Disclaimer: The Character of Buffy the Vampire Slayer do not belong to me. They are the property of Joss Whedon ad the WB. I'm just borrowing them while I have a little fun of my own. I promise to return them, unscathed (I hope) when I'm done.

Angel had had enough. He'd been poked and prodded. He'd been undressed and dressed once again. He'd had to repeatedly rebuff the advances of a tall, raven-haired salesgirl who didn't believe Buffy's threats to do her bodily harm, and a blond-haired man who said he'd gladly accept any pain Buffy cared to give him, as long as the three of them were together. He'd been attacked by Buffy in the small confines of a fitting room. Well, he couldn't complain much about that one, but it had been tiring. He hadn't twisted himself into those positions in a very long time, and Buffy displayed a few tricks that assured him that Giles really had no idea how limber his Slayer was.

Fun times with Buffy aside, the other stuff was getting to him. He was sick of being propositioned. He was sick of smiling salespeople. He was sick of trying on clothes. And he wasn't going to do it anymore.

Grabbing Buffy's arm, he pulled her over to a nearby bench and sat down. Buffy had a little trouble, but once she'd set down her armful of packages she joined him.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked staring at him in confusion. "We're just getting started. I'm in a groove. Isn't this fun?"

Angel shuddered at the excitement in her voice. "No," he answered her. "It's not fun. Buffy, we've been to almost every store in this place. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I want to go home."

Buffy ignored the petulant look he was giving her and stood up. "No more complaining," she said firmly. "We'll go to the food court, I'll buy you a burger, rare. Then we'll hit the stores we missed and then we'll go home."

Angel frowned. "I am not leaving this spot, Buffy," he stated. "And I don't want a burger, however rare it is." I want to suck every last drop of your shopping crazy blood, he thought murderously.

Buffy closed her eyes and counted to ten. That didn't work so she counted again. When she was reasonably calm she withdrew a stake from some hidden spot and waved it in front of Angel. He looked at it, then back up at Buffy and smiled warily.

"Do *not* make me dust you," she demanded, her eyes cold. Angel nodded, clearly believing she would. Satisfied that he got her point, she replaced the stake and grabbed some bags. "Now, get up, follow me, and do not coomplain again. Understand?"

Angel smiled at the Slayer and nodded. "I understand." He stood up, picked up the remaining bags, and followed Buffy as she walked away. "I'm still hungry though," he grumbled, wondering when he'd turned into such a wimp. It wasn't like he couldn't take her.

Buffy sighed. "Fine," she said, giving in. "When we're done we'll swing back by the Gap aand you can drain the brunette that was eyeing you. After that surprise she'll never mess with me again." Buffy wakled purposely toward a store chatting nonstop about what they still had to buy.

Angel affected a sigh, following her reluctantly, and looked at his watch. To his dismay the time was only 10:00. Two more hours of shopping to go. As Buffy walked into a store, giving all the salesgirls her pre-staking stare, he groaned.

"Hell is starting to look pretty good," he muttered to himself. He watched as Buffy pulled a lime green and orange knit shirt and matching pants from the rack and eyed it appreciatively. "As a matter-of-fact, I'm really wishing they'd send me there now."

Buffy motioned him over, thrusting the outfit at him. "Try it on and we'll see how you look in green."

He grabbed the hanger and stalked toward the fitting room, promising painful, bloody revenge on his favorite little Slayer. Buffy watched him go before turning back to the rack. Picking up a shirt, she wondered if Giles would look better in mauve or fuschia.

The End