Chapter 4 - Buffybot Blends In - and Spike is Blackmailed
Buffybot stood, bouncing a little on her toes, and gazed benignly at the policeman in front of her. He looked like a policeman she thought approvingly. And she liked a policeman who looked like a policeman. It made it much easier to avoid hitting them with swords, or accidentally punching them in the eye. But Commander Vimes had the unmistakeable stamp of domestic law enforcement, and the air of a man so used to wearing uniform that he'd look odd in any thing else. Of course, right now he was wearing a doublet with puffy sleeves, and his legs were clad in tights, but she could see that was not his natural look. Perhaps he was doing amateur dramatics later?
Right now he was reading her application form, head bowed, the occasional humph emerging as he got to a juicy bit. She concentrated on looking keen. It had been a secret ambition of hers to join the police force in Sunnydale, though she had known it could never be. Now there was chance - at least until Tara and Willow and Giles worked out a way to summon her home. She hoped it wasn't too wicked to hope that it would take them a little while to do.
Commander Vimes scratched his head, and looked at the application form before him, ignoring the fact that recruitment was not strictly his job these days. Carrot was out patrolling, so there was no harm him helping out, was there? He leaned back in the familiar chair, and put his foot up on the conveniently half open desk drawer, just as he'd always done, and looked at the paper again. The girl couldn't spell of course - but then none of his other Watchmen could spell either. Or write, some of them. And her name ... Buffy Bott, eh? He was well acquainted with the Bott family, of course. They lived in String Lane, and last year had accounted for a few cases of petty theft, several drunk in charge, an affray and some twenty six counts of public nuisance. (The public nuisance charges related to Lancelot Bott's habit of practising his trumpet with the window open. The affray charge came on the day one of his neighbours had rammed a turnip up it).
All in all, then, the Botts were a family of fine upstanding citizens by Shades standards. Buffy Bott was new to him, but Fred Colon had told him she had a very effective kick to the goolies in her armoury, and she certainly had a extremely positive attitude to law enforcement. Also, the number of women in the Watch remained very small. It made sense to recruit her. But still. He looked at the shiny headed recruit rocking on her toes in front of him, down and up, from her strange white cloth shoes, past her dwarf-style trousers and inexplicably glossy jacket, to her suspiciously clean neck, wondering absently why her skin was that funny biscuit colour. As his eyes reached her face she zinged him a dazzling smile that made her look even more half-witted than before.
Dropped on her head as a baby, perhaps, he mused; it would explain a lot. Although, of course, brain damage was no bar to a career in the Watch. But was it really appropriate to have a Guard who was so very, very bouncy? And pretty? And wholesome? And happy in her work? Something in his soul revolted at the idea.
"Hmm. You can spell your name - I think - and you can salute without knocking yourself out, that's good. But let's just see, Miss Bott," he said slowly, "how effective you are with a weapon in your hand."
"Ooh!" cried Buffybot, "I love weapons. Can I have a sword? A shiny one? I'm really good with a sword - and with axes, clubs, spears, knives and maces. I haven't cut my own ear off in ages."
Vimes winced. Was that Bott family humour? He headed downstairs, summoning the new recruit with a finger, listening glumly as she skipped merrily down the stairs behind him. Merry skipping was not appropriate to the Watch. Steady, purposeful treads were what was needed. Perhaps he could put a stop to the skipping by insisting she wore boots? A pair of Geo. 'Strange' Device's super-economy paper-lined boots would take the skip out of anybody. He squared his shoulders and nodded grimly - it was a plan.
Meanwhile, back in Sunnydale, a revolt was in progress. Spike leaned against the living room wall and folded his arms. "I won't do it. There is no way I'm risking my pretty white undead skin for a walking tin can. And I'm not going to get transported to another world again, either. It's always bloody happening around here, and I'm sick of it." He gestured to the chalice in front of him, and the knife, and the pentagram sketched hastily in front of it. "I am not stepping into that thing. Under no circumstances. N. O. Which spells piss off, the lot of you."
Giles rolled his eyes. "We are not asking you to transport to another world, Spike. We are simply asking you to step into the void that will be opened by our spell, and pull Buffybot back out with you. I'd do it myself - but no living thing can exist in the void. You can. And Buffybot too. Though she qualifies through a technicality, really..."
Willow coughed, heading Giles off before he could be distracted by the arcane rules of multi dimensional rifts. "It'll be easy," she said, "and not dangerous at all."
"Well, as far as we know, anyway," Tara added conscientiously.
"And then we'll give you back the tv remote." Anya waved the remote in question and Xander grinned at her. He was enjoying this.
"And the tv." Buffy patted the tv, that lay by her feet, looking slightly battered after being the subject of a recent tug of war between Slayer and vampire.
"There are other tvs in this town, you know," said Spike. He stood upright and faced them all defiantly. "In fact, I'm off to watch one of them now."
Willow smiled. "And I can scramble the signal of every single of them. Without even raising a sweat. I've been practising for the final of American Idol." She looked at Tara and grinned, "Okay, I really wouldn't do it, but a girl can dream."
Spike turned and cast her a evil look. "This is blackmail. Call yourselves the good guys?"
Tara shifted uncomfortably, and Willow patted her hand. "It's for the greater good, sweetie," she said. "Buffybot belongs here with us. Just think what awful things might be happening to her in that terrible Void."
"What's terrible about it?" Spike narrowed his eyes. "There's something you're not telling me about this, isn't there?"
Buffy looked at her nails, "It's a piece of cake. I don't know why you're making such a deal out of it." She muttered something under her breath that might have been,"You big wuss."
Giles nodded. "You can be in and out again in less than 10 seconds, Bot in hand. It's really childishly simple - step in, take hold of her collar and step out again. Even you can do that." He coughed and looked at his watch, "Kick-off in 10 minutes, Spike."
Tara smiled a little uncertain smile. "That really should be all it takes, Spike. The other side of the rift will open right by Buffybot, wherever she is. You just have to lean out, grab her and step back."
Spike gave an exasperated growl. "All right, all right, all right. I'll collar your stray." He held up a finger, "If we can do it before kick-off."
"Well then," said Willow, bouncing on her toes eagerly, "let's get on with it."
She and Tara bent over their spell book and began to chant, with Giles leaning over their shoulders, his lips moving in synch as he checked their Latin. Xander stepped forward, made a little nick in his elbow with the knife, squeezed a drop of blood into the chalice and turned to face them.
"There's a drop of the blood from a fine healthy young American buck for ya, ladies. So much safer than Dawn blood, or Buffy blood, or ex-demon's blood, or even witch's blood." He grinned, and then jumped back hastily as the chalice began to bubble and puff smoke. "Wow, I guess it's pretty strong stuff all the same." He flexed his bicep, pleased.
The smoke from the chalice poured out from over the rim, and began to sink and then to whirl, widdershins about. It darkened to grey and then to black, and slowly a swirling hole of dark emptiness began to form in its centre. A howling noise began, drowning out the noise of the steady chanting.
"Right," said Spike, with no enthusiasm at all. He stepped forward over the line of the pentagram, and into the swirling smoke. He put one foot into the dark void, paused as he found a footing, and put the other in. He began to sink rapidly into the floor, first his feet, then his legs, his hips, his chest, and finally his shining bleached blond head, until only his crown was visible.
Faintly, over the howling of the rift they heard his voice. "Hey, three girls in a bed, this might not be so bad after ..." He was drowned out by a huge sucking noise like the biggest carpet cleaner in creation trying to suck up a mammoth hairball. A huge blast of cold air erupted from the rift, sending papers fluttering and hair flying. The swirling hole reduced to the size of a pin, and was gone.
"Okay," said Buffy after a long pause. "So, which of you rocket scientists kicked over the chalice?"
End Chapter