All About Spike - Dippity-Dork by Ozfan

Dippity-Dork
By Ozfan

NOTE: this is a parody fic.

I'll be around when every candle burns down low
And I want you, I want you to know...

One day Spike woke up with a soul. No moment of happiness after a Buffy boink a la his grandsire, just a bloody loose eyelash. A sodding wish on a sodding eyelash and TA DA, faster than you can say washboard abs, he had a bloody soul. He remembered all the bad things he did, and he felt bad. Real bad. Right crummy. Especially about the whole pimp daddy chain phase he went through. He wanted to go and apologize, but all his victims were, well, dead. Plus, now that he had a soul, he wouldn't bloody eat people anymore. After a few intense minutes of thought he shrugged and started watching the telly. Then after another few minutes Spike began to panic. Buffy would never love 'im if he didn't wallow in misery over past vampiric sins. But HOW??

Suddenly he grinned. Only one person who could teach 'im....

*******

"Pay attention!" Angel smacked Spike on the head because he was too busy changing channels to find Passions.

"Ow! Bloody 'ell, you big POOFTAH." Spike said.

"Look, you came to me to learn how to redeem yourself. How to atone. Now that you have a soul you have to learn this stuff."

Spike sighed and lit up a cigarette. The puffy poofter had a point. Spike had come to L.A. with an offer Angel couldn't bloody refuse. Spike would become Angel's personal trainer if Angel would show him how to brood broodily whilst helping his fellow man. Or woman. Or kitten stuck up a tree, whatever.

"Okay, first things first. Hair gel." Angel rushed over to his dresser and opened a drawer, revealing a full range of hair products.

"Now, this stuff..." Angel pulled out a blue plastic bottle and spoke seriously. "This is Dippity-Do. Cheap as hell, easily accessible. Use this for day-to-day stuff, especially if your business isn't doing really well and you need to save money."

Spike gritted his teeth, but nodded.

Angel grinned like a dork and held up a hand. "Now, this... THIS stuff..." He pulled out a white jar. "This is Sebastian pomade. Much better consistency and scent than your average drugstore brand hair gel. This is the creme de la crop. Here. Try some. Be gentle with it. Watch me." Angel took a glob and started playing with his bangs. As he was lost in hair gel bliss, Spike rubbed his eyes, annoyed. Cor, he thought to himself. Granted, his own peroxide fixation wasn't exactly normal either, but this was bloody ridiculous. And he was missing Passions. For this. Bloody, sodding, stupid soul!

"Okay, let's go grab a pint of blood and move onto the next topic. Brooding." Angel slapped Spike on the arm and grinned. Spike looked down at the residual hair gel on his t-shirt and realized he could technically still kill Angel. He could. Maybe after the pint of blood.

****

"Thanks, Cordelia," Angel said to, well, obviously, he said it to Cordelia, who had just served them fresh mugs of warm blood. Spike watched as Cordy and Angel kept making googly eyes at each other. Cor, it was disgusting to look at. Is that what he did with Buffy? Did they have zero chemistry like those two? And what had she done to her hair?

"Mmm, with a hint of cinammon, just the way I like it. Thanks, Cordy," Angel said, smiling up at her.

"You're welcome. And it's very nice to see you, Spike," Cordy said nicely before floating away. The back of her shirt said, "I'm A Champion. Ask Me How!" in bright gold letters.

"What the hell 'appened to 'er? Why is she so bloody nice an' borin'?" Spike snarled sexily.

Angel wiggled his eyebrows and grinned as though he were trying out for The Biggest Tool in America award. "Spike, people can change. Even vampires. People can grow, become better, nicer."

Spike's head was beginning to pound. Cor, if only that bint Elizabeth Anne Summers were here to hear that. "Right. So, on with the brooding lesson."

"Okay. First, you have way too many expressions. Be expressionless. Come on, you're dead, it should be easy. Stop emoting so much. And furrow your brow. More. Furrow! And be quiet a lot."

"Right," Spike said, then got bored and started fantasizing about Buffy and grinned slyly. Angel slapped him on the head again.

"Bloody STOP hitting me! Cor!"

"Well, you can't grin like that. Just, kind of, look dully off into space. Think about something boring."

Spike sighed and tried. He thought about Angel and Cordelia in a romantic capacity and it worked. He got bored as hell. They worked for a good hour on brooding.

Spike looked at his watch. It was getting late, and he had to get back home. Angel was babbling about feeling compassion for his fellow man and forming bonds and yada yada yada, when suddenly a pale bespectacled man with a brace on his neck walked in. Angel suddenly vamped out and, grabbing a pillow off a couch, flew at the guy.

"You fucker! I'm gonna kill you this time! ARGH!!!" Angel screamed while he smothered the poor defenseless guy with the pillow. Spike found himself tearing Angel off the guy, which wasn't an easy feat considering Angel had put on a few pounds since he had moved to L.A.

"Hey, hey! Calm the hell down! You're getting spit everywhere, mate!" Spike said, shoving Angel to the other side of the room. "And what about all that compassion, forming bonds, blah blah humanity cakes??"

"He took my baby! And now my baby is trapped in a hell dimension!!" Angel roared angrily. Spike tilted his head to one side. Angel was so much more fun to be around when he was like this, but still, he felt bad for the guy lying on the floor. Then he paused.

"Wait, what? You have a child? Does Buffy know?"

"Who?" Angel said. Spike threw his hands in the air in disgust.

"Right, then. I give up! You're no help to me, Angel. This place is crazy. Come on." Spike gave the guy with the neck issues a hand up. "Let's get you home."

"AAARRGGH!!" Angel began hitting Wesley over the head with a pillow. Fred and Gunn came traipsing down the stairs shoving pancakes in each others' mouths and then shouting "Pancake kiss!" when they heard the commotion.

"OOH! Pillow fight! Yay!" Fred babbled before grabbing a pillow and hitting Wesley with it too. Spike and Wesley ran out the door, and Spike got him safely home. He drove back to Sunnydale as quick as he could. So he didn't have the whole brooding, remorseful thing down. And his hair couldn't stick straight up. Spike was going to do this whole soul thing HIS way.

When every moment gets too hard
And though the road can feel so far
No matter how much time we're apart
I'm always near you
I'll be the shelter in your rain
Help you to find your smile again
I'll make you laugh at a broken heart
Wherever you are

When he got back to his crypt, Buffy was there, pacing restlessly. He grinned when he saw here, suddenly realizing one good thing about having a soul.

"Hello, pet," he purred like a big sexy kitty cat. Buffy twirled, golden tresses flying around her magestically.

"Spike!" Buffy's eyes widened. "I thought you were dead!"

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Around here we just assume stupid things until proven otherwise." Buffy flew into Spike's arms and hugged him, and then kneed him in the groin.

"OW! What the bloody 'ell was that for?"

"For making me scared for you! I care about your well-being Spike. Do you realize how ridiculous that is? You're a bad man. A bad, evil, albeit exceptionally well-endowed, THING. And here I am worried to death about you because I couldn't find you all night." Her mouth pouted and tears fell down her cheek.

"Aw, pet, you wouldn't believe me if I told you where I was, what happened to me."

"Yeah, yeah, cut the jabber, I have sexual needs that only you can fill." Buffy flung herself on top of Spike.

"No, wait. I have to tell you something. I, uh, I have a soul now."

"How nice," Buffy said, ribbing his fugly shirt off him and licking his cool bare neck like a lollipop.

Spike tried to continue. "I made a wish on a loose eyelash, and instead of, you know, wishing for world peace, or Dawn to be dead, I bloody wished I had a soul, and..."

"Get out!" Buffy said.

"'S true, Pet! Watch! I'll show you!" Spike put on his leather duster and sulked around the crypt, frowning slightly, looking bored.

"Oh. My. God," Buffy whispered. "It's true. You are so totally on the road to redemption."

Spike grinned. "Told ya! So... maybe... y'know, one day, if I do a lot of good deeds and help poor wankers out and, uh, you know, not kill anyone, maybe we could go out sometime?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "You mean, like on a date?"

Spike shrugged. "Well. Yeah. Wanna do this right. I love you, Buffy. Always 'ave. I'll show you I'm worthy. But I'd like to get to know you. You Buffy. Not you the Slayer. And if I may quote the illustrious Amy Grant:

"I'm never gonna walk away
If the walls come down someday
All alone and you feel afraid
I'll be there when you call my name
You can always depend on me
I believe
Until forever ends
I will be your friend."

"Oh, Spike!" Buffy gushed, running to him as christian rock music swelled around them. They hugged platonically and went out for a friendly game of mini golf, under the light of a lovely full moon.