Chapter Six


Spike’s slightly twisted understanding had helped Buffy get over her “mini strip-tease”, and she was incredibly grateful to him. Though, she wasn’t sure if she really considered his idea of ‘turn-about is fair play’ a good one. But, it was the thought that counted…and, umm, another certain area. She would have to—

Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak

Buffy growled at the offending sound that had interrupted her thoughts. “Stupid cart! Why is it that every time I come to Wal-Mart, out of the one hundred plus carts they have, I get the one that pulls to the right and the wheel squeaks?!”

Spike simply raised an eyebrow at her. “Every time you come to Wal-mart?” He questioned.

The cart jerked suddenly to a stop before Buffy caught herself and pushed it forward, regaining her composure so lightening quick that it was almost as if she had never lost it. After all, she had been a queen bee long before becoming a slayer, and if anyone could mask a slip of the tongue it was her. “No, I don’t shop at Wal-mart.” The offending store name was caught on her tongue like curdled milk, making her distaste clearly known. “However I do seem cursed with the squeaky cart curse.”

“Cursed with a curse?” Spike questioned, not looking at her but at the harshly lighted shelves displaying an abundant amount of products that he couldn’t imagine anyone needing. Buffy bobbed her head once and went about throwing a blanket into the squeaking cart. “How come I don’t remember this being an issue before? This ‘squeaky cart’ thing? I’ve been grocery shopping with you before, don’t remember there being any mice in the wheels then.” He didn’t mean to push; his voice was calm, just casually making conversation, filling the awkward tension with words to soften its impact.

Buffy turned down another aisle, standing at her full five foot three inches to carefully examine the upper shelves as she passed. “That’s because you don’t pay attention. “ She informed him a bit too casually, baiting him. “Like that time you left the crossbow out when Dawn had friends over.” She shrugged, eyes wide and innocent, looking at him like there was nothing she could do about his constant absentmindedness.

“That was not my fault!” Spike huffed defensively. “Girl should have known better than to mess with dangerous weapons! She could have shot her eye out.”

“Hmm, let’s think about this, shall we?” Buffy said saucily. “Dawn with friends over, plus being a hormonal teenager, equals showing off with said crossbow and inflicting possible eye injuries.”

Spike was thinking of a good response to her sarcasm, when he noticed a strange look on Buffy’s face; almost as if she was laughing at him with a straight face…if such a thing was possible. “What?” He said defensively.

Buffy tilted her head, eyes contemplating the vampire in front of her. “Having a ‘Christmas Story’ moment?”

“What?” Whatever he had been expecting from the petite brunette, it hadn’t been that.

“You know the one. They show it every Christmas.”

“Could’ve sussed that out from the title. Which one? Last time I checked there were billions of those goody feeling sappy ‘yes I believe in Santa’ holiday films out there.” Spike walked along side of Buffy, his stride shortening to match in perfect time with hers. “And they all suck I might add.”

“So that wasn’t you tearing up during ‘Prancer’ last year?”

“No.” He answered quickly. “So what about this movie?”

Buffy ducked her head slightly to hide the smile. “It’s about a little boy who wants a rifle for Christmas and everyone keeps saying ‘You’ll shoot your eye out’.”

Spike soaked that in for a moment, mind befuddled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Buffy stared straight ahead at the board games looming in the distance as if they might hold the answer. “Honestly? I have no idea. We were talking about ‘Prancer’…” She tried to retrace her mental footsteps.

“No, we weren’t.”

“And then there was the crossbow incident…”

Spike leaned against the high shelves, legs and mind suddenly exhausted. Whatever little bit of spark he had been able to put into this shopping excursion was slipping. “Still not my fault.”

“Oh! I remember.” Buffy snapped her fingers and then closed her mouth and went back to shopping.

“Wait.” Spike trailed after her as she pushed the cart. “What was that? Care to share that revelation with the whole class?”

“Nope.” Buffy answered popping her ‘p’. “And I think you’ve had enough ‘revelations’ for one day.”

Spike stepped closer to her, his duster grazing against her back. Buffy stiffened and stopped, that smell of leather, whiskey, and tobacco that always clung to him washing over her. She could feel his eyes on her, burning her flesh and drinking her in, she kept her face perfectly still, a painting never to give anything away. His voice was low as his words danced perilously close to her ear. “Not nearly enough in my opinion. Should we have another gander?”

He brought his hand up and quickly snaked it over her shoulder, but not fast enough as Buffy smacked his hand. “Stop it, Spike! You’re a pig!”

Wrapping his tongue around his front teeth, he gave her a rakish grin. “And you love it, baby.”

Buffy struggled not to roll her eyes. “What is with you anyway? One second you look ready to crash and now you are all wired?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Did you get into the sugar again? Because we’ve talked about that.”

Seeing Buffy with her whole school teacher attitude was too adorable, but the perked up mood swing was very short lived. It wouldn’t do any good to arise any slayer suspicions; he would figure a way to feed somehow. For now the job was to keep Buffy happy. “I’m fine.” He answered, shaking his head slightly. “Think I’m still a bit knackered is all.”

Buffy winced, feeling guilty. It was her fault he wasn’t sleeping. Waking him up all the time with her nightmares, her wants, her needs…

Spike touched her hair softly, fingering a dark brown curl, drawing her into his gaze. “It’s not your fault, pet.” He said sincerely, as though reading her thoughts.

Her eyes were a big pool of liquid green, wide open and vulnerable. She was the slayer, and she had failed everyone that mattered to her. She didn’t know if she could bear it if she failed Spike too.

Biting her lip, she smiled at him. “Okay, let’s shop.”

“I thought that’s what we have been doing…” Spike gestured to the half filled cart.

“Shut up.” Buffy snapped back with a hidden grin.

Spike followed, knowing the issue had not been resolved; they never were with her. When Buffy shut you out, that was it. He would just have to bide his time until she let him in again. “You’re wish is my command.”

*****

"Watch your step." Janice instructed Dawn as they walked carefully around a hole in the floor.

"That looks dangerous." Dawn pointed out at the gapping hole that was in the middle of the third floor hallway allowing her a view at the second floor. Dawn had expected Janice to be staying in a bit of a dump, but this was even below her expectations. The apartment’s elevator was broken, forcing the two girls to hike up three flights of stairs and move down narrow corridors where yellow tinted lights flickered on and off with a buzz at will.

"It is." Janice nodded, fumbling for her keys in her bag. "I wish I had a nickel for every time I sprained my ankle because of that stupid thing."

"Oh don't do that!" Dawn replied hurriedly, as she quickened her pace and stopped standing unnecessarily close to Janice, shoulders hunched and eyes roaming for danger.

"Do what?"

"Make wishes. They can turn out really, really badly. And sometimes you might meet someone, and they might wanna talk, and if you say-" Dawn caught herself mid-babble. This was unfamiliar territory. Sure, Dawn had been in school with kids who either didn't know the truth about the real world or turned a blind eye to it, but all those closest to her knew long before she did. Buffy, Willow, Xander, her mom, even Spike, they were her inner circle. And since leaving Sunnydale things had changed. Buffy patrolled, but whether it was to stake vampires or to feel more proactive about their situation, Dawn could never tell. Sunnydale baddies were different... they were, well... badder than the local variety and Dawn could easily play normal. But here she was with a former Sunnydale Alum, someone, who might know, but might as easily not. It was worrisome to say the least. "Well, just take my advice. The 'W' word is not a safe thing."

Janice stood, doorknob in hand, with a slightly freaked expression painted on her pale features. "You're kinda strange." She informed her former friend, pushing the door open with a bit of a struggle. "Welcome to Casa el Janice."

"That would be Casa de Janice-" Dawn start to explain before stopping as she got her first glimpse of the apartment. If there was ever a case of don't judge a book by its cover this was it. The outside of Janice's apartment might have been trash but the inside was nothing less than glorious.

"I skipped out on most of Spanish." Janice replied, taking dawn's bag from her shoulder and tossing it on to the leather sectional sofa. "Sue me."

Dawn just nodded wordlessly soaking in the apartment. A black leather sectional sofa took up most of the living room, contrasting sharply with the white untouched walls, heavy long red drapes lined the windows and for a brief moment Dawn though how perfect they would be for Spike, no sun would ever get past them. They were drawn tight and the decaying neighborhood was tucked nicely out of site. A Big screen TV sat in one corner with an impressive DVD library to the right and speakers were positioned throughout the room.

There was a kitchen directly off the main room, cramped and small with faded yellow titling that was cracked in places and screamed 70's, The few appliances seemed old and starkly out of place with the rest of the apartment. There was a dining room table, perched unusually high with dark mahogany chairs that Dawn was sure would cause her legs to dangle ever so slightly. There were roses on the table, dark and almost violent looking and also personal items, cigarettes and magazines. But despite these few items the place didn't feel lived in.

"So I what do you think?" Janice prompted from behind Dawn, startling her.

"It's- It's amazing really." She answered honestly.

"Thanks." Janice beamed. She had a fierce love of complements and would resort to any lows to receive them.

Dawn clenched and unclenched her hands nervously. It was all almost too good to be true. And Buffy had securely drilled into her head the idea that if it was too good to be true it usually was. "Are you sure you don't mind me staying here?"

"Well..." Janice replied slowly drawling out her 'L's and letting her crimson painted fingernails drag softly across the leather. "I don't mind but there is something you need to do for me first."


*****

Now that Buffy had been reassured and was again distracted for the moment, Spike mentally relaxed. His girl was taken care of for now, and he was tired.

She will never be ‘your girl’.

Spike’s eyes snapped open from where he had been leaning against the cart. The thought was unwelcome and sounded strangely like…but no, that was impossible. He shook his head for what felt like the millionth time that night, and tried to pull himself together.

“Okay, Spike. I’ve got all the bathroom stuff I need, we should probably go look for food now.” Buffy said as she dropped deodorant, shampoo, and various other items into the cart.

Spike was about to answer her, when a smallish pink box caught his eye. It was obvious that Buffy had taken great pains to hide it from him, because it was stuffed in the back of the cart in the corner. Curious, he fished it out before Buffy could stop him.

“What’s this, then? Some kind of—” He stopped as he read the box. Unable to help himself, he burst out laughing. “Super-plus tampons?!” He choked out. “Why Buffy, I never knew!” The image of her trying to use one of those things was even funnier, and he doubled over.

Buffy’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head, a fierce blush creeping over her cheeks. She slapped a hand over his mouth before hissing “What is wrong with you?! The whole store—” With a yelp, she pulled her hand back. “Did you just lick me?”

Spike smiled, he was feeling good, brave even. Time for the slayer to stop pretending she didn’t feel anything from his touch. If he had his way, she’d be writhing underneath him, begging him to never stop. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to him.

“Spike! What the hell are you doing?!” Buffy squeaked.

“You know, if you have that much of a problem with—” He tossed the box on a nearby shelf. “This sort of thing, I’d be glad to help out.”

He brought his face down close to hers and for a moment, Buffy thought he meant to kiss her. At the last second, he turned his head to whisper in her ear. She didn’t know if she felt relieved or disappointed.

“I could just…” He ran his tongue under her earlobe, emphasizing his point.

Buffy shivered from his touch, making Spike smile against her neck. Pictures of his head between her legs danced across her vision, making her suck in a shaky breath. Snapping out of her illicit fantasy, she pulled out of his embrace. “You are such a pig!” She spat. Never breaking eye-contact with him, she purposefully grabbed the tampons and placed them back in the cart. Then, calmly, as if the whole episode had never happened, she said “Now, let’s go get some food.” She walked off, not caring if he followed or not.

He snickered, wondering if she’d forgotten that he could smell her arousal a mile away. Oh, yeah, she wanted him. Now it was just a matter of time. Spike was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t see that Buffy had stopped directly in front of him, back turned, until it was too late.

“Ooofffh!” She grunted. “Jeez, Spike! Clumsy much?!” Buffy snapped, wincing at the pain in her stomach from being rammed into the cart’s handle.

Spike giggled, not answering her. Instead he walked past her and grabbed a hoola-hoop off of a display in the middle of the aisle. ‘Let her see how sexy I am.’ He thought to himself.

Putting the bright pink monstrosity around his waist, he began trying to wiggle his hips in an effort to keep the thing up.

“Hello there, Buffy!” He said in a high-pitched voice. “I’m Barbie, and I can hoola!”

Buffy stared at him, trying to move his hips and keep the hoop from falling. “Umm…Spike? You okay there?” She asked, unsure about his strange mood swing.

Spike cursed and threw the toy down the aisle. “Damn thing is broken!” He laughed as it hit some lady’s foot causing her to trip.

Buffy grabbed his arm, pulling him rapidly to the food aisles. “I don’t know what has gotten into you, but it stops NOW.” She almost growled at him, the threat clear in her voice.

“Now, Gary, is that anyway to show your Christmas spirit?” Spike said in a nasally voice. “Meow!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Buffy yelled, forgetting they were in the middle of the store.

Spike snickered, and pointed to a Spongebob Squarepants cookie display behind her.

Buffy struggled with the effort not to roll her eyes. "You're crazy, you know that right? I mean, really, just this side of Charles Manson or Martha Stewart."

"Martha Stewart?"

"The woman irons her jeans and only sleeps four hours a night with the light on. If that doesn't get you a cuckoo stamp I don't know what does." Buffy grabbed a bag of potato chips from the nearest shelf and ripped it open, setting it down in the front of her cart and started nibbling on a few.

"You eat that junk, yet I'm crazy?" Spike teased, an uncomfortable throbbing behind his eye making the world seem far and distant.

Buffy rolled her eyes, reaching up and snagging the last box of Wheatabix and handing them to her companion. "You eat pig’s blood and those. Need I say more? Out of the two of us here you are definitely front runner for crazy town."

A rustle of skirts along with the scent of beauty wrapped in misery made Spike turn sharply, but nothing was there, opening the box he had to agree. "You've got a point..."


*****


"Me?" Dawn squeaked backing up until she bumped into the wall behind her. "What can I do for you?"

"Whoa!" Janice backed up a pace from an obvious jumpy Dawn. "Do a case of Red Bull?"

"Huh?"

Janice found the remote and clicked on the TV making the tension in the room dissipate as pop music stars gyrated their way onto MTV. "You're jumpy."

Dawn felt suddenly foolish about her initial reaction and mentally cursed her sister for making her so paranoid. "Sleep deprivation. So..." Dawn waited a beat, struggling for nonchalant as Janice plopped herself down on the leather sofa and kicked off her 4-inch heels. "What was it that you wanted me to do for you?"

Janice turned to her former friend and surveyed her with a glance that missed nothing. "Cut your hair." She finally concluded. "Or at least dye it. Of course to be on the safe side we should do both."

"My-my hair?" Dawn repeated dumbly, sweeping her long locks to the side and twisting her hands around them.

"Yeah." Janice nodded. "Maybe bleach it..."

"Bleach? My hair? Buffy does that sort of thing, not me."

Janice smiled softly at Dawn's reaction. Even though they were only a few months apart in age, Janice felt a hundred years older. Her sorta life did that to people. And she looked at Dawn as a younger sister, someone who needed to be slowly taught how the world worked, how her world worked. "Well, big sis was on to something in that department.” Janice smirked, remembering the unusually strong blonde. “Hair is the first thing people notice. If your sister starts to send out feelers it will be the easiest way to recognize you. So you'll wanna mix it up, besides you've had that same look since you first moved to Sunnydale."

Janice rose from off the couch and stood in front of Dawn, running her long slender fingers through her mane looking at different lengths. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to see what length looks best with your face shape." Janice answered matter-of-factly, hands still playing with Dawn's hair.

Dawn shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot. What Janice was saying made a lot of sense but still... She liked her hair. "Shouldn't I be involved in this? Or at least a mirror?"

Janice stepped back and picked up her heels, sliding them on her feet. "Don't have one."

Dawn looked at Janice's painted lips and dark mascara coated eyelashes, no way someone who wore that much makeup didn't have a mirror. "Then how do you put on your makeup?"

"Practice." Janice replied, simply, grabbing Dawn's arm she led her for the door.

"Where are we going?" Dawn asked, nearly tripping over her feet.

"To Manx's. He's one of the best unknown colorists in the world, if anyone can fix your hair, he can."

"Now? But it's so late."

Janice smiled. "Don't worry I'm a night owl. And so is he. And if you hang around here long enough, you'll be one too."


*****

Spike’s migraine had gone from bad to worse, and with it his paranoia for Buffy’s safety began to increase. The effort not to weave down the aisles was staggering, and the endless stream of items Buffy was showing him began to make his vision waver.

“Spike?” Buffy was saying. “What do you think of this one? I’m not sure about the color.”

He forced himself to look at the seventh shirt she had held up for his inspection. “Umm…it’s green.” He said baffled. He was having a hard time concentrating. A flash of long dark brown hair caught his eye, and he swore he could almost hear that eerie crooning…

“No, it's orange."

"What?" Spike questioned, mind weary. "It is?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Sarcasm, Spike." She watched as he shook his head as if trying to rid his mind of some horrible thought. Something was clearly up with him. She could have questioned him about it but it was much simpler to pretend she didn't notice. Just to be a girl out shopping. The weight of worries were already a millstone around her neck, she couldn't bear to add more to it. "So what do you think?" Buffy wriggled the shirt in front of it, the fabric dancing in the harsh fluorescent light, the arms looking like snakes. " Does it go with my hair or is it too light?”

“Umm... Your eyes are green." He answered stupidly, eyes scanning above Buffy's head for danger.

"Sorta already knew that." Buffy informed him, checking her appearance once more in the mirror as she held the shirt against her body. The brown hair was shocking yet not, almost as if she had unearthed someone within her, someone always there but never seen. She wondered what Dawn would say when she saw her. There was a nagging voice that tact 'if' on but Buffy swatted it away focusing on the shirt, pretending away everything else. "So should I get it or did you like the pink better?" She rummaged in the cart and pulled up a pink tank top.

“You look nice in pink.” He replied automatically not even looking at her but scanning out the area. His heart and head weren’t really in shopping at the moment. And what did it matter anyway? Buffy would look amazing even in a burlap sack.

Buffy stepped directly in front of his eye line. “You’re doing that on purpose right?”

“Doing what?”

“Driving me nuts with the non answers. That is not what you are supposed to do when you take a girl shopping. You are supposed to say ‘I like that one the most’ not go ho hum!”

“I didn’t take you shopping! You dragged me here-“ He began, when a sudden thought hit him. She had asked his opinion on every single thing she had picked up so far. “Why do you care what I think of your clothes, anyways?” He asked.

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise, complex questions running through her mind. Why did she care what Spike thought? Did she like Spike admiring her? No! Well, maybe….And that was okay wasn’t it? She would have cared what Willow thought, or even Xander. She supposed Spike was on that list of friends now. But Spike a friend? That didn’t sound right.

“I don’t.” Buffy snapped as she turned away, standing at the cart and sorting out the items.

Spike could almost sense the lie under her too quick response. “Then what’s with the fashion show?”

“I was just trying to make you feel included because that’s what girls do when they drag their boyfriends shopping so they don’t have to just stand there like idiots. Ya know what? I don't care what you think! I’ll never care what you think, Spike.”

Spike was in shock, total shock. When the words finally registered in his brain, he melted, his hope flaring stronger than ever. He opened his mouth to reply. “Boyfriend?”

“What?” Buffy turned around, annoyed.

“You just said girls take their boyfriends…”

Cursing herself for the slip she quickly stole the wind from Spike’s sails. “I was talking in general, Spike. Read much into thing?”

“Spike…” A voice called across the harshly lit store, a voice Spike would know anywhere. He turned his head, familiar feelings and the new sensation of fear coursed within him. Before she never posed a threat, bedsides to his already battered heart, before Buffy didn’t matter. Buffy wasn’t his life then. She was now.

He took a step forward, his mind clouded but his objective clear; keep Buffy safe. He spoke in more of a growl than words. “Dru.”

 

Chapter Seven


"Dru." Spike's voice cut through the relatively empty store like a knife.

Buffy silently followed his eyeline over the top of her head. She spun, her body tensed and muscles coiled, ready to spring into battle. Two years on the run had not made her lenient about her training, quite the opposite. She didn't patrol nightly like Dawn and Spike thought, she hunted. She pushed her body further and faster, eliminating her foes and stalking those that dared not show their faces until her muscles burned and nausea settled in. And when Buffy returned to the apartment after quietly retching into some bushes, she would often cry herself to sleep. The tears weren't a product of the pain that coursed throughout her body or the lingering nausea in her stomach; it was because it wasn't enough. When Glory came it wouldn't be enough. And despite Spike's often repeated vow that they could run forever and never be found Buffy knew the truth. One day the other shoe would drop; it had to.

So when Buffy heard that name, familiar and dangerous, she leapt into action, her body a deadly weapon. As she turned she grabbed the stake tucked into her back waistband with liquid lightning fast reflexes and plunged it forward, straight into air? "What?" Buffy questioned her foe, which was only a rack of shirts. Stake still in hand and eyes surveying the horizon for danger she spoke to companion. "Spike, what happened?"

Spike stood under the harsh fluorescent lights causing him to appear paler than usual. His hands were balled into useless fists at his sides and his eyes were wild with confusion. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't force the words out. How was he to explain what he didn't comprehend?

"Spike?" Buffy implored, still in a fighting stance, stake securely in her hand, tiny splinters pressing into her palm. "What's going on?"


*****


Janice hurried down the darkened street, pulling Dawn along behind her. Dawn’s eyes were frantically darting around, constantly in search of danger. Janice could feel the tensed muscles under her thin sleeve, and inwardly gulped. Though she may have put a brave front on earlier, she was secretly afraid of the aura of power Dawn seemed to unknowingly carry with her. She was glad she was a friend and not a threat. Janice had already been on that side of the fence, and she didn’t relish the idea of going back.

Dawn shivered, not so much from the cool night air, as from the hand gripping her arm. “Jeez, your hands are freezing!” She complained, pulling her arm away. She eyed the tiny shirt her friend was wearing. “Don’t you ever wear a jacket?”

Janice stopped and rolled her eyes. “Don’t have one.” She said simply.

“Aren’t you cold?” Dawn said incredulously.

“Not really. I don’t really notice the weather anymore…not since Sunnydale.” She grabbed Dawn’s arm again and resumed her break-neck pace.

“Strong grip you got there.” Dawn muttered under her breath, trying her best to keep up.





*****


"Spike?" Buffy pleaded again, her body alert but eyes seeing nothing that posed a threat. "Where is she?"

For a moment his mind went hazy and Buffy's voice sounded distant and soft. He turned to look at Buffy and blinked hard. Red cloaked her, the heat and blood flowing beneath shinning through almost translucent skin, calling to him. He took a step forward body shaking as a voice whispered in his ear encouraged him. "Feed. Take her."

"No!" Spike cried forcefully, hanging on to shredded willpower by the tips of his fingers.

"No?" Buffy asked, eyes narrowing. "You're not gonna tell me where she is? Spike! This is Drusilla we are talking about! She could hurt a lot of people! Don't you even care to at least find out why she is here?"

The voice closed in behind him, soft drawn-out vowels and harsh quick consonants. “If you do not finish your supper, you shall have no cakes. Be a good boy and eat for Mommy."

Buffy with one last 360 glance loosened her grip on her stake and slowly approached a visibly trembling Spike. Her steps were slow and cautious as if she were trying to touch a wild animal. Spike drew back slightly as she stood in front of him, his head shaking no. "Spike? Are you okay?"

Spike didn't need to answer. It was crystal clear that he most definitely was not okay. His nails were cutting crescent moons into the flesh of his tightly balled fists. Buffy was standing closer now, so close he could feel the heat radiating off of her. He waited for the voice to return to taunt him, to tempt him but it didn't return, almost as if Buffy's presence had blocked it out.

"Is it because you saw Drusilla?" Spike's blue orbs caught Buffy's hazel eyes for a fraction of a second before pulling away. Buffy wanted to give him a moment to collect himself but couldn't afford the luxury, if Drusilla was nearby there was probably a reason. "I didn't see her, Spike. But she was here, right?" Buffy prodded gently, resting a hand on Spike's arm trying to offer some sorta manufactured stability to the situation. "I need you to tell me where she went."

He wanted to say into thin air but his one of her words suddenly caught his ear. "You didn't see her?"

Buffy repressed an urge to trade barbs with him over the idiocy of that last question when second before she had just told him that. "No, I didn't see her."

"She wasn't here, then." Spike concluded mind clicking into place pieces that fit but a picture that didn't. There was something wrong, something terribly wrong. His mind was slipping, his concentration dwindling and he knew if he could just think he would know why, except he couldn't think. Buffy's eyes were on him then with an anger and disbelief he had seen before and he knew he couldn't explain. He knew that even if he knew what was wrong he couldn't lay that burden on her weighted shoulders, whatever the burden was. So he reached for a lie. "Sorry. There was a woman wearing a dress Dru used to have."

Buffy's mouth hung open in incredulous frustration. "You saw a dress? That's what all that was about?"

Spike shifted uncomfortable. "Sorry must have zoned out. Reminiscing and what not."

"Reminiscing." Buffy repeated cheek flushed with color as she tucked her stake away and tossed in the green shirt she had dropped in the confusion. "Of course..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Buffy turned back to face him, angry vibrating off of her skin. Her look sent a chill up his spine. "You know what it means." And with that she pushed the cart past him and didn't look back.


******


"What's going on here?" Manx stood next to Janice gesturing to Dawn's long brunette locks.

Dawn was in total shock. Janice expected to her to get her hair cut in this dump?! There were no windows; the carpet was a puke-green with stains that suspiciously looked like blood. The air was stale and old, like no one had been living there for a long time. She hugged her arms around herself, doing her best not to touch anything.

Janice smirked. “Kid needs a new ‘do. You know, she doesn’t really want to be…herself anymore.”

Manx grinned at the not-so-subtle implication. Rubbing his pudgy, orange fingers together, he looked at Dawn. “Let’s get to work!” He said with a leer.

Dawn winced, looking ‘Manx’ up and down. His hair was dark brown and greasy, and, like Janice, he wore all black. Looking at the tone of his hands and face, she bit back a grin. Looks like someone used a little too much fake tanner. She thought smugly. She perched on the edge of the cracked swivel chair. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. “Okay, I’m ready.”

An hour and a half later it was done. Manx took the apron off of her with a dramatic flair. “Ta-da! My best work ever!” He said proudly.

Dawn looked around expectantly for a mirror. “I want to see. Where’s your mirror?”

Manx and Janice looked at each other and laughed. “Well, you heard the kid, she wants a mirror.” Manx told Janice, gesturing to a small set of drawers against the wall.

“What’s so funny?” Dawn asked, bewildered at their response to her request.

Janice rummaged around for a few minutes, finally coming up with a small compact. Walking over, she dropped it in Dawn’s lap. “Nothing, hun. Just, uh, the kind of people we normally hang out with? Well, they don’t have much use for mirrors.”

Dawn looked at her, wondering what she meant.

As if reading her mind, Janice answered her unspoken question. “Let’s just say they don’t really want to see themselves…the way others do.”

Dawn left it alone, concentrating instead of her new ‘look’. It was shorter, a little above her shoulders, and fell in soft layers. It curled slightly, giving it a wavy look. Manx had changed the color, but subtly. It was a deep auburn, with dark golden-blonde highlights all through it. Janice had done her make-up to compliment her new look, dusky green eye shadow, with an earthy brown liner. Her lips were lightly touched with red, and then glossed over to give them a healthy sheen.

Dawn was speechless. She could have easily passed for eighteen, even twenty-one! “Oh my God…” She breathed.

Janice smiled, genuinely pleased. “I take it you like it?” She said softly.

Dawn got up, hugging her friend. “Like it? I love it!” She said enthusiastically. Turning to Manx, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He replied, taking the mirror back from her.

Janice cleared her throat, hard demeanor back in place. “Now, about my favor…”

*****

Spike sighed, running a hand over his face and through his bleach blonde locks. He knew a smarter man would have left it be, however he wasn't that man. He tore after finally catching up to her as she unloaded the cart in front of a blue vested worker. Just perfect, he really wanted to have this conversation in front of someone with the words 'How May I Help You?' printed across their back. "Buffy, would you just tell me what that was about back there?"

Buffy glanced up at him as she uploaded the cart, his box of Wheatabix landing on its side on the conveyor belt, contains nearly spilling out. "You mean after your little memory romp with Drusilla aka The Ho?"

Spike rolled his eyes trying not to grind his teeth. "I thought we talked about you calling her that."

"You're right, Spike we did." Buffy tossed her two shirts to the early morning employee, not paying attention to the shocked look painted on her face. "Because we spend a good portion of our time talking about her and setting up ground rules about her because you're always bringing her up!"

"I bring her up?" Spike scoffed. "You bring her up every bleedin' second of the day n' night! Every time you got an itch you can’t scratch, you gotta pick a fight and go back into trying to feed you to her, which I was never gonna do by the way. You need to stop dwelling on one tiny incident."

"A tiny incident?" Buffy huffed. “I think almost getting fed to someone is a pretty big deal. Not a tiny incident."

"It's been two years, Slayer, get a new soddin' song!"

"And Dru dumped you how long ago?" Buffy pushed the old familiar buttons. "Maybe you should stop by the CD department and pick up one of those new songs you were just talkin' about!"

Hot anger leapt in Spike's belly, he was about to retaliate when the clerk piped up. "I'm sorry," She looked to Buffy, concern evident. "But did you just say he tried to feed you to someone?"

Without her mouth slightly agape Buffy sent Spike a pointed 'now look what you did' look before plastering a fake smile on. "Of course not! I was talking about my..." She fumbled for a word, as she caught site of a reader digest style magazine named Cat Lover. "My cat."

"He tired to feed your cat to someone?" The woman seemed even more freaked than she had at the thought of him trying to feed Buffy to someone.

Buffy slightly annoyed that her well-being obviously meant less than her fake pet. "No. He tried to feed my goldfish to my cat, Drusilla."

"Wait." The woman frowned. "Didn't you just call her a 'ho'? Cats should be treated with respect."

Buffy was about to launch into another unplausible explanation, when Spike, whose temper had been rising stepped in. "I see you've got 'How May I Help You?' written on the back of that pretty blue vest you’re wearing."

"Yes." The woman bobbed her head proudly.

"Well it would be a great help if you could just shut your bleedin' pie hole and finish bagging the damn shit so I can get out of this festering hell hole!" He leaned over the partition, his rants echoed throughout the store.

Buffy turned away ashamed but didn't say a word as the clerk quickly finished the transaction. Then she grabbed up the bags and broke out into a brisk walk, making her way out of the store. Spike sighed and paid, fishing money from his wallet, a dropping the woman and extra five. "Sorry." He mumbled before taking after Buffy.

"Buffy, wait!" Spike called as he dropped down into the sewer after her, replacing the manhole cover with shaking arms. She walked ahead of him, still angry from their fight earlier. He quickened his stride to keep up, before the smell of the sewer hit him, stopping him in his tracks.

The stench was overwhelming normally to Spike’s sensitive nose, but in his depleted state, it was too much. He breathed in needless air in large gulps making the situation worse as bile filled his mouth and he fought to push it down. Spike gagged once, then twice, and then vomited up the Wheatabix he had shared with Buffy in the store. He gripped for the wall of the slime covered sewer and tried to straighten himself. Green spots danced before him, becoming a blur, and he struggled for a moment, before giving in, the demon taking over.

“What is your problem, Spike?! Come on already!” Buffy snapped, glaring at him.

Spike crouched down, growling low in his throat. He didn’t know what had happened to Buffy, but he wasn’t about to let the hell-god standing in front of him to get her.

“Whoa, Spike. What’s wrong?” Buffy asked, backing away while reaching for the stake in her back pocket.

Spike didn’t answer, sound not connecting. His amber eyes latched onto his foe in front of him. He was operating on pure instinct. Survive. Find Buffy. Survive. Find Buffy. The words repeated in his mind, creating a morbid mantra. Growling at his opponent, demon in full force, he lunged.