stock: typewriter

Fic :: To Err is Human

Title:: To Err is Human
Disclaimer :: I do not own these characters and no profit is being made from the use of them.
Fandom :: BtVS/Stargate
Timeline :: The summer between season 5 and 6 of BtVS and during the episode, “Menace,” of Stargate SG-1
Note :: I’m not entirely sure that I should continue this particular story so feedback (good, bad or indifferent) would be greatly appreciated.
Synopsis :: All she wanted was a friend. 

Chapter 1:
The paper crinkled as she turned another page in the magazine filled with images of Daniel’s planet. Reece’s head inclined, brown eyes widening with the sight of a creature with wider eyes and luminous skin. She caught the edge of the page with her fingers and placed another along the seam before she tore the colorful image free and rose. Pushing the chair on wheels away so that she could step back from the desk and move to the board Daniel had the men, who wore constant frowns, place along the wall across from her bed.
She held the picture up beneath the one of a purple and blue sky and grabbed the bit of plastic and metal that she used to hold her pictures in place. She straightened the edges and stepped back, admiring her work. That curious gaze studied the creatures within the photograph but they stared up and away from Reece, whose lips dipped in annoyance and she spun on her boot heel to look around her room. The wall above her bed held a large window and the woman named Sam wasn’t there, no one was there.
A boot stamped and her shoulders dropped before Reece crossed the small room to sit on her bed, arms rising to dig elbows into her knees as she stared blankly at the wall. A bottom heavy mouth dipped and she sighed, Daniel was nice—a little dull—but still very nice, except she was bored. Reese dragged said bottom lip between her teeth and glanced up at the empty room above her once more before closing her eyes and concentrating like her father had taught her.
All she really wanted was a friend.
Approximately 1106 Miles West
The iris tightened, pupils contracting as the body jerked, bending at the waist so that she sat up. Blonde hair spilled down her back, slipping forward to brush the slopes of her cheeks as a pointed chin dipped and a hand rose from the crochet comforter. Pale fingers wrapping around the cord protruding from her abdomen and she gaze a sharp tug, dislodging it and the generator beside the bed clicked before shutting off.
Her head inclined as she rolled the prosthetic skin back into place—covering her innards as Spike would say—a smile spilled across her features as the Buffybot rose from the bed. Careful not to disturb Dawn and made her way to the closet that housed her biological counterpart’s belongings. She squatted and removed a pair of black boots before rising and moving toward the dresser to collect socks.
She returned to the bed to put on the required garments for outside use and her movements were quick and efficient as she tugged the zipper up on the last boot up and stood once more, smoothing the pink skirt that covered her lower half and turned, gazed down at her sister and smiled before chirping, “Be back soon.”
Her steps were quick and agile as she skipped down the stairs and made her way to the front door. The brass knob was an unusually cold temperature and she paused, calculating her tank top and skirt. Her head cocked, the soft curls that Tara had placed in her hair moved in a pleasing fashion around her bare shoulders but it was highly unlikely for a human to go outside without a coat. She turned back, retracing her steps to the hall closet and removed the leather jacket Willow always neatly hung after their patrols.
She slipped her arms into the sleeves and made her way back to the front door and into the night. Still smiling, still cheerful because someone needed her and it was important for a Slayer to go where she was needed.
The soft crunch of her boots over dirt and grass was the only companion to the Buffybot’s stride as she made her way past the ‘Now Leaving Sunnydale, come back soon…’ sign and further down the road. Her hips held the extra sway that Spike had once liked—before he stopped looking at her—and Willow had been unable to remove from her programming. A breeze picked up from further north and swept her hair forward to tangle around her face and she paused, hands rising to clear her vision as a car passed her and braked several feet ahead. Brushing back the looses strands she watched as red lights turned yellow and the vehicle slowly backed up, crunching the gravel beside the road much as her boots did.
A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as the window, now directly in front from her, rolled down and a male, approximate age twenty-three, leaned forward to return her smile. “Hey.”
Her lips spread wider, “Hello!”
His head inclined with her cheerfulness and he asked, “Car break down?”

She shook her head, “I don’t have a mode of transportation other than my feet.” He snorted and her lips dipped with the sound—confused by it—and she offered, “God bless you.”
He blinked. “Where you headed?”
She straightened and the hazel of her eyes spiraled down as she caught the signal that had been calling her for the last three hours. She bent at her waist and offered, “East.”
He nodded. “Alright. I’m headin’ to Vegas. That far enough east for you?”
Her lips dipped. “I am not sure.”
He leaned closer to the door and flipped the handle so that it opened. “How ‘bout you decide when we get there?”
“That would be helpful.” She caught the top of the door and pulled it open before slipping into the passenger seat. Her fingers wrapped around the window’s edge and pulled the door closed with enough force to rock the car.
“Whoa!” She turned, looked into a pair of hazel flecked eyes that crinkled at the corners as the male smiled at her. “Careful with her. She’s a classic.”
Perfectly slopped brows pulled together, forming a wrinkle between them as the Buffybot frowned. “Your vehicle is female? How do you know this?”
His lips quirked, “I just do.”
“I am female.”
He blinked, “I’d noticed,” and shifted the car into gear before pulling away from the side of the road. “Name’s Dean.”
She smiled and offered brightly, “I’m Buffy!”
The driver’s side door groaned its way open and she turned, watched her newest friend Dean pull himself free of his vehicle and into the vibrant lights surrounding them. Her hand grasped the handle and nudged it down, releasing the catch so that she too could rise from the car and into the still lightly chilled air. The Buffybot turned, watched Dean arch his back and the bottom of his cotton shirt road up beneath his own leather jacket, which seemed a few sizes too large for his compact frame but still fit him nicely—though not as nicely as it would have fit Spike.
“So we’re here.”
Her gaze rose from her study of his washboard abs to see the lazy smile he offered her and she returned it. “We are.” Her brows slopped down as she felt the same familiar stirring to move and she shook her head, “But I am needed much further east.” Her head inclined and she amended, “Northeast.”
“Well then you might want to think about getting your own ride. This is my stop, sweetheart.” His smile widened and he asked, “Share a drink with me before you head out?”
“I don’t require refreshment, but thank you!” She stepped back from the vehicle and closed the door—careful not to hurt Dean’s lady—and then spun on her boot heel and began to make her way further down the street and onto the wide sidewalk. Dean’s voice rose after her but was swallowed up by the staccato sounds from the passersby and she was unable to differentiate his words from the white noise.
Her head inclined as she watched the vehicles slip in and around one another as if vying for the perfect spot before they were stopped by a red light. Her stride continued and the lights around her brightened, lightening the surrounding area to nearly day as she made her way deeper into the city and past several men offering her pornography. She accepted the small pamphlets with several words and phrases of thanks and slipped them into her coat pockets and made her way further into the city. The Buffybot paused when she saw a motorcycle—similar to the one Spike owned—pass her and turn down a side street.
She crossed the same street, ignorant of the squeal of breaks, shouts and honks as she offered them a polite wave and followed the slim figure as it cut a path away from the brilliance surround her and between the large buildings that dominated Las Vegas Blvd. A red light flared at her as she quickened her steps and caught up to the motorcyclist after he had removed his helmet and was freeing a brown paper sack from the back of the bike.
He looked up, hazel eyes widening at the sight of her and the Buffybot stepped forward as he offered her a stuttering, “H-hi!” in return.
She smiled. “I need a favor.”
The young man, barely skimming his late teens, swallowed. “H-how can I help you?”
“I require your vehicle.”
His back stiffened and she mimicked the movement, rolling her shoulders back as she came to stand directly in front of him. “Excuse me?”
“Are you going to let me borrow it?”
“That is too bad.” She shrugged and then cocked her head before her fist collided with his jaw and sent him sprawled across the pavement. His eyes closed and he lay there, unmoving as she bent and picked up the brown sack from the ground. The Buffybot stepped over his prone form and gently placed the package on his chest before patting his head, “I will attempt to return it to you as soon as I am able.”
She crossed to the bike and placed the helmet on her head before straddling the seat and the turning the key. The engine coughed to life between her thighs with a heavy vibration that was almost as exciting as Spike before she brought the kickstand up and turned the motorcycle around with ease—just as she was programmed—before slipping back into traffic and heading northeast.
A pointed chin rose, eyes narrowing on the fifteen foot tall fence standing between her and her destination. Her head inclined, blonde hair falling flat against her back after nearly thirteen hours of traveling, searching. She had lost the motorcycle along the side of the highway in Utah after its engine had begun to smoke and cough before staling and being unwilling to restart.
Several pleasant faced men had offered her rides that had been gratefully accepted but on numerous occasions she had been forced to deter their advances with brute force—a tedious task. Unconcerned with the past the Buffybot stepped sluggishly forward, slipped her fingers through the metal links of the fence before she sagged to her knees. Power failing as several armed men approached and her eyes lost focus as the world around her began to darken.
“Miss? Miss you can’t be here. This is a secured area.”  
A solid hand settled on her shoulder and tugged at her hand holding onto the fence and the metal bowed as she collapsed onto her side. The soldier stepped back, his gun trained on her chest as she focused on his startled face and asked, “Do you know the way?”
“Miss, are you alright?”
The hand gripping the fence released and fell to the compact dirt beside her and she offered him a slow but still brilliant smile. “I am-am-am-am…”
The world faded to black.
  • Current Location: Home
  • Current Mood: curious curious
  • Current Music: Not Pretty Enough - Kasey Chambers
Ooo. I'm not sure anyone's ever used Reece in a crossover with Buffy before. Interesting. Definitely worthy of continuation.
Well if you like it then I have to continue it. ;)

*scampers off to drag up a word file*
The amount of OTP i end up with, thanks to you, hun.

*shakes head, then searches for list*

I liked the fic though. Plus you added dean, even as a side dish, he was cool ;D

I haven't a clue who the guy on the motorbike was supposed ot be though?. . . .clue?