Sproingy

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anyone. Just this very strange little plot.

Summary: During the summer after Buffy sacrificed her life for Dawn, the grieving Scoobies finally stage an intervention to deal with Spike's excessive sproinging. Set sometime between the end of season 5 and the beginning of season 6 and inspired by the first episode of season 7.

…

Spike followed Dawn as she made her way through the dark streets of Sunnydale. He didn't particularly feel like hanging out at the Bronze, but his nibblet was determined to temporarily mask her sorrows with a spot of fun, and he couldn't deny her that. Couldn't deny her much of anything after he'd spectacularly failed to protect her. A failure that had led to his slayer's death.

He sucked in an unneeded breath as if it would somehow ward him against the memory of Buffy's plummet, raising a hand to run through short, platinum tipped brown curls. While he'd kept up with basic hygiene, he hadn't seen much point in anything beyond that and had allowed himself to get a bit unkempt.

"Spike?" Dawn's sudden light grasp on his other hand pulled him from his thoughts before they could travel down the same dark path they've tread for the past sixty-four days. Every night, he saved her in his head. Every night, he was just a hair quicker, just a shade stronger, just a… a something… somethingy-er. And he was able to keep his promise. He kept Doc from spilling Dawn's blood, and Buffy didn't have to die.

"Spike?" Dawn repeated, gentle concern in her voice.

"Sorry, Bit," he muttered, dropping the hand in his hair back down to his side. "Just spaced a bit 's'all."

They continued on toward the Bronze, the girl's warm hand still loosely curled around his ice cold fingers, as if they were some sort of talisman that would protect her. Protect. That was a laugh. His name, the one he'd been born with, meant protector. God knew he'd tried, but he'd never quite been able to live up to it. Not with Dru, not with Dawn, and not with Buffy.

Dawn looked up at him and opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it and looked down. A moment later, she was looking back up at him again, her gaze fixed on his hair. "I… I went to the store today and got that bleaching kit you like."

" 'Preciate it, but not much time these days to waste on primpin', yeah?"

"Spike, Tara says…." She trailed off and looked down once more as the vampire's gaze focused fully on her. She took a deep breath and tilted her face back up, a fake smile plastered across it. "L-let's just get to the Bronze. I think we could both use a good dose of fun."

They traveled the rest of the way in a silence that wasn't broken until they opened the doors and stepped into the club. The rest of the Scoobies – minus Giles – were already there, settled in a comfy seating area. Spike could have easily broken away from Dawn and gone to lurk in the shadows, watching over her while not interacting, but he let her drag him to her friends. Not his friends. Never his friends. Maybe, if he hadn't been a bloody useless git and had kept his promise….

Red's witch smiled shyly at him as Dawn pushed him into a seat before plopping down beside him. Her hand was still wrapped around his, tighter now, to the point that it would have cut off a human's circulation.

"What exactly is going on here?" Spike asked slowly. Harris was scowling at him – not much different there – but Red was trying to mimic her girl's expression, and Anya's face was practically distorted by the huge, fake smile spread across it.

There was an exchange of glances followed by Tara licking her lips nervously. "W-we… Look, Spike- "

"Tara, Dawn and Willow are worried about you, and Xander is irritated because he keeps getting distracted by your sproingy bits during patrols," Anya interrupted matter-of-factly.

"Anya!" Xander and Willow yelled in unison while Tara and Dawn tried to smother sudden giggles.

Spike smirked and raised a brow as he eyed Harris. "Well, I'm an open-minded kinda bloke, and not exactly afraid of a bit of experimentation, but you really aren't my type."

Dawn finally let go of Spike's hand, but he was too distracted by the amusing image of the other man turning purple to notice until her hand entered his immediate field of vision and reached to carefully grab a brown and white curl.

"Um, sproing?" she said, pulling it straight, then letting it go.

Spike blinked and looked at the assembled group incredulously. He suddenly knew what this was. He'd seen this before on the telly. "You lot've staged an inter-bloody-vention because you don't like my hair?"

"You look like a sheep!" Xander exploded. "A demented, two-toned death sheep. I can handle being laughed at for my own charming bumbling, but I refuse to be mocked for hunting vamps and demons with a demented death sheep."

He got up and stalked away, Anya flashing her big fake smile one more time before hurrying off after him. Before Spike could follow, Tara leaned forward and took his hands in her, gazing at him earnestly.

"I-it'd be okay. If you just wanted a different look. I-I mean, it's cute, for a guy. I like sheep. Th-they're c-cute. A-a-and fluffy. N-not that I think you're fu-fluffy." Her stammering got worse as the vampire continued to just stare at her. She took a deep breath, glanced at Willow for an encouraging nod, and continued. "This… this isn't changing your look. It's not caring enough to take care of yourself. You're thinner than you should be, and there's m-more blood in the fridge than-than there should be."

Spike pulled away from her, folding his arms across his chest and refusing to make eye contact. "Just haven't been in the mood to…" he mumbled. " 'Sides, 's'not exactly easy to get a bloody haircut and dye job with no reflection."

No one bothered to point out that he'd done it many times before this with no problems. Tara just flashed him her shy smile again. "I could help you. I-i-if you wanted."

Spike sighed and glanced at Dawn. "You got the brand I like? Not some cheap rubbish?"

"Nope. I got the good stuff."

"Yeah, well, if my hair turns green, chip or no chip, I'll find a way to eat you, Nibblet," Spike grumped, getting to his feet. He took a few steps towards the door, then looked over his shoulder.

He still hurt, every part of him grieving for Buffy, and he knew he'd keep counting the days and reliving that night in his mind, but maybe…. Maybe the Scoobies would make a little place for him. Not one of them. Never one of them. But maybe he just wiggle in and feel like he was part of something. Maybe it would even help.