Resurrection of the Xanderbot - Camisha

Resurrection of the Xanderbot


By Camisha


So here I am, post SI, wondering what to do with myself (besides the fun and exciting cowriting project I'm working on). I mention to _beetle_ that I'm thinking about a sequel to "Three's a Crowd."

_beetle_ says, "Xanderbot! Xanderbot!"

I say, "No. No Xanderbot." I tell her my idea.

_beetle_ says, "Xanderbot! Xanderbot!"

So I write this wee ficlet for the pushy little wench, which takes place in the "Three's a Crowd" 'verse, but has nothing to do with my proposed sequel and probably doesn't even coexist with the reality of that sequel. So it's just for fun, and will make sense without reading the original story as long as you know that Spike created a Xanderbot instead of a Buffybot.


"Whatcha doin'?" Dawn asked.

"Nothing," Willow said. "Just trying to see how he's, I mean, it's engineered."

"You're trying to get it working again, aren't you? Ooh, Xander's gonna be soooo mad..."

"It's just such a fascinating piece of technology. And not if you don't tell him about it."

Dawn considered. "Fine, I won't tell him... if you let me play with the bot."

"Play?" Willow faced twisted in an expression of horrified disgust. "Oh my God. Ew. Ew, ew, ew. And did I mention, ew?"

"What? Don't tell me that if you were still straight, you wouldn't be tempted."

"You're a kid, Dawn. Your thoughts are supposed to be pure. And I would not. And again I say 'ew!'"

Dawn pouted. "Is that a no?"

"Yes, that's a no on the general principle that it would be wrong, wrong, wrong," Willow said as she connected one last wire and snapped a panel shut. "Plus, I'm pretty sure the bot only has eyes for Spike."

The Xanderbot's eyes popped open. "Spike!" it repeated enthusiastically. "Tell me, where is my incorrigibly evil, wickedly sexy, supernaturally strong and utterly irresitible master?"

"Um, I'm not sure..." Willow hedged.

"Well then I must find him." The Xanderbot started across the basement toward the stairs. "Certainly his long, hard cock is in need of servicing."

"Servi--?" Dawn's question was cut short when Willow's hand clamped over her mouth.

"Do. Not. Ask," Willow said.

"Whuh? Ufcoingerfotewhunoutungkuhbuhuh."

"No," Willow said, keeping her hand firmly in place. "It is not kind of hot when you think about it. And we are not thinking about it."

The bot, already halfway up the stairs, turned back and smiled.

"Oh, and thank you so much for fixing me, Willow, my gay and not-half-bad friend. If Spike permits me to talk and does not keep my mouth busy with other tasks, I will be certain to let him know that it was you who gave him back his hot little piece of slut ass."

Willow and Dawn gaped as that ass disappeared through the basement door.


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