Author's Note: This is a Spike/Tara friendship that becomes Spuffy eventually.
Spike had run out of Jack Daniels somewhere between the Mississippi border and the crappy one-gas station town he was in now. He was starting to sober up and it wasn't pleasant. The Desoto was a mess of empty liquor bottles and cigarette cartons.
The one vice he hadn't fed since leaving Drusilla in Brazil was blood. His stomach snarled a riot of noises that put the Sex Pistols to shame. The KKK town would have to be his drive through.
Wandering through a pathetic excuse for a graveyard, he stumbled upon a pair of lovers coupling madly in the bushes. It was almost beautiful really. Like a horror movie, he thought as he drained them without taking pleasure in the act, they die for the sin of fornication and all the good little virgins get to live. He tossed the bodies aside casually and stumbled through the churchyard.
* * *
Tara knew full well it was foolish to be out after dark. But she was safer out here than at home and it was much easier to think of being hurt by a total stranger than by family. Her mother's grave was well tended. She visited it everyday after school to lay new flowers and have a few words with the only person to ever give her any kindness.
She was laying out sage and lavender smudge sticks to assure the sanctity of the grave when a presence made itself known to her right. She jerked back in surprise at the man's proximity and let out a startled shriek.
“Easy now, Glinda.” The man had his hands stuff deeply in the pockets of a well-worn black leather duster. His hair was bleached and it gleamed in the moonlight. All in all, Tara thought, he looked like the definition of bad news, the very opposite of her father and brother, who had worn their Sunday best to church just that morning. Maybe not a lot could be judged by appearances.
“W-w-what do you w-w-want?” Tara asked nervously, cursing her stuttering affliction as it made her sound like a fearful child and not a young woman of seventeen.
“Got a spell that needs doing. Saw you here with your herbs and dirt and figured you might help me out.” Spike shifted feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. Her fear bothered him for no reason that he could discern. He'd almost tripped over her in truth and the idea for the love spell had just occurred to him from absolutely nowhere.
She stared at him for a few seconds. He was a vampire. That she could tell from his aura. But it was the most unusual aura she'd ever seen. Vampires were pale imitation of people in the life force and they had auras in sickly, unnatural colors. But his, his was vibrant and it made her blink to look directly at it.
Spike asked her later what made her say what she said next. She never had a proper answer. She didn't know where the courage came from, but she knew it was inspired by his presence.
“I'll do your spell, if you do something for me.” She said finally, gathering up her smudge sticks and directing the words at the ground.
“What do you want, pet?”
Tara took a deep breath, “I want you to take me as far away from this town as you can.”
Spike lit up a cigarette and snapped the Zippo closed with flourish, “Done.”
* * *
The adrenaline made her dizzy, her hands wouldn't stop shaking and they couldn't fit the key in the lock. The vampire next to her snorted at her movements and took the key chain from her finally. The house was silent and she stepped across the threshold. Swallowing thickly, she turned back to the man with her and muttered a quiet, 'Come in.'
“My father's room is at the end of the hall s-s-so try to keep it down.” She whispered as he followed her up the stairs.
The vampire didn't comment on her obvious fear, or that she was much more afraid of the man in the room down the hall than the bloodsucker at her back. The bedroom was sweetly decorated with fabric ends and gathered wildflowers. It smelled of incense and power. Spike found he liked it, though it was a bit strong.
He hushed those troubling thoughts at once. This was for Dru. This bird was only the vessel he would use to make her love him again. She'd cast the spell, he'd take her to bleeding Texas if that's where she wanted to go, and he'd high-tail it back to the arms of his lover where he belonged. There should be no worrying about what makes her afraid or how nice her space smells.
Tara's mind was swirling with thoughts. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this. She was running away. Leaving this house and all it's scary door hinge noises and violent outbursts. She stared down at her bed for a split second. She would never lie there again. He would never hurt her there again.
“Pet, we don't have all night. Pack up. We need to make the next state line by sunrise, remember?”
The vampire's words jolted her into action, and she swept her miniscule wardrobe into the battered suitcase that had laid under the bed all her life, as if in wait for this moment. She froze and touched her mother's books and magic equipment, “I need to take all this-“
Spike rolled his eyes impatiently and bent down to help her gather it all up, “There's a trunk in the corner, isn't there? We'll throw it all in that.” Spike helped her pile item after item in the huge black steamer trunk, and then snapped it closed and hefted up the eighty-pound thing one shoulder with ease.
Tara's knees trembled as she picked up the suitcase. She wanted to be in another state already. She wanted to be in another country already. There were footsteps in the hall and Tara bolted up like a startled deer. Spike was unmoved.
“What the Hell is goin' on here?” Her father's voice thundered like the voice of God on Mount Sinai. Though, Tara was quite confidant God didn't use the word 'Hell' or speak in a Southern drawl.
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