Disclaimer: see chapter 1

3: LEARN TO LIVE WITH IT

She refused to let him in the room for two hours. She sat just on the other side of the locked door, tossing snide comments his way when he begged her to unlock.

Meanwhile, she used the solitude as time to get to know her new body better. Making sure she was out of his hearing range but he was within her own vampiric one, she set out to familiarize herself with the male anatomy. She sat down on the bed and unzipped tight black jeans. Hmm, so Spike didn't wear underwear. Interesting - no, gross. That was very definitely gross, not to mention too much information.

Sex ed, she decided, is definitely lacking something in its descriptions. She'd sat through all the boring lectures, and of course she'd had that one experience with Angel, but she now found herself somewhat at a loss.

With her index finger, she poked what was inarguably the most interesting part of Spike's body. It didn't seem to notice. When at first you don't succeed…thought Buffy in amusement.

In sex ed she'd often thought that penises looked weird, along the lines of What was God thinking, making it look like that? But when faced with the actual, physical thing, it didn't look quite as odd as she'd originally thought. Little bit funny looking when it was all limp and everything, but Buffy did know from experience that limpness didn't stay an issue for very long.

Soon it was itching to be touched.It was fascinating, touching such an intimate part of Spike, partly because she knew it was so wrong. Also intriguing was how she could feel the effects of what she was doing. Buffy felt the warm feeling of stimulation roll through her body.

A small moan escaped her lips as she caressed the length. To her dismay, Spike, even with his new human ears, picked up the sound.

"Slayer? Bloody hell, what are you doin' in there?"

"I'm, uh…Spike, did you know you don't have a reflection?" Okay, that had to be i the /i lamest alibi in the history of forever.

Spike replied cynically. "I'm not surprised, luv. Vampire here, I haven't had one for quite a while. Now let me in this instant, or make me bust down the door to see what you're really doin'."

Buffy hurriedly zipped up her fly, and went to open the door. "You really needed to check up on what I'm doing?" she asked, as if the negative answer should have been obvious.

Spike rolled his hazel, made-up eyes. "Yeah." He stared into her eyes, and she discovered how intimidating her face could be if used correctly. "And besides, I still want my money."

Buffy was about to protest his claims to her purse, but she remembered his ruthless use of embarrassing sexual situations as a persuasion tactic. Glaring daggers – or possibly pointy stakes – she opened her wallet and handed him several crisp bills. Spike pocketed them and then flopped down on the bed, turning on the television.

Buffy stared at him lying on the bed. And then she suddenly noticed something: he was lying on the bed. As in singular. As in, ONLY ONE BED.

"SPIKE! What did you do with the other bed?" she demanded, her demeanor verging on hysteria.

"Nothing, luv, I just came in here a few short seconds past. If anyone did anything with any bed, it has to have been you," he told her pointedly. As if he knew what she had been doing...which Buffy realized, he probably did.

She would have flushed. But what could I have done that would make one bed disappear? All I see is one, really big bed... Suddenly reality dawned on the teenager: she'd rented the $85 a night option. Suddenly the price difference between the two types of king-sized rooms made sense. They had spared a pretty penny, and she and Spike were now sharing a room with only one bed between them. "Dangers of frugality," Buffy muttered sulkily.

He seemed amused at her discomfort. "What's that, now?"

"Alright, move. Off, get off the bed." At Spike's confused expression, she informed him, "You're sleeping on the floor." Suddenly a large, fluffy pillow collided with her face - apparently Spike disagreed. "You have to," she ordered the rebel, "You're a vampire, and, and, a guy..."

Spike smirked. "Actually, Slayer..." he cupped his hands around two firm breasts, grinning. "It seems to be the other way around." She glared at him reprovingly, and because she couldn't think of a good comeback. She wasn't sure why she hadn't scolded him for touching her body so intimately; only she knew she wasn't altogether sure he wanted him to stop. It was kind of exciting to look at, voyeuristic as it might be. "Why don't you sleep on the floor and tell me how you like it. Then we'll see about trading places tomorrow. But for now, I get the bed."

Pouting, Buffy shuffled into the bathroom and closed the door. He thought he could punish her by making her sleep on the floor? Well, she'd show him. She'd sleep on the floor, and she'd even like it. Love it. Maybe she could convince him to trade places with her, after propagandizing him about the virtues of sleeping on the floor.

"Uh, Slayer?" Buffy turned around and glared at the man occupying her skin. "What's this?"

She looked at the stuffed pig he held by the tail. "Oh my God, get your hands off him!" She pulled the pig from Spike's hands and checked the stitching. "This is Mr. Gordo, and he's really old and really special and you've got to be nice to him...And no, I am not six years old, but thanks for seriously contemplating asking. I know it's a silly, girly thing, but Mr. Gordo means a lot to me, so you have to be careful with him, or I will kill you, body switch be damned."

"Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist."

Buffy rolled her eyes and stalked into the bathroom. She picked up her toothbrush and lifted it to her mouth. Staring into the mirror, fear struck her unbeating heart at what she saw. A toothbrush floated in mid air, brushing invisible teeth.

A scream tore through the entire third floor.

She'd never live it down. It was 3 in the morning and an hour after the incident, and he had not stopped laughing at her. The room-service ice cream they'd bought was hardly any consolation.

"So now you see why your sweetheart never kept any mirrors around," he commented, on the verge of laughter. "He didn't want to lapse into puerile screaming bouts every time he tried to gel his hair up. I still can't imagine why your watcher never taught you that vampires haven't got reflections."

Buffy threw her ice-cream container at him - the last comment had been obviously inaccurate and crafted with the sole intention of pissing her off - but he ducked and let it collide with the wall. "Okay, that's it!" she told him, mournfully watching her ice cream drip down the wallpaper. "You made me waste perfectly tasty empty calories on you. Now you have to share." She lunged over to the other side of the bed and thrust her spoon inside the carton.

The man in the Slayer's lithe body protested, "Hey, that's my - That's it, I'll make you pay for all of tomorrow's rent too!"

Enjoying his ice cream and giggling, Buffy teased him without thinking. "Oh yeah? How are you gonna make me?"

Spike could think of a million ways of the top of his head, and not a single one of them was particularly violent or at all evil. Irritated, Spike invented several gory ideas and added them to the list of sexually embarrassing situations. It was terrible how this little blonde teenager had changed him. First the truce, then the pity and the helping - combine that with the lustful attraction he felt towards her, and he might as well kiss his reputation goodbye and don a white hat. Maybe he'd get himself a poncy name like Angel while he was at it. Maybe Poof, or Sir Butterfly. Or Soddin' Wanker.

Rolling her blue eyes at his contemplative expression, she leaned over him and devoured his ice cream. Whenever he squirmed against her she felt her cock respond. It must just be his body, lusting after mine, that's making it do that, she told herself, Cos I have so not got feelings for him. Well, okay maybe little lusty ones, but they all have to do directly with his appearance, and nothing more.

To his dismay, Spike found himself enjoying their almost-innocent snuggle-fest. He watched as lips that had once been in his possession closed over the spoon. Even if it was his body, when he thought of Buffy being inside, he wanted to suck on those lips until they were swollen. What is this? he wondered. I'm supposed to be mean and evil. This is all that Slayer's bleeding fault!

"It's all gone," the Slayer whined in dismay. "Spike, can -" she was halted by the way he was staring at her. His gaze was intent and a little pained, and focused all on her.

Spike hated himself. If he wanted to kiss her so badly, then why didn't he? He was evil, right? He didn't understand what as holding him back. His expression changing to one of resolve, he leaned in to capture her lips with his.

She pulled away, shocked and trying to look disgusted. "Spike! Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Only what's natural, luv. You can't deny that there's somethin' between us." He hoped she couldn't. He wanted her to sit her ass down while he tried to kiss her.

"Yeah," she agreed sarcastically. "There is something between us – space! And more and more of it as I back away from you." She backed off the edge of the bed and then ran into a wall.

Spike sucked in his cheeks, making the gentle, round cheeks look hollow. There was something, he could feel it. Why was she so resistant? When would that aggravating bitch figure out what she wanted? Judging by her boner, she seemed to want him at least a little bit. Spike doubted she'd admit it any time in the present century, however, and he figured wouldn't get over thinking the words "her boner" any sooner.

She walked over to the television and turned it off angrily. "Spike, be quiet now. I'm going to sleep." Grabbing Mr. Gordo and the comforter off the bed, she curled up on the floor and closed her eyes.

She hadn't realized exactly how hard the floor would be. She kept shifting her position, trying to find a way to sleep that didn't mash her skin against her bones. She found sleep quite elusive, and the few moments she managed to drift off, she was bombarded with nightmares about Angelus hurling her into a wall. A very hard wall, which slammed into her in the exact places the floor pressed against.

Spike groaned. The Slayer was making at least twice the noise he was making. What a hypocrite. "Slayer?" he whispered. If she was asleep, he didn't want to anger her, because he was sure her creative Slayer brain could come up with some terrible form of torture.

"What, Spike? Leave me alone, I'm trying to sleep."

He smirked. "You always this noisy?"

There was no reply. Maybe she had actually achieved slumber.

Five minutes later, he heard her covers shift. Then he could pick out footsteps and the creak of bedsprings. He strained his human eyes and saw a dark form sliding under the covers. "Slayer?"

"Alright, so the floor was harder than I thought. Happy?" Spike laughed at her, and she rolled over to punch him in the stomach. Her hand came in contact with bare flesh, and roamed around a bit to assure itself of the implications. "Spike? Are you naked?"

"I always sleep like this, Slayer."

There was silence again, but Spike doubted that his conversation partner had actually fallen asleep. As soon as he posed the question, she immediately began to lightly snore.

"Slayer? Vampires don't snore. We don't breathe when we're asleep."

"Oh."

"Show me my little, treacherous snakes," said the vampire.

The mage needed to take a few moments to process the demand.

"Are they backwards and inside out? I told you to punish my little snakes!"

The mage suddenly understood what Drusilla wanted. "You...want to see the Slayer and the Vampire." Drusilla nodded as if he were an exceptionally stupid child. He waved his hands and the image appeared before their eyes.

"I call that the "Wicked Witch of the West" spell," he commented casually, proudly. Drusilla, however, was far too involved in what she saw.

"No..." the crazy vampire murmured in shock. "'E was my bad puppy, before 'er. What 'as she done to my Spike?"

"No, Angel!" she screamed. She struggled against the hands that were holding her, trying to get to him. She had to explain why she'd killed him!

"Buffy, you can't go to him, you have to kick his ass," Willow told her. It was Willow who had her arms around Buffy, pulling her back.

"Yeah, Buff, kick his ass!" chorused Xander and Giles with excitement, apparently helping to restrain the Slayer.

"Buffy..." whispered Angel sadly. "I'm sorry for what I did... God, you have no idea how sorry..."

"NO!" screamed Buffy as she saw him falling into a swirling portal. Her friends' hands were shaking her, pulling her away from the newly ensouled vampire...

"Slayer!" shouted Spike, trying to stop her writhing. She'd already tangled all the covers around herself, and she was crying and screaming wildly. "Buffy!" he shook her hard, willing her to wake up from her nightmare.

Her terrified blue eyes popped open, and she stared at him in fear. And then confusion. "Spike?"

"Shh..." he murmured, as he pulled her into his arms. She was bigger than him, but he wrapped his small arms around her and pulled her head and shoulders into his lap. "Shh, Buffy, it's going to be alright."

She sobbed into his stomach, clutching Mr. Gordo tightly to her chest. But her mind was racing. Buffy...Did he just call me Buffy?

Review?

…Review!