Freaky Friday Series
Part 3 – Regrouping
By
Li'l Evil Pixie
Disclaimers
– I own nothing. All characters belong
to Joss and UPN.
The Scoobies, minus the slayer had grouped together at the Magic Box, working through theories behind the strange circumstances. They all agreed that the recent turn of events was most likely due to the interrupted ritual, and the potion they had been covered with the previous night. Willow sat at the table, searching the Internet for rituals and spells relating to body switching. However, the combined pressure of both restraining from magic and ignoring Anya’s roaming fingers were significantly affecting her efforts. Anya stood behind Willow, running her fingers over Willow’s chest, unable to keep her hands off Xander’s body. She just couldn’t seem to get past the fact that it was NOT Xander in there. Xander himself sat in the corner with a book open in front of him, grumbling about how he was probably the only guy in the world who got jealous of his own body.
“Any luck Will?” asked Xander, as he
had every five minutes since they’d got started. He knew he was being annoying, but as nice as it was to have
slayer power and breasts, he was not enjoying seeing Anya lavishing her
attention on someone else. Even if that person was…well, him.
“Not yet. I just don’t see anything
that can help us here. There’s no record of
a body switching potion being used on humans before. How’s your demon search going?”
“I can’t find anything that looks
like the demon we saw last night”
replied
Xander bitterly. “That’s 16 books now.
All old, all smelly, all useless.”
“What about ‘Torral’?”
Suggested Anya. “The demon, it kept repeating that. Before it ran away.
Something about the ‘Torral’ not being happy.”
“I tried that and…nothing” Willow looked down at her hands,
willing them to stop shaking. She knew
a few spells that would point her in the right direction. A simple revealing spell, to show what kind
of spell had been used, a locater spell to find where the demon had run to...Willow
shook her head and closed her eyes. “I don’t need it. I don’t need it.” She
repeated to herself in her head. She
was strong. She could face this.
Without magic.
“Will, you okay?” Asked Xander,
concerned for his best friend.
“Fine. I’m fine.” She smiled, looking up. “I just need a break.
Where’s Buffy?”
“I’m sure she’s on her way. This place is like base 1 for when something
happens. She’ll be here”
“Idiots” came Spikes voice from the
bathroom. He had been in there for
hours, claiming to be nauseous from waking up next to Xander. Now he walked out
into the store. “Don’t you get it?” He
asked, and began explaining as though to a child. “Take a look around.
Who’s body do you think she’s in?
‘Bit of a flammable time of day for her to head on over here.” Spike had long ago figured out where his
slayer was, and he was not unhappy about it in the least. Served her right. For all her goodness and self-righteousness, she was now the very
creature she abhorred. And she couldn’t
run away this time. Couldn’t even leave
the crypt, not without a working knowledge of the sewer system, and a
heavy-duty blanket. Not that that would
stop his slayer, he thought. Foolish or
not, she’d try anything to leave. It was not in her nature to sit around and
wait for help to come to her.
Back
in Spike’s crypt, Buffy was staring at the blank screen of the TV. The couch and fridge were reflected in it,
but there was no sign that she stood there, in front of it. She ran her fingers
along it, trying to get used to the idea of no reflection. It would take some getting used to, she
thought to herself. And not just the
mirror situation. For one thing, her
senses were heightened. Even more than
slayer senses. A child had walked by the
crypt, and she was able to hear his heartbeat as he passed. Another difference she would have to get
accustomed to was the blood lust that had rushed through her. She shook her head, disgusted at herself for
having felt that way. She was the
SLAYER for crying out loud. Slayers
just DON’T get cravings to drink civilians. How did Spike live with this? She wondered. The desire for blood had been so strong, so powerful. And the boy hadn’t even come within 15 feet
of her. Buffy found a new sort of respect
for the blond vampire.
Unused
to the idea of respecting Spike, and unwilling to abandon the comforting
stereotype of Spike=Worthless, she quickly brushed the thought aside and tried
to formulate a plan to fix the mess she was in. First order of business was to find some clothes. Just looking at
her new body made her horny and that was something she was DEFINITELY NOT
prepared to deal with. Grabbing a pair
of pants off the floor, she began to think of ways to get herself out of this
mess. If only she could get down to the Magic Box. Although Buffy and the Scoobies had been somewhat estranged from
each other as of late, she new that Scoobies would still be there for her, to
help her out. But a glance at the crypt
door showed the sunlight beaming through the cracks and Buffy figured that
burning Spike’s flesh away would make it difficult to do anything to get her
body back. “Oh god! Spike!” Buffy
jumped when it hit her. Somewhere out
there, Spike was in her body, and who knew what he was doing with it. Well she was not just going to sit around
waiting to be found. Sun or no sun,
she’d find a way to the Magic Box.
Buffy
began digging through the boxes scattered about Spike’s untidy crypt. She was looking for a thick blanket,
something to keep the sun off her, should she be forced to run some parts of
her mission above ground. She knew he
owned one, had seen him with it on numerous occasions when his impatient nature
had led him outdoors before sunset. Yet
despite her best efforts she was unable to locate it. Frustrated with her lack of success, she kicked over a small
wooden cabinet, spilling its contents across the floor.
Huh?
She gazed in bewilderment at the pile of leather-bound volumes that had fallen
out. Spike reads? Buffy bent over and began
thumbing through one of the books, curious to see what kind of literature the
vampire was into. Probably horror, she
thought to herself. I bet he reads
through them to get ideas or pick up tips.
She began reading aloud from a page mid-way through the book.
“October 12, 1938 – Visited the harbour with Dru today. It seems she has taken a liking to sabotaging the ships and feeding off the wreckage. Don’t enjoy Sailors myself… far too salty, in my opinion. But Dru likes the panic, and who am I to argue with a little dinner theatre? I’ve also planted a little rosemary out behind our current mansion. Hope it’s grown by Christmas, so’s I can cook Dru a right proper feast…”
Buffy
stopped, incredulous. Spike kept a
diary? Spike, the master vampire…killer
of two slayers, kept a diary. Of course
it shouldn’t surprise her, she realized.
In all the years she’d been a slayer, she had never met anyone quite as
bizarre as this egotistical vampire.
The guy was a walking contradiction.
He destroyed ships, he tended a garden.
He killed slayers in cold blood, and yet he had saved her own life on
more than one occasion. He wreaked havoc
passionately for almost 200 years, murdering innocents. And yet with the same passion he loved
Drusilla, something she had been convinced was impossible for a vampire to do,
until Spike came along. As long as she
lived, Buffy was certain she’d never figure him out. And in all honesty, she didn’t want to. His quirky personality never failed to surprise her. It was all a part of his charm.
‘Oh
god.’ She thought to herself. ‘Spike?
Charming? I so need to get out of here.’ She packed the diaries back into the
cabinet, setting it back into place, for some reason reluctant to let him know
she had seen them. Doubling her
efforts, she began again to search for the blanket. At last she found it, balled away in a corner and smelling like
mothballs. Making a face, she tucked it
under her arm and started for the sewers.
At last, after wandering
through what Buffy decided must be every sewer from Sunnydale to Los Angeles,
she arrived up at the grate in front of the Magic Box. Thankful for her vampiric strength, she
forced open the sewer covering and threw it to the side. Covering herself with the thick blanket, she
made a mad dash for the doorway and nearly knocked over a customer as she burst
through the door in smoke.
“Buffy!”
Shouted Willow, running over to give her best friend a hug. “We were just coming to look for you.
“Willow?” Buffy searched Xander’s face,
confused. “Is this…Are you all…” She
trailed off as she searched her friend’s faces, noticing for the first time the
egotistical smirk on Anya, and the way her own body was rubbing up against
Willow’s. She had no doubt as to the
people inhabiting those bodies. ‘God,
nothing stops those two.’ She thought to herself.
“Eww! Gross Xander! Would you two stop it
with the touching?” Came Willows voice. “It’s giving me the jeebies.” Anya had finally let go of Xander’s body,
and seemed to have come to the realization of who Xander actually was. Unfortunately, Willow found this no less
disturbing.
From the moment she had
stepped in the door, Spike was unable to take his eyes off Buffy. He hadn’t seen his own face in over a
hundred years, and a lot had changed during that time. “I look bloody handsome” he mused out loud,
then lowered his head when he realized everyone was staring at him. “What?” he demanded, regaining his sense of
pride. “Like you all weren’t thinking
the same thing.”
“I’m fairly certain I
wasn’t,” replied Xander, casting a ‘can you believe this guy?’ look to everyone
else in the room.
“That’s because you have
no taste” explained Spike. Then he turned
back to Buffy, a self-satisfied smirk appearing across his face. “So… how does
it feel to be one of the evil undead? Feelin’
hungry?” He tilted his head to expose his neck, unable to resist the jibe, but
instantly regretted it when he saw the pained look on her – well his - face.
“No, just violent” she
shot back, making a fist.
Willow, hearing enough
banter for one day chose that moment to cut in. “Well, now that we’re all here, why don’t we crack open the books
again and see if we can find out anything about these demons, or some way to fix
this all.” She spread a pleading look
around the room, and smiled when her friends backed down and nodded in
agreement.
Buffy picked up a book
on demonology and took a seat next to Xander in one corner of the room. Spike sat in the other, flipping randomly through
a leather-bound volume of Demonic Rituals, while continuing to appraise his
appearance out of the corner of his eye.
He watched as Xander snickered and pointed to something on the page,
whispering a comment to Buffy. Buffy
threw back her head and laughed. A rich
peal of laughter rang through the store and Spike felt a pang of jealousy shoot
through him. It looked so right to
him. Seeing her body sitting
comfortably beside his, two friends laughing over some inside joke. He wanted that for himself, to share that
moment with Buffy instead of Xander.
Spike growled to himself and turned away to focus on his research.
Looking down at the
yellowed pages of the book, something jumped out at him. “Anya?” he asked, “It
was Torral? The name the demon kept repeating?”
“Yes…did you find
something?”
All heads looked up at
Spike expectantly. Spike had never been
much for the research. His forte lay in
the fight; the man-to-man combat, not sitting around a table flipping through
dusty books. Now stripped of his
strength and fighting skills, he was proud that he still had something to
offer. He was enjoying the attention,
and made a show of clearing his throat.
“In certain demon tribes, and Elder, or Torral, is regarded as holding
supreme rank over the other demons.
This Torral is responsible for the safety and well-being of all demons
in the tribe, and as such is often worshipped as a deity, or Supreme
Being. However, despite its God-like
complex, the Torral is indeed mortal, and when its body becomes old and
withered it must find a new body to possess.
In such circumstances, the Torral picks the strongest and most suitable
demonic body from the tribe and a ritual is performed which will switch the
bodies of master and servant.”
“Well that explains what
happened to us,” concluded Buffy. “Does
it say how to fix it?”
Spike scanned the page,
but found nothing more of value. “Sorry luv. That’s all I got.” His face looked so downcast at this that no
one bothered to say anything more on the subject. A silence fell over the Magic Box as everyone went back to their
research.
Hours
passed, and the gang dropped off, one by one until only Willow was left on the
hunt for a cure. Just when she too was
ready to give up, she stumbled upon something.
“Yessssssssssss!” She
shouted, getting up to do the snoopy dance.
Everyone’s heads whipped up and she grinned back at them. “I found it! A spell. It’s called the spell of Lutrawin, and it
has the power to get us all back into the proper bodies!”
High fives and snoopy
dances spread throughout the room as the news hit home. Even Spike had to smile at the idea of this
nightmare ending. “Way to go Will!”
cheered Xander, enveloping her in a big bear hug and swinging her around the
room. So happy was he that by the time
he set her down on her feet she was barely able to stumble dizzily back to her
book.
“It seems pretty simple,
and we have all the stuff I’ll need for it.” Willow gushed as she studied the
spell. Her excitement faded when she
saw the looks on her friends faces.
“What?” she asked. “Oh, right. I
mean I won’t do it, of course. We’ll
get Tara. She can do this stuff, its
not that complicated.” Her face lit up again at the prospect of seeing her
former lover.
Smiles
were all around as the group headed to the counter to phone Tara.