Buddy, the Vampire Slayer

Five lookalikes

The Scooby gang was gathered at The Magic Box, glumly awaiting Giles' arrival.

"What's he doing, anyway?" Xander growled.

Tara eyed him levelly.

"And why do you keep staring at me?"

Willow said, "Sheesh, Xander, she's just looking. None of us are used to this."

Tara touched Xander's arm in apology. "You remind me of someone, some actress. Can't figure …"

"Megan Fox," Buffy tossed in. "First time I saw her – uh, saw him - I said, 'Megan Fox'."

Xander examined his thumbs.

"Don't be ridiculous," Willow chided.

"What? They're weird." He worked them up and down, grimacing. "They're so like toes."

Buffy bent to look. "Lemme see. Naw. Well - a little, I guess."

"We'll change them back," Tara said soothingly.

"This sucks! I have toe thumbs."

Spike snapped around his cigarette, "Who bloody cares. Let's get Rupert here and figure out when I get my mojo back."

Anya sat down next to Xander.

"Better be soon, because I'm not having sex with Xander until he's a man again." She looked over at Tara. "I guess you can, though."

The gang erupted in rebuke.

"That's just Anya," Buffy said. "Y'know, she's not socialized."

"Yeah," Xander murmured.

"But it's valid," Anya persisted. "Look, Xander's thinking about it now. He's getting excited."

"Let's talk about something else," Xander said quickly, squirming in his chair.

They sat quietly for a time, listening to the ticking of the clock.

Tara broke the silence. "So who's Spike look like?"

Willow perked up. "Marilyn Monroe, definitely."

They all agreed, "Oh yeah. Yep. That's it, on the button." Spike gave them all the two-fingered salute. He lit his next cigarette with the spent one.

"Yeah? Well, look at Buffy, and tell me she's not a blonde Johnny Depp."

"Shut up, Spike."

"No, he's right, Buff." Willow looked at her from several angles. "You really are the spitting image."

"But taller, and more muscular," Xander said. "How 'bout Willow? D'you look like anyone?"

She shrugged.

Buffy assessed her. "Well, your hair's a bit wild. You kind of look like that Kotter guy from Welcome Back Kotter."

"Which guy?"

"Kotter."

"Oh, yuck."

"Naw," Spike disagreed. He took a puff and blew smoke from his nostrils. "The hair, she does. But the face? Colin Farrell."

Anya stepped over to Willow. "Really? I love Colin Farrell. She squeezed Willow's face and plastered her hair down with her palms. Willow resisted, but Anya saw what she needed to.

"Ooh, you do look like him."

"Anya," Xander cautioned, sensing trouble.

"This is good. I can have sex with you until Xander's normal."

"Omigod," Buffy said.

"Oh please," Willow said.

"What?" Anya was puzzled. "She likes women anyway. I don't understand. Why wouldn't she want to have sex with me?"

"Can we talk about this later?" Willow sighed.

"What?" Xander gasped. "No. Not later. Not ever."

They heard a key in the lock, and they watched Giles walk in. He had been shopping, and now wore a prim tweed jacket, cotton blouse and maroon scarf. Black pleated slacks and sensible shoes completed the ensemble.

Spike nearly dropped his cigarette from his mouth. "Bugger me, it's Mary Poppins."

Despite the downbeat atmosphere, or maybe because of it, the gang erupted in laughter. Giles shut and locked the door and then stood waiting. His stern expression sent a paroxysm of greater mirth through the group, for it was true his appearance was pretty dead-on Julie Andrews in her Oscar-winning role as the firm nanny with a soft heart. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot, and Spike fell to the floor choking on guffaws in a most unladylike display, his cigarette flapping up and down and flicking ashes onto the carpet.

They simmered after a minute, grunting in relief as their tightened stomach muscles relaxed.

Giles said, "If you all are quite finished, I believe this spell can be found by researching the books of wizardry and witchcraft. Tara, if you and Willow can assist me, along with Xander and Anya? We must get to the bottom of this catastrophe."

"What about me?" Buffy asked. "And Spike?"

"Buffy. You must patrol. In fact, you may be even more effective, now. Spike?" his eyes sought out the bleached vampire. He hmmed with a vaguely disgusted tone and shook his head, causing his chestnut hair to waggle in its bun.

"I don't care what you do. As long as it's not here."

Spike spun abruptly to his feet, dropped his cigarette to the floor, and stubbed it out with his boot.

"I don't think we need to find a reversal for you, Giles. As a woman you're exactly the same as before. A tad shorter, of course. A bit less bitchy, maybe."

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