a/n – Everyone’s been so great.  I just want to say ‘thank you so much’ for all the great reviews and the continued interest in this little (getting HUGE) fic. :-).  I’ll try and post again soon but JM & Friends is coming up (squee!) so it may be a little while before I get some new stuff.  I do have this chapter and another for you, so I hope that holds you. 

As always, thanks to my wonderful betas – Megan and Gail.  Kisses and hugs, ladies.

**hugs** sfg

Who am I?
 
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Chapter 9

Alright, so Spike didn’t really believe the Watcher would stake him on sight but there was no way he wanted to disrupt the Slayer’s entrance – not when, as she put it, she was wearing a ‘Faith suit’. 

Plus, just in case the Englishman did let loose any wooden projectiles, they would be aimed at his very own Slayer.  The expression on Giles’ face when he found that out would be well-worth the price of admission.

Spike felt a tiny twinge when he thought about the already battered Slayer wearing a bolt from a cross bow and squashed it. 

Oi, ‘m evil, yeah?

Still, he made sure he was within arms reach of her when she shoved through the door to the Watcher’s flat.

“Giles!”

Spike winced a bit at the tone.  He had to admit, this dark Slayer’s voice...not nearly as melodic as Buffy’s.

Not that he’d admit that to anyone.  Ever.  Even under torture.

Ah, the Watcher.

“Oi, Watcher.  Lookie who I found.”

“God!”

Oh, that look was priceless.   There at the foot of the stairs stood the sodding Brit what had chained him to his tub, mouth agape, hands full of dirty crockery and eyes dancing a rumba for a weapon.  Spike fought hard not to laugh out loud.

“Don’t move,” the Slayer was saying, holding up her hands, palms out in the universal sign for ‘stop’.   Even then the wanker was looking for a place to drop what looked to be the remains of his evening cuppa.

With Giles’ hands occupied and no weapons in sight, Spike moved off from the Slayer, crossed his arms on his chest and leaned his back against the wall to enjoy the show.

The Slayer proceeded to pat the air in a truly pathetic attempt to soothe the Watcher.  “Okay, Giles, you have to listen to me very carefully.”  She paused for a breath there.  “I’m not Faith.”

Spike shook his head, unable to quit the grin that sprang to his lips.  Oh, pet, please tell me you’ve got better than that.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“’Cause the resemblance is striking.” 

Watcher can do sarcasm surprisingly well.

Spike snickered, but neither of them acknowledged him.   

“I know.  Giles, you just have to...”

Spike recognized the little bit of desperation that was seeping into her voice and had to wonder what the silly bint had been thinking about all the way here that she didn’t have a better argument cooked up already. 

While she fell silent, obviously regrouping her thoughts, Spike watched the Englishman subtly inch toward the kitchen counter.

Uh oh.   Spike’s grin broadened.  Not a good idea, mate.  

“Stop inching!  You were inching!”

Busted!  Oh, come on, Watcher!  That was Classic Summers whinging.  You don’t recognize her now, you’re a pathetic nit, is what you are.

Giles surreptitiously cast his eyes about again.  “Look, I-I know what you’re going to say and-and, uh –”

“I’m Buffy.”

All expression fled the elder man’s face.

He stood completely still for a moment, before he admitted, “All right, I didn’t know what you were going to say but that doesn’t make you any less crazy.”

That was it.  The laugh broke free.  “Ha!”

“Spike!” the Slayer’s voice was sharp.

“Sorry, luv.  Please, by all means, continue,” he said, waving his hand in a ‘go on’ gesture.  She glared at him and he tried to look contrite. 

Probably failed miserably. 

After a second or two she sucked in a large breath and turned her attention back to the Watcher.

“Faith switched.”  As the Slayer rambled on about ‘devices’ and ‘switched bodies’ in a desperate attempt to convince the skeptical Watcher, Spike wondered if the man would wind up calling the men in white suits to cart her away when he finally got his hands free. 

For just a moment, the idea had a tremendous appeal.  He imagined them throwing open the door to the flat and cornering the beaten girl, forcing her into a white canvas jacket that twisted her already bruised arms in an agonized way...

All his mirth vanished and Spike had to bite back the growl that rose in him at the mental picture.

Damn it.   He should revel in an image like that.  What the hell was wrong with him?   

“Giles, I swear, it’s me.”  Spike was supposed to be enjoying this, but hearing the Slayer’s sad, desperate plea he felt that irritating twinge again.

The Slayer was at the end of her strength and he actually found himself getting annoyed that the Watcher hadn’t yet cottoned to the fact that the girl was telling the truth. 

It was a shame really.

The closest thing she had to a Da and he didn’t even know her when the chips were down.  Spike actually felt sorry for her.

Or, you know, he would if he weren’t an evil vampire.

And he was.  Evil, that is.  Very, very evil.  No matter what sodden spell he’d been under recently.  Or how many times his demon dreamed of shagging the Slayer instead of killing her.  I mean, shagging a Slayer !  You can’t get more evil than that !

The Watcher finally shifted, bringing Spike’s attention back to the present.  Keeping his eyes on her the whole time, Giles set the dirty plates down on the table behind the sofa, freeing his hands.  “Um, if-if you are Buffy, then, uh, then you’ll let me tie you up w-without killing me.” 

Spike’s mouth fell open. 

The Watcher nodded once, nervously, before he finished his thought.  “Just until we find out whether you’re telling the truth.”

That was it.  Spike growled low in his throat and pushed off the wall.

“Un-friggin’-believable!  What the hell is with you people and tyin’ up those who come to you for help?  Christ, Rupert, can’t you see the damage your Slayer’s sportin’?  Have you even offered her a band aid, you worthless—”

His tirade was cut short when the Slayer placed a restraining hand on his forearm.  He stared down at her fingers clutching the leather of his duster.  He didn’t know what the hell had possessed him to rip into the Watcher but if it caused the Slayer to lay gentle hands on him like this, he might consider hauling out his inner wanker more often. 

He could practically feel the burn of her fiery skin through the leather and only wished that it was Buffy’s pale hand and not this dark Slayer’s more olive skinned version.  He was still contemplating the differences when her reply to Rupert finally worked its way into his brain.

“Giles, Faith has taken my body, and for all I know, she’s taken it to Mexico by now.  I don’t have time for bondage fun.”

Spike snapped his head up and grinned at the expression on the Watcher’s face, but he didn’t waste much time looking at him.  He only had eyes for the Slayer. 

Badly beaten.  Tired and scared.  Faced with uncertainty at best and outright disbelief at worst from one of the most important people in her life, and the woman still managed to toss out gems like that. 

“I don’t have time for bondage fun.”   

God, she was priceless.

tbc