Misplaced

Goes off canon during Gone. The Trio builds a ray that is meant to cause amnesia and they test it out on Buffy and Spike. The actual effects lead Buffy and Spike to experience each other’s worlds in a whole new way. They’re not so much gone as… temporarily misplaced.
 
Author’s note: The idea is somewhat similar to similar to Challenge 36 on the BSV, but that challenge takes place during a different season. Any similarities to the challenge response already posted are coincidental. Reviews are most appreciated!
 
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Chapter 1
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“Dust already, would you!”
 
With a last thrust of her stake Buffy finally subdued the larger than normal fledgling she had been grappling with. He had been so overweight when he was turned that she had practically thrown her back out wrestling him to the ground – it had been like a mouse fighting an elephant. She stood up slowly, feeling completely exhausted. This day can end, like, any time now. She leaned against a tombstone for a moment, examining the tears in yet another decent shirt. The day had started crappy, with both Spike and Social Services showing up to torment her. She had no idea what being on probation was going to mean, but she supposed she should make more of an effort to shove Dawn out the door on time for school. Willow was in full-time needy mode, and it was driving her insane. Buffy had to agree with Dawn there – it was pretty annoying to have to clear everything even remotely magical out of the house. She really wanted to say that it would be a lot easier to clear the witch out of the house, particularly since said witch a) paid no rent and b) had nearly killed her sister in a car wreck. However, it seemed unkind to kick the witch while she was down, so Buffy tried to swallow her annoyance.
 
After school Buffy had tried to talk to Dawn about the Social Services problem, but Dawn had been in a bitchy mood and had ended up stalking off to her room and slamming the door. Dinner had been an afterthought composed of pasta and some salad made from slightly wilted lettuce, since Willow usually did the cooking but hadn’t felt up to it tonight. I suppose I’ll have to take on that chore too. Along with the bills, and the Slaying. Oh yeah, and the worrying about the bills, since that seems to be my full time job right now. After dinner Buffy had sat down and tried to face the bills head on, but all she succeeded in doing was depressing herself more. The amount owed and the amount in her bank account were two numbers that were never going to meet up until she got some more income, somehow. Later, Xander had come over and he and Willow had tried to draw her into a discussion of the recent diamond theft and who could be behind it. Buffy tried to care and keep up her end of the conversation, but in the end she escaped to patrol just to get some relative peace.
 
Then there was the whole Spike situation. The whole thing was bad on so many levels. She had acted like a total ho, throwing herself on him like he was the last male on earth. Her cheeks burned even now as she thought of how she had acted. The fact that she had done this with Spike was just so much worse. He was a smirking, soulless demon, with ridiculously outdated hair and clothes who was now going around gloating at having had the Slayer. The only thing better than killing a Slayer… Bastard. How dare he?
 
But while her head was cataloging how wrong, bad, and thoroughly fucked-up the situation was, her skin craved his touch. She involuntarily closed her eyes at the memory of his cool cock filling her, turning all her nerves on at full volume. He had brought her to orgasm among the wreckage of the abandoned house so many times that she couldn’t even count. He had murmured dirty words into her ear, spurring her on to sexual acrobatics she didn’t realize she was capable of. It had been without a doubt the best sex of her life, and as much as she tried to deny it, she wanted more. Feeling sensation, touching that fire again after these weeks of numbness was addictive. She was tempted to go find him right now and scratch that deep-seated itch. Bad idea, Buffy. The Scoobie’s will have a coronary, and Spike will rub it in so hard it will leave a mark. She sighed and started making her way home.
 
“Evening, Slayer.” Buffy stopped, rolled her eyes to the heavens and turned slowly to see Spike behind her. “Miss me?” he said, his lip curled in his characteristic smirk.
 
“Yeah, I was just saying ‘Gosh, I don’t have enough stress and snarkiness in my life. Where oh where can I get more?’” She turned back toward the gates of the cemetery to continue stalking back to Revello Drive.
 
“You’re in a lovely mood,” Spike commented, falling in beside her. “Any particular reason, or is it just the usual battle between what you want and what you think you need to do?”
 
Buffy stopped and turned to face him again. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
 
“What I mean, love,” he said, moving closer as his voice trickled out like warm honey, “Is that there are ways of relieving all that stress.” He trailed a hand down her arm, sending a shiver down her spine and a flush of warmth between her legs.
 
“You’re a pig,” she said, trying to force her feet to move away. It seemed, however, that her movement circuitry was temporarily overwhelmed by the sensations his hands were causing as one settled on her hip while the other ran through her hair.
 
“What are you so afraid of, Buffy?” he asked in that same seductive tone. “We’re out here alone. No one needs to know what we’re up to.”
 
Spike was so busy trying to entice the Slayer that he failed to realize that they were not actually alone. In the bushes near the cemetery entrance, three black-clad figures jostled each other as they tried to get their equipment together.
 
“What are they doing?” asked Andrew, trying to get the binoculars away from Jonathan.
 
“Will you stop grabbing them?” Jonathan hissed. “It’s not my fault you forgot yours.”
 
“Will the two of you shut up before they hear us?” Warren whispered. “We’re not going to get a chance to try this out if they find us before we’ve got it set up. Andrew, shut up and give me a hand here.”
 
Andrew frowned, but turned to hold a cylindrical metal object while Warren carefully slid a round, glowing crystal into it. “Do you really think this is going to work on her?”
 
“We’ll find out,” Warren said, tightening some screws. “If Jonathan got the right crystal that is.”
 
“I got just what you asked,” Jonathan said. “I just hope it will work together with the diamond the way you think it will.”
 
“Just keep an eye on them,” Warren muttered. “Let me know when the Slayer is away from him.” He tightened the last screw and beheld his handiwork. It resembled a gun, and in a way it was. The ray it produced was designed to cause amnesia in its victim for a day or two. If it worked as intended, the Trio would be able to go anywhere, and do anything, and erase all memory of their having been there. Warren imagined walking into stores, zapping the clerks, and being able to walk out with whatever he needed. Or finding Katrina again and having her forget their past troubles, at least for a while. The possibilities were endless, but they needed to know it would work first.
 
“Can we try it yet?” Andrew asked eagerly.
 
“They’re still talking,” Jonathan said. “But get ready – I think she’s starting to leave.”
 
“Look,” Buffy was saying. “The other night, it was… it was a mistake. It was a fun mistake at the time, but we really can’t be doing this. Besides, I need to get home to Dawn. This conversation is over.” She turned to walk away, leaving Spike stunned for a moment in her wake.
 
“Get ready! Here she comes!” Jonathan whispered. Warren hefted the gun to his shoulder and aimed. The Slayer was in his sights and he slowly pulled the trigger.
 
Just then Spike shook himself and stomped after Buffy. Grabbing her arm he spun her around and said, “Damn it, Slayer, this is not over.” Then he pulled her roughly into a searing kiss at the moment that Warren let loose with the ray.
 
Buffy was losing the battle of wills as she melted under Spike’s electric kiss. She had given up and pulled him to her, tangling her hand in the back of his hair when she felt the oddest sensation. It was like a painless explosion in her mind, and it seemed like her nerve endings were draining out into her lips and tongue where she was connected to Spike. Spike felt it too – a whirling of all his thoughts that seemed to come from nowhere. They pulled back, both feeling a little dizzy and nauseated.
 
“Shit, we hit them both. Let’s get out of here before they see us,” Jonathan hissed.
 
“But how are we going to know if it worked if they don’t see us?” Warren asked. “Come on you pussies.” He stood up boldly, picked up the gun, and walked in no particular hurry past the cemetery gates and off to their van, trailed reluctantly by Andrew and Jonathan.
 
“What the hell was that?” Spike asked, staring at Buffy in shock.
 
“I don’t…. I don’t know. I feel all wonky or something.” She noticed three figures moving out of the corner of her eye, but they didn’t seem important right now.
 
“Are you okay?” Spike shook his head, feeling like there was something he was missing.
 
“Yeah. I think,” Buffy said vaguely. “I’m… gonna go home now.”
 
“Yeah,” Spike said, also feeling vague and confused. “I… I’ll see you tomorrow or something.”
 
“Yeah.” They separated then, each walking toward their respective domiciles. Buffy moved mechanically, finding it difficult to concentrate on anything. When she got in, Willow was still awake, watching TV, and asked, “Hey, how was patrol?”
 
“Good. I guess,” Buffy said. She wrinkled her brow, not exactly understanding the question. “I’m… really tired. I need to go to bed.” She started heading to the basement door.
 
“Um, Buffy? Where are you going?” Willow asked. She had never seen Buffy looking this exhausted after patrol before.
 
Buffy looked at the basement door, momentarily befuddled. “I was going to bed.”
 
“I think you’ll find that your room is still upstairs,” Willow said. “Are you okay? You seem really out of it.”
 
Buffy shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “Upstairs. Right. Sorry, I’m just… just knackered I guess.” She headed upstairs and found her room, leaving Willow to ponder just when Buffy started using terms like knackered in a sentence. Buffy found a pair of pajamas and tumbled into bed. Don’t know what hit me, she thought as she drifted off, but I’ll figure it out in the morning. Within minutes she was asleep.
 
Spike headed for his crypt in a similar daze, avoiding familiar tombstones automatically. Feel like I just went ten rounds with a Chirago demon, he thought muzzily. He got to his crypt and looked around. Was it always so empty up here? I swear I had more furniture than this. After a few moments he realized he had to go downstairs to find his bed. You’re getting senile, William, he chided himself. In his bedroom he took off his duster and looked around vaguely for a moment before realizing that he was searching for a closet which he didn’t have. Tossing his duster on a chair he sat to unlace his boots. Why am I so wiped? Nothing happened tonight, did it? He tried to review the evening’s events in his mind, but found that nothing was clear. A vague memory of kissing Buffy came to the fore, but he wasn’t sure if that had happened tonight, or some other night. He undressed, neatly folding his clothing and putting it in a drawer, oblivious to the piles of other clothes dropped here and there around the untidy space. He realized after another moment that he was looking for something to sleep in. Aggravated, he shook himself. The hell? You’ve slept in the nude for a century, you dope. He climbed in between the sheets and fell into confused and troubled dreams.
 

Disclaimer: All the vampires are Joss Whedon's, not mine.

Thanks so much for the reviews thus far!


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Chapter 2
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Brrr, Buffy thought sleepily. Why does it feel so cold this morning? She opened one eye and noticed it was still very dark. What time is it? She looked around, but where she expected to see a clock radio she saw only a guttering candle. She sat up and took in the stone walls around her. What am I doing in Spike’s crypt? She looked all around but didn’t see any sign of the vampire anywhere. Then she looked down and yelled, “What the hell?”
 
Where she expected to see her yummy sushi pajamas, she saw instead a pale expanse of skin leading down to a clearly male set of body parts. She let out another yelp of surprise, then realized that her voice was deep and British. She scrambled out of the bed, looking all around. “Spike? Is this some kind of trick?” There was no answer. She looked down again and recognized Spike’s body – Lord knows she had seen every inch of it in the abandoned house that night. She ran her hands over her face to find Spike’s bladelike cheekbones and a head topped with Spike’s curly hair. Another body swap? How the hell did this happen? She had a vague memory of some weird sensation – was that just the previous night? Was this a spell? Had Willow gone off the wagon? With a gasp she realized that there was a strong likelihood that Spike was now inhabiting her body. What mischief could he be getting up to in her body? I gotta get home. Like now.
 
Buffy hunted around the untidy space and came up with a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. She started to look for underwear, then remembered, oh yeah, he goes commando. She pulled on the clothes and located some socks and his Doc Martens. She stormed up the stairs and across the crypt, thinking, he is so dead if he does something bizarre to my body. She yanked open the door of the crypt and was about to stomp out the door when she felt an excruciating pain in her arm. She looked down and jumped backward in alarm as she realized that her arm was on fire. ”OW!” she yelled. She threw herself on the ground and rolled until the flames went out, then surveyed the smoldering flesh. Oh yeah. Spike’s body equals Spike’s sunlight allergy. Fuck, this hurts.
 
Buffy shut the crypt door and sat down in Spike’s armchair, nursing her burn. She noticed a bottle of whiskey on the floor next to the chair and picked it up. I must have vampire constitution. Maybe some of this will dull the pain without turning me into pukey cave Buffy. She opened the bottle and drank it, noticing that the burn of the whiskey seemed to affect the vampire taste buds much less. After a long, long swallow she put down the empty bottle and burped. The pain seemed a little less, and she found she wasn’t even buzzed. This is kind of fun. Must be nice to be able to hold your liquor.
 
Buffy sat back in the armchair and contemplated her next move. She knew there were tons of tunnels in Sunnydale that could be accessed through the crypt, but she had no idea where they all went, and didn’t relish the idea of taking a wrong turn and ending up knee deep in sewage. I suppose I’m stuck here until nightfall, she mused. She knew that Spike, for all his faults, would take care of Dawn and explain things to her. He would probably come looking for her as soon as he realized his predicament. Since she didn’t really know what would happen to her if Spike’s body dusted, she figured that playing it safe was probably a good idea.
 
Buffy wandered back downstairs to Spike’s bedroom. She noticed Spike’s lighter on the bedside table and lit a bunch of candles to dispel more of the gloom. She kicked off the Doc Martens and started poking around Spike’s things. A box in a corner turned out to contain a pile of leather bound journals, some very old. I really shouldn’t, she thought. Then she grabbed one and flopped face down on the bed thinking, but I’m going to anyway. She opened the journal and kicked her feet in the air as she read. This particular one was from the late ‘60’s, and she soon found herself giggling at Spike’s description of getting stoned at Woodstock. It was utterly fascinating to read his wry commentary about Drusilla, Flower Children, and the variable quality of drugs available. When she finished she dived back into the pile to get another, and settled in to read again.
 
After a while she came to a very pleasant realization. No one was bothering her. She was actually relaxing. No whiny teenager. No calls from bill collectors and social services. No needy witches. No Scoobies giving her the ‘snap out of it’ look. She was reading something she wanted to read, in a quiet comfortable place, and no one was demanding that she do anything. I could get used to this, she thought. She started to wonder how long of a vacation from her body she could get away with. Maybe I could just take a couple days off. Let someone else be Buffy for a while.
 
Her conscience reminded her that Dawn actually needed her, and she did need to sort things out with Social Services. But then the devil on her other shoulder thought, she survived for the whole summer without me. She’ll probably survive a day or two with Spike. The thought was liberating. A deep sigh of contentment escaped Spike’s mouth as she made herself comfortable and went back to reading.
 
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Spike was having a marvelous dream. He was walking toward the ocean on a white sand beach, wind in his hair under a clear blue sky. The Slayer rose out of the water and came toward him, sleek and tanned in a small bikini. They met and kissed, closing their eyes, and Spike reveled in the warmth of her lips and the warm sun on his skin…
 
Suddenly Spike became aware that his skin actually did feel warm. He half opened his eyes and then scrambled out of bed with a shout, as he realized that there was a shaft of sunlight splayed over the pillow. “How the hell…” He stopped. He had been about to wonder how a stray sunbeam had managed to work its way down to his basement bedroom, when he realized that he wasn’t where he had fallen asleep last night. The bed was covered with a fluffy floral bedspread, the walls were covered in posters and photos and cheery wallpaper. How the hell did I end up in Buffy’s room? He looked around and then did a double take. Buffy’s face had appeared in the mirror, but when he whirled around he saw no one. Then he turned back to the mirror and his mouth dropped open in astonishment. He walked up to the mirror, seeing Buffy’s form approaching from the glass, until he found himself reaching out to touch the reflection. “Bloody hell,” he whispered. The British slang sounded completely absurd coming out of Buffy’s mouth with Buffy’s voice. I’m in Buffy’s body. How in the name of all that is holy did that happen?
 
There was a knock on the door at that point. “Buffy?” Dawn called. Then the door opened and Dawn came in, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a towel. “Can I borrow your pink sweater?”
 
“Dawn!” squeaked Spike. “Put some clothes on for heaven’s sake!”
 
Dawn looked at Buffy strangely. “Get a grip, we’re all girls.” Dawn bustled over to the closet while Spike blushed furiously and looked anywhere but at Dawn. Christ. Slayer’ll stake me good and proper if she thinks I was ogling her sis. “So can I borrow this?” Dawn asked, emerging from the closet with the sweater.
 
“Um, yeah, sure,” said Spike in Buffy’s voice.
 
“Thanks. You’d better get dressed so we can get there on time.”
 
“Huh?” Spike had no idea what Dawn was talking about.
 
Dawn’s face darkened. “You forgot. Do you even care if I stay here or not?”
 
“Dawn, I…” Spike sputtered. He desperately wanted to tell Dawn what was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to upset her further. “I just woke up. I’m sorry I’m a little bleary still.”
 
“Well if you don’t get moving you’re going to be late for the teacher conference, and that witch from social services is going to freak,” Dawn said sullenly. “So if you could pretend to care for a minute, I could use someone that looks like a responsible guardian.” With that Dawn stomped out to get dressed.
 
Fuck. Now what. Spike realized that if he went to go find Buffy to sort this all out, Dawn was going to be in hot water. I suppose I could fake a teacher conference. How hard could it be? He shuddered at the thought of what Buffy would do if she lost Dawn to a foster home. Bint would go off the deep end big time. Taking a deep breath, he resigned himself to playing Buffy for the morning, and sorting out this body swap problem later. Presumably, Buffy was in his body and in his crypt, and stuck there for the day, so he would have to hunt her down after this conference thing was over.
 
Spike went over to the closet and was immediately overwhelmed by the endless array of choices. Bloody hell. How do they sort through all this? It had been a very long time since he had worn anything other than jeans and a reasonably limited selection of shirts. Now he was faced with skirts in twelve different lengths, slacks, jeans, every color of the rainbow. He fought back a bit of panic and took a deep breath. Ok, William, get a grip. Authority figures. Think somber and respectable. He found a pair of black slacks and a short sleeved pale blue sweater. As he was about to pull on the slacks he remembered, Undergarments. Pretty sure Buffy always wears those, more’s the pity. Some exploration of the dresser yielded panties and a bra, and after a few minutes’ struggle he managed to get the bra on. I can get these off in about two seconds, but who knew how hard these damn things were to get on? Finally dressed, he wrestled with Buffy’s hair for a few long minutes until he had managed to get it into a decent ponytail. Must have been 1910 the last time I had to put my hair in a queue, he thought ruefully. Satisfied that he looked as good as he was likely to get, he went downstairs.
 
On the way into the kitchen he noticed a calendar on the wall, with ‘9:15 – conference’ written on the current date. The wall clock told him it was 8:45, and he felt a small twinge of panic. Dawn was working her way through a bowl of cereal. When Spike walked in, she looked up and said, “You’re wearing that?”
 
Spike looked down. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, confused.
 
“I thought you hated that sweater.”
 
“Well, I thought it looked more… responsible or something,” Spike stammered. He realized that the stomach of the body he was inhabiting was growling, so he poured a bowl of cereal and sat down at the counter.
 
“You’d better hurry. We’re never going to be able to walk there in time if we don’t leave, like, now,” Dawn said, getting up.
 
Man, is Nibblet always this bitchy in the morning? “Why don’t we just drive there?” Spike asked. It made sense to him. Joyce’s car was sitting in the driveway, and rarely got used.
 
Dawn scoffed. “Since when did you actually learn to drive?”
 
“What? I have my license!” I think. Buffy does have one, right?
 
“Yeah, but you suck at driving.”
 
Spike lost patience. “Well maybe I should be practicing more,” he barked. He finished the cereal and grabbed Buffy’s jacket off the hook. He scooped up the car keys from a basket on the hall table and said, “Are you coming or not?”
 
“Fine. What’s one more car accident this week?” Dawn grumbled. She grabbed her stuff and they headed out to the car.
 
Spike found himself hesitating for a moment before stepping out into the daylight. “Um, like, today would be nice,” snapped Dawn from behind him. He took a deep breath and stepped out into broad daylight for the first time in a century and a quarter, other than that brief fling with the Gem of Amara. Forgot what this feels like. Realizing there was no time for basking, he quickly got into the driver’s seat and waited for Dawn to get in. He was about to back out when Dawn said, “Seatbelt? You’re always hollering at me about it.”
 
“Sorry,” Spike muttered. His old DeSoto had been devoid of seatbelts. He honestly never thought about them. What was going to happen in a crash? He would become even more dead? But he buckled Buffy’s human frame in securely and headed off to the school.
 
Dawn noticed that the drive was amazingly smooth, considering the driver. Usually Buffy gave her passengers whiplash with every stop and slammed them into their seats with every acceleration. When they pulled smoothly into a parking space at school, Dawn had to say something. “Wow. You usually take about five tries to get into a parking space. Have you been taking driving lessons on the sly or something?”
 
“Um, Spike gave me a few pointers,” he said. Like letting me take over the body for driving purposes, he thought. “Let’s go. I need to figure out where I need to be.”
 
“Just follow me,” Dawn said. She led him through the crowded halls to the guidance office. “Mrs. Henderson is in there,” she said. She gave him a quick hug. “Sorry I was so grumpy this morning.”
 
“It’s okay,” Spike said. “Now get to class before you get in trouble, Nibblet.”
 
Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Since when do you call me Nibblet? That’s Spike’s nickname for me.”
 
“I guess I’ve been working with him too long,” he said, thinking quickly. Have to watch that stuff until I get a chance to figure out what the hell happened. “Now scoot. See you at home later.” Spike took a deep breath, ran his hand over Buffy’s hair and walked in to the guidance office.
 
“Hello, I’m here to see Mrs. Henderson about Dawn Summers,” he said to the first person he encountered.
 
“And you are?” said the woman at the first desk, who he hoped was a secretary and not someone he was supposed to recognize.
 
“My name’s Sp… Buffy. Buffy Summers.”  Christ, this is hard. You’d think if someone was going to stick me in Buffy’s body they’d give me enough of Buffy’s brain to keep the names straight.
 
The woman looked at him curiously, but finally said, “Have a seat. I’ll see if Mrs. Henderson is ready.”
 
He sat down, at first starting to sink into his usual sprawl, but then realizing that he needed to look more like, well, Buffy, rather than Spike in a Buffy suit. He sat up straight and looked around somewhat nervously. He hadn’t been in anything like a principal’s office since his days in boarding school, where he had occasionally had to face the headmaster over some infraction. He remembered feeling about as comfortable then as he did now.
 
After a long time, by the end of which his borrowed body was starting to perspire in the blue sweater he had chosen, a voice said, “Ms. Summers?” He stood to greet a thin woman in her thirties with dark brown curly hair. “I’m Mrs. Henderson. Please come into my office.” Spike followed her down the hall into a small office with pale yellow walls and comfortable chairs.
 
“Please, sit down,” said Mrs. Henderson. Spike obeyed while the counselor pulled out a file with Dawn’s name on the tab. “Dawn has had a significant problem with tardiness this term, I see.”
 
“Um, yes,” stammered Spike. “Sorry about that. We were here on time today though, so I believe with a few minor adjustments to the morning schedule we can improve that problem.” I bloody well hope, for both their sakes.
 
“Academically, Dawn is clearly very bright, but she does not always apply herself,” Mrs. Henderson continued. “She sometimes is quite moody and uncooperative in class.”
 
“The b… she…” Spike had been about to say that the bint lost her mother last year, what the fuck did the woman expect? But after taking a deep breath and desperately trying to keep a lid on his usual choice of words he said, “We both have had an extremely hard time dealing with losing our mother this past year. I had some… health issues over the summer that worried her as well. I’m doing much better now, but she is still dealing with fears of being left alone.” Spike figured that being dead probably constituted a significant health issue, although he had learned to live with it.
 
“I understand,” Mrs. Henderson said sympathetically. “Do you think that seeing a counselor regularly for a check in would be helpful?”
 
Fuck if I know. Aloud he said, “I’m sure it could help. Could that be done through the school?” He doubted Buffy had any spare money for private therapy.
 
“Certainly. I will set up an appointment for her to speak with one of our counselors this coming Friday.”
 
“Thank you. Is there anything else I should be concerned about?” Or can I please get out of here before I make some major slip-up?
 
“The only thing I would say is that she is farthest behind in her French class,” Mrs. Henderson said after consulting her notes. “She needs to complete her homework and do better on the next exam in order to bring her grade into passing range. Otherwise she is doing well enough, although not necessarily at her full potential.”
 
“I will try to work with her on her homework and such,” Spike said. Mrs. Henderson got up, signaling the end of the conference, and Spike rose to shake her hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you Ms. Summers.”
 
“Likewise,” Spike replied. He stood up and made his way out of the building, back to the car. Need to remember to tell Buffy all this, he thought. I suppose I should encourage her to go home and help Dawn more. He felt a little twinge of remorse at the idea that his deliberate prolonging of patrols to spend more time with Buffy was keeping her away from the Nibblet, possibly to Dawn’s detriment. Don’t want to go causing the girl more trouble, William.
 
Spike reached the car and got in. He rolled down the windows, reveling in the sun and the wind. It occurred to him that he had never, ever driven a car during the day with the windows down, cars having been invented too late for him to enjoy while he was alive. Don’t suppose Buffy will mind if I cruise a bit before I give her car and her body back. A grin broke across his borrowed face as he turned on the radio, flipped through until he found a station that was playing something loud, cranked it, and pulled out of the parking lot with a screech of the tires. 

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whendon and that bunch.

Thank you very, very much for all the encouraging reviews so far. I hope you enjoy the next chapter as well!


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Chapter 3
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I could get used to this, Buffy sighed contentedly. She was leaning back on Spike’s pillows, working through another of his journals. She had laughed hysterically at his descriptions of Angel singing when drunk, had been interested in his adventures in Nazi Germany, and had otherwise found the details of a hundred-odd years of world traveling to be fascinating. Best of all, it was quiet. Since she had come back from the grave, every day had been spent with dealing with bills, and every night had been spent with Slaying, and every spare moment in between was spent dealing with Dawn and the Scoobies. She realized as she giggled over another of Spike’s adventures that she hadn’t laughed, really laughed, in all the time she had been back. Had I known that vampires had it so easy I would have let someone turn me ages ago, she thought.
 
Just then, Spike’s stomach growled. Buffy realized that she hadn’t eaten anything today, and given that this was Spike’s body, she knew what was on the menu. She tried ignoring the growling, but found that unlike human hunger, this was actually somewhat painful. Her gums ached, and she began to feel restless and out of sorts. Is that what the demon feels like? Buffy wondered. She quite never realized what Spike was fighting all the time. This sucks donkeys. Guess I need to feed the demon, since I don’t quite know how to control it.
 
Buffy made her way upstairs to Spike’s refrigerator. She looked inside and was rewarded with a container of pig’s blood from the butcher. She found a mug and filled it with the thick red liquid. Even as her human psyche was being grossed out of existence, she felt the oddest sensation she had ever experienced. She could actually hear the bones in her face shifting involuntarily, and found that suddenly there were fangs in her mouth. Apparently, the sight of the blood was enough to bring out the demon if it wasn’t being controlled, and damn if she knew how exactly to control it. She sniffed the blood experimentally. Ew. That’s really, really unappealing. She frowned, Spike’s vampire visage looking amusingly distorted as she tried to make a disgusted California girl look with a British vampire’s face. Screwing up her courage, she sipped slightly at the blood.
 
“Gah!” she cried aloud, spitting it out. “That’s revolting!” Buffy couldn’t believe Spike put up with drinking this stuff. It was probably the equivalent of having liver and Brussels sprouts for every single meal. Still, Buffy’s gums were itching, and she realized the demon was hungrier than ever.
 
Looking around, Buffy saw a jar of Burba weed on the windowsill. She remembered that Spike was always stealing it to flavor his blood with. She sprinkled some in and tasted again. Marginally better. But still – blech. Finally she held her nose and bolted it down as fast as she could. She shuddered all over afterward. She steeled herself for another round as she poured a second mug and downed that in a similar fashion. Then she reached for a bottle of whiskey that Spike had stashed next to the fridge to wash the taste out of her mouth. No wonder he drinks so much. I would too if I had to eat this crap in order to live. She felt that odd sensation again as the demon receded and the human face slipped back into place. Well at least I’m not all grrr anymore.
 
Giving one more involuntary shudder, she went back downstairs and continued reading the journal. When she finished, she went to look for more, but found that she had read them all. Now what? She went back upstairs, but the sun was still out. What do vampires do all day? She really hadn’t contemplated how boring it must be sometimes, being stuck inside with no escape.
 
Buffy had an idea. Rummaging around downstairs, she came up with a bottle of black nail polish. She hadn’t seen Spike paint his nails in ages, but she was running the body today, and she needed something to do. She turned on Spike’s TV and searched for something to watch. He didn’t get many channels, but she found an interesting looking talk show and sat down to do Spike’s nails in front of the TV. Actually, I can’t remember the last time I just hung out and watched daytime TV. She never did seem to get a moment to herself, and usually Dawn or Willow was monopolizing the TV. She watched one show, then found some sappy chick flick and settled in. Xander always wanted sci-fi, Dawn always wanted comedy, and Willow always wanted something intellectual, so Buffy was content to actually get to pick the movie without listening to someone complain. Ok, other than the drinking pig’s blood thing, and the being stuck inside thing, I still think this beats the whole Slayer gig. Her conscience poked her once more about leaving Dawn for the day. But Buffy figured that no one would die if she had one quiet day to herself. Spike will understand. She pulled an empty crate over, put her feet up on it, and went back to some quality loafing.
 
*******************************
 
Spike made his way through the streets to the outskirts of town, then headed toward the coast. Fuckin’ A, he thought. Never knew how much fun this is. The wind blew Buffy’s long hair back and filled the car with salt scent of the ocean. A song by the Clash came on, and he turned up the volume even more, singing along at the top of Buffy’s lungs. He realized at some point he was speeding, and reluctantly slowed down, since he wasn’t entirely sure what the consequences of a speeding ticket would be for Buffy. But even at a slightly less ludicrous speed, this was heaven.
 
After an hour of pure driving pleasure, he reluctantly turned back toward Sunnydale. He knew that Buffy was going to want to figure this whole body swap out, and probably blame him for it and punch him in the nose to boot. Wonder if she’d still punch me in the nose if it was her nose she was punching? He sighed loudly. Trying to figure Buffy out was a full time job it seemed.
 
It was going on noon when he turned onto Revello Drive. He was slightly alarmed to see a police car parked in front of Buffy’s house. Shit. What happened? With his stomach churning slightly he pulled into the driveway and went in through the kitchen door.
 
“Buffy? Is that you?” Willow called from the living room.
 
“What’s going on?” Spike asked as he went through to the living room to see Willow and a patrolman, who was taking notes.
 
“Buffy, the car’s been stolen! When I got up it was gone, so I reported it. Officer Johansen here was just taking the report.”
 
“What? Willow, I used the car to drive Dawn to school this morning, and then I went for a bit of a ride. Why would you think it was stolen?” For the love of God, can’t the girl even drive her own car without official Scoobie permission?
 
Willow boggled. “You drove Dawn to school? But… you never drive!”
 
Spike shrugged. “I decided to change that.” Turning to the policeman he said, “Sorry for the trouble, officer, but if you look out the window you will see that the car is in fact back where it usually is, and since the car is registered to me, I can’t really be said to have stolen it.”
 
“I wish all stolen car cases were this easy to solve,” said Officer Johansen, closing his notebook. To Willow he said, “Maybe next time you should wait a bit longer before deciding the car is missing, okay?”
 
Willow turned as red as her hair and said, “I’m really sorry to have bothered you.”
 
“No worries. You ladies have a good day now,” said the policeman as he turned to go.
 
“Since when did you start driving?” Willow asked in astonishment.
 
Spike rolled Buffy’s eyes. “I didn’t know I needed a permission slip! We were going to be late. I decided to drive Dawn. I was having a good driving day, so I kept going. Okay, mother?”
 
Willow was taken aback by the irritated tone. “Sorry. I was just concerned, that’s all.”
 
Spike realized that he really had to go to the bathroom, which was a sensation he had done without since the 1880’s “Excuse me,” he said, heading upstairs.Okay, definitely time to go find Buffy before I get into more trouble around here, he mused as he took care of the body’s needs. He was going to go downstairs, make some excuse to Willow, and then go find Buffy and sort this out. They were probably going to need Scoobie help eventually, given the seemingly magical nature of the problem, but it was probably better if he and Buffy were together and on the same page before they told the others.
 
Spike went downstairs and was about to tell Willow he was leaving when the front door opened. “Hey ladies, how are things today?” Xander said as he came in.
 
“Don’t you ever knock?” Spike couldn’t help blurting out. The girl must get no peace whatsoever with this lot walking in whenever they bloody well please all day and night.
 
Xander stopped short. “Sorry, Buff. I never really knocked before, so I assumed you didn’t mind.”
 
“I mean, what if I had been changing, or having wild sex or something?” Spike said. “I think I should be able to expect a little bit of courtesy in my own house.”
 
“Wild sex?” Xander asked. “Is there some new boyfriend I don’t know about? Because, no offense, lately the only men I’ve seen you around are me and Spike.”
 
“And if you’re sleeping with Spike I’m outta here,” quipped Willow with a grin. She was glad to see Buffy trading barbs with Xander. If her sense of humor was coming back, that was a really good sign after all the depression.
 
“So I have to run any potential boyfriends past the Scoobie review board, is that it?” Spike asked, folding Buffy’s arms.
 
“Only if they don’t have a pulse,” Xander said. He grinned. “Good to see some of that ol’ Buffy humor coming back finally. We really missed it around here.”
 
Spike frowned. “Wasn’t particularly joking.”
 
Willow and Xander exchanged confused looks. “Sorry Buffy. I didn’t realize I was being rude with all the barging in. I’ll knock next time if it makes you happy.”
 
The whelp is fucking thick as a brick. Spike was flabbergasted that these morons thought that monitoring and weighing in on every aspect of Buffy’s life was standard operating procedure. He was equally appalled that Buffy allowed it. No wonder she’s so messed up about our relationship. These guys would give her a hard time if she brought home a Capricorn, let alone a vampire. He resisted the urge to knock their heads together and decided to drop the subject. “It’s fine, Ha-… Xander. Just feel like I’m constantly under the microscope here.”
 
“No worries, Buffy,” said Willow. “Hey, why don’t we all have some lunch. I could make some quesadillas, and we have salsa and guacamole.
 
“Thanks, Wils,” Xander said. “Don’t mind if I do.”
 
Spike ground his teeth. Where did the witch get off deciding who came to lunch and what lunch was in Buffy’s house? However, he swallowed his irritation again, and plastered on a fake smile. “Sounds great, Willow.” He took several deep breaths, trying to control his temper, since Buffy would have to deal with these people after they got their bodies back. He got out some glasses and sodas while Xander sat around and chatted. “Hey Xander, how about getting the plates?” he asked in irritation.
 
“Isn’t that work for the womenfolk?” Xander joked. Spike narrowed Buffy’s eyes at him and he said, “Kidding! I’ll just be… getting those plates now.” He wasn’t sure why Buffy was so completely grumpy today, but pissing off a supernaturally strong friend sounded like a bad prospect.
 
Willow served up lunch, and Spike had to admit – it tasted delicious. Man, I had no idea how good salsa and guacamole tasted with human taste buds. They were pretty good before, but this is bloody amazing. He found himself reaching for thirds, reveling in the spices and flavors that had been so muted with his vampire tastes.
 
“Did you skip breakfast this morning or something?” Willow asked.
 
“Huh?” Spike answered around a mouthful of tortilla chips.
 
“I mean, you’re eating like you haven’t had food in a hundred years,” Willow clarified.
 
Well, I sort of haven’t, but that’s none of your business, Red. “What is this? Scrutinize the Slayer day?”
 
Once again Willow was taken aback by Buffy’s irritated tone. “Are… are you mad at me or something?” she asked in a hurt voice.
 
“It’s not actually all about you, you know,” Spike said. “It would just be nice to be able to breathe in and out without you guys questioning why or how loud.”
 
Xander closed ranks with Willow saying, “We’re just concerned about you Buffy. We know things have been rough and we really want to help you.”
 
“If you want to help, then give h… me some space to breathe, alright?” Spike snarled. “I feel like I can’t bloody well take a shit without you guys weighing in.” Shit, gotta watch the Brit-speak. He got up and cleared his place, turning his back on them to attempt to regain composure.
 
Willow and Xander looked at each other – the Spike-like slang had attracted their notice. “Um, Buff?“ said Xander. “Do you think you’ve been maybe spending a little too much time with Spike? You’re starting to sound like him.”
 
Spike was a moment away from actually pounding heads together when the phone rang. He went to answer it, but Willow got there first. “Hello?” she said. “Oh, hi Anya. Yes, of course we remembered. We’re coming over now. See you soon.”
 
“She starting to wonder where we were?” Xander asked Willow.
 
“Yeah. I guess we better get over there.” She turned to Spike and said, “We’re sorry if we’re going all mother hen on you. Like Xander said, we just worry.”
 
“Whatever,” Spike said, thoroughly fed up. “Where are you off to now?” Hopefully Venezuela so that I can go find Buffy and get back to my life.
 
“You mean we,” Xander said. “Remember, we all said we’d help Anya with the inventory?”
 
“Do I have to?” Spike asked, realizing he was whining.
 
“Aw come on, you know it’s no fun without you,” Willow urged. “Besides, Dawn is coming after school to help too, so you might as well.”
 
“Fine,” Spike said through gritted teeth. Only five more hours until nightfall. I can keep from killing them until then. He was amazed at Buffy’s self control. If she put up with all this day after day, without murdering someone, she truly was the strongest Slayer the world had ever known.
 
As they drove to the Magic Box, Willow suddenly remembered something. “Buffy, before I forget, the phone bill came today, and it’s past due again.”
 
Spike looked at her for a moment and then asked, “Remind me, which bills do you take care of Willow?”
 
Willow looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
 
“I mean you live here rent free. Don’t you think maybe you should be paying the phone bill? Or one of the utilities or something?” Spike couldn’t believe these freeloaders.
 
“Well, I um…” Willow sputtered. Clearly the subject hadn’t really come up before. “I guess I never thought about it. I mean, we took care of everything while you were gone, but once you were back we thought you might want to do it since it’s your house.”
 
“Yeah, but you paid for everything with all the available savings,” Spike said. “And you haven’t really contributed since then.”
 
“She took care of Dawn and everything!” Xander protested.
 
“Ok, that’s great. But now she’s using my house and my electricity, and not paying a cent for it.”
 
“But, I thought you wanted me around,” Willow said, making the sad puppy eyes again.
 
“Sure. But haven’t you noticed how bad I’m struggling financially? Do you think that maybe you could throw in a few bucks now and then?” Clueless bitch, Spike added silently.
 
“But Giles said…” Xander began.
 
“Giles,” Spike spat out contemptuously. “He proclaimed ‘Thou Shalt Be On Your Own’ and left, and somehow Buffy was magically supposed to come up with money to pay all the overdue bills and support Dawn, while slaying all night and doing inventory for free at the Magic Box all day.” And I hope that lapse into third person just slipped right by you, you brainless git.
 
“Man, Buffy, who pissed in your Wheaties this morning?” Xander said in irritation. “You’ve done nothing but snap at us all day.”
 
Must. Control. Urge. To. Kill. Spike realized that he really needed to stop. Really, before Buffy was in so much hot water with her friends that she staked him the second they got their bodies back. “Look, let’s just drop it. We’ll discuss this later. Let’s just get this over with.” With an effort, Spike held his tongue for the rest of the ride to the Magic Box.
 
“Hey guys!” Anya said as they walked in the door. “Thanks for coming.” The Magic Box was full of delivery boxes, both empty and full.
 
“No problem, honey,” Xander said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “Just tell us what we need to do.”
 
Anya soon was rapping out orders like a drill sergeant on speed. Count this. Move that. Carry this. Do that. Spike found himself relegated to hauling things up and down the basement stairs since according to Anya, “You’re the one with the superhuman strength, and Willow’s the one who’s good at math.” Spike ground his teeth so hard he was sure Buffy would need a trip to the dentist when this was all over. So they tell her she’s stupid and nitpick her every move, and they consider themselves her friends? Gonna put all her enemies out of business.
 
He had been told to bring a bunch of boxes downstairs and unpack them. After bringing the last of the boxes down he decided that the body he was in was pretty thirsty, and could use a drink before starting to unpack. He was about to open the basement door when he heard Xander say in a low tone, “Did you hear Buffy earlier? I mean, she used ‘bloody’ in an actual sentence!”
 
Pausing, Spike listened as Willow chimed in. “Yeah. I wonder if we should worry. I mean, she couldn’t be considering starting anything with Spike, of all people. Could she?”
 
“Well, Spike is very attractive,” Anya said in her usual blunt way. “And vampires are known for their stamina.” Knew I liked you, demon girl.
 
“But he’s a soulless creature of evil!” Xander spluttered. “I mean, Angel was bad enough, but at least he had a soul.”
 
“The chip helps, I guess,” Willow conceded. “But what if it stops working?”
 
“Why don’t you just ask her about it?” Anya said.
 
“She’s all pissy today,” Xander said. “I’m really starting to wonder if something is seriously wrong with her.”
 
“Maybe we should call Giles,” Willow said. “If she’s starting to rely on Spike too much, he’d want to know.”
 
Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, Spike thought. They dig her up, expect her to do everything herself, all while expecting that they get to control everything she does. Why the hell does she allow this? He was about to go in there and give them a piece of his mind when the door opened and he heard Dawn’s voice say, “Hi guys! Where’s Buffy?”
 
“Downstairs,” said Anya.
 
Shit. He rushed back downstairs, feeling that what he wanted to say to the Scoobies probably contained words he didn’t want to use in front of the Nibblet. “Buffy?” Dawn called. “You down there?”
 
“Yes,” he replied. “How was school?”
 
“Okay, I guess,” Dawn said, coming downstairs.
 
“Mrs. Henderson said you need to work on your French grade,” he remembered.
 
“Yeah, yeah,” Dawn said sullenly. “Don’t see why we have to take a foreign language anyway. It’s not like I ever go anywhere.”
 
“Nevertheless, you need to pass French,” Spike said in Buffy’s voice. “I could probably help you with your homework you know.”
 
Dawn raised an eyebrow. “First driving, now actually noticing if I have homework? Who are you and what have you done with Buffy?”
 
If you only knew, Nibblet. “Just trying to help,” he muttered. He was starting to understand why Buffy was so depressed about being back here.
 
Dawn looked curiously at her sister. “You really want to help me?”
 
Biting back a smart aleck remark he said, “Yes, if you’ll let me.” And that’s true no matter what body I’m in. He had a soft spot for all the Summers women, God help him, and he never liked to see them suffer. He looked around at the pile of boxes and decided he didn’t give a rat’s ass about Anya’s inventory. “How about I take you home, help you with your homework, and we have dinner before patrol, okay?’ And maybe I can break the news to you about how I’m really not your sister.
 
Dawn smiled at her sister. It had been the first time in a while that Buffy had really seemed to look at her. “I’d really, really like that.”
 
Dawn led the way upstairs while Spike followed her. Great. Now she’s going to be all messed up when she finds out it wasn’t really Buffy taking an interest in her. What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, William? Upstairs he told the assembled Scoobies. “Dawn needs some homework help, and so we’re going home. We’ll see you guys later.”
 
“But the inventory?” Anya asked.
 
“And homework? Isn’t that usually my job?” Willow asked, bewildered.
 
“We need some sister time.” Spike said firmly. Then ignoring further protests, he walked out the door with Dawn trailing him.
 
“So tell me about your teachers, Dawn,” he said as they walked home. Much of the walk was taken up with teenage prattle about which teacher was cool, which ones were bitchy, which boys were cute, and so on. Spike wondered when was the last time anyone, including himself, had actually just listened to the girl. Between Willow’s magic freak out and her break up with Tara, and Buffy’s depression, no one was taking the girl in hand it seemed.
 
“Buffy?” Dawn was asking.
 
“Yeah?”
 
“What’s up with you and Spike?”
 
Danger. “What do you mean?” Spike asked casually, with Buffy’s heart in his throat.
 
“I mean, you seem to always be patrolling with him, and now he’s giving you driving hints and all. Are you going out with him?”
 
“Not as such,” he answered honestly. More like avoiding me after a really, really hot night of shagging. “But we seem to work well together.”
 
“He really did take good care of me over the summer,” Dawn said. “I felt safer when he was around.”
 
Spike puffed up with pride and broke out in a smile. “Glad to hear it,” he said. Then realizing that he was still expected to be Buffy he said, “It would have been awful to have no one who could protect you.”
 
“Do you think you’ll ever go out with him?” Dawn asked.
 
“No idea,” he answered. “I… I guess we’ll have to see what happens. I get the impression that the others would freak out.”
 
“Screw them.”
 
“Dawn! Language!” admonished Spike, although he was secretly pleased with the way the Nibblet stood up to them.
 
“Sorry, but they’re, like, always telling you what to do. Doesn’t it get annoying?”
 
You have no idea. “Sometimes,” he said noncommittally.
 
“Well, you should stand up to them. They shouldn’t be ordering you around like they’re the Watcher’s Council, Sunnydale Branch.”
 
Preaching to the choir, pet. “I’ll think about it.” They had reached their house and went in. Dawn got out her homework and they sat down. Spike was actually fluent in French, but he did his level best to appear only slightly more clued in than Dawn.
 
After an hour and a half, Dawn had finished all her homework, and actually felt like she had much more of a handle on French verbs than she ever had. “I had no idea you were good at all this stuff,” Dawn admitted. “Willow’s really smart, but sometimes it’s so obvious to her she can’t explain it, you know?”
 
“Yeah,” Spike replied. He was really in a bind. He felt lousy about continuing the deception, and resolved to tell her. “Dawn, I need to…” he began.
 
He was interrupted by the door opening and Willow coming in. “I’m home!” she declared. She came in to the dining room where Dawn was packing up her homework. “We got most of the inventory done, but I had to take off. All the magic stuff was making me twitchy.”
 
Spike groaned inwardly. “I’m sure Anya will survive. We were just about to start thinking about dinner.” So that I can go find Buffy and end this charade.
 
“Oh, I can make some stir fry!” Willow said. “I’ve got this recipe I’ve been dying to try.”
 
Spike looked at Dawn, who frowned slightly. “Dawn, what do you have a taste for?” Spike asked her pointedly.
 
“We really haven’t ordered pizza in weeks,” Dawn said. “I’m totally craving one.”
 
“Sounds good. Willow, do you mind ordering pizza for all of us?” Spike said.
 
“Um, okay,” Willow responded uncertainly. Buffy had been passive and disengaged for so long, and had been gone before that, and Willow had gotten used to calling the shots around the house. She hoped that this renewed assertiveness was a good sign. “What do you want on it?”
 
Dawn happily gave her favorite list of ingredients and Willow went off to make the call. “Thanks, Buffy. Another one of Willow’s tasteless stir fries was going to put me over the edge. Tara was a much better cook.
 
“Any time,” Spike said. He excused himself once more to the restroom, grumbling slightly to himself about how inconvenient it was to have to sit down every time. He checked out the mirror, still amused at the sight of Buffy’s face moving to his commands. “Spike, I love you,” he whispered to the mirror. So that’s what it would look like. He stared for a moment more, then shook himself. You are being a complete and utter git, William. Get out there, feed the Nibblet, and go find Buffy. Taking one last look at the face of the woman he loved, he went to rejoin the girls. 

TBC

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss Whedon owns everything.

Thank you so much to the reviewers! I appreciate the feedback!


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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.
 
*********************
 
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

Disclaimer: All the vampires are belong to Joss.

On this Thanksgiving weekend, I am ever so thankful for all the reviewers. Here's another chapter to read, if you can sneak away from the relatives long enough! 



***********************
Chapter 5
***********************
 
“Did you just see what I saw?” Anya gasped in disbelief.
 
Xander picked up his jaw from somewhere around his knees and said, “If you just saw Buffy kissing fangboy.”
 
“When did this happen?” Anya asked. “Are they… together? Like, together together?”
 
“I have no idea,” Xander responded, shaking his head. “I need to call Willow.” He went into the office and dialed Buffy’s number by heart.
 
“Hello?” Willow answered after a few rings.
 
“Wils, it’s me,” Xander said. “You are never going to believe what Anya and I just saw.”
 
“What is it?” Willow asked curiously.
 
“We just witnessed Buffy in a liplock with Spike. While he was all vamped out, I might add.”
 
Willow nearly dropped the phone in surprise. “Huh? I mean, how? What?”
 
“We were in here cleaning up and Spike came barging in, fanged out and drunk, clearly up to no good. I ended up needed to use a cross to get him to leave.”
 
Willow gasped. “Did he try to hurt you? Is there something wrong with his chip?”
 
“He didn’t go after us, exactly,” Xander admitted. “But he kept saying something had happened, and he looked really confused. And like I said – full fang face, which I am never going to get used to.”
 
“So how did Buffy come into this?” Willow asked, perplexed. “She left to go on patrol not that long ago.”
 
“We were looking through the window to make sure Spike was leaving,” Xander explained. “She came up to him on the sidewalk. She looked like she was checking over his injuries and then she kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek either.” Xander added.
 
Willow shook her head. “What could he have been up to? And what is up with Buffy today?”
 
“I know. She’s been on edge all day. Could Spike have her under some kind of thrall or something?” Xander asked worriedly.
 
“I don’t think Spike has those types of abilities, but who knows,” Willow said. She thought for a moment. “I know I said I wasn’t going to use magic, but maybe I should do a disinvite spell, just until we can talk to Buffy and make sure she isn’t under some sort of control.”
 
Xander thought for a moment. “We’ll come over right now. Anya can do the spell, and then the three of us can talk to her when she gets home.”
 
“Good. Dawn’s asleep, so we’ll have to be quiet so we don’t wake her. I’ll leave the back door open,” Willow said. They said their goodbyes and hung up. Anya and Xander lost no time in grabbing their coats and heading out to their car. They only hoped they would get there in time to assist Willow in what was clearly an intervention situation.
 
*******************************
 
Buffy and Spike made their way to the butcher’s, with Buffy wincing nearly constantly. “How do you think I ended up a vampire for the day?” Buffy asked, coughing painfully.
 
“Easy, pet,” Spike answered. “Gonna want that body returned in the condition that I lent it to you.”
 
“I’ll do my best,” she groaned.
 
“As for what happened, I’m as lost as you are,” Spike continued. “I went to bed in my crypt, woke up in your body, in your bed.”
 
“Why didn’t you come find me right away?” Buffy wondered.
 
“I would have, but there was a conference this morning with Dawn’s teacher and I didn’t want you two to get in trouble for missing it.”
 
Buffy stopped and stared at him. “Holy shit, I totally forgot!” Her borrowed voice was tinged with panic.
 
“Relax, Slayer,” Spike soothed as they continued on. “I managed to convince them that I was Dawn’s guardian. She needs to get to school on time and bring up her French grade. Otherwise, she’s doing well enough. They want her to talk to the counselor at school about any lingering issues about losing your mum. I told them that was a good idea. You can call and change your mind if you like.”
 
Buffy looked at him again, Spike’s face registering her puzzled feeling. “You did all that?”
 
Buffy’s face turned red as Spike said, “Well, yeah. I didn’t want the Nibblet to get taken away from you. Promised you I’d look after her.”
 
Buffy didn’t know what to say to that. Why does he keep going back to that promise? What kind of demon is he anyway? She finally decided to go with a muttered, “Thanks.” They reached the butchers and went in.
 
“Mr. Spike, how are we this evening?” said the butcher. “What can I get you?”
 
Buffy wasn’t sure exactly what to order. “The usual, please,” she said hopefully.
 
The butcher reached behind and came up with four containers of blood. “Here you are. Four pints of my best pig. That will be eighteen dollars.
 
Buffy fished in Spike’s pocket and came up with a ten and a couple of ones. “Um, do you have any money I can borrow?” she asked Spike sheepishly. Spike reached into the pockets of Buffy’s jeans and came up empty, shrugging. Right. He’s me. I’m broke. To the butcher she said, “I’m a bit short today. Can you give me a half order?”
 
“No problem. Nine dollars,” he said, putting two of the containers away. Buffy handed over the money, picked up the bag, and followed Spike out the door.
 
“There’s a little park around the corner,” Spike said. “Maybe you should drink that now, so you can start healing up.”
 
“Good idea,” Buffy said. She followed him to the park and sat down next to him on a bench. She opened one of the containers and grimaced at the smell, but once again the demon popped out, fangs and all. “God this is annoying! How the hell do you get your face to stay put?”
 
“Years of practice, love,” Spike said.
 
“And this pig’s blood is completely disgusting!” Buffy went on.
 
“No arguments there,” Spike agreed. “But disgusting or not, best drink up. Never going to fix those broken ribs without some nourishment.” Spike watched in amusement as Buffy took a deep, unneeded breath and chugged the blood down like it was medicine. She shuddered and grimaced, then repeated the whole exercise with the second container.
 
“Bleh! How can you stand this stuff?” Buffy said. “And how do you drink it without vamping out all the time? I can’t figure out what muscles to flex to get the bumpies to go away.”
 
“It’s not a muscle thing,” Spike explained. “It’s more of a mental thing. If you’re all tensed up, it’s hard to control. Close your eyes, relax, and picture my human face. And it sounds stupid, but sometimes it helps to think ‘Down boy’ at the demon.”
 
Buffy did as she was told. She closed her eyes and pictured Spike’s face. Really, really blue eyes. Those cheekbones. That smirky mouth with those amazing lips. That’s what I’m looking for, so just back off, alright, Mr. Fangy? She was relieved to feel that strange shift again, and opened her eyes. She ran her tongue experimentally over Spike’s human teeth and said, “Thanks. Nice to be able to talk without lacerating my tongue. Or your tongue, I guess.”
 
“We should probably get back to your place,” Spike said. “See if we can’t get the others to help us figure this out.”
 
“Good idea,” Buffy agreed. She stood up, pleased to notice that the headache was mostly gone, and the ribs were feeling minutely better. They started walking, still at a moderate pace, back toward Revello Drive.
 
“So what did you do all day?” Spike asked curiously. “I see you made short work of my whiskey supply.”
 
“Yeah, well, I needed to wash down the blood,” Buffy said sheepishly. “And I sorta set your arm on fire in the morning.”
 
Spike stared at her. “Bloody hell, Slayer. How’d you accomplish that?”
 
“Well I woke up, found that I was you, freaked out, and tried to go home. Forgot about the sunlight thingy for a minute,” Buffy explained.
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “All these years fighting us vampires and you haven’t noticed our slight flammability issues?”
 
“It just took a while to adjust, that’s all,” Buffy protested.
 
“Fine. You torched my arm. Then what?” Spike prompted.
 
“Well, I sorta… well…”
 
“You read my journals.” Buffy looked at him in surprise. “I checked the crypt before I went to the Magic Box to see if you were there.”
 
“Um, yeah,” Buffy admitted, and if she could have blushed in her current body she would have been red as a beet. “I was stuck there, and I didn’t know how to get through the tunnels…”
 
“It’s okay, Slayer,” Spike said, letting her off the hook. “Learn anything interesting?”
 
“I learned that you’re a good writer,” she said. “Some of that stuff was pretty hilarious. Did you really get stoned at Woodstock?”
 
Spike laughed. “Yeah. Believe it or not, I didn’t actually kill anyone there. Spent the whole time doing catch and release. The hippies were doing some good shit, let me tell you. At one point I spent an hour just watching my hand move.”
 
“Must have been quite a party,” Buffy commented with a small smile. After a moment she said, “What took you so long to come find me?”
 
Spike sighed. “I took a bit of a drive in Joyce’s car after the teacher’s conference. When I got back Willow was in the process of reporting it stolen because apparently you’re not allowed to drive or something.”
 
“I guess I don’t usually drive unless it’s an apocalyptic emergency,” Buffy admitted.
 
Spike continued, “Then Xander came over and Willow decreed that lunch was served, and then I got herded to the Magic Box to do inventory for Anya.” He broke off and looked at her. “I don’t know how you do it, Slayer.”
 
“Do what?”
 
“Refrain from strangling them,” he said. “Between Willow and Xander acting like it’s their house, not yours, and their constant need to weigh in on every little thing you do, I don’t wonder why you didn’t want to come back to this. I was ready to kill them after a couple hours.”
 
“I guess it’s good that you didn’t,” Buffy said in a tired voice. “Never really thought about it much. I use up a lot of my energy just getting through the days. It’s easier to just… go along.” A frown pulled down the corners of Spike’s blue eyes. She hated to admit it, but Spike had really hit the nail on the head. She had long since given up trying to wrest control of her life away from Watchers and Scoobies. I’m miserable most of the time anyway. Why add more crap to the pile by arguing?
 
Spike looked at her and took in her unhappiness. She was the Slayer. She was power and grace and beauty and death all wrapped up in one package, and he admired her for it. To see her so defeated all the time lately was heartbreaking. To know that a lot of the unhappiness was caused by her so-called friends was infuriating. As he was trying to think of what to say, he realized they had reached Buffy’s street. “Well, we’re here,” he said finally, for once at a loss for words.
 
Buffy looked up at her house with trepidation. “Yeah. Guess we have to go try to explain all this.” She turned to Spike for a moment and leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek.
 
Spike cocked his head. “What was that for, love?” he asked.
 
“For taking care of Dawn this morning,” she said. “And for listening. Again.”
 
Spike reached out and gently stroked Buffy’s face. “Anytime,” he said quietly. Then they turned as one and walked up to the front door.

TBC

Disclaimer: All the vampires belong to Joss (doo dah, doo dah).

Thanks so much for taking time to review! Hope the wait wasn't too long for you. 


************************************
Chapter 6
************************************
 
Xander and Anya had arrived at Buffy’s house ten minutes after they hung up the phone, and were conferring with Willow in hushed whispers in the living room. Anya had performed the disinvite spell, and they had all agreed that they would sit Buffy down and calmly explain their concerns to her, practicing what they were going to say. Anya had wondered what they were going to do if Buffy got violent, but Willow and Xander thought it unlikely. “She might get mad,” Willow reasoned. “But she’d never hurt us.”
 
They had kept watch anxiously, looking out the front window constantly to see if she was back yet. Now it was Willow’s turn to gasp as she looked out once more and saw Spike tenderly kiss Buffy’s cheek, while Buffy stroked his face. “They’re both here!” Willow hissed. “What do we do?”
 
“Let’s just remember what we agreed to say, and ask her to just talk to us for a second without Spike,” Xander said with a confidence he didn’t actually feel.
 
Outside, Buffy led the way to the front door, unconsciously taking the lead, despite the fact that she was still Spike-shaped. She took a deep breath, then strode up to the door, only to find herself slamming into what felt like an invisible wall. “Ow! What the hell?” She tried to grab the doorknob, but her hand bounced again off the mystical barrier.
 
Spike dropped his jaw and stared at Buffy. “You disinvited me? Why?”
 
“I didn’t disinvite you!” Buffy protested. “You were here yesterday, remember?” She brought her hand up once more to feel the barrier. “It must have been Willow or something. Can you open the door?”
 
Spike walked up and turned the knob, stepping over the threshold. As he was about to turn and invite Buffy in, Willow called, “Buffy, wait! We just want to talk to you alone for a moment. Spike might be dangerous!”
 
Spike turned and looked at them. “What in the hell are you talking about? I’m not dangerous,” he said in obvious exasperation.
 
The Scoobies looked at each other confused. “No, Buff, we said Spike is dangerous. He came into the Magic Box all fanged out and lunged at us,” Xander explained, wondering if Buffy had truly lost it.
 
“I most certainly did not!” Buffy said indignantly from the other side of the barrier. “Will you just shut up and listen to us? And let me in my house you morons!”
 
“Your house? Since when?” Willow sputtered. Ignoring the presumed vampire, she turned to the presumed Slayer in front of her. “Buffy, there’s something wrong with you. You seem to be really confused and out of sorts today.”
 
“And you were kissing Spike,” Anya put in. “I mean, that’s not what Slayers do.”
 
“If you would all just shut up for a moment, and let us explain,” Spike snarled. “You might actually find that you don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.” He turned to the door, “Come…”
 
Xander jumped forward and grabbed Spike’s arm. “Buffy stop! He’s got you under some kind of control or something. You’ve got to listen to us! We’re trying to help you.”
 
“Get your bloody hands off me!” Spike yelled, turning and shoving Xander so hard that he flew backward and stumbled to the floor. “Slayer, would you please come in here so that we can enlighten these idiots?”
 
The barrier disappeared and Buffy stepped inside. “We can try, I suppose” Buffy sighed. They turned to face the others, whose faces showed a combination of confusion and fear.
 
“What’s going on?” came a voice from upstairs. Dawn appeared on the stairway, having been woken by all the noise.
 
“Buffy seems to be having a breakdown of some sort and we’re trying to do an intervention,” Anya said.
 
“I am NOT having a breakdown!” Buffy cried. “I’m in Spike’s body, you dumbasses! We switched somehow!”
 
The others stopped dead, jaws dropping, completely mystified. “Come again?” Willow finally spit out.
 
“When the Slayer and I woke up this morning, we were somehow in each other’s bodies. We don’t know how,” Spike explained. “Been trying to find a way to tell you guys all damn day.”
 
“You… wait… what?” Xander sputtered.
 
Buffy and Spike both rolled their eyes. Buffy spoke slowly, as if to a small child. “Xander. I am Buffy, trapped in Spike’s body. Like the body swap with Faith, remember? Only this time I have no clue how. I went to bed here, woke up in a crypt with a sunlight allergy.”
 
“And between teacher conferences and being ordered about and helping with homework, I never got a moment to tell you folks that I was stuck in the Slayer’s body all day. I figured it was better to tell you lot when both of us were together, given your tendency to overreaction.” He glared at them with Buffy’s green eyes.
 
“So that wasn’t Buffy?” Dawn asked. Everyone turned to her and Spike’s heart sank when he saw the hurt look on her face. “I should have known. I should have known that my actual sister wouldn’t want to spend time with me.” She turned and fled back up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door.
 
“Dawn!” Spike and Buffy called after her. Shit, thought Spike. Knew this would happen. He turned to Buffy, “One of us should go talk to her.”
 
“She’ll be fine for a moment,” Buffy said. Turning to the others she said, “Are you guys done now? Do you finally get it?”
 
The Scoobies looked at Buffy and Spike in disbelief. “So, all that grouchiness today? That was Spike?” Xander asked.
 
“I wasn’t grouchy!” Spike exploded. “I was doing my best to take care of Buffy’s commitments until we could figure this out. Pardon me if I didn’t live up to your standards.”
 
“Look,” Buffy broke in. “I’m exhausted and I’m in pain right now. Whatever caused this will have to get sorted out in the morning. I need you guys to leave.”
 
Anya and Xander couldn’t quite get their brains around this creature shaped like Spike, with Spike’s voice, ordering them out of Buffy’s house. They looked to Willow for guidance. “Spike… er… Buffy’s right. We can’t sort this out right now. We’ll have to go into research mode tomorrow.”
 
“But then… who’s staying here?” Anya asked in confusion. “The body, or the brain?”
 
“We are both staying here,” Buffy said firmly. “Now can you please let me be for a while?”
 
Xander and Anya reluctantly got their jackets and left, giving several unsure backward glances at Spike and Buffy. Spike closed the door and faced Willow. “Red, the Slayer and I need to talk. Alone. Now.”
 
“Um, sure,” Willow said. “I’ll just… I’ll be going upstairs now.” She made her way uncertainly to the stairs. She turned back at the top, but in the end couldn’t think of anything to say, so she retired uncertainly to her room.
 
“You need to sit down, Slayer,” Spike said. Buffy took off Spike’s duster and made her way over to the couch. She eased herself down and put her feet up on the coffee table. Spike took his place next to her and asked, “How’s the ribs?”
 
“Better, but still sore. At least the headache’s gone. They weren’t kidding when they made that chip, were they?” Buffy said.
 
“I could probably write a book about all the things I would like to do to the guy who invented that thing,” Spike admitted.
 
“After experiencing the effects, I think I might offer to hold him down while you did it,” Buffy said. “Can you bring me up to speed on what Dawn’s issue is?”
 
Spike took a deep breath. “It’s like this. This morning she was pretty upset that you, or what she took to be you, had apparently forgotten about the teacher conference. After school she came to the Magic Box and I offered to help her with her homework instead of that goddamn inventory bullshit. I let her prattle on about school and boys and all that teenage stuff – none of us have really spent any quality time with the girl since Tara left. I helped her with her French, let her have pizza for dinner. I think she was really happy that you were taking notice of her. So now she’s pretty pissed that it wasn’t really you.”
 
Buffy closed Spike’s blue eyes and rubbed her temples. Shit, shit, shit. I really don’t need to deal with the teenage crap right now. “I suppose we should go talk to her,” Buffy said wearily. “Although I don’t exactly know what to say.” She hauled herself off the couch and looked up at the stairs without enthusiasm.
 
“It’ll be alright, Slayer. Just need to explain things to the girl, that’s all.” He tried to sound self-assured, but he had the feeling that the rift between the sisters had just gotten a lot deeper.
 
Spike led the way to Dawn’s room and he knocked quietly on the door. “Dawn? May we come in?”
 
“No,” came Dawn’s curt reply.
 
Ignoring her, Spike opened the door anyway. “That’s no way to talk, missy,” he said sternly. “Your sister and I have had a long, completely screwed up day, and we just want to clear the air with you a bit.”
 
Dawn turned over on her bed to face away from them. “You lied to me. The one person I could ever trust to be straight with me. You made me think that Buffy actually cared about me for once.”
 
“Dawn, I do care about you,” Buffy insisted. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been as on top of things as I could be. I’m really trying. It’s just been so hard for me.”
 
“So why do I have to suffer then?” Dawn yelled, sitting up and fixing them with a furious look. “You came back and didn’t want to. I get it. But I didn’t ask for any of this! Maybe if I actually got sent to a foster home you might take ten minutes to, I don’t know, notice I’m gone? As it is I could probably sprout horns and you’d never notice!”
 
“That’s not fair and you know it,” Spike said. “Your sis loves you more than anything on this earth. You could be a little more grateful and understanding instead of adding to her problems.”
 
“Sorry my existence causes problems,” Dawn spit out bitterly.
 
“Dawn, you’re not a problem,” Buffy said, her eyes filling with tears. “I promise to try harder, I really do. Please, just give me a chance?”
 
“Promises. Everyone makes them,” Dawn said, turning her back on them once more. “Just leave me alone.”
 
“Nibblet, look, can we just…” Spike began.
 
“Get OUT!” she screamed.
 
“Fine,” Buffy snarled. She stormed out of the room, hurt tears spilling down her cheeks. Spike looked at Dawn with a frown stitched across Buffy’s face, but in the end he decided to leave her to calm down. Makes me long for the old days when you could take a switch to her for talking to her elders like that. He closed the door and went downstairs to where Buffy sat, slouched on the couch looking miserable.
 
“You alright Slayer?” he asked.
 
“I’m fine. She’s right. I suck at this whole guardian thing.”
 
“That’s bollocks,” Spike said. The slang still sounded completely bizarre in Buffy’s American accent. “You take everything on your shoulders, and no one lifts a damn finger to help you. It’s no bloody wonder you’re tired and depressed all time.” He was angry, and it showed through in Buffy’s blazing green eyes.
 
Buffy shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “I’m so tired. I just can’t figure all this out right now. Please.”
 
Spike took pity on the Slayer once more and decided not to press the point. “Come on, love,” he said. He coaxed her off the couch and upstairs to her room. “Why don’t you take the bed tonight. You’re probably still sore, and I’ll fit better on the couch in my current state.”
 
“Ok,” Buffy agreed. When she got to her room she sat down to take off her shoes while Spike looked around at the room. “Do you have any extra quilts?”
 
“Hall closet. Why?” Buffy asked.
 
“Gotta cover the windows. Woke up with a sunbeam on my face this morning. Must’ve jumped fifteen feet in the air, shrieking like a girl.”
 
“Um, you are a girl,” Buffy said with a faint smile.
 
“Well, yeah, I guess,” Spike said. “But I’ve still got my manly interior to worry about.” He went out to find the quilt while Buffy hung Spike’s duster carefully over a chair. She hunted around to find something to sleep in that would fit Spike’s body, but she had no luck. Spike came back in and said, “What are you looking for, pet?”
 
Buffy frowned. “I feel weird sleeping with no pajamas,” she admitted.
 
Spike laughed a bit. “Well, I feel weird sleeping with pajamas, so I guess we’re even.” He hung the quilt carefully over the curtain rod, tucking it in securely. He turned to see Buffy holding out a pair of dark blue pajamas.
 
“These are the least girly of them,” she said. “Really don’t want you parading my body past all the windows for the neighbors to see, if you don’t mind.”
 
Spike looked to the heavens. “The things I put up with,” he muttered. He took the proffered pajamas and said, “You get some sleep now, Slayer. We’ll sort all this out in the morning.” He made his way toward the bathroom to change.
 
“Spike?” Buffy called. He turned at the doorway. Sheepishly, Buffy said, “Thanks for taking care of me.”
 
“Anytime,” he said quietly. After the door closed Buffy took off Spike’s jeans and folded them, placing them on the chair with his duster. She decided to sleep in the t-shirt and climbed in under the covers. She reached over and turned off the light, mindful of how the sheets slipped and slid over her half naked body. Slightly ashamed, but curious, she reached down to explore the male body parts she had only glimpsed in the morning. Having this thing hanging out all over the place was truly weird. How do guys put up with this thing flopping around all over when they sleep? she wondered. She found the sensation of the foreskin pulling back to be almost as strange as the sensation of fangs popping into her mouth. There was just no female analogue. As she explored she found that her, or rather Spike’s, cock was lengthening, becoming aroused. Embarrassment and lust fought in Buffy’s head, but lust won in the end as she stroked this strange appendage she was suddenly connected to. She found herself remembering scenes from that night in the abandoned house. His tongue. Oh my God that thing he did with his tongue. And when he held my hands down and did that… dance or whatever he did with his hips… She closed her eyes and stroked faster, falling into a rhythm. Spike… With a stifled groan she came, reveling in the explosive sensation. Wow. No wonder guys want it all the time. But a moment later she realized two things – the bed was now sticky, and she had been essentially giving Spike a hand job. That was just… wrong. Absolutely wrong, in every way there is to be wrong. Disgusted with her own lack of self control, she moved over to the dry side of the bed and settled in. Between the long night and the sexual release, she found herself asleep within minutes.
 
Spike had gone into the bathroom, extracted himself from the female clothing, and used the toilet. These bodily functions are a bit of a drag, he mused. Forgot how much time humans spend in the WC. He was grateful that they were beyond the era of privies and chamber pots. The memory of shivering in the winter to answer the call of nature was not one he cherished. He got into the blue satin pajamas, enjoying the feeling against his skin. The ladies always do know how to luxuriate. He grabbed a spare pillow and blanket from the hall closet and went down to make himself comfortable on the couch, shutting off lights as he went. He settled in and found it was reasonably comfortable, especially given his current height. Buffy’s body was so tiny she could curl up almost anywhere. He found himself tossing and turning a bit though. It had been such a roller coaster of a day. He lay on his back, his hands resting on his stomach. One hand moved up to stroke Buffy’s breasts, feeling the pebble-like nipples under the smooth satin. Interesting, he thought as he tweaked and played with the nipples. He knew that women were turned on when he fondled their breasts, but he never quite knew about the direct connection between the nipples and their sex. It was like a little electric shock, and he found himself getting moist between the legs. Buffy would probably freak out if she knew I was playing with her body, he thought. But she doesn’t need to know, now does she? He snaked his other hand into the pajama bottoms, experimenting until he found the right buttons to press. He closed his eyes, his fingers slick and flying over Buffy’s clit. Too bad she isn’t more flexible. Would love to dip my tongue in her again. The memory of going down on her in that shattered basement sent him over the edge with a shudder and a gasp. He was intrigued by what a woman’s orgasm felt like. It was deeper somehow, not as violent, but longer and more consuming. Need to store that knowledge away for later, William. Who knows, she might someday let you touch her again. He sighed and rolled on his side, drifting off to sleep, wondering how this was all going to play out.
 
TBC

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

Thanks so much for all the reviews!

*********************
Chapter 7
*********************
 
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.
 
***************************
 
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.
 
****************************
 
“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

Disclaimer: All the characters and recognizable dialog are Joss Whedon's, except for an exerpt from Billy Idol's Dancing with Myself.

Thanks so much for the many, many kind and helpful reviews!


********************
Chapter 8
********************
 
“So let’s take another drink, ‘cause it will give me time to think…” Spike was on his way home with spare clothes for Buffy, as much blood as he had been able to purchase, and Billy Idol’s ‘Dancing with Myself’ blaring on the radio. Might as well soak up the sun while I can, he reasoned as he cruised back to Revello Drive with the windows down. He sat in the driveway for an extra thirty seconds, waiting for the last chord of the song to die away before he turned the car off. He grabbed the bag of blood with one hand and a duffle bag full of clothes with the other and headed inside.
 
Willow and Xander broke off their conversation abruptly when they heard the door open. There was an awkward moment as Spike took in their ‘caught talking behind someone’s back’ look. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said sarcastically. He dropped the duffle bag and went to fit the blood containers into the fridge. “Where’s Buffy?”
 
“She’s upstairs,” Willow said. “She um, vamped out at me when I cut my finger.”
 
Spike’s concern registered on Buffy’s face. “Is she alright?”
 
Xander frowned. “What do you mean is Buffy alright? Willow’s the one who almost got eaten for breakfast.”
 
Spike fought the urge to deck Xander, and instead grabbed a container of blood and opened it. He poured it into the largest mug he could find and put it in the microwave, slamming the door and punching the buttons hard. Once it started he turned around and said, “Look, whelp. That’s your friend inside my body, right? She probably just endured a massive electrical shock right to the center of her brain. I can tell you – hurts like fucking hell. Sometimes I get bloody noses from the burst blood vessels. So yeah, I’m concerned about her. Question is why am I the only one who is?” The microwave beeped and Spike turned, grabbed the mug, scooped up the duffel from the floor, and stomped upstairs without another word. Willow and Xander swallowed nervously and went back to their breakfast in silence.
 
Spike knocked on Buffy’s door. “Buffy? Room service,” he said lightly. He opened the door slowly and poked his head in. Buffy was just finishing making the bed, after having changed the sheets to hide the evidence of her explorations of Spike’s body the night before. “Well now everyone will know it’s not me in there if you’re making the bed,” he quipped.
 
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the mug of blood. “Thank God,” she said. She grabbed it out of his hand and drank it down as quickly as she could manage, noting that it was slightly less foul when heated. “It’s exhausting trying to control this demon all the time.”
 
“It’s like sticking to an exercise routine,” Spike said, sitting down next to her on the bed. “Really hard at first, gets easier the more you do it, then it just becomes automatic.”
 
“Well I am definitely not at the automatic stage yet,” Buffy said ruefully.
 
“Heard you took a snap at Willow while I was gone,” said Spike.
 
“That blood smell just yanks the demon right out, doesn’t it,” Buffy said. “I mean, it’s like someone else took the wheel completely.”
 
“I bought a whole bunch of extra blood, so hopefully you won’t get caught short before we get this sorted out,” Spike assured her.
 
“Thanks. What did you use for money? My bank account is almost empty,” Buffy said.
 
“I used my own stash, so don’t worry about it,” Spike said.
 
Buffy frowned. “Ill gotten cash, I take it?”
 
“Won it in a poker game,” Spike explained. “Almost fair and square.”
 
“I’ve seen you play poker,” Buffy admonished. “But I guess I can’t really complain since you’re spending it to keep me from eating people.”
 
“We’ll work out the money details later, Slayer,” Spike said. He stood up and indicated the duffle bag. “Clean duds are in there. I’ll go downstairs and feed your body while you dress mine, alright?”
 
“Alright,” Buffy agreed. Spike left her to it, taking the empty mug down to the kitchen.
 
Xander and Willow had finished their breakfast and were sipping coffee when Spike came down. He looked in the freezer and came up with some frozen waffles. Wonder what these really taste like? He perused the directions and popped two of them in the toaster, turning to face the others. “So what, are you going to stare at me like I’ve got antlers all day, or are you going to talk?”
 
Willow sputtered, “We were… sorry, this is just really awkward. I mean, you’re Buffy, but you’re not. I don’t know what to say to you.”
 
“You mean you might have to treat me like a person all of a sudden?” Spike asked. “Yeah, that’s gonna be tough.” The toaster popped up and he turned to get his breakfast. He found the butter and syrup and sat down to enjoy breakfast. At the first bite he closed his eyes and sighed.
 
“What’s with the orgasms over food?” Xander asked, remembering the Mexican food pig out over lunch the previous day.
 
Spike fixed him with an exasperated look. “For all that you’ve spent years hanging out with the Slayer, you sure haven’t learned a lot about vampires, have you?” He took another bite then explained. “Vampires get enhanced hearing, enhanced sight, enhanced sense of smell. In exchange, we tend to lose our taste for human food. All tastes about the same, except for the really spicy stuff, and even that is pretty muted. I literally haven’t really tasted food in more than a hundred years, and I intend to enjoy it while I can.” With that he went back to his breakfast.
 
Buffy came into the room at that point. “H… how are you doing?” Willow asked.
 
“I’m fine,” she said. She sat down next to Spike. “So what’s the plan?”
 
“I guess we’re going to go into research mode,” said Willow. “We need to find out how this could have happened.”
 
“Well, were you doing any spells we should know about?” Buffy asked.
 
Willow looked hurt. “No! I haven’t done any spells since… since the car accident. Really, you’ve got to believe me!”
 
“It’s okay, Wils,” Xander reassured her. “We believe you.”
 
“Not so sure I do,” Spike grumbled, earning a dirty look from Xander. “But for the sake of argument, let’s say that wasn’t it. Not sure what it could be.” He got up to get some coffee for himself and for Buffy. “Here – even with the vamp taste buds coffee is good to have.”
 
“Thanks,” Buffy said. She took a sip and found that Spike was right – coffee was a necessary thing.
 
“So when did this all start?” Xander asked.
 
Buffy wrinkled Spike’s brow in thought. “Night before last. I was patrolling and ran into Spike.”
 
“You had just finished taking out some monstrous big fledge, right?” Spike said. “Not sure why but it seems kind of hazy now.”
 
“We were… arguing, weren’t we?” Buffy asked, turning to Spike.
 
“That’s right,” Spike agreed. “Then we… that is I…” He wasn’t sure about the Scoobies’ reaction to their kissing would be, and he didn’t know if Buffy wanted to find out.
 
“You kissed me,” Buffy said quietly.
 
Xander opened his mouth to say something but Willow stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Then what happened?” she asked, sensing that they were on to something.
 
Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know. I know I went home. But it was like I was on autopilot. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. Like I had gotten a knock on the head.”
 
“Same here,” Spike said. “Walked into my crypt like I’d never been there before or something. Felt like I was drunk.”
 
“Aren’t you usually?” Xander said with distaste.
 
“Get bent, Harris,” Spike said. “I’ll have you know I was stone cold sober that night.”
 
“Did you notice anything else? Any demons or anything like that?” Willow asked.
 
Did I see something? Right at the end? Someone…? Buffy shook her head. “I feel like I saw something, but I can’t remember what it was. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t place it.”
 
Spike was shaking his head as well. “Don’t remember a bloody thing.”
 
The phone rang at this point, and Willow got up to answer it before either Buffy or Spike could move. “Hello? Hey, Anya. That will totally help. We’ll send someone over.” Willow hung up the phone. “That was Anya. She found a couple of good books on personality altering spells that can help us, but she can’t leave the store right now.
 
“I’ll go,” Spike ventured. He didn’t want to admit it to the witch and the whelp, but he desperately wanted to experience as much sunlight as he could before switching back.
 
“How do we know you’re not going to do something illegal or something?” Xander asked suspiciously.
 
“Xander, if he wanted to do something evil, then he wouldn’t have spent yesterday taking care of my sister,” Buffy said in a tired voice. “He just wants to enjoy the sunlight. Am I right?” Buffy asked, looking at Spike.
 
Spike blushed to the roots of Buffy’s hair. “Um, yeah. It’s been a while.”
 
“Go ahead then,” Buffy said with a faint smile. “Walk this time – you’ll get to enjoy the sun longer.”
 
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Spike said, shooting Buffy a grateful look. He finished up his coffee and left for the Magic Box.
 
Willow and Xander both let out sighs of relief when the door closed behind Spike. “Man, this is way awkward,” Xander said.
 
Buffy got up to pour herself more coffee. “It’s definitely weird. I’m not used to having to keep an eye out for sunbeams.”
 
“At least we know now why you were acting so off yesterday,” Willow commented with a nervous laugh. “I mean, you literally weren’t yourself.”
 
Buffy sat down and sipped some coffee. Finally she asked, “What did Spike do that was so unusual?”
 
“Aside from driving?” Willow said jokingly. “I mean, that should have tipped us off right there.” Buffy managed a tight-lipped smile, but said nothing.
 
Oblivious, Xander carried on. “He snapped at me the moment I came in the door – asking how come I didn’t knock. He got totally bent out of shape with everything we said. Willow reminded you – I mean him – about the phone bill and she, he – gah! Whomever started griping about how Willow doesn’t pay her way enough.”
 
“Then he ditched us at the Magic Box and voluntarily helped Dawn with her homework,” Willow finished.
 
“And what was wrong with all that?” Buffy asked, fixing Spike’s blue eyes on them.
 
“Well… it was…” Xander sputtered, wondering what Buffy was getting at. “It wasn’t wrong, I guess. I mean, helping Dawn isn’t wrong. But it was just so unlike you to be so touchy about everything.”
 
“Yeah, you’re usually pretty ‘go with the flow’, so it was just a bit surprising, that’s all,” Willow added.
 
Buffy pondered all this for a moment. “So I usually just agree with you?”
 
Willow was puzzled at the slightly sad note to Buffy’s voice. “Not always. But you usually are better at coming to a consensus and all that.”
 
“Yeah,” said Buffy quietly. Coming to your consensus, you mean. She drank more coffee, feeling more depressed and trapped with each passing moment. I’m only Buffy if I’m agreeing with you, is that it?
 
Xander took the opportunity to bring up what had been on his mind. “Buffy, what is up with you and Spike?”
 
“What do you mean?” she asked warily.
 
“You let him kiss you. Outside the Magic Box – Anya and I saw what we thought was you coming up and kissing Spike. Then you say he was kissing you the other night.”
 
“Last night he was helping me relax so the fangs would go away,” Buffy said, desperately wishing they would drop the subject.
 
Willow noticed her discomfort. “Is he taking advantage of you? I know he used to do that stalker thing before but…”
 
“Willow, I’m the Slayer,” Buffy interrupted. “If I really don’t want him to kiss me, I can stop him, okay?”
 
Xander’s eyes widened. “What are you saying then? You want him to kiss you? Didn’t we learn our lesson with the last vampire boyfriend?”
 
Buffy stood up and faced Xander square on. “Xander, I do not want to discuss this right now. Spike helped me a lot last night, and he’s been helping me since I got back. He puts up with a ton of shit in order to help me, and it would be nice if you got off his back for once.”
 
Xander was stunned. “But Buffy, you’ve got to see how dangerous he is! I mean, you’ve been in his body for a day and you can see that the demon keeps taking over. If he ever gets the chip out…”
 
“Xander, you have no clue what you are talking about,” Buffy snapped. “Spike is not only in control of the demon, but he goes through completely agonizing pain every time he tries to hurt someone, even in self defense. I’m here to tell you – think about the worst migraine you’ve ever had and quadruple it. That’s what Spike feels every time he hits someone.”
 
“Well, that’s good!” said Xander. “He can’t be allowed to go around hurting people.”
 
“Yeah, but it’s excessive. Trust me,” Buffy said. She wanted to say more, about how lonely he was, about what an outcast he had become on her behalf. However, her shame at her own part in their treatment of him tied her tongue and she finally finished with, “Look, he’s not a danger, and I really don’t need a baby sitter. Let’s just get this body swap sorted out, alright?”
 
Willow realized that Buffy was getting upset. “Ok, Buffy. Sorry we’re all over you. We just care about you, that’s all.”
 
“I know,” Buffy sighed. And that’s why I put up with it. She got up and rinsed the coffee cup out, then went into the living room. She chose an armchair far from the window and turned on the TV to wait until Spike returned.
 
*************************
 
Alright, now I can see why people live in this fucked up state, Spike thought as he made his way to the Magic Box. The air was a pleasant temperature, with a light breeze and sunshine dappling the trees. He felt like he could right twelve more volumes of bad poetry from this one walk in the sun. Be glad to get my body back, but man it is nice to have this vacation. He missed very little about being human, but the sunlight thing – that was something he deeply regretted. Should have taken the Gem of Amara and ran, instead of sticking around so the Slayer could take it away from me. I could have been on the bloody Riviera this whole time but no, had to do the ‘Slayer of Slayers’ thing. Wanker. With a sigh at his own past mistakes he turned the corner to head to the Magic Box.
 
“Hey Buffy! Wait up!” A voice called. He turned to see Tara making her way down the sidewalk. “How are you? Is Dawn still coming over Friday night?”
 
Spike paused outside the door of the Magic Box and held up his hands. “Hang on a minute, Glinda. Something very weird has happened, and I don’t want you to get too far before I explain.”
 
Tara looked confused. Only Spike ever called her Glinda. “Buffy? Are you alright?”
 
“Not Buffy. I’m Spike, in Buffy’s body,” Spike explained. “Someone did some sort of body swap on us. We don’t really know who or how, which is why I am here at the store picking up some books so we can try to sort this out.”
 
Tara’s mouth dropped in astonishment. “Oh my goodness! Are you both okay?”
 
“Yeah. Weirded out, and had some confusion and misunderstandings with Dawn and the others, but no permanent damage as yet,” Spike said, turning to go into the store.
 
In their basement lair, Andrew and Jonathan were arguing about some arcane Star Wars lore when Warren noticed Buffy show up on the video feed from the shop. “Shut up, you losers! She just walked in.” The others crowded around as Warren turned up the volume.
 
“I just hope I don’t run into anyone I’m supposed to know,” Spike was saying. “It would be rather awkward if someone comes up and says ‘I’m your long lost cousin Betty’ and I have no clue who they are.”
 
“So I guess you don’t remember that Dawn is coming over on Friday,” Tara said.
 
“I guess I do now,” Spike replied. “Anything else Buffy should be remembering?”
 
“It worked,” Warren breathed. The three of them stared at each other for a moment, then broke into whoops and cheers. “It actually fucking worked!”
 
“This is so awesome!” Andrew said gleefully.
 
“So where do we start?” Jonathan asked. The Magic Box camera was forgotten as the Trio moved over to their workbench to plan a series of heists designed to get them everything their greedy hearts desired.
 
Unaware of the impression he had given the Trio, Spike greeted Anya. “Willow said you have some books for us?”
 
“Got them right here, Buff… I mean Spike,” Anya said, reaching under the counter. “Maybe we should call you both Spuffy to keep it simple.”
 
“Uh, yeah, don’t think so,” Spike said. He took the books and perused the titles. “Hope these help.”
 
Tara hesitated for a moment, then she said, “Do… do you think I could help?”
 
“We need all the assistance we can get,” Spike said. “Can you work with Red?”
 
“I’ll try,” Tara said. “Has she… this isn’t her doing, is it?”
 
Spike shook his head. “She says she’s been staying off the magic.”
 
“And last night I did the disinvite spell to keep Spike out so she wouldn’t have to,” Anya piped up helpfully.
 
Spike stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Can you tell me exactly why you decided to put a disinvite spell on Buffy’s house? I mean, you didn’t know I wasn’t Buffy. What gave you lot the right to decide who could come into what you presumed was my house?”
 
Anya was taken aback. “Willow and Xander thought you, or rather Buffy, was having some sort of crisis or something. They feel like it’s their duty as Buffy’s friends to make sure she doesn’t do something she’ll regret.”
 
“What do you think, though?” Spike asked her pointedly.
 
Anya shrugged. “I don’t have as much experience with what human friendships are supposed to be like. I mean, Buffy has been pretty depressed since she got back from Heaven, but I don’t think she’s crazy or anything, so I don’t see why we have to spend so much time worrying about her.”
 
“You know, if you think that then maybe you could get the others to understand that,” Spike said in an annoyed tone. “Red and Harris seem to spend all their free time trying to run Buffy’s life. It’s sucking the spirit out of her. You’ve got to see that.”
 
Tara was nodding. “Willow may not be doing it with magic anymore, but she still feels like she still has to fix Buffy somehow.”
 
“Well she did drag Buffy out of Heaven,” Anya said. “It is really her fault.”
 
“Look, Buffy can’t get back on her feet if you lot are yanking the rug out from under her constantly,” Spike said. “I need you two to try to get through to Red and Harris. Buffy’s just about given up fighting them, and they won’t listen to me, no matter what body I’m in. They’re going to keep beating her down, with the best of intentions, until she just gives up entirely.”
 
“I’ll do what I can,” said Anya. “Xander is pretty thickheaded about Buffy though.”
 
“Just… just do your best, okay?” Spike asked. He picked up the bag full of books that Anya had gathered and turned to Tara. “You coming, Glinda?”
 
“Just a second,” Turning to Anya Tara said. “Anya can I have some bloodroot? It’s part of my healing spell first aid kit.”
 
“Coming right up,” Anya said. She rang up the sale and handed the bag to Tara.
 
“We’ll see you later, Anya,” Spike said, leading the way out.
 
“Hope you get your body back soon,” Anya said with her usual cheerful forthrightness. Spike shook his head in bemusement as he and Tara left the store.
 
“Demon girl is a piece of work, but at least she doesn’t bullshit you,” Spike said as he and Tara made their way back to Buffy’s.
 
“She’s definitely unique,” Tara said. They walked on in silence for a few minutes. “How does it feel being in Buffy’s body?” she asked curiously.
 
“It’s got its ups and downs,” Spike answered. “Nice to feel the sun again. And I totally forgot how good food tastes with human taste buds. Gonna be hard to go back to pig’s blood after pizza and waffles, let me tell you.”
 
“Any downsides?” Tara wondered.
 
“Other than the Scoobie problem?” Spike said ruefully. “I don’t know how you ladies can sort through all those clothes and beauty products every day.”
 
Tara smiled. “We have a lot of practice.”
 
“Yeah, well I’ve been wearing my uniform for about 20 years now, and I bloody well don’t see the need to have a different outfit for every hour.”
 
“It sounds really funny to hear your mode of speech in Buffy’s voice,” Tara observed.
 
“Damn near killed myself trying to suppress that. Had to pretend to be Buffy for Dawn’s teacher conference,” he explained.
 
“Glad you were there for them,” Tara said.
 
“Bit can be a pill sometimes, but she needs someone there for her,” Spike said.
 
“I do miss her,” Tara admitted. “That’s why I invited her to spend the night on Friday.”
 
“Well, we’ll remind the real Buffy when we get to the house,” Spike said. They walked the last couple blocks in silence, lost in their own thoughts. 

TBC

*******************************
Chapter 9
*******************************
 
Buffy didn’t have words to express her relief when Spike returned. Willow and Xander had tried to draw her into further conversation, but she had tuned them out, fearful of losing her temper with them completely. She helped herself to another mug of blood and sipped it in front of the TV, fighting to keep the demon at bay. When she heard her own voice at the front door saying, “I’m back with supplies and reinforcements!” she went to greet Spike, skirting sunbeams as she did.
 
“Tara!” Buffy said with surprise. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
 
“I ran into Spike at the Magic Box and he explained your predicament. Anything I can do to help?” Tara said.
 
Willow came in from the kitchen. “Tara, hey,” she said, looking as awkward as she felt. “It… it’s good to see you.”
 
“Hi Willow,” she said quietly. “I’m just here to help with the research.”
 
“Oh. Okay,” Willow said, her face falling a little. After another moment of awkward silence she turned to Spike and said, “Did you get the books?”
 
“Yeah, they’re right here,” Spike said, opening the bag. “Guess we should get started.”
 
They moved to the dining table to spread out the books and Willow’s laptop. Willow restrained herself from magically enhancing the internet with an effort, mindful of Tara’s occasional glances from the other side of the table. Xander sat next to Willow, alternating between reading and frowning in the general direction of Buffy and Spike, as if he couldn’t quite figure out who to disapprove of – the body or the mind that was trapped in Buffy’s body. Tara was torn. She wanted to encourage Willow’s progress, but she was still hurt and wary after Willow had altered her memories. She buried herself in the book, occasionally looking up at the woman she still cared for very much, but then looking away when their eyes met.
 
Buffy and Spike sat beside one another, studying the texts. There were devices like the one Faith had used, there were demons that could take over your personality, but there were precious few spells that could make two people switch bodies. Buffy realized that she was very aware of the scent of the shampoo Spike had used, the musty smell of the books, people’s deodorant choices – it was like someone had cranked up her sense of smell to eleven. “This vampire smelling thing is really bizarre,” she commented to Spike.
 
“Can be awfully helpful though,” Spike said. “Allows you to track your prey.”
 
“Great. I can be a big bloodhound in an out of date leather coat,” she said wryly.
 
“Hey, don’t you dare insult the old girl,” he admonished with a mock frown. “I’ve had her since before you were born, so show some respect.”
 
Tara smiled at their banter, but Willow and Xander exchanged a concerned glance. Tara caught the look of should we worry? passing between them and felt that she had to speak up. “It’s good that the two of you are keeping your spirits up. You seem to be working well together despite the difficulties.”
 
Spike shrugged, “We tend to fight well together. Seems like we need to join forces against whatever enemy did this to us.”
 
“Besides,” said Buffy. “Now we know how the other half lives. It’s a real eye opener.” Willow looked like she was about to say something, but held her tongue when she saw Tara’s eyes on her.
 
Xander, not noticing Tara’s looks, said half jokingly, “So, what, you want to be all evil now that you’ve seen how much fun it is?”
 
Buffy was about to shrug and avoid the conflict as usual. But then she saw a brief frown cross her own face, registering Spike’s annoyance at this latest entry in the constant stream of flack from Xander. Steeling herself for the response she said, “Actually, yesterday was one of the best days I had since I got back, before I went out and got the crap kicked out of me.”
 
“What do you mean?” asked Willow, clearly puzzled.
 
Buffy went on, unable to stop the flood once the gates were opened. “I had a whole day to myself. In peace and quiet. No one bursting into my house with a problem. No teenager whining about how tough her life is. No one ordering me around or making me feel guilty because I’m not happy enough. I read, watched TV, drank whiskey and relaxed. If it wasn’t for the problem of having to eat people or drink that disgusting pig’s blood to live, not to mention the problem of my head exploding when I defend myself, I’d say the life of a vampire is a hell of a lot better than my life.”
 
“What are you saying?” Xander said. “You’d rather be a soulless, blood sucking demon than the Slayer? Just so you can watch TV all day?”
 
“Beats being a thickheaded git like yourself,” Spike mumbled. He was about an inch away from leaping across the table to belt Xander himself, but held back. Buffy was holding her own against the whelp and it was a lovely thing to see. Now there’s my Slayer. Knew she was buried in there somewhere.
 
Xander opened his mouth to fire off an angry retort, but Tara interrupted saying, “Xander, not helpful, alright?” He looked at Tara in surprise. Tara’s stutter returned as she noticed Willow and Xander’s eyes on her, but she held firm and said, “B.. Buffy and Spike need your research help, b.. but now is not the t… time for the anti-vampire c.. campaign.” Tara almost never dived in when there was a confrontation between Xander and Spike, and the shock of her doing so stunned him into silence. Xander cast dark looks at both Buffy and Spike, clearly trying to find some cutting comment. In the end, the weight of three sets of eyes glaring at him was too much, and he angrily grabbed the book again and started flipping through the pages. Buffy and Spike both shot grateful looks at Tara as they got back to work as well.
 
The day passed at a snail’s pace. The tension in the group was only broken when Dawn came home. “Hey guys, what’s going on?” she asked as she entered the dining room. Spike noticed that she seemed a bit subdued. Good. Maybe my little tirade sunk in earlier.
 
“We’re trying to figure out how our minds got misplaced,” Buffy said. Remembering what Spike had told her the night before she said, “Do you have any homework?”
 
Dawn replied, “French, Algebra, and History.”
 
“Do you want help with anything? I could use a break from the research,” Buffy said, chewing her lip nervously. She wanted to do better by her sister, but at the same time didn’t want to unleash another wave of bitchiness in her direction.
 
Dawn started to roll her eyes, but caught Spike’s warning glance. Buffy’s eyes could be extremely menacing when they wanted to be. Swallowing she said, “Um, sure. In the kitchen maybe?”
 
“Sounds good,” Buffy said. She got up and followed Dawn, leaving the others to carry on with the research. Dawn sat down at the island, and Buffy got out a box of cookies from the cabinet. “Here, can’t work on an empty stomach.”
 
“Aren’t those Willow’s secret stash?” Dawn asked.
 
Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, but so what. My house, my cookies. Anyhow, let’s take a look at that French homework.” Buffy had studied Spanish in high school, but the strategies that had gotten her through worked well for French too. Buffy quizzed Dawn until she was reasonably certain that she would pass her test the next day, and then they started on the algebra. Dawn needed little help there, but Buffy hung around and listened to her sister chat about her day, sharing in the cookies and washing them down with a mug of blood. After an hour and a half the algebra was done as well.
 
“For History I just have to read. I think I’ll do that after dinner. What is dinner anyway?” Dawn asked.
 
Buffy shrugged. “For me, another mug of yummy pig’s blood,” she said, grimacing at the thought. “That stuff is truly nasty.”
 
“It’s gross just watching Spike drink it,” Dawn agreed. She looked down at her lap for a moment. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk last night.”
 
“It’s okay, Dawnie,” Buffy reassured her. “Yesterday was pretty tough for everyone.”
 
“I guess. But I’ll try to be less, um…”
 
“Bitchy?”
 
“Yeah,” Dawn said, blushing. After a few moments of awkward silence she said, “Hey, do you think the others would mind if I made dinner?”
 
Buffy kept a neutral face – some of Dawn’s cooking experiments were not to be believed. “Depends on what you make. And besides, with your arm messed up, how are you going to manage?”
 
Dawn got up and looked through the cabinets. “I could make pasta. I could add some extra veggies to the sauce and sort of do a marinara-primavera sort of thing.”
 
Why not? I don’t have to eat it. “That sounds like a great idea, Dawnie. You get started, and I’ll go see if anyone made any progress. Let me know when you need help.” Dawn happily, if awkwardly, started banging pots and pans around as Buffy went back to the dining room.
 
“Yes, I am bloody certain I didn’t see any Crinash demons,” Spike was saying to Willow.
 
“I just want to be sure, because they can suck out your essence…” she replied.
 
“And they are fucking nine feet tall!” Spike interrupted. “No way something like that sneaked by.”
 
“But you both said your memories were hazy,” Xander said. “Maybe you saw them and just don’t remember.”
 
“I guess that’s possible,” Buffy put in as she joined them. “But I really don’t remember anything even remotely like that.”
 
“I’m just about out of ideas then,” Willow said, pushing her laptop away and slumping in her chair. “It has to be either a demon or a spell, but all the spells I found seem to make you think you are someone else, not swap minds. And the demons who could do this would more likely take over your body than put you in another body.”
 
“Maybe we need to take a break,” Tara offered.
 
“Dawn’s cooking pasta for dinner,” Buffy informed them. “Why don’t we go chill until it’s done? We’re getting nowhere right now.” Buffy led the way into the living room and sat down on the couch, putting her feet up and leaning back. Spike sat down next to her, while Willow and Xander grabbed armchairs and Tara flopped cross-legged on the floor. Buffy turned on the news to fill the awkward silence, and they all listened with little interest until a particular story came on.
 
“A bizarre robbery took place at the Electronics Depot in the Sunnydale Mall this afternoon,” the announcer was saying. “The manager states that he arrived at the store to find a large number of high end computers missing. The only employee present, Jerry Renolds, age 38, was found wandering around in a state of confusion, unable to recall his name or any other details of his life. Mr. Renolds was taken to Sunnydale Memorial for observation.”
 
Buffy sat up immediately. “Did you guys hear that?”
 
“Yeah. Sounds like the attack of the world’s geekiest criminals,” Xander commented.
 
“No you lackbrain,” said Spike. “The clerk had amnesia. Couldn’t remember anything.”
 
“Not sure how relevant that is,” Willow said. “I mean, you guys have your memories intact, but they’re just switched around.”
 
“Yeah but we’re both real hazy on the particulars of that night,” Buffy said excitedly. She turned to Spike, “Could some demon or something have been trying to erase our memories, and instead switched our memories?”
 
“The kiss,” Spike said, revelation dawning on his borrowed face. “Everything went haywire after we kissed.”
 
“No surprise there,” Xander muttered.
 
“Xander, knock it off,” Tara said, once more surprising everyone. To Buffy and Spike she said, “I think you’re on to something. Maybe the physical connection somehow warped the effect of whatever it was.”
 
“Maybe we need to be looking more closely at memory spells, specifically at side effects,” Spike reasoned. “Lord knows that unexpected things can happen when you start messing with memories.” He looked pointedly at Willow for a moment, as the witch suddenly found a need to avoid eye contact with everyone.
 
“Um, I’ll go see if Dawn needs any help,” Willow said, ducking out into the kitchen. The others continued to watch the news in tense silence.
 
“Dinner is served!” yelled Dawn from the kitchen, and everyone gave a sigh of relief. Buffy and Spike went to help bring food from the kitchen while the others cleared the dining table of books and papers and brought out plates and silverware. Tara, Willow, and Xander moved around each other awkwardly, the silence thick between them. Xander was about to ask Tara about her defense of Spike when the others came in bearing  a big pot of pasta and a slightly scorched but otherwise appealing looking pot of spaghetti sauce. They dug in, praising Dawn for her efforts. Buffy ate a plate of it to be polite, while discretely drinking blood to wash it down. She was pleased to find that Dawn had put in enough extra onions to wash out the foulness of the pig’s blood somewhat.
 
Spike ate with relish, clearly enjoying himself. “Nibblet, you have outdone yourself,” he said with a sigh of contentment.
 
“Enjoy it while you can,” Buffy said. “You’ll be back to pig blood and darkness before you know it.”
 
“I suppose,” he said around another mouthful. “But I still don’t mind having my taste buds reminded about the joy of human food. I plan to savor every moment.”
 
“Thanks, Buf… I mean Spike,” said Dawn, smiling shyly at Buffy and Spike. Spike took that as another good sign that the rift was mending between the sisters, and hoped that the upward swing would continue.
 
Tara chatted with Dawn about movie possibilities for their get together on Friday, while Buffy and Spike listened in and offered their ideas. Willow and Xander, on the other hand, ate in silence. Willow knew that Tara had every right to be angry with her. But it seemed so unlike her to be defending Spike and siding with him against her. She was deeply hurt that Tara seemed much more concerned about Spike and Buffy’s problem than her. She hadn’t even asked about the magic. Willow’s struggle not to use magic was the most painful thing she had ever had to endure – Tara had to know that. But here Tara was, laughing and chatting with Dawn and Buffy and Spike, and paying her no mind whatsoever.
 
Xander sat next to her, stabbing his pasta with ill concealed irritation. Knowing that it was Spike trapped in Buffy’s body made it easier to bear all the ill temper of the day before. But here were Buffy and Tara defending Spike. Like he was somehow supposed to feel sorry for Spike because he got a headache every time he tried to eat someone. He knew that Buffy hadn’t been herself since she returned from the grave. But to have her apparently enjoy being a vampire was alarming, and he couldn’t understand why Tara and Dawn weren’t as freaked out as he was. Hello? Am I the only person who sees how cosmically bad this is?  He also couldn’t understand why no one was addressing the clearly growing relationship between the Slayer and the vampire. Memories of Ms. Calendar, of Giles being tortured, and of being threatened by Spike raced around his head. We already did the ‘date part of the Scourge of Europe’ thing. Do we really need to repeat this? Xander resolved that something had to be done to prevent this, once everyone was back where they belonged.
 
*********************************
 
After dinner and sunset the gang made their way to the Magic Box, to pursue the idea of memory spells gone awry. Anya was counting the till happily when they came in. “Hi guys! Those new love charms sold like hotcakes today!”
 
“Glad to hear it, demon girl,” Spike said. “Thanks for loaning us the books.”
 
“Did you figure out what did this?” Anya asked.
 
“No,” said Buffy. “But we’ve got some new ideas to pursue.”
 
“Specifically, we want to see if there are any memory altering spells or such things that could have this as a side effect,” Spike added.
 
Looking sternly at Willow, Anya said, “You weren’t doing magic again, were you?”
 
“No!” cried Willow defensively. “Really, guys, I haven’t used magic since the other night.”
 
“It’s alright, Willow,” Buffy said. “Let’s just get to work, okay?”
 
After an hour with little progress, Buffy stood up. “I need to go patrol. Spike, do you want to come? Make the demons think the Slayer’s still around?”
 
“Sounds good,” Spike said, more than happy to get away from the Scoobies. If Xander shot him one more dirty look the whelp was going to find himself sans teeth.
 
“We’ll take Dawn home when we’re finished here,” Willow offered.
 
“Okay. Dawn? Remember to read your history, you hear?” said Buffy.
 
“I will. Be careful,” Dawn answered.
 
The two blonds left the store, both of them breathing a sigh of relief. “Said it before, but I’ll say it again,” Spike began. “How the bloody hell have you managed to be friends with these people for so long without ripping them limb from limb? I’ve dusted minions for less shit than they pull.”
 
“Yes, but I can’t exactly dust them,” Buffy said. “They didn’t used to be this bad. I think between my… death and Giles’ being gone, the whole group is just kind of lost. Willow went from being a pretty quiet nerdy type to being a powerful witch and a semi-leader. I guess the power went to her head.”
 
“Got that right,” Spike agreed. “You should have seen her this summer. Pushing her thoughts into our minds, orchestrating things her way. Giles was too broken up to notice, Xander agrees with her on everything, Tara’s too quiet to say anything – everyone just let her run things.”
 
“Including you?” Buffy wondered.
 
Spike sighed. “You’ve seen the way they think about me. I’m hired muscle, nothing more.”
 
“I don’t think of you that way,” Buffy said softly. “Not anymore.”
 
Spike stopped and looked at her searchingly. “How do you see me then?” he asked, hardly daring to breathe.
 
Buffy considered, then answered slowly, “As a friend. Maybe more than a friend, but I don’t know yet. But can we start with friends?” Her eyes were pleading with him, begging him for understanding.
 
Spike’s heart beat faster, and he allowed himself the tiniest bit of hope. Biggest crumb you’ve given me so far, Slayer. “I think friends will do very nicely,” he said. Then he noticed a troop of four vampires making their way toward them. “Although first, perhaps we should be fighting partners, don’t you think?”
 
“Works for me,” Buffy said with a smile. Then they pulled out their stakes and got to work.
 

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and his ilk own all the characters and recognizable dialog and all that.

Thanks so much to all my readers and reviewers! Here is a little holiday gift for you, whatever winter holiday you celebrate!


**********************
Chapter 10
*********************
 
The rest of patrol was lively, and Buffy was glad for the activity. Hours of research made her twitchy even when there wasn’t a demon inside her. With the demon, she found the fight exhilarating, and she vamped out and roared, enjoying the battle. The two of them were a perfectly matched team, tossing each other stakes, ducking and weaving in concert, and terrifying their opponents. They staked the last two fledges in stereo, sending matching plumes of dust scattering through the wind. “That was fun,” Buffy commented, pocketing the stake.
 
Spike grinned. “That it was. Although I’m not used to getting sweaty and breathing hard. Well, at least not having to breathe hard.”
 
“I was actually thinking it was kind of fun not to have to breathe, around the time that one guy had his hands around my neck,” Buffy remarked.
 
“I’m not used to getting so thirsty either,” Spike said. “Want to call it a night?”
 
Buffy suddenly realized she really didn’t want to go home and face the Scoobie Inquisition. “You want to go get a drink at the Bronze before we go home?” she suggested.
 
Spike’s eyes widened in surprise. “You sure about that?” He was amazed that she would risk Scoobie disapproval by prolonging their time together.
 
“I’m sure. Besides, I think I’d like to enjoy this vampire constitution for a while longer.” The two of them moved off companionably toward the Bronze.
 
When they got there, Spike was about to go order drinks when Buffy stopped him. “Do you have your, I mean my ID with you? They always card me.”
 
Spike checked his pockets. “Um, no. Forgot that detail.” He fished a twenty out of his pockets. “I did get some cash from the crypt earlier though. You get the drinks, I’ll find us a table.”
 
“I take it you don’t get carded,” Buffy said with a smirk.
 
“Given that I died before these inane drinking laws were invented, I can definitely say that I have never been carded,” Spike said, smirking back.
 
Buffy turned toward the bar while Spike found a small table in a corner. Buffy ordered two pints of beer and joined him. “Now remember, you’re in my body,” she warned. “I don’t have nearly the alcohol tolerance you do.”
 
“Don’t worry about me, Slayer,” Spike said, toasting her. “I promise not to embarrass you.” He took a sip of beer, reveling in the taste. He half closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. Oh yeah. Better than I remembered.
 
“You’re having another orgasmic taste experience, aren’t you?” Buffy said with amusement.
 
“Damn straight,” Spike replied, taking a good long draught. Stifling a belch he said, “So tell me, what happened to you last night. You said you got beat up, but I didn’t get the whole tale.”
 
Buffy launched into the description of the tall demon and his human henchmen. “I didn’t think anything of it until they swung at me and I tried to kick them.”
 
Spike shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to put up with that. That’s Grev’lan. I’ve been soaking him in poker for years. A couple weeks ago he soaked me good and I still owe him. He tends to hold a grudge, if you hadn’t noticed.”
 
“I noticed,” Buffy said, finishing her beer with a long swallow. She raised the glass questioningly to Spike, who nodded as he finished the last of his pint. She went to get more as Spike contemplated the beginnings of a buzz. One beer? The Slayer gets a buzz on from one beer? Good lord. Buffy returned and handed him the glass, then settled down to continue her tale. She told him all about her sojourn at Willy’s and the fight that had broken out there. “So once Willy kicked me out I decided to go to the Magic Box, and you know the rest,” she concluded after a while.
 
“Yeah, shit like that happens all the time,” Spike said. “Itsh… It’s part of the territory.”
 
Buffy laughed. “You’re getting drunk. I told you to slow down.” Her glass was still nearly half full, but Spike’s was getting very close to empty.
 
“What?” Spike said indignantly. “I am not drunk.” He realized that he needed to go to the restroom and stood up. Suddenly the room seemed to tilt just a bit. “If you will excuse me, I need to visit the facilities,” attempting to sound as proper and British as was possible in his current form. Buffy had to suppress a giggle as she watched Spike endeavor to cross the room without weaving.
 
Spike reached the bathrooms and had his hand on the door when it opened and a large, burly football player from Sunnydale High came out. “Hey, looking for someone?” he said suggestively.
 
Shit, wrong door. I’ve been a man for a hundred years! How am I supposed to remember to walk into the ladies’ room? To the football player he said, “Sorry. You’re not my type.” He turned and marched with all the dignity he could muster into the ladies’ room. The bathroom was full of girls touching up makeup and gossiping, and Spike felt strangely self-conscious. Feel like a bleeding peeping Tom. He made his way into a stall without stumbling and used the facilities, only then finding out there was no toilet paper. Great. This is rather unpleasant. He managed to find a used tissue in the pocket of Buffy’s jeans, but he could see why girls were so particular about the state of bathrooms. He washed his hands and escaped back to the table, still slightly unsteady on his feet.
 
“I thought I was going to have to send in a search party,” Buffy commented.
 
“My god, what a circus in there,” Spike said, taking another swig of beer. “Like a flock of hens, all primping and chattering. And there was no bloody toilet paper either!”
 
“Now you know our pain,” Buffy laughed. Spike finished his second pint and raised the empty glass questioningly. Buffy smiled and soon came back with another round. They drank their beers in silence for a while, taking in the crowd around them.
 
“You know,” Spike said after a while. “After all thesh years of vamp taste buds, even thish godawful Yankee piss tashtes pretty fucking fantastic.” He was halfway through the third pint, and was starting to feel the effects.
 
Buffy laughed at him again. I haven’t laughed this many times in one night since before I died, she mused. Aloud she said, “You are totally wasted, my friend.”
 
“Your fault,” Spike said, attempting to point an accusing finger at her. “It’s your shtupid body that can’t h… hold itsh liquor.”
 
“I guess I haven’t had anything to drink at all since that night I got drunk at your place,” she said.
 
“No wonder. Out of practice, Shlayer,” Spike slurred.
 
“You downed those pints in like fifteen minutes. You need to pace yourself. Remember, I weigh about a hundred ten pounds soaking wet.”
 
“You should definitely eat more then,” Spike said solemnly, before bursting into a fit of giggles.
 
Buffy finished her beer and stood up. “Come on. Let’s get out of here while you can still walk.”
 
“Right. Good plan,” he said, belting back the last of the beer. He stood up and was a little astonished at how unsteady he felt. “This human lack of… tolerance ish highly annoying.”
 
Buffy put an arm around Spike’s shoulders to steady him. “Ok, Spikey, you’re cut off,” she said good-naturedly. She guided him out of the bar and into the cool night air.
 
Spike shook her arm off his shoulders. “I’m alright. I can bloody walk,” he stated, before boldly tripping over a curb.
 
Buffy laughed and caught him. “Sure you can. I think we’d better get you home.”
 
“Whose home?” Spike wondered.
 
Buffy’s grin failed. Shit. If we go home like this there’ll be questions and all the usual bullshit all freaking night. She wondered if Willow would be mad at her body or her mind for daring to go out drinking with Spike. “Maybe there would be fewer questions if we sobered up a bit first,” she suggested.
 
“We could hang out at the crypt for a while,” Spike said. Buffy agreed, and they made their way toward Restfield, with Buffy’s arm wrapped around Spike’s waist to steady him.
 
“Bloody embarrassing, this is,” Spike muttered after tripping over a tombstone. “William the Bloody, Shlayer of Slayers, wasted on three bloody beers. ‘S a crime.”
 
“Oh quit your whining, Mr. the Bloody,” Buffy said good-naturedly. They reached the tomb and made their way inside. Spike flopped into the armchair while Buffy shut the heavy stone door. Buffy took off the duster and draped it on a sarcophagus. “How’re you doing?”
 
Spike fixed her with a goofy grin. “Just ducky. You’re a cheap date, Slayer.”
 
“I guess I’ll have to play catch up,” she said. She spied a half empty bottle of whiskey that she had neglected during her stay at Spike’s, and took a huge swallow.
 
“Hey! Leave some for me,” Spike yelled.
 
“Uh-uh,” said Buffy, chugging more whiskey with a grin. “You’re cut off, remember?”
 
Spike got up and tried to snatch the bottle from her, but she held it over his head. He tried to jump for it despite his intoxicated state and missed, eliciting more laughter from Buffy. “How the hell…” he jumped again and missed. “Do you manage to slay anything…” jump, miss, “When you’re bloody three feet tall!”
 
“I’ll have you know I’m five foot two!” Buffy said indignantly. “Just for that, no whiskey for you.” With that she polished off the bottle.
 
“Hey!” shouted Spike. He tried to scale her body to get at the bottle, and succeeded only in knocking them both on the floor. Spike lay on top of her as they both laughed and panted. The laughter died away gently as they realized their position. Spike’s head cleared somewhat as he became aware of the contrast between their body temperatures, so much more evident from the human side. Spike looked down into his own blue eyes to the girl inside his skin. She was laughing, playful. Have I ever seen her that way? Ever? Hesitating, searching the face below him for permission, he slowly lowered his lips to hers.
 
Buffy paused just a moment before closing her eyes and returning the gentle kiss. With her eyes closed the weirdness of kissing her own face faded and all that was left was Spike’s amazing kissing technique. Regardless of whose lips were whose, the kissing was amazing, electric and sweet. The kiss went on and on, and Buffy realized that the body she inhabited was responding. As the bulge in her jeans reached painful proportions she broke off the kiss and gasped, “This… we can’t do this.”
 
Spike was panting and gasping as well, having nearly forgotten that he needed to breathe in his current form. He felt the erection beneath him, and moisture was flowing like a river between his legs as well. He knew she had a point. There was something incredibly, indescribably wrong about essentially having sex with yourself. Despite this incontrovertible fact he searched the face below him, stroked it tenderly and said, “Tune out the others for a minute. Don’t worry about what they will say, or think, or do. Tell me what Buffy wants.”
 
She had no idea her own voice could sound so low and sultry, and it aroused her even further, if that were possible. What do I want? Her brain whirled with imagined voices, of the Scoobies, her Watcher, her dead mother. She looked into her own green eyes and saw admiration, love, and frank desire. Have I ever looked like that at anyone? Summoning her courage, she answered, “I don’t want to use you. I don’t know exactly how I feel about you. But I need…” Words failed her and she reached up to kiss him again.
 
Spike moaned softly at the kiss and the permission it implied. He buried his hands in her hair as he plundered her mouth with his questing tongue. When he broke it off to breathe he said, “Bed… downstairs… please.”
 
Buffy nodded. Spike climbed off her and offered her a hand up. They practically flew down the steps to the lower level. They kissed again, shedding clothes all the while. Spike broke away long enough to light a couple of candles while Buffy wrestled with her boots. Finally they faced each other, naked, breathing hard, suddenly a bit shy. Buffy was aware of her own jutting erection, and wondered how it was that she was so turned on by the sight of… herself. Then like a bolt of lightning the thought hit her. It’s not just the body. It’s him. Heturns me on. His words and the way he treats me. The way he loves me. Stunned by the realization she moved close and kissed him again.
 
Spike grabbed her ass and pulled her close, and in a few minutes they had tumbled onto the bed. Spike knew his own body, and caressed and pulled until Buffy was practically begging for release. She ground into the body beneath her, knowing just where to apply the friction to drive Spike to the edge as well. “Take me, Slayer,” he moaned. “Want to know what it feels like from your side.”
 
Buffy felt like she was going to explode. Fuck. Is this what blue balls is like? Her body was screaming for satisfaction. She fumbled a bit, but Spike reached down and helped guide her. She sank slowly in, closing her eyes to both alleviate the weirdness and concentrate on the sensation. It seemed like all her most sensitive nerve endings were enveloped in a perfect radiant heat. The feeling of being inside, truly connected at the most primal physical level was so overwhelming that she had to stop moving to regain control.
 
Spike had closed his eyes as well. He felt filled, stretched, and his eyes rolled when Buffy touched a bundle of nerves deep inside him. “Oh God, Buffy. Feels so good,” he breathed. He couldn’t quite figure out how to clench those muscles, the ones that had made him scream the other night, but the cock felt like such a tight fit inside his borrowed quim that he figured it was good enough.
 
Buffy began to move, tentatively at first, then falling into a rhythm. Almost like being a virgin again, she thought. This wasn’t the sexual acrobatics of their previous encounter, but every touch was so different and new that it excited her just as much. She groaned into a kiss as she reveled in the heat of her own body.
 
Spike grabbed the hips of the body thrusting into him, pulling Buffy closer and deeper. He felt the orgasm begin deep inside, where the tip of his own cock was slamming deliciously into him. Unable to control himself he screamed, “Buffy!” and convulsed, shaking and writhing. The feeling of the inner muscles rippling brought Buffy over the edge as well. “Spike, God, Spike!” Buffy cried, quivering all over as she spilled inside him.
 
They lay there a long moment, both shuddering and gasping, their minds in a whirl. Finally Spike said, “Buffy? Can’t breathe, pet.”
 
“Sorry,” she said, rolling off of Spike. “Easy to forget, isn’t it?” She lapsed back into silence, laying on her side, staring into her own green eyes.
 
Spike broke the silence first. “Interesting experience, that,” he mused.
 
“You can say that again,” Buffy agreed. After a few more moments of biting her lip and wrestling with her thoughts she said, “I’m sorry, Spike.”
 
“Sorry?” Spike said, confused. “What for?”
 
“For how I treated you in the past. I had no right to be such a bitch,” Buffy said, not meeting his eyes entirely.
 
“Slayer, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. I know my place,” Spike replied, stroking her face, trying to get her to look at him.
 
“I mean, I dump all my troubles on you, kiss you and… and other stuff,” she said, going on as if she hadn’t heard him. She was embarrassed but she had to get it all in the open. “Meanwhile my friends are rude to you, I’m rude to you, half the demons in town hate you. Why do you even stay? I’m not worth the bother.”
 
Spike propped himself up on his elbow and shushed her. “Don’t you ever say that. I’ve never known anyone like you – woman or Slayer. You’re the only person in all my years that even comes close to making me wish I was human again.” Buffy met his eyes then. Even though Buffy was looking into her own face, the tone of voice and the look in her eyes conveyed the feeling behind his words.
 
Buffy wrinkled her brow in confusion. “I’m… not sure I follow that last part. I thought you liked being a vampire.”
 
Spike gently stroked her face as he spoke. “It’s like this,” he explained. “I was a complete wanker as a human. Weak, pathetic – I was an absolute nobody. To go from that to having supernatural strength, plus having all that Victorian reticence removed at a stroke? Best thing that ever happened to me. Never wanted to be a real boy again.”
 
“But why would you want to be one now?” Buffy wondered. “I figured after a few days of being me you’d be screaming to get back into your vampire suit.”
 
Spike looked away. “Because if I was a human I might have half a chance with you,” he mumbled. He looked back at her with eyes full of pain. “I know I’ve got no bloody hope, really. I’ve got no soul, nothing in particular to recommend me. When we were… together, that first time, I knew you were just using me. And yeah, it pissed me off, because I love you, God help me. But if the alternative to being used by you is to have nothing of you, I’ll take what I can get.”
 
Buffy was stunned. He loves me. If what he just said is true, there is no other word for it. Oh God, what does this mean? “Spike… I don’t… I don’t know what to say,” she stammered out.
 
Spike sighed and lay down again. “It’s okay, Slayer,” he began.
 
“No it’s not!” Buffy cried. She got up and paced as she spoke, heedless of her nakedness. “It’s not okay! Nothing is okay!”
 
“Easy, love,” he said, sitting up, trying to reach for her.
 
“You have to live with this,” she said, indicating his body. “No sunlight, pig’s blood for every meal, can’t defend yourself! And you have to do it alone! How do you do this alone?” She was almost crying at this point. It was as if all his words, all his actions since before she had died were all crowding into her brain at once screaming to be recognized for what they were: signs of his deep, fierce love for her.
 
“Told you, don’t mind being a vampire. The little hardships are worth it in exchange for all the benefits,” Spike said, trying to soothe her.
 
“I’ve got Dawn and the others and I can barely deal with it all!” Buffy went on, wrapping her arms around herself. “But you have no one…”
 
“I have you.” Spike’s quiet statement cut through Buffy’s near hysteria and she stopped to stare at him. He got up and came over to her, grasping her shoulders and looking up into his own blue eyes. “Whether you’re shagging me or punching me, I have you. As long as I can be around you, fighting, helping, whatever you’ll take from me, then I’m not alone.”
 
Tears started rolling down Buffy’s face at that point. “I feel so dead inside, Spike,” she said in a soft, quavering voice. “You’ve been dead for so long and you’ve got so much life in you, but I feel like I left it all behind.”
 
Spike’s heart broke for her, but he cupped her face and spoke to her with an intensity she couldn’t look away from. “You’re not dead, Buffy. Well, not anymore,” he said with a crooked smile. “You’ve gone through something I can’t even imagine. I don’t know if I went anywhere when I died – don’t remember. I’m pretty sure of where I’m going when I die again, and I don’t think I’m going to enjoy it. But you’ve lost so much, and yet you’re still standing. You’re shaky, and you could use some help, but you’re still here. You’re not curled up catatonic in a corner, and you haven’t flipped out and killed anyone, and you haven’t let any baddies get their one good day. You’re an incredible woman, Buffy Summers.”
 
His words sank deep into her brain like a soothing balm. The concern, admiration, and genuine affection in his words touched her deeply. She took a deep, unneeded breath and made an effort to get under control. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s going to happen. When all this gets sorted out, I mean,” she stammered, looking off over Spike’s shoulder. “But I can’t… I won’t go back to the way it was. You… I understand you, now, better. I can’t treat you like a thing anymore. I promise you, I won’t.” Her voice broke as she wrestled with the shame and the fear and the constant surge of emotions.
 
“Shh, Slayer,” Spike said. He pulled her down to sit next to him on the bed and put his arms around her. “All I need from you is to let me help you. Let me be on your side. Anything else is icing on the cake.”
 
“Thank you,” she whispered. They stayed where they were for a long time, comforted by each other’s presence.

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon. Just playin' with them.

Thanks for your patience! The holidays intervened and it took me a while to get back to this. Hope my readers are still tuned in!


**********************
Chapter 11
***********************
 
It was almost two in the morning when Spike and Buffy finally returned to Revello Drive. Spike had held her and soothed her until she was nearly dozing. They eventually got up and got dressed in a silence that came from new understanding. They had maintained their silence during the walk back, each lost in a sea of new emotions.
 
What does this mean? Buffy wondered as they walked. Is this real? Is this just some side effect of whatever happened to us? Where is this going to go when we get our bodies back? She found herself dreading the return to her life. Everything was so much simpler when she was with Spike, or being Spike in this case. She found herself fishing one of Spike’s cigarettes out and lighting it.
 
“Picking up my bad habits, are you?” Spike commented.
 
“Might as well,” Buffy said with a shrug. “I mean, your body gets all jumpy without enough nicotine, and it’s not like it’s going to give you lung cancer or anything.”
 
“True enough,” he added. He hesitated, then said, “Slayer?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
Spike took a deep breath. “You really need to stand up to your mates, you know.”
 
Buffy took a deep drag on the cigarette and sighed. “I’m not sure I remember how,” she said ruefully.
 
“I’m not saying throw them out of your life,” Spike explained. “I know you need them. But you’ve got to let them know that they can’t run your life for you.”
 
“They’re only trying to help,” Buffy said.
 
Spike kept his temper with an effort. “Then let them bloody help for God’s sake!” he said forcefully. “Let them pay rent, or pitch in around the house, or help out at the Magic Box so you don’t have to, or listen to you instead of dictating your every move. But they’re going to drive you round the bend if you keep letting them walk all over you.” They had reached the walkway to Buffy’s house and Buffy stopped, dropped the cigarette, and crushed it with her boot thoughtfully. She looked at her door, seeming lost and apprehensive. “Buffy.” She turned to face him. “I’ve got your back. You know I’ve always got your back. Tell me what you need, and you know I’ll do whatever it takes to give it to you.”
 
“I know,” she whispered. She bent down and kissed him gently. “Just… be patient with me, okay?”
 
“Always, pet,” he responded, kissing her in return. With a collective deep breath they turned to enter the house.
 
They found Willow dozing on the couch in front of a movie. They tried to move quietly so as not to wake her, but she sat up as they were hanging up their coats. “Oh, hey,” she said sleepily. “I just thought I’d wait up to see when you got in.”
 
Buffy found herself frowning with annoyance. “Why? You never waited up for me before.”
 
Willow sat up, a bit taken aback by the tone of voice. “I… I mean we just wondered if you’d be okay. Patrolling in the wrong bodies and all.”
 
“Patrol went just fine,” Buffy said shortly. “But we’re tired and we want to go to sleep. So can we save the interrogation for the morning?”
 
“Um, sure,” Willow said, startled by the brusque treatment. “I’ll…um… see you in the morning.” She walked up the stairs slowly, looking back when she got to the top.
 
“Red. Good night,” Spike said firmly. Willow finally took the hint and slipped into her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and turned to Spike. “I swear, I’m going to start climbing in the windows like I used to in high school.”
 
Spike yawned and said, “We’ll set them straight later. Right now I’m developing a headache and I’m exhausted.”
 
Buffy chuckled, “Well, it’s either the beginnings of a hangover or the beginnings of PMS.”
 
Spike’s eyes got very wide. “Oh no. I am not dealing with your monthlies. Didn’t sign up for that.”
 
“I guess we’ll have to get our bodies back in order sooner rather than later then,” Buffy teased. “Besides, it’s much more likely the beginnings of the hangover. Come upstairs. I’ll get you some painkillers and pajamas.”
 
“Sounds like a plan,” Spike replied. He followed her into her room and accepted a bottle of ibuprofen and a pair of red pajamas. He leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Good night, Slayer.”
 
“Good night, Spike,” she said tenderly. Spike turned to go, closing the door quietly behind him. Buffy undressed and got into bed. She found that she missed Spike’s presence at her side. I’ve got to get the others to lay off, she decided as she closed her eyes. Whether he’s just a friend or something more, I need him around. She let out a long sigh and turned over, drifting off into a sleep punctuated by troubled dreams.
 
Spike changed, took the painkillers, and used the toilet before heading down to the couch. Although he would have liked to share her bed, he understood her need to get back in control of her life before they pursued any sort of open relationship. Having the Scoobies find them waking up together at this junction was going to cause more problems than it solved. In the past he had resented being her dirty little secret, wishing she would at least acknowledge him as an ally in front of the others if nothing else. But now that he saw what she actually had to negotiate every day, he couldn’t bear to add to her burden. Her friends give her enough grief without you piling on, William, he told himself. Be her port in the storm if nothing else. He laid his aching head down on the pillow and fell asleep in minutes.
 
***************************
 
Buffy woke the next morning hungry. She realized that between the patrolling and the other nocturnal activities she hadn’t eaten in a while and the demon was growling inside her. She pulled on Spike’s jeans thinking, I really will have to get some Spike sized pajamas if this goes on much longer. She heard Dawn start the shower, but otherwise the house was fairly quiet. Willow must be exhausted from all her late night hovering, Buffy thought. Grateful for the rare moment of morning peace in her own house, she crept quietly downstairs.
 
Spike was sprawled out on the couch, mouth open and snoring lightly. Oh my God, do I really look like that when I sleep? Buffy wondered, completely mortified. Resolving to sleep with a bag over her head for the rest of her life, she made her way to the kitchen to heat up a mug of blood. She was practically salivating by the time the microwave beeped. She downed the mug quickly and heated up another. With the edge taken off her hunger she sipped this one more slowly. Ok, this stuff is starting to taste less than completely disgusting. We really have to figure out this body thing.
 
Dawn came into the kitchen at that point. ”Good morning,” she said.
 
“Morning,” Buffy replied. “Did you finish your History?”
 
“Yep,” Dawn said as she went for the orange juice. “World War I. We won. The end.”
 
“Ha, ha,” said Buffy, rolling her eyes. “Dawn? Would you mind getting the newspaper?” Normally Buffy took care of that task, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen in her current state.
 
“Right. Flammability issues. Be right back,” Dawn said, heading outside. She tossed the paper to Buffy and went about getting herself a bowl of cereal. Buffy opened the paper and started flipping through idly, sipping her blood while she did. Dawn wrinkled her nose at Buffy’s breakfast. “That’s still really gross.”
 
“What’s even grosser is that I think I’m getting used to it,” Buffy said with distaste. She was in the process of taking another sip when she saw a news article that had her sputtering and choking with surprise. “Holy crap! Another one!”
 
“What?” Dawn asked. “And ew? Blood on the counter?”
 
“Sorry,” Buffy said, grabbing a napkin. “But look at this article! A convenience store was robbed last night.”
 
“Oookayyy,” Dawn said, not seeing the point.
 
“It says that the clerk turned off the security camera some time after nine. When the owner came the next morning all the cash and lottery tickets were gone, and the clerk was sitting there with no idea who he was or what had happened!” Buffy exclaimed.
 
“You mean another case of amnesia?” Dawn said. ‘’
 
“Exactly,” Buffy said. She read the article again, looking for anything she might have missed. She put the paper down and chewed her lip while she thought. “It seems like it must be a human doing this. Most demons aren’t going to want computers and lottery tickets.”
 
“But what’s going on with the amnesia deal?” Dawn wondered.
 
“I don’t know,” Buffy said, shaking her head. She glanced at the wall clock and said, “You’d better be off to school. I don’t think Spike is going to be awake in time to drive you today.”
 
Dawn snickered. “What did you do to him last night?”
 
“He drank three beers really fast at the Bronze after patrol,” Buffy explained.
 
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Say no more. Anyhow, see you later.”
 
“Have a good day, Dawnie,” Buffy replied. Dawn grabbed her bag and scuttled out the door. Buffy finished her blood and rinsed out the mug. She returned to the paper, scanning for more unusual crimes. The house was quiet for once, and she was amazed at all the little things she could hear with Spike’s ears. She could hear the snoring from the living room, but also her body’s heartbeat, like a small, slightly distant drum. She found she could hear Willow’s heartbeat too if she really listened, with a slightly different cadence. She could hear the water dripping in the upstairs shower as if she were right next to it. The world just seems so… alive with these senses. She marveled once more at how much more alive she felt while inhabiting a corpse.
 
Spike was still asleep when she finished the paper, so she headed upstairs for a shower. I guess it has been a few days. Even if I don’t sweat at present. She impishly picked out the most fruity smelling shampoo of the selection for Spike’s curly locks. He’ll probably kill me for that, but it’s payback for making me have to be a fashion victim for this long. When she finished she found herself instinctively looking in the mirror to comb her hair, but was stymied by the lack of reflection. Ok, I guess I can see why he gels it so much. You know it will stay put. She made her way to the bedroom, found some fresh clothes, and went back downstairs.
 
Spike was still asleep, although now he had rolled over on his side and wasn’t snoring. Buffy left him alone and went to do the dishes. She was about to wonder when she should wake Spike up when the front door banged open. “Morning! I bring donutty goodness!”
 
Xander’s annoyingly exuberant greeting was answered by a groan from the living room. “Keep your goddamn voice down, you git. Some of us aren’t awake yet.” Spike pulled the pillow over his head.
 
Xander came into the kitchen. “I see Mr. Cranky is still in your body,” he said. “Usually everyone’s up by now.”
 
Buffy dried her hands and turned to lean against the counter. “Xander. Did it ever, ever occur to you to knock? To call first? To otherwise act as if this was not actually your house?”
 
Xander looked hurt and puzzled. “But Buff… we’re friends, right? Mi casa es su casa?”
 
Buffy folded her arms and sighed. “Yes. We’re friends. But that doesn’t mean I might not like some privacy in my own home. Or at least not feel like I need to be up at the crack of dawn just in case you want to come over.”
 
“What changed, Buffy?” Xander asked. “I mean, we used to be a team.”
 
“Xander, just because I don’t want a revolving door on my house doesn’t mean we’re not a team!” Buffy cried, exasperated. “Do I come walking into your apartment at all hours of the day and night without knocking?”
 
“No…” Xander admitted reluctantly.
 
“Then why is it so difficult for you to give me that common courtesy? I mean, you keep saying over and over that you’re my friend. I would think that friends would respect each other’s wishes from time to time,” Buffy said.
 
Xander had the decency to look ashamed for once. “I’m… I’m sorry, Buffy,” he mumbled. “I guess I do take the open door policy a bit far. I guess we just got used to it when you were… gone.”
 
“Well I’m back, okay?” Buffy snapped. “So from now on, we’re going to use that wonderful new invention known as the doorbell, got it?”
 
“Loud and clear,” Xander said in a subdued voice. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”
 
“Apology accepted,” Buffy said. She took a deep, unnecessary breath. Arguing with the Scoobies always exhausted her. “What brings you here this early anyways?” she asked, changing the subject.
 
“I just wanted to know if there was any news on how we can get you back in your body,” Xander said.
 
At that moment Spike came into the kitchen looking disheveled and bleary eyed. “Morning,” he mumbled. “Coffee?”
 
“I’ll make some,” Buffy offered. “There’s some donuts if you want one.”
 
“I think I’ll stick to toast this morning,” Spike said. “Stomach’s still a bit queasy from last night.”
 
“I’m not surprised,” Buffy laughed. “And you tell me to take care of your body.”
 
Xander looked puzzled. “What happened last night?”
 
Spike hesitated, but Buffy said, “We went for a drink at the Bronze after patrol. Someone drank too much.”
 
“Bollocks,” muttered Spike. “I drank a reasonable amount. Not my fault you’ve got no bloody head for liquor.”
 
“You got drunk together?” Xander said incredulously. “Does that sound like a good idea?”
 
“What?” Buffy said. “Do I dictate when you get to go out for a drink after work?” Despite his hung over state, Spike smiled a bit at the sight of Buffy getting her moxie back. He had no idea what had changed, but it was a fine thing to see. He just wished she would talk just a little quieter, given his pounding head.
 
“Yeah, but I don’t go out to drink with the Evil Dead,” Xander retorted.
 
Buffy slammed the can of coffee down on the counter and turned to grab Xander by the lapels. She was so angry that her eyes flashed yellow briefly, causing the color to drain from Xander’s face. “Shut. Up. Spike is on our side. He’s been fighting on our side for months now. You used him all summer to fight demons. He’s been helping me since I got back. Leave. Him. Alone. Understand?” Buffy glared at him, fighting to keep the demon at bay, but determined to get through to him.
 
“I get it!” Xander said, trying not to squeak. He was acutely aware of the demon flickering in the piercing blue eyes, and decided that testing the chip was not something he wanted to do right then.
 
“What’s going on?” Willow entered the kitchen to see Xander being released roughly by what she presumed was Spike. “Did you guys switch back?”
 
“No, I’m still in vampire mode,” Buffy said, turning her attention back to the coffee. “On the subject of the whole body swap thing though, take a look at the local news section of the paper. There’s been another robbery with that whole amnesia side effect.”
 
Willow pulled the paper over and read the story carefully. Xander cautiously sat down, reaching for a donut under the watchful stare of Spike, who sat across the counter rubbing his temples. Buffy handed Spike some orange juice and a couple of painkillers. “Here. This always helps me when I’m hung over,” she said.
 
“Thanks ever so,” Spike mumbled, downing the pills and juice. When he finished Buffy was handing him some toast, and again Spike thanked her, grateful for something to put in his upset stomach. “I think I can see now why you try to keep the drinking down to a minimum.”
 
“Drinking?” Willow asked, raising an eyebrow.
 
“None of your business,” Buffy said firmly, giving Xander a warning glare. “Let’s just concentrate on these amnesia burglars, shall we?”
 
“Did the paper say anything about whether this effect is permanent or not?” Spike asked in between sips of black coffee.
 
“No,” Buffy said, frowning. “Didn’t say much of anything. I really wish we could talk to the victims somehow.”
 
“We could just go ask them, I suppose,” Spike said. “Maybe we could somehow get in to see them. “
 
“I suppose someone could go poke around the hospital,” Willow said.
 
“Tara!” Buffy exclaimed. The others turned to her questioningly. “Tara can see auras. Maybe she can notice something, or use some of her magic to see if they’ve had a spell cast on them or something.”
 
Willow knew that using magic was probably not going to end well for her, but she was still a little hurt that they wouldn’t even ask her. “Um, yeah, I guess that would work,” she mumbled.
 
“I’ll call her. She and Spike could go over this afternoon,” Buffy said, heading for the phone.
 
“Wait, why him?” Xander asked. “I mean, wouldn’t you or Willow be better for the job?”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I can’t go during the day. Besides, Spike and I are the ones whose bodies are switched around. We need to be at the front of any investigation.” Buffy went back to dialing Tara’s number while the others ate breakfast in uneasy silence.
 
“Thanks. See you later,” Buffy was saying as she hung up the phone. “Tara will come by around two o’clock. Think you’ll be ready for action by then?” she asked Spike.
 
“What time is it now?” he asked.
 
“Ten.”
 
“Given sufficient coffee, I believe I can be ready by then,” Spike said.
 
“Good,” said Buffy. “What else do we know about these crimes? I doubt this is a demon doing this.”
 
“Why is that?” asked Xander.
 
“What do most demons want with computers and lottery tickets?” Buffy replied. “And there were no deaths or anything. It’s like…”
 
“Like someone trying to erase their tracks,” Spike finished. “They’re hitting places where security is a bit lax, somehow getting the workers to forget who they are and do what they want, and then leaving.”
 
“So they must have gotten the electronics guy to bring the stuff out to the loading dock or something,” Willow said. “I wonder if the mall has cameras there.”
 
“That’s a thought,” Buffy said, nodding. “Can you look into that Willow? If we could somehow figure out how to get a hold of security cameras that these guys didn’t think of, maybe we could see who they were.”
 
“I’ll get on it,” Willow said. “Xander? Up for a trip to the mall?”
 
“I think I just had a high school flashback,” Xander said. He stood up and said, “Your chariot awaits.” Willow got up to go get her things, and soon the two of them were out the door, with promises to come back the second they learned anything.
 
“Alone at last,” Buffy said with a huge sigh of relief.
 
“Doesn’t happen much around here does it?” Spike mused.
 
Buffy shook her head. “It’s like Grand Central Station all day.”
 
Spike took another sip of coffee and smiled at Buffy. “You stood up to the whelp, though. I know that’s hard for you. You’re making progress.”
 
“Well, let’s hope they don’t decide to stake me, or you, when all is said and done,” Buffy said. “Not convinced that anything has sunk in yet.” She poured them both a refill of coffee and sat down. “How’s the head?”
 
“Better,” he replied. “That Slayer healing thing must be kicking in.”
 
“It is one of the few benefits of being all chosen and stuff,” Buffy said. “And I guess there’s the job security thing. Especially in Sunnydale. Not like we run out of demons around here.”
 
“Plus you get on the job training,” Spike joined in. “Regular apocalypses. Meet interesting people and then kill them. There are worse gigs.”
 
“Pay sucks though,” Buffy said. She half laughed, then her face pulled into a frown and she added, “That’s becoming a bit of a problem, actually.”
 
Spike looked at her. “What do you have in terms of money, Slayer?”
 
“Almost nothing, actually,” Buffy admitted. “There was a bunch of insurance money, but that got eaten up with medical bills and keeping things going when I was gone. Giles kicked in some which got me over one bad patch, but now…” She shook her head. “Come the end of this month I’m going to have a lot of angry creditors and nothing to give them. I guess I’ll have to get a job.”
 
“I could help you, you know,” Spike said quietly.
 
“How?” Buffy asked, looking into his concerned eyes.
 
“I know you don’t want anything illegal. I get that,” he began. “But I’ve got some savings stashed away. Not much, but if it were invested properly it could probably help out with some of it.”
 
“I don’t want to take all your money,” Buffy said. “I’m sure you have things you need too.”
 
Spike shrugged. “Not really. Blood and smokes are my main expenses. Not like I pay rent or utilities or anything.”
 
“I’m still going to need some sort of employment,” she said, fiddling with her empty coffee cup. “I guess the Doublemeat Palace is hiring.”
 
“Fast food? That’s beneath you, Slayer. You’re too good for that.”
 
“But what else am I fit for?” Buffy asked. “No college, no experience that I can put on a resume. As you said, I’m not a shop girl, or a construction girl. I’m a Slayer.” She stared dejectedly at the countertop, wishing there was an easy answer.
 
Spike thought for a minute. “Have you considered teaching one of those girly aerobics classes or something?” he asked. “With your body and skills, I should think that was right up your alley.”
 
“Not sure how much those jobs pay,” Buffy sighed. “It would be great, but would it be enough?”
 
“Well, it would be if I kicked in some of my stash,” Spike said. “And Willow could get a job as well. If she’s living here, she should be paying rent.”
 
“She’d probably take that suggestion as a sign that I was under your evil influence,” Buffy remarked.
 
“Too bad,” Spike grumbled. “They can’t expect you to work all day and slay all night with no help. That’s fucking insane. And why doesn’t the Watcher’s Council pay you? Bad enough your watcher took off, but they could at least compensate you for your efforts.”
 
“I guess the topic’s never come up,” Buffy said. “Most Slayers don’t last this long.”
 
“Well they’d better change their structure a bit, because if I have anything to say about it you’ll be lasting for long enough to retire with a pension,” Spike vowed. He got up and cleared his place, trying to hide his frustration at her situation.
 
“Hey,” she said, coming up behind him and turning him around. “You don’t have to get so angry on my behalf. I’ll be okay.”
 
“Care about you, Slayer,” he said, fixing his eyes on hers. “Can’t stand to see you suffer, and can’t help but be irritated when I see you being trodden on.”
 
She pulled him down into a kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered.
 
After a few moments Spike broke off the kiss and looked at her, frowning slightly. “Why does my hair smell like strawberries?”
 
Buffy giggled. “I thought your hair could use some TLC after all the peroxide and gel.”
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “Is there going to be anything left of my evil persona when you get done with me?”
 
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Buffy said with another giggle. “I’m having so much fun I may never give your body back.”
 
“Oi! We are not doing a permanent swap here. You’re not making me deal with the Scoobies forever, missy,” Spike said jokingly.
 
Buffy however grew subdued again. “I just hope they will get the hint. I’m worried they’re going to do something stupid that’s ‘for my own good’ and someone’s going to get hurt.”
 
“Won’t let them hurt you, Slayer,” Spike reassured her.
 
“I’m not worried about me,” Buffy interrupted. “I worry about you. I don’t want one of them deciding to dust you out of some need to protect me or something.”
 
Spike’s heart leaped in his chest. She cares about me. Can’t believe it. Aloud he said, “I appreciate the concern, Buffy. But I’m a big vampire, or will be once I get my body back, and I can look after myself.”
 
“I hope so,” Buffy said, leaning down to kiss him again. “And now, can I suggest a shower and some mouthwash? Because morning after hangover breath? Not so appealing.”
 
“The things we womenfolk must endure to maintain our ravishing beauty,” Spike quipped. He separated from her and went upstairs to take care of the morning ablutions, while Buffy turned on the news to watch for any other stories of mysterious cases of amnesia.
 
****************************
 
“What do we do about this?” Xander raged. “It’s like she’s gone through a complete personality transplant along with the body swap!” He was heading to the mall with Willow riding shotgun, and had barely waited until the car doors closed before exploding.
 
“Maybe she’s just… stressed,” Willow offered. “I mean, being stuck in a vampire body can’t be easy.”
 
“I don’t know, she seems pretty comfortable in the Bleached Wonder suit,” Xander grumbled. “And if she’s stressed, why is she taking it out on us? You would think that she would be taking it out on Spike. If he hadn’t kissed her they wouldn’t be in this situation.”
 
“I guess,” Willow said. “But then she also might be wandering around with no memory of who she is. And that didn’t go over well before,” she added ruefully.
 
“All I know is that they’re getting pretty cozy all of a sudden,” Xander said. “She went out drinking with him at the Bronze last night!”
 
“Maybe Buffy’s just trying to keep an eye on him,” Willow said hopefully.
 
“You know it’s more than that!” Xander sputtered. “They were kissing for God’s sake! And, hello weirdness, kissing themselves basically.”
 
“Got me there,” Willow conceded. “That is truly weird.”
 
“There must be something wrong with her. Maybe being stuck in a vampire body makes you crazy or something.”
 
“We need to get them switched back,” Willow said. “We can’t tell if there’s something wrong with her until then.”
 
Xander drove on in silence for a while. “Wils, I know you said you were off the magic. But don’t you think this case is a reasonable exception? I mean, there could be some magical means to fix this problem that we’re not considering.”
 
Willow frowned at her lap. “Xander, I hear you, but I… I really screwed up last time. I don’t think I can control it.”
 
Willow’s voice was pained and shaky, and Xander realized he was pushing too hard. “It’s okay Willow,” Xander said, reaching over to pat her leg. “We’ll work it out some other way.” He pulled into the Sunnydale Mall parking lot and headed around to the loading docks. He and Willow got out and started walking around. There were cameras trained on the loading docks, and they noticed the one near the door marked ‘Electronics Depot’. “Wonder if that camera caught anything,” Xander mused.
 
“It’s possible,” Willow agreed. “Wonder how we’re going to find out.”
 
“Do you think they store the tapes?” Xander asked.
 
“I’m sure the police must have taken everything from that day already,” Willow said.
 
“But maybe they have a backup copy or something,” Xander said. “We could go to the security office and see what they can tell us.” They entered the mall and walked through until they found the security office.
 
“How can I help you?” asked the guard behind the desk.
 
Xander thought quickly, “My car was parked behind the loading dock yesterday and someone keyed it. The cops don’t really care, but I was wondering if you had security cameras back there. I think it was my ex, and I’d like to have some proof.”
 
The guard looked at the two of them knowingly. “Didn’t like getting replaced by a redhead, did she?” he leered. Willow ground her teeth and smiled at the joke. “Well, I’m probably not supposed to, but I don’t see what it could hurt. Where were you parked?”
 
“Behind that electronics store that got robbed,” Xander said. “Weird coincidence. The robbery made me think about your cameras.”
 
The guard beckoned them to follow him into the next room, where he searched through electronic recordings until he found the right date. “Here we go,” he said as it started playing. “When were you there?”
 
“Sometime after noon. Not exactly sure when – I was shopping for a long time.”
 
“Probably why she keyed your car. Spending too much on the new girl,” the man laughed. Willow stifled the urge to turn him into a toad and concentrated on the monitor. It so happened that there was a car parked fairly near the loading dock for most of the afternoon, but it was occasionally blocked from view by customers coming to pick up large items from the loading dock.
 
After ten minutes of searching, Willow said, “Can you hold it there?” The man paused the playback and they looked at three guys loading boxes into a large black van. Willow recognized two of them – Jonathan had gone to school with them, and that other kid was Tucker’s brother, whatever his name was. The third guy looked vaguely familiar as well, but she couldn’t place him.
 
“So your ex was a man?” the guard asked with a snicker.
 
“No,” Willow said in an irritated tone. “But I just realized, there were so many cars blocking the view that she could have come at any time and keyed it and we’d never see it.” To Xander she said, “Come on, honey. Let it go. We’re never going to be able to prove it was her.”
 
Xander was puzzled at what Willow could have seen, but played along. “I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “Sorry to bother you, man.”
 
“Hey, we all have women troubles sometimes,” the guard said. “Just hope she doesn’t go all Fatal Attraction on you.” The guard’s tone indicated that he would actually find that quite amusing, and both Xander and Willow lost no time scuttling out of the office.
 
“What a creep,” Willow muttered as they headed back through the mall.
 
“What did you see, Wils?” Xander asked.
 
“Those three guys were loading a really large pile of computers into that van,” she replied. “And one of them was Jonathan Levinson, from our class in high school, and another was Tucker Wells’ brother. You know Tucker, the guy who summoned the hellhounds?”
 
“That’s right. His brother did something like that too once didn’t he?” Xander recalled.
 
“I think so. Summoned something weird during a play or something.”
 
“It’s not much, but they could be up to something,” Xander said. “So what now, back to Revello Drive?”
 
“I guess so,” Willow said. They got back into Xander’s car and returned to Buffy’s house, puzzling out the whole confusing situation.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon, not me. Sigh.

Thank you to all my patient readers and reviewers. This story is taking me a while, for whatever reason, but I promise to finish it come hell or high water!


*********************
Chapter 12
*********************
 
Spike made his way back downstairs around noon after a long shower. He realized that Buffy’s underarms were getting fuzzy and managed to shave them successfully, but he took a look at the expanse of skin involved in shaving the legs and chickened out. With my luck I’ll slice open a vein and have to fight the demon off after he smells Slayer blood. After the usual exhausting attempt to figure out what clothes to wear, he finally made his way downstairs. Buffy had been sipping coffee in front of the TV and looked up when Spike entered the room. “How are you doing?” she asked.
 
“Better. Feel almost human again,” he said. “Well, okay, I am human. But you know what I mean. I’m actually starting to get hungry now that the hangover is wearing off.”
 
“Well, help yourself to whatever you can find,” Buffy offered, following him into the kitchen. “I could probably stand to go grocery shopping sometime. The cupboard is getting a little bare around here.”
 
Spike had to agree. Aside from the blood he had bought, the fridge contained some cheese and butter, and half a carton of milk, but not much else. “Not sure what to make of these ingredients,” he admitted.
 
Buffy looked over his shoulder. “Grilled cheese?” she suggested.
 
“Sounds good, although I’ve honestly never made it,” Spike said.
 
“It’s not that hard. You can learn,” Buffy said. She gave him a few hints as she sat down to watch him cook. Ten minutes and a singed finger later, he had a reasonably decent sandwich, put some tortilla chips next to it, and called it lunch. Buffy poured another mug of blood and sat down to join him. “Not bad for a guy,” she smirked.
 
“Hey, I’m not completely helpless,” he protested. “I just haven’t needed to cook my lunch, well, ever.” He found the sandwich delicious for a first attempt. Had I known what I’d be missing I would have made sure to thank the cook more when I was alive.
 
“What, you didn’t cook when you were alive?” Buffy asked, curious.
 
Spike shook his head with his mouth full. “No. Had servants. Most everyone in my circle did at the time. And even if we hadn’t had them, men just didn’t cook back then. Womenfolk would shoo you out of the kitchen every time you tried to set foot in there.”
 
Buffy pondered that. “Servants. Wish I had some of those. At least for the laundry and the housecleaning.”
 
“You’ve got a sister and a roommate,” Spike pointed out. “They should be doing more of that stuff.”
 
“Willow does some,” Buffy said. “But I do need to make Dawn do more chores and stuff. She’s getting spoiled.”
 
“Threaten to eat her,” Spike said with a grin.
 
“Very funny,” Buffy replied. “And besides, once we switch back that means a level of cannibalism that I’m not particularly comfortable with.”
 
“Picky eater,” Spike teased, and Buffy stuck her tongue out at him in response.
 
Willow and Xander came in through the kitchen door at that point with a bag of takeout from the local fried chicken place. “We’re back,” Willow said, clearly uneasy at their chummy interaction. “We um, brought some lunch if anyone is interested.”
 
“Well, I sort of just finished lunch,” Spike said. “But I’ll take a piece of chicken if you can spare it.”
 
“How did it go?” Buffy asked as the others grabbed plates and dug in.
 
“We may have found something,” Xander replied. He described the security tape and the three men with the black van. The description triggered a memory in Buffy.
 
“Three guys,” she mused. “That’s what I saw out of the corner of my eye that night. Three figures at least. I don’t remember what they looked like or if there was a van, but I did see three people walking.” She wrinkled her brow trying to remember more.
 
“That rings a bell with me as well,” Spike added. “Three heartbeats. I remember hearing them. Didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, given that I was a bit preoccupied with trying to remember my own name.”
 
“What did the third guy look like?” Buffy asked. Willow described him and suddenly Spike sat up and smacked himself on the forehead.
 
“Of course!” he said. “The guys who… um… the guys who made the bot.” His borrowed face blushed as he remembered the bot and all the baggage that came with it. “Warren was the third guy’s name. I went over there recently to go find out… some information on the chip.” Spike figured that the Scoobies didn’t really need to know that the chip didn’t work on Buffy yet.
 
“So you’ve been there?” Buffy exclaimed. “You know where they live?”
 
“I know where they used to live, in any event,” Spike said. “Maybe we can check the place out tonight, after dark. Don’t fancy walking in there dressed as you if they’re trying to erase your memory because you’re the Slayer.”
 
“Good point,” Buffy said.
 
Willow had been listening to the exchange, and felt the need to assert herself. “But are we sure those are the same guys? And what could they possibly have done to make this happen? I mean, building a robot is one thing, but erasing people’s memories?”
 
“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” Buffy said firmly. “I intend to follow it.”
 
Spike nodded, finishing his second piece of chicken and licking his lips. “I agree. I still think Tara and I should go check out the victims. Maybe it will give us some more clues on how they did this.”
 
“Well, she should be here in a little while,” Buffy said. “While you’re gone, maybe we can do some internet searching and find out as much as possible about these guys.”
 
“I guess that’s a plan,” Willow said. “As soon as we’re done eating I’ll fire up the old laptop and see what we can find.”
 
When Tara arrived the leftovers had been cleared away and the dishes piled in the sink, making room for Willow’s laptop. Xander and Buffy crowded around, hunting for any information on Warren, Andrew (once they had remembered Tucker’s brother’s name) and Jonathan. The Trio had done a fair job of covering their tracks online, but they were able to find Warren’s parents’ house, which seemed to Spike to be the right address. “Hello, Glinda,” Spike said as he answered the doorbell. “Glad to see you. Come in while I get my things together.”
 
“Hey guys,” Tara said. “How goes the battle?”
 
“We’ve had a few leads,” Willow explained. She briefly outlined what they had found so far, with a few interruptions from Xander to clarify some points.
 
“That’s great,” Tara exclaimed. “We might actually be getting somewhere.”
 
“Speaking of getting somewhere, are you ready to go check out the hospital?” Spike asked.
 
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Tara said. “I feel like some sort of secret agent or something.”
 
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?” Willow asked, trying to hide her disappointment at being left behind.
 
“The fewer people, the less we’ll be noticed,” Spike said. “Come on Glinda, let’s see what we can find.” He led the way out the door.
 
Tara looked at Willow with concern, but in the end said, “We’ll be back soon.” She turned and followed Spike, closing the door behind her.
 
“Who died and left him boss?” Xander grumbled. He was completely uncomfortable with the thought of a vampire calling the shots.
 
“I did,” Buffy said shortly, fixing him with a stare that dared him to make something of it. Xander didn’t have an immediate response to her statement. He moved over next to Willow, frowning constantly while Buffy ignored him and started washing the dishes.
 
“Buffy, what did he mean about checking out the chip?” Willow asked nervously. “What if he was trying to get it out?”
 
Here we go, she thought. She was halfway tempted to come up with some lame lie or brush-off, but Spike was right – she really needed to start asserting herself. Buffy steadfastly concentrated on the dishes as she quietly said, “He was probably trying to figure out why it doesn’t work on me anymore.”
 
The effect of her statement was immediate and completely expected. “What?” Xander cried. “He can hurt you? Why didn’t you dust him already?”
 
“I thought you said the chip still works!” Willow spluttered. “It worked when you went after me yesterday morning!”
 
“Will the two of you just calm down for two seconds!” Buffy thundered, cutting through the stream of recriminations as she spun to face them. “Okay, yes he can hurt me. I punched him in the nose, he punched me back, the chip didn’t fire. The chip still works on humans so I’m assuming that when you brought me back you fucked something up so that I don’t register as human anymore.” Her voice got ragged with hurt as she finally voiced her secret concern: that she was no longer fully human after all she had been through.
 
Xander and Willow were both thunderstruck for a moment. Then Xander sputtered, “What do you mean, you’re not human? Willow’s spell couldn’t have done that!”
 
“How do you know?” Buffy spat back. “You guys didn’t even know I was in heaven. You had no idea what the fuck you were doing! All you wanted was to get me back so you didn’t have to deal with the slaying and to hell with the consequences!”
 
“That’s not fair!” Willow cried. “You’re our friend, Buffy! We all care about you! We missed you!”
 
“That’s great, but it’s still about you guys, isn’t it?” Buffy said. “You missed me. So I had to get dragged out of my eternal reward because you couldn’t deal.”
 
“But that still doesn’t answer the question about Spike!” Xander said, doggedly trying to drag the conversation back to the vampire. “If his chip is malfunctioning you can’t keep him around! What if it fails completely?”
 
“The last few weeks he could have killed me at least a half a dozen times, Xander,” Buffy said in a lower voice. “I’ve been so depressed and out of it, he could have drained my neck and I would have let him. But he didn’t.”
 
Willow’s eyes grew wide. “Buffy, you’re starting to scare me here,” she said.
 
“He didn’t hurt me,” Buffy repeated, staring them both down. “He helped me. He listened to me, and didn’t judge me, and didn’t tell me what to do or what to feel. The only reason I didn’t let some vampire have a really good day was because of him.”
 
“But he’s a killer, Buffy!” Xander insisted. “The fact that he’s helping you out doesn’t erase what he is!”
 
Buffy turned back to the dishes, drying plates while she collected her thoughts. “Xander, how many years was Anya a demon?” Buffy asked quietly after a minute or two.
 
The statement seemed like a nonsequitur to Xander. “What difference does that make?” Xander asked. “She’s human now.”
 
Buffy pressed on. “Yeah, but she didn’t want to be human. It’s not like she stood up and said ‘I renounce all my demon ways. Forgive me world for all the mayhem I caused for a thousand years.’ It was forced on her, just like the chip was forced on Spike.”
 
“Still not seeing the point here,” Xander said.
 
Buffy turned to face him again. “The point is that Anya spent about ten times longer killing and tormenting people before she became human again, and we’re supposed to instantly forget all that. But if Spike fights on our side, he gets no credit because he spent a century being a vampire. Seems a bit of a double standard if you ask me.”
 
“But…” Xander began.
 
“Enough,” Buffy cut in, throwing the towel on the counter. “Here’s the deal. I need Spike around. He helps me with the slaying and he helps me cope. You can either shut up and deal, or get the fuck out of my house. I am done with this argument already.”
 
“So you’re choosing the bloodsucker over us?” Xander cried.
 
“No, you’re the one who’s making a choice out of it,” Buffy said firmly. “The choice is yours – accept Spike as part of the team, or get out. I’m through justifying myself to you. I have no problem with having both you and Spike as friends and allies. You’re the one with the problem. So fucking solve it yourself.” With that she stalked out of the room and up to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
 
Willow sat stunned at the exchange. “What do we do now?” she asked after a minute.
 
“You do what you want,” Xander growled angrily. “I’ve got to get out of here for a while. I’ll be at the Magic Box if you need me.” He turned and left, also slamming the door, leaving Willow alone in the kitchen with her laptop and a troubled mind.
 
****************************
 
Tara and Spike made their way to the hospital on foot, with Spike pausing at every stoplight to turn his face up to the sun. “You’re really enjoying that, aren’t you?” Tara commented.
 
“Yeah,” Spike admitted. “You learn to cope with being in shadow all the time, but I think any vamp who says he doesn’t miss the sun at all is full of it.”
 
“Are Willow and Xander still giving you guys a hard time?” Tara asked. She had noticed Willow’s unhappiness at being left behind and it pained her, although she agreed with the reasons.
 
Spike sighed and shrugged. “Willow was waiting for us when we got home last night. Then this morning Xander came banging in as usual, giving us shit about the fact that we went out to the Bronze last night.”
 
“You went to the Bronze?” Tara asked, raising her eyebrows.
 
“Just went for a couple of beers after patrol. I forgot about the beer to body weight ratio problem and got pretty wasted. But Xander acted like we had both gotten drunk and destroyed half the town,” Spike grumbled.
 
“What did Buffy say when Xander started in?”
 
“She told him to lay off, which was a fine thing to see,” Spike said. “I hope she keeps it up. I’m just afraid when we get all switched back she’s going to fall back into letting them call all the shots.”
 
“Well, maybe with your help she won’t,” Tara said with a smile that gave Spike hope. At least someone is on her side, he thought.
 
They reached the hospital and went in, asking at the information desk about Mr. Renolds, the first victim. “I’m sorry, but he’s in the psych ward, and only immediate family are allowed in to see him.” The nurse was not convinced that Tara was a cousin, and they turned away, momentarily stymied.
 
“What now?” Tara asked.
 
Spike looked around. “Let’s go up to the psych ward and see what we can find,” he said. Tara shivered a bit, recalling her experience with Glory, but steeled herself to go up there with Spike. On the way they saw an orderly coming out of a locker room, and Spike got an idea. Waiting until the coast was clear, Spike and Tara dashed into the ladies’ locker room. He was able to dig two used but not filthy sets of scrubs out of a laundry hamper that fit them well enough. “Doctor Tara and Doctor Spike, at your service,” he said, and Tara grinned in reply.
 
Tara muttered a small charm, a glamour meant to cause people not to notice their lack of IDs and other details. The spell was effective, given that they were ninety percent disguised already. They left the locker room strolling purposefully toward the psych ward, and were pleased to see that no one in particular stopped them. When the nurse behind the desk stepped out for a moment, they peered over the counter to find out the room where the first victim was located. They found the room empty except for a middle aged man in a hospital bed, watching TV in a desultory manner.
 
“Mr. Renolds?” Spike said. “How are you feeling?”
 
“I’m doing okay,” he said. He cocked his head in confusion. “I don’t recall seeing you before.”
 
“We were both off the last couple of days,” Tara explained. “We were just making the rounds. Have you noticed any changes?”
 
The man shook his head. “Still can’t remember anything. They tell me my name’s Jerry, and some woman has been here who says she’s my wife, but I can’t remember anything,” he said sadly. “It’s like my brain is an etch-a-sketch and someone shook it.”
 
“Well, at least you remember what an etch-a-sketch is,” Spike said. “Nothing else though, huh?”
 
Tara looked hard at the man as he spoke to Spike, seeking out his aura. At first it seemed he didn’t have one, which was alarming in and of itself. All sentient creatures had auras, even vampires and demons. Then with a stifled gasp she realized that the man’s aura was actually next to him. Usually she saw auras as a cloud of colors centered on the person. Here, the cloud was separated from him by about six inches, moving when he moved, but not connected to him. What in the world could do that to a person?
 
“Well, I know the other specialists are working on some new angles, so hopefully we’ll be able to get you back to yourself soon,” Tara said, catching Spike’s eye.
 
“I sure hope so,” the man sighed dejectedly.
 
“Hang in there, Mr. Renolds,” Spike said, and together he and Tara left the room. They walked unhurriedly back to the changing room to reclaim their clothes, with Tara developing a headache from holding the glamour spell. She breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally able to slip out of the locker room and exit the hospital.
 
“What did you see, Glinda?” Spike asked. “I didn’t notice anything useful at all.”
 
“His aura was… shifted somehow,” Tara said. “It would be like if someone detached your shadow and it was following you, but not touching you. His aura was there, but in this pool of color next to him on the bed.”
 
Spike boggled a moment at her statement. “So whatever those guys did, it somehow displaced, what, his consciousness? His soul? Pulled something out of place so that he can’t remember anything?” Spike wondered.
 
“And with you guys, they must have done the same thing,” Tara broke in. “But since you were so close your auras or consciousnesses or whatever just latched on to the other body somehow.”
 
Spike shook his head. “That makes some sense, but what could do that?”
 
Tara shook her head in return. “No idea. I’m thinking magic, but it would have to be a fairly powerful spell, and I would think the caster would have to be really close to the person to make it work.”
 
“Well, Buffy and I will go poke around over there tonight,” Spike said. “Maybe we’ll find something that will clue us in.”
 
“Let’s get back to the house and tell the others,” Tara said. “But I feel like we are finally getting somewhere.”
 
“Agreed,” said Spike, and they turned their feet toward Revello Drive.
 
*******************
 
Anya was dusting shelves when Xander came bursting through the door of the Magic Box, clearly in a state of annoyance. “Xander? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” she asked.
 
“Buffy practically threw me out of her house!” Xander yelled.
 
“What did you do to her?” Anya asked. “You didn’t try to take over her house again, did you?”
 
“What?” Xander said. “I don’t take over her house.”
 
“I’m just saying that she seemed pretty annoyed by the disinvite spell we did,” Anya said. “At least that’s what Spike said.”
 
“Spike is the problem!” Xander yelled, pacing back and forth. “Buffy basically told us that she was choosing Spike over us!”
 
“What? Xander, I think you’re overreacting again,” Anya said.
 
“I am not overreacting!” he yelled. “She told us his chip doesn’t work on her anymore and we’re supposed to somehow welcome him into the group with open arms? The hell?”
 
“Xander, you’re not making any sense,” Anya said in exasperation. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over to sit down at the table. Sitting next to him she said, “Now, tell me the whole thing, from the beginning, without the hysterics.”
 
“I am not hysterical!” Anya folded her arms and looked at him sternly. “Fine. I went over there with donuts this morning like I always do…”
 
Anya listened for several long minutes as he described Buffy telling him to use the doorbell and to leave Spike alone. He described the trip to the mall and what they found. Then he launched into the description of the argument with Buffy that ended with them both slamming doors. “I just couldn’t believe what she was saying! She even compared you to Spike, like somehow Spike should get a pass just because you were a demon longer or something.”
 
“I guess I am a little like Spike,” Anya said thoughtfully. “I mean, we’re both old, both of us are in our current state without our consent.”
 
“But he’s evil!” Xander insisted. “You’re not going to go out on a killing rampage if a piece of silicon stops working.”
 
“How do you know Spike will?” Anya asked, honestly not seeing his point. “I mean, he’s the Slayer of Slayers. The only person he can slay right now is the Slayer, and he hasn’t slayed her, so if the Slayer of Slayers isn’t slaying the Slayer, then what makes you think he’s going to go around slaying everyone else?”
 
Xander paused a moment to parse Anya’s last sentence. Then shaking his head to clear it he said, “But you’ve got a soul, Anya. You’re human. There’s no comparison.”
 
Anya shrugged. “You assume I have a soul. I don’t know. I did without one for a thousand years. I guess I have one now. But don’t human criminals have those too?”
 
“Yeah, but…” Xander was finding it tough to come up with a reply.
 
“And I never wanted to be human and all that,” Anya continued. “Okay, I like it now that I found you, but I enjoyed being a Vengeance Demon. It was fun and rewarding. If I didn’t have you, I’d go back to it in a heartbeat if the opportunity arose.”
 
Xander’s jaw dropped. “What are you saying? You think tormenting people is fun?”
 
“Well, people who deserve it,” Anya said with a shrug. “My point is that I don’t have much of a choice. I’m human, and I have to make it work. Since I met you, I want to be a good person so you’ll stay with me and give me lots of orgasms. But Spike never had to stay around and help. He stopped doing evil things and started helping us last summer because he wanted to. He could have taken off when Buffy died or gotten some minions together to wreak havoc or heaven knows what else. He stayed, Buffy wants him around. I really don’t see the problem.”
 
“But… but…” Xander babbled.
 
“Look,” Anya said, leaning forward and taking his hands. “I love you. But you have got to get it through your skull that Buffy can handle her own affairs. If she wants Spike around, what are you going to gain from fighting her? I mean, what do you hope to accomplish?”
 
Xander stared for a moment. “We just want her to see how dangerous Spike is,” he said. “She’s been so out of it since she came back and we just don’t think she’s…”
 
“What, she’s not in her right mind?” Anya interrupted. “Xander, she may be depressed and pissed off about being pulled out of heaven, but she’s not crazy. And I think she’s a lot more of an expert on what vampires are dangerous than you are.”
 
Xander shook his head and then dropped it into his hands. “I just can’t believe she’d choose him over us,” he said.
 
“Xander, honey, you could just, you know, leave Spike alone. There’s a thought.” She stood up and faced him, arms folded. “You’re just going to drive her away if you keep this up. You and Willow need to back off and let the woman breathe.”
 
“She’s our friend, An,” Xander said. “We’re just trying to help her. And what’s with you defending Spike all of a sudden?” he demanded.
 
Anya gave up and turned to pick up her duster. “All I’m saying is that maybe you should ask her what she considers help. You know, listen to her? Like friends do?” A customer entered the shop at that point, and Anya turned her attention to capitalist gain. Xander leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair, completely flummoxed by the whole situation. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters and borrowed dialog bits are Joss Whedon's, not mine.

Thank you so much to all the reviewers who inspire me to keep going! 


************************
Chapter 13
************************
 
Willow turned off her laptop after the third time she read the same sentence and it made no sense. What the hell is going on with all of us? Her brain sorted all the various facts and observations of the past few days and got nowhere. Buffy was in Spike’s body, check. Buffy seemed to like being in Spike’s body. Ok, I can sort of see wanting a break from responsibility for a day or two, but why not just spend the day at home on couch? Buffy had seemed to imply that she was or had been suicidal, which was highly scary. But at the same time, Buffy had said that Spike was the reason she hadn’t acted on any self destructive impulses, not the Scoobies or even her own sister. Deep down, if she was really honest with herself, Willow was still upset that Buffy wasn’t more grateful to be alive. I gave her another chance at life! I gave her a chance to see Dawn grow up and all that! I know she misses Heaven, but why does she hate this life so much? Is it really that bad here?
 
Then there was the whole situation with Tara. Willow ached for her. Alone at night the bed seemed too large, too cold without Tara’s warm body there holding her, kissing her, making love to her. She had thought she loved Oz, in fact she was sure she had, but her feelings for Tara were ten times more intense. Tara would never know how much Willow struggled, every day, to keep from using magic to somehow heal their rift. A love spell, some charm to make Tara want to return – it would be so easy to do. But Willow reluctantly admitted that she would lose Tara permanently if she ever tried something like that. The hurt in Tara’s eyes when the memory spell had broken, that moment when Willow saw that Tara knew what she had done, was seared permanently in Willow’s mind. Every time she saw Tara the ghost of that deeply sad look remained, barely hidden behind Tara’s kind eyes and beautiful face.
 
So what do we do now, Ms. Rosenberg? she asked herself. She was pondering going up to check on Buffy when Dawn came home. “Hey, Willow,” Dawn said, tossing her backpack on the counter. “Where is everyone?”
 
“Tara and Spike went to the hospital to try to learn something about the amnesia victims, Xander’s at the Magic Box, and Buffy’s upstairs,” Willow rattled off.
 
“Any new updates on how to get everyone back where they belong?” Dawn asked as she rummaged in the cabinets for an after school snack. “And is anyone ever going to go grocery shopping around here?”
 
“I guess that sort of got forgotten in the shuffle,” Willow admitted. Truthfully, she had been so stressed out over Tara’s absence that she hadn’t even noticed the cupboards were bare. “As for the body swap thing, we think the guys who made the Buffybot might be behind this.”
 
Dawn sat down with a package of Pop Tarts she had found and munched. “Why would they do something like that?”
 
“Beats me,” Willow said with a shrug. “But we saw them on the security camera at the mall, and Buffy and Spike seemed to remember something from the night it happened.”
 
As if on cue, Buffy came into the kitchen at that moment. “Hey, Dawnie. How was school?” she asked, getting herself a mug of blood and ignoring Willow for the time being.
 
“Well, I got a B on my French test, thanks to you and Spike and your homework help,” she said happily.
 
“That’s great!” Buffy said with a smile. She frowned a moment at her sister’s snack. “I don’t suppose there is any chance you’re going to ever eat a healthy snack, is there?”
 
“Well, not unless someone goes shopping around here,” Dawn shot back.
 
“Right. I forgot, given the whole liquid diet thing the last few days,” Buffy said, frowning with distaste at her mug. “Maybe I can send Spike on a grocery run when he gets back.”
 
“I’m going out with Tara tonight, remember?” Dawn said. “So you don’t have to worry about feeding me until tomorrow, if that helps.” Willow sat up a bit at Tara’s name, but the sisters ignored her and went on with their conversation.
 
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Buffy said. “Hey, do you think you could throw in a load of towels before you go? I sorta could use some help with the laundry and such around here.”
 
Dawn was surprised. “Um, sure. I guess I haven’t been doing a lot of that lately,” she added sheepishly.
 
“I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately,” Buffy admitted. “It’s just been easier to either do it myself or ignore it. But if you could take care of a few loads a week and help a little more with the dishes and stuff, it would be a big help.”
 
“Alright,” Dawn agreed with a token frown. “But don’t expect me to scrub toilets.”
 
“No, that’s next week,” Buffy teased. Dawn stuck out her tongue at her and went off gamely to take care of the laundry. Buffy turned to rinse out her mug, the awkward silence between her and Willow drawing out painfully. Buffy was proud of herself for standing up to them, but she found it completely draining. She had gone up to her room not only to avoid decking Xander and getting a migraine for her pains, but also because she had to just lie down and regroup.
 
“Buffy, are you okay?” Willow asked finally when the silence became unbearable.
 
“Yeah,” she said shortly, putting away the clean dishes and wiping up the counter. “Arguing just exhausts me, you know?”
 
Guilt twisted in Willow’s gut at Buffy’s words, delivered in Spike’s baritone voice. “Buffy, we aren’t trying to fight with you. We just want to try to help you get back to the way you were.”
 
Buffy sat down across from Willow and looked at her hands. Spike’s hands, she thought. She thought of how those hands had awkwardly patted her back when her mom got sick, how they had punched her and caressed her, how they had gently welcomed her back to life. “Willow, I can’t be the way I was. Not anymore,” she said, still studying the black nail polish and long fingers.
 
“Buffy, I know you’re worried, but believe me, you’re human,” Willow protested. “There was nothing in that spell that could…”
 
“It’s not just that, Wil,” Buffy said, finally looking into her friend’s eyes. “Before I had my mom, and then Giles telling me what to do. Now they’re both gone, and everyone says I have to be an adult. Ok, I guess I get that. But somehow I’m supposed to be an adult who gets no support from anyone. Or I’m only allowed to get support from approved sources.”
 
Willow chewed her lip. “I know I haven’t been helping with the finances,” she said finally. “I really didn’t think about it. Between school and all the… other stuff.”
 
“You mean the magic,” Buffy interrupted.
 
“Yeah,” Willow said in a small voice. “I just didn’t realize how much you were struggling. I promise, I’ll do better. We can sit down and figure out what sort of rent I should be paying and…”
 
“Willow,” Buffy broke in again. “That’s all great, and I really appreciate it. But that’s not the whole thing, and you know it.”
 
Tears started welling in Willow’s eyes. “I know I screwed up, okay? I just don’t know what to do to make it right with you.”
 
In the past, Willow’s tears would be enough to make Buffy cave in and say something to deflect the situation. But the sight of Spike’s strong hands folded on the counter strengthened her somehow. “If you want to make it right, stop hovering over me. Stop expecting me to feel a certain way and then getting all hurt when I don’t. I am never going to be grateful for being pulled out of Heaven. Never.” Willow cringed at Buffy’s blunt statement, but Buffy went on. “I will probably forgive you, in time. But not on your schedule. And if Spike helps me to get over it, if Spike makes me feel anything other than nothing, I’m going to spend as much time as I need to with him.”
 
“But Buffy, really, Spike?” Willow protested. “How can you be sure he’s safe now that he can hurt you?”
 
“Because he doesn’t,” Buffy said. “He doesn’t hurt me. I hit him. He defended himself. But since that time he’s done nothing but help me.”
 
“He’s got no soul,” Willow cried. “He’s not like Angel was, Buffy! He can’t substitute for the lost love of your life.”
 
“You’re right, he’s not like Angel,” Buffy said, getting up and pacing back and forth with unconstrained emotion while she spoke. “He doesn’t leave me for my own good. He doesn’t lose his soul and out of the blue start killing people. He didn’t run away when I died. He doesn’t put me up on some pedestal and then get all disappointed when I don’t live up to his Perfect Slayer ideal. If I wanted Angel, I know how to get to L.A.”
 
Willow’s eyes got even wider. “Do you hear what you’re saying?”
 
“Yes, do you?” Buffy shot back. “Angel isn’t what I need right now. A committee of Watcher wannabees second guessing my every move isn’t what I need right now. I could always use friends. Friends would be great. But if my friends are going to keep questioning every step I take and treating me like a defective child every time I do something they didn’t expect I’m going to lose my mind!” Her voice had risen to a furious shout, and her gums itched as the demon surged within her.
 
Willow noticed the flicker of yellow in the intense blue eyes and pushed her chair back unconsciously. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said lamely. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”
 
Buffy leaned against the counter, exhausted again. “Just back off,” she said quietly. “Please. Just let me be.” She stood up and left the kitchen, bumping into Dawn as the teen came up from the basement.
 
“Are you okay up here?” Dawn asked in a worried tone. “I heard yelling.”
 
“It’s okay, Dawnie,” Buffy reassured her. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Buffy headed to the living room and turned on the TV. Dawn hesitated for a moment, looking through the kitchen doorway to Willow, chewing her lip with a hurt expression, and to Buffy, who had sprawled Spike’s body across the sofa and was flipping through the channels. Making her choice, she went in and plopped on the couch next to Buffy.
 
The news came on, and both girls watched, wondering if there had been any more strange crimes. Tara and Spike came in while they were watching, bearing bags of groceries. “We’re back,” Spike said. “We stopped to get Tara’s car on the way home,” he added by way of explanation. Buffy and Dawn got up to relieve them of their burdens while Tara and Spike went back for a second load. Willow got up and helped put away the groceries, an uneasy silence pervading the kitchen the whole time. Buffy’s eyes boggled a bit at the size of the pile of bags Spike was bringing in. “Are we expecting company? I mean, like an entire Fortune 500 company or something?” Buffy quipped.
 
Spike shrugged. “Cupboards were bare, Mrs. Hubbard,” he responded. “Don’t want to have to resort to eating the Nibblet. Besides, she wouldn’t be good for more than a couple of meals.”
 
“Hey!” Dawn said. “Watch it, Shorty.”
 
Spike grinned. “Just you wait until I get my body back, Missy. You’ll be eating those words.”
 
“Mmm. Cookies. I’ll eat those instead,” Dawn replied, digging a box of her favorite chocolate chip delights out of one of the bags.
 
“After dinner,” Buffy admonished. Dawn pouted for a moment, then went back to putting away groceries. Buffy was astonished at the cornucopia spilling onto the counter. “How did you pay for all this?”
 
“Told you, I’ve got some money squirreled away,” Spike said. “Besides, I’m driving your body right now, so I get to pick the groceries.” He looked around and then added, “Where’s Harris?”
 
“He went to the Magic Box,” Buffy said. “We had a bit of a… discussion while you were gone.” Buffy stopped there and Spike wisely didn’t press the issue. Dawn looked at Buffy questioningly, but Buffy shook her head slightly, indicating her unwillingness to discuss the subject. Dawn sighed and returned to the grocery pile. After fifteen minutes the cabinets and fridge were full to bursting with food for humans and vampires alike. “Thanks so much for this, Spike,” Buffy said gratefully.
 
“Don’t mention it, pet,” he said. “But if you want to start dinner I won’t object…”
 
Buffy laughed. “Okay, I can take a hint. How about those steaks you brought home?”
 
Spike licked his lips. “You know the way to my heart,” he said. Buffy set about cooking the steaks, while Dawn fixed a salad and Tara and Willow set about clearing away clutter so they could set the dining table.
 
“How did it go?” Willow asked while they worked.
 
“It was weird. The guy’s aura was all wonky. But we’ll give the full story over dinner when everyone is here,” Tara said. After another minute Tara said, “Willow? What… what happened with Xander?”
 
“He and Buffy got in an argument,” Willow said noncommittally. “She went storming upstairs and he went storming off to the Magic Box. Sort of a heavy storm system, I guess,” she joked lamely.
 
“What were they arguing about?” Tara pressed.
 
Willow shrugged. “Xander still has Spike issues. Buffy made it pretty clear that she wants Spike around.”
 
“How about you?” Tara asked quietly, meeting Willow’s eyes. “Did you and Buffy argue as well?”
 
Willow looked into Tara’s eyes and her heart broke. Oh baby, I miss you so much. “I… um…” she fumbled. “I guess. I just don’t know what to do anymore. Nothing’s like it was, and I feel like it’s all my fault, but no one will let me fix it.”
 
Tara took Willow’s hand and sat down, pulling Willow into the chair next to her. She looked into Willow’s eyes and took a deep breath. “I still care about you Willow. I do. But please, please, stop trying to fix things. Some things can’t be fixed. Some can be fixed, but not by you. And some things just take time to fix. You can’t give up magic for a week and expect everything to, well, magically fix itself.”
 
“But what do I do in the meantime?” Willow asked, desperately trying to make sense of it all.
 
“You just…wait,” Tara said. “You wait, and you help where you are needed, but you need to let Buffy handle things her way. I know you got used to being in charge. But that’s not what Buffy or the group needs right now.” Tara stood up then, letting go of Willow’s hands. She went into the kitchen to get some silverware, leaving Willow to cover her face and shudder anew at what she had lost.
 
*******************
 
By the time they all sat down for dinner, Willow had composed herself, Buffy had relaxed visibly while cooking and trading barbs with Spike, and Spike was nearly drooling with anticipation. “A steak. I haven’t really tasted a steak since Queen Victoria sat on the throne,” he enthused as he took his seat.
 
“I swear, I’m going to have to go on a diet when you get done with my body,” Buffy admonished. “I’m going to gain a hundred pounds!”
 
“Nah, you’ll burn it all off slaying,” Spike assured her. “Now kindly pass the meat before I chew your arm off.”
 
After everyone was served, Tara and Spike filled the others in on their adventure at the hospital. “So this guy’s aura was somehow, what do we call it? Dislodged? Detached?” Willow asked in astonishment.
 
Tara nodded. “I could see it, plain as day, just not surrounding him, like auras usually do. Otherwise, it looked normal enough.”
 
Buffy pondered that while she sipped some blood. “What do our auras look like? Mine and Spike’s?”
 
“I guess I didn’t look too closely before,” Tara admitted. “Stand up and stand next to each other.”
 
Buffy and Spike did as they were told, looking at each other and Tara nervously. “So what’s the verdict?” Spike said after Tara had studied them for a few moments.
 
“Fascinating,” Tara mused. “Sorry, it’s just a little weird that I didn’t notice before. Your auras don’t quite fit. Like you’re wearing clothes that are the wrong size. The colors are all as expected – you both seem calm, in control, all that. But Buffy’s aura sort of ends at Spike’s knees. It’s really odd looking.”
 
“Great. My aura is a fashion nightmare as well,” Buffy quipped.
 
“Well mine must be dragging on the floor, short stuff,” Spike quipped back. Buffy stuck her tongue out at him and they both sat back down to finish their dinner.
 
“Okay, but we still don’t know how they did this or what we do to get it back,” Dawn pointed out.
 
“Let’s think about this,” Spike said in between bites. “They didn’t touch us, and they weren’t all that near to us. We didn’t even see them until after they did whatever it was.”
 
“So it can’t be a spell that requires personal contact,” Tara added, seeing where Spike was going.
 
“And it can’t be something that involves an object belonging to the person,” Willow said. “They probably didn’t know the store clerks.”
 
“Not a talisman probably, because they’d need one for each event, which seems like a lot of work,” Spike added.
 
“What could send a spell or something at a distance?” Buffy asked.
 
Tara thought for a moment. “Maybe a crystal of some kind? It would have to be something rare though.”
 
“That diamond!” Dawn cried suddenly. The others all turned to look at her. “Don’t you remember? That big diamond that got stolen from the museum? They found the guard all frozen and stuff.”
 
“That makes sense,” Willow said, nodding. “Something like that could be used to project the spell. Sort of like a… a mind eraser ray or something.”
 
“They could probably hit the clerks with it before they were even noticed,” Buffy added. “Then go in and tell them whatever they wanted, and their victims wouldn’t remember anything.”
 
“If they did build something like that, they didn’t do this in a day,” Spike said. “That sort of thing would take some doing.”
 
“I definitely say we pay them a visit tonight,” Buffy said. They set themselves to finishing their dinner and clearing the table. Dawn packed a bag for her overnight with Tara and brought it downstairs. “Are you sure we shouldn’t stay and help?” she asked.
 
“You go have your movie and sleepover,” Buffy assured her. “We’ll call you if anything comes up.” She gave her sister a hug and Dawn and Tara said their goodbyes.
 
“Are we ready for our recon then?” Spike asked.
 
“I guess so,” Buffy said. “Maybe we should patrol first though.”
 
“I guess I’ll go to the Magic Box and see what the others are up to,” Willow said, feeling a bit left out.
 
“We’ll walk you over there,” Buffy said. On some level she was sorry to see Willow looking so down, but at the same time she desperately hoped that some of what she had said had penetrated the Witch’s brain. The three of them gathered their things and walked to the store in a tense silence. They entered the store to find Xander and Anya finishing up a dinner of take-out Chinese.
 
“Romantic dinner for two, is it?” Spike commented as they entered.
 
“Well it was nice to be able to discuss our sex life without Xander shushing me all the time,” Anya said brightly.
 
“And again with the lack of filter,” Xander said, shaking his head slightly.
 
“A little couple time is always a good thing,” Buffy said, earning a slight frown from Xander about the possible implications of ‘couple time’ when she and Spike were the couple in question.
 
“Did you find out anything more about all this?” Anya asked.
 
Spike filled them in on what he and Tara had found, along with the speculations during dinner. “So our plan now is to go patrol, then go see what we can learn by poking around Geek Central.”
 
“I guess we can check the literature some more,” Willow said without a lot of enthusiasm. “Maybe there’s something we missed.”
 
“We’ll reconvene in the morning to compare notes,” Buffy said, fixing both Xander and Willow with stern eyes. “No need to wait up.”
 
Spike worked hard to stifle a shout of approval at her completely unsubtle hint that the Scoobies should get off her back. Atta girl! “Well, I guess we’re off then,” he said. He turned and left the shop with Buffy on his heels. “You tell ‘em, Slayer,” he said when they got outside.
 
Buffy let out a deep breath. “God, I thought I was going to vamp out and kill them both this afternoon. Xander goes stomping off in a huff, Willow pulls her ‘forgive poor little me’ look – I was ready to snap!”
 
“Good thing you didn’t, love,” Spike said. “All you’d get is a nasty headache for your pains.” They walked through the streets swiftly, doing a sweep of all the main cemeteries. A few unfortunate fledges crossed their path and were dispatched without a second thought, but the night was otherwise quiet. After they left the last graveyard, Spike said, “Are we ready to pay a visit to the Three Stooges?”
 
“Definitely,” Buffy said. As they walked a thought occurred to Buffy. “What did they have to say about the chip?” She pulled out a cigarette and lit it with much improved skill as she spoke.
 
Spike chuckled. “Getting rather casual with the fags, aren’t we?” Buffy shrugged and took a deep drag, blowing a cloud of smoke his way. “Watch it, Slayer. Your lungs you’re polluting here.”
 
“True. So are you going to answer my question?”
 
Spike dug his hands into his pockets and sighed. “They said it’s a marvelous piece of engineering that is working perfectly.”
 
Buffy smoked in silence while she pondered this. “So what is wrong with me then?” she asked quietly.
 
Spike stopped. “Look at me, Buffy,” he said. She dropped the cigarette, ground it out with her toe, and slowly raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “I’ve been in your body for a few days now. There’s nothing demonic or otherwise off that I can sense. Whatever has changed has got to be so slight as to be insignificant. You’re still the Slayer, and you’re still an amazing woman.” He stepped forward and cupped her face with his hands, planting a tender kiss on her lips to emphasize his words.
 
Buffy closed her eyes and stroked his face in return. “I can just about believe those words when you say them, you know?” she said. She opened her eyes again and saw her own green irises fixed on her with a look of devotion that she hadn’t known her face was capable of.
 
“I never lie to you, pet,” Spike said softly. He kissed her again, as if he had all the time in the world, then straightened up. “Are you okay to go on?”
 
Buffy nodded, fighting back tears. What did I ever do to earn this? I just don’t get it. Firmly placing her confusion on the back burner, she straightened up and said, “Time to go nerd hunting.”
 
They threaded their way through Sunnydale until they reached Warren’s parents house. The lights were off, and no one seemed to be around. “They have a separate basement entrance around back,” Spike said in a low voice. They crept around the house, keeping their eyes open for anything unusual. “Anyone home, you think?” he murmured as they paused near the door.
 
“How should I know?” Buffy asked.
 
“Vampire senses,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Use them!”
 
“Oh yeah. Right,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and listened intently. She could hear the one heartbeat from right next to her, lots of crickets and other night noises, but that was all. “I don’t hear anyone.” They crept down the short flight of stairs to the door and tried the lock.
 
“I usually keep my lock picks in my inside right pocket,” Spike offered. Buffy fished around and came up with two thin pieces of metal. She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “Don’t live for a century without learning a few essential skills.”
 
“So you can pick locks, but not make a grilled cheese?” she asked, stepping aside so Spike could work at the lock.
 
“I’ve needed to get through locked doors a lot more times than I’ve needed to cook human food,” he replied. Buffy shook her head in bemusement. “Got it,” he said triumphantly in a minute or two. They slowly pushed open the door and headed down the stairs.
 
The basement was much emptier than Spike had seen it last. The action figures and computers were gone, although there was still a lot of random furniture and scattered papers. “Looks like our boys are finally moving out of mommy’s basement,” Buffy remarked.
 
Spike turned on a desk lamp. “Well, let’s see what they left behind, shall we?” The two of them hunted through the papers and other detritus, trying to find some sort of clue. “Look at this love,” Spike said, handing a list to Buffy.
 
“Electronics store… 7-11… gas station?...” Buffy read aloud. “It’s like they were planning their robberies.”
 
“Maybe we should tip the police off after we’re done,” Spike said as he continued to hunt. “Slow them down a bit perhaps.”
 
Buffy was rifling through a pile of drawings, sketches, and blueprints until she stopped and cried, “Spike! I think I’ve got it!”
 
Spike came to look over her shoulder. The drawing she held was labeled ‘Amnesia Ray’, and seemed to describe a gun-like device with two crystals – a diamond and something called a ‘devil’s eye’. Some of the markings and jottings were nearly illegible, or were in some arcane language, but the intent was clear. “So they hit us and those other poor blighters with that, trying to erase our memories. Wankers.”
 
“Come on,” Buffy said. “We should go see if the others are still at the Magic Box. Maybe they can help us figure out some of this writing.”
 
“Sounds like a plan,” Spike agreed. They turned off the light and left the house, checking to see if the coast was clear.
 
“I wonder if this thing they built has a reverse button,” Buffy wondered as they strode along.
 
“Willow’s the science girl,” Spike said. “Maybe it will make sense to her.”
 
“If it does I guess we find them and take it from them,” Buffy reasoned. “If it doesn’t, I don’t know what the hell we do.”
 
“Don’t fret, Slayer. We’ll figure it out.” They got to the Magic Box in record time, only to find it deserted. “The one night they actually listen and don’t wait around for you is the night we could actually use them. Typical,” Spike grumbled.
 
“Let’s go home,” Buffy said. “We can figure this out in the morning. I’ll survive another night as you.”
 
“I guess I’ll survive another night on the couch, then,” Spike said. The night was clear and getting chilly, and after a block or two Spike gave an involuntary shiver that Buffy noticed.
 
“You okay?” she asked.
 
“Yeah. Just forgot about how cold it can feel at night. Don’t particularly notice the cold much when you’re a vamp.”
 
Buffy looked at the figure of herself, arms wrapped around her torso and shivering, and felt bad for Spike. “Here,” she said, pulling off the duster and putting it over his shoulders. “You’re right, I guess I don’t really feel it.”
 
“Thanks, love,” Spike said, gratefully wrapping the coat around himself. “Right thoughtful of you.”
 
“I don’t like to see you suffer,” she said. “Or me suffer, in this case.”
 
Spike snickered. “I think I’m starting to get used to the human thing, and then I remember all those drawbacks. It has been so bloody long.”
 
“Anything else you miss from your human days?” Buffy wondered.
 
Spike pondered that. “Food and sunlight were the big things,” Spike said. “Not too much else that I did then that I can’t do now.”
 
A question popped up in Buffy’s mind, and she had a few minutes of mental debate with herself before she finally blurted out, “Was sex different as a human?”
 
Spike blushed red as a rose. Shit. Harder to hide the embarrassment when you’re capable of blushing. “Drusillawasmyfirst,” he muttered quickly after a mortifying pause.
 
“You’re kidding,” Buffy said in astonishment.
 
“Like I told you before, I was a completely worthless git as a human,” Spike explained. “Died a sodding virgin. Never did more than kiss a lady’s hand before Dru found me.”
 
“Wow,” Buffy said, astonished. She couldn’t believe that someone as talented as Spike was in bed got nothing at all when he was alive. “And you were, what, 25 when you died?”
 
“I was 28, actually, but thanks for the complement,” he said.
 
“It’s just… you’re, um…” Now it was Buffy’s turn to be embarrassed, despite the inability to blush. “You’re pretty good… you know…”
 
Spike laughed. “I did have more than a century to practice, you know. Would be really pathetic if I didn’t get good at it.” He looked over at Buffy, who was clearly avoiding his gaze, wondering why she had started this whole line of questioning. “I guess you must be just a natural then,” he said with a grin.
 
“What do mean?” she asked with a hint of indignation.
 
“I just mean that given your limited experience, you’re bloody amazing,” he said. “I mean, you had Angel once, that college wanker once, and then soldier boy. And they all must have been completely mad to let you go.”
 
Buffy had been preparing an angry retort, but his last sentence stopped the words on her lips. “I guess… those guys and me just weren’t meant to be,” she said lamely. She lapsed into silence as they reached Revello drive, and they entered the house as quietly as they could. Buffy listened carefully, trying to make sense of the house sounds. “Sounds like Willow’s asleep upstairs,” she said.
 
“You’re getting the way of it, my dear vampire,” Spike said with a smile.
 
“Come upstairs, I’ll get you some pajamas,” she said. In truth she was reluctant to end the evening. She was enjoying the conversation, the easy banter with no arguments, the sincere complements, the occasional kisses. What are you getting yourself into? she asked herself, but no answer bubbled up. Spike followed her into the bedroom and closed the door behind him to keep from waking Willow.
 
Buffy rummaged in the dresser while Spike removed the duster, deep in thought. Christ I hope she’ll keep trusting me when this is all over. He couldn’t bear the thought of going back to whipping boy and scapegoat after being treated like an equal, like a friend. He caught his reflection in the mirror. Magnificent specimen, my Slayer, he thought. He felt like he could stare in the mirror for hours, pretending it was really her looking at him like she wanted him.
 
Buffy turned to notice him staring at the mirror and smiled. She was about to make some crack about vanity when she realized that he was looking at her face in the mirror, with a worshipful, longing expression. Did any of the others ever look at me like that? Spike realized he was staring and shook himself, turning to her with a crooked smile. Buffy held the pajamas before her, but her tongue suddenly tied itself in knots. “I…um…” Hell with it, she declared. She dropped the pajamas and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into a kiss and forgetting everything else. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, not me. 

Thanks once more to my reviewers who inspire me to nearly miss my train stop while writing!


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Chapter 14
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The rational part of Buffy’s mind was keeping up a litany of objections while they kissed. This is wrong. Very wrong. You’re kissing yourself, which is totally perverted, and you’re also kissing a vampire. A vampire with no soul, who has killed two Slayers. Hello? However, she found that portion of her brain rapidly becoming starved for blood as it all headed south. The sheer intensity of the need astonished her. She wondered how men lived with this thing with a mind of its own and the ability to override all the sensible brain circuits in a heartbeat. The only functioning neurons were directing her hands to tangle in her own blond hair and scour her own mouth hungrily with her tongue. Her rational mind screamed Wrong! once more before waving the white flag in surrender.
 
Spike realized that he was standing on tiptoe to better reach his own lips. Never thought I was that bloody tall, he thought distractedly. He was half waiting for Buffy to come to her senses, push him away and send him downstairs. But the longer they kissed the more unlikely that scenario seemed, and when he worked his hands under the black t-shirt to press warm human hands against her back she moaned softly with undisguised lust. The sound sent an electric shock down to his sex and he ground himself closer, looking for friction to ease his need. He broke away and tugged the t-shirt up and off before reaching for his own shirt. He stripped in a blur then reached for Buffy’s jeans. “Let me,” he breathed. “Let me make you feel good.”
 
“Yes,” Buffy gasped in reply. She lay back on the bed to make it easier for Spike to pull off the rest of her clothes, shivering in anticipation as her cock sprang free. Spike crawled up next to her and kissed her, working his way down her body. There was a definite advantage to knowing your partner’s body as well as he did, and he made sure to tease each and every one of his erogenous zones on the way. Buffy’s erection was rock solid and leaking by the time he made his way down to engulf her in his mouth. “Oh God,” she moaned, desperately trying to keep her voice down.
 
Spike grinned around the cock filling his mouth, then went to work in earnest. In the decades spent under Angelus’ thumb he had learned how to give good head when required, usually when Darla and Drusilla had gone off and Angelus was lacking for someone else to dominate. This was different though. To have control of the situation, instead of being forced and shamed, was a new experience, although having to breathe did change his technique somewhat. Having his nostrils filled with his own leather-and-cigarettes scent was weirdly comforting. The sight and sounds of his bed partner writhing and gasping in exquisite pleasure was immensely satisfying. He moved faster, swirling his tongue and sucking in his cheeks until Buffy exploded with a groan. He swallowed, licked his lips, and moved up next to her, grinning at her complete state of erotic overload.
 
“God… that… oh my God,” she panted. Her eyes were closed and her body quivered with the aftershocks. “What… how did… oh my God.”
 
“You don’t say,” Spike said with a chuckle.
 
Buffy finally opened her eyes and looked at him. “That was incredible,” she finally got out.
 
“Every man’s dream – being flexible enough to pleasure himself,” Spike leered.
 
“Pig,” she said, out of habit. Spike’s hand coasted downward again and took her in hand, stroking again. “What… what are you…?” She found herself getting hard again and glanced down with a surprised look on her face.
 
“Vampire refractory period, love,” he murmured, nibbling on her neck lightly. “Time you experienced it. Besides, not nice to leave your partner hanging here.”
 
Buffy frowned slightly. “I don’t think I can do… what you just did,” she said nervously.
 
Spike rolled on top of her and kissed her deeply. “I understand love,” he said. Then he knelt up and took her inside, sinking down onto her until they were completely interlocked. “Shit that’s good,” he said, closing his eyes and letting his head drop back. “So deep.”
 
Buffy’s hands found their way to his hips, although she still found it too weird with her eyes open. She felt this warm flesh moving over her and sighed contentedly. Spike reached down to stroke his borrowed clit as he rode her, and when Buffy realized what he was doing she couldn’t help but half open her eyes to watch. Spike noticed her watching, and it spurred him into a frenzy. Christ Jesus that is so hot. Buffy raised her hips to slam into him from below, once, twice, three times, followed by both of them falling into a blinding shared orgasm. Spike dived down to claim her mouth, both of them desperately trying not to scream in their ecstasy. Spike collapsed onto her chest, breathing raggedly and shuddering. Buffy wound her arms around the human form on top of her, reveling in the warmth and softness against her skin.
 
“You alright, love?” Spike asked after a few minutes, coming up onto his elbows and brushing the hair out of his eyes.
 
“Better than alright,” she replied. They rolled so they were side by side, facing each other. “How can what we’re doing feel so good?” she wondered. “This is just so messed up.”
 
“We’re built to live, you and I,” Spike said softly, running his hand down her cheek. “Whether we’re fighting or shagging, we do it full out. ‘S our natures. We may have come at it from different sides, but we’re a lot alike.”
 
The phrase We’re built to live resonated in Buffy’s mind. “I didn’t want to live. After heaven. But I think… I think now I do,” she said with dawning realization. “I want to live, and it’s because of you.”
 
“You’d have come out the other side eventually, Slayer. With or without me,” Spike insisted.
 
“You made it easier though,” she interrupted, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you for that.”
 
“Just… don’t forget me, when we switch back,” Spike whispered in a shaky voice. “That’s the only thanks I want. Don’t know if I could handle it if this all went away.”
 
“I won’t forget,” Buffy reassured him. They nestled into each other’s sides and held each other, content and satisfied.
 
***************************
 
Willow woke up around eight the next morning and found the house unusually quiet, as it always seemed when Dawn wasn’t home. She made her way down the hall to the bathroom, noticing Buffy’s closed door. She must be in vampire nocturnal mode or something. Willow hadn’t heard them come home last night. She took a quick shower and dressed, tiptoeing down the stairs to avoid waking Spike, whom she assumed would be sleeping on the couch. When she poked her head in and saw that the couch was empty her eyebrows shot skyward. Okay. Did Spike stay out all night? Or are they both...? Willow looked back up the stairs, wondering if they could possibly be sharing a bed. That’s just… no. They couldn’t be. She made coffee and fixed herself some breakfast, waiting to hear any stirring in the house. Maybe Spike got up early? Went for a run? She could not allow herself to ponder the implications of the two of them sleeping together, with or without the body swap problem. She was getting up to pour another cup of coffee when she heard a knock on the back door. Seeing Xander’s shaggy head through the window, she went to let him in.
 
“I decided to abide by the new house rules and actually knock for once,” he said. He looked around. “Buffy and Spike not up yet?”
 
“Um, I guess not,” Willow said uneasily. Xander looked confused as Willow nodded toward the living room. Xander went over and stuck his head through the door, then turned back with a confused expression. “Didn’t they come home last night?” he asked.
 
“Well, Buffy’s bedroom door is closed, so I assume someone came home last night,” Willow ventured.
 
“You don’t mean… they couldn’t be…that’s just wrong,” Xander stammered, horrified at the thought.
 
“I don’t know what went on last night,” Willow admitted. “Maybe we should just go to the Magic Box and wait for them to catch up.”
 
“Second that,” Xander said. “This is just one big ball of awkward wrongness rolling our way like something out of Indiana Jones. Time to run away.”
 
Willow jotted down a note, grabbed her bag, and followed Xander out the door to his car. “What do we do here?” Xander asked as they drove. “Does Dear Abby ever answer questions like, ‘My best friend is getting overly cuddly with someone who should be her enemy, oh and by the way they’re in each other’s bodies?’ Where’s the manual for this?”
 
“No idea,” Willow said. “Maybe when they’re back where they belong we can separate them somehow so that we can get Buffy to see reason.” Tara’s warnings about staying out of Buffy’s life echoed in the back of her brain. But this is different. They’re sleeping together. They’re sleeping together while they’re in each other’s bodies! We can’t just do nothing!
 
Xander replied, “It has to be Spike. Somehow he’s controlling her or corrupting her or something. Buffy wouldn’t…” He couldn’t reconcile the image of the Slayer, the one who nobly sacrificed herself more than once to save them all, with someone who would willingly engage in such a perversion.
 
“I think I figured out a way to get their auras back where they belong,” Willow said after a moment. “They’re going to have to cooperate though. And I don’t know if Tara is strong enough for this one.”
 
“I think this is enough of an emergency to allow you to use magic here,” Xander said. And the second they’re back where they belong I am taking care of this vampire problem once and for all, he added silently to himself.
 
*************************
 
Buffy woke up and stretched, then sat up suddenly when she realized that it was nine o’clock, and a still naked Spike in her body was still sleeping next to her. Shit. Wonder if Willow’s up already. She had meant to wake Spike and send him downstairs to avoid having to deal with a Scoobie freak out, but they had both slept like logs all night. Buffy got up and slid into the black jeans she retrieved off the floor. She quietly left the room, closing the door behind her. “Willow?” she called, but there was no answer. Willow’s room was empty, so Buffy made her way downstairs. On the kitchen counter was a note:
 
Xander and I went to the Magic Box. May have a way to fix the problem. Meet us there when you can. – Willow
 
Shit, shit, shit, she thought. Willow had woken up before her, for once, and had probably put two and two together. And to add to the joy, Xander probably knew as well and was probably having an apoplectic fit. “Goddamnit!” she growled, kicking the wall in frustration.
 
“Everything alright?” Spike said as he joined her in the kitchen, wrapped in her fuzzy bathrobe.
 
She handed him the note. “I’m sure Willow and Xander are in full-on intervention mode by now,” she sighed.
 
“Well, we could just blow them off,” Spike suggested. “Or have a spot of violence and blow them up?”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Hilarious. We should probably go over there together,” she said. “If you can help me get there without spontaneously combusting that is.”
 
Spike thought for a moment. “If we take your mom’s car then you won’t have to wander the sewers. Should be able to cover you up with a big blanket in the back seat. If I pull around back, it’s a short dash to the back door, usually pretty shady there as well.”
 
“Sounds like a plan. Breakfast first?”
 
“Most definitely. Never deal with angry mobs on an empty stomach,” Spike said.
 
“I can make you an omelet, if you like,” Buffy offered.
 
“I wouldn’t say no to that,” Spike said, salivating slightly.
 
Buffy got out the ingredients and whipped up a cheese omelet while Spike poured coffee for them and blood for her. They were soon sitting down to share their meal, and Buffy remarked, “It’s so quiet without Dawn and the others around.”
 
“Enjoy it while it lasts, say I,” Spike answered around a mouthful of food. “This is bloody delicious. How did you have time to learn how to cook in between hunting all us demon folk?”
 
Buffy shrugged. “I have a pretty limited repertoire, but my mom taught me some stuff.” They finished their breakfast and went upstairs to get dressed. As she watched Spike dealing with her hair she said, “I hope that I can get them to calm down, even after we get switched back. Getting tired of managing their freak outs in addition to my own.”
 
“You’ll do just fine, pet,” he assured her. “Just let me know what I can do to help.”
 
“Just restrain me before I strangle anyone,” she replied.
 
“Done,” Spike said, putting down the hairbrush. “And now, shall we have a lesson in dashing through the sun?”
 
“Lead on, MacDuff.” Spike chose the thickest blanket from Buffy’s bed and instructed her to make sure her hands were covered too. He opened the car door and she dashed in, huddling in the back seat on the floor. Spike tucked the quilt in carefully around her, closed the door, and got into the driver’s seat.
 
“Comfortable?” he asked with a grin.
 
“No,” came the muffled reply. “Glad I don’t actually need to breathe in here.”
 
“Won’t take long,” Spike said.
 
“Well don’t get pulled over,” Buffy admonished. “I don’t need the cops asking what’s under the suspicious looking blanket in the back.”
 
“Right,” Spike agreed. He drove conservatively through the streets to arrive in back of the Magic Box. After he parked he got out and opened the back door of the shop so that Buffy could have a straight dash inside. She moved with terrific speed, bursting into the main room and startling Xander, Willow, and Anya.
 
“You sure know how to make an entrance,” Anya remarked, a trifle wide-eyed.
 
“Don’t want to risk getting all barbecued,” Buffy said as she threw off the blanket and took off Spike’s duster. “This sunlight allergy is pretty nerve wracking.”
 
“You did fine,” Spike reassured her as he came in behind her.
 
“Where were you this morning?” Willow asked, unable to restrain her curiosity.
 
“Sleeping,” Buffy said shortly. “And right now, that’s not what I am here to discuss. We found something last night.” Buffy and Spike moved to the table and Buffy pulled the drawing they had found out of her pocket. “We found this in their lair, although they seem to be in the process of moving elsewhere,” Buffy explained as she spread the plans out.
 
“An Amnesia Ray?” Xander asked in disbelief. “What is up with these guys?”
 
“They had a list of planned heists – the electronics store, convenience stores, gas stations. Anywhere where they can hit people with this ray and blot out all memory of their having been there,” said Buffy.
 
“This ‘devil’s eye’ that they mention, I’ve heard of those,” Willow said. “They’re a gem that has a demonic power to it. Originates in some demon dimension. Usually you have to summon some demon and bargain with him for it.”
 
“Would that be enough to cause this effect?” Spike wondered.
 
“No,” Willow admitted. “But it could be used to focus a forgetting spell at a distance. These guys seem to know their magic and their demonology pretty well.”
 
“Well it looks like we’re going to have to find them to get this reversed,” Buffy said, shaking her head. “I just hope we can use the same gun to break the spell or whatever.”
 
Willow hesitated, then said, “I think I might be able to reverse things without the device.”
 
Spike and Buffy looked at her. “How’s that?” Spike asked warily.
 
“There’s this super-duper healing spell, meant to restore your aura if it is somehow damaged, by magic or curses or whatever,” Willow explained. “If we perform it on you when you are near each other, it could put everything back where it goes.”
 
“I’m not sure I like the word ‘could’ here,” Buffy said with a frown. “What will happen if it doesn’t work?”
 
“If it doesn’t work it just… doesn’t work. It’s like if I put ointment on a cut and it didn’t heal it.”
 
Spike and Buffy looked at each other. “Is it worth the risk?” Buffy asked him.
 
“Of course it is!” Xander answered, bewildered by their hesitation. “You can’t be stuck in each other’s bodies forever! And who knows when we’ll find these other guys. They could have taken their money and skipped town already!”
 
“Relax, Xander,” Anya said. “They’re just nervous because Willow’s spells tend to have bad side effects.”
 
“Anya!” Xander cried, but Willow interrupted him. Turning to Buffy and Spike she said, “Look, I know you don’t have a good reason to trust me. But I swear it’s just a healing spell. White magic, but powerful. I don’t think Tara has the ability, or I’d ask her. But all it does is heal broken auras. Nothing else.”
 
Spike and Buffy looked at each other for a long minute. “Alright,” Buffy said finally. “Let’s see if it works.”
 
Spike had his reservations. “Can I just see this spell for a moment? Really don’t fancy ending up worse off than I started.” Willow rifled through the stacks of books and notes on the table and passed Spike a large tome, together with some translation notes. Spike read through them carefully. “You sure about this translation, Red? These demon tongues can be tricky.”
 
“I cross checked it with this other book,” she responded, handing him another volume. Spike studied that for a while, with Xander pacing around impatiently.
 
“Am I holding you up, Harris?” Spike asked, annoyed. “Don’t really need to be here if you don’t want to be.”
 
“No, I think I need to be here,” Xander growled back. Not leaving you here to warp our friend even further.
 
“Chill, Xander,” Buffy said in exasperation. To Spike she said, “Well? What do you think?”
 
Spike sat back. “It should be okay. If it doesn’t work, it shouldn’t harm us.”
 
“Didn’t Willow just say that?” Xander snapped.
 
“Get bent, Harris,” Spike snarled. “The spell is being done on us, not you, and we don’t need any fuckups right now.”
 
“So what do we do?” Buffy asked Willow.
 
“We can set things up in the training room,” she said. Willow led them into the back, with Anya following. Xander lingered behind, rummaging behind the counter and slipping something into the pocket of his sweatshirt.
 
In the training room, Willow had Spike and Buffy stand facing each other in the center of the room. She lit incense at the four points of the compass, and made a ring of candles. Spike found himself growing a bit apprehensive as the preparations continued, and Buffy too seemed fidgety and nervous. “You okay, love?” Spike asked.
 
“Just nervous,” she said. “And I think your body wants nicotine. I keep forgetting that.”
 
“If this works I’ll go out and smoke a whole carton, save you the trouble,” Spike said, eliciting a small smile from Buffy.
 
“Okay, I think we’re ready,” Willow said at last. “You two need to link hands.” They reached out to each other and held hands, and Xander was alarmed at the way Spike tenderly ran his thumbs over Buffy’s fingers, reassuring her. This has gone far enough, he thought. He buried his hands in his pocket and fiddled nervously with the object there. Willow began chanting, holding her hands out toward them as if in blessing. “Restored to form, as was before, healing come to soul and mind…”
 
A faint glow surrounded Spike and Buffy, starting at their feet and moving slowly up to encompass their whole bodies. They closed their eyes, finding the sensation soothing and pleasant. The others watched with wide eyes as the glow grew brighter, filling the room with a rainbow of colors. “So mote it be!” cried Willow, and the colors brightened blindingly for a moment, then faded. Buffy slowly opened her eyes to find that she was still staring into her own face. The spell hadn’t worked.
 
Spike began saying, “That was an interesting experience.” as he opened his eyes. “I guess we’ll… NO!” he screamed as Xander lunged toward Buffy’s back, the stake he had hidden in his pocket aiming straight for her heart.

TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters are Joss Whedon's.

Thanks so much to all my reviewers! Sorry about the cliffhanger! Hopefully this chapter will tide you over until I get caught up at work. 


****************
Chapter 15
****************
 
Buffy jerked around in response to Spike’s cry. She roared in pain and vamped as the stake buried itself in her shoulder, missing its target by about three inches. She spun and instinctively punched Xander square in the face, triggering the chip and causing her to sink to her knees, clutching her head and groaning.
 
Spike tackled the still reeling Xander to the ground, punching him twice more in the face as he bellowed, “What the fuck is your problem?”
 
Coughing, nose bleeding, Xander answered, “You’re under his control, don’t you see that? You need help, Buffy!”
 
“Not Buffy, asshole!” Spike snarled, grabbing Xander’s lapels and shaking him like a terrier shaking a rat. “The spell didn’t work! You almost killed her you motherfucking prick!” He dropped Xander with disgust, getting up and moving swiftly to Buffy’s side. She was still curled in a ball, moaning. “Easy love,” he soothed. He wrapped his hand around the stake protruding from her shoulder. “On three, yeah?” She nodded, gritting her teeth against the pain. “One, two…” With a sudden yank he pulled the stake free, causing her to roar in pain once more. Spike pulled her in to his chest, comforting her while he turned to the others and said, “Could one of you manage to get your heads out of your asses long enough to get something to stop the blood?”
 
Anya was the first to recover, and she ran into the bathroom to grab a hand towel. She handed it to Spike, who held it over the gaping hole in Buffy’s shoulder. “Should I go get some blood?” she asked.
 
“Yeah, that would help,” Spike said. Anya glared at Xander, shook her head, and left on her errand.
 
Buffy was still vamped, but her vision was finally clearing and she sat up somewhat, wincing as her shoulder and her head fought for attention. She fixed Spike’s yellow demon eyes on Xander and he unconsciously edged back away from her slightly. “Why?” she snapped.
 
“I didn’t realize the spell hadn’t worked,” Xander babbled. “I’m so sorry…”
 
“No,” Buffy interrupted, making her way painfully to her feet, shaking off Spike’s tender hands gently. She advanced on Xander, who kept inching away, crab crawling backward from the angry demon in front of him. “I want to know why you thought you could just stab Spike, in the back, with no provocation.”
 
“Buffy, look, something’s happened to you!” Xander cried. “Spike is the enemy! You would never be in any sort of relationship with him if you were yourself. You need help!”
 
Despite her injuries, Buffy was on him in a flash, causing Willow to gasp and move forward to help him. Spike held her back with a muttered, “Stay the fuck out of this, Red.”
 
Buffy had yanked Xander to his feet and pulled him close, wincing at the minor shocks this caused. “I am only saying this once. Nothing. Is. Wrong. With. Me. I can associate with who I want, when I want, in whatever way I want. Spike is not my enemy. Not anymore. If you ever touch him, or even think about hurting him, I will break every bone in your body. Are we clear?”
 
Xander went pale. “B… Buffy, it’s me! It’s Xander!” he squeaked. “I’m on your side, remember?”
 
“No, you’re not,” Buffy hissed. “People on my side don’t go behind my back and try to kill someone I consider a friend. People on my side don’t bulldoze their way through my life with no concern for my feelings. If you’re on my side, I don’t need any fucking enemies.” She let him go and turned back to Spike, staggering a little from the blood loss.
 
“Sit down, pet,” Spike urged, leading her to the couch. He reapplied the towel to her still bleeding wound. He glared at Xander. “You need to get the hell away from me. Now. She’s got a chip in her head. I don’t, and I could tear your fucking head off right now you bastard.”
 
“It was a mistake…” Xander began, but Willow put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Xander just… just go home for now, okay?” Willow said gently. “I’ll send Anya to you when she gets back.” Xander opened his mouth to protest again, but Willow shook her head. Spike and Buffy’s accusing stares caused him to swallow nervously, then back swiftly out of the room.
 
Buffy was still vamped out, massaging her temples while Spike tried to staunch the blood. Willow stood there shell shocked, unsure of what to do. “Get the first aid kit, for God’s sake,” Spike snapped at her. Willow scampered off to the office and was back in a few seconds.
 
She handed the kit to Spike and said, “Can I… how can I help?” Her voice was shaky, and she was clearly nervous around Buffy.
 
“Willow, just… go in the other room right now,” Buffy said quietly. “Please.”
 
“I don’t know why it didn’t work,” Willow tried to explain, but Buffy stopped her with a gesture. “Just leave me alone for a while,” she said. Wringing her hands, Willow went into the other room and sat down at the table, arms wrapped around herself.
 
Spike had Buffy take off her shirt, and he winced anew at the ragged hole in her back. Jesus Christ that was close, he thought as he cleaned the wound. A couple of inches and she’d be gone. Rage boiled in him anew as he thought about Xander. “Gonna kill that son of a bitch,” he growled.
 
“Don’t,” Buffy said in a tired voice. “Even if he deserves it.”
 
“You know I won’t do that to you, Slayer,” he reassured her. “But he’d better stay the hell away from me.”
 
“I’m not really in his Fan Club right now either,” she said. She grimaced as Spike started taping gauze over the wound.
 
“All done,” he said in a moment. “Why don’t you lie down for a moment? Anya will be back soon with the blood.”
 
Buffy did as he told her and carefully lay down on her side. “Makes me feel a little guilty for all the vamps I’ve staked over the years,” she admitted. “Hurts like hell.”
 
“Don’t be going soft on us vamps, now,” Spike admonished her. “Ninety nine percent of us need to be put down straight away. And if you don’t miss, it’s quick. Don’t need you hesitating and letting some demon have a good day.”
 
Buffy was slightly taken aback at the harshness of his tone, but then she noticed his hands. They shook slightly as they put away the extra bandages and such, and his borrowed human face was pale. “Are you okay?” she asked tentatively.
 
“Yeah,” he said in a near whisper. He kept his gaze averted from her, but she could see that his eyes were moist, and entirely too wide.
 
“Spike, look at me,” Buffy said, tugging gently on his arm.
 
He turned reluctantly to face her, and his eyes registered his fright. “I could have lost you again,” he said in a cracking voice. “Another three inches…”
 
“It’s okay,” Buffy soothed. Her face finally lost its ridges and fangs as she melted under his concern and distress. “You warned me. You saved me.”
 
“They won’t take you from me again,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard. “So help me God I will not let anyone take you from me.” Although the voice was hers, the menace and steel underlying it was pure Spike. “No one is taking you away unless you decide to go.”
 
“Shh,” she said as he dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his face. She looked at him, with his love and devotion for her shining like a beacon, and she knew. She finally knew exactly how she felt about him. “Spike, I love you,” she whispered. Spike froze, then slowly lifted his head to look into her eyes, his mouth dropping open in amazement. His mouth moved but no sound came out, and finally Buffy gently tugged him down to touch her lips tenderly to his. “I love you. And I won’t leave you.”
 
“Oh, Buffy,” he breathed, kissing her again. “I’m yours. Do with me what you will, but I’m yours.” They kissed again, only stopping when they heard the shop door ring.
 
Anya came bustling in with a brown bag from the butcher’s. “I got two pints. I hope that’s enough.”
 
“Should be fine for now. Thanks, Anya,” Buffy said, sitting up with a small groan. Spike handed her the first container and she drank it gratefully, even as she wrinkled her nose slightly.
 
Anya looked around. “Where’s Xander?” she asked suddenly. “You didn’t actually kill him, did you?”
 
“No, he is still alive,” grumbled Spike. “But if he wishes to remain so he’d better stay clear of me. He touches me or Buffy again and I will put his sorry ass in the hospital.”
 
Anya sighed. “Where is he now?”
 
“Willow sent him home,” Buffy answered, reaching for the second container of blood.
 
“I guess I should go talk to him,” Anya said. “Really, I don’t understand him sometimes.”
 
“You’re too good for him, demon girl,” Spike insisted.
 
“Well, he gives me lots of orgasms, so I guess that counts for something,” she said in her forthright way. “I’ll see if I can get him to see reason.”
 
“Most appreciated,” Spike said. Anya shook her head again and went into the main room. Willow was still sitting at the table, flipping idly through spellbooks.
 
“I can’t figure out what went wrong,” she said to Anya. “It should have worked.”
 
Anya shrugged. “Maybe it’s because their auras aren’t damaged. They’re just misplaced. If they aren’t actually broken, you can’t fix them with a healing spell.”
 
“I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” Willow admitted. “I just wanted to get things back to normal.”
 
“Well, normal is relative around here,” Anya snorted. “I mean let’s face it – most people don’t have vampires, witches, ex-demons, and Slayers in their circle of friends. What do any of us know about normal?”
 
“I sort of meant normal for us,” Willow explained. “I thought I could help fix things before anything got worse.”
 
“I don’t know. Other than the fact that they’re in each other’s bodies, nothing seems particularly bad. In fact, they both seem pretty happy for a change,” Anya observed.
 
“Yeah, but…” Willow began.
 
“But what?” Anya interrupted. “Are you saying that normal means they’re miserable? Because if that’s the case I wouldn’t want to be normal either.”
 
“No, that’s not what I mean!” Willow said, growing more confused by the moment. She struggled to put her muddled feelings into words, but failed. “I don’t know what I mean anymore,” she said finally, slumping back in her chair.
 
The bell rang again as Tara and Dawn entered. “Hey guys!” Dawn chirped. “What’s going on?”
 
“Willow tried to fix the misplaced aura problem with a spell, which didn’t work, but Xander didn’t realize it hadn’t worked, so he tried to stake Buffy,” Anya rattled off.
 
“What?” chorused Dawn and Tara. “Is she alright?” Dawn said frantically.
 
“They’re in the back room,” Anya said, and Dawn immediately dashed into the training room to see what the damage was.
 
“Anya, slow down and tell me again. What happened?” Tara asked.
 
Anya went through the whole narrative in her usual tactless style, while Willow grew redder and slouched lower and lower in her chair. “Anyhow,” Anya finished. “Buffy’s in the back getting patched up, and I should go home and make sure Xander’s nose has stopped bleeding. Willow, can you mind the store for a while?”
 
“Yeah, sure,” Willow said dejectedly. Anya grabbed her purse and left, leaving Tara and Willow across the table from each other in awkward silence.
 
“I didn’t hurt them,” Willow said, her eyes pleading with Tara to understand. “The spell didn’t do anything to them. If Xander hadn’t tried to stake what he thought was Spike, the spell would have just dissipated.”
 
“I know, Willow,” Tara said. “I guess I wish you had consulted with me first. Healing spells are my thing, remember? I could have told you it wouldn’t work for something like this.”
 
“How could I know Xander was going to go off like that?”
 
“Do you know what set him off this time?” Tara asked.
 
Willow chewed her lip. “He came over early this morning. Spike and Buffy were still sleeping. Together. In Buffy’s room. It really weirded us both out.”
 
Tara took a deep breath. “It’s weird but… Willow, it’s her house! Did you ever ask her permission before sleeping with me?”
 
“N…no…”
 
“Then for the love of the Goddess why can’t you leave her and Spike alone?” Tara cried. “Don’t you see how… how smothering that must be for her?”
 
“But I didn’t mean…” Willow began.
 
“I know you didn’t, but it’s got to stop.” Willow and Tara turned to see Spike and Buffy entering the room, a worried Dawn trailing behind. Buffy went on, “Willow, I need you to move out.”
 
Willow’s eyes got wide. “But Buffy… I’m really sorry! I promise to stay out of your business and…”
 
“No, Willow,” Buffy said firmly, and Spike squeezed her hand in support. “I need my own space. I need some time to figure out who I am now and what I want. And I don’t want my every move scrutinized while I do.”
 
Tears started welling up in Willow’s eyes as she said, “But I thought we were friends.”
 
“We are, or I think we can be again,” Buffy replied. “I’m not saying I won’t ever talk to you again. But I need my space and my privacy back. I can’t live under a microscope any more. I won’t.”
 
Willow looked to Tara for support, but Tara was shaking her head sadly. She looked to Dawn; surely Dawn would protest. She had practically been Dawn’s parent last summer! But Dawn shot her a dirty look before focusing worriedly on her sister.
 
“We’re going to go home now,” Spike said to Willow. “Tonight, if Buffy’s shoulder is healed up, we’re going out to find those assholes with the Amnesia Ray. If we need you, we’ll call.” Turning to Tara he said, “We might need your help. Do you mind coming with us?”
 
“Sure. Dawn, do you want to ride with me, or with them?” Tara asked.
 
“I’ll go with them,” the teen answered. She was chewing her lip with worry as she watched Buffy putting Spike’s duster with careful, pained movements. They made their way toward the back door, and Dawn and Spike both helped shield Buffy as they bustled her into the back of Joyce’s car.
 
Tara picked up her purse and headed toward the front door. She turned back to Willow for a second and said, “I’ll pack up your stuff for you, okay?” Willow nodded, tears making their way down her cheeks. Tara ached for her, but forced herself to turn and walk out the door, leaving Willow in the empty store.

TBC

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, and no one sends bushels of money my way because of my stories. Alas.

Thanks so much to all the reviewers who spur me onward!


********************
Chapter 16
********************
 
Buffy rode home huddled under her blanket, with Dawn in the back seat next to her worrying, leaving Spike to his own thoughts for a moment. She said she loved me, he thought wonderingly. Bloody miracle it is. His inner poet was already composing sonnets in honor of the occasion, but he reluctantly clamped down on all thoughts of celebration. Focus now, William. They’ll be plenty of time for basking after we get her healed up and our bodies sorted out. He prayed to whatever god would listen to a vampire that this blissful state of affairs would survive the reshuffling of their bodies.
 
They repeated the dash back into Buffy’s house on arrival, with Buffy smoking slightly as she threw the blanket off. “That is completely nerve wracking!” she groused.
 
“Another one of those things that takes a few decades to get used to,” Spike said sympathetically.
 
“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Dawn asked anxiously. She was nearly shaking with the idea that she had almost lost her sister again.
 
“Hey, it’s okay, Dawnie,” Buffy said, giving her sister a reassuring hug with her good arm. “It hurts, but I’ll survive. Especially if I have some more to eat.”
 
“One mug of blood, coming right up,” Spike said. Buffy took off the duster and sat down, awkwardly probing at her wounded shoulder with the other hand, assessing the damage. A knock came at the door, and Spike called, “Come on in, Glinda!”
 
Tara had a pensive look on her face, and Buffy felt for her. “Thanks for coming, Tara,” she said, nodding her thanks to Spike as he gave her the mug of blood. “I’m sorry to have to keep pestering you.”
 
“It’s no trouble, really,” Tara said. She sat down, looking subdued and drained.
 
“The thing with Willow’s pretty hard, huh?” said Dawn.
 
Tara nodded. “I miss her a lot,” she admitted. “But she needs to stop trying to run everyone’s lives to her liking.”
 
“Hear, hear,” Spike chimed in. “How about some lunch for the rest of us while we make our plans?” The others agreed, so the three humans made sandwiches, and Tara heated up some tomato soup as well. “Just don’t forget whose mug is whose,” Spike remarked as he passed Dawn her serving.
 
“Ew, gross!” Dawn squealed, moving her soup as far away from Buffy’s blood as possible.
 
“So, what’s the plan?” Tara asked as they munched.
 
“After lunch, let’s turn on the news and see if any more crimes have been committed,” Buffy suggested.
 
“Yeah, then what?” Dawn wondered.
 
Spike contemplated for a moment. “Tara, can you do a locator spell on them?”
 
Tara thought about it. “I can, although I may not be able to pinpoint things as accurately as Willow.”
 
“It would give us a place to start at least,” Spike said.
 
“If we track them down, what then?” Buffy asked.
 
“I guess we figure that out when we get there,” Spike shrugged. “If we can be quiet about it, we should be able to gain the advantage.”
 
“Let’s hope so,” Buffy said. “I don’t really want to get hit with that ray again. Who knows where we’ll end up?” They finished their lunches and trooped into the living room to turn on the news. After a few minutes a story came on about two gas stations within a mile of each other that had been robbed the night before. The clerks had once more been found in a state of confusion, with no idea who they were. “I see our boys are at it again,” Buffy said, turning off the TV.
 
“Do we have a map of Sunnydale?” Spike asked suddenly. “It occurs to me to wonder if there is any pattern to their attacks. Maybe we can anticipate their next move.”
 
“There’s one in the car,” Dawn offered. She ran out to get it and brought it back, spreading it out on the coffee table.
 
“The first one was at the mall,” Buffy said, circling that location with a pencil.
 
“Then they hit that convenience store over on Maple,” Tara said, indicating the spot for Buffy to circle.
 
“And the gas stations were here and here,” Spike said, indicating two more spots. The four spots seemed to be moving further out from the center of town.
 
“They seem to be heading out in a sort of spiral or something,” Buffy observed.
 
“So maybe their next hit will be somewhere in this area,” Spike suggested, pointing out a region to the north.
 
“What are the likely targets out that way?” Tara wondered.
 
“There’s more gas stations…” Buffy began.
 
“The Gold Rush!” Spike exclaimed. The others looked him like he had five heads until he explained, “Great big pawn shop that specializes in jewelry and antiques and such. They’re open until midnight on weekends. They have a lot of commercials during Passions.” The girls tried very, very hard not to snicker at the Big Bad Vampire with the sappy soap opera fixation, and nearly succeeded. But a little giggle escaped Dawn’s lips, to which Spike replied, “Watch it, you. I’ll have you know it’s a bloody interesting show.”
 
Suppressing her own giggle, Buffy turned back to the problem at hand. “That would be quite the target for these guys,” she said. “It’s sort of isolated, probably not a lot of staff, although the guard is probably armed I’m guessing.”
 
“How do they manage not to get caught by cameras?” Tara wondered. “Other than the loading dock camera at the mall, we haven’t heard anything on the news about anyone suspicious before the robbery.”
 
“Disguise, maybe?” Spike suggested. “Go in as someone else, zap the clerk, get them to turn off the camera, then do whatever?”
 
Buffy shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess.”
 
“Okay, I think I’ve got a plan,” Spike said. The girls listened intently, nodding their understanding. Buffy in particular thought, It’s should work. But when we take these guys out, what then? Can we switch back? And what’s going to happen to us after that? She swallowed down her fears and uncertainties, and concentrated on plotting their attack.
 
*****************************
 
“Hey! What are you doing?” Andrew squeaked furiously to Jonathan. “You can’t put the Star Wars and the Star Trek figurines on the same shelf! That’s some sort of sacrilege or something!”
 
Warren rolled his eyes for the fifteenth time that hour at the stupid argument. Their new lair was shaping up rather nicely. With the take from their first two heists they had had enough money for the security deposit on a two bedroom apartment in a quiet part of town. They had set up their newly acquired computers and were working on hacking into various security systems. The money from the most recent heists had gone toward furniture, in particular shelving for the large collection of science fiction memorabilia. It was looking pretty swank, but Warren was about ready to turn the amnesia device on his partners if they didn’t shut up.
 
“Fine,” Jonathan was saying. “It you’re such an expert, then you unpack everything. I quit.”
 
“Will you two ladies quit your bitching?” Warren grumbled. “Jonathan, are we all ready for tonight?”
 
“We should be,” Jonathan said. “Although all these glamour spells are starting to wear me out. Why do I always have to be the one disguised?”
 
“Because you know how to,” Warren replied. He failed to add that he wanted Jonathan to be the one to disguise himself and distract the clerk, so that if anything went wrong, Warren would be outside and safe from being identified. They had found that the ray worked from a reasonable distance and through windows as well. At the gas stations it had been painfully easy for Jonathan, disguised as a girl, to distract the clerk while Warren stood to the side, out of sight, and hit the clerk with the ray through the glass. Jonathan could then tell the clerk to turn off the cameras and open the door, and they could walk in and help themselves to anything they liked.
 
“Why do we have to rob a skanky pawn shop?” Andrew whined. “Why don’t we just rob a bank or something?”
 
“I told you, dipshit,” Warren snarled. “Until we get hacked into the bank’s camera system, there are just too many ways for someone to see us before we can zap the tellers. It’s too risky. The pawn shop has a ton of valuable, portable stuff that we can get rid of on eBay or wherever. Plus they only have the two cameras, and at night it’s just one or two guards. Piece of cake.”
 
“Have the first guys remembered anything yet?” Jonathan asked. He was secretly a bit nervous about that. The intention had been to cause temporary amnesia, but this seemed to be lasting a lot longer than Warren had said it would. It made Jonathan wonder what else Warren was wrong about.
 
Warren shook his head. “The latest news says that they’re still out of it,” he said. “Better for us.”
 
“Have you been keeping tabs on the Slayer?” Andrew wondered, busily arranging Star Trek figures in chronological order as they had first appeared on the show.
 
“Why?” Warren said with a shrug. “We know it worked. She’s not a problem anymore.”
 
“Seems kinda harsh to erase people’s minds forever,” Jonathan commented. “I thought it was supposed to be temporary.”
 
Warren shrugged again. “Who cares? I mean, they’ll probably get their memories back eventually. Personally, I have no problem with having no Slayer around to worry about.” Jonathan looked doubtful, and Warren added, “Relax, alright? So far, everything is going our way.” Warren turned back to his computer, and Jonathan frowned and went back to unpacking.
 
**************************
 
“So where are these assholes?” Spike muttered to himself. Tara was chanting while the rest of them watched the map of Sunnydale. A small bright light appeared in the air in front of Tara, then floated down to rest on the map.
 
“There,” Buffy said, putting her finger on the spot. Tara sat back, a bit drained, while Dawn drew a circle around Buffy’s finger. “They’re over on Sycamore Terrace.”
 
“Should we go over there and take them out?” Dawn said eagerly.
 
“Hold up, Nibblet,” Spike said. “Your sister can’t go over there right now in her current condition, and I don’t fancy knocking on their door and having them greet me with their Forget-o-matic 2000.”
 
“Maybe we do a drive-by during the day,” Tara suggested. “Then we can figure out where the best place is to lie in wait for them.”
 
“Good idea,” Spike agreed. “Want to come with, Nibblet?”
 
Dawn’s face lit up. “Sure! Just let me get my sweatshirt!” Dawn dashed up the stairs, leaving Buffy to turn to Spike with a slight frown.
 
“I don’t want my sister in danger,” she said.
 
Spike put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You know I won’t let anything happen to her. We’re just going to drive past and scope the place out. Besides, if we leave her out entirely, she’ll be more likely to do something stupid and dangerous.”
 
“Ok, but she is so not coming tonight,” Buffy said sternly.
 
“I’ll stay with her,” Tara offered. “The two of you work well together. We can be your backup if you need us.”
 
“Thanks, Tara,” Buffy said gratefully. Dawn bounded back down the stairs, and she and Spike headed out for their reconnaissance mission.
 
Buffy went to get some more blood out of the fridge, while Tara made herself a cup of a strange herbal tea that she found helped overcome the after-spell hangover. They sat down with their mugs of hot liquid and sipped contentedly. “How’s your shoulder doing?” Tara asked.
 
“It’s improving,” Buffy responded. “Vampire healing is about as fast as Slayer healing. Seems unfair somehow. Shouldn’t one of us have an advantage or something?”
 
Tara smiled. “I guess not.” She looked down into her tea. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
 
“Why are you apologizing?” Buffy asked. “You didn’t do anything.”
 
“I know. I just wish…” Tara’s voice trailed off for a moment. “I should never have let her try that resurrection spell,” she finished quietly.
 
Buffy looked down at her mug for a moment. “I suppose once you raise someone from the dead you start to think you can do anything,” Buffy mused.
 
“Yeah,” Tara said. She drank off her tea and sat studying the leaves. “I miss her. But I just can’t trust her right now. I want the old Willow back.”
 
“One thing I’ve learned is that you can’t get the old version of anything back,” Buffy said. “It’s like with computers. Once version two comes out, version one doesn’t work anymore. I guess we have to wait for Willow 3.0 and hope the bugs get fixed.”
 
Tara looked at her with a crooked smile. “I think that’s the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
 
Buffy smiled too. “Not sure where that analogy came from,” she admitted. “But that’s what I’ve felt like. I came back as some new version, and everyone was expecting the old one, and no one seemed to know how to operate me.”
 
“Except for Spike,” Tara observed.
 
“True,” Buffy said. “He just… he just listened, you know? Didn’t expect anything of me in particular. It was so easy to be around him, and so hard to be around Willow and Xander. Between their being guilty at me, and trying to fix me, and letting me know how much they hated Spike, I just couldn’t win.”
 
“I’m glad you stood up to them,” Tara said. “They needed a wakeup call.”
 
Buffy sighed. “I hope someday we can patch things up, but right now I just need a break.”
 
“I completely understand.” The two women got themselves a second helping of their drinks, and continued chatting while they waited for the others to return.
 
***********************
 
Anya found herself taking a deep breath before opening the door of her apartment. She loved Xander. She did. But she had to admit that if she was still a vengeance demon she would be putting boils on his penis about now. She squared her shoulders and opened the door saying, “I’m home.”
 
“Hey, Ahn,” Xander said. He was on the couch with an ice pack on his nose and a can of beer in his hand. Anya sat on the coffee table across from him and gently pulled the ice pack off his nose to see the damage. “How does it look?” he asked.
 
“Like you pissed off a supernaturally strong person,” she said matter-of-factly. She replaced the ice pack and sat down next to him. “Xander, we need to talk.”
 
Xander sighed. “It was an honest mistake! How was I supposed to know they hadn’t switched back?”
 
“You could have asked, you know,” Anya admonished.
 
“I just thought that I would have a better chance to rid the world of the bleached wonder if I caught him off guard,” he explained.
 
Anya looked at him with disapproval. “Xander, you do realize you can’t kill him, right?”
 
Xander winced as he repositioned the ice pack. “I guess I figured out it isn’t as simple as I thought.”
 
Anya rolled her eyes to the heavens. “No, I mean, you have no right to kill him. He loves Buffy. Buffy enjoys his company. You can’t kill him.”
 
“But she can’t be getting involved with him,” Xander began.
 
“Why?” Anya broke in. “Is there some custom I don’t know about where the male friends of a single woman get final say over who they are involved with?”
 
“No, but…”
 
“Xander, if you want Buffy for yourself, then by all means, break up with me and go ask her out,” Anya said, growing more irritated by the minute. “But if you intend to marry me, as you said, then you have to stop obsessing over other women and who they sleep with.”
 
Xander sputtered, “I don’t want…”
 
“Yes, you do. You always have,” she said, a little sadness in her voice. “I feel like I’m always going to be in Buffy’s shadow. You’ll probably skip our honeymoon so you can keep track of Buffy’s comings and goings so you can find something to disapprove of. You can’t beat her in a fight, and she’s never going to see you as more than a friend, so you’ve declared yourself her guardian or warden or whatever to make yourself feel better.”
 
Xander stared open-mouthed at Anya. He slowly put down the ice pack and shook his head. “Anya, she’s my friend. I can’t just turn my back on her.”
 
“And I’m your fiancé,” she said, standing up. “Here I am. I’m an ex-demon, and I color my hair, and I sometimes say things that embarrass you, and I give you good orgasms. Decide if you want me, or if you want your Slayer on a pedestal. And decide soon before one or both of us ditches you for good.” She spun around and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door.
 
Xander sat there, flabbergasted. A small flame of guilt and shame bloomed in his gut. She’s going to leave me. She’s really going to leave me. He couldn’t understand where Anya was coming from. He wasn’t obsessed with Buffy, was he? That’s Spike’s job. He’s one who’s always over at her house, always trying to get her to hang out with him. She’s so messed up these days. How could it possibly help to have a love-sick vampire mooning about? And vampires can’t really love anyhow!
 
Then Xander realized what he was doing. Here he was, having a serious discussion with Anya, who was all but giving him an ultimatum, and who was he thinking of? Buffy. He looked toward the bathroom door, and he thought he heard the sound of Anya sniffling. What would happen if she left? He looked around the room, imagining coming home to it empty, night after night. I’d still have the Scoobies, I guess. But would he? Buffy was pissed at him. Dawn was pissed at him. Tara wasn’t particularly chummy these days either. That left Willow, who was alternating between fighting the magic addiction and pining for Tara. Xander suddenly got a chill down his spine when he realized he could very well end up cast adrift, with none of his usual anchors.
 
The thought spurred him into action. He got up, swaying slightly as his aching head made itself known. He made his way to the bathroom door and knocked gently. “Anya?” he asked quietly.
 
“What?” came her muffled, hurt voice.
 
Xander swallowed. “I’m sorry. You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
 
The door opened and Anya came out, her face streaked with tears. “Do you really mean it?”
 
Xander took her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “I love you, Anya,” he said. “And I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass.”
 
Anya pulled away and looked at him. “So are you going to stay out of Buffy’s way?”
 
“I promise,” Xander said, his eyes focused directly on hers. “I don’t want to lose you. I’d be completely lost without you. Can you forgive me?”
 
“I think so,” she replied. Anya smiled then and pulled him into a kiss. She started to deepen it when her nose bumped Xander’s, causing him to yelp in pain. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Perhaps we should ice that a little more before we launch into the make-up sex, huh?”
 
Xander smiled and shook his head. “You’re one in a million, Ahn,” he said. “And I swear I’ll try to do better.”
 
“Please do,” she replied. Together they retired to the living room for more icing and discussion.
 
***********************
 
“We’re home!” Dawn called. Tara and Buffy were hanging out in the living room as Spike and Dawn came in from their quest.
 
“What did you find?” Buffy asked.
 
“Apartment building,” Spike reported. “Big black van parked out back – I think it’s theirs, based on what Willow saw in the security video.”
 
“There’s an alley nearby that we can ambush them from,” Dawn said.
 
“Um, there’s no we in this tonight, Dawnie,” Buffy admonished. “You’re staying here with Tara.”
 
“Aw, come on!” Dawn pleaded. “I can help!”
 
“Sorry, Nibblet,” Spike said. “Gotta agree with Buffy on this one. If things go badly, we need someone who can come after us. If we’re all there and we all get hit by their ray gun gadget, then we’re all screwed.”
 
Dawn threw herself onto the couch to sulk. “Fine. But you’d better not get hurt or I’ll… I’ll kick whatever’s left of you until my foot hurts.”
 
Spike smirked. “I guess I’ll have to risk that, Bit.” Dawn stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed the remote. The rest of the day was spent in tense preparations. Buffy gorged herself on blood, trying to heal her shoulder as fast as possible. Spike and Buffy discussed tactics, with Buffy reiterating that killing humans was not an option, which Spike reluctantly agreed to. Tara spent some time packing up Willow’s things for her, silently wishing that Willow would come to her senses with every box. The boxes were placed on the back porch – she would call Willow later to come get them. The four of them began to get restless as they waited and waited for sunset.
 
“We should have some dinner,” Tara said after she finished with Willow’s things.
 
“Can’t fight nerds on an empty stomach,” Spike agreed.
 
“What are you going to do when you don’t have to think about food anymore?” Buffy teased.
 
“Start sampling local Slayers,” Spike teased back. “I hear they’re delicious.”
 
“Maybe I should take this body to the dentist and have the fangs pulled,” Buffy retorted.
 
“Oi! Not funny!” Spike cried. Tara laughed at their banter as she and Dawn went into the kitchen to see what to cook. They settled on a tuna casserole and got to work, telling Spike and Buffy to relax and save their energy for later.
 
“Maybe you should change into something dark,” Buffy suggested, seeing that Spike was wearing a white sweater.
 
“Good point. Not exactly stealth wear,” he admitted. “Mind showing me where the stealth wear lives in that clothing store you have upstairs?” They both went upstairs and Buffy picked out black jeans and a black turtleneck. “How’s the shoulder?” he asked as he changed.
 
Buffy shrugged. “Still sore, but I think it will be okay,” she replied. “The one time I’m grateful vamps heal so fast. It’s kind of a pain in the ass when you’re trying to kill them otherwise. But still, I hereby apologize for all the times I staked someone and didn’t kill them outright.”
 
Spike pulled the turtleneck down over his head and freed his face to look at Buffy. “I will genuinely kick your ass if you start feeling sorry for us vampires, you know that, right?”
 
“You can try,” Buffy said with a smirk. “Besides, I can’t live in your body for all this time and not be a little sympathetic.”
 
Spike grabbed Buffy’s upper arms and pulled her close. “I won’t watch you get killed again,” he said, his face serious and determined. “Won’t go through that again. You told me you loved me. Well I hope you knew what you were doing, because you’re bloody well stuck with me, Slayer.”
 
“Relax, it’s okay,” Buffy said, silencing him with a kiss. “I get it – vamps bad. And I’m truly not bent on self destruction anymore. You’ve convinced me to stick around.”
 
Spike smiled and kissed her in return. “Good. Because God help me, I do love you, stubborn bint that you are. You and the Bit. Plan to look after you two good and proper if you’ll let me.”
 
“I think that might be arranged,” Buffy responded. “But first, let’s go eat dinner and get back into our bodies.”
 
“Agreed.” Spike stole one more quick kiss, then led her downstairs.
 
Dinner was served, and Spike raved once more about it. Dawn laughed as Spike crooned over the casserole. “I get the feeling we could put five day old pizza in front of you and you’d be happy,” she remarked.
 
“I’m a little more discriminating than that,” Spike protested. “But you have absolutely no idea what it’s like. You know when you have a cold, and can’t taste anything? Imagine that for a hundred years, then imagine that you finally got better.”
 
Tara whistled. “That must be quite a change,” she said.
 
“I guess if you have to eat blood all the time, having dull taste buds isn’t a terrible thing,” Buffy put in, eyeing her liquid dinner with a bit of a grimace.
 
“Actually, you can taste the difference in different people’s blood,” Spike said. “Older people taste different than younger people, women taste different than men, etcetera.”
 
“Ew! Different topic please!” Dawn protested, turning a little green at the thought. “I really don’t need a menu of ‘Yummy People Through the Ages’.”
 
“You’re right. Probably best not to know that teenage girls who started life as mystical Keys are the absolute tastiest,” Spike teased. Dawn gave him a dirty look, but he grinned and went back to eating.
 
They cleared dinner away as they waited for the sun to go down. Finally, Buffy and Spike were able to gear up and get ready to go. “Wish us luck,” Buffy said as she put on Spike’s duster.
 
Dawn came up and hugged first Buffy, then Spike. “Be careful, okay? I want you both back, bodies in one piece, and no deleted memories, got it?”
 
“Don’t worry, Bit. We’ll be okay,” Spike reassured her. Buffy and Spike looked at each other, took a collective deep breath, and left on their mission. 

TBC

Disclaimer: If I owned the characters, I'd be able to afford to write all the time. But I don't, Joss Whedon does, so I can't quit my day job.

Thanks again, reviewers. Truly you are the wind beneath my wings (giggle) 


*********************
Chapter 17
**********************
 
Buffy and Spike walked with superhuman swiftness as they headed for Sycamore Terrace. They prowled around to the alley and found the black van was still there. Scanning the alley, Spike found what he was looking for – a tree in a neighboring yard whose branches hung over the parked van. “There,” he said, pointing. “Up you get.”
 
Buffy eyed the branches above and jumped, amazed at how easy it was. Spike had a little more of a challenge, being shorter, but eventually they both were perched on a large branch overhanging the alley. Unfortunately, the alley also contained a rather rank dumpster, the stench of which assailed Buffy’s vampire nose. “Yuck,” Buffy whispered. “That dumpster reeks.”
 
“Yeah. Probably even worse with my senses,” Spike sympathized. “Lucky you.”
 
“Thanks for nothing,” she muttered. They lapsed back into silence and waited. They had decided that ambushing them inside the apartment was probably a bad plan. Between the fact that Buffy couldn’t go in uninvited, and the fact that they had no idea what other weapons or tricks they had in there, it was probably best to catch them on the way to their next target. After an interminable wait, at the end of which they were both ready to scream with impatience, they finally saw the back door of the building open. Grousing the whole time, Jonathan, Warren, and Andrew loaded a strange looking gun and a whole bunch of empty boxes into the back of the van before climbing in. They slammed the door and started the engine.
 
“Let’s go!” whispered Spike. They hung from the branch and landed as lightly as they could on the top of the van. Swiftly and silently, they lay flat and held on to the roof rack for dear life. The van moved off, giving them the confidence that they had not been heard. Given the constant petty arguing that Buffy could hear, even over the road noise, she wasn’t surprised. The ride was short, but harrowing as they clung to the top of the van, but their unnatural strength served them well. As the van slowed about a block away from the large pawn shop, they jumped off and dashed for cover in some nearby bushes. They worked their way through the brush to a point near enough to hear the Trio as they opened the back of the van and started getting their gear together.
 
“Ok, the cameras are on the inside. They might cover the door, but if we go to the east window we should be able to get a clear shot without being seen.” Warren said in a low voice.
 
“Can I carry the ray this time?” Andrew whined.
 
“No, I’ve got it,” Warren insisted. “Jonathan, time to get your disguise on.”
 
“Next time Andrew gets to be the girl,” Jonathan muttered. He closed his eyes and started murmuring in a low tone. Buffy and Spike’s eyes widened as Jonathan seemed to shimmer, then transformed in an instant into a dark haired woman. “This sucks. I can’t walk in these stupid heels,” he grumbled.
 
“Just shut up and get ready to go,” Warren said as Andrew snickered. The three of them moved off toward the store.
 
“What now?” Spike hissed.
 
“We go around the other side,” Buffy said. “See if we can tell how many people are inside.”
 
“Vamp out,” Spike suggested. “Enhances the senses. And it will scare the piss out of those little bastards when we grab them.”
 
Buffy concentrated for a moment and the demon sprang forth. Spike was right – everything was suddenly sharper, louder, and more crisp somehow. They ran, keeping to the shadows until they had come around the opposite side of the building. They flattened themselves against the wall, listening intently. “There seems to be only one person inside,” she reported.
 
They crept closer until they could see in a side window. They could see the clerk, flipping through a magazine behind a counter. They heard the bell over the door jingle and although they couldn’t see who it was immediately, they knew it had to be Jonathan. “You come up on this side,” Spike whispered. “If they try to get away, do whatever you can without triggering the chip. I’ll go around the other side and try to take out these two guys.”
 
“Got it. Be careful,” she warned.
 
Spike kissed her quickly. “You too.” He took off around the building in a flash of Slayer speed, and was soon just around the corner from Andrew and Warren, who were still arguing.
 
“Why do you always get to shoot the gun? I helped design it too!” Andrew said, trying to wrestle the gun out of Warren’s hands.
 
“Cut it out, already!” Warren snarled. “We’re going to miss our chance you moron!”
 
Spike took a deep breath and stepped around the corner. “Good evening,” he said. Andrew turned, his hands still on the gun, and Spike hit him with an uppercut that sent him flying into the wall of the store. Andrew went down like a load of bricks, leaving Warren scrambling to try to get the gun into position. Spike tackled him, punching him again and again, then wrestling the gun out of his hands. “Here, catch!” he called. Buffy was already running to join him and caught the gun as he tossed it to her. The momentary distraction was enough for Warren to reach into his shirt pocket.
 
“Astrangulo!” Warren cried and flung a handful of what felt like thread into Spike’s face.
 
“What the…” Spike began, but suddenly the threads grew in size, turning into ropes that twined themselves around Spike’s neck, slowly and inexorably tightening. He gasped and scrabbled at the magical noose, and Warren shoved him off with contempt.
 
“Not such hot shit now, are you Slayer?” he spat. Turning to Buffy he said, “And what are you going to do? Can’t do shit to me with that chip in your head can you?”
 
Buffy grasped the ray gun but had no idea what to do. If I erase his memory and we can’t figure this gun out, what then? she thought despairingly. Spike fell to his knees, desperately clawing at his neck, his eyes bulging in utter panic. Making her decision in that split second, Buffy grabbed the gun in both hands, set her teeth against the pain, and swung it like a baseball bat directly at Warren’s temple. Her head exploded in agony. She was blinded, completely blinded by the pain, and she felt a warmth running down her face that she realized was blood pouring from her nose. She stumbled toward Spike, feeling for him, trying to do whatever she could to help him.
 
Dying. I’m dying again. Spike’s mind flashed toward a scene from his youth. He had fallen from a boat while rowing with his friends, and he had come up underneath it and panicked. In the long minutes it took him to untangle himself from his clothes and find the surface he had felt this same terror. Can’t breathe can’t breathe God help me. He pulled and tugged at the rope but it continued that slow, torturous tightening and his vision started to go dark.
 
The door of the shop opened then and Jonathan came out to see what was going on. He had started on his ‘Could I use your phone?’ technique when he had heard the scuffle outside. He stood there dumbstruck, taking in Andrew and Warren lying on the ground unconscious, what looked like Buffy gasping as she strangled, and what seemed to be an extremely pissed off, bleeding vampire in full game face lunging toward him.
 
Buffy saw the hazy female form in front of her and grabbed him by the throat, setting off new bolts of agony. “Save hi..her. Now. Or I will erase your brain right now and drain your neck right here, you son of bitch.” Jonathan’s eyes grew wide and his legs trembled. He looked at Buffy, at his unconscious friends, at Spike, unsure of what move to make. Buffy growled and held the amnesia ray to his head, fighting desperately to remain conscious.
 
That did it. Jonathan wanted no part of the amnesia ray – that thing was way too unpredictable. “Prohibere!” he shouted, the disguise falling away as he did so.
 
Instantly the ropes around Spike’s neck vanished. Spike fell forward on his hands and knees, breath whistling painfully through his bruised windpipe. Fuck that hurts, he thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so utterly helpless. Dying once was quite enough for him, and he didn’t relish nearly experiencing it a second time. He slowly got his breathing under control and staggered to his feet. He lifted his eyes to behold Buffy, barely keeping her feet, covering Jonathan with the ray gun as he cowered before her.
 
“You… okay?” she said, trying to come up with words through the red haze covering her vision.
 
“I’ll live,” Spike said. He turned to Jonathan, “Not so sure about you,” he snarled. Then he hauled off and caught Jonathan with a hook to the jaw, followed by a series of jabs, sending Jonathan crashing to the floor next to the others.
 
“Thanks,” Buffy muttered. Then she too collapsed in a heap.
 
“Buffy!” Spike cried, wide eyed at the blood still gushing from her nose. He bent down and fished a bandana out of the duster’s pockets, trying to staunch the flow.
 
“What’s going on?” The proprietor of the shop had gone for his shotgun, and had come out to see what the noise was about. “What the hell? Are you okay miss?” He had no idea what to make of the three unconscious men, and he all but screamed when he saw the unconscious vampire. “What the fuck?”
 
Spike had to get Buffy out of there. Silently asking her forgiveness, he put his hand to his throat and said, “One of them tried… tried to…”
 
“Come inside, miss, we’ll call the police,” the man said. He turned to hold the door open for what he presumed was a damsel in distress.
 
“Sorry mate. I really am,” Spike said as he reached around and grabbed the shotgun with lighting speed, then gave the man a solid whack across the back of the head. The pawn shop employee joined the rapidly growing pile of unconscious bodies. Starting to become a problem around here. He dragged the man and his shotgun behind the counter and left, turning off the lights and closing the door, hoping that would keep the man safe until he woke up. He went to get the van, relieved to find the keys in the ignition, and pulled it up to the door. He found a bag of cable ties in the back, and used it to bind the Trio hand and foot before dumping them unceremoniously into the van and slamming the door.
 
He knelt at Buffy’s side once more. His own face looked terrible, a pale and blood-soaked monster mask. “Buffy?” he said, shaking her gently. He got no response, and he grew more and more concerned. “Buffy? Come on love. Time to wake up now.” She lay there completely unmoving, looking every inch the corpse she currently was. He put his arms under her and lifted, struggling to manage the much larger form, dead weight and unresisting. He bit his lip and strained under the effort, finding breathing still rather painful as he struggled to get her to the van. Finally he managed to get her into the passenger’s seat and buckled her in, where she slumped bonelessly in the seat belt.
 
He ran around and started the car, making his way back toward the Trio’s lair. Andrew started to wake up and moaned, “What’s going on? Where are we?”
 
“You’d better keep your goddamn mouth shut,” he snarled. “Or you’re going to think I was gentle earlier.” Andrew’s eyes grew wide and frightened, and he wisely said nothing more.
 
When they reached the apartment Spike parked in the alley. He came around back and grabbed Andrew by the throat. “Keys,” he growled.
 
“They’re in my front pocket,” Andrew squeaked. Spike fished them out, then yanked Andrew upright.
 
“I am going to ask you this only once,” Spike asked. “How does that ray work? Can you undo what it does?”
 
Andrew made a show of not talking, but Spike twisted his arms up behind his back until Andrew cried, “Yes! You just have to reverse the crystals!”
 
“You’re coming upstairs with me, and you are giving me every scrap of information you have about this thing,” Spike ordered, putting the gun to Andrew’s temple. “And if you don’t I will use this on you. Now I’m going to cut your feet loose. Don’t do anything stupid.”
 
Andrew had all but wet himself at this point, and so Spike had no trouble whatsoever getting him up to the apartment. “The plans are on the desk,” Andrew said in a shaky voice. Spike rifled through the desk and found what he wanted.
 
“Now sit down,” Spike snarled. Andrew complied, and grabbing a roll of duct tape, Spike all but mummified the terrified boy. Spike took the papers and the gun and left him, coming back a few minutes later with a conscious and equally terrified Jonathan, who was similarly immobilized. Another trip took longer, but eventually Spike returned, dragging an unconscious Warren who was bleeding from a fresh wound to his other temple. “This asshole tried to sell you two out. Offered me all sorts of money and whatnot if I let you take the blame and let him go. Just thought you might want to know.” Warren was also bound, slumped in a chair. Spike stepped back to survey his handiwork, then picked up the phone and dialed 911. He gave the address of the apartment, and told the police that they would find the robbers who had hit the electronic depot there. Then he hung up the phone and said, “Have fun, gentlemen,” before walking out the door.
 
He climbed back in the van to find Buffy still unmoving. “Come on, love. You’ve got to wake up. Buffy, please…” he stroked her face, trying to get some sort of response, but his efforts went nowhere. He started the van and drove it as fast as he dared back to Revello Drive. He pulled up in front of the house and hefted Buffy out of the car once more, lugging her up the walk.
 
The door flew open and Tara and Dawn came rushing out, having been keeping vigil by the window. “What happened?” Dawn cried.
 
“Tara, help me!” Spike said. “Grab her feet, help me get her onto the couch.” Together the three of them managed to settle the pale form of Spike’s body onto the sofa.”
 
“Oh my God, is she alright? What happened?” Dawn repeated, frantic with worry.
 
“She had to attack one of them to save me,” Spike explained. Tara brought him a wet washcloth and some towels and he started mopping up the blood and cleaning her face. “I think… she must have burst a blood vessel when the chip fired. I’ve had a couple of nosebleeds, but never anything like this.” He winced as he thought of the agony she must have experienced.
 
“Did you get the gun? Did you stop them?” Tara asked.
 
“Their ray gun is in the front seat of the car,” Spike said. “Go get it but don’t mess with it, for the love of God.” Tara ran and got the strange weapon, storing it temporarily in the weapons chest.
 
“Spike, why won’t she wake up?” Dawn whimpered, stroking the curly blond hair of the unconscious vampire form.
 
“Dunno, Bit,” he said softly. “Just going to take a little time to heal I think. Need to get some blood in her.”
 
“I’ll get some,” Tara offered. She bustled into the kitchen to get it while Spike continued his ministrations.
 
Dawn looked up at Spike and noticed the bruising peeking out from beneath the turtleneck he wore. She reached up and pulled it down slightly, gasping at the obvious rope marks. “Jesus, Spike, what happened to you?”
 
“That Warren asshole did some mojo, damn near strangled me,” he growled. “That’s why Buffy had to deck him.” He shivered a bit at the memory, in spite of himself. He had done without the need for oxygen for a lifetime or two or three, thank you very much. To be dependent on it all of a sudden and then to have said oxygen supply cut off had been terrifying. Gonna be seeing that in my nightmares for a while.
 
Tara came back in with the steaming mug, and passed it to Spike. He slipped an arm under Buffy and pulled her up to a more upright position. “Drink up, pet. Need you well,” he said. But even though her nostrils flared a little at the smell of the blood, there was otherwise no response. After a few minutes he asked Tara for a spoon, and poured small spoonfuls directly down her throat. She swallowed reflexively, and he managed to get about half the mug into her before it was clear that no more could be accomplished at the moment.
 
“Is it enough? Will it help?” Dawn asked.
 
“Need to just wait and see, Nibblet,” Spike said. “Some injuries take time to heal.” He thought back to his broken back. He had spent months in a wheelchair waiting for that to heal. What if it really is brain damage? he wondered. That could take years to heal. He had seen vamps get major head injuries, but usually some other vamp finished them off, or left them behind, since lugging a corpse around tended to cramp one’s style. He truly had no idea how long it could possibly take, and the thought frightened him more than he would admit. Swallowing his fears he said, “Let’s get her upstairs to her room, make her more comfortable. Then we can figure out what to do next.” The three of them managed to wrestle the pale body upstairs and into Buffy’s bed. Spike got the duster off her, and took the t-shirt off as well, seeing that it was utterly soaked with blood. They covered her with the quilt and left her there, going back downstairs.
 
“What’s the plan now?” Tara asked. She could see the apprehension in Spike’s whole demeanor, and it worried her.
 
“Let’s take a look at that ray gun,” Spike decided. They put the gun on the dining table and took a look at it. Three screws seemed to hold the housing on, and Dawn fetched a screwdriver so they could see the inside. When Spike removed the cover, they found two crystals inside, surrounded by an intimidating tangle of wires. One was a large diamond, the other a peculiar red and orange gem that seemed to flicker as they looked at it. “The little twerp told me that to reverse the effect you needed to switch the crystals around.”
 
“How?” Tara asked. “There’s so many connections in there.”
 
“Nibblet, there’s a pile of papers next to the driver’s seat of that van. Can you grab it for me?” Dawn ran out, found the pile of plans and drawings from the Trio’s apartment, and spread it out on the table next to the disassembled gun. The three of them scrutinized the drawings and jottings for the better part of an hour, growing more frustrated by the moment. “Can’t make sense of this at all!” he yelled at last, completely angry with himself.
 
“You’re a guy!” Dawn said. “Aren’t guys supposed to be good with mechanical things? You didn’t have shop in high school or something?”
 
“Didn’t have shop in my time,” Spike replied. “Studied Latin and Greek and Rhetoric and all that rot. Mechanical stuff was never my forte, and it’s not like electronics existed.”
 
“Willow could fix it,” Tara said quietly. The others looked at her. “I know you’re a bit mad at her right now, but she could fix it. She’s g… good at these things.”
 
“Can we trust her?” Dawn asked. “She hasn’t been the most helpful person on the planet lately.”
 
Spike sighed and looked at the incomprehensible pile of drawings. “I hate to admit it, but Glinda’s right. Red could probably figure this out in thirty minutes.”
 
“But what about your body, Spike?” Dawn persisted. “How are you going to switch back if your body’s all messed up?”
 
“We’ll worry about that later. First, we need to get this gun switched around.” He turned to Tara. “Where would Willow go to spend the night?”
 
Tara thought. “Probably her parents’ house. But I don’t know if you should call her at this hour. If you wake up her folks it’s going to be more questions that we don’t want to deal with.”
 
Spike ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Fine. We wait until morning. Let’s get some sleep. I’ll stay with Buffy, see if I can’t get some more blood into her.”
 
“Can I… can I be with her too?” Dawn pleaded.
 
Spike sadly shook his head. “Bit, if she comes too and isn’t... herself, I don’t know what would happen. Still a demon in there, even with your sis, and if there’s any… any damage, to the brain, she might not be able to control it.” Spike’s voice faltered as the realization sunk in about how screwed they both were. Either I leave the woman I love trapped in a body that may be damaged beyond repair, or I doom myself to that body and end up leaving her anyhow. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
 
Tears welled in Dawn’s eyes. “We’ve got to fix this!” she cried.
 
“Shh, Dawnie,” Tara said. She wrapped Dawn up in a comforting hug. “It’ll be okay. But get some rest now, alright?”
 
“Okay,” Dawn sniffled. “Will you let me know if she wakes up?”
 
“Of course I will,” Spike said. “Mind Tara now, and get some rest. That’s an order.” Dawn nodded and closed her bedroom door behind her. “You might as well get some sleep too, Glinda. Not much you can do here right now.”
 
“Do you think you should restrain her in some way?” Tara asked. “In case she wakes up all…”
 
Spike ran his hands through his hair. “Suppose I should,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll take care of it.”
 
“I’m right across the hall if you need me,” Tara said. Spike nodded and went back into Buffy’s room, shutting the door behind him.
 
Spike found it very strange to be looking at himself, lying inert and unmoving. His face was so pale from the blood loss that it seemed almost translucent, and his ridges and fangs looked completely at odds with the blond curls peppering his forehead. As a child his mother and his aunts used to constantly fawn over his curls, to the point where he did everything he could to tame them, to avoid the teasing from the other boys. But here it was so incongruous – the boyish curls and pale Greek statue skin with the gargoyle’s face. He pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down, stroking the ridged face, speaking low and soft. “Buffy, love. You still in there? Need you to hang on, yeah? Bit needs you . I need you. We’re going to get you out of there, I promise you. Won’t leave you trapped in darkness. I promise.” He fought back tears as his words went unheeded.
 
With a heavy heart he got up and rummaged in Buffy’s closet until he found some belts. He firmly tied her to the bed frame, hating to heap more abuse on her, but fearing for the safety of the others if he couldn’t contain her. He padded down to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with more blood that he tried to coax into her. This time he managed to get about three quarters of the blood down her throat, and he thought she may have actually twitched a bit toward the end, but he wasn’t sure. He put the blood down and lay down beside her, resting his head on the cold, unmoving chest. “I love you, Slayer. Don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s true all the same.” He found himself wishing he had a soul to sell in exchange for an answer. 

TBC

Disclaimer: All the vampires are Joss Whedon's, not mine.

Thanks to my reviewers, I have been inspired! Thanks to being between major assignments, I have time to write! The stars have aligned. 

*****************
Chapter 18
*****************
 
Spike woke an hour or so later, having succumbed to exhaustion after the long evening. He lifted his head to look at his bed partner, but Buffy hadn’t moved an inch. He got up and went to get some more blood. The clock on the microwave said 3 a.m., and he rubbed his hands over his tired face as he waited for the microwave to finish. He made his way back upstairs and tried once more to get some blood into Buffy. This time she definitely swallowed by herself, and Spike was able to get the whole mug into her, but she was still comatose otherwise. He put the mug on the bedside table and looked at her, stroking her hair and thinking. Slayer blood would probably do it, he thought. The pig blood will help, but it’s going to take forever. He pondered what would happen if he tried it. If the demon overpowered him, if he couldn’t make it stop, the demon could drain Buffy’s body and leave them with two corpses and nowhere for either of them to return to. Not a pretty picture, that, he concluded. Without knowing her mental state, and with no conscious being controlling the demon, he really wasn’t sure what would happen. And if the chip fired again for whatever reason? He didn’t know if his body could actually dust from the brain damage, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
 
He put both his hands in his hair and pulled at it in frustration. He wanted to smash something, kill something, or hell, at least be able to drink a large quantity of something without instantly getting shitfaced. Helpless was not something Spike did well, and it chafed him to no end. Clamping down on his destructive urges, he lay back down next to Buffy and resumed his vigil.
 
When he next woke it was nearly five o’clock, and he went down to get yet more blood for the Slayer. Again he managed to get it in her, but otherwise there was no change. She was perhaps slightly less pale, that was about it. After sitting with her a while longer, talking to her in a low voice about any nonsense that came to his head, he had to take a break. He took the dirty mugs back to the kitchen and put them in the sink. The sky was starting to get a bit lighter outside, and he went out on the back porch to watch. He sat there, in what he thought of as Buffy’s spot, and watched the world come to life around him.
 
He had heard some vampires, usually when they were deep in their cups, wax rhapsodic about their last sunrise and how amazing it had been. Personally, he always thought it was utter bollocks. He couldn’t vividly remember the last sunrise he had seen. In London in 1880 there was so much smoke and fog and whatnot that you were lucky to see the sun at noon some days, and he had never been a particularly early riser. Besides, it wasn’t like you were taking notes every day, on the off chance you might get turned into a vampire that night. But as he sat in the warming California air he found that he couldn’t look away from the sky. Black faded to a deep, deep blue, and then to a pale bluish gray. Low bands of purple and pink framed by scattered clouds appeared and grew, followed by a warm orange glow. All else was forgotten as he sat there, transfixed as the sun grew and expanded to gild the trees. His lips parted in a nameless anticipation as the sun finally got free of the tree line and bathed the world in a honey colored glow. It was hands down the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he felt both humbled by and grateful for the gift.
 
“Spike?” He turned to see Dawn at the kitchen door with a worried look on her face.
 
Spike took one last long look at the sunrise got to his feet. “Morning, Nibblet,” he said in a tired voice.
 
“I looked in her room and couldn’t find you, and I got worried,” Dawn said, with a slightly accusatory tone.
 
“Didn’t mean to worry you,” Spike said. “Just needed a little break. Ended up watching the sunrise.”
 
“How’s Buffy?” Dawn asked.
 
“’Bout the same,” Spike answered, following her inside. “I got more blood into her a few times last night, but she hasn’t shown any signs of coming to.”
 
“What are we going to do?” Dawn wondered. She was nearly on the verge of tears.
 
Spike took her in his arms and comforted her. “Don’t take on, Bit. We’re going to call Red, and we’re going to get this whole body swap reversed, and you’ll have your sister back.”
 
“But what about you?” Dawn asked. “We need you. Buffy and I both need you.”
 
“I think… I think my body will heal, eventually,” he said, sounding more certain than he felt. “When my back was broken, it took months. A brain injury would probably take even longer. But I won’t leave your sister trapped in there while the body heals. I’ll be alright.” Dawn remained unconvinced, and buried her face back in Spike’s shirt, weeping quietly for long minutes.
 
After a while Dawn collected herself and sniffled. “Sorry.”
 
“It’s okay, Bit,” Spike reassured her. Dawn went back upstairs to get dressed, while Spike made himself some coffee. He didn’t have any appetite for anything else, but he was desperate for the caffeine hit. After he finished his second cup he made his way back upstairs with more sustenance for Buffy, bumping into Tara on the landing.
 
“Any change?” she asked anxiously.
 
“No,” Spike replied. “You’d better call Willow, see if she’ll help us out.”
 
“I… I’ll do that,” Tara said. She made her way downstairs, hoping and praying that Willow could and would help them.
 
Spike returned to Buffy’s bedside, hoping for some sign of, well, not life, but at least unlife. He was dismayed to find her face still vamped, and her body still unmoving. He fed her the blood, and was rewarded with a small twitch of her eyelids, but that was all. Whatever was happening in her brain was taking a fuck of a long time to get to the surface. He laid her back down, kissed her bumpy forehead, and went back to the kitchen once more.
 
“I know what she said,” Tara was saying to Willow on the phone. “But I am telling you we need your help!”
 
“What’s the problem?” Spike asked. Tara looked at him and threw up her hands. He took the phone from her and said, “Red. Do you understand our problem?”
 
“Yes, I understand,” came Willow’s voice, sounding hurt. “I understand that Buffy said she didn’t want me around anymore, and now you all want my help. How does that work?”
 
Spike fought the desire to reach through the phone and strangle her. “Willow, I was there. Buffy did not say she didn’t want you around ever again. She said she wanted some space and privacy to work out her issues. You say you’re her friend. Well right now, your friend is trapped in a badly damaged body, and you can save her. So put your money where your goddamn mouth is for once and help her.”
 
At the other end of the line, Willow hesitated, then said, “I don’t want to make things worse again.”
 
“I’m all on board with that,” Spike said. “But we need your technical skills. Are you gonna help us, or not?”
 
Taking a deep, audible breath, Willow replied, “Okay. I’ll… I’ll be right over.”
 
Spike hung up the phone with a bit more force than necessary. “Un fucking believable. Don’t need her, she’s in your hair twenty four hours a day. When you actually need her, she decides to back off. Bloody bint’s going to send me over the edge.”
 
“Take it easy, Spike,” Dawn urged.
 
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered. He kicked an innocent kitchen stool in frustration and stalked back upstairs to Buffy’s room.
 
*********************
 
“Ok, I think I understand,” Willow said. She had arrived about fifteen minutes after the end of their phone call. After some initial awkwardness, she had settled in at the dining table with the schematics and the gun, and soon was immersed in the technical details. She was now carefully undoing a series of tiny screws and carefully disconnecting wires to be able to switch the crystals without damaging anything. Tara and Dawn had watched fretfully, while Spike remained upstairs with Buffy. “It shouldn’t take that much longer to reassemble,” Willow said. “It’s a pretty neat design. Well, for an evil brain erasing ray that is.”
 
“I’ll go let Spike know we’re almost there,” Dawn offered. She went upstairs and poked her head in the darkened bedroom. “Spike?”
 
“Come in, Nibblet,” he said. “She’s still out.” He was sitting next to Buffy, holding her hand and stroking her face, willing her to show some sign of awareness.
 
“Willow says she’s almost done with the gun,” Dawn told him.
 
Spike nodded. He stood up and followed Dawn back to the dining room, where Willow was putting the last few screws in the housing. “How does it look?” he asked.
 
“Well, it should reverse whatever effect it had,” Willow said.
 
“Then we should get upstairs with that thing and get us switched back as soon as possible,” Spike said.
 
Tara interjected, “Spike, are you sure? If this works, you’re the one who knows the most around here about vampires, and you might not be able to…”
 
“I know,” Spike said quietly. “Won’t leave her like that. I’m expendable. She’s not.” He turned and walked up the stairs, clearly expecting the others to follow.
 
Willow stared after him, open mouthed. Just like that, he was planning to risk his own existence for Buffy. Without a moment’s hesitation or a backward glance, he was going to go up there and let her turn this gun on him, knowing that the best he could hope for was to be trapped in a possibly brain damaged undead corpse. My God, he really does love her, she realized. He could have taken off, killed anyone who had ever wronged him, anything. Instead he’s putting everything on the line for her. Willow wondered if she could do something like that for Tara. Could she set aside her power, with no hope of getting it back, to save the woman she loved? And what did it say about her assumptions if a supposedly evil creature could, unreservedly, while she hesitated?
 
“Willow? It’s time,” Tara said gently, breaking through Willow’s moment of revelation. Willow nodded wordlessly, picked up the gun, and with a deep breath mounted the stairs.
 
Dawn and Tara hovered near the door as Willow went in to where Spike sat once more at Buffy’s side. “How… how should we do this?” she wondered.
 
“Same way it all started,” Spike said. He rested his hand lightly on Buffy’s chest and looked once more at his own face, as he would never see it again. “Love you, Slayer,” he whispered. Then he bent down and kissed her. Willow hesitated for a moment, then set her jaw and pulled the trigger.
 
**********************
 
Dark. Why was it so dark? Where is everyone? Spike? Buffy had blacked out from the enormous electrical shocks sent through her brain by the chip. Gradually she had become somewhat aware, but unable to move or speak. She had heard faint sounds around her, but they had no meaning. A sensation of movement had occurred, interspersed with periods of stillness. Then she was still, and remained so, but nothing made sense.
 
The demon screamed inside her when the scent of blood reached her nostrils, but she couldn’t figure out how to move, how to drink. Blood somehow got into her throat, and she swallowed, but she could control nothing of her body, and it terrified her. Spike. I’m in here. Please help me. I don’t know what happened. Please.
 
The scent of blood came and went, and time spun out meaninglessly. After a number of feedings she heard a low murmur that sounded somehow familiar, but the words still made no sense. Spike. Get me out of this. Please. She tried to find something to flex to make something happen, but she was floating in an abyss that she couldn’t fathom.
 
Then suddenly she felt a strange, yet somehow familiar sensation. An explosion surged through her, like with the chip but without the agony. She felt like she was being pulled somewhere like electricity through a wire. Sensation flooded back and she felt warm, and the scent of cigarettes filled her nostrils, and her lips were wet and moving on something. She gasped and opened her eyes to see the face of Spike below her, eyes closed, lips parted. “What? Where…?” she said, looking around in complete bewilderment.
 
“Buffy?” Dawn said cautiously. “Are … are you …?”
 
Buffy stood and turned, swaying slightly. “Dawn? Is it… oh God, I’m back!” Dawn ran over to throw herself happily into Buffy’s arms as she and Buffy both laughed and cried in relief. After a minute Buffy turned back to Spike. “Spike? Spike?” She shook him slightly, and getting no response turned back to the others. “What happened? What’s wrong with him?”
 
“Don’t you remember?” Tara asked. “You were taking down those three guys and the chip went off.”
 
Buffy’s eyes widened as the memory came back. “I blacked out. I hit one of them… and then I blacked out. It hurt so much. And then I couldn’t wake up. It was like I was trapped and I couldn’t control anything and couldn’t say anything.”
 
“Spike thought there might be, um, d… damage. From the chip, I mean,” Tara stuttered, not wanting to break this news to her. “He d… didn’t want you to be trapped in his body. S… so he asked us to switch you b… back.”
 
“No,” Buffy breathed. She turned to run her hands down his face. Tears came to her eyes as she realized the sacrifice he was willing to make. For me. No one has ever been willing to give so much for me. Turning to the others she said, “We have to help him.”
 
“He thought that it would get better eventually,” Dawn said uncertainly. “But he didn’t know how long it would take. I mean, he said his back took months to heal.”
 
Buffy turned back to Spike and took in the ridged brow and the slightly protruding fangs. Spike always has control of the demon. If he’s still fanged out after this many hours, something must be seriously wrong. “Then I guess I’ll just have to look after him until he heals,” Buffy said quietly.
 
“Is keeping him here really a good idea?” Willow said doubtfully. “Can you handle him if he gets loose and he’s not in control?”
 
“I don’t care if it’s a good idea,” Buffy said firmly, looking Willow straight in the eye. “I love him. When Tara got attacked by Glory you cared for her. This is no different.”
 
“But I wasn’t worried about Tara eating someone!” Willow protested. Wait, she loves him? Willow couldn’t get her brain around what she had just heard.
 
“Willow, I get it, you’re concerned,” Buffy interjected. “And I appreciate whatever you did to help me get back in my body. However, like I said before, this is my life, and I need to make my own decisions. I won’t let anyone else get hurt. But Spike stays with me until he’s healed. Period. Full stop.”
 
Willow took in what Buffy said. She loves him. And he loves her. Enough to sacrifice everything for her. The image of Spike, resolutely walking up the stairs to do whatever it took to save the woman he loved was looping through her brain endlessly. She realized that nothing she could say was going to change Buffy’s mind. “I understand,” she said finally. “I… I still worry about the consequences. But it’s your call.”
 
“Thank you,” Buffy said. She stepped a bit closer to Willow, lowering her voice slightly. “I just have to add though, if you try anything behind my back, any magic, any plots or schemes or interventions, I will cut you out of my life so far that it will be like we never met. Are we clear?” Willow swallowed and nodded. “Good. Now I’m going to take care of my man, and I need a little space to do it, alright?”
 
“Okay,” said Willow in a slightly shaky voice.
 
Tara put her hand tentatively on Willow’s shoulder. “I b… boxed up your things. Can I help you bring them out to your car?”
 
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” Willow said, offering Tara a faint smile. The two witches went downstairs, leaving the sisters alone with the unconscious vampire.
 
“How… how did he get the blood into me?” Buffy asked Dawn as she sat back down next to Spike.
 
“He used a spoon and sort of ladled it into your throat, when it was your throat,” Dawn answered.
 
“Can you get me a mug of blood and a spoon then? Buffy asked.
 
“Sure,” Dawn replied. She left to get the supplies while Buffy sat with moist eyes watching over her vampire. In a few moments Dawn returned and said, “There’s only a couple of pints of this stuff left. We’re going to need to get more soon.”
 
“Thanks, Dawnie,” Buffy said. She took the mug and the spoon and set it down. After propping Spike up on some pillows she proceeded to feed him as best she could. She fought back despair as she tried to get the blood into him, watching intently for any sign that he was coming back to her. Don’t leave me, Spike. I still need you so much. When the blood ran out she sat back, studying Spike’s demonic features, but seeing no change.
 
“Do you think he can hear us?” Dawn asked behind her.
 
“When I was in there I could hear sounds, but they didn’t make a lot of sense,“ Buffy replied. “It was like I was aware of my own thoughts, but I couldn’t do anything about it.”
 
“Were you afraid?” Dawn asked.
 
“Yeah,” Buffy whispered. She shivered a bit at the memory of feeling trapped and helpless, and wondered again at the fact that Spike would willingly go into that darkness for her.
 
Tara and Willow came to the door at that moment. “Did you see this?” Tara asked, holding the daily newspaper. Buffy came over and read about the apprehension of the three men who had robbed the Electronics Depot. Her mouth dropped open as she learned how an anonymous tip had led the police to their apartment where the perpetrators had been found, tied up and with the stolen equipment all around them.
 
“Did Spike do all this?” Buffy asked in wonder.
 
“He must have,” Tara said. “Things were so crazy last night, he never talked about what happened to the guys you went after.”
 
“We followed them to that pawn shop,” Buffy said, still reading. “I had to get them to stop trying to kill Spike. After the chip went off, I blacked out completely.”
 
“It says that one of them confessed to the other crimes as well,” Willow added. “I guess that means we don’t have to worry about them erasing anyone else.”
 
Buffy scanned the paper once more, then looked up. “Willow, if you understand how to use that thing, can you and Tara go to the hospital and fix the victims of the previous robberies?”
 
“Sure,” said Willow. She was faintly hopeful that this assignment was the beginning of a rebuilding of their friendship.
 
“When you’re done, we need to return that diamond, and figure out what to do with that gem,” Buffy added. “I think keeping that thing around is a bad plan.”
 
“I agree,” said Tara. “Is there… is there anything else you need from us?”
 
“No, not right now,” Buffy said, already turning back toward Spike. “If I do, I’ll let you know, okay?”
 
“Okay,” Willow said. She tried to hide her disappointment at being dismissed already.
 
Tara noticed Willow’s mood shifting and stepped in. “Do we want to take your car or mine to the hospital?”
 
Willow brightened at the thought of getting to spend some time with Tara and said, “I guess your car is less full of boxes right now.”
 
“Call me if you need me,” Tara said, giving Buffy, then Dawn a quick hug before following Willow downstairs.
 
“It’s going to be quiet around here for a while, I guess,” Dawn said awkwardly.
 
“I kinda need a little quiet,” Buffy said. “It’s been a bit of a rough week.” She sat down next to Spike once more, stroking his hair gently. “Can I just… have a little time alone? I’ll be down in a little while,” Buffy said.
 
Dawn understood her sister for once and said, “I’ll go work on my homework for tomorrow.” She closed the door behind her, leaving Buffy keeping watch over her vampire.
 
He could have killed them, Buffy thought, tracing the ridges in his forehead tenderly. He could have tortured them or anything else. He could have taken off for parts unknown. But he didn’t. She wondered anew at this vampire, whose demon she now knew all too well. Despite that demon and the lack of a soul, he had managed to do the right thing. “I’m not going to give up on you William,” she said aloud. “I know you’re in there, and I’m going to find a way to get you better. No matter how long it takes.” Resolved, she kissed him tenderly, and went to get him more blood.
 
**************************
 
After four days, Buffy was starting to lose heart. Dawn had been going to school, on time and with little fuss, while Buffy stayed home and fed Spike, talked to him, carried his unresisting body to the bathtub and bathed him, all the while hoping that today would be the day he woke up. In the evenings Buffy patrolled as quickly as possible in order to get back home to see if there was any change. She ate sporadically, usually when her growling stomach reminded her that it had been a while. She did her best to help Dawn with her homework and keep her company. However she found herself sinking slowly back into depression, not wanting to deal with the mounting bills, forcing herself to patrol and to interact with Dawn when all she wanted to do was curl up next to Spike.
 
The doorbell rang at around noon on the fourth day, and Buffy tore herself away from Spike’s bedside to answer the door. “Xander,” she said in surprise. “What can I do for you?” She hadn’t seen or spoken to Xander since he had stabbed her, and she was less than enthusiastic about dealing with him at the moment.
 
“Hey, Buff,” he said. His hands were in his pockets and he looked uncertain. “I just… wanted to see how you were. Willow said you were back in your body and all.”
 
“Yeah, I’m back,” she said. She found she had nothing else in particular to say to him.
 
“How’s Spike?” Xander asked.
 
“Still in a coma, or whatever you call it in his case,” Buffy said. Then she added, “And if you’re here to tell me how I shouldn’t be taking care of a vampire in my house or any of that crap, you can just go straight to hell. He sacrificed everything for me, and I’m not going to let him down.”
 
“I guess I get that,” Xander said. “I still get major wiggins about another vampire boyfriend.” He held up his hand quickly as Buffy opened her mouth to let him have it. “But I get it that it’s your call. And I just wanted to apologize for staking you the other day. That was… a bad thing,” he finished lamely.
 
Buffy crossed her arms. “I appreciate the apology, Xander. I know you’re trying to make things right. But I still have some issues to work out. I need you to leave.”
 
Xander nodded. “I understand. But Buffy?”
 
“What?”
 
“Don’t lock yourself away for Spike’s sake. Even Spike wouldn’t want you sacrificing your life for his,” Xander said.
 
Of course… Buffy’s mouth dropped open as a thought occurred to her. Shaking herself she said, “Thanks Xander. I gotta do something. Talk to you later.” With that she closed the door in his astonished face and rushed back up the stairs. She rummaged frantically in her drawers until she came up with a sharp, wicked looking knife. Slayer blood, she thought as she found the knife and moved over to the bed. It’s a zillion times stronger than animal blood, or regular human. That’s what he needs. She got onto the bed next to Spike, maneuvering so that she was behind him, his body resting on her chest, his head cradled in the crook of her neck. Reaching around him with the knife she drew it deliberately across her forearm. She held him close and brought her dripping arm to his lips. “Drink, Spike. I need you back, you stupid vampire. Drink.”
 
Spike had been drifting in the blackness for an eternity. The electric sensation of the amnesia ray had given way to numbness. He went from having a heartbeat, surrounded by sounds and smells and sights, to being trapped, unable to move. He sometimes felt sensation, warmth, and gentle touches, but he couldn’t quite figure out what they meant or how to respond. The demon howled inside him, and although he sometimes smelled blood, the demon seemed unappeased. So hungry. Buffy? Are you out there? He knew somehow that she was, but it was so hard to decide what the muddled sounds meant. He drifted in and out, with each period of relative awareness lasting a little longer. I’m in here. Please, I’m still in here, he thought in his lucid moments.
 
Suddenly the demon surged into overdrive. Slayer. The taste of that sweet, powerful blood trickled over his tongue, and he somehow found the ability to jam his fangs through the flesh pressed against his lips. He faintly heard Buffy’s hiss of pain as he drank and drank. Gods, yes. Fucking ambrosia. It was like being a fledge again, with the hunger driving him to swallow, and swallow, sating that deep seated need.
 
Buffy found the initial pain giving way to that strange, erotic sensation she had experienced when Angel had drank from her. Why does this feel good? Makes no sense, but oh God… She threw her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the heat rush to her sex, and she felt she could come from this sensation alone. But after a few minutes she realized that she was getting weaker. “Spike… Spike you need to stop…”she pleaded.
 
Buffy? Her words penetrated his brain clearly for the first time since he had reoccupied his body. He struggled inwardly to gain control over the demon. Back off already! he screamed silently in his mind. Finally, with a herculean effort, he forced his human face to the fore, and the fangs retracted out of Buffy’s arm.
 
Gasping, Buffy scrabbled for the end of the sheet and wrapped it around her arm, twisting it tight to staunch the bleeding. Clutching her arm she sat up next to Spike, feeling slightly dizzy, and looked down into his face. His ridges and fangs had relaxed into his own chiseled cheekbones and smooth skin. “Spike?” she said hesitatingly, running the fingers of her good hand down the side of his face. “Can you hear me?”
 
As she watched, hoping against hope, the ice blue eyes fluttered open and looked straight into hers. She wept tears of joy as he gazed at her with complete recognition. His lips moved faintly, but no sound came out. But she could tell what he was trying to say: Buffy.
 
“I’m here, Spike,” she said, tears rolling down her face as a smile broke over it like the dawn. “I’m here, and you’re going to be okay.” And Spike heard her, and believed every word. 

TBC

DIsclaimer: Not my characters, Joss Whedon's characters.

Thanks so much to all the reviewers. I am humbled by your enthusiasm. Enjoy the last chapter!


*****************************
Chapter 19
*****************************
 
“About time you got your lazy ass out of bed!” Dawn said from her post, leaning with folded arms against the door frame wearing a mock frown.
 
“Watch it Nibblet. Still say teenage girls with smart mouths taste the best.”
 
“Could we please concentrate here kids?” Buffy said, exasperated. With her arm around his waist for support, and his arm across her shoulders, Spike struggled triumphantly across the room, on his feet for the first time since their fight with the Trio. It had taken nearly a month to get to this point. Spike’s recovery had been a little like that of a stroke victim. His senses had returned, and after a few days of his Slayer diet he could finally speak. They had shared tears of pure joy at the ability to converse again. Buffy had let him drink from her as often as she physically could, and although he protested, she won the battle. Spike had to admit that the Slayer blood was amazing. His broken back had taken months and months to show any improvement, on a sporadic diet of whatever Drusilla happened to bring home, when she remembered. This time he had all the animal blood he could drink, with a Slayer chaser, and the progression was nothing short of miraculous.
 
The money in the house was still a bit of an issue, and Spike marveled that the girls were still afloat at all. Buffy had decided to sell her mom’s car, a decision that had been painful but necessary. As soon as Spike could speak and remember well enough he gave Buffy the information to access his modest savings. The combined funds had gotten them through another month of bills, barely. The concern about money was still clearly on Buffy’s mind – Spike could tell by the way she avoided the subject every time it came up. Soon as all the limbs are working again, I’ll find some way to take care of my girls, Spike vowed silently.
 
Buffy grinned from ear to ear as they reached their goal – the bathroom. She had been carrying Spike to the tub for his baths for the past month. Today, Spike wanted nothing more than to take a shower under his own power. Not that he minded his beautiful blonde nurse, of course. But after a month of struggling to remember how to talk and move again, the ability to stand on his own and take care of himself seemed like a major victory. “Here we are,” Buffy said. Spike lifted his arm from around her shoulders and leaned heavily on the sink. “Sure you can do this?”
 
“Need to try,” he said. “Don’t worry. If I fall I can’t drown. Can’t hurt anything but my dignity, and that usually heals pretty quick.”
 
“Well, you can feel free to let out some undignified yelling if you need to,” Buffy said. “I won’t tell anyone.”  She gave him a quick kiss and shut the door, leaving him to his ablutions.
 
Buffy decided to change the sheets in what she now thought of as their room. She hadn’t slept apart from Spike since their bodies switched back. Their relationship over the past month had been like nothing Buffy had ever experienced. She had shared a bed with this incredibly gorgeous specimen and just… talked. They had done some kissing in the last week or so, but for most of the time Spike was limited in what he could do. But he could talk, and it had been exactly what Buffy needed. She had poured out her heart about her losses and her past, and had found it such a relief to finally stop avoiding some of the topics she had been dancing around for years. Spike had talked about Drusilla and the void her betrayal had left in him. He told stories from his long life that were by turns fascinating and shocking. But mostly they had talked about the future. Spike wanted nothing more than to keep her safe, fight alongside her, and just be with her. Buffy wasn’t used to thinking about the future, and had trouble seeing beyond the impending bills. But for the first time since her mom died, Buffy felt like she had a safety net. Someone was there who wasn’t going to leave her, but who wasn’t going to dictate her every move either. It was a new experience, and she reveled in it more and more each day.
 
In the bathroom, Spike sat down on the edge of the tub to pull his jeans off the rest of the way, and to turn on the water. His legs were still weak after being bedridden for so long, but he was determined to get moving again, come hell or high water. He was concerned about Buffy. She had been caring for him practically nonstop, leaving him only to patrol and to eat when he insisted. She had all but threatened to pound him if he didn’t drink from her, and he knew it was the fastest way to heal, but he still worried. After the first time she had been so pale and weak that it frightened him. The demon had been in control, and it was a bloody miracle he hadn’t drained her. He was more careful and in control now, but she still seemed one step away from exhaustion a lot of the time. Every night that she patrolled he was on edge until she safely returned.
 
Spike stepped carefully into the tub, holding on to the wall for support. With the other hand he awkwardly soaped his face and body and scrubbed his hair, luxuriating in the hot water. When he was rinsed off he stayed there for a while, enjoying the sensation and thinking. He had thoroughly enjoyed being constantly with Buffy and Dawn. Tara had stopped over once or twice a week, but Willow and Xander had been completely absent. When he asked, Buffy had just said she wasn’t quite ready to deal with them yet, and he hadn’t pressed. But now that he was getting his strength back, he really did feel he should nudge her toward making up with them. She needed to prove to herself that she was strong enough to be their friend without them running her life. If she didn’t it would be far too easy to just hide in her house at his side until it became a new form of imprisonment. He resolved to bring the matter up at the earliest possible time, and turned off the water.
 
Buffy heard the water cut off and paused in her straightening of the bedroom to see if Spike needed help. The bathroom door opened after a time, and she waited for a long moment until Spike appeared at the door, having carefully inched his way down the hall. “Well, look who’s here!” she said happily. She went over and gave him a shoulder to lean on as she guided him to the bed. “No drowning?”
 
“Managed to take care of things quite well, thank you,” Spike replied, sitting down awkwardly. “Another week and I should be ready to run a bloody marathon.”
 
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she said, sitting down next to him. She smiled, then looked down at her hands for a moment.
 
“What’s on your mind, love?” Spike asked. She was clearly worried about something.
 
“The bills are starting to pile up again,” she said with a sigh. “I really need to see about getting a job. Any job. Otherwise we’re going to be out on our ears.”
 
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Spike said. “Have you ever read the Watcher’s diaries? About the past Slayers?”
 
“Huh?” Buffy asked. His statement seemed completely out of the blue.
 
“Watcher’s diaries,” he repeated. “Tales told by the guys who trained the Slayers.”
 
Buffy shrugged. “I know there’s a bunch of them at the Magic Box. I tried reading about all their final battles once, before I interviewed a certain vampire.”
 
“Maybe you should start at the beginning of those diaries. Specifically, look at their living arrangements. I think you’ll be a bit surprised,” Spike said.
 
Buffy looked at him curiously. “How do you know what’s in them?”
 
“Know thy enemy, right?” he said. “Before I got to see firsthand what life as a Slayer was like, I did a lot of research on you lot. You bring home some of those diaries from the store, and I’ll tell you my plan for getting you some financial compensation.” Intrigued, Buffy made plans to go to the Magic Box as soon as possible.
 
********************
 
A week later, a phone rang in a London flat. “Hello?”
 
Buffy took a deep breath. “Giles, it’s me. Buffy.”
 
“Buffy!” Giles exclaimed, the delight evident in his voice. “I haven’t heard from you in quite a while. How have things been going?”
 
“Things have been… weird. And stressful,” Buffy said. “I’ll give you the details some other time. But right now I’m calling about business.”
 
“Business?” Giles asked, curious.
 
“Yes,” she answered. She hesitated, but Spike squeezed her shoulder for support and whispered, “Go on, love.”
 
“Buffy?” came Giles’ voice. “Are you alright?”
 
“Yeah, I’m fine. Okay, here goes.” She took another deep breath. “The council needs to pay me some sort of salary if they want me to keep slaying.”
 
“What do you mean, pay you?” Giles asked. “Slaying is a calling, a sacred duty, not a paid profession!”
 
“Yeah, well I’ve been looking into that as well,” she said, growing bold under Spike’s supportive gaze. “I did some research. I read through all the watchers’ diaries you left behind. In every single case, the Slayer lived with and was supported by her watcher or her family. There has never been a Slayer who has had to completely support herself. Never.”
 
In London, Giles sputtered as he answered, “But you don’t seriously expect me to come back and support you?”
 
“No, I don’t,” Buffy said. “I realize that the other Slayers weren’t a burden on anyone for very long, although Nikki Wood in the ’70’s was not only supported by her watcher for a long time, but her watcher also raised her son when she was killed.” Spike swallowed a bit at the memory of the fierce Nikki, but kept up his steady, silent support.
 
“Then what?” Giles wondered.
 
“Look, the council has to realize that I can’t perform my duties if I get kicked out of my house for not paying the bills. I also don’t see how I can possibly work all day and slay all night. I have yet to find another case of a Slayer who had to get a job to pay the bills. I don’t see why I should have to be the first.”
 
“How are you surviving now then?” Giles asked. “If you can get by now, I don’t see how I am going to convince the council to pay you.”
 
“I’m up to my ears in debt, that’s how!” Buffy yelled. “If it hadn’t been for Spike, I would have defaulted on my mortgage already!”
 
“Spike?” Giles said. “What’s he got to do with this?”
 
Here we go. “Spike and I are… together. We’re a couple. He contributed a huge chunk of his savings to help keep me and Dawn above water.”
 
“You’re what?” Giles practically screamed. “How can you be in another relationship with a vampire? A vampire with no soul! Have you completely lost your mind?”
 
“No. In fact if it wasn’t for him I might have lost my mind as well as my house,” Buffy replied. “I was bordering on suicidal after you left, Giles. Spike and I have been through a lot together in the last few weeks. I know with absolute certainty that he is on my side. He’s done nothing but help me and Dawn. And I love him.”
 
Spike couldn’t help but grin at her confession, and at the response it provoked from the Watcher. “This is… this is absolutely irresponsible of you. I can’t go to the council and ask them to pay a Slayer who would betray her calling like this!”
 
“I haven’t betrayed my calling!” Buffy cried. “I still patrol every night, and when he can, he helps me. He helps me to research, helps Dawn with her homework, and helps me want to be alive, Giles. If I give up, or get killed, what does the council plan to do then? I’m all they got. So they’d better start taking care of their assets.”
 
Giles paused, taking in what she had said. In truth, she had the council over a barrel. Killing her wouldn’t call a new slayer into being – something the council had done in the past with recalcitrant slayers. Faith was the one in the succession now, and she was out of their reach and of no use. Reluctantly, Giles said, “You may have a valid point. I will discuss this with the council.”
 
“Thank you, Giles,” she said. “And I don’t think the council needs to know about my personal life, do you?” she asked meaningfully.
 
“No, I suppose not,” Giles sighed, defeated. “I’ll call you as soon as I discuss the situation with them.”
 
“Talk to you soon then,” Buffy said, and she hung up.
 
She had barely put the phone down when Spike swept her off her feet and kissed her breathless. “You were bloody marvelous,” he crowed. “Wish I could have been there to see the look on his face.”
 
“Suppose I’ll have to mention the whole body swap thing to him at some point,” she said ruefully. “But for now, at least he’ll make an effort to get them to cough up something to keep me afloat.”
 
Spike kissed her again. “Nice to see you fighting your corner, love. I think you deserve a night out. What do you say to drinks at the Bronze?”
 
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” she asked worriedly. “You only just got back on your feet.”
 
“Well, as long as I don’t have to fight any Fyral demons tonight, I should be fine,” Spike insisted. “Besides, you haven’t gone anywhere in a month, and you’re going to start going stir crazy if you don’t. You can officially retire as nurse now.”
 
“I don’t know,” Buffy said slyly. “I’ve grown rather attached to my patient.” Spike growled happily and nuzzled her neck before shooing her upstairs to get dressed. Dawn was spending the night at her friend Janice’s, and Spike found that he couldn’t stand another minute cooped up in the house, no matter how much he liked the company. Even the slightly annoying teenybopper crowd and American beer of the Bronze was going to be most welcome.
 
Buffy came back downstairs in a pair of black leather pants and a white, off the shoulder blouse that had Spike whistling appreciatively. “Sight for sore eyes, you are,” he said, curling his tongue behind his teeth.
 
Buffy blushed and smiled. “I guess I haven’t been dressing up much. Must be because somebody borrowed all my clothes.”
 
“Must be,” Spike said. “Although someone borrowed all my clothes too, while back. Don’t hear me complaining.”
 
“Come on, vampire,” Buffy said. Linking her arm in his, they headed out toward the Bronze. Spike still walked a little slower than his former rapid stride, and he still found his balance to be a trifle off. Still, he was upright and walking, and that was more than he had expected at this point.
 
“I guess I have to remember whose body I’m in this time,” Buffy commented. “No more vampire alcohol tolerance.”
 
“Can’t say I miss that aspect of being human,” Spike said. He gave an exaggerated sigh of contentment. “Ahh. Back to all my wicked vices.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it cheerfully, taking a long, satisfying drag.
 
“Well, I don’t mind being done with the liquid diet,” Buffy said, shuddering at the memory. “And a week without tasting my food was quite enough.” She waved her hand at the cigarette smoke. “You could point that particular vice elsewhere, you know.”
 
“Sorry pet,” Spike said. He took an extra long drag and dropped the butt, rubbing it out and continuing on their way. “You surviving being the Slayer again, then?”
 
“It has its advantages,” Buffy said. “I’ll feel even better about it if the Council comes through with some fundage.”
 
“Even if they don’t, we’ll figure it out, Slayer. I’ve always got your back.”
 
“I know,” Buffy said, giving him a smile that reminded him of that last sunrise. They arrived at the Bronze, and Spike was grateful to find a seat. This had been the longest walk yet for him, and he still found himself tiring easily. “Can I get you a beer?” Buffy asked. “Brought my ID this time.”
 
“Right kind of you,” Spike said. Buffy came back a short while later with a beer for Spike and a wine cooler for herself. “To you, love.”
 
“To you,” Buffy agreed. They clinked bottles and drank. “How does it taste?” she wondered.
 
“Alas, back to being bloody close to water, but I’ll take it,” he said with a shrug. As they drank Buffy noticed Xander, Anya, and Willow sitting at a table across the dance floor from them. Spike followed her gaze when he noticed her slight frown. “You really should just talk to them, you know. Clear the air and start over.”
 
“I know,” Buffy sighed. She took another sip of her wine cooler. “Let me get a little more alcohol into me and I’ll think about it.”
 
Across the room, Willow listened as Anya and Xander discussed plans for the weekend. Since their ‘discussion’ as Anya had called it their relationship had changed somewhat. Xander had had to force himself to concentrate on Anya, and take a break from Scoobie business. He had gone to see Buffy the one time, but after that he had been a bit at sea, with no research assignments or donuts to fetch or apocalypses to help avert. After a few days, he realized that once more he was spending more of his time worrying about how to rebuild things with Buffy than he was thinking about Anya. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how little time he spent really knowing Anya. They had fallen into this relationship and were rushing headlong toward marriage, but he still didn’t know what made her tick in some ways. So he asked her about her past, and really listened for a change. He took her out to dinner and the movies and took the time to woo her. What surprised him most about all of it was how much he enjoyed it. He blanched quite often when she launched into tales from her demon days, but he did his best to keep his mouth shut and let her talk. He had brought up the idea of postponing their wedding for a while, and had completely expected her to walk out the door that night. But after some initial shock he had gotten her to understand his fears about hurting her, and his desire not to have a repeat of his parents’ marriage. He was surprised when she said that she understood, but as she said, “Xander, I’ve been around the block about ten thousand times. I’ve seen every possible way a relationship can fail. I’ve seen a few involving large amounts of fish that were not to be believed. I really don’t want to have to call in one of my buddies if we break up. So if you think waiting a while will make things more solid, I’ll go along.” Xander hadn’t really wanted to ask about fish-related breakups or her former demon colleagues, so he had kissed her tenderly and counted his blessings.
 
Willow had gotten out of her parents’ house into a small apartment near campus a week or two after the defeat of the Trio. The trip to the hospital to surreptitiously cure the robbery victims had been reported as a ‘miraculous cure’ on local news. Willow had on some level assumed that this would bring about a similarly miraculous healing of her relationship with Tara. She had been dismayed to find that this was not the case. Tara had gently but firmly told her that she still needed time to heal and rebuild trust, and had dropped her off at her box-filled car with a promise to stay in touch. Willow had spent a week sulking in her old bedroom, not that her parents noticed in particular. At one point she started looking through spell books – nothing earthshattering, she told herself. A harmless love charm, that was all. It’s not like she and Tara didn’t still love each other, deep down. This would just enhance things a bit.
 
She had gone to the Magic Box for a needed ingredient, still convinced that this was harmless and no one would know. She had encountered Xander behind the counter, Anya having taken off one afternoon for a hairdresser appointment and shopping. Willow had begun her practiced speech of excuses for why she needed blessed orris root, when Xander stopped her and said in a low voice, “Wills, you’re just going to lose her forever.” Xander’s uncharacteristically subdued response had cut straight through her nervous chatter like a knife. Xander had sat her down at the table and made her talk it all out; the magic addition, the resurrection spell, the break up, and the situation with Buffy. He shared his own changing relationship with Anya, and Willow had been dismayed to hear that they were delaying their wedding. But as the conversation went on until the sun sank outside something clicked inside Willow’s head. It’s all changed, she had thought. Everything’s changed. The thought had filled her with panic at first, but the more she listened the more she realized that her oldest friend was right. They needed to change, or they were both at risk of losing everything they had come to hold dear.
 
After that evening, and a long private weeping session in her bedroom, Willow had taken charge. She had found an apartment, immersed herself in her studies, and waited for Tara to call. After two weeks she had run into Tara on campus and they had shared a cup of coffee at the student center. Tara had filled Willow in on the reports of her weekly visits to Buffy‘s house, and their conversation had been cordial. They had met twice more, always over coffee. Tara was still taking it much, much slower than Willow liked, but at least they were talking. Willow had forced herself to be grateful for whatever she got.
 
Now as they sat conversing at the Bronze, Willow suddenly noticed the two familiar blond heads at the table across the room. “Hey guys,” she interrupted. “Look who’s here.” The others looked and saw Buffy and Spike. Spike was casually running his thumb over Buffy’s hand on the table while they drank. As they watched, Spike leaned in for a comment that had Buffy bubbling over with laughter, her smile lighting up her face in a way they hadn’t seen for a long time.
 
“They look like they’re having a good time,” Anya remarked. “And it seems like Spike must be all healed. Wonder how they managed that so fast?”
 
“Should we go say hi?” Willow wondered.
 
“Why not?” Xander said. They got up and started moving toward the table, just as Buffy got up and went toward the bar to get another round. “I’ll get us some more drinks and catch up,” he offered, moving off toward the bar.
 
Buffy hailed the bartender and asked for another beer for Spike and another wine cooler for herself. As she waited, leaning on the bar, Xander came up beside her. “Hey, Buffy,” he greeted her. “Long time no see.”
 
Buffy tensed up, but tried to keep her voice neutral as she returned the greeting. “Hello, Xander. Nice to see you.”
 
Xander signaled the bartender and gave his order. “Mind if we join you two for a while?” he asked a trifle nervously.
 
“Sure,” Buffy replied, fighting the urge to flee. She had largely managed to overcome her depression and anger at being alive as well as the lingering resentfulness toward the Scoobies. But having come so far, she was apprehensive about falling back into the old patterns. She collected her drinks, waited patiently for Xander to get his order, then led the way back to the table, trying to keep her breathing under control.
 
Spike smiled as he saw her approach, though her heart sounded like a machine gun and he could see the stress building as she neared the table. Willow and Anya had greeted Spike and exchanged minor pleasantries. Buffy sat down next to Spike, subconsciously moving her chair as close to his as possible and handing him his beer. “Thanks, love,” he said, putting his arm around her. “I was just filling them in on my activities for the past month.”
 
“You mean being inert?” Buffy said with a smirk.
 
“That and remembering how to talk and get my limbs to function,” he said good-naturedly.
 
“I just can’t believe how far you’ve come in such a short time,” Willow said. “I mean, didn’t you say your back took months? And this was your brain!”
 
Spike wasn’t entirely sure how much Buffy wanted to tell them about his Slayer diet, so he shrugged and said, “Well, I guess maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
 
Buffy noticed his dissembling and put in, “Don’t listen to him. It was bad. I’m the one who experienced it, remember?” She took a long drink of her wine cooler and added, “I gave him some of my blood. Slayer blood is like hi-test for a vampire.”
 
Xander nearly spit out his drink at her statement. “What?” he spluttered.
 
Buffy leaned a little closer to Spike and said, “I gave him what he needed. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. And he didn’t.” Spike squeezed her supportively and she smiled up at him.
 
Xander’s mouth wobbled, as he struggled to find the words to voice how wrong he thought this was, but Anya laid a hand on him and said, “Xander, relax. Some people donate kidneys to family. She donated some blood to her boyfriend. No harm, no foul.”
 
Spike smiled and tipped his beer to Anya. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, demon girl.”
 
“So, any regrets about switching back?” Willow asked, mostly to change the subject.
 
“Not on my end,” said Buffy. “I do not need headaches and pig blood on a daily basish.” Her words were starting to slur a little bit.
 
Spike laughed. “I see your human alcohol tolerance is the same as it ever was.”
 
Buffy elbowed him. “Watch it, vampire. I still have plenty of stakes around the house,” she threatened, smiling all the while.
 
“Been meaning to mention that,” Spike said with a frown. “Not very inviting for yours truly.”
 
“Carptenters have shcrewdrivers, Slayers have stakesh,” Buffy said with a giggle.
 
“You’re cut off, missy,” Spike warned. Addressing Willow he said, “I do miss the food and the sun. But I never want to have to worry about a lack of oxygen again. Or the state of the ladies room.” He shuddered a bit at the memory.
 
“Seems like there was no lasting damage from the swap then,” Xander said, having recovered his composure.
 
“Seems not,” Spike agreed. “How about you folks? How have things been?” Buffy sighed contentedly and leaned into Spike’s shoulder, listening to her friends talk and feeling the solid form of her man next to her. It’s not heaven, she mused. But I think it will do.
 
*************
 
“Watch your shtep,” Buffy warned as she and Spike made their way up the front stairs. Xander had graciously given them a ride home after an evening of getting reacquainted with each other that had ended well. Buffy had stopped after her two wine coolers, but had been stealing little sips of Spike’s beer throughout the evening, leaving her pleasantly buzzed.
 
“Who’s helping who here, Slayer?” Spike laughed. Between his lingering unsteadiness and hers, it was a bloody miracle they didn’t end up in a heap. They made their way upstairs to the bedroom without falling, although it was a near thing once or twice. Spike flopped back on the bed gratefully. “Glad we went out, but that seemed like more of a workout than a six hour patrol.”
 
“We gotta get you back in shape, vampire,” Buffy teased, taking off her boots. “You’re getting soft.”
 
Spike growled playfully and snagged her arm, pulling her down on top of him. “Not soft by a long shot,” he purred, capturing her mouth in a long slow kiss.
 
Buffy moaned at the feeling of his erection grinding into her. “Definitely not soft,” she agreed, kissing him back and working her way down to nibble on his neck.
 
Spike groaned and brought his hands up to tweak and pull at her nipples, causing her to writhe with pleasure. “Too many bloody clothes,” he muttered.
 
Buffy got off of him and stripped, teasing him while he did the same. He wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked, blue eyes smoldering as she shimmied out of her remaining clothes. Rejoining him on the bed she made her way down his body, remembering all the places that had driven her wild when she had been wearing it. Their hands and tongues glided and stroked and nibbled until they were both ready to explode. Spike rolled them over and slid into her with almost no resistance, reveling in her tight warmth. “Oh God,” she sighed, wrapping herself around him. They each used their knowledge of each other’s bodies to bring each other to the edge again and again, until the two of them climaxed, screaming and roaring so loud that Buffy was sure that the neighbors were going to call the cops.
 
Panting, Spike rested his forehead on hers, shuddering through the aftershocks. “Fucking incredible,” he breathed, opening his eyes at last to meet hers. “You’re amazing.”
 
“It’s like you know me like the back of your hand,” Buffy quipped, and Spike chuckled at that.
 
“Think we could write an advice column for one of those ladies’ magazines,” he said, kissing her neck while he did. “Advice for the lovelorn. Spend a week in your lover’s body.”
 
“Does help to know where all the hot spots are,” Buffy agreed. They kissed a while longer before Spike rolled on his back, coming to rest with Buffy draped happily across his chest. She lay there, stroking his smooth white skin, tracing the outlines of his muscles, still sculpture-like even after a month of inactivity. “Thank you, Spike,” she said after a few moments.
 
“What for?” he asked as he stroked her hair.
 
“For bringing me back,” she said, lifting her head to look in his eyes. “For making me want to stay in this world and this body. I don’t think I would have made it alone.”
 
“You’ll never be alone, Buffy Summers,” he said with feeling. He kissed her anew, both of them knowing they were finally in the right place.
 
The End.