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DISCLAIMER: Buffy and her friends belong to Joss. Darn him!
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In the last chapter, Buffybot woke up and got some important info from Anya. *** Doris the Social Services Dragon stopped by Buffy’s house for a visit. Spike helped with the dishes and told Doris a big fat lie. *** Giles sold a mummy’s hand. (Those things are just flying off the shelves.) *** Wedgy, Spike’s cousin asked Spike a question, but didn’t get an answer. *** American Spuffy fans wondered what Toad In the Hole might possibly be, but got no answers.

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Chapter 3 – All the Extra Programming



Buffy left the Magic Box and ran straight to Spike’s crypt. Buffy was in a bad mood. A bad, bad mood. All the men in her life were skunks.

As she jogged through the cemetery, she recounted to herself the many men who were totally lame and had let her down or made her miserable in her short life. First, her shiftless, deadbeat father who was prancing around Spain with his secretary and enjoying his midlife crisis while Buffy and Dawn were living on cake decorations and meat tenderizer. Angel, who left town for her own good, and there was absolutely nothing she hated worse than being on the receiving end of someone doing something for her own good. Parker, a small but painful blip on the Buffy radar. Riley Finn, who she never would have taken up with if it hadn’t been for that scary Slayer dream featuring herself and Spike and dripping candle wax. The big dumb farm boy not only dumped her, but blew apart her theory that catching some nice normal guy was the solution to all her romantic problems. And now, Giles, who seemed ready to outdo her natural father in the Shiftless, Useless and Not To Be Counted On categories, threatened to leave her.

To be fair, Xander was pretty dependable as long as Anya distracted him from his One Day Buffy Will Belong to Me Fantasy and Spike proved himself a Rock of Reliable in the matter of keeping the secret of Dawn’s Keyness. Could anything be more aggravating than having the evil, soulless, annoying Spike be the focus of Reliable Male Behavior in her life? She comforted herself with the thought that either one of them, Spike especially, could fly off the Reliability Rails at any moment.

She couldn’t do anything about her father and Angel, Riley and Parker were of the history, and she probably couldn’t do anything about Giles bailing on her, but she certainly could do something about Spike.

She kicked open the crypt door and sent it banging against the wall. Sunlight flooded in with her.

Spike sat in his overstuffed chair with one leg slung over the arm of the chair, sucking a bottle of beer. “Slayer, welcome to my happy home. Like a beer?”

Buffy felt a sick tickle in the back of her throat. She’d had enough beer for a lifetime compliments of the owner of the Frostle Pub on campus. “Ew. Don’t try to foamy me up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. So, what’s got your knickers in a knot?”

Buffy placed herself between Spike and the television. He ducked his head to look between her slender legs so he could watch the end credits roll on his favorite afternoon show, All My Children.

“You. You’ve got my knickers in a …” Buffy’s voice trailed off as Spike smiled and looked smug. “You and what you said to that stupid woman from Social Services. If she takes Dawn away because of your dumb trick, I’ll …” Buffy frowned. She didn’t know exactly what she’d do to Spike if she lost Dawn, but she’d think of something, damn it.

“You’ll what, Slay-er?” He drained his bottle of beer and placed the empty bottle in a suggestive spot between his legs. He stroked his fingers up and down the bottle.

Buffy’s face blazed red and hot. God, he was loving this. She snatched the bottle away and tossed it against the wall.

Spike got up and stretched. He walked behind her and sniffed her neck. “Just what I thought, luv. You’re not going to do a thing. You need me. Got to have somebody big and strong.” He touched her golden hair braid with his fingertips. “Need someone to help you fight Glory or you’ll be worrying about something a lot worse than some bitch from the government.”

Buffy held herself rigid. He was standing behind her as close as he could without touching her. She refused to turn around. She was not about to give in to Spike’s creep out tactics by letting him know he was making her nervous. Her neck tingled from Spike’s closeness. She could smell the beer and blood on his breath, the smoke from his cigarettes, which, okay, manly smelling. And, she wasn’t nervous -- not at all.

“You feel it, too, don’t you?” He skimmed his cool hand over her arm.

“We’re not getting married.” Buffy’s voice did not carry the absolute certainty she would have wished. In fact, she sounded downright kittenish and possibly whiny.

Spike picked a loose strand of hair and twirled it around his index finger. “That right?”

“I don’t have to do anything. I don’t need you anymore – not for fighting or for anything.”

“Sure you don’t need me for anything?”

Buffy twirled around and jerked her hair loose. “Ow! I’ve got news for you, Big Bad. You’re being replaced by a robot. Someone I can depend on. He’ll fight every bit as good as you and without any smart alecky back talk.”

Spike laughed and snorted. He laughed again, and flopped on his chair and held his belly and laughed until tears came out of his eyes.

Buffy shoved his chair over backward with him in it and stomped out of the crypt.



Glory rolled over on her bed and flipped the page on the latest issue of Vogue Europe magazine.

Jinx, who along with Dank was groveling at the end of her bed, personally filched the magazine for her from the Thank Heaven Convenience Food Mart run by a most revolting regurgitating frovolax demon. He hoped Glory would tire of the magazine soon, because the magazine featured several excellent color photographs of naked human women which he wished to examine.

“Someone or something regurgitated on Page 51,” Glory said. “That pisses me off. The fact that my every wish and whim has not been anticipated by my minions pisses me off even more.” Her voice sounded sweet and calm and her words carried a singsong lilt that guaranteed pain. “Jinx?”

“Yes, your Scrumptious Sinfultude,” Jinx said. His head ached with the pain of an excruciating hangover delivered by last evening’s overindulgence in frozen yak urine cocktails. He waved his hand in front of his chest and bowed and stifled a groan. “How may I serve your Buttery Brightness?”

“Cut the crap.” Glorificus accepted a hand mirror from Jinx and held her hair up on the top of her head. “Did you think I forgot? Did you think for one single, solitary nanosecond I forgot?”

Jinx cut a look at Assistant Head Demon, Dank, whose skin showed a greenish tinge in the morning light. Dank must also be feeling the effects of too many frozen yak urine cocktails consumed while they were searching for information about the white-haired vampire. “Oh, no, Your Fragrant Frothiness. You never forget.”

“Since I never forget, then someone else must have forgotten. Am I right?”

“Yes, of course,” Jinx said. “Possibly that someone was me? If it was me, may I hope you’ll remind me of whatever it was I was supposed to remember, but I neglected to remember before you have me disemboweled and feed me to your pet miniature bousker demons?” Jinx bowed again and tilted his head at the same time, which gave him a crick in his neck and sent a sharp pain stabbing through his head.

Glory threw her magazine at the top of Jinx’s bald head. It left a red welt and bounced off. “I want my vampire! What do I have to do to get one loathsome vampire delivered to my tasteful condo with a view of the ravine over the Hellmouth?”

“Why nothing at all, Puffy Perfumed One. I will send Gurp and Leoth to fetch him immediately.” Jinx and Dank bowed their way backwards out of Glorificus’ presence.

“How are Gurp and Leoth going to fetch him?” Dank asked. “We don’t know where he is.”

Jinx flexed his face into something resembling a smile and showed his upper row of rotted teeth. “I am most disturbed to say, Assistant Head Demon Dank, they are going out to fetch the vampire, but they won’t be doing any fetching.”

Dank’s face paled and his eyes widened with terror. “If they return without the vampire, Her Pinkful Pulchritude will strip their flesh from their bones and use their scapulae to pick her teeth.”

Jinx raised his hands in resignation. “They live to serve.”



Buffybot strode through the Emergency Room of Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, swinging her arms and smiling. Her plastic composite teeth flashed white and sparkly. Her long pink skirt flapped around her legs.

A woman at the reception desk called out to her. She was wearing a white dress, white stockings and a white cap. Buffybot recognized her outfit from Anya’s description. “May I help you?”

“I’m here for blood,” Buffybot said. “Do you know where it’s kept, Naughty Nurse?”

The nurse frowned and handed Buffybot a form in triplicate and pointed down the hall. “The blood drive is down the hall to the left, just past the morgue. You can’t miss it.”

Buffybot took the form and headed down the hall. She didn’t see any blood. She saw a young man with brown hair, dressed in baggy blue cotton clothes. She walked up to the man and tapped him on his shoulder. “Pardon me. Do you know where the blood is kept?”

The man turned. “Buffy, hey. Good to see you.”

“It’s good to be seen.” Buffybot smiled and consulted her Friends of Buffy Folder. She didn’t find the Baggy Blue Clothes Man’s face in her Image Recognition Cross Reference Database, so she read his name tag. “Dr. Ben Mannpflegen, can you help me find blood?”

“Sure, the blood drive is down the hall. I’ll walk you.” Ben placed his fingers on Buffybot’s arm. “After you give blood, could I buy you a cup of coffee? I’m due for a break soon.”

“Coffee?” Buffybot shrugged off his hand and consulted her Maintenance Folder. Three in One oil, anti-static dust spray, assorted electronic chips, hard drives A through D, 982 gold screws … blink … blink … blink … Coffee was not listed. “No, I don’t require coffee. Thank you for asking.”

Dr. Ben Mannpflegen’s face assumed a configuration Buffybot identified as Disappointment. “I thought you wanted to give – coffee – a whirl?”

Buffybot frowned. “You confused me. Why would you whirl coffee?”

Ben laughed. “You’re so funny, Buffy. I never know what you’re going to say next.”

A nurse wheeled an aluminum cart filled with bags of plasma down the hall past Buffybot. Buffybot picked up two of the bags and placed them in her pink leather patrol bag. She left the papers given to her by the Naughty Nurse on the cart. “I must go. I have many items on my To Do List: I have Acquired Blood. I must Kill Evil On An As Needed Basis; Locate Spike; Protect Spike; Have Sex With Spike; Change Clothes Into Something Hot; Clean Up Spike’s Crypt and Review My Programming. Goodbye.”

“Wait, Buffy,” Ben said. He caught her arm.

“Yes, I’m Buffy. Please don’t touch my arm. Only Spike is allowed to touch my arm and other body parts. He’s Sexy!”

Ben held his hand up and wiggled his fingers. “Sorry. Who is Spike? I thought you weren’t seeing anybody special.”

“I love Spike. You should see him naked. Really! You would love him, too.”

Buffybot whirled, and after a brief stop in the nurse’s locker room to select a white outfit, walked out of the hospital and headed to the Magic Box to perform the next assignment on her list.

Locate Spike.



Warren and his two geek friends hovered behind Buffy.

“He looks good,” Buffy said. “But, what about the rest?”

Spike stood at stiff attention in front of Buffy with his eyes closed. He inhaled the sweet vanilla Buffyessence of her neck and the sweat she’d worked up running over to the abandoned house. His own skin reeked from the poncy scent of the 350 SPF vampire strength, sun block spray Warren doused him with moments before Buffy’s arrival.

Buffy walked around Spike in a circle and cocked her head. “A little walk, a little talk... perhaps a zippy cartwheel...” She pinched his butt.

Andrew and Jonathan giggled and poked each other in the ribs until Buffy glared at them.

Warren inched closer and adjusted Spike’s coat. “Hey, he's, uh, great. You'll be real happy, I swear. He's got everything you asked for. He’s got new features I developed since I made the Buffybot – automatic recharging and artificial intelligence. He can even drink real blood like one of those Baby Alive Slip and Slurp dolls. And, all the extra programming, tons of real-world knowledge, the profiles you gave me about your family and friends.”

“All the extra programming, right?” Buffy asked.

Spike didn’t know what extra programming Buffy requested, but he knew exactly what extra programming she’d be getting.

”Ah, all the, the stuff you wanted, the, uh, scenario responses, you know, the, uh, uh, special ... skills ... ” Warren slid away from Buffy, who was punching Spike lightly in the gut, five or six dozen times. “I can throw in the leather coat for just $500.”

Buffy clutched Warren’s elbow.

“Or, I could throw in the coat for free.” He squirmed to get out of Buffy’s grip.

“Wait. I'm not sure I'm a satisfied customer. He looks a little shiny to me, you know, uh... a touch of plasticine... ”

“What are you talking about, Slayer? I made him with the finest poly – uh - urethane money can buy on the black market. Let’s take him for a test drive.” Warren snapped his fingers a couple of times. “Spike, wake up.”

Spike popped his eyes open. Buffy, his very own Slayer, stood right in front of him, wearing the pink stretchy top Warren used to dress the Buffybot. “Slayer!” He stepped forward, grabbed Buffy and jerked her to his chest. He kissed her hard. Two or three minutes of radically thermal kissing passed before Buffy pushed Spike away.

“Whew. He’ll do.” She straightened her pink top which had somehow become pulled out of place.

“Gazonga,” Andrew said. “Spike, I mean, Spikebot is radically thermal.” He caught the looks Jonathan and Warren were giving him and amended his statement. “In a man – woman way.”

“Are you touching yourself under my X-men Adventures comic book?” Jonathan said. “That’s Volume 4, No. 82. It’s a collector’s item.”

With a minimum of slapping and nose pulling, Warren and the two geeks snickered and ran up the stairs. The front door banged open and they were gone.

“Let’s go, Spikebot.”

“I’m Evil and Sinister and Devilishly Handsome,” Spike said. “I’m the Big Bad.”

Buffy glanced down his body. “You certainly are. And, didn’t I tell Warren not so much with the talking?”

Spike grinned and followed Buffy out of the house into the bright sunshine.



Jinx and Dank sidled into the musty room where Doc lived and sometimes entertained visitors. Jinx agreed to consult Doc as a last resort. Their efforts to locate Spike at the usual Sunnydale haunts for vampires – the Blood Bank, the Sunset Club, Varnies’ Strip Club and the Twilight Lanes Bowling Alley – proved to be a waste of time and effort. The vampire with the bleached hair was nowhere to be found.

The beatings inflicted on Gurp and Leoth, when they returned without the vampire, encouraged Dank to speak up and suggest a visit to Doc. Jinx agreed most reluctantly, not only because of the dangerous reputation of Doctor Lizfrenkoutsuzian, but because Jinx was most unwilling to allow a subordinate to come up with a good idea. Well, if things turned out well and they obtained useful information from Doc, Jinx would take the credit. If not, Dank would accept the blame with cheer.

It was a warm day, but Doc’s room was ice cold and a fire burned in the fireplace. Doc wore a warm, full length duster which had the added advantage of covering his tail.

“Gentlemen. Friends of Glorificus, aren’t you? What can I do for you today?” Doc’s forked tongue flicked out and crushed a bottle green fly buzzing close to Dank’s left ear.

Jinx folded his hands together and assumed the cringing position that had become second nature to him during his service to Glorificus. “It is about a vampire, Doctor Lizfrenkoutsuzian. We require assistance in locating him for her Pungeant Pugnaciousness. The vampire has knowledge concerning the whereabouts of the Key.”

“White hair? Hangs around at the Thank Heaven Convenience Mart? Plays dominoes?”

Jinx turned to Dank, who shrugged his shoulders. The white-haired vampire did not seem a likely victim of dominoes addiction, but anything was possible, and other much stronger demons than a mere vampire had fallen prey to the lure of the black bones. “Yes, he’s the one.”

Doc went to his desk, touched three or four books without opening them, settled on a new book and opened the cover. “Debrett’s Who’s Who of Vampires, very useful volume. Here we are, William the Bloody.”

Doc read for a moment, sounding out words to himself. “Turned 1880. Scourged around Europe with Angelus. Drusilla. Blah, blah, blah. Prague. Blah, blah, blah. Oh! You don’t want to mess with him. He’s quite the nasty.” Doc leafed through a few more pages. “Wait. I spoke hastily. An obscure U.S. military agency tampered with William’s brain. Put in some sort of electronic device …” He ran his finger down the page and mumbled to himself, “… joined forces with the Slayer, Miss Buffy Anne Summers, at the California Hellmouth. Pariah in the vampire community. Blah, blah, blah. Lives in a crypt in Restfield Cemetery. Lurks in front of the Slayer’s house, 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California, in the evenings from 11:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. Pacific Time. Yes, the crypt, you’ll find him there.”

Jinx left a suitable tribute of freshly extracted, chocolate-covered newt eyes on Doc’s desk and he and Dank backed out bowing.

Once outside Doc’s rooms, Jinx smacked Dank on the back of his scabby head for wasting his time consulting Doc and receiving useless information, not to mention the outlay for the newt eyes. “There is no possibility the Slayer will allow her most precious vampire to return to the crypt where we located him. If you mention any of this to her Majestic Mayhemness, I will deduct the price of those yak urines from your paycheck.”

Dank rubbed his head and promised to maintain silence on their visit.