Owen drove. He was trying hard to focus, keep his mind on the road, but he kept thinking back, back to Carla, and the kids. His grip tightened on the wheel, and his speed increased.
He had thought they could make it work! The others had told him it wouldn’t. But they’d made a good life...HE had made a good life for them, for a long time. They were happy. Why did this have to happen?
Tearing around a corner, Owen could feel the emptiness welling up inside him again. It hurt so much...he missed Carla. Why did he have to be so weak? Why did life have to be so hard?
Glancing forward as he sped down the road to Los Angeles, Owen noticed a pretty blonde girl, only a little older than Jamie was, standing to the side of the road. She had her thumb stuck out, looking for a ride. She was waving and smiling.
Maybe he should stop and pick her up, Owen thought. Maybe that would be simpler. And he felt so empty...
No, he ordered himself, slamming down on the gas. Not in the car. Just get to the City.
Then, everything will be fine.

A cloud of dust whipped Buffybot in the face as yet another car sped by, and her cheery smile faded again to a glum frown. She had thought for certain that waving would help! She turned and watched the latest vehicle drive away.
“I think that man was speeding,” she noted sullenly. The ghost at her side circled around.
“You’ll never get a ride that way, I’m tellin’ ya,” Doyle offered for the fifth time since Buffybot had begun her exercise in hitchhiking several hours ago on the outskirts of Sunnydale, “...show a little leg!”
Buffybot grimaced, picking some of the dust out of her hair. “People can see my legs, mister Doyle. I’m wearing a skirt, after all.”
Hopeless, Doyle thought. Good thing he was here. “Sure, they can see leg,” he said, “...but not, you know...LEG.”
Botty gave him a stare, and Doyle grinned, pantomiming the raising of a skirt up one’s leg and nodding provocatively. Her eyes widened.
“Oh, now...that seems awfully immodest, mister Doyle...”
“It’s just Doyle,” the ghost reminded her, “...and toss modesty! You’re a high-tech wonderbot and all, back from the grave and ready to make a name for herself in the big city! What’s to be modest about?”
“Plenty,” was Buffybot’s only reply, as she cast a glum look downwards. She was thinking about her recent return to her hometown, Doyle knew. It...hadn’t gone very well.
“None’a that, now,” he said, in his best cheerleader voice, “...past is past, that’s what I say. You’re startin’ a whole new life...limitless possibilities! Everything’s gonna get better from here on, you’ll see. Lots of time to put the wrong things right...you just need a little time to get your pretty mechanical head together.”
Buffybot looked skeptical. “I hope you’re right,” she admitted, “...but...Los Angeles?”
“What? It’s a start, isn’t it? Big town, lotsa opportunities, mucho demon activity for anyone lookin’ to slay the hours away. Plus, there are any number of lovely dive bars I can introduce ya too. The rummies at the Bishop and Belcher are especially colourful.”
“It sounds very nice,” Buffybot said politely, “...I guess I’m just worried a little. I’m a small-town gal, after all.”
Doyle laughed dismissively. “Ahh, this place was never big enough for you, doll. Trust me, once you get to the big noise, feel that smog fallin’ over ya like a nice, warm hug, you’ll wonder why you didn’t leave sooner.”
Botty had to smile. Mister Doyle seemed like a very nice man, she thought...for a ghost. “All righty,” she said, sending a little boost of power to her optimism capacitors, “...LA it is!”
“That’s the spirit,” said the spirit, “...but first, we’ve gotta get you there, modesty gal.”
“Someone will give me a ride, Doyle,” Buffybot noted, “..People are always doing nice things for each other. There’s hardly any reason to resort to naughty stuff like that.”
Hearing the approach of a car, Doyle feigned ignorance. “Like what?”
Buffybot mimicked a sigh. “You know,” she explained, “...exposing an inappropriate public length of flesh on my legs. Like you just suggested?”
When Doyle still looked overly perplexed, Buffybot reached down and yanked the side of her skirt up to demonstrate. She thought that, given he had just pushed the idea on her himself, perhaps mister Doyle was having some sort of difficulty with his short term...
The truck screeched to an immediate halt scant feet from where Buffybot stood, and a sudden swell of excitement cascaded her processors. Her first ride with a stranger!
“See, Mister Doyle?” She said smugly, “...someone stopped! Just like I told you!”
With a smile, Doyle backed away with palms raised. “When you’re right, you’re right, doll. You’ve taught me a valuable lesson.”
Buffybot smiled broadly, and the passenger door to the rusty pickup that had just slammed to a stop opened from within. A burly gent inside leaned over with a gleam in his eye.
“Hop in, sweet thing!” He shouted with a lewd grin, “...headin’ to LA, am I right?”
“That’s right,” Buffybot replied, impressed. “How did you know that?”
“Lucky guess,” the man said, holding back the chuckle. As if this was the first blonde bimbo he’d spotted on the road to LA. All wanting to be in the movies...heck, he figured, his pickup was probably about a close as most of them would get to THAT pipe dream. At least they usually had nice legs on’em.
“I’ll catch up with you in town,” Doyle remarked, casting a final wave and a smile at Buffybot as she climbed inside the truck. “And don’t worry. Everything’s gonna go fine. You’ll see.”
Botty smiled back, just before Doyle faded from view. She hoped he was right. But it all made sense, if you thought about it...Sunnydale had been a fun place, and Los Angeles was much bigger. Surely that meant more fun..?
That comforted her, as the truck started down the road to LA. A little logic always soothed her. She just had to get away from Sunnydale, she told herself. Then, everything would be fine.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
Law Offices of Wolfram and Hart
Special Operations Division

“Lara!”
Annoyed, Lilah Morgan stormed out of her office on the upper floors of Wolfram and Hart’s corporate office building and swept down the hall, scaring the wits out of at least two fresh faced kids from the mailroom. Something had just come across her desk that was not making her happy. And when Lilah wasn’t happy...someone usually suffered for it.
Lilah stopped at the office of Lara Markham, one of the lead girls in Acquisitions. She paused, hearing voices from inside. She pounded on the door.
“Lara!” She shouted again, angry. “Get your butt out here!”
The voices stopped, and a few seconds later Lilah heard footsteps. The door opened.
“Yes, Miss Morgan? Can I help you?”
Lilah stared at Lara Markham...fairly young. Gorgeous. Smart, from her file.
Lilah frowned. She hated her already.
“What the hell is this?” Lilah waved a fax in Lara’s face, outlining a piece of property that the younger woman was about to move in on. “Anything to do with Angel OR his associates gets cleared by ME first, got it? I don’t know if this is some new crap Gavin’s pulling, but...”
“I’m very sorry, Miss Morgan,” Lara explained calmly, smiling endearingly, “...I thought my secretary had faxed you that a week ago. I haven’t made any moves yet...and I can assure you, mister Park has nothing to do with this. To be honest, I’ve never liked him very much.”
Lilah shifted, trying to size the girl up. Hating Gavin was a notch in the plus column, at least. “What’s the interest, then?”
“I represent an exclusive client,” Lara explained, “...who has expressed his own interest in said property. I’m simply acting on his behalf.”
Lilah nodded, remembering something like that in Markham’s records. “Right...you’ve got connections with some black-market antiquities dealer, right? Something like that?”
“He’s a valuable Wolfram and Hart client,” Lara stressed, “...we enjoy a...close relationship.”
Lilah raised an eyebrow. “Just business?”
“Miss Morgan,” Lara said with a laugh, “...there’s no such thing as JUST business.”
“Right,” Lilah said, taking a quick look at Lara’s office. Smaller than hers...that was good too.
“Keep me posted on this one,” she told her, turning to leave. She paused when something struck her as odd about the office.
“Something wrong?” Lara asked, and Lilah shook her head.
“No, I...thought I heard voices before,” she said, wondering if she’d been hearing things. Lara smiled.
“I was talking to myself,” she said coyly, “...it helps me think.”

Lara Markham watched Lilah stalk back to her own office before closing her door, locking it tight. Amused, she walked back to her desk and pulled open the top drawer she’d hastily shut just a minute ago. Inside was an elaborate, esoteric looking electronic device, carefully embossed with mystic runes. It was bulky, but small enough to hold in one’s hand. She hit a switch to activate the white noise generator built into it’s components (she often forgot...but no one would be hearing voices outside the door THIS time). When she was satisfied everything was charged and ready she sat down and hit the recall switch, activating the main power core. It hummed mildly, and suddenly emitted a flash of swirling light. A moment later, Lara was no longer alone in the room.
“It was Morgan,” Lara told her new arrival, smiling a cheshire grin, “...just like you figured. Now...what were you saying about Argentina?”

Her name was Eileen. Owen could tell from her nametag, as she poured him another cup of coffee. She was a prettyish thing, not as pretty as Carla though. He was trying not to think about her. Either of them. But it hurt so much...
“You want anything else?”
The waitress stared at Owen. Aside from one old fellow by the window, Owen was the only customer in the place. Not surprising, from the food. He’d hoped it would at least fill him up. But it was too late for that now, wasn’t it? So unfair...
“Hey, honey? You okay?”
Owen looked up at the girl, the emptiness inside him almost unbearable now. He’d tried so hard, but there was nothing else for it, now. Maybe just ONE more. Maybe that would be enough. That would be fair.
“It’s not my fault,” he told her, a desperate twinge to his voice, “...I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted to live. You know? That’s all anyone really wants.”
Eileen just grimaced. “Uh, I guess so...you still gotta pay for the cheese dog, though.”
“It’s not my fault!” He said, shouting this time. Eileen stepped back, a little scared, as tears welled up in Owen’s eyes. He could feel it taking over, that urge, and he was too weak to fight it any more.
Eileen froze, unable to move or speak. She started inching towards Owen, seemingly against her will, and her skin started stretching and bubbling, from somewhere beneath the surface.
There was a sickening explosion, and the blood washed over and into Owen, who cried through the guilt. It wasn’t his fault.
He just wanted to live. Was that so wrong..?

“Did someone here order a pizza?”
Cordelia Chase held out the pizza boxes she’d just retrieved from the delivery guy downstairs, rather hoping someone was going to take them off her hands. She hadn’t exactly thought about where the hell she was going to set these down in the mess that was Fred’s room. Especially with everyone playing painter.
She spotted the little nutcase herself just then, brush in hand. Fred was always hungry, Cordy thought! She’d take’em!
“Hey Fred? Pizza!”
“In a minute,” the timid girl answered back, “...I just wanna finish this section."
Fred carried on across the room, taking her brush to a particularly decorative wall in her soon-to-be less crazy room. After months of fingerpainting in tongues all over her walls, teeny Fred had finally come to terms with her new place, here in the relatively real world of the Hyperion Hotel and Angel Investigations. Her parents had even come back to help out, after taking a few weeks to travel the coast.
What the heck, Cordy thought, the hotel wasn’t exactly pleasantville, but it beat a demon hell-dimension.
Unless of course, you happened to be a Queen there...
“That’s it,” she declared, tired both of this train of thought and the hot grease slowly dripping onto her arms, “...somebody clear me a space. Angel..?”
“Hmm?” The vampire turned, having scarcely noticed Cordy’s entry during his discussion of historical demons with Roger Burkle, Fred’s father. He had just been explaining about Spiro Agnew, and was about to describe the time he grappled with Nixon’s soul-parasite in Tennessee.
Cordelia just shot Angel a withering glare, and he immediately dropped his brush and ran over to where she stood, taking the pizza off her hands. As she shook the warm drippings of her hands, a crowd started to form around the food.
“Dibs on Hawaiian,” Charles Gunn declared, wiping his hands on his shirt. Beside him, Wesley Wyndham-Price started jostling for position. Both were quickly stymied by Trish Burkle, Fred’s mother.
“Boys,” she explained, “...no one’s touchin’ food until I see some hands being washed.”
Fred winced. “Oh, Momma...”
“That goes for you too, young lady!” Trish added lightheartedly, “...you’re not in some demon dimension now, and here we wash up before dinner.”
“You heard the lady,” Roger said, “...get clean before it gets cold.”
“We should move this downstairs,” Angel added, “...more room.”
“Oh sure,” Cordelia noted, “...after I haul ‘em all the way up here, you wanna bring them right back down. I am not a dumb waiter, y’know.”
Wiping his hands on a rag, Wesley looked the food over. “Wasn’t he supposed to bring drinks..?”
Cordelia glared. “I’m going downstairs,” she said cooly, “...someone had better follow me and feed me, or there’s gonna be trouble.”
Watching Cordelia leave, Fred looked a little concerned. “She’s not mad, is she..?”
Angel shook his head. “Just Cordy,” he replied, “...the rest of you go on. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“You sure?” Gunn asked, “...this is a hungry crowd. Two pies won’t last long.”
Angel shrugged. “I’m probably just having blood anyways.”

Narrowly missing the delivery boy, Buffybot walked cautiously into the lobby of the Hyperion hotel scant moments ago. It was the third hotel she’d ever been in, and she thought it was the prettiest by far.
“It’s very nice,” she noted aloud after ascertaining she was alone in the lobby save for her ghostly guide, “...you used to work here?”
“Naw,” Doyle answered, taking a gander about himself, “...we just had a dingy little office back in my day. Guess they’re movin’ up in the world, nice digs like these.”
“I’m a little nervous about this...”
“You’ll be fine, doll,” Doyle reassured her, “...just remember what we talked about. They can’t know about me. I’ll be your little secret, right?”
“I remember,” Buffybot said, “...but I don’t exactly understand.”
“Rules of the game, kiddo,” he replied with a wave of his hands, “...we’re here for you, not me. I’d just confuse the issue, trust me.”
Buffybot frowned. It seemed plenty confused to her already. New body, new emotions, now a new city? It was a lot for a single robot to take in. And these friends of Mister Doyle’s were causing her concern as well. She’d only met Cordelia the one time, during her time-travels. Mister Gunn was very nice, though. But would he even remember her..?
Just as these and several dozen other worries cropped up in Buffybot’s conflict managers, her sensors detected movement from above. She froze.
“Someone’s coming,” she said softly. Doyle smiled.
“This is it, kid...just be yourself, and relax. Angel and Cordy are good folk, sure as I’m non-corporeally standin’ here. Never met the new folks, but I’m sure...”
Doyle paused, glancing from side to side to notice he was talking to himself. At the same moment, he spotted Cordelia at the top of the stairs, coming his way. The sight gave him a warm grin. She looked better than ever. He was glad he was only here as a spirit, and not something more solid. Otherwise...
Focus, he reminded himself. You’re on the job! Now where the heck..?
Before long, Doyle relocated his wayward quarry, huddled behind a pillar several feet away. She seemed to be trying to make herself as tiny as possible. He walked over, giving her a questioning look.
“What the hell are ya doin’?” He asked and she motioned frantically for him to lower his voice.
“I’m hiding,” she whispered, and Doyle looked at her as if she’d gone quite goofy.
“Hiding?” he repeated, glancing from Buffybot to Cordelia, who had reached the ground floor by now and was heading to the office, and back again. “From what?”
“What if they don’t like me?” Buffybot asked in as low a voice as her vocal generators could manage, “...or tell Willow and the others about me? I don’t want them to know I’m here!”
“You’re bein’ silly,” Doyle chastised, “...are you a machine or a mouse?”
Buffybot frowned. “I don’t understand that question.”
Sighing, Doyle glared at his cowering companion. “Just get out there, wouldya? You’re makin’ me look bad.”
“No!” Buffybot whispered emphatically, running numerous escape scenarios through her neural net, “...It’ll be simpler this way. I’ll get a job...I’m programmed for numerous useful tasks that could gain me employment...then a nice house, and maybe I could get a cat...I used to have a cat, but he...”
“All right,” Doyle said, interrupting, “...I’ll take care of this.”
Before Botty could ask, Doyle stepped out into the lobby main, pointing to Buffybot’s hiding place. “Hey, Cordy!!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, “...over here!!”
“SSSSHHHH!!!”
That should do it, Doyle thought with a smile. He looked back at Buffybot, who was not so similarly amused.

Stepping out slowly, Cordelia emerged from the office, looking about for that noise she’d just heard. She could have sworn it came from the lobby...but it seemed to be empty.
“Hello?” She asked, glancing around questioningly. Was Fred sneaking about..?

“That was a dirty trick, Mister Doyle,” Buffybot whispered, a little annoyed. In her anxiety, she’d forgotten that others couldn’t hear his voice. Silly emotions, fiddling with her like that. She was rapidly coming to believe that Anya had been correct in her assessment of them.
“Never said I played fair,” Doyle said with a self-satisfied smile, “...now go on! Time to start livin’, doll.”
“Is somebody there?” Cordelia asked, louder this time. Buffybot’s sensors told her she was coming closer to her location.
Botty lowered her eyes. “I’m scared,” she said flatly. The spirit looked at her sympathetically.
“That’s a start,” he told her, then faded from view. She was on her own now.
What should she do? Everything could go so wrong...things often did, it seemed. She didn’t think she could take another incident like in Sunnydale.
Still...this was what she came for. And besides, a newly completed scan of her surroundings had discovered the a/v surveillance systems in place. If they didn’t know she was here already, they would soon...not much point in hiding anymore.
Oh, phooey, Buffybot thought with resolve...meeting new people is fun, right?

A few feet away, Cordelia was just about ready to assume she’d been hearing things. Probably inhaled a few too many paint fumes or something. Better just get to the kitchen for some plates before everyone...
The figure stepped out into view from behind the pillar in a swift motion, and Cordelia shrieked, her hand leaping to cover her mouth. It took her startled brain a few seconds to recognize the girl before her.
Buffybot flashed Cordelia her best smile, trying to suppress the awkwardness and fear her emotion generators were pumping out. This was no time for them to be causing problems! She gave the dark-haired girl a polite wave, hoping she hadn’t spooked her too much just now.
“Hello,” she said simply, and recognition started to become apparent now on Cordy’s face. Buffybot was about to introduce herself when, much to her surprise, Cordelia started sniffling and...crying?
Oh no, Botty thought with a distinct note of disappointment. She HATES me.
“Oh, God,” Cordelia suddenly said, trying to shut off the sudden waterworks that had popped up, “...I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would hit me this bad.”
Buffybot was confused then, wondering just what it was that had hit Cordelia, when she walked forward and wrapped her arms around Buffybot, giving her a huge hug.
Oh good, Botty thought with sudden relief. She LIKES me!
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Cordelia continued, her voice clogged with emotion, “...when you...I mean, when we heard you died, I just...”
Buffybot’s eyes went wide. Cordelia had heard about THAT?
Pulling out of the hug, Cordy sized Buffybot up with a smile. “Wow...I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since High School...seems like a lifetime ago, huh?”
That seemed extra-odd to Buffybot...she hadn’t thought Cordelia knew she was Buffybot during their brief encounter. Had she blown her cover somehow?
“Cordelia?”
The voice was Wesley’s, from the stairs. “Are you all right? I heard a shout...”
Turning from Buffybot, Cordy pulled the confused robot out into view. “Wes, get down here!” She yelled, waving the former watcher over, “...look who’s here!”
Wesley paused on the way down the stairs when he saw, and a smile lit up his face. “Buffy!”
Wes started racing down the stairs, beaming with joy. Buffybot, however, was becoming less enthused as her logic processors explained to her what was happening. Of COURSE they think you’re Buffy, she told herself scoldingly. Now they’ll probably be really mad when they find out you’re not! Oh, I knew this was a bad idea...
“It’s marvelous to see you again!” Wes gushed, darting over to where the two women stood. Buffybot tried to correct the situation as fast as she could.
“Thank you very much,” she said to both of them, “...but I’m afraid I’m not actually...”
“Buffy?”
Buffybot looked to the top of the stairs, and recognized Angel immediately from her file photos. He looked quite distraught to see her (or rather, ‘Buffy’). Behind him, three people Buffybot didn’t recognize also stared down at her. She wasn’t sure she cared for all this attention.
“What are you doing here?” Angel asked, gliding quickly down the stairs towards Buffybot. Fred and her parents slowly followed.
“Who’s ‘Buffy’?” Roger asked, wondering who would go and give their child such a name. That’s California for you, he thought.
“Angel’s ex,” Fred explained, staring at Buffybot with wide eyes.
“She’s pretty,” she admitted, a little self-consciously, her face scrunching up as she continued her scrutiny, “...looks awful young, though...”
“I need to explain something,” Buffybot stated, fighting very hard to keep the awkwardness down now. Angel stepped towards her.
“No, I...” he stammered, looking more than a little awkward himself, “...that came out wrong. It’s good to see you. I just...I thought we agreed we weren’t going to...to...”
Angel stared hard at Buffybot, sniffing the air subtly as he did. Slowly, the look on his face shifted from concern to distrust.
“You’re not Buffy,” he suddenly said, taking a step back. Buffybot had to admit to being impressed. Her pheromonic generators were designed to fool even Vampire nostrils.
Then again, most vampires didn’t know Buffy quite as well as Angel probably did...
“Paint fumes getting to you too, huh?” Cordelia asked, glaring at Angel, “...of COURSE she’s Buffy! I admit, she usually dresses better than this, but...hey, she died! Give a girl a break!”
“She’s NOT Buffy, Cordelia,” Angel insisted, stepping back in with anger rising in his voice. Buffybot found her combat preparation subroutines automatically kicking in, but she made no movement. She stepped away from Cordelia.
“He’s right,” she said simply, “...I’m not Buffy.”
Wesley stared curiously. “Come again?”
Cordy thought hard. “Is this some weird, ‘I died and came back, and so now I’m a different person’ thing?”
Buffybot pondered that with interest for a second. “Well...maybe a LITTLE...”
“What are you?” Angel demanded, his anger rising. Despite thinking he could be a shade more polite, Buffybot figured it would be best to explain everything straightaway. And she nearly did, when someone else beat her to it.
“Who’s that I see?”
Buffybot looked past Angel and saw Gunn arriving at the bottom of the stairs, setting two pizza boxes down and making his way over to the commotion. He flashed Botty a smile.
“Is that my robot? That who I see?”
A sudden surge of excitement boosted Botty’s optimism circuitry. “Mister Gunn!” She cried, anxious, “...you...remember me?”
Gunn just shot her a look. “How could I forget?” He said plainly, opening his arms, “...damn, girl, get over here and give a brother some love!”
Amidst the dumbfounded stares suddenly cropping up around her, Buffybot developed one of her own. “You want me to make love to you?” She asked, decidedly surprised. Gunn flashed a quick blush of red.
“Hug,” he quickly corrected, “...it means, give me a hug. C’mere!”
Understanding now, and completely unable to hold back the tremendous smile that followed, Buffybot burst past Angel and the others to wrap Gunn in a huge hug. He laughed, while everyone else just stared on.
“Don’t go crushin’ me with that robo-strength, now,” he warned her happily, “...I’m just a po’ human boy.”
“I’m so glad to see you, Mister Gunn,” Botty said honestly, thinking for the first time that Doyle had been right to send her here. Someone remembered her! Buffybot-her, even! Maybe she COULD start over here.
Botty and Gunn finished their hug and she stepped away, flashing a huge smile first to him, then to the assembled group of onlookers. She could do this.
“I’m Buffybot,” she announced, giving them all a quick wave, “...it’s VERY nice to meet you all!”
The immediate reactions, while certainly varied, all shared a common thread of surprise. Some more so than others.
“Excuse me,” Angel said, struggling for the words. Wesley stepped a little closer while he flustered.
“So this is the automaton you told us about,” he said, giving Buffybot a closer look, “...the resemblance is uncanny!”
“You were SERIOUS about that?” Cordelia asked of Gunn, shocked. He nodded proudly.
“Oh my God,” she said, gaping at the bot, “...still, that explains the outfit...”
“Hang on,” Angel stammered, as everyone else crowded a little closer to Buffybot. Even usually timid Fred was making moves, childish wonder in her big eyes.
“A robot?” Trish asked, wondering when she’d stop getting surprised in this place. She looked at her daughter questioningly. “Honey, did you build a robot and not tell us?”
“It wasn’t me,” Fred answered absent-mindedly, gaping at Buffybot, who smiled smartly at her. Fred giggled involuntarily.
“Hi,” she said, waving excitedly, “...I’m Fred. Oh, and these are my parents..?”
Fred flipped a quick thumb over her shoulder to indicate Roger and Trish behind her. Buffybot waved again.
“Well,” Roger said with hesitation, “...I never met a ro...”
“What sort of power source do you have?” Fred interrupted, unable to hold herself back any longer, “...do you recharge? And your cerebral matrix, is it a unidirectional logarithmic transfer junction, or more of a hive dataport? How do you deal with overflow of incoming information? ‘Cause I know I sure have trouble sometimes!”
Fred let out a loud, geeky laugh as Buffybot began her file on the girl. She was having trouble keeping her uses of the words ‘nerdy’ and ‘cute’ to a minimum.
“Oh my,” Fred continued at breakneck speed, “...listen to me. I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve wanted to build a robot of my own since I was a little bitty thing, and I’ve got about a million and zillion and one questions and I hope y’all don’t mind me carrying on like this, it’s just that this is so exciting I think I might pee my pants, and...did I tell you I was Fred?”
“You said that,” Cordelia said with a mocking stare, “...and now? You’ve proved it.”
Behind everyone, Angel continued stewing. “Could I just..?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fred!” Buffybot said, extending her hand. Almost shaking, Fred wrapped her fingers around Botty’s, who shook it heartily.
“And you too, Fred’s parents!” she added, glancing at Roger and Trish. They shared a look, then smiled politely.
“Ahem,”
Clearing his throat, Wesley, stepped up and gave a small bow. “Wesley Wyndham-Price,” he said, introducing himself, “....it’s...a unique honour, miss.”
Finally extricating her hand from Fred’s grip, Botty turned. “Hello, mister Wyndham-Price! You were Buffy’s watcher for a time, right?”
Wesley looked taken aback. “Call me Wesley, please,” he started, “...and yes. How did you...?”
“Oh, I have a full file on you! It’s so nice to meet you!”
“Full file, huh?” Cordy asked, moving in, “...does it mention shrieking like a woman in there?”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Cordy, I hardly think...”
“Oh yes,” Buffybot suddenly said, “...it’s right there at the top!”
Gunn tried to hold back the laugh as Cordelia looked impressed. “Wow...good files!”
Crestfallen, Wesley took a deep breath and tried to regain his dignity. “Don’t believe everything you read,” he said, sulking away. Cordelia stepped in.
“Cordelia Chase,” she said, half a smile playing on her face, “...so, you’re the Bionic Buffy, huh? What brings you to the big city?”
“Well...”
Buffybot paused, accessing her prepared scenario for explaining her appearance in Los Angeles, without mentioning Doyle’s role in the affair. She didn’t want to fib...but he had been quit insistent. Something about the Powers That Be, a concept that even Buffybot’s upgraded brain was scarcely equipped to get around.
“HEY!”
Everyone’s head turned towards Angel, who had finally had enough. He stood fuming, glaring at Buffybot.
“Don’t mean to interrupt or anything,” he said severely, “...but can someone explain to me, please, why there’s a robot Buffy standing in my hotel??”
Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “YOUR hotel..?”
Ignoring the question for now, Angel continued glaring, and Gunn cleared his throat. “...Did I forget to tell you about that?”
Angel spread his arms in exasperation. “Must have slipped your mind!”
Remaining still, Buffybot quietly wondered why Angel was so angry. Everyone else seemed so nice!
“Sorry, man,” Gunn continued, “...it’s just...that happened when you were on your zen-grief tour of boring old monasteries, and by the time you got back...”
Seeing the dissatisfied look on Angels’ face, Gunn just shrugged weakly. “...it kinda slipped my mind.”
“Well?” Angel persisted, looking quite unamused, “...someone wanna fill me in?”
“It’s kind of a long story,” Buffybot started, “...originally, I was...”
“Not you,” Angel barked. Botty looked a little bothered at being interrupted so sharply. Maybe Spike had been right about Angel after all..?
“It’s okay,” Fred suddenly said, trying to defuse the situation, “...everything’s good. She’s a good robot, right? Gunn?”
Happy to hear a voice in his corner, Gunn straightened up. “Absolutely! She’s on our side, man,” he said, addressing Angel, ”...your Sunnydale pals had her built by some mad-scientist wannabe, fill in for your girlfriend while she was, you know, taking her beauty sleep and everything. She’s cool. Good in a scrap, too!”
Buffybot nodded in agreement with Gunn’s endorsement, although she thought his version of her creation slightly askew. She wondered if Willow and the others had possibly glossed over the fact that Spike had commissioned her creation and not them. Looking at the current situation, perhaps that had been a decent fib to tell.
“Okay,” Angel finally said, calming somewhat, “...fine. Weird, unbelievable, and downright creepy, but fine.”
“I’m not creepy!” Buffybot pointed out defensively.
“...but why is she HERE?”
“I admit, I was wondering that myself,” Wesley added with a curious tone. All eyes slowly returned towards Buffybot. She steeled herself, and got ready to tell her story...minor omissions notwithstanding.
“Hang on,” Cordelia interjected before Buffybot could begin, “...let’s at least have dinner while we hear this. Sounds like it’s gonna be a long...painful...vision...”
That sounded quite nonsensical to Buffybot, who stared at Cordelia as she suddenly staggered back. Her hands shot to her head and she grabbed at it, shouting in pain. She reeled, and nearly fell backwards until Buffybot leapt forward and caught her, worry flooding her interaction centers. She immediately began a physiological scan of Cordelia.
“Cordy!”
Angel bounded over to his fallen co-worker in a flash, as Buffybot examined her scans.
“She seems to be having some sort of cerebral event,” she declared, noting that even her heightened sensors were still somewhat inadequate for a full human diagnostic, “...should we alert emergency medical..”
“Get away from her!” Angel shouted, pulling Cordelia away from Buffybot. He didn’t even look at Botty, who stared back in astonishment. How rude..!
“Talk to me, Cordelia...”
“There’s...there’s a diner,” she finally said, blinking the pain out of her head as best she could as the others gathered round, “...Mae’s Café. 1402 Sullivan...dingy neighbourhood. Someone killed them...everyone inside...”
“Killed?” Wesley asked, confused, “...you mean it’s too late?”
Taking a deep breath, Cordelia composed herself as Angel led her to a seat. “Yeah,” she said a little bothered by that news herself, “...but the guy who did it is still out there. He’ll hit again.”
“Guy?” Gunn mused, “...as in a human?”
“Not exactly,” Cordy suggested, sorting through the information flooded into her brain by the vision, “...definitely something of the demon about him, but he doesn’t look it. He’s desperate...afraid.”
“He should be,” Angel said, determined. “Do you know where he is now?”
Cordelia shook her head. “Nuh-uh. This is weird...there must be some sort of clue at the diner...”
“I’m on it. Wes?”
Turning to the current leader of Angel Investigations, Angel waited for Wesley’s lead. It had taken some months for him to adjust to that notion. Fortunately, the former Watcher had proven up to the task.
“Gunn and I will check it out immediately,” he said decisively, “...the rest of you hold the fort.”
“Can I come?” Buffybot asked eagerly. She wasn’t exactly sure what was going on...though her files had a vague reference to a visionary ability Cordelia possessed, and her intuition generators were offering 88% odds that she had just witnessed it in action...but she was anxious to help out and prove herself to her new friends.
At least, she hoped they were her new friends.
Angel sniggered. “Don’t think we’ll need any robot help on this one, ‘Buffybot’. Me, Wes and Gunn have it covered.”
Buffybot looked glum at the rejection, while Wesley elaborated. “Actually, I thought Gunn and I would handle it ourselves, Angel.”
“What..?” Angel flashed back to Wesley, concern apparent. “...can’t I come?”
Wesley stared at the vampire. “Angel, it’s 5:30 in the afternoon. It’s broad daylight.”
Glancing over to the sunlight streaming in the glass doors to the atrium, Angel saw the logic in Wesley’s argument. “Right,” he said, embarrassed, “...well...maybe I could...”
“Gunn and I will take care of it,” Wes repeated, gathering up a coat, “...we’ll report back as soon as we know anything. You can stay here,”
A sly smile crossed Wesley’s face. “...and let our new guest fill you in.”
Looking back, Angel saw Buffybot flashing him a broad smile. The last of the good mood he’d been in ten minutes earlier evaporated, and he slumped wearily.
“Terrific.”
Gunn and Wesley headed for the main doors, Wes pausing at the last. “Anything else you can tell us, Cordelia? Anything we should expect?”
Nursing her head, Cordelia nodded slowly. “Blood,” she said darkly, “...LOTS of blood.”

“Picture still down?”
In a cluttered room at the LA offices of Wolfram and Hart, Gavin Park leaned over a tv screen filled with snow. A technician was playing with various knobs and dials to his side.
“Audio too. Went out a few minutes ago,” the tech said, annoyed. “...some blonde girl walked in, then...pffft. We really should go back in and shore them up a little.”
“Too risky,” Park said, referring to the surreptitious surveillance bugs he’d secretly had installed at the Hyperion Hotel weeks earlier (which Buffybot had erroneously assumed to be private security cameras). “They’d suspect something for sure if we came back a second time. We’ll have to make do.”
The tech sniffled, and went back to flipping switches. Gavin raised an eyebrow.
“What blonde girl...?”
“Hnn? Oh, that...not sure. Young, pretty, leather jacket, skirt...sorta fits the description of Buffy Summers...”
“The Slayer?” Gavin asked, intrigued, “...isn’t she in Sunnydale?”
“Hard to say,” the tech replied, “...our intel out of that town’s been sketchy since our last contact got turned by a vamp. Refused to renegotiate his contract after that.”
“She and Angel have a history,” Gavin noted, understating the situation, “...she’d make for an interesting addition to the mix. Keep at it...let me know when picture comes back up.”
“Mm.”
Gavin turned and exited the surveillance room, heading back to his office. As he walked he smiled at himself, pleased with the progress he was making. A/V glitches aside, his initiative was starting to chip away at Lilah Morgan’s power, little by little. At this rate, she’d be working for him inside a month. Now if only they could keep the damn cameras working...

Wesley peered past the police ‘do not cross’ tape line into Mae’s Café, eyeing it carefully. Something was wrong, and it was readily apparent what that something was, and not just that Cordelia’s vision had come too late for them to help this time.
He waited, staring at the scene until Gunn rejoined him. When he arrived, Wes told him his concern. Gunn was, as he expected, on the same tack.
“There’s no blood,” Wesley stated, “...none that I can see anywhere, at least.”
“Yup,” Gunn agreed, “...not exactly the ‘lots’ Cordy’s vision told us about, is it? Got some news.”
“What did you learn?”
Wesley turned, awaiting Gunn’s report. The younger man grinned cooly. “We got three bodies,” he began, “...waitress, two cooks. One survivor...some old fella, managed to run before whatever it was did this could catch him.”
“Did he offer a description of our perpetrator?” Wesley asked, hopeful. Gunn shook his head, but still grinning.
“Nothing specific...white, short hair, clean, that’s about all he got. But get this...he told the cops that, when he started running? It was cause the whole place was...wait for it...drenched in blood.”
That caught Wes’ attention. “Really? That would fit Cordy’s vision, all right. But then..?”
“I know,” Gunn finished, “...where’s the big ol’ bloodstains on the windows and floors? Cops think he’s nuts. Which, given the circumstance, sound theory. UNTIL you talk to the coroner.”
Wesley smiled. “Which you did..?”
“Which I did,” he answered with satisfaction, “...and according to THEM, the three bodies were totally dry. No blood. Looked as if it’d burst right out of their veins...like, all over burst.”
“Doesn’t sound like a vampire...”
“Especially not in the LA afternoon, when this went down. Which leaves us with a bit of a problem, don’t it?”
“Indeed,” Wesley agreed, looking back at the café, his mind already wandering into memorized reams of demonology and dark magic, “...some sort of demonic entity, then, that drains it’s victims of blood, utterly, without leaving a drop...human in appearance. But NOT a vampire.”
Gunn stepped in closer. “That ring any bells?”
“Not precisely,” Wes admitted, “...but it’s a place to start. We should get back, hit the books.”
“Oh joy. Maybe you could get our new houseguest to help out with that...probably one hell of a speed-reader.”
“Oh yes,” Wesley said, his attention shifting once again, “...I’d almost forgotten. Tell me again about this...’Buffy-Bot’. What do you suppose brings her here?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Gunn answered as best he could. “Couldn’t say. Just met her..it...whatever...the one time. Smiles a lot, good uppercut. Maybe now the real deal’s back, the Sunnydale crew thought we could use a Buffy of our very own too?”
“It’s possible,” Wesley mused, “...and I admit, a demon-fighting robot COULD come in handy in our line of work. I just hope Angel’s dealing with her presence.”
“Man did seem freaked,” Gunn noted, wondering whether he would have told the vampire about the robot, even if he hadn’t forgotten, “...mechanical spittin’ image of your formerly dead true love walkin’ around? Gotta mess with your head...even a dead head like Angel’s.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll adjust,” Wesley said, turning back towards the car, “...I mean, after all...she’s just a robot.”

“So...are you sayin’ you’re...alive?”
Buffybot nodded rapidly in response to Fred’s wide-eyed query, coming at the end of a rather lengthy summation of the ‘Bot’s existence thus far. She’d glossed over a fair few points...it was a little disturbing to Botty how good she was getting at that...but all in all it was a pretty accurate retelling.
“Well, now...that’s just about the darnedest story I ever heard,” Roger Burkle said, speaking for pretty much everyone within earshot, “...but I suppose it’s not much crazier than demons, and vampires and all that.”
Leaning off to one side, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, Angel chuckled scornfully. “It’s a LITTLE crazier...I mean, come on now!”
“I think it’s amazing!” Fred enthused, propping her head up on her forearms as she stared intently at Buffybot. “A real-live robot, sittin’ across the table from me! It’s like Santa got my letter after all...just, y’know, twenty five years late.”
Cordelia giggled, while Angel shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not THAT impressive...”
“Sure it is!” Fred countered, smiling wide enough to give Buffybot a fair run for her money as she continued staring, “...golly, wouldn’t I love to just...get inside you and poke around a spell!”
Buffybot blinked a few times, wondering what the polite response to that would be. Meanwhile, several curious glares were cast in Fred’s direction. The slender Texan seemed to shrink under the attention.
“Scientific poking,” she quickly specified, reddening, “...not...not bad poking...”
“You sure you ain’t been in Los Angeles too long?” Roger asked, eyeing his daughter carefully. To Fred’s relief, Cordelia stepped up and drew the spotlight off of her.
“I just can’t believe Willow did all that,” she noted distastefully, “...I mean, she used to be all sweetness and wimpery, now she’s raising the dead and making deals with hellmouths? Remind me to put her at the top of my ‘do not piss off’ list.”
“Willow did what she had to do,” Angel suddenly added, leaning forward, “...she brought Buffy back. That’s what’s important, not what she had to do to pull it off.”
Angel fixed Cordelia with an emphatic stare, one she returned with equal force. Buffybot hoped she hadn’t misspoken.
“He’s right,” she said, drawing everyone’s attention back to her, “...Willow didn’t do anything wrong! She’s a great witch! She brought the real Buffy back, and now I’M back too, so everything is fine!”
The robot cast a winning smile over the counter, one that faded after a few seconds of internal thought. “Except...”
“Except that none of your friends in Sunnydale remember you now,” Fred said softly, finishing Buffybot’s sentence for her. She looked sadly at the robot, who suddenly got nervous.
“You won’t tell them, will you?” She asked, glancing all around earnestly, “...about me? I...I don’t want them to know I’m here.”
“Oh, of course not!” Fred replied, “...will we?”
Fred glanced about, and Cordelia made a supportive face. “Hey, it’s not like they call US with hot tips all the time...like, say, about renegade, coma-free slayers or school buddies turned vampire. I’m down with the lip sealing.”
Across the counter, Angel shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he muttered, glancing up at Buffybot, who was eyeing him anxiously. “A lot of this sounds pretty fishy to me.”
“But..!” Buffybot tried to think of something to say, but wasn’t sure what else there was TO say. She was starting to wonder if Angel just didn’t like her for some reason.
“Now, don’t worry, you poor thing,” Trish piped in, reaching a comforting hand over and patting Buffybot’s shoulder, “...none of us will say a word.”
“Trish...”
“Her secret’s safe with us,” Trish reiterated, fixing Angel with a stern glare, “...I know an honest face when I see one.”
“But she’s a..!”
Angel tried to mount an argument, but Trish Burkle’s glare only increased in intensity. He sank quickly back down in defeat.
“...Yes, Ma’am.”
Grinning mildly at Angel’s remonstration, Cordelia nonetheless tried to move things along. “Robots and witches aside, we still have my vision to worry about. Why would the Powers send me a near miss?”
“Wes and Gunn might know something when they get back,” Angel noted, glad to have the subject changed, “...and you said, the guy who did this is still out there. We worry about the ones we can still save.”
Buffybot perked up. This was more like it! Demons to battle, good to do. “I could go on patrol,” she suggested cheerily, “...maybe I could root out the evildoer!”
There was a moment of silence, before Cordelia spoke up. “Hey, all for the demon-hunting enthusiasm there, robogal, but...LA? Little bigger than Sunnydale. In fact, I think this hotel might be bigger than Sunnydale.”
Buffybot consulted her geographical assessment programs. “Oh no,” she noted with confidence, “...even in a quick comparative study, the square footage of this Hotel would be nowhere NEAR...”
“Point being..!” Cordy interjected, cutting off the bot’s over-analysis of her comment, “...a foot patrol in Los Angeles would take you a few weeks more than we can spare. And don’t go telling me EXACTLY how long it would take you, either.”
Buffybot shut her mouth, having been just about to do precisely that. She wasn’t sure if she was making a good first impression here or not.
Although Fred seemed to like her! And that was nice.

Owen pulled his car into an alley, slamming to a stop as the pain hit him again. So soon?
It was burning up, faster and faster. He knew it, he felt it. It seemed like no matter how much he took, it wasn’t enough to stop what was happening. It had to be enough...Owen didn’t think he could do this any...
“AAAAAuuu...oh, God!”
Owen doubled over in his seat, clutching hard at the seat and steering wheel until the pain subsided. For the moment. It would be back, he knew. Soon. He would have to do it again. There was no other choice...he had to do what he needed. To survive.
He heard voices, passersby along the street, and he froze. Listening to their laughter, their footsteps. They would do the same, in his shoes. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t evil. It was survival.

“Oooh! Here’s something!”
Flipping though one of several books that Wesley had passed around after returning with Gunn, Buffybot stopped when one of the entries resonated in her active case file. She hopped with pride at her discovery, and Wesley made his way over to where she stood, flipping rapidly through a massive, weathered text. She hoped he would be happy at what she’d found...it had taken her a while to realize that Wesley, not Angel, was the boss. That had made her smile. Wesley seemed MUCH nicer than Angel to her.
Adjusting his glasses, Wesley peered over Buffybot’s shoulder at the page that had caught her tactical sensor’s attention. “Bathlorien Blood Demon,” he muttered, trying to recall what he knew of said beast, “...parasite in nature. Feeds off the blood of living humans, uses it to replenish it’s form.”
“Sounds like our bloodsucker, all right,” Cordelia noted, rising from her chair. Wesley took the book out of Buffybot’s hands.
“Sounds, but doesn’t look,” he carried on, turning the book for the others to see the picture accompanying the entry. The illustration depicted something more globular than anything.
“Looks more like a jello mold,” Fred mused, closing in. Wesley nodded in vague agreement.
“Traditionally, the Bathlorien is an amorphous creature...no humanoid appearances whatsoever.”
Buffybot frowned at what seemed to be a rejection of her discovery. Cordy rolled her eyes.
“Well, back to the incredibly dusty and old drawing boards,” she said with disdain, until a glimmer of recognition flashed in Wesley’s eyes.
“Maybe...” he muttered, losing himself momentarily in the book in his hands. Angel noticed, approaching with interest.
“Wes?”
“Hmm?” Wesley wrenched his eyes off the volume into his friend’s questioning gaze. “Oh...it may be nothing. Still, I get the feeling I’ve read something about this creature...there may be something in some of the scrolls I have in storage.”
“Find them,” Angel said, “...meanwhile, the sun’s gone down. I’m hitting the streets, rattle a few cages, see if I can find this thing before it gets hungry again.”
“Good idea,” Wesley agreed, prompting another frown from Buffybot. No one had thought patrolling was a good idea when SHE’D suggested it.
“I’ll go with you,” Gunn offered, jumping to his feet, “...all this book-dust is making me a little queasy.”
“Go,” Wesley said, “...we’ll keep in touch if we find anything. Fred? Perhaps you could man the police scanner...maybe we’ll hear something of our quarry’s latest escapades.”
“I’m on it!” Fred declared with vigour. Before she could dash into action, however, Buffybot stepped eagerly forward.
“I can monitor police transmissions on my internal scanners!” She declared with an ingratiating smile. Wesley looked intrigued.
“Really?” Botty nodded, and Wes thought for a moment before looking towards Angel, who was poised at the door.
“Angel, you and Gunn should take her with you,” he suggested, “...that is, if you don’t mind?”
Angel glared uncomfortably. “Well, actually, I kind of...”
“I was asking her,” Wesley clarified, turning towards Buffybot. “Would that be all right?”
“Oh yes!” Buffybot said with a smile that nearly burst off her face, “...I’m happy to help! I won’t let you down, Wesley!”
Bolting past Wesley, Buffybot dashed for the door, internal program monitors flashing through slaying scenarios and combat tactics. She was fighting demons again! Slaying...being Buffybot! This, she decided with certainty, was MUCH better.
“Come on, mister Gunn,” she shouted as she darted past Angel and Gunn and out the door, “...evil is afoot!”
Gunn shrugged and followed the excitable android out the door. Angel stared after them, looking thunderstruck, before turning and gaping back at Wesley.
“...in my CAR?”

Twenty minutes later, three heroic figures sped through the Los Angeles evening in a black convertible, searching the streets for danger. Three champions, united in their quest for justice, safeguarding the night.
Only two of them were enjoying themselves.
“No kidding?” Gunn asked, shifting about in his seat to face the back as best he could manage, “...that big? So what’d you do?”
“Well,” Buffybot replied, excited to have someone take interest in her like this, “...the whole forest was depending on me, and Arra was being very blustery, making nasty threats about making a necklace of my bones, because she didn’t know that I didn’t HAVE any bones, so I told her I didn’t really want to talk to her, and could we just get on with fighting?”
“Yeah? Ha!” Gunn laughed, slapping the seat loudly. “I like that...didn’t even give her a chance to do the bad-guy speech, huh?”
Smiling, Buffybot shook her head. “I never like that speech,” she admitted.
“Man, I HATE the bad-guy speech,” Gunn said, agreeing wholeheartedly, “...always get so damned cocky on you, like you got nothin’ better to do than listen to whatever stupid-ass threats they’ve been practicing in the mirror?”
Buffybot giggled. Mister Gunn sure was fun! Even if he did have kind of a pottymouth on him. She’d talk to him about that later, though. There was work to be done right now.
“Trying to drive here, guys,” Angel moaned, trying hard to affect indifference to the conversation occurring around him, “...tracking a blood demon, remember?”
“I remember,” Buffybot said quickly, “...I’m maintaining constant surveillance on all police and emergency channels, and running them through a special monitoring filter I’ve set up to catch anything that might be a reference to the demon in question...”
“Well, look harder!” Angel shouted, slamming the car around a corner, “...the Powers sent Cordy that vision for a reason, understand? We’re here to save lives, not tell unicorn stories.”
“I...” Buffybot started, but quickly backed down when she noticed her emotional generators trying to kick in. She suppressed them as quickly as she was able and settled back down.
“I’m only trying to help, Angel,” she said quietly, as she began more actively scanning the transmissions through her reception hardware. Gunn gave the vampire a cool stare.
“Angel, chill out, man...why’re you wound so tight?”
“It’s nothing! It’s...”
Taking a moment, Angel slowly loosened his killer grip on the steering wheel, letting out an unnecessary deep breath. He took a glance in the rear-view mirror, seeing what looked to his eyes like an extremely glum Buffy. Despite himself, he couldn’t divert the guilt that followed.
“Listen,”. He said loudly, talking to Buffybot, “...I’m...”
“I’m getting something!”
Angel snapped out of his previous train of thought. “What?”
“An emergency call,” Buffybot continued, “...put in through 911 and now being sent out to patrol calls in the vicinity. A witness described ‘people dying, and blood...blood everywhere’”
“Where everywhere?” Gunn asked, looking back intently. Botty listened to what the others couldn’t hear a moment longer, then looked back.
“Helsinki Lounge,” she answered crisply, “...755 Triumph.”
“I know it,” Angel said, hitting the accelerator and tearing down the street with a vengeance. Buffybot wondered if she should point out that he was speeding, but decided against it.
“Well,” Gunn said, still looking back at Buffybot, “...hope you like clubbin’.”

Thanks to all the cars along the road, Angel had to pull to a stop almost a block away from the Helsinki Lounge, a fairly isolated nightspot in it’s area. Angel leapt out of the car as soon as it stopped moving, and Gunn followed. Buffybot started making her way out also when Angel turned and blocked her. “No,” he ordered, slightly avoiding eye contact with the robot, “...you stay here.”
Buffybot looked deeply confused. “Here? But...the super-villain is in THERE , isn’t he?”
She pointed past Angel to the club, and he spared a moment to look before turning back to her.
“Right...’super villain’, yeah. Here’s hoping! But we need you to stay here as...as backup!”
Buffybot blinked. “Backup?”
“Oh, yeah!” Angel leaned back, looking very much as if that were an impressive station indeed. “Make sure the ‘super-villain’ doesn’t get by us. Very important part of the team, the backup. You just...sit tight. We’ll call if we need you. Okay?”
Sitting back down, Buffybot crossed her arms over her lap. “Okay,” she said, with just a hint of reservation slipping into her vocal processors, “...if that’s what you think would be best.”
Angel smiled, giving Buffybot a clearly overembellished thumbs-up, before turning and darting down the street to where Gunn was already waiting at the club entrance, axe in hand. He gave Angel a sideways look.
“Backup? That’s just cold.”
“Let’s deal with Cordy’s vision, all right?” Angel asked, turning serious, “...THEN I’ll deal with...whatever she is.”
“Your call, man. You wanna lead?”
“You know me so well,” Angel noted, rearing back and kicking the door in hard. A moment later, both he and Gunn had vanished inside. From her lonely perch in the back of Angels’ convertible, Buffybot just sat silently scanning.
“I don’t think Angel likes me very much,” she said aloud. Beside her, a figure shimmered into appearance, eyeing her with concern.
“What makes ya say that?” Doyle asked, taking in his surroundings. Buffybot rechecked her interaction files with Angel thus far.
“He’s very abrupt with me,” she noted “...he avoids eye contact. And he shouts.”
“Well, what you gotta understand is, those are very inconclusive signals when dealin’ with the A-Man,” Doyle pointed out, “...that may be how he expresses genuine affection. Hey, are we on a stakeout?”
Doyle grinned, peering about. Buffybot confirmed his suspicions. “Angel and Gunn are in a club, looking for a demon.” She added with a frown, “...Angel made me backup.”
“Really?” Doyle winced slightly. “Okay, that could be a bad sign...but remember, you are wearin’ the face of his true love.”
“But isn’t that a GOOD thing?” Buffybot asked, “...Angel liked Buffy, I LOOK like Buffy...”
“Sound logic, doll,” Doyle half-agreed, “...but we’re talking about emotions here. And you’ve no doubt noticed how they have a way of, well, leadin’ us astray from time to time.”
Immediately, Buffybot lowered her head. “Yes.” she said simply. Doyle heard the tone of her mechanical voice, and quickly regretted his comment.
“He’ll come around,” he consoled, “...just give the lunk a little time. You’ll charm ‘im.”
Buffybot nodded, but didn’t answer out loud. Instead, she diverted a little more power to her emotional buffers, monitoring her output closely.

Angel and Gunn ran in and down the stairs of the Helsinki nightclub, passing the ruptured, blood-drained corpses of the coat-check girl and doorman along the way. Neither said anything, strongly suspecting the body count would only get worse as they progressed. They were right.
Walking into the main bar, they quickly spotted more than a dozen ruined bodies scattered about. This time there was plenty of blood in evidence, though nowhere near as much as one might expect from so high a body count. Angel took point, making his way through the room as Gunn did a slower scan of the area. He was busy trying to keep his revulsion to a minimum when his heart nearly jumped out of his mouth, at the sight of one of the bodies moving. There was a low moan, and Angel turned.
“Angel!” Gunn shouted, running to where the lone figure was struggling to rise, “...survivor!”
Gunn helped the groggy man to his feet as Angel stood by, watching anxiously.
“You all right man?” Gunn asked, trying to rouse the dazed man. He was spattered all over with blood, and seemed quite out of it. “You hurt?”
“What..?” He asked, giving his head a small shake. Suddenly he stared forward at Gunn an Angel as if he hadn’t noticed them before. “Who...who are you?”
“It’s okay,” Angel said, taking a step forward, “...we’re investigators. We’re here to stop whatever did this. Did you see it?”
“See it?” The man repeated blankly, giving Angel a particularly odd stare. Gunn tried to help him steady himself.
“It mighta looked human,” he pointed out, “...or possibly like a jello mold. We’re still working out the details. But don’t worry, you’re safe now. We take care of things like this all the time.”
The man just stared, and Gunn gave Angel a frustrated look.
“Get him up to the street,” Angel ordered, “...tell...what’s her name, in the car, to make sure he stays safe until the paramedics arrive.”
“I’ll be right back,” Gunn said as he led the man across the club to the stairs. Angel turned back towards the further recesses of the club, on his guard. He was hoping the demon hadn’t gotten too far yet...they may have interrupted him if someone survived.
Halfway up the stairs, Gunn patted the dazed man on the back, pulling something out of his jacket pocket and handing it to him.
“This is our card,” he told him, “...in case we miss this thing here, we may want to ask you some questions. You know, size, shape, colour, that sorta thing.”
The man looked intently at the card. “Angel Investigations...”
“That’s us,” Gunn replied proudly, “...help the helpless, slice the sliceable nasties into little demon-chunks. Go, get to the street. Cops’ll be by soon.”
“Yes,” the man said, nodding, “...thank you. Thank you very much.”
“It’s the job, man,” Gun said, turning back down the stairs. He stopped after about six steps and looked back.
“Hey, you didn’t happen to see which way this thing went, did you? Save us a little...”
Gunn paused, noticing that one of the larger spatters of blood on the man’s face...the white, short-haired man, he was now noticing...was getting smaller and smaller. Like it was being drawn directly into his skin. Owen glared menacingly at Gunn, who was getting that sinking feeling he felt all too often of late.
“...and, you’re the demon, aren’t you?” Gunn cursed himself. “Man, I HATE it when we do that!”
Gunn rushed forward, wishing that he hadn’t set his axe down at the bottom of the stairs. He let loose with his best roundhouse, but his arm jerked to a stop before the swing connected. In front of him, Owen laughed humourlessly, furrowing his brow. A strained, churning feeling started building up inside of Charles Gunn, and he found himself unable to move of his own will. His blood felt like it was suddenly on fire.
“AAHH!” Gunn gritted his teeth as his feet lifted off the stairs, and he seemed to hang in mid-air. Owen continued to glare at him, the last of the blood on him swirling and vanishing from sight.
“Gunn!”
Angel made it a few steps onto the staircase when he forced himself to stop, noting the precarious position his co-worker was in. He looked up at Owen, who stared intently down.
“Let him go!” Angel demanded, straining to hold himself back. Gunn tried to swivel his head to see Angel, but couldn’t manage it.
“You’re not human,” Owen said with disdain.
“That’s the demon calling the vampire black,” Angel replied without moving a muscle, trying to catch any sign of weakness in his opponent, “...now let him go!”
“I’m not a demon!” Owen shouted, growing angry. Gunn let out a small groan as he wrenched painfully. “...I’m human now! I just want to be human!”
“Don’t think that’s up to you, exactly,” Angel said, taking a cautious step up one stair, “...maybe if you let the nice man down, we can talk about...”
“I won’t let you kill me!”
Owen roared, and with a thought, Gunn went flying down the stairwell, crashing into Angel and sending them both tumbling to the bottom. Angel did his best to roll with the impact and protect Gunn from any further harm. When he got to his feet and looked up, Owen was gone.

“I wish they would have let me come along,” Buffybot said idly, “...I want to help.”
Beside her, Doyle stretched his arms out. “Well, you gave’em the demon scoop on the cb, didn’t you? That’s helpin’! You’re a helper, trust me.”
“But I want to be part of the team!” she added, “...I want...”
“Friends.” Doyle finished her thought for her. Buffybot smiled ever so slightly, glad that someone seemed to understand. She was starting to like Mister Doyle a little more.
“It’ll happen, kid. Just...be yourself.”
What if I don’t know who myself is, Buffybot thought. That seemed like a strange thought to have, however, so she didn’t say it out loud. Instead she took note of the man running out of the Helsinki nightclub up ahead. She did a quick scan as he dashed across the street.
“Human,” she noted aloud, “...Angel and Gunn must have saved him from the demon. That’s good!”
“He’s good at that,” Doyle said, “...maybe your demon’s down there, then.”
“I almost hope he gets out,” Buffybot said with enthusiasm, “...then I can show Angel what I can do. No demon’s going to get past ME!”

“...Just let him walk RIGHT past you!”
“I said I was sorry!”
Angel helped Gunn into the lobby, followed by a decidedly humbled Buffybot. Although, humility aside, she thought Angel was being more than a little heavy-handed with the blaming.
“Charles!”
Fred got up from her research and ran over, taking Gunn from Angel with care. The others soon followed.
“What happened?” Wesley asked, setting down a box of scrolls and papers he’d just brought up from storage. Cordelia echoed his concern.
“Did you get it?” she asked. Angel pointed demonstratively at Buffybot.
“She let it get away!” he said accusingly. Buffybot looked shocked.
“I didn’t MEAN to...and YOU let him get away first!”
“Did not!”
“Did so!”
“Children!”
Wesley’s shout temporarily silenced the bickering, and he took a deep breath. “Tell us what happened...did you encounter the demon?”
“It was at a nightclub,” Angel explained, stepping forward. To his annoyance, Buffybot matched his step.
“I found the nightclub,” she pointed out, giving Angel a quick sideways glare, “...it was on a police bulletin I picked up!”
“ANYWAYS,” Angel continued, exasperated, “...the thing seemed to have been feeding on the people there, absorbing their blood. We tussled with it. Looked human...said it WAS human, not a demon anymore...real prickly point, it seemed like.”
“Got some mojo to it, too,” Gunn added as Fred helped him sit down, “...jedi powers or something, threw me at Angel just by lookin’ at me.”
“Telekinetic ability? That’s new,” Wesley conceded, “...I wonder if we’re on the wrong track somehow.”
Wes leaned down to rifle through his scrolls, and Roger and Trish joined Fred in fussing over Gunn. Cordelia walked over towards Angel.
“So the rival bloodsucker made his getaway, huh?” She tried to be consoling, but Angel continued to fume.
“Well, he got past Gunn and me. Lucky thing I had...”
Angel paused, turning his head and glaring at Botty. “...Backup.”
“I didn’t KNOW!” she protested, “...he seemed human!”
“Well, don’t you have...I don’t know, demon-scanners or something in there?”
“I scanned him,” Buffybot pointed out defensively, “...he registered as human!”
Angel chuckled derisively. “Pfft. Nice scanners. Might wanna see if Radio Shack will give you your money back.”
“Angel,” Fred chided, looking away from Gunn for the moment, “...stop it. You’ll hurt her feelings!”
Buffybot perked up at that, glad to have someone on her side. It only lasted a moment, though.
“It’s just a robot, Fred,” Angel replied, almost patronizing, “...it doesn’t have ‘feelings’.”
A frightened look suddenly sprang up on Buffybot’s face. She took a few steps back, away from Angel and the others. She stared at Angel with wide eyes, until a second later she turned and bolted, running through the main doors and out of the hotel. Angel watched her go, wondering what she had...
“OW!”
Angel let out the cry involuntarily, after Cordelia smacked him upside the head. He looked at her in surprise.
“What was THAT for?”
“Just for being you,” she told him flatly, “...which I sometimes wish you would do a little less of.”
Angel rubbed his head. “What..?”
“She’s not Buffy,” Cordy explained, “...and she isn’t trying to BE Buffy. Okay, she looks like her, which I get, that’s hard for you. It’s weird for me too. But she isn’t Buffy...I don’t know what the hell she is, frankly.”
Angel stared back at Cordelia, feeling his frustration turning slowly into something else. Her face softened as she spoke.
“I don’t think she knows what she is either,” she told him with a piercing look, “...and she needs our help to find out.”
Angel stammered for a moment, looking lost. “I...”
“The lady’s saying you’re being a jackass, son,” Roger shouted over, earning a welcome smile from Cordelia.
“Finally,” she said with a sigh,”...a man who understands me.”
Angel looked at Cordy, then at the stares of the others in the room. He rolled his eyes and started to head for the door.
“I’ll get her back,” he said wearily, shuffling out of the hotel. As the door fell shut behind him, Cordelia grinned with pleasant satisfaction.
“I think we’ve made a breakthrough,” she said. Behind her, Wesley laid a scroll out on the countertop.
“More than one,” he added, speed-reading the translations on the cracked page. Cordy and Fred moved closer.
“You’ve got something?” Cordelia asked, and Wesley nodded.
“An account of a Bathlorien from an ancient Watcher,” he noted, “...I think I know what’s happening with the one we’ve got on our hands.”
“But...you said the Bathlorien wasn’t human in appearance,” Fred pointed out, “...Gunn and Angel saw this thing. Very human.”
“True,” Wesley agreed, “...in it’s native form, the Bathlorien is more globular than anything. But THIS scroll tells of a Bathlorien taking possession of a human host. Extremely rare for their species, but possible.”
“You think we’ve got a body snatcher on our hands?” Gunn asked, leaning forward tenderly. Wesley looked up from the scroll.
“The information in the scroll mirrors what we’ve seen thus far,” he explained., “...once inside the human host, the demon becomes one with it...merges. It assumes the identity, the emotions of the human. It’s powers increase, as well. That telekinetic activity you experienced, Gunn, was the demon literally controlling the blood in your veins.”
“Okay, that’s gruesome,” Gunn had to admit, “...that why it didn’t put the whammy on Angel?”
“The Bathlorien thrives on the living blood of humans,” Wesley said, “...nothing else will do. The pig’s blood that Angel ingests would be useless to it.”
“Okay,” Cordelia interrupted, “...so we know what it is. But why the massive kill-frenzy? And how do we stop it?”
“The demon subsides on relatively infrequent doses of human hemoglobin,” Wesley said, reading off the scroll again, “...until it enters it’s death-cycle. Then it can stave off the end by ingesting massive quantities...exponentially increasing quantities, in fact.”
“It can never get enough,” Fred summarized, chilled, “...it’ll just keep killing and killing.”
Wes nodded grimly. “Under normal circumstances, the Bathlorien accepts death as a natural part of it’s cycle. Almost like clockwork.”
“But if it’s bonded with a human host,” Cordelia mused aloud. Wes finished her thought for her.
“It’s absorbed human emotions as well. This demon is well into it’s natural death cycle...but it’s afraid to die.”
Before anyone could respond to that information, the front door swung open. Wesley turned, not recognizing the fellow who stepped inside, clutching at his stomach. Gunn, however, did. He forgot his own pain and jumped to his feet.
Owen forced a smile, dropping a small paper object by his feet.
“Thanks for the card,” he said, grinning.

“He HATES me!”
Buffybot marched quickly away from the Hyperion Hotel, arms straight by her sides. Doyle kept pace, trying to calm her down.
“Easy, gal, easy...I’m sure it wasn’t THAT bad.”
“He called me an it!” she continued, “...he said I was ‘just a robot’...I HATE that! He was so mean, and...”
“Listen, the thing you gotta understand about Angel..?” Doyle swung about in front of Buffybot, and she stopped. “He’s extremely stupid. That big, thick brow he’s got..?”
Doyle pointed to his own forehead and Buffybot listened, frowning.
“That’s padding,” he explained, “...prevents any useful information from creepin’ into that grumpy lump he calls a brain.”
“Why would Buffy like him?” Buffybot asked, honestly not understanding, “...why would ANYONE?”
“Well...” Doyle paused again, trying to think of something to say in Angel’s defense. He was having trouble.
“...Okay, I suppose he IS a bit of an acquired taste...”
“But why did he have to say those things?” Buffybot demanded, trying to manage massive internal traffic, “...those were the things that...”
Buffybot stopped herself, taking a moment for a massive shunt of emotional information. She was trying not to feel things...she was trying very, very much! But it was so hard...
“Those are the things that Dawn said to me,” she finally said, a glum frown falling on her face, “...I can’t let something like that happen again. I just can’t.”
Doyle looked on his charge with sympathy. “I know it’s hard for you,” he told her, “...probably harder than I can imagine. There’s never been anything like you before. But that’s the thing...it’s gonna take some people a little time to get used to you. But they will...they’re good people, Buffybot. Give ‘em another chance.”
Buffybot stayed silent for a moment, getting proper processor control over her emotional generators at long last. She glanced up at Doyle hopefully.
“You really think they’ll get used to me?” she asked, “...even Angel?”
Doyle smiled. “Even a brick-skulled vampire like Angel,” he told her, “..after all, he took to me, didn’t he? Man must have SOME taste.”
A small giggle escaped Buffybot’s vocal emitters. Doyle silently thanked the Powers for progress.
“Come on,” he said, motioning for Buffybot to follow as he turned back in the direction of the Hotel, “...I’ll bet they’re out lookin’ for ya right now!”

In the opposite direction, Angel drove slowly along in his car, glancing hopelessly from side to side. He looked deep in thought.
“Okay...if I were a robot, where would I go..?”

“Fred, GO!” Gunn shouted, stepping in front of her as Owen glared at everyone in the room, “...Get outta here!”
“I’m trying’” Fred replied, a hint of struggle in her voice, “...I-I can’t move!”
“Seems...to be going around,” Wes added, feeling the blood in his veins start to work against him.
Slowly, each of them felt the same thing as they were hoisted several feet up in the air. Stepping further in to the lobby, Owen breathed deeply.
“You people...you were going to kill me, weren’t you? What RIGHT do you have? I’m only doing what I have to do to survive!”
“We may have been a little hasty,” Cordelia improvised, flashing the best smile she could force, “...you seem like a very nice, level-headed demon to me!”
“I’m not a demon!” Owen shouted, and everyone in the room winced sharply as they felt the blood in their veins take another tug. “I’m human! I’ve been human for ten years now! Owen Rogers, 1633 Rivergreen Place, San Pedro. I had a wife, two beautiful kids...I had a life!”
Gunn gritted his teeth. “Cue the bad guy speech,” he muttered.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Owen continued, looking genuinely pained now, “...I didn’t want to...it was just too strong, the hunger...there was nothing I could do!”
“You Californians,” Roger noted with distaste, “...nothing’s EVER your fault, is it?”
Fred struggled to look his way. “Daddy, don’t taunt the demon while we’re at it’s mercy, please.”
Trish gave Roger an emphatic look that agreed with her daughter’s admonishment. Gunn glanced at Wesley.
“You got anything?”
Wes’s eyes momentarily brightened. “I DO have a plan, actually...”
A hopeful glimmer shone in Gunn’s face. “No time like the present...give it up!”
“...unfortunately, it involves Angel bursting through those doors and saving us all,” Wesley finished. Gunn’s hope fell flat.
“Oh, THAT plan again?” Cordy noted sharply, “...we need better plans! Seriously!”
A groan came out of Owen, then, and he glared sternly at his floating prey. A wave of sharp pain hit all of them, and they felt their blood straining against their veins, trying to escape.
“I can’t die!” He shouted desperately. A second later, the main doors behind him burst open, and a lone figure ran in, tackling him hard from behind. His concentration momentarily broken, Owen’s would-be victims jerked a few inches downward.
“Damn,” Gunn said, testing to see how much he could move yet, “...good plan, Wes!”
“I think someone’s altered it a little,” Fred noted, looking down. Owen rose quickly to his feet, and found Buffybot staring him down.
“You let them go!” She ordered, assuming a ready-attack stance. Owen stared hard at her, and a look of surprise came over him.
“What are you?” He asked, having tried and failed to use his blood magic on his new enemy, “...another vampire?”
“Nope,” Buffybot replied, stepping crisply forward and hammering Owen with a right, “...I’m a robot.”
Owen staggered, and Buffybot gave him a left. She noted with interest that he was reading more like a demon now in her scans...maybe it only manifested strongly when he hadn’t just fed?
“A robot..?” Owen looked confused as he threw a fast punch at Buffybot’s head. She deflected it at the last moment, catching his arm.
“Mmm hmmm,” she agreed cheerily, pulling him forward and head-butting him, “...but I’m not ‘JUST’ a robot. So don’t say that!”
Owen stumbled backwards, running up against a pillar. Buffybot was on him, pinning him fast. He looked weak now.
“What could you know,” he accused, sadness in his voice, “...I didn’t want this. I didn’t know...they feel so much! These emotions...they make you do things, things you don’t want to...”
Buffybot relented in her attack sequence. A sudden image appeared in her active display, of the last demon she had fought.
“Terrible things...” she said quietly. She sent a command to her active processors to terminate this line of thinking immediately. She didn’t like thinking about...
Owen suddenly roared angrily, pushing Buffybot back, almost off balance. There was a feral gleam in his eye, which turned deep read as Botty looked into them. He made to attack, and Buffybot drove a powerful fist right at him. When it connected there was a loud explosion, and a scream, and Owen Rogers of Rivergreen Place burst like an overripe melon. A torrent of blood washed over Buffybot, soaking her in vivid crimson. Behind her, the others fell awkwardly back down to Earth, in varying stages of uncomfortability.
“Ow,” Gunn muttered, rising to a shaky stand, “...THERE was something I didn’t need to have happen twice in one day.”
“I agree,” Cordelia said, helping Trish up, “...don’t think I’ll be going on the remote-control blood coaster again anytime soon, I don’t care HOW short the line is.”
“Is everyone all right?” Wesley asked, dusting himself off after an awkward tumble off the counter. Everyone nodded affirmative...with one exception.
Across the lobby, the main doors flung open again, and everyone looked over to see Angel striding in. He looked frustrated.
“Look, I can’t find her, and I don’t know where a robot would even go, or if she can fly, or...”
Angel stopped, finally noticing the scene before him. Buffybot was here...and covered head to toe in blood. Human blood to be precise...
Angel turned serious fast. “What happened?”
“Our demon friend put in an appearance,” Wesley explained, setting his glasses straight, “...fortunately for us, so did the Buffybot.”
“She beat it,” Fred said, staring at the Bot just ever so slightly awestruck, “...popped it all...kerplooey.”
“Told you she was cool,” Gunn noted with a smile. Angel seemed more than a bit surprised.
“Uhh...wow. Okay. Is everyone..?”
“All good,” Cordelia finished, “...we’ve done that. Aside from the blood stains on the floor, I think we can call this one...”
“No,” Buffybot suddenly said, staring down at her hands and feet. She hadn’t moved at all since the demon burst. “...no, no, no, no, no...”
Heads turned, and Fred took a few cautious steps closer. Angel almost did the same, but was still trying to process.
“Is she...” he began, taking a closer look at Buffybot. Blood was staining every inch of her. “Are you all right?” He finally asked. There was no immediate answer.
“Buffybot?” Fred asked, stepping right up and peering around into Botty’s downturned face. She looked like she was concentrating very hard on something.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” she finally said, clenching her fists at her side, “...it was an accident. I didn’t...”
Buffybot glanced about at the faces staring at her. “I’m trying not to feel something,” she explained a little oddly, “...but it’s hard. I don’t understand some things, and...”
Fred’s concerned face caught her attention again, and she held her hands up, as if demonstrating something she had just found lying about.
“There’s blood,” she said plainly, “...I’m all covered in blood.”
“Oh...oh, Buffybot, it’s okay!” Fred fussed, grabbing one of Buffybot’s arms, heedless of the blood, and taking it in her own, “...we’ll getcha cleaned right up! Momma..?”
Trish was on her way even before Fred called for her. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” Trish said, helping her daughter lead the distraught robot away from the blood she was standing in, “...we’ll have you good as new in no time. Roger, why don’t you get upstairs and run a bath for this poor girl?”
Roger nodded, years of marital training kicking in as he headed up the stairs to fulfill his wife’s request.
“I’ll grab some extra towels,” Wesley added, heading for the supply closet. Gunn stared at the bloody footprints staining the lobby floor and sighed.
“I’ll get the mop.”
Cordelia turned and headed for the door, pausing beside Angel.
“I’m gonna swing by my place,” she said quietly, “...grab her a change of clothes. Kind of a thrill, actually...platonically speaking, I’ve always wanted to dress Buffy.”
“That’d be nice,” he told her, still watching the Buffybot, “...she really saved the day, huh?”
“Yup,” Cordy agreed, looking back. “And I’ve been thinking. About my vision? If I’d gotten it on time for the first attack, we’d be pretty much dead.”
Angel looked at Cordelia curiously. “Think about it! The only ones who could beat this guy were you, and little Susie Microchips over there. The first attack was in broad daylight, so you would have been out,”
“...and Buffybot hadn’t arrived yet,” Angel said, a dawning understanding taking hold. “Think the powers are trying to tell us something?”
Cordelia gave Angel a condescending look. “Think they pretty much always are,” she said with a smile, patting his shoulder as she carried on out the door. Angel thought for a second, then took a few quick steps into the lobby. Buffybot was at the stairs.
“Buffybot!” He yelled, and the robot stopped along with Fred and Trish. She looked back at Angel, looking awfully sad under all that blood.
“I just...” He began, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. Buffybot stared back at him with growing curiousity.
“I just wanted to say that...I mean, if you need a place to stay, then...”
Buffybot tilted her head, staring. Angel looked into her eyes, and realized he had been quite wrong. Whatever this was...she was definitely not just a robot.
“...we’ve got room.”
Angel gave Buffybot a small smile, and slowly but surely, she returned it with one ten times the size. “Thank you, Angel,” she said sincerely. Fred smiled warmly at Angel.
“We’d better get moving,” she said, “...we’re dripping kind of a lot.”
Angel waved the ladies on, and they headed up the stairs, vanishing around a corner before long. Angel stared upwards, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” he said to himself, “...this is gonna complicate my life.”

EPILOGUE
Cordoba, Argentina. Three heavily armed men work their way through a jungle thicket, watching a handheld electronic map closely as they go. Behind them, a trail of six dead bodies grows cold in the night. They’re very close.
At length, the group comes to a stop, and the lead man crouches down. Scraping away some brush, a small stone marker is uncovered. He eyes it calmly, then reaches into a pouch on his waist. From it he pulls a small pinch of golden dust and sprinkles it on the marker. He stands, steps back, and utters three words in a long-dead language. The air shimmers.
Before the eyes of the mercenaries, an ornate ivory sarcophagus materializes. It is adorned with intricate pictographs, telling the tale of it’s forgotten inhabitant. It is the final resting place of Ban Shoth, protector and demon champion of a thousand years past.
Summoning the others to his side, the lead man organizes his team on one side of the sarcophagus. Together they push the heavy lid off in one shove, shaking the ground where it falls. Inside, a sturdy humanoid skeleton rests peacefully, clutching a long wooden battle staff. On his head is a golden helm, simple in construction, and scarred from years of warring. The lead man reaches down and pulls the helm off with a quick yank. He studies it with growing satisfaction, then looks to his teammates.
“Make the call.”

Two minutes and several thousand miles later, Lara Markham grins from ear to ear as she terminates the call she’d just received, then hits one on her speed dial. She puts the phone to her ear and waits. Someone picks up after the first ring.
“Hey baby,” she says suggestively, sitting back in her sofa at home, “...just got a call. And guess what?”
Lara waits a moment, and the voice on the other end finally asks. She breathes out slowly.
“I’ve got number 97.”

ADDENDUM

The Bishop and Belcher is, in fact, a lovely Toronto bar in real life. Fine place for a pint.

Okay, let’s talk timeline. This episode takes place right at the tail end of FREDLESS. Which makes no sense on the surface, since Fredless clearly takes place right after Angel sees Buffy again, which is two episodes prior to ONCE MORE WITH FEELING. To make things work in MY favour, I’ve inserted a large gap of time between the final two scenes. Hence the reference to Fred’s parents and their sightseeing tour of the coast, which they have just returned from to help their daughter paint her room. It will help me SO much if you just nod politely and accept my mangling of history. Thank you very much.

Lara Markham, an original Buffybot Adventures character, is played with poise and relish by the lovely Morena Baccarin.

Buffybot battled the centaur queen Arra in THE SIEGE OF PHI NA PHEE.

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