Shoe on the Other Foot

Author: Penmom <penmommy[at]yahoo.com>

1. As you well know, the usual things apply.

2. This is a short work that has been rolling around in my head for weeks. Place this in mid Season 6. Whether I continue is up in the air…

3. Premise - Xander and Spike switch bodies

4. Feedback! I love it – I can't wait to see what you make of this!


Prologue
Wiggy Purple Lightning

The bolt that the demon let loose on them was wicked. A second later and Buffy manages to decapitate the thing but not before it hits Spike and Xander with some kind of wiggy purple lightning.

Not so worried about Spike – 'Hello, dead already!' She kneels down to check out Xander first. As she's checking his pulse, his eyes fly open and immediately wrinkle in an odd way. Propping himself up onto his elbows, he maintains eye contact with her as he speaks, his voice seeming an octave lower than usual.

His words stun her so that she feels like she's the one who just got hit with demon lightning. "What the hell, Pet?"

He shakes his shaggy head as if to clear it. "Something's bloody not right!" he declares with more force as he makes to stand only to wobble and sit – unceremoniously, back on the ground.

It is then that he notices the body lying not two feet away. "What the bloody hell, what AM I DOING there if I'm here." He seems to come to his own answer between looking at himself, the body on the ground and at Buffy's incredulous face.

Seeking to stand again – successfully this time – he declares a firm, "No. There is no way. No. This is not happening. Bloody thing stunned me, that's all. I'll wake up and I'll be fine." Decision made, he awkwardly kneels beside his own body and shakes it none too gently.

Spike's eyes open almost immediately, "Christ, what was that?" The flat accent sounds strange curling off the tongue of its owner.

When Spike looks up and sees Xander looking back at him, he curses.

"Not again, not two of me! This is so not good." He looks around and his eyes catch on Buffy.

Something in her stance and the Zeppo's expression cause him to take a closer inspection of himself. His eyes widen at the prospect but his mind fights to expel the thought. It's can't be. There is no way in hell that this can be right.

He's isn't split in two. This is much, much worse. This is like Freaky Friday from Hell. He inhabits Spike's body and if he takes this to it's logical conclusion --- then, the evil undead is in his!

Chapter One
Captain Peroxide

In the scheme of things, Xander is ranking this latest catastrophe right up there with almost losing with virginity to a giant Preying Mantis. Being possessed by a hyena was much, much better – really. Being spilt in two isn't looking bad either.

It's two am by now and all of the Scoobies other than Dawn (asleep) and Giles (in England) are gathered at the Magic Box trying to sort out this mess. He is doing all he can not to panic. Which is worse he wonders – being Spike or being a vampire – it's really a toss up. Damned any way you look at it really.

And look at him, sitting there in his body – his human body – parked between Willow and Tara as they comb through book after book. He is on his fifth coke by his count – great, he's going to have gained 10 pounds by the time he gets his body back. 'Don't get too comfy buster.'

"Honey?" He is roused from his ruminations by Anya's singsong voice.

Looking up, he answers with a "Umm?" in response. The facsimile of his voice fashioned from these vocal cords is too much. Almost as bad as listening to that British slang coming out of his own mouth.

"Tara was just saying that it doesn't look like there's anything to be done, that it will most likely just wear itself out in a day or two. So, umm, do you --- want to head home or what?"

Just as he opens his mouth to answer, he catches the most irritating grin on his own face. It is disconcerting to say to least, too see that expression on his OWN face! His irritation grows and before he knows what is happening, it's like the face he is in is like tight or something and oh god, that's a growl coming out of HIS THOART!

"Well, damn, Harris. I didn't know I was such a handsome devil when I was angry" his alter ego quips.

Before he can stop himself, he has launched himself at Spike – no, his own neck. Next, he feels hands prying him off while Spike continues to look mildly amused at the scene.

He sits back down and attempts to pull down the demon's visage. Great, no luck. AND, he is the center of attention.

Finally he swallows his pride, "OK, Spike, here goes, how do you get rid of your even uglier mug?"

"Just think about it, make a mental picture of my usual handsome face and it should come easy enough. It's just too bad, I can't clean up your face so easily."

Xander suddenly realizes that Spike is baiting him that as long as he's angry, he's never going to manage controlling this demon. Taking a deep breath, he finally manages and the whole group lets go of the breath they've collectively been holding.

Obviously, no one is too convinced that he can manage the demon as well as Spike. Great…

A low cough draws his attention to Buffy, "I'm thinking that it might be a good idea if you two give each other a break for a while."

Leave Captain Peroxide with his body – he doesn't think so – no. "Buffy, there is no way in hell, I'm letting this --- this --- monster loose with my --- my EVERYTHING! No way!" Willow finally puts in her two cents worth, "Come on Xand, go on home, get some rest. You know, Vamp – get to sleep all day! Maybe when you wake up you'll be you!"

Anya stands at Willow's prompt and grabs his hand – that so not his hand – "Come on, really, it'll be OK."

Against his better judgement he stands, who knows if the chip is working and if he turns himself while in this body – well, that would just be stupid."

"Go ahead" Buffy chimes in, "I'll watch Spike, I promise."

With that Spike-shaped Xander lets Anya lead him out the door.

Chapter Two
One Long Night

OK, he won't admit it out loud but the walk home was cool. It was like having night vision goggles. Everything was incredibly clear. Was this what Anya gave up? Maybe he'll ask. She's never really talked too much about the whole vengence gig. Hell, maybe this will help him understand her better.

Somehow focusing in on Anya has his focusing in on Anya – her skin, her scent - some spicy perfumey scent, even her blood, and her heartbeat. It is intoxicating – to an overwhelming extent.

She's talking but he's too caught up in the sound of her voice to actually follow the content. With effort, he catches himself - 'OK, Xan – just because you are in Captain Peroxide's demony body, it doesn't mean that you are a depraved starker of those that smell good!'

Gee, how did Spike manage to follow any conversation? It was like having a monumental case of ADHD. Everything is distracting. He feels like he is going to hop right out of his skin.

He listens to Anya as they go up the steps. "And so, I'm thinking that chicken would be better than beef at the reception." She is not at all thrown by the switch-a-roo of the century. OK, so he guesses that having a one thousand-year-old ex-vengeance demon for a fiancée does have its finer points.

He opens his mouth to respond to her musings when he suddenly slams into an invisible wall. "Ahn?!"

She turns quickly, "Oh, I guess Spike hasn't been invited in before, huh? I guess the whole invite thing applies to the physical body --- I once dated a thorax demon in the sixth century ---"

"Ahn!, For God's sake, invite me in!" he counters as he feels his face tighten again.

"OK, OK, come in. You're going to disturb the neighbors and I'm hoping that the Greenburgs are going to give us a nice wedding present!""

*****

Twenty minutes later, Anya is on the phone with Buffy. Buffy is still watching Xander's body and Spike over at the Magic Shop. It seems that Xander is having more trouble getting his game face down again.

Putting her hand over the receiver, Buffy calls out to Spike who is finishing the rest of a take-out pizza. "Spike, Spike! Stop eating, will you! Xander can't get his game face down again. He's need some help!"

Spike answers irritably, talking with his mouth full, "What do I look like a bloody how-to manual?"

His comment is met with a look of sheer exasperation from Buffy. Her look causes him to drop the jokes and answer seriously albeit quietly, "Wanker needs to eat, tis' all. I hadn't had any 'nutrition' before our little mishap."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy is back on the phone to explain the situation.

Dreading an outing with Spike, Buffy takes a deep breath. "Come on, we've gotta go pick up some pig's blood for Xander." she announces matter-of-factly as she starts to pull the chair out from under him.

"Hey now, I'm eating!"

"Not now you're not and anyway, you're going to be sick if you don't stop."

Walking with this Xander-shaped Spike is weird. While Buffy is used to Spike trailing an inch or two closer than anyone else, she is also used to his physical presence – his size such a masculine match to her own and his graceful silence as he hunts beside her. But now, she is overwhelmed by this new size. He seems to be hunching over her as if to compensate for his newfound bulk.

"Spike, hold off with the pizza-breath, will you!" she asks as he stumbles into her for the second time in so many minutes.

She has turned to admonish him. Used to being able to look him in the eyes, she finds herself looking up a good three or four inches more than usual. In the time that it takes her to assimilate the change, he is clasping her upper arms in his big hands and pulling her to him, his head coming down to meet her flaming hazel eyes. His mouth stops an inch or so from hers before he encounters a scrunched up slayer nose and an "eeewww".

Taken aback by her response, he steps back only to trip over his own – no Xander's feet – yet again. Before he can think of a suitable response, she is at it again, "I mean, kissing Xander, it would be like incest or something. Plus I promised him that I would watch you!" With that she turns and marches on toward his crypt.

Trailing after her, he sounds like a Whelp himself, "Buffy, come on! I mean, look – what's it going to hurt. It's not like you're going to give him a black eye. What he doesn't know won't hurt him!"

And so, our star-crossed lovers continue thus engaged.

*****

By the time Buffy and Spike arrive, Xander is curled up in a fetal position on the sofa, his face pressed in a pillow.

"I told him that he could simply bite me. In some circles it is considered quite erotic but he wouldn't hear of it." Anya supplies.

At the comment, Xander-shaped Spike smirks but the blush that accompanies the smirk pretty much ruins the desired affect. "I imagine Buffy would know" he says benignly.

Catching Buffy's predictably murderous look, he continues on, "being a slayer and all, I would think she'd be up on things such as that."

Anya seems oblivious to their flirtatious exchange as she carries the take-out into the kitchen, ignoring the body on the couch. "I must say, this mishap better be finished soon, I refuse to return Xander's tux for another size!"

As she prepares a big mug in the microwave, Anya glances at the clock. "You may as well stay for breakfast at this point. We can try out one of the wedding presents - a waffle iron from Xander's cousins from Trenton." The mention of breakfast catches Xander- shaped Spike's attention and he accepts the offer before Buffy has a chance to decline.

While Xander sheepishly drinks one, then two mugs of hot fluid, Buffy searches for a way to get a break from babysitting. This entire thing is going to blow her secret with Spike if she isn't careful. She is interrupted from her half made plans, when Xander- shaped Spike jumps up and declares excitedly that he needs to use the facilities.

Seeing his glee over a bodily function, she thinks to herself "This is going to get so much worse!"

Chapter Three
Here Comes the Sun

By the time Spike is polishing off his waffles, Xander is on his third cup of – well, you know ---. Seeing this, Spike can't help but comment. "You really need to try it with a little burpa weed, puts a nice little kick in it."

Seeing the mortified expression on Spike-shaped Xander's face, Buffy intervenes before the fur begins to fly yet again. "Come on Spike, leave it. This will be over soon enough."

Furiously thinking of a way to break up the party, Buffy says the first thing that pops in her head, "Hey it's almost six, the sun's going to be up soon. Don't you want come see? Take advantage of the whole not-going-poof thing while you can?"

Xander jumps in the conversation to voice his concerns, "Buffy, I mean it – so help me, if you take him out --- I mean, I so don't want a tattoo!" Xander's exclamation ends in a yawn. He didn't know vamps yawned. He suddenly changes the subject, "Why I am so sleepy?"

Spike happily supplies the answer, "Well, duh? Vamp equals sleep all day."

Buffy grabs Xander-shaped Spike's hand and pulls him out of the kitchen. "Hey, why don't you go take a quick shower – you know, the whole human, hygiene thingy – and we'll make a day of it. I have the day off."

Whatever else is running through his mind, the thought of having Buffy to himself all day is appealing enough to win his consent and he is banished to the bathroom. Just as he readies to step in the shower he hears his own voice – albeit a little flat – declaring - "He so better not be bleaching my hair!"

*****

Soon enough Spike is out of the shower. He can't help but check out the package. Actually, it's much better than he would have initially thought. Then again, Anya must see something in the boy -- - well, OK – man – he'd give him that. Actually, he finds Harris to be in better shape than he would have thought. While it's a kind of hulky Angel-kind of fit, it would do – for now.

Shaving goes OK enough but the hair – the hair needs some work. Luckily, Anya has a huge stash of hair care products under the sink. Deciding on some mousse that is advertised to have light- reflecting particles for an 'all day shine', he goes to work.

Inspecting his results in the mirror, Spike is a bit bummed to see that again, he is catching a little of the Angel-thing. Resolving that he can do nothing about what he has to work with, he drapes a towel around his waist and ventures out of the bathroom.

Someone has laid a neat stack of clothing in the floor. Looking at the choices, he knows that Buffy is the culprit. Despite her vocal protests she has weeded through Harris' closet and come up with the best she can go such short notice – boxer briefs, faded jeans, scuffed up boots, a navy T-shirt and an old brown leather jacket. No plaid in sight, that's my girl he thinks.

When he's dressed, he makes his way out into the Living Room to find Buffy dozing on the couch. Normally, he would immediately seize on the opportunity to make a play for her but in this giant, economy- size body, he's a little shy – believe it or not. Do you or do you not want your girl to want you – when you are in someone else's body. Especially when the someone else is so very different from you. And if, by some twist of fate, something romantic were to happen – would it be cheating? What if she found that she liked this body better? Ahhh, the whole thing had a slight 'Midsummer Night's Dream' quality to it. If that were the case, what would the ultimate moral be – he wonders ---?

Ahhh well, first things first. He reaches out to shake her shoulder. She jumps a good five inches off the sofa - jumpy little thing.

"Can't say as I blame you." He intones.

"Umm?" answers the sleepy maiden.

Looking sheepishly at his shoes, he continues. "I mean the jumpiness – can't say as I blame you. This whole altered state thing is pretty weird."

In the time he has been speaking, she has had a chance to better survey this Xanderized version of Spike. Since the whole bathroom thing, he looks like a hipper version of Xander – the clothes are tighter – making her wonder why Xander always wears such baggy clothes. That thought connects back to the whole swim team incident from high school. She had the same thought then too – and a few others

The hair is way different – spiked up a bit. But the biggest change is something subtler – something about his facial expression – the smirk on his mouth as he realizes that she is surveying him like a piece of property.

"Like what you see, Luv?"

She gives him a wholly exasperated look. "No, ahh no. It's just you look different."

"Well, I should say so ---"

"No. I mean, you look different than Xander. But you are Xander. I mean you're not but you are. I mean, you just don't look exactly like Xander."

"And what do I look like Pet?" He can't help but fish for compliments even in this other body.

"You look like you but like you're wearing a Xander suit. You still look like you!" She exclaims, actually sounding irritated.

"And that's a good thing?" he asks, pushing the envelope further still.

"No, Yes. I don't know. It just is. With that she jumps up and grabs her book bag more than ready to change the conversation.

He follows her out the door and down the shaded stair well. He stops before the point where the weak morning light has already fallen. She steps out into the sun before noticing his hesitation. She turns and without thought, holds her hand out to him.

Taking her warm little hand, he steps out into the sun. He lifts his eyes up squinting up into the sun. For several long moments he looks up. Buffy is just as mesmerized by his reaction as he is to the sun. Finally, he looks to her - eyes shining with unshed tears. Before she know it, she is swept up into his arms and is swung around and around until they are both laughing and dizzy.

It seems like the most natural thing in the world as his lips crush into hers - warm lips on warm - hearts beating - the happiness of the moment - the preciousness of the moment.

Somehow in the moments since this altered Spike has stepped out into the sun something - this thing between them - has changed. This body is no longer just Xander - it's Spike - albeit changed but it's Spike. When they finally draw apart Buffy's hand is pressed against his beating heart.

There are no words for a few more seconds.

Guess I look like a soddin' fool, huh? Stupid grin on this mug, eh?"

She reaches up to touch his face, the side of the brow where the familiar scar usually is.

"No, you look happy."

"You look happy too" Suddenly he blushes and looks down. Feeling shy. Feeling the autonomic reaction to this emotion for the first time in over one hundred and twenty years – he feels a little more like William than Spike. Sweaty palms, heart pounding, face hot - it feels good - humbles you kind of ---

He notices Buffy is flushed too. He realizes he has taken so much of her - of her communication for grated. These subtle expressions - how much of what he knows of her is based on his vampire assessments of her physical body - sounds, scents. She is so much more - in the silence of this human body - he must rely more on what she chooses to give him. He suddenly realizes that she picks up on this too. That she seems somehow easier with this version of him - that she can pick and choose what he understands of her.

*****

Anya snuggles deep into the covers. It's a common human pleasure but it's come to be one of her favorites - warm bed, dark room, clean sheets. Those moments where you float between sleep and wakefulness.

With a long contented sigh, she turns towards Xander. Expecting his big, warm body to enfold hers. Being cradled in his warmth - the feeling of him accepting her to him in sleep, curling his bigger body protectively about her own. It is a visceral comfort.

There is a body in the familiar spot but the body does not feel right - not warm - not cold just not warm - and it is all angular and still. The body does seem to recognize hers and moves to reach for her, pulling her closer.

This contact wakes her fully and Xander's predicament is quickly recalled. She cranes her neck around toward him. The vision in front of her peaks her interest - the lean jaw, the chiseled cheekbones - the mouth is not as generously shaped as Xander's but it is a nice mouth none the less. The dark brows and lashes are compelling. He is so not a natural blond! He and Buffy must keep Clairol in business! Talk about made for each other ---

She can't help but feel - well - a little naughty. It is her fiancé after all ---

Chapter Four
Strange Bedfellows

He has been having the strangest dreams. Dreams of hunting. That alone is not so unusual, after years of patrolling by Buffy's side. The patrols, the hyena possession, his Halloween as a soldier – all of these things are embedded in his subconscious, making aggressive, violent dreams more common than one would think. But still, these are markedly different.

He is running so fast and he is chasing someone, something. He must be channeling his inner hyena because he is so hungry. He is craving violence, the kill but also the taking of a life and the partaking of that life – to drink it down whole. Beyond hunger, there is a seductive nature to this dream as well, as if he is lusting for the kill, the devouring of the life he is pursuing.

Anya watches as his eyes move furiously behind the closed lids. She watches as his face morphs into its demonic visage. A part of her is mildly surprised that this turn of events isn't the least bit frightening to her. Rather, it is quite arousing. To know that her love, her big teddy bear of a man is suddenly experiencing what it is like to have such a feral power running through his veins, it amazes her.

Her thoughts light on their earlier conversation when she offered to let him drink from her. His reaction to her suggestion had been quite strong. She had long ago learned that Xander only reacted as such when something was truly hitting a nerve. Hence it was safe to assume that part of him would have liked nothing better than to have sunk his teeth deep into her flesh.

She knows a bit about human nature. She is well aware of how strongly he reacted to Angel, to Spike now. One thousand years as a vengeance demon taught her a lot about people. She knows that despite Xander's ordinariness that there he is part of him – and not a small part – that likes to hold his hand close to the fire. If the truth be known, that's part of his attraction to her – human girl and vengeance demon. He can safely have his cake and eat it too.

Perhaps he protests so strongly because he is so attracted to this dark side. That it calls to him whether he will admit or not. For as much as he proclaims his average status, she knows for a fact that most 'average' men would either have run away by now or be dead. Xander is neither and that is one of the reasons that she is attracted to him. She can have her china pattern and her 401K AND have her demonic past as well. Only Xander can have his feet firmly in both worlds.

And now – Now, here she is, facing Xander as he faces his darkest leanings - in the body of his enemy none the less.

Spike has always been an amazingly attractive male although his continuous verbal barrage lessens this in her eyes. But now she allows herself to think of all of the possibilities. Her male now inhabits this form – this pleasing form.

*****

His dream is reaching a crescendo. He has taken down his prey and he is bent to take her. He is bent to take her.

Her not it but her.

This jarring revelation shatters his dream and his eyes open, his senses coming alive only to again be bombarded by sight, touch, smell, sound. He is a radar homing in again on his prey – SHE. It is a she and not a faceless she but the one whose scent he recognizes. This one is his. He will claim her. This is his only thought. He is not thinking of who is he, who is supposed to be. He is only thinking of what his senses and instincts are driving him to do and those senses and instincts are that of a master vampire.

He moves quickly without hesitation, turning to find his mate and claim her. The sound of her heart is a lure like no other. He will have her. Pulling her form under his own, he rips the offending nightgown off of her and lets out a growl when he finds that she wears no other barrier. She tilts her pelvis upwards, making room for him and it only takes another second to thrust into her.

Her heat is staggering and for a second a part of his brain wonders that he has never realized this before. He needs more of her heat. As he pulls out of her to thrust into her again, her body arches upward in welcome, her head thrown back as to offer up her throat.

He is beyond thought as he drives into her body and her throat at the same time.

His being encounters another jolt as her life flows into him, completing him in a way that is beyond explanation. He feels as if he is swimming in her heat- surrounding him, flowing through him. As he draws on her wound in time with his body, she arches up in welcome, her legs coming to lock around his waist. She cries out his name.

HIS NAME - His name is Xander. Xander is a man. A mortal man, a steak and potatoes kind of guy. He is not a predator, a killer, and not some otherworldly vampire ---

Suddenly, faster than she can react, he has wrenched himself off of her – leaving her cold and bleeding.

As he comes back to himself, his first inclination is to run – fast and far but this new instinct things – says nope, no go – daylight. He ventures a look her way only to see her still bleeding. Another set of instincts take over.

"Oh God, Ahnn, what in hell did I do? Damn Spike ---" He continues to damn Spike, the demon who made this switch and pretty much everyone in the free world as he rips the sheet to stop the bleeding.

As he hunches over her in pure Xander fashion, she finally gets a word in edge wise. "Use your tongue."

This stops him in his tracks. Incredulously with his sarcasm back in full swing he answers – "Excuse me?"

"Use your tongue. Your salvia has healing properties, it will heal it right up." She delivers this information as brightly and as calmly as she sounds announcing the sales on at the Magic Box.

In spite of himself, he lends forward and gingerly laps at the two marks that he had made. As he laps, he begins to purr. 'Oh Dear God, no one told him vampires purred!'

The sound is irritable to Anya, who is now pushing her hand up through the curls on the back on his head.

"Just take a little. Suck on the marks you already made."

Inconceivably, he follows her direction with little or no thought to his earlier disgust. The allure is just too great.

"Yes" she whispers, "just like that."

Still in his human face – well not his human face – but a human face, he nips and sucks at the nectar she offers so sweetly. Comparing this to the mugs of pigs' blood from the night before – well, there is no comparison.

Finally, he has had his fill and wants nothing more than to explore the rest of her with his newfound senses.

*****

He wants nothing more than to explore with the rest of his newfound senses. The taste in like nothing he can remember. He closes his eyes as he focuses in on this one sensation.

"Hello? You awake or what?" The sound of Buffy's voice pulls him from his revelry. Squinting in the bright noonday sun, he opens his eyes to meet hers. She offered sunglasses, but he would have none of it.

"You haven't said anything in like fifteen minutes, it has to be an all time record." She quips in a good- natured manner.

"This (gesturing to the hot fudge sundae in front of him) is incredible. I don't see why you don't eat one of these at every meal."

"Well, for one thing, this girlish figure you like so much wouldn't stand up to the calorie-fest." As she speaks, she reaches up to wipe a spot of chocolate off the corner of his mouth. She takes the chocolate covered fingertip and licks it clean with her little pink tongue.

Never has he felt desire hit him like this – suddenly – his heart pounding, blood pumping into all the necessary parts.

Something in his face must have changed too because she is looking at him differently – her head tilted as if she is considering him. Her face is serious now, her eyes darker by a shade. He imagines that she is feeling the same as he. Before he realizes his intent, he has brought his hand up to her heart. He has felt it a thousand times before – but this – this sweet empathy – it is more than he can bear.

Encountering the wonderment in his touch, she smiles again. Has she ever smiled at him like his before? He thinks not.

The childlike astonishment in his face as he has encountered the billion and one things that she takes for granted each day has humbled her. She wonders if she has overlooked all of this within him because of her own prejudices and fears. She takes the hand on her chest with her own and bringing it up to her lips and kisses it.

For the second time in so many hours, Buffy finds herself drawn up against this big body – so reminiscent of Angel and yes, Riley. For a moment, she wonders that the feel of it brings these two to mind and not Xander. Through some magic, Spike is animating this body in such a way that it seems to be his and his alone.

Leaning down, he frames her face in his big hands and looks into her eyes for the slightest consent. He finds what he desires in those hazel spheres and leans into her welcoming lips.

It feels a little awkward; she seems even smaller than usual in comparison to this hulking frame. And it still feels like there is too much of this body – but still, the sun is shining and she is willingly in his arms in front of God and the whole world.

TBC…