The Botnapping

Buffy the Vampire Slayer – “The Botnapping”

A character-driven story, leaning into the tension of Buffy confronting a version of herself that was never meant to exist outside Spike’s fantasies, the buffybot is stolen by Glory, and Buffy races to stop a hell god from using a machine built in her own image to tear the world open again.

Prologue

The night air over Sunnydale felt wrong.

Buffy could sense it before she even reached the warehouse district — a hum, a vibration, like the Hellmouth itself was holding its breath. She sprinted across the cracked pavement, heart pounding, stake in hand, mind racing with one thought she hated having:

Glory had the Buffybot.

Spike had been frantic when he told her. “I didn’t give her to Glory,” he’d insisted, pacing like a caged animal. “She took it. Ripped the bloody door off its hinges and walked out with her like she was a new handbag.”

Buffy hadn’t answered. She didn’t trust herself not to say something she’d regret.

Now, as she approached the warehouse, she heard it — her own voice. Bright. Perky. Wrong.

“Hi! I’m Buffy! I like to slay things!”

Buffy winced. “Oh, God. She’s monologuing.”

Inside, Glory circled the Buffybot like a jeweler admiring a stolen diamond. “You’re perfect,” she purred. “A Slayer-shaped key. A Slayer-shaped tool. A Slayer-shaped… whatever. You’ll open my portal, and I’ll finally go home.”

The Buffybot beamed. “I love helping! Do you need something staked? Or hugged?”

Buffy stepped into the light. “How about neither.”

Glory’s smile sharpened. “Well, look who finally showed up. The original. The prototype.”

Buffy ignored her. She looked at the Buffybot — her own face staring back, eyes wide, hopeful, empty. “You weren’t made for this,” she whispered.

The Buffybot tilted her head. “Hello Buffy! Spike says you’re very strong and very pretty and very—”

“Okay, we’re done with that,” Buffy muttered.

Glory clapped her hands. “Let’s skip the emotional reunion. I’ve got a portal to open.”

She grabbed the Buffybot by the arm — and the bot’s eyes flickered, a spark of something like fear. “Buffy,” she said softly, “I don’t want to hurt the world.”

Buffy froze.

Spike had programmed loyalty. Obedience. But fear? Choice?

Maybe the bot had learned something on her own.

Glory yanked harder. “Come on, toaster. Time to make me a doorway.”

Buffy moved.

The fight was brutal, fast, and messy — Glory tossing her through crates, Buffy grabbing chains, pipes, anything she could use to slow a hell-god down. The Buffybot tried to help, throwing herself between them, taking hits meant for Buffy, sparks flying from her chest.

“Buffy,” the bot said, voice glitching, “you must… stop… her.”

“I’m trying!” Buffy shouted, dodging a punch that would’ve turned her skull into soup.

The bot’s eyes flickered again — then steadied.

“Then I will help.”

She launched herself at Glory, wrapping her arms around the god’s waist like a malfunctioning cheerleader. “Initiating restraining protocol!”

Glory shrieked. “Get off me, you plastic parasite!”

Buffy didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a steel beam, swung with everything she had, and slammed it into the machinery Glory had set up — the portal generator cobbled together from stolen magic and stolen tech.

It exploded in a burst of light.

Glory screamed, thrown backward through a collapsing wall.

The Buffybot collapsed too, sparks sputtering from her chest.

Buffy dropped to her knees beside her. “Hey. Hey, stay with me.”

The bot smiled weakly. “Did I… save the world?”

“Yeah,” Buffy whispered. “You did.”

“Spike will be… proud.”

Buffy swallowed hard. “Yeah. He will.”

The bot’s eyes dimmed. “Good. I like… making people… happy…”

Her voice faded into silence.

Buffy sat there for a long moment, staring at the still face that looked so much like hers — but wasn’t. A reflection of what she could’ve been if she’d never had pain, or fear, or choice.

A reflection Glory had tried to use to end everything.

Buffy stood, wiping her eyes. “No more bots,” she said aloud. “No more shortcuts. No more copies.”

She walked out of the warehouse, leaving the broken machine behind.

The world was safe — for now.

But she knew Glory wasn’t done.

And neither was she.