“Was it what you wanted?” Buffy asked.

    “What’s that matter?”

    “Spike,” she said, breaking character completely. “Do you actually want to be my slave?”

    Spike sat back and looked down at her. “Sometimes. Sometimes I want to be your slave, sometimes your master. Sometimes your enemy, sometimes....” He sighed and looked away. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

    Buffy sat up. “What do you want?”

    “Buffy... you know what I want....”

    “Skirt-girl.”

    “What?”

    “Spike-obsessed Buffy-bot.”

    All good humor dropped out of Spike’s face. “Don’t.”

    “Why not? You had it made–”

    “Out of desperation,” Spike snapped. “It was a mistake – you have no idea how much of a mistake.”

    Buffy gazed at him. “So you didn’t get any enjoyment out of it at all?”

    Spike looked at a loss for words for a long moment. “It was like drinking water for blood,” he said. “It filled me, but it couldn’t cure the hunger. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

    “But she wanted you,” Buffy said. “Only you.”

    “And she wasn’t real, was she,” Spike snapped. “Can we talk about something else?”

    Buffy got up and started putting on her clothes. Spike sighed. “And she’s off. Give my best to Dawn – oh, wait, you haven’t seen me. Never mind.” The scorn was sharp in his voice as he wrestled his chains off.

    Buffy finished buttoning her blouse, ran her fingers through her hair, and then turned back to Spike, who had just dumped the chains in the chest he’d taken them out of. “Well?” he asked. “Aren’t you gonna kick me in the head or something?”

    “Oh, Spike!” Buffy said, her eyes blank and distant, her voice vapid and cheery. “Don’t be so mean!” She pouted a little.

    “Huh?”

    “I want you, Spike. Your washboard abs and your bright blue eyes. I’m helpless against you, you–”

    Spike grabbed Buffy by the hair and glared at her. “Don’t make fun of me!”

    The vapid smile fell off Buffy’s face, replaced by something mischievous and sly. “Why not? This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

    “A long time ago,” Spike said. “I was... it was before you... before you....”

    “Died. I can say it, why can’t you?”

    “You know why not.”

    “Spike–”

    “Buffy, this isn’t a game!” Spike said. “You want to play with me, I’ll play, but not this. That was a dark and lonely time, followed by a darker and lonelier one.”

    “You said you wanted to play a different game,” Buffy said. “This is one, isn’t it?”

    “I didn’t mean this!”

    Buffy pouted.

    “Oh, bloody hell. That’s cheating, that is.”

    Buffy added puppy-dog eyes. Spike groaned. She didn’t relent.

    “Fine. Fine. Bloody Buffybot. God, I hate that thing.”

    “How could you? It was exactly what you wanted.”     

    “No, it wasn’t,” Spike said. “Don’t you see? It wasn’t you.”

    “Yeah, well... this time... it is.”
    

***
    

    The sex-bot bit her lip provocatively and smiled up at her master. “It’s me, Spike. Spike. You gorgeous creature. Do whatever you want with me. This is what I’m made for.”

    Spike’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what you want now, is it? To do whatever I want?”

    “Of course!” The sex-bot smiled.

    “You might be surprised.”

    “No I won’t. We can have sex now. In lots of different ways.”

    “Ah.” Spike sat down on the bed and dragged his sheet over, half covering his physique. “So that’s what this is. You want to know what I–”

    “Tell me what to do, Spike,” the sex-bot said. “Do you want me to–” She reached for the sheet and began to reach her hand up under it.

    “No,” Spike said. “Just stand there.”

    “What?”

    “You’re a bot. Just stand there. Stand there and look pretty for me.”

    The sex-bot felt a little confused – that is, its programing searched for hidden meanings – and finally arrived at the conclusion – ah, calculated – that the best thing to do was just obey. That was what it was made for, after all. To obey. It put back its shoulders, lifted its head, and stood there, looking pretty.

    It stood there for what felt like a long time, but was really only a couple of minutes. The strange thing was, minutes stretched on and on and on for a – robot – meant for action and movement. It was rare that there was any need to just stand still and on display. Every second, every... replicated breath, became another pebble of time dropped between them.

    Spike sat back and gazed upon the robot like it was some kind of statue. Finally his intent gaze shifted into something amused, and then positively wicked as he grinned at the bot’s growing confusion. But the sex-bot knew it wasn’t supposed to move. Or was it? This was supposed to be a mechanical girlfriend, not just a sex-toy. Right. The programming should have... remembered that. “How long should I stand here, Spike?” it asked with proper perky tones.

    “Until I’m tired of looking at you,” he said through his grin.

    The robot fought a desire to roll its eyes. Or drop the whole pretense and... and no, robots don’t have those kinds of thoughts. “Do you want a shoulder massage?” the bot queried.

    “No. But why don’t you undress,” he said, the wicked grin softening. The bot started to unbutton its shirt, and – “Slowly,” Spike said.

    The bot looked up at him, servos quietly whirring, head lowered, eyes provocative. “Oh.” It slowed down. One button slid through, slipped out of the connecting cloth, and free. Then another. Then another. Each and every movement revealing another inch or two of flesh-colored tegument, Spike’s blue eyes catching every second of it. The automaton was clearly on display. A machine of physicality only, made to be enjoyed and nothing more.

    But that wasn’t right. Because the thing had been made for Spike. She’d better check and make sure she was doing it right. “Is this how you want it, Spike?”

    “It’s what I asked for, innit?”

    “Yes,” the bot said with merry politeness. “But I need to make sure. After all, it’s important to please your man.”

    Spike’s smile widened again, but he seemed more amused than pleased. “Is it, now.”

    “Yes.”

    “And how are you gonna please me?”

    The bot unzipped its skirt and it slid around its ankles. It stood in matching bra and panty set – only a little frayed from rough use – and stepped out of the rest of its clothes.

    “Stop there,” Spike said.

    The bot stopped, obediently. It was kinda nice not to have to decide what to do next.

    “Now just stand there, and look pretty.”

    She stood there for another minute in her underwear, and started to feel self-conscious – except she didn’t, because robots don’t feel self-conscious at all. Such a thing as “self-conscious” shouldn’t be in her programming. Her pretty robot hands began to clench into slayer fists, and they trembled because... “Robots are supposed to be given orders,” the bot said, after searching its memory banks for something to say.

    “And I’ve given you one,” Spike said. “Stand there, and look like the slayer.”

    “For how long?”

    Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Robots don’t care how long.”

    The trembling wasn’t going away. Buffybot stood there with her hands clenched and her heart – clockwork, whatever – whirring with anticipation of – of what? The next order?

    The bot was hyper aware of everything, the temperature of the crypt, the sounds of the water running through the pipes to the irrigation system of the cemetery, the scent of the candles, the must of the earthy walls. And Spike... Spike lying there like a piece of chocolate drizzled cheesecake, just waiting to be devoured. The sheet covered just enough to tantalize.

    And she knew he knew it, too.

    “Are you sure you don’t want to have sex with me, Spike?” the bot asked happily. “I’m right here. And a girl gets bored if she has to stand still too long.”

    “I am having sex with you,” Spike said.

    “You’ve got a pretty weird definition,” the robot said – uh, after initializing back-talk subroutines. (That was a program, right?)

    “Broad,” Spike said. “I have a broad one. You’re here. You’re sexy. You want me, I want you. I can hear your heart beat, catch the scent of you.”

    “I’m only a robot.”

    “You’re still here,” he said. His eyes flickered up and down her form in a way that made the bot’s capacitor a bit incapacitated.  “What are you looking at?”

    “You, Spike.”

    “And what am I?”

    The bot grinned. “You’re an evil, murderous fiend,” she said.

    “Am I. Go on.”

    “You’re a vampire. And I know you’re only wearing that sheet to tease me.”

    He laughed outright. “Hungry little bot, aren’t you.” He stood up. There he was, in all his muscular glory. Fry my circuits, but he was cut.

    “Goodness, Spike,” the mechanism gushed fondly. “Check out that lean and muscular body. I can’t help myself. I have to touch you.” The bot fell against him, her hands running along his smooth chest, her nails gently scratching his cool skin.

    “You like it, do you?”

    “You know I do, Spike. How could anyone not?”

    “Tell me more,” he said.

    The bot gazed at him. “Your washboard abs are irresistible,” she said. “And your strong arms. Those are... good, good arms to have. And your tight ass is enough to drive a girl round the bend.”

    “Is it?” he asked, clearly loving how she used his own words back at him. “Show me.” He grabbed her head and pushed her down between his legs. It was rougher than he usually – than the bot thought – processed –

    It was rough. Disrespectful. But the bot supposed she deserved that. She obediently opened her mouth and licked at his soft cock. The foreskin was still moist. Victorian, uncut, not like Riley. She liked that about him. It made for a smooth sliding as he fucked her – not that robots can have opinions about such things. Or that a Spike obsessed Buffybot would ever have fondled anyone else.

    The sexbot gently slid the foreskin back with her hand and pulled the soft organ into her mouth, licking and sucking at the frenulum. She touched with just a hint of teeth, and then pulled back as Spike hissed. Then she did it again, and his hand went into her hair and pulled. The pain... wasn’t pain, because she was a robot, just a thing, and couldn’t feel pain. She groaned anyway, and took his hardening cock deeper into her mouth.

    Spike’s breath grew heated. He swallowed and tensed beneath her as she did everything in her power to pleasure him. She fondled his balls and pulled on his cock with her hot little mouth, until Spike grunted and trembled. She felt him stiffen further, moaning, and then he abruptly pulled away. Buffybot wasn’t having that. No. She was going to pull it out of him if it was the last thing she did. It was what she was here for!

    She wanted it. She wanted him to release inside her, to take in all of him, dammit. She was his which meant, by extension, that he was hers. Her owner, her creator, her master. She grabbed hold of his hips and followed, pulling him toward her, swallowing him down, pulling harder on his cock, sucking at it, his long shaft filling her mouth. She’d let him spill himself all over her and down inside her, the evil wretched thing, which was no more than she deserved. She was a machine. She was empty inside. She needed him to fill her.

    Spike stopped trying to pull away. Good. She didn’t deserve consideration. She was only a robot. She sucked and pulled and he tensed and gasped and... there! There he was, all of him, his essence poured inside her mouth. She’d tasted it before. Vampire. He tasted slightly of blood. She’d often wondered if Angel would have tasted the same way – and she suddenly gagged. As a robot, she thought Angel was “bloody stupid,” and she wouldn’t have ever wanted to touch him. No. This was Spike. This was what she was made for. She stopped thinking about anyone but him, and it tasted like sex, and she wanted to swallow him down. And did.

    But Spike pulled away, still gasping. “Get up,” he growled. “Get off your knees.”

    The bot obeyed, but it was curious. “Why?”

    “You don’t get to ask why!” Spike shouted.

    The bot was taken aback by how furious he sounded. “What did I do wrong, Spike?”

    “Stop asking questions!”

    The bot felt terribly wounded. “I was trying to make you happy.”

    “Yeah, well, you don’t! Do you hear me, you don’t! I can’t do this, you stupid bloody machine.”

    Buffybot was confused. “I don’t understand.”

    Spike glared at her. “What was that to you? What are you trying to pull, here? You hate what you are, is that what this is?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I heard you gagging,” he said. “Is it me you find disgusting, or just yourself?”

    “I... I didn’t... I was thinking about....” The bot stopped. “There was a flaw in my processors,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “It had nothing to do with you.”

    “It has everything to do with me,” he said. “And nothing to do with you. What flaw is it? That you want me in the first place? Is that a programming error?”

    “I... I don’t know,” the machine said. It tried to force a smile, but the program didn’t seem to be proceeding according to specs. “I do want you. That’s... that’s what you made me for, right?”

    “Shut up,” Spike said. He grabbed the bot by the hair and pushed it against the wall. “Shut up. Right, I made you. I made you for me. You’re mine, you hear me? You’re all mine. There’s nothing in you, nothing to you, the only thing about you is that you’re mine.”

    Buffybot trembled, splayed against the cold stone. She could feel Spike’s cool body against her back, and she knew she could fight back. She’d been constructed strong enough to fight back. But... robots... didn’t want... to fight back....

    No. They didn’t. She sagged against the wall. “No, Spike,” she whispered. “There’s nothing. Nothing inside me. I’m all yours.”

    Spike froze and twisted her head by her hair. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was searching her face. “All mine?”

    “All yours,” she said. “Spike. I want you. I was made to want you. I was made for you.” He released her and she turned to him, her head tilted up invitingly. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

    “I never loved you, you wretched thing,” he growled, but the growl was soft now. The anger was gone. “You’re the worst thing I ever did. I hate everything about you, the need I had that made you, the loss that put you in front of me, your voice and your body and your eyes that just. Aren’t. Buffy!”

    “I don’t mean to displease you,” the bot whispered.

    “Well, you do,” Spike growled. “I never wanted to want you. I wanted everything you weren’t.”

    The bot stared up at him. “Then you’d better punish me.”

    Spike hit the thing. It moved with the blow instinctively, and then lashed out, and Spike blocked its blow in turn. “That what you want, you thing?” he asked. “Oh, that’s always what you want. Well too bad! I’m your sodding master so just stand still!”

    The bot froze, perky grin still on its face, and Spike picked it up. He carried it a few steps and then threw it on the bed so hard it nearly bounced off. Spike followed. He grabbed it by the throat and held it down, glaring blue murder out of those eyes of his. “You’re not Buffy,” he told it. “You’re not human. You’re not anything. You don’t deserve to be treated well.”

    “No, Spike,” the bot whispered. “I don’t.”

    Spike ripped off the bot’s bra from the front, and followed suit with her panties – so much for that outfit – and then held her arms down. “You can’t move until I tell you, right? You’re mine. All mine, you’re just a bloody doll.”

    “Just a doll. I’m sorry, Spike. I’d be what you want if I could be.”

    Spike swallowed. “I know it,” he said. “And that’s why I hate you.” He pushed her down by her shoulders. “You hear me? I hate you! I hate everything about you!”

    “I know,” the machine whispered. “That’s what I deserve.”

    “You’re gonna get what’s coming to you,” Spike told it. “I’m gonna burn myself out in you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He reached for his bedside drawer and pulled out a tube of something. He grabbed the bot’s legs and lifted them up, bending it, exposing its ass. “That’s it,” he said, rubbing slippery lubricant over the bot’s anus. “Gotta lube you up, ‘cause you’re not real. There’s nothing real about you. There’s nothing in you, nothing for you. There’s only me. You got that, you wretched thing? Only me.”

    “Only you,” it whispered. “Thank you, Spike. Thank you.”

    “That’s right, you thing. Thank me. Thank me for using you. Thank me for hurting you. Thank me for hating you.”

    “Thank you,” it whispered, the feel of his smooth fingers sliding in and out of her, opening her slowly, slowly, her simulated body inflamed, her sensors overloading with sensation. “Thank you, Spike, thank you, thank you.”

    “You want this,” he said, shifting so his cock tickled at her anus. “You want me in you, you want me to fill you so there’s something inside you. Say it!”

    “Yes, Spike. Fill me.” She cried out, but she made herself say it. “Fill me, there’s nothing in me. I need you in me!”

    “That’s right, bitch,” Spike snarled. His cock touched the entrance, and he pierced her, sliding deep and then deeper inside her opened bud. The bot’s legs trembled, and her back was bent almost unnaturally far. Her thighs pressed against Spike’s white chest. He moved in her, moving her whole body as he thrust. The bot’s mouth was open, crying out uncontrollably as he filled her, moved her, owned her.

    He didn’t touch her clit. He didn’t try to pleasure her at all. He just took his own, forced himself in her. She was a robot. She didn’t deserve consideration. She didn’t deserve anything but punishment, for not being what he wanted. Not being what he loved. It felt right, to be used like this. To be nothing but an object, for him. It was what she wanted.

    “I’m sorry you don’t love me,” she whispered.

    “I don’t,” he said, grunting into her. “I don’t love you. I don’t love you at all, you thing, you machine, you monster. I hate everything about you. I hate your fake hair and your empty eyes and your dead skin and your plasticine scent and your perky sodding voice and your jerky mechanical fighting and your stupid flattery! I hate your damn idiocy and how you follow me around like a bloody puppy and how I can’t. Bloody. Kill you! because you’re not alive!” He roared suddenly as he came, but he didn’t let himself linger with it. He surged up and over her, and held her down, his hand on her throat. “I hate you, you bitch!” he snarled low. The bot saw that there were tears in his eyes. “You dead, fucking, bitch. How could you do this to me?”

    The bot stared up at him for a long moment, her circuits glowing. Touched. He looked so tormented. So lost. So alone. “I’m here now,” she whispered. Softly, gently, she turned the vampire over and kissed him, then kissed his eyes, his cheeks... even his tears tasted faintly of blood. “I’m here for you now, Spike,” she whispered. “Only for you. I’m here only for you.”

    Spike just closed his eyes and let the bot kiss him. “I’m yours,” she whispered. “Your own. Your toy. I only want... I only want to be with you. I lo...” The bot stopped, her circuits seizing. “I live for you,” she said. “I live for you, Spike. I’m here with you.”

    Spike slid his hand behind her head and kissed her passionately. Then he pulled her against him, slid his leg over her, cuddling her close. “I love you, you wretched thing,” he whispered to her. The bot wasn’t at all sure he’d stopped crying.

    She couldn’t help it. “And... the other Buffy?”

    “The other Buffy hates me,” Spike whispered. “The other Buffy’s dead.” He kissed her sweetly. “I’ll take what I can get, you know. Whatever that is. Even if it’s not what I really want.”

    “And I’m not what you really want?” the bot asked.

    Spike almost laughed, his breath coming out in a small scoff. He kissed her briefly. “You’re just a machine,” he whispered into her mouth. “You can’t feel anything. What does it matter if I want you?”

    “I want you to want me,” she whispered back. “I was made for you. I want to be what you want.”

    Spike sighed against her, kissed her again, leaned against her forehead so her visual lenses couldn’t focus – just a blur of pale skin and blue where his eyes should be. “Then just be Buffy,” he whispered. “Please. Please. Just be Buffy.”