(Author's Note: I'm sorry have haven't reponded to my lovely reviewers, I love you all for dropping me a line. Max, you seem to have read my mind. It's freaking me out. Are you channelling my muse, perhaps? Anyway, I'm trying to figure out how this site works, it's giving me some trouble and everything I go to click on jumps about ... Oh, well, read on..)
Spike was figuratively dragging his feet. Tara knew that and Spike knew that. It had taken them more than a month to get to California when the trip should have taken a little over a week.
Now that they were in the state, he seemed to find an endless array of distractions. First he suggested they visit the Salinas Valley because Tara had gone through a John Steinbeck phase a while back and she should see what he was writing about.
Then he had insisted she had to see San Francisco because Alcatraz was so interesting.
Tara had originally wanted to be in Sunnydale by the beginning of August to settle in before the semester began, but she was patient and had faith in her friend. No matter how little he wanted to get to their destination, she knew he wouldn't let her miss out on the classes she was so excited about taking.
And they were in Los Angeles on time anyway Tara reflected picking at Spike's Unagi. The little sushi place had beckoned to Spike apparently, and Tara, since trying the Japanese dish in San Francisco, wasn't likely to turn down a California Roll and some Gomaae.
Spike had even gone so far as to suggest they drop in on Angel in the Hyperion Hotel when Tara put her foot down.
But he worried her. She knew there was no love lost between he and his grand-sire. For him to want to see the other vampire in an effort to avoid the Hellmouth said volumes at how much he wanted to stay away.
But he was pressing on and she was proud of him. He had made the last year or so all about her. He deserved something of his own and Tara made a silent vow to make it up to him.
* * *
It was Tara who guided the Desoto the last twenty miles to the Hellmouth. One of the first things Spike had taught her was how to drive, though she preferred to be a passenger. Right now he seemed to need sometime to think things over and she was happy to make the sacrifice.
Tara flipped on the radio and fiddled around until she found a station playing Johnny Cash's Folsam Prison Blues. She was pleased because this was one of Spike's favorite songs. One his favorites that didn't involve Sid Vicious' limited bass capacity, anyway.
She glanced over at him when he started singing softly. His head rested against the window pane. Where his reflection should have been, highway signs flickered by uninterrupted. He didn't look cheered up. His singing took on a more mournful tone than she was used to.
“I hear the train a'coming, a'coming 'round the bend. I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when…”
Tara bit her lip as they came to the Welcome to Sunnydale sign. Spike increased his volume.
“I'm stuck in Folsam Prison and time keeps draggin' on. And that train keeps a'rollin' on down to San Anton.
“When I was a baby, my mama told me, 'Son, always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns. But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die…”
His voice made her want to cry all of a sudden. Spike could always convey emotion well when he sang and his voice was good if a little short on range. But the way he was singing now made Tara want to do a sharp u-turn and take them right out of this place that was making him sad.
But she made herself keep driving.
When the song finally came to an end, Spike turned to her, “That's how I felt, pet. When I was in that chair. It was like being locked inside your own body. Helpless. Angelus would-“
He stopped suddenly. Tara got some truly horrible mental images and was suddenly glad he hadn't continued. And then she felt guilty for that. Spike always listened to her no matter how awful what she had to tell him was.
“I'm sorry I made you come back here.” Tara wiped a few stray tears away and parked the car in the Sunnydale Motor Inn parking lot.
“'S not your fault, love. Besides, it's all in the past. Maybe it's time I stopped running and just got over it.”
'But you would never make me go back to Mississippi', Tara thought, 'You would never tell me to “just get over it”'.
“And you need this schooling bit. I promised you the Sorbon and Oxford but if you really want this crappy little school you'll have it.” Spike rifled through the glove compartment and pulled out a crumbled pack of Canadian cigarettes and his battered Zippo.
Tara felt a fresh wave of guilt. Spike had cut back severely on his smoking when her asthma had given her a coughing fit early in their relationship. He only smoked now when he was seriously upset and needed something to calm his frazzled nerves.
Tara watched him get out of the car and light up. He paced the length of the parking lot for a few minutes, a whirlwind of twitchy energy. His aura was shifting and crackling and Tara had to avert her eyes from the brightness of the flare-ups.
* * *
When they got settled into the room, Spike kept talking about how he knew so many of the underground tunnels in Sunnydale he could join her tomorrow and they could buy her books at the campus store and maybe pick her out a laptop. He kept moving around the room and it was making Tara dizzy.
“Why don't we do a calming spell and just relax for a little while.” She suggested quietly, knowing full well he was going to agree to whatever she wanted.
They sat across from each other and Tara lit a white candle in between them. She laid out her hands palm up and Spike rested his hands on hers.
The ritual soothed him enough for Tara to bully him into bed. She curled up next to him and felt his body relax as sleep took over. He'd been manic too long to keep going. Tara reminded herself to find the butcher shop as early as possible tomorrow. Besides the sushi, Spike hadn't eaten in a while and he was sure to get cranky.
The thought made her smile. He could be a bit like a toddler sometimes. You had to remind him to eat when he got nervous or excited and you had to make him go to bed because he'd keep going until he dropped otherwise.
She reached over and smoothed out his curls, he whimpered in his sleep and nuzzled into her hand like a big cat. A fresh wave of tenderness made Tara's eyes prickle. No one would hurt him again when she was on watch. A fierce protectiveness forged out of the previous year's intense bonding swelled in her breast. Oh, no. He would be safe and she would keep him so.
No matter what it took.
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