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She's the One for Me	By : QueenB Category: > Buffy/Giles Views: 9319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Email: queenboadiceaoftheiceni@yahoo.com
Spoiler Warning: Season five for BtVS
Disclaimer: This belongs to Joss Whedon and the usual gang of idi…geniuses.
Pairing: B/G
Feedback: Do your worst—it can’t compare to my worst ;)
Notes: This is in response to a challenge from anti_SAS
Thoughts are shown in italics.

Warren hurriedly packed all his things. There wasn’t much; it had only been spring break, after all. He didn’t know whether Buffy Summers or April would come out on top from the fight he’d instigated. He only knew that either way there was going to be one dangerously powerful female after him. He didn’t intend to stay to see which of them won the slap fight.
He swung around and let out a startled yelp. Standing before him was a man with bleached blonde hair holding a box. “How, how’d you get in here?”
“Your mum let me in.” The man looked him up and down and was apparently unimpressed by what he saw. “I’m placing an order.”
Warren knew what he meant and his heart sank as he shook his head frantically. “No, no. I’m not making any more girls.”
“Sure you are.” Spike shoved the box he was holding at him. “Here’s your specs.”
Warren staggered as the box was pushed into his chest and peered into the contents. Inside were assorted women’s clothing, sexy lingerie and bits of jewelry. There was also a blonde wig and a picture of Buffy Summers. As he shot a terrified glance at the thug standing before him, Spike smiled at his understanding. “You’re gonna make her real good for me.”
__________
That had been weeks ago and the robot was coming along nicely. Spike made a habit of popping in unexpectedly to keep that Warren git on his toes and make sure he wasn’t slacking off. He also wanted to make sure she was exactly like Buffy. Every time he showed he had more and more suggestions to make.
But seeing her cobbled together from bits of wiring and fiber optics was unsettling to say the least. Warren picked up on his unease and subtly emphasized the inhuman nature of his creation every time Spike showed up just to get the vampire to leave.
He was terrified of the demon and hated him with a passion. Spike reminded him of the bullies who would shove his head down in toilets and give him swirlies in school except none of those overly muscle-bound morons had possessed fangs or a murderous temper. Spike had never actually laid a hand on Warren but he’d made it clear he’d drain Warren dry if he didn’t comply with his demands.
“How about this pair? Is this the right color?” He held up a pair of glass eyeballs for Spike’s inspection.
The vampire frowned and edged away slightly. “Yeah, they look about right.”
“Or how’s about these? Maybe they’re a closer match.” This pair he shoved practically under Spike’s nose.
The bleached blond growled. “I said the first’s okay.”
“Look, I just want to make sure it’s correct. Hazel’s a really hard color to match since they’re neither blue, green or b-brown. It also c-changes color according to what a person’s wearing, you know? You keep nagging me to get the details right. So are you sure the first is okay?” He rolled the balls around in his hand like marbles and held both sets up to Spike again.
“Are you hard of hearing or something? Use the first pair!” The vampire shoved him so the boy staggered and the eyeballs flew out of his hands and dropped to the floor.
“Geez! Now see what you did! These things are delicate. I can’t just buy ‘em at a novelty store, you know!” Warren got down on his hands and knees and scrabbled for the rolling bits of glass. “If they get a scratch, it could damage the robot’s visual acuity.”
He stood up with three of the glass objects and looked around for the missing one. “See if you can spot the other one, will you? I don’t want to give the robot a mismatched pair of eyes.”
Spike shuffled around and heard his foot knock against something that rolled across the floor. Stooping to pick it up, he clenched his teeth as he handed it over to Warren. The boy wonder snatched it from his hand and inspected it anxiously. Then he sagged with relief. “Good. No scratches. Okay, let’s see what these babies can do.”
He carefully inserted them into the eye sockets of the lifeless mannequin propped on the table. Carefully leaning it up, he ran to his computer and punched a series of keys. With a slight whirring sound the eyeballs swiveled in their sockets and then oriented on the vampire in the room. Warren made them follow Spike as he paced nervously, making certain to keep them trained on the demon at all times.
“What do you think? Do they pass muster? I mean, are they like her eyes?” Warren asked, his ferret-like gaze flitting between his creation and the vampire.
“Yeah, reckon they’ll do,” Spike muttered. That unwinking gaze from the robot was unnerving especially coming from a nest of tubes and wiring that looked nothing like a human face. “What’s that noise she makes when they move? I don’t want none of that when she’s finished. Can’t have the others twigging to what she is.”
“Sure. When the plastiskin’s put on, the noise from the servomotors will be completely muted. Human ears won’t be able to pick up on it at all. You probably won’t be able to hear it either,” Warren said absently.
He went back to puttering at the computer, muttering under his breath as he entered various commands in codes Spike couldn’t understand. When Spike actively terrorized the mortal, Warren hopped like a nervous rabbit. But when he got involved in the mechanics of building the thing the git seemed to forget that he was in the room. It was humiliating, really.
The eyes swerved to follow him again and Spike decided he’d had enough of Warren and his bleedin’ toy for one night. “Right, then. You keep up the good work. I’ll see you soon, eh, Warren?” He slapped the berk on the shoulder hard enough to make Warren flinch. But the dark-haired mortal didn’t so much as look up from his screen as the vampire left.
The concerns with the robot had kept him out of Buffy’s way. He’d secretly hoped she’d come crawling to him for help. However, the Slayer had kept her distance. Well, that was all right. It might do her some good to stew for a bit. Wouldn’t do to keep himself on call for her like he was a trained lapdog.
He’d nip into Willy’s for a pint. The joint was always good for a few laughs. Maybe he could let off some steam by starting up a poker game or a fight with one of the locals.
__________
Buffy shuffled and rubbed her neck tiredly. The Magic Box table wasn’t as roomy as the table in the old Sunnydale High School Library. She was sandwiched between Xander and Willow and their elbows occasionally bumped as they turned over another page.
“So, Buffy, how’s the Dawnster? She doing okay, since…” Xander couldn’t bring himself to finish. None of them had been able to talk about Joyce’s death. It was still too new and raw.
“She’s okay. Well, no, not okay. But she’s dealing. She’s at home with Tara,” Buffy answered.
“We put up major wards around the place. Glory or one of her little friends gets too close, they’ll go off like sirens,” Willow added.
“A hellgod intruder alert system. Good thinking, Willow.” Willow smiled slightly at her blonde friend’s praise and then bent over another page.
Giles sighed as he attempted to hide his exasperation. After putting Buffy through grueling and stupid tests, the Watchers Council had turned over everything they had on Glory—which, admittedly, wasn’t much. They knew she needed to leave this plane of existence at a precise time. They even knew what time it was. What they couldn’t say was where she’d do the ritual or how to stop her. How did one defeat a god anyway?
“Well, I’ve got nothing.” Xander closed his book with a decided slam. “Other than talk about bleeding the Key, there’s not much about Glory. All we know about her is that she’s loony and knows how to accessorize.”
“That doesn’t really make any sense, you know. It’s rather odd,” Anya said musingly.
Xander stared at his girlfriend. “Is this garden-variety oddness, Anya, or some specific odd we’re talking about? Don’t forget, we’re on the Hellmouth where you get your daily helping of oddness plus a heaping side order of wackiness thrown in.”
“I’m talking about this ritual that needs to be performed on the Key. If you think about it, it’s strange the monks would put the Key in a form that could be bled to death. You’d think they’d put it in something smaller, handier and non-bleeding like a toaster or iron or footstool. You know, an object that would be portable, difficult to lose and yet at the same time incapable of being exsanguinated. Putting the Key in the form of a teenaged girl seems irresponsible and rather stupid.” She noted everybody’s stare and shrugged. “I’m not saying I don’t like Dawn. I’m just pointing out a flaw in those monks’s basic plan, that’s all.”
“According to my sources, the monks wanted the Key to be something the Slayer would protect with her life. What better vessel than a younger sibling?” Giles murmured.
“Yeah, I’d hardly be likely to throw my life away on a kitchen appliance,” Buffy added dryly.
Anya clucked her tongue. “That’s the part I really don’t get. The Slayer risks her life on a daily basis and they want to give her an additional incentive to get killed. Dumb monks. That’s what a life devoted to chastity will do to you. It really screws up your thought processes.”
“Hmmm. Sex as an aid to increased intelligence. That’s a new wrinkle,” Giles said, sharing a glance with his amused Slayer.
She chuckled lightly and Giles felt something around his heart loosen. It was good to see Buffy display a sign of humor. Her mother’s death had hit Buffy hard. It seemed at times as if her life had been nothing but loss. Slayers normally gave up so much when they accepted their calling. Most of them did it willingly, believing blindly in the cause above all else—girls like Kendra who couldn’t even remember her parents much less mourn their loss.
But from the first his Slayer had demanded to keep her friends and her family. As much as he’d protested the inclusion of such, he knew that she was all the stronger for them. Since her mother’s death she had clung tenaciously to her sister in a way that he feared wasn’t altogether healthy. Even so, he understood all too well her fierce wish not to lose anybody else she cared for in her life.
Giles marked the last sheaf of papers at a relevant passage. The Watchers Council’s fount of knowledge was impressive and they did know more about Glory than they had before they arrived. But other than her godly status and the fact she needed the energy lodged in human brains to sustain her existence on this plane of existence, there was precious little to go on.
Could we starve her perhaps? Willow transported her to a distant place. If we can get her to hone her powers, maybe she can send Glory to a place so remote and devoid of human life, she would die of starvation or become too insane to pose a threat.
One look at the redheaded wiccan and he regretfully dismissed the idea. The last time she’d tried the teleportation spell, she’d lacked the control to ascertain exactly where the hellgod had wound up and the backlash from the enchantment had given her migraines and nosebleeds for almost a week. He had been alarmed enough to insist she go to the hospital for a checkup since such signs were often symptoms of brain damage. There was no way she could attempt another such spell twice without incurring serious internal injury. One person in their circle dead of an aneurysm was enough.
He turned over their options and his thoughts turned to Anya’s earlier complaint about the monks’ decision to place such a valuable object like the Key in a frail and fragile package. If Dawn’s existence were capable of such damage, then her removal would ensure the safety of the world and his Slayer. That’s what it ultimately came down to—destroying Glory or removing the Key.
Interrupting this thought, Xander stood and stretched. “Look, Buff, my eyes are about to bleed out of their sockets. I say we take a pizza break.”
“Good idea,” Willow said with a yawn.
“Speaking of bleeding, has anyone seen sight of Captain Peroxide?” Xander questioned. “Not that I miss him, mind you. He’s out of the picture and that’s the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it.”
Anya sniffed. “No and I’m glad he’s gone. The place always smelt nastily of smoke whenever he was in here. It tainted all the delicate floral candles we have for sale. Imagine, leaving one of his cigarette butts in one of our urns.”
“Still, it would be a good idea to know where he is for future,” Giles ventured.
“Why?” Buffy said sharply. “So we can have him come running in and demanding money at every turn?”
“No. I merely feel it would be prudent to know where he is at all times so as to make certain he’s staying out of trouble. Let’s not forget his treachery with Adam,” the Watcher pointed out.
“Oh no. Let’s rub salt in that wound as often as we can,” Xander grimaced.
“I say let’s not look a gift pony in the mouth. Spike is out of our hair for the time being. That’s one less nuisance we have to worry about,” Buffy said. She closed her book, marking the passage she was reading with a stray piece of paper. “Now how about that pizza?”
__________
Warren stood fidgeting from one foot to the other. Spike didn’t speak as he surveyed his creation and the short brunette male didn’t know whether that was a good sign or not. He eyed the door longingly as he planned his escape. If he got away from the vampire, he was leaving Sunnydale. He could go back to Dutton. Spring break was long over and he’d missed a lot of his classes but he’d have no trouble making them up. With his knowledge of robotics, he could write his own ticket.
The robot stood mutely, its eyes closed. The female form was dressed in a pink top and skirt with pleats. The ensemble was prevented from looking too girlishly cute by a short leather jacket that graced her upper body.
“This it, then? She’s finished?” Spike said lazily as he looked her over.
Warren nodded frantically. “Oh, yeah, yeah. S-she’s perfect, I swear. She has tons of real world knowledge, plus all the inside scoop you gave me about her friends and the Slayer moves. She’s even got the programming you asked for.”
“All the programming, right?” Spike’s voice turned insinuating.
The robotics genius let out a high-pitched, nervous giggle. “Yep, yep. All the, uh, uh, s-special stuff you wanted. She’s the complete package. You’ll really like her. Now you said I could go—”
The vampire reached out and snagged him effortlessly as Warren attempted to dart past him. “I don’t know that I’m a satisfied customer. So far all I’ve seen is a good-looking statue.”
Just then the robot’s eyes flew open. Sparkling hazel orbs locked unerringly on the vampire and a huge smile stretched her cheeks. “Oh, Spike! It’s you!” She threw herself at him and hugged him tightly as she kissed him hard.
When her lips parted, the vampire gazed into the glass orbs he had handpicked himself. “She’ll do.”
And she did. Constantly and in a variety of positions. The robot was everything the doctor ordered. She was tireless, eager, bold, passionate, limber, nubile and lusty as hell. Anything he wanted, she was up for. She never said no, she never played coy and best of all she sounded just like the Slayer. Sure, there were occasional lapses into computer speak but otherwise she was absolutely perfect. For four days and four nights, they never left the crypt.
Spike was bored out of his mind. The bot was everything he’d thought he’d wanted and she was entirely his. But she was just so damned predictable. She’d had several different programs in her circuit board but after awhile he knew them all. He knew whatever was going to come out of her mouth and he couldn’t stand it. He had his Buffy but there was no thrill of the chase or the idea of reaching for the unattainable.
This Buffy was just a plaything, after all, no better than a wind-up toy. There was no sparkle of the exchange of minds. Even the exchange of blows palled because it was just part of her programming instead of a real struggle. By the evening of the fifth day, he thought he’d go out of his mind with her relentlessly cheerful chirping. Telling her sharply to stay put, he decided to go out and see if he couldn’t catch sight of the true article.
__________
Spike strode purposefully through the streets of Sunnydale, his duster swirling around his heels. Before he realized it, he found himself headed in the direction of the house at Revello Drive. He was just in time to see the ex-demon and her whelp come from inside the house. He tried to pretend he was merely strolling by. “Well, looks like you’re taking your pet puppy for a walk, Aren’t there laws giving you a fine if you forget to put the pooch on a leash?”
“You ought to know, Chips Ahoy. Spike is a dog’s name, isn’t it?” Xander responded and Anya sniggered. Spike scowled and was about to make a retort when Xander continued. “The barrier’s still up here, Spike. So just toddle along home. There’s no demons for you to fight so your uselessness can continue.”
“Please. I’m far more important in a demon fight than you, boy, and you know it. Slayer’ll need me when the chips are down and you’re getting kicked around by every monster in sight.”
“Well, you haven’t been of much help lately, Spike. Xander told me how Glory head butted you when you found her in that hospital. Buffy had to stop a tire iron with her shoulder for all the good you did,” Anya snapped.
“Yeah, well, Buffy’s gang of losers hardly did any better. I think I did all right considering I was up against a god. I’m the only one strong enough to keep up with the Slayer and she knows it.”
“Sure. That really may makes up for chaining her to a wall and threatening to sic your ex on her like a rabid mutt. Guess dogs do travel in packs. Now if you’ll excuse us, Captain Peroxide, some of us have actual lives to get back to.” Anya and Xander pointedly shoved past Spike and proceeded to the car.
When Spike snuck a glance back at the house, Anya said, “I wouldn’t try it, Spike. The witches erected a magical wall. Any evil demonic entity approaches it and it goes off. It’s supposed to be an early warning system in case Glory shows. So I’d keep away from it if I were you. Oh, wait.” She turned to Xander. “Does Spike still count as evil? He has been rather less than convincing as a truly evil threat lately.”
Spike wasn’t about to let that slide. He was the Big Bad and they’d better remember it. “Hey, I am evil! I’m certainly more evil than an ex-Vengeance demon who’s lost all her powers.”
“Right. That’s why you’re here, pining at the doorstep of a Slayer who’s not even in town,” Anya sneered.
Spike blinked. “Not in town? Where is she?”
Xander grabbed her elbow. “Anya, honey, I thought you wanted to get home to our orgasms.”
“Of course. But since when do you talk about our orgasms? I thought you didn’t want me to mention them in public. I’m definitely getting mixed signals here,” Anya complained as Xander propelled her into the car.
Xander pushed her in and peered out at Spike as he turned the key in the ignition. He wasn’t sure how sharp vampire hearing was but he was taking no chances. Once both windows were up, he whispered in a low hiss, “Anya, Fangless out there is on a need-to-know basis and he doesn’t need to know Buffy is out of town with Giles. Got it?”
The ex-demon huffed. “Then why didn’t anybody tell me that in the first place?”
Xander shrugged as they drove off. “Because Spike isn’t important enough to mention even when we’ve got news that we’re not supposed to talk about in front of him.”
Anya shot him a glance. “You realize that sentence made absolutely no sense.”
“Just let it percolate for a bit, honeymuffin. I’m sure the meaning will seep in eventually.” He grinned and gunned the car, driving as fast as he dared from the Summers house.
__________
Spike stood and stared after the departing vehicle, shock and rage bubbling up to choke him. The Slayer had left town and none of those bastards had told him! Even the Nibblet had kept mum about it. That really hurt. He thought he’d regained some of her trust after he’d helped her try to resurrect her mother. Guess the ingratitude of this lot extended to her, too.
But it was the other part of the news that really got him seeing red. She was with the Watcher. That damned poncy bastard had gotten to her and decided to take her for a cozy little vac. How dare he? How could she? Did she forget she had a sister to take care of and a Hellmouth to patrol? What was wrong with the bint? If he still had his fangs, he’d tear into the Watcher when he got back, barrier spell or no.
He’d suspected that the Watcher had the hots for his Slayer. Something in the man’s eyes and tone when he’d slammed Spike into those shelves in the Magic Box had been more than Watcherly concern. He’d had the feeling the old man would rip his lungs out if the vampire ever got too close to her again.
There’d been whiffs of lust coming from the old man, too, when the Slayer was wearing some of her more scantier outfits. He didn’t think the Slayer returned the old prat’s affections. But then why’d she gone off on a trip with him when there was a lunatic goddess sniffing after her sister?
With icy clarity he recalled Joyce’s funeral. He’d been fond of her. She’d been a stand-up lady and had treated him well unlike the rest of Buffy’s crew. So it had been a supreme slap in the face when they’d held the funeral in broad daylight. Under a glaring hot sun, the older Summers woman had been laid to rest and he’d been forced to watch from the shelter of a nearby crypt as her body had been interred into the earth.
He’d snarled when he heard them speak one after the other about Joyce. Why couldn’t he be allowed to pay his respects? Joyce had liked him; she’d allowed him into her home. Well, she had until that unfortunate business on Valentine’s Day. But it was hardly his fault things had gone so badly. If the Slayer hadn’t been so stubborn, they could have made a go at things.
Then he’d witnessed that damned Watcher place an arm around Buffy and draw her body close. The tiny bint had leaned her head against his upper arm and relaxed into his hold as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It had taken all his self-control not to dash into the sunlight and tell the berk to get away from her.
Spike sagged against a tree and tried to think. All right, so the aged git had sunk his hooks into Buffy before he did. That made no difference. Spike could still get her. All he had to do was wait until Buffy made it back. Conveniently forgetting he was having the robot made to stand in for Buffy, he realized there was another use for the toy.
He lit a fag and sauntered towards his crypt. If that stodgy, aging git thought he could just whisk Buffy off and romance her, he had another think coming. Chip or no chip, he was still the Big Bad and nobody got in his way without a fight.
The bleached blond smiled as he jogged faster. Dawn was edging its way over the horizon and he would just manage to make it, the sunlight burning his heels, if he ran. The burning light, his burning rage, his yearn to feel Buffy’s flesh next to his own—it all coalesced into one hard knot of determination as he slammed the crypt door shut in sight of the new day.

TBC
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She's the One for Me