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Sitting back with a contented smile, Phil Forest shut his computer down and laughed. He’d been dreaming of doing something nasty to that twisted little slash crowd for months now, and it’d worked even better than he’d hoped. Just further proof that the book of magic and curses he’d found in the Werthams’ estate sale last year was the real deal. Who knew?
Phil swivelled about, wondering just how ill those cackling chatroom hags were feeling right now. As far as his research could figure, they’d be puking their respective guts up for at least two or three days straight, which would serve them right. He had nothing against the slash thing per se...whatever floats your boat.
But not with Raven. He’d told them. Raven was HIS.
Glancing up at his wall, Phil’s eyes fell on his framed letter of acceptance into the Rebecca Lowell fan club. He’d been the very first member. A smile crossed his face as he remembered the first time he’d seen her...Raven...on that first episode of On Your Own years ago. It was a bolt from the blue. When she looked into the camera, she was looking right at him. He knew it. He could FEEL it.
He’d dismantled his Next Generation websites, replacing them with the first Raven-dedicated site on the net. Over the next five years he would become webmaster of no less than seven Raven/Rebecca sites and clubs (including the fanlistings for both). He thought of himself as Raven’s voice on the internet, a position he’d filled with unwavering passion since he’d begun. The campaign to bring On Your Own back to the air? That was him. The petition to get Raven her own spin-off series? The DVD drive? The solo movie petition? All him.
He’d put in a lot of work for her, for his Raven. Thousands of dollars, thousands of hours, sacrificing schoolwork, friends, everything. And soon he’d be getting his reward.
Staring around at the hundreds of photos of Rebecca Lowell staring back at him from his walls, Phil got a tremendous rush of anticipation. By this time tomorrow, he realized, they’d finally be together. Him and Raven.
Forever.
“Fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!”
Wesley was positively gushing (and dripping, and oozing) when he walked into the Hyperion lobby swinging his adze, closely followed by Angel, Gunn and Buffybot. Each of them was soaked or slimed, to some degree, in a viscous green goop. From the main desk, Cordelia and Fred made appropriate faces of distaste.
“Glad you’re enjoyin’ it, man,” Gunn said with a dejected look of disgust, “...’cause I for one could think of more pleasant ways of spending an evening.”
“Is everyone all right?” Fred looked concerned, even overtop being somewhat grossed out at the trail her boys were leaving on the carpet. She didn’t want to think what Angel’s car looked like.
“We’re fine,” Angel replied. He pulled a piece of something that looked like a tentacle off of his coat. “Can’t say the same for that nest Cordelia sent us to...”
Wesley breathed in sharply. “Have you ever SEEN so many Creeping Horrors in one place? It’s unheard of! Usually you’ll get maybe two or three, tops. But twenty? Amazing!”
“Twenty-one.”
Buffybot corrected him automatically, verifying the figure in her tactical processor. More than the others, she was covered head to toe in Creeping Horror goo. Not that it diminished her smile any.
“Twenty-one?” Wesley looked astounded. “Amazing. If I were still in the council, I’d write a paper on this!”
“Might want to clean up before accepting your pulitzer, Darwin.” Cordelia cast Wesley a humbling stare. “Because Fred and I are NOT mopping up that trail of monster goo you’re tracking around.”
“What?”
Taking a look at himself, Wesley finally noticed what a mess he and the others were. “Ah...yes. Yes, I suppose showers all around would be in order.”
“Make mine a double,” Gunn added, marching forward with a series of squishes. He half turned as he walked, pointing a friendly axe at Buffybot. “Thanks again for the help out there, girl. I owe you one.”
Buffybot smiled bashfully. “Golly, it was nothing, Mister Gunn! Just doing what I was programmed for!”
Taking a step forward, though careful to be out of range of any slime spatters, Fred looked with interest towards Gunn. “Botty did good, then?”
“Good?” Gunn stopped, spreading his arms wide. “Girl saved my butt! Check this out...two of these creepies got me from behind, right? Tentacles all slimin’ and wrappin’ around me, with a third one closing in from the front. Dead to rights, you know what I’m saying?”
Despite the obvious happy resolution to the story, Fred got worried nonetheless, a hand leaping to her mouth. “Oh my!”
“So I’m thinking, ‘this is it, I’m done for’. No way to escape...certain death!”
“Get to the point, you big ham.”
Gunn gave Cordelia a nasty stare before continuing, flashing a nod towards Buffybot. “All of a sudden, my robot here comes in like gangbusters! All hack and slash with some kinda Crouching Tiger jazz, just, pow! Cuts me loose, then wades into another one. And I mean INTO...you must’a been inside one of those things for, what, three minutes?”
Buffybot shrugged her shoulders. “It was only two point one minutes,” she corrected, “...and I’m sure you would have done the same for me!”
“Damn straight,” Gunn agreed, slapping Buffybot’s hand (a move he’d taught her a day earlier).
“She did good,” Angel noted with a grin, affirming Gunn’s assessment. “...pretty smooth, fighting that thing from the inside. I have to admit, it’s...kind of nice having someone else around who doesn’t need to breath.”
“That’s so sweet!” Buffybot beamed eagerly. “Thank you, Angel!”
The vampire smiled gracefully, before awkwardness took over. “Well...I’m hitting the shower. Anyone up for Chinese later? My treat.”
There were general murmurs of consent, and two fervently raised arms, belonging to Fred and Buffybot. They glanced at each other and giggled.
“Better hurry before I lose my appetite,” Cordelia mused acidly, “...and that monster slime? NOT doing wonders for the aroma in here.”
“Race you!”
Buffybot didn’t seem to be talking to anyone in specific as she tore up the stairs towards her room, barely hitting the steps as she went. Fred and Angel watched her vanish onto the second floor, before Fred made a curious face.
“Do robots even eat Chinese?”
Buffybot took a long shower, taking her clothes in with her at first to get the bulk of the gunk off them before stripping down. She wondered if that was how most people took showers, or if they just went in naked straightaway. She’d have to ask someone about that...this was, in fact, the first shower she’d ever taken (although she’d had a bath upon first arriving in LA, thanks to Fred and her Mother...LA sure was a good place for getting dirty, she thought).
Towelling herself off, Buffybot took a virtual look through her still-small wardrobe and began selecting an outfit to change into. She decided on simplicity...jeans and a tee shirt. Excellent post-slaying togs!
She was changed in a flash, and about to head downstairs again when she realized that maybe she was being a little rude. And that just wouldn’t do.
“Ah,” Doyle said with a smile as he appeared before Buffybot in response to her thoughts in his direction, “...there you are. Been a few days, I was startin’ to fret.”
Buffybot seemed confused. “Don’t you watch from...wherever you are? I thought you did that.”
The ghost shook his head. “Nope. That was before the job started. There’re rules now. I only see you when I’m ‘here’, so to speak.”
“So you didn’t see?” Buffybot started growing excited, as the smile on her face demonstrated. “We fought a whole nest of Creeping Horrors! Cordelia had a vision, and she sent us to an underground shelter where they were spawning, and Gunn said I saved his butt, and Angel likes that I can’t breath!”
Doyle took a moment to bask in the glow of Buffybot’s proud smile. “Not bad, sister,” he offered, a touch of pride of his own shining through, “...I see you’re getting back on track with the fighting of the evil and all.”
“It’s wonderful!” Buffybot agreed with a powerful nod. Although Doyle looked a little more reserved.
“Well, I’m glad you’re getting your slay on. I am. But there’s a lot more we need to get to work on, too. You came back with a lot more than just a wicked uppercut, remember.”
Buffybot took her smile down a notch, arching her eyebrows. “My emotions, you mean?”
Doyle nodded affirmative, and Buffybot thought he was very sweet for being concerned. Wouldn’t he be surprised to hear the plan she’d formed, on just that subject?
“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said with studied formality, “...I mean, I’ve been working on ways to improve the capacity of my emotional buffers, but I may still not be able to suppress every emotion I experience. Something could slip out! They’re very tricky things, like you said.”
Doyle suddenly looked alarmed. “Hold the weddin’. You’re doing WHAT with your emotions?” Buffybot seemed unfazed by the question.
“Suppressing them, of course. But as I was saying, they generate an awful lot of traffic that my buffers just don’t seem able to handle sometimes. I’m wondering if it was a design flaw.”
“Buffybot...I think you’re missin’ the point about the emotions. You’re not supposed to suppress them all. When one hits you hard, they’re trying to tell you something, see? You’ve gotta deal with them, not just ‘shunt the excess emotional data’ or...whatever it is you’re tryin’ to do.”
“I’m trying my best, mister Doyle. But they do confuse me awfully sometimes. That’s why I’ve decided to get help.”
“...What?”
Buffybot could see sudden confusion on Doyle’s face, and decided it was time to explain. She smiled widely.
“I need to get a boyfriend.”
A wave of mild panic crossed Doyle’s face then, and he took a moment to recompose.
“Hey...doll, listen, it’s not that I’m not flattered or nothin’. And I appreciate your tragically misguided enthusiasm as much as the next ghost. But what with me bein’ dead and incorporeal and all, well, I think it’d make any office romance more’n a little, how shall we say, impossible.”
Botty let out a tiny giggle. “Oh, Mister Doyle. You’re so silly! I didn’t mean you.”
“Oh.” Doyle straightened up, looking mildly embarrassed. “Oh...well, good. That’s good. We wouldn’t wanna...I mean, that’s for the best. Keep things proper, and...”
Buffybot waited politely while Doyle’s rambling rolled to a slow halt, which took a few moments.
“So...who may I ask DID you have in mind for this? I didn’t think you’d had much time for socializin’, Creeping Horrors and all.”
“Oh, I haven’t had to! He was right here the whole time!”
I’m not going to like this, Doyle thought with absolute certainty before asking the next question. “And the lucky fella is..?”
Buffybot kept smiling. “Angel, of course!”
His jaw dropped for a moment, and Doyle’s eyes got a faraway look in them. “I’m gettin’ fired,” he muttered gravely, “...that’s all there is to it.”
“What’s wrong?” Buffybot looked concerned at Doyle’s unenthusiastic response, rechecking her internal musings on the matter. “It all makes perfect sense!”
Doyle looked highly sceptical. “Sense must have taken on a few new shades of meaning since I was sportin’ a heartbeat. Doll, not a week ago you were tellin’ me you couldn’t stand the guy! Mean, rude, distant...any of these ringing alarm bells over there?”
Botty rolled her eyes. “Oh, that was just a misunderstanding! You were right. Now that he’s used to me, we’ve become GREAT friends! We slay together, and we’re going to have Chinese food later on. His treat!”
“Hey, I’m glad you’re bonding with the A-man. But violence and dim sum do not a Harlequin romance make. How in the name of Jack Daniels do you make the leap from total stranger to boyfriend material this fast?”
“Logic,” Buffybot replied smartly, “...Angel loved Buffy. And I was built to BE Buffy! Surely he must at least like me a lot. That makes sense, right?”
“Yeah, but not in a good way. Darling, you’re not Buffy. You said so yourself!”
“No,” Botty agreed quickly, “...but I look like her. And romantic entanglement almost always involves aesthetic desirability, I’ve observed.” Buffybot leaned closer with a sly grin. “Angel looks at me an AWFUL lot. I’ve done a comparative study? And in instances where there aren’t any active dangers present he spends more than 50% of his time looking either at me or in my general direction. Also, when there IS something...”
“Stop! This is gettin’ worse by the minute...you did a study?”
Botty nodded enthusiastically. “Would you like me to print up a pie chart?”
Doyle shook his ghostly head wearily. “I beg you, no. Doll, this is crazy! What happened, did your new body get programmed for stalkin’ or something? Why the hell are you so gung-ho on playin’ the field all of a sudden?”
“It’s these darn emotions!”
Buffybot frowned at herself for a moment. “You see? I didn’t mean to say that so loud, but my emotions just popped in and made everything noisier. They ALWAYS do that...they goof everything up. It’s very frustrating. Which is ANOTHER emotion, which makes it even MORE frustrating, and...”
“I see where you’re goin’ here, doll. But I’m still not gettin’ how shacking up with Angel is gonna solve any problems.”
“Couples help each other,” she explained simply, “...I’m quite sure of it. Anya always had trouble with her emotions, and Xander would help her out with them. And Tara told me once that being with Willow helped bring her ‘out of her shell’. And once I understood that she wasn’t making a reference to having previously existed in some sort of terrapin carapace, I realized it meant that Willow was helping HER with her emotions as well.”
“Okay...scary as it sounds I’m starting to get where you’re coming from. And how much does THAT worry me?”
“I really think having a boyfriend would help me be better able to deal with any emotions that slip out,” Buffybot continued, “...help me make sure that nothing...bad happens, again.”
“Bad? What..?”
Doyle paused, staring into Buffybot’s unreadable features. She wasn’t offering any hints...but he hadn’t been picked out of a hat for this job. Or at least, he liked to think he hadn’t.
“You’re talkin’ about what went down in Sunnydale, aren’t ya? Kid, that wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even AT fault!”
Buffybot squared her jaw sternly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Doyle was starting to feel some frustration himself. “Pretending it didn’t happen won’t help, will it? You’ve got to deal with things like...
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she repeated emphatically, her face still impassive.
Accepting temporary defeat, Doyle slumped his spirit shoulders. “Fair enough, doll. But I hope you know what you’re doing...I mean, Angel? Trust me when I say you could do better...and I love the guy!”
“It’ll be fine,” Buffybot chirped, a sudden smile springing up in contrast to her recent stoicism, “...just you watch! But I’ll need your help.”
“My...?”
“With wooing, silly. I’ve never wooed before, and don’t really understand how one pitches it correctly. I only ever had the one date. Do you have any advice for me?”
Grinning expectantly, Buffybot stared into her ghostly companion’s dubious features. His eyes rolled.
“Well...I suppose you could try buyin’ him some liquor,” he opined, mildly serious, “...that always used to work for me, anyhow.”
Midnight, just outside the Towne theatre, Los Angeles. The crowd was finally dispersed, the last of the autograph hounds had taken their leave, and Rebecca Lowell was saying goodbye to the rest of the cast for another night. A sign on the marquee read DAY PASS.
The show, small though it was, was in it’s second month and doing well. Rebecca’s celebrity status was definitely giving the otherwise microbudget feature with it’s unknown cast and crew a boost, as the inevitable spattering of ‘On Your Own’ hangers-on in the nightly audience attested to. Rebecca found she didn’t mind them as much anymore as she used to, and mostly worried that her castmates would resent the attention she was getting. But they just thought it was funny.
It had been a year, almost to the day now, she realized, that she had made her decision to break out of the Hollywood system she’d almost been born into so long ago, out of the lifestyle that had led her into obsession, depression, and a near fatal narcissism, and for the first time in her career actually just worry about acting. Looking back on her life, it felt like somebody elses...it was amazing how a terrifying vampire attack could give your sensibilities a nudge like that. She was glad for it. And that she’d survived, naturally.
Raising a tired hand, Rebecca flagged down a convenient cab as it slowed near her. Tonight was the last performance for several days, and she was looking forward to a little personal time. Just flake out, eat food that was bad for her, and watch a few days worth of Gilligan’s Island. That would be just fine.
A flash of movement caught the actress’ eye as she stepped up to the taxicab, someone suddenly moving from beside the theatre. She turned, not recognizing him. Had he been there the whole time?
The man, wearing a nondescript black suit, strode over towards Rebecca and her ride. She opened the door quickly.
“Sorry,” she muttered, apologetic but firm, “...this is my cab.”
The gun flashed out of the stranger’s inner pocket, staring Rebecca down. “You bet it is,” he said back, then motioned for her to step inside. She froze for a moment, eyes darting about to see if any possible help was at hand. It wasn’t. She swallowed hard.
“Listen...if this is about money, I can...”
“Shut up,” the goon muttered, reaching his free hand forward and shoving her roughly into the cab. A little shriek of fear escaped her before she regained her control. She had to scramble as her abductor crushed his bulky frame into the seat next to her.
“Let’s go,” he snarled, and the driver (who nodded and smiled, casting a smirking wink towards Rebecca in the rear-view mirror) took off. The fact that Rebecca could see his reflection was, sadly, of very little comfort to her just now.
“Morning, Wes. You’re here early.”
Angel started down the stairs just as Wes finished putting a fresh pot of coffee on the machine. A mild smile came to his face.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Wesley mused aloud, tossing a folded newspaper onto the front desk. Angel bounded to the floor.
“That today’s paper?”
“Mm-hmm,” Wes mumbled, pointing with interest at the object standing just beside said paper, “...and that was here when I got in.”
Angel snatched up the morning paper, taking a moment to glance at the curious object in question. It seemed to be a bottle of twelve year old scotch with a tiny pink bow around it.
“Weird...who’s that for?”
“Hopefully, me.” Wesley walked away, a stack of files and prophecies in his hands. Angel gave the bizarre gift one more distrustful glance before dismissing it, and settling down to read the news. He didn’t realize that he wouldn’t make it past the first page.
As he scanned the headlines with a rapidly furrowing brow, Angel barely heard the approaching pitter-patter of robotic feet, as Buffybot strode lithely down the staircase. She wore a huge smile, stylish blue top, pink skirt and matching ribbon around her neck (she’d bought an extra one late last night during her gift run...she thought it would be very cute, although mister Doyle had warned of ‘tackiness’...she was sure she didn’t know what he meant). She all but floated to the ground floor, dashing forward and stopping coyly right before Angel.
“Good morning, Angel! Did you get my...”
“We’ve got work to do.” Angel pounded a fist down onto his morning paper, rattling the nearby bottle of scotch. Wesley stopped his paperwork and came over, concerned.
“Angel? What’s the matter?”
Without a word, Angel passed the paper to Wes, who took less than a moment to understand Angel’s concern. The headline read
REBECCA LOWELL KIDNAPPED
Former star of ‘On Your Own’ snatched at gunpoint in front of local theatre
“Good heavens...”
“Get everyone,” Angel barked, “...we’re finding her. Now.”
Wesley nodded, happily acquiescing his authority to Angel for the moment as he headed for the phone. Buffybot looked on, perplexed.
“Is something wrong, Angel?”
Angel snapped back towards her. “We’ve got a case,” he explained urgently. “...a kidnapping. Playtime’s over.”
A wave of relief poured out of Buffybot’s emotional processors. No WONDER he hadn’t acknowledged her gift...business came first. Angel sure was a real champion!
“Wes, can you check out the scene? It’s still daylight, I can’t...”
“Of course, Angel. I’ll call the others, have them meet me there.”
“Leave Cordy,” Angel requested, “...I want her here.”
Wesley nodded. “I’d like to take Buffybot along, if that’s all right with both of you. Her scanners may be able to locate a few clues we can’t.”
Botty smiled, and Angel fired her a sharp stare. “You in?”
“I won’t let you down, Angel!”
Ignoring Buffybot’s enthusiasm, Wesley walked towards Angel. “What will you do?”
“I’m going underground...make some house calls. This may be about more than just Rebecca.”
Wesley raised a questioning brow. “You suspect someone may be using her to get to you?”
“Can’t ignore the possibility. My connection with her wasn’t exactly secret.”
Buffybot frowned. “Connection?”
“Get someone to check out Rebecca’s agent...Oliver Simon. He may know something.”
“Wouldn’t be his first time taking liberties with the law. We’re on it.”
“What sort of ‘connection’?”
“Let’s do this right, Wes.” Angel turned, about to make his way to the basement and it’s connecting tunnels. “She’s been through enough. Especially on my account.”
Wes smiled reassuringly. “We’ll get her back, Angel. Don’t worry. Go.”
With a worried glance, Angel darted off towards the basement, and Wesley started moving for the main door. Buffybot watched Angel disappear, a little nervous herself.
“Goodbye, Angel...good luck! We’ll solve the case...just you watch!”
“Come along, Buffybot.”
Wesley gave Botty’s arm a tug, and she reluctantly started along, giving one last wave towards the basement door, which had already fallen shut behind Angel.
At least she was working a case, helping the helpless! Mister Doyle would be quite proud of her. And that was...
“Not like a ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ connection, though...right?”
Phil hit the ENTER key and finished deleting the bulk of his hard drive with barely a flicker of emotion. With just that simple action, the bulk of Phil’s life for the last seven years vanished into the electronic ether. But that was his old life, he thought with a smile. Time for the new one to begin.
He yanked the plug on his computer and pulled the motherboard and storage out of the tower that he’d already opened. Tossing them onto the floor, Phil gleefully stomped them into junk. Covering his tracks, that what he was doing. Phil Forest was no dummy.
It was more difficult to cover the creative accounting he’d done in pilfering his parents’ bank accounts and credit cards, and that would come out eventually, but by then it would be too late. When they got back from their vacation (if they could, with no more funds in their name), he’d be gone, forever.
Phil got the last of his bags and walked them out to the car, tossing them in the trunk as his excitement rose. It wouldn’t be long now...from the morning papers, he knew that phase one had gone off just fine (one unwanted witness notwithstanding...he hadn’t expected EVERYTHING to go perfectly). She’d be there, now, at the new house. Just waiting for him. His Raven.
Phil smiled from ear to ear as he slammed the trunk of his Father’s car down hard, turning back towards the house he’d grown up in. A mild twinge of nostalgia stayed his hand as he reflected on some personal history...it was here that he’d first seen her, after all, on the television in the family room. He shivered at the memory.
But that was all in the past, and a glorious future awaited him. Them. There was no going back.
Phil lit the match and tossed it in, onto the pool of gasoline that laid, shimmering, waiting to ignite and take the home and all it’s memories into it’s grip. There was a flare and a wave of heat as the flames started to lick the walls, spreading from room to room. Phil let out a small laugh before turning away and climbing into the drivers seat. He hit the accelerator and sped away, towards the woman he loved, and the destiny he’d been planning for all these years.
Finally...she would be his. Like she was always meant to be.
“I’m detecting several hundred different varieties of exhaust, and hundreds of thousands of human cell residues. I’m afraid it would take several days for me to sort through them by this point, and my probability generators are less optimistic than usual about the odds of a helpful result.”
Wesley patted Buffybot on the back as she concluded her major scans of the street out front of the Towne theatre. Though the immediate area was still cordoned off, hundreds of people and cars had milled past the scene in the hours since the kidnapping occurred, effectively spoiling the integrity of what Buffybot had been hoping would be a nice, juicy crime scene.
“We’ll find another way,” Wes reassured her, “...don’t worry about it.”
“I second that,” Doyle added, lurking nearby. He was quite enjoying his ghostly prowl along the street, as Buffybot had thought he might enjoy coming along for the trip.
“You don’t think Angel will be disappointed in me, do you? Because I don’t want to let him down.”
“Nonsense. You’re doing a fine job, Buffybot. No one expected to crack the case so easily. Gunn’s talking to the eyewitness, perhaps he’ll turn something up.”
Nodding respectfully, Buffybot took another look around. “So...this lady we’re looking for. Rebecca?”
“Hmm?”
“Well, she and Angel...he said they were ‘connected’. They weren’t...I mean, maybe they were but...was she his girlfriend?”
“Angel? A girlfriend?” Doyle snorted. “Not a chance, darlin’!”
Wesley looked surprised. “Who, Miss Lowell? Oh no, no. They had a strictly business...well...”
Buffybot leaned in anxiously during Wesley’s pause. “They had a business well?”
“No, I mean...there were certain...feelings, expressed on both sides, yes.”
“Feelings?” Doyle now stepped closer, intrigued. “Angel has feelings?”
“Oh.” Buffybot waited a moment awkwardly. “But...nothing happened, right?”
“I wouldn’t say THAT,” Wesley replied evasively, “...let’s just say it didn’t end well, shall we? As far as I know, there’s been no contact between them since that encounter. That was nearly two years ago.”
“Long separations ARE his style,” Doyle noted dryly. Wesley pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
“I’ll see if Cordelia’s found anything...perhaps Fred’s ready to join us, too. We could always use another pair of eyes.”
Buffybot looked concerned. “I’ll bet she’s pretty.” Wesley froze.
“What? I didn’t...that would be highly inappropriate, I think, in my position, to...of course, Fred’s a very lovely girl, I’m not saying...”
“I meant Rebecca.”
Buffybot stared curiously at Wesley, who was alternating now between a few of the rosier shades, and swallowing uncomfortably. Doyle only chuckled.
“Oh, yeah. Someone’s got issues here.”
“Miss Lowell, yes...well, she’s certainly attractive enough, I suppose. In a Hollywood sort of way, you understand. Not my type, really.”
“I see...”
Taking advantage of Buffybot’s sudden quiet, Wesley stepped away to finally make his calls. Botty stepped up onto the curb to chat sneakily with Doyle.
“Angel and an actress,” Doyle said with some disbelief, “...who would’a thought? Maybe he’s not as gay as I thought...”
“I’m a little concerned, mister Doyle. I was hoping to impress Angel by helping with his case...”
“That’s a good plan. Angel always was a workaholic.”
“...But what happens if he and this Rebecca lady meet and fall in love? Girls like heroes who rescue them, I know they do!”
“That’s the popular theory, I suppose. But c’mon, you heard the stuffy English fella! They haven’t even talked in two years...and with Angel, the phrase ‘ended badly’ can take on epic proportions, lemme assure you. Just keep on doin’ your thing. But don’t force it, okay?”
“Okay,” Botty replied, a little unconvincingly. She seemed fraught with concentration. “I’m just worried, that’s all. Robots aren’t supposed to be all emotional, and I need someone to help me deal with them!”
“Well, you know, that IS kind of what I’m here...”
“Like right now! I think I may be experiencing jealousy...I’m not enjoying it very much, I have to say”
Doyle let out a sigh. “As emotions go, that’s not one of my favourite flavours either. Try, I dunno...giddiness or something.”
“It makes me feel bad,” Buffybot admitted glumly, “...and my emotions are constantly interfering with my other programs. I need to figure out how to...”
Doyle snapped his fingers, halting Botty in mid-worry, pointing over her shoulder. At the same moment, her sensor array alerted her to Wesley and Gunn’s approach. She put on a smile and turned smartly to greet them.
“Nothing from the witness,” Gunn reported, “...some lady lives in the neighbourhood. She saw TV-gal get shanghaied into a cab from a block away. Didn’t get any sort of look at the perps or the license.”
“That’s disappointing. Still, I’d expected as much.”
Buffybot looked at both Wes and Gunn. “What should we do now?”
“I’m gonna give 5-0 a try,” Gunn started, “...see if they know something that hasn’t been released yet.”
Wes nodded. “Good idea. You do seem to have a knack for that sort of thing.”
“Hey man, one thing you learn growing up in a neighbourhood like mine? Is how to talk to cops.”
“Well, Fred’s on her way. Apparently this Oliver Simon character is out of the country, and no longer represents Rebecca. Cordelia’s still looking into it.”
Botty smiled sweetly. “What about Angel?”
“There’s been no word. I expect he’s making some less than delicate inquiries among the demon underworld right now. He’ll check in.”
“I’m keeping all police bands under constant surveillance, just in case some new clues emerge. We’ll crack this case wide open in no time!”
Gunn smirked. “Ah, I remember when I had that sort of enthusiasm for the job.” He paused, tilting his head. “Oh wait...no I don’t. I’ll see you two later...call if you get something, okay?”
Wes gave Gunn a thumbs up as he started jogging away. “We’ll meet up at the hotel!”
Botty watched Gunn depart, then turned, a little less gleefully than a moment ago, back to Wesley. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to turn up anything useful here, Wesley. I’ve never worked a kidnapping before.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Buffybot. These things take time.”
Buffybot smiled, returning her scanning array once again to the scene of the crime, and a noteworthy chunk of her processing power to the task of snagging herself a boyfriend. As if sensing this, Doyle wearily rubbed his temple, shaking his head in dismay.
Phil sent his hirelings on their way, after paying them the remainder of their fee, for services quite splendidly rendered. He even gave them a bonus, he was in such a good mood. Partly he just wanted to keep them happy...crooks could turn on you pretty quick, after all, he’d learned that from the ‘Simple Crime’ episode of On Your Own, Season 5. But he wouldn’t be needing the money anyways. Might as well get rid of it.
He’d start getting the ritual set up in a few minutes...it would probably take him until after sundown, but that was fine. He just wanted a quick peek first. Just a look.
His fingers shook as he slid the panel in the door, giving him a clear view of the room he’d prepared in advance. Everything was as he’d left it, except for one thing...one person.
There she was. Right on the bed, where he’d told them to leave her. She was a little older now, unfortunately, but that wouldn’t matter for long. After all, he reminded himself, this wasn’t really Raven...not yet. But soon, very soon, she would be. She was struggling pretty good against the ropes and gag, he noticed...it was pretty exciting, he had to admit. But there was work to be done first. Then, they could play their lives away.
Phil breathed in deeply, smiling a satisfied smile. If only those poseurs on the net could see him now.
“Anything?”
Angel stormed up from the basement sewer access, brushing some sort of flakes, or scales, off of his shoulder. From the look on his face, his sojourn into the Los Angeles demon underground had been a disappointment.
“Zip.” Cordelia pulled her notepad closer, refreshing her memory of the short list of dead ends she’d had the dismay of following so far. “Oliver Simon has been living in Paris for six months, and apparently Rebecca dumped him as representation right after that whole ‘fake stalker’ joyfest. She’s been doing stagework here in LA...independent stuff. No sinister connections yet on any of the cast and crew.”
“No ransom demands, either,” Gunn added, having himself returned from his field duties an hour earlier, “...I’m wonderin’ if it ain’t some crazy fan, wanted himself a real live trophy.”
Reaching the front desk, Angel seemed sceptical. “I don’t know...would someone really be willing to go to these lengths just because he liked some television show?”
“Are you kidding?” Cordelia glared at Angel. “You should have SEEN some of the desperate, clingy websites Xander showed me during the psychotic episode that was our relationship. Those Babylon 5 people? Out of their minds.”
“Still sounds fishy...there were at least two people involved in this, from what we know. That says organization, planning...”
Gunn rose to a stand. “We do have one maybe lead. Wes called, said the cops found an abandoned cab by the roadside a few miles from town. He’s down at the cab company, see if he can’t get some info on who stole the ride. Might be one of our perps.”
Angel brightened slightly. “Good...where’s Fred?”
“She and robotgirl are checking out the car...sounded like kids going to the zoo on the phone. I swear those two are sisters or something.”
Angel glanced out the doors. “Sun’s going down...if we don’t hear anything soon, I’m hitting the streets.”
“Easy, man...whoever’s got her, it’s a good bet they ain’t hidin’ her on Pico Boulevard.”
“I have to find her!” An angry fist slammed the countertop, rattling everyone’s nerves. “It’s closing in on twenty four hours now, and...I owe her.”
“Angel, calm down.” Cordelia laid a hand on top of Angels, stroking it softly. “Something will turn up...she’ll be okay.”
A moment later the phone rang, prompting a quiet wave of relief from Cordy, who was in fact a great deal less confident about the case than she’d been fronting. Angel snapped the receiver up in mid-ring.
”Hello?”
“Oh, hi Angel! It’s me, Fred. How are you?”
Fred was squatted down on a patch of grass next to the road, a laptop computer nestled on the ground beside her. A connection cord was running from one of it’s ports, up and up, into a small dataport in the back of Buffybot’s neck. Buffybot was standing perfectly still, staring about thirty yards up the roadside, where several uniformed police officers were poring over the abandoned taxicab they’d discovered there. Several small and curious images were popping up on Fred’s computer screen, images she was keeping a fascinated eye on.
“Oh yeah! That’s what I was calling to tell you. Buffybot and I...well, Buffybot mostly, I’m kinda just tagging along...”
“Say hi for me!” Buffybot suddenly said, maintaining her rigid eye contact with the vehicle.
“Botty says hi.” Fred waited a moment, then turned her face towards Buffybot.
“Angel says hi back.”
Buffybot spared a smile as Fred turned her attention back to her computer screen, and the phone. She listened for a moment to the politely restrained, noticeably frustrated voice on the other end of the line before continuing. “Well, like I was saying, Buffybot and I were checking out the car that we think Rebecca was kidnapped in...well, we couldn’t get too close to it, on account of all the policemen who’re buzzing around it like busy little bees. Bzzz bzz bzz! I swear, you’d think there was honey in that cab or...”
A squawking nose interrupted Fred from the telephone, and she settled down. “Sorry. What I’m trying to say is that Buffybot got this idea? Because when she got rebuilt, the man who rebuilt her included all sorts of neat stuff in her scanning array, and she’s even got a GDV apparatus? That’s a gas discharge visualizer, which is just tech-talk for your basic Kirlian photographic unit, which is taking pictures of the auras given off by people or things, even if they aren’t there anymore. Not magic auras, more scientific ones, you know? It looks very pretty, and Botty was nice enough to let me peek in on what she’s doing by plugging my computer into the back of her neck...”
Another interruption. “I’m gettin’ there! Anywho, Buffybot’s managed to get a kinda snapshot of the aura around the people from the car, and even of the car that they obviously switched to when they ditched their cab, and now she thinks she can ’track’ them, sorta follow the aura’s residues through time and space to wherever it is they are now.”
“I’m not sure it will work,” Buffybot added, continuing her scans, “...there’s some interference from other patterns nearby. And my GDV array is a little twitchy in interacting with my other systems.”
“Did you hear that? Oh, but don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll work! It’s all really amazing, you should see what...what?”
Fred waited, listening as Angel rattled off some quick instructions over the phone. She nodded brightly at each one. “Gotcha...we won’t go anywhere. Don’t worry, Angel, we’ll have your lady friend back before you can say Schrodinger’s Cat!”
Fred was about to end the call, when she remembered something. “Oh! Angel! I almost forgot!”
There was a moment as Angel nervously asked what the problem was. Fred appeared very studious.
“Buffybot asks if you could bring her hat and coat.”
“...hello?”
The door opened up once again. Rebecca froze, having been working for the last hour on her wrist restraints, to little avail. She hoped that the hood would be coming off soon. It felt like it had been almost a whole day since she’d been taken, and the disorientation was starting to deeply unsettle her.
The hands, that previously had led her on her two bathroom breaks, eased her off the bed, where she came to a wobbly stand. She was weak from hunger and fear, though she tried hard not to let either show. Her captor started marching her in what felt like a new direction now, possibly out the same door he was coming in through. Then this time was different. Somehow, that didn’t make her very confident.
After a minute of awkward navigation, Rebecca was lowered onto what felt like a sofa. Her captor’s hands came up towards her face and, after lingering for several uncomfortable seconds around her neck and shoulders, loosened the strap around her neck and at last pulled her hood off.
Light flooded in, making Rebecca blink painfully as her captor’s hands loosened and pulled off the gag around her mouth as well. It took her a minute before she really got a feel for where she was...it looked just like a regular house. There was some odd crystal ball-thingamajig on a pedestal not far from her, that had the oddest glow about it...but besides that, it was just a house. Familiar looking, actually...
Before she could ponder that sense of familiarity, Rebecca’s captor stepped around her and into view. An involuntary shiver ran though her as she looked up at him while he stalked around, pulling a chair up a few feet across from her. It wasn’t one of the two goons who had snatched her outside the theatre, she could see that. In fact, from the looks of him, he was barely out of his teens.
Rebecca stared at him, the out of shape kid sitting across from her, fidgeting with his hands and staring at her like she was the Holy Grail, and for a second she wasn’t sure if she should be scared or amused.
Then that look of reverence in his eyes got a little too predatory for her liking, she remembered the tight restraints around her wrists, and opted for a healthy spot of fear. Just in case.
“Who are you? What do you want with me??”
They were reasonable question, Rebecca thought. The boy just fidgeted some more, though, his eyes darting up and down her body.
“I can’t believe it’s really...God, it’s going to be so perfect. So perfect.”
The near desperation in the boy’s tone gave Rebecca chills. He was out where the busses don’t run, that was for sure.
“Please...please, you don’t have to DO this. Let me out of here, we can still...”
“You look so old,” the boy interrupted, startling Rebecca. There was a note of disappointment in his narrowed eyes, which then fell over her legs and thighs.
“...and fat.”
For a second, Rebecca’s fear got bumped out of favour by sheer indignation. “Ex-CUSE me?” Seven pounds she’d put on, seven lousy pounds! Was she supposed to be a skeleton all her life?
“But it doesn’t matter!” The boy brightened, a beatific smile crossing his face. “Once it’s done, none of this will matter anymore. I’m going to make it all right, Raven. You’ll see.”
“Will you LISTEN? I’m not ‘Raven’, goddammit! My name is Rebecca Lowell...I’m an actress. This is the real world, you can’t just...”
“You’re RAVEN!”
Rebecca jolted back in her seat at the ferocity of the boy’s response. He was in his own little world. And she was now praying she’d survive her forced visit.
“You’re Raven,” he repeated, a little more calmly, “...you’ve just forgotten. Rebecca, she’s made you forget. It’s like you don’t know who you are anymore. I understand. I’m going to fix everything.”
Try as she might, Rebecca couldn’t figure out what the little freak was talking about. Before she could work up the nerve to ask, he stood up and walked over to that pedestal she noted before, the one that seemed out of place. He walked behind it, putting his hands on the orb, and smiled. Rebecca watched all this and, as her eyes fell over the entirety of the room she was in, a renewed sense of dread hit her as she recognized where she knew it from.
It was an exact replica of the main house set from ‘On Your Own’.
Phil smiled sweetly at her, the glow from the orb casting a sinister glow over his face. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
Angel and Buffybot had been driving for nearly two hours now, amidst the darkness of the outskirts of Los Angeles. He had sent Fred home as soon as he had arrived at their roadside stakeout, which Buffybot thought was a very good sign. He was already comfortable being alone with her! They’d be dating in no time at this rate.
Although she had to work hard to keep her optimism generators in check...she was on the job, after all. And Angel being such a fan of hard work and all, she didn’t want to disappoint him. Which, unfortunately, was exactly what she was afraid she was doing.
“I’m sorry Angel...I don’t seem to be able to pick up their trail again. There was just too much interference for my scanners to maintain contact.”
Angel turned the wheel slowly along a dusty corner. “Don’t worry about it...this is a pretty sparsely populated area right now. Good place for our kidnappers to try and hide. If someone’s holding her around here, I’ll find her. You did good.”
You could almost feel the smile from the next county. “Thank you, Angel! You’re so nice.”
“Uh-huh.”
Buffybot shunted some extra power to her infrared scanners as she swept across the homes they passed by. It sure would impress Angel if she found this Rebecca lady first! Although the thought of her reactivated a small cache of jealousy in Buffybot’s emotion junction.
“So...this lady, Rebecca...was she your girlfriend?”
Angel let out a loud, exasperated sigh before answering. “For the third time, no. She was just...she was a client, that’s all. I saved her life, there was a whole thing with a fake stalking, and then I turned evil and tried to kill her. End of story.”
That caught Buffybot’s attention. “You turned evil?”
Angel blushed. “Just for a minute. She drugged me! It wasn’t my...can we just concentrate here?”
Buffybot nodded and continued scanning, updating her files on both Angel and Rebecca Lowell. She sure wasn’t thinking very much of this lady, if she was going around drugging her would-be boyfriend into turning evil. She didn’t sound like a very nice person, if you asked her.
Although, Buffybot had to admit, that could be the pesky jealousy talking. Darn emotions.
They passed another house, which seemed to be deserted, or so Buffybot’s scans told her. Angel seemed to be sniffing the air at regular intervals also. Did he have this lady’s scent memorized? That didn’t bode well. She would have to start taking the initiative...Doyle had mentioned that Angel seemed to like ‘strong-willed’ women, and Buffybot was sure she could fake that well enough. As a robot, she wasn’t entirely certain if she had ‘will’. It was another of those tricky concepts she had trouble with.
Keeping up her scans, Buffybot accessed her small-talk subroutine. “It sure is a nice night tonight. Don’t you think?”
Angel kept looking away. “Sure.”
“This is a very nice car.”
“Thanks.”
“Isn’t it pretty how the moon reflects off the hood? I think it’s pretty.”
“Whatever. Let’s check down there.”
Angel turned the car slowly down a new road, a solitary house standing about half a mile away. Buffybot directed her scans in it’s direction.
“I like long drives. They’re very relaxing.”
“Yeah. Are you picking anything up?”
“I’m detecting heat signatures in the house up ahead...do you like dancing?”
“What? No.”
“I think dancing is fun. Do you like fun?”
“I’m getting a scent...let’s check this place out. I’ll pull over up there.”
“Maybe you and I could date sometime.”
“Sure. Are you getting anything else? Anything specific?”
Buffybot smiled girlishly. “Definite signs of two people in the house. Also, I’m starting to pick up an undisclosed energy fluctuation which could...”
Before she could finish, Angel suddenly slammed the car to a halt by the side of the road. Buffybot looked invitingly towards him, a look that was matched by an incredulous stare on Angel’s part.
“What did you just say?”
Buffybot checked her recent vocal files in a nanosecond. “I said that I can detect two distinct individuals present in the house up ahead. Also, there’s an unusual energy signal that may be some kind...”
“Before that!”
Another recheck, then a pause. “When I asked you about the possibility of dating..?”
Angel’s eyes flashed angrily. “That’s the one.”
“I’m awfully excited!” Buffybot smiled, clicking open her new “Dating Angel’ History file. So far there was only one entry. “Thank you for saying yes, I promise to be a super girlfriend!”
Shutting off the ignition, Angel shifted rapidly in his seat to face Buffybot squarely. He didn’t look as thrilled as she was. “Wait a minute. I never said yes! What are you...”
“You said ‘sure’, actually. But my linguistic processors assure me that’s a positive response. It is, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but...no! I wasn’t even listening! We’re working here, I didn’t think you were gonna be....we’re working here! And you’re a robot!”
Slowly, Buffybot’s smile started to fade in the face of Angel’s tirade. “Are you saying you want to break up with me?”
Angel moved sharply to say something, then seemed to think better of it, drawing back. He glared at Buffybot, wagging a finger in her face.
“This is insane,” he finally came out with, “...can we just do this? Kidnapping first, dating game later. MUCH later. All right?”
Before Buffybot could answer, Angel turned and leapt out of the car, stalking down the road towards the house in question. Botty followed, rapidly processing his recent outburst as best she could manage. She was having a little trouble, even without the occasional interference from her emotional generators, which weren’t responding terribly well either.
As far as she could tell, he was quite cross with her, and she couldn’t understand why. Asking someone to be your boyfriend, well, that was a nice thing, wasn’t it? It meant you liked them! And Angel seemed so lonesome sometimes. No one liked being lonesome. She sure didn’t...
After a few seconds, she’d reached Angel’s side as he crept along in the darkness towards the house. She matched his stride. “Angel?”
No answer. He just kept on stalking, and Botty stalked along, processors working feverishly. “Angel, are you angry with me?”
Angel seemed to stall in his motion for a second, furrowing his already well-furrowed brow. After a moment he angled his head towards Buffybot, though not going so far as to make eye contact.
“No,” he replied in a controlled tone, “...no, I’m not angry. Just...surprised. And this isn’t really the time either way.”
“I just thought...”
“Shhh! Later, all right? Just...scan, or something.”
Buffybot shut her mouth, increasing power to her scans. They told her the same thing as before...two people in the house up ahead, unusual energy signature. Angel had hardly needed to tell her to scan, it wasn’t like she ever really stopped. And there was sure no need for ‘shhh’-ing. That was just plain rude. Maybe mister Doyle had been right after all. Maybe Angel really wasn’t boyfriend material.
No, no, no. That was just the goofy emotions, Buffybot decided. They muck everything up. Angel was a champion! He was just worried about this poor lady friend of his who’d been kidnapped. And here she was, worrying about herself and her problems. Bad Buffybot!
“I’m sorry Angel,” Buffybot finally said, 1.2 seconds after being shushed, “...I shouldn’t have brought all this up tonight. My emotions are still very tricky for me to control.”
Angel seemed to pause, weighing the robot’s words. “That’s okay. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”
Buffybot smiled and nodded, and she and Angel progressed almost a foot before she started talking again.
“It’s just that I was so worried about these emotions of mine, and people with boyfriends and girlfriends seem very happy, and you seemed to be liking me more and more and I thought, maybe you and I could be boyfriend and girlfriend. That’s all.”
“All right!”
Angel stopped, turning to face Buffybot at the edge of the house’s property. He once again looked cross.
“Time out!”
Phil sprinkled a few drops of his blood onto the orb, eliciting an eerie glow from it. Rebecca cringed backwards, increasingly worried about what was going to happen.
A few years ago, of course, she would have thought his kid was a nut. A few years ago, she wouldn’t have thought that rock was anything more than a tricked-up lava lamp.
A few years ago, she thought vampires weren’t real.
“Please,” her voice cracked just a touch, as she could start to feel a tingle of sorts emanating from the orb, “...please. You don’t have to do this. WHATEVER it is you’re doing...”
“Shhh,” Phil retorted with a smile, laying his hands on the orb as it glowed brighter, “...it’ll all be over soon. That old...life...oh, God...oh yes...wipe it away. Bring her to me, the real her...make our world as it should be. I invoke your power...make her real...”
Bubbles of mystical energy started rolling out of the orb, phasing through everything in their paths. Rebecca could feel them inside of her, doing things, changing things....her mind felt as malleable as wet clay, and suddenly she couldn’t remember her name anymore. Where was she? Her mind was filled with magic and noise, and all she could hear was a boy’s voice, shouting something. One word, over and over...
“Raven,” Phil cried out, as magic burst out of the orb all around, and through him, “...RAVEN!”
Several meters away, on the edge of the property line...
“But if you didn’t like me, how come you sent Fred away? I thought you wanted to be alone with me!”
“I couldn’t send you away! You had the gas-vapour-whatever it is scan going on! I needed you to track Rebecca. That’s all!”
Buffybot frowned. “So...you don’t like me?”
“I like you fine!” Angel struggled to keep his voice down to a secretive level. “That’s not the point!”
“Sure it is! People date other people they like, don’t they? Isn’t that how dating works?”
“You and I aren’t exactly people, if we’re being nitpicky. Is this some ‘Buffy-program’ thing? Is that what this is?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean! I dated Buffy, and you were built to take her place for a while...is that why you think you have to...”
“No! Of course not! I just thought...you were nice, sometimes, and a champion, and you liked that I didn’t have to breath, and...I just thought it might be nice.”
Angel softened for a moment. “I’m flattered. I really am. But this isn’t the sort of thing that you want to rush into. Especially with me. Believe me, I’ve got...”
As he spoke, Angel saw Buffybot cock her head suddenly in the direction of the house, a curious look forming on her face. “What? What is it?”
“I’m registering a spike in the energy fluctuation inside. Something is happening.”
Glancing towards the house, Angel could now see a strange light flickering behind the curtains. “What energy fluctuation? What is that?”
“I tried to tell you earlier,” Buffybot explained, emotions directing her to a rare accessing of her snarkiness subroutine, “...but, oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t listening to me.”
“We don’t have TIME for this! What..?”
“It’s not registering in my database...it’s likely a magical emanation of some variety. I’m still not that well equipped when it comes to things of that nature.”
“We’re going in,” Angel said, starting to head towards the house. Buffybot sent a hand out to restrain him.
“Wait...the fluctuation is increasing exponentially...it’s coming this way.”
“Here?” Angel glanced about to no avail. “From where?”
Buffybot’s eyes went wide as her scanners went wild. “It’s HERE..!”
The glow and the fuzziness died down, and Rebecca could feel hands behind her, undoing something that had been restraining her wrists. She blinked her eyes a few times to take in her surroundings...she was back in her house, thank goodness. Her memories were a little hazy...she remembered something about Celeste leaving, and an argument with Chic. But where was..?
“Bobby? BOBBY??”
She strained frantically, before her hands came loose and the figure behind her came into view. She smiled at him, and Phil smiled back.
“Oh, Bobby, you’re here! I thought...I thought...”
Phil put a finger to Rebecca’s lips, silencing her. He smiled, a single tear falling down his cheek.
“It’s okay, Raven. Everything’s gonna be okay from now on. Bobby’s here.”
“Maybe we should call him.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes at Fred’s request, the tenth such suggestion in the last hour since she’d arrived back at the hotel. Across the lobby, Wes and Gunn were engaged in some mild sparring with antique swords. Cordelia made a mental note that they both needed to get out more.
“Relax Fred. Angel just wants to play his big, loner hero bit for the poor damsel in distress. It’s really the only way he can communicate sometimes.”
I like that bit, Fred didn’t say. Instead she bit her lip and let her considerable mind wander in a few hundred directions. A slow night for her.
“You don’t think...”
Giving up on getting any more work done, Cordelia saved the file she was working on and turned fully towards Fred, looking expectantly. Fred looked awkward, as usual.
“I mean, you don’t think Angel and this actress-friend of his...well, you don’t think they’ll, you know...”
Fred made a few uncomfortable looking faces, and Cordy thought that she, too, definitely needed to get out of the hotel more. “I think not,” she answered confidently, “...quite frankly, I think we’ll be lucky if she doesn’t slap a lawsuit on his undead behind.”
“Aw, come on...you don’t think she’d be pretty grateful when Angel swoops in all heroic, saving her from the evil kidnappers, fighting off the zombies...”
“Zombies?”
Fred paused, reviewing her train of thought. “Sorry...in my head, there are zombies.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. Zombies or not, there won’t be too much room for post-rescue shenanigans with whatsername along for the ride.”
“You mean Buffybot?”
“That’s her. I can’t bring myself to say that name.”
Wesley suddenly appeared, laying a sword loudly down on the nearby counter. “Cordelia’s right, Fred. Angel has handled much worse situations than this in his time. Your concern would be better saved for the kidnappers, when he catches up with them.”
Arriving a moment later, Gunn concurred. “Yeah, he’ll give us a shout when he’s done takin’ care of business.”
Cordelia raised an eyebrow towards Gunn, who cleared his throat. “I mean business-business, not...you know, ‘takin’ care of business’-business.”
Fred looked confused. “I don’t get it.”
Before Gunn could make any explanation, screeching tires sounded from just outside the main doors, along with a brief flash of headlights. A few seconds later, two familiar figures entered the lobby. Although ‘stormed in’ might be a better term.
“Angel!”
Barreling into the lobby, Angel didn’t seem to pay heed to Fred’s greeting. Instead, he just jerked an angry thumb over his shoulder towards Buffybot, trailing behind.
“Somebody want to call this girl off? I swear, I can’t take much more of this.”
Buffybot stopped, her hands balling into fists. “Why do you always have to BE like this? It doesn’t have to be this way all the time!”
Angel spun on his heels and cast an accusing finger towards Buffybot, amidst curious stares from the others. “Hey, I am who I am, baby! Always have been. Quit trying to change me!”
“Angel?” Wesley approached the vampire cautiously. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, and where’s Rebecca?” Cordelia asked, rising form her seat, “...don’t tell me you tried to kill her again. That’s so old, Angel.”
Throwing up his arms, Angel turned away from everyone and stalked away dramatically. “Stop crowding me! Everyone’s always smothering me...why can’t you people just leave me alone?”
Shaking slightly, Buffybot watched Angel storm away towards the office, before she finally flung herself towards Gunn.
“Oh, Charles!”
Gunn reeled as the tiny robot wrapped him in a huge hug, holding him tight. “Charles, he was so good for a while! We were together, and...oh Charles, why does this have to happen? Why can’t he just let himself be happy?”
Struggling for breath, Gunn gave a helpless gesture towards his teammates. “Okay...anyone else think this is a little weird?”
Wesley frowned. “They are being a little more...demonstrative, than usual.”
“Yeah, and doesn’t she always call you ‘Mister Gunn’? Not that there’s anything wrong with Charles, but...”
“Yak, yak yak,” Angel shouted suddenly, cutting Fred off, “...God, I need a drink. The hell with all of you.”
Breaking away from Gunn, Buffybot shot a desperate stare in Angel’s direction. “Chic, no! Please, Chic, you promised!” Angel, yanking open the fridge door with one hand, turned angrily towards her.
“Stop trying to change me, Tempest! You don’t know me! Nobody knows me!”
Buffybot just stood there for a moment, quivering, until at last she turned and ran, this time landing herself in Fred’s arms. She buried her face in Fred’s shoulder, heaving tearless sobs in a fine imitation of crying. Fred patted her dutifully on the shoulder and looked towards Gunn and Wesley, quite confused. She thought SHE was supposed to be the crazy one.
“‘Tempest’?”
Wesley nodded gravely, shifting his eyes towards Angel, who was slamming the fridge door and grabbing the still bow-wrapped bottle of Scotch off of the counter.
“‘Chic’?”
“This is messed up,” Gunn noted, watching Angel take a tall swig from the bottle, “...what the hell happened to these two?”
“Shut up, all of you!”
Standing beside Fred, Cordelia seemed to be deep in thought. “God, this is all so familiar! Where do I..?”
At length, Cordy snapped her fingers loudly and a strobe of recognition flashed on her face. “OhmiGod! I’ve got it! Tempest and Chic! On Your Own!”
A general silence fell across the lobby. “On WHOSE own?” Gunn asked, annoyed, “...and who’re Tempest and Chic?”
“On Your Own, doofus,” Cordy fired back, “...it was a TV show. Rebecca Lowell’s TV show? Way to know the particulars of the case, Sherlock.”
“All right, all right. So I don’t know my must-see teevee. But what’s her show got to do with...”
“Don’t you get it? Tempest and Chic are two of the characters from On Your Own! Rebecca played Raven, but there were, like, nine other characters besides her.”
Glancing briefly up from her simulated sobbing, Buffybot looked forlornly at Cordelia. “What are you talking about, Celeste? Is Raven here?”
Cordy looked aghast. “Oh, I am SO not Celeste! Have you seen that girl’s hair?”
“Good Heavens...”
Wesley stepped closer, examining both Buffybot and Angel now with an almost clinical fascination. “Are you suggesting that Angel and the Buffybot have somehow become convinced that they’re these selfsame fictional characters? From Rebecca Lowell’s program?”
“Why are you always so slow on the uptake, Wes? Darn straight that’s what I’m suggesting!”
Staring at Buffybot, a thought suddenly occurred to Gunn. “Hey, I saw something like this in Sunnydale over the summer! When I met the ‘bot...magic spell made the whole town think they were someone else.”
“Really?” Fred looked fascinated. “Characters from a teevee show?”
“No, it was...”
Gunn suddenly caught himself, running a hand over his head and looking away, mildly embarrassed. “No, it was something else.”
“It would almost certainly have to be magic,” Wesley agreed, “...I’d say we have a clue as to what motivated Miss Lowell’s kidnapping, at the very least. Perhaps someone decided to make the fiction into a reality.”
“Holy negative reality inversion...you mean someone wanted to turn Rebecca into her character? For really real?”
Wesley nodded back at Fred. “Angel and Buffybot must have gotten caught in the mystical crossfire, so to speak. At least, that’s the best theory I’ve got so far.”
Gunn looked sceptical. “So how come the ‘bot still knows me? She called me Charles.”
Cordelia shook her head. “There’s a character on the show named Charles. Nerdy platonic guy who never gets the girl. Guess she’s cast you as him in the movie in her head.”
Gunn looked wounded. “Nerdy?”
“Hey, don’t you guys ever lighten up? Angel, waving his bottle about, smiled predatorially towards the group. “Come on, let’s get ripped!”
Buffybot sobbed again. “Oh, Chic!”
“We have to find out where they were tonight.” Wesley moved towards the lobby doors, waving for Gunn to follow. “We’ll check out the car, see if there’s any indication there. Fred, Cordy, see if you can’t get anything out of our...guests.”
“I don’t remember volunteering for crazy people duty!”
Cordelia glared at Wesley’s departing form with deep annoyance, until noticing the rather pathetic look Fred was suddenly fixing her with. She rolled her eyes.
“Not you, Fred. I meant the magically crazy people...remember them?”
Nudging her eyes towards Buffybot and her seemingly interminable simulated sobbing, Fred seemed to brighten up even as she got Cordelia’s gist. She smiled in relief, then looked towards the door.
“Hey, yeah! I didn’t volunteer for crazy...”
“They’re gone, Fred.”
Noticing the empty lobby before her, Fred became a bit crestfallen. Until Buffybot, wiping away nonexistent tears, looked her curiously in the eyes.
“Wendy? Why is Celeste calling you ‘Fred’?”
“Really think we’ll find anything here?”
Gunn looked across the car towards Wesley, who was futilely rummaging through the open trunk. The Englishman frowned.
“Doubt it. But in a situation like this...well, I haven’t really the foggiest how to proceed in a situation like this, so I’m kind of winging it. As it stands, you’ve likely got the most experience with whatever’s happening than the rest of us. What exactly did you do in Sunnydale?”
“Sorry, Wes. I was on the personality-challenged end of that bit of mojo. Your Watcher pal and friends did the spellbustin’...along with Buffybot.”
Wesley slammed the trunk shut. “Safe to say, I expect, that she won’t be similarly useful this time around.”
“Never can tell,” Gunn noted, finishing an uneventful search of the dash and climbing out onto the laneway, “...the girl definitely can be full of surprises.”
“Why do you look so surprised? It IS where we first met, after all.”
Buffybot stared earnestly at Cordelia, who seemed to be struggling a bit with what she’d just heard.
“Sorry, it’s just...trying to picture you and Angel...”
“Who?”
“...sorry. Trying to picture you and ‘Chic’ hanging out at the Happyland wishing well, well, it’s giving me tunnel vision to be honest.”
“I just wanted tonight to be special!” Buffybot pleaded, her artificial eyes forming sad little moons on her face, “...now that Raven and Bobby are finally together, I thought, maybe...maybe now would be OUR time, too.”
“Raven? Do you know where she is now? Her and ‘Bobby’?”
Buffybot furrowed her brow in exagerrated concentration. “Well, I haven’t seen them since they headed out East, of course. But she promised to call as soon as they got settled anywhere!”
Cordy slumped, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. Crazy people duty was getting her nowhere fast. She turned her head hopefully in the direction of Fred’s approaching footfalls.
“Any luck with Angel-Chic?”
Before even stopping, Fred shook her head mournfully. “Nope. He just keeps going on about how no one understands him and would they just let him live his life and the drinking’s not a problem, he can stop anytime he wants to. It’s kind of annoying, actually.”
Cordy agreed. “Yeah, Chic always was kind of a one note character.”
“Also? And I know it may be a bit unprofessional of me and I’m really sorry and all, but he took his shirt off and keeps thrusting his chest out, and I’ve been in a dark cave surrounded by monsters for five years and, quite frankly, it’s gettin’ pretty distracting.”
“Well, let’s stay focussed.” Cordelia waited until Fred lowered her eyes reproachfully, before sneaking a split-second peek herself. She hoped Fred didn’t hear the sudden, sharp breath she drew as a result. “Ridiculous as all this is, I’m starting to get a bad feeling about where it might lead.”
The lobby doors opened then, and Wes and Gunn returned from their unsuccessful search. Their faces told the tale well enough.
“Any luck here?”
Wes didn’t sound like he expected any great news, and he wasn’t disappointed in that respect. “Only the crappy kind. Near as I can remember, they seem to think the series finale just happened a couple of days ago, if that. From the sounds of it, the happily-ever-after didn’t ever as much as they’d planned.”
“All their sensory intake is getting filtered through the spell,” Fred added, glancing at Buffybot, who was off sulking in a corner and gazing longingly at Angel. “They see me as this ‘Wendy’ person, Cordy as Celeste...even the Hotel comes off to them as some beach-house hangout or somethin’. Even if they did know where this happened they wouldn’t be able to tell us in any way we could use.”
Gunn frowned. “My Momma always said TV was bad for you.”
“Sounds like a fairly sophisticated spell...it may take some time to cast a counter for it.” Wes thought for a moment, studying his wayward comrades. “Still...confusion aside, they don’t appear to be in any immediate physical danger.”
“You may wanna rethink that.” Cordelia nodded her head in Angel’s direction. “See tall, pale and shirtless over there? Right now he’s convinced he’s an alcoholic, sun-worshipping beach bum. And hours of angst-ridden teledrama notwithstanding, if we don’t get this case closed by dawn, Angel’s going to be the studliest pile of ash hanging ten on the California surf.”
“Right,” Gunn chimed in, growing concerned himself, “...plus the added fun of a super-powerful robot livin’ in a magic-induced psychotic fantasy...that just can’t be good.”
“And don’t forget Miss Lowell,” Fred added, “...Buffybot and Angel are with friends, at least. She’s stuck with whatever sleaze did all this!”
Whatever optimism may have made it’s way onto Wesley’s face vanished. “Points taken. We’ll have to start thinking of some way to restrain Angel if this goes on too long, and perhaps the Buffybot also. Cordelia, I could use you on the net. You said that the fans of these shows could become obsessive...let’s see if we can’t narrow down a list of suspects from them.”
“On it.”
As Cordy rose to make her way towards the computer, Wesley started to look a touch lost. “Beyond that...I’m open to suggestions.”
“You guys can be so totally lame it makes my teeth hurt,” Angel suddenly taunted, taking another shot from his bottle and lurching towards the staircase, “...I’m goin’ upstairs to wax my board.”
Wesley suppressed a cringe. “Dear God, I hope that wasn’t a metaphor.”
Happily missing the inference, Fred raised a coy hand. “I...I think I may have an idea. I might be able to find out where they went tonight.”
“She shoots, she scores!” Gunn beamed widely. “I love a lady with a plan.”
“Sort of a plan,” Fred replied, smiling cautiously. Then she looked away from Gunn, towards the mechanical girl leaning on the front desk, head resting glumly in her hands as she mooned over Angel’s retreating form.
“But I’ll need Buffybot’s help.”
An hour later, Wesley slumped down the stairs, looking exhausted. Cordelia spared him a glance and, sizing his state up pretty quickly, jabbed a thumb towards the fresh pot of coffee on the machine. He gave a small note of relief as he headed towards his prize.
“How’s it going up there?”
Pouring as tall a mug as he could manage, Wesley tried to get his second wind going. “I appear to be ‘Gus’, the proprietor of the local ‘power juice’ concession-slash- happening nightspot, live music venue and general swell hangout. It’s about the unlikeliest locale I’ve ever heard of, and I’ve been to parallel dimensions.”
Surfing away, Cordelia couldn’t help a small wince of sympathy. “Gus, huh? Tough gig. At least I got a headliner.”
“Other than that,” Wes continued, frowning at Cordy’s barb only slightly, “...Fred’s almost ready, although Gunn and I have our hands full keeping Angel’s poorly written para-persona in check. Bloody writers. How are you faring?”
“Well, I’m wondering how Willow stayed sane after all those years surfing this crap, that’s for sure. There’s some weirdos out there that make LA’s demon underworld look like a Quaker barn-raising. Exhibit A? The all-girl fanclub of one John Westin Anderson, aka Chic. There’s more than 3000 of the little troopers, according to their website. They call themselves...wait for it...‘Chiclets’.”
Wesley’s face contorted quickly into a grimace of supreme distaste, one which Cordy quite understood. She returned to her screen.
“Then there’s the innumerable slavering fanboy shrines to Rebecca...sorry, ‘Raven’, herself. Fanfiction and fanlistings and mailing lists, chatboards and tributes and infanities...what the Hell is an ‘infanity’, even? I ask you!”
Glancing over Cordy’s shoulder, Wesley took a quick look at some of what she was referring to, coming up empty for an explanation. She swivelled towards him in evident frustration.
“Is no one out there getting any anymore? Is that the problem? Because this is just creeping me out is what it’s doing!”
“Patience, Cordy. We’ve handled our share of unnatural entities before...although I admit, this lot is rapidly testing my resolve.”
“And my gag reflex.”
“Any progress narrowing down a likely suspect among this flotsam? I know it’s quite a haystack, but...”
“Actually, one name does keep popping up.” Dragging her mouse over a scrolling list of bookmarks, Cordelia selected a link that brought her to a bulletin board, for a group calling themselves the Ravenettes. She scrolled down for a moment and pointed out a group of posts.
“See this? I found it when I was skimming through all the crap about candlelight vigils and prayer quilts for Rebecca after news of the kidnapping broke. A few people were asking about this one guy who goes by the handle ‘Ravenlover’. Seems that, up until a day or so ago, he ran the most, and most of the earliest Raven-dedicated websites on the net. A big fish in an extremely geeky pond.”
Wesley read the posts with growing interest. “Up until recently, you said..?”
Nodding, Cordelia flashed a cheshire smile. “Seems Rebecca’s biggest fan eighty-sixed all of his sites within the last forty-eight hours. No word, no explanation. I’ve done a little snooping on other boards and chatrooms about this guy. People think his sites were great and all, but him? Let’s just say the fanboy didn’t have many fans to call his own.”
“The deuce, you say? The timing’s certainly damning...he sounds like a good place to start our search.”
“I could try and track him down through his provider, ask around...”
“That can wait. I’d like you upstairs with Fred right now, if you don’t mind. She may need help distracting Buffybot when she begins, and none of us know this program and it’s characters as well as you.”
Sighing, Cordelia pushed away from her desk. “That’s what I get for vegging in front of the tube during high school...decoy duty for a schizoid robot. I could have been a lobbyist by now if I’d been doing my homework more...”
“You wouldn’t have liked it,” Wesley noted offhand, “...too many Kothka demons.”
Gunn, meanwhile, was busily boring two deep, sizzling holes in Angel’s face...or at least, he would have if looks could kill. As it stood, Angel was safe for now. And Gunn was quite sure he was in some sort of Hell dimension.
“A guy like you just wouldn’t underSTAND, Charlie. Life for you, it’s all in your books and stuff. But me..man, I just gotta get out there and LIVE, you know what I’m saying? Screw what anyone thinks, what some stuffy snobs say I’m ‘supposed’ to be. They don’t know me! YOU don’t know me! I mean, I love Tempest...I guess I love her...but sometimes, life just calls you, y’know? And man, when it does, I just HAVE to answer. It’s like it’s bigger than me. You know what I’m saying?”
Gunn continued his piercing glare all the way through Angel/Chic’s latest diatribe. He’d endured far, far more of it by now than he cared to recall. This case couldn’t get solved fast enough for his money.
“I am gonna mock you mercilessly about this when we get you de-possessed, you know that, don’t you? Not one shred of mercy. That’s a promise. And put your damn shirt back on already!”
Angel only laughed a patronizing laugh. “Man, you’re too much sometimes. Have I told you what it’s like, out there on the waves? When it’s just you, your board, and the water, like God just dropped you into his own private pool?”
Never, Gunn promised. I am never watching television again.
“I never knew you were so into computers, Wendy. You always seemed so, y’know, down to earth. Does that make sense?”
Fred cast a sideways glance at Buffybot, who was fixing her hair in a mirror. She’d been doing that a lot over the last hour, and had even tried to have a go at Fred’s coif once or twice. So far, she’d escaped the intended makeover.
“About as much as any of this,” Fred replied, fairly honestly. “And hey, a girl has to try new things sometimes. Computers, quantum mechanics, banana pancakes...keeps things excitin’ and new. Dont’cha think?”
“I guess...”
Buffybot/Tempest didn’t seem to really be paying attention, which suited Fred just fine. She had her laptop ready to go, and was now just waiting for Cordelia to join her to make her move. One way or another, it probably wouldn’t take long. But all this play acting, pretending to be this ‘Wendy’ person, well, it was...
...okay. Fred had to admit with a slight hidden grin, the play-acting was darn fun.
“Well look who’s here! If it isn’t my good friends Wendy and Tempest!”
Cordelia strode smartly into the room, face full of the fakest smile she could manage. “Look, everybody, it’s me, Celeste! With much improved hair AND wardrobe, even!”
Fred snickered at Cordy’s thinly-veiled contempt for the situation, quietly motioning with her eyes for her to sit opposite Buffybot. Taking a long breath, Cordy hunkered herself down as directed, fixing the addled robot with a wide-eyed stare.
“Golly, I really love what you’ve done with YOUR hair, Tempest. Not at all like you were a robot who fights vampires.”
“Thank you!” Buffybot beamed, a vaguely disquieted look crossing her face within moments.
“I think...”
“And how are YOU doing, dear old Wendy? Ready and raring to go with that exciting new project of yours, I hope? Oh, how I do dearly hope...”
“All systems ready to go, Cor...umm, Celeste. You two just go ahead and have some, y’know, girl talk. Pretend like I’m not even here.”
“Lucky.” Another deep breath, this one mostly to power the forced smile. “So, Tempest. What’s on that oh-so fictional mind of yours these days?”
With melodramatic flourish, Buffybot dropped her hands down into her lap. “Oh, Celeste, I’m just so worried about...”
“...Chic, I know.” Cordelia sounded less than sympathetic, as the faux grin fell from her face in record time. “That’s all you’re EVER worried about, seems to me. Not that it gets old at all.”
“But Celeste, you KNOW how much I love him! We’re meant to be, I know we are! Just like you and Jeremy.”
Cordelia had to strain her memory for a moment, but the image finally came to her. Jeremy, some mid-season one-time fling Celeste had had a few years back. After that, she never stopped talking about their ’special, perfect love’. Neither, apparently, could any of the fans, judging from the doting websites she’d discovered tonight. She couldn’t for the life of her remember where he’d gotten himself written off to...the army, or peace corps or some such crap.
“Right, Jeremy...oh, how I do miss him. Jeremy, sweet Jeremy...”
Can’t believe I used to want to do this for a living, Cordelia thought grimly.
“Then you know how I feel,” Buffybot continued, ignoring the rolling of Cordelia’s eyes, “...I just want to be there for Chic, but he’s so...well, you know how he gets. Like he has to take on the whole world by himself, and...”
Buffybot turned suddenly, just as Fred yanked her hand away from the back of her neck. She smiled innocently.
“Sorry, I was just...just fixin’ your tag-thingy. It was popping out.”
“Oh...all right.” Buffybot seemed a little unconvinced. “Sorry, Wendy, I didn’t mean to be so jumpy, it’s just...well, after what happened between you and Celeste that time...”
Fred looked confused, checking over in Cordelia’s direction. Cordy looked annoyed.
“The obligatory ‘lesbian fling’ episode,” she sighed, “...bet you a hundred bucks a man wrote THAT little misadventure.”
“Oh dear!” Fred blushed momentarily, especially given the semi-patronizing smile Botty/Tempest was giving her. She cleared her throat.
“Well...well, I’m sure that was just a glitch or...what d’you call it? Phase? A phase, that’s it. Or an experiment! Yeah, like, like, like tree-bark tacos! ‘Cause boy, as experiments go, that one sure was a bust. Although I think I was on to something near the end there...”
Cordy glared sternly at her rambling co-worker. “I thought we were pretending you weren’t here, Wendy dear. Things to do, and all that..?”
Suddenly recalling her plan, Fred snapped back to attention. “Right! Right, you guys...girl talk, right. Working...”
Turning back to her laptop, Fred chastised herself for losing focus like that. Although she spared a grateful smile that Buffybot hadn’t noticed her plugging in to the dataport in the back of her neck. In her current state as ‘Tempest’, she likely wouldn’t even be receiving any of the usual alarms or alerts about Fred’s unauthorized entry.
Of course, she wasn’t in yet. She’d made the initial connection, but now came the hard part. Trying to hack her way into Buffybot’s memory to get a look at her files from the previous evening, and find out where she and Angel got into all this mess. The problems were several...Fred had no idea how many layers of security Buffybot had protecting her main memory core, or if it would even be possible to access such files in her present condition. Not to mention that Buffybot was probably the most advanced AI on the planet, and Fred had spent the last five years in a place where the wheel was considered pretty high-tech. Computer technology back on Earth had almost caught up to the places Fred had already extrapolated to back in college...but not quite.
Fred cracked a grin as her fingers started flying across the keyboard, making the initial assault on Buffybot’s outer defenses. It was nice to feel useful.
“Love of your life, yadda yadda yadda. I’m getting that, okay. But face the facts, the guy’s a lush! There’s plenty of fish in the sea, girl. Some of them are even sober.”
Shaking her head sadly, Buffybot barely paid attention to Cordy’s advice. “You don’t know him like I know him, that’s all. He’s got such a strong, loving heart...sometimes we have this connection that’s just...it’s the most amazing thing ever. Like I’m not a whole person until I’m with him. You know?”
Cordy stared blankly forward. “This show didn’t seem so stupid back in high school...”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind. Listen, you don’t need a man to feel complete, all right? Look at me...no man. Okay, a ghost, but that’s it. And hey...complete!”
“But Jeremy...”
“Oh, screw Jeremy and the horse he rode out on! I’m movin’ on. Sisters are doin’ it for themselves and all that crap. Am I getting through to that magic-whammied skull at all?”
Buffybot looked back at Cordelia, her head edging backwards just a hair. She looked half confused, half wary. Cordelia scowled.
“No, I am not hitting on you,” she barked, answering ‘Tempest’‘s unasked question, “...GOD, I hated that episode.”
“I’m in!”
Fred’s shout turned both Buffybot and Cordelia’s heads, Cordy especially wearing a mask of distinct relief at the news. “It’s about time. I’m running out of material over here.”
“In where?”
“I made it past her security protocols...I think I got a little lucky. Downloading as much of her memory files from the past 24 hours now as I can, but they’ll fill my hard drive in no time. If our luck holds...uh-oh.”
Cordelia leaned past Buffybot, who looked baffled. “What ‘uh-oh’? Seriously, I’m gonna strangle her in a minute...”
Fred started typing furiously again, but it was no use. “Dang! I’m out.”
Giving her keyboard one last pound of frustration, Fred turned to Cordelia. “Some automatic security system kicked in once I started downloading...shut me out but good. Probably rewriting itself to protect it’s data from intrusion again. Botty told me she had adaptive programs like that. I won’t be able to get in again.”
Cordelia looked nervous. “Do you think you got enough while you were connected?”
“We’ll know soon enough. Won’t take long to check what I got. Hopefully, one of the files I managed will tell us what we need to know.”
“You two are acting pretty strange,” Buffybot noted with overemphasized emotion, “...you haven’t been drinking, have you? Because that’s the last thing Chic needs to see.”
Fred and Cordy rolled their eyes in unison. After a second, Fred reached a sneaky hand behind Buffybot’s neck, pausing momentarily. With a shrug, she at last yanked her connection cord out and popped Botty’s dataport shut. The robot turned again, staring with wide eyes.
“Wendy!”
“Sorry,” Fred offered half-heartedly, “...phase.”
“That’s it. That must be where it happened.”
Fred pointed towards a blurry image of a house on her computer screen, which Wesley was peering at with interest over her shoulder. Cordelia was nearby, sipping a coffee.
“Are you sure, then?”
Dropping her shoulders, Fred glanced back at Wesley. “Sure as I can be. The time-code on the file makes sense, and this is the latest image I got. If this ain’t the scene of the crime, it’s somewhere nearby.”
Wesley hmm’ed, then studied the image closer, squinting. “I know the area. About an hour from here. Sparse population, rural, not much traffic to speak of. Good hiding place.”
Fred looked impressed. “You know all that?”
“Well, they didn’t put me in charge for my wit and charm.”
“That’s for sure,” Cordelia felt compelled to add, taking some wind out of Wesley’s sails, “...so let’s saddle up already.”
Wesley straightened up. “We’ll need a few things...weapons, charms to protect us from the spell. And someone will have to remain behind, keep an eye on our two-dimensional friends.”
Pausing, Wesley looked about. “Where’s Buffybot?”
Cordy jerked her head upwards. “Left her crying in her room,” she said nonchalantly, “...it’s great. You just say the wrong thing, and bang! She’s off on another jag for a good twenty minutes. I’d forgotten what a little drama queen Tempest was”
Fred shifted awkwardly. “I dunno...that sounds a little heartless, don’t you think?”
“Oh, please. She’s a fictional character. It doesn’t matter what you do to her.”
“Do to who?”
Gunn barrelled down the stairs two at a time, joining the others. He looked a touch disoriented. “We got a plan or what?”
“Getting there,” Wesley answered, “...how’s ‘Chic’?”
“The surf god’s takin’ a little power nap. And about time...the glare off his lily-white chest was startin’ to make me see spots.”
“Very well. Cordy, collect a few road weapons...we aren’t sure what lengths our kidnapper might have gone to.”
“Check. Crossbows and knives for everyone.”
Wesley nodded. “I’ll prepare a couple of charms. Gunn, Fred, I’m afraid you’ll have to...”
“Don’t SAY it!” Gunn protested, “...you’re NOT makin’ me stay here with 90210, are you? Why would you play me like that?”
Wesley looked truly sympathetic, but resolved. “I’d stay myself, but there may be magic to work when we find Miss Lowell. And should Angel require restraining before we’re done, well, you’re the one I need for that job.”
Gunn knew when he was beaten. “Gotcha. Okay, I’m babysitting. But we’re all clear on this...when you put them back to normal, there’s no mercy. We get that, right?”
Cordelia high-fived enthusiastically. “Right there with you, brother.”
“Let’s not dawdle,” Wesley interjected with resolve, “...remember, Angel and the Buffybot aren’t the only victims of this spell. And who knows what Miss Lowell is being subjected to at this very moment.”
“I’ll beat you...I will!”
“Over my dead body!”
“Try and stop me, you..what are you...no!”
“YES!”
Phil made a desperate spin, but was too late. The tiny ball sailed past his foosball goalie and into the pocket, for the third time in a row. Rebecca leapt up in giddy victory.
“Wahoo! Game over! Who’s the man, huh?”
Phil smiled conciliatorily as ‘Raven’ cheered his defeat. “I never could beat you at this, Raven.”
Rebecca smiled, settling down and walking towards Phil, laying her arms atop his shoulders. “Well...you can beat me at other things later on. If I let you.”
“Oh really? Let’s hope I still feel like playing.”
“Don’t tease!” Rebecca pouted, then stared dreamily into Phil’s eyes. “Bobby, I can’t believe we made it. Just the two of us. After all this time...”
“We were meant to be, sweetheart,” Phil told Rebecca, meaning every word, “...do you want to watch some tv? I can fix you a smoothie.”
“Man, they’d better get this case closed ASAP, cause I’m telling you, I can’t take much more of this action.”
Peering up from her laptop in the hotel lobby, Fred watched as Gunn circled aimlessly, on edge. “They are a bit much,” she agreed, the thought sending her mind off in it’s usual thousand and one directions. “Still, it’s almost better that they’re all fighting and crying and stuff. Y’know, as opposed to the alternative.”
“Alternative?”
“Well...they’re supposed to be sweeties on this show, right? Tempest and Chiclet?”
“Just ‘Chic’,” Gunn corrected, “...not that that’s an improvement.”
“Right. Well, I mean, if they were being all...snuggly, with one another, as it were, ‘they’ actually being Angel and Buffybot...”
Gunn made a sour face at the thought. “Right. Angel’s been having troubles enough adjustin’ to the Bot as it is. He and her started knocking magic boots together, spell or no, the man would definitely slip a gear.”
Fred nodded, and the two of them spent a moment in silence before Gunn straightened up and made for the stairs.
“I’m just gonna go check on those two. Make sure no boots are, you know, getting knocked behind closed doors. I won’t be long.”
Gunn darted upstairs, leaving Fred behind. Staring up, then at her laptop, then finally nowhere in particular, Fred quietly wondered if ‘knocking boots’ meant what she thought it did.
“Knock knock...”
Gunn creaked the door to Buffybot’s room open, noting that the poor robot was so out of her regularly programmed personality that no ‘who’s there’ was forthcoming. Instead she just sat there on the bed, gazing with wide eyes at the window. Gunn’s entry only slightly distracted her.
“Come in, Charles.”
At least he got a convenient character name, Gunn thought with the barest hint of gratitude. He left the door ajar behind him as he made his way to Buffybot’s side. He was glad to see no sign of Angel...although the concentrated sadness on the robot’s face WAS tugging at his heart strings just a little. He was, he had to say, awfully fond of the little machine.
“Hey, girl. How’re you doing?”
Buffybot sniffled momentarily as Gunn sat himself down beside her. “Oh, Charles, I just don’t know. Everything’s so crazy.”
“I’ll second that. Well don’t you worry. A little luck, this’ll all start making a little more sense in about an hour or so.”
“I hope so...I really do. I just don’t know how much more of this I can take!”
Gunn smiled weakly. “Said somethin’ similar myself just now.”
Heaving a mighty sigh, Buffybot dragged her eyes away from the window and down to the ground. “Maybe Celeste was right after all. Maybe...maybe Chic really isn’t the guy I thought he was. I was so sure...”
Definitely not, Gunn thought, amused. “You could probably do better,” he noted with a grin, “...you want my opinion.”
Buffybot smiled softly, edging closer towards Gunn. “You’re always so good to me, Charles. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?”
“Knowing these kinda shows, probably not. But I forgive you.” Gunn started to rise. “I should get goin’...”
Before he could stand, Buffybot reached a quick hand out, slipping it around Gunn’s wrist. “Please don’t. Please...stay. Don’t leave me all alone.”
Gunn rolled his eyes. Cordy did say Tempest was a drama queen. Reluctantly, he sat back down beside her. It was only after a moment of blessed silence that he noticed how much closer she suddenly was to him.
He turned. Buffybot was staring into his eyes with the same overtly romantic fervour she’d been gazing at the moon with moments ago, and Gunn suddenly came over very, very nervous. He’d better do some fast talking, he realized.
“Uhh...” was, unfortunately the best he could come up with just now.
“Charles,” Buffybot cooed, reaching a hand up to lightly touch Gunn’s cheek, making him jump, “...you told me once that you loved me. That you always would. Do you think...”
“Whoa!”
With a burst of energy, Gunn sprang to his feet, holding a pair of halting hands up towards Buffybot. “Hold on! What do you mean I love you? I told you..?”
“...that you were in love with me,” Buffybot finished, earnest. She rose to her feet. “Maybe I should have listened harder.”
Gunn started backing away, but Buffybot deftly wrapped her arms around his neck before he got far. She was suddenly inches away from him, and he swallowed hard.
“Cordelia definitely did NOT mention this little subplot to me. Girl’s gonna get an earful, you better believe...”
“I just don’t want to be alone anymore, Charles,” Buffybot implored, edging closer. “Please...just let me try and love you like I always should have!”
A flash of annoyance settled Gunn’s momentary nerves. “What kind lame-ass show IS this, anyways? All night you’re moanin’ about surfer-boy like he’s Romeo to your Juliet, now you’re all over the platonic guy at the drop of a hat?? Sure, I’m better looking, but...”
“Oh, Charles!”
Pushing forward, Buffybot pressed her lips into Gunn’s, forcing a passionate kiss onto him. She held him tightly, making Gunn cringe slightly with the brunt of her robotic strength starting to come to bear. He almost hoped Fred would...
“Hey!”
Buffybot released Gunn immediately at the sound of the shout from the door. Gunn took a deep breath in relief, until his senses fully returned and he recognized exactly whose voice it had been. He slowly turned, and saw Angel, livid, staring back at him. It was of precious little relief to Gunn that the man had at least finally put a shirt back on.
“What the Hell’s going ON in here??”
“That’s it,” Wesley whispered, pointing though a series of bushes towards a nearby house, “...that’s the home Fred picked out of Buffybot’s memory. Rebecca and her captor must be inside.”
Crouching at his side, Cordelia tightened her grip on her crossbow. “They’d better be. I don’t plan on going home to the dysfunctional duo tonight.”
“Let’s get closer. Is your charm on?”
Cordelia fingered the slippery gem around her neck. “Roger. Let’s go.”
The two of them darted across the street towards a stand of trees in the house lot, sticking to the shadows as best they could. They arrived without incident, and Wesley pulled a small binoculars out of his shoulder bag, scanning the house. The lights were on.
“Anything?” Cordelia whispered urgently, trying to remain hidden while straining to sneak a peek at the same time. Wesley tried to motion for her to stay still.
“Nothing yet. There’s a strange orb inside one of the rooms...could be a spell loci.”
“Or a pet rock. Find us some perps already! My toes are cramping.”
“Hold on, I just saw...there! A boy. Probably early twenties or so.”
Cordelia wriggled about, peering awkwardly over Wes’ shoulder. “And Rebecca? Is she..?”
“She’s there.” Wesley paused, staring forward for a moment before passing Cordelia the glasses for a look. She snapped them up quickly, squinting through them towards the house. She immediately saw Rebecca Lowell, laughing and stroking the head of a shockingly ordinary looking fellow with bad hair. Cordy cringed.
“Gotta be our guy,” she declared, scanning the other windows. “Any guards you can see?”
Wesley shook his head. “They appear to be alone.”
“That’s a little fishy, isn’t it?” Cordelia lowered the glasses, concerned. “I mean, no defenses at all? That’s a little too convenient.”
“We’re inside the defenses right now,” Wesley corrected. “See that pinkish glow on your charm gemstone?”
Glancing down, Cordelia saw the shine in question. “That glow,” Wes continued, “...means the spell is active all around us right now. Take that necklace off and you’d be...”
“...Celeste? Gotcha. Charm stays put. I’m all in favour of accessorizing. So what do we do?”
“I have an idea. Let’s get closer...and keep an eye out. There may be some other safeguards we’ve missed.”
Cordelia furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about, Gus?”
Wesley all but spun about, a flash of panic on his face. Cordelia wore a king-size smile.
“Kidding.”
“How could you do this to me, Tempest? How COULD you?”
Buffybot backed away, looking scared and confused as Gunn tried to figure out a way to defuse the ridiculous situation he was suddenly in.
“Let’s all calm down now, all right? Take a deep breath. Even if you don’t actually need to breath.”
“And YOU!”
Angel thrust an accusing finger towards Gunn. “You talk to me like you’re my friend, and then try and steal my girl when I’m away? Just who do you think you are, huh?”
“Oh Chic, please don’t be angry! It’s my fault!”
Gunn motioned Buffybot back. “Ain’t nobody’s fault! No fault here, ‘cept for some crazy tv-star-kidnapping magician somewhere. So let’s everybody just take it easy.”
“Take it EASY? You’re telling me to take it easy when I walk in and see...man, I can’t BELIEVE this! Tempest, why, baby, why?”
Lurching forward, Buffybot all but brushed Gunn aside like a doll. “Maybe I was tired of being treated like crap, Chic, you ever think of that? Maybe I wanted someone who would treat me right! Like a woman...I’m a woman, Chic, and I have feelings! Real feelings! Something YOU wouldn’t know about!”
“Okayyy, now,” Gunn soothed, sidling up beside the quarreling ‘lovers’, “...let’s not say anything we’ll regret later.”
Angel fumed, but his face seemed to soften after a beat. “Look, Tempest...I know I’ve made mistakes...I’ve screwed up, all right? Maybe I’m not perfect. But you know how I feel about you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
Turning, Gunn flashed Buffybot a smile. “Man’s reaching out to you, Tempest.”
‘Tempest’ seemed unimpressed. “No, Chic, I don’t know how you feel! I know what you’ve said, over and over. But they’re just words! I can’t live off words, Chic. I need more than that...I need love, real love! Not just a few good intentions in between benders.”
Gunn inhaled sharply between his teeth. “Oooo, that’s harsh. Chic?”
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry! I need to show you what you mean to me, I know! It’s just...you’re everything to me, Tempest. I need you! I need you so much it...it scares me. Can’t you see that?”
Grinning, Gunn nodded with satisfaction. “That sounded damn sincere. From the heart, even. Sounds to me like...”
“You shut the hell UP!”
Before he could move, Gunn was caught hard in the cheek by a fast fist from Angel, sending him spinning across the floor and onto the bed, where he promptly bounced onto the floor, out cold. Buffybot gasped, running down to check on him. Angel just stood, dazed.
“Charles!”
Buffybot cooed over Gunn’s fallen form, and Angel staggered dumbly forward. “God...Charlie, I’m sorry, I...I didn’t MEAN...”
Buffybot turned and glared up at Angel. “Are you HAPPY now, Chic?”
Angel stared back, stunned. “I’m sorry...I just got so angry...”
“That’s you, isn’t it, Chic?” Buffybot sniffled back a few pretend tears, glaring defiantly. “Never satisfied unless you’re hurting people. Especially the ones you say you love.”
Emotions flashed across Angel’s face as he looked down at Gunn’s still body, and Buffybot. At last, he stepped back, shaking, then turned and ran from the room. Buffybot watched, her defiance fading in an instant.
“Chic! Chic, wait!”
In a flash she was up and chasing him down the stairs, leaving Gunn to moan softly into the carpet by himself.
Fred put her laptop into standby and headed for the stairs, mildly concerned about the raised voices that she was starting to catch drifting down. It was probably just Angel or Buffybot being all bad-tv-show-ish, of course. But then she swore she’d heard a crash or something, and thought she’d better go see if Gunn needed any help.
She was nearly at the base of the stairs when she heard the footsteps approaching. A moment later Angel came tearing down the stairs, looking distressed. He fairly flew past Fred, leaping to the floor and heading for the lobby.
“Angel?”
There was no answer, and a second later he was nearly at the doors. Fred yelled again.
“Chic?”
Angel hit the doors without looking back, and a second later Buffybot came barrelling down the stairs after him, nearly knocking Fred over.
“Chic, wait! Stop!”
This time, Fred remembered the right name first time out, but got the same result.
“Tempest??”
Fred started after her two fleeing co-workers, when she suddenly remembered the third. And then she noticed that no more footsteps were approaching. She looked upstairs, nervous.
“Charles?”
A beat passed and nothing. Alarmed, Fred hurled herself up the stairs in search of Gunn, hoping that she was picking the right option. At least she knew Buffybot and Angel were all right for now...she just had to find out if the same was true for everyone.
Finally she came to the door of Buffybot’s room, almost falling as she screeched to a halt. She immediately spotted Gunn lying on the floor, a wave of fear driving her in and to his side.
“Charles!”
She shook him gently, rolling him onto his back. His cheek was reddened slightly but he was breathing. After a moment he started making a low moan, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, Charles...”
“Chic, please stop! Wait!”
At the edge of the front gate, Angel at last gave in to Buffybot’s shouts, shuffling to a stop. He didn’t look back.
“What do you want from me, Tempest? Just let me go. It’ll be better for everyone that way.”
Angel clenched his fists, a pained expression crossing his face. Behind him, Buffybot took a few short steps closer towards him.
“I can’t do that...you know I can’t. Sometimes I wish I could...”
“Why?” Angel turned suddenly, staring wild. “Why can’t you? Cut me loose! I’m no good, Tempest, I never was! You’re better off with Charles. You were right.”
Buffybot shook her head wistfully, coming ever closer. “You’re wrong, Chic. And so was I.”
Despite himself, ‘Chic’ glanced with hope towards Buffybot. “Wrong...how?”
“You said you needed me, Chic. And...and I need you, too. We need each other. Oh baby, I need you so much!”
Angel looked wantingly as Buffybot approached him, putting her hands on his cheeks. He stared at her, filled with love and regret.
“I’m so sorry for...for everything, Tempest. I love you. More than anything...more than the ocean, more than the whole damn world. Tell me I can make it up to you. I can change, I promise!”
“Don’t you dare,” Buffybot breathed, her lips brushing Angels’, “...don’t you dare change! I love you so much, Chic...”
“Tempest...”
Angel pushed forward, wrapping Buffybot in a passionate embrace. They kissed, stumbling together towards some trees in the front of the hotel. Before they arrived, Angel was shirtless yet again.
Wesley stared intently through the window, staring through the sights of the crossbow. Cordelia waited impatiently beside him.
“You’re sure the glowy ball is our target? It could just be some Hammacher Schlemmer
knicknack.”
“It’s a Vorcerian Orb of the Magis,” Wesley stressed, squinting, “...I’m positive. Destroy it, and the spell will shatter along with it. Trust me.”
“So shoot already. I could have done it just fine myself.”
“I have a little more experience with a crossbow than you, Cordy. No offense.”
Wesley didn’t see the less than understanding face Cordelia made in response, as he got the orb in his sight. He set the handle into his shoulder, adjusted for wind and trajectory, and remembered his Watcher weapons training. Feel the target. Feel the target.
“Feel the target...”
Cordelia sneered as Wesley mumbled to himself. “SHOOT the target, Wesley. Or you’re gonna feel my boot up your...”
“Sssh!” Wesley continued staring the orb down, then finally cracked a small smile, readying his trigger finger.
“Bullseye.”
Wesley squeezed...and nothing happened. There was an audible clicking noise, and Wes pulled the weapon away from his arm, baffled. Cordelia looked thunderstruck.
“Oh, for...the safety’s on, Wes. Gimme that.”
Before he could argue, Cordelia yanked the crossbow away form him and levelled it towards the orb, ignoring his hurt looks.
“Men.”
“Chic...oh, Chic!”
“Tempest...you’re so beautiful. I’ll never let you down again...”
Despite his claims, Angel was doing just that, physically lowering Buffybot down to the grass of the front lawn. Surrounded by the gate and trees, they were alone. Buffybot pulled at Angel’s remaining clothes.
“Oh, Chic..take me now! Be with me. Forever and ever.”
“Forever, Tempest baby...you’re the only one. I love you.”
“I’m sure I just...I was top marksman in my class at the academy...”
“Just watch and learn, Wesley.”
Cordelia brushed Wesley off, taking aim. Phil and Rebecca sat just a few feet from the orb, and Cordy spared the young man one quick contemptuous glance before her final aim.
“Buddy,” she muttered, squeezing the trigger softly, “...you are SO cancelled.”
A second later there were two loud crashes, as both the window and the orb shattered in the path of Cordy’s bolt. A flash of brilliant light briefly followed. Wesley and Cordelia instinctively shielded their eyes. As they did, Cordelia swore she heard a male voice screaming ‘no!’ over the chaos. She took that as a very good sign.
“Yes...yes! Make me a woman, Chic, make me...”
“You’re my girl, Tempest! I’ll always...always...”
Angel paused suddenly, a curious look passing across his face as he lay atop Buffybot on the Hotel grounds. He blinked a few times, staring down.
“...Buffy?”
Buffybot stared back up at Angel, a sudden rush of sensor data informing her electronic brain of her situation, and making temporary extrapolations to explain the downright bizarre memory files she was reading. Why had she been acting like..?
An alert flashed in Buffybot’s heads-up display from her decorum centers, and she glanced downwards. Her eyes widened, and she speedily yanked the sides of her shirt closed over her chest which...which was much more exposed publicly than she would, under normal circumstances, allow.
As she did so, Angel tumbled off of Buffybot, getting his bearings and trying to find his shirt. When he found it, he grabbed it fast, then looked back at Buffybot, who was now sitting up, buttoning her shirt with impressive speed. He looked devastated.
“...Buffybot,” he said, correcting himself. She offered him a weak smile, which was in no way returned. By now her logic processors had come up with a theory to explain hers and Angel’s incongruous behaviour of the last few hours.
“I think there was magic,” she offered. Angel didn’t look at her.
Yes, she thought to herself, straightening her top...definitely magic. That was all right then...wasn’t it?
“...did you SEE the way she decked that little creep? You can tell she works out.”
Wesley laughed as he and Cordelia entered the Hyperion lobby, an hour and a half after smashing the orb and ending the spell. He didn’t yet notice the forlorn faces awaiting them.
“Absolutely...little rotter’s lucky the police were on their way, I dare say.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t get a prison with cable...hey! Is everything normal again here? Sorry we didn’t call right away, but...”
Cordelia stopped, finally spotting Angel, Fred, Gunn and Buffybot, all seated glumly in the center of the room. Fred gave Cordelia and Wesley a sheepish nod in the affirmative. Gunn scowled, holding an icepack to his face. Angel and Buffybot didn’t move, sitting as far away from one another as they could apparently manage while still being in the same room.
Wes looked unconvinced. He was sure the spell was broken, but something was...
“Gunn, what happened to your face? Is everything all right?”
Gunn continued scowling, turning slowly to glare at Angel. Angel didn’t move.
“We had a bit of a fight,” Angel admitted, “...it was the spell. It’s over now. Right?”
Cordelia took a closer look at the faces before her, raising an eyebrow. “Case closed,” she said, glancing from Angel to Buffybot and back. “Are you guys sure nothing else...”
“We fought,” Angel stressed, casting a furtive, angry glance across the way, “...nothing else. It’s over.”
Buffybot, remembering quite clearly what Angel had so emphatically explained about an hour ago, looked up at Cordelia.
“We fought,” she agreed, smiling. She flashed a hopeful grin towards Angel, who quickly looked away. That gave her emotional centers a surge of guilt and sadness, which she was sure she didn’t like one bit, and she sagged her head downwards.
Buffybot accessed her programs, specifically her history file concerning dating Angel. She scanned it’s meager contents, deriving no joy from the perusal.
And then, with a sad little frown, she closed the file. Forever and ever.
ADDENDUM
Rebecca Lowell, star of On Your Own, crossed paths with Angel in the First season episode ETERNITY.
Kirlian photography can in fact do some of the things Buffybot was mentioning, or so I’m told. Very fascinating stuff.
Hammacher Schlemmer is a famed catalogue full of, well, stuff. People seem to go nuts for it.
Back to Season Two
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