Becoming Me

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

18: TIP OF THE SCALES

“I can’t believe we missed her!” Xander banged his head into the doorway, seconds later drawing back to utter an enraged “Ow!”

“I know,” agreed Oz calmly. “What are the odds.”

Giles stared at the weather channel blankly. The entire Scooby gang had congregated in his room to moan and share their depression, but Giles didn’t want to share. Somehow, he had to be responsible for Buffy’s running away. He should have been more supportive, or more understanding...He chuckled to himself. That’s it! I should have supported her lingering feelings for the ex-boyfriend who murdered Jenny! But still, he felt responsible. Her note had been very brief and distracted, being hardly verbose in its explanation of her need for some time away, and of her feeling of isolation in Sunnydale. “I just feel like there’s no one here to understand me. I’ve lost everything and no one here cares,” she’d written. Well, Giles cared, and he was making sure it was clear to everyone.

Oz watched his redheaded girlfriend’s eyebrows draw into a frown. “What is it, Wil?”

“What people?” she murmured again. She hoped that maybe, by repeating it over and over, something might occur to her...

”I’ve got help,” Buffy assured her.

Willow frowned, wishing she could see her friend face-to-face. “What help?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Oz?” Willow glanced around at the other Scoobies before she was satisfied that they were preoccupied with their own thoughts. “I don’t think Buffy ran away alone.”

“Maybe she’s ok then.” Oz ran his fingers through Willow’s hair.

She smiled. “I hope so. Only, if she had...whoever she ran away with...I don’t get why she left at all, if she’s ok. You know? I mean, if people want to visit someplace else, they...visit. If they run away, then they’ve got to be running from something, you know? So maybe this person makes things better than they’d be otherwise, but...I don’t think she’s really ok. I think...She doesn’t think we care about her, Oz!” The werewolf made a sympathetic expression. “I wish I could find her, and tell her that I do care.”

“How’re you gonna find her?”

Willow looked guiltily at Giles’s inattentive face and turned back to Oz. “I...there’s this spell, a locator spell. It shouldn’t be too hard to do, as long as Giles isn’t doing his protective mother-hen thing.”

“He does have a tendency to cluck,” commented Oz with a straight face. Willow giggled and then lapsed into thought.

“I hate to lie to him, but if I tell Giles I’m gonna drop by my aunt’s house before I go home, I’ll have a chance to look for Buffy. You could stay if you want...”

Oz shook his head. “I’d love to, but the next three nights are – “

“Of course, how could I forget! Wolf nights, you need your cage..Well, I’ll call you, to check up, let you know if the results are the good type or the bad type.”

“Cool.” With a gentle smile, Oz leaned over to gently kiss Willow’s lips.

* * * * *

Buffy tore into Spike’s lips savagely, driven by a feeling of desire she’d begun to accept. She wanted Spike, really wanted, but it wasn’t so bad because...Well, the because seemed to defy logic, but pro-Spike arguments prominently featured points like “he’s been sorta nice so far,” and “he hasn’t killed me yet.” Not the world-class defense of the century, but over the past week it had improved by gaining a couple good points, and Buffy assumed that it would continue to be more convincing with time. The most convincing argument, which won Buffy’s moral battle every time, was the most logical, in an insanely simplistic sense: “Who am I trying to convince anyway?” Her friends were in Sunnydale, and her mother was out of the picture. It was just herself and Spike, and as long as neither of them cared...

Buffy frowned as Spike pushed her away. “Not now, Slayer,” he said. He looked sympathetic when he saw her hurt face, and added, “Jus’ not in the mood.” Spike glowered at the entire room, and then kicked the wall, leaving a small dent in the plaster and causing small shards of ceiling to fall over both of them. “Blasted, fucking motel,” he growled.

“Yeah...not big with the hygiene,” Buffy said with an awkward laugh, gazing at the stained rug instead of at the girl in front of her.

“I hate this place. I forgot how much I...hate this place.” He returned to the bed and sat down on it, causing its springs to whine.

Buffy crawled up behind him and pressed her palms into his back, rubbing up and down in a seductive massage that made Spike close his eyes. “Maybe...I can distract you into forgetting?” Buffy suggested, bringing her mouth close to his ear. Damn, she kind of wanted to bite him; her lithe Slayer body came with a delectable neck. Buffy frowned when she saw the mark Spike had left their on their trip to Los Angeles – she’d remembered the heat of the moment but forgotten the actual bite.

Suddenly Spike stood up and whirled around to face her. “Would you stop actin’ like you’re Dru? You’re not!”

“I – “ stammered Buffy, at a loss for words. She felt like getting up off the bed and running, running anywhere so long as it was away.

“Dru’s my girlfriend. She does all the girlfriend things... You just – “

“Are here for the frequent, easy-access sex?” snapped Buffy angrily. “Well good, cos, you too! If I wanted something more, I’d go find –“ Angel. Who was dead. Not to mention evil. Great plan, Buffy, nice one.

“Pet...” He didn’t know what to say. He needed to work out his own feelings before he could deal with Buffy’s. He couldn’t think straight, because he hated their room, he hated the whole bleedin’ motel. He and Dru had murdered a clerk and stayed in a room in this very same motel, and he couldn’t stop thinking about his Princess. They’d had so much fun, killing together... He missed all the little things he loved about her, all the things he couldn’t explain that meant everything to him. She was just...Dru, and he needed her. Buffy’s presence beside him made him seethe with frustration over how close he was to the Slayer, yet how far from his love. Not that he minded being near Buffy – she was a growing on him, and in addition to liking her body he was enjoying her smile...But she wasn’t Dru. He knew his Princess missed him, and even though he wanted to beat her til she bled and sobbed an apology about being with Angelus, his anger was beginning to fade.

Brief moments of clarity made him fear what he’d done, teaming up with the Slayer and then driving her to fucking Los Angeles. Buffy obviously was using him to ignore her grief over the death of her great pouf, but Spike worried he might be on rebound himself – also because of something that was Angel’s fault.

Fucking bastard! Spike screamed inside his own head. He looked again at the very confused Slayer, staring at him with hurt and bewilderment. It dawned on him that the thing that made insane anger bubble up the most when looking at Buffy was her similarity to Drusilla. Both women were stubborn and difficult to handle. Both had their own intricacies that were horribly aggravating but that Spike missed after only a few minutes of separation from them. And, he realized with a sudden desire to rip something to shreds, they were both Angel’s leftovers.

Spike hated how his love for Dru was always somehow dwarfed by Angel’s past with her. How he could never have that part of her, never be Angel, and never seem to win. Although he was positive he didn’t love Buffy, he knew Angel still won where she was concerned as well, and it made him want to kill.

He realized Buffy had been talking, forcing cheerfulness into her voice. “...Really pegged you down for a brooder, but you’re worse than Angel right now.” Suddenly his fist was slamming into her cheek, and Spike was watching as the girl in his body flew backwards and slammed into the headboard. “Spike...” she whispered, with shock and confusion.

“Just shut your trap ‘bout the bastard? Alright?” He frantically ran his fingers through his blonde hair and began pacing. Buffy nodded meekly and stayed hunched on top of the pillows. “Fuck, Buffy! I don’t know what’s gotten into me... It’s just this room, and that dream...”

She let out a very small amount of air. “It bothers you that we had the same dream.”

The thought hadn’t occurred to him, but Spike didn’t say anything to challenge it. He’d never shared dreams with Dru, except once when they’d fallen asleep right after shagging and had both dreamed about carrying on for longer. But with Buffy, it had been entire...He was beginning to hate their synchronicity and togetherness, beginning to hate her and everything she meant concerning his future and his feelings. He wasn’t evil, he was shacked up with the Slayer, shagging her and getting hooked on it, sharing her dreams and beginning to hate referring to their coupling as shagging because it was more... He spoke abruptly as he turned and walked to the sliding glass doors. ”I’ll be outside.”

* * * * *

“Oz, thanks for letting me do this in your van.”

“No problem. As long as no hippos appear on top of my guitar, I’m cool.”

Willow smiled at her boyfriend over her assortment of herbs. “The sooner I find Buffy, the more time I have with her. If I do this right the first time, I can find her before you and the others go home. Then you wouldn’t have to wonder how I was doin’.” She flashed him one of her adorable smiles and Oz watched her contentedly from his seat.

“Quaero, reperio, illustrio.”

The entire map shimmered.

“Any luck?” asked Oz.

A small bead of light lit up above the map, walking up and down the streets of a certain seedy section of town. Willow grinned. “Looks like. Can you take me there?”

“Sure thing.”

* * * * *

“Aaaaaaaah!” The mage jumped a few inches in the air when he turned to see the vampire standing in the doorway.

Amber grinned. “Nice. That was very manly. Now, business – I’ve heard that your prices for spells are cheap when your clients intimidate you with bumpies and fangs, so here’s my small gift of cash, let’s get to work. I want a locator spell done on the Slayer.”

The mage edged away. “I don’t...I’m not very good at locating – “

“Oh, stuff it,” exclaimed Amber joyously. “I saw you at that Real Estate bitch’s place. Dunno why she needed you, since she’s a good ol’ Wicked Witch of the West herself, but –“

“You like Wizard of Oz?” asked the mage in hopeful diversion. “I’ve got this awesome spell, I call it the ‘Wicked Witch of the West’...”

Amber kicked his shin and caused him to shut up. “Will it tell me where the Slayer is?”

The mage smiled a forced smile. “It’s a very attractive spell, visually. And yes, it’s an element of my flashiest locator spell.” Blabbing as he went, the mage poured several ground herbs into various metal cups. As he snapped his fingers and caused each cup to brim with deep orange flames, he turned back to Amber. “The...Slayer, you said? Vampire Slayer? Funny...You wouldn’t by any chance happen to know this other client of mine, by the name of Drusilla? She’s a bit taller than you, dark hair...”

“You did a spell for Drusilla?”

“That I did! I did the Wicked Witch of the West, and I also did this really complicated one, the Haitian Body Exchange –“

Amber’s golden eyes snapped up and bored into the mage’s. “You did that. You switched Buffy and Spike.”

“That I did! Though I must say, Drusilla was a tad disappointed at Spike’s reaction to being in the Slayer’s body...” he chuckled, and instantly silenced himself when he noticed Amber was not laughing as well.

The purple-haired vampire, however, was not listening to anything the mage said. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the oval of smoke, which had swirled to create a colorful picture of a bleach-blonde vampire leaving a motel room and walking out onto the street.

“There you go, there’s your Slayer. Product of my lovely Haitian Body Exchange, of course...”

“That’s the Slayer, inside there?” Amber asked in disbelief. “Buffy’s the Slayer?”

No, it can’t be. Not a new Slayer. Not yet.

A redhead climbed out of a strangely painted van, her nose buried in a map. Suddenly Buffy noticed the human and ran closer, glad that the sky was heavily overcast and the sun was hidden behind thick rainclouds. “Oh my god, Wil!” She reached to hug the girl, who instead backed away fearfully.

“Spike? What are you...oh. Oh! It was you! Where’s Buffy?”

“Wil, it’s me. Buffy. I’m right here.”

Willow frowned, but a glance at the map showed that Buffy was indeed right in front of her. “Then, um, why do you look like...Spike?”

“Well, our bodies switched. But he’s...back at the motel, kicking the walls or something. He’s kinda funny when he’s pissed off.”

Willow returned Buffy’s exuberant hug but then frowned again. “Buffy, are your sure it’s safe to...you know, stay with him? I mean, he’s killed several Slayers –“

“Two,” interjected Buffy.

“And he’s in love with a vampire who kills them, too. Don’t you remember?”

“Wil, of course I remember. But...What Dru decides to do isn’t Spike’s fault, and that last time...It was mostly my fault that...she died.”

Amber was incapable of listening to the rest of the girls’ conversation. All she could think was, The Slayer is dead. She knew there were logical questions she should be asking, such as, ‘how could the death of her predecessor be Buffy’s fault?’ But Amber didn’t feel like logic.

Buffy was the Slayer. There was only one Slayer; she was the Chosen One, only called to action after the demise of the girl who came before her. So Buffy had become the Slayer, and it meant that Amber’s Slayer was dead.

Amber was in the mood for a kill.

* * * * *

Spike heard footsteps on the other side of the cinderblock wall. Fuck, he should have brought a stake, or something... The footsteps stopped and Spike imagined that feet were poised to pounce. Spike felt his Slayer sense tingling, and as adrenaline coursed through his body he felt more comfortable, calmer, his Slayer body preparing for a fight.

The vampire vaulted over the wall and landed calmly in front of him. “Spike, my darling,” she crooned as she glided towards him.

“Dru...” Spike felt her kissing his lips and licking them intermittently, and he feverishly returned the attention. “Baby, I missed you so much. He wondered why he hadn’t done this last time they’d met, and saved Dru several days’ pain...

“Come away with me, my Spike,” Dru murmured. “Don’t let that pesky Slayer get in between – “

“She’s not in between anything!” snapped Spike defensively, and then he apologetically kissed his Princess again. “I want my own body back, Dru, before I go anywhere. I don’t know –“

“I can undo it, Spike. Un-entwine you and from that snake til your whispers are like memories...”

Spike frowned at the emphatic vampire. “Dru...” he murmured, before being cut off by Drusilla’s mouth once more.

“I’ll come back for you, dear 'eart. After I make you 'ole again, and then we’ll see you 'aven’t changed. No one can change my Spike.” He nodded as he watched her jump over the wall and disappear, but he felt a little sick.

He was fairly certain he had changed. Maybe he could change back, but...in the glass doors he could see the image of a petite Slayer, with her beautiful face pressed into a confused frown. Maybe he could change back, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

* * * * *

Mr. Brown stared at his work in shock. After numerous spells to trace magical residue of the bond between the vampire and the Slayer, he’d finally reached a conclusion.

Haitian Body Exchange, certainly. He would have known it earlier if the answer had been that simple.

Only the bond was stronger, somehow, some darker power tied the two together, something summoned from the nether realm. Something powerful enough that it obscured the entire flow of energy for miles around, and also something dark enough that he’d been able to trace its origin to a variety of gypsy curses. Mr. Brown had been taught that controlling the gypsy magic was like taming a wild beast, full of its own free will. If vigilance were relaxed for one crucial moment during a spell, then the primal forces could spin out of the sorcerer’s control.

Mr. Brown still was not completely sure what had gone wrong during which particular curse, but somehow it had caused some reaction within Buffy, and Mr. Brown was positive that reversing the Haitian Body Exchange would be near impossible.

* * * * *

Amber was almost to the main sewer tunnel when she heard the voice. “Undo it, or the angels will rip throats out!” The voice was frantic, angry, and insane. Also British.

Amber sprinted back up the sewer tunnel in the direction of the mage and Drusilla.

“I can’t!” stammered the mage, looking at the flames that danced over his entire counter. The spell parts were charred black, and the foul smell of burning mingled with the sickening feeling of angry energy that emanated from the botched spell. “It...It’s out of my control, the spell is stronger than my reversal spell –“

“Undo it!” raged the furious Drusilla. “I want my Spike back 'ow 'e was, I want it now, I want you to undo it!”

“It’s not possible...no one can interfere with it now, magics are too strong....” he choked as angry claws ripped at his throat.

Amber raced inside the room and her eyes fell on the mage and the splatters of his blood all over the room and Drusilla’s face. “You idiot,” she hissed. “Now he never can undo it.”

“UNDO IT!” screamed the older vampire.

Amber’s face morphed as she launched herself at Drusilla, knocking her to the floor and tearing at her with fists and nails and fangs. “You bitch!” She smashed her fists into Drusilla’s face, hoping she could crack the bones and feel the blood and brains seeping out all over her palms. “Bitch, I hate you!”

The pair of vampires bit and clawed at each other, rolling into table after table of magical artifacts. Glass jugs shattered and stones clattered on the floor. Drusilla tossed Amber into a large brass gong, which exploded its angry note in both vampires’ ears. Drusilla snarled as Amber pounced on her once more, screaming, “I hate your guts! I hate you, you mother-fucking...murdering...bitch!”

Suddenly Drusilla managed to roll Amber into the growing fire. Screaming in pain, Amber jumped up and dashed out of the room into the sewer. She rolled in the several inches of sticky much to douse her burning clothing, and then continued to scamper down the tunnels, tripping over obstacles and tearing the skin on her knees. Finally her toe caught at the top of a downhill section and she tumbled and slid until she smashed into a metal grate. Amber curled her throbbing body into a fetal position, huddled in the wet sewer tunnel and pressed up against the wall. “I hate you,” she sobbed as her skin tingled with red welts. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...”

Woah, crazy Amber. Don't worry, all will make sense someday...but in case it doesn't, review! (and no, this is in no way a sleazy attempt to acquisition reviews, just so that's clear ^_^)