BtVS by Whedon and Mutant Enemy. TMNT (1987-1996) by Laird, Eastman and Wolf Films.

Summer between Buffy Seasons 5&6. TMNT Season 3 or so, somewhere around the time they pull a version of Miyamoto Usagi Yojimbo, the samurai/ronin rabbit, from his home reality.

It's too bad the sketches, summaries and the four minute pilot for Buffy the Animated Series that Whedon and Loeb produced never really went anywhere in our dimension. Would have been cool. :)

Fic-For-All Prompt at Twisting the Hellmouth. Slightly AU in that the portal works in a useful way.

I, Rupert Giles, was growing frustrated... Or rather, I was feeling useless.

My... Our Slayer had been gone for over a month. I was wasting my Summer trying to instill ancient ideals into a machine.

I wanted to help. I felt that the faux-Slayer would be better for my teachings.

Limitations... Proper breathing patterns are simply not applicable... Meditation for the robotic mind. Do robots dream of electrocuting vampires?

Ahem. My point is, that my mind was free to wander. Life was routine. Apocalypse season had passed. I wanted to break free of my rut... And a surprising opportunity opened up.

It had started out as a normal training session, until a shimmering blue window opened in mid-air and a rat stepped through.

It was roughly humanoid and brownish-grey in color. It wore a purple robe tied about its waist.


The Buffybot shifted ever so slightly. While remaining open and friendly in appearance, her new position allowed her free range of movement, to attack or defend based on my commands or her own deductions.

I was impressed by her finesse. At least some of my training was sticking with her.

As I opened my mouth to speak, she interrupted with her perennially cheerful voice: "Hello, I'm Buffy Summers. You're a rat. We haven't any cheese today."

... She was far from perfect.

"That is alright, my dear," the rat said in slightly accented English. "I prefer sushi."

"Ahem," I interrupted, fearing a useless string of dialog. "Our customers... Patrons of the magic store above us, generally use the front doors as a means of entry... May I help you?"

"Yes," he said, beginning his tale. "I come from a different reality where mutants, such as myself, and alien technology have a very strong foothold on Earth. Normally, those who wish to turn their energies to the destruction of humanity are held in check by my young wards, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

"I see," I said, for it was apparent he expected some sort of comment.

"Yes. They are normally able to solve their problems alone, or with my guidance, but today we are facing problems severely beyond the norm. A disease is spreading throughout our city. It gives its victims an overpowering desire for blood, inflated egos, and large black wings. I personally suspect a mutagen-enhanced vampire bat will be found to be the root cause, but until then we are severely outnumbered by violent people that do not deserve to be killed."

"We don't have a policy of killing humans either," I said, with a twinge of uncertain emotion. "And we will be glad to help in anyway possible to halt the spread and find a cure. But, I have to say, Master Splinter, that your reality bears a striking resemblance to a series of movies native to this one."

"Well, that is to be expected, Mr. Giles," the rat countered, undismayed. "How do you think we knew to come here for help?"

I stood there for a span of time, unsure of what to say. The Buffybot took this as a sign she should speak up.

"Cartoons are educational," she said brightly. "What's sushi?"


Not wanting further interruptions, I decided to distract the Buffybot by activating her memory routines.

"Ahem, Buffy, we did spend some time researching Japanese culture," I said, nodding to the katana on the wall. "I imagine that if you sat down and thought about it, the answer would come to you."

Neither wanting to insult the honorable rat nor imply that he was more than my equal, we spent a few moments discussing what to call each other. We quickly decided that he would be 'Splinter' and I would be 'Giles' as even the fictional counterparts of my wards effectively refuse to use my first name.

"Splinter," I said, carefully phrasing my words. "It's not that I doubt your words but this is not a point in our timeline where we can take such things lightly. Would you submit to a limited scan of your memories? It's a very simple cantrip, visual-only, meant to read the impression the subject has of the caster."

At his request, I clarified the spell a bit more, describing its first use at a wizard's roast as a way to sharpen the participants' memories and, hopefully, their wit.

The materials were simple and already present in the training room so, with a few minutes work, we were ready to begin.

"Memor sum meo iudicio," I chanted, wincing at the horribly butchered Latin that some dimwit had mixed into the spell. "Aliquantulum."


Seated at a couch, TV in sight. Leonardo to my left, Donatello to my right.

Cartoon images of a Watcher and a Slayer walking through a graveyard under a bold purple sky.

A stunning expanse of a library. A young brunette girl falling asleep on the shoulder of a black-haired man. The Watcher lifts his glasses and sighs.

The Watcher's face, drawn much younger, stares out from a thin box marked 'The first Direct-to-DVD Feature-Length Movie starring the cast of the Buffy/Angel Hour: Ripper!'

... An old wizened alien who mimics the Watcher in his movements ...

... ... A small, aged turtle with glasses and a drawer in his chest ...

... The large cover of a comic book depicting night with moon


I took a step away and stumbled slightly, a large headache coming on.

The Buffybot noticed my pain and brought a chair over, smiling sweetly. "I see you've been inside his head," she stated. "Feel a large craving for cheese?"

"No, Buffy, this isn't a cartoon. Although I wish the Sunnydale library really had been three stories tall with a spiral staircase and a chandelier. Appears it's the price we pay for living in reality without an unlimited art budget..."

My head swam with the revelations. Knowing my own history, I suppressed a slight shudder at exactly what a 'Ripper' special might entail.


It was amazing, really. The impression I'd seen in his mind of a young Dawn visiting the animated school matched up fairly well with the memories I had of her at that point in her life which, of course, had been magically inserted into my head by monks...

If he truly had no idea that Dawn was the Key then it wasn't my place to ask how that had happened...

"Pardon me," Splinter said, interrupting politely. "I can't help but notice that while you match up fairly well with your animated counterpart, this version of Buffy doesn't sound quite - herself."

"I see. Not to spoil your enjoyment of, ah, future seasons, but our Slayer doesn't... exist at the moment. This is her robot double."

"Yes," he said, his expression uncertain. "That must be it."


I cautioned him on the importance of keeping a close lid on the information while he was in our reality.

The last thing we needed was word of the Slayer's current status leaking into the underground.

He in turn informed me that time was of the essence as, at any moment, someone who knew the location of the turtles' lair might become infected and lead others to it.

Nodding my head, the Buffybot in tow, we emerged into the main room of the Magic Box, prepared to break the news to the rest of the troops.


Xander's immediate reaction was, as I've since been told, rather insistently in fact, something called a 'very manly squee'.