Change your shape, change your destiny (4/6) by dutchbuffy2305
Rating: R
Spoilers: S4
Author's note: This takes place just before the Season 5 opener.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss
Author's website:
Feedback: Yes, please, to dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk
The faint murmurs and giggles coming from the stock room made Spike crazy. Also, he'd never imagined the Scoobies did so much sitting around reading and yawning. He wanted very much to pace to expend some nervous energy, but the Slayer had usurped the pacing, stomping up and down the shop like a maniac on crack. She was agonizing over the fate of her Mum and her stodgy squeeze, and it made him just about ready to kill.
"Will you bloody stop doing that, Slayer?" he complained. "You're driving me insane and you'll wear out that body if you go on like that."
The Slayer stopped guiltily. "I wish they'd hurry," she said, settling herself nearby, apparently ready for a comfortable chat.
Why couldn't she just talk to her buddies? The Scoobies, all of them, just kept forgetting he was a dangerous vampire. They acted as if he was a pal of theirs, just because they couldn't see his normal self. Odd, very odd. He sighed deeply, and eyed the resultant heaving of his considerable breasts with interest. Why was he hanging around the blasted Slayer anyway? He could be off and make good use of this wonderful body. He'd already tried out a little something on the toilet, earlier, and instead of satisfying him, it had given him an appetite for more. Women were wonderful in that respect.
Decision made, he took off for the door.
"Hey!" the Slayer said sharply. "Where do you think you're going?'
"Out," he answered succinctly, and continued past Giles and Xander on his gorgeous long legs to the door. The heels were a challenge, but he fancied he was doing pretty well. He felt the guys' eyes on his legs, and tried to give his hips an extra swing.
On the sidewalk outside, he took a deep breath and looked around, happy to be out of the stuffy shop and to be breathing in the fresh night air. It was odd, but breathing came absolutely naturally. He heard someone come out after him, and it was incredibly annoying to have to turn his head to find out who it was instead of simply knowing by the scent and the rhythms of the body. The Slayer.
She crossed her arms and said, "I'm coming, too. I can't have you running around loose in my town without a chip."
He looked at her incredulously. "You think I'm gonna spend my time in this body killing people? How? Not to mention, what for? Can't eat them, can I?"
Buffy looked a little less certain. "But you still want to, don't you?"
Spike tried to find the answer to that in himself. "Actually, not at the moment, no. Still evil though," he added hastily.
"Of course."
"It's just no fun when you can't scent your prey, or can't drink their blood, you know? Never was one for ending the world and such."
"So, we could patrol together?" Buffy offered.
Spike stepped back, hands held up in mock horror. "Oh please, Slayer, I may not be up for killing myself, but I'm not going to be that much of a killjoy! Besides, have some pity on your poor Mum's body! You gonna pit that against a demon? Who you can't kill because he's really your friendly neighbor?"
"I'm bored, I need to hunt!" she protested.
"Yeah, me too," he said, but refused to be blackmailed into sharing her misery.
He started to walk off, leaving a pouting Slayer behind. He called out to her over his shoulder, "Just gonna have me a drink and some fun!"
Once he was rid of her, things started out pretty disappointing. There were more people milling about on the streets than there had been in the morning, but they all looked glum, feeling lost and miserable he presumed. Humans were so limited. Just about anything could be seen as a chance for fun and games, if only one wanted to. Look at him! A day and a night, or more, to spend in a human body? What an amazing opportunity! Try out female sexuality; what bloke wouldn't like that for a spell? He decided to try out Willy's, he bet demons wouldn't be so annoyingly depressed about all this.
As he'd expected, Willy had a full house. A motley group of demon and people, or anyway that's what they looked like on the surface, were having grand old time. The air reeked of booze and demonic pheromones, and he could see in Willy's backroom that the kitten poker game, on-going since 1972, had stopped, and that Willy was renting it out by the quarter-hour. Well, maybe he could even make a few bucks! Just humans, though. He remembered the two times that he had been sucked by a vampire, while being human, with mixed feelings; he'd been lucky not to have been vamped for the second time by that bloody bint Harmony.
He stuck out his tits and bum as he'd seen women do and made his way to the bar. As he had expected, his presence was eagerly welcomed by the other customers.
"Who's in there?" a gruff Fyarl behind the bar asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he answered curtly. "Willy, I presume? JD, please, and leave the bottle. Pack o' smokes, as well."
"Oh, it's you, Spike," the demon grunted. "Lucky boy! Gonna get some nookie, ain't ya?"
"'Course," Spike answered. "No point wasting an opportunity, is there?"
Sure enough, a handsome young fellow sidled up to Spike and gave him a winning smile.
"I say," he said to Spike, "what a delightful body you are sporting! Have you tried out its many possibilities yet?"
Older geezer in there, Spike judged. Not necessarily a bad thing.
He winked at the young man and leant on the bar to give him a better view of his cleavage.
"Ready and willing for some fun and games," he said, and knocked back his first glass of bourbon. It hit him in unexpected places, and after the coughing had subsided he assessed the effect with misgiving. Damn tart had just about zero tolerance for alcohol. Through teary, blinking eyes, he saw a masculine hand pour in another shot.
"Come on, love," the man purred. "Let's go to place where we can chat in comfort…"
Yeah. This was going as planned, wasn't it? Already he had a little trouble managing the heels. He felt his upper arm being gripped and was propelled to the backroom, which was just being vacated by Xander's reeling body and a grinning white-haired vamp. Shit. That was him! His body! He tried to go after it, but the man pushed him inside and shut the door. Willy had shoved the table aside and thrown a couple of blankets on the floor for the comfort of his guests.
Spike was so off-balance that he let himself be posited on the floor, and was halfway undressed before he knew what was happening. The man pawed at his breasts a little, and then got out his dick and started pushing around more or less in the region of his pussy. What the hell? This was either a twelve-year-old boy or a very, very old man, from even before 'Love without fear'!
"Hey, you git!" he protested. "Never hear of foreplay? Give us a nice bit of suck or fingers first, eh?"
"Oh, yes, sorry about that, jolly good idea," the man mumbled and went to work with his hand. Spike sighed and went on to give some detailed instructions.
"No, you idiot. Women don't have a prostate! They have a clit, yes there it is! Gay bloke, I suppose? Just my luck. Now, put it in, and hurry up a bit, I want to find someone who'd done this a bit more often, if you get my drift?"
It was over quickly, thank god. Spike brought himself off while the man lay panting beside him. He got up and smoothed his clothes. He'd better be a little more picky with his next victim. What he really wanted was someone who was a vamp in real life, he supposed. Humans with their inhibitions or sheer lack of skill…didn't want to try that out a second time. Harris had floundered a bit in Harmony's body, but he'd been willing and obedient at least. Hm. Now, the girl who'd inhabited the Slayer - that had been a little wildcat.
He poked the supine man with the sharp toes of his shoes. "Hey, we're done. I need you out of here; I've got plans for tonight."
That got him a glare. The guy did up his pants, and for good measure gave Spike an angry shove when he left the room. Spike saw it, thought he blocked, but ended up against the wall, wrenching his ankle painfully, and to his dismay felt tears spring into his eyes. What the hell! It bloody well hurt, and he apparently had no physical strength to speak of. Having tits and a cunt was all very nice, but being so damned weak was no fun. The commotion in the bar seemed different suddenly. If any of these gits, let alone all of them, decided to take him on there was nothing he could do about it. It was very humbling and off-putting.
Spike squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. Nothing was more dangerous than showing fear. He had to get in there with the exact same attitude as before or he was toast. His bottle of JD was still standing on the bar-top. Good old Willy! He was thinking ahead, of who'd be his customers again after this body swap thing blew over.
He was making his way to the bar with every appearance of calm, ready to grip his bottle and clear out as fast as he safely could, when his upper arm was firmly grasped. He turned, alarmed, and had to look up to the magnificent specimen standing there smiling at him.
"No thanks, love," he said. "I've got syphilis, and it's bloody well catching."
He tried to wrench loose, but the smiling giant was too strong for him.
"I've got a proposition for you, sweetheart," the man said. "My friend here is a bit more partial to women than I'd like, and he wants you to join us."
Spike looked in the way the man indicated and saw Riley's body standing there smirking. What was it with these Scoobies that he kept bumping into them or their bodies? Sunnydale wasn't that small, the switching simply couldn't be random. The English warlock must be doing the switches for a purpose.
He was hustled back to the poker room again, protesting loudly, but nobody was paying attention, and try as he might he couldn't get free of the iron grip.
"It's not fair," he complained. "I'm a free woman; you have no right to force me to have sex with you." How on earth did real women ever get through a single night on the town without being molested?
"Shut it, love," the big man said. He motioned to the Riley-body, who started getting Spike's clothes off.
"Oi!" Spike said, when the Riley was a bit rough. He discovered that his fragile body didn't particularly like it rough. "Be gentle with me!" The Riley ignored him.
The tall man had gotten rid of his own clothes quickly and efficiently and left them in a heap on a rickety wooden poker chair. Spike thought of past kitten poker games with a pang and dearly hoped he was going to make it to the future ones. What would happen if he died in this body? Would he return in his own when the spell was ended?
A movement by the big man attracted his attention. Stark naked and all, he was assembling some kind of concoction out of little bags and sachets in a bowl. Magic, Spike knew by the smell. No smell quite like rotted powdered newt. Uh-oh. Not just rape, but magic rape. Powerful black magic energy could be raised by such a ritual. Now, who would be practicing that kind of magic in the midst of this confusion? Could only be one man. Great, he'd found his warlock whatsisname, but there was bugger all he could do about it. Damn this weak body. On the other hand, what were wits for but using to them to either create maximum chaos or get out of a predicament? The wits felt sluggish and refused to be prodded into action.
The magician strewed some of the greenish powder in a circle around the bodies of Riley and Spike. He closed the circle and muttered a few words. Spike felt a pleasant tingle and observed the world with different eyes. That Riley was actually a damn fine looking fellow, sturdy, muscled and clean. What more could a woman want? The Riley seemed the same way inclined towards him, and they were happily getting engaged in the pursuit of mutual pleasure when the magician started a new chant. Spike half-listened to the monotonous drone, his attention mostly concentrated on the male body next to him.
"…Janus, Lord of Chaos, grant us this boon…I commend these two human souls into your care…"
Spike pricked his ears. Human soul? He'd long since lost that! The magic circle probably wasn't even binding him. He could hit himself, he'd let himself be lulled into believing all this crap because of drunkenness and fatalism. Gently he laid his hand on the Riley's neck and exerted the softest of pressures on the artery, increasing it slowly while murmuring sweet sexy nothings into the man's ear. He man shuddered once and slumped. It would have been easy to kill him, but Spike wasn't going to risk braving the slayer's wrath on this point. He held the pose with the unconscious man until he saw the magician turn away for more magic supplies. Then he jumped, grateful to be barefoot, and managed to hang his whole weight around the thick neck. He knew he wasn't strong enough to win in a real fight, so he hung on for dear life and waited until lack of air mad the big man slump to the floor. He grabbed a full bottle and added a hefty thwack to the head for good measure.
He dressed, wrestling with the bra, and finally gave up on it. If that git Harris ever found out he couldn't do up a bra from this angle either…. Now. How to get the damn fellow up to the Magic Box?
Spike went into the bar and asked Willy to call him a cab.
"For Chris' sakes, Spike! What do you think I'm running here? A human bar? No cabbie is ever gonna risk coming here, okay? Besides I don't think anyone is working today."
He borrowed Willy's phone and called the Magic Box.
"Yeah, it's me. Get a cab to Willy's place, I've got the bastard."
"Who' are you?" Joyce voice asked suspiciously.
"It's me, Spike! Who else! I found him. Get a car over here and we can question him."
"Who did you say you found?"
"That bloke! That English bloke! The magician, the chaos guy!"
"Giles! Spike's got Ethan!" he heard Buffy yell excitedly.
He heard a girl's voice say something unintelligible.
"Giles says we won't be able to get a cab!"
Spike growled in frustration. He threw a nervous look back to the poker room. "Well, get a move on anyway! He's not gonna stay unconscious forever. Hotwire a car, I'm sure one of you knows how to do that!"
He slammed the phone down and stalked back to the room. Fortunately the two men were still out. He checked their vital signs, a tad nervous he might have hit or pressed too hard. He heard hearts beat. That should be alright.
Spike positioned himself in the doorway. He lit a fag, and managed to discourage prospective takers of the entertainment room by dint of exuding as much menace as he could. His scowl must have been impressive, as several people hastily scurried off when he directed it at them. Mind over body, he though contemptuously. Wankers.
Finally, Harmony and Joyce, or rather Giles and Buffy marched in.
"About time," Spike groused. "He's in there, the big one. You take them, Harm."
Giles bristled. "I'm not taking any lip from a chipped vampire."
"Shut up, Giles, Buffy said, "You're the strongest, you're not suggesting we let Joyce carry the big lug around, are you?"
Giles complied, and the three of them wrestled the unconscious bodies into the car, but not after Buffy had wasted some time squealing and fussing over Riley. Giles refused to explain how he'd managed to obtain the car. Spike dropped a heavy wink to Buffy, but she ignored it. Uppity little thing. As if Watcher Boy hadn't formerly been a little more naughty than he'd like to own up to right now he'd eat his hat. Bra. Whatever.
TBC