*****

Willow packed away the remaining ingredients of her spell, rather disheartened. You'd think one measly "Do My Will" spell would have worked, but nothing. Make me two inches taller - nothing. Make my hair less red - nothing. She read the incantation one more time. Okay, there were a few words she didn't understand: something about time, but hey! She'd been trying for hours; how much longer could one spell take?

She swept up the potion and was about to throw it into the shop's trash, but Giles came up from the stockroom. She tucked it behind the till; she'd get it later. Buffy and Xander arrived, and all was well until, cursing the sun, Spike crashed in.

He looked morosely at the teenagers. 'Bloody hell! Don't anyone have a job 'round here?' Ignoring their pointed looks, he flung himself into a chair and lit a cigarette. It was the last in the pack, and he scrunched up the box with a worried look.

Giles, putting some books away, said rather tiredly, 'What do you want, Spike?'

Spike tried a winning smile, saw it was utterly wasted on everyone, so swapped seamlessly to his I'm-a-poor-helpless-vampire voice. 'I'm a bit skint like. Any work? Nice juicy demon for me t' kill?'

'No.'

'Oh.'

His hunger began to gnaw in an untimely fashion, and he eyed the last half-inch of his cigarette in panic. 'Something, surely! Research?'

'I'm not paying you to draw obscene body parts on my Illustrated Guide to American Demonology, Spike.' Giles held up a book with an accusatory glare.

Spike gritted his teeth and pretended to be fascinated by a small chip on one nail. It grew quiet in the shop. Willow left for school, Buffy for work; Anya went to the basement to do some much needed stocktaking. Giles became engrossed in some research. He came across a reference to London and looked up to mention it to Spike. The vampire was behind the counter, quietly attempting to open the till. 'What the hell are you doing?'

Giles came over furiously and removed the offending hand.

Spike clenched his jaw, seemed about to attempt some skin-saving lie, but only said, equally furiously, 'I'm bloody starvin', and I'm fuckin' owed it! You pay like a friggin' haggis, Watcher.'

'I don't want to have to pay you at all, Spike. I loathe you and everything you represent. Paying evil to assist the righteous - it's an unfortunate expediency, that's all.'

'Bloody hell, Giles, you are such a fucking.. I need that money!' He reached out again, but Giles slammed the drawer on his fingers. 'Ow! No need to do that! I bloody wish you could know what it's like, you bugger. I could rip your gullet out soon as look at you for that!'

Giles gritted his teeth. 'And I wish you could do a couple of month's honest, hard work, Spike, and know what it's like having to earn money, then put up with the likes of you crawling in, trying to steal it.'

'I wasn't stealing..' The argument continued, despite a puff of metallic dust that emerged mysteriously from the direction of the till and settled on them both. Giles ignored it, brushing it off distractedly, as he said, 'Get out, Spike. Now! And don't come back - ever. I'm terminating this agreement. Buffy can live without you, and I most certainly can.'

'Fine!' Spike looked at the dust on his coat and pouted for a moment: it struck a chord somewhere in his memory. 'Fine, you git! I hate you all - ALL of you - but especially YOU!' He poked Giles in the gut as hard as he dared, grabbed his blanket and left.

The next morning, Spike woke slowly. The hunger had gone, which surprised him because it had driven him into painful dreams and made him wake during the night craving even his own dead blood. He didn't want a cigarette, which was also odd, as that was usually his first thought on waking. These were minor problems to ponder though, because, for some utterly terrifying, brain-seizure-inducing reason, he had woken up in Rupert Giles' bed. He sat up, looked down, screamed, fell out of bed, almost vomited, swallowed warm saliva, felt his heart pumping, breathed, panted, screamed, and did vomit - copiously - over some carpet slippers. He scrambled up and staggered like an old man to the mirror. 'Oh. fuck!' He laughed hysterically, and Giles' voice and face said, 'Oh fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..'

He'd not only woken up in Rupert Giles' bed, but in Rupert Giles' body as well.

Spike looked down at the soft pyjamas. He looked out of the window; he tore down the stairs, tumbling over painfully as he misjudged a step. He ripped open the front door.

He stepped out into the sunshine and turned his face up to the brilliance. Tears sprung to his eyes. He slowly peeled off the jacket and trousers and stretched naked to the sun.

Whatever else happened - whether this was a dream, whether he went back, didn't go back, died, didn't die - it was all immaterial for this one moment. He'd had this, and it was sublime.

'Oh! God! Giles!'

Spike opened his eyes and looked at Harris thoughtfully. The git didn't seem to notice any difference, which seemed incredible to Spike, given he felt entirely himself inside this new exterior.

Xander peered around the hand shading his eyes. 'Giles! No to the nakedness! Not flattering and strangely disturbing!'

'Fuck off, Harris.' Spike turned and slammed the door on the astonished human. He stood naked, his back to the door, thinking. Harris had seen Giles' body too. it wasn't a dream. If it wasn't a dream then it had to be. a fucking spell.! The bloody glittery dust - he knew it!

He was in the bloody watcher's body, and - sod's soddin' law - he just knew where that pillock Rupert Giles was. Spike pouted then grinned and laughed at the feel of someone else's muscles responding to his desires. He tore upstairs again and stood in front of the mirror, trying out every expression he could think of. He suddenly twitched up an eyebrow and. looked down. Slightly impressed, he played with himself for a while but then had an idea and tore back out into the sunshine. He sat on the small set of chairs outside the door, stretched out fully to the sun and encouraged his erection to grow in the warmth. Alive or undead, he'd never wanked in the sun, and this was something very. special. The erection intrigued him. It was soft.. Okay, it was hard. but soft, too, not like his at all, and. bloody hell - was it hard work to get off! He pulled harder but winced when it made him sore. He gave up and sat looking at the offending part for a while, then grinned and shrugged - so much to do, and so little time to do it all in! He reckoned the watcher would be pretty well trapped for an hour or two until he found the stones to attempt a daylight flight - if he even attempted that at all - so. two hours. What else did he want to do?

Spike grinned and dashed back inside, frantically looking around.. Where was it? Where did he keep it? He rummaged, looked, pondered, and cursed; he was wasting precious time. He had a brainwave, rushed back to the bedroom and found the missing wallet on the nightstand. Oh, yesss.. Clothes.? What to wear.? The selection dismayed him. He dug deep into the wardrobe, found some really cool jeans and began to tug them on.. Too small! He paused. Uh huh - humans changed shape. All the good stuff didn't fit. Wasting time.. Anything.. He dressed, grabbed the wallet and keys, and ran out. Keeping a wary eye out for a blond vampire under a blanket, he grinned when he didn't see one, and drove hastily to the mall.

Oh.. Bliss.. He spent until he could think of nothing else to buy and staggered, trip after trip, back to the car. He drove to Clem's and woke him up. 'Mate! It's me, Spike.. Spell, you know. Got some hot kit.. Keep it for me, hey? Don't hand it over unless it's me.. Password.? "Bollocks", 'k?' Clem nodded complacently and helped his friend carry the packages in.

Bloody hell! Nearly lunchtime. He'd get stopped soon. He felt them conspiring against him somewhere, tutting and being shocked at him. Fuck them. What else.? Oh! Yesss! He stopped at a restaurant and sauntered in. 'Everything.'

'I'm sorry, Sir?'

'Everything. Anything. Just keep it coming, yeah?' He threw Giles' card at the astonished waiter and sat eating for some hours. Top button now undone, he finally hit the streets again. What else.?

There had to be something.

'Hey! Watch where you're going.' A spotty youth pushed Spike to one side. Spike cursed as he thought about ripping the boy's eyes out. Fucking chip. that he didn't have any more! He actually giggled as he slid up to the boy from behind. He tapped him on the shoulder and, when he turned, punched him, breaking his nose. Oh, that felt so good. Oh? Fuck? His knuckles! He looked at his bleeding hand. One sodding punch, and he was bleeding? Spike shrugged: it was worth it. He hit the boy repeatedly until they began to attract a lot of attention. One last kick and he ran off. Four hundred metres later, and he had to slow to a jog. Another two, and he staggered, panting, into an alley. No one was following him.

What else? His hand hurt, but it had been so good hitting that boy. Just some anonymous boy.. Oh bloody hell! Why hadn't he thought of that first? Before sun, before spending, before wanking.. Fuck! He got back to the car and made his way over. He charmed his way in and descended the stairs.

Xander turned. 'Giles? Dressed body. good! Like to see the dressing. What's goin' down?'

Spike giggled. 'You.' He hit him and almost cried with the pleasure. Every jibe; every punch; every snide, stupid, hurtful, hated, resented, cheap shot, Spike now revenged. Unprepared, bewildered, Xander went down. When he was down, Spike hit him with a baseball bat, and the boy lay screaming on the ground. Spike stood tall, swinging the bat idly in one hand. He couldn't decide what to do: crush the balls or the skull? Both were good options and needed savouring. but no time. Make a decision..

Balls were good; go with the balls - crush them and leave him alive.. Yeah! That'd be fun! He fondled the bat, toed the boy so he rolled over in agony. and saw what was about to happen. He screamed again but, this time, fear overwhelmed him, and he fainted.

'Xander! Oh, God! What's happened? Giles? What's happened?'

Fucking witches! Just when you don't want them.. Could he slip a kill in and not have her notice? He quite liked her, or he'd have killed her, too.

'Demon! Big one! Get the Slayer.' ("Good plan, Batman - leaves me alone with Harris again!")

'Giles! I want to stay with Xander. You go. Giles! Hurry! Buffy!'

Shit. 'Okay.' Yeah, like he was gonna do that! Uh huh.. On the other hand..

Oh.. Yeah! Now, that was a really good idea..

Could he pull it off?

He drove to the slayer's house and, once more, charmed his way past obstacles. Joyce smiled as he went up the stairs, and he smiled charmingly back at her.

He paused just outside the slayer's door and shook himself like an actor about to go into his greatest performance. 'Buffy!'

'Giles? What's up? I was just about to come over.'

'It's fairly urgent, I'm afraid. I've just had a call from the Council. I have to test you immediately. There's a chance you aren't you.'

'Giles? Stop babbling, and what's wrong with your hand?'

'No time to explain, Buffy. Look, I have to run this over you..'

'That's a car key.'

'No, it's not. It's an ancient, mystical device.. It's disguised, okay? It's very powerful and potent. and for fuck's sake, Slayer, just lie down, will you?'

Buffy looked at him strangely. Spike immediately sat on the bed and hid his face in his hands. 'This is getting too much for me, Buffy; sometimes I think I'll just give it all up and go back to England. I'm so worried about you.'

'Hey! Giles.. Come on.. Do your testy thing. Look, lying down.'

'Good. Now, it has to be skin. I'll start here. on your arm. Let me know if you feel. err. cold chills.'

'Cold chills good or bad?'

'Bad. Very bad.' Spike ran Giles' car key up Buffy's arm. It was so perfect; the skin glowed with health, the muscles underneath perfectly formed. Giles' penis swelled, and Spike grinned, imagining running the key up her thigh and over places where she might enjoy cold chills. All in good time.. He glanced at the clock. Not much time. Fucking speed up.

'Can you lift your sweater? Sorry, look, just take it off.. Come on, it's only me.'

Buffy looked reluctant but took off her sweater, revealing a thin, silky thing underneath. 'What's this called?' Spike felt the material between his fingers and just managed to brush the back of his hand against one hard nipple. The phone rang. Buffy was caught between shock at Giles' behaviour and desire to answer the ring. She picked it up.

'Hi. Willow.?'

Spike fled. He made it to the car and screeched off. Parking around the corner, he thought hard. What to do now.?

Fucking fuck! Leave! Just do a runner with the bloody body! He'd never be caught: how could they find him? Money - he needed money. He rummaged in the wallet - bloody English git! Nothing! Except. that was interesting! Spike found a small piece of paper with a pencilled number. He grinned and swung the car away from the curb, heading for the bank. He sniggered quietly. the number worked, and he withdrew as much as he could from the ATM and headed for the airport.

Sod it!

He was alive now and needed a bloody passport.

He sat outside the apartment for a while, eyeing it suspiciously. It was evening already, and he suddenly felt very vulnerable. The place seemed empty, but he had no ability to tell one way or the other: life was shut off to him; this body so dead, in so many ways.

Fuck it. Risk it. He went in. All quiet. He breathed a sigh of relief and ran up the stairs to the bedroom, rummaging for a passport. He looked everywhere, reached a hand to the back of the wardrobe shelf and found. something else. He eyed the porn magazines with astonishment, flicking through the unexpected content briefly. Now. that was an interesting turn up for the books! These explained at lot. He grinned and shoved them back. Passport - where the fuck was it?

He found it, took a watch and anything else that looked valuable or useful, and ran back downstairs.

His body stood in the doorway, waiting for him.

He skidded to a halt so violently that he actually fell over and banged his elbow. He climbed stiffly to his feet, tears in his eyes.

The body spoke. 'Hello, Spike. Had a nice day?'

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Giles had not had a. nice day.

He, too, had woken slowly, but his first thought was that he had gone blind during the night. It was utterly black, and however much he blinked or rubbed his eyes, he was still blind. This distracted him for all of about three seconds until hunger, so painful that he pictured eating his fingers, slammed into him. He actually winced at the pain, not just in his belly but suffusing his whole body.

In the dark and starving.. This was not good. but.. He sat up and felt as if he'd flown to that position. He felt his arm and knew it was not his: it was like touching steel wrapped in silk. He felt his face, his chest, all over his body - terrified, fascinated, bewildered.

He patted the bed to find the edge, and his hand connected with something small, cold and hard. He clicked the lighter and screamed. He was in Spike's crypt. He didn't need to look down. but did it anyway. It was Spike's body he'd been feeling up. He'd thought so at the time but had not let the hideous thought really register, in case he made it true.

Oh! The hunger! He could think of nothing else. He had to put something into his body. and blood obsessed him. But he was still Rupert Giles: completely himself - merely in another's body. Could Spike's body be so strong, the needs so potent, that they affected his rational mind? Blood! Oh, dear God! He needed to bite and tear and suck. He had to get out and find some blood. He staggered through the dark to the ladder and climbed up to the relative light of the upper level.

He looked down and stilled, annoyed. Trust Spike. and why was he erect? Spike's body had no right to be erect. Erections were utterly inappropriate, given the extremity of the circumstances. He had to get to Buffy. Well, he had to dress first and then get to Buffy.

Giles suddenly gasped. If he was here then.. He tore downstairs. and how high he had actually just jumped from? He climbed back up the ladder and did it again. His rational brain told him it was impossible - dangerous - but his body whispered, "Just do it". He did and felt power and strength flooding through the muscles. but blood! How he needed blood!

No. Buffy.

He lit some candles and looked for clothes. Ah. no furniture. He guessed the untidy heap on the floor had been yesterday's and felt incredibly odd when he thought that Spike had taken them off, but he was going to have to put them on. He sniffed them cautiously. Images crashed into his mind, and scents - like potent memories - assailed him: cigarettes, blood, sex. It was all there. but not actually scent. more like memories hovering over the fabric that he could now tap into. He went around the crypt, sensing things. Incredible.. A candle whispered, 'Drusilla'; a discarded book shouted Angel's name: Spike's world was alive in a way Giles had never expected.

He dressed quickly, enjoying the way the clothes slipped easily and comfortably over the hard body. The hands distracted him while he dressed, and he stopped to look at them. He'd never noticed how beautiful they were and twisted the rings to line them all up. He chuckled for the first time since finding himself in this predicament.

No time for frivolity. He had to warn Buffy.

Giles raced up to the top floor, cursed, ran down again for a blanket and rushed up once more. He opened the door, stood behind it cautiously, and eyed the bright sunlight. Covering himself, he stepped out. caught his hand on fire and rushed back in, screaming. He splattered it with beer from a half-empty bottle and tried again. Same hand again - the other one this time, too. How did the bloody vampire do it? Giles fetched another blanket and tried with two, crawling slowly. It worked in a fashion, but he couldn't see or hear and needed to breathe, even though he knew he didn't have to do that now. He crawled back. He looked at his watch.. No watch! Bloody vampire! And. oh. so hungry! Why couldn't the damn vampire buy himself some food and a decent watch?

Giles clenched his jaw guiltily, recalling yesterday's conversation. Well, Spike had his wish: Giles was beginning to understand what it was like to be a.. His head snapped up.. Spike had his wish! Bloody hell!

A spell.

Somehow they'd sparked off a spell. Willow! Bloody girl! Giles cursed quietly and took a deep breath, wincing at the unused muscles straining in his chest. and what was that now? That wasn't hunger, but it was just as bad. Dear God, what was it? His hand went up to his mouth.. A cigarette! He rushed back down and fumbled through the bed, under the bed, in every corner. Finally, he began to cry. This was too much. He needed a cigarette almost as much as he needed blood.. More! No, less! Blood! Oh, God! He was going to KILL that bloody vampire when he got hold of him!

Giles knocked something over as he kicked angrily away from a small piece of furniture. Oh -alcohol. Another need. He ripped off the top and swallowed urgently, gulping the raw liquid down. and it was so, so good. Now the blood craving went away slightly; now the.. He sat up, wailing in anger. Now he only needed a cigarette more! He could actually picture one in his hand - even got a pen, which had been tucked into a book, and put it between his lips. It made him feel slightly better. but not much.

He looked morosely at the bottle of alcohol and finished it off.

A few hours later, Giles felt depressed enough (and drunk enough) to explore. He flicked through a small stack of books with no expectation of interest. He stopped and went back through them carefully. They were all his! He recognised them. but not the post-it notes attached to the pages. He picked up the whole stack, another bottle of something, and floated up the ladder. Trying to focus, he read the notes at random. Some of them were translations of arcane words. Some were comments on the philosophy, some just notes that related the page to other pages or books. Fascinated, he returned down the ladder and rummaged some more. He found notebooks full of scribbling and carried them up, too. Fragments of poems, a couple of short stories, some letters.. He held the notebooks in his hand and felt a prurient guilt at this raking-over of Spike's life. Or was it fear - fear that he would discover he had been looking at a mask all these years? He returned the books to their small box beside the bed and lay down thoughtfully.

There was a long time still until darkness. He gritted his teeth and tried the blanket trick once more, but the sun - now directly overhead - caught his boots and his fingers again, making them smoke. He began to pace in desperation. Blood - the need overwhelmed him. He paced right to one side then spun and paced back, did a quick calculation and worked out he had to do that circuit another fifteen-hundred times before nightfall.

He cursed and brushed a large cobweb out of his hair. Something caught his eye. He frowned and leaned closer. A small name was scribbled alongside the cobweb: "Bob".

He looked around the walls carefully: "Brian", "Smudge", "Badger".. At every cobweb, there was a small, scribbled name. Giles shook his head, bemused, but continued his pacing: four. five..

To give him his due, he reached one hundred before he thought about staking himself. How did the vampire cope with the boredom? Obviously - reading, writing, and.. Giles looked down and shrugged: it would pass ten minutes. He went down to the bed, undressed, and lay in the dark.

Bloody hell! That was some erection. He felt incredibly envious (but sneakily amused that Spike didn't have anyone to use his erections on, either) - (and shouldn't that have been. enjoy his erections with?) Giles shuddered at the slip, but continued.

He began a slow rhythm, and sat up, almost gasping at the pleasure. As with all the other sensations from this preternatural body, this was intense, sharp, addictive. He found he could prolong the pleasure at will, as if his brain had more control over the flow of blood than as a human, and he allowed that, the whole body being magical, this might be true. Ten minutes passed and he had hardly begun. The pleasure drew out like a long, delightful climb up a steep mountain slope. It was hard work, but the effect when you got to the top. and then ran at full pelt down the other side, your feet lifting off from the path, being able to fly, feeling as if you were a God, and - my God - the orgasm shuddered through him, and he thought his body would tear apart from the delight and still it went on (could an orgasm last this long?); he thought he would die but then fell gently back to the pillows. utterly satisfied.

My goodness.

Giles scratched slightly on one prominent rib and contemplated the mess on Spike's belly, the bed, and. good grief! Had the vampire's hair been gelled before?

At least some time had passed - at last! He wondered idly if there would be time for one more before.. Oh bloody hell! Blood - someone PLEASE feed him! He tried to sleep the pain away. Maybe there were rats down here.? He pictured a juicy rat heart full of blood, entrails to suck on. and was he going to be sick? He had to get out of this body; it was taking him over. He decided to replay the last Test Match in his head - for sanity and decency's sake - and had reached England-all-out-for-seventy when he fell into a light doze.

When he woke, it was almost dark. He dressed and stood at the door like a man possessed. He tested it with his hand - no burn. He ran. He ran like the wind and merged with the darkness. So strong, so fast, so thin, so powerful - so much better than everyone else.! Giles winced as he ran. This body, this bloody seductive body - he had to leave it.

NO!

He had to feed it.

He stopped.

He'd give it back to Spike. let Spike feed it!

Hunger burned him.

He had to feed it!

He ran to the back of the shop where he'd bought blood for Spike before. A man he didn't recognise was unloading meat from a small van, and looked up at his approach. 'Spike. How y' been?'

'Hungry.' Giles saw no point in trying to explain things and peered hopefully into the van. 'I need some blood.'

The man raised his eyebrows slightly with a 'duh' expression. The Spike eyebrow raised too, expectantly.

The man stuck out his hand and smiled unpleasantly.

Giles grimaced. 'Look. I'm a bit.. I don't have any money on me at the moment. I'll owe you.'

An amused smile slid across the man's face. 'Your manners are improving, vampire, but the answer is still no. You know the deal. Ten dollars crosses my palm; a pint of blood slides down your throat.' He held up a small flask of blood and waved it in Giles' face. Giles felt his knees weaken at the scent, which he could detect even through the old milk carton. A nauseous faintness washed over him, but he stood straight and stared fixedly at the grinning man. 'Ten dollars?'

'Yep. not changed since the last time you were here.'

'Uh huh. When I.. When an acquaintance of mine buys it here, he only pays a dollar.'

'Human?'

'Well, yes.'

'There ya go. Supply and demand. You need it more, Spikey boy.' The man tapped the side of his head nastily.

Despite this non-too subtle reminder, Giles cracked. He saw red - literally: a red blur like blood fogged his vision and his thoughts. He needed the blood. He lunged at the man, ripping the flask out of his hand, punching him back into the wall.

Oh.

Was that his scream?

That was the filthy floor of the alley, so he guessed he was lying prone and sobbing. and the pain! It was intolerable! He'd never felt pain like it. It seared through the soft fibres of his brain; it worked on his nerve endings. This was not behaviour modification: this was sadism.

He'd had no idea.

Giles staggered up, tears rolling down his face. 'Please. I'm desperate.'

The man laughed. 'You're always desperate, Spike. That's the fun. Ten dollars or..' He grinned and twitched up an eyebrow. 'You can pay in kind again.'

Giles, still holding the side of Spike's head, said in a puzzled tone, 'Err, I'm sorry?'

The man kept his eyes fixed on Giles, but undid his pants and took himself out. He winked. 'You this desperate yet, Spike? Cus I love it when you are, and it's been. what? Least a month.'

He waved the blood in front of Giles once more. 'Love that sweet mouth of yours, Spike. Hey! Maybe more than ten dollars next time, what'd'ya say? Raise the stakes?'

Giles turned on his heel and walked slowly towards his own apartment. He felt sick, but this was nothing to do with the previous pain or the hunger.

He took a short cut and was nearly in sight of his block, almost home, when a large demon sprung out in front of him. 'Vampire!'

'Oh. bloody hell!'

The creature advanced. Giles backed off: no way could he take that on by himself. 'Look. Let's just agree to differ, shall we? Go on our..' The demon attacked. Giles only lifted his arm in defence, but it backed off, groaning. Giles stared at the almost delicate-looking, slim fingers and punched again. The demon's arm snapped. Giles couldn't believe the power in this thin body. He waded in and when he eventually snapped the creature's neck, it was the man from the butcher's shop that he saw in his mind. He stood looking down at his conquest and felt a confusing morass of emotion.

It was time to go home.

When he saw his apartment, he felt as if he'd been away a very long time. He could sense his own body inside. He didn't know how he knew it was there, he just did.

Home.

He was profoundly grateful.

*****
Part 2:

Spike looked at Giles. astonished. He came forward slowly. Giles seemed as stunned as he was, staring at his own body now animated and coming towards him. He recovered first and said quietly, 'Spike.' Spike was still looking slowly from head to foot over his own body. His look reached the face he had not seen for over a hundred years, and he paused, putting out a tentative hand, running one finger lightly over the scar.

'Huh.'

Giles caught hold of the arm, and they both looked down at where they were joined: one pale hand lying on one tanned arm. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Buffy, Xander and Willow flew in. Giles immediately turned. 'Spike and I have swapped bodies. I'm in here.'

Buffy nodded, rapidly adjusting, but Xander advanced on Spike and made to hit him, fury evident in every inch of his body. 'You bastard!'

'No!'

Xander turned to Giles, surprised. 'What? He beat me! Look!' He showed his swollen and badly bruised arm.

'That's as may be, but that's my body, and I'd be extremely grateful if you didn't damage it.'

Xander gave an odd, strangled giggle, and even Buffy twitched up the corner of her lips. Xander came close and peered into the deep blue eyes. 'Okay. Freaking me out here, Giles. Say something Spike-like, and put the world to rights.'

Giles looked at him and said, 'Fuck?' helpfully. Buffy shook her head, amused, but then turned to Spike. She backed him slowly into a corner.

'When you are back in your own body, you and I are having a little chat, Spike. Seems I recall you wanting to feel some cold chills? Well, believe me, you will!'

Giles suddenly materialised at her side. 'Let him be, Buffy.' She turned to him, amazed. His defence of Spike from Xander's physical threat was somewhat understandable, but she wasn't intending to hurt this version of Spike at all.. She was going to wait. It didn't make any sense. Giles tried to cover by saying seriously, 'We have more pressing problems.'

Buffy nodded, still annoyed. 'Like getting you back, right?'

'No, actually, I was going to say feeding me. It's rather embarrassing, but I need..'

'Blood?'

'Exactly.'

Buffy turned to Xander. 'Can you get some? Usual place.'

Xander nodded and went out.

'Oh! That's right! Soon as HE wants blood, you all up and get it for 'im.'

Buffy looked at Spike. 'But we like him.'

'Shut up, Buffy.'

Even Spike gave Giles a surprised look at that sharp retort. Giles ignored the look and turned to Willow. 'Glittery dust. We made wishes. We are here. Your doing, I believe?'

Willow brightened. 'It worked! Yea! Oh, not yea. Very, very bad, and very, very big not yea. Sorry.'

'I assume you can reverse it?'

She grinned. 'No problemo. I'll get the stuff. You make the wishes and. hey presto!'

'No.' It was extremely quietly spoken, but everyone heard it. Spike shook his shoulders slightly and, in the same tone added, 'I'm not going back.'

They stared at him, stunned. Regardless of it being Giles' body, Buffy poked him in the chest. 'What did you say?'

'I said, I'm staying here - in this body. I don't make the wish? Then seems to me, I ain't going back.'

Giles laid a hand on her arm. 'Leave this to me.' She hesitated and looked down at the pale hand on her arm, shaking her head once more.

'Convince him, Giles. I want you out of that body; it's too. freaky!'

Giles led Spike over to a quieter corner. 'We need our own bodies, Spike.'

Spike made his stubborn face, hoping it worked with human muscles. 'I need to stay 'ere. I don't like..'

Giles came very close, almost too close. 'I understand, truly I do. I've had a very unpleasant day, what with.. Well.. Suffice to say, our energies belong to our own bodies, Spike. You don't fit in mine, and I can't..'

Spike suddenly frowned. He backed away slightly and folded his arms protectively across his belly. Giles eyed him suspiciously. 'What's wrong?'

'I don't know.' Spike tipped his head to one side as if thinking, and then opened his eyes wide in shock. 'I've gotta go!'

'You're not going anywhere, Spike, until..'

Spike shoved past Giles and staggered towards the stairs. 'No! Oh, fuck!' He stumbled up the stairs, and the other three looked at each other, puzzled.

'Willow, get the ingredients. At least we can be prepared.' Giles slowly went up and tried the bathroom door. 'Spike?'

A long, low, groaned 'Fuck off' came from inside.

'I suspect I could break this door down fairly easily.'

'I'm not going anywhere.. Just leave me be. Please!'

Giles hesitated then went back downstairs. Buffy looked at him. 'It's a trick. He'll get out. Look, Giles - he had your passport and this.!' She held out the money Spike had stolen.

'Yes, I saw. He's not going anywhere right now, Buffy. I'll hear him if he does - don't worry.'

She came closer, closer still. She laid a hand wonderingly on his cheekbone. 'What's it like, Giles? In there?'

He looked frankly at her. 'Not exactly what I expected.'

'Gooder or badder?'

He smiled. 'More complex.'

'Oh.'

'Did he. hurt you?'

'Nah. I kinda reasoned it wasn't you when you. when he. when we. got down to my bra.'

Giles paled inwardly. 'You're okay?' What could he smell? God! Buffy had become aroused at the thought of him touching her.. Or was it Spike's touch that had turned her on.? And what on earth was he doing smelling her? He backed away. How did Spike ever hold a rational conversation with any of them, being able to.?

Giles froze.

Had Spike ever sensed his arousal when he'd.?

Did Spike suspect.?

He went back up the stairs. 'Spike! Down! Now!'

A faint groan greeted him then a quiet, 'Go 'way.'

Giles went back down, smiling slightly.

Xander returned with the blood. 'Don't like that guy. Not liking the blood man.'

'No, I concur.' He took the blood reverently in his hands, looked at their faces and went outside. There was no revulsion at all: his body's craving overcame that. He drank pint after pint of the fluid and realised, as it gradually became absorbed, that Spike's body up to then had only been functioning on about forty percent of its capacity.

The night became alive. Every insect spoke to him. He could feel faint heat from the moonlight, sense when it was on his skin. He could hear the chatter inside and smell them all individually: what they had eaten, when they had..

Giles stretched the preternatural body in the moonlight and went inside to give it back.

They waited for Willow. She returned with small pots and a large book, grinning. 'All ready.'

He couldn't sit still; his body craved movement, and he paced restlessly around, aware the other three were watching him nervously.

Spike rather regretted his eat fest when he eventually emerged from the bathroom one hour later. He went downstairs cautiously, his whole body dragging as if through thick mud. He made it to the couch and sat down.

'Jeez, which one's the vampire?' Xander waved a hand vaguely at Spike's face. 'Pale, much?'

Spike closed his eyes and leant back on the couch. 'Do the bleedin' spell. I want my own body back.'

There was a palpable sigh of relief from everyone.

Willow grinned and began to lay out her ingredients. She mixed. She read. They wished. She threw. They waited.

Nothing.

Willow frowned and tried to explain the initial time problem, urging them to wait some more. Giles snatched up the book and read it for himself.

'Oh. bloody hell!' He chucked the book at Spike, which was rather surprising to everyone - including Spike. He read the spell, too, and tipped his head back.

'Fucking. fuck.'

'What?' Willow took the book back.

Giles tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose and that, almost more than anything else he'd done all night, unhinged his small audience. They all began talking at once. 'Don't do that, G-man. scary in that body! This can't be happening; I've done this spell before.! Why won't it work, Giles? Talk to me?'

Giles stilled them all with his hand. 'It's a wish fulfilment spell. I wished.. It's time dependent, and I wished that Spike would have some idea of how I felt. I wished him a couple of months knowing how I felt.' He glanced at the wall clock rather unnecessarily. 'I'd say we've got another sixty-one days like this.'

'NO!' Spike stood up, but wobbled and sat down again. 'I don't feel well.'

Everyone ignored him. 'Undo the wish, Giles. You made it; undo it!'

They tried again. Nothing. Willow looked sheepish.

Spike stood up. 'I'm sick of this; I'm going home.'

'No, you're not, Spike. You can't go. home.' Giles, immediately backed up by Buffy, barred his way.

'What d'ya mean? I'm not staying 'ere.'

'Look, Spike, you have a human body now - my body - and I'd rather like it taken care of. So, I'm going to take care of it. Here.'

'No, fucker, I ain't staying here for two months. Bloody hell, I'd end up staking me own body just to fucking get rid of you!'

Buffy intervened. 'Look, Spike, you'll be at the shop all day. Giles, you'll be sleeping. At night, Giles, you can patrol with me. Spike will be sleeping. Simple....'

'Never the twain, eh?'

She looked at Giles and shrugged. 'Only solution.'

Spike gritted his teeth. 'Why the bleedin' fuck will I be in the shop all day?'

They all looked at him. Giles said, 'Well.. What else would you be doing. and do I really want to hear this?'

'Nothing.' ("Everything, you sad git; make better use of this body than you ever did.")

'Look, we can't decide anything now. Spike, are you tired?'

'No! Yes. Fuck, yeah.' He sat down as if this had only just occurred to him.

'Go to bed. We'll sort the finer details of the next two months later, shall we?' He turned. 'Leave us, please. We'll be fine. I need.. We need some space, I think.'

Buffy looked reluctant to go, but Giles ushered them all out. He looked at Spike. 'Bloody hell, do I really look that old and tired all the time?'

Spike looked up. 'You've had a busy day, mate. I'll get some sleep for you.' As good as his word, he curled up on the couch.

'Spike. Err. Spike! You sleep upstairs now. In the bed.'

Spike sat up. 'Ugh. I don't think so; that's your bed. No way never am I sleeping in there, Watcher.'

'Uh huh. Your choice. Have a really good, restful sleep, Spike, and I'll see you in the morning.'

'What you saying?'

Giles grinned. 'Nothing. Sleep tight.'

Obviously, he didn't. He turned, fell off, cursed, groaned, stretched but couldn't and finally got up, pulled some cushions onto the floor and tried to sleep there. He dozed lightly some of the night, but was shocked when a toe poked him awake when it seemed he'd only just lain down on the hard floor.

The hard floor. that he now couldn't get up from. Giles put a hand down, and Spike sat up gingerly. Giles only twitched an eyebrow at him and turned to make some tea. Spike's jaw dropped open. The human had come down, dressed only in Spike's familiar black jeans. The vampire began to chuckle, tried to suppress it, but Giles heard it easily. 'What?'

Spike shook his head then shrugged and said, 'Never seen the back view before. And.. Well, shit, my bum looks great in those.'

Giles whirled around and tried to look, caught Spike's smirk, and stomped off, annoyed, to the kitchen. Spike slowly climbed to his feet. 'Oh, bloody hell! Who ran me over in the night?'

'Told you.'

'Yeah, well, you fucking know everything, don't you?'

'Well, I do sort of know my own body, yes.'

'How do you put up with this? I'd be ending it pretty damn quick, if this was my body like.'

Giles laughed. 'I think the contrast is rather getting to you, Spike. Normally, my body feels fine to me. But after being in this one for..' He glanced down at the toned belly and rippling abs thoughtfully, looked at the blood he held in his hand, and shuddered.

Spike suddenly frowned and glanced up uneasily in the direction of the bathroom. 'Bugger - weird feeling again. Different. What is it? Feel. sick? No..'

'Hungry?'

'Oh, yeah!' He grinned. 'I am!'

Giles smiled at the look. 'What do you want?'

Spike suddenly paused. 'Oh, just coffee, mate - still feeling a bit delicate like. Maybe later.' Giles heard the lie, couldn't immediately identify the cause, so let it drop. Spike took his coffee, Giles his blood, and they wandered into the living room to sit down.

'So, how's this shit gonna work?'

'I've been thinking about that, Spike. I think we need to be careful with each other's bodies obviously, but not unduly. restrictive. You can stay in the crypt - if you want.. Although, I think you should consider your unfortunate discovery yesterday. err. no facilities?'

Spike paled. 'Oh, yeah, hadn't thought 'bout that.'

'But otherwise, do what you like, I suppose. It's only two months; how long can that be?' They looked at each other morosely. Giles shook himself and continued, 'I'll try to look after this body for you. No demon fighting, I think. No human-baiting, either.'

'No shagging.'

'Err. what?'

'You heard. I don't want you sticking my dick in anything I wouldn't approve of.'

'Is there anything?'

'Don't be cheeky. No shagging.'

'That applies to you as well then. I don't want some embarrassing rash emerging in a few months time.'

Spike looked pained but nodded.

'No fucking heroics, or saving drownin' bleedin' kittens. That body's got a good rep in the demon world, and I want it to stay that way.'

'Agreed. No body art then, or piercings - I don't want to find obscene illustrations, or rings in sensitive places.'

''K.'

'All right. So, what are you going to do today?'

Spike's head turned to the door, and an expression of pure lust crossed his face. Giles smiled. 'I didn't sleep at all well last night: odd dreams. so, I'm going upstairs again.'

Spike gave him an amused look. 'Yeah. Sure. Don't wear it out, will you Watcher?'

Giles blushed deeply inside, but was thankful that it didn't seem to reach his face. Chuckling, Spike got up and went towards the door. In a daze, he stepped out once more, disbelieving that he should be granted this for a second day. He stripped off and positioned himself for maximum sun. He began to feel the effects of his awful night, drifting off into a heat-induced doze. When he woke, he felt hot and sweaty, and went back inside.

Giles was lying on the bed. reading. It was so innocent that Spike smiled. His senses couldn't tell him what the watcher had been doing before that.

'Do you burn?'

Giles looked up. If he found it odd being addressed by his own naked body, he didn't show it. 'What?'

'In the sun. Do you burn?'

'Oh. I don't know; I've never sat in it. I shouldn't think so. But you do look red.'

'Yeah, feel hot. Got any sun cream?'

'No. wait. Look in the bathroom. People. leave things.'

Spike found some, rubbed it where he could reach then took the bottle back to Giles. 'Do me back, yeah?'

'Err. with the risk of sounding like a Sunnydale High cheerleader. a world of no!'

'Why not? It's your fucking back I'm trying to protect!'

Defeated by the logic, Giles rubbed sun cream onto his strangely unfamiliar back. It was too weird a moment for him to even attempt rationalising. Suddenly, Spike said conversationally, 'If vamps wear 'nough sun cream, they can go out for short times durin' the day. I'd do that 'stead of me blanket - if I could afford it.'

Giles paused, his hands on the warm skin. 'Don't be bloody ridiculous.'

Spike glanced over his shoulder. 'I'm not! Stuff protects 'gainst UVs, don't it?'

'You're being very silly.'

Spike shrugged. 'Try it for yerself. Just one hand like. You could go out for a bit then.'

Giles hesitated then smothered his hand in thick cream. He came downstairs and warily stuck the hand into a beam of sunlight. It burst into flames, and he ran crying to the sink.

Spike pouted, shrugged, and then grinned. 'Thanks, pet. Always wanted to try that out but didn't wanna be all sore. Now I know.'

Giles cursed and threw a cast-iron skillet at him. It hit Spike squarely on the temple, and he dropped unconscious to the floor. Giles' hand flew to his head, anticipating the agony. that didn't come. He skidded around the counter to the fallen body and picked it up, effortlessly carrying it to the couch. It was bad timing for Buffy to arrive. She sauntered in. 'How's it go.. What happened?'

Giles threw a blanket over his body's nakedness. 'I hit him. Accidentally.'

'Is he all right?'

'I don't know.'

'Are you all right?'

'The chip didn't fire off.'

'Oh. Is that bad?'

'It's puzzling.'

'It recognises Spike in there?'

'Rather the body isn't entirely human, I think - given there's a demon inside it. I'm not sure that I should tell Spike this.'

It took thirty minutes for Spike to come round. He put a hand to his head, tears in his eyes. A large black swelling marred his features. Giles put a hand firmly on the naked arm. 'You know that was an accident, don't you Spike? I never expected it to hit you, or for it to be so hard. I had no idea. I'm truly sorry, Spike.'

Spike nodded morosely. 'Sorry 'bout the hand, too. Were funny when I thought of it out sunbathing.'

'It didn't hurt all that much.. Not as much as this chip, anyway.'

'Ah. Bit of a bugger, ain't it?'

Giles saw Spike had no suspicion of the curious discovery. They couldn't speak more, for Buffy came in with an assortment of lotions, which she began to apply systematically to the bump. She sat on the edge of the couch against Spike's semi-naked, soft, borrowed, human body. She seemed entirely blas� and relaxed about ministering to the patient until Spike said softly, 'Umm. rub a bit 'arder, Slayer.'

She reared back. She looked at Giles then back at Spike. 'I forgot! I actually forgot! Giles.! How many days?'

Giles twitched up Spike's scared eyebrow. 'Quite.' The contrast was too much. She fled.

Giles gave Spike a look. Spike just pouted, stood shakily and said, 'I'm going back out.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah.' They paused uneasily, both aware that more was changing than their relative appearances, but both unable to express exactly what these other changes were.

Spike spent the whole day just lying naked in the sun. Giles called him in for lunch, but he refused. He did nothing: didn't read, didn't think, but just lay naked, stretched out with his face to the sun. Once or twice, he turned over - but that was that. The sun aside, he'd managed a relatively normal vampire day.

When he came in, he could sense Giles' restlessness; he was pacing around, eyeing the sunset balefully. 'I have to get out of this house, or I'll go mad!'

'How long to go?'

Giles seemed to consider this and said, surprised, 'Ten minutes, thirty-three seconds and.. How did I know that?'

'Dunno, pet, but we do. Cool hey? And kinda vital. Take note of it, yes? Never push the envelope. If that body tells you something, you listen, yeah?'

Giles looked at Spike and gave him a sly smile. 'I'm afraid I have been - a number of times today.'

Spike tried to look shocked but couldn't, and only laughed. 'Enjoy it while you can, human.'

'What do you want to eat, Spike? You've not eaten all day.'

'Dunno. What you got?'

Spike chose something very, very small and then didn't eat much of that. Giles didn't notice, for he was now standing by the door, tense and alert. Suddenly, he was off, running into the soft darkness.

Spike watched him go with a confused frown, but then shrugged and went up to get dressed. He packed up some clothes from the watcher's wardrobe and went back to his own place. It was easy - until he got downstairs and couldn't see anything; that was extremely disconcerting. His human eyes were totally unable to pick up and amplify any faint trace of ambient light. He stumbled around, trying to find his candles, and cursed when he remembered he no longer had his lighter. He undressed and lay on the bed, until he realised he had to pee. He cursed again and considered just doing it over the side, but wondered what that would smell like when he got his better body back. Still cursing, he stumbled back to the ladder and out into the warm night air.

That was a mistake: naked, human - he felt like a kitten in a pit-bull terrier training camp. He peed as quickly as he could and retreated inside, stubbed his toe in the dark and lay awake all night, imagining he could hear the door of his crypt opening. As soon as it was light enough to see, he dressed and went. home.

Wisely, Giles - just back from his night time activities - did not comment on this return and merely said, 'Breakfast?'

Spike shook his head and went back out to sleep in the safety of the sun.

After that, the days began to merge into a slow, non-eventful routine. They developed a hotbed system without really trying. Conveniently forgetting his disdain for Giles' bed, Spike had just added a few more pillows and snuggled in that night. He would often wake to find Giles in the room, waiting for him to get up, and would watch lazily from the bed as the pale body wandered around, preparing for a shower, or sat distractedly in front of the large dress mirror. Sometimes, Giles would find Spike had fallen back into a heavy, morning doze and would sit alongside him until he woke again. Gradually, the handover moments from Spike's night time bed to Giles' daytime lair. extended. They began to talk: Spike - soft, relaxed, warm, and unwilling to lose these delights by getting up; Giles - full of impressions of the night that he knew Spike would understand.

They became increasingly blas� about nakedness. When Giles came back from his shower one day without his habitual towel tied securely around his waist, and Spike didn't comment on this or find it strange, they never really bothered about modesty again. They didn't attempt to rationalise this strange ease with each other until rather forced to one day. Giles had just taken a shower, and Spike had just come in from sunbathing, when Xander burst in.

He looked at the two naked men and blushed deeply. 'You really need to get a room!' Giles snatched up his towel and tied it firmly around the slim, pale waist. Spike stepped back into some jeans but didn't bother to do them up properly. He looked at Giles with a rather puzzled expression. Giles returned the look and shrugged.

'What's the problem, Xander? I've rather seen all that that body has to offer, yes?'

'Well, okay, granted. but still with the weirdness.'

Spike laughed. 'I take the watcher's body for a dump, mate; it ain't like he's got any secrets from me.'

'Oh! Way too much information!'

Giles only chuckled and gave Spike an odd look. Xander glanced at the clock, which everyone seemed to have decided would mark the passage of the days, and said very distinctly, 'And there is how much longer to go?'

Giles suddenly looked even more confused and said to Spike, 'I've lost track. How many days?'

Spike shrugged. 'Dunno.'

Xander was anything but reassured and backed away slowly. He left and walked to Buffy's, increasingly worried and perplexed.

Odd moments occurred that proved the two main protagonists were not the only ones losing track of time. One day, Willow came in and sat beside Spike on the couch. She began to show him a spell she'd been working on. He glanced at her lowered head with amusement, and then at Giles who only raised one eyebrow and returned to his chess game. Spike watched her silently. She finally looked up. 'What do you think?'

Spike spoke carefully. 'I think that has potential, Willow. Work on it, and we'll see, shall we?'

She beamed and left.

There was a long silence in the room, and Spike eyed Giles out of the corner of one eye, waiting for him to comment. Eventually, Spike heard a soft murmur. 'You do me better than I do you, I think.'

Spike chuckled. 'Yeah, I'm a one-off, mate.'

Giles looked up. 'Want to play? The Times chess problem can become a little. lacking sometimes.'

Spike hesitated. 'This don't mean I'm softening or nothing, 'k? Still evil.'

'Of course. Fully understood.'

They played for hours; Spike missing his sunbathing but feeling he was doing a good turn keeping his body from being too bored.

*****