Useless Desires

By Enigmatic Blue

Chapter 1

“These are the tears of things, and the stuff of our mortality cuts us to the heart.” ~Virgil

Spike ran over the “Welcome to Sunnydale” sign because it was tradition at this point. In the past it had been because it looked like fun, or because he was drunk, or the previous time because he wanted to point out that he was back in town to anyone who cared. (No one really had.)

This time, however, there was no more Slayer to care, no one to notice except for the rather inept Sunnydale PD. Tim got a laugh out of it, however, so maybe that was something.

His companion looked around at the dimly lit streets as Spike pointed the nose of the Mustang towards the Magic Box. “Doesn’t look like much.”

“It’s not,” Spike agreed. He had no problem remembering where to go. Everything about this little hellhole had been burned on his brain, never to be forgotten.

Tim glanced over at the vampire. “So, what? We’re here to see the grave of some dead chick, and then do…what?”

“She’s not ‘some dead chick,’” Spike replied as evenly as he could, although a thin thread of anger could be heard in his voice. “She was the Slayer—the best that ever lived.”

Tim frowned, hearing in Spike’s voice something he’d never heard before. “You’re in love with her.”

“I was.”

The young man decided not to argue verb tenses. “Yeah, okay. But then what?”

“What’s the problem?” Spike asked, looking over at him. “You got somewhere to be?”

Tim shrugged. “No, it’s just—Forget it.”

“Not goin’ to forget it,” Spike replied. “Something’s botherin’ you.”

“You think we could maybe stay somewhere for a while?” Tim asked. “Not forever, maybe, but—we’ve been going for weeks now.”

Spike had to acknowledge the truth of that statement. They’d been on the move almost constantly for the last three years, going from place to place without any goal in mind. The vampire had to admit that he didn’t think the boy would stick it out with him for this long, but Tim was a trooper, and had for some reason attached himself like a limpet.

It had been decidedly odd for Spike to find that he had an innate need to take care of something or someone. He’d found himself collecting strays—the odd cat here, a stray dog there. There was never any formal arrangement, but he left food out for them, and they in turn followed him around.

Of course, when it was time to move on, it was infinitely easier to leave the cats and dogs behind than it was a human stray.

But Spike didn’t mind Tim’s company so much. They liked the same kinds of music and the same kinds of video games. Plus, it was nice to have someone to talk to over the long miles. Driving down the East coast, through Florida and along the Gulf of Mexico, then across the Southwest to California—even the most interesting of scenery got boring after a while. Especially when most of the time you’re driving after dark by necessity.

It was while they were in New Orleans that they heard the news. Spike actually liked it there—plenty of things to do, places to get lost in. There were demons to swindle and damsels to save, and a few of those women had welcomed him with open arms and rounded softness.

It was a way to forget.

Five months, and no thoughts of moving on, until the word had come—been whispered in back alleys and demon bars—the Slayer was dead. Both of them.

Spike had found Tim and gave him the choice of staying. He wasn’t surprised when the boy had simply started packing, in spite of the crowd of friends he’d found.

For whatever reason, the boy had decided that Spike meant home, and where Spike went he followed. Human strays weren’t so different after all.

So they’d headed out for Sunnydale, California, two guys and a yellow dog Tim had named Luz. Spike had tried to explain that one didn’t name stray animals, mostly because it usually meant you were going to keep them, and they couldn’t. Tim, as usual, did what he wanted, and Luz was not left behind.

Which was why Spike was returning to a town he hated with a young man and a dog in tow.

They wouldn’t stay here, he knew. All he wanted was to visit Buffy’s grave, to whisper his farewell, to tell her he was sorry for not coming back. He’d thought—never mind what he thought. It had been for the best. That much he was certain of.

Maybe L.A., Spike thought to himself, as he pulled up outside the Magic Box. Or they could go farther north, up the coast to San Francisco or even father to Seattle or Portland. The hazy weather was a vampire’s dream climate. He could see Tim settled, maybe convince him to go back to school. The kid was smart when he wanted to be.

They could have a life. Tim deserved it.

Spike could hardly bear to think it, but he could move on now that Buffy was dead. The holding pattern was over; there was no hope for the future. He would see her final resting place, and he would leave his useless desires there.

It was time.

~~~~~

Tim wasn’t sure what the big deal was about Sunnydale. Spike had been hell-bent on getting to the small town from the moment he’d heard the news that the girl with the strange name had died. Seriously, who named their kid Buffy?

Spike wouldn’t say much about Sunnydale, no matter how many questions he asked. All Spike would say was that he’d spent the worst years of his unlife there and not to ask so many questions.

There had to be something good that happened, though, for the vampire to want to get back so badly to see somebody’s grave. Spike hadn’t even said anything about her until he’d found out she was dead, and then it was only that he had to go and did Tim want to come?

He’d laughed at the question, then he’d started to pack.

There were two things that Tim was certain of: life sucked—and life was better while he was around Spike.

One thing was for sure at least. No one tried to mess with him anymore. That alone would persuade him to stay.

Besides, Spike needed him.

Even though the vampire hadn’t been very positive about his experiences in Sunnydale, Tim was still unprepared for the reception they got when they walked through the door of the Magic Box.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The speaker was tall, dark haired, and kind of meaty. If Tim had to make a guess, he’d say the guy was in construction or one of the trades. He was also advancing on the two of them with a stake in hand.

Surprisingly, Spike didn’t move a muscle. “Xander.”

Tim frowned, waiting for the vampire to say something—do something. Surely he wasn’t going to just stand there and let the guy stake him.

“Why the hell did you have to come back?” Xander asked bitterly. “Couldn’t you have done us all a favor and stayed away?”

Spike shrugged, just a small movement. “I heard about Buffy. I wanted to pay my respects.”

The sneer on Xander’s face was ugly. “Well, you came, you paid them, now you can take your friend and leave. You’re not welcome here.”

“I want to see her grave,” Spike said stolidly.

“So you can dance on it?” Xander demanded, his voice shaky, angry, icy with grief. “Forget it, Spike. Just get out of town.”

Tim watched as a muscle in Spike’s jaw jumped, and then he gave a tight nod and turned to go. The boy was flabbergasted. He was used to people giving him the cold shoulder when he entered a shop. Used to being followed around by the employees for fear that he was going to carry off their goods because of the way he looked. Spike, of the two of them, got more respect, more deference—except, obviously, for this little hellhole of a town.

Grabbing Spike’s arm, Tim shook his head. “Spike! We just drove five days to get here so you could see this girl’s grave! You aren’t going to let this idiot chase you off, right?”

“Let it go, Tim,” Spike commanded quietly.

Xander laughed. It was not a nice sound. “I see it’s not only the ladies you can charm, William.”

There was innuendo there, and while it was aimed mostly at Spike for whatever history lay between the two men, Tim saw red. “You don’t know jack-shit about this!” he burst out angrily. “You don’t know sod-all about us, either! You can keep your dirty mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for you!”

“Tim, lad, it’s okay,” Spike said quietly, trying to calm him, the same voice he had when the nightmares got bad. When he’d bathed his hurts that day—“Whelp’s just mouthin’ off to me. ‘s nothin’ to do with you.”

Xander seemed taken aback by this (obviously) human boy’s rage. He was himself a little crazy from grief and guilt and so he spoke again when he should have kept his mouth shut. “You want to try something? You think Spike’s gonna be able to help you against a human? I’ll wipe the floor with you, you little—”

Whatever else he might have said was cut off by a strong hand closing over his throat. Xander hadn’t even seen Spike move. “You touch a hair on the boy’s head and I’ll have your balls in my hand,” the vampire said quietly. “Chip’s gone, Harris. Nothing is stoppin’ me from rippin’ out your soddin’ throat right now.”

Spike released the other man impatiently. “Look, Whelp, I know you hate me. Just tell me where she is an’ we’ll be out of your hair. Preferably by sun-up.”

Tim and Spike both often wondered what might have happened if Xander had simply told them—if they had left just a few moments earlier.

Fate can be a tricky bitch at times.



Chapter 2

“Death is more universal than life. Everyone dies; not everyone lives.” ~A. Sachs

For just a split second, Spike thought it was her. Of course, her hair was a brighter gold, her form more slender, shorter. The vampire had been seeing her on every street corner, in the face of every blonde woman who passed by.

It was only a split second since she had never greeted him that kindly. “Spike! It’s good to see you again.”

The funny thing was, Tara actually sounded as though she meant it. Which made Spike glad to see her, even though he hadn’t given the woman a second thought since leaving Sunnydale. “Glinda. You’re lookin’ good.”

“Spike, you—” Xander was interrupted by Tara’s calm voice.

“Thank you for coming by tonight, Xander, but I think I’ll let Spike walk me home.”

Spike wasn’t sure if he or Xander were more surprised by Tara’s statement. The vampire wasn’t certain that he wanted to walk anyone home. Xander knew he didn’t want to leave Tara at the mercy of an unchipped vampire. “Tara, I don’t think—”

“I do,” Tara said, her voice firm. Spike could hear a thin thread of steel that he’d never heard in her before. “I’ll see you soon, Xander.”

Things had changed in Sunnydale, that much was obvious when Xander nodded shortly and left. Tara turned to look at Spike. “How are you?”

Spike shrugged. “Well as can be expected.” Remembering his manners—the few that he had, at least—he jerked his head towards Tim. “This is Tim. Friend of mine. Tim, this is Tara.”

To Tim’s surprise, the woman held out her hand, giving him a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” She refocused on Spike. “Do you want to see her?”

The vampire didn’t ask how she knew; Tara was a sharp one, he’d always known that. “Be nice.”

There was little conversation on the way to the gravesite. In a town the size of Sunnydale, the trip only took a few moments anyway. Tim sensed Spike’s need for stillness, as did Tara, and both respected that in their own way.

Spike parked the car and then they walked the rest of the way to the grave, both the vampire and Tim carrying stakes. The other two hung back as Spike approached the tombstone, switching the weapon from his left to his right hand.

They had buried her beside her mother, Spike realized. It was significant, since last time the grave had been secret, tucked away. This time it was out in the open, public—a tacit acknowledgement that the Slayer would not be coming back. With reverent fingers, he traced the letters of her name, the dates that marked the beginning and end of her life. He murmured his goodbye, barely aware of the words he spoke.

Spike remembered everything—every word, every act. He had lived for this woman, and now she was gone. Even though it had been years since he’d seen her, there was still an emptiness now that he knew she was gone permanently.

A wet nose nudged itself under his hand, and Spike turned to look at Luz, who whined as though sensing his mood. Spike sighed and scratched behind her ears. “Yeah,” he murmured, touching the tombstone in a final benediction. “’s time to go.”

Tara spoke as he stood. “Do you have a place to stay tonight, Spike?”

“Thought ‘bout getting a hotel room.” The vampire shrugged. “Wasn’t plannin’ on stayin’ in town all that long.”

She smiled at him. “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight? I have a spare room, and the couch is comfortable.”

“What about Luz?” Tim asked.

“Luz is welcome,” Tara replied. “I don’t have a cat at the moment, so it should be fine.”

~~~~~

Spike sat at Tara’s kitchen table and watched her make tea. Tim had been yawning in the car on the way over, and so he’d taken the guest room, Luz curling up on the floor next to his bed. The witch had offered him tea, and Spike had accepted. He found himself hungry for news, wanting to know what exactly had happened to the Slayer.

She placed a cup down in front of him and took her own seat. “When did you get it?”

“Get what?”

“The soul.”

Spike supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Tara knew, but he was. “How did you know?”

“It’s not hard to see it once you know what to look for.” She regarded him calmly for a long moment. “So?”

“After—” Spike sighed. “Did Buffy tell you…”

“She told me,” Tara replied. “No one else knows, but she told me later.”

He nodded. “After that. Heard about a demon in Africa who could grant wishes for a price. Paid his toll an’ made my wish.”

“What did you wish for?”

Such a simple question, but it was not so easily answered, even though every word had been burned into his memory. “To be what I had been, an’ to be what I wanted to be. Not real specific, I know, but I was in a lot of pain at the time.”

Tara had to bite back a chuckle. Knowing Spike as she did, she had a sneaking suspicion that his words were an understatement. “So you got the chip out and the soul in.”

“Pretty much.”

“And Tim?”

“Met him just before I went over there. Ran into him again after I got back.” Spike gave her an eloquent shrug. “Boy needed someone to look after him, an’ I found myself in a position to do it.” The vampire met her eyes. “Dawn?”

“She stayed with me for a while right after Buffy died,” Tara replied quietly. “Dawn has her own place now near campus. She’d want to see you, Spike.”

“Doubt it,” Spike replied. “Not after the way we left things. Where’s Red? Would have thought she’d be ‘round here somewhere.”

Tara shook her head. “She went back to England with Giles after the funeral. She’s doing better, but—”

Left unstated was the fact that no one wanted Willow too sorely tempted. Not that she would make the same mistake twice, but there was no sense in putting her within arm’s length of the Slayer’s grave. “You joinin’ her any time soon?”

Tara laughed a little and shook her head. “No, Spike, we haven’t been together for a long time. Not since right after you left.” When his eyebrow went up in a silent question, Tara looked away. “After you left, things got—crazy. Warren shot Buffy and me. I was lucky. If the bullet had been just another inch to the right—Anyway, Buffy nearly died, and I was in surgery for a while. By the time I came out of it, and they knew I was going to recover, Willow had used the magic to heal Buffy. She just went—I don’t know.”

“She was drunk on power,” Spike said quietly. At Tara’s surprised expression, his lips twisted. “I’ve seen it before, Glinda, an’ I saw it in Red before I left. Girl needed to feel like she was the one in control. Not surprised things got out of hand.”

“No, I’m not either,” Tara admitted. “Anyway, she killed Warren and nearly ended the world before Xander could stop her. Giles took her to a coven in England to learn how to deal with the magic the right way. And when she came back, things just weren’t the same.”

“I would imagine not,” Spike agreed.

Tara found herself watching him. She hadn’t been terribly surprised to see him in the Magic Box. Of all of them, she had been the one to realize how deep Spike’s feelings for the Slayer went, and she had suspected that Spike would show up soon after her death. It had been five months, but it wasn’t as though anyone had sent him a message.

She had always had a secret sympathy for the vampire. Maybe it started when he’d hit her in the nose, thus proving she wasn’t a demon. Maybe it had everything to do with the summer that Buffy had been gone, and she had watched him taking care of Dawn and mourning Buffy. They had not done well by him.

Of course, in the end, the gang hadn’t done all that well by her or Anya either. The Scoobies had their own charmed circle, and it was impossible to break into it.

Outwardly, little had changed. His hair was still bleached, although it wasn’t so short or slicked back. He still wore his duster; he still sat with careless abandon, sprawled out in his chair. The change was in the aura and in the eyes. There was a depth to him that hadn’t been there before.

“How long will you stay?”

Spike shrugged. “Dunno. Hadn’t planned on staying at all. I was goin’ to pay my respects then leave, maybe for L.A. Tim said he wanted to stay somewhere for a while.”

“Why not stay here?” Tara suggested. Spike’s head shot up in surprise. “Dawn needs you, Spike, and so does Sunnydale.”

He scoffed. “Right, because they needed me so much before. You’ve got a new Slayer, Glinda. Let her do her job.”

Tara’s look quelled him. “Spike, the new Slayer lives in India, and apparently they’ve got a Hellmouth there for her to take care of. Besides, Dawn—” She hesitated. “Dawn’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The same kind of trouble I was in after my mother died,” Tara replied. “She doesn’t think it matters anymore. Maybe if you—”

“Take care of her like I did that summer?” Spike asked incredulously. “’s been years since I’ve seen her, Glinda, an’ we didn’t part on good terms. ‘s not my responsibility.”

“No, it’s not,” Tara agreed. “But she listened to you, Spike. She might listen again. Or, at least it might help to know that you still care.” She raised an eyebrow. “If you still care.”

“I care,” he replied, sounding surly. “’course I care. She was mine as much as anybody’s. Don’t know as she’ll listen to me, though.”

Tara sighed. “I’m not sure that it matters, Spike. If she knows you’re here, maybe that will be enough.”

Spike shook his head, not at all convinced. “I’ll stick around for a bit then, Glinda. Not makin’ any promises, mind you, but I’ll stick around to see what comes.”



Chapter 3

“It is easier to forgive an enemy than it is to forgive a friend.” ~William Blake

Tim was used to waking up in new places and different beds. Waking up in Tara’s guest room was rather pleasant. He’d noticed the night before that her place smelled fresh, like herbs, and she had been as welcoming as anyone he and Spike had met on their travels.

He trusted his nose. Tim appreciated a place that smelled sweet and clean; he’d been in plenty of places that didn’t.

It was strange, however, to stumble out to the kitchen and find Tara brewing coffee, and she greeted both him and Luz with a warm smile. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Tim watched her warily. He wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, although it was appreciated. “Uh, do you have a dish or something I could use? I’ve got food for Luz in the car, but…”

“I’ll find something,” Tara replied. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Please.” Tim ordered the dog to stay, and she flopped down under the table with a heavy sigh, which made Tara chuckle.

When Tim came in with a bag of dog food, Tara was scratching an appreciative Luz behind the ears while the dog tried to lick her hand. “She’s a good dog.”

“She is,” he agreed, pouring the dog food into the dish that Tara had set out. “Spike didn’t want to keep her, but I convinced him to bring her with us when we left New York.”

“Is that where you’re from?” Tara asked.

Tim shrugged. “Born and raised.”

Tara reflected that she should have known from his accent, but the young man had been largely silent up to now. His dark hair was cut short, although it still managed to look shaggy. Bright yellow-green eyes watched her warily, deep-set in a swarthy face. He had some Italian blood, if Tara didn’t miss her guess. There was pain there, more than seemed possible for a young man of no more than twenty.

Her eyes were drawn of their own accord to his stomach, where an intricate design was etched in color into his skin. Tim scratched his head self-consciously. “I can put on a shirt.”

Tara shrugged. “If you want. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Okay.” He shifted from foot to foot, taking the cup of coffee she held out, looking everywhere but at her. Tara just watched him, taking in the tattoos and piercings—the tough image and vulnerable eyes. In that, at least, Tim reminded her of Spike.

“Do you want breakfast?”

“Uh, if you’ve got something handy. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

Tara smiled. “It’s no trouble. I enjoy cooking.”

“Okay then.” Tim sat down with his coffee, watching Tara intently. “How long have you and Spike known each other?”

“A few years,” she replied, beginning to whip up the pancake batter. Tara paused to think, trying to come up with a more exact timeframe. “Actually, we first met eight years ago.”

“Oh.” Tim wondered what it was that had brought Spike and this gentle woman together, how they had known each other, why the man they’d seen at the shop had been so willing to kill him.

“He punched me in the nose.”

“Oh.” He blinked, trying to imagine that.

Tara smiled at his tone. “Spike did it to prove I wasn’t a demon. You know about the chip?”

“The chip?” Tim asked. He really knew next to nothing about Spike. The few times he’d tried to ask questions, the vampire had shut him down completely, and Tim was too grateful for everything Spike had done for him to push it.

“It kept him from hurting humans,” Tara explained. “Before he had his soul.”

Tim did know about the soul. Spike had to give him some explanation for why other vampires wanted to munch on him and he didn’t. “That’s kind of cool,” he commented. “So you guys were friends then?”

“No.” Tara frowned. “Spike wasn’t really friends with anyone except Dawn or Buffy. It was more that we had mutual friends.”

“Tellin’ all my secrets now, Glinda?” Spike asked, ambling into the kitchen. He tossed a shirt at Tim’s head. “Doubt the girl wants to see all your pretty pictures, lad.”

Tim frowned. “She said she didn’t mind,” he replied, pulling the shirt over his head anyway.

“I don’t mind,” Tara said, a smile hovering around the edges of her lips.

“She’s making breakfast,” Tim pointed out.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I make breakfast.”

“Once in a blue moon.”

“So?”

“Tara’s making breakfast.”

“Rounds or funny shapes?” Tara asked, interrupting the little spat. She was trying (unsuccessfully) to hide a grin. Spike and Tim sounded like brothers, which she found highly amusing.

Tim frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Rounds or funny shapes?” Tara repeated patiently. “Hasn’t anyone ever made funny shaped pancakes for you before?”

“No one’s ever made me pancakes before,” Tim replied. “Except in restaurants where you don’t get a choice.”

“Spike didn’t make pancakes for you?”

“I make eggs,” Spike defended himself. “And waffles.”

“Eggo waffles,” Tim pointed out.

“Then you need to have funny shaped pancakes,” Tara decided. “Dawn always thought they tasted better that way.”

“Alright,” Tim agreed, willing to try anything.

Tara started pouring the batter into the pan, glancing back at Spike. “I thought I’d call Dawn this morning and invite her for dinner tonight.”

“Whatever,” Spike said, rather ungraciously.

Tim frowned. “Are we staying?”

“For a while,” Spike said. “Seems I’m needed for the moment.”

Tim wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Staying in New Orleans had been one thing; there were plenty of people and lots of things to do there. Here in Sunnydale the options were much more limited. “We gonna have to find a place to stay?”

“You both can stay here for as long as you need,” Tara offered. Then, looking at Tim, she said, “If you want a job for a while, I could use some help in the Magic Box. I’m running it alone right now.”

It wasn’t as though Tim had never worked, although his jobs were never of the type that were strictly legal. On the other hand, he wanted to get some more work done on his tattoos, and that required ready money.

Plus, there was the fact that he wanted to be able to help Spike for once, rather than relying on the vampire for everything.

“That could be alright,” he allowed, glancing over at Spike, who shrugged.

“Do what you like, Tim,” Spike said. “You do anyway,” he muttered under his breath.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Just because you think tattoos are stupid—”

“I never said that,” Spike replied, his voice raising just a bit. It was obvious to Tara that the two had had this conversation a number of times before. “I just pointed out that you have to live with them for the rest of your life.”

“Which might not be that much longer,” Tim replied. Tara noticed that argument shut Spike up quickly, although she could see the flash of pain in the vampire’s eyes.

Spike got up from the table abruptly. “Think I’ll catch a few more hours sleep if you two are leavin’.” The slamming of the bedroom door punctuated his comment.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Tara said quietly.

Tim glanced up at her. “What?”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she repeated. “Spike cares about you.”

“Spike took me in because he felt like it was his responsibility,” Tim stated bluntly. “He’d have left me behind a long time ago if I hadn’t followed him.”

Tara shook her head, touching the boy gently on the cheek. So tough—so vulnerable. “Spike doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do,” she said quietly. “That much hasn’t changed.”

~~~~~

Dawn entered the Magic Box in something of a funk. Well, it was probably a hangover, but she’d needed to have some fun the night before, and the jello shots had seemed like a good idea at the time. It just figured that Tara would pick today to have dinner, when Tara would take one look at her and know she’d been drinking.

Tara was really the only one who cared one way or the other at this point, of course. Giles and Willow—who might have said something—were in merry old England, doing their own thing. Now that Buffy was gone, there was nothing keeping them here in Sunnydale. And Xander had his own problems with drowning his sorrows. In fact, he probably would join her if he could ever get over the fact that he was drinking with Buffy’s little sister.

Tucking her hair behind her ears impatiently, Dawn blew out her breath, steeling herself for the lecture she knew was coming.

Except that Tara was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, a guy about her own age lounged behind the counter, a worn paperback in his hand. He glanced up as the bell above the door rang and smiled at her a little uncertainly. “Can I help you?”

Dawn found herself unexpectedly angry that Tara had hired someone to work in the Magic Box without even saying anything to her. The witch had asked her if she wanted the job just the week before, and Dawn had turned her down flat, but she hadn’t expected Tara to go out and find someone else. “Where’s Tara?”

“In the back, I think,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. Dawn thought he might have been cute, except for all the tattoos he had. The piercings—one through his eyebrow, both ears and one right below his lower lip—were cool, though. “Do you need help finding something?”

“I need to find Tara,” Dawn replied huffily. “She’s a friend.”

“Oh, okay.” Tim knew this girl was angry, though he had no idea why. “I’ll see if I can find her. Luz, stay,” he ordered, and walked toward the back.

Dawn watched him go, admiring the way his ass looked in jeans. He might make for an interesting time.

Tara followed him out a few moments later, and her warm greeting dimmed a bit as she noticed Dawn’s red eyes and pallor. “Hey, Dawnie. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Dawn said, a note of impatience in her voice. “Really. How are you?” She glanced over at Tim, who had ensconced himself behind the counter again and was making a serious effort to ignore their conversation.

“I’m good,” Tara replied easily. “I have some news. Spike’s back in town.”

For one, brief moment, Dawn’s heart leapt. And then she remembered that she was supposed to be pissed off at him for leaving as he had. “So what?”

Tara frowned. “Dawn—”

“He left, Tara,” she said quickly. “He should have stayed gone.”

“He still cares,” Tara said quietly, pulling her away from the counter. “Besides, you don’t know everything, Dawnie. Spike had his reasons for leaving.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Right. Everybody has a reason to go. Well, it’s just too bad that he didn’t see fit to fill me in.”

Tara frowned at her, disappointment sparking in her eyes. It was an expression Dawn was getting used to. “Then maybe you should give him a chance. Spike’s going to be around for a while.”

“Oh, really?” Dawn said. “Until when? Until he gets tired of Sunnydale and leaves without saying anything again? Forget it, Tara, I don’t want to see him.”

“You don’t know him anymore,” Tim spoke up from behind the counter, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “You don’t know anything about him.”

Dawn stared at him. “He left me and my sister when we needed him. That’s all I need to know.”

Tim frowned, wanting to reply, and not knowing what to say. “You don’t know him,” he repeated.

“And you do?” Dawn asked archly, angrily. Like she needed some punk kid to tell her how to feel about Spike.

Tim was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this girl was a bitch and that Spike really didn’t need her attitude. “Considering that I’ve lived with him for the last five years, yeah.”

Dawn was pissed off—and jealous. Spike was her friend; he’d been her surrogate brother at one time. The fact that he’d been taking care of someone else, when Buffy might have used his services, really made her angry. If Spike had stayed in Sunnydale, the Slayer might not have been killed. “Fine, whatever. I don’t want to see him.”

“Come to dinner tonight, Dawn,” Tara said, and there was a calm command in her voice. “We’ll be eating at seven.”

Dawn looked away, biting her lip, torn between telling Tara she could go to hell and obeying. The witch was the only one who even pretended to look after her anymore, and so she was hesitant to brush her off completely. “I’ll see you at seven,” Dawn finally said, turning to sweep out of the shop.

Tim watched her go and then turned to Tara. “Is she always like that?”

“She’s had a rough time.”

The boy frowned. “So what? There are other people whose lives suck, and they don’t act that bitchy.”

Tara sighed. That was true enough. She herself had her own burdens to bear, her own pain to deal with, and Dawn seemed bent on ignoring everyone’s stuggles but her own. Rightly or wrongly, Tara knew that Dawn would have to let go one of these days.



Chapter 4

“Guard well within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to live without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness.” ~George Sand

Spike dug through his bag without success. Never one to carry much around in the way of clothing, he was all out. He’d need to do laundry soon, but for the moment, he had no problem borrowing one of Tim’s.

It was a good thing they were approximately the same size, Spike reflected. At least in shirt size. The young man had a good couple inches on him, which meant shirts were about the only clothing they exchanged.

Pulling out a long sleeved red t-shirt, he pulled it over his head, looking over his shoulder as Tim entered the room. “Tara stopped and got fresh blood for you.”

“Good. How was work?”

“Fine. Work.” Tim sat down on the bed and watched the vampire. He’d learned over the years to read his moods, and he could tell that Spike was agitated and nervous. “Spike? Were you and Tara ever—you know?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well, I know you and the Slayer were involved, but I just wondered about you and Tara.”

“She’s gay.”

“I know that,” Tim said, exasperated. “So what? Maybe she liked guys at one point.”

Spike sat back, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth, even though he was doing his best to appear mortally offended. “You’re sayin’ that I turned her off boys?”

“No!” Tim shrugged. “It’s just—you guys just seem close or something, and she said you weren’t really friends, so…”

“’s difficult to explain,” Spike said, thinking back. How to explain the group dynamics of Buffy and her gang of do-gooders to someone who hadn’t been there? That he and Tara had both been on the edges, although in very different ways? “We were—in the same boat, I s’pose. An’ I always liked her. She’s a real lady.”

Tim hadn’t had the chance to meet very many of those, but he had to agree. “And Dawn?”

“She was mine,” Spike murmured softly. Dawn was, perhaps, his greatest regret. He often wondered what might have happened if they’d manage to keep the closeness they’d shared that summer. If, instead of being so focused on Buffy, he’d saved his attentions for the Summers who loved him.

Looking back, Spike knew he’d screwed up. He certainly shouldn’t have allowed Buffy to prevent him from seeing Dawn. He should have been just as intent on that relationship as on the one with Buffy. But he’d been in love—obsessed, really, and right up until that last night he’d had every hope of making things work.

Then again, if things hadn’t worked out the way they had, he would never have met Tim, who needed him. That, at least, was something.

“If you want me to go somewhere, I can,” Tim offered quietly. “I mean, if you need alone time with them or something.”

Spike looked over at him in surprise, realizing that Tim believed he was going to abandon ship. “That won’t be necessary,” he assured him. “I haven’t always been able to keep my promises, lad, but I try.”

Tim ducked his head and looked away, remembering the night that Spike had promised to take care of him. The night the vampire had sat with him until dawn and beyond, wanting to ensure he didn’t make a stupid mistake. It had been that more than anything that had kept Tim alive—Spike’s constant presence. That someone cared had been a miracle in its own right.

“Yeah, it’s cool. I just thought—” He sighed. “We staying here?”

“For a while,” Spike replied. “Have to start looking for our own place pretty soon. We can’t rely on Glinda’s good graces forever.”

Tim fiddled with the frayed hem on his jeans. “It has to be a place that lets us keep Luz.”

Spike shook his head, amused, glancing over at the dog—Tim’s constant shadow. “She’s come with us this far. Not like we’re going to leave her behind now.”

“Okay,” Tim said, relieved.

Spike sighed. “Lad, I’m not goin’ to get rid of you. We’re both too bloody stubborn for that. Whatever happens here in Sunnydale has nothin’ to do with the two of us.”

That, at least, Tim could believe. What lay between the two of them could only be measured in thousands of miles and long years, in the scars that lay thick on his skin. In memories best left to the dirty alleys where they were formed. They were tied together by blood, both his own and others’.

Spike had killed for him. It meant something.

“Yeah, it’s just—” Tim sighed, wondering how to explain. “You know.”

Spike knew. Things changed, people changed—and suddenly the ground you thought was solid beneath you was nothing but quick sand. “This town does things to you, but I’ve developed an immunity.”

Tim grinned. “Then you’ll have to pass your secret on to me.”

“Stick close, lad,” Spike replied. “Just stick close.”

~~~~~

When Dawn came through the door, Spike could immediately tell that she was ready to fight.

And she was so grown up.

Sometime during the last few years, the promise of womanhood had reached its fruition. She was tall and willowy, her hair as long as ever. Her clothing and make-up suggested that she more than knew it, however. It screamed that she capitalized on it.

If Spike didn’t miss his guess, little Dawnie had turned into a man-eater.

Her voice and eyes were cold when she spotted him. “Spike.”

“Dawn.” He matched her tone. Spike loved her, but he understood the bitterness that time could foster. She could forgive him or not; it was up to her. “How have you been?”

“How do you think?” she asked. Her face softened slightly when she saw Tara coming out of the kitchen. “Hey, Tara.”

“Hello, Dawn.” Tara gave her a warm hug, glancing over her shoulder at Tim, who had been drafted to help with dinner. “You already met Tim this afternoon.”

Dawn’s look weighed and dismissed him in the same breath. “Yeah. He’s staying here too?”

“I’m with Spike,” Tim replied. He turned and went back into the kitchen, already tired of the girl’s attitude. She brought back bad memories.

Dawn’s gaze went back to Spike. “You look the same.”

“Vampire,” he said, almost apologetically. “We don’t age.”

She shrugged. “Whatever. So why did you come back?”

“Wanted to say goodbye.”

Angered by his even tone, Dawn snapped, “I thought you already did that when you left.”

“Dawn—”

She ignored Tara’s warning. “If you had stayed, my sister would still be alive.”

It was an unfair accusation; after all, the Slayer had been killed in spite of Spike’s best efforts once before. There was no reason that he would have been able to prevent her death this time. “Maybe,” was all Spike said to that, keeping the same calm as before.

“Why don’t you two go out to the back porch to talk?” Tara suggested gently. “Dinner will be ready in a little while.”

Spike followed Dawn out to the back, wondering at how much like her sister she had turned out—in mannerisms if not in looks. “Why did you leave?”

Something in her tone had softened, and Spike could hear it, the hurt that had been hidden under bitterness and anger. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s what you said before,” Dawn snapped. “I think I’m old enough to handle the truth now.”

“Buffy and I had a fight,” Spike said. “It got ugly, an’ it was time for me to go.”

She shook her head. “You guys had lots of fights, Spike. You didn’t leave after you chained her up in your crypt. I don’t see why—”

“The Slayer an’ I were sleepin’ together,” Spike interrupted. “Then she broke it off, an’ I couldn’t stand her yankin’ me around. That’s what happened.”

“No!” Dawn protested. “Buffy would have told me if—” She broke off, remembering little things she’d seen that had made no sense at the time but did now, looking back. Biting her lip, Dawn risked a glance over at him. “I still don’t understand why you left.”

“Promised your sister I’d never hurt her, didn’t I?” Spike said softly. “An’ then I did. The rest of it’s between us, but…” He ran a hand over his face. “Never meant to hurt you, Dawn.”

The anger still burned, but it was a dying fire. “Well, you did. Congratulations, Spike. You left and didn’t even say goodbye.”

“There wasn’t time.” There hadn’t been opportunity either. It wasn’t likely that Buffy was going to let him see Dawn after what he’d nearly done. “Wish there had been.”

Dawn sighed. “So who’s the guy?”

“Friend of mine,” Spike replied. “We met up in New York.”

“Is that where you went?”

“For a while. Been all over at this point.”

“How long are you staying?”

“I don’t know.” Spike had always been straight with the girl, and he didn’t see a reason to start lying to her now. “Tara said the Hellmouth needs me, an’ that you’re havin’ some trouble.”

“I’m not having trouble,” Dawn snapped. “Tara should mind her own business.”

Spike shrugged. “Right then. Look, you need someone to talk to—”

“If I did, it wouldn’t be you,” Dawn shot back. She turned abruptly to go back inside. “You left, Spike. We’re not friends, we’re not family. You have no right to me or my life. In fact, you can just go to hell for all I care.”

Spike listened to the slamming of the door behind him, unmoving. Hurt. He’d forgotten how much rejection had hurt, he’d managed to do without it for so long. The door opened and closed behind him, and Tim passed him a pack of cigarettes. “Dawn said she wasn’t hungry and left.”

“I see.” Spike took a long drag off his smoke and glanced over at the young man who was doing the same. “Thought you were supposed to give those up.”

“I changed my mind.” Tim shrugged. “I like smoking too much.”

Since Spike felt the same way, there really wasn’t an argument he could make. “Let Tara know I’ve gone hunting?”

“Can I go with you?”

“I don’t think—”

“If you wait till after dinner, I could go too.”

Spike sighed. “The Hellmouth isn’t like New York, lad.”

“So what?” Tim gave him a cheeky grin. “I’ll be with you, won’t I?”

“I can’t always protect you,” Spike replied, and his tone was sharper than he’d intended.

Tim’s face lost its humor, and his green-gold eyes darkened slightly. “Spike, whatever she said to you, it doesn’t matter. Not really. You did the best you could.”

“It wasn’t the best for her.”

“Sometimes our best isn’t good enough, but it’s all we have,” Tim replied.

Spike let out an unnecessary breath in a humorless breath. “You’re twistin’ my own words.”

“They’re good ones.” Tim touched his arm hesitantly. “Let me come with you.”

Spike closed his eyes, dropping his head, then taking one last drag off the cigarette. “Fine. Let’s get you fed, then I want to go hunting.”

~~~~~

It was late before Spike got back to Tara’s house. He and Tim had gone through a few cemeteries before he’d sent the boy back. Tim had gone without comment, perhaps realizing that Spike needed some time to himself. Not to mention a spot of violence where he was alone.

He passed Buffy’s grave on the way back to Tara’s, somehow knowing that it had been his goal all along. “Hey, pet,” he murmured, touching the stone. “Tryin’ to keep Sunnyhell demon-free for you. Doubt it’s going to happen, since if a Slayer can’t do it, ‘m not sure why a souled vampire would even be tryin’.”

Spike sighed. “Talked to your sis today. Think she hates me for leavin’ like I did. Can’t blame her really. It hurts when somebody breaks their promise. I just hope she can forgive me after a while.”

He straightened, started to move away. “Glinda says she needs help, but Dawn says otherwise. I’ll stay around and see to her, Slayer. I can promise you that. Maybe this time I’ll be able to keep that promise.”

Spike headed back to Tara’s slowly, hands shoved in pockets and shoulders slumped. He was tired unto death, not for the first time. Even releasing his hurt and anger onto the flesh of demonkind was not enough these days.

All he could do was remember that someone needed him.

~~~~~

Tara had been six when her father had brought his belt down on bare skin for her remarks about the cloud that surrounded their neighbor, Mr. Orson. It was to teach her not to slander, but the young Tara had been very certain that it was merely a statement of fact. Mr. Orson had a black cloud surrounding him that made Tara very nervous in his company.

The fact that Mr. Orson had beaten his wife to death no more than a week later was never mentioned. Tara learned not to talk about the things she saw that weren’t there for other people. Not until she had met Willow had there been another who so shared her vision of the world.

It turned out that Willow hadn’t understood, however. She had been into power and control. Tara had learned the hard way from a very early age that most things were often unpredictable and chaotic. That the people you were supposed to be able to love and trust the most were those who were most dangerous.

She’d believed Willow was different; that had hurt the worst.

So it was that Tara didn’t trust the obvious anymore. She didn’t trust that someone was going to be good to her just because they loved her. And she didn’t believe that someone was evil just because they were supposed to be.

Tara had seen Spike’s aura before he left Sunnydale, and then again when he returned. Other than the addition of the soul, not much had changed. It was oddly comforting. For that reason alone, Tara would have trusted him enough to let him in her house.

Besides, she knew what had gone on before he left Sunnydale, knew the truth of his relationship with Buffy. Tara felt for both of them, caught in a situation that seemed to be spiraling out of their control.

Now, with Dawn slowly destroying herself, Tara had hoped that Spike might be the one to pull her out of it. It now seemed a futile hope.

She wrapped her hands around the hot mug of tea and listened as the front door slowly creaked open. Spike came through to the kitchen just as she’d hoped he would. “How did it go tonight?”

“You shouldn’t leave your door open.”

Tara smiled. “I have wards up. Those who mean me harm wouldn’t see the house anyway.”

“Neat trick.”

“I’ve been practicing.” She waited a beat. “Would you like some tea?”

Spike regarded her silently for a moment. “Please. That would be nice.”

She rose to pour him a mug, handing it over to him silently. They both sat down at the table, sipping slowly. “I’m sorry for how things went with Dawn tonight.”

Spike shrugged. “’s alright. Wasn’t your fault, pet.”

“Maybe not, but I know how close you two were that summer.” Tara sighed. “I thought it would go better, honestly. She’s just so desperate for something right now, and I thought she might latch onto you.”

Spike stared down into his tea as though it were a scrying pool that held all the answers. “What kind of trouble is she in?”

“Boys, drinking, that sort of thing.” Tara laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “The same sorts of things I was into after my mother died. Anything to feel for a while. You forget that there might be something worth living for sometimes.”

“Sometimes you do,” Spike agreed quietly. “Not sure what I can do for her, Glinda, not if she won’t talk to me.”

Tara shrugged. “Maybe if you’re just around, Spike. That could help. And I can get you a key so I don’t have to leave my door unlocked for you.”

“Tim an’ I will find our own place,” he said quickly. “Do appreciate you lettin’ us stay here, though. It’s—nice.”

“Spike—” Tara stopped, suddenly unsure of what to say exactly. He was so wounded. So was Tim. The two of them together activated her maternal nature until the desire to nurture was a sharp need. It was rather obvious that they could use a mother; it was equally obvious that Spike, at least, didn’t want one.

Things had changed so much in the last few months. Anya had long left for greener pastures, leaving Tara to run the Magic Box, an equal partner with Giles. Buffy, of course, was gone, never to return. Willow had used the Slayer’s death as a convenient excuse to get away from Sunnydale and the increasing awkwardness between her and Tara. All that had left Xander an embittered man, hardly good company.

Spike was a connection to the old days, when the Scoobies had been a united group. When Tara had felt a part of something, part of a family, before things had gone sour. And his eyes were an open wound.

Tara had never been able to ignore a wounded creature, not even when her father punished her for bringing critters home.

It seemed that she hadn’t changed all that much herself.

“Don’t worry about us, ducks,” Spike said. “We’ve been alright on our own for a while.”

Tara mustered up a smile. “There’s an apartment complex not too far from here. I’ve heard they have pretty good rates.”

“We’ll check there first then.” Suddenly Spike’s eyes went shy, and Tara got a glimpse of a man she’d never seen before. “Would be nice to stay close,” he admitted. “Know Tim could use the attention. He’s a good kid, but—”

Tara nodded. Tim’s eyes were as wounded as Spike’s, and that was saying something. “I’ll look after him.”

Spike smiled. “Good. I can use all the help I can get.”

A thought struck her, and Tara asked, “So where are you going to be working?”

The vampire just looked mysterious. “You don’t want to know.”



Chapter 5

“If logic tells you that life is a meaningless accident, don’t give up on life. Give up on logic.” ~Shira Milgrom, New York Rabbi

The first floor apartment was not only a good size, with two bedrooms and a sliding glass door for easy dog-walking opportunities, but also very cheap. Tim was never precisely sure how Spike always managed the best deals on real estate, but he did. This time the boy suspected it had something to do with a very careful stakeout over two nights, waiting for the apartment manager to get attacked by a vampire.

Of course, how Spike knew the woman would get attacked by a vampire was another story, and not something Tim cared to examine too closely.

Being rescued by two stalwart champions for the innocent definitely predisposed her towards giving them an incredible discount on the rent. Spike’s offer to ensure that there wouldn’t be any more vamps hanging around the place clinched the deal. And the place was dog-friendly, which was all Tim really cared about.

Furniture, of course, would have to be scrounged, as usual.

“What are you guys going to do for furniture?” Tara asked, sounding concerned. She’d come over to take a look at the place and was a little concerned at how bare it was.

Spike shrugged. “We’ve got sleepin’ bags for right now. Tomorrow we’ll have to start lookin’ for stuff. You’d be amazed at what people put out on the curb all the time.”

Tara frowned, not really liking the idea of the two of them making do with so little. Not that they were going to listen to her. “I’ll see what I can dig up,” she promised.

Spike and Tim exchanged glances, both amused at her mothering. “We’ve got stuff in the trunk,” Tim assured her. “You know, cooking utensils and things like that.”

It was better than nothing, and Tara just had to be satisfied with that. “You’re both still welcome at my place at any time,” she said. “I mean it.”

Spike smiled, recognizing the order to show up on occasion for what it was. He appreciated the thought—appreciated being welcome in another’s home. He had yet to see Dawn again. The young woman obviously wanted nothing to do with him. Spike had decided to let things ride, wait it out. He remembered too well what had happened the last time he’d tried to force things.

“I’ll start getting the stuff from the car,” Tim offered, whistling at Luz as he headed out the door. The dog was at his heels in a flash, grinning at the opportunity to go out.

Tara glanced over at Spike. “You guys should come over for dinner tonight.”

“Glinda—”

“Just the two of you,” Tara said. “I did invite Dawn, but she declined. Apparently there’s a party to go to at the Bronze.”

A flash of wistfulness passed over Spike’s face, and then was gone. “Well, ‘m glad somebody’s having a good time,” he said lightly. An evening with Tara suddenly seemed like a good idea. He’d found he enjoyed the witch’s company. More than that, it felt good to be with another adult, someone else who understood the necessary burdens looking after another person entailed. “You want to come to Tara’s tonight, lad?”

Tim, who had just walked through the door with a box in his arms, shrugged. “I thought I’d go out tonight. Met a guy in the shop the other day who said there was going to be a pretty cool band playing.”

Spike nodded. “Good. You ought to get out, meet some people your own age instead of hangin’ around with old people like us.”

“You’re old,” Tim agreed. “Tara isn’t. Should be cool. I’ve got to start asking around about good artists in the area.”

Spike didn’t even bother replying to that comment. It wasn’t that he didn’t like tattoos exactly. It had a lot more to do with the fact that Angel had one, and Spike as a general rule thought anything his grandsire did was stupid. Including getting a tattoo.

If you had to live with one for an eternity, permanence took on a whole new meaning.

“Be careful,” was all Spike said, but Tim rolled his eyes in response. Not that he minded Spike caring whether or not he made it home in one piece, but it seemed like the thing to do.

“Yes, Dad,” he replied mockingly. “Would you mind watching Luz tonight?”

Spike gave him a disgruntled look and then sighed. “Take a stake with you,” he said. “And no, I don’t mind watchin’ the dog.” Luz came over to sit by him, nudging his hand with her nose until he finally started scratching behind her ears. “Like she needs watchin’.”

“She doesn’t like being alone,” Tim defended. He hesitated. “You don’t mind me going out tonight, do you?”

“No,” Spike replied softly. “Have a good time. Just—”

“Be careful,” Tim finished for him with a smile. He often wondered what it would have been like to grow up with Spike. Not that it was even possible, since Spike was ageless, but still. To have grown up with someone who not only told him to be careful when he went out but also offered to rip the throats out of anyone who hurt him.

Well, Tim thought it might have been kind of nice.

“I won’t be real late,” he promised. “Got work tomorrow after all,” Tim added, giving Tara a grin and heading back out the door for another load.

“Cheeky bugger,” Spike muttered, shaking his head.

“And that’s why you love him,” Tara commented with a smile.

Spike’s face was dead-pan, although his eyes held a spark of good humor. “Never said anythin’ about love.”

~~~~~

Tim showed his fake ID to the bartender, gratified when the man handed him a bottle without question. Even though he’d just turned 20, Tim knew he could easily pass for a few years older. Taking a couple swallows, he looked around the small club with interest. The Bronze wasn’t nearly as lame as he’d feared. Ryan, the kid from the shop, hadn’t shown up yet, but the band was pretty decent, as promised.

He took another sip of his beer, savoring it, since he didn’t plan on having more than one. First rule of being in a new place was to keep your wits. Tim avoided any kind of loss of control unless he had someone else to watch his back. And then only when it was someone he trusted.

There wasn’t any place to sit, so he found a wall and did his impression of a wallflower. Not that he minded. Tim had long ago learned the art of being alone, although it was usually out of self-defense, rather than preference.

He stood there for a while, watching the people, sipping his beer, listening to the music. At one point, the crowds parted, and he could see Dawn dancing with a bunch of people. She had two guys on either side of her, and Tim wrinkled his nose in disgust. Not that he minded seeing a little skin on a girl, but he knew trouble when he saw it. That he knew her to be a major league bitch didn’t help any.

Seeing her dimmed his enjoyment, and Tim pushed away from the wall, planning on pitching his empty bottle and heading back to the apartment.

“Hey, those are some cool tats.” The girl who had spoken was short and slightly overweight. She had several piercings and visible tattoos herself, but more importantly wore a friendly smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“First time,” he replied. “Just got into town a few days ago. I’m Tim.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Ryan was talking about you. He’d said he met you at the Magic Box and that you might show. I’m Meredith.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tim replied with an easy grin. “This is a pretty nice place.”

“It’s okay,” Meredith replied dismissively. “It’s safer than the Fishbowl, which is the only reason we come here. That, and they have good bands sometimes. Come on over and sit with us. We’re just hanging out until we go back over to Ryan’s tonight.”

Tim willingly followed her, casting a last glance over at Dawn. This time, their eyes met, and it was Tim who looked away first, not wanting more contact with her than absolutely necessary.

~~~~~

Spike sighed, finding himself relaxing in Tara’s presence. She always seemed to carry an aura of peacefulness with her that affected all around. “Thanks for havin’ me over tonight, Glinda.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Tara replied warmly. “It’s nice to have a friend in town again.”

The vampire frowned. “Harris…”

“Isn’t my friend,” Tara said, sounding regretful. “I don’t think he’s ever quite forgiven me for breaking things off with Willow. If I hadn’t, she would have stayed in town.” She patted Luz without thinking, the dog having laid her head across the witch’s knee. Luz sighed in happiness, her eyes half-closed.

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Just like Buffy wouldn’t have died if I’d stayed.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Tara replied sternly. Her eyes went far away. “I don’t think anyone or anything could have saved her, Spike. It was just—her time.”

Taking a long draught of the wine Tara had broken out, Spike looked over at her. “You never did explain what happened.”

“No,” Tara agreed. They had talked around it several times, and she’d given him the bare bones story—that Buffy had been killed by a vampire. That it wasn’t until her body had been discovered by an early morning jogger that anyone had known anything at all. That Dawn had been the one to identify the body.

There wasn’t much more to the story than that, actually. Buffy’s first two deaths had been more spectacular than her third. Even though she had been the best to ever live, she was still vulnerable to the fate that awaited every Slayer.

With Buffy gone, the Council could not risk the world being without a Slayer for as long as it took Faith to gain her freedom. The dark-haired woman had been killed in a prison riot. Slayers were vulnerable to knives in the back as well.

“There isn’t much more to explain,” Tara said regretfully. “I think that’s what made it worse for the others, that it was a single vampire rather than some apocalyptic battle.”

Spike sighed. “Every Slayer has a death wish,” he murmured. “Told Buffy that once. Maybe if I’d stayed…”

“She wouldn’t have wanted to die?” Tara inquired. “Spike, while no one else would admit this, Buffy was tired. She did get better after you left. I think Willow going crazy snapped her out of her funk. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d seen heaven, and she always wanted to go back.”

“Did she ever talk about me?”

“Sometimes,” Tara replied quietly, glad to be able to give him this small comfort. “When it was just the two of us. I know she wondered how you were, where you were. I know she regretted what happened between the two of you.”

Spike nodded. “She would. It got bad.”

“I think she cared for you, as much as she was able.”

“I know,” Spike said softly. “When she broke it off with me, I knew she cared enough to do that much at least. She called me William, an’ she said she was sorry. I think that made it hurt worse, knowin’ that she felt somethin’ at least.”

Tara understood that too well. Understood the pain of hoping for repair in a relationship that was already broken, never to be fixed. “How did you meet Tim?” she asked. “And I want details this time, Spike.”

He chuckled, knowing the change in subject for what it was. Unfortunately, the new topic wasn’t much more cheerful. “Was on my way out of the country,” he explained. “An’ I needed to kill some time…”

Spike had desired to get out of Sunnydale first and foremost, and had headed east on the bike until it broke down. Ditching the motorcycle in favor of the railroad, Spike started haunting the railyards. It was still possible to ride a train all the way to the East coast.

Not that he didn’t have a definite goal in mind. Clem had told him about the demon in Africa who granted wishes for a price. Well, Spike had a wish or two to make, and he was happy to pay the toll. The worst that could happen was that he’d die in the attempt, and that didn’t seem like such a bad alternative at this point.

It had been a pleasant change to travel. After the last few years in Sunnydale, Spike had almost forgotten that there was a wider world beyond Buffy and the Hellmouth. Used to be that he enjoyed time spent on the road, liked seeing new places and things and people—or demons. Now he just had to wait on a ship leaving good old NYC for Europe or Africa. As long as it got him across the ocean, that was all that mattered.

The longer he was on the road, the more Spike realized he wasn’t in a hurry to complete his errand. He’d have his soul back and the chip out soon enough, and then he’d have to face the Slayer again, not something he was particularly looking forward to.

Life on his own was decidedly pleasant in comparison to what he had just come from. He’d even managed to not think about Buffy for whole hours at a time.

The diner was just a way to pass the time, an opportunity to people-watch, pretend that he was hunting again.

The near-by table full of young teens brought Dawn reluctantly to his mind. He’d thought of writing or calling at least a half-dozen times since he’d left Sunnyhell, but every time he stopped just before completing the call or sending the letter. Spike just didn’t have a clue as to what he was supposed to say, how he was supposed to explain his leaving, or what had happened before he left. He wondered if Buffy had told her sister about what had passed between them, knowing that if she had, Dawn would hate him forever, as she should.

With a quiet groan, Spike pushed the thoughts away, concentrating on the interchange between the children. They all looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, out for an evening. There was one boy who appeared not to belong. He was the awkward one, the one who was the butt of every joke.

Spike watched as the boy flushed when one of the others made a joke at his expense. There were a couple of girls and four boys. One of the girls wasn’t laughing at the jokes, but she wasn’t defending him either.

The comparison reluctantly came to mind, and he remembered another party long ago where he was the one struggling not to show his discomfort as the others made fun at his expense. Spike watched the boy get up from the table, muttering something about coming back.

As he passed his table, Spike could see the kid struggling to control his emotions. It was obvious that he was heading to the bathroom in order to get ahold of himself. So lost in his memories was he that Spike didn’t notice anything until he heard the waitress in charge of his own table raise her voice.

“Somebody has to pay!” she said. “I’m not letting another bunch of punks do a dine and dash, and end up losing a chunk of my paycheck. I’ve got a sick kid at home!”

The boy was standing there, his face twisting in discomfort, near tears once again. “Honest, I didn’t know they were leaving. I can pay for my food, but I don’t have that kind of cash on me.”

Most kids wouldn’t, Spike thought, thinking about it. Six kids, all of whom had full meals. Most of them probably only with the money to pay for a burger and a movie in their pockets. He realized that the other kids had gotten up and left while the boy was in the bathroom, leaving him to take care of the tab. Cruel, indeed.

“I’m calling the cops,” the waitress declared. “If you give me their names, I’ll let it go.”

Spike watched the boy’s eyes go wide in alarm. It was an impossible situation, especially for a teenager. If he snitched on the others, he wouldn’t get into trouble when he’d done nothing wrong anyway. But his social life would be over, with whatever hope for acceptance he had gone.

It wasn’t just his memories of a party long ago that made him sympathetic to the boy’s plight. He’d been the outsider just recently as well.

Before he could think about it too much, Spike stood, reaching into his wallet for the necessary cash. “I’ll take care of it,” he said quietly.

The kid turned startled eyes to him, and the waitress regarded him suspiciously. “This isn’t any of your business, sir. Those kids have to learn a lesson.”

“Maybe so, but their friend isn’t the one to teach it,” Spike replied. “Why don’t you let me pick up the tab?” he asked persuasively. “Just take care of it.”

Apparently the charm still worked on some women, because she relaxed under his gaze. “If you can take care of it,” she said, a trace of doubt in her voice. Spike knew he didn’t look like he had a wallet full of cash, but he had enough for this at least. Pulling a couple bills out of his wallet, he handed them over, saying, “Keep the change.”

It was a good enough tip that she walked away smiling. The boy stared at him, obviously overwhelmed at the gesture. “I—I can’t—”

“Forget it,” Spike ordered. “You might want to find yourself some new friends, though.”

“They aren’t my friends,” he replied hotly. “It’s—Sira, I mean—”

“It’s always a girl,” Spike murmured. He sighed. “I’ll give you a piece of advice, lad. Stay away from the girls. They’re always trouble.”

The kid shrugged. “Yeah, but Sira’s cool.”

Spike wanted to tell him that no girl who’d let her friends walk out, sticking him with the bill, was cool, but he wasn’t ready to listen. “You walkin’ home by yourself?”

“I take the subway,” the kid replied.

“I’ll see you home,” Spike said. He had no clue why it mattered that this boy get home safely, but it did. Maybe it was just that he missed looking after the Slayer and her sister—or at least trying to look after them.

The kid looked at him warily. “Okay. I’m Tim.”

“Spike.”

Tim looked at him askance. “Spike? Really?”

“For a long time now, lad,” Spike replied. “Let’s blow this joint.”

“So you walked him home,” Tara said.

“Yeah, saw him home, an’ then headed out on a freighter a couple days later,” Spike replied. “Didn’t run into each other again till about a month after I got back from Africa.”

Tara was looking at him as though she’d never seen him before. Spike soon grew uncomfortable under her gaze. “What?”

“That was before you got a soul.”

“So?” Spike snapped. “Bloody hell! The whole lot of you thought I—I was tryin’ to change! I just wanted—”

“You changed, and no one noticed,” Tara said softly. “I’m sorry, Spike.”

Spike shrugged and sank back down on the couch. “Not your fault.” He gave her a wry smile. “You’ve done some changin’ yourself, pet.”

“And no one noticed,” Tara replied. “At least, not until they had to. It’s obvious that Tim thinks the sun rises and sets on you, Spike. He doesn’t believe you think all that much of him, though.”

Spike shook his head. “Tim—Tim’s been through a lot,” he said quietly, not wanting to reveal too much. They weren’t his secrets to tell. “He was in a bad way when I found him after I got back, Glinda. Didn’t think he was gonna pull through for a while. Took me weeks…” He sighed. “Lad doesn’t believe anybody wants him, an’ he doesn’t believe he’s gonna make it past 25.”

Those words told Tara as much as she needed to know. She had seen the marks of it, on his skin, in his eyes. How could she not when the scars on her own soul were obvious to anyone who knew what to look for?

She’d done her own research, after leaving home, getting far enough away to realize that her family wasn’t normal. Some might say that no family was normal, but Tara knew better. She knew that normalcy in a family was defined by love, and hers had not been so. Perhaps her mother had loved her, but not enough. Not enough to protect her daughter against the demons that lived inside their home.

It wasn’t the women in her family that were monsters.

So, once she’d managed to put a little time and distance between her and those who had betrayed her the worst, Tara had begun reading. She read up on how to heal, how to make sense of what had happened to her.

Only in the last year or two had she actually begun to fully come to terms with it, because first of all you had to acknowledge that it was there.

And Tara knew that children who had experienced violence often had no hope for the future. Instead of feeling invulnerable and invincible, as did most boys his age, Tim was all-too-aware of his own mortality.

As for the self-esteem issue, Tara was well acquainted with feeling worthless. She’d had to fight that battle too, especially after she’d left Willow for good.

“Tim will heal in time, Spike.”

“Will he?” Spike shook his head. “Some wounds go too deep to ever be healed, Glinda.”

And Tara knew he wasn’t just talking about Tim.



Chapter 6

“Hope is a waking dream.” ~Aristotle

“Sure you don’t want a ride?” Ryan asked. “I gotta take Meredith home too.”

Tim shook his had. “No, I’m good. I don’t live that far away.”

Ryan shrugged. “Up to you. So you gonna show Friday night? It should be fun.”

He hesitated. Ryan and the others seemed like a good bunch of people, but Tim was always a little wary in a new town. “Yeah, sure. For a while anyway. You mind if my roommate comes with if he wants?”

“The more the merrier,” Ryan replied, waving a goodbye, as did Meredith. While Tim was never too sure what to do with members of the opposite sex, he really liked her. Of course, it only made sense that she was dating someone else—one of the guys in the band that had been playing.

Tim sighed, trudging down the street. This was always the worst part of picking up and moving. He liked seeing new places, but meeting new people was hard, and so often he’d only just started to feel as though he belonged when they would set out on the road again. It had been that way in New Orleans.

Staying with Spike was worth it, however.

Tim heard a voice behind him, calling out his name. He started reaching for his stake without thinking, then stopped as he recognized Dawn. “Tim.”

“Hey.” He knew he wasn’t being very welcoming, but he didn’t care. Tim was normally a very polite young man, appearances notwithstanding, but he really didn’t like this girl. “What do you want?”

Dawn paused, suddenly unsure of herself. She’d been thinking the last few days, and had realized that maybe she was being stupid where Spike was concerned. Not that she thought she needed his help, but she still remembered how close they had been the summer Buffy was gone.

No matter what she might say, Dawn missed having a family.

“I—this isn’t a very safe part of town to be walking by yourself,” she replied.

Tim lifted an eyebrow and then turned away to continue walking. “Look who’s talking.”

Dawn scowled, not liking the reminder that both boys she’d had on the line had left, tired of being jerked around. “I know how to take care of myself,” she shot back.

“So do I,” Tim replied, his tone mocking. “Look, Dawn, I know you and Spike go way back, but you’re a bitch. So why don’t you go find someone else to annoy?”

Dawn stopped stock-still. She couldn’t believe this—punk. Who did he think he was, talking to her like that? She hurried to catch up with him. “I am not a bitch!”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Right. You keep telling yourself that.”

“You don’t even know me!” she protested.

“And you don’t know Spike anymore,” Tim said. “So why are you being so cruel?”

“He left!” Dawn replied. “You weren’t here. You don’t know.”

Tim kept walking, speeding up his steps a little more. “So what?” he shot back. “Shit, Dawn, everybody leaves. People don’t stay the same, and they don’t stay in one place. You just have to deal with it.”

“Spike wasn’t supposed to go!” she protested. “He promised!”

Tim stopped, head down, not knowing why he was even bothering to listen. “Then maybe you should give him another chance,” he said quietly. “Because he came back.” He didn’t care about her, but Tim knew that Spike would appreciate some consideration from her, would love it if she gave him a second chance at things.

There was a part of him that was afraid that if she did, if Spike got Dawn back the vampire wouldn’t need him anymore. Whatever indefinable role Tim played in his life would be over, taken up by this girl that Spike had loved for such a long time.

Dawn, for her part, envied this boy who’d had Spike for the last five years—the vampire who was supposed to belong to the Slayer and to her. She envied their closeness and their obvious bond. She coveted it, and at the same time fought against renewing any old attachments.

Because everyone died—everyone left.

They stood—separated by inches and by a space that went on forever. Both had been hurt in ways no one should have to endure; neither was willing to see the other’s pain, or to try and understand it. What Dawn wanted she could not have said, but she was suddenly tired of looking. “Will you tell him to come by some time?” she asked. “Tara can give him directions.”

Tim glared at her suspiciously. “Why don’t you come by?” he challenged. “We have our own place now.”

“Just tell him,” Dawn ordered. As he started to walk away, she called after him, “And I’m not a bitch!”

Without turning around, Tim replied, “I’ll believe that when you stop acting like one.”

~~~~~

“Tim? Did you stock the eye of newt already?” Tara called. She looked around. The shop was looking better than it had in weeks. Everything was in its place, neatly lettered signs were up announcing sales and specials. Tim had a knack with art that left Tara pleased.

He looked up from his book. “Yeah, everything’s done.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks. This place really does require two people to run it, but I haven’t had help for a while now.”

Tim hesitated, wondering if he should even ask the question, deciding that Tara wouldn’t be offended even if he crossed the line. “How come you didn’t ask Dawn to help?”

“I did,” Tara replied. “She said she didn’t have time for a job right now.”

Tim was quiet for a moment, thinking about his encounter with the girl the night before. He’d passed the message along to Spike, as he’d been asked. “Has Spike changed all that much?”

“No,” Tara said, not really even thinking about it. “Not that much. I suppose he’s a little more subdued than he used to be.”

Tim frowned. “He’s different here, you know. Not a ton, but I can tell.”

“There’s a lot of history here,” Tara replied. “For all of us. You kind of had to be there.” Tara could immediately tell that it wasn’t the right thing to say. “Oh, Tim, I didn’t mean to say that you can’t know, it’s just—”

“Forget it,” Tim said hoarsely. “You mind if I take a smoke break?”

Tara sighed helplessly. “No, go ahead. When you get back I’ll go get lunch for both of us.”

“You don’t have to do that, Tara,” he protested. “Really, I’m fine.”

“I want to,” she said firmly. “I promised Spike I’d look after you, didn’t I?”

Tim nodded shortly, knowing he was probably being rude and unable to help himself. Leaning against the wall in the alley behind the shop, Luz by his side, Tim had time to think. He still remembered the first time he’d seen Spike in the diner in New York. He’d fancied himself in love with Yasira Rodriguez at the time, and had hung around her and her friends, waiting for her to reciprocate his feelings. She never had.

It could have been one of the most humiliating moments of his life. Tim hated to think what it might have been like to walk into school the next day if he’d been forced to snitch them all out. Spike had rescued him from that embarrassment, which looking back now seemed minor. Instead of being ashamed, Tim had walked into school with his head high, and his lips sealed.

Even then there had been a greater shame that no one had known. One that Spike could not save him from.

Almost a year later, he had seen Spike again for the second time in a dirty alley. The vampire had saved him from dying, but there were worse things than death.

They had never really talked about what had happened, what Spike had seen, what he knew about Tim’s activities. The young man suspected that Spike knew everything, if only by virtue of his long experience. He supposed it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what a street kid had to do to survive.

Tim had seen it first hand. You might swear you were never going to turn tricks, but that only lasted as long as an empty belly, and then you had to find a way to fill it. And panhandling was never a sure thing.

By the time Spike swooped to his rescue for the second time, Tim had done a number of things to survive, and he’d learned to dull the pain with a lot of cheap pharmaceuticals. It was luck alone that he hadn’t started shooting up yet.

It was luck alone that he’d survived for that long.

Tim remembered the days that Spike had spent with him. Long days of waiting for the shakes and the vomiting to end. Long nights of nightmares and sweats and riveting pain. And always there had been cool, gentle hands and a smoke-filled voice that murmured promises and threats. Promises to stay, threats of what he would do should Tim give up.

There were bonds that went deeper than blood. Spike had told him enough about the Sire-Childe bond for Tim to know that what he felt was similar. His was a loyalty that bound him to Spike as surely as Luz was bound to him.

And Tim did not mind belonging to someone. He just hoped that that someone didn’t abandon him.

~~~~~

Why Spike found himself following the tunnels to the Magic Box in the middle of the afternoon was beyond him, but he was. Maybe it was because he was bored. His chosen profession—information broker, card sharp, and all-round-ne’er-do-well—could be quite profitable if you knew how to go about it. Knowing what information to broker, which poker games to play, and what prize fights to participate in could reduce the work load to several nights a month, leaving plenty of time for free-lance demon hunting.

He hadn’t been lying when he told Tara she didn’t want to know how he made his money. He was a snitch, a thief, and a gambler. His mother would have been appalled.

Someone had to make sure there was plenty of blood and food and smokes, however, and Spike really didn’t mind. It kept him from getting too bored most days. Key word: most.

Today wasn’t one of those days, however, and Spike found himself hungry for company. He entered the Magic Box through his old method and caused Tara to nearly jump out of her skin. “Sorry, Glinda.”

Tara stared at him, eyes wide, hand to her heart. “It’s fine, Spike,” she said, once she’d caught her breath. “I just wasn’t expecting you. Did you come in through the storage room?”

“Yeah, the entrance is still open.” Spike looked around the shop expectantly. “Tim here?”

“He’s out back smoking,” she replied, and the vampire caught the hesitation in her manner.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” Tara thought better of her quick denial and rephrased. “I don’t think so, but—”

Spike’s eyes darkened. “He hasn’t been himself since the other night. I’ll go talk to him if you don’t mind.”

“Take your time,” she replied softly, touching him lightly on the arm. The gesture stunned him, left him gratified and wanting more. The luxury of touch was so small a thing, and yet priceless beyond measure. For all the coupling that he and Buffy had done, there had been so little of that between them—so little tenderness.

Tara was all softness and steel, an intriguing combination.

Tim was out in the alley, smoking, in an unknowing parody of the Slayer’s position that day she’d revealed where she’d been, where she’d come from. Spike had the added benefit of a soul this time, plus knowing that Tim’s feelings were rather more in his favor. Spike was no longer the supplicant.

“I was just about to come in,” the boy said, standing, watching as Luz trotted over to lick Spike’s hand in greeting.

Spike shrugged. “We’ve got a bit of time. Tara didn’t seem to mind if you took a bit longer break. Did somethin’ happen?”

“No,” Tim said, ready to head back in. He wanted to avoid this conversation, feeling that he already knew the outcome. “I’m fine.”

“Sit down, lad,” Spike said, in the tone he hardly ever used with Tim. It was the tone he might have used with a wayward fledge, but there was a kindness behind it. “I think we need to clear some things up.”

Tim sat, and Luz whined, looking from one man to the other anxiously. Spike chuckled. He could swear the dog thought she was a person. “It’s not a scoldin’, Luz,” he reassured her, and Tim. “Just a bit of clarification.”

Spike hugged the wall and the shade as he came over to sit next to Tim. In an hour or so the entire alley would be shaded and safe, but for now he had to be careful. He supposed it had been a shock to the lad to learn his protector was a vampire, but Tim’s eyes had been old even then, and their bond had already been tightly sealed.

Tim had really taken in the information with remarkable aplomb.

They sat in silence for a bit until Tim asked, “So have you talked with Dawn yet?”

The question was enough to let Spike know what was going on in Tim’s head. “No, an’ I’m not goin’ to until she comes ‘round. Girl told me to go to hell.” When he saw the start of a smile on the boy’s face, he said quietly, “I think I need to clarify some things for you.”

“It’s okay, Spike, really,” Tim said quietly, anxious fingers rubbing the tattoo of the star on the underside of his forearm—a sure sign he was getting panicky. “I mean, I know you care about her.”

“I do,” he agreed. “’s not that, though.” Spike sighed. “You weren’t around for me bein’ the Big Bad, lad. We didn’t meet till I was mostly tamed, but my first tour through Sunnydale was spent mostly tryin’ to kill the Slayer.”

Tim was silent, listening intently. He’d never gotten this much information out of Spike before, and he had thirsted for it. “So that’s what Buffy knew, yeah? Knew the evil son of a bitch that tried to kill her half a dozen times. Then I got that blasted chip in my head, an’ I was toothless. Couldn’t even growl at a human without getting a soddin’ headache.”

“But you got the chip out, right?” Tim interrupted, thinking of the second night he’d met Spike.

Spike smiled, but there was no humor in the expression. “Same time I got the soul.” He looked over at Tim. “What you have to understand is that after I fell in love with her—the Slayer—I promised I’d take care of Dawn till the end of the world. And I failed. Dawn got hurt, an’ as a result the Slayer died. Her friends pulled her out of heaven, and then we shagged and we fought and I very nearly did the one thing I swore I’d never do.”

Tim was quiet. He didn’t bother asking what that one thing was. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “So you left.”

“I left,” Spike agreed. “I broke my promise, Tim. I failed, an’ I cost a girl her life. An’ then I made it worse. That’s why it’s so important to me to keep my promises now.”

“But you promised her first!” Tim protested. “You didn’t even know me then.”

“I know you now.” Spike’s blue eyes met Tim’s yellow-green. “I failed Buffy,” he admitted hoarsely. “Wasn’t man enough for her. An’ I failed Dawn too. I won’t do it again.”

Tim understood then. Understood that Spike knew the past was irreparable, that he wouldn’t risk the present or the future on something that had been and gone. “Spike—”

“You’re mine, Tim.”

They were the same words Spike had spoken the day that Tim had nearly died, and the young man felt the same wild rush of relief that he had that first time. He rested his head on Spike’s shoulder in a gesture younger than his years. “I know.”

~~~~~

Xander entered the shop, the sense of duty lying heavily on his shoulders. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Tara, because he did. She was a perfectly nice woman. More than nice, even. The problem was that he felt if given the choice between Willow and Tara, he would have taken Willow in a minute, but the choice had never been offered. It had, in fact, been taken out of his hands.

He felt as though he’d lost both his best friends in the past few months. Loneliness had never been a comfortable state for the Xand-man.

In some strange way he supposed he blamed Tara for Willow’s leaving, and not just because she was the one who stayed. Tara had been the one to break things off with the red-headed witch, and Xander thought that maybe if she’d just stuck things out, Willow would have remained in Sunnydale instead of flying off to greener pastures in England.

If Xander was going to be honest with himself—not something he liked to make a regular practice of—he had to wonder why he had remained in Sunnydale. Other than Dawn, there was really no one here for him now, and he could work construction anywhere—could probably make a better living at it too.

In his heart of hearts, Xander knew that what kept him in Sunnydale was fear, pure and simple. He’d never lived anywhere else, had never even really been anywhere else. His attempt to tour the 50 states had blown up in his face after his high school graduation when the engine fell out of his car. Xander Harris was, in the end, terribly unsure about his ability to make it in the larger world.

So he stayed in Sunnydale, and his bitterness deepened.

Xander would come to the shop every so often to make sure that Tara was okay, but it hurt to even walk through the doors. Hurt not to see Willow or Buffy or Giles. He felt like a ghost in his own life now.

Tara was behind the counter when he entered the shop. “Hi, Xander.”

“Hey, Tara.” Xander shifted from foot to foot. His main reason for coming today was to check and see if what Dawn had said was true—that the boy who had been with Spike was working in the shop with her. “Are you by yourself?”

“Not really,” Tara replied. “Tim and Spike are out back.” For her part, Tara felt no need to hide her relationship with either of them.

Xander scowled. “Do you think that’s smart, Tara? Spike doesn’t have a chip.”

“He has a soul now, Xander,” Tara said gently, looking at him with compassion, knowing exactly why this was so hard for him.

Xander laughed in disbelief. “So now we have Soul-Boy Jr, huh? Is this some kind of disease with vamps? When do we go back to just staking them?”

“We still stake vampires,” Tara replied dryly. “We’ve just never staked Spike.”

His hands curled into fists. Xander had no idea what to do with his anger. There hadn’t really been any stellar examples of such in his life. He wanted to shake Tara, to make her see that Spike couldn’t be trusted, and neither could the little punk who had been with him. His head shot up as they came through the back, and the tension in the shop thickened until it could have been cut with a knife.

“Harris.”

Xander wished that Spike had been rude, wished that he could take out all his grief on the flesh of the vampire—because what else had he ever been there for? With Tara standing right there, however, he felt guilty for wanting to beat on Spike in the first place. “Spike. I thought you were leaving town.”

“Somebody has to keep the Hellmouth in check,” Spike said evenly. “Tara said you lot might need me.”

Xander wanted to tell him that they didn’t need another souled vampire, that he could leave town. Buffy wasn’t around anymore for him to obsess over. “Watch your step, Spike,” Xander ground out. “If I find out this soul thing was just a sham—”

“You’ll stake me good an’ proper. I know the drill.” Spike’s tone was curiously gentle. “Maybe you ought to think ‘bout getting a new song.”

Xander whirled and then stalked out the door, not realizing that he hadn’t even bid Tara goodbye. Spike turned to look at the witch, who was biting her lip in dismay. “Spike—”

“If he was polite, the world would be endin’,” Spike said lightly. “Come to dinner with us tonight, Glinda? You look like you could use a bit of fun.”

Tara hesitated, and then nodded. She could barely remember what fun was. “That would be nice.”

Tim looked from one to the other, a thoughtful expression on his face. He’d never seen Spike this invested in a woman before. This could get interesting.



Chapter 7

“We are all strangers in a strange land, longing for home, but not quite knowing what or where home is. We glimpse it sometimes in our dreams, or as we turn a corner, and suddenly there is a strange, sweet familiarity that vanishes almost as soon as it comes…” ~Madeleine L’Engle

Dawn stood outside Spike’s door, wondering what it was she was doing there. She had waited for him to come around after leaving her message with Tim, but there had been no sign of the vampire. When she had finally called Tara to ask about him, the witch had been gentle but firm. “I think you need to apologize, Dawnie. You didn’t treat Spike very nicely.”

The girl had to wonder when things had changed—when anger had become so deeply embedded in her heart that she couldn’t even bear to look at Spike anymore. Although, that wasn’t exactly true.

The worst of it was, she had missed him, had longed for his return, and yet the sight of him was like salt in a wound still-raw. Spike’s very presence reminded her that there were others she had loved who would never be coming back.

Tara had been correct, however. Dawn knew she needed to apologize, even if she didn’t allow him into her life again. It had always been a badge of honor with her that she hadn’t treated Spike as badly as the rest of the Scoobies had.

It wasn’t the vampire who answered the door, but Tim. The young man stared at her, and then asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Spike,” Dawn replied warily. “Is he here?”

Tim hesitated, obviously trying to decide whether or not to tell her anything. “No. He’s out on patrol. I don’t know when he’s going to be back.” Tim disappeared inside the apartment for a moment and then reappeared, stepping outside and locking the door behind him.

Dawn stood there, unsure of herself. She’d steeled herself for this encounter, and now felt limp with the effort. Tim glanced over at her. “Look, I’m going out now, so I can’t stick around. Maybe if you come back during the day you can catch him.”

It was a good suggestion, but Dawn still felt bereft and angry that Spike wasn’t present. She had come to try and apologize, and now the vampire wasn’t there to hear it. “Sure.”

Tim stood by the door as she turned to walk away, a sense of sympathy tugging at his heart. Tara had been right about one thing, at least. The girl had been through quite a bit. He’d begun to sense the stories that Spike had never told, and he could understand why she might be pissed off at the entire world. Her treatment of Spike was merely the fall-out.

Tim understood that sort of anger.

That small bit of understanding, plus Spike’s assurances that he wasn’t going to desert him, gave Tim enough compassion to call after her. “Hey. Dawn. If you don’t have anything else going on tonight, I’m going to a party. You’re welcome to come along, if you want.”

Dawn turned to look at him, and for a moment Tim was certain she was going to turn up her nose at his invitation. Then, something in her face changed, and she was almost pretty. Not just beautiful, but attractive. “I don’t have anything else,” she admitted. “That could be fun.”

~~~~~

Tara hadn’t been to the Bronze in forever. There hadn’t been any reason to, really. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends of her own, because she did. She stayed in contact with suppliers and other witches who understood who and what she was, who could be trusted. Most of them were scattered however, and the few who lived close by were all partnered up.

Tara hadn’t had a serious relationship since Willow. The ending had been raw for a long time, and now that she’d healed, she had yet to meet someone she was that interested in, or who she wanted to spend a lot of time with.

Spike was the first person who had served that particular purpose. He came over nearly every evening now, or they went out. They ate together, and drank—beer or wine or tea, it didn’t matter—and talked of old times and new. Tara had been amazed at his intelligence. She’d never thought of him that way before.

He could be articulate and suave—then crude and rough, within the same moment. Spike was wise and foolish, thoughtful and thoughtless, man and monster. Never before had Tara known someone with so many layers.

Tara found herself liking him a great deal, in all his incarnations.

She listened to his story of the demon brothel in New Orleans, how he managed to save the madam from a gang of extortionists, and what his reward had been.

Or what reward had been offered. “You turned down free services for a month?” Tara asked, sounding incredulous.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I knew where those ladies had been, Glinda, and—no offense—‘s not where I wanted to be. ‘sides, I’ve never had any trouble findin’ a date.”

That much Tara could believe. She’d seen the way a number of women had been looking at him, and had felt strangely gratified to be his companion for the evening. Even if she didn’t swing that way. “I find that hard to believe,” she teased.

Spike did that thing again—the thing where he suddenly looked like a completely different man. Shy, insecure—he was a strange combination of things indeed. “Haven’t done a lot of dating,” he admitted in a low tone. “’m a one-woman kind of guy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Spike,” Tara replied softly. “Loyalty is a good thing.”

“Is it?” he asked seriously. “Even when it nearly gets you killed, or drives you bloody insane?” Spike’s intense eyes bored into her. “You’d know about that, luv.”

“Leaving is a different kind of loyalty, Spike,” Tara replied. “Maybe is doesn’t always feel like that, but it is.”

Spike shook his head, not entirely convinced. There were still times he woke, dreams of failure fresh in his mind’s eye—watching Buffy’s body fall lifelessly. He still believed that if he had prevented Dawn from getting hurt, everything would have turned out differently. That somehow everything had hinged on his failure to protect the girl, as he’d sworn to do.

If he’d done what he promised, Spike wouldn’t have had to leave to save himself and Buffy both.

“D’you really believe that?” he questioned. “Sometimes, I wonder—maybe if I’d stuck things out here, we might have made it work. Did I give up too soon?”

This was the Spike she was coming to appreciate. Half-cocky, half-insecure—the guy who wondered if he was doing the right thing for those he loved. That desire had always been there, but the soul tore away all the veils he put up.

And, though Tara didn’t know it, her unconditional acceptance also had something to do with his vulnerability.

“I don’t know, Spike,” she answered honestly. “Maybe you did give up too soon. Or maybe if you’d stayed something worse would have happened. You can’t know. Are you really that sorry you left?”

Spike ducked his head, and then replied hoarsely, “No. I needed to leave for myself, if not for her. And I wouldn’t have met Tim if I hadn’t left.”

“You never know where your path is going to take you, Spike. Not really.”

“Don’t suppose you do,” he admitted. “You probably never thought you’d be here, with me.”

Tara touched the hand that lay on the table. “No, but it’s a good place to be.”

~~~~~

“Tim! Glad you made it, man,” Ryan greeted him as he came through the door with Dawn in tow. “This your roommate?”

“No,” Tim said with a half-grin. “Not hardly. Spike couldn’t make it. This is Dawn. Dawn, Ryan.”

Ryan gave the young woman an appreciative look. “Glad you could make it. There’s punch in the kitchen and beer. Anything else, just help yourselves.”

Tim nodded. “You got water?”

“Bottles in the fridge,” Ryan replied. “You turning straight-edge on me?”

Tim shrugged. “I just might. Your body is a temple, right?”

Ryan laughed and waved them off. The loud music playing reminded Dawn of the stuff Spike had often listened to the summer he’d stayed with her—raucous and youthful. There were people stuffed into every corner, most with a plastic cup or bottle in hand, and the smell of pot smoke was distinctive, even among the crush of people.

“What did he mean?” Dawn shouted over the noise, following Tim through the crowd. “About being ‘straight-edge?’”

“Straight-edgers don’t use drugs or alcohol,” Tim explained. They reached the kitchen, and he went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. “You want one?”

“I think I’ll try the punch,” Dawn replied with a defiant tilt of her chin.

A lifted eyebrow was Tim’s only response, and he gallantly filled a cup for her. “You might want to be careful with that,” he warned. “Most of it’s probably vodka. I doubt there’s much juice.”

“I can hold my liquor,” she said haughtily. “Anyway, I thought you said this was a party. So let’s party.”

Tim kept a wary eye on Dawn. He recognized what she was doing, of course, having done something similar in the past. You find ways to deal with pain. Sometimes it helped; sometimes it just caused more problems. After she’d downed two cups of punch, he suggested she switch over to water, which she did—telling him that he wasn’t much fun.

He danced with her, because Dawn was a good dancer and she was hot—and because every other guy present wanted to dance with her. They weren’t nearly as shy about where they put their hands as Tim was.

Tim knew he was a little old-fashioned when it came to girls. Maybe it was Spike’s influence, but he figured if you weren’t dating somebody, you ought to be a little more careful about what you touched. He also figured that it was only right to open doors and pull out chairs—if only because Tim had watched Spike do it with female friends he’d brought home in the past.

What usually happened was that his girlfriends developed instant crushes, gushing about how wonderful Spike was. Tim had learned valuable lessons on how you treat women.

And how you got women to like you.

When Dawn started taking hits off the roach being passed around, Tim became concerned. “Have you smoked before?”

“No, but what does that matter?” Dawn asked, already beginning to feel the effects of the weed.

Tim pulled the home-made cigarette out of her fingers and passed it on to the next person, not bothering to take a hit himself. “Because you’ve already had a lot to drink, and you’ve never smoked before. You don’t know how it’s going to affect you.”

Dawn pulled back from him. “You’re just a party-pooper.”

“I’m just trying to make sure that Spike doesn’t kick my ass for getting you drunk and high on the same night,” Tim replied.

She stumbled, her words slurring. “Oh, come on, Tim. Like I can’t do it by myself any night of the week.”

“Yeah, but I’m with you tonight, and apparently I get to be in charge of you,” he muttered. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Dawn frowned, her lower lip trembling. “Don’t have a home.”

Tim sighed. He had a feeling he was going to be in for a long evening. “What do you mean you don’t have a home?” he asked patiently, steering her out the door. Tim was certain that the girl had some place to go. Tara wouldn’t let her live out on the street, and he thought the witch had mentioned that Dawn lived near campus.

“Don’t have a home,” Dawn said stubbornly. “I had to sell it when my sister died.” She looked at Tim, and her large blue eyes welled up with tears. “That was my mom’s house. She died there.”

Tim bit his lip. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to listen to this girl’s sob story so he could start feeling sorry for her. There wasn’t anything to feel sorry about. Sure she’d had some problems, some rough times, but so had he. Hadn’t his parents kicked him out of the house for lying? Except that he’d been telling the truth when he said his older cousin perped on him.

Just because the perv swore up and down that Tim was lying, his folks had believed the cousin. Tim had the feeling his parents just didn’t want to deal with it or him. It was easier for them to pretend that it didn’t happen and then hope it went away. Easier to pretend that the problem was him.

So you have to excuse him for not wanting to feel sorry for a girl who at least had people that loved her, even if they were all dead.

Just because he didn’t want to feel sorry for Dawn didn’t mean Tim could completely stifle his empathy. He was a softy. “I’m sorry, Dawn,” he finally said. “That completely sucks.”

“My life sucks,” Dawn agreed. “I don’t want my life anymore.”

Tim was supporting most of her weight at this point. The girl obviously couldn’t hold her liquor, and chances were she’d probably get sick.

Tim was betting on really sick, actually. He knew the kind of stuff that went into that punch.

“You know, it’s not that bad a life,” he pointed out helpfully. “I mean, you’ve got friends, you’re going to college. Spike said you’re pretty smart.”

Dawn frowned, trying to take all that in. Her mind was a little soggy at the moment. “I guess,” she replied doubtfully. Then she started crying in earnest. “My sister died. And it wasn’t even to save the world this time. Buffy—Buffy said the hardest thing to do in this world was to live in it, and she couldn’t even do that. If the Slayer can’t do it, why am I even trying?” She stared at him as though he had all the answers. “Why do we even try?”

“I don’t know,” Tim replied honestly. “Maybe because it’s all we can do sometimes.”

And, because it was all he could do, Tim held her hair out of the way when she puked in the gutter, and then he saw her home.

Yeah, he really was a softy.

~~~~~

“You know, this is nice,” Tara said quietly.

Spike glanced over at her, eyebrow raised. “What? Actin’ as bait for the nasties?”

“No,” Tara replied quickly. “Just being out, at night. When I went walking with Willow after dark, I always felt like we were the only two people in the world.”

Spike smiled. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Sl—Buffy always came ‘round after dark. You remember that singin’ demon?”

Her eyes darkened with pain recalled. “Yeah. That’s when I found out Willow did a spell on my memory.”

“’s when things started up between me an’ Buffy too,” Spike said. “I thought at the time that she meant it—that Buffy had finally realized she felt somethin’ for me.”

They walked along silently for a while, reliving those painful weeks. Though neither had realized it at the time, it had been the beginning of the end for both relationships. They were so lost in thought that the incoming vampire didn’t register until Tara was on the ground, ripped from Spike’s side.

The newly risen vamp had no time to do more than growl at her before he found Spike’s stake in his back. “You alright?” Spike asked, kneeling down next to her.

Tara found the sense of his hands on her arms rough, with a haste that spoke of care and worry. Spike was patting her down, looking for injury, obviously angry with himself. “Spike, I’m fine.”

He paid no attention. “Bloody hell,” he hissed. “I’m sorry, Glinda. You could have been killed while I wool-gathered. Bloody stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Tara said, pushing herself up off the ground with his aid. When Spike wouldn’t look at her right away, she said a little more forcefully. “Spike, it wasn’t your fault. I’m not helpless, and I’m as guilty of not paying attention as you are.”

He stared at her for a moment, before a smile started at the corners of his mouth. “That your way of tellin’ me not to be such an arse?”

“That’s my way of telling you that not every bad thing that happens is your fault, even if you were standing right there,” Tara replied, amusement coloring her tone. “Besides, even if we were both caught off guard, I was perfectly safe.”

“Which is why you ended up on the ground,” Spike said self-deprecatingly.

Tara rolled her eyes at him. “No, which is why I don’t have a scratch on me. I have my very own monster to chase off the bad guys.”

Spike stared at her, unsure of how to take that last comment. Normally he would have thought it an insult—that was certainly the way that Buffy would have used it. Except that he’d had five years with Tim in between, and the boy had once called Spike, “his very own monster in the closet.” It was said with pride and affection, and Spike caught the same note in Tara’s voice now.

It struck him—though not for the first time—that there was no shame in what he was.

Tara watched in fascination as Spike grinned widely and then let out a sound that was almost a giggle. She had to stifle the urge to ruffle his hair, as he was just so boyishly appealing. In a moment of light-heartedness she rarely saw, he sketched a slight bow and offered her his arm. “Your very own monster, at your service.”

She didn’t miss the look of surprise on his face when she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, nor was she likely to forget the expression in his eyes, one of gratified wonder at her touch.

It reminded her that he wasn’t so much of a monster after all.

~~~~~

Tim was unlocking the door when he heard the footsteps behind him. The stake was in his hand before he could think about it too much. “Nice reflexes.”

“I knew it was you.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“Smelled the smoke,” Tim replied, grinning at him. “You always smoke the same shitty cigs.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “We smoke the same brand, you git.”

They grinned at each other, and then Spike’s smile faded as he took in the passing scent of alcohol and marijuana—and Dawn. “Tim—”

“They had it, but I didn’t partake,” Tim said quietly. “I’m completely straight these days, Spike.”

Spike sighed. “Knew you weren’t high, lad.”

“Dawn was here.”

“Knew that too.” He hesitated. “Is she—”

“She came to talk to you, I invited her to the party, and then I saw her home.” Tim looked at his friend and guardian. “I looked after her.”

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ different from you, Tim.” Their eyes met, and their gazes held. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

“I’m not a kid.” Tim’s voice held no heat. It was an old argument.

“When you’re a hundred an’ fifty, you can call anybody you want a kid.”

And Spike always managed to get the last word.



Chapter 8

“Grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver.” ~Sophocles

Dawn had to give herself a day to recover before going to see Spike. It was strange, but for all her anger with him, she didn’t want to see him disappointed in her. She hated to think that Spike might think less of her.

There are some loves that are hard to kill.

She hated to even think it, but Tim had been right. The “punch” had been a lot stronger than she was used to, and being high hadn’t been all that fun. The complete embarrassment of sobbing her heart out and puking her guts up in the street might have had something to do with her dulled interest. The muzzy-headed feeling had been more annoying than embarrassing, but it wasn’t something she cared to repeat either.

Just drinking one’s sorrows away was different.

Dawn was fairly certain that Tim had told Spike about her personal embarrassment. He’d probably thought it was amusing. She got a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought about Tim now. Whatever his feelings on her behavior, Tim had been really sweet, had even made sure she got into bed okay.

Then, before he’d left, he had set a bottle of aspirin and a large glass of water on the bedside table. “Punk” no longer seemed an accurate descriptor, which irritated her to no end.

Dawn hated being wrong about anything.

So here she was, outside Spike’s door, wondering what she was going to say and how she was going to say it. And she was really hoping that he didn’t know about Friday night.

Her knock didn’t bring results the first time, so Dawn tried again, wondering if Spike was out in the middle of the day after all. Just when she was about to give up, the door swung open to reveal the vampire, blinking sleepily.

“Dawn?”

His voice had the sound of disbelief. “Spike. Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, stepping aside. “You wanna come in?”

Dawn stepped inside before she could change her mind, glancing around the apartment. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

There was definitely a touch of sarcasm in her tone. Spike and Tim had actually managed to scrounge a couch and chair, though both had seen better days—and possibly better decades. The coffee table was a plank of wood resting on cinder blocks, and was covered with various books and magazines. A couple of posters of bands Dawn didn’t recognize were all there were on the walls. About the only thing remotely attractive about the place was the draped fabric over the windows that smacked of Tara’s touch.

Tara had, after all, done something similar for Dawn’s apartment.

Spike chose to ignore the tone and take the words at face value. “We still have some work left to do, but it’s comin’ along. You want somethin’ to drink?”

“Water?”

“Sure.” He went over and pulled a bottle out of the fridge, handing it to her, gesturing for Dawn to have a seat. She chose the couch. Spike took the chair.

“I take it you’re going to be here a while,” Dawn said.

Spike shrugged. “Don’t really have any other place I have to be, an’ this is good enough for the time bein’.”

A silence fell over them, threatening to choke off the rest of their conversation. “I’m sorry,” Dawn said in a low voice.

Spike thought about playing deaf and making the girl repeat it, but then decided it wasn’t worth it. “’s fine, Dawn. You have a right to be angry with me.”

She was quiet. “Did Tim tell you—”

“He said you went to the party with him an’ he got you safely home. That was all I needed to know,” Spike said. “Dawn—look, ‘m sorry too. I got a lot of regrets ‘bout that year, an’ I know you felt like everybody had abandoned you. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

It was the first time anyone had apologized for leaving her. Dawn knew that her mom and Buffy didn’t really have an option, but no one had ever come right out and said they were sorry for leaving.

And she’d had a lot of people leave.

“I missed you,” she admitted in a voice that ached. “Things got so crazy right after you left, and you were the person I needed the most, but you were gone.”

Spike moved to sit next to her on the couch, hardly daring to believe that this was happening, that Dawn might actually be able to forgive him. That they might still be able to sift beauty from ashes. “I had to go.”

Dawn heard the answering pain in Spike’s voice and knew he was telling the truth. No matter how she felt about it, Spike had needed to leave Sunnydale. “I know.”

“Know this is a hard time for you, Bit, an’ you gotta figure things out for yourself, but Tara’s worried for you.” Spike had to stop himself from touching her. Where before it had been his image that prevented him from reaching out, now it was the knowledge that she would not welcome his touch.

“I’m fine,” Dawn said, but this time there was no anger in her voice. “You know, it’s just—sometimes I need to forget for a while.”

Spike did know, but he’d learned from hard experience that it wasn’t so easy to leave problems behind. Numbing the pain with alcohol only worked so long as the buzz lasted. It was a lesson that could only be learned the hard way, however, and Dawn had already made it clear that she wasn’t going to listen to him.

So he said the only thing he could say. “You ever need anythin’ you can come to me,” Spike said quietly. “I mean that. Doesn’t matter what’s happened, doesn’t matter what you’ve done.”

It would be years before Dawn would completely understand what it cost Spike to say that—what it meant to love someone who told you to go to hell. It was the kind of unconditional love that cannot be fully understood until you had kids of your own.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like Spike was getting any older. He could afford to wait.

Dawn didn’t say anything in reply, couldn’t bring herself to unbend enough to touch him or even offer a thank you. Even so, for the moment, it was enough.

~~~~~

He was dreaming.

The grit of brick was under his cheek, digging into tender skin. He wasn’t shaving yet—he had one of those baby faces with just the peach fuzz. It served him well most days, making him look younger than he was.

He tried not to think about how sick that made the bastards that paid him.

They were behind him—one holding his face to the wall, egging his friend on, watching while—

Pain. Fear. They were going to kill him, after. One of them had a knife, and they would—

“Tim!”

The voice brought him up abruptly, and he fought for air like a man drowning. He didn’t recognize anything. He wasn’t—

“Hey, are you alright?” Tara was kneeling next to him, one hand on his cheek, her own face creased in concern. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah,” he agreed hoarsely, looking around. Tim remembered now. He and Spike had come over to Tara’s house for dinner, and they had gotten to talking. Tim had had some late nights recently, and he’d been resting on the couch, Luz on the floor next to him. “Must have dropped off.”

She smiled, but her eyes were still worried. “Yeah, Spike said he’d come back and pick you up after patrol. He said he was going to make it quick, so I thought I’d stay here.”

Tim was grateful that she didn’t ask what the nightmare was about. He honestly didn’t think he could bear to tell her—to have her think less of him. She was so good, how could she understand the shame that seemed to stain his very bones? How could she understand the harsh identity that came from living on the streets, from doing what was necessary to survive? Things that most people couldn’t even conceive of.

“I’m going to make us some tea,” Tara said quietly, rising.

Tim watched, amused, as Luz followed her into the kitchen. The dog had long since learned that Tara could be relied upon for a treat, and sure enough, the woman paused a moment to fish a dog biscuit out of the cookie jar she kept especially for Luz. “You’ll spoil her.”

“Aunt’s prerogative,” Tara replied.

Tim levered himself up off the couch to amble into the kitchen to sit at the table. “Aunt, huh?”

“Since I don’t have a cat,” she replied.

“Did you?”

“Miss Kitty Fantastico,” Tara said. “A long time ago. I just haven’t gotten a new kitty yet.” She didn’t mention the fact that it had hurt too much up to this point. Tara thought she might know when the time was right, or when the right animal showed up. For now she would take care of a stray vampire with a soul and his young friend with a faithful dog companion.

Tim took the cup of tea she held out, giving her a shy smile. “Thanks. This smells good.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Tim owed her a lot, which meant he was uncomfortable not granting her request. “I guess.”

“Why are you living with Spike?”

It was an easier question to answer than he’d thought it would be. “My folks kicked me out when I was about fifteen, I guess, and then when Spike—found me, he offered me a place to crash. I just never left.”

There was a moment of silence as Tara digested that. “I waited to leave home until I was 19,” she admitted. “And then I moved most of the way across the country to get away from my family. I didn’t realize how bad things were at home until I’d been away for more than a year.”

She watched as Tim stared into his cup. “We can’t help the things that are done to us.”

That comment caused him to glance up, startled. There was a sort of terrible hope on his face, hope that she might actually know his pain, and fear that she did. It was terrible to hope that another person had experienced the same sort of pain, but how else can they know you at your darkest?

He said nothing, because sometimes there are truths that cannot be spoken aloud. There are secrets too terrible to tell. They exist in the darkest corners of the soul, never to be cleansed.

Tara rose from her seat at the table and came over to him, placing a kiss on his forehead. It was the sort of gesture a sister might make, or perhaps an aunt. It was the kind of thing that had long been missing in Tim’s life—so much so that he felt his eyes misting.

Sometimes ordinary beauty can bring a person to tears.

She smoothed Tim’s hair back from his face tenderly, a Wendy to his Lost Boy. “You need a haircut.”

Tim grinned, laughing a little. “Haven’t had time. I don’t suppose you give haircuts too?”

“You’d be surprised at what I can do,” Tara replied. “So. Shirt off.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.” She stopped his movement with a gentle hand. “It gets easier with time. You don’t feel quite so much like you’ve got a big sign taped to your chest.”

Tim stared at her for a moment and then enveloped her in a hug. “Thanks, Tara.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetie.”

~~~~~

You walked places in Sunnydale, Tim noticed. Spike had hardly used the Mustang at all since they got into town, but it didn’t bother him all that much. They’d walked a lot in New York and New Orleans too. Actually, Tim was getting used to the small town feel, and found that it was a nice change.

“Like the haircut,” Spike commented. He was watching Luz trot ahead, sniffing at various objects, coming back every few minutes to check in with them. “Tara’s work?”

“Yeah, she thought I needed one,” Tim replied, running a hand through his shorter hair self-consciously. “She’s really cool.” It was all he could say to express how he felt about her—this wordless, nameless love that had sprung up. It made his chest ache.

Spike, who understood Tim’s inability to put feelings to words better than one might think, just grunted. “She is.”

“We could stay here for a while,” Tim offered. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

Spike nodded slowly. “’m needed here.” He laughed and there was a bitter sort of humor in the sound. “Never thought I’d say this, but ‘m comfortable here.”

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“I had the nightmare again tonight.”

He sighed. “’m sorry, lad. I wish I’d gotten there five minutes earlier. Or five months earlier.”

Tim hesitated. Spike knew about his time on the streets, but not really why he’d been there in the first place. The vampire had never asked the question, and Tim didn’t know if he wanted to share the answer.

But you had to start somewhere.

“It wouldn’t have been the first time.”

Spike looked over at him, then simply put an arm around his shoulders. They walked the rest of the way back to the apartment in silence.



Chapter 9

“The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart.” ~Saint Jerome

He hadn’t been entirely sane when he’d returned from Africa. Although, he wasn’t completely crazy either. Spike had finally understood why Angel was the way he was—and with that understanding came the will to pull himself out of the depths of despair.

Spike swore he wasn’t going to be like Angel—ever.

There had been the brief, fleeting thought of going back to Sunnydale, trying to explain what had happened to the Slayer, tell her he’d gotten his soul for her. That’s what it had been, though—brief and fleeting. Spike hadn’t any desire to get his heart trampled yet again.

Spike had expected to feel remorse for his crimes. He’d expected to be overwhelmed by guilt, especially for what had almost happened in Buffy’s bathroom. What he hadn’t expected was to feel angry about what she’d done to him.

They said there was a thin line between love and hate. Spike was wondering how often one could cross back and forth in a lifetime.

So he found himself back in New York, wandering the streets, finding ways to make a buck here and there. None of his money-making methods were legal—he was still a vampire, still a thief and a sneak. He was still Spike, no matter how much William might protest that fact.

Spike clung to his vampiric identity fiercely in the wake of his soul’s return. He wasn’t yet ready to give up the ghost of the Big Bad. It’s what prevented him from lying down on a rooftop and meeting the sun a lot of days.

Occasionally, he’d do something heroic. He’d saved a few people from getting eaten by vampires. He fed the occasional stray and watched out for the little old lady who lived in his building. He chased out the drug dealers so that the kids didn’t have to pass them in the lobby on their way out everyday.

Spike refused to believe that it made him a hero.

Heroes didn’t snack on the drug dealers. On the other hand, how else was he supposed to make certain they didn’t come back?

He’d been wandering aimlessly one night, thinking about as little as possible, when he’d heard the sounds. They were unmistakable, as was the smell of sex and blood.

It took him about two seconds to snap one guy’s neck and another minute to drain the second. Spike wasn’t feeling particularly charitable, nor did he want to give anyone a second chance.

The worst of it was that he recognized the kid.

“Tim? Gotta get you to a hospital, mate.”

“No.” It was more a whimper than anything else, and Spike could tell from his pupils that the kid was probably just coming down off something. “Please. You can’t. They’ll make me go back.”

Spike didn’t ask back where. Every kid had a sad story, and each one was more heart-wrenching than the last. And then the poor guy was crying—sobbing really, out of relief or pain or shame or maybe a combination of all of that. There wasn’t any choice, really. He had to take the kid home with him. Spike knew him. It was different when you knew them.

That was the night that Spike became a hero, even if it was only to one boy.

~~~~~

Tim hadn’t meant to even like Dawn. His first impression of her had been less than great, and subsequent meetings hadn’t gone all that well either. She’d gripped his heart a bit that night they’d gone to the party, however, and he’d seen her home. You can’t really take care of somebody without feeling a little something for them, even if it was only pity.

And pity could change into something else.

His feelings probably wouldn’t have had a chance to change all that much, but since Dawn was actually trying to be nice, she accepted Tara’s invitation to dinner. She was a different girl there. Interesting and funny and full of stories about Spike and the summer he’d taken care of her.

It felt like a family dinner—or what Tim imagined a family dinner would feel like. He didn’t remember ever sitting down around the table with both parents at the same time.

Spike was more relaxed and cheerful than Tim remembered ever seeing him. Tara was obviously thrilled that Spike and Dawn were getting along. Tim was honestly just grateful to be included.

Dawn, in a fit of helpfulness, offered to do the dishes, and Tim offered to help. “You going out tonight?” she asked as she handed him a wet plate.

Tim wiped it dry with the towel. “I hadn’t planned on it. Not unless I go patrol with Spike.”

“You like that sort of thing?” Dawn asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “It makes me feel like I’m helping, you know? After—well, Spike started teaching me self-defense and stuff, and I begged to go out with him. It was fun.”

Dawn smiled. “I used to beg my sister to go out with her, but Buffy wasn’t really keen on letting me slay. She wanted to protect me.”

Tim got a far away look in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I think Spike let me come just to keep an eye on me.”

Their eyes met and a connection was made. They were both semi-alone in the world—both orphans of sorts. “You know,” Dawn said hesitantly. “There’s a movie playing at the theater I want to see.”

Tim was quiet for a moment. It might be easier not to go there, not to get involved with this girl who was so out of his league. “Okay,” he said finally. “I haven’t been to the movies in a while.”

~~~~~

“What do you think about Dawn and Tim?” Tara asked Spike later that evening.

The vampire thought for a moment. “I think they could be good for each other.” Then he added, “Although, an’ I hate to say this, I think Tim would be better for Dawn than she’d be for him.”

Tara couldn’t disagree. She loved Dawn, but there were times that the girl exasperated her, especially recently. It didn’t help that the witch understood what Dawn was going through; in fact, it simply made her wish she’d snap out of it quickly, knowing how much damage you could do to your life in a short period of time.

“Has Tim ever dated anyone?” Tara asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Spike smiled a little and then shook his head. “No. He’s had plenty of female friends. They come ‘round and tell him all their troubles an’ then they go back to their boyfriends. He’s a good listener.”

Tara smiled. “Like someone else I could name.”

Spike glanced over at her, knowing who she was referring to. “Have my moments,” he admitted. “I worry about him sometimes, though.”

Tara was quiet. “It takes time to heal, Spike,” she said, speaking from personal experience. “Sometimes longer than you want it to. But you’ve really done a good job with him. He’s a great kid.”

Spike shook his head. “Tim mostly came that way. I didn’t do much.” He sighed. “Have to say he did more for me, you know. I was fairly aimless till I found him, an’ then once I had somethin’ to focus on—it was easier.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask.”

Tara was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You never told me why you didn’t come back to Sunnydale after you got the soul.”

Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath. “No. Don’t suppose I did.” There was a long pause. “It hurt too much,” he finally admitted. “Maybe if I hadn’t met Tim I’d have come back sooner, but I spent weeks seein’ him through the worst of it, an’ then I had to get him through high school before we could pick up an’ move. By that point it was easier to stay away.”

The silence that fell between them was comfortable at this point, and Tara knew Spike well enough to know that he wasn’t finished yet. “I didn’t want the soul to make a difference,” Spike said in a low voice. “Knew if I came back, an’ the Slayer could love me because I had a soul, it would hurt too bad. An’ I couldn’t bear to have her turn away again either.” He smiled self-consciously. “Now you know the real truth, Glinda. The Big Bad’s just a big coward in the end.”

Tara gave him a severe look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Spike. Anybody who would take in a teenager voluntarily is a saint in my book. That’s not the mark of a coward.”

If vampires could blush, Spike would have. “Felt responsible, Tara. What the hell was I supposed to do? Nobody else wanted him, an’ he needed me.” Spike shook his head. “I can’t tell you what it felt like to know somebody needed me that bad, an’ I needed him.” There was a raw note in his voice. “He’s mine, an’ that means everythin’ to me.”

She did understand—knew over the course of the last few weeks of spending time with Spike that his heart was as deep as the sea. Spike needed to be needed. It was inherent to his nature. He needed to take care of someone or something, and for all the good-natured grumbling he did about Tim and his tattoos and Luz, he loved every minute of it.

Tara had realized that Spike would have been perfectly content staying in Sunnydale with the Slayer. He would have believed himself to be needed, simply because Buffy had no one else to watch her back as competently as he could.

If Spike had thought he was needed in Sunnydale—for Dawn and the Hellmouth—he would have stayed until he was dust.

“I’m glad you came back, Spike,” Tara said softly.

Spike looked at her, and for once his expression was unreadable. “Ta, luv.”

She noticed he didn’t say he was glad to be back.

~~~~~

Xander had been out having a drink or two—or three or four—with the guys when he saw Dawn pass by, that punk kid by her side. He had known that Spike was still in town, had seen him a few times and had made it a point to ignore the vampire.

Not that Xander thought it would hurt Spike’s feelings to be ignored. He just hadn’t wanted to deal with him.

There hadn’t been a major apocalypse in Sunnydale for years, but the energies of the Hellmouth still drew more than Sunnydale’s fair share of demons and vampires. Where once the Scoobies would have tried to keep as tight a rein as possible on the vamps, Xander had gotten into the habit of just taking care of himself. He carried a stake, a bottle of holy water, and a cross at all times, and he locked the doors of his car when he drove after dark.

Xander would not have minded so much if he had been taken out by a vampire or a demon. It would have been fitting for even an amateur demon-hunter. Instead, he survived, moved through endless days that were all the same.

Ever since Buffy’s death and Willow’s departure, Xander felt as though the world had no color.

He’d begun avoiding the Magic Box with distaste, and had been tempted to call Giles or Willow to let them know that Spike was back in town. Xander wasn’t sure what he expected them to do, or if it really mattered except that it might bring one or the other back to Sunnydale, however briefly.

Even that seemed like a meaningless fight against fate, and Xander felt even more superfluous than before. Spike was looking after Tara and Dawn, and he was left with—what?

Again, Xander questioned his reasons for staying in Sunnydale at all. Wondered why he didn’t go somewhere else to make a clean break of it as Willow and Anya had done. Why he couldn’t seem to make friends that would help ease the loneliness.

And he just couldn’t muster up the energy to do any of that.

Xander was surprised at the bolt of distaste that went through him at the sight of Tim and Dawn walking. They weren’t touching, nor did they seem particularly couple-y. Maybe it was just that Dawn seemed happy with someone who wasn’t him. Or that Tim had come to town with Spike, which put him at an immediate disadvantage.

Or maybe it was just that Xander was feeling terribly envious of anyone who looked like they were having a better time than he was.

Even so, he wasn’t quite drunk enough to do anything about it.

~~~~~

“Well, that movie wasn’t lame,” Tim said tongue-in-cheek.

Dawn elbowed him in the ribs. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“The guy was a ponce,” Tim said, showing that he’d picked up a bit of Spike’s slang. You couldn’t live with a British vampire for five years and not pick up a few things, after all.

Dawn considered that opinion, and then nodded rather reluctantly. “Okay, he was. You thought the girl was cute, though. Admit it.”

“You don’t have to have talent to be cute, you just have to have good genetics,” Tim replied.

Dawn had talked him into the chick-flick of the week at the cinema, but Tim hadn’t minded too much. It was enough just to be out, seeing a movie with a pretty girl. Being able to act like a normal 20-year-old guy was enough of a rarity that he appreciated it every chance he got.

Feeling like a normal guy was even more precious.

Now they were just walking and talking, figuring out that they had a little more in common than just knowing Spike and Tara.

“You wanna get some coffee?” Dawn asked as they passed the Espresso Pump.

Tim shrugged. “Fine by me.” They got their coffee and sat at a table off in the corner. “So what’s up with you tonight?” he asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dawn asked, sounding slightly offended.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Dawn, you haven’t wanted to hang out with any of us before. And except for the party the other night you haven’t wanted to be around me either.”

She looked away uncomfortably. “I didn’t have anything else going on tonight.” In an even lower voice, Dawn said, “And I wanted to thank you for the other night. You were—nice.”

Tim couldn’t even begin to explain how tired he was of being called nice. Every time a girl said he was “nice,” it was the prelude to the “let’s just be friends” talk. Girls didn’t seem to date nice guys. “Yeah, well, Spike would have kicked my ass if I let anything happen to you.”

Dawn glanced up, startled at his rather surly tone. “Well, excuse me for appreciating you walking me home.”

“It’s not that.” Tim shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry. That was rude.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. We’ll just forget it.” Dawn looked at his hands, resting loosely against the paper coffee cup. Normally she would have noticed the tattoos and not thought anything about it, but tonight at least, the world wasn’t revolving around her.

Besides, Dawn had a matching scar on her own wrist.

“What happened?” she asked softly, touching the thick white line with gentle fingers. There were other scars there as well, but one stood out. Dawn suspected that most people saw the tattoos on Tim’s arms and never noticed the scars. She had to wonder if that wasn’t the point.

Tim watched her hand trace the outline. “Cut myself.”

“On what?” she asked. “You must have needed stitches.”

He didn’t want to talk about it with this girl who probably wouldn’t understand anyway. She thought he was a “nice guy,” after all, and nice guys didn’t do what he had done. “It’s not important.”

In reply, Dawn turned her own wrist over to reveal the thin white line. “When I was fifteen I cut myself to prove I was real,” she explained. “It completely freaked my mom and sister out.”

Tim began to think she might understand after all. “Sometimes, when things got really bad, I didn’t know what else to do. So I would just—”

“Cut?”

“Yeah,” he said, relieved, looking at the scar Dawn had asked about specifically. “That time—I just got carried away. Spike found me, and there was blood all over the bathroom.” Tim laughed. “He changed faces on me, told me it was stupid to bleed that much around a vampire. I was a mess.”

“Aren’t we all?” Dawn asked quietly. “Everything just hurts so much right now.”

Tim didn’t have the heart to tell her things would get better when there was no guarantee. “I get that.”

They drank the rest of their coffee in silence.



Chapter 10

“Not only is life a bitch, it has puppies.” Adrienne E. Gusoff

Tim finished ringing up the sale and handed the lady her bag. “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” she replied, smiling warmly.

He watched her go, an answering smile on his own lips. He still couldn’t quite believe what had happened in the last couple months. Not only did he and Spike have their own place, but it looked as though they might be staying for a while. Maybe even longer than they had stayed in New Orleans.

Tim had the sense that most of the reason Spike was staying was Tara. Dawn was important as well, of course, but Spike seemed to have bonded with the shy witch more than with any other woman. At least, in Tim’s time with the vampire.

He couldn’t help but feel that he owed Tara quite a bit. She had taken a chance in giving him the job at the Magic Box. It really was the perfect place for him to work, since people pretty much expected the employees of a magic store to look a bit different. No one even blinked at his tattoos and piercings. Plus, Tim enjoyed it. He had thoughts of maybe opening his own shop someday, just not the magic stuff. Maybe he’d sell comics and books or something like that.

For the first time in years, Tim was beginning to think about the future as a reality.

He’d even begun to think about calling his parents, letting them know he was alive. Spike had gone to see them after he’d rescued Tim. The vampire had waited a few days, wanting to be sure that Tim wasn’t going to do something stupid in his absence, like kill himself. After Spike had returned, all he’d said was that he’d worked something out with Tim’s parents and Tim was going to be staying with him from now on.

Tim could have told Spike that his parents didn’t much care. He’d often gotten the impression that they hadn’t really wanted a child in the first place, and whatever they had wanted, it wasn’t one like him. He hadn’t received very good grades, nor had he excelled at sports. The charisma both his parents had in spades seemed to have skipped a generation as well, and he didn’t have many friends.

The surprise came after getting his first report card while living with Spike. Somehow the vampire had managed to make his guardianship official, since the school required a signature. The mostly B’s he’d gotten would never have satisfied his folks. Spike, on the other hand, had taken him out to dinner to celebrate the solitary A in his literature class.

It had seemed so much easier to do well in school once the pressure was off. It had been easier knowing somebody cared.

Tim hadn’t spoken with his parents since then. He’d sent them notice that he was graduating, but there had been no reply, and they didn’t show up. Yet even though the ceremony was in the middle of the day, Spike had managed to come. The sewer tunnels in New York were extensive.

Maybe now he should just call and let them know he was alive and doing okay. Maybe they wouldn’t care, and then again, maybe they did wonder every so often about their only son.

Maybe.

It didn’t matter, really. Spike was all the family he needed, although it was nice to have Tara around too. He was content to be where he was.

He glanced back as he heard a sound from the storage room. Tara was out getting lunch for the both of them. Tim had protested the first few times she insisted on feeding him, but he realized that Tara liked taking care of him. Which was nice. It was such a difference from the way things had been in the past.

Spike came through the back storage room a moment later. “Hey, Spike.”

“Tim,” Spike smiled. “How’s it goin’ today?”

“Not too bad,” he replied. “We’ve been busy on and off. What are you doing here?”

Spike shrugged. “Needed to get a few things, ‘s all.” Luz went over to nudge his hand in greeting, and the vampire scratched behind her ears.

“You need any help?”

“I know where things are.”

Tim watched, feeling a great deal of curiosity. Spike had never shown much interest in magic, saying that there were too many consequences. He’d bought burba weed in the past for his blood, but that was about it.

This time, when Spike brought his purchases to the counter, it was not only burba weed but several other things that Tim didn’t know much about. “Okay, Spike. What’s up?”

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Nothin’ you need to worry about.”

“Come on,” Tim said. “You aren’t doing anything crazy, are you?”

He looked hurt. “Would I do that?” When Tim made no moves to begin ringing the sale, Spike sighed. “There’s a job. I need to do a bit of magic for it.”

“I thought you didn’t like magic.”

“I don’t,” Spike replied. “I also don’t like the idea of a demon gettin’ its grubby hands on a potentially dangerous crystal.”

Tim grinned. “So you’re going to steal it? Is that what the magic is for?”

Spike hesitated and then decided it was no use trying to conceal his plans. Tim had helped him out in the past, but this was a little different. It was more dangerous, for one thing.

On the other hand, Tim had proven himself handy. There was something to be said for a kid who’d lived on the streets. You didn’t have to worry about shocking them.

“No, the magic is to create a replica so I can sell it as the genuine article to the guy who wants to buy it. But, yeah, I’m goin’ to steal the original.” Spike held up a hand. “Before you ask, no, you can’t help me with the magic, but I’ll let you come along for the breakin’ in part of the evening.”

Tim’s whole face lit up. “Really? You mean it?”

Spike smiled. “Yeah. You pick locks better than I do anyway.”

The bell over the door rang as Tara walked in. “Hey guys,” she greeted both of them, smiling. The smile faded as she saw the spell ingredients on the counter. “Spike—” Her voice held a note of warning.

“I know,” he replied softly. “I need to talk to you about it. Need you to help me.”

Tara hesitated, and then nodded. “Later, okay? I’ve got a bunch of paperwork to go over before I can leave tonight.”

She moved to pass them, and Spike stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “Tara-luv, ‘s not what it looks like. I promise.”

Tara met his eyes and some of the customary warmth returned to her face. “I trust you, Spike.”

~~~~~

She hadn’t been to a meeting like this for a long time. Even long before Buffy’s death, Tara hadn’t gone to many of the Scooby meetings, not since things had gotten difficult between her and Willow. She had always been an auxiliary member of the group, never one of the core players—much like Spike. They had been called upon when their services were needed, and not until then.

“Okay, Spike,” Tara said. “What’s up with this? Normally those kinds of ingredients shouldn’t be mixed.”

Spike sighed. “I got word that a demon here in town has a crystal he’s plannin’ to sell to a buyer in L.A. ‘s the Warzcyx crystal. You heard of it?”

It sounded like too many consonants to Tara as she took another bite of the pizza that Spike had ordered. Tim was munching on his own slice and listening intently. When she shook her head, Spike nodded. “’s a bit of a Holy Grail to the demon world. Takes a lot of other ingredients an’ a lot of power, but you can use that crystal in an invincibility spell. It’s the key ingredient.”

“You’re not planning to steal the crystal and do the spell yourself,” Tara said, her voice incredulous.

“’course not!” Spike sputtered, insulted. “I might use it for good, but what happens if somebody steals if from me? Not to mention the fact that every demon in the world would come after me. Somebody could get hurt. No, ‘m goin’ to steal the crystal, make a new one, sell the fake for the money, and then destroy the original.”

“And you want me to…” Tara left it hanging.

Spike grinned wolfishly. “I want you to help me destroy the original.”

Tara leaned back in her chair, considering it. “You’re going to use the ingredients to create a fake. You know how to do that?”

“’ve been doin’ my homework. Plan is to grab the crystal tomorrow, create the fake, an’ then head to L.A. to make the sale.” Spike cocked his head. “You in?”

It was an adventure. Tara hadn’t been on an adventure in so long she’d forgotten what the rush of adrenalin felt like, forgot what it felt like to be an integral part of a team. “And you said you weren’t in the habit of doing anything heroic.”

“It’s not heroic to be a thief,” Spike said shortly. “That’s Robin Hood crap. An’ ‘m not givin’ the money to the poor either. It’s meant to pay the rent for a while.”

Tim leaned in. “Can I go to L.A. with you?”

Spike shook his head. “No, lad, that I can’t risk. I don’t want you seen while I’m there. If they manage to trace me back here, I don’t want you connected.”

“And besides,” Tara said reasonably. “I’ll need you to watch the shop while I’m gone.”

Spike looked over at her sharply. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“I needed to go to L.A. too, Spike,” Tara replied. “I’ll just hitch a ride with you. I hate making the drive alone.”

There wasn’t much of an argument Spike could make to that, and so he shrugged. “Suit yourself. Probably be an overnight trip.”

“We’ll split the hotel room, then,” Tara said reasonably. “It’ll save us both money.”

Spike chuckled. “As you wish.”

~~~~~

He watched as Tim picked the lock effortlessly, nimble fingers working the picks without trouble. “Good thing you’ve got ethics, lad,” Spike murmured in a low voice.

Tim’s only reply was a nearly silent chuckle as the lock popped open. The owner of the domicile was gone, busy playing kitten poker in the back room at Willy’s. Spike had it on very good authority that he didn’t leave till the wee hours of the morning, and right now it was just before midnight.

Spike crept into the small apartment first. It wasn’t much. The demon who lived there was basically humanoid, and he preferred living in a more cushy environment than most. It was the main reason he was selling the crystal, rather than trying to use it himself. He wanted the cash more than he wanted the power.

Tim followed close on his heels. “Do you know where this thing is, or do we have to toss the place?”

“Word on the street is that he keeps it in a safe.” The vampire’s eyes went around the apartment, and his eyes went yellow as he brought the demon forward. “There.”

It was so cliché as to be annoying. Tim snorted. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Never told you demons were the smartest bunch.” Spike’s face twisted in distaste as he looked around the small apartment. “An’ they aren’t the best decorators either.”

Tim stared at the safe. “So, you know how to get one of these open, right?”

“I do when I have the combination,” Spike replied. “Lucky for us, Jack Daniels works like a truth serum on this bloke’s kind. Slipped it into his regular drink while he wasn’t lookin.’” He quickly spun the dial and opened the safe, pulling out the small box inside. “Bag?” Tim held open the silk bag they’d brought to conceal the crystal. “An’ that’s that.”

“That’s it?” Tim asked, disappointed there wasn’t going to be more action. “That was too easy.”

Spike gave him a wry look. “You’re only sayin’ that because you’ve never been on one of these trips that went sour. Trust me, it’s not pretty. Careful plannin’ saves lives. Remember that.”

“Right,” Tim said, concealing his dismay. He’d been looking forward to something a little more exciting.

Spike, catching his expression, laughed. “Don’t worry, lad. You stay in this town long enough, you’ll get all the excitement you can handle. I can promise you that.”

~~~~~

Dawn was feeling at loose ends. She’d called Tara to see if she could come over, but the witch wasn’t at home. Calling Spike would have been an option, except that she didn’t have his phone number. Dawn didn’t even know if the guys had a phone, and now she was kicking herself for not finding out.

The night she’d spent with Tim and the others had been one of the best she’d had in a long time, even though there hadn’t been any kind of alcohol involved.

In that evening, Dawn had caught a glimpse of the way things used to be—before her mom died, before Buffy died. The feeling had been the same—but different. She supposed it was the future she’d seen, rather than the past.

Tonight, however, Tara wasn’t home and she had no way of getting in touch with Tim or Spike without going out looking for them. That was really the only reason why she was at the Bronze.

“Hey, Dawn.” She recognized him from one of her classes—maybe her lit class. She thought his name was Alan.

“Hey,” she replied, flirting effortlessly. She liked it when guys got that look in their eyes—the look that said they couldn’t resist her charms. “What are you guys doing tonight?”

“Partying,” Alan replied, holding up a plastic cup. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Dawn gave him a sultry smile in reply. It was something to do after all. “I thought you’d never ask.”

~~~~~

He lay amidst the rubble, the rip in the sky opening above him. His fault, he realized. All his fault. If he had only managed to bring Doc down with him. If he had only been faster, smarter, not let the demon get the drop on him so easily.

If only he hadn’t taken Dawn to see Doc for the resurrection spell.

Spike could always think of a thousand things he might have done differently as he lay there, watching Buffy’s body fall seven stories.

It was the light that pulled him out of the nightmare. It was always the same—watching the Slayer fall, and it always seemed to take years rather than moments.

“Spike? You okay, man?” Spike pushed himself up from the bed to see Tim watching him with concern. “You were making a lot of noise in here.”

Spike scrubbed a hand over his face wearily. “You’re not the only one who has nightmares, Tim.”

“Never thought I was,” Tim replied. “Look, you want some coffee or blood or something?”

Spike was about to say no when he caught the look on Tim’s face, realizing that the young man needed to help. “Yeah, coffee would be good. ‘m not hungry just yet.”

He watched as Tim went out to the kitchen, rising with a sigh. Spike paused to pull on a pair of pants, but didn’t bother with a shirt. One of the nice things about living with another guy is that you didn’t have to worry about wandering around half-dressed.

“Thanks,” Spike said as he accepted the mug of coffee. “Thought you had to work.”

“It’s my day off,” Tim replied. “Since Tara’s leaving me to run the shop by myself, she said I could have the day.”

“Right.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

Spike started laughing. Those were the same words that he used on Tim when the boy woke from one of his nightmares. “Did I tell you about the Slayer dying?”

“You said something about it,” Tim said, filling Luz’s bowl with food before pouring his own cup of coffee. “Her friends brought her back.”

“That’s right,” Spike replied. “She fell—the Slayer—seven stories, to save Dawn. ‘s a long story. I’ll have to tell you the whole thing some day. Suffice it to say that I was s’posed to make sure it didn’t come to that. ‘s always the same. I’m always layin’ there, just watchin’ her fall forever.”

Tim frowned, staring into his cup. “That really sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” Spike agreed.

Tim thought for a moment. “Why won’t you let me come to L.A. with you, Spike? And don’t tell me it’s too dangerous, because you’ve let me do risky stuff with you before.”

“Some of it’s the danger,” Spike replied. “If things go sour, I don’t want you there. Matter of fact, Tara might be comin’ with me, but I’ll be doin’ the sale alone.”

“It’s more than that,” Tim objected.

Spike hesitated, choosing his next words carefully, not wanting to insult him. “I don’t want you marked too much by this, Tim. Someday you’re goin’ to want your own life, your own place. Demon huntin’ isn’t for the average bloke.”

“And I’m average?” Tim asked. “Spike, I haven’t been average since—” He broke off abruptly.

Spike knew what Tim was referring to without it being said. “How old were you?”

“Ten.” Tim let out a long breath. “My parents sent me to stay with my aunt. She had a son. He was about four years older, I guess. It happened every summer until I told them I wouldn’t go anymore. When they didn’t believe me, I ran.”

“That was after the diner.”

“Yeah, I guess it was towards the end of June.” Tim looked up at Spike. “I’ll never be normal, Spike. I guess I’m finally figuring out that I might not die young, but I was getting tested for AIDS when I was fifteen. I’d already been on every drug you could find. I’ve done things I don’t even have a name for. That’s not something that goes away.” Tim’s eyes were intense. “If this is the life I want, then I think I have the right to choose it.”

Spike was silent for a moment before nodding. “If this is what you want, then you do have the right. But not this time.” When Tim looked ready to protest, Spike repeated, “Not this time. I mean it.”

Tim made a face. “You’re still going to try to protect me, aren’t you?”

“’s my job,” Spike replied seriously. “If somethin’ ever happened to you—”

The silence stretched between them, laden with love. “I think we should try to get through Doom III today,” Tim said. “Since we don’t have anywhere we have to be.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Spike grinned. “You can watch me kick your ass.”

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