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.
 
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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