Disclaimer: see chapter 1

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2: VENDETTA

"There's another McDonald's, Spike!"

"Slayer," he demanded, "Would you shut up already? I'm tryin' to drive here." Buffy decided that maybe there was something to his claims about a "vampire constitution." Already he seemed sober, although more irritable than usual.

Of course, his touchiness could be related to her presence in the car. "Driving would be easier if you were sober. And besides, I'm hungry." She pouted, the reflection in her glossy bottom lip catching Spike's eye. She's the Slayer, mate, he reminded himself. She'd dust you for even thinking it.

He stared pointedly at her neck. "You think I'm not hungry?" he asked suggestively, cocking his head.

"Ew, gross, Spike."

He drove in silence. He didn't know what to say - she'd already told him to take or to Los Angeles, so no room for conversation there. And every time he brought up the case of the missing Drusilla they began hurling accusations.

"Fine." He relented, and turned onto the exit ramp, above which was a neon sign for McDonald's. He thought he saw Buffy drooling - but maybe that was just her lip gloss.
They were sitting outside, on the curb near his car. The crescent moon looked a bit spindly and pathetic, and the city smog veiled most of the stars. Just wait til we get to LA, Spike thought. Even Dru had trouble finding the stars there.

Dru. He missed her already. Drusilla was the love of his unlife, his definition of passion. For the thousandth time that night, he asked himself what he was doing helping the Slayer. Little old Becca and her blasted Sunnyhell farm were the two things Spike hated most in the world. The only excuse he could find for his actions was that he had a third thing he hated: the image of the spunky, sassy, sexy Slayer, limp in Angelus's arms, her neck a bloody mess. The same thing he hated about the Slayer drew him to her – she was so full of energy and hate for vampires – and it seemed sacrilegious for her to be done in by the creatures she loathed.

Buffy tossed her wrappers away, and ran into Spike. She tried to step back, but his hands pressed into her lower back, holding her to him. "My turn." He traced a finger down her throbbing vein. With a grin he imagined her writhing and screaming beneath him as he yet again tasted the blood of a Slayer. Every thing he'd done to aid her that night only made him more resentful of her, because he knew she was somehow ensnaring him. He didn't want her dead, or hurt too badly...But neither was Spike a stupid souled Poof, and the fact that he was displaying Slayer altruism disgusted him.

Buffy tried to feel repulsed, but it wasn't working out for her. His gold eyes watched her steadily. His lips were inches from hers, and slowly they came up to press savagely against her mouth. Her heart was beating wildly, and he could hear it.

His unnecessary breaths blew air on her cheek, her ear, her jawbone...and she just wanted him closer. She slid her body up against his, her loins throbbing for contact. The fact that he wanted to stand this close to her, press his body into hers was intoxicating, and Buffy was incapable of finding a reason to stop him. She didn't want to stop him.

Never counted on it being this easy... Spike thought. He'd been on his guard; in front of him was one hell of a Slayer, and he hadn't expected her to let him take her blood without a fight. She quivered with anticipation. She felt sure Spike could feel her puckered nipples poking into his chest, even through all their layers. And she knew he could smell the wetness dripping from her core.

Spike licked a spot on her neck, and she melted in his arms, letting out one quiet wimper. That's sexy - no, bad Buffy! A small growl vibrated his chest as he slowly he sank his fangs into the Slayer's jugular, taking several small pulls of her blood.

Buffy gasped as unexpected euphoria tore through her inexperienced body. Feels so...Aah. Didn't expect it not to hurt... Neither Buffy nor Spike thought about the two Slayers he'd already killed; they pair of them was completely alone in the present.

As Spike carefully removed his fangs to begin sucking at and cleaning the bite, the entire area around them went dark. Spike's vampire seeing caught lights flashing out in all the surrounding blocks.

Something about this wasn't normal. Supernatural, decided Buffy as the sky and moon flashed red, white lightening ripping a whole in the hue. Definitely supernatural.

"Bloody hell," came from Buffy's lips. "Slayer, what the hell am I doing in your body?"

Author's note: from this point onwards (until it's no longer applicable) "Buffy" refers to Buffy's mind in Spike's body, and "Spike" refers to Spike in Buffy's body. For those who asked, Buffy sounds like Spike while she's in his body. Imagine it like S4 Who Are You, only with Spike instead of Faith.

The vampire and the Slayer stared at each other, adjusting to being in each other's bodies. "Who the hell would to this to us? Who could do this to us?" Buffy frantically ran her fingers through her newly acquired platinum hair.

"Got any enemies who'd love torture you, Slayer? Cos this sure is Hell."

"Ha, ha," Buffy replied sarcastically. Although personally, she wasn't that horrified. When Spike got too boring to listen to, she knew she could amuse herself with her new body - which, she had to admit, was an extremely attractive body. She hadn't had very much exposure to naked male bodies, especially naked Spike bodies, and she was up to a little exploration, provided that the former owner was nowhere nearby.

The two continued bickering until Buffy, unsure about when the sun was going to come up, decided she didn't want to dust if it caught her by surprise. She dragged Spike back to the car and he resumed driving.

"Slayer," Spike scolded, "You haven't got a driver's license, have you?" He'd finished searching her purse, jacket, and jeans pockets.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy kept staring out the window. "Have you?"

"Well, no, but - Bloody hell, woman! Could you not argue with me for just one bloody second? It's your fault if I get pulled over because you never got yourself a stupid little card."

Quietly, Buffy fine-tuned her skills at acting superior. He was just so irritating - why did she let him drive her anyway? Come to think if it, why was his car even there to drive her, instead of miles away...? "Spike?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah?"

"Exactly what part of 'leave Sunnydale and never come back' doesn't make sense to you?"

Spike tried to growl, but Buffy's voice box wasn't made for it, and his growl came out sounding like a car engine very much on its last legs. "The part where nancy-boy kicks your ass when there's no one there to help you!" he retorted. Truthfully, Spike didn't know why he'd come back to Sunnydale like he promised not to. But he was beginning to he hadn't.

"Spike, the only ass that got kicked was his. And I don't remember your being there - you showed up after, for cleanup. Oh - turn left here, I think. This is Buena Vista..."

Spike ignored her directions, turning angrily into the parking lot for the hotel across the street. Who did the Slayer think she was, ordering him around? She may like to think she's above us vampires, he chuckled to himself, But right now, she IS one.

"Slayer." Spike tossed her a Neiman-Marcus purse. "You're paying for your room with your money, and I'm paying -" he pushed Buffy to the wall, reaching into the duster she wore and grabbing a wallet, "with mine."

"Hey!" Buffy shouted at him as he entered the lobby. "You think I'm gonna let you stay alone, with my body! You're delusional!"

Spike smirked as he walked through the doors. "Try to stop me, Slayer."

Buffy raced through the doors and darted between customers with suitcases and the employees with dry-cleaning racks. She arrived at the kiosk and could see Spike still struggling to get through the crowds. It seemed a buff, shirtless man was talking to him insistently. Buffy sighed. How come the hottie talks to me when I'm not in there? she asked herself indignantly. Not that this body isn't any good or anything... She ran her hand over her new abs.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" the receptionist asked, brushing a copper lock of hair behind her ear and blushing prettily. Buffy's new vampire ears could hear the redhead's heart beating rapidly.

Oh God, oh God...She's coming on to me! "I, um, my...wife and I, we need a room." Buffy tapped her black nails on the counter nervously. She is so not gonna buy that..

"Of course," the girl said, and Buffy could almost see the disappointed "fuck" that was trying to escape from the girl's lips. "Would you like queen-sized, king-sized, or a suite?"

"Uh..." said Buffy intelligently. Spike was approaching. "Um, there's my wife now...I'll go ask her." Buffy stalked over to Spike, and glared down at him. She was ready to forcefully inform him that they were sharing a room, but unfortunately the receptionist followed. "Er, hello, darling," she greeted, a forced smile on her lips.

"Slayer, what the bloody -"

The receptionist began to speak. "Sir, have you and your wife decided yet? There are some other customers waiting."

Suddenly understanding the situation, Spike turned to the receptionist. "There's been a mistake. We're not supposed to be sharing a room. In fact, it'd be great if you put us opposite ends of the bloody building." The receptionist stared at Spike incredulously. She assumed the petite girl was joking...but the tone of her voice had been so serious.

"Ha, ha, ha! She's kidding - really, she's such a comedian! We've decided to share a king-sized room." Buffy liked large beds - lots of sprawling room.

"Certainly," replied the receptionist. "Would you like the $85 a night option, or the $110 one?"

Spike waited for Buffy to pay, but she turned to him, saying "Honey? You have the money, remember?" Grumbling, but not finding a way out the situation, Spike handed the receptionist a wad of green bills. The receptionist handed Buffy two keys, and told them to have a nice day, trying to get rid of them.

"You'll pay for that, Slayer," Spike grumbled.

"Really? You're not gonna hurt me. I'm in your body."

Spike ran a finger down the vain in his wrist. "But I can hurt yours."

Buffy glared at him. "You're a moron - that would kill me. And since you're in my body, you'd get to die with it. Not to mention that anything you do to my body while you're in it, I bet you feel. Just to let you know." She stalked off, pounding in frustration on the elevator buttons. When the elevator took too long descending from the 17 floors, she gave up and made her way to the stairs.

Spike was close behind. "Not so fast, Slayer." He jumped up on the stair in front of her, blocking her from climbing any higher. "Pay me back. Half of the cost for the room, I want you to give it to me."

Lips closed tightly, Buffy shook her head.

He took one step closer, a small and frightening smile curling his lips. Spike pressed his body up against hers, experiencing the odd sensation of feeling his own body from the outside. Against his female thigh he could feel...Oh Christ, was he turning the Slayer on? "Slayer," he told her suggestively, "I had no idea you..." he looked down.

Buffy would have blushed furiously if she'd had blood in her cheeks. Shifting so that her erection no longer touched Spike, she glared defiantly despite her surrender. "Fine. I'll give you the money. Now get off me."

Spike backed up, but his senses screamed in disappointment at the lack of contact. Boring into her bright blue eyes, he brushed his fingertips down her cheek. It didn't matter that they were his eyes, his cheek, because he knew she could feel the touch. She closed her eyes in a mixture of pain, annoyance, and ecstasy.

Then suddenly she pushed past him and ran up the stairs, leaving him sprawled on the steps. Bloody hell.


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