PG-13

Summary: S/B. Early season 6. Spike has a plan to help Buffy with her finances, whether she wants it or not. Things get out of hand.....

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Buffy stormed through the cemetery, dragging the Master behind her. Spike walked casually beside her, trying to make her see reason. It wasn't going like he'd hoped.

"You cannot sell stuff with my name on it, Spike!"

Spike looked upset. "Why not?"

Buffy stopped and gave him a look that implied he had the intelligence of a spatula, and said, "It's not right."

Spike stared at her. "What's not right about it? The wankers are happy to buy the stuff."

"You... you're... exploiting my... my...position!"

Spike raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Not lately."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, then punched him in the nose.

"Ow!" Spike staggered back, a hand over his bleeding nose.

Buffy stood still, her rage immobilizing her, as she wavered between staking Spike or simply crippling him.

Spike seemed to sense his precarious fate and chose not to speak.

After several minutes of glaring at one another, Buffy grabbed the Master and turned and marched away.

Spike stayed where he was. Why did he say things like that? He grinned. Because she always walked right into them. He shook his head. He had to stop. 'Get a grip, mate. You aren't gonna' win her over like that.'

He glanced around, wondering where the Bobs had gotten to. He didn't really care. He watched Buffy for a few minutes, wondering why the right words were so elusive to him. Eventually, he'd have to say one proper thing to her. The odds had to be in his favor by now.

Spike sighed and lit a cigarette. He'd let her go for a bit, then catch up. Maybe she wouldn't be so mad.

A noise startled him and he whipped around, his cigarette marking a fiery trail through the darkness. He only had a second to register the dark shape bounding toward him.

"Bloody he-!"

The hellhound hit him in the chest and they both crashed to the ground.

"Mangy wanker! Get off--!"

The dog, paws on Spike's chest, sat back, tilted his head at his master, then leaned in and licked Spike from chin to forehead.

"Aaggghhh--!"

"It is with fervent longing that we have awaited the return of the wise Balador to instruct us in rescuing our master." Bob smiled. "It will not be long now and we, his devoted servants, will once again bask in the light of his supreme intelligence."

Giles eyed him with a new interest. "Balador does seem a bit. ,.. brighter than the rest of you. Why is that?"

Bob's eyes lit with delight. "Ah, the tale of noble Balador is a long one with a sorrowful ending, as his fate has been shrouded from us, his erstwhile companions, lo these many years."

Giles waved at Bob to continue, and began flipping through his book.

Bob's chest swelled with excitement. He took a deep breath and began. "Balador, our noteworthy and greatly missed guide was not always so perspicacious. He did one day succumb in a fit, as though struck by an imperceptible foe, then arose, much enlightened, and a trifle ill-tempered. He quickly produced yon map of great complexity and instructed us to shield our eyes as he departed, lest

we be struck by the same unseen magic that had laid low the great Balador for nigh on two days...."

Giles stopped and looked up from his book. "Balador was once as the rest of you?"

Bob nodded vigorously. "Oh, indeed. His mighty intelligence did suddenly burst upon him as a startling gift from the dark lords of chaos."

"I see," Giles said. "And exactly when did this occur?"

Bob considered. "Very near to the time our master was entrapped."

Giles prodded. "The same day, perhaps?"

Bob thought it over. "Mayhaps. We were taken with much anxiety that day and many things have since become clouded. This vexes us greatly, sometimes awakening us from deep sleep with the beguiling promise of suddenly knowing the obscure -."

"That's quite enough. Thank you," Giles said. He stared at the floor for several seconds, considering this new information.

Bob fidgeted from foot to foot, clearly bursting to continue his tale.

"Giles?" Willow said.

He looked up. "I think we've been after the wrong person."

Before Willow could ask his meaning, a host of Bobs burst into the shop, wailing in anguish and arms flailing in terror.

Giles armed himself with a sword and moved to stop their advance.

"Brothers!" Bob called to them.

Willow shot a warning look at Bob and he pressed his lips together.

"Stop right there," Giles said, angling his blade in their direction.

The demons stopped but continued to weave in anxiety.

"You must help us!"

"Oh... it is too late!"

"All is lost!"

A few Bobs fell to their knees and swayed dangerously, clutching their heads in horror. "Doom...doom... ."

"Oh, the terror that even now searches the depths for us, seeking our wretched lives!"

"What are we to do?"

"Why must Fate so maliciously wound us? Have we not done all our meager abilities would allow?"

They wrung their hands and threw their heads back to implore the ceiling, agitation evident in every movement.

"Death and humiliation await us...."

Giles rolled his eyes. "Not surprising in the least."

"How can we survive?"

"Oh, that we might see the glorious sun one more time... !"

"Our lives are but a pestilent stain upon the world!" Bob staggered on his knees to Giles and grabbed his pants leg. "But we wish to live!" He threw his head back. "Oh, that we might breathe one more breath to redeem our pitiable souls upon this fair globe... !"

Giles groaned and tried to shake off the Bob. "Stop that."

Willow said, "What's wrong?"

Giles shook his head, not wanting to know. They had enough problems as it was.

The Bobs were nearing apoplexy and unable to communicate.

Giles disentangled himself from the Bob at his feet and moved away, keeping his sword slightly raised to deter any homicidal/suicidal attempts from the Bobs.

Willow glanced at Giles. He shook his head, not certain what to do.

Willow crouched in front of the nearest Bob, who wobbled perilously on his knees. "Uh... Bob?"

He stopped his weaving and stared at her.

"What's wrong?"

Bob shuddered and tried to speak. Before he could utter anything coherent, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed. That set off a new surge of wailing from the demons. Across the room, Bob fell to his knees, raised his bound hands to the ceiling, and sobbed, "Oh, what new torture awaits us!"

Giles shook his head and moved away. He dropped his sword on the counter, picked up a cup of cold tea and took a drink.

Buffy shook her head. "It's distracting, Spike. Have you ever tried to kill a vampire who has your name emblazoned on his chest!"

"I don't think that's it at all!" he said, jabbing a finger at her. "You're just upset that I actually came up with a good idea that's not illegal!"

Buffy gaped at him. "Somehow, I think public opinion would be on my side, Spike."

"Oh, really? Well, why don't we ask someone?"

Spike stopped and looked around the cemetery. The only thing moving was his hellhound as it bounded around and over the headstones in a fit of unbridled joy.

"Oh, what would that prove?" Buffy said, letting go of the Master and waving her arms around. "Anyone in the cemetery at this hour is just gonna' be some demon stooge."

Spike turned on her. "It's just never enough for you, is it?"

Buffy frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I could rescue a whole flock of bloody damsels in distress and you'd complain about it."

"I would not!"

"Would too!"

"It's a stupid example, Spike, because you'd never do anything like that anyway!"

Spike nearly choked on his outrage. "Like you would know!"

"I do know!"

"Because you know everything!" Spike said, waving his arms around in fury. His hellhound skidded to a stop, ripping up tufts of grass and dirt, and cocked its head at Spike, momentarily agitated at his master's anger.

Buffy matched his gestures, her anger ready to burst forth in another assault on Spike's face. "Because you're evil, Spike!"

"Damn right!" He gripped his shirt sleeve and jerked it up to his shoulder. "Look at that!"

Buffy stared. His tattoo was a flickering melange of orange and red. As she watched, it blanched into a pale pink, then seemed to settle down as Spike calmed.

Buffy looked at Spike, then the tattoo, then Spike again.

Spike frowned. Something was happening, something he wasn't going to like.

Buffy took a breath. Why wasn't his tattoo blazing red? Why did her life have to be like this? She was standing in a cemetery after midnight, staring at a vampire with a tattoo.

"What?" Spike asked, warily.

He had to know. She owed him that much at least. Buffy steeled herself. "It's pink," she said.

Spike stared at her, uncomprehending at first, then a look of horror crept across his face.

"Bloody hell!" He stormed away and started pacing in a tight circle, arms waving in a frenzy of agitation.

"I knew it wouldn't work right!" He stopped and looked at the darkened sky. "Magical tattoos? What the bloody hell is wrong with me?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "That would take too long, Spike."

He started pacing again. "Now everyone's gonna' think I'm some poncy do-gooder -!"

"Demons can't see it, Spike." Why even argue?

He stopped and gripped his head as though it were about to explode. "Pink! Bloody hell! Pink!"

Buffy shook her head.

Spike stopped. "Does everyone else know?"

Buffy sighed. "I don't know." She turned and walked away, dragging the Master with her. "And I don't care."

She didn't get far as an anguished groan sounded from behind her. She turned to find Spike on his knees, his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

"Spike, get up."

He ignored her.

She moved in front of him. "Spike."

"I can't go on like this, Buffy," he said.

She shook her head. This had to end. Her life was beyond soap opera.

"I'm a bloody laughingstock! How can I be evil like this!" He stabbed at the invisible tattoo on his arm.

"Spike! Get a grip!"

He reached into his pocket, wrestled furiously with his coat for a bit, then pulled out a stake and stabbed at his arm.

"Spike!"

"I want it off!" he screamed. He continued to gouge chunks out of his arm until Buffy leapt on him. They struggled for a few minutes, rolling across the ground. Finally, Buffy punched him in the stomach and wrenched the stake from his hand. She got to her feet and staggered back, keeping a wary eye on Spike.

He rolled onto his back and stared miserably at the sky.

Buffy glanced at the bloody stake in her hand, then to Spike. Now what? Could things get any worse?

Spike grabbed his shirt and ripped it open, exposing his chest. "Bloody hell! Just stake me, Buffy."

Well, one question answered.

Giles paced the Magic Box in annoyance.

"Who's after you, Bob?" Dawn asked.

Bob stared at her in horror, clearly unwilling to utter a name so foul.

"Spit it out," Giles said, irritated.

He braced himself and said, "The Demon Hunters of Bandu!"

Behind Giles, Bob gasped and fell to the floor in a boneless heap.

Willow knelt beside him. "Bob?"

Giles paced in front of the conscious Bobs. "What exactly do you want from us?"

"Protection, oh noble watcher. We have no means to extricate ourselves from this dire plight that has hounded us lo these uncountable centuries with inexplicable skill and perseverance..."

"Yes, it's definitely a mystery." Giles groaned. He wondered briefly if he was in watcher hell. "Where are they?"

Bob looked startled. "They pursue us even now!"

Giles took a breath. "Where, exactly, in Sunnydale are they?"

Bob frowned. "We escaped from the mighty and, may I say, virile Slayer, who we provoked greatly with our humble presence and did hasten to elude her relentless pursuit...."

Giles sat on the edge of the table and crossed his arms over his chest.

"... but, oh... the terror that soon gripped us!"

The Bobs waved their arms around and started wailing.

"For, with all the woes that have so recently befallen us, who could have envisioned that Fate would so viciously smite us again!"

The Bobs murmured and held their heads in apparent agony.

"And so soon after the grievous journey across the Great Wasteland wherein we nearly gasped our last, pitiable breaths upon the scalding sands of destiny...."

Tara gasped. "When did that happen?"

Bob afforded her a rueful gaze. "Only last month." He let out a weary sigh. "We did heedlessly embark...."

"Stop!"

The group looked at Giles. He pushed off from the table and slowly approached Bob. He stopped in front of him and wrapped his fingers in Bob's cloak. "Where...." He tightened his grip and pulled Bob forward. "... are the demon hunters?"

Bob's eyes went wide and his jaw slack. "Outside."

"What?" Giles thrust him away and Bob dropped to the floor. Giles stepped over him, grabbed his sword from the counter and moved to the front of the shop. He pushed aside the curtains and peered through the window, which, due to the recent hellhound assault, still held no glass.

A group of badly dressed individuals loitered on the sidewalk, apparently only too willing to wait for their quarry to exit the building. They were armed with crossbows, swords and a variety of weapons.

Giles turned around slowly and glared at the Bobs assembled.

"They look mean," Dawn said, peering through the broken window.

Giles grabbed her arm. "Stay back. We don't know what they're capable of." He turned to the Bobs. "What are they capable of?"

Bob took a deep breath. "Only the most vile of deeds, borne of their wanton disregard for our modest existence and abject hatred of our kind!" He waved his arms in the air. "Their endless quest for our hapless souls have led them into many unspeakable acts, too horrible to recount!"

Giles groaned. He would have the blood of a Bob on his hands before the night was out.

"Will they attack innocents in their pursuit of you?" he asked, patiently.

Bob considered. "I do not believe so, for in our many shocking encounters with them over the centuries - some of which have left many of our order deeply traumatized and unable to communicate and sometimes clothe themselves - we have found their desire to be only to inflict deep harm and sometimes verbal abuse upon our meek company and never to knowingly cast unsuspecting bystanders under the uncaring and oft-times malicious heel of Fate."

Giles waded through this and emerged at the other end unscathed. "The rest of us have nothing to fear, then?"

"Oh, certainly not!" Bob said. "We have often remarked on the noble spirit that resides within the Great Demon Hunters, despite their profligate and, may I say, misguided and unfair pursuit of us these... myriad... years...." Bob faltered as an unpleasant thought assaulted him. "You do not mean to abandon us?"

Giles raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering why not.

Bob gasped and stepped back. "Have we not formed an alliance?"

"Not that I recall."

Bob's jaw dropped in surprise. "Surely our simple efforts over the last few days have brought you no misfortune?"

Giles stared at Bob, considering his next words. Before he could answer, the back door burst open and Buffy entered, pushing the Master along in front of her.

The Bobs let out a collective gasp and dropped to their knees.

"Master!"

"All is not lost!"

"We are saved!"

"Quiet!" Giles said.

Buffy pushed the Master into a nearby chair.

Giles, Willow and Dawn gathered around him.

"So," Buffy said, "there he is...."

"Yes," Giles said.

"He's a Bob," Buffy said, languidly.

"Yes, we've just arrived at that conclusion."

"What?"

Giles gave her a sideways glance. "Sorry. We only now wrested the information from...." He gestured at the minion on the floor, "Bob."

The Bobs began murmuring.

"So, where's the Master?" Buffy asked.

"I believe the Master is actually Balador."

Buffy frowned. "Then why didn't he use his powers? He was right there when Spike and I were pounding Bobs." She looked around the room. "Which actually brings up my next question...."

"They're here for our protection," Dawn answered.

"Why?"

"Demon hunters." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Out there."

"Great."

"We think the master switched minds with one of his minions," Giles said. "He doesn't have his power. Bob does."

Buffy looked at the master. He was surrounded by Bobs who were just now coming to the realization that something was amiss.

Giles took Buffy by the arm and pulled her aside. He leaned down and whispered, "This may be our only chance to kill the master. I don't know if the minion is unwilling or simply unable to use the power he possesses but I don't think we should give him the opportunity."

Buffy glanced around Giles at the horrified Bobs who were trying to get some measure of response from their master.

"Really? Look at him, Giles. He's pathetic. They're all pathetic."

"The master could regain his body at any time."

"What if he doesn't?" Buffy gestured at Bob. "What if he can't do it? I mean, he had plenty of time before Spike and I got there."

"I've considered that too. Still, our best course of action is to kill the master now, regardless of whose mind inhabits the body." Giles cast a somber look at the master. "Besides, that kind of power in the hands of a Bob could be even worse."

Buffy frowned. "I don't think he has any idea what to do."

"Still...."

"He's been begging me not to strangle him with his intestines since I caught him. Which actually brings up another question...."

Giles sighed. "Buffy...."

"Just what kind of sick reputation do I have anyway?" She waved her arms around. "I don't torture and mutilate demons. It's cruel and messy and I wouldn't have time anyway."

"I have no idea, Buffy. Can we please...?"

"I just kill them," she stated, gesturing at the Bobs. "When did I ever do something that would make them think I would use their heads as bowling balls? I mean, that's not even plausible, is it?" She looked at the Bobs. "They're all bumpy and misshapen." She waved at them again. "How could you actually hit anything... ?"

"Buffy!"

She jumped and looked back at Giles. "Yeah?"

"The problem at hand?"

"Right. Sword." She held out a hand and Giles relinquished his weapon. "Okay. Back in a few."

"Don't let compassion sway you from your objective, Buffy. He's far more dangerous than you can imagine."

"I can imagine it pretty good, actually, Giles."

"Yes, very well."

Buffy approached the master and said, "Can I talk to you outside, Bob?"

A look of horror flitted across the minion's face and he let out a wail and fell to his knees.

The Bobs followed suit and Buffy found herself surrounded by howling Bobs.

Xander and Anya walked quickly toward the Magic Box.

"I don't see why we couldn't keep the truck."

Xander groaned. "Because I don't want to end up on Cops, okay?"

"I think we need to kill that hellhound as soon as possible," Anya said.

"It belongs to Spike now. I say let him deal with it."

"What if he forgets to feed it and it goes on another rampage? We could all end up stuck in its teeth this time tomorrow.

"Well, that pleasant image is engraved on my brain now."

"I just don't think the rest of you realize how dangerous those things are."

"Believe me, Ahn, we know."

They reached the shop and stopped as they noticed the demon hunters leaning casually along the front of the store.

"This looks bad," Xander said.

They ducked into the alley and peered around the corner.

"I wonder what they want?" Anya asked. "It's not like we don't have enough problems right now."

"Let's go in the back way." Xander took Anya by the arm and pulled her after him.

"They'll probably chase us and hack us to bits with the Slayer not twenty feet from us. That would be ironic."

Buffy groaned and put a hand to her forehead. "Quiet!"

The Bobs choked back any further sounds of despair and awaited their fate. Buffy glanced back at Giles, who nodded sternly.

"Now listen, Bob...."

The master/minion clasped his hands together and held them toward Buffy. "Oh, Mighty Slayer of the unworthy! Let not my ugly features and inappropriate manner move your powerful arm to smite my companions and I in bloodthirsty retribution for our many vile deeds lo these many centuries! For how were we to know that sheep herders could be so poisonous in their condemnation of us? They did take our simple misdeeds and spin them into tales of horror too disturbing to recount and physically impossible in some instances...."

Buffy waved her sword near his head. "Bob...."

"Faldric."

"What?"

"I am called Faldric."

Bob said, "We have changed our name. It is Bob."

Another Bob spoke up. "What wretched fate has struck our noble master that a mind as lowly as ours doth inhabit his mighty body?"

"It was a spell," Willow said.

"What heinous being would commit such an unspeakable act of --?"

"It was your master."

"Ah. The wise actions of our master are past discerning at times."

"He did it to save his own life," Willow said.

"It is sensible," Bob said and the others nodded in agreement. "For we were ill-equipped to render aid to our master when he required it and it is our inefficient actions that did cause his capture."

"We have all agreed to offer up whichever organs he deems sufficient to obtain absolution for our sorry handling of his affairs."

"We hope it is only an ear."

The Bobs nodded.

"Perhaps, oh wise Keeper of the Scrolls, you would see fit to entreat our master in our behalf in this regard."

Buffy and the Bobs turned to look at Giles.

"What?"

"If he is mightily vexed he may take our clothing and hang us by our feet in the burning sun and then require our livers as a delicacy. I fear their wretched condition would only inflame his anger and cause our untimely deaths. ..."

"A rare case of justice being served, if you ask me."

Anya and Xander entered. "Giles! Got a little problem out front."

"Yes, Xander, we know."

"What are we gonna' do about it?"

"We haven't got that far yet."

He looked around the shop. "What's with all the Bobs?"

Giles sighed. "Perhaps we should all attempt to arrive at a specified time from now on so we don't have to waste valuable time repeating information."

"Giles is grumpy," Dawn said.

"And I was just about to solve one or our problems." Buffy grabbed Faldric by the collar and jerked him to his feet.

"Wait, Buffy!"

"Willow...."

"Giles, I think we should reconsider, you know...." She made a cutting gesture across her throat.

"Willow, this is no time for --."

"Inappropriate displays of compassion?" Anya said.

"Yes."

Tara spoke up. "We've been discussing it and we think, um...." They moved next to Giles. "...if his body dies his power will likely be transferred to his new body."

Giles groaned. "Are you certain?"

"Pretty certain, yeah," Willow said. "We don't know which spell he used, but all the ones we've seen work pretty much exactly like that."

"Sometimes the two people are tied together and they both just die, but that usually only happens to amateurs," Tara explained.

"Why didn't he do the transfer?" Buffy asked. "He had plenty of time before Spike and I got there."

"Where is Spike?" Dawn asked.

Buffy made a face. "Don't ask."

"Why wouldn't he simply kill the minion and have the power reverted back to himself?" Giles asked.

Willow shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't know."

"We should find out which spell he used."

"I agree."

Giles and Willow looked at Tara.

"Uh, I don't know if I can."

"It's not that hard," Willow said. "I can show you."

The group looked at Willow.

"I can do this," she said, firmly.

The group looked to Giles. He sighed. "All right, but try to be quick. Buffy and I will talk to the demon hunters."

"We will?"

"Yes. Come on."

"Uh, Giles?"

"Yes, Xander?"

"A little confused here. What's with the body swap thing?"

"Dawn can explain it."

Xander groaned. "I am so not in the loop." He looked at Anya. "How did I miss the loop?"

"We were providing a taxi service to my customers, which I think is more important," she said. "You can always get in the loop later."

Willow and Tara opened up a massive tome of spells and started a quiet conversation while Xander kept a wary eye on the Bobs.

Giles and Buffy exited the shop and approached the demon hunters.

"Can we do something for you?" Giles asked.

The leader stepped forward, looked Giles up and down, and said, "Send the demons out."

Giles cleared his throat. "We need them for the moment."

Buffy cast a quick look at Giles. "Do we?"

Giles ignored her.

"They're the last," the leader said. "With their deaths our blood oath of five centuries will be complete."

"Yes, well...." Giles frowned. "Forgive me for asking, but these particular demons have the combined mental capacity of a load of bricks, so why has it taken you over five hundred years to kill all of them?"

The leader fidgeted and finally said. "It's their very stupidity that makes them so... evasive."

Giles raised his eyebrows in puzzlement.

"They're completely illogical in everything they do. It's hard to figure their next move." He shook his head. "I'm actually surprised they've survived on their own for so long and not been hit by a bus or run over by a herd of antelope...."

Giles smiled. "Yes, they do rather seem to gravitate towards misfortune."

The leader smirked and shook his head.

"Have you given any consideration to their master?" Giles asked.

"You mean the one you dug up?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, that one."

"We never thought they'd find him. You didn't do anyone any favors by digging him up."

Giles looked uncomfortable. "Yes, well, it turns out the master switched his mind with one of his minions. He's actually been on the loose all this time but unable to use his power."

"And now?"

"We have the minion with the power but he doesn't seem capable of using it."

"We have to kill him."

"We don't think that will work. In fact, it could make things immeasurably worse."

The leader studied Giles for a moment, then turned to his cohorts to discuss the situation.

"So, this is the Master, but he's got a Bob mind?" Xander said.

"Yes."

"Who has the power?"

"Bob."

"Xander frowned. "Bob-Bob or Master-Bob?"

Dawn pointed to the minion. "Bob. Or Faldric. Take your pick."

"It is Bob," Faldric spoke up.

"Hey, no eavesdropping."

"I beg your forgiveness." Bob dropped to his knees and pitched forward to lie face-down on the floor.

Giles and Buffy returned.

"What's the word, Giles?" Xander asked. "They going to storm the place? If so, I say we just let them have at it and clean up afterwards."

"Easy for you to say, you'll just go to work tomorrow and leave me to sweep up the mess," Anya said.

"What's wrong with Faldric?" Giles asked.

"It is Bob," he mumbled.

"He's begging Xander's forgiveness."

"Yes, well, get up."

Bob sprang to his feet, glancing furtively at Buffy.

"Get over there with the others," Giles said, waving at the Bobs.

"So?" Xander asked.

"They've given us until morning to take care of the master."

"And then?"

"Bloodshed and carnage, no doubt," Anya said.

"Yes."

Giles joined Willow and Tara.

"What have you discovered?"

"Nothing."

Giles raised his eyebrows. "Nothing?"

Tara shrugged. "It's the spell that makes him impervious to magic. It's blocking my attempts."

Giles nodded. "Can you determine which spell he used to do that?"

"I don't see how, not without just asking him anyway."

Buffy said, "That's why he hadn't reversed the body swap spell when we found him? Because he can't?"

"Apparently."

"So," Xander said, "the spell is on Master-Bob, and Balador - the actual Master - can't reverse his spell because of his original spell to make himself impervious to magic? That about it?"

"Yes."

"Kind of ironic, isn't it?"