I'm okay – I'm okay!" Xander stated, seemingly as much to himself as to Willow, rolling out from under the floating body. "She's a lot heavier than she looks…"
"Smooth," Willow shot back, before she stumbled trying to rise from her leaning position. Her body felt heavy, her limbs dead. With a hefty crash, April collapsed onto the ground.
"Wil?!" Xander asked, his voice thick with sudden concern.
"I'm… I'm fine," Willow whispered distantly as Xander helped her slowly to her feet. "Let's just get back to the others."
"That's it!" Tara cried out, grasping the book Dawn had swivelled towards her on the table.
"Just in the nick of time, looks like" Spike announced from the window, now barricaded with whatever furniture was to hand. "Our demon friends out there seem to be getting a bit antsy"
"Antsy?" Dawn questioned.
As if in answer to her question, a bright flash of light detonated against the outside of the window, sending the screams of fractured shards of glass flying into the Magic Box alongside the initial, deafening roar.
Spike had hurled himself to the floor, whilst the remaining Scoobies ducked behind the round table, Dawn unable to restrain herself from letting out a shrill scream in the meantime.
As Spike sprang to his feet to intercept the first of the Hellions Demons who were now trying to topple the piled furniture that kept them at bay, Anya urgently crawled across the shop floor towards the training room.
Tara quickly realised she was out of time. Crossing her legs under the table, she blocked out the chaos of the world around her. There were only her breaths, and the pathways of magical energies that flowed through and beyond her.
"Enemies, fly and fall, circling arms, raise a wall!" She chanted in a building crescendo, first stretching her arms wide apart before slamming them back together. The barrier grew around Tara like the surface of a lake, expanding outwards in every direction with the sound of an unyielding gale. At first it seemed as if it might collapse under its own weight, great hollows appearing erratically in its surface, hindering the bubble's growth. Yet Tara clenched her eyes shut, once again trying to drown out her fears, allowing herself to be a conduit without doubt or anxiety.
The barrier responded, bursting out once more and flooding every corner of the room. The two Hellions Demons who had managed to clamber over Spike's barricade, who now stood in hand-to-hand combat with the bleached-haired vampire were suddenly flung back out from where they had come with startled cries, landing amongst the book-fires they had fed to bursting only minutes before. Within moments however, the creatures had managed to smother the flames that had begun to burn through their thick leather jackets with hungry delight, and began to charge off down the street towards their waiting bikes.
Spike's vicious smile suddenly turned to a curse on his lips.
"Bugger" he breathed, vaulting over the bookshelf without a thought before the barrier intercepted him, knocking him flat on his back amongst the wreckage of his barricade.
"What's wrong?" Dawn asked him, climbing out from under the table. "I mean – the spell worked, didn't it? We're safe now."
"That it did love," Spike told her, brushing off the dirt and dust from his long leather coat. "Bit too bloody well as it turns out. What do you think those half-wits are going to do now we've let 'em escape eh?"
"Well… wouldn't they leave? Once they realise they can't get in here."
Spike let out a snicker. "Hellions demons? Nah. You've gotta know how they think – they're territorial demons – and this, this is Slayer territory." He explained, starting to pace back and forth. "Likely as not they'll set up a nice little camp here. Hang around for a while. It's what I'd do. Hell, its what I did do, back when this all started." He paused. "Good times…"
"Spike?" Tara interrupted, shooting him a slightly disapproving glare.
"Hmm?"
"The point?"
"Ah, right – yeah. Well likely as not they'll be around a while – it's a status thing. Once their boss finds out there's a place with a powerful enough witch to take out a few of his lads, well…"
Spike spread his hands.
"How long?" Dawn asked, worry and fear bleeding into her eyes. "How long will they be here?"
"However long it takes for the message to sink in. Or at least until it gets boring. How many people live in Sunnydale?"
"Thirty-eight thousand." Willow told him, emerging from the basement door, holding Xander's arm for support. Her skin looked pale and pallid, and the circles under her eyes had darkened further. "Give or take a few hundred."
"Long enough," Spike surmised bluntly, clearly noting Willow's state but choosing not to remark on it. "There's enough sport to keep 'em busy for a while. Hellions Demons aren't the most creative blighters, but still."
"Well… the barrier worked then," Xander stated optimistically. "How long can we keep it up this time?"
Tara locked eyes with Willow. "Not as long as last time. Four hours, maybe five. I-it kind of depends on what they try to do to it"
Willow nodded sluggishly. "No time to lose. I'd better get to work on the-"
"No way Wil," Xander cut in. "You're taking a time out."
"Hey, I'm in charge remember!" Willow reminded him. "And… we don't have time for a nap right now."
"We're going to make time," Tara told her, with an uncharacteristic note of steel in her voice which seemed to catch everyone's attention. She crossed the room to take Willow's arm from Xander.
"I-I can take her from here," she informed him softly, and Xander's grip released in response. "I'll set her down on one of Buffy's training mats."
Xander and Dawn watched them head into the back with some concern. Appearing out of the gloom, Anya squeezed past the two witches obliviously, an axe in one hand whilst laboriously dragging a large wooden chest behind her with the other.
"Where are they?" Anya demanded, raising her axe. "I got the weapons. You know, to kill with."
Xander just smiled and gave her a thumbs up. "Good job honey. You can uhhh, you can put down the sharp things now."
He noticed Anya's jaw had dropped as she first saw the destruction which had wrecked her store-front.
"Any time now Ann."
Xander gave up. "So," he began, turning to Spike and clapping his hands together. "You gonna go carry that robot up here or?"
Buffy awoke.
Her vision was clouded by static and distortion, and her ears rang with a deafening whine. After a few moments, she thought she could make out a familiar voice, and colour began to paint the clearing images.
"Willow," Buffy stated simply, seeing her friend seemingly tinkering with something around her temple.
"Hi there Buffy," she said with a tired smile. "How do you feel?"
"Willow," she repeated. "Where did I go?"
"Go? You didn't go anywhere silly. Your battery just got a little low. Well, actually all the way low. What's the last thing you remember?"
"Spike," Buffy replied dreamily, causing Willow to raise an eyebrow.
"Before Spike…" she clarified.
"The demons tied me up," Buffy explained with a slight pout. "You couldn't fix me, so I got all confused. Then I fell over."
Willow sighed, turning to face someone behind her. "Okay, this time I should really fix that part of her programming…"
"I-is that a good idea?" Tara's voice asked. "I mean, we've already added so much to what she was meant for, yknow? Couldn't this just make it… you know, worse?"
Willow shook her head. "I wouldn't be adding any more programs, just maybe let her choose between them a little more",
"Can she do that?"
Willow shrugged. "There's a lot about Buffybot's central processor I still don't really understand Tara. But she can ask questions and stuff, make some kinds of choices. I'm sure with a little work we can tweak it a little more."
"Willow?" Buffy asked, creasing her brow in concentration.
"mmm?"
"I still can't move."
"Oh, well don't worry Buffy, we haven't finished fixing you just yet. I just wanted to check your power systems, and make sure everything's okay up here." Willow said with a grin, tapping Buffy's forehead.
Buffy raised her eyes, attempting to see what Willow was pointing at.
"Your cognitive functions," Willow clarified, and Buffy nodded in understanding.
"I'll just need to switch you off again for a while. Don't worry, before long you'll be as good as…" Willow hesitated, seemingly unable to finish the sentence. "You'll be fine Buffy."
Buffy heard a switch flick, and then nothing.
"Willow!" Buffy cried, as her friend walked through the door, knocking over a table whilst trying to rush towards her. Spike half-dived to catch it before the china vase atop it fell swiftly to its doom, just as Buffy promptly headbutted the living room wall instead.
"What happened?" Willow asked, grabbing Buffy's arm and guiding her back into the room. "Where's Dawn?"
"Dawn's fine." Spike reassured her, noticeably moving to avoid Buffy's touch as Willow guided her unsteady path towards the couch. "She's upstairs in bed. But it seems the bot here got into a scrape while she was on patrol."
Buffy nodded in agreement. "I think my feet are broken."
"Looks more like a short in the navigational system." Willow corrected her, sitting Buffy down before turning to Spike. "Can you get me the flashlight? It's in the kitchen."
"She wanted to go out again and look for you," Spike began, wandering towards the kitchen. "But I figured there are enough things in Sunnydale that go bump in the night..."
"Good thinking," Willow called out approvingly, as she began to inspect the damage on Buffy's cranial components.
"But my homing device locates you when I'm injured. I'm programmed to go to you!" Buffy reminded her, concerned at the contradiction.
"I know." Willow acknowledged, lifting Buffy's shirt and opening the panel on her lower torso and plugging in her USB. "Still, just this once it was a good idea to stay put. Spike was right."
That made sense. It was Spike after all. Buffy turned to look at him again as he handed the flashlight to Willow. She couldn't help but smile.
"I'm sorry I questioned you Spike." Buffy apologised sheepishly. "You know I admire your brain almost as much as your washboard abs..."
Spike's eyes slowly dropped to the floor. Raw pain seeped unmistakeably into his expression, and his hands tightened into fists. Buffy felt something. Something… wrong. She knew that much.
"I told you to make her stop doing that," Spike demanded of Willow, refusing to look at Buffy any further.
"I did. I mean, I thought I got all that stuff out of the program-"
"Well, you've got her opened up - fix it." Spike told her curtly.
Willow was right. Buffy was largely aware of the changes in her programming, but she still remembered, remembered how she began. With Spike.
"Sure. I mean I've got a lot of work here… but I'll see what I can do." Willow assured him.
Buffy's eyes followed him as he left. She wanted to know, to understand exactly what had changed between them. He had liked her once. He had wanted her, and more than anything she had wanted to please him. Her purpose had changed, but her past had not.
"Can you point the flashlight here?" Willow asked him, before finally noticing Spike vanishing out of the door. "Spike?"
"Did I say something wrong?" Buffy asked.
"No, its not your fault." Willow replied, only looking Buffy in the eye for a moment before continuing to modify her code.
"I think Spike stopped liking me," Buffy admitted, traces of distress leaking into her voice. Willow stopped. She looked at Buffy for longer this time, surprise written on her face.
"No, that's not true…" Willow tried to assure her, blinking rapidly as she spoke. "He thinks you're swell."
Buffy decided to probe a little further. "Then how come he never looks at me anymore? Even when he's talking to me?" There was a plea in her eyes.
"He just gets cranky." Willow told her dismissively. "Like vampires do."
Buffy trusted Willow. Yet her response did little to allay her fears. He did not think she was swell. He wouldn't look at her, couldn't bear to touch her. Buffy was about to tell Willow so, but she didn't get the chance before her friend got there first.
"Now just relax," Willow instructed her, as Buffy began to feel the new streams of code rewriting her system. "I'm going to make you good as new."
"I promise I am."
Buffy smiled at that, though she wished Willow would have looked her in the eyes when she said it.
"They know where we are now," Xander pointed out, appealing to the other scoobies who gathered around the table. "So its pretty obvious we can't stay here."
"Blatantly obvious some might say," Spike added, lighting a cigarette.
Dawn frowned at him "Won't you set off the fire alarm?"
"Not anymore I won't," he shot back coyly. "I say sod waiting. Grab the robots, grab Wil, sod off somewhere else before Hells' Angels lay siege to the place."
Xander looked at him quizzically. "Weren't you the one who suggested the whole forcefield thing in the first place?"
"That was then, this is now. Long term planning's never really been my thing, mate. Living from moment to moment, that's more my style. Forcefield stopped those demons from having their way with you, so be grateful."
"There's another option." Anya highlighted. "Though after what you've done to my store less than two days since I got it… I don't think any of you deserve to get out of here alive."
"Anya…" Xander implored her. "Please."
She pouted her lower lip slightly. "Fine. There's a trap door in the basement. I didn't want to say it in front of… him." She motioned to Spike.
"Me?" Spike asked, clearly amused. "Why me?"
"You steal things." Anya clarified bluntly. "Now the merchandise is at risk. And its all your fault Xander."
Xander's expression was a fitting combination of bewilderment and resignation.
The training room had swiftly transformed into a workshop. Willow was knelt over the Buffybot, safety goggles covering her eyes and with a soldering iron in hand. An assortment of tools lay around her, wrenches and screwdrivers facing in every direction. The intact hip and shoulder joints had been taken from April, and were now being evaluated by Willow before she began to steadily attach them to the intact sections of the Buffybot's torn legs.
"Willow, I really think you should still be resting." Tara suggested, concern laced into her voice. "You went through a lot earlier, I saw what that ritual did to you…"
"Tara, I'm fine." Willow replied coldly, before letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry… I just… I just need to do something. If I stop, I'll just start thinking about…" She shuddered slightly. "Please, just let me do this."
Tara took a deep breath, before nodding. "Alright. But take it easy. And the first chance we get, you're going to eat something," Tara threatened her with a pointy finger.
"Is that my toolbox?" Xander asked as the door closed behind him, in a tone which clearly indicated her knew the answer.
"I didn't think you'd mind, given the circumstances," Willow replied, a lukewarm smile on her lips.
"Well, I don't as it happens. But I do happen to remember leaving it at home…" He exchanged a knowing look with Tara.
"I take it that forty-five-minute powernap was a good one, huh?"
"It did its job," Willow replied absently.
"So, how's it all looking there Wil?"
"Well, it's not pretty, that's for sure. But let me tell you, it's not nearly as irritating as trying to get her head back on. It's a lot less complicated."
"That's something then," Xander agreed, rubbing his hands together awkwardly.
"Yeah. That's something." She melancholically echoed. "At least there's one version of Buffy I might be able to fix…"
"That wasn't your fault Willow," Tara assured her, running a hand over her partner's back comfortingly.
"There's really nothing we can do about that urn? There's… no way at all?" Xander asked her, and Tara just shook her head.
"She's gone." Tara almost whispered, as if by saying the words she could break the spell of shock which still held them all.
Xander only allowed the silence that followed to hover for a few moments before feeling the need to fill it.
"So," he began, trying to rouse himself from the grief which festered within. "The rest of us have been trying to come up with what to do next."
"And whatcha come up with?" Willow asked, clearly trying to give the same impression.
"Well… the wise and wonderful Spike suggested we just drop the shield and make a break for it before we hear the sounds of Motorhead blaring from outside the walls…"
Willow turned away from her repair work, raising her goggles onto her forehead.
"Xander, you guys have been in there for nearly an hour. Please tell me that's not all y'came up with?"
"Thankfully not," Xander assured her, cocking his head with a jokey smile. "Anya says there's a sewer access down below. Last time I checked motorcycles don't drive down manholes."
"Better," Tara congratulated him. "But can we give it a bit longer? She still needs to gather her strength, and it'll be better for everyone if Buffybot can walk for herself."
Xander nodded. "I'll let the others know."
Chapter 3: The Mission
Chapter Text
Although deep beneath the chaos above, the tunnel was far from silent. The distant sound of distorted echoes resonated all around them, as if the crash of a cymbal a mile away was bouncing off a thousand walls before it reached them. Occasionally, a rat would scramble from between concealed nooks in the brick walls, and the regular dripping of water droplets from the world above gave a heartbeat to what lay beneath.
"Where are we going? And where is Giles? This is his shop!" Buffy asked as the scoobies lowered her the final few feet into the sewer.
"Mr Giles isn't here right now Buffy," Tara soothed her, steadying the clumsy walk of the still armless robot alongside Dawn. "He had to go back to England."
"Oh," Buffy blurted out thoughtfully. "But he didn't say goodbye."
"She raises a good point though," Anya interrupted sharply. "Where are we going? Surely anywhere we pop up in this town they'll find us!"
"There's always the outflow pipe…" Xander added comically. "They say early fall is ideal for the last dip of the year…"
"I don't think I know how to swim." Buffy chipped in obliviously, kicking aside a hollow wooden box in her path with an inelegant crash.
"I think we'll pass on that…" Tara declined politely.
"How about my place?" Spike suggested. "Hellions are looking for sport – pretty unlikely they'll look for it in a cemetery. Place is dead."
The scoobies groaned at the pun. After a few moments, Buffy grinned. "I get it! You're so funny Spike…"
Spike didn't acknowledge her.
"He makes a good point," Tara acknowledged to Willow, who gave a weary nod.
"Okay then. We'll make for Spike's crypt. From there we can figure out our next move…"
They continued mostly in silence through the labyrinthine warrens of endless dank corridors, twisting and turning so often that the scoobies was almost certain they were relying solely on Spike's intimate knowledge of Sunnydale's underworld to guide them. Even though the last few months had established a certain amount of trust between the soulless vampire and his human associates, the thought did not sit too well with many of them.
Dawn was almost certain she kept seeing shadows dancing in the corners of her flashlight's beam, but every time she pointed it down one of the many side-passages along their path, there would be nothing. Just a slowly building sense of unease. She made sure not to say anything. The last thing she wanted was for Willow, Tara, Xander and the others to think of her as a child, frightened of the dark. Nor did she want to worry them. It was like Buffy had told her that awful night, just before dawn:
You have to take care of them now - you have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me.
She glanced over at Buffy - no, the Buffybot - trying to draw strength from the perfect replica of her sister's face. However, at the moment it seemed to be rather occupied, a perplexed focus centred around her lips and eyes.
"Are… are you okay?" Dawn asked her hesitantly.
Buffybot cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. Willow, did you finish fixing my ears?"
"There was nothing wrong with your ears Buffy," Willow told her. "What's up?"
"I don't think we're alone. Do people live down here?"
The gang stopped. Spike turned around ahead of them, looking back with guarded eyes. He lifted his face and sniffed once.
"Shite. Just what we need."
"What is it?" Anya asked tensely.
"Vampires. Move it, come on!"
The group surged forwards, running after Spike.
"I thought vampires…. Stayed above ground at night?" Tara wheezed, struggling to keep up and prevent Buffybot from falling concurrently.
"Normally, they do," Spike explained. "Not much fun to be had in a bloody sewer. My guess is, the boys in denim 'n' leather up there aren't too fond of us vamps… Should have bloody known. Elitist garbage. The less pure demon you got in you, the more 'tainted' you are."
They heard laughter as they ran. Rather than getting closer or further away however, the cackling seemed at one moment only inches away, and then only a distant echo. The result filled the air with uncertain dread.
Just as they thought the sounds had died away into nothing, the group sprinted around a sharp corner, only to find a thick-built, blonde vampire standing straight in their path, dressed in a torn grey suit. As the scoobies all ground to a halt, another two female dark-haired undead emerged from the sides of the tunnel, hissing between bared fangs. Their demonic visages were fully exposed, their almost tiger-like, angular yellow eyes filled with hunger and malevolent anticipation.
Spike released his own demon in response with a shake of his head. "And here I thought I might get through the whole night without a proper scrap…" he drawled hungrily, his fingers twitching slightly.
"I don't suppose you three know the way to the mall?" Xander asked them mockingly, lowering his red toolbox to the ground with his left arm. "I think we made a wrong turn at the last… manhole."
Without so much as a breath, one of the female vampires leapt at Xander viciously. He barely managed to raise Giles' two-handed axe to hold her back before she was upon him, snarling monstrously. Spike was already trading several chaotic, wild blows with the larger male, seemingly thriving on the ecstatic release of violence, laughing with every strike and licking his fangs.
At first, the third vampire stalked around the edges of the claustrophobic conflict, searching for an opening to end the fight. But once she began to smell the fear in the others, she slowly started towards Dawn.
Tara quickly flipped through her mental list of spells that would fit the situation, but as time ran out began to focus on a disorientation spell. However, before she could release it, a boisterous voice called out.
"Vampires, BEWARE!"
With that, suddenly Buffybot was there, driving her foot into the vampire's stomach and knocking the wind - or lack thereof - from her.
"Dawn," She said in her usual warm tone, not taking her eyes off the fallen vampire. "Stay behind me. I'll protect you!"
The words seemed entirely sincere, however probably would have carried a greater sense of gravitas if they hadn't come from a robot without any arms who was currently struggling to maintain her balance from the force of her own kick. At the same time, the other female vampire had driven Xander to the ground, slowly extending her fangs, entirely focused on the flushing skin of his waiting neck. In a moment Anya was there, drawing a stake from inside her blue jacket and ramming it home into the vampire's back. The exalted grin became a scream, before the scream rapidly became the whisper of falling dust.
Spike was still duelling amicably with the larger vampire, however whether that was the natural result, or rather that of Spike lengthening out a fight he was clearly revelling in, was difficult to say.
As the vampire which Buffybot had knocked to the ground began to rise, Tara made a florid gesture with her arm, forcing it to remain prostrate. Seeing his chance, the risen Xander crossed the tunnel. Without a moment's delay, he raised Giles' axe before swinging downwards as if he were chopping lumber, decapitating the undead creature in one stroke.
Xander eyed the axe appreciatively. "I see why Giles likes this thing…" he whispered to himself, as he swiftly moved to check around the corner from which they'd come. He got there just in time to see a few shadowy figures slinking back into the distant side-passages, clearly aware from the sounds of the battle that their hopes for an easy meal had just been dashed.
Finally satisfied, Spike shattered the last vampire's kneecap with a well-aimed kick, before trapping him in a headlock and breaking his neck with a sickening crack. In spite of herself, Dawn couldn't help but retch slightly.
Tara folded her arms, unimpressed. "You couldn't have done that in a way that wasn't so…. Graphic?" She asked, rubbing the top of Dawn's back reassuringly.
Spike placed a hand to his forehead, which had returned now to its more human-like state. He lowered his arm, glancing at the blood left on his fingers with a cheeky half-smile. "He wasn't exactly making it easy for me love."
"How much further?" Willow asked, the weariness still plain in her eyes.
"Not too far now." He assured her civilly. "Hopefully the wannabe 'Big Bads' will get the message and stay out the way for a while…"
Climbing the final few rungs of the uneven stone hand-holds, Dawn pulled herself into the dimly lit chamber. She had been to Spike's place before, quite a few times actually, but she couldn't recall ever seeing this part of it.
Whereas the upper level was just an ordinary crypt, albeit with a cushy armchair, standing lamp and television set giving the place a paradoxically homey feel, this place was different. It looked as if the entire space had been roughly hewn from rock, though the thick, wooden roots which ran down the walls made Dawn wonder if this had perhaps once been a natural cavern. Another standing lamp stood a few metres away, and further still Spike stood lighting a few candles resting in rock crevices, casting flickering, warm light on both his face and the surrounding walls. He had wired several other bulbs in little clusters on the ceiling, though how Spike managed to get electricity down here Dawn had no idea.
Whilst Tara, Willow and Xander helped Buffybot ascend into the room, Dawn continued to explore. As she approached Spike, she caught sight of a large, luxurious even, double bed, fully adorned with pillows and soft furnishings. Dawn couldn't help but smile. She had always imagined that Spike slept on the raised central stone slab in the crypt, cold and foreboding as any corpse. Picturing him now in the bed robbed a great deal of his alluringly tough image.
The look Spike gave her when he realised precisely what she was looking at suggested that was probably exactly why he never brought her down here. Drama queen.
She shot him a wicked little smile as she sat down on the end of the bed, crossing her arms knowingly.
"I know this place," Buffy said as she walked, grinning and nodding at both Willow and Tara located either side of her. "Spike and I used to spend time here." Willow lowered her eyes for half a second before they darted uncomfortably to Spike, but Tara just smiled at her with a few patient nods. At the mention of his name, Spike turned to look down at Buffy. Dawn couldn't see the expression on his face, but she could guess what it was when the smile dropped from Buffy's face entirely.
"I'm sorry." she said simply, in a tone that caused Dawn's heart to wrench slightly in her chest as Spike stormed away, climbing up a wooden ladder to the crypt above.
Seeing her always brought the pain of Buffy's death to the forefront of their minds, and poor Buffybot could never hope to understand why they acted the way they did. Perhaps that was a blessing in itself, in some ways.
Dawn rose from the bed, following Willow and Tara as they guided Buffybot to the corner where Xander and Anya had begun to lay out the tools and metal parts they would need for the repairs.
"Can I help?" She asked Willow cautiously.
Willow smiled at her. "Sure thing Dawny. An extra pair of hands would be swell."
Willow looked up as she pulled herself into the crypt proper. Facing diagonally away from her, Spike sat in his armchair, swigging heftily from a bottle of Bourbon as he stared dully at the flashing images on the hazy television screen.
"It's nearly sunrise," Willow stated, getting the vampire's attention. "Dawn's sleeping, but before we all get a bit of rest, I thought we might have some, yknow, planning time?"
"What did you have in mind, red?" Spike asked her, without turning around.
Willow blinked. "Oh, I don't know…" she joked. "I thought maybe getting rid of the horde of nasty demons taking over Sunnydale might be a good start!"
Spike swivelled his head around to look at her. "You sure about that?"
Willow looked puzzled. "Do we have a choice?"
"Yeah," Spike shot back at her. "You got a choice. Leave."
"The cemetery?"
"The town Wil. Whole bloody state come to that. Why are you even still here?"
Willow was taken aback at that. "We're… fighting evil. Vampires, the end of the world; that kind of thing… you know that,"
"You chose to stay here… because of Buffy. Don't try and lie to me – I'm not blind. You've got the best brain in a fifty-mile radius, you could go to any college you wanted – you and the missus down there both. Take Dawn with you, even carpenter boy could get a job pretty much anywhere else."
"I don't know if you've noticed Spike, but we're not done here. The Hellmouth is still pretty active…"
"And it always will be! Nearly every week some new 'big bad' rolls into town and tries it on – and sorry for saying so… wait, no I'm not sorry…. Your days are numbered. If it isn't the Hellions Demons, it'll be something else. Take a hint – go."
Willow froze for a moment as she took in what Spike had said. Awful as it was… he had a point.
"Why are you telling me this?" She asked him finally.
He sighed. "I couldn't save Buffy. I nearly did, but I didn't. Instead, I've been looking after Dawn. Trying to keep her safe – like Buffy'd want. But you know what the best way to keep the little bit safe is? Getting her off the sodding Hellmouth. None of you are the slayer, even the poncey Watcher spewing on about destiny and all that crap has got on a plane and left – and frankly I find it laughable he didn't even suggest you lot do the same!"
There was silence for a moment.
"And what would you do?" Willow asked, which seemed to catch Spike slightly off-guard. He chuckled to himself softly.
"Well, I've got pretty good digs right here! Steady supply of demons to fight – butchers who don't ask a lot of questions when you ask for a few pints of pig's blood. Occasional apocalypse helps to keep things interesting too."
Willow cast her mind into the past, back to the time when she first made the decision to stay in Sunnydale. Staying to support Buffy was certainly a part of that choice – a large part at that. But it wasn't everything. Staying in Sunnydale to fight evil – it gave her purpose, a sense of meaning she had come to realise was more than she ever could have imagined for herself. Tara had felt it too, as had Xander. They didn't need to ever say it explicitly. Their joint commitment had made them a family.
She suppressed the rush of fear at leaving her magical identity behind. That wasn't what mattered, it was more than that. It was the mission.
"I'm sorry Spike," she said, an apologetic smile on her lips. "It's not that simple. What we do here… it matters. We make a difference to people here. It's the right thing to do. We're staying."
Spike just shook his head with a snort. "I'll say this… You've got guts Wil. Mad as the moon, but still."
He rose from the chair, patting Willow twice on the shoulder in quick succession.
"Come on then, we 'band of buggered' have got to plan our latest suicide mission."
"So, these Hellions guys…" Xander started, gesturing animatedly with his hands. "Do they have any weaknesses – Crosses, Troll-hammers, the screams of a nineteen-year-old Buffster…"
"Pendant breaking, holy water, bunnies…" Anya added helpfully.
"I'm not sure that's the r-right way to think about it," Tara suggested timidly. "From what I saw – they weren't all the same type of demon. But they're all part of the same gang though, right?"
Spike ruffled a hand through his hair thoughtfully. "Might be on to something there," he complimented her. "Had my dealings with a fair few gangs in my time."
"Anything useful?" Willow asked.
"Well…" Spike considered. "Gangs 've got a structure to 'em. Tribal like. Toughest bugger of the lot tends to get to the top. Gives all the orders. Get rid of him…." Spike spread his hands.
"They might all get on their bikes and skedaddle on out of town…" Xander finished, illustrating with an emphatic point.
"That, or they'll spend so long killing each other to decide who's in charge they'll forget all about you worthless sods. Yeah, we get a few deck chairs, put 'em on the roof of the town hall and watch them tear each other to pieces. Place a few bets, blood 'n booze – and we've saved the day! Hooray for the good guys, eh?"
The other scoobies just stared at him coldly. Even Dawn raised an eyebrow.
"Alright fine. Just trying to get myself to give enough of a piss to risk my life for you sods... again."
"Question is," Xander raised, swiftly moving the conversation past the briefest of awkward silences. "How do we figure out which of the boys in black is pulling the strings?"
Dawn cleared her throat. "Well, there's one other person who might have a better idea."
When it was clear no-one had quite caught on to what she was saying, Dawn cast her eyes meaningfully at the deactivated Buffybot lying on the cave floor.
"Oh boy…" Tara said, with some trepidation.
Willow had seemingly finished her repairs whilst Dawn slept. Both of the bot's arms had been re-attached firmly to her shoulders, though in place of the missing skin across her shoulder joints, Willow had wrapped layers of white bandages to disguise and protect the bare metal underneath, and she had done her best to do the same to her hip joints and the shredded jeans below them.
"Want to do the honours, Dawny?" Willow invited, twiddling her hands nervously.
Dawn nodded, crossing to her robotic sister and opening a small hidden panel on her torso.
"Is it in here?" Dawn asked, looking over the panel of lights and components.
"Not quite," Willow corrected her, kneeling next to her and closing the panel gently. Dawn watched as the older girl reached around the back of Buffy's head, though she couldn't quite make out what Willow was doing behind the mess of golden hair. "That should do it."
Dawn almost immediately felt Buffy twitch, and within moments her eyes snapped open.
"Dawn?" Buffy asked, looking around with a slight frown.
"Yeah Buffy, I'm here." Her sister replied. "How… how do you feel?"
Buffy lifted both of her arms simultaneously, wiggling each of her fingers methodically.
"My arms… They're back." She observed with amazement, as she used them to lift herself into a sitting up position.
"Yeah Buffy," Willow told her with a smile. "You're all back together again – best as I could manage anyway…"
"That's good," Buffy observed with her usual optimism, breaking into a familiar smile. "Did we beat the bad guys?"
"Not just yet," Tara broached softly.
"That is to say… Not as of yet" Xander announced a moment later, causing the entire group to stare at him oddly. "Yeah… what she said."
"Then I should go slay them." Buffy decided, starting to rise to her feet before Tara put a hand on her shoulder.
"You will Buffy, but we just want to make a plan first…"
"Ooh, can I help?" Buffy asked with verve, her eyes widening.
"Yes. You can." Anya chipped in, folding her arms. "We want to know what their leader looked like. The demon one. Did you see him?"
There was a dramatic little silence for a moment as Buffy cocked her head in thought.
"Yes. I did see him." She remembered, nodding emphatically.
Sighs of relief sounded all over the room.
"Well okay then Buff," Willow began with a swing of her arm. "What did he look like?"
Buffy squinted slightly, running through her memory files, conjuring up an accurate picture of the demon and running it through her communication program.
"He was tall!" Buffy told them. "I did not enjoy smelling him."
Spike groaned, dragging a hand down the side of his face, whilst Xander just bit his bottom lip and lowered his gaze. Tara and Dawn kept smiling though, nodding at Buffy encouragingly.
"Do you remember anything… more specific?" Tara asked, brushing a lock of stray hair from falling into her face.
Buffy tried again, running through the unpleasant memories of her capture.
"His ears were pointy. His eyes were dark red, and he had a black mark on his forehead. Oh, and he has very sharp claws. I think the others called him 'Razor'. He wore a jacket like the others, and he had a white man on his shirt."
"There we go!" Dawn said with triumph, turning to the others.
"Not the worst start," Xander acknowledged, rubbing his eye sleepily. "What do you say the rest of us get some shut-eye before we sort out the rest huh? It's been a long night."
"No argument there…" Willow agreed. She looked around the sparsely furnished cave with concern, before casting an obvious glance at Spike's enormous bed.
"Spike?"
"hmm?" He replied with disinterest, before he picked up on Willow's signals.
"Could we just…"
"No… no way. I'd be getting the smell of you lot out of here for days. Weeks!"
Willow gave Spike a pleading, almost puppy-like expression, pouting her lip slightly. He stood sternly, refusing to back down for several seconds before shaking his head and letting out a resigned sigh.
"Fine. Whatever. Only because we need you on form when we get out there. Don't want you getting your Latin twisted and accidentally turning us all inside out."
Willow smirked at him victoriously, and behind her Tara stifled a laugh.
Buffy elected to stand watch over her friends whilst they slept. For a while she paced around the entrance to the tunnel to the sewer below, keeping watch for whatever might rise from beneath.
"You okay?" Dawn's voice asked from behind her, causing Buffy to halt her circular patrol.
"Oh, hi Dawn. Why are you not sleeping?"
"I got some sleep earlier. When you did."
"I'm glad. Sleep is important! You should get at least seven hours of sleep a day."
Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Anyway, what's it like for you – when you sleep I mean."
Buffy cocked her head to one side, her face perplexed. "I don't understand."
"Like, do you dream? Or do you see lots of lines of code, yknow like the Matrix or something…"
"No," Buffy answered her.
"Then what?" Dawn pressed, seemingly more curious still.
Buffy thought for a moment, struggling to articulate the concept. "I go away for a while. I'm in one place, then I wake up somewhere else. I don't really like it much."
Dawn frowned. "Have you told Willow about it?"
"No. I'm sure Willow knows what's best. My programming says so." Buffy assured her. Willow knew best after all.
"You don't always have to do what she says you know. It's okay to have your own thoughts on stuff."
Buffy nodded slowly, her face once again thoughtful.
"Spike and I are watching TV upstairs," Dawn continued. "I just wondered… if you wanted to join us?"
Buffy's smile wavered.
"I should keep watch here. In case something attacks the others."
"That probably won't happen." Dawn dismissed. "Spike says vampires tend to leave each other's lairs alone. It's a courtesy thing. Apparently. So, will you come?"
"I'd like that," Buffy admitted. "But I don't think Spike would." She hesitated slightly. "He doesn't like me anymore."
Buffy thought about what Dawn had told her a few moments previously. "Willow says he does – but I think she just doesn't want me to worry."
Dawn's eyes widened in surprise. "That really bothers you, doesn't it?"
"Is that wrong? I don't think I'm supposed to."
"No, no it's okay," Dawn assured her, putting a hand on Buffy's sleeve. "I just didn't know you c-, I mean I didn't know you thought about that kind of stuff. It's okay, we can watch something when we get home. When all this is over."
Buffy smiled. "I look forward to it."
Dawn started towards the ladder, but as she placed her foot on the first rung she looked back at Buffy.
"Let me know okay, if you need anything."
"I am fully functional," Buffy assured her. "I have enough power for eighteen hours."
"That's not exactly what I meant." Dawn replied cryptically, before bidding farewell with a small wave.
Chapter 4: Challenge
Chapter Text
The moon rose over a horizon of blood.
Razor brought his bike roughly to a stand-still, kicking the support into place as if it were a disobedient dog. He lifted his gaze to the metal sign hanging below the venue doorway, ensuring it was the right place.
Bronze.
Satisfied, Razor dismounted, signalling for the two of his boys trailing behind him to follow. The club was saturated with the taste of victory. From behind the bar, three gang members were distributing the spoils, two of them freely pouring beer into waiting glasses from stocky metal barrels, the other throwing bottles of spirits into the crowd surrounding them.
Beyond, the stage was filled with cheering demons, looking down at the space below them with absorbed enthusiasm. Half-way between Razor and the stage, an elevated metal walkway similarly teemed with spectators.
His curiosity aroused, the gang leader began to shove his way towards the front – at first through force, although as soon as the Hellions released who it was who was wading through them they made way for him like royalty, sparks of fear in each of their eyes. When he finally found himself at the front of the crowd, he discovered that a circle of floor-space had been cleared directly in front of the stage, empty except for two figures circling each other at the very centre.
Mag acknowledged Razor with a respectful nod as soon as he was aware of his presence. His left wrist had a thick iron manacle wrapped around it, which in turn was connected to a hefty chain. At the other end of the chain, a bruised human male was equally bound.
Razor's maw broke into a smile.
He had seen the game before of course – many times over. The chain was just long enough not to impair the movement of each fighter blow for blow, although if either party attempted to pull away from the other, they would inexorably drag the other with them. This method of duelling served a number of useful purposes beyond adding an extra dimension to the fight itself, however. From the moment the opponent was bound, they realised that any attempt at escape would be entirely pointless. But more than that, the chain binding both parties gave a sense of equality to the duel – giving the condemned a sliver of desperate hope which ensured they fought fiercely to the end.
As for the duel in front of Razor, well, that hope was waning. Each of the human's blows were becoming slower and clumsier, deflected by Mag with a carefree ease which seemed to drive his opponent into a greater and greater frenzy, driven by the terror of a growing realisation. As the human charged forward again, Mag took out his legs from under him, letting him writhe in pain for a moment, then placed both hands on the chain, swinging his opponent above him in a great arc before slamming him mercilessly into the ground.
The crowd cheered, satiated as two fellow Hellions moved in to untie the wrist of the limp Human's body, dragging him towards the back entrance. Whether he was already dead or still clung to life by his fingers didn't matter. He had served his purpose, and there were plenty more where he had come from.
The Scoobies snapped to attention as they heard the door to the crypt swing open and closed, and as Spike began to casually descend the ladder. The look on his face as he turned to face the circle of expectation was not particularly amused.
"Either you lot back off, or I kick you out and you're on your own, alright?"
"Sorry," Willow apologised, as the group took a step or two backwards. "So, what did you find out?"
"Well, my usual sources as scattered, as you might guess. Lucky for you I happen to know a thing or two about staying unseen."
Xander look as though he was about to make a snide comment, but rather quickly decided to keep it to himself.
"Bulk of 'em seem to 've shacked up at that club you all used to love so much…"
"The Bronze?" Xander asked in surprise, before the corners of his mouth began to rise in spite of himself.
"Makes sense huh?" Willow added snidely. "I mean, where else is there in Sunnydale?"
"Did you happen to see the leader?" Tara asked.
"I didn't actually go in you know…." Spike answered, a long-suffering expression on his face. "Like I would just walk into a club filled to bursting with vamp hating demons – I'm not a complete moron. That being said, I did happen to see them dragging a body out into the alley. Looks like they've already started on the locals - if you take my meaning."
There was silence for a moment.
"So how do we get in there?" Anya asked bluntly. "I mean it's not like the leader is just going to come out to us if we all ask nicely?!"
"Why not?" Buffybot asked innocently, causing a number of sighs and awkward glances to emerge from the other scoobies.
"Buffy…" Tara began, only to be interrupted as Buffy continued.
"He really doesn't like me."
"But back to the point…" Anya began, stopping herself as she saw Xander raise a hand.
"Wait a minute," Dawn suggested, turning to Buffy. "What are you saying Buffy?"
"I think she's saying if we get her outside the Bronze, this guy Razor might come out to her," Xander deduced. "that right Buff?"
"That's a terrible plan," Anya stated, slapping Xander on the arm. "Xander! Why are you considering the terrible plan?"
"Hang on a sec," Spike considered, "Bot might have accidentally stumbled on something. Big man keeps his lackeys in line by showing how tough he is, right? Calling him out on it might cause the git to do something rash…"
"What, you think Buffybot could goad him into a one-on-one?" Willow asked. "That's way too dangerous! I only just finished putting her back together and now you want her to just go and knock on the door and ask for a fair fight?"
"Don't get your knickers in a twist red, we won't do it like that."
"What are you suggesting then?" Willow shot back sternly.
"I-is there any way we could bring him to us?" Tara asked softly. "Have the fight on our own terms I mean?"
Spike lowered his head, a half-smile on his lips. "Be nice if we could play it that way, not sure h-"
"Stragglers." Xander blurted out suddenly, and all eyes fell on him. "These Hellions, they're not like an army right? They're a gang. There's gotta be a few stragglers here and there right?"
"Right," Spike followed sceptically.
"So, we find one; have Buffy rough him up a bit – then send him packing to his boss," Xander explained, a cunning twinkle in his eye. "Buffy makes sure to drop the fact she's the slayer into the fight somewhere, and bait the gang leader to come get her" Xander turned to face Tara with a smile. "Somewhere we decide – thank you Tara."
She returned it, whilst the other Scoobies looked at each other thoughtfully for a few moments.
"It's a slightly less terrible plan." Anya admitted. "But have you thought about what happens if he turns up mad as hell with a horde of gun-toting demons just waiting to shoot holes in our soft waiting flesh?" She finished, stopping for a moment to catch her breath.
"My Anya, always the optimist..." Xander highlighted dryly.
"So we just pick somewhere we can make a quick getaway if it doesn't turn out the right way," Willow compromised. "We just have to find the right place is all…"
"That being said," Spike interjected, "This is likely the best chance you'll get to take these guys out. They won't fall for this stunt twice. It's either this, you lot bugger off out of Sunnydale, or get comfy down there in the sewers for a couple years and start picking 'em off one by one."
"Guerrilla warfare…" Xander whispered almost in awe, nodding slightly as he did so.
Willow narrowed her eyes, scrutinising her oldest friend for a moment. "Xander… You're thinking about 'Apocalypse Now' aren't you?"
"Absolutely not," Xander denied with a nervous lilt, "Not at all."
"I am not staying behind," Dawn insisted, crossing her arms petulantly.
Tara looked at the younger girl sympathetically, placing a hand on her upper arm. "Dawn…"
Dawn pulled away from her touch. "It's not like I'm going to be any less safe with you than anywhere else in this town,"
"It's pretty unlikely they'll find you here Dawnster…" Xander pointed out earnestly.
"You don't know that!" Dawn stopped herself, trying to collect her thoughts. "Look, I get it – you guys want to keep me safe. Maybe I'm even a liability or something. But I'm going to have to learn sometime, right? How old were you guys when you started fighting demons?"
"And you will Dawny," Willow assured her, "Just… just maybe with something a little less…"
"Bonkers," Spike clarified, giving a dismissive wave as he wandered away from the conversation.
"You promise?" Dawn asked, raising her eyebrows.
Willow shared a glance with Tara for a second, before turning back to give Dawn a small smile.
"Promise."
Finally. Dawn had made it no secret she despised the others around her perceiving her as nothing more than a little kid, someone who always needed saving and protecting. Losing her mother, and then her sister, the latter whom had given her life precisely because of Dawn had left her utterly devastated – but also reaffirmed her certainty that she was done standing behind others for protection all the time, being utterly helpless when evil came to her door. Next time she didn't want it to be Tara, Spike Xander or Willow to be the one to die because Dawn couldn't save herself.
Almost out of habit, Dawn's eyes were drawn to the Buffy-bot, standing somewhat apart from the other conversing Scoobies. Having got what is was she wanted from this conversation, Dawn quickly excused herself with a smile and walked over to her.
"How you doing Buffy?" Dawn asked.
"I am the same." Buffy stated plainly. "But thank you for asking!"
Dawn thought back to their last conversation, and the genuine worry she saw in Buffy. "Aren't you a little nervous about all this? The others are saying it's all pretty risky…"
Buffy shook her head. "I'm sure it will be fine." She said vacantly. "Willow is very smart, and I trust all of my friends."
"Yeah but… this 'Razor' guy – I mean he really hurt you last time."
"Don't worry about me Dawn." Buffybot reassured her innocently. "I am the Slayer. This is what I do. It's what I'm for."
Dawn forced a brave smile at the lie. "You're right. Hey, do you think when all this is over, you might be able to teach me a thing or two about, yknow, fighting and stuff?"
A look of confusion passed across Buffy's face. "I thought we were going to watch TV?"
Dawn's eye twitched. "After that."
Buffy's expression deepened into a slightly conflicted frown.
"I'd like to help Dawn. But I would not want to hurt you. You are my sister! It's my job to keep you safe."
"I'm sure you wouldn't" Dawn assured her, and Buffy's answering grin seemed to wash away the robot's doubts.
"Alright then. But can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"How do I teach you?" Buffy asked, wide-eyed and lips parted.
Dawn sighed. More and more as she talked to Buffybot she was coming around to understanding what it was like to have a baby sister rather than an older one.
As Dawn's focus returned to what was in front of her, she noticed Buffy's gaze suddenly seemed distant, her face almost thoughtful.
"Giles was my teacher. But Tara said he's gone."
"Oh," Dawn replied cautiously. "You only just heard about that, huh?"
"I think it's my fault."
"Buffy…" Dawn started, shaking her head.
She was suddenly interrupted as Spike approached, stopping just in front of the bot.
"Here," he said brusquely, shoving a small pile of clothes into Buffy's hands. "If you're gonna go around playing Slayer, you should at least try to look the part."
Buffy's face lit up like a sunrise. Much like a child having received her long-awaited birthday presents, Buffy began to breathlessly examine the soft red leather jacket, turquoise loose-turtleneck pullover and black jeans. It was a heart-warming sight, though Dawn hoped Buffy wouldn't take too much hope from a single thoughtful act.
Dawn held the jacket for her while Buffy dressed. As she turned it over absently in her hands, she noted a small white design on one of the lapels. She couldn't help but smile at the little unicorn as she handed it back to Buffy, who promptly wrapped the coat around herself with aplomb.
"Are these clothes more correct?" Buffy asked, clearly hoping for Dawn's approval.
Dawn nodded reassuringly. "You look nice. And fierce, of course. Those demons won't stand a chance." She hoped that was true.
Buffy quickly looked over to Willow, who also gave her a friendly thumbs up.
"Alright gang," Willow called out, signalling the scoobies to attention. "We'd better get started."
Razor puffed softly on his cigar, allowing the smoke to fill his mouth with the usual subtle rush, before slowly exhaling the fumes through his nostrils. He leaned against the metal railing of the walkway high above the floor of the Bronze, looking down on his new kingdom below. Razor knew that this was only the beginning. After the Hellions gang finally rode out of the desiccated husk of Sunnydale, there would be rivals determined to bring him down. Razor's prestige would be greater than it had ever been amongst demons, and power invites challenge. Still, a small part of him would feel reluctant to leave this place. Razor had heard of Hellmouths of course, places where the boundaries between the earth and the Hell dimensions were particularly thin – weak spots where demonic entities could bleed through on occasion. But never before had he understood how it felt to stand on one. It was like a distant humming in his ears, a slight reverberation that made his hairs stand on end – the faint rush of energy. It was as if Razor felt a pang of recognition, an echo sent from a place long-lost and forgotten. He shook the thought from his mind. Hell held no interest for him, and he had far more immediate, far more real concerns.
His attention was suddenly demanded by the sound of the metal entrance door slamming against the wall, as a figure stumbled into the Bronze. The lone Hellion cradled what looked like a fractured arm below a dislocated shoulder, before promptly half-collapsing onto the floor. The raucous ambience of the club dampened somewhat in response, as many of the Hellions looked on with various levels of curiosity.
Razor looked on with mild interest. He knew the wounded Hellion by no more than sight, so he was likely no more than a rookie who had accelerated too aggressively whilst turning a corner. If that was the case, then the agony he was quite clearly in would serve amply as his punishment.
"Boss!" the greenhorn cried out, before breaking into a fit of laboured coughs. Razor didn't move, merely lifting the cigar to his lips once more and taking another hit. He watched as Mag ceased his revelry and approached the rookie with approval. Mag always took his duty as second in command to discipline the lower ranks seriously – it was one of the many things Razor liked best about him. That, and that Mag's position in the riding order didn't seem to trouble him, he just wanted to enjoy the ride. It allowed Razor to sleep better at night knowing his closest lieutenant seemingly didn't seek out any ambition beyond his next meal – or victim.
Mag let out a guttural growl, before smacking the rookie's already bruised face with the back of his hand. That caught Razor's attention. The continued squealing remained inaudible however from this distance. Razor watched as Mag turned slowly around, raising his face towards his leader high above. There was an unprecedented uncertainty in his crimson eyes.
"This maggot says the Slayer did this to him!"
Impossible.
Razor didn't even bother to take the stairs. He leapt over the railing immediately; following the split-second of initial surprise. He landed with an indifferent effort on the floor below, storming over to the lying runt and lifting him clean off the ground by the front of his dirt-stained jacket.
"What did you say?!" Razor almost screamed into the rookie's face.
The Hellion's squeals became a whimper. "The… the Slayer… she…"
Razor pressed the scalding butt of his cigar into his underling's cheek, eliciting several more agonised screams from his throat.
"And what did she look like, this 'Slayer'?"
"Kinda short, skinny… blonde hair, green eyes… but she's a lot stronger than she looks.." the rookie wheezed.
That confirmed it. Razor could see deception in any of his men's eyes, and there was only fear of him in this one.
"And did she say anything else?"
"Sh-she wanted me to give you a message boss,"
"Deliver it then!" Razor roared, lifting the rookie even higher.
"She said… she said…" the idiot stuttered, unable to even form a short phrase.
"SAY IT!"
"She said if you want to cause trouble in her town, come face her yourself - at the old High School. If you're not… uhh, well…"
Razor released his jagged finger-blades, pressing them painfully into his victim's neck. "Yes?" he growled.
"A… Coward." He struggled to mouth.
The room went completely silent as the rookie's neck snapped, and Razor threw his limp body across the room, flying over the bar with a smash of breaking glass.
"MAG!" Razor called out with a blood-curdling screech. "Bring me a chain…."
Chapter Text
Sunnydale High was a ruin. Two years past, the explosion which had prevented the ascension of Mayor Wilkins had left every window shattered, every wall stained with blackened residue, the indelible shadow of flames. The second floor had half-collapsed into the first, and the roof was little more than a crumpled mess jutting in every which direction. A loose skeleton of scaffolding hung around the structure, suggesting that an attempt to either demolish or renovate the existing structure had begun, only to be evacuated after the Hellions' invasion had flooded the streets with terror and pain.
Razor barely even bothered to decelerate before his bike was tearing up the squares of grass which marked the old school grounds, sending clumps of earth flying across the pale stone walkway which lead to the ruined entrance ahead. Five bikes pulled up behind him, the previously deafening sound of their engines spluttering nervously into silence.
The infection of whispers which appeared to have begun to spread through the gang since the wounded rookie had stumbled into the Bronze had set Razor's teeth on edge. The deeper meaning of this 'Slayer's message had not been lost on him. It was said the Hellmouth itself was directly beneath the school – and now she had challenged him, standing atop the infernal door she had claimed as her own to protect.
"They say the slayer actually stopped an ascension here," a voice whispered behind him, causing Razor's lips to pull back over his teeth in annoyance.
"You're shitting me." Another replied, his voice tense. "No crackpot's been mad enough to try and ascend since…"
"No, no - it's true. Blew up the whole place, killing a hundred blood rats in the process."
Razor silenced their speculations with an icy glare emphasised with a grimace. He wouldn't let this so-called 'Slayer' or anyone else weaken the fist of his authority over his boys. The chain grasped firmly in his hand, he mounted the small set of pale stone steps and strode boldly towards the main entrance.
It was time to end this.
"Okay… that should do it!" Willow exclaimed, closing the lid of her Macbook with a sense of finality. She reached over to remove a cable and seal Buffy's access port, before quickly ferreting her computer away.
Buffy felt the odd sensation of her code being overwritten, changing her in ways too subtle for her to detect all at once.
"Alright then Buffy, everything still functioning okay?"
Buffy nodded. "I think so."
"Good. I need you to listen to me quick. If you get into a fight with the head demon – you don't need to run to me if you get hurt, alright? I've made some slight adjustments to your central processor – so I think you'll be able to respond to whatever happens out there."
Buffy's expression became more serious as she processed the information. "I understand," She told her friend, trying her best to give an impression of sincerity.
"I'm not going to lie to you…" Tara said softly as she knelt down beside her. "If we're gonna win this, we need you to keep fighting. We need you to really try to win."
"We're counting on ya Buff," Xander added.
Buffy was glad. She had worried that allowing herself to be torn apart by the Hellions Demons, by leading them to Willow in the cemetery had made her a failure in her friends' eyes – it explained why they had left her there after all. Now she had a chance to make it right, to make them happy with her again. To make Spike like her again.
She looked at him for a moment, leaning impatiently against the doorframe leading into the corridor, drumming his fingers endlessly against the charred surface. She smiled broadly at him, but Spike made no sign that he was aware of it.
It was then she first heard the distant rush of engines coming closer.
"I think they're here." Buffy informed the others.
"We'll be right here Buffy – don't worry," Willow assured her sincerely. "I'll be keeping an eye on things too."
Buffy glanced at each of them in turn before she turned to walk out of the former classroom.
"Well, if the bot messes it up – at least it'll give me something to do…" Spike grumbled quietly. "As it is, may as well have stayed home and watched TV with little sis, for all the use I am here…"
She stood in a wide stance at the centre of the corridor, waiting for her adversaries to approach. After a few moments, Buffy made out several figures storming into the building, half-illuminated by moonlight that seeped into the building through cracks and shattered windows.
"I've been waiting for you," she informed them pointedly, just as the face of Razor became visible from the surrounding gloom. From his hand there dangled an approximately metre-long chain, with a manacle at either end.
"So…" Razor growled acidly. "Are you the real Slayer this time – or are you just another life-sized doll?"
A toy. That's what he had called her.
"I am the Slayer," Buffy said stalwartly. "You got my message?"
"Oh, I got it alright…" The towering demon drawled. "Strange way of protecting your town 'Slayer', letting my boys take it from you without lifting a finger… and sending robots to do your dirty work."
Instead of answering him, Buffy looked to the few Hellions demons gathered behind their leader. She brought to mind Willow's instructions on how to talk to him. "Are your friends here to fight for you?"
Razor's red eyes scorched into her own, a sickening grimace spreading across his face.
"Oh… I don't need their help to break another little girl. They're just here to bear witness to the second death of the Slayer in Sunnydale… and the last."
"I understand. Shall we begin?"
As if in reply, Razor threw the chain onto the floor roughly. "You had the nerve to challenge my authority, girl. So now we're going to do this the Hellions way."
Buffy was uncertain. Willow hadn't prepared her for this eventuality. What was the correct option? It wasn't in her programming. She creased her brow in thought. Willow had said… Willow had said she could choose. She could make the decision without having to refer to her friends' guidance or fall back on her primary programs.
Buffy chose.
"I accept. What must I do?"
Razor signalled to one of his boys with a sharp incline of his head, who swiftly proceeded to pick up the chain and bind one manacle about his leader's left wrist. He turned a small key, which appeared to seal it closed. Then another Hellions came and lifted the other end, holding the manacle out to Buffy contemptuously, a foul odour on his breath. Buffy gave him her own wrist, but kept her eyes on Razor.
And with that, the two underlings withdrew several feet, and the two combatants began to circle, Buffy following Razor's lead. Neither one of them had given anything away, neither's gaze deviating from the other's eyes, waiting for the other to reveal something, anything.
Razor struck. A lightning-fast blow sped towards Buffy's face, only for Buffy to duck at the last moment and launch a punch of her own towards Razor's solar plexus. To her surprise however, Razor did not so much as flinch at the force of the strike, merely reaching out to grab her wrist, tear it aside with his left hand before launching an uppercut at her head with his right. Just as Buffy began to stumble backwards, Razor yanked firmly on the chain, forcing Buffy forwards before methodically kicking her legs out from under her. Buffy just managed to roll away before Razor extended his maliciously sharp claws and rammed them into the floor where Buffy's chest had been only half a moment before.
Buffy was swiftly becoming aware of a troubling truth; Razor was clearly adept at this kind of fighting – and she was not. In the past her fighting style had simply depended on several styles and forms saved in her memory; techniques that could be executed appropriately in response to an enemy's movement. Yet the addition of this chain, the forced close quarters where every manoeuvre had an additional element, added a new aspect to a fight for which she was not prepared.
Still, she couldn't run. Not only had the chain which bound Buffy made that possibility moot, but Tara had said she had to keep fighting. Her friends were counting on her. Dawn was counting on her.
Buffy pulled up her legs to her stomach, then using the momentum sprung forwards onto her feet. The move elicited a bark of frustration from Razor, who reached for her again with several vicious swipes of his right arm. Buffy quickly swerved out of the way of each stroke, though she felt the tip of his claws slice through the skin of her right cheek with the final blow.
"You know what Slayer," Razor taunted her. "This time I think I'll just hang your head from my handlebars… a much more permanent souvenir, don't you think?"
He struck for her again, and as Buffy raised her forearm to catch the blow, Razor leaned in conspiratorially.
"Do me a favour; smile for me when I cut it off!"
"What's going on out there Wil?" Spike asked impatiently, abandoning his leaning position in favour of pacing back and forth restlessly.
Willow sat against the far wall; her black eyes blind to the room in front of her.
"It could be better." She replied tightly, her eyes darting over the room; watching a fight only she could observe.
"Bugger this then," Spike decided, making for the scorched doorway.
"Stop!" Willow commanded, her tone giving even Spike pause.
"It'll work out better for everyone if they think the Slayer defeated their leader, don't you think?" Tara suggested gently.
"Don't see why it matters – as long as the big lout snuffs it they'll be tearing each other to shreds for a week."
"But," Willow interjected sharply, clearly straining between the focus of maintaining her spell and the conversation. "If the Buffybot slays him, however these guys found out about Buffy, it won't matter. They'll spread the word; the Slayer is back."
"So what?" Spike derided, "We wait here until they rip the bot to bloody pieces twice in as many nights?"
Willow's jaw tightened. "If we have to."
"You've already failed Slayer…" Razor mocked her. "How many of your friendly neighbours do you think I've already slaughtered while you.. what? Hid here in the dark?"
He caught the sideways kick Buffy launched at his stomach with a grin. "You must be quite the disappointment."
Buffy's thoughts couldn't help but spring to her friends. To Willow, to Spike, to Dawn. Was he right? What if she was nothing more than a failure to them – that despite everything she wanted, she could never truly make them happy? Never understand the meaning of some of their words. Never say or do the right things. Never live up to the other Buffy. Never be exactly.
Just as she thought the panic might overwhelm her circuits, a reassuring voice surfaced from deep within Buffy's memory.
Remember your breathing. Think of the breath as… Chi. Air as a life source.
Buffy did not require oxygen to live. But in her moment of building towards an overload, she grasped onto the words, nonetheless. She concentrated on the simple mechanics of the unnecessary breaths. In and out. Nothing else mattered, especially not the words of her opponent.
The technique seemed to give her focus. To win, Buffy had to adapt to the new fighting style. She quickly analysed the last dozen of Razor's attacks, and made her move. Just as Razor moved forward to launch another slash of his claws, Buffy threw herself to the floor, sliding feet-first between Razor's wide stance, yanking on the chain with full force before flipping to her feet once more. Razor only managed a small sound of surprise before his arm was forced after her, driving his face into the floor with a crack, before the rest of the great demon followed suit, leaving him lying face down in the corridor. The cheers of the spectating Hellions had now become a deathly silence.
Buffy watched as Razor lifted his bloodied visage from the floor, spitting out a number of teeth the impact had shattered.
"You're going to wish you hadn't done that," Razor promised, pushing through his obvious pain to force himself to his feet once more.
"I am sorry," Buffy assured him. "But I really do need you to leave."
Her apology merely seemed to enrage Razor further, who erupted into a frenzy of strikes. Buffy dodged and weaved through the most threatening blows, whilst letting her jacket take the brunt of the others. Seeing an opportunity, Buffy caught Razor's right wrist in her hand, before doing the same to his left as he swiped for her again. His eyes narrowing with fury now mere inches from her own, Razor suddenly craned his neck back, before slamming his forehead into Buffy's own.
Buffy heard a muted clang as their heads collided. Razor's eyes seemed to widen with realisation for a moment as he stumbled backwards, only to limply roll back into his skull as his large form collided with the ground.
The other Hellions' jaws almost hit the floor as Buffy turned to face them, smiling through her dazed and hazy vision.
"Now, I do not want to have to say this again." She informed them sternly. "Please get back on your loud motorcycles and go back wherever you came from."
The demons bolted. In their fear, everything in their hands plummeted to the ground as the Hellions scrambled desperately towards the entrance. For a moment, there was only the fading sounds of distant engines, and the gentle breath of the wind.
"Is it over? Like, did we actually win?" Anya's voice echoed from down the corridor, as she peeked her head reluctantly out of the door.
Buffy instinctually began walking towards her friends as they emerged from the classroom, only to be severely slowed once her chain pulled taut with the dead weight of Razor's unconscious form. She doubled back, approaching the spot where the fleeing Hellions had presumably dropped the manacle keys amongst their weaponry.
Just as she dragged Razor far enough to almost reach the keys, Buffy felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Tara step ahead of her, bending down to pick up the fallen key.
"Here, let me." Tara offered, holding out her hand in invitation. Buffy accepted, reaching out her own and allowing her friend to unbind her. Instinctively, Buffy searched Tara's face for approval, and as the manacle fell away, the witch met her gaze, answering her silent question with a small, grateful smile.
"Looks like captain skin-disease is still breathing…" Spike remarked. "Want me to finish the job?"
"Hang on a sec," Xander interjected, putting his arm in front of Spike. "Don't you think we should let the T-800 over there finish the job?"
Spike gave Xander a withering look as he crossed over to Buffy, placing Giles' axe in her hands.
Buffy looked over to Willow, who nodded once solemnly.
Buffy approached Razor, still lying comatose on his back. She raised the axe, and swung downwards, a single strike severing head from body. In contrast to slaying a vampire however, the blow caused an excessive spray of blood to erupt from the force of the wound, spurting in all directions. The group looked on, perturbed, as Buffy reclaimed the axe from the dent in the floor.
"That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!" Buffy exclaimed triumphantly, blood streaked across her smiling face, and for a moment the hall was silent.
"Well…" Xander began, once again determined to fill the quiet. "Those words will now burn a horrifying image into my brain until… forever."
"I thought you got her to stop saying that already?" Anya demanded of Willow, who merely raised her arms and rolled her eyes in resignation.
Tara just cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "Maybe she just likes saying it?"
Buffy's smile just widened into a grin.
Notes:
This will be the final chapter I release in a single bundle to begin with. These chapters work best together, but now I'll be releasing each one daily for the next couple of weeks. Until then, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 6: Home Truths
Chapter Text
After an initial period of stunned silence, Sunnydale slowly began to re-emerge. The emergency services, who always seemed to vanish in the face of the inexplicable, now began to resume their regular duties as if nothing had happened. They - like the rest of the populace - began to either rationalise the last few days' events in their minds, or instead plunged themselves into a routine sense of denial. For the residents of Sunnydale, this was as close as life came to normality.
The sunlight streaming through the slightly ajar curtains roused Dawn reluctantly into consciousness. She pulled the duvet inelegantly over her head, releasing a muffled groan into the fabric. A brief, blurry glance at the alarm clock informed her that Willow and Tara would not approve of her sleeping away her Saturday afternoon. Instead, she rose to her feet and took several sluggish steps towards the window, opening the curtains and gazing down into the street below.
Dawn could see and hear the endeavours of several of their neighbours continuing the week-long battle to repair their vandalised doors and windows. At least it seemed like the majority of the front lawns had effectively been entirely cleared, and the street itself had been pretty well swept two days following the Hellions retreat from Sunnydale, vanishing out of their lives onto the roads beyond.
As Dawn went through the mundanities of the morning routine, she decided that today was the day. Today, she would talk to Willow and Tara about Buffy. Soon enough she was rushing down the stairs and into the living room, where the two women sat on the couch, Willow sorting through a collection of mail whilst Tara made notes beside her.
"Hey there Dawny!" Willow greeted her, putting the pile of opened envelopes to one side for a moment. "How's it goin'?"
"I'm okay. Can umm… can we talk for a sec?"
"Of course, sweetie." Tara answered her, shifting over to the left and patting the centre of the couch in invitation.
"What's on your mind?" Willow asked as Dawn sat down between them.
"Well… it's Buffy – I mean the Buffybot,"
"Oh," Tara began. "Did she try to cook breakfast by herself again, or-"
"No, no, nothing like that," Dawn replied, shaking her head. "It's just… you'll probably think I'm being crazy or something…"
"No, it's okay – go on." Tara encouraged her gently.
"It's just… I've been thinking. Sometimes, like at Spike's place, the stuff she says... the way she talked about how he doesn't like being around her anymore – it seemed to really bother her. Like, like it hurt her. Like she actually, yknow, felt something."
Tara looked pensive for a moment, but Willow just took Dawn's hand, a look of deep sympathy in her eyes. "Dawny, this has got to be super hard for you. Buffy was my best friend – but she was your sister. It's really not okay that you still have to pretend to the whole world that everything's hunky-dory all the time. It's not fair on you to see something that looks like Buffy walking around all the time, pretending to be her... I can't imagine what that's like. But it's super important that you're clear on this; it's not her Dawn."
"Willow's right," Tara agreed. "It can't help the grieving process – stopping you from yknow, trying to move on?"
"I know she's not Buffy," Dawn insisted, shaking her head. "But still I saw it – she worries about things, she feels things."
"Dawn, let me try and explain a sec. You uhh… you remember what Buffybot was made for, right?" Willow asked carefully.
Dawn aimed a half-smirk at Tara. "Not for playing checkers with…"
Tara avoided her gaze sheepishly.
"Uh huh…" Willow continued awkwardly. "Well, basically… she was created to make people happy, see? Specifically… to make Spike happy. To do that, she can sorta recognise basic emotions – facial expressions, the tone in our voices – but that's all it is. We've changed her programming a lot since then, but that's always going to be like the filter through which she sees things, yknow?"
Dawn pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You really think that's all it is?"
Willow nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. Maybe just try doing what I do – when she seems to be concerned about something like that – just be nice, tell her she's wrong, or its just Spike being broody or something like that. Don't let her dwell. She should forget about it soon enough. Our Buffybot doesn't really have the longest attention span…"
Dawn thanked her, rising from the couch and heading towards the kitchen. Willow immediately reached for the pile of bills once again, but Tara briefly excused herself before heading after her.
"Hey, Dawn?" Tara asked, after catching up with the younger girl beside the kitchen table. "I'm sure Willow's right about all this, but… if you like I could keep an eye on Buffybot? Just to check she's doing okay?"
Dawn crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "You don't sound sure to me…"
"Well…" Tara considered. "I don't know anything about robotics, or cybernetics or anything like that… but I… I know what you meant about her. Just, just try not to worry too much about it over the next few days okay? We want you to hit the ground running when the school re-opens on Monday."
"What are you, my evil stepmother now?" Dawn asked dryly, eliciting a playful smile from Tara. "Sure. I'll be sure to squeeze in at least some homework every week… promise."
With that, Dawn quickly embraced Tara before running back upstairs, landing back on her bed with a thump. Without so much as missing a beat, she pulled out her journal and began to scribble the first of today's entries:
Willow doesn't believe me about Buffybot. I don't know if she's right. She may be a super-wicca these days, and super smart besides – but she doesn't know everything. Not everything.
I'm going to bring up taking me out patrolling again at dinner. After all, Willow and Tara promised.
Willow was grateful when Anya barrelled in through the front door, striding into the living room as if she owned the place.
"Hi Anya!" Willow greeted her. "Can we get ya something to eat, or-"
"I only have an hour," Anya blurted out, cutting the other girl off sharply. "If I close the Magic Box for more than one hour, my profit margins are at risk. So… what do you want?"
"If this is a bad time… we could always do this later?" Tara suggested.
Anya sighed, some of the tension releasing from her face. "No, it's fine."
"Something on your mind Anya?" Willow asked. "Cause when there's something on your mind, its usually also kinda… in our ears."
Anya didn't require much persuading. "It's Xander. Ever since the whole… you know, dark ritual in the graveyard he's been…" Anya trailed off for a moment.
"He's been talking about the ritual?" Willow asked.
"No. It's the opposite. He hasn't talked about it. No-one's talking about it – Why? All this time we've focused almost everything on bringing Buffy back – and now it's over… and no-one's saying anything!"
"What's there to say?" Willow asked dejectedly.
"Well, I don't know! All I know is Xander's been all quiet these last few days. He just comes home from work and sits down… he barely even wants to have sex anymore…"
"Anya, it's only been three days..." Tara pointed out. "Grief takes a while to get through your system – and it's different for everyone. Why don't you just give it some time?"
Anya just pouted. "And when was the last time you went three days without sex?"
Neither Willow nor Tara felt the need to answer that.
"Oh, so you two have something more important to talk about?"
Willow held up the pile of envelopes. "Money stuff."
Anya's face broke into a grin, her distraught seemingly forgotten in a moment. After a brief explanation by Willow, she moved to the nearby desk and set about sorting the papers boisterously, copying a series of figures onto a blank notebook beside them. As she worked, Willow and Tara looked on uncertainly, until finally Anya turned to face them once again.
"Okay, so - main problem seems to be the house. It's haemorrhaging cash like… well like a house haemorrhaging cash. What's left of Buffy's inheritance money has been shielding you from it so far – but obviously her mom's medical bills emptied that well pretty thoroughly…"
"How long would you say we have?" Tara asked, taking Willow's hand almost unconsciously.
Anya looked thoughtful for a moment.
"A couple months – as long as you don't send Dawn on some extravagant shopping sprees. Then… well we have a problem. Well, more accurately you have a problem. I'm fine."
Willow cast her eyes to the side in a resigned manner. "Thanks for that Anya."
"Don't thank me. Thank capitalism!" Anya proclaimed with an obnoxious grin.
After accepting an invitation to dinner before patrolling that night, she brusquely rushed out of the house, barely leaving time to say goodbye.
"Well, that was…" Tara started.
"It was." Willow agreed. "I hoped it all just looked worse than it actually is."
"We can handle this," Tara assured her. "There are options – we could find part-time jobs, or maybe just get a loan to cover this next semester…"
"Or…" Willow suggested. "I mean I could… yknow… probably… do a spell and -"
"No!" Tara exclaimed suddenly, dropping Willow's hand and pulling away. "Willow, we can't use magic to solve our money issues!"
Willow frowned in surprise at Tara's strong reaction. "Why not?"
"Because that's a line we can't cross!" Tara insisted. "We can't just use magic in our normal lives to make our problems just go away – that's not what magic is for Willow!"
"But we're not living a normal life!" Willow countered vehemently. "We're looking after Dawn, trying to save our house… meanwhile, we're working hard to make it look like Buffy's all fine and dandy – and any free time we might use to make some money we use researching and fighting whatever demons roll on into town. It's not about using magic as some quick and easy fix – this is about giving us the time to do what we have to do, to keep people safe Tara!"
Tara rubbed her hands together pensively, her eyes cast downwards. "Maybe that's how it starts Wil. But it's a slippery slope – and I don't like where it leads."
"Well - you're wrong."
Tara raised her eyes to Willow once again, her face full of hurt. Willow reached out an apologetic arm, but Tara just ignored it, getting to her feet and running upstairs. Willow watched her go, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. Why couldn't Tara see it? Magic was a power she had earned, through years of dedication. She'd used it to save countless people – and now she had the power to fix their own problems – and she deserved to have them fixed.
Willow just closed her eyes and tried to forget the argument ever happened.
As Xander and Anya joined Dawn and Tara at the table, Willow carried the immense glass bowl of macaroni cheese in from the kitchen, placing it at the table's centre with a muted clink.
The meal was quiet. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, asking after Xander's latest construction project, Anya's week at the Magic Box, Dawn's latest high school antics and Willow and Tara's seminars, yet the pauses between each subject were tangible, nonetheless. Each of their gazes were downcast, save for during the fleeting snippets of conversation which passed across the table.
Dawn finished pushing the last pieces of pasta around her plate. This particular dinner had never been about food.
"So, guys…" She started coyly, keeping her eyes on the plate. "Can I go patrol with you tonight?"
Everyone's eyes shot up. The fork carrying the last of Xander's third helping froze on the way to his mouth, and Willows fingers began twitching atop the table.
"Well, Dawny…" Willow began. "We talked it over at the last Scooby meeting…"
"And?" Dawn asked with impatient enthusiasm.
"We think getting you started on research might be a better approach," Xander answered, gesticulating slightly with his loaded fork.
"Wait what?" Dawn questioned sharply, dropping her fork onto the plate.
"Dawn, things can get pretty crazy out on patrol," Tara explained softly. "We never know what might be waiting for us out there – we just can't be sure we can keep you safe"
"From death," Anya clarified, emphasised by a series of small, rapid nods. "In a variety of variously horrible ways. Stabbing, biting, mauling… that sort of thing."
"But if we get you started hitting the books…" Xander offered, "you'll start amassing a whole bunch of demon know-how, so when the time comes…"
"You'll be ready." Willow finished with a confident smile, reaching out to take Anya's empty plate beside her and place it neatly atop her own.
Dawn shot her an underwhelmed frown in reply, but nodded glumly, nonetheless.
Thoughts continued to buzz around Dawn's mind long after she turned out her bedside light. Willow and Tara had promised to help her learn to fight demons – to fight for herself. Sure, helping research was something, kind of, but she was pretty sure whatever she found wouldn't help her much when a vampire jumped out of a nearby alley and backed her against a wall.
Eugh.
All in all, it was definitely an every-type-of-cereal-raid kind of night.
Silent as a ghost, Dawn slowly inched open her bedroom door, slipping out into the hallway before gliding down the stairs. She was just swerving around into the dining room when she caught something on the corner of her eye.
Turning back around, Dawn blinked in surprise.
It was Buffy.
She was stood in front of the small end-table beside the couch, her head slightly bowed. She still wore her now regular patrolling outfit - the clothes Spike had given her before heading out to fight the Hellions leader. Between her hands was a picture-frame which Dawn immediately recognised.
"Buffy?" Dawn asked, slight apprehension in her voice. "What are you doing down here?"
Buffy seemed as though she hadn’t noticed her, instead moving her right hand so that her fingers were touching the image.
"Buffy?" Dawn repeated, stepping within arm's reach of her almost-sister.
"This is our mother." Buffy stated simply, her eyes not leaving the image.
Dawn nodded solemnly.
"But I do not know her," Buffy admitted, finally turning her head to face Dawn. "Why do I not know her Dawn?"
"Oh. Well… you see – I mean it's-" Dawn stuttered, blinking rapidly as she tried to form the words. She felt a weight in her chest as she tried to answer.
"Was she tall?" Buffy asked. "What clothes did she wear? Was she funny? Did she like peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches? What was her favourite colour?"
She fired off each silly question more rapidly than the last, her words incongruous with the sincere seriousness in her tone and her manner. As Dawn just froze, silent, Buffy stopped.
"She was the other Buffy's mother." She finally admitted. "Her biological ancestor. I… I do not have a biological ancestor as I am not… human. But when I see this," Buffy articulated, pointing to the picture once again. Then she hesitated, narrowing her eyes slightly as if she was trying to peer through a blinding fog. "I do not understand. I know she is my mother."
"Buffy…" Dawn finally answered, fidgeting awkwardly on the spot. "It's… it's just a little complicated – y-you shouldn't worry about it."
In her panic, she had fallen back on Willow's advice after all.
"Xander called her the real Buffy." Buffy informed her, almost sadly. "Am I not real?"
Buffy put down the picture, before raising her hand to touch her own cheek. "Because I feel like I am real. And you are my sister, Dawn."
Dawn started to back away slowly, holding her hands out in front of her. It was too much.
"I-I'm sorry. I can't – I just can't!"
Dawn sprinted up the stairs, her earlier attempts to remain unheard forgotten in a moment. She ran straight into her bedroom, wrenching the door aside and tumbling roughly into her bed. She curled up amongst the chaotic mess of covers and pillows, failing to repress the sobs of grief and hurt which suddenly wracked her. Like Buffybot, she didn't understand either.
"Dawn?"
She looked up to see Tara in the doorway, one hand resting against the side of the door, sleep heavy in her eyes. Dawn raised her tear-stained face, and in response Tara crossed to the bed and sat beside her, wordlessly embracing the younger girl. They stayed like that for a while, until Dawn became more tranquil, and then Tara began to speak to her in soft, calming whispers.
Chapter 7: Going Off-Script
Chapter Text
In the briefest of moments, Buffy blinked the night away.
When her eyes flicked open once again, the room was filled with morning light, and Tara was looking down at her with uncertainty.
"Morning Buffy," Tara greeted her with a polite smile, unplugging the power unit from her lower torso and sealing her access port before laying the cable gently on the floor.
"Good morning!" Buffy responded with an instinctual grin. "How are you today?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Tara assured her, furrowing her brow. "W-Willow and I wanted you downstairs, is that alright?"
"Of course!" Buffy insisted, sitting up sharply and manoeuvring herself to the edge of the bed. As she rose, Tara placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder, motioning for her to sit.
"But before that – can we talk for just a sec? It's about last night."
Buffy's smile fell from her face as she accessed the relevant memory files. The intense pain on her sister's face. The something she had felt when she saw Dawn flee from her.
"I had a talk with Dawn." Tara explained. "She was… pretty shaken up."
"I know." Buffy affirmed. "She was very upset. I must have said something very wrong."
"Buffy… what were you doing walking around so late?" Tara asked carefully. "It's not like Willow to just forget to shut you down."
"That is true," Buffy agreed. "But lately Willow has been telling me to put myself to sleep. I can do it very easily."
"Oh," Tara replied, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Then why didn't you?"
Buffy paused for a moment. Ever since her final confrontation with the Hellions demons, she had become aware of the extent of her new programming; the choices she could make.
"I did not want to." She finally admitted. "There was something I wanted to do. I needed time."
Tara seemed taken aback at that.
Reading her expression, Buffy was quick to apologise. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." She promised.
Tara shook her head. "Buffy… it's not that you did something wrong exactly, it's just… I guess we should have expected that you…" She closed her eyes for a moment, gesturing with her hands. "You know what? It doesn't matter right now."
"Is Dawn okay?" Buffy asked.
"Dawn's doing fine." Tara assured her, lowering her hand to place it atop Buffy's. "She's headed out to the mall with Janice– it'll help clear her head."
"I am glad." Buffy informed her. "Friends are very important. But I would still like to make it up to her."
"Well…" Tara considered thoughtfully, "you can help me make dinner later if you want? I thought we might try and make Dawn's favourite pizza for when she gets back."
Buffy's face lit up with delight. "I would like that - very much. Can I bring it to the table?"
Tara smiled kindly at her. "I don't see why not…"
And just like that, Buffy thought everything was alright again.
Dawn smiled half-heartedly as Janice emerged from the dressing room, modelling the sixth outfit in a row. She made sure to say the right things, echoes of what her friend wanted to hear – her decision having been made before Dawn said a word. Still, Dawn had to play her role – Janice knew all the cool people, so the last thing Dawn wanted was her disapproval.
As Janice vanished into the dressing room once again, Dawn wandered deeper into the store. Passing through the jungle of clothing stands, filled to the brim with attire of every shape and description, she shortly found herself in the jewellery section. Figuring she still had another minute, Dawn eyeballed the earrings, necklaces and bracelets which lay out before her in several open-topped display cases. Absent-mindedly, Dawn lifted a particular silver necklace from the case, approaching the nearest mirror whilst fixing it around her slender neck. Dawn ran her finger along the rose pendant, before beginning to examine the ornate chain decorated with faux-thorns a few inches on each side.
Obeying a compulsion she couldn't quite explain, Dawn warily checked her surroundings. Content no eyes were on her, she undid the catch at the back of her neck, subtlety tearing off the tag before placing the necklace in the pocket of her denim jacket in a single smooth movement.
Dawn felt a rush, felt her heart pumping that little bit faster. The risk, the excitement was like a streak of colour across the grey despondency she had felt slowly growing inside herself these past months. Ever since her mother, and Buffy. Her confrontation with Buffybot the previous night had just brought it all to the forefront of her mind, and after she cried herself out in Tara's arms, she felt the cold once again.
She spotted Janice re-emerging from the cubicle, and so quickly crossed the shop floor to join her friend. Then she smiled, reading from the other girl's face that this skirt was particularly chic, and complimented her appropriately. And all the while, her fingers traced the edges of the rose, keeping the thrill alive.
The sun was just setting as Dawn started to make her way towards home.
After the mall closed around five, Janice had suggested they take a detour around the park before heading back along the streets. As they wandered along the earthen paths, passing through low-hanging autumn trees and winding around various ponds and hedges, the conversation predominantly revolved around planning the biggest imminent event on the social calendar; Halloween. Though it was still a few weeks away, Janice was breathlessly laying out what she wanted to happen, in particular bragging about the older boys she had snagged on the Sunnydale party circuit, in hopes of a possible after-dark rendezvous. She seemed to be testing Dawn, flashing her looks and signals that were seemingly intended to appraise her interest. As soon as Janice mentioned Justin's name however, Dawn was firmly on board. She didn't know him well. Okay, to be perfectly honest she didn't really know him at all. But their eyes had locked briefly at parties here and there, and she had felt the involuntary flutter in her chest that always followed that initial moment of connection.
However, just as the sky had begun to glow with hints of orange and red, the two girls emerged onto the roads once again. Soon enough, Janice was waving goodbye and turning off down her street, and Dawn was left alone to wander the silent sidewalk, hearing only the sounds of her footsteps on the stone beneath her. As the world around her gradually began to lose the light, Dawn felt a sense of unease creeping up on her. She took a moment to check the sidewalk behind her, releasing a long, calming breath as she saw nothing. Satisfied, she swivelled her head back around only to let out a startled gasp at the dark shape which suddenly loomed above her.
"Spike!?" She questioned breathlessly, as the blond vampire inhaled on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out from between his teeth.
"Shouldn't be wanderin' about this late little bit," he chided her. "Thought you would know better by now…"
"It's a five-minute walk from here Spike," Dawn pointed out, making a show of casually walking past him. "It's not even really dark yet…"
"Sun's low enough," Spike countered, lifting his arms and gesturing towards himself for a moment before turning to follow her. "It's not like you – not lately anyway. Thought the days of you charging straight into danger were behind you? Thought getting caught by the big bad over and over again had lost some of its appeal…"
"Leave me alone Spike…" Dawn demanded, crossing her arms as she continued to walk.
"We've done this dance before Dawn," Spike pointed out, overtaking her before stopping dead in her path, his long leather coat billowing out behind him. He placed two pale hands on her shoulders, his grip only tightening after her attempt to shrug him off.
"Big sis isn't around anymore little bit. So I'm not gonna tarnish her memory by letting the one thing she loved most get the Nobel prize for being a complete moron!"
Dawn's frown just deepened. "Buffy – that's all you see when you look at me, isn't it? You're not trying to protect me – you're just trying to hold on to her!"
Dawn actually felt physically sick, a nausea which came with the reminder of the superior place Buffy had always held in the lives of everyone around her.
Dawn grabbed both of Spike's wrists as if to emphasise the point, just as he finally allowed her to remove them.
"I can't just live my whole life thinking of what Buffy would want – what Buffy would do!"
With that Dawn petulantly stormed home, leaving Spike behind her, watching.
Once Dawn was safely off to school on Monday morning, Willow sprang into action.
She didn't want Dawn to have to worry about anything surrounding their financial conundrum – she had enough on her plate as it was.
Sitting on the couch beside Buffybot, Willow lifted the shoulder of her flowery white dress, examining the synthetic skin beneath. She ran her finger delicately over the barely visible seams where Willow had transplanted sections from April a few days previously, searching meticulously for flaws or discolouration.
"How's she looking?" Tara asked.
"Not bad," Willow assessed. "And it seems like the chemical dye did what is was supposed to. At worst, someone might think she has a couple scars." Willow lowered her eyes for a moment. "You sure you want to go with that dress Buffy?"
Buffybot nodded vigorously. "It's very pretty. Is it not correct?"
"It'll do fine," Tara assured her, crossing her arms. "Do you want to go and do your hair quickly? It's best if… well if you look your best."
Buffybot rose from the couch, swiftly walking to the stairs before vanishing onto the floor above. Willow watched her go, an almost melancholic expression on her face.
"What's wrong Wil?" Tara asked, clearly picking up on her girlfriend's mannerisms. "You think she should wear something else?"
"It's not that, I'm sure it's smart enough for a loan application. It's just… it's not exactly very 'Buffy', is it?"
"Buffy did own it," Tara pointed out. "But even so; it is very Buffybot, don't you think? All bright and… kinda sweet?"
Willow considered it for a moment. "I don't know. The whole point of having the Buffybot is that she, yknow, acts like Buffy. Not sure how I feel about her suddenly going off-script…"
Tara smiled coyly. "Since when has she ever been on-script?"
"Fair point..." Willow conceded with a small smile. "We got everything?"
Tara held out the document file to her. "We do. She'll do fine Wil. We've explained how important this is."
Willow looked profoundly sceptical, worry blooming in her eyes. "What if they don't even let us in there with her? What if she says something and all of a sudden they're calling round to the school, or telling the authorities Buffy isn't fit to look after Dawn?"
Tara interrupted the building cyclone of panic, pulling Willow in for a quick kiss and placing her warm hands against Willow's flushing cheeks. The rush of feelings her touch brought seemed to pacify the storm of worry in her mind for a moment.
"I just don't think that will happen Wil. And if it does… well, then we'll deal with it. One step at a time, like we always have. We'll be strong."
"Strong like an Amazon?" Willow asked sweetly.
Tara pulled her in for another chaste kiss.
"Absolutely."
The October sun still shone down with considerable heat as the three women walked into town. Only the slightest edge of chill in the breeze gave away the fact that Summer was behind them.
Tara and Willow walked either side of Buffy as they traversed the criss-cross of sidewalks into the heart of Sunnydale, mostly in order to ensure she didn't suddenly get the urge to wander off. No matter how often she went out during the day, Buffy always seemed to observe the world around her as though she were seeing it for the first time. Birds flying overhead would cause her to stop and turn, passing cars and bikes would catch her eye, and above all she seemed utterly fascinated by people.
Tara found the experience rather surreal, as if suddenly gaining a glimpse into how a parent watches their young child interact with the world. Especially with Willow at her side.
But then again, you didn't usually have to take a toddler to arrange a major financial transaction.
The bank was bristling with activity. Whilst Tara held a few seats in the waiting area, Willow and Buffy joined the queue which snaked throughout the room. Ten minutes passed sluggishly. The growing irritation on Willow's face contrasted sharply with the blind eagerness on Buffybot's. Eventually, they finally let the clerk know 'Buffy Summers' had arrived for her appointment.
The room to which the lady guided Willow and Buffybot was segregated into several office cubicles, each with a desk and chairs. Between the thin glass partitions, the cubicles were interspersed with more cushy waiting areas. Their escort guided them to one of the desks, motioning for Buffy and Willow to sit and informing them that one of the bank's representatives would be with them shortly. Willow began intertwining her fingers nervously as they waited. After a few moments, Willow noticed that Buffy seemed to be paying particular attention to what she was doing, creasing her brow thoughtfully for a moment before her hands began to imitate her.
"Carl Savitsky, loan officer." the small, balding man introduced himself, entering the cubicle from behind the two girls' chairs.
Willow promptly slapped Buffy's hands apart, as the bank representative confidently sat across the table from them. Buffy's face fell for a moment, before Willow made a show of flashing a quick grin, which Buffy quickly imitated. The large, round glasses the banker wore gave the slightest impression of a peering owl, and his severe black suit and muted red tie contrasted sharply against his attempt at a welcome smile.
Carl flipped open the leather binder on the desk in front of him, flicking through the pages for a moment before bringing his eyes up to the two women.
"Buffy Summers," he stated rhetorically. "That would be…"
"Me!" Buffybot exclaimed excitedly. "And this is Willow."
Carl smiled a little awkwardly, clearly taken aback by the boldness of her response.
"I see," he recovered after a brief moment, placing his interlocked hands on the desk. "Buffy… interesting name. Is that a nickname, or?"
"No," Buffybot pointed out. "Nick is not my name."
Willow started to feel the pangs of dread in her stomach. She was starting to really wish the bank had let Tara come through with them.
Carl let out a single breathy chuckle.
Willow joined him with a small, awkward laugh – gesturing over to Buffybot. "Oh Buffy… you… she's a real kidder this one…"
"I see," Carl answered again, clearly slightly uncomfortable. "This is just for the record you understand - Is Buffy your birth name, or is it short for something?"
Willow's eyes widened slightly.
Don't improvise Buffy, don't improvise don't…
"Buffalo." Buffy blurted out tactlessly. "Buffalo Summers."
Oh God.
Carl's mouth was just hanging slightly open now, his eyes creased.
"Buffy will do fine." He eventually replied, clearing his throat." So… umm… Miss Summers , it says here you've never applied for credit before - is that correct?"
After a brief glance from Willow, Buffybot nodded vigorously.
"Excellent. Did you bring the relevant files, some identification?"
Willow passed the document file across the table to Carl. He opened it promptly, pulling out Buffy's national identity card from the top of the pile of papers within, holding it up to the light and squinting briefly at Buffy. Then he nodded once in satisfaction, before beginning to delve through the list of financial records she and Tara had painstakingly put together.
"Ah." Savitsky halted in a worrying tone, raising his eyes to Buffy. "It appears we have… something of a tangle."
Willow began to twiddle her fingers once again. "Well… money's becoming a bit of an issue its true…"
Carl politely held out a hand to stop her. "You misunderstand me, Miss…"
"Rosenburg."
"You misunderstand me Miss Rosenburg," He said, before turning back to Buffy. "You see Miss Summers, the only collateral you have is your house – which has been losing equity over the past several years. For some reason, property values in Sunnydale have never been competitive…"
Willow didn't need to speculate on why that was the case.
"So I'm afraid refinancing just isn't an option."
Willow's heart sank.
"But we need money!" Buffybot insisted.
Carl gritted his teeth, before soldiering on nonetheless. "You see Miss Summers, you have no income. No job…"
"I do!" Buffybot countered self-righteously. "I have a job. I am the-"
The conversation was suddenly halted by an explosion of glass from the edge of the office cubicle, sending sharp fragments flying through the air, flooding the desk and covering Willow, Buffybot and Carl. After instinctually shielding her eyes, Willow looked up to see a horrific demon yelling a guttural war cry, stretching its scaly, muscled arms menacingly into the air, and the unconscious form of a security guard crumpled between the desk and the wall.
To Willow's eye, the creature looked like some sort of monstrous anthropoid shark, viciously sharp uneven yellow teeth bared below beady, vicious eyes. To her credit, Buffybot sprang into action immediately, rushing up to the screeching behemoth and skilfully parrying the first few wild blows the demon launched at her, before landing a few of her own.
The air was filled with frightened screams as Willow crouched down against the wall, reaching out with her mind.
Tara?
I'm here Wil. Security won't let anyone near the back – what's going on in there?
Demon attack. Buffybot's on it.
Do you recognise the species? Any weaknesses?
It has kinda bad teeth?
Noted. Anything else?
Working on it!
Willow's mental link with her partner was suddenly severed as Buffybot crashed through the desk in front of her. She lay in a wide-eyed daze amongst the wreckage for a moment, her white floral dress now torn and covered in sawdust. Willow then heard the sounds of several wild gunshots, freezing her to the spot for a moment before she peeked through the broken sheet of glass. She caught sight of the rampaging demon charging out of the fire door with one final, defiant roar, leaving devastation in its wake.
"Come back here!" Buffybot demanded indignantly, raising her head from the clutter and debris all around her. "We are not finished!"
Within a minute or so, Carl Savitsky emerged from behind one of the cubicle walls, trepidation heavy in his beady eyes as he ensured the monster was gone. Willow helped Buffy from out of the wreckage of Carl's desk, helping her brush herself down before the robot turned to face the still shaking loan officer.
"I saved you!" She pointed out tactlessly. "You are most welcome. Can I get my money now?"
From the slightly apologetic change in the man's face, Willow immediately knew that it was a vain hope.
"Well… on the bright side," Tara began brightly, "A loan was only a temporary fix anyway. There are other options."
"Maybe…" Willow pondered, her eyes distant. "Still Tara, after the whole 'saving his life' thing, you'd think he'd make some kind of exception."
"I don't think it works that way Wil," Tara replied apologetically. "I mean, he could have lost his job or something."
Willow shot her a playful look. "Yknow, this is usually the time when we hate him together. It's a best friend thing. Showing a united front of mutual loathing and trying to make me feel better."
Tara smirked back at her. "Not very grown up though, is it sweetie?"
"Don't see why we have to be a grown up all the time…" Willow shot back warmly. "So, anyway I had this idea…"
"mmhmm?"
"Well… we're obviously pretty busy with yknow, the college thing. And the demon fighting thing…"
Tara nodded.
"But Buffybot," Willow added, gesturing to the grinning robot striding several steps ahead of them. "Buffybot doesn't really have anything to do all day – Dawn's at school, we're in classes. Well, what if instead of turning her off we… got her a job."
Willow tensed, expecting a far more shocked reaction than the thoughtful look that passed across Tara's face.
"What would she do?" Tara asked, turning her gaze to follow Buffybot. At the moment, she had halted her slightly stiff march, her attention seemingly entirely enraptured by the sight of a group of small children swarming over a local playground. Buffy looked on, fascinated.
"Well – we'd have to train her up, but maybe… maybe she could clean?" Willow suggested. "Or fix stuff. Or something that involves lifting heavy objects – or maybe professional wrestling!"
Her last jest had the desired effect as Tara chuckled softly.
"What do you think?"
Tara pursed her lips for a moment. "Well… I'm not sure. She's like a kid really – all… bubbly, and fully of energy? Maybe she could work in a nursery or something."
Willow's eyes went wide, her face blanching slightly.
"Are you okay Willow?" Tara asked, her voice clearly showing she had picked up on Willow's reaction.
"Yeah!" Willow assured her unconvincingly. "I mean it's a nice idea Tara… But well – even if Buffybot could be trusted around some very, very fragile kindergartners, to work with little kids they… I mean the company has to do some pretty thorough background checks…"
"Right…" Tara acknowledged, motioning Willow to continue.
"Well... it's just that… at her old school - the one in L.A. – Buffy sort of… burned down the gym."
Tara blinked. "Oh."
"Then she comes to Sunnydale – she ends up missing lots 'o classes, pretty sure she was investigated for murder one time, one summer she just vanishes... and then at the end of three years here, the whole school goes… kaboom."
There was silence between them for a few moments.
"It doesn't look good, does it?" Tara admitted finally, earning a knowing look from Willow.
Tara tried to look optimistic.
"Maybe something else."
Chapter 8: Waiting in the Wings
Notes:
Got my first kudos on here today! Lovely to see folks are starting to interact with this story on here, and I'd love to get your thoughts in the comments. Thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy!
Chapter Text
In a basement below an ordinary, middle-class home in Sunnydale, three young men were in way over their heads. They were huddled together in a corner, casting furtive glances behind their turned backs to the intimidating figure that had invaded their isolated sanctuary. Across the room from them, the patience of a particular violent Mm'fashnik demon was wearing dangerously thin.
"Are we really gonna kill her?" Jonathan asked. "That's so sad!"
Warren narrowed his eyes scornfully. "Shut up, Whine-athan."
Andrew shifted nervously. "But ... I, I don't want to kill Buffy either."
"Yeah," Jonathan emphatically agreed. "She saved my life a bunch of times! Plus… she's hot."
Andrew firmly nodded his agreement.
Warren remained unmoved. "It's her or us. I mean, we have to do it. "
"We're talking about murder," Andrew pointed out squeamishly.
"No," Warren dismissed callously. "We're talking about staying alive, and since this is my mom's house, I think what I say goes."
The cloak of authority in which Warren had enveloped himself seemed to fall to the floor as he finished that particular sentence.
"But aside from the moral issues, and the mess, we can get in trouble for murder" Andrew insisted, a childlike fear in his naive blue eyes.
"Duh!" Warren scoffed. "You know, the last I checked, the authorities also frowned on bank robbery too. Genius!"
"I don't even know if we could kill Buffy," Jonathan weighed in again. "She's got super-strength. "
Andrew nodded emphatically. "And, you know, killing people… this is not why we got together in the first place."
Jonathan agreed. "Yeah. We teamed up with one clear, super-cool mission statement. Remember?
All three young men stared into space for a moment, almost as if they were re-living a seminal moment in their lives.
"Of course I remember," Warren insisted, snapping them all back to reality. "It was last month."
"Then you know we have a mission!" Jonathan exclaimed, pointing at a whiteboard against the wall in front of them, before beginning to read the agenda aloud. "Shrink rays... trained gorillas. Workable prototype jetpacks... and chicks, chicks, chicks. I know that's the action I signed on for."
"Me too." Andrew added. "Ixnay on the urdermay."
Frustrated, Warren gave in. "Vote!"
"Okay," Jonathan began. "Who's for not killing Buffy?
Andrew and Jonathan immediately thrust their arms into the air, parting their fingers in a Vulcan salute. Eventually, reluctantly, Warren raised his own.
"Agreed." All three called out in unison.
"So what are we gonna do about this Mm'Fashnik guy?"
A glimmer of cunning came into Warren's dark eyes. "Ah, wait here. Okay, I got an idea."
The two underlings watched in utter disbelief as their leader fearlessly rushed up to the Demon, put an arm around its enormous scaled shoulders, and whispered something in its ear. The next thing they knew, the Demon seemed to grunt in agreement, before vanishing towards the exit stairs – which creaked burdensomely as he ascended into the late afternoon.
Andrew and Jonathan merely continued to stare at Warren in breathless amazement as he swaggered over to them once again.
Jonathan struggled to find his voice. "How'd you make him do that?"
"What are you, some kind of... Jedi?" Andrew asked foolishly.
Warren eagerly lapped up the sycophantic awe in their faces. "The Force can sometimes have great power on the weak-minded…"
"Huh…" Andrew murmured thoughtfully, staring off into the distance – or rather as it turned out, staring blankly at an unoffending garden rake hanging off the basement wall about five metres hence.
Jonathan seemed to find equal solace in the air conditioning unit.
Dawn strode back into the Summers' residence in a state of triumph.
She had done it – amidst a Scooby gang which had been researching demons for years, she had been the one to identify the mysterious Mm'fashnik demon. Well, a lot less mysterious now she knew what it was. The Mm'fashnik - not the Muh'fashnik thank you Xander – as it happens was little more than a demon for hire, causing chaos, murder and mayhem for a quick buck. Figures.
She wasn't exactly hoping that the appearance of this enormous humanoid reptile was hearkening an oncoming apocalypse – okay, maybe a little – but only so she could show the gang that she could play her part - a part just as important or special as any one of them.
Willow closed the door behind them, whilst Tara headed for the kitchen, doubtless to start preparing one of her now traditional evening meals. It made Dawn smile to see how much genuine joy Tara seemed to get out of what Dawn had always seen as a tedious chore. Thinking back – perhaps it wasn't so surprising. Dawn had found out first-hand what kind of family Tara had come from, and afterwards it wasn't hard to put together why she was so quiet, why she stuttered, and sometimes seemed to make herself invisible during her first few months with Willow. But now she had a family she chose, and that had chosen and embraced her in return. Tara didn't hide anymore.
At that, maybe Dawn would help make dinner tonight.
She had just turned the corner into the dining room when she heard the cry.
"WILLOW!"
Dawn froze, unable to move for a moment as she began to hear a series of violent crashes, emphasised by the smashing of glass. She screamed as she saw Tara crash against the doorframe in front of her, her head thumping soundly against the wood. Dawn could only watch in horror, unable to move. A massive figure loomed into her line of sight, covered in scaly skin of a dark turquoise. It looked as though it had be stuffed insight its tight leather jacket and pants, seemingly imitating a standard 'tough-guy' image.
"You are NOT the Slayer! Where is she!?" The Mm'fashnik roared, ripping a long knife from the nearest kitchen surface before catching sight of Dawn.
Then Willow was there, grabbing Dawn by the sleeve of her shirt and pulling her away.
"Dawn, get upstairs – now!"
Dawn didn't even think to question it. She ran. There wasn't room for any other thought in her head besides the demanding terror. Dawn didn't even remember climbing the stairs, only realising after she plunged through the door, tripping over her own feet, that the bedroom wasn't her own.
Dawn reached for the bed, gripping a fistful of the covers and trying to wrench herself up, succeeding only in pulling them onto her. She could still hear the demon's battle cries as she finally emerged shaking onto the bed, grabbing the arms of the still, silent figure lying dormant before her.
"Buffy," Dawn sobbed. "Buffy we need you – wake up, please wake up!"
Buffy was silent.
Dawn tried shaking her sister, trying to set off her detectors or whatever it was she had.
Buffy was still.
Hyperventilating with panic, Dawn scrunched her eyes shut, trying to regain control of her breathing – trying to think.
She caught sight of Buffy's power cable lying beside the bed, and something finally clicked in Dawn's head. She fumbled with the bottom of Buffy's top, pulling it over her stomach and feeling for the access switch. The layers of surface skin peeled away, revealing Buffy's power and access ports and… nothing. Just a few blinking lights, tiny screw-holes and other components Dawn couldn't begin to fathom.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Each one louder, each one closer.
Dawn exhaled sharply, her head snapping around to the still open door.
Oh God.
No Dawn, A reassuring voice echoed in her mind. You can do this. Focus, remember. How did Willow reactivate her after finishing her repairs – at Spike's, you were right there with her!
Regaining her focus, Dawn reached for Buffy's neck, slipping a trembling hand beneath her golden hair. She ran her fingers around the top of her neck, searching for the mechanism she remembered Willow activating. As a large shadow passed into the hallway, Dawn felt the skin give way beneath her touch.
Buffy's eyes opened.
"Dawn?" She asked curiously, causing Dawn to let out a sob of utter relief. She immediately tried to pull Buffy to her feet, pulling her towards the end of the bed. After a moment of apparent confusion, Buffy allowed her sister to yank her to her feet.
"Buffy, Its Tara, she's…" Dawn started to explain, just as a hulking figure filled the doorway.
"You!" Buffy exclaimed, clearly recognising the creature. Buffy turned back to Dawn for a moment. "Stay behind me."
For a moment, Dawn forgot that it wasn't really her.
"Slayer… Finally!" The demon practically shouted, raising both of its enormous arms before slamming them downwards towards where Buffy was stood. Buffy neatly side-stepped the blow at the last moment, moving to her left and carefully manoeuvring Dawn behind her.
The bed was not so fortunate. The two nearest legs promptly collapsed under the primal force of the Mm'fashnik's blows, the cushions and covers collapsing into a chaotic heap.
In the brief moment the demon was unbalanced from the force of his strike, Buffy aimed a kick towards his scaly neck, knocking him into the wall opposite. The plaster cracked under the force, and dust erupted over its head.
The monster seemed to explode with rage, letting out a primeval shriek and launching at Buffy once again. Dawn had no chance to escape through the door, the two fighters were rapidly exchanging blows that Dawn was sure could shatter any bone in her body if she got too close.
Dawn dropped to the floor, crawling into the small space remaining under the half-collapsed bed. She watched the duel in fragmented moments, catching small snippets whenever she moved her head out slightly from under the bed. After what couldn't have been more than a minute however, the sounds of struggle seemed to move further and further away, and out of the room.
Dawn took her chance.
She pulled herself out from under the bed, shadowing the wall to the doorway. After ensuring the coast was clear, Dawn sprinted into the hallway, passing behind the Mm'fashnik which was still furiously attacking Buffy with blows and slashes in the hallway. She all but threw herself down the stairs, charging headlong into the dining room, where everything had begun.
Beside the corner of the flipped and wrecked dining table, Willow was on her knees, hunched over with her red hair strewn over her face. After a moment, Dawn could see she was bleeding from a wound on her head, continuously trying and failing to grab onto the table and lift her own body from the dining room floor. Tara wasn't moving at all, still slumped against the entrance to the kitchen. Her heart feeling as though it were about to burst through her chest, Dawn ripped the phone from its rest, quickly speed dialling the number she needed.
"Hello?"
"Xander, we need you here – now!" Dawn shouted, desperately wanting him to hurry.
"Dawn?" Xander asked, clearly taken aback by her panic. "Cool it a sec, what's happening?"
"There's no time!" Dawn insisted. "The Mm'fashnik is here! Willow and Tara are…. please just hurry!"
"We'll be right there. Just get somewhere safe, okay Dawnster?!"
Dawn just nodded, too frazzled even to note before she had put the phone down that there was no way Xander could have seen it.
She crossed the room to Tara, bending down and gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Tara? Tara are you okay?"
Tara didn't respond. Dawn placed two fingers on Tara's wrist, whilst watching for her breathing. She was relieved to see her chest slowly rise and fall, and feel a steady pulse beneath Tara's skin. For the first time, Dawn was grateful for the dull first aid course she and her class had been forced to sit through last Spring. Still, considering the force with which Tara had hit her head, Dawn didn't want to risk moving her into the recovery position.
Instead, Dawn moved on to the dining room. Willow's condition hadn't changed, her hand still struggling to grip onto the fallen table. For the first time, Dawn noticed the kitchen knife jutting out of one of the walls, and the red drops of blood on the wooden floor beside Willow, forming small streams as they came together.
Dawn put an arm around the older girl, helping her up onto unsteady feet.
"Can you walk?" Dawn asked her, trying her best to support Willow.
"Tara…" Willow whispered in a pained voice, placing her right hand over a bleeding thigh.
"She's unconscious," Dawn explained. "But she's okay – at least I think so. She's breathing." Dawn hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
"Where… where's the demon?" Willow asked, seemingly trying to regain her focus.
"Upstairs – Buffy's fighting him. Xander's on his way."
"Help me to the kitchen," Willow told her, clearing the hair from her face with her arm. As she did so, Dawn noticed the nasty cuts which had torn her sleeve open.
Dawn did as she asked, as the sounds of breaking wood and cracking plaster filled the house.
"Dawny, there's a first aid kit in the cabinet," Willow explained as Dawn lowered her to the ground beside Tara. "Just above the refrigerator. Can you grab it for me?"
Once again, Dawn complied, lifting the surprisingly heavy black box out of the cupboard and placing it beside Willow.
Willow was already tending to Tara, gently moving her hair from around the area where her head had collided with the doorframe. "Tara, baby – can you hear me?"
"Shouldn't we try to help Buffy somehow?"
Willow looked at Dawn for a moment, shaking her head. "She's doing her job Dawn. It's my fault – I shouldn't have shut her down while that thing was still loose. When Xander gets here – we can get Tara out of the house – we need to get her to a hospital."
"I could call 911?"
Willow shook her head again. "We'd just be putting them in danger."
Unable to just wait there with the battle raging above them, Dawn rushed into the living room through the side-door, stopping only to prise open the chest of weapons behind the nearest armchair. Just then, she heard a cacophonous racket booming from the stairs. Dawn pulled the nearest sword from the box, grabbing the hilt with both hands
Her heart seemed to stop for a moment as the Mm'fashnik demon stumbled into the room, seemingly pushing itself to its feet after a fall. Dark, green blood was dripping from its shoulder and cheek, and the snarl it unleashed as it saw Dawn was as much hungry as it was furious.
Dawn held the sword out in front of her, begging herself to be brave. As the creature began to limp towards her with clawed hands outstretched, she raised the sword above her head, letting out an involuntary sob as the monster bore down on her, her death in its eyes.
Then, with a sharp crack, the Mm'fashnik fell to the floor, landing only inches from Dawn's feet. Behind the demon, Buffy was revealed, her favourite patrolling outfit grievously torn, and her hair entirely awry. In her hands was the designer lamp from beside the couch. Dawn dropped the sword, backing away as the dam of stress and fear was released. Buffy grabbed the sword from the ground, quickly raising it and thrusting with a downwards strike into the demon's back. The enormous form twitched for a moment, finally ceasing when Buffy twisted the blade, leaving it protruding from his back like a burial cross.
Dawn ran to her sister, wrapping her arms around her and holding on to her as if for dear life as she finally allowed herself to cry.
Buffy lifted one arm in a single, stiff movement, before carefully moving her hand to hold the back of Dawn's head, holding her sister as she gently wept against Buffy's chest.
"I think we have a lot to feel good about." Warren announced, strutting triumphantly around his newly furnished domain.
Andrew was currently gazing into a periscope which appeared to have come straight from a Soviet submarine, whilst Jonathan was delicately arranging some models of various shapes and sizes in a brand-new display case.
"We got the money," Warren continued, "We got the lair. And our one loose end has been taken care of…" He paused dramatically to lift an enormous, seemingly home-made firearm from the floor, "By the Slayer."
A jet of turbulent flame burst out of the tip, neatly emphasising his point and nearly singeing the carpet. "Flamethrower's up."
"Periscope's working," Andrew announced, turning the metal shaft around, which moved the image on the large television screen behind him. At the same moment, Jonathan respectfully closed the display case.
"It looks like your mom's weeding tulips again," Andrew continued to report.
"Action figures - Fully deployed," Jonathan proclaimed, a sense of badass pride on his face.
"I still can't believe it," Andrew said, leaving the periscope and taking a seat on a luxurious armchair. "We did it! We can do anything. We could stay up all night if we wanna!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa don't get all crazy on us, Andrew." Warren snarked, raising his arms sarcastically.
"I was only saying…" Andrew pouted, somehow oblivious to his friend's dripping sarcasm.
Jonathan's expression was touched with uncertainty. "What are we gonna do about Buffy? You know sooner or later, the Slayer's gotta come after us."
"Bring her on…" Andrew replied brazenly.
"We could, uh, we could hypnotize her," Warren suggested.
"Make her our willing sex bunny…" Andrew added.
At that, all three started to chortle adolescently.
"I'm putting that on the list!" Jonathan informed them, rushing over to the whiteboard and beginning to scrawl the words 'hypnotize Buffy' above every other item on the list.
Andrew looked over to Warren sat beside him, a look of utter contentment on his face.
"Is this the life, or what?"
Chapter 9: Picking up the Pieces
Notes:
Thank you to those who have continued to leave kudos on this work, its honestly so encouraging to see!
Chapter Text
Xander examined the fractured remnants of the Summers' back door, hope fading as he examined whether there was any chance at saving it.
"So?" Willow asked, shouting from the living room. "How's it looking back there?"
Xander let the broken pieces drop, holding his arms up in surrender. "Not good Wil. Door's busted too."
"Alrighty… I'll put it on the list!" Willow replied with bubbly, if slightly inappropriate enthusiasm. Xander knew his best friend well enough to know that her demeanour was just an attempt to deflect the worry underneath. Leaving the mess of broken wood for the moment, Xander crossed into the living room, lowering himself slowly onto the couch beside Willow. She was sat with her injured leg stretched out onto a footrest in front of her, a pen and notebook in hand. He closed his eyes and let his slightly aching arms finally relax.
With Tara in hospital overnight for observation, Dawn at school, and Anya vigilantly bullying customers into spending money at the Magic Box, Xander was left to execute operation clean-up at the Summers' house. He was fortunate at least that the 'family emergency' card still seemed to hold weight in the construction trade.
He was only allowed to wallow for a handful of seconds however, before his thoughts were promptly interrupted.
"How long now?" Willow asked impatiently.
Xander opened one eye, glancing down at his watch with a good-natured smile. Eleven-seventeen AM. Nearly the end of a particularly long morning.
"Three hours and forty-three minutes Wil. Twenty minutes since the last time you asked…"
"I know, I know – I'm being all… bother-y lady," Willow admitted. "But it's-"
"I know Wil," Xander reassured her. "If it was you, or Anya or Buf-"
Xander paused for a moment, feeling emotions he had tried to keep buried rising to the surface. "I get it Wil. But Tara will be home soon enough. You've just gotta be patient for a little longer."
Willow nodded with a smile, though her eyes fixed on Xander thoughtfully.
"Are you doin' okay?"
Xander blinked, unprepared to have the conversation turned on his head. "I'm fine Wil, just a little tired from all the macho-lifting I've been doing for my favourite damsels in distress…"
Xander grinned, though Willow didn't buy it, refusing to even crack a smile. "That's not what I meant Xander."
"Then what?" Xander asked innocently, letting out a chuckle. After a few moments of looking at Willow however, his jovial demeanour began to fade, and Xander was quiet.
"It's still pretty hard to believe she's gone," he admitted finally. "Even after it happened, as soon as you and Tara said you thought we could bring her back... it just clicked in my head. It was gonna be okay. Buffy was gonna be okay. All those times she saved my life, our lives – the world. Just thought I could give her that much."
Willow nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Xander could feel the same tingling in his own.
"I know.. Xander… I'm so sorry I couldn't…"
Xander put a hand on Willow's shoulder, before pulling her into a gentle embrace. "You did more than the rest of us ever could. I just miss her so much Wil."
Willow planted her chin on Xander's shoulder. "Me too."
They both stayed like that for a few moments, neither feeling the need to speak.
"It's just hard, yknow?" Xander said eventually, extricating himself slightly from the embrace. "Seeing things like this happen to you and Tara, knowing there's nothing I can do."
"I wouldn't call what you're doing nothing Xander," Willow pointed out.
"You know what I mean. This place is a demon magnet Wil. Trust me, I know what that's like. And this time there isn't a slayer waiting to kick them out on their asses on the other side of the door. What happens next time?"
"There won't be a next time," Willow assured him. "I've already started looking into some extra protective charms for the house, and I won't make the mistakes of tucking Buffybot in for her power nap while there are feral rage monsters on the loose..."
Xander couldn't help but smile at that.
"We were always gonna make mistakes Xander," Willow insisted, taking his hand in hers. "Remember how long it took for us to get patrolling to work?"
"Who could forget," Xander replied with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye. "There were times when I looked at Spike and I swear I could see this look in his eyes, like he was weighing up whether trying to kill us might be worth it after all."
"I think I remember Giles having the same idea..." Willow added comically. "But we got it right in the end, didn't we?"
"Yeah," Xander acknowledged, feeling a wave of gratitude for having Willow in his life. "Yeah I guess we did."
"So, how long now?"
Xander couldn't help but laugh.
Tara blinked her eyes open, recoiling slightly from the sunlight shining through the blinds and into the room. The unfamiliar room. She was on a raised, slender bed at its centre. To her right, a large window took up almost the entirety of the wall length, to her left there was an open door. Through it, Tara could see it appeared to open out onto a wide corridor.
"Ah," a female voice sounded, alongside the clicking of hard shoes coming into the room. "You're awake. Good morning Miss Maclay."
"Where…" Tara said sleepily, trying to recall her most recent memories. They seemed hazy somehow, all blurred in her mind.
"You're in one of the inpatient wards in Sunnydale General. Don't worry, everything's alright. How are you feeling?"
"My head," Tara responded. "It's a little fuzzy. And the light, it's…"
Before Tara could so much as reach the end of her sentence, the nurse crossed the room and precisely adjusted the blinds. The sharp daggers of light no longer bore into her eyes, and Tara felt her body relax in relief.
"Better?" The Nurse inquired, and Tara nodded, rather regretting it after it worsened a certain continuous dull sensation in the back of her head.
After a few moments it began to fade, and Tara tried playing back the images in her head again. The scoobies were doing research at the magic box. They had said goodbye to Xander and Anya, walked home with Dawn and then…
The Mm'fashnik.
Tara had seen it about to burst through the back door, she had called for Willow and then… darkness.
"Now, it's perfectly alright if you'd like some time by yourself to recover." The nurse explained kindly. "However, I believe your… girlfriend?" She queried, before Tara nodded. "Would like to see you when you feel up to it. Apparently, the poor thing has been sat awake in the nearest waiting room all night."
Oh Willow… Tara thought, both touched by her dedication and wishing she hadn't put herself through something like that on her behalf.
"It's alright," Tara informed her patiently. "I think I'd like to see her now. Let her know I'm okay."
"That might be a good idea," The nurse concurred with a small smile. "According to my colleagues, she's been asking about you almost constantly."
Tara watched as the nurse left the room, the clacking of her shoes on the hard hospital floor getting further and further away. She could make out words being spoken, though distantly. "Yes, she's awake. Yes, she wants to see you."
Tara smiled, in part from anticipation, and partly wanting to give the most positive impression she could. The last thing she wanted was Willow to worry more than she doubtlessly already was. Tara was just about to greet her partner when an unexpected flash of golden hair appeared in the doorway.
Buffybot rushed into the room with her usual innocent grin, clasping an excessively large bouquet of red, blue and golden flowers in both hands. Before Tara could properly react, Buffy practically dropped them into Tara's lap. Without a moment's hesitation, the robot grabbed one of the small plastic chairs from its position by the wall, and pulled it closed to the bed, taking a seat.
"Buffy?" Tara asked as Buffy sat down, unable to hide her surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"You were damaged!" Buffy blurted out. "I wanted to be here when they fixed you."
The nurse raised an eyebrow at Buffy's choice of words, a bewildered smile appearing on her face. "I'll... leave you two alone. Just press the button beside you if you need anything."
Tara nodded, giving her best attempt at a reassuring smile as the Nurse backed out of the door, closing it behind her.
"You brought me flowers?" Tara asked sheepishly, as she examined the bouquet.
"Yes." Buffy explained, clearly very pleased with herself. "Flowers make people happy. I saw you and Willow give each other flowers, and you seemed to enjoy them very much!"
Tara smiled kindly at Buffy. It was impossible for her not to find her intentions somewhat hopelessly endearing. "You know... I do. Thank you, Buffy. This was very thoughtful of you. I'll be sure to put these in some water when we get home."
Buffy nodded emphatically. "The nurse said the doctor wanted to speak to you very soon. Then we can go home."
That was good news.
"Though she says I will have to look after you for a few days. I am looking forward to it. I can make breakfast!"
Oh. Oh my.
"I wouldn't worry about that too much..." Tara suggested gently. "I'm sure Willow and Dawn can keep on top of it..."
"Are you sure? She was very specific."
"Buffy, I think she meant that..." Tara paused, seeing the naïve wide eyes looking back at her. Maybe giving her a little responsibility wouldn't hurt. "You know what? Breakfast sounds nice. With... some supervision."
The Scoobies sat around the dinner table, basking in the warmth of evening light and conversation. The mark left on the house by its recent invader had all but been washed away in most places. Xander had even manage to save the original table in question, one of a number of small victories he tried to celebrate amidst the disasters.
"You let Buffybot cook?" Xander asked Willow in slight disbelief. "Buffybot? The robot Buffy..."
Dawn frowned slightly at Xander. "What's so wrong with that?"
"Oh nothing much..." Xander replied with a wave. "Though our Buffybot is big with the whole big demon smackdown – not so much with the fine motor skills and gentle tender touch."
"She gets there in the end," Willow informed him with a small smile. "Just needs someone to really drive the message home."
Xander twitched his eyebrows knowingly. "Anyway Wil – how'd it go with the warding re-"
Xander was interrupted as Buffybot promptly entered from the kitchen. Between two oversized oven gloves she carried a large Pyrex roasting dish, full to bursting with the fruit of a few hours' labour.
"Whatcha got there Buff?" Xander asked with clear enthusiasm, his cynicism apparently erased by the promising aroma of food.
"Dinner!" Buffy happily proclaimed, plopping the dish onto the table with a little more force than necessary. "I made it. It is called 'lasagne'."
She smiled at each of the five scoobies at the table, rotating her head from one to the other in several, stiff movements, practically swelling with pride before vanishing back into the kitchen. Dawn rose from her chair, moving to follow her with a sheepish expression.
"We dug up one of Joyce's old cookbooks," Willow explained softly. "It seemed a fairly straightforward place to start."
"You could have started her out on the toaster..." Anya suggested dryly, curling a lock of her pale blonde hair around her finger and sipping gingerly at her glass of wine.
In the meantime, Xander was sure to cast an appraising eye at the food in front of him, eyeing the lasagne carefully. Well, it wasn't black. That was a good start. It was still inside the container, so that too was a bonus. Lots of it too – always good news. Buffybot had gone a little heavy on the cheese – but that wasn't exactly a crime, not by his standards anyway. It certainly smelled edible.
Within a few moments, Dawn was spreading bowls out at the table, and Buffybot held a ladle threateningly over the mass of cheesy goodness.
Xander could not help but feel a slight pang as Buffy first reached for Tara's bowl, his eyes widening in a combination of delight and surprise at the enormous portion Buffy scooped from the dish. Willow shot him a slightly resigned smile, and Dawn had a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
"Say, think you've given her enough there Buff?" Xander jested.
Buffybot clearly didn't pick up on his sarcasm. Instead, a look of worry crossed her face, reaching for Tara's bowl once again before she stopped her with a hand on Buffy's wrist.
"Umm, that's fine Buffy. Xander's teasing you."
"Oh," Buffy acknowledged, letting out a rather canned laugh before retracting her hand and proceeding to fill the next bowl. Dawn's bowl. Xander could feel his stomach complaining, every moment worse than the last. His eagle eye couldn't help but note Dawn's portion was a little less than what Buffybot had given Tara, so he hoped it wouldn't be a continuing trend.
After an eternity of less than a minute, Xander finally received his bowl. It wasn't quite Tara's mountain, but it was still what he would term a respectable, manly portion.
Without pause, Xander lifted his cutlery, expertly quartered a likely mouthful, and thrust it into his mouth without hesitation.
"Mmm." He moaned, finding his eyes closing on their own. When Xander opened them again, he saw Buffybot standing in the corner nearest the kitchen, carefully watching each of the scoobies as they ate, anticipation clear on her face. When her gaze fell on him, Xander smiled. "You did good Buff. Italy-tastic."
Her delight was about as subtle as an angry Fyarl demon.
"You know, she may as well sit down…" Anya remarked, nonchalantly picking at her food. "It's a little disconcerting having her stand there like that."
Perhaps instinctually by this point, Buffybot looked to Willow for approval.
Willow waved out a nonchalant arm. "Sure Buffy, go ahead."
On the opposite side of the table, Dawn pulled out the chair beside her, motioning for Buffy to sit.
A strange look crossed the robot's face, before walking towards the chair and carefully sitting herself down.
"You want some?" Dawn asked, gesturing towards the ladle still hanging in the dish. "Can you eat?"
Buffy opened her mouth automatically in response, but paused. Instead, she turned to Willow with a frown and a question on her lips.
"Nuh uh," Willow answered the robot, before turning to address Dawn. "She can handle liquids – but thick pasta is a big no-no."
"There's a few things we need to talk about," Willow addressed the Scoobies, changing the subject. "Anya, you remember what you told us about the money situation?"
"Uh huh," Anya replied. "You've got a couple months before being packed off to the workhouse. Wait, do we still have those?"
"I'm pretty sure we never had those," Xander pointed out.
"It's... that bad?" Dawn asked quietly, causing the young adults around the table to glance guiltily at one another.
"How come nobody said anything?"
"It's no big, Dawny." Willow tried to assure her. "We're gonna sort it all out."
"We didn't want to worry you Dawn," Tara added. "It really shouldn't be your problem, not on top of everything else."
"You don't have to sit here while we talk it over," Willow offered. "You and Buffy can go upstairs if you want?"
"No," Dawn decided, putting on one of her classic 'adult' faces, raising her eyebrows slightly and stiffening her posture. "I want to stay."
Willow looked a little uncomfortable, though Tara smiled, placing a hand for a moment on Dawn's arm.
"Willow and I did a tally this morning," Xander explained, scratching the back of his head. "The house needs a lot of work. Back door is busted, pretty much every wall needs some replastering – the upstairs bannister is toast – and so on. Look, I know a few people, I can try and get you a good price – but it's not looking good. And… I know its not your fault Tara – but ambulance and hospital bills…" Xander spread his hands.
"Maybe we could all try put some money together?" Tara suggested. "Put the money into a joint account for when we need it. It wouldn't be for bills, or groceries or anything. Just… things like this."
"You're suggesting we start a demon pension?" Anya questioned, crossing her arms.
"Well, that's not exactly what I would call it," Tara replied patiently.
"It's not such a bad idea Ann," Xander countered, placing a hand on Anya's shoulder. "This place still attracts trouble a lot more than our place. It's only fair."
Anya pouted. "I don't like it – sharing our hard-earned cash. It's almost like communism..."
Willow rolled her eyes. "Okay then, let's vote. Demon pension – yay or nay? Those in favour..."
Willow and Tara raised their hands in near-perfect unison, and Xander followed close behind. Anya continued to pout for a moment, before Dawn surreptitiously added her hand to the count.
"Not you Dawny," Willow scolded her gently.
"What, I don't have rights now?" Dawn remarked dryly, folding her arms.
"This is America Dawn," Anya shot back haughtily, placing another forkful of lasagne into her mouth. "You have to pay for your rights like everybody else."
With a roll of her eyes, Dawn lowered her arm, before looking over to her robotic sister and pulling hers down too.
All eyes were on Anya as she pouted.
It was Tara who finally offered her an olive branch. "You could manage the account – you know, if you wanted?"
Anya seemed to consider this for a moment, before tentatively raising her arm. "Eugh, fine. But there's still a problem with all this."
"Please, enlighten us…" Xander replied with false grandiosity.
Anya leaned forward, looking past Xander until she was facing Willow. "You and Tara don't make any money. You spend money that isn't yours so you can go to class all day. It's stupid."
Xander could only bite his tongue as Anya continued to deftly slice through the conversation with characteristic empathy.
"Tara and I have talked it over," Willow replied, gesturing to her girlfriend for a moment. "We don't exactly have a lot of time left between classes and scooby stuff... but there's another option."
Xander took a quick gulp of water. "What's that Wil?"
"We... try to get Buffybot a job."
There was silence for a moment, before Xander burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Wait, you're serious?"
"Think about it," Willow implored. "Before we just shut her down any time we weren't patrolling or bringing her out somewhere for Dawn. Kind of a waste, don't ya think? Her battery can last a couple days – if we really need it."
"And it would look good for Dawn," Tara added. "Buffy was pretty young as it was to be Dawn's guardian – and it would look better if she was employed, if anyone came to check on her."
"Alright," Xander conceded. "There's a couple of plusses. But where do you intend to start?"
Xander looked to Tara and Willow for an answer, but none was forthcoming. Xander gulped with growing horror as they both held his gaze expectantly.
Xander lifted his hands from the table. "Wait a minute..."
"C'mon Xander..." Willow asked, putting on one of her irresistibly adorable pouts.
"Hey, I said wait a minute! Look, I've got a few connections at the site. I could probably pull some strings – but I don't think you get it."
"How do you mean?" Dawn asked. "Sounds perfect."
Xander pointed at Dawn. "You'd think so, but what happens if something goes wrong? Horribly, horribly wrong? Suddenly that's all on the Xan-man – and I can kiss any chance at a promotion, and any future favours goodbye."
"It's a fair point," Anya added. "What if she can't actually handle a job? She's not that little trash can from Star Wars. She's a sex robot. Well, actually I guess she could…"
"Anya!" Xander cut her off, seeing Dawn's eyes widen and her cheeks start to turn red.
"Absolutely not," Tara added firmly.
"It was just a suggestion…" Anya deflected with a twirl of her fork.
"A bad one," Willow retorted, shooting Dawn a concerned look.
Dawn kept her eyes cast downwards for a few seconds, before getting to her feet. She stood up, taking Buffybot by the hand. "Buffy, would you come with me a sec?"
Xander watched as Dawn led the robot out of the room and up the stairs. None of the remaining scoobies said anything, just watched the fifteen-year-old walk away with silent sympathy.
Dawn ran a hand through Buffy's golden hair as they sat together, the younger girl gently placing a lock between finger and thumb beside her sister's temple, running it down to the slightly curved ends.
As she did so, Dawn felt a flurry of impossible emotions stirring in her chest. As she looked at the perfect replica of Buffy's face, she saw countless memories which stretched back a lifetime. Except they didn't. Dawn had only existed as the girl she was now for little over a year. That sickening, horrifying knowledge had nearly torn her apart, knowing her entire life was a meticulously constructed lie. Her sister had brought her back from the brink, telling her she had Summers' blood in her veins – that the monks had made Dawn out of her. But not this Buffy. Her mother was gone, her big sister was gone, and now all she had was her surrogate family, and a robot that hadn't even been around as long as she had.
"Why are you doing that?" Buffy asked.
Dawn stopped her hand in mid-air. "Oh... Does it bother you?"
"No," Buffy stated plainly. "I just wanted to understand."
Dawn cast her eyes downwards for a moment, a sad smile touching her lips. "Buffy – I mean, the other Buffy, she used to do that sometimes. When we weren't fighting, or screaming at each other."
A perplexed look appeared on Buffy's face. "Why would you fight? You and the other Buffy were sisters."
"Yeah, and sisters argue – a lot."
Buffy looked at Dawn uncomprehendingly. "I don't understand. Why would you want to hurt each other? Sister's love each other. It's a rule."
"We didn't mean it like that," Dawn explained. "Most of the time. But sometimes, I think part of loving someone is knowing you can hurt them more easily than anyone else."
Buffy seemed to think it over. "That is most confusing."
Dawn took a breath. "Life usually is Buffy."
Yet now the real Buffy was gone, it wasn't the fights, the arguments, or even the cold war of clothing thefts that sprang to mind whenever Dawn thought of her sister. It was the quiet, intimate moments. Moments when neither of them had to hide their feelings with words, but could convey what they really felt in a simple glance, or the smallest of gestures.
Dawn felt a pair of fingers running through her hair.
She looked up in surprise to see Buffybot smiling at her, and all of a sudden the claws of melancholy no longer seemed to clench her quite so tightly in its grasp. Dawn moved further onto the bed, curling her legs up behind her and leaning against Buffy's shoulder.
"Did Anya upset you earlier?" Buffy asked after a few moments had passed. "You didn't finish your lasagne."
"A little," Dawn admitted. "What she was saying... it wasn't appropriate."
"What wasn't?"
Dawn sat up. "Pimping out my sister to make money. It's... disrespectful."
Buffy smiled briefly at the word 'sister', before her pensive expression returned.
"Does that mean sex is wrong?"
"Well..." Dawn started, not really prepared for where this conversation was heading. "Not always. If you love someone – then it's okay. As long as you want to. Umm... I really think maybe you should ask someone else about that."
Dawn's head turned towards the door as she heard a muffled knocking.
"Dawn?" A gentle voice called out from the other side of the door.
"Come in," Dawn invited, and before long Tara appeared behind the door, opening it just enough so that she could slip inside and close the door behind her.
"Xander and Anya have headed home," Tara explained, twiddling her fingers in front of her. "I just wanted to see if everything was alright?"
Dawn looked at Buffy for a moment, forcing herself to smile.
"Yeah." She replied in a slightly hollow voice. "We're okay."
Chapter 10: Puppet
Chapter Text
The construction site was vibrant with activity. As Buffy walked alongside Xander, she was bombarded with a great number of new sights and sounds she had never experienced before. The creaking of great steel beams as they swayed from thick cables echoed from high above her, accompanied by the thundering ringing of drills, generators and other electric equipment as well as the shouts of working men barking instructions to one another across the layers of scaffolding, which towered into the pale blue sky.
"Okay Buffy, time to put this on." Xander instructed her, holding out a bright yellow plastic helmet.
"Why must I do that?" Buffy asked curiously.
"Health and safety Buff," Xander explained. "Every guy on site has to wear one of these."
"But I am a girl," Buffy pointed out helpfully.
"Even so," Xander insisted with an emphatic hand gesture, before Buffy finally took the helmet in her hands.
Buffy lifted the hard hat over her head, taking a moment to fiddle ineffectively with the chin strap before Xander interceded.
"Here," Xander offered, a half-smile on his face as he placed his hands under Buffy's chin and tightened the strap in a single, smooth movement. "It just takes the special touch."
Xander stood back for a moment, examining Buffy as if she were one of the tables he had repaired two days previously. "Well, you've got the hard hat, the utility belt, a set of particularly flattering tools on you... the bright pink top might be a bit much, but other than that - I'd say you're ready to go."
"Yes," Buffy agreed with a grin. "I think so too."
Buffy immediately started to stride away, moving confidently towards the unfinished building, however within a few seconds Xander caught up with her, practically leaping in front of her and holding out his hands for her to stop.
"Woah, hang on there Buff," Xander said. "I've gotta introduce you to Tony first."
Buffy was confused. She was here to earn money – not meet Xander's friends.
"I don't understand," Buffy said, cocking her head to one side thoughtfully.
"Tony's supervising this part of the project," Xander explained. "He's responsible for all equipment and personnel that come on site. C'mon, I'll introduce you."
Buffy followed Xander as he walked across the dry, dusty earth which covered the site, approaching a table where three men appeared to be peering over a set of blueprints.
"Hey Tony!" Xander called out jovially.
A pale, dark-haired man turned from the table. He peered at Xander from narrow green eyes, which merely squinted further once he noticed Buffy. When Tony said nothing, Xander moved quickly to fill in the gap.
"This is Buffy – you know, that friend I told you about."
"Hello," Buffy greeted him with a wide grin, holding out her hand in greeting. To her surprise however, Tony made no move to take it. She wondered if her polite greetings protocols were incorrect – but they had never failed her in this way before.
Instead, the supervisor merely looked at Xander, contempt written so plainly on his face that Buffy's empathic programming was left in no doubt about his feelings.
"You kidding me Harris?" Tony finally spat, crossing his arms as he spoke. "We're weeks behind as it is – now you want me to babysit some little girl?"
"I do not require a babysitter." Buffy explained helpfully. "I am twenty years old!"
Tony never moved his eyes from Xander.
"Give her a chance," Xander implored him. "Trust me, she's stronger than she looks. Eager too!"
Buffy grinned at that. After all, she was very excited to start helping the people she was sure would be her new friends. Tony however just gave her a sceptical glare, drumming his fingers against the surface of the table, before turning back to his colleagues.
"Good luck Buff," Xander said from behind a tight grin, giving Buffy a friendly nudge before he began to move off towards the building. "I'll be back to check on you later!"
Buffy felt something as she watched Xander walk away. It was so rare for her to be cut adrift in this manner. At almost every other occasion, Willow, Tara or Dawn was almost always with her, whether she was preparing a meal for her friends, or accompanying Dawn to a school event. They would tell her what to say, what to do, they knew best. It was only very recently that Buffy had been given much opportunity to think about anything, and it made her feel uncertain.
After barking a series of orders at the men around him, Tony finally turned to address her.
"Alright princess – since we're stuck with you… why don't you start hauling some of that steel? If you can, that is. Without hurting yourself, or breaking a nail…."
Tony smiled as he spoke, but Buffy did not trust her base programming. There was a cruelty in that smile. Buffy had seen it before – in Razor's face when he struck her, when he threatened her. Behind him, she could see a few workmen chuckling. Either she had unintentionally let slip a particularly humorous remark, or there was something more going on.
Buffy crossed to the pile of red steel beams, bending her knees to grab one in each hand, before turning to face the men again.
"Where am I going please?" Buffy asked politely, as Tony stared at her with his mouth hanging open. One of the other workers pointed towards the building, and with a quick thank you, Buffy merrily tramped towards the entrance.
Buffy was pleasantly surprised by the good manners the workmen seemed to have as she wound her way up the various floors. They all bolted out the way of her when they saw her coming, she didn't even have to ask them! On the other hand, she couldn't help but notice that they did look a little startled as she approached, which perplexed Buffy slightly.
But then again, she was very pretty.
Warren stared intently through his stealth-binoculars, peeking surreptitiously at the building site through the window of the Trio's enormous, yet naturally - entirely anonymous - black van.
His lips curled upwards into a smile when he saw the familiar flash of blonde hair walking across the construction site.
"It's go-time," Warren informed his two 'partners', lowering the binoculars and turning to face them with an expression of cool confidence. "Prepare – to be amazed!"
At that, Warren pulled up his grey hood, before placing the yellow hard hat purposefully on his head.
Andrew and Jonathan looked at each other with uncertainty.
"Umm… remind us exactly what you want us to do?" Andrew asked, twiddling his thumbs as he sat at his station, a panel covered in blinking red lights and countless individual switches.
Warren rolled his eyes. "I place the inhibitor on the Slayer – I radio you goons to activate the omega pulse sequence, I retreat to a safe distance – then we watch the show!"
"How do you plan to get that thing on Buffy without her noticing?" Jonathan asked. "She's got like – ninja reflexes…"
Jonathan demonstrated this with a few choice waves of his hand, straightened in a karate pose.
Warren dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand, a flicker of annoyance passing over his face. "Leave that to me, whine-athan. And don't… don't call her that."
"What, Buffy?" Jonathan questioned.
"Yes Buffy!" Warren snapped. "She's our nemesis dude! The enemy! Why do you think we called ourselves the Trio?"
Andrew glanced around the van nervously. "Because there are three of us?"
"Because it's cool!" Warren blurted. "We're evil geniuses dude! We need to be taken seriously - we can't rule over Sunnydale by yelling 'bow before Andrew' or 'tremble at the mighty Jonathan'."
"I guess..." Andrew conceded.
Warren couldn't help but notice the small smirk that overtook Jonathan's face for a moment, before his deferent expression returned, and he nodded in agreement.
Satisfied he had the situation under control, Warren opened the van door, dropping himself onto the pavement before turning back to face them.
"Now that's behind us – sit tight. I'll be back soon."
The other construction workers eventually seemed to get used to Buffy as she walked up and down the building site. One after another, she continued to carry set after set of steel beams to one of the upper floors, following the directions of her exciting new colleagues.
As Buffy lowered the latest pair of steel beams onto the growing pile she had constructed, she caught sight of a burly, ebony skinned workman shaking his head at her.
"Have I done something wrong?" Buffy asked with concern.
"We're paid by the hour new girl," the man said, crossing his arms. "Do me a favour – try not to ruin it for the rest of us?"
At that, the man walked away, leaving Buffy standing there with knotted brow.
That was an unusual reaction, Buffy thought. She ran his response through her social programming for a moment. Maybe… maybe there was such a thing as being too helpful. If Buffy helped too much – then everyone else would be able to help less, which made them feel bad.
Yes, that must be it.
"Hey there Buff," Xander called out as he approached from behind a plastic sheet, his usual cheeky grin on his face. "I hear from Tony you're doing a bang-up job!"
"I did not know that." Buffy said, her thoughtful expression vanishing in favour of a broad, serene smile. "But yes – I am very good at this."
Xander chuckled, reaching his hand back to scratch the back of his head. "Well actually he just sorta shrugged and mumbled 'she'll do'… but trust me, from Tony it's basically the same thing."
"I understand," Buffy replied. When she had first come online, she could never understand why anyone would say anything other than what they felt. Since then, however, she had learned that people were a little more confusing.
"C'mon," Xander said, inviting her to follow with a wave of his hand. "Think I've got another job with your name on it."
Buffy immediately moved to follow her friend as he walked through the forest of wondrous materials and equipment that surrounded them. Before she could follow Xander out of her current section however, Buffy found herself reaching for the nearest support beam as something heavy slammed into her with no warning.
Buffy's slaying program kicked in immediately, swivelling around to face her attacker with raised fists. However, before she could properly analyse the situation, the male figure who appeared to bump into her had already passed her, not even seeming to acknowledge what he'd done before vanishing around a corner. He didn't look like a demon – though under the grey-hooded top he wore it was difficult to tell.
"What's up Buff?" Xander asked from behind, causing Buffy to turn around to face him.
"Someone knocked into me," she replied, furrowing her brow thoughtfully. "I could not see his face."
Xander nodded, pursing his lips and looking past Buffy for a moment. "I wouldn't worry about it. Some of these guys, they like to throw their weight around – especially when it comes to newbies."
"Should I do the same?" Buffy asked, wondering if it was their version of a greeting.
"That would be a bad idea," Xander advised. "Don't worry about it – keep doing what you're doing, and even the worst jackasses will get used to you soon enough."
"That is good," Buffy decided. "Otherwise, I might end up slaying them by mistake."
Xander attempted to restrain a laugh, before beckoning her to follow him once again. "Come on."
Once again, Buffy jovially fell into step behind Xander, yet within a few moments, she knew something was wrong. At first, it just seemed as though Xander was walking at an unusually fast pace, but then within the span of a second he vanished from sight entirely. Buffy tried to move to catch up, but found herself knocked aside once again before she could react, this time tumbling over a toolbox into the nearest corner. When Buffy looked up again, she saw that every worker on the site was now moving like Xander, flickering rapidly across the floor as if they were characters in one of Dawn's VCRs, fast forwarding past the parts she found boring.
Something was very wrong. Perhaps her initial knock had done more damage than Buffy had first realised, but either way – Willow wasn't here to run a diagnostic.
Buffy reached for the nearest support beam, pulling herself carefully to her feet. She hesitated before emerging from the corner, trying to time her movements so she could follow after Xander without ending up headfirst on the floor again.
If she could even recognise Xander. The construction workers were now little more than blurs to her ocular components, moving from one position to another, hovering like bees above their workstations, before buzzing on to the next task which seemed to complete itself instantly.
Beginning one of Giles' breathing exercises to focus herself, Buffy hurried out of the section. She had got barely ten metres however before one of the blurry figures materialised in front of her, seemingly out of air. Buffy stopped dead.
"What you doing new girl?" Tony sneered at her. "You lost or something?"
"I'm trying to find Xander," Buffy explained earnestly, still trying to clear the disorientation from her processor. "He has a job for me."
Tony's facial expression didn't change – as if he hadn't even processed the information.
"Forget Harris," he said finally. "I need a steady pair of hands up top, someone with their head on straight. Think you can handle that blondie?"
Something in the way Tony spoke reminded her more of a demon's challenge, than a genuine question.
"I can do that," Buffy accepted. She didn't want to leave Xander – but he had carefully explained to her that Tony was in charge, so she was sure Xander wouldn't be too upset – and he would find her if he really needed her.
So, Buffy followed Tony as he walked and weaved through the mass of workmen, still attempting to understand what had happened moments before. It didn't seem to be a mere malfunction. With the lack of any other clear explanations, she concluded it must have been some sort of spell. It affected Xander too – and everyone around her.
But before she could really try to understand the connotations of such a spell, the strange enchantment began all over again. Tony sped away up the nearest ramp, flickering until he became nothing more than a smudge on the floor above. Then she was being knocked to the floor all over again, things she could not process were slamming into her. Eventually, she managed to crawl across the floor into an alcove she thought out of the way, and waited, trying to take up as little room as possible. The images around her seemed to rush faster and faster, until everything Buffy could see seemed to be a single chaotic blur.
"Buffy!" Xander exclaimed, as everything seemed to suddenly snap back to regular parameters. His face seemed both angry and relieved simultaneously as he stared down at her. "Where the hell have you been?"
"I was following you," Buffy insisted, pulling herself to her feet looking around at all the other workers who seemed to have returned to normal speed. "But something very strange happened. I…"
"Buffy…" Xander cut her off. "You can't just… vanish for hours in the middle of the job!"
"But I didn't – Xander-"
"I'm sorry," Xander continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "But you're done."
"I don't understand," Buffy replied softly, a deepening frown on her face. "There is nothing more for me to do? I cannot make more money?"
"Just… Just head home to Willow, alright?" Xander replied in a pained voice, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "See if you've knocked a screw loose or something."
With that, Xander vanished into the sea of working men, leaving Buffy alone in the crowd.
"There she is!" Warren exclaimed joyfully, pointing to the slight blonde girl in the bright pink top who was walking towards the edge of the site.
"You think she's going home sick – or do you think they fired her?" Jonathan asked, traces of concern in his voice.
Warren rolled his eyes, fixing Jonathan with a distasteful look. Why was he so determined to step on his triumph? "Who cares?" he scoffed. "Hey – if they did, I think that deserves some extra points."
Warren raised his arm, before pointing forwards towards the windscreen. "And now… we follow."
Warren grabbed the keys and turned them in the ignition, a sneering smile growing on his lips. On his first attempt he had made the slayer powerless. And it was only just beginning.
Chapter 11: Questions and Answers
Chapter Text
Dawn strolled nonchalantly out of the main doors of Sunnydale Junior High, her backpack hanging loosely from one shoulder as she walked with her friends towards the road. She waved farewell to Lisa, Melinda and Janice at the sidewalk – the latter giving her a coy smirk as she walked towards the car where her rather stern looking mother awaited.
As usual, she allowed her mind to drift as she began her walk home, knowing every twist and turn so well by this point that she didn't need to spare a thought for where she was going, besides checking both ways at a road crossing. In a town like Sunnydale, even the most unusual sights could be considered run-of-the-mill.
It was by chance then, when Dawn was approximately half-way back to the Summers' house, that she caught sight of a sight so peculiar that even she took note of it. On the other side of the large street, a young woman was stumbling along the opposite sidewalk. She had a shattered, bright yellow hard hat half-hanging of her head, chaotic golden hair spilling out all over. She wore a bright pink tank top with a single large tear diagonally through it, and the jeans she wore beneath them were similarly torn. One of her calves seemed to be at an odd angle, and she was clearly moving with some difficulty.
Dawn's eyes went wide with horror. "Buffy?!"
The figure halted its staggered gait, lifting its head to look over towards her.
"Dawn!" she cried, confirming Dawn's fears. "I require assistance!"
She immediately ran across the road towards Buffy, a passing car honking loudly at her in the process as it sped by. Dawn didn't care.
"Buffy..." she said breathlessly, struggling to remove the shattered yellow helmet from her head. "What the hell happened to you?!"
"Something is... very wrong," Buffy said, in a tone that Dawn recognised by now as distress, before taking on a slightly puzzled look. "But why are you not in school?"
"School ended almost an hour ago," answered Dawn in puzzlement, brushing the dirt, grass and grit from her top. "Did they do this to you at the construction site? Why did Xander let it happen?"
Buffy shook her head. "Xander wouldn't listen. He sent me away. Dawn – I need Willow!"
As Dawn was brushing away the muck, her eyes caught on a strange speck on Buffy's right shoulder. It seemed oddly out of place when compared with the rest of the dirt, trash and road surface she was covered in. To Dawn's eye, it looked like a little diamond, glimmering in the bright sun. Dawn reached for it, taking it in her hand for a moment. To her surprise, the glimmering speck seemed to disintegrate into a small cloud of residue.
When she looked up at Buffy, she too appeared to be frowning at Dawn's palm, though said nothing.
"Come on," said Dawn, manoeuvring Buffy's right arm around her shoulder to support her injured leg, before starting to move in the direction of the Summers' house. "Let's get you home."
Dawn banged on the door once she and Buffybot had struggled up the drive, grateful that somehow they had managed to get this far without somehow arousing more attention from the general public. A few moments later, Tara opened it, her expression changing from friendly to one of deadly concern in an instant.
"What happened?"
"I'm not sure exactly," Dawn admitted, as she and Buffybot moved through the doorway and through into the living room. "I just found her like this – out on the streets."
"Just set her down," Tara instructed, seemingly having calmed herself. "I'll call Willow at the Magic Box."
With a thump, Dawn and Buffy both fell heavily onto the couch, just as Tara disappeared around the corner. Dawn reached out to move Buffy's hair from her face, and Buffy smiled warmly at her in return.
"So," she sighed. "I take it your first day on the job wasn't a huge success?"
Buffy frowned. "At first – It was going very well. But then..." She trailed off.
"Then what?"
"I do not understand. I was doing what Tony asked me to do, and then... I was following Xander. But then Xander began to move very fast, and I couldn't keep up. And the others. The other workers – I could barely see them, and they knocked into me. Then it stopped, and then it started. It happened again, and again – until Xander became very upset with me, and told me to leave – and find Willow."
"You got fired?"
"I do not know," Buffy answered. "But attempting to cross all of the roads was very difficult."
Dawn was horrified. "You got hit by a car?"
"Two cars," Buffy corrected her in a factual tone.
"I don't understand," Dawn admitted. "Willow is always checking your programming. How could something go this wrong?"
"I... do not think that this was a malfunction," Buffy replied. "Maybe it was a spell? Are there bad witches?"
Dawn blinked. "A spell? You think this is magic?"
Buffy nodded. "Something that is affecting everyone else."
Dawn looked thoughtful for a moment, as an idea took hold. "Or just you. When I was cleaning the dirt off your shirt – I found something strange. Like a little bead."
"I saw! It vanished in your hand."
"Maybe... I don't know – it was some sort of talisman. Or a jewel or... something."
Buffy didn't reply right away this time. Instead, she looked at Dawn with a strange, unreadable expression. "You are not blaming me."
"Why would I?"
"I am the Slayer!" Buffy explained earnestly. "I should not need to be rescued – and I should not upset my friends." Buffy paused for a moment, frowning. "I think the other Buffy would have figured this out. She was very smart."
Dawn couldn't help but feel a pang of recognition. Living in Buffy's shadow was a struggle she knew all too well, and one that had continued even after she was gone. She took Buffy's hand, and squeezed it. In response, Buffy looked at her with a questioning gaze.
"When the Mm'fashnik came – you saved my life. Without you – we'd all probably be dead. You're not always going to do everything that Buffy did. But that's okay! As far as I'm concerned – you're a great Slayer."
Buffybot grinned, before falling against Dawn and enclosing her in a crushing hug. "I am glad you think so. You are my sister!"
"Yep," Dawn wheezed breathlessly, as she wrapped her arms affectionately around Buffy. "So – wanna watch TV until Willow gets back?"
Something wasn't right. Warren was sure of that much.
At first, he had been content to have Jonathan continue to activate the omega pulse as they stealthily tailed Buffy down the Sunnydale streets, watching in glee as she was rendered utterly helpless by his device.
Andrew and Jonathan had tried to ruin it of course. The moment the pulse had been activated while Buffy was crossing a sidewalk, and a car had slammed into her – Jonathan went pale as snow, his hands shaking pathetically.
Warren knew it probably wouldn't kill her. That was all part of his calculations. These games were all about testing the slayers, seeing her strengths, her weaknesses. But something in her behaviour just wasn't right. He knew she was strong – incredibly so in fact – but she was still human. She should still show pain, and fear.
But she didn't. Every time something knocked her down, she would just look as if she were mildly puzzled, and immediately try and push on. There was no panic, no fear – no anger. The Slayer may have been a being out of myth and legend – but she wasn't a Vulcan!
Stranger still, from the look of her the last car had broken her leg below the knee. However, when it had happened, the Slayer didn't so much as cry out in pain – she just clumsily forced herself up and continued to move on, as if major physical trauma was nothing more than an awkward inconvenience. Even her mannerisms seemed wrong somehow, stiff.
"Does this seem right to you?" Warren asked in frustration, as he pulled the van in on the opposite side of the road from the Slayer's house, turning to Andrew on the seat beside him.
Andrew let out a sigh of utter relief. "No – not at all. This has gone way too far man..."
"Not that!" Warren snapped back. "I meant the Slayer! You guys knew her in high school – did the Slayer seem right to you?"
Jonathan scratched the top of his head. "She... was acting a little odd. I've seen Buffy in action before, she's really powerful, but... she wasn't like that. Man – something must be really wrong with her."
Warren gripped the steering wheel with both hands, trying to ignore the wheedling concern in Jonathan's voice as he made his last observation. "Yeah. Something. I think we proceed on to the next test – as soon as possible. After you score me for my brilliant efforts, of course."
Andrew and Jonathan looked at each other for a moment, before nodding, a little too reluctantly for Warren's liking.
Once Willow had conducted most of the preliminary repairs to Buffybot's damaged leg on the couch, replacing a few components and bandaging the damaged synthetic skin in order to conceal it, she immediately fetched her laptop and began a systems diagnostic. When Dawn and Buffybot had told Willow about the disastrous events of the latter's first day at work, her mind had immediately began to hypothesise.
"I don't think they were all really moving quickly Buffy," Willow explained, before turning to address Tara and Dawn, who were seated in neighbouring armchairs. "What I think happened – is for whatever reason Buffybot experienced several system crashes. Essentially – she blacked out. Then, when she rebooted, her processor suddenly had to deal all the information her ocular components – her eyes – picked up while she was offline, all at once."
"What about that strange diamond thing I found?" Dawn insisted. "The one that disappeared when I tried to get a better look at it?"
"Dawny, you said yourself Buffybot was covered in all sorts from the road... I think it's more likely she just got a bit of glass or something on her top, than... yknow, something altering the flow of time." Willow looked back at the screen. "Hmm – I don't see anything that could have caused her to crash. I'll have to run a full systems-"
But Willow was interrupted as she spotted something on her laptop display. Something that made no sense whatsoever. "Hang on a sec."
Tara frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Buffybot's internal chronometer – her body clock – it's wrong. According to her, it's still early afternoon."
"Wouldn't the blackouts explain that?" Tara suggested.
"No," Willow replied. "It wouldn't. It's like a computer – you don't need to reset the time every time you reboot it. Unless it was manually changed – I have no idea what could have done this."
Willow turned to Buffybot. "You'd better tell us what happened again. From the start – and don't leave anything out."
So Buffybot eagerly began to recount a painfully detailed account of her experiences after arriving at the construction site with Xander that morning. Willow grit her teeth and bore it as Buffybot meandered in exquisitely excessive detail of everything which happened to her, until something useful eventually seemed to jump out of the tale.
"Someone knocked into you?" Willow questioned. "And you didn't see their face?"
"Yes," said Buffybot. "They were wearing a hood under their hat."
"Wait a minute," Dawn interjected. "Buffy, which side did he hit you on?"
Buffy cocked her head to one side thoughtfully for a moment, before answering:
"Right."
Dawn turned back to Willow. "The same side I found that shiny thing!"
"Okay," Willow conceded. "Well... it looks like there might be something else going on here. For now – I think Buffybot should lay low. At least for tonight."
"But I have to patrol!" Buffy pointed out. "There are many vampires who require slaying. Evil must beware!"
"We'll get Spike to cover for you," Willow countered offhandedly. "In fact – it might be easier if you just go back to being offline tomorrow, at least until we figure all this out."
Dawn frowned. "Why can't she just hang around here tomorrow? Why does she have to stay asleep the whole time?
"There's nothing for her to do Dawn," Willow remarked, a little puzzled by the question. "And no-one to keep an eye on her."
"I don't think she'd burn the house down sweetie," Tara suggested calmly. "I don't really see any harm in it, yknow, if it's what she wants?"
Buffy was looking between the three of them as they spoke, a look of naïve concern on her face.
"Is that what you want Buffy?" Willow asked sceptically.
Buffybot looked between Tara and Dawn, who both smiled at her encouragingly. The robot turned to the girl on the couch beside her.
"Yes. I would like that! Can I watch the TV?"
Willow still felt conflicted, not just about letting Buffy remain at home on her own, but also Tara and Dawn seeming to be supporting her in becoming more and more independent.
Despite being responsible for a great deal of her programming, Willow still felt that Buffybot was unpredictable. Like at the bank several days ago, Willow felt that she or Tara had to hold the bot's hand through almost any task that didn't involving staking a vampire. Even making sandwiches wasn't a sure bet.
What if Buffybot did decide it would be a good idea to experiment with Joyce's recipe book again, and then just forgot about the cooker being on? It had been a nice gesture from Tara at the time – but Willow wasn't sure about encouraging Buffybot to do more than they needed from her.
Considering their dire financial situation, Willow had been willing to attempt letting Buffybot try to perform a basic paid job - but now she was far more sceptical of the whole notion. After all these years in Sunnydale, she should have known full well how much attention the Slayer received just by her very existence. Buffy had the wits to deal with the challenges that came with her destiny. Her robotic replacement did not. She probably never would either, no matter how many individual subroutines Willow programmed into her.
Finally, she nodded. "Alright – Buffybot can hang out here tomorrow. But – we need to set some ground rules, okay?"
Buffy nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin of delight rather reminiscent of a six-year-old whose parents had just agreed to buy her a pony.
"Don't answer the phone if it rings," Willow instructed her. "Same with the door – unless its one of us. Oh, and try to stay out of the kitchen until we get back, alright? Now, I'd better reset your body clock ready for tomorrow..."
As soon as Tara activated her the next morning, Buffy practically leapt from her bed like a coiled spring. After changing into one of her favourite dresses and tidying her hair, she quickly made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
Making peanut-butter jelly sandwiches for Dawn's lunch had quickly become one of Buffy's favourite activities. There was a simple satisfaction to lathering the slices of bread, clapping them together before sealing them in a bag with an apple and a bag of chips. She handed them to Dawn as her sister entered the kitchen still in her pyjamas, her long brown hair still messy as it always was this time in the morning. As Dawn sat down to enjoy a bowl of fruit loops, Buffy took the already-prepared brush and began to gently run it through her hair contentedly.
Soon enough however, Dawn left for school, and not long after that Willow and Tara made their preparations to leave as well. Just as Buffy was waving them out the door, Willow stopped, seeming slightly bothered by something, before Tara took her hand and guided her out of the door, wishing Buffy a good day as she did so. Buffy closed the door behind them, and for the first time in a long while; she was truly alone.
At first she merely wandered between the rooms (excepting the kitchen), taking in the different feel of the place. She had never been just left to wander about in the house she knew as her family home. She wandered into the living room from the entrance hall, once again lifting a picture from the side table. In the picture there was Dawn, the woman Buffy knew should be her mother, and herself. But it wasn't really her. It was the other Buffy – and her biological progenitor.
Dawn had told her it was alright that she wasn't always like the other Buffy, but that was difficult to comprehend when they shared so much. They shared a face, a body, a name, a destiny, a watcher, friends and sister. She was Buffy – and she wasn't Buffy. It was a most confusing notion. She wondered if Giles could have explained it to her. His lessons had come in useful many times before.
Eventually, Buffy lowered the picture, and began to think over what it really was she wanted to do. Before, she was definitely anticipating a chance to watch TV. Whatever it was Dawn, Tara or Willow watched – Buffy found it fascinating, the little people on the screen and their lives. Buffy was always entranced to see what would happen next, always bombarding those around her with questions about what was happening and why.
But as her eyes still lingered on the pictures in front of her, another desire began to make itself known. Questions she had pondered over for weeks now, queries she felt she had never gotten a proper answer for.
Giles sat at the end of his plain, single bed, staring emptily at the wall in front of him. With some effort, he reached for the still half-packed suitcase beside him, grabbing another set of clothes to armour himself against the day. He went through the motions, the basics of hygiene and personal grooming, then wandered half-heartedly into the kitchen to see to the other essentials. When he was finished, Giles settled himself down into the creaking armchair in his small living room, scooping the book on the nearest coffee table into his arms.
Sometime later, the sudden, harsh whistling of the kettle atop the stove tore through his concentration as he tried to read the same page in the worn book in his lap for the umpteenth time. With a weary sigh, Giles crossed to the kitchen and poured the boiling water into the teapot, giving the brew a quick stir before placing a cotton tea-cosy over the top.
A rustling sound came from the direction of the front door. Dispassionately, Giles followed the sound, gathering up the smattering of letters which his new neighbour had presumably brought up to his apartment. Giles just dropped them atop the already excessive pile of unopened envelopes on a table beside the door.
He knew full well how irresponsible it was.
There was only one letter Giles had opened of late. It lay atop the side table beside his armchair. The letter from Olivia. The choice to finally contact him by post had been a message in itself. Olivia was worried. She was worried why Giles hadn't found himself a job, why he didn't stay in touch – and most of all how despite moving thousands of miles closer, he seemed more distant than ever.
When Giles had left Sunnydale weeks before, he had done so with the full intention of leaving the past behind him. He needed a fresh start, to begin the next stage of his life far from a town that would no longer hold anything for him but pain, and pangs of regret. But every morning, when Giles woke up and knew she was gone – his determination faded into dust. He just couldn't do it. Moving past the moment of Buffy's death; it somehow felt like a betrayal.
He had lost people before of course. Someone of his maturity could hardly have avoided it. Yet this grief was like nothing he had ever felt. When he had been chosen to be the Slayer's watcher, Giles knew what the council were ultimately asking of him. Every Watcher was trained to be prepared to lose their Slayer in the line of duty. It was the way of things; it was blasted tradition after all. The Slayer fell, and the Watcher had to live on, stopping only to record a short obituary before closing the book altogether.
Yet when the council had fired him in 1999, when he had chosen Buffy over Travers and the council – some part of him had believed the cycle could be broken. He had watched Buffy overcome countless seemingly insurmountable obstacles, grow into not only the best Slayer but the best young woman he could have ever hoped for, and somewhere along the way, subconsciously the very concept of losing her had drifted from his mind.
The sudden hollow ringing of the landline brought Giles out of his musings. He rose again from his chair, crossing to the wall by the kitchen where the phone was hooked on the wall. He made sure to try and clear his throat of morning coarseness before he answered.
"Hello?" He asked.
"Hello Giles!" A voice called out to him, one so familiar Giles felt his heart jump in his chest. "May I speak with you?"
"Buffy…" Giles whispered almost reverently, the word catching slightly in throat before his sluggish and hazy mind caught up. "Ah, yes, of course. Buffy, umm, how are you?"
"I am well Giles." The robot replied. As usual, she tactlessly managed to entirely avoid the more subtle cadences of human speech. "Thank you for asking! How are you?"
"Good, yes... yes I'm fine… Look, Buffy – are you quite sure your supposed to be phoning people?"
"No Giles. Willow told me to let the other machine handle it."
"Right, so… if I may ask that is… why exactly are you calling?" Giles asked, entirely puzzled by the situation.
In response, Giles only heard the faint buzz prone to older landlines, and for a moment he believed the call might have disconnected.
"You didn't say goodbye."
The words took him by surprise. If he didn't know better, he'd say there was a trace of real sadness behind them – but that was ridiculous, surely.
"Oh." He eventually responded, blinking rapidly. "Well, I'm sorry about that Buffy – I just preferred to slip out quietly, that's all."
"The others came to see you at the airport. Tara told me."
"Well… they did do that yes. Buffy, wh-"
"They didn't ask me to go with them. Did I do something wrong?"
Giles' bewilderment continued to rise. "No, no I'm sure that's not it," he tried to console her, resting the handset in the crook of his shoulder and taking a moment to polish his glasses, as if to see through the absurdity of the situation. "I'm sure Willow just thought… thought it wasn't necessary."
There was a small pause.
"I understand." Buffy replied finally.
"Do you?" Giles asked, genuinely curious if she did.
"No. But it makes people happy when I say I do! I like making people happy."
Giles desperately tried to salvage a coherent train of thought. "Look, Buffy, is there something else I can do for you, or?"
"When are you coming back?"
Giles scrunched his eyes shut in exasperation, heroically attempting to muster the necessary patience to endure the remainder of this conversation. "Buffy… I came back to England to live – permanently. My place is here now."
"I would like you to come back Giles." Buffy blurted out, managing to catch him off-guard once again.
He let out a small snort in spite of himself. "Umm yes well… that's very kind of you Buffy, but I'm sure you're doing just fine as you are. Willow will take good care of everything – of that I'm quite sure."
"Are you sure?"
Giles was entirely astonished by this point. Buffybot had always been one for blunt, oblivious questions, but seemed equally satisfied with any answer given to them. "Yes – like I said I'm quite sure. Why, shouldn't I be?" He asked with a small, confused chuckle.
"Every Slayer needs her Watcher." Buffy stated simply.
" Splendid," Giles applauded her, gesturing animatedly with his padded hands, his breathing heavy from the exertion. "Now… Try it again… only this time – remember your breathing."
Buffy didn't understand what Giles meant exactly – but complied happily nonetheless. She took in a humongous breath, before blowing the air out with every strike once Giles had raised his pads once again.
" Umm… that's good, but.. think of the breath as Chi. Air as… as a life source."
" I don't require oxygen to live." Buffy informed him helpfully.
" Umm," Anya began, appearing in the doorway to the Magic Box, "maybe you should stick to the standard drill. You know, you don't want her to blow another gasket."
" I'm testing her responses after her injury, Giles explained a little testily. "I see no harm in imparting a little Eastern philosophy…"
" Well… I just think that the concept of chi might be a little, you know, hard for her to grasp." Anya insisted "You know, she's not the descendant of a long line of mystical warriors. She's the descendant of a toaster oven."
Buffy did not find Anya's words pleasing, nor did they correlate with her fundamental programming. She was Buffy – she was the Slayer.
" Yes, well, I appreciate your input, Anya, but I think Buffybot has responded nicely to our sessions."
The warm, approving smile Giles gave her in that moment caused Buffy's face to light up. Her Watcher was happy with her. Proud of her.
" Would you like to test me again?" Buffy asked as Anya returned through the doorway, eager to earn more of Giles' approval.
" No, perhaps we should call it a day. Your... your responses are fine.
Giles pulled the pads from his hands, placing them atop the large pile of crash mats arranged in the corner. He stopped to grab a waiting bottle of water, before turning to face Buffy for a moment, an unfathomable expression on his face.
" Perhaps Anya's right. Perhaps I am trying to teach you as if you were..."
" Human?" Buffy responded almost automatically.
Giles looked at her almost guiltily. "Yes."
" I like your teachings," Buffy assured him. "Every Slayer needs her Watcher."
Giles took another drink, almost seeming to choke on it. "I'm not so sure about that."
Buffy was surprised by that. "What do you mean?"
" Nothing. I just can't help but wonder if she'd have been better off without me."
" I don't think that's true," Buffy insisted. "You were very helpful to her."
It was true, Willow and Xander had given countless indications of Giles' importance. And Buffy was certain of how helpful Giles had been for herself. From the moment she was first activated, Buffy knew she was the Slayer. But it was Giles who had begun to teach her what that actually entailed – beyond what her files recorded. In the past months, several of his insights had been key to her success – and to fulfilling her function.
Giles just gave a harsh chuckle. "Right. Yes, I was a perfect Watcher. I did what any good Watcher would do. Got my Slayer killed in the line of duty."
" Oh, that wasn't your fault!" Buffy assured him.
" Of course not. That's how all Slayer/Watcher relationships end, isn't it?" Giles placed his glasses back on his head. "She's gone. I did my job."
His response confused Buffy. "Then why are you still here?"
Buffy knew what the answer would be – what it should be. She was just waiting for Giles to say it. He was here to train her – to be like the other Buffy. But that answer never came. Instead, he merely looked as if he'd realised something. Something quite different.
Chapter 12: New Factors
Notes:
Thank you to Bluestories for the Kudos! I also notice they have written a Buffybot-focused story of their own (Buffy 2.0), so if folks are interested, be sure to check that out! I'm really glad people are enjoying One Girl in All the World so far. I've been a bit busy of late, but will keep uploading these chapters as regularly as I can. Hope you enjoy, and I'd love to read any comments you might have.
Chapter Text
When Dawn got home from school later that day, she saw with some satisfaction that the house appeared entirely intact. Through the window, she could see that as expected, Buffy was sitting on the couch, hypnotised by the flashing images of the TV screen. She knocked hard on the door, and remembering Willow's instructions to Buffy the previous evening, called out:
"Buffy, it's me."
Sure enough, Dawn quickly heard the sound of stomping feet, and a moment later Buffy wrenched open the door, the usual broad grin on her face.
"Dawn!"
"Hey Buffy," Dawn greeted her casually as she stepped into the house. "Did you have a good time?"
Buffy nodded contentedly. "I did – thank you. How was School?"
Dawn let out a sigh, moving her eyes casually around the hall. "School was... school. It was alright I guess, just... teachers won't get off my back about... dropping grades or whatever."
With that, she meandered into the Living room, letting her backpack drop to the floor and collapsing dramatically onto the couch.
"Why are your grades dropping?"
Dawn blinked. Buffy hadn't moved from the door. She had merely turned to observe Dawn with a look of concern on her face. She had expected her comment, like so many others, to go straight over Buffybot's head. Perhaps she had picked up a few things at the parent-teacher day after all.
"Oh," Dawn replied, while she furiously thought of something to say. "It's just... everything's been so busy, with the town nearly being destroyed, house being attacked. It makes it hard to settle down for quiet study time."
Buffy seemed to consider this. "Do Willow and Tara know?"
"No!" Dawn answered, a little more forcefully than she had intended. "I mean... it's nothing for them to worry about. It'll be fine – it's only like, October. There's plenty of time to catch up. Don't tell them – please."
Buffy still looked conflicted. "Are you sure? I think they would want to know. They care about you."
"I know they do it's just... can't we just keep this between us? Sisters keep each other's secrets."
As ever, Buffy's eyes lit up slightly at the mention of the word 'sister'.
"Alright!" She agreed happily, coming in to join Dawn and sitting beside her. "But maybe I can help you with your schoolwork! I want you to do well."
Dawn felt profoundly sceptical about that.
"How do you feel about factorising math equations?" Dawn asked half-sarcastically.
"I can do that," Buffy answered instantly with a surprising air of complete confidence.
Dawn's eyebrow shot up. "You... can?"
"Of course!" Buffy answered.
"Alright..." Dawn acquiesced, reaching over to her backpack and pulling out a workbook and a pencil.
"Well look at this," said Dawn, pointing the pencil at an equation which read:
'12y² - 20y + 3'
"I sorta get expanding brackets – but I don't even know where to start with this."
Without a word, Buffy reached out to take Dawn's pencil, before immediately scribbling:
'(2y - 3)(6y - 1)'
"Wow," said Dawn, in a genuinely impressed voice. "You didn't even have to work it out... Hey, do you want to keep helping?"
Buffy nodded emphatically, immediately looking at the next sum and beginning to write the next answer on the page.
"Hang on a sec," Dawn instructed her. "Can you show me how you worked out the first one before we move on?"
Buffy stared at her blankly, furrowing her brow slightly as if Dawn had been speaking another language. "How do you mean?"
"I mean..." Dawn began, pointing at the first question. "How did you get from this..." she moved her pencil to Buffy's answer, "to this."
"They are the same," Buffy answered plainly.
"Yeah, I get that..." Dawn replied. "They mean the same... but I need to know how to work the second one out."
"Oh," Buffy replied, as if she had never considered that possibility. She stared at the workbook for several seconds, before moving to take the pencil again.
Just then, Dawn was distracted as the sounds of voices came from outside, and a moment later she heard a key turning in the door.
"C'mon Anya," Willow pleaded, as she stepped through the front door. "It's Halloween next Wednesday, that's only eight days away! Ever since I started going there, the Magic Box has always had a massive holiday rush around Halloween, you'll need the extra help."
"I can make Xander help," Anya countered flatly as she followed Willow inside. "He's promised me he isn't working on Halloween, and I don't have to pay him anything – not with cash anyway..."
Willow gave Anya a slightly weary look. "Please Anya, after what happened at the construction site – we really need this."
"Aha!" Anya cried, pointing her finger accusatively at Willow as if she was a child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar. "So this isn't about helping me, is it! You just want me to babysit your sex robot! You should be paying me for that, come to think of it."
Dawn felt a twinge of annoyance at Anya as she spoke, and it seemed like Willow's patience was also fraying at the seams. "Anya – you know what situation we're in money-wise. We're not asking for something for nothing, and Buffybot will do whatever you ask, without question. Not even Xander does that!"
Anya looked thoughtful at this idea, though her voice remained wary. "I still don't like it. Alright, fine – but if she breaks anything; you pay for it."
"Deal!" Willow exclaimed, letting out a large breath of relief. "But I'm sure she won't."
At that moment, Willow spotted Dawn and Buffy on the couch. "Oh – hey there. Whatcha doin' there Dawny?"
"Buffy's helping me with my Math homework," Dawn explained. "She's really good at it."
Buffy didn't look up, still apparently immersed in her scribbling.
"Alright," Willow began carefully. "But it's a little bit like just using a calculator, don't you think? Aren't you still supposed to work out some things on your own?"
Dawn frowned at that, her voice becoming defensive. "She's not a calculator – she's teaching me how to factorise equations – aren't you Buffy?"
Buffy looked up. "Yes!"
"Okay then," said Willow, who despite trying to appear upbeat still sounded a little hurt. "Well – if you do need some extra help, I'll just be in the kitchen, okay?"
"Okay," Dawn replied, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden.
When Dawn looked back to her workbook, she saw Buffybot had written an entire page of workings, detailing how she reached the answer.
"Wow, Buffy. You did it." Dawn said in surprise.
Buffy nodded. "I thought it might be more helpful if I made many small sums. Is this acceptable?"
Dawn smiled. "Yeah, it is. Let me try the next one."
There was a crisp breeze in the air as Monday morning arrived, though the sun still shone brightly on the streets of Sunnydale. Buffy strolled beside Willow and Tara as they approached the Magic Box, until they gradually came to a halt outside the entrance.
After several days, Buffy's friends had allowed her to leave the house, having found no sign whatsoever of what had happened to her on her first day at work. Buffy was very glad about this. Having spent now several days without properly fulfilling her Slayer protocols had given her a sense of restlessness, that a few hard days' work promised to correct.
"Try to be patient with Anya," Tara advised Buffy. "She doesn't really like to share much of anything – even work."
"Just try and do whatever she says," Willow added. "Oh, and stay away from the money. Anya is... very protective, when it comes to her profits."
"I will do that," Buffy assured them. "I will see you at home!"
With that, Willow and Tara headed off down the street towards the university, and Buffy strode purposefully through the door of the Magic Box, and into the wonderous world of retail.
Across the street from the shop, three young men were watching the conversation avidly. They each were each peering through a flickering screen on the inside of their bulky black van, and were listening in, courtesy of a microphone built into the roof. The camera they had planted inside a gnome in the Summers' family garden had done its work well. The moment the Slayer had left the house, they knew.
The days following their last experiment had only heightened Warren's certainty that something was amiss. According to their surveillance equipment, the Slayer had remained inside for several days now – breaking what they knew to be her usual pattern of activity. At first, he had theorised she was merely healing from her injury – the Trio had seen for themselves just how beat up the Slayer had been. Yet there had been no ambulances, no trips to the hospital – even if the Slayer had accelerated healing, it didn't seem believable that she could naturally reset a bone.
Therefore, their next experiment focused far more on testing the Slayer's responses to stress and emotions. Jonathan had prepared a particularly devious spell that was bound to deliver answers. The most beautiful part of the scheme – none of them even had to risk themselves this time. Thanks to a cunningly disguised camera hidden inside a particularly well-placed skull, all they had to do was wait – and watch.
As Anya was scribbling on pieces of paper behind the service desk, and pressing buttons on her money machine – Buffy had happily settled into her new role. Despite seeming less than happy at her presence, Anya had taken Buffy through the basics – shown her the inventory of items she sold, where they were located – gave her a brief introduction to how the storeroom was organised in the basement, and then given her some cleaning equipment and encouraged her to have at it.
After about half an hour of enthusiastic spraying and dusting, the chiming of a bell came from the front door, and Anya quickly scooted out from her desk and over to Buffy.
"Alright robot girl," said Anya, as Buffy lowered the duster from the shelf she was currently cleaning. "See that lady over there?"
Anya was pointing towards the woman who had just entered. She was extremely pale, had very short black hair, and had an expression on her face that seemed to indicate she had become aware of a particularly unpleasant odour.
"This is your first proper test – I want you to go over to her, offer to help – and don't let her leave without giving us money."
"Okay!" Buffy said, immediately striding purposefully towards the woman.
"Hello!" She called out, a broad smile on her face.
The woman narrowed her eyes. She clearly wasn't happy. "It's about time!"
Buffy's smile wavered slightly. "Can I help you?"
"I certainly hope so! I purchased this 'Urn of Ishtar' from you about a month ago – and it's worse than useless."
Buffy frowned at the large, ornate cup the lady withdrew from the satchel at her hip. "Why is that?"
"As you surely know – if you claim to work in a magic shop - an Urn of Ishtar is a crucial component in invocations in implementing desires. The spell takes hours to properly prepare – and despite my perfect preparation, the resulting affect was nothing less than disastrous. I have spent an entire week being ignored and disregarded by every single person I meet. I have been denied bus tickets, prevented from buying groceries, my boyfriend has moved to upstate Ohio, and other things more humiliating than you can imagine!"
Buffy paused for a moment, considering her answer. "I am very sorry to hear that. Would you like another Urn?"
The woman snorted. "For a start! But I think I deserve some serious compensation!"
"Alright!" said Buffy. "I will just go and speak to Anya, then-"
The bell rang again.
Buffy turned towards the door, once again finding herself by the bookshelf, feather duster in hand.
In a moment, Anya was beside her again. "Alright robot girl – See that lady over there?"
Buffy shook her head. "How did I get here? And why did the customer leave?"
"Excuse me?" said Anya, clearly taken aback by her response.
"I just spoke to that lady!"
Anya looked at her strangely. "No... you haven't – she's just walked through the door. Now go help her – and don't let her leave without giving us money!"
So Buffy approached the customer once again, following precisely the same approach as she had before.
The bell rang again.
"Why are you doing this?" Buffy asked as she approached the customer, this time not even waiting for Anya to approach her.
If anything, the woman's expression had become more hostile than ever. "Excuse me?"
"Why are you repeating this request? I am happy to help you replace your urn."
The woman looked scandalised. "You knew about the urn!? You did this on purpose!"
Buffy heard the sound of footsteps behind her, followed by Anya's outraged voice. "Buffy – what are you doing?!"
The bell rang again.
This time, Buffy went straight to Anya, before she had even had time to leave the service desk.
"Anya – Please, I need you to listen."
"Now?" Anya questioned. "There's a customer – I need you to go and make sure she leaves us her money!"
"It is about her. Every time I try to assist-"
The bell rang again.
"Alright robot girl – See that lady over there?"
"I cannot help her!" Buffy insisted. "Every time – I end up here."
"What are you talking about?"
"Something is wrong – like before, like with Xander!"
Anya spread her hands, looking around as if searching for some evidence of wrongdoing. "I don't see anything. Except a customer who should be getting some assistance right about now..."
Buffy just shook her head. "If I do, everything will just start over!"
"Eugh," Anya grunted. "I'll do it myself!"
The bell rang again.
Jonathan stared in disbelief at the screen. It had now been over thirty time-loops – and Buffy was still completely unable to get past his spell. That should have been a phenomenal success on his part – but it had only raised further questions.
"This is insane," Warren called out from his beanbag in the corner of the van. "She's been at this over and over and over again – why isn't she lashing out, or losing her mind, or... anything?"
"I don't know man," Andrew chipped in. "She's taking longer to figure this out than Data in that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, where the Enterprise explodes over and over..."
Warren snorted in agreement, before a sudden realisation hit him like a photon torpedo. A realisation that changed everything.
"Data..." said Warren. "Data can't express human emotion. He has a positronic brain, but his behaviour is dictated by thousands of active programs..."
"Until he gets the emotion chip in Generations," Jonathan chipped in.
"Actually, I think you'll find the chip is introduced in Season Four," Andrew corrected. "Data just doesn't use it until Generations. He gets it off his brother Lore in..."
"Hey!" Warren shouted, snapping his fingers to get their attention. "You're missing the point here!"
Jonathan frowned. "What point?"
Warren rose slowly to his feet, crossing the floor of the van and dramatically pointing at the figure walking on the screen. "The point is... that isn't the Slayer. I can't believe I didn't see it before! I knew there was something about her!"
As he said it, an evil grin spread across Warren's face, as the possibilities suddenly flooded his brilliant mind.
"What do you mean?" asked Andrew, puzzled. "That's definitely Buffy, man."
"No it isn't," Warren insisted, putting an arm around each of his friend's shoulders. "That, my friends - is a robot."
"That's a slightly dramatic conclusion," Jonathan scoffed. "We're going to need a bit more evidence."
"Oh we're going to get a lot more evidence," Warren promised, his grin extending maliciously. "But I should know. After all – I built her."
Chapter 13: Off the Straight and Narrow
Notes:
Many thanks to Sheeshasan for their lovely comment on the last chapter! I'm really glad people are engaging with this story as I reupload it.
Chapter Text
October was coming to an end, and the days were getting shorter.
Spike lingered in the shadows of the trees as Dawn emerged from the Sunnydale Mall, splitting off from her group of friends and beginning to head off on her own.
Even after everything, she was still taking foolish chances.
Without making so much as a sound besides the gentle swishing of his long leather coat through the air, Spike stepped out onto the sidewalk behind Dawn as she walked. He reached into the back pocket of her jeans, fluidly withdrawing the shiny chain of a silver necklace and holding it up. Dawn spun around on the spot with a gasp, before immediately exhaling in relief as she recognised him. Still, that comfort quickly disappeared when she realised what Spike was holding.
"Looks like you're doing pretty well for yourself," Spike observed wryly with a knowing look. "Yknow, considering no-one at home is bringing in any real cash..."
"I've been saving," Dawn shot back, just a little too quickly, with an obvious tremor in her voice.
Spike snorted. "Don't lie to me Dawn – you're pretty sodding bad at it."
Dawn's eyes narrowed, the look of innocence vanishing from her face. As she spoke again, she crossed her arms defiantly. "Why should you care anyway? You steal stuff all the time."
"Yeah, I do." Spike admitted casually, entirely nonplussed by her admission of the blindingly obvious. "But I don't give a toss. I'm the big bad, remember? No-one in this town could stop me if they wanted to. They're welcome to try..."
Dawn seemed unimpressed by his preening, turning away from Spike and beginning to stride away nonchalantly. "You didn't seem to care so much when we broke into the Magic Box."
"That was different," Spike countered, a little defensively as he moved to follow. "And in my defence – I'd take any excuse to ruffle old Rupert's feathers. And at least if I was there, I could stop you doing anything too stupid. Like releasing a troll, for example."
"Hey, that was Anya's fault! I'm not a silly little kid," Dawn insisted, though she snorted at his remark. "I haven't been caught yet, have I?"
"'Cept by me," Spike pointed out, now moving in step with the teenage girl. "But it's only a matter of time Dawn. You thought about what happens then?"
Dawn just shrugged.
Spike overtook her, moving to stand dead in her path. "Why you doing this?"
Dawn refused to meet his eye now. "Because I can. Just like you."
"No, not like me!" His raised voice made her jolt in spite of her attempts to remain detached. "You've got people who care about you Dawn. Buffy died to-"
Dawn cut him off harshly, not allowing him to finish that sentence. "I've told you - it's my life! What, are you going to tell on me?"
Spike grimaced. "I could, yknow. But here I was hoping you'd see sense before they catch on."
Dawn's eyes fell. "They're all too busy trying to protect me to notice anything."
Spike frowned, taken aback by the sudden change in her manner. "What are you talking about?"
"I always have to be protected," Dawn repeated." Mom, Buffy – now Willow, Tara – and you. They try to just keep everything away from me – like I'm in this... bubble. I thought at least that would end after... after Glory, but it's just the same. Now it's all desperately trying to keep my grades up, programming Buffybot for parent-teacher days, and trying to keep the truth of everything away from me! All so some strangers don't come and take me away, or I don't worry about anything." Dawn let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Don't you see, Spike? I'm not allowed to take any chances, to do anything that might possibly risk my carefully padded little life!"
Dawn's face contorted into an involuntary sob. "And I've tried – I've tried to do my best. Before she died... Buffy said to me that the hardest thing in this world was to live in it, but I had to live, for her. But this isn't living Spike! Just... staying at home, or in school, pretending most of the time that Buffy's fine, and everything's normal!"
Spike took Dawn's arm, guiding her under the trees and settling her down on the grass. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, sniffling as she rested her head against the trunk.
"At least this way, it feels I have any control over something in my life. This way, I'm not like Buffybot – who gets told exactly what she can do and when, then just gets switched off when she isn't needed."
"You're not like the Bot Dawn."
"How would you even know?" Dawn asked, oddly defensively. "It's not like you've even talked to her these past weeks..."
"I've got nothing to say to it," Spike derided, baffled by her reaction. "If I wanted to speak to an airhead blonde – I'd go find Harmony."
Spike considered Dawn for a moment, drumming his fingers against his coat thoughtfully. He had done what he could to keep Dawn on the straight and narrow, like Buffy had wanted. But it was clear enough to him that Dawn was determined to head down a more rebellious road, and it seemed likely he wouldn't be able to stop her. It was even less likely that the others would be able to either, seeing as they were all so blind to both what Dawn had been doing and feeling these last months.
In fact, if it wasn't for him watching over her – likely as not Dawn would have already met a sticky end. A new idea began to spring to mind. One that would allow him to continue to watch over the young girl, without sending her back to the mundane concerns that were obviously suffocating her.
"Look, I get it," Spike said finally. "I won't tell Wil and the Missus about what you've been doing – and I won't keep going on about it either."
Dawn looked up at him in disbelief. "You won't?"
"That's right," Spike affirmed. "But if you gonna keep making mischief, you may as well learn how to do it right..."
Dawn blinked, her face utterly confused. "I don't understand."
Spike's lips curled in a half-smirk. "I've learned a few tricks in my time. I could probably show you a thing or two – if you wanted."
Dawn's eyes widened in a combination of wonder and disbelief. "You'll help me?"
Spike nodded, reaching into his coat and retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips before lighting up. "I'll help you. All I ask is you let me know what you plan to do, and pay attention to what I say, alright?"
"Alright," Dawn agreed, pushing herself slowly back onto her feet. "I guess we should start with tomorrow then, huh?"
The promised Halloween rush arrived exactly as Willow had predicted.
Almost from the moment Anya opened the Magic Box on October 31st, the Scooby Gang had been utterly swamped with customers. Although Anya stubbornly refused to leave her precious position at the cash register when so much currency was flowing so willingly into her coffers, Tara and Willow were sufficiently knowledgeable and experienced to answer almost any mystical or seasonal query without too much trouble.
That being said, Willow still found it challenging to refrain from calling out wicca stereotypes with a volcano of fiery passion, nonetheless Tara's calmer manner prevented any one situation from dangerous overflowing into a full-blown customer service incident.
Dawn and Xander similarly drifted from task to task, fetching and shelving, while Buffybot furiously bagged and wrapped every item brought to the till. She worked with her usual grin glued to her face, watching the rush of colourful costumes moving before her with childlike wonder. The only misunderstanding emerged when one goth teenager entered the shop dressed as a cloaked vampire, and Tara had to quickly grab Buffybot after she leapt over the bar, charging towards him with the unfaltering intent of driving a stake through his heart, the words 'Vampires of the world; beware!' already forming on her lips.
Eventually however, with the shelves almost bare and the cash register almost overflowing, the storm of consumerism finally blew itself out. As the long Autumn afternoon finally came to an end, the Scooby Gang lay strewn about in its wake, aching with exertion, but somewhat satisfied nonetheless. Anya was the notable exception to this, still standing behind the register and now with wads of green notes in either hand, fanning them with her fingers and waving them in the air as she danced wildly. Buffybot was trying to imitate her, to Dawn's great amusement, and before long all three of them were dancing absurdly behind the counter, as the others looked on with weary smiles and shaking heads.
"Do you do this every night?" Dawn asked between laughs.
"Every time I close the cash register!" Anya declared proudly, "Behold the dance of capitalist superiority!"
Xander smiled wistfully as he looked at his girlfriend, though his face gradually became touched with sadness. He took a deep breath, as though he were about to jump to his feet and say something, but at the last moment he stopped himself, falling back into his chair and looking downcast at his hands.
"Well," Willow said as she clambered wearily to her feet. "I think it's about time we started heading back. From what we saw today, I don't think we want Buffybot roaming the streets when everyone starts Trick or Treating..."
"What is Trick or Treating?"
"It's when you bang on everyone's doors and demand free candy," Anya explained simply. "Personally, I think its socialist nonsense."
Buffybot nodded happily for a moment, before looking perplexed once again. "Then what is the trick?"
"Well," Tara began. "The idea is that if they refuse to give you candy, you play a trick on them. For example... knock over their letter box, or umm... cover their house in toilet paper."
"And they are okay with that?" Buffybot asked.
"Not very often," Willow chipped in.
"But why are so many wearing such strange clothing?" Buffybot asked again, seemingly oblivious to the growing exasperation on her friends' faces.
Tara got to her feet. "It's just another Halloween tradition Buffy. People dress up as witches and wizards, as monsters and fairy tale characters..."
"Oh!" Buffy exclaimed, her eyes going wide in apparent revelation. "So – as you and Willow are both witches... you have come dressed as yourself!"
Tara snorted, managing to restrain a laugh though her smile widened. "I guess you could say that."
"Well," Willow replied, crossly crossing her arms. "At least what we're wearing is more accurate than those pointy hatted, warty stereotypes..."
Buffybot frowned at Dawn. "Why are you not dressing up?"
"Pffft," Dawn breathed disdainfully, rolling her eyes. "It's more of a little kid thing. I don't bother with that stuff anymore."
"Why? It looks very exciting. Look! Xander is a one-eyed scruffy man!"
Xander opened his mouth as though he were about to reply, but then closed his eyes.
"I'm a pirate."
"Oh," Buffybot said, frowning thoughtfully. "Where is your boat?"
"It's in the mail," Xander quipped, before motioning to the door. "Okay then gang – shall we?"
"Alright Buffy," Willow explained, plopping an enormous glass bowl down on the kitchen island. "When you hear a knock on the door, you take this bowl – and when they ask 'Trick or Treat?' – you hold it out for them to take, okay?"
Buffy nodded in agreement. "I will give them the bowl."
"No Buffy," Tara instructed. "We don't really have that many bowls to lose. Just the candy, alright?"
"Alright! But what if I run out of candy?"
"Xander managed to get hold of a decent supply," Tara assured her. "If the bowl gets empty, just come back in here and refill it."
"Other than that – usual rules," explained Willow. "Let Dawn or the machine answer the phone, and don't try to cook anything. If Dawn gets hungry, there are leftovers from yesterday in the refrigerator."
"And when will you be back?"
"By midnight," Willow replied. "The meetings have tended to last longer, now we've actually managed to talk some of the other 'Daughters of Gaea' to actually start trying spells... instead of yknow, smelling incense and sensing our own auras..."
"They still hold bake sales every Tuesday, though," Tara added.
"Oh yeah..." Willow remarked in amusement. "I for one am really hoping Nicole brings one of her empowering lemon cakes tonight..."
"See you later Dawn!" Tara called out as the two witches reached the front door, Willow waving at the younger girl seated on the couch.
"See you later mega-witches," Dawn said with a sly smile.
Soon enough, Buffy had settled herself on the couch beside her sister, quickly distracted by the flashing images on the television screen.
"So, I'm not sure if Willow and Tara mentioned anything," Dawn began casually, twiddling her fingers in her lap as Buffy quickly turned to face her. "But I was gonna go over to Spike's place tonight, bring him some stuff he likes. Sorta like a thank you for still helping us out all this time, despite... yknow, being a soulless vamp?"
"Oh," Buffy responded, a whirl of thoughts going through her processor. "They did not tell me that. I thought we were both staying here."
"Well..." Dawn mused. "You could come along? Come over to Spike's with me? He has a TV there, we could all hang out."
Buffy felt something she couldn't quite identify. The thought of Spike refusing to look at her, to talk to her, seemingly repulsed by her very presence was deeply distressing.
"Spike doesn't like me anymore," Buffy said. "I don't think he wants to see me."
Dawn looked sympathetically at Buffy, though she briefly averted her eyes when she continued. "I know it bothers you... you don't have to come if you want – I won't be on my own, and its Halloween anyway. Not even the monsters come out tonight..."
Buffy was grateful for that. She thought it over for a few moments, considering Dawn's words. Well, since Willow and Tara had told Dawn that this was okay – and considering what they had told Buffy about Halloween, it seemed to make sense. Perhaps that was why the two women had instructed her in how to hand out candy, instead of Dawn. Yes, it seemed to make sense.
"Okay," Buffy agreed. "Would you like me to walk you there? Should I have got Spike a gift as well?"
Dawn shook her head quickly. "No, I'm bringing stuff from all of us. And it's only a few blocks... there's no point in you just walking all the way for that, the streets are full of people anyway! So... you're okay with this?"
Buffy nodded. "Yes. When will you be home?"
"Dawn sprang to her feet. "It'll be a while – I mean, vampires are nocturnal, so I doubt Spike thinks about time like that. But don't worry, I'll be home before too late."
With that, Dawn walked from the living room, offering Buffy a little wave before opening the door and vanishing into the gathering night.
Buffy couldn't help but feel as though something wasn't quite right, but couldn't work out what.
Dawn felt a rush of satisfaction as she marched swiftly away from home, and down the suburban sidewalk. Everything had worked out just as she had hoped. She did feel a slight, creeping guilt about manipulating Buffybot, especially through what Dawn saw as her wounding over Spike's revulsion towards her. Still, no real harm was done. Dawn would be back before Willow and Tara got back from their wicca rituals, and none of them would be any the wiser.
Dawn turned down a slightly darker alley, feeling a cold chill pass over her as the shadows seemed to eye her from its dark edges.
"You get over the wall okay?" a voice asked boisterously, nearly giving Dawn a heart attack after her shoulder was grabbed from behind. To Dawn's relief as she span around, she saw Janice standing there in a grey turtleneck crop-top, elegantly exposing her waist above tight-fitting blue jeans. Her dark, wicked eyes and volcanic mane of auburn hair had their usual smoulder, and her lips were twisted into an amused, self-satisfied smirk.
"Yeah," Dawn replied breathlessly, the adrenaline fading away. "My sister thinks I'm going to visit... a friend of the family."
"Huh," Janice noted appreciatively. "The Mominator thinks I'm staying over at yours. Falling for that one... I mean, own a TV, right?"
Both girls laughed.
"So, where are we meeting?"
Janice twitched her eyebrows, a wicked expression on her face, her head swaying ever so slightly in apparent anticipation. "The park. Where all the monsters gather on Halloween!"
With that, Janice took Dawn by the arm, leading her out of the alley and down towards the shadowy treeline at the far end of the street.
Two teenage boys were waiting in the park, one perched on a picnic table whilst another swung madly from a nearby swingset. The one on the swings was large, built like a football player with a enormous forehead and what Dawn considered a slightly gormless face. Her impression of him wasn't improved when a half-crushed beer can smacked him in the face, causing him to nearly lose his balance.
The one who threw the can however, couldn't have been more different. He was just as tall as the larger boy, but slender, with luxurious brown hair, a strong, angular face and hypnotic blue eyes. Justin.
Dawn was momentarily distracted from admiring him when the larger boy noticed them, launching himself from the swings and pulling Janice into a racy embrace.
"Hey Baby..." He drawled "What took you so long."
Janice pulled away from the embrace, her usual smirk having extended into a grin. "Had to stop for crimes and misdemeanours... Zach, this is my friend, Dawn."
Zach eyed her greedily. "Helloo..."
Janice smacked him in the arm playfully, and Dawn was surprised to find herself smiling in spite of herself. She had never had that kind of blatant, lustful attention thrust upon her, and to her own surprise, she felt a slight rush.
"Hey," another voice came. "I'm Justin."
He reached out his hand, and Dawn took it gently in hers. "I know... I've seen you around at a couple of parties."
"I've seen you too."
Butterflies.
Dawn couldn't seem to open her mouth again to speak, not even able to break eye contact with Justin as they just looked at one another, hypnotised.
"So..." Janice broke the silence. "What do you guys wanna do?"
The next few hours were a blur. Pumpkins were smashed, tires punctured and mischief made on every street corner. Their 'visit' with Mr Colinbach had felt like a close call, but now at least that was behind them.
Now they were tearing around in Zach's car, Dawn wrapped in Justin's sports coat and holding onto Janice for dear life as they drifted recklessly around corners, and showboated down the dark streets. Eventually, Zach wrenched the car off of the road surface, cruising bumpily to a halt under the trees.
With one last wink and a squeeze of Dawn's hand, Janice flung herself out of the car, laughing gleefully as Zach followed suit from the driver's seat.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't dude!" Zach jeered to Justin as he slammed the door, before Janice seized him for a desperate kiss.
She whispered something Dawn couldn't quite make out, before laughing again and charging off into the nearby undergrowth. Another moment, and they had both vanished from sight.
The silence was deafening. For a moment, neither Dawn nor Justin moved, and the only sound Dawn heard was the rapid beating of her heart.
"Mind if I join you back there?" asked Justin as he half-turned his head to face her, a cute little smile on his face.
Dawn shivered ever so slightly, though she hoped he didn't notice. "Sure. Might hurt your neck otherwise."
Dawn hoped her jest didn't sound as awkward and stilted as it seemed, but Justin chortled, his smile widening into an appreciative grin. A moment later he had climbed out of his seat, and slid into the back beside her, his arm resting on the parcel shelf mere inches from her shoulders. She could smell his cologne, a thick, musky scent that somehow made her feel a little light-headed.
"S-So..." Dawn Stammered, suddenly unable to think of a single thing to say.
"Yeah," Justin replied casually, seeming far more at ease than she was.
"It's... cold." Dawn managed to say, grabbing the thick fabric of the sports coat. "Do you want this back?"
Justin shook his head, never moving his eyes from Dawn. "I don't really feel the cold."
"What are you, Superman?" Dawn said with a rather fake sounding laugh, cringing internally at herself again. Why couldn't she just sound normal?
"No," he replied, leaning ever so slightly closer. "But I do have... a few special powers."
Dawn's heart felt as though it were trying to escape her chest. Just as Justin seemed as though he were about to attempt a kiss, she pulled away, banging her head clumsily against the window.
"Sorry," Dawn said foolishly, rubbing the back of her head.
To Dawn's surprise, Justin didn't look offended. He merely offered another of his sweet, rather gentle smiles.
"Do you want to go?"
"No," Dawn answered quickly. "It's just... what do you expect-"
"Shh..." he breathed, and the words died on Dawn's lips. "I just want to taste you..."
Before Dawn could even think, his lips were on hers, and she forgot her anxiety. The kiss was warm, it was soft, and she felt a rush of feelings she couldn't quite define surging through all through her body. It lasted forever, and ended far too soon.
Dawn took a deep breath, unable to express what she was feeling. "That'll put marzipan in my pie plate, bingo..." The words flooded from her mouth, unprompted.
Justin snorted. "What?"
Dawn flushed in sudden awareness of what she had said. "Umm... nothing. That was just... wow."
Justin grinned in realisation. "Oh... that was your first!"
Dawn felt mortified, immediately embarrassed by her lack of experience becoming evident. "What? No."
"It was!" Justin laughed good-naturedly. "That was your first kiss!"
"I-I've been kissed before!" Dawn insisted. "I kiss all the time – not that I'm a kiss slut, just... yknow, with the lips and the pressing together... expert here."
Justin just shot her a level, amused look, saying nothing.
"Okay, okay! I know, I know I suck, my lips are dry and my tongue's all horrible and sticky and I'm pretty sure I drooled on you so just tell me how terrible it was and-"
Then his lips were on hers again, and again her protests were forgotten.
"It was perfect," Justin breathed, before re-joining their lips.
The kiss was longer this time, their lips roaming and grasping at each other hungrily. Dawn's hand slid up Justin's arm until she was cupping his face, and he had a hand in her hair.
Justin broke the spell just long enough to say a single sentence:
"You are so beautiful."
And Dawn was lost again.
Buffy sprang to her feet as she heard the front door swing open, the sound of canned laughter from the television reverberating softly through the room. The door closed again, and Willow and Tara stood in the hallway, the latter helping the former remove her coat.
"Sweetie, all I'm saying is you could have handled it a little differently."
By the look on her face, Willow did not agree with this assessment. "Tara, she was being ridiculous."
"Maybe," Tara admitted carefully. "But she was clearly feeling a little... threatened by everything."
Willow's frown deepened. "Threatened? You think I'm threatening?"
"I didn't say that," said Tara. "But Willow... you're so far ahead of all of us. You use complex magic like it's the easiest thing in the world..."
"Tara, she stormed off because I suggested that we shouldn't be ignoring the celestial calendar because it might interfere with bake sales!"
Tara sighed, taking a moment to remove her own coat. "Nicole left because she's been leading the Daughters for two years, and now it's going through so many changes... starting to use magic, touching a greater power – I think she feels like she's losing control, and I can understand why. We should have reassured her..."
"Let's just forget it for now, okay?"
Tara blinked, looking a little hurt but nodding. "A-alright."
"Buffy," Willow said as she moved into the living room. "Everything go okay? Dawn's not already sleepin' is she?"
Buffy shook her head. "Dawn isn't here. She is still with Spike."
"With Spike?" Tara questioned, the momentary look of hurt on her face quickly replaced by concern as she spoke. "What do you mean, with Spike?"
Buffy frowned. Had they forgotten the plans Dawn had spoken of? "Dawn went to give him a gift. From all of us. She said you knew."
Willow and Tara looked at one another.
"Buffy," Willow began, "I don't have any idea what you're talking about. Dawn was supposed to stay with you tonight."
"No," Buffy insisted, running the memory files through her mind. "Dawn said she told you, but that you might not have told me."
A silent moment lingered.
"Buffy," Tara began gently. "I think Dawn might have lied to you."
Buffy didn't understand. That made no sense. Dawn had explained everything – Buffy had never anticipated she would say something untrue. Surely, Tara was mistaken "Oh, Dawn wouldn't do that. She is my sister!"
"Buffy it's not that simple," Tara explained, her voice caught somewhere between patience and strain. "We need to find her. If she lied about that, we don't know if the rest is true. She might not even be with Spike."
Just then, the phone began to ring. Willow quickly vanished from sight, though her words carried clearly into the room from the hallway.
"Oh, Hello Mrs... no, Janice isn't here... Have you heard from Dawn? No, we didn't agree to have Janice over. Well, how could we check up if we didn't k- ... never mind. Yeah, of course we'll let you know the moment we know anything. Alright, bye."
In a moment, Willow had stormed back into the living room, her eyes flashing with a fury Buffy had never seen. "Janice is missing. Her mom said Janice told her she was staying over with Dawn tonight. Now they're both gone."
Willow turned to Buffy. "Buffy... we asked you to look after her!"
"Willow, don't..." Tara attempted to interject, but Willow was resolute, her hands waving at her sides.
"You didn't even offer to walk her over?"
Buffy felt overwhelmed, unsure how to process everything which had happened. "I did," she explained. "But Dawn said because it was Halloween that she would be safe. And since you said that I did not need to patrol, I thought-"
"Oh you thought?" Willow snapped, and Buffy clamped her mouth shut.
"Stop it!" Tara shouted, causing both Willow and Buffy's heads to turn. Tara almost never raised her voice, not for any reason. "This isn't helping anything – we need to find Dawn!"
"You're right," Willow conceded, though she looked no less angry. "Buffybot... just... just go and get Spike. If Dawn isn't there, he'll help track her down. I'm gonna call Xander, then Tara and I will check the Bronze."
Willow immediately stormed from the room again, leaving Buffy standing frozen to the spot, lost in a storm of chaos and contradictions.
Tara hovered silently for a moment, before taking a step towards Buffy, her arms crossed in a slightly vulnerable pose.
"It's not your fault. I mean... I don't blame you."
"I am to blame," said Buffy. "I... I upset Willow. I should have looked after Dawn. But I didn't go with her, because..."
Tara looked curiously at her. "Go on."
Buffy lowered her eyes. "Dawn asked if I wanted to go with her. But I did not. Because... because Spike does not want to see me. The way he looks at me – the way he does not look at me. It is... difficult."
Tara looked pensive for a moment, her brow knotted. When she spoke again, there was sympathy in her voice. "I think I know why Dawn told you what she did. When we find her... we'll talk about it, okay?"
Buffy nodded slowly.
Tara placed a hand on Buffy's arm. "Are you happy to go get Spike, considering... considering how you feel?"
Buffy hesitated a moment before replying. "Yes. We need him."
Tara offered a grateful smile. "Good luck. Hopefully this will all be over soon."
"Ow!" Dawn exclaimed, as a sharp pain dug into her lower lip.
"I'm sorry," Justin apologised in a sincere voice, though Dawn couldn't help but notice a certain hunger in his eyes.
Their kiss resumed, Dawn closing her eyes and losing herself to the sensation which filled her entire being, a warmth and a need that drowned out everything else. Then, without knowing why, her eyes flicked open almost of their own accord, and she found herself staring deep into bestial yellow orbs.
It was instinct. In what felt like a single motion, Dawn threw Justin against the door, kicking open her own with strength she didn't know she had. Dawn only just had the wits to slam the door after her, giving her precious seconds to get as far away as possible. She had to get away, find Janice and Zach, or someone. She heard another door open, and the sound of approaching footfalls behind her.
"Get away from me!" Dawn screamed, though before she could so much as reach the treeline a cold grip had seized her shoulder.
"Wait!" Justin shouted, spinning her around with such strength that Dawn was powerless as he grabbed her other arm with his free hand. "I thought we could hang out, or something?"
"Hang out?!" Dawn blurted incredulously.
"Yeah... I mean, you're not like other girls. You're different. There's something special about you. I knew it the first time I saw you."
She was looking into his eyes again. Those golden, hypnotic eyes that were hellish pits beneath the ridge of his grotesquely distended vampiric brow.
"I just... want to be close to you," he cooed softly. Dawn didn't even realise he had released his hold on her, until he was running the back of his fingers down her cheek. The only resistance she managed was to pull away slightly, but her legs may as well have been made of stone.
"Sshhh," he whispered again. "It's okay... it'll only hurt for a second."
Justin's mouth opened, revealing vicious fangs as he leaned in towards her neck, and Dawn's suddenly heavy eyelids closed of their own accord.
Chapter 14: Betrayal
Notes:
Thank you to Elsiefrenzy for her wonderful excitement and appreciation!
Chapter Text
Dawn felt the skin prickle on her neck as the jaws widened a hair's breadth away. She braced herself against the pain to come, squeezing her eyes shut all the more tightly. Then there was a rush of movement beside her, and the sound of a body falling back against earth. Opening her eyes, Dawn looked in disbelief as Justin lay flat on his back several feet away, looking up in anger and surprise at a newly arrived figure.
"You picked the wrong night, mate. And the wrong bloody girl!"
Spike. Spike had come for her.
Dawn put a shaking hand to her neck, feeling the unbitten skin and finding it sufficiently reassuring. She forced herself onto unsteady legs, all the while keeping her eyes on the two vampires in front of her.
"Back off dude," Justin warned him, his bestial eyes flashing dangerously. "This is none of your business. Find a girl of your own!"
Justin was a vampire. Until this moment, Dawn's thoughts had been too chaotic, too rapid, too panicked to properly process the information. Her first kiss had been with a vampire. Everything she had felt, everything they had shared had been nothing but a lie, a trick – meant to lure her out here to die.
"It's Halloween you nit!" Spike spat, stressing every word between gritted teeth. "We take the night off – those are the rules!"
"Says who?"
This voice was new and unfamiliar, calling out from across the clearing. The sound was followed by the sound of several car doors slamming shut. Dawn turned to see that another three vehicles had pulled up underneath the trees, each of them containing two or three passengers. As they stood and began to circle the clearing, it became apparent that they shared the same demonic appearance, and soulless yellow eyes.
"Get out of here Dawn," Spike hissed, his head spinning around to half-face her, before turning back to the other vampire who had just spoken.
"We don't follow no rules," the first voice continued contemptuously. "We're rebels!"
There was a resonant thunk of wood, and the offending vampire dissolved into dust.
"You're not rebels," Spike remarked acidly, loading another wooden bolt into his hand-crossbow. "I'm a rebel – you're just a load of wankers in the woods."
The stand-off became a fray. By the time Spike finished his insult, Justin had picked himself off of the ground, running at Spike with a ferocious growl tearing up his throat. Spike sent a savage kick directly into his chest as Justin charged, knocking him back just before another three of the newly arrived vampires came into striking distance.
Spike was on the cusp of piercing another with his weapon, but just as he fired his hand-crossbow, a dark-haired female vampire with blood already running freely down her chin wrenched the weapon upwards, causing it to fire uselessly into the air.
Finally feeling the frozen grip of fear release her, Dawn turned from the fray and sprinted headlong into the trees. She had no weapons – no stake, no holy water – nothing that might have helped Spike or herself. She cursed herself for being so thoughtless. Regardless of it being Halloween, a few precautions would have been easy enough to bring along. Nonetheless, the only thing to do now was run.
Even as she tore deeper and deeper into the trees, Dawn reckoned she had a fairly good notion of what direction she needed to go. For now, she thought her best option was to try and lose the vampires behind the twisting trunks, before suddenly changing direction and breaking out onto the open, well-lit roads. Dawn continued to sprint for what felt like forever, until a sudden pain spasmed in her side, forcing her to stop for breath.
The woods were quiet, dark, and deep. They seemed entirely empty but for the ragged sounds of Dawn's own breathing, and the distant, strangely disquieting rustle of dying autumn leaves on the wind. For a few precious moments, Dawn felt a growing confidence that she was safe. She let out a long breath of relief, before starting to move again between the trees at a more measured pace.
Then she heard a sound that sent chills up her spine.
"Where you headed Dawn? I thought you said you wanted to stay..."
"Spike?!"
The name echoed around the blank stone walls of the crypt, though they provoked no answer. Buffy stepped inside, searching thoroughly for any sign of her former lover's presence. But there was nothing. The lamp and television were both dark, the candles cold and dead. Slightly disheartened, Buffy moved to the trapdoor in the far corner, lifting it quickly and gazing down the ladder beneath. There was still no light, no sounds from below.
"Spike?! We require your assistance. Dawn has gone missing! I need to find her!"
The empty darkness hovering beneath Buffy did not answer. A moment later however, the high, clear sound of a scream from outside did. She did not hesitate. In the fragment of a moment it had taken her to process the sound, Buffy switched over to her slaying protocols, sprinting from the crypt with unparalleled speed before charging through the cemetery, vaulting over graves and headstones with mechanical precision. She crossed the border into the trees without so much as slowing down, winding and weaving effortlessly past each trunk as she followed the fading sounds of struggle. Moments after they had faded away into ominous silence – Buffy found their source.
Beside the bottom of a large oak tree, lay the body of a teenage girl. She was face down, her limp and lifeless limbs strewn about violently among the rotting brown leaves.
Above her, stood the large, shadowed silhouette of a vampire.
Buffy froze, her eyes locked on the fallen figure. Her slaying protocols vehemently demanded she engage the vampire and slay him without hesitation, yet Buffy could not seem to redirect her gaze.
In that moment, she was so sure it was Dawn.
Feelings Buffy could not hope to process flooded over her. Failure. This was her failure. It had been her duty, her mission to protect Dawn from harm – to keep her safe, and happy and well. To make lunch for her, and brush her lovely hair in the mornings. To watch TV with her and listen to her stories of school life. To go with her to parent-teacher meetings. Buffy felt empty.
This was her fault. This was all her fault. It seemed to be the only thought that Buffy could process. In this moment, Buffy was sure that this simple sight was the single most horrible thing her files had ever recorded.
"What the..." the vampire began as he turned, wiping his bloodied mouth with his arm. Then he sniggered, beginning to take lazy, easy-going steps towards her. "Oh hey there, beautiful. What, are you feeling left out? Well..."
The vampire paused for a moment, turning to look at Dawn's body and shaking his head. "She's sleeping now – what she doesn't know wouldn't hu-"
Buffy's right arm rocketed from its place at her side, slamming into the vampire's head and knocking him savagely against a tree trunk. There was a sickening crack, and his body slid limply down to the ocean of dead leaves at her feet. Still, Buffy only had eyes for Dawn.
She took slow, jagged steps towards the body, as though her joints had all but corroded away. The idea of her sister's lifeless form seemed inconceivable, like a lively house full of laughter and joy suddenly left empty and silent. It didn't make sense. It was impossible. It was wrong.
Slowly, Buffy crouched down, attempting to softly move the long hair that covered her sister's face, her touch a gentle caress.
But it wasn't her face.
Now that Buffy could see her more clearly, that fact was becoming all the more apparent. The clothes were different from what Buffy had seen Dawn wearing earlier in the evening, and even in the darkness it was now clear that the hair was the wrong shade. Buffy had never seen this girl before.
She pressed her fingers to the girl's neck, feeling for a pulse, but there was nothing. Buffy's initial assessment was correct; she was deceased.
Buffy felt some semblance of functionality return. It was not Dawn. Dawn was alright – she must be alright. She had to save her. Still, the comfort was not absolute. Even if she did not know this girl, Buffy still reasoned that she was still, ultimately, to blame. She was the Slayer – and vampires were running amok on her watch. Willow and Tara had told her that there was no need to patrol, but the evidence of her own eyes told her otherwise. This was her responsibility. She had been unable to see that, just as she had been unable to see through Dawn's lie.
Buffy rose to her feet, turning to face the still floored and groaning vampire. With one swift moment, she sped towards him, grabbing him by the shirt with one hand and pinning him back against the tree. He cried out in pain, his deep-set yellow eyes bleary and unfocused.
"Are there others?" Buffy asked sternly. "Where are your friends?"
The vampire was stuttering incoherently, eventually managing to spit out a few words. "Wh-what are you man?"
"I am the Slayer. And you will tell me what I need to know."
The bleary eyes went wide, and finally managed to focus on Buffy's face. She recognised the terror in his face.
An arm jutted out to the side, pointing wildly deeper into the woods. "We... we're meeting at the clearing – where all the college kids go to make out – now, now you'll let me go, right? I helped you, and you're gonna let me go?"
Buffy stared hard at him for a moment, briefly considering. "No. I cannot let you hurt anyone else."
Her free hand pulled a stake from inside her red leather jacket, and Buffy jammed it straight into the large vampire's chest, in the spot directly above the heart. His mouth went wide, his face a picture of abject terror before his body dissolved away.
Buffy did not even hesitate long enough to perform her perfunctory pun, dismissing the program with growing ease. Before the dust had finished falling, she had already vanished into the rustling trees.
The unmistakable sound of Justin's voice immediately made Dawn jump. She swivelled around on the spot, trying to identify the direction she had thought the voice had come from. Yet Dawn could make out no movement, nothing besides the thick tree trunks and the unruly brush of the undergrowth. She looked up, wondering if perhaps he was hiding amongst the upper branches, waiting to pounce.
"Justin, please..." Dawn begged, backing slowly away through the trees. "Don't do this!"
"Don't do what?" Justin laughed, his voice now coming from an entirely different direction. He allowed the question to hang in the air for a moment, as Dawn continued to move away, failing to stop herself from tripping over stray roots and hidden rocks as she went.
"I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you think... well, not exactly."
Her heart racing ever faster in her chest, Dawn started to run again. She had now lost any sense of direction, and her cramping side still rebelled with pain, but the fear was stronger.
"Are you still trying to escape?" Justin called out, the sound coming from in front of her this time, causing Dawn to slide to a halt, turning around and picking another direction.
"Is this a game? A dance? It's a little late to be playing hard to get... after you've already given me such a sweet taste..."
Tears of terror now flowing freely down her face, Dawn leapt over a fallen log in her path, only for Justin to emerge suddenly from behind a neighbouring tree, catching the front of her jacket in mid-air and lowering her feet to the ground.
"And now I need a little more," Justin said, his demonic visage still plain on his face.
"I... I thought you liked me," Dawn pleaded weakly, desperate to say anything to save her life. Her genuine hurt at his betrayal however, leaked through into her tone.
Justin frowned, an oddly sincere look coming onto his face. She felt a hand placed on the small of her back, before Justin pulled her close as if in a lover's embrace "I do, don't you see? And you like me too..."
"I... I did," she admitted. That was the worst part of all of it. She wondered if this was how Buffy felt, when she first learned Angel was a vampire; the betrayal, the fear, the feeling of foolishness. She should have been able to tell. She should have noticed something.
"So that's why I'm going to make you like me – an immortal, a vampire... Zach wanted Janice, but I-"
"Janice? Zach wanted..." The sinking feeling in Dawn's stomach swiftly became a screaming void. "N-no! No you can't!"
Justin looked puzzled, the hand on the front of her denim jacket moving to squeeze her left arm. "Why not? I like you, you like me, I drink from you, you drink from me – and we have an eternity to do whatever we want... I thought it was a pretty sweet deal."
Dawn struggled vigorously against Justin's iron embrace, but succeeded only in prompting the teenage vampire to press her up against the nearest tree as she thrashed and kicked at him.
There was no anticipation this time. No build up, no drinking in of the moment by her attacker. His head dove towards her neck, fangs met flesh, and Dawn felt nothing but the pain. Her flailing arms went limp, her legs stiffened and all trace of resistance drained from her body. Even Dawn's emotions, her fear, her guilt – all were burned away by the eviscerating agony that coursed through her veins. A single cry of utter suffering managed to escape her lips and fresh tears bloomed in her eyes. Dawn barely noticed when her legs gave way beneath her, and Justin followed her down onto her knees.
As the searing pain began to fade, Dawn said a silent prayer in her mind:
I'm sorry Buffy. I'm sorry I couldn't live in this world like you wanted.
"You will not hurt my sister!"
Justin withdrew his fangs, practically leaping to his feet to face the intruder. He turned just in time to receive a severe kick to the side of his face, goading a furious animal growl from between his jagged fangs.
Dawn looked up in disbelief to see her older sister standing before her, a look of utmost determination in her face. Her eyes did not move from her prey, her fists raised and ready for the next bout. Dawn felt a rush of emotions that forced an unbidden, hoarse sob from her throat.
It was Buffy – she was back. She was here to save her.
Justin recovered quickly from the assault, launching a punch at Buffy's head, but Buffy merely ducked under the blow. She took the opportunity to use his momentum against him, grabbing the offending arm with both of her own and flipping Justin over her shoulder to collapse in a heap on her other side. Dawn noticed a pointy shape tumble out of Buffy's jacket as she completed the move, tumbling down amongst the mess of woodland debris at their feet.
"She... is... mine!" Justin bellowed in outrage, clambering to his feet and charging his opponent again. He launched another several feverish blows towards Buffy, who went on the defensive, backing off as he persisted in his desperate assault.
"No," Buffy countered matter-of-factly, deflecting another punch before kicking him straight between the legs. "She is not."
Justin crumpled with a breathless wheeze, falling forwards onto his knees. Buffy reached into her jacket for her stake, but Dawn was there faster. She threw herself forward, grabbing the fallen stake from the ground and driving it hard into the left-hand side of Justin's back. He let out one final groan, his head snapping around to fix Dawn with a disbelieving glare, then faded away. Just as though he were any other monster.
"Your wound," Buffy remarked in a level voice, instantly moving to Dawn and examining her bleeding neck. "Are you very badly damaged?"
The choice of words, along with the unique cadence of speech, returned Dawn's fantasy to the grave. This wasn't her older sister risen from the dead to save her. It was Buffybot. Still, the relief she felt was undiminished. That face still represented safety, comfort, and home, no matter who happened to be wearing it.
"I-I'm alright," Dawn said as she shook her head, even though she felt anything but. "Buffy... I'm so glad you found me." Dawn sobbed as she spoke, diving forward to wrap her arms around the robot. Dawn clung to her for several moments, though she could not help but notice the embrace remained unreciprocated, with no trace of Buffybot's usual affectionate fervour.
Instead, Buffy merely lifted her mechanically to her feet, grabbing her right wrist in a grip like a vice and began to tug her roughly through the woods.
Now the adrenaline of the moment was passing, Dawn felt light-headed. The jerky movements that pulled her along as Buffy yanked her through the woods only made her feel dizzy and nauseous, and she found the entire experience deeply unpleasant.
"Buffy..." Dawn began as she winced at another pull. "Buffy that hurts."
Dawn felt the grip loosen ever so slightly, but not nearly enough for Dawn to kid herself that she might be able to pull herself free.
Dawn tried again. "You... you don't have to drag me you know. You... you can let go – I'm not going to run off or anything."
Buffy did not so much as turn around. "No," she said firmly. "You could be lying. I have to get you home."
"Lying?!" Dawn protested, her voice catching in disbelief. "Buffy I'm not lying – why would you think..."
"Because you already did," Buffy explained, her voice sounding somehow coarser than Dawn had ever heard. "I could not tell then – so how could I now? I can't trust you."
Those words hit Dawn like a stone. The faint shadow of guilt which had followed Dawn from the house that evening now hung heavily around her neck. She hadn't just nearly thrown her life away for a boy who only wanted to use her, she had also broken the trust of someone she had tried to treat with consideration and respect, even when others didn't deem her worthy of it. Someone who thought of her as family.
Dawn did not complain again as they travelled. She merely allowed herself to be dragged mutely through the nocturnal landscape, lost in her own self-recriminations as they made their way towards the distant, familiar lights of home.
Chapter 15: Truth and Lies, Part One
Chapter Text
The house was silent. Dawn sat back, sinking slightly into the couch cushions as Buffy dabbed her wound with antiseptic. The bleeding had stopped, though the sterilised wound stung resentfully at Buffy's touch.
"Buffy... please, say something."
Buffy's face remained entirely expressionless, continuing her task robotically. "What would you like me to say?"
Dawn shifted uncomfortably. "Say... say I was stupid, say I'm a terrible person – just... please talk to me!"
Buffy frowned slightly, and she moved the cloth away from Dawn's neck.
"You lied to me. I am your sister – but you lied. You once told me that someone who I love can hurt me more easily than someone else. Is that why you did it?"
Dawn felt an ice cold sensation in her chest. "Buffy..."
"You knew that I would not want to upset Spike by allowing him to see me. That is why you told me what you did. You never wanted me to come."
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Dawn insisted. "I just..."
"Then why did you do that? Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong?"
"No..." Dawn said again, even more insistently. "It wasn't... it wasn't about you, it was just..."
The sound of slightly muffled voices outside of the window interrupted the conversation.
"Willow, it was wrong. I don't know why I can't make you see-"
"Tara, for the gazillionth time – it would have been fine! I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of this..."
"And if it hadn't been fine?" Tara countered. "Everybody makes mistakes Wil... and I don't think risking trapping a building full of people in another dimension is worth a little convenience!"
The door clicked open, and the two witches hurried into the hall.
"Just leave it, okay?" Willow requested in a weary voice. "We have to focus on finding Dawn."
"We should check to see if there are any messages," Tara advised. "And quickly check the house before we-"
"Buffy?" Willow exclaimed in surprise as she stepped into view of the living room, a mere moment before spotting Dawn on the couch in front of her. "Dawn?! Oh my God!"
The next few minutes were amongst the most humiliating of Dawn's life.
The relief at being saved had vanished with the uncomfortable silence between her and Buffybot, and now she just felt embarrassed and foolish. That feeling persisted as Tara checked over the state of her neck wound, the older girl asking a few cursory questions about how much blood she thought she had lost whilst Willow left a message for Xander and Anya on their answerphone.
When the time came to confess, Dawn couldn't bring herself to lie any longer. Seated at the dining room table with a mug of cocoa between her hands, she admitted to more or less everything. Dawn didn't go into some of the worst details about exactly what she, Janice, Zach and Justin had been up to prior to their drive to the woods, but she was fairly certain Willow and Tara deduced more than she would have liked, nonetheless.
"You were parking - in the woods, at night?!" Willow blurted incredulously. "With a vampire?"
"I... I didn't know he was a vampire," Dawn protested shakily. We'd just met, and-"
Dawn immediately regretted her choice of words. "Look, I know how that sounds but... but..." She desperately searched her mind for the right words, but none were forthcoming. She took a deep breath to steady herself, before starting again.
"I know what I did was stupid, and dangerous – and that I lied to Buffy..."
"You lied to all of us Dawn," Tara pointed out, and it was impossible to miss the disappointment in her soft voice. "You knew how we'd feel about what you were planning – so you kept it from us."
Dawn opened her mouth to speak, but Tara carried on regardless.
"I know we aren't your legal guardians Dawn – we can never replace your mother or Buffy, but we do try to take care of you. I'm not angry with you, but I think Willow and I are both-"
"Disappointed?" Dawn suggested blandly, her eyes in her lap.
"Try hurt," Willow countered. Unlike Tara, she did not seem devoid of anger. "Dawn, have you forgotten everything we went through last year!? Tara trapped in her own mind, Giles impaled, and Buffy... we lost her. All to keep you safe, all to give you a chance at..."
"A chance at what?" Dawn snapped, almost as surprised as the others at the words erupting from her lips. "A chance to just sit around here and pretend everything's great all the time?!"
Willow and Tara were clearly both taken aback by the sudden intensity of Dawn's outburst, glancing at one another in surprise and concern.
"You never let me do anything!" Dawn shouted, the dam of frustration bursting through her shame and shock. "I can't hang out after dark, I can't patrol with the rest of you! I just... go to the mall, or stay here and try to keep up with schoolwork! Sure, I know what I did tonight was reckless, and stupid and all kinds of wrong - but hey, at least it made me feel something, at least it made me forget for a while that I'm living in the same house my Mom died in, the one I live in with my sister's robot double – pretending everything's a-okay at every parent-teacher day with a smile stapled to my face!"
"Dawn..." Willow said, far more softly than before. "I didn't know you were feeling this way..."
Tara reached out a hand over the table, her face now a picture of compassion, but Dawn pulled her own down into her lap before their hands met.
Tara withdrew her hand reluctantly, clearly unsure what to say next. "Dawn, we know you've been through a lot tonight – but if you have any idea what happened to Janice, her mother is worried sick."
Dawn took a deep breath. "She ran off into the trees when we parked. Zach – one of the vampires chased after her." Her eyes widened as she finished, finally remembering the terrible truth. She jumped to her feet. "We need to stop him – he's going to try and make her a vampire!"
Tara got to her feet as well. "Dawn, slow down a second."
The next voice seemed to take them all by surprise. "Does Janice have red hair? Was she wearing a grey shirt?"
Buffybot had imitated Dawn and Tara in getting to their feet, and was now looking between the two women with a concerned expression on her face.
"Y-yeah," Dawn answered. "Why do you ask?"
Buffy's gaze moved between the three women's expectant faces for a moment before replying. "I think I saw her. Before I found Dawn."
"Where was she?" Dawn demanded impatiently. "Was she okay? Did you help her?"
"I was too late," Buffy admitted, the crushing words slowly forcing Dawn back into her chair. "I slew the vampire – but I didn't reach her in time. I'm sorry Dawn."
An involuntary moan escaped Dawn's lips, and her head fell forwards into her hands. Until this moment, Dawn had had cause to hope that perhaps she could leave tonight behind her, despite everything which had happened. There was no chance of that now. Her friend was dead.
Death seemed to stalk her wherever she went. Who would be next? Who else would leave her behind as the world continued to crumble around her ankles?
"I'm sorry Dawny," Willow consoled her with a sigh.
"I don't mean to be insensitive," Tara began cautiously, turning to face Buffy again. "But... D-do you think he managed to turn her?"
"I do not know," Buffy answered, her eyes lingering on Dawn. "There were no signs."
Willow nodded solemnly. "If Dawn's right about this – we'll need to catch her when she... yknow..."
Willow waggled her eyebrows suggestively, rubbing her palms together atop the table.
Dawn's hands fell from her face, blanching at what she was suggesting. There had to be another way. "No! No you can't!"
Losing her friend once tonight was terrible enough. Having her friends kill her again was unthinkable, vampire or not.
"Dawn, it's not her anymore," Willow reminded her gently. "You know that. If we just let her go, she'll just do what was done to her to someone else."
Tara nodded in solidarity with her partner. "It isn't fair – but it's the right thing to do."
Inspiration struck Dawn like a stake through the heart. "Why can't you just give Janice her soul back– like you did for Angel! That spell you did – it worked before, right? Buffy said so!"
Willow clasped her hands together, exchanging another look with Tara before answering. "I'm not even sure that's possible Dawn. With Angel, that door had already been opened once before – it was like... like stepping in someone else's footprints. And even if I could for Janice – I mean there's no guarantee how it would all turn out..."
"What do you mean?" Dawn demanded angrily, not able to believe they were trying to suggest they just kill her. "She'd have a soul – she wouldn't be evil!"
"A soul doesn't automatically make someone a good person Dawn," Willow explained. "It took Angel a whole hundred years of guilt over, well, another hundred years of evil - and even then it took meeting the love of his life before he really started to do any good. Janice wouldn't have any of that."
"She'd still have the demon in her," Tara added. "The hunger – and... I mean... where would she go? She'd probably have to shelter with the other vampires - who would probably either groom her or kill her – I mean... is that really the life she'd want? It's awful what happened. But I don't think forcing her to go on in this way is the right thing to do. At least this way, her body and spirit would both be at rest."
"We could look after her," Dawn countered. "She'd have me."
Dawn realised how silly the words sounded in her mouth. She may always have wanted to impress Janice, have spent time with her and enjoyed her company – but they weren't exactly the closest of friends. Compared with Buffy after she met Xander and Willow, well, there was no comparison. Would she really be capable of helping Janice through something like that?
"What, just keep her shut away in the basement?" Willow questioned. "Dawny, we're struggling to keep on top of everything as it is – let alone babysitting a new-born vampire..."
Dawn crossed her arms petulantly. "If it had been me – if I had been turned, would you do it then?"
A pained expression came onto Willow's face, her brow creasing uncomfortably as she presumably considered the implications of the question.
"That's not fair, Dawn." Tara answered, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Willow?"
They all turned to look at Buffy again, who was looking at the red-haired girl with a curious expression.
"Yeah Buffy?" Willow asked a little distractedly.
"Do I have a soul?"
The dining room fell silent.
All three of them seemed entirely dumbstruck by the unexpected question. Buffy's face was so earnest, so innocent – and what Dawn suspected was the only truthful answer seemed too awful to admit to her.
After a few moments, the silence had become suffocating.
"Sure you do, Buffy." Willow exclaimed cheerily, breaking the quiet with a nonchalant smile.
Tara shot her girlfriend a rather scandalised look, but said nothing. If it was possible, Dawn felt even worse than she had before.
She wasn't the only one who had lied to Buffybot tonight.
Buffy was alone again.
Dawn and Willow had retreated to their bedrooms, further discussion put on hold until they had all properly rested. Buffy however, remained at the dinner table for a while, lost within her thoughts. Tara's voice was faintly audible from the other room as she spoke on the phone.
There was still so much Buffy didn't understand. Her sister's lie, the things she had said at the table, and even her own role as the Slayer. She could sense Dawn’s distress, her pain from her expression, from the tone with which she spoke – but the things she had spoken of were beyond her ability to understand. Buffy continued to try and piece it together, but Dawn’s actions tonight still did not make sense to her.
Neither did Buffy's own. She was needed tonight - evil had to be challenged - but she hadn't been there. How many had been killed like Janice while she sat on the couch watching television? Was that what Giles would have wanted her to do? Perhaps if he had been here – he might have told her to patrol. Perhaps he too would have been able to help her understand Dawn's feelings, her Watcher had always taken the time to explain things to her before.
But then he left. And he didn't even say goodbye. Even when she had spoken to him by telephone mere days ago, he had not agreed to return. She didn't understand his reasons. Surely, she was his Slayer now – and he was her Watcher. Then why was he staying in England?
"Well..." Tara began in a tired voice, pausing Buffy's line of reasoning as she stepped into the room from the hall. "It's done. Janice's Mom is calling the police – as far as she knows Janice and Dawn were sneaking out into the woods tonight, but were attacked and got separated. It's not a lie, but..."
Tara meandered around the table, before seating herself on the chair beside Buffy. "It doesn't change anything. She's still going to hear that her daughter died tonight. I can't imagine how that feels..."
But it might have changed something, Buffy processed. If she had done her duty as the slayer and patrolled as usual.
"But hey," Tara said, forcing a smile under her tired eyes. "It was all so crazy earlier, I never really got the chance to thank you properly."
Buffy cocked her head to one side curiously. "Thank me for what?"
Tara smiled. "For finding Dawn so quickly, and for managing to bring her home safe. You did really well. Better than any of the rest of us."
Buffy found she could not return the smile. "It was my fault," she said finally. "Willow was right. If it wasn't for me – Dawn would never have been in danger. I am supposed to protect her!"
"Buffy, I told you, it's not your fault." Tara insisted. "Willow and I didn't think that Dawn would try anything like this either – in fact, it's pretty clear that Dawn needs a lot more support than we've been giving her all-round. Maybe even some counselling."
"Like a Watchers' Council?" Buffy asked earnestly, remembering the name Giles had mentioned all that time ago.
Tara shook her head with a kind expression. "No, not like that. More like... someone to talk to, about everything she's going through?"
Buffy frowned. "Why can't she talk to you?"
Tara smiled warmly at the question, but then shook her head sadly. "I'm not a trained professional Buffy. I think I can understand some of what Dawn is going through; I went through it myself, after my mother died. But I'm not sure I can help her through everything."
Tara sighed. "Problem is of course, she can't tell anyone else what she's really feeling – not exactly. If anyone found out what happened to Buffy... I mean, the other Buffy-"
"They would take Dawn away." Buffy finished.
The thought brought back the terrible image of what she had thought of as Dawn's body on the ground. Who would protect her if they took her away?
Tara nodded solemnly. When Buffy did not say anything else, the witch peered at her curiously.
"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Tara asked, the question hanging in the air for a moment. "You seem a little... distracted, tonight."
There was a slight pause as Buffy gathered her thoughts. Her gaze moved away from Tara, staring into space as the memory files replayed behind her eyes.
"When I first saw the body in the woods – I thought that it was Dawn."
"Oh..." Tara remarked with a frown. Buffy didn't alter her gaze, still lost in that terrible moment.
"I saw her lying there. She was so still. Not moving. When I saw it, I could not function properly. I could not seem to move my eyes from her. I just knew."
"Knew what?" Tara inquired gently.
"I knew it was my fault." Buffy answered, coming back to the present and turning back to face the girl beside her. "I had failed to protect her. My sister."
A look of surprise passed across Tara's face. "Buffy, that's not..."
She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before reaching out a hand and placing it gently on Buffy's arm. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. But Dawn is safe – we all are, alright?"
Buffy shook her head insistently. "She lied to me – and I could not tell. How do I know she won't lie again? How do I know that anything that she says is true? How will I stop this happening again?"
Tara looked thoughtful for a moment. “Buffy... when trust is broken, it's never easy to rebuild. But trust me, Dawn loves you – she still loves you. I've seen how she looks out for you, how she acts when you're together. What she did was wrong, but that hasn't changed. What happened tonight was about her, not you."
"I love her too," Buffy said. "She is my sister. I want to keep her safe, and happy. "But if she lies again..." Buffy hesitated. "I still do not think I would be prepared."
Tara looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well... none of us can always be sure. But if... if you ever think something sounds a little strange – maybe try thinking about motive? Why might someone lie to you, yknow? Tonight, Dawn lied because she wanted to do something she knew we wouldn't approve of. She was acting out, because she's feeling a lot of unprocessed grief, and that she doesn't have control over her own life."
Buffy considered for a moment, accessing several past conversations from her own memory files. "Willow tells me things sometimes. When she doesn't want me to worry. I think they are not always true."
A strange look crossed Tara's face for a moment, and she suddenly seemed rather pale. "What kinds of things, Buffy?"
There was a knock at the door.
Tara jumped slightly in surprise, before frowning. "It's a little late for trick or treaters..."
They both rose from the table, Buffy leading the way to the front door. She gazed through the tiny eyehole, feeling a familiar sensation in her circuits. Sure enough, Spike was standing on the other side of the door, his face slightly bruised and battered and the shirt beneath his leather coat was dirty and torn. Buffy immediately pulled the door open, an involuntary grin leaping to her face, and the vampire stepped inside without hesitation.
"Dawn here?" He asked brusquely.
"Dawn's in bed," Tara explained, shooting him a disapproving glance as he barrelled past Buffy to stand face to face with her instead. "Did you get away alright?"
"Get away?" Spike parroted back at her as he scratched the back of his neck, clearly offended by the notion. "Gave those wanna-be's a damn good thrashing is what I did. Strutting about on Halloween... disgraceful." He shook his head. "Anyway, just glad Niblet's alright-"
Spike paused, his face suddenly wary. "She told you what happened then, did she?"
"She did," Tara answered plainly. "Thank you for stepping in – if you hadn't found her, well... you know what might have happened."
"Yeah, well. Just a good thing I was passing by. I'll be off then." Spike moved towards the door, before Tara called out.
"Spike?"
He stopped, turning back to look at Tara with another cautious expression. "Yeah?"
"I just wondered, why exactly were you 'passing by', yknow, considering that it's Halloween?"
"Happy coincidence is all," Spike insisted casually, though his eyes still seemed wary. "Overheard the vamps passing by my crypt, decided to investigate."
Tara crossed her arms, unimpressed. "They passed by your crypt... only Dawn said they were driving? That must have been some... pretty crazy driving."
Spike was still for a moment, before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Alright – fine. I overheard the Little Bit making her plans the other night. Decided to keep an eye on her – and lucky for you I did."
"Why did you not tell us?" Buffy asked, the first time she had spoken since Spike's arrival. He had known what Dawn was doing, he knew about the lie – but why would he not inform her family?
Spike seemed inclined to ignore the question, but Tara narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms sternly. "I'd like you to answer her, Spike."
"Well," Spike began defensively, clearly taken aback somewhat by Tara's newfound assertiveness. "It's not exactly like you lot have the best track record so far of keeping Dawn safe from harm, is it? Even when big sis was still around, she had a knack for wandering off and getting herself into the worst kinds of trouble... Thought it would be better at least if I knew what she was doing, rather than ratting her out just for her to try something else none of us expected..."
Buffy felt the feelings return. Feelings of failure. Feelings that she would never be exactly.
When neither Buffy nor Tara replied, Spike pressed on. "Look, to be quite frank - you've got your ways of lookin' out for Dawn, and I've got mine," Spike insisted. "So why don't we just leave each other to it, right?"
Tara did not seem placated. "Spike, if something like this happens again, I don't want you keeping it from us. You should know - even after you interceded tonight – Dawn still got bitten. If Buffy hadn't got there in time, she'd be dead. Or worse."
Spike glanced at Buffy for a moment, looking faintly regretful. "Right, well. If I hear anything..."
And with that, Spike opened the front door again, striding rapidly down the path away from the house, before his long coat melded with the colours of the night.
Tara closed the door behind him, letting out a deep breath. "I'm going to turn in. Are you happy to shut yourself down again tonight?"
Buffy smiled contentedly. "Yes – I can do that."
"Alright then. Goodnight!"
With that, Tara turned and began to climb the stairs.
Buffy paused for a moment, a sudden thought coming to her from their earlier conversation.
"Tara?"
Tara paused on the stairs, turning to face Buffy with a surprised expression. "Yes Buffy?"
"Was there anything you wished to talk about?"
Tara looked at Buffy curiously. "How do you mean?"
"Earlier – you and Willow, you were fighting. I have never seen you do that before."
"Oh..." Tara breathed, her brow furrowing in concern. "You heard all that. Oh."
Buffy nodded.
"It's umm..." Tara began, her eyes darting between Buffy and the floor. "It's kind of you to ask Buffy, but that's really something for Willow and I to work out. Personal stuff, yknow?"
"I would not be able to help." Buffy said simply. It was not a question.
Seeming to sense something of the defeat in her, Tara came back down the stairs, bringing herself down to Buffy's level.
"It's magic," Tara said, causing Buffy to cock her head to one side pensively. "Willow's been using too much magic."
Buffy didn't know what to make of that statement. "But she is a witch. Witches do use magic."
"Yes..." Tara conceded. "But there are certain things that magic should and shouldn't be used for. It's umm... well, like your strength and speed."
Buffy did not follow the comparison. "How do you mean?"
"Well, if you used your strength to umm... win a boxing competition, or your speed to win a race against other people. It's abusing your power, see?"
Buffy considered this. "Because those who are not the Slayer could not do those things. It would be wrong?"
Tara nodded emphatically. "Exactly. And also – with magic, things can go wrong... very wrong. Earlier tonight, when we were at the Bronze, Willow was about to shift everyone there into another dimension to try and look for Dawn. There could have been terrible consequences."
"Like what?" Buffy asked sincerely.
"Any number of things," Tara explained with a shake of her head. "They might not have come back – or they might have come back, except... different, or hurt or God knows what. I would never even attempt a spell like that unless I had time to properly prepare – and not unless there was good reason for it. Magic shouldn't be just a shortcut to make things easier."
Tara let out a deep sigh. "Magic comes so naturally to Willow... she has so much power, and I'm just... I'm afraid what she's going to do with it, sometimes. What it's going to do to her."
Recognising the distress on Tara's face, Buffy reached out a hand, placing it on Tara's arm in the same fashion the witch had done with her in the dining room.
"It will be alright," Buffy assured her. "Willow loves you. I'm sure you can make her understand. You are very good at explaining things."
Tara's expression changed from melancholy to gratitude, and her lips turned upwards in a magical smile. She placed her hand atop Buffy's for a moment, squeezing it gently.
"Goodnight." Tara said, before heading towards the stairs once more. "Don't stay up too late – you'll want to be all charged up for tomorrow's patrol."
Buffy nodded contentedly. "I won't."
In order to best prove the point, Buffy fell in behind Tara on the stairs. She would think more on the night's events – but not until tomorrow.
Chapter 16: Truth and Lies, Part Two
Chapter Text
Buffy stepped into her darkened bedroom, closing the door gently behind her. She crossed to her wardrobe beside the bed, removing the precious red slaying jacket that Spike had given her, and hanging it neatly within. She had just closed the cupboard door however, when she noticed an unexpected shadow huddled against the wall.
"Dawn," Buffy realised aloud as she identified the figure, sat on the floor with her legs pulled up to her chest. "Why are you not sleeping?"
Dawn seemed to shiver slightly. "I can't sleep – I tried. But I just couldn't stop thinking… about everything that happened."
Buffy considered Dawn for a moment, still wary of a lie. And yet, Buffy recognised the expression on Dawn's face, and noted how closely her words reflected her own state. She too had struggled, wrestled with everything which had unfolded tonight, lost in the confusion and the complexities, relating not just to the events themselves – but to her own actions. Perhaps Dawn was feeling that same dissonance.
"I understand."
Dawn lifted her downcast face to look at Buffy, a pleading look in her eyes. "Can I stay with you tonight?"
Buffy was taken aback. Before, Dawn had lied to her and left her – but now she wanted to stay? The simple joy the prospect brought her was difficult to put aside, even despite the hurt and mistrust the night had fostered between them.
"Is that what you want? To be with me?"
Dawn nodded, her face still somewhat haunted, sorrow etched into her darkened features. "I come here sometimes – when you're asleep. It makes things feel... okay, just for a little while."
Buffy tried to apply what Tara had told her – to search for a motive for a lie. She could not find one.
"Then you can stay," Buffy decided, crossing the room and holding out a hand to help Dawn to her feet. Her sister took it with a grateful smile. Buffy enjoyed the sensation of touch between them.
A few moments later, Dawn had settled herself on the bed, while Buffy sat on the far end, opening her access panel and attaching her power cable. Then, after carefully removing her shoes and neatly arranging them against the wall, she scooted herself backwards towards the head of the bed, lying back so that her head was placed perfectly upon the centre of her pillow. Dawn rearranged herself as Buffy moved into place, lowering her head onto Buffy's shoulder and nestling her body against her. Buffy thought she saw some of the tension fade from her face as her breathing slowed, her eyes blinking slowly and wearily.
After a few moments, Dawn reached a hand down to the cable protruding out from Buffy's torso, running her index finger along its surface. "What does that feel like?"
Buffy thought for a moment. "It feels like I am recharging my batteries."
A dissatisfied sound resonated in Dawn's throat.
"I am sorry," Buffy apologised, "I think there are many things that you feel, that I am not able to."
Dawn opened her eyes, looking at Buffy expectantly. "What do you mean?"
Buffy turned her face to her sister, searching for the right words. "I feel... happy when I am with you, or any of my friends. I feel… satisfaction when I assist them, when I make breakfast, or when I successfully slay. I feel... not happy when I cannot help, or I upset my friends. Or when I feel I have not completed my duties successfully. I used to feel many things when Spike was pleased to see me."
She frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "But there are other times when I do not know what I feel. And I do not understand what you are feeling – the things you said tonight. I was not programmed to understand these things. Anger. Grief. Pain. They are different. Less simple. But I want to understand. I want to help you. But I don't know if I can."
"But you want to help me," Dawn replied, after a moment. "It doesn't matter if you always get what I'm talking about. You listen to me."
"Yes," Buffy agreed. "I listen. Even if I can't understand."
They were both quiet for a few minutes, neither feeling the need to speak. Despite everything that had happened between them tonight, Dawn's presence gave Buffy a sense of joy quite unlike anything else. She felt very close to her, she felt more complete. She knew that Dawn was safe with her, and that this was where Buffy was meant to be.
Buffy lifted her arm, moving her hand towards the concealed switch at the back of her neck, preparing to shut down until morning.
"Can you wait a minute?" Dawn asked quietly. "Just until I fall asleep. Can you stay?"
Buffy lay her arm back down by her side, looking at Dawn quizzically. "I can stay."
Dawn nuzzled contentedly against her, adjusting her position once again. She murmured a single, sleepy phrase:
"Goodnight Buffy."
"Sweet dreams," Buffy replied automatically, before her mind began to ponder what such dreams might feel like, rather than the disorienting shift her own shutdown entailed.
She waited several minutes, listening to the gentle sound of Dawn's breathing until her senses informed her that she had likely fallen into unconsciousness. Then Buffy reached for her neck again, and the world fizzled out of existence.
Willow neatly cut the envelope as she settled down on the couch, preparing to face the next relentless bill within. Of all the demands for payment which regularly invaded their mailbox, she could be grateful at least that the phone bill tended to be the least obtrusive.
Everything seemed fairly ordinary. Willow's gaze half-heartedly descended the list of logged calls, her mind drifting onto whether she could devise a spell to make this whole process quicker. She read one line, drifted on to the next but then immediately went back again once she saw the cost of a certain recorded call.
"Tara?!" Willow called out, and within a few moments the pitter-patter of her girlfriend's footsteps came flying down the stairs.
"Yes sweetie?" She asked, her face a question.
"Have you spoken to Giles recently?"
"N-no," Tara replied, frowning thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"
"The phone bill came today. It says someone placed a call to England and spoke for a few minutes. I mean, if anyone had spoken to Giles… I'd kinda expect to hear about it at least."
"You're right," Tara replied, nodding in agreement. "It wasn't me though." Tara crossed the room to the base of the stairs, craning her head towards the landing.
"Dawn!?" She called out. "Did you call Mr. Giles recently?"
A resounding 'no' came buffeting down the stairs, a moment before Dawn herself followed, her school backpack lazily draped over one shoulder. Despite offering to allow her to stay home after what happened the night before – Dawn had shut the idea down on the spot. Willow couldn't exactly blame her. She herself had thrown herself into schoolwork on more than one occasion to escape some of the terrifying things that she had experienced over the years since Buffy Summers arrived at Sunnydale High.
"We'll send Buffy to pick you up from school, okay?" Tara off-handedly informed the younger girl as she reached to open the front door.
A momentary look of knowing suspicion passed across Dawn's face, before it fell into a resigned acceptance. "Kay. See ya."
Both Tara and Willow smiled and waved, and a moment later the front door swung closed with a firm clunk.
"Huh," Willow mumbled discontentedly, glancing back at the letter under her nose. "Well… if it wasn't us, and it wasn't Dawn, I mean you don't think Xander or Anya might have…"
"I can't really see Xander calling Giles just to chat, sweetie. And it's not like Anya to spend money all willy-nilly?"
"It wasn't her money…" Willow pointed out cynically, narrowing her murky green eyes and lifting her eyebrows knowingly.
Just then, Buffybot emerged from the kitchen, striding up to the couch with apparent purpose.
"Oh. Hi Buffy," Willow greeted her with a friendly smile. "How ya doin?"
"Hello Willow! Hi Tara." Buffybot responded, rotating entirely as she turned to speak to each woman in turn, another apt demonstration of how comically limited her social skills remained, even after countless tinkering and re-programmings Willow had diligently undertaken to improve her. "I am very well. Dawn and I are going to watch TV again tonight! I am very excited."
Tara and Willow exchanged a glance.
"It's nice you two made up," Tara encouraged her kindly, before a rather uncomfortable pause descended. "Do you need anything? Were you damaged at all last night?"
"No!" Buffy assured her amiably. "I heard you talking. From the kitchen!"
"Oh," Willow remarked, slightly relieved by the lack of any new disasters being added to the mix. "Well, its nothing you need to worry about Buff… Just more 'money stuff'"
Buffy's eyes widened with enthusiasm. "But I can help!"
"You can?" Both Tara and Willow asked simultaneously.
"Yes Tara, Willow. I know who called Giles."
"You do?" Willow asked, her voice no less sceptical.
"I do," Buffy confirmed, nodding emphatically with her usual plastic grin. "It was me. I called Giles."
Willow froze, staring at Buffybot in disbelief.
"You were?" Tara questioned cautiously, turning to look at Willow for a moment.
"Yes," Buffy repeated. "A few days ago. When I was here on my own."
"Buffy!" Willow spluttered, finally able to find her voice after being completely blindsided by the robot's admission. "I know I told you to stay away from the phone!"
Buffy could seemingly detect the hurt in her friend's voice. The self-assurance that was so typical of the bot seemed to waver ever so slightly. "I know. I am very sorry Willow. But I needed to speak to Giles – and England is very far away."
"Why would you-" Willow began, before Tara put a hand on her thigh.
"Did you want to say goodbye?" Tara asked softly, to Willow's surprise.
Buffy nodded again. "Yes. And I wanted to ask him to come back."
"Why?" Willow blurted out.
"Because I need him," Buffy explained earnestly.
"You... need him." Willow repeated, trying to put the pieces together in her mind. "Is this about Dawn? You don't think we can look after her?"
"I did not say that," Buffy assured her. "But he is my Watcher. He teaches me things. About being the Slayer, and how to fight, and-"
"Yeah, Buffy we know that..." Willow said, her patience thinning slightly. "But why do you think you need him right now?"
Buffy was silent for a moment, and for a moment Willow was willing to put the whole thing up to a malfunction. But then she spoke again.
"I am not a very good Slayer."
The simple statement hung in the air for a moment.
"That's not true," Tara replied calmly. "Buffy you've done better than we ever could have expected..."
"I am glad you think so," Buffy replied. "Dawn says that she thinks so as well. But I don't think I agree."
The convivial manner with which Buffybot related these self-deprecating statements was almost unnerving.
"Well Buffy," Willow began carefully. "If you have any suggestions for your programming – why don't ya just let me know? That sort of thing is for me to worry about, remember?"
"And you have done a very good job Willow," Buffy assured her. "You are my best friend, and you are very smart. But I have been missing patrols – I should have known to patrol last night – and I should have worked out what happened at the construction site, and at the Magic Box-"
"We're working on that Buffy," Willow interrupted, before the robot could doubtlessly continue to list minor examples for the next several minutes.
"But I am the Slayer! The Chosen One. One girl in all the world. I think I should be doing more. And... I think that Giles might be able to help me with Dawn."
"With Dawn?" Tara probed carefully. "I thought you two were making progress?"
"We are," Buffy insisted. "She stayed with me last night. But I want to understand what she is feeling – and I do not think I am able."
"Buffy... That's all pretty complicated stuff," Willow pointed out, exchanging a pointed look with Tara. "I don't think you can be expected to get your head around it."
"Giles always taught me as if I was human," Buffy pointed out, keen to press her point. "I liked his teachings. Even if I didn't understand. I want to try. Please."
"Okay," Willow agreed. "I'll... I'll see what I can do. If, yknow, I have some time with everything that's going on. But if you really want to help Dawn – we just need you to keep an eye on her. Just... just meet her at school today and make sure she gets home, okay?"
"Of course!" Buffy happily affirmed. "But can I ask you a question?"
Willow nodded, though in all honesty she wished this conversation could be over, and that she could go back to solving the real issues rather than humouring Buffybot's lack of self-awareness.
"Why did Giles leave? Why is his place in England now – and if that is true, why do I not have another Watcher?"
"Because Giles decided you didn't need another Watcher," Willow answered simply.
"Why is that?"
Willow sighed, reaching into her brain to try and present an explanation that the robot might be able to accept. "Look, Buffy – Past Slayers were usually always... alone. They had a Watcher to guide them, but they fought demons and vampires by themselves. But that's not how it is here. We're a unit – we're a team. The Scooby gang, remember?"
Buffy frowned thoughtfully. "I think I understand."
"Good," Willow said with a sigh of relief. "Is it alright if you leave us to it for a while – Tara and I kinda have to figure out how exactly we're gonna cover the latest financial crisis..."
Buffy nodded. "Of course. Is there anything else I can do to help?"
Willow shook her head. "Since Anya's made it pretty clear she doesn't want any more temporal disturbances at the Magic Box... until we find ya another job there isn't much to do Buffy."
Buffy's face fell slightly for just a moment, before regaining her smile. "I will go and wait upstairs then. Goodbye, Willow, Tara."
With that, Buffy made her way towards the stairs, before rising steadily out of sight. Willow reached for the bill again.
Tara twiddled her fingers pensively. "Yknow at some point – you're going to have to stop lying to her."
"Lying?" Willow questioned, taken aback by her girlfriend's sudden accusation. "I wouldn't call what I said a lie exactly... Just a umm… different - but still entirely accurate - explanation of why Giles isn't coming back..."
Tara sighed, shifting uneasily on the couch. "Maybe this time – but Willow..." She glanced towards the stairs, listening for a moment as if to check that Buffybot was out of earshot. "You told her she had a soul last night."
Willow dropped the bill again, resigned to the painful discussion continuing on. "What else was I supposed to say? 'Oh no Buffy – I didn't find the time to program one into you – maybe tomorrow?' "
"No..." Tara replied. "But I don't think just deflecting her questions isn't working so well anymore – and I don't think it's the right thing to do, either."
"What do you mean?"
"Well..." Tara considered. "Last night she told me she thought that sometimes you just tell her things to make her feel better."
Willow's eyes widened at that.
"And after last night... Willow, you didn't see how betrayed she felt after Dawn tricked her into letting her go out. I just think that we should try explaining some of these things to her gently – rather than waiting until she works it out on her own and she never trusts us again!"
"Who says she will?" Willow countered, shaking her head as if to disperse this line of thinking. "Tara, don't you think you're taking this all a little too seriously? This is Buffybot we're talking about, remember? Look, I can fix this, easy. The next time I open her up, I'll just erase the memory files from last night, and-"
"You'll what?!" Tara snapped, pulling away from her with a horrified expression and causing Willow to jerk in surprise.
"I'll... erase the memory files from last night," Willow explained again, thinking Tara must just have misheard. "Then she won't be confused about Dawn, and she'll go back to being our normal, silly Buffybot."
"Willow," Tara said breathlessly. "How can you think that's even okay? Just... erasing her memories?"
"Alright..." Willow conceded, utterly confused by Tara's reaction. "Well – I've been thinking I might have to start her programming over from scratch anyway..."
"And what does that mean exactly?" Tara questioned, traces of indignation still in her tone.
"Look, I've been thinking the whole thing over for a while now," Willow explained in a level voice, trying to prevent any escalation as she placed her hand atop Tara's. "And after what we just heard... Buffybot, she's getting a little too... unpredictable. I wasn't worried so much when it was just quirky little things, but now? Tara, she's started doing things we've expressly told her not to do! Wandering around at night, phoning Giles? We can't take the risk she'll do something else, something worse – and risk losing Dawn. Especially when Dawn is... so fragile right now."
"Willow, where are you going with this?" Tara asked, more softly this time.
Willow felt her posture relax slightly. "I'm just talking about starting to rebuild her programming from the bottom up. No biggie. Honestly, there's been problems with her from the start – just ask Spike about his 'washboard abs' if you want an earful about it. If I start over – I might be able to stop these... little glitches from happening all over again."
"Little glitches?" Tara asked, sounding unconvinced. "That's what you think this is?"
Willow blinked. "Of course I do – it's like you said, that night at the Magic Box when I altered her programming, she wasn't designed to handle a lot of the things we've been asking her to do. Some malfunctions were inevitable. I mean, what else could it be?"
"Sweetie..." Tara began, looking more pitying than frustrated now. "You're right. It's pretty clear Buffybot was designed with only one thing in mind; pleasing Spike – maybe with a little slaying thrown in. And yes, we've asked so much of her Willow. We've asked her to be a sister to Dawn, to be a Slayer to the world…. We've asked her to become everything that Buffy was! We keep giving her these extra programs and responsibilities, and now she seems to want to grow into them – make some decisions for herself. You gave her that ability but… we haven't really let her use it. We still control everything she does, lay down blanket rules to stop her making mistakes… And now we're talking about erasing all the progress she's made, taking away everything that makes her – her. It's not right Willow..."
"Tara, Baby…" Willow cooed softly, moving her free hand to cup her partner's face softly. "She's just a robot. A whole lotta 1's and 0's yknow?"
Tara just shook her head. "Maybe that's how she started, but I don't think it's as simple as that anymore. She may not be Buffy – but she's not just a machine either. She's… growing, and changing and experiencing the world, and I think... I think she's becoming more and more aware of her limitations, and that's really hard on her..."
Willow had had enough. She had done her best to humour Tara and Dawn when it came to the Bot, but this was just getting out of hand. Willow had spent more time with Buffybot than anyone than most likely her creator. She knew every line of code, every circuit – she had shaped her current software, and welded her hardware together more times than she ever could have predicted. But suddenly Dawn and Tara were suddenly becoming convinced that she was something else entirely. They interpreted errors and mistakes that Willow had made, her failures – and tried to use it to make a case that a robot designed to boink Spike was somehow on the verge of sentience.
Couldn't they see that it was her who had put the effort into shaping Buffybot?
Couldn't they see it was her who needed her support, not the mindless robot?
"Why are you fighting me on this?" Willow demanded, genuinely frustrated by Tara's unwillingness to trust her on just about anything these days. "First magic, now this? Why are you never on my side anymore?"
Tara's expression became stony in response. "It's not about sides! And I'm starting to think it's all part of the same thing."
"Excuse me?"
Tara stiffened. "I'm saying that whenever anything gets rough… you don't even think about it anymore. You just make it disappear, whether it's doing a spell, shutting down a conversation – or erasing the memories of someone who trusts you."
"No!" Willow cried defiantly. "No it's not like that!"
"Isn't it?"
"Not with this – don't you get it, I can fix her Tara. Don't you get it? It's my fault!"
That seemed to get Tara's attention. "What do you mean?"
Willow closed her eyes. "In the graveyard, when we tried to bring Buffy back… she led the demons to the grave just at the moment I could feel the ritual working – I could feel that Buffy was about to come back, but..."
There were tears stinging her eyes now, and she felt the first streams flowing down her cheeks.
"She didn't. Don't you see Tara – I programmed her wrong, and Buffy never came back! I couldn't fix her – and I can't fix that mistake – but I can fix Buffybot now! I can make her better, better for Dawn, better for everyone!"
Willow continued to sob for a few moments, before she felt Tara's hand on her cheek, and the feeling of her thumb wiping away the tears.
"Oh Willow..." Tara breathed, her previous anger having entirely vanished. "It's not your job to fix every problem."
"I have to," Willow sobbed. "Everyone put me in charge – I have to be strong!"
Willow felt Tara take her hands in hers. "You know that isn't true, Wil. You said it just now – to Buffy. You're not alone. We're a team."
And just like that – everything seemed to be alright again.
In one of Sunnydale's many densely populated cemeteries, a battle was raging. Flurries of blows and kicks were being exchanged, spells flew through the air, and sharp stakes struck for the hearts of the freshly risen.
"All you've gotta do is get her attention," Warren explained as he moved into position behind the bushes, a laptop folded in the crook of his arm. "Just run out there – wave your arms around and make some noise!"
"I don't know man," Jonathan reticently replied, lowering his eyes from the oversized binoculars. "It doesn't look like she's alone out there..."
"Then we just have to separate her from the others," Warren explained, as though he were speaking to a toddler. "Then we just hit the robot with the electro-rod, and it'll put enough volts through her to put her out for the count! It should give us at least a few minutes – and that's all I need to copy over her system files."
"If she really is a robot," Jonathan remarked. "I'm still not entirely convinced by this Warren..."
"How else would you explain everything I've told you – everything you've seen for yourself? You saw her in the Magic Shop, she couldn't help a single customer!"
"That's not a certainty," Andrew remarked sagely, nodding as he lowered his eyes from his own absurdly large binoculars. "After all, she is very blonde. Very blonde indeed..."
Warren and Jonathan both stared at Andrew in disbelief.
Andrew ran a suddenly self-conscious hand through his own straw-coloured locks. "I was only saying... Anyway, I still think taser-blade is a better name."
"You invent the cool weapon – you get to name it dork," Warren chided him. "Now we just have to wait for the right moment..."
They all waited in silence for several seconds, watching the distant figures leaping, striking and kicking, roaring and crying out. There were flashes of light flying from finger tips, and the occasional clouds of dust falling to the ground.
Warren cleared his throat. "Okay, waiting isn't working out."
"Well," Jonathan murmured, "What else do you-"
Warren cupped one hand around his mouth, before taking a deep breath. "HELP! DEMON – HELP!"
Andrew and Jonathan stared at Warren as if he'd lost his mind.
"What are you doing?!" Jonathan hissed.
"I'm getting their attention," Warren replied calmly, flexing his eyebrows with a cocky smile.
Andrew didn't look reassured. "And if they catch us?"
"Then we play it cool – and say we saw a demon. We're all Sunnydale High Alumni remember? The Slayer's old henchmen should know that we all know about what goes bump in the night..."
The two other boys nodded their heads nervously.
"Yeah Wil, I thought it came from over here."
The Trio froze. Though the voice was clearly male, none of them had spoken.
"Can't see anything now though..." the voice of Xander Harris said again, his form now barely visible to Warren through the mass of foliage in front of him. He didn't seem to be talking to someone visible, so Warren guessed he had an earpiece of some kind. All the better.
Warren grabbed Jonathan's arm, mouthing the world 'Glamour' with exaggerated movements until the smaller boy fumbled around in his bag for his magic bone. He murmured a short incantation – and Jonathan was gone, replaced by an enormous, hulking demon. His skin was as blood, red and covered in grotesque veins, and two gnarled, curly horns erupted from his forehead. He now stood at least nine feet tall, and at the end of those tree-like legs were massive equine hooves.
"Nice..." Warren muttered as the Demon clamoured through the bush, twigs cracking and snapping in protest.
Warren watched with a fascinated glee, his heart hammering in his chest with thrilled anticipation. Stupendously, Harris hadn't seen the demon yet. He had turned to look back towards the main cemetery, twirling a large axe in his hands.
"Oh," he remarked with a gulp, rather understating the situation. "Nevermind Wil..."
"Beware mortal!" Jonathan roared, in a voice that could not have been more different to his own. "You should flee from me now... lest you want a taste of my power..."
"I think it is you who will be doing the tasting," Another voice called out, high and clear. A grin spread across Warren's face.
It was her.
Now they only had to get rid of Harris, and everything would fall into place.
"You take Harris," Warren hissed to Andrew. "I've got the robot."
"SLAYER!" The demon Jonathan boomed. "I HAVE HEARD TELL OF YOUR STRENGTH... THE LEGENDS SAY IT IS GREAT INDEED..."
"THANK YOU!" The robot shouted back, bizarrely adjusting her volume to match the demon. "BUT I MUST SLAY YOU NOW!"
A moment later, Harris lifted the two-handed axe above his head, swinging wildly towards the demon's neck. The weapon of course, merely passed through the glamoured illusion, though the demon stumbled backwards covering its face, Jonathan's cowardly mannerisms leaking through into his monstrous disguise.
He attempted to recover quickly, coughing once into his taloned hand before raising himself to his full height once again. "BEHOLD... UHH, BEHOLD HOW YOUR MORTAL WEAPONS CANNOT EVEN SCRATCH MY MAJESTY... FLEE PUNY ONES – IF YOU DO STILL WISH TO LIVE..."
Warren quickly realised they wouldn't get a better chance. He gave the signal, and both boys charged out from their hiding place, heading in opposite directions. Just as Harris swung his axe ineffectually through the demon's illusory neck, Andrew jabbed the electro-rod into his lower back. Harris let out a brief shout of pain before he collapsed. The sound distracted the robot for the briefest of moments, and Warren did not waste the opportunity. He thrust his own rod towards her, only for the robot's arm to shoot out and grab the shaft at the last moment. Warren reacted in panic, his thumb clenching the button on the rod's handle and sending the maximum charge pulsing through it.
The Slayer began to violently convulse. Her head jerked around to face Warren, but it was impossible to tell whether she was capable of seeing anything at that point. A moment later, she toppled to the ground, flopping around limply on the grass like a fish out of water.
"Alright – cover me," Warren instructed curtly, pulling the mask from his face and lowering his laptop onto the grass before reaching feverishly for the downed girl's torso. When he found the seam of the access port, his lips curled upwards in a triumphant smile. As ever – he had been correct.
He plugged his USB into the access port, and immediately began the process.
"Come on come on..." Warren murmured impatiently, knowing any moment the Slayer's friends could put everything at risk.
Out of the corner of his eye, Warren saw Jonathan slithering back towards his normal form. "Man, I can't believe that worked..."
"That came through in your performance," Warren snarked as he typed, beginning the process of file transfer. It wouldn't take long now.
"I think they're coming over," Andrew whimpered. "The rest of Buffy's gang."
"Then keep them busy," Warren hissed. "I only need a few more seconds!"
"Oh uhh... Oh thank God!" Jonathan struggled to exclaim, as Andrew positioned himself strategically in front of Warren, mostly blocking him from view.
"Xander?!" Willow Rosenberg's voice asked, getting to one knee and gently pressing her hand against one soldier.
"He's okay," Jonathan blurted. "Just unconscious – I think."
"Jonathan?" Willow asked in surprise. "And..."
"Andrew," said Andrew. "Tucker's brother."
Willow nodded in recognition. "Oh, right."
The transfer was complete. Warren quickly removed the cable, closing the robot's access port with a rapid movement of his hand, before tucking the laptop under his arm again.
"What are you doing?" Rosenberg asked with a frown, noticing Warren for the first time.
"I... I don't think she's breathing," Warren blurted, calling out the first thing that came to his head. "Should I start CPR? I think you should call 911."
The effect was precisely what Warren had wanted. He immediately saw the wary look in Rosenberg's eyes, and another briefly she exchanged with the girl beside her.
"We'll handle it," Willow said firmly. "You three should really get out of here – before anything else big and bumpy decides to pay you a visit."
Warren nodded in feigned agreement, grabbing Andrew by the arm and beginning to pull him towards the edge of the graveyard. "You heard her. Come on!"
"Umm… I hope your friends are okay." Jonathan mumbled awkwardly, before turning to follow them towards where their van had been cunningly hidden.
Warren felt a sense of elation that only ever came from another successful mission. It had gone off better than he ever could have hoped. Rosenberg was far too busy trying to hide the fact that her precious 'Slayer' wasn't human to inquire what the three of them were doing out in the cemetery – and come the morning they'd probably just shrug it off as one of a thousand strange occurrences that happened in Sunnydale every time the sun went down.
For now, he had a copy of the robot's entire operating system. All it would take was a few days to analyse exactly how the Slayer's little friends had changed her programming - if anyone was capable of replicating his own unique brand of genius - and then he could prepare the perfect little surprise.
Things were truly looking up for the Trio.
Chapter 17: Truth and Lies, Part Three
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Can you hear me, Buffy?"
Buffy's eyes snapped open.
Above her was a circle of faces, all looking down on her with varying amounts of concern.
"My friends," Buffy exclaimed, her lips spreading into a wide grin. "Yes, I can hear you."
Willow let out an audible sigh of relief, holding out a hand to help the robot to her feet. "Well, that's something. Do you remember what happened?"
Buffy took the hand gratefully, manoeuvring herself carefully back to her feet as the other scoobies moved to make space. Buffy's brow creased in concentration. "There was a large demon – we fought, and then..." she paused, running through her memory files again. The last several seconds were a disjointed, incomprehensible mess of movement, static and errors.
"Something attacked Xander," Buffy explained slowly, "Not the big demon. It was smaller – and I could not see its face. I was about to assist him, but then... I am unable to recall. Did we win?"
"Good question…" Willow murmured. Her frown of concern had only deepened following Buffy's account, and as Buffy had finished speaking, she turned her head to look over the deserted scene again, at the darkened grass and thorny bushes.
"I don't know Wil…" Xander groaned, and Buffy could now see he was being supported by Anya and Tara. His hair was standing on end, and his eyes were wide, frazzled. "But this sure feels like a victory headache."
Buffy frowned at him, noting his appearance. "Are you alright Xander?"
"Oh yeah..." Xander said, still wincing slightly as Tara and Anya helped him take a couple steps forward. "This is pretty standard for Scooby patrol... Like old times."
Buffy looked around. "Did the demon get away?"
Anya snorted, gesturing wildly with her one free arm. "More like vanished into thin air... all we saw when we got here was those three little dweebs."
Buffy frowned. "What is a dweeb?"
Willow sighed, running a hand through her deep-red hair. "Alright, I think we can call patrol a little early tonight. Tara, can you take Buffybot back to the house? I just wanna make sure Xander and Anya get home safe."
Tara nodded, moving from Xander's side so that Willow could seamlessly take her place.
Anya had adopted a rather bemused expression, and tightened her grip around Xander, pulling him slightly to one side. Xander winced again. "You don't think I can take care of my own man?"
Willow looked at Anya with a rather exasperated expression. "Anya. Can you not fight me on this right now?"
Anya still looked displeased, but after a moment of restless fidgeting, she sulkily acquiesced, and the two of them began to manoeuvre Xander away towards the nearest sidewalk.
After watching them leave for a few moments, Tara gently placed a hand on the back of Buffy's favourite red slaying jacket, smiling kindly at her. "C'mon, we can see how Dawn's been getting on with her homework."
Yet when Buffy and Tara began their walk up the path towards the Summers' house, Dawn did not appear to be doing homework. Wisps of conversation were drifting out through the living room window, snippets of sentences that Buffy's sensitive hearing could pick up.
" I can't let what happened to Janice happen to anyone else. If the others won't take me patrolling, or teach me how to fight – I have to find another way. We had a deal, Spike, remember?"
Buffy paused, her hand half reached out to the doorknob. That didn't sound right somehow.
Spike's voice cut in. "Yeah, we did – but after last night, you need to lay low for a while. As it is, the Missus gave me a grilling over exactly how I knew where you were. Bars on the window isn't gonna help the cause now, is it?"
" Fine – you're probably right," Dawn conceded. "I don't want to do the whole.. family drama thing all over again. Pretty sure they'll be watching me – convinced I'm going to fly apart or something. And... I don't really want to hurt them again."
Spike snorted. "Yeah, well – just play the good girl for a little while, alright? They'll be plenty of time for learning the ropes after the mother hens have stopped clucking."
"What's wrong Buffy?" Tara asked, but before Buffy could answer, she heard a series of heavy footfalls quickly moving across the wooden floor of the house, and within a moment the front door swung open.
"Oh," Spike said, a look of apparent surprise on his face. "It's you. Slim pickings tonight, was it?"
"Not exactly," Tara replied, stepping inside as Spike made way for her. "Xander and Buffy got taken down by some kind of demon – possibly a group. It got away too."
"Poor carpenter boy..." Spike remarked dryly. "Well then, I'd best be off."
Tara nodded. "Well, thanks for watching Dawn – as always. Let us know if you need anything... within reason."
Spike snorted. "Sure. Could use some cash. Been too long since I stopped charging you lot…"
Buffy however, had not made a move to enter the house. Instead, her eyes were fixed on Spike. Something didn't sit right with her about all this. Buffy knew vampires had an excellent sense of hearing and smell – at least as potent as her own.
As she continued to process everything she had just witnessed, she began to put the pieces together. Spike must have known it was Tara at the door – for she herself neither had a human scent, nor had spoken – and therefore had feigned the surprise on his face. But why would he lie?
Buffy quickly recalled Tara's own advice. Search for motive. Reason.
An answer came. Spike lied - because she wasn't supposed to have heard what Spike and Dawn were discussing.
But what had they been discussing, exactly? What was this 'deal' Dawn had referred to?
Spike seemed to notice Buffy watching her, shooting her a frown as he passed her on the doorstep, though he said nothing as he moseyed on down the front path, his long black coat trailing out behind him.
Buffy moved inside, closing the door behind her, just as Tara made the top of the stairs and vanished onto the upstairs hallway. Without hesitation, Buffy moved into the living room, where Dawn was perched casually on the sofa, running a few strands of her hair through two fingers. She smiled at Buffy.
"Hey there Buffy. You okay? I heard Tara say you got laid out by some demon?"
"Hello Dawn," Buffy said, in a rather stilted voice.
So soon after their recent conflict and reconciliation, Buffy still felt uneasy about the possibility of repeating the experience. "She is correct – but do not worry. I am mostly undamaged, and Willow will run a diagnostic before my next patrol."
Dawn nodded. From her outward appearance Dawn seemed to be far more at ease, though Buffy could no longer be certain that this truly reflected her true state. "Cool. You'll also be pleased to know that I 'slayed' my latest math assignment within the first hour... pretty impressive, I know."
Buffy lowered herself robotically onto the couch beside Dawn. "I am glad."
Dawn frowned at her, as though sensing something was amiss. "Is... something wrong?"
"I do not know," Buffy replied honestly.
There was silence for a few seconds.
"Dawn, I need to know something. And... please, do not lie to me again."
Dawn's face was suddenly pained. "Umm – sure, Buffy. What do you... what do you want to know?"
"I require clarification. What is the nature of your 'deal' with Spike?"
Dawn froze, and her eyes widened.
"Please Dawn, I need to know," Buffy implored her. "I know Spike knew about what you were doing last night – and I heard what you were talking about just now."
Dawn's reply was a mess of stuttering stammers. "You... you heard – oh. Oh God..."
Buffy reached out to take both of Dawn's hands, remembering observing many such gestures of affection between friends and family in the past. "Dawn. You are my sister. Last night – I almost failed to protect you. I know I am not... everything that you need. I understand that I do not understand, but I want to keep you safe. I want to help. Please Dawn – talk to me."
Tears pooled in the corners of Dawn's eyes, and sure enough - she talked.
"I've been... doing stuff, for a while now. Sneaking out – and... I've been taking things. Things that don't belong to me. Spike's been watching me – says he just wants to stop me getting in over my head. He tried to get me to stop at first – but... I wouldn't. So, he suggested instead that I just... learn from him. He's already a rebel, and a thief."
"Spike knew you had been doing this?"
Dawn averted her eyes. "Yeah."
Buffy felt something, something that pushed at the edges of her programming. It was like... sadness, but different. More immediate. When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a hushed whisper. "And he did not tell us."
"I... asked him not to," Dawn argued, squeezing one of Buffy's hands.. "It's not all his fault – it's mine."
"But I do not understand," Buffy said, shaking her head in confusion and growing distress. "Why have you done these things? Stealing is wrong Dawn, lying to your friends is wrong. But you are not a bad person – I know this. You are my sister. One of the good guys!"
Dawn looked helplessly at Buffy, and her body seemed to shudder. "It's... hard to explain, Buffy. Ever since we lost Mom, lost Buffy... it's been hard. Sometimes it's like it's not even real. You heard some of it last night. A lot of the time I just feel... numb. But when I do those things... it makes me forget about it, for a little while. I'm just... in the moment."
Buffy wished she could understand. In a way, she had never been closer to Dawn, but in another way she had never felt further from her – on the other side of a wall she had not been programmed to cross, one that she could not reach through.
"I am sorry Dawn," Buffy said, after a few moments had passed.
"It's okay," Dawn replied. "Thanks for not... totally freaking out, anyway - Willow and Tara would have… totally freaked for sure. But like I said before – you listen to me."
Buffy nodded, her brow creased in new resolution.
"Dawn, I need to go and do something. Are you alright being here with Tara?"
Dawn blinked. "Huh? Where are you going?"
The something, the unknown feeling that had been building inside Buffy had turned into iron resolve. "I need to talk to Spike."
Dawn looked visibly wary. "Buffy... I'm not sure you should..."
"Please Dawn," Buffy implored her. "I should have done this before. I allowed my... past with Spike to interfere. I cannot do that any longer. Not when it affects you. You are more important.”
With that, Buffy moved back towards the front door.
"Buffy?"
Buffy turned back to Dawn. "Yes, Dawn?"
"Are you going to tell the others?"
Buffy hesitated, her long golden hair flipping over one shoulder as she turned back to look at Dawn.
"When I get back – we will discuss it. Together. Please, tell Tara where I have gone."
Dawn smiled, looking somewhat reassured. "I will. And... thank you."
"You are welcome." Buffy opened the door but shot one last glance back at her sister. "I am glad that you told me, Dawn."
Buffy shoved open the wooden door of the crypt, not even pausing to wait for an invitation before storming inside. Spike's head snapped round to spot the intruder with predatory reflexes, but once he saw who it was his body released its tension, reaching over sluggishly to mute the television.
"So, what the bloody hell do you want?" Spike asked with irritable disinterest. "Can't you people leave me alone for a single moment?! Make it snappy bot, 'Passions' is on in a sec."
"Hello Spike." Buffy greeted him, her robotic tone still managing to carry a certain solemnity. "I wish to talk to you. About Dawn."
Spike eyed her warily. "About Dawn? Well, she's not here if you've lost her again, and…"
"I know about your arrangement with her," Buffy revealed plainly, interrupting Spike in mid-sentence. "And I have unarranged it. I wish you to… to stay away from Dawn."
Buffy felt awkward saying the words. She was entirely unaccustomed to saying things she knew would most likely lead to upsetting someone. Especially Spike. The very notion seemed to rattle her to her core processor.
"You want me to stay away from her?" Spike repeated incredulously, letting out a snort. "If you hadn't noticed doll, I'm the one who's keepin' her safe out there."
Buffy was silent for a moment, running through her processor all that Dawn had told her of their secret arrangement. "I do not think you're good for her. You are not what she needs. I will protect her now."
"Right," Spike began in mock earnest. "And who do you think you are to be the one who looks after the little bit, eh?"
"I am her sister." Buffy said simply. Sisters looked out for each other. Sisters loved each other. Even when they hurt each other.
Spike slowly rose to his feet at that. He took a long drag on his cigarette, blowing the fumes into the cold air before tossing it away. He was beautiful. He was dangerous. He was Spike. The fiend lowered his head, letting out a low chuckle.
"You know, after all of Wil's little tweaks, at the end of the day you are still one hell of a dumb bitch, aren't you?"
Buffy froze, and Spike's face momentarily twisted into a small, satisfied smirk.
This is wrong. What flowed through her processor at his response felt almost like pain. Spike's disapproval. Spike's disdain. What had she done wrong?
"No, you're not her sister," he pressed bitterly. "You're not the Slayer either, so don't try that one. I've killed two of them, so I should know. Three, if you count what I did last year. And you're certainly not Buffy. You couldn't have the foggiest idea what that even means."
There was something in his voice, something Buffy did not think her files had ever recorded.
Spike stepped closer to her, continuing until his face hovered intimately close above her own. "You know what you are, love , really? You think you're a 'real girl'… but the truth is, well… you're just some life-size toy I used to shag to get my jollies."
Buffy's eyes fell from his, lost on the ground. A toy . Just what Razor had called her.
"You... said you loved me once." She whispered. She remembered. Nights entwined, slaying and loving. Her twin purposes. Her reason to be. "There were many times."
"Loved you ?" Spike laughed acidly. "I loved Buffy! I loved her 'till it burned me up inside, twisted me inside out. And you? Well... as if I could ever love something as boring, as stupid, as predictable as –"
Buffy's arm shot out, smacking Spike hard across the face with brutal force, sending him flying into the stone casket at the centre of the room with a crack. Buffy didn't seem to realise what she was doing until it was over, her eyes widening as she gazed at her closed fist.
She had attacked Spike. She had hurt him – and not in the way he likes. What was happening to her?
Spike had collapsed into a heap after the impact, but after being stunned for less than a moment he raised a hand to the back of his head, before looking at the blood staining it. Then he grinned.
"That's more like it, love!" he congratulated her, mockery still in his voice as he staggered to his feet. "Wil give you a thrash the Spike program, did she? You want to start this one over?"
"Stop talking," Buffy demanded, her face twitching as she shook her head to try and silence her deafening sequences of errors and contradictions. This was all wrong, all some terrible malfunction.
"That's right," he called out musically, his voice reverberating off the suddenly claustrophobic stone walls. "I'm not the only one who knows it. Like me, your friends just want to use you. You're a tool. They want something, so they write it into your tiny plastic brain! You're an object, love – best you get used to it."
"That is NOT true!" Buffy bellowed, shaking her head as all the doubts, all the contradictions about her identity flooded to the surface of her systems. "Willow said I have a soul – I am real. I am Buffy. I am the Slayer!"
"Willow lied," Spike replied viciously, as though savouring the taste of the words. "All your little scooby friends lied! And you're so unbelievably thick, it's taken me spelling the whole bloody thing out to you for you to get a clue!"
Words gave way to blows. Almost before she was aware of it, Buffy was sending wave after wave of impossibly fast blows and kicks at Spike, which even he appeared to struggle to dodge, block and riposte, though he managed it with considerable effort. Both of them punched and kicked, struck with elbows and knees, wielding every part of themselves possible as a weapon as the deadly dance continued. When they weren't blocking each other's strikes, they were wrestling one another into the walls, cracking dusty stone pillars and knocking candles and stray bottles of spirits to the ground.
Spike's ravenous eyes bore into Buffy as he got the upper hand, driving her to the ground. Before she could react he had thrown himself atop her, his lips pressing heavily on hers. Buffy blinked rapidly – utterly dumbfounded by the innate contradictions of what was happening. Her slaying protocols were seizing, as though she was attempting to switch mode and load the programmes that now only existed in archived memory files.
"Maybe I was wrong…." Spike drawled as he pulled his mouth away, moving his greedy hands slowly up Buffy's sides. "Maybe you should visit me once in a while – after all, it is what your best at isn't it? What you're for?!"
Buffy began to panic as he ran his cold hands over her, feeling only a profound wrongness at what had once made her feel nothing but joy. For so long she had just wanted Spike to see her like he once did, to smile when he saw her, to gain pleasure from her presence. To look in a room and see only her – rather than just seeing everything else. But it was only now she realised how mistaken she had been.
This wasn't who she was anymore.
Refusing to allow him to continue a moment longer, Buffy headbutted Spike in the face, rolling onto her knees before grabbing the vampire by the arms and throwing him off her into a nearby wall.
"No, Spike," she said. "This is not what I am for."
"You like it rough now do you?" Spike asked through bloody lips, wiping his mouth with his wrist. "I can work with that. Go on, bot – start this one over."
He threw himself at Buffy again, just as she managed to spring back to her feet. Just as he was about to reach her, Buffy thrust out a fist towards his head, only for Spike to deftly duck under the blow.
Without hesitation, Spike grabbed her outstretched arm and launched a fluid kick into Buffy's stomach, sending her flying through the air until she collided with his door, shattering the rotten wood. She landed hard on the grass outside, surrounded by the headstones and the evening mist.
Spike loomed over Buffy as she tried to rise despite her twisted and battered circuits, looking down at her with a determined expression.
"I could have saved Buffy that night," Spike spat. "I could have saved Dawn before the whole bloody apocalypse started. But I failed – and Buffy died. Now I can only make it right, by keeping her little sister safe – keeping her wise to what's out there, and tellin' her how to survive. And I will. Buffy knew I was the only other person who had the strength to protect Dawn – she told me so - so I'll be damned if I let a half-wit like you get in the way. It's what Buffy would have wanted. Because well... after all, she was nothing but disgusted by you."
He turned away from her then, closing what was left of the broken door behind him and leaving Buffy alone, sprawled and broken in the darkness.
His muffled voice could still be heard from inside. "And either you give me the cash to get me a new door, or send Xander down here to make me a new one!"
Notes:
And we are caught up for now! I will work on the next chapter as soon as I have a chance. I hope you all continue to enjoy!
StormtideLeviathan on Chapter 1 Thu 26 Jun 2025 05:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
Sheeshasan on Chapter 12 Mon 28 Apr 2025 02:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
wi11der on Chapter 12 Mon 28 Apr 2025 11:55PM UTC
Comment Actions
StormtideLeviathan on Chapter 14 Wed 16 Jul 2025 11:10PM UTC
Comment Actions
StormtideLeviathan on Chapter 16 Thu 17 Jul 2025 03:32AM UTC
Comment Actions
Tramuntana on Chapter 17 Fri 30 May 2025 03:47PM UTC
Comment Actions