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!


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Chapter 19
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“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.