MOUSY BLOND-BROWN BROODY BIG BAD

by - Laure Alexander

TITLE	MOUSY BLOND-BROWN BROODY BIG BAD
AUTHOR	Laure
DISTRIBUTION	If you like it, just ask; I've never said no. If you have my permission, please take. List archives: yes..
SPOILERS	Possible ones for Season 7
RATING	PG13
CONTENT WARNING	one bad word, lots of brooding and mopiness; it was supposed to be funnier, but it's not...
SUMMARY	Set sometime early Season 7; Spike's back and not quite himself. I highly doubt the reality will be anything like this, but I got this idea...Dawn's had it.
FEEDBACK	Please, please, please. No flames, please.
DISCLAIMER	I don't own Buffy and friends or Buffy the Vampire Slayer; they're owned by Joss Whedon and Fox and thankfully UPN because we get nekkid Spike! No copyright infringement intended so please don't sue.
AUTHOR'S NOTE	See end.

He was brooding again, sunk as deep into his broken down chair as he could go, shoulders hunched in, head bowed, eyes desolate. His fingernails, bitten to the quick--a habit of *his*-- tapped tunelessly on the half-empty bottle of bourbon held in one hand.

It has been at least a half hour since he had taken a drink.

"Can't even get properly snockered anymore," Spike muttered to himself. "Damn conscience."

The verbal reminder of his new state sent him trying to slump even deeper into the chair and he gazed morosely at the front of his t-shirt until his eyes started to go buggy.

"Okay, that's it, I can't take it anymore."

He was so deep in his depression he hadn't heard the door open, but her strident voice sent pangs of longing and sorrow and guilt through him, and he jumped to the most obvious conclusion.

"You've come to stake me. Good. Thank you."

Dawn rolled her eyes and slung her book bag onto the couch, then knelt on the dusty cushions to rifle through it. "Not quite."

He finally had the desire to take another drink and slugged down a good half pint of the cheap and sour whiskey.

"That's going to pickle your brain," Dawn scolded, pulling a plastic shopping bag from the depths of the backpack. Glancing around the filthy, crap-filled crypt, she wrinkled her nose. "You used to at least keep this place semi-tidy. You've just let everything go to hell."

"I wish," Spike mumbled into his chest, not looking at her. Dressed in purple and gray, she was still too bright and cheery for him to take.

"So, you went and got souled. Big deal."

That roused him and he shot her an angry look. "It *is* a big deal. It's a huge deal. It's..." The momentary anger drained from him as quickly as it had come. Tears filled his eyes and he sniffled loudly.

Dawn gave him a horrified look. "You're not going to cry, are you?"

"Nuh..no," he whimpered, his mind filling with images of victims long dead, and Buffy pinned beneath him on her bathroom floor. To stave off the threatening tears, he took another drink.

"Okay, so I was wrong, it is a big deal, but you have to learn to live with it, or unlive with it as the case may be. Maybe you should talk to Angel," she added brightly.

Spike gave her another glare.

"Or not." Dawn shrugged and pulled a bottle from the bag. "Whatever. I'm tired of seeing you like this."

"...Can't help it, niblet. It just...it just hurts..."

A wave of sympathy went through her and she flashed him a tender smile. "You can talk to me, y'know."

Talk to his niblet about all those he murdered and ate for over a century? About the ecstasy of mindless brutality and railroad spikes through brains and making love to Dru on top of piles of corpses? Of dancing with his dark princess through the blood soaked fields of Belgium and the beaches of Normandy, feasting on the dying? Of forcing his body on the one person he loved most in the world?

He took another deep swallow of whiskey, then noticed the bottle in her hand.

"What's that?"

"I told you I couldn't take it any more." She waved the bottle in the direction of his head.

"You're gonna throw that at my head?"

"Your hair, dummy.".

"You're going to throw that at my hair?" He scowled and realized the booze was at last showing some effect.

Dawn gave him a look of total disgust. "It's bleach, you idiot. I'm going to bleach your hair. That floppy mousy blond-brown look has got to go."

"...Oh." Dimly Spike tried to remember why he liked his hair bleached. Something about...being a white-blond slaughterer of humanity?

"Deserve mousy blond-brown hair," he mumbled.

"Oh Jeez!"

"Don't swear."

"Fuck you."

Spike's eyes widened in shock. "Pet."

"Who taught me how to swear in ten different languages, half of them demon?"

The eyes went back to his black t-shirt as his chin thumped against his chest. "I'm a bad evil man."

"No, you're the Big Bad. Do you think that evil things are done only by the soulless? Get real, Spike. Humans kill all the time and learn to live with it. How can you be so guilt stricken anyway? It wasn't your soul who did those things. That's what's in control now, right? Your soul, returned from heaven or wherever?"

Logically he knew that what she said made sense, but it didn't help. Guilt was much more powerful than reason. "My soul is horrified by what my body and mind have done," he finally managed to get out.

"You have to look to the future, Spike. You've got this soul, now what are you going to do with it?"

"Brood."

"I can kick your ass now, you know. Buffy's been training me."

At *her* name, Spike visibly flinched and Dawn softened again, scooting over on the couch so that she was only a few feet from him. "She wants to talk to you, you know."

"Can't face her," he mumbled. "Can barely face you."

"Why? You never did anything bad to me."

"Shouldn't have to put up with an evil, horrible creature like me."

"You're not going to blubber again, are you?"

"Don't blubber," he spouted defensively.

"And I want to put up with you. I missed you all summer, you big idiot."

"Miss you, too, 'bit," Spike sighed helplessly. "That's why I had to come see you, even though I should have stayed away."

"And is it easier to stay away from her?"

"...No. It...kills me."

"Spike," Dawn said softly, "I know what you tried to do to Buffy." He gave her a look of absolute horror and shock, but she continued. "That was the demon. That's not you, anymore, and, anyway...you felt sorry, right?"

Spike nodded, his voice stuck in his throat with innumerable emotions.

"You didn't mean to hurt her, even before you got resouled. I believe that. I think Buffy does, too."

"No, she can't," he stammered. "I must never be forgiven."

"I didn't say she'd forgive you, but I believe you can get past it, learn to live with, and maybe even become friends."

He just shook his head mutely, and Dawn sighed.

"You've already done so much good, Spike, even if you can't admit it to yourself. Think about all the good you can do in the future, fighting at Buffy's side, protecting her."

The sad wistfulness in her voice brought his head up again. "'Bit?...Dawn?"

"How many times can she keep coming back, Spike? We got lucky last time. Next time...I want next time to be when she's old and gray and surrounded by cats." She reached out and brushed her fingers over the back of his hand, smiling gently. "And a never-aging vampire who loves her with all his heart and soul and will protect her with his own life. You'd do that, wouldn't you?"

"If...if she'd have me," Spike stammered, feeling a bit of his depression lift at the thought of helping Buffy survive. Helping instead of hurting...

"First step is sprucing you up a bit. I doubt she'd even recognize you, let alone talk to you."

"Still don't know if I can face her."

"We'll take it one step at a time." Dawn glanced at the bottle in her hand and squinted at the tiny directions. "How do you use this stuff?"

Spike felt himself almost smile, but ducked his head and reached for the bottle. "It's not hard."

"Life doesn't have to be either," she replied with a smile.

"You're going to make me keep going, aren't you."

Dawn's smile turned into a grin. "Yep."

Spike shook his head, but a slight smile finally broke free.

And Dawn beamed in delight.

End

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got this idea after first reading that Spike comes back with his hair all blond-brown and curly, and then seeing the commercial for the music thing where it's the normal bleached. Like Dawn, I need my Big Bad bleached. - Laure