Becoming Me

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

8: DEALING

The full expanse of the room lay before them. Buffy’s eyes were trained on the solitary bed. “That bed looks a little lonely, don’t you think?” she chatted, feeling flustered at the thought of his naked body – even if it was hers, really – up against her under the sheets, his lips close enough to...

“I think it’s managing fine on its own.” He was smirking at her.

Extricating her would-be-pink-if-she-were-alive cheeks from the embarrassing situation, Buffy crossed the room and tossed the duster on the back of a chair and sat down in front of it. The motion seemed to suddenly remind Spike of something, and he came to stand behind her. “You know, pet, that nice piece of leather is mine.”

“Well, your whole body is mine – uh...“ she winced. “Anyway, I’m keeping the jacket.”

Spike reached around her. “Yeah? We’ll see about that...” Buffy relocated the duster to her other side, initiating a scuffle which caused her to find herself caged in by Spike’s arms. She could hear his heart beating rapidly. His immediacy was suffocating (or would have been, had breathing been necessary), and all of her itched with the need to do something...And his face...I really want to kiss him, it occurred to her. Without another thought, she brought her lips to his.

The kiss was soft at first, as Buffy had thousands of inhibitions swimming in her consciousness. Spike, however, returned the kiss with a fervor that helped Buffy relax, and soon there was nothing in the room except Spike. Buffy pulled Spike against her, but found that the arm of the chair got in the way. She attempted to stand, but her feet became tangled in the base of the chair and caused the pair of them to stumble. Spike walked backwards, pulling her with him, and when the back of his legs hit the bed, he spun her around to sit and seated himself on her lap, his legs straddling hers.

Buffy’s hand found the hem of Spike’s shirt, and slid up inside. The whole concept of touching her body, but knowing Spike felt what she was doing, still seemed strange and was enough to distract her now and then, but his erratic breathing was more than enough to spur her onwards.

Spike felt the hook to his bra come undone, and as he shivered with pleasure a question surfaced in his brain: exactly how far did he want this to go? It was a terrible question that he wanted to ignore, because it led to even more confusing thoughts. He was aware that Buffy had just sent the man she loved to hell, and was most likely rebounding. The problem arose with his stand on the situation. An evil vampire would want to take advantage of the situation, without caring that her choice making might not be at its best. Not to mention, Spike realized, I can’t suss out what a properly evil vampire would be takin’ advantage of in the first place. ‘S not like I’d be ravishing a gorgeous young Slayer. Buffy’s wearing my skin. And again Spike found himself asking questions whose answers he was afraid to learn. What did he see in Buffy right now, apart from important in getting his own body back?

Spike had established long before that he was attracted to the Slayer’s body. Lust was a perfectly evil, lechy thing. Being attracted to Buffy for more emotional reasons, however, was something much more troubling.

Spike pulled back, putting his manicured hands on Buffy’s shoulders. She stared at him incredulously, hurt at first, but the emotion quickly melted into anger. “What are you –“

“You’re on rebound, pet,” he told her calmly, stroking the inside of her shoulders with his thumbs.

She shook off his touch. “What do you care? Aren’t you supposed to be evil? You’re not supposed to say ‘Ehhh, you’re rebounding,’ you’re supposed to be sneaking a way to get off! What is your deal?”

“Can we not do this now, luv? Jus’...” Buffy seemed over her burst of fire and ready to begin a sobbing stage. Spike pulled her against his chest, and scooted them to the head of the bed, pulling the covers over them, holding Buffy beside him comfortingly. He decided he’d just leave his feelings for Buffy and whatever amount of evilness they entailed as unanswered questions until the morning.

* * * * * *

“Vampire gangs?”

The scaly gentleman nodded. “You got it. They’re actually becoming quite a problemo. Vamps, you see, are violent demons, and many of ‘em just kill for fun. Obviously they feed on humans, but sometimes they’ll look for other demons to give ‘em more of a chase. And they of course kill vamps from other gangs – rivalry is a big issue.”

Amelia nodded calmly. “Which gang, would you say, is perhaps the most dangerous?”

“Oh, it’s hard to say. Death’s Advocates can be hard to predict, but most of their plans are crap. They’re rash and more or less morons. But I guess I’d have to pick the Revolvers.”

“The Revolvers?”

“Sure. It’s funny, they’re pretty new and they’ve got a leader who’s not only new in town, but also new to the ranks of the undead. But ma’am, they are lethal. Ruthless killing, and they make millions out of it. Not that they don’t like mindless violence, mind you, but they also do the Mafia thing.”

Amelia pulled out a notepad. “Do you know what the leader of the Revolvers is called?”

The demon laughed. “Any demon in Los Angeles knows her name. She goes by Amber.”

* * * * * *

Buffy woke up in Spike’s arms. It was a strangely nice, new feeling for her, and it seemed like his warm body shielded her from having to be aware of the rest of the world just yet. She snuggled back into him, and caused him to laugh. Just then she realized he was awake. Probably he had been awake for quite a while, and he had been sniggering at various weird positions she’d made while asleep, knowing him.

“What time is it?”

“Four forty-seven,” was the reply. Buffy’s eyes practically bugged out. Had she slept the entire day away?

Duh, she chastised herself, Do I sleep during the day? YES. “Did you just sit there the whole time?” she asked incredulously.

“More or less. ‘Cept I got up to pick up the room service twice, an’ I rolled over to grab the remote for the telly.” Buffy realized that the television was indeed on – some soap that she thought she’d seen her mom watch was on with the volume down low. So Spike was a soap opera fan. Some guys just never ceased to surprise you.

She sat up partially, leaning back against the pillows. “Do we have any blood in the room?”

Spike nodded. “It’s cold. I would’ve warmed it up, but I wasn’t too sure the puny room service bloke could carry up a microwave.” Buffy smiled and let Spike bring her a plastic hotel-cup of blood.

After she’d finished her meal, Spike stood up and pulled on the duster. “Since you’re awake now an’ all, I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna go out an’ look for a shop where I can buy myself a few changes of clothes. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate your fashion expertise, pet, but two seconds out of doors an’ you’d be hardly distinguishable from a pile of fine sand.”

“I’m still hung up on the part where you want a change of clothes. I thought you’d be used to wearing the same thing every day by now.”

The vampire shot her one last smirk and went out the door.

Spike was in a bizarrely good mood. He continually had to check himself, having the inclination to do some poncy thing like hum, or walk down the halls grinning. He could still almost feel Buffy cuddling up against him. His good mood was so extreme that it seemed to cripple his Slayer senses; he didn’t notice the vampire until she was only a few feet away.

“Spike...” he heard her say.

Spike gripped a stake in his hand. “There you are. Been lookin’ for you, luv.”

“Does Spike grow tired of the little Slayer?” she murmured into his ear, snaking her hands around his waist and downwards into his waistband. She smelled like sugary sweets.

“Ah-absolutely,” he gasped as her hand pinched and stroked.

“Then you can be rid of 'er. You can be my Spike once more, and we’ll kill 'er together.” Her voice raced with excitement.

Spike chose his words carefully. “Yes, we could do that, Dru, but couldn’t we just send her back to Sunnyhell? I mean, she’s hardly an obstacle now that you’re well –”

Dru contemplated Spike for several seconds, and then shrieked and threw him into a wall. “Get off me!” He fell and rolled a bit, landing in the late afternoon sun. Drusilla glared at him from the shade of the alley. “The awful Slayer’s all in the way, isn’t she, Spike? Don’t fret, puppy, I can kill 'er on my own!”

Spike watched her disappear into the shadows. He remained a few more seconds on the ground, trying to catch his breath and to take in what had just happened. Then he stood up, and massaging his shoulder, he made his way back to the hotel, still quite confused.

* * * * * *

She prowled through the aisles, with a silent and lethal grace. It might have taken a while to adapt to reanimated life, but she had grown into a skillful killer, hunting instincts honed. Even as she zeroed in on a target, all her senses were alert to the outside world. As she tracked down the last remaining size 2 camisole, Amber’s vampire senses picked up something interesting. She was unsure what she’d first noticed – whether it had been his words, or simply the manner of his speech. Because she definitely was not hearing Spike’s voice.

“...Couldn’t we just send her back to Sunnyhell? I mean, she’s hardly an obstacle now that you’re well –”

Amber’s brain clicked to all the possible scenarios. Dru had gotten out. Dru had been let out – no, Spike had hired someone to let Dru out, and his minion was imitating him as some form of identification. Or someone was impersonating Spike, for some other reason...

Amber heard the responding cry of distress. “The awful Slayer is all in the way, isn’t she, Spike? Don’t fret, puppy, I can kill her on my own!”

Or... Drusilla seemed fairly certain that she spoke to the genuine Spike. So Spike was in somebody else’s body. Amber darted under the hanging clothing items and peeked out the window. A petite blonde human stared into the shadowy alleyway, and then walked off down the sidewalk, massaging a shoulder. The way she moved, Amber was even more sure that the blonde girl was Spike. Who had Spike turned into? Was the original owner of this body wandering around, maybe in Spike’s body?

And of course, there was the issue of the Slayer. According to the insane garble that Drusilla had produced, the Slayer was very much alive and well, and possibly somewhere nearby. What did Drusilla know about the Slayer, and what did she know about Spike’s predicament?

And, for that matter, how had Drusilla escaped so that she could roam the streets of LA?

* * * * * *

“I’m still stuck on this one. You ran into your psycho girlfriend while it was still daytime?”

“Slayer, you’re missin’ the point. Dru knew it was me. In this body.”

Buffy persisted. “Yeah, I got that. Weird. But why would she be out at such a flammable time of day? Most vamps kinda hang out in one place until the sun sets. I know she’s a loony, but even Drusilla’s got to have a reason for risking the chance of getting fried.”

Spike shook his head, chuckling. The Slayer really was a bright one; there were worse people to have thwarted all your evil plans. “You think she’s in trouble? Runnin’ from somebody?”

“Possibly, although I’m still not sure why you think I’d care. Anyway, we should try to keep an eye out for anyone who seems like a force to be reckoned with. Maybe they’re also involved with the vamp I ran into last night. And we should probably get to work on finding out exactly what was done to us. Dru seems to know, so maybe we can get something out of her.”

Spike nodded unenthusiastically. He wasn’t sure how soon he wanted to get his own body back. Entertaining aspects of operating the Slayer’s body aside, switching back would give the two of them no real reason to be around each other. And even more so than when he’d first mentioned it, the former vamp suspected something real existed between himself and Buffy.

Spike was also aware of other consequences of switching back. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to fit both Buffy and Drusilla into his afterlife, and that he would have to make a choice between them. Spike knew that the choice was obvious, and the fact that he even regarded it as a choice troubled him.

Hungry lips tore at his, drowning him with intensity. Each motion of hers, each stroke of a hand on bare skin, had some indefinable significance... Need explored his mouth with its tongue, and the strength of the passion, rooted in ignoring the past, reeled him in and making each millisecond unforgettable to him, even if him only...

There was just something about Buffy that he couldn’t push out of his mind, and the thought of never seeing her again caused him a weighted, sinking feeling he instinctively wished to avoid. Just like he wanted to avoid the cause of that feeling, or the many enticing memories of his century with Drusilla.

At some point his afterlife had become extremely complicated.

“And now that Spikey is done with his inner monologue, he can listen? Cos Buffy’s not done talking.” She wasn’t done talking, but she was at a bit of a loss for what she was going to say.

“So, Spike. Where do we stand? You know, you and me. In the us sense.” Spike confused her to no end; his emotions seemed to run hot and cold in the same sentence.

Pushing the tangle of emotions away, he stared insolently at Buffy. “Just where we stood last time, Slayer. Will you admit there’s something between us?”

It seemed Buffy was ready to admit something, because she approached Spike coyly. “Would it mean I’d get to keep kissing you?” she asked, her expression a pout of innocence and confusion. Innocent she was not, but the confusion was rooted in thousands of buds of thought, vaguely wondering why Spike cared so much, why she needed so desperately to be allowed to kiss him, why admitting a relationship of some sort didn’t seem as high a hurdle as it probably should.

“Don’t see why not,” Spike replied, feigning apathy. He grabbed Buffy in his arms and devoured his lips, feeling strangely relieved. Buffy grinned into his lips; she didn’t know why she did, but she couldn’t help herself.

* * * * * *

Amber knew her chances of catching Drusilla again were next to nonexistent, considering the head start the other vamp had, so the teen decided to go ahead and buy her shirt. She could order her minions to search for Dru. Or she could find another psychic who could be just as useful, if not more, than Drusilla. The first priority, obviously, was figuring out what had happened to change Spike. Maybe the crazy vamp was neither showing nor telling, but there was nothing saying she was the only person who knew anything.

Amber vamped out at the employee who barred her path and exited via the storage room’s sewer access. Vamp shopping really beat the hell out of human shopping, when one factored in the endless store hours and the not-paying that one did. Amber was working herself up into an enthusiastic speech-delivering mood when she felt a small but very cold and instinctively terrifying breeze blow throughout her insides and she realized she’d walked right into a woman wielding a handheld cross. “What’s your deal? I got things to do,” she informed the obstacle while searching for the path of least resistance – hardly an escape – in her surroundings. Unfortunately, the cross-having lady had cornered her in a pocket of shade, and blocked the only path that didn’t include UV rays.

Amelia smiled, but behind her horn-rimmed glasses her eyes stared coolly. “I’m sure they can wait. I happen to have a few words to exchange with you, and I have a feeling some of them might interest you. Especially the words that concern a certain vampire’s escape.”

Amber frowned. “You freed Drusilla.”

“I assume you wanted something out of her? No worries – you will undoubtedly find her again...I was just curious as to where she would run off.” Amelia smiled a small, contained smile.

The vamp sniggered. She knew full well that all she would get out of Dru would be nonsense and maybe a few fragments of sanity, but Drusilla could be dangerous. Such a loony could do anything to vent her anger, plus, the Slayer seemed to be in LA, and Amber knew a Slayer spelled all kinds of trouble. If Dru spread the news, the Revolver’s rival gangs could easily point the demon killing machine in Amber’s direction. Drusilla was most likely not a useful ally, but she was definitely a formidable foe.

Not to mention, thought the vamp with disappointment, Now I won’t get to torture her.

“And it happened that where she ran was particularly interesting...It seems that two newcomers to this town are personally acquainted with Drusilla.”

“Yeah, Spike and –“ Amelia nodded intelligently, clearly listening to the specifics. Angry at having stupidly aided the annoying woman with a cross and ugly glasses, Amber burst out, “Fuck, woman! Why the hell would I want to help you?”

Amelia smiled. “Needing motivation? To put it simply, losing Drusilla is hardly the worst thing that could happen to you. Does...what was it, now...‘Chosen One’ mean anything to you?” She was enormously glad that the demon she’d made a deal with had pointed her in the right direction several times, not to mention given her valuable information about demon life.

“You’re fucking threatening me!”

Amelia clucked her tongue twice. “Possibly. I’m just ensuring that I have your attention.”

Amber crossed her arms. “Bitch,” she growled.

Amelia began with the air of a presenter who has carefully prepared and rehearsed her speech. “Apparently you’ve attained a reputation as a formidable gang leader. People talk of your intelligence, and your ingenuity when it comes to battle.” Amber snorted. “I myself have little prowess when it comes to combat strategies, and I have less than a tenth of your physical strength. I could use someone like you, an intelligent girl who knows the ins and outs of...shall we say, the demon world. However, I am faced with a situation. I am barred obtaining something I very much want by a psychic disturbance in this area. I lack the power to do anything about it, and I have a feeling you can help me.”

“Probably can,” Amber drawled, “But I’m not thinking it’s especially likely that I will.”

“Oh, I think you will. You will not be without rewards – there will be, of course, a monetary compensation for your trouble, and...A pair of powerful individuals is involved in this psychic disturbance: a relatively famous Slayer-slaying vampire, and the Vampire Slayer herself. Once you have helped me eliminate their interference with my ambitions, I leave both of them entirely to you, to do with as you please. I hear that Slayer’s blood can work marvels for the strength of a vampire, and also fetch an amazing price on the black market.”

Amber pondered the situation. This deal did sound like it would demand some difficult work, but the gain might just be worth it. Vampire, Slayer of Slayers – that had to mean Spike. And to have the Vampire Slayer in her hands...Amber still wasn’t sure what the small blonde girl had to do with anything, but she had a score to settle with the Slayer, and once that was through Amelia’s suggestion sounded like something worth trying.

“Hey, lady. I think you’ve got a deal."

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