A/N: This story is weird. Really weird. Revel in the weirdness of it. It is a crossover with a series called ‘Ranma ½’, but you don’t need to know anything about this series for now. The only thing I stole from it is Jyusenkyo, the ground of accursed springs…

Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy. I don’t own Spike *sniff* even though I would dearly love to. I don’t own Jyusenkyo (btw, am I spelling that right?). I don’t even own the funky spring man (yes, he really talks like that). So there!

Feedback: If you send me anything pertaining to this story, reviews, flames, anything at all, I will be your friend for life!

Distribution: Take it if you want it, just let me know.

Chapter One: In which they go to China, and become very wet.

“Explain it to me once more, Slayer; what are we doing in China?”

Buffy shot her un-asked for companion an irritated glance. “I’m here because of a request for help, and because the ‘request’ included plane fare and a giant reward if I kill the thing. I have no idea why you’re here.”

Spike shrugged, grinning. “C’mon, now, you didn’t think I’d let you run off to China all by yourself, did you? So, where we headed?”

Buffy studied her map as she replied. “Mt. Quanjing, Bayankala range, Quinghai province. At least, that’s where the informant spotted it. Could be miles from there by now, but I thought that was the best place to start.”

Spike shrugged. “Works for me. How much further? Sunup’s in a couple hours.”

“It shouldn’t take us that long, if we don’t get lost,” the slayer assured him. “Hmm. Now, was it this way or that way?”

“Ha, ha, real funny.” Spike growled. Ignoring him, Buffy pulled her backpack higher on her shoulders and marched onwards. The vampire, smirking slightly, followed her, never noticing the glowing eyes that watched them from the darkness.

* * * *

“So, this the place? Why all the springs?” Spike asked, peering curiously at their destination.

Buffy shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? All the informant said was that he spotted the thing somewhere around here.”

The vampire gazed around. “Well, I don’t see any- Whoa!” He was forced to break off and jump aside as what looked like a vaguely man-shaped piece of darkness leapt at him. He landed on the edge of one of the many pools, tottered for a moment in precarious balance, and then tumbled backwards with a tremendous SPLASH!

“Spike!” Buffy yelled, and then she was too busy defending herself to worry about her bleached-blonde companion. She dodged the thing’s first two strikes, skipping backwards slightly, and then lashed out. There was a satisfying howl, and then a splash. The Slayer smiled and straightened up…just as the bank of the spring she was standing on crumbled and she was plunged into dark, cold water.

When she surfaced, gasping for air, the first thing she noticed was that the world looked…different. Well, that wasn’t the first thing she noticed, because she was busy being cold and wet and dragging herself onto the bank of the spring. But almost immediately after that, the difference was apparent. Things looked lighter, for one thing, and also less colorful and considerably larger. Shaking off the oddness for the moment, she tried to call Spike’s name. Note the emphasis on tried.

“Meow?”

‘Meow?’ What the…she hadn’t meant to say that! Buffy gulped, then took a deep breath and tried again.

“MEOW!”

With a feeling of horror growing in her stomach, she gulped again and looked down. What she should have seen was, well, herself, but instead she saw creamy fur, and two brown paws. She moved one. Yep, definitely belonged to her. She repressed a hysterical urge to giggle, which brought her other reaction to the surface. She screamed- or rather, yowled- at the top of her lungs.

“YOOWWWWW!!!”

“Wuff?”

She was distracted by the sound, which came from quite close by and proved to have been made by a small black terrier who was engaged in dragging himself out of another spring. That is, he was black except for some longer hair on the top of his head, which had been dyed platinum blond and was plastered damply to his head and straggling over his ears, one of which seemed to be turned inside-out. It looked absolutely hilarious. At least, it would have, if Buffy hadn’t had a sneaking suspicion of just who the dog was. He shook himself, and looked down at his front.

“WUFF?!”

Suspicion (almost certainly) confirmed. The Slayer-turned-pussy stalked over, extended a claw, and scrawled, ‘Spike?’ in the sand. The terrier nodded, then looked at her sharply and with disbelief. ‘Buffy?’ he scribbled in return. She nodded. Spike started to ask, or rather, write, ‘What the hell happened?’ but since she probably had no more idea than he did, it would be a waste of sand. Instead he simply sat there, staring glumly at her. She stared back at him. This might have gone on for quite some time, if they hadn’t been distracted by a soft scrabbling noise from somewhere to their right. Both turned to look.

The noise was a mouse, climbing out of yet another spring. A black mouse. Cat and dog exchanged glances, then Buffy gave the cat equivalent of an evil grin and crept toward the damp rodent. Before it even knew she was there, it was caught under her paws, and Spike was trotting up to inspect it. They didn’t even need to write anything to come to a mutual conclusion. This had to be the former demon-thing. Before they could do anything to it, however, a voice spoke.

“You peoples! Very bad, fall in springs, yes? Very bad! Come with me, I fix you up.” The speaker was a small, stout man dressed in some kind of tour guide uniform.

Buffy and Spike exchanged wary glances, then Buffy shrugged and started to trot after the man. Spike barked pointedly, and she looked back. He jerked his head towards the stunned mouse, and she gave him a look which stated very plainly that she wasn’t going to carry that thing in her mouth. Sighing, Spike seized the formerly demonic mouse by the tail and jogged after her, not bothering to hold his head high enough for the rodent to avoid the ground.

The man led them to a small house, more of a hut really, and held the door open. Buffy stalked confidently inside, but Spike hesitated, not sure if his dog form needed an invitation or not. The Slayer meowed impatiently at him, so he shrugged and trotted easily inside. Apparently not.

The funny little man (overused but accurate, I assure you) moved to the stove, where he removed a kettle from its place over the old-fashioned wood fire. Carrying it carefully, he proceeded over to Buffy and abruptly poured it over her furry head.

“Hey!” she protested, and then realized that she had protested, and repeated herself in a very different tone. “Hey, I’m me again.” Then she looked down. “And I’m naked! Eeep!”

“Here, miss.” The funny man passed her some clothes; traditional Chinese-style baggy pants and a matching shirt. “First person cursed in long time leave these here. They fit you, yes?”

Buffy snatched them out of his hands and pulled them on rapidly, all too aware of Spike’s amused doggy eyes watching from only a few feet away. Luckily, the clothes were only a little too big. She hastily turned her back on Spike as the man applied the hot water to Jyusenkyo’s second victim.

“Bloody hell!” she heard, and then a growl. Not Spike’s growl. The demon! All thoughts of seeing naked Spike and being scarred for life fled, and she whirled to see the vampire holding a black, slimy-looking black demon at arm’s length.

“Oh, this not good at all,” the spring guide (this being his occupation) murmured.

“I’ll say it’s not,” Spike growled as Buffy punched at the thing, only to have her fist bounce off as if it were made of rubber. The impact continued, however, making Spike take a step backwards in order to keep his balance. In these few seconds, the spring guide had snatched up a bucket of water from a corner of the hut.

“Stand back, sir, miss!” he called. They both obeyed by reflex, diving to the side, and he tossed the water at the demon. In the instant that the liquid touched it, the demon vanished, leaving only a small, soaked mouse scrabbling desperately on the slippery floor. Spike snatched it up by the tail and shook it none too gently when it tried to double over and bite him.

“Here now, none of that.” He then turned to look at the guide. “Explain,” he growled. “What the hell is going on?!” The vampire did not seem at all concerned by the fact that he was still naked as a jaybird, although Buffy had taken one brief glance, blushed mightily, and looked determinedly in the other direction.

“This is Jyusenkyo, ground of accursed springs. Each spring have own tragic legend; you, sir, fall in spring of drowned small dog. There is legend, very tragic, of small dog who drown there one thousand seven hundred year ago. Now whoever fall in spring take body of same small dog. You, miss,” he turned to Buffy, “fall in spring of drowned cat. There is legend, tragic legend, of…”

“We get the picture,” Spike interrupted. “So how does it work? You fixed us, but that demon turned back into a mouse.”

“Ah, you very smart one, yes, sir? You see, after first fall in spring, cold water triggers curse, but hot water cure it.”

Buffy spoke for the first time, turning around to stare incredulously at the spring guide. “You mean we’re stuck like this forever?!”

“Unless you find cure, yes, and I know no cure.”

“Bloody hell,” Spike growled, and tossed the mouse at Buffy. She caught it by reflex, and the vampire headed outside.

“Where are you going?” she asked, juggling the violently inclined rodent and still avoiding looking at Spike.

“To get my clothes. You want yours as well?”

“Um, yes, please,” Buffy replied, distracted as she finally grabbed the demon-mouse in a position where it couldn’t bite her. A thought occurred to her as she looked around the hut, and she turned to the spring guide.

“Excuse me, but do you know how long it is until sunrise?”

The man shrugged. “Maybe one hour? Maybe less.”

Buffy frowned. That meant they were stuck here all day, unless…wait a minute, Spike-dog hadn’t needed an invitation to enter the hut, had he? Maybe that meant that as a dog, he didn’t have his vampire traits. It was worth a try. In the meantime, Spike reentered the house, with their wet clothes balled up under one arm and his jacket held carefully in front of him with the other hand. He was frowning, and still naked. Buffy fixed her eyes on a point in the corner, ignoring him and trying to keep from blushing again.

“Damn,” he growled. “It’s all waterlogged.” He shot a venomous glare at the spring guide. “If my duster ends up damaged, I’m taking out on your hide, understand?”

“Yes, sir. You stay here long? Sun up soon.”

Spike looked out the window at the still-dark sky, sighed, and closed the shutters. “Yeah, guess we’re stuck here ‘til sundown.”

The spring guide asked no questions about this odd remark, merely extended some clothes towards the vampire. “You want these, sir? Yours still wet.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He accepted the dark sleeveless shirt and leggings, pulling them on and grinning at Buffy’s back where she stood firmly staring into a corner. “You can look, Slayer. I’m decent.”

With a sigh of relief, Buffy turned back to the vampire. The clothes fit him surprisingly well, although the pants were a little baggy.

“Great. Now that that’s taken care of, what are we going to do?!”

“About being cursed?” Spike shrugged. “Don’t see as there’s much we can do. At least we got rid of the demon.”

“Yeah, we turned it into a mouse.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Like people are going to believe that.”

“We could always pour hot water over it…” Spike suggested, grinning wickedly.

Buffy sighed and buried her face in her hands.

* * *

Many long, frustrating hours later, the sun finally went down. Spike stalked out of the hut as soon as he could do so without scorching himself. Being stuck in a tiny space with the Slayer and a very annoying little man all day was not his idea of a good time, but he had refused to return to dog form and experiment with sunlight on the grounds that: a) Buffy might decide not to change him back, and b) “I don’t bloody want to, all right?!”. They had tried to ask the man about the springs, but he seemed to have a case of selective deafness; he didn’t hear anything they said about the springs whatsoever. On the plus side, he hadn’t asked any questions about them, either, not even when Spike ripped open a package of blood and downed it in front of him, with Buffy providing background sound effects such as “Eeeewww!” and “Bleaugh!” The demon mouse had been packed away in a box with a few air holes until they figured out something better to do with him, and aside from the excitement when they forced him in and he tried to bite Buffy, the day had been very boring and seemed to last about twice as long as normal.

Considering what happened next, maybe the vampire should have remained inside a few minutes longer.

A tiny figure dressed all in black and cackling wickedly shot into the clearing, rebounded off of Spike’s head, and darted away in a new direction, sending the vampire staggering. Before he could regain his balance, another equally small and wrinkled figure with flowing grey hair blew past, shouting, “Happosai! HENTAI!!” She, too, bounced off of Spike’s head to change direction before shooting into the forest and was gone a few seconds later. The damage, however, was already done. For the second time in twenty-four hours, the bleach-blond vampire overbalanced and descended with a splash into one of the springs of Jyusenkyo.

“Not again!” he yelled, as he descended, and then bobbed back up and let loose with a string of curse words that would have scorched the ears off a sailor. He stopped and blinked, however, when he realized that he could curse. He wasn’t a dog. But his voice sounded somehow…different. Higher. And he didn’t seem quite as tall as he should be.

The guide’s voice sounded in the night air as the vampire took stock of his slightly differently-shaped body. “Oh, too bad, sir. You fall in spring of…”

“BLOODY EFFIN’ HELL!!!”

“Drowned girl.”

A/N: Here we go again! Um, yeah. And it’s Jusenkyo, without the extra -y. I meant to bring everybody else into this chapter, but it turned into a Spike, Buffy, and Giles only thing. (not that kind of thing, you pervs!) I write short chapters. What can I say.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, except Girl Spike and Cat Buffy. Which, I guess, is something.

Summary: They go back home. Giles is surprised.

Chapter 2: In which they return to Sunnydale, and there is much cleaning of glasses.

A knock at the door startled Giles out of his half-doze, jerking his head up just before it dropped the short distance onto his desk. Blinking sleepily, he pushed his glasses back up his nose and went to answer it. He had offered to come pick Buffy up at the airport, but she had insisted that he stay there and had reassured him that she would come by as soon as her flight came in. Knowing this, he had waited up for her, at least, up until about an hour ago. It was now five o’clock, a.m., and the rain that had been only a drizzle when he had drifted off now pounded angrily at his windows.

“It’s about time…” he began as he dragged the door open, and then stopped. It wasn’t Buffy. Instead, a taller girl with short bleached hair and ice-blue eyes glared up at him from his doorstep. The cat on her shoulder dug its claws a little deeper into the black leather duster she was wearing, and the girl sighed and stepped inside, pushing Giles out of her way. Both of them were completely soaked.

“S’nice not to need an invitation,” she remarked cryptically, before striding towards the bathroom. Giles grabbed her arm.

“Hold on, young lady. What do you think you’re doing, barging in here at five o’clock in the morning?”

The girl (she was oddly familiar looking, now that he thought about it) sighed. “Look, Watcher, give me five minutes and you’ll have all the explanation you need and a good deal more’n you wanted.”

Giles blinked, then blinked again. “How did you know I was a Watcher?”

“Lucky guess,” the girl drawled sarcastically. That accent was really annoying, especially since it was exactly the same as…Giles almost went cross-eyed as it suddenly clicked. He whipped his glasses off and peered closely at the girl. Short, bleach-blond hair, British, blue-eyed, wearing baggy black jeans and a black t-shirt under a duster that was very familiar indeed…the girl quirked a scarred eyebrow at him and his last doubt faded.

“Spike?!” he gasped, and polished his glasses hard for a moment before jamming them back on and staring.

“The one and only,” Spike agreed, grinning, and then wincing as the cat meowed impatiently and dug her claws in again. “All right, all right, I’m going! Bloody impatient Slayer.”

“Where is Buffy?” Giles asked. Spike jerked her thumb at the cat perched on her shoulder. Giles stared in growing, horrified realization, and reached for his glasses again.

“Buffy?” The strangled exclamation was answered by the cat herself, who sighed and nodded, an eerily human gesture. “How…what…?”

Spike cut him off. “We’ll tell you everything, just give me a sec, okay?” With that, she proceeded to the bathroom, Buffy the cat still clinging with ease to her shoulder.

Giles sunk dazedly into a chair and pulled off his glasses again as the water came on in the bathroom. There was a splash, a sigh, and the sound of a door shutting firmly. A moment later Spike, still female, reappeared and sprawled bonelessly across Giles’ couch.

“Where’s Buffy?” the former Watcher asked, noticing the absence of cat.

“In the bathroom,” Spike replied, sighing. “She takes an age, and she won’t let me use the water ‘til she’s done.”

“She…she can…be turned back?”

“Yeah,” Spike answered. “Both of us can, thanks for your concern,” sarcastically, then, “She’ll be…”

“I’m done!”

“Out in a minute,” Spike finished, as Buffy reentered, completely normal and toweling her hair dry, dressed in jeans and a tank top. “Good, you can explain to Rupert. I’ll go change.”

“How did…what…Buffy, what’s going on??” Giles sounded plaintive, and Buffy grinned a little as she settled herself in Spike’s vacated spot.

“Well, it’s kind’ve a long story…”

“We went to China, we fell in some springs, we got cursed.” Spike’s voice echoed from the bathroom. There was a splash. “Much better.” The voice had moved from the soprano range back into its more familiar baritone octave.

“Okay, maybe not that long,” Buffy sighed.

“That’s hardly enough information,” Giles informed her, beginning to regain his usual equilibrium. “I need some details, please.”

“All right,” Buffy began, taking a deep breath. “It all started when…”

* * *

“…so we caught our flight, and just when we got back, it started to pour. Our luck seems to run that way lately. Maybe the curse attracts water, or something? Anyway, we couldn’t make it back without getting soaked, so we changed and walked here. Or, Spike walked, and carried me.”

There was silence for a while, except the rustle of cloth as Giles’ spectacles were subjected to the most rigorous cleaning of their existence so far. The pause was broken by a snap, and then a clatter. Giles started, seeming to come back to himself; Spike proffered the popped-out lens of the other man’s glasses with a smirk.

“Knew that was gonna happen eventually. So, any questions, comments, exclamations?”

“I…um, I think I understand,” the former Watcher stammered, accepting the frameless glass distractedly. “So, anytime you get wet, your curses, um, activate. Hot water reverses the effect, but only until the next time. Correct?”

“Spot on.” Spike seemed to be relaxed and enjoying Rupert’s discomfiture, but in reality he was as tense as a coiled spring. If the Watcher himself didn’t know about those springs, then…well, he had better be prepared to spend some time in the opposite sex’s skin. Literally.

“So,” Buffy broke in, trying not to sound too desperate. “Do you know anything about a cure for this?”

“I’m afraid not,” Giles sighed. “Jusenkyo has always been regarded as pure fiction, and there are no tales of any of the cursed victims ever reversing or curing the, um, effects.”

“Bloody hell!” Spike shot to his feet, unable to contain himself any longer. “You mean we’re going to be stuck like this forever?!”

“At least you can still talk and stuff!” Buffy reminded him. “I turn into a stupid cat! I’m gonna be the laughingstock of the demon world once this gets out!”

“I suggest you keep it a secret as long as you can,” Giles answered mildly. He supposed he was still in shock, but he could lose control later. This would definitely call for some serious drinking when he was alone. In the mean time, he might as well indulge in academics. “Spike, you said you didn’t need an invitation to enter my house. Why?”

“Simple,” the vampire answered, calming back down a little and re-settling himself on Giles’ couch. “When I’m female, I’m completely human.”

“Completely?” Spike smiled inwardly as Giles leaned forward, eyes intent. That had gotten his attention.

“Yeah. As far as I can figure, at least. Sunlight doesn’t burn me, neither do crosses or any of that lot. If I eat human food while I’m a girl, it fills me up, but I get hungry again as soon as I change back. Same vice-versa; guess the two different bodies have different stomachs or something. Don’t have my proper strength, either.”

“I see. Fascinating.” He turned his bespectacled gaze back to Buffy. “If you knew where the spring of the drowned girl was, why didn’t you jump in there? Even if it turned you into a normal girl, without your Slayer strength, I should have thought it would still be better that becoming an, um, feline.”

Buffy made a face. “I’d like to say it was my considered opinion, blah, blah, but the truth is that by the time Spike calmed down enough for me to think of that we’d forgotten which spring it was. They all looked pretty much the same, you know. The tour guide dude wasn’t about to tell us, either.”

“Stupid git,” Spike growled. “I still say we should’ve just thrown him in all the springs until we found the proper ones to change us back.”

Buffy sighed. “No, Spike. There must have been over a hundred springs there, it would have taken forever.” Seeing the look in Giles’ eye, she added quickly, “Plus, um, it would be wrong.” She smiled brightly and innocently at her former Watcher. Spike rolled his eyes. Ignoring him, the Slayer continued. “Well, if you don’t know the cure, I guess I should go home. Is it still raining?”

There was a moment of busy, listening silence, but only for a moment. The sound of the rain was loud and steady on the roof, and water still streamed down the window’s of Giles’ house. Buffy sighed and buried her head in her hands.

“Shoot. I really don’t want to walk home, as a cat, in the rain, at five o’clock in the morning. How am I supposed to get in the house if I don’t even have hands?”

“You could borrow an umbrella,” Giles offered. “If you don’t actually come in contact with water, you shouldn’t trigger the curse.”

She smiled lopsidedly at him. “Thanks, Giles. Spike?”

“What?” Rather warily; Buffy normally paid him no attention at all.

“You headed back to your crypt?”

“Yeah, I guess…” But reluctance was plain in his voice and demeanor as he stood, and Giles gave in to the inevitable with a sigh.

“Very well. You may spend the night here, at least until it stops raining.”

Normally this would have triggered a round of manly bluffing and phrases like, “Hey, I never asked to stay here. I was gonna leave.” and the long-suffering, “Of course, Spike.” It was a measure of how much Spike disliked the prospect of being a helpless mortal girl that he only reseated himself on the couch with a smirk and a, “Ta, Watcher,” pretending it had been his aim all along.

“I guess I’ll head home, then. See you in the morning, Giles. Good thing it’s Saturday tomorrow; I’ll probly be out like a light until noon.” Without so much as a “Goodbye, evil dead,” she snagged an umbrella from its position next to the door, opened it, and ventured out to face the storm. Giles headed off to bed with a hearty yawn and a goodnight to Spike, who lay on the couch and fidgeted, listening to the rain drumming hard and heavy and gray on the roof.