FIC: I, robot. Part 5 – Emotional Recognition

And the final part…

Thanks to itmustbetuesday  for bringing the community to life and holding it all together and keeping the Spuffy dream alive. And thanks to all who read and commented. Feedback makes me ridiculously happy – and if I could arrange a Christmas Spikebot for you all, I would.

And now to read all the other wonderful fic on the site that I’ve been too chicken to read before I posted!

 

“Spike!” Buffy put on her best 1,000 kilowatt smile and stepped down into the crypt, her walk deliberately light and bouncy. “Honey, I’m home!” He looked up from the television and Buffy’s fixed smile faded at the sight of his ravaged features. Cuts and bruises marred his face, a split lip oozed blood and one eye was painfully blackened and swollen closed. He tried valiantly to smirk, but the effort clearly cost him dearly.

He winced. “So you are, pet.”

Jeez, Spike… what did she do to you? She forced back the smile “And I have whiskey!”

“Cheers.” He reached up to take the bottle, his torn t-shirt revealing the bruises and worse on his body.

Horrified, Buffy reached out a hand to touch the deep wound on his chest. “Spike. This is just…” He looked up curiously at the concern in her voice. She pulled herself together and patted him gently with a bright smile. “Just so sexy. You’re covered in sexy wounds.”

He snorted and turned his attention to the whiskey bottle. “Yeah. I feel real sexy.”

“Why did you let that Glory hurt you?” She fought to keep the bewilderment from her voice.

“Told you. She wanted to know who the key was.”

” Oh, well, I can tell her, and then you’ll…” Buffy made a show of turning to leave.

“No!” The effort caused Spike to cough painfully. “You can’t ever. Glory never finds out.”

“But… she’ll come after you again…” Buffy frowned as Spike shrugged and looked away. “We should go somewhere. Hawaii maybe. Hawaii’s pretty. I could wear a grass skirt.”

“Nice thought, love, but – no. Can’t do that. Need to be here – watchin’ the slayer’s back.” He winced. “Gotta remember to watch my own on occasions.” He looked down and his voice was low and soft. “This thing with Dawn… this key thing… Buffy – the other, not so pleasant Buffy … anything happened to Dawn, it’d destroy her. I couldn’t live, her bein’ in that much pain. Let Glory kill me first.” He gave a quiet laugh. “Knowin’ my luck probably will, too. Besides, kind of attached to the nibblet myself. Nope, Here for the duration. Better or worse.”

She felt a sharp tug inside, a pull that began to unravel something she’d worked to keep tied up tightly. “But… she hates you. And… and she’d stake you if she knew about me…”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Oh, yeah. Can’t see her understanding you at all.”

“So… why?”

“Love her. Never felt like this way about anyone before. Bloody pointless waste of time.” He sighed wearily and rested his head against the back of the chair. “Know it’s wrong, but there it is. “ He took a pull form the bottle, wincing as the raw spirit hit his torn flesh.

Buffy swallowed hard. “Love? I know about love. I love you, Spike. It’s programmed.”

“S’not the same.”

“Humph. ‘Splainy?

He gave a snort of laughter. “‘Splainy? What kind of a word is that?”

“I… maybe my language circuits are in need of attention… We love. We have sex.”

“Yeah, right. But somethin’ you’ve taught me. This thing for Buffy? It’s not just about tryin’ to get inside her lacies.” He looked up and caught the surprise on her face. “Yeah, bit of a revelation to me, too.” He looked away. “Look, pet, you’re not her, OK? Thought you’d be enough, and you’re great, don’t get me wrong. You’re a right nice piece and hot as hell in bed, better ‘n the real thing, I’d wager…” Spike paused, considered, and shook his head. “Why exactly am I trying not to hurt a robot’s feelings? Anyway, turns out I was wrong. Love her. Really do.”

“Tell me about this ‘love’.” Buffy felt her voice crack despite herself. He looked up at her sharply and she forced a bright smile. “It might help me to adjust my programming.”

“I don’t want… look, great havin’ you around an’ all, but you’re not her. Never could be.”

“Well, I look like her and you know I’ll do anything you want…”

He shook his head. “You’re not her,” he repeated. His voice was low as he went on. “Couldn’t be, not really. S’only one Buffy. An’ that’s the one I can’t shake. Do anything to make it right. Turn myself inside out an’ upside down if that’s what she wants. Die for her if it came to it. S’never going to be enough, though, is it? Can’t see beyond the Big Bad. She’s never gonna love me.”

Buffy watched his bent head for a quiet moment as the final bricks in the wall of her resolve crumbled to dust. This – what she was finally admitting to herself she was feeling – was beyond stupid. Seriously – way beyond. The sensible thing would be to deny the spark, to pretend it wasn’t happening, to run away and cling to the slayer certainties that vampire equals bad and evil, and bad and evil means not to be trusted and certainly not to be fallen for… But she was getting kind of tired of running away, and sensible was pretty over-rated sometimes. Plus where Spike was concerned, slayer certainties apparently weren’t so certain after all.

She reached out to rest her hand on the vulnerable curve of his neck, fingers brushing the soft curls at the base of his skull. “She’s been a fool,” she said softly. He looked up with a wry smile and she leaned toward him, pressed her lips gently to his.

For a moment he responded, then he pulled back with a small gasp of surprise. He looked at her, a puzzled frown creasing his brow, hope touching his bruised and bloodied eyes. “Buffy?”

“Would you rather have the robot?”

“Oh. You’ve met. Look, Buffy, s’not how it looks…”

“You mean you didn’t have Warren build you a sex toy?”

“No! I mean… well, yeah, OK, sort of… but I… It was wrong.” He dropped his eyes and stared at the floor. “You just gonna stake me or are you gonna make me suffer first?”

“Me and your… little friend, we had a chat.” Buffy crouched down beside Spike’s chair.

“Oh, shit.” Spike winced.

“She was very informative.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet she was.”

“Made me realise something.”

Spike sighed. “I’m gonna suffer first, right?”

“Spike?”

“Yeah?” He looked up at her, puzzled by the gentle tone of her voice.

“She said you love me.”

“You know I do,” he said softly. “Told you often enough.”

“Yes.” She kept her eyes fixed on his, her expression solemn. “And I do know. Really.”

“Well, good to know you believe her at least.” He gave a wry smile and looked away.

“Yeah, well, if you can’t believe yourself – even a pretty poor copy of yourself – who can you believe? But it wasn’t the ‘bot. At least, not that one…” she smiled at his puzzled expression. “Long story. Remind me to introduce you.”

“You know I haven’t the first idea what you’re talkin’ about…”

“No. But thing is, I’ve learned something lately.”

“And what would that be?”

She touched his cheek gently. “You’re really one of a kind, you know that?”

The puzzled frown deepened. “Is that a good one of a kind or…?”

“On the whole… all things considered…,” she said softly, leaning toward him. “It’s good,” she whispered against his lips, “very, very good…”

******

Out in the cemetery, Buffybot finished transferring data to the Spikebot and disconnected the link cable. “There you go. I find it very difficult to believe you were made without any of that information. I mean, if you were supposed to be Spike, then not to have all that amazing sexual technique…” She frowned. “Are you alright?” Spikebot was staring off into the darkness, his expression distant. “You’ve never felt any of that?”

“Well… sometimes, y’know, close-up and personal with the slayer… got these… urges. Bleedin’ frustratin’, they were. See why now– nowhere to go. Problem is, pet, I don’t have the necessary.” Spikebot gestured to the area that he now knew was deficient in certain important parts.

Buffybot looked more closely. “Oh! No penis? But that’s one of Spike’s best bits!” Buffybot considered – she wasn’t about to give in that easily. She checked her programming carefully, running through the files and sub-files. Hidden deep in her directories was her manufacturers mark; clearly Warren was too much the egotist not to put some sort of signature on his creations. She smiled brightly. “Never mind.” She stood up, pulled Spikebot after her and headed across the cemetery as fast as her stilettos would allow. “I know where we can find someone to fix that…”

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/39048.html