Becoming Me

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

16: CLOSER BUT FARTHER AWAY

The middle-aged man read over his glasses, frowning at the scribbled number on the back of his wife’s grocery list. He lifted the phone receiver and punched in the numbers. After only a single ring, a male voice answered, frantic with anticipation. “Yes? This is Rupert Giles.”

“How do you do, Rupert? It’s Adam Shawcross...I have flown to Los Angeles, to visit an old friend, and this city seems overrun with vampres...You – you have no idea...It’s a bloody massacre.” Giles heard the other Watcher suck in a hurried breath. “However, there seems to be...a vigilante group, or the like; I witnessed one in particular –“

Giles cut in. “Blonde?”

“Why, yes,” replied Adam. “And very strong. Dressed in black...In fact, the, erm, thought crossed my mind that he might be –“

“He? The vigilante was male?” asked Giles, with mounting disappointment.

“Why, erm, yes he was. Very decent training, though; he fought like one of our Slayers. Why did you...”

Giles took his time in answering. “Buffy...my Slayer...is missing. We believe she –“

“Oh!” exclaimed Adam.

“ – Ran away.” Giles frowned. “Adam, did you say something?”

“Good Lord, imagine that!” Adam stared at the hotel television, transfixed. The fearful-looking news castor described a mysterious hero who had been seen by numerous witnesses the previous night. A home video clip was displayed, showing the vigilante in action. “Erm, Rupert,” asked Adam, “Miss Summers is blonde, is she not?”

“She is.”

Adam watched the blonde hair flip around as the fighter delivered a roundhouse kick to a vampire’s chest. “And rather petite?”

“Indeed.”

“Hazel eyes...Very youthful and American dress sense?”

Giles stood up in excitement, causing several folios to fall to the floor. He grinned at Xander, so extatic he could barely form words. “Adam, I- I can’t belive – I will be there, in Los Angeles, in a few hours.”

“I will wait for you, and in the meantime I will work to pinpoint your Slayer’s location, and see that she remains in Los Angeles.”

There was a silence as Giles struggled to process the new developments. After several bewildered looks from Xander, Willow, Cordelia, and Oz, he spoke. “Thank you, Adam.”

* * * * *
Buffy couldn’t sleep. Beside her, Spike rested peacefully for the few hours sunrise. It was still weird, to see herself from the outside. She couldn’t get over how weird it was to have just screwed herself - in the literal, physical sense – and from the outside. So instead, what she kept telling herself was that she’d screwed Spike. The problem was, she couldn’t get over that either. It was strange to have fraternized with the enemy in such an intimate way. Not that Spike and I are intimate in any way, Buffy assured herself.

The problem was, she liked the whole deal, the sleeping-with-the-dangerous-bad-boy-evil-killer deal. Sure, the blonde vamp wasn’t Angel, but as Buffy wasn’t looking to fall in love for another few millennia, that was fine. She was ready to move on.

Spike made a “Mmph!” sound and rolled away from Buffy. Grin spreading across her face, Buffy grabbed his shoulder and descended on his mouth. Kissing her own face was a strange sensation, but so much about the past week had been strange that Buffy had begun to adjust.

Spike mumbled into her mouth. When she freed his lips, he repeated himself. “What the bloody hell, Slayer! Are you trying to smother me in my sleep?”

Biting back laugher, Buffy shoved him off the bed. “Maybe I should!” she shouted “God, you’re annoying!” She watched as he stood up from the floor in his full, nude glory, and tried to imagine what Spike would be thinking if he were back in his body, and she in hers.

Suddenly she sprang off the bed and catapulted into Spike, tackling him to the ground once more. He groaned as his head contacted the floor. Buffy captured his lips once more. As the kiss deepened, she rubbed up against his body, trying to create as much contact between his skin and her naked chest as possible. Spike’s hands snaked down her sides to the waistband of the jeans she stubbornly insisted upon sleeping in, fingers poised to pop the button. Buffy groaned and kissed his neck.

“Ready for the repeat performance, luv?”

She could not contain a ragged sigh. “Let’s try the non-Sea World edition this time, ok?” Spike laughed loudly and rolled the pair of them over. Buffy watched him in anticipation as he kneeled over her knees, unzipping the jeans and pulling them off, trailing feminine, delicate fingertips down her thighs. She wondered if the whole have-sex-with-yourself-without-jerking-off thing was as embarrassing for him as it was for her, but if Spike was self-conscious or ashamed of the strangeness, he didn’t let it be easily known. His expression betrayed no feelings but lust, and if Buffy hadn’t already somehow made the decision to trust the ex-vamp, she would be terrified by the look of a predator. Spike wore Buffy’s face like a mask that molded to his primeval power, and Buffy was shocked to realize it was possible for her own face to look so...demonic.

Spike stanched the stream of thoughts with a gentle frown. “Somethin’ up, pet?”

She glanced down at her erection, causing both of them to smile, and then admitted, “I don’t really know what I’m doing... I was probably pretty bad last time...” She ignored the shake of his head and said, “Anyway, you might have to teach me...stuff.”

He watched her for a moment, and then took her hand, bringing it between his legs. “Lesson the first,” he announced. “Foreplay: defined as contact –“

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I know what foreplay means, dumbass.” To demonstrate her point, she began moving her fingers against him, slowly and tantalizingly. As if by accident, she occasionally brushed across his clit. Then after a few passes she centered her attention on it, teasing the bundle of nerves by darting her finger from side to side without ever completely contacting.

“You seem to be doing fine,” Spike pronounced unevenly. “Don’t know what your –“ his breath hitched as she pinched his clit roughly and proceeded to rub more insistently – “Bloody problem is.”

She slipped two fingers inside, wiggling them and feeling his muscles tighten. “I know. I know, it’s just...I’m not sure, I think – I keep thinking I’ll do something, you know, wrong...”

She began pumping her fingers hesitantly, but as Spike shoved himself down onto her fingers repeatedly, the pace quickened. As Buffy felt his core begin to drip around her fingers, she developed an itching, burning desire, something that wanted to wriggle, shove, fight and consume...

“Just do what comes naturally, luv.” He moved her hand aside and sank down onto her hard length. She gasped in pleasure and tried to push in harder, deeper. For a few seconds Spike and Buffy battled, both trying to thrust without pulling out, and then Spike retreated to sink down once more. He repeated the action, and Buffy coordinated her thrusts so that their hips crashed together at the same time. Each stab of her cock sent shocks of pleasure into her body. She couldn’t believe that anything had felt that good, ever, and the thrusting became rough and impatient. She wanted and she wanted more, and she attacked with all of her strength, sure she would hurt Spike but not really caring amidst the heat and sweat. She felt close to a prize, nearly able to reach out and grab it, and so she pounded harder and harder until somehow she won.

Suddenly there was no space for any sensation but extreme bliss... “Fuck, Buffy!” She heard Spike scream, and he collapsed onto her sweaty, naked chest, panting. She reached out to run her fingers over his blonde hair, which was damp with sweat and beautiful.

Every inch of their skin was slick and shiny. Buffy reached out to slide her hand over Spike’s moist shoulder. “Sea World or not, we’re not exactly dry,” she commented with a smile.

Spike laughed into her neck.

* * * * *

Amelia pulled into an impeccable parallel-park in front of a large house that left very little space for its landscaping. The demon’s voice played in her head with the accuracy of a sound clip. What is taking you so long, human? You would think my promise of power would be more than enough incentive...I need the two who block my path destroyed; my rise to this dimension is long overdue! A few centuries past...For now I try to forget, but when the entire world is under my control, I will punish those responsible... Amelia made a slight shake of her head in disapprobation. Demons were so full of themselves.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the once-cared-for flowerbeds, which swelled over the crests of the landscaped hills. The entire house looked past its prime; a nice and expensive abode, but having faded into the realm of the shabby. Amelia knocked on the door, but it was opened before her fourth knock.

A gap-toothed vampire scowled. “You’re not the Chinese2Go guy,” she whined, and Amelia shuddered at the girl’s combination of fatty and muscular bulk. An equally threatening and more unattractive male sauntered into view, his hand equivocating between his running over his monstrous forehead ridges or his dimpled shaven head. Finally it settled on caressing the vampiric wrinkles with confidant, manly pride.

“This chic’ll do in a pinch, sweetness,” he drawled. As the pair reached toward her, Amelia brought her hands up in front of her face, fingers flexed, and suddenly the vampires jumped back as if burned. Seconds later every inch of their skin burst out with red, oozing blisters. “Did you see that?” The male asked. “Did you see that!”

Suddenly someone dropped down from an indoor balcony, and Amelia recognized the tousled purple hair. Amber’s tattered black ensemble, she was aware, bestowed upon her a sinister flair, and making the most of it, she smoothed the fabric of her skirt with her fingers. Amber shot a withering glare at the female vamp, growling, “Becca, get him the fuck outta here. You know the rule: no dates, no mates, nada? Boyfriends are strictly not allowed in the House.” Becca made obscene use of her middle finger and pulled the male vampire out of the room.

Amber then turned her attention to her employer. “Yo, Real Estate Slutswoman. Fancy meetin’ you here. Can I help ya with somethin’? Like, the way to the door?”

Amelia forced a practiced smile into her lips and snapped her fingers. A flame burst into existence, dancing on an invisible wick which seemed to float above her palm. “Business, Amber. It seems the pair of captives escaped, no? I want you to get them back for me...I believe I mentioned it before, but word on the streets, in the bars and demon clubs, claims that the Vampire Slayer is in town. News stations have posted images of a pair of ‘mysterious heroes,’ who were seen fighting vampires last night. The odd thing is this – look at me, Amber, I really do think you’ll want to hear this – the picture matched our captives.”

Amelia smiled, and Amber watched, her eyebrows raised in disdain.

“It’s funny. When the idea of a body-switched spell was first suggested to me, I evaluated it as implausible. However...I think it likely that we had the Slayer in our hands before you...allowed her escape. The Slayer, in the body of a vampire...What I recommend, Amber, is that find this Slayer again and bring her to me – and this time I want her to stay where I leave her, understand?”

Amber nodded sharply, but without her usual rebellious zest. The small girl watching from behind the window curtain wasn’t positive; but she thought Amber looked scared.

* * * * *

“So the question arises: where we are?”

Xander looked at Oz and shrugged. Willow smiled and suggested that maybe Giles did, just as the Englishman slammed his fist into the dashboard. “Bugger!” he exclaimed. “We’ve been going in the entirely wrong direction. Adam has booked us rooms in the hotel that is about ten minutes away from where we were an hour ago. Bugger!”

Cordelia sighed and leaned into Xander. “Wake me up, okay?” He nodded and kissed her forehead tenderly.

Giles swore several more times and motioned for Oz to turn around.

* * * * *

A rap on the door tore Buffy and Spike away from their semi-nude television watching, causing Buffy to pull a black T-shirt over her head and scamper to the door. A trim waiter handed Buffy a small tray which bore a thin piece of paper. “Thanks?” she told him.

“It’s the daily invoice of your accumulated room bill. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks,” she repeated a bit more assuredly, and closed the door. Spike snatched the invoice and skimmed it.

Suddenly he started. “Bollocks!” He waved the paper in the air in frustration and then sat on the bed.

“What is it?” Buffy asked curiously.

“It’s un-fucking-believable, that’s what. Unless you’ve got a couple grand hidin’ in that bitty purse of yours, we’re right snookered, we are!”

Buffy stalked over. “Spike, translate. What are you – “

“We can’t pay the bleedin’ bill, is what I’m saying.”

Buffy read over his shoulder. “Spike, chill. I have got some money. Between us we can pay this, but...I don’t think we can stay here anymore. We need to find somewhere less...”

Spike nodded. “There’s this place, a few blocks down. It’s shabby, but it’ll do.” Buffy left to gather their things, which were scattered around the room.

* * * * *

“I hate you. I loathe you, with a filthy, disgusting hatred...” Buffy squeezed her eyes shut as she followed Spike down the narrow hallway. The room was only $10 a night, but it seemed all their neighbors were prostitutes and vagrant dope-fiends.

“I hate you, Slayer,” Spike replied cheerfully as he threw open the door to the tiny room. One, rickety bed stood in the center of an otherwise empty room. The curtains were moth-eaten, the carpet had numerous unsightly dark stains, and there was a lone cobweb in a neglected corner. The bathroom was roughly 6 feet by 6 feet, and was filled with a very cheap toilet and sink and a shower stall that was nearly too narrow for a single person.

“I’m so glad I stopped Acathla,” Buffy said as she grimaced at the meager accommodations. “If Hell on earth had made everything turn into this...I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” Spike laughed at her and Buffy glared back.

* * * * *

Adam rushed over to Giles and the two excitedly shook hands. “I have wonderful news,” Adam announced. “I tracked Miss Summers’s credit card, and she made a purchase in this very hotel, so I asked if there was a Miss Summers renting any of the rooms. The receptionist was extraordinarily helpful, and she told me that Miss Summers is staying in room number 215! I have been awaiting your arrival in the highest of spirits.”

The group trekked up to the second floor and located room 215. After calling “Buffy?” and knocking repeatedly without receiving any answer, Giles banged his forehead against the wall. A worried employee paused in navigating the hallways to watch the group. A strange looking bunch, but...She remembered the couple that had checked into room 215, the husband and wife. There had been something strange about them as well, she remembered from the reception counter. But both of them had seemed pretty nice. Deciding to help, she offered, “The people in that room checked out about an hour ago. That blonde girl, is she a friend of yours?”

The Scoobies nodded, returning to their rooms disheartened. They still couldn’t seem to find Buffy...although at least they were close.

One thing bothered Willow, however, as she snuggled up beside Oz. The employee had said, “people,” The people in that room... If Buffy were indeed one of those people, who were the others? It appeared that Buffy, contrary to what everyone had thought, was not hiding somewhere alone.

* * * * *

The woman felt a powerful slap on her cheek. Defiantly, she swiveled to meet the golden eyes of the vampire. Amber grabbed her shoulders. “What have I told you, woman? I said, ‘stay inside the House.’ ‘Under no circumstances are you to leave the House.’ ‘If you go outside the House, you will most likely be killed.’ Do you have a death wish, you idiot?”

“I’m not an idiot,” she hissed.

“Neither am I,” snapped Amber. “Vampires are predators, killers. We prey on the weak and the solitary.” She forcefully shoved the mother through the doorway. “The second you step out that door, you’ve got no protection. Maybe you wanna die, but what about your daughter?”

The woman heard crashes in the background as Revolvers smashed something breakable. Outside in the shadows, minions scurried two and fro.

“Something would happen, cos you left her unprotected. That’s not what you want, is it?” With a fierce growl, Amber disappeared into the darkness, anger fueling her lust for the hunt.

One hunt in particular. One girl, with strength and speed and ferocity...Just the idea of that one meeting caused Amber’s body to thrum with anticipation.

She knew that Amelia was wrong – the girl in Spike’s body was not the Slayer. However, she could not deny the rumors among the demon community. The Slayer was in Los Angeles, particularly in her part of Los Angeles. Spike had mentioned the Slayer, several times, so she had reason to believe they were connected.

She was confident in the achievability of her plan, but at the same time she felt more nervous and alone than ever. She was going to find the Slayer. For better or for worse.

Author's note: I've gone back and changed several instances where Amber knew that Buffy was the Slayer. From this point on, she DOESN'T know that, she just knows that Buffy's name is Buffy and that she's in Spike's body. More coming soon, hopefully, so REVIEW!!!