Title: KARMA
Author: Nmissi
Rating: PG-13 for light language.
Part 1/1
Summary: Nmissi's post-"Gift" contribution. No, I don't have a scenario for bringing Buffy back.
Archive: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it winds up.
Feedback: Please! Nmissi@bellsouth.net
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. Don't sue me.
Homepage: http://personal.sdf.bellsouth.net/sdf/j/k/jknuss01/
Bright eyes smiled over at him, from across the kitchen of the Summers' home. Early morning sunlight streamed through the windows, so he held the blanket loosely around himself.
"Are you sure you won't stay for breakfast?"
She rushed for the fridge, pulling out a juice container full of blood. As he shook his head and made his excuses, she looked at him hopefully.
"No, I'm sorry. I can't. I just came to bring the Nibblet home, and I really should be going."
Really, REALLY should be going. As in, he couldn't get out of here fast enough.
Dawn glared at him, sitting slump-shouldered at the table.
"Asshole," she muttered beneath her breath.
The bot looked dejected, as she replaced the juice bottle and turned back to Dawn.
"Honestly, I don't know WHAT you were thinking, sneaking out like that. It isn't safe out there at night- you know that."
Dawn flipped her the bird; the bot pretended not to notice as she returned to the stove.
"Will you at least have some pancakes with us? I can throw some more on, it's no trouble, Spike."
He cringed. She was so pathetic- Had he really made her to be this needy? This goddamn PERKY?
"No, I have to go."
He was brusquer than he'd intended to be, but he had to get out of there. He wheeled around, and lifted his blanket back over his head. He shouldn't have agreed to come inside to begin with, but Dawn had ahold of his arm, and the bot had been so damned happy to see them both.
Somehow she beat him to the door. As his hands went out to the knob, she was in front of him suddenly. She beamed at him and ducked in close, bringing her arms around him, inclining her head back.
His stomach turned over. Oh, God. She wanted a goodbye kiss. He felt slightly sick.
He groaned, and tried to extricate himself from her. But she melded tightly against him, and so finally he brought his lips down to her hair. It smelled like Vanilla, just like Buffy's hair, like Buffy's shampoo.
But the texture was too perfect. His mouth was dry as he kissed the top of her head. Then firmly, he shoved her back.
"Must go now, Slayer. Take care of my Nibblet."
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, but she stepped away and smiled at him broadly.
"Oh, I will, Spike. She's my sister!"
He pulled the door shut and turned his back to it, gulping for unneeded air on the front porch. Then he raced for his car. Inside, he turned the ignition key with shaking fingers.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep coming here, and seeing it in Her House. It was all grotesque and horrible. He didn't see why they couldn't just have melted it in the first place. He'd have taken the girl, or maybe she could have lived with the witches. Even the whelp and his idiot girlfriend had to be better than this travesty.
It could not continue. He reached into the pocket of his duster and dredged up the flask, drinking deeply. Just a few swigs, and the shakes stopped.
As he headed down the road, he turned off towards the college.
*********************
"Spike, we've been over this already, okay?"
The redheaded witch looked at the vampire sympathetically. She understood how difficult this was for him- It was hard for all of them.
"Look, Red...I know you lot thought this was the answer. And I know, I was too drunk to really participate in any discussions at the time- Not that I was entitled or anything, mind you. I know that. But I
still think it's a bad idea. That thing.... It's not Buffy. And sooner or later, somebody's gonna twig to it and this whole mess is gonna come apart."
Tara placed a mug in front of him, and he looked at it for a second as if it were some sort of strange foreign object. After a minute, he gathered his wits and responded.
"Thanks, dumplin."
He sipped on the warm blood, while Willow reiterated her reasons for repairing the Buffybot. He tuned them out after a few moments, preferring instead to speculate upon why all these women kept trying to feed him lately.
"All right, all right...I get that. You won't deactivate the robot. Fine. But will you at least remove some of the programming? Jesus, Red...I can't see it without it coming on to me."
He watched as her soft pink mouth hardened into a small smirk. Rolling his eyes at her, he went on.
"I have to patrol with it. I have to see it when I see Dawn."
His voice broke suddenly.
"It tried to kiss me goodbye this morning, Wil. ... What am I supposed to do when that happens?"
The pain in his voice took the Righteousness out of her argument. She deflated in the face of such hopeless despair.
She reached for his hand, but he snatched it away. Her head lowered, and she started again, gently.
"Spike, the way the bot feels about you...Near as I can tell, it's deep. Like, Subroutines deep. I- I don't think I can reprogram that out of her."
He looked at her pointedly.
"Not her, Wil. ..IT. It's not Buffy, it's a thing."
The witch sighed deeply. Behind her, Tara began washing dishes in the sink. The phone rang.
"Look, I am sorry this is so hard for you. If I could program it differently, I would. But I'm not Warren, Spike. I'm good, but I'm not that good. She- She....I'd have to rebuild it completely. The computer, I mean. And once that's done, all the original programming would be gone. I don't know that I could restore it. She's got all these amazing files and programs...Slay routines, Lore Files....Somehow Warren made her a Slayer. She's got the speed, the agility- the knowledge."
He grimaced, and lit himself a cigarette. He knew the extent of her programming. He'd been damned insistent upon it. She was in every way a slayer. She just wasn't HIS Slayer.
"And I don't know how he did it, Spike.... But he made her 'Good'. Somehow the weird lil creep made her Loyal, and he made her Loving. She loves Dawn, Spike. Somehow those emotional subroutines; they're real. She feels real love for Dawn. She'd do anything for her. She loves like a sister."
Her warm brown eyes met his cool blue ones, and there was affection in them.
"I- I sorta think Dawn needs that, right now. She's lost so much already...."
In the kitchen, Tara spoke quietly on the telephone, before hanging up. She came back to the table, a slight look of worry creasing her brow.
"Spike, that was..."
She bit her lip and wondered who she should say was calling. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised, patiently waiting.
"... Buffy. I mean, You know..."
She looked away, uncomfortable.
Spike's gaze hardened, and his shoulders drooped, as the girl continued.
"She says she needs a ride over to the school. Dawn got into a fistfight with another girl."
He stood up slowly, heaviness in his steps as he headed towards the door.
"You'd think for what she cost me, he could have at least programmed her to drive," he grumbled.
Author: Nmissi
Rating: PG-13 for light language.
Part 1/1
Summary: Nmissi's post-"Gift" contribution. No, I don't have a scenario for bringing Buffy back.
Archive: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it winds up.
Feedback: Please! Nmissi@bellsouth.net
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. Don't sue me.
Homepage: http://personal.sdf.bellsouth.net/sdf/j/k/jknuss01/
Bright eyes smiled over at him, from across the kitchen of the Summers' home. Early morning sunlight streamed through the windows, so he held the blanket loosely around himself.
"Are you sure you won't stay for breakfast?"
She rushed for the fridge, pulling out a juice container full of blood. As he shook his head and made his excuses, she looked at him hopefully.
"No, I'm sorry. I can't. I just came to bring the Nibblet home, and I really should be going."
Really, REALLY should be going. As in, he couldn't get out of here fast enough.
Dawn glared at him, sitting slump-shouldered at the table.
"Asshole," she muttered beneath her breath.
The bot looked dejected, as she replaced the juice bottle and turned back to Dawn.
"Honestly, I don't know WHAT you were thinking, sneaking out like that. It isn't safe out there at night- you know that."
Dawn flipped her the bird; the bot pretended not to notice as she returned to the stove.
"Will you at least have some pancakes with us? I can throw some more on, it's no trouble, Spike."
He cringed. She was so pathetic- Had he really made her to be this needy? This goddamn PERKY?
"No, I have to go."
He was brusquer than he'd intended to be, but he had to get out of there. He wheeled around, and lifted his blanket back over his head. He shouldn't have agreed to come inside to begin with, but Dawn had ahold of his arm, and the bot had been so damned happy to see them both.
Somehow she beat him to the door. As his hands went out to the knob, she was in front of him suddenly. She beamed at him and ducked in close, bringing her arms around him, inclining her head back.
His stomach turned over. Oh, God. She wanted a goodbye kiss. He felt slightly sick.
He groaned, and tried to extricate himself from her. But she melded tightly against him, and so finally he brought his lips down to her hair. It smelled like Vanilla, just like Buffy's hair, like Buffy's shampoo.
But the texture was too perfect. His mouth was dry as he kissed the top of her head. Then firmly, he shoved her back.
"Must go now, Slayer. Take care of my Nibblet."
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, but she stepped away and smiled at him broadly.
"Oh, I will, Spike. She's my sister!"
He pulled the door shut and turned his back to it, gulping for unneeded air on the front porch. Then he raced for his car. Inside, he turned the ignition key with shaking fingers.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep coming here, and seeing it in Her House. It was all grotesque and horrible. He didn't see why they couldn't just have melted it in the first place. He'd have taken the girl, or maybe she could have lived with the witches. Even the whelp and his idiot girlfriend had to be better than this travesty.
It could not continue. He reached into the pocket of his duster and dredged up the flask, drinking deeply. Just a few swigs, and the shakes stopped.
As he headed down the road, he turned off towards the college.
*********************
"Spike, we've been over this already, okay?"
The redheaded witch looked at the vampire sympathetically. She understood how difficult this was for him- It was hard for all of them.
"Look, Red...I know you lot thought this was the answer. And I know, I was too drunk to really participate in any discussions at the time- Not that I was entitled or anything, mind you. I know that. But I
still think it's a bad idea. That thing.... It's not Buffy. And sooner or later, somebody's gonna twig to it and this whole mess is gonna come apart."
Tara placed a mug in front of him, and he looked at it for a second as if it were some sort of strange foreign object. After a minute, he gathered his wits and responded.
"Thanks, dumplin."
He sipped on the warm blood, while Willow reiterated her reasons for repairing the Buffybot. He tuned them out after a few moments, preferring instead to speculate upon why all these women kept trying to feed him lately.
"All right, all right...I get that. You won't deactivate the robot. Fine. But will you at least remove some of the programming? Jesus, Red...I can't see it without it coming on to me."
He watched as her soft pink mouth hardened into a small smirk. Rolling his eyes at her, he went on.
"I have to patrol with it. I have to see it when I see Dawn."
His voice broke suddenly.
"It tried to kiss me goodbye this morning, Wil. ... What am I supposed to do when that happens?"
The pain in his voice took the Righteousness out of her argument. She deflated in the face of such hopeless despair.
She reached for his hand, but he snatched it away. Her head lowered, and she started again, gently.
"Spike, the way the bot feels about you...Near as I can tell, it's deep. Like, Subroutines deep. I- I don't think I can reprogram that out of her."
He looked at her pointedly.
"Not her, Wil. ..IT. It's not Buffy, it's a thing."
The witch sighed deeply. Behind her, Tara began washing dishes in the sink. The phone rang.
"Look, I am sorry this is so hard for you. If I could program it differently, I would. But I'm not Warren, Spike. I'm good, but I'm not that good. She- She....I'd have to rebuild it completely. The computer, I mean. And once that's done, all the original programming would be gone. I don't know that I could restore it. She's got all these amazing files and programs...Slay routines, Lore Files....Somehow Warren made her a Slayer. She's got the speed, the agility- the knowledge."
He grimaced, and lit himself a cigarette. He knew the extent of her programming. He'd been damned insistent upon it. She was in every way a slayer. She just wasn't HIS Slayer.
"And I don't know how he did it, Spike.... But he made her 'Good'. Somehow the weird lil creep made her Loyal, and he made her Loving. She loves Dawn, Spike. Somehow those emotional subroutines; they're real. She feels real love for Dawn. She'd do anything for her. She loves like a sister."
Her warm brown eyes met his cool blue ones, and there was affection in them.
"I- I sorta think Dawn needs that, right now. She's lost so much already...."
In the kitchen, Tara spoke quietly on the telephone, before hanging up. She came back to the table, a slight look of worry creasing her brow.
"Spike, that was..."
She bit her lip and wondered who she should say was calling. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised, patiently waiting.
"... Buffy. I mean, You know..."
She looked away, uncomfortable.
Spike's gaze hardened, and his shoulders drooped, as the girl continued.
"She says she needs a ride over to the school. Dawn got into a fistfight with another girl."
He stood up slowly, heaviness in his steps as he headed towards the door.
"You'd think for what she cost me, he could have at least programmed her to drive," he grumbled.