Spike flicked his cigarette out the window of his DeSoto, uncaring about the burn ban. From the backseat, Buffy squawked indignantly as he rolled up the window.

"Are you trying to burn the city down?" she asked, her eyes narrowing on his through the rearview mirror. "There's a burn ban for a reason, Spike. I don't know if you've been keeping up with the news, but there have been buildings burning, you know, like fire."

"I got it, Buffy," he said, with a roll of his eyes. He glanced to Xander, who had been shoved into the passenger seat by the Niblet. "She's a damn mother hen, she is. Always picking and fussing over my actions."

Buffy growled. "If you thought out your actions, I wouldn't pick now, would I?"

He smirked. "See what I deal with?"

Xander looked over the bench seat to the girls who were huddled together. Through the rearview mirror, he saw what the Whelp did. Buffy glaring at the back of his head, Niblet smiling wanly, and Red…Red was watching Xander with a worried look in her eyes. He knew the moment Whelp saw it, because he smiled convincingly and turned his gaze out the windshield, telling Spike, "You should have seen her in Sunnydale. You think she's bad now…"

"Xander!" Buffy protested. "That's it! You get no chocolate."

Whelp pouted at her over his shoulder, a good mask Spike thought. He acted like that was what he actually cared about, let them think that nothing was wrong. He was happy they weren't focusing on his past, if Spike had to guess what was spinning in the other's brain.

He pulled into the packed parking lot trying to find the closest space, despite the yells of, "There! Oh, oh, there!" coming from his backseat. He really wasn't a fan of the sun or the heat so he circled for a bit, much to the groans of the birds in the backseat. About the tenth isle he went down, he heard Xander say, "That person's pulling out. Wait a sec…" And sure as rain, an SUV back out of a parking space right next to the entrance.

"Well spotted, Whelp," he said as he pulled into the space left open for him. The women-folk practically fell out of the car, but Xander nodded, pushing the door open sedately.

"Just doing my duty to the girls," he said, a small smile, more real than the other's he had given, was given to him as he stepped out of Spike's car.

Spike felt himself smile as well as he hopped out of the vehicle as well, following after the gang of scoobies.

Of course, the first thing the girls all flocked around was the damn shoes. Buffy, Red, and Niblet all tried on nearly every single shoe style they could get their dainty little claws on. Xander and Spike hung back, and he was somewhat amused by the fact that Whelp ended up with all three of their handbags in his lap and a growing number of shoes beside him.

At one point Niblet came to him, gave him a sweet calculating look, before saying, "You strong, manly men look hungry. You should go check out the food court. We'll be there after we get shoes."

Spike, like earlier that morning, found himself thinking that she was a pushy little bint, but grabbed the Whelp by this tee-shirt sleeve and hauled him towards the exit of whatever hell they were stuck in. He milled through people, kept a hold of Xander's bicep as he guided them through the cattle fawning over clothing, perfume, and make-up. At one point, a representative spritsed something atrocious in their faces, and he couldn't refuse the growl that had the woman reeling back.

In the walkways of the mall, towards the food court where Spike could already smell the lo mein calling for him, he could feel Xander list towards him, trying to keep away from being touched. Spike refused to put his arm around Whelp's waist to tug him closer. Instead, he simply guided Xander behind him, keeping hold of the boy's wrist.

When they finally arrived at the overstuffed court, he asked, "Whatcha in the mood for, Whelp?"

"Stop calling me that, Bleach boy!" he said, bite in his voice, but small, true smile on his face.

Spike didn't try to fight the urge to catalogue the boy's features, strong jaw, sweet smile, dark eyes. He only wished the clothes Whelp wore were actually fitted to his form. He was so innocent it was almost painful. Spike held his arm a little tighter, pulling him away from a gaggle of girls who didn't have the sense to recognize the beauty that walked right by them.

"I'm thinking Chinese," Whelp said, tugging his arm and guiding Spike towards the Chinese stand.

So many scents assaulted him, chicken and Worcestershire and beef. He let himself be hauled into line, not protesting. They stood in line together, side by side, and Spike noticed. He noticed the way Xander's eyes trailed, wandered, following the form of another man with dark, blond hair, strong but small.

Spike smirked. "That what catches your fancy, pet," he asked, his fingers massaging the strong muscle beneath Xander's skin.

He startled, taking his arm away from Spike. "No. No! I wasn't…" Flustered now, Xander looked towards the small bar of food before him, taking a deep breath. "I was just…"

Spike settled his hand on Xander's triceps. "It's really not that big a deal, pet." He looked around the court, finally settling on another male, tall, broad, with a dark countenance. "That's more my type. Tall, dark…"

He looked at Xander, considering.

The boy looked upset, his lips thin as he stared strictly ahead of him, no longer looking anywhere but ahead of him. Spike felt himself tense at the idea of what the boy's father must have done to him to not even trust the feelings he had.

Spike sighed, released the boy's arm and reiterated, "'S not so bad as he said it is."

Xander didn't look at him, but the tenseness of the body beside him spoke volumes.