I don't own any characters from Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel, and this is my own FanFiction. I don't intend to copy anyone if they have done a similar storyline. Faith is one of my favourite characters even though I'm not putting her in a particularly good light, so don't think I'm having a go at her.

When Faith Lehane casts a Draconian Katra spell intending for her and Buffy to switch, Faith wakes up in Xander's body instead.

Xander Harris wakes up in Faith's body... does he want this to change? Does he want to stay in this sexy new body... do some experimenting ...

Or will Xander slowly turn into Faith as time goes by and the problem is not fixed to the Scoobies' more important drama?

Faith sat in a position, on her bed, so it looked like she was meditating. She spoke the Latin from the spell book laid out in front of her, though wincing to read some of it. Her reading skills were pretty limited in English... so to read out this language was even trickier a task. Hopefully this spell worked... you see, Faith's genius plan to switch her and Buffy's bodies (so she, the rightful one, would get the scoobies, the mother and the town whilst Buffy was struggling in Faith's murderous bitch of a body stuck in a cell with the Watcher's Council in England).

Faith's chuckle at this was not a kind, happy one. It sounded more like a... like a sigh. Everything was not five by five. Faith knew this, somewhere in her.

But not in her voice box.

Faith tried to read the Latin from the book.

Fiat... fiat v-volantuas? V-voluntas.. yeah, that's it. 'Kay.

Fiat volun-voluntas tua.

"Ah, fuck it. Nah.. I gotta do it"

Faith laughed again.

"Ahh, wish I could see the look on her face when she wakes up as me."

She turned to the small, cracked mirror next to her in her apartment. She picked it up with both hands and looked in her reflection. Heat began to rise up her body.

"That face... Fuckin' pile o' shit. You bitch. You're gonna die... you're gonna.. gonna..." Faith threw the mirror on the floor and watched the glass shatter. She began to melt down in tears, getting the poorly-washed sheets even wetter than they were. They were already wet with cum. Recently, she hadn't bothered to wash it out.

Nevertheless, she began to cuddle up to the sheets and the pillow. What else was she meant to hug? When she was younger she had enjoyed and loved the sweet, safe, protection of a hug. But now it was different. The feeling had gone from her memory and she hated hugs. She hated any intimacy other than the obvious one... where she could ride sexy men and women at a gallop until they begged her for more. She wasn't going to hug herself. She'd tried that one. She loved to masturbate, but hugging was far different. Nobody holds onto a psycho like her for dear life... but they might fuck her, sure.

Faith buried her head in the pillow, but immediately got up and wiped her tears with the back of her hand and a sniff. She leaned over the edge of the bed and peered at the shattered glass on the floor. She picked up one shard and began to cut the white skin on her left hand with it. She didn't mind the hurting. In fact, there was a thrill and attachment to the danger and the pain that she loved. She could even press harder because of her slayer strength. She watched the crimson blood trickle from her hand and the shard of glass and onto the bedsheets. She wondered what it was like to have a craving for that stuff. Faith wondered about the taste.

Huh. She thought. Psycho blood. Would psycho blood taste different... taste nice... taste bad?

So, with that, she leaned into her hand and licked the gleaming blood off of it. It tasted good. She devoured every last morsel, like she did to cum. It was delicious. She knew that that act was strange, but it was like drugs, an addiction. The red stain on her tongue was just a stain of herself. All of a sudden, she had forgotten the beauty of the taste and she was wiping it the blood off her tongue.

Eurghh, psycho blood...

Faith returned to her task of the Draconian Katra spell, and with a few frustrating stutters, managed to make the spell work.

Tomorrow, she thought, I won't be psycho. I'll be Buffy Summers. People will like me!

She let out a squeal.

She laughed, manically, and began to undress for her sleep. She hadn't slept for 9 days straight, and was incredibly exhausted, so she felt like sleep today. She took off her leather jacket and threw it on a pile on the floor, then her shirt, her pants and her socks and shoes. She went to the sink and washed off her makeup, refusing to look in the large mirror. She felt a sudden urge, however, to play with her body one last time before she was Blondie. She let down her luscious brown hair from the messy bun it was in, and began to feel her large breasts with her hands. She loosened her bra and began to sexy-dance to non-existent music. She removed her panties next. She was completely naked in her room, leaving her underwear lying about.

If Buffy in my body ever lives in here, better leave it a mess for her.

Her fingers-she-wouldn't-have-in-the-morning ran around her body. She massaged her breasts and felt around her face and full lips, no longer paying any attention to her appearance and psychotic-ness. She pulled at her ears and twisted her hair, then went back to rubbing her body like dough. The tip of her rather blunt nails sent a pleasant electric feeling through her entire body. They began to dig deep and she went back to her hand that was bleeding and sucked the blood up, licking her lips. It was no longer psycho blood to her. It was nothing. She was nothing. Nothing mattered. Her hands wandered down to her inner thighs and began to squeeze. She went inwards and inwards until she found the place she was looking for and, when she found her clit, she loudly moaned with ecstasy. Many people in the other apartments would hear her, the walls were extremely non-sound-proof. She let cum out right in her fingertips and rubbed it around her body. Her left hand was now a mixture of blood and cum. She devoured it all and bit her lip.

After she'd finished, after roughly rubbing her boobs and moaning, she began to get that surge of anger and depression and anxiety and all the emotions in one. She began to punch her pillow and throw it at the television. It was this surge that happened to her at all sorts of times. Kicking her bed while lying on it, she began to cry in insecurity again, burying her head in the pillow that was left there. She then stood up from her bed, stinking, dirty and very much naked, and kicked and punched and lunged at everything in sight. Her rickety wardrobe came tumbling down. The second mirror, the huge one on the wall above the sink, fell from its support.

Faith curled up in a naked ball on the hard floor and cried, adding to the liquid on her body. The blood, sweat, tears and discharge. She fell asleep soon after, muttering to herself and rocking back and forth:

I won't be you, I won't be you, I won't be you.

She began to slap her self, but was too tired to do any real damage.

"Urgh... bitch." She said before she slept.

This was Faith's life that the people in it never knew she had.

Xander Harris was still wide awake at this point, down in his basement. Anya was lying next to him as they talked about their Scooby business.

"What's the deal with this Floppy Disk guy, Ahn?" He asked, not expecting a good answer.

"Adam?" Anya said.

"Yeah, him. Ya know, what's he doin', what's his plan? Fill me in!" Xander said. He hasn't been to any of these Scooby meetings, just lying on his bed and pondering what he would do with his life. Was he just the guy who couldn't find a job and lived in his arguing parents dark and wet basement, would he always be the Zeppo?

"Well, I don't know, how am I meant to?" Anya said unhelpfully, pouting.

Xander lifted himself up, upright.

"What do you mean?!" Xander said, annoyed at the ex-demon.

"Well..." Anya began to circle Xander's chest with her forefinger as she spoke. "Well you shoulda been in the meetings," she pouted again. "I wasn't listening."

Xander rolled his eyes. Classic Anya.

"I love you." Anya said.

Xander had just laid back down when she said this.

He began sat upright again, very swiftly. Then, he began to babble.

"W-wuttt?" He spat out in a jumble of words. "I mean...you do? No, I mean I do... I um, I love you too Ahn. I really do."

He laid back down again. That was the first time someone had ever said that to him. Not his parents, not Cordy, certainly not himself. He gave a sigh of hapiness and cuddled up to his lover. Well, that was, before Anya's nightly insisting on the sex.

He had the great and loyal friends, and the happy, healthy relationship, and his cheeky humor that covered up all of his emotions. But if he wasn't so good at covering his emotions, he'd be crying all the time. But, maybe things were looking up.