crack_van | Cubed by Miss Murchison (R)

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Length: 20,000 words
Author on LJ:

missmurchison
Author Website: Chiaroscuro

Why this must be read:
It's a well-constructed, Agatha Christie-worthy detective story, with many twists and turns and absolutely unexpected ending. It's a sharp, biting satire on corporate culture. It's a solid, clever character study that lets everybody shine in their own ways.
Set in alternate season 6 with no angst Cubed is about Buffy's attempts to find a good job - and, at the same time, to solve a mysterious string of deaths in Ashiana Industries - "accidents, dismemberments, freak poisonings. All kinds of weird and nasty". Buffy and Spike get hired and start working undercover at a large company, where they must hunt down a murderer amid the cubicles while coping with PowerPoint Presentations and the Coffee Fund Rules. The story sparkles with good-natured humor from the first to the last page.

Willow bounced through the door, demanding to know what Buffy had found out.

"That work is boring and my cubicle is not egomatically designed."

"I think you mean ergonomically." Tara began making coffee in preparation for the night's research.

"Well, I am sure my boss is monomaniacly inclined." Buffy noticed that Spike had wandered into the kitchen too and casually placed himself next to her. "And Spike has a job there too," she admitted.

"Ooooh!" Willow looked up from unpacking her laptop. "That's good. You have backup."

Spike nudged up behind Buffy and whispered, "That's right, Slayer. I've got your—back."

Buffy shoved his hand away from her butt and looked around to see if anyone else had noticed.

"Wait." All the Scoobies were clustering together, moving between the kitchen and dining room, and Xander had heard at least part of the last exchange. "Spike got an office job? What alternative universe is this place located in? And what happened to the cab driving gig?"

"The cab is out of commission, and I'm not a desk jockey." Spike opened the fridge, noted the beer was gone, and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I work in what they call Facilities, which seems to mean wandering about and using a screwdriver every once in a while." He pulled a flask out of his pocket and dumped some of the contents in his mug. "Since screwing is one of my strong suits—"

Xander interrupted. "Heh, heh, Spike's a janitor!"

"Am not!"

"He's right," Buffy got between them before shoving and chip activation could take place. "He's supposed to repair stuff. They have a separate staff for cleaning bathrooms and emptying wastebaskets." She smirked. "I understand that Facilities is responsible for shampooing the carpet, though. How are your shampooing skills, Spike?"

Willow was set up in full research mode. "I've been trying to calculate probabilities all day, but it’s weird that there’s no one MO for these murders. Most killers have a special style they like to stick to. With this guy, it’s as if he doesn’t care how they wind up dead. He just uses whatever happens to be at hand to kill them."

Buffy looked over her shoulder. "Hey, is that MS Access you're using?"

"Yeah." Willow looked surprised. "I've put each death in a database with method, location, time, and some other factors."

"Can you show me how you did that?" Buffy edged her chair closer.

Dawn and Tara joined the crowd at the table, bearing bowls of potato chips and carrot sticks respectively. Tara frowned at the chips but made no comment.

"You want to help me filter death scenarios?"

"No, I want to keep my boss from verbally eviscerating me because I can't do the same thing with budget numbers."

Anya looked over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen. "Well, if you think that your job is more important than finding the thing that almost killed poor Xander and caused damage to his car in excess of the insured value, then I suppose we just have to understand that."

"Okay," said Buffy sulkily. "Slayage before work." She glanced sideways at Spike. "I suppose eventually there will be some pleasure." She leaned over and looked at the paper in front of her sister. "How's your research coming? What’s with all the calculations? Is that a numerology thing?"

"Uh, not exactly," confessed Dawn. "I couldn’t find out anything about your demon, so I’m picking numbers for the lottery. Spike, what’s your favorite number?"

"Sixty-nine," said Spike automatically.

Buffy looked amused until Dawn giggled, then she cast him a glance of outrage. His eyebrows rose and she frowned. "You’re not being much help either," she said. "Or did you find out anything today?"

"A bit. Most of Marketing and Human Resources are demons."

"Doesn’t surprise me," said Buffy, remembering the chilling gaze of the woman who had hired her.

Spike snickered. "Yeah, Human Resources. Sounds like a vampire cafeteria. Turns out it’s a job for people who—"

"Yes, Spike, we know what their job is," said Willow wearily. "What kind of demons are they and what are they up to?"

"Not much. They’re just your basic emotional parasites. Drain people’s sense of purpose and ability to enjoy life. Feed off it somehow. Common buggers. Gravitate to jobs like that in Sunnydale, well, and all over the world, really. But their victims usually recover as soon as they’re out of psychic range. There are lots of these demons all over Sunnydale; this lot aren’t your big bad and barely worth the Slayer’s notice."

"Except when they’re sucking her emotional energy," grumped Buffy, remembering her job interview. She made a mental note to steer clear of Human Resources.

"Also, that wanker who was showing you around this morning."

Buffy's hand stopped on its way to snag a potato chip. "Harry's a demon?"

"Yeah. An assenssus demon."

"Sounds dangerous." Dawn's hand dodged past Buffy to scoop up chips.

"Not really." Anya was standing by the fridge, a cup of coffee in her hand and a frown on her face. "They're approval-seekers. They feed off praise."

"Explains a lot." Buffy cheered up. "In fact, I can't ever remember being so glad to find out someone was a demon. Makes me feel much better to know no human could be that much of a nerd."

Willow was peering at her laptop. "Found an entry on them. They're ranked as harmless. In fact, it says here that they make good housekeepers, if you can stand their constant need for attention."

"If you kept an assensus, you wouldn't always be out of coffee creamer." Anya sat down at the table. "They're efficient shoppers too. Always clip coupons."

Buffy glanced at the messy kitchen and toyed with the idea of taking Harry home, but remembered how annoying he'd managed to be during the time she'd known him. Better not.

"Don't want one of that lot around here. Bunch of bleaters," was Spike's assessment.

Buffy decided to change the subject. "I did notice this weird smell from one of the cubicles about four aisles down from mine, so I talked to some of the people nearby, and they said they think the guy who sits there is keeping something freaky in his desk drawer."

"Rats," said Spike.

"Why, did you miss one, oh mighty smeller of demons?" asked Xander.

"No, Harris, the guy has rats in his drawer. Keeps a litter box and a supply at hand. His kind only like live meat, but they don't eat anything much bigger than Speedy Gonzalez either. He's not likely to be killing humans."

"It seems like Spike's doing most of the detecting on this job." Anya regarded Buffy over the rim of her coffee mug. "Since you didn't accomplish much, I don't see why you didn't have enough time to buy creamer this afternoon."

Cubed by Miss Murchison