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Chapter 4
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The crypt was slightly smoky as its occupant lounged in the armchair, watching the end of another sappy chick flick. Buffy was enjoying the benefits of a vampire body to the hilt. She had polished off most of Spike’s stash of whiskey, finally developing a buzz after the second bottle, and was experimenting with smoking. She had tried it once as a freshman in high school, and had found the taste disgusting. But Spike’s taste buds were dull enough that it was just pleasant. Plus Spike’s body had been developing nicotine cravings all afternoon, and Buffy got tired of feeling jittery while being stuck inside. She was starting to get the hang of lighting them, and now was enjoying a final shot of whiskey and a last drag as the movie ended.
 
Not quite a day at the spa, but this was soooo relaxing, she thought. She got up and stretched, looking out the window. The sun was nearly down, but she wasn’t sure how dark it had to be to avoid combustion, so she thought she would wait a little longer. She went back downstairs to poke around a little more. She found Spike’s duster and put it on, running her hands down the supple leather. This coat really does feel good to wear. Totally broken in just right, even if it is hugely out of date. She really wished she could see if Spike’s hair looked decent before she went out, but the lack of mirrors was a reminder that that wasn’t going to happen. She did her best with Spike’s comb, but left out the gel for once. His hair felt pleasantly curly when it was loose, and she remembered guiltily how gorgeous his hair had looked the morning after their sexathon. He’ll thank me later for making him look better.
 
She went upstairs and found that at last the sun had gone down. Closing the crypt door behind her, she went off across the cemetery. Guess I should hit the Magic Box on the way home. I’m sure he’s probably there trying to figure out how to get his body back. Buffy wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to go back to bills and Slaying, but she supposed she had to at some point. With a sigh she forced herself to keep moving toward the Magic Box.
 
She left the cemetery and wandered through the streets of Sunnydale. Restfield opened onto some of the seedier parts of town, with all manner of shady characters lurking in corners. She found that she could hear many tiny little sounds that she normally couldn’t, like rats scuttling and the occasional figure ducking into an alley. Rounding a corner, she headed toward the more populated areas, rather fascinated by the difference the vampire senses made.
 
“Spike! Been looking for you!” a voice called as she passed an alley. She walked on a step or two, until it registered that whoever it was wanted to get her attention. She turned to see a largish demon with gray skin and tiny white horns coming out of an alley along with two figures that looked human, but were probably vampires given the company they kept.
 
“What do you want?” she asked warily.
 
“The money you owe me,” said the demon with a snarl.
 
Oh great. I get to deal with Spike’s gambling debts. “I… um… I don’t have it on me right now,” she sputtered lamely.
 
“Yeah, you said that last time too,” he said. “I thought you needed a little reminder.” The two human looking figures advanced on her, and she instinctively moved into a fighting stance. The approaching figures were armed with baseball bats, and had a couple inches of height on her current form.
 
“Look, I’m sure we could work this out peacefully,” she said. She wasn’t particularly worried, given her inherent Slayer instincts coupled with a fairly non-destructible vampire body. She just had to avoid wooden things to the chest. No problem.
 
“We will. After my friends here give you a few lessons on the importance of paying your debts,” the demon said with a grin. The two men rushed her then and she ducked under one swinging bat before aiming a kick at the other – only to find herself blinded by an agonizing pain in her skull.
 
The demon laughed as he saw her stagger back. “Did I mention these guys are human? I seem to recall having heard you have some issues with fighting humans these days. Too bad,” he said in mock sympathy.
 
One of those humans managed to land a blow that cracked a rib and she staggered back further, trying to clear her head. She was able to block another swing of the bat at the cost of a painful bruise to the arm, but she still found she was seeing double from the pain in her head. As the two men circled her she did her best to duck and redirect them. She managed to use one’s momentum to send him into a wall, but the act of grabbing him set off the chip again, causing her to roar in pain. The other one charged her and she jumped at the last minute, grabbing a fire escape over head and letting the attacker pass comically below her. I gotta get out of here, she thought desperately. She pulled herself the rest of the way up onto the fire escape, grateful for the wiry strength of her borrowed body, and dashed up the stairs to the roof. “Get up there and get after him!” she heard the demon shout, but she didn’t pause for a moment in her flight. She got up to the top floor, kicked in a window, and dived into some sort of office. She sped through the building to locate a staircase and climbed to the roof. Sprinting across the roof she managed to leap to the next building, then the next, before finally venturing down another fire escape to street level. Listening intently, she heard no sounds of pursuit, and didn’t smell anything nearby either. With a sigh of relief she sagged against the wall of the building.
 
Holy shit this hurts, she thought. She gently felt Spike’s ribs, and one of them definitely gave in a very unpleasant way. Good thing I don’t need to breathe at present, she mused, grateful for small favors. Her head felt even worse than her ribs. The ache just went on and on, and seemed to come from deep inside her brain, like an electric shock delivered with an ice pick. She found herself feeling a bit sorry for Spike. He has to deal with this every time he hits someone? I mean, I can’t have him eating people, but it seems unfair that he can’t even defend himself. She felt a little prickle of shame for all the times she had teased him about being impotent with the chip. How maddening this must be, for a creature like Spike, to be helpless in this way. What if this happened every time I hit a vampire? Buffy mused. She shuddered at the thought.
 
Satisfied that she had lost her pursuers for a while, she made her way once more toward the Magic Box, wincing at the way her rib ground with every step. As she walked she realized that her trajectory took her right past Willy’s, the demon bar. Doesn’t Willy sell blood? Maybe I could get something to help this heal faster. She decided to try it, figuring that if all else failed she could get some whiskey to kill the pain.
 
She walked in, hoping to see one of Spike’s poker buddies or some other familiar face, but instead she saw nothing but hostile stares. She sat down at the bar, moving slowly so as not to jar Spike’s ribs. Willy came up to her with a sour look on his face. “What do you want?”
 
“I was hoping for some blood and some whiskey,” she answered.
 
“You really got a lot of nerve coming in here asking for blood,” Willy growled. “After your Slayer friend was here the last time half my clientele disappeared for two weeks, and everyone was afraid to ask for human in case she came back. I stopped stocking it.”
 
Shit. “Can I get the whiskey then?” she asked.
 
“Pay first,” Willy snapped. “That way if someone comes in here to kick your ass I won’t get stiffed.”
 
Buffy rummaged in the pockets of Spike’s duster and came up with a twenty dollar bill. Willy took it and came back with a large whiskey and the change. “Thanks,” she muttered. She welcomed the burn as she sipped the alcohol. Looking around she realized that everyone there was giving her a wide berth. Even an obvious vampire whore was shooting dirty sidelong glances at her from down the bar. Buffy had never quite grasped the way Spike had to pay for his association with her. He really doesn’t have anyone, does he? I mean, Xander and the others treat him like shit, most of the demons in town hate his guts – how does he keep from going crazy? She took another sip and silently added, I guess I’m not really helping the situation either. I jump him and use him for sex, then punch him in the face and treat him like dirt. Real nice, Buffy.
 
She had always justified their treatment of him by using the excuse that he was a vampire. He had no soul, he was evil, all the usual platitudes. But now that she sat in his world, alone and ostracized, she found her righteous attitude wavering. She went down the list of things he had done in recent months. Gave me amazing orgasms – not exactly evil. Helped find Dawn – not evil. Kept me from bursting into flame – not evil. Got me drunk and then cheated at kitten poker – evil, but not that evil. Listened to me about where I had been when I died – not evil at all. Took care of Dawn and patrolled all summer – not evil. Okay, why is it that I can come up with more not-evil stuff than evil stuff here? The more she sat drinking and cataloging Spike’s actions, the more ashamed she felt. She had given him no credit whatsoever.
 
Her musing was interrupted by a voice behind her. “Hey, asshole!”
 
Groaning inwardly, she turned to see three vampires behind her. “Can I help you?”
 
“Yeah, you can dust and blow the hell out of town,” snarled the leader, who was easily six feet tall and had clearly been an athlete before death. “Bad enough having the Slayer around without you helping her.”
 
Buffy stood up, and was a bit dismayed to find she didn’t come up a whole lot farther on this gorilla’s chest. Putting her hand in the pocket of the duster she was very glad to find a stake there. “Sorry to rain on your parade,” she said. She whipped out the stake with a flash of speed and took out the leader before he could say another word.
 
“Hey!” yelled the others, and the fight was on. Other patrons cleared out of the way and hooted and cheered as Buffy fought the other two vampires. One of them landed a lucky blow to her broken rib and she felt her face vamp out with the pain. Bringing the demon out did seem to give her an extra boost in strength though, and soon she had regained the upper hand. Within five minutes the fight was over, and the two vampires joined their leader in the dust pile on the floor.
 
“Get the hell out of here!” yelled Willy. “You end up trashing my bar every time you walk in. Get out! Your money’s no good here anymore.”
 
Buffy looked around at all the dirty looks on all the demon faces. Okay, you’re tough, and Spike is tough. But do you really want to risk losing? She decided that discretion was the better part of valor and held up her hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll get my lousy whiskey elsewhere.” She turned and walked out with as much confidence as she could muster. About a block away she ventured a glance behind her and was relieved to find that no one was following her. She grimaced again –it felt like a second rib was broken as well. She also found that her borrowed face was still vamped out. How the hell do you get this to go away? she wondered. It was like trying to figure out how to raise one eyebrow when you didn’t know how – she couldn’t quite figure out what muscle to flex to make the ridges go away. Finally the Magic Box came into view up ahead. Thank God. Time to get the others involved so we can sort out this whole body swap thing. With a feeling of relief she opened the door and stepped into the store.
 
“I still say there’s something wrong with her…” Xander broke off mid-sentence and turned to see who had come in. He jumped back when he saw Spike’s ridges and fangs. “What the hell are you doing here? And what’s with the fangs?”
 
“Listen, it’s not what you think,” Buffy said, although she found it harder than normal to speak clearly with the fangs in the way. “Something’s happened. I’m really…”
 
“Save it, Spike,” Xander said, snatching up a cross from behind the counter. “You’ve clearly been up to something, and from the smell of you you’ve been drinking too. Now back off.”
 
“Dammit, Xander!” Buffy cried, moving closer. “Will you please just listen to me? I’m not going to hurt anyone. I’m trying to tell you that…”
 
“I said get back!” Xander snapped, clearly frightened for all his bravado. When Buffy tried to speak again Xander lunged with the cross. Buffy put up a hand to block it and found her hand burning as it touched the blessed wood.
 
Screaming in pain she retreated back to the door. Xander chased her saying, “Get out. Until Buffy confirms that you haven’t done anything evil, you need to leave.”
 
Buffy fought back tears. “If you’d only let me explain,” she pleaded in Spike’s thickened accent.
 
“Sorry, I don’t converse with fangs,” Xander said, brandishing the cross again.
 
Buffy looked at Xander’s angry face and Anya’s frightened one. After all he did for them last summer, this is still how they see him. Nothing but a vampire. And I did nothing to stop this. She turned and left, tears of guilt and pain welling in her eyes.
 
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Spike had finally gotten away for patrol after dinner, and headed straight to Restfield. He cringed inwardly at the thought of the Slayer poking around all his stuff all day. Hope she didn’t find the stash of poems. Never live that one down. He got to the crypt and opened the door, calling out, “Hello? Slayer?” There was no answer, so he went inside. He noticed that his whiskey was gone, and opening the fridge he found the blood was gone as well. Okay, she fed the demon at least. And had a bit of a bender it seems. So where is she? He went downstairs and found that his journals were disturbed, but the portfolio full of poetry was still in its hiding place under the mattress. Well she probably had an interesting day learning all about my travels, he mused. Seeing no more clues to Buffy’s whereabouts, he decided to check out the Magic Box, figuring that was a likely place for Buffy to head for help.
 
He walked through Sunnydale quickly. A couple of guys in a passing car whistled and made some comment, which made Spike roll his eyes. Classy. You California blokes are such wonderful specimens. Wankers. When he was about half a block down from the Magic Box, he saw the door open and his own form come staggering out. Thank God. Now we can get this all sorted out.
 
As he got closer though, he realized that something was wrong. He watched as his body leaned against a pole, nursing his right hand. He quickened his pace and called out, “Slayer?”
 
Buffy looked up and saw herself coming down the street. “Spike? Please tell me that’s you.”
 
Spike saw the vamped out face and was instantly concerned. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
 
“Yeah,” she said. “Got jumped by a couple of humans with baseball bats, then managed to get into a bar fight. I think two ribs are broken. Then Xander freaked out because I can’t get the fangs to go away and he burned me with a cross and God this sucks!” She kicked the light pole in frustration as tears rolled down her bumpy face.
 
Spike was moved to pity for the girl wearing his body, and came up and took her hand. “Let me see, love,” he said quietly, the words sounding strange in Buffy’s voice. He winced at the blackened skin. Asking permission with his eyes, he ran his hand gently down her side, feeling the slight give of the broken bones. “You made a mess of me, Slayer, make no mistake,” he said.
 
“How do I get your face back?” she asked. It was so exceedingly odd to hear Spike’s voice coming out sounding anxious and uncertain. Spike was many things, but she couldn’t remember him ever being anxious. To be not in complete control of her body was frightening to Buffy, and it came out as strange tremors in Spike’s normally smooth baritone.
 
Spike ran his hands tenderly over the bumps and ridges of his own demon mask. He pulled her gently down into a tender kiss, stroking his thumbs lightly over her face and rubbing the back of her neck gently. Buffy hesitated for a moment, then found herself relaxing into the kiss, however odd it might be to kiss herself. After a few moments she finally felt the shift and Spike’s pale human face was back. “Better?” Spike asked as he pulled away.
 
“Thanks,” she said, slightly embarrassed. “Should we, um, should we see about how to fix this?”
 
“Probably,” he replied. “Maybe we should go back to your house though. Give Harris a chance to cool off.”
 
“Sounds good,” she said. She knew she should be objecting to all this. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to treat Spike the way she usually did. Having spent a night in his world, and now feeling his pain in every sense of the word, she kept her mouth shut for once. “Maybe we should stop for blood on the way. There’s nothing at my house for a vampire.”
 
“We’ll hit the butcher’s then,” Spike said. “Come on.” He put a hand on her back to steady her as she moved painfully down the sidewalk. Neither of them noticed Xander and Anya staring through the window of the Magic Box with wide open mouths.
 
TBC