A/N - Hello, hello! I know I should be working on updating "The Visitor", but this little one-shot wouldn't quit rattling around in my head. I hope you enjoy! Please read and review!

P.S. This is set sometime between Seasons 5 and 6 while Buffy was "away."

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the shirt on my back...okay, that's not really true. I own a few things, but nothing from the Buffyverse! Don't sue me, please?!

A Moment at the Mall

"Why are we here again?" Spike asked shortly as he trailed Dawn through the racks of clothing placed haphazardly around one of the Sunnydale Mall's many clothing boutiques.

He couldn't really be irritated with her, though. It was his own fault he was stuck in the mall on a Friday evening. She'd attempted to get him to let her go shopping with one of her little girlfriends, but since neither was really strong enough to defend themselves against any threats - both demon and human alike - he'd insisted that he come along. Of course Dawn had then rethought her decision to invite Janice or Jamie or whoever the hell she was and Spike was upgraded from the position of simple bodyguard to that of shopping companion which meant he now had to come into the stores instead of just waiting outside.

"We are here," Dawn said imperiously, "because Xander's birthday is next week and we need to get him something."

"One," the vamp began, holding up his right index finger, "I'm not getting the whelp anything. I kind of hate him, remember? And two," up popped another finger, "if you're shopping for Xander, why are we in a store that sells nothing but clothes for women and teenage girls?" He grabbed a t-shirt emblazoned with the words "Rocker Chick" in glitter off of a nearby display and shook it at her to emphasize his point.

Dawn sighed, shaking her head slightly before turning to face the vampire. "One," she mocked, "you do not hate Xander, you big liar. And two, I need a new skirt. None of my old ones fit anymore."

"Hey!" He cried indignately. "I do so hate that bloody wanker. Actually, I loathe him. I loathe him so much that if I didn't have this sodding chip in my head, I'd rip out his spinal chord and beat him to death with it."

"Whatever you say, Spikey." The teen replied as though she didn't really believe him, but would agree with him anyway to avoid an argument about how evil he wasn't. "And eww, by the way. Thanks for that visual."

Silence fell over the pair, but it was not uncomfortable. This is how it was supposed to be. Them together. A pair. The former Key and her protector. And protect her he would, just like he promised.

Spike amused himself by making faces at the various children shopping with their mothers while Dawn thumbed through a rack of skirts and dresses. "What about this?" She turned to him suddenly, pulling a knee-length denim skirt from the tangle and holding it in front of herself.

"What about it?" He questioned confusedly. It was a skirt, wasn't that all that mattered?

"Is it cute? Do you think I'll look good in it?"

"Ummm..." Spike was at a loss. He had learned about a great many things in his 120 odd years, but the ins and outs of teenage fashion was not an area of his expertize. That didn't mean he wasn't willing to try and fake it, however. "Yeah, sure. It'll look, erm...really good. Fantastic even!"

"Has anyone ever told you," Dawn started as she rehung the skirt, "that you are a horrible actor?"

He smiled sheepishly and watched as she selected a different skirt. So much for faking it...he thought wryly. "Sorry 'Bit, but I'm not really good at this sort of thing."

"That's alright, I forgive you. Can't stay mad at you anyway. You're all I've got since Buffy..." She trailed off, quickly turning back to the clothing rack. She was trying to hide her sadness from him, but it didn't work and the shimmer of an unshed tear at the corner of her eye sent a painful jolt straight to his unbeating heart.

The Slayer's friends had all hashed out their feelings about her death in a pow-wow of sorts at the Magic Box, but Spike and Dawn had shied away from the group mourning. Instead the duo diligently avoided talking about anything related to Buffy's leap from that God forsaken tower. They usually didn't speak talk about Buffy at all and if they did, it was only in each other's presence. But Dawn had obviously decided that now was the time to break their unspoken vow of silence.

"Hey," he said softly, turning her head so she was forced to face him, "I'm not all you've got. You've got the Scoobies, don't you? And the Watcher. They all love you almost as much as I do." She smiled at that, but it didn't quite reach her large blue eyes. "And yeah, you do most definitely have me. You'll have me until you're so sick of my company that you want to dust me, but even then I won't leave you alone."

"I know, it's just..." She tried to duck her head, but Spike's hand at her chin prevented her from avoiding questioning stare.

"It's just what, Niblet?"

"You're the only family I have left." Dawn choked back a sob.

If he had been just some vamp, the gentle look of love that spread across his pale face would have seemed completely out of place. But he wasn't just a vampire, he was Spike and he could love. In fact, hadn't that always been his biggest downfall?

He pulled her into his arms, wrapping his leather duster around her as he let her cry on his shoulder. When he spoke his voice was suspiciously uneven. "Yeah well, you're the only family I've got, too. That's why we've got to stick together. It's you and me against everyone else, right?"

"Right." She agreed After a quiet moment, Dawn composed herself and untangled her long coltish limbs from his embrace. In a gesture that she found wholly amusing - if the small, watery giggle that erupted from her was any indication - she used the collar of his patented black t-shirt to dab at her tear streaked face before pulling back to meet his gaze.

"So," he said, forcibly intejecting a lightness into his tone, "about this bleeding skirt you need so damn much..."

"Oh yeah, sorry." She held up the forgotten article of clothing in her hands, poised to ask him what he thought of the flowers embroidered along the seem before she remembered his fashion inadequacies. "Since you have too much testosterone in your body to simply look at one on the hanger and give me your opinion, we'll have to try something different. I'll pick out some stuff," she grabbed another handful of skirts off the rack in demonstration, "and take it to the dressing room to try on. You just tell me if it looks good. Okay?"

"After you, 'Bit." Spike gestered for her to walk in front of him. "But you're not taking this one with you." He said, pulling a pleated plaid micro-mini from her pile as she moved past him.

"Why not?" She complained. With a look that clearly said 'Are you serious?', he put the skirt back on the rack and ushered her towards the changing stalls at the back of the store. "Fine." she huffed, clutching her remaining skirts to herself. "Geez, overprotective much?"

Unbidden the memory of his last conversation with Buffy flashed in Spike's mind.

I'm counting on you...to protect her.

Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight.

"Made a promise to a lady, didn't I?" He asked though too quietly for her to hear, a sad smile playing around his lips.

"What was that?"

"Nothing 'Bit." He replied, taking a seat in the lobby of the small dressing room. "Now get to modeling." She giggled lightly before disappearing into one of the curtained off stalls. He settled back into the uncomfortable plastic to wait, resting his head on the wall behind him. Till the end of the world, Buffy. He thought with a sigh. Till the end of the world...

The End