Glad to be me
TITLE: Glad to be me
AUTHOR: Fyre
EMAIL: Fyredansa@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Spike and Faith have a run-in...with truly bizarre consequences.
FEEDBACK: I neeeeeeeeeeeeed it!
DISTRIBUTION: Just here at the mo...but anyone can have it :-) Just ask nicely ;-)
SPOILERS: The Faith eppys of Season 4.
COUPLE: None in particular
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: I want. I don't have. I pout much.
CLASSIFICATION: Another improv from Having a Thought - Improv: crave, rain, glow, bound
DEDICATED: The improv group for letting my insanity loose!
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Hands jammed deep in his pockets, Spike stalked silently through the cemetery towards the crypt that was now his home. He had just left the Watcher's house, after going to provide some more of his ever-useful information.
Beyond him, he heard a rustling in the bushes and frowned. Normally, no one but Buffy would be lurking in the cemetery at this time of night, since the commando boys had gone down, but something was out there and it wasn't demon.
If anything, it had the vague scent and feel of a Slayer, only with a more dangerous flavour to it, a dark, mysterious scent that Buffy - Miss Sunshine - could never possess. Probably the replacement for the bitch Slayer Dru had killed almost two years before.
Pausing, freezing, motionless, he tilted his head, waiting.
He didn't have long to wait, the dark figure bursting out of the shadows. She seemed to be running from something, racing towards him at full speed, staring back over her shoulder at whatever the something was.
"Hello, luv." He grinned, as her head whipped round, dark, haunted eyes staring at him in astonishment, her feet not stopping nearly fast enough.
Her slender body collided fully with him, knocking him flat on his back, her hands slamming down on his chest. A blindingly bright light exploded from her hands, engulfing them both in dazzling whiteness.
As the light faded, Spike groaned painfully, aware of every single little tiny stone and twig that was poking into his back, the ground feeling unnaturally cold against his skin. Skin he was convinced was covered by his duster.
Shakily sitting up, blinking, trying to bring his dazzled vision back into some kind of focus, he stiffened as twin swathes of dark hair fell down on either side of his face, ticklishly soft on his shoulders.
Lifting his head, he frowned. He was certain there should have been someone standing over him. Someone with long dark hair. The dozy bitch that had run into him perhaps.
But there was nothing.
One shaking hand rose - a hand that seemed strangely smooth - and ran hesitantly through the long hair. Tugging experimentally, he winced as the sensations prickled through his scalp, his chest tightening unnervingly.
Shaking his head, his newly sprung dark hair swishing on his bare shoulders, he shivered, feeling unnaturally chilly.
Groaning, he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.
The groan was echoed from a figure lying face down in the grass, several feet away from him, spread face-down on the damp earth.
Crawling over on his hands and knees, too dizzy to stand, Spike absently noticed his arms were bare. Must have lost his duster in that blast, he mused, flipping the other figure onto its back, an peculiar drumming pounding against the inside of his chest as he stared at the face before him.
A tingling sensation rippled through him, as he stared down at the young-looking man, the blonde hair in need of a re-bleach, his black jeans and T-shirt looking appropriately scruffy, a familiar-looking duster on the blonde's body.
The tightening in his chest increased, his ragged breaths burning in his throat. Shaking his head again, one shaking hand reflexively rose to his chest, the pounding becoming increasingly painful against his sternum.
Something was very wrong.
Raising his hands, he stared at them in disbelief, turning them over in the moonlight, the slim, smooth, feminine fingers definitely not his own. And if they weren't his own...then, the pieces of the unfamiliar anatomy he had just touched...
Praying to everyone and anyone who chanced to be listening to him that it had to b some kind of freakishly bad dream, he slowly forced himself to look down at his body. If finding himself in a revealing halter-top was worrying, the realisation of why he was actually wearing it was even more so.
"Oh God." He groaned softly. "I'm a bloody girl!"
* * *
Stirring painfully back to consciousness, Faith groaned, becoming aware of something wrapped around her wrists.
Opening her eyes, she stared around, trying to get her bearings. She was in what looked like a crypt, kneeling upright against a pillar, apparently held in place by heavy manacles around her wrists.
"So you're awake?" A voice she knew was her own asked, sounding vaguely amused, but also tainted with a touch of anger. The figure stepped out of the shadows, wearing the duster that the blonde vampire had been wearing when she ran into him. "Maybe you can tell me who you are and why the hell I am alive."
"Why should I?" She stared at him, the vampire whose bound body she now owned. It had been a complete accident, taking on this body. She hadn't even realised the process would work from living to undead, but apparently it had.
Squatting down in front of the girl in his body, Spike chuckled. "Because you've just taken over the most useless body in the world. You wanna know what I mean, you tell me what I wanna know."
"I could kick your ass." She glared at him, wondering if it was a good idea to batter the crap out of her own body.
Her own lips curled up in a smirk. "I'd like to see you try, luv."
"Unchain me and we'll see." Spike almost chuckled at her foolishness. She was cocky and impetuous and it matched his body perfectly. He tried to imagine what she was like as a fighting Slayer. "What? You afraid of yourself?"
"Nah, luv." He grinned devilishly at her, his own personality dancing beyond those dark brown eyes. "I just don't want you hurting yourself...and I mean you, in my body. Not your body. You'll never harm a hair on my head."
"Oh yeah?"
Shrugging, he leaned around the pillar and undid the chains on her wrists. "Let's see what you've got, pet."
The blonde's fist snapped up, aiming to sock the brunette Slayer across the jaw. Jumping back, Spike avoided the blow, chuckling softly, as the chip inside his head was activated, the Slayer yelling in pain, hands clutching the temples of the body she now inhabited.
Not giving her time to recover, he rechained her securely, then resumed his position squatting in front of her, his own duster spreading on the floor as he tilted his head, the loose dark hair hanging lightly to the slim shoulders of his new body.
"So," He chucked her chin up, eyeing his features clinically, tilting his dark head this way and that to examine his own body. "This is what I look like." Tracing the cheekbones, he grinned brightly. "Very nice."
"Are you done, already?" She jerked her chin away angrily. “What the hell is wrong with this body?"
Spike smirked. "A chip in the head." He replied, tossing his long hair back over his shoulders, his brown eyes sparkling. "Means that you - being the new owner of that lovely body - can't harm any living thing and I – being a homicidal maniac, among other things –can go out in the sun and kick some serious mortal arse."
“Like who?" Faith couldn't help but be intrigued.
"The Slayer." Spike replied casually. "Got a problem with that?"
Faith snorted with disgust. "As if." She retorted sharply, her blue eyes flaring into infuriated gold. "Whoa! What the hell just happened?"
"Looks like you've got the vampire bug." Spike's grin widened. "I always wondered what I looked like with fangs and all." He chuckled. "I dunno what you've done to me, pet, but it seems like you've get every useless part of me and I'm completely free."
"And you wanna do exactly the same thing as me." Faith added.
"You, a Slayer, want to kill Buffy, also a Slayer?" One of his dark brows rose, dark eyes glinting with curiosity. The blonde head dipped in a nod. "Mind telling me why?"
Faith stared up at him. "Why should I?"
"Let me think." Spike frowned, as if deep in thought, his forearms resting on his knees in front of her. "I have your body, I have all the powers of a Slayer, I can go out in daylight and kill anyone I damn well please. You, pet, are a biteless vampire who is chained to a pillar and can't do a bloody thing about it. That reason enough?"
Shrugging, the chains grated against the stone of the column. "I want to kill her because I didn't last year." She replied, her face shifting back to the smooth human ones, blue eyes meeting brown. "The bitch put me in a coma after I almost killed her boytoy."
"I think I'm starting to like this arrangement even more." Spike smirked wickedly. "I think I might have to keep this body for some time...unless..." He tilted his head. "You do know how to undo this?"
Faith glared at him, the Slayer fire still visible in his own blue eyes. "It wasn't meant to be your body I took."
"So it's permanent, unless you have a witch to help you?" Spike threw back his head with a laugh that echoed of the walls of the crypt. "Bloody hell! And I thought my day couldn't get any better! Stuck for as long as I choose, until I talk to the Witch, in the body of a Slayer while you, pet, can't do a soddin' thing about it."
Faith released an impressive snarl, her eyes blazing gold again. "You twisted son of a bitch! I swear I'll kill you!" She strained against the chains uselessly.
Pressing a rough kiss to the blonde's forehead, Spike straightened up with a wide grin, patting her on the head. "Like I said, pet." He stated firmly. "You can't do a soddin' thing."
Ignoring the curses she rained on him and her growls of fury, he pivoted on his two-inch heels and sauntered lazily out of the crypt, into the deserted cemetery, his duster swirling around his new, surprisingly curvaceous young body.
Pulling the door shut, he inhaled a deep breath of night air into his lungs and looked around with a contented sigh. Things were certainly looking up.
* * *
"I-I am rather concerned about this, Buffy."
The blonde Slayer looked up at her former Watcher with a sigh. "I know, Giles." She said wearily. "Since she didn't get the chance to kill me before I put her in the coma, she will now, won't she?"
The Englishman nodded uneasily. "You killed the Mayor, her only ally. I can't imagine her being too pleased about that."
"How did it happen?" Xander asked, squeezing Anya's hand between his. "Did she just wake up and say 'I'm feeling better' and walk out?"
"I'm not certain." Giles replied, taking off his glasses and rubbing them carefully with the end of his tie. "The police are looking into her disappearance. She's still wanted for the murders she committed before..." He trailed off implicitly.
Willow shuddered. "I don't like the idea of her being on the loose." She remembered her last run in with the dark-haired Slayer with a shiver of disgust.
"I'll join that club." Xander agreed.
"Well, she won't get any of us." Buffy stated confidently. "We all just have to be on our guard, though, just in case."
* * *
Spreading his arms, Spike spun around, laughing. The sensation of feeling the sun on his skin – something he hadn't felt for over a century - left him giddy with dizzying pleasure, the simple warmth moving through his veins as his new heart pounded comfortingly against his chest. Beneath those breasts that he was taking a little longer to get used to.
Watching the sun rising had given him an unbelievable high, seeing light and colours in ways he could never remember seeing them before.
Although the temptation to find Buffy was great, he had thought on it while he waited for the sun to come up. He ought to wait until she was off guard. He remembered hearing about the Slayer whose body he now inhabited, but only in passing. Wanted for murder, or something, that's what he recalled hearing.
Bending to lift his duster from the dew-drenched ground, he pulled it on over his body, reveling in the rough warmth of the leather. Having the ability to feel different temperatures was strange, but he found he was liking it.
A low grumbling growl sounded from his stomach. It felt similar to the pains of blood lust he felt when he hadn't fed for a while, only not nearly as painful.
"I guess I'm hungry." He remarked, still fighting down a laugh every time he heard himself speak in the feminine American accent. There was only one person he knew he could count on to help him, although he wasn't certain about her feelings towards Faith.
Either way, he wasn't used to being a human and he knew that she was a reasonable woman, so she would probably understand, once he explained what had happened. Or at least he hoped she would.
Balancing uneasily on the heels, he made his way slowly down the hill, his duster swirling around his feet. The Slayer was a little shorter than he had been, so - naturally - his duster was that little bit longer.
The wind whipped the long dark hair around his face, one slim hand rising to brush the uncontrollable mane aside, as he headed towards the gate of the cemetery, his shoes clacking on the paths as he walked.
Okay, maybe he was a girl, but still, being alive again was one helluva buzz.
* * *
"Just a minute!" Wiping her hands on the dishcloth, Joyce pushed her unruly hair back from her batter-streaked face, then made her way over to the back door, pulling it open to come face-to-face with a familiar girl. "F-Faith?"
The brunette girl flashed her a wicked grin, her dark brown eyes dancing mischievously in her make-up-less face. "Not exactly, Joyce." She replied. "Can...could I come in? I need some help and you were the only person I could think of who would put up with me."
"What-what do you mean?" Taking a reluctant step back, Joyce looked the other Slayer up and down, frowning in confusion. She recognised the black, leather duster that the girl was wearing. "And where did you get that coat?"
The girl looked down, then raised her eyes to Joyce, a small smile quirking her lips. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, Joyce." She shook her head with a soft laugh. "You were always the one that noticed when something was up."
"I think you should leave." The Slayer's mother moved to shut the door, but one of Faith's booted feet stopped it, her hand spreading on the door. "Faith, please..." She stared at the dark-haired girl uneasily. "What do you want?"
"I want a mug of hot cocoa...and do you have any of those little marshmallows?" Faith chuckled at the expression that crossed Joyce's face, the astonishment, as she reopened the door and stared at her visitor. "You got it yet?"
"S...Spike?"
The former vampire-cum-Slayer gave a little twirl, the duster flaring around her slender legs, as a laugh bubbled from her lips. "You got me, pet." Spike grinned at her. "How do you like the new look?"
"How...how did this happen?" Gesturing the dark girl into the kitchen, Joyce stared at her incredulously. "I mean...you look identical...was it a spell?"
Shrugging, Spike tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind his ear. "I was walkin' in the cemetery last night and some dozy dark-haired bint ran into me and the next thing I knew, I was a chit with big tits. That was a bit of a surprise, I tell ya.” He chuckled. "So, I have a Slayer, in my body, chained up in a crypt and I have a pulse."
"Faith did this to you?"
"She said it was an accident." Spike crossed slim arms over his breasts, looking down at them with a weak smile. "She ran into me and there was some kind of weird light, then I saw my face for the first time in a hundred and twenty six years. No one told me I was so bloody shaggable."
Joyce couldn't hold in a laugh, pressing a hand over her mouth. Spike's cock-sure attitude in Faith's body was bizarre enough, but hearing his British colloquialisms in the Slayer's strong accent sounded hilarious.
Clearing her throat, she tried not to smile. "So, were you serious about the hot cocoa?"
"In this weather?" The Slayer's dark eyebrow shot up. "I said that so you would know it was me. I am bloody hungry though...could I have a bite to eat?"
"When you say a bite...?"
"I mean proper, normal, human food." Faith's lips curled up in a smile that was pure Spike. "I forgot that humans had to eat and my stomach has been making all sorts of weird noises. I assumed it meant I had to eat and I didn't know where else to get normal food."
Joyce couldn't take her eyes off the girl who was also a vampire she got on surprisingly well with. "Is there anything in particular you want to try? I mean, its been a long time since you've eaten...do you want healthy food?"
"Healthy? Pfft!" Dropping onto one of the stools, pulling the duster across Faith's legs, Spike grinned at her. "I haven't tried a full fried breakfast for years...ooh! And chocolate! I wouldn't mind trying normal chocolate."
Chuckling softly, Joyce patted the dark-haired Slayer fondly on the shoulder. "I think I can manage that, Spike." She said with a smile. "And I've got fresh chocolate muffins cooking in the stove, if you wanna try some?"
"I'll take anything." Spike agreed readily. "And home-made muffins sound great."
"You always know the right things to say, don't you?" Joyce remarked, making her way towards the cupboards. Briefly, she wondered if she shouldn't be more worried by the fact a former vampire was now in the body of a homicidal Slayer and was sitting in her kitchen, looking for a meal. She cast a glance back at him, only to receive a brilliant grin from the brunette girl.
Only on the Hellmouth, she knew. Only on the Hellmouth.
* * *
"I'm gonna kill him." Tugging against the chains, Faith snarled, the rusted manacles grating into the skin of her new body's wrists. She could feel wounds opening, the scent of the blood making her stomach roil with hunger. The craving for blood was driving her mad, the pain ripping through her innards.
In the vampire's body, she could feel her awareness extending. Pain was harsher, but her senses were affected too. She could see things in more detail, the scents of the day stronger and clearer, the tiniest sounds from outside reaching her super-sensitive ears.
Tilting her head, she frowned. Someone was approaching the crypt. From the sound, it was someone small, moving quickly. Sniffing, her nostrils flared. A female, energetic, bouncy, delicious...**Did I just think that?**
A tingle shot down her spine, a feeling not dissimilar to the sensation she felt when a vampire was near. So, vampires had an early warning signal against Slayers, much the same as the Slayers had against demons.
Which meant that Buffy was approaching. Rolling her eyes, Faith groaned. "Just what I need right now." She muttered, surprised to feel her tongue brush against razor sharp fangs. She hadn't even realised the demon was showing.
The crypt door swung open, the sunlight blazing in, making the chained vampire hiss. Buffy's blonde head poked around the door, one eyebrow rising. "I'm not interrupting some kinda kinky sex game, am I?"
Faith glared at her. "Unchain me."
"What? No please?"
Growling softly, the blonde vampire's golden eyes were blazing. Faith was surprised by the hatred that coursed through her. If she had hated the Slayer, then the demon was a perfect match for her.
"So," Squatting behind the pillar, the blonde cheerfully snapped the chains. "You wanna tell me who chained you up or was I right the first time?"
"A brunette bitch wantin' some bondage fun." Faith shakily got to her feet, rubbing her bloody wrists, fighting the urge to lick the bands of crimson, unaware that the demon visage was still showing. "Where do I get blood round here? I could eat a horse."
"You said a brunette?"
Faith nodded, examining her hands. Long, thin pale fingers. Badly-chipped black nail polish. Blue veins stood out against the deathly white skin, more so than usual. She raised one hand to touch her face. For some reason, she had always imagined vampires to have rough skin, but this vamp's was smooth, soft.
Reaching up to her forehead, she frowned, feeling the raised ridges of skin above her eyes that stretched down her nose. She turned to the blonde Slayer, found the girl's hazel eyes staring at her in confusion. Up at her, which Faith found a little disorientating. The height difference between her and the vampire had been a couple of inches, but it seemed like miles compared to the blonde Slayer.
"Are you...okay, Spike? You're actin' kinda wiggy."
Shrugging, black t-shirt-clad shoulders rose a fraction. "Five by five."
Buffy's brow furrowed in confusion and worry. "What did you say?" She whispered uneasily, her eyes fixed on the blonde vampire.
"Five by...five." Faith immediately realised her mistake. "That's what the brunette chick said to me, when she chained me up. She smelt like...a Slayer."
"Faith." The venom and hatred in Buffy's voice was impressive.
Faith nodded absently, rubbing her hands over her chest, silently admiring the sleek, lean planes of her new body. He wasn't spectacularly muscular, but he was strong, that much she could tell.
"Spike?" Buffy sounded half-amused, half-concerned.
Looking up from the black shirt and jeans, Faith's eyes locked on the pulsepoint in Buffy's throat, the temptation to grab her and plunge her newly claimed fangs into that neck, to taste the sweet, fresh, hot blood of a Slayer almost overwhelming her.
"I'm fine." The blonde, Slayer-possessed vampire hissed, forcing her attention away from the petite Slayer. Storming to the other side of the crypt, distancing herself from the sunlight and Buffy, Faith turned, leaning against the wall and sinking into a sitting position.
The blonde Slayer shrugged, walking towards the door. "You're weird, Spike."
Faith raised her head lazily. "You have no idea, Buffy." The Slayer paused, glancing back in confusion at the vampire's use of her name. Spike's lips curled up in a fang-filled grin. "When you find that bitch, let me know. She owes me."
"Whatever." Stalking out into the daylight, Buffy shook her head. Supposedly, out of the Spike and Drusilla tag team, the blonde vampire had been the sane one, but the way he was acting now suggested otherwise.
Faith watched the door close silently, the sunlight held at bay and exhaled. She had to get that son of a bitch with her body back. She had to find a way to undo the spell. Stuck as a good-looking but fightless, biteless vampire for the rest of eternity didn't strike her as a good deal at all.
But she had to wait all those hours, until the night came. Growling in frustration, she slammed her balled fist against the wall.
It was going to be a very long day.
* * *
"So what are you going to do?"
Wrapping his fingers around the coffee cup, Spike shrugged. "The stupid cow doesn’t know how to undo the mojo she worked on me." He sipped the steaming coffee slowly, his dark eyes staring into the liquid. "I guess I might be stuck as a bloody Slayer, for the rest of my life."
Joyce reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "For what it's worth," She said, with a wry smile. "You look very good."
"A hundred and fifty years as a bloke, mortal and vampire," He ran his fingers through his long hair, glancing across at the mirror. "And then I manage to get myself turned into a chit. And not just any chit...a Slayer." He shook his head mournfully. "I miss my tackle."
Joyce tried not to laugh. Spike glowered at her from behind the brown eyes. "I'm sorry, honestly." She shrugged helplessly. "It was just such a male thing to say...and looking at you...talking about missing 'tackle' just sounds weird."
"Don't forget, I can hit you." He threatened feebly, wagging a finger at her.
Joyce chuckled. "Funnily enough," She reached over to pour some more coffee into the brunette Slayer's cup. "I'm more scared of you in a Slayer's body, than I was when you were a vampire that could still bite me."
"I appreciate the sentiment," The brunette smiled faintly. "But I think I would rather be my old, biteless self, than a female. I'm not used to all the crap that goes with being a girl. Make up, clothes...ladies problems...I like being a bloke too much."
"You could get Willow to help." The Slayer's mother suggested kindly. "I'm sure she would be happy to help...she's a powerful witch, isn't she?"
Spike nodded slightly, a small smile creeping onto his pale, fuller lips. "But not yet." He stated firmly. "I think a couple of days like this...well, I could have some fun...and have revenge on the rightful owner of this body, before I hand it back."
"Revenge?"
Dark brown eyes danced wickedly, the very devil incarnate in those glinting orbs. "A few piercings here, a tattoo or two there." He shrugged elaborately. "I know it's not my usual, bloody standard, but I'm a bit out of practice."
"I think it could be interesting." Joyce's own eyes glinted wickedly. "But!" She held up a stern, maternal finger. "No killing." The brunette pouted in mock disappointment. "You kill a single person and I swear, I'll hunt you down and stake your tackle and leave you in the sun to fry."
Spike snorted with laughter. "Bloody hell, Joyce." He grinned widely at her, shaking his head with silent amusement. "You've got a crackin' pair of wrinklies there, pet."
"Jealous?" She enquired, deadpan.
Brushing a swathe of dark hair back, Spike chuckled. "Worryingly, I believe you would do what you're threatening." She nodded. "But, can I have your permission to do one little thing, before I can be turned back?"
"That depends..."
Smiling widely, Spike's expression was positively jubilant, his cocky grin shining through the Slayer's features. "Can I have your permission to kick your daughter's arse, just for one last time before I go back to being the biteless wonder?"
"I suppose so." Joyce feigned a sigh of discontent. "But no more than usual, okay?"
Spike nodded. "I do wanna survive to see another sunrise." He remarked. "It'll be on of those hit and run things. Bash her around for a minute, then run for cover." He paused, rubbing his slim hands together. "Can you call Willow and explain? I mean, after, so I have a chance of some kind of survival, so Buffy doesn't go schizo on me. I'll send the Slayer to you, so you'll know when to call...unless she figures it out."
"I think we have a deal." Joyce extended a hand and Spike shook it with a grin, his eyes dancing brightly. "As long as you promise to come around for cocoa again so time. Are we...at an understanding?"
Spike nodded, his dark hair falling forward again. "I kill, I get my tackle nailed to the ground. I beat Buffy up too much, you don't call Willow. I behave myself as a vamp, I get cocoa..." He paused, eyeing her. "With the little marshmallows?" He asked hopefully.
"Naturally."
They exchanged grins. "Maybe being biteless won't be so bad." He acknowledged ruefully. "As long as there's little marshmallows."
"You're a strange creature, Spike."
"Don't I know it, Joyce." There was a soft laugh. "Don't I know it."
* * *
Pacing back and forth across the dirt floor of the crypt, Faith growled in frustration, the afternoon seeming to last forever. Her head snapped round, a familiar scent filling her senses.
"Did you miss me?" A voice asked from the door, the flavour of cigarettes and leather filtering into the dank air of the tomb. Stepping in from the burning daylight, Spike grinned at his own body. "I see I had a visitor...anyone interesting?"
"Go to hell."
"With your lovely body?" He shook his head, reaching into one of his large pockets. "No can do, Princess, but I brought you a little snack." Pulling out a full blood bag, he tossed it across to the blonde vampire, who caught it and immediately plunged razor sharp fangs into the plastic, sucking hungrily at the blood. "Nice to see some things still act on instinct."
Glaring at him, Faith was torn between gagging because she - the Slayer - was drinking blood, or savouring the stuff. Even though she was no true vampire, she could tell that the packeted stuff was vile. The demon made certain she knew that.
"And now," Spike continued, tucking hands into his pockets, smiling. "I'm afraid I have to lock the crypt...you see, my little ho comes round every night. You'll be waiting for her, as I usually do and she tends to get...cranky, if she isn't satisfied."
Faith's eyes widened in outraged anger. She lunged at Spike, only to fall back with a howl, clutching her head. "You sick pervert!"
"I think you might have met her before." He added pleasantly, running one hand lazily down her body. "She used to be in the Slayer's class...charming girl called Harmony. I'm sure you'll find some way to keep her...entertained."
Leaving his pathetic body sprawled on the floor with a small, cruel smile curling his lips, he sauntered back out of the crypt, slamming the door tight behind him and sliding the spar of wood in place, to hold it closed.
He could hear the Slayer pounding her fists on the other side. No doubt the demon was showing. She had no control. None at all. Not like him.
"Not even killing people and I'm already getting a happy." Looking at her watch on his wrist, he frowned thoughtfully. It was time to give someone a surprise...but who? Not Buffy, yet. That was being saved for tomorrow.
Not Willow. He didn't want the plan spoiled.
The smile that he felt forming was a combination of pure Spike and Faith combined, a wickedly naughty idea forming, as he broke into a run, his ankles growing accustomed to the bitch's heels.
* * *
Shuffling into the basement, yawning and exhausted, Xander started to pull off his uniform, grateful for the silence that filled the musty room. Tossing his shirt over the back of one of the chairs, he sank wearily onto the couch.
"Howdee, Xander." A sultry, terrifyingly familiar voice purred from the shadows.
Jerking to his feet, the brunette boy's eyes flicked around the room, searching for the owner, his body stiffening, as the figure seemed to dissolve out of the darkness, a long duster sweeping the floor around her feet.
"Faith?"
"Nice to see you remember me." Devoid of make-up, her face was pale and drawn, but her eyes still had that dangerous gleam in them. Her hands were in her pockets, the leather jacket hanging open, leaving her curves visible for all to see.
Backing away, Xander nodded warily. "Considering you tried to kill me the last time I saw you, I think it would be kinda hard to forget, don't you?"
"I tried to kill you?" She sounded almost surprised, lifting one hand to carelessly run it along the surface of the table. "Now, why would I do something like that?" One hand emerged from the jacket.
Holding a cigarette between her lips, Faith's brown eyes never left his face, as she flicked the small silver lighter, inhaling a drag - albeit with a rather unimpressive cough - and blew a ring of smoke carelessly at him.
"Do you want me, Xander?" She crooned softly.
"Er...no thanks...I had you once and that was enough!"
Her eyes widened in astonishment. "Bloody hell! You shagged a Slayer?"
"Bloody hell?" Xander frowned, still backing slowly away. "Since when did you say bloody hell?" He looked her over. "And where the hell did you get that jacket? And that lighter?" A look of unnerved confusion crossed his face. "Did you kill Spike?"
An icy smile crossed Faith's features. "You mean our mutual friend?" Xander groped around behind his back on the workbench for a weapon. "He was a vampire, Xan.” She chuckled once. "Well, he isn't anymore. Why? Lost a friend have you?"
"Not a friend." Xander shot a glare at her. "Not really...I mean, he was okay to have around. Sometimes, he could be all right, but he wasn't a friend."
Faith's smirk returned. "That's all I needed to know."
"Why are you here?" Grabbing a wrench, he waved it threateningly at the dark-haired Slayer, his hands trembling.
"No reason, mate." Faith turned and made her way towards the door, casting an evil look back at him. "And to tell you that you still are a whiny poof, most of the time."
As she disappeared out of the door, Xander dropped the wrench with a clatter, deep lines of confusion marring his brow. "Since when does Faith use words Spike uses?" He asked himself, baffled.
Picking up the phone, he hastily dialed Giles' number. "G-Man, we've had a Faith sighting...in my basement...well, I couldn't exactly stop her going anywhere...she's done something to Spike too...when did Buffy?...right..."
Moments later, the floppy-haired teen headed out the door, on his way over to the Watcher's house, hopefully for some explanations.
* * *
Sitting on one of the large rocks at the top of the hill overlooking the town, Spike tilted his head back letting the setting sun's rays wash over his face, his hair finally dragged back into a ponytail, after it fell across his eyes one too many times.
After finding out that Xander Harris had shagged the body he currently resided in, he was all the more eager for Harmony to find the Slayer-in-Vampire-clothing. Maybe she would feel remotely as defiled as he felt, being forced to accept her shell.
Digging another chocolate bar out of his pocket, he nibbled on it daintily, secure in the knowledge that the Slayer would definitely have to buy herself bigger trousers once she got her body back.
And there was also those tattoos he had done on her backside. Uncomplimentary didn't even come close to covering it.
He chuckled softly, several loose strands of hair captured by the light hand of the wind, but he paid them no heed, watching the massive golden orb sinking slowly. With his back to the main part of town, he stared out in the direction of the coast, miles away.
Now, that would have been a classic idea. A day at the beach, in the sun, but then, he knew he would find something else he would want to do and God knows what damage would come to his own body, if he left the Slayer in it for too long.
Sitting up, he propped his elbows on his knees, cupping his chin in his hands, as the sky went through an aurora of colours he could never recall seeing before.
"Bloody hell," He murmured under his breath, his dark eyes trying to look everywhere at once. "It's almost enough for me to try and start writing that bloody crap poetry I used to write..." He paused, sniggered. "Almost, but not quite."
Shrugging his duster back on, he stretched lazily, arching his body, admiring the way the feminine curves moved. He could never understand how a lot of women could hate their bodies. Women, he decided, were great creatures to watch, sensual and all that, but to be one was a bloody nightmare.
As the darkness fell, the first stars peeking out in the expanse of the sky, he got to his feet again, brushing some dirt of the sleek trousers he was wearing. The Slayer may have been a slutty ho, but she had style.
And he planned to make use of it, heading into the nearest club, to have some fun.
* * *
"So Spike's still alive?"
Buffy nodded. "As far as I know." She replied. "But he said some 'brunette chick' had been in the crypt and he actually said 'Five by five' when I asked him if he was okay...either she’s been giving him speaking-in-slut lessons or our pet vampire has finally gone completely nuts."
"Or they've spent some time in each others company." Xander put in. "She was wearing his duster when she paid me a visit."
The Slayer grinned. "He was chained up, so I'm guessing she stole it from him. It's not exactly something he'd give up without a fight. It's his pride and joy."
"At least we know she's still in Sunnydale." Giles noted, nibbling thoughtfully on the tip of the leg of his glasses.
"And that's reassuring because...?" Buffy leaned back against the sofa with a low sigh. "I wish she'd just turn herself in already. Either that or just come to us and say she’s very sorry, then go and hand herself for arrest or have someone else give her to us as a present."
Willow patted her blonde friend reassuringly on the shoulder. "I'm sure it'll all work out okay." She soothed. "We all know how impatient Faith is...that way, we know it'll be al over soon."
"Reassuring much?"
"She's right, though, Buffy." Giles agreed. He looked as concerned as the Slayer felt, replacing his glasses carefully on the bridge of his nose. "The sooner we get a confrontation over with, the better."
* * *
"Morning, sleepyhead."
"Mum?”
There was a chuckle. “The day a hundred and twenty six year old vampire has the cheek to call me mum, I know I’m getting old.”
Spike reluctantly opened his eyes, to find Buffy’s mother leaning over him, a smile on her face. “Wh...where am I?”
Joyce smiled. "Somehow, you got yourself drunk and ended up on my doorstep. I thought you might want to be up to watch the sun rising."
Blinking sleepily, he nodded. Shakily getting to his feet, he looked down at himself, then up at her in absolute horror. "What am I meant to be?" He demanded, leaning heavily against the wall, swallowing hard.
"A pretty little girl." Joyce grinned wickedly, holding up a camera. "With lots and lots of photographic evidence." A look of pure innocence crossed her face. "Not that pink isn't your colour at all..."
"You really are evil, you know."
"And you really are needing a shower." Gesturing him through to the bathroom, it took all her best efforts to keep a straight face until the door shut.
Spike in Faith's body was disturbing, but a drunken Spike in Faith's body, wearing a pink, fluffy nightshirt and multi-coloured ribbons tied in the Slayer's long, dark hair was a thing she could look back and laugh at for years to come.
Especially when she got the photos developed.
Laying out a clean T-shirt, some jeans and a pair of Buffy's sneakers for the vampire, she shook her head, laughing softly and went down to the kitchen, waiting for the dark-haired, vampire-possessed Slayer's body to come downstairs for a coffee.
She didn't have to wait long, the dull thump-thump-thump of a sleepy, hungover somebody stomping down the stairs followed by a grumble of "Mornin'."
"Coffee?"
"Black, straight and strong." He downed his first cup in a matter of seconds, gasping at the scalding liquid hit the back of his throat. Several more swiftly followed, until Buffy's mother was forced to confiscate the coffeepot.
Bouncing alongside her, as they went out into the yard, to watch the sun coming up, Spike ran in circles, whooping happily and Joyce suddenly remembered why kids were so often banned from drinking coffee.
"What was in that coffee?" He demanded, throwing his arms around her and swinging her off her feet.
Gasping for breath, amid the laughter, Joyce struggled out of the Slayer/Vampire's powerful grip. "It was just coffee, Spike. Caffeine."
"Oh." He paused, pulling his hair back into a ponytail again, as he swung round to face East. "Did I tell you that I get kinda hyperactive on caffeine?"
"I had noticed."
He flashed a broad grin at her. "It'll make me fight all the better." He confided, bouncing in a small square, his brown eyes dancing.
"I bet it will." Half of her was torn between warning Buffy that a crazy, caffeine-hyped vampire was coming after her in human form, while the other half just wanted to be there to see her daughter's face when she inevitably realised who was really in the other Slayer's body.
It would either be very funny, or very violent and at this moment - watching the dark-haired Slayer/vampire running around the yard - she couldn't honestly decide which she thought it would be.
* * *
Walking across the Quad, Buffy glanced up at Riley with a tired smile. They had done a brief sweep together the previous night, passing Spike's crypt only to hear Harmony's whining voice breaking the silence of the night.
Leaving the two blonde vampires to get on with whatever they were doing, the Slayer had decided Spike must be back to normal.
Surprisingly, there had been relatively few vamps about. One of the only ones they had caught had found them, begging Buffy to stake him after he had run in with 'a brunette hellcat' who had battered him to the point of dusting and left him.
The fact that Faith was still able to kick some serious demon ass, even after almost six months in a coma, was worrying, knowing that the brunette Slayer would inevitably be coming after her soon.
Sitting down on one of the benches, she and her boyfriend watched the crowds of students milling around. They only had a few minutes together, before Riley had a class to take. She had several hours until her next class, but they wanted to spend some time together.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, for the hundredth time. He had been filled in on the whole Faith scenario and had slipped completely into over-protective mode, his concern for her both touching and annoying.
"I'm fine." She leaned against his shoulder, resting her hand on his thigh. "I just wish it was all over with. I wish she would stop hiding and face me. The sooner, the better."
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Riley gave her a reassuring hug. "I'm sure it will...Buffy?"
The Slayer was on her feet, whirling around suspiciously, her eyes narrowed. "She's nearby." She said quietly, edging closer to a high row of bushes. "I can feel her..."
A sneakered foot snapped up and smashed her in the face, sending her tumbling backwards, head over heels, leaving her sprawled in a heap as the dark-haired Slayer jogged out of the bushes, taking up a defensive posture.
"Hello, cutie."
Getting to her feet, Buffy gestured for Riley to go and call Giles. "Faith." Her eyes flicked over the supposedly weaker Slayer's body, noticing the clothes she was wearing beneath the duster with an indignant yell. "Those are my clothes!"
"I suppose they are." Faith agreed brightly, a wicked gleam in her dark eyes. "Normally I wouldn't be seen dead in them." She lunged forward, landing several rapid punches across Buffy's face and gut, giving as good as she got.
The kicks and punches flew, fast and furious. Each Slayer was thrown or threw the other, their equal strength, speed and skill making the fight little more than a rapid blur to anyone who happened to be watching.
"What do you want, Faith?" Buffy demanded, mid-sweep, taking the dark Slayer's legs out from beneath her, only for a pair of feet to connect with her gut and knock her backwards. "Why did you come here?"
"I'd say it was for fun." Faith replied with a grin. "Plus your mum gave me permission to kick your arse."
"Don't you bring my mother into this." Buffy snarled, smashing her fist into Faith's face.
Faith snapped an arm up to halt the blow, twisting Buffy's hand sharply up behind her back. "Oh, come on, Slayer." She chuckled. "You always get so touchy when I mention your mum or your latest boytoy. Where are your below-the-belt tactics?"
The blonde snapped a leg up behind her, throwing the brunette back, whirling her arm round, the back of her fist connecting with Faith's grinning face with a crack. "You're goin' down, Faith." She stated icily. "And I'm going to be there to watch."
"Slayer, slayer, slayer," Faith sighed, blocking several blows easily. "You really need to practice the puns that you use, when you're pummeling humans. Even Spike gets better insults than you're givin' me."
"How the hell would you know?" Buffy ducked under a sweeping high kick, only for the reverse strike to catch her across the neck and floor her.
Immediately, Faith swung down, straddling the blonde Slayer's back, one hand on the smaller girl's neck forcing her face against the ground, her arms pinned uselessly at her side. "I know a lot. And now, I know I could kill you, Slayer." She murmured.
"Yeah?"
"But I promised your mum I would behave." There was a throaty chuckle from the brunette Slayer, as she swung to her feet, shaking her dark head with a grin. Offering Buffy a hand, she jerked the blonde to her feet, waiting for the blow that the blonde would inevitably throw. "Now that was fun."
"What?" Buffy looked disorientated and a little blank.
Faith grinned. "Oh, don't tell me that wasn't fun!" Adjusting the collar of the duster, her brown eyes danced with mischief as she eyed Buffy warily. "I've wanted to that to you ever since you ripped that bloody ring off my finger."
The blonde took a confused step back, staring at the brunette Slayer. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Well, pet," Faith flashed her a smirk. "I wanted to kick your sorry arse."
"Pet? Why are you calling me pet?" Buffy's hazel eyes were dark with masked hatred and complete confusion.
The dark-haired Slayer sat down on the back of the bench Buffy had occupied moments earlier, as Riley ran back in scene.
Lighting a cigarette, the brunette looked from the blonde to her boyfriend, a neutral expression on her face.
"Giles is on his way." The Iowa boy draped an arm defensively around his lover's shoulders, glaring at the brunette who nonchalantly blew a spume of smoke at him.
"Something wiggy's going on." Buffy circled the bench, staring at the brunette in confusion.
Faith chuckled. “You’re telling me, luv.” She remarked, tapping some ash from her cigarette. “I’ve got a bloody pair of tits.” Her dark eyes drifted down to the aforementioned attachments with a lazy grin. “I dunno how you can fight with things like this in the way.”
“You said she’d been in a coma, right?” Riley muttered warily. “Did she get hit on the head or something or was she always this...weird?”
“Thanks for the compliment, soldier boy.” Examining the glowing tip of the cigarette between her fingers, Faith cast a glance at him. “You know, I can kick your arse as much as I like now and none of your soddin' chips can do anything to stop me.”
“This is impossible.” Buffy shook her head, one hand rising to her mouth. Her hazel eyes never left Faith’s face.
Faith smirked. “You say that after you saw your Watcher as a Fyarl demon? Five years on the bloody Hellmouth and you still get surprised by this?”
“What’s she talking about, Buffy?” Riley demanded.
Buffy took a step closer to the brunette, reaching out. “Can I...?” Faith shrugged, extending a wrist. The blonde Slayer pressed two fingers to the pulse point. “This is just too wiggy.”
“B-Buffy? What are you doing?”
The blonde turned to face her Watcher, her expression one of disbelief and confusion as she dropped Faith’s wrist. “That isn’t Faith.” She stated quietly.
Giles looked from one girl to the other. Faith waved her fingers in a greeting, then raised the cigarette to her lips again. “What do you mean?” He asked slowly, wondering if perhaps Buffy had taken one too many blows to the head. “That’s obviously Faith.”
Propping her elbows on her bent knees, Faith smirked at him, cupping her chin in one hand and flicking the ash off her cigarette with the other. “This is gonna take some convincing, luv.” She remarked dryly. “Although the duster’s a bit of a give away.”
“Did...did she just say ‘luv’?” Giles eyes flicked from Slayer to Slayer, his question directed at Buffy, not trusting his own ears.
“Is the pillock getting a bit deaf in his old age?” Faith smirked, flicking the cigarette into the damp grass. At the Watcher’s incredulous expression, the brunette Slayer pushed herself off the seat and took a lazy step towards him. “Like the new look, Watcher?”
“Good Lord.” Giles blinked fitfully behind his glasses. “How on earth did this happen?”
Faith shrugged. “Dunno. I was walking home, minding my own beeswax two nights ago and some freaky little bitch ran into. Nice big glow show ensued and the next thing I know, here I was, complete with a pulse.”
“Would someone please tell me what the hell’s going on?” Buffy’s boyfriend looked completely lost.
Shoving her hands into her duster pockets, Faith stalked over to the former commando, looking him up and down. “He really isn’t very bright, is he?” She remarked, raising one hand and tracing her fingertips down his chest. Rising on her toes, she murmured. “You might know me as...Hostile seventeen.”
Both Slayers released a laugh, as the commando stumbled back, a startled look on his confused face.
“Tell me, Slayer,” Faith turned her attention back to her counterpart, “Did you go anywhere near my crypt last night?”
Buffy nodded. “It sounded like Harmony was there with Spike...er...okay. Now, I’m just confused.” She gave him a wry grin. “I’m guessing the you in the crypt is Faith?” Faith nodded. “Definitely explains a lot.”
“What are we going to do about this, then?” The brunette Slayer’s hands spread, revealing the feminine figure that masked the nature of a soulless vampire. “I’ve had my fun, but I wanna be me again.”
“I dunno...” Buffy smirked. “Leaving Faith in the body of a biteless vampire sounds like poetic justice.” Faith glared at her. “Although having you in the body of the Slayer might not be too healthy for me.”
“I suggest we...find Willow.” Giles spoke quietly, removing his glasses and rubbing them frantically. “She and Tara may be able to help us solve this little mystery.” Turning to the brunette, he felt the absurd need to grin, as he said. “Spike, will Faith be secure where she is?”
Faith chuckled softly. “It’s daylight, Giles.” The vampire reminded him, that normal cynical, Spike-ish humour glinting from the brown eyes. “Where is she going to go without getting herself toasted?”
“Good point.”
* * *
“You mean I had Spike flirting with me in Faith’s body?” Xander shuddered visibly. “I think I’m going to be scarred for life now.”
Grinning wickedly as they made their way through the darkened cemetery, Spike couldn’t help but laugh at surreality his undead life had, ever since falling in with this crowd of crazy teenagers. “Yeah, Xan, you’re just a sex God.” He cooed, reaching out to stroke the brunette teen’s thigh.
“Stop that, Spike.” Buffy chastised him fondly. He may have been a homicidal maniac who had tried to kill her more times than she cared to count, but he did have his truly comic moments.
The brunette Slayer shrugged. “Couldn’t help meself, pet.”
Reaching the familiar crypt, one hand rose and tapped sharply on the door. “Hello? Princess? Are you still in there? Did you miss little old me?”
“Screw you.” The familiar English accent growled back.
Gesturing for the others to wait, Spike lazily wandered in, grinning down at his own body, the Slayer’s ferocity gleaming from behind the blue eyes. “Did you have fun with Harm, pet?” He enquired.
“Oh yeah.” Back against the wall of the crypt, forearms resting on upraised knees, the blonde glared at him furiously. “She was wicked horny and wanted to play all damn night. I got kinda...pissed.”
Kicking a small object with the toe of the vampire’s boot, the stake clattered across the floor, landing neatly in a soft pile of smoky-grey ash.
“You staked her?”
“I’m a Slayer, blondie.” She retorted sharply. “It’s what I do.”
Spike chuckled. “Poor Harm. All she wanted was some whipped puppy to worship her like the geeks at school.” Walking across the crypt floor, the duster swirled around his slender form, as he bent to pick up the stake.
“Whatcha gonna do with that?” Faith demanded suspiciously, clambering to her feet uneasily, her hands balling into fists.
“Bugger all.” Spike replied merrily. “You’re just gonna get this lovely body of yours back, luv. I hate to say it, but mortality is overrated.”
“Call in the cavalry then.” Faith’s eyes blazed at the vampire. “Let’s get this over with.”
“My sentiments exactly, luv.” Straightening up, he shrugged the duster off the female body and carelessly tossed it over one of the sarcophagi, looking down at his own body with a low sigh. “My sentiments exactly.”
* * *
Turning over his death-white hands, Spike trailed a black-polished nail over the veins he could see through the pale skin, a wide grin playing on his features. Running a fingertip over his heavy silver ring, he exhaled a relieved sigh.
His duster was back, on the body it belonged to, hanging with loose familiarity on his shoulders, heavy over the comfortably familiar black jeans and scruffy black T-shirt.
The Slayer always said she wanted to see him in something different. Something other than those black clothes he always favoured. And now, she had, but not quite in the way she had been expecting.
Glancing over at the mirror, he pulled a face. Apart from the sun, that was the one thing he was really going to miss, now that he was back in his own body. The ability to see what he looked like, either in reflection or by having someone else in his body.
“Why the face?” A voice enquired, drawing his attention back from the empty mirror on the opposite wall.
Accepting a mug of cocoa, he tossed a handful of marshmallows to melt on the steaming surface. “I was just remembering what it was like having a reflection again.” He replied with a small smile.
“But you don’t regret being switched back into your own body?” Joyce slid into the seat opposite him, taking some marshmallows for her own cocoa.
Remembering the bizarre tattoos he had littered the Slayer’s body with, the...uncomfortable piercings he had had placed, here and there, he chuckled softly. “I’m glad to be me.” He replied, with a wicked grin.
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