Redefining Unlife

AN: I should beg forgiveness from anyone familiar with England. Normally, I do a bit of homework whenever I write of travels through any country other than the US. This time, I haven't had the chance to do so. I am making a number of assumptions that could be written off as AU, but are merely what my scattered memories of other people's stories have mentioned about places and names. I'll try not to offend anyone overmuch. *blush*


~ Part 3 ~

As a nocturnal being with highly flamable reactions to sunlight, Spike had always avoided planes as a mode of transportation. It would only follow that his nerves were wracked by the promise of a full day in the air. He took little comfort that he had a seat in the middle of the aircraft, well away from windows and near the darker restroom area. Fred tried to think of everything to insure her friend's safety, but the blond refused to give up the last of his justifiable paranoia.

"Just get on that plane afore I buy a ticket an drag yer curvy butt across the states. It ain't too late, y'know."

The memory of those words finally spurred him into action, pushing his wounded ego onto the plane and even seeing him through a shuddering lift-off. And if he made a dozen calls between Los Angeles and New York to a certain number, the mousy scientist made no mention of it.

Fatigue (and the cell phone's battery giving out) had sent Leigh into a deep sleep shortly after the plane left land to begin the journey over the Atlantic ocean. Only the popping of her ears alerted the blond to their descent, when she woke to a fresh cup of coffee being offered by the flight attendant.

"We're half an hour from Heathrow, Miss. Would you like some breakfast in the meantime?" It seemed that even seasoned stewardesses grew less perky on overseas flights. "You're one of the first up, so I'd urge you to choose the fresh fruit cups and a muffin."

Leigh nodded, sipping quickly at her heavily creamed coffee. "Didn't realize how hungry I'd gotten. Thank you!"

Even as she spoke, the blond recognized a long ago learned accent - that of her human education and culture. Listening to herself, Leigh thought she sounded like her maternal grandmother. It was... nice, to be connected to the grande dame herself.

A tray laden with fresh berries and citrus slices, blueberry muffin and more coffee, was laid across her lap. She smiled up at the attendant, already piercing a plump strawberry to stave the growling in her stomach.

Thanking London's typical fog for sheltering her 'sensative skin' against the sun's rays, she popped the last grape into her mouth just as a voice announced their readiness for unloading. Leigh swore she would never laugh at anyone else for their weak knees or jetlag when she had to grab the broad shoulders of a man just ahead as her legs gave out.

"Oh, I am sorry, sir! It's been ever so long since I've flown, I'd forgotten-" Mentally cursing herself for blushing, Leigh could only stammer excuses.

"Think nothing of it, Miss. Could I offer you my arm, until you've regained your balance?" came the tenor response from her unintensional savior. "We may be stuck in Customs awhile. It would be lovely to have a delightful lady such as yourself with whom to while the time away."

Which only partially explained how the once Master vampire entered her home country on the arm of the Head Watcher, Rupert Giles. After finding her tongue, Leigh ran through dozens of scenarios that might help her break the news to her acquaintence. All came up flat. The sluggish line through Customs gave her time, however, and she had personal reasons for the burning need to reconnect with the Watcher.

Reminding herself that, as the Slayer of Slayers *he* had balls of steel, Leigh introduced herself and began a conversation that would've drawn heads had her voice not been pitched so low. "Rupert Giles, I do recognize you. I daresay you won't know me, not as I am now." She dropped her volume to a mere whisper, "The Powers That Be are dozy buggers, an they hate me almost as much as you, Rupes."

Giles managed to stiffle his shock only through strength of will. "Miss Wilkes, I'm afraid that I have never had the pleasure of meeting you. My recollection of faces and names is quite good, and yours is remarkable enough to never forget." Despite his denial, he was drawn to the startling blue eyes of his companion.

"That's right, Watcher. Ya know these eyes, same cheekbones too, see? Wonky higher beings brought me back as a bloody chit!" And while Spike's new body was nowhere near as strong as his previous one, he could at least catch most of the tall man's weight before it could crumble to the ground.

"Bloody hell, Spike, is that you?!"

~ * ~

Calming a blustery Watcher (who was liable to turn into Ripper with little provocation) took more than a touch of talent. "Shh, yeh Rupes. Keep it down, will ya? Came as more of a shock ta me."

Blinking slowly behind his glasses, Giles took his time finding his legs. He would never have guessed that the stunning picture of feminine British gentry was anything other than just that. Unfortunately, he also knew that first impressions were often most deceptive. He proceeded up the line in Customs one space, giving himself time to process.

What was more of a shock, perhaps, was that this female version of Spike actually permitted him the time necessary to accept the new information. The Master vampire he'd grown accustomed to would have been too impatient to allow room for thought.

Two more steps toward their inspection point found the Watcher ready to discuss this latest 'apocolyptic' turn. "If I am to accept that you are who you claim, then there are numerous questions I must ask."

Sighing quietly at his side, Leigh squeezed the arm she still held. "Yeh, figured as much. Just... can it wait til we get somewhere away from crowds, maybe with a nice cuppa? Shoulda known better'n to let my first time in the air be a cross-continental flight."

The slightly husky alto voice using Spike's speech patterns continued to throw Giles. "Very well. I can sympathize, of course. Such a long journey is tiring no matter how many times one makes the trip. Do you have lodging ready?"

"Oh yes, Fred made sure I'd be taken care of, made all sorts of reservations. There should even be a car waiting, I believe." She stopped that line of conversation to double-check herself. Did she really want the Head of the Watchers Council to know where she was staying? Was that safe? Even though she would be contacting a number of people involved in the organization, it still seemed risky. And Giles had proven that he would do whatever he felt necessary to keep his loved ones safe, at any cost. No, better not.

Taking note of the pause, Giles could appreciate his... companion's need for discretion. He had felt only a tiny bit of remorse from his previous actions against the vampire, none of which he would change if he had the chance to do so. Yet the hand on his arm was warm, and a slight flush rested on those pale cheeks. There must truly be an interesting story.

"As you wish. I would like to meet up with you soon, naturally. Perhaps tomorrow, after you've had some rest?"

Leigh nodded, thoughtfully. She hoped that their arrival during daylight hours would be proof enough to such a well-trained demon hunter that she was no longer a threat - or at least, not as much of one. "That would be best, thank you. I haven't felt this tired in... a very long time. Too many shocks in a small period."

While Giles made murmurs of agreement, the line moved along again, leaving them only minutes to continue their conversation in relative privacy. He had one last question that he felt could not wait til the following day. "What are your intentions toward Buffy?"

Spike would have anticipated that one, but he had taken great efforts to begin thinking as Leigh. And Leigh had no designs on persuing the Slayer for any number of reasons. She found herself laughing quietly. "Honestly Rupert, can you imagine me asking your 'daughter' for a date? That is the very farthest thing on my agenda, and I can truthfully say the idea never occurred to me since my return. I came *home*, to set a few things to rest in my mind, and to relay the goodbyes I hadn't the fortitude to do at the end. Renewing friendships would be more than appreciated, a fresh start if you will. However, I expect nothing. I... lost that right, if it was ever mine."

Head hanging, the Watcher missed evidence of the blond's tears. Until two light drops landed on the flagstones, one after the other. The hand that had warmed his arm these past few minutes was taken away to brush beneath thick eyelashes.

"Things change, as do people. I will... maintain an open mind. That is the best I can offer at this point."

Leigh tilted her head in acknowledgement, silently cursing her new hormones. "Our turn is up. Thank you for keeping me company, Rupert. I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Shall we meet at-"

"The Tea Room at the British Museum. I think you can recall which painting I was so fascinated with?"

Both in agreement, they separated to deal with Customs and minutes later out into the London fog.

~ * ~

Settling back into hot, soapy water, Leigh moaned deeply in pleasure as her exhausted muscles finally relaxed. The trip had been tiresome, but the unexpected confrontation with Rupert Giles had taken every iota of her diminishing energy reserves. All she wanted now was to indulge herself in this glorious vat of bubbles, toss on a pair of flannel pyjamas, and order the highest calorie meal that room service had to offer.

The only natural perk she and Fred had discovered about this new body was in the way it burned calories. The southern girl was justifiably jealous - Leigh seemed never to gain an ounce, regardless of what she ate or how often. They hypothesized that, since she no longer craved blood, her metabolism was making up for it in food consumption. Whatever the case, she refused to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dinner was inhaled with all due speed, and she fell into bed with a heartfelt sigh.

Exhaustion was supposed to produce dreamless sleep, but not in her case. One scene after another played through her subconscious, bringing up memories of past hurts and rejections and betrayals. Both by her and toward her from the Scoobies. She knew she would never forget some events, but the harsh reminders of those months before Sunnydale (and she) exploded... she wouldn't voluntarily think on them, and resented having to relive such trauma in her dreams.

A nearby scream pulled her from nightmares shortly before dawn broke. Far from well-rested even after ten hours sleep, she once more called room service for morning coffee and a light breakfast. Perhaps she could grab a quick nap before meeting the Watcher for tea. It was a pleasant fantasy, at least.

~ * ~

The most annoying noise to break a decent nap must be the tinny ringing of a telephone, as any weary traveller could attest. In Leigh's case, she was torn between biting the concierge's head off and blessing him. She had no wish to be late for her appointment, and had allowed herself plenty of time to get ready.

A concept that sent her into giggles, really. As Spike, it took less than ten minutes to fully dress. This female thing... was complicated. And yet people expected such effort to be made by their womenfolk. It boggled the mind. However puzzling the custom, she once again adapted. Allowing ample time to choose a flattering outfit that would give whatever impression she desired was crucial - so sayeth Fred. As was the careful application of make-up, a ritual that could turn a whore into a Lady (or vice versa).

She recalled a bit about Rupert Giles' family history, and decided to go for her most subdued 'classy dame' look. It was slightly pretentious, but better than the t-shirt and jeans she intended on wearing for her other visits. She spared a minute to thank Fred *again* for urging her to get a french manicure before the trip. Otherwise she'd never have time to match colors... and when in hell did she turn into such a GIRL?!

Shaking her mane of curls served a dual purpose. It loosened them back into place after her nap, while allowing her to release some frustration at her prissy behavior. She walked, barefoot and be-flanneled, toward the closet - another thing to thank Fred for: choosing a full service hotel, that had pressed and hung her clothes while she was in the bath the night before. Leigh promised never to take such luxuries for granted again.

The aquamarine skirt and top that had looked so upper class on Rodeo Drive was every bit as daunting now. Of quality linen, it hung from her curves and detailed each one. Especially when teamed with a creamy silk shell top, pearl stockings and smart sandals. And gods save her, she was turning into a fashion junkie! Light make-up done while she talked herself through possible avenues of questioning by the Watcher, she had only to grab purse and cardkey with plenty of time to spare before tea.

~ * ~

Leigh exitted her cab out front of the Museum half an hour before her 'date' with Giles. And she knew it would take that long to regain a semblence of good humor. That presumptuous driver had taken her for a 'working girl' and spent most of the ride trying to get a list of rates and services offered. What had she done wrong with her carefully selected outfit? A quick look around the plaza showed... quite a crowd, scattered in small groups or sitting by themselves. The only females she saw without headwear of some type were either children or tourists. How could she have forgotten such class-oriented details?

There was only one thing to do. Locate a vendor and purchase the closest thing to match her current clothes. This close to the tourist lines, such shops and boutiques were plentiful, and she quickly found something to suit her needs. The brim fell over one eye, drawing attention to the vivid color of the visible eye. Of pale straw, closely woven into an attractive design, she tied a scarf in place and walked briskly back to the Museum.

Just arriving, Giles paused briefly before offering his arm. Whether because he now knew her identity, or was taken in by her choice of attire, she couldn't tell. Leigh simply felt relief that he hadn't changed his mind. She knew she'd get no chance of approaching the others without this man's good wishes.

"Good afternoon, Rupert." Smile charmingly, she told herself. Win him over, but don't make him suspicious. The sun broke through its cloud cover, sending dim rays across the pair. "Could we find a table soon? I'm afraid I haven't eaten since quite early this morning." The backs of her legs were beginning to ache from the sun-heat, a remembered burn more than actual.

The Watcher held his position a moment longer, watching the sunlight glint off blond curls but not finding a hint of smoke. He offered an apologetic half-smile, then led her inside the darker foyer. "My apologies... Leigh? Right. This is... awkward. I must apologize for my assumptions-"

"No Giles, we have both said and done numerous things to provoke one another." Use that bright smile again, girl. It worked well last time! "Let us use this time to catch up, as if we were truly old friends. A ruse, of course, but maybe in time...?"

Giving a neutral 'hmm', he led Leigh into the Tea Room and toward a far table. By force of habit, he also held her chair - a fact that caused both to blush lightly. "Relax Rupes, this is only as difficult as we make it, right?"

Giles withheld his reply until their orders had been taken. "It seems quite simple to... forget who you were, til you say something in that atrocious accent." This attempt at a smile seemed more authentic. "Now, I believe you have a story to tell?"

"Right, business first." With a disappointed sigh, Leigh resigned herself to being kept at arm's length by this man. Not that she wanted to jump into bed with him, but his cold demeanor... hurt. "Shortly after the amulet did its job, I found myself floating around the offices of Wolfram & Hart. You're familiar with the name, yes? Good. Up until a few weeks ago, I was less than a ghost. The why and how of my return hasn't been answered to my satisfaction, although Wesley Windham-Pryce - you remember him - seems convinced that I managed to get the quixotic attention of the Powers That Be. What you see now? That's me, complete with soul and all memories." She locked eyes with the Watcher before finishing, "I'm no danger to anyone these days, Rupert. Except maybe to myself. We haven't found a record or description of what sort of hybrid I might be, but it's mainly human. And all woman, unfortunately."

Hearing his companion snort indelicately, Giles raised an eyebrow and waited for her to explain the last comment.

"You're surrounded by them, Watcher. What sort of complaints do you hear most often?" Giles' slight blush caused a return of her best smile. "Exactly. This is no reward, not like Peaches' shansu bit. There's perks, sure, but just as many drawbacks."

"I... believe I understand. There are still numerous questions to answer, of course, but- Oh, our tea has arrived. Lovely."

Relieved to be spared further interrogation for a short time, Leigh began pouring while Giles passed out thin fingers of the assorted sandwich types offered. And if the Watcher, well, *watched* her closely, Leigh had to allow the man his curiosity. She refused to restrain her abundant appetite for his benefit, as she'd skipped two meals in the past twenty-four hours. The third eyebrow raising made her grin impishly.

"This body requires frequent meals, Rupert. It rejects the very idea of my former method of nutrient absorption, so I have to make it up somehow." Having offered the briefest of explanations, she popped a slice of pickle in her mouth, chewing happily on the garlic-laden vegetable. "And you knew nothing of which foods you'd placed on my plate? Really, Watcher, you give me too little credit. I'm a new person. In the most literal sense."

Chuckling ruefully at his own folly, Giles had to agree. "Indeed. And more than your outward appearance has changed, from what little I've seen." He cleared his throat, and barely stopped the reflexive move to polish his glasses. "If I may say, you seem more... at ease with yourself, now, than in all the time I've known you."

Leigh thought over the suggestion for a few minutes, finally deciding that he could be right. "Perhaps. You only knew of my reputation before I was forced to beg your assistance. Toward the end, I was approaching something like a balance with myself. It's a... mixed blessing that there was little time for me to come to terms with my 'gift'. When I came back, the internal battle was gone. I suspect that I now have a better balance than the average person between their conscience and base impulses."

And wait for it... Yes, there it is! The eyebrow raise, number six in less than an hour. Leigh gave herself points for keeping the Watcher off balance. She grinned at him, and stole the last bit of cucumber sandwich from his plate.

Giles rolled his eyes at the juvenile display, but was secretly relieved. So many shocks to a person's psyche often led to... abhorent behavior. And for a half-human with no criminal history to trace, and William the Bloody's vast stock of knowledge in violent pasttimes, such mental imbalance would be more than a little dangerous.

"I assume you wish to make contact with the remaining Scoobies?" He asked, before he could rethink his decision. Leigh nodded and continued chewing his sandwich. "Very well. Should I arrange for them all to be in one place, or would you prefer to speak with them individually?"

Taking a sip of tea to wash away the few crumbs left in her mouth, the blond considered his proposition. "I suppose it would get things over more quickly as a group, but no... I should take time with each of them. It would be inconsiderate to do otherwise, and at least Dawn would lecture me for hours about that."

"Ah yes, the younger Summers. A joy and trial, with more energy than any dozen people are entitled to hold. You may consider yourself fortunate that she is currently out of country." He paused for a drink, deciding how much information to give away. "As is Buffy. I have no idea how soon either shall return, but they did leave contact numbers if you wish to ring them."

Leigh knew what he was doing, not that it hadn't been expected. "At your leisure, of course. Rupert, I've already told you that I have no plans on attempting a relationship with your girl. Above friendship, if it's offered. I would prefer to see Dawn in person, but at this point I'll take what I can get." With every scenario she'd considered, the Watcher's ready consent had never played a part. "The rest are here in London, working with you now?"

"Well... yes and no. Willow is deeply involved in a sister organization, both in teaching novices and in learning how to better control her power. She and Kennedy are no longer seeing one another (he paused to mutter 'thank the gods' under his breath), but if you wish to speak with the potentials, a time can be set naturally. Andrew is working toward becoming a full-time Watcher, and has shown some potential in that area. Thankfully, we have minimal contact. Xander lives nearby, and occassionally drops by to do the odd job, or to counsel one of the homesick girls."

Another pause to refresh his tea, Rupert considered who else might be of interest to his companion. "Robin Wood accompanied Faith and a dozen potentials to the new... site at Cleveland. They send reports once a week, and appear to be doing well. Have I left out anyone you wish to contact?"

Somebody was missing, she was certain. It came in a flash, and she couldn't figure why the Watcher (who normally saw everything) had left out news of- "And Anyanka? She had no intentions of renewing her relationship with Harris, but... what's wrong?" The flash of grief that briefly flooded Giles' face told its own tale. "In the final battle then. I'm so sorry. She was... a good person."

The Watcher quickly replaced Rupert-the-human. "Quite. She... she saved Andrew's life. Please, do not mention her name around him, unless you wish to be the center of a theatrical performance worthy of Shakespeare."

"Of course not. I'd rather avoid the boy at any cost, if it's all the same to you. Sure, he means well, but there's only so much eager puppy a person can tolerate." Leigh added a small smile to soften her words, but she knew her opinion was shared by most of their group. "Right then, Willow and Xander are the only ones nearby, yes? Then... whenever you're ready to set up meetings. One at a time, if you could please."

In short order, they finished their tea and argued quietly over the bill. Leigh realized that, as a British gentleman in his home country, Giles would feel slighted by being denied the right, and eventually gave in. After an exchange of phone numbers, he saw her into a cab and left for Council Headquarters.

~ * ~

Shortly after finishing her nails, Leigh's cell rang that evening. She muttered a few choice words, trying to stab the 'on' button without smudging the deep rose paint. "You've reached the number you dialed. Who were you looking for?"

Masculine laughter, so familiar, tore a choked sob from her throat. "Hey there, I was told to call this number by a friend of mine, Rupert Giles? Maybe you can explain why."

It's Harris. Oh feckin hell, how do I do this?! No, deep breath, calm down. He doesn't know anything yet. "Ah, this must be Xander Harris then. And I have no idea how to do this over the phone. Are you free to meet somewhere perhaps? There's a decent pub attached to my hotel."

"Uh, I don't make it a habit of blind dates, Ma'am. Giles might've given me your number, but-"

"Hold on there, slugger. Public place, feel free to bring your cross and stake. Rupert can vouch for me being no danger to you. I just... This is about closure, y'understand?" She allowed a small measure of her hopes and fears to come across in her voice. "I give my word you will come to no harm. Is that sufficient for a start?"

"Lady, I don't even know your name." The brunet's exasperation took over, with him sighing heavily into the receiver.

He's learned some sense of self-preservation, at least. Took him long enough. "My name would mean little to you, however, you're welcome to it. Ashleigh Joanna Wilkes, but please call me Leigh." Be enough, c'mon Harris!

"Right... Ok Leigh, I'll give you half an hour. And Giles better appreciate me draggin my butt into London on a wild goose chase." The last line was whispered well away from the phone, but Leigh heard it clearly, barely catching herself before giggles broke free.

"It's just past eight now. What time can I expect you?"

"No sooner than ten. Sorry, I'm in dire need of a shower before entering any civilized establishment. G-man tends to forget how much manual labor I do for him."

He sounds so good. Healthy, happy even. Please don't let me muck this up. "Ha, just like a man, eh?" She waited a heartbeat for the splutter of indignant laughter before moving along. "Alright, ten o'clock it is. And as much as I hate sounding like one of your hated blind dates, I'll be wearing a dark pink carnation in my hair so you'll know who to look for. And... oh hell, you're making me think ahead on what clothes to drag out." Another chuckle, this one with no negative influence. "*Hmph* Fine. Jeans and a pink floppy shirt. My hair is blond on blond, and if you ask for more I'll have to accuse you of internet chat room pickups."

The last brought out a full-throated laugh like none Leigh could recall. It warmed a piece of her heart... and lit something farther south.

"Do you know who you're looking for? I can play the Dating Game too."

When did the whelp learn to turn his voice into a weapon? Feck! "No need, I've got your description already. And Xander... I truly look forward to seeing you tonight." Dammitall, when did Droopy Donut Boy become associated with 'home'? Can't screw this up. Can't can't can't!

"Yeah, think maybe I am too. See ya in a bit, Leigh."

Before she could make her goodbyes, Xander rang off. She had two hours to get ready, and for some reason, this mattered so much more than meeting 'Daddy' Giles' approval. Marvelling at her impending insanity, she stepped into the shower for a quick wash.

~ * ~

In a tornado of nervous energy, Leigh changed clothes a dozen times after her shower. Eventually settling on her first choice, since it was what she'd told Xander to look for. Her hair caused even more trouble. She tried fancy braids, a simple twist, leaving it loose (but she kept picking tendrils out of her mouth), and a dozen more elegant styles before finally admitting defeat. One pony tail in a generic clip, coming up.

At half nine, she headed down to the lobby, checking in every mirror she passed until a sliver of the old Big Bad attitude gave a huge mental smack, knocking some sense into Leigh's frazzled nerves. Right, it's just Xander. Harris. Xander Harris, of course. What's the worst he can do... try'n stake me? Laugh in my face? Nothin he hasn't already done. Alright then, showtime. I can do this.

So wrapped up in her personal peptalk, Leigh missed the single step down into the pub. Strong, leather-covered arms caught her, and she smiled shakily at her savior. "Xander Bloody Harris."

Shock does funny things to human bodies, she reflected just before darkness took over.

~ Part 4 ~

She was cradled in strong arms, a firm chest holding her close to the reassuring heat and steady pulse of a human male. Every part of her wanted to stay still and soak up the contact, even as her eyelids fluttered open.

"Well hi there, Sleeping Beauty. Glad you could join the party." A million dollar smile that she'd often seen directed at one of his 'girls', now all for her! "Nothing seems to be wrong with you... I didn't find one of those MedicAlert bracelets to check for specifics. Wanna tell me what happened, doll?"

Leigh's mouth opened, but nothing came out. She reached a shaky hand up to her hair, pulling loose the flower (which definitely looked worse for wear) and dropped it on her chest.

"Okay... this tells me who you are, Lovely Leigh, but not what caused your crash-n-burn." Xander's grin faded a bit with concern. "How bout we get you a drink of water or something. If you feel up to moving?"

Struggling to right herself, she gave in gracefully when Harris tightened his arms.

"Didn't mean that! You stay put, I'll get us settled someplace quiet, k? Just... give me a smile for yes, or snore for no." He waited for her weak grin before mirroring with one of his own. "Gotcha, now hang tight and we'll get comfy soon."

Well Leigh, you made a wonderful first impression on the boy. Alright, not a boy anymore. Definitely a full grown man, setting off those lovely triggers Fred warned me about. And what happens when he gets all pissy over your little secret, eh? Don't let that puppy brown eye and a handful of laughs send you over the edge, girl!

As promised, Xander relocated them to a back booth, snagging a bottle of water along the way. To Leigh's surprise (and delight), he shuffled her across his lap, leaving his arms free to rub feeling back into her shoulders.

"Now, if you're the lady I'm supposed to meet, maybe you can clear up this whole mystery at one time. Take a few sips and some deep breaths, and begin whenever you're ready." His quiet request felt like an order, albeit polite and gently asked.

Leigh took his suggestions to heart, beginning with oxygen intake. After a few minutes, her pulse regulated and she began her explanation. "Think I might have hyperventilated. Y'know, when something puts so much stress on you suddenly, your body kicks into automatic overdrive?"

"Yeah, but what possible problem is so big that meeting me could cause that?" He meant it as a joke, she knew, but he wasn't far from the truth.

"We've met before, but we didn't part on the best terms. I... need to make it right somehow." And yes, dear audience, her voice could sound like an eight year old. A sexy, curvaceous one.

Xander barked out a short snort of laughter. "Doll, if I'd ever met you, I'd definitely remember it. So c'mon, spill!"

Finally, she found the courage to meet his eye, flinching in memory of yet another failure. "Does it still hurt, Xan? I'm so sorry... I should've got there sooner." Her fingertips barely brushed the edge of his patch, but Harris' hand caught hers before it could move the protective barrier.

"Listen lady, whoever you are, you're treading on thin ice with this. No more jokes, got it?" He began pushing her off his lap, but she held on with more strength than her tiny body should have.

"Please, just... be still and let me do this?" Waiting till Xander gave his tentative agreement, Leigh took one last breath. "Right. This was so much easier, explaining to Giles." Returning her eyes to watch his reactions, she saw the closely guarded 'poker face' the boy had learned long ago. "Forget that, there's no easy way to tell it. So, here goes. After flaming the hell outa Sunnydale, I ended up stuck in that damned amulet. Remember it was borrowed from Wolfram & Hart? Well, it just appeared on the poof's desk one day, and when he picked it up, I fell out... not all there. Was a ghost of sorts all these months, til three weeks ago. Cussed out the wrong higher power, got dumped back into a body. But, as you can see, it's the wrong bloody gender. That about cover it all, whelp?"

She tried, really. Keeping her temper around Harris was always difficult. Especially when he felt equally beligerent about whatever subject they were arguing over. By the end of her babbled tirade, Leigh had to forcibly lower her volume and restrain the hostility wanting to spill out.

Xander's continuing silence unnerved her further. "Got nothin ta say, Xan?"

Lips tightening as though he were biting back... some response... the brunet closed his eye and practiced a little self-prescribed medicine. One deep breath after another, till his heart rate slowed and he had control once more. "If you're trying to tell me that a certain blond, souled, semi-evil and almost Big Bad is tucked into this body, I gotta tell ya... I need more proof."

And there goes the eyeroll. How could I have forgotten? "Right. You kept your Babylon-5 collector plates wrapped in Scooby Doo paper, tucked way back on the top shelf in that ratty kitchenette. Your folks' basement apartment, you called it the Basement of Doom and kept me tied to a medieval torture device that you swore was a barcalounger - never had me fooled there, Quasimodo woulda been proud ta have one of those things."

The strangest combination of conflicting emotions flared to life on the brunet's face. He managed to tense and relax simultaneously, which looked bloody painful to Leigh.

"After coming back from Africa with a brand new soul, you ended up taking me in again. This time, I slept in a over-sized closet and stole your soft porn to keep me awake. To stop the voices in my nightmares - and from the First. And... I almost wish I'd listened to ya, when you tried to convince me not to wear that feckin amulet."

There wasn't much more for her to tell to convince him. As the Americans would say, the ball was in his court now. She thought that, just maybe, she understood how he could be relieved and stressed at the same time. But regardless of her empathy of his predicament, Leigh had an urge. An incredible, burning urge to kiss the stunned fish expression off his face, pushing him into full shock. She managed to supress it. Barely.

"Nothing to say, Harris?"

After another achingly long minute, he drew another deep breath. "Wow."

She was incapable of holding in a snort of laughter at that. "Still as eloquent as ever, puppy boy."

"Yeah, but at least you don't look like the poster child for Etheopian Undead United these days." And the spark of humor was back in that deep brown eye. "And hey, the Powers fucked you over worse than me, so I guess it's all good."

A smart-arse comment was called for, Leigh knew. All she could think of was 'thank hell he hasn't tried to push me away again'. Unconsciously, she snuggled closer to his inviting warmth.

"So what now. Not that I'm not glad you came to say hi or anything, but... what else is this about?"

She'd forgotten how soothing a human heartbeat could be. Nothing like it really. Harris' pulse steadied her, luring her into a trance-like state.

"Hey blondie, don't fall asleep on me here!" Xander gently shook his tiny burden, rearranging Leigh so her body was spread more comfortably across his legs. As her eyes opened, he grinned at her. "So you're stuck in a woman's body, and from the warm butt I'm guessing you aren't a real vamp these days. Wanna fill me in on the rest?"

In a sleepy voice, she managed to answer at least part of his implied questions. "Not all human, still got fangs though. Wes thinks maybe the Powers have some use for me, but Fred and me, we believe they're just yankin my chain. You feel good." And since when was her mouth allowed to spew that drivel? Gah!

Grin turned to smirk. "Huh, so do you. Much better than your old black-on-black days." Brushing a few curls away from her face, his voice almost a whisper. "How are you handling the whole T & A package?"

"Mmm, s'nice sometimes. Like the body, hate the hormones." She snickered into his chest.

Joining her with a good chuckle, Xander had to agree, "Yeah, I can see liking this body. And ditto with the hormones. Remember, surrounded by girls growing up, surrounded by super-girls at Slayer Central now." He curled a lock of blond hair around one finger and gave it a tug. "Wanna wake up and get that drink you hinted at? This calls for alcohol in great quantities."

"Nah, you never could handle yer liquor, Harris," Leigh managed to say through a giggle. "How bout we ditch this place and find some all-night pizza parlor? I'm starving. Again."

"Now this sounds familiar." His smile grew larger for a moment before falling into serious thought. "Do we need to find a butcher?"

Shaking her head brought her face into the curve of his shoulder, a place Leigh was quite happy to be. "Nah, don't need blood anymore. Lots of food, all the time. Makes Fred jealous, how much I can eat."

One thing she'd often (very secretly) admired about Xander Harris - he could roll with whatever punches were thrown his way. Nothing so far said had thrown him very far off course, nor had it caused him to lose body contact. Through each of her lives, Leigh had always craved physical shows of affection, however small. That the man who had repeatedly tried to stake him could offer this comfort... meant a *lot*.

"Don't go to sleep on me, blondie. We really should separate till we find your pizza place." Contrary to his suggestion, Xander made no move to get up.

"Or... we could call room service and order up a bunch of grease and chocolate." Hey, that sounded like a logical idea. She wondered which two brain cells weren't locked down by those delightful arms.

"Mmm, yeah." One arm moved beneath her legs, easily lifting Leigh's limp body as he stood. "Which room are you in?"

She struggled to remember, finally deciding on handing over her cardkey to let him figure it out. Only it was in her back pocket, and that would require more movement or effort or something. "Pocket, back. Get it?"

"Oh man, you're really losing it. Gonna hafta tell me what you're on, and maybe share." Xander snickered at the pout that formed on her lips. "Or maybe you're still jetlagged, right? You must've come in about the same time Giles did, and he was snoring when I left at eight."

That sounded like a good reason. And it might have been a part of her desire to stay *exactly* where she was. Leigh couldn't find the energy to do more than grunt agreeably.

"You're calling yourself Leigh now, right? Fits you better than Spike at least. There's probably a story in there somewhere too, but it can wait til later." Xander shifted her weight onto one arm, to more easily search for the elusive key. "Back pocket, you sure? Howinhell did you stuff anything in these! They look painted on. Not that I mind the view."

And maybe he's not unaffected either. Another point to the blond bombshell, ladies and gentlemen. Take a bow, take a number... what was I saying?

Chuckling, he returned his arm to holding Leigh more comfortably, the cardkey safe in his hand. "And you still talk in your sleep. Maybe I should stick around, learn some girly secrets from ya. Like what's the point of that green face mask that makes women look like Frankenstein's monster?"

They were moving again, the sensation of an express elevator taking them to the appropriate floor. Leigh hoped he would remember to call for food, because she couldn't be arsed right then.

"Yeah, I won't forget. Little of everything, or is this a test for me to remember all your favorites?"

She tried, really, to formulate an answer. It just wasn't worth it. As long as he never put her down.

"Uh, you do know that one of us will have to use the bathroom before long, right? And no offense, but there are some things I just don't like sharing."

Huh, she really needed to put an emergency lock-down switch on her mouth. In case of babble, hit this button. Where would be the best place for the button? Maybe if she stuck it on her tits...

Xander stiffled a laugh, choking himself. "Button on your tit? Is this one of those kinky vamp things, or can anyone play?"

Mmm, playing with Xander. Lovely images flying through her head, all with brown eye and hair and warmstrongsafe holding her tight. She could always lend a helping hand, so he'd never have to put her down to pee. Might make things hard, but that too would pass with a little push-n-shove.

"Alllllllrighty then. You might have the bod of a centerfold, but inside that bleached brain is still 100% Spike. And can I just say how proud you should be of the non-freaking going on?"

Wouldn't help anyways. There are limpets in my family tree - watch me prove it by latching on.

"Lips! Spike lips? Leigh lips. Ooh, and tongue too. Damn girl, if you can do this in your sleep, I've gotta see what happens when you're awake."

Yeah, wake up beside me, inside me? Mmm, sounds fuckin wonderful, pet. Why didn't we try this before?

"Uh, cus you were a guy maybe. And there was always someone else... or was that a rhetorical question. Nevermind, just sleep through this part. I can embarass myself without any assistance from the gallery, thanks."

Always could, luv. Was one of the simple pleasures in unlife - watching your face turn red with all that delicious blood, smelling your want and shame and arousal. Miss smelling ya.

"That's sweet... and disturbing. And we're here. Wake up, blondie bear. Home sweet home!"

Didn't I think that earlier? Think I thought it... dunno when it happened, Harris being home.

"Er, WHAT?!"

~ * ~

More soon as I can - tell me what you think?


** And, for those of you interested in the model I used for 'Leigh', I stole the general body from Miss April 2004 on my son's bikini.com calendar. He didn't object, as long as I promised to treat her well. **

Last quick note - a question was made by my beta-readers (son and daughter, for now), about the hat custom. All I can say in my defense of this assumption is that 'proper' women in certain areas of Deep South USA hold the belief - as well as the use of cloth gloves - and a good friend of mine (single het male, so consider the source) currently living in England said that the custom was similar there. I just thought it was sorta interesting, and something that Spike might encounter.