POV: Shifts Perspective
Spoiler Alert: There are tidbits from past episodes and Spanderverse: stories.
Notes: Story number fourteen in the Spanderverse-universe, following “Falling Apart”. Everything from the television series through the defeat of Adam also occurred as depicted, in the Spanderverse.
People’s thoughts are depicted in italics. You’ll find emphasis depicted with an underline.
Takes place two weeks after Thanksgiving, and ergo, about two weeks more or less before Christmas.
Ch 3 – Attack of Olaf!
As soon as Buffy had stepped across the threshold of the Magic Box, her mouth dropped open in shock. It looked like a bomb had gone off in the store. An entire counter/shelf arrangement that Xander had hand crafted lay in a splintered and jumbled heap on the floor. Its contents were smashed from where the unit used to sit all the way to the door she was standing in.
“Wow, Giles is going to be so pissed,” she said.
“Hey! That’s not fair, you helped!”
Both girls had balled their fists and began to glare at each other. As each began to yell at one another over who was more at fault and who was paying for the damage, Buffy put her fingers in her mouth. With a loud, sharp whistle she silenced the others.
“Just tell me what happened, what exactly a Troll’s powers are and which way it headed,” she sighed.
“Olaf was somebody I used to be involved with,” Anya started. “He was human, of course, but he cheated on me and lied to my face. Anyway, one curse later and he was a Troll. I figured the peasants would just, you know, banish him. Anyway, that’s how D'Hoffryn found me. He was so impressed that he offered to help me help other women get a little revenge and Anyanka was born. But now,
“That’s not how it happened! Look, Buffy, I was working on this teleport spell to send that hell-bitch to an alternate realm. You know, so you wouldn’t have to go fist to fist with her again. Anyway, it worked, but in exchange for the rabbit’s foot I sent, we got something back. And how did Olaf appear here anyway, if you spelled him when you were still human?”
“Oh,” Anya shrugged a little sheepishly. “He, uh, managed to burn down half of the village and no one was too thrilled with me. Before I left, I sent him to the caves of Asgard.”
“Okay,” Buffy interrupted. “I think it’s safe to say it doesn’t matter how he got here. Now that he is, what do I have to look out for?”
“Well, he’s really strong,” Anya stated. “And he can take some heavy punishment, so don’t bother holding back. Oh! And watch out for that hammer he’s carrying. It’s infused with Troll Magic, but how he managed to get it I couldn’t guess. It’s not exactly something that a Troll would just give up.”
“Great, so I just beat him into submission and drag his big butt back here for a return trip.
“That one’s easy; the nearest pub. Where the bastard will, no doubt, try to seduce a load bearing and stocky waitress!”
“Looks like it’s the after hours club on 6th and Varney, then. I’ll be back in a bit,” Buffy said as she turned on her heel.
Spike reached out in the dimness of candlelight for his Slayer only to jump up in panic as his hands met empty sheet. Looking around the small sleeping area, he leaped from the bed and struggled to find a pair of jeans. The ones he usually wore were missing, and that gave him a really bad feeling.
“Pet?! Buffy, darling?”
With no response, his panic ratcheted up a notch. It was even worse when he found the mausoleum above empty as well.
Oh, shit. If Buffy the Robot meets Buffy the Slayer, my ass is grass, he thought as he rushed out into the night.
Buffybot wandered Strawberry Hills, her keen eyesight and hearing abilities monitoring the night sights and sounds surrounding her. Her analysis software was sifting for any indication of the vampires that were her sworn duty to execute. These vampires weren’t like her beloved Spike. They weren’t handsome and sexy and funny and smart. They were just monsters and she needed to find and slay them. She beamed a wide smile as she wandered through the cemetery.
Opening a crypt door she peered with her night vision into the dark, enclosed space, but nothing stirred. To make sure, she went inside and opened the sepulcher in the center of the cement building, but all it contained were ashy remains and tattered cloth.
“You’re not a vampire,” she told the remains. “This search is concluded. You may go back to your activities.”
“The Slayer,” a voice greeted her from the doorway of the tomb.
“Oh! Hello, there.”
In front of the Buffybot stood three vampires, all of which were in game face. Of course, even if they weren’t, she’d have known. Her sensors weren’t picking up any heartbeats for one and for another, being the Slayer was top secret. Only her friends, her Watcher, her sister and mother and her lover knew her identity. Anyone else who called her that could safely be added to the Enemies Database.
“We’ve been searching for you. You’ve managed to kill our sire and our brothers and sisters, but now you’re going to pay for it,” the apparent leader growled at her.
Buffybot smiled her usual radiant, though empty grin. Although she hadn’t yet slain anything, her logic algorithms informed her it was 99 percent probable that he was referring to the other Buffy. Her programming further concluded that they could take credit for each other’s work since they were both Buffy.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to inflict emotional distress on you. But you are vampires, so I have a sacred duty.”
“Uh…, yeah, well, we’re going to see to it that your duty ends here.”
Buffybot raised the stake she held in her hand. Spike hadn’t provided her with any, so she’d broken off a fence post from one of the yards of Sunnydale.
“I think Mr. Posty will have something to say about that!”
She engaged her immortal enemies.
Buffy ran into the ‘ Rain’ after hour’s jazz club when she heard the screaming from within. As she entered, it was easy to pick out the Troll.
One of these things is not like the others…, the old
“I demand ale! I demand women for love! And I want babies to eat! Arrrgh!” Olaf glared at the people quaking around him, amused.
At first he’d been horribly pissed at Anyanka for sending him to Asgard, especially since he was quickly enslaved when he’d arrived. But after the first five years he’d managed to pick up the language and customs of the peoples there. And after sixteen years, he’d managed to kill his captor, steal his mighty hammer, Ururl, and obtain his freedom. Now he was strangely grateful to his former spouse for her quick temper and irresponsible magic. That was the only reason he hadn’t killed her when he’d espied her in the shop. Of course, he was still going to enslave her before he found a way to return home.
“Okay, why is it always babies with you things?” He heard a young girl’s voice from behind him. As he turned he found himself looking at a scrawny girl with her hips cocked and her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was dark and her makeup sparse. She was far too thin to be a proper wench.
She looked like she wished to appear tough, but she simply had no build to her. It would be laughable if it wasn’t irritating; why wasn’t she quaking with the rest of them?
“Cower, puny human! Olaf the Troll wanders your streets!”
“Do you really need to yell everything? I’m standing right here,” Buffy said. “Now, we can do things the right way, or we can do things where I beat you unconscious. Which is it going to be?”
Olaf let out a boisterous laugh that rattled the glassware in the club. Buffy thought even his laughter sounded a lot like yelling. Did he really need to be so loud?
“Oh, little sparrow-girl! You haven’t even the strong bones of a serving wench, let alone the build of a warrior. Pah! Go now; lest you anger me.”
“Sorry, but you have a return ticket to where-the-hell, and I’m here to make sure you board the magic train.” Buffy sized him up as she advanced, trying to decide between starting with some feints, or to go for a powerful side kick to his mid-section. She was acutely aware of the absolutely huge hammer as he began menacing her with it.
“I did warn you, little woman! You have no one to blame for your smashed bones, but yourself!”
Buffybot smiled widely as one vampire was sent flying into the mausoleum wall by a robot powered punch. At the same time, she was able to stake another attacker, when she felt her self lifted off of her feet. A moment later and she was slammed hard onto the cold, concrete slab of floor with the leader of the trio attempting to restrain her. She noted his fangs coming perilously close to her neck and worried that she’d be damaged. It would negatively affect Spike’s enjoyment of her later if she was marred by this vampire.
As she struggled to get the leverage she calculated she’d need, she felt the second vampire grab a firm hold on her legs, further restricting her movement.
“Spike will not be pleased if you mar my finish,” Buffybot reported.
“Spike is a traitor,” the leader spit. “I don’t really care what he thinks.”
Then as the Buffybot focused on twisting his wrists, he simultaneously leaned in. His fangs made contact with the side of her throat and she detected damage to her simul-skin covering. The vampire hissed, spitting a greenish fluid as he reared back, grimacing in distaste.
“What the hell?!”
Before the Buffybot had a chance to respond to the enquiry, there was the sound of a dusting vampire. The creature that the ‘bot could see beyond the shoulders of the leader disappeared in a rain of dust. She could see Spike standing over her and the last vampire and immediately smiled in response.
The leader had also heard the commotion behind him as well as sensing his fellow undead being slain. As he tried to twist his body to meet the unexpected threat at his back, while also moving into a standing position, Buffybot staked him handily, adding to the mess that now coated her.
“What are you doing out here, ducks?”
“Oh, Spike! My hero!”
Buffy grunted as she side stepped a blow by the Troll hammer, only to be launched into the air by a power-filled fist. She grunted again as she made a jarring stop via her impact with an internal post holding up a loft like area. Actually, it was set up much like the Bronze was, she realized. But any further comparisons to the Scoobies’ old hangout were interrupted by Olaf’s disturbingly loud and braying laughter as he strode toward her.
“A nice move, little one, to avoid my mighty hammer’s blow!”
Her only response was to leap into a round house kick which caught the large, green giant under his jaw. She was satisfied to see that she wasn’t the only one to be thrown around like a doll when he immediately flew into the band area, knocking over a set of drums and microphone stands.
“Somebody call 911!” Somebody in the crowd had yelled. But as Buffy passed she heard another voice inform the first that the police couldn’t help them. He’d urged the young lady to get to the exit and leave this sort of thing to Buffy.
“Trust me,” Buffy further heard, “This girl does this sort of thing all the time!”
Must be somebody from Sunnydale High School, she thought as she rained a few more blows on Olaf. Unfortunately, Anya hadn’t been lying about his resistance to injury. Buffy was laying as much of her strength into her punches to his head as she could manage, but he only seemed to be getting pissed. She wound up for a haymaker of a punch, but before the blow could be delivered, she found her self stumbling back into the central bar by a backhand to her chest.
“Well fought, girl. But now I am annoyed and thirsty. This will end now,” Olaf stated with finality as he brought his hammer around. And though Buffy tried to avoid the blow, she was only partially successful when her feet became tangled in a bar stool.
She felt the glancing blow to her stomach and was lifted into the air and across the room. The stool came with her, both of them hitting the floor quite hard. It immediately smashed apart on impact, while she only felt like she wanted to break. With a roll, she returned to her feet only to see Olaf holding an aluminum beer barrel over his head. Amber liquid streamed from a hole in its side, and he was greedily swallowing it down while allowing it to splash his face, his clothing and the floor whenever he closed his mouth momentarily.
She grabbed another chair from nearby and sent it arcing over the floor space between them. As it clobbered the Troll and sent him stumbling, he dropped the barrel with a loud crash. Beer continued to pool on the floor, overpowering the lingering cigarette smoke in the air with the smell of hops and yeast.
“Arrgh! Dammit, are you yet to be vanquished?! Surely you are a far more mighty warrior than at first I thought!” Olaf glared at her, a vein bulging and throbbing in his forehead. Despite the chair hitting him solidly to the head and face, he still remained far too undamaged for her liking.
Since when did all the bad guys get super powered, she sighed.
“If you would just come back to the Magic Box with me,” she tried to reason with him, “Then I wouldn’t have to keep beating on you.”
“And miss the baby eating? The wench loving? The beating on puny men and pillaging their homes? Hah! Where would the fun be in it?”
Buffy sighed. She knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.
Spike repeated his question to the Buffybot, “You shouldn’t be running around town like that.”
In response he received that same, unending, unchanging beaming grin. “I am fulfilling my destiny to save the world and the helpless from the creatures of the night that aren’t you,” she stated, her tone adoring.
“Yeah, well, that’s all nice. I think that Warren-nerd might have overdone the Slayer programming, though. If the other Buffy saw you, she’d be less than pleased.”
“The other Buffy is my sister Slayer. We also have another sister named Dawn. Dawn is not a Slayer.”
Spike wasn’t quite sure what the point of that statement was; perhaps she just spit out random facts when she thought a response was warranted, but didn’t understand the question?
“Yeah. So, ducks, why don’t we return to Spike’s crypt? We don’t want any of the Scoobies to see you wandering around town, now do we? Especially if they’re with the other not-so-pleasant Buffy. Like I said.”
“But the vampires, Spike? I should be patrolling.”
“Uh… I’ll take care of that tonight. You seem to be, uh, damaged, anyway?”
“Oh, my injury is cosmetic and negligible. Vampires can’t drink my temperature regulating fluid,” she smiled.
In fact, she didn’t seem to ever stop smiling. Spike didn’t realize how much he’d find it cloying after only a few days.
“Of course, you are my Love,” Buffybot went on. “I do wish to please you. I will return to the crypt and await your arrival from patrolling, at which time you can ravage me.”
With this the Buffybot left Spike standing and watching after her. The fluid leak from her throat seemed to be dwindling with only a small loss, as far as he could judge these things. He hoped she didn’t overheat, or explode or anything. As he walked behind her to the cemetery’s exit, he thought again that having her built had probably been one of his least bright ideas.
Olaf charged at the Slayer, his hammer flying wildly and smashing a large round table and its six seats and sending debris in every direction. She was able to handily dodge the hammer this time. Though it may have delivered a powerful blow, fortunately, it wasn’t much for close quarters combat and except for that one glancing hit; she’d been able to dodge her away around, under, or over it.
She couldn’t say much for the interior of ‘ Rain’, however. Somebody was getting stuck with one heck of a repair bill. The floor was cracked and contained huge pot holes where the hammer had rained blows down upon it. Tables and chairs were strewn about randomly, many of them smashed beyond use. The bar was deeply pockmarked with cracks. Next to this place, Giles had gotten off really lightly at the Magic Box.
“If you’d just,” Buffy grunted as she grabbed Olaf’s flying wrist and used his own momentum against him to send him stumbling into a brick wall, “Cooperate!”
“I am getting enraged! I will smash you!”
“What are you, the Hulk? Don’t you want to go home where you can fight with your fellow Trolls-es?” Buffy lashed out with a few kicks which connected nicely with his waist and kneecap. However, she also took a punch to the face that had her wondering if he’d just broken her nose.
Olaf didn’t answer, instead swinging his large hammer again. This time, he found his wrist once again caught, but unlike up until this point, the unusually powerful and limber dark haired girl wrenched his wrist until he lost hold of Ururl. The hammer fell heavily to the floor with a flat, loud, clang. With three forearm blows to his face, he’d had no choice but to stumble backward into the wall again.
Buffy snatched up the hammer from the floor, feeling its weight. And it was heavy; much more massive than her usual arsenal. She looked at Olaf’s awe-struck expression and hefted the hammer in front of her.
“So, do we want to surrender now? Or do I have to bash you with this thing?”
“Arrgh! No puny girl should be able to lift my mighty hammer! It is bewitched! I order you to put it down, at once!”
As Olaf rushed her, Buffy sighed. “Right. Bashing, it is.”
A moment later and Olaf the Troll was lying flat on the floor, deeply unconscious. Slinging the war hammer over one shoulder and his prone form over her other, Buffy trudged back to the shop. She was really, really hoping that
End Chapter 03