Tuesday, July 20, 2004

"Sunnydalopolis..." Part II...

Sunnydalopolis part II

No, Spike thought...You want to be causal. No fancy airs, no
straightening up the place. After all, Buffy II has to know who's in charge here in Spikey's crypt. Right from the start. None of the stuff those idiot boyfriends put up with. Right from the start. But not too causal. Mustn't let her think she's not appreciated, not welcome, not longed for, not...loved
and worshiped...

He looked around. Bare white stone slab walls, broken only by the occasional ancient plaque to some family member of a long deceased clan...

The lower depths...Bare rock, with pipes...Dank...With the vague smell of an long-abandoned sewer system still hanging on...A few sticks of furniture collected here and there...

Not much of a place for a Buffy Summers...he thought...

Well, nothing to be done about it.

He looked round again...It'll be lonely for her here...what if
Warren's sell is the truth, what if she's Buffy completely, she'll hate it here, she'll hate me, she'll leave me...

Maybe some pillows would brighten up the place...


"Warren, old pal. Welcome to the digs." Spike is genuinely happy to see anyone right now and he has grown a little fond of his partner in cybernetics.

Much to his surprise, Warren is equally enthusiastic to see him.

"Well, how's going? Is the tank stable?"

"If the little green light means stable, we're home free. Otherwise, it's your call kid."

Warren checked the tank monitors. All's as well as can expected...

"So...tomorrow the big event. You must be going crazy. I know I am."

"Nah..." Spike was causal, a poised vamp of the world... " It works or it doesn't...no big deal. Nice of you to check up though."

"Of course, I'll leave the opening to you. You'll want to be by yourselves for that I'm sure."

"You won't drop by...to be certain?" Spike's nonchalance was fading...

"Spike, she'll be fine..." Warren now smiles at him... " And you
won't want me around. But I'd like to drop by later in the day, see how she's doing."

"Yeah, certainly, but shouldn't you be here in case something goes wrong?"

Warren actually pats the vampire on the shoulder. "Spike, you'll be fine. Just go easy with her and let her set the pace." He frowns. "I mean of conversation, walking, that sort of thing...don't push her too fast. Remember her neural structure will need to accept the idea...of you, I mean."

"In some existence Buffy Summers could care for me? That's what you said isn't it? And the robot's brain could create the scenario for that? Is that really possible?"

The little scientist grins..."Well, yes...Why not? You're a charming fellow in a dark but blond sort of way...But, Spike...it really might help...if you made a real effort...well, to be the sort of man Buffy Summers would be able to care for."

"Right. I'll do my best imitation of a dim-witted soldier boy. Or a soulful, reformed vampire."

"No...Spike, look. You didn't want a 'drooling doll' and our Ms Summers is not going to be one. She'll see right through any act you try to put on. Just try...I don't know...try to be..."

"Xander Harris? Rupert Giles?...look doc, I'm reaching here." He grins at the frowning scientist. "A good man...That's it, isn't it? She'll want someone who'll fight for the right, save babies from the burning fire...demon, that sort of thing? Well, ole Spikey will come thru in short order."

"She may have her own ideas about what she wants from you Spike. All you can do is try your best." He gets up to leave and turns to the vampire. He senses Spike's fear and nervousness. "She'll be on your side, Spike. If you make an honest effort."

"Warren...what happens... if I don't measure up. Not that I can't measure up if I want to. But Slayers have unusual ideas about things..."

Warren looked at him...A long moment...

"She'll do what Ms. Summers would do...if someone she cared about let her down."

"But what about...the friends, the damn family gang...the little Nibs? She'll want them, won't she?"

"Spike...I don't know the lady that well, but you should know better than I do...that change is part of life. And, she'll know what she is, after all and, maybe, you'll both find some way to fill that gap. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ok, he thought. Ok, it's not going to be easy. But I don't want it easy. He looks at the tank. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. The blasted sun will come up tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.


The rest of the day he spent fitfully dreaming on his slab...For the first time since his death he dreamt of Cambridge, England, poetry. He was teaching a class in...British poetry to a class of Buffies...all laughing at him. "I'm trying, please, ladies, I'm trying...now please,..." They laughed, hooted, and stood up to point at their ridiculous teacher. He sweated, trying to stammer out the lesson. But one, in the front row, smiled at him. He stared at her and as he started to relax a bit, awoke...

He suddenly sits bolt upright. He has just realized that Buffy II is going to wake up stark naked...

"Good God, she'll kill me!"


Glory awakened in her rather palacial apartment...The involuntary gift of a wealthy businesswoman...Feeling rather miserable. Her counterpart Ben has been getting the upper hand of late and has obviously been working like a dog, treating the miserable wretches flung into her path and wrung dry by her..

She is aching all over and very much out of sorts. Dreg, her minion, is nervously awaiting her pleasure in his usual corner.

"Oh, joyous incredible bliss to have you with us again, our Glorious one! Oh, let my worthless life be again at your blessed disposal. Let my..."

"Yeah, yeah...please I'm really exhausted. Lets have the report and hold the blandishments for later."

"A thousand pardons, oh Gloriousness! May my wretched foolishness be punished with a thousand years of piercing, burning tortures!"

She glares at the little minion...

"Now as to events in your absence... I beg to report that our brethren have detected the presence of additional Knights in the area, though no more as yet in Sunnydale..."

"Key!" She stamps the floor...Oops, a new hole in the floor...

"Yes, oh goddess. As to the Key...I regret there is no news as yet. The Slayer has been watched carefully, but she has made no move that would suggest its whereabouts...or that she has learned to make use of it. I..."

"Arghh...give me that glass thing..." she gestures wildly...Glass thing already broken, Dreg notes... "Give me something to break...now!"

Dreg looks around, there is nothing left to break.

"My humblest apologies, my goddess...please take my unworthy body and smash it to pieces to your hearts' content-both of them."

"Time, time so little time." She paces then stops, looking at the waiting Dreg. "You look awful. Do you always have to wear that same outfit?"

"My craven apologies, most Glorious one. I have no other garment...we do not have any time to spare on such things in our quest to fulfill your slightest wish, perform your every command..."

"I feel awful...What is with Ben these days? Doesn't he ever sleep? Say, where is the Slayer now? Is she in walking distance? Not that I want to go walking."

"The...Slayer. Well, your gloriousness, I am reluctant to speak...for fear of awakening Ben...The Slayer has had a death in her family. She is not at home at present, but we believe she is in Sunnydale...somewhere."

Glory's face turned a deep shade of red...

A lovely shade...Dreg loyally noted...

"Somewhere?! Somewhere?! Is this how I am served?! I...the glorious one, I...the...The Slayer's had a death... in her family? Who? No, don't tell me, don't tell me, lets stop talking about it...I feel Ben circling around in there. I need some quality time outside here. Ok, ok... You know, what we need is a little pick-us-up."

"Ah, I'm sure we can find someone suitable just outside. Let me go and see..."

"No, Dreg. Not that... I need a little distraction." She looks at the minion.

"And you could definitely use a new suit."

"Oh, your gloriousness..."
[Glory and Dreg theme, Moonglow]

"Dreg, my shoes...Call a cab...Minion, we are mall-bound."


"About yea high, about your size there." With one hand raised to Buffy's height, Spike points at the salesgirl's middle. By his sides are bags loaded with every outfit he could remember from Buffy's wardrobe. Just one more dress, courtesy of Xortox Labs' company credit card and he will be...in debt for the length of even his existence. He doesn't notice the man in trenchcoat
causally strolling by who regards him sharply. If he had, he might have recognized a fellow member of the Xortox family...


Dreg, clutching an Orange Julius, and now wearing a rather expensive three piece suit, is also strolling along. For him, this is the happiest night of his miserable existence. His dearly beloved goddess has made him the focus of her attention for the better part of two hours, and, thanks to the unconscious
kindness of a passerby and a saleslady, both now mentally incapacitated, has enjoyed all the blessing a cash-flush Glory and the Sunnydale Mall can offer. Unfortunately it is coming to an end as Glory, sensing Ben's presence, has dashed for the ladies room. But happy as he is, Dreg is a worthy minion and is
quick to remember the pale blond man standing in the store as one of those unworthies he has seen in the presence of the Slayer. Doubtless one who serves the Slayer. He rushes to the restroom to alert his mistress, but emerging from the room looking apologetic is good old Ben wearing one of the outfits Glory had purchased for the minion...

Dreg, rather crestfallen, heads sadly home...


Spike unaware of the interest in his activities, heads lairward.

At the lair he enters, as quietly as he can with five overstuffed bags, and noting the tank securely closed, goes over to a ladder leading to the larger section of the lair below. He drops the bags down below and climbs down to pack things away. As he climbs back up, he feels a tingling sensation, a warning that something or someone is in killing range. He tenses, turns, and finds himself grabbed from behind...

A rather familiar feeling...

"Spike! Just what the hell have you been up to?"

It's Buffy, standing near the doorway. She regards him and glares at the tank.

"So...you and Dr. Warrenstein have been making a Barbie doll? Don't lie to me."

"Buffy, nice of you to call. I just got back myself. Glad to see you found your way in..."

She jerks him back to her. "What have you been doing, shopping? Whataya think, you've got a little dress-up dolly and you need clothes for her?"

"What?...Can't a fellow go out and do a little shopping in Sunnydale now? I had a little honestly earned cash and I go out and do my bit for the American economy and you think you can just come in here and start pushing me around about it?"

"I can just imagine what you bought...Well, you better make some new plans because there is no way in hell you are getting any version of me into whatever kinky little wackoness you're dreaming up."

She tosses him down....

"Didn't I tell you to clear out of Sunnydale? To keep out of my way? But you stay on here and you start playing around with this..." She rubs at her head.

"I don't need this now, I really don't. If I had any brains I would stake you right now and be done with it. But..."

"I like that...now where do you get off, coming into my digs, poking round my stuff, and telling me to get out...Why are you here, anyway?" He's about to ask if Warren has spilled the beans but there's something about the sweater outfit she's wearing that strikes him as strange.

"I want you to go patrolling with me...Now! This minute. I'm not having my friends at risk, patrolling for me while they're half out of their skulls over my mom and Buffy is in no shape to go out with Dawn and all and..."

"Buffy is...in...no...shape to go out."

"No, of course not. So we go. Now, before someone gets killed. What's the matter?"

"That sweater and skirt is one I kept...isn't it? From Buffy's?"

"Yes, did you expect me to go running around naked? What am I saying, of course you were...


He runs over to the tank. The green light is out...

"Actually, what did you get? Did you get one decent thing I can wear? Cause this sweater is smelling like your lair. Well, where are those things?"

"Down below, in the chest...the wooden one."

She looks at him and for the first time, a grin appears on her face. "A hope chest?...You have a hope chest?..." She shakes her head and goes below. "And Spike..." she calls "The only water in this place is up there, so get out while I change."

As he, dazed and bludgeoned,. moves to leave the lair, a slowly flickering light is now burning bright in his mind...

[theme for Buffy Rebecca-for music links go to story web site, Go]

"Are you getting out, Spike. Cause if I come up and find you leering there...

You won't be fit for patrol tonight."

"Ummn..." He calls back down. "What should...I call...you?"

"Buffy...what else? Now get out..."