A/N: Thanks for all the reviews.

Spike was hungry. He was used to that feeling, the pigs blood never really did fill him up completely, there was always something missing. Now, though, the thought of drinking that cold, clotted, bodily fluid was repulsive to his senses. His body wanted actual human food. Spike had dabbled in the odd delicacy over the years – spicy buffalo wings, flowering onion – but he had never really been able to taste them. They were just comfort food.

Now, his stomach was growling for food and drink. He had after all just lost a lot of liquid. Spike shook his head and smirked.

Today was a day for firsts.

He trudged along the pavement, still feeling wary about the sunlight upon his skin. It didn't feel natural to him; he tried to stick mostly to the shadows of the overhanging shop roofs. They provided him with some shelter from the light.

There was a bakery up ahead, and he could smell the freshly baked bread. Spike inhaled deeply, and his stomach rumbled again.

What he needed was a decent meal, a decent drink, and somewhere to sit down and rest. His legs were killing him.

He'd have to steal the bread, but then again it was hardly the most severe of his crimes over the years. Spike approached with what he hoped was some degree of stealth.

He was about to make his swipe when he heard someone shout out. Spike spun around, assuming he had been caught, but instead a man ran straight into him knocking him half onto the bakery display and sending several delicious looking bread rolls scampering across the street.

"Stop him!" A woman cried, running down the street "He took my bag!"

Spike picked himself up, scowling, and looked in the direction the mugger had gone. He was still visible, clutching the rich bird's purse. Spike brushed himself off and fully intended to go on and pocket the grub while everyone was distracted. Then that pesky conscience nagged at him.

"Being good is annoying" He muttered to himself.

Nevertheless, he took off after the street punk. He was quite far ahead and Spike's legs were protesting this exertion. He ignored them, he had once been a very powerful vampire – if he couldn't even catch up with a scrawny thief now then his life might as well be over.

He stretched the muscles in his legs to capacity, ignoring any quivering he felt from them, as he sprinted down the street. The mugger rounded the corner and seconds later Spike did too, his arms scissoring at his sides, his lungs wheezing. He had forgotten how to breathe in periods of heavy exertion and it took him a while to get the rhythm of it right without ending up breathless and gasping for air.

Spike barely noticed that they had entered the back streets in a bad area of town.

"Oi! Stop!" Spike yelled after the guy.

He turned around, surprised, and tripped over his own foot, stumbling. It slowed him down enough for Spike to launch himself through the air and careen into the mugger's back. They both fell to the ground, grunting. Spike's face grazed against the rough tarmac and he hissed in pain. He kept his hold on the man, though, gripping his leather jacket hard.

Spike rolled him onto his back and took the purse from him, panting "I'll take that, mate"

"I don't think so, mate"

His head whipped around to see another street punk emerge from seemingly out of nowhere. Then he heard footsteps coming from another direction. He turned and there was another one, and then another one jumped off a nearby stoop and strolled towards them.

Spike stood, still out of breath, legs quavering. There were four of them including the one who was picking himself off the floor.

He looked at each of them in turn "I don't want no trouble. I was just doing a lady a favour"

One of them, a tall and lanky fellow with a purple buzz cut snickered "Hey, Jay, this guy for real? Check out his voice, man! Cor, blimey, guv'nor!"

They all cracked up at that, their laughter a chorus of annoyance. Spike wanted to smash their faces in. However, there were four of them and only one of him. No time to get hasty.

"Nice hat, dude" Another one remarked, smirking, he had a green Mohawk "I dig the whole street urchin thing you're swinging"

Laughter.

Spike dropped the purse and shrugged "Fine, you keep the bloody thing. See if I care. Done my good deed for the day. I'll be off"

He turned to leave, but the obnoxious one with the buzz cut was blocking his way. He put his hand on Spike's chest and gave him a little shove.

"I don't think so," He hissed.

"No?" Spike's eyebrows rose.

"No," The punk replied "We'll have to have some fun with you first, Mary Poppins"

Spike sighed and made as if he was about to leave but instead he turned back and decked the guy in the face. He fell to the floor, with a cry.

Spike looked at his hand, mouth wide "Ahhhh!"

He shook his already injured hand, jumped up and down on the spot. The pain was immense. He'd been punching people for years but it had never hurt like this! He was so distracted by the pain that the punk behind him slammed into him and took him down to the floor. He punched him in the face and Spike yelped. His face felt like it was swelling up immediately.

Suddenly there were lots of hands on him, pulling at his clothes. His newly acquired hat was the first thing to go. Then they pulled off the jacket, searching for whatever goodies he might have. They were clearly disappointed with the one dollar bill they found.

Someone kicked him in the ribs, making him gasp. The dull ache spread throughout his body and he curled himself up into a little ball feeling like a chicken shit.

"Nice shoes, dude," Someone cackled, before ripping said shoes off of his feet "Now they're my shoes"

Another kick landed to his side and Spike let out a racking cough. He curled himself up tighter, clutching his head in his hands, trying to protect himself. He thought he might be sick as a metal toe capped boot slammed into his stomach.

"Hey!"

Spike frowned to himself, he recognised that voice. The street punks turned around, leaving him alone for the moment. Spike opened his eyes and focused on the blonde girl who stood a few metres away. He had never felt quite as humiliated as he did now.

Buffy stood in the road, arms folded and blonde hair blowing in the breeze. She had the wolf with her. He stood slightly behind and off to the side of her, her silent backup. Not that she needed any. She was, after all, still the Slayer.

The punk with the buzz cut smiled "Hello, darlin'. What can we do for you?"

"You can get the hell away from my boyfriend" She replied, jaw tight.

He laughed and looked at Spike in disbelief "Him? Oh, man, this just gets better and better!"

"No," Buffy clenched her fist "but it's about to"

The punk frowned, not understanding why this petite little blonde girl wasn't afraid of him. Then he just shrugged and ran at her clumsily, arms outstretched to grab her. Buffy landed a swift kick to his gut sending him flying backwards through the air and into the side of a car.

The alarm shrieked nosily.

The rest of the punk's gang looked at her, agape. There was a beat. Then they ran off, as fast as their legs could carry them.

Spike groaned and pushed himself up into a half-sitting position. He hurt all over.

Buffy looked down at him.

"S'pose this is gonna be a regular thing then, eh?" Spike rasped "You saving me from getting my arse kicked"

She gave a brief shake of the head "No, next time it'll be me kicking your ass if you ever run away like that again. Butthole"

Spike laughed a little, but found it did him no good as he went into a fit of coughs "Little help would be nice"

Buffy walked over to him, held her hand out.

He took it.