Buffybot Behind Bars
PAIRING: None
RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: Very welcome, to [email protected]
BETA: Miss Murchison - thanks!
SETTING: The summer before the start of season 6. Buffy is gone, Buffybot is doing her best to fill the gap.
DISCLAIMER: The only characters who belong to me are the ones you’ve never heard of before. Otherwise, I’m borrowing, and I promise to put them all back in good condition, and only slightly used...
Chapter 15: Buffybot Learns it is Hard to be Human
Buffybot chewed her gumbo unhappily, a piece of cornbread clutched in her hand. This eating food business had seemed like fun at first, but she was starting to feel rather full. So far she had eaten lunch (fried chicken in gravy! chocolate pudding! coffee!), dinner (lasagna! string beans! more coffee!), then breakfast (scrambled eggs! buttered toast! yet more coffee!), and now here was lunch again. She choked - oh no! It was all coming up! Buffybot jumped to her feet and hurried for the bathroom. Miss Bozell stood in front of her. Buffybot desperately tried to dodge past, but Miss Bozell stopped her with a firm hand.
“Something’s happening!” Buffybot said desperately. “The food’s coming up instead of going down; that can’t be right!”
“Actually,” said Miss Bozell unsympathetically, “it’s quite common when people actually eat the gumbo. The trick is to pinch your nose before swallowing - and it should still work. Now, pinch your nose.” Buffybot moaned weakly.
“Pinch your nose. Don’t be such a baby!” Said Miss Bozell sharply. Buffybot took hold of her nose reluctantly.
“Now swallow!” roared Miss Bozell.
Buffybot took a big gulp of air, then her eyes bulged as the pressure built up, and with a sudden gasp she released her nose and opened her mouth. A gush of undigested food poured forth in a multicoloured fountain.
“Ga-a-ah!” said Buffybot.
..........
Tara sat on the edge of the Summers’ sofa, trembling very slightly. Willow sat beside her rubbing a comforting hand in small circles between her shoulder blades.
“Just breathe, sweetie,” she said.
“And try not to look quite so much like a deer caught in the headlights,” said Anya, “the social worker is going to think you have Dawn’s body buried in the basement or something if you don’t relax.” She stepped up in front of Tara and bent down to face her, “JUST RELAX!”
Tara flinched, “I have to go to the bathroom!” she said desperately. She sprang up from the sofa and rushed through the door.
Anya narrowed her eyes, “how can anyone need to go to the bathroom three times in five minutes? Unless they have dysentery of course.” She brightened, “actually that reminds of a rather amusing curse I carried out in the 1350s...”
“Please,” said Willow, “do not tell any stories involving body fluids while Tara is in this condition. And please, please stop shouting at her. She’s nervous enough already, poor baby.”
“She’s going to screw things up big time,” said Anya, with a certain amount of satisfaction in her voice. “I told you you should have let me be Buffy.”
The front door banged open and Xander bounded into the room, his hair full of twigs and leaves. “Target located, moving in an easterly direction,” he gasped, “ETA about 30 sec...” The doorbell rang. “Or less,” he added.
Willow and Anya gazed anxiously at the door through which Tara had disappeared. They waited, nervously. Nothing happened. Xander gazed at them wildly, “He’s at the door!! We have to answer!”
“Tara - I mean Buffy ought to answer,” said Willow. It’s Tara’s, I mean her house.”
The doorbell rang again, louder and longer this time.
Tara burst through the living room door, horribly pale. “I think I may have a stomach bug,” she said desperately.
“Dyse..” said Anya, before Willow clapped a hand firmly over her mouth.
“You’re fine, sweetie,” said Willow, “just breathe, and open the door!” she added as the doorbell rang a third time.
“Door,” said Tara blankly.
“The front door,” said Xander, taking Tara’s elbow and pointing her in the right direction, “at the front of the house, in the hall... off you go.” He gave Tara a firm push and she tottered in the right direction.
“This is all going to go horribly wrong!” said Anya, “I can feel it in my ex-vengeance demony bones.”
............
Miss Bozell stared down at her feet, buried in a lurid mass of thoroughly chewed gumbo, fried chicken, carrots, pasta, boiled egg and other more sinister things, all swimming in a swirling tide of chocolate custard, gravy and tomato sauce.
“My God,” she said, “do you have four stomachs?”
“I’m terribly sorry,” said Buffybot unhappily.
“My shoes!” said Miss Bozell, “This is revolting!” She looked up at Buffybot, “You are revolting, you, you revolting little bitch.” She stepped out of the pile of food with a loud obscene sucking noise. There was a snort of laughter from somewhere in the canteen. Miss Bozell shot a vicious glare across the room.
“I really am terribly sorry,” said Buffybot again. She was feeling a bit funny; sort of weak, and faint, and Miss Bozell’s voice seemed to be fading in and out....
Miss Bozell looked down at her legs. A bite-shaped piece of chocolate pudding was sliding down her right stocking in a slick of gravy. Her face purpled. “You are going to clean this up, you little slut.”
..........
Mr Ormsbach entered the living room, and blinked. Three young people were sitting in a tightly packed row on the sofa, apparently in the middle of an animated argument.
“Ah, yes,” said Tara, “these are friends of mine, just visiting - apart from Willow, of course - who is my lov... lodger. Yes, she’s my lodger, who lodges here, not in an actual lodge of course. We don’t have one. She’s not my girlfriend. At. All.” Tara blushed deeply.
“We’ve met,” said Mr Ormsbach. He smiled at Willow, who gave him a little wave. There was a yelp and Mr Ormsbach turned his head. The other young lady on the sofa appeared to have just struck the young man sitting beside her, rather hard.
“What was that for?” said Xander. He turned to Mr Ormsbach, “oh, er hi there, nice to meet you - I guess you’re the social worker.”
Mr Ormsbach’s eyes narrowed. “and you are the young man who was standing behind a tree in Miss Summers’ next door neighbour’s garden five minutes ago, observing me through what I rather think were night goggles - though they seem a little redundant at two o’clock in the afternoon. I hope the owners don’t mind you forcing your way through their hedge like that - it can’t be good for the bushes.”
Xander blushed.
“Well!” said Anya, “and after all the hours you’ve been going on at me - Anya, don’t discuss sex or sexual positions; Anya, keep quiet about the witchcraft; Anya, whatever you do, don’t mention the robot; Anya, remember to smile at the man even if you think he’s a dork...” she broke off and smiled at Mr Ormsbach, “Hi there! So nice to meet you! Buffy’s a fine person, and a terrific parental substitute. Frankly, Dawn’s lucky, because she is no angel, believe you me. I could tell you stories...”
“Anya!” said Willow desperately, “isn’t it about time you and Xander were off? I know you have to be somewhere other than here, you know, doing stuff, someplace else.”
Mr Ormsbach coughed, “Well in fact you all need to be elsewhere. I need to speak to Miss Summers alone, in confidence you understand.”
“Alone?” said Tara faintly.
“Alone?” said Willow, catching Xander’s eye in mutual horror.
“Alone,” said Mr Ormsbach firmly. He looked at the three Scoobies on the sofa, “Now I appreciate that you wish to show your support, and that is entirely to your credit - however oddly you choose to express it,” Mr Ormsbach looked hard at Xander, “but this conversation is confidential.” He stood, and opened the living room door. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
..........
“Um,” said Buffybot. She sat down rather abruptly, “My knees just stopped working,” she said, surprised.
“You’re not getting out of it like that!” said Miss Bozell, furious. She grabbed Buffybot by the arm and pulled her half way to her feet. “Now get up and fetch a mop...”
“Or maybe a shovel!” said an anonymous voice behind her.
Miss Bozell wheeled furiously. “Whoever said that is going into solitary!” Buffybot sank back down again, as the support under her arm was lost. She sat quietly running through her diagnostics... things weren’t looking too good.
Miss Bozell turned once again. “I said get up!” she screamed. “Don’t try the ‘I feel faint’ crap with me, you little freak.”
Buffybot’s head was feeling heavy. She rested it gently on her chest.
“Right, that’s it!” shouted Miss Bozell. She grabbed Buffybot by the back of her shirt and started to lift her bodily from the floor.
“Hey, leave her alone!” cried a voice. A piece of cornbread sailed through the air and clipped Miss Bozell behind her left ear. She wheeled furiously, and pointed randomly at one unlucky inmate. “You are going into solitary!”
“Well, said the inmate, “if I’m already going...” She picked up the cornbread from her plate and lobbed it fast and true at Miss Bozell... who dodged neatly to one side as the cornbread sailed past.
“Hah, she said, “missed me! ......mrrff!” The Sunnydale Women’s Penitentiary baseball team had all fired their cornbreads at once. Miss Bozell went down in a hail of missiles.
A second warder ran from the room, pulling her walkie-talkie from her belt as she went. One quick reaction shot bounced off the back of her head as she dived for the panic button, then ran through the door slamming it behind her.
The canteen was in an uproar. Inmates milled around, cornbreads in hand, but with no targets to aim at - until one bright soul recalled that the baseball team now had no weapons. She took careful aim and brought down the team captain with a brilliant shot dead between the eyes. The rest of the team roared in anger and descended on her with their plates of gumbo raised. Soon an ugly scene was in progress.
...........
“...yes,” said Tara, “she did fall a little behind in her math. But I think she’s made up a lot of ground recently..... um excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom...” she fled.
.........
Sal wriggled out of the melee, grinning like a lunatic. Gumbo was running down the back of her neck, and the skin round her left eye was rapidly turning purple. This was the best fun she’d had in ages, but she was a little worried about the kid.
Sal took a hurried step forward, and felt a warm squelching sensation. She looked down. Her foot was buried to the ankle in Buffybot’s four-meal mountain. She pulled and her foot came free with a sucking sound, leaving her sneaker behind. Sal contemplated her sock quizzically for a moment, then moved onward.
..........
“Cystitis,” said Tara, scarlet with mortification.
“My mother is a martyr to it,” said Mr Ormsbach, “bless her!” He leant forward, “It recurs you know,” he said confidingly, “the antibiotics clear it, and then a few months later - kaboom! She’s on the run again. Up and down to the bathroom, every five minutes...”
Tara’s scarlet cheeks drained to white, and she pressed her knees together.
............
Miss Bozell was sitting on the floor, her legs splayed in front of her, and a plate of gumbo upended on her head. She was blinking, and her mouth was opening and closing, but no sound seemed to be coming out. Sal hurried by her to Buffybot, who lay curled up like a sleepy little kitten, her nose almost touching her knees.
“You ok, honey?” she said concernedly.
Buffybot’s right eye opened slowly, and she smiled. “You’re Sal; you’re short and you shave your head.”
“Yeah, but I’m not as short as you,” said Sal. She brushed Buffybot’s hair back out of her opened eye. “But that’s me, Buffy - you got it in one. So, how ya doing?”
Buffybot blinked slowly. “I’m feeling a bit run down is all, Sal. Maybe you could plug my belly button into an electric socket?”
Sal laughed, and bent down, and picked Buffybot up with a grunt. Oof! she was heavier than she looked. She half padded, half squelched down the aisle and knocked on the locked door at the end of the room. The whispered conversation on the other side stopped abruptly. Sal rested her shoulder against the wall, and waited.
..........
Mr Ormsbach stood on the porch, waving a friendly goodbye. Well, he thought, Miss Summers certainly seemed like a nice sensible girl. She had clearly taken a detailed and well informed interest in her sister’s school studies and general welfare - and the Rosenberg girl seemed normal enough. Really, it was all most encouraging, though he did have reservations about - he hesitated to himself - well, her other more unsuitable friends. He made a little note on his file to recommend a follow-up visit in a few months time.
Chapter 16: Giles to the Rescue
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