Growing Pains

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG

Archive: If you already have my stuff, if not, just ask.

Disclaimer: I don't own Spike or Dawn. If I did, they'd all be happy campers right about now, and I would be rich.

Summary: Wherein I "fix" that conversation between Dawn and Spike during Seeing Red.

A/N: spikes_lady asked me to write this "fix," which I was more than happy to do, seeing as how my entire goal as a fanfic author is to make things better. So, this is me trying to make things a little better. Some of the dialog is taken straight from the episode.

Dawn was royally pissed off at Spike; not only had he stopped coming around lately, but he'd gone and slept with Anya. She had seen the expression on Buffy's face, and she'd known then that all the little signs she'd seen recently were true. There was something going on between her sister and the vampire, and Spike had slept with Buffy's friend.

Dawn was well-versed in the art of female politics; you never, ever slept with your girlfriend's (or boyfriend's) friends. Ever. That was one of the unforgivable sins.

Even though stopping by the crypt would probably be considered breaking the rules, she didn't care; Dawn had to see him. She had to know what on earth had led him to hurting Buffy.

Because that was the thing; Spike didn't hurt Buffy, and he didn't hurt her. It had been one of the few things that Dawn had been able to count on.

She opened the door and saw him, and a little bit of her anger drained away. Spike sat in a familiar position—slumped in his chair, a bottle of liquor in one hand, a glass of blood in the other. It was last summer all over again, when his grief was the twin of hers, and he was the only one she could trust.

What the hell had happened to them?

"Does it help?"

"Doesn't hurt." He half-turned in his chair. "Going on a camp-out?"

Dawn shook her head. "I'm sleeping over at Janice's. I thought Tara and Willow could use the time alone to—you know."

Spike snorted, his expression bitter. "So the lovebirds are back together, are they? Ain't love grand."

Dawn set her stuff down on the steps and moved further into the crypt, wrapping her arms around herself. "I just came by to... Everybody's really mad at you."

"Figured," Spike said, obviously trying to sound as though he didn't care, and not quite managing it.

"You're not going to be coming around anymore. Are you?"

"It's complicated, Nibblet."

Dawn couldn't take it anymore. "Everybody keeps saying that!" she exclaimed. "I think it's just because you don't want to explain how you screwed up!"

Spike stood up suddenly, muscles uncoiling, and she remembered why he was supposed to be scary; anger blazed in his eyes, but she stood her ground. "You ever think that maybe it's not about you? That maybe those of us in the know don't have a sodding clue as to what the hell we're doing? That maybe there isn't an explanation because we don't have one?"

"You slept with Anya!" Dawn accused. "You hurt Buffy!"

"She hurt me!" Spike shouted, and suddenly he wasn't scary-mad anymore; he was hurt, and Dawn could see the unshed tears in his eyes. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Dawn," Spike said, getting himself under control, his voice cold now. "So just sod off."

Spike had always talked to her like that, so Dawn wasn't at all fazed by his snarling. "It's true, then. You guys were together."

Spike's bark of laughter held no real humor. "We weren't together, and I'm not talking about this with you."

Dawn was beginning to get the uncomfortable feeling that she was in over her head, that everything she'd thought she'd known about the people she loved was false. Xander had hurt Anya, Buffy had hurt Spike, Spike and Anya had struck back by having sex with each other.

Except that it wasn't that simple.

"Why did you do it?" Dawn asked, her tone softer.

"Told you I wasn't talking about this with you."

"Spike..."

He shrugged, giving up under her persistence, the alcohol and his own pain loosening his tongue. "We were both hurting, we'd been drinking, and it just—it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Dawn swallowed. It hadn't been about Buffy, then, or Xander, other than at the most basic level, where they had both needed something. She was just now beginning to understand how that might work. "Do you love her?"

Spike shook his head. "No, it was just—a night. A moment."

"Not Anya, Buffy," Dawn corrected.

Spike gave her a look—the one that told her she was asking a stupid question. "What do you think?"

Dawn honestly didn't know what to think. Spike loved Buffy, but he had slept with Anya. Weren't sex and love supposed to go together? How could you have sex with one person and love someone else at the same time?

All she knew for sure at the moment was that Buffy had been hurt by Spike's actions—just as Spike had apparently been hurt by whatever Buffy had done.

Dawn had come to Spike's crypt in search of a villain; what she'd found was a man with his own side of the story.

Maybe this was what they meant when they talked about how hard it was to grow up.

Not knowing what else to say, Dawn motioned to the crypt's door with her head. "I have to go. Janice is expecting me."

Spike glanced up at the darkened window. "I'll walk you."

"Okay."

They walked in silence; Dawn was still trying to process it all. "How'd you find out?" Spike asked after a few minutes. "Buffy tell you?"

"Huh?"

"About me and Anya," he clarified.

Dawn shook her head. "No, I kind of caught the show. Warren and his goons had cameras set up all over the place, and..."

"Wankers," Spike spat.

She grimaced. "Pretty much."

Another silence fell, and Dawn thought that it felt like the absence of words, like they had nothing more to say to one another, because it had already been said. They arrived in front of Janice's house too soon and not soon enough.

"Look," Spike said, as she stood there, trying to figure out how to say goodbye. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for hurting you, for hurting Buffy," he explained. "It wasn't what I wanted. I just—needed something."

Dawn saw it in his eyes—the hurt, the longing, the anger. He was just a man, that's all—even if he was a vampire.

There were no idols in her life, no perfect people. She should know that by now.

She sighed. "It's okay. I think I get it, at least a little."

Spike nodded. "Have fun, Bit."

As he turned to go, Dawn felt compelled to call him back. "Spike!"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"It's not the end." She didn't know if he would understand what she meant by that, but she didn't know how else to say it. Dawn didn't know how else to tell him that things could still get better, no matter how impossible that might seem at the moment.

Spike's expression was grateful, but unconvinced. "Maybe not. I'll see you around."

It was a promise; Dawn planned on making sure he kept it. Maybe this was what getting older was all about: accepting that the people she thought she could count on would still screw up on a regular basis.

Turning to go inside Janice's house, Dawn wished that someone had told her how much growing up sucked sometimes.