Disclaimer: All Joss Whedon's characters, not mine.

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Chapter 7
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Three men were squabbling in a basement room, which was a fairly regular occurrence for this particular group. Jonathan was skeptical, Andrew was alternating between squeaking and hero-worshipping Warren, and Warren was being dictatorial as usual. “How do we even know this thing worked?” Jonathan was saying. “We can’t go start ripping off banks left and right only to find out later that they’ll be able to ID us in a lineup!”
 
“Relax,” Warren was saying. “We just need to do a little bit of spy work on the Slayer to make sure she didn’t remember us at the cemetery, and we’ll be fine.”
 
“Shouldn’t we have checked her out yesterday, though?” Jonathan wondered.
 
“Um, duh, we looked at the camera, remember? The one in the magic shop?” Andrew said.
 
“Yeah, and she was downstairs for practically the whole time. I couldn’t tell if there was anything wrong with her memory, could you?” Jonathan said, looking pointedly at Warren.
 
“Not really,” he admitted. “But look. If it worked, then she should still be suffering from the affects. If she’s suffering from unexplained amnesia, she’ll be bound to come to the shop at some point – they do all their serious work there. Let’s just keep an eye on them today and see what we notice. If she doesn’t seem to have been affected, we’ll try it again on a different subject, okay?”
 
“Fine,” Jonathan grumbled.
 
“Sounds good to me,” Andrew piped up. They tuned in the Magic Box camera and settled in for a day of surveillance.
 
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Spike woke up early that morning, slightly stiff from his night on the couch. He sat up and stretched, noting as he did a slight hint of odor from his borrowed body. I guess I didn’t actually take a shower yesterday, he remembered. Since he didn’t normally sweat, he tended to shower on an as-needed basis, usually when demon slime was involved. But he figured Buffy would chew him out for letting her body get too fragrant, so he made his way upstairs to the shower. No one else seemed awake yet, so he rummaged around for some towels and sequestered himself in the bathroom.
 
The array of girly hygiene products amused and bewildered him. Seriously, how do they keep track of all this stuff? I mean, what’s wrong with soap and shampoo? He settled on some foaming bath gel for his body, and sniffed the options until he recognized Buffy’s favorite shampoo. Love the way this smells on her. He rinsed her hair and stood there for a while, relaxing under the spray.
 
His reverie was interrupted by a furious pounding at the door. “Hey! Don’t use all the hot water!” Dawn yelled from the other side of the door.
 
“Alright, alright, keep your shirt on,” Spike growled, turning off the water. He toweled off, located what he hoped was Buffy’s bathrobe, and exited the bathroom, to be greeted by a frowning Dawn. “Are you always such a pleasure in the morning, or is it just because I’m here?” he asked.
 
“I’m not even sure who you are, so I can’t answer that,” she grumbled, pushing past him and slamming the bathroom door.
 
Shaking his head, Spike went to Buffy’s room and quietly opened the door. He saw his still sleeping body sprawled out across the bed, noticing that Buffy had elected to keep the t-shirt on while she slept. He quietly padded over to the dresser to find some clothing. The sound of the drawer opening woke Buffy, who opened her eyes sleepily and said, “Morning.”
 
Spike turned around. “Good morning. Do you mind helping me sort through this insane pile of clothing choices?”
 
Buffy half smiled at his confusion. “Jeans are in the bottom drawer. Most of my casual shirts are on the left side of the closet.”
 
Spike rummaged as directed and came up with jeans, a gray shirt, and the required undergarments. He was about to leave to get dressed, when he remembered that Dawn was in the bathroom. “Um… can I change here, or should I wait for the Nibblet to get done?” This is bloody awkward.
 
Buffy shrugged. “I guess I’ve seen it all before, so go ahead.” She watched the bizarre sight of seeing her body shimmying into her clothes, but from five feet away. “That is truly weird,” she commented.
 
“No denying that,” Spike concurred. He tackled Buffy’s hair but found it incredibly tangled this morning.
 
“Let me guess, you didn’t use conditioner,” Buffy said, noticing his struggles.
 
“Conditioner? Not even completely sure which of the twelve dozen bottles that was. You lot have an entire beauty salon in there. What does it do anyhow?” He winced as he pulled at another snarl.
 
“It helps get the tangles out,” Buffy explained.
 
“Oh. Right. Probably would have been a good idea then,” he muttered. He struggled for a few more minutes until he finally got her hair straightened out, then pulled it into a ponytail.
 
“You’re surprisingly good at managing my hair,” Buffy said, amused.
 
“Well, I had to help Dru sometimes when she was sick. Plus, believe it or not, my hair was once long enough that I needed to tie it up. Was in fashion way back when.” He turned to her and said, “Do I pass inspection?”
 
“You’ll do,” Buffy said. She looked down at her t-shirt, which was a bit stained from the battles of the previous night. “I on the other hand, could really use some clean clothes.”
 
“I can run by the crypt and grab some if you like,” Spike offered. “You’ll probably need some more blood too. How are my ribs this morning, by the way?”
 
“Mostly healed,” Buffy replied. “I am a bit hungry now that you mention it.”
 
“Tell you what. I’ll drop the Bit at school and then pick up the clothes and the blood.”
 
“Sounds like a plan. I guess I’ll hold down the fort around here,” Buffy said.
 
“Just look out for the stray sunbeams, Slayer,” he warned. “Don’t fancy getting stuck as you forever because you dusted my body.”
 
“I’ll do my best,” she replied. Spike left and closed the door behind him. Buffy lay back on the bed and shut her eyes, desperately wanting to stay in bed until after Dawn left for school. You’re being a coward, she admonished herself. At the same time, she vaguely wondered if Dawn wouldn’t be better off with Spike in her body. At least Spike wasn’t depressed and out of it half the time. After ten more minutes of utter inertia she finally hauled herself out of bed. Grumbling she pulled on Spike’s jeans and steeled herself for the descent into the maelstrom.
 
And a maelstrom it was. “I don’t need a ride to school. I can walk just fine.” Dawn was saying defiantly.
 
“Yeah, and be late again,” Spike was saying. “Do you not understand that your tardiness is going to get you into a world of trouble?”
 
“Why do you care? You’re not even really Buffy!”
 
“Yes, but I am,” Buffy said, entering the kitchen. “What’s the problem?”
 
“I don’t need a ride. I don’t need anything from either of you!” Dawn yelled.
 
Buffy spoke with as much sternness as she could muster. “Look, Spike has to go get me some clean clothes and some blood. He has to go past the school to get them. Go with him, and you know you’ll be on time, and we’ll stay out of trouble with social services. Alright?”
 
Dawn gave them both a dirty look, but realized that regardless of who was in which body, both bodies were supernaturally strong and not in the mood to argue. “Fine,” she spat out. She grabbed her backpack and stormed out the door. “I’ll be in the car.” The door slammed behind her.
 
Spike let out a long breath. “Don’t know how you stand that every day,” he said.
 
Buffy shrugged. “Why do you think she’s late all the time? I get tired of fighting.” She sat down at the kitchen island, fiddling with the salt shaker.
 
Spike looked at her with pity. Even in his larger form she seemed a bit shrunken, bowed under the weight of being alive. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he assured her.
 
“Thanks,” she said with another half hearted smile. She remained where she was, fidgeting idly while Spike went out to find Dawn.
 
Dawn was sitting in the passenger’s seat, arms folded, staring moodily out the window. Spike rolled his eyes for the hundredth time since starting this whole adventure and got in. He buckled up and started the car, backing smoothly out of the driveway. After a minute or two of silence he couldn’t take it anymore. “NIbblet, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on. You were so upset about the whole teacher thing that I didn’t want to worry you further. Then by the time you came to the store after school I had been playing Buffy all day and didn’t know how the Scoobies were going to react if I told them what was going on. I didn’t set out to deceive you.”
 
“But you did,” Dawn said shortly, keeping her eyes on the window.
 
Spike lost his temper then. “What of it? You didn’t die from it, you spoiled little brat.”
 
“What did you just call me?” she said indignantly, turning from the window to glare at the driver.
 
“A spoiled brat,” Spike repeated. “Ought to put you over my knee for the way you talk to your sister.”
 
“How I talk to her?” Dawn yelled. “At least I talk to her! She barely even notices if I’m there or not!”
 
“She gave her life for you!” Spike exploded. He stopped at a red light and turned to glare right back at her. “She fucking died to save you. She puts up with hell every goddamn day for you. She struggles and worries and puts up with endless crap from her so-called friends for you every fucking day. If it wasn’t for you she would have jumped back off that tower the very first day, and you know it. So quit with the ‘Poor little me’ refrain already. She’s trying her best, and you could grow up a bit and meet her halfway, instead of bitching at her morning, noon, and night.” The light turned green and he pulled away with a screech, trying to contain his anger.
 
Dawn’s jaw dropped wide open at his tirade, which was even more shocking somehow for being delivered in Buffy’s voice. She was at a total loss for words for a few moments, during which time they arrived at the front of school. Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. With his eyes still closed he said, “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you, Bit. I care for you and Buffy very much, and I never want to hurt either of you. Just please, try to give your sister a break. Alright?”
 
Dawn’s cheeks burned red with shame and anger. “Whatever,” she said finally. With that she vaulted out of the car, slamming the door and walking quickly up to school, head down, fighting tears.
 
Spike watched her go and sighed. Hope she’ll forgive me for that some day. Spike drove off toward Restfield deep in thought.
 
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“What was that all about?” Willow asked as she came downstairs. The tremendous slam of the door had woken her. She had her robe on over her pajamas, and unconsciously covered up even more at the sight of Spike’s form sitting in the kitchen. She reminded herself that this was really Buffy, but it was very strange.
 
“Dawn being her usual smiling morning self,” Buffy said. She lapsed into silence again, unable to think of anything to say. Willow had disinvited her, or rather Spike, from her house. Without permission. It was another thing to add to the list of ‘things Willow and the others have taken over in Buffy’s life’. She knew she should put her foot down. But the effort involved seemed more than she wanted to deal with right now.
 
“Are… are you hungry?” Willow asked. “I was going to make an omelet for myself.”
 
“I’m hungry, but I sorta need vampire food,” Buffy reminded her. “Spike went out to get it.”
 
“Oh, right,” Willow said uneasily. She got an onion and a red pepper out of the refrigerator and started chopping them up to add to her omelet. The onion seemed particularly pungent to Buffy’s vampire nose, but it didn’t make her eyes water, which was an interesting effect. Suddenly, Willow said, “Ouch! Damn!”
 
The smell of onions was overpowered by a coppery, tangy smell. Buffy looked over and saw that Willow had cut her finger badly while chopping. The dripping blood on the counter had her unconsciously licking her lips, and before she knew what was happening her face had fanged out. With an incoherent roar she lunged at Willow, only to find herself crumpled on the floor clutching her head a second later. Willow screeched and jumped back, grabbing a towel to wrap around her hand and backing toward the living room with its chest full of weapons. Buffy ignored her, grinding her teeth at the blinding agony in her head. Damn this chip straight to hell. She got to her knees and pulled herself up using the edge of the counter, staggering a bit until her head cleared.
 
Willow came back to the door of the kitchen with a large cross out of the weapons chest. “Just… just stay back,” she stammered.
 
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Buffy muttered. “I can’t anyway.”
 
“But you vamped out at me!” Willow said. “What was that about?”
 
Buffy responded in an irritated tone, “The demon is actually pretty hard to control if you don’t know how. And I haven’t had a hundred years to practice. I’m sorry.” She walked toward Willow, heading for the stairs.
 
“Are you sure you’re safe?” Willow asked, still shaky.
 
“Look, I’m going upstairs until Spike gets back. You can put the cross away,” she said curtly. Buffy pushed past Willow and made her way back to her bedroom. She closed the door and lay back down on the bed, closing her eyes and willing the headache to stop. She rubbed her temples and pictured Spike’s face, and eventually managed to get the fangs and ridges to go away once more. Hope Spike gets back soon, she thought as she waited for the waves of pain to recede.
 
Willow had watched the retreating vampire, still feeling a bit shaky. After she heard Buffy’s door close she looked in the catch-all drawer in the kitchen and found a bandage. Xander walked in through the kitchen door while she was finishing up and said, “Hey Wils. Cut yourself?”
 
“Yeah. Missed the onion,” she said ruefully. “Unfortunately it brought out the demon in Spi… I mean Buffy and she lunged at me, looking for breakfast.”
 
Xander was instantly concerned. “Are you okay?”
 
“Yeah. The chip fired, which kept her from biting me or anything. Still, pretty freaked here.”
 
Buffy had heard the door slam and had gotten up to go see if it was Spike. But now as she stood at the bedroom doorway she heard Xander’s voice, asking if Willow was okay. She realized that the vampire hearing made it possible to hear their conversation fairly clearly. With a twinge of guilt, she continued listening in on their discussion.
 
Xander leaned back against the counter and said, “What are we going to do about this?”
 
“Well I guess we need to figure out how they got switched and switch them back,” Willow offered.
 
“Yeah, but then what? What is going on between those two? Buffy can’t be getting involved with him. After living in his skin for a few days she has got to see how dangerous he is!” Xander said.
 
“The chip does keep him from harming anyone,” Willow said. “I mean, just tested that, and I can vouch for the fact that it works.”
 
“But if it stops, he’ll be all fang all the time!” Xander cried, his voice rising slightly. “Then we’ve got Angelus version two running around, and once again Buffy’s going to have to take out a boyfriend.”
 
“Yeah, and she ended up disappearing for the summer after that time. Who knows what she’d do now without her mom and Giles to come back to?”
 
Buffy pounded her head lightly on the door. Not to mention the fact that I died, got dragged out of heaven, and have to face a mountain of bills, social services, and the moody teenager from hell. And did I mention that all this recent stuff is your fault Willow? No, I didn’t because poor little Willow just did it for my own good so why am I mad at her? She had to resist the urge to either climb out the window or go downstairs and give them a piece of her mind. She couldn’t climb out the window without bursting into flames, and if she gave them a piece of her mind she would have to deal with the hurt puppy expressions. Not dealing with those on an empty vampire stomach, thanks.
 
“I guess we’ll just have to wait until they’re both back where they belong, and then talk about it with her,” Willow said. “Do you think we should bring Giles in on this one?”
 
Xander contemplated that. “Let’s do a little bit of work on the problem first before we call Giles in. He wanted Buffy to handle her own problems. We’ll try to take care of it on this end first.”
 
“Sounds good,” Willow said. “Want some omelet? Without the added Willow?” Xander agreed heartily and the sounds of pans knocking about muffled the rest of the discussion.
 
Buffy sighed and leaned against the door, running her hand through Spike’s curls. I love how they’re just planning what to do with me as if I’m not even here. Or as if I’m an incompetent child or something. Hello? Do I get any say in this? Or am I going to be sent to my room if I kiss a vampire? She knew they had a point – her last two major relationships had ended badly, and the scars left by Angelus ran deep. But if anything her sojourn in Spike’s body made her even less worried about him. His control had to be completely amazing, given the powerful pull of the demon. He must truly feel something for her, because hanging around Sunnydale left him open to all sorts of abuse from humans and demons alike. The amount of shit he put up with, just to be near her, both perplexed and humbled her. Wish I knew how to figure this out. She resolutely decided she would not cry, but the urge to curl up in a ball and hide was stronger than ever. 

TBC