Buffybot in Tabula Rasa
PAIRING: None
RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: Very welcome, to [email protected]
BETA: Miss Murchison - thanks!
SETTING: This fic is set during the events of 'Tabula Rasa' in BtVS Series 6, when the Scoobies temporarily lose their memories. I've twiddled with the time sequence in the episode a tiny bit, but just call it artistic licence.
DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Joss. I’m borrowing, and I promise to put them all back in reasonably good condition, and only slightly used.
NOTE: This story is a sequel to Buffybot Behind Bars!, but it can perfectly well be read as a stand-alone.
SCENE: A house in Sunnydale
Chapter Twelve
Buffybot clumped eagerly down the street. She had a crutch, just like Kerry Weaver! Dawn, proving surprisingly helpful for once, had suggested it, and a quick hunt had thrown up a garden hoe, lying abandoned on a front lawn, and quickly adapted when Tara’s bobbly sweater was wrapped around the blade several times to form a pad. Buffybot grinned. This was ever so exciting - she’d never had a crutch before! She made a conscientious note nonetheless to return the hoe to number 72 Revello Drive, just as soon as she had her leg fixed again. She mustn’t be responsible for making Dawn a juvenile delinquent hoe-stealer!
She led her intrepid gang along Revello Drive, and up the path to the Summers House. The door was still unlocked, and she flung it open with a flourish.
“We’re home!” she warbled merrily.
.............
Spike and Buffy regarded the closed door behind which poor Jonathan was being held captive.
Buffy took hold of the hot/cold stone. It was uncomfortably hot, and she slipped it quickly back in to her pocket again.
“It’s definitely the right place,” she said.
“Right!” said Spike confidently, “Well, a door should be no problem to a vampire.”
He swung his axe in a great arc, and thudded it into the door with a tremendous crash. The axe head flew off, narrowly missing his head. Spike dropped the handle with a yelp of pain, jammed his hands in his armpits and jumped around, cursing.
Buffy poked at the door doubtfully with the tip of her sword. There was a small, shiny dent in it at her eye level.
“Apparently, it’s a metal door,” she said, eyeing the dent with interest. She flicked an experimental fingernail against the door, making a little pinging noise, then looked more closely at the lock. “And I’m guessing there’s a security bar on the other side.”
“Now she tells me,” said Spike bitterly, his fiercely stinging hands still wedged under his armpits.
“Hmm,” said Buffy, examining the wall. “Perhaps we can knock a hole in the brickwork instead.”
“How?” said Spike, still sulking. “By headbutting it?” He brightened. “Or maybe we could drive a car into it - knock down the whole thing!”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “We’re trying to save Jonathan - not run him over, or collapse a brick wall on to him. Geez, Spike!”
There was a long pause, as they regarded the firmly closed and bolted door in front of them.
“There’s got to be a way,” said Buffy.
“I’m sure there is,” said Spike.
There was another long pause.
............
Once the front door was shut behind them, Buffybot headed for her toolbox in the basement, clumping down the stairs - step, thump, step, thump. Her friends were safe wandering about the Summers house, looking around the bedrooms (Willow and Tara), exclaiming at the photos on the walls (Dawn), and poking through the fridge (Xander). Now was the perfect time to fix her leg again.
.............
Spike and Buffy wandered along the dark alley, looking for a makeshift crowbar in among all the debris from the riot. They had broken Spike’s axe handle, and blunted all their stakes, and still the door remained stubbornly closed. So far they had found twenty two beers cans, six Doublemeat Palace burger boxes, two garbage can lids, twelve assorted bricks, a car exhaust pipe, several used condoms, a severed tentacle and a headless Barbie doll - none of which seemed likely to provide a breakthrough. Buffy was just bending over to examine another mysterious and insalubrious object, when Spike grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows.
“Wha ... mmph!” she said as Spike’s hand clasped over her mouth. And then she heard it - footsteps, approaching at speed. She froze, her back pressed against Spike’s hard torso, the palm of his hand in her mouth, unbitten.
.............
Willow and Tara came slowly down the stairs. Buffybot sat on the workbench with her back to them, her left-right leg at an impossible right angle to her torso, her hands busy in front of her. They regarded the back of her shiny blonde head as she bent to her task.
“Er, Lara,” said Tara tentatively. “Sorry to interrupt, but can we ask you a question?”
Buffybot’s head swivelled, and she gave them a big bright grin. “Sure!” she said happily, “I love answering questions! I know all the States, and their capitals, and lots of other really cool stuff about imports and exports.” She swung around, leaving her leg behind, and waved the screwdriver in her hand encouragingly.
“Ah, said Willow, blushing slightly and fiddling with the cuff of her jacket. “It’s not that kind of question - it’s more personal.”
“Is it about going to the bathroom? Xander asked me about that. I never have to go to the bathroom!” said Buffybot happily. “Which is good, because Dawnie uses the bathroom all the time. She’s convinced if she doesn’t deep cleanse her face every morning and evening she’ll get zits!” Buffybot leaned forward confidingly, “She hasn’t got any zits, but she does have pimples - but don’t tell her so, she’ll spend even more time in the bathroom if you do.”
“No, no,” said Tara, casting a rather desperate glance at Willow. “Not a personal question about you. Or Dawn. A personal question about us. Me and Willow.” She caught Willow’s eye and then blushed some more.
“Ooh!” said Buffybot, thrilled. “I know loads of personal stuff about both of you. I know lots and lots and lots of things!” She tapped her screwdriver lightly on her attached leg, as she thought about all the megabytes of information she had tidily arranged in her data files, and cross referenced to infinity.
“The thing is...” began Tara.
“..we were wondering,” said Willow.
“If perhaps...”
“...we’re morethanjustgoodfriends,” said Willow in a rush.
............
Buffy and Spike drew back even deeper into the shadows, as Pussy Contralto thundered past, like an angry undead juggernaut. He stopped at the metal door, and withdrew a large key from his shiny suit pocket. Buffy and Spike tiptoed up behind him. Pussy put the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open, just as Buffy and Spike launched themselves simultaneously and hit him in the back.
Pussy, Buffy and Spike all tumbled in a tangle of limbs down the staircase that lay immediately behind the door. Buffy, who had somehow managed to land on top of the two vampires, leapt to her feet, sword in hand, eliciting shrieks of pain as her sharp high heels dug into vampire flesh, and scrambled past them into the cellar beyond, the hot/cold stone in her pocket blazing against her hip.
“Jonathan,” she cried, “We’re here to save you!”
.............
Buffybot frowned as she thought about Willow's question. “You’re very good friends,” she said. “You program me, Willow, and service me regularly.” She turned to Tara, “and like I said, you’re teaching me reflexology and the history of the novel. And yoga - but I’m having trouble with the breathing exercises.”
“No!” shouted Willow, and then restrained herself. “I mean - obviously you are our friend, Laura, no question. Our good friend.” Buffybot beamed at her. “But we actually meant, are we more than good friends with each other?
“Oh!” Buffybot giggled. “I misunderstood you,” she said happily, “due to the inherent inexactitude of the English language. I’ve got this really cool book on my data file all about gramm...”
“Are we LOVERS?” shouted Willow. “...ers, ers, ers” echoed around the basement and Willow and Tara both jumped, and grabbed one another’s arms.
............
Buffy looked around her wildly, sword flashing. The room was full of wall to floor fish tanks, all brightly illuminated, and there was the metallic tang of blood in the air. Two figures, standing in a small open kitchen, looked up, distracted from their sinister task. There was a shark in shirtsleeves and a bloodstained apron, a cleaver in his hand. A short dark haired boy stood beside him similarly attired, but instead wielding a fish slicer and a kitchen thermometer. A pan bubbled on the stove behind them, and an array of ingredients was set out on the work surface, next to an open fish tank.
“100 degrees - exactly,” said the boy nervously, and with a triumphant shout the shark snatched the pan from the hob and poured its contents into an oven dish.
Buffy blinked. “Are you Jonathan Levinson?” she asked the boy cautiously.
The boy nodded. “Yup - hey, easy on the oregano!” he yelled, as the shark lifted a pinch of green leaves in his fin.
“We’re here to save you,” said Buffy, less enthusiastically this time.
..............
“We seem to share a room,” said Tara blushing madly, as she held Willow’s hand.
“That’s right!” said Buffybot.
“And there are, ahem, some things in the dresser drawer ...”
“Toys!” said Buffybot brightly. “Buzzy ones!”
“Yeah, we noticed the buzziness,” said Willow. She looked at Tara shyly. “So we are ...”
“Yes you are!” said Buffybot, delighted to be giving them the good news. “You have sex in your bedroom all the time, and sometimes in the bathroom. And there was that one time when you both came home with twigs in your hair, and grass stains on your butts, and you said you’d gotten tired and had a nap in the park, but I think ...”
“We’ve got the picture!” said Tara quickly, although a little smile was tugging at her lips.
“You make out on the sofa when you’re watching tv too,” said Buffybot helpfully, “but not during Sesame Street, because Willow says it’s too disturbing when Big Bird is watching.”
Tara snorted.
Buffybot wrinkled her perfect forehead, “Which I don’t really get, but you say,” she pointed at Tara, “that...”
Xander popped his head round the door, saving them from any more revelations. He was chewing something, and his mood had noticeably improved.
“There you gals all are!” he said. Buffybot waved her screwdriver welcomingly. “Come see what Dawn’s found,” said Xander, “They’re way cool.” His head disappeared again.
Willow started up the stairs, and Tara followed her, then turned. “Coming, Lara?”
“I’ll be with you real soon,” said Buffybot, picking up her soldering iron in a purposeful manner, and adjusting her left-right leg to the traditional angle.
And Tara ran up the stairs after her girlfriend to see what cool things Dawn had found.
Feedback is very welcome!
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