“Goodbye, Trish! Goodbye Roger! It was so wonderful meeting you both!”
The morning light was still shining over the Hyperion Hotel as Buffybot, clad quite smartly in a snug-fitting pant and blouse combo loaned her by Cordelia Chase, said her farewells to Roger and Trish Burkle. After returning from an early morning breakfast with their daughter Fred, they had now loaded up their taxi and were finally getting ready to head back home.
“You take care now, Miss robot,” Trish said, giving Buffybot a hug, “...you need any fixing up or what not, you just see my Winifred. She’ll keep you running smooth.”
“Momma,” Fred said, blushing, though secretly hoping for the chance to do just that. Roger put an arm around his daughter.
“Kept my TV runnin’ for years,” he pointed out with pride, “...how much trouble could a robot be?”
“Don’t ask that,” Cordelia said with a smile, giving the Burkles her own goodbye hugs, “...chances are, we’re gonna find out.”
“You two have a good flight,” Gunn added, shaking Rogers hand with gusto. Waiting his turn, Wesley followed suit.
“You’re sure you wouldn’t like to stay one more day?” He asked, looking at them both in turn, “...you did have a rather stressful evening, what with the demon attack and all.”
“Appreciate the offer, son,” Roger replied, “...but it takes more’n a blood-crazed demon body snatcher to make a Texan change his travel plans. You take care of my little girl, now.”
Wesley and Gunn both smartened up. “We will,” they said in unison, giving one another a curious look afterwards. Fred giggled.
“My boys,” she said shyly. Her Mother stepped over to her and took Fred’s hands in hers.
“You be sure to call all the time, now,” she told Fred dutifully, “...and you watch yourself. And come home for a visit real soon!”
“I promise,” Fred agreed, falling into a hug. Buffybot watched with fascination. Mothers certainly seemed very nice! She felt badly that Buffy and Dawn lost theirs. She never exactly understood why their Father was never around. He must have been a very busy fellow, she decided.

Several hugs and goodbyes later, the taxi pulled away from the Hotel, and Buffybot and the others returned inside. Angel, who had said his farewells indoors, was absent-mindedly flipping through files behind the lobby desk. He looked bored.
“I hate goodbyes,” Cordelia said decisively as she strolled into the lobby. Buffybot thought about that, following close behind.
“It’s sad,” she mused out loud, “...but you do get to hug! And that’s nice!”
“Oh please,” Cordy said with a dismissive wave, “...it’s too early in the morning for optimism. Whoever programmed you sure didn’t know Buffy Summers.”
Buffybot frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Cordelia stopped and turned to face the confused robot. “You’re just so...perky! And what with the smiling and everything...Buffy’s all duty, and doom and gloom and...”
Noticing Angel staring disapprovingly over at her, Cordelia pointed him out to Buffybot. “...Well, just look at who she DATED, for cryin’ out loud!”
“Hey!”
“Huh,” Buffybot noted, staring at Angel. That WAS a good point...although up until now, she had only ever heard nice things about Buffy. She sure didn’t like to hear her namesake wasn’t happy. Nice people should be happy, Buffybot was quite certain of that.
“Do we have anything on the agenda for today?” Wesley asked, eager to change the subject. Gunn, who had already joined Angel behind the counter, shook his head.
“Nothing, “ he said, a bored sigh escaping his mouth, “...we’re agenda-free.”
“Something’ll turn up,” Angel added hopefully, turning back to his page-flipping. Buffybot was starting to become interested.
“What will turn up?” she asked, peeking over at the files Angel was perusing. Without particularly knowing why, he shielded them from her view. “Do we need something on our Agenda? Because maybe I could help!”
“They mean a case,” Fred explained, easing the bot away from Angel, “...we take cases here. To help people?”
Buffybot smiled excitedly. “I help people! I could...”
“Down girl,” Cordelia ordered, “...we’ll explain it all over shopping, like civilized people.”
Suddenly, Angel looked up from the unimportant tax receipts he was jealously guarding from view. “You’re going shopping?”
“Well, duh!” Cordelia snapped, glaring sternly at Angel and pointing back at Buffybot. “Have you seen the way she came to us? No bags, no nothing. One outfit! I’m not so far removed from the old Cordelia that the thought of a girl...even a mechanical one...with only one outfit doesn’t send a chill down my spine.”
Cordy turned back, sizing Buffybot up with a tailors eye. “I am taking this poor waif on a humanitarian shopping spree. There’s nothing else for it. Angel,”
Turning back again, Cordelia stuck her hand out palm up. “...gimme some money.”
The vampire looked stunned. “What? Me? But...”
“Angel, you help the helpless!” Cordelia explained, as if to a five year old, “...well, Buffybot here is helpless in the original, fashion-inspired sense of the word. Money. Now.”
Angel stood there looking flustered, trying to think up a great reason not to do what he was being told. Cordy remained with expectant hand out, glaring at her boss. In response to the standoff, Buffybot circled around the counter and helpfully whispered in Angel’s ear.
“I think she wants you to give her some money,” she explained to him patiently. He gave her a wicked stare, then lumbered off towards the safe. Buffybot smiled, happy to have helped to clear up his confusion. They’d be friends in NO time at this rate!

“Man, you are SO whipped.”
To his credit, Gunn had waited until Cordelia, Fred and Buffybot had left the Hotel to voice his unflattering opinion towards Angel. The vampire failed to see that bright side of the equation.
“I am not whipped,” he snapped back decisively, “...I just wanted to get her out of here for a while so we could talk. Figure out what’s going on with her.”
“Cordelia?” Wesley asked, shutting a file cabinet drawer he’d been leafing through, “...I hadn’t noticed anything unusual with her. Unless you mean her vision yesterday?”
“Not Cordy. Her. It. You know who I mean.”
“Buffybot?” Gunn asked, munching on a morning donut from the fridge. Angel nodded.
“That’s the one. Am I the only one with some serious questions about why she’s here?”
“She did save all of our lives, Angel...”
“Not denying that, Wes. And I’m grateful.”
Gunn took another mouthful of donut. “But..?”
“But what is she? That story of hers about being alive, coming back from the dead...it’s a lot to take on faith, you’ve got to admit.”
Wesley folded his arms. “Indeed. A creature that isn’t even supposed to exist, claiming to have a soul and returning from the grave...surely only a lunatic would buy that load of bollocks.”
Angel cast a furtive scowl at Wesley’s smirk. “I see what you’re doing, don’t think I don’t see it. But we’re not talking about me.”
“Man’s not talking crazy,” Gunn noted between gulps, “...I mean, I’m on the robots side here, but it IS pretty freaky. We ever hear of something like this before?”
“As far as I know, it’s quite unprecedented, if true.” Wesley said. “I’ve only ever heard one or two vague references to any sort of mechanical or robotic creatures existing. I’d have to do more research, but I don’t know that it would shed any particular light on the Buffybot’s claims of sentience.”
“Which is my point.” Angel looked at both his teammates, hoping for a glimmer of sympathy on this note. He was refreshed to see a little of exactly that.
“She’s living in the hotel,” he pointed out, “...and for all we know she was built at the Wolfram and Hart labs.”
“Or by Doctor Frankenstein,” Gunn added, “...point taken. So what do we do? Get Fred to crack her open, see what makes her tick?”
“If it’s her story we’re looking to verify,” Wesley noted with interest, “...then I’m thinking there may be a very simple method of finding out. One way or the other.”

“What way?”
“Uh, doesn’t matter...clockwise, let’s say. Go.”
Doing as she was told, Buffybot did a slow turn for Cordelia. With a calculating eye, Cordy sized up how her wardrobe selections were faring on her charge. Fred was rummaging somewhere nearby, just plain fascinated by all the different fabrics, as if they were alien specimens.
“Hmm. I don’t know...does Buffy’s butt really look like that?”
Buffybot stopped circling. “Pretty much,” she answered. Cordelia shrugged.
“Guess I never really checked it out before. We’re gonna have to compensate here.”
Buffybot frowned. “Compensate for what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cordelia shouted over her shoulder, skimming a rack of overpriced jeans, “...you’re in good hands.”
Stopping herself before defensively declaring that there was nothing wrong with her butt (or Buffys!), Buffybot decided to trust Cordy. She was her new friend! And according to her files, she DID have excellent fashion sense.
“So you and Angel help people?” Buffybot asked, finally unable to suppress her curiosity any longer. “People with cases?”
“Something like that.” Cordy answered absent mindedly, absorbed by several blouses she was comparing. Fred skipped over, arms clasped behind her back.
“It’s all pretty cool,” she said with a toothy smile, “...Cordelia gets the visions, from the Powers. They send us out to help the helpless, fight the demons...”
“Pay the bills...”
Fred nodded, admitting Cordelia’s point. “Sometimes, people pay us to help. Not always, of course, but...enough. We’re official professional paranormal investigators!”
Buffybot pondered that for a moment, running the concept of being paid for heroic deeds through her ethical batteries. After a few split-seconds of contemplation, she came to a decision.
“That’s super!” She accentuated her approval with a hearty smile, one that Cordelia noted with a raised eyebrow and smirk as she held a rather daring shirt up in front of Botty’s torso.
“Super duper,” she sarcastically agreed, lost in thought, “...how do you feel about plunging v-necks?”
Buffybot’s eyes popped with recognition. “That’s funny,” she noted. Cordelia stared.
“It’s just...Dawn asked me the exact same question, once. When we were shopping.”
Buffybot’s smile faded ever so slightly, prompting concerned looks from Fred and Cordy. Pulling the offending blouse away, Cordelia reached a hand over to lightly touch Buffybot on the wrist.
“Aw, hey...I’m sorry. You miss her, don’t you?”
“I do,” Buffybot answered quietly, staring at the floor for a second. A second later, she snapped back to attention, the smile back on her face. “But it’s okay. I’m here now, in Los Angeles, and...I have brand NEW friends! So it’s okay now, right?”
Fred and Cordelia both shared an uncertain look, before turning back to give Buffybot their best supportive-face. She nodded appreciatively, happily shunting the previous moment’s train of thought into her emotional buffers.
“Tell me more about being investigators!”

“You have to give me some sort of answer, Angel. You can’t just...”
“I know, I know! Just gimme a minute here, Wes.”
“You’ve had a minute! Angel, if you’re saying you can’t do it, just say so.”
“No shame, man. The lady’s a mystery to you is all.”
Angel glared at Gunn. “I suppose you think you know her?”
“Don’t ask me. This is supposed to be up to you, isn’t it?”
“It is...I know. I know, just...”
After a few seconds of anguished thought, Angel looked up at Wesley. “Could you repeat the question?”
Glancing down, Wesley peered at the small question card in his palm. “‘Arguably the most successful female race car driver in American sports, she was the basis for the film ‘Heart Like a Wheel.’”
Wesley looked studiously at Angel, whose brow was almost knotting in concentration. “Ahh, I KNOW this! I know this. Is it...”
Moments passed on that pause, as Angels face shifted from hopeful to desperate and, finally, defeat. He slumped onto the counter.
“I give up.”
Wesley smirked, glancing at Gunn. “Charles?”
Smiling broadly, Gunn hopped off his stool. “Cha Cha, baby, Shirley Muldowney. Booyah!”
Angel gritted his teeth and shook. “I KNEW that!”
“Oh, really?” Gunn asked mockingly, “...cause I don’t recall hearin’ YOU nailing that embarrassingly easy question a minute ago, mister ‘I’m older than dirt but I’m gettin’ my ass whipped at Trivial Pursuit by a mere mortal’.”
Wesley cast Angel a disparaging look. “You really should have gotten that one, Angel.”
Angel glared back at his co-workers, willing himself to unclench his fists. “We need a case,” he muttered. A second later, much to his delight, the lobby doors opened. Cordelia was the first one to enter.
“You’re back,” Angel noted rather unnecessarily. Cordelia ignored him, shaking her head. “It’s not my fault,” she said flatly. That earned her a few stares.
“Beg pardon?”
Glaring at Wesley, Cordelia looked extremely frustrated. “What she’s wearing? Not my fault! All the GOOD clothes are in boxes in the trunk. I had NOTHING to do with what she’s wearing now. She insisted.”
That last sentence came out with more than a drop of acid. Shortly afterwards, voices could be heard from outside approaching the door.
“...Adams? Wow, you really should...you’re like, the opposite of Marvin! He’s an android? Only he’s always depressed, and YOU’RE always happy, well it seems like y’are anyways...”
“Well, I try!” Buffybot replied, happily as it were, opening the door to the hotel for Fred as they entered. The robot was decked out in a brown trenchcoat, dark sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed fedora, looking very much as if she had just walked off the set of a particularly perky film noir. She flashed a huge smile, which was met with several awkward, gaping stares.
“How do I look?” She asked brightly, tilting the brim of her hat down, “...I’m all ready to start detecting!”
Wesley cleared his throat loudly. “Well...it’s...well. You look very...very...”
“Rumply,” Gunn finished, raising an eyebrow at the ensemble. Cordelia turned from the sight, sidling up to Angel.
“Not my fault...”
Angel smiled and nodded at the ‘bot, gritting his teeth as he whispered back to Cordy. “You didn’t offer her a job here yet, did you..?”
“No! She just got all excited when I told her what we did, and, bam! Barbie meets Columbo. Very scary.”
“I think she looks great!” Fred added with a geeky giggle, “...and I got kinda reminded of Dirk Gently, but she hasn’t read any Douglas Adams, which I thought was kind of a shame on account of they’re so good, and there’s a robot in Hithchiker, so I was tellin’ her, you’ve just GOTTA read them, and of course I’ve got them all, but I’ll have to call my folks and get them to send them to me, which they probably wouldn’t mind doin’. Have to wait until they actually get home, of course, unless I’m plannin’ on bendin’ time with some sort of tachyon dispersal!”
That seemed hysterically funny to Fred, who let out a whooping laugh, immediately followed by a deep reddening when she noticed no one else got the joke. She coughed a few times, composing herself. “Or we could just find a used bookstore around here...”
“Did we get a case today?” Buffybot asked with enthusiasm, stepping forward. “I’m TOTALLY ready to help with detecting!”
Angel glanced at Cordelia. “‘We’..?”
“Not my fault.”
“Buffybot,” Wesley began, stepping forward, “...it’s not that we don’t appreciate your considerable enthusiasm. And certainly we all owe you a debt of gratitude for last night.”
“Oh, golly no! I should thank you all again for letting me stay here! You’re all SUPER nice!”
Cordelia blinked. “Okay, I know that’s a first for ME...”
“It was nothing,” Wesley continued, “...but before we all get too distracted, I...there’s something we’d like you to do for us.”
Buffybot smiled sharply. “You name it! I’m here to help!”
“We just gotta take a little trip,” Gunn added, “...there’s someone we want you to meet. He’s gonna help us to...get to know you. Sort of.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“We’ll explain on the way,” Wesley said, “...I’ll bring the car around so Angel can get in. Everyone coming?”
Cordelia shrugged. “What the heck...if we’re going where I think we’re going, maybe I can at least get a good stiff drink.”
Everyone started moving towards the rear entrance, Buffybot being tugged along by Fred. “I still don’t understand,” she said, “...where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Fred smiled, having correctly deduced what Wesley and the boys had planned. “It’ll be okay, really! Fun, even.”
Buffybot nodded as she walked. “I DO like fun...and do you really think you could bend time with a tachyon dispersal?”
“Well, sure! Theoretically anyway, if you could generate a powerful enough burst. But the math would be pretty complex as far as aiming goes...you could end up anywhere!”
As they rounded a corner, Botty raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. “TELL me about it.”

The trip didn’t take long (they’d made it so many times at this point, they knew all the shortcuts). There was decent cloud cover that day, so it wasn’t even too much trouble getting Angel inside. Fred rang the buzzer, waiting a few moments for the electronic signal to be sent from within to unlock the door.
As soon as it did, she and the others descended the stairs into Caritas. Buffybot wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived...and even Angel and the gang got a little more than they were bargaining for.
“...For the last time, no deal! Now if you’ll excuse me, you can see I have a prior appointment?”
The Host of Caritas (more affectionately known to his compatriots as Lorne) motioned none-too-subtly for his unexpected guest to depart, the same way Buffybot and the others had just entered. He seemed quite annoyed with his visitor, an attractive woman in a dark suit holding a file folder stuffed with legal documents. Neither Buffybot nor anyone else present recognized her. Although Angel and his team had a pretty good first guess as to who she worked for. Something about the way Wolfram and Hart tailored their suits...
“Lorne?” Angel asked, taking a step forward. A moment later, he was brushed aside by a speeding Buffybot, who bounded past him in between Lorne and his visitor.
“Back you fiend!” She shouted, giving Lorne a hard shove, knocking him back up against his bar. She spared a glance backwards.
“Don’t worry miss...I’ll protect you!”
Lorne drew a breath, shaking the sudden attack off as best he could manage. Angel started moving in to defuse the situation when Fred called out.
“Buffybot, NO!”
“Fred!”
Wesley’s shout came too late, and Fred suddenly bit her lip, realizing her mistake. Buffybot froze, holding her ground and wondering why her new friends weren’t also rushing to defend the woman behind her from the demon. Then Angel took the demon by the hand, helping him to catch his breath, and now she was starting to get REALLY confused.
The woman behind her, however, seemed just the opposite, as a gleam of clarity shone in her eyes.
“Buffybot?” She repeated, intrigued, “...now that, I didn’t expect.”
“What in the name of sweet Esther Williams is going on here?” Shaking loose from Angel’s grip, Lorne straightened out his kimono. “First lawyers, now the assault of the killer bimbo? I’ve got to stop answering that buzzer!”
“Hey!” Buffybot straightened up, her colloquialism centers alerting her that ‘bimbo’ was almost certainly derogatory in nature. She wished she knew what was going on.
“Take it easy!” Angel ordered, waving for Buffybot to stand down. “This is Lorne...he’s a friend.” Buffybot double-checked her scan readings. “But...he’s a demon!”
“Huh. Thanks for noticing, cupcake.” Lorne tugged on the neck of his kimono, strolling back around the bar and grabbing a bottle off the shelves. He poured himself a tall shot and downed it in one gulp. Buffybot was starting to feel embarrassment, although she shuffled that off to her emotional buffers as soon as they started to appear. Still...she had just assumed that the human was the one she had come to see. That made sense.
“I’m sorry,”
Buffybot turned as the woman behind her spoke up, extending a hand in greeting towards her. Automatically, Buffybot shook it.
“....I seem to have caused a bit of trouble. My apologies. I’m Lara Markham, Wolfram and Hart. It’s a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Buffybot.”
“Thank you!” Buffybot put on a cheery smile, happy to have made a new friend. When she turned back to the others, she quickly noticed none of them had similar reactions.
“Get out.”
Buffybot looked surprised at Angels gruffness towards her new friend, although Lara took it in stride. “I assure you, there’s no malice in my visit here today, Angel. I was merely tabling an offer.”
“Which, I might add,” Lorne noted, “...has been soundly rejected. The club isn’t for sale, period.”
“Sale?” Wesley narrowed his eyes towards Lara. “Wolfram and Hart wants to buy Caritas?”
“Not Wolfram and Hart, Mister Wyndham-Pryce. I represent a private buyer, who wishes to remain anonymous. Quite on the level, I can assure you.”
“And I could tell you what to do with those assurances,” Cordelia pointed out, “...but I’m sure you already know. So why don’t you take your Ralph Laurened butt on out the door?”
“No need for rudeness, Miss Chase. Isn’t that right, Buffybot?”
“Absolutely! It never hurts to...”
Lara smiled a sly smile as Buffybot paused. Apparently, her new ‘friend’ was supposed to be one of the bad guys. Although she didn’t understand how just yet. She had no files on Wolfram and Hart, whatever that was. But she probably shouldn’t be defending her in front of everyone. No matter how good her manners were.
“I mean...maybe you should go, now?”
Lara bowed gracefully. “Of course. You have business, and mine’s just about finished for the day. It was a pleasure meeting you all.”
Walking past Buffybot, Lara paused as she passed the bar, pulling one more sheet of paper out of her folder. She handed it to Lorne.
“One last incentive,” she said smoothly, “...from my client’s personal collection. He thought it might...sweeten the pot, as it were.”
“Fat chance,” he replied, snatching the sheet from Lara and glancing at it. “When I say no, I mean...”
He stopped, his red eyes nearly bugging out of his head.
“Homina homina homina...”
“You have my contact information,” Lara said, grinning, “...I may stop by tomorrow evening to see where you are in your ruminations. Nice doing business with you, Krevlornswath of the Deathwalk clan.”
“Lorne would NEVER do business with you creeps,” Fred said defiantly as Lara approached her on the way out. She looked amused at the challenge, giving Fred a once-over.
“You never can tell, Miss Burkle. How are you feeling, by the way?”
“I...what? I-I’m fine...thanks?”
“Awright, that’s enough.” Gunn stepped in between Fred and Lara, scowling. “Think you’ve overstayed your welcome, Marcia Clark.”
“Of course, Mister Gunn. Take care.”
Lara stepped away and walked calmly up the stairs, turning after the first few steps and looking back at Gunn.
“You know, I always thought OJ was innocent, myself,” she said honestly. “After all, if he were guilty...wouldn’t he have called us?”
With a wave, the lawyer turned and disappeared up the stairs. Buffybot watched her go, putting some finishing touches on her new file, before reopening the one she had just begun on Lorne. Who, apparently, was a good guy. Despite being a demon.
This LA sure was a strange city.
“What’s this about buying Caritas?” Angel asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the paper Lorne held in his hand. “And what’s that?”
“Nothing,” Lorne said quickly, folding the paper up deftly and stuffing in into the breast of his kimono, “...nothing at all. A trifle. As if! What, me sell? Never!”
Angel frowned. “Lorne...”
“And who is this little lovely?” Lorne said, changing the subject and stepping forward to get a proper look at Buffybot, “...packs quite a shove, I can tell you that much.”
“I’m VERY sorry about that, sir,” Buffybot offered contritely, “...I didn’t know you were going to be a demon.”
“We were going to tell her in the car,” Wesley noted, “...until SOMEONE got carried away with questions about the mathematical probabilities of time-travel.”
Fred squirmed with sudden glee. “Didja see how fast she solved the equations??”
Wesley just glared, and the little Texan calmed down. “It might not have been the right time.”
Bypassing that particular conversation, Lorne turned his attention back to Buffybot. “Call me Lorne, sweetie. And forget about it. Oh, and sorry about the ‘bimbo’ comment...I haven’t exactly been myself the last few weeks. Just call me Grumplestiltskin.”
Buffybot frowned. “I thought you wanted me to call you Lorne?”
The green-skinned demon smiled fondly. “Wow...you remind me so much of a girl who passed by this way about a year back. Sweet kid, looking for her boyfriend. What was her name..?”
“Buffybot, this is Lorne...he’s the Host here at Caritas.” Wesley said, making introductions proper, “...Lorne, this is Buffybot.”
Lorne nodded. “Yeah, I caught the moniker earlier. Now, either her parents owe her a HUGE apology, or...”
“She’s a robot.” Fred confirmed Lorne’s guess with an excited grin. Gunn moved in quickly beside her.
“A robot that looks exactly like Angel’s ex, too. Slays vamps, demons, you name it.”
“And according to her?” Cordy added, “...alive. Then, dead. Now alive again.”
Lorne’s eyes widened yet again. “Well, cover me with whipped cream and call me a hot-fudge sundae!” he exclaimed, quickly leaning in to Buffybot and adding, “...not literally, by the way. Unless you really wanted to, we could go in the back...”
“We want you to read her,” Angel said a little too loudly, looking uncomfortable. “Just, you know...to make sure.”
Now Buffybot was getting confused again. “Make sure of what?”
“Oh, it’s okay,” Fred assured her, “...Lorne here can get a glimpse of people’s destinies when he hears them sing. He’ll be able to tell us, y’know...what you are, sorta. I mean, as far as being alive and everything.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Buffybot said, “...don’t you believe me?”
Noting the plaintive tone in her voice, Wesley approached Botty with a calming voice. “It’s nothing personal, I promise. It’s just...”
“Your story sounds crazy.” Cordelia summarized, earning a mild scowl from Wesley. “We just want to get on the same, crazy page as you. Okay?”
Running all this through her logic processors, Buffybot slowly came to the conclusion that it was probably best to go along. It sounded harmless enough.
“Okay,” she agreed, adopting a cheery posture, “...what do I have to do?”
“Just pick a tune and belt it out, sugarcircuits,” Lorne explained colourfully. “Me and my magic mojo will do the rest.”
Buffybot made a crooked face. “More singing...”
Behind Lorne, Angel pulled up a barstool and sat, oddly expectant . He flexed and unflexed his fingers tensely.
“You all right, man?” Gunn asked, sidling up beside him. Angel glanced at him briefly, then back at Buffybot.
“What? No, I’m fine. It’s just...”
He smiled bashfully. “I’ve never actually heard Buffy sing before,” he admitted. Gunn just grinned back at him.
“Sorry I don’t have any accompanying music for you, but my stereo system is suffering from a bad case of bullets.”
Lorne nodded towards the still-smashed equipment on his stage. It matched the general decor of the rest of the club, destroyed weeks earlier in an unprecedented attack.
“That’s all right,” Buffybot replied, “...I can make do.”
Before anyone could ask, music started to fill the air, pumped out via Buffybot’s external speakers as she got ready to sing the song she had chosen. The dancing, while not necessary for Lorne’s reading, just struck her as fun. She doffed her hat and coat and launched right into her number.
The loud guitar riffs and heavy drums took more than one listener by surprise.
“Listen up here, I’ll make it quite clear!
I’m gonna put some boogie in your ear...”
Listening intently, Lorne took a moment to admire the show being put on. “Now that’s what I call a karaoke machine.”

Driving away from Caritas towards her condo, Lara Markham pressed one on her speed-dial, reaching an automated message system.
“Quinn? Lara. I know you’re probably still incommunicado, but when you get back, call me.”
Taking a corner at high speed, Lara smiled into the rear-view mirror. “You’re never going to BELIEVE who I just ran into at Caritas.”

The music died slowly off, and Buffybot put the finishing touches on her impromptu dance number, and waited. It took a few moments for a coherent response.
“Wow,” Angel finally managed, staring, “...that was...that was...”
“Motorhead,” Fred pointed out.
“...not what I would have expected,” Angel finished. Most everyone seemed to agree on that point. “Well, well, well...”
Lorne stood up, smiling widely and giving Buffybot a tiny round of applause. A huge smile was his reward. “That was one heck of a performance, my little clockwork cutie. I see you’re a fan of the classics.”
Buffybot nodded eagerly. “It’s good fight music! I play it sometimes on my internal speakers when I’m slaying.”
“Well, let me tell ya, Lemmy’s got nothing on you, gorgeous.”
Basking for just a moment in the compliment, Buffybot turned a little more serious. “I was a good soldier,” she said. Lorne put a hand on her shoulder.
“Aw, I know you were, sweet potato. And I wish I could say I saw some R&R coming up for you. But I’m afraid you won’t be packing away the fight music anytime soon, from what I saw.”
“What are you saying, then?” Wesley asked, moving closer, “...is she..?”
“Alive? Oh, heck yeah!” Lorne looked across the staring faces one by one. “She’s as alive as you or me, no question. But there’s more than that.”
“More?” Cordelia looked nervous at that word. “What kind of more? Good more?”
“Depends on your point of view, really.” Lorne answered cryptically, before moving his gaze squarely onto Angel. “If I’m reading her right? And I am...this girl’s a champion.”
A few jaws redropped. Gunn just leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Told y’all she was cool.”
“A champion?” Fred asked, amazed. “Like Angel?”
Angel half fell off his stool. “Whoa! Let’s not...not EXACTLY like me...right?”
“Well, no,” Lorne admitted, hand still on an awfully perplexed Buffybot’s shoulder, “...every champion of the Powers that Be is unique. Has their own place, their own mission.”
“What’s MY place?” Buffybot asked, suddenly excited. “I know my mission is to fight evil and help people of course, but...”
“Hold up, cinnamon buns o’steel. Not everything was that clear...this WAS my first time reading a machine after all. Unless you count that awful sinking feeling I get every time I hear the Windows startup music...”
Angel hopped to his feet and made his way over. “Lorne? What wasn’t clear? This is kind of important...”
“Easy, pushykins. Someone having ex-girlfriend issues, hmm?”
“What?” Angel shot a glance back at Lorne, noticing that he had been staring at Buffybot. “No! There are no issues here!”
Cordelia couldn’t hold back the derisive snort of laughter. “Right. Angel, you have more issues than a year of Entertainment Weekly.”
Trying to keep track of the conversation as best she could (it wasn’t always easy...Lorne’s penchant for ad-libbed nicknames made it awfully difficult for her to determine who he was talking to at times), Buffybot wondered what ‘issues’ people were referring to, and why Angel apparently had at least fifty-three of them. From what Lorne had said, it might have something to do with Buffy. That, and the way he kept on staring at her every chance he got.
“You’re a tall stack of complex, big fella,” Lorne noted, cutting off Angel’s glaring of Cordelia, “...but we’ll sort you out later. As for what’s not clear about my perky little electric Barbarella here, well, pardon my repetition but, it’s not exactly clear.”
“You’re just trying to sound mysterious now.”
Shrugging off Angels’ accusation, Lorne turned and looked back at Buffybot. “She’s alive, that much I’m sure of. There’s a soul in there...not like any I’ve ever read, but it’s real.”
Buffybot couldn’t help the huge smile that followed, though Lorne was more reserved. “I saw one heckuva roller-coaster destiny in there, kids. Hard to follow at times, and it raised a lot of questions. Problem is, I don’t think I’m the one to answer them.”
“What do you mean?” Wesley asked, beating the others to the question. Lorne didn’t move, just continued peering into Buffybots artificial eyes. Buffybot thought the stare rather odd...as if he were looking for something.
“What I mean is, according to what I read, she already HAS a connection to the Powers, and it ain’t me. Although I’m a little fuzzy on just what it is.”
Slowly, Buffybot detected everyone in the club staring intently at her, and she felt a distinct twinge of unease. Lorne must be referring to Doyle, she realized...that was the only possible connection to the Powers that Be, whatever they were, that she could postulate. Except Doyle had insisted that she not let anyone know about his occasional presence...an insistence that she could see now was potentially going to get her into trouble. She would have to talk to him about that as soon as she was alone.
“I...I’m not supposed to talk about that,” she finally said, being as truthful as she could while still keeping her promise to Doyle. She just hoped no one would press her too much about it. She didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from her new friends.
Grinning, Lorne turned back to Angel. “And you say I’M mysterious? We’ve got the original mystery machine right here, bubba.”
“A secret connection to the Powers,” Wesley mused out loud, folding his arms, “...curiouser and curiouser.” Beside him, Fred seemed to agree, at least with his curiosity.
“I don’t get it. Does this mean she’s supposed to work with us? If she’s a champion already...”
“She’s got to find her own path,” Lorne explained, “...at least, that’s the best I could make out. And it strikes me that you characters are as good a place for her to start looking as any. Who knows? Maybe you’ll make her your next boss.”
Angel let loose with a pained scowl at that thought. “Let’s not get TOO carried away here. We haven’t even talked about offering Buffy any sort of...”
Catching himself a second too late, Angel froze, squirming under the sudden glare of everyone around him.
“Buffybot,” he corrected himself, “...I mean Buffybot. Of course. Not...it’s just that she...I mean Buffybot...”
Buffybot herself stared back at Angel as he gave her the oddest looks and stammered a little incoherently. Perhaps public speaking was one of his issues?
The vampire let out long, loud breath. “Do you have a nickname or something..?” He asked at length. Buffybot smiled at that and nodded merrily.
“My friends used to call me Botty sometimes!”
There followed a moment of palpable silence, broken as it often was, by Cordelia. “Do you maybe have a less crappy nickname?”
Buffybot’s smile faded fast. “What do you mean?”
“I like it,” Fred chimed, “...it’s kinda pretty.”
Gunn seemed more skeptical. “I dunno...sounds too much like ‘body’, you ask me.”
Still staring, Angel squinted his eyes towards Buffybot. “Maybe if we could give you a wig...”
“...or ‘booty’,” Gunn continued, making a sour face, “...and that’s just dirty.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my nickname,” Buffybot said defensively. “Tara gave it to me and I like it!”
Cordelia just stared. “Who’s Tara?”
“Maybe at least give her a different cut,” Angel mused, imagining new ways to alter Buffybot’s appearance. The robot, however, only frowned at the suggestion.
“Do you not like my hair?”
“Ah, the epic banter of champions.”
Leaning up against the bar and pouring himself another tall drink, Lorne sighed, wondering exactly when his guests would leave him alone. He hadn’t been joking about ‘not being himself’ the last little while, and there was still some moping left to be done before Jerry Springer came on.

Hours later, the team had left Caritas, much to Lorne’s delight, and gone their separate ways. Only Wesley lagged behind at the hotel, doing some extra filing of ancient texts while Fred continued grilling Buffybot on her internal workings, and Angel brooded over some tax forms. It was tricky, but Wesley managed to sneak the occasional doting glance in Fred’s direction without anyone noticing. He had to admit it was charming how excited she was at the robots presence. It was the first time she’d really gotten involved in something other than Angel since she’d arrived. Perhaps Buffybots’ presence would be a good thing all around.
On returning to his text, however, Wesley glanced towards Angel and noted that he was studiously paying no attention to the forms in his lap. Wesley followed Angels stare, noticing with interest it led right to the spot he himself had been fixated upon a second ago. He guessed, however, that it wasn’t Fred that was catching the vampires eye.
“Deciding on a wig?”
Angel shook out of his stupor and looked at Wes, a little startled. Wesley gave him a sympathetic smile.
“It’s difficult for you, isn’t it?”
“It’s just...”
Angel let out a quiet sigh, letting his hands slump onto his lap of forms. “I spend most of my time trying NOT to think about Buffy, and now...here she is, walking around the hotel. And you may not have noticed, but I’m not all that good with this kind of thing.”
“It is a tricky situation,” Wesley admitted, “...boy meets girl, boy loses girl, girl dies and has identical robot duplicate constructed...”
“It’s such a cliche, I know,” Angel agreed. He grabbed the forms out of his lap and stood up, giving his head a shake to clear the cobwebs.
“Lock up when you leave, okay? I’m gonna head downstairs, punch my bag a little.”
Wesley adjusted his glasses as Angel strode towards the basement access. “I could make a joke, but won’t.”
“Appreciate it.” Angel paused at the corner, turning back to face the lobby. “Goodnight Fred...don’t wait up.”
Draped lazily over the circular cushioned bench in the lobby’s center, Fred seemed quite flustered to discover that someone else was still in the room besides herself and Buffybot. She turned to Angel with a start.
“Oh...all right! Bye Angel, nighty-night!”
“Goodnight Angel!” Buffybot seconded Fred’s wave, seated beside her. “I hope we get a case soon!”
“Yeah,” Angel replied with waning faux-cheer, “...right back atcha.”
Vanishing quickly underneath the Hotel, Angel was soon forgotten by Fred, who returned to Buffybot with an eager smile. “Tell me again about your ‘decision collider’! How does it work? Some sorta random fractal generation? Or no, it would have to be more complex than THAT. Right?”
Fred propped her head up on her hands and curled her knees under her chin, happily awaiting further technical exposition from Buffybot. Botty herself was only too happy to explain everything Fred wanted to know (except for one or two things), although a niggling seed of disquiet was forming at the base of her emotional generators. She had overheard Angels comments a few moments ago, and was having trouble figuring them out. It seemed that, somehow, her looking like Buffy was a problem for him. She sure didn’t want to cause trouble!
At length (approximately .004 seconds), Buffybot decided it could wait until morning. Angel would probably feel MUCH better about everything after a good sleep! Assuming, of course, he slept during the night. He is a vampire, after all.
She’d find out soon enough, Buffybot told herself, and promptly launched into a highly detailed explanation of the inner workings of her decision collider, quite happy at having actually found someone who cared about such things.

Fred had finally fallen asleep at two in the morning, zonking out right there in the lobby. As gently as she could manage, Buffybot had carried her up to her room in the hotel and put her to bed, before heading off to the room she had taken as her own the previous night. It wasn’t much, but then, she didn’t need much. She didn’t need to sleep (although her power levels were reading slightly lower than she would have liked, but she supposed she just needed some recharging time after the excitement of the last few days), and there didn’t seem to be any pressing evil to fight. For a moment she contemplated the idea of making an attempt at patrol, but opted against it. Cordelia had likely been right when she suggested a patrol in a city this size would be largely fruitless.
Instead, she cast a quick thought in a different direction, deciding a little more company would be a nice way to cap off the night. Doyle seemed to agree.
“There’s my girl!” He said with a large smile, “...how’re things? Hopefully better than the sorry state of this fleabag of a room you’re holed up in?”
Buffybot took another look at the room. Aside from some small piles of debris, there was a mattress without a frame, a small side table, and a bathroom. The lights didn’t seem to be working, either. “It’s not THAT bad...I can fix it up easy! It’ll be fun.”
“Good to see you haven’t lost the bright side ‘o life. So what’s new?”
“I sang karaoke for a magic green demon? And he said I was a champion and had a soul.”
Doyle nodded. “Wise fella. So you’re fitting in then? Second chance well under way, full steam ahead?”
“I suppose...” Buffybot sounded only half convinced. “Angel still seems awfully uncomfortable around me. And the green demon...his name is Lorne, and he’s very nice...knows about you, I think. He said I had a connection to the ‘Powers that Be’.”
That made Doyle concerned. “Uh oh. That could be trouble. He didn’t get any specifics, did he?”
“No...but he did tell everyone else what he knew, and I had to say something. I told them I wasn’t allowed to talk about it.”
“Good girl.” Doyle said it with a note of relief, which seemed odd to Buffybot. Then, most things since she had returned to Earth had done so. “So all’s well.”
“I don’t like lying,” Buffybot said bluntly, “...and there’s so much I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’re here, or why you don’t want your friends to know about you. I don’t understand why I came back, or who brought me back, or why I didn’t...”
Buffybot stopped herself, on the official excuse that it would be impolite to barrage poor Doyle with so many questions at once. It was much better than the real reason.
“Why you didn’t what?” Doyle asked, suddenly aware that there was something Buffybot wanted to know that she really, really didn’t want to ask. The other questions he could answer...sort of, at least...but what was it she was too scared to even ask?
“I can’t help you if you won’t trust me, doll,” he finally said, and she gave him a timid look in reply. “Just ask. It’ll be okay.”
Buffybot gave Doyle a wan smile. “It’s not important right now.” She didn’t think that answer would be wholly satisfactory, and from Doyle’s face she deduced it was not. But at least, she surmised, it wasn’t lying. “Really! I should probably enter power-down mode right now anyway...I’m experiencing a slight drop-off in power levels, and I’d like to be at peak performance in case I’m needed to fight evil again soon!”
Squinting at the peppy robot, Doyle admitted defeat. “Nice deflection. All right, you’re off the hook for tonight. But don’t you think I won’t be prodding some more next time I see ya. Take care’a yourself.”
“You too, Mister Doyle. I’ll be all right. You just watch!”
Botty gave Doyle one last smile as he faded from view. She likely WOULD have to have a talk with him soon, about everything. Soon.
In the meantime, Buffybot lay down on the mattress and shut down her active systems, powering down for recharging. She set a command to should reactivate once at peak power levels. She also switched her voice-activation circuitry on, just in case she was needed before recharging was complete (although she projected that the process wouldn’t take very long). She didn’t need full power to fight evil, no sir! Buffybot shut down and went immobile in the dark room, quite unaware as she did so how much her last statement was soon to be put to the test.

“Knock knock...”
Buffybot snapped back to active status at the sound of Cordelia’s voice, turning to see her poking her head in the door. She smiled at the opportunity.
“Who’s there?”
Cordelia stared. “It’s me...Cordelia. What, have you got a virus or something?”
“I don’t think so,” Buffybot replied, reflexively doing a virus scan that happily came back negative. Perhaps they didn’t know about knock-knock jokes in Los Angeles, Buffybot theorized. Well, she would just have to...
Botty paused, rechecking her internal chronometer. “Is it really 1 pm?”
“Uh huh,” Cordy said, nodding as she fully entered the room. Buffybot sprang to her feet. “Guess even robots can be programmed to sleep in. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much.”
But worry Buffybot did, as her calculations predicted full recharge several hours ago. She checked her power levels, and was more than a little distressed to note they were, in fact, slightly LOWER than when she had shut down the previous night. Had she done something wrong? This was a new body after all. Although she was at a loss to explain how she could have messed up on something as basic as recharging. It should have happened automatically.
“You okay?” Cordelia looked concerned, and Buffybot snapped to. She decided to keep her power woes to herself for now. She wasn’t really supposed to talk about her power source, she remembered. It was one of the things Vincent, her new body’s creator, had stressed during his virtual tour days earlier. She had already had to skirt around the issue several times in her conversations with Fred, which bothered her a little...especially now, since Fred might be the only one of them who would be able to help.
“Everything’s super duper!” Buffybot told Cordelia with a large smile, and the brunette was visibly relieved.
“Good,” she replied, “...because Angel? Seems to be experiencing the vampire’s ‘time of the month’. Been in a mood ever since I got here this morning.”
“Oh dear. I hope he’s all right!”
Cordelia waved her hand dismissively. “Angel’s not happy unless he’s miserable. It’s one of those little quirks that make him ‘special,’. Coming?”
“Sure thing! I’m just going to put on one of the nice outfits you helped me buy yesterday!”
“Great....uh, you’re not going to wear the hat, are you?”
Buffybot smiled. “Oh no,” she answered smartly, “...I’m saving that for when I’m detecting!”
Leaving the robot to change, Cordelia smiled politely and closed the door, heading down the hall to the stairs. She hoped Angel would be in a better mood soon, wondering if maybe he was having more trouble adjusting to the Buffybot than she’d thought.
All they needed was a case to work on, she decided. Something to focus on. Which would hopefully come soon...because honestly? Cordelia was starting to feel more than a little crabby herself. She decided that Angel’s moods must be contagious.

“Can anyone file around here? Anyone??”
A cabinet drawer slammed loudly shut, resounding sharply in the cavernous lobby of the Hyperion. Angel turned, haughtily waving the offending file in his hands.
“It’s the alphabet, people, do we need a refresher course?”
“Take it easy, Angel,” Wesley offered, having arrived back at the hotel a few hours ago to find Angel in a much fouler mood than he’d left him in. Apparently, ‘punching his bag’ had done little to smooth out the wrinkles in today’s load of emotional laundry.
“We’re supposed to be running a business here, Wesley!” Angel slapped the file down on the countertop, sending several odd papers wheeling off in their own directions. Gunn snatched his coffee mug up and away just in time.
“Gotta have some business to run, first,” he pointed out, “...else we’ll be doin’ our filing at the unemployment office.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my filing,” Cordelia shouted from the stairs, fixing Angel with a withering glare. “I have a system.”
“Systems...”
Fred muttered the word out loud, repeating it with a concerned look as she perched herself on a chair. “Systems, organizing principles. Order, order. Just an illusion though, second law of thermodynamics proves that, chaos always wins in the end, so why try? Why try...”
Wesley, Gunn and Cordelia gave Fred a blank stare, though Angel seemed quite preoccupied with storming dramatically towards the coffee machine.
“Is it me,” Gunn asked slowly, “...or is Fred bein’ a little more...Fred, than usual today?”
“Fred?” Wesley peered a little closer at the squirrely girl, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet to some unheard rhythm. “Are you all right?”
“All right?” Fred asked the question back almost accusingly. “All right, all wrong...same number of molecules either way, meaningless. Electrical spin, vibrations the same...plow down to quantum, subatomic levels, everything is all right, all wrong, neither right nor wrong all at the same time! Everything and nothing together, that’s us, every one. What’s all right? Does that even mean anything at all? Not to a cluster of electrons, you better believe that!”
Fred shifted nervously after her tirade, and Wesley backed up, eyes wide. Cordelia raised an eyebrow.
“I think that might be a no.”
“Hello everyone!”
Heads turned (none faster than Angel’s) as Buffybot walked primly down the main staircase, looking quite smashing indeed in a Cordy-selected ensemble...tight pants, tights shirt, with more than a smidgen of mechanical midriff exposed in between. Buffybot rather approved. One was always supposed to look hot while slaying, or so Dawn had always maintained.
Almost knocking Cordelia down, Angel burst past her to meet Buffybot at the bottom of the stairs, surprising the little robot with his intensity.
“Buffy!” He shouted as he met her on the stairs, a wide smile on his face (the first such smile she had noticed Angel sporting thus far, Buffybot noted). With both hands, he reached forward and grabbed her solidly by the arms, staring at her. “I was wondering when you were coming down.”
“Why thank you Angel!” Buffybot replied cheerily, not terribly shocked at being called ‘Buffy’ herself...it was the name she had gone by for most of her life thus far, after all. Not everyone in the room shared her attitude on the subject. “I was just recharging.”
“Yes, Angel,” Wesley said loudly towards Angel’s back, “...Buffy-BOT needed to recharge her robotic power cells. Being a robot as she is.”
Angel continued staring at Buffybot. “Yeah, whatever. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Leading Buffybot down into the lobby, Angel seemed quite unwilling to take his eyes off of her. Buffybot was quite flattered, and glad that Angel seemed to be over the bad mood Cordelia had spoken of. He seemed to her to be more happy and friendly than she had yet seen him.
“Thank you very much! But I don’t really need coffee. Do you have any biscotti?”
Angel seemed surprised. “You never used to like biscotti...”
That seemed an odd thing for Angel to say, Buffybot noted, since they’d only known one another for a couple of days. Still, this WAS the first time she’d mentioned it. Maybe...
“You’re not Buffy.”
Angel froze by the coffee maker, glaring accusingly at Buffybot, who was starting to get confused. Or rather, she was pretty sure Angel was.
“No...I’m Buffybot!” she corrected, hoping her good cheer would rub off on Angel. It didn’t seem to. “Robot,” Fred muttered, eyes darting around the room, “...root form Rabu. Means ‘slave’.”
“What, were you trying to trick me? Is that it?”
“I was a slave...does that make me a robot, too? Human body’s just an organic mechanical construct if you look objectively, an imperfect one at that. Not even a GOOD robot, then...”
Buffybot’s eyes darted between Fred’s rambling and Angel’s accusing glare nervously, trying to assess the situation. Her logic processors were having a tricky time of it, however. “I wasn’t trying to trick anyone Angel, really! And Fred, you’re a human according to my scans, and not a robot at all. Honest injun!”
A moment of silence passed before Gunn raised an eyebrow. “What the hell’s biscotti?”
Before Buffybot could reply, Wesley stepped forward with a nervous look, even as Angel turned his back on those present to brood nearer the office. “Something odd’s going on here...”
“Pffft,” Cordelia started with disdain, “...Angel’s being cranky and Fred’s being crazy. Sounds like business as usual.”
“Seriously, ‘biscotti’. That some kinda robot food, or just white people food?”
“There IS something going on,” Wesley murmured, ignoring Gunn’s question and staring intently at nothing in particular, “...I can sense it.”
Curious, Buffybot directed a wide area scan throughout the lobby. “I’m not registering anything anomalous in the vicinity,” she reported quickly, “...is there anything in particular I should be scanning for?”
Studying Buffybot, Cordelia crossed her arms and smiled archly. “Well, well. Someone’s a little teacher’s robot, isn’t she?”
“I’m just trying to help,” Buffybot replied, startled by what her semantic processors were assuring her was a slight, “...and biscotti is a hard crunchy cookie they sell in coffee shops.”
Gunn smiled briefly at the explanation, then frowned at his colleagues. “Now how come only the robot would tell me that? What, y’all like keeping secrets from me? I’m not intruding on your private little white club, am I?”
“Oh sure,” Cordelia snapped, “...play the race card. Very original, Spike Lee.”
Wesley’s eyes darted about the room. “Secrets, yes...someone’s keeping secrets, all right. Someone always is...”
“Secrets,” Fred mumbled, “...information without energy. Sarfatti’s interpretation of Bell’s theorem says information is nonlocal, everywhere in spacetime, no energy needed, so secrets are a quantum impossibility. Just not looking hard enough, imperfect squishy organic robot perception the problem, oh yes, that’s the problem right there you bet...”
“Do I look like Spike Lee to you?” Gunn rose swiftly from his seat, confrontation in his eyes. “Or do we all just look alike? That it, cheerleader?”
“You could see it all!” Fred suddenly yelled, glaring at Buffybot with wide and fervent eyes, “...you’re the next step! Mechanical, electrical life, self sufficient, perfectly aware. Next step in evolution even...my God, we must be like cavemen to you...”
“Oh, I wish!” Cordelia yelled back at Gunn defiantly, “...then I could be looking at Will Smith right now instead of you!”
“You’re not like a caveman to me, Fred,” Buffybot tried to say, rapidly losing any grasp of the conversational patterns around her (and worriedly noticing a high rate of power loss continuing to drain her), “...not even a little bit!”
“Are you calling her a liar?”
Wesley suddenly appeared beside Buffybot, grabbing her by the right arm. “And what might YOU have to hide, hmm? Your sudden appearance here raises an awful lot questions, doesn’t it?”
“Hey!”
Moving in from behind her, Angel stepped up beside Buffybot and knocked Wesley’s arm away swiftly, warning him away before giving Buffybot a reassuring look. She smiled back, when he turned back to Wes sternly.
“Don’t talk to Buffy like that,” he ordered. And Buffybot’s brief smile faded.
“Hello?”
Buffybot turned, a second before everyone else, to see a stranger walking into the main lobby of the hotel. He was an average height and portly, wearing a neat but unimpressive gray suit. A quick scan told her that he was human (although she remained on alert, as her scanners had been fooled before), his body language registering as anxious. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.
“Hi,” the stranger said, clearing his throat. No one else said a word, only glared in is direction in varying degrees of surprise, mistrust and annoyance. Buffybot thought that was a strange way to run a business. Perhaps what they needed was a jaunty bell over the door, like Giles had.
Halting at the doors, the stranger grew agitated under the stares. “I’m sorry...is this..? I mean, are you the, um, detectives? Maybe I’m in the wrong place...”
Still no reply, although Buffybot was registering a lot of highly increased respiratory activity in the room. Her logic processors couldn’t provide her with an accurate idea as to whether this was the way Angel treated ALL his prospective clients, like a test or something. It didn’t matter, because by this time her politeness redundancies were kicking in...and the man SEEMED nice enough, after all.
“Welcome to Angel Investigations,” she declared, stepping forward with a bright smile, “...how may we be of service to you today?”
A relieved smile sprang up on the stranger’s face, while Cordelia looked witheringly at Buffybot. “Time out...since when do YOU work here?”
Buffybot looked disappointed, but carried on. “I’m...volunteering,” she said, pleased with her improvisation. It was true enough, she realized.
“What did you say your name was?”
Wesley asked with just a hint of accusation, stepping forward past the others to meet the man at the door. The stranger didn’t seem to notice Wes’ tone.
“I’m Andy. Simms, Andy Simms. I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment, I-I’ve never been to a place like...this...before. Should I have made an appointment?”
Wes waited a moment, sizing the man up, when his face suddenly brightened. “Not at all, Mister Simms. We take walk-in cases all the time. Step on in, please, and do tell us what seems to be the trouble.”
Ushering Mister Simms in grandly, Wes led their newest client in past the others, offering him a seat in the outer office. Cordelia followed closely, though Gunn seemed to be keeping his distance, and Fred had darted away to hide as best she could behind the coffee machine. Buffybot followed eagerly, excited at the prospect of helping out on a new case. Angel was right by her side.
“What can we do for you, Mister Simms?” Angel asked. Buffybot was glad that things seemed to be moving along more properly now.
“I’m not sure, exactly...my, uh, problem is, well, pretty bizarre. But you’ve got to believe me!”
Cordy sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Why does everyone have to start off that way? ‘You won’t believe this’, ‘I swear I’m not making this up’...We believe you already, so just spill it!”
Boy, Buffybot thought, Cordelia sure does like getting down to business! Although she hoped Mister Simms didn’t find her rude. Botty was certain she was just anxious to thwart evil.
“Right. You see, I run a small shipping business in the City. We started off just doing machine parts and supplies, but lately we’ve branched out. Statues, artifacts, that sort of thing. Well, a couple of days ago we get a shipment in to our downtown storehouse. Supposedly just some standard grade pottery and relics for a few of the lower echelon museums in the area.”
“Supposedly?”
Simms nodded at Angel. “When we tried to unload the shipment, there was...there was something else inside. Something alive.”
“Are you sure?” Cordelia immediately asked, “...’cause sometimes it’s hard to tell. Take Angel here for example...”
“What sort of something?” Angel asked, ignoring Cordy’s digression.
“I’d never seen anything like it,” Simms explained, nervous. “They were huge...one minute they were just, poof, there. Sort of a luminous gray, shaped like a person, but...no face. None at all.”
Wesley nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. You say they seemed to appear out of thin air.”
Simms nodded. “It was like they flowed right out of the crate when we opened it...like those little foam dinosaurs that expand when you get’em wet.”
“I had a triceratops I kept in my jewelry box,” Fred muttered, hunched now beside the file cabinet, “...I named him Aristotle.”
“So there’s some demon nasties in a warehouse,” Gunn summarized, agitated, “...what are we still doin’ here?”
Buffybot nodded enthusiastically. “Right! Let’s go kick some demon booty!”
“I’d like to know what we’re dealing with first if it’s all the same.” Wesley, remaining almost eerily calm now, motioned for Gunn and Botty to calm down, then returned his attention to Mister Simms. “Can you tell us exactly what was inside the crate, Mister Simms? Besides your faceless entities, of course.”
“I-I brought the manifest,” Simms offered, pulling a few stapled sheets of forms out of his coat pocket and handing them to Wesley. “I hope it’ll be a help. I’ll pay whatever you feel is fair...these things are ruining my business. Half my workers have already run off!”
“Call them back,” Angel announced with confidence, “...this is nothing Buffy and I can’t handle.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it, Mister Simms.” Wesley quietly skimmed the pages of the manifest, outlining the shipment received. “If you could just leave your contact information with Ms.Chase, we’ll get to work immediately.”
“Right...I’m the girl, so of COURSE I’m the secretary. Not like I get the visions or anything...I’d like to see some of the menfolk around here deal with the visions for a while, see how THEY handle it.”
Mister Simms just stared nervously at Cordelia, who at length let out a deep, annoyed sigh.
“Come on, stubby, let’s get you filed. And you’d better have good credit.”

A few minutes of paperwork and reassuring later, Mister Simms made his exit and left the crew of Angel Investigations (plus Buffybot) alone in the Hyperion Hotel. Buffybot offered a tentative smile, despite continued worrying about her mysterious power loss.
“So...we have a case now?”
Gunn paced anxiously. “Got somethin’ to hit, that’s all I care about. Let’s get moving already!”
“Hold up,” Angel said, “...Wes was right. We should research whatever’s in that warehouse before Buffy and I go in there.”
Botty smiled politely. “It’s ‘Buffybot’, actually, Angel.”
He smiled right back. “Sure...anything you say, Buffy.”
“Well, screw that,” Cordelia said decisively, planting herself on a chair, “...I’ve done my menial secretarial duties, and I still have vision hangover from the other day. You guys can research to your hearts content. Me? I’m on break.”
“Hearts content,” Fred mumbled, fidgeting with her fingers, “...heartbreak, heart attack, heart and soul, heart to heart. Just a lump of tissue soaked in blood, always pumping, sucking, til it stops and then you’re dead.”
Wesley snapped his fingers. “Of course!”
Sparing him the briefest glance, Fred mused sadly. “How could the poor thing EVER be content?”
“Heart,” Wesley continued, pacing around the lobby counter, “...I should have seen it before. It’s so obvious!”
Buffybot listened eagerly, happy that Wesley had made some sort of discovery. She stepped closer, and Angel stepped right with her.
“What are you buggin’ about, English?”
Wesley spun towards Gunn, his eyes frantic. “Heart! Wolfram and Hart! They MUST be the ones behind this...it’s all right there!”
“Behind what?” Cordelia scowled from her seat. “Museum guy and his lame monster warehouse?”
Wesley’s eyes went wide. “Behind EVERYTHING! They’re always sneaking about, prying, planning...they’re probably watching us right now...”
Pausing, Wesley hunched over and started eyeing the entire room with scrutiny. Cordelia snorted out a laugh, Fred muttered under a table, and Gunn paced like a caged tiger. Buffybot examined all of their actions in her Behavioural Analyzer, discovering that even with precious little to compare with, they all seemed to be acting most unusually.
Just as she came to that conclusion, Angel put his arm around her shoulders, and Buffybot wondered what Mister Doyle would think about all of this.
“And he arrives, right on cue.”
Doyle shimmered into Buffybot’s view just as she finished thinking about him...apparently that really was all it took to ‘summon’ him, as it were. She realized that there was a great deal she didn’t yet know about Doyle, and her new relationship with him. But that puzzle could be worked out later...just now she had more pressing relationships to sort out.
Raising an eyebrow, Doyle appraised Angel’s draped arm as it hung over Buffybot’s shoulders. “Hey, looks like the man’s warming up to ya! Didn’t I say you’d charm him?”
Doyle gave Botty a thumbs up, which she acknowledged with a faint smile. She couldn’t exactly talk to him right now, with everyone around. She’d have to be sneaky about it.
“Why don’t we start researching our new case now, Angel? I’m super at researching!”
Deftly extricating herself from the vampire’s loose hold, Buffybot darted across the lobby to one of Wesley’s piles of texts, flashing Doyle a wink as she went.
“Ah! Workin’ a case already, I see. Whatta we got? Ghouls? Poltergeist, maybe a zombie or three?”
Snatching up a hefty volume, Buffybot put on a cheery face. “We have to hurry and help Mister Simms with the strange faceless creatures haunting his warehouse! Don’t we everyone?”
Buffybot made another overt wink towards Doyle, who chuckled. “Gotcha. No-face zombie case. Always a classic. Should be no trouble for you and the crew...few new faces around here, aren’t there?”
Doyle turned, getting his first real look at the current Angel Investigations team. Angel, who was sticking oddly close to Buffybot, he knew, and Cordelia...who was flipping through a magazine with a look of utter snark on her otherwise lovely face. The others...
“Gunn, right?” Doyle correctly guessed, pointing towards the young man as he testily planted himself down for what looked like an unwelcome bit of research. “I remember him from that Sunnydale caper...seems like a solid fella.”
“So what the hell are we looking for, anyway?” Gunn shouted, already slamming shut the book he had picked up, “...all I want to know is how to kill these things!”
Doyle stepped back. “Eager, too, isn’t he?”
“Can’t kill the monsters,”
Turning, Doyle spotted the new speaker, a slender girl tucked away and rocking herself slowly underneath a table in the office. She seemed to be trembling.
“Can’t kill the Monsters, “ she repeated urgently, “...the monsters kill you. That’s what they do, that’s why they’re monsters! Simple really....simple, simple. 1,2,3, they all come after me...”
“Aw, that’s nice,” Doyle said with a warm smile, “...Angel’s runnin’ a shelter now, too? Man, he’s really grown!”
“That’s Fred!” Buffybot corrected, drawing sudden attention. This whole not-talking-to-the-ghost bit was going to take her some time to adjust to. She quietly set about setting up a new program to regulate that, even as her embarrassment generators started kicking in under the curious stares she was getting.
“Well, it is...”
Wesley gave Buffybot a stern look that she couldn’t quite interpret, then suddenly broke off and stalked towards the office. “None of you are paying any attention,” he said decisively, “...research is pointless!”
“Huh,” Doyle quipped, “...not exactly all on the same page, are ya?”
“Hear, hear!” Cordelia piped up momentarily, before returning to her studious ignoring of the affairs about her.
“But...what do you mean, Wesley?” Buffybot looked earnestly into the office, glancing briefly at Doyle before continuing. “You were a Watcher! You know research is always a must before proper slaying!”
Doyle looked back at Wesley. “Watcher, eh? Could’a used one of them back in the day. Not that I wasn’t a handy repository of knowledge myself, you understand...”
“Buffy’s right, Wesley,” Angel concurred, “...we can’t go in blind.”
Doyle turned sharply. “Did he just call you ‘Buffy’?”
Buffybot gave a barely perceptible nod before Wesley spun towards Angel.
“Aren’t any of you listening?” he shouted, looking almost frantic, “...it’s Wolfram and Hart! They’re behind ALL of this! This ‘Simms’ fellow is clearly just a decoy of some sort! And you all want to blunder into their trap like rank amateurs!”
“Decoy, schmecoy,” Cordelia fired back straightaway, “...he’s got money. No one’s paying us to obsess over Wolfram and Heartless right now, so screw them.”
“How can you be so blind about this??”
Cordy was about to fire a nasty retort back Wesley’s way when a sudden flying tackle from Gunn took the Watcher off his feet and crashing to the ground. Fred yelled fearfully, and Buffybot and Angel both moved immediately to separate the two.
“Amateur??” Gunn shouted angrily, catching Wesley with a solid hit to the jaw, “...who the Hell you callin’ ‘amateur’?”
“Gunn, stop!” Buffybot shouted, moving as fast as she could to end the sudden melee, but Angel beat her there. She noticed she wasn’t moving at anything like her top speed...power levels were off another 6%, just in the last few minutes. As Angel pulled Gunn off of Wesley, Buffybot realized grimly she was barely at half-capacity now. And still dropping and dropping all the time.
“Call me ‘amateur’ again, you’ll be swallowin’ teeth! You got that??”
Angel thrust Gunn away from the others and held him tight around the shoulders. “Calm down! What the Hell’s the matter with you two?”
“My question exactly,” Doyle echoed gravely, “...I mean, I know they’re bein’ deprived of my soothing, fatherly influence and all, but this is ridiculous! I take it they’re not always like this?”
Glancing over, Buffybot gave Doyle a short but definite nod. Gunn, meanwhile, forced himself out of Angel’s grip with a hard shove.
“Hell with YOU,” he spat, hands clenching into fists. He glared around the room, even as Buffybot helped Wesley to his feet.
“You all wanna sit and talk, that’s fine. Me? I’m off to kill me somethin’ nasty. Maybe a vamp or two.”
The last comment was directed with a fierce glare towards Angel, just before Gunn turned and stormed out the front doors. They slammed behind him with an ominous echo throughout the lobby.
“Drama queen.” Cordy huffed, folding her arms petulantly. “I hope the rest of you are going to be a LITTLE more professional, or I’ll NEVER get paid.”
Insensitive though it might have been, Buffybot filed that comment away for another time. “Are you all right, Wesley?”
Wesley straightened himself up, massaging his jaw tenderly. “Fine,” he replied, disinterested, “...it’s nothing.”
Buffybot looked towards the door. “Do you think I should go after him? Mister Gunn, I mean. He seemed awfully upset.”
“What? No way!” Cordelia suddenly stood up, annoyed. “We have a case to solve! A fee to charge! We are NOT wasting our time running around, chasing after the poster boy for anger management. Let him kill himself if he wants to!”
Doyle scowled. Up until the part about letting Gunn die, that had almost sounded like the Cordy he knew. Almost.
“Okay, something’s up, I’m on board with that much. There’s enough snipin’ and squabblin’ going on to make a reality show out of. Maybe somebody spiked their morning lattes?”
While Doyle pondered, Wesley returned to the counter. “Gunn will be fine,” he muttered, resting for a moment, “...we don’t need anyone around who isn’t willing to focus right now.”
Buffybot frowned. She didn’t know about THAT. But Wesley was supposed to be in charge, no matter how oddly everyone, himself included, was acting. And she had come to the decision that she could no longer keep silent about her own little problem. Which was, she admitted, no longer so little.
“There’s something else,” she announced, a little shyly. “I seem to be experiencing a power drain that I’m unable to compensate for. I haven’t been able to identify the source yet...”
“Are you all right?”
Angel dashed over, immediately putting his hands on Buffybot’s shoulders and easing her into a seat. He looked imploringly down towards her.
“Are you hungry? Do you need something...what do we have?” Turning, Angel glanced around, catching Cordelia’s eye. “Do we have any cookie dough in the fridge?”
Cordelia looked incredulous. “More like between your ears! Now we’re worrying about the ditzatron blowing a gas tank? Does no one but me have any priorities anymore?”
“I don’t run on gas,” Buffybot automatically corrected, before her linguistic decoders informed her that ‘ditzatron’ was almost certainly a blatant insult. The look on Doyle’s face seemed to indicate he agreed with that conclusion.
“Okay, now that’s just plain mean,” he accused, “...and not Cordy’s usual level of meanness, either. We gotta suss out what’s up here, doll, and fast.”
“Hear that?” Angel fired back, standing and staring Cordelia down angrily, “...she’s just hungry. And let me say it again...NO one is going to talk to Buffy like that while I’m...”
“I’m NOT Buffy!” Buffybot interrupted, a little perturbed. “I’m Buffybot! And I’m not hungry, I’m experiencing an unexplained power loss. And I think there may be something of a magical nature occurring that’s affecting everyone’s behaviour. Although it could be toxological, of course. I’d have to run some sort of test...does the hotel have any chemistry equipment?”
Buffybot waited for a moment, hoping her comments would put everyone back on track towards solving whatever it was that was happening. Doyle, likewise, waited with baited lack of breath.
Angel looked stunned, and he forgot all about Cordelia as he looked back upon Buffybot. He didn’t look happy.
“You’re not Buffy,” he said, as if he had just figured it out. Buffybot became quite worried...that hadn’t been the reaction she’d hoped for. And power reserves were now at 45%, and dropping.
Angel stalked off, hands doing a slow shake into fists at his side. Buffybot watched him with a mixture of concern and battle-readiness, even as Fred’s hand shot up from underneath her table.
“I’m not Buffy either!” She proclaimed, quickly withdrawing the arm as fast as she’d offered it. “At least, I don’t THINK I am...”
“Oh, someone MUST have put the whammy on these guys!” Doyle declared, watching as Angel practically fell onto the desk, gripping it so tightly he was almost warping the frame. “There’s definitely whammy involved here.”
Sadly not hearing Doyle’s succinct appraisal of the situation, Cordelia threw her hands up in disgust. “You know what? For once, Gunn had the right idea. I’m through sticking around here with you losers! Capital ‘L’, little ‘osers’!”
Buffybot and the others watched as Cordelia huffed towards the door, pulling it open with a yank and turning back.
“Get your own damn visions!” she cried, slamming the door behind her. The room was silent for a moment, before Wesley looked up, eyes shifting carefully from person to person.
“And then there were four...”

Miles away, Gunn’s weathered pickup screeched to a halt at a red light. Behind the wheel, Gunn breathed hard and deep, his fast-racing thoughts slowing down somewhat. As he sat, he remembered the events of the last while at the hotel. And a curious look passed over his features.
“Did I..?”
He paused, recalling the words he’d exchanged, and thrown, at his teammates. Arguing with Cordelia, threatening Angel...attacking Wesley?
He shook his head. It didn’t make sense. Why would he act like that, for no reason? It all seemed so silly now. But at the time...
“I just don’t get it,” he muttered to himself, not noticing that the light had changed to green, “...why the hell was I so ANGRY?”

Buffybot and the others remaining sat in relative silence for some time after Cordelia’s departure. Buffybot and Wesley both seemed to be rather engrossed in research...or at least, they were the only ones actually looking through any of the texts available. Fred had managed to make a convincing fort out of the table she was hiding under, and Angel...well, he was just sitting in a chair, looking grumpy, and occasionally staring out at Buffybot. Which was making her just a little uncomfortable.
“The big guy’s definitely getting his brood on, that’s for sure,” Doyle quipped, glancing from Buffybot’s side towards his old partner. Buffybot nodded agreement, then lifted her research text up to hide her mouth, whispering as slyly as she could manage.
“My power drain is becoming awfully serious, mister Doyle,” she informed him, noting her reserve power status of a mere 39% now. “Maybe you could get your friends to help us?”
Doyle turned back. “My who now?”
“You know...the powers! The ones that be! They must have some sort of powers, right? Otherwise they couldn’t call themselves that.”
“It don’t exactly work that way, darlin’,” Doyle tried to explain, “...I’m only here to advise. You know, steer you in the right direction, be a shoulder to cry on...”
“I don’t cry.”
“Well, okay, but the principle is...”
“And you’re insubstantial? So I couldn’t cry on your shoulder even if I WAS capable of that function! Tears would just pass through your form, wouldn’t they?”
“Principle! We’re talking principle here! Principle being, I can’t connect you with the Powers like that. I’m strictly advisory.”
“Oh.” Buffybot pondered that for a moment, peeking quickly over the top of her book. Angel and Wesley were both staring in her direction, and she flashed them a brief smile before ducking back down.
“So...do you have any advice for me?”
Doyle thought hard for a moment. “Sometimes my grandma would put her batteries in the fridge to keep ‘em longer. I think there’s a walk-in in the back we could fit you into...”
“We’re going.”
Wesley’s announcement came quite suddenly, Buffybot lowered her book to see what was happening. Slamming his own text shut, Wesley strode into the office past Angel and starting collecting items and shoving them into a small bag.
“Have you identified the demons? Buffybot asked, rising eagerly. “The ones with no-faces?”
“Standard Virook spirit guardians,” Wesley replied automatically, returning from the office with the bag slung over his shoulder, “...I recognized them as soon as Simms described them. They’re not the problem.”
Buffybot was confused. “They’re not?”
“The sun’s gone down,” Wesley continued, glancing towards Angel, “...we’re going to finish this. Gather Fred. Come along, Buffybot.”
Before she could ask further, Wesley marched past Buffybot and out the door towards the car. Fred made a few worried sounding noises as Angel began hauling her from her makeshift fortification. And an system alert informed Buffybot that several of her newer defense and scanning upgrades were being automatically taken offline as a result of her continuing power loss. She frowned, and Doyle gave her a serious look.
“Showtime, kiddo.”

Minutes later a telephone rang in the empty lobby of the Hyperion, picked up after a few rings by Cordelia’s voice on the answering machine. After the beep, the exact same voice began leaving a message.
“Guys? Cordy. Wow, I don’t...seriously, I don’t know WHAT I was thinking before. I mean, wow. I’m SO sorry about everything I said, really. You’re not losers at all! No more than we always are, anyways. I mean...you know what I mean. I love you guys! I’m bringing cookies in tomorrow, okay? I’m REALLY sorry!”
The line cut off, and the lobby was silent. The phone rang again a minute later, followed by another message from Cordelia, in which she elaborated that, while deeply apologetic, she would not be baking those cookies herself, because that simply wasn’t her thing. She was sure everyone would understand that part.

“What are we doing here, Wes?”
Angel sat behind the wheel next to Wesley, with Buffybot (in proper hat and trenchcoat ensemble, natch) and Fred in the back, parked across the street from Caritas. Doyle had departed at the Hotel, when Buffybot came to the conclusion that they wouldn’t be able to converse at all in the car. It was odd how he seemed to respond to her thoughts in that way. Then, everything about Mister Doyle seemed odd to her if she thought about it.
“She’s coming,” Wesley said, staring intently out the window towards the darkened door of the club. Buffybot noted his heartrate was extremely high.
“Right. Terrific.” Angel slammed his palms against the steering wheel, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. As she listened to Fred rattle off the seventy-fifth decimal of pi beside her, Buffybot tried to shut down any non-vital systems to conserve power. She hoped Wesley was right about finishing this here, whatever ‘this’ turned out to be. At the rate she was going, she’d be inert by morning.
And that would be bad.
“Who’s ‘she’?” Buffybot couldn’t help but ask...despite her power issues, her curiosity generators were as active as ever.
“She’ll be here,” was all Wesley gave by way of response, “...she thinks we don’t now. But I know. Oh yes.”
Buffybot nodded politely. “Well, that’s swell!” she said with a perky grin, hoping to improve the mood in the car. Fred wasn’t quite the conversationalist today that she had previously demonstrated. Although her speed with calculating pi was rather impressive...for a human.
Turning, Angel leaned back towards Buffybot. “Are you okay back there, Buffy? Do you need me to move the seat up?”
Oh dear, Buffybot thought dejectedly. We’re back at Buffy again.
“There she is!”
Wesley pressed his face up against the window glass eagerly, as a black sedan pulled up a few doors down on the other side of the street. It idled a moment before the engine shut down, and the drivers side door opened. Buffybot immediately recognized the occupant as Lara Markham, the woman they’d met the previous night at Caritas. Buffybot had thought she seemed pleasant enough, but her new friends were highly suspicious, both of her and the law firm she represented. But wasn’t the law a good thing?
Lara waited a moment after buzzing down before opening the door and disappearing inside the club. Buffybot and the others waited similarly, before Wesley started opening his door.
“Let’s go,” he said with a nervous grin, stepping out into the cool LA night, clutching tightly at the bag slung over his shoulder. Buffybot paused, glancing at Fred, who was muttering beneath even Botty’s ability to decipher, and quaking badly.
“I’m not sure Fred is feeling very well,” she mentioned, “...maybe she shouldn’t...”
Wesley didn’t even look back as he answered. “Bring her.” And the door slammed behind him. That seemed a little rude, Buffybot decided, but was about par for the course so far today. She spared a tiny glance at her power levels...a worrisome 28% now, and dropping faster and faster. For the first time since her reactivation by the Powers, she felt a genuine wave of replicated nostalgia for her old recharging unit. Boy could she use it now.
As she tried to gently ease Fred out of her seatbelt, Angel hopped out of the car, sprang the seat forward, and extended his arm to Buffybot to help her out himself.
Buffybot’s mouth made a half-smile. He may be confusing just now, she decided, but at least Angel was being a gentleman half the time. That, she supposed, was something.

“Well, I must say my client will be very disappointed, Krevlornswath of the Deathwalk...”
“It’s just Lorne,” the Host corrected, taking a sip of a recently refreshed seabreeze as he leaned on the bar and smiled congenially at his guest. “And your man drove a hard bargain, I admit. Nearly had me with this last little nugget.”
Lorne slid the sheet of paper Lara had handed him the previous night off of the bar and waved it gently a few times. “If you’d caught me a week ago, I’d probably be signing over to you as we speak and drink. But I woke up today...like a weight had been taken off me. Dawn of a whole new day, yadda yadda yadda.”
Lara made a sour face. “I was afraid of that,” she muttered softly.
“Yeah, I think I’ll start fixing the old girl up again...better than ever! Maybe a few new booths in the corner...you and your fella could even come to the grand opening, that’s how good a mood I’m in!”
Lara was about to leave in defeat when footfalls sounded on the steps behind her. She and Lorne turned to see Wesley, Angel, Buffybot and Fred coming towards them. Wesley’s face was seething with something between fear and rage.
“Sorry to spoil the good mood,” he offered, coming to a stop a few feet from Lorne and Lara, “...but we’re on to your little game. All of it.”
Buffybot shifted her hold on Fred, who seemed reluctant to stand under her own power. “We are?” She checked her memory and logic processors to no avail. “What’s their game?”
Lara rose cautiously, while Lorne seemed to suddenly reel noticeably, setting his seabreeze down and clutching at his head.
“Oh wow...what IS that? Does anyone else feel that?”
“Never mind what we feel!” Wesley reached into his bag and quickly withdrew a small pistol, leveling it in Lara and Lorne’s direction. Lara took a step backwards, while Lorne continued to suffer under some unseen effect.
“Hey!”
Buffybot stepped to one side, propping Fred up against the bar, which she promptly began to hide under. “Wesley, I’m confused...guns are bad! And isn’t Lorne our friend?”
“Mister Wyndham-Pryce,” Lara offered slowly, trying her best to sound soothing, “...I understand you’re upset, but I think I may know what’s happening...”
“Shut up, shut UP!!” Wesley gritted his teeth, beads of sweat starting on his brow. He tightened his grip on the pistol. “You’re always trying to deceive us! Lying, scheming...don’t think we don’t know! And now you’re turning our allies against us!”
Wesley turned his sights onto Lorne, who only barely noticed. “Oh man...you guys just brought some MAJOR bad mojo in here...hard to focus, but...but it feels familiar, somehow...”
“Wes, put the gun down,” Angel ordered, stepping up beside Buffybot, “...let Buffy and I handle this!”
Ignoring Angel, Wesley thrust his weapon forward at the demon. “Give us that paper! I want to see what it was that was worth selling us out to the devil!”
Finally acknowledging the armed weapon pointed in his direction, Lorne gathered himself up enough to tenderly extend the sheet of paper in his hand. Wesley motioned him towards Angel. Buffybot watched with growing concern as Angel reluctantly took the paper from Lorne, while she extrapolated a possible course of action to disarm Wesley, who she no longer believed was in his right mind.
Unfortunately, her current dropping power levels offered little chance of successful intervention, at least not before someone got hurt. Faster than a speeding bullet she was currently not.
“What is it?” Wesley shook as he asked the question, and Lara shifted nervously as the gun in his hand twitched. “What did they offer him? What were his thirty pieces of silver??”
Casting a glance at Wesley, Angel slowly turned his eyes to the paper Lorne handed him. There was a scanned image there, followed by a detailed authentication list concerning the items pictured. Angel cocked his head in surprise.
“It’s...”
“What?!?”
Wesley turned, looking like a madman. Buffybot got ready for action, 25% capability or no, as Angel finally read the contents of the paper to him.
“Judy Garland’s ruby slippers from ‘The Wizard of Oz’,” he said, casting a second, dubious glance at the sheet. “I thought they were in the Smithsonian...”
Braving a grin, Lara Markham spoke up. “Most people do,” she explained, “...my client has , shall we say, exceptional resources.”
Wesley stepped forward, glancing in confusion at the paper. “The Wizard..?”
Underneath the bar, Fred huddled into a ball and started singing softly to herself in a small, shaky voice. “Some-where, over the rainbow...”
Buffybot looked down. Poor Fred, she thought...whatever was happening seemed to be having an awfully adverse effect on her. She’d just have to figure this out, and fast!
With a smile, Buffybot continued Fred’s musical passage, patting the girl on the shoulder. “...way UP high...”
Suddenly Lorne’s eyes snapped into alertness and he glared at Buffybot. “Holy guacamole,” he shouted, “...it’s YOU. You’re the reason all this is happening!”
Angel cast an angry glance at Lorne. “What??”
“Me?” Buffybot looked hurt at the accusation. “But I’m not! Really!”
Beside Lorne, Lara too looked as if she had had a revelation. “Of course...”
Wesley cast a suspicious glance at Lara, then turned his gaze back towards Buffybot. A feral gleam came into his eyes. “Yes...yes, of course...it’s obvious! I should have seen it before!”
Stepping back, Wesley turned his pistol towards Buffybot, who froze. “Wesley?”
“This all started when YOU showed up! Straight from Wolfram and Hart, no doubt...were Gunn and Lorne in on it from the beginning? Or did they come later?”
Buffybot shook her head, though somewhat grateful that Wesley was pointing his gun at her and not anyone it could actually hurt. “Wesley, I promise...”
“Get AWAY from her!”
Without warning, Angel lunged at Wesley from the side, giving him his second tackle of the day. Wesley’s finger twitched reflexively, and the room suddenly echoed with the report of a gunshot as he and Angel crashed to the floor. Fred screamed, and Buffybot worried terribly for a moment that the bullet had struck her.
Until, happily, her somewhat slowed external scanners told her that no, the bullet had impacted squarely in Buffybot’s midsection, just as she’d hoped.
Angel slammed Wesley’s arm onto the floor, sending the smoking gun clattering across the floor. Wesley tried to get up, but a hammering blow from Angel knocked that idea right out of his head. He fell limply down, and Angel scrambled off of him.
“Buffy!”
Running over to Buffybot in less than a second, Angel looked her over with grave concern, emotion clear in his eyes. “Buffy, are you hit? Lie down, you should lie down! I’ll call for an ambulance...”
“Angel, please, I’m fine!” Buffybot reassured, though she did find his fussing awfully cute. “I’m Buffybot, remember? Bullets only bounce off me. Although it did make a nasty tear in my epidermal covering...”
Buffybot took a quick peek at the scar in question, wondering how she would ever manage to effect repairs on it with her dwindling power reserves. Angel also gave it a good look, the concern on his face rapidly transforming into something new. Something that Buffybot found, when his eyes rose up to meet hers again, much less cute.
The vampire stared in abject rage. “You’re not Buffy,” He said grimly, his face twisting into a more demonic configuration. Before Buffybot could even assume a defensive stance, Angel’s fist shot up and out, catching her in the jaw and sending her crashing overtop of the bar. Lorne winced, watching his seabreeze explode into the ether and even more of his club get trashed. Darting away from the bar, Fred made a few fearful noises before making for the exit and fleeing the club entirely. And Lara Markham backed up to a safe distance and started chanting in a low voice and a dead language.

“Angel, what are you doing?”
Buffybot found it an awkward question to ask, sprawled as she was in behind Lorne’s bar, legs up and shattered glass everywhere. She made a crude attempt at repositioning herself, when Angel came leaping over the bar after her, landing by her head. She flashed him a quick smile, which he seemed less than inclined to return.
“Why?” Was all he gave in response to her question, reaching down and grabbing her roughly by the shoulders, “...why do you LOOK like her?”
Pulling Buffybot upwards, Angel hauled her into the air and slammed her down onto the bartop. There was a loud cracking as the structure threatened to give, and Lorne made another face.
“Easy kids...let’s play nicely in uncle Lorne’s place...”
Buffybot put as much power as she could spare (not much) into her defensive systems, swinging about to a sit facing Angel. She tried to give him a kick backwards as she spun, but her motor functions were woefully slow to be dealing with an enraged vampire of Angel’s experience just now. He dodged easily, nailing her in return with another hit that knocked her backwards off the bar, back onto the floor of the club. She rolled onto her stomach, only just managing to stop her momentum when she heard Angel landing beside her again.
“I’ll KILL you!” he shouted, driving a foot into her back hard, slamming her down. Buffybot felt that one all through her plasmonic relays and, while it didn’t hurt in the technical sense, it wasn’t very pleasant. And the fight was draining her resources even faster than before.
“Take you apart,” Angel muttered, in a blind rage now as he leaned down and took hold of Buffybot’s hair, “...piece by piece!”
With a savage pull, Angel yanked Botty back by the hair and drove her face first into the floor. The woodwork splintered, and Buffybot reflexively activated a battle-taunt from her files.
“Hey! No hair-pulling, you big girl!”
Using a dangerous amount of power, Buffybot shoved herself onto her back, dragging Angel slightly off-balance as he tried to maintain his grip. She launched a scissor-style kick at him as she turned, this time cracking him squarely in the head. He lost his grip and stumbled away, allowing Buffybot to flip to a stand. Power levels at 15% and dropping rapidly...
“Angel, please! I don’t want to fight you! We should be fighting the bad guy! Whoever that is!”
Buffybot paused, waiting to see if her attempt at reasoning would come to anything. She hoped so...her virtual simulators didn’t give very promising odds just now as to her emerging victorious in...
“LIAR!”
Angel slammed into Buffybot full force and together they crashed through a table. Buffybot realized, as Angel pinned her to the ground and starting hammering her with a flurry of blows, that reason had been a bust.

Beside all this, Wesley was slowly gathering his senses back, observing the sudden melee with mixed emotions. As he nursed his jaw, his gaze slowly drifted from Angels attack on Buffybot towards the other spectators...specifically, Lara Markham, who he noticed was breathing deeply, and muttering some sort of ritualistic chant. A distrustful sneer crossed his face as he started pulling himself to his feet.

Buffybot launched a weak counter-attack that Angel parried without thinking, taking her by the shoulders and slamming her hard onto the floor again. She was starting to get warning alerts from multiple systems, and some of her secondary functions were shutting down automatically. Angel kept on hammering her, and it was starting to sink in that unless help arrived very shortly, she was not going to win this fight.
There was a ripple out of the corner of Buffybot’s optics as Doyle shimmered into view...apparently, she realized, summoned by her mental plea for help. Unless he had some darned good advice for her, however...
“Hey, gal,” he started, before properly observing the scene, “...where are we? Some kinda nightcl...”
Doyle stopped as Angel drove a fist into Buffybot’s face, drawing blood from his knuckles and sending chips of the floor skittering away. The vampire rose and started laying one vicious kick after another into Botty’s midsection, and she tried to no avail to defend herself.
“What the Hell?? Angel! Angel, man, stop!! What are ya doin’??”
“Please...” Botty said weakly from the floor, structural integrity monitors sounding warning bells as Angel kept hammering at her exoskeleton, “...please, stop...”
“Botty get up!!” Doyle shouted, fighting away the initial feeling of helplessness at the brawl he’d been summoned to, “...kick his ass! You have my blessing already!!”
“Can’t,” she muttered, being completely ignored by this time by the others, “...not enough...power...help...”
“Tricked me,” Angel growled, barely coherent as he continued his savage attack, “...I’ll kill you...”
“Son of a BITCH!” Doyle glared at his old boss, swinging an ineffective ghost-punch through his head. “Angel, I swear, you get a grip or this Irish ghost is gonna haunt your broody, Americanized ass ‘til the end of time!!”

Steadying himself Wesley took a long breath and made a desperate run at Lara, a mad mingling of thoughts concerning hexes and mind control running through his fevered head. Lorne tried to head him off, but Wes just knocked him down and carried on. Lara spoke faster.
“You won’t get me!” he shouted, arms flailing, “...I won’t let you!”
“Ferryta amu-na caligia,” Lara intoned, bracing herself for what might be a nasty hit, “...Inserraya!”

A split-second before Wesley collided with Lara Markham, and just before Angel could drive another kick into Buffybot, a blinding white-red light flared up around the huddled robot, making everyone in the room reel. Even Doyle had to squint for a moment until the flash died down, and all eyes looked to the source. To their surprise, it wasn’t Buffybot that had caused the glare.
On her back, digging in with tentacle-like claws, a massive, bloated creature straddled Buffybot, ghastly fangs sunk into the back of her neck, sucking greedily. It was twice the size of her.
The creature suddenly removed it’s fangs from Botty and shook the wobbly mass that stood for it’s head. It took a look around itself, and saw all the sets of eyes staring at it in varying stages of disbelief.
“Aw, crap!” It shouted hoarsely. Beneath Wesley, Lara pointed an anxious finger towards the creature.
“KILL the damned thing already!” she cried, annoyed. Wesley looked baffled as he rolled off of the woman he’d just sacked.
Angel took a step back, gawking at the monstrosity leeching off of Buffybot, while the robot in question raised a weak arm forward.
“A...little help, please?”
Doyle slapped (or tried to slap) Angel’s back testily. “That’s your cue, doofus.”
“Buffy?”
Scowling, Angel lunged towards Buffybot, narrowly missing her and slamming himself into the bulbous creature attached to her. It tore off with a start, and the two of them rolled for a moment, before Angel got a solid grip around it’s grotesque frame. He started squeezing at it with gusto.
“No one,” he grunted, doubling his efforts against the beast, “...hurts Buffy while...I’m around!” If she had been paying attention, and not slumped down in a desperate attempt to save power, Buffybot would have found that statement highly dubious. But it would make a little more sense in a moment.
“AAAAHHHHHH!!”
The creature offered one last scream before Angel burst it like an overripe melon, and another explosion of light occurred. This time the light burst into a thousand different fragments of colour, like someone had peeled a rainbow apart. The shards of light swirled around the room in a frenzy, before turning and collectively charging towards Buffybot. They slid into her at all points in her body, filling her with light for several seconds, until the glow faded and the room was silent.
Angel took several steps back, staggering and raising a hand to his head, something Wesley was doing as well. Each of them shut their eyes tightly, struck by a sudden shared headache. When they reopened them, Buffybot had risen to her feet. She was checking her power readings, which were at 85% and steadily rising. She smiled.
Giving his head a shake, Angel looked tentatively forward at the robot. “Buffybot?”
She continued smiling. “Well,” she noted happily, “...THAT’S better.”

“So...what was it, exactly?”
Fred, who Buffybot found several blocks away extricating herself from a makeshift cave she’d crafted out of old boxes and a dumpster, was the one asking as she, Angel, Wesley and Lorne relaxed inside Caritas. Lara had left promptly once the demon had been killed.
“Some sort of energy parasite,” Wesley explained, still nursing his jaw and feeling highly embarrassed, “...I’ve heard of their species once or twice before. It had likely been living here at the club for some time, surviving off the magical energies leaking from the portal on Lorne’s stage.”
“Little rat,” Lorne muttered, fresh seabreeze in hand, “...remind me to have the place fumigated before I reopen.”
“The creature absorbs magical energy and emits negative energy in return,” Wes continued, “...that is, negative emotional energy. Doubtless it’s been responsible for Lorne’s less than cheerful mood of late.”
Tipping his glass, Lorne smiled politely and took another drink. “When we arrived yesterday, the creature must have latched onto Buffybot, and her much more powerful power source. It’s been draining her dry,”
“...and driving us bonkers in return,” Fred finished, eyebrows arching high, “...some deal. But how did this woman from Wolfram and Hart know about it?”
“And how come she helped us?” Buffybot asked, “...I thought she was supposed to be one of the bad guys.”
“If Wolfram and Hart helped us,” Wesley said, “...you can bet it helped them, too. As to how she knew the precise incantation to materialize the beast, that’s a question I can’t answer.”
“Powerful brew for a glorified sales rep,” Lorne mused, “...methinks there’s more than meets the eye afoot.”
Wesley sighed sleepily. “Isn’t there always.”
The former Watcher got to his feet. “We should touch base with Gunn and Cordy,” he noted, “...and I believe there are some Virook spirit guardians we’re supposed to be banishing.”
Angel motioned towards Wes and Fred. “We’ll meet you at the car.”
Wesley nodded, taking Fred with him up the stairs. A glance towards Lorne prompted the green Host to make a graceful exit to the bedroom, leaving Angel alone with Buffybot. And Doyle, but he didn’t know that.
“Let’s hope you get off on the right foot this time,” Doyle said with a smile, vanishing into the ether. Buffybot watched him go, then turned to Angel, who was sitting in just about as sulky and contrite a pose as she had ever witnessed. She was glad he was back to being cute, in a non-magical way this time.
“I’m really sorry,” he finally said, barely meeting her gaze, “...I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“I’m fine,” Botty replied perkily, “...back to full power, just about. Structural integrity still intact, though you came close to causing a rupture near the end.”
“I’m REALLY sorry.”
“It’s okay!” Buffybot put on a fresh smile to reassure him. “Besides, I would have kicked your butt if I’d been at full power!”
Angel laughed a short laugh, finally looking up at the ‘bot. “Let’s hope we never have to test that,” he said. Botty’s smile faded slightly.
“Do you want me to wear a wig?” She asked, curious, “...because if the way I look is really a problem...”
“It’s not,” Angel interrupted decisively, “...and no. I don’t want you to wear a wig. It’s just...sometimes, I can get a little confused when it comes to Buffy. Not usually ‘all-out attack’ confused, but I’m blaming that on the energy sucking monster.”
“But I’m not Buffy,” Buffybot replied matter of factly. Angel smiled at her.
“I’m getting that.”
Standing, Angel offered Buffybot his hand. “Friends?”
Buffybot took Angel’s hand eagerly, shaking it with vigour. “You betcha!”
Grinning, both Angel and Buffybot made their way to the stairs, he having decided to keep quiet about the one aspect of all this that still bothered him. The energy leech only consumed magical energy, Wesley had said. That meant that, aside from being dangerously powerful, whatever Buffybot’s power source was, it wasn’t natural...it was mystical.
But he didn’t mention it, and didn’t ask. Friendship with a robot had to start somewhere, he figured. Trust was as good a place as any.

Lara only turned on the small table lamp as she collapsed into her sofa, downing a strong shot of Scotch to sooth her nerves. Quinn would still be out of touch for a few days, but now she had something else to deal with.
Pulling her machine out of it’s hiding place, Lara activated it with a few switches and incantations. The device hummed to life, and a moment later, Lara wasn’t alone in the room. She waited as the new arrival settled herself across from her.
“Thanks for the heads up on the portal leech,” Lara began, “...it turned out quite crucial. Although we still lost the sale.”
“Too bad,” the visitor answered, “....Quinn really wanted that place, didn’t he?”
“It wasn’t important. He just wanted the portal there as a knickknack. Something else has presented itself, however, that may interest him much more.”
The visitor arched her eyebrow. “Really?”
Lara nodded, leaning back on her sofa. She took another drink, offering one to her guest. “Tell me, Doctor Markham,” she asked, pouring another glass, “...what do you know about the Buffybot?”
The woman took the drink and smiled. “A little,” she answered, taking a sip, “...and please. Call me Lara.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

ADDENDUM
Buffybot and Dawn went clothes shopping in PRETTY IN PINK

Shirley Muldowney drove cars real fast, and got a cool song written about her by L7.

Douglas Adams, of course, is the authour responsible for the HITCHHIKERS GUIDE TO THE GALAXY series (featuring, among other characters, Marvin the paranoid android), as well as the oddball mystical detective DIRK GENTLY novels.

Marcia Clark was one of the prosecutors who unsuccessfully tried to convict Orenthal J Simpson of murder, in a little known court case a few years back.

Buffybot’s song was ‘Born to Raise Hell’ by Lemmy Kilmister and Motorhead. One line of the song goes ‘Be a good soldier and die where you fell’.

The 2nd law of thermodynamics states that entropy (or disorder) will always increase rather than decrease in the universe.

Bell’s Theorem states, basically, that any two particles once in contact remain connected somehow, even nonlocally (ie: faster than the speed of light). Seemingly impossible, sine it violates basic relativity which states that no energy can move at greater than lightspeed, Jack Sarfatti theorized that information itself was the binding factor keeping particles connected, not any sort of energy at all.

Take all my physics babble with a grain of salt. I'm a layman, no fooling. Feel free, you smarter souls out there, to correct me!

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