Author's Notes: FINALLY we’re off in AU territory for a bit. A quick note on the timeline, however. For the most part in this story I used the original airdates of the episodes to figure out when things took place… unless two episodes, aired a week apart, clearly covered events on consecutive days (Such as “Fool For Love” and “Shadow”). There were a couple of major time line gaps, due to holidays and stuff. So I’m filling in a few gaps here. This takes place after “Into the Woods” (early December) but before the airdate for “Triangle” (early January).

After the heavy drama of “Into the Woods” I desperately needed to head back into campy demon of the week territory. Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. It remains one of my favorite chapters in this story.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Credits: Bwahahahaha… all the dialogue in this chapter is original. If you hate it, it’s my fault.

Betaed by Phuriedae.

Banner by Phuriedae

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Chapter 14

Changing Season

I spend a few days feeling like I've just been hit over the head. Hard. Everything feels off. Surreal.

Thank god I have my mom and my friends. When I tell mom what happened, we commiserate over lots and lots of chocolate and ice cream. She talks a little about Dad, and even though she doesn’t come right out and say it, I know that he probably cheated on her—even though they’ve always denied it.

When I tell her about Riley saying it was my fault, she gets angry.

"Don't you believe that, Buffy," she says. "He's a grown man. He makes his own decisions. Whether you were closed off or not, it's not an excuse to go and do what he did. That was his decision, and he shouldn't have put it on you. That's cowardly, and frankly, I never would have imagined Riley as a coward. But if that's what he really is... you're better without him, honey."

God, I love my mom.

Willow and Tara are amazingly supportive. Anya offers to call in a favor and get me a vengeance wish, if I want. I thank her politely, but tell her no. Giles is sympathetic. Xander seems to be the one taking it the hardest, which is kind of weird, but then again, Xander had probably been getting used to not being the only Scooby guy.

Aside from Giles, I mean, who is totally old and doesn't really count.

Still... there's this little part of me that keeps hoping, you know? Hoping that Riley will come back. Some days I have to make myself stop watching the door, or looking for him while I'm on patrol. He was the one that was wrong... he should come back, so we can fix things.

Shouldn't he?

I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what went wrong, and my dreams with Mr. Gordo bring a lot of perspective. I can talk to him, since he never speaks and always seems to listen. It gives me time to get the words out, and work my way around to what it is I'm trying to say. He never gets impatient with me, and we finally work out something other than yes or no. Three taps is a question, though sometimes it takes me a couple of tries to figure out what it is he's questioning.

"Maybe I just don't know how to do it," I say one night a couple of weeks after Riley's departure. We're sitting side by side on the bed, our backs against the headboard. We’re not touching. We don't touch, really, unless we're sparring, or I'm crying. There's a careful sort of line that we've drawn between us, but the space there has gotten a lot smaller. If I wanted, I could reach out and touch his leg.

He taps three times, and then I have to think over what I just said. "Oh," I say, blushing. "I mean... maybe I just don't know how to... be in a relationship. How to love. I mean, my first major romance was with Angel and look at what a mess that turned into. Just when I thought we were, you know, a couple, he loses his soul and then starts trying to kill my friends. So, I put up these walls. And then Riley comes along, and I think... here's a great guy, and I don't have to worry about him losing his soul, and hey... demon fighter! Cool! But then... then I felt like I had to protect him and ... maybe I'm just screwed up."

No.

"Oh, who are you kidding? My best friend at the moment is an imaginary vampire who I can't see and who I dream about having soul baring conversations with every night. I think that more than counts as screwy."

There's a pause, then a hesitant tap, tap, tap?

"Is this about the screwy part?"

No.

Oh... right.

I think about what I just said. "We're friends," I ask, suddenly unsure, "aren't we? I mean.. we talk, sort of. And... with the not killing each other thing. We're friends, right?"

He chuckles very softly. And when he responds, it's with a gentle tap against my nose, which makes me grin.

Yes.

We're friends.

***

"Brrrrr," Xander says, coming into the Magic Box the next day. He's got his hands shoved in his coat pockets and his nose is red. "I think I just literally froze my ass off. I can't feel anything from my waist down, which, gotta say, is kinda alarming."

Anya looks up from where she's taking inventory. "I've got a lunch break coming up. We could go down to the storage room and have sex. Sex raises your body temperature."

"Anya, remember that talk we had about sharing?" Xander says, looking embarrassed. "This would be one of those exceptions."

"I don't know how you expect me to keep track of all them," Anya says, frowning. "You're always changing the rules."

We've got the heat on in the store, but I'm still wearing a sweater. When I left the house earlier the temperature was in the mid-thirties. Hello, this is California. It's not supposed to be this cold. Still, it's sort of Christmasy and speaking of, I think it's time for a shiny new subject change.

"Xander, I need some ideas on what to get Giles for Christmas," I say. Giles, thankfully, is out on an errand. "You're a guy. What do you think?"

"How come you only seem to remember I'm a card carrying member of the testosterone tribe when it's time to go Giles shopping?" he asks.

"Please," I beg. "Every year I end up getting him something boring."

"Well, Giles is boring," he says me. "He likes boring. I think it's a British thing."

"W-well, Spike's British," Tara says, looking up from the book she's studying at the table, "and he's not really, you know, boring."

"No," Xander says, rolling his eyes. "He's annoying. That's a vampire thing."

"Tara and I are going gift shopping Saturday," Willow says to me, "you want to come with?"

"I could use some retail therapy," I say, trying on a bit of a smile. "Where are we going?"

"The mall," Willow says. "Taking advantage of all those pre-holiday sales. Also, that place in the food court is giving out free cookies again. Yum."

"Sales?" Anya perks up. "Can I come? This is my first Christmas as an employed human. I really should do my part to contribute to the seasonal tradition of mass consumerism."

Willow rolls her eyes. "Christmas is about giving, not something a demon would know a lot about, huh?"

"Like you would know any better," Anya shoots back. "You're Jewish."

Tara pats Willow's arm, distracting her from saying something back. "It's the season of forgiving, too," she reminds her. Willow sulks.

"Fine," she says. "You can come."

"Goody," Anya grins, excited.

"We'll make it a girl's field trip," I say, then remember. "Unless you want to hand in your Man Card for the day and come, too, Xander?"

"Let me think... the mall, a week before Christmas, hundreds of crazy people beating each other up over gifts, and four women who can literally shop ‘til they drop? Ah... no. You ladies can have fun. Me and my testosterone will enjoy a quiet day hanging out together. We might invite Beer over, and Football."

"Oh, but—but you have to come," Willow teases. "We'll need someone to carry all the bags."

Xander gets a wild-eyed look and bolts before we can convince him to change his mind. Wise man.

***

Thankfully, on Saturday, he agrees to drop us off and pick us up, at least. The weather has been dipping steadily and none of us want to have to walk home later, carrying heavy bags in freezing temperatures. The mall is packed with Christmas shoppers trying to find the perfect gifts for their friends and loved ones. Walking the hallways is sometimes a challenge, especially trying to keep myself from accidentally using Slayer strength as we shove our way through the crowds.

We spend a few hours happily going from store to store, looking for presents. I manage to find a gorgeous blouse and blazer for my mom, and a DVD boxed set of the old Star Trek cartoon series for Xander. It's horrible, and I know he'll probably make me watch it, but he'll love it anyway.

We split up when we hit one of the bigger department stores. Anya wants to check out the men's leather goods to find Xander a new wallet, and Tara and Willow get distracted by the shoes. I wander over into the men's section, looking at sweaters for Giles. I think I gave him a tie last year, so a sweater might be a change. I'm trying very hard not to look at the jacket on the wall that would be perfect for Riley. I'm not going to dwell today. Dwellage can wait. Today is all about the Christmas season, and shopping. Which happen to be very mixy things.

But, as I'm flipping through the racks I feel my Slayer sense kick in. It's still daylight outside, and I'm getting vamp tingles in the mall?

Familiar vamp tingles?

Even though I know who it is before I walk around the corner, it's still something of a surprise to find Spike in the back part of the men's clothing section, trying on a button-down royal blue shirt over his usual black t-shirt. He looks up as I come into view.

"Bugger," he mutters, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

"Spike?" I ask. "What are you doing?" He takes a deep breath, as if calming himself, then raises his eyebrows as if it should be obvious.

"Shopping," he says, not quite meeting my gaze. Then he does look at me, a little... shyly? "Hi, Buffy."

"Shopping? You shop? Since when?"

"Since I needed some new shirts," he says, stripping the blue one off and tossing it over the rack, reaching for his duster. "My favorite one's got a bloody huge hole in it."

Sure enough, as he stretches for the duster I can see the giant hole in the left side of his black t-shirt, right over his heart. I grab the leather coat before he can shrug it on. He doesn't fight me for it, just waits while I stare.

"What happened?" I ask, curious. It looks like someone tried to stake him and missed. Through the hole I can see the remnants of a healing wound, now not much more than a slightly pink scar. No... they didn't miss. It just didn't take.

"As if you don't know," he says, suddenly moody. He pulls the duster on and settles it over his shoulders, covering the wound. "Your boy gloat about how he scared ol' Spike?"

"No, I don't know," I tell him, a little angry myself. "And he's obviously not my boy anymore. He left town. Riley did this?"

He gives me a wary look, then shrugs. "Day after. Guess it wasn't enough to break your heart, he had to share the pain around, yeah? Bastard came in, totally off his rocker, and staked me in cold blood. Brassed off that I found out about his nasty little habit and tattled."

"He staked you?" I blink. But... Spike couldn't have fought back. And Riley... Riley was mad at Spike for showing me what he was doing behind my back? That... that... ugh. "You wanna explain why you're not another layer of dust decorating your crypt?"

He mutters something I don't quite catch. "What?"

"Plastic," he says, rubbing his chest like it still pains him. If it went all the way through to his heart, I imagine it probably does. It took me a few days to heal from that stake wound to my stomach, and vamps don't heal as fast as I do. Probably slower, on a diet of pigs blood. "It was a plastic stake. Looked bloody real. Felt bloody real, too. Had himself a grand old time nailing me to the wall with it, then digging around in the wound a bit when he didn't like what I had to say."

Okay... Spike's annoying; I'll give him that. And there have been plenty of times when I've threatened to stake him because I didn't like what he had to say, but hearing this... it makes my blood run cold. What he's describing isn't, you know, ridding the world of an evil demon. This was torturing a helpless man... creature... whatever... for trying to help me. For revenge. And even though it's Spike, and I wouldn't cry over spilled dust... what Riley did was wrong.

"I didn't know," I tell him. "He didn't say anything."

"Would it have mattered if you did?" he says, slanting me a glance. "Imagine I'm not tops on your list of favorite people at the moment. I know it hurt you, finding that out, and... well, 'm sorry 'bout that." He ducks his head, as if he’s embarrassed.

Hold on... Riley never even said he was sorry, and he was the one clearly in the wrong. And Spike's the one apologizing? When did I enter the Twilight Zone?

I think about it anyway, and it's not too hard to respond truthfully. "It did hurt," I tell him. "Does. But I'm not sorry you showed me, and I'm not mad at you for it. Though I do kinda wanna know how you found out in the first place."

He frowns and picks up the blue shirt; more, I think, so he has something to do with his hands than because he's really looking at it. "Followed him," he says. "I saw him out late, wandering off downtown. Got curious. Thought he was there to dust them, at first." It might not be the whole truth, but I can tell he's not lying.

"You knew that place was there?" My eyes narrow.

"No," he says, meeting my eyes so I can see he's being entirely honest now. "Swear I didn't. Not ‘til I followed him. Bloody well hate places like that. Would have had myself a real good night, taking them down then and there, but I figured you needed to see, first."

Okay, vampires have standards. Who'd have thought? Or maybe it's just Spike.

"I did," I say. "I wasn't happy about it. But... I needed to see."

"Went back a couple of days ago, after...," he rubs his chest again absently, then gives me a sly glance full of knowing pride. "Someone burnt the building down. Seem to recall a certain little Slayer's got pyro tendencies. Wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" He smirks, curling his tongue behind his teeth.

"It was disgusting," I tell him. "And stinky. I was doing the world a favor."

"Good on you, Slayer," he says, with a friendly little grin.

I try not to match it with my own. Must be the Christmas spirit because I'm suddenly feeling some goodwill towards Spike.

I nod at the shirt in his hands. "Blue, huh? And here I thought you were incapable of wearing anything other than black."

"'S classic," he says defensively. "And it don't show the dirt and blood stains, does it?"

"True," I say, thinking of my constantly in need of replacement wardrobe. There's something to be said for practicality.

"Just thought I'd experiment. A little," he gives me a look that's so full of wariness and insecurity that I forget to make fun of him.

"Well, it works," I tell him. "Makes your eyes look bluer."

We both blink at each other for a moment.

Did I really just say that?

And oh, god, he's going to make a suggestive comment and totally ruin my mostly good day. I hurry to cover my little slip and hope I get there first.

"Why aren't you trying it on in the dressing room?"

"Why?" He looks genuinely confused.

"Well, privacy. And mirr—oh. Right. Dumb Buffy."

He chuckles, digging through the nearby racks and pulling up a black silk button down with a velvety sort of pattern all over it. He frowns at it, his forehead all crinkly. "What do you think, pet? Too poncy?"

"You're asking my opinion on clothes? Are we... shopping buddies now?" Okay, the day officially just got weirder. His eyes get wide like he didn't realize what he was saying. Then he scowls at me, a little angry.

"Wasn't thinking," he says. "Sorry. Thought we were having a decent conversation. Forgot we're enemies and all. Won't happen again, Slayer."

God, he's annoying.

"Spike?"

"What?"

"Shut up," I say, rolling my eyes. I was actually managing to have a good day, and stupid Mr. Moody Vampire is trying to ruin it, as usual. I grab the shirt from him and hold it up. Actually... it kind of looks good. The fabric is really nice and touchable and I can't help petting it a little. Then I frown, imagining petting it on Spike. Ew. "Too poncy," I decide. "Whatever that means."

He takes it back, his face full of suppressed mirth. "Think I like it," he says, doing that tongue thing that is totally grosser than it looks. "It's... tactile."

"Whatever. You were going to pay for those, right?"

The amusement drains out of his face and he gets a sheepish look. How have I not noticed before how expressive his face is? Probably because I'm used to staring at Angel and Riley's impassive expressions.

"Yeah," he lies. "I was gonna pay for them." I let it pass.

"You finished in here? I need to go find the others," I say.

"Don't have to stick around, pet," he says. I eye him, then the shirts.

"Yeah, I do, Spike. I'm not going to let you wander around the mall before Christmas and risk you doing something evil. As long as you're here, you can make yourself useful. There's four of us, and lots of bags."

He gets a funny look on his face, and I expect him to argue. Instead he just shrugs. "As you wish, Buttercup. Let's not keep your chums waiting, then."

He pays, shooting me semi-dirty looks as he counts money out of the wad of cash he had stuffed in his hip pocket, and I wonder what just happened.

I'm not sure what, but... something just changed.

***

There's some fuss when the others see what I found in the men's department, but when I point out that he's got super vampire strength and can carry all of our bags, that pretty much solves that problem. Tara and Anya don't seem to mind at all, and even Willow softens up enough to talk to him while we wait in line for our free cookies. I'm surprised he's not being a jerk about being roped into acting as our pack mule, but while Spike makes the occasional complaint that's about as far as it goes. It's nowhere even near Xander's usual marathon sarcastic whining sessions when we've conned... er... talked him into this particular job before.

"Mmmm," I say, taking a bite of warm gooey cookie as we wander towards the center of the mall. "Chocolate yummy."

"Free chocolate," Anya says, taking a blissed out bite of her own. "The best kind."

Spike has his cookie half-stuffed in his mouth, and with some juggling of bags he manages to break off a chewable size. "Not bad," he says, then slants a teasing look at Willow. "Though I think I like your cookies better, Red. Something about that dash of guilt."

Willow blushes, then glances at me. Holy crap. I'd completely forgotten that it was around this time last year Willow had done her little engagement spell. I wasn't even dating Riley then... has it really been less than a year? Riley and I never even made it to our...

I feel tears start to well up. "Sorry, Slayer," Spike says quietly. "Forgot you wouldn't want—"

"Shut up, Spike," I say automatically.

"Right," he says, and stuffs the rest of his cookie in his mouth.

***

It feels like everyone in Sunnydale has come to the mall today. The crowds are getting thicker as the day goes on, and trying to navigate through them is becoming a little annoying. It's not 'til I happen to glance back and see Spike wince that I realize there's a problem.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothin'," he says, his face defensive.

"What?" I demand.

"Bloody chip," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "All these humans in here, and I can't push past them too hard without it firing."

Oh. Wow. Even something as little as that? For once I feel a weird twinge of sympathy. I’ve been holding my strength back all day.

"Well, stay behind me, and the others, then," I tell him. "We can run interference."

This works until we get to the center of the mall, where Spike suddenly halts, his jaw dropping open. "Buggering fuck," he says. "Where do they all come from? S' like they're multiplying like bunnies."

Anya whimpers. "Don't say that. Why would you say that?"

Willow just rolls her eyes. "It's just an expression. He didn't mean, you know, actual bunnies."

"Well, it's a horrible expression," Anya says, shuddering.

Spike just gives her a strange look, then goes back to staring at the massive clutch of humanity in front of us.

"What's going on?" Tara asks.

"Mall Santa," I tell her. "Most of this is people waiting for their kids to get their picture taken on Santa's lap."

In the middle of the open area, under the skylights, is a giant North Pole set, with a huge throne in the middle, on top of a raised platform. An elf brings another kicking and screaming child up to sit on the lap of the jolly looking man in the Santa suit ensconced there.

"That would explain the crying," Willow says. When the others look at her, she shrugs. "It's tradition."

And it's true. As usual there's a ton of crying and screaming kids surrounding the North Pole set. I've never understood why people make their kids do this. It's clearly traumatizing. Good thing Xander’s not here. He likes mall Santas about as much as clowns.

"No, it's a demon," Spike says, frowning.

"What?" I crane my neck to see, then jump up and down several times. I hate being short. "Where?"

"Right behind old St. Nick, Slayer. What are you, bloody blind?"

"That's an elf, Spike," I tell him. Admittedly it's an overweight, clearly college-age elf with bad skin trying to make a few bucks... but just an elf. The elf tries desperately to get the squirming kid on Santa's lap to sit still and smile for the camera, but the kid keeps twisting around to look behind him and crying.

"The other side," he says, scowling when I clearly don't see it. ‘Cause really? Nothing to see. "'Bout six foot tall, all black and grey, goat horns, shaggy hair... tail... hooves... this ringing any bells?"

"Only the jingly ones on the mall music system," I say. "I don't see any demons, Spike. Aside from you, that is."

"Yeah, well the little tykes, do. That's what they're howling at."

"Wait!" Anya says. "I know this!" She's almost bouncing, like she's got the answer to a question in class and wants the teacher to call on her. "Does it have a big basket?"

Spike cranes his neck a little, to see. "Yeah. Why?"

Anya beams. "It's a Krampus."

"A what?" I ask.

"A Krampus. They're like the Anti-Santa. Santa brings presents for the good children, but the Krampus comes for the bad ones. Only little kids and other demons can see it."

"Okay. Hence the reason why Spike can see it but we can't," I say.

"How come you can't see it?" Willow asks Anya.

"Well, I'm human now, and an adult, obviously. I saw one or two, when I was a vengeance demon. They're really very ugly."

"What do they want?" I ask, suddenly glad we brought Anya along.

"Naughty children. They put them in their basket and take them back to hell with them, where they beat them horribly," she explains with a shrug.

"Not on my watch," I say.

"But... Buffy, how are you going to fight something you can't see?" Willow asks. "Remember the Lei-Ach demons? And... Marcie?"

Huh. I’d almost forgotten about Marcie. Of course, forgetting about Marcie was the whole problem to begin with.

"I've been practicing," I tell her. "I can do this. But not here... we need someplace with no people around."

"Good luck," Spike says, glancing around. "'S like a bloody cattle drive in here, innit?"

"Oh!" Tara says. "There's that store... um... Circe's Chalice, I think it was called."

"The one that went out of business?" I ask. They had a great close-out sale.

"Yeah... we-we passed it earlier. They're remodeling it, so you can get in, but there's nobody in there shopping, and it's right around the corner," she says.

"That'll work. How do we get this Crampy thing there?"

"Leave that to me," Spike says, grinning with the prospect of a fight on his hands. "Which way's this place?"

Tara leads us back and we deposit the bags beside the wall outside. Anya easily agrees to stand guard over our stuff. Hey... I may have to fight demons while Christmas shopping, but no way am I going to ditch my purchases. "Any idea how to kill this thing?" I ask her.

"Not exactly," she says. "Try cutting its head off. That usually works."

Right. I have no weapons and she wants me to cut the head off something I can't see. I can do this.

"What do you want us to do?" Willow asks.

"Whatever you can think of that would help," I say.

"No magic'n me, though," Spike says. "Don't need another accidental engagement, yeah?"

I put Willow and Tara in position by the doors to the store, then head back with Spike, pushing our way through to the front of the crowd.

"Problem," I tell him as we get closer. "Skylights."

He glances up. "This is close enough," he says. We're still about fifteen feet away, a velvet rope with a line of kids and parents between us and the base of the platform. This close, however, I can feel the demon up on the platform above. Well, at least Spike wasn't lying.

"What are you going to do?" I ask, suddenly suspicious. He just flashes me a boyish grin, which only serves to make me more nervous.

"Just keep up, Slayer. When it happens, it'll be fast." He turns and stares up at the platform, keeping just outside of the little bit of sunlight still coming in from overhead.

"Oi! Krampy-Claus!" he yells, his deep voice booming out over the noise of the crowd. Everyone near us suddenly turns to stare. I try not to shrink back into the crowd behind him. "Yeah, that's right! I'm talking to you, you ugly, hairy-arsed bastard!"

Up on the platform, Mall Santa is looking shocked and frantic, his mouth gawping behind his fake beard.

"Think you're so special, up there, judging who's naughty and nice? Making little kiddies cry? You're a sick, twisted, horny old pervert, is what you are. Gotta get your kicks spanking little boys and girls, and stuffing 'em down your basket? Wanker. You want bad? 'M as bad as they come. Why don't you get down here and face me, you bloody poofter? Or you too cowardly to face a real bad boy?"

The mall has gone absolutely silent within our little circle, and the crowd has drawn back from Spike as if he's diseased, leaving me standing beside him a little awkwardly. Above us, Mall Santa is shaking, he's so mad, and the elf is staring at him in horror. Suddenly the elf yanks the kid who's still sitting frozen on Santa's lap off of him, and passes him back to his mother. "You sicko," he hisses to Mall Santa. "Somebody call security," he yells.

Security is already on their way, but with the massive amounts of people they can't get to us easily. I can hear them pushing through the crowd, thankfully from the other direction. "Gonna need an escape path, pet. Can't run through this crowd without boiling my brains," Spike mutters, then goes back to shouting obscenities and insults up at the dais.

"C'mon, you bleedin' coward! You fuckin' piss chugger! What was your mother? A three-legged goat? Gonna sit up there and chew your cud you turd-licking, pox-faced, manky son of a—now, Slayer!"

I turn and begin shoving through the crowd with Spike hot on my heels. The people miraculously seem to part around us, clearing the way. Nobody, apparently, wants to be in Spike's path. When I manage to glance back he's got a maniacal grin on his face. I can feel the demon behind us, catching up. It's shoving through people as they close up behind us, and I can track it's path just by watching people flying out of it's way.

Guess it really didn't like Spike insulting its mother.

"Remind me to have a talk with you later about your battle tactics," I tell him as we run for the store.

"Oi. Worked, didn't it?"

"Yes, but you've just taught about seventy kids a few words even their parents don't know," I say.

"'M expanding their vocabularies," he says, utterly unrepentant, tearing past me once we're in the clear again.

Willow's propped the door to the empty store open and we speed in, all the way to the back. There's a bunch of two-by-fours, and some construction tools laying around, so I'm not totally without a weapon if I need one.

I feel the demon enter the store at the same time as Spike yells, "Incoming!"

Willow shuts the door, leaving just me and Spike to fight this thing. Probably of the good. This is the first time I've tried this with the lights on since the Leia demons. In my head, I try to sort through the tingles. There's the Spike ones, which are so familiar they're easy enough to ignore. Then there's the slimy ones rolling off my invisible demon friend. He's advancing on Spike, who's backing away a little, giving me room to move. Trying to focus on where the demon is, but not being able to see him when I can see everything else, is a little harder than it is in a pitch black room.

Spike starts swinging and kicking, and it's almost like watching someone practice their moves, except I can hear the blows connecting. I grab a nearby two-by-four off the stack and swing it at the demon. Spike jumps back.

"Watch where you're poking that, Slayer. Don't really fancy getting staked again this week," he grunts.

I swing again, and this time I connect. I feel the shock go through the wood, then hear a crash as the demon flies across the room into a wall, leaving a sizable dent.

"He's comin' for you," Spike warns, and I feel the demon approaching at a rush. I drop into the defensive position I've been practicing with Mr. Gordo, and let the demon close in. Once I can feel him in front of me, the fight gets a little easier. He's clearly not used to someone fighting back, either. His attacks are sloppy and messy, but he does manage to rake my arm with his claws, tearing my sleeve and leaving bloody tracks down my arm.

"Little help here, Spike," I shout.

"On it," he says, and seems to appear out of nowhere with a hand saw. He loops it around what I'm guessing is the demon's throat and grabs it from the other side, digging the blade into the demon's neck. "Kick it," he yells.

I aim a high kick for the edge of the saw, and between the two of us, we manage to force the saw through its neck. There's a squelching sound, then a couple of separate thuds. Spike drops the saw, grinning down at the floor. "And here I thought shopping would be borin'," he says with a laugh.

The demon tingles are gone now. I kick warily at where I heard the body fall and manage to connect with something. "Great. Invisible dead demon," I say.

"Don't worry," Spike says. "Lots of helpful little demons live in the mall after dark. Lots of trash to clean up and eat. Something'll take care of it tonight."

I shrug. Body disposal is so not my specialty. "Check its basket," I say, remembering Anya's description. "Let's make sure it hadn't already gotten take out."

Spike kneels and opens the basket. I giggle. "What?" he says, looking up sharply.

"You look like a mime," I tell him. What with the all black clothes and the white skin under the fluorescent lights, and the opening of invisible baskets, he really does. He just rolls his eyes, then looks in.

"Empty," he says.

"Must not be a lot of bad kids in Sunnydale," I say with a shrug.

"This is the Hellmouth, pet. Likely we just got there fast enough," Spike says.

The door opens and Willow and Tara peek in. "Is it over?" Willow asks. "Is it dead?"

"Yep," I tell her, kicking at the corpse again. "One invisible dead demon."

They edge in, staring at.... well... the floor. "Watch the head there, Glinda," Spike warns, pointing at a spot that looks just like the rest of the floor. Tara's eyes widen and she edges around it.

***

It's not ‘til we head back out into the mall that I remember the angry mob we'd left behind. However Spike's incident seems to have been forgotten. I frown. "I figured we'd have an audience," I say. "Spike wasn't exactly subtle."

"Oh!" Willow exclaims. "We did a 'Don't Look Here' spell. I got the idea from Marcie. Anybody passing the store would get the sudden urge to look somewhere else. Neat, huh?"

Spike frowns. "So anybody who saw something would just look away and forget they saw it?" he asks.

"Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?" Willow says. "And you don't really even need ingredients. It's more of a willpower thing."

Tara grins and nudges her girlfriend. "And you're all about the Will Power," she says and they both giggle over the bad pun.

"Can you counter it?" he asks, frowning.

Spike's interested in magic? Since when? Normally he's Mr. Cynic when it comes to magic.

"I guess," Willow says, pouting, clearly not liking the idea of someone breaking her spell.

"If... if you knew exactly what you were looking for," Tara explains. "And really, really wanted to find it."

"Willpower thing," Willow says.

"Why are you interested?" I ask suspiciously. He gives me an innocent look.

"Thought maybe I could have one done on my crypt, Slayer," he says, rubbing his chest wound. "Keep angry bastards from kicking my door in and staking me when I'm minding my own business."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever, Spike. Guys, I'm beat. Let's go collect Anya and our bags and give Xander a call so we can get out of here," I say.

That plan is met with unbridled enthusiasm.

***

The sun has pretty much set by the time we make it to the mall exit. Spike leaves us just inside the door, dropping our bags by our feet and heading out with a mock salute and a "Later, Slayer."

"What was that all about?" Willow asks, as he disappears. "Was Spike actually... being friendly?"

"Maybe it's the Christmas spirit?" Tara says.

"Demons don't celebrate Christmas," Anya says. "Well... sometimes we give presents, but they usually involve, you know, body parts. And the food is good, not to mention all the greed, depression, anger, and angst that generally accompanies the holiday season. But most demons don't bother with it, vampires especially."

"Too many religious overtones, maybe," Willow suggests.

"So, if not the Christmas spirit, then what?" I ask, still scowling out the mall doors at the platinum head that’s disappearing into the distant shadows.

"Maybe...maybe he's just trying to be helpful," Tara says, looking thoughtful. "It must get lonely, being the only one of your kind."

"Tara, we live in Sunnydale," I tell her. "There are almost more vampires than there are trees."

"Not chipped ones," she points out. "Not ones that are leaning toward good."

"Good? Tara... Spike's not good," Willow says. "He's tried to kill all of us several times."

Tara frowns. "I... I don't know how he was before. I never knew him be-before the chip. But... his aura is different. It's not... it's not like other demons. There's light in it, and it's growing. Not that I have a lot of experience with other vampires but...maybe.. maybe he's changing?"

We all think that over. I think of him muttering under his breath that he could be helpful. Of him agreeing to carry our stuff. Of him helping with the Krampus.

Spike, changing? Maybe. If any demon could, it would probably be Spike. He's amazingly adaptable for a vampire.

But do I really believe it?

Not so much. Demons don't change.

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