A/N- set sometime around Something Blue. Thanks to Emma for the challenge!
Sophos, dreaming
His wrists ached, and his back as well. Surfacing from unconsciousness slowly, Giles yawned, and tried to stretch only to find himself unable to move. The pain of his wrists grew more intense as he struggled and was joined by a tightness at his chest. Blinking in the harsh light, he looked down at his body and immediately became alert. Chains. All over me. And I'm… if I'm in my bathtub, where is Spike?
The door swung open and his Slayer appeared, her face set into a stern mask which did not lighten at the sight of him. "Breakfast," she said shortly, holding up a blue mug.
"Excuse me? Buffy, what…"
"Shut up." Plunking down on the tiles beside the tub, she picked up an empty mug- Spike's mug, he realized- and pulled the used straw out. She placed it in the blue mug, then stuck it below his chin. "Drink. Don't talk. I've got class in an hour."
Blood. She expects me to drink blood? "What on earth is happening? Why am I here? And where is Spike?"
Rolling her eyes, she knocked the rim of the mug into his chin, hard enough to make him flinch. "I told you I don't have time for this. You want to eat, you'll stop yammering. I don't have to feed you, you know. Giles wouldn't care."
"Giles… but Buffy, I am…" He looked down again at his body and felt a cold wave of panic surge through him. "Oh, good lord," he muttered, taking in the new shortness of his legs, the slimmer hips, the familiar black denim jeans. "I'm not me."
"Don't I wish. Of all the guys to have chained in a tub, you couldn't be, say, Antonio Banderas." Jiggling the mug, she said, "I'm not gonna hold this here all day."
"Buffy, please, listen to me. I'm not Spike. I'm Giles." Widening his eyes, he said, "Look! Can't you tell the difference?"
"The difference between you and, um, you? No. You're not looking exactly Giles-like and funny, not really big with the caring." Putting down the cup, she gave him an annoyed look and shook her head. "You don't want to eat, well, suit yourself, but you'd better stop whatever you're playing at before…" At the sound of footsteps in the hallway, she rocked back on her heels. "Or, not. This might be good for a laugh."
Someone opened the door and stood above them. Startled, it took Giles several moments before he recognized himself. "No, no, Buffy, that's not me. I mean, it is me, but it's not…" Groaning with frustration, he strained against the chains. "I'm trapped in here, in this, this corpse, and-" He sighed as he watched her trade amused smiles at the man who wore his body. And you're not even listening to me, are you?"
"Spike, this has got to be one of the top ten stupidest tricks you've pulled. I mean, hello, I have eyes."
Great. Just great. Switching his attention to the man, he said, "Who the hell are you, and what did you do to cause this?"
"Me?" The man's eyebrows rose and he laughed. "Spike, don't be daft." He cocked his head to one side, narrowing his gaze as he smirked down at the tub. "You're damned desperate, you think we'll fall for something like this."
That smirk, that stance, it's familiar… oh god, of course. "Spike," Giles growled, "Undo whatever it is you've done, and undo it this minute."
"First off, not Spike. That'd be you, mate." Winking, he held out his arms. "Check out the body? Not too vamp like, never mind being a bit worse for wear, unlike my- I mean, your manly self."
"Buffy, can't you hear him? Come on, now, would I speak in that manner? It's Spike, he-he's fixed some sort of a-a transference spell, and he's managed to fool you. But surely, if you'll only listen to him, you'll realize…"
"Realize what? You're Spike. Check the bleachiness, not to mention the stench? Giles is Giles. 'Nuff said." Buffy grabbed the mug and dumped the blood out into the sink.
Appalled to feel a craving sort of hunger at the sight, Giles met Spike's eyes, only to find the vampire laughing so hard, he held the doorframe with both hands to keep from doubling over. "The stench," he gasped between chuckles. "Smells a bit like someone needs a bath."
"Buffy, my god, are you insane? Look at him!" Thrashing against the restraints as Buffy started to leave the room, he yelled, "Wait, don't go! He could do anything in my body, anything!"
Buffy didn't respond, only waved good-bye to the man she thought was her Watcher. She must be under some sort of spell. Or insane. A quieter, disturbing voice deep within him whispered, Or maybe she simply does not care.
Moving out of the way so Buffy could pass, Spike winked at Giles and said in a mock-whisper, "Anything. Or anyone."
No. This cannot be happening. Horror gripped him hard and he shut his eyes, dizzy with the surreal feeling that perhaps he was the one who didn't understand, perhaps it was he who was insane. Gagging, he felt his head roll back, and when the darkness came to seize him, he did not struggle.
*****
Someone was yelling his name. A deep, frustrated voice, a man's voice. Giles shot upright, clutching the bedclothes to him. Sweat drenched his body and he swayed, disoriented. I was in the bathroom… no, in the bathtub. I was… god, I was Spike.
He threw off the blankets, drinking in the sight of his familiar flannel pajama bottoms. "Just a dream, that's all."
"Giles! Let me out of this sodding tub!"
I have got to get rid of him. Having him here is obviously damaging to more than just my patience. Turning to his nightstand, he picked up the telephone and began dialing Buffy's number, but hesitated, remembering the cold look in her eyes, the disinterest.
"Just a dream," he repeated, but could not shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. He hung up the phone and dialed Xander instead.