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 5: The Scoobies Attempt to Make Bail
Willow looked around at her friends, “Bottie’s in jail, for assaulting a policeman.” She paced around, twisting her hands, “how on earth do we get her out?”
Giles cleared his throat, “Well, first of all, it’s important that we don’t panic.” He paused. “Of course it can only be a matter of time before Buffybot’s nature is discovered, and once that happens, the effect can only be disastrous.” He whipped off his specs and polished them agitatedly, “disastrous!”
“Oh good, said Xander, “so no sign of panicking there, then.”
“Um,” said Tara tentatively, “can’t we at least try and make bail for her? If we can get her home, then think up something convincing for the judge tomorrow...”
“Well,” sighed Giles, “it’s worth a try, however pathetically unlikely it is to succeed. I’d better get down there immediately.” He looked at the tired, stressed faces of the Scoobies surrounding him. “Willow can come with me - the rest of you need to try and rest.”
“Oh my god!” said Willow suddenly. Everyone turned to her. “I just remembered,” she said. “What about the social worker?”
“Ah,” said Giles, “yes, that’s another complication.”
.............
Buffybot gazed down interestedly. Did she have fingerprints, she wondered? She wasn’t really sure. The policeman pressed her index finger into the ink and rolled it expertly across the page. Ooh! there it was - that rascally Warren might have been a murderous criminal, and a pervert to boot, but it had to be admitted that he stood firmly in a tradition of fine American craftsmanship! Buffybot smiled; she liked to see the good in people.
...............
“Well this is just great!” Spike marched into the room, back in his own clothes, carrying his duster and boots in a drycleaning bag (no shortage of those in the Summers house). His shirt and jeans had shrunk from the extra hot cycle and now clung to him uncomfortably tightly. An inch of rippled white stomach showed between black t-shirt and black jeans, and several inches of bony white ankle gleamed above the fluffy mules on his feet. Spike looked down at himself, disgusted.
“This was my favorite pairs of jeans too.” He paused as he took in the grave faces around him. “Well, well - found your tin toy, have you? Scrap metal is she?”
“Buffybot has been arrested, through some misunderstanding or another,” said Giles stiffly. “We’re about to try and secure her release.”
Spike snorted. “Good luck, mate.” He tried to sat down on the sofa arm, but found the tightness of his trousers made that too uncomfortable. “She’s probably been sectioned by now. She’ll be tucked away in some nice comfy padded cell somewhere.” He laughed suddenly, “Of course, looking on the bright side, the chances of a loony doctor realising what’s actually wrong with her are very small. They’ll be putting it down to her mother, or something nasty she saw in the woodshed when she was a nipper.”
Giles drew in an exasperated breath, then thought better of it - explaining psychiatric theory would have to wait for another time, tempting though it was to address this nonsense. He pulled his car keys from his pocket and beckoned Willow, and they left, slamming the door behind them.
Spike surreptitiously slipped the button on the waistband of his jeans undone, then flung himself on to the sofa with a martyred sigh.
“And no one’s asked me how I am, I notice,” he said. “I got trampled by demons, you know. Helping to combat evil and all that.” He looked over at Tara. “How about a nice cup of tea, sweetheart? I could certainly do with one.”
Tara sighed, she’d been thinking about a bath. “I suppose so, she said, without much enthusiasm. She walked across the room, then stopped by Spike, her nostrils twitching. “You did have a bath, didn’t you?” she doubtfully.
Spike straightened up, offended. “Of course, I bloody did. Two baths, actually.” He sniffed the air, then leapt to his feet. “Bloody hell!” He twisted around to look at the seat of his jeans. There was an ugly damp patch.
“Oh dear,” said Tara, “Willow did say the sofa was a bit slimy.”
.........
Buffybot peered around the holding cell with interest. She had a bed without a mattress (good for people with bad backs!), there was a toilet with no seat - and there was a large girl dressed in an improbable combination of a lavender boob tube a size too small for her, and shocking pink skinny capri pants, leaning against the bars of the cell and smoking moodily. (Hey, I can pass the time giving her fashion tips, thought Buffybot brightly - she sure needs them!) Buffybot skipped across the room, sat down on the bed and swung her feet back and forth.
“Hey monkey girl, that’s my bed.”
Buffybot looked up; who was monkey girl?
The girl sashayed over, and poked Buffybot’s shoulder with one blood red claw for emphasis. “So, move your butt, butt head.”
Buffybot bounced to her feet - oops. She hadn’t realised the bed belonged to someone.
“I don’t think I have a butt head,” she brightly, “although my hair may have been disarranged a bit - I’ve been fighting! It was super fun.” She bounced up and down a bit as she remembered how much fun it had been.
The girl moved away a couple of steps, and took a rather shaky puff on her cigarette. “Yeah? Who’ve you been fighting, butt head?”
“Demons, oh and a policeman, but that was an accident. I killed dozens of demons,” Buffybot’s little chest puffed with pride as she remembered, “and then I nearly cut the policeman’s head off.”
The girl retreated to the other side of the holding cell, and pressed her shoulders against the bars.
Buffybot sighed, “Anyway they got all upset and now they’ve arrested me. But it’s not a problem, I’ve used my precious Constitutional right to one phone call, and Willow is going to get me out. Only not tonight. Tonight I get to stay here, with you!” Buffybot gave her companion a happy smile. “I’m sure we’re going to be great friends!”
...............
Giles and Willow walked into the charge room and looked around nervously. Apart from a few sad figures slumped on benches, the room was eerily empty.
Giles marched up to the sergeant’s desk and cleared his throat. The sergeant looked up, a ‘been there, done that’ expression stamped firmly on his face.
“Ahem,” said Giles, “we’re here about Miss Buffy Summers. I believe she’s in custody.”
The sergeant ran his pen down a list of names in front of him. “No Buffy Summers here, Sir - ah, we’ve got a Buffy Bott, though. Yeah - I remember her all right. Little blonde kid, happy as Larry - came with a dirty great sword and a jacket that smells like a sewer. Ring any bells?”
“Ah,” said Giles, “yes, that would be her.”
Willow tugged his arm, “Giles, can we....
The sergeant narrowed his eyes at Giles and pointed accusingly with his pen. “You’re Giles, huh? The kid said you gave her that sword. Kinda careless of you wasn’t it?”
“Actually,” said Giles, “it was Willow who gave her the sword, “rather foolishly in my opinion.”
Willow threw a quick glance at the sergeant who was now staring accusingly at her, then scowled at Giles. “Um, this really isn’t the time... but it was you who said it was hers,” she hissed, “I just gave it to her tonight. It seemed like a good idea at the time, with her being out on her own after dark and all. It was for self defense,” she said defiantly, “I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”
“Yeah well, tell it to the judge,” said the sergeant, suddenly bored.
“Ah, we were wondering,” said Giles, “can we post bail for Miss Sum.. ah, Bott tonight?”
“No, Sir, you can’t.” The sergeant bulked threateningly over the desk. “That kid assaulted an officer. We don’t do night bail for people who attack police officers. We do night bail for happy drunks and assholes who steal traffic cones. Your girl will be having her day in court tomorrow morning, 10am sharp, when bail may be granted if she can convince ol’ Dennis she’s not a menace.”
“Well, I feared as much,” said Giles, sighing, “come along Willow.”
The sergeant held up his hand. “Nah, wait a minute, I got something for you.” Giles and Willow turned back.
“Glad to see the back of it,” said the sergeant. He rustled under his counter for a moment then handed Giles a Walmart bag, closed with brown tape.
“What is it?” said Giles doubtfully. He plucked at the tape.
“No! Don’t op...” yelled the sergeant.
But he was too late. Giles pulled the tape away with a loud rip, and looked in the bag, while Willow peered over his shoulder. They reeled back.
“Good God, that’s vile!” choked Giles. He dropped the bag, which fell to the floor with a faint thud and a sigh of air. Everyone fell back a pace, but it was no good - the whole area was inundated with the stench of decay and something worse.
“Get that damn coat out of here!” shouted the sergeant, clutching his handkerchief to his nose, “or I swear I’m gonna find something to book you for too!”
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