Part Five:
The Shopping Maul

Anya struggled to catch her breath as she climbed off of Xander's body. She collapsed on top of the stiff sheets. In the immediate absence of sex, the reality of the day's events fell around them, mixed with fear and the motel room's ample dust.

"I guess we're postponing the wedding," Anya said.

"No."

Anya turned to him, surprised. "But...with everything happening..."

Xander put his arm around her and pulled her body closer to his. "Something's always happening," he said. "Some great evil is rising all the time. We may not always beat it, but as long as we live our lives, and hold on to the things that make us happy, we always win."

Anya smiled. "How did you get so wise?"

Xander let his hand softly caress his fiancée's cheek. "I have this great girlfriend who's lived for a millennia."

*

It was late morning when Giles knocked on the motel room door. When there was no answer, he knocked harder. The door finally swung open, allowing the sunlight to wash over the threshold.

"Shhhh. Ow, dammit." Spike leapt back into the room, skin smoking, and gestured for Giles to follow him quietly. They crept past Dawn's sleeping form and went into the bathroom.

"How is she?" Giles asked. "Did you tell her about Buffy?"

Spike nodded.

"And did she take it badly?"

"Badly would be a bloody understatement," Spike explained. "She didn't believe me at first. Started screaming that I was evil and tried to run out of the room. I restrained her, of course, but it wasn't without injuries."

"You hurt her?"

"Other way around, old man." Spike held out his arms to show Giles rows of healing scratches and tooth-shaped cuts. "Lost a bit of hair too. And we thought big sis was the sodding warrior."

"But she calmed down eventually?"

"After a few hours of beating the living hell out of me, and then a few hours of hysterical crying, yeah, she calmed down."

Giles sighed sadly. "She was probably just beginning to accept that Buffy was dead. Now she has to accept that Buffy is alive and trying to kill her. It must be terrible."

"Not a picnic for me either. Get one of the witches to look after her. I gotta kill something."

Giles knitted his eyebrows together. "Kill something?"

Spike groaned. "Not people, I bloody promise."

Giles looked unconvinced.

"There's an entrance to the sewers in the basement," Spike explained. "If nothing else, I'll at least find me a vamp nest. Plus we've still got a Fyral demon on the loose. And I'll be sure to ask before I decapitate; maybe someone's seen Buffy."

*

Spike walked through the sewers slowly, careful not to make any noise that would alert the underground monsters to his presence. The long night with Dawn had been trying, and he needed some serious violence to work through everything that was crowding together in his mind.

He didn't mind that she had attacked him. And he had expected the crying. Neither of those things had really bothered him.

What did bother him, and what he didn't tell Giles, happened as Dawn was finally drifting off to sleep. For the first time in a hundred years, Spike had unconsciously started breathing.

Spike breathed often. He would breathe to smoke, of course, and he would also do it anytime he wanted to be perceived as human. But since it hadn't been necessary to his life for over a decade, it always took a conscious effort. However, just a few hours ago, he was lying on the small, hard bed next to Dawn. She had her face buried in his neck, and her sobs were just starting to subside, more from exhaustion than anything else. Spike had stopped trying to rationalize with her after she first drew blood from him, so by then he just lay next to her, with one hand on her back and the other trying to calm her by slowly caressing the side of her face. It went on that way for a while, and then Spike noticed that he was breathing.

It was strange to feel himself taking in breaths, and for a moment he almost blew it off as a fluke. But then he realized that he was breathing differently than a human normally would. It was deeper and faster, but not the puffing of a frightened, hunted human. It wasn't fear. Not excitement either, but almost that. Then it hit him.

It was happiness. It was love.

The realization made Spike want to throw up.

Not that he didn't like the girl. She was the one who had kept him from offing himself. He felt this fierce desire to protect her, and he genuinely enjoyed being around her. But he couldn't love her. He couldn't find happiness with her. He knew these things.

For a vampire, happiness came from the kill, and love came from sadomasochism. What he and Drusilla had was true vampire love. And when he was left without her, he turned to the only other person on Earth who could kick his ass and make him like it: Buffy.

But Dawn was nothing like Buffy. Their relationship was so much different. And she had called him her brother.

Spike was jarred out of his thoughts by the sound of someone approaching.

*

The three vampires walking through the sewers were anxious for night to fall. The previous night they had killed a wealthy young woman, and Phillip's pockets were stuffed with cash. Phillip was the unofficial leader of the group, having been turned first. It was only six months ago that he'd been walking home from school when a stranger grabbed him and effortlessly sunk his teeth into Phillip's neck. He laughed to himself now, when he thought of how frightened he had been that night, the night he died. Now nothing scared him anymore.

He had turned his friends Eric and Tyler shortly after his own dark transformation. Together they had killed the anonymous woman, chosen only for her expensive-looking clothing and the foolishness she displayed by walking alone after dark on an unpopulated street.

Phillip led the attack, taking the woman from behind and drinking deeply from her flesh before she even had a chance to scream. Eric and Tyler took her arms and sliced open the bulging blue vein on each wrist with their razor-sharp teeth. With her head thrown back limply and her arms extended, it looked like a bizarre crucifixion under the dim light of the half moon. The young vampires had taken every last drop of her blood, and every last cent of her cash.

The trio had no use for money, of course, since they felt fully capable of stealing anything they wanted. But it made them feel more powerful, as if, in the hierarchy of the underground world, these material things actually mattered.

When they rounded the corner they were surprised to see a thin blond man leaning against the wall, casually smoking a cigarette. In the darkness of the sewers he was merely an outline, until a long drag from the cigarette illuminated his face with a dark orange glow.

Phillip knew who he was. For weeks this crazed vampire had been killing mercilessly. There had always been rumors of his viciousness towards his own kind, but recently he had been worse than any story had portrayed him. They said he must have lost his mind, for her dusted vampires and tore apart demons without provocation, as if he just enjoyed killing so much that his bloodlust could never be satiated. Phillip found it all disgusting. A vampire should kill humans, not other vampires. Any idiot knew that.

Phillip gestured to his friends, reached into his jacket, and removed a switchblade. Eric took out a box-cutter. Tyler picked up a discarded length of pipe. They advanced upon the silent vampire bravely. The odds were in their favor. This was going to be easy.

Spike couldn't help but chuckle as he changed into his game face.

Weapons were for poofs.

*

When Spike returned to the motel room, Xander and Anya were sitting on one of the beds, surrounded by discarded fast-food containers. Dawn sat on the other bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hand holding a milkshake to her face, and her lips clutching the straw absentmindedly. The flickering colors of the television danced over her body.

She looked up when Spike walked in.

"You're hurt," she said flatly.

Spike took off his coat. He had been stabbed in the shoulder, but not deeply; the wound was already healing. "Not bad." He gestured to Xander and Anya. "What are these wankers doing here? I told Rupert to call in the witches."

"We're just as good as any witches," Xander argued.

"Better!" Anya said proudly.

Spike rolled his eyes and walked to the side of Dawn's bed. "Sun's set, nibblet. What do you say we do some shopping?"

Dawn's mouth remained in a sad line but her eyes seemed to flicker slightly with interest. "Really?"

"Yeah. I came into some cash and decided I'm sick of seeing you in those same bloody clothes. So get your shoes on."

Dawn turned away from him. "You shouldn't buy me stuff with money you stole."

Spike sighed. "I stole it from *bad* people, so it's okay." When there was no response, he tugged at his bloodstained shirt. "Need some new things myself, so I'm going with or without you."

"Better take advantage of this, Dawnie," Xander said. "I'd bet that the last time Spike was generous, there was a land bridge from here to Japan."

"Eat me, monkey boy," Spike growled.

*

When Spike had been human, nighttime was much different. A house was engulfed in it, with meager lights battling the shadows. People spent their evenings together, in one room, conserving the finite fire and fearing the things that thrived in the night. But now there were shopping malls, where the ever-present fluorescent glare could make even the darkest night cower.

Spike hated it.

"Bloody stupid America," he said as he and Dawn walked past the many stores with their neon signs and blaring music. "Someday, little bit, I'll take you to another country. Australia maybe. Never been there myself, but I hear it's all trees and ocean and crap. Show you what things looked like before they paved over half the sodding planet."

"If I live that long," Dawn said quietly.

Spike stopped and grabbed her by the shoulders, enough to startle her, but careful not to hurt her. "Dammit, girl. What did I promise you?"

Dawn tried to unsuccessfully to pull away.

"Just two bloody nights ago! What deal did we make?"

Dawn sighed in resignation. "That we wouldn't die."

"That's right," Spike said, releasing her. "So shut up, go into that store, and be a good little consumer.

*

"What do you think?"

Dawn stepped out of the dressing room and twirled around. She was wearing a tight red dress, made out of imitation velvet that begged to be rubbed. It hung well above her knees, exposing her firm and rounded thighs, and dipped low at the neckline, hugging her burgeoning breasts.

"Over my pile of dust!" Spike nudged her back into the stall.

Dawn smirked and admired herself in the mirror. "I'm almost fifteen, you know. Pretty soon boys are gonna ask me out."

"And I will tear out the throats of each and every one of them. Now try on something decent."

Dawn glared at him jokingly. "You are so unfair."

When they left the store, Dawn had chosen two plain cotton t-shirts and a pair of jeans. Her mood seemed to have lightened as she swung the bag by her side and continued teasing Spike.

"Victoria's Secret is right over there," she said.

"No."

"I should have some fancy underwear. You never know when someone might see it."

"If anyone *ever* sees your underwear, I'll personally remove their eyes from their -"

Spike was interrupted by a scream.

*

"So how does this work?" Tara asked.

Willow finished arranging the red candles in a circle around her girlfriend. "Do you remember the spell I used to restrain Glory?"

Tara twisted her mouth into her characteristic half-smile. "I think I was kind of insane at the time."

"Oh, yeah," Willow said, embarrassed. "Well, it worked okay, but it took a lot of energy out of me, and it didn't hold for more than a few seconds. This one should be different."

Tara examined the ordinary-looking sand that accompanied her inside the circle. "What makes it different?"

"This," Willow displayed a bag the size of a quarter, filled with iridescent green herbs. "It's called Agarwal, and it's very rare. Giles had to pay a small fortune for it, and we only have enough to do the spell twice."

"So this is the trial run?"

Willow nodded. "Sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all." Tara held out her arms in mock surrender. "Bind me, baby!"

Willow smiled suggestively. "Later."

With Tara sitting in the center of the circle of candles, Willow began chanting in a language so ancient that it didn't even have a name. As she did this, she sprinkled the Agarwal around Tara. When she had emptied the tiny bag, she stopped chanting and looked down at her girlfriend.

"Did it work?" Tara asked.

"Let's see," Willow said. "Try to move."

Tara went to stand up, but hit her head on an invisible barrier and she fell to her knees. She traced her hands around the circle of candles and found the same resistance. An impenetrable dome had been formed around her.

"You did it!" Tara said, smiling proudly. "So how long will it hold?"

Willow shrugged. "In theory, forever. Which may be how long it takes to de-brainwash Buffy. But at least now we have a chance."

"My brilliant witch," Tara said with a wide smile. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Willow laughed. "Let me remove the barrier, and then you can show me."

*

The Fyral demon effortlessly pushed people out of his way as he approached them. Spike took Dawn by the shoulders and pushed her into the entranceway to a store.

"Stay here," he told her. "Anyone comes near you, you scream my name, got it?"

Dawn nodded, her eyes wide with fear.

Spike had moved only a few feet away from Dawn when the demon was at him, flailing its long arms. One connected with Spike's body, but he remained standing, and returned the attack vigorously. His blows caused it to move backwards, but he couldn't make it fall. Seemingly uninjured, the Fyral demon tore into Spike's stomach with one of its claws.

"Dammit!" Spike said, looking down at the torn cloth hanging over the fresh wound. "I am so bloody sick of buying new shirts!"

With a growl of determination, Spike lunged at the demon, broke its arm, and then knocked its legs out from under it. He straddled it, grabbed its head, and banged it into the floor repeatedly, until blood started spurting from the demon's mouth.

"Slayer says kill," it said in Fyral.

"What?" Spike asked, stunned at the mention of Buffy.

"Slayer has all demons working for her," the demon continued in its language. "Slayer says kill the girl. The girl you protect."

"Does she?" Spike said in Fyral. His eyes sparkled with delight as he leaned close to his victim. "Well, here's what I say to the Slayer."

Spike's face morphed into its demonic visage, and he swiftly tore the Fyral demon's throat out. Its blood was sour, far inferior to humans', but Spike had become used to drinking demon blood lately. After feeding for a moment, he dug his fingers into the wound and pulled downward with all his strength, ripping the large demon's body wide open. Intestines slid onto the floor, and blood spilled - or rather burst - into rushing rivers that continued to throb with the demon's heartbeat until Spike reached into its open chest and tore its heart out.

"Spike!"

Spike was off the demon and by Dawn's side in a moment. She was looking past him and shaking with fear.

"Dawn, it's okay, it's dead," he said.

Dawn opened her mouth to speak, but was only able to point. Spike spun around.

Four more demons were walking towards them.

"Come on!" Spike grabbed Dawn's hand and they ran out of the mall.

*

Xander and Anya sat on one of the beds in Willow and Tara's room. Willow sat on the other bed. Spike sat on top of the dresser, wearing only a pair of jeans, his torso a bloody mess. Giles paced back and forth between them all. Dawn was in the next room with Tara.

"Fyarl," Spike said. "I didn't recognize the others."

"Are you sure?" Giles said. "It would be helpful if we knew what types of demons they were."

"They were big, bumpy, and ugly." Spike said. "Who gives a bleeding hell what they're called in the Almanac of Slime?"

"And the demon you killed," Willow asked. "He said he was working for Buffy?"

Spike nodded. "Said his orders were to kill Dawn."

"She's certainly made friends fast," Anya said softly.

"I'm thinking we need a new plan," Xander said.

"I got a new plan, mates," Spike said. "I take Dawn, and I get the hell out of town."

"Cause that worked so well the last time we tried it," Xander muttered.

"I don't mean drive ten miles away in some piss-poor excuse for an automobile," Spike explained. "I mean get on a plane and fly to the opposite end of the Earth."

"She'll come after you," Giles said.

"Let the bint come," Spike replied. "We'll keep moving. She won't find us."

"That's no life for Dawn to have," Giles countered.

"And this is?" Spike leapt off the dresser. "You bastards can play whatever you like. Do your little spell, put the bitch in a bubble, and then talk about your feelings until the world ends. But I'm taking Dawn, and we're taking off, and if any of you try to stop us, I'll tear your bloody limbs off!"

*

When Spike returned to their room, and sent Tara away with a grunt, Dawn knew that something was wrong.

"What is it?" she asked.

Spike sighed and sat down on the bed beside her. "Remember when I told you about Australia? How'd you like to go see it tomorrow?"

Dawn's face registered no emotion. "We're leaving?"

Spike nodded.

"Is it...is it that bad?"

Spike turned to look at her. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyes - those huge eyes that could melt him in a glance - were streaked with tiny red lines. She was afraid.

"No," Spike said. "Willow has a spell that'll keep Buffy restrained until they can get her back to her old self. Still, it could take a while. And we don't need to be taking any chances with your safety, nibblet. So let's go, just you and me, and we'll come back here when we can." He pushed a lock of her thick brown hair away from her face. "What do you say?"

Dawn took a deep breath and looked into Spike's eyes. "Do you think...will they really be able to help her?"

"Absolutely," Spike said, his gaze firm. He took Dawn's hand in his. He was struck by how much smaller and softer it was than his own. He had a sudden urge to kiss it, and he pulled her limp arm slowly, until her hand was at his face. He pressed his lips against her flesh and felt as if he could die in her scent.

Dawn leaned her head against Spike's bare chest. He thought he could hear her heart break with every tender beat. Her breathing was ragged, as if on the verge of tears. Spike wrapped one of his arms around her and pulled her even closer.

"It'll be okay," he said.

Then the window exploded.