Part Two: Girlish Figure.

Xander knew that he should think this was funny. And sure, in a few seconds, the cosmic-level irony was going to hit him, and he was gonna start laughing his ass off.

Any time now.

He couldn't help staring, though. It wasn't just the concept of Spike! Is a girl! that had him staring. It wasn't even the sight of Spike as a girl that was throwing him so much.

It was the way that girl-Spike looked.

He'd been short as a guy, and apparently that was one of the things that translated over pretty well, because he barely topped 5'2". He made Xander feel like a giant, and at six feet, Xander wasn't exactly the tallest guy around.

Another thing that had translated over was his cheekbones. Those high, sharp-enough-to-draw-blood cheekbones, set in a female face that was softer and less angular, but slightly more tilted and exotic. His eyes were the same, with the same scar through his eyebrow, and his hair was the same length, but now fell into messy, natural spikes instead of being slicked back against his skull.

One thing that hadn't changed over with him was the lean, flat planes of his torso. Instead he had rather... bountiful curves, including a fairly tiny waist, smoothly curving hips, and extremely generous breasts, of which Xander could see far more than he wanted to let himself see, what with the loose drape of Tara's shirt and Spike's braless state. Xander, thankfully for his sanity, couldn't see what Spike's ass looked like, but he was willing to be that it, too, was an example of feminine perfection, just like the rest of him.

"-Xander will have to take him in."

"Huh?" Xander's head snapped around to stare at Buffy, who had been speaking. "What's this about me and the bleached wonder?"

Buffy sighed. "Weren't you listening? We can't leave Spike alone like this. I can't take him in- Giles is already sleeping on the couch, and Willow and Tara are in the spare rooms. The only one who lives alone is you."

"And me," Anya pointed out. "But I won't let Spike in my apartment. He'll get blood on the counters and track mud over my carpet."

"And we can't have that, can we," Buffy muttered under her breath, then added, louder, "So you see, Xander, that you'll have to be the one to put him up for a while."

"No, I don't see," he said. "Why can't he stay in his crypt? For that matter, why can't Willow just turn him back?"

"You really weren't listening, were you?" Buffy said, sounding tired. Xander winced a little inside- she always sounded tired these days, but this couldn't be helping. He resolved to be the good guy, the stand-up trustworthy Xan-man, and take a little of the burden off of her already overloaded shoulders. "Willow can't turn him back until the new moon, which is two weeks from now. Something about natural cycles or something. And we can't leave him alone in his crypt. Have you looked at him?"

Xander had, indeed, looked at him.

"What if some drunken frat-boy gets a little overenthusiastic? He can't defend himself against humans."

As much as he hated to admit it, he saw Buffy's point. Spike, with his new female good looks, was just the sort of tempting treat some of the more aggressive cruisers that Sunnydale University had to offer would love to get ahold of. Spike couldn't stay on his own, which meant that he had to stay with someone else. And, unfortunately for Xander's libido, that "someone else" appeared to be him.

"Alright," he said, and saw the shock leap across Buffy's features. What, he couldn't do the right thing occasionally? Thanks for the confidence, Buff. Just because he hated Spike's guts didn't meant that he didn't feel kinda sorry for the guy. Xander couldn't even imagine what it would be like to wake up with breasts, and Spike, who was easily the most masculine man Xander had ever met, had to be majorly freaking out.

"Xander, are you sure?" Willow asked, and he cast her an irritable glance. Sure, she said she was sorry for what she did, but he kinda wished that she would just stay quiet for now, since the whole damn mess was her fault.

"Yeah, I'm sure. C'mon, Blondie. Looks like you're crashing at my place tonight."

"Oi! Anyone gonna bother to ask me what I want to do?" Spike's voice was different, too- not so much higher, per say, as lighter, though it still had the very slight smoker's rasp. Not that Xander had been paying an undue attention to Spike's voice, of course.

"No," Xander answered him, making sure to keep his voice cheerful and mocking, to mask the pity that he felt. He knew that Spike wouldn't appreciate it. "You get no choice, Bleachjob. You're coming home with me."

"Just what I always wanted, Mum," Spike muttered, and followed him out of the shop.